Aim higher

Because we can. As a great saint wrote, "Why fly like a barnyard hen when you can soar like an eagle?"

They sought to destroy whom they feared

Then there came to power in Egypt a new king who knew nothing of Joseph. ‘Look,’ he said to his subjects ‘these people, the sons of Israel, have become so numerous and strong that they are a threat to us. We must be prudent and take steps against their increasing any further,’ ... Accordingly they put slave-drivers over the Israelites to wear them down under heavy loads. In this way they built the store-cities of Pithom and Rameses for Pharaoh. But the more they were crushed, the more they increased and spread, and men came to dread the sons of Israel. (Exodus 1:1-22)

This reminds me of the eugenics that drove the Nazis to try and destroy the Jews, or drove any group to genocide. Could there be a parallel as well with attempts to destroy Christianity in countries which were once Christian kingdoms, where now they proclaim proudly, at least many of those in political power, that they are secular nations? 'We have no king but Caesar', they might as well be saying.

But for Christians and Jews, we know this: "No sword of their own won the land; no arm of their own brought them victory." For to God we declare: "It was your right hand, your arm and the light of your face; for you loved them." -- Psalm 43 (44)

This does not mean timid acquiescence to secular masters, of course, but it does mean recognizing the real power behind our victory: Christ, crucified and risen. And so our struggles for justice and the spread of the gospel has meaning beyond this passing world. In these days of Lent, let us remember: we are at war with the Enemy, and our King has already won, not with blades and bullets, but, as by missionaries of centuries past, with the Cross.

Happy Lent has come: taking stock in the silence

Bishop Robert Barron, in his video series, Catholicism, noted that Christ on the cross was, one might say, a happy man. The context was the Beatitudes, and those words all applied to him like no other. That turns the meaning of happiness on it's head because we in the 21st century have equated happiness with emotional or physical pleasure, perhaps more than anybody else in the past.

Today, Ash Wednesday, we begin the season of Lent. We hopefully remember that the Christian cross, and the doctrines on holy suffering and denying oneself or mortification, is essential to our salvation. Firstly. That is how Christ redeemed us, but that is how we, in our turn, abide in him. A lot of people don't realize that, while we have breath in or bodies, we continue to be at war with our concupiscence, our tendency to sin. It's like gravity that pulls us down. Like a bird in flight, if we stop flapping our wings, we gradually allow down and lose altitude. If that goes on further, at some point we land altogether. We have to keep going, perhaps pacing ourselves, but never stopping, avoiding slowing down. That way, we make better use of our momentum and avoid the bother of taking off again. Of course, there will be times when we do crash and fall. Not a problem, as long as we keep our resolve of faith. Lent helps is there, too.

Lent reminds us why we bother, keeping our eyes on the target rather than getting distracted by the sights along the way. It trains us for battle, too, because there will be moments when great sacrifices alone will win the day, for ourselves or for others.

Happy Lent! Onward!

They divided my clothing among them. They cast lots for my robe.

Psalm 21 (22)

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
You are far from my plea and the cry of my distress.
O my God, I call by day and you give no reply;
I call by night and I find no peace.

Yet you, O God, are holy,
enthroned on the praises of Israel.
In you our fathers put their trust;
they trusted and you set them free.
When they cried to you, they escaped.
In you they trusted and never in vain.

But I am a worm and no man,
scorned by men, despised by the people.
All who see me deride me.
They curl their lips, they toss their heads.
'He trusted in the Lord, let him save him;
let him release him if this is his friend.'

Yes, it was you who took me from the womb,
entrusted me to my mother’s breast.
To you I was committed from my birth,
from my mother’s womb you have been my God.
Do not leave me alone in my distress;
come close, there is none else to help.

Many bulls have surrounded me,
fierce bulls of Bashan close me in.
Against me they open wide their jaws,
like lions, rending and roaring.

Like water I am poured out,
disjointed are all my bones.
My heart has become like wax,
it is melted within my breast.

Parched as burnt clay is my throat,
my tongue cleaves to my jaws.

Many dogs have surrounded me,
a band of the wicked beset me.
They tear holes in my hands and my feet
and lay me in the dust of death.

I can count every one of my bones.
These people stare at me and gloat;
they divide my clothing among them.
They cast lots for my robe.

O Lord, do not leave me alone,
my strength, make haste to help me!
Rescue my soul from the sword,
my life from the grip of these dogs.
Save my life from the jaws of these lions,
my poor soul from the horns of these oxen.

I will tell of your name to my brethren
and praise you where they are assembled.
‘You who fear the Lord give him praise;
all sons of Jacob, give him glory.
Revere him, Israel’s sons.

'For he has never despised
nor scorned the poverty of the poor.
From him he has not hidden his face,
but he heard the poor man when he cried.'

You are my praise in the great assembly.
My vows I will pay before those who fear him.
The poor shall eat and shall have their fill.
They shall praise the Lord, those who seek him.
May their hearts live for ever and ever!

All the earth shall remember and return to the Lord,
all families of the nations worship before him;
for the kingdom is the Lord’s, he is ruler of the nations.
They shall worship him, all the mighty of the earth;
before him shall bow all who go down to the dust.

And my soul shall live for him, my children serve him.
They shall tell of the Lord to generations yet to come,
declare his faithfulness to peoples yet unborn:
‘These things the Lord has done.’

Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit,
as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be,
world without end.
Amen.

From the Office of Readings for Good Friday, 2015, via Universalis.com

The Adulteress and St. Mary Magdalene

Today the Gospel reading was about the adulteress that was brought before Jesus in order to trap him (John 8:1-11). I was reminded of how the identity of this woman had often been conflated with St. Mary Magdalene. Then it struck me that whoever this woman truly was, this shameful past can be seen, in the end, as a cause for joy and rejoicing - not because such a past is in any way glorious, but the victory of mercy and repentance is. I think it is entirely human to dwell on a given moment but Christians are called to take a longer view. St. Josemaria Escriva refers to enlarging one's view until it is universal or Catholic. I think I need to start doing so in earnest, because I am often incredibly short-sighted. If the notion of sin should ever pop into my head, I should probably immediately think "Mercy!" Because, seen from the other end, sin really doesn*t have the last word. I must have read that from Mark Shea somewhere, or G. K. Chesterton. It is the sort of thing they had probably written about already. Not to mention, Jesus himself said this to the woman to tie off that dreadful episode: "Neither do I condemn you.. Go and sin no more." It slso seems fitting to point out these last words (among others) of his as he was dying: "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do."

Witness

In the first Sunday of Lent, Mark describes (Mk 1:12-15) some of the first activities of Jesus in very concise terms, but they brim with significance. After his baptism, Jesus went ..

out into the wilderness and he remained there for forty days, and was tempted by Satan. He was with the wild beasts, and the angels looked after him.   After John had been arrested, Jesus went into Galilee. There he proclaimed the Good News from God. ‘The time has come’ he said ‘and the kingdom of God is close at hand. Repent, and believe the Good News.’

Jesus had Good News to share, and when the work of John was curtailed by Herod putting him in prison, Jesus took up the task of witnessing. It follows baptism, which according to Peter (1 Pt 3:18-22) saves you now.. a pledge made to God from a good conscience, through the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Our baptized existence, one that is reborn through the death and resurrection of Jesus, is itself a witness to the Good News. But this witness needs a voice, it needs hands and feet, so that the audience may hear, see and experience it. I have a voice, I have hands and feet. Am I witnessing to others? If I am not, what am I waiting for?

Called

One of the things that seem etched into Man's heart is a sense of calling, something that pulls beyond what is immediately obvious, that there should be something more to life than whatever there seems to be. I grew up on stories with heroes in them, from the fictional to the historical, from the Old Testament heroes like Samson and David, to brief stories of the saints like Christopher and Francis of Assisi. And the mythical Norse heroes to the Greek, Arthur and his knights, Charlemagne, Roland and the paladins. Lapu-lapu, Rizal, Bonifacio and the heroes of more than a century ago. They all had callings of significance, and I could feel it in my bones that I had mine. Probably not the same that they had, probably not as big, but just as exciting and full of adventure and surprises.

It is probably just as well that I encountered St Josemaria Escriva at some point, and I learned the most amazing thing that makes incredible sense: the call to do ordinary things extraordinarily well -- supernaturally well, in fact. This Lent calls me to an opportunity to be returned to myself (not for me to return to myself, as I'd misstated below). To what do I return? For one, that I am called, to sanctify what is ordinary, by turning it into prayer, asking the Holy Spirit to therefore infuse the mundane activities of everyday with supernatural grace. Father and husband. Teacher, thinker, tinker. In today's readings, Isaiah proclaims God's call to holy ordinariness in acting with justice and compassion, reverence and faith (Is 58:9-14), and Jesus calls sinners to repentance, but also, as with Levi, to be his disciple (Lk 5:27-32). And this Levi is renamed Matthew, and goes from tax collector to apostle, doing ordinary things, really. Yet how many authors have had their book copied, reprinted, cited, read aloud, translated into dozens of languages, over a period of about 2000 years? Quite a boast, and it started one ordinary day at the customs house, with one extraordinary call!

Fasting

No one bats an eyelash when one hears of radical diets that shun the intake of, for example, protein, sweets, carbs, etc. We're fairly happy to admit that we don't really need those types of (usually delightful) food too much -- that there is something more important than enjoying them. But bring up the word fasting, apart from a medical context, and one instinctive reaction is, Huh? Fr. Bill today talked about a balance between feasting and fasting (catchy way of putting it). One is appreciated more if it is balanced with the other. Each is done right, done better, in the proper perspective.

Apart from keeping a balance between the two, Isaiah conveys this reminder from God: be consistent. Why do we fast? It is not to win admiration, nor to get paid for my fast. To be heard by God, a fast as prayer. Why should it ever be necessary? Well, it probably isn't, but it is consistent with a sincere and heartfelt prayer. It is a penitential prayer that is incarnated -- made flesh with the physical act of fasting. This is consistent because we are incarnate beings. To please God. Why is that important? Because apart from being Creator, he is our Father. He was delighted in our creation and is delighted when we imitate him. With sincere fasting, a heartfelt and incarnate prayer, we imitate his love when we offer him our love. He doesn't need it, but it is what we were made for, to love. As Isaiah continues to relate to us, to fast consistently, with love, means these (Is 58:1-9):

to break unjust fetters
  undo the thongs of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free,
  and break every yoke,
to share your bread with the hungry,
  and shelter the homeless poor,
to clothe the man you see to be naked
  and not turn from your own kin?
Then will your light shine like the dawn
  and your wound be quickly healed over.
Your integrity will go before you
  and the glory of the Lord behind you.
Cry, and the Lord will answer;
  call, and he will say, ‘I am here.’

Lent: a Journey to Discovery

Two days ago, on Ash Wednesday, I began a journey. There's a Lenten calendar that I think the archdiocese put out, and it urges: Return to yourself. Words are almost invariably set within a context, so those words are certainly loaded, but they are also true. We set aside the trappings and the peripherals and go to the bare desert. As some put it, we revisit the innocence of our baptism. And I start with the ashes: reminding me that I came from dust, and to dust I shall return one day.

Is that it?

In the depths of my heart, I already know the answer: no, that is not all there is. While true, there is more to me than dust, and I did not emerge from dust on my own, nor by accident.

Then earlier today, Thursday, yet another truth is revealed: I set before you life or death, blessing or curse (Dt 30:15-20) -- choices. Life is about choices. But if I am but dust, then what is the point of making choices? Aha! I know instinctively that choices do matter, usually the difficult ones: they usually reflect a significant goal. ‘If anyone wants to be a follower of mine, let him renounce himself and take up his cross every day and follow me' (Lk 9:22-25).

All quiet in this blog

No, it's not a lenten fast. I am tempted to say that "life is getting in the way" but that would imply that this blog is not part of my life. I'd like to think that it is, infrequent as the posts are, because evangelization is part of my mission. And yet, as I tell my kids often, spending too much time speaking could mean not spending enough time listening. (Being a lecturer, and lecturing them often, that's really ironic coming from me.) I'd like to think that I am spending more time listening, but I know that I have not done enough, though I think have improved some -- at least in terms of observing my family a bit more closely. The kids are growing up so fast!

But it is Lent, so I do ought to put more time into reading. We started using "The Imitation of Christ" (Thomas a Kempis) at night, and most of it probably whizzes past my boys, but these are seeds, and I can certainly use them for myself, too. As a parent, one thing I can say is that you can't neglect your own welfare. Whether or not you adopt a healthy lifestyle (body, mind and soul), your children will take up a lot of that. And that's why Lent should not go by unnoticed in this household. If I don't keep it well, how will they learn to do so?

Sshh.. the body of Christ is fasting...

It's the second week of Lent. Why do we fast at Lent? Why do we observe Lent at all? Perhaps because it is a season of grace, given to us (who observe the season) for our own edification. It isn't about what Protestants might fear -- works-righteousness. It's not that the Catholic Church presumes to think that its Lenten observances add to the finished work of Christ on the cross. No, I think it is that Christ takes us unto himself, riding along his own Lenten on earth 2000 years ago, in order to complete in our bodies what is lacking. What is lacking? For ourselves, I think we lack the experience of profound sorrow at the horror of sin and concupiscence. For others, especially those for whom the cross is alien, they lack the witness of the cross and how great the love of God is. I heard Patrick Coffin at Catholic Answers recently say that sacrifice is the measure of love. This is Lent. It's a season of sacrifice: Christ's sacrifice, and we're here for the ride -- desert and all. Thank God.

Justice and Mercy

Don't you just love having one of those "aha!" moments? I had one while watching "Jesus of Nazareth" on DVD the other night. It was that scene when the case of the adulteress was brought before our Lord:

And the scribes and the Pharisees bring unto him a woman taken in adultery: and they set her in the midst, And said to him: Master, this woman was even now taken in adultery. Now Moses in the law commanded us to stone such a one. But what sayest thou? And this they said tempting him, that they might accuse him. But Jesus bowing himself down, wrote with his finger on the ground. When therefore they continued asking him, he lifted up himself, and said to them: He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her. And again stooping down, he wrote on the ground. But they hearing this, went out one by one, beginning at the eldest. And Jesus alone remained, and the woman standing in the midst. Then Jesus lifting up himself, said to her: Woman, where are they that accused thee? Hath no man condemned thee? Who said: No man, Lord. And Jesus said: Neither will I condemn thee. Go, and now sin no more.

The "aha" moment was not about the Lord's brilliant answer to the scribes and Pharisees. It was when I considered both how the Law of Moses did indeed prescribe capital punishment and how the Lord showed the woman mercy. It's easy enough to thus conclude that the Law of Moses was mistaken, but crashes into the wall of the Law being both inspired by the Holy Spirit and assured by the Lord's own words: "amen I say unto you, till heaven and earth pass, one jot, or one tittle shall not pass of the law, till all be fulfilled." (Matthew 5) Shocking as it sounds to 21st century Catholic sensibilities, there really is such a thing as mortal sin. But this is a death that the Lord does not take pleasure in, "but that the wicked turn from his way, and live" rather than die: for God is love. But the Lord is also just, and there is no other way to look at it: mortal sin is mortal, and that is the objective truth about the nature of mortal sin.

However, Christ is the Father's mercy. In him, justice is not set aside, but he himself expiates for the sin. When he said "He that is without sin among you, let him cast the first stone," that, too is truthful. Mortal punishment is merited by mortal sin, but no more is such punishment ours to mete out. It is his alone, and in his mercy and love, he metes it out on himself on the cross. His sacrifice is all the more incredible when we truly consider how our sins nailed him to that cross, and that this horrible death was our just punishment -- except that he took them from us unto himself instead.

And there is the "aha" -- and so we must pay earnest attention to our Lord's words to us: "Neither will I condemn thee. Go, and now sin no more." And in each mortal sin we commit, we must remember that the same death is earned, but the same mercy is offered to us, again and again. And if we persist in such sinfulness, how utterly ungrateful we are, and how cheap we make the sacrifice Christ made on the cross for us. Becoming then numb to the graciousness of this mercy, we risk scorning its worth in innocent blood, making us callous, devoid of gratitude and, in pride, greeting such mercy with contempt instead.

Lord, may I never scorn your mercy! May I cling to your cross tightly, and respond to you in love -- then do with me as you will, only never let me leave your wounded side!

Maundy Thursday

There really is something to be said about these preparations that we make for Easter, as Malcolm told me earlier tonight before the Mass. The forty days in the desert of Lent leading up to the Triduum -- which I mostly squandered, sadly -- sometimes, we get in such a hurry to reach the goal that we miss out on the journey. Now I don't buy the idea that the final destination is insignificant -- by no means, if we're talking about our Heavenly home. We have to consider that both that destination and the journey are of God -- or at least, they ought to be, if we surrender all to him.

Earlier I prayed the Stations of the Cross for the first time in many years. That was a journey too.. and knowing what we know about God's deliberateness in the Incarnation, as in the Passion, and in the mystery of our redemption, that cannot be an insignificant journey. And any and every part of Christ's journey from Bethlehem to Golgotha -- including such apparent side trips as the Last Supper? No accident either -- not by any means.

Why do Christians fast?

Bro. Austin G. Murphy, O.S.B. from Ignatius Insight explains why.

[Thanks to the blog, Against the Grain, for this link.]

May Almighty God have mercy on us, forgive us our sins, and bring us to everlasting life

The above is said at the end of the Penitential Rite, soon after Mass begins. A Lutheran acquaintance complained a few weeks back about the said prayer because it says "may" when it is already a fact that God has shown mercy and forgiven our sins. This is a common understanding among Protestants for whom it is most important to emphasize that we have obtained forgiveness unmerited -- past, present and future. However, while it is true that the once and for all atonement in Calvary expiates all our sins for all times, it remains a proper posture for us to actually ask for forgiveness at all times. Protestants variably refer to this as being confronted by the Law and living out repentance for our entire lives, or, as some Evangelicals use the term, pleading the blood for forgiveness (among other things). None of them would deny the singular event on Calvary, but they mostly recognize that we all continue to sin, even after having become Christians (whether from baptism or, as others think, from praying the sinner's prayer). For these, which were not confessed when we first became Christians, we humbly ask pardon. And for our continuing attachment to sin -- concupiscence -- leading us to the same sin again and again, we must repent.

Therefore, I don't see that the above prayer is problematic at all. It would not have met with objections if ancient Christian liturgy and Scriptures are any indication. Here is an ancient Lenten prayer, which is also a commentary for today's Gospel reading (Luke 15:1 - 32) on the prodigal son:

Saint Andrew of Crete (660-740), monk and Bishop Grand canon of the Orthodox Lenten liturgy, 1st ode "Here am I, dying from hunger. I shall get up and go to my father" How shall I begin to weep for the works of my life? What shall be the first notes of my mourning chant? In your mercy, O Christ, grant me the forgiveness of my sins… As the potter who moulds the clay So you have given me, O my Creator, flesh and bones, breath and life. O Lord who created me, my judge and Saviour, Take me back to you this day. O my Saviour, before you I confess my sins. I have fallen beneath the blows of the Adversary; Behold the wounds with which my death-dealing thoughts Have wounded, like brigands, my soul and body (Lk 10,30f.). I have sinned, my Lord, yet I know that you love mankind. It is in tenderness you chastise us And in your ardent compassion. You see me weeping and come towards me Like the Father welcoming the prodigal son. Since my youth, O my Saviour, I have despised your commandments. I have spent my life in obsession and heedlessness. I call to you: Before I die, Save me… I have dissipated in emptiness the inheritance of my soul. I lack the fruits of fervour and now I feel hunger. I cry out: Father, full of compassion, come to me, Take me in your mercy. The one whom the robbers attacked (Lk 10,30f.) Is myself in the midst of the wandering of my thoughts. They strike me and wound me. But you, O Christ my Saviour, bend down to me and heal me. The priest sees me and turns away. The Levite sees me, naked and in distress, but passes by on the other side. But you, O Jesus born of Mary, You stop to help me. Jesus, I cast myself at your feet; I have sinned against your love. Free me from this burden for it is too heavy for me And, in your mercy, take me to yourself. Do not enter into judgement with me, Do not uncover my deeds, Nor inspect my motives and desires. But in your compassion, All-Powerful one, Close your eyes to my sins and save me. Now is the time of repentance. I come to you. Free me from the heavy burden of my sins And, in your gentleness, grant to me tears of repentance.

Lenten readings

The following are readings from the Liturgy of the Hours. As always, in the Scriptures, God draws near to us and calls us to him.

Morning Prayer reading, Romans 12:1-2
Think of God’s mercy, my brothers, and worship him, I beg you, in a way that is worthy of thinking beings, by offering your living bodies as a holy sacrifice, truly pleasing to God. Do not model yourselves on the behaviour of the world around you, but let your behaviour change, modelled by your new mind. This is the only way to discover the will of God and know what is good, what it is that God wants, what is the perfect thing to do.
Mid-morning reading (Terce) Wisdom 11:23 - 24
Lord, you are merciful to all, because you can do all things and overlook men’s sins so that they can repent. Yes, you love all that exists, you hold in abhorrence nothing of what you have made.
Noon reading (Sext) Ezekiel 18:23
Am I likely to take pleasure in the death of a wicked man – it is the Lord who speaks – and not prefer to see him renounce his wickedness and live?
Afternoon reading (None) Isaiah 58:6 - 7
Is not this the sort of fast that pleases me – it is the Lord who speaks – to share your bread with the hungry, and shelter the homeless poor, to clothe the man you see to be naked and not turn from your own kin?

[Readings taken from Universalis.com]

Ash Wednesday

Today marks the beginning of Lent, a penitential season set out by the Church as our forty days in the desert. It is not a dull time if we remember that Christ is with us. These days remind us of our need for constant renewal. To Protestants, this could be best understood as a means of being constantly confronted with The Law. With the very life of God in us as sanctifying grace, we can live up the Law, but not perfectly. However, each day thus lived, falls and all, is the opportunity to grow in holiness. In the desert of Lent, we set ourselves apart, finding ourselves with Christ in that bare landscape, away from the distractions of everything else in the world.

The Daily Gospel readings focus on the heart of Lent, which actually is to the heart, rather than in the rituals themselves, which are only means to reach the heart. Pope Benedict XVI (General audience of 21/02/07 ©Libreria editrice Vaticana) refers to Lent as "a way to true freedom":

From the outset Lent was lived as the season of immediate preparation for Baptism, to be solemnly administered during the Easter Vigil. The whole of Lent was a journey towards this important encounter with Christ, this immersion in Christ, this renewal of life. We have already been baptized but Baptism is often not very effective in our daily life. Therefore, Lent is a renewed "catechumenate" for us too, in which once again we approach our Baptism to rediscover and relive it in depth, to return to being truly Christian. Lent is thus an opportunity to "become" Christian "anew", through a constant process of inner change and progress in the knowledge and love of Christ. Conversion is never once and for all but is a process, an interior journey through the whole of life. This process of evangelical conversion cannot, of course, be restricted to a specific period of the year: it is a daily journey that must embrace the entire span of existence, every day of our life… What does "to be converted" actually mean? It means seeking God, moving with God, docilely following the teachings of his Son, Jesus Christ; to be converted is not a work for self-fulfilment because the human being is not the architect of his own eternal destiny. We did not make ourselves. Therefore, self-fulfilment is a contradiction and is also too little for us. We have a loftier destination. We might say that conversion consists precisely in not considering ourselves as our own "creators" and thereby discovering the truth, for we are not the authors of ourselves. Conversion consists in freely and lovingly accepting to depend in all things on God, our true Creator, to depend on love. This is not dependence but freedom.

Further references:

1. Catholic Encyclopedia on Lent
2. Jimmy Akin links to Lenten resources
3. Taped radio show on Lent and Fasting by Scott Hahn and Gus Lloyd.