Jesus Christ, Wordsmith

It is something of a commonplace in Pauline studies to point out that the gospel forced Paul to exercise a certain ingenuity when trying to express our participation in Christ. He invents a variety of words, often with the prefix sym to indicate our union with Christ.

I have not seen pointed out that Jesus Himself (or, others would say, the evangelists to recorded His teachings) also made use of words not found in Greek authors, either the classical authors or the Septuagint translation of the Old Testament.

"O ye of little faith" is a phrase that appears several times in Matthew's gospel and once in Luke's. The word behind it is one of these neologisms: oligopistos 'small faith'. Here are the uses of this word (and a closely related word oligopistia, smallness of faith) in the gospels (RSV translation):

"But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O men of little faith?" [Mt 6: 30; see parallel at Lk 12: 28]

"And he said to them, 'Why are you afraid, O men of little faith?' Then he rose and rebuked the winds and the sea; and there was a great calm." [Mt 8: 26]

"Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him, saying to him, 'O man of little faith, why did you doubt?'" [Mt 14: 31]

"But Jesus, aware of this, said, 'O men of little faith, why do you discuss among yourselves the fact that you have no bread?'" [Mt 16: 8]

"Then the disciples came to Jesus privately and said, 'why could we not cast it out?' He said to them, 'Because of your little faith." [Mt 17: 19-20a]

***

A few things to note about this word. First of all, only Jesus uses it; Matthew and Luke do not use it as narrators, but only recounting something Jesus actually said. Aside from the first saying, which would belong to the putative 'Q' source, St. Matthew is the only author to quote Jesus using this word. In St. Mark's gospel in the parallel stories, we have similar, but not quite the same, phrasing: "Have you no faith," for instance (Luke has "Where is your faith?"). The story of Peter walking on the water is totally unique to Matthew.

The word makes a handy alternative to apistia, 'faithless', which Jesus also uses, but which obviously has darker connotations.

That faith is something that starts small and grows does seem to be something of a new teaching in the gospel. Faith has a central place in the Old Testament, but with the revelation of Jesus Christ, a whole new knowledge of the world is initiated, and it takes time to rediscover our bearings, once we have 'lost our lives' for the sake of the gospel and 'found them' through faith. There are two particularly well-known examples of partial faith (you might think of more). First, when Mark tells the story of Jesus healing a blind man, and at first his sight is only partly restored (people look like walking trees), commentators from early times tell us that this is a symbol of the ongoing process of enlightenment that begins at baptism and continues throughout our lives. Secondly, when Paul professes that we see now as in a mirror darkly, but then we shall see face to face, we glimpse again the process of belief, that the gift of faith in baptism is not the end but the beginning of salvation, which will only be completed in the next life.

With this in mind, the role of contemplatives in the Church gets some grounding: we are in need of those whose vision has penetrated further into the mysteries than is possible in the secular sphere.

In any case, if we are found 'small in faith', we should be properly chastised, but it should also be a spur to deeper prayer and seeking after God.

Mystagogia Epsilon

Sursum corda: Lift up your hearts!

If, as I suggested at the beginning of this series, the Liturgy of the Word corresponds to the catechumenate, then the solemn beginning of the Liturgy of the Eucharist corresponds to the illumination of baptism. Instructed by God's Word and actively working to uproot vice and plant virtue in our hearts, we prepare to enter God's presence in a fitting state. The first movement in this preparation is to exclude from our hearts any worldliness, and lift our hearts up to ponder heavenly realities. The Cherubic Hymn, used in Orthodox liturgies, beautifully exhorts us in this regard:

"Let us who mystically represent the cherubim now lay aside all earthly cares. That we may receive the King of all Who comes invisibly upborne by the angelic hosts. Alleluia!"

If it is our task to represent the very cherubim who attend at God's throne, we have to make the effort to situate ourselves there, in heaven, away from the world.

At the risk of repeating myself, I believe it is important one last time to recall the prerequisites for receiving the King of all: "Lord, who shall be admitted to your tent and dwell on your holy mountain?" Answer: "He who walks without fault; he who acts with justice and speaks the truth from his heart; he who does not slander with his tongue; he who does no wrong to his brother, who casts no slur on his neighbor, who holds the godless in disdain but honors those who fear the Lord; he who keeps his pledge, come what may; who takes no interest on a loan and accepts no bribe against the innocent. Such a man will stand firm forever. [Ps. 15; cf. Ps. 24, and Ps. 118: 19-20]"

This requires an act of imagination. The King comes to us invisibly, and when He does manifest Himself, He does so not yet fully in glory, but in the humility of bread and wine, transformed into His Body and Blood, sacrificed upon the Cross.

I suppose many today ask if this is 'realistic' or 'worth it'. Many of us would, without much forethought, perhaps prefer more tangible results, like smiling parishioners who make us feel good to be there. Nothing against smiles and hospitality, but here is where I believe that we need mystagogy, an appreciation of the mysteries so badly. When life throws us curveballs, such as when the person we are counting on to smile has encountered terrible suffering and isn't smiling today, if our faith is only supported by this human effort, it is going to wither. We need to "seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God [Col 3: 2]." It is this Christ, raised from the dead, triumphant over all human failing and dealing the death-blow to death itself, Who gives us confidence in the face of trials. Only Christ can save us: no amount of effort at warm fellow-feeling can save us from death.

"Lift your drooping hands and strengthen your weak knees, and make straight paths for your feet....For you have not come to what may be touched, a blazing fire, and darkness, and gloom, and a tempest, and the sound of a trumpet....But you have come to Mount Zion and to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to innumerable angels in festal gathering! [Heb 12: 12, 18-19, 22]" Would that we truly believed this in our hearts! What could stop us from being saints?

Does our turning our backs on the world mean disdain for those in the world, or the many blessings of creation? Me genoito! May such a thing not be said! We will be sent back into the world as Christ's ambassadors, but if we do not return to the world having received Christ's presence, and the grace to triumph over temptation, then what will we bring to the world that the world does not already have in some way? No; we must bring Christ, and to bring Christ, we must first receive Him, invisibly upborne by the angelic hosts. To receive Him, we must lift up our hearts to Him.

May the peace that surpasses all understanding be with you!

Mystagogia Delta

Yesterday, an anonymous reader left this excellent comment:

"In addition to having preconceived ideas about God, I think we also have preconceived ideas about what the spiritual life is like. The recent reaction to the revelations about the dark night of the soul that Mother Teresa experienced shows that some people don't realize that darkness is not a sign that someone is not holy or has lost their faith; but rather, it is a very normal part of the spiritual life. "

Indeed. In community life, as the brothers attest, I frequently quote St. Paul's exhortation that we 'not be conformed to this world but be transformed by the renewal of your mind [Rom 12: 2]'. I interpret this to mean that we begin, in respect to the things of God and of the spirit, with the need for renewal. This is always going to be the case because we cannot exhaust God nor the spirit (the Holy Spirit or our own). We suffer still from the nineteenth-century Romanticizing and 'saccharinization' of the saints: there are many who are scandalized by the fact that St. Therese of Lisieux also went through a deep trial of faith as she was dying. This fact was cleansed from the first 'official' biography. Thus holiness is confused with conformity to a certain kind of genteel and cultured disposition. The idea that we might need to 'put on the armor of light' and take a few blows for God and the Kingdom is not popular. This is also why I so frequently recommend lectio divina: God's Word, carefully heard and acted upon, will help us to avoid these misperceptions which end up keeping us tepid in the faith. So I will conclude this bit of a digression with St. Paul's testimony about the journey of faith.

"We do not want you to be ignorant, brethren, of the affliction we experienced in Asia; for we were so utterly, unbearably crushed that we despaired of life itself. Why, we felt that we had received the sentence of death;' but that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead." [ 2 Cor 1: 8]

"We have this power in earthen vessels, to show that the transcendent power belongs to God and not to us....[most quotations stop here; we continue:] We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies. For while we live we are always being given up to death for Jesus' sake so that the life of Jesus may be manifested in our mortal flesh." [2 Cor 4: 7-11]

"They stoned Paul and dragged him out off the city, supposing that he was dead. But when the disciples gathered about him, he rose up and entered the city....they returned to Lystra and to Iconium and to Antioch, strengthening the souls of the disciples, exhorting them to continue in the faith, and saying that through many tribulations we must enter the kingdom of God." [Acts 14: 19b-20a; 21b-22]

Mystagogy

He is risen! Alleluia!

This period after Easter is traditionally devoted to 'mystagogy', that is, the interpretation of the Mysterium Fidei, the Mystery of Faith, for the newly initiated.

While the recently baptized have much to learn, the same holds true even for Christians who have been at it for awhile. By definition, the Christian mysteries are inexhaustible, since they put us in contact with the infinitely awesome God Who created all there is. I suspect that some of the difficulties we encounter in our daily lives as Christians are less effectively addressed by attempting 'more of an effort to live well'. Rather, that very effort wears us out because we forget the dignity to which we are called as well as the power and glory of God. Gradually our good resolutions are broken down by daily pressures and simple human inertia, and we cease to know either 'the Scriptures or the power of God [Mark 12: 24].' Like the Sadducees, resurrection begins to look like a fairy tale, and suffering becomes unredeemable and unbearable.

So we do well to meditate, especially at this time of year, on the "depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God [Rom 11: 33].'

Let us first admit that this 'depth' of God is mysterious. We are mysteries to ourselves and one another: how much more mysterious is Almighty God Who dwells in uncreated light? If we have spent any time at all getting to know ourselves or if we have entered into relationships in marriage, with children or long-term friendships, we discover that human beings themselves are an infinite source of wonder, puzzlement and growth. In this we image forth the wide spiritual spaces of the unseen God.

Grasping that our worship of God is by means of sacraments (mysteries) is a first step in preserving ourselves from the mistake of thinking that all we need to do is follow some formula wo get to heaven, whether that be following the rules of the Catholic Church, or even simply accepting Jesus Christ as my Savior. We must constantly change, morphing from glory to glory, deepening our love for God, broadening our love for the Church and the world. To stand still or 'coast' in our discipleship might not immediately manifest itself as going backward or falling away, but when we serve a dynamic God and the Lord of History, why should we wish to settle for simple prerequisites? Let us go forward into God's glory, following the 'path of life' shown to us by our merciful and loving Lord Jesus Christ!

Holy Saturday and the Mother of God

Holy Week forms the background of each week of the Church's liturgical calendar. For this reason, throughout the year Sunday is 'The Lord's Day', the solemn commemoration and celebration of the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Even in Lent, we do not fast on Sundays.

Similarly, on Friday, we have the custom of fasting and abstinence, even outside of Lent. This practice has been somewhat mitigated in recent decades, and I think that there is a real loss in this, even if there had been problems with scruples and abuses surrounding the 'no meat on Friday' rule that held for Catholic for many centuries.

Thursday, while the association is rather muted, pops up as a day to remember the Last Supper and with it, the institution of the Eucharistic sacrifice and the ordained priesthood. Pope John Paul II, when suggesting the new 'Mysteries of Light' for meditation during the rosary, also suggested that they be used on Thursday, and included in them the institution of the Holy Eucharist.

We might expect that Saturday would be an extension of the mourning begun on Friday. Instead, we find a very long tradition of dedicating Saturday to the Blessed Virgin Mary. Is this a mistake? A blip caused by overzealous churchmen and pious laity in their devotion to our Lord's mother?

In fact, the devotion to Mary on Saturday is indeed connected to Holy Saturday, though it requires the eyes of faith to read this association. As she so often does, Mary stands as a prototype for the Church. The Church was given birth on Good Friday from the side of our dying Savior, as Mary stood beneath him (her 'Head') with the Apostle John. Mary, as the first believer, the first to be redeemed as the Theotokos, the God-bearer, is the model of the Church that does not lose faith, even through persecution, even through death. Jesus' death is a cause for mourning, yes; but through the eyes of faith, it is a cause of wonder and, if we may say so soberly, joy. For in the eyes of faith, this death has won our salvation, has forgiven our sins, has restored us to life and communion with the God Who Is Love, has trampled down death forever and unleashed the power of the Holy Spirit for the recreation of the cosmos. The Catholic Church bears witness to this today: our Lord's body lies dead in the tomb, but we believe that He will rise, and that we have no more need to fear. All we need do is believe and wait. What can mortals do to me? Indeed, what can Satan himself do to me, with the knowledge I have that he has been defeated?

There are fleeting references to Mary's unshaken faith on Holy Saturday scattered in patristic meditations on the theme. The sense of Saturday as the day of Our Lady who did not waver and 'was not scandalized on account' of her Son's death, began to coalesce in the Benedictine centuries of the Middle Ages. It is a helpful thing to meditate on the demeanor, the prayer of Mary on this day, the day on which the disciples' faith was weighed in the scales, and most of them were found wanting. Indeed, even after the resurrection, we find them hiding away, until their baptism by the Holy Spirit on Pentecost. The exception is Mary, whose baptism took place in the 'overshadowing' of the Holy Spirit at the Annunciation. We who have received the gift of the Holy Spirit in baptism do well to reflect on the Mother of God as our model of discipleship, even if the unregenerated parts of us take their cue more often from those who ran away, hid and generally despaired. While we can take our comfort and strength from our incorporation into Christ's Body and bride 'without stain or wrinkle', as individual believers, it is helpful for us to gaze upon the disciple who offers the pattern of following Jesus with total faith, hope and love.

Sr. Genevieve Glen, OSB, recently gave an exellent reflection on Judas as a mirror of our own infidelity, precisely because so little is said about his motives in the gospel. In a similar manner, Mary can be our mirror of faith, precisely because so little is said, simply the fact that she did not leave her Lord at His passion.

Pray for us, O Virgin Mother of God, that we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ!

P.S. Happy Easter, Michael! You are welcome to post whatever comments and observations you have. Hope to see the whole family sometime at Easter!

News from N.S. de la Soledad

The principal purpose of my visit to La Soledad is to meet with fellow North American superiors. We share news of our communities as well as our difficulties, seeing if pooling our experiences can lead to stronger observances in our communities and a more evangelical witness. Tomorrow, we will be discussing whether there is room in our communities for men and women who are more inclined toward work than choir duties. Lay brothers were almost all absorbed into the choir after Vatican II, but there is clearly still some sense that an arrangement of different brothers in different capacities can be fruitful for all involved. We will also discuss the problems of the internet and email. Last year we discussed how to make lectio divina the spiritual center of our personal conversion to Christ.

However, it is always edifying to visit other communities with similar observances and simply watch the community. My brothers back home perhaps shudder when they think about the ideas with which I will return. It reminds me of singing under Bruce Tammen, when he would yearly take a couple of weeks to sing under the great Robert Shaw. He would always come back on fire for choral music…and the choir would tremble!

At recreation the past two evenings, we have had presentations from each superior on the story of the founding of their houses, then presentations by each of the brothers on their call to monastic life. This sort of sharing is very powerful. One quickly realizes, with the rabbi Gamaliel in this morning´s first reading, that if God desires something, then we cannot keep it from coming to be, and if something is not of God, then it will not flourish. Every one of the eight houses represented here (the oldest of which can realistically date its founding to the 1950´s, though most were founded in the 1980´s) has experienced devastating crises but even more significantly, incredible acts of salvation. God provides. What else need we say about the fact that our odd group of monasteries is flourishing? After all, the success of the Early Church was clearly against all odds, were it simply a human phenomenon. Yet here we are 2000 years later, and the gospel is being proclaimed in virtually every language in every corner of the earth. Glory to God in Jesus Christ!

We should bear these facts of our salvation history in mind. So numerous today are the ´prophets of doom´ (to quote Pope John XXIII)! The Church is always changing, of course, because it is a living Body. But change is not comfortable for us many times. We should welcome it in faith. How else can faith and hope grow if we never have to trust God, if everything simply continues according to our own estimates of what is good? Let us ask everyday for the gift of the theological virtues of faith, hope and love, so as to allow God to be more and more, to be finally All in All.

I have moved from lectio on Ezra to Colossians. This passage and a parallel from the Psalms caught my attention:

"from the day you heard and understood (ekousamen kai egnomen) the grace of God."
-- Col 1: 6

"what we have heard and understood (LXX: ekousate kai epegnote; Hb. shama'nu vanneda'em)
-- Ps. 78: 3

Faith comes through hearing, says Saint Paul elsewhere. It is worth noting that this faith, if we read it in light of this passage, can be linked to understanding (read: fides et ratio). Similarly, students of the Old Testament are often told that hearing in the Semitic languages means obeying as well. Think of Abraham, when God calls to him in Genesis 22: "Here I am!" Samuel has a similar experience of hearing and disposing himself to obey. Again, I believe that the connection of obedience and understanding can be enlightened by these two passage.

In bringing up faith and obedience, I mean to point out that we often think of blind faith and blind obedience as the truest kinds, perhaps even more praiseworthy than understanding faith and obedience. Not all think this praiseworthy of course, and not a few intellectual types are afraid of the Christian faith because they understand to involve turning off the brain.

Faith is not unreasonable. It can be understood. Perhaps it cannot be understood all at once, in a similar fashion to needing time to understand differential calculus or the General Theory of Relativity. Just because most of us can't quite follow Einstein in no way suggests that he is unreasonable or our faith in his theories (which are important for things like sending men to the moon) is blind.

Obedience is also not unreasonable. Someone needs to make decisions if we are to live together, and it is reasonable to entrust decisions to a person who has the most information and wisdom. How's an omnipotent God for that role?

Granted, both examples I quote are late examples of 'Semitic' thought, but let me finish by pointing out that the Greeks are sometimes blamed for introducing this idea of sight and understanding into the pristine Hebrew religious practice of hearing and doing. Might it not instead be the case that the Greeks gave the Jews a vocabulary and method to describe something already present in Israel?