I'm sitting here writing this article out at my desk from home, on my computer that has two monitors. A few minutes ago, I was reading tweets by the Pope on my phone from the couch. I don't have one, but tomorrow morning millions of people will wake up and read the newspaper from their tablets. Who knows what will be happening a month from now, a year, a decade? When I graduated high school, I never would have thought ANY of that was ever going to be possible. Well, except the computer with two monitors, I'm not that old.
So what's my point? Technology is moving quickly, faster than anyone would have expected, and what people are realizing more and more readily is that it's all coming down to information, communication. This definitely has its downsides, as the more information we're inundated with on a daily basis can serve to blur the lines between solid truth and relativistic ambiguity, but it has so many potential upsides.
Christianity has a real opportunity here. Getting the gospel out to the masses is just a few clicks away. Through blogging, twitter, Facebook, YouTube, and countless other social media sites, we can share our faith with more people than every before, and I would encourage anyone who can to do so. I mean, like I said above, the Pope is on twitter. Guys, the Pope! And he posts from his iPad! His account is @pontifex, by the way. You should follow him if you don't.
But there are some pitfalls we need to watch out for in this brave new world. The flip side of the coin is that, while you can reach countless souls, they can reach right back. And take it from me, it can be a real challenge to not get sucked into a pointless internet debate.
I don't say that to try and stop people from evangelizing directly on the internet. I've been in plenty of debates over Instant Messenger, email, even Facebook that myself and my "opponent" have walked away from feeling at least a little more educated on the others perspective. But often times there are people who will insult you and your position with no intention of discussion, and for the smallest things. I once posted a Lenten reflection on Facebook for my Christian friends, and had the entire thing blow up when a few people started commenting how annoyed they are when people mention God on the internet like He actually exists. I don't normally, but I ended up having to deleted all the comments just to keep the spirit of the reflection intact.
So how do we get around this? Well, sometimes we can't. If you blog, you can think about filtering comments, or just shutting them off completely. I don't do that, but it's an option. On twitter, you simply can't keep people from reading, retweeting, and replying to your messages. You can lock down your Facebook page and configure certain posts to only be viewable by certain people. But you're not going to reach a whole lot of souls by doing that.
So what it comes down to is pure old fashioned discipline. Pick your battles, identify who wants actual dialogue and who wants to troll you in anonymity. But remember the saying that if you're not turning anybody off, you're not turning anybody on. And as you go forward, keep in mind the words of Christ in John 15:20:
Remember the words I spoke to you: 'No servant is greater than his
master.' If they persecuted me, they will persecute you also. If they
obeyed my teaching, they will obey yours also.
So what now?
Well, if you like what you read here at all, check out my other posts, post a comment, and/or subscribe to this blog! You can also check out my twitter feed at https://twitter.com/UnrefinedRoman, which you can also check out over on the sidebar. You can also like my facebook page at http://www.facebook.com/UnrefinedRomanism for more updates, reflections, and whatever else I feel like posting from day to day.
Saturday, December 22, 2012
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Advent and the Year of Faith
So I meant to update this sucker back when the Year of Faith began on October 11th, but then I didn't. So then I meant to update this past Sunday, since it was the beginning of Advent. And I didn't! Again! So anyways, I'll just knock em both out now. And in the future, I promise to update more. If anybody has any topics they are interested in seeing discussed here, please feel free to suggest them down below. I'd love the feedback.
Well first off, happy new year! At least in the ecclesiastical sense; the calendar just clicked over into Advent this past Sunday, the first season of the liturgical calendar. Advent is a time of preparation for, and reflection on, the birth of Christ. It could even be regarded as a foil for it's close cousin on the calendar, Lent. Although they share the color purple, and people can sometimes get the purpose of these two great season confused, I believe their means to and end are really quite diametric from one another. Where Lent is a season of penance tempered by hope, Advent is a season of hope tempered by penance.
As we approach Christmas and the celebration of the coming of the Lord, we reflect on scripture. Read the first two chapters of St. Luke's Gospel and you can't help but feel the electricity buzzing from the pages as all of Heaven prepares for this event, an event that is the culmination of the thousands of years of prophetic foreshadowing that fills the pages of the Old Testament. Angels begin heralding the birth of John the Baptist and, shortly after, the birth of Christ. You get the joyous and excited exclamations that make up one of the Church's most famous prayers, from both angelic and human sources: "Hail Mary, full of Grace! The Lord is with you!" and "Blessed are you, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb!".
These are profound ideas, once that we could fill pages and pages exploring and fleshing out, but these are also the ordinary attitudes of the Advent and Christmas seasons. This year, however, things are, I feel, slightly different.
As I mentioned above, we are currently about two months into the Year of Faith, where Pope Benedict XVI has sought to refocus the Church on her primary goal of winning souls to Christ. This is a massive push towards what has come to be known as the New Evangelization, a movement.meant to introduce a new generation of Catholics to the good fruits of the faith. The emphasis on catechesis and study, so we can really know our faith and the reasons behind our beliefs. But most of all, the emphasis on action, on the mission to go out, making disciples of all nations. It is this that I believe the Church has missed in the modern age. The active proclamation of the Gospel.
SO here's where the message of Advent ties in uniquely with the Year of Faith. When asked where the term "gospel" comes from, what it means, most people will say that it means "God News". And this is true, it does. But there's a whole lot more to it than that, and it shines a lot of light on the mission of Christianity.
If we follow the root of the word back, past the Old English godspel to its Latin and, ultimately, to its root in the Koine Greek used in scripture, we find that the word is euangélion, literally "good messenger". This was a term that a person living under the rule of the first century Roman empire would find familiar, albeit out of place in relation to a small baby born in a manger. This wasn't a humble term, but one of great imperial weight.
Let me explain. When the Roman army returned from battle, messengers would be dispatched to the corners of the empire to proclaim an euangélion, the victorious message of the glorious expansion of imperial rule. The basic idea was that people would know that the king was on his throne and that he had won.
Now imagine the seeming paradox when the Gospel writer takes this mighty term and flips it on its head. He describes a poor man and woman traveling to a tiny town a few miles away from Jerusalem, having a child in a cave full of animals. And suddenly a heavenly host comes pouring from the sky declaring... an euangélion. The King has won. The mission is complete, the war is over. Which king? Caesar? No no, the tiny baby in the cave. The king of the world is on His throne, and He is victorious.
See, the euangélion is the moral of the Advent story. It's no longer Kyrios Caesar, it's now Kyrios Christos.
So that's all interesting, but how does it tie into the Year of Faith? Our focus on the New Evangelization? Well, look at the words. Evangelization. Euangélion. Hmm. The Year of Faith and the New Evangelization is all about the Advent. We're embroiled in the middle of a new euangélion, a renewal of our faith. So use this Advent time and follow the example of the Gospels. Announce the arrival of the Savior, keep abuzz with activity, learn your faith, and remember that it's all pointing to this: The king is on His throne, and He is victorious.
So what can you do to move forward? A few suggestions:
Well first off, happy new year! At least in the ecclesiastical sense; the calendar just clicked over into Advent this past Sunday, the first season of the liturgical calendar. Advent is a time of preparation for, and reflection on, the birth of Christ. It could even be regarded as a foil for it's close cousin on the calendar, Lent. Although they share the color purple, and people can sometimes get the purpose of these two great season confused, I believe their means to and end are really quite diametric from one another. Where Lent is a season of penance tempered by hope, Advent is a season of hope tempered by penance.
As we approach Christmas and the celebration of the coming of the Lord, we reflect on scripture. Read the first two chapters of St. Luke's Gospel and you can't help but feel the electricity buzzing from the pages as all of Heaven prepares for this event, an event that is the culmination of the thousands of years of prophetic foreshadowing that fills the pages of the Old Testament. Angels begin heralding the birth of John the Baptist and, shortly after, the birth of Christ. You get the joyous and excited exclamations that make up one of the Church's most famous prayers, from both angelic and human sources: "Hail Mary, full of Grace! The Lord is with you!" and "Blessed are you, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb!".
These are profound ideas, once that we could fill pages and pages exploring and fleshing out, but these are also the ordinary attitudes of the Advent and Christmas seasons. This year, however, things are, I feel, slightly different.
As I mentioned above, we are currently about two months into the Year of Faith, where Pope Benedict XVI has sought to refocus the Church on her primary goal of winning souls to Christ. This is a massive push towards what has come to be known as the New Evangelization, a movement.meant to introduce a new generation of Catholics to the good fruits of the faith. The emphasis on catechesis and study, so we can really know our faith and the reasons behind our beliefs. But most of all, the emphasis on action, on the mission to go out, making disciples of all nations. It is this that I believe the Church has missed in the modern age. The active proclamation of the Gospel.
SO here's where the message of Advent ties in uniquely with the Year of Faith. When asked where the term "gospel" comes from, what it means, most people will say that it means "God News". And this is true, it does. But there's a whole lot more to it than that, and it shines a lot of light on the mission of Christianity.
If we follow the root of the word back, past the Old English godspel to its Latin and, ultimately, to its root in the Koine Greek used in scripture, we find that the word is euangélion, literally "good messenger". This was a term that a person living under the rule of the first century Roman empire would find familiar, albeit out of place in relation to a small baby born in a manger. This wasn't a humble term, but one of great imperial weight.
Let me explain. When the Roman army returned from battle, messengers would be dispatched to the corners of the empire to proclaim an euangélion, the victorious message of the glorious expansion of imperial rule. The basic idea was that people would know that the king was on his throne and that he had won.
Now imagine the seeming paradox when the Gospel writer takes this mighty term and flips it on its head. He describes a poor man and woman traveling to a tiny town a few miles away from Jerusalem, having a child in a cave full of animals. And suddenly a heavenly host comes pouring from the sky declaring... an euangélion. The King has won. The mission is complete, the war is over. Which king? Caesar? No no, the tiny baby in the cave. The king of the world is on His throne, and He is victorious.
See, the euangélion is the moral of the Advent story. It's no longer Kyrios Caesar, it's now Kyrios Christos.
So that's all interesting, but how does it tie into the Year of Faith? Our focus on the New Evangelization? Well, look at the words. Evangelization. Euangélion. Hmm. The Year of Faith and the New Evangelization is all about the Advent. We're embroiled in the middle of a new euangélion, a renewal of our faith. So use this Advent time and follow the example of the Gospels. Announce the arrival of the Savior, keep abuzz with activity, learn your faith, and remember that it's all pointing to this: The king is on His throne, and He is victorious.
So what can you do to move forward? A few suggestions:
- Read the Bible. Seriously, just hit about five pages a day and you'll have the entire thing read, cover to cover, in a year.
- Read the Catechism of the Catholic Church. Again, 5-10 paragraphs a day and you'll have it knocked out in a year. Check out http://www.flocknote.com/catechism and sign up to have a snippet sent to your email every day. It's already about 56 days into it, but you could catch up in a night and take it from thee.
- Study the Catholic faith. There are countless resources on the web. http://www.catholic.com is a good place to start, and there are a number of good books you can get. Also, look up your local Diocese's website, many of them are beginning to provide study materials and online courses for free or cheap. This is a link to the Archdiocese of Washington's adult faith formation program. Lastly, if you're not sure where to go, find a church and give them a call. Sign up for an RCIA class, or something similar.
- Pray. This cannot be stressed enough. You don't need to lock yourself in a silent room full of icons and statues for an hour, just start with ten minutes. Maybe pray the rosary every day, that'll take about that much time. Then, as you feel comfortable, ad another five minutes. Work your way up, and soon an hour wont seem like enough time.
Monday, June 11, 2012
Form One Body
Hey, a new post! We're living in crazy times, people.
So this past weekend I went to a wedding celebration party reception thing for my cousin. It was pretty nice, and I got to see all of my cousins in one place at one time for the first time in... I dunno, a long time I guess. We have pictures to prove it too. But one of the things I found interesting was that despite not seeing each other all the time (in some cases, there are gaps of years at a time) and despite sometimes not always seeing eye-to-eye, when we get around a table we're able to just sort of pick back up and everything is great. Because hey, we're family, even if we don't want to be sometimes.
So that got me thinking. You know, the glory of God absolutely shines through our lives, and everything we experience is, in some limited way, a reflection of Him. So in the same way that my cousins (and aunts and uncles etc etc) are intrinsically bound to one another through family ties, so are Christians bound to one another through baptismal grace. We even describe baptism as an adoption as children into the family of God, which is in of itself a reflection of Christ's begotten Sonship to the Father.
So strong is this grace that it can't be broken, not even in death. As we pray for one another here on earth, those souls in heaven and, yes, even in purgatory, pray for us as well. It's a common misconception by many Protestants that those who are dead are seperated from us here on earth, that they are so contented in the beatific vision that they simply wouldn't care to pay attention even if they could. The problem with that view is that scripture makes it pretty clear that God is a God of the living, not of the dead, and it's pretty clear that those in heaven are actually more alive than we are. But most of all, we are united. We are all the body of Christ, He is the vine we are the branches. The book of Revelations even shows the saints in heaven offering our prayers to God, using the symbolism of bowls of incense. Of course, it is through Him that we commune, not of our own power or will, and after we die that communion will take a different form. But don't make the mistake of believing that we do not commune.
Appropriately enough, the Church refers to this as the Communion of Saints, comprised of three parts. The Church Militant, or those of use still fighting the battle here on earth, the Church Suffering, those undergoing the process of purification in purgatory, and the Church Triumphant, those being exposed to the full glory in heaven.
The Catechism of the Catholic Church describes the Communion of Saints not as just a binding of the members of the Church, but the very Church itself:
After confessing "the holy catholic Church," the Apostles' Creed adds "the communion of saints." In a certain sense this article is a further explanation of the preceding: "What is the Church if not the assembly of all the saints?" The communion of saints is the Church.
"Since all the faithful form one body, the good of each is communicated to the others.... We must therefore believe that there exists a communion of goods in the Church. But the most important member is Christ, since he is the head.... Therefore, the riches of Christ are communicated to all the members, through the sacraments." "As this Church is governed by one and the same Spirit, all the goods she has received necessarily become a common fund."
It goes on to state:
Communion with the saints. "It is not merely by the title of example that we cherish the memory of those in heaven; we seek, rather, that by this devotion to the exercise of fraternal charity the union of the whole Church in the Spirit may be strengthened. Exactly as Christian communion among our fellow pilgrims brings us closer to Christ, so our communion with the saints joins us to Christ, from whom as from its fountain and head issues all grace, and the life of the People of God itself"
This is a beautiful concept. A seamless Church, constantly looking in on itself, building each other up spiritually, bestowing the graces we have received back onto each other. The perfect, Holy perpetual motion machine. We are called to pray for one another, to intercede for one another. Since the prayers of the righteous have great effect, but, according to St. Paul, no man on earth is righteous "no, not one"... well, I'll let you reason out where those prayers of great effect are coming from.
As I stated earlier, this tends to be a concept that many Protestants (and not a few Catholics) lose sight of. But Jesus Christ prayed for unity, and the Church, the Communion of Saints, is the ultimate fulfillment of that prayer. So the next time you're praying for someone (or asking someone for prayers), know that you're in good company.
So this past weekend I went to a wedding celebration party reception thing for my cousin. It was pretty nice, and I got to see all of my cousins in one place at one time for the first time in... I dunno, a long time I guess. We have pictures to prove it too. But one of the things I found interesting was that despite not seeing each other all the time (in some cases, there are gaps of years at a time) and despite sometimes not always seeing eye-to-eye, when we get around a table we're able to just sort of pick back up and everything is great. Because hey, we're family, even if we don't want to be sometimes.
So that got me thinking. You know, the glory of God absolutely shines through our lives, and everything we experience is, in some limited way, a reflection of Him. So in the same way that my cousins (and aunts and uncles etc etc) are intrinsically bound to one another through family ties, so are Christians bound to one another through baptismal grace. We even describe baptism as an adoption as children into the family of God, which is in of itself a reflection of Christ's begotten Sonship to the Father.
So strong is this grace that it can't be broken, not even in death. As we pray for one another here on earth, those souls in heaven and, yes, even in purgatory, pray for us as well. It's a common misconception by many Protestants that those who are dead are seperated from us here on earth, that they are so contented in the beatific vision that they simply wouldn't care to pay attention even if they could. The problem with that view is that scripture makes it pretty clear that God is a God of the living, not of the dead, and it's pretty clear that those in heaven are actually more alive than we are. But most of all, we are united. We are all the body of Christ, He is the vine we are the branches. The book of Revelations even shows the saints in heaven offering our prayers to God, using the symbolism of bowls of incense. Of course, it is through Him that we commune, not of our own power or will, and after we die that communion will take a different form. But don't make the mistake of believing that we do not commune.
Appropriately enough, the Church refers to this as the Communion of Saints, comprised of three parts. The Church Militant, or those of use still fighting the battle here on earth, the Church Suffering, those undergoing the process of purification in purgatory, and the Church Triumphant, those being exposed to the full glory in heaven.
The Catechism of the Catholic Church describes the Communion of Saints not as just a binding of the members of the Church, but the very Church itself:
After confessing "the holy catholic Church," the Apostles' Creed adds "the communion of saints." In a certain sense this article is a further explanation of the preceding: "What is the Church if not the assembly of all the saints?" The communion of saints is the Church.
"Since all the faithful form one body, the good of each is communicated to the others.... We must therefore believe that there exists a communion of goods in the Church. But the most important member is Christ, since he is the head.... Therefore, the riches of Christ are communicated to all the members, through the sacraments." "As this Church is governed by one and the same Spirit, all the goods she has received necessarily become a common fund."
It goes on to state:
Communion with the saints. "It is not merely by the title of example that we cherish the memory of those in heaven; we seek, rather, that by this devotion to the exercise of fraternal charity the union of the whole Church in the Spirit may be strengthened. Exactly as Christian communion among our fellow pilgrims brings us closer to Christ, so our communion with the saints joins us to Christ, from whom as from its fountain and head issues all grace, and the life of the People of God itself"
This is a beautiful concept. A seamless Church, constantly looking in on itself, building each other up spiritually, bestowing the graces we have received back onto each other. The perfect, Holy perpetual motion machine. We are called to pray for one another, to intercede for one another. Since the prayers of the righteous have great effect, but, according to St. Paul, no man on earth is righteous "no, not one"... well, I'll let you reason out where those prayers of great effect are coming from.
As I stated earlier, this tends to be a concept that many Protestants (and not a few Catholics) lose sight of. But Jesus Christ prayed for unity, and the Church, the Communion of Saints, is the ultimate fulfillment of that prayer. So the next time you're praying for someone (or asking someone for prayers), know that you're in good company.
Sunday, May 6, 2012
When Kings go off to War
So I was reading a blog post by Catholic Answers Live radio host Patrick Coffin the other day, specifically this one. It's an interesting commentary about the attitudes that many atheists tend to have towards believers, but what really stood out to me was the silly rationalization that Dr. Richard Dawkins gave for not debating Dr. William Lane Craig. He doesn't debate people who support genocide? Really? I feel like if I was given the chance to confront a man on (what I considered) his dangerous ideological fallacies, I would jump on it. How else can progress be made?
But regardless, the point I found interesting was one that many, many atheists I know have thrown out there, and one that most of my Christian friends try to duck or ignore. Namely, how can we justify our belief in an all loving God, a God that is, in fact, Love itself, when that same God ordered the genocidal butchering of entire cities that occur time and again in the Old Testament? How could that possibly jive with Christ's message of "Do to others as you would have them do to you"?
Modern Christianity has many advantages. We have the ability to look backwards over thousands of years, and see a lot of the big picture. What may have been confusing for a Jew in antiquity can become crystal clear for those of us that can look and see how the hardships of his life pointed so definitively towards its fulfilment in Jesus. But it also has its disadvantages. We are so disconnected from the culture and norms of the apostolic age and beyond that we often fail to see the context in which some of those hardships could have occurred.
God chose to reveal Himself to the world through the Israelites. He set these people aside as His chosen, to slowly but surely prepare the world for His coming as the incarnate Son. We know this already, because we get to look back on the entirety of the now-closed canon of Scripture and this this as we read through the New Testament. But we often forget that it was slowly-but-surely. The Bible was written over the course of thousands of years, and in that time God's chosen people changed in many ways. We can see the covenant grow from a marriage with Adam and Eve, a family with Noah, a household with Abraham, a tribal nation with Moses, a kingdom with David, and of course the fulfillment of it all with Christ when the world was ready to begin accepting Him.
And just as we see the covenant grow, we see the challenges posed by the world around them grow as well. For much of their existence, the Israelites were a collective of a fiercely tribal system surrounded by polytheistic paganism on every side. If they didn't have that danger to face, I have my doubts as to if they could even have lived with each other without resorting to full-time violence. The only thing holding them together over the long run was their desire to defend themselves from the darkness around them, and even that wasn't enough oftentimes.
How could the nation that was was meant to be the light in the darkness, to be the catalyst of salvation in the world and gather all people to itself accomplish any of this when it couldn't even keep itself together?
Last week, we talked about the idea of Just War. The world that ancient Israel existed in was one of violence and war. It was commonplace for a city-state to simply up and lay siege to the lands of another for little to no reason, so much so that spring was even considered the time of year when kings go off to war. If you did not go conquering, you were likely to be conquered.
As I said before, the development of God's people was progressive. Christ even noted this when He told the leaders of the Temple that their understanding of marriage was incomplete, that Moses had allowed divorce because the people simply were not yet ready to hear the full truth that Christ was now presenting to them. Things that they had always regarded as truth and law were being challenged by the very one who put them into law in the first place, as He showed them the next and final step in the story of salvation.
Because in the end, it is a story of salvation. As I'm sure you've noticed has become a semi-common theme in my entries, people are messed up, and as a result salvation history is messy. In it, Israel represents the children of God, those that are meant to be pure and holy. But as in our personal lives, sin finds a way to creep and slither in, infecting and tempting the people of God. The nations and paganism around them represent that sin, that temptation. Although hard to understand then you look at the individual event from the comfort of your 21st century home, in the grand picture it begins to make sense.
If you have cancer, you do not sit by and wait, you attack it. And you do not stop when you've eradicated 99% of it. It's a zero-sum game. You get it all, or you die. When the ancient Jewish tribes were commanded by God to eradicate the pagan nations around them, they were being commanded to respond to sin in the only way they culturally and contextually were prepared to. God tolerated an evil in order to work it towards the ultimate good, as He does all things. Although initially counter-intuitive, without war and violence Christ's message of peace could never have happened.
Ultimately, these are hard verses for us to understand, and oceans of ink have been spilled trying to make sense of them. There are many mysteries of our faith that we will never fully grasp in this life. Grasping how evil can ultimately produce good is one of the most profound. A particular theme in the ancient scriptures is that as God is ordering His people to do one thing or another, although that thing may have immediate practical uses (destroy this city before they destroy you or you become landless nomads for all time), it fits in the grand design in a way that can only be understood in the light of Christ a thousand years later (eradicate sin before you are damned).
But the unfortunate reality is that when an atheist, or anyone else who has no desire to see scripture in any sort of context, comments on these passages, there are too few of us who stand ready to challenge them on any sort of intellectual level. So my challenge to you is to steep yourself in scripture, and never forget both the narrow and wide context of God's mercy.
But regardless, the point I found interesting was one that many, many atheists I know have thrown out there, and one that most of my Christian friends try to duck or ignore. Namely, how can we justify our belief in an all loving God, a God that is, in fact, Love itself, when that same God ordered the genocidal butchering of entire cities that occur time and again in the Old Testament? How could that possibly jive with Christ's message of "Do to others as you would have them do to you"?
Modern Christianity has many advantages. We have the ability to look backwards over thousands of years, and see a lot of the big picture. What may have been confusing for a Jew in antiquity can become crystal clear for those of us that can look and see how the hardships of his life pointed so definitively towards its fulfilment in Jesus. But it also has its disadvantages. We are so disconnected from the culture and norms of the apostolic age and beyond that we often fail to see the context in which some of those hardships could have occurred.
God chose to reveal Himself to the world through the Israelites. He set these people aside as His chosen, to slowly but surely prepare the world for His coming as the incarnate Son. We know this already, because we get to look back on the entirety of the now-closed canon of Scripture and this this as we read through the New Testament. But we often forget that it was slowly-but-surely. The Bible was written over the course of thousands of years, and in that time God's chosen people changed in many ways. We can see the covenant grow from a marriage with Adam and Eve, a family with Noah, a household with Abraham, a tribal nation with Moses, a kingdom with David, and of course the fulfillment of it all with Christ when the world was ready to begin accepting Him.
And just as we see the covenant grow, we see the challenges posed by the world around them grow as well. For much of their existence, the Israelites were a collective of a fiercely tribal system surrounded by polytheistic paganism on every side. If they didn't have that danger to face, I have my doubts as to if they could even have lived with each other without resorting to full-time violence. The only thing holding them together over the long run was their desire to defend themselves from the darkness around them, and even that wasn't enough oftentimes.
How could the nation that was was meant to be the light in the darkness, to be the catalyst of salvation in the world and gather all people to itself accomplish any of this when it couldn't even keep itself together?
Last week, we talked about the idea of Just War. The world that ancient Israel existed in was one of violence and war. It was commonplace for a city-state to simply up and lay siege to the lands of another for little to no reason, so much so that spring was even considered the time of year when kings go off to war. If you did not go conquering, you were likely to be conquered.
As I said before, the development of God's people was progressive. Christ even noted this when He told the leaders of the Temple that their understanding of marriage was incomplete, that Moses had allowed divorce because the people simply were not yet ready to hear the full truth that Christ was now presenting to them. Things that they had always regarded as truth and law were being challenged by the very one who put them into law in the first place, as He showed them the next and final step in the story of salvation.
Because in the end, it is a story of salvation. As I'm sure you've noticed has become a semi-common theme in my entries, people are messed up, and as a result salvation history is messy. In it, Israel represents the children of God, those that are meant to be pure and holy. But as in our personal lives, sin finds a way to creep and slither in, infecting and tempting the people of God. The nations and paganism around them represent that sin, that temptation. Although hard to understand then you look at the individual event from the comfort of your 21st century home, in the grand picture it begins to make sense.
If you have cancer, you do not sit by and wait, you attack it. And you do not stop when you've eradicated 99% of it. It's a zero-sum game. You get it all, or you die. When the ancient Jewish tribes were commanded by God to eradicate the pagan nations around them, they were being commanded to respond to sin in the only way they culturally and contextually were prepared to. God tolerated an evil in order to work it towards the ultimate good, as He does all things. Although initially counter-intuitive, without war and violence Christ's message of peace could never have happened.
Ultimately, these are hard verses for us to understand, and oceans of ink have been spilled trying to make sense of them. There are many mysteries of our faith that we will never fully grasp in this life. Grasping how evil can ultimately produce good is one of the most profound. A particular theme in the ancient scriptures is that as God is ordering His people to do one thing or another, although that thing may have immediate practical uses (destroy this city before they destroy you or you become landless nomads for all time), it fits in the grand design in a way that can only be understood in the light of Christ a thousand years later (eradicate sin before you are damned).
But the unfortunate reality is that when an atheist, or anyone else who has no desire to see scripture in any sort of context, comments on these passages, there are too few of us who stand ready to challenge them on any sort of intellectual level. So my challenge to you is to steep yourself in scripture, and never forget both the narrow and wide context of God's mercy.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
A Well-Formed Conscience
The concept of Just War has been done to death. I was going to talk about it a bit, but we all pretty much get it. War is never the ideal, but when pushed to certain circumstances, a war can be considered just. St. Augustine and St. Thomas Aquinas pretty well have the subject covered. If you want to read about it, by all means, go nuts.
So instead, I'm going to sort of branch out from it. First off, I want to briefly hit on the issue that many people pick up, namely that war is never ever ever okay ever for any reason ever. Basically, I tend to agree, except for the tiny issue that humanity is profoundly messed up at a very fundamental level. Everything we do turns to dust and ruin. It's messy being people. Imagine you're a parent, and you come home one day after work to find your entire kitchen has been smeared with brown paint and there sitting in the middle of it all is your naked, smiling toddler, proud at his contribution to household beautification.
God, for all intents and purposes, deals with that every moment of every day with every single one of His billions of children. Thank goodness He's more understanding than we are.
The reality is that war and conflict exist, and nearly always have. This does not make violence the human ideal, but it does make it the human condition. They are a reality that we need to deal with directly, and with the understanding that we can't just simply wave them off with claims of Christian pacifism.
But all that aside, what I really want to talk about is a slightly more complicated issue. Just War very explicitly touches on if a conflict is Just, and that would naturally extend to the soldiers fighting on the just side. But what about an unjust conflict? What about the soldiers fighting for that side? Are they sinning by participating? How about soldiers compelled into service in one way or another?
You know, culpability is a funny thing. It can vary from sin to sin, and person to person. There is no "one-size-fits-all" answer to explain it. So I'm going to focus in on the criteria that we use to determine a mortal sin: The sin must be a grave matter, you must have knowledge that what you're doing in sinful, and you must be doing it with full consent of the will.
Patriotism is a great thing. Being willing to step up when your country calls you to duty, to fight for and defend your principles, those things can be noble. But patriotism alone isn't a theological mandate, or some sort of excuse for invincible ignorance. Now, if your country steps into a conflict with the intent to resolve it for the sake of peace and ending human suffering, or if you, as a soldier, are led to believe as such, an argument could be made that your duty as a soldier has not conflicted with your faith.
And excellent example of the other side of this though would be the Nazis. German soldiers were very much held accountable for their sins, and their attempts to hide behind the flag simply didn't fly. They knew the atrocities being committed, they participated with consent of the will. Nobody held a gun to their head.
Except maybe they did. Many killings have occurred in history through force. This is a tricky area, but I will say one thing about it. There's always a choice. So ask yourself, is the choice you're making a selfless one, or a selfish one?
Even in a conflict that could be deemed just, unjust things can, and do, happen. Your team goes into a town to drive out the dictator subjugating it's people, a good and noble purpose. But are you doing the right things during that fight, limiting the combat to enemy soldiers, or are you abusing innocents? What if those innocents pull weapons on you themselves? Do you shoot first and ask later, or try to disarm them? It's a muddy area for many people.
This highlights another point, which is the importance of a well-formed conscience. Atheists and relativists will talk about how religion has somehow "hijacked" morality, but this is an absurd notion. Morality is from God, that's very true, but it is, in many way, written on our hearts. You generally don't need to be a Christian to know murder is wrong. But what religion tends to do is bring forth the concepts of absolute truths. There is a real "right", and a real "wrong". But how do we know what these absolutes are? Well, additionally, religion introduces the concept of a well-formed conscience. Our moralities, like most other things, demand to be learned, developed, and refined, but I'd argue that most people don't realize they need to or simply don't want to do this.
This is where morality moves out of the realm of concepts and into practice. In war, you often cannot take the time to study and think, but instead must rely on intrinsic reaction, and the Christian action must come to the forefront. In many ways, this is the goal of a well-formed conscience, and vital to the application of Just War doctrine specifically, as well as our actions in general.
So instead, I'm going to sort of branch out from it. First off, I want to briefly hit on the issue that many people pick up, namely that war is never ever ever okay ever for any reason ever. Basically, I tend to agree, except for the tiny issue that humanity is profoundly messed up at a very fundamental level. Everything we do turns to dust and ruin. It's messy being people. Imagine you're a parent, and you come home one day after work to find your entire kitchen has been smeared with brown paint and there sitting in the middle of it all is your naked, smiling toddler, proud at his contribution to household beautification.
God, for all intents and purposes, deals with that every moment of every day with every single one of His billions of children. Thank goodness He's more understanding than we are.
The reality is that war and conflict exist, and nearly always have. This does not make violence the human ideal, but it does make it the human condition. They are a reality that we need to deal with directly, and with the understanding that we can't just simply wave them off with claims of Christian pacifism.
But all that aside, what I really want to talk about is a slightly more complicated issue. Just War very explicitly touches on if a conflict is Just, and that would naturally extend to the soldiers fighting on the just side. But what about an unjust conflict? What about the soldiers fighting for that side? Are they sinning by participating? How about soldiers compelled into service in one way or another?
You know, culpability is a funny thing. It can vary from sin to sin, and person to person. There is no "one-size-fits-all" answer to explain it. So I'm going to focus in on the criteria that we use to determine a mortal sin: The sin must be a grave matter, you must have knowledge that what you're doing in sinful, and you must be doing it with full consent of the will.
Patriotism is a great thing. Being willing to step up when your country calls you to duty, to fight for and defend your principles, those things can be noble. But patriotism alone isn't a theological mandate, or some sort of excuse for invincible ignorance. Now, if your country steps into a conflict with the intent to resolve it for the sake of peace and ending human suffering, or if you, as a soldier, are led to believe as such, an argument could be made that your duty as a soldier has not conflicted with your faith.
And excellent example of the other side of this though would be the Nazis. German soldiers were very much held accountable for their sins, and their attempts to hide behind the flag simply didn't fly. They knew the atrocities being committed, they participated with consent of the will. Nobody held a gun to their head.
Except maybe they did. Many killings have occurred in history through force. This is a tricky area, but I will say one thing about it. There's always a choice. So ask yourself, is the choice you're making a selfless one, or a selfish one?
Even in a conflict that could be deemed just, unjust things can, and do, happen. Your team goes into a town to drive out the dictator subjugating it's people, a good and noble purpose. But are you doing the right things during that fight, limiting the combat to enemy soldiers, or are you abusing innocents? What if those innocents pull weapons on you themselves? Do you shoot first and ask later, or try to disarm them? It's a muddy area for many people.
This highlights another point, which is the importance of a well-formed conscience. Atheists and relativists will talk about how religion has somehow "hijacked" morality, but this is an absurd notion. Morality is from God, that's very true, but it is, in many way, written on our hearts. You generally don't need to be a Christian to know murder is wrong. But what religion tends to do is bring forth the concepts of absolute truths. There is a real "right", and a real "wrong". But how do we know what these absolutes are? Well, additionally, religion introduces the concept of a well-formed conscience. Our moralities, like most other things, demand to be learned, developed, and refined, but I'd argue that most people don't realize they need to or simply don't want to do this.
This is where morality moves out of the realm of concepts and into practice. In war, you often cannot take the time to study and think, but instead must rely on intrinsic reaction, and the Christian action must come to the forefront. In many ways, this is the goal of a well-formed conscience, and vital to the application of Just War doctrine specifically, as well as our actions in general.
Monday, April 16, 2012
Understanding the Picture
I've heard the argument a few times that the Church that apologists write about, the Church that the catechism describes, the Church founded in the Bible, that Church simply doesn't exist in real life. I've heard it from secularists describing Christianity as a whole, and many Christians say it about Catholicism specifically. I, of course, find this absurdly false.
Well, okay, I actually can understand the argument. It's one made exclusively by those on the outside of the Church, which should give you a fair idea of the validity of the source. Not to say that those claiming such are stupid; In fact, far from it. I've found that the less intelligent arguments tend to make up the bulk of the "You're a heretical, non-christian, satanic organization" objections. Or, in the case of the secular world, the less intelligent claims tend to fall around the idea that Christianity and religion in general is responsible for all the world's misfortunes and everything good that has ever happened was a result of freethinking men and women breaking free from the shackle of religious ignorance.
Conversely, it's far more eloquent to make the claim that, while the idea of Catholicism might be great, it falls apart and simply doesn't work when you plug human beings into the system. So the argument can be made that it's wiser to avoid the system altogether and find one that works better, but I totally understand if you were born into it, and it's a nice idea so feel free to stick with it. I'm just not going to join, because what's the point? I'm in my little system that works okay, so whatever.
You know though, there's a reason apologists claim certain things about the Church. They certainly believe what they're saying. And it's easy to forget amidst all the verse slinging and debate over the meaning of Greek words and why this perfect passive participle is located where it is, that these folks are devout Catholics. They go to Mass, oftentimes daily. They are active members of their parishes, have close friendships with laity and clergy alike. And they aren't just lying about their experiences.
The fact of the matter is that the Church that exists on paper is absolutely the Church that exists in reality. Now, it's filled with sinners, broken people who will always fall short of the glory of God. From the Pope, the Bishops, the Priests and Deacons, to the cloistered Religious and folks in the pews, all of us are sinners. All of us are at different points in our faith journeys, but none of us in the Church Militant - That is, the Church on earth - are yet made righteous. St Paul makes that clear.
I say this accusation is a more intelligent one because it tends to be put forth by those with a lot schooling and education under their belts. Those who read the most, study the most, and use the biggest words. But this is precisely where the problem comes from to begin with.
See, it's easy to get lost in all the theology and history. You "can't see the forest for the trees", so to speak. We can get so focused on what Pope made what decree under what historical circumstance, and we can see the far-reaching consequences of certain ecclesiastical decisions, so it easy to end up denying certain doctrines based, not on sound scriptural research, but on an over-reading of context.
Don't get me wrong. Catholicism is a deeply theological religion, and is firmly rooted in historical truth. Theology and historical context are absolutely the Church's two biggest allies in discussion and debate against other Christians and unbelievers alike. But they must be carefully regulated against the sacred Deposit of Faith, or else they tend to muddy the waters.
So how does one discern the pure Holiness of the Church from the sinfulness of its adherents? There are identifiable Fruits of the Spirit outlined in scripture when it comes to the people, but what about the system, the Church itself. Well, God is a God of order, and not chaos. He did not leave His flock without a shepherd. It is demonstrated time and time again in Scripture that the Church is the pillar and foundation of the Truth. The Holy Spirit provided us with the purity of God's word that we must hold fast to, either by written letter or word of mouth. Christ left us with His Church as a guide to and through the word, granting it the power to Bind and Loose. He left us with a vicar that holds the Keys to the Kingdom of Heaven.
Are these men perfect? No, of course not. But that's the point. We were left with a system that, against all odds and against attacks from without and from within, perseveres through the centuries. It lifts men up in spite of themselves. Christ always ordered the wounded and afflicted to rise up, and they did, healed and good as new.
It can be hard to tell what it's all about to an outsider. You can visit a local parish and see an immoral Priest and half-empty pews housing bored, sinful people that refuse to accept the teachings of the Church. But when you truly begin to absorb Truth and give yourself over to Christ and His Church, you can enter that same parish and see a a totally different picture.
Think of it like a stained-glass window. When you are standing outside looking in, all you see is a dirty, dark blob of shapes and mortar. But walk inside the building and suddenly the glass shines with beautiful light, telling a rich story. But if you never taken those steps, it would have been very, very easy to say "They say that stained glass is beautiful, but what I'm seeing in reality isn't anything special. In fact, it's kind of ugly." It's the same with the Catholic Church and Christianity in general.
To see the Truth of Christianity and Catholicism, perspective matters. Are you standing on the outside looking at darkened glass and dull brick? Or are you standing on the inside understanding the picture?
Well, okay, I actually can understand the argument. It's one made exclusively by those on the outside of the Church, which should give you a fair idea of the validity of the source. Not to say that those claiming such are stupid; In fact, far from it. I've found that the less intelligent arguments tend to make up the bulk of the "You're a heretical, non-christian, satanic organization" objections. Or, in the case of the secular world, the less intelligent claims tend to fall around the idea that Christianity and religion in general is responsible for all the world's misfortunes and everything good that has ever happened was a result of freethinking men and women breaking free from the shackle of religious ignorance.
Conversely, it's far more eloquent to make the claim that, while the idea of Catholicism might be great, it falls apart and simply doesn't work when you plug human beings into the system. So the argument can be made that it's wiser to avoid the system altogether and find one that works better, but I totally understand if you were born into it, and it's a nice idea so feel free to stick with it. I'm just not going to join, because what's the point? I'm in my little system that works okay, so whatever.
You know though, there's a reason apologists claim certain things about the Church. They certainly believe what they're saying. And it's easy to forget amidst all the verse slinging and debate over the meaning of Greek words and why this perfect passive participle is located where it is, that these folks are devout Catholics. They go to Mass, oftentimes daily. They are active members of their parishes, have close friendships with laity and clergy alike. And they aren't just lying about their experiences.
The fact of the matter is that the Church that exists on paper is absolutely the Church that exists in reality. Now, it's filled with sinners, broken people who will always fall short of the glory of God. From the Pope, the Bishops, the Priests and Deacons, to the cloistered Religious and folks in the pews, all of us are sinners. All of us are at different points in our faith journeys, but none of us in the Church Militant - That is, the Church on earth - are yet made righteous. St Paul makes that clear.
I say this accusation is a more intelligent one because it tends to be put forth by those with a lot schooling and education under their belts. Those who read the most, study the most, and use the biggest words. But this is precisely where the problem comes from to begin with.
See, it's easy to get lost in all the theology and history. You "can't see the forest for the trees", so to speak. We can get so focused on what Pope made what decree under what historical circumstance, and we can see the far-reaching consequences of certain ecclesiastical decisions, so it easy to end up denying certain doctrines based, not on sound scriptural research, but on an over-reading of context.
Don't get me wrong. Catholicism is a deeply theological religion, and is firmly rooted in historical truth. Theology and historical context are absolutely the Church's two biggest allies in discussion and debate against other Christians and unbelievers alike. But they must be carefully regulated against the sacred Deposit of Faith, or else they tend to muddy the waters.
So how does one discern the pure Holiness of the Church from the sinfulness of its adherents? There are identifiable Fruits of the Spirit outlined in scripture when it comes to the people, but what about the system, the Church itself. Well, God is a God of order, and not chaos. He did not leave His flock without a shepherd. It is demonstrated time and time again in Scripture that the Church is the pillar and foundation of the Truth. The Holy Spirit provided us with the purity of God's word that we must hold fast to, either by written letter or word of mouth. Christ left us with His Church as a guide to and through the word, granting it the power to Bind and Loose. He left us with a vicar that holds the Keys to the Kingdom of Heaven.
Are these men perfect? No, of course not. But that's the point. We were left with a system that, against all odds and against attacks from without and from within, perseveres through the centuries. It lifts men up in spite of themselves. Christ always ordered the wounded and afflicted to rise up, and they did, healed and good as new.
It can be hard to tell what it's all about to an outsider. You can visit a local parish and see an immoral Priest and half-empty pews housing bored, sinful people that refuse to accept the teachings of the Church. But when you truly begin to absorb Truth and give yourself over to Christ and His Church, you can enter that same parish and see a a totally different picture.
Think of it like a stained-glass window. When you are standing outside looking in, all you see is a dirty, dark blob of shapes and mortar. But walk inside the building and suddenly the glass shines with beautiful light, telling a rich story. But if you never taken those steps, it would have been very, very easy to say "They say that stained glass is beautiful, but what I'm seeing in reality isn't anything special. In fact, it's kind of ugly." It's the same with the Catholic Church and Christianity in general.
To see the Truth of Christianity and Catholicism, perspective matters. Are you standing on the outside looking at darkened glass and dull brick? Or are you standing on the inside understanding the picture?
Monday, April 9, 2012
Jesus Christ and Him Crucified
Well folks, we've just finished up one of my personal favorite times of the year, the Triduum. I've often said that the period leading up to it, Lent, is the most Grace-filled period on the liturgical calendar, if you're willing to reach out and accept some. And I believe that. But there's something very special about the period of Christ's Passion that is the culmination of all that Lenten Grace (in fact, the culmination of thousands of years of divine preparation, but that's not the point I'm making).
Of course, my two favorite Masses of the year are the Evening Mass of Lord's Supper, and the Easter Vigil two evenings later. Their striking liturgical beauty, the way they bookend the Triduum, calling us to partake in the universal plea for salvation that is the Passion. Also, their length. People seem to think I'm out of my mind when I mention that I wish that Sunday Mass was about a half-hour longer. But once you realize what's happening during the Sacred Liturgy, why wouldn't you want it to last a little longer? It enraptures your mind, and you just don't want it to end. This year however, as I sat in my pew (left center, front row) on Thursday evening, and later at the Vigil, a thought struck me.
My Protestant brothers and sisters, I love you guys. We share so much, we can rejoice together in the fact that Christ paid a debt for us that we could never hope to fulfill. But guys, you've got nothing like this. And, you know, it's not your fault. The problem is, you subscribe to a theology that simply can't. It doesn't matter if you're Baptist, Presbyterian, Methodist, even Lutheran or Episcopalian. Trinitarian, Unitarian, Bitarian. Conservative, Liberal, Progressive, Universalist. It doesn't matter. You reject tenants of Christianity that prevent you from partaking in the fullness of worship.
Sermons are great. They can stir the heart and inspire us to Christian action. But they aren't the point of gathering together on the Lord's day. Theme weekends, bible lecture series, fellowship and hugs and spiritual gifts, these things are great, but they aren't the point. They never have been, they never will be. From the beginning, Christians have gathered for one reason.
Worship.
Of course, at this point you may be tempted to say "Well, I worship best listening to a great sermon and singing heartfelt hymns!". And my reply would be no. You don't. You worship best by worshiping the way God wants to be worshiped.
I don't say this to attack or condemn those that fall into the categories I mentioned. You've developed a relationship with Christ, and that's what it's all about. But at some point, you've got to take that relationship to the next level. The level Christ has called for us to attain.
My challenge to you is this: Go to Mass. The Triduum season is over, but we celebrate Christ's death and resurrection every week. Every day, in fact. Attend the liturgy and listen. Follow along and participate. Ignore the kids fighting in the pew behind you, the baby crying in the back, the bored woman fighting back a yawn in front of you, and actually get involved. Every word, every movement, every gesture and response is full of purpose, dripping with meaning, and is regarded as something sacred. Every symbol, icon, statue, stained glass window, and gilded chalice firmly points towards Jesus Christ and him crucified.
And I urge you to pay special attention to the Liturgy of the Eucharist. It is through those words that Heaven pours itself down onto the altar and Christ appears. Not the spirit of Christ, or a symbol, but Christ himself is truly present to us there, and we fall to our knees in true worship and awe.
And after you let that wash over you, realize that for all the fun and fellowship and bible study you experience at your church, the raw sacredness simply isn't there. The reverence and adoration of Christ's real presence isn't on display in all it's glory. And then realize why it can't be.
And then come home.
Of course, my two favorite Masses of the year are the Evening Mass of Lord's Supper, and the Easter Vigil two evenings later. Their striking liturgical beauty, the way they bookend the Triduum, calling us to partake in the universal plea for salvation that is the Passion. Also, their length. People seem to think I'm out of my mind when I mention that I wish that Sunday Mass was about a half-hour longer. But once you realize what's happening during the Sacred Liturgy, why wouldn't you want it to last a little longer? It enraptures your mind, and you just don't want it to end. This year however, as I sat in my pew (left center, front row) on Thursday evening, and later at the Vigil, a thought struck me.
My Protestant brothers and sisters, I love you guys. We share so much, we can rejoice together in the fact that Christ paid a debt for us that we could never hope to fulfill. But guys, you've got nothing like this. And, you know, it's not your fault. The problem is, you subscribe to a theology that simply can't. It doesn't matter if you're Baptist, Presbyterian, Methodist, even Lutheran or Episcopalian. Trinitarian, Unitarian, Bitarian. Conservative, Liberal, Progressive, Universalist. It doesn't matter. You reject tenants of Christianity that prevent you from partaking in the fullness of worship.
Sermons are great. They can stir the heart and inspire us to Christian action. But they aren't the point of gathering together on the Lord's day. Theme weekends, bible lecture series, fellowship and hugs and spiritual gifts, these things are great, but they aren't the point. They never have been, they never will be. From the beginning, Christians have gathered for one reason.
Worship.
Of course, at this point you may be tempted to say "Well, I worship best listening to a great sermon and singing heartfelt hymns!". And my reply would be no. You don't. You worship best by worshiping the way God wants to be worshiped.
I don't say this to attack or condemn those that fall into the categories I mentioned. You've developed a relationship with Christ, and that's what it's all about. But at some point, you've got to take that relationship to the next level. The level Christ has called for us to attain.
My challenge to you is this: Go to Mass. The Triduum season is over, but we celebrate Christ's death and resurrection every week. Every day, in fact. Attend the liturgy and listen. Follow along and participate. Ignore the kids fighting in the pew behind you, the baby crying in the back, the bored woman fighting back a yawn in front of you, and actually get involved. Every word, every movement, every gesture and response is full of purpose, dripping with meaning, and is regarded as something sacred. Every symbol, icon, statue, stained glass window, and gilded chalice firmly points towards Jesus Christ and him crucified.
And I urge you to pay special attention to the Liturgy of the Eucharist. It is through those words that Heaven pours itself down onto the altar and Christ appears. Not the spirit of Christ, or a symbol, but Christ himself is truly present to us there, and we fall to our knees in true worship and awe.
And after you let that wash over you, realize that for all the fun and fellowship and bible study you experience at your church, the raw sacredness simply isn't there. The reverence and adoration of Christ's real presence isn't on display in all it's glory. And then realize why it can't be.
And then come home.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
The Other as Other
It's February, which means that a trip to the store or even simply tuning into the latest episode of your favorite sitcom is going to make it painfully evident that Valentine's Day is just around the corner, and by God you had better remember because this is SERIOUS BUSINESS.
And don't get me wrong, I have no problem with Valentine's Day. In fact, I've always kind of liked it, even in those (many) years where I was single. It's a nice day to celebrate relationships, even with the various cliches like chocolates and flowers and little teddy bears. I'm good with all of that.
But amidst all of the gift giving and dinner and what-not, I feel like most people miss the point of what Love really is (if they ever really knew what it was before, and in my experience most do not). If you ask most people, you're likely to get an answer somewhere in the vicinity of "Well, it's what you feel when you look at the person and you just know how wonderful it is" or a related answer. Basically, your standard Hollywood-fueled response. But here's the question; Is this true?
Scripture never describes love as primarily an emotion, but rather an action. The famous verses from 1 Corinthians 13 go into some detail on the subject:
We can neither add to or take away from God. That is the fundamental principle in understanding what love really looks like. See, if God is perfect and self-sufficient in the most complete meaning of the term, He has no selfish reason to create us. He can't manipulate us, or use us, He has no interest in that. Those things are against His very nature. Which leaves us with one option, and one option alone.
We are here due to a wholly(holy?) generous act of Love. See, God isn't a being that loves, but rather God is Love. When we realize this fact, when we realize that the creator God of the universe loves us enough that He went out of His way to create us for no other reason than so that we may be alive in Him, surging forward as agents of His Divine Mercy, when we learn that our worth stems from this alone, we sink into a great spiritual sense of relaxation. And by opening ourselves up to that relaxation, we become even greater conduits of God's Love.
We are meant to emulate God, to project His Love. So we must accept that Love is not a feeling, but an action. Now, I'm not saying that emotion and passion aren't important things in the human relationship experience. Of course they are. But, in my opinion, our mistaking those emotions and passions FOR love itself is primarily what has contributed to the destruction of the marriage in our society.
So this Valentine's Day, and every day after that, go act out your love for other people. Have a spouse, or a boy/girlfriend? Great, show them that you understand what love really is. Single? Awesome, go volunteer. Become a conduit for God's Love towards others, pouring forth His mercy in whatever way you are able. Even if it's inconvenient.
Especially if it's inconvenient.
And don't get me wrong, I have no problem with Valentine's Day. In fact, I've always kind of liked it, even in those (many) years where I was single. It's a nice day to celebrate relationships, even with the various cliches like chocolates and flowers and little teddy bears. I'm good with all of that.
But amidst all of the gift giving and dinner and what-not, I feel like most people miss the point of what Love really is (if they ever really knew what it was before, and in my experience most do not). If you ask most people, you're likely to get an answer somewhere in the vicinity of "Well, it's what you feel when you look at the person and you just know how wonderful it is" or a related answer. Basically, your standard Hollywood-fueled response. But here's the question; Is this true?
Scripture never describes love as primarily an emotion, but rather an action. The famous verses from 1 Corinthians 13 go into some detail on the subject:
Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.That's a lot of actions words. So if our previous idea of love is incorrect, then what is? Well, St. Thomas Aquinas gives us a wonderful definition; Love is willing the good of the other as other. In other words, it means wanting the best for someone else for no other reason AT ALL other than the fact that they are someone else. Seems simple enough, right? But what does something like that mean for us really?
We can neither add to or take away from God. That is the fundamental principle in understanding what love really looks like. See, if God is perfect and self-sufficient in the most complete meaning of the term, He has no selfish reason to create us. He can't manipulate us, or use us, He has no interest in that. Those things are against His very nature. Which leaves us with one option, and one option alone.
We are here due to a wholly(holy?) generous act of Love. See, God isn't a being that loves, but rather God is Love. When we realize this fact, when we realize that the creator God of the universe loves us enough that He went out of His way to create us for no other reason than so that we may be alive in Him, surging forward as agents of His Divine Mercy, when we learn that our worth stems from this alone, we sink into a great spiritual sense of relaxation. And by opening ourselves up to that relaxation, we become even greater conduits of God's Love.
We are meant to emulate God, to project His Love. So we must accept that Love is not a feeling, but an action. Now, I'm not saying that emotion and passion aren't important things in the human relationship experience. Of course they are. But, in my opinion, our mistaking those emotions and passions FOR love itself is primarily what has contributed to the destruction of the marriage in our society.
So this Valentine's Day, and every day after that, go act out your love for other people. Have a spouse, or a boy/girlfriend? Great, show them that you understand what love really is. Single? Awesome, go volunteer. Become a conduit for God's Love towards others, pouring forth His mercy in whatever way you are able. Even if it's inconvenient.
Especially if it's inconvenient.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
The Walls of a Playground
So this video has been making the rounds on Facebook. Rather unsurprisingly, it's got a lot of positive praise. And hey, there are several moments in the video that really shine through as wonderfully orthodox.
A lot of people tend to fall into the trap of thinking that if something is said with passion and sincerity, it must be true. Which I understand, of course. Passion moves us, speaks to our hearts. But of course, once you really think about it, you realize that it is entirely possible, even probable, to be passionately and sincerely wrong.
"I hate Religion, but I love Jesus". Man, what a statement. And really, it's quite the powerful image, isn't it? Repressed men breaking free of the shackles that bind them, loosing the bonds of slavery to a corrupt institution of greedy oligarchs. Praise the Lord for delivering us from Evil!
Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them. Mt 5:17 (ESV)
...wait, what?
Does Jesus hate Religion? He established a Church, appointed a man to be it's foundational leader, and built up a hierarchy of Bishops, Presbyters, and Deacons. The New Testament clearly records guidelines, rules, even doctrines that were used in this early Church. The early Church Fathers continued this traditional understanding. Pope St. Clement's letter to the church in Corinth, one of the earliest extra-biblical Christian documents we know of, written even before the close of the Apostolic age, details clear rules of Apostolic succession and Hierarchical authority.
But why have Religion? Why have rules and doctrines and restrictive Dogmas? GK Chesterton put it best, I believe:
"Those countries in Europe which are still influenced by priests, are exactly the countries where there is still singing and dancing and coloured dresses and art in the open-air. Catholic doctrine and discipline may be walls; but they are the walls of a playground. Christianity is the only frame which has preserved the pleasure of Paganism. We might fancy some children playing on the flat grassy top of some tall island in the sea. So long as there was a wall round the cliff’s edge they could fling themselves into every frantic game and make the place the noisiest of nurseries. But the walls were knocked down, leaving the naked peril of the precipice. They did not fall over; but when their friends returned to them they were all huddled in terror in the centre of the island; and their song had ceased."
-Orthodoxy
Chapter 9
So why are we, time and time again, so attracted to the notion of breaking down those walls and exposing our souls to the "naked peril of the precipice"? What is so alluring about the New Age call to arms of "I'm not Religious, I'm Spiritual"?
The foundation of sin is Pride. In many ways, "Pride" in simply another word for sin. So what is Pride, really? Fundamentally it is the act of a person saying "I am like God". Declaring it in our words, our actions, our prayers. Man's Original Sin was the fruit of a temptation to throw off the shackles of naivety. It stands to reason then that the rebellious spirit that infected Adam and Eve would naturally run it's streak through our own souls.
Now, it's safe to say that many have lost sight of Christ through the hazy forest of rules. I'm not arguing that in any way. Are religious people sinners? Of course, we all are. Are religious people selfish, cruel, and often times blind to the Grace of God? Well yes. Again, we ALL are, more often than not.
I've made this point to a number of people in reaction to that video. And usually their response is something along the lines of "Well sure, but he makes some really good points about religion being misused", or "You're probably right, I think he might just need to clarify his stance about how people shouldn't judge other people." Which is all well and good, but for one problem. He's not making those points. That's not his intention, and he doesn't pretend it is. The words he uses are "I hate Religion", "Jesus hates Religion", "Jesus came to abolish Religion", "Religion is the infection", etc.
Make no mistake. I do not presume to judge this man's faith journey. He needs to follow whatever path God has laid out for him. But I would offer him these words of caution:
The comparison of "Religion is man seeking God, Christianity is God seeking man" is a dangerous fallacy. God found us. In fact, God never lost us. He is there, screaming down that He loves us, sacrificing His only Son to highlight that point dramatically. Religion is not man seeking God, but rather man responding to God's love. He wants us to dance with joy, to sing songs of praise, and He has given us the gift of religion, not to bind us but to keep us from falling over the precipice of our own sinful natures and into the dark abyss.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Does God speak Latin?
This blog went live in June of 2010. And here we are, making our first post now in January of 2011. Finally. I guess take from that what you will.
So I don't fully understand the Traditionalist mentality.
I mean, yes, I get it. The Novus Ordo Missae apparently lacks some of the theological beauty of the Latin Mass. I would even agree, in a limited way. Not to say that the vernacular Mass is lacking in theological beauty. Because it's not. The recent translation revisions were probably necessary, and I like them a lot. But if they were never made, it wouldn't really matter.
See, the point of the Mass is worshipful prayer. Eucharistic Adoration. The re-presentation of the once-and-for-all sacrifice of Christ on the cross. Are the rubrics important? The liturgical norms, the GIRM specifics? The way the words are spoken, and the order in which they are presented? Absolutely. Heck yes.
But let's be honest here. What do you REALLY need for Mass? A Priest, a loaf of wheat bread, and a Bible. Maybe some grape wine as well, but I don't even know of that's totally necessary. Now, I'm not saying that minimization of the liturgy should be the norm, but it makes, I think, an important point.
Words have power. We all know that. But when those words aren't fully understood, that power is stripped or, even worse, redirected in a negative way. Vatican II understood this fundamental truth, and took steps. Now, I'm not a fan of the "Keep the spirit, not the letter" mentality that was applied to many of the vernacular translations(the English in particular), but to reduce the entire council, the new Mass, and every Pope since as invalid or un-Catholic is, in my humble and oft-wrong opinion, not only an extreme and shortsightedly legalistic view, but straight-up sinful.
Plus, their arguments are always filled with silly rationalizations, non sequitur quotes from the Saints, and some impressive verbal gymnastics. Even trying to read some Traditionalist websites is an exercise in frustration. I'm looking at you, Society of St. Pius X.
Does God speak Latin? Well, I guess technically He does. But if He had to have a favorite language my money would be on Hebrew. Maybe Greek, possibly Aramaic.
Or hey, I know. How about Faith? That language of the believing heart that is, in the eyes of a God who not only loves but is Love itself, the most beautiful and passionate translation of the Liturgy there is.
So I don't fully understand the Traditionalist mentality.
I mean, yes, I get it. The Novus Ordo Missae apparently lacks some of the theological beauty of the Latin Mass. I would even agree, in a limited way. Not to say that the vernacular Mass is lacking in theological beauty. Because it's not. The recent translation revisions were probably necessary, and I like them a lot. But if they were never made, it wouldn't really matter.
See, the point of the Mass is worshipful prayer. Eucharistic Adoration. The re-presentation of the once-and-for-all sacrifice of Christ on the cross. Are the rubrics important? The liturgical norms, the GIRM specifics? The way the words are spoken, and the order in which they are presented? Absolutely. Heck yes.
But let's be honest here. What do you REALLY need for Mass? A Priest, a loaf of wheat bread, and a Bible. Maybe some grape wine as well, but I don't even know of that's totally necessary. Now, I'm not saying that minimization of the liturgy should be the norm, but it makes, I think, an important point.
Words have power. We all know that. But when those words aren't fully understood, that power is stripped or, even worse, redirected in a negative way. Vatican II understood this fundamental truth, and took steps. Now, I'm not a fan of the "Keep the spirit, not the letter" mentality that was applied to many of the vernacular translations(the English in particular), but to reduce the entire council, the new Mass, and every Pope since as invalid or un-Catholic is, in my humble and oft-wrong opinion, not only an extreme and shortsightedly legalistic view, but straight-up sinful.
Plus, their arguments are always filled with silly rationalizations, non sequitur quotes from the Saints, and some impressive verbal gymnastics. Even trying to read some Traditionalist websites is an exercise in frustration. I'm looking at you, Society of St. Pius X.
Does God speak Latin? Well, I guess technically He does. But if He had to have a favorite language my money would be on Hebrew. Maybe Greek, possibly Aramaic.
Or hey, I know. How about Faith? That language of the believing heart that is, in the eyes of a God who not only loves but is Love itself, the most beautiful and passionate translation of the Liturgy there is.
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