On the Power of Words

This is a portion of my homily, formalized and edited, from this past Sunday. The readings may be found here for your reflection, but and not exclisivly necessary for understanding this portion.

I admit that if you are not Catholic and if you do not attend mass this will be somewhat nonsensical. But I encourage you all, first of all Catholics, to attend mass with a new zeal. And of course for you non-Catholics to become Catholic. Nevertheless, I hope this reflection encourages reflection for you.
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When we pray before the altar of God, it can be an easy temptation to grow weary through repetition. We can repeat the proper response week in and week out during mass. Likewise we hear similar words nearly every week, and so we grow distracted and tired.

But I ask that we look to our own experience to correct our behavior: when we see a loved one, a family member, or a friend we can say “It's good to see you,” or “I've missed you,” or “I love you,” and each time these words produce a similar (if not the same) effect. These words, coming from someone who means it, never fail to hearten us and comfort us. Likewise, when we mean and say these words we too hope that they will do the same for our loved ones.

Yet how could we not trust the sincerity of these words?

Take this, all of you, and eat of it. For this is my body, which will be given up for you.

Take this, all of you, and drink from it. For this is the chalice of my blood. The blood of the new and eternal covenant, which will be poured out for you and for many, for the forgiveness of sins.

Both times he proclaims, “Do this in memory of me.”

We ought to listen to these words anew and see them as coming from the heart of Jesus. He offers his very self to heal us, to reconcile us, and to raise us up to the Father. This is why the priest elevates the Body and Blood—it it not so that our mortal eyes might see it, but that our spirits might offer this perfect sacrifice to the Father.

Every prayer of our mass is an expression of God's love for us. Since God is love, it should not surprise us that the mass is that perfect expression of his love, because in it we receive both His word and His own Self.

Imagine, then, that the Father ever and always says “I love you” through his every action. Do we allow this to affect us as we stand, sit, and kneel before the Lord? Do our words of response express this same love? I hope they do, for God is always waiting and always listening to our response. Let our prayers, our actions, and out hearts speak in one voice at every mass, indeed every moment of it, and in our life.

In this way that which we hear and say will not leave us without having their intended effect.

Fourth of July Homily

[A homily given on the fourth of July. Some of the more "philosophical" elements, as opposed to the pastoral/moral ones, were added after the fact. This is not a verbatim homily, but rather an approximation]


Brothers and sisters,

On this feast day for our nation we are confronted with many troubling things. The Supreme Court's ruling on marriage, the issues of abortion, contraception, and health care (who provides it and how), are among the many things that affect our hearts and minds. Yet we must be careful, because it is all too easy to focus on ideologies and people.

Archbishop Cupich said it well, I think, calling all of us to respect our brothers and sisters and love them, whoever they are. This love and respect must be "real, not rhetorical." He also says that we must proclaim and preach the Gospel, "hold fast to an authentic understanding of marriage which has been written in the human heart, consolidated in history, and confirmed by the Word of God."

Gay marriage and abortion are contrary to Catholic faith and teaching, but proclaiming the Gospel with respect to life and marriage should not allow us to lose sight of the people to whom we preach.

For we know that there are many homosexuals who are abandoned, mistreated, bullied, and shunned for who they are or what they struggle with. Moreover, many homosexuals who are Christian, who seek to live chastely and grow in holiness are rejected both by Christians and this or that gay community.

Similarly, women who seek abortions are often times scared, coerced, abused, or abandoned.

People such as these need the Gospel as much as we do, and we are called to be Christ to them in a real fashion, not rhetorically.

On this Fourth of July, we celebrate the birth of our nation. It is our home, where our father and mothers of ages past came to seek shelter from persecution, to seek a better life, or to raise their families in peace. We know that just as our homes are not perfect, our home is not perfect. In Scripture today, we see that even the descendents of Abraham were far from perfect. Jacob tricked his father Issac into receiving his blessing, depriving his brother Esau from his birthright (cf., Gen 27:1-29). Esau hunted and exiled Jacob, but later, when Jacob (now Israel) returned, his brother reconciled himself to him. Through our many difficulties we too much seek peace and unity.

Thus, though we disagree with what our country calls justice and equality, we must love our country for our sake as well as theirs. Only love brings forth reconciliation, peace, and truth. Truth cannot be purchased in any other way. Nevertheless, we also recognize that there is no justice, faith, or love without God. We have already learned, again and again, that the justice of our nation is not Justice.

Our laws, Constitution, and courts interpret each other. The notion of equality is not dependent upon them but upon their interpretation, which comes and goes with the tide. We Christians must, all the same, strive for love, faith, and justice that is not temporary, but firmly rooted in God. We must do this is a real, and not rhetorical way.

This is done by concerning ourselves with those who are weakest among us, the sick, the elderly, the imprisoned, and the abandoned. The only equality and freedom that lasts is freedom in the love of Christ.

May God bless us all this day, and may we, His children, strive for unity and peace which can only result from a genuine and real love of Him who loved us first.

Pentecost: The Fire of the Spirit

(Note: This was originally a homily given at Pentecost on May 24, 2015. I did not have a script and so the written version is a near-facsimilie, but lacking the timing and effect I went for when speaking publicly).

On this holy feast of Pentecost I would like us to reflect on the Spirit and His work in our lives, namely that there are two ways which we use one: we can use it to mean “alone” and we can use it to mean “together.”

How is it that we’re alone? Paul in Galatians tells us that the works of the flesh rip us apart and isolate us. The works of the flesh are envy, greed, immorality, immodesty, lack of chastity, wrath and anger, rivalry, and hatred (cf., Gal 5:16-19). We see this in our own lives and we’ve all had these feelings. But we must recognize that these acts are acts of power and control where we seek to impose our will on the world and others, taking from the weak, the helpless, and those we consider less than ourselves. These aspects gather all things to ourselves, but isolate us and make us one and alone.

But the Spirit is something better and greater. Humility, patience, gentleness, faithfulness, and love. Each of these acts, paradoxically, ask us to give of ourselves little by little, lifting the other up in charity and peace.

I find no better example of this notion of alone and together than in families. If a spouse, or even indeed a child, is greedy, jealous, domineering, ungrateful, or mean-spirited, it tears a family apart. But if all members of a family are patient, patient with each other’s shortcomings, humble, knowing that they are not perfect or always right, gentle in chiding them to a better life in Christ, and loving—that is, self-sacrificing—than that family will stand firm for generations, in life and in death. We all know of our weaknesses, whether they are sexual, or matters of pride, jealousy, envy, gossip, or laziness. We all share in these weaknesses of the flesh, but through grace we share in the strength of the Holy Spirit.

It is the Spirit that affords us these graces which God pours out so generously upon us. It is the Spirit that allowed the Apostles to speak many languages, so that all peoples and ages might hear one message. That one message is the love of the Father, the victory of Christ Jesus over sin and death—a victory we baptized share in, the presence of the Spirit of truth, and that the Church, the bride of Christ, shares the glorious work of God on earth.

One more image that I think is useful for us is the very bread that we bless and consecrate at the holy altar. The bread that we use is made of many grains, formed into one with water, and then finally baked by fire.

We too, because of the work of the most blessed Trinity, are made into one. We are gathered, all of us varied and different, by the will of the Father. He calls us together and, through the blood of the Son, we are prepared as one. Lastly, the Spirit, who is rightly symbolized as a holy flame, perfects us in love and grace so that we might become holy, that is like God. Thus we, brothers and sisters, are prepared as a bread pleasing to almighty God, but not merely for Him, but for the whole world. The blood and water that poured from Christ’s side on the Cross prepare us for this task, and the Spirit strengthens us along the way.

Like Christ, we are one Body and one Bread, prepared for the world and given up for the sake of the world. For everyone, not only us Catholics, but for all of our brothers and sisters. We are given up for their sins, their weaknesses, and the evil that they do, for we know that we too share in all the same weaknesses and faults. We, nonetheless, rely on the power of the Trinity to make us an acceptable offering for the whole world so that all of us, so many scattered and alone, may be one in Spirit and in truth.

The Mercy of God to Our Enemies

There is little doubt that the majority of us have looked upon the violence of the Middle East with sadness, disgust, or anger. Our brothers are being slaughtered and the poor and oppressed, which includes everyone and not just Christians, suffer doubly from the violence coming from both sides.

The Coptic martyrs who recently died for faith in Christ.

It has been a subject of intense prayer for me. I oscillate between desiring the destruction of our enemies for the sake of our brethren (cf., for example, Ps 18) and between praying for mercy upon our enemies.

I find it simple to see Christ on the cross saying "Forgive them for they know not what they do" (Lk 23:34) and say, "Of course, Christ did that because he's the Lord." Yet the very same prayer we pray every day commands us to "forgive those who have trespassed against us." I asked myself, in my heart, "Do I forgive them?" For indeed we are forgiven in the measure we forgive.

I became troubled that I could not formulate a concrete answer. I prayed as to whether I was so lacking in mercy and trust in God that I could not forgive my enemies who, despite their violence and power, are "like chaff driven by the wind" (Ps 1:4) and "like grass they wither quickly; like green plants they wilt away" (Ps 37:1). Because they all pass away and, from the perspective of history a brief period of time, they will also come to judgment. Violence begets violence, and many men have already come to a violent end. Some have perhaps met their end, regrettably, through torture. In death many had no chance to repent and in their obstinance have gone to meet their Lord and Creator.

We will all die and we will all be judged. Every day, with varying degrees of whole-heartedness (sadly sometimes not so much) I ask for God's mercy. But this Lent, this present moment, we should move outside ourselves and pray for His mercy on all men. This forces us to confront, by necessity the most horrible, unsavory, wicked, and disgusting parts of humanity. When we confront this we also confront ourselves, if we're honest. When we confront this in our hearts can we forgive? Can we intercede for them and pray that they turn from their wickedness? Will we turn from ours?

God, who is beyond eternity and beyond power, is Just, and His justice will endure forever and all men will confront his justice. But, indeed, "the judgment is merciless to one who has not shown mercy; mercy triumphs over judgment" (James 2:13). Throughout Scripture God is teaching us a lesson.

His Son descended into the depths of hell, that is to say the depths of human depravity (living and dead)--to the very bottom--in order to redeem it. By his blood all were redeemed for God, but not all are yet saved. Those of us who are living, Christians too, none are as of yet saved, but by faith in Jesus Christ we are guaranteed salvation. This is not to be understood as a covering, like a sheet of snow, over our depravity. We are told to run the race, endure to the end, and walk in the footsteps of he who is the Way.

Salvation means that, by faith, we believe in Christ crucified and risen. Through this faith and baptism we are joined to his Body. In being joined to his Body we are joined to His sufferings and also share in his consolation (cf., 2 Cor 1:5). As Christians we suffer for the sake of the world. Joined to Christ I would say, more powerfully, that we are sacrificed for the sake of the whole world and all upon it. In order to be sacrificed like Christ we look to his example in sacrifice: ever willing to reconcile everyone to the Father through Him.

The image of Christ, his Body, the Church, and us as well.

I then came to think: if we believe that God should strike our enemies down that would be a regrettable thing. For "If you, LORD, keep account of sins, Lord, who can stand?" (Ps 130:3). Those whom we look down on the most are perhaps more explicitly wicked than us, but we who relish in how wicked others are cover our own wickedness with injustice. All are sinful and all are guilty of contributing to this state of sin which we live in. 

Christ alone is "the light shining in the darkness"(Jn 1:15) and we, by joining ourselves to Christ in faith and truth, reflect that light in the same manner that He "reflects the refulgence of the Father's glory" (cf., Heb 1:3).

We do so by seeking forgiveness. We do so more so by loving others. We do it most perfectly by loving our enemies.

Against those who Call Religious Art Idolatry and Blasphemy

Often times Catholics are called pagans and idol worshipers for depicting Christ, expressing him in religious art, and expressing him in statues. This is true in depicting the saints, angels, and the like.

I find these arguments very strange. The most commonly cited “proof” is from Ex 20:4 and similar passages: “Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth” (KJV).

This is certainly true, especially when considering that the Israelites fashioned for themselves a golden calf and, in various ages, many other idols of Cannanite, Babylonian, and Assyrian gods. In these times God was without image. From Genesis and throughout the Old Testament God is not described as having proportions or form but rather as expansive, immense, and beyond comparison. Images, or more specifically similes and metaphors, were used to describe the power, love, and greatness of God, but no images were fashioned.

At a time when images were routinely fashioned in order to depict one's gods, it makes sense that God would forbid such a practice to move people away from regarding wood, stone, and gold as an actual deity.

Moreover John the Apostle attests that “no one has ever seen God” (1 John 4:12 RSV). So why, then, do Catholics portray Christ as well as God the Father and God the Spirit?

There are logical proofs for such actions and dispositions, but they are logical proofs grounded in Scripture and the reality they portray.

It begins with the reality of Christ himself: that he is the Word and that he is God. This Word is the “image of the invisible God” (Col 1:15) and he “reflects the glory of God and bears the very stamp of his nature” (Heb 1:3). Similarly this all-powerful and glorious Word “became flesh and dwelt among us” (Jn 1:14). Thus God who was in former times had revealed himself in shadows and imperfect things, such as the prophets and the Law, now revealed himself in his perfect Son. The source of light is not seen in darkness, and we are all blind. But Jesus Christ, who gives sight to the blind, is “the light of the world” (Jn 8:12). We not only beheld him with our eyes but, as John said, we have also “looked upon [him] and touched [him] with our hands” (1 John 1:1).

Such art gives an example of an actual Biblical text and, more importantly, the New Testament relates the actual life of Jesus, even if Scripture can not simply be reduced to a historical text.

Jesus was truly God and truly man, something to which Scripture and faith attest. Jesus is in the Father and the Father is in Jesus (cf., Jn 17:21). All who believe in Jesus Christ have come to believe because they have heard about him from those who believe and who were sent out just as Jesus had been (cf. Jn 17:18). Similarly, the power of Jesus is described, just as the power of God had been described as of old, but now the power of God is expressed in image and flesh. This is how John the Baptist could say “Behold, the Lamb of God!” (Jn 1:29) and how Stephen could say “Behold, I see the heavens opened and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God” (Acts 7:56).

Catholics depict Christ because he was seen both in his earthly flesh as well as his heavenly glory, both in Christ crucified and in Christ risen. Paul proclaims and preaches “Christ crucified” (1 Cor 1:23) and John looked upon the power and image of Christ the King in the book of Revelations. Thus not only was God seen but he was described. While, for example, his resplendence in heaven is described in metaphor and prophetic language the person of Christ is described as being who he is: a man who was humbled and humiliated on earth but now rules both heaven and earth in the fullness of power.

Thus, because we proclaim Christ and his life which was real, which was seen and touched, and which revealed the fullness of God and his plans. The Father has truly “made known to us in all wisdom and insight the mystery of his will” (Eph 1:9) through Christ Jesus, and the light Jesus provides is his life as model, truth, and guide.

As such, when Catholics express Christ in stained-glass, in a crucifix, and in various media, it is because we are expressing the truth that Christ, in his very reality and image, reveals God to us. It was once blasphemous to portray God with graven images since no one had ever seen God and God had not yet revealed himself to the nations. Similarly it was contrary to the law to eat certain foods until Christ had made them clean. Yet in these last days God has revealed himself by his only-begotten Son and his Son showed us the way we should go in power and in truth.

The images we fashion of Christ, of the Spirit (as dove and fire), and the Father (similar to the Son) are expressions of the reality of Christ. In the eastern traditions of Catholicism and in among some of our Orthodox brethren only Christ is portrayed as a theological point that the Spirit and Father are both never seen or described, but that the image of Christ is also the image of the other two. I think the iconography of the east also has powerful and rich meanings behind it. Catholics too express the reality of God revealed through their art. Calling it blasphemous and idolatry is not only ignorant but foolish in light of the Gospel.

Christ the All-powerful (Pantokrator)

A Christmas Message

This season of Christmas we recall the powerful words of Scripture, “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us” (Jn 1:14). Christ became man to be with us and to experience life with us. He lived an authentic and real human life with all of its many aspects.

I know during this time of year we often recall our many family members and friends who have died and how, even in this happy time, we miss them. Even I lost an uncle who was very dear to me on December 23rd last year. It is at these times, however, that I ask Christ to be with me. I pray for our faithful departed and families, always asking Christ to be with us as truly as he was a man here on earth.

I began wondering, then, what it means that Jesus experienced life like us in the following way:
Can you imagine how many people came up to tell Jesus about a death in the family, fear because of illness, anxiety because of unemployment, or divisions among their families? Jesus shared a great deal in the pain and hardship of our daily lives with us. Likewise, imagine those who came up to him saying, “I am getting married” and “my wife and I are finally having our first child.” Jesus went to weddings, celebrated at religious events, and spent his time sharing in the many joys of human life.

We can relate to these events that punctuate our lives as well. Jesus through his ministry gives us that divine example. By his words and actions he always expressed the same thing, “I love you” and “Do not be afraid, I am with you.”

This time of year we also remember that Jesus Christ is God Himself. He alone can free us of the chains of sin, misery, regret, and death. Through him everything came into being and he sustains every individual instance in his love. For God is love and his entire being expresses love for creation and, in a special way, for us. Our great God who spoke and created all things became subject to our frail humanity for our sake.

So it is this day that we say, “A king is born to us!” and “God has visited his people!”

He came to us as one of us, and he understands each and every one of us. Yes, he even understands our weaknesses, our regrets, and our sinfulness. He ever and always calls us to himself and calls us to believe in him. For it is in believing in him, putting behind our sins, and following him that he will give us the “power to become children of God” (1:12). Through this power we can endure all hardship and, having run our course in this life, reign forever with him in heaven—a gift he so graciously gave to those who endure with him.

Let us, therefore, follow our great King this Christmastime. His every action has said from the beginning, “I love you and I am with you until the end of time.” Let us, by our lives, say the same.

Private Values and a Public Faith (Part I)

Do Religious Values have any Place in the Public Square?

The general consensus among those of faith and without seem to be “no.” Religion is a personal preference and conviction. Personal convictions, while good for me based on various experiences and reasons, are not grounds for me to impose these convictions and others. I believe in God because (a) I was brought up to believe, (b) it gives me comfort, and (c) it makes me a better person. But someone else may have experienced religion in negative circumstances. Likewise a non-believer may not share feelings and values of religious pronouncements on reproduction, family, and (deeper still) premises that inform public action and (politically-speaking) policy.

A non-Christian, non-religious, non-believer also builds convictions derived from his experiences and holds onto them for various reasons. They too may have been brought up to hold certain values that give them comfort and in turn, according to those values, make them “better.” I use quotes for “better” insofar as anyone, when he lives according to values, wants to live up to those values he considers as good. No one, or more accurately, very few of us ever embody fully the values we hold dear—but the more we live our lives according to these values we consider ourselves “better off,” perhaps because we can decide on things more confidently or can discern and solve problems more efficiently.

None of us can escape our upbringing and no one is ever truly free to choose his own experiences. While we are active agents in our lives we are also passive—things happen to us whether we like it or not. We are just as informed by what we do out of choice and by what we experience with no say in the matter. We as humans, however, have a unique ability to reflect on our experiences. More uniquely, since other animals also have memory and learn from experience, human beings have the capacity to reflect on their values and culture. This is not only consistent with ancient wisdom but also modern science.

Man, by applying his reason to himself, may reject what he has been given in a nearly-complete way. Moreover some may even claim that we are unique among the animals insofar as we know how we came to be and that we are also aware of how we are wired (this imagery is by no means exhaustive). Because we “know” we may also reject our wiring in some ways—the example Dawkins uses is that we “rebel against our genes” when we contracept, i.e., that we actively deny the 'desire' of our genes to be replicated through propagation.

Thus both ancient sources, e.g., philosophy or theology, and modern sciences have agreed throughout the ages that man is unique. He is not unique according to his flesh, since his flesh and composition is not too different from other mammals. Perhaps one might say that his brain as an organ is the most impressive according to its construction and capacity. Man is unique according to his reason—formulated in antiquity as possessing a “rational soul”—because by his reason he can even master himself.

While our knowledge, scientifically-speaking, is still expanding on the subject of human cognition we can see that we form connections, both socially (e.g., mother and child) and intellectually (i.e., neural connections), in a way not dissimilar from other creatures. All but a few can recognize, however, that we are capable of understanding how we work and, by our own efforts, direct ourselves beyond mere instinct. While evolution has brought the structure of our bodies and brains to a certain point we also know that in the realm of human and child-development the manner in which we teach each other affects the way that our brain makes connections. In a manner of speaking we can intentionally affect how our brains are organized. This organization, in turn, affects how we act and interact. One may even argue that how we act makes us more fit. Fitness in the narrow sense is simply propagation. I believe that in a broader sense it involves more than just reproduction—fitness also includes well-being, productivity, and living in concord with fellow human beings. Thus how we regard one another, work with one another, and help each other to be our best is a benefit for both ourselves and for those around us.

These activities are achieved through “values” which is shorthand for those conceptions which influence dispositions, habits, and actions. Man, since he has been able to communicate with his fellow man, has discussed values—what is good and what is best—and likewise handed down those values. Values themselves are tested by time and experience. They are tested by hardships and challenges.

Reason and discussion, it may be said, are what make up the furnace of values. Likewise values are applied by different people and in different circumstances, thus their weaknesses are exposed and strengths refined. How those values are expressed are also important—do our actions actually mirror our values? It is foolishness to think that we automatically embody our values—living in accord with any value takes time, effort, and humility. We must always recognize our weakness. On the other hand when we do not attempt to live out certain values we do not actually express them.

In a manner of speaking values are physical and organic, both in their history and within an individual. Consider the image of a tree: when a tree is planted it needs the right circumstances and ingredients to grow. It may very well grow in weak or sandy soil, grow in competition with other trees, grow to be proud and strong, or simply die. Some trees by virtue of its light source will grow in a different direction. Others may be twisted, broken, and bent because of natural disaster. Nevertheless many of them survive in various conditions and amid various trials. Thus, while the tree may appear different in its external presentation each tree is from the same heritage, source, or family (e.g., an oak or a maple are still themselves despite their outward image).

Values themselves may die or they may die in the individual. They may also take root and flourish. Every generation is both the soil and the planter. We are the ones who, having grown up, decide where to plant and how. Values are, in some ways, of supreme importance for how we interact with one another as well as important insofar as they actually affect our physical makeup on the macro and even micro level.

With these in mind, we will proceed to the next part and talk more directly about values and the people who hold them.

Humility and Martin de Porres

This was a homily preached to my seminary community on November 3rd, 2014. The reading for the day (Phil 2:1-4, Ps 131:1b-3, and Lk 14:12-14) may be seen here. 

Martin de Porres was a lay member of the Dominican Order. (b. 1579 - d. 1639, Lima, Peru)

Humility, as we heard today, is regarding others as more important than ourselves and giving of our wealth and gifts to those who cannot repay us. Humility is expressed by lowliness and generosity.

Martin de Porres, whom we celebrate today, is a model of humility. Born in lowliness as a mulatto he sought to make himself even lower. He preferred to be out of sight and perform menial tasks. He cared for the poor and the sick. He also performed many miracles of healing. His fame spread because of this, much to his dismay.

He was sent by his superior at one time to heal the Archbishop of Mexico who had fallen very ill. Having completed his task, he returned to his friary embarrassed his gift was made public. He then sought to perform the most menial tasks he could think of. A priest asked him, "Would you not be better off in the palace of the Archbishop?"

Martin replied, "Father, I think one moment doing what I'm doing is more important than many days in the palace of the Lord Archbishop."


I believe an appropriate image of humility is a bed of white-hot coals. Whether they are our faults and failings, or our accomplishments and talents, humility immolates them all.

Gold is purified by intense heat which separates the dross from it. We ought to commit all things to the furnace of humility, for it separates the dross of despair and pride and produces in us love--that one virtue that is the fulfillment and crown of all things; it is the one thing that endures, for even faith and hope will pass away.

Jesus Christ is rightly said to love perfectly because He emptied Himself perfectly. Allow this Eucharist, a sign of His humility and the source of ours, to remove all dross from your hearts day by day.

To paraphrase the book of Sirach,

There is no precious gold except by fire,
and there are no acceptable men made except in the furnace of humility (cf., Sir 2:5).

Do We Need a New Language to Speak about Homosexuality?

Note: I apologize for my sporadic posting these past months. Big tests, traveling, and hospital ministry have taken me away from my writing. My hope is to start writing more soon, provided I have something interesting to write about.

I am also experimenting with using this spacing on my articles to make them a bit easier to read. No pictures this time either, sorry :(. I do hope we get some good discussion out of this, though.

Originally posted on Ignitum Today.

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The first is “Always Our Children: A Pastoral Message to Parents of Homosexual Children and Suggestions for Pastoral Ministers” (1997). - See more at: http://www.ignitumtoday.com/2014/08/30/new-language-speaking-homosexuality/#sthash.iIaQ3CTM.dpuf

The first is “Always Our Children: A Pastoral Message to Parents of Homosexual Children and Suggestions for Pastoral Ministers” (1997). - See more at: http://www.ignitumtoday.com/2014/08/30/new-language-speaking-homosexuality/#sthash.iIaQ3CTM.dpuf

The first is “Always Our Children: A Pastoral Message to Parents of Homosexual Children and Suggestions for Pastoral Ministers” (1997). - See more at: http://www.ignitumtoday.com/2014/08/30/new-language-speaking-homosexuality/#sthash.iIaQ3CTM.dpuf

The first is “Always Our Children: A Pastoral Message to Parents of Homosexual Children and Suggestions for Pastoral Ministers” (1997). - See more at: http://www.ignitumtoday.com/2014/08/30/new-language-speaking-homosexuality/#sthash.iIaQ3CTM.dpuf

One of the more popular, misunderstood, and challenging problems Catholics face today is the topic of homosexuality. I think of the many great strides we as a Church and as a culture have taken in speaking about it. In the same way, neither side whether secular or religious, has spoken more clearly on the subject. Catholics, at the very least, have always been very good at making distinctions. The process of making distinctions is not just good philosophy and theology, but it also aids in our practical and charitable responses to what we experience.

When we respond to homosexuality we should know what it is. Moreover, when someone is homosexual it does us little good to categorize that person according to preconceived notions about their sexual activity, sexual purity, or moral state. In fact I've usually seen these reactions as one's own personal, moral blindness than as a useful discussion geared towards understanding something so as to respond to it more effectively.

That being said, I also see among many Catholics and (more understandably, perhaps) secular homosexuals a departure from language such as “disordered.” A great deal of language focuses on “natural” sexual desire. It should be granted that the word “nature” (or “natural”) is not as clear as it first appears, but some have achieved a greater sense of clarity about it.

Part of my worry is that even good, Catholic homosexuals have found the language of “disorder” offensive and disheartening. My worry is not so much their individual feelings about the word, but it does bring forth the valid question as to whether or not our language about homosexuality is unsound, invalid, or ineffective.

This is also not as easy to determine right away. Our language could be unsound it simply isn't true or because we are operating under false premises. It may be invalid simply because what we do know about the human person and human sexuality is not properly expressed (i.e., our conclusions may not be properly derived from our premises). Our language may be ineffective as a result. Effectiveness is not only a matter of truth but also rhetoric. Speaking ineffectively is just as damaging to an argument as it is to be untrue or be lacking logically. This also accepts that, like Jesus, some people simply will not accept what is true—but this should stop us from pausing and considering our own words.

Should we discard the use of the term “disordered,” then? I am inclined to say 'no' for the time being. I say this for a number of reasons, some of which I'll list:

(1) is that scientifically speaking we do not know what causes one to be homosexual or to what degree one is a homosexual. Furthermore, as part of our species, what function or role does homosexuality play?

(2) The notion of “disordered” is often improperly univocated. There can be disordered states of being and there can be disordered acts. An act whose content or purpose is “good,” such as sex, but which is realized improperly is disordered. Thus both homosexuals and heterosexuals can engage in “disordered” sex.

Something that is disordered, however, is both simple and complex. An eye that cannot see is “disordered” insofar as it can not operate according to its purpose. A keyboard whose keys work except the “t,” “h,” and “e” is unable to fulfill its function adequately.

Thus something can be “disordered” either in execution (i.e., how it's carried out) or through inability (i.e., it's incapable of doing what it should).

Catholics hold that the purpose of sex is unitive and procreative. The act of sex is reserved as an expression of marital love. This does not mean that sex must result in procreation. Marital sex must be open to the possibility of procreation lovingly, otherwise that act of sex is disordered. Thus to be truly married and have sex according to the order established by God, the couple must execute the act in an “orderly” way (i.e., they must be married, freely have sex, truly love one another, and be open to (one of) the natural consequences of sex) and both must also be capable of fulfilling these criteria in order to be “ordered properly” in the first place.

(3) We should not be afraid to label ourselves as “disordered,” homosexual or heterosexual. Sin itself is a disruption of “order” insofar as all sin is contrary to God's will. One who is addicted to masturbation acts in a disordered way. One who is prone to spreading rumors and gossip acts in a disordered way. Those of us who do not go to mass on Sunday act in a disordered way. Those who do not forgive others for their transgressions against us act in a disordered way.

Many of us, because of family history, genetics, or circumstance are also born into a state of greater probability for certain sins or vices, whether we want them or not. We are all born into an existence both ordered by grace and disorderly because of sin.

And so...?

My intention is not to “solve” the problem we have since I do not believe we have the full tools to solve it. I have some self-criticisms that I will briefly connect to my points above:

(1) Sifting through today's science (biology, sociology, psychology, etc.) on the subject is at times biased, confusing, and willing to promote certain findings for reasons that aren't always “scientific.” Nevertheless honestly engaging what we are discovering about human sexuality, along with their impulses, are necessary endeavors. Regardless of a lack of scientific clarity those of us who do minister to or interact with homosexuals (etc.) must recognize them as persons created in the imago dei.

(2) My hope is that there is still clarity and a lack of clarity in the term “disordered.” How do we call homosexuality, the state of being, “disordered.” For too long we considered someone who was openly homosexual as one who was by necessity sexually active and predatory to the same sex. This is simply untrue, otherwise we would have to bring the same complaint to heterosexuals.

Homosexuals, by virtue of their homosexuality, are still fully capable of practicing virtues, discerning right from wrong, and making rationally informed choices. Thus their homosexuality is not a disorder to their will and, perhaps one could even say with confidence, their souls.

Their biology is another matter. Their homosexuality does not affect their internal or reproductive organs. In fact we have seen cases of homosexuals who have a desire to reproduce yet, for obvious reasons, can not do so by means of their 'native' sexual inclination.

Sex has the ability to improve (or deteriorate) intimacy and trust, to procreate, and give pleasure. In what ways does our insistence on procreation cloud our understanding of sex. I remain, however, a firm believer in the premise that procreation is one of the biological purposes of sex, to which pleasure and intimacy aid in the realization of a new human life.

(3) Perhaps this is too negative a view of the current state which we live in. Some are more willing than me to speak of the goodness of the world/state/circumstance we live in. On the one hand any of us are capable of loving another and love is the only means to break the cycle of sin, since it is only love (according to Paul) that is eternal. Since we have the capacity to love does this mean we are more ordered than disordered? In many ways there is a greater confusion over the terms “evil” and “sin,” in my view, than terms such as “homosexuality” and marriage.

It would be good for all of us to consider more deeply the difficulties at hand with intentionality and patience. 

(Please consider these documents:

USCCB's Always Our Children (1997) and Ministry to Persons with Homosexual Inclination (2006, PDF)

The first is “Always Our Children: A Pastoral Message to Parents of Homosexual Children and Suggestions for Pastoral Ministers” (1997). - See more at: http://www.ignitumtoday.com/2014/08/30/new-language-speaking-homosexuality/#sthash.iIaQ3CTM.dpuf

The first is “Always Our Children: A Pastoral Message to Parents of Homosexual Children and Suggestions for Pastoral Ministers” (1997). - See more at: http://www.ignitumtoday.com/2014/08/30/new-language-speaking-homosexuality/#sthash.iIaQ3CTM.dpuf

To that end I would suggest two documents by the USCCB for your consideration:
The first is “Always Our Children: A Pastoral Message to Parents of Homosexual Children and Suggestions for Pastoral Ministers” (1997).
The second is “Ministry to Persons with a Homosexual Inclination: Guidelines for Pastoral Care” (PDF, 2006).
- See more at: http://www.ignitumtoday.com/2014/08/30/new-language-speaking-homosexuality/#sthash.iIaQ3CTM.dpuf

To that end I would suggest two documents by the USCCB for your consideration:
The first is “Always Our Children: A Pastoral Message to Parents of Homosexual Children and Suggestions for Pastoral Ministers” (1997).
The second is “Ministry to Persons with a Homosexual Inclination: Guidelines for Pastoral Care” (PDF, 2006).
- See more at: http://www.ignitumtoday.com/2014/08/30/new-language-speaking-homosexuality/#sthash.iIaQ3CTM.dpuf

To that end I would suggest two documents by the USCCB for your consideration:
The first is “Always Our Children: A Pastoral Message to Parents of Homosexual Children and Suggestions for Pastoral Ministers” (1997).
The second is “Ministry to Persons with a Homosexual Inclination: Guidelines for Pastoral Care” (PDF, 2006).
- See more at: http://www.ignitumtoday.com/2014/08/30/new-language-speaking-homosexuality/#sthash.iIaQ3CTM.dpuf

Redemptive Suffering

The fear of suffering, pain, and death seem like unconquerable mysteries. My time here at CPE has helped me to understand, via experience, that they are not necessarily things that need to be conquered. No amount of faith excludes us from experience pain, loneliness, and death. Money, power, and other earthly things makes these three experiences even worse. With this in mind, I began to wonder if the words of Qoheleth were not as negative as they appear: “Vanity of vanities! All is vanity” (Ecc 1:2). Earthly things will pass which also means these things, both good and bad, will pass. Yet this does not ease the blow of the mystery of suffering and death. Even if they pass away they still remain with us our whole lives.

For me, this mystery is one that is only solved by the Cross. The cross is, for me, the foundation of my theology the ministry I do. The cross is the Incarnational moment where love and suffering meet. Love because “God is love” (1 Jn 4:16b) and suffering because the human condition is deeply affected by sin and death (Gen 3:16ff). Christ took upon himself the entirety of our human condition. While this expressed itself in his person I believe it was brought to completion by his sacrifice. It was only in his death that he was able to “reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace through the blood of his cross” (Col 1:20).

How does this inform my theology? First, if Christ chose to take on all of humanity he also took on pain, loneliness, and death in all completeness. He did not run from them but endured them and experienced them to the full. Thus any ministry inspired by Christ must be a ministry willing to encounter and experience all of the human condition. Secondly, did not Christ through His actions reconcile all things to himself? If this is the case he also reconciled what is lowly and base to our human existence. Thus in ministry encountering what is base, disgusting, and disturbing is an opportunity to encounter Christ in the same capacity as that which is lofty, beautiful, and joyful. There is no discrimination in what Christ assumed in our humanity. He became like us in all things but sin (cf. Heb 4:15).¹

As such, in my mind and in my ministry I attempt to approach a Catholic theology of suffering. The primary way is the Catholic view of suffering or, more specifically, redemptive suffering. What do I mean by redemptive suffering? Only this: that our suffering when united to Christ shares in his mission of salvation. How is this so? Christ is married to the Church as his spouse and the “two [have] become one flesh” (Gen 2:24). Moreover “no man hates his own flesh, but nourishes and cherishes it, as Christ does the Church, because we are members of his body” (Eph 5:29-30, cf. Eph 5). We are by virtue of our baptism joined to Christ and the Church. We are joined to the body of Christ such that we are one with him. “This is a great mystery” (Eph 5:32). Yet Scripture proclaims that as Saul persecuted the "disciples of the Way" Christ himself said, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me? … I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting” (Acts 9:4, 5). Lastly, Paul himself says, “I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I complete² what is lacking in Christ's afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the Church” (Col 1:24).

Christ entrusted his disciples with his Spirit to carry out his mission of salvation to the whole world and to all ages. The Church was established as his bride and He himself is the head of the body. We are extensions of his body. We share in the sufferings of those to whom we minister (and we ourselves also suffer). Christ identifies with us, especially with those who suffer (cf. Mt 25:40), should we not also identify with Him in turn? Christ assumed humanity so as to redeem it, thus with confidence I say he also redeemed suffering. The suffering we experience can be joined to Christ who even after the Resurrection complained to Saul that He himself was being persecuted. Christ's suffering continues in His Body, the Church, because we live in a world redeemed but not yet saved.³ We too, in joining our sufferings to Christ, suffer for the sake of His Body (cf. Col 1:24). And indeed “he did this once for all when he offered himself” (Heb 7:27b). Thus we too “must present ourselves as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God” (Rom 12:1). This means that the suffering I experience in myself and others can be effective in Christ's saving work for the one who suffers (and even myself). When I share in the suffering of another I attempt to share in the suffering of both Christ and the individual.

1“For we have not a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sinning.”

2In Greek the verb “antanapleiro” also has the sense of “filling up” or “making full.”

3For while this present age is passing away (1 Cor 7:31) it is still in the process of doing so. We await the “glory to be revealed in us” (Rom 8:18).

++

In a special way keep Grace Oliver, 23, in your prayers as she battles cancer in the face of a very difficult diagnosis. While my words may express a cognative struggle with this issue, my words are shadows compared her words in the face of suffering and death. Please pray for her and please read what she has to write: Grace Oliver and Dumb Cancer

Theology of Suffering

When I was a teenager and with the Boy Scouts (i.e., Venture Scouts) I went to Manatoba, Canada to do a Northern Tier trek, a canoeing expedition. We arrived at a small town with a population of about 90. We got on a little puddle-jumper plane, they flew us over the beautiful landscape, and dropped us off in the middle of a lake. We told them where we planned to be in 10 days and off we went. About two days into the trip we were going along a river with high reeds on either side. We stopped and discussed our path at a fork in the road: take a 2-mile detour by canoe or portage through a wet area. Our guide told us that the portage would be about “a third of a mile” and the water would be “maybe up to your knees.” Needless to say neither of these things were the case. The portage may have been one of the most miserable experiences I've had. Mud, water that was at times up to my hips, hidden branches that tripped me, caught me, and at one point could have cased me to drown. I was at best 150 pounds and was carrying at least 35-40 pounds of equipment plus heavy, wet clothes. Some three hours later, after a lot of cursing and frustration, we made our destination with still a lot of travel left in our day.

This situation captures the feelings I have towards a theology of suffering. Indeed, from a distance things may seem simple and we can reassure ourselves about the probable course of suffering, at least until we get there.  I consider the looming task before me as I begin CPE (Clinical Pastoral Education) where every seminarian spends a summer intensive at a hospital doing hospital chaplaincy. Therein we are spiritual care providers to anyone and everyone. Here we may confront traumatized patients, broken families, and frustrated staff members. Any theology is informed by experience and yet suffering is surprisingly one of our weakest theologies.  While it is true that we all suffer and have experienced the suffering of others it also seems to be the case that we attempt to distract ourselves from the ultimate reality that suffering reveals: death.

It is hard to accept that suffering is natural despite it being perhaps the most natural things of all. Suffering in a very profound way helps us to understand the Cross but it is not enough to speak in moral platitudes or theological maxims. Indeed, Christians receive the whole repertoire of “God will not leave you” or “God is with you.” There is likewise the common and, in my opinion, misguided phrase “offer it up” comes up frequently. However true these sentiments may seem, I have found that in my own experience they alienate rather than alleviate. Certainly some complaints and problems are minor and are annoyances to others—being a complainer myself I know all too well it can wear on people. Yet sometimes minor problems reveal something deeper, namely our struggle with suffering, death, and our perception of what we “deserve” in this life. I call to mind those famous words

My soul is full of troubles … I am reckoned like those who go down to the pit … like the slain that lie in the grave … your wrath lays heavy upon, and you overwhelm me with all your waves. … Every day I call to you, O Lord; I spread out my hands to you. … O Lord why do you cast me off? Why do you hide your face from me? … Your wrath has swept over me; your dread assaults destroy me. They surround me like a flood all day long; they close in upon me together. You have caused loved one and friend to shun me; my only companion is darkness” (cf. Ps 88).

And, moreover, “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?” (Mt 27:46). Indeed this very quote of Jesus is from Psalm 22. While verses 22-31 speak of God's faithfulness, His glory, and how he lifts up the afflicted. Nevertheless we have to get through the first twenty one verses. Suffering can be reduced to something superficial, where minor injuries aren't that important, and where feelings of hopelessness are addressed by telling someone to have hope.

The Incarnation is a theology that includes the Cross. “Incarnation” makes us think of Christ sharing in our humanity, but what has he shared in? In the hospital “incarnation” and “cross” have met: blood, broken bones, hopelessness, fear, pain, defecation, a loss of control, abandonment, betrayal, schism, and waiting in silence. As a chaplain it would seem like we're sent into this circumstance and situation to life people out of this mire but in a strange we we are not asked to lift up but step down into it. In that strange and wonderful way we, by sinking into the depths we also lift to the heights. Why? Because by acknowledging suffering, experiencing it, and by experiencing it with others we do lift each other up. Perhaps this is why the phrase “Duc in altum” (Lk 5:4) can both mean “go into the depths” and “go to the heights.”

No one catches fish without first casting your line to the depth they swim at. We don't experience the Resurrection if we don't experience the Cross. Christ can not redeem all unless he had sunken lower than all.

It would seem strange that in a place of death or, at the very least, a place entrenched in its inescapable realities I might find life. Most of all I'm called to love these people and consider their life, counted by the world as pitiable and worthless, with a sort of divine dignity. May the Son who died for all give us all life, even if we have to walk through the muck first.

Inheritance

Note: This was a homily I gave on the weekend of May 25th, 2014. If you would like to readings for the day that I used you can find them here. While not necessary they are a good aid for what follows.

“Be prepared to give an account of the hope in in you … with gentleness and reverence” (1 Pet 3:15-16a). I've recently been able to visit the school where I grew up and the school from my internship. In going to these classrooms the kids eventually open up to me with various questions. Things from as simple as “Why do you wear all black?” and “Why do you wear a collar?” to questions as deep and penetrating as “Why did Jesus have to die for us?” and “Why did Jesus have to come when he did?” It reminds me all the more, especially as I grow older: “Be prepared to give an account of the hope in you.” Our hope is in Jesus Christ, through whom all things were created. How do we come to know the source and reason for our hope? By keeping his commandments, Jesus says, and in keeping them close to our hearts we will also grow in love of Him.

Still others may ask us, “Why do you believe in Jesus? Why do you waste your time on Sunday? Why don't you choose for yourself what's right and what's wrong?” While not necessarily the case, these questions will come from those who neither believe in Jesus not know Him. Nevertheless these are all questions that we need to answer for ourselves.

Jesus, however, has not left us as orphans. He has given us an Advocate, the Holy Spirit. This is the same Spirit who spoke through the prophets and the holy Apostles, the Spirit who is “the giver of life.” Jesus promises us the same Spirit. How then does He send this Spirit? It is no mistake that in our first reading from the Acts of the Apostles (cf. Acts 8:5-17) those who came to believe in Christ received the Holy Spirit from Peter and John. Phillip brought the word of Christ to Samaria—a land to the north—and those who heard came to believe. Yet they sent for Peter and John who were in Jerusalem, in the south, to visit them. They prayed for the Holy Spirit to visit them and they accomplished this task by the laying on of hands.

While not necessarily the route Peter and John took, it's important to recall the animosity between Samaria and Jerusalem dating back many centuries (at that time) and that the notion of both those of Jewish and Samaritan descent would be united was quite unusual.

What does this teach us? It teaches us that we receive the Spirit through the Church, and not just the church we all are in today, though indeed we receive it here. We receive the Spirit, rather, though the Church of our fathers, the community of believers from ancient times to the present day in union with one another. Phillip, though he was an Apostle himself, sought Peter and John to confirm the faith of the Samarians so that the believers in both the south and the north would be one through the same prayer and the same Spirit.

But perhaps some will ask, “Doesn't our faith alone make us one? Why do we need the Church?” I answer to them that just as we could not exist without our mother our faith could not exist without our mother, the Church. Just as we have received life as a gift we must also give our lives as a gift. In the same way we have received our faith as a gift, given to us through those who believe. Parents might understand this analogy best, but all of us are sons and daughters so I believe we can all relate to this fact: we receive our traits from our parents and as we grow older we resemble the features of our parents. Moreover we also find that, deep down, our children inherit our mannerisms, our attitudes, and our dispositions. If this is true then it is indeed also true that our faith is the same. In living Jesus' commandments we transform ourselves and we inherit His traits, His dispositions, and imitate Him more closely. And when we as adults do this we give this to our children so they might also resemble Christ a little bit more each day. Our hope, then, is that by inheriting these things they may also inherit His very image as sons and daughters of God.

Through all this we discover this truth: faith is not a private possession but a gift that is handed down from generation to generation. The Church aids us in handing down this faith through her sacraments, her prayers, and by her members (us included) who safeguard this precious gift and offer it to everyone.

We will all return to our own lives, our own problems, and our own homes in a very short while. But we are one in Christ's Body, the Church. The Spirit will come to us when we pray as one, united to the whole Body of Christ. Jesus, truly, will not leave us as orphans. He has given us a home this very day.

My Desire for Marriage

(Note: I've made some major revisions to this piece, mostly attempting to add clarity to my message and fixing up some diction. ~M, 3/15/2014)

As I approach ordination to the Diaconate after 12 years in the seminary it's easy to think about the many “what ifs” in my life. Things such as career, money, jobs, a wife, children, and even a permanent home are things I've given up in pursuit of this call. A call, however, is both something desirable and undesirable. When it comes to vocations I call to mind that “when you were young, you fastened your own belt and walked where you would; but when you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and another will fasten your belt for you and carry you where you do not wish to go” (Jn 21:18). Any walk of life requires sacrifice and any vocation, in my view, goes against the grain of our desires.

While the Apostle Matthew was called, “rose and followed him” (Mt 9:9), this is not true of all followers. Calls demand a response, not necessarily a wholehearted desire for the content of that call. Peter himself said, “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord” (Lk 5:8). Isaiah lamented, “Woe is me! For I am lost; for I am a man of unclean lip in the midst of a people of unclean lips” (Is 6:5a). Jeremiah complained, “Ah, Lord God! Behold, I do not know how to speak, for I am only a youth!” (Jer 1:6). All types of people are represented in Scripture. The overwhelming majority are those who aren't too keen to do what God has asked of them—it's not bad to see ourselves in them.

As Matthew's expression illustrates, "How could you choose me?"

The Lord responds to our response. “Do not be afraid” (Lk 5:10). “Whom shall I send?” (Is 6:8). “To all to whom I send you you shall go, and whatever I command you to speak I shall speak” (Jer 1:7). The formula of God's call is uniform: He reassures us and says, “Do I send whom I have not chosen?” (cf., Is 42:1). This is true because “it was not you who chose me, but I who chose you” (Jn 15:16). Then he tells us rather bluntly, “You will do as I command” (cf., Dt 12:32). We must confront the reality that life is not what I want but what God wants in His time and in His way. Prayer sharpens our hearing, but it is time, grace, and the Church that makes us desire His will as if it were our own.

The call is, for some, a process of constant humiliation, disappointment, frustration, and difficulties. Yet, “Await God's patience, cling to him to do not depart, that you may be wise in all your ways. Accept whatever is brought upon you, and endure it in sorrow; in changes that humble you be patient. For gold and silver are tested in the fire, and acceptable men in the furnace of humiliation” (Sir 2:3-5).

I know what awaits me from others moving forward: disrespect, hatred, dismissive attitudes, and many other things. I know that in my own heart there is a fear of timidness, complacency, and apathy. Yet God has cared for me with those who love me. He has cared for my heart by giving me peace, courage, faith, and hope. I've come to find that all things in me are good but not fulfilled. No one can fulfill himself and love is never fulfilled except from outside of myself. This is His gift to me: the love of God and neighbor is my own fulfillment.

Having given up everything to follow Him I approach a new chapter in my life: sacrificing personal desire for the sake of those sheep whom Christ said to feed and shepherd. I will soon experience this call and experience it with the people of God, and there are many trials and many blessings herein.

As I prayed about these things in my heart I called to mind the couples that I will marry. I called to mind that they too are called and respond as all men do to God's call. I thought of my friends with children and the unique opportunity that having children offers in your life, but I also considered the many trials they will experience. In a life that is, by necessity, “focused on the things of this world” (cf. 1 Cor 7:33-34). What hope is there for a married couple and, I thought, what could I say to them to take the concrete experiences of their life and see God?

This, then, is my desire for marriage: that couples reflect on the fact that their relationship truly reflects the Divine Life and to keep this close to their heart throughout their own trials.

Only parents can experience God as a parent. Reflect that God calls us sons and daughters, too. A child comes forth in pain, crying, but it is met with love. The child is needy, depriving sleep from one's eyes and peace from one's mind, yet it is loved because it is life and the “fruit of my body” (cf., Dt 28:4). Throughout his or her life, their suffering is your suffering, their anxieties are your anxieties, and their joy is your joy. When they are sick you heal them. When they are scared they run to you. When they are arrogant they turn from you. When they are bad they anger you. When they are away they sadden you. Through it all these emotions are intensified because of the love with which you first loved them.

Your spouse, the one whom you love, was a co-creator and cooperator in your own love. You share life and you share hardships, even if each one bears it unevenly. Your love changes you and it is completed by being received and then returned. This too is the life of grace. This is a life of faith in as concrete a manner as one can experience it. This is the God of the Old Testament and New in as intimate, reasonable, and accessible way as one can approach it.

Any child becomes a sign of God's covenant with His people. Know that your feelings for your child are merely a fraction of what God feels for you. Yet despite your child's suffering that result from his wickedness, from misfortune, or persecution your love for him remains undaunted. If a mother or father's love can endure evil and even death, how much more does God's love endure through our sins and the sins of of the world!

Jesus promises that “his burden is easy” and his yoke light (Mt 11:30). Life has shown us that it is not easy. “Much labor was created for every man, and a heavy yoke is upon the sons of Adam” (Sir 40:1). Christ said this, however, because not only is this life of imitating God possible, it is peace for the soul. For “when a woman is in labor, she has pain because her hour has come; but when she is delivered of the child, she no longer remembers the anguish, for joy that a child is born into the world” (Jn 16:21). This is love God shows to those who return to Him, love and peace we all have access to.

Life for both of us, ordained or married, is a unique call from the others. It is indeed a life of responsibility unlike any other. This is a gift given to us, even if it doesn't always seem good or desirable. All life is a gift, no matter the type, since we are all pilgrims on one path—may our feet not stray! We have all been called.

His response is simple: Be not afraid, follow me.

Let it happen to me according to your word.

The Problem with the New Evangelization

God bless the effort of the New Evangelization. It encapsulates, I think, what many of us faithful Catholics have desired to see (more) publicly for years. Even in my youth I always wondered how so many faithful Catholics relied on their opinion as opposed to integrating the words of the Church, words I found as very beautiful. This is, of course, a reflection in my adult years on my youth. Here's what it may look like:

"Mom, we learned at school today ..."
She replies, "That's great, honey!"
"What do you think?"
"That's good, I just think a little bit differently."
"Why?"
She then proceeds to explain that her experience or ideas tell her that things are different.

It teaches kids that personal experience trumps teaching--an ironic parenting technique. Kids grow up and learn many good things but then there's the real world. Sex is a reality, contraception is a safe reality, etc., etc. They grow up, they use what they've been taught that's useful and the rest is their best judgment.

"And the beat goes on...."

There's always room for experience in life. Experience teaches us and forms us. Experience, however, and our experiences, are not principles of action. Experience tests the limits of principle. They help us gather data in order to form principles or see patterns at work.

If one says, "In my experience no one ever listens to you if you use the Bible" is an experience stated as if it were a principle. One who says, however, "With Protestants I've found Scripture is effective but with atheists and agnostics reasoning and philosophy are more profitable." This is experience that indicates a certain prudence. Prudence is a virtue and a sort of principle (Always act prudently) and experience helps us see what that looks like.

I. Witness

This digression aside, I am happy Catholics are coming out in droves to defend the Church, to be public with their faith, to yearn for clarity and understanding, to confront evil in society, to desire God through prayer, to (gasp!) read Scripture, and to dedicate their intellects for the search of a truth greater than all of us as opposed to opinions which are less than themselves. This is a good thing. Lord, give success to the work of our hands!

My concern, however, is that we progress like soldiers to a battlefield as opposed to progressing like lemmings toward a cliff.

What do I mean? The word for witness is "martyr." Being a witness to the faith is being a visible sign of Christ's saving love to the world. Witness is public, it's living in such a manner that what you believe is evident from your life. In many cases this is a powerful tool for conversion: one learns in the most concrete way, that is by example, that the faith is livable and it can make you happy (regardless of your state in life). This is evangelization in its simplest form, right? I'm not inclined to think so.

In my view witness attracts and evangelization holds onto. No amount of well-crafted, balanced words will make someone Christian. Only God can produce that sort of effect in our lives and only He can penetrate our stony and prideful hearts. Witnessing to the faith reveals God to the world. It shows those who look on, those who are doubtful, that God is active in the world and personally in our lives. Recall from the Gospel of Mark that Jesus is declared the Son of God by a man only when He dies on the cross.

"Jesus gave a loud cry and breathed his last. The veil of the sanctuary was torn in two from top to bottom. When the centurion who stood facing him saw how he breathed his last he said, “Truly this man was the Son of God!" (Mk 15:37-39)

Truly Jesus Christ was the perfect witness, the perfect martyr. The cross symbolizes many things: sacrifice, love, and rejection. It symbolizes much more. The cross stands as a strange image. It draws people to it, whether by disgust or hatred for it, for sorrow of it, or admiration of it. That's the life we're called to lead: a life that is a witness to the cross. "But may I never boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world" (Gal 6:14).

II. Evangelization 

Evangelization, however is different. Perhaps an image will illustrate what words cannot. Christian life is a fire. Witness is the light of that fire but evangelization is the warmth. We are drawn to a fire by its light yet we are compelled to stay by its warmth.

Evangelization contains with in it catechesis, apologetics, preaching, among other things. Various people have certain gifts given to them by the Spirit: some are able to teach and defend the faith while others are able to effectively convey the Gospel message. The USCCB has defined for us the goal of the New Evangelization:

In a special way, the New Evangelization is focused on 're-proposing' the Gospel to those who have experienced a crisis of faith. ... Pope Benedict XVI called for the re-proposing of the Gospel "to those regions awaiting the first evangelization and to those regions where the roots of Christianity are deep but who have experienced a serious crisis of faith due to secularization."

So many of us label our work, our millions of blog posts, and our efforts as "evangelization." This is simply not the case. There is always room for us to relay an experience of strength-in-crisis given to us graciously by Christ. There is room for us to lament insufficient theology, culture, or some offense, but it is not evangelization.

If we are to truly evangelize this culture we cannot simply propose a perspective or practice apologetics (i.e., defend the faith from attacks). We must proclaim the Gospel, that is proclaim the positive claims and truths of revelation, Scripture, and Tradition. If you want to evangelize you must study these things (studying history, science, philosophy, popular culture, etc. doesn't hurt either).


We would all do well to remember that "the wisdom of what a person says is in direct proportion to his progress in learning the holy scriptures--and I am not speaking of intensive reading or memorization, but real understanding and investigation of their meaning" (Augustine, On Christian Teaching, IV.para 7).

Likewise, "Eloquent speakers give pleasure, wise ones salvation" (Idem.)

Nothing will inflame our hearts quite like the Word. 
Not just in reading and memorizing, but penetrating, praying, and understanding.

Evangelization requires prayer, study, and reflection. It also demands a certain training in rhetorical arts, such as clarity of conveyance, force of images, and knowledge of what will speak to the listener.

So many of us, myself included, feel that we further the cause of evangelization by saying nice words about our experiences of grace and prayer. But this only serves as a light in the darkness. Without a serious commitment to Scripture we give a light without warmth.

The New Evangelization is, as many have pointed out, not new in its message. Rather, the "newness" of it all is perhaps best described as a new 'zeal' for the labor so badly needed.

So those who are attempting to try something new my recommendation would be: look to Scripture, look to prayer, and that beauty which is ever ancient, ever new. Thereafter look to Tradition, the Fathers, and the Church. In all this, being an active member of the Church is all the more important: support your local church, your priest, and make yourself a public witness there for our charge is to not only draw new souls to Christ but strengthen those whose spirit fails within them.

Continue to shine the light of Christ to the world by your witness and do not cover it with anything. But in order that they might say, Were not our hearts burning within us while he spoke to us? (cf. Lk 24:32) it is necessary that we begin with Moses and all the prophets, interpreting them what refers to Him in all the Scriptures (24:27).

We can do this in many ways. How you decide to do so is your task. Do not draw anyone to the light but leave them cold.

Our love will keep others close but those who struggle are not looking for us and we are not anyone's fulfillment. Rather we are like John the Baptist, a voice crying out in a world that denies truth and embraces the self.

  

Rather, the Law of the Lord is their joy (Ps 1:2a) and O God, you are my God--for you I long! For you my body yearns; for you my soul thirsts, like a parched land, lifeless, and without water (Ps 63:2). Give them this. Do not show them that it exists, but say to them as John did, "Behold the Lamb of God" and do it in such a way that those who listen hear what you say and follow Jesus (Jn 1:36-37). Only then will our joy be complete (3:29-30).

The Early Church III-2: Christology in Scripture

 (Note: My sincere apologies for the giant hiatus on the following part. These were written in April and May of 2013. I had intended to heavily revise parts III and IV, only because as an academic I was dissatisfied with the lack of detail and nuance. I reminded myself that these pieces were intended for general audiences, meant to inspire them to discover the richness of the subject on their own. I have made some revisions, but now plan--against my former wishes--to post them as originally written)

Missed part III-1? I don't blame you! See it here. See also parts I here and II there.

I've edited III-1, taking and revising the Christology section and putting it here.

Christology

Christology is the study of Christ, specifically the person of Christ and his role as Messiah. The Church began reflecting on the phenomenon of Jesus—His incarnation, life, ministry, passion, death, resurrection, and ascension—almost immediately. The earliest written records we have of such activity comes from St. Paul.

Paul, who wrote from about 40AD to 65AD, is a powerful indication to the understanding of the faithful as it developed. Much like the office of bishop, priest, and deacon the understanding of Christ developed over time. Why wasn't the understanding of Christ immediate? Christ is both the savior of all as well as a personal savior. Christ came to call sinners, yet each one of us sins differently. He approaches Christ differently, struggles differently, and lives differently. For indeed he "called us out of darkness into his marvelous light" (1 Pet 2:9). Just as the sun rises and its light spreads gradually over the horizon, so too is the life and light of Christ who dawns on each man. But it is not enough that we should simply experience God or even understand Him. Rather, we must also respond to Him. The encounter is important, yes, but so is the journey. In learning and growing with Christ we learn about ourselves in a profound way. This is why there is no immediate understanding of Christ as if one became privy to a secret knowledge. We are not so much called to know as we are called to become pilgrims.

Paul offers to us a window into the Church as a whole and at the same time was himself a master theologian. Scripture will provide the data for our understanding of Christ for the early Christians.

In his letter to the Philippians (written about 49AD) Paul quotes the famous lines, “Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God, something to be grasped. Rather, he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, coming in human likeness … he humbled himself, becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross. ...[So now may] may every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord” (cf. Phil 2:5-11). This quote here is said to be a hymn, and hymns in Scripture are often said to be older than their composition date. We see in this shortened form how aspects of Christ's life are mixed with the significance of His life—e.g., he died on the cross and as a result God “greatly exalted him” (2:9).

The structure of this is believed to be a hymn because (1) the style of composition is not Pauline, and (2) it doesn't read like normal prose and ends with a doxology, typical in sung prayer.

This is significant because we have in our possession a prayer of the early Church. Paul writes to the Philippians after doing some significant travel as well as living the life of a Christian for 15 or so years. Paul came to Philippi on his second missionary journey, which would mean that this prayer was already a part of life in many other churches. Similarly, this prayer was given to the people of that church as an exhortation and edification of a life in Christ. We can be confident in this prayer reflecting how the early Christians viewed Christ.

The letter to the Colossians presents a different angle. Whereas Philippi was a growing Church in need of instruction, Paul's letter to the Colossians is meant to safeguard the faith. Paul approaches Christ from a different angle, namely his divinity. Paul here says “He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. For in him were created all things in heaven and on earth, the visible and invisible … he is before all things … he is the head of the body the church … for in him all fullness was pleased to dwell” (cf. Col 1:15-20).

The first passage I've presented emphasizes Jesus' earthly ministry and its significance. In Colossians Paul mentions these things but goes at length to express Christ's divinity here.

Paul was an example of one so saturated in the love of his Jewish faith that the event of the Messiah, the fulfillment of an ago-old promise, prompted him to consider and evaluate a future after the fulfillment of such a promise. What had Christ revealed about God, the world, man, and salvation the the prophets and patriarchs longed for? No easy task.

These were early 'Christologies' and ones that were made to both help others understand Christ while also protecting those same believers from what was false.

As time progressed more elaborate and precise understandings emerged. For our purposes we shall look at one of the most famous: John's Gospel. His Gospel, a work that “soars like an eagle above the clouds of human infirmity, and gazes upon the light of the unchangeable truth with those keenest and steadiest eyes of the heart” (Augustine, De consensu evangelistarum 1.6.9, courtesy of catholic-resources.org).

It is here that we are introduced to the notion that Jesus is the Word, the Logos. John states clearly that “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came to be through him, and without him nothing came to be. What came to be through him was life … grace and truth came through Jesus Christ” (Jn 1:1-4, 17).

John's words incorporate what came before him but more clearly identify who Jesus is. His whole Gospel is dedicated to that prologue and Benedict XVI himself had said that this is the primary creation account in Scripture. Jesus is the Word, the Greek word being “logos,” which carries—intentionally—a Jewish and Greek understanding. In Greek, logos would signify reason, order, harmony, and completeness in certain contexts. In Scripture and Judaism, a word carried power. In Psalm 29 it states “The voice of the Lord is over the waters” which hearkens back to the moment of creation. It continues “the God of glory thunders … the voice of the Lord is power; the voice of the Lord is splendor” (Ps 29:3-4). In creation God speaks and so it is. The “word” is power and might, and creation does not resist the Word or the master who speaks that word. As such, this was the dual-sense of John when he calls Jesus the Word: reason and power, order and splendor. This is just the surface of John's bottomless wisdom on Christ.