Community in Mission

In moral decline, both personal and cultural, the problem is that not only do we desire what is evil, we also stop desiring that which is good and holy. At the heart of desiring what is evil (or what is good, but to excess), are pride, greed, lust, and gluttony. Sloth and envy are more involved in no longer desiring what is good.

Sloth is a kind or sorrow or aversion to the good things God offers to us, involving everything from the life of prayer to virtues such as moderation, chastity, generosity, and forgiveness. Envy is sorrow or anger at the goodness or excellence that others manifest, because I take it to lessen my own standing. Thus the soul or culture that is in moral decline no longer desires what is good and even detests it.

No matter how you look at it, moral decline is an ugly business. Consider the following example of a cultural trend in which what is good (having children) is no longer desired by an increasing number in our culture. There was a column in the New York Post recently entitled More Women Choosing Dogs Over Motherhood. The article begins,

America’s next generation of youngsters should be called “Generation Rex.” If you’re wondering why playgrounds around the city are so quiet and dog runs are packed, a new report has an answer: More and more US women are forgoing motherhood and getting their maternal kicks by owning handbag-size canines … Data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention show that a big drop in the number of babies born to women ages 15 to 29 corresponds with a huge increase in the number of tiny pooches owned by young US women … “I’d rather have a dog over a kid,” declared Sara Foster, 30, a Chelsea equities trader who says her French bulldog, Maddie, brings her more joy than a child. “It’s just less work and, honestly, I have more time to go out. You … don’t have to get a babysitter.” [1]

Well, you get the point. The article goes pretty much downhill from there.

One hopes that when these women get a little older they will think differently. However, even among the married, more (as many as 20%) are choosing the childless route. Last summer there was a Time Magazine cover story about “The Childfree Life” and the web edition of the article was subtitled “The American birthrate is at a record low. What happens when having it all means not having children?” The article begins,

[At] 50, Angela Scott [who is married 24 years and intentionally childless, says she] is more than fine: she’s fulfilled. And she’s not alone. The birthrate in the U.S. is the lowest in recorded American history. From 2007 to 2011, the fertility rate declined 9%. A 2010 Pew Research report showed that childlessness has risen across all racial and ethnic groups, adding up to about 1 in 5 American women who end their childbearing years maternity-free, compared with 1 in 10 in the 1970s … [2]

We have discussed here before the demographic harm caused by low birthrates. But if you want to read a thoughtful article from a Catholic demographer, see the CARA Blog Post. Among his observations, author Mark Gray writes,

The effects of fertility decline are not just limited to the state budget and care for seniors. A future of fewer people year-over-year will also be one of perpetual economic stagnation or recession for all. Currently it costs a middle class family $245,340 to raise a single child to the age of 18 in the United States. If a couple has two kids that’s close to half a million dollars they inject into the economy. A skeptic might say they would have just spent that money on something else if they had no children. Perhaps but as most parents know having a child can “encourage” you seek out more income out of necessity (e.g., dads, on average, make more than non-dads and the combined incomes of a mom and dad outpace a couple with no children). As I write Japan is again in a recession. Downturns and anemic growth have become the normal way of life there for decades and will be so for the foreseeable future until they begin to grow demographically again (innovations and exports have been insufficient).

For the purposes of this post, I would like to return to the opening point: moral decline consists not only in desiring what is wrong, but also in no longer desiring what is good. Here are a few additional reflections on the problem of no longer desiring what is good (in this case, new life and children).

I. Children are a very great blessing. This is not only the biblical tradition, but also the instinctive assumption of Western culture (and arguably every healthy culture). Until about 1950, children were sought in number, valued, and appreciated. Even in the 1960s it was common to speak of pregnancy and birth as “the blessed event.” By current standards, family sizes were large. In my youth of the 1960s, it was common for families to have four or five children. And many of my older parishioners (those in their 70s and up) came from families of twelve or more. This was not only normal, it was considered good.

Parents and extended families shared in the raising of children, not because they had to, but because they wanted to. Getting married and having children was a central goal in life, a supreme blessing.

The Scriptures well attest that fertility was sought after. Children were considered a blessing and barrenness was one of the worst of curses.

1. Genesis 1:27-28 So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them. God blessed them and said to them, “Be fruitful and multiply; fill the earth and subdue it.
2. Exodus 23:25-26 Worship the Lord your God, and his blessing will be on your food and water. I will take away sickness from among you, and none will miscarry or be barren in your land. I will give you a full life span.
3. Deuteronomy 7:12-14 If you pay attention to these laws and are careful to follow them, then the Lord your God will keep his covenant of love with you, as he swore to your ancestors. He will love you and bless you and increase your numbers. He will bless the fruit of your womb … You will be blessed more than any other people; none of your men or women will be childless, nor will any of your livestock be without young.
4. Psalm 127:3-5 Children are a heritage from the Lord, offspring a reward from him. Like arrows in the hands of a warrior are children born in one’s youth. Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them. They will not be put to shame when they contend with their opponents in court.
5. Psalm 128:1-4 Blessed are all who fear the Lord, who walk in obedience to him. You will eat the fruit of your labor; blessings and prosperity will be yours. Your wife will be like a fruitful vine within your house; your children will be like olive shoots around your table. Yes, this will be the blessing for the man who fears the Lord.

II. Only recently has having children come to be considered burdensome. And even more than burdensome, many people outright fear having “too many” children. I often see young couples, especially the woman, visibly cringe when I suggest that they consider having more than two children.

There are many cultural reasons we have arrived at this place, among them feminism, dual incomes, women wanting careers, modern economic realities, the move to urban vs. rural settings, the rise of the consumerist mentality, the expectation of a lavish standard of living, and the advent of retirement plans (children used to be your social security, since they cared for you in your old age). Much of this has resulted in a contraceptive mentality and an almost irrational fear of having children.

But the point here is that this is all rather new. Most of us who are fifty or older remember a time when this thinking was not the norm.

III. Whatever the “cultural and sociological roots,” all this has led us to a sinful rejection of one of God’s greatest blessings: children (life). And make no mistake, this sinful rejection of the good of children is itself the result of sin. Our sin, our desire for what is evil, has now led us collectively to no longer desire what is good, in this case children.

How has this come to pass? Morally speaking, lust has led to a darkened intellect and to disordered desires wherein we not only desire that which is evil, but also fail to desire that which is good. Our collectively sinful, promiscuous, and disgraceful attitudes toward marriage and sexuality have collectively darkened our intellects and led to a voracious appetite for sex (lust) as well as a fear of what we know to be the intrinsic fruit of sex: children.

In our darkened minds, we have separated what God has joined. Sex is meant to be joyfully and seriously tied to marriage and having children. In the contraceptive revolution we severed those ties, declaring that there was no necessary connection between having sex and having children. Yes, we separated what God intended to be joined: sex, marriage, and family.

So, we have sown the wind and now we reap the whirlwind … of pornography, sexually transmitted disease, teenage pregnancy, single motherhood, rampant divorce, abortion, the profound confusion that is the celebration of homosexual acts, and every bizarre “gender-bender” ideology our collectively darkened culture can devise.

Meanwhile, the very fruit to which sex is meant to be joyfully joined is increasingly seen as an outcome more dreadful than anything just mentioned. It is an outcome so horrible that many women are willing to ingest a kind of pesticide that dramatically alters the endocrine system, kills the spark of life in them, and attacks the normal and healthy function of their bodies. It is a result so frightening that men are willing to be gelded.  And this leads us back to where we started: many women and couples would rather raise dogs than children.

The perversity of this outcome is difficult to overstate. Somehow I am reminded of Morticia Addams, the matriarch of TV’s Addam’s Family, who used to cut the roses off her rose bushes because she hated the beautiful blooms and preferred the thorns and half-dead look of barren rose bushes. (Thus, see above.)

And speaking of Morticia leads me to my last point.

IV. The Culture of Death – Low birthrates and childless couples are yet another outcome of what has fittingly been called the “culture of death.” In effect, this phrase, used frequently by both St. John Paul and Pope Benedict, describes a culture in which the death (or non-existence) of human beings is proposed as a “solution” to problems. The celebration of contraception as a “virtue” surely points to this mentality.

The myth of overpopulation has caused a lot of fears. Further, concerns about inadequate resources have also proven to be unfounded. The improper and/or inadequate distribution of resources (usually due to war and corruption) is problematic. But the death (or non-existence) of human beings is not the solution and in fact leads to other economic difficulties.

In the end, the “culture of death” is the result of sinfully selfish desires and fears. Jesus, while speaking of horrors to come in His own time, surely knew of our times as well and His words in this Lucan passage are prophetic of the current culture of death:

Luke 23:28-31 A large number of people followed him (on the way to Golgotha), including women who mourned and wailed for him. Jesus turned and said to them, “Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me; weep for yourselves and for your children. For the time will come when you will say, ‘Blessed are the childless women, the wombs that never bore and the breasts that never nursed!’ Then “ ‘they will say to the mountains, “Fall on us!” and to the hills, “Cover us!” ’ For if people do these things when the tree is green, what will happen when it is dry?”

Yes, such are our times, when a great number cry out, “Blessed are the wombs that do not bear and the breasts that do not nurse!” And the “green wood” of Jesus’ innocence has surely given way to the “dry wood” that is the modern lack of appreciation for the beauty of life, marriage, and sexuality.

These are good times for dogs, not so good for babies. Morticia (a name that means death) would be pleased.

The Gospel today surely announces a critical Advent theme: Watch! And while I want to comment primarily on the reading from Isaiah, the Gospel admonition certainly deserves some attention as well.

For it is too often the case that many today hold the unbiblical notion that most, if not all, are going to Heaven. But for many weeks now we have been reading parables in the gospels wherein the Lord Jesus warns us that some (perhaps many and possibly even most) are not heading for Heaven. There are wise and foolish virgins, industrious and lazy servants, sheep and goats; and today there are those who keep watch and those who do not.

And though many today like to brush aside the teachings on judgment or the teachings that some are lost, to those who do so and to all of us, Jesus says, Watch! In other words, watch out; be serious, sober, and prepared for death and judgment. Realize that your choices are leading somewhere.

Some have tried to tame and domesticate Jesus, but it is not the fake, reinvented Jesus that they will meet; it is the real Jesus, the Jesus who warns repeatedly of the reality of judgment and the strong possibility of Hell. At the beginning of Advent we do well to heed Jesus’ admonition and realize our need to be saved.

And that leads to the first reading from Isaiah, which rather thoroughly sets forth our need for a savior. Isaiah distinguishes five ailments which beset us, and from which we need rescue. We are drifting, demanding, depraved, disaffected, and depressed. But in the end, Isaiah reminds us of our dignity. Let’s look at each in turn.

1. Drifting – The text says, Why [O Lord] do you let us wander from your ways, and harden our hearts so that we fear you not? Return for the sake of your servants, the tribes of your heritage.

It is a common human tendency to wander or drift. It is a rarer thing for people to reject God all of a sudden, especially if they were raised with some faith. Rather, what usually happens is that we just drift away, wander off course. It is like the captain or pilot of a boat who stops paying close attention. Soon enough the boat is farther and farther off course. At first things are not noticed, but the cumulative effect is that the boat is now headed in the wrong direction. He did not suddenly turn the helm and shift 180 degrees, he just stopped paying attention and drifted … and then drifted some more.

And so it is with some of us who may wonder how we got so far off course. I talk with many people who have left the Church and so many of them cannot point to an incident or moment when they walked out of Church and said, “I’ll never come back here.” It is usually just that they drifted away, fell away from the practice of the faith. They missed a Sunday here or there and, little by little, missing Mass became the norm. Maybe they moved to a new city and never got around to finding a parish. They just got disconnected and drifted.

The funny thing about drifting is that the farther off course you get, the harder it is to get back. It just seems increasingly monumental to make the changes necessary to get back on track. Thus Isaiah speaks of the heart of a drifter becoming hardened. Our bad habits become “hard” to break, and as God seems more and more distant to us, we lose our holy fear and reverence for Him.

It is interesting how, in taking up our voice, Isaiah, “blames” God for it all. Somehow it is “His fault” for letting us wander, because He let us do it.

It is true that God has made us free and that He is very serious about respecting our freedom. How else could we love God, if we were not free? Compelled love is not love at all.

But what Isaiah is really getting at is that some of us are so far afield, so lost, that only God can find us and save us. And so we must depend on God being like a shepherd who seeks his lost sheep.

Thus, here is the first way that Isaiah sets forth our need for a Savior. And so, in Advent, reflecting this way, the Church cries out, “Come, Emmanuel! Come, Lord Jesus! Seek and find us for many of us are drifting.”

2. Demanding – The text says, Oh, that you would rend the heavens and come down, with the mountains quaking before you, while you wrought awesome deeds we could not hope for, such as they had not heard of from of old. No ear has ever heard, no eye ever seen, any God but you doing such deeds for those who wait for him.

There is a human tendency to demand signs and wonders. Our flesh demands to see. And when we do not see in a physical way, we are dismissive, even scoffing.

This inclination has reached a peak in our modern times, when so many reject faith because it does not meet the demands of empirical science and a materialistic age. If something is not physical and measurable by some human instrument, many reject its very existence. Never mind that many things that are very real (e.g., justice, fear) cannot be measured on a scale. What most moderns are really about doing is more specific: rejecting God and the demands of faith. “Since we cannot see Him with our eyes, He is not there and thus we may do as we please.”

Isaiah gives voice to the human demand to see on our own terms. We first demand signs and wonders; then we will believe. It is almost as though we are saying to God, “Force me to believe in you,” or “Make everything so certain that I don’t really have to walk by faith.”

Many of us look back to the miracles of the Scriptures and think, “If I saw that, I would believe.” But faith is not so simple. For many who did see miracles (e.g., the Hebrew people in the desert), they saw but still gave way to doubt. Many who saw Jesus work miracles fled at the first sign of trouble or when He said something that displeased them.

Our flesh demands to see. But, in the end, even after seeing it usually refuses to believe.

Further, God does not usually do the “biggie-wow” things to overwhelm us. Satan does overwhelm us. But God is a quiet and persistent lover, who works in us respectfully and delicately—if we let him. It is Satan who roars at us with temptation, fear, and sheer volume, so that we are distracted and confused. God more often is that still, small voice speaking from the depth of our heart.

Thus the Lord, speaking through Isaiah, warns us of this second ailment: the demand for signs and wonders. Our rebellious flesh pouts and draws back in resentful rebellion.

Thus we need a Savior to give us new hearts and minds, attuned to the small, still voice of God in a strident world. And so in Advent, reflecting thus, the Church cries out, “Come, Emmanuel. Come, Lord Jesus! Calm our souls and let us find you in the small, daily things.”

3. Depraved – The text says, Would that you might meet us doing right, that we were mindful of you in our ways! Behold, you are angry, and we are sinful; all of us have become like unclean people.

The word depraved comes from the Latin pravitas, meaning crooked or deformed. It means to be lacking what we ought to have. Hence, the Lord, through Isaiah, describes our deformed state in the following ways. We are

A. Unthinking – The text says that we are “unmindful” of God. Indeed our minds are very weak and we can go for long periods so turned in on ourselves that we barely, if ever, think of God. Our thoughts are wholly focused on things that are passing, and almost wholly forgetful of God and Heaven, which remain forever. It is so easy for our senseless minds to be darkened. Our culture too has “kicked God to the curb” and thus there are even fewer reminders of Him than in previous generations. We desperately need God to save us and to give us new minds. Come, Lord Jesus!

B. Unhappy – The text says of God, you are angry. But, we need to remember that the “wrath of God” is more in us than in God. God’s anger is His passion to set things right. But God is not moody or prone to egotistical rage. More often than not, it is we who project our own unhappiness and anger on God. The “Wrath of God” is our experience of the total incompatibility of our sinful state before the holiness of God. God does not lose His temper or fly into a rage; He does not lose His serenity. It is we who are unhappy, angry, egotistical, scornful, etc. We need God to give us new hearts. Come, Lord Jesus!

C. Undistinguished – The text says, we are sinful; all of us have become like unclean people. We are called to be holy, that is, “set apart” and distinguished from the sinful world around us. But too often we are indistinguishable. We do not shine forth like lights in the darkness; we seem little different than the pagan world around us. We divorce, fornicate, fail to forgive, support contraception and abortion, fail the poor, etc., in numbers akin to secular people, who do not know God. We do not seem joyful, serene, or alive. We look just like “everybody else.” Our main goal seems to be to “fit in.” Save us, O Lord, from our mediocrity and fear. Come, Lord Jesus!

4. Disaffected – The text says, There is none who calls upon your name, who rouses himself to cling to you; for you have hidden your face from us and have delivered us up to our guilt.

In other words we, collectively speaking, have no passion for God. We get all worked up about politics, sports, the lottery, TV shows, etc. But when it comes to God, many can barely rouse themselves enough to pray, go to Church, or read Scripture. We find time for everything else, but God can wait.

Here, too, Isaiah gives voice to the human tendency to blame God. He says (i.e., we say) God has hidden his face. But God has not moved. If you can’t see God, guess who turned away? If you’re not as close to God as you used to be, guess who moved?

Our hearts and our priorities are messed up. We need a savior to give us new hearts, greater love, and better priorities and desires. Come, Lord Jesus!

5. Depressed – The text says, All our good deeds are like polluted rags; we have all withered like leaves, and our guilt carries us away like the wind.

One of the definitions of depression is anger turned inward. And while Isaiah has given voice to our tendency to direct anger and blame at God, here he gives voice to our other tendency: to turn on ourselves.

Thus, our good deeds are described as being like polluted rags. It may be true that they are less than they could be, but calling them polluted rags also expresses our own frustration with our seemingly hopeless situation: our addiction to sin and injustice.

Ultimately, the devil wants us to diminish what little good we can find in ourselves and to lock us into a depressed and angry state. If there is no good in us at all, then why bother?

There is such a thing as unhealthy guilt (cf 2 Cor 7:10-11) and a self-loathing that is not of God, but from the devil, our accuser. It may well be this that Isaiah articulates here. And from such depressed self-loathing (masquerading as piety) we need a savior. Come, Lord Jesus!

And so the cry has gone up: Come, Lord Jesus. Save us, Savior of the world! We need a savior and Advent is a time to meditate on that need.

Isaiah ends on a final note and key of the song shifts from D Minor to D Major. And that final note is our

6. Dignity – The text says, Yet, O LORD, you are our father; we are the clay and you the potter: we are all the work of your hands.

Yes, we are a mess, but a loveable mess. And God has so loved us that He sent His Son, who is not ashamed to call us His brethren.

We are not forsaken, and in Advent we call upon a Father who loves us. And our cry, Come, Lord Jesus is heard and heeded by the Father, who loves us and is fashioning us into His very image. God is able and He will fix us and fashion us well. Help is on the way!

Here’s a magnificent Advent hymn that expresses so beautifully the longing of the Church for her savior to come. The second verse says,

Zion hears the watchmen shouting,
Her hearts leaps up with joy undoubting!
She stands and waits with eager eyes.
See! Her Love from heaven descending,
Adorned with grace and truth unending.
Her light burns clear her star doth rise!

Now come our precious Crown,
Lord Jesus, God’s own Son
Hosanna!

The video below features Mavis Staples and Johnny Lang. But they are singing the classic Bob Dylan song, “Serve Somebody.” The song is a sober reminder that no matter how big you or I may think we are, we have to remember that none of us is so powerful that, in the end, we won’t have to serve somebody. It may be the devil or it may be the Lord, but we WILL serve somebody. The choice is ultimately ours as to whom we will serve, but we will serve. No matter how big or powerful we may think we are, we’re really just a speck of dust. And even if we rule, we rule a mere anthill. We will serve somebody, we just have to decide whom.

What makes the video so interesting is that we see in the audience four former U.S. presidents. Each of these men was at one time the leader of the most powerful nation in the world (at least until recently). But even each of them will serve somebody.

None of us are “all that.” We are all headed for the grave and we go to one kingdom or the other, to one service or the other. The only theological distinction I would make to the song is this: those who ultimately will serve the devil will also need to bend the knee to Jesus. The last time I checked, the Bible says,

Because of this, God greatly exalted Jesus and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, of those in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father (Phil 2:9-11).

So although those in Hell will serve the devil, they will also have required of them an additional obeisance to the Lord.

You will serve somebody, whether you’re a president or just a mere local “high and mighty.” You will serve somebody … but whom?

Here are the words, then the video.

You may be an ambassador to England or France
You may like to gamble, you might like to dance
You may be the heavyweight champion of the world
You may be a socialite with a long string of pearls

Refrain:
But you’re gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
You’re gonna have to serve somebody
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the Lord
But you’re gonna have to serve somebody

You might be a rock ’n’ roll addict prancing on the stage
You might have drugs at your command, women in a cage
You may be a businessman or some high-degree thief
They may call you Doctor or they may call you Chief

You may be a state trooper, you might be a young Turk
You may be the head of some big TV network
You may be rich or poor, you may be blind or lame
You may be living in another country under another name

You may be a construction worker working on a home
You may be living in a mansion or you might live in a dome
You might own guns and you might even own tanks
You might be somebody’s landlord, you might even own banks

You may be a preacher with your spiritual pride
You may be a city councilman taking bribes on the side
You may be workin’ in a barbershop, you may know how to cut hair
You may be somebody’s mistress, may be somebody’s heir

Might like to wear cotton, might like to wear silk
Might like to drink whiskey, might like to drink milk
You might like to eat caviar, you might like to eat bread
You may be sleeping on the floor, sleeping in a king-sized bed

Before November ends and our consideration of the four last things (death, judgement, Heaven, and Hell) gives way to Advent preparations for the the great Second Coming that ushers in those things definitively,  let us turn our attention to a short, often-overlooked summons to Heaven that takes place in every Mass. It takes place in a short dialogue just after the prayer over the gifts and before the singing of the Sanctus. It is called the “preface dialogue” and it is really quite remarkable in its sweeping vision and heavenly call.

• The Lord be with you.
• And with your spirit.

• Lift up your hearts.
• We lift them up to the Lord.

• Let us give thanks to the Lord our God.
• It is right and just.

A fairly familiar dialogue to be sure. But to some extent, it fails to take wing because of the rather earthbound notion most moderns have of the Mass. Very few attending Mass today think much of the heavenly liturgy. Rather, most are focused on their parish Church, the priest in front of them, and the people around them. But this is NOT an adequate vision for the Mass. In the end, there is only one liturgy: the one in Heaven. There is only one altar: the one in Heaven. There is only one High Priest: Jesus in Heaven. In the Mass, we are swept up into the heavenly liturgy. There, with myriad angels and saints beyond number, we worship the Father through Jesus, with Jesus, and in Jesus.  In the Mass, we are swept up into Heaven!

More so than “Lift up your hearts,” a better translation of Sursum corda is “Hearts aloft!”

What is the celebrant really inviting us to do? After greeting us in the Lord, he invites us to go to Heaven! But remember, the priest is in persona Christi. Hence, when he speaks it is really the Lord Jesus speaking, making use of the priest’s voice. And what does the Lord really say to us in the magnificent dialogue and preface that follows? Allow me to elaborate on the fuller meaning of this text:

“Let your hearts be taken up! Come and go with me to the altar that is in heaven where I, Jesus the great High Priest, with all the members of my body render perfect thanks to God the Father! You are no longer on earth, your hearts have been swept aloft into the great liturgy of heaven! Come up higher. By the power of my words you are able to come up higher! Since you have been raised to new life in Christ, seek the things that are above where I am at my Father’s right hand. Come up now and enter the heavenly liturgy. Hearts aloft!”

Consider this writing of Cardinal Jean Danielou, reflecting on some teachings from the Fathers about this critical moment of the Mass.

The liturgy of earth is a visible reflection, and efficacious symbol, of the heavenly liturgy of angels. This unity of the two worships is expressed by the liturgy itself in the Preface, where it invites the community of the Church (on earth) to unite with the Thrones and Dominations, the Cherubim and Seraphim, to sing the angelic hymn of praise, the Thrice-Holy. [St. John Chrysostom] says “Reflect upon whom it is that you are near and with whom you are about to invoke God–the Cherubim. Think of the ranks you are about to enter. Let no one have any thought of earth (sursum corda!) but let him lose himself of every earthly thing and transport himself whole and entire into heaven … ” (Chrysostom Adv, Anon., 4)

Elsewhere, Chrysostom remarks that the Gloria in excelsis  is the chant of the lower angels. Even the catechumens are permitted to join in it. But the Sanctus is the chant of the Seraphim; it leads into the very sanctuary of the Trinity, and thus “it is reserved for the initiated, the baptized” (cf Chrysostom, Homily on Colossians 3:8).

The Chant of the Seraphim expresses holy fear. It expresses the awe felt by even the highest creatures in the presence of the Infinite, Divine Excellence. And this enables us to better understand the holiness of the Eucharist … (Jean Cardinal Danielou, The Angels and Their Mission, pp. 64-65).

Hence the Mass is never just the “10:00 am Mass at St. Joe’s.”  It is the heavenly liturgy.

Until recently, Churches were designed to remind us that we were entering Heaven. As we walk into older churches we are surrounded by windows and paintings that depict the angels and saints. Christ is at the center in the tabernacle. And all the elements that Scripture speaks of as being in the heavenly liturgy are on display, not only in the building, but in the celebration of the liturgy: candles, incense, an altar, the hymns that are sung, the Holy, Holy, Holy, the scroll that is brought forward in the Book of Gospels, the lamb on the throne-like altar, the prostrations and kneeling of the saints before the Lord. All these things are described in the Book of Revelation’s depictions of the heavenly liturgy. None of these things are in our churches or the liturgy for arbitrary reasons.

Yes! We are in the heavenly realms and the heavenly liturgy and so we see and experience heavenly things. Hearts aloft!

This video I made some time ago shows forth traditional Church Architecture as a glimpse of Heaven. The Latin text of the music by Bruckner describes how the form of the Liturgy and even Church architecture is set forth by God, who first gave it in elaborate instructions to Moses on Sinai. Here is the text, with my translation:

Locus iste a Deo factus est  (This place was made by God)
inaestimabile sacramentum; (a priceless mystery)
irreprehensibilis est. (It is beyond reproach)

Your grace and mercy,
brought me through.
I’m living this moment,
Because of you.
I want to thank you,
And praise you too.
Your grace and mercy,
Brought me through!

On this feast of Thanksgiving (here in America) we do well to ponder how we ought to give thanks to God. Indeed, how can one adequately thank God, who is the giver of every good and perfect gift? Is it really enough to simply kneel and say a prayer of thanks? Perhaps we should run to Church and light a candle, or visit some distant shrine. Maybe we should be doing the “Snoopy Dance” as we say over and over, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

But none of these acts of thanksgiving would prove adequate. God has been too good, has done too much, and is, after all, God.

Indeed, a great question went up in the Old Testament regarding this very problem of adequately thanking God. It occurs in Psalm 116, wherein the psalmist plaintively asks,

“What return can I ever make to the Lord for all the good he has done for me?” (Psalm 116:12)

To that point, the Jewish people had been accustomed to killing thousands of animals every day and burning them up in the Temple in order to give thanks and to atone for sin. But the blood of animals cannot atone for sin and neither can slaying even many thousands of them really give adequate thanks to God.

And thus the same psalm not only asks the question, but also provides the answer:

What return can I ever make to the Lord, for all the good he has done for me? The chalice of salvation I will take up, I will call on the name of the Lord! (Psalm 116:12-13)

And yet, in supplying this answer, the actual raising of the chalice of salvation could only be pointed to in the Old Testament; it could not actually be done. The lifting up of the chalice of salvation and the giving of adequate thanks could, and would, only be done by Jesus.

And this brings us to the first Thanksgiving meal. No, we are not in Plymouth Massachusetts in the 1620s. We are at the first, the true, the only Thanksgiving meal that can ever really render adequate thanks to the Father. That meal took place in the upper room, at the Last Supper that Jesus had with His disciples. We are told that He took the bread and, having given thanks, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to His disciples saying, “Take this all of you and eat of it, for this is my Body.” And  likewise, after the meal, He took the chalice and gave thanks, and giving it to His disciples He said, “Take this all of you and drink from it, for this is the chalice of my Blood, the Blood of  the New and eternal Covenant, which will be poured out for you and for many, for the forgiveness of sins.” He added, “Do this in memory of me.”

Yes, this is the true and the first Thanksgiving meal. Jesus alone is able to fulfill Psalm 116; taking the cup, the chalice, He lifts it up and gives thanks to God adequately for all the good He has done. Jesus fulfills the Scripture and gives adequate thanks.

You and I can never give adequate thanks to the Father, but we do have a member of our family who is so able: He is our Brother and He is our Lord; He is Jesus Christ.

At Thanksgiving, how can you and I give adequate thanks to the Lord? The answer is not on some far-off, distant mountaintop; it is as near as our parish church. We give adequate thanks to the Father by joining our meager thanksgiving to the perfect thanksgiving of Jesus in every Mass. We, as members of His Body (and He is the Head of His Body the Church at every Mass), fulfill  Psalm 116 when we, through Jesus our head, take the cup of salvation and call on the name of the Lord. Joining our meager thanks to that of Jesus, the Father is perfectly glorified and perfectly thanked. The Mass is the perfect thanksgiving; it was, is, and remains for us our perfect Thanksgiving meal and sacrifice.

Hidden Mass? It is interesting that in one of the Gospels chosen for the Mass on Thanksgiving, we have the gospel of the ten lepers. And you may have noticed (but perhaps not) that the whole gospel, which is about giving thanks, itself has the form of a Mass. For there are lepers who gather, just as we lepers gather at every Mass. And as they are gathered, Jesus is in their midst; Jesus is passing by. It is just as Jesus, acting through the person of the priest, walks the aisle of our church. And seeing Jesus, the lepers cry out, “Lord, have mercy!”  just as we cry out in every Mass, “Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy, Lord have mercy.” And Jesus, turning, gives them a word, quoting from Leviticus 13:2 “Go show yourselves to the priests.” We, too, are given a word from the Lord at every Mass. Jesus’ homily to the lepers was a brief one, saying in effect, “Go do what this reading says.” And at the end of the day, that is a pretty good summary of what every sermon should be, as Jesus speaking through our clergy says to us, “Go do what this reading says.” One of the lepers, realizing he has been healed by this word, falls to his knees to give thanks. And so do we fall to our knees to give thanks in the great Eucharistic prayer. And the word “Eucharist” is from the Greek meaning “to give thanks.” Jesus then bids the man leave, saying that his faith and his act of thanksgiving have saved him. Thus we are instructed by the priest or deacon at the end of the Mass to go and announce salvation to the world.

Yes, this gospel about giving thanks is in the very form of the Mass. And it is no mistake, for the Mass is the perfect act of thanksgiving, wherein we are joined to Jesus in the one perfect act of praise and thanksgiving.

Just a brief thought on Thanksgiving day: how shall we adequately thank God for all the good He has done? You know the answer: go to Mass and join with Jesus in the only adequate way of really thanking the Father.

Here’s a nice old prayer. But the Mass is even better.

Yawning is an involuntary action that causes us to open our mouths wide and breathe in deeply. It is involuntary, since it occurs even before we’re born: yawning has even been observed in fetuses as young as 11 weeks old. The remarkable 3-D video at the bottom of the post is of a baby yawning in the womb. I was struck at how, while watching it, I couldn’t help yawning myself!

I want to say that yawning is a very deep mystery. I have never heard an explanation for yawning that sounded very convincing. Honest medical professionals will shrug and say that no one really knows why we yawn or why it seems to be so “catching.” Though it does seem related to fatigue, not every who is tired yawns.

“Explanations” abound. Hippocrates thought that the purpose of yawning was to rid the lungs of “bad air” and bring in fresh air. Others have suggested that it helps get more blood to the brain. Still others hold that yawning increases blood oxygen levels and decreases carbon dioxide. But tests don’t really confirm these sorts of things. If you put a person in a room with a high level of CO2 he doesn’t start yawning. And it also doesn’t explain why babies in the womb, who breathe water, would yawn.

Some think yawning helps keep us awake, others that it relaxes us. Some say it helps regulate body temperature. But again, tests using EEGs to monitor brain activity, or tests monitoring body temperature just don’t confirm this.

Still others think the behavior is related to imitation, empathy, and social bonding behavior. But if that is so, then why do babies alone in the womb yawn? And why do most vertebrates, many of which exhibit little social bonding, yawn?

The current leading theory is that yawning helps to cool the brain. But if that is so, then wouldn’t I yawn a lot when I wear a wool cap indoors? And wouldn’t women who wear wigs or have thick hair weaves be inclined to yawning? But none of this seem to matter.

So you see, one of the most common human behaviors is deeply mysterious. We just don’t know why we yawn or why the behavior is contagious. It is one of life’s imponderables.

Personally, I think that whatever its physical causes, yawning is a behavior that helps us to be less hostile. As such, it is a gift of God. When I  yawn I am usually relaxed. And when I see other people yawn, even people who get under my skin, there is something humanizing and endearing in it. As I said above, I don’t think that it explains yawning in animals or in its merely physical causes. But for us, yawning helps to humble and humanize us. It tends to display our neediness and to show us as more relaxed and less hostile or arrogant to others.

Why do we yawn? One day we will have to ask God. And here is another mystery to ponder: “Do Jesus and Mary in their glorified bodies in Heaven yawn?” Yes, one day all will be revealed. But for now, live the mystery and accept a very humbling truth: no one knows why we yawn.  For now, just thank God for yawning. It is one of life’s little pleasures and one of life’s levelers.

I tell you, I’ve been yawning all through typing this!

As November winds down and Advent still looms, the traditional meditation we make on the four last things (death, judgment, Heaven, and Hell) is still operative. A classic writing by St. Cyprian comes to mind. It is a meditation on the fundamental human struggle to be free of undue attachment to this world and to have God (and the things waiting for us in Heaven) as our highest priority.

In this meditation, St. Cyprian has in mind the Book of James and the Epistle of St. John. Yes, surely these dramatic texts are present in his mind as he writes. Hence, before pondering St. Cyprian, it may be good to reference these forceful and uncompromising texts:

You adulterous people, don’t you know that friendship with the world is hatred toward God? Anyone who chooses to be a friend of the world becomes an enemy of God … Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you. Cleanse your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded (James 4:4,8).

The Lord Jesus, of course, had first said,

No one can serve two masters. Either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and Money (Matt 6:24).

And St. John also adds,

Do not love the world or anything in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For everything in the world–the cravings of sinful man, the lust of his eyes and the boasting of what he has and does–comes not from the Father but from the world. The world and its desires pass away, but the man who does the will of God lives forever (1 John 2:15-17).

Nothing is perhaps so difficult to imagine, especially for us moderns, as being wholly free of the enticements of the world. These texts, so adamant and uncompromising, shock us by their sweeping condemnation of “the world.” For who can really say that he has no love for the world?

We may, however, be able to find temporary refuge in some distinctions. The adulterous love of attachment and the preference for the world over its creator is certainly to be condemned. Yet surely the love for what is good, true, and beautiful in the world is proper. St. Paul speaks of those things “which God created to be received with thanksgiving by those who believe and who know the truth. For everything God created is good, and nothing is to be rejected if it is received with thanksgiving, because it is consecrated by the word of God and prayer” (1 Tim 4:3-5).

However, our distinction, though proper, cannot provide most of us with full cover, since we also know that the adulterous love of this world is still aplenty in our soul, however much noble love we also have. And the lust of the world is more than willing to sacrifice the good, the true, and the beautiful (not to mention God himself) for baser pleasures.

Only God can free us. And while some are gifted to achieve remarkable poverty of spirit long before departing this world, most of us are not ultimately freed from the lust of this world until God uses the dying process itself to free us. Slowly we die to this world as we see our skills, strength, and looks begin to fade as we age. And as old age sets in, we say farewell to friends, perhaps a spouse, and maybe the home we owned. Our eyesight, hearing, and general health begin to suffer many and lasting assaults; complications begin to set in.

For those who are faithful (and I have made this journey with many an older parishioner as well as some family members), it begins to become clear that what matters most is no longer here in this world, that our true treasure is in Heaven and with God. A gentle longing for what is above grows. For those who are faithful, slowly the lust of this world dies as we let God do His work.

Yet too many, even of those who believe, resist this work of God. While a natural fear of death is to be expected, too many live in open denial of and resistance to what is inevitably coming. Our many medicines and creature comforts help maintain the illusion that we can hold on to this world, and some people try to tighten their grip on it. A natural fear of death is supplanted by a grasping, clinging fear, rooted in a lack of faith and little desire for God.

And this is where we pick up with St. Cyprian:

How unreasonable it is to pray that God’s will be done, and then not promptly obey it when he calls us from this world!

Instead we struggle and resist [death] like self-willed slaves and are brought into the Lord’s presence with sorrow and lamentation, not freely consenting to our departure, but constrained by necessity.

And yet we expect to be rewarded with heavenly honors by him to whom we come against our will! Why then do we pray for the kingdom of heaven to come if this earthly bondage pleases us? What is the point of praying so often for its early arrival if we should rather serve the devil here, than reign with Christ.

The world hates Christians, so why give your love to it instead of following Christ, who loves you and has redeemed you?

John is most urgent in his epistle when he tells us not to love the world by yielding to sensual desires. Never give your love to the world, he warns, or to anything in it. A man cannot love the Father and love the world at the same time. All that the world offers is the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes and earthly ambition. The world and its allurements will pass away, but the man who has done the will of God shall live for ever.

Our part, my dear brothers, is to be single-minded, firm in faith, and steadfast in courage, ready for God’s will, whatever it may be.

Banish the fear of death and think of the eternal life that follows. That will show people that we really live our faith.

We ought never to forget, beloved, that we have renounced the world. We are living here now as aliens and only for a time. When the day of our homecoming puts an end to our exile, frees us from the bonds of the world, and restores us to paradise and to a kingdom, we should welcome it.

What man, stationed in a foreign land, would not want to return to his own country as soon as possible? Well, we look upon paradise as our country, and a great crowd of our loved ones awaits us there, a countless throng of parents, brothers and children longs for us to join them. Assured though they are of their own salvation, they are still concerned about ours. What joy both for them and for us to see one another and embrace! O the delight of that heavenly kingdom where there is no fear of death! O the supreme and endless bliss of everlasting life!

There is the glorious band of apostles, there, the exultant assembly of prophets, there, the innumerable host of martyrs, crowned for their glorious victory in combat and in death. There, in triumph, are the virgins who subdued their passions by the strength of continence. There the merciful are rewarded, those who fulfilled the demands of justice by providing for the poor. In obedience to the Lord’s command, they turned their earthly patrimony into heavenly treasure.

My dear brothers, let all our longing be to join them as soon as we may. May God see our desire, may Christ see this resolve that springs from faith, for he will give the rewards of his love more abundantly to those who have longed for him more fervently (Treatise on Mortality: Cap 18:24, 26: CSEL 3, 308, 312-314).

Amen.

As November ends but Advent begins, remember the four last things: death, judgment, Heaven, and Hell. Prepare to meet God eagerly; run toward Him with joy and confidence, calling on Him who made you for Himself. Death will surely come. Why not let it find you joyful, victorious, and confident—eager to go and meet God?

What is temptation? Temptation is the work of Satan to drag you to Hell. And Satan can read you like a book and play you like piano. Do not exaggerate his power, but do not underestimate it either.

Some of his subtlest work is done in the area of religious observance. There, he can cloak himself quite easily in the lamb’s clothing of piety, but, wolf that he really is, distort it, either through excess or defect, thereby destroying you with what is good. Beware what some spiritual writers call the “traps of the pious.” Consider some examples:

• He can discourage you with prayer by saying, “If only you would pray a little longer, God will give you what you seek.” But the deception is that if we can pray a little longer, then we can never have prayed enough. Thus though we pray, we only feel guilty and inadequate. And since we can never have prayed “enough,” prayer increasingly turns into a burdensome task; God becomes a cruel taskmaster demanding longer and more precise prayers. Or prayer becomes a superstitious endeavor whose outcome we somehow control by the length and type of our prayers. Jesus counsels us that the Father knows what we need and that we should not think that merely multiple words and pious actions are necessary. We may need to persevere in prayer over time, but God is not a cruel tyrant demanding endless incantations.
• Satan can take the beautiful practice of praying the rosary, or attending daily Mass, or other devotions and slowly incite in us a feeling of smug superiority, elitism, or pride. Gradually, others are thought to be less devout, even in error, because they do not do or observe what is optional or encouraged but not required. What is beautiful and holy is thus employed to incite ever-growing pride and cynicism. A most extreme form of this comes from those who take the beautiful and powerful devotion to our Lady of Fatima and allow Satan to set them against even the Pope and all the world’s bishops by claiming that they failed, either ineptly or willfully, to properly consecrate Russia. And thus one of our most beautiful and informative apparitions can engender in some people distrust of the Church and disunity from her, from multiple popes, and even from Sister Lucia herself. It is an astonishingly crafty work of the evil one to take what is good and religious and corrupt it in the minds of some.
• Satan can also take what IS required and turn it into a kind of religious minimalism, a way of keeping God at a distance. And thus he tempts some souls with the notion that Sunday Mass, a little something in the collection plate, and a few rushed prayers are the end of religion rather than the beginning of it. Such observances become a way of “checking off the God-box” and being done with God for the week, rather than a foundation on which to build a beautiful and ever-deepening relationship of love with God. Such minimal practices become a form of “God-control” for those tempted in this way; it is as if to say, “I’ve done what I am supposed to do, now God and the Church have to leave me alone. God also needs to take care me now since I’ve done what I’m required to do.” And thus the Church’s beautiful laws and the requirements describing the basic duties or foundation for a deepening relationship with God, become a kind of “separation agreement,” insisting on very strict visiting hours and specifying who gets what.
• Satan can take religious zeal and corrupt it into harsh and uncharitable zealotry. He can take a love for the beauty of the Liturgy, ancient or new, and turn it into a persnickety insistence on exactly the right ingredients, at the expense of charity and at the cost of ridicule, false superiority, and disunity. And thus, charity thrust aside, we say, “Just make sure you celebrate the liturgy the way I like it. Anyone who doesn’t like what I like is antiquarian, a knave, or an uncouth troglodyte and must obviously hate the Church that I love so beautifully …”
• Satan can take the beautiful love for the poor and corrupt it into an enslaving paternalism that locks them into dependency, or does not address their spiritual needs by speaking to them respectfully of their sins, or does not seek to deepen their spiritual and family lives. And thus the beautiful corporal works of mercy are either set at odds with the spiritual works of mercy or are considered adequate in themselves. Satan can send many to serve the poor, armed with half-truths and approaches that merely bandage deeper wounds without addressing them.

Well, you see, in a certain sense, any virtue will do. Satan can make use of any of them and will seek to corrupt all of them, even the religious ones. He will just as surely go to work in the life of someone in a church pew, as in a brothel or the gutter. No one is exempt from his work of temptation; his goal is to drag us to Hell.

What makes his work of corrupting virtue so insidious is the subtlety of his work, for he takes something that is intrinsically good and seeks to corrupt it, either by excess or defect, or to turn it into some sort of caricature of itself.

Virtues, of course, are meant to work in combination with other virtues that balance them. For example, charity should be balanced by truth and truth by charity. Without charity, the truth can bludgeon; without truth, charity can become harmful, patronizing, and wickedly affirming. Charity and truth are meant to balance each other and to work alongside other virtues in a delicate interplay.

One of Satan’s tactics is to take one virtue and isolate it from others. Beware of these subtle tactics of Satan, who disguises himself well in the robes of virtue. But they are detached virtues, virtues out of balance and proportion.

Beware the traps of the pious.