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).

Humility: A small thing? (Advent Reflection)

Note: This was written about a week back and concerns this Sunday's readings (12/23/2012, Link to readings). This is a short reflection I offer you as we come to the close of Advent.

My family is getting to that point where the next generation are having their first and second children. Now when we gather for Christmas, Thanksgiving, and other events they come in, give everyone their obligatory hug, and proceed to pull out every single toy in the basement, play with it for an average of 5 seconds, and move onto something else. Nevertheless we all look on, either smiling at what they do or chasing them so they don't hurt themselves by falling down a flight of stairs. Scripture, in a manner of speaking, doesn't surprise me when it says that small and insignificant-looking things can and will produce a large and pervasive effect.

This can only happen, I suppose, when we come to appreciate something small as God's most powerful tool. Mary's sister Elizabeth certainly seemed to appreciate it. When Mary, a young lady of probably 15 or 16 years of age entered her house and greeted her she felt her own son, John, leap in her womb. Mary's greeting and the reaction of her unborn son prompted her to say “blessed are you among women” and “how is it that the mother of my Lord should come to me?” What Elizabeth knew in faith is not unlike what we know in love from looking at a little child. A relationship with our Savior is obviously different than watching a child play, but both fill us with words inexpressible. All we can do is look on with wonder and gratitude.

Indeed, we hear often among others who speak to the mother of a little child, “What a beautiful child, you're so lucky.” Perhaps it's not so different in tone next to 'blessed are you among women.'

The meeting between Mary and Elizabeth was also a meeting of the unborn Jesus Christ and John the Baptist. In the wombs of two women meeting in private rested the herald of a new age and the King of all ages. In the quiet privacy of a Jewish woman's home was a new era. Elizabeth, recognizing this silent revolution, rejoices. The author of Hebrews captures this feeling: he recounts that “in burnt offerings and sacrifice you did not desire” (cf. Heb 5:5-10) but rather God delighted in those who did his will.

No flashy work can produce the same fruit as a humble submission to God's will. The strange thing is that this very submission makes something even more wonderful then the spectacle a public sacrifice in the temple might have been. Mary is praised with such fantastic words because she believed “that what was spoken to her by the Lord would be fulfilled.” She is not praised because she has worked some magnificent sign, but she is praised because she heard the voice of God, believed it, and acted on it with a simple 'yes.' This simple and private 'yes' changed her whole life, indeed it changed all of our lives.

This humility and trust produces, as it were, a light to the whole world. The feeling is not unlike that child who captures everyone's attention at a family party. Perhaps our own faith should be regarded as a little child—it is small and innocent and, when we look upon it, we regard it with infinite wonder and gratitude, seeking what's best for it because we realize the profound impact it really has on us and those around us.

The Mediation of the Saints: Part 1

(Parts 2 and 3 of this ongoing series are completed, with more on the way! 
Check it out: 

Part 2: God Works Through Us, 
Part 3: Walking Together)

A: Introduction

In this piece I hope to accomplish, step-by-step, an understanding of the saints. In a small part how we should strive to be saintly and in larger part how we should consider those who are called saints in the fullest sense, i.e., those with almighty God in heaven who pray for us and continue, in His friendship, to aid us in many ways. Though I will begin by mentioning mediation I will pick it up in a later part.

I. Who are They?

Christ indeed is “the one mediator between God and the human race” (1 Tim 2:5) but does this mean that God the Father will only listen to Christ? Does not the Lord “have eyes for the just and ears for their cry”? (Ps 34:16). Further still Christ tells us to “ask and it will be given to you” (Mt 7:7). The letter to James further qualifies this when he says “You do not possess because you do not ask. You ask but do not receive, because you ask wrongly, to spend it on your passions” (James 4:2b-3).

What should we ask for and how do we ask rightly? The letter of James further tells us that in order to do this we must be “doers of the word and not hearers only” (1:22). We learn through many venues but the most powerful teachers of faith and love are the saints.

The saints are, in short, exemplary doers of the word. They stand as a model for us in courage, patience, and wise-counsel among other virtues. We are drawn to a truly holy person because it seems like that ‘have it together.’ They exemplify—it’s almost an aura—a love of God and a love of neighbor. This power and aura are displayed by the Apostles themselves. Look at see the circumstances of these examples:

+Phillip runs up to the Ethiopian eunuch reading Isaiah and says ‘Do you understand what you read?’ The man replies, ‘How can I, unless someone instructs me?’ Phillip, filled with the Holy Spirit, instructed him. The eunuch, himself moved by that same Spirit, sought to be baptized immediately. Phillip became a light to a man searching for Christ. (cf. Acts 8:26-40)

Philip instructing the Ethiopian eunuch, pointing to Scripture and pointing to God. His bodily presence and actions making it possible for this man to see both.

+Paul and Barnabas preached at Lystra and healed a crippled man. Their presence and power of spirit and speech drew a large crowd to them. The Greeks there took them to be the gods Zeus and Hermes and began to worship them. But Paul was distraught, saying to them ‘We are flesh and blood just as you are. We have done these works so you might turn from idols and false gods and turn to the living God.’ (cf Acts 14:8-20)

Paul and Barnabas (right) pleading that the Greeks stop worshiping them after healing a crippled man. Men are drawn to great power mixed with great humility, but here too Paul reminds them that they are flesh just as they are.

The Apostles, men moved by the Spirit, proclaimed God to their fellow men. But some men, those confused or unable to see God themselves, found Him through His servants. The living saints do this just as the Apostles did. Some do it through humble service and others through great and powerful works. Saints pray and then go forth having an impact on those around them.

Moving, then, to the blessed Virgin Mary and the saints of past ages, they intercede to Christ for us, asking Him more perfectly than we ever could what we need (this does not deny the Spirit does this for us too). This is because they live with God and have achieved oneness with Him after life here on this earth. For Christ Himself prayed that just as He and the Father were one that “they may also be in us, that the world may believe that you sent me” (Jn 17:21).

When we ask a saint living here on earth or in heaven to pray for us it is not an affront to Christ or the Spirit, rather it is an act of humility. It is an act of humility because we ask the very proper question “Lord, teach us how to pray just as John taught his disciples” (Lk 11:1). John the Baptist, one of the chief saints and prophets, taught his disciples to pray and how to live. A saint, in John’s image, lived these words perfectly: “He must increase, I must decrease” (Jn 3:30).

Thus, asking the saints for intercession is not ignorance of the power or mediation of Christ. The presence of the saints influenced many to virtue and faith. This is why Paul longs to be with the Corinthians in person and to “fill the deficiencies of your faith” (1 Thes 3:10).

In life the Apostles tirelessly labored for the sake of the faithful and even died for it. Their lives and examples alone filled the deficiencies of the faithful. Their faith and the faith of any saint, however, was not a source of pride. Rather they always pointed to Christ.

Peter, saying he would be unworthy to die as Christ did, was crucified upside down. The Cross itself points to heaven.

In the next section, I will discuss in what manner they pointed to Christ and how a saint effects the work of salvation in the world. I shall begin by looking at the Old Testament and then the New to show that this process is nothing new in the long history of faith. Having introduced saintly intercession it is good to see how the holy prophets interceded to God for the people of Israel. Thereafter I will elaborate on the communion of saints in heaven who work tirelessly on our behalf.

Conversion (poem)

I made this little poem back in February. I don't write poetry often--maybe every 4 months. Sometimes I just do it to get my mind off of essay-style writing, other times just because an idea came to mind. I'm by no means an expert at it but sometimes a topic is better explained in this format than a long drawn out essay.

I find that poetry (whether writing poetically or poems proper) is a clearer window into the thinker himself. The images one uses and the subject matter, which is condensed and focused, helps this.

This particular topic is about 'conversion' in our hearts. I also wrote it in conjunction with thinking about many protestants who use the Bible as sola scriptura. Not all do so meanly, if you follow me, but all do so wrongly.

Some questions/statements to consider as you read:

If you've even been through a severe lightning story, where the ground shakes and trees are split in half, then I think you'll agree it's a sometimes scary thing. But how much scarier is when our world seems to crumble apart by a mere word or phrase (say from Scripture, or a wise priest, family member, or friend)?

This isn't perfect, and I struggled to make this complete, so I hope the follow themes get across:

1) Conversion is unsettling, but it doesn't mean we're destroyed

2) Life is a process of conversion

3) To simply disregard the reason, logic, and wisdom of others who disagree with you (and your interpretations of Scripture) as mere "human wisdom" is your own hardness of heart, I think.

_____

Lord, it is truly a terrible sound
when lightning strikes and shakes the ground.
Yet is there a thunderbolt more bold,
more powerful, or more sublime
than one that strikes the human heart?

The secret citadels of our pride
constructed by our prejudice and habits
are toppled by a mere word and a gentle breeze.

The call to conversion is not a slow revolution
but a bolt that throws us into confusion.
We may spill a million words forth
but a wise word is an ocean's worth.
The mandala that is given loving form
is wiped away with none forlorn.
But if the heart's conviction carefully constructed
is wiped away—better death than destructed!

Even stones of faith and Scripture,
strong, sturdy, and hard to fissure
can be arranged with wrathful anger—
truth and wisdom become a stranger
and avoid us with unmatched prudence.

But Lord, how too often we subscribe
to passivity or emotion and let them bribe
our sensibilities—it is the truth of which we're deprived.

How might we change these stony hearts for hearts anew?
Love of others and love of You.

Yet Lord, how quickly your wisdom we disregard,
how soon our hearts become hard!

All who say "only God's Word!"
and bear the Scriptures like a sword
will not consider (true) human wisdom
with love or consideration
but only with derision.
Such was the lot of priest and prophet
who challenged the hearts of many:
ridiculed or exiled or executed
by those who claimed to know God's way.

To love one another is to love God;
love is not mere tolerance
but the starting point of truth's conveyance.

To hate just exhortations
is hatred resting in the soul
for 'he who does not listen to wise council,
that man is a fool.'

Thank you for reading,

M

P.S.

Comments appreciated! And new pieces coming soon!

On Forgiveness

After I went to Confession this morning I began to consider forgiveness. As I did, I returned again and again to myself—but I don't mean egotistically. I reflected on the moment when we sin, especially when it's that embarrassing, stupid, and every-time sin. And after we fall into that same sin (time and time again) we tend to get upset with ourselves, feel ashamed, and many other things. For the one who has faith, however, he looks to Christ to forgive him. This in itself is not bad at all.

I then began to wonder: We reach out to be forgiven and we entreat God with sighs and tears. But the truest fruit of that forgiveness (and mercy) is a conversion, a change of heart. But I think that in order for a conversion of heart to occur we also have to allow ourselves to be forgiven as well. If there is a gift that someone gives it must also be received. And how do we receive a gift? With gratitude, of course.

The gift of forgiveness, however, is no mere gift. It is one of the greatest gifts.

We should consider how the Lord sees us when He forgives us: he is like the bridegroom who rejoices in his bride (e.g., Ez 16:6-14, 59-60; Is 54: 5-8). He is the father who lovingly embraces his son (Lk 15:20-23). He is the shepherd who sacrifices himself for his sheep.

But let's reverse the image. How ought the bride, the son, and the sheep feel about themselves?

My friends, it is hard to forgive others at times, even when they're truly sorry. How much harder is it to forgive ourselves!

What I mean is this: we know God loves us and is ready to forgive. We (laymen), sadly, lack the ability to readily forgive sins in our ministry. We can, however, love and forgive others. But how can we really practice this if we're not prepared to love ourselves—to love ourselves as we are loved? There are those who say that there is nothing good in man, but what they are saying is that man is not worth loving. Man is, by his nature, good—our bodies themselves are temples for the Holy Spirit! See that “God formed man to be imperishable—the image of his own nature he made him” (Wis 2:23).

Christ Himself prayed for us even as he trembled at the prospect of death.

In this way if we are to fully receive forgiveness we must learn to love ourselves as God loves us. (Note that I do not say “truly” which would mean “we won't be forgiven unless we love like this.” We need to learn to love in this manner which is why I say “fully”).

God loves us, so he chastises us. We must also chastise ourselves.

God has mercy so we must be merciful with ourselves.

For remember that “you [God] taught your people … that those who are just must be kind” (Wis 12:19). Even kind to ourselves.

As such, the full reception of forgiveness is the reestablishment of a lost or damaged relationship. Something wounded or broke that relationship and love, mercy, and forgiveness want that relationship to be fixed. Yet, at the same time, though we can really want someone to reconcile with us only that person (who betrayed our trust/love/confidence) can complete that reconciliation.

You can see the difference that takes place after someone is forgiven: it is just as when the crippled man walked, the blind man saw, and the mute man spoke. There is a real change. I'm not saying that every time we forgive someone the mountains should shake, but if the person receives your forgiveness and is affected by a your constant love there should be a change in the person. This is what brings that forgiveness to completion—but note that this can be immediate or gradual.

Some journeys and climbs are difficult, but with patience and time we reach the end. So too with our souls and our bad habits--we have to attack them slowly and with patience. Be prepared for a climb.

But how can we tell a change has taken place in someone else (for the better)? How do we discern this?

The answer may rest within us. With some introspection and self-reflection we can discern a few things:

If we desire forgiveness, do we accept it and love ourselves? If not, do we dwell on our shame or end up hating ourselves? Self-hatred in this case is a form of self-absorption. We care more for our opinion of ourselves than the love of He who gives it freely.

We can end up in this state but do not remain in it.

When one loves us they want what is best for us. When we love ourselves with a holy love we want what is best for us too. Those who dwell on their sins are a slave to that sin. The one who hates himself is a slave to himself. As such, do you change yourself in a visible way so as to get better? If your weakness is pornography do you remove yourself from the situations that lead you to view it? If your weakness is gossip do you avoid situations where you can hear it? Do you make an effort to remove yourself from the environments that lead you to sin with the appropriate caution and care necessary for it? Or do you lament the sin and, in effect, change very little except the bitterness with which you hate the sin or yourself? Conversion occurs in little steps and, over time, you will see change. Change for the better is a sign of self-love and conversion.

Consider the parable of the Prodigal Son: The father loves his son with love inexpressible and worries for him with an anxiety that's unbearable. This alone does not make the relationship whole, but the ground is fertile. It is not until the son returns that the story is resolved. He expects only to serve the father—he knows the weight of his guilt. But the father raises him up and rejoices. He embraces him and prepares a feast. The son is transformed by his desire to be forgiven. First he just desires to be under the father, but when his father declares a feast for him he accepts it, not with pomp or haughtiness, but with silent gratitude.

Consider the story, consider still the response of the son.

This reconciliation should be considered as a model for us with respect to others and with special regard to the Church. Some are removed from the Church, but as the Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC) says, “There is no offense, however serious, that the Church cannot forgive. "There is no one, however wicked and guilty, who may not confidently hope for forgiveness, provided his repentance is honest. Christ who died for all men desires that in his Church the gates of forgiveness should always be open to anyone who turns away from sin”(982).

And so if we love ourselves we will be changed. When we're loved by others and accept it more fully we will be transformed. How much more will we be transformed when we learn to love ourselves, allow ourselves to be loved by others, and allow ourselves to be loved by God? Love effects a change in us, but only when we also realize that it will make us vulnerable and humble.

Remember, then, that we cannot be grateful for a gift we don't accept.

Peter denied Christ three times. But three times Christ asked him “Do you love me?” With each “I love you” came a command—when we respond to God's love he desires both action and conversion. He said to Peter “Feed my lambs … [and] follow me.”

And so, shall we truly say “forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us”?

Do we truly believe that we should love God with our whole heart, mind, being and soul and “love your neighbor as yourself”?


***

As a side note, I'll be in Guatemala in less than 18 hours. Please comment and I hope to put up a lot of nice pictures while I'm there. Reflections too!

M

(Edit 8/9/2012: cleaned up some diction)

Wisdom is a Gift

I've gotten into some pretty rough conversations over the past week. What often happens is that I'll receive comments from people who like my articles. They'll say things like "this is nice" or 'well put' and so on. I agree and disagree with my personal friends on a number of things and we still have many-houred conversations which remain amiable—so don't be afraid to talk with me or disagree with me. It's actually much more pleasant to speak with others on topics where we act as friends as opposed to rivals.

Now, I won't complain about these others who disagree with me. That's the acquired taste of the philosopher, namely being told you're wrong. In another sense, that's the acquired joy of a Catholic and all Christians. Scripture seems to indicate this as well:

"The man of intelligence fixes his gaze on wisdom, but the eyes of a fool are on the ends of the earth" (Prv 17:24).

Now to the average ignorant Christian or the average ignorant non-Christian this may seem like a 'pay attention to God and those who don't are just fools.'

Only a foolish fool foolishly fools himself into thinking he understands Scripture by reading it once. (And seeing as I love the Phoenix Wright universe be prepared to see more of these from time to time)

Well, in one sense, maybe it is so. Don't be a fool, then, and follow with me here: perhaps we need to see that wisdom is a gift. In Scriptures it is not often the powerful or the strong who are wise, rather it is the poor and the humble. So how could the simple-minded be wise and thus 'intelligent'?

Simply this: that the wise realize that wisdom is a gift, which is to say that we're given wisdom. Aquinas likened wisdom to a hill upon which a man can see all that happens below. I might add that wisdom is thanking God for the gift of hills that afford us such a sight--if you're still following me.

So what are the ends of the earth that make us fools sometimes? I find that Chesterton put it well: “There is nothing which is so weak for working purposes as this enormous importance attached to immediate victory. There is nothing that fails like success” (GK Chesterton, Heretics). It may also be said that “lust indulged starves the soul, but fools hate to turn from evil” (Prv 13:19) means that when we desire something very temporary and hollow (such as a victory) we starve our souls and do not feed it with what is a most beautiful nourishment—reason. Yet we, like fools, when confronted or attacked feel that crushing our opponent will result in some sort of nourishment, but it's hardly the case.

Technically this meme is still popular but past its peak, so I'm still behind the times.

Perhaps this is why Augustine said “hate the sin but not the sinner.” In many ways we must conquer ignorance, ignorance to sin, and sin for they are 'lackings' as it were in an otherwise good person.

Now, does this mean that we should shrink from the truth when we've found it? Or even run from difficulty when confronted? No, the former becomes timidity and the latter cowardice. Conviction is not arrogance, but they are cousins. I recall reading in Étienne Gilson saying, though I can't find where exactly, that 'When we are confronted with the truth we are also confronted with a moral problem, that is whether or not I will accept and incorporate this truth.' Naturally, a great number of us don't agree on what 'truth is' and thus we hand the reins to the men who are philosophers--who are seemingly madmen.The problem sometimes is that many people think they're philosophers.

I have to laugh, though, when I'm confronted by those who say things like “Ah yes.... I would like to spar with you if I might.” Or “Let us see if Christianity is true” when their intentions are at times an attempt to strip credibility from anyone who could possible believe in Catholicism or Christianity. (We can see this in the recent conversion of Leah Libresco (http://www.patheos.com/blogs/unequallyyoked/, see comments).

But I do not fault them for doing this because this is how I am many times and certainly how I was when I was younger. I can attest first-hand the great power that perfectionism held over me and the years upon years it burrowed under my skin. I didn't have any major breakdowns, but I was prone to stress because I was also someone who wanted to do 25 different things—but perfectly. When you lust after perfection in whatever it is you want you're often left the fool. Luckily, and by His grace, people came into my life and were more patient with me than I ever could have been (we find that our weaknesses can be grounds for us to be both broken down, but rebuilt as compassionate to these same weaknesses we find in others).

Similarly, I do not fault them because often times these are well-meaning, well-educated individuals worth talking with and taking seriously. It forces me to stretch my intellectual muscles and consider propositions that aren't  necessarily problems (or hang-ups) for me but are for others. Not only is this attitude necessary for apologetics, it's necessary for Christians. Or did Christ not feel the full weight, death, and terror of suffering, sin, and death because he loved us? So too, we should take on the apprehensions, anxieties, and difficulties of our fair interlocutors out of love for them.

Aquinas contemplating the greatest gift and receiving the greatest wisdom, that is the say the Logos.

That's what I try to do. Sadly I can't say I always succeed, but young men like myself are moved by passion when attacked. Passion is in no way bad but it's a tool that must be used properly.

We all perhaps need to reflect on the matter that philosophy is properly called a love of wisdom because wisdom is something worth loving and not always something we really deserve, but get anyway.

Truly wisdom literature is a gift that keeps giving. I let this last quote be my prayer and my conclusion:

Wisdom 8:17-21

Thinking thus within myself, and reflecting in my heart That there is immortality in kinship with Wisdom, and good pleasure in her friendship, and unfailing riches in the works of her hands, And that in frequenting her society there is prudence, and fair renown in sharing her discourses, I went about seeking to take her for my own. Now, I was a well-favored child, and I came by a noble nature; or rather, being noble, I attained an unsullied body. And knowing that I could not otherwise possess her except God gave it-- and this, too, was prudence, to know whose is the gift-- I went to the LORD and besought him ...