“Renounce some of their rights”

Background image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

First of all, let me just say I recognize how challenging this quote is. This idea stands 100% in opposition to our American cultural values.

However, if we are citizens of Heaven first and America second–as should be the case for all who call ourselves Catholic–then we have to accept the challenge in these words.

Interestingly, they are *not* Pope Francis’ words. They are the words of Pope Paul VI (he of Humane Vitae fame) from an apostolic letter called “Octogesima Adveniens,” dating from May 1971. I haven’t read the whole letter, but this is the full paragraph Pope Francis quoted from:

Through the statement of the rights of man and the seeking for international agreements for the application of these rights, progress has been made towards inscribing these two aspirations in deeds and structures (16). Nevertheless various forms of discrimination continually reappear – ethnic cultural, religious, political and so on. In fact, human rights are still too often disregarded, if not scoffed at, or else they receive only formal recognition. In many cases legislation does not keep up with real situations. Legislation is necessary, but it is not sufficient for setting up true relationships of justice and equity. In teaching us charity, the Gospel instructs us in the preferential respect due to the poor and the special situation they have in society: the more fortunate should renounce some of their rights so as to place their goods more generously at the service of others. If, beyond legal rules, there is really no deeper feeling of respect for and service to others, then even equality before the law can serve as an alibi for flagrant discrimination, continued exploitation and actual contempt. Without a renewed education in solidarity, an overemphasis of equality can give rise to an individualism in which each one claims his own rights without wishing to be answerable for the common good.

Pope Paul VI, Octegesima Adveniens, #23

There’s so much to unpack in that. “Legislation is necessary, but it is not sufficient for setting up true relationships of justice and equity.” Legislation, in other words, needs to happen, but we have to go beyond it.

And “renouncing rights” means what? Perhaps we could read that as a call to be less tax-averse. Perhaps we could read it as a call to be less inclined to hoard, judging others as unworthy, requiring them to prove they don’t need what we have to offer before we’re willing to give it to them.

“A renewed education in solidarity…” Solidarity is a word a lot of us associate with Lech Walesa, but it’s something we’re all called to–to enter into the pain of others, to make it our own. (Read Shannon Evans’ book Embracing Weakness. She broke open solidarity for me in a way I still haven’t figured out how to incorporate into my real life.)

“individualism in which each one claims his own rights without wishing to be answerable for the common good.” That one explains itself.

A lot to think about here! Because again, we’re recognizing that evangelization is not narrowly defined as walking around talking to anything with a heartbeat about Jesus Christ. Evangelization is something that encompasses all of real life. Because who will listen to us when we talk, if our view is so narrow we can’t see the forest for the trees?

God’s means of hearing the poor

This reminds me of Teresa of Avila saying, “God has no hands but yours…”

There’s a tension in modern life between prayer and action. Many of us have gotten jaded about invoking prayer because so often, “thoughts and prayers” seem a pretty poor substitute for action. God doesn’t come down and magically change things; we have to do the work. God works through us. Prayer isn’t about changing God’s mind–it’s about changing us.

Yet sometimes there truly is nothing we, in our human limitations, can figure out to do, other than pray. Pray for peace of mind, for acceptance, for grace to bear what we cannot take away.

More often, though, there are things we can do–they just require effort. We have to advocate publicly, but that presupposes that we’re willing to educate ourselves on the complexities of situations. We have to be willing to look at the world through someone else’s eyes and accept that the way the world works for us–which fundamentally shapes our vision of what is and is not possible–is not the way the world works for others. (Remember this quote?)

The Art of Listening

Today I will let the context of the quote above, in which Pope Francis is explaining what he means by “accompaniment,” stand on its own:

Listening, in communication, is an openness of heart which makes possible that closeness without which genuine spiritual encounter cannot occur. Listening helps us to find the right gesture and word which shows that we are more than simply bystanders. Only through such respectful and compassionate listening can we enter on the paths of true growth and awaken a yearning for the Christian ideal: the desire to respond fully to Godโ€™s love and to bring to fruition what he has sown in our lives. But this always demands the patience of one who knows full well what Saint Thomas Aquinas tells us: that anyone can have grace and charity, and yet falter in the exercise of the virtues because of persistent โ€œcontrary inclinationsโ€.

Evangelii Gaudium, #171

Pointing Scripture at others

The interesting thing is that the section of Evangelii Gaudium from which I drew both yesterday’s and today’s posts is addressed to preachers. Yet both days resonate really strongly with me as a lay person. I’m guilty of this… are you?

We don’t have to be perfect

A while back, I talked about the difference between viewing sin as “tripping on the way up the mountain” and viewing it as a sign of total, unredeemable depravity. I like seeing this quote from Evangelii Gaudium. It’s the same idea, only a pope said it. ๐Ÿ™‚

It’s such a relief to take these words in and let them spread out like salve on a blistered soul. The more scrupulous we are about our faith, the more we think the slightest misstep is going to doom us forever. Even our best intentions can trip us up. It’s so freeing to realize we don’t have to bear the burden of perfection–we’re just supposed to keep trying to be better than yesterday.

And it’s also a reminder that the grace given to me, to still have a place in the race even though I’m not perfect, is a grace I can offer to others as well. I can give them the benefit of the doubt and think of them in charity, assuming that they are working at holiness the same as I am.

Depending on who I apply that to, that’s the really hard part.

Evangelization Gets Real

For years, I’ve maintained that *living* the faith is the truest form of evangelization. I still believe that, and it’s tempting–because I really have zero comfort level with talking about the faith to people who don’t already share it–to gloss right over this snippet of Evangelii Gaudium.

The trouble is, I put it in bold face in my notes, which means I thought it was important. Probably because it makes me uncomfortable.

But here’s what I appreciate about it: it’s very authentic. It doesn’t say “go out and stand on a street corner and thump on a Bible.” It’s asking me to examine my life and recognize where God has touched it–and that is my witness. I have no problem saying, “Hey, everybody, I went to this great restaurant and the staff was friendly and the food was great and we had a great time!” I just have to learn to do that with my faith, too.

Unity, Dissent, Division

Photo by Vonecia Carswell on Unsplash

The subject of unity has been on my mind a lot lately.

A well-formed, 100% orthodox Catholic friend shared an editorial addressing the danger of the organized dissidence against Pope Francis. Itโ€™s from NCR, which conservative Catholics often donโ€™t trust, so I didnโ€™t share. But Iโ€™ve been troubled for a long time by this as well as other signs of division in the Church. How can I make a difference? How can I foster unity in the Church–and, for that matter, in the world?

Wrestling with those questions brings me back to this:

Dang it.

This is hard to swallow. I mean, I know I am flawed and weak. The rush to judgment I excoriate others for is my greatest sin, too. But Iโ€™m trying so hard to think around the issues that divide us. To form myself, educate myself, and discern whether the good in one side outweighs the good in the other. And to share whatever good there is with others. My hope is that taking a measured approach can help bridge the gaps between us. Am I really powerless?

I was contemplating this question with great angst when my laptop unexpectedly switched documents. Thereโ€™s nothing particularly remarkable about that (unfortunately); being an old computer with a first-generation touch screen, it does random things like that pretty regularly. What was remarkable was the document it flipped over toโ€”a nugget carved off another post that wandered too far from its original topic:

For years, Iโ€™ve wanted to pull my hair out as our societyโ€”both within the Church and outside itโ€”makes a run for the all-or-nothing extremes. If one dares challenge trickle down economic theory, one must, by definition, be against capitalism. If one says โ€œAmerica should be better than this,โ€ one must, by definition, hate America.

Of course, it happens the other direction, too. Words like “racistโ€ are getting thrown around pretty freely these days. Now, Iโ€™m a big believer that white privilege and unexamined bias are real problems. I see them manifest in myself daily, and the struggle to conquer them is part of my spiritual journey. But it also seems perfectly self-evident that well-intentioned people suffering from white privilege and unexamined bias are not going to be convinced to confront said privilege by being called racists for it. How we talk about things matters.


I had to stop and chuckle at the Holy Spiritโ€™s timing. It was like a little Divine nudge saying, โ€œYeah, unity is my problem–but I have a job for you, donโ€™t worry.โ€

As for the division in the Church: Iโ€™ve now read two of Pope Francisโ€™ documents in full, and I am baffled by the voices raised so loudly against him. Everything I see is so clearly, authentically Catholic. Heโ€™s called out people for getting too focused on a sliver of the Kingdom to the exclusion of the rest; heโ€™s called out legalism and extremism; heโ€™s called out the misidentification of things of the world as things of God. But thereโ€™s nothing threatening to the faith in any of that. So my best (most charitable) guess is that people get defensive when challenged to grow beyond the comfortable and familiar.

Thereโ€™s a lot of demonizing going on within the Church, and itโ€™s got to stop. Thereโ€™s got to be room in the Church both for people who are passionately committed to annihilating abortion and people who believe we canโ€™t sacrifice every other Gospel command in pursuit of that worthy goal.

I can’t help feeling that a lot of the negative chatter about Pope Francis is a reaction to him being outspoken on social justice rather than abortion. I have to keep reminding myself of this:

Both in our Church and in the larger world, our habit is to do exactly the oppositeโ€”and to cling so tightly to our assumptions that we end up not even seeing there could be another interpretation.

When we do that, the Devil is the only winner. When we do that, weโ€™re giving the Church and the world to Satan.

The Holy Spirit

Background image by Ashish Thakur on Unsplash

I am often guilty of trying to control everything, to take charge and fix what I see needs fixing on the strength of my own convictions and abilities. Since I’ve been quite opinionated the last two days on matters of liturgical music, I put this out as a reminder to all of us who feel passionately about liturgy–myself above all–that God is in charge, not me. That if I try to lean on my own understanding, I’m going to make things worse, not better.

Come, Holy Spirit. Sweep us along with you, and get us where You meant us to be all along.

(This post is part of a three-part series on the liturgy wars.)