For whom the bell trolls

An ill wind blew on Laetare Sunday!  Our little town was struck by severe storms that caused some damage to our parish rectory and grounds.  A section of shingles took flight along with some siding from one of the dormers.  A large spruce tree in the parking lot was uprooted.  The church itself sustained no damage other than a gutter downspout that was blown off.  Power was knocked out but that caused no harm at the time because all Sunday Masses were over by then.  The big problem occurred some nine hours later when the power came back on!

It was nearly midnight when electricity was restored to part of the town where the church is located.  For some strange reason that only God can explain, the church bell started to ring.  A power surge?  Lightning?  Who knows?  All we know is that the bell rang, and rang, and rang.  Normally a problem like this would be easily remedied.  Our pastor would hear the bell ringing just a short distance from his rectory bedroom window.  But he does not stay in the rectory on Sunday nights.  Monday is his “day off” and he spends Sunday nights at a house he owns about thirty minutes away.  

The only people close enough to hear the bell ringing were some very angry neighbors who were trying to sleep.  Some of them called the police.  Our little town had one police officer on duty that night.  He attempted to rouse someone at the church, but there was no one there.  He actually gained access to the church by pulling on the front door which someone had failed to lock properly.  Wandering into the basement, he found a breaker panel, but none of them powered the bell.  He started to climb the bell tower but decided that was above his pay grade.  In the meantime, the bell continued to peal.  

In desperation, he awakened the owner of the mortuary that was located behind the church to see whether he knew who to contact.  He gave him my phone number.  Normally, I would be the person to handle any problem with the bell at the church as I am probably most familiar with its inner workings.  But, I managed to sleep through three phone calls.  We still had no power at our house and my phone had not been charging as it normally would overnight.  I later learned that I also slept through the police officer banging on our front door.   

Eventually, the police officer along with the mortician went to the home of another parishioner and were able to wake her and her husband.  Imagine being awakened at three o’clock in the morning to find a police officer and mortician at your front door.  This would put a scare into any normal human being.  In this particular case, the woman had a similar experience years ago when her youngest son was killed in a car accident.  I can only imagine what went through her mind.  She did get them into the church where the breaker panel for the bell was located and they were able to silence the bell.

I still do not know how exactly long the bell rang during the night.  Estimates range from three to seven hours depending on which nasty Facebook comment one reads.  I woke up about 5 AM to find the missed calls and voice messages on my phone.  I immediately got up and went to the church, but the bell had stopped by then, so I would suppose it rang for some three or four hours.  In a later conversation with the poor police officer, he said the county dispatcher received fifteen calls, including three complaints to 911.  

The police have requested that we supply them with a list of keyholders in the unlikely case this ever happens again.  This may be the only time the bell has gone rogue during the night in its 115 year history.  Nevertheless, we have given a list of phone numbers to the sheriff’s office, something we probably should have done years ago.  There could be other emergencies at the church where access was needed. 

We believe that God can bring good from even the worst circumstances.  On this particular Lenten night, some people laid awake thinking about the Catholic Church who otherwise might have just fallen asleep.  Perhaps their thoughts were not the kind that typically inspire converts, but sometimes the Holy Spirit works in mysterious ways. 

Parish, the thought

Our Bishop has ordered all pastors in the diocese to select three “key leaders” from each parish who, along with the pastor, will meet to discuss the current ministerial landscape and explore future strategies for an effective Catholic presence in the area.  This effort is prompted by the challenge we are facing to maintain and staff parishes in our diocese.  As the Bishop points out, numerous priests are going to be retiring in the next few years with a shortage of seminarians to take their place.  Many churches are old and difficult to maintain with reduced revenues and increasing costs.  

He recognizes the need to be proactive and develop a plan to meet these challenges.  Furthermore, I think he wants to get the parishioners involved in making recommendations because many parishes are going to be faced with difficult decisions, reduction in staffing and possible closings. It’s a reality we are facing.  Having parishioners involved in the process helps them accept tough outcomes rather than feeling like they were blindsided.

According to our pastor, prior bishops in our diocese kept parishes open as long as they were financially viable, but this may no longer be an option.  Many pastors now serve more than one parish.  At some point, priests may become so sparse that Sunday Mass might not be available in some churches.  Even financially stable parishes may find themselves facing closure. 

I counted sixty-three Catholic Churches in our diocese spread over four counties.  Our county is the smallest of the four with only four churches and one mission.  Presently, there are three priests serving in the county.  Two of them are beyond retirement age.  I would hope we could support at least two priests in the county for the foreseeable future.  That would still present a challenge in keeping all five sites afloat.  The mission is near the county line and could possibly be staffed part time from the adjacent county.  One parish already shares a pastor with our parish.  One of the other parishes is small and would need to share a pastor if it stays open.  All of this is conjecture at this point.  

The diocese ordained two priests last year and has two more who will be ordained this year.  They are far outnumbered by the priests who will be retiring soon.  The last priest to come from our parish is long retired.  Our sister parish has one young man in the seminary now.  He will be ordained in about three years.  I completely understand why our Bishop is preparing us for some painful decisions coming in the not too distant future.   Please keep praying for vocations.

Precept 5

The fifth precept (“You shall help to provide for the needs of the Church”) means that the faithful are obliged to assist with the material needs of the Church, each according to his own ability. (CCC 2042-2043)

At the beginning of each new year, our parishioners are given boxes of printed envelopes to use for their weekly offerings.  I assume most parishes do this.  Ours have our names printed on each envelope with the date of the Sunday or Holy Day of Obligation.  It seems a good way to remind everyone to contribute each week. 

When I was a youngster in Catholic grade school, we children also got envelopes.  Sadly, we don’t do this anymore.  What better way to teach them responsibility than to require a small part of their allowance to go to God each week?  At the end of the year, the church would publish the names of all parishioners, including the children, and list each one’s total contribution.  We don’t do that anymore either!  I guess it was a good way to shame people into giving more generously!

Being involved in OCIA, I always look to see whether those we brought into the Church last Easter were given envelopes this year.  I make sure they get registered as new parishioners and I want them to feel like they are an integral part of the parish.  For whatever reason, none of them received a box of envelopes this year.  I blame the secretary for that oversight.  At least, they won’t get the idea we just want their money!

Keeping a parish afloat is expensive, especially small parishes like ours.  Utilities alone take a huge chunk of the budget.  Century-old buildings with high ceilings and virtually no insulation are difficult to heat and cool.  Staffing, maintenance, repairs and insurance costs add up quickly.  

The church bell stopped working a week ago.  Having worked on the bell myself in the past, our pastor asked me to call the bell company to see whether our maintenance contract was still current.  Unfortunately, it was not.  To have them come out would cost $655 plus $150/hour labor.  I had a pretty good idea what was wrong.  A motor control relay fails every few years.  I changed it once before, but I do not like to climb the tower anymore at my age.  Nevertheless, I ordered the part, recruited a helper and made the repair.  Probably saved the parish about a thousand dollars.  

In small parishes like ours, people often come forward to help when needed, whether it be financially or in-kind services.  Our parish priest rarely if ever talks about money from the pulpit.  That is a good thing really.  The Holy Spirit seems to take care of us as the need arises.  As far as I know, we are doing okay.  We live within our means.  If it is unaffordable, we just do without.  It is one way we learn to sacrifice.

 

Oh Fudge!

Every Christmas my wife makes fudge to give away to friends and family.  Fudge is her specialty.  She has perfected a recipe that I got at my workplace some forty years ago.  For the uninitiated, the Fannie May Candy Company dates back to 1920 in Chicago.  In the 60’s and 70’s, their Buttercreams, Mint Meltaways, and Pixies were among the most popular confections available.  One of my co-workers claimed to have the recipe for Fannie May Fudge.  During a break in a class one day, he wrote out the recipe on a piece of notebook paper and made copies for anyone who wanted it.  

My wife still has that same copy in her recipe file.  Over the years, she has perfected the process.  The ingredients remain the same, but her technique has developed to insure the creaminess and appearance.  Some folks have their Christmas time specialties.  For my late mother-in-law, it was fruitcake.  My sister makes crockpot candy.  For my wife, it is fudge.  

The secret is in her preparation.  She has a routine that she follows to precision.  The mixture of different chocolates and other ingredients has to be heated to a certain temperature and stirred sufficiently to keep the fudge from becoming grainy.  She stirs and stirs and stirs some more.  When the time is right, she pours it into two pans and places it in our oven to cool.  The reason she puts it in the oven to cool is so the cat can’t get into it.  Now mind you, we haven’t had a cat for about fifteen years, but the fudge still solidifies in the safety of the oven to this day.

A recent hip-replacement surgery slowed her down a little this year.  While some previous years had her making some forty to fifty pounds, this Christmas she limited production to a few batches.  When beginning her first batch during Advent, she realized she didn’t have the oleo margarine she normally uses, so she substituted real butter.  The fudge turned out fine.  It was creamy, tasted great, but she was not happy with it.  The fudge had a dull appearance, not shiny the way she likes it to be.  I could not tell the difference.  It seemed fine to me, but it did not meet her standards.  

One might think using butter in a fudge recipe would be better than using margarine, but my wife claims that fudge made with the cheapest oleo is far superior than fudge made with real butter.  This superiority apparently exists in the appearance rather than the flavor, but as Pope Francis might say, who am I to judge.  In any case, it was off to the grocery store to get more chocolate and some Blue Bonnet margarine.  The Friday before Christmas, she was back in the kitchen to make a proper batch of Fannie May fudge.  

This time the fudge turned out perfectly so I am told.  It was cooling in the oven so I didn’t see it, but my wife was gloating all afternoon about its glossy appearance and perfect creaminess.  This batch would be divided, placed in small tins and given out as Christmas gifts to anyone who stopped by.  The rest we will take to my sister’s house on Christmas Eve.

By Friday evening I was hungry.  As old traditional Catholics, we do not eat meat on Friday, so our go-to Friday supper is frozen cheese pizza.  Our go-to brand of late has been Digiorno’s Rising Crust Four Cheese variety.  For whatever reason, our local grocery has been out of it for several weeks, so we are trying a few other brands.   On this particular day, I preheated the oven to 400 degrees per the instructions.  When it was time to put the pizza in, I opened the oven door to find my wife’s fudge bubbling like some kind of volcanic tar pit.  Neither of us had remembered the fudge was still in the oven.  I immediately thought of what Ralphie said in the Christmas Story movie when he accidentally scattered the lug nuts while helping the old man change the flat tire.  

My wife was ready to send the entire batch down the garbage disposal.  I told her to let it cool and maybe it would be alright.  We waited a couple of hours and I tried a piece.  It had crunchy gobs of burnt sugar that tasted like chocolate gravel.  We sent it down the garbage disposal.  

When we reach our mid-seventies, we can be forgetful.  Stuff happens and we just have to shake our heads and move on.  We made another unscheduled trip to the store, picked up more fudge ingredients and she made another batch.  It turned out fine.  Yes, she let it cool in the oven so our non-existent cat wouldn’t get it, and it made for a good story to tell our family on Christmas Eve. 

Bias time again

We were eating lunch one day with my son and his family when the conversation turned to plans for Thanksgiving.  My fifth-grade grandson remarked that Thanksgiving was a made-up holiday.  Is that what they teach you in school, I asked.  He said yes.  My wife, who happens to be on the school board said, “Did your teacher say that?”  My grandson replied in the affirmative.  He appeared to be learning a negative view of the colonization of America. 

A week or so later, my grandson was doing his Social Studies homework at our house.  When he was finished, I asked to look at the textbooks titled Indiana Social Studies, The United States: Making a New Nation. (Harcourt School Publishers).  I went to the index and looked for Catholic Church.  On page 133, I found a section on Missionaries to America.  Below is a transcript of five paragraphs from the textbook with my thoughts inserted in brackets and a few links added for contrasting viewpoints:

    “While the conquistadors were exploring the Americas, many changes were taking place in Europe.  Some people began to question the power [authority?] of the Catholic Church.  At the time, the Church forced [?] people [Catholics] to follow its rules [not teach heresy] and to pay taxes [?].  It even had its own courts [still do]. The courts could punish [admonish] people [Catholics] for disagreeing [teaching heresy] with Church laws [dogma].”

    “In 1517, A German priest named Martin Luther began to call openly for reforms, or changes, in the Catholic Church.  This period of reforms is called the Reformation.  Luther was forced out [excommunicated] of the Church, but he gained many supporters.  Those who protested the actions of Catholic leaders [magisterial authority] became known at Protestants.  They began new churches, including the Lutheran Church [and eventually many others].”

    “As a result, the Catholic Church made some changes.  It also tried to keep its power [maintain unity] through efforts now called the Counter-Reformation.  The Church banned books that went [promoted heresy] against its teachings.  People [Heretics] who protested Catholic laws were punished [admonished] in Church courts [or Councils].”

    “During the Counter-Reformation, the Catholic Church worked on spreading its power [Christianity] to the Americas.  Church leaders wanted to gain new followers [converts].  They also wanted to share in the wealth [prosperity?] of the lands claimed by European countries.  To do this, the Church sent religious teachers, or missionaries, to convert Native Americans to the Catholic Church.  Soon after coming to the Americas, missionaries held ceremonies [Baptisms?] to make [share the gospel with] Native Americans they met Catholic.”

    “It was not until later [?] that the missionaries actually started [continued] teaching them about Catholic beliefs.  Some missionaries forced [?] Native Americans to become Catholic and also enslaved them [No. See articles linked below].  Many Native Americans fought to hold on to their beliefs, but others were forced [chose] to change how they lived and worshipped.”

I’m no historian, but I know Protestant bias when I see it.  The textbook author paints the Church in a negative light whether intentional or not.  When human beings are involved, abuses are bound to take place, but this was not by decree of the Church.  The Spanish conquistadors encountered Aztec ritual human sacrifices and fought to stop the practice.  As I write this today on December 12, we celebrate the Solemnity of Our Lady of Guadalupe who by her miraculous appearance in Mexico brought about the conversion of some nine million Aztecs to the Catholic faith.  Of course, you will not learn this in a secular history textbook.  

Finally!

Thank God the election is over.  The barrage of annoying political ads have finally ceased, at least for a while.  I often wonder how stupid the candidates must think we are.  Unfortunately, they may be right.  People make bad choices every day.  Those same people help choose our leaders.    

I must say I was surprised by the result of the presidential election.  As I have stated before, the abortion stance is a litmus test for me.  While it may seem inconsequential for determining a candidate’s qualifications to develop foreign and domestic policies, I believe it is a strong indicator of one’s moral compass.  While I saw many more Trump signs in our conservative Indiana, I was also very aware of a strong dislike for him personally.  Several women I know view him only as a sexual predator and convicted felon.  I viewed the election as a choice between two platforms and how they aligned with my own ideals.  The candidate’s character, though important, was less important.

As a Catholic, I could not vote for someone who refused to place any limits on abortion.  In fact, I fail to see how any practicing Catholic could still consider themselves a Democrat these days.  Nonetheless, I know Catholics in my own family who voted Democratic.  They have their reasons.  I just disagree.  

The day after the election, my wife and I had lunch at a local café.  An elderly woman who works there part time was lamenting the fact that Trump won.  She brought up all the pro-choice talking points, rape, incest, and all the women who are going to die because they can’t get an abortion.  Another Mexican friend who has been an American citizen for many decades supposed that he would be deported.  So sad that so many people latch onto the incessant fearmongering. 

My wife was moved by the story of the Texas woman who died when doctors said they could not intervene in her miscarriage due to strict anti-abortion laws in the state.  She says she is against abortion but believes these decisions should be left to the woman and her doctors.  I might agree in the rare situations where the death of the woman or her child is imminent.  The problem, aside from the fact that the baby has no say in this decision, is doctors will protect their own interests.  They want to make sure the patient is aware of every possible bad outcome in a higher risk pregnancy even when those chances are minimal.  They are less likely to face a wrongful death lawsuit from the unborn baby than from the mother. Even in relatively routine minor surgeries, someone on the medical team will often make the patient aware of rare unintended consequences.  

My wife said she was disappointed in our citizens who would elect a convicted felon to the presidency.  Personally, I believe his conviction was politically motivated.  Maybe Trump inflated his property values to obtain loans, but his lenders are no fools.  They knew with whom they were dealing and were undoubtedly comfortable doing so.  His wealth and demeanor make him disliked by many, but it is hard to argue with his success as a businessman.

As a pro-life Catholic, I am encouraged by the conservative outcome on election day.  Yes, I wish the executive branch was manned by someone a little less egocentric, but no candidate is perfect.  Should vacancies appear on the Supreme Court, I am confident the Republicans will nominate justices who support the constitution rather than an ideology.  The next four years will be interesting.  I remain optimistic.