Friday, September 7, 2012

Friday of the Twenty-second Week of Ordinary Time


Thus should one regard us: as servants of Christ and stewards of the mysteries of God.

That seems as good a definition of priesthood as any I have found. It’s short and succinct. While every Christian is a servant of Christ, “stewards of the mysteries” describes especially the ministry of priest within the church.
The “mysteries” belong to all of us, the whole Church; but stewards of every sort, religious and profane, are sometimes given to possessiveness. The maintenance man thinks he owns the keys to every lock and door in the building, and the building itself. The treasurer guards the money as if it’s his own. The secretary guards the files; and the cook, her kitchen. Likewise priests sometimes feel we own the Mass and can play with it.
I had a wonderful idea once as to how certain parts of the Mass should be rearranged. I sent a letter to the Pope and told him about it but, apparently, his reply was lost in the mail. Inevitably, I tried my arrangement a few times – it was only a minor adjustment -- until an older priest chewed me up one side and down the other. “It’s not your Mass!” he shouted, and he was absolutely right. We’ve been doing it that way – wrongly if you ask me -- for at least 1500 years; maybe it’s supposed to be that way. In any case, it’s not mine to change. I am no more than an administrator of the mysteries.
And a word about mysteries: Mystery is not a riddle or enigma; mystery is the encounter with One who looks at me with love and enormous authority. Within mystery I am the object and God is the subject; He chooses; I am chosen. He directs and I am directed. He blesses and I am blessed.
With our sacraments especially, we pay attention to the mysteries; the word appears often in our new translation. At the beginning of each Mass, for instance, the priest says, Brethren, let us acknowledge our sins and so prepare ourselves to celebrate the sacred mysteries. We have a similar rite at the beginning of every sacrament, be it baptism, confirmation or the anointing of the sick. As we enter the cloud of mystery we remember our profound sense of dis-ease and unworthiness. We would not go in there if God had not invited us.
Within that “cloud of unknowing” we meet God face to face. While we are there God is free to move within our hearts to heal, instruct, comfort and challenge. Oftentimes we hardly notice what he is doing because we’re hardly aware of what changes should be made. But, over the course of time, we notice we are more patient, more confident, more optimistic and wise. We understand things we did not understand before, like why it takes so long to surrender resentments and why healing must begin from the inside out.
I have noticed that I should not experiment with the Mass. I am only a steward, not its owner.
As a chaplain in the VA hospital, I might be expected to counsel Veterans and to be more engaged in their lives. But not every Veteran wants or needs that kind of personal attention; and, if chaplains always do that, priests don’t. I often administer Anointing of the Sick and Eucharist to patients who have told me no more than they want the sacrament. Ministers in small Protestant congregations are expected to know the personal story of each congregant. But as “stewards” of the mysteries, priests don’t always know what the sacraments are doing to those who participate. If you asked, “Why does that person come to Church?” or “How will this help?” I probably cannot tell you. For that matter, it’s none of my business. I am only a steward of the mystery; knowing how it affects others is “beyond my pay grade.”

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I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.

Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.

I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.

You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.