through his wounds we are healed

Good Friday of the Lord’s Passion

2 April 2010 – Rosary Monastery – St. Ann’s

Isaiah 52:13-53:12

Hebrews 4:14-16; 5:7-9

John 18:1-19:42

“On him lies a punishment that brings us peace,

and through his wounds we are healed.”

            Just think of the centuries of Good Fridays that have been spent pondering Isaiah’s prophecy and the events of Jesus’ sorrowful Passion! This is so and rightly so because today is not a simple day to remember and honor a fallen soldier no matter how heroic his personal sacrifice can be imagined. Isaiah vaguely and we clearly contemplate God’s self-offering for our redemption, such that sin and death might be destroyed and the promise of everlasting life with God, lost through Adam’s sin, might be restored.

Not that long ago, I was listening to a speech by a man who does not come from our Judeo-Christian tradition or background. A part of his talk was a tribute to one of the founding fathers of his country in which he expressed gratitude for this man and the sacrifices he had made for the sake of his country, but who in death had passed into oblivion, as he said. As far as my speaker was concerned, one of the founding fathers of his country had passed with death simply into oblivion. The observation brought me up short and reminded me of the blessed revelation which is ours in Christ, so eloquently formulated in the first preface for funeral Masses:

“In him, who rose from the dead, our hope of resurrection dawned. The sadness of death gives way to the bright promise of immortality. Lord, for your faithful people life is changed, not ended. When the body of our earthly dwelling lies in death we gain an everlasting dwelling place in heaven.”

            Oblivion? No, with death we do not dissolve, also because Jesus did not.

            Jesus’ suffering and death on the Cross to save us from our sins was not just a blip on the radar screen of history. That figure of speech (the radar blip), just like those of the pebble dropped in the still pond, sending out its little concentric waves wider and wider across the surface of the pond, or of the flutter of a butterfly’s wings (insignificance or non-intrusion if ever there was), does not render properly the idea or mystery we celebrate in Christ’s death. His birth, His life, His suffering and death demarcate time; they are cosmic in their earthshaking importance. We rightly call Jesus the “New Adam”. The “Old Adam” chose death for himself and all his descendants by choosing a lesser good than life with God through obedience to His command. The “New Adam” opted to be swallowed up in death, destroying death and restoring life.

“On him lies a punishment that brings us peace,

and through his wounds we are healed.”

            In binding ourselves to Christ, we take on responsibility for the life of the world. The scribes and Pharisees sought to destroy Jesus because they could not deal with the implications, of whom He claimed to be, of who He is for the life of the world. As we just heard Jesus say to Pilate in the Passion account we read from St. John’s Gospel:

            “Yes, I am a king. I was born for this, I came into the world for this; to bear witness to the truth, and all who are on the side of truth listen to my voice.”

            Good Friday’s somberness, its sobriety, comes not from our remembrance of the tragic loss of life in the midst of unspeakable suffering. We are sobered, we are moved on Good Friday rather by the fact that it was God’s only Son, Whom He did not spare, but delivered up for the sake of all of us. On the Feast of the Annunciation and on Christmas we bend the knee as we contemplate the mystery of God becoming Man. On that happy occasion we are confounded by God’s stooping down to us and taking on our nature. Here, today, we find ourselves as a human race caught up in something truly confounding: despite our choice of a brigand Barabbas, handing over the Holy One of God to an ignominious death, “…through his wounds we are healed.”

            Today we bend the knee before His Cross and rightly so. I wish you a quiet rest of today to give thanks for God’s love; the awareness of the part your sins played in nailing Him to the Cross should be allowed free play in your heart and in your thoughts today. Gratitude is the only proper sentiment.

“On him lies a punishment that brings us peace,

and through his wounds we are healed.”

The Blood of the Lamb, All Price Excelling

Holy Thursday – 1 April 2010

Evening Mass of the Lord’s Supper

Rosary Monastery – St. Ann’s

Exodus 12:1-8, 11-14

I Cor. 11:23-26

John 13:1-15

            Two weeks ago today, I found myself saying “Whatever happened to those long Lents of my childhood, where we panted almost from Sunday to Sunday, waiting for a bit of relief from the hard penance we were doing all week long of giving up candy?” Where did the time go this year? How is it that we find ourselves already here this evening entering into the Sacred Triduum? Not only time, but life is rushing by! Must it be so? Must life be so hectic, or depending upon your perspective, must it be such a drag, such a burden? Personally, I think not; I think we can seize the moment so to speak, and then time does in a sense stand still for us; it opens up for us; it blossoms and bears fruit; we can take stock, catch our breath, focus or contemplate.

            This is how I imagine the very first Passover in Egypt, as God was working something new for His people leading them out of slavery, and in this spirit I think the children of Israel even yet today can celebrate their yearly Feast of Passover, where they are taken out of life’s mix for whatever time it might take to read the passages, taste the bitter herbs and eat the Passover lamb. It is a time out of time.

In terms of the Christian life, I think there is some real value to seeing Holy Thursday, The Evening Mass of the Lord’s Supper, in that same way. Tonight time stands still as maybe it should every Sunday when we are at Mass, “…that on the same night he was betrayed, the Lord Jesus took some bread…” The Sunday Eucharist and Holy Thursday are time which should open up for us, time that should blossom and bear fruit for us. I don’t think it is exactly right to describe life, time and eternity, as either a straight or a curved line with highlights or signposts like pages from a photo album; no, life to the full is repetition, like the seasons which come and go, round and round, year after year. Life is also and more importantly those moments which come and are timeless really, moments, each one unique, which are rendered multidimensional by reason of our memories and experiences. These moments out of time are unforgettable; they stay with us always. We have them in ordinary life too. I can remember, for instance, the first time as a child learning to read, when I made the association with a word I had spoken out in conversation a hundred times, but then one day discovered the way it looks there on the page of a book: “between”, that’s b-e-t-w-e-e-n, “between”. Who would have guessed? That is the word, there it is, I’ve said it many times and now I see it… between. I know it is a poor comparison, but it is my best attempt to help you understand how worship here this evening can be for you, such that time stands still and you have an experience not only of the hour of Jesus’ Passion but of you abiding with Him for a moment at the table of the Last Supper, focused and with no thoughts of what comes next.

            The Evening Mass of the Lord’s Supper, this moment in and out of time, hits me each year as I wash feet. Maybe it has hit you while having your foot washed? Or maybe it has been during the First Eucharistic Prayer when for the one and only time in the year the words just before the Consecration change: “The day before he suffered to save us and all men, that is today, he took bread in his sacred hands…” Maybe it is the moving of the Blessed Sacrament to the Altar of Repose that sets your mind and heart free within a space which for you normally doesn’t exist, as you rush from one task, one challenge, one duty to the next? “And the Blood, all price excelling, shed by our Immortal King…” Take time this evening; cast the hectic out of your life if ever so briefly; rise above the everyday; listen and behold!

This thought about a timeless space opening up in time (let’s call it time and space set aside for meaning in life, or better, time and space for God and me) came to me as a result of a light-hearted exchange with a friend whom I suspect was laughing on the outside but crying on the inside, if you understand my meaning. I think he was feeling trapped in the relentless rolling on of time, not so much out of breath as just plain frustrated. To tease a bit and try to understand better what he was driving at I mentioned to him that our new dogs at the Nunciature seem to thrive on sameness, on regularity in their schedule. They are happy if there are no surprises or if you don’t want to say that a dog is happy then say that they certainly are at ease when everything comes their way in the same order and at the same time, day after day after day. Lots of terribly worldly folk seem to think that the element of surprise is what makes our lives as human beings different and better than our pets. For them extreme sports, sky diving and racing, may have a certain rush, which can be addictive, but I think has to do with chemicals like adrenalin more than it has to do with really being happy.

Where is happiness and where is life to the full to be found? I think it is in moments of focus and contemplation. I read a book recently, “Born of the Eucharist: A Spirituality for Priests”. It is a series of witnesses to the power and presence, to the importance of the Eucharist, of Jesus truly present, Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity, in the Blessed Sacrament. One of the articles was written by an older priest, who over 40 years ago had accompanied his bishop to the last session of the Second Vatican Council. His bishop sent this young priest by train from Rome down to southern Italy to experience Padre Pio. Being a priest, he was ushered toward the front of the church and had a close-up and clear view of Padre Pio as he celebrated Mass that morning. Mass took approximately two hours that day, but the young priest had no notion of the time as he assisted at the wonder of Padre Pio living the Mass with Christ. You and I are not in Padre Pio’s league, but there is something of his experience, the way time at the Altar opened up for Padre Pio that ought to be our experience too individually at Mass anytime, but especially on Sundays and most certainly on Holy Thursday.

            Years ago, families in the U.S. could be distinguished by whether they took vacation or not. I think this difference originated in whether you came from a rural or a city background. The rural model, in the case of my family background where on both sides our roots were in subsistence farming, was that we never went on vacation. When I was a child, we as a family, although we lived in town, followed that pattern. Other families, not from the farm, would scrimp and save all year long to go off somewhere, drive some place like to the Grand Canyon and back. I suppose the reason I never felt deprived or disadvantaged as a child without a yearly vacation trip was because I didn’t know any better. Moreover I think I was more than content, happy, at ease with the special moments in my life, moments out of time and out of the program, especially moments together with Mom and Dad. Most of these moments were not conversations; lots of them clearly etched in my child’s mind were kneeling next to them in church; sometimes it was doing a chore together. That is how all our lives are meant to be. The quality of life comes from interpersonal exchanges and not necessary ones filled with talk. The same is true of our relationship with the Living God, Who has revealed Himself to us in Christ. That is simply so because of who we are, made by God and loved by God, in communion with the Lord.

            To enjoy life only one thing is necessary. I need but enter into the mystery of God’s love. I can do it with a personal reflection during quiet time; I can make a visit to the Lord in the Blessed Sacrament; I can pray the Rosary together with the Blessed Mother as she recalls the great mysteries in the life of her Son, which brought about our salvation. I can actively and attentively participate at Sunday Mass. I can confess my sins and live aware of His Blood, the Blood of the Lamb, All Price Excelling, shed for me.

            Get unstuck with me in time for a moment or two this evening, as we wash feet, as we pray the great Eucharistic Prayer, as we receive Jesus, True God and True Man, in Holy Communion, and as we watch and pray with Him in the Garden of Gethsemane. It may be Holy Thursday again before you know it, but this one might be a milestone for you, a powerful moment with the Lord of your life, a moment out of time.

Not to Us but to Your Name give Glory

Palm Sunday in Passiontide

          With March running out on me, I had to fight hard this morning not to give in to the temptation to “steal” today from the Lord to do my taxes for last year and prepare my income estimate for the year in course. Lots of times I can spare myself such distractions or temptations, the waste of a Sunday reserved for the Lord, in this case Palm Sunday no less, by projecting a little plan for my reflection or by taking in hand that worthwhile book for the Lord’s Day. We need to be of mutual encouragement in that regard and help each other to fight all inclinations to cheat ourselves of this time with the Lord and use Sunday to “catch up”, when perhaps we have been guilty of frittering away no amount of time during the week.

Today I chose a simple strategy; I just wrote down all those Scripture passages which hit me during the course of this morning’s liturgy. In reading them again, I would say that in some cases they have served me well specifically for Palm Sunday, that is to further and deepen a bit my personal meditation upon these “great events by which we were saved”, and in other cases they started me on a response to situations of the last week where I was either without a response or not satisfied with the way I dealt with someone else’s question or lament.

          Of late, a couple people have complained to me that all the controversy in the news, both local here in Trinidad of a political nature and world-wide (read Irish-German-New York Times), has ruined their Lent. I’m thinking of one lady in particular, whose lament of the week came back to me during the reading of the Passion:

“Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me; weep rather for yourselves and for your children. For the days will surely come when people will say, ‘Happy are those who are barren, the wombs that have never borne, the breasts that have never suckled!’ Then they will begin to say to the mountains, ‘Fall on us!’ to the hills, ‘Cover us!’ For if men use the green wood like this, what will happen when it is dry?”

Only Jesus is innocent and upright; He is the “green wood”; we, sinners, we are the “dry wood”, which catches fire easily and burns. Any number of great spiritual writers remind us that although a reprimand, critique or attack might be undeserved and unjust, falsely attributed to us or to some other poor sinner, nonetheless, because we are deserving of reprimand for so many other things we have done wrong or failed to do, we should humbly accept unjust attacks as well. In the Passion Account from St. Luke, Jesus is bidding the women, who know and love Him, to put their tears to better use in making reparation for their own sins and those of their children. More than thirty years ago, a man I thought I knew quite well and who was a friend shocked me on one occasion by becoming terribly enraged in my presence over an injustice done to another, a stranger to us both. At the time I thought he was way too upset about yes an objective injustice. The other had big enough shoulders to carry this wrong, at least as far as I was concerned. My thought at the time was, “Who said this world of ours is fair?” Not only did my friend of long ago not seem to accept that, but neither could I say he aspired to the spiritual school that regardless of whether we might be innocent in a given case, the chastisement would do us good for another situation where we were truly at fault.

          In our “Irish-German-New York Times” scenario, the exaggerations, inaccuracies, prejudices and spiteful words should not stir our self-righteousness so much that we forget reparation must be made for terrible harm done and for terrible things covered over at the expense of the weak and defenseless. My penance can heal me, but it can also repair harm done by others elsewhere. Excuse the almost Pollyanna-ish air, but how could my Lent be better spent than in making reparation for the sins of others as well as my own? Why not suffer with Jesus, the Just One, He who was more wrongly accused then we or anyone we love had ever thought of being?

          Palm Sunday, as much as any other moment of Holy Week, paints us a detailed picture of Jesus, God’s Servant and His Son, in the hour of His ultimate trial.

“Am I a brigand that you had to set out with swords and clubs? When I was among you in the Temple day after day you never moved to lay hands on me. But this is your hour; this is the reign of darkness.”

“So, too, I set my face like flint; I know I shall not be shamed.”

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

“…and being as all men are, he was humbler yet, even to accepting death, death on a cross.”

The Passion of Christ eloquently brings to the fore the dimension of helplessness and the high drama involved in His Sacrifice to redeem the world. We need to review again our presuppositions regarding the image of Christ being swallowed up in death and thereby taking death’s fortress by storm, bursting its gates and leading forth its captives unto eternal life. Much of what Jesus experienced in His Sacrifice for our salvation must have been opaque; we need but think of His Agony in the Garden of Gethsemane. Indeed, there is not only pain in His Passion; there is terror on every side. Why should my path through life be disassociated from His? My hope is secure, yes, if I fight the good fight, if I run the race with Him. “So, too, I set my face like flint; I know I shall not be shamed.”

          Every chance I get in my work as a papal representative, I underline the notion that the Petrine ministry, which I share with the Pope, is that of strengthening the brethren. St. Peter’s function as a rock as handed down and lived out by his successors is illustrative of what that strengthening is all about. Red is the color of the Apostle Princes of the Roman Church, Sts. Peter and Paul: of Peter crucified and of Paul beheaded by the sword. Despite my own predilection for making of the Petrine office a wonderful thing, expressing itself in the words “binding the Church together in love”, we’re reminded that the Good Shepherd is the one who lays down his life for the sheep.

“Simon, Simon! Satan, you must know, has got his wish to sift you all like wheat; but I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may not fail, and once you have recovered, you in your turn must strengthen your brothers.”

Peter had his denials before cockcrow in that reign of darkness, but he did recover, he did turn again and strengthen his brothers. Could it not be that part of the lot which fell to Peter, part of his share in the Lord’s Passion, was that despite Jesus’ prayer for him, despite the mission which was his, that maybe the Accuser of the brethren assaulted him with memories and doubts about the fullness of his repentance and of the completeness of the Lord’s forgiveness for his having bolted and run on that tragic Holy Thursday night into Good Friday? Were Peter’s memories so healed that he had no regrets?

          The image of the Servant of God Pope John Paul II, eyes closed and burying his forehead in his pastoral staff surmounted by Christ crucified, comes to mind. He inspired awe in many because he embodied proximity to Christ crucified. We can’t all do that maybe just because our life history sets us closer to normal folk. There are many ways to be lifted up like Christ on the Cross; the light on the lamp stand or the city on the mountaintop can strengthen the brethren through clarity and teaching as well. I know any number of young men and priests who in their thirst for truth have found a port in the storm in the writings and homilies of our present Holy Father. He is indeed a bulwark, soft-spoken and steady. His gracious invitations to dialogue and to seek truth together may be non-threatening and reassuring to some, but it would be hard to deny that others come to a very different conclusion, just looking at the number of willful types who grind their teeth at the Successor of Peter these days in and outside the Catholic Church. That the crowd still shouts for the release of Barabbas should come as no surprise. We are thankful for this man of counsel and of peace who presides over the community of charity.

          I wish you a blessed Holy Week and space to be challenged to move closer to the unity willed by Christ for His Church, strengthened and bound together by the teaching and example of the Successor of Simon Peter! May your worship experiences this week be marked by that gravity and beauty which stems from continuity with the tradition in response to the challenge offered to us by Pope Benedict XVI! May we be aided in efforts to turn toward the Lord, to turn toward the Crucified One, Who gave Himself up for all of us!

          “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.”

On the Threshold of Passiontide

Reconciling Man and God – The New Deed

          When Isaiah prophesies reconciliation between God and His people he talks about a “new deed” on God’s part, something unprecedented to make one forget the past. There’s this same newness come to fulfillment in the Gospel account from St. John today as we witness how Jesus faces the question of the Law and the woman brought to Him caught in the act of adultery. The “accuser” is cast out and God in Christ reigns supreme, offering life to this woman. The fullness of life and truth is ours in Christ. We need to bind ourselves to Jesus and thereby opt to share in His victory. I cannot help but think that many folks would like an answer to the question, “But how concretely do I bind myself to Christ?”

St. Paul in Sunday’s Second Reading from his letter to the Philippians helps us understand and respond as we should to God’s “new deed” in Christ Jesus. He shows us how to take hold of Christ, be with Him and share His victory.

“I believe nothing can happen that will outweigh the supreme advantage of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For him I have accepted the loss of everything, and I look on everything as so much rubbish if only I can have Christ and be given a place in him…

“All I want is to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and to share his sufferings by reproducing the pattern of his death. That is the way I can hope to take my place in the resurrection of the dead…

“I can assure you, my brothers, I am far from thinking that I have already won. All I can say is that I forget the past and I strain ahead for what is still to come; I am racing for the finish, for the prize to which God calls us upwards to receive in Christ Jesus.” (Phil. 3:8-14)

There is much to be said, but let a few scattered thoughts suffice, consonant with the spirit of this penitential season! One of the most urgent needs of our age and of the Church in our age is to recover the good old-fashioned Catholic notion of making reparation: “All I want is to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and to share his sufferings by reproducing the pattern of his death.” In bygone eras making reparation for our sins and the sins of others was even in a sense child’s play. Apart from religious orders, whose very raison d’être was reparation for the sins of others especially of their own people, reparatory sacrifices in union with Jesus on the Cross were something which ordinary folk also took on and performed (spiritual bouquets are a familiar and lighter aspect of the same notion). The words “reparation for sin”, especially for the sins of others, ring foreign or hollow today. How many small children today have even an inkling of what little Blessed Francisco of the three children of Fatima (not yet a century ago) perceived in terms of the value and significance of assuming penances voluntarily and interceding for sinners in order that more might share in the glory of Christ’s resurrection for having tasted the bitter cup of His Passion? The last fifty years of Church history in many Western countries have something of rupture about them as the air of them has been clouded by an error or dumb refusal which in many cases deprives the Cross of its splendor and centrality in the lives of the baptized. “Crux Spes Unica”, apart from the Latin, is a motto needing no small amount of unpacking for most Catholic adults living today.

“I believe nothing can happen that will outweigh the supreme advantage of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For him I have accepted the loss of everything, and I look on everything as so much rubbish if only I can have Christ and be given a place in him…

          These days I’m reading the early chapters of St. Augustine’s City of God in which he takes pagan critics to task who chided Rome’s Christians for not choosing suicide over the shame of defeat and subjection (with all its indignities) by the invading barbarian hordes. There’s freshness in St. Augustine’s words about the inviolability of human life and real determination in his description of the Christian as one whose heart is set on the world to come. I find it appropriate and even enlightening reading in the face of much of the bad or critical press being heaped on the Pope and the best of our bishops these days. To my mind, in much of the mainstream media you only find negative criticism and refusal much as it was in the mouths of Rome’s pagans in St. Augustine’s time, men who survived the sack of the city by feigning Christianity and seeking sanctuary in the city’s churches, only to turn around and criticize their temporary fortune or reprieve in a vane attempt to gain the upper hand in the intervening chaos.

Pride and expediency, not even pragmatism really, would seem to be dominating sentiments which steer the course of many choices which are at best neo-pagan but perhaps better labeled nihilist. Pope John Paul II, of blessed memory, spoke of a culture of death, but perhaps there is value in focusing more on the spirit of alienation which closes eyes and hearts to one’s neighbor, denying our accountability for those at a disadvantage, and hence bringing about what ends up being a dog-eat-dog existence. It is not that long ago in the first stages of the world economic crisis that we were shocked and enraged by gigantic severance packages for the board of directors which escaped depletion where simple workers’ pension plans did not. Look around and see today if you can deny that the harm done to so many still hasn’t turned the hearts of some few and powerful to thoughts of justice, solidarity and charity. It would seem that the conspicuous consumption programs on TV still have their ratings, seemingly people are still repairing their homes for a quick sale and a big turnover (I thought the real estate bubble had burst?) and the poor sturgeon and the blue fin tuna are still on the endangered species list thanks to hearty appetites and the sky is the limit prices some people will pay for caviar and sushi… An acquaintance of mine has no complaints about being able to move his inventory of top-end champagne and I’m seeing more BMW’s in traffic than ever before too. What’s the matter, Father? Can’t I have my favorite Friday fish?

          You’ll notice I used examples far from my own tastes and inclinations (except perhaps the BMW). Even though I have no need, I’d be more apt to covet a flashy Blackberry or a luminous IPhone than I would anything culinary, raw or cooked. True enough, the godless hang on such things and God’s children should be able to use them with a certain detachment, while not looking down on those who are less fortunate. The point to be made in clinging to Christ and to His Cross as our only hope is another however.

“All I want is to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and to share his sufferings by reproducing the pattern of his death. That is the way I can hope to take my place in the resurrection of the dead…

There is urgency to getting in and running the race. We need to get started. You don’t have to be Christian to be an ascetic and it is therefore it is important that I move beyond being a so-called “good Christian”. The Catechism of the Catholic Church speaks of reparation in the strict sense as born of justice, my obligation to repay what I have stolen and to restore another’s good name. My call today is for a return to something more than the popular piety of a bygone era. I think it is a good Catholic spirituality the loss of which constitutes an impoverishment. If “Sister” didn’t tell us in class years ago that it was a duty, she certainly made a convincing appeal to us children not to limit ourselves to making reparation for theft and detraction, but rather to join Jesus on the Cross in making up for the sins of the world.  I think that this Sunday’s Second Reading might be supportive of my thesis as well. What else could St. Paul be getting at?

“I can assure you, my brothers, I am far from thinking that I have already won. All I can say is that I forget the past and I strain ahead for what is still to come; I am racing for the finish, for the prize to which God calls us upwards to receive in Christ Jesus.”

Let us give the Cross of Christ its pride of place in Passiontide. It should be child’s play, now shouldn’t it?

Living in Hope with the Holy Father

The Holy Father's Prayer for the Church in Ireland could rightfully be a prayer for us all in this day and age. 

Prayer for the Church in Ireland

God of our fathers,

renew us in the faith which is our life and salvation,

the hope which promises forgiveness and interior renewal,

the charity which purifies and opens our hearts

to love you, and in you, each of our brothers and sisters.

Lord Jesus Christ,

may the Church in Ireland renew her age-old commitment

to the education of our young people in the way of truth and goodness, holiness and generous service to society.

Holy Spirit, comforter, advocate and guide,

inspire a new springtime of holiness and apostolic zeal

for the Church in Ireland.

May our sorrow and our tears,

our sincere effort to redress past wrongs,

and our firm purpose of amendment

bear an abundant harvest of grace

for the deepening of the faith

in our families, parishes, schools and communities,

for the spiritual progress of Irish society,

and the growth of charity, justice, joy and peace

within the whole human family.

To you, Triune God,

confident in the loving protection of Mary,

Queen of Ireland, our Mother,

and of Saint Patrick, Saint Brigid and all the saints,

do we entrust ourselves, our children,

and the needs of the Church in Ireland.

Amen.

Laetare, Yes!

Hold Off on Psalm 2!

          The succession of Gospel Readings for Mass from yesterday to today (Luke 18:9-14 The tax collector went home again at rights with God; the Pharisee did not. Luke 15:1-3. 11-32 Your brother here was dead and has come to life.) was a welcome one for me as I sought reference points to deal with troubling headlines which had been for some time a source of great sadness for a couple older Irish priest friends of mine and which now, as the “brushfire” spreads to Germany and Holland, have unsettled a lot of other people. From some of the things I have read, I must admit that younger people, even priests, can at times react in ways that are certainly not constructive and perhaps even inappropriate, hence my title “Hold Off on Psalm 2!”

          The description “brushfire” comes to my mind to describe the media coverage of Catholic efforts to face constructively what might be labeled “domestic violence” if we were dealing with a dysfunctional family setting. The parallel to family (sacred trust betrayed) is helpful for approaching the tragic situation we are facing. The association with the visual image of a brushfire comes to me, because here in Trinidad, as elsewhere in the region, we are in the midst of one of the driest dry seasons on record. Lent and Easter Time are normally almost cloudless here, but the situation this year is exacerbated by the really cloudless nature of it all with exceptionally high daytime temperatures, following a rainy season which did not live up to its name. Simply stated, we are powder dry. I am fortunate enough to live on the flat in the city, but for folks in the hills brushfire is a real danger and the ultimate menace. Those lovely bamboo stands, for example, which keep rain soaked slopes from sliding, are now flaxen colored tinder boxes which could consume more than themselves in flames if a careless cigarette or spark were to come their way, as too often happens.

          When it comes to facing the tragedy of abuse of the defenseless young and younger in the Church family by members of its clergy, I guess I have more understanding for that type of inner Catholic reaction comparable to the boast of the Pharisee in yesterday’s Gospel who justifies himself and despises everyone else (Saturday’s Gospel). He’s wrong in lauding himself but there is a basis for dealing with him. He may be right in his assessment of others’ failures, but is definitely wrong in justifying himself. I remember during my years in Germany the accusing fingers pointed toward the U.S. without an honest assessment of what was going on in their own backyard. Now it’s their turn to face the music.

The elder brother in the Gospel for the Fourth Sunday of Lent Year C, angry at his father’s indulgence of the younger sibling and disgusted by his brother’s misbehavior, is even easier to confront in hopes of finding ways toward one another, oneness and respect in the house of a common father, who is unbounded in his love. Our purpose is not that sin might be covered over, but that life might be restored. We set boundaries; we punish; we seek forgiveness and reconciliation! We do not wish for or try to burn down the house. It is a matter of family.

          As I say, the two men in the Gospel are of the family and there is every hope in the case of either of them (Pharisee or older brother) that we can find our way to each other again. What troubles me, rather, is how with such little discernment some Catholic folks within the fold (priests too!) go on the defensive against everyone, as if the critics and those who have been scandalized were all outside, and begin the Upper Room recitation of Psalm 2: “Why do the nations conspire, and the peoples plot in vain? The kings of the earth set themselves, and the rulers take counsel together, against the Lord and his anointed, saying, ‘Let us burst their bonds asunder, and cast their cords from us.’” They need to hold off and recognize who it is who is hurting or hurtful, like the father who goes out to the elder of his two sons.

          I think the kind of defensiveness and panic which judges all critique and rage as an attack from the minions of the Evil One comes about less from a realistic appreciation of the assaults which Christ’s Church must face in this world than from a certain disappointment that despite Jesus’ teaching the world has not embraced us and His Gospel (at least as far as the press may be concerned). Neither, it would seem, has the basic human lesson that you can’t please everyone all of the time been learned, as if every hostility or refusal is an assault which must be met with a counterattack, nor is it clear when, like the tax collector, we would be better off to humbly bow our head and confess that we deserve no better. The Servant of God, Pope John Paul II asked forgiveness during the Jubilee of the Year 2000 for all sorts of things which history had placed at the doorstep of the Catholic Church. I can remember people begrudging him that act. I also remember him teaching about healing memories and how important that is for those who seek to bring Christ to a waiting world.

          Basically, I am saying that there is indeed a place for tears of sorrow over violence done by those who claim to follow Him. They have acted wrongly despite Jesus’ woe statement about those who scandalize God’s little ones (better the millstone about their necks!). Nonetheless, just because the pressure exceeds my comfort level I cannot start by questioning the motives of those who criticize me when I know perhaps better than they will ever understand why I/we are in the wrong. Here too the parallels with the drama faced by a dysfunctional family, where somebody is terribly misbehaving, are worthy of consideration. “Leave me alone” is at best an inarticulate cry of exasperation.

          The major chord which sounds today in the liturgy, “Today I have taken the shame of Egypt away from you”, is the joyful message of God the Father acting and saving. The gratuitous gift of reconciliation given out of love by God goes even further in the clothing of the younger and repentant son in a festal garment, with a ring on his finger and shoes on his feet. St. Paul is no small help in understanding the significance of this investiture for our self-awareness and empowerment. Read the Second Reading again (2Cor.5:17-21):

          “For anyone who is in Christ, there is a new creation; the old creation has gone, and now the new one is here. It is all God’s work. It was God who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the work of handing on his reconciliation. In other words, God in Christ was reconciling the world to himself, not holding men’s faults against them, and he has entrusted to us the news that they are reconciled. So we are ambassadors for Christ; it is as though God were appealing through us, and the appeal that we make in Christ’s name is: be reconciled to God. For our sake God made the sinless one into sin, so that in him we might become the goodness of God.”

          Once the brushfire is burning, if you can afford to, it is almost better to let it burn itself out and make a firm resolve to plant something less volatile to keep your hillside from washing away. Prudence demands a radical brush cut before the fact to secure that there is no such or at least not as much fuel for the flames. The tax collector, who went away justified in God’s eyes, openly confessed that in such matters we have no one to blame but ourselves; there was nothing left on him to catch the flames.

          Nothing is lost and everything can be gained by identifying with the tax collector. It’s not the fire-proofing which counts, but the stripping ourselves of pretense. In most cases we are in this together and have house-cleaning and penance to do. We need to save Psalm 2 for encouragement when we are really faced by those who are opposed to God’s Anointed!

"Leave it one more year..."

Mors stupebit et natura,

Cum resurget creatura,

Judicanti responsura.

-Dies irae –

            I had to marvel this week, all of a sudden, at how close my 60th birthday is getting and how important it is that I start thinking of myself as a senior citizen. The issue is not one of no longer being limber enough for cartwheels (not that I ever was), but rather of really belonging to an older generation of priests by comparison with the clergy who have indeed come into their prime! I don’t feel the least bit bad about it; as I say, it causes me to marvel and for the issue at hand to reach out in search of communication with that younger world now calling the shots.

            My “Aha Experience”, my reason to marvel, began this week with a kind of annoyance provoked by a book I was reading. On the recommendation of one very young man (a blogger: The American Papist) I picked up a book by another young man, Fr. Larry Richards, entitled “Be a Man”. I’m too old for the book, but my problem is with a judgment Fr. Richards expresses therein about his poor, deceased father. He classifies his father’s spirituality as Old Testament, as if his dad were critical of Jesus Himself as too merciful. I would have sloughed off this comment had it not been for one that came my way at the same time from another young priest from a very different country and cultural background who recounted in public his father’s criticism of priests nowadays as responsible for all of the fallen away Catholics, and that being so, because in essence the younger generation of priests no longer preached fire and brimstone. Neither of these young priests, each now at the top of his game, is what you’d refer to as a slouch, but both have written off a generation just slightly older than my own as professing a vengeful O.T. God, Who punishes if you don’t toe the line.

            I’m ready for the title “senior”, I guess, because I’ve never met ordinary Catholic men 10+ years my senior whose sense of accountability before God could be so easily dismissed. I cannot identify with the criticism pronounced about them so self-assuredly by the movers and shakers of the moment. I think these two dads and many other men and women of their generation and of an older tradition understood or understand, better than their priest sons do, the words of St. Paul in his 1^st Letter to the Corinthians, assigned as the second reading in Year C for this the Third Sunday in Lent:

            “These things all happened as warnings for us, not to have the wicked lusts for forbidden things that they had. You must never complain: some of them did, and they were killed by the Destroyer.

            All this happened to them as a warning and it was written down to be a lesson for us who are living at the end of the age. The man who thinks he is safe must be careful that he does not fall.”

            St. Paul is quoting the Exodus account but he is admonishing the Church in his own day and speaking across the centuries to us as well. Whether you heard “Remember that you are dust and unto dust you shall return” or “Turn away from sin and be faithful to the Gospel” on Ash Wednesday, the admonition to Lenten penance is always a call to accountability “lest you fall”. Our share in Easter joy comes through our Baptism into the Death of Christ. The tears of Penance are that “second water” St. Augustine talked about, given to the Church for the forgiveness of sins committed after Baptism. We have the means; we need to use them now and wash ourselves clean. We will be judged particularly at the hour of our death and ultimately when God is all in all.

            By some odd turn of events, among the YouTube videos recommended for me yesterday a 1991 recording of the Requiem of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and specifically there from the passage Dies Irae came up. I couldn’t say as I cared for the Mozart rendition and so I moved to Verdi’s, which I liked even less. In desperation, I tried Antonin Dvorak’s which was fine, but ended up seeking refuge with the simple one from Gregorian Chant which we used to sing at parish funerals when I was a child. It is a beautiful prayer which says much more about genuine contrition than most of what we hear these days. I put the quote above as a reminder that we are dealing with a mystery far exceeding the bounds of personal piety (cosmic!).

            All I really want to say today is that the burden of proof lies with youth. Why should they (the senior is talking) be allowed to think that the rupture which took place, let’s say in the 1970’s, positioned them better than their fathers for understanding how things are or ought to be configured in terms of time and eternity? Maybe a “penny catechism” training doesn’t necessarily provide the words, the vocabulary tools for explaining a certain dissatisfaction with a world which has emptied the word “Almighty” of any meaning. It is not right that everything has become terribly horizontal, such that “Judge” also is a word without referent. It would seem as though the “studied” sons might show their fathers a bit more compassion and a little less pity and come to their dads’ aid with the words to explain the timeless truth which St. Paul was so anxious to bring across to the Corinthians.

Ingemisco, tamquam reus:

Culpa rubet vultus meus:

Supplicanti parce, Deus.