The Vatican’s decision to speed Pope John Paul II on the road to sainthood is a matter of great elation for some and of dismay for others who see the rush as unseemly, a mere six years after his death. Mother Teresa's beatification in 2003 also came six years after her death. I suppose the rapid pace of life and communication in our modern world makes the gathering of evidence for these things much easier and faster to achieve than it did in earlier times. Besides, there is one undisputed miracle attributed to John Paul II.
It would be a shot in the arm to see the Vatican send the right message about the church’s attitude toward the modern world. It’s time to declare Pope John XXIII a saint. I would like to see Benedict use this Sunday’s beatification to announce that the Vatican is eager to complete the saint-making process for good Pope John, the Church’s great modernizer who embraced democracy and religious freedom.
There is a natural link between the two papacies. When historians look back, John Paul’s greatest achievements will inevitably be seen as liberal, in the broadest sense: his commitment to human rights and religious liberty, his calls for greater social justice, his embrace of workers’ rights (“the priority of labor over capital”), and his strenuous opposition to religious prejudice. Recall that John Paul was the first pope — not counting St. Peter — to visit a synagogue, where he issued a ringing condemnation of anti-Semitism.
None of these achievements would have been possible if Pope John had not ended Catholicism’s war with modernity by calling the Second Vatican Council in the early 1960s. John called upon Catholics to discern the “signs of the times” and upbraided “distrustful souls” who saw in the modern era “only darkness burdening the face of the earth.” “I want to throw open the windows of the Church so that we can see out and the people can see in” are words that are widely attributed to John. It’s a lovely idea still. Father Joseph Komonchak, one of the premier historians of the Second Vatican Council, likes to point to John’s view that “the Church is not a museum of antiques but a living garden of life.”
John is already beatified, the prelude to sainthood in the Catholic tradition. But his beatification in 2000 was marred when John Paul tied it to the beatification of Pope Pius IX, one of the modern era’s most reactionary popes. Pius famously referred to liberal Catholicism as “pernicious,” “perfidious,” “perverse” and “a virus.”
John’s approach was the antithesis of Pius IX’s.
When John died in 1963, progressive cardinals tried to expedite his beatification by way of confirming the church’s new direction, but the age-old rules for starting the process were still in place and Paul VI was reluctant to change them. John Paul II changed the rules, enabling the Vatican to start the process immediately after Mother Teresa's death - and his own!
John Paul's beatification celebration this Sunday has been tarnished by legitimate controversy over his unwavering support for the Mexican priest who founded the conservative Legionaries of Christ movement and was eventually condemned by Benedict for, among other things, abusing members of his order and fathering children out of wedlock with at least two women. John Paul protected this man despite all the evidence that was available to him. John Paul’s vigor in condemning dissenting theologians suggested the paradoxical personality of his papacy: more liberal on many questions involving the outside world, more conservative on internal matters.
Some people feel that the Vatican should have taken more time before announcing his beatification. Nonetheless, even the most progressive Catholics have felt the draw of John Paul as a dynamic and genuinely holy man. In my eyes, anyone who visits the prison cell of his would-be assassin and forgives the man is a saint. Yet John Paul’s most widely admired acts built on John’s legacy. It’s hard to imagine St. Augustine without St. Paul, Washington without Jefferson, John Paul without John XXIII. A church that needs to open windows again would do well to honor the pope who freed it to be refreshed by modernity’s bracing breezes.
PASTOR EMERITUS
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
SHALOM
This past weekend I reaped one of the blessings of retirement: being able to sit back and slowly sip the spirituality of Holy Week and Easter - Thursday night, Friday and Saturday night - rolled into one celebration. All kinds of people show up in church for Easter; family members home from far away, faithful Easter and Christmas neighbors, kids home from college.... As Irish writer James Joyce famously described the Catholic Church, 'Here comes everybody.' We come to sing the hymn of life in all its manifestations, from God's life-giving glory sensed in the teeming life of sky and ocean, flower and forest, and above all in the lives of human beings made in the divine image and likeness and destined to live forever.
Looking out at all the people in the pews and the priests sitting in the sanctuary during that special time, I recalled those last words of Dutch artist Vincent Van Gogh, 'You may have a blazing fire in your soul, but you need someone to come and sit with it.' My mind went back through all the parishes in which I have served, the priests with whom I've lived and ministered, the many people I am privileged to call my friends, and I thanked God for so many with whom I can sit and savor this part of my life.
Though I am trying slow down in retirement, these words from Augustine, one of my favorite saints and thinkers, challenge me: 'People travel to wonder at the height of the mountains, at the long course of rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motion of the stars - and yet they pass by themselves without wondering.' I am not yet doing a good job at wondering as I pass myself by! I try daily to make Augustine's prayer my own, 'O God, grant that I may know myself, and know you.' It isn't easy to break through the crust, which seems to hide the answer I seek.
Doubting Thomas in this Sunday's Gospel is one of my heroes! Had cataracts of crust grown over the eyes of his faith? He was somewhere else when Jesus first appeared to the disciples. Now he is there, physically present, but absent in spirit, in belief. I was alive to the reality of Christ's passion, death and resurrection last weekend. The memory of that day and its associations is rapidly disappearing! How to retrieve it....?
'Peace be with you. Peace be with you,' were the first words from Jesus when he came back from the dead. In Hebrew he would have said, 'Shalom. Shalom.' Shalom does not mean simply the absence of war and violence. It means the restoration of all things the way they are supposed to be, the reintegration of relationships and situations so that they all work for the good. When you bring a watch that's broken to a watchmaker for repair, he brings 'shalom' to the watch. Shalom comes to someone who's very ill and they're restored to full health. Or in a situation of great injustice, when people finally see the light and work with one another to correct those injustices and live in peace, 'shalom' happens.
Jesus is saying 'Shalom' to his disciples, who are very much afraid and disheartened for letting down their master, teacher and friend. He is telling them not to worry, that he wants to restore the relationship of friendship and love with them. They don't have to say a word. He says it first - Shalom! In this troubled day and age, I think it's important to hold on to that concept, because we see sin operative in the world. Sin manifests itself in disunity, in broken relationships and fighting. We read in the newspaper or see on TV every single day stories about people who injure or kill one another, stories that families or friends or communities that are in conflict with one another. Unfortunately, it gets played out at national and international levels and we wonder if war will ever end! The great hope of Easter is the 'Shalom' greeting today or, in Matthew's resurrection story at the Easter Vigil, 'Do not be afraid.'
Reunion with family and friends over Easter is itself a sign and symbol of who and what we were created to be. In relationship. There's a longing in our hearts, tugging at our hearts. God is calling us to long for the message of Jesus, to hope for a better world and a better life for ourselves and for other people. And then, at the Eucharist, because of the word of Jesus, because of the community, because of, most of all, the consecrated bread and wine, we recognize Jesus in the breaking of the bread. And then we get sent to tell the world what God wants for it. Easter -with all its reunion of family and friends, its special faith experience of church - is the great sign of what's deepest and richest and best in human life. Shalom! Alleluia.
PASTOR EMERITUS
Looking out at all the people in the pews and the priests sitting in the sanctuary during that special time, I recalled those last words of Dutch artist Vincent Van Gogh, 'You may have a blazing fire in your soul, but you need someone to come and sit with it.' My mind went back through all the parishes in which I have served, the priests with whom I've lived and ministered, the many people I am privileged to call my friends, and I thanked God for so many with whom I can sit and savor this part of my life.
Though I am trying slow down in retirement, these words from Augustine, one of my favorite saints and thinkers, challenge me: 'People travel to wonder at the height of the mountains, at the long course of rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motion of the stars - and yet they pass by themselves without wondering.' I am not yet doing a good job at wondering as I pass myself by! I try daily to make Augustine's prayer my own, 'O God, grant that I may know myself, and know you.' It isn't easy to break through the crust, which seems to hide the answer I seek.
Doubting Thomas in this Sunday's Gospel is one of my heroes! Had cataracts of crust grown over the eyes of his faith? He was somewhere else when Jesus first appeared to the disciples. Now he is there, physically present, but absent in spirit, in belief. I was alive to the reality of Christ's passion, death and resurrection last weekend. The memory of that day and its associations is rapidly disappearing! How to retrieve it....?
'Peace be with you. Peace be with you,' were the first words from Jesus when he came back from the dead. In Hebrew he would have said, 'Shalom. Shalom.' Shalom does not mean simply the absence of war and violence. It means the restoration of all things the way they are supposed to be, the reintegration of relationships and situations so that they all work for the good. When you bring a watch that's broken to a watchmaker for repair, he brings 'shalom' to the watch. Shalom comes to someone who's very ill and they're restored to full health. Or in a situation of great injustice, when people finally see the light and work with one another to correct those injustices and live in peace, 'shalom' happens.
Jesus is saying 'Shalom' to his disciples, who are very much afraid and disheartened for letting down their master, teacher and friend. He is telling them not to worry, that he wants to restore the relationship of friendship and love with them. They don't have to say a word. He says it first - Shalom! In this troubled day and age, I think it's important to hold on to that concept, because we see sin operative in the world. Sin manifests itself in disunity, in broken relationships and fighting. We read in the newspaper or see on TV every single day stories about people who injure or kill one another, stories that families or friends or communities that are in conflict with one another. Unfortunately, it gets played out at national and international levels and we wonder if war will ever end! The great hope of Easter is the 'Shalom' greeting today or, in Matthew's resurrection story at the Easter Vigil, 'Do not be afraid.'
Reunion with family and friends over Easter is itself a sign and symbol of who and what we were created to be. In relationship. There's a longing in our hearts, tugging at our hearts. God is calling us to long for the message of Jesus, to hope for a better world and a better life for ourselves and for other people. And then, at the Eucharist, because of the word of Jesus, because of the community, because of, most of all, the consecrated bread and wine, we recognize Jesus in the breaking of the bread. And then we get sent to tell the world what God wants for it. Easter -with all its reunion of family and friends, its special faith experience of church - is the great sign of what's deepest and richest and best in human life. Shalom! Alleluia.
PASTOR EMERITUS
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
BE NOT AFRAID
I remember being disappointed as a kid to hear a priest say that Easter was more important than Christmas; that Easter was the main course to which Christmas was a starter or, at most, the salad. Now, of course, I have to agree with that priest. Sorry, kids, but the empty tomb trumps the crib!
'After the Sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary came to the tomb' - Matt 28:1. The drama of the empty tomb is more apparent in Matthew's Easter Vigil Gospel that it is in John's Easter Day Gospel. For that reason alone, I wish they would have prescribed Matthew's resurrection gospel for Easter Sunday rather than for the Saturday night Vigil. For Matthew's Jewish readers, 'the first day of the week' would have reminded them of the creation story in Genesis, when God created light on the first day. They would have understood the resurrection story as something revolutionary, the announcement of a whole new creation cycle, the emergence of a new world.
Every one of Jesus' disciples abandoned him on Good Friday; all except Mary Magdalene and the other Mary, who had the courage to keep vigil to the bitter end of the old world - Mt 27:61. How appropriate that they should be the first to witness the dawn of a new world which was accompanied by an earthquake, the appearance of a new world figure, and lightning. More dramatic than the Christmas scene!
No need to say how a major quake can feel like as if the earth were shaking on its foundations. The ground on which everything rests feels as if it were giving way and is about to open up and swallow us. Is this the 'big one' - the end - we ask? An earthquake tells us that everything we took for granted we can no longer take for granted, not even our lives. It has the power to shake the psyche and the soul to their foundations.
The earthquake of the resurrection marked the end of the old world and the arrival of the new. The Gospel says that 'an angel of the Lord descended from heaven.' The heavenly angel was a figure from the new world, from a new dimension of life that had not been experienced before. The angel 'rolled back the stone and sat upon it.' This was no small stone but a huge boulder. It signified the finality of death and the immovability of the old world. Death has been undone. The angel, by rolling the boulder as if it were a kid's hoop, declared his power to roll back the world to being what God had in mind for it at its creation.
The sixth-century St. Gregory the Great preached about the angel sitting on the stone, like Jesus sitting to preach the Sermon on the Mount. His appearance and clothing remind us of Jesus at the Transfiguration. Jesus didn't return from death, like Lazarus, only to die again. For Matthew's community, lightning was not of this world. It was from somewhere else, the abode of God. Like a quake, it got their attention. Jesus was now in a new dimension of life. A new message and mission for a new world was about to be delivered.
The guards, whose job it was to maintain the order of the old world of the Caesars, became like dead men. Law and order in the ancient world was maintained by instilling into people the fear of death. That 'the guards were shaken by fear of the angel and became like dead men' symbolized the overturning of the powers that maintained the values of the old world. Fear would no longer be the mainspring of life. Sitting on the stone, the new world messenger had a new message: 'Do not be afraid.' Death should have no power over you anymore.
The fear of death turns us in on ourselves and makes us lash out at others in violence. Look at what happened in the Garden when the armed mob came to arrest Jesus and, out of fear, one of Jesus' disciples drew his sword and cut off a mobster's ear. 'Put away your sword!' said Jesus - i.e. Do not be afraid. It's the take-home message of Easter. What if we lived our lives as if we were not afraid of death? The angel's message is a command to live according to the reality of the new creation. 'All changed, changed utterly: A terrible beauty is born,' said Irish poet William Butler Yeats, referring to another Easter revolution.
How come so many appear not to have noticed the subversive drama of the empty tomb?
PASTOR EMERITUS
'After the Sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary came to the tomb' - Matt 28:1. The drama of the empty tomb is more apparent in Matthew's Easter Vigil Gospel that it is in John's Easter Day Gospel. For that reason alone, I wish they would have prescribed Matthew's resurrection gospel for Easter Sunday rather than for the Saturday night Vigil. For Matthew's Jewish readers, 'the first day of the week' would have reminded them of the creation story in Genesis, when God created light on the first day. They would have understood the resurrection story as something revolutionary, the announcement of a whole new creation cycle, the emergence of a new world.
Every one of Jesus' disciples abandoned him on Good Friday; all except Mary Magdalene and the other Mary, who had the courage to keep vigil to the bitter end of the old world - Mt 27:61. How appropriate that they should be the first to witness the dawn of a new world which was accompanied by an earthquake, the appearance of a new world figure, and lightning. More dramatic than the Christmas scene!
No need to say how a major quake can feel like as if the earth were shaking on its foundations. The ground on which everything rests feels as if it were giving way and is about to open up and swallow us. Is this the 'big one' - the end - we ask? An earthquake tells us that everything we took for granted we can no longer take for granted, not even our lives. It has the power to shake the psyche and the soul to their foundations.
The earthquake of the resurrection marked the end of the old world and the arrival of the new. The Gospel says that 'an angel of the Lord descended from heaven.' The heavenly angel was a figure from the new world, from a new dimension of life that had not been experienced before. The angel 'rolled back the stone and sat upon it.' This was no small stone but a huge boulder. It signified the finality of death and the immovability of the old world. Death has been undone. The angel, by rolling the boulder as if it were a kid's hoop, declared his power to roll back the world to being what God had in mind for it at its creation.
The sixth-century St. Gregory the Great preached about the angel sitting on the stone, like Jesus sitting to preach the Sermon on the Mount. His appearance and clothing remind us of Jesus at the Transfiguration. Jesus didn't return from death, like Lazarus, only to die again. For Matthew's community, lightning was not of this world. It was from somewhere else, the abode of God. Like a quake, it got their attention. Jesus was now in a new dimension of life. A new message and mission for a new world was about to be delivered.
The guards, whose job it was to maintain the order of the old world of the Caesars, became like dead men. Law and order in the ancient world was maintained by instilling into people the fear of death. That 'the guards were shaken by fear of the angel and became like dead men' symbolized the overturning of the powers that maintained the values of the old world. Fear would no longer be the mainspring of life. Sitting on the stone, the new world messenger had a new message: 'Do not be afraid.' Death should have no power over you anymore.
The fear of death turns us in on ourselves and makes us lash out at others in violence. Look at what happened in the Garden when the armed mob came to arrest Jesus and, out of fear, one of Jesus' disciples drew his sword and cut off a mobster's ear. 'Put away your sword!' said Jesus - i.e. Do not be afraid. It's the take-home message of Easter. What if we lived our lives as if we were not afraid of death? The angel's message is a command to live according to the reality of the new creation. 'All changed, changed utterly: A terrible beauty is born,' said Irish poet William Butler Yeats, referring to another Easter revolution.
How come so many appear not to have noticed the subversive drama of the empty tomb?
PASTOR EMERITUS
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
READING THE SCRIPTURES
Some of my blog readers have asked about what has come to be called the 'historical-critical' method of interpreting the scriptures. I am not an academic scholar but I can offer my view on the matter. The 'historical-critical' method of interpreting St. Matthew's Gospel, for example, involves knowing something about the culture and history that was impacting Matthew's community, and which may have prompted him to write his Gospel. It's about getting into the mind and times of the human writer. The Vatican gave its blessing to Catholic scholars in 1943 who wished to use these tools of interpretation, and practically all commentaries today use this method.
My approach to reading the Gospels, for example, is to check out what commentators have to say about a particular Gospel story. The Anchor Bible Commentary is excellent, as is the New Jerome Biblical Commentary. I usually have more than enough in these two. I use others as backups and, now that I'm retired, I have the time I keep abreast of modern biblical scholarship by reading material in the library of the Graduate Theological Union, Berkeley. And sharing it with you! Coogan's 'Introduction to the Old Testament' and Powell's 'Introducing the New Testament' are good starts for the more serious student.
My research doesn't stop at the 'historical-critical' method. I had the good fortune to study 'patristics' as a young priest. Patristics is the study of the writings of the Fathers and Mothers of the Church, the early and medieval theologians and spiritual writers of Christianity. This foundation has made it relatively easy for me to look up what these giants of theology and spirituality had to say about a particular text in scripture. Their interpretation is 'theological-spiritual' and not that of historical criticism. I use any historical-critical information I can get and blend it with the theological-spiritual insights of writers like Origen, Augustine, Gregory, Bernard or Aquinas. These writers offer more than a thousand years of commentary and insight. I have found that one method acts as a corrective to the other. Too much of historical criticism would leave my understanding of the text too dry and fruitless, while too much medieval spirituality would leave it overly devotional and without solid foundation.
There were two writers of the bible, God and the human author. Augustine and friends help me understand what the mind of God is, while historical criticism helps me understand the mind and intent of the human author as he addressed his particular audience. Sensitivity to both authors allows me discern some connections between different parts of the bible, and large patterns throughout the bible. Historical criticism alone just leaves me with a collection of disparate texts without the sense of connectedness. As practicing Christians I think we need today a theological-spiritual way of reading the Gospels.
The Church's reflection on the scriptures over the past two thousand years, as seen in the writings of theologians and preachers from the time of St. Paul to Pope Benedict XVI, is by far the best interpretative lens we have. I feel we need to get back to reading scripture like Augustine and the present Pope. I mention Benedict because his two extant volumes on 'Jesus of Nazareth' read like the ancient Fathers of the Church, but blended with the best of contemporary historical criticism. Forget all the papal baggage, all the Vatican's poor PR and the political bloopers of Benedict and you will find here a rich and arresting spiritual and theological interpretation of the scriptures. These two volumes read like pure lectio divina 'in excelsis.'
PASTOR EMERITUS
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
DEAD MEN WALKING
Spring is in the air, life is on the move, and Lent's spiritual growth is on the home stretch to Easter. We heard some magnificent stories of new life and growth these past Sundays: The woman who wanted God but was looking in all the wrong places; the blind man who didn't see right until he believed and worshiped Christ. There's another amazing story this Sunday. The raising of Lazarus from the dead is meant to open us to allowing Christ to help us deal with the spiritual deadness that resides in our hearts.
But before getting into it let me say that John's Gospel, from which these stories come, is a tough one for most of us. Much of it is about the dynamic of faith and the new life of grace. There are no parables in John, and the few miracles of Jesus we find there are multi-dimensional in meaning. Akin to great literature, they create, and demand, a certain receptive wavelength in us.
The Gospels communicate on a human/spiritual, non-doctrinal level - that of story, of experience, of slow discovery. Our fragmented and hyper-active lifestyles have a way of blocking us from getting to the level of listening and presence that the Gospels require. We need to be in touch with ourselves in order to become ready for God. As St. Augustine once said, 'Make humanity your way and you will arrive at God.' Unfortunately, the way we live tends to keep us adrift on the surface of ourselves and unable to reach deeper levels of our hungers. And our church often tells us to skip our humanity and go to God without it.
Many Christian words and images seem tired and unalive to a lot of people. The story of Jesus bringing Lazarus back from the dead is about removing deadness from our lives. The problem is that too many people have encountered our tradition only in tired language and frozen forms. As a result, they have great difficulty developing their Catholic spirituality, often settling for pious devotion instead. Like the story of the Samaritan woman at the well and that of the man born blind, this one is meant to prepare the imagination to come fully alive through a fresh recognition of the Lord. The hope is to awaken the sleeping beauty of our wonder so we can be more ready for the great wonder of Jesus Christ.
One way to look at Lazarus is to see him sealed in his tomb of four days as an image of our self-absorbed selves. Our culture is wounded and tells us that self-absorption is the way to go. And we see nothing wrong with it! The wound was inflicted centuries ago with Rene Descartes saying that everything 'begins and ends inside me.' It has been festering ever since.
We are so drastically wrong about ourselves that Christianity finds it hard to make itself heard. The gospel stories, like this Sunday's, are very human stories of subversion, meant to reverse our way of seeing things and to rescue us from addiction to false images of who we are. Through the images offered us in the gospel, we gradually, often over a lifetime, learn to unlearn the logic that robs our lives of their intended flow. That unlearning is called 'salvation.'
Yes, spring is in the air and new life is beginning to reappear from its winter tomb. Jesus Christ came to show us how to retrieve the lost art of living genuinely human lives. We need to wake up and cast a cold eye on a culture-tomb that prompts us unceasingly to undervalue who we are. We were never meant by God to be dead men walking.
PASTOR EMERITUS
But before getting into it let me say that John's Gospel, from which these stories come, is a tough one for most of us. Much of it is about the dynamic of faith and the new life of grace. There are no parables in John, and the few miracles of Jesus we find there are multi-dimensional in meaning. Akin to great literature, they create, and demand, a certain receptive wavelength in us.
The Gospels communicate on a human/spiritual, non-doctrinal level - that of story, of experience, of slow discovery. Our fragmented and hyper-active lifestyles have a way of blocking us from getting to the level of listening and presence that the Gospels require. We need to be in touch with ourselves in order to become ready for God. As St. Augustine once said, 'Make humanity your way and you will arrive at God.' Unfortunately, the way we live tends to keep us adrift on the surface of ourselves and unable to reach deeper levels of our hungers. And our church often tells us to skip our humanity and go to God without it.
Many Christian words and images seem tired and unalive to a lot of people. The story of Jesus bringing Lazarus back from the dead is about removing deadness from our lives. The problem is that too many people have encountered our tradition only in tired language and frozen forms. As a result, they have great difficulty developing their Catholic spirituality, often settling for pious devotion instead. Like the story of the Samaritan woman at the well and that of the man born blind, this one is meant to prepare the imagination to come fully alive through a fresh recognition of the Lord. The hope is to awaken the sleeping beauty of our wonder so we can be more ready for the great wonder of Jesus Christ.
One way to look at Lazarus is to see him sealed in his tomb of four days as an image of our self-absorbed selves. Our culture is wounded and tells us that self-absorption is the way to go. And we see nothing wrong with it! The wound was inflicted centuries ago with Rene Descartes saying that everything 'begins and ends inside me.' It has been festering ever since.
We are so drastically wrong about ourselves that Christianity finds it hard to make itself heard. The gospel stories, like this Sunday's, are very human stories of subversion, meant to reverse our way of seeing things and to rescue us from addiction to false images of who we are. Through the images offered us in the gospel, we gradually, often over a lifetime, learn to unlearn the logic that robs our lives of their intended flow. That unlearning is called 'salvation.'
Yes, spring is in the air and new life is beginning to reappear from its winter tomb. Jesus Christ came to show us how to retrieve the lost art of living genuinely human lives. We need to wake up and cast a cold eye on a culture-tomb that prompts us unceasingly to undervalue who we are. We were never meant by God to be dead men walking.
PASTOR EMERITUS
Friday, April 1, 2011
WHO DO WE SEE?
Before I ever thought of becoming a priest I was caught up in the things that turn young men on; money, girls, sport, parties, friends, having a good time.... I was your typical 'young man about town,' footloose and fancy free. I had no long-term vision or plan. Just hang out and hang loose. If you've no vision, you perish - to paraphrase a well-known line from Isaiah. Looking back, I can see myself in the man born blind of this Sunday's gospel. In fact, I think my life has been one long coming to vision.
While the story is about the healing of physical blindness, it's an artfully told tale that has several levels of meaning. The whole Gospel of John has what theologians call a 'high Christology' because it highlights the divinity of Jesus. Much of today's agnosticism and atheism is rooted in spiritual blindness. Much of our everyday anguish of heart has to do with a poor and underdeveloped spiritual vision. Local NPR commentator, Michael Krasny's recent book on agnosticism recounts a lifelong struggle for spiritual vision.
The third century Christian writer and philosopher, Origen, commenting on today's Gospel, said, 'To be holy is to see as God sees.'
He goes on to say that God's vision of humanity is that we are all connected and grounded in love. That's the basic Christian vision of things. It's where the Golden Rule ('do unto others as you would have them do unto you') and Jesus' teaching about love and forgiveness are rooted. Unfortunately, we experience the world as a collection of antagonistic individuals. My life, my ego, my prerogative, my lust for power come before yours. You are the competition, the enemy. Are we in denial about our blindness? Do we realize our need for help?
'I am the light of the world.' With these words Jesus spat on the ground, made clay with his saliva, and smeared the clay on the blind man's eyes.' The divine Jesus is at work here, the God of creation. St. Augustine, commenting on this scene, portrays Jesus eying the blind man, this 'unfinished' work of creation. When Christ looks at us and sees that we are spiritually blind he acts in a similar way, inviting us to baptism and Eucharist. Augustine sees the Pool of Siloam (where the man went to wash) as the waters of baptism - indeed our whole sacramental system. In this Sunday's second reading from Ephesians we hear, 'You were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord.' Encountering the living Christ in baptism, we are enlightened by him and told to 'live as children of the light.'
It's not easy to live as children of the light. The Gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke portray even Jesus' closest disciples as being blind and struggling to accept him on his terms. They represent all of us as we struggle to grow in our vision and acceptance of Christ on his terms. The blind man in today's gospel had his faith very quickly challenged and tested. At the first testing he had no clue who had healed him. In this he reminds me of myself as a young man. I had no clue, no spiritual vision whatever. At the second testing his spiritual eyes were beginning to open and he thought his healer might be a prophet. How often do we nurse false ideas about Jesus, the gospel and even about God? How often do we want God on our terms? How often do we become angry when God doesn't meet our expectations? How many Catholics remain at teenage level in knowledge and understanding of their faith and beliefs?
Faith is not easy. It develops through testing that are not of our own choice or making. Part of our struggle is having to deal with doubt - doubt about our Catholic Church, Jesus, the hereafter...God. Even at my age and after all these years of preaching the gospel, I go through periods of doubt and wondering about it all. During such times of testing I feel as if I were back as that young man of long ago, without any faith or spiritual vision. But looking back, I can see how Christ often came by and sought me out to heal the temporary blindness.
All kinds of testing come to visit us unexpectedly, out of the blue. Betrayal of friends, serious illness, job loss....deep doubt. Our friend in today's gospel grew in his faith and understanding with each testing. Jesus' identity kept changing for him. It's like that with us. There are moments when we need his guidance, times when we need his healing and reassurance. We need his forgiveness very frequently. Through all of this, we grow in our faith and vision so we can give an ever more convincing account of the hope that is in us through baptism. The Church offers us the forty days of Lent so our growing baptismal faith can develop. Our faith will eventually come to full 'Easter' maturity when we can make the words of the blind man our own: '"I do believe, Lord," and he worshiped him.' Like him, we will come gradually to recognize and witness to who Jesus really is, and worship him. John wrote his Gospel so 'you may believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God' - John 20:31. This level of faith and vision is what we anticipate and celebrate at Easter.
PASTOR EMERITUS
While the story is about the healing of physical blindness, it's an artfully told tale that has several levels of meaning. The whole Gospel of John has what theologians call a 'high Christology' because it highlights the divinity of Jesus. Much of today's agnosticism and atheism is rooted in spiritual blindness. Much of our everyday anguish of heart has to do with a poor and underdeveloped spiritual vision. Local NPR commentator, Michael Krasny's recent book on agnosticism recounts a lifelong struggle for spiritual vision.
The third century Christian writer and philosopher, Origen, commenting on today's Gospel, said, 'To be holy is to see as God sees.'
He goes on to say that God's vision of humanity is that we are all connected and grounded in love. That's the basic Christian vision of things. It's where the Golden Rule ('do unto others as you would have them do unto you') and Jesus' teaching about love and forgiveness are rooted. Unfortunately, we experience the world as a collection of antagonistic individuals. My life, my ego, my prerogative, my lust for power come before yours. You are the competition, the enemy. Are we in denial about our blindness? Do we realize our need for help?
'I am the light of the world.' With these words Jesus spat on the ground, made clay with his saliva, and smeared the clay on the blind man's eyes.' The divine Jesus is at work here, the God of creation. St. Augustine, commenting on this scene, portrays Jesus eying the blind man, this 'unfinished' work of creation. When Christ looks at us and sees that we are spiritually blind he acts in a similar way, inviting us to baptism and Eucharist. Augustine sees the Pool of Siloam (where the man went to wash) as the waters of baptism - indeed our whole sacramental system. In this Sunday's second reading from Ephesians we hear, 'You were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord.' Encountering the living Christ in baptism, we are enlightened by him and told to 'live as children of the light.'
It's not easy to live as children of the light. The Gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke portray even Jesus' closest disciples as being blind and struggling to accept him on his terms. They represent all of us as we struggle to grow in our vision and acceptance of Christ on his terms. The blind man in today's gospel had his faith very quickly challenged and tested. At the first testing he had no clue who had healed him. In this he reminds me of myself as a young man. I had no clue, no spiritual vision whatever. At the second testing his spiritual eyes were beginning to open and he thought his healer might be a prophet. How often do we nurse false ideas about Jesus, the gospel and even about God? How often do we want God on our terms? How often do we become angry when God doesn't meet our expectations? How many Catholics remain at teenage level in knowledge and understanding of their faith and beliefs?
Faith is not easy. It develops through testing that are not of our own choice or making. Part of our struggle is having to deal with doubt - doubt about our Catholic Church, Jesus, the hereafter...God. Even at my age and after all these years of preaching the gospel, I go through periods of doubt and wondering about it all. During such times of testing I feel as if I were back as that young man of long ago, without any faith or spiritual vision. But looking back, I can see how Christ often came by and sought me out to heal the temporary blindness.
All kinds of testing come to visit us unexpectedly, out of the blue. Betrayal of friends, serious illness, job loss....deep doubt. Our friend in today's gospel grew in his faith and understanding with each testing. Jesus' identity kept changing for him. It's like that with us. There are moments when we need his guidance, times when we need his healing and reassurance. We need his forgiveness very frequently. Through all of this, we grow in our faith and vision so we can give an ever more convincing account of the hope that is in us through baptism. The Church offers us the forty days of Lent so our growing baptismal faith can develop. Our faith will eventually come to full 'Easter' maturity when we can make the words of the blind man our own: '"I do believe, Lord," and he worshiped him.' Like him, we will come gradually to recognize and witness to who Jesus really is, and worship him. John wrote his Gospel so 'you may believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God' - John 20:31. This level of faith and vision is what we anticipate and celebrate at Easter.
PASTOR EMERITUS
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