Fr. Christopher Phillips
Fr. Christopher G. Phillips is the pastor of Our Lady of the Atonement Catholic Church in San Antonio, Texas, where he has served for nearly twenty-seven years. He is the founding pastor of the first Anglican Use parish, erected in 1983 under the terms of the Pastoral Provision. Fr. Phillips was ordained as an Anglican for the Diocese of Bristol, England, in 1975. After serving as Curate for three years at St. Stephen Southmead, he returned to the United States and served in two Episcopal parishes in the Diocese of Rhode Island. In 1981 he left the Episcopal Church and moved with his family to Texas, where he was subsequently ordained as a Catholic priest in 1983. Fr. Phillips and his wife, JoAnn, have been married for nearly forty years. They have five children and one grandchild.
Homepage: http://atonementparish.blogspot.com/
Posts by Fr. Christopher Phillips
A Few Thoughts, A Week Later
Mar 11th
Other than a few random comments, lately I’ve been pretty quiet on the blog. It’s not for lack of interest – more like a lack of hours in the day. This week started the students’ Lenten confessions, and I’ve managed to hear about seventy-five confessions over the past few days, with lots more to come. I have a rare free evening, so I thought I’d cobble together a brief posting, just to keep my hand in.
It’s been a week since the bishops’ meeting in Orlando, and I’ve had some time to think about what took place there. First, I have to say how gracious the bishops were in their welcome to me. I arrived as an outsider, but it didn’t take long for that feeling to dissipate. I had no doubt I was with brothers in Christ. I have to say, I thoroughly enjoyed the few days we had together. Worshipping in the lovely Cathedral of the Incarnation was a treat. It’s such a gracious community, and the hospitality typified what is surely part of our patrimony.
For me, the best fruit produced by the meeting was the unanimous request from the bishops for the implementation of Anglicanorum coetibus. This was an authentic expression of collegiality, especially since a few of the bishops have sincere questions about it. We were all clear in our understanding that the unanimous request didn’t commit anyone to unanimous action, but the genuine charity exhibited by everyone agreeing to join in the request, I found to be quite magnificent.
A very clear press release was issued – and, of course, the media rode off as though on wild horses, and got much of it wrong. But that can be repaired. In fact, there will be an opportunity to clarify things in a more careful way tomorrow evening at 8:00 p.m. (Eastern), when I’ll be Raymond Arroyo’s guest on EWTN’s The World Over Live. It’s always a risk to speak in such a public forum, but Raymond is an insightful interviewer, and has a genuine understanding of the consequential nature of this historic decision by the Holy Father.
I have to admit, I’m eager for the establishment of an Ordinariate if only to be able to nurture the fraternal spirit I encountered in Orlando! Is that selfish of me?
Becoming a Family
Mar 3rd
Just a few hours ago I returned from meeting with the members of the House of Bishops, Anglican Church in America. I thoroughly enjoyed getting to know them, and we spoke extensively about the implementation of the Holy Father’s Apostolic Constitution, Anglicanorum coetibus. It was immediately evident that our common hope should become a common effort, and so the request being made to the Congregation of the Doctrine of the Faith is a joint request.
Of course, our situation in the Anglican Use is somewhat different from that of the ACA. Our clergy and parishes are ready to act immediately because we are already in communion with the Holy See, whereas the Anglican bishops have a process to follow to reach that point with their parishes. For some of them, it will happen quickly; for others it will take longer. But we all agreed that having an Ordinariate “up and running” will allow them to enter it when each one is ready.
Entering into this closer relationship between the ACA and the Anglican Use parishes is a welcome gift from God. We’ve needed to get know one another as we prepare to become a “blended family” in the Ordinariate. I’m looking forward to having more occasions to be together. And let’s all pray for the speedy implementation of Anglicanorum coetibus.
A Matter of Property
Feb 27th
When the possibility of becoming part of an Ordinariate became a reality, like many others we had questions about some of the more practical issues, especially matters relating to property. Our Lady of the Atonement Church was founded nearly twenty-seven years ago, and when we were received into the Church the parish had very little property at all – just a modest rectory where my family and I were living. It had very little value, perhaps thirty thousand dollars or so. Nonetheless, it was listed with the archdiocese as our parish property, and the archbishop’s name went on the legal documents. Over the years the assets of the parish have steadily increased, and now our total property is listed at something over 23 million dollars, all with the Archbishop of San Antonio listed as the “owner,” but canonically the property of Our Lady of the Atonement Parish. Was there going to be any problem in having our property and parish assets transferred to an Ordinariate? I spoke to our archbishop, and he left no question whatsoever about his cooperation in doing whatever is necessary in both civil and canon law to complete the transfer when the time comes.
This did raise the question of property in my own mind, however. There will no doubt be parishes and communities becoming part of an Ordinariate, and they may have questions about the status of their property after they become Catholics. I asked Charles Wilson of the St. Joseph Foundation for a synopsis of the Church’s canon law, when it comes to this issue. He wrote me the following letter, which should be of interest to many who are preparing to act on the Holy Father’s offer in Anglicanorum coetibus.
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The Saint Joseph Foundation
11107 Wurzbach, Suite 601B
San Antonio, Texas 78230-2570
(210) 697‑0717 (Voice)
(210) 699-9439 (FAX)
cwilson@st-joseph-foundation.org
Charles M. Wilson
Executive Director
February 26, 2010
Rev. Christopher G. Phillips
Our Lady of the Atonement Catholic Church
15415 Red Robin Road
San Antonio, Texas 78255
Dear Father Phillips:
I write in response to some questions that have been asked about the status of property now owned by groups of Anglicans or former Anglicans and how that status might change if the groups should come under the jurisdiction of a personal ordinariate erected according to the norms of the Apostolic Constitution, Anglicanorum coetibus (AC).
When the Apostolic Constitution and Complementary Norms (CN) were released on November 10, 2009, the first questions asked of the Saint Joseph Foundation came from members of existing Anglican Use Catholic parishes. The primary interest was whether these parishes would be part of a new personal ordinariate and whether their members, even those not of Anglican background, would be able to remain as such. Now we are hearing from current and former Anglicans who wish to be received into the Church; and a special concern among those who are part of local communities that own property is to insure that they maintain control over its disposition. I understand that some have even expressed fear that their property could be sold by the diocesan bishop to satisfy obligations arising from abusive conduct by Catholic clergy. Such a concern is certainly understandable; but we need to recognize some canonical barriers that would significantly reduce the chances of such an injustice actually taking place.
As we know, neither AC nor CN have anything to say about parish property. This is not surprising because secular law on religious property varies from country to country and from state to state in the United States. The authorities in Rome apparently foresee that detailed norms will be contained in the particular law of each ordinariate. And because no personal ordinariates have been erected, there is no such legislation to which we can refer. However, existing law does contain restrictions on the practice of selling the assets of a diocesan parish for any purpose other than for the benefit of that parish; and I am confident that these restrictions, as well as other norms on temporal goods will be reflected in the laws of future personal ordinariates.
We must acknowledge that, in the wake of the clergy sexual misconduct scandal, some diocesan bishops did indeed sell parish property in order to pay damages or settle with accusers before lawsuits were filed. Some bishops have used this opportunity to merge parishes, close an existing church edifice, and sell it for diocesan profit. In similar scenarios, some bishops have simply told a pastor that a piece of property owned by the parish (a convent, school, house, etc.) would be sold and the money used by the diocese; but I would view such acts as blatantly unlawful. While a bishop may hold civil title parish property and is free to dispose of it according to secular laws, he does not own it under canon law. A parish is a separate juridic person and it owns patrimony distinct from the diocese. The pastor is the proper administrator, and his obligations are those of a steward (cf: canon 1284, §1).
In a decision made in 2006, the Congregation for Clergy (prot. no. 2006/0481) provided some much appreciated clarification of key points about parish and parish patrimony. First, the Congregation makes it absolutely clear that when we speak of a parish, we are speaking about people and not a “thing.” Quoting from canons 369 and 515, a parish is recognized as a community of God’s faithful. The letter goes on to note, “While the parish church and the parish physical plant may be closed, and the name of a particular parish extinguished, the spiritual needs of the portion of the Faithful which once constituted that parish must continue to be provided for in accord with their rights in law.” With this in mind, the Congregation clearly notes that the assets of a parish MUST be used for the sake of the people who constitute that parish. And, if the parish is merged with another parish, the assets must be given to the parish or parishes that now provide pastoral care of the faithful who previously made up the extinguished parish. In other words, a diocese cannot close a parish and keep its assets. An exception, which would not apply to parishes of personal ordinariates, can be made for personal parishes erected to serve a certain ethnic or national group in cases where that group has become dispersed.
The legal points and argumentation found in the Congregation’s letter are very similar to those used by the St. Joseph Foundation in previous cases that predate the clergy sexual abuse crisis. As those who have challenged a bishop’s decree of parish suppression know, the chance of winning such cases is very low. However, it is refreshing to see the expressed intentions of the Holy See on this point. If we apply the principles, we must accept the fact that the assets of a parish are held in trust under canon for the good of the parishioners. In recent cases from New England, the Vatican has revoked decrees issued by bishops who sought to dispose of parish assets to benefit their dioceses. In practice, parish assets can no longer be viewed as a source of funds to satisfy diocesan obligations and I believe that the same rule would probably apply to the ordinary of an “Anglican Use” ordinariate.
The possibility of a diocesan bishop attempting to sell the assets of the parish of a personal ordinariate that happened to be located in his diocese has also been mentioned. My opinion is that such an act would be ultra vires and that a bishop would not be able to do it any more than he could sell the assets of a parish in a neighboring diocese.
One remaining question concerns how parishes are structured according to civil law. (As you know, I am not an attorney and claim no expertise in the field of bankruptcy law. Moreover, the Foundation does not provide legal services, even though some of our staff and consulting canonists are civil as well as canon lawyers; so whatever I say here is not to be taken as legal advice.) While parishes and dioceses are separate entities according to canon law, this is not always true in secular law. Over time, in the United States dioceses and parishes have been structured under state law in several ways. This remains true today and, for the purposes of this discussion, these structures fall into two broad categories. The first is known as the corporation sole, with a single civil corporation with the diocesan bishop as its sole “member” holding civil title to all the property of the canonically separate parishes. The other is called the corporation aggregate, which follows the pattern of canon law more closely. Each parish is a separate corporation, usually controlled by five trustees: the bishop, the vicar general, the pastor and two lay trustees chosen by the first three. If ordinariate parishes were structured in a similar way, the articles of incorporation or by laws might include a requirement that the dissolution of the corporation or the sale of any real property would require a unanimous vote of the trustees. I believe that this would probably be consistent with canon law. The details of the canonical and civil structures will, of course be decided by the competent ecclesiastical authorities with the assistance of canonical and civil counsel.
The preceding observations should be regarded as personal opinion. Please let me know if you have any questions or need further assistance.
Sincerely,
Charles M. Wilson
An Informal Report
Feb 27th
I keep in touch with one of my classmates from the years when we were studying together at the Salisbury and Wells Theological College. He’s the rector of a Forward in Faith parish, under the pastoral care of the Bishop of Ebbsfleet. After the recent Day of Prayer on the Feast of the Chair of St. Peter, I wrote and asked him how it went. He wrote back, in part:
I’ve just returned from the Bishop’s Council of priests (Traditionalists) where the atmosphere was quite upbeat at times, whilst at others cautious. There are, of course, problems peculiar to the church in England, and we recognise that the offer from the Holy Father more easily fits the American scene. Having said that, a number of the brethren are ready to begin the journey. Any worry about ordination seems to have evaporated, but practical and financial considerations still need some clarification.
Personally my current situation leaves me in a quandry, so that at present I intend to put all the options to my folk, whilst riding out the waves until retirement doesn’t necessitate abandoning some of the flock who will, inevitably, stay with Auntie.
As to the general mood in the Cof E who knows. I am sure that the vociferous nature of the Synod is not the universal feeling, but their actions will determine our future.
No earth-shaking developments, but I thought it was an interesting glimpse into the present situation there. My friend is probably pretty typical of many of the clergy who are in their late fifties and early sixties – they’ll try to “ride it out” until retirement, taking care of their parishioners as best as they can, while at the same time encouraging those who want to become part of an Ordinariate. It’s another indication to me that the beginnings will be small and slow.
I did find it interesting, however, when he made the point that “any worry about ordination seems to have evaporated, but practical and financial considerations will need some clarification.” I was apprehensive that the issue of ordination would be the biggest sticking point, and it’s encouraging to learn that apparently it’s not. I’m not so worried about the practical and financial matters. Those of us in the Anglican Use have found that those things can usually be solved without too much difficulty, with some creative thinking and action. I’m sure the same will be true in the Ordinariates.
To Wash or Not To Wash
Feb 17th
I’m taking an unofficial poll.
Do you leave the ashes on your forehead until bedtime, or do you wash them off after you leave Mass?
Leaving them on gives a good witness to the world. It’s kind of like cattle being branded – there’s no doubt who the owner is! We belong to Christ, and we should never be ashamed to let the world know it. And it’s a good reminder of our mortality every time we catch a glance of ourselves in a mirror during the day.
On the other hand, the Gospel tells us, “…when you fast, anoint your head and wash your face, that your fasting may not be seen by men but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.” That seems to me to be pretty straightforward.
Full disclosure: I’m a washer-offer. But I wasn’t always so.
I’m curious about what others do, and the reason behind it. Maybe it’s personal, and I should mind my own business – but if it’s something you don’t mind sharing, I’d be interested.
Making Merbecke Catholic Again
Feb 17th
For most Anglicans, when they hear the name John Merbecke, they think immediately of the very simple and plain setting used for “The Order for the Administration of the Lord’s Supper, or Holy Communion.” Each year in our parish we use this setting for the Sung Mass on Lenten weekdays, and it’s the perfect complement to the veiled cross and closed triptych. Musically it’s not terribly exciting, but that’s the point of using it during this season. It’s tuneful but not overwhelming, and when it’s sung by the pure voices of children, it affords an interesting change in these penitential days.
The roots of this little setting couldn’t be more Anglican. In 1550, Archbishop Thomas Cranmer had asked Merbecke to provide service music “containing so much of the Order of Common Prayer as is to be sung in Churches.” It was to be simple and able to be sung by everyone, and the requirement was “for every syllable a note.”
We don’t know anything about Merbecke’s musical education, but apparently he was an accomplished singer and organist. Born in c.1505, by 1531 his name heads the list of choristers at St. George’s Chapel, Windsor. He was appointed Organist of St. George’s in 1541. The virulent protestantism creeping through Europe was making its way into England at that time, and Merbecke was drawn into it, even though he was serving at the King’s Royal Chapel. That was a strange time – King Henry had broken with Rome, but in many ways he remained conservative in his religion, and in those circumstances, Merbecke’s protestant sympathies forced him into a double life. Of course, it couldn’t last forever, and by 1543 his protestantism was revealed. He was accused of owning and writing heretical documents – something that was, in fact, true. Along with two other colleagues at St. George’s, Merbecke was arrested. Charged with being a heretic, he was condemned to death. Stephen Gardiner, the Bishop of Winchester, pleaded Merbecke’s case before the King, and he was given a reprieve. Released from his imprisonment, Merbecke returned to his post of Organist at St. George’s, where he stayed until his death in c.1585.
Although John Merbecke is probably best remembered for his 1550 work on the Booke of Common Praier Noted, before the English Reformation he was a somewhat talented composer of liturgical music for the Catholic Church, although not many of his compositions survive. His Missa Per arma iustitie is still available, as well as the Marian anthem Ave Dei patris filia. The antiphon Domine Ihesu Christe is probably one of his better works, although it’s more sturdy than beautiful.
John Merbecke became a convinced Calvinist, and he expressed great regret for his Catholic compositions. In fact, in 1550 he wrote, “…in the study of music and playing on organs, I consumed vainly the greatest part of My life.” It’s really his Booke of Common Praier Noted, with its simple Communion setting, which has made Merbecke best known, and that wasn’t actually a work of composition; rather, it was a fitting of the words of the English liturgy to modified plainsong melodies.
I’ve wondered, as I hear his Communion setting being sung at a Catholic Mass, what he would think. I’m quite sure that if he had witnessed such a thing during his earthly life, he would have been appalled – but now that he has the knowledge that comes with eternity (and I do hope he’s spending it in heaven), I would imagine he appreciates the unexpected turn of events which has brought his music back to the Church in which he was baptized.
Burying the Alleluia
Feb 13th
For those who follow the traditional calendar with the “Gesima” Sundays, you would have done this on the day before Septuagesima. But for those of us who follow the revised Latin Rite calendar, on Shrove Tuesday all the children will place their decoratively written Alleluias in a small coffin near the entrance of the church. We’ll sing the “Alleluia dulce carmen” at the end of Mass, as we process to the Lady Chapel, where the coffin will remain until the great Easter Vigil.
There are many local traditions surrounding the “Burying of the Alleluia,” but the purpose is always the same: to mark the cessation of singing or saying the Alleluia during the penitential season, so that it can break out as a new song at Easter. As the 13th century bishop, William Duranti, wrote, “We desist from saying Alleluia, the song chanted by angels, because we have been excluded from the company of the angels on account of Adam’s sin. In the Babylon of our earthly life we sit by the streams, weeping as we remember Sion. For as the children of Israel in an alien land hung their harps upon the willows, so we too must forget the Alleluia song in the season of sadness, of penance, and bitterness of heart.”
The students in our parish school get ready for this every year, and take it very seriously. In fact, a few years ago just after Lent had begun, one of our very young students asked if he could see me because he had to tell me something “very, very important.” When he came to me, he wanted to tell me what one of the other boys had done earlier that day. It sounded serious, so I encouraged him to tell me about it. In a half-whispered voice the offence was reported: “He said the ‘A’ word!”
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The Vicar of Bray Syndrome
Feb 10th
This is a brief essay I wrote three years ago. It still seems quite appropriate.
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While it is not the purpose of these observations and musings to peek into the spiritual lives and religious practices of others, there are some things which cause such wonder that a few thoughts expressed might be forgivable. I cannot help but think of those good people who attempt to soldier on in the place where my own ministry began many years ago, but where I could not stay because of very real concern for the spiritual well-being of my family and myself.
As long ago as the mid-1970’s it had become evident to me that with the crisis of authority in Anglicanism, there would be a gradual disintegration of what had been a venerable (although incomplete) expression of the Christian faith. To change discipline has long been a legitimate part of the life of the Church, but the idea of changing doctrine at the whim of a simple majority vote is antithetical to the will of Christ. When a very small majority of a very small part of the Anglican Communion could make a decision about ordination which struck at the very foundation of sacramental life, or were able to cobble together a justification for abortion in certain cases, I realized that the Episcopal Church was not a safe place to be. For me, it was not so much the issue of the ordination of women (as impossible as that is, in a Catholic understanding of Holy Orders), nor was it that some were able to wander off into a moral wasteland; rather, it was that the authority to make such decisions was claimed by those who were able to push forward their desire for this. “What next?” was all I could think. And indeed, we have seen what has come next – a series of decisions which even calls into question the Christian status of the Episcopal Church.
There are still so many good people there, one cannot help but wonder how they are able to continue. It may be unfair, but when I see otherwise faithful people remaining where they are while their religion falls apart around them, I could not help but think that perhaps some of them have what might be called “The Vicar of Bray Syndrome.” There was a clergyman who managed to hold his position as parish priest in the village of Bray from the days of Charles II until the accession of George I of the House of Hanover, quite comfortably becoming Catholic or protestant according to the religion of the reigning monarch. He is described by Isaac D’Israeli (1766-1848) in his Curiosities of Literature, in this way:
“The vicar of Bray, in Berkshire, was a Papist under the reign of Henry the Eighth, and a Protestant under Edward the Sixth; he was a Papist again under Mary, and once more became a Protestant in the reign of Elizabeth. When this scandal to the gown was reproached for his versatility of religious creeds, and taxed for being a turncoat and an unconstant changeling… he replied, ‘Not so neither; for if I changed my religion, I am sure I kept true to my principle; which is, to live and die the vicar of Bray!’”
There is a famous ballad, sung over the years by many an Anglican theological student, with not a little derision for such a dulled conscience:
“You expect me to believe that?”
Feb 8th
From the Catechism of the Catholic Church:
889 In order to preserve the Church in the purity of the faith handed on by the apostles, Christ who is the Truth willed to confer on her a share in his own infallibility. By a “supernatural sense of faith” the People of God, under the guidance of the Church’s living Magisterium, “unfailingly adheres to this faith.”
890 The mission of the Magisterium is linked to the definitive nature of the covenant established by God with his people in Christ. It is this Magisterium’s task to preserve God’s people from deviations and defections and to guarantee them the objective possibility of professing the true faith without error. Thus, the pastoral duty of the Magisterium is aimed at seeing to it that the People of God abides in the truth that liberates. To fulfill this service, Christ endowed the Church’s shepherds with the charism of infallibility in matters of faith and morals. The exercise of this charism takes several forms:
891 “The Roman Pontiff, head of the college of bishops, enjoys this infallibility in virtue of his office, when, as supreme pastor and teacher of all the faithful – who confirms his brethren in the faith he proclaims by a definitive act a doctrine pertaining to faith or morals. . . . The infallibility promised to the Church is also present in the body of bishops when, together with Peter’s successor, they exercise the supreme Magisterium,” above all in an Ecumenical Council. When the Church through its supreme Magisterium proposes a doctrine “for belief as being divinely revealed,” and as the teaching of Christ, the definitions “must be adhered to with the obedience of faith.” This infallibility extends as far as the deposit of divine Revelation itself.
892 Divine assistance is also given to the successors of the apostles, teaching in communion with the successor of Peter, and, in a particular way, to the bishop of Rome, pastor of the whole Church, when, without arriving at an infallible definition and without pronouncing in a “definitive manner,” they propose in the exercise of the ordinary Magisterium a teaching that leads to better understanding of Revelation in matters of faith and morals. To this ordinary teaching the faithful “are to adhere to it with religious assent” which, though distinct from the assent of faith, is nonetheless an extension of it.
From a comment on a blog discussing Anglicanorum coetibus:
“Papal Infallibility for me is the dogma that prevents me from joining the Roman Catholic Church.”
In my work with potential converts to the Catholic faith, I can’t remember how many times someone has told me, “I just can’t accept ______” (fill in the blank). It might be the Immaculate Conception, the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, papal infallibility, transubstantiation, or some other Catholic doctrine. My response is always, “Tell me what you think the Church teaches about that.” When they tell me, it’s not surprising they’re having trouble accepting it. I wouldn’t be able to, either.
Taking just the matter of papal infallibility, it’s remarkable how many people confuse it with impeccability, thinking we’re claiming that the Pope can’t sin. Or they imagine that it applies to every single thing he says, and every random thought that crosses his mind. Frequently, people have a too-narrow idea of it, not understanding that it belongs to the whole Church, and flows from an adherence to the Magisterium.
Some people think it gives a kind of super-power to the Pope, when in reality it limits him simply to teaching the truth.
So if someone says they can’t accept infallibility, or the Marian dogmas, or any other aspect of the Faith, let’s make sure what they “can’t accept” is what the Church really teaches.
The Sacrament of Penance: A Few Thoughts
Feb 3rd
Over the years of his ministry, a priest hears many thousands of confessions. It is one of his great privileges, to pronounce the words of absolution which free a penitent from those chains which have bound him. There is perhaps no other time that the priest feels so deeply the sense of that fatherhood which gives him his title. A child of God speaks the words, “Bless me, father, for I have sinned…” and in the quiet of the confessional the power of Christ is stirred for the renewal of the soul. That which was broken is healed. What was so heavy at the time of coming is lifted. It is its own magnum mysterium as new birth is once more imparted to the penitent. The Divine hears through the human ear. The fruits of Calvary are applied, and it is as though the waters of baptism flow once again over the sullied soul.
In the confessional we are made young again. Just as a child is brought to the font, so the soul is presented to our Lord for Him to do His work. And when it is done, those happy words: “Go in peace, for the Lord has taken away your sins.”
“Live peaceably with all…”
Feb 2nd
In his entry on Disinformation, Christian Campbell spread a much-needed dose of herbicide on a pesky weed patch. It’s a shame it was necessary, but crabgrass left unchecked tends to take over the garden.
In the years since I resigned my ministry in the Episcopal Church, I’ve thought about why some people react as they do. My experience was nearly thirty years ago in the tiny state of Rhode Island. It’s an overwhelmingly Catholic state, but the Episcopal Church is next in size. It has the longest name – The State of Rhode Island and Providence Plantations – but it’s the smallest in area, smaller than a decent ranch in Texas, so whatever happens in one corner of the state is automatically next door to everybody. And you know how people are, when something’s happening next door. What the state lacks in size, it makes up in expressing opinions, and there were plenty of them when my plans to become a Catholic became public.
I remember an editorial in one of the local papers at the time. It started out protesting the fact that anybody should pay any attention to this at all. “If it was a ‘man bites dog’ story, it would be interesting,” the editorial said, ”but this is just an ordinary ‘dog bites man’ story.” It then went on for several column inches describing what was supposed to be an uninteresting story, finishing with a list of Catholic priests who had become Episcopalians, in a “so there, take that” climax.
The purpose of this isn’t to keep the discussion going. But we’re going to be dealing with these attitudes for a very long time because of the very nature of the Ordinariates. We have to be long on patience, thick of skin, faithful in example. There may be personal cost. An Episcopal priest whom I considered to be my best friend hasn’t spoken to me at all since I became a Catholic. To this day, some thirty years later, I miss him.
Why these reactions? I don’t really know, since I’m not a psychologist. Maybe our spiritual journey is taken by them to be an insult to their own spiritual life. It could be that our decision pricks some consciences, and it’s uncomfortable. Maybe they just want everybody to be as miserable as they are. I don’t know. But also, don’t discount the influence of the Evil One. There aren’t many things that twisted creature hates more, than for someone to embrace the fullness of God’s truth – and there seems to be no shortage of otherwise good people who will step right into the role of the devil’s dupe.
It’s important that we never stop praying, especially for the ones who seem most upset by our decision to become Catholics. Who knows? Their anger could just be a reaction to the devil’s last kick before they submit to the gentle Spirit of God. I’ve lost count of the people who tell me, “I never thought I’d be doing this!” just as they’re about to make their Profession of Faith as a Catholic – and I’d put myself in that number.
St. Paul says it best:
Let love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good; love one another with brotherly affection; outdo one another in showing honor. Never flag in zeal, be aglow with the Spirit, serve the Lord. Rejoice in your hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints, practice hospitality. Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another; do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly; never be conceited. Repay no one evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all. If possible, so far as it depends upon you, live peaceably with all.
-Romans 12:9-18
God, a Book, and a Boy
Jan 27th
I grew up on a farm in Connecticut. It wasn’t like one of those high-class places in the movies. No pristine white rail fences, just plain old barbed wire to keep the livestock off the road. The house had sections which pre-dated the American Revolution, but it couldn’t have passed as elegant. It was just comfortable, as well-used farm houses are comfortable.
We shared it with my grandparents. Families used to do that sort of thing. They lived in one part, and we had ours. Visiting them was as easy as walking through a door from our front room into their kitchen, and it was a route I knew well as a child.
In my grandparents’ part of the house there was what was known as the back room, which had been a bedroom when my father was growing up. The reason for its demotion from bedroom to back room was evident: its location in the northeast corner of the house gave it little protection from howling winter winds, and since insulation was nearly unknown when the house was built, it was pretty darned cold in there. Certainly no place someone would want for a bedroom, if it could be helped.
Its changed status meant that it became a repository for everything that had no other place to be put. It became my treasure-trove. Old pictures, Nana’s unwanted knick-knacks, boxes with forgotten contents, all of it found its final resting place in there.
There were two things in the back room that I came close to coveting. One was an oval-shaped bas-relief carving of the Descent of Christ from the Cross. How such a thing found its way into the possession of a protestant family, I’ll never know. But I loved it, and when I asked my grandmother if I could have it, for some reason she told me that if I was ever ordained I could claim it. I was, and I did, and it hangs in my rectory to this day. The second thing was a book, a very particular book which had belonged to my English great-grandmother, who had been staunchly Anglican. It was a combined Book of Common Prayer (1662 edition) and the Holy Bible (King James Version), and although my family subsequently wandered off into Methodism, they had kept this book because it had been Nana’s. Its leather binding was cracked, but not badly. There was an ornate brass cross attached to its front cover. I wanted it very much, and it was given to me. So began my love affair with the formality of Anglican prayers and with the Holy Scriptures.
It seems odd that a ten year old boy would be able to find something of God within cracked leather and yellowed pages, but I did. It was as close as I had to a Real Presence, and my inability to understand all the words emphasized the Mystery I was seeking. There would seem to be little use for “A Table to Find Easter-Day; From the Present Time till the Year 2199 Inclusive,” or for “Forms of Prayer for the Anniversary of the day of the Accession of the Reigning Sovereign,” or even for “A Table of Kindred and Affinity,” although it was fascinating to learn that one’s mother’s father’s wife may not marry her mother’s mother’s husband. But for the rest of it, these were my first faltering steps towards Catholic beauty, Catholic order, Catholic truth.
The prayers did it for me. And the words of the Scriptures. I would speak them sotto voce in my room, just because the words sounded so beautiful, even to my ignorant ears. I suppose, by most external points of reference, it was an odd thing for a child to do. Certainly, I had plenty of friends, activities at school, involvement in the local church, duties at home. But my soul had a hungry corner that would not stop its demands until it was satisfied. I had never heard Augustine’s words about the restless heart, but I surely knew what he meant.
One of the wonders of the Catholic faith is that it reaches into such unexpected places and in such extraordinary ways to draw the unsuspecting to itself. Indeed, this is its catholicity. It feeds both farm boy and pope.
A Word to the Wise
Jan 26th
I’ve been laid low these past few days with a bad case of cedar fever – a scourge known only to those who have ever lived amongst the South Texas junipers. It’s an affliction resulting from breathing in the profuse pollen from said trees that sets an otherwise healthy person into spasms of eye-dabbing, nose-blowing, throat-clearing and body-aching. It’s probably God’s way of telling Yankees that they should have stayed in the north, since the indigenous population doesn’t seem to suffer from it quite so severely. But I’m not writing this to educe your sympathy (although a little would be nice); rather, I wish to assert a hearty second to what Fr. Chadwick states so well in his article, Diplomatic Niceties, and to make some further but related points.
When our parish was canonically erected in 1983 we found ourselves living in an archdiocese which was (then) quite liberal. Those Catholics who were of a more conservative or traditional bent had been living a rather submerged existence for quite some time, and with the genesis of our parish there suddenly was a place that seemed, for many of these Catholics, to be heaven-sent. Attendance at our Masses and other devotions showed a dramatic and immediate growth. Because I was undeniably a naïf when it came to the realities of Catholic life in the trenches, I flattered myself into believing that they had come flocking only because of the magnetic nature of the Anglican Use, and the dignified beauty of our liturgical life. For some, that probably was true; however, I learned quickly that many of our visitors were there for other reasons.
Suddenly, our parishioners were being inundated with brochures outlining all sorts of obscure (at least to me) devotions and apparitions. Pamphlets were being pressed into the hands of our new converts, some claiming the Pope wasn’t really the pope, or trying to show the invalidity of the “new” Mass, or that “Our Lady says thus-and-so.” I discovered that our little parish was being used as a fertile field in which some Catholics with a particular theological, ecclesiastical, and political agenda wanted to sow their seeds. I had to mature as a pastor pretty quickly, so that I could protect our little flock from these several well-meaning but misguided people.
Our experience is not unique. Other Anglican Use parishes have sometimes had similar experiences, and I’m quite sure those who come into the Catholic Church through Anglicanorum coetibus will have such stories to tell one day. I don’t say this because I think we should be somehow exclusive; but we do need to remember the particular purpose of the Ordinariates. There will be occasions when our parishes will get swept up in some cause or issue which really isn’t ours. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be concerned with those things that are of concern to our fellow Catholics, but we have our own work to accomplish in the building up of God’s Kingdom, and the Holy Father has outlined it pretty clearly for us. And as my grandmother used to say, “tend to your own knitting.”
Personal Ordinariates: Who Can Belong?
Jan 24th
Although this isn’t a pressing issue for the parishes of TAC at the moment, it is for the Anglican Use parishes of the Pastoral Provision. Here’s what I wrote to our folks just after Anglicanorum coetibus was made public:
Of all the aspects of the Apostolic Constitution, the section which seems to be the cause of most concern and questions is found in the Complementary Norms, Article 5 §1. “The lay faithful originally of the Anglican tradition who wish to belong to the Ordinariate, after having made their Profession of Faith and received the Sacraments of Initiation, with due regard for Canon 845, are to be entered in the apposite register of the Ordinariate. Those baptized previously as Catholics outside the Ordinariate are not ordinarily eligible for membership, unless they are members of a family belonging to the Ordinariate.”
First of all, this is referring to future situations because at this point there is no Ordinariate. Therefore, every Catholic baptism, whether in an Anglican Use parish or in a territorial Latin Rite parish, is administered ‘outside the Ordinariate.’ Does this mean that the hundreds of people I’ve baptized at Our Lady of the Atonement over these past twenty-six years will be ineligible for membership in the Ordinariate? Obviously that would not be the intention expressed in the Constitution.
What about Catholics who have been baptized as regular Latin Rite Catholics whose children have received one or more of the Sacraments of Initiation at an Anglican Use parish? Obviously, the child is eligible for membership in the Ordinariate, and it’s apparent that the parents would have that same eligibility.
Because there have been Anglican Use parishes in existence for many years, there are many people who have made attachments to these parishes. They’ve been married in these parishes; their children have been baptized in these parishes; their loved ones have been buried from these parishes. Do we think for a moment that the Holy Father, who has been overwhelmingly generous in this Constitution, would intend that these Faithful should not maintain their ties – indeed, their membership – in these parishes? Of course not.
What about an older couple, with no other ties to a parish other than the fact that they’ve attended for years and have made the parish their own? Would the Church tell them, ‘Sorry, this isn’t your parish any more.’ I doubt it.
In fact, I asked these very questions when speaking with a couple of members of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith. As I was told by one of them who has been closely involved in developing the Constitution, ‘What does membership mean, other than a person attends regularly, receives the sacraments regularly and contributes to the work of the parish? There will be nothing stopping people from doing that in parishes of an Ordinariate when they are established.’
The only time there will be actual canonical questions is in the case of marriage. The Sacrament of Matrimony must be witnessed by the proper pastor (or his delegate) of one or both of the parties. If two persons wish to be married in an Ordinariate parish, neither of whom would be automatically eligible for membership, delegation can be given by one of their proper pastors for the marriage to be witnessed by a priest or deacon of the Ordinariate. But those cases will probably not be frequent, and there are always ways of dealing with such things in a pastoral way.
I think the bottom line is this: the rule sounds as though it’s exclusive. But even the rule is tempered by the word ‘ordinarily.’ Those baptized previously as Catholics outside the Ordinariate are not ordinarily eligible for membership… There’s no such thing as a wasted word in an Apostolic Constitution. The word ‘ordinarily’ wouldn’t have been included in the text without the probability that there will be exceptions. Those wonderful words, ‘for pastoral reasons,’ will be much in evidence, I have no doubt.
These are just my private thoughts. I’m not writing with any authority or in any official way. But I know how things have been working for the past twenty-six years in our parish, and have no reason to think things will change with the Apostolic Constitution. And remember – the Ordinariate will have an Ordinary, a real live person who has the pastoral responsibility for those who are attached (or who desire to be attached) to this spiritual patrimony. Surely he, in his pastoral role, will assist any Catholic who has a sincere desire to be part of this, no matter where they’ve been baptized.
Honestly, I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. God’s in control, and this is really going to work.
This is something that will have to be settled as soon as an Ordinariate is established in this country. The Pastoral Provision parishes will be an important component in the implementation of Anglicanorum coetibus. A generation has passed since the first of these parishes was established, and their pattern of growth gives an indication of the future for many of the TAC parishes. It’s simply a fact – and very much our experience – that some life-long Catholics, with no Anglican connections, will find a spiritual home within the Ordinariates.
One further thought: when I said, “The only time there will be actual canonical questions is in the case of marriage,” it was within a day or two of the publication of the Apostolic Constitution, and I hadn’t really thought things through. I think the bigger question will surround ordination, and who will be eligible for consideration. I think the limitations placed on membership in the Ordinariates is primarily to maintain control over which married men might seek ordination within the Ordinariates.
As I mentioned at the beginning, this isn’t an important matter for TAC parishes now, but it certainly will be in the future.
Powerful Words
Jan 21st
Every once in a while I need to read this brief passage written by Dom Gregory Dix, in his major work, The Shape of the Liturgy (published in 1945). There’s something about it that’s so striking, so nourishing to the soul. He’s considering Christ’s command to “do this, in memory of me.”
Was ever a command so obeyed? For century after century, spreading slowly to every continent and country and among every race on earth, this action has been done, in every conceivable circumstance, for every conceivable human need from infancy and before it to extreme old age and after it, from the pinnacles of human greatness to the refuge of fugitives in the caves and dens of the earth. Men have found no better thing than this to do for kings at their crowning and for criminals going to the scaffold; for armies in triumph or for a bride and bridegroom in a little country church; for the proclamation of a dogma or for a good crop of wheat; for the wisdom of the Parliament of a mighty nation or for a sick old woman afraid to die; for a schoolboy sitting an examination or for Columbus setting out to discover America; for the famine of whole provinces or for the soul of a dead lover; in thankfulness because my father did not die of pneumonia; for a village headman much tempted to return to fetich because the yams had failed; because the Turk was at the gates of Vienna; for the repentance of Margaret; for the settlement of a strike; for a son for a barren woman; for Captain so-and-so, wounded and prisoner-of-war; while the lions roared in the nearby amphitheatre; on the beach at Dunkirk; while the hiss of scythes in the thick June grass came faintly through the windows of the church; tremulously, by an old monk on the fiftieth anniversary of his vows; furtively, by an exiled bishop who had hewn timber all day in a prison camp near Murmansk; gorgeously, for the canonisation of S. Joan of Arc — one could fill many pages with the reasons why men have done this, and not tell a hundredth part of them. And best of all, week by week and month by month, on a hundred thousand successive Sundays, faithfully, unfailingly, across all the parishes of christendom, the pastors have done this just to make the plebs sancta Dei — the holy common people of God.
Absolutely beautiful.
We Never Really Stop Being Students, Do We?
Jan 19th
I was simply going to write a quick response to Fr. Chadwick’s very good post which outlines “A Typical Plan of Catholic Ecclesiastical Studies.” Then, after reading some of the responses, I thought perhaps it would be more helpful to share a bit more extensively my own experience of preparing for Catholic ordination through the Pastoral Provision. Of course, I have no direct information about whether the clergy who enter through Anglicanorum coetibus will be following the same process or not. I would think it’s quite probable there will be some system of assessment, and (where necessary) a remedial program. But for all of us, at this time, that’s guess-work. My purpose here is to give a brief account of my own experience.
First, my previous preparation: I took my first stab at college when I was seventeen, and spent a year at Westminster Choir College in Princeton, where I majored in Organ Performance. I had this crazy idea that I wanted to be a church musician. I was cured quickly. I transferred to Barrington College in Rhode Island (a small Christian liberal arts institution, now merged with Gordon College in Massachusetts), from which I graduated with a degree in Biblical Studies, which included a minor in Philosophy. Then it was off to seminary. I was married by this time, but we had no children yet, so it seemed like the perfect opportunity to do something a bit adventurous. We packed up and moved to England, where I attended Salisbury and Wells Theological College in Salisbury. I completed the program of studies and subsequently was ordained in England for the Diocese of Bristol.
The education I received was very solid. My study habits were fairly good, although I’m sure there was room for improvement. I was as well-prepared as the others with whom I was ordained, and quite frankly, most of us were quite happy to be done with sitting in lecture halls. We were eager to get out into our parishes.
When I entered the Pastoral Provision process, I was quite anxious about the academic assessment. Would I appear ill-prepared? Was I going to be required to attend a residential seminary program? Was there some secret stash of Catholic theology that I’d never heard of, so that the assessors could catch me out in an “aha!” moment?
As it turned out, none of those things was true. I spent a few days at Catholic University in Washington, where I was questioned verbally in the various areas of study. The professors were all very kind and encouraging. I began to realize that the Church wasn’t requiring this of me to make my life difficult; rather, it was to assist me in becoming a better priest and pastor. Our parish was quite small during this time, but it was always acknowledged that I was ministering to our little community and that I was preparing them for their own entrance into the Catholic Church. There was never any thought or suggestion that I should cease ministering to them.
After my assessment I had a clear idea of those areas in which I needed to do further study, and a mentor priest in the archdiocese was assigned to me. He didn’t impose himself on me, but was available if I had questions or needed guidance. I was allowed to work at my own pace, but I was pretty eager to get the work done and press on towards the examinations. As I recall, I took about ten months to study and prepare. I never felt pressured or rushed, and actually found that I enjoyed it more than my formal time in educational institutions.
When I was ready, the written examinations were sent to the priest who was my mentor, and he served as proctor while I completed them. There were no surprises on the examinations; there was nothing that made me break out into a cold sweat. They were just solid exams, giving me the opportunity to demonstrate my knowledge and experience. When they were completed, the examinations were sent to the various professors. Because I had shown a mastery of the material, I was then invited to return to Catholic University for oral examinations.
My nervousness kicked in again. Are they going to ask trick questions? Will I get tongue-tied? I was certain my mind was going to go blank. Again, nothing of the sort happened. The professors, most of them priests, did a marvellous job of putting me at ease. Each one made it a point to speak about the answers I had provided on the written test, and several had nice things to say about some of the things I’d written. In the course of conversation, I found that I was expanding on something or other, getting involved in a real give-and-take discussion. Eventually, I wondered when the oral examination was going to start. Then I realized, I was already doing it. Really, it was quite a painless experience.
There were a few other men being examined at the same time, and our general consensus was that it was a very good experience. I’m assuming it has remained much the same. If any of the other Pastoral Provision priests have had a different experience, I’d be interested to know about it. But honestly, there’s no reason to think about this with dread; there’s truly nothing to fear.
Remember, the Church isn’t looking for ways to keep you out, and if assessments and examinations are part of the process, they’re intended to be a help and not a hurdle. Honestly, I do understand the anxiety of some – but it will be one of those experiences, after it’s over, that you’ll say, “That wasn’t so bad after all.”
A Good Experience with a Bishop
Jan 18th
Lest we become discouraged with the accounts of obstructive bishops and their bad behaviour, I’d like to report a good experience.
I received a call last Thursday, and the voice at the other end said, “I’m calling from the archbishop’s office. He would like to arrange a time when you can meet him in his office.” I did a quick mental inventory, and there wasn’t anything I could think of that could possibly give reason for anxiety – one tends to do that when a call comes from diocesan headquarters. I asked if the archbishop had a time in mind. “Yes,” was the answer, “tomorrow afternoon at 3:30.” It seemed awfully quick, so I did the inventory again. Nothing.
It was a rainy day this past Friday, so I allowed myself plenty of time to get to the chancery. Too much time, in fact. I was thirty minutes early, so I slipped into the chapel to spend a bit of time with our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament, just for a little reassurance.
The appointed time arrived, and the archbishop greeted me with a smile and invited me to sit down. It was a good sign – no desk between us, but instead we were in comfortable chairs. “I thought we should talk a little about what the Apostolic Constitution is going to mean for us,” he said.
Then we had a very good conversation. I asked him if he any difficulties with what is outlined in Anglicanorum coetibus, and he said that since this is what the Holy Father wants done, he, as the archbishop, supports it completely. And this is very much in keeping with our experience with our archbishop. He has visited the parish a number of times in the five years he has been our Ordinary, and he even put in the effort of learning to celebrate our liturgy, which both he and his auxiliary bishop have done when they have been with us.
We spoke of some of the practical issues which would present themselves, things such as the transfer of buildings and assets. That’s not a small matter, since there’s an annual budget of some three million dollars, with property valued at more than twenty-five million dollars, which means that the amount sent to the archdiocese each year is considerable. The archbishop was very frank in saying he didn’t know how the transfer to an Ordinariate would work, but that we would find out, and then do what needed to be done.
There was no hesitation on his part, although I had the feeling that he would probably prefer that we remain as a parish of the archdiocese. I think he also sensed in me a certain wistfulness. I have, after all, been incardinated in this archdiocese for nearly twenty-seven years. But then we spoke about the Holy Father’s point, that there needed to be continued cooperation between the Ordinariates and the respective dioceses, and how we’ll continue to be very much a part of the Catholic presence in the city. We both realized that here, on the local scene, not much would change.
We ended our hour together with the archbishop encouraging me to remain in communication with the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, and to let him know of any developments.
Perhaps I’ve bored you with this little account, but I hope not. I think it’s important that we not be overwhelmed by the stories of irresponsible or unhelpful bishops. There are some of them in the Church, I know. But there are many more who are faithful bishops – men who want to serve Christ and His Gospel. We need to support and speak about these bishops – these men who are true Fathers in God – and who are successors to the Apostles in the Church we love.
“Train up a child in the way he should go…”
Jan 16th
There’s a wonderful line in Anglicanorum coetibus which makes it clear that we’re supposed to “…maintain the liturgical, spiritual and pastoral traditions of the Anglican Communion within the Catholic Church, as a precious gift nourishing the faith of the members of the Ordinariate and as a treasure to be shared.” (Ang. coet. III)
It’s fairly obvious that to do this, we need parishes. Lots of them. We need parishes in every major city, and we need them in towns and villages. Until and unless people have the opportunity to become part of a community which is actually carrying out the mandate to “maintain the liturgical, spiritual and pastoral traditions,” then the sharing of the treasure will be sporadic at best. It’s in the parish setting that the liturgy lives on a daily basis, and it’s in the context of the parish that the priestly and diaconal ministries are most frequently exercised. Parishes will be the key component in the implementation of Anglicanorum coetibus.
I want to make another suggestion, however, which I believe will be fundamental to maintaining and nourishing the Anglican patrimony, and which will be a major means of its growth. Schools. I’m absolutely convinced that if the Ordinariates establish schools as part of their parishes, our patrimony will flourish.
When the bishops in the United States met at the First Plenary Council of Baltimore in 1852, it was for the purpose of organizing and standardizing the life and discipline of the Church. They issued twenty-five decrees, and one of them stated, “Bishops are exhorted to have a Catholic school in every parish and the teachers should be paid from the parochial funds.” In fact, the bishops felt so strongly about Catholic education, by the time the Third Plenary Council was held in 1884 they spoke of the “obligation” of the pastors to establish schools, and said that “parents must send their children to such schools,” unless the bishop judged there was sufficient reason for sending them elsewhere. So it’s pretty obvious that Catholic schools were deemed to be mighty important then, and I’m convinced they still are.
In 1993, I made the decision to establish a parish school. Although the parish of Our Lady of the Atonement had been established ten years before, it was still fairly small – fewer than 75 or 80 families. I won’t go through the litany of difficulties and obstacles we encountered (all from outside the parish), but suffice it to say that we opened for the school year in 1994. It was a modest beginning, with sixty-six students in Kindergarten through Third Grade. Today it’s a school which starts with Pre-Kindergarten and goes through High School. We have nearly five hundred students, with the probability of a larger number next year.
Every one of these students is immersed in our Anglican patrimony, every single day. The whole student body attends daily Mass, using the approved Anglican Use liturgy. Every student learns to sing Anglican Chant, hymns, and the great music of the Church, including plainchant. For them, the celebration of the Mass ad orientem, with traditional ceremonial, is completely normal. They take part in Solemn Evensong on several feast days throughout the year. They know and love our Anglican prayers, our way of doing things, our spirituality.
Because the education they receive is of the highest quality, recognized nationally, many parents seek to enroll their children – parents who perhaps aren’t practicing their faith, but who want something excellent for their children. Over the years, those students have been instrumental in bringing their families to the parish. I’ve lost count of how many baptisms I have administered, marriages I have convalidated, and confessions I have heard, because a student in the school has influenced the whole family.
And when these families begin attending – many of whom had not practiced any faith for years – they are immersed in our Anglican expression of the Catholic faith. It’s not long before they, too, come to count our patrimony as their own. In fact, it’s become almost meaningless to try and differentiate between those who used to be Anglicans and those who weren’t. Our Anglican patrimony has become the common way of expressing our Catholic faith, no matter what a person’s religious background is.
When the Ordinariates come into existence, I hope the importance of establishing schools will be high on the list of priorities. Parishes don’t have to be large, nor do they have to have great financial resources. Our own experience is evidence of that. But if we want to “…maintain the liturgical, spiritual and pastoral traditions of the Anglican Communion within the Catholic Church,” schools can have an essential role in accomplishing it.
(For a glimpse of a school which reflects our Anglican patrimony in the Catholic Church, go here.)
Unity According to the Mind of Christ
Jan 15th
Forgive me for stating what you already know; that we should always keep in our prayers an intention for the unity of all Christians. It’s tempting, now that Anglicanorum coetibus has been issued, to think, “Ok, our prayers have been answered. Let’s roll!”
First of all, it hasn’t been implemented yet, so we need to pray for that. But more importantly, Anglicanorum coetibus has ramifications far beyond us. There’s an unconverted world out there – we need to pray for all those who don’t understand that the unity Christ desires means unity with Peter and his successors.
From January 18 through January 25, Christians throughout the world will be keeping the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity. The official material composed for it each year is fine, but I’ve always found it to be pretty non-specific, as far as what we’re actually supposed to pray for – other than nice feelings and politeness – whereas the original prayers and intentions for the Octave of Prayer zero in much more on the fact that unity according to the mind of Christ is a specific kind of unity.
The Octave was first conceived by Father Paul of Graymoor on 30 November 1907, before his entrance into the Catholic Church. The initial success in 1908 was so encouraging that he decided to promote it annually, and he regarded the Octave as one of the special means which brought his Society of the Atonement into the Church on 30 October 1909. It was given papal blessing by Pope St. Pius X on 27 December 1909, just two months after the Society of the Atonement had entered the Catholic Church. Other popes have given it their blessings over the years, including Pope John XXIII (who urged its observance more widely throughout the world) and Pope Paul VI (who had promoted it in his archdiocese when he was the Cardinal Archbishop of Milan). Father Paul considered the Octave as the greatest project which came from Graymoor, and even though it was overshadowed by the less-specific “Week of Prayer for Christian Unity” during his own lifetime, he rejoiced that those separated from the Catholic Church felt called to observe the January period as a time of prayer for unity. Even though their concept of unity differs from that of the Catholic Church, it is significant that so many pray for that unity which God desires for His people.
The Octave, as originally conceived by Father Paul, reflects the unchanging truth that there can be no real unity apart from union with that Rock, established by Christ Himself, which is Peter and his successors. For that reason, St. Peter is considered the special Patron of the Octave of Prayer for Christian Unity.
THE OCTAVE PRAYERS
ANTIPHON: That they all may be one, as Thou, Father, in me and I in Thee; that they also may be one in Us; that the world may believe that Thou hast sent me.
V. I say unto thee, thou art Peter;
R. And upon this rock I will build my Church.
[Here is brought to mind the intention for the day's prayer.]
January 18: For the return of the “other sheep” to the One Fold of our Lord Jesus Christ.
January 19: For the return of the Eastern Orthodox Christians to communion with the Apostolic See.
January 20: For the return of the Anglicans to the authority of the Vicar of Christ.
January 21: For the return of all Protestants throughout the world to the unity of the Catholic Church.
January 22: That Christians in America may be one, in union with the Chair of Saint Peter.
January 23: That lapsed Catholics will return to the Sacraments of the Church.
January 24: That the Jewish people will be converted to the Catholic Faith.
January 25: That missionary zeal will conquer the world for Christ.
Let us pray. O Lord Jesus Christ, who saidst unto Thine Apostles: Peace I leave you, My peace I give to you; regard not our sins, but the faith of Thy Church, and grant unto her that peace and unity which are agreeable to Thy Will; Who livest and reignest ever, one God, world without end. Amen.
Some Thoughts From Newman
Jan 15th
To add to the discussion of the doctrine of papal infallibility, here are a couple of quotes from the Venerable John Henry Newman:
What I believe about the Pope, I believe, as I believe any other doctrine, – because the Church teaches it – but, for me, the Church directs me to the Pope not the Pope directs me to the Church. – from Letters and Diaries, Vol. XXII, p.95
Its communion with the see of St. Peter is not a ‘Note of the Church’. How then do I know which is the true Church? I know it by the tokens of its unity, its apostolicity, its pretensions etc etc. I admit that there are able men who have been led into the Church through belief in the Pope’s prerogatives. But a man need not believe in the jus divinum of the see of St. Peter in order to submit himself to the church which is in communion with it. This was my own case. I did not distinctly believe in the jus divinum of the Holy See till I joined the Church. I then believed in it as I believed in any other doctrine of the Church, because she was the Church, the oracle of Christ. I believed in the seven sacraments forthwith, because she taught them de fide; and for the same reason I believed in the jus divinum of the Papacy forthwith. – from Letters and Diaries, Vol. XX, p.308
