it's been long enough, my friends

Monday, July 25, 2011

It has been quite some time since I have posted a blog entry here – well over a year.

That is long enough.

I cannot recall all of the original feelings and motivations I had for beginning this blog, in 2009.  Tonight, however, I have found fresh motivation for continuing my journal entries: my friends – two in particular.

The first: Teresa of Avila.  A Spanish mystic from the Sixteenth century, she wrote extensively on prayer.  I find her words both encouraging and discouraging.  I am encouraged to believe that the life of prayer, the journey towards union with God, is always possible – and it's always possible to go deeper.  There is a life that is deeper – much deeper – than what many people seem to be aware of, however well they paint or portray a life of faithfulness to God.  Deeper: much deeper – so much deeper!

Yet I can’t help but feel discouraged as well; how far I am from a deep life of prayer, a deep union with God – and how much more I have to go.  I feel like a child who refuses to give up his toys, those things he is attached to, and attracted to; a child who pouts at the loss of any trivial toy or thing that has stimulated any kind of temporary enjoyment in his measly life.

Still, reading the inspiring words of my friend Teresa, I have no doubt that life is worth living.  How deep life is, and how little I have barely begun to even feel the waters with the feet of my heart and soul.  Life is deep, and a life of prayer is deep – and my friend Teresa is constantly reminding me of this.  Thank you, my friend, my sister; thank you, Teresa.

The second: a beautiful friend I have known for almost six years.  Her faith – like that of Teresa – is inspiring.  It is clear to me that she is constantly thinking about her faith in God.  In a truly genuine and paradoxical way, she has expressed how much she wished to know God more, to have a better relationship with him.  Teresa felt the same – as did many of God’s saints.  Yet perhaps unbeknown to her, she is truly a light in the world, illuminating the reality of God's existence.  It is a paradox indeed: it reminds me of what another friend of mine, John of the Cross, has said: “Many individuals think they are not praying when, indeed, their prayer is deep.  Others place high value on their prayer while it amounts to little more than nothing.”

My friend’s prayer is - I can tell - deep.  Like Teresa, she inspires me to want to strive to be holy, to come closer to the Lord.  But the inspiration I feel coming from her floods my heart and soul more than Teresa.  She is a contemporary of mine, whereas Teresa is not.  She is my sister, striving for those deep waters of refreshment in prayer, as I am as well.

Thank you, my friend, my sister: I can't thank you enough.

Perhaps I will write more, and keep these entries contemporary, under the influence of my fresh sources of inspiration.

If God wills it.

In all sincerity,

Brian

a rich history

The inspired authors of the sacred Scriptures inspire us.  The authors of the New Testament were real people, who had direct encounters with God, in Jesus.  Their testimonies are awe-inspiring, and we love to read them.

Those manuscripts were originally composed many centuries ago; today, we live in a world that is far removed from them, and different in many aspects.  And as Christians, we realize how long ago it was that Jesus walked the earth with his apostles; we read about it again and again, and seek to draw inspiration from those encounters each time we open the sacred Scriptures.

However, I feel convinced about something that seems just as real to me today as Jesus must have been to those who walked and talked with him, centuries ago.  Those experiences have not been trapped in history, in those early formative years of Christianity and of the Church; I am convinced of this.  Even in the New Testament, we read about the overwhelming experiences and convictions of a man named Paul, who encountered Jesus some years after the time of his earthly ministry – when Jesus came to visit him, and offer him those graces, so to say, of his real presence.  What I feel convinced about is this: I do not think that Paul’s experience was the last of its kind in the heritage of our Christian history.

Our history is very rich with inspired authors who have also had experiences with the Lord; albeit they are not found in the sacred Scriptures, they are still nonetheless people who have had powerful experiences with the Lord.  I must admit: I find great comfort in knowing that even beyond the history of the early Church, and in practically every generation since that time, men and women who have been courageous models for holiness have sprung up, and inspired others.  Like Paul, who wrote with such conviction that each person really can have an authentic, personal encounter with Jesus, these men and women throughout history have spoken and written in the same way.

I must also admit: if Paul and the other apostles and evangelists of that early era of Christianity were the last to experience the Lord with such transforming conviction, and for the centuries since there has not been other examples, I would feel saddened by that.  But I don’t think that is true.  Such men and women, who have given their testimonies, and many who also laid down their lives like Paul and the other apostles, have also been known as mystics – those who knew the Lord in such personal ways that their convictions spilled over in their words, written down and spoken to all they encountered; they have done so, much like Paul and the other apostles did all those years ago.

One of my favorite authors, besides the inspired authors of the Bible, is John of the Cross, a friar from Spain who lived in the 1500’s, known today the world over as such a mystic.  Paul, too, was – I would say – a mystic, which is overwhelmingly evident in his writings.  John of the Cross is also, I would say, a mystic in like regard.  Recently, I read a book about John of the Cross life called ‘Spirit of Flame'.  The author – E.A. Peers – discusses how radically different the propositions that John of the Cross made for men and women who had sincere faith in Jesus.  The radical nature of John’s writings is so different than what perhaps many Christians today might expect.  His words were radical, much like Paul's were; here is what Peers wrote about John of the Cross:

“What, then, of the genuine follower of Christ, who has no previous acquaintance with mystical writings or experience of the life of contemplation?  It must be admitted that he, too, at first, has often scant sympathy with [John of the Cross’] teaching.  The [way of John of the Cross], it seems to him, conforms hardly at all with his idea of Christianity: it must be meant for quite different people.  To him being a Christian means the acceptance of certain beliefs; the practicing of them, so far as they lend themselves to practice; the attempt to lead a moral life and possibly also to exercise a good influence upon those with whom one comes into contact.  Anyone who does all that, in the general belief, does about as well as can be expected of him.  And here is John of the Cross writing of God as of someone who can actually be known, and expecting us to prepare to make His acquaintance (and in this life, too!).

“It all sounds completely unlike the sober Christianity of the Church, the Gospels and all the good people with whom we are acquainted; it is also so far from the conventional standards of mediocrity and moderation.”

The way of John of the Cross is not, at first, attractive; in fact, the way to union with God, he tells us, involves what he calls a “dark night of the spirit”.  That being said, it also rings authentic, especially in light of the words of the Master himself, who told us that we need to deny ourselves and take up our cross in order to follow him; Paul, too, would tell us similarly how we should not only believe in Christ, but should willingly suffer for him.  The terms and the language of John of the Cross, and the way of the “dark night”, touch upon those core principles of the Gospel.

how beautiful...

Today I read something, and learned something, beautiful.

As Christians, we learn and come to believe that it is only through Jesus that we can be restored to God's friendship, and become - once again - children of our Father.

But what does this mean, really?  It is easy to forget from time to time that Jesus was a man, a human being, like you and me.  Yes, he is God - but he is also human, in the deepest sense.  John Paul II observed: "God is behind man!  For God has become man!"  How mysterious this is, and how difficult to understand.  Is it true, John Paul, that - as you have said - "Jesus Christ is the human face of God, and the divine face of man"?

How mysterious indeed, this Incarnation of God; and yet how amazing, that God desires to share his Life and Spirit with us, in and through this Incarnation, this Word Made Flesh - Jesus.  One part of the Eucharist prayer makes this profound reality felt with these words: "By the mingling of this water and wine, may we come to share in the divinity of Christ, who humbled himself to share in our humanity."

How important it truly is, then, to remember this Incarnation.  Without it, we could not even be "Christians" - and what is worse: without the Incarnation, we could not have any hope to be restored to God's friendship, or to his Fatherhood.  The weight that rests on Jesus' shoulders, who was a man, speaks volumes to us, or at least it should.  It is also in Jesus that we come to see an objective form of true beauty, found in this man, who is also God.

Adam, a character in one of Karol Wotyla's plays (Our God's Brother), makes this discovery, and in turn has a reaction and a conversion that belongs to us all who by name call ourselves "Christian":

"You have toiled in every one of them.
You are deadly tired.
They have exhausted You.
This is called Charity.
But with all this You have remained beautiful.
The most beautiful of the sons of men.
Such beauty was never repeated again.
Oh what a difficult beauty, how hard.
Such beauty is called charity."

"how, lord?": the only way

Christianity is challenging.

And how do we know, Lord, if it is safe to follow you?  Christianity doesn't at all seem to be a "safe" religion. And why should we follow you anyway?

It is a radically different life, the one that Jesus’ proposes to us. In the end, it is the only way to live; in the end, it is the only way to have life – real life; eternal life.

But what does this radically different life look like for us? How are we to live, here and now, as Christians? How, Lord? Too many times have I failed at this, only to learn what I've already learned - and continue to re-learn: this radically different lifestyle is the what I've signed up for.  How difficult, how challenging indeed.

“Then he said to them all: "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will save it. What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, and yet lose or forfeit his very self? (Luke 9:22-24)”

“Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you. You have heard that it was said, 'Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I tell you: Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be sons of your Father in heaven (Matthew 5:42-44).”

“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another (John 13:34-35).”

Lord, these words – your words – are challenging! How much easier it is to not love others – especially enemies - in this world. Too easy, indeed.

I realized something today that I am constantly re-realizing, time and again. These things that Jesus commands of us; this lifestyle – the very path that leads to life, the one and only way – is impossible. Christianity is challenging, because it causes us to realize that it is impossible.We can't do it.

We need you, Lord. You knew it all along: We cannot follow you or live like you unless you give us yourself - which you have done! We cannot do anything you ask us, unless we have you do it in and through us. “You duped me, O Lord, and you let me be duped (Jeremiah 20:7).” 

And these words especially, Lord, pierce my heart:

“You brood of vipers, how can you who are evil say anything good? For out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks. The good man brings good things out of the good stored up in him, and the evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in him. But I tell you that men will have to give account on the day of judgment for every careless word they have spoken. For by your words you will be acquitted, and by your words you will be condemned (Matthew 12:34-37).”

Thank you, Lord, for doing what we cannot do, for loving how we cannot love.  It is you - always and only you - who makes this radically different lifestyle possible.  It is you, living this life in and through us.

In the end, there is no other way (cf. John 14:6).

swear to god: refreshing sacrament

Lately I’ve been reading about the Sacraments; one book in particular, Swear to God by Scott Hahn, has really shed some light on the meaning and biblical roots of the Sacraments.

Just the other night, I was reading a section in this book on the Sacrament of Marriage – and it really touched me. Hahn had made this Sacrament a little more real to me. His words are eloquent, and what touched me most of all was what he shared from his own heart, and his own lived experience with this Sacrament.

In essence, the Sacraments communicate the real presence of Jesus, but also more than that: they are “efficacious signs”, because they “affect graces” that are symbolized, therefore making them more than mere symbols. In all the Sacraments, it is Jesus Himself who is “acting”, and communicating his Life and his graces. The biblical roots are many, and they are deep. However, I wish to only speak of what touched me in what I read in Hahn’s book, particularly this section on Marriage.

Reflecting on his own marriage with his wife Kimberly, Hahn says this:

“Indeed, it was His name we invoked when we made our vows, His help Kimberly and I enlisted and His protection, for the sake of His promise. It is His presence that makes the covenant binding. Jesus Christ abides in our marriage, in a real way, for as long as we both shall live” (p. 185).

How beautiful! How Christocentric (Christ-centered). And how very much it ought to be, seeing as Marriage really is – in the end – all about Jesus. How beautiful indeed, to have a proper perspective on Marriage, receiving it as the gift it truly is, from Jesus Himself.

“Marriage is a sacrament not merely in some ethereal or abstract way,” Hahn writes: “It is a sacrament in the most complete, body-and-soul way possible” (p. 186). Speaking of his wife Kimberly, he continues: “She is a blessed sacrament to me, and an hour with her is an hour of prayer… In her I see, reflected, the love of the Holy Spirit and the reality of the Church. In our bodily union, I contemplate something of the communion of Christ with His own bride, the Church” (p. 186).

How refreshing, once again, to read such inspiring words – words that reflect the true nature of marriage, its sacramental nature. These are words that echo the ancient understanding that even Paul had, who saw in marriage a profound mystery, referring to the mysterious union of Christ with his bride the Church (see Ephesians 5:25-32).

“It is for me, and me alone, that Kimberly’s presence is a sacramental presence of Jesus Christ,” Hahn says (p. 187). Yet he also understands another fundamental truth about the Sacrament of Marriage that seems to be all but completely lost in our world today:

“It is not just an inward reality for couples only. Marriage is a sacrament of the Church, and it is an outward sign of any inward grace received by the couple. A married couple shows the world that God is faithful forever; that He is loving and merciful; that He is lavish in His fruitfulness; and much more, as well… [Marriage] will be a lasting statement to an unbelieving world that finds fidelity impossible to believe” (p. 187).

Hahn ends this section in his book by pointing out that marriage would not be a Sacrament if it were just symbolic in nature. This, too, seems to be a concept that is lost to the world, an “unbelieving world”. It seems evident that people who have not had genuine encounters with Jesus Christ in and through his Sacraments tend to seek other experiences to fill that void - a void that only Jesus can fill. Marriage then becomes trivialized, in a sense, and is brought down to the human level, catering only to those desired experiences that human beings long for. And this is understandable, for we are all made to be filled with life, and “to the full” (see John 10:10). If we aren’t filled with Jesus, we will inevitably seek fulfillment in other ways.

Why would marriage not be a Sacrament if it were just a symbol, as Hahn points out? Because marriage, as a Sacrament, contains the real presence of Jesus Christ (p. 187).

How beautiful.  How refreshing.

Jesus forgives us; thank you, Lord

I can understand how some well-intentioned Christians see the Sacrament of Reconciliation (sometimes referred to as Confession) as being a hindrance to receiving - and experiencing - the mercy and forgiveness of Jesus Christ.  I suspect this misunderstanding is due to a misunderstanding of the nature of the Sacraments.  Any sincere Christian would say that it is Jesus - and only Jesus - who forgives our sins.  This is a fundamental truth, and of paramount importance for any sincere Christian; it is of paramount importance, even for the whole world.

The Sacrament of Reconciliation is an experience of Jesus' forgiveness.  It is an experience meant to be had in a way that Jesus himself instituted.  After the Resurrection, Jesus breathed on his apostles - an event that conjures up an image of the "breath of God's life" given to the first man in the garden of Eden (see Genesis 2:7).  Then the Lord said to them, "Receive the Holy Spirit.  If you forgive anyone his sins, they are forgiven" (John 20:22-23).  His says this to them after commissioning them, telling them that he would send them forth in the world:

"As the Father has sent me, I am sending you" (John 20:21).

This is the history and the tradition of this Sacarment, coming from Jesus himself.  But for any and all sincere Christians, it should be emphasized that at bottom, it is always - and only - Jesus who can - and does - forgive all our sins.

Below is something I wrote recently in hope of illustrating this point; I'll just paste it.

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I think at bottom, all Christians believe that it is ultimately Jesus who forgives all our sins – and what is more: ONLY Jesus can forgive our sins.

We see instances throughout the Bible – particularly in Old Testament writings – that convey an image of “covering over” sins; but only Jesus has the power to “take them away”, as the Baptist must have known when he said, “Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world” (John 1:29).

This fundamental Truth of Christianity is not contradicted by telling/confessing sins to a priest. At bottom – and “to the depths” – it is always and only Jesus who forgives sins. Always. For without this Truth – nay, without Him and His Sacrifice, as our Passover (see 1 Corinthians 5:7) – we cannot be saved from our sins, much less our death.

-Brian

roots

My other blog, Christian (Catholic roots), is written from issues concerning faith, issues such as those concerning worship, biblical themes, even some doctrinal issues.  But here, for this blog (one dark night...), I wish to convey more of my personal and emotional responses to such issues and concerns related to the Christian life.

The Reformation became a source of division among Christians.  It has even become a source of division in my life as well, regarding my relationships with other Christians.  The roots of the Reformation go very deep.  Even today, the "core effect" of the Reformation is hard to deal with.  Sincere Protestants more-or-less view the Reformation as being a substantially positive facet of Christian history;  sincere Catholics, on the other hand, more-or-less view the Reformation as being a substantially negative facet of Christian history.

How can Christians become reconciled?  I am a Christian with Catholic roots, and I honestly believe that only Jesus can reconcile us all.  He is our source of Communion, of the Oneness he wishes for all of us; the Oneness that, in the end, only He can bring about (see John 17:11, 20-21).

How difficult it is, Lord, to have divisions.  It is - I would say - a tragedy.  You desire to gather Your People into One Fold; how much longer, Lord, will your be patient with us?  When, Oh Lord, will this finally be accomplished?