My Silence

I apologize for not writing lately. I've been a little introspective lately, and so have not felt the desire to write, especially since I haven't felt like I have anything to say. The two major things going on in my life are: 1) the beginning of the new semester, and 2) the discernment that goes along with the possible renewal of temporary vows--both have me preoccupied.

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In other news, Bishop Remi De Roo was at St. Francis Xavier Church, across the street today giving a talk on Vatican II (the anniversary of the calling of the Council is the 25th). Bishop De Roo was the youngest bishop present at the Council. It was very exciting, getting to listen to one of the Council fathers speak about his experience, and what he thought about the impact of Vatican II, today. He spoke very passionately, in response to one person's mention of people who look down upon Vatican II as a mistake. He reminded everyone of how such an idea contradicts scripture and basic tenets of the faith. Our Lord promised, after all, that where two or more of us are gathered, he is present. Well, at the Council, thousands had gathered, joined together daily in prayer, invoking the help of the Holy Spirit. To say, therefore, that the Council was a mistake, is to believe that the Holy Spirit does not guide the Church. This, I think, is scandalous. We might as well question the presence of the Holy Spirit among us at mass, and doubt the miracle of Transubstantiation during the Eucharist. Luckily, I have faith in the work of the Holy Spirit, and I do believe scripture where it says, "What God wills, God does, in heaven and earth, and in the deepest sea." The naysayers will not thwart the work of the Spirit, the Church will live despite efforts on one said to make the Church a museum, and on the other, to dismantle it all together.
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What was painfully evident from the questions asked by the audience (and I think the majority of questions came from women (who were in the majority, period), was a level of distrust, scepticism, bitterness, fear, and doubt. Maybe I've written this before, but I'm continually amazed at the degree of unrest/division in the Catholic Church--the divide between its lay members and its clergy. I did not pick up on this from my home parish/diocese in Covington, and only realized the issues once I became a religious. Some clergy/seminarians are on the defensive. Laity is angry, harboring a sense of betrayal. On both sides, I hear people demonizing those on the "other side". In many ways, I think the divisions are simply the willed creations of a few who are trying to reshape the Church into the Church they want it to be. I always thought it worked the other way around, myself, with the Church helping to transform us. People want to talk about power and who has it, and who should have it. What do people want with power anyway? Christians are called to serve, to love, to follow Jesus's example of obedience.

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It's definitely an interesting time to be a Catholic Christian. It puts me in mind of those heroic Catholics who have mainly gone unsung, who during the Reformation era held fast to the faith that has been handed down from the Apostles. I'm sure many of them had questions, and wondered "what if..." I'm sure many of them didn't agree with Father X, Bishop Y, or Pope Z, and many of them had suggestions about how things ought to be, with regard to things like liturgy. Or maybe they didn't. Maybe they just held on to what they knew. Either way, their loyalty and/or love of the Church is an important gift to us who hold the faith today. Without it, there would be no Church. It's my opinion that any discussions on the Church should be based on a radical love and gratitude for it. Only then can our various opinions and hurts be tempered by a greater, selfless orientation toward listening to the will of God, which is articulated to us as a community, a body of believers.

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By the way, Blessed John XXIII gave Bishop De Roo his own personal ring. I was privileged to hold this relic of the much beloved pope at the end of the meeting. I'm sure Blessed John is praying for us all, along with his brother popes who enjoy the bliss of Heaven.

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P~

Happy St. Hilary of Poitiers Day!

Well, school has begun again. I've only had my first class, and already I'm fighting the usual anxieties about time and homework management.
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To stay on task, I've been reading the section of Aquinas's Summa Theologiae that I've been assigned for class. The class is looking at the third part of the Summa only, which is the part all about Jesus. My section, questions 43-49, has to do with (among other things) the miracles of Jesus. Fittingly, I just came across a question where Aquinas uses St. Hilary of Poitiers as a resource for his own answer.
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In question 44, article four, Aquinas addresses the question: "Whether Christ worked miracles fittingly on irrational creatures?" Objection 2 of this article states: "Further, punishment is not justly inflicted save for fault. But it was not the fault of the fig-tree that Christ found no fruit on it, when fruit was not in season (see Mark 11:13). Therefore it seems unfitting that He withered it up."
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I love that Aquinas includes this objection, because I can recall having a discussion on this very event years ago, and I believe I fell for the objection, thinking to myself that it had been unreasonable for Jesus to expect fruit out of season, and so it was rather an emotional and irrational thing to have withered the "innocent" tree. A coworker of mine who was a skeptic, argued that this action of Jesus showed that he wasn't always charitable or loving. After all, one could ask: "Why didn't Jesus simply cause the tree to bear fruit?"
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Well, Aquinas cites St. John Chrysostom where he answers this objection, saying: "When our Lord does any suchlike thing [on plants or brute animals], ask not how it was just to wither up the fig-tree, since it was not the fruit season; to ask such a question is foolish in the extreme, ...but look at the miracle, and wonder at the worker." ---So that's Chrysostom's reply, which does make a point, but does not truly address the objection, which he merely dismisses as foolish.
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St. Hilary (the saint of the day), makes a good point, and I think does answer the objection (which is why Aquinas uses him, of course): "We should see in this [God's use of creatures for the salvation of others] a proof of God's goodness, for when He wished to afford an example of salvation as being procured by Him, He exercised His mighty power on the human body [a reference to the many miraculous healings Jesus performed]: but when He wished to picture to them His severity towards those who wilfully disobey Him, He foreshadows their doom by His sentence on the tree."
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Back to my reading...
P~

Historic Covington, Kentucky

My readers know what an enthusiast I am for photography, so I can't resist posting countless pictures. Hope you all don't mind.
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Today, I went downtown Covington to take pictures of the historic houses and buildings of Licking-Riverside. The gem of the lot, I think, is the Mimosa Mansion (pictured immediately below).

The Baker-Hunt Art School on Greenup St. always reminds me of the house on "Designing Women".

To the right is First United Methodist Church.

Here's Trinity Episcopal Church. It's unusual in many ways, especially the L shape of the sanctuary. It's got great Tiffany stained-glass windows.

Above is the renovated Odd Fellows Hall. It's had an interesting history, including serving as a prison for Confederate soldiers during the Civil War. Later on, the third floor (which is suspended) was a public roller rink.

Finally, here's a picture of the Arthur Apartments. I lived for a year in this building. It was my first experience of independent/single life.

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If you're in the Greater Cincinnati/Northern Kentucky area, take time to see the great architecture.

P~

St. Benedict's Church Covington, Kentucky

Tomorrow, I return home to the priory in St. Louis. During my stay in my hometown, Covington, Kentucky, I attended weekday mass at the parish of St. Benedict, the crown of Covington's Austinburg neighborhood. I have always been impressed by St. Benedict's exterior, in particular, it's bell tower, but I was even more pleased by the recent renovations the parish has undergone in the interior of the church.

I wish I had taken pictures of the old interior. Suffice it to say, the tabernacle had once been off to the side, the statues were in different and odd places, and there was something like a cross behind the altar. As shown in the pictures below, the tabernacle has be placed at the center, flanked by the statues of St. Benedict and his twin sister, St. Scholastica. There's a new and recognizable cross suspended over the altar, and new and traditional looking statues of Ss. Mary and Joseph are to the left and right (as expected). Well done, St. Ben's!

By the way, St. Benedict's has the best set of bells in the city of Covington. They now chime every hour, and the bell tower is lit up at night like a lighthouse.

Kentucky Holy Land Pilgrimage

Yesterday, a friend and I made a pilgrimage to the Kentucky Holy Land, visiting Gethsemani Abbey, home of the first Trappist abbey in the United States (and home of Thomas Merton); St. Thomas Catholic Church, est. circ. 1812; and St. Joseph's Proto-Cathedral, Bardstown, circa 1819.

These cluster of pictures are from Gethsemani Abbey.

The cross to the left was brought over by the first French Trappist monks who established the abbey.

These next pictures are of the tiny Catholic Church, St. Thomas, Bardstown.

These last pictures are of the first Catholic cathedral established west of the mountains. Eventually, the seat was moved to Louisville. Before that, it was in Bardstown, a charming Kentucky city with plenty for tourists to come and see, including My Old Kentucky Home.