Looks like the demons are raising their ugly heads.
There is a story in the church about a pro life priest and a bishop.
The priest is being called back to the diocese by the bishop. He isn't suspended or anything, just called back, plucked out of his pro-live apostolate.
I think the priest is ticked. He played his hand to the media early and basically said that the old bishop understood, but this new guy...well it just isn't working out, so he's going to find some other place to 'be a priest'.
You can search the internet for all the takes on the story--from the financial concerns to the ministerial. I won't plague you with all of that here.
But, from a praylium perspective--the whole entire thing just smells bad--the demonic has taken up residence.
Pride and ego and money are in the mix, actually ALOT of money. Now don't jump to conclusions but between you and me...money....and who has it....are you surprised? Really?
Money (or lack of it) and entitlement go hand in hand.
If a person has money and wants for nothing--they live in the world of entitlement.
And, the opposite is also true--I found as a therapist that many people who were 'playing the social system' felt entitled to do whatever, whenever, to whomever, because they had nothing and something was 'owed' to them.
And, if that isn't enough there's more to this web of entitlement--if a person is jealous or envious of another's money, they may begin to believe that that are somehow entitled to have a piece of it.
In all three scenarios the behavior of the 'entitled' is selfish, obnoxious, and maybe even abusive and violent. Clericalism really is entitlement with robes.
So, money and entitlement, and power and authority--good mix for satan.
By the way, the priest is appealing to Rome. He really really doesn't want to go back with this bishop. Do you think he has any connections in Rome?
Who has the bigger 'connections' the bishop or the priest?
Showing posts with label entitlement. Show all posts
Showing posts with label entitlement. Show all posts
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Demons of Entitlement
A few years ago, when I was an Episcopal rector (which ended up being my last parish ever not only as an Episcopalian but as an Episcopalian Priest), I was sitting alone in the empty church. When I got up, I walked into the sanctuary and moved ONE chair.
Blessed be the name of Jesus!
The stares and the whisperings at coffee and donuts following the first service that sunday were certainly noteworthy.
Finally a few people let me know that my decision was a poor one and that I had no business deciding to move a chair. Did I mention that it was never used?
What right did I have?
I was reminded of this during another one of our family adventures that happened just yesterday...
Seeing that bicycle riding was not proving to be as enjoyable as expected (see previous blog entry) due to the previous day's assault, my family decided to take a walk down on the beach of Lake Erie.
We've walked the same beach for years.
I camped out on a concrete erosion pier while my wife and brother sat in the sand casually looking for beach glass. My son and his aunty were running and jumping into the water.
Suddenly there was a stir in the woods behind us. Startled and alarmed I turned, my heart started pounding, and then....
out from the woods came a man.
This was no ordinary man...
This was a man dressed in hemmed tanned shorts, little socks with sperry docksider shoes, and a cute pink izod polo shirt (I think the collar was turned up)
He approached; " I'm sorry I have to ask you to leave this is private property."
Technically it isn't...you are allowed in that geographic space between the high and low water mark on the beach...which we clearly were.
He continued to babble and babble and claim his territory.
I was too tired.
It was his water, his beach, his entitlement.
He had money--I didn't.
He would pursue it legally--we couldn't.
People like this make me sick.
Entitlement comes in so many forms...24 hours earlier a man was entitled to pull me off a bike. Now, this guy is entitled to kick us off one of the Great Lakes.
I should have shared that we had deeded access and were his neighbors...just about two miles down the beach. Maybe we should have pulled that my wife is a phenomenal physician in town and that we at one time belonged to the country club (where they wear shirts like that). Maybe we just didn't look the part.
The church continues to wrestle with the demons of entitlement. There are Bishops and Priests who abused their administrative, pastoral, and spiritual authority and now, with the flash point of media we know all too well way too much. But it isn't just the clergy. There exists another deadly form of entitlement in parish life and that involves parishioners with money or gossip who entrap pastors and fellow parishioners. It is difficult to break out of that mode of existence.
No wonder St. Michael took issue.
Blessed be the name of Jesus!
The stares and the whisperings at coffee and donuts following the first service that sunday were certainly noteworthy.
Finally a few people let me know that my decision was a poor one and that I had no business deciding to move a chair. Did I mention that it was never used?
 |
| still from film: Jesus of Nazereth |
I was reminded of this during another one of our family adventures that happened just yesterday...
Seeing that bicycle riding was not proving to be as enjoyable as expected (see previous blog entry) due to the previous day's assault, my family decided to take a walk down on the beach of Lake Erie.
We've walked the same beach for years.
I camped out on a concrete erosion pier while my wife and brother sat in the sand casually looking for beach glass. My son and his aunty were running and jumping into the water.
Suddenly there was a stir in the woods behind us. Startled and alarmed I turned, my heart started pounding, and then....
out from the woods came a man.
This was no ordinary man...
This was a man dressed in hemmed tanned shorts, little socks with sperry docksider shoes, and a cute pink izod polo shirt (I think the collar was turned up)
He approached; " I'm sorry I have to ask you to leave this is private property."
Technically it isn't...you are allowed in that geographic space between the high and low water mark on the beach...which we clearly were.
He continued to babble and babble and claim his territory.
I was too tired.
It was his water, his beach, his entitlement.
He had money--I didn't.
He would pursue it legally--we couldn't.
People like this make me sick.
Entitlement comes in so many forms...24 hours earlier a man was entitled to pull me off a bike. Now, this guy is entitled to kick us off one of the Great Lakes.
I should have shared that we had deeded access and were his neighbors...just about two miles down the beach. Maybe we should have pulled that my wife is a phenomenal physician in town and that we at one time belonged to the country club (where they wear shirts like that). Maybe we just didn't look the part.
Entitlement has roots in the demonic. It makes the beholder believe that they are deserving of whatever right they want to exercise. Pride fuels it. Self puffed up lies are it's kindling. Use anybody to get what you deserve and get rid of anybody who is in your way or on your beach.
Entitlement seeks to demean and entrap.
The church continues to wrestle with the demons of entitlement. There are Bishops and Priests who abused their administrative, pastoral, and spiritual authority and now, with the flash point of media we know all too well way too much. But it isn't just the clergy. There exists another deadly form of entitlement in parish life and that involves parishioners with money or gossip who entrap pastors and fellow parishioners. It is difficult to break out of that mode of existence.
No wonder St. Michael took issue.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Not that it matters...
Not that it matters-- but I was impressed with an action of a young priest the other day.
We had arrived our usual fifteen minutes early for Mass (which is quite an accomplishment some days). My son hurried into the sacristry to ready himself to serve.
Mass began two minutes later--great.
The Mass times had been changed. Yeh, we should have known better.
So there was my son, looking pretty torqued during the entrance procession.
No sooner had everyone reached their place in the sanctuary when my boy was pulled aside by a priest who corrected the posture of his hand folding technique.
"Oh boy...here we go." I thought.
I knew what my son was thinking. "Does it really matter how I fold my hands?"
Throughout the rest of Mass I watched as he wrestled with not wanting to be part of a bunch of false piety.
As Mass continued he stood, sat, and knelt--and had absolutely no duties to perform.
But his hands were properly folded.
He was a liturgical flowerpot.
Earlier that day I had an article ready to go. Ironically it was titled; Entitlement, Clericalism and the Sin of Pride.
In it I was going to share some observations about how some clergy come to believe that certain rights, behaviors, and excuses are inherent with ordination and even priestly assignments.
***note I said SOME clergy***
I was drawing on my experiences from my life behind the altar and in the rectory to outside the church to the present moment of just sitting in the pew.
But I can't send out the article just yet.
You see the young priest called the next day to check up on my son and to clarify what happened. Of course I was defensive. Of course I wouldn't have handled it the same way (arm chair priesting)--but in the end, the young priest called and that in itself is a worthy action.
We had arrived our usual fifteen minutes early for Mass (which is quite an accomplishment some days). My son hurried into the sacristry to ready himself to serve.
Mass began two minutes later--great.
The Mass times had been changed. Yeh, we should have known better.
So there was my son, looking pretty torqued during the entrance procession.
No sooner had everyone reached their place in the sanctuary when my boy was pulled aside by a priest who corrected the posture of his hand folding technique.
"Oh boy...here we go." I thought.
I knew what my son was thinking. "Does it really matter how I fold my hands?"
Throughout the rest of Mass I watched as he wrestled with not wanting to be part of a bunch of false piety.
As Mass continued he stood, sat, and knelt--and had absolutely no duties to perform.
But his hands were properly folded.
He was a liturgical flowerpot.
Earlier that day I had an article ready to go. Ironically it was titled; Entitlement, Clericalism and the Sin of Pride.
In it I was going to share some observations about how some clergy come to believe that certain rights, behaviors, and excuses are inherent with ordination and even priestly assignments.
***note I said SOME clergy***
I was drawing on my experiences from my life behind the altar and in the rectory to outside the church to the present moment of just sitting in the pew.
But I can't send out the article just yet.
You see the young priest called the next day to check up on my son and to clarify what happened. Of course I was defensive. Of course I wouldn't have handled it the same way (arm chair priesting)--but in the end, the young priest called and that in itself is a worthy action.
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