Pastoral note from a poem

What to say to someone in the face of tragedy and death, like the death of a child, a spouse, a companion, terminal illness, etc? The day I know what to say and I say it easily is the day I quit ministering. It is important to be a non-anxious minister of presence, not a professional running the checklist of the stages of grief.

At a conference last evening, the first of our annual diaconal retreat, we read a Manley Hopkins poem, That Nature is a Heraclitean Fire and of the comfort of the Resurrection:

In a flash, at a trumpet clash,
I am all at once what Christ is, since he was what I am, and
This Jack, joke, poor potsherd, patch, matchood,
immortal diamond,
Is immortal diamond

My only marginal note to this poem is "Shine on You Crazy Diamond- Sid Barret, Pink Floyd." Undoubtedly, Gerard Manley Hopkins and Sid Barret are crazy diamonds- still shining somewhere. If they ever do a Sid Barret bio-pic Alan Arkin can play Sid in his later years.

"Get your philosophy from a bumper sticker"

Maintaining some continuity with last week AND with my previous post, here is Green Day's Warning. I think this song and video, besides injecting some humor into the discussion, sing about and depict, at least to some degree, the alienation about which Fr. López writes.

Writing of alienation, our alienation from ourselves and from the world, brings me to one of the critical things that Karl Marx got right- alienation. If I had a lot of time, this would be interesting to explore, especially referencing his writings published under the title: Economic & Philosophical Manuscripts of 1844, especially the first and second manuscripts. These are the manuscripts Marx wrote while living in Paris. These writings are largely critical, not prescriptive, like the lumbering, pseudo-scientific Das Kapital, which he wrote later while dwelling in London. It was Archbishop Helder Camara who suggested in the 1970s that theologians needed to do for Marx what Aquinas did for Aristotle.

Anyway, alienation is what Fr. López describes in the early part of his article On Restlessness. Of course, as Christians we must reject the most pseudo-scientific construct of all the dreaded material dialectic- Philosophy students reading this are ducking under their desks. Instead, we look to God acting in history, bringing it to fulfillment, admittedly in a very mysterious and often quite invisible and even imperceptible manner.

Alienation: Our absence from ourselves

The current issue of Communio International Catholic Review is dedicated to the subject of restlessness. Hence, the first article is On Restlessness by Fr. Antonio López, F.S.C.B.

"With a work ethic that assumes worldly success as the governing principle of life," writes Fr. López, "and an increased sense of scientific progress claiming significant mastery over the beginning and end of human existence, the Western world has come to cultivate a seemingly positive, though superficial, concept of restlessness" (Communio, Summer 2007, vol. XXXIV, no. 2, 177-8). Indeed, human restlessness, the inability to be content and satisfied, has been a topic of theological and philosophical investigation for centuries, but especially in the twentieth century as existentialism matured. Indeed, one of the driving forces behind Heidegger's project of the recovery of the question of Being was restlessness, known in his writings and translated into English as boredom.

"Work," continues López, "valued almost exclusively for the sake of income, claims all of man's energies. Culturally speaking, it gives man's time and space their form. Man is ever more tantalized by the idea of moving ahead and upwards, keeping the door open to any change of job, city, country, or interest that may be required" (178). Such an openness, while the having allure of being liberating, is really quite disorienting, not mention destructive of communities.

Cutting to the chase, Fr. López observes that all this change, this standing ready in the hope of change, "signals a permanence of youth" (178). We must "keep going, transforming 'old age' into a sort of adolescence that is blind to its mortality. This restless, spasmodic search for an increasingly exciting novelty, however, is an appalling index of man's absence from himself" (178)

One of the most poignant pieces of television I have watched, albeit on DVD, is the final episode of season two, which was the final season, of the original BBC program The Office, in which Tim discusses the meaning of work in people's live. The monologue, while trying to be hopeful, comes off as a rather sad commentary.

Of course, St. Francis is a model of overcoming alienation, as are all the saints in their own ways, which is not a painless endeavor. We must be willing to suffer, even open to suffering. The saints are the concrete examples of how we become who we already are, how we overcome, in Christ, the alienation between ourselves and God, between each other, and between us and the rest of creation.

I could write much more, but others, including Fr. López, have written better. His article only begins with the critique I have touched on above and then moves toward a Christian understanding and synthesis, locating this all too human restlessness in our yearning for the transcendent and pointing us to the One for whom we long, the One who is our heart's desire. It is this encounter that changes and re-directs us. This certainly gives us something to ponder for Friday and serves as a long overdue philosophical/theological refutation of Who Moved My Cheese? An Amazing Way to Deal with Change in Your Work and in Your Life , a book, at least the contents of which, not to mention the subtitle, I loathe.

Memorial of St. Francis of Assisi- A model deacon

St. Francis of Assisi, by Michael D. O'Brien

In a recent issue of Traces magazine, published by Communion and Liberation, Msgr. Lorenzo Albacete wrote about that on which the Holy Father's preached on 17 June 2007 during his Apostolic Visit to Assisi in honor of the 800th anniversary of the conversion of Francesco Bernadone.

In his homily, writes Msgr. Albacete, "the Holy Father spoke of the attraction of St. Francis to so many men and women of all religious convictions (and of none at all). St. Francis is the 'patron' of many causes, such as world peace, the environment, religious tolerance, and assistance to the poor. St. Francis is all of this, said the Pope, because of his love for Christ. This is his 'point of departure' for thought and action. 'It is Christ who is the very principle of the cosmos. Christ is the divine truth, the eternal "Logos," in whom each "dialogue" in time finds finds its ultimate foundation. Francis incarnates deeply this "Christological truth" that is at the root of the human existence, of the cosmos, and of history.' Without the Incarnation, all those noble causes will decay and fail. Fidelity to St. Francis will always keep us in touch with the fact of Christ and overcome any temptation to religious indifference, which has nothing to do with authentic dialogue. Fidelity to Christ is our protection from intolerance and the use of violence. 'There cannot be a true evangelical commitment, nor a true Franciscan spirit, that does not bring together our embrace, respect for others, and dialogue with the certainty that each Christian, starting with the Saint of Assisi, has always motivated in us: announcing Christ as the way, the truth, and life of Man, the only Savior of the world'" (Traces, vol. 9, no. 7, 2007, pg. 51).

"Of all the saints," writes Bp. Mark Santer, formerly Anglican bishop of Birmingham, England, "the one whom most people find most Christlike is St. Francis." His Grace continues that he thinks it significant that Francis "was never ordained a priest." Instead, Francis "was an ordained deacon, a servant, to the end of his life." This quote comes courtesy of the book Deacons and the Church, by Deacon Owen Cummings, Regents' Professor of Theology at Mt Angel Seminary, Oregon. Deacon Cummings picks up the thread at the end of the quote by Bp. Santer by observing that Francis' being a deacon, while historically true, comes from one piece of evidence, "Thomas of Celano's account of Christmas Mass at Greccio in 1223" (Deacons and the Church, pgs. 60-61).

St. Francis of Assisi, pray for us.

Memorial of The Holy Guardian Angels

In homily St. Bernard of Clairvaux, who, I don't mind writing, is not one of my favorite saints, said that the angels who watch over us: "should fill [us] with respect, inspire devotion and instill confidence; respect for the presence of angels, devotion because of their loving service, and confidence because of their protection. And so the angels are here; they are at your side, they are with you, present on your behalf. They are here to protect you and to serve you. But even if it is God who has given them this charge, we must nonetheless be grateful to them for the great love with which they obey and come to help us in our great need. So let us be devoted and grateful to such great protectors; let us return their love and honour them as much as we can and should. Yet all our love and honour must go to him, for it is from him that they receive all that makes them worthy of our love and respect."

It is important to note that the belief that everyone is possessed of a guardian angel has never been defined by the Church. Therefore, it is a not doctrine. However, as St. Jerome, in his commentary on St. Matthew's Gospel, particularly the passage read at Mass today (i.e., Matt. 18,1-10), writes that this belief is "the mind of the Church". He continues, "how great the dignity of the soul, since each one has from his birth an angel commissioned to guard it" (Comm. in Matt., xviii, lib. II).

"We are God’s children," St. Bernard continues, "although it does not seem so, because we are still but small children under guardians and trustees, and for the present little better than slaves.

"Even though we are children and have a long, a very long and dangerous way to go, with such protectors what have we to fear? They who keep us in all our ways cannot be overpowered or led astray, much less lead us astray. They are loyal, prudent, powerful. Why then are we afraid? We have only to follow them, stay close to them, and we shall dwell under the protection of God’s heaven."

As far as the picture, there is Catholic kitsch and then there is Catholic kitsch. This piece of kitsch I love. When our oldest son was born and we were in grad. school we lived in a small four-plex. We received a blue blanket with and a medallion with this picture on it. His bedroom, in addition to his bassinet, had a bed. Sometimes, while he napped, I would lay on the bed and for some reason I looked at this picture a lot. It comforted me in the same way that a book about a dog who sailed the high seas when I was kid, I mean a really little kid, like 5 or 6. I cannot for the life of me remember the title of the book, but it gave me a lot of comfort when I was little because I spent a lot of time alone. Now, whenever I pray to my guardian angel, either along with or apart from our children, I think of this picture and it comforts me. That is my whatever moment for October. I thought I'd get it out of the way early.

Memorial of St. Thérèse of Lisieux, Doctor of the Church

Today is the Memorial of St. Thérèse of Lisieux, the Little Flower, who, along with holy men and women like Sts. Augustine, Thomas Aquinas, the Cappdocian fathers (i.e., Basil, Gregory of Nyssa, Gregory of Nazianus), Hilary of Poitiers, St. Teresa of Avila, etc., is a doctor of the Church. Here is today's challenge: to set aside all of our big thoughts about God and just trust in our loving Father with the child-like trust of the Little Flower and to perform small acts of love, especially for those people that we have to struggle to be kind to.

After all, as we see in today's Gospel, to follow Thérèse's little way is nothing less than to follow the way of the Lord Jesus:

"An argument arose among the disciples
about which of them was the greatest.
Jesus realized the intention of their hearts and took a child
and placed it by his side and said to them,
'Whoever receives this child in my name receives me,
and whoever receives me receives the one who sent me.
For the one who is least among all of you
is the one who is the greatest'" (Luke 9,46-48)

St. Thérèse of Lisieux, Little Flower, pray for us now and always.

Year C, Twenty-sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings: Amos 6,1a-.4-7 Ps 146,8-10; 1 Tim 6,11-16; Lk 16,19-31

As we continue to recite St. Luke’s Gospel in our liturgies each Sunday, our complacency is challenged and we are constantly reminded, or perhaps told, or really hear for the first time, what it means to be a Christian. This week, as with the past several weeks, our first reading is a powerful passage taken from one of the prophets sent to call Israel back to fidelity with God through the Covenant. Like last week, it is with the words of the prophet Amos that we, like the rich of ancient Israel, are called to account.

Last week we heard Amos’ words to the rich of Israel who obtained their wealth through dishonest business practices, by cheating people and denying them the fruits of their hard labor. This week we read about the luxurious lifestyle that such dishonest practices afford these same rich who "trample upon the needy and destroy the poor of the land" (Amos 8,4). It is important to note that not all people who enjoy financial success, not even most, have profited by cheating, or that all wealthy people neglect the common good, but as the wealthiest society on the earth, we are often very unconcerned about anything that does not involve our own prosperity and satisfy our wants. What Amos is getting at is the very human tendency to be concerned only with our own welfare to the neglect of the common good, to define our interests, be they personal, national, or religious, only by what benefits us as individuals, nations, or even as Church. Stated simply, we ask again the petulant question Cain asked God while God sought Abel, who Cain had killed: "Am I my brother’s keeper" (Gen 4,9)? We know, at least from our reading of today’s Gospel, that the answer to this question is a resounding, YES!

So provoked was he by this neglect of the poor and of the greater good that Amos gives a warning to Israel, not one to be realized by God suddenly getting angry and shooting lightening bolts out of the sky in the manner of a pagan deity, à la Zeus or Thor, but a warning to be realized as the natural consequence of neglecting the common good, the demise of Israel, the society on whose existence their prosperity depends.

This brings us to today’s Gospel in which Jesus tells the parable of Lazarus and the rich man. By his telling of this story, Jesus, the ultimate prophet, considerably ups Amos’ ante. It is important to note that the audience for this story is a group of Pharisees, the devout Jews who constantly challenged Jesus and his teaching on the Torah, not a group of politicians. So, this teaching is directed first to Israel and by extension the Church. The story of Lazarus and the rich man is a very dramatic story and one without nuance, ambiguity, or paradox, those elements that normally characterize Jesus’ teaching.

Lazarus, a poor beggar, covered with sores, languished outside the gate of the house of the wealthy man, while that man lived well. The rich man completely ignored Lazarus in his suffering, refusing to even give him scraps from his table, which Lazarus would have gladly eaten. Then Lazarus dies and, in due course, the wealthy man dies. Then the tables are turned and the rich man begs Father Abraham to allow Lazarus to ease his suffering, if only just a bit. Notice that it is not Lazarus who refuses to come to the aid of the rich man, such a refusal would be petty revenge, which has no part in Christian life. It is Abraham who refuses to allow Lazarus to do so. This, my friends, is justice. By refusing mercy and failing to be merciful we ask for justice, God’s justice. This story contains the same warning as that given by Amos to ancient Israel, namely that injustice, the neglect of the common good, one symptom of which is gross economic disparity, leads to the unraveling of society, which unraveling is often brought about by violent means.

Earlier this year marked the fortieth anniversary of Pope Paul VI’s controversial encyclical Populorum Progresso that begins with these words: "The progressive development of peoples is an object of deep interest and concern to the Church. This is particularly true in the case of those peoples who are trying to escape the ravages of hunger, poverty, endemic disease and ignorance" (par. 1). Indeed, the development of peoples, known as the common good, remains of deep interest and concern to the Church, as the second part of Deus Caritas Est, recently reminded us. In Populorum Progresso Paul VI wrote prophetically about the justice of which Amos and Jesus Christ both taught, the very justice of God, about which we have received quite an education these past few months from Luke’s Gospel.

In this letter Pope Paul rhetorically asks how the love of God abides in the person "who has the goods of this world and sees his brother in need and closes his heart to him" (par. 23). "Everyone knows," he continues, "that the Fathers of the Church laid down the duty of the rich toward the poor in no uncertain terms" (par. 23). Indeed, St. Ambrose, speaking to the rich, said: "You are not making a gift of what is yours to the poor man, but you are giving him back what is his. You have been appropriating things that are meant to be for the common use of everyone. The earth belongs to everyone, not to the rich" (De Nabute c. 12, n. 53). It is on this basis that Pope Paul concludes that "No one may appropriate surplus goods solely for his own private use when others lack the bare necessities of life." In short, "the right of private property may never be exercised to the detriment of the common good" (par. 23). When people lack life’s necessities it is not, properly speaking, an act of charity to give her what she needs to live, but an act of justice.

Injustice of various kinds, especially the injustice that deprives people of food, clean water, housing, education, and basic health care is the cause of many societal problems with which are daily confronted beginning in our neighborhoods and going all the way up to the international level. That is why we pray for a more equitable distribution of the earth’s bounty and for an end to the injustices that cause so much alienation and anger, especially among the young, who, realizing that they are unable to fulfill their legitimate dreams and aspirations, turn to radicalism and, in extreme cases, even violence and terrorism.

Nonetheless, our efforts, while rooted in prayer, must not be limited to prayer. Our prayer must strengthen us to live in solidarity with those who suffer injustice in order to make present God’s kingdom in this world. There are many ways to live justly and not only by contributing money to worthy causes, as important as that is. We must seek to act justly in our lives, in our homes, especially as parents. Healthy marriages lead to two parent families, which, in turn, lead to happier, healthier, better adjusted children. We must also act justly at school and at work. We must advocate, as befits citizens of a free and prosperous nation, on behalf those who suffer oppression, repression, and deprivation and whose only to desire is to live with human dignity and to provide a promising future to their children. Dear sisters and brothers, One has been raised from the dead, are we persuaded?