Working in mysterious ways

We here in Kentucky are all caught up in the 200th birthday of native son Abraham Lincoln these days. But tomorrow marks the 200th birthday of another world-changing figure, Charles Darwin. And ironically the scripture texts for this week are from the second chapter of Genesis. So tomorrow, on Darwin's birthday, I get to preach God creating Eve out of Adams rib.

Only I'm pretty sure that Eve was an ape with a favorable genetic mutation. In a long line of favorable mutations going back to some primordial biological ooze.

And I'm glad I'm part of a church that takes the reality of reality seriously.

In spite of the reputation the church has gotten over the whole Galileo thing, the Vatican has had an academy of scientists for more than 400 years. And you know who the first president was? More irony. Galileo himself. Current membership includes Stephen Hawking. And past members include Max Planck, the founder of quantum theory; Werner Heisenberg, known for his uncertainty principle; and Erwin Schrödinger, who had a famous cat.

As I said, we take the reality of reality seriously. Because if God is the source of all creation, then understanding creation is going to lead us closer to God. Even when it challenges the way we may look at things.

It took us a while to get over the idea that the earth wasn't the center of God's universe. But eventually we had to accept reality. Evolution didn't take as long. In 1950, less than 100 years after the publication of Darwin's On the Origin of Species, Pope Pius XII opened the door to research and discussion of "the doctrine of evolution, in as far as it inquires into the origin of the human body as coming from pre-existent and living matter" in his encyclical Humani generis.

So as a product of Catholic schools and Catholic thought, I find it incredible that 200 years later, Darwin is still controversial. Or that we're still debating evolution in our legislatures and our school boards. In the 21st century no less. TRUTH has never had anything to fear from truth.

So tomorrow I'll be celebrating Thursday of the 5th Week of Ordinary time. And the birthday of Charles Darwin. And my ancient ancestors the apes. And a God of incredible wonder and creativity and love.

Indulge me

The New York Times' most emailed article today is on the return of indulgences. I know because of the 300 people who forwarded it to me. And rather than hit reply 300 times, let me just say it here. No, I cannot sell you any indulgences.

The Times seems to think that no one under 50 would have a clue what an indulgence is. They forget that a lot of people under 50 saw the movie Dogma. However unless you're a fallen angel trying to get back into heaven by getting a plenary indulgence at the cathedral in Newark, you may not have thought much about them. But they're back. Or more properly, they never went away.

The basic concept of the indulgence is that for the wrong of sin, there must be a just punishment. For instance, you may carelessly shoot off some fireworks and burn down my brand new 34 story hotel. Afterwards you tell me you're sorry. So I forgive you. I may love you. But you still owe me a hotel.

An indulgence is a gift of grace given by the church to alleviate the just punishment that goes with sin. It helps pay for the hotel. So to speak. And just as your friends might chip in to help rebuild my hotel, we can offer our good works to help one another with the punishment due for sin. Because - and this is key - the church has faith that good is always more powerful than evil, and there is always far more good than the wrong done by sin.

There is a very good (and slightly more serious) explanation, citing the catechism among other authorities, at Wikipedia. An even more thorough, though harder to read, explanation is in the Catholic Encyclopedia.

It might be good to study up. Just in case your Lutheran friends are reading the New York Times too. And writing up a few theses to tack on your door tomorrow morning.

And the wisdom to know the difference

With Obamamania sweeping the US, you expect to see the new president's face on the cover of everything from Newsweek to Fly Fishing Weekly, but the cover of one of the most prominent and traditional Catholic magazines in the world might seem a stretch. Yet there he and the first family are, on the cover 30Giorni, which is probably read by more bishops than any other magazine. They share the space with Reinhold Niebuhr, who is a little less recognizable, unless you happen to be a student of modern theologians. Yet I bet it wouldn't take you very long at all to find someone who could quote his work from memory. Maybe you could even quote him yourself:

"God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference."

That famous prayer is a small window into a theological view of the world of which Niebuhr was considered a great master. His views on "realism" in the world of politics are based in St. Augustine's "City of God," and are also shared by the Vatican in it's diplomatic views, and apparently Barack Obabama.

While the church has some obvious and very deep difficulties with Obama's views (his support for abortion rights and capital punishment, to name two) there is apparently more hope for his views on international relations and the place of the United States in the world. Obama cites a number of religious writers among his deep influences, among them Dorothy Day and Reinhold Niebuhr. It is the Niebuhr connection that is the subject of the article in 30Giorni.

Lest you think I am much more well-read than I am, not to mention fluent in Italian, I picked up on this from the English-language, Vatican-watching blog www.chiesa, which ran an English translation of the article a few days ago. (The most recent English-language edition of 30Giorni is last November's. As one who perpetually runs late, I'll refrain from comments about the 3-month time lag.) It's an interesting read to get a better idea of how the church looks at the interface of politics and faith, how our new president might as well, and what that might mean for cooperation over the next few years.

So brew up some espresso and think deep thoughts.

Chow.

iPhone: sign of the Kingdom

I've become an iPhone snob. And not just because I can change it into a lightsaber for my nieces and nephews, or drink virtual beer from it. It's because I'm getting used to having the sum total of human knowledge in my pocket at any given moment. And if you have an iPhone, or even just a Blackberry, you know that's not a joke.

Which is why I've been pondering the milestone we probably crossed on January 1 without even noticing. According to the United Nations International Telecommunications Union the number of cell phone subscribers was supposed to hit the 4 billion mark then. That works out to about one cell phone for every 1.7 people on the planet. Last year there were 3 billion. Those Who Understand Such Things (i.e. the Washington Post) say that it is the fastest spreading technology in human history. Faster than fire. Or pointy sticks. Or poking a hole in the ground and dropping a seed in to grow stuff.

So what happens when virtually every human being on the planet is carrying the sum total of human knowledge in their pocket? And an instant connection to every other human being?

Seriously.

It's coming. And not even in a generation. Maybe next year. Or the year after.

This isn't about the technology anymore. It's about who we become. Try to imagine how pointy sticks changed how we thought about ourselves. Or how farming changed how we thought about the world. It's like that. Only it's happening in 5 years, not 5 thousand.

What is Christianity in a world where everyone is literally interconnected? How do we live it? How do we preach it? And I have a feeling those are just the beginnings of the questions. And maybe not even the most important.

It seems that humanity is going through a change like very few in all of human history. And we're not really paying attention. We need to do some serious pondering about this one.

Seriously.

Fr. Lou goes to Washington

My brother and I went to the National Archives today. Since George W has mostly packed and left town we joked we were going to check to make sure the Constitution was still there. But for all my Kingdom of God internationalism, I still love our history, I savored every moment of HBO's "John Adams," and I wanted to see with my own eyes the words of the oath that Barack Obama will take on the steps of the Capital on Tuesday, written by the hand that copied them from the notes of the Constitutional Convention for all posterity. The Archives guard who was managing the line was very cheerful and African American. As in he had a thick Ugandan accent. It somehow couldn't have been more appropriate.

My brother has lived in DC through both Clinton inaugurations and both of George W's. He says none of those came close to how the city feels right now. I'm sensing it goes far beyond the Washington DC metropolitan area. The NY Times/ CBS poll that came out yesterday shows a sense of optimism that crosses parties, classes and regions. With the world in the state it's in no less.

I'm wondering if maybe we haven't gotten to a place where a lot of us are realizing that we kind of like this America where the house next door to where you grew up can be a home for an Indian family with a dog named George. Even in Louisville, Kentucky. And maybe a lot more of us - especially those younger than me- are wondering why it should ever have been a big deal for a Ugandan to be guarding the Constitution. Or for a Kenyan/Kansan/Hawaiian to be president.

Maybe deep within us somewhere there's something that's realized that focusing on what separates us is exhausting. And we're tired. And maybe if that's all that's shifting right now, it will be enough. Enough reason for a party at least.

"From many, one," it says in Latin on our money.

"That they all may be one," Jesus prayed as his last prayer in the gospel of John.

Maybe, for a few days at least, what I'm hearing is a sigh from deep within this grand, glorious, sea to shining sea mess that is America, "Amen!"

Protestant vs Catholic

I have a new theory that came to me during mass this morning. which means it's probably divinely inspired. If I had time, I'd write a book about it and then get famous and go on the Daily Show. Or find out that somebody else has already written a book about it and get sued for plagiarism.

Anyway, my theory is this: that the political divide in the US goes back to a difference in religious world views. Allow me to caricaturize:

The Protestant movement (especially in the US) has tended to be more congregation based, with fairly loose state and national structures. Coming from a reaction to the centralization and heirarchical structure of Roman Catholicism, it tends to mistrust large institutions and emphasize individual responsibility. Especially in the more Evangelical strains of Protestantism where faith becomes almost purely a personal relationship with Jesus. This plays out in the political arena as a mistrust of "big government" and a view that it is not government's role to "save people."

Catholicism, on the other hand, places a great emphasis on the institution as the embodiment of God's kingdom (although not its fulfillment) and faith is about an individual's relationship with Christ as part of a globally connected community. This plays out in the political arena as a view that government and other societal institutions have a major role in shaping society into something like the ideal kingdom that Jesus preached.

To me, this question about the basic role of government is at the root of the divide in our country. And wouldn't you know it's a religious war all over again.

Only a brief sketch.
Talk amongst yourselves.

Little Ways, Little Flowers

Today is the feast of St. Theresa of Lisieux (known as the "Little Flower"), one of only three women to be named a doctor of the church, and the only person to be named one who lived in modern times. (The late 1800's was covered in the "contemporary church history" course at my university in Belgium.) I confess, in spite of her popularity (second only to St. Francis of Assisi in all the church popularity polls) she's never been one of my faves. Probably because I grew up seeing her in sappy holy card pictures. When you see an actual photograph, she looks a little more down-to-earth.

Anyway, my mom's mom liked her. A lot. She used to write to her sister, Marie. (Theresa died at 24. Her sister Marie, who was a nun at the same convent, lived to be fairly old.) I remembered mom had one of Marie's letters, and I thought it would make a nice show-and-tell for mass with the primary school kids today. I'll use any trick I can to keep 7-year-olds paying attention.

So we went looking for it yesterday. I could see it in my mind from when I was a kid. It was in very precise handwriting (Marie was a nun after all) in that distinctive European style of handwriting. It was in French, which I couldn't read as a kid, so it was even more mysterious. And mom kept it in a stationery box covered in brown leather with gold embossing on the lid along with some old Christmas cards and other mementos. We didn't find it.

But I found a box of my dad's. I remembered it exactly too, along with the drawer that they both USED to be kept in. Dad's was a tin candy box from the 1940's, when he'd been in the army. I hadn't opened it in years. In it I found two carefully preserved train tickets from Louisville to a port in New Jersey and back, a meal card for the base where he served in Germany along with some photos and two old wrist watches. I thought of the ticket for a flight to Brussels and my Belgian identity card and drivers license in a box at my apartment. And I wished that I could still talk to him about this new way that I'd discovered we were similar.

Theresa's "Little Way" can seem sappy. Especially since she wrote in the late 1800's when the style of religious writing was pretty sappy to start with. But then anybody's little ways of experiencing love or God can seem pretty sappy and trite. From the outside. I'm glad I went looking for that letter. I'm glad mom and I got to spend some time being frustrated. And some time remembering. Glad for the little ways.