I’ve been out of the office the past two days on retreat with the DREs of the diocese. It was a wonderful, Spirit-filled retreat, and I’m grateful for the time “away” – until I get back to my office and see the pile of mail and paperwork on my desk!

It would be easy to grump about the work to be done – signing bills, responding to voice mail, writing memos – but this Lent I’ve been trying to re-adjust the way that I look at the interruptions and intrusions. Instead of rolling my eyes and sighing, I’ve been trying to see them as God might see them: not as detours from my work, but as the real work!

Both St. Mark and St. Luke record the story of Jairus, a synagogue official, asking Jesus to heal his dying daughter. On his way to Jairus’ house, a woman afflicted with hemorrhages touches Jesus’ clothes and is miraculously healed. Jesus could have paid her no mind and hurried on his way – he had work to do! – but instead he stops, addresses the woman, and assures her that “your faith has saved you; go in peace.”

It’s easy to let surprises in our work tear us down and aggravate us. And I’m not suggesting that we should all be workaholics. (Even Jesus had to get away from the crowds at times!) But sometimes those interruptions are actually moments calling for grace, when God asks us put aside what we think is important in order to do his work.

The second episode of NCCL’s new podcast is live! I had a great conversation with Jared Dees of thereligionteacher.blogspot.com and William O’Leary of catechesisinthethirdmillennium.wordpress.com about catechesis and blogs. You can listen to the whole episode right here:

My best friend and his wife recently found out that they will be welcoming their first child into the world this spring. At his invitation I sent him the following thoughts about fatherhood, having endured loved it through nine years and four kids. The remarks have been edited to remove personal information.

#1 – Congratulations! You are no longer in control of your own destiny.

Here’s the thing: you are now 100% responsible for another human being in this world. You have established a relationship that, short of death, cannot be severed or broken. (And I’m not even sure death breaks it.) You have to make sure that this little person is fed, cleaned, clothed, educated and loved. Every decision you make from here on out will have to include this as part of the equation — everything from “Should I take this new job” to “What type of milk do I buy for the family?”

So forget about the myth of the autonomous individual making his way in the world. It’s not true to begin with, and now that you have a child it’s even less true.

(By the way: Your wife is 100% responsible, too. It takes 200% to raise a child.)

#2 – You will be amazed at what you will endure for your child.

Let’s just get this one out of the way: within the first year of your child’s life you will be graced with the following bodily fluids flowing from your child onto your person: urine, poop, vomit, regurgitated milk, mucus, and a couple I still haven’t identified. If you have a boy, you’ll get it within six months. (Our oldest was so consistent about trying to pee on us that we had our own little maneuver when changing him: we’d take his diaper off, then immediately use it to cover him back up because you could be sure that as soon as fresh air hit him there would be a stream shooting up.)

The thing is, you won’t care one bit. I know I was worried about how I would handle these things, but the first time our oldest looked into my eyes, smiled, and vomited all over my shirt, I didn’t give it a second thought because I was so much more concerned about him and how he felt. The “oh-my-God-my-child-just-unhinged-his-jaw-and-spewed-on-my-leather-upholstery” reaction gets pushed out of your mind because you’re so focused on making sure that your child’s OK.

#3 – The most important thing you can do for your child is put your wife first.

This may seem counter intuitive, but I believe that your relationship with your wife is more important than your relationship with your child. It only takes a few minutes on Google to find statistics on how divorce and broken families screw over kids in major ways. You and I are both fortunate enough to come from families that, despite lots of trials and tribulations, have remained intact. I don’t know about you, but seeing my friends who have parents who are divorced, I’m extraordinarily grateful for that. Not that they aren’t decent, well-adjusted people, but I also know that they’ve had to endure a lot more crap in their lives than I’ve had to, even given my family issues. Having an intact family has been a great blessing in my life.

One of the promises I made to myself when my first child was born was that I would do everything in my power to ensure that he had that same advantage. Which, ironically, means that I invest more in my relationship with my wife than with the kids. Which, again, isn’t to say that I come home, throw some food into their room and say goodnight. But I want my kids to know that I love their mother and that they are a result of that love — and are loved as a result.

#4 – Decide now what your values are.

This is important for two reasons: a) so that you can pass on your values to your children, and b) so you know where you priorities are. The first is pretty straight forward: start thinking now about the lessons you want to impart to your child so that you won’t be reacting later on to lessons he’s learning somewhere else. (Children are sponges that soak up everything in their environment, whether you mean them to or not. This was hit home to me the first time my oldest started talking about Star Wars, even though I had never tried to intentionally pass it on to him.) And start thinking about what values you will and won’t allow into your house (via tv, the internet, etc.).

The second is a little more subtle. One of the things I’ve had to come to grips with is the things that I have to give up in order to be a halfway decent father. There are so many conferences, classes, and other opportunities out there that I would love to participate in that, if given the chance, I could be gone every other weekend. But I know (and my wife reminds me) that doing so would be a very bad thing for the family. So we compromise and work out what things I do and what I don’t.

The point here isn’t that I’m “paying the price” for putting my family first, but that my wife and I make those decisions together. If she thought we could maintain a happy home life together even if I was gone more often, then I’d be packing a lot more suitcases. But that’s not a decision I can make on my own. By talking through our values and how we’re going to put them into practice, she gives me a level of accountability that keeps me from doing anything to the family that would compromise my stated values. That’s a good thing.

A beach sand-building competition. One boy and girl finished a magnificent castle, and then wandered round looking at the other children’s efforts. When they came back they found a boy had occupied their castle and was making alterations and adding what he thought were improvements.

‘What are you doing—that’s our castle!’

‘No, it’s mine now. You left it.’

‘But it’s our castle!’

‘What do you mean, yours? You didn’t pay for the sand, did you?’

‘But it’s our castle—we MADE it and we can do what we like with it, or destroy it or anything, because we made it.’

And, of course, everybody said they were right, the intruder was turned out, and they won the prize.

God made me, out of nothing, and so I belong to Him. I am His to do what He likes with.

- Rev. F.H. Drinkwater, Catechism Stories Part I: the Creed (1939)

Every time I read an interview with Lori Gottlieb, author of Marry Him: The Case for Settling for Mr. Good Enough, I like her a little more:

Men and women were asked, if they [had] any deal-breakers for going on a second date, what would those be? And men named three. If she’s cute enough… warm and kind… and interesting enough to talk to, she gets a second date. Men are not going, “Am I going to marry her?” Men are like, “Do I want to spend another two hours with her?”

…

Women named 300 things that would be deal-breakers for a second date. We’re talking a second date, another two hours with the person. And they were things like, “You know, we were having a really good time, but then he did this Austin Powers impression, and it just so turned me off. I can’t get that out of my head.” Well, if she goes on a second date with him, and he starts doing Austin Powers impressions, then dump Mr. Austin Powers guy. Don’t go on that third date. Absolutely not. Who wants that? That’s annoying. But the thing is, there’s no correlation between the guy who’s the nervous first dater… and the guy who’s going to be the great life partner that you’re going to fall in love with.

I am reluctant to enter into discussion of liturgical theology and practice. It is not the field in which I work and I have little education on the subject. That having been said, my diocese, like many others, is preparing for the Vatican’s recognitio of the translation of the Third Edition of the Roman Missal. While we may not know when the final approval will come (most people seem to suspect it will be sometime this spring, with mandatory implementation at Advent 2011) we will need to prepare for its use in our parishes. This means a concerted catechetical program for all: priests, deacons, musicians, liturgists, catechists, people in the pews  — and maybe even people out of the pews!

A couple weeks ago a small group of our diocesan directors met to begin envisioning what that catechetical process will look like. During the course of the conversation, one thing became clear: in order to prepare people to pray the new translation in a meaningful, intelligible way, we need to be able to articulate why the Church is changing the words of the Eucharistic liturgy in a way they can understand and accept.

In other words, we need to find the marketable message for the changes.

I won’t claim that we came up with all the answers, but I think one of the priests at the table got us started the right path. He noted that, during the liturgical reforms following the Second Vatican Council, the message was that the laity will no longer be passive observers but will be called to “full, active participation” in the liturgy. For forty years this has been the mantra of liturgical catechesis, for better or worse. It was, in a sense, the “marketable message” on liturgy following the council.

He contrasted this with the new missal and translation which have shifted attention from the action of the congregation back to the object of worship: Jesus Christ. Without diminishing the importance of the council’s reforms or denigrating the progress made in liturgical theology, the heightened language of the new translation pulls us out of the mundane and reminds us that while we participate in the liturgy, the liturgy is not about us.

With that in mind, a useful way to enter a wider conversation about the new missal — and a way to point towards a “marketable message” — may be to pose the following three questions:

1. Who calls us to participate in the liturgy?
2. Why do we participate in the liturgy?
3. How then do we participate in the liturgy?

This series of questions begins with the invitation to worship, points to the object of our worship, and then asks if the manner of our worships honors that end. I’m not completely satisfied with the wording (I’m open to suggestions!) and obviously not everyone will agree on the answers to these questions — especially the third! But they at least focus the conversation in a constructive manner that can lead to further exploration about our theology of liturgy, why we have a shared liturgical practice in the Church, and why the changes make sense within that context.

And without resorting to, “Because the Vatican says so!”

Dear Governor Quinn:

I am writing today on behalf of our diocese’s 11,323 school children to urge that you propose funding for the Illinois Textbook Loan Program in your 2011 budget.

The Textbook Loan Program has provided secular textbooks, learning materials and instructional computer software to public and nonpublic school students since 1975. Although most of the program’s funding goes to public schools, Catholic schools have long depended on this program and have used the benefit to continually update math, science, and reading textbooks, as well as to purchase new instructional software for technology labs. Students cannot learn or succeed without effective and up-to-date learning materials. The Textbook Loan Program has helped ensure those materials are present in all schools.

According to the Illinois State Board of Education’s (ISBE) published analysis, the Textbook Loan program impacts 2.1 million students and 164,000 educators. In Fiscal Year 2009, the program provided 849,214 instructional items to pupils in grades 7 through 12. There are not many grant programs in ISBE’s budget that have had as far-reaching an impact for as long a time. ISBE’s strategic goals cite service to “all students” and “all schools.” Unfortunately, last year’s budget cut the Textbook Loan completely and failed to reflect similar concern.

I understand that the state’s fiscal condition is dire. I understand funding cuts must be endured in these difficult times. However, when a long-standing program with a proven track record faces elimination, Illinois’ entire education system suffers.

Governor Quinn, I urge you to recommend that ISBE’s budget restore funding at the 2007 level of $29.1 million. Such a recommendation recognizes the current fiscal condition of the state but also makes some attempt to meet the state’s obligation to provide sound, up-to-date instructional materials to all children.

Catholic schools provide great savings to the state of Illinois: $1.5 billion annually. We do not deserve to lose the limited state support given back.

Thank you for your attention and support.

Sincerely,

Jonathan F. Sullivan
Director of Catechetical Ministries
Diocese of Springfield in Illinois

I recently finished reading psychologist Dan Gilbert’s book Stumbling on Happiness, an examination of how the human brain attempts to make decisions about what will make us happy — decisions that, if studies are to be believed, we don’t make very well.

Gilbert’s book is summarized in this 2008 TED talk (the whole talk is about 24 minutes long and is well worth watching on its own merits):

Gilbert’s explanation vis a vis how we make decisions about happiness over time got me thinking about the aims of evangelization. Given that comparisons over time are extraordinarily difficult to make and that, all things being equal, it takes a tremendous payoff to delay gratification, is it possible that the extension of the human lifespan makes arguments for religious belief less convincing?

The stereotypical Christian argument is: “Have faith in Christ and his saving work, turn away from sin, and you will be rewarded with heaven.” Putting aside whether this is an accurate representation of the Gospel, in Gilbert’s terms we are asking people to delay today’s gratification (at least as it pertains to immoral acts) in favor of a reward in the afterlife.

This may have been a compelling argument when the average lifespan of a citizen of colonial Virginia was around 25 years. Death was imminent. The frame of reference for questions of happiness were much more immediate. As a result, it would have been easier to put off gratifying (but possibly immoral) behavior in favor of a “heavenly reward” because that  reward didn’t seem too far off.

But today the average American can expect to live well into his 70s. Most people simply don’t think in that kind of time frame. I can hardly put together a budget for the next month, let alone think about the state of my eternal soul in 40 years. Couple that with a consumer culture that prizes personal autonomy and immediate gratification and the Gospel seems much less compelling. Again, in Gilberts terms, the payoff for waiting simply doesn’t compute for the average person.

So how do we evangelize in such a situation? We know that, in the long run, final happiness is to be found only in God. But when people today enjoy more daily comfort, longer and safer lives, and greater individual autonomy that in any other period of history, how do we convey that fact in a compelling and credible manner?

Two girls came to the surgery for another bottle of medicine for their mothers.

‘It did your mother good, then?’ said the doctor to the first. ‘Here’s another bottle, then. Make sure she has it after meals.’

The other girl said her mother wasn’t any better.

‘Too bad,’ said the doctor. ‘I wonder if I ought to change the medicine.’

‘She said it didn’t make her cough any better, though she rubbed it on her chest night and morning.’

‘Rubbed it on! No wonder she isn’t better. Can’t she read the label—” One tablespoonful in water to be taken three times a day”? No medicine is going to cure people if they don’t use it.’

The same is true of prayer and the sacraments. The Church offers to us all the means of holiness, but if we don’t use them, or if we misuse them, they will not help us.

Chesterton said : ‘Christianity has not failed, it has never been tried.’ The people who really have tried it are the saints: they are the people who make full use of the helps Our Lord has given us.

- Rev. F.H. Drinkwater, Catechism Stories Part I: the Creed (1939)

As the father of four children (ages 8 1/2 years to 4 days), Beth Lewis Samuelson’s reflections on children in church resonates with me:

What does a child-tolerant church look like? First, the church —and all of us, really—must remember that where there are women, there are children. Today, with the widespread use of birth control and the prevalence of abortion services, the bittersweet burden of motherhood is no longer seen in the wider culture as a normal phase of life, but rather as a lifestyle option. As a result, many people don’t wish to be inconvenienced by children, who are seen as someone else’s “choice,” not the collective responsibility of (in this case) the church community. At an infant dedication ceremony, the entire congregation enters into a covenant with the parents to help raise the child to love and serve the Lord. That is what I remember hearing as a child, as I sat with my parents through many a long church service.

In a child-tolerant church, families with small, squirmy children are truly welcomed, not separated and exiled. An infant’s vocalizing, a dropped toy, the movement of a restless child in a pew—all are viewed with tolerance, if not sympathy. Parents whose small children start to scream get up and take them to the cry room or the church foyer. The few moments of noise as a child is carried out are endured by the congregation and politely ignored. No one enjoys the disruption, of course, but all are mindful of having been in the same position or, at least, that all are called to “suffer little children to come unto me.”

I’m aware that, when I was young, my parents went to separate Sunday liturgies and kept my sister and I at home. While I am sympathetic to those who wish to spare others from distractions during Mass, my wife and I decided early on that we would take our children and celebrate the Eucharist as a family. Even on Sundays when my wife sang with the choir we would attend an earlier service as a family.

The bottom line for me is: children who are baptized members of the Church have every right to participate in her liturgical celebrations, just as any adult. I can’t imagine that anyone would ask an elderly person with severe Parkinson’s disease to leave because they constituted a distraction; nor would we expect a couple caring for an older mentally handicapped child to do so. So why we expect children to be tucked safely in a cry room or nursery is beyond me.

We must welcome all members of the Body of Christ. Christ suffered and died for all — even the toddler throwing Cheerios at the back of your head during the Gloria.