Anonymous Christians?

“Anonymous Christians.” These were the two most exciting words I heard in my high school religion class. Fresh from the pen of the German theologian Karl Rahner, they summarized his theory that those who followed their conscience would be saved by Christ much like Christians are saved, even if they did not know or even refused to accept the Lord.

It was a long way from what we had heard about such folks in grade school.  At best, they were on their way to “limbo,” a rather pale imitation of heaven for the non-baptized.

The theory of the anonymous Christian did some good things. It helped make us more respectful of people with other faiths or none, and more aware of the mystery of God’s saving will. But along the way it did significant damage to the Church’s missionary identity.

The theologian and evangelist Ralph Martin has concluded that the theory has “greatly weakened the impetus to evangelization” in the Church.   In a brand new book called Will Many Be Saved? What Vatican II Teaches and Its Implications for the New Evangelization, Dr. Martin writes that “It is very easy to get the impression from Rahner’s essays on the topic that almost everyone, if not everyone, is already in a saving relationship with Christ.”  All that remains is to “enrich” or “improve” such a person’s life.

By now those of you have never heard of Karl Rahner are sitting back comfortably, thinking this homily has nothing to say to you. Alas, that’s not true. Whether you’ve heard of him or not, whether you’ve ever thought about anonymous Christianity or not, it’s almost certain you’ve signed on to the rosy view of nearly-universal salvation that is so much a part of present-day thinking.

I can say that with authority, since I spent many years thinking like that myself. But Ralph Martin, responding to the Church’s authentic teaching and particularly the teaching of Blessed John Paul, has been sounding the alarm for quite a while now, and he has managed to wake me up.

Here’s what he wrote in 2008:

“There is certainly a widespread impression among many Catholics today that virtually everybody will end up in heaven, with possibly a few, truly awful exceptions going to hell. … If I were to describe the prevailing world view among most Catholics in North America, Europe and Oceania today, I would describe it like this: ‘Broad and wide is the road that leads to salvation and almost everyone is travelling that way. Narrow is the road that leads to hell and hardly anyone is travelling that road. … The unfortunate thing is that it is exactly the opposite of what Jesus indicated is the truth about our situation.” (In The New Evangelization: Overcoming the Obstacles,  27)

Let’s be honest with ourselves. Isn’t this the way most of us think?

And I’ll be honest with you: it’s not the way a Catholic should think.  Consider these words of Pope John Paul: “If we go back to the beginnings of the Church, we find a clear affirmation that Christ is the one Saviour of all, the only one able to reveal God and lead to God.”

The Pope then quotes the words of St. Peter: “there is salvation in no one else, for there is no name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved.” He adds “This statement, which was made to the Sanhedrin, has a universal value, since for all people—Jews and Gentiles alike—salvation can only come from Jesus Christ.”

Before I spell out what this means for all of us, I need to pause to mention what it doesn’t mean. It doesn’t mean non-Christians are going to hell! The Catechism states that the Holy Spirit offers the possibility of salvation to all, in a way known to God.  Everyone who is ignorant of the Gospel, “but seeks the truth and does the will of God in accordance with his understanding of it, can be saved. It may be supposed that such persons would have desired Baptism explicitly if they had known its necessity.”

Nonetheless, even those who do not know him are saved by Christ, not by their own virtue.

Which brings us to the question: Why should we evangelize? Why not just let people alone with their conscience and whatever understanding of God they already have?

For one thing, we should note that the Catechism speaks of the salvation of the unbaptized "in a way known to God," whereas the salvation promised through Baptism and repentance has been made known to us by Christ.

Another new book also provides a clear answer. André Regnier, the co-founder of Catholic Christian Outreach, has just published Catholic Missionary Identity, reflecting on what has driven him for the past quarter-century as a lay missionary on university campuses.

The book concludes very simply that we must evangelize because Jesus told us to evangelize. “To be Catholic is to be missionary—to be willing to reach out to others and share with them the Good News of salvation.”

I know André Regnier very well, and when we’re ready for it I’ll ask him to speak in the parish. I say “when we’re ready,” since he doesn’t mince words. He writes very bluntly in the new book: “Unfortunately, for many Catholics, parish life does not inspire missionary activity. Apart from the relatively small group of people who are active within the community, the majority of the baptized are bored, uninspired, or uncommitted to parish life.”

Ouch!

He gets even more specific, adding “most parishes and their parishioners do not see themselves as instrumental in bringing back those who have walked away from the faith.”

I’m not going to get defensive and argue with André about the situation in our parish. Society is in crisis, and this is no time for back-patting. Although we have been blessed at Christ the Redeemer by the evangelizing zeal of some truly dedicated parishioners, we won’t be a fully missionary parish until every one of us thinks and acts like a missionary.

We are on the eve of the Year of Faith that Pope Benedict has offered to the Church as a fresh opportunity for “renewed enthusiasm of the encounter with Christ.” Announcing the Year of Faith, the Holy Father quoted his homily at the Mass marking the beginning of his pontificate where he said that the whole Church “must set out to lead people out of the desert, towards the place of life, towards friendship with the Son of God, towards the One who gives us life, and life in abundance.”

We are also on the eve of the Catholics Come Home initiative in our own Archdiocese, where the entire local Church community will work together to invite Catholics back to Mass by a number of ways, including television ads and a warm welcome in the parish.

 

And in our parish, we are just a week away from the two most important missionary moments in our own annual calendar: the first of these are evenings for those interested in learning more about the Church. They begin a week from Tuesday. These inquiry sessions will lead to the Rite of Christian Initiation for those ready to join the Church.

The second missionary moment in the parish is the Alpha Course, which begins a week from tomorrow. Alpha is a basic introduction to Christianity; it doesn’t presuppose anything. Some folks come just to argue, but many hearts are changed by the witty videos and the non-judgmental discussion that follows.

It should be obvious that most of the folks who should be at RCIA or Alpha next week are not in church this morning! So there’s only one way we won’t be cooking for empty tables or talking to empty chairs: and that is if you think like a missionary and ask family members and friends to participate—which usually means coming along with those you invited, at least until they’re comfortable.

But we won’t think like missionaries unless we first think like disciples—unless we recognize with true joy that Christ has saved us. Today’s readings are a wonderful opportunity to think about that: they don’t say much to the anonymous Christian, but they speak with great power to those who have experienced the grace of salvation: water has been poured into the wilderness of our hearts, refreshing the desert of our weary spirits.

Each one of us has had our eyes and ears opened to the truth—the truth about ourselves, and the truth about God’s merciful love. As the opening prayer for today's Mass says, we know that we are beloved sons and daughters, offered true freedom and an everlasting inheritance.

These aren’t poetic words but the facts of our salvation in Christ. If we believe them, how can we not share them?

Through the prophet Isaiah, the Lord commands us “Say to those who are of a fearful heart, ‘Be strong, do not fear! Here is your God. … He will come and save you.’”

These are probably not the words to use with your brother-in-law or next-door neighbour!  You can probably find a somewhat softer approach.

But we must not soften the words God speaks to us as active Catholics in the parish. We’re called this week to speak to someone with a fearful heart—someone who fears the future, someone who fears the past, even someone who fears the Church. What we’ll say will differ in every case, ranging from a lighthearted invitation to Alpha to a direct challenge to rediscover a once-strong faith.

Will you do it?

I leave you with one thought based on today’s Gospel. Imagine a family member or friend whose vision or hearing was seriously impaired. What if you knew something that would give them the gift of sight or allow them to hear? Would you keep it secret?

Jesus has laid his healing hands on each one of us. Let us now help others to experience that saving touch.

More on Monica! (Sunday 22.B)

My time away was good.  The meetings went well, the weather was fine, and I had some time with my brother and his family and visited fine friends at Madonna House.

I had only one disappointment—I was away for the feast days of the great St. Augustine and his mother St. Monica. They follow one after the other in August, with the mother coming first, of course! The story of Augustine’s slow conversion to faith is fascinating, but for me the real drama comes from Monica’s persistent prayer for him, answered at last in full measure

Today’s Gospel gives me a good reason to speak about St. Monica as a model for evangelization, especially in the family. Jesus says “This people honours me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me.” Compare that to what St. Augustine wrote about his mother: “You could feel God’s presence in her heart and her holy conversation gave rich proof of it.

“You could feel God’s presence in her heart.”  Isn’t that the exact opposite of what Jesus says about the scribes and Pharisees? They believed in what we call lip-service; not walking the talk.

The Psalm today says that those who speak the truth from their hearts will live with God. Again we hear the same message: our words have to flow from our inner selves, or they mean nothing before God.

The lessons we can learn from the Word of God today and from the example of St. Monica are crucial at a time when sharing our faith is an uphill climb. Parents wonder how to reach the children, students wonder how to be faithful in atheistic classrooms, and the workplace can be downright hostile to Christians.

The Bible gives us a powerful directive this morning: Faith is primarily something we do; talking comes later. St. James says it very simply: “be doers of the word, and not merely hearers.”

This has practical consequences.  Parents have to pass on the faith first by what they do, and only then by what they say. Faithfulness in attending Mass is worth more than all the catechism lessons in the world.

For the rest of us, priests included, we must make it possible for others to sense God present in our hearts. We must try to live so that people can recognize grace working in us.  Only then can our words—our holy conversation, as St. Augustine called it—have their full impact.

One of my high school teachers loved to say that faith is caught, not taught. He wasn’t knocking the teaching of faith—he was a religion teacher, after all; he was emphasizing that the only way to share truth effectively is by taking them on board ourselves. Our hearts must be where our words are.

This, of course, is the reason the Archdiocese fought so hard to protect our right to insist that Catholic school teachers are faithful not only in the classroom but in their personal lives. The 1984 Supreme Court of Canada decision affirming that right is the most precious possession of our school system, more valuable than all the school buildings put together

Most of us—especially preachers—can probably talk about the faith better than we can live it. Jesus doesn’t want to make us feel like hypocrites every time we open our mouth on the subject. But his tough words are a challenge to put flesh on our words by walking the talk with generosity and courage.

In particular, today’s Gospel invites us to a reality check about any areas of our lives where what we believe in our head doesn’t square with what’s going on in our heart. Anyone taking a driving lesson learns about blind spots in the mirror; Christians can have them in their hearts, and they’re just as dangerous.

I want to close with a word of warning: today’s readings call us to square our actions with our words, but they don’t excuse a failure to share with words when the time is right. It’s true that flawless Christian living will attract people to Christ, but until we reach that point, we need to talk to them also.

Next week we’ll talk about our Fall Alpha course that begins this month. Non-Catholic family and friends will only know about this exciting program if you tell them. So start thinking about who you can invite, and about coming with them to Alpha as a way of putting your own faith into action. 

Putting Faith First in the Family

What a sad story.  People who walked and talked with Jesus turned away from him when he offered them the greatest gift of all—his flesh and blood.  They couldn’t accept what he wanted to give.

It’s not our story.  If we thought the Eucharist sounded suspiciously like cannibalism, we wouldn’t be at Mass this morning.  We’d be happily reading the Sunday paper and shaking our heads as the oddball neighbours headed off to church.

Our problem is different.  We accept what Jesus says, but we do not always give it the first place in our lives.

Let me give you an example of what it means to put faith in first place. In my first parish there was an elderly widow at Mass each morning, Mrs. Schmidt. One day the pastor pointed her out, and said “there is a woman of the deepest faith.”  When I asked why, he told me that when her husband collapsed in their kitchen, she knelt beside him and said “Hans, make an act of contrition to the good Lord” before she called 911. Her concern for his immortal soul came ahead of her concern for his mortal body.

Even as I tell the story, I wonder what I would have said had I been the husband—something like, “will you just hurry up and call the ambulance!”

But this was a woman who understood the bottom line of St. Paul’s teaching on marriage that we’ve heard this morning. Marriage is essentially a spiritual project, and job number one is the salvation of both spouses, each helping the other.

And of course when the marriage produces children, another vocation comes into being—the salvation of the children. I will never forget the example of my friend Leone Young: faced with the terminal illnesses of two of her adult sons, she showed more concern for their spiritual welfare than their physical health.  She accepted their eventual deaths because she was serene in knowing they were strong in the Lord.

We might ask whether we are as concerned for the soul of our children as we are for their success in the world.  I heard a psychologist on the radio say that his number one technique is convincing parents to junk half the stuff their kids are doing.  Just this week a friend told me about a summer camp her son had attended.  It was one of these specialized “computer camps.”  The big selling point was the words “No recreation”!  They were promising that it would be all business.

Again, do we realize—in practice, not in theory—that the spiritual welfare of our children, even adult children, is more important than their success in school or in sports or in business?  Are we as dismayed when children lose the faith as we are when they lose a job?

This week we celebrate the feast days of a mother and son who are two of the most fascinating people in history—and two of the most fascinating people in heaven. Their names are Monica and Augustine.  Monica’s feast is tomorrow, Augustine’s is on Tuesday—notice that the mother comes first!

The son is one of the towering figures of Christian history, one of the greatest minds the Church has ever seen. His writings have shaped theology to this very day and his autobiography is one of the classics of world literature. The story of his conversion from lust-filled paganism is one of the most gripping stories ever told.

The mother, by contrast, is just a minor footnote to Christian history.  She wrote nothing that we know of, and the few words of hers we have came from Augustine’s pen.

Except for this: the son would never have become a saint but for the mother.

How do we know this?  First because he tells us so.  He says Monica “brought me forth from her flesh to birth in this in this temporal light, and from her heart to birth in light eternal.”

Augustine’s most famous lines still echo sixteen hundred years after they were written: “Late have I loved you, beauty ever-ancient, ever new.  Late have I loved you.” But late though he was in turning to God his Saviour, it would not have happened at all if Monica had not loved him… and loved him in a way that put his spiritual welfare first.

Because nothing but the power of prayer can explain Augustine’s journey, first from pagan philosopher, then to Christian thinker, next from a believer ensnared by his own flesh, and finally to the freedom of surrender to God’s will.  He was the toughest of tough cases.  But through it all his mother prayed and prayed and prayed some more, even when he seemed beyond reach.

Monica thus becomes a model and an intercessor, and a source of lasting hope, for the countless Catholic parents who are stunned at their adult children leaving the faith.  No so-called lapsed Catholic has had a journey back half the length of Augustine’s, and no grieving parent should ever stop praying for their children who have turned away from Christ.

Augustine himself reminds us that his mother needed not only faith but patience: “she expected to see me washed in the saving waters of baptism… and she rejoiced that her prayers were beginning to be answered and your promises with regard to my faith fulfilled.”

But we would not grasp the exquisite beauty of the relationship between Augustine’s faith and Monica’s love if we stopped there.  For once he was baptized, they strengthened one another by sharing faith.

His account of their final days together describes a meeting of hearts in spiritual conversation.  In he put it, “our talk that day seemed to make the world with all its charms grow cheap.”

Thus Augustine and Monica remind us how important it is that families share faith, that they talk about holy things.

Long before that mystical conversation, the mother was free in speaking about her own spiritual and moral struggles.  Augustine learned directly from her about his mother’s early problem with alcohol, and learned that it was God who cured her from what he called “that sly sickness.”  It’s a wonderful example of how parents—at an appropriate time—can teach their adult children by sharing their own stories, honestly acknowledging their difficulties.

Monica’s clear sense of her life’s mission strengthened her to the end.  As she lay dying at Ostia, she said “I find pleasure no longer in anything this life holds,” she said. One thing only kept me here—to see you a Catholic Christian before I died.  And this my God has granted to me more lavishly than I could ever have hoped… What now keeps me here?”

Her final words should also instruct children in the lasting duty they owe parents who have gone before them in faith.  When Augustine’s brother said that they would not bury her in a foreign country—she was from North Africa, not Rome—she replied “What nonsense: lay this body anywhere. One thing only I ask you: that wherever you are, you remember me at the altar of the Lord.”  Prayer for deceased parents is an obligation that no child, however old, should forget.

It’s not easy living on earth with one eye always on heaven. But that’s just what Jesus asks us to do, strengthened by the heavenly gift of his Body and Blood.  It’s not easy to put spiritual success—another word for salvation—ahead of every other accomplishment.

But anything else is illogical, if we believe. Where else can we place our lasting hope?  “Lord, you have the words of everlasting life.” Let’s make Peter’s reply our own.  Let’s not only accept Christ’s words, let’s make them the source of our number one mission on earth—working for our salvation, and the salvation of those we love.

The Eucharist and the Examined Life (Sunday 20.B)

Every Sunday this month we listen to Jesus teach about his Body and Blood. These four passages from the sixth chapter of John’s Gospel almost make summertime preaching a breeze, because it’s easy to talk about how wonderful it is to receive the Bread of Life.

But Christian truth and Catholic faith are never quite that simple. On the first Sunday of August, we heard the people listening to Jesus respond “Sir, give us that bread always.” For the rest of the month, we hear them complain. After their initial enthusiasm, the full impact of what Jesus says about the Bread of Heaven becomes too hard to swallow. When this cycle of readings ends next Sunday, you’ll see that many are driven away by what Jesus taught.

It is not easy to look beyond the appearance of bread and wine to see the Real Presence of Jesus. It’s the teaching that most sets Catholics apart from other Christians: on this subject, we’re the true “fundamentalists,” taking Jesus literally in all he says about his flesh and blood.

The great preacher Father Raniero Cantalamessa asks a great question in connection with today’s readings: why not bread and water? That would certainly have pointed to suffering, an important aspect of the Eucharist, which is united with Christ’s sufferings and with ours.

But Jesus did something a bit less obvious.  Wine does indicate suffering—the grapes are pressed, crushed as He was. But wine also represents joy and celebration—as Father Cantalamessa says, we toast with wine, not water.  Yes, there’s pain in the Eucharist—all the pain in the world.  But it is pain redeemed by Christ, something to rejoice over.

And by choosing wine in his infinite wisdom, Jesus took a risk.  Wine can be abused.  So can the Eucharist.  There is no membership card required to enter the Church, as the Mormons have.  Only the most public of sinners can be turned away by the priest. For the rest: it is between the communicant and God. The responsibility is chiefly ours.

But what a grave responsibility! In his First Letter to the Corinthians, St. Paul warns that those who eat the bread or drink the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner eat and drink judgment on themselves. This is a very serious matter.

Wine is a wonderful thing; but if we abuse it, we suffer mentally and physically.  The Body and Blood of Christ is infinitely more wonderful; but if we receive it thoughtlessly or unworthily, the consequences can be worse still.

This doesn’t mean we receive Communion with fear.  St. Paul simply says “Examine yourselves, and only then eat of the bread and drink of the cup.”

I suspect we have started to forget this important truth.  In the days when people did not routinely receive every Sunday, or when they confessed every Saturday, an examination of conscience came naturally.  Now, perhaps we’ve all but forgotten the need to make a mental check before receiving Communion.  Is there a grave sin that I have not confessed?  If there is, I should not receive.

Now this teaching must be understood properly: if we have a genuine doubt that a certain sin was grave—perhaps there was something to lessen our freedom or responsibility—we may still approach the Lord’s Table.  But the doubt should be real, not just an excuse.

And I’m not suggesting that the middle of Mass is the ideal time to judge whether we should be receiving the Eucharist. Christian maturity requires regularly examining ourselves. “Lay aside immaturity, and live, and walk in the way of insight,” our first reading says, offering a simple formula for growth in the Christian life.

The way of insight requires self-examination—not only as a preparation for Confession and Communion, but to make wise decisions in daily life. As the great Socrates told the ancient Greeks, “the unexamined life is not worth living.”

Receiving the Eucharist worthily requires knowing ourselves. But even more, it requires knowing Jesus and accepting all He has taught us about this great Sacrament. We must never take it for granted, which is why the Church offers us this intense refresher course every three years.

“This teaching is difficult,” some disciples say to Jesus in next week’s Gospel. “Who can accept it?”

The answer, of course, is “we can.” We can accept it if we live wisely and well, if we know ourselves and our calling, and if we hear and accept exactly what Jesus teaches and promises in this fundamental discourse on the Bread of Life. 

But you haven’t been able to listen carefully to Him on these warm August Sundays, open your Bible at the sixth chapter of John and read it through—someplace with air-conditioning!

Food for the Journey (19.B)

I’m sure most of you noticed on Friday that the B.C. Courtof Appeal upheld the so-called “right to die” of a woman in the Okanagan.

You won’t catch me preaching on the right to die, simply because almost every Catholic already understands that there is no such right, and that both suicide and euthanasia are gravely wrong

But what about something a little closer to home? Have you ever heard an elderly friend or relative say they wished they could die? Have you ever said it yourself?

At first glance, it seems a terrible thing to think or say. Yet in the first reading we just heard Elijah ask God that he might die, and God doesn’t seem to get upset with him. So what is the Christian view of wishing for death—is it wrong?

I have a book that gives an answer—a six and a half page answer, to be exact.   Since it takes Dr. Germain Grisez, a respected moral theologian, that long to respond to the question, I sure won’t succeed in the length of a homily. But in short, he says “yes and no.”*

Yes, it is wrong to wish for death ”by accepting and endorsing an unreasonable emotional desire to die.” If one judges that life isn’t worth living, and that pain is to be escaped at all costs, one “commits suicide in one’s heart,” Dr. Grisez says. Too much thinking of this sort can lead to neglect of our health or even to actual suicide.

But no, it is not wrong when we wish principally for life, but as part of our wish for life we welcome death also, as the gateway to the life to come. In this sense, “every faithful Christian, hoping for heaven, rightly wishes for death.” With this attitude, we can forego useless medical treatments or measures that prolong life unduly.

It is also quite acceptable for the terminally ill to seek adequate relief from pain, even at the risk of shortening life. Many of those who advocate euthanasia are unaware of the advances in palliative care in recent years, which have done a great deal to help people die without undue suffering

Sometimes, though,  the elderly or the sick desire death because they think there is nothing left for them to do on earth. Elijah felt like that—he’d done his best, and his best wasn’t good enough. Israel had turned against God despite his zealous preaching, and he was the only prophet who hadn’t been killed. What was left but to lie down and die?

Yet if you read to the end of the story, after the Lord restores his strength, Elijah heads to Mount Horeb for one of the closest encounters man has even had with God. He carries on his mission, anoints a new king for Israel, and finds a suitable successor in Elisha.

Whether we’re depressed or just plain old discouraged, it’s very easy to confuse how we feel today with what God has lined up for us tomorrow. To quote Germain Grisez again “God is a loving Father who always knows what is best for us. We would not remain alive if there were no good reason for us to be here.”

Today I want to suggest one of the best of all reasons for us to be here—because healthy or sick, happy or sad, we are able to eat the Bread of Life.

And that includes those who can’t come to church. I’ve never directed a Sunday homily to our parishioners who are housebound or in care facilities. But today I’m thinking very specially of them—this small group who eat the living Bread each week without being able to gather with us around the Lord’s Table

By receiving Holy Communion every week, these men and women can find meaning and purpose, even when they can no longer do the things they once did for others—and what a lot of good they can do for the rest of us, who are too busy sometimes to look beyond the Bread we eat to see the Saviour It has become!

United to the Lord in the Eucharist, they pray not only with us, but for us

We talk a lot about Sunday Mass being the high point of our week. But it’s hard—we’re in such a rush to get to church and to get out again. Those who are forced by circumstances to accept a quieter pace can spend time with the Lord after they have received Him at one of the nursing home Masses or during a Friday visit from Father Xavier, myself, or one of our Extraordinary Ministers of Holy Communion

Speaking of those dedicated Extraordinary Ministers, it’s time to say something about the service they provide our elderly and sick parishioners. Week in, week out, and in some cases over many years, they bring the Bread of Life faithfully and devoutly.

 In many cases, their ministry not only sustains people in pain or old age, it helps them prepare properly for death.  No doubt you all believed when you heard Jesus say in today’s Gospel “whoever eats of this bread will live forever.” But you can be sure his words “one may eat of it and not die” have an extra-special message for those whose natural lives are drawing to a close.

We must be grateful to our Extraordinary Ministers, these unsung heroes who so generously assist the priests in sharing the Bread of Life beyond the walls of our parish church. Just as important, we should ask whether our faith in this Sacrament is as strong as theirs—for surely their weekly sacrifice of time and energy demonstrates a very strong faith in the Eucharist and its saving power.

Let’s remind ourselves often of those worshippers who are the active part of our parish family that we do not often see. Jesus comes to them in the Blessed Sacrament every week as a sign of His faithfulness to all of us; their faith gives us an example of perseverance and trust.

We are called into a union of prayer with our parishioners who are sick or confined to home; that unity should be strengthened every time we eat the Bread of Life.  And like them, and like Elijah, we should trust that God will sustain us too, in all of life’s difficulties.

____________________

* Germain Grisez, Difficult Moral Questions, vol. 3, 196-202.

More on "Gay"

In a footnote to my most recent post, the homily in which I talked about what the Church teaches on same-sex attraction, I mentioned that I was not comfortable using the term "gay" in this context. I did so in the homily only because people I was quoting used it; and one of them--Steve Gershom--explained that he wasn't that comfortable with the term, either, although he uses it.

Yesterday I had a very helpful e-mail from a bishop friend that pointed me to a post on the First Things Blog by a writer with SSA who does not want to call himself “gay”. The author, Daniel Mattson, talks helpfully about the terminology issue. His article also mentions yet another blog offering an authentically Catholic perspective on living chastely with SSA. You can take a look at that blog here.

I agree wholeheartedly with Mr. Mattson, who thinks it is much better to speak of a Catholic man or woman (or of oneself) as having same-sex attraction or being same-sex attracted rather than being gay.

These websites also lead one to other internet articles that provide perspective and encouragement to those with SSA, and information to those who are still trying to understand Church teaching and the blessings it offers to those who accept it.

I'm grateful to the encouraging folks who have kindly let me know they were pleased by the homily. I'm glad it was helpful and that I was able to navigate perilous shoals with causing unnecessary offense. That was my goal.

That reminds me: since my homily had a specific focus, it didn't offer a "shout-out" (as my younger parishioners say) to Courage, the fine support group for Catholics with SSA founded by the late Father John Harvey (with encouragement from my friend Father Benedict Groeschel, whose book "The Courage to be Chaste" has become something of a classic guide and which is still in print). Courage has chapters in many dioceses, including ours, and a resource-rich website.

And while we're at it... Seems a day doesn't go by lately without someone telling me about one new website or another aimed at helping people live a chaste life, whether they have SSA or not. In an earlier post I mentioned mentioned Reclaim, the program for those with sexual addiction(s), and now can add the Angelic Warfare Confraternity (scary name, but it's a scary world), which is a Dominican apostolate under the patronage of St. Thomas Aquinas, offering spiritual help to those seeking to live more chaste lives. I've also been pointed to Chastity.org, which seems to be aimed particularly at young people.

Where sin abounds, grace abounds all the more... As my friend Father Joe Hattie would say, "Yay, God!"