Loving Good, Hating Evil

Once two brothers were sitting with Abbot Poemen, and one praised the other brother saying:  "He is a good brother, he hates evil." 

Father Abbot asked:  "What do you mean he hates evil?"

And the brother did not know what to reply.  So he said:  "Tell me, father, what is it to hate evil?"

The father said:  "That man hates evil who hates his own sins, and looks upon every brother as a saint, and loves him as a saint."

(Celtic Daily Prayer, Aidan Readings for June 27th, p. 430)

In the past week we have had the opportunity to watch the spectacle of people opining on the recent Supreme Court decision regarding the Affordable Care Act.  As with most political theatre, each side demonizes the other, accusing them of every sort of evil.  There is never any attempt to see the good in the other, because it is more important in this arena to win over the other side, using whatever means necessary to do so. 

On a more local level, I had the opportunity to meet with a parish and neighborhood group on a project proposed for a particular area of the city.  Many people came, and that was good.  A number of folks were not willing to accept an apology for past missteps, and the same number could find no good whatsoever in the diocese or its leader.  It was more important to score the victory rather than find the solution to the problem. 

These events of the past week reminded me of a time as an undergraduate when we were studying for our final examination in Medieval Philosophy.  Most of the members of our study group were not philosophy majors, so the course itself was a challenge.  The few of us who were philosophy majors did our best to help those who were not.  As we were reviewing a particular argument of St. Augustine, one of my fellow philosophy majors wanted to debate whether or not Augustine was right or not on the particular point.  My reply to him was that it was our task to first understand what Augustine was saying, to see if we fully grasp what he was saying in the text at hand.  Once we do that, then we can turn to the question of whether the argument has merit or not.

Very often we fail in the most elementary aspect of philosophy and human interaction:  we do not listen to one another, and we do not seek to truly understand what someone else is saying.  We seek to ascribe the most malevolent intentions and interpretations of what another is saying in order to justify our own positions.  In the medieval world the interlocutors employed a device known as "pious interpretation" to evaluating the argument of another.  This device meant that we attempt to give the best possible meaning to what another is saying in order to be most fair to the other engaged in conversation with us.  While this method may be unfair in the other direction of evaluation, it nonetheless captures well the point of the anecdote that began this reflection.

God has given us only one conscience for which we are qualified to examine and that is our own.  And very often we do not do very well at examining the one to which we have sole competence to evaluate.  Still, it is only in the realm of our own conscience where we can condemn evil with certitude.  How different the world would be if we critiqued our own selves and regarded everyone else in the best possible light. 

In the Ignatian exercise of the particular examen, we are encouraged to regard ourselves twice per day.  At the beginning of the day we look ahead to the day before us.  We examine our schedule of events and discern what God calls us to do in each moment of the day, making the commitment to be a faithful follower of the Lord Jesus in all things.  At the end of the day, we are to review our past day and the resolutions we made earlier for each moment of that day.  We then give thanks to God for the moments of success and fidelity, and we beg his pardon for those moments of failure and infidelity, once again resolving for the next day to walk ever more closely and faithfully with the Lord Jesus. 

If we remain faithful to this schedule of morning and evening examination, we will achieve the aim of father abbot's advice above, and we wil transcend the culture of critique that only leads to hatred of others, conflict, and war. 

Boston, Dallas, Philadelphia and Beyond...

God gave the Israelites a law, one that could be boiled down to two simple precepts:  love God above all things, and love your neighbor as yourself.  Jesus did not change this law in any way.  Rather, he gave greater clarity to who is my neighbor and the extent to which I should love that neighbor to include my enemies and to love all in the way Jesus himself loved us. 

During Israel's history prior to the coming of Jesus, the nation was reckoned by its adherence to these two fundamental precepts:  love God, love neighbor.  When Israel strayed from these precepts either through idolatry in replacing God with another deity or none at all, or when they committed acts of injustice against their neighbors both individually and collectively, God would send prophets to Israel in order to bring the nation to conversion.  In short, God provided many opportunities for self-correction within the nation through the ministry of the prophets. 

When the prophets were ignored, very often it would take invasion and occupation by foreign powers to bring Israel back to its senses.  The inhabitants of Israel would be subject to violence, loss of property, and exile in a foreign land because they followed the faithless leaders into idolatry and injustice in spite of the fact that they knew better.  They had the law and the prophets, as Jesus said.  Why should they believe if someone were to be raised from the dead?

Indeed.

The Church regards herself as the new Israel, the inheritor of the promise of faith given to her by Jesus the Lord.  This faith has been entrusted to her and the new nation of the Church still has the same fundamental obligation as that of the old Israel:  love God, love your neighbor.  What is more, we have been given the means of grace through the example of Jesus and the sacramental celebrations that continually remind us of the love to which we are called in the death and resurrection of Jesus.  And yet, as the Second Vatican Council reminded us, very often we fail to measure up to the holiness to which we are called and others who have fewer means available to them are often shining examples of virtue since they use effectively the tools available to them better than us. 

And much like the history of Israel, the Church finds herself in times of corruption and in need of reform.  The high middle ages were filled with corruption in the Church, leading to the rupture within Western Christendom known as the Reformation.  Prior to that time there were prophets sent to the Church as a warning, as a voice calling her back to her groom Jesus the Lord - and those voices were not heard.  Instead, centuries of religious wars, polemic, and gradual abandonment of faith due to the scandal of it all finally led the Church to reform itself at the core.  It is both a sad commentary and yet a hopeful one when Richard John Neuhaus was received into the Catholic Church and ordained a priest in the 1980's he announced, "The Reformation is over, and it was a success."

In the past few decades we have witnessed with horror the sexual abuse scandal throughout the Church, first in the United States, and then in other nations:  Ireland, Belgium, Holland, Germany, Poland, and many other places.  In the U.S. we thought that after Boston and Dallas that the scandal was behind us and the reforms that were set in place were working - and in many places they have been working very well.  Then came Philadelphia and other places.  The nightmare has returned. 

The Church has had the opportunity to reform itself in this area, and again in many places she has - but in other places she has not.  Like Israel, perhaps it will take invasion and occupation by foreign powers to bring us to the wholesale conversion we so desperately need in order to protect children effectively.  No one wishes this fate upon the Church; no one except cynics cheer when such does indeed takes place. 

It is a great irony of Scripture that a man as vicious as Cyrus, king of Persia, would be regarded as a hero by the Hebrew Scriptures for delivering Israel from foreign occupation.  It is only now that we recognize the valid insights of the Reformers after vilifying them for so many years.  Perhaps we will one day see the hand of God in our own times - God calling us to a deep renewal and greater responsibility through unlikely and undesirable means.     

Tired of Farewells

Today saw two very good friends say goodbye to me and to others, the one a colleague at work, the other some one who has become a good friend in interfaith work in Kansas City. 

My workplace has seen a great many departures over the past year, and each time is more difficult than the one previous.  Today's departure has been the most difficult for me because I worked closely with this person and she became a very good friend in addition to a trusted colleague.  Her time at the diocese spanned seventeen years, a wealth of experience she shared with everyone who worked with her.  She is reamining in Kansas City and will use her many talents to help a fellow Catholic institution in the city.  The Church is fortunate to retain this talent in some way.

I've grown tired of saying goodbye to people who have left for clearly brighter shores and happier places of employment.  I've grown tired of losing friends whom I will no longer see on a daily basis, learn from, and share with.  And I've grown tired of the root cause of people leaving for greener pastures.  No doubt this sentiment is shared throughout the diocese regardless of one's spirituality, liturgical preference, or theological school.  At the end of the day what ails us is not about any of that.  The family is in pain and we need to heal.  We long for closure and resolution, but the dark clouds remain. 

In the midst of this pain, today's feast day and the second reading from the Office of Readings provides some consolation and comfort:  It is from a letter of Thomas More from prison to his daughter Margaret:  "I will not mistrust him, Meg, though I shall feel myself weakening and on the verge of being overcome with fear.  I shall remember how St. Peter at a blast of wind began to sink because of his lack of faith, and I shall do as he did:  call upon Christ and pray to him for help.  And then I trust he shall place his holy hand on me and in the stormy sea hold me up from drowning.  And if he permits me to play St. Peter further and to fall to the ground and to swear and forswear, may God our Lord in his tender mercy keep me from this, and let me lose if it so happen, and never win thereby.  Still, if this should happen, afterward I trust that in his goodness he will look on me with pity as he did upon St. Peter, and make me stand up again and confess the truth of my conscience afresh and endure here the shame and harm of my own flesh.  And finally, Margaret, I know this well:  that without my fault he will not let me be lost.  I shall, therefore, with good hope commit myself wholly to him.  And if he permits me to perish for my faults, then I shall serve as praise for his justice.  But in good faith, Meg, I trust that his tender pity shall keep my poor soul safe and make me commend his mercy."

The other goodbye today was Rabbi Alan Cohen, who has finally retired from full time ministry at Shalom and will move to Florida in order to enjoy his retirement.  I met Alan before I worked for the diocese, collaborating together on a few interfaith events at Tallgrass Creek when I worked at a parish there.  When I came to work for the diocese we continued our interfaith collaboration with Scott Myers, pastor of Westport Presbyterian Church.  Alan has taught me a great deal about the Jewish tradition and my own tradition.  What is more, he has taught me how to be an authentic human being in the midst of great difficulties and stresses in the work of ministry.  While it is sad to see Alan leave Kansas City for Florida, all can agree that he indeed deserves a restful retirement, having served so many people over so many years. 

To both my colleagues who are still friends but work elsewhere, and to Alan as he retires, we offer the blessing God gave Moses to speak:  "Speak to Aaron and his sons and tell them:  This is how you shall bless the Israelites.  Say to them:  'The Lord bless you and keep you!  The Lord let his face shine upon you, and be gracious to you!  The Lord look upon you kindly and give you peace!  So they shall invoke my name upon the Israelites, and I will bless them."  (Numbers 6: 22-27)

A Sense of Humor

The following is an expansion on comments I was asked to make at the graduation of Catechists for the Diocese of Kansas City-St. Joseph:

The lessons of tonight can all be derived from a funny anecdote of apocryphal origin:  The bishop was going about the diocese visiting parishes, and while at St. Therese North Parish in Parkville he came upon the confirmation class.  He decided to test the class to see what they knew, so he asked, "Can anyone tell me what a pectoral cross is?"  Not a single student answered.  Embarrassed, the pastor, Fr. Joe, was beside himself.  However, Fr. Joe knew that next week the bishop would be visiting Our Lady of Good Counsel Parish, so he called the pastor, Msgr. Blacet, to make sure his students knew what a pectoral cross is, so as not to incur the same embarrassment that befell him.

Not leaving anything to chance, Msgr. Blacet took it upon himself to make sure every one of his confirmandi knew the definition for a pectoral cross. 

The day arrived for the bishop's visit, and his excellency found his way to the confirmation class, which was primed and eagerly awaiting the question from the bishop.  The bishop asked, "Can anyone tell me what a monsignor is?"  Like a bolt, Johnny raised his hand and he was eager to answer, though not everyone was sure he heard the question.  However, the bishop quickly called on Johnny, saying, "OK, Johnny, please tell me what a monsignor is."  To which Johnny replied, "A monsignor is a large cross around the neck of a bishop."  The bishop laughed and gave Johnny full credit for the answer.

This story teaches us three important lessons about our studies and our future work in the ministry of the Church:

1.  Sometimes the question is more important than the answer.  Johnny was so focused on the answer he memorized that he didn't hear the question.  At the same time, his teacher was so focused on him knowing the answer to that one question that the class was not prepared for any other question.  God is infinite, we are finite.  There will always be more questions than answers, and each answer leads to a new question.  This is as it should be, for it preserves the mystery of God, as well as the relationship between Creator and creature.  So let's enjoy the questions and the discussions that arise from them.

2.  Sometimes you know the correct answer without realizing it.  Johnny's answer was designed for another question, though the bishop took great delight in the answers as it related to his question that day.  Still, Johnny went with what he knew, for he didn't know anything else, and sometimes that's OK.  Most of the time people want to know why you're Catholic, not why someone else is Catholic and who wrote a book about it.  Every one of us who professes to be Catholic needs to have their own answer for why they are so.  It's not an answer you'll find in a book.  So, while book learning is important, what's in your heart is more important, and more often than not people are looking for the latter, not the former.

3.  Don't take yourself too seriously.  No doubt the good monsignor was aghast at the reply from both his student and the bishop, but I suspect he also has a good sense of humor and can appreciate being able to laugh at himself.  At the end of the day all of us stand equal before God:  we are finite creatures, God is infinite.  Those of us with advanced degrees in theology are no better than the simple souls with simple piety.  The bishop and monsignor stand in the same place as the poor peasant and the unlearned tradesman.  God is the great equalizer, so let's laugh at ourselves because the alternative is unbearable.

Congratulations to all who completed their training and for achieving this milestone.  As we prepare for our work in ministry, let's be sure to avoid the embarrassment of both priest and monsignor by leading people to become disciples rather than data processors.  May God reward you all in your future service to God and neighbor.

Nature and Nature's God

This Sunday's readings all use gardening images to describe the relationship between God and humans.  The Gospel text in particular relates the teaching of Jesus on the kingdom of God being likened to a planter who scatters his seed on the ground and watches it bloom, as well as the kingdom being compared to a mustard seed that grows to provide shelter for all the birds of the air.  It may be that I am drawn to these images because I enjoy gardening, but Jesus uses these images more than any other to describe the kingdom of God.  Why?

Many will answer this question by talking about the great pedagogy of Jesus who used images familiar to his audience in order to convey a deep truth about God, and no doubt that statement is true.  One of the overlooked truths Jesus intended to teach is that the kingdom of God is natural to human beings.  God intended us to live within his kingdom by the very fact that God created us in his image and likeness.  Being in a relationship with God is as normal and natural as breathing air or drinking water.  Whether a person acknowledges God's presence in their life or not the fact remains that we have a relationship to God just as we have a relationship to the natural created order and the entire cosmos.

This truth has been obscured over the centuries because there was such an emphasis on the great divide between God and humans caused by human sin.  The sin of humans was so great an obstacle that only the intervention of God could repair and restore the relationship.  Despite this redemptive act on the part of God through his Son Jesus, theology continued to stress the depraved fallen nature of the human person that required the constant imparting of created grace in order to achieve salvation - and then only with difficulty.  Theologians would often cite the teaching of Thomas Aquinas that grace perfects nature, that nature requires the supernatural in order to be lifted up and redeemed.

However, this teaching became overemphasized to the point that it created a false dichotomy between the natural and the supernatural, between the material and the spiritual.  Recall what Aquinas says:  grace perfects nature.  He does not say that it replaces nature, and so nature is itself a good.  We cannot be so depraved in our nature that God could not visit our abode and pitch his tent among us.  We have an innate goodness to our nature by the very fact that God created us in his image and likeness.  The relationship, then, between the natural and supernatural is not an adversarial one, but one of cooperation and union akin to marriage. 

Thomas also teaches that the distinction between soul and body is one that exists in thought, not in reality.  Thomas recognized the biblical teaching that the human person is radically one and hence the whole person is created by God, redeemed by God, and sanctified by the Spirit.  The image of Jesus, then, in these parables speaks a great truth about how the kingdom of God is not some external imposition upon us by God, but rather the full realization of what is means for us to be human as individuals and as community. 

People are often disconnected from the Church because they do not experience its life as in any way natural or a fulfillment of our human vocation.  Instead they see a lot of external rules and practices that seem to have no connection to our lives.  And yet people were attracted to the teaching of Jesus precisely because it was connecting to their lives and to the natural vocation we have as persons.  In the renewal of the Church to which we are called, the Second Vatican Council urged us to adopt a pedagogy that is not polemical but one that everyone is able to understand.  Let us, then, imitate the Lord Jesus in his methods and adopt an approach that does not deal in false dichotomies and Gnostic dualities, but rather one that speaks to the radical unity of the human person and our natural vocation to be in relationship with God and with one another.

Same Pilgrimage, Different Perspective

"The Church, while on earth it journeys in a foreign land away from the Lord, is like an exile.  It seeks and experiences those things which are above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God, where the life of the Church is hidden with Christ in God until it appears in glory with its Spouse."  (Lumen Gentium, #6)

The image of the Church as a pilgrim people is a constant refrain throughout the documents of the Second Vatican Council.  It appears throughout the Council's texts regardless of topic:  liturgy, Church, revelation, ministry of bishops, and in every other document of the Council.  Why was this image preferred to the many others the Council references in #6 of Lumen Gentium?

Being on a pilgrimage is an egalitarian undertaking.  Every person on the pilgrimage is really in the same position:  we are all on the way, journeying to a common destination.  Pilgrimages are hard undertakings.  They last a long time, and while you may know everyone with you on the journey, there are times when you get on their nerves and they get on yours.  In order to be successful on the pilgrimage you have to follow your guide.  Straying from the path can get you into a great deal of trouble.  A pilgrimage is a great undertaking and a great experience of solidarity.

As you journey along the pilgrim way, your perspective begins to change over the course of days.  You arrive at new insights you never had before.  You come to appreciate home a great deal, and yet there also comes a real love for the place you are visiting.  If you did manage to lose your way and find your way back to the right path, there comes a genuine sorrow for taking your own way and a deep connection to the path you are to follow.

The Council Fathers recognized that for a long time we had, to quote a profound passage from the Anglican Use of the Roman Rite Liturgy, "followed the devices and desires of our own hearts.  We have done those things which we ought not to have done, and we have not done those things which we ought to have done."  Holiness had become a specialty of the professional clerical and religious class.  Constantinian Christianity had led us to compromise ourselves into accepting the use of violence to justify a great many things that are unjustifiable.  These were the conclusions of one Joseph Ratzinger, theological peritus at the Second Vatican Council, which he set to paper in his book "Theological Highlights of Vatican II." 

The study of Church history and our own experiences of the last forty years should dispel any notions of a triumphalistic understanding of the Church.  The Council noted, "For although the Catholic Church has been endowed with all divinely revealed truth and with all the means of grace, yet its members fail to live by them with all the fervor that they should, so that the radiance of the Church's image is less clear in the eyes of our separated brethren and of the world at large, and the growth of God's kingdom is delayed.  All Catholics must therefore aim at Christian perfection and, each according to his station, play his part that the Church may daily be more purified and renewed.  For the Church must bear in her own body the humility and dying of Jesus, against the day when Christ will present her to Himself in all her glory without spot or wrinkle."  (Decree on Ecumenism, #4)

And so the Church stops to look at her earthly pilgrimage to assess where she has been and where she is going.  Each of us must do this for our own particular journey and to look at the larger communal journey as well.  Each day should lead to a new perspective on the same pilgrimage. 

In my own life I have served as a teacher in Catholic schools, catechist, parish minister, diocesan office director, and now chancellor.  Each place is a different perspective on the journey - my own and that of the whole Church.  None is greater than the other.  Taken in isolation they can be very narrow perspectives; taken together as a whole there is much to be learned.  The same is true regarding our fellow pilgrims.  Take the time to listen to others as they share their perspective as a fellow pilgrim - and listen to many, many people as there will be great variety in their stories.  Then, share your story with great humility, recognizing that your story is not greater than that of another.  In fact, we are likely to find that our stories aren't so different after all.  And all the while let us encourage each other to continue the journey together, agreeing to let God resolve our disputes when we get to the end of the road.  But for now, we need each other, and we can't let our differences obscure that fact.

The Art of Teaching: "Neither to the Right Nor to the Left"

"The teaching of the arrogant has this characteristic:  they do not know how to introduce their teaching humbly and they cannot convey correctly to others the things they understand correctly themselves.  With their words they betray what they teach; they give the impression that they live on lofty heights from which they look down disdainfully on those whom they are teaching; they regard the latter as inferiors, to whom they do not deign to listen as they talk; indeed they scarcely deign to talk to them at all - they simply lay down the law....On the contrary true doctrine all the more effectively shuns the voice of arrogance through reflection, in which it pursues the arrogant teacher himself with the arrows of its words.  It ensures that the pride which it attacks in the hearts of those listening to the sacred words will not in fact be preached by arrogant conduct.  For true doctrine tries both to teach by words and to demonstrate by living example - humility, which is the mother and mistress of virtues.  Its goal is to express humility among the disciples of truth more by deeds than by words."  (St. Gregory the Great, pope.  From the Moral Reflections of Job - Lib. 23, 23-24; PL 76, 265-266).

The book of Job has been the Church's text of reflection in the Office of Readings from the Liturgy of the Hours over the past few weeks.  Job is tested by God and is visited by three friends who proceed to tell him what his problem is.  In each case the teachers presume to know what ails Job, and yet the reality is much deeper, a reality that only Job can know through conversation with God.  Job provides us with an example to follow in our own lives:  God speaks to us through our lived experience, and we can know what God says through prayer, reflection, and dialogue with others.

St. Gregory highlights the most important points of theological reflection in the passage above, a point that Blessed John XXIII highlights in his comments that announced the intention to convene the Second Vatican Council:  theology is primarily about persuasion, not pressure; conversion rather than coersion.  What is more, the words we use in theological reflection matter less than the living example we give to others. 

Recently a former student sought advice for a problem he is having.  He is a camp counselor for the first time since graduating from high school a few weeks ago.  He said that on the first day he felt as if the campers were intent on doing him harm, and he was looking for some advice on how to deal with that feeling.  I replied that there are two ways of dealing with that experience:  you can choose to make the campers fear you, or you can get them to love you.  The latter is more salutary for many reasons.

In the Christian tradition the model for all we do is Jesus the Lord.  In his public ministry he brought people to himself through teaching, but more profoundly through the good deeds Jesus did to all whom he encountered.  Some would like to focus on Jesus' condemnations of the scribes and Pharisees while ignoring the real thrust of Jesus' pedagogy.  Jesus invited, encouraged, inspired, and challenged people to enter into a relationship with God.  The early Christians followed this example of Jesus, and people came to believe not through argumentation or through coersion, but because the theology of God's love was manifest and incarnate in the lives of those who preached it. 

May the prayer of St. John Damascene be our own as we seek to be in the heart of the Church while seeking its constant renewal and reform:

"O Lord, you led me from my father’s loins and formed me in my mother’s womb. You brought me, a naked babe, into the light of day, for nature’s laws always obey your commands.

"By the blessing of the Holy Spirit, you prepared my creation and my existence, not because man willed it or flesh desired it, but by your ineffable grace. The birth you prepared for me was such that it surpassed the laws of our nature. You sent me forth into the light by adopting me as your son and you enrolled me among the children of your holy and spotless Church.

"You nursed me with the spiritual milk of your divine utterances. You kept me alive with the solid food of the body of Jesus Christ, your only-begotten Son for our redemption. And he undertook the task willingly and did not shrink from it. Indeed, he applied himself to it as though destined for sacrifice, like an innocent lamb. Although he was God, he became man, and in his human will, became obedient to you, God his Father, unto death, even death on a cross.

"In this way you have humbled yourself, Christ my God, so that you might carry me, your stray sheep, on your shoulders. You let me graze in green pastures, refreshing me with the waters of orthodox teaching at the hands of your shepherds. You pastured these shepherds, and now they in turn tend your chosen and special flock. Now you have called me, Lord, by the hand of your bishop to minister to your people. I do not know why you have done so, for you alone know that. Lord, lighten the heavy burden of the sins through which I have seriously transgressed. Purify my mind and heart. Like a shining lamp, lead me along the straight path. When I open my mouth, tell me what I should say. By the fiery tongue of your Spirit make my own tongue ready. Stay with me always and keep me in your sight.

"Lead me to pastures, Lord, and graze there with me. Do not let my heart lean either to the right or to the left, but let your good Spirit guide me along the straight path. Whatever I do, let it be in accordance with your will, now until the end.

"And you, O Church, are a most excellent assembly, the noble summit of perfect purity, whose assistance comes from God. You in whom God lives, receive from us an exposition of the faith that is free from error, to strengthen the Church, just as our Fathers handed it down to us."

Welcome and Explanation

Many people want to know what a chancellor of a diocese does.  The position of chancellor is one of the few that is canonically necessary to the working of a diocese.  Canon Law describes the duties of a chancellor thus:

Can. 482 §1. In every curia a chancellor is to be appointed whose principal function, unless particular law establishes otherwise, is to take care that acts of the curia are gathered, arranged, and safeguarded in the archive of the curia.

§2. If it seems necessary, the chancellor can be given an assistant whose title is to be vice-chancellor.

§3. By reason of being chancellor and vice-chancellor they are notaries and secretaries of the curia.

Can. 483 §1. Besides the chancellor, other notaries can be appointed whose writing or signature establishes authenticity for any acts, for judicial acts only, or for acts of a certain case or affair only.

§2. The chancellor and notaries must be of unimpaired reputation and above all suspicion. In cases in which the reputation of a priest can be called into question, the notary must be a priest.

Can. 484 It is the duty of notaries:

1/ to draw up the acts and instruments regarding decrees, dispositions, obligations, or other things which require their action;

2/ to record faithfully in writing what has taken place and to sign it with a notation of the place, day, month, and year;

3/ having observed what is required, to furnish acts or instruments to one who legitimately requests them from the records and to declare copies of them to be in conformity with the original.

Needless to say, confidentiality is essential to the work of a chancellor.  Consequently this blog will not really talk about much of the particular work of being a chancellor.  Instead, the focus of this blog will be theological reflection from the perspective of a chancellor.  You'll see reflections on the Sunday readings, reflections on theological topics from the cycle of the liturgy, and in this upcoming Year of Faith there will be series of reflections on the Second Vatican Council as we celebrate the 50th Anniversary of the beginning of the most monumental Ecumenical Council in the history of the Church.

This blog is intented for reflection, and thus the expectation of commentators is that the discussions be civil and charitable at all times.  In a short while you will see the second post on this new blog format that hopefully will set the tone for the reflection and conversation we hope to engender here.  You will notice the picture of St. Thomas More at the beginning of this post.  Thomas was chancellor of England during the time of King Henry VIII; he was executed for not following the King in leading the Church of England away from unity with the larger Church.  Thomas More was a humanist who sought the reform of the Church in a time of great corruption in the Church, while at the same time attempting to maintain the unity of the Church in its members and struggling against a hostile state power.  In many ways our times are like his.  We pray to him that he may pray to God on our behalf to navigate through these times with great grace and love.