Carl E. Olson's Blog, page 197
September 8, 2012
The Gnostic Christ fails, the True Christ heals
A Scriptural Reflection on the Readings for Sunday, September 9, 2012, Twenty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time | Carl E. Olson
Readings:
Is 35:4-7a
Ps 146:7, 8-9, 9-10
Jas 2:1-5
Mk 7:31-37
How do you know the gnostic writings provide us with a less historically accurate depiction of Jesus than the Gospels?”
That question was put to me a few years ago after I had given a talk about The Da Vinci Code at a Catholic parish. The man who asked it was apparently upset I doubted Dan Brown’s claim that the so-called “Gnostic gospels” described a believable, human Jesus, while the four canonical Gospels had created a deity who had little or nothing to do with the real world.
My answer was simple: “I read them.” No need to take my word for it when the evidence is readily found on the printed page. The Gnostic “gospels” aren’t gospels in the sense Christians use the word. They lack historical narrative, concrete details, historical figures, believable people, and details about social and religious life. The Jesus they describe has hardly any interest in the material realm. After all, the primary goal of Gnosticism, which came to maturation in the second century, was to escape the physical world. The Gnostic Jesus talked endlessly (and often nonsensically), but wouldn’t get his hands dirty.
Compare that with today’s Gospel reading, the story of Jesus healing the deaf mute, which is unique to the Gospel of Mark. It is a masterful and pithy account, its literary filled with theological and spiritual riches. Jesus and the disciples were spending time in Gentile territory, circling north and then east before traveling south to the district of Decapolis, which is east of the Jordan River and south of the Sea of Galilee. During his previous visit to the region, Jesus had freed a man from demonic possession by sending the unclean spirits into a herd of swine (Mk. 5:1-20). Word of his return had apparently spread, and he was asked to heal a man who was both deaf and mute.
The primary source for Mark’s Gospel was Peter, and the detailed description of the healing indicates the head apostle was profoundly moved by what he witnessed. There are seven specific actions described by Jesus: he took the man away from the crowd, touched his finger to the man’s ears, spit, touched the man’s tongue, looked to heaven, groaned, and said, “Be opened!”
In many ancient cultures, saliva was believed to possess healing properties. What is perhaps more striking for the modern reader is the intimate physicality of the action, as when a mother uses her saliva to rub dirt from her child’s cheek. The healing was not the work of a dispassionate doctor, but of the Lover of Mankind, the healer of body and soul. The Son, in becoming man, did not reluctantly put on flesh and blood, but was truly Incarnate, embracing humanity fully, completely, wholly. “That power which may not be handled came down and clothed itself in members that may be touched,” wrote Ephrem the Syrian, the great fourth-century theologian, “that the desperate may draw near to him, that in touching his humanity they may discern his divinity.”
Whereas the Gnostic Christ fled the material realm and ultimately failed to meet man where he lives, the real Christ—the Creator of all things seen and unseen—entered into time and history, experiencing the heat, the hunger, the sorrow, the weariness, and the pain.
But this miracle, like all of Jesus’ healings, was about far more than relief from physical ailments and illness. It was a sign that the Kingdom was established, that streams of living water had been loosed in the desert, and that the poor were being offered the riches of faith and everlasting life. Jesus embraced all of humanity—Jew and Gentile, healthy and ill, hearing and deaf, speaking and mute—because each of us needs to be touched and transformed by his hands and his word.
So, one reason (out of many) the Gospels are far more believable than the Gnostic writings is they describe real people in the real world meeting a Man who really heals both body and soul.
(This "Opening the Word" column originally appeared in the September 6, 2009, issue of Our Sunday Visitor newspaper.)
"Come, all you faithful, let us hasten to the Virgin..."
for long before her conception in
the womb,
the one who was to be born of the stem of Jesse
was destined to be the Mother of
God.
The one who is the treasury of virginity,
the flowering Rod of Aaron,
the object of the
prophecies,
the child of Joachim and Anne, 
is born today and the world is renewed in her.
Through her birth, she floods the church with her splendor.
O holy Temple, Vessel of the
Godhead, Model of virgins and Strength of kings:
in you the wondrous union of the two natures
of Christ was realized.
We worship Him and glorify your most pure birth,
and we magnify you.
— from the Vespers for the Feast of the Nativity of our Most Holy Lady the Mother of God, Byzantine Book of Prayer.
The Vespers service, in the Byzantine churches, for this great feast is rich with biblical, theological, and mystical language about the mystery and joy of the conception and birth of the Theotokos. Archpriest Lawrence Cross, in the September 2012 issue of Theosis (see sample pages, PDF format), reflects on the history and meaning of this feast:
The feast of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary, one of the oldest of the Marian solemnities, was mentioned by the Church Fathers, such as St. Epiphanius and St. John Chrysostom, in the early fifth century. Like other Marian feasts, it began to be celebrated at local level without any major solemnity. As the feast began to spread throughout the Byzantine world in the sixth and seventh century, it was celebrated with greater solemnity. The solemnity of the feast spread to Rome in the seventh century, and in following centuries it spread throughout the whole Western Church. In the eighth century, at the time of St Andrew of Crete (+740), the feast of Mary’s nativity was already observed and celebrated in the same way as that of other major liturgical feasts of the Byzantine Church. The feast was established on September 8 because it was on that day that St. Helen, Emperor Constantine’s mother, dedicated the basilica she built in Jerusalem to the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary. ...
The following liturgical texts of the Feast of the Nativity of the Mother of God express the spiritual significance of this feast to Orthodox Christians:
"Today Anne the barren one gives birth to the maiden of God who had been chosen from all human generations to become the dwelling place of the Creator, Christ our God and King of all. In her He fulfilled his divine plan through which our human nature was renewed and by which we were to be transferred from corruption to eternal life" (Vespers, Tone 6).
What is this sound of feasting that we hear? Joachim and Ann mystically keep festival. ‘O Adam and Eve,’ they cry, ‘rejoice with us today: for if by your transgression ye closed the gate of Paradise to those of old, we have now been given a glorious fruit, Mary the Child of God, who opens its entrance to us all.’ (Great Vespers, Tone 2).
The Troparion for the feast is a beautiful work of theological poetry (or poetic theology):
Your birth, O Virgin Mother of God,
heralded joy to the Universe;
for from you rose the Sun of Justice,
Christ our God.
He took away the curse,
He gave the blessing,
and by trampling Death,
He gave us everlasting life.
The texts of the Byzantine liturgy for the feast are available in various formats on the Royal Doors Liturgical Texts site. I took the photo last night at the Vespers service at our parish, Nativity of the Mother of God Ukrainian Catholic Church, in Springfield, Oregon.
For more about Marian devotions in the Byzantine tradition, see:
September 7, 2012
A Moment of Weakness and the Paradox of God’s Grace
A Moment of Weakness and the Paradox of God’s Grace | Ilyas Khan | Catholic World Report
Targeted by extremists, a Catholic convert from Islam reflects on the constancy that is as necessary to the Christian life as bravery.
In 1980, a month or so after I had turned 18, I took up residence
at Netherhall House, an Opus Dei-run student hall in the leafy London suburb of
Hampstead.
I turned 50 in early August this year, and it is only recently
that I am able to pull off the feat of looking back across 32 years without a
sense of vertigo. The passage of time since I was 18 often seems simply a
continuation of the journey that started when I took my first steps up the
stone entrance of Netherhall and across the hushed threshold.
I converted from Islam to Christianity on the basis of an
encounter that dates back to my time at Netherhall. The seeds of Christianity
had actually been sown somewhat earlier when I was a young child, but as I grew
older the same tendency towards rebellion that was so prevalent in the 1970s
and which led to the creation of the punk movement in Britain manifested itself
in my teenage years with a full blown (and entirely frivolous) solipsist
intransigence. Religion, in any form, was low on my list of priorities, a
distant form of “noise” that tended, if anything, to irritate rather than
stimulate. Having been raised by Muslim parents, if I was anything at that
point, I was a Muslim. My application form to Netherhall (which required an
identification of religious affiliation) shows in its now grainy and sepia-toned
photograph, a long haired boy affecting the “Bob Dylan” look of melancholy
mixed with disinterest, and with the word “moslem” in the box “Religion.”
In accepting Christ, I first had to overcome the core objections
that all Muslims face when confronted with the language of the Holy Trinity and
Christ’s divinity. Not inconsequentially, I also created, and had to contend
with, a whole host of obstacles that were self-imposed and which allowed me to
continue the habit of patting myself on the back whenever I sounded clever in
the context of a debate. It’s easy, as all adolescent rebels will know, to
challenge from the sidelines when skepticism can be dressed up to look very
sexy.
The path that led me through and then out of these dense thickets
of mostly juvenile negativity was built around my first encounter, in
Netherhall’s library, with Hans Urs von Balthasar.
September 6, 2012
True Religion and the Law of God
“The law of God is his Word that guides man
along the path of his life. It causes him to go out of his egoism and conducts
him to the land of his true liberty and life.”
— Pope Benedict
XVI, Angelus, September 2, 2012.
During this past summer, the Holy Father has
limited himself to brief audiences and statements. By all accounts his health
has not been too good. Yet, even when he says only a few paragraphs, what he
says is worth reading. Sunday’s Angelus, which is traditionally quite short,
began with a reference to the Gospel of the Sunday. The law of God is a theme
found in Hebrew religion. In Christianity it finds its completion “in love.”
The law of God is His Word that guides us along the path of our lives. It leads
us out of the “slavery of our egoism.” It teaches us “true liberty.”
In the Bible, the law is not seen as a “weight”
or a limiting horizon but as the most precious “gift” of the Lord. It is the
testimony of His paternal love, of His will to be near His people so that they
might write together a great story of love. The Psalmist found the law of God
to be his “delight” and happiness (119). In the Old Testament, he who speaks in
the name of God transmits the law to the people. This is Moses. On the
threshold of the Promised Land, Moses tells the Israelites to listen to the law
and put it into practice when they enter into the land that the Lord would give
them.
Yet here is a “problem.” When the people
settled in the land and the law is deposited among them, they are tempted to
replace their joy and security in something that is not any longer the Word of
the Lord. They look to “material goods,” to “power,” to other "gods" which in
reality are “vain.” They are idols. It always seems strange and perplexing that
the Jews could repudiate their own laws so regularly and quickly. The law of
God did not exactly go away from them, but too often it no longer remained the
most important thing for them. The law became a kind of “covering” or outward
show. The Scribes and Pharisees were concerned with what they wore, with how
they were treated. Their lives followed other roads, “other rules,” the
egoistic interests of individuals and groups.
Thus, religion can miss its authentic sense which is to live
in the hiddenness of God to do His will. This is the truth of our being. If we
do this, we would live well in true liberty. We can be in danger of using
secondary things, which rather satisfy the human need to feel oneself in place
of God. Here is a “grave risk” to every religion. Jesus encountered it in His
time. It can be verified also in Christianity. Thus the words of Jesus in
today’s Gospel deal with the Scribes and Pharisees, how He chastises them for
missing the main issues. The people, we read in Isaiah, honor God with their
lips but are far from Him. Men follow their own law, not that of God.
This little comment of Benedict in an Angelus
indicates his awareness of the temptations of our time, as they were
temptations during the time of the Hebrews and in the time of Jesus. We make
religion something external, how it looks. We do not pay attention to what goes
on in our own souls. It is the function of a pope to remind us of these things.
Review of "The Consolation of Philosophy" (Ignatius Critical Edition)
From Homiletic & Pastoral Review:
The Consolation of Philosophy. By Boethius. Trans. and ed. by
Scott Goins and Barbara H. Wyman. Ignatius Critical Editions (San
Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2012), 278 pages. ISBN 978-1-58617-437-8
The book, “The Consolation of Philosophy,” is one of the greatest works
of literature, written in the 6th century by Boethius by a Roman
philosopher. It brings together the wisdom of Ancient Greece and Rome,
and the first five centuries of Christian thought. In words similar to
those later made familiar to us by Dante, Boethius desiderates:”If that
Love which rules the heavens might also rule your hearts!” (p. 62)
Scott Goins and Barbara H. Wyman, scholars of classics at McNeese
State University (Louisiana), offer us a very carefully prepared new
translation and critical edition for the series, “Ignatius Critical
Editions.” They have made a translation that uses prose, which is
accessible and clear, lending itself to easier understanding by the
general public. For the translation of the poetry, they have used
straightforward, free verse, which captures the poetry of the original
very well. Other editions have employed end rhyme, which often
necessitated the addition of words. The free verse in this translation,
unencumbered with (at times) forced end rhyme, is totally faithful to
the original, while retaining a nice poetic quality. This edition, with
useful notes found on each page, allows Boethius to be read and
understood by both experts and beginners alike.
Boethius wrote this great work while imprisoned by King Theodoric,
who treacherously repaid his loyal service with execution. The loss of
his position and comfort inspired Boethius to write about the nature of
happiness and fate. His figurative teacher, “Lady Philosophy,” teaches
him: “Don’t you see how narrow and confined is the glory that you work
to spread out and extend? ….. A man’s name and fame will be confined to
the boundaries of one nation….” (p. 57).
Lady Philosophy explains to Boethius what fate is, and how many
either learn from suffering, or are punished through it. She teaches him
to find happiness in what is good, and above all, in God, who is the
highest good. By participation in this goodness, each man is, therefore,
a god even though God is one (p. 92).
This idea recurs when she replies to Boethius’ objections about the
injustice of receiving punishment for a life of virtue: “Every virtuous
man receives his glory from his own virtue… and since the good is
blessedness, those who are blessed are rightly called gods.” Boethius
should understand “that every kind of fortune is completely good…Since
all fortune, either pleasant or bitter, is given to reward or test the
good or to punish or correct the bad, it is entirely good, since it is
either just or useful” (p. 141).
In the last chapter, Lady Philosophy explains to Boethius the most
difficult subject: the interplay between God’s knowledge and human
freedom. If God knows the future, how does man have freedom? She tells
him that God “discerns all things in his eternal present.” With one
glance, he “distinguishes both the things that will necessarily come
about, and those that will come about without necessity, just as when
you humans see at the same time a man walking on the earth, and the sun
rising”(pp. 169-170).
In their excellent footnotes, which include the translation of key
terms and indicate variations in the translation, the editors provide
the readers with very helpful summaries of each chapter, and with key
notions of Aristotelian, neo-Platonic and stoic thought, which were
well-known by Boethius. Both are very useful for the reader. In
addition, Ignatius’ critical edition offers the sources that Boethius
used from the ancient philosophers, as well as Homer, Virgil, Cicero,
Seneca, Horace, Ovid, Augustine, and others. Likewise, they indicate
passages from Aquinas, Chaucer, Jeun de Meun, Dante, and Shakespeare,
who clearly used Boethius as their source. The editors point to highly
probable biblical allusions in the text, and the many references made by
Aquinas to Boethius. Both types of annotations strengthen the belief
that Boethius was a Christian, writing a unique work for his time, one
without direct appeal to revelation.
The new edition includes a good historical introduction to Boethius,
and his work, by the translators, and an engaging series of essays by
other scholars (located at the end of the text).
Goins and Wyman have made an excellent contribution to the study of
this great Christian thinker, one which will introduce many students,
and other readers, to the wisdom of ancient and early Christian
thinkers.
Fr. Juan R. Vélez
(author of: “Passion for Truth,” “The Life of John Henry Newman.”)
San Francisco, California
Taking Evangelization Door-to-Door
Taking Evangelization Door-to-Door | William L. Patenaude | Catholic World Report
Catholics in the Diocese of Providence are doing what may have seemed unthinkable: knocking on doors and talking about their faith with total strangers.
Growing up in the 1970s, many in
the Church urged me to care for the poor, work for justice, and love God. But I
don’t recall being told to “go and make disciples.” For whatever reasons,
efforts by Catholics to personally share the fullness of the Gospel seemed
absent, even when other faiths were hitting the streets and knocking on doors.
But thanks to the encouragement of
His Excellency, the Most Reverend Thomas J. Tobin, bishop of Providence, and
the work of dedicated members of the Legion of Mary, since 2010 six parishes within
the Diocese of Providence have held a “Day of Evangelization”—an event that
includes prayer, Eucharistic Adoration, and going door-to-door within parish
boundaries. In total, these days have resulted in the visitation of about 7,500
homes and conversations with some 3,500 people, with about 370 asking for
follow-up, such as requests for visiting the homebound, rides to Mass,
information on annulments, or how to have their children baptized.
“These door-to-door events grew in
a special way out of our Year of Evangelization,” said Bishop Tobin, referring
to an initiative in 2009 and 2010 in which he encouraged parishes to reach out
to their neighbors. “One important response was that parishes began going
door-to-door, which makes evangelization a personal event. You can have all
sorts of billboards, bumper stickers, and pamphlets to help evangelize, but as
helpful as all that can be, evangelization must be a personal encounter.”
Father Edward J. Wilson, Jr.,
pastor of Saints Rose and Clement Parish in Warwick, Rhode Island, echoed the
bishop’s words. In June, his parish held a Day of Evangelization using the
expertise and assistance of the Legion of Mary and a small army of parish
volunteers and others from across New England and as far away as Illinois. To
date, this was the largest such event in the diocese, with some 130 people
knocking on doors, dozens in prayer before the Blessed Sacrament (or at home),
and many more helping with daycare, the kitchen, or registration tables.
September 5, 2012
Enrique Aguilar's "Employee Pick of the Week"
40% off Enrique Aguilar's Pick of the Week*
The book I recommend is
Literary Converts
.At the time I read this book I was having doubts about my faith. I had
been a cradle Catholic with good formation but for years I was
“distracted”, I was headed nowhere, except in the direction of losing
what little faith I had left.
A good friend recommended Literary Converts ,
saying it would change my life. Coincidentally my mother had
anticipated things, and by the next Christmas, I had a wrapped copy
waiting for me under the Christmas tree.
This wonderful book explores the spiritual lives of some of the greatest
writers in English literature: C.S.Lewis, J.R.R.Tolkien, and Oscar
Wilde to name a few. It is a clear testimony of the inner struggles of
the faith, and a behind the scenes look at the psychology of a convert.
Furthermore, it is a lesson to all cradle Catholics who sometimes don’t
realize the treasures they have. In Literary Converts I was
able to see a part of myself and it helped deepen my faith. I recommend
this book to anyone who is struggling with their faith. Literary Converts is also available as an e-book.
EnriqueAguilar is the video/sound man at Ignatius Press. After studying
business and economics in El Salvador he left the tropics to encounter
not so warm weather in San Francisco, and has been working at Ignatius
Press for 2 years. He is in charge of creating book trailers, banner ads
and other video related projects. Some of the book trailers have his
original music compositions.
*Employee
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short bio of the selecting employee will also be included, giving
customers a chance to learn a bit more about the people who are Ignatius
Press.
What is a Church for our times?
by Fr. James V. Schall, S.J. | Catholic World Report
Cardinal Carlo Maria Martini, former archbishop of Milan, died this past week, God rest his soul, and an Italian newspaper published a final interview in which Martini said the Church is "200 years out of date" One can speculate what he meant by that—probably some sort of accommodation to “modern” life. The Church, I suspect, was “out-of-date” the day it was founded, if "out-of-date" refers to something that is not just like everything else about us. The early Church found certain things in the Roman and Greek worlds it could accept and others it could not.
The Church has long taught that no new revelation can be expected after the death of the last Apostle. This is a sober thought in a world that longs for something “new” but refuses to look at the “newness” of the “good news.”
Basically, we were given everything we needed to know—or, better, that God wanted us to know—from the Church’s beginning. The task of the Church was primarily to keep in existence, essentially unchanged, the content of what was given over to her for safe-keeping. Logically, this understanding would make the Church a couple of thousand years out-of-date. The Church exists to tell us of our personal supernatural destiny and how it is to be achieved, in Christ, in whatever society or culture that it encounters. The Church is a “body,” the Body of Christ. Its members belong to one another because they achieve the same end by the proper means, if they will.
Catholics do have a notion of the “development” of
doctrine, which means the Church does not change and that the ways it
expresses itself might become clearer, provided nothing substantial about
what has been handed on is undermined or discarded. The Church, though including finite human persons, does not exist as the result of a human
initiative and planning.
Ending the USCCB’s Path to Progressive Politics?
Ending the USCCB’s Path to Progressive Politics? | Anne Hendershott | Catholic World Report
John Carr’s tenure at the USCCB ended on a note quite different from that of several former colleagues.
After 25 years of
faithful service, John Carr, executive director of the United States Conference
of Catholic Bishops’ Department of Justice, Peace, and Human Development, retired
last month. In a personal note circulated among his colleagues—which was later
posted online—Carr wrote that he was “leaving the USCCB, not to end my service to
the Church, but to serve in new ways—to help form, convene, and encourage
Catholic lay men and women to take up their unique task of bringing Catholic
social and moral teaching to community and political life.”
Throughout the last year of his tenure at the USCCB, Carr was under siege from the secular left because he has supported
the bishops in their lawsuit against the HHS mandate to provide contraceptive
care—including abortifacients and sterilization services—to employees of
Catholic institutions. Carr has responded to these attacks courageously.
This fall, Carr will
begin a fellowship on faith in public life at Harvard University’s Kennedy
School of Government—a position that will give him some time to decide where he
will bring his passion for social justice to “form, convene, and encourage” the
Catholic laity. But the choice of the Kennedy School reveals that Carr may
already have chosen to continue the path to progressive politics chosen by so
many of his predecessors when they left the USCCB. In fact, the USCCB has
provided a kind of training ground for many progressive Catholics currently
working to help elect liberal-leaning candidates for office—including
candidates who support policies that will expand abortion availability and
same-sex marriage.
Sara Morello, executive
vice president of Catholics for Choice, worked for the USCCB prior to her current
position at the pro-abortion organization founded by self-described “former
nun” Frances Kissling. According to the Catholics for Choice website, Morello—who
holds a licentiate in canon law from the Catholic University of America in
Washington, DC and a bachelor’s degree in theology from Creighton University—“brings
her expertise in canon law, theology, church structure and governance to inform
CFC work as well as that of its partners and colleagues.” In other words,
Morello is using her graduate degree from Catholic University and her
experience at the USCCB to provide canon law cover for Catholics who wish to
support abortion with a clear conscience.
Throughout her long
tenure at Catholics for Choice, Morello developed many of the organization’s
core publications.
Shepherding the Irascible Sheep: Anger, Fear, and Fortitude
Shepherding the Irascible Sheep: Anger, Fear, and Fortitude | Brother James Dominic Rooney | Homiletic & Pastoral Review
By dealing with our anger and fear in a healthy way, we develop the virtue of fortitude (a key component of patience). Focusing on the character of fortitude provides guidelines to dealing with clients that encourages proper use of fear and anger without denying their existence or validity.
Abstract: Confronting anger in counselees often presents a barrier to pastoral counseling. But the insights of Sts. Augustine and Thomas Aquinas, combined with those offered in contemporary psychology, open a path for seeing our emotions as a significant aspect of our bodily nature. By dealing with our anger and fear in a healthy way, we develop the virtue of fortitude and a key component of fortitude—patience. Focusing on the character of fortitude in pastoral application can provide guidelines to dealing with clients in a way that encourages proper use of fear and anger without denying their existence or validity.
One of the most interesting remarks made by pastoral ministers in a class on pastoral counseling was that many of the ministers found it hard to deal with those they counseled who expressed anger—I myself was among them in that sentiment. While the personal history and culture of the minister is one aspect of the problem, I wondered what possible support could be provided for pastoral ministers counseling the angry, or those with anger issues? Further, what defines appropriate or healthy anger? Connected with this is the question of fear. Anger and fear might be seen as two sides of the same coin—reactions to stimuli, or passions, that flee or confront the cause of that stimulus. Traditionally, these two passions (anger and fear) had been classified as “irascible” passions, both of which were moderated and turned toward their proper end by the virtue of fortitude (courage). Advances in psychology have made significant contributions to theories of the human psyche and uncovered new ground for understanding these passions; hence, they rely on the theory of the virtue of fortitude—and one of its key components, patience—for answers. Turning to contemporary theories in psychology, I will synthesize contemporary findings with the traditional data of moral theology to create a contextual response for pastoral ministers to the issue of anger and fear in those for whom they minister, based in a reflection on fortitude and patience.
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