The Crucified God, Emmanuel Fully Revealed (Reprise)

Three months ago I did a reflection for my parish. I noted that all through Advent we sing Veni, Veni, Emmanuel and pray that God will really reveal Godself as Emmanuel, the God who is with us. I also noted that we may not always realize the depth of meaning captured in the name Emmanuel. We may not realize the degree of solidarity with us and the whole of creation it points to. There are several reasons here. First, we tend to use Emmanuel only during Advent and Christmastide, so we stop reflecting on the meaning or theological implications of the name. Secondly, we are used to thinking of a relatively impersonal God borrowed from Greek philosophy; he is omnipresent rather like air is present in our lives. He seems already to be "Emmanuel". And thirdly, we tend to forget that the word "reveal" does not only mean "to make known," but also "to make real in space and time." The God who is revealed in space and time as Emmanuel is the God who enters exhaustively into the circumstances and lives of his Creation and makes these part of his own life.

Thus, just as the Incarnation of the Word of God happens over the whole of Jesus' life and death and not merely with Jesus' conception or nativity, so too does God require the entire life and death of Jesus to achieve the degree of solidarity with us that makes him the Emmanuel he wills to be. There is a double "movement" involved here, the movement of descent and ascent, kenosis and theosis. Not only does God in Christ become implicated in the whole of human experience but in that same Christ God takes the whole of the human situation and experience into Godself. We talk about this by saying that through the Christ Event heaven and earth interpenetrate one another and one day will be all in all or, again, that "the Kingdom of God is at hand." John the Evangelist says it again and again with the language of mutual indwelling and union: "I am in him and he is in me," "he who sees me sees the one who sent me", "the Father and I are One." Paul affirms it in Romans 8 when he exults, "Nothing [at all in heaven or on earth] can separate us from the Love of God."

And so in Jesus' active ministry he companions us and heals us; he exorcises our demons, teaches, feeds, forgives and sanctifies us. He is mentor and brother and Lord. He bears our stupidities and fear, our misunderstandings, resistance, and even our hostility and betrayals. But the revelation of God as Emmanuel means much more besides; as we move into the Triduum we begin to celebrate the exhaustive revelation, the exhaustive realization of an eternally-willed solidarity with us whose extent we can hardly imagine. In Christ and especially in his passion and death God comes to us in the unexpected and even the unacceptable place. Three dimensions of the cross especially allow us to see the depth of solidarity with us our God embraces in Christ: failure, suffering unto death, and lostness or godforsakenness. Together they reveal our God as Emmanuel --- the one who is with us as the one from whom nothing can ever ultimately separate us because in Christ those things become part of God's own life.

Jesus comes to the cross having failed in his mission. Had he succeeded there would have been no betrayal, no trial, no torture and no crucifixion. But Jesus remains open to God and trusts in his capacity to redeem any failure; thus even failure can serve the Kingdom of God. Jesus suffers to the point of death and suffers more profoundly than any person in history we can name --- not because he hurt more profoundly than others but because he was more vulnerable to it and chose to embrace that vulnerability without mitigation. Suffering per se is not salvific, but Jesus' openness and responsiveness to God in the face of suffering is. Thus, suffering even unto death is transformed into a potential sacrament of God's presence. Finally, Jesus suffers the lostness of godforsakenness or abandonment by God --- the ultimate separation from God due to sin. This is the meaning of not just death but death on a cross. In this death Jesus again remains open to the God who reveals himself most exhaustively as Emmanuel and takes even the lostness of sin into himself and makes it his own. After all, as the NT reminds us, it is the sick and lost for whom God in Christ comes.

As I noted back in January, John C. Dwyer, my major Theology professor for BA and MA work back in the 1970's described God's revelation of self on the cross (God's making himself known and personally present even in those places from whence we exclude him) --- the exhaustive coming of God as Emmanuel --- in this way:

[[Through Jesus, the broken being of the world enters the personal life of the everlasting God, and this God shares in the broken being of the world. God is eternally committed to this world, and this commitment becomes full and final in his personal presence within this weak and broken man on the cross. In him the eternal one takes our destiny upon himself --- a destiny of estrangement, separation, meaninglessness, and despair. But at this moment the emptiness and alienation that mar and mark the human situation become once and for all, in time and eternity, the ways of God. God is with this broken man in suffering and in failure, in darkness and at the edge of despair, and for this reason suffering and failure, darkness and hopelessness will never again be signs of the separation of man from God. God identifies himself with the man on the cross, and for this reason everything we think of as manifesting the absence of God will, for the rest of time, be capable of manifesting his presence --- up to and including death itself.]]

He continues,

[[Jesus is rejected and his mission fails, but God participates in this failure, so that failure itself can become a vehicle of his presence, his being here for us. Jesus is weak, but his weakness is God's own, and so weakness itself can be something to glory in. Jesus' death exposes the weakness and insecurity of our situation, but God made them his own; at the end of the road, where abandonment is total and all the props are gone, he is there. At the moment when an abyss yawns beneath the shaken foundations of the world and self, God is there in the depths, and the abyss becomes a ground. Because God was in this broken man who died on the cross, although our hold on existence is fragile, and although we walk in the shadow of death all the days of our lives, and although we live under the spell of a nameless dread against which we can do nothing, the message of the cross is good news indeed: rejoice in your fragility and weakness; rejoice even in that nameless dread because God has been there and nothing can separate you from him. It has all been conquered, not by any power in the world or in yourself, but by God. When God takes death into himself it means not the end of God but the end of death.]] Dwyer, John C., Son of Man Son of God, a New Language for Faith, p 182-183.

Easter Vigil: Exultet

I had never heard this hymn done with simple guitar accompaniment, but I really like it!! Also wonderful. The modal harmonies are really striking!!!

Holy Saturday: Jesus' Revelation of God Continues into the Depths of Godlessness

 When Miraculous Healings and Exorcisms are not Enough:

 Yesterday, in Madman or Messiah?) I reflected on how the darkness closed in on Jesus. Just as Judas had betrayed him and left the Passover Supper (our Holy Thursday), when things could hardly get darker or Jesus be more dishonored, Jesus cries out in a kind of exultation, "Now the Son of Man is glorified, and in him is glorified the One who sent him!"  Is he a madman or the messiah? On Good Friday, that question was sharpened; the darkness deepened, shame was heightened to unimaginable levels, and sinful death claimed Jesus. My point there was the Lord's work was not accomplished in miracles, or preaching, or exorcisms --- as important symbols of God's Reign as those were. In each case darkness and godlessness eclipsed these works of Jesus. In each case Jesus failed to bring the Kingdom of God in a final victory. The destruction of sin and evil had to occur at a much more profound level.

On Good Friday and Holy Saturday, when death seems to have the last word and swallows the Incarnate Word of God in a long and impenetrable silence, Jesus' work continues in the most profound solitude. Obedient (open and responsive to God) even to the point of godless death, Jesus' love creates an opening for God's entrance into the kingdom of sin, darkness, and death. Obedient unto death on a cross Jesus implicates the Love-in-act we call God into this very realm and thus, forever transforms it and our entire world. From another perspective we can say that through the obedient work of Christ, God takes godless death into himself and is not destroyed by it. Instead, the world is remade, a New Creation is accomplished. This is the work of Good Friday and Holy Saturday. At its heart is the revelation of God's love, not merely a demonstration of its reality and extent, but a making it real in the unexpected and even the completely unacceptable place --- even in the depths of godlessness.

The Depths of God's Love are Made Real in the Godless Place:

During Holy week we recall and celebrate the central events of our faith which reveal just how deep and incontrovertible is God's love for us. It is the climax of a story of "self-emptying" on God's part begun in creation and completed in the events of the cross. In Christ, and especially through his openness and responsiveness (i.e., his obedience) to the One he calls Abba, God enters exhaustively into every aspect of our human existence and in no way spares himself the cost of such solidarity. Here God is revealed as an unremitting Love which pursues us without pause or limit. Even our sinfulness cannot diminish or ultimately confound this love. Nothing – the gospel proclaims -- will keep God from embracing and bringing us “home” to Himself. As the Scriptures remind us, our God loves us with a love that is “stronger than death." It is a love from which, “Neither death nor life, nor powers nor principalities, nor heights nor depths, nor anything at all” can ultimately separate us! (Romans 8)

It is only against this New Testament background that we make ultimate sense of the article of the Apostles’ Creed known as Jesus’ “descent into hell”. Hell (originally Sheol or Hades, but not identical with these in more contemporary usage) is, after all, not the creation of an offended God designed to punish us; it is a state of ultimate emptiness, inhumanity, loneliness, and lovelessness which is created, sustained, and exacerbated by every choice we make to shut God out --- to live, and therefore to die, without Love itself. Hell is the fullest expression of the alienation which exists between human beings and God. As Benedict XVI writes, it is that “abyss of absolute loneliness” which “can no longer be penetrated by the word of another” and “into which love can no longer advance.” And yet, in Christ God himself will advance into this abyss and transform it with his presence. Through the sinful death of God’s Son, Love will become present even here.

To say that Christ died what the New Testament refers to as sinful, godless, “eternal”, or “second death” is to say that through his passion Jesus entered this abyss and bore the full weight of human isolation and Divine abandonment. In this abject loneliness and hopelessness --- a hell deeper than anyone has ever known before or will ever know again --- Christ, though completely powerless to act on his own, remains open and potentially responsive to God. This openness provides God with a way into this state or place from which he is otherwise excluded. In Christ godforsakenness becomes the good soil out of which the fullness of resurrection life springs. As a result, neither sin nor death will ever have the final word or be a final silence! God will not and has not permitted it!

The credal article affirming Jesus’ descent into hell was born not from the church’s concern with the punishing wrath of God, but from her profound appreciation of the depth of God’s love for us and the lengths to which God would go to redeem us. What seems at first to be an unreservedly dark affirmation, meant mainly to terrify and chasten with foreboding, is instead the church's most paradoxical statement of the gospel of God’s prodigal love. It is a stark symbol of what it costs God to destroy that which separates us from Love and bring us to abundant Life. It says that forgiveness is not about God changing his mind about us – much less having his anger appeased or his honor restored through his Son’s suffering and death. Instead, it is God’s steadfast refusal to let the alienation of sin stand eternally. In reconciling us to himself, God asserts his Lordship precisely in refusing to allow enmity and alienation to remain as lasting realities in our lives or world.

Madman or Messiah? On this Day We Wait in the Darkness (Reprised)

I admit that a pet peeve of mine associated with celebrating the Triduum in a parish setting is the inadequate way folks handle what should be periods of silence after Holy Thursday's Mass and reservation of the Eucharist and the stations and celebration of Jesus' passion on Good Friday. Unnecessary conversations, hearty and premature wishes of "Happy Easter" in the sacristy or upon leaving the Church and parking lot immediately after the Passion drive me more than a little crazy --- not only because we have only just celebrated the death of Jesus, but because there is a significant period of grief and uncertainty that we call Holy Saturday still standing between Jesus' death and his resurrection.

Silence is appropriate during these times; Easter is still distant. Allowing ourselves to live with something of the terrible disappointment and critical questions Jesus' disciples experienced as their entire world collapsed is a significant piece of coming to understand why we call today "Good" and tomorrow "Holy." It is important to appreciating the meaning of this three day liturgy we call Triduum and a dimension of coming to genuine and deepening hope. I have often thought the Church could do better with its celebration of Holy Saturday, but spending some time waiting and reflecting on who we would be (not to mention who God would be!) had Jesus stayed good and dead is something Good Friday (essentially beginning after Holy Thursday Mass) and Holy Saturday (beginning the evening after the passion) call for.

In trying to explain the Cross, Paul once said, "Where sin increased, grace abounded all the more." During Holy Week, the Gospel readings focus us on the first part of Paul's statement. Sin has increased to an extraordinary extent and the one people touted as the Son of God has been executed as a blaspheming godforsaken criminal. We watched the darkness and the threat to his life grow and cast the whole of Jesus' life into question.

In the Gospel for last Wednesday we heard John's version of the story of Judas' betrayal of Jesus and the prediction of Peter's denials as well. For weeks before this we had been hearing stories of a growing darkness and threat centered on the person of Jesus. Pharisees and Scribes were irritated and angry with Jesus at the facile way he broke Sabbath rules or his easy communion with and forgiveness of sinners. That he spoke with an authority the people recognized as new and surpassing theirs was also problematical. Family and disciples failed to understand him, thought him crazy, urged him to go to Jerusalem to work wonders and become famous.

Even his miracles were disquieting, not only because they increased the negative reaction of the religious leadership and the fear of the Romans as the darkness and threat continued to grow alongside them, but because Jesus himself seems to give us the sense that they are insufficient  and lead to misunderstandings and distortions of who he is or what he is really about. "Be silent!" we often hear him say. "Tell no one about this!" he instructs in the face of the increasing threat to his life. Futile instructions, of course, and, as those healed proclaim the wonders of God's grace in their lives, the darkness and threat to Jesus grows; The night comes ever nearer and we know that if evil is to be defeated, it must occur on a much more profound level than even thousands of such miracles.

In the last two weeks of Lent, the readings give us the sense that the last nine months of Jesus' life and active ministry were punctuated by retreat to a variety of safe houses as the priestly aristocracy actively looked for ways to kill him. He attended festivals in secret and the threat of stoning recurred again and again. Yet, inexplicably "He slipped away" we are told or, "They were unable to find an opening." The darkness is held at bay, barely. It is held in check by the love of the people surrounding Jesus. Barely. And in the last safe house on the eve of Passover as darkness closes in on every side Jesus celebrated a final Eucharist with his friends and disciples. He washed their feet, reclined at table with them like free men did. And yet, profoundly troubled, Jesus spoke of his impending betrayal by Judas. None of the disciples, not even the beloved disciple understood what was happening. There is one last chance for Judas to change his mind as Jesus hands him a morsel of bread in friendship and love. God's covenant faithfulness is maintained.

But Satan enters Judas' heart and a friend of Jesus becomes his accuser --- the meaning of the term Satan here --- and the darkness enters this last safe house of light and friendship, faith and fellowship. It was night, John says. It was night. Judas' heart is the opening needed for the threatening darkness to engulf this place and Jesus as well. The prediction of Peter's denials tells us this "night" will get darker and colder and more empty yet.  But in John's story, when everything is at its darkest and lowest, Jesus exclaims in a kind of victory cry: [[ Now the Son of Man is glorified, and God is glorified in him!]] Here as darkness envelopes everything, Jesus exults that authentically human being is revealed, made known and made real in space and time; here, in the midst of  the deepening "Night" God too is revealed and made fully known and real in space and time. This victory cry of Jesus is either the cry of a messiah who will embrace and overcome evil right at its heart --- or the cry of a madman who cannot recognize or admit the victory of evil as it swallows him up. In the midst of these days of death and vigil, we do not really know which. On the third day of these three days we call Triduum we will see what the answer is.

Today, the Friday we call "Good," the darkness intensified. During the night Jesus was arrested and "tried" by the Sanhedrin with the help of false witnesses, desertion by his disciples, and Judas' betrayal. Today he was brought before the Romans, tried, found innocent, flogged in an attempt at political appeasement and then handed over anyway to those who would kill him, by a fearful self-absorbed leader whose greater concern was for his own position and power. There was betrayal, of consciences, of friendships, of discipleship and covenantal bonds on every side but God's. The night continued to deepen and the threat could not be greater.  Jesus was crucified and eventually cried out his experience of abandonment even by God. He descended into the ultimate godlessness, loneliness, and powerlessness we call hell. The darkness became almost total. We ourselves can see nothing else. That is where Good Friday and Holy Saturday leave us.

And the question these events raises haunts the night and our own minds and hearts: namely, messiah or madman? Is Jesus simply another person crushed by the cold, emptiness, and darkness of evil --- good and wondrous though his own works were? (cf Gospel for last Friday: John 10:31-42.) Is this darkness and emptiness the whole of the reality in which we live? Was Jesus' preaching of the reality of God's reign and his trust in God in vain? Is the God he proclaimed, the God in whom we also trust incapable of redeeming failure, sin and death --- even to the point of absolute lostness? Does he consign sinners to these without real hope because God's justice differs from his mercy? The questions associated with Jesus' death on the Cross multiply and we Christians wait in the darkness today and tomorrow. We fast and pray and try to hold onto hope that the one we called messiah, teacher, friend, beloved,  brother and Lord, was not simply deluded --- or worse --- and that we Christians are not, as Paul puts the matter, the greatest fools of all.

We have seen sin increase to immeasurable degrees; and though we do not see how it is possible we would like to think that Paul was right and that grace will abound all the more. But on this day we call "good" and on the Saturday we call "holy" we wait. Bereft, but hopeful, we wait.

Let's Go Forth and Blaspheme as Jesus Did!!!

Friday's Communion service here at St P's helped move us into Holy Week and where I would ordinarily end the service with the invitation to [[. . . go forth and love our world into wholeness!]] I added, [[Let's go forth and do some blasphemy!!]] And, because of the day's Gospel reading I was deadly serious in this. What do I mean?

When John the Baptist's disciples approached Jesus on John's behalf they did so with the question, [[Are you the One, or are we to await another?]] Jesus' answer was powerful. He did not claim to be God or the Messiah, or even the Son of God. Instead, he sent John's disciples back with the instruction to "tell John what you see," and citing Isaiah, he continues, [[ the blind regain their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, the poor have the good news proclaimed to them. And blessed is the one who takes no offence at me”.]] In other words, in Jesus, all the promises of God are fulfilled in their sight and hearing. Jesus does not claim to be God, much less the Second Person of the Trinity; he points instead to his works, works which only the power of God can do --- and some believe while others, who cannot see as Jesus calls them to see, do indeed take offense at Jesus.

Those who do take offense, point not to all the promises of God that are fulfilled in Jesus or the ways in which God's littlest and least are brought back into the intimacy of God's own life and People, but instead to what the leaders of this People call blasphemy. Jesus has identified himself as God's Son and made it clear that he acts in unity with the Father -- that is, he acts in the very power and presence of God. This is the essence of authentic humanity, namely, to be a person for others in the powerful love of God. More, Jesus does for the poor and marginalized precisely what the Jewish leaders are supposed to be doing and are not! Jesus says as much when he cites Psalm 82 to those who accuse him in this way: [[ Is it not said in your Scriptures, [I say to you, you are gods; you are all sons (and daughters) of the Most High]?]] In citing this passage of psalm 82, Jesus is reminding the religious leaders who take offense at him of who they really are, who they are called by God to be, and the works they themselves are supposed to doing for God's anawim. Psalm 82 refers to human beings alive with the power and presence of God in a way which makes them all they were called to be, men and women who do God's own justice in this world.

Jesus' claim is shocking to us and was shocking to those who were trying to stone him. We may avoid this line of the gospel reading thinking it is some sort of new age reference or something. But remember that psalm 82, with its reference to human beings as gods , and Jesus' use of the term "Son of God", would not and could not, in fact, have meant "Second Person of the Trinity". That theology developed centuries later as the Church grappled with Jesus' true identity and relationship to the One he reveals in space and time as "Abba". In the New Testament Jesus does the works that show who he is and who sent (consecrated and commissioned) him to fulfill the promises of Isaiah and the whole of the Old Testament. He is, in his true and exhaustive humanity, entirely transparent to the God who completes and makes him a man for others. The irony of Friday's gospel reading, is that Jesus was not being accused of blasphemy because he claimed to be God! He was accused of blasphemy because he claimed to be truly and fully human!! And he called and is calling us to the very same vocation!  Moreover, in accusing Jesus of blasphemy for fulfilling the promises of God, the religious leaders of his time also condemn themselves -- for they are the very ones whose failure is marked in Ps 82.

We human beings are each and all called to do God's justice in this world, to let the blind see, the deaf hear, the lame walk; to make lepers clean and to proclaim God's good news to the poor. Or, in the language of the Psalm, we must "defend the weak and fatherless, uphold the cause of the poor and oppressed, rescue the weak and needy, and deliver them from the hands of the wicked.]" We can only do all of this with the power and presence of God pouring through us to the rest of God's creation. We can only do that, in other words, to the extent we allow ourselves to be entirely transparent to the God of Life. And yes, many will take offense. We will hear cries of, letting the poor become a drain on society, replacing real justice with a toothless and incomplete mercy, and so forth. People will indeed take offense at us. Some may well call us blasphemous in mediating God's forgiveness and love to the least and littlest in our society. And this is who we are called to be.  Again, Jesus was not being accused of blasphemy because he claimed to be God! He was accused of blasphemy because he claimed to be truly and fully human!! 

Following our vocations to authentic and full humanity may, in fact, get us crucified --- in whatever way our contemporary world chooses to do that --- but the choice to be fully and authentically human through the power and presence of God is the one Jesus made at Gethsemane, and it is certainly the one we are being asked to make as we enter more fully into Holy Week, the very heart of our faith, and the week where, on Good Friday Jesus exhaustively revealed (made known, and also, made real in space and time) who God is, who we are, and what God wants us to be about. My prayers for all of us as we enter into our celebrations for this holiest of weeks. As I prayed last Friday at the end of the service as we were sent forth to love our world into wholeness, [[ Let's go forth and (in Christ) blaspheme as he did]]!! Amen.

Death as the Last Enemy: On the Relationship of God to Death (Reprise)

[[Dear Sister, I read something you wrote about God not willing the torture and death of Jesus. (I'm sorry for being vague here; I can't cut and paste from your blog.) That was not what I was taught. In fact, I was told when at different times two of my children died of serious illness that God "had taken them" and also was reminded that I should not be angry with God because after all, "he had not spared his only begotten Son." Are you saying that God does not will our deaths either? That God did not take my daughters from me? And if God did not do this, then where are my children? What hope do any of us have??!!]]

First, I am terribly sorry for your loss!! Please know I will hold you in my own heart and prayer. Meanwhile, yes, I have written that Jesus' torture and death by crucifixion were not willed by God; these were inhuman acts dreamt up and made as sophisticated and ingenious a way of killing someone in horrendous torture --- i.e., in as unspeakable degradation, pain, and shame, as was (in)humanly possible. The first thing I think we must accept is that our God is a God of love and life and that, as Paul tells us, death is the last enemy to be brought under God's feet (1Cor 15:25-26). What God is is Love-in-Act and what God wills is life, abundant, integral life in dialogue and union with Himself. He does not will the death of anyone, including his only begotten Son. 

The second thing we must see and embrace then, is a somewhat different way of understanding Jesus' prayer and God's silence in the Garden of Gethsemane. Remember that there Jesus prays three times that his Abba allow this cup to pass him by. He does not pray that the cup not be given him by his Abba, but that God would remove it if possible. It is possible here to hear Jesus struggling in the presence of the One he loves and is loved by  best --- the One who always hears him --- to find another way forward, another way to live his life and vocation with integrity without running headfirst into the powers that will kill him --- and this includes not only the religious and political authorities, but the powers of sin and death as well. But God does not remove or take from Jesus the cup of integrity --- the cup of a life lived with integrity in dialogue with God for the sake of others and drunk to its very dregs. 

Does God will Jesus' horrendous and shameful death by torture and/or crucifixion? No. We can't accept he does nor does any text say this specifically is the will of God. To believe it is the will of God is to accept as well that those who betrayed, rejected, lied about, abandoned, spat upon, tortured, and executed Jesus were fully cooperating with the will of God. That is simply impossible, and if true, would give us a God few of us could believe in or trust. Where is the "good news" in that? To struggle in the way Jesus does in Gethsemane is to engage with God in order to come to terms with God's actual will; here Jesus struggles to come to clarity about and embrace fully what it means to live one's life and vocation with complete and exhaustive integrity --- especially when that life/vocation is defined in terms of dialogue with and complete dependence upon God. Jesus' life certainly is about this and our own lives are meant to be the same. It is not Jesus' torture and death that God wills but his absolute integrity and exhaustively authentic God-dependent humanity. This is the cup God cannot, and will not remove from him.

In Jesus' passion, we must learn to tease apart the things that are of man, and especially of man's inhumanity versus what is authentically human, and those which are truly of God or are the will of God. What I find of God in the crucifixion is the affirmation and reassurance that God, the One Jesus calls Abba, does not despise even the most godless of situations, places, persons, and events. Our God is the one is who absolutely determined to be found in the unexpected and even the unacceptable place. Jesus, precisely as truly and authentically human, reveals this God to us and in the power of the Holy Spirit lives his life and speaks truth to power in a way which means that God does not despise the godless places in our lives; they are, in fact, the places God chooses to reveal his love and mercy most exhaustively.

Regarding the things of mankind, there are two aspects we must be able to see in Jesus' passion and death: first, there are the inhuman or less than truly human actions and attitudes of most of the actors in the narrative. These have to do with all the things I mentioned above in the second paragraph and several more besides -- the hunger for power and the correlative thirst for control at the expense of others, the fear associated with life in such a society for those who are diminished, oppressed, and exploited, the tendency to join in when a mob yells angry, bloodthirsty, and thoughtless slogans because otherwise we feel powerless, have no true sense of ourselves or of  genuinely belonging, and believe we can achieve these things by joining ourselves to such groups even when that leads us to harm others. All of these tend to dehumanize us. The instances of inhuman and dehumanizing behavior and attitudes in the passion narratives are legion. 

Secondly, there are examples of true or authentic humanity, human humility, integrity, faithfulness, generosity, and courage. Jesus is the primary exemplar here, but the beloved disciple, Jesus' Mother, and a few other women along with Joseph of Arimathea and the Centurion who proclaims Jesus the Christ/ Son of God are also participants modeling some of these virtues and dimensions of authentic humanity. What is especially true of authentic humanity is the way it is entirely transparent to God --- something I believe Catholic Christological dogma tried to express in the non-paradoxical language of hypostases, etc. So, the more truly human one is, the more transparent to God. And because this is so, when we see Jesus' helplessness, weakness, shame, brokenness, and so forth, we should also be able to see the paradoxical power of love that does not despise weakness, brokenness, or anything else that might once have been a sign of God's disfavor and absence. Instead, in the crucified Christ God makes these his own and there on the cross heaven and earth are drawn together in the very heart of Jesus precisely as crucified. (cf., 2 Cor 12:8-9 "My grace is sufficient for you, my power is made perfect in weakness.")

The Good News of the Cross

For purposes of this essay, again, it is critically important to remember that death is not some sort of weapon God wields to punish, but again, is an event linked consequentially to estrangement and alienation from God, self, and others.  As noted above, it, along with Sin, is a power or principality which is a consequence of human sinfulness which Paul identifies as the last enemy to be put under the feet of God. It is imperative that we understand death, and especially what the NT calls "eternal death,"  "sinful death," or again, "godless death," as something linked to sinfulness with which God contends. God does this throughout the history of Israel's struggle against idolatry and he does it in Jesus' miracles, exorcisms, and in every other choice for life and love which Jesus makes on God's and others' behalf.  

What Paul also tells us is that the cross is precisely the place where God's ultimate victory over the powers of sin and death is won. It is the place where humans beings do their worst to an innocent other and it is a place where authentic humanity is made definitively real in space and time in Jesus in spite of the very worst human beings can do and experience. Finally, it is the place where God's love is revealed in its greatest depth and breadth; here we see God revealed definitively (i.e., made definitively real and known in space and time) as the One who will not allow sin  or death to have the final word or be the final scream or silence. Here on the cross Jesus remains obedient (that is, open and attentive) to the God who wills to be present to, with, and for us without condition or limit. In other words here on the cross heaven and earth come together as God has always willed. Paul says it this way: [[Very rarely will someone give his life for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare to die. But God proves his love for us in this: While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us,]] and again, [[God was in Christ, drawing all [creation] to Himself,]] and too, [[Jesus, the Christ was obedient unto death, even (godless, sinful) death on a cross."]] In all of this God is at work bringing a new heaven and new earth into existence where God will be all in all. More, God does this for us so that, as my major theology professor used to put it, human beings might "live in joy and die in peace."

Your Questions:

So, with all of that as background, let me try to respond to your questions more directly.  Yes, in light of this theology of the cross I am saying that God does not will Jesus' death or the death of any other person. Our God, the God and Abba of Jesus wills life --- full and abundant life, not death. He wills that Jesus live his life with integrity and that he bring God's love to the whole sweep of human existence, every moment and mood of it. This is Jesus' vocation and the way he proclaims the coming of the Reign of God. He wills that Jesus oppose Sin -- that state of estrangement and alienation that occurs whenever human beings fall short of their truest humanity and choose idols instead of God. But death itself is not "of God" and godless, final, or eternal death, even less so. The truth is that while death invariably intervenes in and destroys life in a bewildering variety of ways, God in/through Christ and his cross intervenes in death and brings eternal life, meaning, and hope out of that. Tragically, Death did indeed take your daughters, but in Christ God has taken death into himself and transformed it entirely with his own presence, life, and love. In so doing he rescues your daughters from death and welcomes them into his own very life. The hope this makes possible extends to all of us in Christ.

Your children are well and entirely safe in God as well --- not because God took them from you, but because he rescued them from the "one" who did. That is the hope that we all share because while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us all. God in Christ loves us so exhaustively and effectively that he will allow nothing to stand in the way of this love, not sin or death, not anything created or supernatural. We are made for God and nothing at all can prevent us from reaching that goal. Again, to quote Paul, [[Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or distress or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? No. . .For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor principalities, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.]] (Romans 8: 35-39)

I sincerely hope this is helpful! It is meant not only for you but for any who have been taught some version of God using death as "punishment" or, when this doesn't fit the context, that he "calls us home" by causing our death. God calls us to himself, always and everywhere, including in our godlessness and relative inhumanity, but death is not his weapon or instrument in this; rather it is the enemy that he vanquishes in Jesus' own obedient (open to God) death.

Are Consecrated Virgins Alone Brides of Christ?

[[Sister Laurel, I saw a longish post from you on Facebook in which you claimed that religious are, properly speaking, Brides of Christ. You argued your position with Therese Ivers, a canonist and Consecrated Virgin whose position is that only Consecrated Virgins are Brides of Christ in a proper sense. Have you posted about this here? If not, I wondered if you would. Thank you!]]

Yes, I have definitely written about this in the past, but not for some time. I noted a post from Ms Ivers which came to my email from Facebook and decided this time to respond because of a specific line in Therese's post. She wrote: [[Religious, be proud of your identity. Sacred virgins, be proud of your identity. Those who belong to secular/religious institutes AND the Order of Virgins, be proud of your two vocations! But for goodness sake, learn to embrace your proper vocational identity, whatever it is, instead of identifying as something you are not (if that's what you are doing!).]] Therese is someone I consider a friend, and we are in agreement on many things; for instance, I generally agree with much of what she writes on eremitical life (and vice versa), but in this matter we disagree with one another. Here is the text of the post I put up this morning:

[[Therese, you well know that the Rite of religious Profession identifies the one making vows as spouse of Christ and Christ as Bridegroom (the rite uses this term at least four times) and again refers to the professed as "betrothed to the eternal King" and accompanies this with the prayer that they may come to the wedding feast of eternal joy. At the giving of the ring, [[ receive this ring for you are betrothed to the eternal King; keep faith with your bridegroom. . . I am betrothed to the Son of the Eternal Father. . .]] I see nowhere in any of this where the Church says, "but of course we don't really mean any of this except in an improper/non-proper or highly poetic/metaphorical sense." If we look at the readings the Church allows for religious profession, these numbers could be multiplied and would be underscored.

Meanwhile, during the prayer of solemn consecration the Church prays, [[may he make those bonds with which he has bound you to Christ on earth endure forever in heavenly love.]] Apparently, it is her intention that these bonds (real and proper bonds by the way) be eternal. I rejoice in my vocation, and it is to be a bride to my bridegroom. You have every right to rejoice in your own similar vocation, but to say religious have no right to consider themselves, properly speaking, to be brides of Christ, is a mistake. The church teaches as she prays so she believes (lex orandi, lex credendi), and in this matter, she prays, and so she believes religious women are brides of Christ.]]

In all of this a couple of things Therese Ivers argues (and we have discussed this either by phone or ZOOM or even in person) make no sense to me. The first seems to me to be a distinction without a difference, namely, the use of "in a proper sense" when that is contrasted with the quality of the consecration of Religious Women. I honestly cannot get either my head or my heart around what it means to say that she, as a CV, is a Bride in the proper sense, while I and other religious women perpetually professed according to the Rite of Profession of Religious Women (or rites that preceded this one), are not. More, I cannot read the Rite with its multiple references to espousal or betrothal (used in a Biblical sense to refer to actual marriage, not to something like "engagement" as some CV's -- not Therese Ivers, so far as I know --- have written in the past), to Christ as Bridegroom, or to the one making profession as spouse, and attribute some merely metaphorical meaning to it. 

Secondly, my understanding is that Therese Ivers speaks of the bonds associated with religious profession and consecration, and those associated with the consecration of the Consecrated Virgin as qualitatively different from one another with only the latter being a truly eternal or indissoluble bond. (Another way of saying this is to assert that the espousal of one Rite is qualitatively different from the espousal in the other Rite -- apparently a minority opinion of those revising these Rites.) But I can't read the text of Religious Profession with its prayer that this bond [[endure forever in eternal love]] as indicating the bond is not intended to be insoluble. Instead, I hear it as a prayer for the religious woman's faithfulness to this bond be maintained even beyond death. This is empowered by the love of God in Christ, of course, but it seems clear that the Church, through the grace of God, intends this be an everlasting bond. 

My essential argument in what I first wrote in response to Therese Ivers' post is that the law the Church has always taught is lex orandi (as we pray), lex credendi (so do we believe). The Rite of Religious Profession (revision of 1970) is normative in the Catholic Church for all Religious Professions including those made by hermits under c 603 who use this Rite. She prays this way, and so she permits (and, in fact, expects) us all to believe in this same way. Moreover, this Rite picks up what Religious have traditionally believed about their consecrations and espousal to Christ. Unless Therese Ivers is arguing the Rite of Profession misuses language and misleads the entire Church and especially those making Religious Professions, I can't see where her argument that, "religious aren't Brides of Christ in a proper sense" (again, what does that even mean?) holds together. More, I am beginning to believe it misses the point of this vocation and its emphasis on the proper nature of its betrothal entirely.

Circling Around Again to Find a Way Forward:

You see, as I try to move forward in the way I see the problem, it is not merely that I can't get my head or my heart around the notion that CV's are Brides of Christ in a proper sense, and Religious Women (or men!)** are not. I can't understand what is gained for the vocation of c 604 consecration by arguing this. More, is it really necessary to take something away from the nature of religious profession and consecration in order to do justice to the consecration of the CV? That seems to me to denigrate the very vocation folks arguing this way are attempting to praise. 

So, what does the vocation of CV gain by believing CV's are more properly "betrothed" than religious women are? Nothing that I can see. It seems a petty and divisive argument which fails to appreciate the rule lex orandi, lex credendi, lex vivendi. After all, both Religious and CV's are consecrated (an eternal reality established by God even if one leaves one's vows), both  are professed (though one uses vows for this and the other does not). Both Rites of perpetual profession/consecration uses the same imagery of espousal, the same giving of rings, the same veiling, the same imaging of the Church as Bride of Christ. The major difference in all of this is that one calling is to a degree of separation from the world (or a qualification of these things via the evangelical Counsels) and the other is identified as a unique form of sacred or eschatological secularity. This is the pivotal point of distinction, I believe and the reason for the heightened emphasis on betrothal in the Rite of Consecration of Virgins for Women living in the world.

What I mean by this is that CV's are called to an eschatological or sacred secularity which can change (purify, sanctify) the way the entire Church sees and relates to the realm of the saeculum including every secular vocation. With religious women, CV's are Brides of Christ, but they need not embrace religious poverty, or religious obedience which qualifies religious women's relationship to the world around them in some significant ways in order to live this. Instead, they live it [[in the things of the Spirit and the things of this world]] reminding us all in a powerful way of the divinization of all things the Incarnation made real in the Christ Event. No longer need secular vocations be thought of as second (or third!) class. More, they cannot be thought of in this way. Instead they become paradigmatic of real and critical calls to holiness and union with Christ. The Kingdom of God/Heaven interpenetrates this world even now and CV's say (or are called to say) this in a unique way with their vocations. 

More and more I am beginning to believe the nuptial language of the Rite of Consecration of CV's living in the world, is meant to underscore not a distinction from religious consecration and its language of espousal per se, but rather the incredible nature of this vocation's secularity. No one, I don't think, would have renewed a long-lost vocation to women living in the world simply to contrast that vocation's consecration with that of religious (e.g., "By this rite we show what a true or proper espousal is as we show at the same time that religious' espousal is not a proper one!"). No vocation is essentially negative in its thrust nor established to denigrate another vocation. That is simply silly --- and in fact the majority members of the commissions that wrote both Rites refused to take out the language of espousal in the Rite of Profession of Religious Women. But what is not silly and what needs to be established strongly in light of a history of the Church denigrating the secular despite the witness of the Incarnation, is a vocation that shows the sacred nature of secular vocations and the way they truly image the Church as Bride of Christ --- just as really and powerfully as religious life and "leaving the world" does.

Generally speaking, the members of the Church were used to thinking of women Religious as Brides of Christ even if not all Religious women could personally relate to this language and imagery. What they were NOT used to at all, was the idea that a woman living in the world, a woman living a secular vocation, even a vocation which served the Church, could also truly be considered a Bride of Christ, nor that such a vocation could and should be esteemed as highly as the call to religious life. What do authors of a Rite of consecration do then to bring home the message that such women are called to an espousal every bit as real and significant as that of Religious Women? They make the Rite explicit in its emphasis on espousal, clear and unambiguous in its language of betrothal, and also, entirely clear on the fact that this creates a secular vocation no one in the contemporary Church expected to be possible. Now Bridal imagery is used to speak of a sacred or eschatological secularity which witnesses to the fact that the Kingdom of Heaven has interpenetrated our world in a new an awesome way.

There is no constructive need to emphasize betrothal or espousal and the Bidal imagery of this consecration unless one is doing so to change the way we see the Kingdom, the world around us we call secular, or the potential of secular vocations. Yes, the betrothal is real; the CV's espousal to Christ is every bit as true and significant as is the espousal of Religious in the Rite of Profession. But not more so. The language is weighty and there is emphasis on the proper and indissoluble nature of this espousal, as Therese Ivers rightly argues. But I would argue that it is done this way precisely because such language and imagery had seemed to be reserved for Religious Women and withdrawn (in the 12th Century) from women living secular vocations. The Kingdom of Heaven is present here and now in the religious and in the secular, the sacred and the profane. All is sacramentalized in the Incarnation, all of this world has become our God's proper medium of revelation. It seems to me this is the message underlying the spousal language of the Rite of Consecrated Virgins living in the World and the way we take it absolutely seriously.

I don't think this is new from what I have written in the past, though perhaps it more clearly links the explicit emphasis on Bridal imagery and identity with the secularity of the vocation. However, it is 9 years since I last posted on this issue, and I haven't re-read everything I wrote @2012-2013. For older writing on this topic, please see the label "eschatological secularity", and especially the following post from 2013: Consecrated Virgins vs Religious as Brides of Christ

** I focus on religious women in this piece because the Rite of Religious Profession of Women Religious seems so clear in this matter. The Rite of Religious Profession for Men is less clear in this, but I believe that Religious Men also are Espoused or Betrothed to Christ. After all, it is the Church which is properly the Bride of Christ. 

Melody for String Orchestra by Myroslav Skoryk (Ukrainian Composer)

With prayers for the People of Ukraine and thanks to Christine Brandes and the Oakland Civic Orchestra for this concert.

On Hermits, Mystics, and Misanthropes

[[ Hi Sister Laurel, I gathered from your recent posts that you believe a mystic is not some kind of weirdo or people-hater who can't get along with others. Because you seem to believe mystics are made by God's grace in a journey to wholeness (do you mean holiness here?) in union with God, is it your position that mystics relate better to others than most of us can or do? I was thinking that might be the case because they love others as God does and maybe also because they love themselves in the way God loves. I know you believe that all hermits are to be contemplatives and that some will become mystics so is it also true that if one is a called to be a mystic they are called to do that as a hermit? I mean are all mystics called to be hermits or if one experiences mystical prayer, then should they also think they are called to be a hermit??]]

Thanks for your questions. Let me start with the last one first. Because one is called to mystical prayer I do not believe they are necessarily called to be a hermit. Some may be called in this way to eremitical life, but ordinarily, persons discovering a vocation to both mystical prayer and eremitical life are already hermits; mystical prayer develops later in their lives as a part of the mature hermit life. Also, remember, all persons are called to union with God and that suggests that some people from every state of life will find they are called not only to contemplative prayer, but also the higher levels of contemplative prayer associated with the mystical path.

This leads me to your first question --- one you have already answered yourself very well. Yes, I believe that mystics (those called to mystical prayer) will tend to relate well to others because they do experience the love of God in the way they do in prayer. Such persons have been loved by God as all persons are loved by him, but they have experienced that love in ways most of us can hardly imagine! To be a mystic is to be someone focused on union with God in the "Beatific vision," but more, they are focused on it because they know it experientially and proleptically here in this life. They know their own unworthiness and the way God gives Godself to us in spite of that, just as they truly know their own preciousness and human dignity in light of God's own regard for them. Additionally then, such persons are enabled to see others in the way God sees and is delighted by them --- in spite of the ways all fall short of true humanity. Over time in prayer our hearts and minds are remade in the image of God in Christ. We relate to others and treat them (and ourselves!!) as God treats us. ("I, yet not I, but Christ in me.") How else could it be for someone with the gift of mystical prayer?

You are correct, I do not believe mystics are "weirdos" or misanthropes. More to the point, perhaps, I would say that if they are "weirdos"** and misanthropes they are unlikely to be true mystics. Mystics are lovers who have come to know in immediate experiences of God in prayer, how they and others are loved by God himself. And they are given to God and to others precisely as mystics because in this way God's love for others in Christ can then be made powerfully and effectively present in them. I would agree that mystics are rare and that too, they are not going to love doing many of the things folks commonly love doing in our world. But at the same time mystics are able to take delight in the smallest aspects of God's good creation; they are able to see God in these things and in those that image God more completely, and for this reason they will see things as precious and relate well to them as they are meant to be related to.

** Without a working definition, "weirdo" is likely not really helpful in this discussion. Let me just say that as I use the term it refers to someone who is not particularly down to earth, is unable to make others comfortable in their presence, and may be significantly self-centered in a way which prevents them from truly "being there" with and for others. As I understand the term it does not have to do simply with fitting in or failing to do so, but with refusing to truly belong to the same human community the rest of us belong to. 

One can have the most esoteric interests imaginable, the strangest preferences in clothes or food or friends, for instance, that are similarly imaginable and not be a weirdo. But, one can also have the most common preferences, likes, and dislikes possible and still be a "weirdo" if one believes they are somehow distinct from or fundamentally unlike the rest of the human race. One conviction I believe all genuine hermits and mystics have in common is the sense that foundationally we are the same as everyone else, unique gifts, talents, tastes, and lifestyles notwithstanding.

Some Points of Agreement and Disagreement with Maggie Ross

[[Hi Sister, I wondered if you were familiar with what Maggie Ross says about the Rules written for hermits and anchorites in the Middle Ages? She criticizes these as being so filled with devotionals that they allow little time for prayer. That sounds a lot like what you have said about the Rules beginners often write that are likewise filled with devotions. Are the two of you coming from the same place in this?]]

Hi and thanks for the question! Yes, I am somewhat familiar with what Sister Ross says about this. She has commented on this in her blog and I have read that --- though a long while ago. I think we are at least partly on the same page here. It seems to me that filling one's horarium with an unending series of devotionals is a superficial approach to prayer at best and may actually be a way of loading our day with distractions from the difficult and personally challenging realities of silence and solitude as well as of learning to pray contemplatively and the inner work associated with focused healing and growth. I believe Sister Ross probably has seen the same thing, and given her acute sensitivity to silence and what can and does happen to a person in silence, I have good reasons to believe we are agreed in this.

One of the ways new communities of hermits sometimes use devotionals, it seems to me, is to do something similar to loading a day with distractions as noted above, so there is simply no real room for time in quiet prayer with the Holy Spirit. Sometimes there is not even time for taking a walk and just quietly exulting in God's creation!! I have often been left with the impression that these new groups (and some older ones as well!) don't trust their members to learn to pray more deeply or even, perhaps, do something different from one another at any given time. Individuality, which is not the same as a rightly-to-be-rejected individualism, seems suspect and that seems to me to distrust the power and presence of the Holy Spirit. Uniformity is not the defining shape of the Spirit's own unity, I don't think. 

Meanwhile, saying prayers is important, of course, but it cannot substitute for allowing God to speak within us in the silences, or in the wounded and needy spaces of our hearts. We do not permit God to do that if we do not allow those spaces to live and breathe (and often cry out in anguish or yearning) without covering them or distracting ourselves from them with unceasing devotionals. While I also grant, of course that allowing those spaces that turn to deep prayer may be helped by rote prayers which reflect our deepest desires and needs, I am still certain that this will not happen unless one allows devotionals (among other things) to lead us into longer periods of silence when and where the Spirit wills which themselves bear fruit in what c 603 calls "the silence of solitude".

I think that Sister Ross and I are also in agreement that an eremitical Rule cannot be written for the solitary hermit by someone else, particularly if that author is not themselves a hermit. Again, this is about encouraging, trusting, and honoring the place of the Holy Spirit in the individual's life. Only the person can know how God calls them to pray and become God's own prayer in our world --- though of course this is one reason preparation for living the life of a hermit takes time and formation. Another person can certainly write guidelines for the beginner or introduce them to prayer forms, lectio, etc., but it needs the person themselves to finally shape the elements of their Rule in a way which is faithful to God's own working in their lives and within them. As I have said here a number of times, the writing of a personal Rule is one of the most formative experiences one can have on the way to profession as a c 603 hermit. It also serves as a means to educate the diocese discerning with the candidate on the nature of this vocation and the depths and sufficiency of c 603; a diocese that accompanies a hermit in all of the stages leading to her writing a liveable Rule will come to a greater appreciation of the canon and even more profound trust in the Holy Spirit and the solitary eremitical vocation s/he inspires in the Church.

There are several other points where I believe Sister Ross and I are in fundamental agreement -- the idea that solitude is the meeting place between human beings and God is one of these (I speak more strongly I think, in terms of solitude as a unique form of community), and also that we are all, existentially speaking, solitaries. I disagree with her, however, on the idea that we are all hermits. One may be a solitary without being a hermit, and in eliding the two terms in the way she does I believe she is making the mistake Episcopalians have made with their own canon 14. This canon allows for solitary religious, but does not encourage, much less require one be a hermit to be professed under it. Hermits are desert dwellers and embrace a desert spirituality with certain key elements (cf c 603 central elements). We may all be born and die as solitaries, and existentially speaking, remain solitaries throughout our lives, but as I understand and live this vocation, eremitical life is a different animal, one only some are called to and which requires a life of deliberate and specific responsiveness.

On Hermits, Packaged Coffee, and Hazmat Suits: a Bit of Vocabulary Building

This morning I got an email with a daily word. No, this is not a version of the day's Scripture readings -- though I also get those by email! Instead, it is a vocabulary builder which provides a kind of quiz format on words that some might not know. The word today was hermetic. I laughed out loud at their choice. You see, there was not the slightest chance that I would not know this word --- but I half expected to find a mistake here. Too often folks describe me or other hermits as [[living a hermetic vocation/life]]. This includes reporters and other writers. They mistakenly think hermetic is the adjectival form of the noun hermit. I am a hermit living an eremitical life. While there are some similarities, the differences are more significant, and the distinction is something I have written about here for the last almost 16 years!

So, I thought I might post a brief spelling or vocabulary lesson. Hermetic (please note the e) means to close tightly, to shut off or seal completely from outside influences. The bag of coffee I have in the pantry waiting to be opened is hermetically sealed. An astronaut who would die if exposed to open space wears a pressure suit that is hermetically sealed. Even someone in a hazmat suit with its own supply of filtered air or oxygen is hermetically protected. My hermitage and I, however, are not. Something that is eremitic (please note the i  and the lack of an initial h!) is about desert dwelling from the Greek word ερεμοσ (eremos) for desert or wilderness; it is about stricter separation from the world, and the silence of solitude, not about being insulated from all outside influences which would need to include air, light, love, and God (who does not merely dwell within us). 

In this last quality, however, we do come to the closest point of similarity between the two realities; both eremitical and hermetical are ways of dealing with outside influences; they both involve some degree of personal withdrawal or physical separation. Still, while the hermit is diligent about not being or becoming enmeshed in the values, perspectives, and attitudes she considers "worldly" or opposed to Christ (including those dimensions existing within Christ's Church that fit this bill), there are many points of contact between the hermit and the larger world which are embraced for the sake of God's Love and the mercy which frees everyone and everything from bondage to sin and its consequences. 

In other words, Roman Catholic eremitical life is about the unique form of community we know as solitude; it is not about isolation. (Even recluses live reclusion within a communal and ecclesial context for the sake of community in its many forms.) I am not completely insulated from the world around me; instead, I live the silence of solitude in order to be made more capable of engaging with or encountering the larger world as a citizen of God's Kingdom. Hermits don't live eremetical life (note the e that should be an i) or hermetical solitude, but eremitical life. (N.B., eremetical, as even my inadequate spellchecker reminds me, is not a real word by the way; it is not even an alternate spelling of the correct word!) So, to summarize, if you are speaking about coffee sealed in an airtight and waterproof foil pouch, the appropriate family of words is derived from hermetic. If you are speaking of a hermit who lives the silence of solitude (and so forth), the appropriate words are derived from eremos and include eremite, eremitic, and eremitical. And now I need a cup of coffee!!

Parable of the Merciful Father: The Choice for a Truly Human Form of Prodigality (reprised from March 2010)

 Commentators tend to name today's Gospel parable after the Merciful Father, because he is central to all the scenes (even when the younger Son is in a far-off place, the Father waits silently, implicitly, in the wings). We should notice it is his foolish generosity that predominates, so in this sense, he too is prodigal. Perhaps then we should call this the parable of the Prodigal Father. The younger son squanders his inheritance, but the Father is also (in common terms and in terms of Jewish Law) foolish in giving him the inheritance, the "substance" (literally, the ousias) of his own life and that of Israel. His younger Son treats him as dead (a sin against the Commandment to honor Father and Mother) and still this Father looks for every chance to receive him back.

When the younger son comes to his senses, rehearses his still seemingly-exorbitant terms for coming home ("I will confess and be received back not as a Son, but as a servant,"), his Father, watching for his return, eagerly runs to meet him in spite of the offense represented in such an act; he forestalls his confession, brings his Son into the center of the village thus rendering everything unclean according to the law, clothes him in the garb of Sonship and authority, kills the fatted calf and throws a welcome home party --- all heedless of the requirements of the law, matters of ritual impurity or repentance, etc. Now we truly begin to see a new and unimagined prodigality which outstrips the younger son's imagined responses in every way! Meanwhile, the dutiful older son keeps the letter of the law of sonship but transgresses its essence and also treats his Father with dishonor. He is grudging, resentful, angry, blind, and petty in failing to recognize what is right before him all the time. He too is prodigal, allowing his authentic Sonship to die day by day as he assumes a more superficial role instead. 

And yet, the Father reassures him that what is the Father's is the Son's and what is the Son's is the Father's (which makes the Father literally an "ignorant man" in terms of the Law, an "am-haretz"). Contrary to the wisdom of the law, he continues to invite him into the celebration, a celebration of new life and meaning. He continues to treat him as a Son. The theme of Law versus Gospel comes up strongly, though merely implicitly, in this and other readings this week, though at first we may fail to recognize this. Paul recognizes the Law is a gift of God but without the power to move us to act as Sons and Daughters of God in the way Gospel does. When coupled with human sinfulness it can --- whether blatantly or insidiously --- be terribly destructive. 

How often as Christians do we act in ways which are allowed (or apparently commanded) by law but which are not really appropriate to Daughters and Sons of an infinitely  and prodigally merciful Father who is always waiting for our return, always looking for us to make the slightest responsive gesture in recognition of his presence, to "come to our senses," in order that he can run to us and enfold us in the sumptuous garb of Daughterhood or Sonship? How often is our daily practice of our faith dutiful, and grudging but little more? How often do we act competitively or in resentment over others whose vocation is different than our own, whose place in the church (or the world of business, commerce, and society, for that matter) seems to witness to greater love from God? How often do we quietly despair over the seeming lack of worth of our lives in comparison to that of others? Whether we recognize it or not these attitudes are those of people motivated by law, not gospel. They are the attitudes of measurement and judgment, not of incommensurate love and generosity. 

At the beginning of Lent we heard the fundamental choice of this season and the heart of all choices put before us in any season, "Choose life not death." Today that choice is sharpened and the subtle forms of death we often choose are set in relief: will we be Daughters and Sons of an infinitely and, in this world's terms. a foolishly Merciful Father --- those who truly see and accept a love that is beyond our wildest imaginings and love others similarly, or, will we be prodigals in the pejorative sense, servants of duty, those who only accept the limited love we believe we have coming to us and who approach others competitively, suspiciously and without generosity? Will we be those whose notions of justice constrain God and our ability to choose the life he sets before us, or will we be those who are forgiven to the awesome degree and extent God is willing and capable of forgiving? Will we allow ourselves to be welcomed into a new life --- a life of celebration and joy, but also a life of greater generosity, responsibility, and God-given identity, or will we simply make do with the original prodigality of either the life of the younger or elder son? 

After all, both live dissipated lives in this parable: one flagrantly so, and one in quiet resentment, slavish dutifulness, and unfulfillment. The choice before those living the latter kind of Christian life is no less significant, no less one of conversion than the choice set before the younger son. His return may be more dramatic, but that of the elder son demands as great a conversion. He must move from a quiet exile where he bitterly identifies himself as a slave rather than a free man or (even less) a Son. His own vision of his life and worth, his true identity, are little different than those of the younger son who returns home rehearsing terms of servility rather than sonship. 

The parable of the merciful Father puts before us two visions of life, and two main versions of prodigality; it thus captures the two basic and, in some ways, antithetical meanings of prodigal: wasteful and lavish. There is the prodigality of the sons who allow the substance of their lives and identities to either be cast carelessly or slip silently away, the prodigality of those who lose their truest selves even as they grasp at wealth, adventure, duty, role, or other forms of security and "fulfillment". And there is the prodigality of the Father who loves and spends himself generously without limit or condition. In other words, there is death and there is life, law and gospel. Both stand before us ready to be embraced. Which form of prodigality will we choose? For indeed, the banquet hall is ready for us and the Father stands waiting at this very moment, ring, robe, and sandals in hand.

On the Consecration of Ukraine and Russia and the Importance of Contemplative and Mystical Prayer

Friday on the Feast of the Anunciation, Pope Francis had asked every Catholic in every home,  parish, or diocese in the entire Church to join him in consecrating Ukraine and Russia to God in the Immaculate Heart of Mary. I was doing a Communion service for my small daily Mass community and so, I spent some time working out how to give the consecration a significant place while maintaining the importance of the liturgies of the Word and Table/Altar. I chose to follow the homily with the consecration and developed my comments on the readings to specifically allow for this. For the consecration portion of things we began, therefore, with the kiss of peace (we ordinarily do it before coming around the altar so this was not a very major change); here we focused on the prayer we would be doing together in just a few minutes at Pope Francis' request. Reconciliation and peace were needed for this ecclesial work. Many small yes's can have great consequences.

Then we sat for a relatively brief period of silence and quiet prayer. I asked everyone to imagine all the larger and smaller yes's they had said to God throughout their lives, as well as all the yes's the world still needed us to make for the sake of peace and the well-being of our world. Imagine, I suggested, the entire communion of Saints joining us in this quiet prayer. Imagine all the pictures broadcast of the war in the Ukraine or anywhere else. Folks entered into this period deeply and supported one another in this silence as we all readied and allowed God to ready our own hearts for the consecration. And then we prayed a portion of the long prayer Pope Francis had supplied. It began with the sentence, [[At this hour, a weary and distraught humanity stands with you beneath the cross, needing to entrust itself to you, and through you, to consecrate itself to Christ. The people of Ukraine and Russia, who venerate you with a great love.]]

The decision to precede the actual prayer of consecration first with the kiss of peace with its implicit and explicit focus on reconciliation and peace, and then with a period of quiet and/or contemplative prayer was rooted in my sense that all real peace requires that we each be a contemplative presence to one another and to the world as a whole. This sense is something women religious the world over, whether from ministerial or contemplative institutes foster in their own religious families, ministries, meetings, and encounters of all sorts. And, of course, it is symbolic of the way hermit life itself is disposed and empowered to encounter the larger world. The stricter separation we embrace is done so that we can be made entirely whole in union with God and moreover, that we do this on behalf of the world around us which we encounter and to whom we witness for its own salvation.

As Thomas Merton affirms in "The Contemplative Life in the Modern World," [[Contemplative wisdom is then not simply an aesthetic extrapolation of certain intellectual or dogmatic principles, but a living contact with the infinite Source of all being, a contact not only of minds and hearts, not only of I and Thou, but a transcendent union on consciousness in which man and God become, according to the expression of St Paul, 'one spirit.'"  and as he also says, [[What needs to be made clear. . .is that contemplation is not a deepening of experience only, but a radical change in one's way of being and living, and the essence of that change is precisely a liberation from dependence on external means to external ends.]] And this change is not for ourselves only. We are freed by God from this world and enabled to live in it, not as ourselves alone, but as beings in union with God, beings able to love as God loves. Mystical experiences, wonderful as they may be, are never the measure of the mystic. Instead, that call to be  made complete in God and to love our world into wholeness is precisely the reason for contemplative prayer including even the highest reaches of mystical prayer.

Merton writes: [[The mission of the contemplative in this world of massive conflict and collective unreason, is to seek the true way of unity and peace, without succumbing to the illusion of withdrawal into a realm of abstraction from which unpleasant realities are simply excluded by force of will. In facing the world with a totally different viewpoint, he maintains alive in the world the presence of a spiritual and intelligent consciousness which is the root of true peace and true unity among men.

And so, we began our approach to the consecration Friday with the Word of God, a kiss of peace for one another, and a period of quiet/contemplative prayer where the reality of a weary and distraught humanity were brought right into our small chapel in the silence of solitary hearts we allowed to be opened wider (remade) together for the purpose. I wrote in the last post that [[it is absolutely fascinating to me how it is a mystic's infused contemplation takes them out of this world and out of any dependence on self to dependence on God alone precisely so they can live in this world, as a source of peace. The very thing that seems to make mystics/contemplatives stand apart and marks their experiences in prayer as incommunicable and uncommon, recreates and sends them back to "the world" as those who can encounter it as prophetic missionaries of God's (own) peace and wholeness.]]

I think the idea of the mystical way and mystical prayer, and especially mystical experiences always takes one through lesser forms of community with all of their differences, variations, and disparities to a place of really radical difference. But it is done so that we may return to others with the hearts of mystics, those who love as God loves and are therefore capable of bringing even implacable enemies together in peace. In my homily Friday I noted that in Bible study we had been talking about faith as a form of courage and commitment that is capable of overcoming doubt, not by destroying it, but by taking it inside itself and moving forward in spite of doubt. What is true of a Faith that is capable of taking doubt and fear up within itself is that it is infinitely stronger and more resilient than an absolute certainty with no room for these things; after all, at the least instance of doubt, this kind of (absolute) certainty will shatter. Mary's own journey was a journey of faith. It was about faith which grew by taking her very real doubts and fears inside itself and, in God's love, courageously, trustingly, moving forward into a world she would help change forever. 

Mary's smaller and larger yes's  (and Jesus', of course) would transform her world with God's own presence!! Her Fiat and all the smaller and larger yes's that both preceded and would follow it, her experiences of communion and union with God made her life fruitful beyond all imagining. More, it set her apart, transformed, freed, and established her in both her difference and sameness as made for the sake of a new encounter between God and the whole of his creation. As I also noted in the previous post, it is the same dynamic which stands at the heart of all infused contemplation as well as eremitical life's "stricter separation from the world." As I mentioned earlier, when we spoke about eremitical life, contemplation, Elizabeth of the Trinity, and the coming consecration, a friend -- another diocesan hermit -- joyfully affirmed, [[It is all about encounter!!]]. Contemplation, mystical prayer, even the hermit's stricter separation from the world, are about encounter for the sake of God and all God holds as precious!! And so, our service Friday ended with the commissioning prayer: [[Let us go forth to love our world into wholeness!]] It is the prayer of sending I usually use, but on this Friday it seemed especially appropriate.