I, like you, have read with interest the reactions of many to the new translation, after its first week of use. Most of the remarks I have read are quite positive. A smaller, though not insignificant number, are negative, some strikingly so. No need to summarize all the remarks here. I am personally a big fan of the new translation and have carefully and joyfully prepared my congregation for it. Our first Sunday went off without a hitch.
There is one strain of negative reaction I would like to address however, since it goes to the heart of a common misunderstanding of the Liturgy. The negative reaction basically stated is:
I can’t easily understand what Father is saying in those long, run-on sentences. It doesn’t make sense to me and I get lost in all the words.
It is a true fact that the new translation preserves more authentically the sentence structure of the Latin original which, like older English, makes greater use of subordinate clauses. For example, consider the prayer from the first Monday of Advent with subordinate clauses indented,
Keep us alert,
we pray, O Lord our God,
as we await the advent of Christ your Son,
so that,
when he comes and knocks,
he may find us watchful in prayer and exultant in his praise.
This manner of speaking is more formal and ancient.
The just abrogated translation of 1970 turned the rich sentence structure of the Latin prayers into a series of declarative statements:
Lord our God,
help us to prepare for the coming of Christ your Son.
May he find us waiting,
eager in joyful prayer.
Not only is the language less elaborate and more informal, it also omits the humbly beseeching quality of the Latin, and wholly omits the Scriptural allusion of Jesus standing at the door and knocking (cf Rev 3:20)
Now, if the priest who recites or sings the prayer is careful with the commas, and alters his tone of voice properly, the new translation is quite intelligible, and also quite beautiful. My own mind lit up as I recited the new prayer above, this morning.
That said, it may still be harder for some in the pew to attend the words of the priest, even if it is well spoken, since the use of sentences with subordinate clauses requires the listener to hold one thought, while a subordinate thought is articulated, and then the speaker branches back to the main thought.
So lets grant that it is a little harder.
But here we come to an important insight that, though it is not politically correct, is still true: The priest is not talking to you. He is not directing the prayer to you, and the first purpose of the prayer is not that you understand it perfectly. The prayer is directed to God, (most often, to God the Father). The priest is speaking to God, and is doing so on your behalf, and that of the whole Church. And God is wholly able to understand the prayer, no matter how complicated its structure.
Too often in modern times we have very anthropocentric (man-centered) notions of the Sacred Liturgy. With the return to the vernacular, and mass celebrated toward the people, (neither intrinsically wrong), there is often the wrongful conclusion that the Liturgy is about us, the gathered assembly. Surely there are aspects celebrated on our behalf and for our benefit, especially the Liturgy of the Word and the reception of Holy Communion, but the prayers of the Sacred Liturgy are addressed to and focused on God.
When we understand God as the addressee, the notion of “formalism” in the texts we use makes more sense. One may reasonably argue that, in private prayer, simple and personal words from the heart are most appropriate. But in the Sacred Liturgy, which is both communal and where the words are carefully chosen in accord with ancient practice, nobility and a stately seriousness are important and instinctive. It is God to whom we speak, and our language down through the centuries, in the liturgical context, has been courtly, rich and marked with a sobriety and elevated quality. While this notion was largely set aside in 1970, it has been recovered now.
If the text is less immediately understandable (it need not be) to the human listeners, it must be recalled that we are not the first or intended audience, God is.
Surely intelligibility to the average “pew sitter” is not wholly unimportant, for the Liturgy has a critical teaching role (lex orandi, lex credendi). Further, if the faithful are to join their prayers to that of the celebrant, some degree of intelligibility is helpful. But, frankly, it is not essential. Otherwise the faithful could not validly attend Mass in foreign lands, and the Mass could not be offered in Latin. Likewise young children would be excluded, since many of even the simplest words mean little to them. Full participation in the liturgy is deeper than mere auditory comprehension.
So the central point here is that God is the one to whom our liturgical prayers are directed. This is often forgotten today, and the complaint that the new prayers are “harder to understand” (they are not intrinsically so) belies a premise that “my personal understanding” is the central point. It is not.
I can hear a thousand “yes, but” s coming in the combox. And many of these will be quite valid. Distinctions are important, as is balance.
Intelligibility, while not the most important thing, IS important. And hence, we priests who celebrate the Mass using the new texts, need to work carefully to master the texts so that what we say is not lost in an ungraceful and stumbling proclamation. God and God’s people deserve our best effort.
There are some contexts where intelligibility is absolutely critical. Here is one of my favorite Berlitz commercials that illustrates a critical failure to communicate:
I sink zey are sinking about making za person sink zey are sinking.
Outside, there is a great drama of light and darkness is unfolding before us. The light is giving way to darkness.
Here in the Northern Hemisphere the days are getting very short just now. And they’re going to get even shorter. In Washington DC, where I live, it is dark by 5pm. On cloudy days it is almost dark by 4pm. My brothers both live further north, one in St. Paul the other in Seattle. It’s dark even earlier there.
An old expression (probably by Yogi Berra) goes, “It’s getting late very early out there.”
For us, who live in modern times of electricity, the drama is less obvious, little more than an annoyance as we switch on more lights.
But think of those who lived not long before us, in a time before abundant electrical lights. Perhaps it was possible to huddle near a candle or fire, but in the end, the darkness put a real stop to most things. Neither work, nor reading, nor most forms of recreation could take place. Darkness was a significant factor.
Recently, in a widespread power outage, I was struck at just how really dark it was outside at night without the streetlights and lights from homes. Frankly it was hard to venture out. Bearings were quickly lost and I stumbled over simple things like a curb or fence post. We moderns just aren’t used to this.
Once I toured Luray Caverns in the nearby Shenandoah Mountains. At the bottom of the caverns hundreds of feet down they gathered us near the center of a large cave and shut off the lights. The darkness was overwhelming. It was almost a physical feeling. I felt a wave of slight panic sweep through me and was so relieved when the lights came back on. Is this what it is like to be blind? Light is very precious.
And so, here in a “deep and dark December,” the light continues to recede. The spiritual impact of this drama of light is brought into the Church. Our hymns turn to images of light. The darker it gets, the more candles we light on the Advent wreath. In the darkest moments of December our Advent wreath is at its brightest. As Scripture says, The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it….The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world. (John 1:5, 9). And old prayer says, Within our darkest night you kindle a fire that never dies away.
As the drama of light outside continues, December 21 and 22nd are the shortest, darkest days of the year. By December 23rd, the ancients noticed a slight return of the Light. Now the morning star heralds something new, something brighter.
People, look east. The time is near
Of the crowning of the year.
Make your house fair as you are able,
Trim the hearth and set the table.
People, look east and sing today:
Love, the guest, is on the way.
And then, on December 24th, in the deep center of one of the the longest nights, the liturgy of Christmas begins, Christ is born and on December 25th a new light shines. From then on, the days get longer.
Yes, a great drama of light is unfolding before us. It is Advent. It is time to recognize our need for the light and just how precious Jesus, the light of the world is. Ponder in these darkest days the beauty of the light.
Consider too the theme of light in many of the Advent songs we sing. Here are few excerpts, mostly from Old Latin Hymns:
From Veni, Veni, Emmanuel:
O come, thou Dayspring from on high,
And cheer us by thy drawing nigh:
Disperse the gloomy cloud of night
And death’s dark shadow put to flight
Rejoice, rejoice Emmanuel,
Shall come to thee O Israel.
From the German Hymn Wachet auf:
Wake, awake, for night is flying;
The watchmen on the heights are crying:
Awake, Jerusalem, at last!
Midnight hears the welcome voices
And at the thrilling cry rejoices;
Come forth, ye virgins, night is past;
The Bridegroom comes, awake;
Your lamps with gladness take;
Alleluia! And for His marriage feast prepare
For ye must go and meet Him there.
From Conditor Alme Siderum
Creator of the stars of night,
Thy people’s everlasting light
Oh Christ, thou savior of us all,
We pray thee hear us when we call
From Vox Clara ecce intonat:
Hark! a thrilling voice is sounding;
“Christ is nigh,” it seems to say,
“Cast away the works of darkness,
O ye children of the day.”
Wakened by the solemn warning
Let the earthbound soul arise;
Christ, her Sun, all ill dispelling,
Shines upon the morning skies.
From the Liturgy of St. James, 4th Century (Σιγησάτο παρα σὰρξ βροτεία):
Rank on rank the host of heaven
Spreads its vanguard on the way,
As the Light of light descendeth
From the realms of endless day,
That the powers of hell may vanish
As the darkness clears away.
From Veni Redemptor Gentium:
Thy cradle here shall glitter bright,
And darkness breathe a newer light,
Where endless faith shall shine serene,
And twilight never intervene
Enjoy this Advent and watch for the Light, it will surely come
The Gospel today surely announces a critical Advent theme: Watch! And while I want to comment primarily on the Reading from Isaiah, the Gospel admonition surely deserves some attention as well.
For it is too often the case that many today hold the unbiblical notion that most, if not all, are going to heaven. But for four weeks now we have been reading gospels wherein the Lord Jesus warns us that some (perhaps many, possibly even most) are not heading for heaven. There are wise and foolish virgins, industrious and lazy servants, sheep and goats, and today, those who keep watch and those who do not.
And though many today like to brush aside the teachings on judgment, or teachings that some are lost, to those who do, and to all, Jesus says, Watch! In other words, watch out, be serious, sober and prepared for death and judgment. Realize that your choices are leading somewhere.
Some have tried to tame and domesticate Jesus, but it is not the fake Jesus they have reinvented that they will meet, it is the real Jesus, the Jesus who warns repeatedly of the reality of judgment and the strong possibility of Hell. At the beginning of Advent we do well to heed Jesus’ admonition and realize our need to be saved.
And that leads to the first reading from Isaiah which rather thoroughly sets forth our need for a savior. Isaiah distinguishes five ailments which beset us, and from which we need rescue. We are: drifting, demanding, depraved, disaffected and depressed. But in the end Isaiah reminds us of our dignity. Lets look at each in turn.
1. Drifting – The text says, Why [O Lord] do you let us wander from your ways, and harden our hearts so that we fear you not? Return for the sake of your servants, the tribes of your heritage.
It is a common human tendency that we wander, or drift. It is a rarer thing that most people, in one moment, reject God, especially if they were raised with some faith. Rather, what usually happens is that we just drift away, wander off course. It is like the captain or pilot of a boat who stops paying close attention. Soon enough the boat is farther and farther off course. At first things are not noticed, but the cumulative effect is that the boat is now headed in the wrong direction. He did not suddenly turn the helm and shift 180 degrees, he just stopped paying attention and drifted, and drifted some more.
And so it is with some of us who may wonder how we got so far off course. I talk with many people who have left the Church, and so many of them cannot point to an incident or moment when they walked out of Church and said, “I’ll never come back here.” It is usually just that they drifted away, fell away, from the practice of the faith. They missed a Sunday here or there, and little by little, missing Mass became the norm. Maybe they moved to a new city and never got around to finding a parish. They just got disconnected and drifted.
Funny thing about drifting, the further off course you get, the harder it is to get back on course. It just seems increasingly monumental to make the changes necessary to get back on track. Thus Isaiah speaks of the heart of a drifter becoming hardened. Our bad habits become “hard” to break, and as God seems more and more distant, we lose our holy fear and reverence for Him.
Interesting how, in taking up our voice, Isaiah, “blames” God for it all. Somehow it is “His fault” for letting us wander for he lets us do it.
It is true that God has made us free and that he is very serious about respecting our freedom. How else could we love God, if we were not free. Compelled love is not love at all.
But what Isaiah is really getting at is that some of us are so far afield, so lost, that only God can find us and save us. And so we must depend on God being like a Shepherd who seeks his lost sheep.
Thus, here is the first way that Isaiah sets forth our need for a Savior. And so in Advent, reflecting this way, the Church cries out, Come Emmanuel, Come Lord Jesus! Seek and find us for many of us are drifting.
2. Demanding – The text says, Oh, that you would rend the heavens and come down, with the mountains quaking before you, while you wrought awesome deeds we could not hope for, such as they had not heard of from of old. No ear has ever heard, no eye ever seen, any God but you doing such deeds for those who wait for him.
There is a human tendency to demand signs and wonders. Our flesh demands to see. And when we do not see, in a fleshly sort of way, we are dismissive, even scoffing.
This human tendency has reached a peak in our modern times when so many reject faith because it does not meet the demands of empirical science and a materialist age. If something is not physical and measurable by some human instrument, many rejects its very existence. Never mind that many things that are very real (e.g. justice, or fear) cannot be measured on an atomic scale. What most moderns are really about doing is more specific: rejecting is God and the demands of faith. “Since we cannot see him with our eyes, he is not there and thus, we may do as we please.”
Isaiah gives voice to the human demand to see on our own terms. We demand signs and wonders, and then we will believe. It is almost as though we are saying to God, “Force me to believe in you” or “Make everything so certain that I don’t really have to walk by faith.”
Many of us look back to the miracles of the scriptures and think, “If I saw that, I would believe.” But faith is not so simple. For many who did see miracles (e.g. the Hebrew people in the desert), saw but still gave way to doubt. Many who saw Jesus work miracles, fled at the first sign of trouble or when he said something that displeased them.
Our flesh demands to see. But, in the end, even after seeing it usually refuses to believe.
Further, God does not usually do the “biggie-wow” things to overwhelm us. Satan does overwhelm us. But God is a quiet and persistent lover who respectfully and delicately works in us, if we let him. It is Satan who roars at us with temptation, fear, and sheer volume, so that we are distracted and confused. God more often is that still, small voice speaking in the depth of our heart.
Thus the Lord, speaking through Isaiah, warns us of this second ailment, the demand for signs and wonders. Our rebellious flesh pouts and draws back in resentful rebellion.
Thus our need for a Savior, to give us a new heart and mind, attuned to the small still voice of God in a strident world. And so in Advent, reflecting thus, the Church cries our, Come Emmanuel, Come Lord Jesus! Calm our souls and lets us find you in the daily and small things.
3. Depraved – The text says, Would that you might meet us doing right, that we were mindful of you in our ways! Behold, you are angry, and we are sinful; all of us have become like unclean people.
The word depraved comes from the Latin pravitas, meaning crooked or deformed. It means to be lacking what we ought to have. Hence, the Lord though Isaiah here describes our deformed state in the following ways. We are:
A. Unthinking – the text says that we are “unmindful” of God. Indeed our minds are very weak and we can go for long periods, so turned in on ourselves, that we barely, if ever, think of God. Our thoughts are wholly focused on things that are passing, and almost wholly forgetful of God and heaven which remain forever. It is so easy for our senseless minds to be darkened. Our culture too has “kicked God to the curb” and thus there are even fewer reminders of Him than in previous generations. We desperately need God to save us and give us new minds. Come Lord Jesus!
B. Unhappy – the text says of God “You are angry.” But, biblically we need to remember that the “wrath of God” is more in us, than in God. God’s anger is his passion to set things right. But God is not moody or prone to egotistical rage. More often than not, it is we who project our own unhappiness and anger on God. The “Wrath of God” is our experience of the total incompatibility of our sinful state before the holiness of God. God does not loose his temper, or fly into a rage, he does not lose his serenity. It is we who are unhappy, angry, egotistical, scornful etc. We need God to give us a new heart. Come Lord Jesus!
C. Undistinguished – the text says, we are sinful; all of us have become like unclean people. We are called to be holy, that is, “set apart” and distinguished from the sinful world around us. But too often we are indistinguishable. We do not shine forth like a light in the darkness, we seem little different than the pagan world around us. We divorce, fornicate, fail to forgive, support abortion, contraception, fail the poor, etc., in numbers akin to secular people who know not God. We do not seem joyful, serene or alive. We just look like “everybody else.” And we seem to have as our main goal to “fit in” and be like everyone. Save us O Lord from our mediocrity and fear. Come Lord Jesus!
4. Disaffected – The text says, There is none who calls upon your name, who rouses himself to cling to you; for you have hidden your face from us and have delivered us up to our guilt.
In other words we, collectively speaking, have no passion for God. We get all worked up about politics, sports, the lottery, a T.V. show, etc. But when it comes to God, many can barely rouse themselves to pray, go to Church, or read scripture. We find time for everything else, but God can wait.
Here too Isaiah gives voice to the human tendency to blame God, for he says (i.e. we say) God has hidden his face. But God has not moved. If you can’t see God, guess who turned away? If you’re not as close to God as you used to be, guess who moved?
Our heart and our priorities are messed up. We need a savior to give us a new heart, a greater love and better priorities and desires. Come Lord Jesus!
5. Depressed – The text says, All our good deeds are like polluted rags; we have all withered like leaves, and our guilt carries us away like the wind.
One of the definitions of depression is anger turned inward. And while Isaiah has given voice to our tendency to direct anger and blame at God, here he gives voice to our other tendency, to turn on ourselves.
Thus, our good deeds are described like polluted rags. It may be true that they are less than they could be, but calling them polluted rags is the kind of exaggeration that bespeaks a frustration with our seemingly hopeless situation, and addiction to sin and injustice.
Ultimately the devil wants us to diminish what little good we can find in ourselves and to lock us into a depressed and angry state. If there were no good in us at all, why bother?
There is such a thing as unhealthy guilt and a self loathing that is not of God, but from the devil, our accuser. It may well be this that Isaiah articulates here. And from such depressed self loathing (masquerading as piety) we need a savior. Come Lord Jesus!
And so the cry has gone up: Come Lord Jesus, save us, Savior of the world! We need a savior, and Advent is a time to mediate on our need.
But Isaiah ends on a final note and the song goes from D minor to D Major. And the final Note is our
Dignity – the text says, Yet, O LORD, you are our father; we are the clay and you the potter: we are all the work of your hands.
Yes, we are a mess, but a loveable mess. And God has so loved us, as to send his Son, who is not ashamed to call us his brethren.
We are not forsaken, and in Advent we call upon a Father who loves us. And our cry, Come Lord Jesus is heard and heeded by the Father, who loves us and is fashioning us into his very image. God is able and he will fix and fashion us well. Help is on the way!
Here’s a magnificent Advent Hymn that so beautifully expresses the longing of the Church for her savior to come. The second verse says:
Zion hears the watchmen shouting,
Her hearts leaps up with joy undoubting!
She stands and waits with eager eyes.
See! Her Love from heaven descending,
Adorned with grace and truth unending.
Her light burns clear her star doth rise!
Now come our precious Crown,
Lord Jesus, God’s own Son
Hosanna!
The video at the bottom of this post is a fascinating little exploration of the traditional habit of Religious Sisters. The video does not make it clear as to what Order the Habit belonged. There are many things I learned about a habit I never knew. Things like hidden “saddle bag” pockets, opening crucifixes, symbolism in the pleats, and the purpose of the outer veil. I hope you’ll take time an view a fascinating video.
Sadly, the sister who recounts the hidden and beautiful secrets of the habit does not herself wear one any longer. The abandonment of the habit by many orders has always puzzled me. Recent Popes have requested that priests and religious wear their distinctive garb. Further, I think any survey of the people of God would indicate an overwhelming preference that priests and religious wear a distinctive garb or habit. Lastly, from the standpoint of vocations it would seem that any order that has set aside the habit is doomed to eventual extinction. It is clear that the orders that preserve the wearing of the habit along with common life, common prayer, and a focused apostolate are doing better, some quite well, with vocations. Orders that have set aside the habit are largely dying out. It is not the habit alone, I am sure, but the habit (or lack thereof) does signify something important about the health of the religious community.
What is the purpose of a religious habit? Religious life is not hidden, neither is it occasional. To enter the priesthood or religious life is to publicly accept the consecration of one’s whole self to the service of God and neighbor. That is why the most traditional religious garb covers the whole body. It is more than a tee-shirt, a hat or an emblem of some sort. It is a covering of the whole body to indicate the entirety of the consecration.
Further, each habit is distinctive since each religious community has a particular charism or gift by which they collectively serve the Church. Religious and priests do not merely consecrate themselves for their own agenda. Rather they join others with a similar and proven charisms in communities recognized by the Church.
The word “habit” also suggests that religious life and priesthood are not an occasional activity, or even a 9 to 5 job. The are the habitual identity and life of the one who receives the call. That is also why the habit is usually worn at all times.
The widespread disappearance of clerical garb and religious habits back in the 1970s was a disturbing trend. Many religious and priests no longer saw themselves as set apart, as distinctive. Many wanted to blend in and also lost a sense of the charism of their order. Many also preferred anonymity since it made them less busy and they no longer had to live as “public” people. However, many newer orders have emerged which once again wear the habit faithfully. Further, many older orders either never wholly abandoned it or have re-emphasized its importance. This is praiseworthy. If you are a lay person, encourage priests and religious as you see them about bearing witness to the their consecration by the way they dress and reminding others of God and the Kingdom of God.
If this post seems familiar, it is, I have re-posted it from about a year ago since I had no time to write a blog for today. I also suppose some newer readers may have missed it.
One of the cultural challenges we face in both living and proclaiming the faith is that the true faith doesn’t often fit our frantic pace and instant expectations. Consider that may today, including we who believe, demand the “Quick Fix.” What ever the situation, be it sickness, a needed repair of something we own, the delivery of something we have purchased, a resolution of family troubles, or even deeper issues such as inner peace, we want a quick fix.
But many things do not admit of a quick fix, especially the deeper things of the human soul. And the faith we proclaim does not propose something so simple. In this sense, the faith is less “marketable” to our quick fix culture. We do not (cannot) say “Simply Come to Mass for six, sequential Sundays and your problems will be over.” Rather, we say, “Give your life to Christ.”
The solution of God and of the true faith insists on an often slow but steady movement toward God wherein he draws us in stages, ever deeper to Him, to holiness, to perfection. Little by little, our fears fade, sins diminish, we become more loving, patient, compassionate, chaste, serene and so forth. The process usually takes decades, no quick fix here.
And many medicines need to be consistently applied: daily prayer, daily Scripture and spiritual reading, weekly Mass and Communion, frequent confession, and communal life in the Church to include helpful friendships, faith-filled relationships and works of Charity.
There is an old saying that “Grace builds on nature.” That is to say, that God’s grace respects the way we are made by him. And just as it pertains to our physical nature to change slowly, almost imperceptibly, (but surely), so our spiritual nature usually follows the same pattern. And, while there may be growth spurts, it is more often the subtle and sure growth that makes the deepest difference.
I can surely say this has been my experience. I have been serious about my spiritual life for the last 28 of my 50 years: daily Mass, daily Scripture, daily holy hour, weekly confession, fellowship with my people, holy friendships and spiritual direction. And wow, what a change! But it has taken 28 years to get here, and most of my growth was imperceptible, day to day. I’m not what I want to be, but I’m not what I used to be, a wonderful change has come over me.
Not the quick fix, not the fast rush, just a inching along like a poor inch worm (as an old Spiritual says). But praise God I am where I am today.
Lifelong plans may not “sell” but they are the way God insists on working.
On Fridays I have often tried to keep the post a little shorter and have tried to use a commercial to make my point. So how about this one:
In the commercial, below the is a man, Jerry, who is in a “State of Regret.” In a certain sense (as we shall see), Jerry represents all who stray from the Church and God’s life long plan of faith, looking for a fast rush, and quick fix elsewhere, apart from the faith and the Church.
Sure enough, Jerry’s regret is that he has dropped his “State Farm” Insurance and went with the “other company,” let’s call that company “Quick Fix Auto Insurance.” I allowing State Farm to represent the Church, I intend no endorsement, but do recall that “farming” is no quick fix business. It involves a lot of patient waiting and persistent working. Such is the work of the Lord and his Church, no quick fix, but more like farming.
Jerry complains to his former agent “Jessica” (but lets call her “Mother Church”). His complaint is: It only took me 15 minutes to sign with that other company but it’s taking a lot longer to hear back. OK, so now he’s learned that there really is NO SUCH THING as a “quick fix” when it comes to many things. And so must we learn this same truth. The world, the flesh and the devil, often make such promises and sow seeds of impatience in us when God does not act instantly, when the Church bids us to be patient and persistent. But Now Jerry’s impatience has brought him further troubles, as we shall see.
Jerry explains he’s had a “fender bender” The truth is Jerry has bent far more than a fender. He is in real trouble. We too often like to minimize our state when we have made bad decisions.
Jessica (Mother Church) is sympathetic but wonders what she can do, for Jerry has ended his relationship with her. Without a relationship, how can she help him? Here too, Mother Church often wants to help us, but must have a relationship with us to help. God too, seeks communion with us, in order to help us. But communion, a relationship, with the Lord and his Bride the Church are necessary for help to be extended.
Indeed Jessica (Mother Church) knows Jerry well, and seems, like a mother, to know implicitly and exactly what he has done. She knows he’s in real trouble and has “put his car up a pole” (again). There’s just something about Mother Church, she knows her children and what we do, she knows, and understands.
Hearing Jessica’s (Mother Church’s) knowing but compassionate words Jerry breaks down and says “I miss you Jessica!” The ad then says, “Let it out Jerry! Then come back to State Farm.” Yes, indeed. And so too for us. Soulful and tearful repentance and a restoration of our relationship with the Lord and his Church, are the way out.
Quick Fix Insurance Company can’t cut the deal. Come back to the Lord and his Church. The solution may not be “quick” but it will be sure if we stay the course.
One of the dangers in presenting New Testament moral teaching is that the preacher or teacher risks reducing the Gospel to a moralism. In other words the moral truth that is proclaimed is reduced merely to another rule that I am supposed to keep out of my own flesh power. This is an incorrect notion since, for a Christian, the moral life is not achieved, it is received. The moral life is not an imposition, it is a gift from God.
In the Gospel chosen for the American Holiday of Thanksgiving we have the familiar story of the ten lepers who are healed by Jesus and only one returns to thank Him. This fact of the ingratitude of the other nine prompts an irritable response by Jesus who more than suggests that they should also have returned to give thanks. Now if we just read this Gospel on the surface we can come away merely with a moralism that we should do a better job about being thankful to God and others. Well, OK. But simply having another rule or being reminded of a rule that already exists isn’t really the Gospel, it’s just a rule or an ethic of polite society.
Where the Gospel, the Transformative Good News exists, is to receive from God a deeply grateful heart so that we do not merely say thank you, but we are actually and deeply moved with gratitude. We are not merely being polite or justly rendering a debt of obligation to say “thanks” we actually ARE grateful from the heart. True gratitude is a grace, or gift from God which proceeds from a humble and transformed heart. In such a case we do not render thanks merely because it is polite or expected, but because it naturally flows from a profound experience of gratitude. This is the Gospel, not a moralism, but a truth of a transformed heart.
Thus, an anointing to seek from God is a powerful transformation of our intellect and heart wherein we become deeply aware of the remarkable gift that everything we have really is. As this awareness deepens so does our gratitude and joy at the “magnificent munificence” of our God. Everything, literally everything, is a gift from God.
Permit a few thoughts on the basis for a deepening awareness of gratitude. Ultimately gratitude is a grace, but having a deeper awareness of the intellectual basis for it can help to open us more fully to this gift.
1. We are contingent beings who depend on God for our very existence. He holds together every fiber of our being: every cell, every part of a cell, every molecule, every part of a molecule, every atom, every part of an atom. God facilitates every function of our body: every beat of our heart, every organ and movement of our body. God sustains every intricate detail of this world in which we live: the perfectly designed orbit of this planet so that we do not cook or freeze, the magnetic shield around the planet that protects us from harmful aspects of solar radiation, every intricate visible and hidden process of this earth, solar system, galaxy and universe. All of this, and us, are contingent and thus sustained by God and provided for by Him. The depth, height, length and width of what God does is simply astonishing. And he does it all free of charge. As we ponder such goodness and providence we are helped to be more grateful. All is gift.
2. Every good thing you or I do is a gift from God. St. Paul says, What have you that you have not received. And if you have received, why do you glory as though you had achieved? (1 Cor 4:7). Elsewhere he writes, For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do. (Eph 2:8-10). Hence even our good works are not our gift to God, they are His gift to us. And on judgment day we cannot say to God, "Look what I have done, you owe me heaven." All we can say on that day is “Thank You!” All is gift!
3. Gifts in strange packages – There are some gifts of God that do not seem like gifts. There are sudden losses, tragedies, natural disasters and the like. In such moments we can feel forsaken by God, and gratitude is the last thing on our mind. But here too, Scripture bids us to look again: And we know that all things work together for the good of those who love God and who have been called according to his purpose. (Romans 8:28). We don’t always know how, but even in difficult moments God is making a way unto something good, something better. He is paving a path to glory, perhaps through the cross, but unto glory. For now we may have questions but Jesus has said to us: But I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy. On that day you will have no more questions to ask me. (Jn 16:22-23). Yes, even in our difficulties we are more than conquerors (Rm 8:37) because the Lord can write straight with crooked lines, and make a way out of no way. All is gift!
4. Yes, all is gift. Absolutely everything is gift. Even our failures, if we are in Christ and learn from them and they teach us humility. For what shall we give thanks? Everything! All is gift!
5. There is an old saying:Justice is when you get what you deserve. Mercy is when you don’t get what you deserve. grace is when you get what you don’t deserve. I like you get asked a dozen times a day, “How are you doing?” I have trained myself to often answer, “More blessed than I deserve.” Yes, All is gift.
6. Finally, the work “Thanks” in English is unfortunately abstract. But in the Latin and the Romance Languages, the word for “thanks” is far more tied to the fact of grace and gift. In Latin one says thank you as gratias ago tibi, or simply, gratias. Now gratias is translated as “thanks” But it is really the same word as “grace” and “gift” which in Latin is rendered gratia. Hence when one receives a gift they thus exclaim: “Grace!” or “Gifts!” It is the same with Spanish: Gracias and Italian: ‘Grazie. French has a slightly different approach but no less abstract when it says Thank you as Merci which is rooted in the Latin merces, meaning something that has been paid for or given freely. So all these languages vividly record the giftedness that underlies everything for which we are grateful. The English word “thanks” does not quite make the connections. About the closest we get are the words, gratitude and grateful. And again all these words (gratias, gracias, grazie, merci, gratitude) teach us that all is gift!
To be grateful is ultimately a gift to be be received from God. We ought ot humbly ask for it. We can dispose our self to it by reflecting on things like that above but ultimately gratitude comes from a humble, contrite and transformed heart. Saying thank you is not a moralism. True gratitude is a grace, a gift that comes from a heart deeply moved, astonished and aware of the fact that all is gift.
At the heart of thanksgiving is not just food, but also family and fellowship. And, in these busy and distracted times we don’t have enough of these. But communion with God and each other is a foretaste of heaven. On the road to Emmaus Jesus gave a poignant picture of heaven: walking, talking and dining. And though I suspect we’ll do little walking this Thanksgiving, surely talking and dining will be an important part of it for most of us.
Pushes back the Evil One – And be mindful of this, our intentional communion, our talking and dining, if done with charity, pushes back the incursion of the evil one and helps prepare us for heaven. And we also stress charity and be intentional about it. For the devil despises communion and will do what he can to destroy or limit what ever communion we seek or find among each other.
I am somehow mindful of a quote from Pope Benedict XVI:
If there were such a thing as a loneliness which could no longer be penetrated and transformed by the word of another; if a state of abandonment were to arise which was so deep that no “You” could reach into it any more, then we should have real, total loneliness and frightfulness, what theology calls “hell”. We can now define exactly what this word means: it denotes a loneliness which the word love can no longer penetrate…a night into whose solitude no voice reaches. (In Introduction to Christianity, commentary on “Descended to hell.”)
Yes, our Thanksgiving fellowship, our communion of love, is essential for us. A kind of a remedy for the soul and a protective embrace against the powers of Hell. It helps, by God’s grace, to push back the loneliness and alienation that easily envelop us today in this “communication age.” For, as we too easily discover, communication is not the same as communion. In this simple feast we are reminded that we were made for love and communion.
Allow God to work many graces in for you this thanksgiving, especially the grace to love and find deeper communion with Him and others.
On a lighter note, this T.V. commercial in the video below (from the 1950s) teaches you how to add at least a 1000 calories to your Turkey this year.
Despite the terrible dietary advice given herein, I must say this video gave me a warm memory of my father, mother and sister as I watched it. For when I was very young, my mother and sister would be in the kitchen preparing the bird, and bonding as only a mother an daughter can. And my father would be nearby sharpening the knives and preparing for his role in cutting the turkey and the roast. (Though he would never wear the silly apron seen in the ad). They are all deceased now, but I can almost see them in this look into the past; a communion still.
