One Church? Universal Church?

This short essay is from a Catholic perspective--but don't let that freak you out. My views might not be that different from yours:

When we recite the Creed at mass we assert our belief in “one Baptism for the forgiveness of sins.” And we say that we “believe in one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church.” But too often the reality is that we in the Christian community are splintered into groups that don’t talk to each other and don’t trust each other. The very word “Catholic” comes from a Greek word that means “universal.” So all throughout our Creed we are professing a church that is one, unified, and universal.

This oneness and universality of the Church has been aggressively promoted by Pope Francis. In fact, he takes his campaign for unity beyond the Christian churches, Orthodox and Protestant Christians, to Islamic and Jewish leaders. This is not a new movement in the Church. This was one of the great thrusts of the Ecumenical Vatican Council, Vatican II, convened in 1962 by St. Pope John XXIII.

We should pray for mutual respect and mutual understanding both within the Christian community and with non-Christian churches. That was a goal of our most recently consecrated saint, John XXIII, and our current Pope, Francis.

On the Feast of Corpus Christi, the Feast of the Body and Blood of Christ, we need to think about this issue of unity. When we receive the Eucharist we should remember that we as a community are the Body of Christ—let that body be one, united, universal!

*     *     *

After writing the above reflection, I was asked if somehow this issue connected to social justice concerns. It was then that I realized that I hadn't made my concerns explicit. They lurk between the lines--and maybe I was afraid to express them explicitly for fear of offending some people in the Church. The fact of the matter is that for my entire life (and most terribly in my youth) the Church has worked against unity, oneness, universality. In Catholic grade school I was told by some of my teachers that non-Catholics could not go to heaven. I once told that to my neighbor friend, Brian Cox. I hope Brian forgives me for that stupidity--I was echoing something I heard from an adult teacher. Also, we were forbidden from attending non-Catholic services as a kid. I bet I didn't attend a non-Catholic service until I was 23 years old. What were they afraid of? That my faith would be undermined or destroyed by going to a Methodist or Lutheran service? Well, maybe they were right. The stupid faith I had growing up would have been challenged indeed!

In more recent years I have been terribly offended and hurt by announcements in the church missal or from the pulpit that those who aren't Catholics cannot receive Communion, even when they believe almost the same things that we believe, even when they are Christians and people who live out the spirit of the Gospel. I have certain people in mind when I say this, people I work with in a church soup kitchen for the homeless--but I won't mention their names here. But in my mind, the Catholic church sins against the wishes of Jesus and the spirit of Christianity when it excludes my friends from Communion.

There are so many other examples of the Church sinning against unity/oneness/universality and not adhering to the guiding principle of "What would Jesus do?" I think especially of the discrimination against gay people, divorced people, and even former priests. A good friend of mine, a former priest of the Diocese of Erie, was excluded from Communion because he was not "laicized"--and he was not laicized because the Church put a hold on laicizing former priests, thinking (I imagine) that it would keep more priests from leaving. Ha ha!

So many sins of the church that I love! I want a welcoming Church!

An Example of a Famous Macaronic Song: "Siuil a Run"

A long time ago I learned a macaronic song, consisting of English, Irish, and nonsense words, called "Siuil a Run." I remember singing it at Notre Dame parties (1966-1970) with Mike Gerrity and maybe Brian Wilson. At the time I had no idea there were Irish-Gaelic words in the song (the very title means, "Walk, My Love!" in Irish). The title is pronounced /SHOOL ah ROON/.

Macaronic songs and poems incorporate at least 2 languages, and sometimes more (see my attempt at a macaronic poem in the previous blog posting). Wikipedia give the following as the lyric to "Siuil a Run." In fact, there is no definite lyric but many variations:

I wish I was on yonder hill

'Tis there I'd sit and cry my fill

And every tear would turn a mill

Is go dté tú mo mhuirnín slán

Chorus

Siúil, siúil, siúil a rúin

Siúil go socair agus siúil go ciúin

Siúil go doras agus éalaigh liom

Is go dté tú mo mhúirnín slán

I'll sell my rock, I'll sell my reel

I'll sell my only spinning wheel

To buy my love a sword of steel

Is go dté tú mo mhúirnín slán

I'll dye my petticoats, I'll dye them red

And round the world I'll beg my bread

Until my parents shall wish me dead

Is go dté tú mo mhúirnín slán

I wish, I wish, I wish in vain

I wish I had my heart again

And vainly think I'd not complain

Is go dté tú mo mhúirnín slán

But now my love has gone to France

to try his fortune to advance

If he e'er comes back 'tis but a chance

Is go dté tú mo mhúirnín slán

One translation of the Irish chorus is

Go, go, go my love

Go quietly and peacefully

Go to the door and flee with me

And may you go safely my dear.

 

A youtube performance by Clannad": http://youtu.be/4ZP-4B7kHqA

What Makes Each One of Us Different? Why Was I So Successful in School?

We are a crazy, mixed-up bunch of people--all of us. So different that it's hard to believe we are the same species. I guess if you looked down from the moon, we humans might look pretty similar. But I am struck by the differences. These differences are all the more striking within families. I have 3 daughters who are stunningly different, in appearance, in temperament, in so many other ways. My three brothers and my sister are all so different. What follows are a few guesses on why I am different from them.

To begin, I am the first-born kid in the family. I was even the first grandchild on my father's side. I imagine that the first born gets more attention than those that follow. Sometimes the parents and grandparents have more energy and even better health to deal with the first child or grandchild. I wouldn't use the "s-word" (spoiled), but the first-born has some advantages (and a few disadvantages, I might add). The first-born lives under stricter rules (in 3rd grade I had to be in bed by 8 PM during the school year; Jimmy probably went to bed after the Johnny Carson Show!). Sometimes the first-born lives in a family with very little money because the parents are at an early stage in their careers. I had to eat slum-gullion; Jim and Kev were chowing down on steak, those SOB's! Well, maybe I exaggerate a bit.

I know that I possess my parents' DNA, but there is enough shuffling that mother nature does that we brothers and sisters are pretty different. How did Denny get so tall? Mary Ellen so pretty? Why did Jim and Denny keep their hair (in contrast to Kev and me)? Why was Kevin such a fast runner and great football player? And how did he become a Republican, for God's sake!

One big question for me has to do with my success in school. Why did I do so well at all levels of school, from St. William's Grade School to St. Joseph High School, and to three colleges, the University of Notre Dame, the University of Cincinnati, and The Ohio State University? My simple answer is that I am more intelligent than my brothers and sister. But I know them too well to make that claim! I'm not that dumb and I don't want them to beat the crap out of me! We are all intelligent in our own ways. Somehow, my intelligence took me successfully through the American school system up to a doctorate degree.

I think my Dad especially gave me a lot of attention in my early years of schooling. He drilled me all the time on spelling and arithmetic. He took me to various libraries, Euclid Public, St. William's, and Cuyahoga County. And he read the newspaper and books--he was a fairly good model of a reader. He even managed to get hold of a magnificent set of used Collier Encyclopedias, one of the joys of my youth and adolescence.

Also, I really wanted to please my Mom and Dad by getting good grades in school. Later, I wanted to get straight A's because that would allow me to receive 7 pair of free Indians' baseball tickets. That played a huge role in my academic success.

One other strange factor was my sense of self. In first or second or third grade I was put into reading Group 2 at the beginning of the year. I'm guessing placement in that group was based on some sort of test scores. I remember thinking to myself (at age 6, 7,or 8): "I'm not group 2 material. I should be in Group 1, the top reading group." And then I proceeded to work real hard to prove to the teacher that I belonged in the top group. Within a week or so, I was moved to that group. Why did I think I was top-group material? Isn't that strange?

Along with this sense of myself, I was very competitive. I'm guessing that was partly a gift from my Dad and from my Grampa Coughlin--both very competitive athletes. This competitiveness helped me get into the top groups and helped me achieve top grades. It has been a theme through much of my life (occasionally to my detriment).

A couple of events probably shaped my life. When I was 2 going on 3, I was accidentally run over by my mother. The accident happened on Windermere Avenue in Willoughby. I had walked away from home to visit my Gramma and Grampa, who lived a block away on Hayes Avenue. My Mom didn't know where I was, and proceeded to back out our car to go looking for me. Unfortunately, as she was backing out, I was running up behind the car. I was seriously injured and had to be removed from under the car. I was taken by car to Huron Road Hospital in East Cleveland (a good 20 miles away), where they discovered a fractured skull, a concussion, and a broken collarbone, among other minor injuries. I was in the hospital for many days, a week I think. I remember vividly many details of this entire event. And I remember being so lonely in the hospital, without the presence of my Mom and Dad (at least at night). I remember them putting me in a crib-like bed, something I resented, thinking, "Here I am, almost 3 years old, and I'm put in something like a baby crib!" I remember that when I got out of the hospital, my Mom and Dad told me that I had turned 3 years old and that we were moving to a new house in Euclid, Ohio. Somehow, that accident and those days in the hospital shaped me.

Another important event that shaped my personality happened when I was 5-years-old and in Kindergarten. It must have been late winter or early spring of 1954 when I got an illness (measles, chicken pox, or influenza) that developed into pneumonia--very serious pneumonia. I remember going deaf at one point, and having severe vertigo where the room spun around. I had a terrible fever and remember Mom running frantically into the kitchen and putting me under the cold water to cool down the fever. As she turned on the water, spiders and snakes came out of the tap and I screamed. Then she rushed me to the bathroom tub, and did the same thing. Again, spiders and snakes came out of the faucet. The fever must have been very high to trigger hallucinations like that.

A doctor came to our house--this must have been the end of the era of home doctor visits. He prescribed a sulfa drug to treat my pneumonia, but it backfired, causing some sort of damage to my kidneys, as I ended up urinating blood. During this sickness I was stationed in my Mom and Dad's bed. I was totally (and temporarily, it turned out) deaf, had trouble breathing, and constantly coughed up thick mucus. I spent my day's between sleeping, looking at children's books (I couldn't read yet), and playing games with myself ("pick-up sticks" was a favorite). Something changed in me during that month-long sickness, something shaped my life-to-come. I was more interior, more reliant on my self and my imagination. I suffered through tremendous loneliness and isolation, and had survived. One day in early spring I saw my friends Brian Cox, Allen Lane, and Chucky Lintern playing in the yard. I was so sick that I couldn't go out and play with them. I felt a profound loneliness and even a sense of being deprived of life and vitality. I was determined that that would change. And it did.