Love Takes on a Cruciform Shape

Silhouette made from The Crucifixion by Pedro de Campaña (ca. 1550), downloaded from Wikimedia.

For those he foreknew he also predestined
to be conformed to the image of his Son (Rom 8:29)

During my first year as a volunteer catechist, I had a group of seventh graders for religious education (usually called CCD). I was teaching about love, and the children were getting slightly unruly. We were in a classroom of a Catholic elementary school. In a moment of inspiration, I spoke in a loud voice, "Do you want to know what love is?" And I pointed to the crucifix behind me above the blackboard. And their eyes were wide open.

I'm thankful that the Mass today was actually celebrated as the Solemnity of the Immaculate Heart of Mary (the priests at the chapel where the Mass was celebrated had permission to celebrate Mass as a solemnity instead of as a memorial). The second reading was from the eighth chapter of St. Paul's letter to the Romans. There Paul tells us that Christians are to be conformed to the image of the Father's Son, Christ Jesus. In that, Mary is a model Christian, as Simeon foretold at the presentation of Jesus in the temple (Lk 2:35-16), "Behold, this child is destined for the fall and rise of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be contradicted (and you yourself a sword will pierce) so that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed." The heart of Mary is united to the heart of her son, Jesus. In the Gospels, Jesus repeated tells us to take up our cross and follow him. Mary tells us, "Do whatever he tells you" (Jn 2:5).

Love takes on a cruciform shape. We are to unite our hearts to that of Jesus in His love for the Father. This is the vertical component. And we are to unite our hearts to that of Jesus in His love for our neighbors. This is the horizontal component.

Holy Communion, in Mass, takes on a cruciform shape. In Jesus Christ, as a Church, we become horizontally united in our worship together. We become united in Jesus, by the power of the Holy Spirit, in His sacrificial offering to God the Father. This is the vertical dimension.

Hence, the pattern of our lives begins in the Mass and is brought forth in our lives, so that we might imitate Christ in apape love. This is the source and summit of our lives, that which carries us off to Heaven in the chariot of loving fire.

The quote of Fr. Philip Neri Powell comes from his blog, Domine, da mihi hanc aquam!

My Soul Magnifies the Lord

Painting: Visitation de la Vierge by Jean Jouvenet, 1716, downloaded from Wikimedia Commons.

In some Bible translations, the Blessed Virgin Mary exclaims to her kinswoman Elizabeth, "My soul magnifies the Lord!" What might that mean?

A hint, I think, comes from Mary's question to the Archangel Gabriel in the Douay-Rheims translation, "How shall this be done, because I know not man?" Modern translations direct us to its meaning that Mary was a virgin and that she had not engaged in sexual intimacy with a man. This use of the word "knowing" is paralleled in the Old Testament when describing the procreative act—the marital act—such as "Adam knew Eve" in Genesis 4:1.

Such "knowing" need not be sexual intimacy. Indeed, we make the distinction in knowing about a person (e.g. when we have a passing knowledge of a person, meaning that we know he exists and some characteristics but not much more) and a knowing which implies a friendship. In a similar way, a person may know things about God, such as the belief that God is Triune, three persons united in one nature and being, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. But knowing about God does not necessarily mean an intimate relationship with God—a friendship with God.

In the Canticle of Zechariah (part of this morning's Gospel at Mass), Zechariah foretells the mission of his son, John the Baptist:

You, my child, shall be called the prophet of the Most High,
        for you will go before the Lord to prepare his way,
        to give his people knowledge of salvation
        by the forgiveness of their sins.
In the tender compassion of our God
        the dawn from on high shall break upon us,
        to shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death,
        and to guide our feet into the way of peace.

The Lord prepares his way by giving them knowledge of their salvation by the forgiveness of their sins. When the Pharisees and Sadducees approach John to be baptized, he asks (Mt 3:7), "Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?"  Knowing that we're separated from God—in a state of spiritual death—is a good place to start in repairing our friendship with God. "The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom" (Ps 111:10). Through prevenient grace, Mary had never lost friendship with God, but she must have realized the terrible brokenness of those around her who had a broken relationship with God. And it's likely that her awareness of the gift she had been given had brought about the feeling of gratitude and thanksgiving.

Turning back to Luke 1:46, in which Mary begins her canticle, "My soul magnifies the Lord," I think it's helpful to see other translations of the verse. NABRE has "My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord." NCV has "My soul praises the Lord." NASB has "My soul exalts the Lord." The Message Bible, which follows the philosophy of dynamic equivalence in translating (as opposed to formal equivalence or a more literal translation), has "I’m bursting with God-news." And interestingly, NIV has "My soul glorifies the Lord." Again, I think all of these are helpful.

But how could a soul glorify or magnify the Lord? There is nothing any creature can do to add to God's greatness. Rather, a soul demonstrates God's glory and greatness by allowing God to work within that soul, and thus providing an example of God's work. As is often attributed to St. Irenaeus, "the glory of God is man fully alive" or in context:

For the glory of God is a living man; and the life of man consists in beholding God. For if the manifestation of God which is made by means of the creation, affords life to all living in the earth, much more does that revelation of the Father which comes through the Word, give life to those who see God.

By the power of the Holy Spirit, the Word of God grew within Mary. She willingly received the Word, and in the Nativity of Jesus Christ, she gave what she received to the whole world. In using the Mother of God, the Theotokos, as a model, we can follow her example. By the power of the Holy Spirit and if we are well disposed, we may receive the Word in the Eucharist, allowing the Word to grow within us. And in participating or cooperating with God's grace within us, we can give this work within an outward expression by our charity, as Mary gave birth to Jesus.

Divine Liturgy

Image by Robert LeBlanc from blending Robert Cheaib's photo at Pixabay with the painting: Christ Crucified by Diego Velázquez

Whenever I read about the deeply flawed hierarchy of the Church Militant, I mentally insert this from Hilaire Belloc:

“The Catholic Church is an institution I am bound to hold divine – but for unbelievers a proof of its divinity might be found in the fact that no merely human institution conducted with such knavish imbecility would have lasted a fortnight.”

But of course the problem isn't merely the clergy. To borrow an anecdote about Chesterton: What's wrong with the Church? I am.

I think we all could do with a little liturgical catechesis. We first admit our wretchedness and need for help and healing: Christe eleison! Then we listen and absorb the Word within us (consuming Him!), so that united with Jesus Christ we may offer ourselves and our lives to the Father, all the while giving thanks for the transformation of our stony hearts into real hearts of flesh that we hope will beat in unison with our Savior. We really need to take the movement within the Mass very seriously, and then go forth out into the world: Ite Missa Est!

Man and Woman He Created Them

Image: The Creation of Adam (1510), from the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel by Michelangelo, downloaded from Wikimedia. The image and title are inspired by Pope Saint John Paul II's Theology of the Body published as Man and Woman He Created Them.

By sharing his story, Tom Hoopes has given me a gift. I've had a similar experience which I've almost always shared as part of the story of my return to the Catholic Church, but I've not been able to connect it well with the whole of my reversion to the faith. That is, this experience, which I know is a significant part of my faith journey, never seemed to fit well with with the rest of my journey. It's been a puzzle piece that never seemed to fit in with the rest of the puzzle of my life.

In early 1995, when I had already been long lapsed in the practice of my faith, I had a similar powerful experience. Of his experience (which is similar to mine), Tom Hoopes writes, "I didn’t see any visions, feel a physical sensation, or hear an audible voice, but I remember it vividly, and it was unmistakably him." Until now, the penny had not dropped, but now, in a concrete way, I see "it was unmistakably him." In pride, I might give my intellect all the credit, but in reality it was by the grace of God. I came to the realization and knowledge that contraception was immoral. God smiled upon me.

I was tapping away on my 386 while listening to C-SPAN in the background. And on the TV, there was a talk or forum on what we would understand now to be about LGBT rights. A man, who I think was a journalist, asked a question, something like, "if heterosexuals can do it, why can't homosexuals do it?" I don't remember exactly what the question was, but it set off a train of thought that brought me to the conclusion that contraception was immoral. My first thought was a humble one, and I think that this is important to note, since it signifies the softening of my heart to an encounter with the truth. In 1995, like most or many people of that time, I could have been reasonably characterized as a homophobe. Back then, I could never knowingly have had a friendship with a gay man. The thought of sodomy brought about only a visceral reaction and it was a strong one. "Icky" and "gross" are far too weak to express my feelings. But my first thought to this man's question was "he's right!" or "he has a point!" And so I questioned: why should I consider the homosexual act to be wrong? Why is the heterosexual act okay? I thought, is marriage that which "blesses" the sexual act, so that if we allowed homosexuals to marry, then the homosexual act would be okay? Intuitively, I dismissed that as an arbitrary logical move. So I asked, why marriage? (whisper: children). What is it about marriage which makes the heterosexual act morally acceptable? And I realized that the procreative aspect is the key to understanding why the heterosexual act within marriage is morally acceptable. And on the flip side, I realized that if contraception is morally acceptable then anything is morally acceptable—for once procreation is "logically" separated from the sexual act, all judgments on the morality of consenting sexual acts are arbitrary and visceral.

My thoughts were more primitive then, but under the guidance of the Church's Magisterium, the teachings of the Church, I've come to a more mature understanding of the meaning of human sexuality. Indeed, the Church's teaching on human sexuality has been a motive of credibility for me, evidence that through the Church, a divine light shines in the world. It is as the hymn goes, I once was blind, but now I see.

The Infant in My Womb Leaped for Joy

Drawing: Mary and Eve by Sr. Grace Remington, downloaded from Catholic Link.

Sister Grace Remington's drawing captures my feeling (today and most days). If I dare, if I could, I'd have Eve represent me as a repentant sinner in the drawing. A prayer starts, "O Jesus, living in Mary, come and live in your servants..."

But there is a similar picture that comes from Scripture. This event happens immediately after the Word of God becomes incarnate in the womb of Mary. The archangel Gabriel tells Mary that her kinswoman is six months pregnant, and Mary departs in haste to her cousin. This is called (in praying the Rosary) the Mystery of the Visitation. Raphael has a wonderful painting of this event.

Painting: The visitation by Raphael, 1517, downloaded from Wikimedia.

After the news broke on the Supreme Court's decision on Dobbs, I sent the following in an email to some friends (this by no means unique, I've seen similar published around the web):

Given that the majority on the court are Catholics (and the core of the majority opinion today), I wonder if it's mere coincidence that the opinion was released today, on the Solemnity of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. Even more, today's solemnity displaced the Solemnity of the Nativity of John the Baptist (which is ordinarily celebrated on June 24th). This is appropriate, as John said, "He must increase; I must decrease" (Jn 3:30). In Luke 1:39-44, when mother Mary enters Elizabeth's house, John leaps for joy in his mother's womb at the entrance of the newly conceived Jesus within the womb of Mary.

As mercy pours out of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, I thank our heavenly Father for all the gifts we've been given, including the gift of life, and for those who embrace it, the gift of eternal life in communion with the Holy Trinity. And I pray that He continues to rain down grace upon us to strengthen us for the upcoming battles, and that we unite ourselves to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. 

Because, I desire a change in my heart, I concluded with a couple of favorite passages in Scripture:

(RSVCE) Ez 36
26 A new heart I will give you, and a new spirit I will put within you; and I will take out of your flesh the heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. 27 And I will put my spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my statutes and be careful to observe my ordinances.

(RSVCE) Ps 51
10 Create in me a clean heart, O God,
    and put a new and right spirit within me.
11 Cast me not away from thy presence,
    and take not thy holy Spirit from me.
12 Restore to me the joy of thy salvation,
    and uphold me with a willing spirit.

Since today was a celebration of the Immaculate Heart of Mary, this morning's Gospel reading finished with the line: "[Mary] kept all these things in her heart." It's something worth pondering.

Trust Is the Coin of the Realm

Image: Enlargement of the 20-dollar bill, downloaded from Wikimedia

Around the turn of the century, I encountered a man who signed his forum posts with: “Trust is the coin of the realm.” It has captured my imagination, and I ponder over the truth of it. After a meeting with fellow Republicans, I blurted out, "yes, it's important to get the message out, but it's also important that people trust the messenger." Sometimes I surprise myself.

I've often prayed for a Great Awakening (a religious revival is a grand American tradition), but I've recently read an article about how church membership has dropped below 50% in America. It's worse than that. Besides the demographic implosion the West is heading towards, most children are rejecting the faith of their parents (even when these parents are deeply committed to their faith in practice, that is, these are not lukewarm Christians).

Now, it's all in the hands of the Holy Spirit, and we accomplish nothing without God. I take that as a given. I don't take that as an excuse not to try, but I recognize that my evangelization efforts are not about me. As Mother Teresa said, we're not called to be successful, we're called to be faithful.

Faith has two major meanings: it can refer to the teachings of Christ, what we believe, and it can refer to trust. Trust in God is faith in God. Insofar as we are close to God not only in orthodoxy but also in practice (Thy will be done), we are building up a trustworthy society. In an early Internet handle—"a hermit from Hudson"—I was announcing a temperament; I'm an introvert. That is, I found it tiring to be around people because I don't trust people. As fallen people, we are unworthy of trust. I find it amazing that other people trust so readily. Generally, I've found that on average, Christians are more trustworthy. But we are all prone to sin, and we wouldn't be able to help ourselves if it were not for God.

Still, Christianity as a religion (or a group of denominations, if you prefer) is not a magic cloak. Merely denoting oneself as a Christian, and attending church services every week (or every day) is not enough to protect oneself from the fires of hell. "Not every one who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ shall enter the kingdom of heaven, but he who does the will of my Father who is in heaven" (Mt 7:21). So conversion and repentance are necessary, and I personally find it to be a daily battle.

In America, this spills into politics, because as John Adams noted: "Our Constitution was made only for a moral and religious People. It is wholly inadequate to the government of any other." It makes sense. As a result of our nation's collective trust in God, God provides the grace so that we might trust each other. But it's easy to see that this trust has broken down. And that leads to a high level of polarization, which furthers the distrust of others.

To throw another quote in the mix, Solzhenitzen explained:

More than half a century ago, while I was still a child, I recall hearing a number of older people offer the following explanation for the great disasters that had befallen Russia: “Men have forgotten God; that’s why all this has happened.”

So I see the need for change. The temptation is to make it external: "you need to change, I don't." I think this is a huge problem right now. The left thinks the right should change, and the right thinks the left should change. Well, that should change. I'm not referring to ideology here. I'm talking about the initial proclamation of the Gospel: "repent!" And insofar as ideology is taken above the Gospel, that ideology needs to bend a knee to the Gospel.

So I see two things in tension. I recognize that God is Almighty, that He could, if He wills, to effect great change in America and in the entirety of what used to be recognized as Christendom. But in God's loving plan, He gave us free will, such that He will let us reject Him. In the contest of the soul of the country, it is the trustworthy God against fallen men with hardened hearts. Who will win? I recognize that if fallen men "win," they really don't win, but I have a certain confidence in the stupidity of mankind as species.

And here's a final problem. I've long recognized that we cannot use Christianity as an instrument to improve the country. I think this has been a problem on the right for religious conservatives, for a long time. That is, others see Christianity as part of the conservative ideological program. That is, Christianity is a truncheon to get everyone in line. In the film, The Book of Eli, the antagonist seeks the last surviving Bible in order to use it to gain power over others. And I think it's possible that there are those on the right, and even those who are professed religious leaders, who also think in this cynical fashion. That is, I see that this is one way in which all the messengers, the evangelists, are seen as untrustworthy. The Church is entirely God's, and it is His instrument on earth, not to make America better, but to bring souls into Heaven. That is, we should evangelize a person out of love for that individual, rather than salvation for the nation. It's a tricky problem for American Christians, because we know an important side effect of helping souls get on track toward Heaven, trust is restored as the coin of the realm.

Think about it. It took our Lord and Savior to get nailed on the Cross for us to get it through our thick skulls that He loved us so much. I'm thinking that martyrdom, red or white (i.e. death or persecution short of death), that is, dying to self, is probably the only way for one thick skull to really trust the unworthy Christian: "I do this out of love for you, not love of me." Anyone who says Christianity is an easy religion, or about certain happiness in this life, is a fool. Christianity is hard, so hard that we couldn't do it without God's help. 

(note: this was composed in early September before the prior post "Kiss of Jesus," even though it is published after it. As such, I think it reflects a darker state of mind, and I held off posting it until the storm clouds had dissipated somewhat.)

Kiss of Jesus

Painting: Christ in the Storm on the Sea of Galilee by Ludolf Bakhuizen (1695), downloaded from Wikipedia

Before Mass today, I received an incredible consolation from this passage of St. John Henry Newman, at time an Anglican writing in 1837, before his reception into the Catholic Church on 9 October 1845:

But in truth the whole course of Christianity from the first, when we come to examine it, is but one series of troubles and disorders. Every century is like every other, and to those who live in it seems worse than all times before it. The Church is ever ailing, and lingers on in weakness, "always bearing about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus, that the life also of Jesus might be made manifest in her body." Religion seems ever expiring, schisms dominant, the light of Truth dim, its adherents scattered. The cause of Christ is ever in its last agony, as though it were but a question of time whether it fails finally this day or another. The Saints are ever all but failing from the earth, and Christ all but coming; and thus the Day of judgment is literally ever at hand; and it is our duty ever to be looking out for it, not disappointed that we have so often said, "now is the moment," and that at the last, contrary to our expectation, Truth has somewhat rallied. Such is God's will, gathering in His elect, first one and then another, by little and little, in the intervals of sunshine between storm and storm, or snatching them from the surge of evil, even when the waters rage most furiously. Well may prophets cry out "How long will it be, O Lord, to the end of these wonders?" how long will this mystery proceed? how long will this perishing world be sustained by the feeble lights which struggle for existence in its unhealthy atmosphere? God alone knows the day and the hour when that will at length be, which He is ever threatening; meanwhile, thus much of comfort do we gain from what has been hitherto,—not to despond, not to be dismayed, not to be anxious, at the troubles which encompass us. They have ever been; they ever shall be; they are our portion. "The floods are risen, the floods have lift up their voice, the floods lift up their waves. The waves of the sea are mighty, and rage horribly; but yet the Lord, who dwelleth on high, is mightier."

It's strange to those outside the faith—and indeed, even to some of those who profess faith in Christ—to find joy in suffering. It's not the joy of suffering, but the peace found within the eye of the storm.

For an example outside of a religious context, I think Ross Viner's brush with fame, and singing on stage with Sting might help. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EJqQjMpgNcA

On stage, it's a moment of joy, but it's obvious that Sting wrote the song at a painful moment in his life. And even within the song of pain, Sting relates the moment when he smiles:

I took a walk alone last night
I looked up at the stars
To try and find an answer in my life
I chose a star for me
I chose a star for him
I chose two stars for my kids and one star for my wife
Something made me smile
Something seemed to ease the pain
Something about the universe and how it's all connected

In the moment of suffering, a person connects with transcendence and finds joy.

In 33 Days to Morning Glory, Fr. Michael Gaitley repeats a famous story told by St. Teresa of Calcutta: "At times you come so close to Jesus on the cross that he can kiss you. I once told this to a lady who was suffering very much. She answered, "Tell Jesus not to kiss me — to stop kissing me.'"

To be sure, consolations don't always come, and they cannot be expected, but sometimes, one can be so close to the Cross, that Jesus can kiss you. It's not the suffering that brings joy, but the intimate kiss of Jesus.