Active Participation

What I wrote yesterday must be balanced with the call of Pope St Pius X and Vatican II for the active participation of the faithful in the Church's work of praise. Is it perhaps the case that 'full and active participation' is controversial because it is understood in a modernist, subjectivist context? In other words, we don't feel like we are participating unless we are 'getting something out of it?'

In contending that the effects of the sacrifice of the Mass should not be judged by our subjective response, I am not therefore advocating a return to mandatory attendance without comprehension (and certainly not routine abstention from communion). Rather, the gravity of the Mass calls for a deeper penetration of the liturgical action by our minds and hearts than a mere participation in something that makes me feel better.

Part of my strong response to our present circumstance, as I indicated yesterday, is the overwhelming fact of injustice, cruelty and despair in the world. The Precious Blood shed on the Cross is offered 'for you and for all so that sins may be forgiven'. Christ's death is the answer to horrible mystery of sin and suffering. Our conscious consent to bind ourselves to the New Covenant in His Blood means that we, too, become an offering 'so that sins may be forgiven'. We partake, therefore, in the Church's liturgical celebration in praise of God not merely to get a nugget of insight each day (though we should welcome this when it happens), but to 're-present' the saving Sacrifice and 're-enlist' in the struggle against evil and death. On a mystical level, this is of supreme consequence for those who suffer now, but whose lives we cannot directly affect by corporal works of mercy (it also implies our obligation to help those whom we can). Rather, we implore God to remember His mercy by placing ourselves at the foot of the Cross 'in memory of' our dear Savior Jesus Christ.

Ash Wednesday

[the following is my prepared text for today's homily]

Pope John Paul II frequently warned our culture in the West not to cooperate with the Culture of Death, and with reason. I forget how many murders the average teenager sees in a week on television, but suffice it to say that we do not follow the precept of the prophet Isaiah that would have us turn our eyes lest we look on evil. Television shows extolling torture as a good and movies reveling in gore are at the top of the charts.

And yet, for all of that, we are squeamish when it comes to dealing with death in real life, as it were. The Culture of Death does not even like the word ‘abortion’, an ugly word that clearly connotes the aborting of life. Hazy existential terms like ‘choice’ and pseudo-scientific terms like “pregnancy termination” are preferred. Funeral directors put fake grass over graves lest we be tempted to contemplate that our own bodies will someday end up in just such a hole in the ground, and then they shoe us away from the grave, so we don’t see the body of a loved one descend into the dust from which it was taken.

It would seem odd that the Church, promoting the Culture of Life, would have us today meditate on death. And yet this seems to bring us full circle. If the Culture of Death is wrapped up in a denial of the realities of bloodshed and decay, preferring instead to sample them in titillating vicarious ways, we Christians are the realists, judging by faith that truth, even hard truth, will set us free. And so we monks today put into action the teaching of St. Benedict to ‘keep death daily before our eyes’. Why do we do this? Are we aiming to be morbid kill-joys?

Far from it: we are in fact preparing ourselves for the holiest of days, the day upon which Christ triumphed over death by acknowledging the reality of death by dying Himself. Afterward, He rose again, and returned to offer us reconciliation by the life of the Holy Spirit. Over the course of the year, our appreciation for this stunning affirmation of the greatness of life and the power of God tends to wane under the burden of many pressures and distractions. Today, we recommit ourselves to reality in order to prepare for the celebration of that Day of Days once more. We do this not by perfecting ourselves. Our penances are not a self-improvement program. Rather, we do this by fearlessly facing the truth of our need for God’s grace and pardon. We do this by recognizing that we don’t have eternity to choose life and choose God, that merely going about business as usual leaves us at the mercy of death and decay.

Let us then make time this Lent to meditate on our sins, on the ways in which we have cooperated with the Culture of Death, and acknowledge this, each of us personally, so that we can turn to the God of Life for healing. And let us always do so with an eye on the prize: the celebration of Life’s triumph on the Cross at Easter.

Stuck

The Prior's Office and cell look out onto half of Bridgeport. This fact, combined with the blessing and curse of acute hearing means that I wake several times each winter to the sound of spinning tires as inexperienced drivers attempt to extract their cars from snowdrifts. I was treated to the first such spectacle of the young season this morning at 2:00 a.m. by the time I reached the window, the driver of a pick-up truck was stepping out of the door and saying to her companion: "We're almost there!"

I came to driving maturity upon the Frozen Tundra ® of Green Bay, Wisconsin. So getting out of huge drifts is second nature to me. This poor driver, contrary to her perception, was not almost out; rather she had almost finished off a perfectly polished layer of ice under her back tires and was dangerously close to toasting her engine. So I quickly threw on some shoes and a coat (monks ought always to sleep clothed!) and went to offer help, both in terms of experience and whatever brawn I have.

By the time I had reached the door, they had figured what needed to be done: crank the steering wheel hard to the left and shift into reverse (there wasn't anyone behind them!). Relieved, I went back to bed, but of course not to sleep immediately.

The predicament of being stuck in a snowdrift is not unlike the situation of being stuck in a particular sin (and this happens to most of us in our lives). We want very badly to be freed of it and be on our way, then temptation comes and we are overthrown. We make various efforts and just when we think that we are getting somewhere, we discover that we are actually worse off than before.

Not infrequently, this predicament comes about because we don't fully allow God to help push us out. Somewhere inside, we suspect that we ought to be perfect, or at least pretty darn good before we approach God. Otherwise, we might disappoint Him. This, of course, is reasoning backward. While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us to prove God's love for us.

Another problem one finds in trying to push cars out of snowdrifts is that the inexperienced driver is often too impatient to listen to what the Cheesehead has to offer (this failure, by the way, is more common to men). Several times I recall pleading with drivers not to 'gun it'; go forward a llliiittle bit, then rock it back, then forward a little father, and so on. What do they do? Vrrrrmmmm! And lo, they can hardly believe that they are actually dug in further! Meanwhile, the Cheesehead is trying to remain patient and explain that this isn't working.

Similarly, God offers us all kinds of helps. But they are humble, humbling, and often counter-intuitive for anyone who is used to figuring things out on his own. The result of our not wanting to rely on God is that our efforts that seem to have us 'almost there!' in fact are digging us deeper in; at root the particular sin is no longer the problem; the lack of faith and stubborn self-reliance are much more serious. Prayer, fasting, almsgiving and the sacraments: listen to the advice of our loving Father!

Finally: who is ultimately responsible when the car makes it out: the person at the wheel, or the person shouting instructions and pushing? Answer: both. So it is with nature and grace. We can't get out if God doesn't help, but we also can't get out if we fail to step on the gas when He says, "Go!"