The Gospel and animals

So I was walking down the street today (June 27) to get to a lunch appointment when a guy came up to me while I was waiting at a red light. He handed me the above two cards, and then began to berate the Catholic Church for (in his view) not doing enough to protect the animals, despite Jesus having eliminated animal sacrifice.

Such is life when you walk around downtown Montreal in a Roman collar -- similar to a box of chocolates, you just never know what you're gonna get.

Coming back to my mystery interlocutor, after offering me his cards (as well as a piece of his mind) he took off in another direction. The whole exchange was less than 10 seconds, and as the light changed green I thought to myself, "Now I know what to blog about for today!"

So for what its worth, here is a brief summary of what the Catholic Church teaches about animals, vegan diets, etc.:

The message on the cards includes an exhortation to love animals, because (as the card says) God does. I have no problem agreeing with the general thrust of this message, and in fact it is part of official Catholic teaching. However, it must be lived in a balanced way. The Catechism of the Catholic Church, which acts as a summary of Catholic doctrine, has this to say on the subject:

2416 Animals are God's creatures. He surrounds them with his providential care. By their mere existence they bless him and give him glory. Thus men owe them kindness. We should recall the gentleness with which saints like St. Francis of Assisi or St. Philip Neri treated animals.

2417 God entrusted animals to the stewardship of those whom he created in his own image. Hence it is legitimate to use animals for food and clothing. They may be domesticated to help man in his work and leisure. Medical and scientific experimentation on animals is a morally acceptable practice if it remains within reasonable limits and contributes to caring for or saving human lives.

2418 It is contrary to human dignity to cause animals to suffer or die needlessly. It is likewise unworthy to spend money on them that should as a priority go to the relief of human misery. One can love animals; one should not direct to them the affection due only to persons.

I recognize that there are some who will object to some of these points because they affirm a special place for human beings within the animal kingdom (and indeed, within creation). However, that special status within the overall ecology of our world is definitely part of the Biblical perspective too (a subject for another blog post sometime).

Within the religious practice of the Catholic Church, there is nothing that mandates harm to animals. For example, as the guy who handed me those cards pointed out, the tradition of animal sacrifices found throughout Hebrew history was not carried over to Christianity. On the flip side, our official book of blessings does have prayers for the blessing of animals. I even got asked to bless a dog in a veterinary hospital once (a neat story for another day).

With regards to special diets, we know that many religions require their followers to follow such diets: kosher for Jews, halal for Muslims, various diets within Hinduism, etc. But for Catholics, there is no moral imperative in natural or divine law to eat certain foods or to avoid certain foods. The Torah does state that certain foods should not be eaten as they are ritually unclean, but the common Christian tradition says that Jesus declared all foods clean (Mark 7:19). The vision of Saint Peter as described in Acts 10:15-16 uses the fact of all foods being clean as analogy to enourage the inclusion of new peoples and cultures in the Church.

While there is no moral imperative in natural or divine law to follow a specific diet, the Church does teach certain diets as part of the spiritual practice of penance. We are asked to avoid eating meat on certain days (Ash Wednesday and the Friday's of Lent, in particular), and to avoid eating more than one full meal on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday. Of course, this is just a minimum -- we can choose a more restricted diet if we wish. For the last couple of years, for example, I've followed a vegan diet during Lent, and I've gotten a lot out of the practice (a story for another time).

On the flip side, the Bible warns us that the following of a certain diet can also lead to a kind of pridefulness. The film Scott Pilgrim vs. the World has a hilarious take on the subject (sorry for the mild swear at the beginning as the title character defends the honour of Toronto):

I must confess, I did not get any vegan powers myself when I followed that diet during Lent, but that's probably because I took Sundays off :-) And before I hear protests, no that was not cheating. To avoid falling into the pridefulness a religious diet can encourage, the Church actually suggests certain days where we are called to feast, not fast! We even call them "feast days", as opposed to the aforementioned "fast days", and Sunday is the essential feast day, even during Lent.

Coming back to the fellow who printed these cards, he is correct that the original plan of God described in the story of creation in the book of Genesis was, in fact, vegan. More than that, it was fruitarian, an even more strict form of veganism. However, we must remember that the story is highly symbolic in nature, and cannot be taken to be a simple outline of a plan of daily living. After all, Adam and Eve walked around naked too, and yet I don't think God is asking all of us to practice continuous nudism as a form of discipleship -- apart from the purely moral and aesthetic arguments against such a practice, it could get a bit chilly during a Canadian winter! Brrr!

That's enough for now. I've already got enough material for three more blog posts on these and related subjects -- so stay tuned!

Visit to Val Notre-Dame monastery

One of the biggest takeaways for me from the ad limina visit to Rome was a challenge Pope Francis put out to all of us bishops: "How many hours a day do you spend praying?" I didn't exactly start doing a count, but I have to admit, the "hours" reference got me thinking!

One disciple I've been trying to adopt since it being more intentional in making church and chapel visits. Usually its a fairly easy process -- I do live at a church after all -- but as today I had a meeting in Joliette I decided to take the opportunity to visit Val Notre-Dame Trappist monastery. These are the monks who once liked in Oka, and who moved a few years ago to Saint-Jean-de-Matha in the Joliette diocese.

I have a soft spot in my heart for this particular monastic community. I used to visit them in Oka when I was a seminarian and a young priest. I once did a two week silent retreat there, and it was one of the most profound and intense spiritual experiences I ever had (complete with what I can only describe as a vision from God towards the end). I stayed with them for about 10 days a few years ago after they had moved, and again it was a powerful experience that helped me get through some tough stuff I was dealing with and needed to face. There is something about the gentle rhythm of their prayer, and the kindliness of their welcome, that has been a real balm to my soul. It was a delight to spend just a few minutes there.

Link to their website: Abbaye Val Notre-Dame

Connecting with a university buddy

Yesterday, my high school reunion...

Today, a meeting with Andy, a friend from university days!

I attended Concordia University's budiness school from 1989 to 1992. I was super involved in student life, and my final year I was President of the Commerce and Administration Students Association (aka CASA). It was definitely one of the best (and most important) years in my life, and Andy was part of it through his involvement in student life as well.

We reconnected recently at a gala fundraiser event for a local school. I must admit, it had been so long I didn't recognize Andy at first, but thankfully his memory is better than mine. We promised to reconnect, and although it took a while I messaged him when my schedule had an opening. What a great lunch we had! Part "good old days", part "what have you been up to", and part dreaming up new projects to change the world for the better.

Thank you Andy. Looking forward to reconnecting!

30th high school reunion

Yes, it's true: it has been 30 years since I graduated high school. I can hardly believe it!

Our last reunion was 10 years ago (20th anniversary), so we were due for another. It was great seeing people I had not seen in so long, even if I couldn't stay long. And even if I went in my collar, it was nice to just be "Tom" for a little bit.

My first three years of high school were somewhat meh, but my final two years were among the best of my life, especially the last year. Because we were all getting ready for college (called CEGEP here in Quebec) getting good grades (or heck, just graduating) meant that the academic pressure was on. Because my grades were pretty good I tutored lots of classmates my final year. I got a lot of personal benefits from that experience: I discovered a passion for explaining things, I made lots of friends, and in some cases I even earned a few dollars. But I also got a lot of satisfaction from seeing others succeed, and some of those stories came back to me. Who knows, maybe that was part of the genesis of my vocation to the priesthood -- seeing others flourish!

Connecting with family at Aunt Louise's funeral

I was in Ottawa today (June 23) for the funeral of my aunt Louise (celebrated this morning). While a sad occasion it was good to connect with family. My cousins Paul and Patrick were there, as well as their extended family, such as little Ava, a most recent addition (she is my first cousin twice removed).

My mother, brother and sister were also there, along with my brother's oldest daughter Chloe, and my sister's three kids (including Brigid and Paxton, below).

Paxton was especially adorable. I don't get to see him as much as I would like, so sometimes he plays strange with me, but not today. I sat down and he came over and plunked himself down right next to me. No special reason, he just wanted to be close. Again, adorable.

Learning about conscience, part 1: Saint Thomas More

I was a kid in a time before video on demand services like Netflix. Heck, it was before PVRs and even VCRs. We had one TV in the house, and if you wanted to know what was going on you consulted the newspaper or a print publication like TV Guide. Or, sometimes you'd be channel surfing and if you came across something you wanted to watch, you either just watched it or you let it go.

I don't remember exactly how old I was when A Man for All Seasons came on TV. It was probably between the ages of 7 and 10. It was an afternoon, and I'm pretty sure it was a Saturday. In those days, Saturday morning was a time for kids to watch cartoons, but at a certain point the kids shows stopped and the "grown up" shows took over. My recollection is that I had finished watching "my" shows, and my dad had come downstairs to watch "his show". But as I was getting up to go, my dad invited me to stay and watch the movie with him. I wasn't too sure -- I generally found "grown up" shows boring. But my dad said, "This movie is about someone you are named after." Really? Wow! So I couldn't refuse.

For those who do not know A Man for All Seasons, it is the story of Sir Thomas More (later known as Saint Thomas More). He was the good friend of King Henry VIII, and at one point was Chancellor of England. This was in the 16th century, when the Protestant Reformation was in full swing on the Continent. At one point Henry had himself declared the head of the Church in England, and communion disintegrated between himself and the Pope. Sir Thomas More could not accept to go down that path, and he eventually lost everything, including his life.

At my age, I did not understand all that was going on in the story. It was set in another century, the dialogue was a fairly advanced form of English, and I knew very little about the Protestant Reformation except that some kids in our neighbourhood were "protestants" which meant they went to a different church than us. But my dad explained things as needed, and my focus anyway was mainly on the main character who had the same name as me.

The story of Saint Thomas More left a deep impression on me, leaving me perplexed and even disturbed. My father asked me what I thought about the story, and I remember asking him the same question.

"I've always admired Thomas More," my father explained. "For me, he is a model of what it means to follow your conscience."

"Conscience? What's that?" I asked.

My dad did not answer the question directly. Instead of saying what it was, he said what it meant. "To live by your conscience means to always act according to the truth. That's what Thomas More did."

I changed the focus of my questioning. "But why did Sir Thomas go all the way to being killed?"

"He didn't want to die," my father explained. "If you noticed, Thomas was trying to avoid falling into the danger set before him. He didn't go looking for trouble, in fact he did his best to get out of it, but when in the end they backed him into a corner and said he had to deny his commitment or else, he refused to do so."

"That's what conscience means," he continued. "To live by your conscience means you have to have courage. Anybody can find excuses to avoid challenges and suffering, but sometimes there are things we have to be willing to sacrifice for. For example, if someone ever made me have to choose between my life and yours, or my life and the life of your mother, or brother, or sister, I'd choose to die rather than let you die. At least I hope I would, I hope I'd have the courage to do that."

Now that got my attention. My dad didn't know it, but he was teaching me about the difference between courage and daring. People will sometimes do something dangerous on a dare, but real courage is not just about daring. It is about daring to do the right thing, even if it costs you.

This, of course, raised other questions in my mind. After all, if following your conscience could have such high stakes, you had better be pretty sure of what the right thing is. After all, there is no point suffering for the wrong thing!

My father confirmed as much. "To follow your conscience takes courage, but you also have to use your brain," he said. "You have to always be willing to seek the truth and stick with it. But it also takes humility, because no one can ever know the whole truth all at once. You have to be willing to admit you don't know everything, and to be willing to ask questions. It helps to be part of a community that is committed to finding the truth and living it. That's what the Church is for."

Getting back to my story, I remember asking my dad if all this conscience stuff was really worth it. Remember, I was a kid and peer pressure was a fact of life. If joining with my friends was the path of least resistance, why not just do that, at least in the normal course of life? My father reminded me that, in the film, Sir Thomas had a conversation with his good friend the Duke of Norfolk, who had tried to persuade Thomas to take a false oath "for fellowship". Thomas replied, "And when we die, and you are sent to heaven for doing your conscience, and I am sent to hell for not doing mine, will you come with me, for fellowship?"

I looked at my father and said that this argument did not sound fair. God was going to punish us for not following our conscience? Is that the ultimate reason why we should seek the truth and be willing to suffer for it -- because we are afraid of God?

With great patience, and with (I believe) some delight in the fact that I was pushing the issue so far, he replied that, in fact, having a strong conscience, one that was anchored in truth and had the courage to live it, was actually the source of one of the greatest assets a personality can have: inner freedom. Saint Thomas, in his struggle, showed himself to be more free than the King himself, even when he was locked up in the Tower of London.

We need that inner freedom, my father explained, to be able to live according to the ultimate law: the law of love. I had heard of this law before, during the Bible readings and sermons and church, such as in the expression "love your neighbour". That law doesn't say we have to like our neighbour, but that we do have to love him. We have to even love our enemies. But, as my father explained, how can we do that unless we have the inner freedom to do so? Real love cannot be forced, it must be free. Having a strong conscience makes us free inside, the kind of freedom that Saint Thomas had to declare that he was "the King's faithful servant, but God's first".

"That's why we wind up in Hell if we disobey our conscience," my father explained. "We can't live real love with out. And God is love, Heaven is love. It's not that God will punish us if we don't follow our conscience, it's that conscience is our guide to Heaven, to being with God. And while God sometimes grants people visions or speaks words to them, it's in our conscience that God ordinarily impresses himself up on. If our conscience isn't clear, we can't have a real relationship with Him."

This conversation had a lasting effect upon me, even until today. For example, as I've gotten older I've come to realise this conversation was the start of my passion for ecumenical and inter-faith dialogue (heck, even dialogue with sincere atheists). I like speaking with people who have convictions and try and live by them. Our convictions may differ, but if those convictions are sincere it means the other person is willing to have them tested in the name of a higher principle, i.e. the principle that The Truth is more important than "this or that" truth. As I would learn later, this perspective would eventually come in handy when I started to have my own "crisis of faith" -- that that is a story for another time.

News articles on diocesan policy on prevention of abuse

The Journal de Montreal had an article series today on our diocesan policy for the prevention of abuse. They were doing a follow up from an article that came out around this time last year. I'm glad this got front page treatment, as I feel it is important that we emphasize the importance of this issue for our diocesan church. (I'm not a big fan of the headline, as it places far too much emphasis on one element of prevention, but the articles themselves are pretty good.)

• Article: Prise d’empreintes digitales obligatoire pour tous les prêtres

Other articles quickly followed. I was interviewed by the CBC for one of them, and while the headline had the same emphasis, I found the article to be fair.

• Article: Montreal Catholic Church will fingerprint all priests working with children

A further Google search will reveal even more articles. I have not had a chance to read them all, but I've been pleased so far. This issue is too important, and I'm hoping these articles will help us not only advance our pilot project further, but help all community groups, Catholic or not, do what's right.

Another step in the journey to Christian unity

I had an awesome meeting today with Glenn Smith of Christian Direction (far right) and Mac Pier (middle) of the New York City Leadership Center. I got to know Mac particularly when I spoke at the Movement Day conference last October (see this past blog post on the subject). Mac flew in from New York and we spent the day exploring how to advance the cause of Christian Unity, especially between Catholics and Evangelicals. May we all be one!

For those interested in learning more about this emerging relationship, you should check out the landmark document Evangelicals and Catholics Together (sometimes called ECT).

RIP to my aunt Louise Turner (nee Dowd)

I got a message from my cousin Paul that his mother Louise (my aunt) passed away. Condolences to her two sons, their spouses, her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. She was predeceased by her husband Bruce a little under a year ago.

My siblings and I remember her kindness during many a visit to her home when I was young. She was suffering from dementia in recent years, so we kept those memories for her. Now she is with the Lord. May she rest in peace.

UPDATE: Here is her obituary.

Congratulations to Edwin and Nora!

Congratulations to Edwin (baby on the left) and Nora (baby on the right), two cousins I had the honour of baptising today. I have known (some of) the families for many years now, and I've had the pleasure to get to meet even more. God bless to all, and welcome to God's family!

Experiencing communion for the first time

Some time after my first confession our religion teachers began to shift gears, starting to prepare us for our first communion. For those unfamiliar with the Catholic tradition, the "communion rite" is the time during a prayer service (usually a mass, although not exclusively) where the people approach a minister to receive and eat what appears to the eye as either a piece of bread (most common), some bread with some wine (less common), or just a bit of wine (least common, for exceptional circumstances). As they are distributed during the communion rite, the term "communion" also commonly applies to the substances being consumed. A person's "first communion", therefore, refers to the first time a person participates in the communion rite by going up and receiving communion.

In some spiritual traditions, such as for many Eastern Catholics, a person receives their first communion at the same time they are baptized, i.e. it can be given even to an infant. However, in the Latin tradition (to which most Roman Catholics belong), communion is not given to infants, but is delayed until the person has attained a level of maturity called the "age of reason" (generally considered to be around 7 years old).

Of course, that doesn't stop little kids from wanting to receive earlier. Any minister of communion can tell stories of what often happens when parents bring their children up with them in the communion rite. "Let me see!" they sometimes say when we place the wafer (called a "host") in the adult's hand. "Can I have some? Why can't I have some?" they sometimes exclaim. I've even had a few come up and perfectly imitate the gesture of receiving communion, not noticing Mom or Dad behind indicating, with a shake of the head, that the little one has not yet made his or her First Communion. On some level they know that something special is happening with communion, and they want to take part.

I was no different. I knew I had to wait until I had made my First Communion, and I don't recall making a lot of fuss otherwise. Still, I was curious. During our annual summer holiday at a cottage in the country, I asked the kindly parish priest if I could try a host. My father accompanied us to the sacristy, where the priest took a host out of a tin and gave it to me. It tasted like... not much.

Sometime later I found myself reflecting on this experience. The host was way too small to be worthwhile as food, and as a culinary experience it left something to be desired. So I asked my father about it: what was the big deal?

His answer floored me. "After the host is consecrated, it isn't bread anymore. When we receive the host in communion, what we are actually receiving is the Body of Jesus."

Wait, what?

How was THAT possible?

"It's called 'transsubstantiation'," he explained (and yes, he used that word). "It means that the host keeps all of the outward appearances of being bread, including the look and the taste, but it isn't bread anymore. It is Jesus' body."

This all seemed very strange to me. I didn't have a lot of trouble thinking that transsubstantiation was possible — after all, God could do anything, so if that's what he wanted to do that was his business. But to be honest, it didn't sound terribly plausible. In fact, it sounded a little gross. So I asked where we Catholics got this strange notion that we were eating Jesus' body in communion.

My father's answer? "From Jesus himself." And then he went to a Bible, and showed me chapter 6 of the gospel of John, where Jesus said that the bread he would give the world was his flesh (verse 51). He also showed me how people disputed this saying (verse 52), how some found this teaching intolerable (verse 60), and how some even stopped following him because of it (verse 66). "People had taken him literally," my father explained, "and Jesus did not correct them. When it was the Last Supper, Jesus took bread and said 'this is my body", and then he took wine and said 'this is my blood'. He meant what he said."

I had heard those words before, of course, during Sunday mass. I knew the priest spoke them over the bread and wine, and I knew they had been the words of Jesus. My father explained that this was why we would kneel at that point, why the priest would elevate the elements after each set of words, and why we would ring the bells and bow our heads. Jesus was now present, ready to be received by us as food.

This also explained what happened after receiving communion. I remember being impressed at seeing my parents pray in silence after receiving communion. As I got closer to my first communion, I found myself wondering what I should be "doing" during that time of silence. My father's suggestion was an Our Father, a Hail Mary, and a Glory Be. I knew those prayers, so that seemed simple enough.

Once our special catechism classes for first communion were over, I knew the big day was coming. However, our parish at the time had a curious practice, in that there was no big group first communion ceremony as was found in many other parishes. Instead, the parents were encouraged to decide, as a family, on a particular Sunday when the young boy or girl would receive their first communion along with the regular parish community. As I recall, there was not a lot of extra ceremony.

It was at this time that my mother had an idea. Her suggestion was that I receive my first communion on the Thursday of Holy Week. For those who don't know, the mass of Holy Thursday evening is the special moment of the year when we commemorate the institution of the Eucharist by Jesus. Every mass is a memorial of that moment, of course, but Holy Thursday has that character in a special way. As she pointed out it would make every Holy Thursday from then on an extra special event in my life. Given everything I had learned, it made sense to me.

I don't recall feeling anything particular in the moment when I finally did receive my first communion. I went up, I received and ate the host, I went back to my seat, and I said my prayers. It was all very matter of fact, and I felt as much.

That is, until the end of mass.

My experience of the end of your usual Sunday mass had been: a closing prayer, a set of announcements, and a final blessing and dismissal. Grand total, about 5 minutes. Mentally, I started to already shift gears into going home.

Except this was Holy Thursday.

After the closing prayer, suddenly everyone was back on their knees. The priest put on what looked like an extra white robe (which I would much later learn was called a "humeral veil"), and picked up the vessels that contained the leftover hosts. Instead of putting them back in the tabernacle, he then began to walk around the inside of the parish church with them. It was a procession, complete with candles and an altar server waving incense.

As the priest walked around, the choir began to sing. It was all a capella, i.e. no instruments. I had never heard that gorgeous melody before, and it was all in a language I didn't understand (I later found out it was the Pange Lingua, being sung in Latin).

Through it all, something spoke to me in my heart, impressing on me not words but concepts:

"This is holy."

"What the priest is carrying, is holy."

"What you received, is holy."

It was a genuine religious experience. Despite whatever hesitations I might have had before, I never again had trouble believing in the Real Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist — or at least, not for many years, and even that time of challenge was never about the Real Presence as such. But that is a tale for a later installment of this story.

Corpus Christi procession 2017

Great video of the procession we had on the feast of Corpus Christ. Thousands of people wound through the streets of downtown Montreal, starting from Mary Queen of the World Cathedral and ending at Saint Patrick's basilica. God was good to us with the weather, too: the temperature was perfect, mild with a light breeze, and the rain held off until exactly the moment we made it back to our starting point. I'm already looking forward to next year.

Prayers on a plane

When you are a priest, you never know when you'll be called upon. There are things you can plan, such as a meeting I had in Toronto on June 13-14. But then there are things that are just surprises from God. On my way back from Toronto I wound up sitting next to a lovely couple from Arizona who were on their way to Wabush in Labrador (quite a trip!). After some typical chit chat they asked me to pray with them for a member of their family who is sick. So the three of us, sharing row 16, leaned in and prayed. It was a lovely (and surprising) moment of ministry. God bless to them in their journeys.