Carl E. Olson's Blog, page 176
December 26, 2012
The Character of Diaconal Ordination
The Character of Diaconal Ordination | Deacon James Keating, Ph.D. | Ignatius Insight
(This article was originally published on Ignatius Insight on August 17, 2010.)
For such a "simple" station in the Church's hierarchy, the vocation of
the deacon is complex. The complexity arises from the net of relationships in
which the deacon finds himself upon ordination, a net that is not to be escaped
but embraced. Unfortunately, the intricacy of the relationships of the
diaconate can tempt a man to despair as he makes efforts to please all of his
constituencies: wife, children, bishop, pastor, employer, parishioners,
diocesan officials, fellow deacons, and more. Along with these relationships
and the various calls they carry, the deacon also feels pressed to "perform"
well in his ministries, which can be various and often emotionally consuming;
however, looking at the vocation of deacon from the perspective of what
Christ is sharing with him, the deacon can
receive clarity on a vital truth: it is not the quantity of acts of service
that matter to Christ but simply one's fidelity to the character of ordination.
Excessive activity and neurotic hand-wringing about whether "I am doing
enough to help others" gives birth only to
stress, not holiness. Most deacons of the Western world will go to purgatory
because they were too busy exerting themselves, not because their ministry was
measured. Jesus will meet them at Purgatory's gate with one question: "Why did
you try to do so much?"
The key to living the diaconate in a simple yet effective way is
found within one's fidelity to the character received at ordination. The reception of this
character allows the deacon to minister in a profound way by letting Christ do
the work. As one meditates upon the meaning of diaconal character, one realizes
that Holy Orders mediates a gift to be received and not simply tasks to
accomplish. If a deacon receives this gift subjectively, the various and
complex relationships that make up his life will become a support to him in his
ministry and will no longer be rivals for his time and emotional capital.
What Is This Gift, the Character of Holy Orders?
Insofar as it is a
grade of holy orders [sic], the
diaconate imprints a character and communicates a specific sacramental grace.
The diaconal character is the configurative and distinguishing sign, indelibly
impressed in the soul, that configures the one ordained to Christ, who made
himself the deacon—the servant—of all. It brings with it a specific
sacramental grace: a gift for living the new reality wrought by the sacrament.
With regard to deacons, "strengthened by sacramental grace they are dedicated
to the People of God, in conjunction with the bishop and his body of priests,
in the service (diakonia) of the
liturgy, of the Gospel and of works of charity." Just as in all sacraments
which imprint character, grace has a permanent virtuality. It flowers again and
again in the same measure in which it is received and accepted again and again
in faith.... The Church further teaches that: By a special sacramental gift, Holy
Order confers on the deacon a particular participation in the consecration and
mission of Him who became servant of the Father for the redemption of mankind,
and inserts him in a new and specific way in the mystery of Christ, of his
Church and the salvation of all mankind. [1]
The character received at ordination has been likened to a
brand or wound that signifies "ownership." Then-Cardinal Ratzinger noted that
this wound or brand "calls out to its owner." [2] In this
way, the cleric stands in relationship to the one who has placed his mark upon
him. "From now on, let no one make troubles for me; for I bear the marks of
Jesus on my body" (Gal 6:17). A further scriptural understanding of character
might be summed up in this Pauline teaching: "Yet I live, no longer I, but
Christ lives in me" (Gal 2:20). Here, Scripture underscores the interior
self-surrender of the cleric. He is the one who eagerly hosts the mystery of
Christ's public service of charity as his own, as his new life. One man, called
to be priest, makes himself permanently available to the sacrificial mystery of Christ; and another
man, called to be deacon, makes himself permanently available to the servant mystery of Christ.
This servant mystery and this sacrificial mystery coincide
at the Eucharist, wherein Christ offers His body and blood in sacrifice and also "gives example" of what
communion with this sacrifice can do to impel self-effacing service (John
13:12ff). Guy Mansini, OSB, notes the following about this diaconal character
of service:
The
deacon disappears into the action he undertakes at Mass. His service is more
purely instrumental, more purely a serving, and if he is an icon of anything,
he is an icon of precisely that, self-effacing service. The deacon's function
is to keep the circle of charitable receiving and giving turning, both
sacramentally and within community. [3]
To become permanently available to Christ is an objective reality
imparted upon ordination, but it needs to be ever-personally appropriated anew
so its grace "flowers again and again in the same measure in which it is
received ... in faith." [4] A further witness to this diaconal
character in Scripture is the following: "Let the greatest among you be as the
youngest, and the leader as the servant.... I am among you as the one who serves"
(Luke 22:26–27). This service, however, does not simply originate in a
man's feelings of empathy toward those in need. Ordained "service" flows from
communion with Christ, particularly as it relates to Christ's capacity to
listen to His Father. As Psalm 40 notes, "Sacrifice and offering you do not
want; but ears open to obedience you gave me" (vs. 6).
Obedience is the virtue/gift that orders a man to raptly listen to God
out of love. One way to better understand obedience would be to meditate upon
the story of Mary's attentiveness to Christ in Luke 10:38-42. It is an
attentiveness that carries the desire to give the self. It is a listening unto
surrender. The Martha figure in the story is a kind and hospitable woman who is
serving, but she, unlike Mary, has not chosen the better part. "The better
part" indicates a depth of communion with Christ that readies one to give
and serve out of that precise communion. The
deacon's subjective appropriation to live in communion with Christ is his full
response to the objective action of Christ within him that happened at
ordination. The deacon is called not to the priesthood, not to offer sacrifice,
but to diakonia, service. To
serve faithfully, the deacon needs to hear what God desires. This listening or
obedience is, of course, one of the most powerful elements, if not the most powerful element, of Jesus' own ministry. "I cannot
do anything on my own; ... I do not seek my own will but the will of the one who
sent me" (John 5:30).
When Christ inflicts the "wound" of diaconal ordination upon a man, it
is to make him vulnerable to the mystery of this obedient service. The desire
to serve the Father's will defines the heart of Christ. Is the deacon aware
that Christ is now speaking to him about this desire, about the love of the Father
He wishes to dispense upon His church?
Did the deacon allow the wound of ordination to open the ears of his heart so that
he could hear the movement of Christ's own Spirit? Does the deacon wish to obey the Spirit so that he
does not work in vain (Ps 127:1)?
There are few virtues more necessary to a deacon than the capacity to
listen to Christ in prayer, within the context of listening both to the bishop
and to the needs of the diocese. Listening for the needs of the people and then
discerning with God what needs can be served by his ministry is a prayer
emblematic of the deacon. He, with the bishop, is called to prayerfully imagine
approaches to service that do not yet exist in the diocese or approaches that
can be better equipped.
The diaconal sacramental character can be summarized in this way: It is
a grace that permanently orders a man toward participation in Christ's own
simple self-giving, as one who came to serve and not be served. This is the
crux of the character: the deacon has become permanently open, unceasingly
available to the mystery of this charitable service as it flows from the life,
death, and resurrection of Christ. This participation in the mystery of
Christ's own service establishes the deacon, by right, to facilitate the
circulation of Christ's own charity in the Church and beyond. The deacon is an
envoy of the Paschal Mystery to the laity, in the hope of serving them in their
mission to transform culture for Christ. In this way, the deacon takes what
grace he receives when assisting at the altar and gives it to the laity, and
then takes what he receives from the laity (their love, suffering, and
hardships) and gives it to the priest. The priest, in turn, then offers it to
the Father, in and with the sacrifice of Christ. All of this service by the
deacon is accomplished in obedience to the pastoral vision of the bishop. [5]
When ministering, the deacon embodies the spiritual discernment of the bishop,
who has identified or confirmed the needs of the Church and the appropriate
response his deacons should take to serve these needs.
Diaconal Life That Flows from This Character
Receiving the gift of Holy Orders, which is in communion with Christ's
own pastoral charity, establishes the deacon in freedom. It is not the deacon's
"job" to do a lot of "work." It is the deacon's call to stay in a posture of
receptivity to the gift Christ gives, in
this case, communion with His own servant-love. Specifically, Christ is
inviting the deacon to be available in Him to the needs of the diocese, to incarnate the eternal availability of
Christ's own heart to the poor (Luke 22:27). What the Lord asks of the deacon
is clear: Will you say "yes" to My sharing My availability in you until you die? Will you let Me act in you, through
you, so that I might call many to the "banquet" (Luke 14:15–24)? [6]
The deacon's call is to be faithful to the character received at ordination so
that the people he serves can recognize and come to know Christ. This fidelity
is expressed through the unceasing prayer of the deacon within his heart, a
conversation that continually places the deacon in a posture of surrender,
since he knows that Christ can do more through grace than he, the deacon, can
do through action. Christ is the love that bears all things—the deacon
must let Him! [7]
The diaconal ministry involves activity, of course, but the key to
living in Holy Orders is for the deacon to let the holy order him.
In being so ordered, the deacon lets Christ use his natural and acquired gifts
as doorways for grace to enter and increase the spiritual potency of his
presence to those whom he serves. When he allows the holy to order
him, the deacon allows for an
effective ministry but not one that depends upon any "bag of tricks" that might
have been used in business or in a secular career. Here is where some deacons
run afoul and become emotionally exhausted or suffer a form of insecurity or
self-doubt. They may ask themselves: "Why aren't people responding to me? I'm a
successful businessman, a professional. I'm effective at my job; why not at my ministry?"
The transition that needs to be made is one that takes a man from relying on
his pool of natural talents and years of professional experience to becoming a
man who relies on the depth of his communion with Christ, one who relies on his
permanent availability to the servant identity of Jesus. How does a man come to
rely on this depth of communion? How, in other words, does one live the
character of his ordination?
Participation in the Actions of Christ the Servant
First, this communion is secured by the very actions of the deacon in
the course of his ministry of the Word. The
deacon is given the privilege and right to proclaim the Gospel. By virtue of
his ordination, only he and the priest can utter the very words of Christ in
the midst of liturgy. Here, we have a wellspring of intimacy for the deacon and
Christ. As the deacon meditates upon the Gospel, Christ draws him into His
heart. There, in the heart, Christ speaks to the deacon about His own servant
heart, sharing with the deacon Jesus' own will for him regarding ministry and
service. The Gospel becomes a point of securing communion with Christ so that
ministry flows from an interior place for the good of the people served.
Ministry begins and ends in communion with Christ.
Second, the simple service around the altar that assists the priest and keeps the movements of
liturgical prayer flowing smoothly becomes a point of secured communion with
Christ for the deacon. These movements are so modest that they become
effortless over time, thus freeing the heart to be with Christ in the everydayness
of Nazareth. Here in the "hidden" simplicity of what are common or ordinary
duties—arranging vessels, placing books, pouring wine, reading
petitions—the deacon intercedes for the people of the diocese, who may
find it hard to discover Christ in ordinary daily circumstances, where love may
be void and only duty and suffering are present.
Third, communion with Christ is secured in and through the specific
diocesan ministry of each deacon. Here, in
the myriad ways deacons witness to the Paschal Mystery in the secular
world, the altar is brought to the culture
by the grace of Holy Orders. In a way, the deacon continues his ministry at the
altar by "enthroning the Word of God" in the matrix of culture. [8]
Hopefully, through his diaconal formation, the deacon learned how not only to
minister Christ to the people but
also to carry Him in prayerful consciousness within the depths of his own heart
right in the midst of ministering.
Through these three foundational realities in the deacon's life, he remains
available to the "owner" who branded him.
Christ calls out to the deacon from within the brand mark, from within the
wound that divine love imparted upon him on his ordination day. There is no
separation between the mysteries of the altar at which the deacon assists and
the effect these mysteries have upon his will and conscience as he embeds
himself within culture to serve the laity. This service flows from the deacon's
intimacy with the servant love of Christ. This intimacy is the result of
Christ's actions upon the deacon and the deacon's subjective openness to Christ
at the point of the wound. Unlike a physical wound, this spiritual wound is
to remain open so that the deacon can
receive from there the love that Christ is pouring into his soul. By desiring
for Christ to configure him to a life of self-emptying, the deacon supports and
serves the laity in their call to transform culture along the lines of the
Eucharistic Mystery—that is, to give witness to the love-infused Body of
Christ in public.
If it is true that the deacon "presides at the Liturgy of Charity" [9]
and the priest, at the Liturgy of the Eucharist, then it is also true that the
deacon gives Christ the freedom to place oil and wine (i.e., divine charity,
Luke 10:34) into the needs of the Church as She labors to give witness to the
love of Christ in public. In his ministry to the laity, he empties himself of
social standing so that Christ can act in him to encourage the Church to give
witness. The deacon makes himself available to Christ so that He can configure
himself to the suffering of those who feel the cost of standing up for the
Gospel in public. The deacon remains empty with them, depending solely on the power of grace. This
emptiness is full because it flows from the sacramental character that defines
the deacon and from the mutual participation of deacon and the laity at the
altar.
If the deacon is faithful to his call in all its complexity, he will be
able to encourage the laity to give rise to their greatest gift in this or any
age: to become the Church in public. This witness flows from the altar, from
the sacrificial service of Christ, a reality the Church consumes in love at the
Eucharist. Fidelity to Holy Orders flows from a communion with Christ that is
expressed in two different but complementary directions: priestly sacrifice
(priesthood) and service to those who suffer (diaconate), so that in the end,
Christ will be all in all (the mission of the laity). Christ brings us all to
His Mystery so He can accomplish it in us. [10] Having
communion with the sacrifice will compel us to service, not by force but by the
singular beauty of the One who has come and loved us to the end. The deacon's
sacramental character, if he stays open to its transforming grace, communicates
to him a reality that enlivens and purifies his own conscience and will redound
to the benefit of the Church.
This reality is clear: among the members of the Church is a rank of
clergy living a lay life so as to give witness to the servant mystery of
Christ. This mystery is united to and flows from the altar but also reaches
into the very fabric of ordinary life. This reach, by virtue of Holy Orders,
touches the culture by way of the gift of a man who remains permanently open at
the point of one of Christ's greatest mysteries: the divine is ordered toward
self-forgetfulness, service, self-emptying, and self-effacing charity. It is
the deacon who is charged to keep this facet of the mystery before the Church's
eyes and heart so that the laity may know by way of his ministry how close
Christ is to them in their courageous witness to the Gospel, and so that priests may know that their
sacrifices for the Gospel are not without fruit. It is a fruit so tangible that he can see it before his eyes every
Sunday as the laity process forward to the altar with the gifts of bread and
wine, symbols of the transformed culture for which they labor in Christ. And
ready to receive these gifts from the laity in order to give them to the priest
is the deacon, the one who facilitates charity, who, in the Spirit, circulates
the divine self-giving by his ministry. May this divine self-giving, this wound
upon the heart of the deacon, this brand mark of love always be the site of
deepest intimacy between the deacon and the Lord.
ENDNOTES:
[1] Congregation for Clergy, Directory
for the Ministry and Life of Permanent Deacons (Vatican City: Libraria Editrice
Vaticane, 1998), nos. 7 and 46.
[2] See David Toups, Reclaiming our Priestly Character (Omaha: IPF Publications, 2008), 82.
[3] Father Guy Mansini OSB, private correspondence with author, June 2010.
[4] Congregation for Clergy, Directory
for the Ministry and Life of Permanent Deacons
(Vatican City: Libraria Editrice Vaticane, 1998), nos. 7 and 46.
[5] Richard Gaillardetz's emphasis on the
deacon's relationship to the bishop is crucial here. In practice, many have
placed too much of an emphasis upon the parish work of the deacon and thus, his
relationship to a pastor. Once ordained to the diaconate, a man is sent forth
by Christ in a permanent relationship to the one who oversees the Church. This
deacon is called to serve him, the bishop, in his ministry of oversight.
Richard Gaillardetz, "On the Theological Integrity of the Diaconate," in O.
Cummings et al., ed., Theology of the Diaconate (New Jersey: Paulist Press, 2005), 87ff. I would add that at its
spiritual core, ordination establishes a man in an unbreakable openness to the
mysteries of Christ in a public way—i.e., as one sent from the bishop.
[6] This Scripture story throws much light
on the dynamism of the diaconal character, especially his moving freely in
Christ from altar to evangelize the culture and back again to the altar. See my
A Deacon's Retreat (New Jersey: Paulist Press, 2009).
[7] See Hans Urs von Balthasar, Love
Alone is Credible (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2004), 116.
[8] Pope Benedict XVI, Meeting with the Clergy
of the Diocese of Rome, "The Importance of the Permanent Diaconate" (February
7, 2008), http://www.catholic.org/international....
[9] See Keating, A Deacon's Retreat, 66–67: "We deacons do not preside at the
Eucharistic liturgy; rather, we intone, in its dismissal rite, the initiation of the liturgy of charity, charging all to 'go in the peace of Christ to love
and serve the Lord.' This presidency is not a juridical one, but rather one of
moral and spiritual collaboration with the mission of the laity. Unlike the
priest, our words do not bring
about the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist. In fact, the deacon utters
no words in the 'liturgy' he presides over, except in the silence of his heart
as it communes with the mystery that has claimed his life, '[I] came not to be
served but to serve' (Mt 20:28). At the dismissal rite, the Eucharist
'processes' out of the church in the hearts of parishioners not as an inert
memory ... but as a living call from Christ to go and transform culture. We
preside by distributing the fruit
of the Mass—the divine life within us. This service is our form of being in
personae Christi: Christ acting in us. We do not share in the
priesthood. Since we share in Orders, however, we receive a portion of the
mystery of Christ's own actions. The
priest shares in Christ's sacrificial self-offering in priestly thanksgiving
"as head"—whereas we who are deacons receive that portion of Christ's own
action which insures that the love of many will not grow cold (Mt 24:12)."
[10] Jean Corbon, The Wellspring of Worship (San Francisco: Ignatius, 2005),
151.
Related Ignatius Insight Articles and Excerpts:
• The Seminary as Nazareth: Formation in a School of Prayer | Dn. James Keating, Ph.D.
• Surrendering to the Healing Power of Christ's Own Chastity | Dn. James Keating, Ph.D.
• St. John Vianney's Pastoral Plan | Fr. John Cihak
• The Blessed Virgin Mary's Role in the Celibate Priest's
Spousal and Paternal Love | Fr. John Cihak
• The Priest as Man, Husband, and Father | Fr. John Cihak
• Holy Christians Guarantee Holy Priests | Bishop Fulton J. Sheen
• Priest as Pastor, Servant and Shepherd | Fr. James McCarthy
• The Religion of Jesus | Blessed Columba
Marmion | From Christ, The Ideal
of the Priest
• Why Preaching | Peter John Cameron, O.P.
• Satan and the Saint | The Feast Day of St. John Vianney | Carl E. Olson
• The Ingredient for Priestly Vocations |
Rev. Jacek Stefanski
• Becoming a Man of God | An interview with Fr. Larry Richards
• The Year for Priests and Its
Patron | Sandra Miesel
Rev. Mr. James Keating, Ph.D., is Director of Theological Formation at the Institute
of Priestly Formation at Creighton University, Omaha. Before joining the staff of the IPF Deacon Keating taught
moral and spiritual theology for 13 years in the School of Theology at the
Pontifical College Josephinum in Ohio. He has given over 400 workshops,
retreats and days of reflection on the Catholic spiritual/moral life. In the
field of his professional research, the interpenetration of the spiritual and
moral life, Deacon Keating has authored or edited ten books and dozens of
essays for theological journals.
December 25, 2012
Seeing the Face of Christ at Christmas
Seeing the Face of Christ at Christmas | Bill Maguire | Catholic World Report
Blessed John Paul II’s theology of the body helps us recognize the true presence of Christ in those around us.
There was a blind man named Bartimaeus who called out to
Jesus: “Son of David, have pity of me” (Mk 10:46-52). In answer to his plea,
Jesus responds in the most remarkable way, “What do you want me to do for you?”
In order to get some sense of just how remarkable Jesus’ response is, we must
pause for a moment and consider who Jesus is: he is the all-mighty,
all-powerful, eternal Son of God. Jesus’ words, then, are the words of the Word
of God.
The Gospels are no mere recollection of Jesus’ words and
deeds. Rather, as writings inspired by the Holy Spirit, they have a power that
cannot be found in any other form of literature: namely, the power to re-call
and make present to us Jesus’ words and
deeds. Read prayerfully, in the Spirit, the Gospels place us in the real
presence of Jesus Christ and offer us the opportunity to truly encounter him. Thus,
it is not only to Bartimaeus but to us that Jesus asks: “What do you want me to
do for you?” God, himself, is asking us what we want him to do for us.
Bartimaeus’ desire—“I want to see”—is one that Christians
feel with particular intensity during the Christmas season. We are all touched
with the deep desire to have been there, to have seen this remarkable child
born to Mary and Joseph in Bethlehem. Yet, have we taken the time to consider
exactly what we would have seen had we been there on that first Christmas?
Would we have seen just one more example of what is an all
too familiar scene: a poor couple bringing yet another child into the seeming
endless cycle of misery and poverty? Would their example have inspired in us
that brand of “compassion” which promotes, as a solution to poverty, education
in reproductive rights for women and the widespread availability of
contraception and abortion? Would we have been moved with such pity for Jesus
that we would take steps to ensure that no more children like him would come
into the world? Or would we have recognized, like Simeon and Ann later would,
the face of God in this child? And, in seeing the face of God in the
countenance of a human child, would we have seen the great dignity and worth of
all human persons?
December 24, 2012
"Linked to God’s glory on high is peace on earth among men."
From Benedict XVI's homily given at the Midnight Mass on the Solemnity of the Nativity of the Lord:
Linked to God’s glory on high is peace on earth among men. Where God is not
glorified, where he is forgotten or even denied, there is no peace either.
Nowadays, though, widespread currents of thought assert the exact opposite: they
say that religions, especially monotheism, are the cause of the violence and the
wars in the world. If there is to be peace, humanity must first be liberated
from them. Monotheism, belief in one God, is said to be arrogance, a cause of
intolerance, because by its nature, with its claim to possess the sole truth, it
seeks to impose itself on everyone. Now it is true that in the course of
history, monotheism has served as a pretext for intolerance and violence. It is
true that religion can become corrupted and hence opposed to its deepest
essence, when people think they have to take God’s cause into their own hands,
making God into their private property. We must be on the lookout for these
distortions of the sacred. While there is no denying a certain misuse of
religion in history, yet it is not true that denial of God would lead to peace.
If God’s light is extinguished, man’s divine dignity is also extinguished. Then
the human creature would cease to be God’s image, to which we must pay honour in
every person, in the weak, in the stranger, in the poor. Then we would no
longer all be brothers and sisters, children of the one Father, who belong to
one another on account of that one Father. The kind of arrogant violence that
then arises, the way man then despises and tramples upon man: we saw this in all
its cruelty in the last century. Only if God’s light shines over man and within
him, only if every single person is desired, known and loved by God is his
dignity inviolable, however wretched his situation may be. On this Holy Night,
God himself became man; as Isaiah prophesied, the child born here is “Emmanuel”,
God with us (Is 7:14). And down the centuries, while there has been
misuse of religion, it is also true that forces of reconciliation and goodness
have constantly sprung up from faith in the God who became man. Into the
darkness of sin and violence, this faith has shone a bright ray of peace and
goodness, which continues to shine.
So Christ is our peace, and he proclaimed peace to those far away and to those
near at hand (cf. Eph 2:14, 17). How could we now do other than pray to
him: Yes, Lord, proclaim peace today to us too, whether we are far away or near
at hand. Grant also to us today that swords may be turned into ploughshares (Is
2:4), that instead of weapons for warfare, practical aid may be given to the
suffering. Enlighten those who think they have to practise violence in your
name, so that they may see the senselessness of violence and learn to recognize
your true face. Help us to become people “with whom you are pleased” – people
according to your image and thus people of peace.
Read the entire homily on the Vatican site. I suspect it won't be long before there are reports stating, "The Pope bashes on pantheism and polytheism", and, "Benedict XVI says atheists are prone to violence." Regardless, Merry Christmas to one and to all! Christ is born! Glorify Him!
"The Mystery Made Present To Us" by Fr. Alfred Delp, S.J.
The Mystery Made Present To Us | Fr. Alfred Delp, S.J. |
Pre-Christmas Reflection Preached in Munich, December 22, 1942
The following is an excerpt from Advent of the Heart:
Seasonal Sermons and Prison Writings by Alfred Delp, S.J., priest and martyr.
The meaning of our Christian holy days is not primarily our external holiday
celebration, but that particular mysteries of God happen to us, and that we
respond. Something in the deepest center of our being is meant here, more than
the exterior symbols can even indicate. Anyone who lacks spiritual eyes, and
whose soul has not become open and watchful, will not understand the reason we
are so often festive in the cycle of the liturgical year. The Church stands
before us with great gestures and great pomp and ceremonial rites. This is only
an attempt to indicate something that reaches much deeper and must be taken
much more seriously.
We need to celebrate holy days in three ways. First, by recalling a historical
event. The feasts are always based on verifiable, historical facts. We should
not just get carried away with unbridled enthusiasm. What is really going on?
This is a question of discernment and recognition. Seen from God's perspective,
there is always a clearly defined event connected to the mystery, a clear
statement intended, a fact.
This brings us to the second point. Within all of the foregoing, a great
mystery--the Mysterium--is hidden. Something happens between Heaven and earth
that passes all understanding. This mystery is made present to us, continues in
the world till the end of time, and is always in the process of happening--the
abiding Mysterium.
These two points are followed by the third way in which we must consider the
feast to be serious and important. Through the historical facts and through the
workings of the mystery, the holy day simultaneously issues a challenge to each
individual life, a message that demands a particular attitude and an interior
decision from each person to whom it is proclaimed.
The Christmas celebration is the birth of the Lord. It is verifiable that
Christ was born on this night. The great mystery behind this is the marriage
covenant of God with mankind; that mankind is fulfilled only insofar as it has
grown into this covenant. Concretely, it is meaningful to establish what this
covenant, which began between divinity and humanity on that Holy Night, signifies
as a challenge and message for each one of us.
In view of these preconditions, we want to read some passages from the Holy
Scriptures about the mystery of Christmas--the three readings of the three
Christmas Masses.
1. The Epistle for the Third Christmas Mass: "In many and various ways God
spoke in times past to our fathers through the prophets; but in these last days
He has spoken to us through a Son, whom He appointed the heir of the cosmos, through
whom also He created the world. He reflects the glory of God and bears the very
stamp of His nature, upholding the universe by His Word of power" (Heb
1:1-3). Basically, before moving on to personal devotions and contemplation or
reading stories of the Holy Night, one should read these weighty verses of
Saint Paul to be spiritually touched by the impact of this holy day we are
celebrating. We Germans run the risk of concealing Christmas behind bourgeois
customs and sentimenta1ity, behind all those traditions that make this holiday
dear and precious to us. Yet perhaps the deep meaning is still hiding behind
all those things. What this celebration is about is the founding of a final
order for the world, a new center of meaning for all existence. We are not
celebrating some children's holiday, but rather the fact that God has spoken
His ultimate Word to the world. Christ is the ultimate Word of God to the
world. One must let this idea really sink in these days when people are seeking
new values. If you take God seriously--this relationship between God and the
world--and if you know how important God is to society as well as to private
life, then this has to touch you. The ultimate Word of God to the world! God
does not contradict Himself and does not repeat Himself. One must use every
ounce of willpower to comprehend this, and let this concept sink in: Christ, as
the ultimate Word of God to the world.
And Christ came and placed Himself before us as a message. That He came as a
child proves how much it matters to God that the message be accepted. From this
Holy Night onward, the world has had the possibility of living in nearness to
God or living apart from God. The entire Epistle wants to communicate one
thing: take this, take what has happened here, really seriously. What came into
the world is the very image of the Divine Being, is God Himself. He lifted
mankind out of every false order in this consecrated night, in this blessed
night. What is said to us here gives life its meaning, individual life as well
as the life of all mankind.
The ultimate Word of God to mankind. This idea is expanded upon as follows:
2. The Epistle of the Second Mass of Christmas: "The goodness and kindness
of God our Savior appeared; He saved us, not because of deeds done by us in
righteousness, but by virtue of His own mercy" (Tit 3:4-7). The impact of
these facts is further developed in two ways. What does this mean for man's
inner reality, where he must come to an understanding of himself? And what does
it mean for the fundamental attitudes toward life, the point at which the
mystery becomes present and calls for a concrete response? To begin with the
first question: What has happened to the measure of our being, through this
Word that God has spoken into the world? The goodness and loving-kindness of
God have appeared, so that we know and seriously must recognize ourselves as
the substance of a divine commitment to man. Since then, God has taken no other
position in relation to us than this "benignitas et humanitas [goodness
and lovingkindness]". Because God's commitment upholds each and every one
of us, even to the extent of His sharing in the very poorest and most helpless
phase of human infancy, He has fully realized and made Himself accessible in
the Incarnation. And now, in the background, our great, gruesome time stands
up.
"Not because of deeds done by us in righteousness, but by virtue of His
own mercy" (Tit 3 :5). The second tiling we need to know is that it is not
because man is proud and worthy, but because God upholds us. Man needs to know that
we live from grace; we live from God's merciful commitment to mankind, from His
mercy. Not as miserable wretches, however, but renewed in spirit; so that we
know our intrinsic dignity, know that we are raised up above and beyond all
else, because we mean so much to God. This is how we attain maturity in the
presence of God.
3. Now--in the Epistle of the First Mass of Christmas--the effect of the
foregoing is described. We will not be abused and violated, not even forced to
be good or forced to love. We are challenged to do so, but it calls for a
decision. The grace of God our Savior "teaches us to renounce godlessness and
to live moral, upright, and pious lives in this world" (Tit 2:12). There
are three great fundamental attitudes there, three great, foreign qualities of
Christians in the world, three great commandments for perfection of life.
First [renouncing godlessness]: if the meaning of our lives is that God is
really in covenant with mankind, then there can be no more godlessness--that
would be loss of being--there is no more will to live. Godlessness is a calumniation
of the divine life.
Second [regarding moral, upright, and godly living]: man should recognize that
his innermost purpose is to find the way home to God and to be caught up in His
life, to seek God for Himself. The fundamental concept of man in this world
never can be that of certainty, but rather that of wait- ing for this ultimate
revelation of that which began in the Holy Night. Such people, who know they
are hastening to meet a great fulfillment, are always people under way.
Third [to become His own followers]: [1] these are people of loneliness, the
people whom God wanted to have as His people, gripped by a great passion that
God be well pleased, and ablaze with the divine fire that will be cast upon the
earth.
And now, here is the last question: What does all of this mean today--the
message of the great Kyrios, the
Lord, the message of the fundamental attitude that the Holy Night demands? This
is no Christmas life today. Neither is it a Christmas life according to
people's inner attitude. Neither is it a Christmas holy day according to a
religious perspective. The world is hostile and rejects everything. But we are
experiencing the other side of Christmas. All of these blessings have already
been taken away, and the night has descended again.
The first message is that the Kyrios,
the Lord, is coming. The Lord does not stand in the center anymore. He is
replaced by the power brokers. How man keeps lapsing into heresy! The power
brokers, under whose power man has gone astray, stand in the center. One no
longer sees God as the center of the world, as the foundational support. And what
has developed out of this? We are standing without any foundation--we have
nothing permanent anymore. There is no more talk of man's life being dependent
upon mercy. Therefore the world has become so unmerciful. When has anyone taken
away more from man than this? This is a time in which "apparuit benignitas
et humanitas [the goodness and loving-kindness of God our Savior
appearing]" is no longer acknowledged. What has become of man, that he
does not want to be human in relation to God anymore? Beforehand, the Christmas
words were sent packing. [2] This is a world in which it no longer can be said
that "we await the great revelation of the Lord", a world that must
cling to each day because it already knows that, in mere seconds, everything can
be over. There is nothing left of peace and security. This is a world that no
longer knows of the Holy Night, of the Consecration-Night, the Christ-Mass. [3]
That is the one thing that we honestly have to see. The world in which we stand
is un-Christmaslike, not because
God is unmerciful, but rather because man has outlawed the message, and there
is no room anymore for the promise.
Nevertheless, we must also look at this in a positive way. For us personally,
this message of the Holy Night still does contain its great meaning and
content. There are two things we need to have in terms of consciousness and
attitude, and we should take possession of them today: we should not come to
Midnight Mass as if we do not live in the year 1942. The year must be redeemed
along with everything else. And from the Gloria, we have to take with us the
peace and faith in the glory of God. There is nothing else that surpasses this night,
and nothing that should be taken as more important than this event. Whatever
may happen around us, let us not break down, for then we would not be taking
the Lord seriously, or what we know about consecrated people seriously, or what
we know about these messages. Therefore, deep down, we are the people who are
comforted; and we are the last refuge for the homeless people who do not know anything
about the Lord anymore. May we know about the indisputable fact of this Child
and not let ourselves be disconcerted, not even by our own great un-freedom. "Apparuit
benignitas et humanitas [the goodness and lovingkindness of God our Savior
appearing]" (Tit 3:4). That should find its expression in the positive
attitudes we take with us from this experience of the Holy Night. May we impart
the goodness. May we attend to humanity again, and witness to the Lordship of
God again, and know of His grace and mercy, and have gentle hands for other
people again. And may we go away from Christmas Eve with the consolation that
we mean so much to God that no external distress can rob us of this ultimate
consolation. Our hearts must become strong, to make the divine heartbeat into
the law of life again. God's readiness is established, but our gates are
locked.
These should be the meaning of our wartime Christmas:
-- that we petition Him,
-- that He redeems us through the mystery,
-- that we are rich and capable enough through God's comfort to give mankind
the comfort that it needs so much,
-- that we go away from this celebration as the great comforters, as the great
knowers, the great blessed ones who know what it means to be consoled by God.
Endnotes:
[1] The context of Tit 2:12 clarifies Fr. Delp's point. The complete text, translated
from the Latin, reads: "The grace of God our Savior has appeared to all
mankind. It teaches us to renounce godlessness and the worldly passions, and to
live sober, upright, and godly lives in this world. Meanwhile, we await, in
blessed hope, the glorious coming of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ,
who gave Himself up for us to redeem us from all iniquity and to purify us so
that we become His own: a people who are pleasing to Him, who follow in good
works" (Tit 2:11-15). -- TRANS.
[2] References are to Nazi regulations restricting or forbidding Christian practice
and customs. -- TRANS.
[3] The German word for Christmas is Weihnacht, but Fr. Deip wrote "WeiheNacht" (Consecration-Night). Compare "Meditation
for the Fourth Sunday of Advent, 1944", note 13, p. ii. -- TRANS.
Related IgnatiusInsight.com Articles:
• Remembering Father Alfred Delp, S.J., Priest and Martyr |
A Conversation with Father Karl Adolf Kreuser, S.J.
• Christmas: Sign of Contradiction, Season of Redemption |
James V. Schall, S.J.
• "Hail,
Full of Grace": Mary, the Mother of Believers | Joseph Cardinal
Ratzinger
• "Conceived
by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary" | Hans Urs von Balthasar
• Archbishop Fulton
Sheen on Advent and Eternity
• The God in the
Cave | G.K. Chesterton
• Immaculate
Mary, Matchless in Grace | John Saward
• "Conceived
by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary" | Hans Urs von Balthasar
Alfred Delp: Priest and Martyr | Advent
of the Heart
Seasonal Sermons and Prison Writings, 1941-1944
Fr. Alfred Delp was a German Jesuit priest who was imprisoned in
Berlin. At the time of his arrest, he was the Rector of St.
Georg Church in Munich, and had a reputation for being a gripping,
dynamic preacher, and one who was an outspoken critic of the
Nazi regime. He was an important figure in the Resistance movement
against Nazism.
Accused of conspiring against the Nazi government, he was arrested in
1944, tortured, imprisoned, and executed on Feb 2, 1945.
While in prison, Fr. Delp was able to write a few meditations found in
this book, which also includes his powerful reflections
from prison during the Advent season about the profound spiritual
meaning and lessons of Advent, as well as his sermons he gave
on the season of Advent at his parish in Munich. These meditations were
smuggled out of Berlin and read by friends and parishioners
of St. Georg in Munich.
His approach to Advent, the season that prepares us for Christmas, is
what Fr. Delp called an "Advent of the heart." More than
just preparing us for Christmas, it is a spiritual program, a way of
life. He proclaimed that our personal, social and historical
circumstances, even suffering, offer us entry into the true Advent, our
personal journey toward a meeting and dialogue with God.
Indeed, his own life, and great sufferings, illustrated the true Advent
he preached and wrote about.
From his very prison cell he presented a timeless spiritual message,
and in an extreme situation, his deep faith gave him the
courage to draw closer to God, and to witness to the truth even at the
cost of his own life. These meditations will challenge
and inspire all Christians to embark upon that same spiritual journey
toward union with God, a journey that will transform our lives.
"As one of the last witnesses who knew Fr. Alfred Delp personally, I am
very pleased this book will make him better known in
America. The more one reads his writings, the more one clearly
recognizes the prophetic message for our times! Like his contemporary,
Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Delp ranks among the great prophets who endured the
horror of Nazism and handed down a powerful message
for our times." -- Karl Kreuser, S.J., from the Foreword
The Pope’s Book About Christmas
The Pope’s Book About Christmas | Thomas P. Harmon | Catholic World Report
Jesus of Nazareth: The Infancy Narratives emphasizes that the joy of Christmas is rooted in the revelation of God’s humility.
In the first volume of Jesus of Nazareth, Pope Benedict says that the purpose of writing a
book about Jesus—the whole reason why Jesus is important—is because he is the
one who brings God to men. In The
Infancy Narratives , Benedict makes it clear
that when Jesus brings God to men the result is joy. Joy is the characteristic response to the coming of Christ
and it suffuses the early pages of Matthew and Luke. We see the joy of Zechariah, Mary, Elizabeth, the unborn
John the Baptist, the shepherds and angels, Simeon and Anna, and the Magi from
the East. The joy of Christmas is
further the result of the most stupendous revelation of all: the revelation of
God’s humility. God accomplishes
the utter reversal of human expectations in the appearance of the Son of God in
the newborn baby in the manger in a cave outside of the city with no place to
lay his head. In the Christ child,
the power of God is revealed in his humility: only the highest can, out of
love, descend to the lowest with no diminution. Only the all-powerful God accomplishes salvation through the
renunciation of power. Only the
infancy of God could bring hope to the poor and the sick, the captive and the
sinner. The revelation of the
humility of thes true Son of God is made all the more poignant by the
deliberate choice of the evangelists to juxtapose Jesus with Caesar Augustus,
who also claims to be a son of God.
The shadow of the Cross, therefore, also lurks menacingly
throughout the early life of Jesus: the gift of myrrh from the Magi, used to
anoint a corpse; the prophecy of Simeon to Mary that her heart will be pierced
by a sword; the rage of Herod and the slaughter of the Holy Innocents; and the
deliberate juxtaposition of Christ and Caesar, which points to the inexorable
conflict between the humble Christ, who does not grasp after equality with the
Father and whose kingdom is not of this world and Caesar, whose presumption
makes him grasp after divine prerogatives.
The book is divided into four chapters and an epilogue. The first chapter deals with general
reflections on the origin of Jesus, the second chapter is about the
annunciation stories of John the Baptist and Jesus, the third chapter reflects
on the birth of Jesus in Bethlehem, the final chapter takes up the visit from
the wise men and the flight into Egypt, and the epilogue considers the finding
of Jesus in the Temple when he is twelve years old. The first chapter functions as a general introduction not
only to the current volume, but to the whole of Jesus of Nazareth. After
all, the question of Jesus’ identity is the one Benedict is most fundamentally
trying to answer with his books.
It is also a perfect entry point into the question for the modern
reader.
It is very hard to get a clear vision of the figure of Jesus
himself using the methods of exegesis that have been dominant in the Church and
the academy in recent times.
Twentieth century biblical scholars are notoriously divided about Jesus’
identity, a division which somewhat belies their claim to superior rigor or
accuracy. Historical-critical
scholarship was born of the marriage of theology with the methods of modern
science in an attempt to produce more rigorous interpretations of biblical
texts. Modern biblical exegesis brings to bear powerful historical and
linguistic tools, allowing the reader almost unprecedented access to the
environmental, political, linguistic, and cultural context of the Gospels. They
ought to be able to sharpen our view of biblical characters and themes. Instead, Jesus too often tends to
disappear into the weeds of the politics of the ancient near east, comparative
religion, or the speculations of cultural anthropology.
Investigating Jesus with the historical-critical method can
often be like trying to understand a human being through the use of an electron
microscope
December 22, 2012
“Blessed are you among women and blessed is the fruit of your womb.” On the Fourth Sunday of Advent
Readings:
• Mi 5:1-4a
• Ps 80:2-3, 15-16, 18-19
• Heb 10:5-10
• Lk 1:39-45
St. Augustine, in his treatise, “On Holy Virginity,” made
this profound, even startling, statement: “Thus also her nearness as a Mother
would have been of no profit to Mary, had she not borne Christ in her heart
after a more blessed manner than in her flesh.”
In that single line, the great Doctor anticipated the
objections voiced by many Protestants while also explaining the honor and love
shown by Catholics (and Eastern Orthodox) for the Theotokos, the Mother of God. I heard and repeated, while
growing up in a Protestant home of Fundamentalist persuasion, many of those
objections: “Mary was just an ordinary woman,” “Mary was not sinless,” and, of
course, “Catholics worship Mary!” People would sometimes go to extremes to
avoid any appearance of praise for Mary. A close relative once told me that
Mary had merely been a “biological vessel” for the baby Jesus!
Two things changed my mind: reading actual Catholic teaching about Mary and
re-reading Scripture. The first came from a sense of fairness toward what I
didn’t know; the second came from a growing (and hardly characteristic) humility about what I thought I
knew. Sure, I had read the opening chapters of the Gospel of Luke many times.
But I must have read it dozens of times before I began to slowly comprehend the
astonishment of the Annunciation, the wonder of Elizabeth’s ecstatic greeting,
the magnitude of the Magnificat.
Today’s Gospel reading follows the Annunciation and immediately
precedes the Canticle of Mary. The young Mary, told by Gabriel that she had
found favor with God and would bear a son, eventually sets out to see
Elizabeth, also pregnant with a son. Having already been confirmed by a
heavenly messenger of God, Mary was then confirmed by her own flesh and blood
in words heard and repeated by countless faithful through the centuries:
“Blessed are you among women and blessed is the fruit of your womb.”
To be blessed is to have found favor with God, to be filled with the grace—the
supernatural life—of God. It is to possess the kingdom by belonging to the King
(cf. Matt 5:3, 10). As mother of the King of kings, Mary bore the kingdom
within her. As mother of the Messiah, she is also the mother of the Church.
Pope John Paul II, in Redemptoris Mater (1987),
wrote that “in her new motherhood in the Spirit, Mary embraces each and every
one in the Church, and embraces each and every one through the Church” (par.
47).
Mary and Elizabeth, bearing their sons—one a prophet, the
other the Son of God—prefigure the Church that would later be born from the
side of the crucified Lord and made manifest on Pentecost (see CCC 766, 1076).
Blessed by the Father, impregnated by the power of the Holy Spirit, and filled
with the Son, the Virgin brings joy and gladness into the dark, silent womb of
man’s deepest longing.
Like St. Augustine, John Paul II provided a profound reflection on the belief
and faith of Mary. In the expression “Blessed are you who believed,” he wrote,
“we can therefore rightly find a kind of ‘key’ which unlocks for us the
innermost reality of Mary, whom the angel hailed as ‘full of grace.’ If as
‘full of grace’ she has been eternally present in the mystery of Christ,
through faith she became a sharer in that mystery in every extension of her
earthly journey” (par. 19). The miracle of Mary’s pregnancy and Virgin birth go
hand in hand with the mystery of faith.
At Christmas we celebrate the birth of the Christ child
while recognizing that Christ always remains in the heart of Mary. Having given
birth to the Savior at one particular moment in time, Mary has continued to
give the Savior to the world ever since. It is her one desire, her unending
gift of joy and life to each of us. “And how does this happen to me,” we ask ourselves,
“that the mother of my Lord should come to me?”
(This "Opening the Word" column originally appeared in the December 20, 2009, edition of Our Sunday Visitor newspaper.)
Pope's year-end address to curia: "Whoever defends God is defending man."
by Carl E. Olson on the CWR blog
If you've not read the entire address,
you'll want to. Below is the section about family, marriage, and
gender, a passage causing some hand-wringing among those who apparently
haven't figured out that (gasp!) the Pope and the Catholic Church does
and always will support and defend marriage as a life-long bond between a
man and a woman. The Telegraph, for example, has the headline, "Pope says future of mankind at stake over gay marriage",
and the subhead: "Pope Benedict XVI has weighed in on a heated debate
over gay marriage, criticising new concepts of the traditional family
and warning that mankind itself was at stake."
Of course, the
Holy Father never mentions "gay marriage", or even the word "marriage",
for his criticisms are aimed at something deeper and broader than the
frivilous narcissism and flawed understanding of equality found
throughout the "gay marriage" movement. They are focused on what might
be called a secularist form of neo-gnosticism, which seeks to remake
human nature according to the destructive whims and passions of the age.
"Man and woman as created realities, as the nature of the human being,
no longer exist," Benedict XVI says about this anti-human approach, "Man
calls his nature into question. From now on he is merely spirit and
will. The manipulation of nature, which we deplore today where our
environment is concerned, now becomes man’s fundamental choice where he
himself is concerned. From now on there is only the abstract human
being, who chooses for himself what his nature is to be."
The
attacks on marriage throughout the West are serious and significant, but
are one big battle in an even bigger war, which is ultimately about God
himself, as the Pope makes clear.
Six Days, Eight Funerals, Countless Tears
Six Days, Eight Funerals, Countless Tears | John Burger | Catholic World Report
St. Rose of Lima Catholic Church in Newtown, Conn., concludes a grief-filled week burying 8 children
During the frenzied response to the devastating Newtown,
Conn., school shooting last week, a policeman picked up one of the
first-graders who had been shot. She was still alive, but not for long. The
six-year-old lived long enough for the officer to say to her, “I love you.” And
then the life slipped from her small body.
Deacon Don Naiman elicited gasps and cries from mourners as
he related that story during the funeral Dec. 21 of Olivia Rose Engel.
“That officer was the voice of Jesus Christ” to the girl,
Deacon Naiman said during his homily at St. Rose of Lima Catholic Church in
Newtown. “And I am convinced that he gently passed Olivia to the hands of the
Blessed Mother.”
He urged members of a large congregation that filled the
church to likewise “be the hand of Christ…to these beautiful parents” and to
others in the world.
It’s been an emotion-filled week in this bucolic New England
town, and Olivia’s funeral was one of eight at the church — all for children
who had not even made their first Communion. The final one was to take place Saturday,
just days before Christmas.
Earlier in the day, at 9:30, Connecticut Gov. Dannel Malloy
presided over a moment of silence at town hall to mark one week since
20-year-old Adam Lanza allegedly shot and killed 20 first-graders and six
educators at nearby Sandy Hook Elementary School. The bell at an Episcopal
church slowly tolled 26 times as heavy rain and strong winds ushered in the
first day of winter.
An hour later, hundreds of mourners filled St. Rose’s to
reflect on the life of 6-year-old Grace Audrey McDonnell and to hear the pastor
call for change.
December 21, 2012
My Secular, Jewish Father Loved Christmas
My Secular, Jewish Father Loved Christmas | Michael Coren | Catholic World Report
Some of God’s creatures are in the Church and do not even know it.
I have been
privileged to meet many of the finest and purest Christians in the world, some
of them Catholic and some not; mind you, most of the latter have since crossed
the river or are standing on the side, gathering their courage for the dive.
They have inspired me, influenced me, educated me, and changed my life.
But this and every
Christmas I think of a person who embodied the spirit of love, forgiveness,
sacrifice, and humanity more than anyone else I have ever encountered. Yet he
wasn’t even religious, let alone a Christian. He had never really been taught
about Christianity, knew little about Christian beliefs, and was convinced that
the sand-paper of hypocrisy had rubbed away much of the splendor of organized
faith. As for the Roman Catholic Church, he knew little and cared less.
He was a secular
Jew, his name was Phil Coren, and he was my father. And he loved
Christmas.
The season of magic
began for me at around 2:00 am on
Christmas Day morning. That was when I heard the distinctive sounds of the
London black taxi cab diesel engine driving up the suburban east London street
to my house where I lived and spent my formative years. To a child, work and
income mean nothing, which is probably the way it should be. I didn’t realize,
and my father would have been angry if I had realized, that he was not paid
when he didn’t work—but that whatever happened, he would always devote Christmas
Day to his wife and to his children, to what mattered most to him and to his
family.
So he worked 14
hours or more on Christmas Eve.
December 20, 2012
The End of the World As We Know It?
Note: The following was originally written for Our Sunday Visitor in late 2009, in part because of the movie, "2012", released at that time. I am posting it here in light of the interest about the Mayan calendar and the date of December 21, 2012.
-----------
T. S. Eliot, at
the conclusion of his 1925 poem, “The Hollow Men,” wrote, “This is the way the
world ends/Not with a bang but a whimper.” That’s a far cry from the cosmic
crisis depicted in recent apocalyptic books and films, including the
heavily-touted and movie “2012” (see sidebar below), which is crammed full of
bangs, computer-generated crashes, explosions, earthquakes, and floods.
Curiosity about
the end of the world abounds. For many, it is both frightening and exciting to
think they will witness The End. Wars and natural disasters are commonly
interpreted as signs of approaching apocalypse; future famines and ecological
crises are often promoted as hastening the same.
But are we
really living in the end times? And what, exactly, does the Catholic Church
teach about the end of the world?
These Are the
Last Days!
For Catholics, the terms
“end times” and “last days” refer both to the conclusion of history at some
future point, and also—even primarily—to the last two thousand years. “God,
after He spoke long ago to the fathers in the prophets in many portions and in
many ways,” wrote the author of the Epistle to the Hebrews, “in these last days
has spoken to us in His Son, whom He appointed heir of all things, through whom
also He made the world” (Heb 1:1-2). It was the Incarnation, the entrance of
God into time and space, which ushered in the end times and the last days.
In The Lord
of History (London:
Longmans, 1958), his study of Jesus Christ and history, Jean Cardinal Daniélou
wrote of how the first and second coming of the Lord are intimately connected:
“First of all, it means that the Last Things have already begun. The
resurrection of Christ is presented as the first and decisive act of the last
day. The Word of God took humanity to himself in the Incarnation, and cleansed
it through his precious blood, and brought it into his Father’s house forever
at his ascension. The work of salvation has been substantially done, everything
essential has been secured already …” Yet God’s work of salvation and judgment
still continues. “We are still waiting for that Judgment that will destroy the
world of corruption and establish the kingdom of saints. This twofold
relationship to something achieved and to something awaited specifies the
current phase of time, which is the epoch of the Church.” The message of the
gospel is that man can only be saved from the trials of history—especially sin
and death—through God’s work within temporal history.
The Kingdom
is the Key
Compared the
often fevered beliefs of certain fundamentalist groups, New Age groups,
extremist cults, and radical environmentalists, the Church’s teaching might
appear decidedly mundane, even boring. But false teachings and skewed
sensationalism cannot compare to the authentically radical and sensational
teachings of the Church about history, salvation, and the eschaton—the culmination of time and history. The
heart of this teaching is Jesus’ proclamation, made during his public ministry,
that he was establishing the Kingdom of God (Matt 12:28; Mk 4:11; Lk 8:1-10).
This everlasting kingdom was realized through his death, his resurrection, and
his ascension into heaven.
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