“You’re more than just a sexual orientation”

During the youth rally I just attended in Midland, Ont., we young people were giving the opportunity to celebrate the sacrament of reconciliation outdoors. There was no confessional or screen behind which to hide. Imagine a row of about 15 chairs set up, with the line extending beyond that for about 30 or 40 people. The turnout for the sacrament was inspiring and amazing. I guess young Catholics today are just as concerned about remaining in a state of grace as ever.

When my turn came, I walked over to a picnic table where a priest was patiently waiting for me. This was in plain sight of everyone in line, so I gulped, crossed myself, and made sure I didn’t speak too loudly lest someone hear all my peccadilloes.

I suppose I will have to confess some sins to the reader of this post if I am to continue writing. It had to do with a violation of the Sixth Commandment, “Thou shalt not commit adultery” or in Latin, “Non mœchaberis.” Once I finished, the priest told me to pray for all the people that I love. This, I was told, was going to help me realize that I love more than one person, that I’m not just a narrow sexual orientation.

It’s with these words that I’ve struggled for some time now. What exactly do Catholics mean when they tell homosexuals that they are more than their sexual orientation?

I do realize they are trying to promote a holistic view of the human person. A human being is not just his sexuality, or his intellect, or his skin colour, etc. He is a creation, body, soul, mind and spirit, endowed with dignity, trying to get in touch with his Creator, i.e. God.

But to say that men who struggle with same-sex attractions are more than their sexuality seems a bit dismissive to me. It is as if this priest was telling me to forget completely about this struggle with my attraction to men. But without a proper sense of sexuality in his life, how is a gay man supposed to live completely a life in Christ? Without that sexual component in his life, it would seem that the Roman Catholic Church is telling all gay men that they must live a life of chaste celibacy with no other alternatives (though some debate whether or not you can stop having same-sex attractions).

This upsets me, but it is something about which I continually pray and hope to understand more clearly. It just irks me that heterosexual people have the option of expressing themselves in a sexual relationship within the context of marriage, yet for homosexual people our sexuality is a cross to be bore silently.

Modesty

This past weekend I just attended a great youth rally up by the Martyrs’ Shrine in Midland, Ont. It’s the birthplace of Canadian Catholicism, where the first Jesuits set up camp and evangelized to the natives.

The first thing I noticed was the peaceful atmosphere surrounding the shrine grounds. Not a single car horn could be heard, and lots of beautiful trees surrounded us. It was definitely the ideal setting to deepen one’s prayer life.

The second thing that struck me was the historical significance of this site. Almost 400 years ago, the famous Jesuit St. Jean de Brébeuf and his companions arrived here in order to spread the Good News. Part of Brébeuf’s skull is even housed in an ornate reliquary in the shrine! While kneeling before such a memento Dei, I definitely felt a bit closer to my forefathers in the faith, those who have gone before me and who I hope will greet me in the life to come.

Besides some fun activities (think “The Amazing Race” meets church picnic, with inflatable obstacle courses and sumo wrestling suits included) we had a catechesis session with Auxiliary Bishop Gerard Bergie from the diocese of Hamilton about the “dictatorship of relativism” as B16 put it.

But the thing that struck me the most was the behaviour of young people at Mass. We are an amalgamation of all the different views in Catholic circles. There were the traditionalists, who kneeled on a prie-dieu before the tabernacle to pray and received communion in the mouth, and then there were the more “spirit of the Second Vatican Council” types who just plopped down in their pews and talked while waiting for Mass to begin.

I would consider our youth group a middle ground between the two. Our group was probably one of the only ones who genuflected before sitting down in our pews, and we also sat down after Mass to say some prayers of thanksgiving while everyone else hurried out of the church.

One thing that upset me was the lack of respect shown during Mass. I do realize we were roughing it in tents outdoors, that most of us were wearing t-shirts and shorts, and that it was a sticky, humid weekend, but I was shocked to see some girls wearing shorts that would never be worn in any Catholic school, let alone any other one, to the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. I believe ALL schools have a rule for girls that says shorts and skirts would extend below their fingertips when their hands are placed at their sides. But despite that wardrobe mishap, the Mass was beautifully sung by the band St. Jude United. I give them props for helping us to get into more of a worshipful mood with their singing all weekend.

Please pray that the spirit of modesty might prevail over fleshy fashion in our world.  +

What Not to Wear

A sign posted in front of a church really opened my eyes. I wish I had taken a picture of it. Basically it was a sign about what’s suitable to wear at Mass. It had pictures of shorts, tank tops, miniskirts, etc. with red prohibition signs laid on top of these offensive clothing items. The sign asked those attending Mass to respect this solemn occasion by dressing modestly and not slovenly.

The ironic thing was I was wearing jeans and a t-shirt as I read this sign. Maybe the sign has a point. Maybe we ought to dress up a bit more. Though Christ’s first followers certainly weren’t dandies, and though Christ loves us even if we’re in our skivvies, I do think there is some value to wearing a nice shirt and some pants to worship our Lord. It shows Him we care.

Let’s take a walk

The title of this post is what my pastor said to me when I met with him this morning. The topic of our conversation? The priesthood.

I had expected an intense, long sit-down in the rectory, but instead Fr. __ decided it would be best to take a walk to the nearest Tim Horton’s chain and grab a coffee, or in my case, a hot chocolate (I’m not much of a coffee drinker).

I’m kind of relieved we had this talk. Finally. It’s about time! But I have to admit I’ve always been sheepish around him. He’s a sportsy kinda guy. He goes to football games, actually watched the World Cup games, and watches hockey almost as religiously as he says Mass.

I, on the other hand, love Lady Gaga, read about art, listen to baroque music, play the flute, and love singing and dancing. Now can you understand my hesitance to approach this parish priest to talk about whether I’d be a suitable candidate to go to the seminary?

We started with some small-chat: what I’m studying in university, my family, how long I’ve been at the parish, etc. But then we moved onto talking about what it’s like to live celibately, the fact that secular priests are allowed to own things, like cottages and Rolls Royces. Overall I’d say I felt like I knew the guy a bit better. Fr. ___ is a very great and simple man. In comparison, I don’t quite fit in with him.

But I think talking with him has made me realize the need to reach out to other people. After all, it’s often through other people that Christ speaks to us the most clearly. Though I’m still waiting for an apparition of Our Lady to tell me to go to the seminary, I think getting to know more people in the community and befriending more Catholics will help me decide if this is the kind of life I could envision myself taking on, a life of prayer, self-sacrifice, and most of all, service. Ad majorem Dei gloriam +.

Youth group

I was perusing my Facebook updates listings, one of the seemingly only ways I can keep track of what everyone’s up to these days, when I noticed there were photos from my parish’s youth group. But there was something wrong with these photos that were just posted 17 minutes ago–I was missing from them!

I blinked in wonder. Then I clicked on the photo album. There were pictures of everyone playing soccer, everyone else in the Passion play, everyone else standing under the tree. Part of me felt a bit sad that I wasn’t in any of these pictures.

Was I invited to these events but couldn’t come because of prior obligations? Perhaps. Maybe I was working those nights. Or maybe these are excuses I’m using to justify the fact that I felt left out.

Just recently I’ve come to the conclusion that I may have an acute case of SAD. No, not Season Affective Disorder, but Social Anxiety Disorder. Often people with SAD have trouble forming close relationships, and they find social situations draining or stressful.

I think everyone feels a bit nervous when meeting someone new the first time, but I know for a fact I have SAD. There’s my nervous giggle, and the inevitable sweat beading down my forehead as I engage someone new in conversation. I generally don’t feel at ease giving a class presentation or doing anything remotely social.

My shyness can even be traced back to when I was a kid. But why these youth group photos struck me so much confounds me still. Maybe it’s because I was hoping to make some friends who would share similar values. And for someone who’s considering becoming a priest, that can be VERY difficult.

Parish crush

For all you church-goers out there, have you ever had a crush on a fellow parishioner (or maybe even a member of the clergy) and became paralyzed with fear? Why am I thinking this at church? Oh dear, I’m SO going to Hell for this thought. Jesus, please forgive me, but ___ is just sooo cute!

That’s exactly the thought I had today. I won’t say his name for confidentiality’s sake, but whenever I see him I just become nervous. And he’s just so laid-back and cool about everything…and he has the jawline of an Adonis!

OK, OK, this blog is not meant to be an online textual ejaculation of my hormonal yearnings, but it’s just not fair. I recently gave him my number, and he texted me with a wink emoticon   …needless to say, it drove me nuts lol.

Thing is, he’s most likely straight. And Mass is REALLY not the place to be thinking about such things.

And so I remain a J. Alfred Prufrock, unable to act on my desires. The flames of passion might eventually be extinguished. Maybe I’ll follow this entry with one about lust, and the different ways saints have gone about overcoming this type of sin.

Prodigality, 4th Sunday of Lent, Year C

Dictionary.com has this citation:

prodigal-adj. -1) Wastefully or recklessly extravagant.
noun. 1) A person who spends, or has spent, his or her money or substance with wasteful extravagance; spendthrift.

Origin: [Middle English prodigalite, from Old French, from Late Latin prōdigālitās, from Latin prōdigus, prodigal, from prōdigere, drive away, to squander : prōd-, prō-, for, forth; see proud + agere, to drive; see ag- in Indo-European roots.]

It is with this definition in mind that we listen to this parable of Jesus in St. Luke’s gospel.

Fr. Robert Barron of Word on Fire fame said that everything one needs to know about the spiritual life is contained herein. I would have to say I agree.

Whenever priests or deacons deliver their homily about this parable, they resort to a sort of Ignatian relation to the text. They insert themselves or ask the parishioners to insert themselves into the story, to see with which person they identify with the most: is it the prodigal son, who has returned home after living a life of sin to ask for forgiveness?; the merciful father who runs up to the son to embrace him and celebrate?; or the grumbling older brother who becomes enraged that he does not receive the same treatment despite all his years of filial service?. Maybe you might even identify with the fatted calves who are slaughtered for the celebration! Either way, most preachers find some meaning by putting themselves in this situation.

Another thing often included in homilies about this passage is the fact that the ending is not known. Readers are left wondering whether the older son joined in the celebration, or whether he decided to remain angry with his brother and refused to join his father. Again, this leads us to question what we would do in such a case.

I think this parable is so widely enjoyed because we can all relate to each character in some way or another. Some days you might feel like the father who is kind and celebrating the repentance of someone in sin. Other days you might feel like the prodigal son, asking God for forgiveness and receiving it in abundance.

I think what Fr. Barron means when he says this parable can give one guidance about the spiritual life is that all we have to do is trust in God’s mercy. After all, the prodigal son must have returned home with some expectation of his father’s mercy. There must have been an inkling in his mind that convinced him he would be well-received at home compared to the way he was being treated in the Gentile town he was in.

In the same way, we ought to trust in God’s mercy whenever we sin. And yes, we do sin. But what’s important is that we come to our senses, just as the son did, and return home, to the Church that Christ founded for us, where God is waiting for us especially.

This is not to say we should become morally lax and presuppose God’s forgiveness. That, indeed, would also be an error.

But just as importantly we need not fear God’s wrath. “Don’t be afraid,” Jesus often tells the people of Judea. And he’s right. We should not think of God as a mercurial tyrant. He is not like the pagan gods, but rather much better, much more merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in mercy.