image During last week’s homily, Bishop Gumbleton of St. Leo’s parish in Detroit had the following to share with us in respect to the failure to fully understand the entirety of Jesus’ message as relayed through the Gospels:

Another example that comes to my mind where we seem to be on the wrong side, not understanding how we’re supposed to be identified with the oppressed, those treated with injustice, those treated with violence: The bishop of Madison, Wisconsin, Bishop Robert Morlino, I’ve read this recently, has joined the board of the School of the Americas. The School of the Americas, you know what that is? That’s the place where our military train military from throughout Latin America to train their leaders. This past week, Nov. 16, was the anniversary of the six Jesuits and the two women who were murdered in 1989 by graduates of the Schools of the Americas. Yet here is a bishop who is going to be on the board of that school, accepting and condoning what they’re doing as they continue to train military leaders who carry out torture just as our military carries out torture. Where would Jesus be? He would be the tortured one, the murdered one not the one who’s doing it. That’s so obvious. How could we ever miss it?

I find it very distressing, on the front page of the Michigan Catholic this week, there is a picture of a military chaplain celebrating Mass dressed in an Army uniform, dressed as one going into combat. Can you think of Jesus being dressed in a military uniform of the Roman Empire or even being a chaplain to the military of the Roman Empire, condoning what they were doing? Yet that is what we do. That is all because we haven’t understood what it means to be a king according to the way of Jesus.

What Bishop Gumbleton stated could not be further from the truth.  I was unfortunate enough to experience what a failure Catholics can be in their pursuit of embodying the words and works of Jesus.  The experience was both enlightening and disheartening.

The inside of St. John’s Cathedral in Boise, Idaho was beautiful.  Somewhat smaller than St. Mary’s Cathedral in Portland, it still maintained a beauty that beckons from all those who attend deep meditation and even deeper spiritual commitment.  Taking a break from the road to crawl into the deep recesses of my mind was certainly welcome on the morning of October 8.  The choral music filled the recesses of the arched cathedral as mass proceeded.  I began to sink into the familiar haze that accompanies meaningful thought, but something did not, or could not, take root.  There was strangeness in the air and we all could sense it.

Prior to mass beginning, the presiding priest made an announcement, out of respect and honor for their service, that quite a few veterans of World War II were in attendance.  The mass proceeded from that point as normal.  The homily proved to be free of moral lesson and devoid of any true deep introspection.  As the Prayers of the Faithful began, the mass began its turn toward the surreal.  Out of the seven or so prayers, at least half concerned our military serving in Iraq yet none mentioned peace in Iraq or the continued suffering of the Iraqi people.  I was puzzled that the military could be mentioned and yet those affected by our military presence were notably missing.  Who is really suffering there?  Who are the ones that need the help of the American people and the world at large?  In addition, a mere 24 hours or so before, the Asian earthquake hit and unleashed overwhelming death and destruction, yet there was no mention of their suffering.  My family and I were noticeably upset at the obvious nationalism that seemed to be creeping out of this sacred space, and we had yet to experience the worst of the mass.

After the celebration of the Eucharist ended, the congregants sat back down from the kneelers.  The celebrant stood and, to me, seemed to begin the parish announcements.  I was mistaken, however.  The next few moments nearly broke my faith in the work of the Church.  The celebrant began a speech, which evolved into more of a rant, about the state of the United States in its war on Iraq and the global war on terrorism.  What seemed like a more patriotic mass reared its sickening, ugly head into pure nationalism.  The priest even went as far as to chastise the futility of being anti-war by belittling the “movement.” The congregation stood in applause as he praised our military.  My wife, always the reactionary, sat while everyone else beside us stood and then promptly grabbed our belongings and proceeded to leave the mass.  As we rushed out of the cathedral, we were met by a cadre of honor guard prepared to march down the center aisle in complete defiance of the Crucifix that hung from above the dais.  Apparently the bubble of intellectual liberalism in “godless” Portland molded even the stoic Catholic Church.

My faith in the Church is still fragile as a result of what happened in Boise.  The Midwest Catholic Church, as of yet, has been no help in reviving my joy in theological discourse in the context of the Catholic Church.  How can a church so broad and expansive remain so myopic?  How can a church based on the teachings of an anti-corporate, anti-nationalist, and anti-war revolutionary Jew allow such a blatant display of blind war mongering?  How can the Catholic Church fail in its own mission to bring peace?  How can the Church fail us?

In reflection, a segment of today’s first reading:

Et nunc Domine pater noster es tu nos vero lutum et fictor noster et opera manuum tuarum omnes nos; And now, O Lord, thou art our father, and we are clay: and thou art our maker, and we all are the works of thy hands. (Isaiah 64:8)

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