Faith & Current Events Archives - Page 5 of 63

January 16, 2013May 29, 2015

A Beautiful Summary of Eucharistic theology in an antiphon by Aquinas

There is a great hymn, an antiphon actually, written by St. Thomas Aquinas for the Office of Corpus Christi. It is O Sacrum Convivium and it serves as a wonderful summary of Eucharistic theology that is worth our attention. With that in mind I’d like to make a brief reflection on some of its compact teachings. First the text, then some commentary:

O sacrum convivium!
in quo Christus sumitur:
recolitur memoria passionis eius:
mens impletur gratia:
et futurae gloriae nobis pignus datur.

O sacred Banquet
In which Christ is received
The memory of his Passion is recalled
The Mind is filled with grace
And Pledge of future Glory is given to us.

O Sacred banquet (O Sacrum convivium) – In recent decades there was perhaps a tendency to over emphasize the meal aspect of the holy Mass, without due and balanced reference to the sacrificial aspect of the holy Mass. But the necessary correction in more recent times, back toward emphasizing that the Mass makes present the Sacrifice of the Cross, should not lead us to forget the mass is also a holy banquet, a sacred meal with the Lord.

For the Lord says, For my flesh is real food and my blood is real drink (Jn 6:55). Thus, the Holy Eucharist is no mere sign, or symbol, but is in fact the true food of Christ’s true Body, true Blood, Soul and Divinity. The Eucharist, is also a foretaste, a praegustatum, of the great banquet in heaven, of which Christ says, And I confer on you a kingdom, just as my Father conferred one on me, so that you may eat and drink at my table in my kingdom and sit on thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel (Lk 22:29-30). And yet again, Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me (Rev 3:20).

Note too that the Latin word convivium, of which “banquet” is an adequate translation, but also contains nuances that go beyond a mere meal. The Latin emphasizes a kind of coming together a sort of celebration of life. Con (with) + vivere (to live). Hence, the meal here is no mere supplying the food or calories. It is a coming together to celebrate new life. We receive the food of Christ’s Body and Blood, which not only gives an ingredient for life, but is in fact the true and very life of Christ.

In the Eucharist, we receive Life Himself, for Christ said of himself, I am the life (Jn 14:6). And further, he declares, As the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever feeds on me, he also will have life because of me. (Jn 6:57).

Of this life, he further describes it as “eternal life,” a term which refers not merely to the length of life, but also to the fullness of life.

Thus the Holy Eucharist is a meal, but no mere meal, it is Life, it is a convivial celebration of that life; it is a banquet which gives Life Himself.

In which Christ is received (in quo Christus sumitur)– Here again, is affirmation that we do not receive mere food, we receive Christ himself. This is no mere symbol, no mere wafer, no mere memory. It is Christ himself that we receive.

The verb here, sumitur, is in some sense bold. More literally translated than “received,” it is more literally translated as “taken up.” It is a present passive indicative form of the verb. And this indicates the great humility of our Lord. He lets himself “be taken up.”

Imagine, the Lord being in a moment of a passive relationship with us. He lets himself be taken up, or taken in by us. He is taken up, and becomes our food. Here is an astonishing humbling by our God, who then allows himself to be assimilated by us, and thereby assimilates us into him.

His humility, is meant to conquer pride in us. Yes, in this great banquet Christ himself is taken up, is received, is assimilated by us. And in this humble manner we are taken up into him, taken in, more perfectly to be a member of his body.

The memory of his passion is recalled (recolitur memoria passionis eius) – The Eucharist is not only a meal, it is the making present of the Passion, Death and Resurrection of Jesus Christ. In every mass, we are brought to the foot of the cross, and the fruits of that Cross are applied to us.

We are also at the resurrection, for in Holy Communion we receive Christ who is living, present, and active.

The Latin verb recolitur, is properly translated “recalled.” However, once again there are nuances in the Latin verb which are hard to render with one English word. The Latin verb recolere means “to cultivate anew.” This somewhat agrarian image points to a kind of careful and intentional growing and fostering of something, in this case the memory of Christ’s Passion.

To cultivate in agriculture, is also to prepare for, and or pave the way for the growth of something. It means to prepare the soil.

In non agrarian settings, to cultivate anything implies a kind of care for it, and intention to foster the growth of something, to further or encourage something.

In all these images we see that the memory of Christ’s Passion is something that we should cherish, encourage and foster. It is something in which we should prepare the ground of our heart for ever deeper insights and for new growth in the memory of what He’s done for us

The other word, “memory,” is also a very precious word. What is memory and what does it mean to “remember?” To remember is to have deeply present in my mind and my heart what Christ has done for me, so that I am grateful, and I am different. It means to have it finally dawn on us what Christ has done for us in such a vivid and real way that our hearts and minds are grateful, transformed, and different. Our hearts of stone are broken open and God’s light and love flood in and we are changed. This is what it means to remember.

It is of course and ever deepening process to recall the memory of His Passion, not a mere one time event.

The Mind is filled with Grace (mens impletur gratia) – There are many graces of course that come with holy Communion:

Our venial sins are forgiven, our holiness is increased, our union with Christ becomes more perfected, we gradually become the One we receive, we receive strength and food for the journey across the desert of this world unto the Promised Land of Heaven, we receive life, and begin to participate in eternal life, our union with Christ and membership in his body is strengthened, as is our union with one another, and our union with the saints in heaven.

Yes, so many grace are infused, are poured forth into the mind and heart!

And a pledge of future glory is given to us (et futurae gloriae nobis pignus datur) – with the reception of Holy Communion come promises from Christ:

But here is the bread that comes down from heaven, which a man may eat and not die. I am the living bread that came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever….Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day….Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me, and I in him. Just as the living Father sent me and I live because of the Father, so the one who feeds on me will live because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven. Your forefathers ate manna and died, but he who feeds on this bread will live forever.” (John 6:50-58)

Yes, here is a pledge of future glory, of victory. Jesus alludes to the manna in the wilderness that sustained them for forty years in the desert. It was a sign of the victory to come. For why would God sustain them in the desert if he did not will to lead them ultimately to the Promised Land? It is the same for us. That God feeds us in this way is a sign and promise of his will to save us and bring us to the Promised Land of Heaven. He blesses and strengthens the journey and so adds surety and the pledge of the destination of future glory.

To this pledge the Lord also adds a warning: I tell you the truth, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you (Jn 6:53)

And St. Paul also adds: Therefore, whoever eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be guilty of sinning against the body and blood of the Lord. A man ought to examine himself before he eats of the bread and drinks of the cup. For anyone who eats and drinks without recognizing the body of the Lord eats and drinks judgment on himself. (1 Cor 11:27-29)

Not a bad little summary of Eucharistic theology, all in a short antiphon.

January 11, 2013May 29, 2015

Answering an Atheist and Asking for Fairness and Accuracy

Susan Jacoby, an author and atheist wrote a column in last Sunday’s New York Times entitled “The Blessings of Atheism.” In it she proposes that atheism has a lot to offer, especially in times of tragic loss and that it frees human beings from having to ask and answer difficult question. As you may imagine, I am not so sure that asserting a question can be avoided means that it has actually been avoided, or that what she calls blessings are in fact blessings.

I would like to excerpt her article and make a few comments. Her original writing is in bold, black italics. My comments are plain red text. These are excerpts. For the full article CLICK HERE

In a recent conversation with a fellow journalist, I voiced my exasperation at the endless talk about faith in God as the only consolation for those devastated by the unfathomable murders in Newtown, Conn. Some of those grieving parents surely believe, as I do, that this is our one and only life. Atheists cannot find solace in the idea that dead children are now angels in heaven. “That only shows the limits of atheism,” my colleague replied. “It’s all about nonbelief and has nothing to offer when people are suffering.” …..

Just a minor quibbles here, the Christian faith does not teach that “dead children are now angels in heaven.” Human beings never become angels, we always remain quite human.

Secondly, I am not sure that what her friend said should be allowed to represent what all Christians think of atheism. I for one do not hold that atheism “has nothing to offer.” People generally do not cling to philosophies that offer them nothing. Atheists clearly do have reasons for holding to their philosophy and it must offer them something. For some it is their response to the problem of evil or the seeming absurdities of this world. For others it is merely that the existence of God is inconvenient to their moral life, or worldview. For still others, it is a way for detaching from what they see as the problems posed by belief (e.g. our concepts of sin, guilt, judgment, and so on). Yet others have many complaints about the Church. I am not trying to speak here for atheists, or put words in their mouths, but the bottom line is people usually hold to things for a reason.

Ms. Jacoby goes on, in a part of the article not reproduced here, to trace the origins of her atheism to the problem of evil and suffering. She saw a friend die a lingering death from polio back in the 1950s. Being dissatisfied with the answers faith provided, she detached from faith and sees atheism as an alternative to believing in a God who would allow such things to happen.

So it would seem that atheism does have something to offer her. She seems to think that the non-answer of atheism is an answer and that denying the existence of God means she can avoid struggling with the questions related to evil and suffering. As we shall see, I propose that here solution offers neither an answer, nor an escape from the problem of evil.

[But] it is primarily in the face of suffering, whether the tragedy is individual or collective, that I am forcefully reminded of what atheism has to offer. When I try to help a loved one losing his mind to Alzheimer’s, when I see homeless people shivering in the wake of a deadly storm, when the news media bring me almost obscenely close to the raw grief of bereft parents, I do not have to ask, as all people of faith must, why an all-powerful, all-good God allows such things to happen.

I am not sure why Ms. Jacoby considers herself free of having to ask this question. I think the problem of evil and suffering is something that perplexes every human being on the planet, and Ms. Jacoby cannot so easily exempt herself from the questions surrounding it. While she may not direct them to God, she cannot ultimately avoid the universal human struggle to inquire into the meaning of all things, including evil and suffering.

Human beings seek meaning, seek reasons. I am not at all convinced that her demurring from the question of suffering is either possible or authentic. The only truly authentic “refuge” from this question is to insist that life and this world really has no meaning at all, to insist that everything is ultimately meaningless, absurd, and pointless. But I have never met a human being, let alone an atheist, that “brave” to live in a world of utter meaninglessness. And hence even Atheists search for meaning, something to work for, base their lives on, something by which to navigate. They too seek answers.

So unless Ms. Jacoby is insistent that nothing has meaning, then she too must somehow wrestle with the basic questions we all wrestle with. Questions that underlie our alarm at the presence of suffering and evil, even before God is included in the question. For example:

Why does anything exist at all?
What is existence?
Why do we value existence over non-existence?
Why is there Love?
Why do we ponder meaning, assign value, grieve loss and celebrate gain, in ways that other animals do not seem to do?
What is justice?
And how do we come to know it and distinguish it from injustice?
Why are its basic concepts so ubiquitous?
And why do humans ponder justice whereas animals do not?
Why does injustice trouble us?
What is suffering?
Why does some suffering alarm us more than other forms?
Why does death alarm us and life please us?
Why are we alarmed at what happened at Sandy Hook?
Why do we say it was wrong or evil?
Why do we seek ways to prevent it in the future?
Where does human wickedness come from?
Why do we call it wicked?
Why do we do such horrible things to each other (things not even animals do) and why does it bother us?
Why do we even have these questions?
Why do we seek answers for them?
Why do we care at all?

I am not trying to be impertinent or playful. But just dismissing “the God question” does not let Ms. Jacoby off the hook. She like all of us, is stuck with trying to make sense out of all this. And there are a ton of underlying questions and imponderables beneath tragedies like this.

I am sure that Ms. Jacoby would have to say, to many of these questions, “I don’t know for sure. I have some ideas but I cannot answer all this.” And that is a fine and honest answer. And you know, I cannot answer it all either.

But then why do we suddenly have to have a clear answer to the God question? Why does Ms. Jacoby say that all people of faith must ask (and I presume answer?) as to why an all-powerful, all-good God allows such things to happen?

Honestly, I don’t have a simple pat answer. And if Ms. Jacoby is ready to answer all the questions above thoroughly and with air-tight completeness that maybe I’ll answer this one. But until then, I don’t know why believers are required to answer such a mysterious and complex question, while she goes free.

To be sure faith does supply some answers to aspects of the problem (e.g. God allows suffering for some greater good or purpose, God draws good from struggles, one moment in time is not the full picture and God will reward those who have suffered, many who are last shall be first, etc.) But none of these are full answers to the great mystery of suffering, evil and iniquity. In many places God is clear that we cannot comprehend all his ways, and believers are content to recognize in humility that we only see a very small part of the picture.

But Ms. Jacoby’s implicit insistence that we must have an air-tight answer to “the God question” is no more binding on us or reasonable to demand than that she should also have air-tight answers to the thousands of other questions that underlie incidents like Sandy Hook. Neither can she reasonably claim to be wholly free of having to ask these questions and both answer them to some extent and admit that she does not have complete answers either.

It is a positive blessing, not a negation of belief, to be free of what is known as the theodicy problem. Human “free will” is Western monotheism’s answer to the question of why God does not use his power to prevent the slaughter of innocents, and many people throughout history (some murdered as heretics) have not been able to let God off the hook in that fashion.

Her assessment is not fair or correct. Theodicy is not “Western monotheism’s answer” to the problem of suffering or evil. The Church does not have a simple answer to the very deep mystery of suffering. Theodicy is surely one of the factors in a framing of the discussion, but the truth of human freedom is held in tension and balance with God’s sovereignty. This is what orthodoxy does, it often holds competing truths in balance and tension. Human freedom is part of the picture, but it is not alone the answer, and we do not propose it as such.

Hence, her statement as written is incorrect.

Her parenthetical remark about the murdering of heretics is gratuitous, and displays the negative animus she brings toward believers and the Church. In this she tips her hand. I will agree that if she will not mention those murdered as heretics, I will not mention 100+ million who were murdered in the last century under the aegis of Atheistic Communism and other secular philosophies.

The atheist is free to concentrate on the fate of this world — whether that means visiting a friend in a hospital or advocating for tougher gun control laws — without trying to square things with an unseen overlord in the next. Atheists do not want to deny religious believers the comfort of their faith. We do want our fellow citizens to respect our deeply held conviction that the absence of an afterlife lends a greater, not a lesser, moral importance to our actions on earth.

Her remarks here fail in terms of relevance. Believers are no less interested in the matters she describes than atheists. The Christian faith has had a remarkable role in inspiring countless people to undertake works of charity. The Church has founded and runs a huge number of hospitals, orphanages, shelters, soup kitchens and many other such outreach. Her implicit suggestion that atheists place a higher moral importance on our actions on earth is not only insulting, it is wrong and misinformed. I’d like to see some statistics to back up her claim. Meantime, I’ll continue put the outreach of Christians and other believers up against any group and I’ll bet we have nothing to be ashamed of.

We must speak up as atheists in order to take responsibility for whatever it is humans are responsible for — including violence in our streets and schools. We need to demonstrate that atheism is rooted in empathy as well as intellect. And although atheism is not a religion, we need community-based outreach programs so that our activists will be as recognizable to their neighbors as the clergy.

Fair enough. But I wonder how atheists would do this as a group since there is no real way they consistently come together in large numbers that I know of. Perhaps that will change. But as it is now, atheists do not seem to be a group that come together or act together in any large.

Robert Green Ingersoll, [an agnostic], frequently delivered secular eulogies at funerals and offered consolation that he clearly considered an important part of his mission. In 1882, at the graveside of a friend’s child, he declared: “They who stand with breaking hearts around this little grave, need have no fear. The larger and the nobler faith in all that is, and is to be, tells us that death, even at its worst, is only perfect rest … The dead do not suffer.”

Yeah, well, it’s a kind of the “death as therapy” thinking. Frankly death is a very strange therapy. But I find it is common today among many to esteem death as therapy. For example, some applaud abortion because otherwise the child might be born in poverty, or have a birth defect or something.

But death is a very strange therapy. To folk who talk like this, I wonder how they would feel if someone from the government came to them and said, “It must be tough earning less than $27,000 a year, so I’m going to kill you.” Or if someone lost an arm in an accident, and the doctor said, “Gee, it must be awful having a defective body. Here let me kill you.” At any rate the “death as therapy” movement is pretty active in this country via abortion and euthanasia.

I suppose I can relate to the fact that it’s good when suffering ends. But I’d kinda like to be alive to experience the relief, if you know what I mean. And even if I could say of my father, when he died, “I am glad his suffering is over,” I’d kind of like for him to be alive somewhere to experience that relief. I’m not really sure what good a benefit of any sort is when you’re not alive to experience it.

Too bad that this is the best consolation that Ms. Jacoby could cite. There’s just something about life and existence that seems essential for consolation to really matter. Non-existence just doesn’t “get me right here.” I’m looking for something with a little more heart.

In the end, a simple request of Ms. Jacoby. How about a little accuracy and fairness? Consistently in her article she has misrepresented what we teach. And while she thinks that “the God question” should have an airtight answer for a believer (it does not for it contains mystery) she would not likely insist on such an answer to any number of other questions apart form the God question. So in fairness, please answer, (with an airtight answer), “Why does anything exist?” And for a bonus question, “Why is there love?” Perhaps there is not a simple answer to such questions. And perhaps there isn’t a simple answer to the problem of suffering and evil. And perhaps that’s OK. Maybe we’d like complete answers, but maybe we can live without them too.

January 9, 2013May 29, 2015

A Source-text for Serenity

I saw a YouTube video today by a fellow Catholic who was quite concerned and animated over what he describes as the desperate condition of the Church. It is true that there is much to be sober about in these troubled times, and we have discussed them quite thoroughly here. There are current and necessary struggles in which we are engaged, especially in seeking to re-evangelize our increasingly disordered culture.

But in all this we cannot afford to lose our serenity. Unsettled warriors are ultimately ineffectual for we cannot bring peace to others unless we first have it ourselves.

I was meditating recently, just before Christmas, on a text from Isaiah and I found it most encouraging, and a kind of source text for serenity. I would like to present the reading and then consider in four parts how a proper understanding of God can help give us greater serenity.

Hear me, O house of Jacob, all who remain of the house of Israel, My burden since your birth, whom I have carried from your infancy. Even to your old age I am the same, even when your hair is gray I will bear you; It is I who have done this, I who will continue, and I who will carry you. Remember the former things, those long ago: I am God, there is no other; I am God, there is none like me. At the beginning I foretell the outcome; in advance, things not yet done. I say that my plan shall stand, I accomplish my every purpose. I call from the east a bird of prey, from a distant land, one to carry out my plan. Yes, I have spoken, I will accomplish it; I have planned it, and I will do it. Listen to me, you fainthearted, you who seem far from the victory of justice: I am bringing on my justice, it is not far off, my salvation shall not tarry; I will put salvation within Zion, and give to Israel my glory. (Isaiah 46:3-4; 9-13)

I. God is Tender. The Text says, Hear me, O house of Jacob, all who remain of the house of Israel, My burden since your birth, whom I have carried from your infancy. Even to your old age I am the same, even when your hair is gray I will bear you; It is I who have done this, I who will continue, and I who will carry you.

One of the great misconceptions of the Old Testament portrait of God is that God is described there only in cruel and punishing terms. It is true that God was dealing with a hardened people in very tough and cruel times, a people who lived in ancient times largely unschooled in law and what we would even call today “civilization.” Tough times, and tough people sometimes called for very tough measures.

And yet despite this, some of the most beautiful and tender passages describing God’s love and rich mercy are in the Old Testament. These opening lines from our passage is one of them, speaking of God lovingly carrying us as a kind a blessed burden from our earliest youth, all the way through old age. Yes, he carries us. As a loving father and he feeds and provides for us. Hosea has a similar passage:

When Israel was a child, I loved him, and out of Egypt I called my son. But the more I called Israel, the further they went from me. They sacrificed to the Baals and they burned incense to images. It was I who taught Ephraim to walk, taking them by the arms; but they did not realize it was I who healed them. I led them with cords of human kindness, with ties of love; I fostered them like one who raises an infant to his cheek; and bent down to feed them…. My heart is moved within me; all my compassion is aroused. (Hosea 11:1-4; 8-9)

How true it is, as Hosea describes that we often run from God, when he merely stoops to feed us. We forget that he is the one who taught us to walk. We forget how in tender mercy he has held as close to his cheek. Instead, we run from him in rebellion and fear. God speaks through Hosea in terms that are almost heartbroken, quite sad at how we run from him.

Yes, God is a father who loves us, who cherishes us, and who, in a mysterious way, grieves that we run from him. In all of this he continues to carry us, he does not forsake us.

And here is an important source of serenity for us: that we recall that God is a tender Father who loves us and wants to save us, who is grieved at our running and joyous at our return. If we can know and experience this love, we are more serene and confident.

II. God is Tried and True – The text says, Remember the former things, those long ago: I am God, there is no other; I am God, there is none like me. At the beginning I foretell the outcome; in advance, things not yet done.

The Lord invites us to ponder the memory of his providence deep in our hearts. To treasure and meditate on his providence of the past, is to grow and hope for today, and trust for tomorrow. How critical is for our own mental health and sense of well-being that we should dedicate ourselves to thankfulness, and meditate frequently on how God has delivered us in the past. He has provided for our most fundamental needs and, whatever our struggles, they have not overcome us. Even our burdens often mysteriously bless us, and are gifts in strange packages. All things work together for good for those who love and trust the Lord of the called according to his purpose (Romans 8:28).

And whatever our concerns for tomorrow whatever our fears, God is not fearful. God has already provided. Tomorrow is just as present to God as our yesterday and this very day. (Providentia Providebit)”Providence will provide.” God knows and foretells every outcome. There is no panic in heaven, just plans. Such a deep conviction, that God is tried and true, a conviction of providence rooted in gratitude is key to our serenity.

III. God is Triumphant – The text says, I say that my plan shall stand, I accomplish my every purpose. I call from the east a bird of prey, from a distant land, one to carry out my plan. Yes, I have spoken, I will accomplish it; I have planned it, and I will do it.

In God the victory is already won. For us life unfolds in stages, but for God all is accomplished. From the cross Jesus said, “It is finished.” Yes, the victory is won: in dying he destroys our death, in humility he conquers pride. The battle is the Lord’s, and the victories is His, it is already won, only the new has not yet leaked out.

If we could but learn to live as though the victory were already ours. Yet so easily we are conquered by negativity troubled by thoughts of doom. The world is lost, the cause is failed, or so we think. But we are deceived, even deluded. And in this delusion, our peace and serenity depart from us, and so often fear and depression take their place.

If we could but understand ponder the God has already won the victory, if we could but recall how many nations and empires have risen and fallen in the age of the Church. Yes, and how many of them have menacingly threatened God and his Church. They have come, had their night, and always been replaced by the day. Light always conquers the darkness. The Church has buried everyone of her undertakers. Where is Cesar now? Where is Napoleon? Where are the Soviets? Whoever will contend with God soon enough are history and the Church will remain.

Philosophies too come and go, but the truth of the Gospel remains. Currently many atheists stand proud, announcing the age of faith is over. They too will have their night, and the light returns again. God’s plan will stand.

We may be puzzled over temporary defeats and setbacks that God mysteriously permits. But here too, he is working his purposes out, he’s pruning and strengthening his Church, purifying his people, and distinguishing those who accept him, and those who reject him.

Recalling that the victory is already won, that the triumph has already been announced, that the winning team is already announced and assured, this too is a source of great serenity for many of us who would fret over momentary setbacks.

IV. God is Trustworthy – The text says, Listen to me, you fainthearted, you who seem far from the victory of justice: I am bringing on my justice, it is not far off, my salvation shall not tarry; I will put salvation within Zion, and give to Israel my glory.

To all those who are anxious and fearful God gives the simple remedy, “Listen to me!” Yes, if we will but listen to God and his Word, we will see how. again and again, he has delivered his people. Is this not what we do it every Mass? We gather and listen to God’s Word. We tell our story that does describe the difficulties of living in a fallen world, but always, in the end, these same texts describe victory and vindication for those who trust God. Didn’t my Lord deliver Daniel? Didn’t he deliver the Hebrew children? Didn’t he vindicate Joseph, and uphold the dignity of Leah? Didn’t the Lord free Paul and Silas, as well as Peter, from prison? And why not me too?

Not only does God tell us to listen, but also to look again. He speaks to those who seem far from the victory of justice. But to seem is not to be. To say that something “seems” is to indicate that what it appears to be, in fact it is not. And thus, to the fainthearted, the doubtful, the doomsayers and all the negative minded, God says that help and salvation are on the way, they shall not tarry. God may not bring all solutions and salvation on our own terms, but he will establish justice in a very little while.

An old hymn says:

Harder yet may be the fight;
right may often yield to might;
wickedness a while may reign;
Satan’s cause may seem to gain.
But there’s a God that rules above
with hand of power and heart of love;
and if I’m right, he’ll fight my battle,
I shall have peace someday.

So here to serenity is rooted in surety. A Surety that knows the victory is already won, and though the news has not yet leaked out, it will soon be clear for all to see.

Here then is a kind of source-text for greater serenity. If we can remember that God is tender, tried and true, triumphant and trustworthy, we can be well assured that greater serenity will be ours. This serenity is crucial for us who would fight the battles necessary today. Serenity will preserve us from wild flaying actions, and imprudent and hasty actions. Serenity helps us to be well rested, even in the storm, as was Jesus in the boat on the storm-tossed sea. Having rebuked the storm he turns to his disciples as asks, “Why were you afraid?”

January 9, 2013May 29, 2015

Faith has to Become Flesh

In yesterday’s post we pondered the insistence of the Johannine scriptures on the fact that Christ Jesus came in the flesh, was incarnate. To the deny the incarnation is a serious heresy that not only misunderstands Jesus, but misunderstands the nature of the faith as well. For if Jesus came in the flesh, if the Word become flesh, then so also must our faith be fleshly. We cannot reduce it to mere ideas. Those ideas, and all doctrine must bear real fruit in our lives that extends to the created and material word, to actual deeds in space and time. Our faith has to become flesh.

At Christmas we celebrated the fact of the Word Becoming Flesh. God’s love for us is not just some theory or idea. It is a flesh and blood reality that can actually be seen, heard and touched. But the challenge of the Christmas season is for us to allow the same thing to happen to our faith. So again, The Word of God and our faith cannot simply remain on the pages of a book or the recesses of our intellect. They have to become flesh in our life. Our faith has to leap off the pages of the Bible and Catechism and become flesh in the very way we live our lives, the decisions we make, the very way we use our body, mind, intellect and will.

Consider a passage from the liturgy of the Christmas Octave from the First Letter of John. I would like to produce an excerpt and then make a few comments.

The way we may be sure that we know Jesus is to keep his commandments. Whoever says, “I know him,” but does not keep his commandments is a liar, and the truth is not in him. But whoever keeps his word, the love of God is truly perfected in him. This is the way we may know that we are in union with him: whoever claims to abide in him ought to walk just as he walked. (1 John 2:3ff)

Faith is incarnational – Note first of all what a practical man John is. Faith is not an abstraction, it is not about theories and words on a page. It is not about slogans. It is about a transformed life, it is about the actual love of God and his Commandments. It is about the actual love of of my neighbor. True faith is incarnational, it takes on flesh in my very “body-person.” Remember, we human beings are not pure spirit, we are not intellect and will only, we are also flesh and blood. And what we are cannot remain merely immaterial. What we most are must be reflected in our bodies, what we actually, physically do as well. Too many people often repeat the phrase, “I’ll be with you in spirit.” Perhaps an occasional absence is understandable but after a while the phrase rings hollow. Actually showing up and actually doing what we say is an essential demonstration of our sincerity. We are body persons and our faith must have a physical, flesh and blood dimension. Our faith is to be reflected in our actual behavior and the physical conduct of our life.
A sure sign – John says that The way we may be sure that we know Jesus is to keep his commandments. Now be careful of the logic here. The keeping of the commandments is not the cause of faith, it is the fruit of it. It is not the cause of love, it is the fruit of it. Note this too, in the Scriptures, to “know” is always more than a mere intellectual knowing. To “know” in the Scriptures means, “deep intimate personal experience of the thing or person known.” It is one thing to know about God, it is another thing to “know the Lord.” So, what John is saying here is that to be sure we authentically have deep intimate personal experience of God is to observe the fact that this changes the way we live. An authentic faith, an authentic knowing of the Lord will change our actual behavior in such a way that we keep the commandments as a fruit of that authentic faith and relationship with the Lord. It means that our faith becomes flesh in us. It changes the way we live and move and have our being. For a human being who is a body-person faith cannot be an abstraction, it has to become flesh and blood if it is authentic. John also uses the image of walking: This is the way we may know that we are in union with him: whoever claims to abide in him ought to walk just as he walked. Now walking is a very physical thing. It is also a very symbolic thing. The very place we take our body is both physical and indicative of what we value, what we think.
Liar? – John goes on to say Whoever says, “I know him,” but does not keep his commandments is a liar. John uses strong language here. Either we believe and keep the commandments or we fail to keep the commandments and thus lie about knowing the Lord. But all of us struggle to keep the commandments fully! John seems so “all or nothing.” But his math is clear. To know the Lord fully, is never to sin (cf 1 John 3:9). To know him imperfectly is still to experience sin. Hence, the more we know him (remember the definition of know from above!) the less we sin. If we still sin it is a sign that we do not know him enough. It is not really John who speaks too absolutely. It is really we who do so. We say, “I have faith, I am a believer, I love the Lord, I know the the Lord!” We speak so absolutely. Perhaps we could better say, I am growing in faith, I am striving to be a better believer, I’m learning to love and know the Lord better and better. Otherwise we risk lying. Faith is something we grow in. Many Protestants have a bad habit of reducing faith to an event such as answering an altar call, or accepting the Lord as “personal Lord and savior.” But we Catholics do it too. Many think all they have to do is be baptized but they never attend Mass faithfully later. Others claim to be “loyal” even “devout” Catholics but they dissent from important Church teachings. Faith is about more than membership. It is about the way we walk, the decisions we actually make. Without this harmony between faith and our actual walk we live a lie. We lie to ourselves and to others. Bottom line: Come to know the Lord more an more perfectly and, if this knowing is real knowing, we will grow in holiness, keep the commandments be of the mind of Christ. We will walk just as Jesus walked.
Uh Oh! Is this salvation by works? Of course not. The keeping of the commandments is not the cause of saving and real faith it is the result of it. The keeping of the commandments is the necessary evidence of saving faith but it does not cause us to be saved, it only indicates that the Lord is saving us from sin and its effects. But here too certain Protestants have a nasty habit of dividing faith and works. The cry went up in the 16th Century by the Protestants that we are saved by faith “alone.” Careful. Faith is never alone. It always brings effects with it. Our big brains can get in the way here and we think that just because we can distinguish or divide something in our mind we can divide it in reality. This is arrogant and silly. Consider for a moment a candle flame. Now the flame has two qualities: heat and light. In our mind we can separate the two but not in reality. I could never take a knife and divide the heat of the flame and the light. They are so together as to be one reality. Yes, heat and light in a candle flame are separate theoretically but they are always together in reality. This is how it is with faith and works. We are not saved by works but as John here teaches to know the Lord is always accompanied by the evidence of keeping the commandments and walking as Jesus did.

Faith is real. It is incarnational. The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, really and physically. So too our own faith must become flesh in us, really, physically in our actual behavior in our very body-person.

I put this video together with a lesser known carol (composed by Richard Proulx). The translation is as follows:

Verbum Caro Factum Est (The Word was made flesh)
Habitavit in Nobis (And dwelt among us)
Alleluia
Notum fecti Dominus (The Lord has made known)
Salutare suum (His Salvation)
Alleluia
Prope invocavit me: (Near is he who calls me: )
“Frater meus est tu!”” (“You are my brother!”)
Alleluia

January 7, 2013May 29, 2015

Living on the Dark Side of the Cartesian Divide. A Reflection on the Gnosticism of our Times

There is a line in the first letter of John (read on the Monday of this week), a line that proves of critical important to many difficulties today with heresy, unbelief and moral decay. The line says:

Beloved, do not trust every spirit but test the spirits to see whether they belong to God, because many false prophets have gone out into the world. This is how you can know the Spirit of God: every spirit that acknowledges Jesus Christ come in the flesh belongs to God, and every spirit that does not acknowledge Jesus does not belong to God. This is the spirit of the antichrist... (1 John 4:1-3)

John also writes in the second Letter:

Many deceivers, who do not acknowledge Jesus Christ as coming in the flesh, have gone out into the world. Any such person is the deceiver and the antichrist. 2 John 1:7

One of those fundamental principles at the heart of the Johannine scriptures is that the Word become flesh. Jesus actually came in the flesh, we could touch our God. The true faith is incarnational. In Jesus Christ, God takes up the physical order, Justice, Truth springs up from the earth (cf Ps 85:11). God actually becomes man. The love of God and his salvation are tangible, and real, not merely ideals, wishes, or hopes, but real and tangible. Faith is about reality. This is John and the Holy Spirit’s insistence, and it is adamantly expressed that we not let this true slip from our understanding even for a moment.

For there are, and have been, many Gnostic and neo-gnostic tendencies down through the centuries which seek to reduce faith merely to intellectualism, to ideas or opinions, and to remove things from the world of reality. Thus St. John and the Church have had to insist over and over that Jesus is real, that faith is real, and is about real, tangible, even material things.

When Jesus came among us, He was not content merely to speak of ideas. He did not simply advance ethical theories or set forth merely philosophical notions. He also spoke to actual human behaviors, not merely speaking of them, but actually living them, and modeling them in the flesh. He demands for his followers not mere intellectual affirmations, but an actual walking in his truth, using our very bodies, and living his teaching. We are to renounce unnecessary possessions, actually feed the poor, confess him with our lips, reverence human sexuality through chaste living, accept suffering, even embraced it, for the sake of the kingdom, and so forth.

Yes, faith is about real things, about actual concrete behaviors that involve not only what we think, but actually how we physically move our body through the created order, how we interact with the physical order, and with one another.

Jesus also took up and made use of the physical and created order in his saving mission. Obviously he took it up in the incarnation, but he also referenced creation in many of his parables, pointing to the lilies of the field, to the sparrow. He made paste with saliva and mud, anointed with oil, change water to wine, laid hands on the bodies of countless individuals in healing, took bread and wine and change it to the body and blood. He took up The wood of the cross, lay down his body in suffering and death, and raised it up again on the third day. Then He took his body, yes his physical body with him to heaven and sat down at the right hand of the Father.

Yet despite this radical physicality seen in the Gospel and the work of God, there remains a persistent tendency on the part of many to reduce the faith by removing it from the physical and temporal order rendering it a merely ethical notion, an intellectualism, or a set of ideas, and even mere opinion. Faith rooted in daily reality, and with measurable parameters, is set aside, and sophistry takes place. Never mind what a person does, all that seems to matter to many us what they think about it, or what their intentions are.

Gnostic tendencies have existed in every stage, but were most severe in the early centuries among heretical groups, only to resurface in recent centuries, especially since the so-called enlightenment where human reason is exulted unreasonably.

The Protestant revolt took up the rationalism of those “enlightenment” times and brought the first great blow to the house of faith by rendering the Sacraments mere symbols, no longer the touch of God. No longer for them does baptism actually save us by washing away our sins, for many of them it only symbolizes faith. Holy Communion for most of them was no longer the actual Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity of Jesus Christ, but only a symbol of him, something that evokes thoughts and memories what he said and did. For the Protestant groups, most of the other Sacraments simply fell away. No longer was it necessary to lay hands on the sick, to lay hands on to ordain or bless. All such things were unnecessary, even abhorrent to many Protestants who took up enlightenment rationalism, and reduced faith to intellectualism, ideas, and words on the page.

Along with the Sacraments, many of the Enlightenment-era Protestants banished most beauty in the churches with iconoclastic tendencies. No longer should creation in the pigmented paints, beautiful stained glass, precious metals, candles incense and so forth be raised up to the glory of God. This too is far too incarnational for the the “purity” of the rationalist mind. Stark white-washed churches were exulted, and the feast of the senses common in Catholicism was frowned upon. Faith that was “purified” of all this incarnational “excess” and was to exist only in one’s mind and heart.

The use of the body to worship in Protestantism was also largely banished. Kneeling, sitting, standing, signs of the cross, vestments, all of this was banished. Afterall what did the body have to do with it? It was in the mind, and in the heart that one worshiped God. Why bend the knee when it sufficed to bow in one’s heart?

And thus, there was a great retreat from the bodily aspect of the incarnation.

We should be clear, that not all Protestant denominations equally indulged iconoclastic and rationalistic tendencies in this aftermath of the enlightenment. There remained many great artistic and musical accomplishments within the Protestant realm, to include architecture. But the general pattern is clear to some extent in all the denominations founded by men after the “Enlightenment.” Worship and faith moved more into the mind, and world of ideas and away from the created, tangible and physical realities of this world.

Many other moral troubles of our day also bespeak a Gnostic, anti-incarnational tendency. For example the exultation of intention over actual behavior. Never mind what a person actually does. The only morally significant matter is what they intend, that they mean well.

Yet another tendency is the word-smithing of our day. It’s not abortion, it’s choice. It is not contraception, it is reproductive choice. I’m not religious, but I’m spiritual. They’re not fornicating, they’re cohabiting, it’s not an act of sodomy it is “gay” etc. The more vague, vapid and non-descriptive the word the better. Abstractions and generalities replace clearer and reality based descriptions.

Here then is a brief tour of the Gnosticism of our times. We can see why St. John and the Holy Spirit were so passionate to warn against any false teachers who denied the incarnation, call them not only false teachers, but “antichrist.” We live on the ever darker side of the Cartesian divide, living in our minds, denying that creation or our bodies are revelation or have anything to say to us.

Of course this is antichrist, it is a slap in the face of God who made all things and established the created by his Word, the Logos. And since all things were made through Christ, the Logos, then all creation has a “logike” (a logic) that is clearly perceived in what God has made. To go on denying this is “illogical” is “anti-logical” is contrary to the Logos, the Word through whom God created and sustains all things. Contrary to the Logos is just another way of saying, “antichrist.”

(One paradox to all this is the flourishing o the material (physical) sciences in our times. I have written more on this paradox here: Cartesian Anxiety)

January 6, 2013May 29, 2015

But why do YOU go to Mass? A Reminder of the critical importance of rendering personal testimony in evangelization.

Some decades ago the argument from authority was often invoked as we answered some question about the faith. It was often considered sufficient merely invoke the existence of a rule. And thus, to my nagging question, “Why should I have to go to mass?” my parents would often answer, “Because it’s a rule!” Other variations of the answer would be, “Because the Church says so,” or, “Because it’s in the Ten Commandments.”

Never mind that there might actually be reasons that there was a rule, or a commandment. It was considered enough in those old days simply to say, “It is a rule.”

If, to some degree, it was sufficient back in those days to merely invoke authority, it is now, for better or worse, no longer the case today that it is enough simply to do so. It is true that there is a rule that we must attend Mass. For as the Catechism says,

This practice of the Christian assembly dates from the beginnings of the apostolic age. The Letter to the Hebrews reminds the faithful “not to neglect to meet together, as is the habit of some, but to encourage one another.”…the faithful are obliged to participate in the Eucharist on days of obligation, unless excused for a serious reason (for example, illness, the care of infants) or dispensed by their own pastor. Those who deliberately fail in this obligation commit a grave sin. (CCC 2178, 2181)

And the Ten Commandments say,

Remember the Sabbath day by keeping it holy…. the seventh day is a Sabbath of rest, a day of sacred assembly. (Ex 20:18; Lev 23:3)

and Jesus says in John 6:53,

Jesus said to them, “I tell you the truth, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you.

As so it is clear, there is a Rule that we attend Mass. But it also remains true that the reasons the Church, the Lord, and Law all say this. For indeed, something is true not nearly because the Church or the Lord, or the Bible say so. But rather, the Lord, the Bible and the Church say so because it is true.

And from this perspective, perhaps it is a good thing that merely arguing from authority, or arguing from the existence of rules and Commandments, is not enough. We live in times where the reasons, and the logic behind such rules is often insisted upon.

Perhaps it is not unreasonable for those to whom we speak to demand such proof. For, as Scripture puts it, Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect (1 Peter 3:15). And thus it is good that we be able to give reasons for the things we teach, and the practices we rightfully insist upon. As never before, we are required not simply to say what we teach, but why.

So alright, parents, you rightfully should teach your children that they must go to Mass on Sunday, and also to pray, prepare for and receive Sacraments, and to belong to a believing community we call Parish, to insist that they ought to read Scripture know the Faith. Yes, it is right that a parent to teach their children these things. So alright you say to your children you must go to Mass on Sunday.

But but why do YOU go?

Notice that this question, does not ask merely for reasons to go to Mass, but asks for YOUR reasons. Why do you go, what is your personal testimony? For, frankly, it is not enough for us to give merely catechetical or apologetical reasons. Our children, as never before, need to have very personal testimony from their parents about the transformative power of faith in Jesus Christ. It’s time to testify, that is, to give her a personal testimony/ Yes, as never before, our children need to hear from us, parents, priests, catechists, parishioners.

So. why do you go to mass? Is there something you get out of it? How have you been blessed, and what are the fruits and effects having gone to Mass faithfully for many years? What effects have the Sacraments, prayer, liturgy in the Mass had on you?

Again, do not overlook personal quality that we must be invited to supply this testimony. Quoting the Saints and the teachings of the Church is indeed good and proper, but it is not enough. There comes a point in every Christian life when we who are mature in the faith need to testify: That what the Scriptures announce and the Church teaches is true. And I personally know it to be true because, in the laboratory of my own life, I have both tested and verified the truth of what is taught, and come to know personally that is true.

Therefore, the question remains, Why do YOU go to Mass?

Let me, as a priest, announce my own testimony. I want to say that since I was 24 years of age, when I entered the seminary, I have gone to Mass every day. I have both studied, and heard proclaimed, God’s Word every day. I have gathered with God’s people in the celebration of the sacred liturgy every day, and every Sunday. I pray every day for an hour, I pray the Liturgy of the Hours, and go to Confession once a week. I have lived in fellowship with other believers, gathering with them for prayer, and have experienced the both silent and vocal testimony of their faith and their experience that God is real, and God is good.

And I want to say, that as a result of all of this, I am a changed man. I have seen sins put to death, and new virtues come alive. I have a new mind, I think different thoughts, my priorities are different, and are better. I am more discerning, and my understanding of the meaning and purpose of my life is deeper. I have overcome terrible anxieties, and fears, and now I live in confidence, hope and joy. My life is not pain-free, or trouble-free, but I understand these troubles in a new way, seeing them as moments for growth, and grace. I am less negative, more positive and hopeful.

I could go on… But let me say this, I give God all the glory. It is his grace that transforms me. And I will say, He has done this primarily through the liturgy, through the holy Mass. He has accomplished this through the Sacraments, especially Holy Communion and Confession. These have been like medicine to me. And remaining faithful to God and to all of his sacraments, his Word and to the fellowship with the Church, I have been utterly transformed by Him and am being transformed more perfectly day by day.

I go to Mass, because through it, the Lord is changing me, is healing me, is transforming me. I have come to personally understand what the Lord means, that if we do not eat his Flesh and drink his Blood, we have no life in us. Without the Sacrament of his Body and Blood, my life would be so diminished, nothing compared to what it is now, in effect dead. It is only by the grace of God, his Word, his Sacraments, Prayer, and fellowship in the Church, that I have any life at all.

Of course we need to go to Mass on Sunday, of course! Without it I would be as dead as a diabetic without insulin, as starved man without food. I go to Mass, because through it the Lord saves me, feeds me, heals me. I have been privileged to walk with the same community of faith for the better part of 20 years. And in those years, in moments of crisis that arose, they have sung to me, prayed for me, witnessed to me, and shared Communion with me, summoning me to faith and reminding me the trouble don’t last always.

Where would I be without the Lord’s Church, without the Mass all the Sacraments, without the Word of God? At best, I would be nowhere, or it worst, is a very dark place.

Thus, I go to Mass receive the Sacraments, pray and keep fellowship, read and study God’s Word because it changes and transforms me. In no way do I see these as tedious rituals. No indeed, these are transformative realities, encounters with the living and healing Jesus Christ, to whom be all glory and thanksgiving.

Why do YOU go to Mass? What is your testimony. It is not enough today (if it ever was) to invoke rules. We have to say why, and we have to testify to it in a very personal way. Why do you go to Mass? Tell somebody!

January 4, 2013May 29, 2015

An apologia for Jibberish, or is it gibberish?

On of my problems on the blog is that I often “commit typos.” That is to say, I am lousy at proof reading my own material. A number of you send me little corregida, for which I am grateful. I do read over what I have wrote, but I read right past my errors and don see them at all. Yet this phenomenon is common in that when reading we often adjust see right past some of the most glaring of errors.

Consider the following passage:

I cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid. Aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn’t mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Amzanig huh? Yaeh, and I awlyas thought slpeling was ipmorantt.

Did you get all that? I’ll bet you did, just fine. I don’t think I missed a point, every word made perfect sense to me, grammatical and lexical nightmare that it was. The nonsense makes perfect sense. But allow this little exercise to explain to you that what I write makes perfect sense to me, even if it crosses your eyes.

An interesting computer thing happened when typing this post too, my spell checker just plain gave up. After the first five or so misspelled word, it just stopped underlining in red. Proof that if you tell a lie long enough, even spell checker will believe you.

And yet I want to remind you that for God, nothing unavenged will remain. My only concern, does this include blog edits? Does God permit alternate spellings and doe she grade on a curve? Will I spend time in purgatory for my unforced editing errors? Please consider praying for me when I die. In the meantime, keep those edits coming.

Here is my favorite jibberish (or is it gibberish) interview.

January 3, 2013May 29, 2015

“Without our traditions our lives would be as shaky as a Fiddler on the Roof.”A Meditation on the Loss and Recovery of Tradition.

When I was a young man, a teenager really, I did the usual crazy stuff of the early, 70s, long hair, bell bottoms, wide ties, crazy plaids, shirt open at least least three buttons, and of course, rock-n-roll.

But, through it all I had this love for older things. I think it had something to do with my Grandmother, Nana, whom I loved with great affection. Often she lamented the loss of the old things and old ways. She missed the Latin Mass, she missed when manners were better, when people remembered how to dress well, when things were more certain, when, (as Archie and Edith put it, Girls were girls and men were men). She also missed when things were built sturdy and plastic was all but unknown.

Somehow her love for older things, and older ways took hold in me, even as I indulged the silly seventies. My parents’ generation born in the late 20s and 30s, and even more so those born after the War, were something of an iconoclastic generation: “Out with the old, in with the new…New and improved.”

I remember my mother often wanting to get rid of some old thing. I often volunteered to remove it, and would then hide it in the attic. Old silver, silverware, Tiffany lamps, statues, trunks etc, began to fill our attic. In addition, I loved old buildings and hated the glass boxes that were being built in the 70s. I remembered the old churches of my childhood in Chicago that “looked like churches” and lamented the “ugly modern church” of my 70s suburb. And even though I liked rock music, when I went to Church I couldn’t stand the “hippie music” of the 60s that predominated in the 70s parishes: Kum-by-yah, Sons of God. Such dreadful lyrics all on stapled mimeographed papers: Here we are, all together now, gathered round the table of the Lord, Eat his Body! Drink his blood! and we’ll sing a song of love, Allelu, Allelu, Allelu, Allelu-i-a!

My Grandmother often said how she missed the beautiful old songs, the incense, the veils, priests in cassocks, and so many other things. She somehow had my ear. I was sympathetic, hiding antiques from both my parents home and from the church too, as they were cast aside. I looked for a day when the sanity would return, and such cast-offs were once again valued.

And that day has largely come. Much of the iconoclasm of the 50s- through the mid 80s has given way, and many older things are once again appreciated. As I took some things out of the attic in the early 90s, my mother strangely appreciated them again. Other family members took some of the silver, etc. My Chalice, (photo, upper right), was an old cast off I had restored. Statues began to return to church, some of the old hymns have returned, and the Latin Mass, relegated to the cellar, has been dusted off and is now appreciated again by many, mostly younger Catholics. I have also had the good fortune of helping to restore two old Church’s to their former glory, and to undo some of the iconoclasm from which they suffered. I even wear my cassock quite often.

For the record, I do not mind some more modern churches, some of them have a handsome simplicity. But nothing irks me more than to see a beautiful older Church made to look like 1985, all white-washed and stripped bare. Thankfully, I think that terrible era is largely ending.

But we have been through a time of it in the Church to be sure. Perhaps some things had to go “into the attic” for a time, in order that they could be taken down again, and appreciated anew. But whatever the reasons for the iconoclasm, especially of the 1960s, I sense we are now recovering a balance. A balance that does not reject the new, but still appreciates the old; a balance that nods to a hermeneutic of continuity, of which the Pope speaks, rather than a rupture and radical discontinuity with the past; a balance of which Jesus says, Therefore every scribe who has become a disciple of the kingdom of heaven is like a head of a household, who brings out of his treasure things new and old (Matt 13:52).

Many look back and wonder at the great rupture and cultural tsunami we have endured in the West. We wonder how, and why. There are of course countless reasons, but I would like to single out just one: forgetfulness.

Traditions set up and endure for a reason. Fundamentally they simplify life by giving structure, boundaries and expectations. People know more easily how to navigate in the realm of tradition. But one sign that a tradition is in danger, is when people come to forget its purpose, when people forget where it came from or why we observe it, when people forget what it means or symbolizes.

I wonder if I were to get in my time machine and go back to 1940 in this parish and ask people some questions: Why do women wear hats and veils and men do not cover their heads? Why do we kneel to receive communion? Why is the Mass in Latin? Why does the priest face toward the altar? Why are all these things done this way? I suspect I would get an answer something to the effect: “I dunno, we just do it that way. Why don’t you ask the priest?”

In other words, I wonder if the first stage of losing a tradition is when it no longer makes conscious sense to people? That is, when when it is no longer clear to them why we do what we do, other than to say, “That’s just what we do.”

At some point when we are dealing with tradition we run the risk that they become wooden and rote, and we start sifting through the ashes of an old fire that has largely gone out. Unless we fan into flames the gifts of God’s love (cf 2 Tim 1:6) our love and appreciation of these things grows cold, and their beauty tarnishes. And then, some one says of something, “What’s this?” And we say, “What?! that old thing?!” And thus the suggestion to “get rid of it” receives a cursory nod, “Sure, that’s fine, get rid of it”

But the process begins with forgetfulness. And forgetfulness leads to a lack of understanding which then gives way to a lack of appreciation. And all this culminates with an almost gleeful dismissal of things old and now tarnished traditions which once sustained and framed our lives.

To be sure, some things need to fall away and perhaps there is place and time to lose things for a while, only to rediscover them. But what we have experienced in the last 60 years has been more than this sort of natural process. It has been a rupture, and radical discontinuity that has shaken many of our foundations, Church and family especially.

Therefore we do well to “remember” many of our traditions. The word “remember” suggests a process of putting the pieces back together again, a process of collecting some precious things that have been severed from the body and making them once again a “member” of the Body, the Church, and of our families. Remembering many of our lost traditions, even as we establish some new ones, is an important way of ensuring continuity with our past heritage and members.

Tradition is the “democracy of the dead” wherein our ancestors get a say in what we do. Tradition is a way to “re-member” the Church, to honor the ways and practices of the ancients that my grandmother recalled with fondness and a sense of loss. And it was a loss, but a loss I pray we are beginning to remedy, as we remember the best of the past and recover our traditions.

I thought of all of this as I watched this video from Fiddler on the Roof. This was written at a time when the sweeping changes of the last 60 years were already underway. And this song “Tradition!” while it tips a hat at tradition, ultimately ridicules it by implying that tradition is the kind of thing that essentially keeps men in charge, women down, and forces children into arranged and unhappy marriages.

At a key moment in the song Tevye is describing a tradition of the prayer tassels and says, You may ask, how did this tradition Got Started? And then after a pause he says, I don’t know! But it’s a tradition! The first sign that a tradition is in trouble is forgetfulness.

But the musical (written in 1964) pretty well captures the iconoclastic attitudes emerging at the time that were cynical of tradition in a general sort of way. Despite that cynicism Tevye rightly notes what we have come to discover only too well:

“Without our traditions our lives would be as shaky as a Fiddler on the Roof.”

</p>