Introducing the Rev. Mr. David Wells

Dear Reader,

It is with great excitement that I would like to announce to you the first major news about this blog, well, in forever.  A friend of mine, the Rev. Mr. David Wells, is a deacon-seminarian of the Archdiocese of Washington, D.C.  He will hopefully be ordained a priest in just a few months, and has agreed to join me as a contributor to this blog.  Mostly, he will be posting his homilies.  He may also post papers or links to papers he's writing at seminary.  He's a sharp one, so they should be interesting to read.  One hopes that Deacon Wells will also splash random thoughts from time to time, because his random thoughts are pretty good too.

I am eager to have Deacon Wells' contributions, partly because they will be good in themselves, and partly because they will increase content and broaden the overall perspective of the blog.  That can only be a good thing.  I've known Dave for a number of years now, and he's got an approach that is both laid back and yet serious, which translate to an evangelical zeal that challenges and yet is not at all off-putting.  Most importantly, he is a man of prayer, and I believe his words will inspire his listeners and readers to a more intense spiritual life.  If I can increase those who hear or read him, even by just five or ten per day, I will have done a good service to the Kingdom of God.

Surrounding the addition of Deacon Wells, and perhaps others, as contributor(s) to this blog, some other changes will come over it in the next few weeks and months.  They will mostly be small.  Their purpose will be to intensify the focus of the blog on the apostolate, especially with an eye toward exposing people to the holy Catholic religion.  Hopefully, this will help non-Catholics see the reasonableness and beauty of our way of thinking and living; hopefully it will help us Catholics to live and think in a more reasonable and beautiful way.


Yours,
Ryan Haber
Kensington, Maryland

In With the Old

Archbishop Raymond Burke is the head of the Apostolic Signatura, the Church's highest court, subject in law only to the Holy Father himself. On last Sunday, Oct 18, 2009, he sang the Tridentine Mass according to the 1962 Missal of Bl. John XXIII in St. Peter's Basilica in Rome. It was the first time the High Tridentine Mass was sung in Latin in St. Peter's for forty years.

In her blog, Mary Ann Kreitzer points out that forty might not be a coincidence. In biblical thought, it is the number signifying penance, conversion, and waiting for God. Forty is the number of days of rain in Noah's day; of days spent sitting in the ark waiting for the world to dry; of years wandered in the desert; of days til Nineveh be overthrown; of days our Lord spent fasting and praying. The thought is hers, and I got the beautiful picture (at right) from her as well.

I will not go nearly so far as to say that the Church has been in exile away from the true Mass, and now we've got it back. That's all bosh. Where the bishop is, there is the Church (according to St. Ignatius of Antioch); when the Pope speaks, Peter has spoken (according to St. Augustine of Hippo). The Church has given us a new liturgy, the Liturgy of 1971 of Paul VI. According to our Holy Father, that is and will remain the ordinary ritual for the Mass in the Latin ("Roman") church.

But I will go this far: I think the Church is waking up. I think we are finally starting to wander out of the desert of our own denseness. I think those who are daily deciding to stick with her come what may, have counted the cost, are counting the cost, and have a better sense of what we are doing. Fewer and fewer remain who do so only because everybody else is doing so. Just a couple generations ago, so many Catholics had memorized answers that they did not understand, felt they mustn't question or probe, and were mostly content not to do so. The faith of those who remain is harder won, and we may yet be made to fight harder still to continue in the race of faith. Sincere seekers are asking questions with an openness to answers, and they are being answered by knowledgeable Christians who are open to questions. I do not dare say that the Church has been chastened, but I think it is clear that we are being chastened. And we are waking up.

Click the picture for thoughts about Rev. Mr. Fernando Saenz' first mass as deacon

We will bring that wakeful alertness with us wherever we go. We will bring those questions, and those answers, to the world. We will bring our understanding with us when we go out, because God is giving us a new heart for Him. And we will understand what God is doing even when we do not understand the language of the liturgy in which He is doing it. From October 6 to 15, while traveling in Italy and Germany, I had occasion to attend Mass twice in English, once in Italian, and twice in German. The German sounded a LOT like English, and phrases here and there had refreshingly similar sounds, but I understood hardly any of it. I know more Italian than German, but the Italian sounded even stranger - singsongy and light. At one English-language Mass the microphones were turned down a bit low, so I missed most of it. "Why not Latin?" I thought, "Just as easy to understand!" The other English-language Mass was beautiful, quiet, with an air densely packed by prayer; that was the Mass in which my newly-ordained friend preached for the first time. Seven or eight of us filled up half the chapel. Several Italians, mostly young and presumably understanding only a little, popped in to take up the empty pews. They didn't know it was the day after Fernando's ordination. They didn't know English. We did not know Italian. But somehow, in that place, praying privately together, publicly as a community of new acquaintances and strangers except for Christ, we knew exactly what we were doing. The Mass is the Mass is the Mass, the same in every language and in every place. We knew exactly what we were doing. We were awake.

Somehow, I sense that the growing urge within the Church for the Tridentine liturgy, even if we experience it only periodically, is a sign that we are coming awake.

Ordination, a Cappuccino, and One Hell of a Town

I am in Rome right now, visiting the Eternal City for the third time in my lifetime.  My good friend from my seminary days, Fernando, was ordained to the Holy Order of the Diaconate today, and I came to see it happen.  The pictures of the ordination at the Altar of the Chair, inside St. Peter's Basilica in the Vatican City, did not come out so well because of the dim lighting inside the mammoth edifice.  Here's a picture of Fernando and me during the tour he gave us of his seminary.  (He's really not that much taller than I am; it's only that I am squatting to avoid making him feel bad on his ordination day.  Lolol.)  He will, if all goes as planned, be ordained a priest of Jesus Christ at the end of June back in his home diocese of Santa Fe, New Mexico.  The ordination was as beautiful as one would expect.  Nothing is done poorly in St. Peter's.

After the ordination, reception, and tour, my friend Trisha and I walked around Rome for a few hours, stopping for a late lunch and some souvenir shopping for friends back home.  Lunch was great.  Italians do food very, very well.  No place else could a panino, a simple ham and cheese sandwich, taste so excellent.  The gelato that followed... well, let's just say that I am a confirmed gelatoholic and have been for some time.  That is the real reason that I run, actually.  After lunch, before we began browsing our way through the shops north of the Vatican in the direction of the neighborhood where Fernando's family was holding his reception, I decided I needed a cappuccino.  Italians do coffee very well, too.  Only in Italy can it be 80* and a coffee somehow feel refreshing.  Trisha doubted me, but after a nice lunch in the shade on a pleasantly warm day, a cappuccino really did the trick.  I don't usually drink very much caffeine, but this didn't bother me.  In fact, only eight hours later, I am still wide awake blogging.  Nope, the caffeine really wasn't a problem.  As we walked and browsed back, the Holy Father drove by.  Trisha ran into the store where I was browsing Italian religious books and pulled me out just in time to see him.  That was a pretty cool treat - we were within twenty feet or so and could see him waving through the open windows of his street vehicle (not the popemobile, because this wasn't actually a public appearance... he was just appearing in public).

The reception was at a restaurant near the Chiesa Nuova, where a prayer vigil was held the night before for the deacons-to-be.  Please do me a favor and do not ask Trisha why we missed the prayer vigil.  I'll never hear the end of it.  Anyway, about the church:  The church is actually named, but never called Santa Maria di Somethingorother; I think there are too many Santa Maria's in Rome, so at some point somebody decided to start with a new name.  Chiesa Nuova, "Newchurch," if we were in England, seems to have stuck unofficially but unambiguously.  Now the restaurant near the church was called Don Mario's, and man, was it good!  First course, all kinds of appetizers: bruschette, prisciutti, polpi, formaggi, and more.  Then two pastas, one in some sort of vodka or arrabiatta sauce, the other in an alfreddo.  Then the meats: veal, chicken, pork, ham, sausage, beef, with a portion of each for everybody.  Then the desserts.  The fifth course was the coffees and the lemon sorbet, to clean out the palette.  It was really good.  I do not normally go on about food so much, but it was excellent.

After dinner we all walked back, each party going its separate way as we went.  Trisha and I took some pictures during the blue night.  There's one to the left.  I think it is of Castel Sant'angelo, that in older days guarded the way to the Vatican perhaps, but now only guards museum exhibits.  The only problem with Rome is that it is so damn ugly and un-photogenic.  I mean, really.  That's the Tiber, lazily reflecting those horrible lights.  Lolol.  Actually, if you haven't noticed my tongue in my cheek, let me come clean and tell you that Rome is beautiful.  As I type this blog post overlooking the Viale di Trastevere, the main street in the neighborhood of the hotel where I am staying, I can honestly say that sometimes seems difficult to find a spot in Rome that is not photogenic.  One of Fernando's close friends is here with his wife, and neither of the two is Catholic.  This crowning achievement that is Rome has certainly overwhelmed them, especially the gems like St. Peter's, Maria Maggiore, and the Sistine Chapel.  If they are not convinced of Catholic truth, they are certainly stunned by Catholic beauty.  We joked about how ugly churches so often are, Catholic or Protestant, back in the States.  Smaller than St. Peter's is a given, but ugly need not be.  We Christians owe it to the world to show the goodness of our beliefs and morals with the beauty of our lives and works.  We Catholics have a sacramental faith that makes physically manifest God's glory and love.  We Catholics owe it to our separated brethren to lead the way.

God's Mighty Deeds

Yesterday, a good friend of mine was ordained to the Holy Order of Deacon, with a view toward ordaining him, if it please God, as a priest of Jesus Christ in the year to come. Dave Wells, the ordained man I have in mind, is generally a great guy. He is laid back as they come, yet not a slacker. He is intelligent, but does not think of himself as intelligent. At least, he doesn't come across as someone who thinks he's smarter than everyone else. He's athletic and cocky, but mostly in a playful way. I've gotten to know him reasonably well over the last 4 or 5 years.

And today, on Corpus Christi, A.D. 2009, he preached for the first time. It's twelve hours now and I am still reflecting on his words, which never happens to me. Normally, it's all in one ear and out the other. His homily shocked me because it was not like I had expected. I am not sure I expected one thing or another, but this homily was not it. His theme might be summarized as God's Mighty, Saving Deeds. He rightly focused heavily on the factual reality of God's real, miraculous acts in real history - from the Red Sea to Calvary to our modern, individual lives. His interpretation of the scripture readings for the day (Ex 24:3-8; Ps 116; Heb 9:11-15; Mk 14:12-16, 22-26) was simple but powerful. His theological development was solid, and substantial without the density normally connected with solid meat, and without the fluffiness that often springs from trying to be simple. His words were eloquent without being pretentious in the least. Most importantly with regards to his rhetorical style, he was concise. He laid out the basic message of the Gospel more clearly and directly than I have heard in a long time from the pulpit.

And his passion! I kept thinking, "Where is this man from?!" and "Is this the same man that had beers and pizza with me last week at my kitchen table?" and "He golfs too much to sound like this!" It was his first public preaching, to be sure, but his very few slight stumbles were covered over by his passion. No fire and brimstone from Dave Wells - just the burning passion borne of solid conviction about an important message and, I believe, deep prayer.

I've "heard" the Gospel a hundred times; this morning it woke me up again.

I wish more people could have heard the Rev. Mr. Wells' homily this morning at St. Pius X parish in Bowie, Maryland. You can read it by clicking here and I highly encourage you to take three or four minutes to do so. Hearing him preach made it easier for me to be hopeful for the Church. It was good to be reminded that God still does mighty, saving deeds. Real miracles. Like getting Dave Wells ordained a deacon. (Ha ha! Just kidding, Dave.)