Joseph Stoutzenberger

What’s Missing without Women Priests?

by Joseph Stoutzenberger

Talking about confession with a Catholic woman recently, she mentioned that she hadn’t been to confession to a priest in quite a while. She then added, “If there were women priests, I would go to confession in a hot second.” She talked about going to confession a number of years ago during which she told the priest about some issues in her marriage. For one, she carried a burden of guilt over the use of artificial birth control. She discovered that this celibate man was clueless about her concerns. She now has women friends whom she confides in and with whom she can share intimate conversation. The Sacrament of Penance is more than a chat among friends and reassurances from soul mates. The priest in confession represents the God of forgiveness and love that we can celebrate in this formal setting.

However, the exchange with my woman friend led me to wonder: What is missing in Catholicism because there are no women priests? If women are excluded from being formal representatives of God’s love and forgiveness, is that a lack within the sacramental structure of the church? First, some history. For its initial four hundred years or so Christians did not “go to confession,” telling their sins to a priest-confessor. The practice began as part of monastic discipline in the Western church by Irish monks and in the East at about the same time in monasteries there. The practice spread from monasteries to non-monks, so priests started hearing the confessions of everyday Christians. Out of this informal practice developed the formal practice of private confession, recognized as an official sacrament at the Council of Trent in the sixteenth century. In the Middle Ages, church architecture began to include a screened setting so that women could confess to a priest on matters that might be embarrassing to the woman or her male confessor. Private confession behind a screen became both commonplace and, in some situations, required as a part of Catholic spiritual life.

On the matter of women priests, in the 1970s a number of prominent scripture scholars concluded that there is nothing in the bible that would preclude women from priesthood. The Episcopal Church officially recognized the practice in 1976, and most other Protestant churches have women ministers as well. The Catholic Church restricts priestly ordination to men, and in the Western church almost exclusively to celibate men. In the 1990s, Pope John Paul II said that not ordaining women is based on scripture and therefore he and the church could not change that practice.

In Catholicism, priesthood is not defined just by its function—officiating at liturgy and hearing confessions. A priest, like all sacraments, represents Christ. How is the loving God embodied in Christ present today? Jesus poured out his life for others. If you want to see a nourishing, life-giving embodiment of a loving God today, picture a mother breast-feeding her infant. Jesus said that he would be present “in the breaking of the bread.” A woman’s place may not be in the kitchen, but God’s place is. Today, both women and men serve in the godly work of serving others at a meal. When a child goes astray, a forgiving parent—mother or father, embodies the God that Jesus told us about in his Good Samaritan parable. Jesus the teacher lives on through women and men teachers. Actually, today in the US, eighty percent of elementary school teachers are women. Jesus was a healer. The city of St. Louis still honors the heroic Catholic sisters who played a vital role in caring for the sick during the devastating flu epidemic of 1918. Most people avoided the sick, but not so these heroic women. The world-famous Mayo Clinic in Minnesota was inspired by and sweated into existence by Catholic nuns. Many hospitals, clinics, and shelters were begun by sisters, carrying on the work of Jesus the healer, and the majority of nurses and healthcare workers are still women.

You get my point. A priest is called upon to be an alter Christus, another Christ. Women as well as men fulfill that role in an informal fashion. The church is clearly more Christlike through the contributions women make as healers, teachers, cooks and food servers, loving parents and friends. Wouldn’t the church and its people be enriched further if the sacramental power and aura that surrounds Catholic priesthood were extended to women as well as men?

Holiness and Hope in the Ordinary

A crowded train station filled with multi-ethnic commuters

by Joseph Stoutzenberger

Last week when my wife and I boarded a local train, a conductor greeted us with a big smile, saying, “Welcome to the 9:01 train to center city. Sit anywhere you like.” As the train began moving, I said to the conductor checking tickets and bundled up in winter clothes, “It’s supposed to warm up today.” She smiled and replied, “Sixty degrees by four o’clock. I can’t wait.”

A number of authors lately write about the holiness and hope we can find in the ordinary, in the everyday and commonplace, in encounters that we usually overlook or take for granted. My train experience was one moment in one train in one city on an earth that is a speck in the vast universe; but, stepping back, it felt like the divine cosmic force behind the workings of the universe were actually at work in this seemingly insignificant event. The two conductors were not just moving the train, they were moving the hearts and uplifting the spirits of the passengers getting on and getting off. Perhaps when Jesus told us, “God is love,” he had in mind the many kindnesses that people show one another, such as the cheerful exchange I had with two nameless train conductors.

Many contemporary theologians are coming to terms with insights from the Jesuit theologian and paleontologist Pierre Teilhard de Chardin and information coming from modern physicists who recognize that the universe began over thirteen billion years ago. A slow, evolutionary process led to planet earth and only recently to the life that distinguishes this lush, green planet. Growing out of less complex life forms is the human species. Teilhardians suggest that the spiritual core of human beings is not separate from humanity’s biological development but a wonderful expansion of the life force that has been growing and transforming over billions of years. That’s a challenging concept for Christians who are used to imagining that at some point when the human species arrived God zapped an immortal soul into the first of its kind, call them Adam and Eve, and that this spiritual quality has been handed down to humans ever since.

Whether or not we hold onto a more traditional theological understanding of human spirituality or the perspectives being put forth by these science-infused views on who and what we are as a species, one point of agreement exists: we are all interconnected. We are family. When Jesus said, “Love your enemy as yourself,” he was actually simply expressing what should be a natural response to the human condition. We have met the enemy, and they are us, as an early Earth Day poster proclaimed. To love them is to love ourselves. Teilhardians have added an important insight: we have evolved, and we continue to evolve. What we do today matters. We are helping to shape what it means to be human, one smile at a time or one nasty comment at a time. When Christians pray that God’s will be done, it’s meant to be a pact, a covenant, to which we commit ourselves. Our treatment of other people and of other creatures shapes the ongoing development of life on our planet and beyond. Either we work toward furthering God’s kingdom on earth or we don’t. No one is a bystander.

Some Philadelphia train conductors spend their Sundays praising God in church services. They leave church with a recommitment to be church in their everyday work. I for one am grateful for that. We are all in this together, and together we are shaping the future. We all participate in this universe-shaping project. His studies of the workings of the universe led Teilhard to urge us to “harness for God the energies of love.” It is, he reminds us, the slow work of God, but our only hope, one train ride at a time.

Strangers or Guests?

A group of diverse, smiling people standing in front of an American flag and the Statue of Liberty

by Joseph Stoutzenberger

A recent translator of Homer’s Odyssey points out that in classical Greek the word for “stranger,” xenos, also means “guest.” The two appellations cannot be separated. In that sea-faring culture, treating strangers as guests was a virtue of the highest order. Zeus himself, not a lesser god, is designated “protector of strangers.” The gods frowned upon inhospitality with a vengeance. The Odyssey itself contains many tales of welcoming on the one hand and refusal to observe proper gestures of hospitality on the other. In fact, in that culture a stranger is likely a god in disguise and should be treated as such. Odysseus, the hero of the epic poem, returns home in the guise of a beggar and is greeted warmly by a lowly swineherd but not so by men in high estate who wish him dead.

If you are familiar with the Bible, you know that hospitality was also important in Hebrew culture. Abraham welcomes three strangers who turn out to be messengers from God bringing him good news—His ninety-year-old wife was to have a son. Imagine how the entire biblical epic would be different if he had turned them away! There would have been no Isaac or Jacob or children of Israel, descendants of Jesus himself. The book of Genesis also tells how Lot welcomes strangers into his house, and when his fellow townspeople call for him to send them out so that they can molest them, Lot offers them his daughters instead. Such was the sacred duty of hospitality in that culture.

Where do we place hospitality in American culture today? Is the dominant viewpoint that people who come into our country guests, or merely strangers, and not welcome ones at that? Xenophobia means fear of strangers, typically accompanied by dislike of those who are not of one’s kind. There has been a strain of xenophobia running through American history, anti-immigrant sentiment despite the welcoming words below the Statue of Liberty. One large group that has been the target of anti-immigrant attitudes has been Catholics. Nativist Americans subjected Irish, Italian, Polish, and Slavic immigrants to discrimination from the mid-1800s to the mid-1900s. More recently, immigrants from largely Catholic Latin America and many immigrants from Africa are viewed as a threat to American culture and are not welcome by “America first” proponents. Some of those immigrants have come here following the legal procedures in place, but many have not. How should people in both categories be treated?

A group of diverse, multi-ethnic people standing with the Statue of Liberty in the background.

Pope Francis, and now Pope Leo XIV, have been strong advocates calling for compassion toward migrants. Throughout the world people are on the move, escaping violence, famine, climate change, and oppression in their native lands. European countries have seen a great influx of immigrants from Africa and the Middle East. The United States and Canada have seen immigrants pouring into their countries as well. Clearly there is a crisis, and no simple answers exist. Nonetheless, immigrants can be met with compassion or with cruelty. Some Americans look upon cruelty to immigrants as standing up for citizens who presumably are hurting because of the influx of non-citizens to the country. Many false narratives surround this perception. “Illegal immigrants commit crimes,” when in fact they are less likely to commit crime than citizens are. “They take jobs from Americans,” when in fact they often do jobs that few Americans would do or contribute to the welfare of all through working in highly-skilled professions. “They drain the system by attending schools and receiving government benefits,” when in fact immigrants, even undocumented ones, typically pay taxes and contribute to social security, Medicare, and unemployment insurance.

Is America diminished or enriched by its growing diversity of cultures? Do that Mexican restaurant and Korean bubble tea stand add to America’s food choices in delightful ways, offering alternatives to the typical American fast-food fare? Have doctors and other hospital workers from India, the Middle East, and Africa added to the nation’s healthcare system? It’s likely that even America First advocates are grateful for the migrant-picked fresh produce available to them and other benefits they receive from immigrants, even when they don’t realize it. Does celebrating Cinco de Mayo and St. Patty’s Day take away from celebrating July Fourth, or are they a celebration of the rich tapestry that is America?

There’s an underlying message from the ancient Greeks and Hebrews that applies: Always err on the side of love. When we do so, we are on God’s side. That message should apply to dealing with immigrants of all stripes, despite the challenges they pose. Read the Gospel of Matthew, chapter 25. If Jesus is to be believed, that family dressed in rags showing up at our border is an incarnation of God. In response to them, what would Jesus do?

Consolation vs. Social Justice

by Joseph Stoutzenberger

Recently a pastor in a North Carolina church was fired by his congregation for preaching too much about healthcare for those who are poor, equitable distribution of resources, climate change, and racial discrimination—issues of social justice. A member of the parish said, “We’re not against his message, but we want 80% consolation and 20% social justice.”

What is the message of Jesus—consolation or social justice? Plenty of gospel passages can be cited that highlight his message of consolation. He constantly tells us, “Do not be afraid.” “Your sins are forgiven.” “My peace I give you.” “Do not let your hearts be troubled.” On the other hand, in Matthew 25 Jesus tells us that following him means taking care of those who are in need—those who are hungry or thirsty or in prison. So, Jesus preached both consolation and social justice, comfort and challenge. What percentages of the two most accurately reflect his message? 80-20? 50-50?

Clearly, Jesus proclaimed both messages. A question is: Does emphasizing one message diminish the importance of the other? Does talk of justice support or dismiss words of comfort? Peruvian theologian Gustavo Gutierrez, the leading proponent of liberation theology in the 1960s and 70s, was criticized for equating Christianity with a social justice agenda similar to the Latin American Marxism of the time. His critics argued that Christianity is about other-world salvation, not this-world liberation. He countered that criticism by noting that people who are the poorest and victims of injustice are the ones crying out most loudly for words of consolation. Because their lives are filled with hardship and struggle, they want to know that a better life awaits them when their lives and those of their loved ones are cut short. They are also acutely aware of the impact that injustice and oppression have on their quality of life in this world. According to Gutierrez, they want Jesus to be both savior and liberator, consoler as well as a prophet standing up against injustice. They want food on the table for their children along with the hope that in the end all will be well.

In 2025, the first words of the newly elected Pope Leo XIV were, “Peace be with you.” It was a consoling message to begin his papacy. He then went on to talk about care for immigrants seeking a better life, not in the hereafter but here on earth. As someone who served as a bishop in Peru, he knows both parts of the Christian message. What did Jesus model in his life? For most of it he lived a quiet life, but after his encounter with a man named John the Baptist he changed his life. According to gospel accounts, he then spent forty days alone in a desert place, but for his remaining three years he went about preaching and healing. If God’s consolation and the promise that all will be well in the next life was all that he wanted, he would have stayed working at his humble jobs awaiting God’s salvation when he died. He didn’t do that. Instead, his public life was all about making life better for others on earth as it is in heaven, both here and now and in the hereafter. He preached consoling words, but he also challenged people to transform society so that those who are hungry, thirsty, and in prison can have a better life.

The North Carolina parishioner understood that Jesus challenged people to work for justice, but she wanted much more consolation than she was hearing from her pastor. There’s no set recipe for how much each ingredient should be baked into the pie that is our life. The bishops of Vatican Council II claimed that hope for eternal life is actually a stimulus for acting on behalf of justice. It sparks the courage needed to get involved in concerns beyond our comfort zone. That consoling God Jesus talks about wants peace and prosperity for all and challenges us to help make it happen. He blends the two messages together in his command: love one another as I have loved you.

Are Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion Dirty Words?

A group of young, diverse students gathering outside

by Joseph Stoutzenberger

Twenty-five years ago, I chaired the accreditation process for a local university. One criterion that was scrutinized to determine if accreditation should be granted was whether or not the school had taken steps to address diversity, equity, and inclusion. Those qualities were considered positive characteristics for a university. Today, there are forces who view being attentive to those three initiatives as detrimental to a school and the country. What exactly are the concerns voiced by advocates of diversity, equity, and inclusion?

Thirty years ago, a black student confided to me that he felt uncomfortable in the exclusively white neighborhood surrounding campus, and that even on campus he felt like an outsider who was looked upon with suspicion. The university noted his concern, and others like them, and took steps to address the lack of diversity on campus. Admissions counselors were sent to predominantly black schools in recruitment visits instead of just to the predominantly white schools they were familiar with. A vice president for diversity was hired, who formed a new club that welcomed students from various cultures to share their experiences and introduce the school community to the diverse foods and customs of their homeland. Any concerns students had related to their gender, race, or sexual orientation now had a place to voice those concerns. Physical changes were introduced, making the campus more accessible to people with disabilities. Some rest rooms were designated gender-neutral so that transgender students would feel comfortable there. Like a number of teachers, I explored my course curricula to see if I might include lessons on women and people of color who were previously overlooked. At all levels steps were taken to create a campus atmosphere that was sensitive to diversity, equity, and inclusion.

There have been excesses stemming from DEI initiatives, but there have been excesses in the anti-DEI movement as well. Why have these three terms become dirty words in some circles lately? One concern being expressed is “reverse discrimination.” A majority group, white heterosexual men, is being discriminated against because preferences are being given to members of minority groups. There is the belief that the most qualified applicants for a job are not being hired and instead lesser qualified people are hired simply because of their minority status. DEI practices represent “identity politics,” a focus on differences rather than on treating everyone the same. Making accommodations for people because of their race, gender identity, or religious affiliation is discriminatory. There should be no recognition of differences among Jews, Muslims, Jehovah’s Witnesses, and Latter-Day Saints related to dietary restrictions, dress, and holiday celebrations. College acceptance and hiring should be based solely on objectively verifiable criteria.

Is something lost when diversity, equity, and inclusion are not seen as positive characteristics? For some students in the Philadelphia area, college is the first place where they are in class with people from various racial and ethnic backgrounds. Some students even find themselves in co-ed classes for the first time since grade school. All studies indicate that their education is enriched by the diversity they experience. The same is true when people from diverse backgrounds and different characteristics work together. Being attentive to DEI need not be discriminatory, and can in fact be the exact opposite. For instance, in 2024 three-quarters of people killed by police in America were black men. Doesn’t that statistic deserve attention to determine whether police practices are at times prejudicial? Empirical studies have shown that when job applicants with completely identical resumes except for their name—one likely black and the other likely white, the apparently white candidate more frequently gets interviewed. Is it possible to achieve diversity, recognized as a positive characteristic, without being discriminatory? Various universities and corporations have taken steps to achieve that goal, taking into consideration more subjective qualities such as life experience and background along with objective test scores in their hiring and student acceptance.

Despite claiming to be proponents of fairness and non-prejudicial policies, anti-DEI advocates are often blind to their own prejudices. The state of Texas mandating that the Ten Commandments must be placed in public schools and courtrooms is not called out for being discriminatory. Requiring people to use bathrooms according to the sexual identity assigned them at birth, as called for by anti-DEI advocates, overlooks the science that indicates that sex and gender are much more complex than their narrow view of it. God’s good creation is wonderfully diverse, as is America. A focus on unum without sensitivity to e pluribus impacts everyone negatively. Unity without diversity is not utopia, except among robots. Dealing with diversity, equity, and inclusion are not easy, but to overlook them whitewashes our colorful, complex reality.

The book of Jonah tells of a prophet directed by God to go to Nineveh to preach repentance. Jonah hated the people of Nineveh but reluctantly did as God commanded. He then went off to a hillside overlooking the city, hoping God would destroy its people, but he knew better because God is “a kind and merciful God who always shows love, even for foreigners.” God’s vision is much more inclusive than Jonah’s and many anti-DEI proponents. In God’s eyes, diversity, difference, and nuance are to be cherished and cultivated and at their best make America a multi-colored tapestry that all can delight in and benefit from.

Rest Stop Wisdom

by Joseph Stoutzenberger

At a rest stop along a Maryland highway I saw pasted on a bathroom stall a sticker that read: “You Are Loved.” I appreciated that some group went to the trouble to post its message there, and I have no doubt that they actually mean it. I understand that in women’s bathrooms a sticker is often found that reads: “If you are a victim of domestic abuse, call this hotline.” Again, it’s a message showing that some people care for others, even strangers, and that people in need are not alone. I started to think of other brief messages that could be posted in these sanctuaries of the highways. “Be Kind.” “You are not alone.” “God rides with you.” “Choose wisely.” Or the line seen in television commercials about Jesus lately: “He gets us.” Or a Japanese haiku to get us to ponder the choices we make: “Even among insects—some can sing, some can’t.”

Many of the world’s great books have a journey theme: Odyssey, Aeneid, Exodus in the bible, Dante’s Divine Comedy, Canterbury Tales, and Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn come to mind. Then there are films such as “Sullivan’s Travels” and “Easy Rider,” about encounters while traversing the country, and songs such as “Woodstock,” about walking along the road to the promised land. I was pleased to see a Gideon’s bible in a drawer in the Virginia hotel I stayed in recently. It is one more gesture of reaching out and demonstrating care for strangers, a group offering a book filled with stories spanning creation of the world to its final destination. As we travel our own journey through life, we need all the wisdom we can find, and we need all the help we can get.

Early Christians were called simply “followers of the way.” Jesus offered wisdom to help people along their way. One teaching, “Love one another,” is as basic as it gets; but it’s an essential message that should be posted on billboards and bathroom walls. For Christians, Jesus’s words “I go before you” offer hope when navigating the twists and turns all of us inevitably face. Jesus was a trailblazer in that journey. In another religious tradition, a woman, distraught with grief over her son’s death, asks Buddha what words of comfort he could offer in her misery. The Buddha told her to visit every home in her village, and when she found one that had not experienced sorrow, she should place a mustard seed in her hand. When her hand was filled, she should return to him and he would provide insight into her grief. Of course, after hearing tales of woe from every family in her environs, the woman still had no seeds in her hand, but she knew about the universality of suffering and learned compassion. Islam is also all about emulating the compassion of God, who is constantly called all-loving and all-merciful, in our interactions with fellow travelers along life’s highway.

Jesus’s early followers were awaiting the coming of God’s reign, and they committed to caring for one another as they made their way to their true home. Their journey, as well as ours, was unique. Which is not the same as saying that we travel alone. As bathroom stalls remind us that there are people out there who want to help, hopefully every church, mosque, synagogue, and temple has the same message. Certainly, Jesus bequeathed that message to those he called friends. We share our journey with everyone with whom we cross paths, as well as with all those we never meet. Someone picked those strawberries we enjoy, even though we never met them. What message are others sending our way? What is our message to them? “You are loved” is a good place to start.

Is Non-Violence Dead?

Peaceful Protesters of Many Races Holding American Flags

by Joseph Stoutzenberger

I spent my early adult years in what some at the time believed to be the “dawning of the age of Aquarius,” when peace would guide the planet, as the musical “Hair” proclaimed. Many young people in America and across the world believed that humanity was finally realizing the futility of war and would embrace non-violence as the only true path to peace and happiness. Left unchecked, wars would hasten humanity’s demise on the earth. The backdrop for Americans of my age was the Vietnam War. We saw guys we played basketball with whisked off to jungles far away, at times returning with physical injuries that kept them from ever playing the sport they loved ever again. Others came back with injuries that were not visible but that were no less debilitating. If they opened up at all, they often said they were haunted by the question, “Why did I survive and some of my buddies didn’t?” Inspired by Mahatma Gandhi, who mounted a nonviolent campaign to achieve Indian independence from Britain, and Martin Luther King, Jr., who used non-violence in creative ways to make strides toward ending racial discrimination in the U.S., we held out hope that alternatives to war existed. Gandhi called his approach satyagraha, “truth force” or “soul force.” Success in war was determined by military might, not by who had truth on their side. Gandhian non-violence was not weakness or passivity. It was based not on “might makes right” but on “right makes might.”

So much for the dawning of the age of Aquarius. In 2025 voices calling for embracing non-violence are being drowned out by bombs dropped from the sky over Ukraine and Gaza. Many other trouble spots are rife with people seeking success through violence without any thought that nonviolent methods might be more effective long term. Conflict is even smoldering in the tensions that exist within our own political and cultural landscape. Is Gandhi’s soul force still powerful enough to help people navigate their way through conflicts?

Step back for a moment and reflect on where Jesus stood on the question of violence versus non-violence. Each gospel tells about Jesus’s angry display in the temple area, when he took off his sash and waved it around to show his displeasure at the buying and selling he considered desecrating this sacred area. Was it an act of violence or nonviolent protest? We still debate where the line is drawn between the two. Protesting in front of a courthouse is one thing; chaining oneself to courthouse doors is another? Nonetheless, a number of prominent scripture scholars see Jesus’s message as one of non-violence–Walter Wink and John Dominic Crossan, for example. Jesus did not align himself with those in his Jewish community who espoused the use of violence to drive out the Romans. Generally speaking, early Christians understood Jesus’s message to be one of non-violence. That position eroded over time with Emperor Constantine and St. Augustine proposing that there is a place for justified violence.

WWI Soldiers Celebrating Holiday Together During the Ceasefire — ai art of soldiers standing in the snow generated by wordpress AI

Gandhi developed a number of principles and tactics for use in resolving conflicts nonviolently. One underlying principle is seeking to identify truths that both sides can agree on. No victory is lasting unless both sides agree on the results. That principle is difficult to put into practice when people on the other side of a conflict are demonized. An intriguing example of the light of non-violence shining in the darkness of violent conflict took place on Christmas Eve, 1914, during World War I. Trench warfare meant that soldiers on both sides were hunkered down in trenches within earshot of each other. This Christmas Eve some German soldiers lit candles on some evergreen trees and began singing carols that could be heard by the Scottish, British, and French troops on the other side of “no man’s land.” Allied soldiers began to sing carols as well. At one point, a German soldier ventured out of his trench and was not shot. Instead, soldiers on both sides came out and greeted one another, exchanging photos of loved ones and offering Christmas wishes. Some joined in a friendly soccer game. A famous German juggler, now in uniform, performed for the gathering. There was even time for a few haircuts. When generals on both sides got wind of what was happening, they commanded that there should never be fraternizing with the enemy for the remainder of the war. It’s hard to kill someone who just showed you pictures of his wife and children and with whom you just sang carols.

More recent examples of breaking down barriers can be cited. Israeli settlers on the West Bank live next to Palestinians, and yet they live completely separate lives. Some residents decided to create a space where members of both groups could meet and talk about their fears and hopes. An organization in Israel started a youth circus club and invited Jewish and non-Jewish teenagers to join. Mutual trust is needed when performing acrobatic acts. Young people might even become friends. During the height of Protestant-Catholic conflict in Northern Ireland, an organization sponsored sending children from both groups to summer camp in the U.S. For Gandhi, a first step toward resolving conflict is recognizing and experiencing the humanity of others. Conversations need to focus on common concerns, fears, and hopes before differences can be addressed. Killing must stop; talking must start. Not as enemies but as people seeking truth all can agree on. Not an easy task, but perhaps the dawning of the age of Aquarius after all.

Thomas the Pray-er

by Joseph Stoutzenberger

Looking back, I’d say I was a pious child. I was steeped in Catholic lore and took it seriously. The visual imagery of the Stations of the Cross moved me—such suffering by mother and grown son. I took Francis as my confirmation name, and it meant something to me. I had in mind Francis of Assisi, who as a young man gave up youthful revelry, embraced poverty, and found joy in it. For a number of years, every night I prayed what I understood to be the Prayer of St. Francis: “Make me an instrument of your peace.” I also prayed nightly the novena to St. Jude, patron of impossible cases. (I will leave unsaid what the “impossible case” was that I prayed for.) I developed a dangerous habit of briefly closing my eyes and saying a little prayer when I felt anxious—not a good habit when playing first base. When a classmate’s shoe came off during recess next to the church and went flying through a stained-glass window, only shattering the saint’s head, I felt it must have meant something on a deeper, spiritual level.

Perhaps this was typical of Catholic children as well as adults of the time, the 1950s. Perhaps it remains typical of children from all backgrounds who seem to be more at home in a world of enchantment. Perhaps for me it was actually more superstition than religion or authentic spirituality; after all, I also avoided stepping on cracks in the sidewalk for fear it would bring on bad luck. Perhaps the Catholic traditionalists who lament the changes in Catholicism after Vatican Council II have a point. The sense of mystery associated with Latin Mass, nuns in habits, and priests wearing cassocks and birettas (a clerical hat) as they patrolled church grounds has given way to a secularist mindset devoid of any sense of the holy. It’s fair to say that the Catholicism of my youth is not the Catholicism of today. I speak only for myself, but I seem to be not alone among Catholics and former Catholics in my age group. I grew out of the mindset of childlike piety and devotion, the way Jackie Paper stopped playing with Puff the Magic Dragon. After all, as the song says, dragons live forever, but not so little boys.

In a recent book on Catholicism, I wrote about prayer and devotions. I must admit that I felt like an outsider writing on the topic. It’s hard for me not to equate popular devotions with my childhood, not my adult self. I know that many Catholics still possess a sense of devotion and prayer; being attentive to the holy has not been erased by the forces of secularism. My wife has that gift. When she hears that someone we know is experiencing some difficulty, she says, “Let’s pray over it.” She might simply go to the basement and pray a rosary or look for a Mass to attend at a nearby church. She also finds solace in more contemporary expressions of prayer; she brings her sense of connection to the holy to whatever spiritual practices she engages in.

I don’t have that ease with devotional practices that help me actually experience the presence of God. I try to say a prayer when I hear about a friend in distress, but my mind soon jumps to questioning: “What exactly am I doing? Is this prayer?” Nothing quite brings me to what I felt as a child; perhaps that is asking too much and wouldn’t be a good thing anyway. What is an adult way to pray for us who don’t feel an uncomplicated, easy way to do so? At least to some extent, prayer implies letting go, getting out of our head, and setting aside our usual way of thinking. “Let go, let God” makes sense to me as an attitude of prayer, at least theoretically. Modern adulthood seems resistant to it. Catholics I know who have an authentic prayer life sense God’s presence in their lives and find that prayer helps them experience that presence all the more, especially in time of need.

Photo by Ou011fuzhan Karatau015f on Pexels.com

If prayer means a reverential attitude, then I do seek to cultivate prayer. I appreciate that certain places and practices help. The Fairmount section of Philadelphia is home to a convent of cloistered nuns, Sisters Servants of the Holy Spirit (affectionately known as the “pink sisters” because of the color of their habit). Their chapel is always open, and there is always at least one nun kneeling or sitting before the Blessed Sacrament. When I am near there, I like to stop in and just be in that presence. It exudes an aura of the holy with its silence and lack of busyness. It feels like a place where no words need to be said. After spending even a few moments there, everything feels different. Thank God and the good sisters for maintaining this space that does evoke prayerful reverence; no need to say anything or do anything, just be present. I know people who claim not to be religious who feel the same way while at the beach or on a wooded trail. Catholicism would be the richer if it celebrated that prayer can happen anywhere with the right attitude, and I sense that people who are “not religious” would benefit by connecting their experiences of deepened awareness to a religion such as Catholicism. What are they getting in touch with if not a divine presence?

My son recently sent me a brief video of his son who is on the CYO basketball team at his parish. Thomas is not a starter on the team, but during the prayer before the game he stood with hands folded and head bowed, looking very intense and pious. My son’s caption to me read, “Not the best basketball player, but a very good prayer.” At 6’6” I was never a bench warmer on the teams I played on, but I was thrilled to see my grandson succeeding at something more important. Hopefully during that fleeting moment of prayer, he senses that he, his teammates, and his family live in the embrace of a loving God who watches over them. I pray that this sense of reverence and awareness of the holy in our midst stays with him, even as he grows and sets aside the magic dragons of his youth.

What Became of Sin?

by Joseph Stoutzenberger

Vatican Council II did not address the question of sin, at least not directly. Nonetheless, Catholic discussion about sin changed dramatically after the Council. Prior to the Council, sin and sins were a major part of the Catholic message heard at church and in schools. A major focus of Catholic life was on not doing those actions deemed sinful, such as missing Mass on Sunday or eating meat on Friday. I recall during my freshman year at a Catholic co-ed high school when the boys were taken to a separate classroom to meet with a priest while the girls remained behind with the sister who taught religion. We knew that this week was going to be “sex talk” time. We were not told that our sexuality was a wonderful gift from God that needed to be treated thoughtfully and lovingly. Instead, we were told about all the sins associated with sex. I heard that “French kissing” was a mortal sin. I didn’t know what it was, but I knew it must be very pleasurable if it qualified as mortal sin. I heard that touching a girl’s private parts was a mortal sin and that touching her simi-private parts out of sexual desire or lust was a venial sin. I had a pretty good idea of what private parts were, but I wasn’t sure about what was semi-private—a knee? the neck? Allowing a girl to sit on your lap was a “near occasion of sin” to be avoided. Overall, the message that week was that sex was all about sin. Be aware of the snares of the devil; and a good rule of thumb the priest left us with was, “Don’t do anything you wouldn’t do in front of your mother.”

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In a recent interview with a group of Spanish-speaking young people, Pope Francis said that church teaching on sex is “still in diapers.” That may be true, but since the Council there have been many steps taken to separate sex from sin. The same is true of other areas of Catholic life. The central message about the use of speech had been, “Do not lie, slander, or bear false witness.” Even during the Council that emphasis changed. The focus became: we should use our powers of communication to speak up for justice and peace. “Thou shall not steal” is still a commandment, but more equitable distribution of the goods of the earth is now a message more regularly emanating from the Vatican and the US conference of bishops about possessions. Discussions are more likely to be about how to combat excessive materialism and preserving the environment than about not coveting your neighbor’s goods.

If Catholic teaching on sex is still in diapers, it’s fair to say that its teaching on sin in general is still in diapers. It is hard for Catholics to move beyond a simplistic “thou shalt not” mentality about sin. Perhaps that is why so few go to confession. How do we confess that we haven’t done as much as we could to welcome strangers in need to our community or help raise up people lacking adequate food and shelter? What does “sin” mean in light of Jesus’s message to “do more” than the law requires? Sin is still more closely associated with breaking a law than with making a positive difference in our families, our communities, and our world. Vatican Council II spent no time parsing the meaning of sin. It was more interested in how Catholics and the church can be a positive force in the modern world beset with so many challenges and so many opportunities. Before the Council, American Catholics were told to take note of how they could sin through their thoughts, words, deeds, or omissions. Catholics today are urged to gather together to figure out how they can make a difference through their thinking, speaking, actions, and resistance.

At the beginning of Mass, Catholics are still asked to call to mind their sins. What might most Catholics be thinking about during that brief pause? I’m guessing it is mostly about their overall shortcomings, the times they have not been all that they would like to be for their family or coworkers. They want to lay before the altar all their faults and misdeeds so that they can recite together, “Lord, have mercy,” before partaking of the shared meal with the one who takes away all the sins of the world. Participation in the Mass is no longer fulfilling an obligation done to avoid mortal sin but reassurance that God is with them as they seek to lead a good life and to make a difference through the life they live.

Married Priests?

by Joseph Stoutzenberger

I recently attended a seminary reunion. (Seminaries are schools designed to prepare men for priesthood.) A few of the men at the reunion had continued on to become priests and to serve in that capacity. Most attendees had left the seminary at some point, and of those the majority married, worked in some form of social service or education, and remained thoughtful, involved participants in Catholic life. Coincidentally, the first reading for the Mass of the day was about St. Peter. In the gospels, Peter is identified as a married man. If they followed the custom of their time, either all or most of the twelve apostles chosen by Jesus were married, as were the vast majority of disciples, men and women. Peter is never identified as a priest, but Catholicism considers him to be the first pope. No doubt he and most of the other early popes were married men. That reality raises the question whether the Catholic Church will ever return to this practice of the earliest days of Christianity and ordain married men as priests.

Vatican Council II in the 1960’s called for a reexamination of all aspects of Catholic life and practice. The Council set aside two topics that it said should be examined later as they required further study: artificial birth control and married priests. A commission was established to study the question of artificial birth control and submitted its report to the pope supporting the use of birth control. The pope at the time, Paul VI, was concerned that this position went against earlier church teachings and delayed making any public pronouncements on it for two years. He asked a few professors from a Roman seminary to draft a statement on the matter that would reflect earlier church reasoning on it. Three years after the close of the council and two years after his commission had submitted its recommendation to approve the use of birth control, Pope Paul issued an encyclical called Humanae vitae, which declared that “natural” forms of birth control are acceptable but that “artificial” birth control was unacceptable because it separated the procreative purpose of sex from the unitive purpose. Sex in marriage was to be both loving and open to the possibility of new life. Married couples who wanted to limit the number of children they had should learn the intricacies of “Natural Family Planning,” considered acceptable, and avoid what were labeled as artificial means of family planning, such as using the birth-control pills available beginning in the early 1960’s.

The question of married priests remains largely unchanged since the Council with a few exceptions. Celibacy, prohibiting marriage as a requirement of ordination to priesthood, remains standard policy in the Western church. It is a matter of church discipline. If he chose, the pope could reinstate the ancient practice of having married men serve as priests in the Western church. Eastern Catholic communions, such as Ukrainian Catholics, have always had married priests along with priests who followed the more monastic tradition of not marrying. Since the council, the Western Church has accepted married but duly-ordained Episcopalian and Lutheran priests who wish to join the Catholic Church to serve as priests and remain married. Some bishops in places where priests are scarce have been calling for married men to be ordained, such as in some parts of Latin America. They argue that the Eucharist is being denied thousands of people because of the lack of priests while many worthy married men could make the Eucharist available on a regular basis if they were ordained. They point out that the celibacy requirement is a matter of church law, not of dogma.

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Vatican Council II ushered in many changes to church discipline that are now accepted as standard practices, even though they were resisted by many people within the church when they were first proposed. Before the council, who would have predicted that the Sunday Mass obligation could be met on Saturday night, that there would be girls joining boys as altar servers, and that the language of the Mass would no longer be Latin? Few Catholics would have predicted that anyone other than the priest could touch the sacred Communion host. Now, lay Catholics receive Communion in their hands, distribute Communion at Mass, and bring Communion to those who can’t make it to Mass. One change that percolated awhile before being introduced was ordaining married men to serve as deacons. Catholics have come to accept and often appreciate that a deacon will preside at weddings and baptisms and preach at Mass. There is now also discussion in some church circles of ordaining women as deacons, a practice which some scholars find referenced in scripture itself.

Meanwhile, seminary reunions are being held at which men who lived together, studied together, and shared a love of service together gather. It is only when Mass begins that a few among them put on the priestly robes and serve in their official capacity as ordained priests. Meanwhile, Eucharistic deserts exist, where Mass is celebrated rarely, while good, holy men and women offer to serve God and others in whatever capacity the Church allows.