Forgiveness revisited

It's funny to me that Monday's post kicked up a stir on social media. But then, the Lord's Prayer is not as straightforward as we Christians tend to think it is. TO give just a glimpse of the complications involved, I offer David Bentley Hart's article "A Prayer for the Poor."

Beyond that, there are the differences between Matthew's version of this prayer and Luke's (see Matthew 6:12 and Luke 11:4). Above all, Luke's is much shorter. But when it comes to the felt need of the one praying it to forgive others, both versions tie the pray-er's willingness to forgive to being forgiven. One little difference, in the original Greek is that Luke's version uses hamartias ("misses") in the first instance- usually translated as "sins" in the NT- and opheilonti (one owing- debtor) in the second- translated as "all who are indebted to us." Matthew uses "debt" for both.

Of course, God not only stands always ready to forgive us but, in and through Christ, we're always already forgiven! Hence, the onus of forgiveness is willingly taken up by the person who prays after the manner taught by Jesus himself. In other words, how can I, in good conscience, ask the Father to forgive me if I am not willing to forgive others? The simple answer is, I can't.

Forgiving as many times as someone offends me, praying for and doing good to my enemies, not seeking to get even or ahead, are some of the most difficult of Jesus' teachings. Like with the Lord's teaching on wealth, we almost reflexively seek to attenuate these teachings. Saint Paul writes about these things as engaging in the agon, the struggle. Any war or battle a Christian fights, as Saint Benedict, who uses martial imagery in this regard (and only in this regard), notes, is an internal one.

Again, what I wrote arose from a prayer experience I had had the previous day. I don't write about those things often. I hadn't done so in a while. I was reminded about why I don't. I still think one of the evils we pray to be delivered from in the Lord's Prayer is the evil of not standing ready to forgive. As with all things I post here, to paraphrase The Dude, that's just like my opinion, man. So, you can take it or leave it.

I took a three-day break from social media this week. I needed it and enjoyed it. Finding a good way to engage remains a struggle for me. Less is better than more, just as some is better than none.

Our traditio for this second week of 2022 is an oldie and a goodie: Simple Minds' "Alive and Kicking." Why? Because, by the grace of God, I am alive and kicking.

On the grace of forgiveness & the work it entails

"forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us and lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil." These are words that Christians pray all the time, daily even. Currently, I am having an interior struggle, the specifics of which I am not going to bore you with. As I prayed the first Our Father of Our Lady's Rosary yesterday, it dawned on me that perhaps the evil to which we are tempted is not to forgive those who trespass against. More, specifically, perhaps the evil to which I am tempted is not to forgive those who have trespassed against me.

I certainly think that is a useful and not wholly inaccurate way of understanding these two clauses, which in Engish translation, together form an independent clause as part of the Our Father. Hard-heartedness is real. Many days, I would rather not forgive. I would rather get even or perhaps prevail, triumph. Other times, it seems weirdly good to hold onto my grudges and resentments. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know refusing to forgive is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die. I guess I'll just add the observation that it is a slow death.

Forgiveness is work, sometimes hard work. Forgiveness is grace. Just as we can only love because we are first loved, we can forgive only because we are first forgiven. More than that, before we can really be forgiven we must forgive. Isn't this why Jesus, in the Lord's Prayer, makes this conditional? Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against. This conditional is found in Greek. In his indispensable, no-frills, translation of the New Testament, David Bentley Hart renders it thus: "And excuse us our debts, just as we have excused our debtors."

So, we can only forgive because we've been forgiven and we must forgive to be forgiven. What this indicates to me is the ongoing nature of transformation. As Paul urges, we must be willing to engage in the agon, the struggle. Grace and effort are not mutually exclusive. It's important to keep in mind that grace is given for my effort, not earned as a result of it.

On the Lord's baptism

At least for Roman Catholics in the United States, the liturgical season of Christmas ends today. Today is the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord. For some reason today it seems easier to take a broader view.

At what might be called a "macro" level, along with the Nativity and the adoration of the magi, Jesus' baptism can be seen as an Epiphany, a manifestation of the divine. Jesus' baptism, because the Father and the Spirit appear on the scene, it is truly a manifestation of the triune nature of God: Father, Son, and Spirit. Not just a manifestation but an theophany.

It is an assertion that goes back to patristic times that through his baptism, the Lord sanctified not just water, but the whole of creation.

While it is utterly obvious, is that to be baptized (as well as to suffer and die), Jesus had to be incarnated, that is, he had to have a body. This is the whole thing when it comes to sacramentality, is it not? After all, as you can tell by the suffix -urgy, liturgy is something you do, enact, perform, etc., as opposed to just something you think. Every sacrament is administered and received through a liturgy, a rite. Every sacramental rite includes an epiclesis, a "calling down." It is the Holy Spirit who is called down.

In baptism, the epiclesis occurs when the celebrant calls the Spirit down on/into the water, which is done while putting a hand into the water, touching it. But because Trinity refers to one God in three (divine) persons, where one is present the other two are as well. It is in this holy water that we are baptized "in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit." Given that baptism by complete immersion remains and will likely always remain the premier way to be baptized, in baptism we are immersed, plunged into the very life of God- Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, a life characterized by unity, the result of agape.

Among its several meanings, baptism is a rebirth. But it is rebirth through dying, being buried, and rising with Christ to new life. More than a birth, baptism is a resurrection.

Baptism, along with confirmation, which is closely associated with baptism and that, in a sense, can be said to "complete" baptism, not orders, not matrimony, is the fundamental sacrament of the Christian life. I deeply believe that the synodal process in which the Church is currently engaged is aimed at highlighting this truth and bringing the reality of ecclesial life more in line with it.

The final part of the final Intercession for Morning Prayer for this feast, the Church prays to Christ that he will "renew the spirit of adoption among the royal priesthood of the baptized."

As to Jesus' own baptism, I think what Karl Barth wrote in the second part of the fourth volume of his magisterial Church Dogmatics, shows well the Lord's solidarity with us in his baptism:

No one who came to the Jordan was as laden and as afflicted as He. No one was as needy. No one so utterly human, because so fellow-human. No one confessed his sins so sincerely, so truly as his own, without side-glances at others. He stands alone in this, He who was elected and ordained from all eternity to partake of the sin of all in His own person, to bear its shame and curse in the place of all, to be the man responsible for all, and as such, wholly theirs, to live and act and suffer. This is what Jesus began to do when He had Himself baptized by John with all the others. This was the opening of His history as the salvation history of all the others

Epiphany: being troubled by the Incarnation

Yesterday, 6 January, most Roman Catholics around the world celebrated Epiphany. Epiphany, of course, is a celebration of the magi finding and offering homage to the infant Jesus, "the newborn king." It is from the three gifts that we extrapolate 3 magi. Tradition has even bestowed on the magi names: Caspar, Melchior, and Balthasar.

Adoration of the Magiy, unfinished painting by Leonardo Da Vinci, ca, 1481

The three gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh are symbolic of Jesus's divinity, royalty, and humanity respectively. Because they represent "the nations" (i.e., non-Jewish peoples of the world), the three magi are often depicted as black, Asian, and white. Just as in Acts 10 we read about the so-called "Pentecost of the Gentiles," Matthew's account of the magi coming from the nations to worship the King of Israel, who is also the Lord of the Universe, can perhaps be viewed as "Christmas of the Gentiles."

In many traditionally Catholic countries, Epiphany is understood as "Little Christmas." It is a day on which gifts are exchanged.

In pondering the Gospel reading for Epiphany, I am struck by the end of Matthew 2:3. The beginning of the verse notes that Herod "was greatly troubled" by the prospect of the birth of a male child who might have a legitimate claim to his throne. But the second part of the verse points out that "all Jerusalem" was greatly troubled with him. Why?

One answer to that question is the prospect of change, especially radical change, let alone the revolutionary change Jesus came to bring, is usually not very welcome. After all, the status quo is what we know.

It has been noted that the Incarnation of the Son of God “is so earth-shattering that it enacts something akin to the psychoanalytic concept of trauma” on the world (John Milbank, Slavoj Zizek, Creston Davis, Paul’s New Moment: Continental Philosophy and the Future of Christian Theology . Grand Rapids: Brazos Press, 7).

If not greatly troubled, perhaps we might do well to let ourselves be at least somewhat troubled by the radical and revolutionary nature of Christ's coming in time, to let ourselves in on the traumatic, often depicted as merely dramatic, implications of the Incarnation.

Before I forget (again): A Happy, Blessed, Joyful Christmas to all my old calendar Orthodox friends!

Maybe a bit too predictably, our traditio for this first Friday of 2022 is the choir of King's College Cambridge singing "We Three Kings of Orient Are."

Humility as a New Year begins

The greater and more complete thy knowledge, the more severely shalt thou be judged, unless thou hast lived holily. Therefore be not lifted up by any skill or knowledge that thou hast; but rather fear concerning the knowledge which is given to thee. If it seemeth to thee that thou knowest many things, and understandest them well, know also that there are many more things which thou knowest not. Be not high-minded, but rather confess thine ignorance. Why desirest thou to lift thyself above another, when there are found many more learned and more skilled in the Scripture than thou? If thou wilt know and learn anything with profit, love to be thyself unknown and to be counted for nothing.

That is the highest and most profitable lesson, when a man truly knoweth and judgeth lowly of himself. To account nothing of one's self, and to think always kindly and highly of others, this is great and perfect wisdom. Even shouldest thou see thy neighbor sin openly or grievously, yet thou oughtest not to reckon thyself better than he, for thou knowest not how long thou shalt keep thine integrity. All of us are weak and frail; hold thou no man more frail than thyself The Imitation of Christ Book I Chapter II Sections 3-4

Becoming human in the poor circumstances he did, Jesus surely did not regard equality with God as something to be held onto (Philippians 2:6). He became a marginal person, among marginal people. He lived in an out-of-the-way village, etc.

In January 2018 and January of last year, on that day shortly after New Year's Day, the day before you have to get back to what we like to call "real" life, I posted something from the spiritual classic The Imitation of Christ. On 3 January 2018, I was up late due to the anxiety I felt about returning to my regular routine. As I read a few things seeking help to relieve my anxieties, I found a website featuring Thomas á Kempis' classic spiritual text. After reading it, I composed a post that nothing but what I read and found comforting: a post. Afterward, I was able to go to bed.

Last 3 January, thinking back on 2020 and trying to muster the strength to face 2021, which, at least for me, proved to be a far more difficult year than 2020, I recalled that snowy night a year prior. And so, once again, posted something from á Kempis' spiritual masterpiece. Tonight, as I pray for the strength, the hope, to start 2022, like a lot of people, I feel anxious about what lies ahead.

And so, this Sunday night, as darkness descends, albeit with a lovely sunset, I pray for the humility necessary to fully understand with true wisdom that is Jesus Christ.

Peace to all who read this as you embark on the voyage of 2022. Remember, Christmas is a celebration of Emmanuel, God-with-us. Remembering that God is with us is how you keep Christmas alive all year. As Pope Francis said today in his first Angelus message of this New Year: "God loves to dwell among us."

Learning to see: a brief "take" on (a too?) early Epiphany

As I mentioned in an earlier post, liturgically speaking, the Christmas season this year seemed like a four-car pile-up: Christmas, Holy Family, Mary, Mother of God, and Epiphany all in about a week. I mention this not only because it is exhausting (but in that good way) but because I wonder how much of the great mystery of God's Incarnation we can really take in during such a short period.

If I could ask the U.S. bishops to do anything at all, my requests would have nothing to do with political matters. I would humbly petition them to put Epiphany back on the fixed date of 6 January, when nearly all other Roman Catholics throughout the world observe it, thus giving us back the 12 Days of Christmas. I would ask them- though this is done regionally (largely in the Western states, I think), not nationally, to restore Ascension Thursday instead of putting it on the Fourth Sunday of Easter.

This year, I guess the magi took the freeway instead of the scenic route to the dwelling in Bethlehem! This reminds me of the words to the song "Run Rudolf Run," written by Johnny Marks and originally made popular by Chuck Berry, but for those of my generation, Bryan Adams' version, which appeared on the very first A Very Special Christmas album, is perhaps best known: "Run, run Rudolph, Santa's got to make it to town/Santa make him hurry, tell him he can take the freeway down/Run, run Rudolph 'cause I'm reelin' like a merry-go-round." Substitute some really quick camels and/or dromedaires for Rudolf and magi for Santa and you can see what I mean.

What struck me this year about Epiphany arises from the Prayer after Communion for Mass during the Day, found in the Roman Missal:

Go before us with heavenly light, O Lord,
always and everywhere,
that we may perceive with clear sight
and revere with true affection
the mystery in which you have willed us to participate.
Through Christ our Lord

In Saint Matthew's account of the Visitation of the Magi, apart from being led to their destination by the star, their encounter seemed quite ordinary: "they saw the child with Mary his mother" (Matthew 2:11). Despite the ordinariness of the inspired author's description of this encounter, he points out that the Magi, nonetheless, "prostrated themselves and did him homage" and then offered their gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh (Matthew 2:11).

This pericope (i.e., episode, as it were), is chock full of symbolism and rife for allegory. For example, the gifts are said to be indicative of Jesus' divinity (frankincense), his royal kingship (gold), and, because it was often used on the bodies of the dead, myrrh for his humanity. But the prostration and the gifts, in a word, their homage arose in what might've appeared to many in an ordinary dwelling and directed toward the ordinary child of an ordinary mother.

It seems to me that a message of Epiphany is the importance, perhaps even the necessity, of seeing reality through ordinary appearances. This means engaging reality according to all the factors that constitute it. Therefore, we must learn to see Christ in his many appearances. As Saint Teresa of Calcutta noted, Christ often appears to us in the distressing disguise of the beggar, the dying, the poor down-and-out person, etc. It is only when learn to truly see these events become an encounter, an Epiphany.

Like the magi, we must learn to discern, to follow the star, to heed the dream, to see God in the ordinary circumstances in which we daily live, move, and have our being. Too often we walk around wondering, "Where is God?" Both the simple and the complicated answer to this question is "More often than you think, God is right in front of you." But you must have eyes to truly see.

It is by gaining spiritual sight that you "revere with true affection the mystery in which [God has] willed us to participate." This gets back to the practice of the basic spiritual disciplines: prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. I will point out, as I did yesterday, it is no accident that prayer comes first.

It is genuine prayer that prevents our practice of the discipline from becoming yet another instance of mistaking means for ends. It also bears noting that genuine prayer consists of a lot of silence, a lot of listening. Having ears to hear often results in the development of eyes to see.

Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God

Readings: Num 6:22-27; Ps 67:2-3.5-6.8; Gal 4:4-7; Luke 2:16-21

In truth, we can only call God “Father” because of Jesus Christ. It is only because of him that we call the Blessed Virgin Mary “our Mother.” Today, the first day of a New Year, the Church, which consists of those reborn through baptism as God’s sons and daughters, honors Mary, the Mother of God.

Mary is called “Mother of God” because, like Saint Paul, in our second reading, notes: “When the fullness of time had come, God sent his Son, born of a woman.”¹ What proof is there that we are God’s children? Paul asserts that the truth of this assertion is that God has sent the Holy Spirit into our hearts. So, just as “no one can say ‘Jesus is Lord,’ except by the holy Spirit,” no can cry our “Abba Father!” except by the same Spirit.²

Because we are God’s children through Christ, we are truly free. Freedom in a Christian sense is not freedom from but freedom for. In the chapter following the one from which our reading for this holy day is taken in his Letter to the Galatians Paul spells this out:

For you were called for freedom... But do not use this freedom as an opportunity for the flesh; rather, serve one another through love. For the whole law is fulfilled in one statement, namely, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself”³

At least in Christian terms, this is not just what freedom is for, lovingly serving one another is what it means to be truly free. Note that there is not an ounce of self-assertion in the Christian concept of freedom. This means something significant in terms of how we, as Christians, live our lives.

If having the Holy Spirit in our hearts constitutes the “proof” that we are God’s children, what does this look like? Paul does not leave us in the lurch. He writes that a heart filled with the Spirit produces the fruit of the Spirit. Accordingly, “the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control.”⁴ Indicating that producing the Spirit’s fruit is what it means to be truly free, he stresses, “Against such there is no law.”⁵

Because of her immaculateness, by a unique and singular grace, Mary is without sin. Hence, she is the model Christian disciple. Twice in the second chapter of Saint Luke’s Gospel- an action-packed chapter in which the Lord’s birth is written about, as well as his Presentation in the Temple, along with the episode we heard last Sunday, in which he went missing from the caravan and Mary and Joseph found him in the Temple- - we read that Mary kept her recollection of these events and reflected on them in her heart.⁶ This is the work of the Spirit, which produced in his fruit in abundance.

We can turn confidently to Mary, our Mother. As the opening words to The Beatles’ song “Let It Be” powerfully remind us:

When I find myself in times of trouble/
Mother Mary comes to me/
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be

Letting things be means trusting God entirely, as did Mary. It means giving everything and everyone, especially yourself, over to God over and over again. The Church, which is also our Mother and Teacher, gives us some wonderful, time-tested and proven ways to do this through the intercession of the Blessed Virgin Mary: the Angelus, the Memorare, and, perhaps most especially, our Blessed Mother’s Most Holy Rosary.

If the word spirituality refers to anything real, it refers to spiritual practices. Of course, generally, we’re spiritual in the sense that we’re human. Spirituality in the intentional means to the end of being more and more united with God, our Father. Traditionally among Christians (and certain others), spiritual practices are known as spiritual disciplines. There are three foundational spiritual disciplines, taught by Christ himself, that must be part of any genuine Christian spirituality: prayer, fasting, and almsgiving.

It is no accident that prayer is the first of the spiritual disciplines, the cornerstone of spirituality. Romano Guardini noted: “One cannot, in the long run, remain a Christian without praying, as one cannot live without breathing.”⁷ Prayer is a discipline because let’s face it, if you only prayed when you felt like it, how often would you really pray? It is important to take time to pray every day.

Traditionally, Catholics pray the Angelus three times a day: morning, noon, and evening. In Catholic areas, Church bells used to ring to remind everyone to stop and pray this lovely prayer. The Memorare can be said any time and is a way to pray throughout your day as well as to pray for other people. You can find these prayers easily online or in any basic book of Catholic prayers.

The Rosary is a form of prayer that can be prayed on the go, like when taking a walk, driving, or in a situation where you have to wait. Always carry a Rosary with you. But the Rosary can also be a meditative and contemplative form of prayer. “The Incarnation,” Fr. Vincent McNabb, who, not incidentally, was a member of the Dominican order, observed more than a century ago,

is the centre of all our spiritual life. One of the means by which it is made so is the Holy Rosary. There is hardly any way of arriving at some realisation of this great mystery equal to that of saying the Rosary. Nothing will impress it so much on your mind as going apart to dwell in thought, a little space each day, in Bethlehem, on Golgotha, on the Mount of the Ascension⁸

We are indebted to Pope St. John Paul II who, twenty years ago this year, noting the lacuna in the mysteries of the Holy Rosary, gave us the Luminous mysteries through which we can meditate on the major events of Jesus’s life.⁹ By praying the Rosary, like our Blessed Mother, you can reflect on Christ in your heart.

And so, in addition to, once again, urging you to pray the Rosary daily during 2022, I also urge you to learn and to pray the Angelus. If three times a day seems too much, consider pausing at Noon, taking a deep, recollecting breath, calling to mind an intention or two, and praying it. Finally, learn the Memorare and use it often to pray for others as well as for yourself. In these ways, through the intercession of our Blessed Mother, Mary, God will send the Holy Spirit into your heart. There, the Spirit will water and fertilize your heart, helping you to produce its fruit.

I’ll end by echoing our first reading with the words of our Responsorial: At the start of this New Year, “May God bless us all in his mercy.”

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1 Galatians 4:4.^↩
2 1 Corinthians 12:3; Galatians 4:6.^↩
3 Galatians 5:13-14.^↩
4 Galatians 5:22-23.^↩
5 Galatians 5:23.^↩
6 Luke 2:19.51^↩
7 Romano Guardini, The Art of Praying: The Principles and Methods of Christian Prayer. Sophia Institute Press: Manchester, 1985, 6.^↩
8 Michael Hennessy, “Fr. Vincent McNabb: A Voice of Contradiction,” Seattle Catholic, 29 April 2005.^↩
9 See Pope John Paul II, Apostolic Letter, The Rosary of the Virgin Mary [Rosarium Virginis Mariae], 16 October 2002.^↩