Sunday Reflections

August 7 • 19th Sunday (Ordinary Time)

Our Father in Faith

The Letter to the Hebrews today sings a hymn of praise to Abraham and to his faith, upon which are founded the religions of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. Abraham is called “father” in faith by more people on earth than anybody else, numerous as the sands of the seashore or the stars of the heavens. Hebrews tells us it was this foundational faith that led Abraham to obey God’s call when he heard it, though he was called to journey to a land he did not know and told he would father a mighty race through a marriage he thought was barren. But Abraham’s faith, the author of Hebrews tells us, was his realization of what he hoped for, and the evidence of what he could not see. How often are we, in simple daily events of our own Christian vocation, called to an unfamiliar place or told we are to do something we do not believe we can? How fortunate we are to have Father Abraham as our guide and example!

Catholic Traditions

Last week’s “Treasure” noted that the official headgear of the pope, the tiara, has been set aside in favor of the miter. Although Pope Paul VI had a coronation in 1963 to begin his ministry as pope, he later gave his tiara away to the Catholics of the United States as a stimulus to end poverty. He took care to say that he was not abolishing the tradition of coronation, but his successor, Pope John Paul I, decided to have an inauguration to begin his tragically short term. His successors have chosen inauguration as well. Pope John Paul II felt that a return to the coronation custom would be inappropriate since the Church was mourning the sudden death of a man already nicknamed “The Laughing Pope.”

So the end of coronations came about not because Paul VI gave the crown away. There are more than twenty tiaras on hand at the Vatican. One is used every year to crown the famous statue of St. Peter, whose sandaled foot has been eroded to a bright shine by the hands of millions of pilgrims. Today, it is left to the individual pope to decide whether he will begin his formal reign with a coronation or an inauguration. Pope Benedict chose an inauguration, as did Pope Francis.


August 14 • 20th Sunday (Ordinary Time)

The Costs of Discipleship

Today’s responsorial psalm, Psalm 40, is more familiar to us with the refrain “Here am I, Lord.” This “Here am I” is Jeremiah’s great prophetic response to God’s call. But today’s story of Jeremiah and the refrain “Lord, come to my aid!” remind us that there are always two sides to following the call of God. The author of the Letter to the Hebrews knew this, too. He reminded his readers that even weighted down with burdens and sins, we can still persevere by keeping our eyes fixed on Jesus, who himself knew the shame and pain of the cross, but saw beyond it to the joy of sitting at the right of the throne of God.

Jesus himself gave the disciples a “sneak preview” of a baptism that would not be as wondrous as the one in the Jordan that inaugurated his ministry, but would be one of fire and anguish. Today’s words from scripture may not be terribly soothing, but in their honesty and strength we can acknowledge the difficulties of daily discipleship, and take comfort in the assurance of our own salvation in Christ.

Catholic Traditions

Long ago, a signet ring was an essential part of the wardrobe of influential people. A letter or document would be sealed with hot wax, and a signet ring pressed into the wax would affirm the origin of the document. In the case of the pope, at least from the thirteenth century, the ring was used to seal public documents with hot lead, saving the red wax for private letters. The public documents were called bullae after the Latin name for the lead stamp, and we still call them “papal bulls.”

It is not surprising, therefore, that a signet ring has long been bestowed as part of the inauguration of a pope. The ring is called the Pescatorio, or “Ring of the Fisherman.” It reminds the wearer of his link with Peter, and his responsibility to continue the apostolic ministry of “fishing for human beings.” Until 1842 it actually functioned as a signet ring. Now, each pope receives a new gold ring at the beginning of his ministry. It goes on the fourth finger of his right hand and bears some fisherman design, usually St. Peter casting nets from a boat, as well as the pope’s name in Latin. A custom that endures for the pope, but not so much for bishops, is for people being introduced to him to kiss the Pescatorio as a sign of respect for his teaching authority. Another enduring custom is for the ring to be smashed and defaced at the pope’s death, originally a way of preventing counterfeit deathbed documents.


August 21 • 21st Sunday (Ordinary Time)

Discipline

It is no accident that the words “disciple” and “discipline” are nearly identical. Their relationship in Christian faith and life, however, has fallen somewhat out of favor in the past generation, as certain prescribed Church rules and regulations have been reduced and relaxed. These rules were often referred to as “disciplines.” We are mistaken, however, to think that it no longer takes discipline to follow Christ. The Letter to the Hebrews assures us of that today. Our discipline is more like that of an athlete pursuing a victory or a personal best, or a musician striving for a concert career or to master a new piece of music. This discipline comes from desire, not from regulations. It was the desire to do the will of God that led Jesus on the path to his cross. It is that same desire he encourages in us today: to strive to enter through the narrow gate, to find ourselves in the kingdom with a surprising assortment of people who are there not because of mere observation of rules, but out of a genuine desire to recline at the table of the heavenly banquet.

Catholic Traditions

In recent decades, attention has shifted away from headgear as a symbol of a bishop’s authority to a more substantial symbol: the chair, called the cathedra. The word comes from the Latin word for a chair with armrests. It is exactly the reason why dining room sets were marketed in this country a few years ago with only one chair with armrests, the captain’s chair. In many rectories of a certain vintage, you will see only one chair with arms at the dining table, a sign to the assisting priests of their proper place in the constellation. For us, as with most Anglicans and some Lutherans, the cathedra is a sign of the teaching authority of the bishop. We inherited the symbolism of the chair from Roman civil life in the fourth century. A church that houses a cathedra is called a cathedral, and the chair may be used only by the bishop of that diocese. Priests who preside at liturgy there must use a different presidential chair.

You may find the cathedra in its most traditional place at the head of the apse, or against a side wall as was favored in medieval times, but increasingly bishops are locating the cathedra in the midst of the assembly of the faithful. In the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels, visitors will find no barrier to their trying out the cathedra, an expression of hospitality that helps the archbishop be mindful of those whom he serves.


August 28 • 22nd Sunday (Ordinary Time)

Humility

Have you ever been in a group of people–maybe on a tour, at a social gathering, or at church–and discovered that you have just been talking with a well-known author, corporate CEO, great scholar, or politician? Your first thought is the hope that you didn’t say anything to embarrass yourself; but your second thought is how much they seemed like such “regular” folks. What is it that makes people seem so “regular”? Today’s readings give us a clue when they stress the importance of humility.

It is so hard for us not to tell the first person who will listen how busy we are, how hard we work, how much money we donate, and how important our job titles are. We think these accolades make a difference to people, and if we don’t tell them, how will they ever know? But if our actions demonstrate our values, people will recognize our worth on their own. The words of Jesus show us how much better it is to let someone else recognize our worth than to be embarrassed because someone did not.

Catholic Traditions

Perhaps the most familiar traditional symbol that identifies bishops is the crosier that they carry. We see the shepherd’s staff and immediately rich images from scripture come to mind, as well as the recollection that the first to respond to Christ’s presence in our world were the shepherds. The staff is more than a walking stick; its crooked top is useful in snaring errant sheep but also in keeping the flock united. Bishops carry the curve outward, indicating their ministry to the wider flock, while abbots (and some abbesses, too) carry the crosier with the curve pointing in, indicating that their ministry is to the monastery alone.

The crosier was once also carried by the pope, but was phased out centuries ago. You may recall that in pre-“popemobile” days, the pope was often carried around on a portable throne called a sedia gestatoria. Since he didn’t do much walking, the need for a crosier was minimal. Pope Paul VI introduced the innovation of a walking staff in the 1960s, and everyone remembers Pope John Paul II’s walking staff, not a crook, but a delicately sculptured crucifix. Thus, the pope carries a “pastoral staff” rather than a crosier. Precisely because the pope’s ministry is universal, to the whole world, popes will likely leave crosiers in the hands of the bishops they commission for care of specific flocks.