There is a notion that ushering in reform or change requires large numbers, majority percentages, and the like, but a passage from the First Book of Maccabees reminds us that Heaven’s math is not always ours:
But Judas said: “It is easy for many to be overcome by a few; in the sight of Heaven there is no difference between deliverance by many or by few; for victory in war does not depend upon the size of the army, but on strength that comes from Heaven. With great presumption and lawlessness, they come against us to destroy us and our wives and children and to despoil us; but we are fighting for our lives and our laws. He himself will crush them before us; so do not be afraid of them.” When he finished speaking, he rushed suddenly upon Seron and his army, who were crushed before him. (1 Mac 3:20-24)
Intensity, dedication, perseverance, and fortitude often win the day even when sheer numbers are lacking. Water spread over a large area quickly becomes a stagnant pond but focused in a narrow channel it can be a mighty stream.
Another well-known story is that of Gideon, whose army of 30,000 was outnumbered two to one. Despite this, God told him his army was too large! He instructed Gideon to dismiss the cowards, those who did not feel up to the battle—20,000 left. God said that 10,000 was still too many soldiers and told Gideon to keep pruning. Eventually, the army was reduced to a mere 300 men. Those 300 defeated an army of 60,000; they won the day because God was with them.
In the Church, reform often comes quietly at first, through individuals who gather a small colony of Heaven about them by God’s grace. As the Church was exposed to the corrupting influences of the world, monks fled to the desert, and others joined them. Monasticism grew like embers in a darkening world. At other times of darkness and uncertainty in the Church, individuals like St. Catherine of Sienna, St. Francis of Assisi, St. Teresa of Avila, and St. John of the Cross appeared, as if out of nowhere, and small colonies of Heaven grew up about them.
In times like these, remember the mathematics of Heaven, which often uses remnants and tiny mustard seeds to accomplish its purposes. We may have grandiose visions of how God should fix the Church and may want God to bless the things we are doing to try to fix it, but another approach is to find out what God is blessing and then do that. It could be things as simple and old fashioned as getting married, staying married, having many children, and raising them well. It could be Eucharistic adoration, fasting, praying the rosary, teaching the faith, and fighting the battles right in front of us, just as Judas Maccabeus, Gideon, Catherine, and others did.
God has a plan to restore His Church in times like these. Is there perhaps a Catherine, Francis, or Teresa walking in our midst even now? Meanwhile, God reminds us to walk humbly with Him, live the faith, and tend the vineyard He has given us. Perhaps these are small things, but with God small things can bring about great ones.
St. Augustine wrote,
Quod minimum, minimum est,
Sed in minimo fidelem esse,
magnum est.
What is a little thing, is (just) a little thing, But to be faithful in a little thing, is a great thing.
I’ve often been impressed by the ability of old African-American spirituals to treat serious subjects in a clear, memorable, and almost joyful way. This is true even of weighty matters like sin and judgment. During early November we are focused on the four last things (death, judgment, Heaven, and hell) and November is also Black Catholic History Month. So, this seems like a good time to look at some of the creative lines from different spirituals that articulate these topics.
It can be very helpful to the preacher, teacher, and parent in recovering an ethos of coming judgment, but in a way that is almost playfully bright while at the same time deeply soulful.
In a certain sense, the spirituals are unimpeachable, even by hypersensitive post-moderns who seek to shame preachers for announcing sterner biblical themes. Most of the spirituals were written by slaves, who creatively worked biblical themes into these songs that helped accompany both their work and their worship.
The spirituals were written in the cauldron of great suffering. If any people might be excused from thinking that the Lord would exempt them from judgment day, it was surely the enslaved in the deep South. If any people might be excused from crying out for vengeance, it was they. Yet the spirituals are almost entirely devoid of condemning language; enslaved blacks sang in ways that looked also to their own sins and the need to be prepared. If they were prepared, God, who knew their trouble, would help them steal away to Jesus. They did not see themselves as exempt from the need to be ready.
If they, who worked hard in the cotton fields and endured the horrors of slavery, thought these texts applied to them, how much more do they apply to us, who recline on our couches and speak of our freedom to do as we please?
Here are some lines from a few of the many spirituals that speak to judgment and the last things:
I would not be a sinner, I’ll tell you the reason why. I’m afraid my Lord might call my name and I wouldn’t be ready to die.
Some go to Church for to sing and shout, before six months they’s all turned out!
Everybody talkin’ ’bout heaven ain’t a goin’ there, Oh my Lord!
Where shall I be when the first trumpet sounds? Oh where shall I be when it sounds so loud, when it sounds so loud as to wake up the dead? Oh where shall I be when it sounds? How will it be with my poor soul, Oh where shall I be?
Better watch my brother how you walk on the cross! Your foot might slip and your soul get lost!
God gave Noah the rainbow sign, no more water but the fire next time!
Old Satan wears a hypocrite’s shoe, If you don’t watch he’ll slip it on you!
Noah, Noah let me come in! The doors are fastened and the windows pinned! fastened an’ de winders pinned Noah said, “Ya lost your track Can’t plow straight! you keep a-lookin’ back!
Knock at the window knock at the door Callin’ brother Noah Can’t you take more? No said Noah cause you’re full of sin! God has the key you can’t get in!
Well I went to the rock to hide my face The rock cried out, no hiding place There’s no hiding place down here Oh the rock cried I’m burnin’ too! I wanna go to heaven just as much as you!
Oh sinner man better repent! Oh you’d better repent for God’s gonna call you to judgment There’s no hiding place down there!
No signal for another train To follow in this line Oh sinner you’re forever lost When once you’re left behind. She’s nearing now the station Oh, sinner don’t be vain But come and get your ticket Be ready for that train!
Sinner please don’t let this harvest pass And die and lose your soul at last.
My Lord, what a morning
When the stars begin to fall You’ll hear the trumpet sound, to wake the nations underground Looking to my God’s right hand, When the stars begin to fall
You’ll hear the sinner moan,
When the stars begin to fall You’ll hear the Christian shout, Oh, when the stars begin to fall!
Most of these songs are deeply scriptural and make serious appeals to the human soul, but they do so in a way that is creative. They get you tapping your foot and invite you to a joyful consideration of the need to repent before it’s too late. Others are more soulful, even mournful, in their pentatonic scale.
Given all the reluctance to discuss the four last things (death, judgment, Heaven, and Hell), songs like these may help to reopen the door to necessary conversations between preacher and congregation, parents and children. They are a valuable resource.
I’d like to conclude with a creative spiritual about the last judgment. Note that it is rich in biblical references. It is joyful—a real toe-tapper—and makes a serious point along with a wish.
In That Great Getting’ Up Mornin’ Fare You Well
I’m gonna tell ya ’bout da comin’ of da judgment Dere’s a better day a comin’, Fare thee well, fare thee well!
Chorus: In dat great gettin’ up mornin’, Fare thee well, fare thee well In dat great gettin’ up mornin’, Fare thee well, fare thee well
Oh preacher fold yo’ bible, For dat last souls converted, Fare thee well, fare thee well
Blow yo’ trumpet Gabriel, Lord, how loud shall I blow it? Blow it right and calm and easy,
Do not alarm all my people, Tell dem all come to da judgment, Fare thee well, fare thee well!
Do you see dem coffins burstin’, do you see dem folks is risin’ Do you see dat fork of lightnin’, Do you hear dat rumblin’ thunder? Fare thee well, fare thee well!
Do you see dem stars a fallin’, Do you see da world on fire? Fare thee well, fare thee well
Do you see dem Saints is risin’, Fare thee well, fare thee well See ’em marchin’ home for heaven, Fare thee well, fare thee well
Oh! Fare thee well poor sinners, fare thee well, fare thee well Fare thee well poor sinners, fare thee well, fare thee well!
Fr. Robert Kilner gives first blessings (J. Lippelmann 2017)
For priests, there is probably no request more common than this one: “Father, will you bless this?” Dozens of times per week we’re requested to bless a new rosary, statue or other religious article, or even a new car or home. We also get more personal requests: “Father, may I have your blessing?” Even in these secular times many of the unchurched and lukewarm still instinctively seek our blessings and prayers when they see us out in public, whether it’s at the airport or in the grocery store.
One might think, given the frequency of such requests, that we would have studied a good bit about the theology of blessings in seminary and would have been trained to make these brief pastoral moments more meaningful both for ourselves and for those to whom we minister—but such is not the case. I cannot remember a single thing being taught about the theology of blessings. Perhaps blessings were mentioned in passing when listing examples of sacramentals (objects, rituals, blessings, or events that are like sacraments in some sense but are not among the seven sacraments), but there was no elaboration of a theology of blessings.
Hence, many priests have a rather vague theological framework for one of the most frequent requests that we get. If we are not careful, we can treat such requests in a rather perfunctory way, waving our hands and saying a few holy words, barely realizing that we are using a priestly power that is often more appreciated by the faithful than by us. Something important is happening in a blessing and we priests do well to be more aware of what that is in order to avoid a kind of dubious rationalism or a superstitious excess.
A recent book by Msgr. Stephen J. Rossetti, The Priestly Blessing: Rediscovering the Gift, is most helpful in filling this gap in the training of most of us priests. It thoroughly develops a theological and pastoral framework for giving and receiving blessings. In a mere 150 pages, he surveys the biblical and ecclesial history of blessings and sets forth a theological, spiritual, and pastoral explanation of them. He explores the place of blessings in the incarnational aspects of the Catholic Faith, their purpose in sanctifying and restoring who and what was wounded in the fall of creation, and the roots and effects of blessings in the lives of the faithful. He also answers many practical questions such as these: Who can bless? Are hands to be extended, folded, or imposed? Are there some things that should not be blessed?
Msgr. Rossetti also explores the controversy that has emerged in the last fifty years among some theologians about the nature of blessings, how they are best conferred, and whether things should be blessed or only the people who use those things.
This debate among theologians reached the parishes in the late 1980s. The “Book of Blessings,” published in 1989, became controversial because it generally stopped short of using language or gestures that were associated with actually blessing the item. The new ritual book arrived from Rome without much explanation, and most of us who were priests at the time obediently sought to use it.
When someone requested the blessing of an object, we would dutifully open the new ritual and read the prayers. Puzzlement would often result when the prayers ended without a sign of the cross over the item and without traditional words specifically asking God to bless the item. Sometimes the faithful would ask, “Father, did you bless it?” They were instinctively looking for the traditional gesture of the extended hand moved in the sign of the cross with words such as these: “May almighty God bless this [item] in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”
The new Book of Blessings intentionally removed such things and spoke instead of asking God to bless the people who used this or that object or lived in this or that place. Without any explanation from Rome as to why traditional blessing formulas and gestures were eliminated, most of us priests either began to add the words and gesture back in or just quietly returned the Book of Blessings to the shelf and returned to using informal blessings or prayers from older books.
Msgr. Rossetti sets forth the theological views that underlie both the new and the old ritual books. He is fair in his presentation and explores why some in the past century have sought to adopt a different understanding of blessings. Were they involved in a correction of superstitious understandings? Did they over-correct? Is there a balance to be found in studying both views? And because the use of the older rituals is still permitted, does the debate even matter anymore?
Msgr. Rossetti takes the helpful approach of using the controversy to teach more deeply on the theology of blessings. I know that it has helped me in understanding that those who developed the modern Book of Blessings were not engaging in innovation for its own sake, nor were they being impious. Even for someone like me who strongly prefers the older Roman Ritual for blessings, the vision of the newer ritual is not without merit and can help prevent excesses and superstition. Msgr. Rossetti has provided a helpful contribution to the controversy and, while favoring the traditional gestures and the insight that things as well as people can be and are blessed, articulates the newer insights as well.
This is an excellent resource that should be required reading for all priests and be included in the curriculum of seminary formation. It is also readable and helpful for all of God’s people. It would make a good Christmas gift for any priest or deacon, filling what is likely a significant gap in their studies. Go, my brother priests, sell all you have and buy a copy! (Or, put it on your Christmas wish-list.) This priestly work is too important for us to be vague about it. As the subtitle suggests, rediscover the gift!
The Gospel for Tuesday of the 31st Week features the Lucan version of the parable about a man who gave a banquet. (In the Matthew version, Jesus refers to him as a king and I will refer to him that way in this post.) When all was ready, the servants were sent out to fetch the invited guests, many of whom made excuses:
The first said to him, ‘I have purchased a field and must go to examine it; I ask you, consider me excused.’ And another said, ‘I have purchased five yoke of oxenand am on my way to evaluate them; I ask you, consider me excused.’ And another said, ‘I have just married a woman and therefore I cannot come’ (Luke 14:18-20, see also Matthew 22:2).
None of the excuses is wrong or evil in itself. The guests weren’t excusing themselves to be able to consort with a prostitute, oppress the poor, or wage war. Each goes off to do something good. However, as the saying goes, “The good is the enemy of the best.” Oddly, the invited guests reject the rare opportunity to attend a banquet in favor of some good but lesser activity.
Their excuses illustrate well the disposition of many today who prefer the passing things of this world to the greater and lasting gifts of God and the things awaiting them in Heaven. While indifference and misplaced priorities have always been human problems, we in the modern age seem to exhibit them in greater abundance. This is likely an effect of having so many options and creature comforts available to us.
Indifference is a huge problem today. Though there are some people who resist, disbelieve, or even hate God, and others actively engaged in serious sins, there are even more who have simply fallen into indifference and drifted away from God and the things of Heaven. They veer off to the modern equivalent of examining their farms, evaluating their livestock, or spending time with their spouse: one goes off to detail his car, another goes shopping, yet another is off to a family function or even to work. If they think of God at all or of the invitation to attend Mass, they casually dismiss it because they have so many other things to do.
What makes this sort of rejection of God’s invitation so pernicious is that, as in the parable, most of these people don’t go off to do sinful things. Many today who live very secular lives, giving little or no thought to God, are very “nice” people. Many of them pay their taxes, love their families, and dedicate their time to any number of good causes. It is easy to look at their decision to skip Mass and conclude that it’s “no big deal.” Though they seem to have little time for God or for the things of God they are still “nice” people. Everything is fine because they don’t really mean to reject God or His invitation to holy things. Surely, they will be saved in the end. Or so we think.
The parable does not make this conclusion. Our thinking that everything is probably fine is at odds with the very words of Jesus. The parable teaches that their rejection has catastrophic consequences: they will not have no part in the banquet! For, I tell you, not one of those men who were invited will taste my dinner (Lk 14:24).
Their indifference to, and rejection of, the invitation has a lasting effect. At the end of the day you’re either at the banquet or you’re not. Being “nice” or going off to do good (but lesser) things doesn’t get you into the banquet. Accepting the invitation and entering by obedience to the summons of faith gets you in. Once in, there will be plenty of “nice” and good things to do, but you must obey the summons and enter by faith. That many today regard the summons lightly, preferring worldly things to the things of God is, as the parable teaches, very dangerous.
Let us study carefully the king’s reaction to the rejections by the invited guests, noting three things about the response. The text says,
Then the master of the house in a rage commanded his servant, ‘Go out quickly into the streets and alleys of the town and bring in here the poor and the crippled, the blind and the lame.’ The servant reported, ‘Sir, your orders have been carried out and still there is room.’ The master then ordered the servant, ‘Go out to the highways and hedgerows and make people come in that my home may be filled. For, I tell you, none of those men who were invited will taste my dinner’ (Luke 14:21-24)
1. Rage
The translation is vivid: the king is described as being in a “rage.” Scripture says, And without faith it is impossible to please God (Heb 11:6). Whoever believes in the Son has eternal life, but whoever rejects the Son will not see life, for God’s wrath remains on him (Jn 3:36).
We must be careful here to understand the implications of the Greek word that underlies this. The Greek word is ὀργίζω (orgizo), and while it can be properly translated as anger or rage, more deeply it expresses a “settled opposition” to injustice. The word does not describe God as being in an egocentric rage, as if he were some sort of a jilted lover. Rather, the anger comes from a settled, serene stance in which God does not (and cannot) adjust Himself to the vicissitudes of sinners or change Himself to placate them. God’s stance remains unchanged. It is our stance that changes and makes us come to experience His love as wrath.
The form of the verb used in the text underscores this reality. The verb form is an aorist, passive participle (ὀργισθεὶς (orgistheis)) best translated as “having been angered.” Thus, God does not change His principled stance of offered love; it is those who reject Him who change and experience His love as wrath. It is the result of human rejection that brings forth this experience. God’s settled, steadfast opposition to the human refusal of His love does not and cannot change. It is our rejection of His offer that puts us in opposition to Him, not an egotistical rage on His part. God unchanging desire is for His banquet hall to be filled.
2. Resolve
Having been rebuffed by some, the king merely intensifies his resolve to extend the invitation further until the hall is filled! He sends his servants out again and again; he will not stop calling until the full number of guests has been reached. Scripture says, Then [the martyrs] were each given a white robe and told to rest a little longer, until the number of their fellow servants and their brothers should be complete (Rev 6:11). For the whole creation hopes for and expects the full revelation of the sons of God (Rom 8:19). There is an old spiritual that says, “Oh, preacher, fold your Bible. For the last soul’s converted!”
God, who does not relent in His resolve or change His settled stance, continues to call until enough sinful, stubborn human beings repent and accept His invitation to the banquet.
3. Respect
The final line of the passage is telling. Although it sounds like a denunciation, it should be understood more deeply as a sign of respect. The king says, For, I tell you, none of those men who were invited will taste my dinner. At the end of the day, God will respect (though not approve of) the rejection of His invitation. God has made us free. He respects our freedom even if, in His settled opposition to sinful and harmful choices, He regrets our decisions. Scripture says, If we endure, we will also reign with Him; If we deny Him, He also will deny us (2 Tim 2:12). Yes, God will at some point either accept and ratify our denial of His offer or He will rejoice in our enduring yes. The decision is ours and it is one that will determine our destiny.
We in the Church must become more sober in our appreciation of what a parable like this teaches. We cannot allow ourselves to be carried away by the unbiblical notion that most people will be saved and that they can do so merely by being “nice.” There are lots of nice people in the world (however vaguely “nice” is defined). The more critical question is this: Do you want what God offers or do you prefer the world, with its offers rooted in the flesh or even in the devil?
There is a strange obtuseness to the human heart, which desires lesser things to greater ones, which is easily carried away by passing pleasures, which hates the discipline of the cross. We must recover an urgency in our evangelization that does not presume that most will “make it in” by some natural “goodness” or “niceness.” We need to draw everyone to the definitive yes that a parable like this teaches is necessary. Vague notions of universalism and of being pleasant, nice people cannot replace the biblical teaching of obedience to the summons to say yes to God’s Kingdom. Naïve and myopic notions cannot save God’s people or motivate vigorous and urgent evangelization. Only an obedience to God’s Word can do that. Presumption is a terrible thing and it stabs evangelization in the heart.
The teaching here is clear: we need a sober, consistent, urgent outreach to the many souls who prefer the secular to the sacred, the passing to the eternal, what is here to what is heavenly. Wishful thinking will not win any souls, only a sober seriousness rooted in God’s Word will do so.
The music in this video I prepared is by Fiocco and the text is this: Homo quidam fecit coenam magnam, et misit servum suum hora coenae dicere invitatis ut venirent: Quia parata sunt omnia. (A certain man made a great banquet and sent his servants at the hour of the feast to say to the invited that they should come: because everything is prepared.)
St. Charles Borromeo, by Orazio BorgianniSunday was the feast day of my patron saint, Charles Borromeo. The times in which he lived were not so different from the current ones, and leadership like his is sorely needed today. Although I am not a bishop as he was, I am a pastor. I pray that in some small way I may be like him.
St. Charles Borromeo was born in 1538, a time when the Church was in the midst of perhaps her greatest crisis. Martin Luther had begun his revolt in 1522 with the publication of his 95 Theses. In the aftermath of the Protestant revolt, some 12 million Europeans (a very large number for those days) left the Church; more would follow in successive waves.
The medieval Church was breaking up and suffering schism. Indeed, the whole medieval synthesis of Christendom was in turmoil, hopelessly intertwined with politics and intrigue both within the Church and outside.
The clergy especially were in crisis and in tremendous need of reform. It was an era of absentee bishops and clergy. Wealthy European families collected parishes, monasteries, and other benefices more as a kind of stock portfolio than out of any spiritual love or interest. It was common that benefices were given to the sons in these families. Although ordained as priests, they seldom served as such, instead farming out the pastoral duties of their many parishes (and even dioceses) to other priests (often poorly trained ones). Knowledge of Latin, Scripture, and indeed the Lord Himself, was notably absent in many of these “clergy for hire.” Preaching was poor, the moral life of the clergy was degraded, and the faithful had little leadership. In this climate it is no wonder that Luther and other so-called reformers were so easily able to attract large numbers of the laity, who were not only poorly served but poorly catechized.
The Council of Trent – Recognizing the criticality of the revolts (by Luther and others) and her own need for internal reform, the Church summoned the Council of Trent, which met sporadically between 1545 and 1563.
Into this period of crisis for both Europe and the Church, St. Charles Borromeo was born. He was the third of six children in a noble family in Milan. His parents were pious and well known for their care of the poor. Their sober and religious demeanor goes a long way toward explaining the piety and appetite for reform that St. Charles would later develop.
Reform starts at home. The wealthy and prominent Borromeo family was well woven into the difficulties and problems of the late medieval Church, owning many ecclesiastical benefices. At a very young age Charles Borromeo was given a large and wealthy Benedictine abbey by his uncle, Julius Caesar Borromeo. So, at the tender age of 12, Charles Borromeo found himself the abbot of a large monastery. His age and the fact that he was not even an ordained priest are representative of the serious abuses that were common at the time.
Despite these impediments, St. Charles showed an inclination toward reform. He specified that the income he received from the abbey should be only enough to support his education, with the sizeable remainder given to the poor. Further, he promoted reform at the monastery by insisting on a return to a purer monastic environment.
At the age of 16, he was sent to Pavia to study Canon Law. Although he found his studies difficult, he was noted for his piety, his refusal to indulge in the frivolities of university life, and his devotion to the rosary and private prayer. He even dismissed two of his tutors (both of them priests) because he considered them too secular, found them lax in saying their Office, and objected to the fact that they did not wear clerical attire.
Papal Secretary of State at the age of 22! Just after Charles completed his studies, Pope Pius IV was elected. The new pope was Charles’ uncle, and as a gift to his nephew, he summoned him to Rome to become his Secretary of State. So, at the age of 22, although only a sub-deacon not a priest, Charles Borromeo became the Secretary of State at the Vatican and personal assistant to the pope and was named a cardinal deacon. It is a bit ironic that all this was technically a result of nepotism because Charles would become one of the leading proponents of Church reform.
Perhaps his chief work (under the direction of Pope Pius IV) was to reconvene the Council of Trent, which had been suspended due to war. After many months of difficult negotiation and political intrigue, the Council reconvened in 1561. Charles Borromeo not only coordinated the activities of the Council sessions but also engaged in many delicate negotiations as the Pope’s personal representative. He had to work carefully to overcome the differences among certain delegates. The Council of Trent finally concluded in December of 1563, just prior to the death of Pope Pius IV.
The importance of the Council of Trent cannot be overstated. Its decrees rejuvenated the huge and complex medieval Church and would serve as a guiding light for the next four centuries. Then, as now, the decrees of a council are not always welcomed, understood, or well applied. The work of Charles Borromeo was just beginning.
St. Charles lost no time in applying the decrees of the Council wherever his authority extended.
The next step for Cardinal Borromeo was to have a catechism written and published. He appointed three Dominican theologians to work under his supervision and the Catechism of the Council of Trent was completed within a year. He then ordered it translated into the vernacular in order that it be taught to the faithful by all pastors. Charles also set to work founding seminaries and colleges for the clergy, who were woefully undertrained.
St. Charles was also involved in implementing liturgical norms and even took a hand at reforming the music, encouraging the development of sacred polyphony. It needed a guiding hand to ensure that it did not become too florid and that the sacred text did not become buried in musical flourish and performance. In this matter he worked closely with Palestrina.
Time to get personal – Having used his position of influence in Rome to help implement the Council, he now petitioned Pope Pius V that he might implement it in his own life, for although the Pope had named him Cardinal Archbishop of Milan, he had been an absentee bishop, remaining in Rome as papal Secretary of State. Such absenteeism was common at the time, as already noted. In fact, it was rare in the larger cosmopolitan dioceses that the bishop would be present at all. These larger dioceses were usually benefices for rich families whose sons merely collected the income and did not actually serve in any pastoral capacity. Dioceses were usually administered by underlings.
It does not take much to understand why abuses flourished under this system. With no actual resident bishop, no true shepherd in place, errors went unaddressed and corruption abounded.
After some months of negotiation with the new pope, Pius V (who was resistant to the idea), St. Charles was finally permitted to take up residence in his diocese of Milan. He went with great eagerness to implement the reforms of the Council of Trent. He called several local councils of the Church there and set up seminaries for the training of clergy. Charles insisted that priests be present in, and minister to, their own parishes. He also established the Confraternity for Christian Doctrine (CCD) for the training of children in the faith, enrolling some 40,000 children in the first few years. He set about visiting every parish in his archdiocese, even the small ones up in the remote alpine regions.
Not everyone appreciated the reforms Charles sought to institute. Some of the greatest resistance came from his own clergy and monks, one of whom pulled out a gun and shot him at Vespers (luckily, the bullet only grazed him)! Despite the resistance, St. Charles began many successful reforms in the Church at Milan. These reforms centered on the liturgy; the life, training, and discipline of the clergy; and the training of the laity in the ways of faith.
St. Charles Borromeo died at the age of 46, in the early hours of November 4, 1584. He had been on his way to visit a parish in the Alps and was stricken with a high fever. I have written more about him here: St Charles Borromeo.
As can be seen, St. Charles lived during difficult times for the Church. Millions had left and corruption abounded in what remained. Many people would have despaired in the face of so many deep problems. Indeed, many would have wondered how the Church could ever recover from such losses in numbers and regain her capacity to preach the Gospel and reach the faithful.
It goes without saying that the Church is crisis today. Millions have left the Church. Confusion among the faithful and the clergy abounds. Many of the faithful are poorly catechized. There have been grave moral, spiritual, and leadership issues among the clergy.
Yet as the example of St. Charles shows, reformers can and do make a lasting difference. Changes for the better may come slowly, but they eventually do come. Pray for zealous pastors and reformers like St. Charles Borromeo.
God still has His saints, His reformers, His St. Charles Borromeos. Many of them are already known to us and many more are yet to come. But come they will, for God will reform, establish, and cause to flourish the Church He so loves.
Hillel the Elder, sometimes referred to as Rabbi Hillel, was a Jewish religious leader who lived shortly before Jesus’ time. There is a famous story told of him in which he was challenged by a potential convert to teach him the entire Torah while “standing on one foot.” In other words, can you distill the essence and present it succinctly?
That same theme may be behind the question that is raised today by the scholar of law, who asks, “Which is the first of all the commandments?”
In answering while “standing on foot,” Jesus recites the traditional Jewish Shema:
שְׁמַע יִשְׂרָאֵל יְהוָה אֱלֹהֵינוּ יְהוָה אֶחָד.
Šĕmaʿ Yisĕrāʾel Ădōnāy Ĕlōhênû Ădōnāy eḥād. Hear, O Israel,The Lord our God is Lord alone!
The fuller text Jesus cites is from Deuteronomy:
Hear, O Israel! The Lord our God is Lord alone! You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart,with all your soul,with all your mind,and with all your strength. Take to heart these words which I enjoin on you today (Deut 6:4-6).
Jesus then adds, also in common Rabbinic tradition, The second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. The whole law and the prophets depend on these two commandments.
Do not miss the point that the discussion of the greatest “law” centers on the word “love.” Most of us miss this connection between the law and love.
Particularly in Western culture, we tend to put love and law just about as far apart from each other as any two things can be. For us, the law is about police officers and courtrooms, about forcing people to do things under threat of some penalty. Love, on the other hand, is about doing things willingly, because we want to rather than because we have to.
As Jesus insists and the ancient Jewish Shema articulates, love and law are in fact together; the law is an articulation of love.
Consider that a man who really loves his wife does not need a law to tell him that he may not physically or verbally abuse her but rather must support, protect, and encourage her. Nevertheless, though he may not need the existence of the law in writing, he is in fact following the law of love when he observes these and other norms. There is a language of love, a law of love, an outworking of love’s works and fruits. In the end, love does what love is, and love is supportive, enthusiastic, even extravagant in keeping its own norms and laws. Love does what love is.
Thus, when asked about the law the Lord just says that we should love. Yes, love God passionately, with your whole heart, soul, and strength. As you do this, you will love what and whom He loves, for this is the natural fruit of love. The more one loves God, the more one begins to love His laws, His vision, what He values. Yes, all the commandments flow from loving God. Real love has its roots; it has its laws, methods, and modes.
Here, then, is the whole law, standing on one foot: love God. Let His love permeate you completely and every other commandment will implicitly flow from this love.
When we love God, we stop asking unloving questions like these:
Do I have to pray? For how long? Do I have to go to confession? How often? Do I have to go to Mass? How often? Where can I find the shortest and most convenient one? Do I have to read God’s Word? Do I have to make God’s teachings the priority of my life, overruling all else? Do I need to honor and care for my parents? Do I need to respect lawful authority and contribute to the common good? Do I need to respect life from conception to natural death? Do I need to work to cherish and safeguard the lives of others? Do I need to live chastely, reverencing the gift of sexuality that is at the heart of human life and family?
Love does not ask whether we must respect each other enough to speak the truth in love, to be men and women of our word. It does not wonder whether it is acceptable to steal from others or to fail to give them what is justly due. It does not wonder whether we should be generous to the poor rather than greedy, or whether to be appreciative and satisfied rather than covetous.
No, love does not ask questions like these, for it already knows the answer; it lives the answer.
Love is the law, standing on one foot, and all the rest is commentary.
God is merciful and does supply the commentary: in His Scriptures and in the vast Tradition of the Church. Praise God for it all.
The saints say, “If God wants it then I want it. If God doesn’t want it then I don’t want it.” Is that the way most of us talk? Is that the way most of us talk? Many of us are heard to say, “How come I can’t have it? It’s not so bad; everyone else has it.” That doesn’t really sound like lovers talking does it? Somehow the saints knew the law of God and could say it standing on one foot. How about us?
All the commentary is nice, and surely needed, but don’t miss the point: You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart,with all your soul,with all your mind,and with all your strength, and your neighbor as yourself.
There’s something interesting about the love between brothers and the way in which they show it. There’s a combination of competitiveness and deep love: “I get to hassle you, but no one else had better do that!”
In the video below, although the older boy continually reminds his younger brother who’s in charge, there’s actually some underlying respect in his actions. It’s as if he’s saying, “I know you can take it. I’m just trying to prepare you for life. There’s always going to be someone bigger and stronger than you are, so stay humble!”
When someone else torments the younger boy, however, the older brother steps in. Without uttering a word, he conveys this message: “I’ve always got your back.”
At times, Jesus was pretty tough on His Apostles, but I suspect the situation wasn’t so far removed from what this video shows. Jesus was saying, “I’m getting you ready for something that you can’t handle right now. And remember, I’ve always got your back” (see John 16:12 and Mat 28:20).
What is the value of one prayer? I suspect it is far greater than any of us imagine. Prayer changes things, sometimes in obvious ways, but more often in subtle and even paradoxical ways. But prayer is surely important, even when we don’t experience its immediate effects. Perhaps this is why Jesus taught us to pray always and never to lose heart (cf. Luke 18:1). St. Paul echoed this with the simple exhortation, “Pray without ceasing” (1 Thess 5:17). St. James also warned, “You have not because you ask not” (James 4:2).
Praying for the living is a great and wondrous spiritual work of mercy; its value is beyond that of gold or pearls. What is the value of one prayer? The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man is powerful in in its effects (James 5:16). Prayer can avert war, bring healing, cause conversion, bestow peace and serenity, and call down mercy—sweet, necessary, and beautiful mercy. Prayer is a treasure of inestimable value.
Perhaps one of the greatest joys of Heaven will be seeing how much of a difference our prayers made, even the distracted and perfunctory ones. Maybe our simple utterance at the end of a decade of the rosary to “Save us from the fires of Hell” and to “Lead all souls to Heaven” will reach the heart of one lost soul, prompting him to answer the gentle call of God to return. Imagine that in Heaven that very sinner comes up to you and says, “Though we never met, your prayer reached me and God applied His power to me.” Imagine the joy of many such meetings in Heaven. Imagine, too, whom you will joyfully thank for their prayers, people you know and some you never met. But they prayed and the power of their prayers reached you.
While the value of praying for the living is not widely disputed, praying for the dead is a spiritual work of mercy that has suffered in recent decades. Too many Catholics today “miss a step” when a loved one dies. There are often immediate declarations that the deceased is “in Heaven” or “in a better place.” But Scripture doesn’t say that we go right to Heaven when we die. No, indeed. First, there is a brief stopover at the judgment seat of Christ.
The Letter to the Hebrews says, It is appointed for men to die once and after this comes judgment (Heb 9:27). St. Paul writes, For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each of us may receive what is due us for the things done while in the body, whether good or bad (2 Cor 5:10).
Our deceased loved ones go to the judgment seat of Christ, and that is worth praying about!
What is the judgment for those who lived faithful lives? In such cases, the judgment is not merely about the ultimate destination of Heaven or Hell. The judgment would seem to be “Is My work in you complete?”
Indeed, the Lord has made all of us a promise:You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect (Mat 5:48). Such a beautiful promise! Yet most of us know that we are not in such a state now. If we were to die today it is clear that much work would still be required. Thus when we send our faithful loved ones to judgment, although we send them with hope, we are aware that finishing work may be necessary. Purgation and purification are necessary before entering Heaven, of which scripture says, Nothing impure will ever enter it (Rev 21:27).
Again, this is worth praying about. It is a great work of mercy we can extend to our deceased loved ones, to remember them with love and to pray, in the words of St. Paul, May God who has begun a good work in you bring it to completion (Phil 1:6). Pray often for the souls in Purgatory. Surely there are joys there for them, knowing that they are on their way to Heaven, but there are also sufferings that purgation must cause. St. Paul says of Purgatory, Each one’s work will become manifest, for the Day will disclose it, because it will be revealed by fire, and the fire will test what sort of work each one has done. If the work that anyone has built on the foundation survives, he will receive a reward. If anyone’s work is burned up, he will suffer loss, though he himself will be saved, but only as through fire (1 Cor 3:13-15). Yes, there is fire, but thank God it is a healing fire. There are tears, too, for Scripture says (regarding the dead) that Jesus will wipe every tear from their eyes (Rev 21:4).
How consoling and merciful our prayers must seem to our beloved who have died! Our prayers must seem like a gentle wind that speeds them along, onward and upward toward Heaven!
Praying for the dead, then, is the last and greatest spiritual work of mercy. By the grace of it, and through its help, souls attain the glory God has prepared for them from the foundation of the world.
There is a notion that ushering in reform or change requires large numbers, majority percentages, and the like, but a passage from the First Book of Maccabees reminds us that Heaven’s math is not always ours:
