One of the great paradoxes of creation and our existence in God’s world is that many blessings are unlocked by explosive, even violent forces. The very cosmos itself is in a kind of process of hurtling outward in a massive explosion. And here we are, living midway (?) through that explosion.
When I see fireworks on the Fourth of July, I often think that each of those beautiful, fiery explosions is a miniature replica of the cosmos. Everywhere in the universe, the burning embers we call stars and galaxies glow brightly as they hurtle outward at close to one hundred million miles per hour. Yes, from one great singularity, God sent the power of His fiery, creative love expanding outward, giving life, and seeming almost limitless. The cosmos is unimaginably large, and yet its creator is infinitely large.
Even here on Earth, a relatively cool and stable bit of dust compared to the Sun, we stand upon a thin crust of land floating over an explosive sea of molten, fiery rock. The Book of Job says,
As for the earth, out of it comes bread; Yet underneath it is turned up as it were by fire (Job 28:5).
This fiery cauldron produces the rich soil in which we grow our very bread. The smoke and gases of the fires provide essential ingredients of the atmosphere that sustains us. The molten fires beneath us also create a magnetic field that envelops Earth and deflects the most harmful of the Sun’s rays.
Yes, all around us there is fire with its explosive violence, yet from it come life and every good gift.
To such small creatures like us, God’s expansive love can seem almost violent. Indeed, there are terrifying experiences near volcanos and from solar bursts that remind us that love is both glorious and unnerving. It is an awesome thing to fall into the hands of a living God (Heb 10:31).
We, too, in some of our greatest works, use violent means. The blades of our plows cut into the earth, violently overturning it. We raise animals and yet lead them to slaughter for food and clothing. We break eggs to make omelets. We stoke fires to cook our foods and warm our homes. We smelt the iron and other ore we violently cut from the earth. Even as we drive about in our cars, the ignition of the fuel/air mixture in the engine causes explosions, the energy from which is ultimately directed toward moving the vehicle.
Violent though much of this is, we do these things (at least in our best moments) as acts of love and creativeness. By them we bring light, warmth, and food. We build and craft; we move products and people to help and bless.
Yes, there is a paradoxical “violence” that comes from the fiery heat of love and creativity. The following is an excerpt from Bianco da Siena’s 14th century hymn to the Holy Spirit, “Come Down, O Love Divine”:
Come down, O Love divine,
seek thou this soul of mine,
and visit it with thine own ardor glowing;
O Comforter, draw near,
within my heart appear,
and kindle it, thy holy flame bestowing.
O let it freely burn,
till earthly passions turn
to dust and ashes in its heat consuming;
and let thy glorious light
shine ever on my sight,
and clothe me round, the while my path illuming.
Fire—you can’t live with it, can’t live without it. Let the fire burn; let the seemingly transformative “violence” have its way. It makes a kind of paradoxical sense to us living in a universe that is midway through its fiery, expansive explosion of God’s love and creativity.
Disclaimer: Gratuitous violence for selfish and/or merely destructive ends is not affirmed in this post. The term “violence” is used here in a qualified manner, as an analogy to convey the transformative and creative power of love phenomenologically.
There is a specific depiction of Christ known as Christ Pantocrator. It was widespread in the ancient world and still is today. The title “Pantocrator” is most often translated as “The Almighty One” or “The Omnipotent One.” It comes from the Greek words παντός (pantos, meaning all) and κράτος (kratos, meaning strength, might, or power).
In the particular image at right, Christ is seated (as a sign of authority). In many of the specific images he holds a book, sometimes open and sometimes closed. If the book is open, there can be a few of many different texts displayed. In some of the images there is an interesting juxtaposition of texts meant to provoke thought and lead to both catechesis and repentance.
Among the more interesting and provocative juxtapositions of texts is the one commonly used in the Neocatechumenal communities (see above right). On the left-hand page of the open book is the Gospel from today’s mass (Tue. of 11th Week), in which Jesus says, “Love your enemies” (Matt 5:44). On the right is the one in which Jesus says, “I am coming soon” (Rev. 22:7).
Provocative, indeed—and a sober call repentance! It is hard to see how we could hope to enter Heaven with hatred or vengeful anger for our enemies in our heart. With that eating away at our heart it wouldn’t be Heaven! Therefore, we should consider our final end and beg for the grace to love our enemies by praying for them, working for their conversion, and supplying their basic human needs (cf Rom 12:20; Prov. 25:21). Our goal is to be at one with them in Heaven, and even here in this life if it be possible and rooted in the truth.
Jesus sets apart the love of one’s enemies as the “acid test” for Christians:
Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you,so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect (Matt 5:44-48).
There’s nothing like a passage such as this one to get us on our knees asking for grace and mercy! Indeed, we will surely fail if we seek to love our enemies only through the power of our own flesh or from our own fallen nature.
Jesus is coming soon and He will look for this fruit in us. All the more reason, then, to ask it of Him:
Good Jesus, who alone can save me from my hard heart, grant me the grace to love my enemies and pray for those who persecute me. I am too weak, self-centered, and thin-skinned to do it on my own. I consent, good and merciful Jesus, to this work of yours in me. Accomplish this, Lord, by your grace!
Note to readers: The following article is long (3500 words). This is because I have been adding to it over the years as my research has continued. I am by avocation a church musician. Before my ordination, I was a Choir director and an organist. Like most of you, I have my preferences in the area of Church music, but we must be careful not merely to dogmatize them. If we are going to talk intelligently about Church music, knowledge of history is important. It would certainly be incorrect to think that the debates about music in the liturgy began in 1965. In fact, such debates go back to the very beginning of the Church. In order to provide some historical perspective (and a context for the reflection on what is and is not appropriate music) I have been writing and expanding upon this essay for several years. Since it is long, I want to provide a PDF, which you may find here, so that you can print the article out and read it at your leisure. If you do not have the time or the interest to read this full article, you can get the gist of it in the summation at the end.
With the exception of chant, almost every form of music that is today regarded as sacred initially had a stormy reception in the Church before being admitted to the ranks of music commonly called “sacred.”
That music is controversial in the Church is nothing new, as we shall see in this modest survey of the history of music in Catholic liturgy. Some of my sources are listed at the end of this post, but it is really the product of many years of reading and studying.
On some level, I hope to provide some perspective on the claim that is often made today that certain modern forms of music are inadmissible because they are not “sacred.” In no way do I intend to approve of all forms of modern music nor to encourage the admission of all of them into the liturgy, but it is worth appreciating that the definition of “sacred music” has changed over time. New forms have been admitted— sometimes reluctantly—to the exalted class we refer to as “sacred music.”
Here, then, is a brief look at the history of Church music in terms of what has been considered sacred and what has not.
I. The early, pre-Constantine period: Chant reigns supreme – While little if any music survives in written form from the earliest days of the Church, it seems clear (as Johannes Quasten records) that the leaders of the early Church (the Fathers and bishops) preferred monophonic music. This seems largely due to the association of harmony with the excesses of the pagan world and pagan worship.
Frankly, there was in the early Church a very persistent theme that music itself was problematic. Many ancient bishops and Fathers of the Church barely tolerated it, sought to limit its influence, and/or were deeply suspicious of any singing at all.
In his essay “On the Theological Basis of Church Music,” Cardinal Ratzinger (drawing from sources such as Pope Gregory the Great, St. Jerome, Gratian, and even as recent as St. Thomas Aquinas) describes the rather negative opinion in the early Church of any music involving instruments, harmony, or anything deemed “theatrical.” He writes,
Instrumental music, understood as a Judaizing element, simply disappeared from the early liturgy without any discussion; the instrumental music of the Jewish temple is dismissed as a mere concession to the hardness of heart and sensuality of the people at that time. What the Old Testament said about music and worship could no longer be applied directly; it had to be read by them allegorically; it had to be spiritualized
(Ratzinger, “On the Theological Basis of Church Music,” quoted from Collected Works Vol XI, pp 425-432).
Summarizing the views he had received from the earlier Church, St. Thomas wrote, “In the praise of God, the Church does not employ musical instruments … lest she appear to be falling back into Jewish ways” (Summa Theologica II, IIae, q. 91 a 2 ad 3).
Cardinal Ratzinger continues,
Analyzing the texts, not infrequent in the Fathers, which are critical of music or even openly hostile to it, one can clearly identify two constant and governing factors:
A. In the first place there is the one-sidedly “spiritual” understanding of the relationship between the Old and New Testaments … [So] Christian liturgy … took on a more or less Puritan form. … The idea that God can only really be praised in the heart means that no status can be accorded to music … In Christian worship … music must be relegated to a secondary level. Augustine is a splendid example of this. His sensitivity to music causes him much torment because his mind is dominated by a spiritualizing theology that ascribes the senses to the Old Testament, the old world; he is afraid of “sinning grievously” when he is “moved more by the music then by the reality to which the singing refers” … and would prefer “not to hear singing at all.” Fortunately, his rigorism is dampened when he recalls the profound stirring his soul experienced when he first heard Church music in Milan. [He thus adopted a view of music later stated by St. Thomas, which held that among the reasons for Church music was that] “Thus the minds of the weak be more effectively summoned to piety.”
B. The second group of ideas that stood in the way of a positive the valuation of Church music … is put in a nutshell in Thomas’ fundamental article on the praise of God, where he says that vocal worship is necessary, not for God’s sake, but for the sake of the worshiper (Ibid).
Cardinal Ratzinger argues in the essay that this tended to lead to a utilitarian view of Church music: necessary to some degree, but somehow less than ideal. He reflects that this created a barrier to any satisfactory theology, not only of Church music, but of all prayer whatsoever.
He also adds (in a later essay) another reason for the restrictive notions about music in the early Church:
To the extent that it distanced itself from the Semitic world, the development of Christological art songs [also] threatened more and more to turn into an acute Hellenization of Christianity … The fascination of Greek music and Greek thinking [now excluded] … so that the new music rapidly became the domain of Gnosticism … For this reason [too] the Church immediately and rigorously rejected the poetical and musical innovation and reduced Church music to the psalter … This limitation of liturgical singing which gradually began asserting itself from the second century … led to a forbiddance of private song compositions and noncanonical writings in liturgical services. The singing of the psalms also came to be restricted to the choir whereas others “should not sing in church” (See canon 59 of the Synod of Laodicea 364 AD) (Ratzinger, Ibid, p. 505).
Thus music in general, given its Semitic and pagan associations, was widely resisted in the early Church and tolerated only in limited ways. Music with any harmony was altogether excluded and would not reappear until the Late Middle Ages.
As a final sample of the Patristic skepticism of music or demonstrative worship, consider St. Cyprian, who wrote the following early in the 3rd century:
When we pray, our words should be calm, modest and disciplined. Let us reflect that we are standing before God. We should please him both by our bodily posture and the manner of our speech. It is characteristic of the vulgar to shout and make a noise, not those who are modest. On the contrary, they should employ a quiet tone in their prayer ….
When we gather to celebrate the divine mysteries with God’s priest, we should not express our prayer in unruly words; the petition that should be made to God with moderation is not to be shouted out noisily and verbosely. For God hears our heart not our voice. He sees our thoughts; he is not to be shouted at …
(Treatise on the Lord’s Prayer by Saint Cyprian, bishop and martyr (Nn. 4-6: CSEL 3, 268-270)).
So much, it would seem, for demonstrative prayer and exuberant singing.
Another reason that the early Church seems to have favored non-harmonic singing was somewhat rooted in the cosmology of the time, wherein there was an emphasis on the unity of all things. Whatever diversity was discovered was viewed as coming from the one hand of God. Monophonic music seemed to better express this unity, at least to the ancient Christian mind.
This cosmology of unity still finds its expression in the way that most Prefaces in the Mass are concluded. The Latin text speaks of the multitude of the choirs of angels, joining with the voices of the many saints (cum Angelis, et archangelis, cum Thronis, et Domininationes … et òmnibus Sanctis). Yet despite the vast multitude of voices, at the end of the Preface it says that they all sing “as with one voice, saying” (una voce dicentes), “Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God of hosts.”
And so at the earliest stage, music was limited, and to the degree it was it was largely what we today call chant. To the ancient Church, harmony was widely considered to be secular, even pagan.
II. The Church after Persecution: Chant develops – The earliest chants were quite simple and largely syllabic (one note per syllable); there were few elaborations. However, after the Edict of Constantine (321 A.D.) as the Church came out of a more hidden worship, the use of large, cavernous buildings started to influence the singing.
Cantors began to elaborate on the chant, making full use of the echoes in the larger, basilica-like buildings. Vocals became increasingly melismatic (multiple notes per syllable) rather than syllabic, especially during festival seasons. Syllables (such as those in the word “Alleluia”) began to be extended over more and more notes.
Singers also “yielded to the spirit,” and the long melismata became a kind of ecstatic “singing in tongues.” Though at first any elaboration was resisted, certain chants did begin to develop in some areas. As these melodies became increasingly complex, they were written down and collected by Pope St. Gregory (among others), hence the modern name, “Gregorian chant.”
As these chants became more and more elaborate, their sacredness was only gradually conceded. In fact, they became so complicated that the faithful in the congregation, who were already being discouraged from singing at all, had great difficulty joining in most of the chants. For this reason, special choirs called “scholas” were formed.
III. The High Middle Ages: Harmony enters – The next major development in Church music took place during the High Middle Ages, generally speaking in the 13th century. The first developments of harmony occurred in the musical schools in France, particularly around Paris. It was here that we saw the first widespread introduction of harmony into Church music.
Several factors influenced the introduction of harmony. First, there was the reintroduction of Greek philosophy and some of its views back into the Western world through scholasticism.
Among the Greek notions was a cosmology that spoke of the planets orbiting the sun in perfect circles, each of them ringing out a different tone and creating a beautiful celestial harmony in the heavens as they did so. This was the “music of the spheres” and the idea of a great and beautiful harmonic sound in the heavens. Thus the association of harmony with the sacred began to seem more plausible in the minds of Christians.
The first experimentation with harmony seems to have been singing the Gregorian melodies and adding a hollow harmony of a fourth or fifth. Sometimes this involved several singers singing the words in those harmonies. Other times the harmonizers simply “droned” in the background, somewhat like bagpipe drones.
Architecture was another factor that influenced the harmonies. The soaring new cathedrals with their vaulted ceilings that began to dot the landscape of Western Europe seemed to demand more soaring music. These cathedrals were the skyscrapers of their day.
As harmony began to sound more pleasing to the ears, scholars worked to study it using, of all things, the Pythagorean Theorem, to mathematically set forth the harmonic scale. Thus mathematics and music came together to quantify a kind of music theory. Gradually, as the years just prior to the 16th century ticked by, we came to have what we know of today as the 12-tone scale.
The introduction of harmony in the Church (as with most things musical) was not always without controversy. Some thought that it made the words harder to understand, a complaint that would plague polyphonic music in its early stages.
Nevertheless, as a general rule, the new harmonies from the Paris school swept through Europe to widespread acclaim. People flocked to the cathedrals to hear this splendid new music.
IV. Late Middle Ages to Renaissance: Musical revolution and a growing crisis for polyphony – It is hard to describe what took place in music from the late 1300s to 1500 as anything less than revolutionary. The modern harmonic scale as we now know it came into full realization. Harmony went from two-part, to three-part, and then to four and more parts, amazing listeners everywhere.
The incredible development of music during this period paralleled the remarkable developments in painting: increasing use of shadow, light, perspective, and depth. By the early 1500s, Renaissance polyphony was in all of its glory. Composers such as Isaac, Lassus, Palestrina, Victoria, Tallis, and Byrd brought this art form to an amazing richness.
But the music was not without controversy. There were two main problems with this new style called polyphony.
The first problem was the intelligibility of the text. With multiple harmonies being sung, the Latin text, often staggered across many parts and voices, became harder and harder to understand. Clergy in particular complained of this, arguing that the sacred text was taking a backseat to musical flourishes. In addition, the “theatrical showiness” seemed secular to many.
The second troubling issue was that many of the composers of the day drew from secular melodies that were often heard in taverns, in theaters, and on the streets. They would often take these recognizable melodies and set them as a cantus firmus (musical theme or foundation) of sacred compositions, including the parts of the Mass.
Heinrich Isaac, as early as the 1400s in his Missa Carminum, drew from many of these tavern songs. But perhaps the most egregious example of this, and something that almost caused polyphony to be banned completely from the Catholic Church, was a Mass composed by Orlandus de Lassus.
The Mass in question was his Missa Entre Vous Filles. The main melody of both the Kyrie and the Gloria came from a secular piece by the French composer Jacob Clemens non Papa, the words of which bordered on the pornographic. As the Mass grew widely popular (for it is a lovely melody), Church authorities discovered its source and a great uproar ensued.
This controversy took place during the years of the Council of Trent, and though some scholars are dubious of all the details, it is reported that there were Council Fathers who were serious about seeing that sacred polyphony was forever banned from the Catholic liturgy.
Among those who came to the rescue, I am happy to report, was my patron saint, Charles Borromeo. He assembled some increasingly dubious bishops and cardinals who were attending the sessions of the Council of Trent so that they could hear the Pope Marcellus Mass by Palestrina. This particular Mass seems to have been specifically composed to address some of the critiques about the intelligibility of the text and the secular origins of many melodies. The presentation calmed some of the fears regarding this new music and the crisis largely passed.
This incident demonstrates that what many today consider a very sacred sound (namely Renaissance polyphony) was actually quite controversial in its day. It was only thought of as sacred in a widespread way later on. After surviving this first crisis, polyphony became less “florid” and gave greater emphasis to the intelligibility of the text. Secular melodies were also excluded. For these reasons, later works by Palestrina are more austere than those from his earlier period.
Thus we see how the definition of what makes for sacred music had already passed through two major periods. In the first, harmonies were considered too secular; in the second, harmony was introduced but only slowly accepted as sacred in nature.
V. The Renaissance to the Baroque: New controversies, old problems – In the period of the middle Renaissance, a new cosmology began to replace the idea that the planets revolved around the sun in perfect circles. Astronomy started to reveal that most of the planets revolved around the sun in elliptical orbits, some of them quite elongated. The notion of the circular orbits of the planets, symbolized by the “music of the spheres” and imitated by Renaissance polyphony, began to give way to the understanding of the mathematical progression of elliptical orbits—a kind of Bach fugue in the sky. This change in cosmology helped to usher in the rather more elaborate, yet mathematical, music of the Baroque period.
In this period, we find the wonderful and mathematically precise music of Bach, Vivaldi, Handel, Mozart, Gabrieli, Schubert, Scarlatti, and many others. Perhaps the fugue best exemplifies the kind of mathematical cosmology of the time. In a fugue, mastered by Bach but not wholly unique to him, a musical theme is set forth. For example, quarter notes may announce the theme of the fugue. This theme is then repeated in the left hand and then in the feet (of the organist). It also progresses mathematically: into eighth notes, then into sixteenth and even 32nd notes. Math meets music! Other musical forms like canons emerged similarly. Symphonies also grew to have movements, which were often named for their tempo (e.g., allegro, adagio, presto).
The classical and baroque periods brought the great orchestral or “Classical” Masses, by composers such as Mozart, Schubert, and Scarlatti. Even Bach and Beethoven set the Catholic Mass in great symphonic and orchestral renderings.
Much controversy accompanied these newer forms. Once again, the principle concern was the intelligibility of the text. Another concern was the length of many of these Masses; in some, the Glorias and Credos could go on for twenty minutes or longer.
Some complained that these musical settings of the Mass made it sound more like being at the opera than at Mass. Indeed, they often broke the sacred text into movements sprinkled with soprano or tenor solos and duets, grand choral sections, and often with full symphonic accompaniment. It was quite a feast for the ears! These Masses were generally so elaborate that they could only be performed in the larger, well-endowed, city churches.
The controversy concerning these kinds of Masses continued for many years. Even as liturgical reforms began in the early 1900s, Pope Pius X frowned on their usage, referring to these orchestral Masses as “theatrical” (see Tra Le Sollecitudini # 6). This led to a de facto banishing of the form from the Catholic liturgy at that time. Only after the Second Vatican Council was this form rehabilitated in a small way.
Here, too, we see that what many Catholics today consider unquestionably sacred (e.g., a great Mozart Mass) had to survive much controversy and even a kind of banishment. What is thought of as sacred today has not always enjoyed that rarefied distinction!
VI. The Modern Era: New musical forms, new controversies– This leads us to the modern era. As we have seen, those who think that debates about what constitutes sacred music are new are simply mistaken. These disputes have been quite a constant part of Church life almost from the beginning. To place them at the feet of the Second Vatican Council is to lack historical perspective.
It is true that two documents of the Second Vatican Council (Musicam Sacram and Sacrosanctum Concilium) opened the door to newer forms with a greater freedom toward enculturation (e.g., MS # 18, 63), but they also reasserted the special accord to be given to chant (# 50a), polyphony, and the pipe organ (# 4a).
Although debate continues about newer forms of music and whether or not they are sacred, such tensions have long existed. Some newer forms have already been tried and found wanting (e.g., Polka Masses). Other forms such as “folk,” gospel, or contemporary music, with adaptions over time, have remained.
Summation:
Historically, no form of music currently considered sacred achieved that status without controversy.
Indeed, music itself was controversial in the early Church and was barely tolerated by many of the Church Fathers.
Time ultimately proves where wisdom lies and ultimately mediates for us what is sacred in a way that transcends mere passing tastes or preferences.
Music has made several revolutionary leaps during the age of the Church.
Provided necessary rational limits are applied, there is no need to rush to exclude every newer form.
If we were to do so, only chant would exist in the Church, and we would be deprived of a great treasury of music from the era of polyphony and the classical period.
In saying this I do not mean to indicate that all music is just fine, or that all modern forms are here to stay, or that newer forms should not be questioned; it is clear that some forms are wholly inimical to the Sacred Liturgy. Rather, I seek to remind people that what is called “sacred music” is historically quite complex. It is the result of long and vigorous discussions, refinements, and other factors as diverse as cosmology, architecture, mathematics, and culture.
We do well to let some of the conversations and controversies work themselves out, lest in too quickly ending them by judicial fiat we impoverish ourselves and block what might bless others and even our very selves.
These are just a few of my sources for the above article:
Here are the Kyrie and Gloria from the Missa Entre Vous Filles by Orlando de Lassus, the polyphonic Mass setting that almost torpedoed polyphonic music in the Church. To our “distant” ears it is delightful and melodic. At the time, however, it engendered great outrage as nearly pornographic, because it drew from the melody of a “racy” song of the time.
Sunday’s Feast of Corpus Christi brought the first Masses of the new priests ordained here in Washington. It was also Father’s Day. The readings for Corpus Christi suggest a kind of threefold office for the priest (related to teaching, governing, and sanctifying). I thought it might be good to present some of the notes from that homily on the blog today. Here, then, are three facets of a faithful Father—of a faithful priest.
I. The Priest Announces the Truth – Throughout the readings today we see Moses, St. Paul, and Jesus announcing fundamental truths for God’s people. Scripture says, For the lips of a priest should preserve knowledge, and men should seek instruction from his mouth; for he is the messenger of the LORD of hosts (Malachi 2:7). In today’s readings, four truths stand out that the priest should announce.
REMEMBER– Moses says to the people, Do not forget the Lord your God (Deut 8:14). He also adds, Remember how for forty years now the Lord, your God, has directed all your journeying in the desert (Deut 8:2). Hence, every priest must stand before his people and say to them always (whether explicitly or implicitly), “Never forget the works of God. Do not forget what He has done for you. Remember Him and what He has done for you!”
To remembering means to have so present in my mind and heart what God has done for me that I’m grateful and different. Indeed, gratitude is a form of joy. When we are grateful, an awful lot of poison goes out of our heart. When you’re joyfully grateful, it’s pretty hard to despise your neighbor, or to be stingy and greedy, or to be vengeful and envious. Yes, a lot of poison goes out of our system when we remember what the Lord has done for us; we are grateful, joyful, different. At every Mass, the priest, as a Father, should remind his people never to forget the works of the Lord.
REJOICE– Here, too, today’s readings portray the priestly call for his people to rejoice in the Lord. Psalm 147 says, Glorify the Lord O Jerusalem; praise your God oh Zion! (Psalm 147:12), and the beautiful Sequence Hymn says, Laud O Zion your salvation, Laud with hymns of exultation, Christ your king and Shepherd true.
Every priest, as a faithful Father, must summon his people to rejoice in the Lord. The Lord only permits difficulty in order for some greater glory to be ushered in. Every priest should say, as in the words of Scripture, “Do not be sad, do not weep, for rejoicing in the Lord must be your strength!” (Neh 8:10) Joy is the natural state of every Christian, and every faithful priest should summon his people to joy by being a man of joy, hope, and confidence himself.
Sadly, joy is not the first thing that many people see upon walking into a typical Catholic congregation. Too often the scene looks more like a funeral than the wedding that the Mass is supposed to be. While it is true that people express joy in different ways, joyous is not the first way most outsiders would describe a typical Catholic congregation.
Every faithful priest should stand before his people and say “Rejoice,” not only with his words but also by his demeanor, hope, and manifest confidence.
RE-CENTER – In the first reading, Moses says to his people, Not by bread alone does one live, but by every word that comes forth from the mouth of God (Dt 8:3). Here, too, every priest, as a faithful Father, must exhort his people to center their lives on things that really matter. Too many of God’s people focus on lesser things such as sports, politics, money, or how they stack up against other people. But every faithful priest, every faithful Father, must stand before his people and remind them, in the words of Isaiah,
Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without cost. Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good and you will delight in the richest of fare. Give ear and come to me; listen, that you may live (Isaiah 55:1-3).
Yes, Sunday after Sunday, the holy priest must remind the faithful of that which really matters and call them to focus their lives on heavenly, lasting things rather than earthly, passing things.
RECEIVE– In the Gospel today, Jesus warns, Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have a life in you (Jn 6:53). Thus every priest will celebrate the Eucharist for his people faithfully and will exhort them never to miss a Sunday. His chief desire is to feed the people entrusted to his care and to warn them that if they neglect to feed on the Holy Eucharist of the Lord, they will have no life in them.
They will be like the children of Israel in the wilderness who would never have made it to the Promised Land if they had not faithfully eaten the manna that God gave them to preserve them in the desert for over forty years. Neither will we make it to the heavenly Promised Land if we do not receive frequently our manna—the very Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Jesus Christ.
Every priest, every faithful Father, must stand before his people and say, “Come, eat His Body, which was broken for you, and His Blood, which was shed for you.” Every priest will seek the lost sheep to restore them to the nourishment they desperately need and without which they will die.
II. The Priest Admonishes the Timid and Temperamental – In today’s Gospel, as the Lord Jesus announced the essential truth of the Holy Eucharist He encountered many who were quarrelsome and murmured against Him.
How does He deal with them? Upon hearing their protests, He does not compromise. He does not water down His teaching. Rather, He intensifies it and warns them clearly.
When He tells them that they must eat His Flesh and drink His Blood, and they object, He warns them with this well-known Jewish expression: “Amen, amen I say to you!” Then He goes on to say that unless (which is a very strong and exclusive word) “you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood you will not have a life in you.” He then intensifies His teaching even more by substituting an impolite word for eating: τρώγων (trogon), which means to gnaw on or devour.
So when it comes to an essential truth, Jesus does not water down or “cave in.” Rather, He solemnly reasserts the truth even more forcefully. He does this not to be argumentative, but because He loves them and does not want them to be lost forever.
So, too, for the priest of God today. We live in quarrelsome times in which many murmur and protest: about the Eucharist to be sure, but also about many moral teachings. The priest of God, as a faithful Father for his people, must not water down the truth or compromise. Rather, he must speak the truth even more clearly. He must explain it with love, so as to save his people from the error that can and will destroy them. Yes, like Jesus, every priest must speak the truth clearly and in love.
St. Paul admonished Timothy,Preach the word; be ready in season and out of season; reprove, rebuke, exhort with great patience and instruction. For the time will come when they will not endure sound doctrine; but will surround themselves with teachers who will tickle their ears, they will accumulate for themselves teachers in accordance to their own desires (2 Tim 4:2-3).
All the more reason, then, that the priest of God must stand before his people, not counting the personal cost, and speak the truth to them in love, speak to them the truth without which they will perish.
III. He Advances the Transformation of God’s People – Notice that in this brief passage the Lord Jesus presents the same truth four times:
i. I am the living bread that came down from heaven; whoever eats this bread will live forever; ii. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life. iii. The one who feeds on me will have life because of me. iv. Whoever eats this bread will live forever.
Obviously, since repetition is the mother of studies, Jesus wants us to lay hold of this truth: if we receive His Body and Blood and follow Him in faith, we will have eternal life!
Yet many misunderstand the concept of “eternal.” The Greek word αἰῶνα (aiona) refers not merely to the length of life but also to its fullness. Therefore, in offering us eternal life, Jesus is not simply saying that we will live forever in the sense of a very long time. Rather, He is saying that we will become more and more fully alive with Him, even in the present, and that one day we will enter into the glory of Heaven forever where we will be so alive that our life here will seem to have been a mere coma. St. Ireneus says that the glory of God is the human person fully alive.
Therefore, every priest must stand before his people and announce to them a fuller life, a richer life, a more wonderful life—not in some distant Heaven, but even now! He cannot be content merely to point to the possibility of such a thing. Rather, he must stand before them as a living witness, as one who has committed himself to prayer, to the sacraments, to the Word of God, and to walking in holy fellowship with the Church. He must show that even now he is experiencing a life made richer and fuller by the grace of the sacraments working in his life. He is not merely to announce to his people the richer and fuller life; he is to stand before them as a witness of it.
Of this, I myself can testify. Now well into my fifties, my body is heading south. My soul, however, is more alive than ever before. I am more joyful and more confident. I love God more. My prayer life is coming alive; my mind and heart are being renewed. I’ve seen sins put to death and new graces come alive.
Yes, every priest must be able to stand before his people as a living witness of how the Lord can transform our lives and bring us into the fullness of eternal life, even now. In this way, he helps to advance his people in the transformation that is the normal, the expected life of God’s people.
Here, then, are some facets of a faithful Father, gleaned from yesterday’s readings at the Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ.
In many places this Sunday, the (moved) Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ Our Lord is celebrated.
While you may puzzle over my title for today’s blog, allow me to delay the explanation to a bit later. On a solemn feast like this, many things might be preached and taught. Let’s look at three areas for reflection: the Reality of the Eucharist, the Requirement of the Eucharist, and the Remembrance of the Eucharist.
I. The Reality of the Eucharist – On this solemn feast we are called above all to faith in the fact (as revealed by the Lord Himself) that the Eucharist, the Holy Communion, is in fact a reception of the very Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Jesus Christ, whole and entire, in His glorified state. We do not partake of a symbol. The Eucharist is not a metaphor; it is truly the Lord. Neither is it a “piece” of His flesh. It is Christ, whole and entire. Scripture attests to this in many places:
Luke 22:19-20And he took bread, and when he had given thanks he broke it and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” And likewise the cup after supper, saying, “This cup which is poured out for youisthe new covenant in my blood.”
1 Cor 10:16The cup of blessing which we bless, is it not a partaking in the blood of Christ? The bread which we break, is it not a partaking in the body of Christ?
Luke 24:35They recognized him in the breaking of the bread.
1 Cor 11:29For anyone who eats and drinks without recognizing the body of the Lord eats and drinks judgment on himself.
John 6:51I am the living bread which came down from heaven; if any one eats of this bread, he will live forever; and the bread which I shall give for the life of the world is my flesh.
This last quote is from the Gospel for today’s feast. The passage is a profound theology of the Eucharist from Jesus Himself. He makes it clear that we are not permitted to think of the Eucharist as a symbol or in metaphorical terms.
When Jesus referred to the bread as Hisflesh, the Jewish people hearing Him grumbled in protest. Jesus did not seek to reassure them or to insist that He was speaking only symbolically. Rather, He became even more adamant by shifting His vocabulary from the polite form of eating, φάγητε (phagete – meaning simply “to eat”) to the impolite form, τρώγων (trogon – meaning “to munch, gnaw, or chew”).
So insistent was He that they grasp this that He permitted many to leave Him that day, knowing that they would no longer follow in His company due to this very teaching (cf Jn 6:66). Yes, the Lord paid quite a price for this graphic and “hard” teaching (Jn 6:60).
Today He asks us,Do you also want to leave me? (Jn 6:67) We must supply our answer each time we approach the altar and hear, “The Body of Christ.” It is here that we answer the Lord, “Amen,” as if to say, “Lord, to whom shall we go, you have the word of eternal life!” (Jn 6:68)
If only everyone would grasp that the Lord Himself is truly present in our churches! Were that so, one could never empty our parishes of those seeking to pray with the Lord. As it is, though, only 27 percent come to Mass regularly. This is more evidence of the narrow road and how few there are who find it. Just as most left Jesus then, many continue to leave Him now or stand far away through indifference or false notions.
What father would not be severely alarmed if one of his children stopped eating? Consider, then, God’s alarm that many of us have stopped eating.
II. The Requirement of the Eucharist – When I was a young boy I thought of going to Mass and receiving Communion as just something my mother made me do; it was just rituals and stuff. I never thought of it as essential for my survival. But in John’s Gospel today, Jesus teaches something very profound about Holy Communion (the Eucharist). In effect, He says that without Holy Communion we will starve and die spiritually.
Here is what Jesus says: Unlessyou eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you (John 6:53).
As a kid and even a young adult I never thought of Holy Communion as essential for my life, as something that, if not received regularly, would cause me to die spiritually. But it makes sense doesn’t it? If we don’t eat food in our physical lives, we grow weak and eventually die. It is the same with Holy Communion.
Remember this from the Book of Exodus: the people were without food in the desert and they feared for their lives, so God gave them bread from heaven, “manna,” and they collected it each morning. Without eating that bread from Heaven they would never have made it to the Promised Land; they would have died in the desert.
It is the same with us. Without receiving Jesus, our living manna from Heaven, in Holy Communion, we will not make it to our Promised Land of Heaven! I guess it’s not just a ritual after all. It is essential for our survival.
Don’t miss Holy Communion; Jesus urges you to eat.
A mother and father in my parish recently noticed that their daughter wasn’t eating enough. Within a very short time they took her to the doctor, who was able to cure the problem; now the young girl is eating again. Those parents would have moved Heaven and earth to make sure that their daughter was able to eat.
It is the same with God. Jesus urges us to eat, to receive the Holy Communion, every Sunday without fail. Jesus urges us with this word: “Unless!” Holy Communion is our required food.
III. The Remembrance of the Eucharist – The word remembrance comes up a lot in reference to Holy Communion. Consider the following passages from Scripture:
Remember how for forty years now the LORD, your God, has directed all your journeying in the desert … and then fed you with manna (Deut 8).
Do not forget the LORD, your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt (Deut 8:24).
Do this in remembrance of me (1 Cor 11:24, inter al).
What is remembrance and why is it important? In effect, to “remember” is to have present in your mind what God has done for you so that you’re grateful and different. God has saved us, made us His children, and opened Heaven for us. Yet our minds are very weak and too easily we let this slip from our conscious thoughts. Thus, the summons to an ἀνάμνησιν (anamnesin) or “remembrance” that is so common in the Eucharistic liturgy is a summons to our minds to be open to and powerfully aware of what the Lord has done for us. Don’t just stand or kneel there, forgetting; let this be present to you as a living and conscious reality that transforms you!
Are you a mouse or a man? Now to address the puzzling question I posed in my title. Back in my seminary days we were given the example of a mouse who scurries across the altar, takes a consecrated host, runs off, and eats it. We were then asked, “Does the mouse eat the Body of Christ?” The answer is yes! The Eucharist has a reality unto itself. “Does the mouse receive a sacrament?” No, because a mouse has no rational mind. It eats the very Body of Christ, but to no avail, for it has no conscious awareness or appreciation of what (whom) it is eating. So then the question for you is this: “Are you a mouse or a man?”
How do you receive Holy Communion? Do you mindlessly shuffle along in the Communion line in a mechanistic way or do you go up powerfully aware of Him whom you are about to receive? Do you remember? Do you have vividly present in your mind what the Lord has done for you? Are you grateful and amazed at what He has done and what He offers? Or are you just like a mouse, mindlessly receiving something that has been put into your mouth?
Some people put more faith in Tylenol than they do in the Eucharist. Why? Because when they take Tylenol they actually expect something to happen! They expect the pain to go away, for there to be relief and healing. But when it comes to Holy Communion, they expect next to nothing. To them, it’s just a ritual. Hey, it’s time to go up and get the wafer (pardon the expression) now.
Really? How can this be? Poor catechesis? Sure. Little faith? Sure. Boredom? Yes, indeed. On some level it can be no better than a mouse eating a host. We are receiving the Lord of all creation, yet most expect little.
To this the Church says, “Remember! Have present in your mind all that the Lord has done is about to do for you. Let the reality of His presence be alive in your mind so that it changes you and makes you profoundly grateful and joyful. Become the One whom you receive!”
Jesus is more powerful than Tylenol, and we are men (and women), not mice.
On this Solemnity of the Body of Christ, we are summoned to deepen our faith in the Lord, present in the Eucharist and acting through His Sacraments. Routine may have dulling effects, but we cannot let it be such that we receive the Lord of glory each Sunday in any way that would be called mindless.
Ask the Lord to anoint your mind so that you remember and never forget.
The commercial below reminds us that the products we use don’t just come out of nowhere. Good goes around and around. The Cheerios in the cereal box started out as seeds in the ground, but the commercial stops well short of showing everyone we should thank for the final product.
• Before sowing the seed, the ground has to be tilled and prepared.
o Thank you to the farmers as well as those who invented, designed, and build the plows.
o Thanks to the steel workers and miners, who contribute the raw materials to build the machines that till.
o Thanks to the petroleum and refinery workers who supply the fuel for the machines to till the earth.
• Once the seed is planted, water, fertilizer, and pesticides need to be supplied in order to ensure a rich harvest.
o Thanks again to the farmers, who rise early in the morning in all kinds of weather to do this work.
o Thanks to those who invented and supply the fertilizer and pesticides.
• Once the crops are ready, they must be harvested and sent to the mill.
o Thanks to those who do the hard work of harvesting.
o Thanks to the truckers and rail workers, who are responsible for conveying the material to the mills.
o Thanks to those who designed, built, and maintain the roads, rails, trucks, and rail cars.
• Once at the mill, the raw material must be processed.
o Thanks to all who work in the mills.
o Thanks to those who invented the machines and processes.
o Thanks to those who supply the steel and the parts for the machines.
o Thanks to those who repair and maintain the machinery.
• Once out of the mill, it’s over more roads and rails to the warehouses and then finally the stores.
o Thanks to all who built the warehouses and stores.
o Thanks to those who carefully monitor inventory so that we consumers are seldom faced with empty shelves.
o Thanks to those who risked their money to build the warehouses and stores.
o Thanks to the bankers, investors, and the people whose deposited money serves to make cash available for the costs for such operations.
o Thanks to the store employees, who stock the shelves and ensure that the products we need are at hand.
This is only a brief list, but never forget that a huge number of people stand behind every box of cereal, behind every other product you buy. Do you see how interconnected we are?
Are you grateful to God, who sustains all of this and from whom every good and perfect gift comes? Each of us should be!
There is an important interplay and balance between the virtues that many modern minds set in opposition to one another. False dichotomies often prevail when the subtlety of virtues are lost or their meanings are grasped in simplistic or inaccurate ways.
Consider three virtues that are related and which enable and moderate one other: fortitude, patience, and meekness. To most people, these virtues seem more opposed than related. Today, fortitude conjures up an image of a fearless warrior in battle or an intense prophet fearing nothing of the opinion of men. Meekness seems to be thought synonymous with weakness and conciliation. Finally, patience in modern parlance often means either not acting at all or acting indecisively and without courage.
There are, of course, many problems with this thinking; the modern understanding of these words is quite different from their biblical or scholastic meaning. So part of our task is to recover a more accurate understanding of these words, but another aspect is to see how these virtues balance and moderate one another.
Fortitude – Consider first that fortitude is the virtue that enables us to withstand even great difficulties that hinder us from attaining our true goal. A chief feature of fortitude is being able to endure difficulties and see an act or decision through to the end. It is not merely being brave in the face of danger or sallying forth into battle; it is also being steadfast in spite of obstacles and enduring without sadness or loss of faith.
As with any virtue, there are certain sins that may emerge (by excess or defect) in relation to fortitude. Timidity, pusillanimity, faintheartedness, and softness are defects of fortitude. There are also excesses related to fortitude such as being foolhardy, presumptuous, overly ambitious, vainglorious, and headstrong (pertinacious).
Thus, patience and meekness are aspects of fortitude, especially in helping to govern excesses related to fortitude. While the modern mind considers them to be in opposition to fortitude, they are actually integral parts of it, because they not only moderate fortitude but are ways of living and expressing it.
Patience – This is perhaps the most frequent form under which fortitude is exercised in the face of the difficulties of life. St. Thomas Aquinas said that patience is attached to fortitude because it helps us to resist giving way to sadness and to bear up under the difficulties of life with a certain equanimity or steadiness of soul. By it, we do not give way easily to emotional sadness or excessive anger. Thus patience is an act of fortitude, because it bids us to endure painful or difficult things without weakening in our faith or our commitment to the truth. With patience, we are steady in the face of the vexations and contradictions of life.
Sadly, many in our culture equate patience with weakness. However, to be patient and to endure is a great strength. As St. Thomas points out, Endurance is more difficult than aggression … because endurance implies a length of time, whereas aggression is consistent with sudden movement (Summa Theologica IIa IIae q. 123, a. 6).
The fact is that many troubles and contradictions last for a long time. Not all (or even most) things can be changed for the better simply or quickly, so patience and suffering are often necessary acts of fortitude; they require great strength and brave endurance. Jesus said, In this world you shall have tribulation, but have courage, I have overcome the world (John 16:33). St Paul added, Through many tribulations we must enter into the kingdom of God (Acts 14:21).
While fortitude will often summon us to face danger bravely, to proclaim the faith, and to do what is right; while it will rebuke cowardliness, faintheartedness, and softness; it will also enable us to endure difficulties without sadness, fear, depression, or excessive anger. In all these ways there is strength and courage to be found. While the modern mind does not often connect patience with fortitude, it is in fact one of its most common manifestations.
Meekness– Even more so the modern mind does not connect meekness with fortitude. The average person today does not even know the real definition of the word “meekness.” Most consider the word to be associated with being a pushover or a doormat. In this flawed sense, meekness is despised as weakness and fearfulness.
But meekness, in its traditional and theological sense, is anything but weakness. The meek are those who have authority over their anger, who can command and control its power, moderating and directing its energy to good rather than destructive ends.
Aristotle defined meekness as the proper middle ground between too much anger and not enough. Anger has an important place in the human psyche but it must be mastered and moderated, for it is unruly. The meek are those who have mastered their anger and know how to use its creative power to set things right.
In our culture, an “angry prophet” gets some credit as he denounces the powerful and vents his anger, but a prophet who is merely angry is not a true prophet. True prophets love God’s people; their anger results from the love of God, His truth, and His people. Beware mistaking true zeal born out of love with angry zeal, which sermonizes indiscriminately. The angry prophet preaches in order to get something off his chest and vent his anger. The true prophet speaks out of zealous love and from a meekness that gives him authority over his anger and zeal.
Fortitude without patience and meekness is like fire with nothing to contain it. Such a fire spreads wildly and destroys what it should illuminate and heat; it destroys what it should purify and transform.
Therefore, patience is not opposed to fortitude but rather is itself an act of fortitude because it courageously resists discouragement when the battle seems long and fierce. It enables fortitude to act over a long period, consistently and persistently, to attain an end that mere zeal would impatiently forsake in the absence of immediate results.
Similarly, meekness is also not opposed to fortitude but is also a form of it, by authoritatively governing the anger directed against injustice and error. The meek person is ultimately at peace deep inside, even while engaging in a struggle on the outside. This, of course, is essential for fortitude to reach its goal because reaching a goal (say, of establishing the truth, refuting error, or restoring justice and respect for life) is nearly impossible for a soul consumed by anger. Meekness, therefore, is the courage of fortitude along with the control that helps focus anger, zeal, and brave action.
Thus, as with so many things, we ought not to separate what God has joined, in this case fortitude, patience, and meekness. Scripture says, be angry but sin not (Eph 4:26). With respect to our virtues we might add this: have the courage and zeal of fortitude, but be not foolhardy, presumptuous, or headstrong.
Have the courage and zeal to enter the battle. Don’t be like so many people today who are soft, cowardly, and indiscriminately conciliatory. Conversely, enter not with wild, ungoverned fortitude (which isn’t really true fortitude at all); enter with a fortitude that is patient and willing to endure through what may well be a long battle. Enter with a fortitude that is authoritatively mastered and stabilized through meekness.
One of the great battles in the spiritual life is mastering our emotions, by God’s grace. Our emotions are not evil, but they are unruly and easily manipulated by the world and the devil. Our own flesh (fallen nature) also contributes to the difficulty of self-mastery.
Yet as I have often testified, if we are faithful to the Lord and to prayer, growth in the spiritual life happens. Many of my once-unruly emotions have become more stable and are more quickly assuaged when they arise. I feel very good and confident about the progress I have made because I know it is the Lord who has accomplished it. Yes, I did my work: prayer, spiritual direction, Scripture, confession, Mass, and psychotherapy, but I know it was the Lord. For example, I remember awaking one morning and realizing that some very deep hurts from the past were gone. I couldn’t say when they had left; it seemed as though they had just evaporated. God was signaling me that it was over; they were gone, just gone. I felt a forgiveness, even a compassion, for those who had hurt me. I knew that I wasn’t the one who had accomplished this. Without God’s grace, I was prone to cling to my anger and resentments and rehash the injustices I had felt. Thankfully those feelings have never returned.
Anxiety was always the unruliest of my emotions. Beginning at ten years of age I would have crippling bouts of anxiety and panic. During these periods I could barely sleep and would obsessively ruminate over the fears that seized me. As a boy, I was terrified of various things: a house fire, someone breaking in and killing our entire family, etc. As I grew older and had more duties and responsibilities, I would have periodic attacks of extreme anxiety about assignments or about presentations/sermons I had to give.
The sporadic nature of these bouts seemed to confirm their demonic source. I could go for months, even years at a time, and be fine; suddenly, and usually for no apparent reason, I would feel an overwhelming panic or anxiety. For example, when I had been a priest for over ten years and been preaching and teaching with ease, I suddenly went through a period of grave anxiety over my Sunday sermons. I would worry all week long about the upcoming sermon.
Whether or not these were satanic attacks, the fact is that demons are opportunistic. They found doorways in my psyche and I, with the Lord, knew that deliverance prayer alone wasn’t going to be enough. The doors had to be closed. The work of grace and my cooperation with the Lord was going to have to win the day.
The heart of the battle occurred during a ten-year period, from my mid-thirties to my mid-forties. The medicines were these: prayer, spiritual direction, psychotherapy, sacraments, liturgy, the purification of the intellect (since most feelings come from thoughts), and learning by grace to trust God.
As in any battle, the victories came, but there were also setbacks and relapses. Little by little, trust triumphed over anxiety. A more stable, serene, and confident joy became my set point.
Now in my mid-fifties, I can say that the most recent ten years have been largely and increasingly victorious. I am seldom anxious about anything today. Thank you, Lord, and thank you also for all who have helped, guided, consoled, and encouraged me in my journey!
Every now and again, usually for just a moment (or no more than a day), I am reminded that I hold this treasure in an earthen vessel and that I need to stay “prayed-up”; I need to maintain the disciplines I have learned. Maybe it is a dream in the middle of the night from which I struggle to recover. Perhaps it is just a memory that seems all too real. Maybe it is the looming possibility of a new duty. Thanks be to God, though, the reminders are brief and whatever anxiety comes is manageable. I cannot tell you how grateful I am to God for this gift!
St. Catherine of Siena writes of these “reminders” in her major work, The Dialogue of Divine Providence. God the Father teaches her why He permits them:
Sometimes I resort to a pleasant “trick” with [the spiritually mature] to keep them humble …. For the sensual emotions slumber [even] in the perfect soul but they do not die. This is why, if they relax their efforts, or let the flame of holy desire grow dim, these emotions will awaken. It is essential to remain in holy fear of me …. Otherwise … the emotions seem to be asleep and it seems that they do not feel the weight of great sufferings or burdens. But then, in some tiny thing that really is nothing (that they themselves will later laugh at), their feelings are so aroused that they are stupefied. My providence does this to make them grow and go down into the valley of humility. [I do this] to give them give opportunity for merit, to keep them in the self-knowledge whence they draw true humility, to make them compassionate instead of cruel toward their neighbors so they will sympathize with them in their labors. For those who have suffered themselves are far more compassionate to the suffering than those who have not suffered
We still need pricks and blows lest in our progress we become prideful or think that something is so far in the past that we forget to be grateful for our deliverance. The point is that we should never lose heart nor think that all progress is lost when we see a simple reminder of our frailty. With God we are strong, but only with God. Salutary reminders of this are necessary and the Lord, who loves us, provides them.
One of the great paradoxes of creation and our existence in God’s world is that many blessings are unlocked by explosive, even violent forces. The very cosmos itself is in a kind of process of hurtling outward in a massive explosion. And here we are, living midway (?) through that explosion.
