Deacon? (15) The Eucharist (3)

There is much in the following lines from among those I have gathered and noted, that leaves me disappointed that I cannot share more readily in what others around me believe. I am left sighing, and slowly shaking my head at the lack of any real emotion when reading them, but only until I switch back to the other face, the real face (for me) of my belief and appreciation of my faith.

Therein lies a greater disappointment for me: that I am unable to give to others what I have myself received.

We each have to make our journeys alone; not without support, encouragement, teaching, company, empathy, whatever may be needed from time to time in the external taking of steps and in the passage of what may run into many years, but in our minds and hearts. The transference of our central source of commitment, strength, trust and hope from the former, external supply to the latter is a subtle but defining change; one that can be influenced by others but brought about only by our own deep and very personal answering “Yes” to an invitation to step off the edge and into what may at first appear to be a limitless void. It is a moment of commitment to vulnerability and “to radical availability”, not, through ordination, to the Church as superficially perceived, nor to the hierarchy, but to Christ Himself. That this may later manifest itself as a form of commitment to His Church is a secondary form of “radical availability” which for some will become the required and fundamental presence of themselves at the core of their response to a vocation to the diaconate.

- ‘The basis and motivation of this formation “is the dynamism of the order itself”, while its nourishment is the Holy Eucharist, compendium of the entire Christian ministry and endless source of every spiritual energy.’

- ‘The centre of his spiritual itinerary must be the Holy Eucharist since it is

 the touchstone of the deacon's life and activity,

 the indispensable means of perseverance,

 the criterion of authentic renewal and of a balanced synthesis of life.’ 

- ‘The interior of the Church, the life of the Church within, centres on two things: the Word of God and on the Eucharist. These are the two aspects of the inner life of the Church from which all her other vision, all her activity flows.’ (Cardinal Hume)

Both my reasoning and my instincts find a welcome reminder of my too frequently buried understanding of the importance of the Eucharist to the Church in the following paragraphs from the Catechism of the Catholic Church.

They also provide a summary of the reasons for what could be taken as an unnecessary cause of my confusion between the Church’s teaching and my own certainties, which, at root, are fundamentally one and the same thing. At the centre of both is the all-pervading presence of Christ himself.

Finding Him and allowing Him access to our lives is the personal alpha and omega that opens up a whole new world and reveals His presence in all things.

CCC 1324   The Eucharist is "the source and summit of the Christian life."

"The other sacraments, and indeed all ecclesiastical ministries and works of the apostolate, are bound up with the Eucharist and are oriented toward it. For in the blessed Eucharist is contained the whole spiritual good of the Church, namely Christ himself, our Pasch."

CCC 1327   In brief, the Eucharist is the sum and summary of our faith: "Our way of thinking is attuned to the Eucharist, and the Eucharist in turn confirms our way of thinking."

Hearing or reading, as an isolated phrase, that the Eucharist contains “the whole spiritual good of the Church” is experienced as being in conflict with “the whole spiritual good” which I sense as being at the heart of my conviction, but in the time it takes to read just three more words, “namely Christ himself,” all is made well and all rifts are healed. 

He is found, experienced and followed in different ways, and just as the variety of our sins and sinful tendencies does not alter the fact that we are all sinners and equals in our sinfulness, thus equally acceptable and welcomed in the Church, so our sharing in the same centrality of Jesus Christ in outwardly contradictory ways does not separate us from each other as equally faithful members of His Church.

 

‘To each his own’ sums up not only our weakness, but our individual needs and ways of accessing and receiving Truth, as well as the Spirit’s ability to satisfy those needs in ways that lead us to follow the individual paths laid out before us.

Deacon? (14) The Eucharist (2)

Realizing that we are asked to give our all, does not necessarily bring confirmation of any need to believe all that we are told to believe.

In my own case, at least, it has become another source of confirmation that I should not replace or dilute my own certainties with obedience to, or belief in, laid down definitions and rules which are declared, with apparent certainty, to be the reality and the truth which I am trying to follow. Indeed, it helps to make clear that which should already have been clear enough: that real belief in something has little to do with what we have been told.

 We can have real faith in something without genuine belief, just as where we have real belief we have no need of faith; and whatever we do have is not real faith. However clear it might seem to others, we alone can decide where lies certainty, where belief, and where faith within the confusions, doubts, hopes and longings which are ever restless within us.

I have never been able to make an honest declaration as to my own genuine belief in this area. 

On the one hand has been my inability to say that I believe everything I have been taught, because that has never been true, and I would never have declared otherwise; hence a lifetime of silence on the subject.

On the other hand, and contributing to that same silence, had been my fear that others might learn of my unbelief. That fear no longer exists; though perhaps a shadow of it still lingers. I am a Catholic, after all.

It left me when, after so many years of only half believing, and being a great deal less than half willing to admit to my doubt, I finally made the decision to recognize on which side of the increasingly unstable fence I had already fallen.

To say that I have difficulty with what the Church expects me to believe is barely true today; my concern and sense of guilt and failure for not believing has faded to almost nothing with the passage of time and with my unconscious choice of life without such drains on my equilibrium and spiritual peace. I do feel somewhat out of place at times, but I am comfortable with my unspoken refusal to feel uncomfortable any longer. I have no way of altering what is deeply felt, and can therefore say nothing that hides the fact that my belief here is not as the Church would wish.

I have already made clear that my conscience will not allow me to become a Eucharistic Minister  (10.01.11  An ongoing call), as I believe strongly that anyone receiving communion in the Catholic Church has a right to assume that the person from whom they receive either the host or the chalice has the same level of belief in the transformed nature and qualities of the bread and wine as themselves: a belief that complies fully with and conveys the teaching of the Church. In uttering the words “The body of Christ” or “The blood of Christ, the speaker should have a conviction that at least parallels, if not exceeds, the degree of belief with which the hearer receives and takes what is offered.

With this being such an essential part of the deacon’s core beliefs and function, it is surely impossible that I could fit the required profile.

I do not qualify for any of the following tasks.

The deacon is called

to be custodian and dispenser of the Eucharist.

              to conserve and distribute the Blessed Eucharist.

to distribute the Body of Christ to the faithful during the celebration of the Mass.

              to assist in the distribution of Holy Communion and administer the chalice if communion is given under both kinds.  

to participate at the celebration of Holy Mass as a “minister of the Blood”. 

to sanctify when he administers the Sacrament of Baptism, the Holy Eucharist and the sacramentals. 

to administer Viaticum to the sick.

to bring Viaticum to the dying, 

to be an ordinary minister of exposition of the Most Blessed Sacrament and of eucharistic benediction. 

to give formation to extraordinary ministers of Holy Communion 

to take communion to homes, care homes and hospitals. 

       

 But my disqualification goes deeper than the particular tasks involved. 

The Eucharist is regarded as the source of almost all that is available to us in our journeys toward, and our relationships with God: the Powerhouse for the abilities and willingness needed in the successful performance of our Christian duties, whatever they may be.

It is here too that my certainties appear to block my way to the expected conformity. It sounds so contradictory, but I find it impossible to be led by teachings, arguments and expectations which do not blend with the underlying strengths contained in my certainties. They are based on experiences that have changed me utterly over the intervening years, and which can never be set to one side. Even as the ability to immerse myself in the remembered feel of experience has gradually slipped away, the memory itself has not; and today I still have the living awareness of the fact that I did experience that of which my memories are made.

Quite simply, that inexplicable experience and undeniable memory was of the presence of Jesus walking beside me. He was my constant companion. (I shall not write of it again.) This is the heart of my certainties: that Jesus is real; that He is alive; that He is risen. He is present to us, in and with the Holy Spirit, and I can never again believe otherwise. My difficulty with the Church’s teaching on the Eucharist is simply that I find it to be superfluous in my life. (Do I really dare to admit that?) I already know that He is with me: I can never say otherwise. I am unable to understand how it can give me what I know I already have. He has blessed me with His presence, and I cannot undo that fact.

I receive communion with reverence and with an acknowledged need to do so: I even long to do so, but I do it, as He asked, in memory of Him. Not only in memory of the fact that He lived among us two thousand years ago, but also in memory of His presence: His company. This carries within it a constant reminder that He is with us still, that He has changed my life, and that I am still waiting: waiting for Him to make known that which will satisfy my constant consciousness that He still requires something of me. Perhaps that something is simply to always remember that He is still with me, as my companion and friend, and to always be ready … for whatever may come.

What more can I say?

Deacon? (13) The Eucharist (1)

The Eucharist

The candidate must or should

 have Eucharistic devotion.  

 be dedicated to our Lord in the Eucharist. 

 be “nourished by prayer and above all by love of the Eucharist.”    

The deacon    

Is called to adore the Lord, present in the Sacrament: the Blessed Eucharist, source and summit of all evangelization, in which “the     whole spiritual good of the Church is contained”. 

              Should visit the Blessed Sacrament out of devotion.

Making sense of all that a deacon is required to do concerning the Eucharist is achievable only when the above points are already understood.

A member of the Catholic Church for whom transubstantiation is an undoubted reality, will instinctively accept and expect not only the need for these beliefs and affections but their pre-existing presence in he who has been, or who is about to be ordained.

Many others will have their doubts, to lesser or greater degrees, but will successfully hold them at bay; some by making a point of not dwelling on such potentially troubling ideas, while others will remain aware of them and pray frequently for help with their recognized levels of unbelief. Some may never stop to consider what they actually believe, returning to the communion queue week and month and year after year, with little genuine awareness other than that they are maintaining the routine that became their norm years before.

I do not make these assumptions with any sense of disapproval, disappointment or despair, but merely as part of what I take to be the real world; the world in which there are people like myself, who declare – without any shadow of doubt – that they are Catholics, and yet find it impossible to deceive themselves where such belief is concerned.

We sit, kneel and pray with others, each with his or her own degree of acceptance or otherwise of something in which we all share. We are not separated by these unrevealed differences; we are even, perhaps, bound together more closely by our silences on the subject, in much the same way as we are bound by our sharing of the knowledge that each one of us is a sinner. We know (if we do not, then we shall one day learn) that we do not all share the same weaknesses; what is regarded as being nothing at all by my neighbour may be a seemingly undefeatable temptation to me, while his or her lifelong struggle or barely noticed natural but sinful trait, may leave me puzzled as to how anyone could possibly live that way. All these differences and the potential disruption and fragmentation that is prevented by our not telling all to everyone around us are part of the reality in which we live, and until we are ready to be completely honest with each other – not with everyone, but with the smaller number of people we regard as our closer spiritual friends – it is best that we remain, for the most part, silent.

Venturing only part-way into our personal truths invites misunderstanding, and shared misunderstandings are always fuel for distancing, non-cooperation and separation; enemies of fellowship, ecumenism and of Christ’s Church itself. Going deeply and honestly into our personal doubts and certainties may be a frightening prospect, but its practice will teach each one of us that our spiritual path leads into an “all or nothing” situation.

And this is precisely the lesson  we all need to learn. It is our all that is being asked of us.

Learning it, believing it, and longing to give it, has the power to change us utterly.

Again I find myself referring to those same words of Cardinal Newman; while not applicable only to this subject, in the present context they express that going beyond a merely partial honesty with each other is one of the risks we are called to take.

‘Perhaps the reason why the standard of holiness among us is so low, why our attainments are so poor, our view of the truth so dim, our belief so unreal, our general notions so artificial and external is this, that we dare not trust each other with the secret of our hearts. We have each the same secret, and we keep it to ourselves, and we fear that, as a cause of estrangement, which really would be a bond of union. We do not probe the wounds of our nature thoroughly; we do not lay the foundation of our religious profession in the ground of our inner man; we make clean the outside of things; we are amiable and friendly to each other in words and deeds, but our love is not enlarged, our bowels of affection are straitened, and we fear to let the intercourse begin at the root; and, in consequence, our religion, viewed as a social system is hollow. The presence of Christ is not in it.’ (‘Christian Sympathy’.) 

Deacon? (12) Obedience & Marian devotion

Obedience

The candidate must or should

have a capacity for obedience.  

be willing to promise obedience to the Archbishop and his successors.  

be willing to take the Oath of Fidelity and make a profession of faith according to the

        approved formula.  

be willing to put himself in the hands of the bishop and those the bishop has chosen to

        carry out the discernment and formation process.  

have a natural inclination for service to the sacred hierarchy.

The deacon is ordained 

to serve ... in hierarchical communion with the bishop and priests.

A genuine education in obedience, instead of stifling the gifts received with the grace of ordination, will ensure ecclesial authenticity in the apostolate. 

However great or small my capacity for obedience may be would depend on who and what required or demanded my obedience. I have no doubt that if I felt that I was being called to ordination I would have no trouble with accepting the need to promise obedience to superiors in the hierarchy. Without that calling, it is no surprise to me that I could not promise such obedience; nor, in my present circumstances, can I imagine my conscience allowing me to take an Oath of Fidelity.

I may have some ‘natural inclination for service’ but it would be directed towards those in need of whatever I was capable of providing, not to the hierarchy.

Marian devotion

He must or should

have Marian devotion.

show a deep love and veneration for the Virgin Mary, the Mother of God. 

link profoundly, love for Christ and for His Church with love of the Blessed Virgin Mary

       (Mother and selfless helper of her divine Son's diaconia). 

express love of the Mother of God in daily recitation of the Rosary, imitation of her virtues

       and trust in her.

Let Mary, handmaid of the Lord, be present on this journey and be invoked as mother and

       auxiliatrix in the daily recitation of the Rosary. 

I have had a long-running struggle with the tension that exists between the Catholic devotion to Mary and the perceived idolatrous worship of her as proclaimed by other Christian denominations when viewing Catholicism from outside. Based on my own experience of devout Catholics living in near poverty, and, through their trust in God, and their simple rural outlook on life, remaining for the most part unaware of that fact, I can understand the underlying reasons for their turning to Mary for most of the comfort they derive from their faith. But when watching such people it is easy to see why others believe that we worship her when we should be worshipping our Lord.

I appreciate Mary’s place in the Church, and I would in no way wish to be without her; indeed she is inseparable from it, and the Church would not exist without her; but always, always, I see her only pointing the way to Jesus: the way we should all be going.

I have never had any sense of her wanting me to stop before her as I follow her direction, and have no particular devotion to her because it is so clear that she does not want to become the object of my attention. 

Once again the specified requirements for the deaconate rule me out.

Deacon? (11) Inclination

Most of the points in this final group fall readily under the headings: - Inclination, Obedience, Marian devotion, and The Eucharist.

There are also a few sentences centred on marriage and celibacy in connection with the diaconate which I will include at the end. They do not belong with the above headings as I have no difficulty in this area; I simply know unflinchingly what I believe and value most and I know that my priorities will always be as they have been thus far.

First, however, in the interests of being as thorough and as honest as possible, I include the following few items. They raise doubts in me, but no feeling great enough to warrant my extending the length of this response by spending time on them, other than to say that being ‘orthodox both in belief and practice’ and being ‘watchful of doctrine’ are bound to be included here when one considers the headings that follow, and that being ordained ‘to radical or complete availability’ will necessarily be included with my thoughts on the weighing of marriage with ordination.

The candidate must be

orthodox both in belief and practice.

educated to a sense of belonging to the body of ordained ministers ...

The deacon is called

to celebrate the Principal Hours, namely, Morning and Evening Prayer. 

to recite as much of the Prayer of the Church as he can. (insofar as his circumstances allow)

                 to strive to assist daily at Mass.  (where possible)

                 to be watchful of doctrine. 

The deacon is ordained

to radical availability.

to devote himself to the Church by means of complete availability. 

Inclination

The candidate must or should

be inclined toward the ministry.

have won the respect of the clergy and faithful by having lived a truly Christian life for a long time   

         and by showing that his nature and disposition are inclined towards the  ministry.

be accepting of the call of the Church.

              be willing to make a life-long commitment to serve the Church.  

To my mind, an inclination to the ministry could be taken in any one of three ways. 

    1.)  As a legitimate pointer towards a vocation.

    2.)  As indication of a wish to become part of the hierarchy for reasons other than a true vocation.

   3.) Where the inclination is to ministry rather than ‘the ministry’, it would suggest a real will to offer time and help where it may be needed. The precise form of the help would depend on the individual experience, talents, gifts and character of the person so inclined, and their involvement, if to be closely linked with members of a Church community rather than the broader community, would need the approval and at least partial involvement of the relevant ordained priest or deacon.

While not applicable to me, it should of course be hoped that among those with such an inclination there may be people whose willingness might be transformed into a vocation.

Being ‘willing to make a life-long commitment to serve the Church’ goes a long way beyond any simple inclination to ministry within its visible boundaries. It also comes close to involving a requirement of obedience.

Deacon? (10) Self exclusion

The final group of points contains those which, even before my searching and reading began, were known to be reasons for my not becoming a deacon. They automatically exclude me, and, because I have never wanted to become a deacon, and have never had any hint of the possibility of God wanting me to do so, that sense of exclusion in no way troubles me. It is part of my awareness of not having been, and not now being so called. Once again it is my certainties that have made a straight and level road of what might otherwise have been a prolonged, disturbing and tortuous route along the wrong path.

That too confirms to me that the path on which I am travelling is the right one for me, though after twenty years of following it I still do not know what it is to which I am being led.

I would be more worried about this but for there having been times when it has seemed essential that I protest and work to defend myself against wrongs and false accusations, but have somehow managed to do nothing, in response to being guided to do precisely that: to wait, trusting God, and doing and saying nothing in my own defence. In due time everything that had been heaped against me evaporated as though it had never been, and my professional reputation – in the minds and places where I felt it to be of real consequence – remained intact.

That mattered a great deal to me; and allowing everything to happen around me without raising a word in my own defence was the greatest test of trust I have as yet endured. The “all will be well” implication accompanying the instruction to be still, to wait, to do nothing, proved to be the truth.

I also believe its source to have been The Truth.  That too built further on my certainties.

There are still times when I get caught up in the fact that I still don’t know where I am going or what it is that I should be doing; evidence of this has been posted more than once among these pages; but as soon as the stress begins to build I know that I am again being told to wait; I hear once more those quiet words:  “Be still ...”    “Be still ...”

And I am content; I am at peace once more.   For what else could I possibly ask?

Whatever lies ahead: whatever it is to which I am called, I have long believed that I shall know it when it comes. I pray that I am right. Yet I still ask myself, at times, whether I might already have arrived but have failed to recognize the fact. It feels as though my confidence in Him and my need to leave it all in the hands of my Lord is still being tested; perhaps I have yet to be taken even further into the depths and the meaning of placing all my trust in Him.

Without some of my past experiences, I would be unable to admit to some of the difficulties which have confronted me while compiling my lengthy list of qualities and expectations associated with the diaconate. Almost every difficulty has arisen because the points in this group (as shown below) relate to every Catholic, not just to deacons. Unlike my hard to accept call to remain silent, outlined above, saying nothing would be the easy way through life where these points are concerned. Admitting to difficulties arising from some of the Church’s core beliefs is not what most people would willingly want to hear from me, but if the truth is not to be told, then I should not even hint that I have anything to say. I should allow people to gain the impression that I have given no real thought to this matter since being asked the question that started it all. The truth, however, is that many hours of thought have gone into my response.

The short answer remains the same as that which I gave when the question arose; I have known that answer for a long time. But, as stated from the beginning, I needed to understand clearly for myself why I had been, and still was, so sure that the answer is that the diaconate is not for me.

The quotation from the Archdiocese of Westminster Handbook (at the end of Diaconate (3)) speaks of the sowing of seeds, and as I heard them, that is what the words of the question were. Believing that, I could not allow the questioner to assume they had fallen on stony ground or among thorns; they had not. It was rather that, in my eyes at least, the soil and the seed did not appear to match; neither of them was wrong, unproductive, or sterile, but they had to be given time: to await the unseen work of the Holy Spirit, not to generate a vocation where there was not meant to be one, but perhaps to produce unimagined fruit from the combined responses of both questioner and he to whom the question had been directed.

Who can know where the White Dove, having taken a seed in its bill, might go? ...what it might do with it? ...how?  ...when?  ...and why?  Ours is not to know such answers; only to trust that something, somewhere, sometime, apparently unconnected maybe, will come of it.

Perhaps my response could have been taken as evidence of workings contrary to everything I had written, and of which I remained blissfully unaware. I write that with a smile, as I am being careful not to contradict what I have already written about not knowing what will come to pass. And as well as that, echoes of other noted lines will not quite be silenced:

‘Alongside God's call and the response of individuals, there is another element constitutive to a vocation, particularly a ministerial vocation: the public call of the Church. (This) should not be understood in a predominantly juridical sense, as if it were the authority that calls which determines the vocation, but in a sacramental sense, that considers the authority that calls as the sign and instrument for the personal intervention of God, which is realised with the laying on of hands.

In this perspective, every proper election expresses an inspiration and represents a choice of God. The Church's discernment is therefore decisive for the choice of a vocation; how much more so, due to its ecclesial significance, is this true for the choice of a vocation to the ordained ministry.’     (Basic Norms for the Formation of Permanent Deacons. 29)

It is not that those words have been written; nor is it that I have read them and been mildly discomforted by them; the reason for hearing their message, and believing that there is more to arriving at one’s destination than one had at first supposed, is that we must accept that we can never know anything with certainty. Even my own certainties, inevitably reshaped in unknown ways within me, must not be completely relied upon if I am to be truly open to the prompting and guidance of the Holy Spirit. I can have absolutely no preconceived and impenetrable ideas.

I am duly cautioned by that thought.

Deacon? (9) A blurred line

We should all

‘be mindful that the lay members of the faithful, in virtue of their own specific mission, are “particularly called to make the Church present and fruitful in those places and circumstances where it is only through them that she can become the salt of the earth”. (Lumen Gentium, 33.)

These words remain as true as ever, but the drastic alteration in the nature of the threshold has, I believe, led to a corresponding expansion of the territory in which they can become that salt.

The diminishing numbers of vocations – as the Church has become used to seeing them – coupled with the general public’s declining respect for the clergy, due, in part at least, to the adverse publicity of recent years (founded on truths, however small the minority on which those truths are based) may have made the responses of lay men and women to their callings the crucial next stage in the necessary rebuilding of confidence and fellowship within the Church.

There are clearly defined priestly functions directly related to the Eucharist and to the Church’s gathering around the altar for mass.

The “diaconia at the altar, since founded on the Sacrament of Orders, differs in essence from any liturgical ministry entrusted to the lay faithful. The liturgical ministry of the deacon is also distinct from that of the ordained priestly ministry.”

Beyond these functions, however, I suggest that there are very few areas from which members of the laity should be absolutely excluded on the grounds of their not being members of the defined hierarchy. Beyond the demands of charity and justice, it is not with answering the call of, or being obedient to men that we should be concerned; we must consciously dwell within earshot and within reach of both the Spirit’s leading and of each other if we are to discern our individual and collective callings and intended direction.

Reading that,

‘if married, (a deacon) is at the interface between the secular and sacred and so is a primary agent of evangelisation and mission, configured to Christ the Servant in the midst of contemporary culture’

has reminded me to state clearly that nothing I write here, and none of the thoughts giving rise to my writing, is intended to give the impression that I do not believe in the value and the relevance of the permanent diaconate today. I do believe in its importance but, in the context of individuals as opposed to the local community or wider Church, only for those who truly have that particular vocation.

I have had experiences (fleeting only) of deacons who have left me with doubts as to whether or not God would truly have called them to ordination, but, in spite of being unable to completely shed the memory, I do, of course, admit that I am in no position to judge whom God may call to what, and why. Simply knowing that He wants me, of all people, not to simply believe in His existence but to be in a real relationship with Him, as a friend, is more than enough to silence my doubt; other than in such a context as this, where my honesty is not only relevant but essential.

I have also had the best of experience of deacons: one being the husband of the lady with whom I had been talking when first asked whether I had thought of becoming one, and the other being Louis Kelly, recently deceased, of St Joseph’s parish in Malvern. It is impossible to doubt that such people as these are much needed in the Church and that they have responded to very real vocations.

They are also examples of the sort of Christians much needed to be formed and to remain among the laity, where they too will be influential ‘at the interface between the secular and sacred and so … a primary agent of evangelisation and mission, configured to Christ the Servant in the midst of contemporary culture’.

The widening of the threshold into a broad expanse was always nothing more than a personal and unexpected way of seeing one aspect of the Church today. It also proved to be a purely temporary phenomenon which contracted back to its former narrow dividing line; but not before it had drawn my attention and stirred my thoughts in ways which would not otherwise have come to expression here.

Those thoughts were beckoned into the empty central field where I was given the space in which to wander and found myself walking far closer to the ‘maximum’ line, the crossing of which cannot be avoided by those who are ordained. It would not have been possible to walk there without the threshold having been expanded to that far larger scale. Persons attempting to, or actually doing so, could be in danger of finding themselves falling onto the wrong side of it, whether through desire for some share in the power, authority, perceived superiority, or other misguided or imagined attribute conferred by ordination; or through arrogance, or simply having no real idea of what they were doing.  They would be on the wrong side because of arriving there for any reason other than the only right one: a vocation.

I had to remind myself that this was not just another slow stroll in the countryside, alone with my thoughts. This was the ground we are all being asked to step onto: the place where we are called to meet – meaningfully, in peace, in fellowship, and in His name. 

But where was everybody? I returned from my wanderings dwelling on the disconcerting fact that I had been there completely alone.

Looking at the threshold now yields only the fine dividing line; but it appears blurred. The space in which we should be gathering is still there, but is clearly not the spacious ‘third field’ in which I had walked. That, I am sure is how it is meant to be. The division of the Church into two parts, with the imbalances that history has incorporated into them, is how it is and how it long has been. But any actual division into three would probably be the beginning of the end; certainly it might be seen as such by many women in the Church, who would suspect its potential for being another false hope in their journey towards acknowledgement and full acceptance, genuine appreciation and equality: another manmade corral on their own journeys towards becoming the persons God wills them to be.

Deacon? (8) The Threshold (3)

The second definition of ‘Threshold’ was as follows:  –

‘Minimum or maximum value (established for an attribute, characteristic, or parameter) which serves as a benchmark for comparison or guidance and any breach of which may call for a complete review of the situation or the redesign of a system.’

If what has appeared to me to be a seemingly sudden change in the threshold, conveys to others any suggestion of truth or indication of a real situation, it is likely that its widening has not been a rapid and unplanned mutation, or merely, and more likely, a temporary but noteworthy shift in my imagination, but a more gradual, real and therefore significant form of evolution in response to prevailing conditions.

In becoming a region rather than merely a dividing line, it has itself taken on qualities of breadth and depth which could be said to equate to the ‘minimum or maximum value ... which serves as a benchmark’ – the minimum being at the point of departure from the laity’s sheepfold, and the maximum being at ordination. In the space between these two is a journey we are all called to make: a journey towards becoming the persons God wills us to be.

This definition continues: – ‘any breach may call for a complete review of the situation or the redesign of a system.’

Consciously stepping out from the fold at the initial stage of becoming a candidate for the diaconate corresponds to breaching the ‘minimum value’, and ordination can be taken as the corresponding breach of the ‘maximum value’.

In a sense, both of these breaches ‘call for a review of the situation’, but what makes the intervening territory so spacious is its need to accommodate, not only candidates for the diaconate and the priesthood, but as many lay men and women as can be brought to a recognition of their call to journey further into their faith, and as can be accompanied and supported by those already comfortable and confident in their position at some point ahead of them. The territory is thus populated from among the laity without individuals ever being seen to desert their previously occupied places among the pews and parishioners; and with priests and deacons being prepared to view the increasing potential of this central population as the fertile ground which it should be, and moving any predetermined boundaries back to incorporate advancing Church members into their regular field of view, they too become part of that same middle ground which is at one and the same time the fertile field, the personal desert, the start point and continuation of the individual’s journey toward a deeper relationship with God.

What had once been seen as nothing more than a line of separation can become a common ground on which fellowship, unity and ecumenism can flourish.

This is the ground on which ‘The New Evangelization’ can become a living reality in every parish, with priests, deacons and laity working together to discern and bring to fruition the various latent gifts within the community. It is here that the reality of Church can be rediscovered and, where necessary, redefined.

‘The redesign of a system’, if or when shown to be necessary, must wait for the discernment of others, though not without input from ourselves. The fruitful middle field where the Holy Spirit both creates the space for us to meet and merge once more in Christ’s name, and guides us into a new level of mutual reliance, love and respect, must be neither forgotten nor taken for granted; nor must it be dismissed as being of no consequence. Without it such gatherings as next October’s Synod in Rome will fail to realize their potential.

We are all ‘The Church’, and almost invisible behind the clearly proclaimed and plainly visible product of men having followed their vocations through to ordination, each one of us has some part to play in the on-going story and welfare of the whole. Christ’s all-inclusive and worldwide peace can develop and thrive throughout mankind only when all callings are discerned, accepted and acted upon within our own local communities.

Just as those who are truly called to be ordained must be ordained, so too those who are not must not. I believe there are many of us who are, paradoxically, being called not to be ordained: to remain very much anchored among the laity; not necessarily to function in the same way as deacons, though – other than as a minister of the altar – that will no doubt become the calling of some, but to play whatever part is theirs in building the faith of those around them.

Once  again I hear echoes of truth in Aristotle’s words:

'Where your talents and the needs of the world cross, there lies your vocation.'

Deacon? (7) The Threshold (2)

There were two welcomed definitions of the word ‘Threshold’.

The first: –  ‘Boundary beyond which a radically different state of affairs exists.’

This well defines the thin line as I had always seen it, and as I had still been seeing it when I began to read through documents and articles relevant to the permanent diaconate in preparation for my written response.

That retrospective usefulness, however, in no way becomes a reason for discarding it when viewing my altered landscape. There is still “a radically different state of affairs” awaiting a person who travels from the laity, across the whole broad expanse of the central field to take up residence as an ordained member of the Church’s hierarchy. There are ways in which that is how it should always be; it is, after all, a major decision, a major move and a major commitment; but with the essential proviso that the difference should not seem so great for the one who has made the journey.

The first uncertain steps should only be made in response to a belief (a similar but relevant and persistent “feeling” perhaps?) in the possibility that they are made in response to a calling, and the lengthy traverse of this potentially unnerving but divinely fruitful space can only be completed by those whose vocation is strengthened and confirmed with every step. For those who are not responding to a genuine vocation to the diaconate or the priesthood (and, rightly, whether or not they are is not discerned by the individual alone) the journey should never reach its completion, whereas for those truly called, partial emptiness (the receptacle for that which is sought but not yet attained) becomes fullness, internal growth becomes an external overflowing, hesitancy and doubt become certainty by the end of the journey. The radical difference is softened into the feel of a well-fitting cloak shouldered as a natural (and spiritual) consequence of following the right path.

It is among the majority of those who never approach the threshold that the ‘radically different state of affairs’ is seen to exist, either – as in past times – as some superior and holy state, or as an outdated and irrelevant anachronism to which they may themselves still cling while being unable to admit to having lost much of their own faith in it. Today, in the minds of many both within and outside the Church, the clergy is no longer seen as a group of people set apart in the way previously seen through the eyes and minds of their grandparents. They are now frequently seen as having been removed too far from the ordinary people and the world in which they live; this in the sense that they have left the common man too far behind in crossing the threshold into their own esoteric world.

It must, however, be accepted that much damage has also been done by the heightened awareness of clerical abuse resulting from the publicity of recent years. It is not the publicity itself which is the root cause, nor is it the investigations; it is correctly attributed to the fact that abusive and potentially abusive men have trained for and been accepted for ordination, and to the subsequent unjust and immoral failure of other ordained men in positions of influence and authority to deal adequately and rapidly with revealed facts and suspicions when they came to light. It is this last shameful reality which has done most harm to the image of the hierarchy, and, by instant automatic association, however unwarranted, to the image of its individual members and of the Church itself.

I believe the need to overcome the damage done to the Church by these atrocities is one of a series of reasons for the widening of the threshold between clergy and laity. Not, as would presently appear to be the result, to distance them from each other, but to make it possible for them to approach each other once again in ways more in keeping with Christ’s will for His Church, and in closer harmony with The Spirit’s ongoing leading and specific promptings.

The widening of the central plain is neither a drastic and permanent separation of two apparently divorced camps, nor the clearing and preparation of a future battlefield. I believe it is the creation of level ground onto which both clergy and laity must move and mingle in a joint effort to arrive at the fellowship on which the wounds of our diverging recent past and strained present can be healed. It is here that our collective future can regain a secure foothold on the bedrock that lies beneath the Church.

Without an ability to trust each other and work side by side toward the same ends, we have little hope of steadying the Ship in which we all sail, and no chance of discerning the only right course towards our intended future.

Deacon? (6) The Threshold (1)

I know what I mean when using the word “threshold”, and yet, in the present context at least, I find a distinct lack of satisfaction in the usual dictionary definitions of the word. Knowing what I mean is almost entirely an internal feeling with few, if any, substantial anchor points linking it with my own observable reality. As such I have to regard any reliance I am tempted to place in it as highly suspect.

But I did find precisely the definitions I sought by shifting the point from which I had been trying to view the threshold itself. Indeed, in conjunction with my frequently used means of finding out precisely what it is that I think and believe through untangling thoughts on paper, or keyboard and screen, it had been focussing on this threshold that clarified my reasons for “knowing” (that same inner feeling of knowing without any certainty of why) that I am not one who is being called to train for the diaconate.

The definitions were found on BusinessDictionary.com  – a name that turned my train of thought from matters previously kept too separate from the underlying values and driving forces of today’s material world, and forced the two sides to confront each other. The threshold between the two was transformed from being an almost imperceptibly thin line to an expanse broad enough to be seen as a territory in its own right.

Though the line had been so fine, it had always been distinct and recognized as an undeniable reality. It demonstrated the profound implications and importance of the one decision that could and would carry a person from the one side to the other: from laity to the ordained membership of a hierarchical structure claiming all authority, and expecting conformity and obedience as part of its control of the institution calling itself “The Church”.

The broader expanse did nothing to reduce the clarity or the relevance of the decision, but it did suggest that there was a great deal of room for further thought about the nature and the relevance of the threshold today; there was no longer a knife edge on which it was impossible to balance, and the crossing of which could be easily accomplished by making the necessary decision; where one was either on one side or the other.

Instead, the broadness invited lateral thinking: a reassessment reaching into whichever spheres of life might be necessary to find answers enough to fill the previously undiscovered space; but the required thoughts did not come simply because the need for them had been recognized. The only way I found myself able to profitably view the apparently altered landscape was to forget that the threshold was there at all: to regard the laity, the ordained hierarchy and this newfound expanse between the two as three equal, individually definable but inseparably interrelated fields: parts of one indivisible whole.

As soon as this picture formed it became clear that I should see the image as one of the Church as an expression of the Blessed Trinity – something I had not been able to see before.

What had been absorbed gradually throughout my life, becoming my instinctive, unquestioned, and undoubted way of seeing the Church: Christ’s Church, with the Spirit of God forever falling, drifting and blowing into and through every single corner of it, had given rise to the fine line separating the two parts, ordained and laity. Jesus and the Holy Spirit were both present throughout, with the threshold not only delineating the separation resulting from ordination, but also being the manifestation of a tension created by the underlying tug-of-war going on as a result of the Church having been split down the middle. The numerical minority, reserving all the authority and power on the one side; the majority – the sheep – who are clearly in need of someone to lead them, and who can be so easily and unquestioningly led along wrong paths, on the other.

This almost entirely automatic way of seeing the Church had been replaced by a different understanding based on the (once again) questionable reliability of “feelings”; an inner recognition of something which seemed to lack any clear supportive evidence.

Deacon? (5) Calling

Among the Diaconate related documents and pages read during these weeks, are further sentences clearly stating that much of what is necessary in a person suitable for training as a deacon is in fact required of every mature Christian.

- ‘Through baptism each one is united with Christ and so shares in the mission given to Christ by the   

   Father, the mission of proclamation, prayer and charity.’

- ‘The work of prayer, witness and service is properly that of every baptised person.’

- ‘The exercise of these responsibilities is the key characteristic of the Christian way of life: letting the 

   Gospel be known by what is said and done; praising God in prayer and liturgy; serving those in 

   need (diakonia).’

- ‘These activities are proper to every baptised person.’

- ‘The functions assigned to the deacon can in no way diminish the role of lay people called and

   willing to co-operate in the apostolate with the hierarchy.’

This last leads us straight into the reminder that it is the Spirit who calls, not the priest, the bishop or the wider Church.

- ‘In the Church's care for her children, the first figure is the Spirit of Christ. It is He who calls them, 

   accompanies them and moulds their hearts so that they can recognise his grace and respond

   generously to it.’

- ‘A natural inclination for service should not be understood “in the sense of a simple spontaneity of

   natural disposition ... it is rather an inclination of nature inspired by grace, with a spirit of service 

   that conforms human behaviour to Christ's. The sacrament of the diaconate develops this 

   inclination: it makes the subject to share more closely in Christ's spirit of service and imbues the

   will with a special grace so that in all his actions he will be motivated by a new inclination to serve

   his brothers and sisters”.

Can ordination, with its essential entry into the confines and restrictions of the church’s hierarchy, really be the only way God intends men to receive the grace that will bring an intensification of such an inclination? And, what exactly are we to understand from this where women who have an ‘inclination for service’ are concerned? That it is not possible for their ‘natural inclination’ to have been ‘inspired by grace’? That grace is available to men and directed to men alone, and that women are forever beyond its reach?

Dear Lord, let there be not a single person in your Church today who even half believes in such an impossibility.

- ‘The bishop alone imposes hands on the candidate and invokes the outpouring of the Holy Spirit on

   him.’

Yet each of us is gifted in some way. Why is it that the bishop does not lay hands on committed members of the laity, men and women, invoking the Holy Spirit’s outpouring on them before searching among them for potential deacons? – for the ones upon whom he will again lay hands at their ordination?

- ‘It is a particular task of the spiritual director to assist the candidate to place himself in an attitude

   of ongoing conversion’

- ‘The deacon, mindful that the diaconia of Christ surpasses all natural capacities, should

   continually commit himself in conscience and in freedom to His invitation: “Remain in me and I in

   you. As the branch cannot bear fruit unless it remain in the vine, so also with you unless you

   remain in me”

John’s recorded words of Jesus (15:4) apply not only to deacons but to everyone, ordained or not.

-  All priests and deacons ‘should be mindful that the lay members of the faithful, in virtue of their

   own specific mission, are “particularly called to make the Church present and fruitful in those 

   places and circumstances where it is only through them that she can become the salt of the earth”

This is true enough, but the restrictions lodged in such a focus can become a hindrance through allowing and accepting a reduced access and availability of both ordained ministers and eager members of the laity in what I think of as the ‘narthex’ areas of the Church: the areas between the place of focus, of prayer and of liturgy, and the scramble of the outside world. It is the place which represents the line between laity and ordained but at the same time hints at something more. It lies between, and acts as a threshold when moving through it in either direction: going in or going out; ordained or not; regular visitor or stranger; rich or poor; at peace or distressed; in sickness or in health. It is where I have often metaphorically turned my head in search of the source of something that, just for a moment, I had thought I heard ... and it gives rise to the question: -  Are there, in fact, any places and circumstances from which the laity are excluded in their ability to respond to their call? – other than those from which they are separated by declared requirements for obedience to rules made by other men?

It would be a mistake to think of these narthex areas as being only the spaces that first come to mind: those through which we may pass on our way into and out of the church building we often think of as ‘the Church’. When attending any church service we pass through not only the physical space but the transitional spaces within our own hearts and minds, just as we do in our meeting and leaving of spiritual friends, in our beginning and ending of private prayer, of reading scripture, of becoming engrossed or enthralled when finding God’s presence in the world around us, whether in the harmony of nature’s kaleidoscope, in the phenomenal wonders of the sciences, or in the profound beauties of the arts.

Those inner recesses are places in which to rest; to be still and know that He is God. We should linger there whenever possible, rather than hurrying away to get on with our “real” lives.

This is where we should meet Him, and each other, far more than we do. How do we take our knowledge of Him out into the world if we have found no way to hold onto His presence as we make our way back into it?

- ‘The scope of human formation is that of moulding the personality of the sacred ministers in such a

   way that they become “a bridge and not an obstacle for others in their meeting with Jesus Christ

   the Redeemer of man”.

Here again, every one of us should be hoping to become “a bridge and not an obstacle for others.”

- ‘Contemporary society requires a new evangelization which demands a greater and more

   generous effort on the part of ordained ministers.’

Of at least equal importance, is the need for “a greater and more generous effort on the part of” members of the lay faithful. Deacons, priests and bishops need such men and women if their own efforts are to bear real fruit in today’s culture. They are already too far distanced from most ordinary men and women of both the Church and the wider world; not through what they profess to believe nor through the commitment of their lives to an expression of their faith, but through having crossed the seamless threshold that runs between members of the Church hierarchy and all other members of Christ’s Church. The line that runs through the narthex seems almost non-existent when that is where we are standing, but when right inside the Church one can feel aspects of the separation: it is what we have entered it for, whether as a passing parishioner calling in briefly for prayer or simply for a few moments of quiet; as a potential ordination candidate following and trying to fully grasp his calling; or as an ordained deacon or priest seeking an ongoing confirmation of his vocation and necessarily longer periods of quiet and peace.

However unnoticed when passing through, and however blurred when focussed upon, that defining line is there. It is nothing new, of course, but the way it is perceived and felt may benefit from a change.