Back from Retreat

A retreat is a good thing: It is an attempt to leave the world behind for a period of time, to refresh one's soul, to take more time for prayer and reflection. I just returned from one which was quite packed with speakers and programs designed to enrich my spiritual life, and that of the other participants.

Returning from a retreat is frequently the biggest problem: It can be a bit of a culture shock, moving suddenly from a setting of peace and prayerfulness back to the "real world." I am in my first full day back in that real world. I have returned with a new resolve to rebuild my prayer life, to implement my spirituality in my daily life, and to try to help those around me to do the same.

I am a Discalced Carmelite Secular. I try to pattern my prayer life after that practiced by Carmelite nuns and friars, following in the footsteps of St. John of the Cross and St. Teresa of Avila. I try to pray portions of the Liturgy of the Hours--the prayer of the Church--on a daily basis, including Morning Prayer and Evening Prayer at a minimum. I try to attend the celebration of the mass as frequently as I can, daily if possible. And I attempt to set aside time during my day to just sit quietly, in the presence of the Lord, listening for that "still, small voice." I have fallen down on all three of these elements of my prayer life in recent months, in spite of my promise to uphold them.

All too real is the temptation to say, "I'm too busy doing the work of the Lord to pray like that." But the old saying holds true: "You need to pray at least a half-hour per day; and if you're too busy to do that, then you need to pray at least an hour per day." Our work must be a result of our prayer, or it will be empty, regardless of our good intent.

Perhaps that is the easiest explanation of how to integrate our spirituality into our everday lives: Pray first...really pray...and then work. Prayer will change our work and its fruits.

The third element of my "new resolve," to help others to enrich their spiritual lives, is also a natural result of the first two. If I continue to seek God and His will, and strive to carry it out, others around me cannot help but saying, "I want that." I know, because I have said that very thing about many whom I have encountered in my life.

Perhaps "bridging the gap" isn't nearly as complicated as we try to make it.

Intercommunion

I've mentioned my love for the eucharist several times. I am quite protective of the Blessed Sacrament itself, and of the doctrine.

Growing up Protestant, I became aware, very early on, that the Catholic Church does not practice intercommunion. That is, in most normal circumstances, one must be Catholic in order to receive the Holy Eucharist. I didn't understand it as a Protestant youth--after all, anyone who believes in Jesus Christ could receive communion in our church--but I respected it; and later in life, as I prepared to enter into full communion, I longed more and more to receive the Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of the Lord. I also came to a fuller understanding of why the Catholic Church requests--politely--that if you are not Catholic, you do not receive the eucharist.

First, let me offer my understanding of what the Holy Eucharist is: In the sixth chapter of John's gospel, Jesus taught, "Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him on the last day." He said the same thing three times, and watched many of his followers walk away. When alone with his apostles, he made no allusion to the teaching being a parable, or any kind of symbolic language. Later, at the Last Supper, in Mark's gospel, he said very plainly, "This is my body, which will be given for you; do this in memory of me" (emphasis mine). The Lord's supper is mentioned elsewhere in the New Testament, as practiced by the Christian communities. But nowhere is it referred to as a "symbol" or "representation" of the Body and Blood of the Lord: Indeed, it is always referred to as a reality, using forms of the verb, "to be."

The immediate post-apostolic fathers of the Church, who learned directly from those who followed Christ while He was on earth, were equally clear about the Holy Eucharist being the Body and Blood of the Lord, and a sign of our unity in the faith.

It is also quite clear in scripture that certain men of the Christian communities were appointed as "presbyters"--i.e., priests--to preside over the eucharistic meal, after receiving the laying on of hands by the apostles or their successors. Therefore, as a Catholic, I believe in the necessity of this priesthood in order for the eucharist to be celebrated.

So, the eucharist is the Body and Blood of the Lord Jesus Christ. It is a sign of unity of faith. And it is celebrated by an apostle, one of their successors, or a man duly appointed by either. All three of these are essential elements of the eucharist; one cannot reject one and still believe in the eucharist. These beliefs are also held by the Orthodox Churches, which have maintained unbroken apostolic succession, even though a schism over authority remains between them and the Catholic Church.

Members of other faith groups may say, "We believe in all three of those elements, but we just define them differently." But this could be used as an argument to justify any number of pretenses of unity: "I believe in the importance of the family too; I just define 'family' differently"; "I want peace. I just define 'peace' differently"; "I believe in the sanctity of life. I just define 'life' differently." When people use the same words but ascribe distinctly different meanings to them, there is no communication; and there certainly is no unity.

If we can agree on what the Catholic Church means by these three elemental aspects of the eucharist, it should be fairly clear why the Church does not believe in practicing intercommunion, as a general rule. If one does not believe that it is really the Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of the Lord, then one borders on sacrelige--insofar as the Catholic Church is concerned--in receiving it. If one does not believe what the Catholic Church teaches as the truth, then one is not in unity of faith with the Catholic Church. And if one does not believe that apostolic succession and a ministerial priesthood are necessary for the celebration of the eucharist, then it is somewhat mysterious why a person would even bother to come to a Catholic Church to receive the eucharist.

All of this comes to the forefront of my mind because of a rather disturbing conversation with a Baptist minister who quite openly told me that he receives the eucharist at mass when he "feels the need," when he can do so anonymously, without causing any disturbance, while fully aware of the Catholic Church's teaching on the non-practice of intercommunion. What he failed to take into consideration was the fact that telling me and others causes a "disturbance." I know that he has no intent of "thumbing his nose" at what the Catholic Church says; but in essence, this is what he has done. His "conscience is clear" because "nobody knows." That is no longer the case.

Let's look at this from a simple common sense standpoint. When you are a guest, and your host makes a simple request of you--a request of which you are completely capable of fulfilling--would your conscience remain clear if you deceptively ignored his request?

Lived Through Six Popes, Catholic Through Four

I confess I don't remember Pius XII at all: I was about five years old when he died, and was Protestant at the time. I remember John XXIII, and when he died. Paul VI was pope when I became Catholic in 1978. John Paul I, of course, was pope for only 33 days before his death.

John Paul II was special to me. I was a new Catholic having been received into full communion only about six months before his election. In his 26 years as the Holy Father, he was the "approachable" pope, even to those of us who never saw him in person. He took the title, "Vicar of Christ," and lived it.

My fondest memory of Pope John Paul II was seeing him on television at a youth rally in Los Angeles in the 1980's: It was the event where Tony Melendez first played and sang for him. You will recall that Tony has no arms, and plays the guitar (spectacularly) with his feet. I will never forget John Paul II exclaiming, "Tony! You are a very coo-RAH-zhus young man!" Pope John Paul II was bigger than any rock star to those kids, and he loved them all.

He had a special love for all young people: In his later years, when his health was failing, he would appear before a crowd of young people, and the reporters would remark that he looked like "the John Paul of fifteen years ago!"

Young people always were "good medicine" for John Paul II. Even on his deathbed, I'm sure that he smiled when he heard them singing out in St. Peter's Square, and said, "I have waited for you, and now you have come to me...and for this, I thank you."

When John Paul II died, we all cried. A gentle, Christ-like man had left us. It is unlikely that there will be another like him. But then, I'm sure that there doesn't need to be. God always provides for His Church, and gives us the leader needed for the time.

That man is Pope Benedict XVI, the former Cardinal Josef Ratzinger.

Pope Benedict XVI has gained a reputation in over two decades as prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith as an "enforcer" of doctrine. However, it seems that all who have met him--and I have talked to several such people in recent days--call him a gracious, humble man, who knows from whence his gifts come.

I know that some were hoping that a new pope would change doctrines and practices: Women priests, celibacy, gay marriages, etc. I rejoice that we have a pope who will, without question, maintain the faith handed down to us from the apostles.

May God bless and protect His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI, and give him the wisdom and courage he needs to guide us.