Community in Mission

In the secular world, a “mystery” is something which baffles or eludes understanding, something which lies undisclosed. And the usual attitude of the world toward mystery is to solve it, to get to the bottom of it, or to uncover it. Mysteries must be overcome! The riddle or “whodunit” must be solved!

In the Christian and especially the Catholic world, “mystery” is something a bit different. Here, mystery refers to the fact that there are hidden dimensions in things, people, and situations that extend beyond their merely visible and physical dimensions.

One of the best definitions I have read of “mystery” is by the theologian and philosopher John Le Croix. Fr. Francis Martin introduced it to me some years ago in one of his recorded conferences. Le Croix says,

Mystery is that which opens temporality and gives it depth. It introduces a vertical dimension and makes of it a time of revelation, of unveiling.

Fr. Martin’s classic example of this to his students is the following:

Suppose you and I are at a party, and Smith comes in the door and goes straight away to Jones and warmly shakes his hand with both his hands. And I say, “Wow, look at that.” And you say, puzzled: “What’s the big deal, they shook hands … so what?” And then I tell you, “Smith and Jones have been enemies for thirty years.“

And thus there is a hidden and richer meaning than merely what meets the eye. This is mystery: something hidden, something that is accessible to those who know, who are initiated into the mystery and have come to grasp some dimension of it; it is the deeper reality of things.

In terms of faith, there is also a higher meaning that mystery brings. And thus Le Croix added above, It [mystery] introduces a vertical dimension, and makes of it a time of revelation, of unveiling.

Hence we come to appreciate something of God in all he does and has made. Creation is not just dumbly there. It has a deeper meaning and reality. It reveals its creator and the glory of Him who made it. The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands (Psalm 19:1).

Indeed, there is a sacramentality to all creation. Nothing is simply and dumbly itself; it points beyond and above, to Him who made it. The physical is but a manifestation of something and Someone higher.

In the reductionist world in which we live, such thinking is increasingly lost. And thus we poke and prod in order to solve the mysteries before us. And when have largely discovered something’s physical properties, we think we have exhausted its meaning; we have not. In a disenchanted age, we need to rediscover the glory of enchantment, of mystery. There is more than meets the eye. Things are deeper, richer, and higher than we can ever fully imagine.

Scripture, which is a prophetic interpretation of reality, starts us on our great journey by initiating us into many of the mysteries of God and His creation. But even Scripture does not exhaust the mystery of all things; it merely sets us on the journey ever deeper, ever higher. Mysteries unfold; they are not crudely solved.

For the Christian, then, mystery is not something to be solved or overcome so much as to be appreciated and reverenced. To every person we know and everything we encounter goes up the cry, O magnum et admirabile mysterium (O great and wondrous mystery)! Now you’re becoming a mystic.

Here is Fr. Francis Martin speaking briefly on mystery:

One of the most overused terms in modern speech is the word “absolutely.” As in, “Do you want some gravy with those potatoes?” “Absolutely!” Or, “Would you agree that solution ‘X’ is the best solution to problem ‘Y’?”  “Absolutely!” What to call this … an expression? A semantic substitution for “yes?” A logism? A hyperbole? A grandiloquence? A periphrasis? Why this obsession with saying “absolutely” or its strange step-sister, “exactly”?

It is a strange paradox that in an age of relativism, an age that emphasizes personal opinion and subjective feelings over objective truth, so many people substitute for “yes” words like “absolutely,” “exactly,” “precisely,” “positively,” and so forth.

Perhaps we subconsciously seek certainty in an age of uncertainty. Or perhaps, in an age of hypersensitivity, we seek to overemphasize to people that we are “100% on board” with what they have said.

And now you may ask, “Why do you keep saying ‘perhaps’? Are you indicating a lack of certainty in your conclusion?” Absolutely! I have no idea why people use this word so much today. And NOW you ask, “Why do you say you have NO idea? Is it not really the case that you have some idea and that your saying ‘NO idea’ is reflective of the tendency for people to use hyperbole (exaggeration) for emphasis?” Yes! Absolutely! Exactly! So perhaps people are using “absolutely” merely as hyperbole.

Well, as you can see, we humans use a lot of rather excessive and categorical ways of speaking, even while at the same time using qualifiers such as “perhaps” and “sort of.” We are very strange. Which is really (or should I say perhaps) another way of saying that we are somewhat strange.

But, back to “absolutely.” Avoid saying this word for three reasons:

1. It’s getting annoying. I think it has surpassed “you know” and “like” on the annoyance meter. I want you to know that I never use any of these terms. 😉

2. You don’t really mean it. It’s more likely that you just mean “yes” or “I’m generally on board with what you said.” So say what you mean and own it.

3. Even for those of us who do not come from an “everything’s relative” mindset, affirming things “absolutely” is not usually recommended. There’s an old saying (playful in its own way), “Seldom affirm, never deny, always distinguish.” In other words, most statements, positions, views, rules, etc. admit of exceptions, need context, and/or require distinctions. Few things are “absolutely” the case. The road sign at the upper right is not absolutely true. If it were, there would be nothing to indicate, nothing to point at; there would be no next 22 miles at all.

Even commandments like “Thou shalt not kill” require some distinctions and context. Thus, in the commandment, “kill” is used more in the sense of “murder.” For in rare cases, one is able to kill as a last recourse if it is necessary to save one’s own life (self-defense) or the lives of others. Further, “killing” is often distinguished to mean premeditated, intentional killing (first degree murder) and other lesser degrees such as accidental killing due to irresponsibility (manslaughter), etc. So even if someone asks, “So would you agree with me that killing people is wrong?” it should not usually produce the answer, “Absolutely!” or “Exactly!”

Now, there ARE absolute moral norms such as “Never kill the innocent” and “Never blaspheme God.” But most things admit of exceptions (even if rare) and are not in fact “absolute.”

Does my correction seem dangerous to you? Of course it does. But we who live in an age of excessive relativism ought not overreact by insisting that more things are absolute than actually are, or that the only certainty is absolute certainty. Most rules, norms, and teachings do have exceptions and most of what we know has varying degrees of certainty. Most of us who have faith can be most certain about what God has definitively revealed. But even here, simply pulling a quote from the Bible or the Catechism is not enough. We need to understand a given truth or line from the Bible in the context of the whole of revealed truth, which sometimes qualifies, balances, or distinguishes it.

Many today who oppose the moral teachings of Scripture and the Church do this by reducing everything about the Lord to a “God is love” argument, as if the fact that He loves us means He would never say anything that might upset us. And thus one concept from Scripture is absolutized and read without understanding or referring to anything else. Yes, God is love, but He also loves us too much to lie to us. God loves us enough to tell us the truth and, if necessary, to hit us over the head with it.

The bottom line is, avoid saying “absolutely,” though I don’t mean this absolutely. Jesus gets the last word: Let your ‘Yes’ mean ‘Yes,’ and your ‘No’ mean ‘No.’ Anything more is from the evil one (Matt 5:37).

Can I get an “Absolutely!”?  err … I mean, can I get an “Amen!”?

One of the great illusions under which we labor is that if we just get one more thing from this world, then we’ll be happy. Perhaps if we just had a little more money, or a better job, or the latest iPad, or if we were married to so-and-so, or if we just lived in a better neighborhood … then we’d be satisfied and content at last. But “at last” never comes, even if we do get some of the things on our list. As Ecclesiastes puts it, The eye never has enough of seeing, nor the ear its fill of hearing (Ecc 1:8). Or again, Whoever loves money never has money enough; whoever loves wealth is never satisfied with his income (Ecc. 5:8).

Though we know this, somehow we continue to buy into the lie again and again: that just one more thing will do it. So we lay out the money and spend the time, but the delight lasts only twenty minutes, tops. The world just can’t close the deal.

There is a little preacher’s parable that illustrates the endless treadmill the world has us on, and shows how the world endlessly seduces us to want “just one more thing.” In the end, this seduction leads us to neglect the one thing most necessary. Here is the parable, followed by some commentary:

There was a man who was lonely and thought, perhaps, that buying a pet would help his loneliness. At the pet store he looked at many animals, and found himself drawn to one in particular. The sign over the cage said, “Talking Parrot: Guaranteed to talk!” “This will surely solve my problem,” thought the man, “For here is an animal that can even talk!”

“That’ll be $250,” said the merchant.

One week later the man returned saying, “This parrot isn’t talking!”
“You mean to say,” said the merchant, “he didn’t climb the ladder and talk?”
“Ladder? You didn’t tell me about a ladder!”
“Oh, sorry,” said the merchant, “That’ll be $10.”

One week later the man returned saying, “This parrot still isn’t talking!”
“You mean to say,” said the merchant, “he didn’t climb the ladder, look in the mirror, and talk?”
“Mirror? You didn’t tell me about a mirror!”
“Oh, sorry,” said the merchant, “That’ll be $10.”

One week later the man returned saying, “This parrot still isn’t talking!”
“You mean to say,” said the merchant, “he didn’t climb the ladder, look in the mirror, peck the bell, and talk?”
“Bell? You didn’t tell me about a bell!”
“Oh, sorry,” said the merchant, “That’ll be $10.”

One week later the man returned saying, “This parrot still isn’t talking!”
“You mean to say,” said the merchant, “he didn’t climb the ladder, look in the mirror, peck the bell, jump on the swing, and talk?”
“Swing? You didn’t tell me about a swing!”
“Oh, sorry,” said the merchant, “That’ll be $10.”

One week later the man came to the shop and the merchant asked, “How’s the parrot?”
“He’s dead!” said the man.
“Dead?” said the merchant … “Did he ever talk before he died?”
“Yes, he finally talked!” said the man.
“Well, what did he say?”
“He said, ‘Don’t they sell any birdseed at that store?'”

Lesson 1: Promises, Promises – And thus this parable teaches us in a humorous way that the world and the “prince of this world” are always promising results. Yet when those results are lacking, the practice is simply to demand more of the same. First the bird, then the ladder, then the bell, then the mirror, and then the swing. There’s always something more, and then the perfect result will surely come! This is a lie. The lie comes in many forms: just one more accessory, just go from the free to the paid version, just buy the upgrade to solve the difficulty, just one more drink, one more diet, a newer car, a bigger house, a facelift, bariatric surgery, etc. It’s always just one more thing and then you’ll make it; happiness is just past the next purchase.

Jesus, in speaking to the woman at the well, said of the water of that well (which represents the world), Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again (Jn 4:13). And that is the sober truth about this world: it cannot finally quench our thirst, which is a thirst for God and Heaven. But time and time again we go back to the world and listen to the same lie, thinking, “This time it’ll be different.”

Surely it is sensible that we make use of the things of this world insofar as they aid us to accomplish our basic duties. But they are not the answer to our deeper needs. The big lie is that they are the answer. And when they fail, the lie just gets bigger by declaring that just a little more of the failed product will surely close the deal. It’s a big lie and it gets bigger.

Lesson 2: The One Thing Most Necessary – In the pursuit of the ladders, mirrors, bells, and swings, the one thing most necessary was neglected: the food. And this is true for us, too. We seek to accumulate worldly toys and trinkets that pass away, and we neglect eternal and lasting realities. There is enough time for TV, sports, gossip, shopping … you name it. But prayer, Scripture, Sacraments, Liturgy, worship, and developing any kind of relationship with the Lord are most often neglected or even wholly forgotten in our pursuit of ladders, mirrors, bells, and swings. We are staring into the mirror focused too much on ourself. The bells of this world summon us to countless things, mostly trivial in the long run, and we are climbing the ladder of success with little care as to what wall it is leaning against.

And all of these less important matters divert us from the one thing necessary: to feed our souls on the Lord. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me, and I in him … the one who feeds on me will live because of me ... (Jn 6:56-58).

Ah, but no time for all that. Getting to Church, praying, receiving Communion? No time! I hear a bell summoning me to just one more diversion, one more meeting. I’m too busy climbing the ladder of success. I’m too busy looking at myself in the mirror to make sure I fit in and that everyone likes me.

Did [the parrot] ever talk before he died?”
“Yes, he finally talked!” said the man.
“Well, what did he say?”
“He said, ‘Don’t they sell any birdseed at that store?'”

Just a little parable on the lies of the devil and the false promises of this world.

Today’s feast of the Baptism of the Lord provides a moment to reflect not only on the Lord’s baptism, but also on our own. For in an extended sense, when Christ is baptized, so are we, for we are members of His body. As Christ enters the water, He makes holy the water that will baptize us. He enters the water and we follow. And in these waters He acquires gifts to give us, as we shall see below.

Why was Jesus baptized? It has been asked in every generation why Christ sought baptism. The baptism of John surely pointed to sin, of which Christ  had none. The question has been well answered by the Father and many others. In effect, Christ descended into those waters; He troubled those waters, stirring them up to make them holy for our sakes. And by this descent, which points to the Paschal mystery, obtained manifold blessings for us. St. Maximus of Turin speaks of Christ’s baptism this way:

I understand the mystery as this. The column of fire went before the sons of Israel through the Red Sea so that they could follow on their brave journey; the column went first through the waters to prepare a path for those who followed. … But Christ the Lord does all these things: in the column of fire He went through the sea before the sons of Israel; so now in the column of his body he goes through baptism before the Christian people. … At the time of the Exodus the column … made a pathway through the waters; now it strengthens the footsteps of faith in the bath of baptism (de sancta Epiphania 1.3).

So Christ, as it were, opens a way for us by troubling the waters, just as He did at the Red Sea,  and obtains for us victory over our spiritual enemies.  He brings us forth to freedom on the other side. He is baptized for us. Ephesians 5:30 says, we are members of Christ’s body. Thus when Jesus goes into the water, we go with Him. And in going there, He stirs up the water; He troubles the water for us, acquiring gifts on our behalf.

Don’t be afraid of troubled waters; there is a blessing on the other side. A songwriter once spoke of seeking a bridge over troubled waters. Biblically, this is poor advice. For it is only by going through, or wading into, the troubled waters that the blessing is found. More on this in a moment. For now, simply observe that Christ wades in, troubles the water, and obtains blessings for us out of the troubled waters.

And what are the gifts He obtains for us? The texts speak of them somewhat figuratively, but clearly. In effect, there are four gifts spoken of in the Gospel descriptions of Jesus’ baptism:

1. Access – the heavens are opened. The heavens and paradise had been closed to us after Original Sin. But now, at Jesus’ baptism, the text says that the heavens are opened. Jesus acquires the gift of sanctifying grace for us. And by this grace, the heavens open for us and we have access to the Father and to the heavenly places. Scripture says, Therefore, since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand (Romans 5:1). It also says, For through Jesus we have access in one Spirit to the Father. So then you are no longer strangers and sojourners, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God (Eph 2:17). Hence the heavens are also opened at our own baptism and we have access to the Father.
2. Anointing – the Spirit of God descends on him like a dove. Here, too, Jesus acquires the gift of the Holy Spirit for us. In baptism, we are not just washed of sins, we also become temples of the Holy Spirit. After baptism, there is the anointing with chrism, which signifies the presence of the Holy Spirit. For adults, this is Confirmation. But even for infants, there is an anointing at baptism to recognize that the Spirit of God dwells in the baptized as in a temple. Scripture says, Do you not know that you are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in you? (1 Cor 3:16)
3. Acknowledgment – this is my beloved Son. Jesus receives this acknowledgment from His Father. He allowed this to be heard by some of the bystanders for the sake of their own faith. But He also  acquires this gift for us. In our own baptism, we become the children of God. Since we become members of Christ’s body, we now have the status of sons of God. On the day of your baptism, the heavenly Father acknowledged you as His own dear Child. Scripture says, You are all sons of God through faith in Christ Jesus, for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ (Gal 3:26).
4. Approval – I am well pleased. Jesus had always pleased His Father. But now He acquires this gift for you as well. Here, too, is another acknowledgment of the sanctifying grace that the Lord gives us in baptism. Sanctifying grace is the gift to be holy and pleasing to God. Scripture says, Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavens, as he chose us in him, before the foundation of the world, to be holy and blameless in his sight (Eph 1:1-3).

Thus, at His baptism, Christ acquired these gifts for us, so that at the troubled, stirred up water of our own baptism, we could receive them. Consider well the glorious gift of your baptism. Perhaps you know the exact day. It should be a day as highly celebrated as your birthday. Christ is baptized for our sakes, not His own. All these gifts had always been His. Now, in His baptism, He fulfills God’s righteousness by going into the water to get them for you. It’s alright to say, “Hallelujah!”

This video I put together shows that God has a way of bringing blessings when He troubles the water.

He troubled the waters in the great flood to cleanse the earth,
He troubled the waters at the Red Sea to bring forth victorious escape and freedom from oppression,
He troubled the waters in the desert to satisfy the Israelites,
He troubled the waters of the Jordan so they could enter the promised land,
Jesus troubled the waters at His baptism and obtained many a gift for us,
And from the troubled waters of His pierced side came salvation and the Holy Spirit.

So don’t build a bridge over troubled waters; wade on in! There’s a blessing on the other side.

In the realm of liturgy there is often heard the voice of “historicists” who like to explain why something began in the liturgy historically. Usually their purpose for this is to say that it is silly to keep doing it today. But of course this logic is flawed, since even things that began for a practical reason usually take on additional meaning over time that ought not be discarded. Here are a few examples:

1. The ringing of the bells at the Sanctus, at the Hanc igitur, at the elevation of the host and chalice, and at the priest’s communion is said to have begun as a signal to the people, who were often not very engaged in what was going on “way up there at the high altar.” Maybe they were saying personal prayers or lighting candles. And thus, at important moments, the bells were rung to signal them that something important was about to happen. “Pay attention” was the meaning of the bells. And historicists today say, “Lose the bells,” since the people are deeply engaged now and have no need of signals. Of course they forget that the bells also came to indicate “the holy” and were not “just” a signal. Failing to ring them took away some of the aura of the holy, since bells were not “just” a signal.

2. It is said that incense was used mainly to cover up the bad smell of burning animal flesh in the Old Testament (it was not). And in churches of the New Testament era, where people did not bathe much (actually they bathed more than we think), body odor had to be covered up. Thus today many say, “Lose the incense,” since most people bathe and buildings are better ventilated. But again, they forget that incense is more than perfume; it is a symbol of prayer (cf Ps 141) and, once again, signifies the holy to God’s people.

3. It is said that the mixing of water with wine was an ancient practice since wine was “mixed” in those days. But today, wine is already filtered and mixed and we don’t need to mix it, so “Lose the ritual,” they say. But they do not understand that it has more significance than a mere practical gesture. For the prayer clearly indicates it is a symbol of our becoming one with Christ.

4. It is said that offertory processions were once a messy affair with all sorts of things being brought up in the procession such as crops, and even animals, the handling of which soiled the priest’s hands. Today only bread and wine are brought up so, “Lose the hand washing,” they say. But again the prayer goes beyond its practical roots (for which it is no longer needed) and speaks to a cleansing from sin that is still needed.

So you see that what once began as a practical measure often took on a spiritual meaning as well. A merely historicist understanding often neglects later developments.

Somehow I thought of this when I watched this video. It playfully posits that “half-time” in football games began with the chance appearance of a few beautiful women with some Pepsi-Cola. But whatever half-time’s “practical” origin really was, it has become a lot more since then, especially at the Superbowl and at college games, where entertainment is supplied and people (fans AND players) recharge and prepare for what is to come. It also introduces tension into close games and makes us wait for the outcome.

If it had a practical origin, it is part of the ritual now. Even if we ended up replacing the players with robots or virtual holographic players who need no rest, I suspect that half-time would still be part of the game. Why? Because most things never exist just for themselves, and neither do most things fully explain themselves. There’s always more to the story than mere practicality.

As it is for football, a fortiori the Mass. Every now and again it makes sense to let a few things fall away, but otherwise, may ritual remain reverently revered! There’s more to the story than mere practicality.

There is a common misunderstanding of the meaning of the Biblical phrase “the flesh.”  There are many references to “the flesh” in New Testament Scripture, especially in the letters of St. Paul. The phrase confuses some, who think it synonymous with the physical body or merely with sexual sin.

It is true that there are many times when Scripture uses the word “flesh” to refer to the physical body. However, when the definite article “the” is placed before the word “flesh” we are most often dealing with something else. Only very rarely does the Biblical phrase “the flesh” (ἡ σὰρξ (he sarx), in Greek) refer only to the physical body (e.g., John 6:53; Phil 3:2; 1 John 4:2); rather, it almost always refers to something quite distinct from merely the physical body.

What then is meant by the term “the flesh” (ἡ σὰρξ)? Perhaps most plainly it refers to the part of us that is alienated from God. It is the rebellious, unruly, obstinate part of our inner self that is operative all the time. It is the part of us that doesn’t want to be told what to do. It is stubborn, refuses correction, and doesn’t want to have a thing to do with God. It bristles at limits and rules. It recoils at anything that might cause me to be diminished or to be something less than the center of the universe. The flesh hates to be under authority or to have to yield to anything other than its own wishes and desires. The flesh often desires something simply because it is forbidden.

The recent Protestant translations of the Bible (such as the NIV) often call the flesh our “sin nature,” which is all right unless the term “nature” is understood in the stricter philosophical sense. (For sin is not something that we should posit as coming from our nature, but rather as emerging more from our fallen condition, from the fact that our nature has been wounded.) In Catholic tradition, “the flesh” is where concupiscence sets up shop. Concupiscence refers to the strong inclination to sin that is in us as a result of the wound of Original Sin. If you do not think that your flesh is strong, just try to pray for five minutes and watch how quickly your mind wants to think of anything but God. Just try to fast or to be less selfish; then watch how quickly your flesh goes to war.

The flesh is in direct conflict with the spirit. “The spirit” here refers not to the Holy Spirit, but to the human spirit. The (human) spirit is the part of us that is open to God, that desires and is drawn to Him. It is the part of us that is attracted by goodness, beauty, and truth, the part that yearns for completion in God, the part that longs to see His face. Without the spirit, we would be totally turned in on ourselves and consumed by the flesh. Thankfully, our spirit, assisted by the Holy Spirit, draws us to desire what is best, upright, good, and helpful.

Perhaps it is good that we look at just a few texts that reference “the flesh” and thus learn more of the flesh and its ways. This will help us to be on our guard and to rebuke it (by God’s grace) and learn not to feed it. I make some comments in red following each quote.

1. The Flesh does not grasp spiritual teachings – [Jesus said] The Spirit gives life; the flesh counts for nothing. The words I have spoken to you are spirit and they are life (John 6:63).

Having heard Jesus’ teaching on the Eucharist, most of his listeners ridicule it and will no longer take Jesus seriously. So Jesus indicates that their hostility to the teaching on the Eucharist is of the flesh. The flesh demands that everything be obvious to it on its own terms. The flesh demands to see physical proof for everything; it demands that it be able to “see” using its own unregenerate power. And if it cannot see based on its own limited view, it simply rejects spiritual truth out of hand. In effect, the flesh refuses to believe at all since what it really demands is something that will “force” it to accept something. Absolute proof takes things out of the realm of faith and trust. Faith is no longer necessary when something is absolutely proven and plainly visible to the eyes of flesh. The flesh simply refuses to believe and demands proof.

2. The flesh is not willing to depend on anyone or anything outside its own power or control – For it is we who are the circumcision, we who worship by the Spirit of God, who glory in Christ Jesus, and who put no confidence in the flesh— though I myself have reasons for such confidence. If anyone else thinks he has reasons to put confidence in the flesh, I have more: circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; in regard to the law, a Pharisee; as for zeal, persecuting the church; as for legalistic righteousness, faultless. … I [now] consider this rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ (Phil 3:3-9 selected).

The flesh wants to be in control rather than to have to trust in God. Hence it sets up its own observance, under its own control. And when it has met its own demands it declares itself to be righteous. Since the flesh hates being told what to do, it takes God’s Law and makes it “manageable” based on the flesh’s own terms. So, for example, if I am supposed to love, let me limit it to my family and countrymen; but I am “allowed” to hate my enemy. But Jesus says, no, love your enemy. The flesh recoils at this, for unless the Law is manageable and within its own power to accomplish, the Law cannot be controlled. The flesh trusts only in its own power. The Pharisees were “self-righteous.” That is to say, they believed in a righteousness that they themselves brought about through the power of their own flesh. But the Law and flesh cannot save. Only Jesus Christ can save. The flesh refuses this and wants to control the outcome based on its own power and terms.

3. The Flesh hates to be told what to do – For when we were controlled by the flesh, the sinful passions aroused by the law were at work in our bodies, so that we bore fruit for death. (Rom 7:5).

The disobedience and rebelliousness of the flesh roots us in sinful behavior and prideful attitudes. The prideful attitude of the flesh is even more dangerous than the sins that flow from the flesh, since pride precludes instruction in holiness and the possible repentance that leads to life. But the flesh does not like to be told what to do. Hence it rejects the testimony of the the Church, the Scriptures, and the conscience. Notice, according to the text, the very existence of God’s Law arouses the passions of the flesh. The fact that something is forbidden makes the flesh want it all the more! This strong inclination to sin is in the flesh and comes from pride and indignation at “being told what to do.” The flesh refuses God’s Law and sets up its own rules. The flesh will not be told what to do.

4. Flesh is as flesh does – Those who live according to the flesh have their minds set on what the flesh desires; but those who live in accordance with the spirit have their minds set on what the spirit desires. The concern of the flesh is death, but the concern of the spirit is life and peace (Rom 8:5-6).

The flesh is intent on things of this world, upon gratifying its own passions and desires. On account of the flesh, we are concerned primarily with ourselves and seek to be at the center. The flesh is turned primarily inward. St. Augustine describes the human person in the flesh as “curvatus in se” (turned in upon himself). But the spirit is the part of us that looks outward toward God and opens us to the truth and holiness that God offers. Ultimately, the flesh is focused on death, for it is concerned with what is passing away: the body and the world. The human spirit is focused on life, for it focuses on God who is life and light.

5. The Flesh is intrinsically hostile to God – The mind of the flesh is hostile to God. It does not submit to God’s law, nor can it do so. Those controlled by the flesh cannot please God (Rom 8:7-8).

The flesh is hostile to God because it is hostile to anyone more important than itself. Further, the flesh does not like being told what to do. Hence it despises authority or anyone who tries to tell it what to do. It cannot please God because it does not want to.

6. The Flesh abuses freedom – You, my brothers, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the flesh; rather, serve one another in love (Gal 5:13).

The flesh turns God-given freedom into licentiousness. Licentiousness demands freedom without limit. Since the flesh does not want to be told what to do it demands to be able to do whatever it wants. In effect, the flesh says, “I will do what I want to do and I will decide if it is right or wrong.” This is licentiousness and it is an abuse of freedom. It results in indulgence and, paradoxically, leads to slavery to the senses and the passions.

7. The Flesh Demands to be fed – So I say, live by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh. For the flesh desires what is contrary to the Spirit, and the Spirit what is contrary to the sinful nature. They are in conflict with each other, so that you do not do what you want (Gal 5:16-17).

Within the human person is this deep conflict between the flesh and the spirit. We must not be mistaken; the flesh is in us and it is strong. It has declared war on our spirit and on the Holy Spirit of God. When the spirit tries to obey, the flesh resists and tries to sabotage the best aspirations of the spirit. We must be sober about this conflict and understand that this is why we often do not do what we know is right. The flesh has to die and the spirit become more alive. What you feed, grows. If we feed the flesh it will grow. If we feed the spirit it will grow. What are you feeding? Are you sober about the power of the flesh? Do you and I feed our spirit well through God’s Word, Holy Communion, prayer, and the healing power of Confession? What are you feeding?

8. The Flesh fuels sin – The acts of the flesh are obvious: sexual immorality, impurity and debauchery; idolatry and witchcraft; hatred, discord, jealousy, fits of rage, selfish ambition, dissensions, factions and envy; drunkenness, orgies, and the like. I warn you, as I did before, that those who live like this will not inherit the kingdom of God (Gal 5:19-210).

This catalogue of sins that flow from the flesh is not exhaustive, but is representative of the offensive and obnoxious behavior that flows from the flesh. Be sober about the flesh; it produces ugly children.

9. The Flesh hates authority –  This [condemnation by God] is especially true of those who follow the corrupt desire of the flesh and despise authority (2 Peter 2:10).

It’s clear enough: the flesh hates authority. And did I mention that the flesh does not want to be told what to do?

So here is a portrait of “the flesh.” It is ugly. You may say that I have exaggerated, that the flesh is not really this bad. I am not. Just buy a newspaper and read what the flesh is up to. You may, by God’s grace, have seen a diminishment in the power of the flesh in your life. That is ultimately what God can and will do for us. He will put the flesh to death in us and bring alive our spirit by the power of His Holy Spirit. But the first step is to appreciate what the flesh is and understand its moves. Step two is to bring this understanding to God through repentance. Step three is, by God’s grace, to stop feeding the flesh and start feeding the spirit with prayer, Scripture, Church teaching, Holy Communion, and Confession. Step four is to repeat steps one through three for the rest of our lives! God will cause the flesh to die and the spirit to live, by His grace at work in us through Jesus Christ.

There is no musical better at (humorously) depicting the flesh than Camelot. Here are a couple of video clips that depict well the flesh.

In this first video, Sir Lancelot ponders what a great and perfect guy he is. He even goes so far as to say, “Had I been made the partner of Eve we’d be in Eden still!”

In this second clip, the knights (in the flesh) ridicule goodness and sing, “Fie On Goodness!” It well illustrates the tendency of the flesh not only to indulge sin, but also to resist and ridicule what is good.

There is a line in the first letter of John, read this week at Mass, that is of critical importance to many difficulties we see today with heresy, unbelief, and moral decay. The line says:

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

John also writes in the second letter,

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

One of the fundamental principles at the heart of the Johannine Scriptures is that the Word became flesh. Jesus actually came in the flesh; we could touch our God. The true faith is incarnational. In Jesus Christ, God takes up the physical order, Justice … Truth springs up from the earth (cf Ps 85:12). God actually becomes man. The love of God and His salvation are tangible and real, not merely ideals, wishes, or hopes. Faith is about reality. This is John’s and the Holy Spirit’s insistence: that we not let this truth slip from our understanding even for a moment.

There are and have been many Gnostic and Neo-Gnostic tendencies through the centuries that seek to reduce faith to mere intellectualism, to ideas or opinions, and to remove things from the world of reality. Thus St. John and the Church have had to insist over and over again that Jesus is real, that faith is real and is about real, tangible, even material things.

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

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

Jesus also took up and made use of the physical and created order in His saving mission. Obviously He took it up in the incarnation, but He also referenced creation in many of His parables. He pointed to the lilies of the field and to the sparrow. He made paste with saliva and mud, anointed with oil, changed water to wine, laid hands on the bodies of countless individuals in healing, and took bread and wine and changed it to the Body and Blood. He took up the wood of the cross, laid down His body in suffering and death, and raised it up again on the third day. Then He took His body—His physical body—with Him to Heaven and sat down at the right hand of the Father.

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

Gnostic tendencies have existed in every era, but were most severe in the early centuries among heretical groups. They have resurfaced in recent centuries, especially since the so-called Enlightenment, where human reason is exalted unreasonably.

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

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

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

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

Not all Protestant denominations equally indulged iconoclastic and rationalistic tendencies in this aftermath of the Enlightenment. There remained many great artistic and musical accomplishments within the Protestant realm, including architecture.  But the general pattern is visible to some extent in all the denominations founded after the Enlightenment. Worship and faith moved more into the mind and the world of ideas, and away from the created, tangible, physical realities of this world.

Neo-Gnostic and Enlightenment mentalities also reached into the Academy (i.e., the secular and even religious universities) beginning especially in the late 17th century, in the aftermath of Renée Descartes’ troubled theories and struggle with radical skepticism. We live on the dark side of the Cartesian divide, in a world skeptical and dubious of reality itself.  We are increasingly out of touch with the revelatory quality of creation. Less and less is reality anything to which we owe allegiance; all that matters is what we think, what we feel. We live increasingly in our minds, quite out of touch with reality.

Nothing exemplifies this more that the acceptance of homosexual behaviors. Even the most causal investigation of the design of the human body will show that man is made for woman and woman for man. The man is not for the man nor is the woman for the woman. The design of the body clearly reveals this and that homosexual acts are disordered. Quite literally, the parts do not fit and the purpose of sexuality is thwarted.

But in the post-Cartesian world, a world in which people increasingly live in their minds rather than reality, the body apparently has nothing to say to us, nothing to reveal. Reality is apparently not something to which we owe any allegiance. Most who support homosexual behavior are wholly dismissive of any argument that appeals to the body at all. All that seems to matter is what a person thinks or feels. The body is wholly beside the point. And thus the incarnation is dispensed with. In fact, most homosexuals will go so far as to say, “God made me this way.” Whether God “makes” people have psycho-sexual disorders is surely debatable (at best we can say He permits crosses for us all), but the design of the body, more certainly made by God, clearly speaks to how we are made. And God clearly made us this way: sexually complementary, that is completed by the opposite sex. This is how God actually made us. But again, to the modern Gnostic the body means nothing. To refer to it in an argument is like referring to some authority on the planet Xenon. The modern Gnostic lives wholly in his mind; reality and the body are at best irrelevant and at worst an irritant that must be legislated against.

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

Yet another tendency today is “wordsmithing.” It’s not abortion; it’s choice. It’s not contraception; it’s reproductive choice. I’m not religious, but I’m spiritual. They’re not fornicating; they’re cohabiting. The more vague, vapid, and non-descriptive the words the better. Abstractions and generalities replace clearer, more reality-based descriptions.

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

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

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

One of the unfortunate couplings with those who lament the loss of the “pre-Conciliar” Mass (a.k.a. Traditional Latin Mass (TLM), Extraordinary Form, 1962 Missal, etc.) is the linking of the “New Mass” (a.k.a. Ordinary Form) wholly with the Second Vatican Council. This connection, while understandable given the emergence of the Ordinary Form just after the Council, is too simplistic and is unhelpful for a number of reasons. Without the Second Vatican Council, would the Ordinary Form of the Mass be similar to what it is today? We can only speculate. But given what was under way long before the Council in both the Church and Western culture, it seems likely that, Council or not, there would have been a heavy altering of the Mass as it was known mid-century.

I will attempt to make this argument historically in a moment, but first consider why this is strategically and pastorally important.

I. Strategy – It is significant as a pastoral stance to articulate why we should decouple concerns about the Ordinary Form of the Mass from the Second Vatican Council. It is one thing to express concerns with the current state of the liturgy, which of itself is a focused matter, capable of reconsideration, organic developments, and the exercise of legitimate options. But it is another matter to enter into a dispute with an entire Ecumenical Council, a Council that considered many things of varying theological weights and issued two dogmatic constitutions. While no new dogmas were proposed, Lumen Gentium (on the Church) and Dei Verbum (on Sacred Scripture) were important reaffirmations of the Church’s teaching regarding what are some disputed matters today.

Whether the perception is fair or not, many who favor the TLM are seen as repudiating the Second Vatican Council in general. Allowing such a perception to continue takes the legitimate discussion of liturgical concerns down a lot of rabbit holes that broaden the conversation into unnecessarily wider ideological categories (such as right vs. left, new vs. old, progressive vs. antiquarian, etc.). It also lights up other more serious matters such as ecclesiology, authority, sacramental theology, and so forth. We who love liturgical tradition would do well to focus the discussion on liturgical matters and leave other theological concerns about the Council  (if we have them at all (many of us do not)) for other times.  Further, recourse to the actual Council documents is both salutary and necessary in order to enhance ongoing liturgical excellence.

II. History – In terms of decoupling the Ordinary Form from the Council it is also helpful to recall some history that most of us know, but tend to underemphasize.

1. The “Liturgical Movement” had been underway for almost 60 years prior to the Second Vatican Council. Most liturgists fix the date of 1909 and the Malines Conference as the official beginning of the Liturgical Movement that sought to address liturgical disputes and concerns that had been brewing for centuries. Some of the concerns were very understandable: a cluttered calendar and related complexities such as multiple Collects and observances.  It’s hard to doubt that the increasing notion of “modernity” likely influenced desires for change in a more problematic way and that this idea grew through mid-century.

2. Even before 1906, Pope Pius X began an overhaul of the Breviary as he saw fit. More on that here: Strange Moments in Liturgical History

3. Then came the two World Wars. But despite that, liturgists were still meeting and writing.

4. Things started to get official in the mid-forties. The Sectio Historica of the Sacred Congregation of Rites formally commenced the work of reform in 1946 with a Promemoria intorno alla riforma liturgica. This was presented to Pope Pius XII in May. With papal approval, Austrian Redemptorist Joseph Löw began to draft a plan for a general reform. This was completed at the end of 1948 and published the following year as Memoria sulla riforma liturgica. A papal commission for liturgical reform was established in 1946, but it was May 1948 before its members were appointed. [Annibale] Bugnini, its secretary, … observes that it “worked in absolute secrecy” and enjoyed the “full confidence of the Pope” [Alcuin Reid, The Organic Development of the Liturgy, p. 150-151].

5. So note: nothing less than a papal commission was already beginning the work to set forth a plan for a “general reform” of the Liturgy. And note, too, the coming to the fore of one A. Bugnini.

6. The commission came out rather quickly with the overhaul of the Holy Week Liturgies in 1951. While well received by most, the changes were sweeping. Even more, they set forth some problematic principles later critiqued by Louis Boyer and others, including Alcuin Reid.

7. Among the shifts in principles that developed through the 1940s and 50s, was a tendency to emphasize the needs of “modern man” (as if we were some new sort of species) and to heavily weight antiquity over legitimate developments from other ages, especially the Medieval period.  Joseph Jungmann, S.J., though having authored a well-researched study of liturgical history in The Mass of the Roman Rite, tilted heavily in other works toward the ancient liturgy. Jungmann became very influential. And though Pope Pius XII warned of “antiquarianism” in Mediator Dei, the balance decidedly shifted there anyway through the 1950s and beyond.

8. Finally came the Second Vatican Council. The output of the papal commission for general reform was taken into the Council process largely “as is” and support for it expanded.

I do not in any way affirm all these. I simply note them and point out that they were under way well before the Council.

III. All of this leads to the focal question: If there had been no Second Vatican Council would we still have witnessed a significant change in the Mass and its celebration?  The answer would seem to be yes. As I have tried to show, things were already advancing quite rapidly prior to 1960 and would likely have continued apace. While the Council may have infused a widespread notion of “aggiornamento” that added rapidity and the expectation of change, the Liturgical Movement, for better or worse, was already moving along quite rapidly and deeply and would likely have continued to do so.

Clearly, I speculate here. But, frankly, so do those who would dispute the answer. None of us can really know for sure what would have happened in an alternate universe, absent the Council. However, some significant overhaul of the liturgy seemed to be in the offing, for better or worse, Council or not. (Arguably, the Ordinary Form promulgated in 1970 is not the actual Missal of the Council; the 1965 Missal is. I’d like to review its elements next week and show that the changes in it fell far short of the changes that were ushered in with the 1970 Missal.)

My real point in raising this is to encourage those of us who love the TLM and other older forms to be careful to distinguish the Second Vatican Council from the Ordinary Form of the Mass. I encourage this for the two reasons stated above: first, a strategy that allows us to be identified (fairly or not) with the repudiation of an entire Ecumenical Council is an unwise strategy; second, knowledge of the history of the whirlwind 20th century shows that the relationship of the liturgical changes to the Council are more complex than generally appreciated by a simplistic “pre-Conciliar vs. post-Conciliar” mentality.

None of what I write should be taken to mean that the Ordinary Form in its exact specifications was inevitable, or that those who love the TLM are on the “wrong side of history.” On the contrary, we should see ourselves as a legitimate part of today’s liturgical diversity and should seek to influence the discussion today rather than returning so regularly to rehash a complex Council that occurred over fifty years ago. Decoupling our stance from an assessment of the Second Vatican Council is an important element in advancing the conversation today.

OK, take what you like and leave the rest. But as with any discussion on Liturgy, try to avoid personal attacks and campy simplifications. For the record, I celebrate both forms of the Mass and find pastoral blessings and challenges in each. But let’s avoid a combox discussion that generates more heat than light. Be of good cheer; we are in the realm of speculation, not fact. In terms of strategy, reasonable people will differ.

Here is an example of how the older “ars celebrandi” can help with either form of the Mass. Most of the advice given in this video could be easily applied to the new form. Some may dispute an overly rigid mannerism, but allowing room for personal adaptation, the principles here are helpful advice.