"A [preacher] who does not love art, poetry, music and nature can be dangerous. Blindness and deafness toward the beautiful are not incidental; they are necessarily reflected in his [preaching]." — BXVI
01 January 2014
31 December 2013
Mother of Our Freedom!
Solemnity of Mary, the Holy Mother of God
Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP
Our Lady of the Redneck Squirrels, MS
Listen Here (8.00am Mass)
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Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP
Our Lady of the Redneck Squirrels, MS
Listen Here (8.00am Mass)
We call her "Advocate of Eve," "Seat
of Wisdom," "Cause of Our Joy," "Help of Christians," and "Mother of
Sorrows." We greet her in prayer, “Hail, Mary! Full of grace!” And we
call upon her intercession using a variety of names: Our Lady of
Guadalupe, Our Lady of Knock, Queen of the Americas, and Our Lady of
Prompt Succor. But all these titles and names are meaningless unless we
understand the one title that makes all the others possible: Theotokos,
God-bearer, the one who gives birth to God. Mary is who and what she
is for us b/c she is first and foremost the Holy Mother of God. This
title was settled upon in 431 A.D. by the Church Fathers at the Council
of Ephesus. Fighting back a heresy that wanted us to believe that the
Christ was actually two different persons—one human and one divine—the
Fathers declared that Christ is just one divine person with two natures
(human and divine). Mary gave birth to the divine person of Jesus
Christ, making her the mother of God Incarnate. And since we never
celebrate a Marian feast w/o remembering the One to Whom Mary always
points us, we also celebrate her son, Jesus, the Messiah. Given all
this, I'd like to propose another title for Mary: Mother of Our
Freedom! Why this title? Paul writes to the Galatians, “When the
fullness of time had come, God sent his Son, born of a woman. . .so that
we might receive adoption as sons. . .So you are no longer a slave but a
son, and if a son then also an heir, through God.”
We are no longer slaves but
sons, heirs; and made so by God through the faithful cooperation of
Mary. The Mother of Our Freedom cooperated (operated with) the Holy
Spirit and received into her womb the seed of the Word, which grew into
the divine person of Jesus. His birth into human history and his death
into eternal life makes our salvation possible. He cuts a path through
the thorny tangle of sin and death and draws us behind him to be taken
up, made holy, and seated at our inherited place at the banquet table of
God. Our release from the slavery of sin, our escape from the
inevitability of death is accomplished by Christ through the cooperation
of Mary. She is the Mother of Our Freedom b/c she gave birth to the
only means of our freedom. From slaves to heirs, we move ever closer to
the perfection of Christ.
Our perfection in Christ is both
our work and the work of God. Just like our Blessed Mother cooperated
with the work of the Holy Spirit to conceive and give birth to Jesus, we
too are vowed to cooperate with the work of the Holy Spirit to conceive
and give birth to the Word, making his flesh and blood our flesh and
blood; surrendering our hearts and minds, and our hands and voices to
the holy work of preaching and teaching the Good News to the world. The
longer and harder we work at accomplishing this task, the higher we
climb in holiness and the deeper we delve into divine wisdom. Like the
shepherds who find the Holy Family in the manger and “made known the
message that had been told them about [the Christ],” we too are vowed to
finding Christ, following him, and making his message known. After
seeing the Christ-child, the shepherds go home, “glorifying and praising
God for all they had heard and seen.” And we too will return home, our
heavenly home, glorifying and praising God, if we do what we have
promised as followers of Christ to do. Mary held on the message of the
shepherds, reflecting on it in her heart, remembering Simeon's warning
in the temple that her heart would be pierced by the sufferings of her
son. While the shepherds adored and the people were amazed, Mary
quietly grieved, knowing the destiny of the one sent to redeem us all
from the slavery of sin.
Mary's grief must have been
nearly unbearable. Having assented to the conception of the Word and
given him birth, she is left with the sure knowledge that her son is the
long-awaited Messiah, the One who would suffer and die for the sins of
men. To gain our freedom, the Mother of Our Freedom had not only to
bear the Christ into this world, she had to witness his suffering and
death for our sakes. And not only was she a witness to his passion, she
suffered along with him as any mother would. Her heart, pierced by the
sword of grief, bled out even as Jesus bled out on the cross. As
painful as his death and her grief no doubt were, as a result, we rose
as a race to be the adopted children of the Father, heirs to His
kingdom. Granted the inheritance of the ages, in possession of God's
promise of eternal life, and the possibility of perfection through His
Christ, what do we do in order to give thanks? How do mere creatures
show appreciation to the One who created and re-created them? There is
nothing we can do or say that would equal this gift, that would express
the enormity of this sacrifice for us. We are left to do only that
which we have already vowed to do: bring the message of God's love and
mercy to the world in all we do, say, think, and feel. Despite
opposition, persecution, ridicule, and violence, we deliver the message
that Christ is Lord! When we do as Christ did, and speak as he spoke,
we grow closer to our perfection in him.
Some 1,600 years ago, a council
of Church Fathers hashed out a theological statement that confirmed what
most Christians at the time already believed: that Mary is the Holy
Mother of God Incarnate. As the mother of God, she bore into the world
the Son who grew up to teach and preach the saving word of his Father's
mercy to sinners. Not only did he teach and preach his Father's mercy,
he embodied that mercy; he gave that mercy flesh and bone and walked
among us as a sign of contradiction, a rock upon which men's hearts and
minds would be broken to reveal the truth inside. When confronted with
the raw truth that your sins are forgiven and that you are no longer a
slave to sin, the truth that dwells secretly within breaks out and
flourishes in the light of Christ. The shepherds wandered the desert on
the word of an angel until they found Christ. The truth in their
hearts dropped them to their knees in adoration. Those near the manger,
the ones who heard the shepherds' message, had their hardened hearts
softened and exposed. They were left amazed by the Good News. Mary,
Mother of Sorrows, had her heart broken on the knowledge that her son
would suffer and die. The truth in her heart led her to a life of
humble service to the Lord. Within the Body of Christ, his Church,
there is a truth that will renew us, a truth that will bring us to
remember our vows, and urge us to rededicate ourselves to the hard work
that Mary started when she said Yes to God. That truth is this: each
of us and all of us together are the flesh and blood of God's Word, not
just people who believe or people who do good works, but the People of
God who walk out into the world to be—however imperfect—Christs for one
another. Mary, Mother of Our Freedom, gave birth to the only means of
our freedom, Christ Jesus the Lord. Will you, will we say Yes to God,
conceive His Word, and keep in the world the mercy and love that Jesus
lived and died to bring to us? Do this holy work and the Lord will
bless you and keep you! The Lord will let his face shine upon you. .
.The Lord will look upon you kindly and give you peace!
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29 December 2013
Does narrative rescue God from metaphysics?
There are
contemporary theologians and philosophers of religion who challenge the dominance of what they call "onto-theological thinking,"
that is, following Nietzsche and Heidegger, these folks argue that it
was a big mistake for the Church's earliest theologians to translate the
Biblical witness of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob into the Greek
language of substance metaphysics: "Yahweh" becomes "Being Itself."
The identification of Abraham's
God with Plato's One seems natural enough when you consider Exodus 3.14,
"I AM that I AM" (or any of the dozens of renditions). With a name
like "I AM," you are inviting metaphysical speculation on the nature of
existence and your place in the scheme of things. If God is not a being
like all the others in the world, and yet He somehow manages to exist .
. .how exactly are we supposed to understand what it means to exist but
not as an existing thing? Aquinas' answer: God is not a being; He is
Being. He doesn't exists; He is existence.
Now, we could interpret the last two sentences above in purely metaphysical terms. "God" and "Being" are two names we give to the persistence of existing. No bible necessary here. We could also interpret those same two sentences in a purely Biblical sense, using Exo 3.14 as our text and show that "I AM" is a religious and not a philosophical concept. But as Gilson argues, this sort of splitting your worldview up into separate parts in order to keep them compartmentalized is dishonest. So, an honest believer's religious, philosophical, theological, etc. worldviews need to be consistent with one another.
Aquinas, wanting to be consistent, uses the first part of his Summa to address the question of who and what God is. To keep this post within a reasonable word count, I will simply quote Brian Davies on Aquinas' notion of God: "God. . .is the beginning and end of all thing, the Creator of the world which depends on him for its existence. . .Aquinas also holds that God is alive, perfect, good, eternal, omnipresent, omnipotent, and omniscient. . ."(129).* Taking up the characteristics usually assigned to The One of Platonic metaphysics, Aquinas attributes them to God and then argues that though we can have some limited knowledge of God, we cannot know God perfectly this side of heaven.**
Skipping over a couple of centuries of development in philosophical theology, we arrive at what is usually called "the Problem of Evil." In the past this argument has been more or less used by religious skeptics and atheists to poke holes in theism. For some, it's THE argument against theism and moves them to quit religion entirely. The classical form of the argument goes something like this:
1. God is omnipresent, omnipotent, and omniscient.
2. Evil exists.
3. Therefore, one or more of the "omni" attributions in #1 must be false.
#3 here is usually taken to mean that God cannot be all-knowing, all-powerful, and everywhere present if evil exists. He could be a combination of any of the two but not all three.
This is an example of philosophy helping theology untangle a problem. However, couldn't we say that philosophy caused this problem in the first place? There would be no Problem of Evil if we had resisted the temptation to translate Yahweh into Being Itself. Yahweh is not presented in scripture as possessing the three-omni's of Plato's One. When Yahweh is addressed as "All-powerful Lord," He is being praised in emotive language and not assigned the philosophical label "omnipotent." Etc. for the other two-omni's.
Our Nietzschean and Heideggerian theologians/philosophers would have us abandon the God of Plato's metaphysics and simply stick with the Biblical God of Abraham, etc. This notion of "forgetting metaphysics" has a number of different names in the academy, but the most common is "narrative theology." Generally associated with the Yale Divinity School, narrative theologians are impatient with complex metaphysical problems and all the messy philosophical waste that seems to be secreted from the history of onto-theological discourse. Their goal is to rescue biblical revelation from the clutches of onto-theological-philosophical obfuscation and return it to the center of the Church's communal life. This strikes me as a important consideration for the development of a Catholic theology of preaching.
However, in theology more generally, how we go about separating out philosophy from narrative in the biblical witness is beyond me. We could, I suppose, focus only on metaphysical language (being, cause, essence, etc) and remove it from our theologizing about revelation. But then that leaves us unable to ask epistemological questions (i.e., how do we know?). We could just say that philosophy is really about wisdom and telling stories is the best way to disseminate and promote wisdom. I wouldn't disagree entirely with this, but we are still left with deciding what counts as wisdom and what doesn't. We also have the problem of interpreting and applying a story's wisdom to concrete situations. That's called hermeneutics. And it comes with a whole mule-load of philosophical considerations. . .and so on.
So, our theological enterprise is not doable without philosophy. We might disagree about which philosophical approach to take, but philosophy as a way of thinking and talking about problems in human discourse is a non-negotiable. It's here to stay. To paraphrase an old prof of mine: "Philosophy always seems to be its own undertaker!"
*"Aquinas on What God is Not," in Aquinas's Summa Theologiae: Critical Essays, ed. Brian Davies, Rowan and Littlefield, 2006, 129-144.
**It is this "divine hiddenness" that causes some sceptical philosophers and theologians to question the possibility of knowing anything at all about God. Some go so far as to argue that the obscurity of God--intended or not--is sufficient reason to withhold belief in His existence. The argument goes, if God loves me and wants me to be saved; and if believing in God is all-important to my eternal salvation; then revealing Himself to me would be an act of salvific love, while remaining hidden is an act of cruelty. I'm skipping over several crucial steps in the argument, of course, but you get the idea: divine hiddenness is an epistemological nightmare.
Now, we could interpret the last two sentences above in purely metaphysical terms. "God" and "Being" are two names we give to the persistence of existing. No bible necessary here. We could also interpret those same two sentences in a purely Biblical sense, using Exo 3.14 as our text and show that "I AM" is a religious and not a philosophical concept. But as Gilson argues, this sort of splitting your worldview up into separate parts in order to keep them compartmentalized is dishonest. So, an honest believer's religious, philosophical, theological, etc. worldviews need to be consistent with one another.
Aquinas, wanting to be consistent, uses the first part of his Summa to address the question of who and what God is. To keep this post within a reasonable word count, I will simply quote Brian Davies on Aquinas' notion of God: "God. . .is the beginning and end of all thing, the Creator of the world which depends on him for its existence. . .Aquinas also holds that God is alive, perfect, good, eternal, omnipresent, omnipotent, and omniscient. . ."(129).* Taking up the characteristics usually assigned to The One of Platonic metaphysics, Aquinas attributes them to God and then argues that though we can have some limited knowledge of God, we cannot know God perfectly this side of heaven.**
Skipping over a couple of centuries of development in philosophical theology, we arrive at what is usually called "the Problem of Evil." In the past this argument has been more or less used by religious skeptics and atheists to poke holes in theism. For some, it's THE argument against theism and moves them to quit religion entirely. The classical form of the argument goes something like this:
1. God is omnipresent, omnipotent, and omniscient.
2. Evil exists.
3. Therefore, one or more of the "omni" attributions in #1 must be false.
#3 here is usually taken to mean that God cannot be all-knowing, all-powerful, and everywhere present if evil exists. He could be a combination of any of the two but not all three.
There are hundreds of different reasonable responses to the Problem of
Evil. I'm keen on the Free Will Defense myself: evil is allowed by God
so that human freedom may be maximized; or since God wills that human
freedom be maximized, He allows evil, which inevitably results from the
abuse of human freedom. This is basically Aquinas' response, so we know
it's the correct one.
This is an example of philosophy helping theology untangle a problem. However, couldn't we say that philosophy caused this problem in the first place? There would be no Problem of Evil if we had resisted the temptation to translate Yahweh into Being Itself. Yahweh is not presented in scripture as possessing the three-omni's of Plato's One. When Yahweh is addressed as "All-powerful Lord," He is being praised in emotive language and not assigned the philosophical label "omnipotent." Etc. for the other two-omni's.
Our Nietzschean and Heideggerian theologians/philosophers would have us abandon the God of Plato's metaphysics and simply stick with the Biblical God of Abraham, etc. This notion of "forgetting metaphysics" has a number of different names in the academy, but the most common is "narrative theology." Generally associated with the Yale Divinity School, narrative theologians are impatient with complex metaphysical problems and all the messy philosophical waste that seems to be secreted from the history of onto-theological discourse. Their goal is to rescue biblical revelation from the clutches of onto-theological-philosophical obfuscation and return it to the center of the Church's communal life. This strikes me as a important consideration for the development of a Catholic theology of preaching.
However, in theology more generally, how we go about separating out philosophy from narrative in the biblical witness is beyond me. We could, I suppose, focus only on metaphysical language (being, cause, essence, etc) and remove it from our theologizing about revelation. But then that leaves us unable to ask epistemological questions (i.e., how do we know?). We could just say that philosophy is really about wisdom and telling stories is the best way to disseminate and promote wisdom. I wouldn't disagree entirely with this, but we are still left with deciding what counts as wisdom and what doesn't. We also have the problem of interpreting and applying a story's wisdom to concrete situations. That's called hermeneutics. And it comes with a whole mule-load of philosophical considerations. . .and so on.
So, our theological enterprise is not doable without philosophy. We might disagree about which philosophical approach to take, but philosophy as a way of thinking and talking about problems in human discourse is a non-negotiable. It's here to stay. To paraphrase an old prof of mine: "Philosophy always seems to be its own undertaker!"
*"Aquinas on What God is Not," in Aquinas's Summa Theologiae: Critical Essays, ed. Brian Davies, Rowan and Littlefield, 2006, 129-144.
**It is this "divine hiddenness" that causes some sceptical philosophers and theologians to question the possibility of knowing anything at all about God. Some go so far as to argue that the obscurity of God--intended or not--is sufficient reason to withhold belief in His existence. The argument goes, if God loves me and wants me to be saved; and if believing in God is all-important to my eternal salvation; then revealing Himself to me would be an act of salvific love, while remaining hidden is an act of cruelty. I'm skipping over several crucial steps in the argument, of course, but you get the idea: divine hiddenness is an epistemological nightmare.
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28 December 2013
Might Makes "Right," or Fascism Kills
The Feast of the Holy Innocents always prompts me to wonder: how do we -- allegedly among the most civilized nations on Earth -- allow the slaughter of our children by the thousands everyday? Part of the answer can be found in exploring how we've allowed Cultural Marxism to infect our nation's politics, and how we've adopted Soft Fascism as a way of life.
From a 2011 post:
Peter Smith, writing at The Bell Towers, reports on an annual public meeting in the UK called Battle of Ideas.
One paragraph of his report very nicely sums up a distinction I've been trying to flesh out in my homilies for years now:
John Haldane,
a softly-spoken Scots academic from St Andrews. . .and fellow-traveler Catholic, put forward the
proposition that the fundamental cultural debate is between one
collection of ideas, called ‘the anti-realists’, and another, those of
‘the realists’, and that this cultural tension is manifest in political
and social policy. Real ideas (by which I think he also meant realistic)
contained at their core the notion that the universe is natural,
objectively ‘out there’, knowable but distinct, and informing views on
sexuality, sex, marriage, death, etc. Anti-realist ideas, by contrast,
consider everything as human constructs, plastic and malleable, which
can be bended and altered but which inherently are unknowable. Realism
and anti-realism contain fundamentally different understandings about
what is knowable and what is not, what can be change and what cannot,
and mankind’s place in creation.
The distinction btw Realism and Anti-realism is applicable in all
branches of philosophy, especially the philosophy of science
(essentially a practical application of epistemology), and used
extensively in all the humanities.
Applying the distinction to political discourse is extremely useful b/c
it gives us a way of addressing and refuting such contemporary political
monsters as "identity politics," "victim culture," and other creations
of Gramscian cultural Marxism.
The basic political move of the anti-realists is this:
1. Use appeals to perspectivism to undermine objectively knowable truth: "From my perspective, X is oppressive/unjust/wrong." The operative concept to push here is the primacy of "context."
2. Once perspectivism has been absorbed into the engines of culture
(media, books, academy), move quickly to promote relativism: "You have your perspective on X and I have mine. There's no way to tell which perspective of X is really true."
3. Now that relativism is established, move to nihilism: "Since
there's no way to know whose perspective on X is really 'true,' we can
conclude that there is no such thing as 'truth.' about X."
4. Nihilism leads to eliminativism: "If there is no 'truth' about X, then there's no reason to believe that there is any such thing as 'truth' at all."
5. Eliminativism supports "the will to power" in an attack on any claim that something is True: "Your claim that there is such a thing as 'truth" is just an exercise of your _____ power." The blank is usually filled with an adjective describing the race, class, gender, an/or sexual orientation of the accused.
6. Once the Will to Power is broadly adopted, it's simply a matter of
making sure that Your Side has the strongest will to grab the most
power. Since there can be no appeal to an objectively knowable standard
of distinguishing truth from error (anti-realism), truth is whatever the
most politically powerful say it is: "The greedy 99% is being exploited by the 1%."
Anti-realism is the philosophical basis for fascism: the State determines reality/truth.
This is all just a highly simplified summary. The moves between stages
are complex and would require whole books to flesh out. However, nota bene, that the steps I've outlined here are on naked display in our contemporary political arena.
One example: notice how easily our Cultural Betters throw the use "fact"
to describe what it is in reality nothing more than an opinion. Once
everything is "just an opinion," then anything at all can be called a
"fact." Challenging the "fact" exposes you to the charge that you are
abusing your white, middle-class, heterosexual male power.
H/T: Michael Liccione (from Facebook)
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25 December 2013
Squirrels, or I Told Ya. . .
Vicious little rodents are just waiting for me to go outside. . .
Attack of the Squirrels from Gregory Bianchi on Vimeo.
_________________
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Attack of the Squirrels from Gregory Bianchi on Vimeo.
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24 December 2013
A primer on the Incarnation
My annual post on the nature of the Incarnation:
The Nativity of Christ, or Christmas
("Christ Mass"), celebrates one of the most important events of the
Church: the incarnation of the Son of God. Like the Trinity, the
Virgin Birth, the Resurrection, etc., the Incarnation is one of those
rock-bottom Christian beliefs that most Christians assent to but
probably don't really understand. Though Catholics all over the world
affirm their belief in the incarnation every Sunday by reciting the
Creed, how many could explain this tenet of the faith in the simplest
terms?
Let's start with a story. . .
The archangel Gabriel appears to
Mary and announces to her that God has chosen her to be the mother of
the Christ Child, His Son. Mary says, "Your will be done" and the Holy
Spirit descends on Mary, giving her the child. Nine months later the
Christ is born in Bethlehem.
Simple enough story, right? If
we left the incarnation there, we would still have the basic truth of
Christ's arrival into the world. Things get a little more complicated
when we start to think about what it means for the Son of God (who is
God) to take on human flesh and live among us. How does the God of the
Old and New Testament become incarnated yet remain sovereign God? We
are immediately confronted by what theologians call "the Christological
question": how is the man Jesus also God?
Before this question was settled by the Council of Nicaea in 325 A.D., a number of answers were offered and rejected:
Jesus is really a man who possesses God-like qualities.
Jesus is really God in the appearance of a man.
Jesus is half-God and half-man.
Jesus' soul is divine but his body is human.
Jesus' body is human but his mind is divine.
Complicating matters even more
was the lack of an adequate theological vocabulary with which to think
about and write about the incarnation. Early Christian theologians
turned to the available philosophical vocabularies for help. The most
prominent philosophical system in the first few centuries of the Church
was a developed form of Platonism. Borrowing heavily from the
Platonists, the Church Fathers crafted a creedal statement that said:
The Father and the Son are the same in substance ("consubstantial"),
meaning that they are the same God.: "God from God, light from light,
true God from true God." The Son was not created in time like man but
rather begotten from all eternity. He "became incarnate" through the
Virgin Mary--fully human in all but sin.
This creedal statement defined
the orthodox position of the Catholic Church. However, interpretations
of the creed abounded and additional councils had to sort through them
all in order to discover the orthodox expression of the true faith. In
the end, the Nicene Creed was taken to mean that Jesus was fully human
and fully divine: one divine person (one body/soul) with two natures (human
and divine). "Person," "essence," "being," "nature" are all terms
borrowed from Greek philosophy. So, as the West discovered new ways of
thinking philosophically, these terms took on different meanings and our
interpretations of theological expressions of the truth developed as
well. The basic truth of the incarnation does not change; however, how
we understand that truth does change.
For example, the Greek word we translate as "person" is prosopon,
or mask. This term was used in the Greek theater to denote the
different characters played by one actor. A single actor would hold a
mask in each hand and shift the masks in front of his face to say his
lines, indicating that the lines were being said by different
characters. Applying this term to God, the Blessed Trinity, we arrive
at a single actor (God) using three masks (Father, Son, Holy Spirit).
Same actor, different characters. Ultimately, this metaphor is woefully
inadequate for expressing the deepest truth of the Trinity. Yet, we
still say that the Trinity is three divine persons, one God. "Person"
as a philosophical term used to describe a theological truth had to be
developed.
Eventually, we came to understand several vital distinctions: The
Church uses the term "substance" (rendered also at times by "essence"
or "nature") to designate the divine being in its unity, the term
"person" or "hypostasis" to designate the Father, Son and Holy Spirit in
the real distinction among them, and the term "relation" to designate
the fact that their distinction lies in the relationship of each to the
others (CCC 252).
So, God is one substance; three divine persons; distinguished from one another not by their naturesor persons but by their relations one to
another. The incarnation then is the second divine Person of the one
God becoming a divine person with two substances or natures.
You are one person with one nature: "I am human."
God is three divine persons with one nature: "I am divine."
Christ is one divine person with two natures: "I am human and divine."
Aquinas, quoting Irenaeus, writes, "God became man so that man might become God." The incarnation of the Son makes it possible for us to become God (theosis). This is how Catholics understand salvation.
___________________________So, God is one substance; three divine persons; distinguished from one another not by their natures
You are one person with one nature: "I am human."
God is three divine persons with one nature: "I am divine."
Christ is one divine person with two natures: "I am human and divine."
Aquinas, quoting Irenaeus, writes, "God became man so that man might become God." The incarnation of the Son makes it possible for us to become God (theosis). This is how Catholics understand salvation.
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The ultimate triumph of Light over darkness
NB. A Christmas homily from 2011. . .
Solemnity of the Nativity of the Lord
Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP
St. Dominic Church, New Orleans
In 431 A.D., our Church Fathers
gathered in Ephesus for a council and decreed that the Blessed Virgin
Mary would be honored with the title, Theotókos, God-bearer or
the one who gives birth to God. For a majority of Christians at the
time, this decree was yawn-inducing b/c Mary had been known as Theotókos
for a couple of centuries. However, one bishop, Patriarch Nestorius of
Constantinople, objected to the title because he thought it was
irrational to believe that a creature of God—a human woman—could be the
mother of the God who had created her. He preferred the title,
Christotokos or bearer of the Christ. This title makes it clear that
Mary is the mother of Christ, the man, but not the mother of Christ, who
is God. Nestorius was credibly accused of dividing Christ into two
persons—a human person and a divine person—and thus destroying our means
of salvation. After all, we are saved by Christ precisely because he
is one person possessing both a human nature and a divine nature. The
council fathers declared Nestorius' teachings heretical and supported
the teachings of his opponent, the bishop of Alexandria, St. Cyril. In
support of his position at the council, Cyril wrote, “I am amazed that
there are some who doubt whether or not the Virgin should be called Theotokos. For if our Lord Jesus Christ is God, how is the Virgin who gave him birth, not the one who gives birth to God?”
Now, you are probably thinking
to yourself: Father, we're all stuffed with ham, sweet potatoes, yeast
rolls, and pie. . .and we have a big mess to clean up at home. . .what
have we ever done to you to deserve a lecture on fourth-century
Christological controversies? Well, you've probably done something in
the last year to deserve it. . .but that's not really the point. The
point is this: the event we celebrate today is not Jesus' birthday. .
.this is not a Birthday Party. The event we celebrate is (quoting
John's gospel): “And the Word became flesh and made his dwelling among
us. . .” The Word became flesh. Who is the Word? Again, quoting John,
“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word
was God.” Don't miss that last bit: “and the Word was God.” God
took on skin and bone and blood, and He dwelt among us as one us.
Today, we celebrate the event of our Creator stepping into His creation
to become a creature. This is most emphatically NOT a birthday party. .
.this is an Incarnation Party! The Word of God, the Christ, who is God,
becomes Man so that we might become Christs.
And that's the answer to my next
question: why did the Word of God, the Christ, who is God become Man?
So that we might become Christs. John writes, “. . .to those who
accept [Christ] he gave power to become children of God.” To be a child
of God is to be a co-heir to God's Kingdom, to be a brother or sister
to the Son of God. To be one of the Father's children is to be one who
sees “[Christ's] glory. . .full of grace and truth.” And to see
Christ's glory, full of grace and truth is to see clearly the righteous
path back to the Father. When we follow that path—with humility, in
obedience; loving, forgiving, showing mercy all along the way—we grow
closer to Christ and become more and more like Christ. But the only
reason we can even begin to walk this path is because the Word of God,
the Christ, became human like one of us; suffered and died like one of
us; and rose from the tomb in order to show us how it's done. He had to
go first, so that we might follow.
Today, Christ is born to the Virgin Mary. She is Theotókos,
God-bearer, Mother of God Incarnate. And if you step onto the narrow
way, the path of holiness, you too can bear Christ into the world; and
not only bear him into the world, but become him for others in the
world. Your words, deeds, thoughts can all reveal God's glory to the
world just as Christ himself revealed God to us. When you leave this
evening. . .when you go back out there. . .back to your Christmas mess. .
.or someone else's mess. . .wherever you go. . .remember that this holy
day celebrates the ultimate triumph of Light over darkness. . .and so,
as you go, be “the true light, which enlightens everyone.” Be Christ!
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A Catholic literature?
MERRY CHRISTMAS! HAPPY NEW YEAR!
BLESSED EPIPHANY!
The Squirrels have been less than vigilant in their war against my reading regime. They must've heard that I am focusing on spiritual/pleasure reading during this break. When I'm reading in preparation to teach a course, they are merciless in attacking my peace.
A HancAquam post wouldn't be complete w/o a link to some books. . .so, here's a piece from Cosmos The In Lost (yes, that's how he arranges it):
There's a debate raging amongst Catholic literary critics about whether or not Catholic literature is dead and/or dying. Prof. Rosman denies that "literature of faith" is either dead or dying and defends the existence of a robust Catholic literary scene. The title of the post linked above refers to Greg Wolfe, editor of Image, a journal that trades in the literature of faith.
Check it out!
___________________
18 December 2013
What happens when we surrender. . .?
NB. I'll be traveling toward The Squirrels tomorrow morning. So, here's a Roman homily from Year B that I never got to preach. . .
4th Sunday of Advent: 2 Sm 7:1-5, 8-14, 16; Rom 16:25-27; Luke 1:26-38
Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP
Convento SS Domenico e Sisto, Roma
Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP
Convento SS Domenico e Sisto, Roma
Unless
Samuel Beckett is right, and we wait for Nothing when we wait on
Godot, then when we wait, we wait in need. There is something or
someone we do not know, something or someone we do not have; yet feel,
yet know we must have; so, we wait. When we wait, we desire. Waiting
is what the body does with unfilled desire. We sit here or walk there,
or stand, leaning against someone stronger or more patient, perched
right on the edge of bounding up in mock surprise to shout, “Finally!”
Exasperated, or relieved in anger. You are here. Finally! I have you.
But it is too soon yet to claim victory, to claim our prize for
patient waiting. Unlike Estragon and his philosophical friend, Vladmir,
both waiting for Godot, our advent clock has many more ticks and tocks
before the final gift is dropped, before our longest longing is eased,
and our waiting in hope is rewarded with the birth of the Word into the
world. What we have to wait with today is Mary’s surrender, the end of
her anticipation as she answers the archangel’s call to be the ark of
the Lord, His tent in flesh: “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord.
May it be done to me according to your word.” If and when, in our
waiting and in our desiring, if and when we surrender, what happens?
This week of our long wait begins a headlong fall into the celebration of the birth of the Word into the world. In just one week, we sit up and notice one more time that hope is born for us; faith is pushed out from eternity and into our lives; love is gifted with a body, a mind, a soul for our sakes. In just one week, the one John the desert prophet promised arrives and begins his thirty-three year presence to those who have waited for centuries. But today, this last Sunday of our waiting, we party with the angels as they and we hear a young Jewish woman, confronted with a choice by the archangel Gabriel, we all hear her choose life—his, hers, ours, and the world’s. We all hear her choose to be the mother of God, the God- Bearer. “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.” Look! I serve the Lord. Let His will be for me as you say it is.
What would happen to your life if, every morning from now on, you awake up and say aloud, “I serve the Lord. Let His will be mine.” First, understand that this is a prayer of priestly sacrifice. All the elements of sacrifice are present in that one prayer: you are a priest offering yourself as victim to a loving God on the altar of your day. Second, once sacrificed with this prayer, this act of human will, you belong body and soul to He Who made you. He made you and his love holds you in being as His creation. Your prayer of sacrifice is an act of gratitude, of giving thanks. Third, if you will do His will you will expend your day in His service as His handmaid, his servant. Every thought you have, every act you do, every passion you feel has already been given over to the fulfillment of His will. Fourth, His will for all His servants is to love Him, love ourselves, and love our neighbors. We are able to love, that is, we are gifted with the capacity for love, to love in virtue of our creation by Love Himself. He loved us first so that we might love. Lastly, as His willing priests, our lives are made new again, reconstituted from the smallest cell out, gifted with the newest possible life available, the life of His Son. We are made Christ for others. We are the walking Word, the talking Word, the feeling, doing, working Word—priests forever now in an entirely sacrificial life of becoming perfectly His will in the flesh.
This young Jewish woman, given a choice by Gabriel, says YES to His will for her, and becomes the first Christian priest and prophet, the template from whom all of us as future priests and prophets will be pressed out. On the cross, dying for our sakes, the Lord himself follows his mother in saying yes. Abandoned by his friends, betrayed by one he loves, despairing, seemingly lost to pain and death, and believing himself to have been forsaken to his enemies, our Lord will cry out to His Father, “Yes! I will all that you will!” His life of perpetual sacrifice begins. This is what we long for. This is what we desire, what we need. Though we are constantly deflected and distracted in our priestly obligations to be love and to love others, we nonetheless know and feel the ineffable hollowness of a life that refuses to love, that wills not to be one for another.
Advent is one long Mass of Thanksgiving and Praise, a month-long prayer of rejoicing and sacrifice as we turn away from sin and toward our perfection in Christ. What must we do? Unclench your fist. Unlock your heart. Fling open wide your mind. Make straight the path of the Lord to your very existence. Say YES! And join Christ at the altar as priest and victim. He is coming. He has come. He will come again. Wait. Need. Desire. And the flood of God as the Gift of Love Himself will overwhelm you and make you Christ.
__________________This week of our long wait begins a headlong fall into the celebration of the birth of the Word into the world. In just one week, we sit up and notice one more time that hope is born for us; faith is pushed out from eternity and into our lives; love is gifted with a body, a mind, a soul for our sakes. In just one week, the one John the desert prophet promised arrives and begins his thirty-three year presence to those who have waited for centuries. But today, this last Sunday of our waiting, we party with the angels as they and we hear a young Jewish woman, confronted with a choice by the archangel Gabriel, we all hear her choose life—his, hers, ours, and the world’s. We all hear her choose to be the mother of God, the God- Bearer. “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.” Look! I serve the Lord. Let His will be for me as you say it is.
What would happen to your life if, every morning from now on, you awake up and say aloud, “I serve the Lord. Let His will be mine.” First, understand that this is a prayer of priestly sacrifice. All the elements of sacrifice are present in that one prayer: you are a priest offering yourself as victim to a loving God on the altar of your day. Second, once sacrificed with this prayer, this act of human will, you belong body and soul to He Who made you. He made you and his love holds you in being as His creation. Your prayer of sacrifice is an act of gratitude, of giving thanks. Third, if you will do His will you will expend your day in His service as His handmaid, his servant. Every thought you have, every act you do, every passion you feel has already been given over to the fulfillment of His will. Fourth, His will for all His servants is to love Him, love ourselves, and love our neighbors. We are able to love, that is, we are gifted with the capacity for love, to love in virtue of our creation by Love Himself. He loved us first so that we might love. Lastly, as His willing priests, our lives are made new again, reconstituted from the smallest cell out, gifted with the newest possible life available, the life of His Son. We are made Christ for others. We are the walking Word, the talking Word, the feeling, doing, working Word—priests forever now in an entirely sacrificial life of becoming perfectly His will in the flesh.
This young Jewish woman, given a choice by Gabriel, says YES to His will for her, and becomes the first Christian priest and prophet, the template from whom all of us as future priests and prophets will be pressed out. On the cross, dying for our sakes, the Lord himself follows his mother in saying yes. Abandoned by his friends, betrayed by one he loves, despairing, seemingly lost to pain and death, and believing himself to have been forsaken to his enemies, our Lord will cry out to His Father, “Yes! I will all that you will!” His life of perpetual sacrifice begins. This is what we long for. This is what we desire, what we need. Though we are constantly deflected and distracted in our priestly obligations to be love and to love others, we nonetheless know and feel the ineffable hollowness of a life that refuses to love, that wills not to be one for another.
Advent is one long Mass of Thanksgiving and Praise, a month-long prayer of rejoicing and sacrifice as we turn away from sin and toward our perfection in Christ. What must we do? Unclench your fist. Unlock your heart. Fling open wide your mind. Make straight the path of the Lord to your very existence. Say YES! And join Christ at the altar as priest and victim. He is coming. He has come. He will come again. Wait. Need. Desire. And the flood of God as the Gift of Love Himself will overwhelm you and make you Christ.
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15 December 2013
Make your heart firm by rejoicing
3rd Sunday of Advent/Gaudete
Sunday (A)
Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP
Our Lady of the Rosary, NOLA
As a newly oiled priest, I
served in campus ministry at the University of Dallas. Our office in
the student union was always roiling with activity. During the Advent
season, which arrives just before the end of the semester and finals
week, the liturgical energy of the office was always focused on
Christmas. Christmas music. Christmas decorations. Christmas chatter.
On occasion, frustrated with such blatant liturgical incorrectness, I
would growl something anti-Christmas from my office-cave and remind
everyone that we were in Advent not Christmas. The students would
smile indulgently; murmur, “Yes, Father, we know,” and go right
back to their Christmasy chatter. I become known as The Advent Nazi,
or Friar Grinch. The only support afforded me in my lonely push to
keep Christmas out of Advent was James' letter “to the twelve
tribes in the dispersion,” where the apostle urges his
Jewish-Christian community: “Be patient, brothers and sisters,
until the coming of the Lord.” All of Advent is about patiently
waiting for the birth of Christ. Gaudete Sunday is all about
rejoicing, and rejoicing never waits!
So,
why do we celebrate Gaudete Sunday during Advent? Three words: joy,
expectation, revelation. Like Laetare
Sunday during Lent, Gaudete
Sunday breaks the fast of the season, giving us a peek at the coming
revelation of the Incarnation. These “times off” were more
welcomed in ages past. Fasting and abstinence were a bit more severe
and a Sunday spent partying a week before Christmas and Easter served
to relieve the burden of penance. Nowadays, we jump from Thanksgiving
straight to Christmas without much of anything in between. This is an
old complaint among us Advent Nazis, one that falls on ears deafened
by hypnotizing muzaked carols and the cha-ching of the cash register.
Those of us who push Advent as its own season usually fail in our
mission, managing only to foist upon Christmas-happy Catholics modest
concessions. I'm told again and again, “Stop being Father Grinch,
Father!” And with great pastoral sensitivity and an ear to the
popular mood, I usually just release an exasperated sigh and do my
best to preach that without a sense of expectation, waiting is
useless to our growth in holiness; without a sense of the hidden,
revelation has nothing to reveal; and without a little holy fear, joy
is just a mood-stabilizer for the bubble-headed.
Properly
understood then, Gaudete Sunday
is more than just a peek at the holiday to come; it is a
expectant-peek into the unveiling of our joy in Christ. We re-joice.
We en-joy. We can be joy-ful. Where do we find joy? Why do find joy
in this
but not that?
Why aren't we gladden by all that God has made? Why isn't everyone
joyful? St. Thomas gives us an important (if somewhat dry) insight:
“[. . .] joy is caused by love, either through the presence of the
thing loved, or because the proper good of the thing loved existed
and endures in it [. . .] Hence joy is not a virtue distinct from
charity, but an act, or effect, of charity”(ST
II-II 28.1, 4). Joy is an effect of love. Love causes joy. Where
there is no love, there can be no joy. This may sound simple enough,
but how often have you heard joy explicitly linked to the virtue of
charity? Don't we usually think of being joyful, as a temporary
emotional spike in an otherwise hum-drum existence? We move along the
day in a comfortable flat-line until something happens to us that
lifts our spirit, bumps the happy meter up a peg or two. Then the
line goes flat again, waiting for the next spike, for the next jump
to excite the bored soul.
This
waiting for another spike in joy is not what the Lord has in mind
when tells us that he has come so that our “joy may be complete.”
Complete joy is not intermittent joy, or
joy-for-some-time-in-the-future. Complete joy is perfected joy,
all-the-time-joy. This doesn't mean that we're supposed to be walking
around with idiot grins on our faces, or leaping about like squirrels
on speed. Remember: joy is caused by love. And, as followers of
Christ, we all know that loving God, others, and self is the First
Commandment. Being joyful then is a necessary corollary to this
command, its natural effect. If Thomas is right—and, of course, he
is—we can be perfectly joyful b/c the “presence of the thing
loved” (i.e., God) is guaranteed. He is with us always. Even during
Advent, while we wait for his arrival, he is with us. When James
writes, “Be patient, brothers and sisters, until the coming of the
Lord,” he knows that Christ never left and will come again. How is
our joy made perfect? By the perfect presence of the one we love. Our
waiting in Advent is practice; that is, a rehearsal meant to heighten
our anticipation for the renewal of creation, the renewal that both
Isaiah and Jesus prophesy as the mark of God's favor.
That
renewal goes well beyond my renewal, your renewal, and the renewal of
the entire human race. Though we are privileged in many ways as
creatures created in His image and likeness, God's favor is
universal, repairing every deficiency; healing every wound; and
making straight the crooked paths to His righteousness. Isaiah sees
the land itself rejoicing at the Lord's return: “The desert and the
parched land will exult; the steppe will rejoice and bloom. They will
bloom with abundant flowers, and rejoice with joyful song.” When
John's disciples ask Jesus about his ministry, Jesus replies, “Go
and tell John what you hear and see: the blind regain their sight,
the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are
raised. . .” In the presence of God, nothing broken, thrown away,
disparaged, or lost remains unclaimed; no one hurt, hungry, poor, or
lonely remains untended. There is nothing to fear, nothing worth
fearing. Therefore, Isaiah says, “Strengthen your feeble hands,
steady your weak knees, encourage those with frightened hearts: Be
strong, fear not! Here is your God! He comes with vindication; with
divine justice He comes to save you.”
And
save you He will, if you will to be saved. Ask to be saved and be
patient. Wait upon the Lord. James writes, “See how the farmer
waits for the precious fruit of the earth, being patient with it
until it receives the early and the late rains. You too must be
patient.” How does the farmer wait on the rain? He does everything
necessary before the rain arrives, everything necessary so that the
rain can do its best work for his benefit. The farmer's waiting is
never merely passive. He waits, but he works while he waits. James
says, “Make your hearts firm, because the coming of the Lord is at
hand.” That's our work while we wait: making our hearts firm. .
.not hard but firm. A firm heart never faints in fear, or flutters
with impatience, or races with undue excitement. A firm heart beats
with steady, consistent joy in the loving presence of God; a firm
heart is always pointed toward the Lord and never forgets the Way of
righteousness. Waiting—especially waiting upon the Lord—is good
exercise for the heart. We wait for a revelation at Christmas, the
unveiling of the Christ Child, Emmanuel. Tonight, we rejoice b/c he
is with us even now. We rejoice b/c he arrives. . .again. And our
renewal, the renewal of all of creation is at hand! “Those whom the
Lord has ransomed will return. . .crowned with everlasting joy; they
will meet with joy and gladness, and sorrow and mourning will flee.”
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Procrastination Music, or Sing Me Another Nap
My taste in music is a lot like my taste in movies. . .Kinda Redneck.
I don't buy CD's or download mp3's. Mostly, I just listen to standard urban radio and that means Top 40 stuff.
If I'm reading, I will listen to something incredibly pretentious like Japanese lutes or Russian Orthodox chant.
I do like some alternative music, but so much of it has passed me by since I stopped paying attention. Past favs: The Smiths, Sonic Youth, New Order.
In an effort to catch-up I surfed around YouTube (instead of grading papers, composing spring semester syllabi, or writing a Gaudete Sunday homily) and found something I really like.
This link will take you to a music mix-up that features songs from 20+ contemporary groups that fall roughly into what's being called "post-rock."
The music is ambient and somewhat unsettling at times. Lots of piano, violins, soft vocals, etc.
One of the bands I particularly like is Mogwai, a group out of Glascow.
NB. When I listen to the music mix-up linked above, I minimize the YouTube screen and just listen. . .so, the vids that accompany the music could be inappropriate or offensive in some way. I've never seen them.
______________________NB. When I listen to the music mix-up linked above, I minimize the YouTube screen and just listen. . .so, the vids that accompany the music could be inappropriate or offensive in some way. I've never seen them.
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13 December 2013
Wise Works Vindicate
“.
. .wisdom is vindicated by her works” (Matthew 11.19)
Ever
practical and very much aware of our human frailties, Jesus dares us
to do more than simply be wise. He dares us to work wisely, or to
accomplish wise works. The phrase “wisdom is vindicated by her
works” is comparable to “without works faith is dead.” While
wisdom and faith are different virtues, the works that complete each
virtue look very much alike. The difference might be that while good
works show faith, wise works vindicate wisdom.
Generally, we use “vindicate” to mean something like “to right
a wrong.” However, an obsolete use of the word makes much more
sense here: “to set free.” Consider: “wisdom is set free
by her works,” or “wisdom is let loose by her works.” In
the context of Jesus' remarks in Matthew, this rendition helps us to
understand that the false charges being made against the Lord will be
seen as false once his wisdom is set free/let loose by his wise
works. The question is: who among his enemies then and among us even now have
the eyes to see and the ears to hear the wisdom of his words and deeds?
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12 December 2013
Hear Elizabeth say to you. . .
NB. I partially chickened-out. The first part of this homily will be improvised.
Our Lady of Guadalupe
Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP
Notre Dame Seminary, NOLA
[Vocation
story: encounter at the Altar of the Kings, National Cathedral in
Mexico City, 1981.]
How
do you hear God's Word spoken to you? When God sends word to you,
when He calls out your name and picks you up to accomplish His will,
how
do you hear Him? Mary hears and sees an angel. Elizabeth hears and
sees Mary. John, still in his mother's womb, leaps with joy at just
being near the Lord. Mary, Elizabeth, John all respond viscerally to
the Word; that is, not only are they moved spiritually—their souls
lightened, hearts and minds brightened—their viscera, their guts
are churned, stirred up. In the presence of the Word and at his
approach, these servants of God are snared; they are toiled-up-in the
embracing glory of their Savior. From her divine trap, Elizabeth
prophesies to Mary: “Blessed are you who believed that what was
spoken to you by the Lord would be fulfilled.” How do you hear the
Word spoken to you?
Now,
it's highly unlikely that any of us will be visited by Gabriel, or
run across a burning bush, or hear Christ speak to us from a
crucifix. That these miraculous events are improbable shouldn't
prevent us from waiting on the Word. Waiting requires patience; it
requires silence. Waiting—especially waiting on the Word—also
requires perseverance, a long, hard dedication to sticking with it,
staying firmly balanced btw Doing the Will of the Lord Now and being
prepared to leap into Doing His Will Next. But more than anything
else, waiting on the Word demands that we surrender ourselves to the
inevitable strangeness of God's ways; that is, if we decide
beforehand how
we will hear Him, we may never hear Him. Leave aside for the moment
the need to forget what we think we ought to hear Him say and focus
on the way we expect to hear. Mary, Elizabeth, John all hear and see
the glory of their Savior in different ways. Abraham, Moses, Elijah
hear and see the same Word spelled in radically different ways. What
they all recognize in the Word is joy. Not simply an emotional
elation or a fleeting thrill but the lightness and brightness, the
pleasure of just being near the source of the Father's mercy.
While
you balance btw Now and What Comes Next, open yourself to joy, open
yourself to the visceral punch of delight that our Lord will swing
your way. Do this and you will hear Elizabeth say to you, “Blessed
are you who believe that what is spoken to you by the Lord is
fulfilled.”
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11 December 2013
Do you believe that His word is fulfilled?
NB. I will be the principal celebrant at tomorrow's NDS Mass. Right now I'm planning on preaching w/o a text. . .who knows, I may chicken out in the morning. Here's a OLG homily from 2011.
Our Lady of Guadalupe
Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP
St. Dominic Church, NOLA
Just last week—on the solemnity of the Immaculate Conception—we heard
the archangel Gabriel declare to Mary, “Hail, full of grace! Blessed are
you among women for you have found favor with God.” Tonight we read
about Mary's visit to her elderly cousin, Elizabeth, a woman who's been
barren her whole life and is now pregnant with John the Baptist. When
Mary greets her cousin, John leaps with joy in his mother's womb. And
Elizabeth, in a fit of wonder and faith confirms the angel's greeting to
Mary, “Most blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of
your womb. . .Blessed are you [Mary] who believed that what was spoken
to you by the Lord would be fulfilled.” Do you, like Mary, believe that
what is spoken to you by the Lord will be fulfilled? And if you believe,
do you act in the world as one who has been spoken to by God?
Elizabeth proclaims Mary “blessed” b/c she—Mary—believed what was spoken
to her by the Lord would be fulfilled. And b/c she believes His word,
she submits her will to the will of God and now carries in her womb the
Word made flesh. For centuries, almost since the very beginning, the
Church has held our Blessed Mother up as the model of Christian service,
the model of what it means to say Yes to the Father's invitation to
allow His Word to take root in the human soul. If Mary is the model of
the faithful Church; and the Church is the Body of Christ; and we are
all members of that Body, then it follows that Mary's fiat—let it be
done to me according to His word—is also our response to the Father's
invitation to welcome and allow His Word to take root in each one of us.
If we hear this invitation and raise our own fiat, then Elizabeth's
praise of Mary is also her praise for us: “Blessed are those who believe
that what is spoken to them by the Lord will be fulfilled.” Likewise,
Mary's response to Elizabeth's praise is our response as well, “My soul
proclaims the greatness of the Lord; my spirit rejoices in God my
savior.”
Does your soul proclaim the Lord's greatness? Does your spirit rejoice
in your Savior? We can all understand why Mary would sing out like
this. She's been visited by an archangel. She's been given the Son of
God as her child. She's been favored above all women and called blessed.
She's got every reason to say that her soul proclaims God's greatness
and that her spirit rejoices in her Savior. Why would any of us repeat
her proclamation? We've not been visited by an angel or given birth to
the Word made flesh or been called blessed and most favored. Oh, but we
have. Not in the same way that Mary was, but we have most certainly been
given the Word made flesh and blood in the sacrament. And we've heard
His Word spoken many, many times at Mass. The question is: do we believe
that His Word will be fulfilled? Do we act in the world in a way that
demonstrates our belief? If we do, then our souls do proclaim the
greatness of God and our spirits do rejoice in our Savior. If you don't,
if you don't believe and act on His Word, then there is a way to get
right with God. Confession, repentance, and penance: receiving in the
sacrament of confession the forgiveness won for us by the Cross and
Empty Tomb.
Sin is the principal means used by the Enemy to prevent us from giving
God his dutiful worship and from carrying out our vow to be Christs in
the world. Plain and simple. Sin. Disobedience. The Enemy tempts, and we
fall. But falling is never a reason to stay fallen. Get back up and
receive all that Christ died to freely give you. God loves you and wants
you to participate in His divine life. But He will not coerce you; He
will not dominate or intimidate us into living with Him. He invites,
seduces, exhorts, all but pleads. Confess, repent, and do penance so
that you may follow Mary into blessedness.
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