Showing posts with label Advent. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Advent. Show all posts

Thursday, December 23, 2021

Even Little Saints See the Face of God: St. Servulus, Tiny Tim, and the Nativity

 ". . . but Jesus said, "Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them; for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven." And he laid his hands on them and went away." (Matthew 19:14-15)

Antique St. Servulus Prayer Card
One understandable drawback to the great liturgical rfeasts, such as the magnificent celebration of the Nativity of Our Lord at Christmas, is that lesser observances can be overlooked in all the excitement. For instance, today (December 23rd) is the memorial of St. Servulus: he is worth remembering for his own sake, but his life also gives us some very fruitful matter for meditation on the penultimate day of Advent, as we prepare for Christmas itself. Let’s take a look at the story of St. Servulus, from the 1866 edition of Butler’s Lives of the Saints (an account based on a homily by St. Gregory the Great): . . .

[click HERE to continue reading this post on Spes in Domino]

Sunday, December 19, 2021

From Small Beginnings: the 4th Sunday of Advent

Samuel anointing David, by François-Léon Benouville, 1842

 "The New Testament in the Old is concealed, the Old Testament in the New is revealed," as St. Augustine once said.*  We can see the truth of these words in the amazing event that Christmas commemorates.  Consider the opening verses of the first reading for the 4th Sunday of Advent, from the Book of the Prophet Micah:

Thus says the LORD:
     You, Bethlehem-Ephrathah
        too small to be among the clans of Judah,
    from you shall come forth for me
        one who is to be ruler in Israel;
    whose origin is from of old,
        from ancient times. (Micah 5:2)

We can see this Old Testament prophecy (as well as other prophecies from Isaiah, et. al.) come to fruition in the New Testament in a literal way in the birth of Jesus the Messiah in Bethlehem.  As always, however, there are deeper and deeper layers of truth underneath the surface.  Bethlehem is so small as to seem insignificant, but it will produce the Christ, just as it had once produced the great King David (the last two lines of the verse above indicate that the Messiah will be of the line of David).  
Speaking of great things coming in small packages, David himself was something of a surprise.  When the Prophet Samuel comes to Bethlehem to choose a new king for Israel from among Jesse's sons, David is not with his brothers; he has been left behind tending the sheep in the fields, since, as the youngest and the smallest, he seemed the least likely to wield the sceptre . . . 

* a remark that sounds as snappy in Latin as it does in English: Novum Testamentum in Vetere latet, Vetus Testamentum in Novo patet (Quaest. in Hept. 2,73: PL 34, 623; cf. DV)

[click HERE to continue reading this post on Spes in Domino]

Sunday, December 18, 2016

4th Sunday of Advent: A Still, Small Voice & The Lord of Creation


     Today, Sunday of the Fourth Week of Advent, we anticipate the Nativity of Our Lord in a few short days.  The (seemingly) unexpected appearance of the Lord of Creation in the form of a human infant in a stable reminds me of the following passage from the Old Testament, in which God comes to the prophet Elijah as he hides in a cave:

And he [the Lord] said, "Go forth, and stand upon the mount before the LORD." And behold, the LORD passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and broke in pieces the rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire; and after the fire a still small voice; And when Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave. And behold, there came a voice to him, and said, "What are you doing here, Elijah?"  (1 Kings: 11-13)

This, in its way, is as clear a foretaste of the Messiah as the "messianic" passages we read in Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel throughout advent.  We may have heard that, before the coming of Christ, people lived in fear of divine power.  Encountering God was something to be avoided: the point of praying and offering sacrifice, even sacrificing one’s own flesh and blood, was so that God (more often understood as “the gods”) would leave you alone.  
     We can detect echoes of this ancient attitude in the account of Abraham as he brings  his beloved son Isaac up Mount Moriah, prepared to offer him up (Genesis 22).  At the last moment God sends an angel to stay Abraham's hand, and provides a lamb for the sacrifice. The unexpected reversal in the story of Abraham and Isaac shows us the end of Christ’s earthly ministry; the story of Elijah in the cave shows us its surprising beginning. God doesn’t show himself in any of the terrifying guises one would expect (wind, earthquake, fire), but as a “still, small, voice” (in some translations a “whisper”).  In just the same way, the second person of the Trinity comes among us in the least threatening way imaginable: a helpless little baby, cradled in a feeding trough.  No wonder, when the Angel announces Jesus’ birth to the shepherds, he first tells them not to be afraid; and then he says:

For behold, I bring you good news of a great joy which will come to all the people: for to you is born this day in the city of Davis a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.  And this will be a sign for you: you will find a babe wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger. (Luke 2:10-12).

Good News , indeed.  It is, in fact, a Great Joy, and not at all a bad thing when God is in our midst, for “God is Love”(1 John 4:8); and the Infinite Creator of the Universe makes himself finite, small and vulnerable . . . for us.


For more Catholic Commentary from the past week, please see the following from the blog Nisi Dominus:


God's Truth is better than anything we can imagine: “Awaiting The Arrival of the God Who is Man



The Mass and what makes the Church ‘Catholic’ - “A Tale of Two Sundays: God’s Love is Universal



Our worth comes from God: “What We Have vs. What We Are


Christmas is coming . . . but not quite yet: “The Reasons for the Season of Advent

Wednesday, December 23, 2015

A Still Small Voice & The Lord Of Creation

(This Worth Revisiting Post was originally part of the Sunday Snippets post from the Fourth Sunday in Advent, December 21st, 2014. To enjoy the work of other faithful Catholic bloggers see Worth Revisiting Wednesday, hosted by Elizabeth Reardon at theologyisaverb.com and Allison Gingras at reconciledtoyou.com.)

     Today, Wednesday of the Fourth Week of Advent, we anticipate the Nativity of Our Lord in a few short days.  The (seemingly) unexpected appearance of the Lord of Creation in the form of a human infant in a stable reminds me of the following passage from the Old Testament, in which God comes to the prophet Elijah as he hides in a cave:

And he [the Lord] said, "Go forth, and stand upon the mount before the LORD." And behold, the LORD passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and broke in pieces the rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire; and after the fire a still small voice; And when Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave. And behold, there came a voice to him, and said, "What are you doing here, Elijah?"  (1 Kings: 11-13)

This, in its way, is as clear a foretaste of the Messiah as the "messianic" passages we read in Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel throughout advent.  Most of us have probably heard that, before the coming of Christ, people lived in fear of divine power.  Encountering God was something to be avoided: the point of praying and offering sacrifice, even sacrificing one’s own flesh and blood, was so that God (more often understood as “the gods”) would leave you alone.  We can detect echoes of this ancient attitude in the account of Abraham as he brought his beloved son Isaac up Mount Moriah, prepared to offer him up (Genesis 22).  The story of Abraham and Isaac, in which God reverses expectations and provides the lamb in place of Isaac, shows us the end of Christ’s earthly ministry; the story of Elijah in the cave shows us its surprising beginning. God doesn’t show himself in any of the terrifying guises one would expect (wind, earthquake, fire), but as a “still, small, voice” (in some translations a “whisper”).  In just the same way, the second person of the Trinity comes among us in the least threatening way imaginable: a helpless little baby, cradled in a feeding trough.  No wonder, when the Angel announces Jesus’ birth to the shepherds, he first tells them not to be afraid; and then he says:

For behold, I bring you good news of a great joy which will come to all the people: for to you is born this day in the city of Davis a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.  And this will be a sign for you: you will find a babe wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger. (Luke 2:10-12).

Good News , indeed.  It is, in fact, a Great Joy, and not at all a bad thing when God is in our midst, for “God is Love”(1 John 4:8); and the Infinite Creator of the Universe makes himself finite, small and vulnerable . . . for us.
     


As we wait in joyful hope for the coming of Our Savior at Christmas, at the End of Time, and to each one of us in our own lives, here’s a beautiful song, "Mary Did You Know?" performed by the lovely HayleyWestenra:

Saturday, December 12, 2015

Rejoice! Gaudete Sunday: 3rd Sunday of Advent 2015

Brothers and sisters:
Rejoice in the Lord always.
I shall say it again: rejoice!
Your kindness should be known to all.
The Lord is near.
Have no anxiety at all, but in everything, 
by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, 
make your requests known to God.
Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding 
will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. (Philipians 4:4-7)






Happy Gaudete Sunday!  Speaking of which, the gentlemen below do a wonderful version of the ancient hymn "Gaudete, Christus est Natus".  The visual is a little fuzzy (and, truth be told, more formal attire would be nice), but their rendition is absolutely beautiful.

Deus homo factus est
Natura Mirante,
Mundus renovatus est
A Christo regnante!

Gaudete, gaudete!  Christus est natus
Ex Maria virgine, gaudete!



Saturday, December 5, 2015

St. Nicholas: Lover, Fighter . . . or Both?


St. Nicholas of Myra Saves Three Innocents From Death (Ilya Repin)

     Hang out your stockings: December 6th, is the feast day of St. Nicholas of Myra.  Over the last couple of centuries the modern Santa Claus has somehow developed from the figure of this 4th century bishop, but the real Saint has retained a strong devotion in both the Eastern and Western churches.  I say the “real Saint” with the proviso that he is another one of those Saints about whom little is known with historical certainty; as the biography at Catholic Online [here] tells us, “his episcopate at Myra during the fourth century is really all that seems indubitably authentic.”  Nonetheless, I think it’s reasonable to assume that what has come down to us has some basis, at least, in his life and in the sort of person he was. 
     The most well-known story today concerns his generosity.  Having inherited great wealth from his parents, he decided, while still a young man, to give his money to the poor.  He famously rescued three poverty-stricken young women from being sold into prostitution by secretly throwing bags of money in through their windows. This incident is the inspiration for the tradition of leaving gifts in shoes or stockings on St. Nicholas Day.  He is also known as an exemplar of mercy, which fits nicely with generosity (and with the image of Santa Claus).  The best-known story about him in the first millennium tells how he appeared in a dream to the Emperor Constantine on behalf of three men who had been imprisoned unjustly; having learned that the official who was holding the men had a similar dream, and that the men had been praying for Nicholas’s help, the Emperor set them free.
St. Nicholas (R) has a theological discussion with Arius (L)
     Another old story about St. Nicholas, one which has recently enjoyed new popularity, tells of him attending the Council of Nicaea in 325 where, in a fit of anger, he slapped Arius, for whom the Arian Heresy is named.  This story has an irresistible appeal for many Catholics involved in apologetics, particularly when cast as a humorous contrast to affable image of Santa Claus (the Saint’s slap is often upgraded in these accounts to a more manly punch).  One can find numerous reproductions online, for instance, of ancient frescoes depicting the incident with captions like “I came to give kids presents and punch heretics . . . and I just ran out of presents!”  I have to admit, I have chuckled at some of these myself.  At the same time, it would seem that smacking Arius, heresiarch though he was, falls a little short of the Christian Charity test; the council fathers thought so, at least: we are told that they “deprived [Nicholas] of his episcopal insignia and committed him to prison”. We are also told that Jesus frees him from prison and restores him to his bishopric, so we can take that as confirmation that, despite his impulsiveness, his heart was in the right place. In any case, the incident illustrates another important aspect of the Saint: a man who was fiercely dedicated to preserving and defending the Truth.
     There may seem to be an incongruity between the Jolly Old Saint Nick who comes to the aid of poor maidens and innocent prisoners on the one hand, and the righteous crusader who puts a whuppin’ on heretics on the other, but that’s not the case.  The salvation that Jesus lived, suffered and died to bring us is salvation from sin, not from physical hardships.  What could be more generous or merciful than saving a brother from sin, or even more so, preventing him from leading others into it [see here]?  Granted, we are called to do so with love (Ephesians 4:15), so I wouldn’t recommend emulating St. Nicholas’s smackdown of Arius.  Nonetheless, St. Nicholas embodies an important truth: that Generosity and Mercy are not opposed to Justice and Truth, but are, indeed must be, different sides of the same coin, as Scripture attests:

Show us thy steadfast love, O LORD,
and grant us thy salvation.
Let me hear what God the LORD will speak,
for he will speak peace to his people,
to his saints, to those who turn to him in their hearts.
Surely his salvation is at hand for those who fear him,
that glory may dwell in our land.
Steadfast love and faithfulness will meet;
righteousness and peace will kiss each other.
Faithfulness will spring up from the ground,
and righteousness will look down from the sky.  (Psalm 85:7-11)

That’s not a bad thing to reflect on this weekend as we celebrate the Feast of St. Nicholas: Bishop, Lover, and Fighter.

    


    

Wednesday, August 5, 2015

Be Vigilant At All Times

(This Throwback Thursday post was first published November 29th, 2014)


   I discovered a very curious thing yesterday.  As we were saying our family prayers, I noticed that the rosary that I have been carrying has only nine beads on its first decade, as you can see in the picture to the left.  It has wooden beads strung on a strong cord which has never broken, so it must have been that way since I bought it.
     The first thought that entered my mind (after I got over my initial surprise) was of the Muslim prayer rugs that have a few stiches the wrong color, or the great mosques where every row of columns has one that’s just slightly out of kilter.  The makers put these imperfections into their work intentionally, as an acknowledgement that only God can lay claim to perfection, which it is right and proper for us to acknowledge.
     These visible flaws don’t simply remind us that God is perfect, of course; their purpose is also to remind us that we ourselves are radically imperfect; not simply morally flawed, but incomplete without God.  So my flawed rosary, through the (unintentional, no doubt) mistake of its maker can represent the flawed nature of all of us. 
     There is also a reminder here, however, of my own particular imperfection: I have carried this rosary in my pocket for seven or eight years; I don't use it every day (when I pray the rosary in the car, as I often do, I usually forgo the beads and use my fingers, in the interests of automotive safety), but I use it frequently enough that I ought to have noticed that it is one “Hail Mary” short.  In fact, I really should have noticed when I first bought it at the local Catholic book store.  So, I have not only a symbol of human imperfection, but a very real, concrete reminder of my own broken nature, and in a very particular area.    
     Today, as it happens, is the last day of Ordinary Time [i.e., when the post was first published].  Here is the Gospel reading for the day:

Jesus said to his disciples: “Beware that your hearts do not become drowsy from carousing and drunkenness and the anxieties of daily life, and that day catch you by surprise like a trap. For that day will assault everyone who lives on the face of the earth. Be vigilant at all times and pray that you have the strength to escape the tribulations that are imminent and to stand before the Son of Man.”    (Luke 21:34-36)


As we are about to embark on the Season of Advent, in which we prepare for the coming of Jesus, not only at Christmas, but at his second coming, and also his coming for each one of us individually, we are enjoined to pay attention.  It looks like I have my work cut out for me; and every time I put my hand in my pocket, I have a tangible warning of how far I have to go.

Friday, December 26, 2014

Christmas Is Just Beginning!

  I have a vivid memory of a Christmas years ago, shortly after my return to the Faith, seeing the Christmas tree literally hurled through the front door on the afternoon of Christmas Day (this at the home of relatives who shall remain unnamed).  I was struck by how switched-around things had become, how the commercial “holiday season” had so thoroughly subverted the traditional liturgical “Christmas Season”.  Since that time my Lovely Bride and I have been looking for ways to preserve and honor Advent as a season of penitence and preparation, and Christmas (all of it) in its proper place, as “Christ’s Mass”.   
 
      We have found this endeavor to be more difficult than it sounds: it’s hard to be penitential when everyone around you is celebrating, and hard as well to celebrate when everyone else is worn out from revelry.  I was musing on all this as I sat in the pew before Midnight Mass, and it occurred to me that, since I have a blog, one thing I could do is to post something specific to each of the Twelve Days through the Christmas Season.  It need not be something long or involved (in fact, brevity would be a plus), but it should be relevant.  I began planning my posts on the spot: you can see my posts for Days 1 and 2 here and here.
     I suspect that it might become difficult to keep it up as the Christmas Season approaches its end, but part of the purpose of the Twelve Posts of Christmas is to keep myself focused on the real “Reason for the Season” as Christ’s Church has given it to us; I hope to help others to do the same.  Merry Christmas to all!

      

Monday, December 22, 2014

Frederica von Stade - Lo, How a Rose E'er Blooming

This will be my last Advent musical posting, I think.  This is one of my favorite songs of the Advent Season, especially when beautifully sung, as it is here by Frederica von Stade.  


O Flower, whose fragrance tender
With sweetness fills the air,
Dispel with glorious splendour
The darkness everywhere;
True man, yet very God,
From Sin and death now save us,

And share our every load.     




Sunday, December 21, 2014

Sunday Snippets - A Catholic Carnival (4th Sunday of Advent 2014)

    Welcome to Sunday Snippets – A Catholic Carnival, Ladies and Gentleman.  Sunday Snippets is a weekly gathering of Catholic bloggers who come together (in a virtual sort of way) to share their posts for the past week.  The main party is here, at This That and the Other Thing, home of our gracious hostess RAnn, who is also providing the eggnog - but don’t worry, as good Catholics we won’t even think about touching it until Christmas Day.

     Today on the Fourth Sunday of Advent, as we anticipate celebrating the Nativity of Our Lord in a few short days, I am reminded of the following passage from the Old Testament, in which God comes to the prophet Elijah as he hides in a cave:

And he [the Lord] said, "Go forth, and stand upon the mount before the LORD." And behold, the LORD passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and broke in pieces the rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire; and after the fire a still small voice; And when Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave. And behold, there came a voice to him, and said, "What are you doing here, Elijah?"  (1 Kings: 11-13)

This, in its way, is as clear a foretaste of the Messiah as the passages we read in Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel throughout advent.  Most of us have probably heard that, before the coming of Christ, people lived in fear of divine power.  Encountering God was something to be avoided: the point of praying and offering sacrifice, even sacrificing one’s own flesh and blood, was so that God (more often understood as “the gods”) would leave you alone.  We can detect echoes of this ancient attitude in the account of Abraham as he brought his beloved son Isaac up Mount Moriah, prepared to offer him up (Genesis 22).  The story of Abraham and Isaac, in which God reverses expectations and provides the lamb in place of Isaac, shows us the end of Christ’s earthly ministry; the story of Elijah in the cave shows us its surprising beginning. God doesn’t show himself in any of the terrifying guises one would expect (wind, earthquake, fire), but as a “still, small, voice” (in some translations a “whisper”).  In just the same way, the second person of the Trinity comes among us in the least threatening way imaginable: a helpless little baby, cradled in a feeding trough.  No wonder, when the Angel announces Jesus’ birth to the shepherds, he first tells them not to be afraid; and then he says:

For behold, I bring you good news of a great joy which will come to all the people: for to you is born this day in the city of Davis a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.  And this will be a sign for you: you will find a babe wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger. (Luke 2:10-12).

Good News , indeed.  It is, in fact, a Great Joy, and not at all a bad thing when God is in our midst, for “God is Love”(1 John 4:8); and the Infinite Creator of the Universe makes himself finite, small and vulnerable . . . for us.
     And from the sublime to the, well, rather less than sublime.  One year ago today Principium et Finis published its first blog post, the first of a five-part series discussing St. Thomas Aquinas’s teaching on conscience (later reposted in more digestible form here).  It’s been a lot of fun, and I’ve learned a few things along the way.  Such as, eventually, to get to the point - and so here are my posts for this week:

Monday – Perhaps the oldest of Christmas songs, and certainly one of the most lovely: “Of the Father’s Love Begotten” [here]

Tuesday – As St. Therese of Lisieux learned after Midnight Mass in 1886, we all get just the conversion experience we need, if we’re willing to take it:  “The Christmas Conversion of St. Therese”  [here]

Wednesday – Don’t buy the lie, ladies and gentlemen; there is no greater affront to the rights and dignity of women today than abortion: “Abortion Myth #13” [here]

Thursday – No matter how hungry you are, God has bigger things in store for you than a bowl of soup: “Being Christian in the Age of Esau” [here

Friday – OK, I see a Theme For The Week here: look below the surface, there’s more at stake than mere appearances suggest.  Today it’s architecture . . . sort of: “When A Church Is Not A Church” [here]



Finally, as we wait in joyful hope for the coming of Our Savior at Christmas, at the End of Time, and to each one of us in our own lives, here’s a beautiful song, "Mary Did You Know?" performed by the lovely HayleyWestenra:

Tuesday, December 16, 2014

The Christmas Conversion of St.Thérèse

The future St.Thérèse (R) with sister Pauline
        In the lives of the Saints we can find some amazing stories of Conversion: the Risen Lord literally knocking his persecutor Saul to ground and blinding him, in order to raise him up as St. Paul; the rich and spoiled son of an Italian cloth merchant who needed a year in a dungeon as a POW followed by a near fatal illness before he cast off self-indulgence to become St. Francis of Assissi; the vain and vainglorious Spanish nobleman who had his leg nearly shot off with a cannonball, and then went through months of excruciating recovery, before he could begin to see God in All Things as St. Ignatius of Loyola.  How startlingly different, and yet how strikingly the same is the conversion of the little French girl Thérèse Martin, now St. Thérèse of the Child Jesus, as she tells it her autobiographical Story of A Soul

     I had a constant and ardent desire to advance in virtue, but often my actions were spoilt by imperfections. My extreme sensitiveness made me almost unbearable. All arguments were useless. I simply could not correct myself of this miserable fault. . .  A miracle on a small scale was needed to give me strength of character all at once, and God worked this long-desired miracle on Christmas Day, 1886. . .
     Now I will tell you, dear Mother, how I received this inestimable grace of complete conversion. I knew that when we reached home after Midnight Mass I should find my shoes in the chimney-corner, filled with presents, just as when I was a little child, which proves that my sisters still treated me as a baby. Papa, too, liked to watch my enjoyment and hear my cries of delight at each fresh surprise that came from the magic shoes, and his pleasure added to mine. But the time had come when Our Lord wished to free me from childhood's failings, and even withdraw me from its innocent pleasures. On this occasion, instead of indulging me as he generally did, Papa seemed vexed, and on my way upstairs I heard him say: "Really all this is too babyish for a big girl like Thérèse, and I hope it is the last year it will happen." His words cut me to the quick. Céline, knowing how sensitive I was, whispered: "Don't go downstairs just yet—wait a little, you would cry too much if you looked at your presents before Papa." But Thérèse was no longer the same—Jesus had changed her heart.
     Choking back my tears, I ran down to the dining-room, and, though my heart beat fast, I picked up my shoes, and gaily pulled out all the things, looking as happy as a queen. Papa laughed, and did not show any trace of displeasure, and Céline thought she must be dreaming. But happily it was a reality; little Thérèse had regained, once for all, the strength of mind which she had lost at the age of four and a half.
     On this night of grace, the third period of my life began—the most beautiful of all, the one most filled with heavenly favours. In an instant Our Lord, satisfied with my good will, accomplished the work I had not been able to do during all these years. Like the Apostle I could say: "Master, we have laboured all night, and have taken nothing."
     More merciful to me even than to His beloved disciples, Our Lord Himself took the net, cast it, and drew it out full of fishes. He made me a fisher of men. Love and a spirit of self-forgetfulness took possession of me, and from that time I was perfectly happy.

The Lord didn’t need to knock Thérèse down, beat her up, or have her shot in order to get her full attention; all he needed was to allow her to overhear a couple of stray comments from the father she loved so dearly.  That wounded her deeply enough to reveal to her the reality of her own selfishness, and to open her up completely to Christ’s Grace.  The meaning of Conversion, after all, is to “turn around” from a way of life dictated by our own desires to one truly centered on God.
     Now, most of us need a wake-up more like that which was granted to St. Paul or St. Francis; perhaps not quite as dramatic, but most of us, I suspect, are much more wrapped up in our sin than was little Thérèse Martin.  But that is precisely why the Little Flower’s conversion stands out: even someone who seems to be doing just about everything right is still in need of conversion, and not just in one instant, but continuously over a lifetime (and of course she did experience greater suffering later in her short life). Sin will always be trying to turn us back. 
     St. Thérèse’s conversion story reminds us of something else.  There will always be opportunities for conversion.  We don’t need to go out looking for trouble, because we will all have ample opportunity to experience The Fall in our lives.  The more enmeshed we are in sin, however, and the higher the walls between ourselves and God, the harder our fall must be.  Wouldn’t it be better to come to Christ like Thérèse did, without too much collateral damage to ourselves and to others?
     Finally, St. Thérèse learned to turn her hurt and disappointment into generosity of spirit, her selfishness to selflessness.  When I think back on her Christmas of 1886 I am reminded that I need to ask my Lord for the Grace to do the same. O come, O come Emmanuel!

     

Monday, December 15, 2014

Of the Father's Love Begotten

"Of The Father's Love Begotten" is a beautiful and ancient hymn.  Written in Latin in the 5th century by Aurelius Prudentius (translated in the 19th century by Henry W. Baker and J.M. Neale); the tune is Divinum Mysterium, an 11th century chant.  You can find a good discussion of this hymn, along with other typically incisive insights here, in an article by the indispensible Anthony Esolen.  May you have a Blessed Advent.






Christ, to Thee with God the Father,
And, O Holy Ghost, to Thee,
Hymn and chant and high thanksgiving
And unwearied praises be.
Honor, glory, and dominion,
And eternal victory,
Evermore and evermore.



Sunday, December 14, 2014

Sunday Snippets - A Catholic Carnival (Gaudete Sunday 2014)

     Gaudete!  Today, on this the Third Sunday of Advent, we look forward with Joyful Hope to the coming of Jesus Christ at Christmas, and at the End of Time.  Welcome also to Sunday Snippets (a Catholic Carnival); if you’re a fan of Catholic bloggery (and if you’re not, yet, you should give it a try), this is the place to go on the Lord’s Day.  Not simply my little corner of the party, but the main gathering at This That and the Other Thing [here], where a varied collection of Papist bloggers gather around RAnn’s Advent Wreath to share their posts from the past week.

The reredos at the Franco Center in Lewiston, ME
     Before I get to my own snippets, I’d like to share a couple other things from my week.  First of all, a pleasant surprise Friday night. My family and I attended a concert by a local youth orchestra in which the daughter of family friends was participating.  The youth orchestra was to be accompanied by a madrigal group from a local public high school.  We anticipated that the orchestra and singers would be good (and we were not disappointed), but given their secular affiliation (especially for the high school group), we didn’t expect that we would hear much about Christmas at this “Holiday Concert”.  The event was taking place in the auditorium of another public school, where a poster advertising the student production of a musical called “Urine Town” (no, I’m not making this up) tended to confirm our suspicions.  I am pleased to report, however, that not only did the student musicians beautifully perform songs about Christmas, but songs celebrating Christ.  Among other things, “I Wonder As I Wander”, which featured a lovely young soprano singing:

            I wonder as I wander out under the sky
            How Jesus the Savior did come for to die
            For poor orn’ry people like you and like I
            I wonder as I wander out under the sky

The players and singers concluded their concert with a glorious rendition of Handel’s “Halleluiah Chorus”, with the clearly energized young people in the orchestra putting forth their best performance of the night, and the chorus joyfully singing out “And He [i.e., Christ] shall reign for ever and ever!”  No, it was not a religious observance, but it wasn’t supposed to be: it was, simply, a performance.  I found it refreshing that, at least in a small town in Maine, a group from a secular school can still sing Christmas songs at a Christmas concert without causing a Constitutional Crisis.
     It also brought to mind another experience from a few days earlier.  We attended a talk Wednesday night at a place in Lewiston called the Franco Center, formerly the Franco American Heritage Center, and before that, for most of its existence, St. Mary’s Church.  There’s always something sad about a former Catholic church building converted to secular use.  I couldn’t help but notice that this one retained an unusual number of churchy details, no doubt because of the important place Catholicism played in the lives of the French Canadian community for so many years: there was a large crucifix in a glass display case in the lobby, very few of the architectural details had been removed or hidden, and the display cases inside the nave contained, among other historical artifacts, vestments and prayer books.  The biggest surprise, however, was yet to come: in order to accommodate theater-style seating, a new floor had been built that sloped up from front to back, until it reached the pointed tops of the Gothic arches beneath which worshipers had entered in years past.  When we climbed atop this structure to our seats we were greeted with an unexpected sight: although the high altar itself had (of course) been removed, its towering wooden reredos remained (or better yet, this having been a French-speaking parish, it’s retable).  The niche for the tabernacle was still visible, the red Alpha and Omega still stood out prominently, and above all, a big beautiful Madonna holding the Baby Jesus.

Interior of the Franco Center, formerly St. Mary's Church
     It was a wonderful sight, but it prompted thoughts both negative and positive.  On the negative side, I was struck with the realization that this secular hall still looked more like a Catholic Church than many recent church buildings still being used for that purpose.  On the plus side, however, and the more lasting impression: I was reminded that, however difficult things may look along the way, the Gates of Hell will not prevail.  As with the Christmas concert, the Christian roots of our culture have a way of showing up in all sorts of places. It’s good to be reminded from time to time.
     As for the week’s snippets from Principium et Finis, I found myself giving more attention, sadly, to some of the more negative trends in the culture, particularly as the week wore on:

    
Monday – Another beautiful Psalm setting from another great, but neglected, composer: “De Profundis (C.W. Gluck)” [here]


Wednesday – “A person is a person”, Dr. Seuss assures us, “no matter how small”.  Well, not everyone agrees:  “Abortion Myth #12” [here]


Thursday – A revamping of a piece from this past Spring, this one examines some of the consequences of family break-down for the health of the Republic:  “Marriage, Family & Liberty” [here]


Friday – Dispatches from the Brave New World of sex education: “A Couple Paving Stones On The Road To Hell” [here]  


Finally, this being Gaudete Sunday, let’s end on a positive note:

Sunday, December 7, 2014

Sunday Snippets - A Catholic Carnival (2nd Sunday of Advent 2014)

     A Blessed Second Sunday of Advent to all, and welcome to Sunday Snippets – A Catholic Carnival, a weekly convocation of bloggers in union with the Church and the Successor of Peter (a.k.a. the Pope) who share their work from the past week at the main gathering (i.e., the Big Top) hereat This That and the Other Thing, home of our hostess RAnn. 

   Speaking of Popes, we have had a very unusual situation the last few years, unprecedented in modern times - we have two men living who have borne the title and filled the office of Pope: Pope Francis and Pope Emeritus Benedict.  No Pope had resigned for centuries before Benedict XVI, mostly to avoid destabilizing the Church.  A retired Pope could undermine the authority of the reigning Pope, or become the focal point, even if he didn’t wish it, of a schismatic movement.  While he papacy doesn’t wield the sort of secular influence it did in the Middle Ages, and Popes are no longer in the habit of imprisoning rivals, the danger still remains of a former Pope complicating the work of his successor, and confusing the faithful.
     I was acutely aware of this tricky situation this past week: I had two items featuring the recently retired Pontiff that were ready to post, but I was a little apprehensive about seeming to be disloyal to Pope Francis, or to be offering up an underhanded criticism by paying too much attention to his predecessor.  I chose in the end to publish both items, but I assure you that they ae not intended to cast any sort of negative light on our current Vicar.  The fact is, from his time as Pope, before that as head of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith (CDF), and even before that as a leading theologian, Joseph Ratzinger has left a substantial and important body of work, which we’ll be talking about for some time to come.
     Pope Emeritus Benedict himself understands quite well the delicate situation he brought about when he stepped down from the Papacy. He has stayed out of the way, making very few public appearances and even fewer statements.  That’s why apologist Jimmy Akin [article here] is so intrigued by the Pope Emeritus (sort of) publicly countering Cardinal Kasper’s most recent attempt to change the Church’s ancient practice of withholding Communion from divorced and remarried Catholics.  Cardinal Kasper has floated this same proposal several times over the last few decades, but every time he runs up against the same obstacle: Joseph Ratzinger.  This time, Akin surmises, Kasper thought he could take advantage of his long-time adversary’s public reticence, this time boldly citing an essay from 1972 in which a much younger Father Ratzinger seemed to be endorsing Kasper’s current view.  Ratzinger rejected that view decades ago, however, and now a republication of his earlier works has afforded an opportunity to subtly, but clearly, counter Kasper’s fancy footwork.  Read Jimmy Akin’s article to get the full story.

      But perhaps you were wondering when I’d get to the snippets?  Of course.  Here is what was happening at Principium et Finis over the First Week of Advent:

Monday – A follow-up to last week’s post; this composer, in my view, truly deserves to be heard more often: “ Antonio Salieri – Requiem in C Minor: ‘Agnus Dei’” [here]

Tuesday – Sure we love fetuses, but other than that we Pro-Lifers are a hard-hearted lot, are we not?  “Abortion Myth #11” [here]

Thursday – The first Ratzinger post of the week, featuring a document issued by the CDF when he was its head honcho: “On Being A Christian In Public Life” [here]

Friday – Jolly Old St. Nick was not a one-dimensional Saint:  “St. Nicholas: Lover, or Fighter?” [here]

Saturday – Here Joseph Ratzinger appears as Pope Benedict XVI, along with Russell Moore of Southern Baptist Conference: “What’s So Funny About Peace, Love and Ecumenism?”[here]

Finally, Here's one of our favorite Advent Hymns, based on today's Gospel:

Saturday, December 6, 2014

What's So Funny About Peace, Love and Ecumenism?

“I do not pray for these only, but also for those who believe in me through their word, that they may all be one; even as Thou, Father, art in Me, and I in Thee, that they also may be in Us, so that the world may believe that thou hast sent me.” (John 20:16-27)

     It is clear from the scripture passage above that Christ does not want his body (i.e., the Church) to be divided, and that the failure of “those who believe” in Him to be one is an impediment to evangelization. And yet the division of his Mystical Body into numerous different churches and communities is an ongoing scandal.  We might well wonder whether any sort of unity is really possible.  How could it come about?  What would it look like?

     As it happens, Pope Benedict XVI gave a talk on just this topic to a gathering of Protestant and Orthodox Christians in Cologne, Germany, nine years ago (story and full text here), drawing in part on St. John Paul II’s encyclical Ut Unum Sint [text here], in part on his own reflections.  Benedict warns his listeners (and us) that unity is something that we ourselves can’t make happen, but that “it it is the Lord who gives unity, that we do not create it, that it is he who gives it but that we must go to meet him.”  He does suggest that part of the answer lies in Christians of different communities uniting against common adversaries in the wider world:

Our divisions are contrary to the will of Jesus and they disappoint peoples' expectations. I think that we must work with new energy and dedication to bring a common witness into the context of these great ethical challenges of our time.  

At the same time he recognizes that there are real differences between different Christian traditions: he points out that, from the Catholic perspective, “This unity, we are convinced, indeed subsists in the Catholic Church, without the possibility of ever being lost”. Real unity can only be achieved within the Church established by Jesus Christ, and in accordance with the Truth handed on by Christ. At the same time, he recognizes that we Catholics cannot reasonably demand that Protestants, for instance, simply jettison their entire  experience of faith:

On the other hand, this unity does not mean what could be called ecumenism of the return: that is, to deny and to reject one's own faith history. Absolutely not! It does not mean uniformity in all expressions of theology and spirituality, in liturgical forms and in discipline.


This looks like something of an impasse: how can we do both of these things?  Well, we can’t. Pope Benedict goes on to say:

It is obvious that this dialogue can develop only in a context of sincere and committed spirituality. We cannot "bring about" unity by our powers alone. We can only obtain unity as a gift of the Holy Spirit. Consequently, spiritual ecumenism – prayer, conversion and the sanctification of life – constitutes the heart of the meeting and of the ecumenical movement (cf. “Unitatis Redintegratio”, n. 8; “Ut Unum Sint”, 15ff., 21, etc.). It could be said that the best form of ecumenism consists in living in accordance with the Gospel.   [italics mine]

Unity, then, will only come as a form of Grace, which we cannot create, but with which we must cooperate if is to be fruitful.  Our cooperation here, as in the rest of the Christian life, takes the form of fidelity, that is, “living in accordance with the Gospel.”      
     In his closing, Pope Benedict describes what that fidelity looks like:

I see good reason in this context for optimism in the fact that today a kind of "network" of spiritual links is developing between Catholics and Christians from the different Churches and Ecclesial Communities: each individual commits himself to prayer, to the examination of his own life, to the purification of memory, to the openness of charity.  

Prayer, first of all, which is calling upon God’s help and submitting to his will; examination of life and purification of memory, in order to remove obstacles emanating from pride, resentment, or decisive emotional attachments, and third, as a sort of summation (just where St. Paul puts it in 1 Corinthians 13:13), charity, love.  All must be done in a spirit of love toward our separated brethren in Christ.
Russell Moore

     This decade-old talk by the now Pope Emeritus came to mind when I ran across an interview the other day that Kathryn Lopez conducted with Russell Moore [here], president of the Southern Baptist Ethics and Religious Liberty Commission.  Moore had just returned from the Vatican where he had spoken at a conference on men, women, family, complementarity and various other related unfashionable topics.  There are some interesting connections between his comments and some of the points Benedict made in his talk.
     First of all, when Lopez asks “What was the ecumenical dynamic like”, Moore answers:Well, this wasn’t one of those ‘let’s pretend we all agree on everything’ ecumenical gatherings, and that’s one of the reasons it was so productive.” He goes on to explain that

Jewish leaders  . . .  Mormons and Taoists and Buddhists spoke from their perspective, without pretending to be part of some generic “faith-based community.” The pope was Catholic. This was one of the few such gatherings I’ve attended where theology was taken seriously, both in our agreements and in our differences. Probably more important than the actual sessions, though, were the coffee breaks and the meals, where we had deep conversations about things that mattered. By the end of the week, I think many of us learned to love one another more.

What stands out for me here (aside from the encouraging endorsement of Pope Francis’s Catholicity: more on that below) is, first of all, the fidelity of all the participants to their own traditions.  Without such fidelity, there can be no authenticity, and without authenticity there can be no love.  And of course as Christians we recognize the importance of personal relationships: do we not come to know God through the person of the Man Jesus Christ?  Notice also, for Moore as for Benedict, the key thing is Love, which can only happen between persons, not institutions.
     Moore’s comments on the Catholic Church are of interest as well, particularly in light of Pope Benedict’s talk.  When asked why “it is important for the Catholic Church to lead on these things”, he answers

For most of our history, English and American Baptist Christians thought the greatest threat to religious liberty would come from the Roman Catholic Church. Now we find that some of our greatest allies on religious freedom are Roman Catholics. The threat to our religious liberties comes from a different papacy than we thought — that of a secularizing statism that seeks to pave over consciences with government power.

This would seem to be an example of what Benedict meant by bringing “common witness into the context of these great ethical challenges of our time.”   Of Pope Francis in particular Moore says:

I was especially cheered by his comments on marriage, especially given the media confusion just weeks earlier over the synod deliberations on the family. Pope Francis made it clear that he believes male/female complementarity is essential to marriage and that this cannot be undone or erased by modern ideologies. He also made clear that he believes that every child has the right to both a mother and a father.


It’s worth noting that the Baptist leader not only welcomes papal leadership in the cultural struggle, but seems as disappointed as many of us Catholics about the confusion emanating from the recent Synod on the Family.
     There is much else that is of interest in Lopez’s interview with Russell Moore, more than I can discuss here, but I’ll look at one last thing.  In response to a question about Christmas, Moore makes the following observations:

. . . the Christmas season ought to drive us to the biblical text, which is not all tinsel and garlands. Instead, the Christmas narrative is set in the context of spiritual warfare, of a light that is shining out of darkness.
For several years, I’ve been convinced that the model we most need in this day is that of Joseph of Nazareth. In a day when fathers are seen as expendable, we should look at Joseph, who sacrificed his own future for his wife and child. In a world filled with orphans in need of families, we should look at the example of this adopting father who poured out himself to become a father to one who was of no biological relation to him.

The Holy Family
It’s refreshing to hear a prominent Baptist speaking of St. Joseph in this way; he sounds almost Catholic (and in fact I have made similar observations myself: here for instance).  
     Of course, I’m not saying that we are seeing the end of the Reformation era divisions in the Church, or even the beginning of the end (to paraphrase Winston Churchill), but such signs of the thawing of emotional barriers, and the working of the Power of Love, are reason for Hope.  I propose that during this Advent, the Season of Hope, we make special intercession to St. Joseph, Foster-father of the Son of God,  Watchful defender of Christ,  Head of the Holy Family (and hence for the entire Christian Family), for the healing of the divisions in his Son’s Mystical Body.

O God, who in Thine ineffable providence didst vouchsafe to choose blessed Joseph to be the spouse of Thy most holy Mother: grant, we beseech Thee, that we may have him for an intercessor in heaven, whom we venerate as our protector on earth. Who livest and reignest world without end. Amen.