Pope Benedict XVI has injured his second most valuable physical asset!
The Holy Father broke his right wrist in a fall while on vacation.
I told him not to go hot-doggin' it down those Alpine slopes! Does he listen? Nooooooo. . .
Pray for his quick recovery.
17 July 2009
Tin-foil moment
Oh NO!
The GOP flowchart demonstrating the morass of convoluted bureaucracy that Obamacare will impose on the American people looks like a map of how my brain works after 2.00pm everyday.
I think the Republicans must have secretly implanted a chip in my head to monitor my neurons.
Now where did I put that tin-foil. . .?
Now where did I put that tin-foil. . .?
First Things survey campus religious life
Perhaps THE best journal of religion and the public life, First Things, is conducting a survey of religious beliefs and practices on college campuses.
No doubt this information will be helpful to campus ministers.
If you are a student (or a recent graduate), please take a moment to answer their survey.
You can find it here.
The logic of mercy (repost)
[I am VERY tired this morning. . .please, forgive this repost from 2007]
15th Week OT(F): Exodus 11.10-12.14 and Matthew 12.1-8
Fr. Philip N. Powell, OP
15th Week OT(F): Exodus 11.10-12.14 and Matthew 12.1-8
Fr. Philip N. Powell, OP
Ah ha! Jesus is admonishing the Pharisees for following the rules; he’s berating them for being concerned about the Law, about procedure and process; therefore, we, as followers of the Way of Christ, are under no obligation to follow the Law or any law, and all of those puritanical restrictions against our favorite, former sins are now abrogated! We are free indeed! God desires mercy from us, not our empty, choreographed sacrifices inside an over decorated, incense-choked building! Thanks be to God we are free. . .!
As I said, in a breath and two heartbeats utter nonsense starts to sound like wholesome logic. This is our temptation here: to take what is a profoundly subtle ethical teaching from Christ, ignore the subtleties in favor of what we want to hear, and make Christ’s teaching into an excuse for sin. The Devil’s means for the Devil’s ends indeed. Where do we go wrong with this teaching? We go wrong with this teaching when we place mercy and sacrifice against one another, in conflict with one another, and we come out believing that we are to do one and not the other. The truth that Jesus is trying to push into the legalistic brains of the Pharisees is that showing mercy to a sinner is a sacrifice; to be merciful is sacrificial.
The logic of mercy requires you to forgive an offense against you w/o asking for what you are justly owed in compensation for the offense. You “sacrifice” what is rightfully yours in exchange for nothing, for nothing at all. In effect, there never was any offense. We can say that this or that bad act was committed—Jesus doesn’t deny that his disciples are picking grain on the Sabbath—but once sacrificial mercy is shown to the actors, we cannot say that any offense was given by the act. Jesus calls David and the priests and his disciples “innocent men.” No offense, no sin.
Divine mercy then is that kind of love that sees clearly into the heart of the sinner and rightly discerns what drives him to offend. However, only God has such clarity, the clarity to know perfectly a heart’s intent; you and I are called to a far more difficult task: to show mercy as a sacrificial habit; as a virtue faithfully, daily practiced without the benefit of a divine mind to see inside another person’s motive!
So, does God want mercy from us rather than sacrifice? Yes, if by “sacrifice” we mean “merely following the Law jot and tittle.” Does God want mercy from us rather than sacrifice? No, if by “sacrifice” we mean “offering to God what we are owed in order to make it holy.” God wants us to be merciful as a sacrifice. Why is this difficult for us? My guess: being offended makes us the creditor, we are owed. And being owed a debt gives us power. This is the Devil’s means to another one of his favorite ends: you in Hell with all the foolish. Poke him in the eye by giving up what is owed you—sacrifice in mercy and live among the wise.
16 July 2009
I'm feeling a little light-headed. . .
FREAK OUT ALERT!!!
My thesis director wants the first chapters of the thesis by July 30th. . .and the next two by August 20th. . .
. . .(faints). . .
My thesis director wants the first chapters of the thesis by July 30th. . .and the next two by August 20th. . .
. . .(faints). . .
Solidarity: Caritas in veritate
A former student of mine, Sean DeWitt (seminarian for the Diocese of Austin) is writing a series of posts on Caritas in veritate.
Check them out!
Check them out!
The easy yoke of "Ipsum Esse Subsistens"
15th Week OT (Thur): Ex 3.13-20; Matt 11.28-30
Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP
Sisters of St Mary of Namur
God reveals Himself to Moses on Mr Horeb as “ipsum esse subsistens.” What God Is and That God Is are identical. God exists essentially. He is existentially essential. As Being Himself there is no difference between God's essence and His existence. No difference, no distinction. Using the first person imperfect of the Hebrew verb “to be,” God unveils the mystery of His abiding presence to Moses as Having Been-Is now-Will Always Be: I AM Who Is. At this revelation we are stunned into reverent silence. It is unlikely that any limited creature will truly grasp the full measure of this unveiled mystery. So, we must ask: who among us, when pressed with disaster, cries out: “Being Itself! Help me!”? Who among us, when possessed by joy, sings: “Ipsum Esse Subsistens, I give you thanks!”? None of us gets out of bed on Sunday morning to offer praise and thanksgiving to Essential Existence. No Christian soul searches for love in I AM. Our faith and hope excel in a God Who has always, is now, and will always be our Father, our brother, and our very life here on earth and in heaven to come.
Along with preaching his Good News, Jesus spends a great deal of time warning anyone who will listen that the Way back to the Father is an adventure worthy of heroes. There will be great deeds performed by those of us who follow him: moments of triumph over evil; terrible injustices rectified; diseases and infirmities cured; demonic spirits expelled. We will also suffer harrowing tests: religious and political persecution; exile and torture; and even death for the sake of his name. To join this epic of salvation all we must do is abandon family and friends; shrug off wealth and prestige; go out into the desert of selfless service; and follow behind him, bearing our crosses to a sacrificial end. He promises us suffering, and our deaths are guaranteed. How strange is it then that we hear Jesus say this morning, “...my yoke is easy, and my burden light”? What's so easy and light about torture and death?! Wealth and security sound much easier and a whole lot lighter! For that matter, I am not particularly soothed by the prospect of being water-boarded defending the honor of Essential Existence.
Fair enough, pain and suffering do not seem to be much of an incentive to risk life and limb in the defense of Esse Subsistens. But do wealth, prestige, and the boredom of security offer us the adventure of preaching the Good News of God's mercy, of bringing the lost back into the family, of living lives steeped in the luxury of knowing that we serve a God of loving-care? Can anyone we attach ourselves to in this world offer us a life beyond temporary affection? Can anything we own guarantee happiness beyond its limited warranty? Even the praise of our fellow citizens fades and the awards we win get dusty and dry. Nothing created—no existing thing—can ever bring us to the excellence that God has created us to be. With Him—Perfect Being—we are made fully human, impeccably whole. Will you suffer and die for the sake of sharing in this promised glory?
God unveils the mystery of His Being to Moses. To Moses God is revealed as I AM WHO IS and WHO WILL ALWAYS BE. But He says to Moses as well, “I have watched over you with care; I am concerned about you and My people. Go tell them that I have sent you to deliver them from the misery of slavery for My sake.” To Moses Ipsum Esse Subsistens promises deliverance and He does exactly that. To us, He not only promises deliverance from slavery, He promises an eternal life with Him in Christ. The Father promises; the Son delivers; and the Love they share comes with us on the Way, lifting the burden of our labors by showing us how to love one another as God Himself loves. Even the sweatiest work is made easy when it is done for love.
Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP
Sisters of St Mary of Namur
God reveals Himself to Moses on Mr Horeb as “ipsum esse subsistens.” What God Is and That God Is are identical. God exists essentially. He is existentially essential. As Being Himself there is no difference between God's essence and His existence. No difference, no distinction. Using the first person imperfect of the Hebrew verb “to be,” God unveils the mystery of His abiding presence to Moses as Having Been-Is now-Will Always Be: I AM Who Is. At this revelation we are stunned into reverent silence. It is unlikely that any limited creature will truly grasp the full measure of this unveiled mystery. So, we must ask: who among us, when pressed with disaster, cries out: “Being Itself! Help me!”? Who among us, when possessed by joy, sings: “Ipsum Esse Subsistens, I give you thanks!”? None of us gets out of bed on Sunday morning to offer praise and thanksgiving to Essential Existence. No Christian soul searches for love in I AM. Our faith and hope excel in a God Who has always, is now, and will always be our Father, our brother, and our very life here on earth and in heaven to come.
Along with preaching his Good News, Jesus spends a great deal of time warning anyone who will listen that the Way back to the Father is an adventure worthy of heroes. There will be great deeds performed by those of us who follow him: moments of triumph over evil; terrible injustices rectified; diseases and infirmities cured; demonic spirits expelled. We will also suffer harrowing tests: religious and political persecution; exile and torture; and even death for the sake of his name. To join this epic of salvation all we must do is abandon family and friends; shrug off wealth and prestige; go out into the desert of selfless service; and follow behind him, bearing our crosses to a sacrificial end. He promises us suffering, and our deaths are guaranteed. How strange is it then that we hear Jesus say this morning, “...my yoke is easy, and my burden light”? What's so easy and light about torture and death?! Wealth and security sound much easier and a whole lot lighter! For that matter, I am not particularly soothed by the prospect of being water-boarded defending the honor of Essential Existence.
Fair enough, pain and suffering do not seem to be much of an incentive to risk life and limb in the defense of Esse Subsistens. But do wealth, prestige, and the boredom of security offer us the adventure of preaching the Good News of God's mercy, of bringing the lost back into the family, of living lives steeped in the luxury of knowing that we serve a God of loving-care? Can anyone we attach ourselves to in this world offer us a life beyond temporary affection? Can anything we own guarantee happiness beyond its limited warranty? Even the praise of our fellow citizens fades and the awards we win get dusty and dry. Nothing created—no existing thing—can ever bring us to the excellence that God has created us to be. With Him—Perfect Being—we are made fully human, impeccably whole. Will you suffer and die for the sake of sharing in this promised glory?
God unveils the mystery of His Being to Moses. To Moses God is revealed as I AM WHO IS and WHO WILL ALWAYS BE. But He says to Moses as well, “I have watched over you with care; I am concerned about you and My people. Go tell them that I have sent you to deliver them from the misery of slavery for My sake.” To Moses Ipsum Esse Subsistens promises deliverance and He does exactly that. To us, He not only promises deliverance from slavery, He promises an eternal life with Him in Christ. The Father promises; the Son delivers; and the Love they share comes with us on the Way, lifting the burden of our labors by showing us how to love one another as God Himself loves. Even the sweatiest work is made easy when it is done for love.
15 July 2009
Here we are?
St. Bonaventure: Ex 3.1-6, 9-12; Matt 11.25-27
Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP
Sisters of St Mary of Namur
Moses the shepherd sees a bush burning in the desert. Strange enough. Even stranger still: though the bush is burning, it is not reduced to ash. Both surprised and curious, Moses wants to know why the bush is not consumed by the flame. As he approaches this “remarkable sight,” a voice calls out, “Moses, Moses.” Hearing his name spoken in fire, Moses stops, screams like a scalded camel, and runs home in terror! When he recalls his encounter with the flaming shrub, no one in his family believes him. After years of therapy, Moses concludes that the whole incident resulted from dehydration, low blood-sugar, and a deeply embedded sub-conscious fear of vegetation. He resumes his work as a shepherd and avoids contact with anything that might be called bramble, hedge, or scrub. He dies a very old man secure in his well-managed anxiety around wilderness foliage. How do you react to God's voice flaming out at you? Do you scream and run in terror? Or do you follow the real Moses' example and answer, “Here I am”?
Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger recalls the arduous process of writing his second dissertation, a tightly written work on St Bonaventure's theology of history. He writes that one of his readers had rejected his thesis because of its modern research methods and radical theological conclusions regarding the subjective nature of divine revelation. What was so radical about the future Pope Benedict XVI's views on revelation? Arguing that Bonaventure had no concept of revelation corresponding to the notion found in traditional Catholic theology, Ratzinger concluded that revelation is not best understood as the contents of faith but rather as “the act in which God shows himself...” Is this an esoteric distinction that only a German theologian could love? Hardly. From this distinction, Ratzinger concludes that God's Self-revelation must be witnessed by someone in order to be a revelation at all. He writes, “Where there is no one to perceive 'revelation,' no re-vel-ation has occurred, because no veil has been removed.” For our future Pope, the perceiving subject of revelation is the Church and the Church's understanding of God's revelation is contained in tradition. Because of this “dangerous modernism,” Joseph the student was sent back to his desk to try again. Despite this setback, he won his doctorate. And he won the argument.*
Moses, the terrified shepherd, chose to flee God's revelation and rationalize his encounter with the fiery voice of the shrub as a product of physical depletion and psychological trauma. Perhaps we can forgive this fantasy version of Moses b/c we might be tempted to follow his fainthearted example! Fortunately, the real Moses, upon hearing his name called from the fire, approached the bush and said instead, “Here I am.” Moses surrenders his courageous heart to this world's most dangerous message: the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob lives and He has a job that needs to be done. Because he bravely stepped forward and answered to his name, Moses is sent to free God's people from slavery in Egypt. And like any of us given a similar task, Moses says, “What?! Me!? Who I am to do this work?!” Who indeed?
As the Church, the Body of Christ on earth, we are each called by name and sent out to do the work of freeing God's people from slavery. This might be the literal slavery of child-trafficking or forced prostitution. This might be the slavery of poverty or political and religious oppression. This might be the slavery of individual disobedience and personal vice. Whatever face slavery wears, the chains that bind are held fast by sin and the fear of death. Liberation for slaves begins when they are told that the Pharaoh of Sin is powerless, his armies defeated, and the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob has commanded him to “let My people go.” Liberation for the slaves arrives when they receive this revelation and begin to live lives freed from Pharaoh's rule. Where the dignity of the human person is violated by sin, the message of freedom in Christ must be announced. And when this revelation is received, it must be lived. Not only by the one who hears it but by the one who speaks it as well.
Who am I to do this work? Who are you? If we say to the burning bush—wherever it may appear—“Here I am,” we become ones sent to announce freedom from sin in Christ. First called, we call. First freed, we free. We become exactly who God calls us to be: Christ dying on his cross for the salvation of the world.
*Milestones: Memoirs 1927-1977, pg 108.
Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP
Sisters of St Mary of Namur
Moses the shepherd sees a bush burning in the desert. Strange enough. Even stranger still: though the bush is burning, it is not reduced to ash. Both surprised and curious, Moses wants to know why the bush is not consumed by the flame. As he approaches this “remarkable sight,” a voice calls out, “Moses, Moses.” Hearing his name spoken in fire, Moses stops, screams like a scalded camel, and runs home in terror! When he recalls his encounter with the flaming shrub, no one in his family believes him. After years of therapy, Moses concludes that the whole incident resulted from dehydration, low blood-sugar, and a deeply embedded sub-conscious fear of vegetation. He resumes his work as a shepherd and avoids contact with anything that might be called bramble, hedge, or scrub. He dies a very old man secure in his well-managed anxiety around wilderness foliage. How do you react to God's voice flaming out at you? Do you scream and run in terror? Or do you follow the real Moses' example and answer, “Here I am”?
Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger recalls the arduous process of writing his second dissertation, a tightly written work on St Bonaventure's theology of history. He writes that one of his readers had rejected his thesis because of its modern research methods and radical theological conclusions regarding the subjective nature of divine revelation. What was so radical about the future Pope Benedict XVI's views on revelation? Arguing that Bonaventure had no concept of revelation corresponding to the notion found in traditional Catholic theology, Ratzinger concluded that revelation is not best understood as the contents of faith but rather as “the act in which God shows himself...” Is this an esoteric distinction that only a German theologian could love? Hardly. From this distinction, Ratzinger concludes that God's Self-revelation must be witnessed by someone in order to be a revelation at all. He writes, “Where there is no one to perceive 'revelation,' no re-vel-ation has occurred, because no veil has been removed.” For our future Pope, the perceiving subject of revelation is the Church and the Church's understanding of God's revelation is contained in tradition. Because of this “dangerous modernism,” Joseph the student was sent back to his desk to try again. Despite this setback, he won his doctorate. And he won the argument.*
Moses, the terrified shepherd, chose to flee God's revelation and rationalize his encounter with the fiery voice of the shrub as a product of physical depletion and psychological trauma. Perhaps we can forgive this fantasy version of Moses b/c we might be tempted to follow his fainthearted example! Fortunately, the real Moses, upon hearing his name called from the fire, approached the bush and said instead, “Here I am.” Moses surrenders his courageous heart to this world's most dangerous message: the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob lives and He has a job that needs to be done. Because he bravely stepped forward and answered to his name, Moses is sent to free God's people from slavery in Egypt. And like any of us given a similar task, Moses says, “What?! Me!? Who I am to do this work?!” Who indeed?
As the Church, the Body of Christ on earth, we are each called by name and sent out to do the work of freeing God's people from slavery. This might be the literal slavery of child-trafficking or forced prostitution. This might be the slavery of poverty or political and religious oppression. This might be the slavery of individual disobedience and personal vice. Whatever face slavery wears, the chains that bind are held fast by sin and the fear of death. Liberation for slaves begins when they are told that the Pharaoh of Sin is powerless, his armies defeated, and the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob has commanded him to “let My people go.” Liberation for the slaves arrives when they receive this revelation and begin to live lives freed from Pharaoh's rule. Where the dignity of the human person is violated by sin, the message of freedom in Christ must be announced. And when this revelation is received, it must be lived. Not only by the one who hears it but by the one who speaks it as well.
Who am I to do this work? Who are you? If we say to the burning bush—wherever it may appear—“Here I am,” we become ones sent to announce freedom from sin in Christ. First called, we call. First freed, we free. We become exactly who God calls us to be: Christ dying on his cross for the salvation of the world.
*Milestones: Memoirs 1927-1977, pg 108.
14 July 2009
The second extinction of the dinosaurs
Here's some excellent news. . .
From a fund-raising letter from the dissident dinosaurs of VOTF:
From a fund-raising letter from the dissident dinosaurs of VOTF:
"With great heaviness of heart, we write to inform you that VOTF is at the crossroads of financial survival. . .Unfortunately, our financial condition has deteriorated before the rollout the Strategic Plan. As of early July, VOTF's reserves have all but been depleted, and it faces the prospects of not being able to pay for recurring costs during July and beyond..."
Couldn't happen to a better group. . .except for maybe Call to Action or Womanpriest.
Couldn't happen to a better group. . .except for maybe Call to Action or Womanpriest.
A rose kept alive in history
Blessed Kateri Tekakwitha: Ex 2.1-15; Matt 11.20-24
Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP
Sisters of St Mary of Namur
Are there any better symbols of sin and its consequences than the prison and the cemetery? Disobedience and death. “The founders of a new colony, whatever the Utopia of human virtue and happiness they might originally project, have invariably recognized it among their earliest necessities to allot a portion of the virgin soil as a cemetery, and another portion as the site of a prison.” In these first few lines from his novel, The Scarlet Letter, Nathaniel Hawthorne brings his readers to witness a dreary gathering, a scene heavy with sin, punishment, and individual failure. Before the prison-door stand “a throng of bearded men, in sad-colored garments and gray, steeple-crowned hats. . .” This crowd of utopian worthies has “assembled in front of a wooden edifice, the door of which was heavily timbered with oak, and studded with iron spikes.” With the grim certainty of those who believe themselves innocent of sin, the earliest Bostonians wait outside their “ugly edifice” for the village's latest sinner to emerge, to show herself as one chastened by “the black flower of civilized society, a prison.” Hearing Jesus speak so disparagingly of the citizens of Chorazin, Bethsaida and Capernuam, we might wonder if Hawthorne is right: despite our deepest desires for holiness, our most strenuous work to do the good, and the constant offer of redemption from the Father through His Son, we are doomed to reject the Holy Spirit's ministry among us and fill our prisons to breaking only to end by stocking our cemeteries for eternity. Is our story, as Hawthorne describes the life of Hester Prynne, “a tale of human frailty and sorrow”?
It would grossly irresponsible of us to see only the good in our hearts, ignoring the siren call of sin so that we might pretend innocence like those waiting outside Hester's prison-cell. We would be equally irresponsible if we were to make our lives into a daily, weekly vigil against every impulse, every natural instinct that comes with being that sort of creature who knows the difference between good and evil. We give energetic life to the same pride that brought down our first parents when we dwell obsessively on our failures in a futile quest for a purity that lies beyond our unaided reach. We can be pure. But not by ourselves. Though our prisons and cemeteries mark the consequences of human sin, Christ is the rose-bush flowering outside our cell-door, along side our tombstones. He is for us “some sweet moral blossom...that relieve[s] the darkening close of [our] tale...” But he is more than that: with us he is our holiest spirit; for us he is the only light in the darkness of our sin.
Jesus rails against the obstinate hearts of Chorazin, Bethsaida, and Capernaum, condemning their blindness to his mighty deeds and offer of salvation. We know that he is rejected as a heretic and demon by the temple, as a rebel by the empire, and possibly as a madman by most of those who hear him. The audacity of his message is too much to hear: the Father and I are one; He has sent me to you as your lamb of sacrifice; believe in me and you will be saved from sin and death. Too easy, too neat, too much for a disobedient heart grown muscular on the hard labor of chasing after salvation. There must be more to it than simple trust in God and love of neighbor!
How like the Psalmist we can be when we find ourselves doubting God's mercy: “I am sunk in the abysmal swamp where there is no foothold; I have reached the watery depths; the flood overwhelms me.” We may have escaped the prison, but the cemetery is not far away. Or is it? “But I pray to you, O Lord, for the time of your favor, O God! In your great kindness answer me with your constant help.” And how does the Lord answer us in our mire? “Turn to me in your need, and you will live.” Even as we indulge the folly of believing ourselves innocent, even as we grow more and more foolish in our refusal to turn our hearts to the mighty deeds of God, He says to us, “See, you lowly ones, and be glad; you who seek God, may your hearts revive! For the Lord hears the poor, and his own who are in bonds he spurns not.” This promise is Christ among us. No prison door remains locked. No tombstone stands against our eternal lives.
Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP
Sisters of St Mary of Namur
Are there any better symbols of sin and its consequences than the prison and the cemetery? Disobedience and death. “The founders of a new colony, whatever the Utopia of human virtue and happiness they might originally project, have invariably recognized it among their earliest necessities to allot a portion of the virgin soil as a cemetery, and another portion as the site of a prison.” In these first few lines from his novel, The Scarlet Letter, Nathaniel Hawthorne brings his readers to witness a dreary gathering, a scene heavy with sin, punishment, and individual failure. Before the prison-door stand “a throng of bearded men, in sad-colored garments and gray, steeple-crowned hats. . .” This crowd of utopian worthies has “assembled in front of a wooden edifice, the door of which was heavily timbered with oak, and studded with iron spikes.” With the grim certainty of those who believe themselves innocent of sin, the earliest Bostonians wait outside their “ugly edifice” for the village's latest sinner to emerge, to show herself as one chastened by “the black flower of civilized society, a prison.” Hearing Jesus speak so disparagingly of the citizens of Chorazin, Bethsaida and Capernuam, we might wonder if Hawthorne is right: despite our deepest desires for holiness, our most strenuous work to do the good, and the constant offer of redemption from the Father through His Son, we are doomed to reject the Holy Spirit's ministry among us and fill our prisons to breaking only to end by stocking our cemeteries for eternity. Is our story, as Hawthorne describes the life of Hester Prynne, “a tale of human frailty and sorrow”?
It would grossly irresponsible of us to see only the good in our hearts, ignoring the siren call of sin so that we might pretend innocence like those waiting outside Hester's prison-cell. We would be equally irresponsible if we were to make our lives into a daily, weekly vigil against every impulse, every natural instinct that comes with being that sort of creature who knows the difference between good and evil. We give energetic life to the same pride that brought down our first parents when we dwell obsessively on our failures in a futile quest for a purity that lies beyond our unaided reach. We can be pure. But not by ourselves. Though our prisons and cemeteries mark the consequences of human sin, Christ is the rose-bush flowering outside our cell-door, along side our tombstones. He is for us “some sweet moral blossom...that relieve[s] the darkening close of [our] tale...” But he is more than that: with us he is our holiest spirit; for us he is the only light in the darkness of our sin.
Jesus rails against the obstinate hearts of Chorazin, Bethsaida, and Capernaum, condemning their blindness to his mighty deeds and offer of salvation. We know that he is rejected as a heretic and demon by the temple, as a rebel by the empire, and possibly as a madman by most of those who hear him. The audacity of his message is too much to hear: the Father and I are one; He has sent me to you as your lamb of sacrifice; believe in me and you will be saved from sin and death. Too easy, too neat, too much for a disobedient heart grown muscular on the hard labor of chasing after salvation. There must be more to it than simple trust in God and love of neighbor!
How like the Psalmist we can be when we find ourselves doubting God's mercy: “I am sunk in the abysmal swamp where there is no foothold; I have reached the watery depths; the flood overwhelms me.” We may have escaped the prison, but the cemetery is not far away. Or is it? “But I pray to you, O Lord, for the time of your favor, O God! In your great kindness answer me with your constant help.” And how does the Lord answer us in our mire? “Turn to me in your need, and you will live.” Even as we indulge the folly of believing ourselves innocent, even as we grow more and more foolish in our refusal to turn our hearts to the mighty deeds of God, He says to us, “See, you lowly ones, and be glad; you who seek God, may your hearts revive! For the Lord hears the poor, and his own who are in bonds he spurns not.” This promise is Christ among us. No prison door remains locked. No tombstone stands against our eternal lives.
13 July 2009
Peace at the point of a sword
15th Week OT (Mon): Ex 1.8-14, 22; Matt 10.34-11.1
Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP
Sisters of St Mary of Namur
Peace is not the absence of acrimony and violence. To cease conflict, sheath our swords, and smile at one another is preferable to wholesale war, of course, but the mere lack of strife and bloodshed is not the peace that Jesus instructed his apostles to preach. The peace of Christ is found only when we discover, receive, and live out our divinely created purpose. If the Christ born of the Virgin is one person with two natures—one human, one divine—and we are the adopted children of the Father brought into His family through Christ, then we too are creatures gifted with a human nature and drawn to completion in Christ, seduced by heaven's love to love eternally in heaven. This peace—our reconciliation to God by partaking in His divine nature—cannot be achieved by selling the truth of the gospel to the philosophy or political system most likely to quell the primitive brutality of war. To our surprise, Jesus says to his disciples, “Do not think that I have come to bring peace upon the earth. I have come to bring not peace but the sword.” What does Christ's sword cut in two? And which of these two severed parts are we to receive so that peace may be ours?
Jesus ends his class on how to be a faithful apostle with the startling announcement that his purpose on this earth is not to bring about global political harmony. He did not come to end war in our time. Instead, he claims, his purpose is to bring the sword that will cleanly and decisively sever the bonds of all human relationships so that our created purpose might be discovered, received, and lived out—whatever it may cost the family, the nations, or the whole human race. No fewer than eight times in Matthew's gospel reading this morning, Jesus teaches his apostles that he must be received as the one sent to bring us all back to the Father. But in order for us to receive him as our Redeemer, we must discover him as the Way, the Truth, and the Life, the final and unique source of all our ties here on earth. Jesus sends out his students and friends so that the world might hear and believe all that he has taught and bear witness to all that he has done: “Whoever receives you receives me, and whoever receives me receives the one who sent me.” By receiving Christ as the one sent to take us back to God, we abandon mother, father, brother, sister, friends; we take up his cross as our own, and everyone and everything we love now becomes a hateful distraction, a rabbit hole that can only lead us to a wonderland of temporary peace.
Surely, you may object, Jesus is not telling us to abandon our families and friends in order to follow him! That is exactly what he is telling us. If we receive him as the Christ promised by God's prophets, then we must eagerly bear our throats to the sword he wields, expose all our loves to the cutting edge of his new creation. All the bonds of creaturely love are sliced clean, and we are free to refashion those loves in the one love who made us. Jesus says, “Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.” If the life we find is a life of love without Love Himself, then our loving lives are lost before they are lived. Only by surrendering our lives and receiving his love as our Life can we be found in Christ. Having discovered Christ, having received Christ, we are truly liberated to live as Christ. And this is the peace he died to give us.
We are deceiving ourselves when we believe that peace is simply the absence of acrimony and violence. Christ's peace is not merely the toleration of and respect for the cultural and political differences we find in the world. It is not enough for us to give a charitable nod to settled conflicts and the cessation of war. The reconciliation we long for, the harmony we were created for is found only when we receive the one whom the Father sent. And as Jesus makes surprisingly clear, to receive him as our Redeemer is to lose our lives on the point of his sword. And in dying we are born again so that we may die in Christ for one another.
Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP
Sisters of St Mary of Namur
Peace is not the absence of acrimony and violence. To cease conflict, sheath our swords, and smile at one another is preferable to wholesale war, of course, but the mere lack of strife and bloodshed is not the peace that Jesus instructed his apostles to preach. The peace of Christ is found only when we discover, receive, and live out our divinely created purpose. If the Christ born of the Virgin is one person with two natures—one human, one divine—and we are the adopted children of the Father brought into His family through Christ, then we too are creatures gifted with a human nature and drawn to completion in Christ, seduced by heaven's love to love eternally in heaven. This peace—our reconciliation to God by partaking in His divine nature—cannot be achieved by selling the truth of the gospel to the philosophy or political system most likely to quell the primitive brutality of war. To our surprise, Jesus says to his disciples, “Do not think that I have come to bring peace upon the earth. I have come to bring not peace but the sword.” What does Christ's sword cut in two? And which of these two severed parts are we to receive so that peace may be ours?
Jesus ends his class on how to be a faithful apostle with the startling announcement that his purpose on this earth is not to bring about global political harmony. He did not come to end war in our time. Instead, he claims, his purpose is to bring the sword that will cleanly and decisively sever the bonds of all human relationships so that our created purpose might be discovered, received, and lived out—whatever it may cost the family, the nations, or the whole human race. No fewer than eight times in Matthew's gospel reading this morning, Jesus teaches his apostles that he must be received as the one sent to bring us all back to the Father. But in order for us to receive him as our Redeemer, we must discover him as the Way, the Truth, and the Life, the final and unique source of all our ties here on earth. Jesus sends out his students and friends so that the world might hear and believe all that he has taught and bear witness to all that he has done: “Whoever receives you receives me, and whoever receives me receives the one who sent me.” By receiving Christ as the one sent to take us back to God, we abandon mother, father, brother, sister, friends; we take up his cross as our own, and everyone and everything we love now becomes a hateful distraction, a rabbit hole that can only lead us to a wonderland of temporary peace.
Surely, you may object, Jesus is not telling us to abandon our families and friends in order to follow him! That is exactly what he is telling us. If we receive him as the Christ promised by God's prophets, then we must eagerly bear our throats to the sword he wields, expose all our loves to the cutting edge of his new creation. All the bonds of creaturely love are sliced clean, and we are free to refashion those loves in the one love who made us. Jesus says, “Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.” If the life we find is a life of love without Love Himself, then our loving lives are lost before they are lived. Only by surrendering our lives and receiving his love as our Life can we be found in Christ. Having discovered Christ, having received Christ, we are truly liberated to live as Christ. And this is the peace he died to give us.
We are deceiving ourselves when we believe that peace is simply the absence of acrimony and violence. Christ's peace is not merely the toleration of and respect for the cultural and political differences we find in the world. It is not enough for us to give a charitable nod to settled conflicts and the cessation of war. The reconciliation we long for, the harmony we were created for is found only when we receive the one whom the Father sent. And as Jesus makes surprisingly clear, to receive him as our Redeemer is to lose our lives on the point of his sword. And in dying we are born again so that we may die in Christ for one another.
12 July 2009
Where's our will; where's our way?
15th Sunday OT: Amos 7.12-15; Eph 1.3-14; Mark 6.7-13
Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP
Sisters of St Mary of Namur
Brothers and sisters, like the Ephesians before us who heard the message of Paul, we gather this morning as we do every week to bless God the Father for raising His only Son, our Lord, Jesus Christ from the tomb. We bless Him for His gift of eternal life in Christ, for bringing us back into His holy family through Christ, and for bestowing upon us every spiritual blessing with His Holy Spirit. Our Father chose us in Christ before the foundation of the world, making us holy, without blemish before him. Loving His people, He destined us for adoption as His sons and daughters, to be taken into His kingdom as heirs by sending His Son among us in the flesh; both human and divine, Jesus lived as one of us, died as one of us, and returned to his Father's right hand as the one, perfect sacrifice that opened the gates of heavens for us and holds them open still. So that we might forever praise the glory of the Throne in heaven, God favors us through His Holy Spirit with every award, benefit, and honor we need to grow and flower as saints of the Church. In the body and blood of Christ, we are reclaimed, repaired, and reconstituted; made wholly new, delivered to divine freedom, and purified of every disabling transgression. His abundant gifts do not burden us. They liberate us from every evil and show us the Way in darkness. With wisdom and insight, Christ has revealed to us the mystery of his Father's will for the fullness of time: He brings all things in heaven and on earth to their completion, to their perfection in Christ. In him we are chosen, we are destined with the divine purpose, so that we who first and always hope in Christ will exist to praise his glory alone. In the words and deeds of Christ Jesus we see and hear the word of truth, the good news of our salvation; and believing in him, we are branded by the cleansing fire of His Holy Spirit. The fulfillment of this promise on Pentecost is the first payment of our inheritance, the first step toward our redemption as God's possession. Paul is supremely confident in the faith and fervor of the Ephesians. Are we as confident of our own dedication? Who do we think we are to take up the cross and follow Christ?
Paul writes to the Church in Ephesus from prison. As a prisoner of the Roman Empire, Paul preaches a gospel of freedom in Christ from the chains of sin and death. Even as he languishes in jail, Paul shouts out God's Word across the known world. Amos, a sheep-herder and dresser of sycamores, is sent by God to prophesy to Israel. Angrily confronted by the priest, Amaziah, and ordered to leave the temple, Amos says, “I was sent by God to speak His word.” And Jesus, calling the Twelve together, sends his friends into the world, giving them authority to command unclean spirits, to preach and to teach. A prisoner, a sheep-herder, a tax-collector, a handful of fishermen, a doctor, and a few ambitious corporate climbers—all chosen, all taught, all sent to do one thing: speak the Living Word of God in spirit and in truth so that the heirs of the Father might know that their inheritance is at hand. Not one of these apostles or prophets goes willingly. Not one goes without apprehension. Not one of them leaves to do God's will without believing that he is unprepared, unworthy. But they go b/c they trust that God does His work through them and will use them to bring His will to completion.
As baptized men and women, we have already accepted the call from God to be His apostles, to be those who go out and preach His gospel in word and deed. As the Body of Christ together in this chapel, we are here to say “Amen, so be it” to God's charge that we become Christs where we are. And though we may believe ourselves unprepared and unworthy, we are nonetheless vowed to do exactly that. In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul takes the time to describe to his brothers and sisters the origin and flowering of their work as heirs to the kingdom. His detailed account of their creation in love and their recreation in Christ's sacrifice is not just pretty theological rhetoric. His goal is to open their eyes and ears to the truth of their identity as ones who have been picked out, selected to do the job God has for them to do. Do you feel unprepared? Who doesn't? Nonetheless, you are a daughter of the Father, an heir. Are you unworthy? Who isn't? Nonetheless, you are a son of the Father, an heir. Are you a prisoner? A shepherd? A fisherman? Probably not. Are we without tools? Training? Experience? Maybe. Nonetheless, we are sent. The only important question now is: will you, will we go? If not, why not? What, who holds us back?
Amos is threatened by a priest who invokes both divine and worldly power, temple and king. Paul is threatened by imperial Rome who invokes its divine power in the exercise of worldly power, the Emperor is God. The apostles are threatened by temple, empire, and the rulers of this world—priests, soldiers, and demons. Though threatened from every direction by every force available, Amos, Paul, and the apostles go out anyway and do what their Father has commanded them to do. Who, what threatens you? The police department? Local, state, federal government? Your pastor? Spouse? Family? If so, listen again to Paul, the prisoner of Rome: “In [Christ] we were...chosen, destined...so that we might exist for the praise of his glory...In [Christ] you also, who have heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and have believed in him, [you also]] were sealed with the promised holy Spirit, which is the first installment of our inheritance...” What creature can un-choose you? What relationship do you enjoy that trumps your inheritance as a son or daughter of the Father? What deficiency in training, moral purity, motivation, or wit can defeat the promise of your baptism? “In accord with the riches of his grace that he lavished upon us,” we are free from every deficiency that limits us, holds us back, or fights to defeat us.
Are we as confident of our own dedication to Christ as Paul is of the dedication of the Ephesians? Who do we think we are to take up the cross and follow Jesus to heaven? We are, right now, everything we need to be to not only shout out our dedication for the world to hear but to continue our walk on the Way as well. We cannot be afraid or timid or lax. There's work to be done, God's work. And when we do this work with the Holy Spirit, we are more than capable; we are blessed. What we need is the will to do what we have promised to do.
Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP
Sisters of St Mary of Namur
Brothers and sisters, like the Ephesians before us who heard the message of Paul, we gather this morning as we do every week to bless God the Father for raising His only Son, our Lord, Jesus Christ from the tomb. We bless Him for His gift of eternal life in Christ, for bringing us back into His holy family through Christ, and for bestowing upon us every spiritual blessing with His Holy Spirit. Our Father chose us in Christ before the foundation of the world, making us holy, without blemish before him. Loving His people, He destined us for adoption as His sons and daughters, to be taken into His kingdom as heirs by sending His Son among us in the flesh; both human and divine, Jesus lived as one of us, died as one of us, and returned to his Father's right hand as the one, perfect sacrifice that opened the gates of heavens for us and holds them open still. So that we might forever praise the glory of the Throne in heaven, God favors us through His Holy Spirit with every award, benefit, and honor we need to grow and flower as saints of the Church. In the body and blood of Christ, we are reclaimed, repaired, and reconstituted; made wholly new, delivered to divine freedom, and purified of every disabling transgression. His abundant gifts do not burden us. They liberate us from every evil and show us the Way in darkness. With wisdom and insight, Christ has revealed to us the mystery of his Father's will for the fullness of time: He brings all things in heaven and on earth to their completion, to their perfection in Christ. In him we are chosen, we are destined with the divine purpose, so that we who first and always hope in Christ will exist to praise his glory alone. In the words and deeds of Christ Jesus we see and hear the word of truth, the good news of our salvation; and believing in him, we are branded by the cleansing fire of His Holy Spirit. The fulfillment of this promise on Pentecost is the first payment of our inheritance, the first step toward our redemption as God's possession. Paul is supremely confident in the faith and fervor of the Ephesians. Are we as confident of our own dedication? Who do we think we are to take up the cross and follow Christ?
Paul writes to the Church in Ephesus from prison. As a prisoner of the Roman Empire, Paul preaches a gospel of freedom in Christ from the chains of sin and death. Even as he languishes in jail, Paul shouts out God's Word across the known world. Amos, a sheep-herder and dresser of sycamores, is sent by God to prophesy to Israel. Angrily confronted by the priest, Amaziah, and ordered to leave the temple, Amos says, “I was sent by God to speak His word.” And Jesus, calling the Twelve together, sends his friends into the world, giving them authority to command unclean spirits, to preach and to teach. A prisoner, a sheep-herder, a tax-collector, a handful of fishermen, a doctor, and a few ambitious corporate climbers—all chosen, all taught, all sent to do one thing: speak the Living Word of God in spirit and in truth so that the heirs of the Father might know that their inheritance is at hand. Not one of these apostles or prophets goes willingly. Not one goes without apprehension. Not one of them leaves to do God's will without believing that he is unprepared, unworthy. But they go b/c they trust that God does His work through them and will use them to bring His will to completion.
As baptized men and women, we have already accepted the call from God to be His apostles, to be those who go out and preach His gospel in word and deed. As the Body of Christ together in this chapel, we are here to say “Amen, so be it” to God's charge that we become Christs where we are. And though we may believe ourselves unprepared and unworthy, we are nonetheless vowed to do exactly that. In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul takes the time to describe to his brothers and sisters the origin and flowering of their work as heirs to the kingdom. His detailed account of their creation in love and their recreation in Christ's sacrifice is not just pretty theological rhetoric. His goal is to open their eyes and ears to the truth of their identity as ones who have been picked out, selected to do the job God has for them to do. Do you feel unprepared? Who doesn't? Nonetheless, you are a daughter of the Father, an heir. Are you unworthy? Who isn't? Nonetheless, you are a son of the Father, an heir. Are you a prisoner? A shepherd? A fisherman? Probably not. Are we without tools? Training? Experience? Maybe. Nonetheless, we are sent. The only important question now is: will you, will we go? If not, why not? What, who holds us back?
Amos is threatened by a priest who invokes both divine and worldly power, temple and king. Paul is threatened by imperial Rome who invokes its divine power in the exercise of worldly power, the Emperor is God. The apostles are threatened by temple, empire, and the rulers of this world—priests, soldiers, and demons. Though threatened from every direction by every force available, Amos, Paul, and the apostles go out anyway and do what their Father has commanded them to do. Who, what threatens you? The police department? Local, state, federal government? Your pastor? Spouse? Family? If so, listen again to Paul, the prisoner of Rome: “In [Christ] we were...chosen, destined...so that we might exist for the praise of his glory...In [Christ] you also, who have heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and have believed in him, [you also]] were sealed with the promised holy Spirit, which is the first installment of our inheritance...” What creature can un-choose you? What relationship do you enjoy that trumps your inheritance as a son or daughter of the Father? What deficiency in training, moral purity, motivation, or wit can defeat the promise of your baptism? “In accord with the riches of his grace that he lavished upon us,” we are free from every deficiency that limits us, holds us back, or fights to defeat us.
Are we as confident of our own dedication to Christ as Paul is of the dedication of the Ephesians? Who do we think we are to take up the cross and follow Jesus to heaven? We are, right now, everything we need to be to not only shout out our dedication for the world to hear but to continue our walk on the Way as well. We cannot be afraid or timid or lax. There's work to be done, God's work. And when we do this work with the Holy Spirit, we are more than capable; we are blessed. What we need is the will to do what we have promised to do.
11 July 2009
Global Warming = Global Gov't, says Pope Gore
We've known all along that the Global Warming Alarmists had an agenda other than saving the planet from carbon-poisoning.
Now we they've named it:
“'Just two weeks ago, the House of Representatives passed the Waxman-Markey climate bill,' Gore said, noting it was “'very much a step in the right direction.' President Obama has pushed for the passage of the bill in the Senate and attended a G8 summit this week where he agreed to attempt to keep the Earth's temperatures from rising more than 2 degrees C.
Gore touted the Congressional climate bill, claiming it 'will dramatically increase the prospects for success' in combating what he sees as the 'crisis' of man-made global warming.
“'But it is the awareness itself that will drive the change and one of the ways it will drive the change is through global governance and global agreements.'”
Professor Fear
14 Week OT (Sat): Gen 49.29-32, 50.15-26; Matt 10.24-33
Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP
Sisters of St Mary of Namur
Joseph tells his brothers not to fear his wrath. “Can I take the place of God?” he asks. Jesus too urges his disciples not to be afraid of those who will persecute them. Only the One who can kill both body and soul deserves our fear. We might ask: what is fear? Our brother, Thomas Aquinas, tells us that sorrow is the passion we experience in the presence of evil; fear is the passion we feel in anticipation of future evil (ST.I-II.41.1). Moral theologian, Joseph Delaney, defines fear as “the unsettlement of soul consequent upon the apprehension of some present or future danger.” Friedrich Nietzsche infamously proclaimed, “Fear is the mother of all morality” (BGE). We could say that fear is a teacher. Fear rises in the human heart when evil threatens, when danger looms. But don't we usually think of fear as a kind of darkness itself, a trap that holds us fast in pain and anxiety? Aren't we supposed to suppress fear with faith? To overcome it by trusting in the providence of God? Joseph says not to fear. Jesus says, “Do not be afraid.” And at the same time, we are told “that fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.” So, are we being foolish or wise when we indulge the passion of fear?
In our clinical culture—where there are no sins only crimes and diseases—fear is understood as an emotional malady rather than the morally neutral passion that it is. This is why we so often hear that “fear of the Lord” is really meant to be understood as “awe of the Lord.” Why would we fear the God of mercy and love? Why be afraid of the One Who made us? We are not wrong to say that the proper human response to the presence of God is awe. But awe alone is simply an expression of wonder and amazement. We might feel awe in the presence of the Grand Canyon, our favorite athlete, or even a particularly powerful piece of literature. We are awed but not afraid. Fear is anxious anticipation. It's that sort of waiting that grips our souls at the mere thought of evil or danger. It warns us away; it cautions deliberation and demands rational attention. Like any of the principal passions, fear is best experienced as a wild animal tightly bound with the twin-leashes of intellect and will. The choices we make in fear can only be judged good or bad after they have been vetted by reason and deliberately acted upon. We are being neither foolish nor wise when we experience fear. Only acts—intentionally chosen—can lead us to folly or wisdom.
Joseph soothes his brothers' fear of his wrath by telling them that he is not God. Joseph's most terrible punishment is nothing when compared to the wrath of God. Likewise, while telling his disciples three times not to fear, Jesus tells them that there is one time when fear is the smart response. He tells them not to fear persecutors, those who can only kill the body. They are not to fear b/c they are held in the hands of a loving God. However, they are to fear this loving God b/c only He can kill body and soul. If there is any danger to anticipate, it comes from failing to honor the will of the One Who made you, the One Who can unmake you. So what Joseph and Jesus teaching us here? They are teaching us that it is indeed deadly foolish—when faced with the choice of betraying Him by accepting the spiritual rule of this world's princes—it is folly to choose against God. Why? Because it is God alone who loves us eternally. We are unmade by our own choosing when we choose the fleeting love of princes over the eternal love of the One Who gifted us with life.
Fear is a teacher. And the lesson is simple: the choice you are about to make is a dangerous one—think carefully, choose wisely. When you are faced with a dangerous or evil choice, always choose the option that best acknowledges God's abiding care for His creatures, the option that pulls you closer to your perfection in Christ. We can call this the morally good choice. At its root, this is the choice that plants and nourishes wisdom. It is the choice that offers true worship to the One Who is wisdom Himself.
Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP
Sisters of St Mary of Namur
Joseph tells his brothers not to fear his wrath. “Can I take the place of God?” he asks. Jesus too urges his disciples not to be afraid of those who will persecute them. Only the One who can kill both body and soul deserves our fear. We might ask: what is fear? Our brother, Thomas Aquinas, tells us that sorrow is the passion we experience in the presence of evil; fear is the passion we feel in anticipation of future evil (ST.I-II.41.1). Moral theologian, Joseph Delaney, defines fear as “the unsettlement of soul consequent upon the apprehension of some present or future danger.” Friedrich Nietzsche infamously proclaimed, “Fear is the mother of all morality” (BGE). We could say that fear is a teacher. Fear rises in the human heart when evil threatens, when danger looms. But don't we usually think of fear as a kind of darkness itself, a trap that holds us fast in pain and anxiety? Aren't we supposed to suppress fear with faith? To overcome it by trusting in the providence of God? Joseph says not to fear. Jesus says, “Do not be afraid.” And at the same time, we are told “that fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.” So, are we being foolish or wise when we indulge the passion of fear?
In our clinical culture—where there are no sins only crimes and diseases—fear is understood as an emotional malady rather than the morally neutral passion that it is. This is why we so often hear that “fear of the Lord” is really meant to be understood as “awe of the Lord.” Why would we fear the God of mercy and love? Why be afraid of the One Who made us? We are not wrong to say that the proper human response to the presence of God is awe. But awe alone is simply an expression of wonder and amazement. We might feel awe in the presence of the Grand Canyon, our favorite athlete, or even a particularly powerful piece of literature. We are awed but not afraid. Fear is anxious anticipation. It's that sort of waiting that grips our souls at the mere thought of evil or danger. It warns us away; it cautions deliberation and demands rational attention. Like any of the principal passions, fear is best experienced as a wild animal tightly bound with the twin-leashes of intellect and will. The choices we make in fear can only be judged good or bad after they have been vetted by reason and deliberately acted upon. We are being neither foolish nor wise when we experience fear. Only acts—intentionally chosen—can lead us to folly or wisdom.
Joseph soothes his brothers' fear of his wrath by telling them that he is not God. Joseph's most terrible punishment is nothing when compared to the wrath of God. Likewise, while telling his disciples three times not to fear, Jesus tells them that there is one time when fear is the smart response. He tells them not to fear persecutors, those who can only kill the body. They are not to fear b/c they are held in the hands of a loving God. However, they are to fear this loving God b/c only He can kill body and soul. If there is any danger to anticipate, it comes from failing to honor the will of the One Who made you, the One Who can unmake you. So what Joseph and Jesus teaching us here? They are teaching us that it is indeed deadly foolish—when faced with the choice of betraying Him by accepting the spiritual rule of this world's princes—it is folly to choose against God. Why? Because it is God alone who loves us eternally. We are unmade by our own choosing when we choose the fleeting love of princes over the eternal love of the One Who gifted us with life.
Fear is a teacher. And the lesson is simple: the choice you are about to make is a dangerous one—think carefully, choose wisely. When you are faced with a dangerous or evil choice, always choose the option that best acknowledges God's abiding care for His creatures, the option that pulls you closer to your perfection in Christ. We can call this the morally good choice. At its root, this is the choice that plants and nourishes wisdom. It is the choice that offers true worship to the One Who is wisdom Himself.
Molto Commentary: Caritas in veritate
Excellent commentary on the Holy Father's latest encyclical:
Catholic World Report Roundtable: Caritas in veritate
Catholic World Report Roundtable: Caritas in veritate
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