A common-sense look at the capriciousness of life in the post-fact 21st century from the perspective of a retired journalist and educator who is also a devout Catholic
Hmmm… wasn’t expecting to hear anything like that.
“Uh, actually, it’s tea. I’m drinking tea this morning.”
Makes a difference, I guess.
Helen and I were in the middle of our usual Sunday morning sprint, racing to get dressed and out of the house for early Mass. She was overloaded with teacup, clothes, shoes and who knows what else when the mishap hap’d. I was yielding the bathroom to her and was also overloaded – tea mug, phone, bottle of water, Bluetooth speaker, hair brush, beard brush, styling wax, towel and morning meds. Microcosms of two overloaded lives.
Something’s gotta give.
Like Dagwood and his sandwich-makings, most of us tend to overload ourselves – too much to carry, too much work, too many tasks.
Helen and I seemed to be living in a constant maze of tasks. Day-to-day work, family, and home responsibilities have snowballed. Much like most Americans; probably very much like you and your family. Even when our bodies force us to take a break, our minds are still dizzy with an increasing number of items on our to-do lists – at least some of which will never get to-done.
At Mass, just an hour later, that sense of overload was affirmed. The gospel reading was the story of Jesus cleansing the temple of the merchants and moneychangers. Solomon’s Temple was heart and soul of Jewish society, and it had become polluted by far too many extraneous elements that robbed it of its singular focus.
Fr. Jhon Guarnizo’s insightful homily hit a perfect bull’s eye, comparing the ancient Jerusalem temple as the dwelling place of Yahweh with our own hearts as home for the Holy Spirit. Just as Jesus drove out everything that did not belong inside the walls of that holy place, Fr. Jhon cited our need to dislodge “the rush of busy-ness, where we measure our days by productivity instead of prayer.”
Jesus cleansed the temple to put the focus back where it belonged. Today, it’s a metaphor for us to focus on the true substance of our lives.
No, we can’t ignore the laundry or the dishes. But maybe we can make a little time – ten minutes – for reading a daily devotional or Bible verse, and then offering a quick prayer for a loved one, either living or gone. Yes, we must still go to work, but maybe in the car we can stream “Let Me Be Frank” instead of “Howard 100.” And, overall, less doing and more reflecting. Something, anything, that reminds us we are human beings, not human doings.
Still, I don’t expect Helen and I will be changing our well-choreographed Sunday morning sprint. Just please don’t forward this post to her. The last thing she said before heading for the shower Sunday morning was, “And I don’t want to read about it in your blog!”
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I was at the end of the bottled water aisle, stretching my 5’4” frame, trying to reach a gallon of distilled water on the top shelf. I looked down the aisle and wondered who the ma’am was, because I didn’t see anyone who needed help.
“I can get that for you, ma’am!”
I turned to see who in the world was seeing things. As soon as the stock boy saw the quizzical look on my bearded face, he was mortified.
“I’m sorry sir,” he babbled. “I’m really so sorry.”
I had no idea my hair had gotten this long over the many months I had kept my head away from styling scissors.
Hmmm… maybe I do need a haircut.
Time out for an explanation: I only cut my hair twice during the Covid year. After that, I let it go; I’m retired – and it’s only hair. And now, for the past couple of months, my stylist has been in and out of the hospital. But that’s not the point. Here’s the point – Things aren’t always as they seem. And sometimes misperceptions leave lasting impressions.
Youngsters are especially impressionable. I remember my first grade “church school” class – every Wednesday, the Catholic kids, almost all of us in our entire public school, would get out early and be bused to St. John the Baptist for our weekly religious instruction. The parish’s pastor also happened to be the auxiliary bishop,
Any fully-robed bishop would have a tendency to intimidate a 7-year-old boy – and many people much older, too.
One Wednesday, the bishop – the Most Rev. David Cunningham – glided through the classroom door. He was stunningly resplendent in his red and black regalia, complete with skullcap (zucchetto) and flowing cape. As our teacher, a tiny young blonde woman, tentatively approached the bishop, he held out his hand, palm down. The woman dropped to her knees and kissed his ring.
For a seven-year-old Catholic boy, the message was loud and clear – priests, especially old, white-headed priests, were pretty much on the same level as God.
That impression lasted about seven years. But it was another old, white-headed priest who sowed the doubt. He was a visitor saying Sunday Mass in my boyhood church of St. Daniel in Syracuse. The rock opera Jesus Christ Superstar had been released a few weeks earlier. The priest spent a large part of his homily condemning the album, calling it heretical. So what do you think a 14-year-old boy steeped in popular music up to his ears is going to do? Yup, you guessed it.
Fifty-Six years after the rock opera’s release, Jesus Christ Superstar still provokes controversy among many Christians.
The experience was transformational. It wasn’t just the music, it was the message. Most impactful was The 39 Lashes. Each successive lash was increasingly intense, eventually causing me to flinch with each crack of the whip. The Passion was no longer a concept. The two-dimensional, black and white whipping jumped off the page of the gospel as the music exposed the profound reality of Jesus’ suffering.
Jesus Christ Superstar is not heretical – the Vatican endorsed it in 1999. Priests are not God. And I’m not a ma’am. But the stock boy reminded me the necessity for reassessing long-held beliefs, challenging tenets that may be the result of wrong impressions or misguided teachers. Maybe you’ll discover business as usual can become better, smarter and more rewarding business as usual – without having to endure any lashes.
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No, this headline is not a mistake, despite the title of my last post – Escaping the “No Place.” A dear, insightful, faithful soul, Jim Goodell, music director at Our Lady Star of the Sea Catholic Church in Ponte Vedra Beach, made a keen observation. He noted that sometimes it’s necessary to say “no” in order to say “yes.”
Here’s one example that may sound familiar: If I had said “no” to those couple of late-morning chocolate chip cookies I just scarfed down, it would help to eventually say “yes” to the jeans hidden in the back of the closet for the past several months.
In addition to his duties at Our Lady Star of the Sea, Jim Goodell (left) is also founder, producer and singer for the Bella Voce Cabaret.
Yeah, that’s a pretty trivial example. But it clearly illustrates how getting rid of one roadblock can make possible something even better. Saying “no” can be a critical part of our everyday lives in ways that enrich us and those we love.
Maybe this one time, guys, it would be prudent to say “no” to watching the game at a sports bar with your buds so you can say “yes” to a relaxing day trip to reconnect with your wife. And ladies, can you say “no” to that grocery run? If so, you can say “yes” to a glass of wine and some “remember when” time with your husband.
Sometimes spending time with family or a spouse is worth watching a game at a sports bar with friends.
Yes, I know – gender stereotypes. But easily understood stereotypes make points quickly, and gender roles isn’t the main topic, so maybe you can cut me a little slack? Hey, it’s not like I don’t cook and clean too. Right Helen? (Uh… Helen??)
So Jim is right – saying “no” can lead to many more rewarding yeses. And he notes these things aren’t limited to our daily routines. Saying “no” can also apply to more significant aspects of our lives.
No one likes being the “odd man out,” the one nonconformist who becomes the center of attention by being different. The one holdout on an 11-1 jury vote. A lone Dallas Cowboys fan at a Philadelphia Eagles’ home game. Wearing a tux to a toga party. Our tendency as humans is to blend in, not be “that guy” or “that lady.” But that’s exactly what Jesus commissioned us – through the Apostles – to do: “Go into all the world and proclaim the good news to the whole creation” (Mk 16:15).
Jesus commissioned all his followers, through these 12 apostles, to spread the Good News of salvation throughout the world.
Engaging the Holy Spirit, the Apostles and their successors were so successful, Christianity became the societal norm through much of world over the past 2,000 years. As such, it wasn’t so tough to talk about God, Jesus, and religion. Today, the popular American “normal” is shifting to “no God.” Even a former president’s son is widely promoting the Freedom from Religion Foundation, saying he’s “not afraid to burn in hell.” So when you have to fight against the tide of society, it’s easy to say “no.”
This is the “no” we have to overcome to say “yes” to Jesus’ commission. That “yes” may bring ridicule and embarrassment. You may even alienate a few friends and family members. That’s a big risk. Then again, countless spiritual predecessors risked – and lost – their lives for saying “yes” to Jesus. In that context, risking embarrassment and ridicule isn’t so bad. It’s good timing, too. With Lent fast approaching, sacrificing our pride may be easier than giving up cookies – even chocolate chips!
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When I began this “Now What” series, I made a deliberate decision to move away from exclusively religious/Christian/Catholic topics. Each installment, however, usually contained a connection or an analogy to a Biblical principal – the purpose being to illustrate that God isn’t “out there,” but right here among all of us. This piece, however, will be different. This time, I’m jumping into the fire.
During his trip to Asia a few weeks ago, Pope Francis, speaking to an interreligious group of young people in Singapore, made the following statement:
Every religion is a way to arrive at God. There are different languages to arrive at God but God is God for all. But my God is more important than your god, is that true? There is only one God and each of has a language to arrive at God. Sikh, Muslim, Hindu, Christian, they are different paths.
Pope Francis’ message to young people in Singapore – that all religions are different languages to arrive at God – generated a firestorm among conservative Catholics and Christians, clerics and laity alike.
His remarks were widely interpreted – misinterpreted, actually – to claim that every religion is equally true. The backlash was immediate, vitriolic, and often hateful. The extreme reactions wounded my heart deeply, not simply because it deluged Francis with venom. Not only because of the judgmental absolutism. Not just because of the limits it put on God. But because it completely wrote off billions of people as unworthy of God’s love.
Every human being ever born was created in the image of God and wrapped in His infinite and unconditional love. Original sin, however, has separated us from God; only perfection can exist in God’s presence. It is Jesus’ redemptive death that purifies us, as reflected in Scripture: “Jesus said to (Thomas), ‘I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.’” (Jn 14:6) That is an unequivocal statement from Jesus. A universal truth.
Yet…
At this moment in time, there are about 8.2 billion people living on earth. About 2.4 billion are Christian. Assume, for argument’s sake, half of the 5.8 billion non-Christians have at least heard of Jesus, what’s to be said of the nearly three billion people who, through no fault of their own, are ignorant of the savior? Would the God of unimaginably perfect love create even one person who, by circumstances of birth and culture, has no possible pathway to salvation?
Islam, with 1.91 billion followers – the second largest religion to Christianity – considers Mecca, the birthplace of Muhammed, its holiest site.
If reactions to Pope Francis’ statements are any indication, the answer is unreservedly “yes.” Blowback from Catholic clergy and publications – mostly conservative and historically critical of the pontiff – was delivered with an iron fist in a velvet glove. Texas bishop Joseph Strickland, already removed from his position for challenging the pope on social issues, asked the faithful to pray for Francis. The pope should “clearly state that Jesus Christ is the only Way,” Strickland wrote. “To deny this is to deny Him. If we deny Christ, He will deny us, He cannot deny Himself.” Catholic priest and broadcaster Fr. Calvin Robinson was more direct, writing, “The Scriptures teach us the opposite. The gate to heaven is narrow.” And a Christian publication concluded, “The false doctrine which Francis proclaimed has been around for centuries … Pray for Pope Francis to repent of his false teaching and come to know the true Gospel.”
Many faithful, Catholic and Protestant alike, were not nearly as measured on social media.
“As a Catholic I openly say this is a heretic Pope we have, no two ways about it. He has denied Jesus and his teachings.”
“The Roman Catholic Church is an abomination invented by an emperor. A complete bastardization.”
“The pope needs to read the Bible. All of his heresies are debunked in the Holy Word of God.”
“I’ve always known this pope to be corrupt.”
“The default condition of mankind is condemnation. There is no need for us to add to it.”
“The Pope is misleading too many. Jesus will hold him accountable.”
Online social media contain numerous articles and images vilifying Christianity, especially Pope Francis and the Catholic Church.
Many of these accusations prompt me to recall the many New Testament stories of the Pharisees adhering to the strict letter of the Law. The Gospels, however, are rich with stories of Jesus infusing God’s infinite love and mercy into the Law. Examples include the woman caught in the act of adultery, the apostles “harvesting” grain to eat on the sabbath, and the many instances of healing. In each of these examples, Jesus violated Jewish law. But He used these examples to show that man does not exist to benefit the law, but the law exists for the benefit of man.
Still, I am not so arrogant to believe I know and understand the mind of God. When I face an especially difficult issue, I usually defer to my favorite parable – the Parable of the Workers in the Vineyard (Mt 20:1-16). In it, the landowner pays the same wage to those who worked just one hour as those who worked 12 hours.
The most common interpretation of this parable is that a deathbed conversion by a person with a lifetime of sins will spend eternity in heaven with Jesus – the same reward awaiting a person who’s been faithful for an entire lifetime. The key is accepting Jesus. I believe this with my entire being.
Yet…
Those who know me are not surprised I see an additional interpretation here.
Just like the workers who showed up at dawn, Jesus gave me my requirements for my eternal reward – believe in Him, and work for Him. The deal he makes with others – their requirements for eternal life with him in heaven – is simply not my concern. “Take what is yours and go,” says landowner/Jesus. “What if I wish to give this last one the same as you? Am I not free to do as I wish with my own money?”
The Catechism of the Catholic Church states emphatically and unequivocally that Jesus Christ is the mediator of the world, the only way of salvation (846). Yet, it recognizes its most important dogma can not and should not be used to limit the power and the reach of Almighty God.
This affirmation is not aimed at those who, through no fault of their own, do not know Christ and his Church: Those who, through no fault of their own, do not know the Gospel of Christ or his Church, but who nevertheless seek God with a sincere heart, and, moved by grace, try in their actions to do his will as they know it through the dictates of their conscience – those too may achieve eternal salvation (847).
None of us has any idea how and when Jesus will enter into this equation. That’s not for us to know. It is not for us to put limits on God’s grace by refusing to recognize He can reach these people in His own way and in His own time. He will bestow His grace to anyone He wishes. That’s all I need to know. That, and to be thankful for blessing me with His grace during my own time on earth.
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I’m assuming there’s a good chance, after reading the title, that you’re ready to put up your dukes. That’s okay; I get it. But before this gets personal, let me re-establish my bona fides: I am a devout and lifelong Catholic who went to public school K-8 before moving to a private, Catholic high school where we prayed at the beginning of every school day and before each and every class. We even had special Masses. Things you would expect in a Catholic school.
And, really, that’s my point. We all shared a common religion – except for my friend Howie Rothstein, but he chose to be there so he was cool with it. Students who go to public schools, however, have no choice. There’s no common religion. So why do school prayer advocates want to require prayer in public schools?
Advocates say school prayer reminds students of a higher power and can help remedy societal ills such as bullying, violence, teenage pregnancy and more.
Other advocates say school prayer can address maladies such as bullying, increased violence, mass shootings, teenage pregnancy, illegal drug use and more.
Okay. So which religion has such blanket transformative power? Remember, in public schools, all religions by law would enjoy equal favor. Most religious people in the U.S. belong to one of the many various branches of Christianity, so obviously Christian prayer would be included. What about a Jewish prayer? That should be okay – our Christian heritage is rooted in Judaism. Would parents welcome Islamic prayer in this political climate? Moreover, required school prayer would also legitimize atheism, Wiccan, and even Satanism, giving them a seat at the school-prayer altar. Do we really want our kids to pray “Dear God” on Monday and “Dear Satan” by Friday?
It’s doubtful this is what school prayer advocates have in mind, yet this is what is possible if prayer is ever required in public schools
If our Christian majority claims requiring prayer in public schools is necessary to remedy the ills of society, then we must not be fulfilling our responsibilities outside the classroom. Does that sound harsh? Well, it is harsh. But it’s also harsh to hear a 14-year-old boy defy me in the classroom by saying, “I’m not going to let some minimum-wage substitute nobody tell me what to do.” It’s even harsher when a police officer has to ask my wife, a full-time school teacher who’s been physically pushed around in class, “Do you want to press charges, Mrs. Casella?” Is school prayer the best way to address these bad behaviors?
It’s not the 1950s any more. Requiring prayer in public schools will not bring Wally and the Beaver back to the classroom. Heck, even Beavis and Butthead are long gone.
It’s ironic that a people blessed with free will by our Creator wants to force its will on other people to whom God has also granted free will. Forced prayer is the equivalent of beating someone until morale improves. It’s not just counter-productive; it’s contrary to God’s plan for us. So where does that leave us?
This truism probably dates back to the first schoolhouse exam. We are blessed to be in a nation in which no one can prevent us from praying,
When parents send their kids to school, teachers act in loco parentis; in the absence of parents, teachers must act in the best interests of the kids. But parents still need to act like parents when they are there. And we all need to act as Christians all the time.
Jesus, commenting on the Pharisees, told his followers to “do what they say, not what they do.” As adults, we can distinguish that difference. Our kids can’t. Children do what we do; what we say matters less. And, because the largest single religious group in America is “None,” too many kids are not being exposed to the most important influence in our lives – actually, in the universe. That makes our example so much more important than ever. We must spread God’s love, peace and joy through our actions – not by force – to everyone we encounter, especially our children.
We want people to think “I want what they have.” That’s meaningful evangelization. That’s our commission straight from Jesus.
And that will have a far greater affect than any required school prayer ever could.
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Many years ago, in a land far, far away, there were two friends. They worked at the same job with a handful of other friends. They bought into the mission statement and approached their job with a single focus. Because the work was so intense, they became very close – brothers in spirit.
At a critical point, both of them made two of the worst choices since the beginning of time. That’s when their paths diverged. One became the founder of the Church and now identifies those who get to spend eternity in the rapturous light of heaven. The other became known as the most evil, despicable traitor in the history of man.
Peter (left) and Judas (right) lived and worked together for three years as they accompanied Jesus on his ministry – as illustrated in the miniseries Jesus of Nazareth.
Yes, Peter and Judas. Two comrades who, within a few hours of each other, turned their backs on Jesus. Their subsequent actions resulted in the greatest divergence of destinies since God said, “Let there be light.” One was broken by his betrayal. The other destroyed. Their two very different fates is a great irony of human history.
Jesus knew both of his friends would fail him. He said as much during the Last Supper. But even though Judas had thought out his betrayal, none of the Bible accounts focus on his motivation – citing only financial motives and that “Satan entered into him.” In the absence of certainty, possibilities arise. Maybe Judas hoped the Jewish leaders would be more accommodating after His trial. It’s possible he disagreed with the direction the ministry had turned. Judas may have feared their success could spark a Jewish revolt that would lead to a bloody Roman repression.
Peter’s regret over denying Jesus was crushing; asking Jesus for forgiveness restored him.
Peter is much easier to understand. His impulsiveness is well documented throughout Scripture – jumping out of boats, telling Jesus to avoid Jerusalem, cutting off a slave’s ear – so denying Jesus in a knee-jerk reaction of self-preservation was not out of character for him.
Both men traveled with Jesus for three years, worked with Him, lived with Him, and listened to Him preach and teach. They experienced His unconditional love. They saw acceptance and understanding. They witnessed Jesus reveal the value and the dignity of every human being no matter how dirty and diseased in body and spirit they were.
Jesus knew at the Last Supper that both Peter and Judas would, in their own ways, betray Him.
As the magnitude of their denials sunk in, both became despondent and wracked with guilt. But Peter understood the significance of Jesus’ ministry. Judas missed it. Thus, the two brother-apostles took opposite paths to remedy their betrayals.
Whether pride, arrogance, shame, guilt, or some other reason, Judas turned his back on Jesus and his brother apostles. All he had to do was say “I’m sorry” and ask for forgiveness. Instead, he became the definitive example of deceit, treachery and betrayal. Peter’s path of repentance, by contrast, led him to become the ultimate example of Jesus’ unconditional love and infinite forgiveness – a fate that could have belonged to Judas.
Two brothers in Jesus. Near identical transgressions. Separated for eternity by the words, “I’m sorry.” Granted, they are words that can be excruciatingly hard to say. But words with life and death consequences. Words worth contemplating during our Lenten journey.
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I saw the listing for a two-day substitute teaching opportunity and couldn’t help but smile. I just had to take the job. It wasn’t the subject – English – that grabbed me, although I do tend to prefer subbing for English and music teachers. It wasn’t the timing either – a Thursday-Friday assignment to close the week. Nor was it the expected ease of the assignment – likely handing our worksheets or proctoring tests. In truth, what attracted me to the job was irony, specifically the teacher’s last name – Welch.
My original last name.
I asked the office to edit the “trusted adult” sign while I was subbing here, still unsure of the “adult” status. They said only chronological age counts, not maturity.
As you may know, I am an adoptee with an atypical origin story. I only learned it a few years ago and could only reveal it last year. My biological mother’s name at the time of my birth was Welch. She changed her name to Barone when she married my biological father; my name became Casella shortly after I was born when Connie and Tony Casella adopted me. (Good thing. I really don’t think I look like a Welch!)
The irony of the sub job wasn’t just the Welch name, however. It also the timing.
Part of my Lenten routine has been a daily audio reflection that asks participants to seek God’s plan for each of us. Discernment has never been one of my strengths. Trying to determine where God wants me to go and what He wants me to be inevitably raises a couple of basic life questions – Who am I? and How did I get here? I’m sure these are questions you’ve asked yourself, too. For me, the questions are reminders that I come from two families – one responsible for nature, the other for nurture.
I share biological traits and influences with my birth parents and siblings. My attitudes, ideas and values were instilled by the parents and extended family who raised me.
The Barone side – the “nature” – gave me my appearance, my height (or lack of it), my walk, and the sound of my voice. Nature also seems responsible for many of my preferences and ways of doing things: tea (bag in!) instead of coffee, affinity for hair (it’s actually vanity – thanks Dad!), guitar, and other inclinations. And, as with all of us, I also share congenital issues with my biological parents and siblings.
The nurture side, behavioral influences, came from Connie and Tony Casella, the parents who raised me. These include my moral code, including my religion and my attitude toward God. Their example helped me define society and my place in it – my attitudes towards education, government, sports, finances, and other routine aspects of life. They also modeled interpersonal approaches – how one treats others and navigates relationships on every level of society.
Lent is a time for us to discern that path God wants us to take to become the person He wants us to be.
It is from these deep-seated influences – biological and cultural – that I must reassess in order to fully discern and accept God’s will for me. That’s what God is asking all of us to do – to risk the person we have become, to become the dynamic person God wants us to be. That’s unnerving. But that’s faith – all of us trying to replace “me” with “He.”
In the meantime, I’m exceptionally grateful for the imprints from both families. I’m also grateful for God’s patience with me. I hope that, one of these days, I’ll finally discern His plan for me. I don’t know if I’ll get there. I often doubt that I will. But as long as He doesn’t give up on me, I’ll keep trying. I hope you do, too.
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Now What? 