Christ’s Resurrection and Ours

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The closest we’ll ever come to experiencing creation, as the Creator did, is to experience the re-creation of what’s already been created in new ways… like when the writer puts words on a blank page, or the pianist improvises arpeggios at the keys, or the artist finds new interpretation for the hues on the palette.

We, in some way, participate in creative endeavor, but we don’t create as God did: creating something from nothing. Even the amazing conception of a human person, whose genesis necessitates the genetic donation of his or her biological parents, is not a creation ushered forth from nothingness… but, rather, a loving gift of Creation already set in motion by the hand of God ages ago.

On the other hand, the closest we’ll ever come to experiencing resurrection, as Jesus did, will be our very own resurrections.

I find this to be the most astounding, stunning, and extraordinary reality of the Christian faith. That the person who dies will mysteriously live again… not just resuscitated, like a person who comes back from death thanks to CPR, or like Lazarus who was called out of the tomb by Jesus. (Cf. John 11:1-44.) Even though Lazarus lived again, his old body eventually died again.  No, one day, after we die, we will be truly alive in an eternal, non-stop, supernatural, transcendent, and glorified way. Thanks to the redemption won for us by the death and resurrection of Jesus.

Resurrection from the dead is a foundational truth of Christian faith—right after the idea that God could become incarnate. What a mighty God we have!

What Jesus did first, in rising from the dead with a glorified body, we, too, will do in the joy of heaven.

We find these ideas encapsulated in the Compendium, a question and answer type of catechism, which is a concise and faithful synthesis of the Catechism of the Catholic Church.

Question 126: What place does the Resurrection of Christ occupy in our faith?  [See CCC 631, 638.]

The Resurrection of Jesus is the crowning truth of our faith in Christ and represents along with his cross an essential part of the Paschal Mystery.

Question 131: What is the saving meaning of the Resurrection? [See CCC 651-655, 658.]

The Resurrection is the climax of the Incarnation. It confirms the divinity of Christ and all the things which he did and taught. It fulfills all the divine promises made for us. Furthermore the risen Christ, the conqueror of sin and death, is the principle of our justification and our Resurrection. It procures for us now the grace of filial adoption which is a real share in the life of the only begotten Son. At the end of time he will raise up our bodies.

Question 204: What is the relationship between the Resurrection of Christ and our resurrection?  [See CCC 998, 1002-1003.]

Just as Christ is truly risen from the dead and now lives forever, so he himself will raise everyone on the last day with an incorruptible body: “Those who have done good will rise to the resurrection of life and those who have done evil to the resurrection of condemnation” (John 5:29).

The Church gives us fifty days of Eastertide to ponder these mysteries! You might also want to consider picking up a copy of the Compendium for your shelves, as it presents a wonderful overview of the Catechism!

 

 

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Moving the Stone

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Late last month, I brought my car to a Chevy dealership for some routine servicing. As I got out of the car, I was greeted by an employee who said he had a question for me. He wanted to know how the stone was moved away from the tomb. His reference of course was to Jesus’ tomb. I told him that the moved stone signaled the Resurrection had occurred.

In today’s gospel, Saint John describes for us how Mary Magdalene came to the tomb early in the morning – while it was still dark. (cf. Jn 20:1) Despite the darkness, she saw that the stone was removed from the tomb. (cf. Jn 20:1)

The moved stone is not insignificant, I contend. It is interesting to note, for example, that when the Risen Lord appears to the apostles in the upper room, He passes right through the locked doors. (cf. Jn 20:19) He obviously could have done the same with the stone at His burial place – pass right through it. Nevertheless, our text says only that the stone was removed.

We can figure on two reasons for the stone in front of the sepulcher. One is given by the Pharisees and chief priests: “that the grave be secured . . . lest his disciples come and steal him.” (Matt 27:64) The other reason of course has to do with health. Like Lazarus who had been dead for four days, there would be a stench. (cf. Jn 11:39)

We have no way of knowing the precise dimensions of the stone at Jesus’ tomb. Nevertheless, we can presume it was very large and that it would require a team of men, perhaps even having to use an animal with ropes to re-locate the stone.

A very large stone imposes restrictions, it inhibits you from moving about freely and functions just as bars do in a prison. You are confined to a prescribed place and there you remain until someone removes the impediment.

A very large stone at the entrance to Jesus’ tomb was put there by men – sinful men, you and me. And there is only One who can move it and that is God. The scribes and Pharisees were right: “[O]nly God can forgive sins.” (Mk 2:7) But they were wrong about Jesus: He is not a blasphemer. (cf. Mk 14:64)

The Son not only forgives our sins, He has also conquered death. When Jesus first said that He has overcome death, many of His listeners did not accept it and they walked away in protest. (cf. Jn 6:66) The apostles, though, remained with the Lord on this occasion because they knew Jesus had the words of eternal life. (cf. Jn 6:68)

Jesus has the words of eternal life because He is eternal life. (cf. Jn 11:25) If anyone eats the Lord’s flesh and drinks His blood, the Lord will raise him up. (cf. Jn 6:54) The Eucharist is thus the gateway to eternal life, and no stone – however large – can keep the forgiven sons and daughters of God from delighting in the risen life of Christ.

He who knew no sin was made sin for us, says Saint Paul in the New Testament. (cf. 2 Cor. 5:21) With this expression, the apostle describes what Jesus does to make us righteous before God. (cf. 2 Cor. 5:21) Making use of a similar irony and paradox, Saint Peter proclaims in a post-Resurrection confession of faith. “He is the stone rejected by you, the builders, which has become the cornerstone.” (Acts 4:11)

We have built for death and we have used stones of mortality by our sinning. Jesus has reversed this pattern by His Resurrection. In Him, the destroyed temple (cf. Jn 2:19) has been astonishingly re-made. Our bodies, in imitation of His, can be gloriously transformed. (cf. Phil 3:21) In the Risen Lord, we have become temples of the Holy Spirit.

This Easter, Christ comes to us, a living stone. (cf. 1 Pt 2:4) Here, at this Eucharist, like at our Baptism, we are being built into a spiritual house. (cf. 1 Pt 2:5) In the household of God (cf. Eph 2:19), all that we are and all that we do is inexorably related to the Holy Eucharist. It is the Lord’s sacramental presence which forms and shapes us inwardly, ratifying our identity as the sons and daughters of our heavenly Father before any other allegiance.

“In my Father’s house,” Jesus tells the apostles at the First Eucharist, “there are many dwelling places.” (Jn 14:2) Even if we bristle under the Father’s headship and throw off the easy yoke of our dwelling with God (cf. Matt 11:30), our status as sons and daughters remains intact because of what Jesus accomplished through the sacrifice of His life upon the altar of the Cross. He has reconciled us with the Father, sealing the covenant in His blood. It is the memorial of the Lord’s passion and Resurrection, the Holy Eucharist, which guarantees our access to the richness of the Father’s mercy. (cf. Eph 2:4)

Who, then, would ever want to stay away from such a splendid thing as the Eucharist? We could stay away if we prefer isolation and withdrawal over union and intimacy and fear and loneliness over trust and solitude. The Risen Lord, though, has conferred a matchless power on union, intimacy, trust and solitude and defeated the enemies of isolation, withdrawal, fear and loneliness. This great movement in history began when the stone was moved out of the way on that first Easter Sunday.

Praised be the Risen Christ!

Solemnity of the Resurrection
Acts 10:34a,37-43; Col 3:1-4; Jn 20:1-9
April 8, 2012

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The Power of the Passion

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Stripped down to its barest essentials, power is the ability to put an idea into practice. To be sure, how we exercise power is an important matter, but first we must know what it is before we wield it.

In the ancient world, there was no better concrete expression of power than the Roman Empire. The Romans had the best schools and the most learned teachers. Their armies, which marched all over the known world at the time, scored victory after victory and subdued every foe. Roman engineering feats – bridges, great buildings and the like – were the envy of those seeking some permanent reminder of achievement. All of these things testified to Rome’s power, but perhaps nothing was more emblematic of Roman power than the law.

Long after Roman schools had passed out of existence, long after Roman armies had stopped conquering enemies and long after their buildings had been reduced to rubble, the power of Rome was still being felt through the law. The Romans had been notable for developing a system of law that sought justice over caprice, and planted the concept of giving each person his due everywhere they went. History shows that material and physical accomplishments can be leveled to dust quickly, but not so the longing and passion we have for justice.

Early in the passion account of Saint John, Jesus appears before Pontius Pilate, the personification of Roman law, to answer the charge that He is a king. (cf. Jn 18:33-38). Jesus links kingship with the truth in His reply to Pilate, acknowledging that the reason He came into the world is to testify to the truth. (cf. Jn 18:37) Pilate is mystified, however. “What is truth?” he muses. (cf. Jn 18:38) It is not enough for the Roman authority in Palestine to be cavalier in his attitude about the truth, he even says in reference to Jesus: “I find no guilt in him.” (Jn 18:38) Not finding guilt in Jesus, Pilate still – amazingly – does not treat Jesus justly. Instead, he acts on the Jewish custom of releasing a prisoner at Passover, allowing the guilty Barabbas to be spared over the innocent Jesus. (cf. Jn 18:39)

In Christ, One Who is innocent and blameless in every way is condemned to death. (cf. Jn 19:16) What then can we say of power in the case of Jesus? It has been grossly misused against Him. It has been utterly debased, placed at the service of falsehood and compromise. Honor and integrity have been sacrificed in favor of cowardice and pusillanimity.

Holy Week always brings into sharp focus the central mysteries of our Christian faith. From Palm Sunday to Easter Sunday, the Church invites us to witness to and share in the rites by which we claim salvation in Christ. It would be a mistake, however, if through our witness and participation we did not stop to consider this week what is the true meaning of power in our lives.

For some of us, power is found in always getting our own way. We unfailingly manipulate situations so that we always come out on top – we won’t tolerate any other outcome at home, at work, or wherever we may find ourselves. We relish the feeling of having it “one up” on those around us. For others among us, power is in calculating how to make the most number of people dependent on us, thereby satisfying our need to be needed. There is enormous ego pleasure in knowing we are indispensible to others. For still others, power is in being above the fray, detached, and untainted by the vicissitudes of life.

Holy Week shows us a beaten and dejected Savior. Bearing our infirmities and laying upon Himself our guilt (cf. Is 53:4,6), He challenges us to shake off our false notions of power – whatever they may be and in whatever form they may take. Power is not in what I cling to and what I hold on to; it is in how I empty myself, as Saint Paul indicates for us in today’s second reading. (cf. Phil 2:6-7) The Lord’s obedience unto death (cf. Phil 2:8) is the real power at work in His life and in our lives too – if only we allow it to be so.

Let us be alert to the Lord’s power here at this Eucharist. May it cleanse us of our sins and make us the new creations promised by the Resurrection!

Palm Sunday Homily
April 1, 2012

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The Deeper Meaning of Wealth

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On a cool autumn night more than thirty years ago, the words of today’s gospel rang out in Yankee Stadium. They were proclaimed in the House that Ruth built as Pope John Paul II celebrated Mass. Commenting on this passage from Saint Luke, the Holy Father said then:

“We cannot stand idly by, enjoying our own riches and freedom, if, in any place, the Lazarus of the twentieth century stands at our doors. In the light of the parable . . . riches and freedom mean a special responsibility. Riches and freedom mean a special obligation.” (Homily at Yankee Stadium)

The appropriateness of the parable of the rich man and Lazarus for proclamation during the pontiff’s first pastoral visit to our country could scarcely be questioned. The United States was then and continues now to be the most affluent nation in the history of the world. Millions and millions of people have become materially rich in America. Even more people have known an unparalleled political freedom here.

In the view of some, the pilgrim Pope had come to the shores of America to afflict the comfortable. To others, he was preaching the Gospel of a preferential option for the poor. To those who accept Michael Harrington’s analysis, the Pope was exposing the other America.

The other America, of course, is poverty, the other side of wealth. There is no getting away from the fact that there are two sides. In today’s gospel, Our Lord indicates that following death, both the rich man and Lazarus are separated by a great chasm. (cf. Lk 16:26) It prevents anyone from crossing from one side to the other. (cf. Lk 16:26)

It is clear from the text that one side is heaven and the other is hell. One side is in the bosom of Abraham (cf. Lk 16:22) and the other is a place of torment. (cf. Lk 16:28) The rich man has brought this judgment upon himself because he failed to attend to the needs of the poor man Lazarus lying at his door. (cf. Lk 16:20) He preferred during his earthly life to dine sumptuously every day. (cf. Lk 16:19)

Jesus teaches that the judgment of the nations will be based on the corporal works of mercy. “I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink, a stranger and you gave me no welcome, naked and you gave me no clothing, ill and in prison, and you did not care for me.” (Matt 25:42-43) It is the Lord whom we disregard when we neglect the least ones. (cf. Matt 25:45)

In his homily of thirty years ago, the Pope also said that the Church cannot limit herself to the social fruitfulness of the Gospel. “Along the road that leads the Church to man,” he stated, “she does not offer . . . only the earthly fruits of the Gospel; she brings to man – to every human person – his very source: Jesus Christ.” (Homily at Yankee Stadium)

We all recognize Lent as the season of re-committing ourselves to a care of the poor among us. And certainly we must bear in mind the very serious words of Our Lord that our judgment and salvation hinge on assisting those who are materially deprived. Let us not forget, though, the words of the Pope. The Church is to bring us to Jesus Christ. This is why we evangelize; this is why we catechize; this is why we form men and women in discipleship; this is why we share in the sacramental life.

One of the troubling tendencies pastorally is the widespread acceptance that religion now is just helping people. There is a growing horizontalism which considers prayer and the interior life irrelevant before the main task we have of improving the conditions of the planet. I don’t think this is unrelated to the indifference there is to religious and spiritual doctrine in the midst of the world’s diversity and pluralism. Since there are so many competing ideas about God and there is a reluctance to say which ones are right, it is best to stick with just helping people and the rest will take care of itself.

Pope John Paul II’s successor, Benedict XVI has visited the United States, too, and even before his visit nearly four years ago, he spoke to this problem in his first encyclical, Deus Caritas Est (2005). He wrote then that “it is time to re-affirm the importance of prayer in the face of the activism and the growing secularization of many Christians engaged in charitable work. Clearly, the Christian who prays does not claim to be able to change God’s plans or correct what he has foreseen. Rather, he seeks an encounter with the Father of Jesus Christ.” (DCE, 37)

To encounter the Father of Jesus Christ is the purpose of priestly formation now. As seminarians, you ought to be engaged in the very serious work now of developing capacities and aptitudes for knowing God in the often subtle ways He touches our hearts. For this is what you will be helping others to do later on in your priestly ministries.

We all need to listen to Moses and the prophets. (cf. Lk 16:31) Even more than that, we all need to listen to the One who has risen from the dead. (cf. Lk 16:31) The Eucharist is the bridge connecting one side to the other. It connects the rich and the free with the poor and obedient Christ. We rise here with Him, having found the deeper meaning of wealth under the easy yoke of the Cross. Our trust, the prophet Jeremiah reminds us today, is not in human beings. (Jer 17:5) It is in the Lord, he says. (cf. Jer 17:7) So, too, is our hope. (cf. Jer 17:7)
Praised be Jesus Christ!

Thursday of the Second Week of Lent
Jer 17:5-10; Lk 16:19-31
(Homily to seminarians, presented on March 8, 2012)

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Faithful Unto the Madness of the Cross

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Growing up, we get advice all the time and from many different quarters, too. Some of the advice is good, and some of it is, well, not so good. A piece of good advice is to defer a decision until the emotion of the moment has passed. If we postpone a decision from the time when emotions are running high until later when we are calm, it increases the likelihood of a better quality of decision and a more favorable outcome for us.

I am thinking of two examples which support the eminently trustworthy advice of holding off a decision until after the emotion has passed. The first concerns an athlete, one who has not played for several consecutive games – he’s not left the bench, he’s not left the dugout. In a fit of frustration, he takes himself to the coach or manager’s office and announces that he is quitting. After he has handed in his uniform and is away from the team, a few of his former teammates go down with injuries. The opportunity to get off the bench or out of the dugout had finally come, but it is missed. A hasty, imprudent decision had seen to that missed opportunity. The second concerns an employee who has been trying for a promotion. After not getting it, he informs his boss that he is resigning his position. Weeks later – on the sidelines and without a regular paycheck – the unemployed man learns that another position had opened up in the company, a job more attractive than the last one and one for which he is even better qualified. It too was a missed opportunity. And, once again, a hasty, imprudent decision was responsible.

We ought not to let our emotions get the better of us. But, obviously, they sometimes do. We usually regard these situations in life – when our emotions are running high – as not having much potential for placing us in communion with the Lord or deepening our communion with Him. But perhaps then we underestimate them.

God is able to use the immediacy of events in our lives to elicit from us a commitment of heroic proportions. The immediacy of our lives includes upheaval and turmoil, conditions  created by events in which we are caught up to one degree or another. The immediacy of our lives includes conflict and anxiety, antithetical to the serenity and peace we normally associate with right dispositions for prayer.

The first reading at mass today comes from the Book of Esther, an Old Testament book which we are not accustomed to hearing from with any regularity at the liturgy. It concerns, not surprisingly, a certain Queen Esther. She is a genuinely remarkable figure, having succeeded with her uncle Mordecai in staving off Jewish destruction at the hands of Israel’s enemies. Queen Esther is thus rightly praised as a deliverer of the Chosen People. Yet, despite her exalted status as a queen, she still exhibits a very common touch in her reaction to things.

The sacred author describes her as being “seized with mortal anguish.” (Est C:12) We might liken this reaction of hers to being at our wit’s end, utterly distressed and distraught. Given this interior state, we are amazed that she still “has recourse to the Lord.” (Est C:12) We are told further that she lays prostrate with her handmaids all day long and prays to God. (cf. Est C:14) She begs the Lord for assistance as she laments being left all alone. (cf. Est C:14) She knows of course that the Lord will not leave her an orphan. (cf. Est C:23) And Yahweh does indeed vindicate Queen Esther’s faith with a victory over Israel’s enemies, resulting in the Feast of Purim which continues to be observed in our own time by pious Jews.

We started our Lenten journey this year as we do every year with an invitation to pray. (cf. Matt 6:6-8) Accompanying the injunctions to fast and to give alms, our prayer this holy season is to strengthen our communion with Christ and fortify us for the scandal of the Cross. When it comes to prayer, we acknowledge that certain interior dispositions are properly salutary. Who doesn’t want to be recollected in advance?  Who doesn’t want to be serene in the Lord’s presence? But do these conditions always prevail in our hearts and minds? Most assuredly, they do not.
This week at the liturgy, we have already listened to a few texts pertaining to the prayer of Christ’s disciples. On Tuesday, the gospel revealed Jesus teaching the disciples to pray, going so far as to indicate words that please God. We ought, He said, to address God as “Our Father.” (cf. Matt 6:9) As the Lord forgives us our trespasses, Jesus instructed, so must we forgive those who have trespassed against us. (cf. Matt 6:12) And we cannot overlook the gospel of this mass when Jesus says, “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.” (Matt 7:7) While we realize that petition is certainly not the only kind of prayer there is, it remains an esteemed part of our patrimony of prayer. Why else would we approach the God of fullness if not to request from Him the good things that He surely wants to give us? (cf. Matt 7:11)

As important as these passages are, by far the most effective teaching that Jesus gives on prayer is the example of His own prayer. On the eve of His passion, while in the Garden of Gethsemane, Saint Luke records how Jesus prayed, “Father, if you are willing, take this cup away from me.” (cf. Lk 22:42) There is no mistaking that this moment is full of emotion for Jesus – heart-wrenching emotion, for sure. And, clearly, Jesus cannot put off a decision on His mission to a more serene time, a less dispassionate moment. Yet, in the turbulence and turmoil of His passion, Jesus still prays, “not my will but yours be done.” (Lk 22:42)

In conflict and upheaval, Jesus’ communion with the Father in the Holy Spirit is not undercut. This is the challenge presented to us: In the conflict and upheaval of our lives, will our communion with the Lord be weakened or severed? Or, will the immediacy of heavily emotional moments find us being faithful unto the madness of the Cross on the model of the Master?

Thursday of the First Week of Lent
Esther C: 12; 14-16; 23-25; Matt 7:7-12
March 1, 2012

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The Crucible of Choosing

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[This exquisite homily was written before Lent began, but with Msgr. Batule's kind permission, we share it with you here.]

Tuesday of the Sixth Week
Jam 1:12-18; Mk 8:14-21
February 14, 2012
Memorial of Saints Cyril and Methodius

The Crucible of Choosing

In a little bit more than a week, Lent will be here for us. It’s a stark season for sure, but one that’s very vivid at the same time. Its vividness is tied to the fact that many of us give things up as a penitential discipline. In most cases, though, the “giving up” is temporary. We return to regular eating patterns, viewing patterns and other such things just as soon as we mark Christ’s victory over sin and death at Easter.

Along with giving things up, there is of course the struggle to do just that. We wage an internal battle, fending off urges and impulses to use what we pledged not to use on Ash Wednesday. How fitting then is the gospel for the First Sunday of Lent we hear no matter the year on the calendar! The Synoptic Gospels – Matthew, Mark and Luke – pretty much convey the same material concerning the temptation of Jesus at the start of His public ministry. This year, being Cycle B, we will listen to Saint Mark’s version. It’s a typically sparse rendering by the evangelist – just three verses in the lectionary and the Bible. (cf. Mk 1: 12-15) And if you take away the fact that the text in question includes Jesus going to Galilee to begin His public ministry (cf. verses 14-15), you’re really only dealing with a two line description of the temptation by Saint Mark. Not long, we would have to concede, but long enough. It’s long enough to incorporate the irreducible basics related to the temptation. We find that Jesus is tempted in the desert, that He is in that locale for forty days and that Satan is the Tempter. (cf. Mk 1:12-13)

The gospel for the First Sunday of Lent gives us specificity and concreteness. It gives us the answers to the questions we would ask if we were analyzing the incident, say, forensically. It satisfies our curiosity involving who, when and where of the case in question. It doesn’t offer us any commentary about the nature of temptation and why temptation is such a powerful force in our lives. The word of God does indeed provide that data for us, but we have to go elsewhere to get it.

Yesterday, we started reading at daily mass from the Letter of Saint James. We will continue to listen to selections from this New Testament book right on up through Tuesday of next week, the day before Ash Wednesday. In today’s first reading, the sacred author treats temptation in the first part of the passage. He gives us what I would regard as the etiology of temptation, and this neatly complements the specificity and concreteness of the evangelist. The etiology gives us the layers behind what is observable. When we peel back the layers, we’re able to get at the nature of temptation, we’re able to appreciate why it is such a potent force in human endeavors.

Saint James writes that desire conceives and brings forth sin. And sin, when it reaches maturity, gives birth to death. (cf. Jam 1:15) There you have it! Disordered desire is at the very foundation of temptation. And that’s just the beginning. It grows and increases until it reaches a mature stage, comments the sacred author. And in its fullness, the temptation eventually metastasizes and results in death for the one who is tempted. I like to refer to this phenomenon as the trajectory of tragedy. To use another image, there’s an arc to temptation. It rises not to glory but falls to misery and heartache.

Jesus is without sin but He is the Master of choosing. No matter what the condition is, He chooses the Father and the Father’s will. (cf. Jn 5:30) That is how He is triumphant in the desert. That is the secret of His success. And it can be ours too if we let it.

This is a period of transition for many of us here at the Seminary of the Immaculate Conception. How do we successfully negotiate this juncture in our lives? Let me suggest for our consideration today someone who might serve as a guide, someone quite adept at following wherever the Lord was leading him. I am referring to Jean Marie Lustiger.

Born in 1926 into a Jewish family in France, Jean Marie at the age of 13 decided to seek Baptism. He was baptized a Catholic in 1940. Eventually discerning a vocation to the priesthood, Jean Marie was ordained in 1954. He later was made a bishop, having served first at Orleans and then transferred from there to be the Archbishop of Paris. In 1983, Pope John Paul II created him a cardinal. With family members killed by the Nazis in concentration camps and having a father who once tried to get his son’s baptism annulled, Jean Marie’s life was filled with surprises and great drama. In a volume titled Choosing God, Chosen By God, Lustiger told the story of his own life in a series of interviews. His keen sense that the Lord had chosen him began with Israel’s election, he confessed. But he believed Christ to be the Messiah, the hope of man’s redemption.

Surrounded by uncertainty and not knowing where we should go next, the Lord calls out to each one of us. We can let go and trust because of the example of the apostles who took up with Jesus, believing as Andrew did, that he had found the Messiah. (cf. Jn 1:41) We choose God because He has first chosen us. His choice of us as servants builds confidence that we can choose the Lord ahead of disordered affection, before uneducated desire. Temptation affords us the opportunity to be firm and resolute in where we are going in life. When we choose the Lord and His Kingdom, it sets us not on the trajectory of tragedy but on the road to Jerusalem. In our own crucible of choosing, we are renewed and emboldened by Jesus’ desire there “not my will but yours be done.” (Lk 22:42)

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Here Comes MAC! Baltimore’s Brave New Conference

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If your actions inspire others to dream more, learn more, do more and become more, you are a leader. (John Quincy Adams)

I am psyched. I’m heading to Baltimore in March for a major new Catholic conference that seeks to bring hope to the Church by developing leaders in all areas of Catholic life and ministry.

The MidAtlantic Congress for Pastoral Leadership launches its first annual event March 8-10 at the new Baltimore Hilton (only a few blocks from the Basilica of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary), with the bracing theme, “Witness Hope!”

A joint effort of the Association of Catholic Publishers and the Archdiocese of Baltimore, the “MAC,” as its visionaries call it, seeks to:

  • Bring the best of Catholic pastoral ministry, religious education/catechesis, and theology to parish leadership
  • Provide an opportunity for parish and school leaders to network with each other and meet in peer groups for support and enrichment with possibility of these meetings continuing through informal groups and emerging social media following the conference
  • Provide an opportunity for parish and school leaders to dialogue with the publishing community to discuss ministry resources and develop best practices
  • Provide an opportunity for skills development
  • Celebrate our faith through prayer and worship
  • Finally, for ACP members, it is hoped that this congress will provide a tangible benefit to its catechetical, liturgical, trade and music publishing members and support for the ACP. (Courtesy of Paul Henderson, MAC co-chair, and Director of Operations and Project Management, USCCB Communications)

Recalling the now-defunct East Coast Conference for Religious Education, ACP’s Executive Director, Therese Brown, who is also MAC’s General Coordinator, explains that in recent years the types of leaders in dioceses, parishes, and Catholic schools has noticeably shifted. “For decades, most ministry leaders were full-time staff, often religious, with master’s degrees.” But in recent years lay ministers are more likely to be part-time staff. Many are volunteers. “They have different needs,” she says.

“Without the ECC,” explains conference co-chair, and Baltimore’s Executive Director of the Department of Evangelization, Fr. John Hurley, CSP, “there was no catechetical conference on the east coast to provide for those needs.” So when the ACP approached the Archdiocese of Baltimore about creating something unique, Archbishop Edwin O’Brien gave his full support.

The location made good sense for several reasons, says Fr. Hurley. “When the ACP came to us, they needed a location that would be accessible to large numbers of people. At that time, many dioceses had begun to restrict travel,” he says, so it was unlikely that east coast parishes would be sending their staffs to events in Los Angeles or Dallas.

“With the economy faltering, attendance numbers at all such conferences are down,” he says, “and hotel prices north of Philadelphia are too high for an event like this to be feasible.” So giving the MAC a permanent home in the more reasonably-priced and centrally-located city of Baltimore made good sense for attendees.

And it’s good for Catholic publishing, too. Fr. Hurley explains. “Conferences like this help publishers get their resources out to their markets, but it also helps them to find new authors. We wanted to do this conference in a new way. We didn’t want to have the same people keynoting, just recycled from other events. We have a mix of headliners and new authors and theologians.”

As inspiration for the new congress, Brown cites the USCCB’s Lay Ecclesial Ministry Project (2005) and its signature document.

“Coworkers in the Vineyard of the Lord”  is the bishops’ pastoral statement on lay ecclesial ministry. It was the outgrowth of a longer process of observation and reflection on the part of the bishops that started many years ago, on the reality of the leadership of the laity in the parish. The MAC builds on the call of the bishops to form lay leaders for their roles in the life of the Church. All of our presentations will come from a leadership perspective,” she says. “Hopefully, one of the outcomes is that attendees will feel more strongly and passionately about their call to ministry.”

The event has an impressive schedule. Building in a dynamic diversity of people, languages, and topics, the 90+ presenters will give 39 master classes and 4 rounds of break-out sessions (75 breakouts total) that will cover such widely varied topics as catechesis for kids and whole communities, RCIA, youth ministry, liturgy, music, multi-cultural issues, social justice, Catholic schools, media, evangelization, and much more. ASL interpretation is available at all major events, and many Spanish-language presentations are offered.

One of the highlights of the congress will prayerfully embrace the season of Lent. A very special Way of the Cross will take place on Friday evening, March 9th, written and directed by Michael Ruzicki, Coordinator of Adult and Sacramental Formation for the Archdiocese of Baltimore. With beautiful banners created by Liturgical Press, this focal point for the congress is hoped to be a memorable and uplifting experience for attendees.

Fr. Hurley says, “We wanted to acknowledge that it was a Friday in Lent, but go beyond lamenting and recognize that the Pascal mystery gained us something! We need to celebrate that faith and enrich it.”

The congress will close on Saturday with something called “Parishioner Day,” which provides special attention to catechists, other parish volunteers, and those who serve on their parish boards.

“We need to be messengers of hope,” says Fr. Hurley. “All of us in leadership positions have challenges. These are the signs of the times. But our ‘young’ Church is full of energy and hopefulness. We have to meet it head on, meet them where they’re at with social communications. They need engagement. People don’t just want to be members, they want to be welcomed, to become a part of the mission.”

Plans are well on their way for the next MAC congress, says Fr. Hurley. “2013 will incorporate the 50th Anniversary of Vatican II, the 20th Anniversary of the Catechism of the Catholic Church, and the Year of Faith. We’ll focus more on young leaders next time, school boards, and more tracks in English and Spanish.”

The organizers are offering a special group registration deal for staff members or teams attending together from dioceses, parishes, and schools. “For every four people who register they get one admission free. So, five for the price of four!” says Fr. Hurley.

I hope to see many of you there. I’ll be tweeting (@lisamladinich #macongress) and blogging all three days, live, from the conference, at Patheos via the “Summa This, Summa That” blog.

In the next few weeks, I’ll be interviewing some of the MAC presenters, so stay tuned, and spread the word!

God bless you!

I led them with cords of human kindness, with leading strings of love, and I became for them as one who eases the yoke upon their neck and stoops down to feed them. (Hosea11:4)

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“Someone” Beautiful for God

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Monday of the Fifth Week
1 Kgs 8:1-7; 9-13; Mk 6: 53-56
February 6, 2012
Memorial of Saint Paul Miki and Companions, Martyrs

Malcolm Muggeridge was an English controversialist and journalist whose life spanned just about the entirety of the twentieth century – he was born in 1903 and died in 1990. He was first an agnostic and then later on became a Catholic – a deeply committed Roman Catholic at that. His conversion was hastened along by the witness of an Albanian-born nun by the name of Mother Teresa of Calcutta, who even before her death in 1997 was regarded as a living saint. Muggeridge was so moved by the founder of the Missionaries of Charity that he decided to make a film about her in the late 1960s so the rest of the world could come to know what he had discovered in this very holy woman.

After he finished making the film, Muggeridge was at a loss as to the title he would give it. While reading through a piece of correspondence from Mother Teresa, he found the right words to capture the vision he had brought to the big screen. Mother Teresa had written: Let us do something beautiful for God. There it was – Something Beautiful for God – that’s what he would call his film.

In my view, he could just as easily have titled his film Someone Beautiful for God – although Mother Teresa would not have liked it. She was much too modest to accept this kind of designation about herself. Her focus was always on the work she was doing for God; it was never on herself. In fact, she would have regarded the personal attention as a betrayal of her service to the poor, as something not in keeping with the humility we should have about ourselves in imitation of Christ.

Nonetheless, there is a sense in which someone beautiful for God is an apt description for Mother Teresa. I’m referring to the sense of every man, every woman. Every man, every woman is someone beautiful for God. Certainly that’s what Mother Teresa believed – every dying person she and her Sisters pick up from the streets of Calcutta is someone beautiful for God. Each dying person, treated with the utmost dignity and respect by Mother Teresa and her Sisters, has wounds bandaged because the Lord has already bound up the wounds of our sins. By His dying on the Cross, He has healed us by His stripes. (cf. Is 53:5)

In today’s first reading, the sacred author describes for us the solemn dedication and consecration of the temple in Jerusalem. We hear in the text how the ark of the covenant is carried forward in procession by the priests and Levites. (cf. 1 Kgs 8:4) We can just imagine the precision and exactness it required on the part of the Lord’s ministers. In this dedication and consecration, a column of smoke fills the temple, indicating the presence of the Lord’s glory. (cf. 1 Kgs 8:10) How majestic a sight this must have been to set your eyes on! It’s no wonder that Solomon, addressing the Lord of glory, cries out, “I have truly built you a princely house.” (1 Kgs 8:13) Solomon was no doubt wise, but modest he was not!

The temple was something beautiful for God with all its gold, silver and precious metals. But was it the most beautiful thing of all?
Early on in Jesus’ public ministry, Saint John the evangelist has Jesus in the holy city of Jerusalem, in its temple area where he finds moneychangers and drives them out of His Father’s house. (cf. Jn 2:14-15) Overturning their tables in an act of righteous indignation, Jesus boldly proclaims at the same time, “Destroy this temple and in three days I will raise it up.” (Jn 2:19) The evangelist informs us just two lines later that Jesus “was speaking about the temple of his body.” (Jn 2:21)

In today’s gospel, the evangelist records how Jesus ministered to the sick. Wherever Our Lord visits – whether villages, towns or the countryside – the sick on mats are brought to Him. (cf. Mk 6:56) All they want to do is touch the tassel of His cloak; and Jesus of course obliges their request. (cf. Mk 6:56) These sick people are unable to walk; their legs and presumably other parts of their bodies are severely compromised. Saint Mark indicates very simply at the end of the text that these sick men and women are healed of their infirmities. (cf. Mk 6:56)

There is a story told about Saint Lawrence the Martyr, the third century deacon in Rome and it goes like this: Lawrence, the servant of the Lord and His people, is instructed to produce the most coveted and most valuable possessions belonging to the fledgling and persecuted Christian community in the Eternal City. Instead of bringing forward the most precious sacred vessels used at the liturgy, the deacon presents the lame, the crippled, those whose bodies are racked with pain. These are the ones who are beautiful for God!

We are still a few weeks away from the beginning of Lent and we have an even longer distance to cover liturgically before we get to Holy Week. Still, I do not think it imprudent to invoke an image from that penitential season now. Jesus is the Suffering Servant. He is the One of whom Isaiah prophesied long ago: “There was in him no stately bearing to make us look at him, nor appearance that would attract us to him . . . . One of those from whom men hide their faces, spurned.” (Is 53:2-3) There was no beauty there, or so it seemed.

Father Richard John Neuhaus, the founding editor of the journal First Things, once preached the Seven Last Words of Christ devotion in New York City and turned his reflections on that occasion into a volume entitled Death on a Friday Afternoon. He referred to Jesus’ death there as a dreadful beauty – something physically repugnant yet spiritually and morally splendiferous at the same time. In going to the Cross obediently, Jesus did something beautiful for God. Through His humility, He showed Himself as Someone Beautiful for God. So might we turn our own lives into something beautiful for God, and thereby become someone beautiful for God by choosing not the way of self-fulfillment but self-abandonment.

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Spirituality for 2012 – part 2

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Talk about famous last words…I concluded my last post on Amazing Catechists – “Spirituality for 2012” – with the statement, “I will be publishing a follow-up to this article in a few days.”  Ummmm….that was over a month ago.  Yikes!  Obviously, I need to invest in a new watch or a new planner.  Or maybe I should learn how to use the ones I have!

I suppose I could have moved on and written about something else; I haven’t seen any indications that the masses are sitting on the edge of their seat waiting for the conclusion to my ideas about spirituality in 2012.  However, the ideas that I started kicking around in my head over a month ago are still floating around up there (which I’m interpreting as a good sign) and so I really felt like I needed to get out what I’ve been thinking.

I would certainly encourage you to familiarize yourself with my first posting prior to jumping ahead into this one.  The overarching theme for that first post can be expressed in the following statement from the former Master General of the Dominican Order, Fr. Timothy Radcliffe, OP, who once said the Christian life is one that is “moral, reflective, prayerful, and imaginative.”

The big news story in the United States, as far as the Catholic Church goes, is the recent decision by the Obama administration to demand that sterilization, abortifacients and contraception be included in virtually all health plans, including ones provided by employers who have a moral objection to such procedures and prescriptions (e.g. Catholic Church).  In addition to the news cycle, there is a constant stream of commentary on what the Church should do in response to it.  Admittedly, I have contributed to that stream on my own blog.

But as I keep tabs on that developing story line in the news, I come back to this post on spirituality and on looking forward in 2012 and I see a connection that I didn’t see 5 1/2 weeks ago when I wrote the first installment.  So instead of being distracted maybe it was the Holy Spirit that lead me to wait so long to write part two.  :-)

In the ongoing remarks on the USCCB and HHS, I’ve seen a lot of commentators offer potential responses the Church should take.  The two most common are: 1) the Church should just retreat in to itself and 2) the Church should just get with the times.  I would like to label these two ideas as the “Catholic Ghetto” and “assimilation,” respectively.  Additionally, I would add that both of them are dead-ends.

The idea or label, “Catholic Ghetto,” does not belong to me.  I think a good definition of it is provided here:

It is common for certain sociologist and theologians to refer to the Catholic situation of the 1940’s and 50’s as a time when the Church in America lived in a Catholic ghetto.  What this is getting at is that the Catholic population in the U.S. lived as a minority population that held together strongly by means of clearly defining itself over and against the rest of American culture.

As parishes in the United States became less nationalistic and more inclusive of a variety of ethnicities, the Catholic Ghetto largely broke apart.  For the most part, the break up of Catholic Ghettos is a good thing because in addition to the ones listed above, another of its characteristics was that Catholics “did not see themselves as called to influence the culture around them,” a view that is contrary to both scripture and the Church’s teaching.

You can still see some signs of the Catholic Ghetto mentality.  For example Tom Monaghan, the founder of Domino’s Pizza, has tried to create a “Catholic” town in Ave Maria, Florida.  In this town, with Monaghan’s Catholic College in the center, Catholic families will live together, their children will grow up with other Catholics, marry other Catholics, and live in Ave Maria.  Monaghan’s vision is founded on the premise that Christianity, along with many academic disciplines, was kept alive in the Dark Ages in monasteries; they were small pockets of truth in an otherwise corrupt world.  At first brush this idea seems solid but as I’ll point out later, it is not without significant flaws.

The other dead-end is “assimilation,” where Catholicism just becomes like everything else and Catholics look like everyone else.  Through assimilation, Jesus can henceforth be referred to as a “good man” and Christianity can be seen by society as “good thing” but neither should be spoken too loudly.  In this way, Catholics and the faith they profess becomes invisible.  In 1994, Jonathan Sacks wrote a book called, “Will we have Jewish Grandchildren?“  In it, he reflects on how to keep the faith of Jewish antiquity alive and flourishing in future generations.  This idea is something we also need to reflect on within the Catholic community.

I think of an oak tree with its roots running deep into the ground where it draws life giving nutrients and water, the things necessary for its survival.  The trunk of the tree, its base, provides the foundation for continued growth.  But ask yourself: where do we see the greatest signs of life on a tree?  Do we see it when we look at its trunk?  No.  It is when we look at its tips, where new leaves sprout each spring.  We see the greatest signs of life, growth, and vitality at its extreme ends.  But all parts, from the massive trunk to the smallest buds sprouting at the tips of the highest branch, are 100% oak tree.

The tree is a familiar metaphor for the Body of Christ, the Church.  The ground represents God where the tree trunk (i.e. the Church) is firmly planted.  It is the ground (God) that feeds the oak tree (Church) all it needs to survive.  From the trunk, branches (individual Catholics) grow, reaching out in an endless amount of directions, always springing forth with new signs of life and vitality.  This metaphor shows us God’s plan.

God has promised to provide everything we need, but we can’t get it when we are not connected to the tree trunk; we can’t just be a branch suspended in the air (cf. Jn 15:5).  Nor can we be a branch just laying on the ground, cut away from the tree.  When that happens, the tree is weakened and the direction that particular branch was growing out towards will not be reached.  The fallen away branch just lays on the ground and eventually dies.  It is possible, indeed it is necessary, for the tree branches (Catholics) to be 100% Catholic and reaching out to a world that is not the same as itself.

The unity within Catholicism of God, the Church, and its people, is an earthly example of the the most perfect unity, that of The Blessed Trinity.  The doctrine of the Trinity is what Christianity has that no other religion does and we can demonstrate it by living our lives, firmly grounded in the Church.  In fact, I would submit the doctrine of the Trinity may be the most important aspect of a spirituality for 2012 and beyond.

During the Enlightenment, man developed a deep seated resentment towards doctrine, especially Catholic doctrine.  Nicholas Lash wrote in his book, Believing Three Ways in One God:

The Enlightenment left us with what we might call a crisis of docility. Unless we have the courage to work things out for ourselves, to take as true only that which we have personally attained or, perhaps, invented, then meanings and values, descriptions and instructions, imposed by other people, feeding other people’s power, will inhibit and enslave us, bind us into fables and falsehoods from the past. Even God’s truth, perhaps especially God’s truth, is no exception to this rule. Only slaves and children should be teachable, or docile.

But the ancient doctrine of the Trinity, regardless of what those enlightened individuals might believe, may be the most exciting thing we have to offer as Catholics.  However, it will only be exciting if it is in contact with something outside of itself.  Keeping it locked up, like in a Catholic Ghetto, will strip the doctrine of all its power and vitality.

The doctrine of the Trinity is often held up as something remote and obscure.  I would submit that it only becomes remote and obscure in its presentation, not in its actuality.  The best way Catholics can communicate the truths encapsulated in the doctrine of the Trinity is to communicate their faith in the doctrine through conversation.  It is the personal aspect of taking time to talk with people that will resonate with others.

This should make perfect sense to us!  After all, what is the Trinity but the eternal, equal, living conversation between the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit?  Additionally, we see the Trinity made real for us in the person of Jesus, who, among many other things, is a man of conversation.  Take a look at him through the eyes of John.

  • Jesus’ conversations when calling his disciples (Jn 1:29-51)
  • The conversation with Nicodemus who came to talk to Jesus at night (Jn 3)
  • The conversation with the Samaritan Woman at the well (Jn 4:4-42)
  • The Bread of Life Discourse (Jn 6:22-71)
  • The conversation with the woman caught in adultery (Jn 8:1-11)
  • The conversation with the man born blind (Jn 9)
  • Last Supper discourses (Jn 14)
  • Jesus’ conversation with Pilate (Jn 18:28-40)
  • Jesus’ conversation with Thomas (Jn 20:24-29)

There are a couple of keys to understanding these passages and to ultimately discerning our own response to challenges in our time.  Jesus was constantly in conversation with people and not just his disciples, but he was reaching out to people that were outside his “comfort zone” or outside convention (e.g. conversation with the Samaritan woman).  We continually see Jesus in contact with “the other” and offering them the love and peace of his father.  This is what the Catholic Ghetto can not do.  It betrays the openness to the other that is so obvious in the Gospel.

Secondly, true conversation, the type that has the potential to be life-changing, is open, mutually respectful, and loving.  We don’t see Jesus talking down to people nor do we witness him talking about people; rather, he spoke to them.  The story of the man born blind really illustrates that point.

Third, everyone that hears the conversation is converted.  Converted to what and to what degree can not necessarily be determine and in the grand scheme of things, it is not that important that we know.  A good conversation will take you to unfamiliar ground and lead you in unexpected directions.  Through them, all will grow in grace.  We are not in charge of that grace; at best, we can only hope to be channels of it.

We never know who may be touched by our conversations.  It may be the person we are most directly involved in speaking with is the least moved, but the person who merely overheard it is changed for ever.  Jesus held many conversations in crowds, big and small, and we read in the scriptures how people would “murmur” among themselves while Jesus spoke.  They were being touched by what Jesus had to say and they weren’t even in the conversation.

Our thinking is mostly dualistic: white/black, up/down, left/right, Republican/Democrat, Catholic/Protestant, etc.  It is these oppositions that help give us our identity.  But this dualism, does not allow for openness or for love.  Instead we should allow ourselves to be swept up in a Trinitarian love that opens up possibilities for going places beyond these simplistic, either/or distinctions.  We can be immersed in the love between the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  This love is not introverted; it can not be kept in a ghetto.  Indeed, it is the Holy Spirit that pushes us to be in contact with people and situations that are beyond ourselves.  It is so alive, so bursting forth with vitality that it can not be made to look like everything else (i.e. assimilated).

The doctrine of the Trinity is the most exciting thing we have to offer others.  It is what should guide our spirituality in 2012 and beyond.  It is the doctrine behind the words of the God who says: “Behold, I make all things new” (Rev 21:5)

 

I am indebted to Fr. Timothy Radcliffe, OP who has helped me see these things in a new, fresh way.

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Spirituality for 2012

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One of the things you hear from people during this time of year is they “need to beat the rush.” For example, “I need to get up at 4am on ‘black Friday’ so I can get to the mall and beat the rush.”

So in keeping with that idea of needing to “beat the rush,” I’ve decided, on Christmas Eve, to write about next year, 2012, in order to beat the rush and get a leg up on all the other bloggers out there.

Okay, that’s not really why I’m writing about the new year before we even have celebrated The Solemnity of the Nativity of the Lord.  I know most Catholic bloggers have focused their writings on the coming of the Messiah, or the meekness of the King of Glory as he lay in the manger; their pieces are timely, powerful, and excellent for reflection and guiding prayer.  But I am looking ahead.  I really want us to be taking those familiar Christmas themes and carrying them forward beyond the Christmas liturgy and into the new year.  I want us to find the spirituality associated with Christmas and recognize that it is not just for the month of December, but for everyday.

I know, I know.  I can imagine the collective groan as people start moving their cursors to the red “X” in the upper right hand corner of the screen.  Most people believe that when Catholics start talking about “spirituality,” orthodoxy gets thrown out the window.  I get it.  I’ve seen plenty of that material too.  However, I can assure you, this is not that kind of post and if you indulge me for a few more minutes, I’ll prove it.

One of my sons, Noah, is seven years old and he has been going crazy for the past two weeks, waiting for Christmas.  In fact, one of the traditions in our home is to buy everyone a new pair of Christmas pajamas to wear to bed on Christmas eve and on Christmas morning.  This year, Noah’s expectation is running so high, that he has been wearing them for the past two days; as in, he hasn’t worn anything else!  I can already see the debate we’ll have later when it’s time to go to Mass.  But, I digress…

This expectation is an important part of Christmas, not only for children, but for adults too.  Indeed, Advent is a season dedicated to expectation.  Consider these snippets taken from the Advent Gospel readings:

  • “Watch, therefore; you do not know when the Lord of the house is coming….” (first week of Advent)
  • One mightier than I is coming after me.  I am not worthy to stoop and loosen the thongs of his sandals.  (second week of Advent)
  • I am the voice of one crying out in the desert, ‘make straight the way of the Lord,’” as Isaiah the prophet said. (third week of Advent)
  • Behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall name him Jesus.  He will be great and will be called Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give him the throne of David his father, and he will rule over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end. (fourth week of Advent)

We can see the Lord’s coming is unexpected, but anticipated.  We don’t know when it will occur, but nonetheless we are exhorted to, “Watch!”  We see John’s testimony about the Lord in the next two weeks.  It not only highlights the coming of Jesus, but serves as foreshadowing of our efforts to evangelize, always pointing to the “one mightier than ourselves.”  And finally in Gabriel’s message to Mary, the Kingdom which Jesus shall rule over will have “no end.”

The expectant message of Advent is not only in anticipation of the Lord’s coming as a baby, the celebration of a historical event, but also serves celebration of a future event when the King of all the Ages comes at the end of history (cf. CCC 526, CCC 1042).  Therefore, the first (i.e. Christ’s incarnation) should influence our spirituality as we journey towards the second (i.e. Christ’s second coming).  But what should our spirituality look like as we anxiously await a world that is not here yet?

Almost exactly forty years ago, in October 1971, John Lennon released the song, “Imagine.”  In it, the former Beatle sang, “Imagine there’s no heaven; it’s easy if you try.”  Coincidentally, for the past forty years people have been living as if there is no heaven; they are not anticipating the return of the King of Heaven.  It would seem the pervasive idea of no heaven and hell, articulated in John Lennon’s famous song, resonates more with modern man than Catholicism’s call for people to lead lives of holiness and charity.

There may be good reason for that.  The rise of religious fundamentalism and fanaticism in the past half century, both  inside and outside of Christianity, has paved the way for a popular (and profitable) backlash against religion in general and Christianity in particular.  Books by Richard Dawkins (The God Delusion) and recently deceased Christopher Hitchens (God is not Great) fly off the shelves in great quantities, demonstrating the popularity of the idea that there is no heaven and no hell.

If you survey the “religion” section of your local bookstore, I believe you are likely to see, in addition to books by Dawkins and Hitchens, books written to direct people to a new kind of spirituality apart from religion, or books dressed up as orthodox (i.e. Richard McBrien) that really get many of the facts wrong.  Interestingly, there is no shortage of this type of material being distributed.  From these facts, I can only assume there is a great interest in religion/spirituality, there is a thirst for God, but there is a lot of aggression and ignorance too.  Unfortunately, people like Dawkins and McBrien seem to have the lead in telling the story – our story!

In order for Christianity to grow and truly become the life changing force it is in 2012 (and beyond), it must be something more than just “spirituality.”  The life of the Christian must be, as the former Master General of the Dominican Order, Fr. Timothy Radcliffe, OP, once said, “moral, reflective, prayerful, and imaginative.”  The Christian life, truly understood and lived, would be a synthesis of these four items.   We must use our imagination to combine ethics (i.e. morality), theology (i.e. reflection), and spirituality (i.e. prayer) into our daily lives.  If these items exist apart from one another the result is never good, even sometimes tragic.  For,

  • Ethics/morality detached from spirituality and theology reduces the Christian life to a list of do’s and don’t's.  It is overly moralistic.
  • Theology detached from spirituality and ethics can be arid.  The Christian life was meant to produce fruit, not be a dry wasteland.
  • Spirituality detached from theology and ethics reduces the Christian faith to set of principles based on warm, fuzzy feelings.

The challenge for our spiritual lives in 2012 is to bring together all these aspects.  Advent and the season of Christmas, with all its expectation, awe and wonder should inspire to dive deeper into our faith.  As we contemplate the awesomeness of God becoming man, being born in a state of lowliness, and the worshiping Magi during this season, we should be renewed in our desire to pray more, study more, and live virtuously.

 

I will be publishing a follow-up to this article in a few days.  Right now, I have to go begin to get my seven year old out of his PJ’s and ready for Mass!  Have a blessed Christmas!

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