Dr. Rowan Williams intervenes at the Synod

As some you may know, the Synod of Bishops, convened by the Holy Father to discuss and set forward something of an agenda for the New Evangelization, is now underway. For those who are truly interested, there is plenty of coverage of this event. So, you don't need to waste time deciding whether or not to ignore me banging on about all the small details and nuances.

It is significant that tomorrow, the 50th anniversary of the opening of the Second Vatican Ecumenical Council and, as a result, the first day of the Year of Faith proclaimed by Pope Benedict XVI to observe this important event, falls during the first week of the Synod. In true Vatican II style, the Synod has an ecumenical dimension, that is, there are invited observers and even participants from other churches and ecclesial communions. One of the more prominent ecumenical participants is Dr. Rowan Williams, who serves as the Archbishop of Canterbury, but who is also retiring at the end of this year.

Archbishop Rowan delivered a very pertinent intervention during the Synod, which I think is worth quoting at length (you can read his whole address at his official website). This is the first time an Archbishop of Canterbury has addressed a Catholic Synod of Bishops, which itself is an instrument of collaboration established by Pope Paul VI as a post-conciliar reform. I simply want to post the sections of this speech that I take to be the heart of his remarks, which is about how our humanity is fully realized in and through contemplation. I wish I had more time at present to unpack this just a bit, but I don't. Besides, given the wonderful clarity with which Abp. Rowan expresses himself, I don't think I would have much to add that is of value:

5. To be fully human is to be recreated in the image of Christ’s humanity; and that humanity is the perfect human ‘translation’ of the relationship of the eternal Son to the eternal Father, a relationship of loving and adoring self-giving, a pouring out of life towards the Other. Thus the humanity we are growing into in the Spirit, the humanity that we seek to share with the world as the fruit of Christ’s redeeming work, is a contemplative humanity. St Edith Stein observed that we begin to understand theology when we see God as the ‘First Theologian’, the first to speak out the reality of divine life, because ‘all speaking about God presupposes God’s own speaking’; in an analogous way we could say that we begin to understand contemplation when we see God as the first contemplative, the eternal paradigm of that selfless attention to the Other that brings not death but life to the self. All contemplating of God presupposes God’s own absorbed and joyful knowing of himself and gazing upon himself in the trinitarian life.

6. To be contemplative as Christ is contemplative is to be open to all the fullness that the Father wishes to pour into our hearts. With our minds made still and ready to receive, with our self-generated fantasies about God and ourselves reduced to silence, we are at last at the point where we may begin to grow. And the face we need to show to our world is the face of a humanity in endless growth towards love, a humanity so delighted and engaged by the glory of what we look towards that we are prepared to embark on a journey without end to find our way more deeply into it, into the heart of the trinitarian life. St Paul speaks (in II Cor 3.18) of how ‘with our unveiled faces reflecting the glory of the Lord’, we are transfigured with a greater and greater radiance. That is the face we seek to show to our fellow-human beings.

7. And we seek this not because we are in search of some private ‘religious experience’ that will make us feel secure or holy. We seek it because in this self-forgetting gazing towards the light of God in Christ we learn how to look at one another and at the whole of God’s creation. In the early Church, there was a clear understanding that we needed to advance from the self-understanding or self-contemplation that taught us to discipline our greedy instincts and cravings to the ‘natural contemplation’ that perceived and venerated the wisdom of God in the order of the world and allowed us to see created reality for what it truly was in the sight of God – rather than what it was in terms of how we might use it or dominate it. And from there grace would lead us forward into true ‘theology’, the silent gazing upon God that is the goal of all our discipleship.

8. In this perspective, contemplation is very far from being just one kind of thing that Christians do: it is the key to prayer, liturgy, art and ethics, the key to the essence of a renewed humanity that is capable of seeing the world and other subjects in the world with freedom – freedom from self-oriented, acquisitive habits and the distorted understanding that comes from them. To put it boldly, contemplation is the only ultimate answer to the unreal and insane world that our financial systems and our advertising culture and our chaotic and unexamined emotions encourage us to inhabit. To learn contemplative practice is to learn what we need so as to live truthfully and honestly and lovingly. It is a deeply revolutionary matter.

9. In his autobiography Thomas Merton describes an experience not long after he had entered the monastery where he was to spend the rest of his life (Elected Silence, p.303). He had contracted flu, and was confined to the infirmary for a few days, and, he says, he felt a ‘secret joy’ at the opportunity this gave him for prayer – and ‘to do everything that I want to do, without having to run all over the place answering bells.’ He is forced to recognise that this attitude reveals that ‘All my bad habits…had sneaked into the monastery with me and had received the religious vesture along with me: spiritual gluttony, spiritual sensuality, spiritual pride.’ In other words, he is trying to live the Christian life with the emotional equipment of someone still deeply wedded to the search for individual satisfaction. It is a powerful warning: we have to be every careful in our evangelisation not simply to persuade people to apply to God and the life of the spirit all the longings for drama, excitement and self-congratulation that we so often indulge in our daily lives. It was expressed even more forcefully some decades ago by the American scholar of religion, Jacob Needleman, in a controversial and challenging book called Lost Christianity: the Words of the Gospel, he says, are addressed to human beings who ‘do not yet exist’. That is to say, responding in a life-giving way to what the Gospel requires of us means a transforming of our whole self, our feelings and thoughts and imaginings. To be converted to the faith does not mean simply acquiring a new set of beliefs, but becoming a new person, a person in communion with God and others through Jesus Christ

He ends his intervention with these words: "evangelisation is always an overflow of something else – the disciple’s journey to maturity in Christ, a journey not organised by the ambitious ego but the result of the prompting and drawing of the Spirit in us. In our considerations of how we are once again to make the Gospel of Christ compellingly attractive to men and women of our age, I hope we never lose sight of what makes it compelling to ourselves, to each one of us in our diverse ministries."

A note from somewhere

Since I am still not very technologically adept, I wanted to post something from my phone at long last. I am still amazed that I can do this.

The picture is of my Snack, taken at Natey B's soccer game a few weeks ago.

..., then hay is for horses...

Sorry, once I saw this I could not resist posting it. I think this kind of humor helps us put things in perspective and not take ourselves, even our obsessions and compulsions, quite so seriously.

Not the year 2525, but 1492

In fourteen hundred ninety-two
Columbus sailed the ocean blue.

He had three ships and left from Spain;
He sailed through sunshine, wind and rain.

He sailed by night; he sailed by day;
He used the stars to find his way.

A compass also helped him know
How to find the way to go.

Ninety sailors were on board;
Some men worked while others snored.

Then the workers went to sleep;
And others watched the ocean deep.

Day after day they looked for land;
They dreamed of trees and rocks and sand.

Santa Maria

October 12 their dream came true,
You never saw a happier crew!

“Indians! Indians!” Columbus cried;
His heart was filled with joyful pride.

But “India” the land was not;
It was the Bahamas, and it was hot.

The Arakawa natives were very nice;
They gave the sailors food and spice.

Columbus sailed on to find some gold
To bring back home, as he’d been told.

He made the trip again and again,
Trading gold to bring to Spain.

The first American? No, not quite.
But Columbus was brave, and he was bright.

I post this well-known, but today little-memorized, poem on Columbus Day in full awareness of all issues surrounding the so-called Columbian Exchange and the mixed legacy of Europeans making contact with inhabitants of what seemed to them a New World. Nonetheless, I believe that this day is worth commemorating, not in a triumphalist way, but as a significant date in world history.

Thanks to one of my Canadian friends for reminding me that today is Thanksgiving Day in that great country! Canadians, therefore, commemorate this day every year in a profound way.

In Christ my weakness is my greatest strength

This week I came across a passage from The Discipline of Grace, a book by Jerry Bridges, which I have not read. I read this passage in a post by Tim Challies, The Commitment of the Christian Life. The passage hit-me-where-I-live, in a manner of speaking. Reflecting on it, I think it is an insight that applies to virtually every Christian, both those who strive mightily and consciously for holiness and those who remain skeptical and discouraged about undertaking such efforts:

When we commit ourselves to the pursuit of holiness, we need to ensure that our commitment is actually to God, not simply to a holy lifestyle or a set of moral values... We should not seek holiness in order to feel good about ourselves... or to avoid the sense of shame and guilt that follows the committing of persistent sin in our lives. Far too often our concern with sin arises from how it makes us feel. Sinful habits, sometimes called "besetting sins," cause us to feel defeated, and we don’t like to be defeated in anything, whether it’s a game of Ping-Pong or in our struggle with sin

What caught my attention was Bridges' focus on struggling with sin, especially persistent sin, those sinful behaviors that we just keep repeating.

It is tempting to start rationalizing these behaviors, relativizing them, or simply letting them discourage us from trying, resulting in resignation that we will never be good enough for God, prompting us to say, Why try? This is why I think the first sentence of this passage is so crucial, it forces the question, Why am I striving to live "this" way?

Is the result of going a lengthy period of time without engaging in those sinful behaviors I am so prone to, to laud myself for how "good" I have been, or how "good" I am becoming as a result of my conscious striving? Conversely, when I sin (i.e., repeat that behavior yet again!) am I consumed with guilt and shame? Both of these responses are indicative of a mindset that I will save myself. It seems to me that this is precisely why how we feel, whether we've been "good" or "bad," is not of primary importance, which is different from asserting it is of no importance whatsoever.

Picking up the thread with which Challies began his post, I think it is important to point-out (yet again) that St. Paul frequently wrote about the Christian life in terms of an athletic competition, or an agon, which is a struggle, or contest. It is sometimes the case that we lose, we give in. But the key is not to give up. The key to not giving up is to realize that while we may have lost a particular battle, we are always already victorious in Christ. This is the point Paul is trying to get across in 2 Corinthians, which is where he wrote about "a thorn in the flesh was given to me, an angel of Satan, to beat me, to keep me from being too elated" (2 Cor. 12:7). This thorn becomes an occasion for the apostle to boast, even though, as he clearly states, there are other things, things that reflect more favorably on him, like "the abundance of revelations," about which he could boast.

Paul took his affliction to the Lord three times, praying that this "thorn" be removed from his flesh. The Lord told him, "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness" (2 Cor. 12:9). This is what caused Paul to write emphatically, "I will rather boast most gladly of my weaknesses, in order that the power of Christ may dwell with me. Therefore, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and constraints, for the sake of Christ;e for when I am weak, then I am strong" (2 Cor. 12:9b-10). As Corrie Ten Boom insisted, "When I try, I fail. When I trust, He succeeds!"

In light of the Year of Faith the Catholic Church is preparing to enter into this Thursday, 11 October, the 50th anniversary of the opening of the Second Vatican Ecumenical Council, which, at least to my way of thinking, was the long-awaited response to the Protestant Reformation, without dismissing the importance of the Council of Trent, it seems that reflecting on the universal call to holiness, which summons all the baptized to pursue a life of holiness, from an ecumenical perspective is warranted, not least of which because I think there is much Catholics can learn from Reformed Protestant Evangelical Christians.

Near the beginning of the nineteenth chapter of the book of Leviticus, one of the five books that constitute the Torah, in addition to the command we find later in the chapter, to "love your neighbor as yourself" (v. 18), we find another teaching echoed by Jesus: "Be holy, for I, the LORD your God, am holy" (v. 2); "be perfect, just as your heavenly Father is perfect" (Matt. 5:48). I think it is very important that Jesus gives this command after He lays out the Beatitudes and immediately after teaching His followers, His would-be disciples, to

love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your heavenly Father, for he makes his sun rise on the bad and the good, and causes rain to fall on the just and the unjust. For if you love those who love you, what recompense will you have? Do not the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet your brothers only, what is unusual about that? Do not the pagans do the same? (Matt. 5:45-47)

This is exactly the kind of thing that routinely trips us up, n'est ce pas? It is a difficult teaching, but what is the alternative, to hold grudges, to get even? Karma, as the saying goes, is a bitch, while grace is always lovely. Being a Christian forces one not only to acknowledge, but to confront, the paradoxes that we must enter fully into in order to become like Christ.

"Stand up straight at the foot of your love"

The National with "Bloodbuzz Ohio" is our Friday traditio this week. "Fake Empire" is another song by this band that has been our traditio.

The reason I chose this song for today is because last night I was listening to the radio program Bullseye and Matt Berninger, singer in this band, gave a great interview. Like me, Matt is a huge Smith's and Morrissey fan.

I still owe money to the money to the money I owe/I never thought about love when I thought about home/I still owe money to the money to the money I owe/The floors are falling out from everybody I know

Legal is not necessarily moral

I know, I know what I stated in the title of this post is obvious even to the most casual of observers. Not long ago, one of my FB friends posted a quote by economist Walter E. Williams in which he posed the question, "How does something immoral, when done privately, become moral when it is done collectively?" Williams goes on to wonder if legality is enough to establish morality, before concluding, "Legality, alone, cannot be the talisman of moral people."

I realize I have to tread lightly here, but this gets to the heart of the kind of economics I support, which is not merely humane, but human, and questions the long-ignored biblical directive not to loan money at interest. What prompted this post was listening to a Morning Edition interview with novelist Dennis Lehane about his latest novel Live By Night, from which he read an excerpt wherein his main character, Joe Coughlin, speaking to his brother says,

You, you buy into all this stuff about good guys and bad guys in the world. A loan shark breaks a guy's leg for not paying his debt. A banker throws a guy out of his home for the same reason, and you think there's a difference. Like the banker's just doing his job, but the loan shark's a criminal. I like the loan shark because he doesn't pretend to be anything else, and I think the banker should be sitting where I'm sitting right now

To that end, I also offer a link to an article, "Inequality and its Perils," by Jonathan Rausch, which I posed on this blog's FB page yesterday, as a main reason behind why I said in my homily that we all should be concerned about the growing gap between the one percent and everyone else. Here is one of several quotes that hit home with me from that article:

Inequality may also be destabilizing in another way. “Of every dollar of real income growth that was generated between 1976 and 2007,” Rajan wrote, '58 cents went to the top 1 percent of households.' In other words, for decades, more than half of the increase in the country’s GDP poured into the bank accounts of the richest Americans, who needed liquid investments in which to put their additional wealth. Their appetite for new investment vehicles fueled a surge in what Arkansas State’s Brown calls 'financial engineering'—the concoction of exotic financial instruments, which acted on the financial sector like steroids

Calling Goldman-Sachs, which NPR did a puff piece on this morning. Hell, oftentimes even loan sharks donate to charity.

I also like the way Lehane concluded his interview with Steve Inskeep, by answering Inskeep's question, "Did you worry about romanticizing crime as you wrote this novel?" by saying, "No. I was raised far too Catholic to think I'm going to write a gangster book in which the gangster gets out scot-free. And it's very early in the book that his father says to him violence procreates violence, and the children of your violence, metaphorically speaking, are going to come back for you."

You can read a free excerpt of the book, courtesy of NPR.