Category Archives: Faith

Understanding the Catholic Church through St. John Lateran

This Sunday (Nov. 9th) we interrupted our regular calendar to celebrate “St. John Lateran.” Who is he, and why does his celebration rank above a Sunday in Ordinary Time, when famous saints like Francis of Assisi or Patrick do not? Well, first of all, he is not a person! Instead, we are celebrating the dedication of a church in Rome. That just leads to a new question, though: out of all of the tremendous churches in Rome, why is this the only one that merits such an honor? Not even St. Peter’s Basilica is celebrated in this way. It struck me that if someone understands the significance of this celebration, they will understand much of how the Catholic Church understands itself. This post is not meant to be a definitive response to every question, but I hope to at least lay out a schema to get the big picture view. I’ll put some section headings in case that helps you to jump to the area of your interest!

Jesus’ plan to found a Church, built upon the Apostles, with Peter as the leader of the Apostles, and true unity as the goal

We believe that Jesus came to found a Church, the fulfillment of the promises in the Old Testament. The clearest statement of this is when Jesus gives Simon his new name of Peter: “I name you Peter [which means “rock”], and on this rock I will build my Church” (Matthew 16:18). Jesus is ultimately the foundation upon which the Church is built: “for no one can lay a foundation other than the one that is there, namely, Jesus Christ” (1 Corinthians 3:11). But, the Apostles are likewise essential in the foundation of the Church. The book of Revelation describes their names as forming the foundation stones of the full realization of the Church in the heavenly Jerusalem: “And the wall of the city had twelve foundation stones, and on them were the twelve names of the twelve apostles of the Lamb” (Rev. 21:14). St. Paul draws these two aspects together in his letter to the Ephesians: “So then you are no longer strangers and sojourners, but you are fellow citizens with the holy ones and members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the capstone. Through him the whole structure is held together and grows into a temple sacred in the Lord” (Eph. 2:19-21). 

The Apostles were a distinct group among those who followed Jesus. As we hear in Luke 6:12-13, “In those days he departed to the mountain to pray, and he spent the night in prayer to God. When day came, he called his disciples to himself, and from them he chose Twelve, whom he also named apostles.” Jesus called them to a special role of leadership within the Church, guarding its unity and teaching. We see this in their role in interpreting which parts of the Old Testament still applied to Christians (the Council of Jerusalem in Acts of the Apostles, Chapter 15). Questions of interpreting the Scriptures would arise throughout history, and Jesus instituted a specific ministry to respond to this need, beginning with the Apostles. Otherwise, how could one trust a particular interpretation over another who spoke with equal sincerity/persuasiveness? This structure gives a visible marker for unity. The institution of the Apostles actually comes before the writing of the New Testament, as this provided a context to receive these inspired works and to interpret them correctly. The early Church could not possibly have lived in a “Scripture alone” mode of life, disregarding the teaching of the Apostles and the tradition handed down by them. As St. Paul wrote to the Thessalonians, “Therefore, brothers, stand firm and hold fast to the traditions that you were taught, either by an oral statement or by a letter of ours” (2 Thess. 2:15). Otherwise, “a text without a context becomes a pretext” (as the saying goes), to be used however the interpreter sees fit.

We see the authority of the Apostles in the verse immediately after Jesus gives Simon the name of Peter: “I will give you the keys to the kingdom of heaven. Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven; and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven” (Matthew 16:19). In fact, Peter is given the specific role as the leader of the Twelve Apostles. In addition to His words in Matthew 16, we see Peter listed first in the various lists of Apostles, and exercising leadership (for example, being the one to call for the election of Matthias and delivering the first sermon on Pentecost). Jesus tells Peter, out of all of the Apostles at the Last Supper, “I have prayed that your own faith may not fail; and once you have turned back, you must strengthen your brothers” (Luke 22:32). 

What type of community is he supposed to strengthen? In the words after the Last Supper, Jesus prays that the unity of the Church may be the same as that between Him and His heavenly Father: “I pray not only for them, but also for those who will believe in me through their word, so that they may all be one, as you, Father, are in me and I in you, that they also may be in us, that the world may believe that you sent me” (John 17:20-21). We believe that Jesus wants a true unity in the Church – using the perfect unity of the Trinity as a model. This doesn’t mean absolute uniformity – the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit remain distinct Persons within the Trinity – but it also excludes a loose federation that only has an external appearance of unity. He wants us to really work together, to share a common Faith and structure. Like a tree, there is a difference between branches that all share a common life with the roots and the trunk, and various trees (or dead branches) that are merely in proximity to each other. It is for this reason that the Catholic Church does not see the plan of Jesus to be various communities that each have their own version of Christianity, accepting part of the structure (preaching, music, the Scriptures), but rejecting the parts that they do not prefer (the seven Sacraments, ordained ministry, the Eucharist). This is not a claim that “we are right because we are so amazing,” but an attempt to be faithful to those marks of the Church that the early Christians saw as essential to the plan of Jesus: One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic (as outlined in the Nicene Creed).

The growth of the Church from the Apostles to the present structure

After the Resurrection, Jesus spent forty days with the disciples until His Ascension (Acts 1:3). He then invited them to pray, and they received the Holy Spirit on the fiftieth day, Pentecost (Acts 2:1). After this, the Apostles led the initial Church in Jerusalem itself. The Apostles eventually went to spread the message of Christ outside of Jerusalem, adding new members to the Church. This included new leaders who were given the title of Apostle (e.g., Matthias in Acts 1:26 to replace Judas Iscariot, and St. Paul in 1 Corinthians 1:1). They formed new communities of the faithful in other towns. As mentioned above, the believers were to share a true unity, not just something superficial. The Apostles initially provided the foundation of this unity, but they were called to move on (and would not live on earth forever). They left behind them newly ordained leaders called “bishops” (literally, “overseers,” e.g. Acts 20:28). St. Paul writes his letters to Timothy and Titus as ones who are undertaking this responsibility, having received this grace through the imposition of his hands (i.e., ordination, 2 Timothy 1:6). The Apostles and other bishops alone were not enough to care for all of the pastoral need, and so we see the ordination of deacons (Acts 6) and priests (the English abbreviation of presbyters, e.g. Acts 20:17). 

Thus we have the basic structure of the Church: local communities cared for by priests and deacons (which we now call “parishes”), larger groups of parishes cared for by a bishop (which we now call a “diocese”), and a true communion of bishops under the successor of St. Peter (who we now call the “Pope,” an English nickname for the Bishop of Rome). To go back to the analogy of the tree, these are branches that all draw from the same root structure/inner life.

Two early witnesses to this structure of the Church: St. Ignatius of Antioch and St. Irenaeus of Lyons

This is not some sort of late medieval development, or even one that came about only after Constantine legalized Christianity in the Roman Empire in 313 AD. One of the clearest articulations of it is by St. Ignatius of Antioch, who was martyred around the year 107 AD, very much within the living memory of the time of the Apostles. We have seven letters of his as he traveled on his way to martyrdom. He writes, “See that you all follow the bishop, even as Jesus Christ does the Father, and the priests as you would the apostles; and reverence the deacons, as being the institution of God. Let no man do anything connected with the Church without the bishop… Wherever the bishop shall appear, there let the multitude [of the people] also be; even as, wherever Jesus Christ is, there is the Catholic Church… Whatsoever [the bishop] shall approve of, that is also pleasing to God, so that everything that is done may be secure and valid” (Letter to the Smyrnaeans, Ch 8). In the next part of that letter, he adds, “Let all things therefore be done by you with good order in Christ. Let the laity be subject to the deacons; the deacons to the priests; the priests to the bishop; the bishop to Christ, even as He is to the Father” (Ch 9). This does not mean that the laity are mere servants of the ordained – on the contrary, we remember that Jesus instructed the Apostles that their role “was to serve, not to be served” (Matthew 20:28). Instead, it highlights the particular responsibility that the ordained have to serve the unity of the Church by providing something other than charismatic leaders providing their own “version” of the Church. 

St. Irenaeus of Lyons (who died around 200 AD) is another clear witness to the presence of the Church’s structure well before Constantine. He wrote a famous book called “Against Heresies” – in other words, correcting errors in understandings of the Faith. He writes, “One should not seek among others the truth that can be easily gotten from the Church. For in her, as in a rich treasury, the apostles have placed all that pertains to truth, so that everyone can drink this beverage of life. She is the door of life. For she is the entrance to life; all others are thieves and robbers” (Book III, 4.1). Irenaeus traces the path from the Apostles to the present, focusing specifically on the Church of Rome. As he says, he does this, “by indicating that tradition derived from the apostles, of the very great, the very ancient, and universally known Church founded and organized at Rome by the two most glorious apostles, Peter and Paul; as also [by pointing out] the faith preached to men, which comes down to our time by means of the successions of the bishops. For it is a matter of necessity that every Church should agree with this Church, on account of its pre-eminent authority” (Book III, 3.2). He then gives the list of the twelve bishops of Rome who followed Peter up until the time of his writing, showing the importance of tracking this office even for someone like him living in a distant land.

Why St. John Lateran, though?

I will finally get down to answering my initial question! Given that the Church is built upon the structure of ‘local parish, local diocese, and universal Church,’ each community celebrates the dedication of three churches in its calendar: that of the local parish church, that of the principal church of the bishop of their diocese (called a Cathedral), and that of the Cathedral of the Bishop of Rome (the Pope). While the new St. Peter’s Basilica is more famous (built in the 1500s), the basilica in the Lateran territory actually has had the more significant history over the years (founded in 324 AD). The early Christians were not able to build significant public structures due to the periods of Roman persecution, and so used subtle places like homes or the catacombs. When Constantine opened up public celebration in 313 AD, he gave the Church space in the Lateran territory. Buildings of an architectural style called “basilicas” were located in Rome, and could easily be converted into churches (having large open areas and a raised platform at the end). One of these was adapted to become the Bishop of Rome’s chief church, and this is the origin of “St. John Lateran.”

One of the most confusing factors is that the name “St. John Lateran “ is just a modern English abbreviation, not the church’s actual name. Its real name is, “the Archbasilica of the Most Holy Savior and Saints John the Baptist and John the Evangelist at the Lateran.” It is the Pope’s Cathedral, and therefore the “mother church” of the whole Catholic Church. It has picked up the patronage of the two St. Johns, and in common parlance that became the shorthand, along with its geographical area of the Lateran territory. However, while the other three Major Basilicas are dedicated to the key Biblical saints of Mary, Peter, and Paul, the Pope’s Cathedral is primarily dedicated to Jesus Christ, the Most Holy Savior, and the ultimate foundation of the Church. Amen!

Tolkien’s Vision of Creation, Sin, and Redemption

Background on Tolkien’s approach to writing myth/legend

JRR Tolkien had a profound theology/philosophy of what it meant to write mythology. Rather than denigrating it as “mere” fiction, he saw creating mythology as an aspect of what it means to be made in the image of God. If God is a Creator, then we are “sub-creators,” capable of devising “Secondary Worlds” that reflect the real/“Primary World.” We see throughout the Scriptures the way that God invites us into His work, not choosing to do everything apart from us, but calling humans constantly to be co-workers with the plan of redemption. Saints are not “rivals” to God’s work (as some misunderstand it), but rather shining examples of God’s grace in action.

Tolkien saw the challenge of authors to be to create a Secondary World with the “the inner consistency of reality.” If this was done correctly, readers would be able to imagine themselves actually living in that world – something that Tolkien called “Secondary Belief.” He wrote: “To make a Secondary World inside which the green sun will be credible, commanding Secondary Belief, will probably require labour and thought, and will certainly demand a special skill, a kind of elvish craft. Few attempt such difficult tasks. But when they are attempted and in any degree accomplished then we have a rare achievement of Art: indeed narrative art, story-making in its primary and most potent mode” (from his essay “On Fairy Stories”).

This Secondary World has to be like our world in some ways, but unlike it in others. The difference is what allows it to shock us out of the familiarity that makes us miss what is truly fantastic in our everyday experience. It also lets us see old truths in new ways. It is similar to Jesus’ use of parables – images that draw us into truth through story. In one of his most significant letters, Tolkien explains, “I believe that legends and myths are largely made up of ‘truth,’ and indeed present aspects of it that can only be received in this mode” (Letter 131). 

Tolkien’s Image of Creation

On this note, I want to share a little about the way that Tolkien approached Creation in his Legendarium (“Legendarium” refers to the massive amount of background material that he prepared around the stories of the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings). This text can be found in the Silmarillion, the central writings that were put together and published after his death by his son Christopher. Here I give the text written by Tolkien in italics, with my commentary in brackets. You will notice that Tolkien writes the text in a more archaic style, a method to evoke the sense that we are reading something from the olden days. He uses the image of singing to represent sharing in the thought and music of God. It is set as a prelude to the actual creation of the world, considering how God might have planned for the work that was to come. This happens through the cooperation of the Ainur, who represent the highest angels – including Melkor, the one who introduces discord into the song (representing the devil). This account of creation shows the way that God works through this interference to create beauty.

There was Eru, the One, who in Arda is called Ilúvatar; and he made first the Ainur, the Holy Ones, that were the offspring of his thought, and they were with him before aught else was made. And he spoke to them, propounding to them themes of music; and they sang before him, and he was glad. But for a long while they sang only each alone, or but few together, while the rest hearkened; for each comprehended only that part of the mind of Iluvatar from which he came, and in the understanding of their brethren they grew but slowly. Yet ever as they listened they came to deeper understanding, and increased in unison and harmony.

 [“Eru” means “the One,” and is the first title given to God by Tolkien. It represents one aspect of the truth perceived in many stories of God – that this being is the one who has no equal. The second title – “Ilúvatar” – means “All-father.” It highlights a second key aspect of God perceived by religion broadly speaking, that God is the “uncaused cause,” the one who exists by nature and not by previous action of another being, the Creator of creation. The creation of the Ainur corresponds to the creation of the angels.]

And it came to pass that Iluvatar called together all the Ainur and declared to them a mighty theme, unfolding to them things greater and more wonderful than he had yet revealed; and the glory of its beginning and the splendour of its end amazed the Ainur, so that they bowed before Iluvatar and were silent. Then Iluvatar said to them: ‘Of the theme that I have declared to you, I will now that ye make in harmony together a Great Music. And since I have kindled you with the Flame Imperishable, ye shall show forth your powers in adorning this theme, each with his own thoughts and devices, if he will. But I will sit and hearken, and be glad that through you great beauty has been wakened into song…

[Here God invites the angels to share in his work of creation – they are entrusted with the role of “sub-creating” (explained in the first part of this post), to utilize the gifts given to them by God to enrich the world. Chief of these gifts is the “Flame Imperishable, which represents a share in God’s own uncreated life, which incorporates the ideas of existence and grace]

But as the theme progressed, it came into the heart of Melkor to interweave matters of his own imagining that were not in accord with the theme of Iluvatar; for he sought therein to increase the power and glory of the part assigned to himself. To Melkor among the Ainur had been given the greatest gifts of power and knowledge, and he had a share in all the gifts of his brethren. He had gone often alone into the void places seeking the Imperishable Flame; for desire grew hot within him to bring into Being things of his own, and it seemed to him that Iluvatar took no thought for the Void, and he was impatient of its emptiness. Yet he found not the Fire, for it is with Iluvatar. But being alone he had begun to conceive thoughts of his own unlike those of his brethren. Some of these thoughts he now wove into his music, and straight-way discord arose about him, and many that sang nigh him grew despondent, and their thought was disturbed and their music faltered; but some began to attune their music to his rather than to the thought which they had at first. Then the discord of Melkor spread ever wider, and the melodies which had been heard before foundered in a sea of turbulent sound. But Iluvatar sat and hearkened until it seemed that about his throne there was a raging storm, as of dark waters that made war one upon another in an endless wrath that would not be assuaged.

[Melkor is the representation of Satan/Lucifer – created as a high angel, but who turned away from God out of pride. Tolkien represents this pride as seeking the Fire (God’s life) apart from God, and his disruption of the plan of creation as introducing discord into the singing of the Ainur, leading to the fall of others.]

Then Iluvatar arose, and the Ainur perceived that he smiled; and he lifted up his left hand, and a new theme began amid the storm, like and yet unlike to the former theme, and it gathered power and had new beauty. 

[Here, God introduces a counter theme to the discord of Melkor/Satan. This is the promise of redemption (see Genesis 3:15). Rather than destroying us after the Fall, God chooses to redeem us – like the decision to renovate a house instead of demolish it.]

But the discord of Melkor rose in uproar and contended with it, and again there was a war of sound more violent than before, until many of the Ainur were dismayed and sang no longer, and Melkor had the mastery. Then again Iluvatar arose, and the Ainur perceived that his countenance was stern; and he lifted up his right hand, and behold! a third theme grew amid the confusion, and it was unlike the others. For it seemed at first soft and sweet, a mere rippling of gentle sounds in delicate melodies; but it could not be quenched, and it took to itself power and profundity. And it seemed at last that there were two musics progressing at one time before the seat of Iluvatar, and they were utterly at variance. The one was deep and wide and beautiful, but slow and blended with an immeasurable sorrow, from which its beauty chiefly came. The other had now achieved a unity of its own; but it was loud, and vain, and endlessly repeated; and it had little harmony, but rather a clamorous unison as of many trumpets braying upon a few notes. And it essayed to drown the other music by the violence of its voice, but it seemed that its most triumphant notes were taken by the other and woven into its own solemn pattern. 

[Melkor contends against the plan of salvation by pushing for a new discord (which Tolkien describes as “loud, and vain, and endlessly repeated” – depicting the way that sin has a repetitive and uncreative aspect about it). God counters with an even more profound theme (the salvation of Christ, which brings good out of evil – “deep and wide and beautiful, but slow and blended with an immeasurable sorrow, from which its beauty chiefly came”). One can understand the way Tolkien describes this if familiar with the challenges of his own life – the death of his father when he was three years old, the shunning of his mother by her family when she entered the Catholic Church, the death of his mother when he was twelve years old, his time as an orphan, the challenging courtship of the love of his life, his experience of the horrors of trench warfare as a soldier in World War I, and the death/separation of all of his close friends from the same conflict. Despite all of these sorrows and reasons for despair, Tolkien found healing and hope in the Gospel. He did not see faith as something for the faint of heart, but something that could confront real darkness and bring light.]

In the midst of this strife, whereat the halls of Iluvatar shook and a tremor ran out into the silences yet unmoved, Iluvatar arose a third time, and his face was terrible to behold. Then he raised up both his hands, and in one chord, deeper than the Abyss, higher than the Firmament, piercing as the light of the eye of Iluvatar, the Music ceased. Then Iluvatar spoke, and he said: ‘Mighty are the Ainur, and mightiest among them is Melkor; but that he may know, and all the Ainur, that I am Iluvatar, those things that ye have sung, I will show them forth, that ye may see what ye have done. And thou, Melkor, shalt see that no theme may be played that hath not its uttermost source in me, nor can any alter the music in my despite. For he that attempteth this shall prove but mine instrument in the devising of things more wonderful, which he himself hath not imagined.

[Finally, God brings the music to an end, representing the definitive plan for the course of the world. The singing represented the formation of the plan of Creation – now God will play out the music through events: Creation, the Fall, the Redemption, and the time of the Church until the end of the world. In this process, Tolkien gives a response to the problem of evil. This is seen especially in the final sentences (if it is helpful, here is a rendering in modern speech: “And you, Melkor, will see that nothing can be done that does not have its ultimate basis in me, nor can anyone change the course of events without my permission. For the one who tries to work against me, will find that I use the attempts to disrupt my plan to bring about things even more wonderful, and which the one disrupting me did not even imagine”). In this, God highlights that He will use the evil introduced by Melkor to produce greater beauty. This is where the analogy of music particularly shines – musical notes that seem to only make discord in the melody can be woven in with other notes to make a pleasing harmony. The music becomes richer for this, rather than uglier. This truth is proclaimed during the Exsultet at the Easter Vigil: “Oh happy fault that earned so great, so glorious a Redeemer.” Instead of just restoring Adam and Eve to the life that they had in the Garden, God gives us a deeper, more profound share in the life of Christ on earth, and in His glory in heaven. In the end, Melkor’s plots against God only result in a greater mercy.]

I hope that this meditation is helpful for you to see the mystery of the Creation, the Fall, and the Redemption in a new light!

A Canticle for Leibowitz

[Week 10 of the Imagination in Action reflection series. Theme this week: the Teaching of the Apostles]

What will the world look like in 600 years? Walter Miller approaches not only this question in “A Canticle for Leibowitz,” but also what the world will look like 600 years after that… and 600 years after that! Originally published in 1959, this novel is drawn from three short stories he had written for a sci-fi magazine. Taken together they give a speculative view to the future that has deep resonance with the past.

Miller’s story is set in a post-apocalyptic society brought about by nuclear war. Beyond the destruction caused by the bombs themselves, this had led to a strong backlash against all technology. During a period called “the Simplification” books were destroyed and scientists hunted down as criminals. One scientist – Isaac Leibowitz – had found refuge in a Cistercian monastery (a Catholic religious order developed from the Rule of St Benedict). He ultimately chose to enter the monastery and dedicate himself to the preservation of knowledge, becoming a “booklegger.” Leibowitz eventually founded the Albertian Order to continue this mission.

The first section of “A Canticle for Leibowtiz” picks up 600 years after this backstory. It is now the 26th century and the world is still largely in chaos. The Albertian Order continues its work of preserving knowledge. They have stored up not only religious knowledge, but all the aspects of scientific and artistic knowledge that they could as well. The next section jumps forward 600 years to 3174 AD. A new Renaissance has broken out with the re-invention of electricity drawn from the Albertian Order’s knowledge. Finally, the novel concludes with a section set in the year 3781 AD in which the world is once again on the brink of nuclear war (I’ll stop the recap here to avoid spoiling the ending!). Utilizing this structure allows Miller to look at the way some things change and others stay the same, with a dazzling scope of action.

Miller’s choice of structure was hardly random. The author had participated in the World War II battle of Monte Cassino in 1944. This mountain in Italy held a monastery founded by St Benedict in 529 AD. It was not in use during the time of the battle, and was destroyed because it was suspected of providing cover for Axis troops. The battle was a traumatic experience for Miller and inspired the plot of the Canticle. He sought to draw a parallel with the life of the abbey in the three sections of the book. Benedict had founded this monastery during the decline of the Roman Empire, and the monastic tradition stood as a strong barrier to the loss of knowledge during the “Dark Age” of the barbarians. The printing press was not invented until the 1400’s, and so a large reason that we have much of the knowledge of antiquity that we do is on account of monks copying texts by hand. As in the novel, in this way the Church preserved both theological texts and the classical works that formed the foundation of the renewal brought by organizations such as the University of Paris, the Dominicans, and the Franciscans in the 13th century. From here was sparked the Renaissance and the development to the modern period, which had led to World War II and the Cold War in the time during which Miller wrote his book.

These parallels direct us to reflect on cycles of history. What do we learn from the past, and what does this knowledge get us? War had shown Miller the way that advanced knowledge did not necessarily lead to a better society. However, he did not see the answer in the type of “simplification” he portrays in the novel (seeking to destroy the past), but by trying to return to the sources of knowledge for insight on how to build a better world. Miller had been drawn to become a Catholic after his experience in the battle of Monte Cassino. Although the Church is often portrayed as an opponent to knowledge, he had seen that this is not truly borne out in a study of history. He saw the positive commitment to the preservation of wisdom in the monks of St Benedict, as well as theologians such as St Albert the Great (a Dominican master of theology and the natural sciences, and the source of the name of the Order that Leibowitz founds in the novel). In fact, the Church sees both faith and human reason as avenues provided by God to reach truth (St John Paul II used the image of the two wings that lead a bird to flight). They enlighten one another, and only come in conflict when one is distorted in contrast to the other.

For this reason, I think study actually proves to be a key aspect of the spiritual life. Faith is not an enemy to the life of the mind. Although “study” may give the sense of boring “book learning,” this is a reductive view of the term. Instead, I think it is best to see it as taking time to place ourselves in contact with the gift of wisdom present in the thought of others. The Holy Spirit speaks in a unique way in the inspired Scriptures, but we believe has not abandoned us after that! Christ desired that the Gospel would continue to be present to us throughout time, and if this were dependent upon the teaching of the human members of the Church alone we would be in serious trouble! The Holy Spirit is the breath of the Body of Christ (the Church) and continues to provide life to the Church’s voice. When we turn to the writings of the Church and the saints we have the chance to encounter the Holy Spirit at work. Spiritual study provides fuel to the mind and heart so that the fire of our love can continue to burn. I have certainly found this true in my own life – it sparks reflection, deepened prayer, and new inspiration for action.

We have more opportunities than ever to encounter the living tradition of knowledge. This type of “spiritual reading” can take the form of reading a book, listening to a podcast, or watching a video series. A great parish resource we use is formed.org, filled with a large range of different media options. How can we in our own lives make time for this type of study, and through it give the Holy Spirit room to speak?

Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell

[Week 7 of the Imagination in Action reflection series. Theme this week: True Faith]

Is magic real? If so, what is its truest expression? These questions stand at the heart of Susanna Clarke’s 2004 novel “Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell.” The story is set in the 1800’s in an alternate history of England in which magic once existed. It follows various scholars of magic as they seek to reawaken the practice. I found this book fascinating, and in large measure because of the reflection that it offers on living faith. (Note: there is also a miniseries adaptation available on Netflix. It is not bad, but varies in a number of ways from the book and loses some of my favorite parts).

The first two paragraphs of the book provide a good context for how we can make a parallel with faith:

Some years ago there was in the city of York a society of magicians. They met upon the third Wednesday of every month and read each other long, dull papers upon the history of English magic.

They were gentleman-magicians, which is to say they had never harmed any one by magic – nor ever done any one the slightest good. In fact, to own the truth, not one of these magicians had ever cast the smallest spell, nor by magic caused on leaf to tremble upon a tree, made on emote of dust to alter its course or changed a single hair upon any one’s head. But, with this one minor reservation, they enjoyed a reputation as some of the wisest and most magical gentlemen in Yorkshire.

After this, the chapter describes how one of the meetings was disrupted by the question of why they never practiced magic, and the many excuses offered by the members of the society. They saw practicing what they studied as undignified and beneath their social station. Here we can see a parallel with the strength that faith once possessed in England, and the way that many of the “gentleman-theologians” of the 1800s had continued to study faith, but merely as something historically interesting, and not a living part of their life. Modifying the questions I mentioned at the beginning of this post, we can first ask “Is faith real?” Then, “What does its true expression look like in our lives?”

Is faith real?

I think many people discount faith because they think of it in terms of “blind faith.” I dislike this phrase because I do not think it is accurate to Christian belief. “Blind faith” implies believing something without evidence, and can easily lead into unhealthy or destructive expressions of belief. Although it is true that faith ultimately requires a step of belief, we do not make this step “blind” but can look at motives of credibility (reasons to believe). We might look at the predictions of Christ in the Old Testament (existing long before Jesus walked the earth) or accounts of His miracles. But, I think the most compelling is to look at the Resurrection and the transformation of the Apostles.

If Jesus did not rise from the dead, then why does Christianity exist? Some religions were the development of folk myths that did not face any particular challenge from the surrounding culture (eg the belief in the Greek gods). We can look at other religions that were accompanied by gains in wealth, military power, or public prestige in their early years. While it is true that after the time of Emperor Constantine Christianity became publicly accepted and there was the temptation to profess faith simply for its worldly benefits, this was almost 300 years after the time of Christ and cannot explain the origins of Christianity. The early followers of Christ had to embrace serious public difficulties in accepting the faith.

We have many writings from the first century of Christianity (many overlapping with the life of the Apostles) that we can look at – St Polycarp of Smyrna, St Ignatius of Antioch, St Irenaeus of Lyons, St Justin Martyr, or the letter of the Roman Governor Pliny to Emperor Trajan (to give a few examples). So, it is not credible to say that the account of Christ’s life was manufactured hundreds of years after His lifetime when there was no means of knowing the truth.

Most of all, I think we have to look at the transformation of the Apostles. St John Chrysostom points out that we have to wonder why they were afraid to follow Jesus while He lived (running away at the time of the crucifixion), but were bold to profess Him after His death. Why suffer and die for something you knew was a lie? Likewise, the claim that they all had the exact same hallucination and all held firm to it to the end seems hard to believe. These could have been disproven in the early years by presenting the body of Jesus still in the tomb. I think the most credible explanation is that they did encounter the risen Christ, and this was the source of their transformation. Therefore, we are not asked to accept a “blind faith,” but one that rests on solid witness.

What does faith’s true expression look like in our lives?

This leads us to our next question in regards to true faith: its lived experience. Returning to “Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell,” we see that even if some of the magicians believed that magic actually had existed, it had no impact in their life. They felt more pressure to follow the social conventions of their time than what they studied. This is likewise a great challenge to us today. The obstacle to faith in many people may not be historical questions about the Resurrection, but the poor witness that we as Christians sometimes give. St James writes in the Bible that, “faith without works is dead” (James 2:26). True faith is built upon confidence in the words of Christ, and it is expressed in allowing transformation in our life. Too often we hold back in fear from letting go of the worldly promises for happiness: power, popularity, possessions, or pleasure. We see the good fruit of faith in the lives of saints and holy people we know, but aren’t ready (or sure) how to follow them.

I don’t write this to discourage anyone in their faith, but for encouragement to embrace the season of Easter. The transformation of the lives of the Apostles is not described as happening in a single day. Instead, Jesus spends forty days with them until the Ascension, strengthening them in their new-found faith. He then instructs them to spend nine days in prayer before receiving the gift of the Holy Spirit on Pentecost (the fiftieth day). It is at this point that we see them sent forth to begin preaching.

So, if our assessment of our life of faith right now leaves us feeling down, let us remember that Easter is not a single day. It is a season that stretches across those same fifty days that the Apostles experienced. It is a time to ask the Lord to give us strength and confidence, as well as a deeper outpouring of the Holy Spirit. This is difficult to do alone, and so I am going to change the focus of my reflections leading up to Pentecost. During Lent I looked mainly at our personal spiritual life. During Easter I will look at the mission of a parish and how connection with our parish helps to nourish this transformation of faith. God bless!

Advent 2020 Prayer Study – Week 4

Merry Christmas! I write this in the midst of our celebration of the Christmas Octave. The manger scene is a fitting scene to consider for our final step of the classic “lectio divina” method of praying with Scripture- contemplation. Here we refer not to the human act of prayer, but God’s response. It may be a felt inspiration/guidance or not. However, with faith and hope we take time to listen for God in our prayer. Our goal is not only an interior monologue of our meditation and prayers – we seek a dialogue in which we encounter God’s voice. Just as the figures around the manger gaze in receptive adoration of the birth of the Christ child, let us remember to leave time for contemplation in our prayer to allow space for God to act!

Weekly notes from Facebook-

Monday: Silence can scare us, and drive us to want to fill up the space with noise or busy-ness. However, silence gives a space where relationship can grow and a gift can be received. Our prayerful time with Scripture should include not only reading, reflecting, and expressing our reflections in prayer, but also silence and open receptivity to God.

Tuesday: St Teresa of Avila, one of the master teachers on prayer, describes the difference between human cooperation in prayer (what we have been discussing in the first three steps) and God’s response. Here are some of her words on this topic from Way of Perfection (ch. 31): “I still want to describe this prayer of quiet to you in the way that I have heard it explained and as the Lord has been pleased to teach it to me. . . . This is a supernatural state and however hard we try, we cannot acquire it by ourselves. . . . The faculties are stilled and have no wish to move, for any movement they make seems to hinder the soul from loving God. They are not completely lost, however, since two of them are free and they can realize in whose presence they are. It is the will that is captive now. . . . The intellect tries to occupy itself with only one thing, and the memory has no desire to busy itself with more. They both see that this is the one thing necessary; anything else will cause them to be disturbed.”

Wednesday: Often we are tempted to rate our prayer as “good or bad” based on whether we feel a certain way at the end. While at times we do experience a sense of inspiration, this isn’t the only time that God is active. The response we “feel” can depend on many factors (what is going on in our life at the time, emotional state, etc). If we have spent the time seeking conversation with God (despite distractions), we can be confident that God is at work in our life to guide us by His grace!

Thursday: Yesterday I spoke of not trying to force a particular response in prayer and not to evaluate prayer just on our emotional response, but that doesn’t mean we should have low expectations! As we wait in joyful anticipation of the celebration of the birth of Christ tomorrow, it is good to remember that we should approach prayer with an expectant faith, confident God will be present and active in whatever situation we may be!

Friday: (no post on this topic, as it was Christmas day!)

“The Search” Parish Study

This week we are beginning an online study called “The Search!” I thought I’d give a little explanation of it here to help build connections.

It is produced by the Augustine Institute, and available through their formed.org streaming service. This is a great, user-friendly way to connect with a lot of high-quality materials for growing in faith (it uses the same interface as Netflix, which probably helps for many!). It can be used through your web browser or through an excellent app. St Malachy/St Elizabeth parishioners can get a free log-in by noting that they belong to the parish on the log-in screen, otherwise you may need to check with your local parish to see about availability.

Out of all of the series on the website, why did I choose to start with “The Search?” I think it provides an excellent step-by-step reflection on our search for God, and therefore is a great resource for anyone, no matter where they are on the spectrum of faith. As we go through the seven videos in the series, we are asked to begin our reflection on the desires of the human heart and our identity. The topics then move through the encounter with God, our encounter with Jesus Christ, and our encounter with the Catholic Church. Along the way we are able to reflect on the reasons for our belief as well as make/deepen a personal connection.

Each Sunday I will share a link to the next excerpt on my social media (see the links on the sidebar of the main page of this website), and each Thursday I will host a discussion on Facebook live at 5:30pm (6pm en español). All are welcome! If you’re not able to join this live, the recap will be available to view on Facebook/YouTube.

Here is a short excerpt (four minutes) from the first video, which should be accessible to all: http://watch.formed.org/videos/the-search-excerpt-what-do-you-seek (the full twenty minute version is available on formed.org).

También hay una versión en español: http://watch.formed.org/videos/thesearch-ep1-formed-esp-1

I hope you can take part in this reflection, God bless!

Easter Homily 2019 (summary!)

Alleluia, He is Risen!

Today I think of an experience that we probably all have had as a child – what I call the “reassuring glance.” I can remember times as a kid of being nervous about an at bat in baseball, or jumping off the high dive in the pool, or having to speak in public, and then looking over and seeing my mom, dad, a coach, or a friend. In seeing them present, I was given courage to face the situation before me. When we see a child in one of these nervous situations make a reassuring glance like that, we can see their whole mood and expression change. They become more confident. Their fear is overcome and they can deal with the challenge.

For us as Christians, our ultimate source of assurance can be found in the Resurrected Christ. He has conquered death! Death no longer has power over Him, as St Paul says. As Christ drew all of our sufferings and failures to Himself in His death, He now includes all of our victories in His resurrection. This is what transformed the Apostles. As a saint said, if they were afraid to follow Him publicly while He was alive, what makes them rise up courageous and unconquerable after His death? It is their encounter with Jesus in His resurrection. For this reason St Paul can say that he can do all things through Christ who strengthens him.

However, this change didn’t reach its fulfillment in one day. Jesus spent forty days after His resurrection with them before His ascension, strengthening them and letting this reassurance deepen. They spent the next ten days in prayer waiting for the Holy Spirit, and on the fiftieth day – Pentecost – they were ready. No matter how many Easters we have celebrated, we are invited in these next fifty days to return to this meditation on victory! When we face challenges – whether the every-day sort or the types that shake us to the core – let us repeat those words, “Jesus, you are risen. You are victorious. You are with me. I can face this situation in the light of your victory over death.” May we arrive at the end of this Easter season more deeply connected with our Risen Lord. Amen, alleluia!

John Henry Cardinal Newman

I first heard of Cardinal Newman as the namesake of the “Newman Center” that I attended at the University of Illinois (the Catholic student center). It was with great joy that I heard he had been approved for canonization as a saint! In this post I thought I’d give a few reasons as to how he has been a positive influence in my life.

Cardinal Newman was a significant theologian of the 19th century (lived 1801-1890). He was a member of the Oxford Movement within Anglicanism and developed a deep interest in the writings of early Christians. Much of his research can be found in his work, “An Essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine” (although the word ‘essay’ may be deceiving… my paperback copy is 480 pages!). This study is particularly interesting because he began the research before entering the Catholic Church, and finished it as Catholic. It documents his discovery of the historical roots and unity of the early Church with the Catholic Church today. His writing is full of profound insight into the reasons for belief—which was not an abstract study for him, but a burning personal question. Newman’s writing can be dense at times, but very rewarding!

Second, I find his spirituality compelling and timely. He took as his motto “Cor ad cor loquitur” (heart speaks to heart). As important as study was to him, Newman recognized that what is most powerful is when the Gospel is embodied in a personal witness. In it we can consider the Heart of God speaking to our heart, as well as seeking to let our heart speak to others. My favorite explanation of this phrase comes from a book by Louis Bouyer about St Philip Neri (side note— When Newman entered the Catholic Church he decided to start a community of the Congregation of the Oratory, the religious order founded by Neri. At some point I will write a post on Neri! He is my favorite non-biblical saint). Bouyer writes, “Cardinal Newman’s motto, ‘Cor ad cor loquitur,’ sums up the Philippian ideal; neither speeches nor arguments can awaken a living faith in those whom Christianity has lost its meaning. Only contact with people whose daily lives are dominated by an intense and personal experience of the truths of the Faith can achieve such a result, and it is precisely this result which Philip achieved through his dual life of intimate communion with God and men.” There is a personal touch to his approach to preaching and teaching, and a good reminder that the Faith isn’t just to be studied, but to be lived.

Finally, his legacy keeps popping up in my life. Newman was the rector of a Catholic university and wrote a book called “The Idea of a University,” and his interest in this topic helped him to become the patron of the line of Catholic student centers that I encountered on campus in Champaign-Urbana. This center helped me to make the transition from my high school faith into a more adult faith, and to discern my vocation as a priest (another side note—when I entered seminary, the directors of our diocesan retreat center would begin the retreats with his prayer “Some Definite Service,” it’s worth looking up!). Also, his community and school at the Birmingham Oratory was closely connected with two of my favorite British writers: Hilaire Belloc and JRR Tolkien. Belloc graduated from there as a student himself. Tolkien’s mother appointed a priest of the community as the guardian for him when she was near death, which helped guide him to develop his faith and studies to become the author and professor that he was. Tolkien then sent his children to the school. So, Newman’s influence is all over!

I never can capture everything about a person in a summary like this, but hopefully that gives a little crash course on Newman. God bless!

Faith and the War Within

St James writes, “Where do the wars and where do the conflicts among you come from? Is it not from your passions that make war within your members?” (James 4:1). He describes something that we all experience – the fact that within ourselves we feel a battle between many different desires and emotions. This can make us feel like we are being pulled apart, and St James lists conquering this as one of the pre-requisites for true peace (both personally and in the world as a whole!). We each have to address this in some way. Should we work against any of these desires, and if so, how? I thought today I’d give some reflections on these questions from a Catholic perspective.

We see our creation as both body and soul as leading to these different sets of desires. We perceive things with our senses, and we are drawn toward the pleasurable and away from the painful. With our minds we also are drawn toward what we perceive to be true, and toward doing what we believe is good (although people use many different standards to make these judgments).

In the beginning of creation, we believe the grace of integrity was given to unite all of these desires toward a unified and true goal, but one of the fruits of sin was to introduce disorder into our heart. From here we are often drawn to seek superficial goods that are in conflict with our true and long-term goals, and we see selfishness work its destruction across the world every day.

The Christian vocation, in contrast, is to be transformed into a living image of God. Rather than a rampaging horde of barbarians (which is what our passions may seem like some times), the mission of the Church is to be more like a horde of images of Christ – people who will live with the love and wisdom of Christ, His patience, and His strength. In the “cloud of witnesses” of the saints we can see ways in which this has been successful, although we also know the great need to re-commit to this mission today.

Our first step in winning the war within as Catholics, then, is to make an act of faith in the power of God. Our biggest obstacle is our self-reliance, which hesitates to rely on the grace of God, and is reluctant to reach out for the help that we need. We want to be perfect in a day without involving others, and are discouraged when this transformation does not take place according to our time-table. It is a grace-fueled cooperation of our will with God’s, not just a passive process that happens automatically. But, moving beyond self-reliance, we are called to face this battle with trust in personal prayer, the Sacraments (especially the Eucharist and Confession), friendship, and perhaps other aids (e.g. counseling, small groups, etc).

This is a path of freedom and healing. It brings us back towards that unity of the initial creation – and what will be restored in the life to come. Many may struggle with the decision to enter into this battle from the point of faith, and instead choose a path that relies on human power and wisdom alone (doubting a chance for anything else). But, the faith that we are invited to is not a “blind” faith with no evidence. I am encouraged on by seeing how this has happened in others, how it is happening now, and how it has happened in my own life. I believe that Christ is alive and that I have encountered Him. May He work in my life and yours, and may we in confidence follow where He leads!

The Fellowship

The first part of JRR Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings largely focuses on the gathering together of the “Fellowship of the Ring.” (mild spoilers for this paragraph, if for some reason you are not already familiar with this story!). This is a group of heroes gathered from all the races of Middle Earth (ie humans, hobbits, elves, and dwarves – along with the wizard Gandalf) that unites for the purpose of destroying the dominion that the One Ring holds on the world. I think in that way the Fellowship is an image of the universal Church. The original Greek word for church – ekklesia – in fact means an assembly that has been called together. They set out against their opposition, and even come to a point at which the Fellowship seems to break – although in truth they stay united to their purpose despite no longer being in each other’s company.

The sixth chapter of John’s Gospel describes a breaking among the disciples of Jesus: “many [of] his disciples returned to their former way of life and no longer accompanied him” (Jn 6: 66). The dispute here centered on His words, “unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you” (Jn 6: 53). At the end of the chapter, Jesus also speaks of the upcoming betrayal of Judas Iscariot (verses 70-71).

I think these passages give an important warning at the end of the Bread of Life discourse. Jesus is preparing this community/fellowship, and desires it to be a place of transformative encounter with Him (in a particular way in the celebration of the sacrament of His body and blood). However, our response to His invitation maintains its freedom. There is no substitute for a conversion of self, and no external proclamation that is sufficient without an interior correspondence.

At the time of this writing there is unfortunately the scandal of priests and bishops that  have used their positions to abuse (or cover up abuse) of those in their care. They took the external signs of consecration, but without a true internal correspondence. Instead of loving the Church as Christ loves her, they chose to care more about worldly prestige or personal gain. This is deeply saddening and I am so sorry for those affected. I pray for healing for those harmed directly or indirectly by the scandal, and for a true purification of the Church. I pray that I may be a faithful minister of Christ, and always do my part to protect those in the part of the vineyard entrusted to me. I am aware of my weaknesses, and ask for your prayers to fully respond to God’s call.

What inspires me at this time, though, is to meditate on that original plan of Christ for this Fellowship of the Church, and to be a part of its renewal. As ugly as scandal is, I am thankful that what has been brought to light is not continuing its growth in the darkness, where corruption breeds most quickly. May the light of Christ shine and drive out the darkness. I am reminded of the joy of living a life rooted in the presence of Christ, and renewed in my desire to fight against everything that seeks dominion in my life in opposition to it.