I was reading The Second Coming by William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), and found again one of the more insightful lines in poetry: The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity.
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the center cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty Centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
Critics have given no single exegesis or explanation of Yeats' imagery. What is the "widening gyre?" Who is the falconer? What does the falcon represent?
The lack of consensus among the experts gives me leave to propose my own interpretations, and the freedom to change my mind with every reading. As America's librarian Archibald MacLeish insisted, "A poem should not mean, but be."
The poem's title suggests that Yeats was thinking of the Christian expectation that Jesus will come again. This parousia will herald judgment day. Yeats confirms that the world is falling apart and he sees some apocalyptic vision on the horizon forecasting a new stage in human history.
The line contrasting the best and the worst captures the formula for disaster. Jesus saw it: "The children of this world are more prudent...than the children of light." Edmund Burke saw it: "The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing."
On the world's stage or in the church's sacristy politics today seems to be in a downward spiral. Too many good people are disheartened.
I do not want to be counted among "the prophets of gloom" with whom Pope John XXIII disagreed, but I think we are in one of those valleys which characterize certain epochs of human history, including the history of the Church. Coming off the heady days of Vatican II, the Church has had to struggle to implement the council's vision and spirit. Many members are tired, some are discouraged; still others are afraid.
I don't sense much conviction about the mission and ministry we reviewed at Vatican II. The excitement of celebrating new forms of liturgy, the exhilaration of seeing Catholics and Protestants in friendly dialogue, the enthusiasm of lay involvement in Church ministry, the euphoria of the council's call to holiness re-animating the spirituality of the faithful -- all these prescriptions for aggiornamento have in my estimation slowed and become commonplace.
Jesus too sensed a malaise in his day: "We piped you a tune but you did not dance, we sang you a dirge but you did not wail."
Maybe the biblical visions and images of apocalyptic literature were devised to rouse a sleeping people to awareness and action. Maybe Yeats' "blood-dimmed tide" is an echo of "the sea tuned to blood" in Revelation 8:8. Maybe the beasts of Revelation 13 are mirrored in Yeats' vast image out of Spiritus Mundi in the desert sand.
Experts in poetry may well reject the spin I've put on The Second Coming, but I suspect Yeats would nod generous approval for I am convinced that he is saying, "We've screwed up the last twenty centuries. It's time for a second start."
Yeats' prophecy of the second coming reflects his belief that Christians might do better the second time around as they waken from twenty centuries of stony sleep.
Even in his day, St. Cyprian (200-258 AD) reminisced about an earlier time when "the faith of believers was warm with a fervor of faith still new."
I think this belief prompted Pope John to pray that his council might effect "a new Pentecost in our time," a new age when the best will be full of conviction and the worst will lack passionate intensity.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Truth Is Truth
Father Mark was scolded by a parishioner for quoting in his homily the observation of a wise and holy Buddhist. "Why, Father, would you quote at Mass somebody who's not even Christian?"
Himself a wise and holy man, Father Mark said, "Why not? Do we have a monopoly on wisdom? Don't you think truth is truth even if it is spoken by people of other religions?"
His complainer was not deterred. "But, Father, they're not Christian!"
"True," he replied, "most Buddhists are not Christians, but neither are they throwaways. God is with them, and Jesus loves them too. Christians don't have a monopoly on Christ."
During the course of its history the Church has often had to make course corrections about this matter.
For centuries the Church's attitude toward other religions came across as negative. In 1858 Pope Pius IX took a young Jewish boy, Edgardo Mortara, away from his parents and raised him in the Vatican because the boy had been secretly baptized a Christian. The pope thought it improper for a Christian to be raised in a Jewish home.
As late as 1958 Catholic liturgy described the Jews as "perfidious."
Prior to the mid 1960s Roman Catholics were not permitted to attend services in Protestant churches. For a time there were some Catholics who believed that only Catholics could go to heaven --a conviction which obviously excluded members of non-Christian religions.
Down through the centuries, however, the Church did affirm that Jews must not be forced to become Christian --see canon 8 of the Second Council of Nicea, 787 AD. Or Pope Gregory VII's acknowledgement in 1076 that Moslems and Christians worship the same God. Or Pope Pius XII's statement in 1951 that "there is truth and goodness outside the Christian religion."
At the Second Vatican Council the bishops corroborated these course corrections: "The Catholic Church rejects nothing of what is true and holy in these religions" (Hinduism and Buddhism), and further stated, "The Church also has a high regard for the Muslims" (Nostra aetate, 2, 3).
Gaudium et spes (#22) went further, insisting that the Holy Spirit works not only in Christians but also in the hearts of all men of good will, for Christ has died for all! "We must hold that the Holy Spirit offers to all the possibility of being made partners, in a way known to God, in the paschal mystery."
Some critics of this Catholic position fear that a sense of indifferentism will take hold and people will conclude one religion is as good as another. Christians in general, Catholics in particular, maintain that all salvation comes through Jesus Christ. We are not saying one is as good as another, but it is the conviction that all salvation comes through Christ which allows us to see Christ and the Holy Spirit operative in the lives of people of other religions.
Long before the Incarnation God loved and saved people. Those who came before the Christian era were not throwaways, nor are the millions of souls today who do not know Christ to be written off. God is busy in many places in many ways.
One of the basic directives of the Christian faith is "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you" (Matthew 7:12). This so-called Golden Rule was found in the teaching of the ancient Greek philosopher Pittacus who died some 500 years before Jesus. A form of this rule is found also in Confucianism, in Hinduism, and in Buddhism.
I do not propose that Jesus took the Golden Rule from ancient Greeks or Buddhists, but I do propose that the Holy Spirit of God was at work in the world before the Christian era began. God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, but God's love for and involvement in the world did not begin with the coming of Christ.
Father Mark found truth in the Dhammapada of Buddhism. Tomorrow he may find it in the Rig Veda of the Hindus or in the Qu'ran of Islam. He has found it all his life in the Bible. Truth is truth no matter where he finds it.
Himself a wise and holy man, Father Mark said, "Why not? Do we have a monopoly on wisdom? Don't you think truth is truth even if it is spoken by people of other religions?"
His complainer was not deterred. "But, Father, they're not Christian!"
"True," he replied, "most Buddhists are not Christians, but neither are they throwaways. God is with them, and Jesus loves them too. Christians don't have a monopoly on Christ."
During the course of its history the Church has often had to make course corrections about this matter.
For centuries the Church's attitude toward other religions came across as negative. In 1858 Pope Pius IX took a young Jewish boy, Edgardo Mortara, away from his parents and raised him in the Vatican because the boy had been secretly baptized a Christian. The pope thought it improper for a Christian to be raised in a Jewish home.
As late as 1958 Catholic liturgy described the Jews as "perfidious."
Prior to the mid 1960s Roman Catholics were not permitted to attend services in Protestant churches. For a time there were some Catholics who believed that only Catholics could go to heaven --a conviction which obviously excluded members of non-Christian religions.
Down through the centuries, however, the Church did affirm that Jews must not be forced to become Christian --see canon 8 of the Second Council of Nicea, 787 AD. Or Pope Gregory VII's acknowledgement in 1076 that Moslems and Christians worship the same God. Or Pope Pius XII's statement in 1951 that "there is truth and goodness outside the Christian religion."
At the Second Vatican Council the bishops corroborated these course corrections: "The Catholic Church rejects nothing of what is true and holy in these religions" (Hinduism and Buddhism), and further stated, "The Church also has a high regard for the Muslims" (Nostra aetate, 2, 3).
Gaudium et spes (#22) went further, insisting that the Holy Spirit works not only in Christians but also in the hearts of all men of good will, for Christ has died for all! "We must hold that the Holy Spirit offers to all the possibility of being made partners, in a way known to God, in the paschal mystery."
Some critics of this Catholic position fear that a sense of indifferentism will take hold and people will conclude one religion is as good as another. Christians in general, Catholics in particular, maintain that all salvation comes through Jesus Christ. We are not saying one is as good as another, but it is the conviction that all salvation comes through Christ which allows us to see Christ and the Holy Spirit operative in the lives of people of other religions.
Long before the Incarnation God loved and saved people. Those who came before the Christian era were not throwaways, nor are the millions of souls today who do not know Christ to be written off. God is busy in many places in many ways.
One of the basic directives of the Christian faith is "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you" (Matthew 7:12). This so-called Golden Rule was found in the teaching of the ancient Greek philosopher Pittacus who died some 500 years before Jesus. A form of this rule is found also in Confucianism, in Hinduism, and in Buddhism.
I do not propose that Jesus took the Golden Rule from ancient Greeks or Buddhists, but I do propose that the Holy Spirit of God was at work in the world before the Christian era began. God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, but God's love for and involvement in the world did not begin with the coming of Christ.
Father Mark found truth in the Dhammapada of Buddhism. Tomorrow he may find it in the Rig Veda of the Hindus or in the Qu'ran of Islam. He has found it all his life in the Bible. Truth is truth no matter where he finds it.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
God's Nickname
When Moses asked God what his name was, God responded, "I am who I am." In Hebrew "I am" is rendered yahweh, and we have by long standing tradition assumed that Yahweh is God's name.
Although Exodus 3:15 maintains that "This is my name forever, this is my title for all generations," the Bible reveals that God has been given a lot of names over the centuries, nicknames which enhance his mysterious character or confirm his almighty power.
For many Semitic peoples, El is the word for God. It is probable that El and Allah share the same etymology.
In several places in the Old Testament God is called "El shaddai," the God of the mountain. Sometimes the Hebrew God is designated "Yahweh Sabbaoth," that is, Yahweh of hosts. God is also called "melek" (king) and "adonay" (lord).
Among other nicknames are "eben" and "tsur" and "ḉela," all of which can be translated as rock. In Genesis 49:24 he is called "the Rock (eben) of Israel." In Psalm 18:3 Yahweh is "tsur," or "Rock of refuge." And in Psalm 71:3 God is "ḉela," a Rock.
Las
t Memorial Day I visited Riverview Cemetery in Aurora, Indiana, with the primary purpose of looking for a rock. I was told about an Indiana Civil War soldier who had fought on Culp's Hill in the battle at Gettysburg. Sometime after the war, Captain Alexander B. Pattison of Company A of the 7th Indiana Infantry went back to Culp's Hill and searched for the rock behind which he had found protection during the battle.
I do not know how he managed it, but he had that rock cut in half and part of it shipped to Indiana, where it now rests on his grave, in section "I'" of Riverview Cemetery, Auroa, Indiana. The minie ball hits are still plainly visible.
Pattison died August 16, 1906, at the age of 71. His burial record gives his occupation as banker, and cancer as the cause of death.
As I stood behind Pattison's rock of refuge, I felt sure that he had prayed Psalm 144:
Blessed be Yahweh, my Rock ("tsur"),
who trains my hands for battle,
my fingers for war;
My safeguard and my fortress,
my stronghold and my deliverer,
My shield in whom I trust,
who subdues people under me.
Our ancestors of the First Testament were quite vocal in expressing their praise for God's protection, for being their rock of refuge. My visit to Pattison's burial plot and the sight of his rock from Gettysburg reminded me of King David's song.
O Yahweh, my rock, my fortress, my deliverer,
my God, my rock of refuge!
My shield, the horn of salvation,
my stronghold, my refuge,
my savior, from violence you keep
me safe.
"Praise be Yahweh," I exclaim,
and I am safe from my enemies (2 Samuel 22:3-4).
I suspect it was in light of the Old Testament that Jesus gave one of his apostles the nickname "Cephas," the Rock, Peter. It also suggests Jesus had a sense of humor. Surely he smiled when Peter tried walking across the water and sank like a rock.
Pattison's experience behind the rock at Gettysburg, the biblical references to Yahweh as the Rock of refuge, and Simon's being called the rock upon which Jesus would build his Church --all suggest that I ought to thank God often for being the foundation and protection of the Church and of my life.
And I think it's all right if I use his nickname in that prayer, for I have a hunch God smiles when I call him Rocky. Of course I must wonder what his nickname is for me.
Although Exodus 3:15 maintains that "This is my name forever, this is my title for all generations," the Bible reveals that God has been given a lot of names over the centuries, nicknames which enhance his mysterious character or confirm his almighty power.
For many Semitic peoples, El is the word for God. It is probable that El and Allah share the same etymology.
In several places in the Old Testament God is called "El shaddai," the God of the mountain. Sometimes the Hebrew God is designated "Yahweh Sabbaoth," that is, Yahweh of hosts. God is also called "melek" (king) and "adonay" (lord).
Among other nicknames are "eben" and "tsur" and "ḉela," all of which can be translated as rock. In Genesis 49:24 he is called "the Rock (eben) of Israel." In Psalm 18:3 Yahweh is "tsur," or "Rock of refuge." And in Psalm 71:3 God is "ḉela," a Rock.
Las
t Memorial Day I visited Riverview Cemetery in Aurora, Indiana, with the primary purpose of looking for a rock. I was told about an Indiana Civil War soldier who had fought on Culp's Hill in the battle at Gettysburg. Sometime after the war, Captain Alexander B. Pattison of Company A of the 7th Indiana Infantry went back to Culp's Hill and searched for the rock behind which he had found protection during the battle.I do not know how he managed it, but he had that rock cut in half and part of it shipped to Indiana, where it now rests on his grave, in section "I'" of Riverview Cemetery, Auroa, Indiana. The minie ball hits are still plainly visible.
Pattison died August 16, 1906, at the age of 71. His burial record gives his occupation as banker, and cancer as the cause of death.
As I stood behind Pattison's rock of refuge, I felt sure that he had prayed Psalm 144:
Blessed be Yahweh, my Rock ("tsur"),
who trains my hands for battle,
my fingers for war;
My safeguard and my fortress,
my stronghold and my deliverer,
My shield in whom I trust,
who subdues people under me.
Our ancestors of the First Testament were quite vocal in expressing their praise for God's protection, for being their rock of refuge. My visit to Pattison's burial plot and the sight of his rock from Gettysburg reminded me of King David's song.
O Yahweh, my rock, my fortress, my deliverer,
my God, my rock of refuge!
My shield, the horn of salvation,
my stronghold, my refuge,
my savior, from violence you keep
me safe.
"Praise be Yahweh," I exclaim,
and I am safe from my enemies (2 Samuel 22:3-4).
I suspect it was in light of the Old Testament that Jesus gave one of his apostles the nickname "Cephas," the Rock, Peter. It also suggests Jesus had a sense of humor. Surely he smiled when Peter tried walking across the water and sank like a rock.
Pattison's experience behind the rock at Gettysburg, the biblical references to Yahweh as the Rock of refuge, and Simon's being called the rock upon which Jesus would build his Church --all suggest that I ought to thank God often for being the foundation and protection of the Church and of my life.
And I think it's all right if I use his nickname in that prayer, for I have a hunch God smiles when I call him Rocky. Of course I must wonder what his nickname is for me.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Liberal or Conservative?
I was asked recently, "In matters of Church, are you liberal or conservative?"
Since I did not know how my inquirer defined those terms, I chose not to choose. (A good apologist knows that the one who defines the terms wins the argument.) I replied, "I'm orthodox."
My dictionary defines conservative as "traditional in style or manner, avoiding novelty." Liberal is defined as "favorable to progress or reform."
With those definitions in mind I asked myself, "In matters of Church, which are you --liberal or conservative?"
As I read the New Testament I am struck by the simplicity of Jesus' teaching, by his emphasis on God's mercy, by his gathering of disciples who were neither philosophers from Greece nor lawyers from Rome but fishermen from Galilee and a headstrong Pharisee from Tarsus.
He forgave sinners, reprimanded the self-righteous, and warned his followers not to seek positions of rank or titles of honor but to be servants meek and humble of heart.
Jesus was stern: "You know how the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and the great ones make their authority over them felt. But it shall no be so among you. Rather, whoever wishes to be great among you shall be your servant; whoever wishes to be first among you shall be your slave" (Matthew 20:26-27).
Things changed over the centuries since Jesus taught and the Gospels were written. In the earliest days one was evangelized, baptized, and then catechized. Celibacy was not required of a bishop; forgiveness of sin did not require confession to a priest; liturgy was in the vernacular; bishops were chosen by the people not the pope.
Something changed when the Roman Emperor Constantine legalized Christianity, offered Church leaders money, houses, and titles, and built basilicas for Christian worship.
Something changed when more and more authority was acquired by the bishop of Rome and the successor of Peter became "the Supreme Pontiff," when bishops became princes and were called "Your Grace," when the priesthood became a career.
Something changed when the Vatican insisted on uniformity at the expense of diversity and unity, when the term "Church" became synonymous with the hierarchy, when the people became "the simple faithful."
Changes in the Church are inevitable, indeed required, if she is to be faithful to her mission in a changing world. But along with the necessary changes came novelties in liturgy (priests turned their backs on the people and spoke in a foreign language), in law (a metropolitan bishop is obliged to request the pallium from the Roman Pontiff, cf. Canon #437), and in papal power (choosing who can be ordained a bishop, or insisting that a non-infallible teaching is definitive and may no longer be discussed).
It seems to me then that a conservative is one who shies away from novelties and cherishes foundational beliefs and practices. A liberal is one who promotes progress, changes and reform.
A conservative Catholic would be one who wants to see his Church drop hierarchical titles such as "Your Eminence," celebrate Mass in the old style (i.e., in the vernacular with the people gathered about the table), return selection of the bishop to the local church community, accept married clergy, and reaffirm the Gospel values of poverty and service in the early Church.
A liberal Catholic would be one who wants to maintain clericalism, celebrate Mass in the recent innovative style (i.e., in Latin with the laity separated from the altar), intensify papal centrism, require celibate clergy, and promote titles, vestments, and practices of the Medieval Church.
My analysis transposes the common application of the terms liberal and conservative, so you can see why I am reluctant to choose one as a self-description. I have come to believe that conservatives are really liberals, and liberals are really conservatives. You perhaps do not agree with my assessment, but then he who defines the terms wins the argument.
Since I did not know how my inquirer defined those terms, I chose not to choose. (A good apologist knows that the one who defines the terms wins the argument.) I replied, "I'm orthodox."
My dictionary defines conservative as "traditional in style or manner, avoiding novelty." Liberal is defined as "favorable to progress or reform."
With those definitions in mind I asked myself, "In matters of Church, which are you --liberal or conservative?"
As I read the New Testament I am struck by the simplicity of Jesus' teaching, by his emphasis on God's mercy, by his gathering of disciples who were neither philosophers from Greece nor lawyers from Rome but fishermen from Galilee and a headstrong Pharisee from Tarsus.
He forgave sinners, reprimanded the self-righteous, and warned his followers not to seek positions of rank or titles of honor but to be servants meek and humble of heart.
Jesus was stern: "You know how the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and the great ones make their authority over them felt. But it shall no be so among you. Rather, whoever wishes to be great among you shall be your servant; whoever wishes to be first among you shall be your slave" (Matthew 20:26-27).
Things changed over the centuries since Jesus taught and the Gospels were written. In the earliest days one was evangelized, baptized, and then catechized. Celibacy was not required of a bishop; forgiveness of sin did not require confession to a priest; liturgy was in the vernacular; bishops were chosen by the people not the pope.
Something changed when the Roman Emperor Constantine legalized Christianity, offered Church leaders money, houses, and titles, and built basilicas for Christian worship.
Something changed when more and more authority was acquired by the bishop of Rome and the successor of Peter became "the Supreme Pontiff," when bishops became princes and were called "Your Grace," when the priesthood became a career.
Something changed when the Vatican insisted on uniformity at the expense of diversity and unity, when the term "Church" became synonymous with the hierarchy, when the people became "the simple faithful."
Changes in the Church are inevitable, indeed required, if she is to be faithful to her mission in a changing world. But along with the necessary changes came novelties in liturgy (priests turned their backs on the people and spoke in a foreign language), in law (a metropolitan bishop is obliged to request the pallium from the Roman Pontiff, cf. Canon #437), and in papal power (choosing who can be ordained a bishop, or insisting that a non-infallible teaching is definitive and may no longer be discussed).
It seems to me then that a conservative is one who shies away from novelties and cherishes foundational beliefs and practices. A liberal is one who promotes progress, changes and reform.
A conservative Catholic would be one who wants to see his Church drop hierarchical titles such as "Your Eminence," celebrate Mass in the old style (i.e., in the vernacular with the people gathered about the table), return selection of the bishop to the local church community, accept married clergy, and reaffirm the Gospel values of poverty and service in the early Church.
A liberal Catholic would be one who wants to maintain clericalism, celebrate Mass in the recent innovative style (i.e., in Latin with the laity separated from the altar), intensify papal centrism, require celibate clergy, and promote titles, vestments, and practices of the Medieval Church.
My analysis transposes the common application of the terms liberal and conservative, so you can see why I am reluctant to choose one as a self-description. I have come to believe that conservatives are really liberals, and liberals are really conservatives. You perhaps do not agree with my assessment, but then he who defines the terms wins the argument.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Signs of the Times
I admit I did not understand what Pope John XXIII meant.
In announcing his intention to call an ecumenical council, he said that the Church must "read the signs of the times." I initially rejected such an idea on the grounds that the Church could not learn anything from the world.
Only later did I remember that Jesus had reprimanded his contemporaries for failing to judge the signs of the times, a failure which kept them from recognizing who he was (cf. Matthew 16:3).
Pope John, however, did read the signs. He saw the aftermath of two world wars, the fragmentation which came from technology and science, and the struggle between materialism and spiritual values. He believed the Church could bring hope, peace and unity.
But before it could fulfill its God-given mission, the Church had to humbly read the signs of the times and re-assess how it could best respond with Christ's message and ministry. The Second Vatican Council was to be that re-assessment.
"The Church," as John often reminded the bishops, "is not a museum." It is a servant, responsive to the needs of those it serves. The Second Vatican Council gave us a wake-up call.
The Church is alive, and therefore subject to change. The Spirit breathes where it will, and we are by divine commission sent into the world. Consequently we have a divine mandate "to interpret the present time" (cf. Luke 12:56).
In the quest to read and respond the Church must not dilute the Gospel or compromise its mission. Jesus Christ is the same today, yesterday and forever. The Church has been given testimony from Christ and may not part from it.
At the same time the Church may not divorce itself from the cry of the poor, nor condemn the evils of the world from some ivory tower. Though its dogma does not change, the lanuage used to express it may have to. Practices appropriate to one age may have to be altered to meet the needs of another.
Jesus' admonition applies to us. To be authentic and loyal, we must determine the signs of our times. I offer some suggestions and questions.
1) Church membership is splintered. Some members boast that they are "traditionalists" wanting to return to Tridentine liturgy, put the brakes on "the spirit of Vatican II," and promote papal monarchy. Others are proud to be known as "progressives" wanting to develop multiplicity of liturgical styles, push forward with the Vatican II agenda, and promote collegiality in Church government. And statistics indicate still another group whom we might call "inactive Catholics." How long can a divided house stand?
2) The clergy are choosing sides too. "Vatican II priests" generally support the social teaching and spirit of the Council and want to promote lay involvement and eschew clericalism. "John Paul II priests" are skeptical about "the spirit of Vatican II" and focus on liturgy, clerical status, and a return to the Catholicism of the past four hundred years. What would Jesus do?
3) An explosion of electronic communication is an obvious characteristic of our day. Should evangelization, catechesis and preaching adapt to cyberspace, You-Tube, and Kindle? How?
4) Church scandals such as pedophilia and homosexuality among priests, cover-ups by the hierarchy, and mishandling of Church funds have affected the Church's image and undermined Church credibility among members and non-members alike. How do we restore confidence?
5) The shortage of priests continues to impact dioceses and parishes. Is ordaining married men a solution? Is it Eucharist versus celibacy?
6) There seems to be a growing schism --not so much a public or formal revolt against the pope and bishops but rather "a schism of indifference" in which Church members find Church leaders to be irrelevant, insensitive, ill-suited to serve. Who has drifted?
The handwriting is on the wall. We must not turn a blind eye. If we are too proud to listen and learn from the world, we jeoparadize the very mission we have received. And yet, having read the signs, we need the Spirit to guide our response. Let us pray for a new Pentecost in our time so that we correctly read the signs and then speak the languages of a multifacted world.
In announcing his intention to call an ecumenical council, he said that the Church must "read the signs of the times." I initially rejected such an idea on the grounds that the Church could not learn anything from the world.
Only later did I remember that Jesus had reprimanded his contemporaries for failing to judge the signs of the times, a failure which kept them from recognizing who he was (cf. Matthew 16:3).
Pope John, however, did read the signs. He saw the aftermath of two world wars, the fragmentation which came from technology and science, and the struggle between materialism and spiritual values. He believed the Church could bring hope, peace and unity.
But before it could fulfill its God-given mission, the Church had to humbly read the signs of the times and re-assess how it could best respond with Christ's message and ministry. The Second Vatican Council was to be that re-assessment.
"The Church," as John often reminded the bishops, "is not a museum." It is a servant, responsive to the needs of those it serves. The Second Vatican Council gave us a wake-up call.
The Church is alive, and therefore subject to change. The Spirit breathes where it will, and we are by divine commission sent into the world. Consequently we have a divine mandate "to interpret the present time" (cf. Luke 12:56).
In the quest to read and respond the Church must not dilute the Gospel or compromise its mission. Jesus Christ is the same today, yesterday and forever. The Church has been given testimony from Christ and may not part from it.
At the same time the Church may not divorce itself from the cry of the poor, nor condemn the evils of the world from some ivory tower. Though its dogma does not change, the lanuage used to express it may have to. Practices appropriate to one age may have to be altered to meet the needs of another.
Jesus' admonition applies to us. To be authentic and loyal, we must determine the signs of our times. I offer some suggestions and questions.
1) Church membership is splintered. Some members boast that they are "traditionalists" wanting to return to Tridentine liturgy, put the brakes on "the spirit of Vatican II," and promote papal monarchy. Others are proud to be known as "progressives" wanting to develop multiplicity of liturgical styles, push forward with the Vatican II agenda, and promote collegiality in Church government. And statistics indicate still another group whom we might call "inactive Catholics." How long can a divided house stand?
2) The clergy are choosing sides too. "Vatican II priests" generally support the social teaching and spirit of the Council and want to promote lay involvement and eschew clericalism. "John Paul II priests" are skeptical about "the spirit of Vatican II" and focus on liturgy, clerical status, and a return to the Catholicism of the past four hundred years. What would Jesus do?
3) An explosion of electronic communication is an obvious characteristic of our day. Should evangelization, catechesis and preaching adapt to cyberspace, You-Tube, and Kindle? How?
4) Church scandals such as pedophilia and homosexuality among priests, cover-ups by the hierarchy, and mishandling of Church funds have affected the Church's image and undermined Church credibility among members and non-members alike. How do we restore confidence?
5) The shortage of priests continues to impact dioceses and parishes. Is ordaining married men a solution? Is it Eucharist versus celibacy?
6) There seems to be a growing schism --not so much a public or formal revolt against the pope and bishops but rather "a schism of indifference" in which Church members find Church leaders to be irrelevant, insensitive, ill-suited to serve. Who has drifted?
The handwriting is on the wall. We must not turn a blind eye. If we are too proud to listen and learn from the world, we jeoparadize the very mission we have received. And yet, having read the signs, we need the Spirit to guide our response. Let us pray for a new Pentecost in our time so that we correctly read the signs and then speak the languages of a multifacted world.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Renewal Begins With "R"
I didn't plan it. There was no rhyme or reason for it. It was just coincidence.
But I found it amusing when I noticed in my stack of books on the coffee table that each author's name began with the letter "R."
First was Karl Rahner, the late German Jesuit whose dogmatic theology had a profound influence on the deliberations at Vatican II. Prior to the Council he had been under suspicion by Vatican authorities and forbidden to publish anything until first it was censored by Rome.
Serving as a theologian-resource for the German bishops, Rahner was asked to review various documents and provide input for their deliberations, especially on the Church, on Scripture and Tradition, and on the Church in the Modern World. He was named peritus (an expert) at the Council.
Next on my stack was a book by Rahner's friend and associate Joseph Ratzinger, a theologian likewise consulted by the bishops at the Second Vatican Council. He and Rahner were critical of the initial document on the relationship between Scripture and Tradition, and the German bishops asked them to compose an alternative text.
Church historian John O'Malley suggests that Ratzinger was "perhaps the most important of the younger theologians (he was 35) at the council." As advisor and peritus to Cardinal Josef Frings of Cologne, Ratzinger insisted that the Council's documents should reflect "the vital language of Scripture and the Church Fathers." Today he is Pope Benedict XVI.
The third "R" was Angelo Giuseppe Roncalli, who became Pope John XXIII, the initiator of the Second Vatican Council. I was reading Journal Of A Soul, the posthumously published diary which he kept from age 14 up to six months before his death.
I especially enjoy his final entry in which he reflects on his decision to call an ecumenical council. He wrote, "I was the first to be surprised at my proposal, which was entirely my own idea...we are now on the slopes of the sacred mountain. May the Lord give us strength to bring everything to a successful conclusion."
Timothy Radcliff was my fourth "R." He's the London-born Dominican friar whose preaching and writing have provided insight and encouragement for developing our spiritual lives.
His What Is The Point Of Being a Christian? explores the treasures of our Faith, and applies them to how we struggle to live in the spirit and love of Jesus. He laments the loss of debate in the Church, and suggests that "we must learn humility, to be docile before the wisdom and language of others' experience."
"R" number five is Ronald Rolheiser, a priest of the order of the Oblates of Mary Immaculate. He has written several books on spirituality, and both teaches and practices spiritual direction.
In The Holy Longing Rolheiser outlines the nonnegotiables of the Christian's spiritual life (worship, social action, and the centrality of Jesus' incarnation), and insists that a true spirituality cannot be divorced from one's every day life.
My final "R" is the Franciscan priest and speaker/writer of things spiritual --Richard Rohr. His ministry combines contemplation and action. He founded the Center for Action and Contemplation in Albuquerque, New Mexico to help people in social service ministries to maintain a healthy balance between prayer and activism.
Rohr's many books explore our Christian commitment and describe a plan for growth. I like Things Hidden - Scripture As Spirituality best of all. He has a way of looking at things from an unusual perspective, leading his readers to re-evaluate and re-commit.
I'm sure it's just coincidence that the books on my coffee table were all written by authors whose last names begin with "R." But I wonder if, in the light of that litany of authors, it's coincidence that renewal begins with an "R" too.
But I found it amusing when I noticed in my stack of books on the coffee table that each author's name began with the letter "R."
First was Karl Rahner, the late German Jesuit whose dogmatic theology had a profound influence on the deliberations at Vatican II. Prior to the Council he had been under suspicion by Vatican authorities and forbidden to publish anything until first it was censored by Rome.
Serving as a theologian-resource for the German bishops, Rahner was asked to review various documents and provide input for their deliberations, especially on the Church, on Scripture and Tradition, and on the Church in the Modern World. He was named peritus (an expert) at the Council.
Next on my stack was a book by Rahner's friend and associate Joseph Ratzinger, a theologian likewise consulted by the bishops at the Second Vatican Council. He and Rahner were critical of the initial document on the relationship between Scripture and Tradition, and the German bishops asked them to compose an alternative text.
Church historian John O'Malley suggests that Ratzinger was "perhaps the most important of the younger theologians (he was 35) at the council." As advisor and peritus to Cardinal Josef Frings of Cologne, Ratzinger insisted that the Council's documents should reflect "the vital language of Scripture and the Church Fathers." Today he is Pope Benedict XVI.
The third "R" was Angelo Giuseppe Roncalli, who became Pope John XXIII, the initiator of the Second Vatican Council. I was reading Journal Of A Soul, the posthumously published diary which he kept from age 14 up to six months before his death.
I especially enjoy his final entry in which he reflects on his decision to call an ecumenical council. He wrote, "I was the first to be surprised at my proposal, which was entirely my own idea...we are now on the slopes of the sacred mountain. May the Lord give us strength to bring everything to a successful conclusion."
Timothy Radcliff was my fourth "R." He's the London-born Dominican friar whose preaching and writing have provided insight and encouragement for developing our spiritual lives.
His What Is The Point Of Being a Christian? explores the treasures of our Faith, and applies them to how we struggle to live in the spirit and love of Jesus. He laments the loss of debate in the Church, and suggests that "we must learn humility, to be docile before the wisdom and language of others' experience."
"R" number five is Ronald Rolheiser, a priest of the order of the Oblates of Mary Immaculate. He has written several books on spirituality, and both teaches and practices spiritual direction.
In The Holy Longing Rolheiser outlines the nonnegotiables of the Christian's spiritual life (worship, social action, and the centrality of Jesus' incarnation), and insists that a true spirituality cannot be divorced from one's every day life.
My final "R" is the Franciscan priest and speaker/writer of things spiritual --Richard Rohr. His ministry combines contemplation and action. He founded the Center for Action and Contemplation in Albuquerque, New Mexico to help people in social service ministries to maintain a healthy balance between prayer and activism.
Rohr's many books explore our Christian commitment and describe a plan for growth. I like Things Hidden - Scripture As Spirituality best of all. He has a way of looking at things from an unusual perspective, leading his readers to re-evaluate and re-commit.
I'm sure it's just coincidence that the books on my coffee table were all written by authors whose last names begin with "R." But I wonder if, in the light of that litany of authors, it's coincidence that renewal begins with an "R" too.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
To Be Honest
I've come to believe that the most difficult virtue to acquire is honesty, and the hardest thing to speak is the truth.
Dishonesty in politics, religion, advertising, business, and social issues is so prevalent that we have become jaundiced and take deception for granted. Diogenes' lamp burns and still he searches for an honest man.
My dictionary defines honesty as "truthfulness, sincerity, freedom from deceit." A more in-depth look at honesty insists that honesty and dishonesty flow from one's intention.
A man could be telling the truth but if his intention is to deceive, he is dishonest. A woman could speak a falsehood but if she truly believes what she is saying and intends to tell the truth, she is nonetheless being honest.
Would it not follow then that honesty is devotion to the truth?
During his trial, Jesus told Pontius Pilate that he had come to testify to the truth. In a response jaundiced by years of military and political intrigue, Pilate asked with sarcasm, "What is truth?"
Had he been at the Last Supper, Pilate would have heard Jesus' unsettling claim, "I am the way and the truth and the life." In his defense Jesus explained, "Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice."
A mystic of the Middle Ages, Meister Eckhart, proposed that "only the hand that erases can write the true thing." I think he meant that to be honest one must assess and re-assess what he says in order to convey the truth.
Poet/novelist Stephen Crane addressed the difficulty and fear that accompany one's search for the truth:
The wayfarer
Perceiving the pathway to truth
Was struck with astonishment.
It was thickly grown with weeds.
"Ha," he said,
"I see that none has passed here
"In a long time."
Later he saw that each weed
Was a singular knife.
"Well," he mumbled at last,
"Doubtless there are other roads."
I think he recognized two things: truth is rare, and it is intimidating to pursue it.
If then I am correct that honesty is devotion to the truth, it follows that Christians can best acquire the virtue by devotion to Christ: "The truth will make you free...I am the truth...Learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart!"
And yet our pursuit of truth, even in and with Christ, is a slow trek. Seldom is it discovered at first glance, and impatience often curtails the chase. It is easier to accept another's word as truth than it is to engage in a personal, dogged quest for it.
I suspect this failure to research the truth and make it a personal discovery accounts for the apathy and infidelity of many Christians. Catechism answers may be sufficient for children, but adults need more. Unexamined truth is seldom convincing in the face of pressure.
Fundamentalists will cry "Foul!" They will insist that one must accept a truth as true simply because an authority has said it. Fundamentalists seek security. Faith-filled people, however, wrestle with the truth --they probe it, test it, and confirm it. Faith by its very nature is risky, and it is in the investigation of truth that it becomes truly believable and binding.
Jacob wrestled with God; that is why he is called Israel. Jesus wrestled with his Father; that is why he could say, "As you will, not as I will it." Countless saints have gone into the wilderness and struggled with confusion and doubt; that is why they are saints.
The Church no longer decrees that error has no rights. It is the freedom to be wrong that leads to the assurance of truth. How many discoveries and inventions came only after long periods of trial and error.
The hero in Morris West's The Heretic put it well: "I claim no private lien on the truth, only a liberty to seek it, prove it in debate, and to be wrong a thousand times to reach a single rightness."
It is the virtue of honesty that promotes the pursuit of truth and protects the pursuer from heresy. It questions without fear because it always seeks the truth. Authority has its place in proposing truth, but no authority can absolve a rational being from being honest. Honesty imposes the obligation of probing the truth and making it one's own.
I've come to believe that honesty is the most difficult virtue to acquire, and the hardest thing to speak is the truth.
Dishonesty in politics, religion, advertising, business, and social issues is so prevalent that we have become jaundiced and take deception for granted. Diogenes' lamp burns and still he searches for an honest man.
My dictionary defines honesty as "truthfulness, sincerity, freedom from deceit." A more in-depth look at honesty insists that honesty and dishonesty flow from one's intention.
A man could be telling the truth but if his intention is to deceive, he is dishonest. A woman could speak a falsehood but if she truly believes what she is saying and intends to tell the truth, she is nonetheless being honest.
Would it not follow then that honesty is devotion to the truth?
During his trial, Jesus told Pontius Pilate that he had come to testify to the truth. In a response jaundiced by years of military and political intrigue, Pilate asked with sarcasm, "What is truth?"
Had he been at the Last Supper, Pilate would have heard Jesus' unsettling claim, "I am the way and the truth and the life." In his defense Jesus explained, "Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice."
A mystic of the Middle Ages, Meister Eckhart, proposed that "only the hand that erases can write the true thing." I think he meant that to be honest one must assess and re-assess what he says in order to convey the truth.
Poet/novelist Stephen Crane addressed the difficulty and fear that accompany one's search for the truth:
The wayfarer
Perceiving the pathway to truth
Was struck with astonishment.
It was thickly grown with weeds.
"Ha," he said,
"I see that none has passed here
"In a long time."
Later he saw that each weed
Was a singular knife.
"Well," he mumbled at last,
"Doubtless there are other roads."
I think he recognized two things: truth is rare, and it is intimidating to pursue it.
If then I am correct that honesty is devotion to the truth, it follows that Christians can best acquire the virtue by devotion to Christ: "The truth will make you free...I am the truth...Learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart!"
And yet our pursuit of truth, even in and with Christ, is a slow trek. Seldom is it discovered at first glance, and impatience often curtails the chase. It is easier to accept another's word as truth than it is to engage in a personal, dogged quest for it.
I suspect this failure to research the truth and make it a personal discovery accounts for the apathy and infidelity of many Christians. Catechism answers may be sufficient for children, but adults need more. Unexamined truth is seldom convincing in the face of pressure.
Fundamentalists will cry "Foul!" They will insist that one must accept a truth as true simply because an authority has said it. Fundamentalists seek security. Faith-filled people, however, wrestle with the truth --they probe it, test it, and confirm it. Faith by its very nature is risky, and it is in the investigation of truth that it becomes truly believable and binding.
Jacob wrestled with God; that is why he is called Israel. Jesus wrestled with his Father; that is why he could say, "As you will, not as I will it." Countless saints have gone into the wilderness and struggled with confusion and doubt; that is why they are saints.
The Church no longer decrees that error has no rights. It is the freedom to be wrong that leads to the assurance of truth. How many discoveries and inventions came only after long periods of trial and error.
The hero in Morris West's The Heretic put it well: "I claim no private lien on the truth, only a liberty to seek it, prove it in debate, and to be wrong a thousand times to reach a single rightness."
It is the virtue of honesty that promotes the pursuit of truth and protects the pursuer from heresy. It questions without fear because it always seeks the truth. Authority has its place in proposing truth, but no authority can absolve a rational being from being honest. Honesty imposes the obligation of probing the truth and making it one's own.
I've come to believe that honesty is the most difficult virtue to acquire, and the hardest thing to speak is the truth.
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