Helpful Direction in a Raging Storm

Facing a great deal of personal struggle and soul-searching lately, I stumbled across this fascinating conclusion to a chapter in which Father Simon Tugwell explores Christ's beatitude, "Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth." I'll let him speak for himself, as I couldn't say it any better (very thought-provoking, I'd say):

It is when we are finally stumped, when we can think of nothing more that we can do, that we can most easily - though even then it is not, simply, easy - appreciate that problems are not just things calling for solutions. A problem is, more essentially, a unique situation calling for expression. It calls for a poet, a painter, a composer. And sometimes, in God's providence, we may be that poet or painter or composer. Each individual situation in our world is an artistic, rather than an administrative, challenge. If we would inherit the earth, it must be, not by competent administration, but by something much more like artistic sensitivity and creativity.

It is surely the meek, those whose instinct is not to rush out and do something, but rather to look, helpless, passive before reality, and then, in union with God's Word, to be, so speak, the word which releases each creature into itself, it is they who can enjoy a proper lordship in the earth. So do not get heated because of the wicked, there is no future in them or your fury. Rather rejoice hugely in the Lord and be content to rest in his truthfulness and to gaze with wonder upon the world of his making, and, with the eye of faith and hope, to see that world in the making even in the despair and helplessness of the world of everyday experience.

                                      Father Simon Tugwell, O.P.
                                      The Beatitudes: Soundings in Christian Traditions, pp. 46-47

Kerygma - to accept or not to accept

"There is no entry fee to meet Jesus." - Pope Francis

The journey will cost me everything because it requires a complete handing over of my entire life to the God who gave me that life in the first place. But the invitation, the encounter with the living God who was once dead but no longer lies in the tomb, that is offered freely.

He calls each person by name. He meets you and me somewhere, some day. He is in the darkness and in the light, the highs and the lows. He meets us when we're crazy busy at work mending our nets or collecting tax revenues. He meets us in the dark recesses of an affair or a maddening addiction. He flashes the light of truth on us when we're in the middle of persecuting others through hate-filled political agitating or accusatory, uncharitable protesting - and we fall to the ground like Saul of Tarsus as Christ says, "Why are you persecuting me?"

The encounter comes to each human person in as many varieties as there are people. But He comes to everyone, one-on-one without exception, as if you were the only person who had ever lived. At some point you will be offered this "kerygma" as the Greeks called it - the proclamation of the Good News that God took flesh and paid full price for your freedom from sin. He came to give you a way out of the prison of selfishness, misery and death. And He did it by handing himself over to death itself so as to destroy it from the inside out.

Salvation is God's to give, not ours to take. We cannot dictate terms to Him. The question is this: will we each choose to accept the gift or reject it? He, the infinitely loving Father, will forever respect our decision.

Development of Doctrine

Pope Francis mentioned this reading in one of his recent interviews. It's the second reading from the Church's "Liturgy of the Hours" (the official daily prayer of the Catholic Church) and it comes from St. Vincent of Lérins (?-445 AD). What a beautiful and concise reflection on what we mean by "development of doctrine." Check it out!

Second Reading

From the first instruction by Saint Vincent of Lérins, priest

The Development of Doctrine

Is there to be no development of religion in the Church of Christ? Certainly, there is to be development and on the largest scale.

Who can be so grudging to men, so full of hate for God, as to try to prevent it? But it must truly be development of the faith, not alteration of the faith. Development means that each thing expands to be itself, while alteration means that a thing is changed from one thing into another.

The understanding, knowledge and wisdom of one and all, of individuals as well as of the whole Church, ought then to make great and vigorous progress with the passing of the ages and the centuries, but only along its own line of development, that is, with the same doctrine, the same meaning and the same import.

The religion of souls should follow the law of development of bodies. Though bodies develop and unfold their component parts with the passing of the years, they always remain what they were. There is a great difference between the flower of childhood and the maturity of age, but those who become old are the very same people who were once young. Though the condition and appearance of one and the same individual may change, it is one and the same nature, one and the same person.

The tiny members of unweaned children and the grown members of young men are still the same members. Men have the same number of limbs as children. Whatever develops at a later age was already present in seminal form; there is nothing new in old age that was not already latent in childhood.

There is no doubt, then, that the legitimate and correct rule of development, the established and wonderful order of growth, is this: in older people the fullness of years always brings to completion those members and forms that the wisdom of the Creator fashioned beforehand in their earlier years.

If, however, the human form were to turn into some shape that did not belong to its own nature, or even if something were added to the sum of its members or subtracted from it, the whole body would necessarily perish or become grotesque or at least be enfeebled. In the same way, the doctrine of the Christian religion should properly follow these laws of development, that is, by becoming firmer over the years, more ample in the course of time, more exalted as it advances in age.

In ancient times our ancestors sowed the good seed in the harvest field of the Church. It would be very wrong and unfitting if we, their descendants, were to reap, not the genuine wheat of truth but the intrusive growth of error.

On the contrary, what is right and fitting is this: there should be no inconsistency between first and last, but we should reap true doctrine from the growth of true teaching, so that when, in the course of time, those first sowings yield an increase it may flourish and be tended in our day also.

Christ, have mercy on us

Something caught my eye in Pope Francis' recent America interview. The press was abuzz with shocked experts who, for some reason, were surprised by a pope who said he is a "sinner." For those of us who try fervently to live out our faith in Christ, there is no shock at all over his words. What caught my eye though was that in this portion of the interview he discusses the reality that he is, like everyone else, in great need of the Lord's mercy. He continues:

...the best summary, the one that comes more from the inside and I feel most true is this: I am a sinner whom the Lord has looked upon... I ​​am one who is looked upon by the Lord. I always felt my motto, Miserando atque Eligendo ["By Having Mercy and by Choosing Him"], was very true for me.

He continues with something that catches my attention in a particular way:

I think the Latin gerund miserando is impossible to translate in both Italian and Spanish. I like to translate it with another gerund that does not exist: misericordiando [“mercy-ing”].

It occurs to me that I usually think of "having mercy" on someone as merely a passive action. I want to punish this person, I want them to pay for what they've done, to be brought to justice. But instead I hold back and I behave mercifully instead. Mercy is usually perceived then an act of restriction or repression. I'm holding back from what I truly want. I don't think I'm alone in this; I imagine it's pretty common.

What I find so intriguing about the Holy Father's words is his understanding of mercy as an active action, not a passive one. What a different perspective this can give us. If we are to have any hope of really seeing Christ's mercy as strength and not weakness (and emulating him in being merciful), I think it's crucial to develop this notion of active rather than passive mercy. Then I can start to see "having mercy on others" in the right light. I can begin to see the countless opportunities before me to reach out with a compassionate mind, an empathetic heart, with Christ's own merciful hands. Showing others mercy becomes an act of gift-giving to those I encounter each day.

I'll close this entry with a simple and beautiful quote from Pope Francis in the same America article, a statement born out of true humility and something that should guide all who seek to grow closer to Our Lord:

I am a sinner, but I trust in the infinite mercy and patience of our Lord Jesus Christ, and I accept in a spirit of penance.