A Prayer at the Sea

My Lord, I stand upon the shore in a state of awe. I never gaze into the sea-filled horizon without the same feeling coming over me. This mystery I behold reminds me of You. The sea, like you, is so very immense, so grand, so boundless. It fills me with joy as well as peace and tranquility - a bit like You do. But so do am I touched by a twinge of apprehension, even fear, for before such majesty I sense my own frailty and weakness, not to mention my small stature in the grand scheme of things. What am I next to such grandeur? What am I in the midst of the swelling, surging deep that day and night speaks one word to the rocky shore? Your Word, like the ceaseless waves, laps against the hard hearts of men over and over again until they cannot ignore Your presence any longer. You never give up, no matter how much I fortify the stony wall I've built to hold You back. You never leave me, never draw back or retreat to some far away land. No, Lord. You who contain so much power and might come most often in the soft and gentle caress of a summer tide. I pray You will open my heart to receive You into every corner of my being. Wash over and through me, Father, and may I never again be dry. Amen.

"The Last Things" pt. 2

"Come to me, all who labor and are heavy
laden, and I will give you rest" - Mt. 11:28

As I mentioned last week citing von Balthasar's observations on the matter, Christ himself is the "eschata" - the "last things" of the creature. He comes from the Eternal Father as a man, in time at a particular moment of human history. But he does not emerge from within it as we do. He comes in from the outside. God becomes part of His own creation. How often do any of us believers actually sit back and think about how incredible that is?

This God-Man then transforms everything we experience as human beings by mysteriously incorporating it all into himself: birth, growing up, learning, suffering, friendship, work, eating, sleeping, even death. There is no longer any corner of the human condition with which God, in the Person of Christ, is not intimately familiar. He is everywhere we are and he calls to us with love, encouragement, and grace around every turn.

But God respects our freedom implicitly, far more than we respect it or anyone else's! He, unlike us, will not (cannot) ever force or coerce anyone to choose the good. He is love itself, and real love is never forced. And so, the "final destination" is entirely tied to one's relation to Christ. If I choose him, it is called heaven. If I reject him, that is called hell. If I still have baggage which must be left at his door before going inside, it is called "purgatory", the process of abandoning every last obstacle. And as he gazes deeply into my very being, I cannot hide who I am, who I have made myself to be in life. That is what "judgement" truly is.

These "Four Last Things" are not distinct categories or separate experiences. They are my ultimate encounter with God, who is Reality Himself!

The Sea

"So God created the great sea monsters and every living creature that moves, with which the waters swarm, according to their kinds, and every winged bird according to its kind. And God saw that it was good."

- Genesis 1:21

"The Last Things"

In traditional Catholic teaching, the "Last Things" refers to the topics of death, judgment, hell, and heaven, the so called "four last things to be ever remembered" as Muriel Spark puts it in her book Memento Mori. The study of these last things constitutes the theological enterprise called "eschatology" from the Greek "eschaton" which, essentially, means finality, end, outcome, uttermost.

These four final realities are held by the Church to be utterly inescapable when it comes to the human experience (though the Church of course affirms that hell is not "inescapable" in so far as Christ's offer of salvation is concerned). At the end of the day, we can avoid these subjects as much as we want, we can fabricate the most creative alternatives to them but, in the end, we all die, we face judgement, and we are ultimately transported to one of two very real states - heaven or hell.

It has grown increasingly popular to label everything I've just written as absolutely, ridiculously absurd - a holdover from the Middle Ages. To actually believe anything I've mentioned so far is nothing more than foolish, arcane, superstitious nonsense. Even many of our brothers and sisters in the Church, some in positions of leadership and influence, would cast all of this out the window at the first chance if they could. But I would simply point out that Jesus Christ never surrendered himself to the prison of popularity. The Christian faith is not, has never been, nor ever will it be a faith defined by how "with the times" it is. The Church utterly transcends time and the often bullying influences Pope Saint John Paul II referred to as "passing fads."

It's true that most of the agitation that seems to crop up whenever one makes mention of death, judgement, hell, or heaven may very well be ascribed to outdated and imperfect traditional ways of describing our ultimate end. One can't help but immediately conjure up images of hell being filled with little red devils with pointy tails poking at a person for all eternity with their pitchforks while flames mercilessly lick the room. Heaven is commonly painted as a vast, endless realm of clouds atop which fat little angels and boring people pluck at harps to no end. Trust me, I get it! I mean if the first one is remotely true, how could a good God bear even one of his supposedly beloved creatures ending up there forever? If the second one is true, why in the world would ANYONE ever want to end up there? That kind of heaven is the sort of thing I would probably try and think of when I'm desperately trying to fall asleep!

The truth revealed by Christ and passed down through his Church is far more incredible, far more profound and meaningful than these often quaint pictures we've come to know. I will be making a couple of posts relating to the Last Things over the next few weeks but for now, I think I'll just let the inimitable Swiss theologian Hans Urs von Balthasar lay it out:

God is the “last thing” of the creature. Gained, he is heaven; lost, he is hell; examining, he is judgment; purifying, he is purgatory. He it is to whom finite being dies, and through whom it rises to him, in him. This he is, however, as he presents himself to the world, that is, in his Son, Jesus Christ, who is the revelation of God and, therefore, the whole essence of the last things.

Permanence?

After almost a solid month of Army training followed by some readjustment, I realized how much I've missed this blog so I decided to share a little reflection that hit me last night in prayer.

I'd wager that there is not a person on this earth - past, present, or future - who does not know the bitter taste of anxiety or even fear when change is in the air. We all know what it can feel like when our circumstances are altered. And even when it's for the better, the shadow of fear can make its presence known.

Why is this so? Are we hard-wired to assume that most if not all changes spell discomfort or hardship of some sort? Why can news of a new job or a move or even a baby on the way conjure up both elation and panic?

I suspect that this is all evidence of our deep desire for permanence. It's strange when you think about it. Every person on earth is seemingly incapable of being satisfied, no matter the circumstances - at least not in this life. There is never enough money, enough titles, enough achievements. There is always a deficit of friends, experiences, conversations, encounters. We never seem to scratch the surface of our desires for ultimate purpose, meaning, true and abiding love.

We are like beings who exist for eternal joy and fulfillment, and yet we are each stretched out across a lifetime of transition and change. We are like spiritual nomads who, no matter how much we try to ignore or alter the truth, are never truly at home during our sojourn on earth.

In the end, that void can only be filled by the One who put it there in the first place. God made every single one of us for Himself, and that empty restlessness we all experience is not proof of meaningless pain and endless suffering ahead. It is in fact a gift from the hand of God. It's there so that we'll pay attention to it and in the midst of the darkness we'll find the Risen Lord who so deeply desires to bring us to what Father Robert Barron has dubbed, "a higher pitch of existence."

So let's try to set fear and anxiety aside today! Ask the Lord to help you see him in every corner of your day - He won't let you down.

Easter Sunday

Disciples John and Peter on the Way to the Tomb (Burnand)

The morning of the third day has brought something utterly incredible, unthinkable, even impossible. Mary Magdalene has returned in haste from the tomb with shocking news - she claims that Jesus, lifeless and entombed since Friday afternoon, HAS RISEN FROM THE DEAD!

Peter and John race towards the tomb. John, the only one of the Twelve who followed Christ to the cross itself. John who watched Jesus die the most agonizing of all deaths. John who knew better than the others that there was no doubt - their beloved Master was truly dead.

Peter, the chief of the apostles. The man who had walked on the tempestuous sea toward Christ. The one whom Jesus had renamed "Rock" and to whom he had promised the keys of the kingdom - the new steward of the royal household who had authority to bind and loose (see Isaiah 22:15-24). Peter who had, in terrible fear, rejected the Lord three times. Peter, to whom Christ had said: "Simon, Simon, behold Satan has demanded to sift all of you like wheat, but I have prayed that your own faith may not fail; and once you have turned back, you must strengthen your brothers” (Luke 22:31-32).

And so they run. John, the younger of the two, runs faster. Peter runs as best he can. John, filled with anticipation: "Could it really be? Please, O Father, let it be so!" Peter, filled with hope but also a deep and painful shame: "Please, Master, please... Please forgive me!"

They finally arrive. John waits for Peter, acknowledging his primacy. Peter enters first. The tomb is empty. The Lord's wrappings lie there, the cloth that had covered his face in another part of the tomb, folded. What grave robbers would have taken time to unwrap his body? What is going on here?

They return with more questions than answers. Little do they realize that he will soon come to them in the very room where they had last eaten with him, and things will never be the same - for them and for the whole human race.

Holy Saturday (an Ancient Homily)

I posted this selection from today's "Office of Readings" last year and I can't think of a better reflection on Christ's descent to the dead so here it is again!

Second reading

From an ancient homily on Holy Saturday

The Lord descends to the dead

Something strange is happening—there is a great silence on earth today, a great silence and stillness. The whole earth keeps silence because the King is asleep. The earth trembled and is still because God has fallen asleep in the flesh and he has raised up all who have slept ever since the world began. God has died in the flesh and hell trembles with fear.

He has gone to search for our first parent, as for a lost sheep. Greatly desiring to visit those who live in darkness and in the shadow of death, he has gone to free from sorrow the captives Adam and Eve, he who is both God and the son of Eve. The Lord approached them bearing the cross, the weapon that had won him the victory. At the sight of him Adam, the first man he had created, struck his breast in terror and cried out to everyone: “My Lord be with you all.” Christ answered him: “And with your spirit.” He took him by the hand and raised him up, saying: “Awake, O sleeper, and rise from the dead, and Christ will give you light.”

I am your God, who for your sake have become your son. Out of love for you and for your descendants I now by my own authority command all who are held in bondage to come forth, all who are in darkness to be enlightened, all who are sleeping to arise. I order you, O sleeper, to awake. I did not create you to be held a prisoner in hell. Rise from the dead, for I am the life of the dead. Rise up, work of my hands, you who were created in my image. Rise, let us leave this place, for you are in me and I am in you; together we form only one person and we cannot be separated.

For your sake I, your God, became your son; I, the Lord, took the form of a slave; I, whose home is above the heavens, descended to the earth and beneath the earth. For your sake, for the sake of man, I became like a man without help, free among the dead. For the sake of you, who left a garden, I was betrayed to the Judeans in a garden, and I was crucified in a garden.

See on my face the spittle I received in order to restore to you the life I once breathed into you. See there the marks of the blows I received in order to refashion your warped nature in my image. On my back see the marks of the scourging I endured to remove the burden of sin that weighs upon your back. See my hands, nailed firmly to a tree, for you who once wickedly stretched out your hand to a tree.

I slept on the cross and a sword pierced my side for you who slept in paradise and brought forth Eve from your side. My side has healed the pain in yours. My sleep will rouse you from your sleep in hell. The sword that pierced me has sheathed the sword that was turned against you.

Rise, let us leave this place. The enemy led you out of the earthly paradise. I will not restore you to that paradise, but I will enthrone you in heaven. I forbade you the tree that was only a symbol of life, but see, I who am life itself am now one with you. I appointed cherubim to guard you as slaves are guarded, but now I make them worship you as God. The throne formed by cherubim awaits you, its bearers swift and eager. The bridal chamber is adorned, the banquet is ready, the eternal dwelling places are prepared, the treasure houses of all good things lie open. The kingdom of heaven has been prepared for you from all eternity.

RESPONSORY

Our shepherd, the source of the water of life, has died. The sun was darkened when he passed away. But now man’s captor is made captive.
– This is the day when our Savior broke through the gates of death.

He has destroyed the barricades of hell, overthrown the sovereignty of the devil.
– This is the day when our Savior broke through the gates of death.

CONCLUDING PRAYER
All-powerful and ever-living God,
your only Son went down among the dead
and rose again in glory.
In your goodness
raise up your faithful people,
buried with him in baptism,
to be one with him
in the eternal life of heaven,
where he lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,
one God, for ever and ever.
– Amen.