The alarm clock used to wake me wickedly early on Tuesday mornings when I lived in Seattle. That day each week I met with a small group of men at 6 a.m. We attended a Cursillo Retreat together, and the weekly meetings (called reunions) were part of the Cursillo movement. We ate breakfast provided by the host at their home. We talked about our week. We shared one way we experienced the Lord moving in our lives the last seven days. We prayed. We bonded. We departed. The routine was simple and meaningful.
Our commitment and fraternity forced us to grow. I never looked forward to the alarm on Tuesdays, but I knew it was for my spiritual good. Small groups effect change in us, in our habits and lives. We need the encouragement, the support, the challenge, the commiseration, the celebration. Do you have a group? I'm looking for one since I moved to Boise. Let's find one together as part of our journey this season--and not just passively thinking about a group but actively seeking out people that make us better versions of ourselves.
Voracious reading is nearly impossible for me. My eyes get heavy after a little while even if I'm not tired. I want a bigger appetite for books, but practically I just don't fly through things like some people. However, I received Rebuilt in the mail yesterday and have either had it in hand or been thinking about it most of the last 24 hours.
The story is of a priest and staff member assigned to a diminishing parish in Baltimore who refused to maintain a failing ministry. They put forth all sorts of effort to a consumer-driven constituency only to find frustration. Attendance waned. Participation was limited. Giving--both monetary and personally--remained disappointingly low.
Only a complete overhaul of the culture would do, and many people comfortable with the way things were became increasingly and vocally upset. The comfortable were afflicted, and the afflicted (those on the outskirts or not affiliated with the parish) suddenly showed up and became comfortable in the new environment.
Their ideas are not revolutionary, just counter-cultural. They don't pander; they don't aim to please. Instead, they ask what the Lord wants of them. They look at churches that have what they desire, most of which are not Catholic. They flip the emphasis. They spend money differently. They spend time differently. They are authentic. People take notice.
I'm not far into the story, but I'm intrigued. The genius of Catholicism needs sharing. This is one instance of people undertaking evangelization in life-giving and life-changing ways. I long to see the results they saw--new parishioners, new life, new commitment, new gifts, and new eyes with which to grasp God's loving gift. As much as their story is about two individuals doing exceptional work, even more it is about the Holy Spirit's presence and power driving change and growth. We all should hope for a similar surge.
Mount Angel's basketball team got some serious press this week with a full-length article on Sports Illustrated's website, and the writer impressed me with the depth of research and quality of work. She captured the culture of seminary and the personality of the seminarians. Read up!
MT. ANGEL, Ore.—Alex Woelkers sighed and held out his hands in a what else can you do? shrug. The second-year college coach was talking about his team’s struggles and how this season hasn’t gone as planned. It’s a rebuilding year for the Guardians, partially because they didn’t get any prized newcomers. Selling their program is tough. Other college coaches complain about competing against cheaters and wooing AAU coaches. The Guardians have bigger problems.
“Celibacy,” Woelkers sighs, “is not the best recruiting tool.”
Monks, Friars and priests-in-training call Mt. Angel Abbey home. Fifteen of them, aged 18-38, comprise the Guardians, a seminary and monastery college basketball team that fits into no real division. Boasting a 2-8 record and playing their final game Tuesday night in the third annual Rose City Classic at Multnomah University, they compete against local NAIA Division II junior varsity teams and junior college squads. They already know what you’re thinking: Robes, vows of silence and generally unathletic men.
“Everything we’re doing, I hope it’s breaking down stereotypes and helping people find the human being in us,” says Matthias Lambrecht, a Carmelite Friar in his fifth year who is sitting out this season because of a nerve issue. “I think a lot about a quote from St. Francis of Assisi: ‘Go preach the gospel—and use words if necessary.’”
The Guardians have their quirks: After blowout losses, most college teams sulk through the handshake line. Mt. Angel players earnestly thank their competitors for teaching them humility. But they’re also not that different from other teams across the country. For the Guardians, basketball serves as a foundation of brotherhood, a way to build fraternity within their community. It’s hoops at a grassroots level, where they hope a ball and a court, no matter the quality of play, can become the space for life-changing conversations.
*****
“You’re tall—do you play basketball?”
It’s a question Stephen Cieslak has become used to, because 6’5” stands out, especially in a high school of just 250 people. But he didn’t expect to hear it during his admissions interview at Mt. Angel. Three years later, he is the star of the basketball team he hadn’t known existed.
I drove to Fruitland tonight with a teen and his mother for the Rite of the Elect with our new Bishop Peter Christensen. The evening allowed me a couple observations.
First, the Church and her people are built to receive and welcome people into the faith and into the family. The excitement of seeing these newly elect catechumens and candidates enter the final stages of their journey into full communion with Church was tempered by the realization that among the nine churches in our deanery only about 40 people are in this process currently. There is great joy in their welcome; there is immense potential to welcome more. As Catholics, outreach is vital. Evangelization is our primary mission. Let's get to it.
Second, I am wholly impressed by Bishop Peter and excited for the energy he is generating in our diocese. He preaches humbly and applicably. Every person he meets leaves the encounter with a story about how the bishop made him or her feel valued. Our priests, our diocese, our parish staffs, and all the faithful are experiencing an injection of enthusiasm and new vision, much of it stemming from Bishop Peter's arrival. He is evangelizing in a way we can emulate, and to see our shepherd take the lead in this vital task empowers me (and hopefully you) to go fearlessly into the deep waters of our world to become fishers of men, fishers of women, fishers of hearts burning for Christ and for the Church.
Today I want to share a blog post from a dear friend. Lorissa Horn was my youth minister long ago and continues in the adventure of forming teens today. She recently wrote a response to the film 50 Shades of Grey by using the life-giving experience of love she receives from her husband Johnny in contrast to the self-centered, life-taking sense of relationship portrayed in this book and movie.
Among the middle schoolers in the youth program at my parish are 50 teens preparing for First Communion. Among the high schoolers, 50 are preparing to receive the Sacrament of Confirmation. Some have been church attendees their entire lives. Some come to our teen gatherings far more often than they go to Mass. Some receive reinforcement of the Catholic faith from their parents. Some don't know who or what the Trinity is because the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit have never been mentioned in their homes.
This is the great challenge of teaching the faith. People come. People are hungry. People need what God is offering through the Church. To invite all the personalities and histories and interests and lives to the table of the Lord takes patience, individualization, passion, relentlessness, faith, hope, and most of all, love. I do not always possess the love or the vision that I could, but like every human being, God uses what I give and stretches me to give more, to give differently, to give freely.
May the seed fall on hearts eager for the harvest.
Lent began with ashes and fasting on Wednesday. It's Friday, and I've decided to blog each day during this season as one of my disciplines. Four months after my last post, I won't dwell on my neglect of this space, but I promise to write something, even if it's brief, each day of Lent. This endeavor is for me, of course, but I hope it might be helpful for you too, reading wherever you are in life and in the world.
This morning I listened to a homily podcast from my favorite preaching priest, Fr. Mike Schmitz. He spoke about the need for incremental, small changes in Lent and in our lives. The British national cycling team showed the power of small changes when they tried to up their performance levels by one percent in a number of measurable areas in an effort to win the Tour de France. One percent. That's what it took for them to capture the team championship in just two years, something they had never accomplished before. A change in training of one percent.
Can we give one percent more today? This Lent? This year?
It might seem an odd transition to talk about new atheism here, but I see a connection between the incremental changes Fr. Mike proposes and the moral laziness of dismissing religion and spirituality as irrelevant and unworthy of our time. I'll just say it--new atheism is moral laziness. When someone knows Jesus, her or his life changes. Most days, the change is one percent or less. It is incremental. It is almost indiscernible at times, but the change must occur because Christ does not let us stand pat when we honestly engage Him. When someone knows and loves Jesus, knows the Church, and begins to see Christ in the sacraments, in people (those loved and those "unlovable"), in daily miracles, in simplicity, life will never be the same.
Mostly our world doesn't want us to change. We are encouraged to consume, to take what we want, to satisfy our cravings, to seek instant gratification, to grab what is ours, and to come back for more. This applies to products, relationships, possessions, and sex. The easy answer is to dismiss the longing of our souls for meaning that only comes when our lives and priorities change. Change is difficult and incremental. Not to change is to be dead inside and to be lazy.
New atheism doesn't want to change. It wants to embrace the world fully because that embrace is easy and comfortable. New atheism clouds the mind with clever arguments, but it does not satisfy the soul. New atheism overlooks many wonderful fruits of faithful living.
The school system, hospitals, soup kitchens, cathedrals, and the unfailing recognition of the dignity in each human person came about from faithful people living out the vision of God's love. This truth cannot be overlooked. New atheists will point to the wars, division, and evils cultivated by people in the name of religion, and I cannot deny much evil has been bred by people. But so much undeniable good has come from people and religion also. People are good but fallen, and so is everything we do, including our religion. I will not stop hoping because we have gotten off course so often and in so many ways.
Most often, change does not miraculously capture us. Rather, change occurs in increments. Change demands days of one percent better. One percent. I can do that. You can too. Do one percent for 40 days, and we're talking increments accumulating to transformation. What form will your one percent change take this Lent? Let's begin a journey together.
