A Smaller, Purer Church?

 Fr. Ratzinger

 "It seems a good time to take a break from all the culture war stuff."  So I said in the introduction to my last post.  The Lord knows we could all use a break, and yet the hits keep on coming, don't they? Well, as that witty old atheist Leon Trotsky might have said, "You may not be interested in the Culture War, but the Culture War is interested in you".  The forces pushing culture war don't seem to feel the need for a break at all, and they're coming right at us.

     But the Culture War, you might recall, is only one front in the larger war.  In some earlier posts (here and here) I used the image of a pyramid to illustrate the different levels upon which our society is built, with politics the top (and least important), with culture underlying politics, and religion as the bottom level, the basis for the whole structure. I've touched previously on the political and cultural fronts of the war (which is, at root, a spiritual conflict); today we're going to look at the religious front . . .

[click here to continue reading at Spes in Domino]

Ireland, Post-Christianity and Eternity

     My, how the world has changed. The dust is still settling from the referendum in Ireland last week in which voters repealed the 8th Amendment to the Irish Constitution, which protected the right of unborn babies to live.  The outcome was a bitter disappointment, but not really a surprise.  Perhaps more surprising to many of us (although it ought not to have been: see below) was the margin of the pro-abortion victory: 67%-33%, a thunderous landslide. Ironically, the amendment was voted in by the same margin just 35 years ago, except in 1983 67% of Irish voters cast their ballots in favor of protecting unborn life. The dramatic reversal reminds me of the tune played by the British military bands when they surrendered to George Washington’s ragtag Continental Army at Yorktown: “The World Turned Upside Down.”

Crowd in Dublin cheers abolition of Irish pro-life amendment (AP)

    Clearly, much has changed in Ireland over the last three and a half decades, and there are certainly plenty of local factors that have played a role in the change.  I don’t believe, however, that the change is a purely Irish one, or even largely local. Despite a strong historical identification with Catholicism, the Emerald Isle has been following the same secularizing trend that has captured the rest of Western Europe.  According to research done by the Pew Center, only 37% percent of Irish attend religious services weekly or monthly; that’s better than any other Western European nation other than Italy, but it’s still well under half of the population (and it has been shown that oftentimes people are untruthful on this question, exaggerating church attendance figures). A larger figure, 41%, report they “seldom or never” go to church.  Only 19% pray daily, 24% believe in God “with absolute certainty”, and only 69% believe in God at all.

     The Irish are only marginally better, if at all, than other Europeans in these categories. We see similar trends in the United States, where, according to the Barna Group,

The pattern is indisputable: The younger the generation, the more post-Christian it is. Nearly half of Millennials (48%) qualify as post-Christian compared to two-fifths of Gen X-ers (40%), one-third of Boomers (35%) and one-quarter of Elders (28%).

     The entire western world is abandoning Christianity, and at a rapid rate. Needless to say, these changes carry some very concrete consequences. Pew also reports, for instance, that the higher the level of religious commitment, the more likely a person is to be involved with charitable organizations and, in fact, every sort of community group (except athletic ones).  Arthur Brooks details similar findings in the United States in his book Who Really Cares?  These numbers show that fewer believing Christians means less charitable giving, less involvement in charitable causes, less self-sacrifice for the good of others; in other words, if I may be blunt, a more selfish, self-centered society.  This de-Christianizing trend intensifies over time, because the more disconnected they are from any practice of religion, the harder it becomes for people to recognize even the largely material goods provided by the Church: Barna reports that

When the unchurched were asked to describe what they believe are the positive and negative contributions of Christianity in America, almost half (49%) could not identify a single favorable impact of the Christian community, while nearly two-fifths (37%) were unable to identify a negative impact.

Pew reports similar outcomes in Europe. This is despite the massive amount of wealth, material and effort Christians have put into helping the poor and disadvantaged over the past two millennia.

From The Phillip Medhurst Picture Torah

     Given all that, we should not be surprised that Christian moral teachings, particularly those that demand self-sacrifice or denial of powerful desires, are less popular than ever, and rapidly becoming less so.  From the very beginning of time the Tempter has been whispering in our ears that “You will be like God” (Genesis 3:5), if only we would give in to our desires, instead of following the path of self-denial.  How hard is it to resist him when we have no faith, or perhaps only a shallow faith, to fortify us?  How much harder now that the institutions that dominate our culture, which in the past reinforced morality, have today switched sides, and take Satan’s side in the debate (take note: every major political party in Ireland endorsed repeal of the 8th amendment)? Small wonder, then, that Pew's figures show the people of once Catholic Ireland favoring legal abortion by a margin of 66-30% (those who self-identify as “highly committed Christians” are the only group in which a majority opposes it).  Consequently, small wonder that Irish voters abolished the protection of unborn life by roughly the same margin.

     Well then, where does that leave us?  Am I saying that we are going to Hell in the proverbial handbasket?  Ultimately, no, as our Lord has promised us that “the gates of Hell will not prevail” against his Church (Matthew 16:17). “Prevail”, however, is statement about where things will end; a lot can happen in the meanwhile, not all of it good. The fact is that an enormous amount of damage can occur, to individual souls and to entire populations, before our wayward society comes to its senses.

     Very often it is the damage itself that helps bring about the change.  As St. Paul tells us, “We know that in everything God works for good with those who love him, who are called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:48). The familiar phrase “hitting rock bottom” applies here.  This is a very important concept in Alcoholics Anonymous and related 12 Step groups.  An alcoholic “hits rock bottom” when the damage and pain caused by his drinking become so severe and painful that he has to admit his life is beyond his control, and that he needs to turn to God to save him from his self-destructive desires.  Our culture, it would seem, needs to hit rock bottom before it begins to turn back to God.  Who can say how long that will take, or how many souls will be lost in the process?  I am painfully reminded of Adam Smith’s remark that “There is a great deal of ruin in a nation.”  We should also not forget that the followers of Muhammed are not standing idly by while what was once called  “Christendom” breaks itself to pieces.

     However that may be, formerly Catholic Ireland’s embrace of the abortion license is a sign of what is happening throughout the historic heart of the Christian world.  There is no longer a Catholic Ireland . . . there's no longer a "Catholic" anywhere in Europe or North America (with the possible exception of Poland, and that probably not for long).  Earlier this week I republished a blog post about a radio address delivered almost half a century ago by a German Theologian named Joseph Ratzinger (later to become Pope Benedict XVI).  Fr. Ratzinger foresaw a world slipping ever further into Godlessness.  In that increasingly hostile environment, Christ’s Church would become smaller - perhaps much smaller.  It would, at the same time, be a Church purified by adversity, more faithful to the Gospel, and more essential than ever:

We will have to count on terrific upheavals. But I am equally certain about what will remain at the end: not the Church of the political cult, which is dead already, but the Church of faith. She may well no longer be the dominant social power to the extent that she was until recently; but she will enjoy a fresh blossoming and be seen as man's home, where he will find life and hope beyond death.

That is increasingly the choice before us if we wish to follow Jesus Christ: a small, unfashionable, and even persecuted Church, one which “will make much bigger demands on the initiative of her individual members” than we might be used to, or be comfortable with.

     It is also clear that we will need to commit ourselves ever more faithfully to live lives worthy of our Lord.  Christ tells us,

"You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how shall its saltness be restored? It is no longer good for anything except to be thrown out and trodden under foot by men. (Matthew 5:13)

 Whatever else might have been happening, the failures of prominent Catholics in the Irish church played a role in the triumph of legal abortion there, a living example of how damaging “salt that has lost its taste” can be.  If hope to do any better ourselves, we will need to rely more than ever on the help Jesus Christ offers us in the sacramental life, because the world of the future will need the Church, more than it ever has, to be a “light to the nations” (Isaiah 49:6).

Zambians attending Mass (www.southworld.net)

     One bright spot I haven’t yet mentioned: while the historic heart of Christendom collapses, the faith still burns brightly on the periphery, particularly in Africa.  As Europe and North America increasingly revert to mission territory, I fully expect our brothers in Christ to the South will be there to help us find our way back.  However difficult things become, Christ will provide a way.  

     That, of course, is our brightest spot: the Salvation that Christ has promised, which is the foundation of Christian Hope.  Short term, the future looks grim, and we need to accept that and prepare ourselves for it. While the present defeat in Ireland is a stark sign of how far we have fallen, however,  it is not a reason for despair.  After all, the Lord has given his word:

There shall no more be anything accursed, but the throne of God and of the Lamb shall be in it, and his servants shall worship him; they shall see his face, and his name shall be on their foreheads. And night shall be no more; they need no light of lamp or sun, for the Lord God will be their light, and they shall reign for ever and ever. (Revelation 22:3-7)

Fr. Ratzinger's Prophecy

An earlier version of this Worth Revisiting post was first published 26 May 2014. To enjoy the work of other faithful Catholic bloggers see Worth Revisiting Wednesday, hosted by Elizabeth Reardon at theologyisaverb.com and Allison Gingras at reconciledtoyou.com.

Fr. Joseph Ratzinger, now Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI 

    I have often heard mention of an observation made by Joseph Ratzinger long before he became Pope Benedict XVI in which he anticipated a “smaller, purer church”.  I was reminded of the this remark last week as I was wrapping up my post on St. Julia of Corsica [here], and reflecting on the fact that we seem to need to suffer many smaller defeats on the way to enjoying Christ’s final victory over sin and death.  I was curious to find out exactly what the future Pope said, and when and where he said it.

     I found that the original statement came as the last of a series of addresses that Fr. Ratzinger, at that time a professor of Theology at the University of Tübingen, delivered over the radio in Germany in 1969 [I can no longer find the full text of Fr. Ratzinger's address online, but it is included in the book Faith and the Future, published by Ignatius Press].  His prophetic vision of a “smaller, purer Church” (someone else’s paraphrase, I think, because I don’t see that wording in the original text) was broadcast on Christmas day.  It makes interesting reading going on fifty years later.

     Fr. Ratzinger starts out saying that “The future of the Church can and will issue from those whose roots are deep and live from the pure fullness of their faith.”  Ah yes, a call to personal holiness: that sounds good. “It will not issue from those who accommodate themselves merely to the passing moment or from those who merely criticize others and assume that they themselves are infallible measuring rods . . .”  Hmmm, sounds like time for some self-examination.  “nor will it issue”, he says

from those who take the easier road, who sidestep the passion of faith, declaring false and obsolete, tyrannous and legalistic, all that makes demands upon men, that hurts them and compels them to sacrifice themselves. To put this more positively: The future of the Church, once again as always, will be reshaped by saints, by men, that is, whose minds probe deeper than the slogans of the day, who see more than others see, because their lives embrace a wider reality.

So far, so good.  The future of the Church lies with those who are ready to make a deep commitment to self-sacrifice, who aren’t looking for easy answers.  But how does this lead to a smaller Church?  He goes on to explain:

We have no need of a Church that celebrates the cult of action in political prayers. It is utterly superfluous. Therefore, it will destroy itself. What will remain is the Church of Jesus Christ, the Church that believes in the God who has become man and promises us life beyond death. The kind of priest who is no more than a social worker can be replaced by the psychotherapist and other specialists; but the priest who is no specialist; who does not stand on the sidelines, watching the game, giving official advice, but in the name of God places himself at the disposal of men, who is beside them in their sorrows, in their joys, in their hope and in their fear, such a priest will certainly be needed in the future.

In other words, the corporal works of mercy may be an essential part of Christianity, but they can’t be the sole or primary focus of the Church (“I’ll show you the faith that underlies my works” James 2:18), since there are secular agencies and individuals who can perform them just as well.  Who needs the Church, if you can get the same somewhere else?  The thing that only the Church can provide is the encounter with Jesus Christ through his sacraments.  Everything else, Fr. Ratzinger says, will be burned away, but much like the man St. Paul describes in 1 Corinthians 3:15, who “will suffer loss, though he himself will be saved, but only as through fire”, what remains will be pure metal:

From the crisis of today the Church of tomorrow will emerge - a Church that has lost much. She will become small and will have to start afresh more or less from the beginning. She will no longer be able to inhabit many of the edifices she built in prosperity. As the number of her adherents diminishes, so will she lose many of her social privileges. In contrast to an earlier age, she will be seen much more as a voluntary society, entered only by free decision. As a small society, she will make much bigger demands on the initiative of her individual members . . . But in all of the changes at which one might guess, the Church will find her essence afresh and with full conviction in that which was always at her center: faith in the triune God, in Jesus Christ, the Son of God made man, in the presence of the Spirit until the end of the world.

     This fire-tempered, more faithful Church, Fr.  Ratzinger says, will stand as a refuge for those driven to “horror” by the spiritual poverty of a now Godless world.

     The future Pope wraps up with a peroration that is both grim and hopeful:

And so it seems certain to me that the Church is facing very hard times. The real crisis has scarcely begun. We will have to count on terrific upheavals. But I am equally certain about what will remain at the end: not the Church of the political cult, which is dead already, but the Church of faith. She may well no longer be the dominant social power to the extent that she was until recently; but she will enjoy a fresh blossoming and be seen as man's home, where he will find life and hope beyond death.

It isn't easy to follow Christ's Standard

      Fr. Ratzinger’s “prophecy” can be misunderstood.  Some commentators seem to believe that he is advocating a much smaller Church.  Not so.  He is looking at the “Signs of the Times” and extrapolating from them, tempering his predictions with the knowledge that Christ has promised that the Gates of Hell will not prevail against his Church (see Matthew 16:17).  The past half century has certainly developed just as Fr. Ratzinger suggested it would.  Church attendance has fallen as the weakly committed no longer feel the social pressure to attend Mass, the number of priests has plummeted, and most religious orders have shrunk dramatically.  At the same time, religious orders grounded in a traditional understanding of the doctrines and disciplines of the Church are growing, and we have seen an explosion of lay evangelization unlike anything the world has seen in a long time.

    It seems to me that Fr. Ratzinger’s vision of the near future of the Church, much like Paul VI’s admonitions in Humanae Vitae [here], has been more than confirmed by events since, and should serve as a serious warning of what is to come.  Christ’s final victory is guaranteed, but individuals and whole nations can be lost before its consummation.  We all still need to choose whether we’ll follow Christ’s Battle Standard, or Satan’s.

What is a Hermeneutic of Suspicion, and Why Does It Matter?

An earlier version of this Worth Revisiting post was first published 15 October 2015 . To enjoy the work of other faithful Catholic bloggers see Worth Revisiting Wednesday, hosted by Elizabeth Reardon at theologyisaverb.com and Allison Gingras at reconciledtoyou.com.

What The Heck Is Hermeneutics?  

Back in my undergraduate days my college roommate took a class called "Hermeneutics". Not surprisingly, I couldn't help but ask, "What exactly is hermeneutics?" He explained that the word comes from the Greek verb ἑρμηνεύω (hermeneuo), "to interpret", and is related to the name of the god Hermes, bringer and interpreter of dreams. Hermeneutics, then, means interpretation, and when we speak of a hermeneutic we mean an interpretive framework through which we evaluate raw information. Even if we have never seen the term before, we all know the concept: if we say that someone "sees the world through rose colored glasses" we mean that they interpret reality through a hermeneutic of optimism, and a person who is always "under a dark cloud" employs a hermeneutic of pessimism. If we wish to use a more sophisticated example, we might say that someone resorts to a Marxist hermeneutic if they see everything through the lens of class struggle.

Hermes the Interpreter

    For most of us it seems a pretty esoteric word, and even if it's a part of our working vocabulary, it's probably not included in our everyday vocabulary.  Nonetheless, it's a handy term to have.  For instance, it gave Joseph Ratzinger (later Pope Benedict XVI) a very clear and precise way of summing up the the foundational error of both the "Spirit of Vatican II" progressives and the Lefebvrist ultra-traditionalists: both camps interpret the Second Vatican Council through a "hermeneutic of rupture", when the council should more properly be viewed through a "hermeneutic of continuity".  In other words, both groups operate with the assumption that Vatican II is a decisive break with the previous nineteen centuries of Catholic Tradition, the only difference being one group thinks that's a good thing, the other decidedly not.  Ratzinger was proposing that instead we should interpret the council with and through that Tradition.

The Hermeneutic of Suspicion

     A similar problem, one that can be found not only among die-hard progressives and rad trads, but also among many people who consider themselves "faithful Catholics, but . . ." (and in fact it's a temptation for all of us), is the "Hermeneutic of Suspicion". In other words, the default position that for any issue on which the Church takes a stance contrary to my preconceived ideas, political loyalties, the prevailing popular wisdom, or whatever else, She must convince me, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that my position is wrong and that her position is right.  This hermeneutic of suspicion is most conspicuously at play in the massive dissent from the traditional Catholic teaching on sexuality and family (which is not limited, by the way, to those who consider themselves "progressive").

    Am I saying that to be a good Catholic we need to stop thinking for ourselves, or "mindlessly" go along with the Church, as anti-Catholics are fond of telling us?  Not at all.   But nobody thinks and decides in a vacuum, we all need some basis for interpreting our world; "give me a place to stand", said Archimedes, "and I will move the world".  Being Catholic has always meant that we stand on the moral and metaphysical framework provided by Christ 's Church, and the Gospel as understood by that Church, not by the conventional wisdom or the prejudices of the cultural elite.

The Pillar and Foundation of Truth

    This demand that the Church must exhaustively prove to my satisfaction any teaching that does not correspond to my preferences before I believe seems to me to be the exact opposite of what has been normative throughout the history of the Church for those who consider themselves faithful Catholics.  St. Paul refers to “the church of the living God” as “the pillar and foundation of truth” (1 Tim. 3:15), and in another place he makes explicit where the believer is to stand in case of conflict between the Truth of God and the conventional wisdom:

           Let no one deceive himself. If any one among you considers himself wise in this age, let him become a fool so as to become wise.  For the wisdom of this world is foolishness in the eyes of God, for it is written: "He catches the wise in their own ruses," and again: "The Lord knows the thoughts of the wise, that they are vain."  (1 Cor. 3:18-20)

It was understood in the early Church, as well, where the authority to make final and binding decisions lay.  St. Augustine once said:

For already two councils on this question have been sent to the apostolic see; and replies have also come from there.  The cause is finished [causa finita est]; would that the error might be sometime finished also! (Sermon 131:10)

The expression causa finita est  comes from the practice of law; the modern expression that most closely corresponds is “case closed!”  To Augustine it seems a given that the replies from Rome have ended the discussion.

           More than a thousand years later St. Ignatius of Loyola is even more explicit in the Spiritual Exercises when he lists the rules “to have the true sentiment which we ought to have in the Church Militant”:  

Pope Paul III and St. Ignatius Loyola

To be right in everything, we ought always to hold that the white which I see, is black, if the Hierarchical Church so decides it, believing that between Christ our Lord, the Bridegroom, and the Church, His Bride, there is the same Spirit see which governs and directs us for the salvation of our souls. Because by the same Spirit and our Lord Who gave the ten Commandments, our holy Mother the Church is directed and governed.

                          

    St. Ignatius is not urging that Catholics leave their brain behind when they enter the Church: notice that he does not refer simply to white, but "the white which I see".  In other words, when it comes to fundamental categories (i.e., right and wrong), we need to trust the Church's judgment over our own, because she has been promised the guidance of the Holy Spirit, while we, as individuals, have not.

Every Man A Pope

    It really could not be any other way.  If we make ourselves the ultimate arbiters of truth instead of deferring to the Church, then the individual believer becomes, in effect, infallible, his or her own little Pope, the result of which could only be thousands upon thousands of little schisms; any sort of real communion becomes impossible.  In fact, that is exactly what we see among our separated brethren in the Protestant communities, whose separate denominations are now said to number in the thousands, a mere five hundred years after Luther nailed his ninety-five theses to the church door in Wittenberg.

    In the end, faith itself becomes an impossibility, if there is no Truth greater than my own personal "truth".  And if I’m the supreme judge, why do I need a church to teach me anything? For that matter, what use is religion at all, or a Divine Savior, if it’s up to me to determine whether there’s any sin from which to save me? Isn’t that the logical end-point of the Hermeneutic of Suspicion?  Just myself, closed in upon myself. That’s an awfully cold, lonely way to spend eternity; it brings to mind what St. Paul says: “Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?” (Romans 7:24).  Paul, of course, knows the answer: “Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!” (Romans 7:25).  Only Christ can save me from myself, I myself who “do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want” (Romans 7:19).  This same Christ has given His Church the power to bind and loose (Matthew 18:18); who am I, or any of us, to be its judge?

A Tale of Two Sundays: God's Love is Universal

This Throwback Thursday post was first published on Sept 5th 2015

The Universal Church

The Martyrdom of St. Ignatius of Antioch

   The word “catholic”, meaning “universal” (from greek κατά, “according to” and ὅλος, “the whole”) has been associated with the Christian Church almost from the beginning.  It’s first surviving written appearance is in the letters of St. Ignatius of Antioch, who was martyred in the year 107 A.D., less than eighty years after the death of Christ.  The matter-of-fact way in which he uses the term suggests that it was already familiar to his readers.  In chapter 8 of his letter to the Smyrnaeans, for instance, he says:

Let that celebration of the Eucharist be considered valid which is held under the bishop or anyone to whom he has committed it. Where the bishop appears, there let the people be, just as where Jesus Christ is, there is the Catholic Church.

The term initially was meant to identify the Church, along with all the doctrines and practices, that was authoritative for all Christians, as opposed to heresy, from the Greek αἵρεσις, “a choosing”.  A heretic was someone who chose only certain things from the Universal Church, while rejecting others, thus cutting himself off from the ecclesial body and the tradition established by Jesus Christ himself and handed on by his Apostles.

    We can also say that the Church is "catholic" in other senses as well.  It is “universal” in that it embraces the entire history of Christianity, for instance: not only the experiences of our forebears contained in Holy Scripture and the generations of believers since the Bible was codified, but also those believers themselves, who still participate in the life of the Church as members of the Church Suffering in Purgatory and the Church Triumphant in Heaven.

   The primary place in which those of us alive here on Earth (in the Church Militant) experience the catholicity of the Church is in the Holy Eucharist, where we are all joined to our One Lord by partaking in His Body and Blood (hence the term “Communion”).  I have suggested previously [here] that the use of Latin in the Western Church reinforced, in a very effective, concrete way, the reality of that communion, but it is the Mass itself (and really Christ through the Mass, particularly in the Eucharist) that unites us.  Whether we attend the Extraordinary form in Latin or the Ordinary form in any language you could name, we are participating in the One Sacrifice of Calvary, and also in the liturgy that unfolds eternally before the throne of God in Heaven.  I had a beautiful reminder of how the Mass can embody the catholicity of the Church over the past two Sundays, when I and my family celebrated the Eucharist away from our home parish.

At The VA Hospital

Togus VA Medical Center, Augusta, ME

    The first Mass was was at a Veterans Administration hospital, where every Sunday volunteers from the Knights of Columbus, along with their families, take turns bringing wheelchair-bound veterans to the Eucharistic celebration.  The veterans seemed to appreciate our company, and it was a very moving experience for us.  The Liturgy itself was inspirational as well, in spite of the unadorned, institutional blue cinder block walls of the non-denominational chapel.  There was only one tangible external detail, aside from the priest’s vestments, to remind us of the transcendent nature of what we were doing: father placed a crucifix in front of him on the altar, on which he fixed his gaze as he offered the Eucharistic Sacrifice.  Pope Benedict has recommended this practice in response to the criticism that the Mass versus populum (facing the people) gives the impression that priest and congregation are addressing each other, rather than together directing our prayers to God.  This is the first time, at least that I can recall, that I’ve seen a priest adopting Papa Benedetto’s simple expedient for orienting ourselves toward our Our Lord with this arrangement. The Gospel reading on this particular Sunday was the Bread of Life Discourse from John Chapter 6, and Father spoke eloquently on the True Presence of Christ in the Eucharist.  While he didn’t deal explicitly with our surroundings, our gratitude for God’s gift of his own body to us was all the more powerful for the testimony of the severely disabled men worshipping with us, who had also sacrificed their bodies for others.

At The College

The Chapel at Thomas More College

    This past weekend we attended a very different Mass at Thomas More College in Merrimack, New Hampshire.  It was a beautiful celebration of the Ordinary form, simple and understated but still incorporating many traditional details that brought to mind the timelessness of the Eucharistic Liturgy, and which helped to redirect our attention from ourselves to our Lord: celebration ad orientem, some of the prayers in Latin, an altar server holding a patten under the chin while we knelt for communion, etc. (for a fuller discussion, see my post here on a previous Mass, which was the same in most particulars).  On this occasion, the second reading was from the letter of James:

Religion that is pure and undefiled before God and the Father is this:

to care for orphans and widows in their affliction

and to keep oneself unstained by the world.

And Father accordingly spoke in his homily of the need for us to live out our faith, and particularly our obligation to make the love of Christ a reality in our lives.

God Is Love

The Crucifixion by Marco Palmezzano

    There is an interesting symmetry here: in the first Mass, with few external signs of the transcendent, and which many of us were attending for the purpose of “caring for” (as the Apostle James says) the hospital patients, the Gospel and the homily invited us to look beyond the here and now to Jesus Christ. In the second mass, where much loving attention was devoted to the external details that emphasize the reverence due to the Real Presence of the Second Person of the Trinity, we were asked to direct ourselves to the material needs of the less fortunate among us.  

    The common thread is love: Christ’s love in offering himself for us, our love for him as expressed in the reverence of our worship, and our love for each other as manifested in our care for others.  The Beloved Disciple tells us that “God is Love” (1 John 4:8), and Jesus himself says:

A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another; even as I have loved you, that you also love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another. (John 13:34-35)

Piety and Charity, then, aren’t opposites, or even separate: in fact, for followers of Jesus Christ they are inseparable, two sides of the same coin.  And we encounter them in every Mass, wherever it is offered, and whatever it looks like.  God’s Love is universal.