Month: October 2023

ON THE ORIGIN OF FEAST DAYS

In my liturgical principles class at the St Paul Seminary (in which I read so many rubrics I was seeing red … it’s an inside liturgical joke), Fr. Mike Joncas revealed to us the origin of the Feast Day.

The Christian Church initially celebrated three very solemn feasts, the primary feast was and remains Easter. The second most important solemn feast was Pentecost, the birth of the Christian Church. And the third most important solemn feast, celebrated largely to lure Christians away from the pagan Saturnalia festivals with all its drunken debauchery, Christmas.

It was in the Roman Catacombs during the height of Christian persecution by Imperial Rome that the feast day of deceased Christians, mostly martyrs, was celebrated. As Joncas related, these feast days, celebrated on the day of a person’s death and birth into heaven, was done primarily to appease the deceased and prevent the deceased from haunting the Christian community. Over time, the superstitious fear of being haunted was lost and replaced by honoring and remembering people who lived exceptional lives of faith.

Over time, an “official” calendar of saints in the Roman Catholic Church was established. A process of canonization was established and continues to evolve with different popes making alterations usually to squeeze their “favorite people” through the canonization process. The process, like so many other things in human institutions has become more and more political and also more expensive (it pays to have rich patrons help to financially push through candidates for sainthood). Like most things created by humans it is a flawed process with many, in my opinion, not deserving of sainthood being canonized, among whom I would number Pius IX, Pius X, and John Paul  II; and,  those most deserving of sainthood being ignored or discarded, for instance Dorothy Day, and until the pontificate of Pope Francis, John XIII and Oscar Romero. Of course, there are those rare individuals whom the faithful demand to be canonized, for example, Francis of Assisi and Mother Teresa of Calcutta.

While I observe and honor those whose major feasts are celebrated, e.g. Apostles, evangelists, and of course the major Solemn Feasts, I have established my own Canon of Saints of those people I have known and admired over the years. Among that number would be my dad and my mom, who lived exemplary lives, parishioners like Blanche Schutrop from St Hubert, Fr Pat Griffin from St Stephen’s, and so many more. The one criteria for sainthood for me is not how they have served a religious institution, but how they have lived the Gospel. They need not even be Catholic, or Christian, but how they understood and lived unconditional love in their own religious traditions and cultures. So it is easy for me to celebrate the feast day of Mahatma Ghandi, along with Martin Luther King Jr. and Dietrich Bonhoeffer.

DENNY DEMPSEY 

And, so, I remember in a very special way, Denny Dempsey, on his feast day, today. Was Denny perfect? Of course, not. Denny was as human as you and me. He had his flaws and like all human beings struggled to live his faith and his vocation as a priest each and every day.

Did Denny ever have doubts about his faith? Just like you and me, he did. Everyone in church ministry will ask themselves the question, “Just what was I thinking when I became a priest, or a minister, or a permanent deacon?” I have told the story before, but one time during Lent, when we were praying Evening Prayer from the Liturgy of the Hours, he asked me if our lives in church ministry was based on nothing. In other words, was the story of Christ, upon which we dedicated our ministry and our lives, largely fictional and just a story and nothing more. My reply was that if it were, then at least living lives meant to assist people through crises was a worthy way to live. We all have our “Jeremiah moments” when our voices join that of the prophet who cried out to God, “Lord, you duped me and I allowed myself to be duped!” And yet, like Jeremiah, filled with our own doubts and inadequacies, we persevere.

There are three people I know who were extremely close to Denny: 1) his spiritual director, 2) Fr Kevin Clinton, and 3) my wife, Ruthie, who was his confidant when Denny was associate pastor at St Wenceslaus. She, to this day, guards the conversations they had back then, very closely. And, I am relieved that he found that confidant in Ruth.

WHY DENNY IS IN MY COMMUNION OF SAINTS

What elevates Denny to sainthood for me is the way that he lived to the best of his ability the Gospel of Jesus. He poured himself out in so many ways to the people whom he served. Whether it was helping farmers bail hay, or fixing the bikes of the kids in town, leading canoe trips or bike trips for youth and young adults, comforting the sick, attending the dying and their families, fixing my washing machine on Easter Sunday, or celebrating the sacraments in church, Denny was 100 percent there for you.

Denny never had the dualism that we often equate with religious practice e.g. we do the ‘holy’ things at church on Sunday, and then everything done outside the church is not designated as sacred or holy. Many of us live in this false dichotomy in which our behavior in church is different from the way we behave outside of church, as if outside of church we can do things that God is unable to see. Not so with Denny. the Mass over which he presided in church was not set apart from the bikes he fixed, the hay he bailed, the cows he milked, and the meals he ate in people’s homes. It was all one and the same. All of the world was part of the grand sacred liturgy that just began in church and extended out into the greater world outside the church building.

My mother told me a story about Denny when he was leading a Lenten parish mission at her parish, St Rose of Lima, in Roseville, MN. In the middle of Denny’s talk, a woman in the congregation suffered a sudden stroke. People ran to assist the stricken woman and in their midst was Denny Dempsey who cradled the head of the woman on his lap and comforted her while they awaited the arrival of the paramedics. My mother was so struck by his love and compassion for the woman. I told my mom, that what she witnessed was genuine and authentic. That was who Denny really is. Denny personified for many people Christ’s love and compassion, especially for those who were most in need.

Denny lived very simply. Whatever he could not fit into the topper of his small Toyota pickup truck, he would leave behind. His only prized possessions were his guitar, his bike, and his canoe. Now over time, I am sure that rusted out Toyota truck was replaced with something more rusty and the canoe was replaced with a kayak. However, the Epiphone guitar and his bike were probably the same as those he had with him when he was assigned to St Wenceslaus in the 1980’s. He was frugal even with chewing gum, known to chew the same piece of gum for several days, and placing that gum on a “gum caddy” alongside his bed at night.

With the exception of liturgies, he dressed like the flock he shepherded, living to the fullest Pope Francis’ mandate that shepherds must smell like their sheep. He did not need cassocks, clerics, birettas and all the other clerical garb that many young priests and restorationist priests believe a priest must wear to gain the respect of their parishioners. Denny dismissed all the clerical trappings and earned the love and respect of his parishioners by simply being there with them and serving them.

He had a good sense of humor and did not put on airs. I remember when Denny did his Spanish immersion, in order to serve Venezuelan parishioners Jesu Cristo Resuscitado (Jesus Christ Resurrected) and later, the Latino community in this Archdiocese. He was asked by a group of Latinos how long he had been ordained a priest. He replied, “Tengo quince anos.” The people laughed and asked him again. Denny repeated, “Tengo quince anos.” They laughed all the more and asked him again. Again, Denny replied, “Tengo quince anos.” They laughed and laughed and asked him again how long he had been ordained a priest. By this time, Denny knew something was not quite right. He had been using the wrong word for year. The Spanish word for year is años. He had been using the Spanish word anos, which means anus. He had been telling the people not that he had been ordained fifteen years, but he had 15 anuses. His self-deprecating humor remained intact for the rest of his life. When he told me the story I replied that with 15 anuses, at the very least, he had many alternate ways of sitting down.

Denny was my spiritual mentor, my good friend, and I chose him as my advisor and director for my graduate school project at the St Paul Seminary.  I recognize that my life was just one of so many lives he impacted so positively during this life as a priest. Fr Kevin Clinton and Denny spent much of the weekend together prior to Denny’s death. Kevin told me that Denny had said to him, that when he (Denny) was ordained, he was in the middle of the road of the Catholic Church. However, Denny told Kevin that now he found himself in the left ditch that ran alongside that road. Denny, like Kevin, and myself, are one in that statement. In serving those on the margins of society and of the Church, we find ourselves in the company of Jesus who served those on the margins of his society and his religion.

It is a custom for many of us to often ask our friends to pray for us. I count myself among their number. And, people often ask me to pray for them. So every morning, I have my list of people for whom I will pray by name.

Along with those on earth, I ask my family and friends in heaven, the Communion of Saints, to pray for me. I have no idea about how long I will be walking, some days shuffling, along on this earth, and I continue to need their love, their prayers, and their guidance.

The one thing years of ministry have taught me is that death does not end our relationships of love and friendship with those who have died. On the contrary, death amplifies far greater our relationships of love and friendship. Just as nothing can separate us from the love of God, so too, nothing can separate us from our loved ones and friends.So, my good friend, Denny, from your place in the fullness of God’s love, I ask you to pray for me.

Happy feast day, Denny!

I have been reflecting on the Gospel for this past weekend, and Pope Francis’ Synod in Rome.

In the parable of the King’s wedding feast for his son, Matthew 22:1-10, Jesus tells the story of the King inviting guests to the wedding feast. Upon receiving the first invitation, the formally invited guests refuse to come to the feast. So, the King sends servants out with a second invitation. This invitation is either ignored by those invited, or they expressed their indignation at being invited by torturing and killing those whom the King had sent with the invitation. Angered at their refusal and the maltreatment and murder of his servants, the King sends his army to destroy all those who were invited. The King then orders his servants to go the highways and byways, the alleys and the streets and invite ALL, most of whom were poor and neglected, vulnerable and forgotten to the wedding feast. And ALL are welcomed by the King and enjoy the feast.

POPE FRANCIS’ WORLDWIDE SYNOD

What Pope Francis I is doing with the Synod in Rome is inviting all to this worldwide Synod, to hear the voices of not just the hierarchy of the Church but to listen and to empower, and encourage the laity, men and women, to speak openly and honestly about the state of the Church and how it meets and does not meet their spiritual needs. This is reminiscent of Pope John XXIII’s Ecumenical council, Vatican II, in which Pope John invited not just Roman Catholic bishops to the Council, but invited bishops of ALL Christian denominations to attend. Pope Francis’ Synod and Pope John’s Vatican II share one vital thing in common, both are INCLUSIVE, welcoming ALL to speak and confer.

OPPOSITION TO THE INCLUSIVITY OF POPE FRANCIS

Clearly, many bishops, mainly conservatives and those entrenched in the corrupted Roman Curia at the Vatican, were bitterly opposed to Pope John’s Vatican II. Similarly, there are bishops and priests in the United States and elsewhere, including five very vocal Cardinals, namely, Walter Brandmueller (Germany), Raymond Burke (United States), Robert Sarah (Guinea), Juan Sandoval (Mexico), and Joseph Zen (Hong Kong), who are bitterly opposed to everything Pope Francis is doing and are working to undermine his teachings and his desire for the Church to be inclusive.

These cardinals, bishops, and priests do not want the inclusive Church of Pope Francis, but rather the closed, exclusive Church of Pope John Paul II, and Pope Benedict XVI, who spoke of an exclusive, smaller and more faithful Church. This conservative ecclesiastical vision of the Church is in complete opposition to the teachings and the ministry of Jesus, who welcomed all to the Reign of God.

A PRE-DATED MODEL OF HOW THE SYNOD CAN WORK IN A CATHOLIC PARISH

As I reflected on this Gospel reading, I thought especially of the former St Stephen’s Catholic Church in South Minneapolis, whose parish mission stated that the Church was a large circus tent under which all were welcome. The vitality of St Stephen’s when I was assigned there was found in the diversity of people, from those who were developmentally disabled, to those in the LGBTQ+ community, to ex-offender, to former priests and religious, to the homeless, to the Latino community, and to disenfranchised from society and other faith traditions, in other words, the exact milieu of Jesus when he was doing his earthly ministry.

St Stephen’s at that time, predated the Synod of Pope Francis. Every year we would have a parish wide meeting at which parish leadership would listen to the concerns, the needs, and interests of ALL in the parish. This work at inclusion was the driving force that made this parish, at that time, so vital and so successful as a church and its outreach to the poor and disenfranchised of South Minneapolis. It was the vision of this community that created St Stephen’s Human Services (now a part of Agate) with all its services to the poor and the homeless of South Minneapolis. (Note: this model of how to do Church continues in the Spirit of St Stephen’s Community).

THE PARALLEL OF THE PARABLE WITH THE SYNOD IN ROME AND IN ALL DIOCESES

There is a direct parallel to this parable to what is happening in the Roman Catholic Church worldwide, and and what is suppose to be happening in the Roman Catholic Church in the United States.

Are our dioceses and our parishes inclusive in welcoming all to the Roman Catholic Church regardless of whether they are LGBTQ+, ex-offenders, other cultures and races, homeless or disenfranchised, and disabilities? Or do we find our diocese and parishes excluding those who don’t look like us, or worship like us, or whose sexual orientation is different from us, or whose culture and race differs from us, or those who are questioning their faith and are seriously searching for God in their spirituality? I am finding more and more of our parishes with the leadership of priests less inclusive of all, and more exclusive and non-welcoming.

For me, it is clear that those who oppose inclusion in the Roman Catholic Church, like Burke, Sarah, Brandmueller, Yen, and Sandoval, and clergy like them, are similar to those who were invited to the King’s feast, and either rejected the invitation altogether or ignored the invitation.

THE SYNOD IN THE ARCHDIOCESE

Is the synod being rolled out in this Archdiocese truly welcoming and empowering the baptized laity of this Archdiocese, giving them a voice in how our parishes are run? Or, is it all for show, paying lip service to the intent of Pope Francis? In other words, is the intent of the hierarchy of this Archdiocese to give people a real voice in the church, or just give the faithful an illusion of being inclusive and having a voice in our church, with the Archdiocese pursuing its own exclusive agenda, controlling, stymieing dialogue, and silencing all which it does not want to hear? Given the past history of this Archdiocese and by own personal experience, I think it is more the latter than the former.

As a former president of the Deacon Council, we spent a whole year of 2000 doing a self-study of the diaconate. We spent a lot of time in meetings with all the deacons and their wives at the bequest of Archbishop Flynn. When the conclusions of the deacons were given to Flynn, and Flynn found the conclusions did not match what he wanted, he squashed and basically condemned the self-study. Many deacons remember the meeting when the diaconal community presented the findings to the Archbishop Flynn and his chancery entourage, the night of Easter Monday, or what we later called Black Monday. Flynn’s rejection was vicious and brutal and all of our work condemned and suppressed.

This same thing has happened time and time again in this Archdiocese in other matters. As much as I wish this synod would be different, I cynically believe that an honest dialogue with the hierarchy of the Archdiocese will not happen, and the real spiritual needs of the people of this Archdiocese will either be ignored or dismissed by the hierarchy.

CONCLUSION

The hierarchy of the Church had better reflect on this parable. Jesus’ parable of the Wedding Feast clearly states that God’s Reign is not a closed, exclusive invitation, but the invitation to God’s Reign is open to all. Jesus clearly states that those who hold themselves exclusive and reject the invitation to the wedding feast, will similarly find themselves excluded from the Reign of God. Whom the hierarchy rejects, God accepts!

Since this past Saturday, when Hamas conducted its own “Tet Offensive” in the nation of Israel, I have thought of the great amount of violence and shedding of human blood that has been absorbed deeply into the soil of this land. So often, descriptive accounts of battle next to bodies of water, speak of rivers running red with the blood of those killed. When one digs into the soil of Palestine, it is a land saturated by thousands and thousands of years of human blood shed in war.

Over the past 60 years, archaeologists in their digs have dug deep into the history of this land. They have discovered all sorts of information, from the illnesses, the parasites, and diets of ancient peoples to finding no archaeological proof that King David ever existed. They have revealed falsehoods in the biblical texts for instance, the Israelites crossed the Reed Sea, not the Red Sea, manna is a natural occurring phenomena not just a miracle, and though the Israelites were a warrior nomadic tribe, they did not militarily overcome the populations of Canaan, but rather intermarried with the people of Canaan to such an extent that their culture overcame the native cultures of Canaan (the very thing the Egyptians feared and led to the Israelites being enslaved). However, the one brutal thing the archaeologists have uncovered has been thousands of years of warfare that has been linked to this land.

Many cities in this area, are built upon Tells, the ruined remains of cities destroyed by war. Upon the ruins of Jerusalem, and all other major populated areas, new cities have arisen, only to be destroyed by war again and again and again, and new cities built upon the destroyed bones, human and structural, of former civilizations.

This whole area is a vast graveyard of human beings, rather reminiscent of the vision that Ezekiel was given by God of a vast valley covered with the bleached bones of a destroyed army (Ezekiel 17:1-10).

The closest thing to this kind of phenomena happened in the American Civil War. Two battles (Bull Run) were fought in Manassas, Virginia, on the same battlefield, one year apart. The North lost both battles. Eyewitness accounts by those who fought in the second bitter, destructive battle, spoke of marching on and fighting upon the bleached bones of soldiers and horses that were killed during the first battle of Manassas. They literally fought on a vast graveyard of war and in the second battle, contributed their own bodies to those killed the year before. And so it is in all of Palestine.

What is it about this cursed land that the Babylonian armies of Nebuchadenezzar, the armies of Persia, the Greeks, the Egyptians, or the Romans, the Saracens, the Crusaders, the French, the English, to name just a few, were willing to sacrifice so much life to occupy this bleached, barren place? I cannot think of some vast mineral deposit, or carbon based energy that would make Palestine such a desired piece of property for people to exploit for wealth. We call it the “Holy Land”, I think it more the “Cursed Land.” If the “New Jerusalem”, about which is often sung in a lot of melodramatic hymns, is this place, I am not so sure I would wish to spend eternity there.

Now, there is war in Palestine. Another war added on top of thousands of years of countless war and destruction. Hamas and Hizballah plan is to destroy the state of Israel and all Israelis. They are willing to commit any level of atrocity against the populace of Israel. The brutality of violence and the heightened war crimes against the Israelites this past weekend is only matched by the Nazis in World War II.

Hamas intent to end the existence of the state of Israel will ironically put an end to Hamas, and tragically the Palestinians trapped in the Gaza Strip. Hammurabis’ ‘law of an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth will be enacted upon by Israel. As the state of Israel hunted down and assassinated all involved in the massacre during the Olympic games in Munich, so they will be relentless in hunting down all involved in the attack that has butchered so many innocent Israelis. Israel will avenge the atrocities committed by Hamas and Hizballah. Whether it takes a year or many years, Israel will hunt the perpetrators down and destroy them.

Nobody believes Jesus when he taught that violence will only beget more violence. In the Gospels, Jesus abrogated Hammurabi and Moses’ laws of an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. One of his last teachings to his disciples was that those who live by the sword will die by the sword. As Mahatma Ghandi once preached, “An eye for an eye only makes the whole world blind.” Instead, both Jesus, and many years later, Ghandi, taught love your enemy, pray for those who persecute you. In simple terms, both Jesus and Ghandi tells us to “END THE CYCLE OF VIOLENCE!” The only way you can end the cycle of violence is to love!

I believe, especially for those who are disciples of Jesus, and those who are disciples of Ghandi, that it is up to us to end the cycle of violence by love. In our own way, we are called, as the prophet Ezekiel, to preach God’s word of love to the bleached, dried, dead bones that litter our societies. If you remember the story, Ezekiel started to prophesy to the dead bones. As he prophesized, the scattered bones began to take shape again as bodies, sinews started to grow upon the bones, and flesh began to form upon the bodies. But they remained lifeless. Then God commanded Ezekiel to prophesy to the four winds and as the winds blew through the valley, they breathed life into the dead bodies. As God’s breath filled the bodies, they arose and lived again. The message our lives must prophesy is the message of Jesus to love. Ghandi prophesied the same message with his life. Dr Martin Luther King Jr prophesied the same message with his life. Dag Hammarskjold prophesied the same message with his life. Mother Teresa prophesied the same message with her life. I believe, Pope Francis is prophesying the same message right now. This is the message we must be devoted to prophesy, too, in our lives.

Those involved in the massacre of innocent Israelis this past weekend will be hunted down like animals and will, in turn, be ruthlessly taken out. The cycle of violence will only continue. One of the very few things said by John Paul II with which I agree, are the words he uttered when the United States unilaterally declared war on Iraq. In condemning the invasion of the United States, John Paul II said, “All war is a defeat for humanity.” With this war being waged by Hamas, Hizballah, and Israel, the circle of violence will continue, And H.G. Wells words, above, will become true.

Prologue

It is a fact, that the game of football, in particular professional football, has an adverse effect upon most males.

I have written about this before, however, it bears repeating. Within each male, there are a X and a Y chromosome. This we know from biology class. However, there is also present within the nucleus of each male cell what I call the “dumb gene.” It reveals itself when professional football (read this as either American Football, World Football (soccer), and maybe Rugby) is played. Scan the crowd at the typical American football game. The most gaudy, outrageous, and ridiculously dressed and worse behaved among the spectators are generally male. I was once one inflicted with the effects of the gene, so much so, that it would raise within me most displeasing behavior and a tendency to use all the curse words the Benedictine monks taught me in high school (words I usually only used while working on the plumbing of my home).

The Cure for the Dumb Gene

Ashamed, I was at the point of seeking out a 12 step group for those afflicted by this gene. I came to regard Viking football games as a near occasion of sin that should be confessed to a priest (though, knowing a number of priests similarly afflicted, they would agree with my reaction and not regard my outburst as a sin.)

Over time, I found ways to try and thwart this sin. It was my lovely bride, Ruthie, who came up with a marvelous way of doing this for myself, and my sons, Andy and Luke (who are also recovering Viking fans). Food. In short, she found that good food eaten during a Viking game takes away the shame of poor play, poor coaching, and many defeats.

Over the years, my lovely bride, Ruth, use to make a smorgasbord of wonderful, delightful food to digest, while we were swallowing another miserable loss by the Vikings. Buffalo wings of various degrees of spice, cocktail wieners, cheese and crackers plates, vegetable trays with ranch and dill dip, chips etc have all been served. Frozen daiquiris use to assist in this endeavor until age and the heartburn effect of rum started to rear its ugly presence. Nowadays, water and the occasional Long Island Ice Tea are the likely beverages to help wash down the wonderful food to disguise the taste of bitter football defeat.

Chili

Yesterday, my beautiful bride once more surpassed her culinary skills in creating a wonderful batch of chili to be consumed as Kansas City was defeating the Vikings. Along with my 24 ounces of water, I made myself a brandy Manhattan (two cherries) to drink. Mexican wisdom states that water chases the fire created by spicy foods, hence the alcoholic drink … that’s my story and I am sticking to it.

Ruthie did not spare the spices. It was clear that red cayenne pepper was, indeed, very present. It was delicious, so much so, that I treated myself to a bowl and a half, with occasional sips from my brandy Manhattan. Even though the Vikings found a way to lose in the waning seconds of the game, the chili gave me that pleasant feeling of fulfillment.

Granted, after watching the Vikings fail time and time again, cynicism is a part of one’s constitution to such a degree that the constant defeats have a numbing effect and come no way near being as crushing as they once were because one totally expects the team to screw up and lose. When they actually win a game, it approaches something akin to winning the Super Bowl.

And yet in death, alive …

However, the particular hot spices of the Chili have a way, like food from McDonalds, to continue to make its presence known long after it has been eaten. It is reminiscent of a recitative sung in the PDQ Bach’s cantata, “Iphigenia In Brooklyn.” “And lo, she found herself within a market. and all around her, fish were dying. And yet, their stench did live on. Dying! Dying! Dying! And yet in death alive! Dying! Dying! Dying! And yet in death alive! Die! Die! Die! Die! Die. Dietee dietee dietee dietee dietee die! And yet, yet, and yet, and yet, and yet in death alive.”

And, so, Ruthie, Luke, and I settled ourselves in for an evening of Twins baseball, which, win or lose, never necessitates food or drink to enjoy. To aid in my digestive discomfort, I took my evening dose of omeprazole, which did take the edge off the chili a little bit for a little while. However, judging by the belching and passing of wind (as the British delicately phrase it), I felt a bit like one of the cowboys eating beans around the campfire and farting and belching in Mel Brooks classic comedy, Blazing Saddles.

Initially, I think the dog was rather impressed by my display of gaseous output, but she, along with the rest of the family soon tired of it. I chased down my night medications with a glass of milk, and settled in for what I believed would be a restless night of sleep.

I awakened six hours and thirty minutes later with my gut quoting dialogue from the movie comedy, Major Payne. In one of the beginning scenes, Major Payne holds a 45 revolver to the terrorist leader’s butt stating to all the terrorists around him, “I can clean your colon out quicker than…one of them burritos with extra guacamole sauce.” (Note: there are very memorable quotes from this movie, one other quote the response of Major Payne to one of the recruits who asks him to have some sympathy. Payne’s response is, “The only place you will find sympathy is between shit and syphilis in the dictionary.”)

Attending to my need, I remembered a similar Sunday Viking meal of buffalo wings, Ruthie prepared, with a spice pack she had never used before. Andy brought those buffalo wings to work for lunch the next day and shared them with his co-workers. One of whom remarked to Andy the following morning, “Damn, Andy! I thought they were hot going in! But, damn, they were hotter going out!” Truer words were never spoken.

Conclusion

I am sure that there may be some whose delicate constitution might find this reflection in bad taste. However, most who work in the medical profession (of which Ruth and both of my daughters are and who never had a filter when they shared work stories of bodily fluids etc during supper), many women married to men with the “dumb gene”, and most guys (as defined by Dave Barry in his classic, “Dave Barry’s Guide to Guys”.), will utterly agree with this reflection.

I find the chili eaten and its effects and epiphany, a grand gastronomical symbol of Viking football over four decades.

The lesson learned from this weekend’s Minnesotan sporting events. 1) The Gopher Football team is not very good. Fleck likes to inspire them to “row the boat.” Well, Fleck, row the boat faster and bail at the same time. The boat is sinking faster than the Titanic. 2) The Vikings, in the words of Butthead, “Suck like nothing has ever sucked before”(from the movie, Beavis and Butthead Do America.”). And, 3) the Twins rule! Oh, and 4) either refrain from a bowl and a half of very spicy chili, or eat far, far less of the stuff (even though it tastes really good going down). Or, 5) focus on women’s sports, like the Minnesota Gopher Volleyball team.

On Friday, Ruthie and I received our 6^th Covid vaccine. I remember in the early dark days of 2021, when the first vaccine came out. It was the first sign of hope for human life, at least in the United States. The failed administration of trump had been voted out of office, and a responsible administration oversaw the distribution of the vaccines from which we would eventually emerge from quarantine lock down and begin to re-socialize as a society.

Vaccine protected, we have been cautiously reentering into the world from our Covid hermitages from which we sheltered from the raging death around us. Covid in all its many manifestations and mutations is still killing people, 15,000 alone in Minnesota thus far this year. Two years later, many of us still bear the scars of that isolation, and spiritual and emotional wounds opened during that time, have yet to close for many of us. I am still hesitant to go to crowded events, the most crowded I will attend is Saturday evening Mass at our parish, Pax Christi in Eden Prairie.

Upon getting “stuck” a sixth time, for which I am extremely grateful, I remember some of the incredible hope and joy I experienced during those very dark days of death in 2020 and 2021.

THAT WAS THEN …

There was a time when the majority of Americans were united. We were cheering on the medical heroes and heroines in our medical facilities who were overwhelmed by the pandemic and all the exhaustion, hopelessness, and death they witnessed 24/7. Because of corporate greed and the shortsightedness and denial policies of trump’s administration, we faced an extreme shortage of ventilators and N-94 masks for our own medical personnel, who had to work in extremely dangerous situations with little needed equipment to protect them. Many of these heroes in assisting those gravely ill, ended up infected and dying from the pandemic. My daughter Meg, working at the Vets Home in South Minneapolis, my daughter Beth, working at Hennepin County Medical Center, were on the front lines of Covid and experienced the brunt of the pandemic. My sons, Luke and Andy, were considered necessary workers and worked all during the lock down.

2020-2021 were incredibly and tragically dark and fearful. I remember the visual images of refrigerator trucks lined up outside of hospitals as temporary morgues for all the victims of the pandemic. The mass common graves dug to handle all the dead in cities, e.g. Hart Island off the shore of New York City remain still very vivid.

I remember how our religious leaders, especially of Christian denominations, betrayed their church members. Many of these leaders preaching that God would never betray disciples of Jesus Christ  and infect them with Covid, and continued to hold services, often without masks, only to aid in spreading the Covid infection and destroying the lives of so many in their congregations. Whole families, parents and children, were wiped out because they believed their religious leaders. The stupidity of these leaders infuriated me. I wrote a very irate letter to the priest in charge of the Liturgical Commission in the Archdiocese about the Archbishop allowing communion on the tongue. He replied that the Archbishop was a Canon Lawyer and was within his power to allow it. I replied back that the Archbishop was not a medical doctor and that the reception of communion on the tongue was forbidden on the European continent, including Vatican City! I concluded the letter stating that when Jesus said, “Do this in memory of me,” he did not mean spreading Covid and death!” I am sure that did not endear me to that priest, nor the Archbishop.

Yet, even in those very dark times, when idiots denying Covid, mainly MAGA zombies and the irresponsible, who didn’t believe they would ever get sick and die, were running around, spreading the pandemic in our churches, on the beaches of Florida and other coastal States, and everywhere in Texas, there was still hope and a solidarity among many Americans.

THE HOLY SPIRIT AND THE LITURGY OF THE WORLD

I found that hope in the arts, many of which were presented on YouTube.

Shows like Josh Gad’s Reunited Apart, in which casts of the actors of many of our favorite movies, especially from the 80’s and 90’s, e.g. The Goonies, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, The Lord of the Ring Trilogy to name a few, gathered virtually to talk about the filming of their movies and where they were in their present lives.

John Krasinski aired episodes of Some Good News about people coping with life under lock down. One of the most entertaining of which was episode 7 in which a couple gets married virtually on the show, with Krasinski presiding and the cast of The Office virtually recreating the wedding procession dance from the wedding of Jim and Pam in the show.

Shelbie Rassier, a music graduate from the Berkley College of Music, orchestrated and directed a virtual orchestra and singers in the song, “What the World Needs Now.” What a creative, wonderful way to bring hope to people who felt hopeless.

Composer and musical director, Eric Whitacre, released a number of choral pieces he composed for choir on YouTube, sung by a virtual choir gathered from all over the world. This video, Sleep, that he created is nothing more than a gift of grace from God. With each viewing, I remain spiritually and emotionally uplifted.

In spending time watching and meditating on this incredible output of creativity, I could only think of how the Holy Spirit, using all these diverse people and the talents they have, was a sign and a gift of God’s grace in our world. This creative, artistic surge is what the Catholic theologian, Karl Rahner, had begun to develop when he wrote the theological concept of “The Liturgy of the World” in which the Holy Spirit uses the secular music and art of the world to create Divine liturgy in our lives.

… AND THIS IS NOW

We are once more entering into a very dark and bleak time in our nation. The failed insurrection of donald trump has not ended. trump, the political and religious right are still seeking to destroy democracy in the United States and replace it with a kind of fascist, Christian theocracy. The days ahead of us will continue to be fraught with anxiety. Tragically, the brief moment of solidarity of Americans has collapsed. I pray that the Holy Spirit may once more inspire our secular composers, our musicians, our artists and use their talents to create a Liturgy of Hope in the months ahead of us.

Lest we slip into despair, as many had during the early years of the pandemic, we can gain hope believe it or not in Psalm 22. Though the psalmist laments his present condition, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me,” at the conclusion of the song, the psalmist acknowledges that God will sustain him and be victorious. So may we cast our eyes beyond the dark present to the hope and victory that awaits us.