Table of Contents

Because this book was written as a blog, it is displayed in Matthew 20:16 order - i.e. "So the last will be first, and the first last." (ESV) When I publish it as an e-book, that will be corrected. In the meantime, however, to facilitate your reading this book in the right order, I'm listing the links to the chapters of the book below in the order they were written:

Chapter 1: First Post

Chapter 2: Blame it on John Wycliffe

Chapter 3: The Imperfect Duckling

Chapter 4: Of Snakes and Trees

Chapter 5: OMG and other Sibboleths

Chapter 6: Water Babies

Chapter 7: Sacramentals vs Superstitions

Chapter 8: Who Says this Ain't Communion?

Chapter 9: Ex-Smokers

Chapter 10: Conversion(s)

Chapter 11: Pattern Oster

Chapter 12: Of Weeds and Wheat

Chapter 13: Composed or Spontaneous Prayer?

Chapter 14: Adding Polish to my Faith

Chapter 15: The Gold Standard of Billy Graham

Chapter 16: (Trans-)Substantial Respect

Chapter 17: Speaking the Languages of Others

Chapter 18: Mosaic Christian Mosaic

Chapter 19: Tactile Prayer

Chapter 20: No Fear, No Profits of Doom

Chapter 21: How Many Books?

Chapter 22: In the Culture but not of the Culture

Chapter 23: Of Burdens and Betrayals

Chapter 24: Images and Icons

Chapter 25: Quantum Mass and an Hour in Heaven

Chapter 26: Something About Mary

Chapter 27: Failing Forward

Chapter 28: Drawing a Bead on the Rosary

Chapter 29: Seasons of the Church

Chapter 30: Your First Mass

Chapter 31: What-holic?

Chapter 32: What's Wrong With the Roman Catholic Church?

Chapter 33: Faith of Our Fathers

Chapter 34: Mary Christ Mass

Chapter 35: Read On

Enjoy!

Read On

A favourite quotation of mine is from Sir Winston Churchill: "Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning."

This Blog/Book has been about my personal experience with the Roman Catholic Church, and while I've tried to cover a broad range of areas of interest, it is not the same as an exhaustive reference work, nor a detailed examination of the various facets of Catholic belief and behavior.

But I hope it has been a good beginning for you to have a better understanding of Catholic Christianity from a Protestant perspective, or possibly vice-versa, or maybe just a new perspective on Christianity generally.

It is my intention to publish this, at least as an e-book, once I've had the opportunity to fine tune and format it. I'll include information on where to get it in this blog/chapter once it is available so you can read the chapters in a more intuitive order than bottom-to-top.

To continue your journey of learning and understanding Christianity and Catholicism, quite a number of good works of insight can be recommended. Four of my favourites are:

Catholicism For Dummies by Rev. John Trigilio Jr. and Rev. Kenneth Brighenti

Signs of Life: 40 Catholic Customs and Their Biblical Roots by Scott Hahn

A Biblical Walk Through the Mass: Understanding What We Say and Do In The Liturgy by Edward Sri

The New Rosary in Scripture: Biblical Insights for Praying the 20 Mysteries by Edward P. Sri

(Copyright (c) 2011, Reg Harbeck, all rights reserved)

Mary Christ Mass

As I write this, it is December 15 - ten days before Christmas. Everyone's getting ready for the celebration, and some of us are marking Advent while we wait.

This blog/book has been a great mini-journey for me, reviewing and reliving my faith journey and what it has meant for me as a culturally Protestant Christian to find myself amid the mysteries of the Roman Catholic Church.

If I were to summarize the core things I've uncovered and shared, it would come down to three:

1) The Catholic beliefs and practices concerning the Virgin Mary, which are so culturally uncomfortable for Protestants, and yet so consistent with Christianity.
2) The Catholic mass, which is more than just a service - it's the hour in heaven that was handed down from the earliest Christians, and built on the traditions handed down from Judaism.
3) In the very centre of everything, including the Catholic Church, is Jesus Christ, as should be the case in any true experience of Christianity.

Bring them together, with Jesus at the centre, and you get a seasonal expression of Catholic Christianity:

Mary Christ Mass!

(Copyright (c) 2011, Reg Harbeck, all rights reserved)

Faith of Our Fathers

One of the delightful discoveries I've made during my time in the Catholic Church is how many of the same hymns are sung by both Protestants and Catholics. It always gives me a thrill to be standing in church singing a song of prayer and praise that I learned as a child, reminding me that my journey of faith has always been about my relationship with Jesus, my savior and redeemer, regardless of which denomination I was in.

One that has often touched me is the great Anglican (or Episcopal if you prefer) hymn, "The Church's One Foundation" which speaks of the divisions in the church not overcoming Jesus, the single foundation for all of Christianity. I sang it in Protestant churches as a child, and I sing it as an adult in Catholic churches. And I especially take to heart the last verse, which focuses the entire hymn on the communion of the saints in a manner fully consistent with my blog/chapter on the topic:

Yet she on earth hath union
With the God the Three in One,
And mystic sweet communion
With those whose rest is won:
O happy ones and holy!
Lord, give us grace that we,
Like them, the meek and lowly,
On high may dwell with thee.

Another hymn that I sang as a youth and still sing as an adult is "Faith of our Fathers" which was written by English Catholics about the joy of keeping the faith despite all hardships.

For me, it has a particularly special meaning because my faith is one that was handed down to me with great care by my missionary parents and, when they saw where my journey was taking me, instead of forbidding it or disowning me, they took it seriously. So seriously, in fact, that a few years after I joined the Catholic Church, I had the blessed pleasure of welcoming my own parents into the church where the faith of our fathers originated.

Today, my children also joyfully profess and practice this faith of our fathers, grateful for both our Protestant and Catholic Christian heritage. In fact, they attend a Protestant Christian university that has a Catholic college, where they go for many of their courses.

After 25 years as a Catholic, and being a cradle Christian, I can only be thankful for a journey that has led to this, and I look forward to what the infinite future holds.

(Copyright (c) 2011, Reg Harbeck, all rights reserved)

What's Wrong With the Roman Catholic Church?

It's like they'll let anyone into this church - even the clearly imperfect son of Protestant missionaries. It seems that anyone who's willing to take the time to learn about what it means to be a Catholic Christian and agree to abide by those practices and beliefs can be accepted. Even if they have bad breath or other unpleasant personal traits. Even if they're a 15-year-old confirmation candidate whose cultural Catholic family shows no indication of sincerity about their faith beyond having gotten their children baptized at birth.

One might be tempted to label the Catholic Church the recycle bin of humanity, trying to get as many people in to heaven as possible, by any means possible - even baptizing them before they're old enough to hurt themselves.

As someone with elitist tendancies, this has been one of the hardest things for me to deal with in the Catholic Church. I pride myself on my knowledge of scripture, but meet priests who don't know the Bible as well as I do. I feel blessed with my intellectual abilities, but meet Catholics who don't know and don't care even about simple things like there being multiple translations of the Bible. I make a point of going to church every Sunday (or Saturday evening vigil mass) and on holy days of obligation, but most people who call themselves Catholics seem satisfied with only attending on Christmas and/or Easter - or not at all.

I understand that there are over 1 billion Catholics in the world - more, I believe, than all Protestants put together. But if you want to find most of them, you're more likely to locate them at a sports venue or party than in a Church.

Why has this happened?

One reason is the fact that large portions of the Catholic population are drawn from cultures where a monarch proclaimed th conversion of an entire realm to the faith (not a circumstance unique to Catholicism, mind you). As a result, there are many families whose original conversion to the faith was mandated rather than freely chosen, and who passed that "cultural Catholicism" down the generations.

Another, related reason is that, in those places and historical times when being a Catholic was the norm, those who didn't claim the faith were often less included in social and commercial interaction, and there are still vestiges of that attitude in many cultures.

At the same time, in the post-World War II era, a global, interconnected, amoral, entertainment-centric culture has emerged that offers constant gratification in exchange for the loosening of scruples and identity. Everyone, Catholics included (and perhaps especially cultural Catholics), is exposed to this and lured away from "traditional values" by it. So we have many ostensibly Catholic public figures espousing "anything goes as long as it feels OK" positions.

One could well be tempted to say it's time for the Catholic Church to shake all these fakers out of its robes and stand up, dust itself off, and start behaving like the original Christian Church.

But then there's the parable of the wheat and the weeds (see Matt. 13:24-30). It seems that Jesus wanted to include as many people as possible, giving everyone every chance to be saved and let Christ's redemption work in and through their lives, rejecting no one before judgment day.

So, if you can't get rid of all these stained Christians who are taking up space in the ornate theological cathedral of Catholicism, what do you do with them?

In my life, my conclusion is that there's only one person whose conversion I'm responsible for, and that's mine. And even that original conversion and ongoing redemption is only by the grace of God.

So, if I want to see more Catholics become real Christians, the only way I can do it is by becoming more and more of one myself, and that only by seeking first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness (Matt. 6:33), not by seeking to change others.

Which, as do so many other things in my journey, brings me back to Romans 8:28, reminding me that any good resulting from my efforts is a blessing from God, or, to quote one of my favourite sayings embodying this Bible verse, "God writes straight with crooked lines."

(Copyright (c) 2011, Reg Harbeck, all rights reserved)

What-holic?

I like cats - I had several as pets growing up. Mind you, that didn't make me a cat-holic - though I could be called a "small-c catholic" as someone who is part of the one Christian church - divided though it be.

There's one particular division among Christians I've hinted at in a few chapters/blogs that I think it's time to address: alcoholic beverages.

Now, it's true that all parts of Christianity look upon drunkenness as an unvirtuous behaviour not to be expected from a perfect Christian. However, some parts of Christianity have looked down on anything to do with alcohol ever since the mid-19th century, when the temperance movement and Welch's non-alcoholic grape juice both emerged.

An avoidance of alcoholic beverages has Biblical precedent, from Nazirites (including Samson, Samuel and John the Baptist) to the story of the Rechabites in Jeremiah 35:1-11 to various verses in the book of Proverbs that warn against drunkenness, as do Luke 21:34, Romans 13:13 and Galatians 5:20-21.

Certainly, there's no denying the virtuous nature exhibited by those communities that eschew alcoholic beverages. My grandmother belongs to such a community, and to a church where she signed a pledge to abstain from them. My kids also attend a university whose campus is officially dry, and I'm very pleased with the quality of education, culture and social development I see there.

However, the use of wine also has Biblical mandate, from the Passover, to Psalm 104:15 (ESV) that speaks of "wine to gladden the heart of man," to Ecclesiastes 9:7 (ESV) which says, "Go, eat your bread with joy, and drink your wine with a merry heart, for God has already approved what you do." Even the Apostle Paul counseled Timothy to "use a little wine for the sake of your stomach." (1 Tim. 5:23 ESV) And, of course, there's the Last Supper, based on the Passover.

Remember: until the invention of pasteurized, non-alcoholic Welch's grape juice, all wine had alcohol in it.

But here's what I consider the most interesting part: in every church that has communion and hasn't switched to using non-alcoholic grape juice, an alcoholic beverage is what becomes (or, for some, symbolizes) the blood of Christ.

Why would God choose an alcoholic beverage to become the very blood of His son? I'm sure one could spend many books conjecturing and drilling down to reasons and historical precedents, but for me, at the end of the day, it's a mystery.

The reason I bring this topic up is that there are many Protestants whom I care about and respect, who reject alcoholic beverages as simply wrong. From what I can tell, it makes more sense to take the journey of learning to treat them with respect, and if in the lives of some that means abstaining, that's fine, as long as it's not accompanied by a judgmental attitude to those who don't abstain.

By taking this conscientious attitude, my tee-totalling Protestant friends and family can be relieved of an important roadblock to accepting those fellow Christians, including most Catholics, who choose to include alcoholic beverages as part of their Christian life journeys.

(Copyright (c) 2011, Reg Harbeck, all rights reserved)

Your First Mass

So, you decide to check out a Catholic mass, but you're a bit intimidated with the prospect of attending something where you're sure you'll stick out like a sore thumb. How do you get the most out of it without feeling like you don't belong?

The first thing to keep in mind is that, as a Christian, the entire Body of Christ is your birthright and home. And, as a non-Christian, it can be if you choose it. In either case, you're welcome - just please be respectful.

Being respectful means:

1) No food, gum, beverages, or audible electronic devices (such as cell phones - set them to silent please).
2) No conversation during the mass. That includes using electronic devices for text, email or calls.
3) Dress respectfully and conservatively. You're not there to show off your clothes or what they cover.

The thing to keep in mind is, from the moment you enter the sanctuary, you're in the physical presence of Jesus. His body, transsubstantiated from the bread that is used for communion, is stored in a special secured container in the front known as the Tabernacle, which is opened during the mass for distribution of the contents, and holds any left over at the end of the mass. You may see people bowing in that direction as they kneel before sitting on the bench/pew. They are literally reverencing Jesus by doing so.

Often, as people enter, they will dip their fingers in a container of water and cross themselves. That is holy water. Don't feel obliged to do this if you don't mean it. No one minds that you're new to this, and no one expects you to leave your integrity at the door to fit in. Don't do anything that you don't honestly mean - and that includes reciting or singing anything that everyone else is, if you're not comfortable with it.

Many people will kneel and pray once they're in their seats (assuming they arrive with enough time before mass begins). That's personal prayer, and is not required, but it's a great opportunity to get comfortable with the fact that you're in the physical presence of Jesus and are about to spend an hour in heaven, by offering this experience to God for His guidance and blessing.

One thing you'll do a lot of is standing. If you're not physically able to, that's OK - you don't have to if you can't. Otherwise, it's a good idea to just stand when everyone else around you is standing, and sit when they sit.

At the beginning and end of the mass, the congregation crosses themselves as the priest says "In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit" (give or take an "of the" or two) and makes the sign of the cross over the congregation. Feel free to do this if you're comfortable with it, but not if it goes against your personal integrity for some reason.

During the mass, there are many prayers by the priest and responses by the congregation. If you can get ahold of a missal (a small bound book with the readings and responses from the mass) or missalette (a smaller booklet with just this month's readings and the mass parts) you may be able to follow along. Again, feel free to say them if you're comfortable with what they contain, but don't feel required to if they express sentiments that you don't share.

As mentioned, there will be singing at the beginning, end, and various times during the mass. If you see others around you singing along and you wish to, go right ahead - don't worry about being out of key, as that will just encourage those who are in key to sing with even greater enthusiasm. But if you have any issues with any of the words, you don't have to sing or say them. If you're a Protestant, you're likely to be pleasantly surprised with how much you agree with - and even with some familiar hymns.

Three points in the mass deserve extra attention here:

1) During the readings, which (on a normal Sunday) will begin with an Old Testament reading, then have a responsorial Psalm, be followed by a New Testament reading, and then conclude with a Gospel reading, there are certain responses. At the end of the OT and NT readings, the reader says, "The Word of the Lord" and the congregation responds, "Thanks be to God." During the Psalm, the congregation responds with a spoken or sung refrain that is introduced at the beginning of the Psalm. At the beginning of the Gospel, for which the congregation stands, the Priest or Deacon says, "A reading from the Holy Gospel according to Matthew/Mark/Luke/John." and the congregation respond by crossing their foreheads, lips and hearts with their thumbs and saying "Glory to you Lord." Then, at the end of the Gospel, the Priest or Deacon says, "The Gospel of the Lord." and the congregation responds, "Praise to You, Lord Jesus Christ." Sometimes the Gospel responses are replaced with singing.

2) Right after the "Great Amen" the congregation says the Catholic version of the Lord's Prayer - i.e. it stops after "deliver us from evil." and the priest says a small prayer that begins with, "Deliver us, Lord, from every evil..." after which the congregation responds, "For the Kingdom and the Power and the Glory are yours, now and forever." Then the Priest invokes the peace of Christ on the congregation, who respond, "And with your spirit." Next, everyone is encouraged to share that peace with each other, which is most often accomplished by shaking the hands of one's neighbors (or some more conservative greeting if someone has a cold or flu they don't wish to spread) and saying something like, "Peace be with you." This continues until the choir and/or congregation begin saying or singing a refrain that begins with, "Lamb of God..."

3) Communion - this time is pretty obvious, as people stand and start heading to the aisle and towards those who are distributing communion. It's perfectly acceptable to remain in your place or, if it's a bit tight, exit the pew and stand behind everyone until the pew is empty, and then return to your seat. Or, you may join everyone and go forward for a blessing by crossing your arms so your hands rest on your opposite shoulders, making it clear that you wish to receive a blessing rather than the body or blood of Christ. But it is very important not to take/receive the body or blood of Christ until you are in full communion with the Catholic Church, as anything else - including taking the body of Christ and keeping it for any purpose not explicitly sanctioned by the Church - constitutes a grave sacrilege.

Once all of this is over, and the final hymn has been sung, some may remain in their pews to pray a bit longer, and everyone is often invited to come to the church hall for snacks and fellowship afterwards. You are most emphatically welcome to that. Feel free to introduce yourself to anyone you meet and strike up a conversation. You will find that people aren't generally theologians, so the topics of discussion may not be as deep as you're looking for, but if you ask for someone you can talk to about your experience and questions, I'm sure they'll find someone for you to share with.

You're welcome!

(Copyright (c) 2011, Reg Harbeck, all rights reserved)

Seasons of the Church

Growing up Protestant, I knew all about Christmas and Easter, though, if you'd asked me which was more important, I might have said Christmas.

I also encountered a few signs of Advent including some candy calendars counting down the days to Christmas.

I even recall marking Shrove Tuesday, Ash Wednesday, Palm Sunday and Good Friday, though more as an interested observer than an active participant.

Joining the Catholic Church, suddenly there were numerous special days that were marked with observances (especially including masses) that I was expected to partake in.

The one that got my attention first was Lent. Beginning with Ash Wednesday and enduring 40 days (not counting Sundays, which are always "feast days" - i.e. days of celebration - overeating not required) until Easter weekend (known as Triduum for the three days that Christ was in the ground and among the dead), the first thing I knew about Lent was that it was a big, long pain.

I knew this because, before I even started attending the Catholic Church, I had a Catholic friend who happened to be in a habit of drinking a large amoung of Coca Cola every day, and decided to give it up for Lent. I have rarely seen someone suffer so much.

Suddenly, Easter arrived, and she was released from her sacrifice to consume her favourite soft drink to her heart's content. Meanwhile, I got a chocolate Easter bunny from my parents.

Later, I became more aware that Advent began four Sundays before Christmas, and there was a tradition of lighting a new candle each Sunday to remember a part of the story leading up to Jesus' birth.

But it wasn't until I'd been a Catholic for a number of years that I started to really abosorb the beauty of the annual rhythm of the Catholic Church's calendar. It's like a fine, complex sculpture in which every piece fits together in a working, moving whole, reflecting and interacting with the seasons of the calendar year without being limited by them.

Add to this the lectionary, which ensures that we read through all parts of the Bible at Sunday church every three years (regardless of any favourite verses a given priest may have), and the seasons of the Church become a life-sustaining grace that helps keep our faith grounded in our whole experience of life - and vice versa.

Of course, unless you grew up in a denomination that carefully observed these seasons, you might be at least as unfamiliar with them as I was, so a summary of how they flow follows:

The church year begins on the first Sunday of Advent, which is four Sundays before Christmas, and is either in late November or early December. The Sunday readings are chosen to anticipate the joy of Christmas, and the mass is altered slightly: no "Gloria" is sung during Advent (normally it would be before the first reading) in anticipation of Christmas when we repeat it in memory of Luke 2:14, when the angels sang Glory to God to mark the birth of Jesus.

Now, a common practice in the Catholic Church is to offer the alternative of a vigil mass the evening before, as well as on the day of a "feast" such as Christmas, Easter and even normal Sundays. This brings to mind the Jewish practice of marking the beginning of a day at sundown, rather than at midnight or sunrise. So, many Catholics will attend a vigil mass, such as midnight mass, to mark Christmas, instead of the next morning which others prefer to attend.

Noteworthy here is that practicing Catholics are expected to attend church every Sunday (or Saturday vigil) and every holy day of obligation (or the accompanying vigil mass if there is one). Christmas Day is a holy day of obligation, whether or not it occurs on a Sunday, so in those six out of seven years when Christmas is not on a Sunday, a good Catholic can expect to attend church on Christmas and the following Sunday. That's also true of New Year's Day, seven days after Christmas, which is a Catholic feast day dedicated to celebrating the special role that God gave the Virgin Mary in salvation history.

Once the Christmas season has passed (with many other special observances and specially-chosen Bible readings), the first stretch of "ordinary time" begins, and continues until Lent commences on Ash Wednesday, which can be any time from just before Valentine's Day to just before Saint Patrick's Day.

It is a popular thing to celebrate one last hurrah before Ash Wednesday, in what some Protestants call Shrove Tuesday, and many Catholics call Mardi Gras (which is French for "Fat Tuesday"), one last opportunity to eat very well and celebrate vigourously. Generally, this celebration is allowed to continue past sundown, but is expected to end by midnight sharp, on time for the season of Lent to begin.

On Ash Wednesday, good Catholics are expected to attend a special mass, at which they have ashes placed upon their foreheads, often in a sign of a cross, as a humbling reminder of our bodies' origins and destinations as dust. Go downtown to any place with many Catholics, such as Manhattan, NY, on Ash Wednesday and you're likely to see quite a number of people with ashes that may appear to be in the form of a cross on their foreheads.

It is a common practice to give something up for Lent, and many Catholics forego sweetened treats such as candy. However, the Catholic Church has lately made it clear that the intention is to deepen our walk with Christ, not to focus on the sacrifice, so it can be as appropriate to take on a new spiritual discipline such as spending additional time reading scripture every day.

It is also common to fast on Fridays. In the past, Catholics would do this every Friday througout the year, but these days it is more common to just do so on Fridays in Lent - though even that is optional. It is expected that Catholics will be restrained in their enjoyment of food and beverage particularly on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday, and such fasting is encouraged but optional at other times - particularly Fridays - during Lent.

Then comes Palm, or Passion, Sunday, when fresh palm fronds are brought into the churches for a celebration in the memory of Jesus' riding into Jerusalem at the beginning of Holy Week, the week when he would be crucified, die, be buried, and rise again on Easter Sunday. Some of these palm fronds are burned later in the year to make the ashes for Ash Wednesday.

Holy Week has many special activities that may take place, but the required activites begin on Holy Thursday when we have a special mass that reminds us of the Last Supper, complete with the priest washing the feet of 12 members of the parish (i.e. church) in commemoration of Jesus' washing the feet of his 12 disciples.

Some of the bread from Holy Thursday is reserved for Good Friday, and is the only form of communion available for the afternoon service on that day, which is often held at 3pm, the time when Jesus gave up his spirit. The Good Friday service is unique throughout the church year, and is also the most sombre service. At the end of it, people leave quietly and meditiatively to ponder the mystery of Christ's death and resurrection.

Easter begins with the vigil Saturday evening, which is the most common time for new Catholics to join the church. In 1986, this was the mass when I became a member of the Catholic Church. It is rich with celebration, a candlelight portion, numerous Bible readings beginning with Genesis 1, adult baptisms, and sprinkling the congregation with the holy water used in baptism.

For those who prefer, there is also a less intense Easter Sunday mass, which is quite popular with "C&E's" or those cultural Catholics who only show up for Christmas and Easter masses, rather than every Sunday plus holy days of obligation as required of practicing Catholics.

Now begins the Easter Season until Pentecost, rich with readings about the early church and celebration of the risen Christ.

Seven weeks (50 days if you count both Sundays) after Easter is Pentecost, an ancient Jewish feast day when the early church originally received the Holy Sprit and began proclaiming the good news in every language their listeners spoke. This "birthday of the Church" marks the conclusion of the Easter season and the resumption of ordinary time, which, with a few "feasts" in between, mostly lasts until the feast of Christ the King, the last Sunday before Advent and the end of the church year.

That's a pretty minimal description, and doesn't really do any of it justice, but it gives you a sense of what the church year is like. To map it to real experience, however, you'd need to attend a Catholic Mass yourself and get a feeling for how everything happens. But that may seem like a rather intimidating prospect if you've never done it before, so my next blog will be about what to expect if you go to a Catholic Mass, and how to get the most out of the experience.

(Copyright (c) 2011, Reg Harbeck, all rights reserved)

Drawing a Bead on the Rosary

You haven't really talked about the Roman Catholic Church and its apparent differences from Protestant Christianity unless you've addressed the rosary. You know: that thing that Catholic taxi drivers hang from their rear-view mirrors. That necklace that doesn't mesh with any fashion statement but a nun's or monk's habit - and then is as likely to be hung from a belt as worn around the neck. That movie prop that old ladies in Catholic churches are focused on just before they give the main characters dirty looks for talking in an otherwise empty church.

But, before I write anything more, please accept my recommendation to review my blogs/chapters about the communion of the saints, composed or sponaneous prayer, tactile prayer, and the Virgin Mary first, because they all shed light on this phenomenon.

Welcome back. Let's begin with how this enabler of tactile meditional prayer looks. It's like a beaded necklace with a crucifix pendant hanging at the bottom. This "pendant" part is connected to the "necklace" part of the rosary through three small beads and one larger one, and then to a three-way piece that joins the two ends of the necklace with the pendant. The necklace portion is made of five sets of ten small beads each, separated by single larger beads. If you find that challenging to imagine, just Google "rosary" or look it up on Wikipedia to get plenty of pictures.

Tradition has it that the Virgin Mary revealed the original rosary to Saint Dominic in 1214. Since then, the basic physical form of the rosary has stayed relatively stable, though the materials used to make it have varied significantly.

From the very beginning, the rosary was used as a way to guide oneself through a long series of meditations in prayer. Early on, it was used to recite the psalms - three times around the necklace part made for all 150 of them. Later, every bead was an occasion to recite the Lord's Prayer. However, as the meditation itself gained emphasis, the small beads came to be occasions to recite the Hail Mary, and the large beads to recite the Lord's Prayer.

And what was that meditation? It was about the story of Christ's redemption of humanity, beginning with the Annunciation to Mary by the Angel Gabriel.

So, taking hold of the rosary at the crucifix, after saying the Apostle's Creed, then the Lord's Prayer, then three Hail Maries - one each for the theological virtues of faith, hope and love (see I Cor. 13:13), and then a prayer giving glory to God, all while moving your grasp along the relevant beads to keep tactile track of your progress, you reach the place where the necklace portion begins, and announce the first of five "mysteries" of Christ's redemption of humanity that you'll be mediatating on. Then, you say the Lord's Prayer again, followed by ten Hail Maries, getting into a gentle repeating pattern that is tracked by your advancing grasp on the relevant beads in the rosary. All this time, you are thinking about the historical story, the images of what occurred, and what it means in your life.

At the conclusion of each group - or "decade" - of ten "Hail Mary" beads, you finsih by giving glory to God again, and then may recite a prayer to Jesus thanking him for his redeeming act that you've just been thinking about, or affirming your willingness to receive his redemption and desire that others do as well.

The prayer used to give glory to God goes like this:

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit.
As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end.
Amen

A popular prayer to confirm our acceptance of Christ's forgiveness and ask that others accept it as well is:

O my Jesus, forgive us our sins, save us from the fires of hell, and lead all souls to heaven, especially those in most need of your mercy.

Once the five chosen historical mysteries of Christ's redemption have been reviewed, you conclude with another one or two prayers meditating on God's redemption of the world, the way that the Virgin Mary was made able to participate in it, and confirming our desire to take that journey as a fellow Christian with the Virgin Mary.

For centuries, there were only three sets of "mysteries" to choose from: the Joyful Mysteries, which talk about the time from Jesus' conception to when he was found in the Temple as a child; the Sorrowful Mysteries, so well-embodied in Mel Gibson's "The Passion of the Christ"; and the Glorious Mysteries, beginning with the resurrection and continuing through the end of history as described in the Revelation.

In 2002, Pope John Paul II added the Luminous Mysteries to shed light on Jesus' ministry, from his baptism through the last supper.

This seems like an awful lot of effort compared to just spontaneously saying a prayer to Jesus whenever we feel like it. But it can also be seen as a great way to meditate on the history of salvation while allowing God's redemptive work to flow through us as we relax in His presence, sharing a time of prayer with a fellow saint who knows Jesus as her own son.

Clearly, the above doesn't do the rosary, its history or its practice justice, which is fine since there's so much else that has been written about it (including a book that I'll recommend at the conclusion of this book/blogging). However, any discussion of the experience of Catholicism from the perspective of a former Protestant would be incomplete without spending some time considering this special way of tactile, meditative prayer.

(Copyright (c) 2011, Reg Harbeck, all rights reserved)

Failing Forward

One of the big differences I've encountered during my Christian journey is between Christians who believe that, having been saved, they're now suddenly and irrevocably perfect, and those who believe that their redemption lasts through the end of their life on earth.

Actually, I've seen something of a continuum between these two positions. One church I attended seemed to proclaim that, having converted, we were now able to "go and sin no more." In my opinion, that attitude selects for failures and phonies, because I have yet to encounter a human, Christian or not, who is able to consistently make a snap judgment about something that has moral implications which will look perfect in retrospect. So, if you're at such a church and discover that you've made a slip, that would mean that somehow your conversion "didn't take" and you either have to do it again, or walk away in dejected failure, or ignore your error and pretend nothing's wrong, which tends to lead to digging oneself pretty deeply into a hole of self-deception.

Other churches seem to take the attitude that it doesn't matter what we do as long as we believe, since it is our faith alone that saves us. Certainly, I agree with the basic thesis here that our redemption is by the grace of God alone and it is ours to receive and accept. But if someone gave you a gift and, after saying thanks, you never unwrapped it but just put it on a shelf, would you really be able to say you'd accepted it? This reminds me of 2 Timothy 3:5 (ESV), where the Apostle Paul talks of people, "having the appearance of Godliness but denying its power."

This is no small matter, of course, and even Martin Luther had significant discomfort with James 2:14-17 which essentially says that faith without works is dead. After all, isn't our saving redemption by Christ a completely free gift with no other action on our parts required than to accept it?

Of course it is! The question is, how do we respond to it - or, more accurately, how do we allow the power of that redemption to be at work in and through us in our daily lives?

Here the theory seems to diverge from practice, because, as that great old hymn says, "they'll know we are Christians by our love." That's not infatuation or affection. That's real living love, acting in caring ways that we need from each other, not because we are able to on our own, but rather as a manifestation of God's freely-given love and grace working through us. So, some Protestants may argue that we are saved by faith alone, and Catholics may say, "no, you need works, like James 2 says." But, in practice, both, in living out their faith, show the work of the Holy Spirit guiding them forward to do good works as a manifestation of the grace of God.

That's important, because it takes away the excuse of those who might be tempted to say, "I'm saved. That's all that matters. Don't look to me for anything else." But it also takes away our legitimacy in judging others based on how perfect they may seem, since each of us is on a journey of redemption, as God's saving grace, which has already bought us a place in Heaven, now works to enable our participation in His kingdom even while we're on Earth. And that journey may start so far away from our personal criteria for perfection that some people may never seem to be "Good Christians" to onlookers, despite the amazing work of redemption that God is carrying out in their lives compared to where they started and where they were headed before becoming Christians.

So, instead of expecting Christians who have been saved to suddenly become moral and spiritual Kens and Barbies, we allow that conversion to be the beginning of a journey of redemption and good works that are also by the grace of God through His Holy Spirit in us, healing us and growing us into fully-redeemed members of the kingdom, and ready for the resurrection of the body at the end of time.

Or, as Philippians 1:6 (ESV) says, "And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ." Seen from the perspective of the Apostle Paul who penned these God-inspired words, the day of Jesus Christ turns out to have been at least two millennia in the future, at least in terms of the second coming. That's a long time for this good work to be brought to completion - basically the lifetime of everyone who ever read these words so far.

And that's a good thing, because, as I've previously observed, I've never met a Christian who was already perfect. And that includes any Catholics I've met. In fact, getting to the point of this blog/chapter, while I as a Catholic Christian have the blessing of faith, which by grace and Christ's redeeming sacrifice will bring me to Heaven, and while I have works that are signs of my ongoing growth and redemption during this life on Earth, I'm also a consistently and self-confessedly imperfect person. (See my blog/chapter on Burdens and Betrayals.)

Here's where one of my favourite verses in the Bible kicks in: Romans 8:28 (ESV), which says, "And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose." In other words, as a forgiven Christian whose place is reserved in Heaven, everything I do, no matter how imperfectly, is not only a part of my own journey of redemption and growth, but is also turned into a positive result.

That's a whole lot better than the secular experience embodied in the well-known saying, "The road to hell is paved with good intentions."

So, no, we're not perfect. Yes, we're saved. No, our attitudes, intentions and actions don't stand as worthy by the standard of perfection, and there's no fudge factor that lets us get away with pretending they do. But, yes, there is both a forgiveness and a redemption factor that takes who we are and what we do, all by the freely-given grace of God, that makes us participants and citizens in the Kingdom of Heaven starting the moment of our conversion.

That works for my faith.

(Copyright (c) 2011, Reg Harbeck, all rights reserved)

Something About Mary

Of all the stumbling blocks for Protestants to accept Catholics as valid fellow-Christians, there may be none that causes more discomfort than the Catholic attitude and theology about the Virgin Mary.

I know that for me, over 25 years after joining the Catholic Church, my Protestant cultural background still makes me uncomfortable with some Marian aspects of Catholicism, even though I have come to intellectually accept them as valid.

This is no coincidence. As I've pondered the differences between my Protestant cultural upbringing and my experience of the Roman Catholic Church, I've become aware that many of those differences appear fully intentional as a way for Protestants to differentiate themselves from Catholics. Some of these are apparently harmless or even constructive, but some of them are what I call "throwing out the baby with the bathwater" (as already mentioned in another blog/chapter).

One simple example of this is a Sunday school song I learned growing up, which used the words of the 23rd Psalm to a tune, and the chorus was something like, "Always, always, I'll trust in Him always." As a Catholic, I encountered the same tune in the Catholic Church (likely drawn from an earlier Latin version, since it still had elements of Latin, including its chorus), but it was about Mary, and the chorus was, "Ave, ave, ave Maria." Notice the similarity of sounds between the two choruses? "Ave" is pronounced "a-vay" with the same cadence as "always" in the song.

So, what have I discovered about the Virgin Mary from a Catholic perspective during my journey?

First, that she's the mother of God, which is theologically consistent with everything that Protestants believe, because Jesus is fully human and fully God, two natures in one, and Mary is fully his mother. Any other view would be heretical according to all major branches of Christianity. Clearly, that doesn't mean that God didn't exist before Jesus was born. But it does mean that God chose her to be the mother of his consubstantial and only-begotten son.

Second, that Jesus demonstrated a clear willingness to heed her requests - for example, see John 2:1-11, when Mary's request prompts Jesus to perform his first miracle, turning water into wine at the wedding feast in Cana. And her request was prompted by the needs of others that were made known to her.

Third, consistent with the communion of the saints as described in another blog/chapter, that Saint Mary is in a position to pray for her fellow members of the Body of Christ, so, just like I might ask my mother to pray for me if I had a matter that I was struggling with and could use some divine help, I can also ask Jesus' mother to pray for me, knowing that Jesus has a very special place in his heart for her.

Fourth, and here's where Protestants get particularly uncomfortable, that Mary was kept sinless from her conception onwards - this is known as the doctrine of Immaculate Conception and is one of the very few things ever proclaimed by the pope invoking infallibility to close any further debate about it. (Did you know that the pope's infallibility is only in effect in matters of such "Ex Cathedra" pronouncements about Catholic doctrine, but that the pope is still allowed to be fallible in every other aspect of his life?)

Why did Mary need to be sinless from conception? To provide a perfect vessel for God to be conceived and born from. How could Mary be free from the stain of original sin? By a miraculous time-transcending act of Christ's saving self-sacrifice which gave her the grace of being redeemed from conception forwards.

To be honest, I may never get totally used to that, but I have no intellectual dissent with it, and the more I know about Catholic theology, the more perfectly it fits with everything else the Catholic Church teaches and professes to be true.

Fifth, and this one is easy to swallow by comparison, that, like Enoch (Genesis 5:22), Elijah (2 Kings 2:11) and possibly Moses (Deuteronomy 34:6, also suggested by the Transfiguration - see Mark 9:4), Mary was bodily taken up to heaven at the end of her life on Earth. This is known as "The Assumption of Mary" or just "The Assumption."

Interestingly, the only complaint I've heard from Protestants about this fifth belief is that the Bible doesn't say it happened, by which criteria nothing else has happened in Christianity since the end of the first century AD either. For that matter, John 20:30-31 and 21:25 make it clear that most of what happened during Jesus' ministry did not get written down, so it's entirely plausible that something occurring decades later would not be included in the New Testament.

The last of these things I've come to learn about the Catholic teaching is that Mary remained (and remains) a virgin, and never had carnal relation with Joseph.

Now, most Protestants are also uncomfortable with that assertion, even though I've never seen an "official Protestant position" on it, and the two Bible verses used most often to suggest that she actually wasn't a virgin, and even had more children, are Matthew 1:25 (ESV), "but [Joseph] knew her not until she had given birth to a son. And he called his name Jesus." and Matthew 12:24, which refers to his mother and brothers.

These don't negate the plausibility of the Catholic perspective because, in the first case, there are numerous references in the Bible where "until" does not mark a change in circumstance after the time specified, such as Philippians 1:3-5 which talks about a partnership with the Apostle Paul "from the first day until now." (ESV) In the second case, in Aramaic culture cousins were referred to as brothers and sisters as well - just like in some languages the word for "hand" and "arm" are the same (e.g. Polish), and in some languages the word for "blue" and "green" are the same (e.g. Stoney Nakoda).

On the other hand, one strong illustration suggesting that Mary had no other children than Jesus is John 19:27, when Jesus tells the disciple, "Behold your mother!" and the disciple consequently takes her into his house from then on, which would not be a likely circumstance if she had other children to look after her.

Now, if you reject any of the above points, then you would literally be unable to function as a Roman Catholic Christian, they are so deeply interwoven with Catholic beliefs and practices. But if you accept them, then some amazing things begin to emerge as valid beliefs and practices, the first and most well-known being the "Hail Mary" prayer.

Did I just call something addressed to someone other than God a prayer? Yes, for two reasons:

1) The linguistic history of the word "pray" in English is a request to another person. If you disagree with this assertion, pray do tell why.
2) In this case, it's about praying with Mary - asking her to join us in a prayer to Jesus - not merely focusing our prayer on Mary.

So, here's how it goes - I've broken it up into five parts:

1) Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you.

- this is a direct quote from the Bible - it's the angel Gabriel's greeting in Luke 1:28; if you accept that you can address fellow saints who are no longer on Earth, then this is an acceptably respectful greeting to a human who did something more important than curing cancer, walking on the moon, or being President of the US, and who is the ultimate Queen Mother - she's God's mom!

- being full of grace, she was kept sinless from conception onwards and was worthily ready to be Jesus' mother as soon as she made the free will choice to accept this role.

- God was with her, as the angel Gabriel acknowledged, and now she is also with God, praying for us.

2) Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus!

- except for the last word, the above is a direct quote from Elizabeth, cousin of Mary and 6-month-pregnant mother of John the Baptist, when the two met and and the baby in Elizabeth's womb recognized the baby in Mary's womb (Luke 1:42). However, since he hadn't been born yet, Elizabeth didn't know his name was Jesus, but we do, so we include that name that is above every name (Phil. 2:9-10).

3) Holy Mary, Mother of God,

- now addressing her according to her unique role in the cosmos as the woman made holy by God's grace and given the role of giving birth to Jesus, God's son who is one of the three persons of God in the divine Trinity

4) pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of death.

- here we ask Mary to join in sharing our burden of prayer, asking Jesus to bless us in response to our needs, most especially our ongoing need to be redeemed from our sinful nature and not be in a state of sin when we die.

5) Amen

- to quote the Beatles' famous song, this essentially means, "let it be" or "so be it" and is used throughout the Bible, right up to the last word of the book of Revelation. While we may tend to think of it as having a similar role to "the end" at the conclusion of a story, its actual purpose is to affirm and emphasize what is being said.

One last thing that needs to be said about the Catholic perspective on Mary is that, unlike Jesus whose second coming will mark the end of modern history and the beginning of the end times on Earth and his eternal kingdom of Heaven, Mary keeps returning and showing up in many ways that the Catholic Church has investigated and, when appropriate, approved as validly having occurred. As one who was bodily taken up to heaven, she often bodily returns to encourage Christians to pray and deepen their faith, and has even been documented as initiating, commissioning and even creating works of sacred art.

Again, that's such a leap for the average Protestant to believe that it seems fair to say it would be a mystery, or even a miracle, for most Protestants to accept this. But at the very least, if Protestants are going to understand their Catholic brothers and sisters, they need to understand this very important aspect of Catholic Christianity.

(Copyright (c) 2011, Reg Harbeck, all rights reserved)

Quantum Mass and an Hour in Heaven

One of the unexpected bonuses of having joined the Catholic Church is that I have been able to go to Church any day, anywhere in the world that I've traveled (and I've traveled to every continent but Antarctica... so far...).

As you may know, the official Catholic Church service is commonly called the Mass, as long as it is a eucharistic celebration - i.e. the bread and wine are consecrated and served as Christ's body and blood.

Now, the fact that there is this service of communion as part of every Catholic Mass, on Sundays and on weekdays as well, is quite different from what most Protestants experience. When I was growing up, we only had communion a few times a year, and only as part of the Sunday church service.

As you might imagine, this led to some confusion for those Protestant friends and relatives who attended our wedding, which, like any full Catholic Wedding, was a Mass, and therefore included communion. Those who weren't already Catholics were, of course, not able to partake of the elements of the eucharist, but they were invited to come forward and receive a blessing instead if they wished.

Afterwards, word got back to me that some of my relatives were upset that we'd included communion in our wedding, as it seemed to them to be a rather in-your-face assertion of our Catholicism which made them feel excluded. I hope they are reading this now, and understand that it was not done to offend them, but rather as part of a true, full Catholic wedding, which, like every other Catholic Mass, includes the eucharist.

In any case, I have no regrets about any mass I've ever attended - each one is an hour in heaven, putting me in the physical presence of Christ, and peeling back the curtains of time to bring me to the very moment of Christ's ultimate sacrifice in a mystery that makes quantum physics seem simple by comparison.

It often occurs to me that, when I go to mass and sing or recite the Gloria (a hymn/prayer that begins with "Glory to God in the highest" in English, the first word in the Latin version being "Gloria") and other hymns of praise, I'm joining my voice with those of the heavenly choir described in the Revelation when all of creation is giving God praise.

So, whether in Sydney (Australia), Rio de Janeiro (Brazil), Warsaw (Poland), Paris (France), London (England), Nuremberg (Germany), The Vatican, Jerusalem (Israel), San Diego (California, US), St. John's (Newfoundland, Canada), or anywhere else I've had the blessing of participating in a Mass, and whether in English, Latin, Polish, French, Brazilian Portuguese, German, Philippino, or any other language I've had the pleasure of following along, knowing the order well enough that I was able to take part even if I didn't speak the local language: in all of these cases and places, I've spent an hour in heaven - in some ways, the very same hour each time, while in other ways, each was a unique experience of blessing to last a lifetime.

(Copyright (c) 2011, Reg Harbeck, all rights reserved)

Images and Icons

I have, on the wall of my office, a hand-autographed reproduction of a self-portrait by astronaut Alan Bean, showing him walking on the moon. That makes him an out-of-this-world hero, and someone I gladly look up to, as I consider the wonderful event his picture portrays.

On my desk and in my smartphone I have numerous pictures of my wife, kids, and other family members and friends I care about. When I'm feeling low, or just sentimental, I can look at them and be reminded of the people I love, the good times we've had together, and the special things they've done for me.

When my kids were young, they often read a Picture Bible we'd gotten for them. It was based on the Protestant canon of scriptures, so it lacked stories such as Tobit and Judith, but this didn't harm its consistency with Catholic Christianity. In it were pictures of heroes of Judaeo-Christian history such as Moses, David, Jesus, Mary and the apostle Paul.

And, on the wall of our house just above the arch that leads from the entryway to the great room, we have a crucifix. Of course, that's a cross - the universally-recognized symbol of Christianity - with a statue attached of Jesus performing the most important act in history. I look at it, and I'm reminded of this wonderful gift. And, just like I might be inclined to touch or hold a picture of someone I care about, so I may give some physical sign of my reverence for this act, for example by crossing myself.

Does this mean I think this crucifix is to be treated like an idol and worshipped for its own sake? Of course not. Nor would I respond to any statue or picture or icon of Jesus or any saint as if they were idols. They are physical portrayals of people and events that have a great meaning to me, and when I respond to them in a reverent manner, it is acknowledging whom or what they portray.

This may seem obvious to you, but a surprising number of my Protestant acquaintances think these are idols or images that are worshiped for their own sake. Of course, the other half of that is that there do seem to be some less well-informed cultural Catholics who likewise reverence the depiction itself more than mere appreciation of a special work of holy art merits.

But, just like I wouldn't get rid of my kids' Picture Bible just because someone might inappropriately reverence a picture of Jesus in it, rather than revering Jesus himself and letting the picture be a pointer to him, so I think there's no good reason to get rid of Christian art just because some people mistake it for what it is pointing at and others are offended by that possibility.

(Copyright (c) 2011, Reg Harbeck, all rights reserved)

Of Burdens and Betrayals

One of the most iconic practices of the Roman Catholic Church that distinguishes it from other denominations is the sacrament of reconciliation, or confession.

Now, I've had fellow Christians who are Protestants tell me that they've seen Catholics use this as a "get out of trouble free card" that allows them to do horrific things and then confess them and walk away as if nothing bad had happened. I suppose that's a possibility, but it's clearly a misuse of it, and not in keeping with the clear intention of being healed from our sinful state so we can go and sin no more.


Of course, any good thing can be misused to do wrong - that's what sin is all about. But it doesn't change the proper role of that good thing when used for good. So, instead of focusing on how this sacrament may be misused, it makes more sense to me to clarify its proper use with some insights from my own journey.

Let me begin with a public confession of my own: When I was in first grade, I stole a handful of change from a change container in my parents' bedroom and spent it on candies and cheap toys in a store near my school. When my parents asked me where I got the goodies, I made matters worse by lying about it and telling them a friend had bought them for me.

Not that big a deal, right? Well, I had that on my conscience for over ten years before I admitted it to my parents, who immediately forgave me and said it wasn't a big deal. The problem was, it was a big deal to me, and coloured my self-image for an entire decade.

The matter is that sin is a great burden, and seeing oneself as being sinful can be a burden so heavy that it leads to other self-destructive behaviors as we try to avoid dealing with it.

An analogy I use for carrying burdens that are too much for us is from the filming of the movie Superman II which was released in the early 1980's. In the movie, actor Sarah Douglas played super-villain Ursa. In one scene, she was lifting and throwing a bus full of passengers. Of course, the human actor was not capable of such a feat. So for the filming the bus was being lifted and carried by a crane using a chain, while she was standing underneath acting as if she was actually carrying it. Then, suddenly, the chain unkinked, the bus dropped slightly, and she found herself pushing up against the full burden of the bus, thereby causing herself significant injury, because she was so in character that she'd forgotten that she wasn't actually capable of carrying the bus.

Whenever we try to carry the burden of sin ourselves instead of letting it go, we also do ourselves significant injury. And, while it's fine to say, "Oh, I'll tell God about it in my private prayer," we're not so good at doing that in a way that feels honest enough. Just like with the rest of our faith, we need to practice it with other people, not just alone with ourselves and God - hence the concept that we're all part of the body of Christ. An early reference to this fact that we need other people is in Genesis 2 beginning in verse 18, when God recognizes that humans need other humans - even a sinless Adam (before the fall) was not able to exist in communion with God alone, and needed human companionship.

But whom do you tell? If you tell a friend, they might gossip and the whole world will soon be judging you harshly for a stumble - or at least for admitting it. If you tell the person you've wronged, it might actually end up harming them more than if you'd kept quiet. (Obviously, failing to tell them when that causes more harm is in itself another sinful behavior.)

In fact, if you tell anyone who isn't sworn to silence on pain of a penalty so severe that they're bound to keep it quiet, you run the risk of making the consequences of your sin even worse.

Time for another story: during my first year of university, when I was still looking for a Christian community where I felt at home (being too far from St. Paul's Presyberian Church to attend it), I spent some time attending a Pentecostal church. I loved the sincerity about their faith, I appreciated the respectful display of gifts of the Spirit, and I learned and grew from the sermons. Eventually, however, I moved on - I think in part because the atmosphere felt just a little too scrutinizingly judgmental for my tastes. But perhaps one of the things that stuck in my craw most was one sermon on abortion.

Now, long before becoming a Catholic I recognized the value of human life from conception to natural death. After all, in Luke 1:39-45 when the newly-pregnant Virgin Mary visits Elizabeth, the six-month-pregnant mother of John the Baptist, Elizabeth tells Mary that the baby in her womb leaped for joy at encountering the mother of her Lord. That's as clear a statement as any Christian needs that these two unborn people were already recognizably living humans.

So, this particular sermon was on a topic I agreed with: the importance of valuing human life from conception onwards. However, the minister did something that shocked me: he told a story of two couples who had come to him for counselling after trading spouses and causing an unwanted pregnancy. They wanted to confess their deed, have an abortion, and then go and sin no more. To prevent them from having an abortion, he told them he would expose them in front of the entire congregation unless they relented and allowed the baby to be born, which they consequently did, and a happy, healthy child was born and all was well.

Now here's my problem with that: do you think either of those couples ever went to a minister for counselling or to confess a serious sin again? I have my doubts: their confidence was so badly betrayed that they were likely scarred for life. You could make the argument that saving this child's life justified it, and I can see how the minister may have felt compelled to act, but the fact is that, by immediately using the "nuclear option" instead of using powers of reasoning and gentle persuasion, this minister took away the future possibility of confidential confession of sins from both couples. And he likely made everyone listening to his sermon think twice about confessing serious sins as well.

So, when I have a burden of having done something I feel terrible about, whether it's something that no one else needs to know about, or whether it's something that requires some act of restitution to those affected, for the sake of my own healing and ability to stop carrying a burden too large for me, I can go to any Catholic Priest, genuinely confess and admit that I am sorry, receive absolution along with some act of penance such as saying the Lord's Prayer as part of my healing, and go about living my life knowing that my burden has been lifted and the Priest won't gossip about it to anyone else, on pain of excommunication if he did.

Of course, that means the Priest has to also be careful not to accidentally take my burden on himself, but rather act as an intermediary of grace, to avoid busting his own moral gut.

I have to say that, from the time I was a child until I joined the Catholic Church, every time I had to confess some burden of sin I had to be prepared for it making matters worse, and I had no consistent mechanism for such a reconciliation, so I had to think through my approach each time. Since joining the Catholic Church, I know I can safely be unburdened from any sin, without fear of making matters worse, by admitting it to God in the presence of a Priest, a fellow human I know I can trust to keep confidence. Then I can go and make good on any consequential matters as a moral act, rather than one compelled by an overwhelming burden of guilt.

(Copyright (c) 2011, Reg Harbeck, all rights reserved)

In the Culture but not of the Culture

Most of the treasured sayings of Christianity have their roots in scripture, though sometimes the actual phrasing can't be found literally in the Bible.

One good example of this is, "God helps those who help themselves," which I've heard quoted as if it's scripture many times. But it's not - its origins are actually in Ancient Greece. On the other hand, a favourite Bible passage of mine, Romans 8:28 (ESV) says something that is in some ways quite simiar, though more focused on God's help than on our abilities and efforts: "And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose."

An even more famous quote among Christians is, "We are in the world but not of the world." Now, this exact literal phrase cannot be found in the Bible, but numerous passages such as John 15:19 and 17:14 are logically and fully consistent with this phrase.

What that means in some ways is that Christians could be said to be "inside outsiders" - expected to participate and contribute to the betterment of all they're involved in, but not expecting to be accepted or fit in.

What's interesting is that, in the same way we're called to live as Christians in non-Christian contexts while contributing the best we can, sometimes we're also called to live as Christians with one cultural background in the context of Christians with another cultural background, and accept that we might not be as accepted as we think we should be, for the sake of our faith and calling.

Certainly, that's been my experience in the Catholic Church. While I can honestly say that my wife and kids are as culturally comfortable in the Catholic Church as any insider could be, and that I get more at home in it every year as well, I'll always feel like a bit of an outsider, always a bit uncomfortable with some cultural behaviors that I have no intellectual dissent about, but they just don't mesh with my culture and personality.

Fortunately, I've found that the more forgiving I'm able to be of my fellow Christians in the Catholic Church for being different from me, the more accepting they seem to be of me and my differences.

(Copyright (c) 2011, Reg Harbeck, all rights reserved)

How Many Books?

According to some of my Protestant friends, the fact that the book of the prophet Isaiah has 66 chapters and the Bible has 66 books hints at the idea that every chapter of Isaiah maps in some way to the book in the Bible in the same sequence order. (So Genesis would map to Isaiah 1 and Revelation would map to Isaiah 66.)

If that helps them study the Bible more carefully and draw new insights from it by trying to make that connection, I have no issue with their using that paradigm to deepen their understanding - though I consider it somewhat arbitrary.

However, it no longer works for me, because my Catholic Bibles have 73 books. Not only that, but there's extra stuff in the books of Esther and Daniel.

Now, before I start digging into these bonus books, let me put my Protestant readers at a bit of ease with these important facts:

1) There are no books missing - i.e. every book in a Protestant version of the Bible can be found in Catholic (and Orthodox) Bibles.
2) The New Testament canon (i.e. official list of books) is identical across Christianity - Protestant, Catholic and Orthodox.

That said, the first thing you may notice in the above facts is the mention of Orthodox Christianity, which split from the Roman Catholic Church around the beginning of the last millennium. That allows them to disclaim the conflicts that led to the Protestant Reformation, though there are theological differences between all three major branches of the faith.

In any case, here's the interesting thing: just like the Protestant canon of the Bible is a perfect subset of the Catholic canon, so the Catholic canon of the Bible is a perfect subset of the Eastern Orthodox canons (i.e. there are no books in the Catholic Bible that are absent from Eastern Orthodox Bibles) though there's some alternation between Catholic and Oriental Orthodox canons. A good review of these details can be found at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Biblical_canon.

Now, if there's one principle I found operating in my experience of Protestant Christianity more than other parts of the faith, I'd say it's simplicity. Which would suggest that the idea of there being more than one set of books in the Bible is probably a very uncomfortable idea for most Protestants.

Well, this one blog/chapter isn't going to make you comfortable with that idea. If you do get comfortable with it, it will likely be because you've studied those additional books, read commentaries on them, gotten to know the history of them, prayed about it, and/or discussed it with scholarly people who can help your understanding and comfort level with this oddity of Christian history.

The good news is: everything in the Protestant canon of scripture is accepted by every other part of Christianity. And that includes the Good News.

(Copyright (c) 2011, Reg Harbeck, all rights reserved)

No Fear, No Profits of Doom

One of the crazier things I've seen in modern Christianity - and particularly during my journeys through the more conservative parts of Protestant Christianity - is an abundance conspiracy theories. It's not that they're necessarily wrong - some may be right and some have a grain of truth, though perhaps others lack evidence of reality. What I have an issue with, though, is the fear implicit in so many that I've heard.

Among the most memorable sets of conspiracy theories I've heard are those based on Revelation 13:18, which talks about the number of the beast being 666, which is tattooed on people's hands and/or foreheads, and without which they can't buy or sell.

Now, to be clear, that passage is in the Bible, so I accept it as being true. But it's also the case that there's a lot of room to interpret what it means, and its implications for Christians. And while many interpretations I've heard seem plausible (such as RFID devices being implanted or personal ID numbers being tattooed similar to the concentration camps of World War II), none is conclusively provable. Hence, any specific interpretation is only a theory.

But what is not subject to valid conjecture is the idea that this should cause fear in the hearts of those who would not receive this marking or device because of their Christian faith. Such a fear of anything or anyone other than God is simply not a Christian attitude. To quote 1 John 4:18 (ESV), "There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear."

The relevance of this observation to this blog/book is that within the Catholic Church I've seen a lot fewer conspiracy theories that have implicit in them the idea that we need to be afraid. In fact, it's one of the things I appreciate about the Catholic Church's authoritative teaching on such matters, which makes it harder for charlatans and prophets of doom to creep in and sell fear to reap profits.

None of which means we should be naïve or dismiss the prospect of bad things happening. Rather, freed from fear, we can be able to more objectively consider and understand the possibility of things that could have an apparently negative impact on us in this life, secure in the assurance that the end of this life is just the beginning.

Or, to quote Matthew 10:16 (ESV), "Behold, I am sending you out as sheep in the midst of wolves, so be wise as serpents and innocent as doves."

(Copyright (c) 2011, Reg Harbeck, all rights reserved)

Tactile Prayer

What are the primary ways you interact with the world? Which of the five senses do you tend towards most in the language you use to express your experience?

Some say that if you're more prone to say "I see" than "I hear you" you may be a more visual than auditory person, and if you say you were touched by some word or deed, then perhaps you're a more kinaesthetic person.

I have no issue with this perspective, but I think that it points to a more important one: that we have more than one way of experiencing the world around us and, even if we do have one or two preferred senses, we interact using all the senses available to us.

And if there's one sense we can interact with that even the blind and deaf can use for a wide range of interaction, it is certainly the sense of touch - or, perhaps more exactly, the kinaesthetic sense, since we send as well as receive communication and action with it.

The funny thing is, we take it so much for granted that we often don't think of ourselves praying with this sense. We often use our voices and ears. And we read and see pictures that enable us to more fully immerse ourselves in worship, including by watching movies that inform and encourage our faith.

And yet, we all do use our sense of touch for prayer. A well-known illustration (literally) of this is Albrecht Dürer's famous Praying Hands drawing. We have a framed reproduction of this in our house, drawn by one of my wife's brothers.

Sometimes, we hold hands with others when we pray, or even put our arms or hands on their shoulders. And it is common to place hands on the head of those being prayed for.

One popular object that people may hold on to when praying is a small cross. And of course a Bible can be a great comfort to hold. These have the added value of occupying our hands so we are less prone to get distracted from prayer with fidgeting.

Since joining the Catholic Church, I have found a wide range of other tactile enablers of prayer, from physical objects such as rosaries to actions such as kneeling during certain parts of Mass and standing in others (not that the Catholic Church has a monopoly on these behaviors).

Still, most of those forms of prayer are more augmented by touch than expressed as touch.

But one form of prayer that I appreciate more and more is - or at least can be - completely tactile. That's crossing myself. It's true that there are words that can accompany it: In the name of the Father, and the Son and the Holy Spirit. However, it's not necessary to think or even say those words while crossing yourself. The action itself is a prayer, expressing everything in our hearts that we wish to lift up in that prayer.

As I have continued on my journey of discovering deeper ways of prayer, such wordless forms increasingly make their own kind of sense.

(Copyright (c) 2011, Reg Harbeck, all rights reserved)

Mosaic Christian Mosaic

When it comes to a single, simple statement of Judaeo-Christian morality, there's nothing like the Ten Commandments as handed down by God to Moses. Well, except that there are three different versions - so in that sense, there are three things like it.

Now, before you panic, rest assured that all three versions of these Mosaic imperatives are based in the Bible. They're just based on two different passages of the Pentateuch (Exodus 20:1-17 and Deuteronomy 5:4-21) and divided in different places. See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ten_Commandments for a side-by-side comparison of the three lists and explanation of how and why they're divided up.

Of course, this does create some ambiguity when the practitioners of Judaism and Catholic, Orthodox and Protestant Christianity try to discuss them. As mentioned in my chapter/blog about sibboleths, for example, Catholics treat the prohibition against taking the name of God in vain as the second commandment, while everyone else calls it the third.

Historians and conspiracy theorists may have a field day with why there are three lists rather than one, but my intention is to bring all these different pieces together into a single picture we can all use - sort of like a mosaic - not to stir up differences.

So, let me first point out that the total content of these two Bible passages is shared and agreed upon by all. There is no outside content introduced, and none removed. So, while emphases may vary, the substance is the same.

Second, perhaps a good analogy would be to refer to Noah instead of Moses for a moment. In Genesis 9:12-17, God designates the rainbow as a permanent sign of a covenant never again to destroy the world with a flood. But, you'll note, it doesn't say how many colours are in the rainbow.

Over time, those of us with our origins in Western Europe (among other geographies) have come to accept that the rainbow has seven colours: ROY G BIV - Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, Violet.

But, when Isaac Newton used a prism to split up a beam of white light into multiple colours, he didn't see lines between each of these colours, but rather a continuum which modern science recognizes as a spectrum of wavelengths that can be divided as finely as you wish, into an effectively unlimited number of colours.

And, when the first nations of North America looked at the rainbow, and the other colours around them, their practical needs caused them to divide them differently as well. Hence, for example, the Stoney Nakoda word "toh" means both blue and green - and, I'd bet, probably some of the spectrum moving towards violet as well.

Which brings me back to the purpose of this entire blog/book: divisions may not be merely arbitrary - they often have important meaning and histories - but when we mistake them for taking precedence over the underlying substance we've divided, we're missing the big picture. So let's take every opportunity to look deeper than those divisions, however important and practical they may be, and see the real meaning, Giver and purpose of our common faith.

(Copyright (c) 2011, Reg Harbeck, all rights reserved)

Speaking the Languages of Others

"Now you're speakin' my language!"

If someone says this in a movie, chances are they've just been offered a significant incentive such as cash to cooperate with their interlocutor.

Indeed, in my own experience, the way we acquire and use language is deeply interwoven with our perceived self-interest. And, once we feel we have a pretty firm grip on our language, it is very easy to negatively judge others who don't speak in exactly the same way as we do.

I'm reminded of the time when, while still in high school and working as a waiter, I had a patron from a different linguistic geography of the English-speaking world, who refused to understand me until I pronounced a word the same way he did, rather than the way everyone else I knew said it. And, as far as I could tell, he thought he was doing me a favour by correcting my apparent mispronounciation of this word. (I've long since forgotten the word, and I likely reverted to my previous way of saying it moments after he paid for his meal and left.)

Now, I'm the son of a pair of linguists, which is what my parents needed to be in order to properly carry out their mission of learning another language from scratch well enough to then translate the Bible into it. That means that I grew up surrounded by a language and culture that were not my own, and in the midst of parents who were constantly analyzing language and pronounciation.

As a result, I have a rather heightened sensitivity to the languages of others, and one of the things I've concluded is that no two peope speak exactly the same language. What that means, among other things, is that many conflicts which arise from misunderstanding begin with two (or more) people having different meanings in mind for the same word(s) or idiom(s).

One great example of this is the phrase "full of beans" which, all my growing up years, I understood to mean "full of baloney" or some similar reference to not knowing what you're talking about. So, you can imagine my surprise when the mother of the girl I'd eventually marry told me I was full of beans as if it was a compliment.

It turns out that some people (mostly of Protestant background in my experience) use the term "full of beans" like I understood it, and some people (mostly of Catholic background in my experience) use the term "full of beans" to mean "full of energy!"

Now, at least when speaking to each other, tone of voice and context give us a clue that perhaps there's another meaning intended. But when phrases and words with hidden different meanings get put in writing, for example in emails, one can imagine how it might stir up some hurt feelings.

Here's why these observations belong in this blog/book: many Christian communities unwittingly have their own vocabularies which they use to judge who is "in" and who is not. (See my blog/chapter on sibboleths for some examples.) That's a problem when a Christian of one denomination visits a church of another denomination and opens up their mouth to have a conversation about faith. Suddenly, every turn of phrase they use becomes a potential opportunity to be excluded or judged as "not yet saved" if it is different, or has a different expected meaning, from how their hosts talk.

My advice, based on experience, is twofold for those who would welcome fellow Christians without falling into such shallow judgmentalism:

1) If you are a visitor in someone else's community, understand that it's OK to try to learn and speak their language - you're not sacrificing your integrity or behaving cynically, you're just learning a new dialect.
2) If someone visits your community and seems to be saying all kinds of things that mark them as inferior to established members of your community, ask yourself if you're judging them by their dialect rather than accepting them non-judgmentally.

After all, as Jesus said in the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 7:1,2 (ESV), "Judge not, that you be not judged. For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you."

(Copyright (c) 2011, Reg Harbeck, all rights reserved)