Francis on Intercommunion

The Indefatigable Jimmy Akin strkes again
http://www.catholic.com/blog/jimmy-akin/pope-francis-on-intercommunion-with-lutherans

It's hard to know what to make of this. I know from sad personal experience that when blindsided with a question you can easily end up using many words to say nothing. But if this question was pre-selected as is implied, well then...

I'm also skeptical of the reporting on this because apparently the Pope rambled on for several minutes without insulting anyone.  That doesn't seem normal.  Perhaps his overly effusive praise of Kasper was intended as an insult (flattering someone for the particular trait they lack in order to point it out).  It's all a mystery.

A meditation on God's Providence

Matthew 6:25-26

25 “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat [or drink], or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing? 26 Look at the birds in the sky; they do not sow or reap, they gather nothing into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are not you more important than they?

To tell the truth, this is one of the more difficult passages in the Gospels.   Not "difficult" as in "I don't want to hear it" but "difficult" as in "that makes no sense."  My life has been a constant effort.  I would venture to guess that there are exactly zero things that I'm naturally good at.  I feel like God's admonition to Adam in Genesis 3:19 was given to me: "By the sweat of your brow you shall eat bread, Until you return to the ground, from which you were taken."  In truth every modicum of success I've ever had has been the result of stubborn effort and on the day that my effort ceases, then I'll likely cease as well.  Not even "success": even the failures have been the result of hard stubborn work.

And I'm hardly alone.  Read the story of Mother Angelica, Saint Teresa, Saint John of the Cross or for that matter, Saints Peter and Paul.  Most of the really great human stories that we hear are about people struggling against disability, disease, misfortune and temptation.  How can the Gospel passage above apply to any of us?

But something about that occurred to me.  One of my neighbors has an apple tree which extends over his back yard into the alley. Right now, it's dropping apples at a steady rate as the cold weather finally kicks in.  The squirrels run up and eat the apples and haul what they can back to their burrows (or wherever squirrels go).  My neighbor probably isn't too happy if the squirrels eat the apples right out of his tree, but anything that falls in the alley is fair game. God is providing for them.

But squirrels have a hard life.  I see them run back and forth across my back fence and they are harassed constantly.  Birds swoop down and peck at them if they get too close.   They have to fight other squirrels for what the birds don't steal.  Any dogs in the backyard will give chase if they wander into view.  Yet they survive and God gives them what they need to survive.  He doesn't take away the struggle, He makes the struggle pay off.

When Jesus says "Look at the birds in the sky... your heavenly Father feeds them."  He does, but birds eat voraciously to support the constant effort that is is there life.  Jesus says a verse later that the wildflowers are clothed more elegantly than even Solomon.  Indeed!  But plants dig into the hard soil and even crack rocks with their roots to stay alive.

The passage above doesn't promise and easy life.  It promises that effort will pay off.  On the other hand, it doesn't guarantee misery.  This is not the Winston Churchill school of motivation:  “I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears, and sweat.”  We give glory to God by fulfilling the role that God has for us.  And that brings a certain peace and joy, and perhaps even comfort.  But it never excuses us from the work at hand.

RCIA Talk for Sunday 11/22

Breaking open the Word (aka, Dismissal)

34th Sunday of Ordinary Time / The Feast of Christ the King

November 22, 2015

Ben Fischer

The opening reading is from the Book of Daniel. The Book of Daniel is the last of the Major Prophets in the Old Testament, and is notable for it’s rich and vivid imagery.  The visions are similar to those in the Book of Revelation.  The book is also notable for it’s clear Messianic prophecies. Two prophecies are important for today’s discussion: the reference to the Son of Man in today’s reading and a timeline that the Jews believed predicted when the Messiah was to come.  And indeed, that timeline pointed to the time of Jesus, so when He walked on Earth, Messianic expectations were very high.

In today’s reading we read a portion of a vision that Daniel had.  Just before today’s first reading, Daniel has a vision of four beast emerging from the waters, each more terrible than the one before.  The first one was like a lion with eagle’s wings. The second one was like a bear. The third like a leopard with four wings and four heads.  The fourth beast was unlike the others, “terrible and dreadful and exceedingly strong”. It had 10 horns on it’s head and as Daniel looked a new horn appeared and three others fell before it and the new horn had eyes like a man’s and a mouth which spoke boastfully.  Then a throne was erected and the Ancient of Days took his place on the throne. His clothing was white as snow and his hair was white like wool. His throne was blazing with fire and countless thousands of people attended to him.  Before the Ancient of Days or “Ancient One”, the fourth beast was destroyed.

Then we come to today’s reading. One, like the Son of Man, came and stood before the Ancient One and received glory and dominion over all.

This phrase “Son of Man” is the most common expression that Jesus used to refer to Himself.  It is a strange circumlocution. In essence, a “son of man” is simply a man – a mortal, a mere human.  It appears several places in the Old Testament and merely means that.   In the case of this vision of Daniel, there seems to be additional context.  In the beginning of the vision, there are a number of fantastic and unimaginable beings.  The four beasts look like an amalgam of living animals and the Ancient One is only vaguely described.  Is He human? Is He yet in some other form?  But the one “like a Son of Man” stands before them all and and was found worthy and received dominion.  This is no mere mortal.  This is the essence of humanity: humanity as it was before the Fall; made in the image and likeness of God and who had been given dominion over all the Earth.  

The Jews understood the “Ancient One” or “Ancient of Days” to refer to God seated on His throne.  The book of Daniel goes on to interpret the beasts and the horns as referring to the pagan kings which tormented Israel.  The “Son of Man” was widely accepted by the Jews as referring to the Messiah who was chosen by God to lead His people to victory.  There was no expectation that the Messiah would be divine.  That wouldn’t come until Jesus revealed it.  The Messiah was simply an exemplar, a great leader and a great man.  Very much like the vision in Daniel: someone who has been found worthy by God and who can stand before the forces arrayed against him and emerge victorious.

For Jesus to take that title for Himself seems contradictory. After all, He is the Son of God!  And calling Himself “Son of Man” seems to be only partially correct since Joseph was His legal, but not biological father. The Christian interpretation is that Daniel saw one like the Son of Man.  Not just a son of man.  For Jesus was truly man, but also truly God.

It is believed that by using this title, Jesus was doing several things.  He was identifying Himself totally with humanity; “like us in all things but sin”.  We was also identifying Himself with this prophecy in Daniel.  When the Jews heard Him use this phrase, they would have understood that Jesus was referring to Himself as the Messiah and as perfected humanity.  He is victorious over the enemy and His words bring Eternal Life and He is the model that we need to live up to.  

In the Gospel reading, this Messianic fervor brought Jesus to the ruler of the day.  The Jewish authorities, fearful of what the Romans might do if Jesus’ followers got out of hand, turned Him into the local authorities with the charge of insurrection.  Pope Benedict XVI wrote about this in his book Jesus of Nazareth, volume II.

The image of Pilate in the Gospels presents the Roman Prefect quite realistically as a man who could be brutal when he judged this to be in the interests of public order. Yet he also knew that Rome owed its world dominance not least to its tolerance of foreign divinities and to the capacity of Roman law to build peace. This is how he comes across to us during Jesus’ trial.

The charge that Jesus claimed to be king of the Jews was a serious one. Rome had no difficulty in recognizing regional kings like Herod, but they had to be legitimated by Rome and they had to receive from Rome the definition and limitation of their sovereignty. A king without such legitimation was a rebel who threatened the Pax Romana and therefore had to be put to death.

Pilate knew, however, that no rebel uprising had been instigated by Jesus. Everything he had heard must have made Jesus seem to him like a religious fanatic, who may have offended against some Jewish legal and religious rulings, but that was of no concern to him. The Jews themselves would have to judge that. From the point of view of the Roman juridical and political order, which fell under his competence, there was nothing serious to hold against Jesus.

At this point we must pass from considerations about the person of Pilate to the trial itself. In John 18:34-35 it is clearly stated that, on the basis of the information in his possession, Pilate had nothing that would incriminate Jesus. Nothing had come to the knowledge of the Roman authority that could in any way have posed a risk to law and order. The charge came from Jesus’ own people, from the Temple authority. It must have astonished Pilate that Jesus’ own people presented themselves to him as defenders of Rome, when the information at his disposal did not suggest the need for any action on his part.

Yet during the interrogation we suddenly arrive at a dramatic moment: Jesus’ confession. To Pilate’s question: “So you are a king?” he answers: “You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I have come into the world, to bear witness to the truth. Every one who is of the truth hears my voice” (Jn 18:37). Previously Jesus had said: “My kingship is not of this world; if my kingship were of this world, my servants would fight, that I might not be handed over to the Jews; but my kingship is not from the world” (18:36).

This “confession” of Jesus places Pilate in an extraordinary situation: the accused claims kingship and a kingdom. Yet he underlines the complete otherness of his kingship, and he even makes the particular point that must have been decisive for the Roman judge: No one is fighting for this kingship. If power, indeed military power, is characteristic of kingship and kingdoms, there is no sign of it in Jesus’ case. And neither is there any threat to Roman order. This kingdom is powerless. It has no legions.

With these words Jesus created a thoroughly new concept of kingship and kingdom, and he held it up to Pilate, the representative of classical worldly power. What is Pilate to make of it, and what are we to make of it, this concept of kingdom and kingship? Is it unreal, is it sheer fantasy that can be safely ignored? Or does it somehow affect us?

In addition to the clear delimitation of his concept of kingdom (no fighting, earthly powerlessness), Jesus had introduced a positive idea, in order to explain the nature and particular character of the power of this kingship: namely, truth. Pilate brought another idea into play as the dialogue proceeded, one that came from his own world and was normally connected with “kingdom”: namely, power—authority. Dominion demands power; it even defines it. Jesus, however, defines as the essence of his kingship witness to the truth. Is truth a political category? Or has Jesus’ “kingdom” nothing to do with politics? To which order does it belong? If Jesus bases his concept of kingship and kingdom on truth as the fundamental category, then it is entirely understandable that the pragmatic Pilate asks him: “What is truth?” (18:38).

It is the question that is also asked by modern political theory: Can politics accept truth as a structural category? Or must truth, as something unattainable, be relegated to the subjective sphere, its place taken by an attempt to build peace and justice using whatever instruments are available to power? By relying on truth, does not politics, in view of the impossibility of attaining consensus on truth, make itself a tool of particular traditions that in reality are merely forms of holding on to power?

And yet, on the other hand, what happens when truth counts for nothing? What kind of justice is then possible? Must there not be common criteria that guarantee real justice for all—criteria that are independent of the arbitrariness of changing opinions and powerful lobbies? Is it not true that the great dictatorships were fed by the power of the ideological lie and that only truth was capable of bringing freedom?

Benedict XVI, Pope (2011-03-10). Jesus of Nazareth Part Two, Holy Week: From the Entrance Into Jerusalem To The Resurrection (pp. 188-191). Ignatius Press. Kindle Edition.

Today is the feast of Christ the King.  The feast day was originally established by Pius XI in 1925.  This was in response to the rise of Fascism and Socialism after the disastrous First World War. Both political systems are inherently materialistic and atheistic.  By establishing this Feast Day, Pope Pius XI hoped that

1. The Church would remain free from state interference,
2. That secular leaders would remember their duty to honor and respect Christ
3. That the faithful would be reminded that Christ must reign in our hearts, minds, wills and bodies.

http://w2.vatican.va/content/pius-xi/en/encyclicals/documents/hf_p-xi_enc_11121925_quas-primas.html

(or just Google “Quas Primas”)

Those are still relevant today.  The specific political systems that were ascendant in 1925 have been replaced, but their replacements are no less materialistic or secular in outlook. And the four beasts of Daniel’s vision continue to attack our faith and our culture.

May the Son of Man conquer our enemies and rule in our hearts and minds!

Closing Prayer

Almighty, ever-living God,

 it is your will to unite the entire universe under your beloved Son,

 Jesus Christ, the King of heaven and earth.

Grant freedom to the whole of creation,

 and let it praise and serve your majesty for ever.

Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son,

 who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,

 one God, for ever and ever.

Amen.

The Lord bless us, and keep us from all evil, and bring us to everlasting life.

Huzzah! Maureen Mullarky is back online

http://studiomatters.com/

From her "I'm back" post
http://studiomatters.com/note-to-readers

This brings me to Ross Douthat’s go-round with the roster of Jesuits and academics who pulled their hems back from his published dismay over the agenda of our bien pensant pope. Without a doubt, I am in Douthat’s corner. Full square. I have only one demurral from his rousing public apologia. 

In his “Letter to the Catholic Academy” he states: “A columnist has two tasks: To explain and to provoke.” To explain, yes. But to provoke? That is the role of pamphleteers, not journalists. It implies a willed effort to inflame, agitate. Hacer un lío—rock the boat. That is Francis’ preferred modus operandi. It is not mine, and never was. 

No serious journalist—and Douthat is unquestionably serious—needs to make an effort to provoke. Provocation comes unbidden when writers try to tell the truth as they understand it. The truth shall make you free, John told us. But not everyone wants the truth for fear of the very freedom it brings.

"...pulled their hems back from his published dismay..."  Classic!

The Death of Arius

Those that would twist scripture and the clear teachings of the magisterium to their advantage should consider the fate of the most famous heretic in the history of the Church.

This is the account, per Athanasius

Arius, on account of his politically-powerful friends, had been invited to appear before the emperor Constantine. When he arrived, the emperor asked him whether or not he held to the orthodox beliefs of the universal church. Arius declared with an oath that he did, and gave an account of his beliefs in writing. But, in reality, he was twisting the Scriptures and not being honest about the points of doctrine for which he had been excommunicated.

Nonetheless, when Arius swore that he did not hold the heretical views for which he had been excommunicated, Constantine dismissed him, saying, “If your faith is orthodox, you have done well to swear; but if your beliefs are heretical, and you have sworn falsely, may God judge you according to your oath.”

When Arius left the emperor, his friends wanted to immediately restore him to the church. But the bishop of Constantinople (a man named Alexander), resisted them, explaining that the inventor of such heresies should not be allowed to partake in communion. But Arius’s friends threatened the bishop, saying, “In the same way that we brought him to the emperor, against your wishes, so tomorrow — though it be contrary to your wishes — Arius will have communion with us in this church.” They said this on a Saturday.

When Alexander heard this, he was greatly distressed. He went into the church and stretched out his hands before God, and wept. Falling on his face, he prayed, “If Arius is allowed to take communion tomorrow, let me Your servant depart, and do not destroy that which is holy with that which is unholy. But if You will spare Your church (and I know that You will spare it), take note of the words of Arius’s friends, and do not give Your inheritance to destruction and reproach. Please remove Arius from this world, lest he should enter the church and bring his heresy with him, and error would be treated as if it were truth.” After the bishop finished praying, he retired to his room deeply concerned.

Then an incredible and extraordinary thing happened. While Arius’s friends made threats, the bishop prayed. But Arius, who himself was making wild claims, unexpectedly became very ill. Urged by the necessities of nature he withdrew, and suddenly, in the language of Scripture, “falling headlong, he burst open in the middle,” and immediately died where he lay. In an instant, he was deprived not only of communion, but of his very life.

That was the end of Arius.

http://thecripplegate.com/death-of-historys-worst-heretic/

The highlighted passage above is expanded upon a bit by Scholasticus

It was then Saturday, and Arius was expecting to assemble with the church on the day following: but divine retribution overtook his daring criminalities. For going out of the imperial palace, attended by a crowd of Eusebian partisans like guards, he paraded proudly through the midst of the city, attracting the notice of all the people.

http://taylormarshall.com/2012/10/how-arius-heretic-died-in-bathroom.html

The rest is just nasty.

The moral of the story is that holding heretical beliefs is dangerous.  Twisting the words of scripture to confirm your heretical beliefs is dangerous, and preening at your cleverness and ingenuity in doing so is even worse.

Interpreting Francis, Again

The internet still is on fire about Francis' performance in the recent Synod.  A good example is Damian Thompson's latest in The Spectator.

One source of all the angst is Francis' closing speech at the Synod.  I have two excerpts.  The first one is

It was also about laying closed hearts, which bare the closed hearts which frequently hide even behind the Church’s teachings or good intentions, in order to sit in the chair of Moses and judge, sometimes with superiority and superficiality, difficult cases and wounded families.

 Most people have read this has an attack against the conservative wing that wouldn't budge on the Kasper proposal.  They would be the ones "hiding behind even the Church's teaching" but what about the next few words "or good intentions"?

I tell my students in RCIA that the magisterium must be read in continuity with what came before.  There's open debate about whether Francis, in fact, intends to be read in that way. Most people read him as a innovator and he doesn't seem to mind that. However, perhaps we can read the man with the Hermeneutic of Franciscan Continuity: that even if he's not consistent with his predecessors, he's at least consistent with himself.  That paragraph above reminds me quite a bit of his closing speed of Synod 2014.

One, a temptation to hostile inflexibility, that is, wanting to close oneself within the written word, (the letter) and not allowing oneself to be surprised by God, by the God of surprises, (the spirit); within the law, within the certitude of what we know and not of what we still need to learn and to achieve. From the time of Christ, it is the temptation of the zealous, of the scrupulous, of the solicitous and of the so-called – today – “traditionalists” and also of the intellectuals. 

- The temptation to a destructive tendency to goodness [it. buonismo], that in the name of a deceptive mercy binds the wounds without first curing them and treating them; that treats the symptoms and not the causes and the roots. It is the temptation of the “do-gooders,” of the fearful, and also of the so-called “progressives and liberals.

- The temptation to transform stones into bread to break the long, heavy, and painful fast (cf. Lk 4:1-4); and also to transform the bread into a stone and cast it against the sinners, the weak, and the sick (cf Jn 8:7), that is, to transform it into unbearable burdens (Lk 11:46). 

- The temptation to come down off the Cross, to please the people, and not stay there, in order to fulfil the will of the Father; to bow down to a worldly spirit instead of purifying it and bending it to the Spirit of God. 

- The temptation to neglect the “depositum fidei” [the deposit of faith], not thinking of themselves as guardians but as owners or masters [of it]; or, on the other hand, the temptation to neglect reality, making use of meticulous language and a language of smoothing to say so many things and to say nothing! They call them “byzantinisms,” I think, these things…

Putting these two together, it seems that in the closing speech of Synod 2015, he was, once again, castigating everyone, not just conservatives.  The conservatives are indeed "hiding behind the Church's teaching" but progressives are also hiding behind "good intentions".

The next slap came later in the same speech. I've highlighted the controversial line.

The Synod experience also made us better realize that the true defenders of doctrine are not those who uphold its letter, but its spirit; not ideas but people; not formulae but the gratuitousness of God’s love and forgiveness. This is in no way to detract from the importance of formulae, laws and divine commandments, but rather to exalt the greatness of the true God, who does not treat us according to our merits or even according to our works but solely according to the boundless generosity of his Mercy (cf. Rom 3:21-30; Ps 129; Lk 11:37-54). It does have to do with overcoming the recurring temptations of the elder brother (cf. Lk 15:25-32) and the jealous labourers (cf. Mt 20:1-16). Indeed, it means upholding all the more the laws and commandments which were made for man and not vice versa (cf. Mk 2:27). 

Again, Francis embraces squishy non-dogmatic feel-goodism.  However, the very next line says "This is in no way to detract from the importance of formulae, laws and divine commandments".  Colloquially, if you were listening to someone say these two sentences back to back, you'd hear the author say "... true defenders are not those who ONLY uphold it's letter, but ALSO it's spirit".  I think it's a reasonable interpretation.

The most recent outrage came from ANOTHER interview in which he apparently said dodgy things. Damian Thompson's article linked above has a decent rundown of that.   I got nothing.   I am as confused as the rest of the world.

I've mentioned before that Francis is the Don Rickles of Popes.  I don't know why he was so mad at the synod fathers in 2014 and 2015.  Perhaps he was hoping they, as a group, would come up with something that he could use.  Some new specific avenue of mercy.  I don't know if he actually wanted the Kasper proposal to be approved, but perhaps he thought that some compromise would be found.  (I don't know what that could be).  When none was forthcoming, he unleashed his acid tongue at the rigid doctrinaires and do-gooders who were each too stubborn to budge.

We may never know.  

Like the rest of the conservatives, I'm afraid of what Francis will come up with when he issues his post synodal exhortation.  But until then, I think some of the histrionics about the synod are overblown and I hope emotions die down soon.

Erasmus Lectures

Or should that be Erasmi?  Doubtless, many have been following the kerfuffle involving Ross Douthat.  He made some comments that got the liberals in a snit, then appeared on First Things' Erasmus Lecture.

http://www.firstthings.com/media/the-crisis-of-conservative-catholicism

Interestingly, last year Archbishop Chaput gave the Erasmus lecture and during the Q&A portion said some things that got the liberals' noses out of joint.

http://www.firstthings.com/events/2014-erasmus-lecture

The year before Rabbi Jonathan Sacks gave the Erasmus lecture and, as far as I know, no liberal's feelings were hurt.

http://www.firstthings.com/media/on-creative-minorities-featuring-rabbi-jonathan-sacks

For the record, I thought Rabbi Sacks' talk was the most compelling.

However, I am mostly interested in the tone of the last three lectures.  Rabbi Sacks talked about creative minorities. He specifically referenced the role that Jews played as a persecuted minority.  Archbishop Chaput spoke about the decline of Christian culture.  Ross Douthat spoke of the resiliance of dissenting voices within the Catholic community, even after over 30 years of conservative papacies.  None of these talks are very triumphalistic.  All assume that the orthodox or conservative position (which is the position First Things caters to) is a hunted minority and none assume that things will get better soon.

Of course, some of this is grandstanding.  Everyone fancies themselves a persecuted minority.  If you go to the comments section of a typical National Catholic Reporter story, the feverish rantings would imply that THEY are the oppressed masses.  And then you turn on the Erasmus lecture and it turns out WE are the oppressed resistance fighters.  And you get the same nonsense listening to political stump speeches (even Barack Obama is persecuted by powerful forces in Washington).  I don't know what a psychologist would call that, but I call it pandering to the base.  I also don't understand why people want to hear that they are being bullied around, but I know that it's effective.

But beyond the grandstanding, I think there's an important point, and I think that Mr Douthat put his finger on it. To hear the dominant narrative in the late 1990's, you'd think that we'd be living in a conservative paradise by now.  Mahoney and Trautman and Hubbard would be gone and the LCWR would be in it's collective dotage and the Church would be run by vibrant young bishops and habited smiling nuns.

And how'd that work out?  Of course, things have gotten a little better, but I think that after a couple of years with Francis, it's obvious that we didn't really ever have a crop of fiercely orthodox Bishops turning out fiercely orthodox priests.  We had a bunch of Bishops and seminarians we went along with however the winds were blowing.  When Rome was tilting in an orthodox direction, they got out the man-lace and thuribles and chanted with the best of them.  Now that Rome is tilting the other way, they are rummaging around for colored sweaters and telling people "just call me Bob!"

Douthat is absolutely correct that conservatives need to do a better job explaining their positions.  We cannot rely on Rome to settle debates for us.  We've gotten lazy (or maybe always were lazy) and that needs to change now.  In that regard we are well served by organizations like The Institute of Catholic Culture and First Things and Crisis Magazine (though Crisis is more of a pop-journal that also panders to it's base than a reasoned thinker's journal).

If Conservatives reflexively appeal to Rome to settle an argument, then the recent arguments over Douthat's column and -- when you get right down to it -- his existence demonstrate that liberals will reflexively appeal to the academy to settle an argument.  The point is that neither side cares about that appeal. The last thing a conservative will listen to is a tenured Jesuit, unless he agrees with him of course. And the last thing a liberal will listen to is the Pope, unless he agrees with him.  So these arguments must be understood to be what they are: they are intended to buck up the faithful, and not to convert the heathen.

Arguments must be based on something else: reason, experience, common shared values.  Judicious use of power will also have to be applied as well, but as is obvious conservatives have no power outside a few Chancery offices.  The universities, charities and even the Vatican is now firmly in liberal control and has been for some time.  But where power exists, it must be used subtly but judiciously.  The liberal way is to come in with a wrecking ball and destroy, because destruction is part of the liberal agenda. Rebuilding afterwards is a nice extra.  The conservative principle is more of a brick-by-brick approach because preservation is the goal.  But those bricks must be laid and they must be strong.

That's the way it is. We must pray for prudence and patience and strength and persistence.