On the fifth Sunday, when the resurrection of Lazarus is proclaimed, we are faced with the ultimate mystery of our existence: “I am the resurrection and the life… Do you believe this?” (Jn 11: 25-26). For the Christian community, it is the moment to place with sincerity – together with Martha – all of our hopes in Jesus of Nazareth: “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, the one who was to come into this world” (Jn 11: 27). Communion with Christ in this life prepares us to overcome the barrier of death, so that we may live eternally with him. Faith in the resurrection of the dead and hope in eternal life open our eyes to the ultimate meaning of our existence: God created men and women for resurrection and life, and this truth gives an authentic and definitive meaning to human history, to the personal and social lives of men and women, to culture, politics and the economy. Without the light of faith, the entire universe finishes shut within a tomb devoid of any future, any hope.

There are a lot of important themes in this brief synopsis that Benedict utilizes in much of his theology: belief, hope, and faith and the future. For Benedict, let it suffice to say that man’s belief in Christ changes absolutely everything. Belief in Christ, in the Triune God of Love Who is the definitive source of our being, is an orientation of existence that faces truth, meaning, purposeful direction. Such a belief gives the subject a great and saving hope: that the future is not void, that there is Someone who embraces the entirety of human existence and the whole cosmos so that creation may, together with Christ, be brought into that Triune exchange of divine life and love. God answers the mystery of death, and He does with His own through which death becomes life: “Dying You destroyed our death.” So human history is salvation history, and not just that but a specifically romantic story, too. God is akin to a hopeless lover: He is so positive about and faithful to each one of us. One can think of the great epic poem, Evangeline by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. God refuses to give up on us and does everything to find us, and when He does, how great will be the divine kiss of His Son as He sends us in the Spirit to love  and praise the Father.

Without an authentic belief that is rooted in such a powerful love story, human culture is void. I think that this is what Benedict suggests. It is void because without God, without Him who is superabundantly excessive, there is no place for otherness. Culture becomes an abyss for the Ego. And at that point, the Ego reflexively enfolds upon itself and, in my opinion, dies. The human person exists within a realm where otherness is critical for growth. I need you. It is not enough to suffice within my own self-reflexive ego. What I need is another: someone else so that my ego can unfold (not enfold!) and experience the created world created by the all-good Creator God.

Jesus Christ is the purest example of the other. He, the Incarnate Word, is the unfolded reality of the triune current of divine life, and He opens Himself up–physically–on the Cross, for others, becoming a cocoon for human ascent. He opens Himself up so that there is a haven for each of us, a locus, so to speak, of divine food which is nothing other than the divine Son’s human flesh. He calls us to Himself, the cocoon in Whom man may hatch into the divine life of God.

“Do you believe this?” He asks each of us. For Benedict, the answer to this question can never be a mere proposition: I believe that x, y, z. On the contrary, man’s “yes” is an existential credo: I believe, and in this belief am willing to lose my ego so that I become transparent–that the Other in whom I believe may shine. I believe, and in this belief open myself up so that I become one of yours. I believe, and in this belief hand over to you everything that constitutes me, so that when others encounter me, grant Lord, that they may see you, hear you, touch you, smell you, taste you. I believe, and in this belief I humbly and undeservedly ask to be taken into Thy wounds of your Son, so that through Him I may be taken into You. I believe, Lord, and in this belief I trust in you and in you alone. Belief constitutes the struggle to turn away from everything and face God alone.

Belief in the God of Jesus Christ is communion. “Communion with Christ in this life prepares us to overcome the barrier of death, so that we may live eternally with him.” An authentic Christian belief is totally relational. I cannot believe by myself. I need God, and that implies that everything through which God operates is important to me because it all manifests some sort of theophany: creation is not unlike a sacramental sign of God. The believer only turns away from everything so she can more properly experience the reality of everything. I am missing something elemental in every experience if I am living without God.

Lastly, just as Christ awoke Lazarus from the grave, so God calls every human person of the tomb of one’s ego-realm: another form of a grave–specifically one which has no future, but is void of life itself. On the contrary to that grave, God takes us to a Cross that points toward Heaven. It is the sign of ultimate meaning, ultimate value, ultimate reality: that God loves us, each one of us infinitely more than the next one, and in that love invites us into Himself to experience life and love.

The question that Jesus puts to the Samaritan woman: “Give me a drink” (Jn 4: 7), is presented to us in the liturgy of the third Sunday; it expresses the passion of God for every man and woman, and wishes to awaken in our hearts the desire for the gift of “a spring of water within, welling up for eternal life” (Jn 4: 14): this is the gift of the Holy Spirit, who transforms Christians into “true worshipers,” capable of praying to the Father “in spirit and truth” (Jn 4: 23). Only this water can extinguish our thirst for goodness, truth and beauty! Only this water, given to us by the Son, can irrigate the deserts of our restless and unsatisfied soul, until it “finds rest in God”, as per the famous words of St. Augustine.

My favorite part of this interpretation is found in the ending, when the Holy Father tells that it is the Holy Spirit alone who can “irrigate the deserts of our restless and unsatisfied soul”. The human person is thirsty. Without a doubt, there is some sort of primeval emptiness in the human heart, a perennial search for completeness. What can satisfy the heart, the core of man?

For Benedict, and this is the response of the Christian story too, it is only from above. God has a passion for each of us. He is radically in love with every single person He’s created. (I sometimes wonder how different we would treat one another if we really took into account God’s infinite love for each person.) The Holy Father sees in this Gospel “the passion of God for every man and woman”. His passion, genuinely articulated in the Passion of His Son, is the true nutrition for humans. The Incarnate Word is the true pinnacle of creation: He is savior through and through.

Moreover, Jesus, in today’s Gospel, says: “My food is to do the will of the one who sent me and to finish his work” (Jn 4:34). For Christ, the element that sustains him, procures his daily energy, is praise. After all, to praise is to accept and follow the Lord’s commands and life. What is so human and beautiful about this theology is that it is so innate to every person: we are living the best kind of life, the most satisfying life, when it is a life that is praise to the Father. Man’s ontology is most in tune with itself when it becomes a theological ontology: anthropology is naturally oriented toward Theos. This Gospel reading, in addition then, may have a cryptic liturgical element to it. That the liturgy, especially the celebration of the Eucharist, is the “source and summit of the faith” is no small doctrinal statement: if it is true, then it seems that the liturgy is the most human of cultures–our life can parallel the reverence and praise within the liturgical sphere, and when it does, one experiences the irrigation of divine love. An oasis of “goodness, truth and beauty” is implanted within the human experience. This temporal life becomes a penultimate experience of the ultimate experience that is the eternal presence and love of the Holy One.

Reflecting such thus far, is it any wonder that the Pope interprets this Gospel passage as an invitation through the Holy Spirit for Christians to be “true worshipers”? That is what the whole story is about. Am I worshiping God? To be a true worshiper entails a complete abandonment of the self in the hands of others, specifically the Divine Other. To be a true worshiper entails, accordingly, an attitude of indifference: that we are, at a foundational human level, indifferent such that we place no limits on the Divine voice. To be a true worshiper entails, at its core, radical love. To be a true worshiper requires the spiritual transformation of the Holy Spirit, offered to us by the Son, the eternal exemplar of mankind.

Let us pray to faithfully drink from the water of God, that water of divine life manifested to us by Jesus Christ through whom the human person, as if in the womb of God, by grace is nurtured until one day, in salvific hope, he may hatch into the very divine life of God Himself, and so offer the King humble and eternal praise in the company of His angels and His saints: Praise be to God, the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit!

The Gospel of the Transfiguration of the Lord puts before our eyes the glory of Christ, which anticipates the resurrection and announces the divinization of man. The Christian community becomes aware that Jesus leads it, like the Apostles Peter, James and John “up a high mountain by themselves” (Mt 17:1), to receive once again in Christ, as sons and daughters in the Son, the gift of the grace of God: “This is my Son, the Beloved; he enjoys my favor. Listen to him” (Mt 17:5). It is the invitation to take a distance from the noisiness of everyday life in order to immerse oneself in God’s presence. He desires to hand down to us, each day, a Word that penetrates the depths of our spirit, where we discern good from evil (cf. Heb 4:12), reinforcing our will to follow the Lord.

This first part of this synopsis is an invitation into the great Christian mystery the Eastern Churches particularly honor: theosis. Or, as Benedict here terms it: “divinization”. In other words, it is becoming god—growing into the divine. The Holy Father tells us that it is Christ who leads us upward to the mountain of God. Here, in the presence of God is the true human exodus: a passing over from the Ego to the Theos—from the self into the Creator. This passage is a Christological mystery because Jesus Christ is the locus of the journey. It is no wonder that the divine voice of the Father declares: “Listen to him”. Christ is the measure of human fulfillment. There is no other. He is the Incarnate Word—the incarnate language of the divine—who re-communicates the Father to creation and who breathes the Spirit that animates.  Moreover, as the locus of the exodus into God, when one thereby journeys into God through the Mediator Dei—Christ—he, too, becomes a son in the Son. The Incarnate Words opens up filial relationship to God: love, intimacy, passion, trust, and hope.

His Holiness sees in this Gospel, also, the precursor to this theosis-exodus. He parallels this invitation with the invitation to “take a distance form the noisiness of everyday life”—in other words, to walk up into the mountains, the place of silent heights; countless beauties; and ineffable, infinite sights. If one is continuously clothed by the temporal order, by the worries of everyday life, or by affairs that do not reflect the divine rule, then there is essentially no possibility for an exodus. How can one pass-over without passing over? How can one communicate with the Lord without going to speak with and listen to Him? How can one become divine if his make-up is only the visible and temporal? There is no theosis without an authentic exodus of the self. That is why Benedict declares the importance “to immerse oneself in God’s presence”. Not the presence of the self; not the presence of society; not the presence of others. First the presence of God, and then all else unfolds according to His divinity and will. Certainly the life of the saints, and especially the Virgin Mother of God, attest to this.

In the last part of this Gospel synopsis, the Holy Father concludes beautifully, as we have already read: “He desires to hand down to us, each day, a Word that penetrates the depths of our spirit, where we discern good from evil (cf. Heb 4:12), reinforcing our will to follow the Lord.” It seems to me that there is a reference to Genesis here. Without the Lord, the human person is chaotic: impoverished, man is in need of divine order and love.

Is this not the state of the universe in the first creation story? “In the beginning, when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless wasteland, and darkness covered the abyss” (Gen 1:1, emphasis mine). How does God counteract this chaos? He speaks. In the beginning, it is the Word of God communicated that brings peace: “Then God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light. God saw how good the light was” (Gen 1:3-4). The Word is the divine person who secures and establishes order.

Consequently, after sin and separation, the human person herself becomes a wasteland, in need of God’s voice to hold her together. And so the Divine Lover sends to the beloved His Son, who “penetrates the depths of our spirit”, granting us true power to discern the good from evil—contrary to Satan’s apple of temptation. It is the Word to whom we primordially belong, to whom our hearts beg to be touched and embraced by. It is the Word who is man’s ultimate and definitive source of well-being, nutrition and happiness—indeed the source of the heart’s very beat itself. He is the true rhythm of life: the beat that sets everything in proper relationship and order, and out of chaos establishes harmony.

To end, I am reminded of the words of  the Great Apostle: “He is before all things, and in him all things hold together” (Col 1:17).  The Word is “before all things”—He is the eternal exemplar. And Incarnate, He holds all things together—He recapitulates history and creation, thus to procure salvation: “in order to kill sin, to destroy death, and to give life to man”, as St. Irenaeus writes.

Let us pray for the grace that we may all follow Christ Jesus into God.

The Holy Father begins with an invitation to the Church: to intensify her journey in purifying the spirit, “so as to draw more abundantly from the Mystery of Redemption the new life in Christ the Lord”. Through this invitation, Benedict introduces Baptism, explaining that this life “was already bestowed upon us on the day of our Baptism, when we ‘become sharers in Christ’s death and Resurrection’, and there began for us ‘the joyful and exulting adventure of his disciples’”. After quoting from the writings of Paul, the Holy Father comes to a beautiful conclusion:

Hence, Baptism is not a rite from the past, but the encounter with Christ, which informs the entire existence of the baptized, imparting divine life and calling for sincere conversion; initiated and supported by Grace, it permits the baptized to reach the adult stature of Christ. (emphasis mine)

When we are baptized, we are thrown into the being of the Son, who is the “abundant life”. Therefore, the most authentic life of the “I” is never self-constructed. On the contrary, the self is most pure and mature when it is formed by the existence of the Divine Other. To separate the “self” from the Son is an ontological error that will indubitably lead to self-frustration.

But why does the Holy Father parallel Baptism with Lent? Because: “A particular connection binds Baptism to Lent as the favorable time to experience this saving Grace…[T]he Church has always associated the Easter Vigil with the celebration of Baptism: this Sacrament realizes the great mystery in which man dies to sin, is made a sharer in the new life of the Risen Christ and receives the same Spirit of God who raised Jesus from the dead (cf. Rm 8:11).” Benedict explains that this gift of grace must always be “rekindled in each one of us, and Lent offers us a path”.

Lent is a holy time to reintegrate one’s life with the life of Christ–to fast with Him, give with Him, and pray with Him. The love of God is infinite and how passionately He wants to hold each of us in palm of His hands, which “formed man out of the clay of the ground” (Gen 2:7). From Him our lives were molded: into Him the heart eagerly desires to ascend. And so He became one of us. How beautiful the story of God’s infinite love for His beloved creation!

At this moment, the Holy Father turns to the Gospel readings of Lent: “In order to undertake more seriously our journey towards Easter and prepare ourselves to celebrate the Resurrection of the Lord…what could be more appropriate than allowing ourselves to be guided by the Word of God?” (emphasis mine)

In a couple of days, the Church will celebrate the First Sunday of Lent, during which the Gospel

reveals our condition as human beings here on earth. The victorious battle against temptation, the starting point of Jesus’ mission, is an invitation to become aware of our fragility in order to accept the Grace that frees from sin and infuses new strength in Christ–the way, the truth and the life. It is a powerful reminder that Christian faith implies, following the example of Jesus and in union with him, a battle “against the ruling forces who are masters of the darkness in this world” (Eph 6:12), in which the devil is at work and never tires–even today–of tempting whoever wishes to draw close to the Lord: Christ emerges victorious to open also our hearts to hope and guide us in overcoming the seductions of evil. (emphasis mine)

Benedict XVI articulates here the human condition: poverty. The human person is fragile, and ontologically in need of grace. Without Christ, there is no way for man to walk, no truth to embrace, and no life to experience. Any ideology without Christ, without the God of Love, is void of fulfillment or authentic meaning because it fails to truly accept the human heart in her condition of poverty. But with Christ, divine greatness offers itself to humanity. That is why Benedict stresses that to be Christian, one must follow Christ and be in union with Him. Most important, above all else the Christian is to conform oneself with Christ–be a son in the Son–who is the Incarnate Word of God: the very center of the Triune Divinity. In Him, does man taste the infinite good and beauty of God’s life, the supreme end of human hunger. Man’s poverty is redeemed by the Triune God’s divine excess of life and love.

Lastly, His Holiness exhibits a theme of “victory” in this synopsis of the Gospel. Christ is victorious and that is a cause for joy. He is the the shepherd who “feeds his flock…gathers the lambs… [in his arms, and] carrying them in his bosom…[he leads] the ewes with care” (Is 40:11). He is our hope. When, in every direction, temptation pulls human hearts away from their God, may all remember Jesus Christ, who has emerged victorious and is always willing and wanting to “open also our hearts to hope and guide us in overcoming the seductions of evil”. Followers of a victorious king, may we, His humble subjects, serve Him with joy, zeal and unbroken fidelity. There is something so much greater than sin, and it is Love. That alone is credible, satisfying, and infinite: all else trembles at His feet.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

I love the season of Lent. It is the perfect time to get one’s life in order. It is the perfect season to reflect upon our relationship with God in an even deeper way than usual. We have many disciplines to help us, especially the practices of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. To be clear, it is important that we pray at all times and in all seasons, not just in Lent. Likewise, it is good for us to fast and habitually practice small mortifications, small penances, small acts of loving reparation, throughout our lives even outside of Lent (and outside of Fridays throughout the year). And, it’s never a bad time to give alms; “now” is always the perfect time. But in Lent, the Church lays a special emphasis on these practices to help us through our desert journey. In Lent, we travel with Jesus (and with all of the saints who have gone before us) into the wilderness, toward the joy which Easter brings.

And so, we begin our Lenten pilgrimage. My prayer is that we exit Lent changed people; that when Easter comes, we will be more closely united to Christ than ever before. If you haven’t read it yet, I would highly recommend prayerfully reading over Pope Benedict XVI’s Message for Lent this 2011. It is a moving letter, with many insights so beautifully written. The text may be accessed online at the Vatican website, here: http://www.vatican.va/holy_father/benedict_xvi/messages/lent/documents/hf_ben-xvi_mes_20101104_lent-2011_en.html.

Three other things I would like to emphasize for your consideration this Lent:

(1) Go on a retreat. I think it is a good practice to go on a retreat once a year, and Lent is a perfect season for a retreat.

(2) Meditate deeply on Scripture. If Scripture reading is not a regular practice in your life, then there is no better time to start than now. Why don’t you make a Lenten resolution to spend just 5 minutes a day prayerfully immersing yourself in Scripture. I’d recommend taking up one of the Gospels. I have always been fond of the method recommended by St. Josemaría Escrivá: “If you wish to get close to our Lord through the pages of the Gospels, I always recommend that you try to enter in on the scene, taking part as just one more person there.”¹

(3) read a book for spiritual reading, perhaps only a few minutes (5 or 10) a day. A great one, if you haven’t already read it, is Scott Hahn’s Signs of Life: 40 Catholic Customs and their Biblical Roots, available on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Signs-Life-Catholic-Customs-Biblical/dp/0385519494/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1299642080&sr=1-1.

1. St. Josemaría Escrivá, “The Strength of Love” (homily given 8 June 1968), in Friends of God, 227-241 (Princeton: Scepter, 2002 [1977]), 227.

Wired with Sound

The average college-aged male spends between 4 and 14 hours a day in electronic media.  If you add-in sleep, our time for work, and personal interactions, there’s not much time for anything else.

I often find myself having to really focus on paying attention to people in everyday surroundings; avoiding the temptation to multi-task while I’m around others.

Entering Into the Silence: Reflection

The silence of the church is so different than the constant sensation we find outside.

Coming from such a sound and media-saturated environment, it’s hard to get settled into the silence.  Why do we find it so difficult?

Silence offers us the opportunity to be alone with ourselves, which is sometimes difficult on a college campus with roommates, classrooms, lounges, cafeterias, and football games.  When we’re not being bombarded with media, the silence affords the chance to reflect on what we’ve done, who we are, what we’re going to do.  Reflection helps us to know ourselves.  But, reflection only gets us so far.  It is primarily in relationship that we discover who we are.

From Reflection to Prayer: Silence with a Purpose

Reflection moves from self-evaluation into personal prayer when we place ourselves before the Lord who is always present.  “In this silence, unbearable to the ‘outer’ man, the Father speaks to us his incarnate Word” (CCC 2717).  God is everywhere, but the parish church is a privileged place for this encounter because Jesus is personally present in the Blessed Sacrament of the Eucharist, whole and entire: His body, blood, soul, and divinity.  God is present…personally present!

How To: Silent Personal Prayer

First, place yourself in the presence of God: “Lord, I know that you’re here, I know that you’re present, I know that you see me, that you hear me, that you love me.  I adore you profoundly.”  Or…more simply: “Okay, Lord, here I am.”

Second, thank God for who He is and what he’s done in your life.  What are you thankful for today, this week?  Thank Him for creating you; for sending His Son Jesus; for setting us free from sin.

Awkward Silence

Silence can be awkward.  But so can conversation.  Awkward silences are okay with God.  A “respectful silence in the presence of the ‘ever greater’ God” is good (CCC 2628).  Even my best friends are frequently those with whom silence isn’t awkward.  It’s okay to just be in the silence with God.  One who prays is never alone.

Summer Time, Biblical Time, and Church Renovations, Oh My!

Summer goes by so quickly. It’s amazing to think that football will be starting soon, and for many school will be restarting! It’s a comfort to know that biblical time is somewhat different than these passing days of summer.

Biblical time stands out from the way other cultures understood time. This is contrasted with the ancient pagan idea that the cosmos was eternal and time was something cyclical, without beginning or end, doomed to repeat without end. It sounds strange and simplistic to say, but biblical time has a beginning and an end to it. Yet, it’s not so dull as all that.

St. Augustine said that he knew what time was until someone asked him what it was. Though there’s so much more to biblical time, I thought it would be beautiful to contemplate an aspect of it.

There and Back Again – an Architectural / Liturgical Journey

When the Israelites celebrated the Feast of Passover, as they recalled God’s mighty works (anamnesis), they were brought into contact with the events themselves. So, it was not simply to those who walked out of Egypt that God saved. Those celebrating the feast thousands of years later can say, “‘By strength of hand the LORD brought us out of Egypt, from the house of bondage’” (Ex 13:14). By doing the events again, they are remembered (anamnesis) and thus made present: “every time Passover is celebrated, the Exodus events are made present to the memory of believers so that they may conform their lives to them” (CCC 1363).

So it is when we celebrate the sacraments. St. Paul speaks of this mystery of biblical time with regards to baptism: “Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death” (Rom 6:3-4). How can we be baptized into Jesus’ death when it was so long ago? In the sacraments, Jesus brings us into contact with the mysteries of His saving work for us: we are drawn into His Life.

But it’s not simply some retrospective visit to points in Jesus’ past life, like Ebenezer Scrooge or something. Though we certainly touch the events of Jesus’ life, we are also brought forward in time to the future glory He is bringing! As St. Paul says, “We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, so that as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life” (Rom 6:4). We are brought forward to the resurrected life of the glory that is to come!

Eucharistic Reverse and Fast Forward

This Old Testament idea of remembering (anamnesis) is renewed in the New Testament in Jesus’ central action, His Last Supper and Crucifixion. “When the Church celebrates the Eucharist, she commemorates Christ’s Passover, and it is made present: the sacrifice Christ offered once for all on the cross remains ever present” (CCC 1364).

It is in some sense a rewinding of history: “In the Eucharist the Church is as it were at the foot of the cross with Mary, united with the offering and intercession of Christ” (CCC 1370). But the amazing wonder of that reality isn’t all that’s happening: it’s not some mystical rewinding of something we’ve TiVo’d. It also fast forwards us to the eternal glory of the new creation that Jesus came to inaugurate. Indeed, it puts us in contact with those already enjoying the heavenly glory: “To the offering of Christ are united not only the members still here on earth, but also those already in the glory of heaven” (CCC 1370).

Church Building as Vision of Past and Future Glory

It is to this reality of the Sacraments that the church building bears witness: it is the past triumph catching up with us and the future glory coming to meet us ahead of time. Indeed “This earthly church made of stones and steel, then, makes visible the dwelling of God reconciled with men, the glorious city where the decay and death resulting from the Fall are fully transfigured into the radiance of God’s divine life. [The church] becomes an image of the heavenly realities and therefore ‘is’ heaven itself in sacramental terms” (McNamara, Catholic, 40).

Pope Pius X writes, in his Motu Propio Tra Le Sollecitudini promulgated in 1903, that

[Gregorian Chant is] the Chant proper to the Roman Church, the only chant she has inherited from the ancient fathers, which she has jealously guarded for centuries in her liturgical codices, which she directly proposes to the faithful as her own, which she prescribes exclusively for some parts of the liturgy, and which the most recent studies have so happily restored to their integrity and purity.

On these grounds Gregorian Chant has always been regarded as the supreme model for sacred music, so that it is fully legitimate to lay down the following rule: the more closely a composition for church approaches in its movement, inspiration and savour the Gregorian form, the more sacred and liturgical it becomes; and the more out of harmony it is with that supreme model, the less worthy it is of the temple. [2]

Later, in 1955, Pope Pius XII wrote an encyclical, Musicae Sacrae, which delivered a similar ethos. For-instance, the Bishop explains that sacred music must be “holy”. He then declares that “Gregorian chant…is gloriously outstanding for this holiness”. [3]

At this point, it is most likely that one will point out that these quotes thus far are “pre” Vatican II. However, I think that kind of language is not very Catholic, to be completely honest. As a Catholic, we believe that the Church is one. There are never “pre” and “post” churches. Certainly, every council represents a visible moment in Church history that signifies some sort of renewal, message, etc. However, the Church is the Church, and it is imperative, when we consider matters of the Church–including theological, liturgical, and historical–that we dialogue using a hermeneutic of continuity [4].

Furthermore, I think that a reading of some of the documents from Vatican II will prove this continuity of Gregorian chant as the preferred and suggested musical choice. In the Council’s Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy, the text states: “The Church acknowledges Gregorian chant as specially suited to the Roman Liturgy: therefore, other things being equal, it should be given pride of place in liturgical services” [5]. Vatican II agrees with past teaching and continues to declare the official music of the Roman Church’s Liturgy: Gregorian chant.

At this point, I simply want to offer a few more quotes that uphold Vatican II’s teaching:

From Musicam Sacram: “According to the Constitution on the Liturgy, “the use of the Latin language, with due respect to particular law, is to be preserved in the Latin rites” [6]. Note that this is referencing a Vatican II document. Contrary to popular belief, Vatican II was a Latin Church council–and Latin in the full meaning of the word. Not only were all of its documents promulgated in Latin, but it also upholds the use of Latin the Roman Church.

In a Letter to the Bishops on the Minimum Repertoire of Plainchant, the Sacred Congregation for Divine Worship suggests that “all the faithful should know at least some Latin Gregorian chants, such as, for example, the ‘Gloria’, the ‘Credo’, the ‘Sanctus’, and the ‘Agnus Dei’” [7].

From the General Instruction on the Roman Missal (2002): “All other things being equal, Gregorian chant holds pride of place because it is proper to the Roman Liturgy. Other types of sacred music, in particular polyphony, are in no way excluded, provided that they correspond to the spirit of the liturgical action and that they foster the participation of all the faithful” [8].

I might also add that a simple look to the Church in Rome, at the Bishop of Rome’s writings and celebrations: it is clear that His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI respects these teachings, specifically, the primacy of chant and the use of Latin.

Might I end with a great quote from John Miller, C.S.C. Exploring the nature and definition of the Liturgy, he concludes:

[T]he liturgy is the public (in the sense of being done by and for the whole Mystical Body) worship of the Mystical Body in the entirety of its Head and members, worship which is Christ’s prayer and action, effecting a holy exchange of God’s life and human homage…worship which is concretized in the Mass, the sacraments, the divine office, and the sacramentals; worship, finally, which inserts the members of Christ into the heavenly current of adoration, propitiation, thanksgiving, and petition carried on by our glorified Redeemer before the throne of the Father for all eternity. [9]

How miraculous and great a reality, that the Mass–the culmination of liturgical and sacramental life–most authentically and powerfully “inserts the members of Christ into the heavenly current” of praise. How diligently, then, must we seek in truth to celebrate properly the Liturgy. May we continue to be nourished in the life of grace by the gift of the Eucharist. May we continue to grow in unity with Christ, the Son, so that in Him through the grace of the Spirit we may come to contemplate and love more perfectly the Most High and Sacred Lover, the Father of the Triune Divinity. Truly, may our soul soar the heavens in God’s presence as a singing bird soars through the clouds of this earthly realm. May we join with the Communion of Saints in the Heavenly Liturgy and praise the Loving Creator.

——–

[1] Miller, John. “The Nature and Definition of the Liturgy.” Theological Studies. 18.3 1957: 339

[2] Paragraph 3. Click here for the full text.

[3] Paragraph 42. Click here for the full text. See also Tra le Sollecitudini, n. 2.

[4] cf. Address of His Holiness Benedict XVI to the Roman Curia Offering Them His Christmas Greetings, 22 Dec 2005. In this address, Benedict specifically introduces a hermeneutic of continuity or renewal, explaining that we cannot interpret Vatican II by itself without the rich history and organic developments of the Church beginning with the Apostles and ancient Fathers. Well worth a read: Click here for the full text.

[5] Paragraph 5 of Sacrosanctum Concilium: Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy Second Vatican Council Promulgated by His Holiness Pope Paul VI On December 4, 1963. Click here for the full text. See also n. 54: “[S]teps should be taken so that the faithful may also be able to say or to sing together in Latin those parts of the Ordinary of the Mass which pertain to them.”

[6] Paragraph 47 of Musicam Sacram, the Instruction On Music In The Liturgy. Sacred Congregation of Rites March 5, 1967. Click here for the full text. I also want to quote an earlier paragraph, but for the sake of space have decided to not include it in the main text of this post:

It is to be hoped that pastors of souls, musicians and the faithful will gladly accept these norms and put them into practice, uniting their efforts to attain the true purpose of sacred music, “which is the glory of God and the sanctification of the faithful.”

(a) By sacred music is understood that which, being created for the celebration of divine worship, is endowed with a certain holy sincerity of form. (Cf. St. Pius X, Motu Proprio ‘Tra le sollecitudini,’ n. 2.)
(b) The following come under the title of sacred music here: Gregorian chant, sacred polyphony in its various forms both ancient and modern, sacred music for the organ and other approved instruments, and sacred popular music, be it liturgical or simply religious. (Paragraph 4)

[7] Letter to the Bishops on the Minimum Repertoire of Plainchant: Voluntati Obsequens. Sacred Congregation for Divine Worship April 14, 1974. Click here for the full text.

[8] Third Typical Edition of the GIRM. Click here for the text online.

[9] Miller, John. “The Nature and Definition of the Liturgy.” Theological Studies 18.3 (1957): 356

Let me also suggest a stop by at Roma Locuta est, where Jake Tawney has written extensively on topics such as sacred music and the liturgy. “100 Years of Church Teaching on Gregorian Chant” in particular inspired me to write this post here.

[T]hough he [Christ] was in the form of God, [he] did not regard equality with God something to be grasped. Rather he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, coming in human likeness…he humbled himself, becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross. Because of this, God greatly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, of those in heaven and on earth and under the earth. (cf. Phil 2:6-11)

In this passage, the writer interweaves Old Testament faith and culture with the Gospel of Christ. Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger explains that in this hymn the “apostolic Church takes up the words of promise in Isaiah 45:23: ‘By myself I have sworn, from my mouth has gone forth in righteousness a word that shall not return: ‘To me every knee shall bow.” In the interweaving of Old and New Testaments, it becomes clear that, even as crucified, Jesus…is himself God by nature. Through him, through the Crucified, the bold promise of the Old Testament is now fulfilled: all bend the knee before Jesus, the one who descended, and bow to him precisely as the one true God” [1]. The theologian eventually concludes that it is therefore in adoration, in this humble bowing down and kneeling to, that man partakes in the most authentic human culture: the culture of truth that loves the Creator and King. Hence adoration and prayer, which culminate in the Liturgical sphere, have a distinctively cosmic element; creation itself is most true and noble when everything that is becomes itself, and ergo gives praise to her God. Thus, if we look at this through an ontological and anthropological lens, we can conclude with Ratzinger: “The humble gesture by which we fall at the feet of the Lord inserts us into the true path of life of the cosmos” [2].

Furthermore, kneeling itself is a Christological gesture. In the Acts of the Apostles, the writer records Stephen’s martyrdom, and details that as they were stoning this loyal disciple of Jesus Christ, “he fell to his knees and cried out in a loud voice, ‘Lord do no hold this sin against them’” (7:60). Surely, this verse reminds one of Christ, who, in Luke’s Gospel, kneels in Gethsemane. Thus, Luke is showing that the kneeling of the first martyr is his entry into the prayer of Jesus. Something ontological, even mystical, is taking place here. When man abandons himself in his entirety, causing his knees to buckle, he falls to the ground, the dirt of which the first man was made. But in this descent of man to the ground, there is the humility of the God-man, Jesus Christ. In this descent of man to the ground, man encounters the prayer of Jesus Christ, and by acknowledging and crying out to the King of Kings, man is lifted into the clouds–into the realm of God Himself. Ultimately, the truest position for the human person that expresses his nature in relation to God is on one’s knees, looking up to the Crucified Lord and in that humble gaze of God’s glory, he tastes that blood and water–the elements of the Sacramental economy–from Jesus’ side that set man free, inundate him with grace.

Kneeling inserts man into the position of Him who is at the center of history, Jesus of Nazareth. How beautiful this Christological component of kneeling! It is no wonder that, according to a story of the Desert Fathers, the devil, appearing to “a certain Abba Apollo…looked black and ugly, with frighteningly thin limbs, but most strikingly, he had no knees“. Referencing this myth, Ratzinger declares that the very “inability to kneel is seen as the very essence of the diabolical” [3]. This is not an attack on any sort of physical inabilities that some unfortunately may suffer. The devil has no knees because he lacks so much that proper worship is literally impossible for him. May this serve as a reminder to us the harm and danger of sin, which deforms human nature–the knees of the soul, we could even say.

All of this reminds me of a quote by Pope John XXIII: “Man is never so great as when he is kneeling”. In an interview with Peter Seewald, Joseph Ratzinger addresses this very quote: “I believe that this attitude, which was already one of the primitive forms of Old Testament prayer, is something essential for Christians”. [4] But why is it so that this action and position is essential? What is the practical implication and understanding? In a society with philosophical structures that fail to see interiorly, it may appear that kneeling or standing–especially in the Sacred Liturgy, for-instance–don’t really matter, as long as one is merely “prayerful”; some may even propose kneeling to be archaic and now unnecessary. However, I disagree. We have noted the cosmic and Christological dimensions of kneeling, which should suffice to silent those groups that deem kneeling unimportant. Nonetheless, a critical look at the position is also revealing. In Ratzinger’s words: “It is the most impressive physical expression of Christian piety, by which, on one hand, we remain upright, looking out, gazing upon him, but, on the other, we nonetheless bow down” [5].

Lastly, any sort of discussion of kneeling is bound to remind one of its place and significance in the Liturgy, the culmination of prayer–as has already been stated. It is a miserable circumstance that kneeling, in some places, is losing its importance within the Mass. As the surest expression of abandonment and praise, what a perfect place for man to express his awareness of the reality that is the Divine Liturgy. Ratzinger writes powerfully:

It may well be that kneeling is alien to modern culture–insofar as it is a culture, for this culture has turned away from the faith and no longer knows the One before whom kneeling is the right, indeed the intrinsically necessary gesture. The man who learns to believe learns also to kneel, and a faith or a liturgy no longer familiar with kneeling would be sick at the core. Where it has been lost, kneeling must be rediscovered, so that, in our prayer, we remain in fellowship with the apostles and martyrs, in fellowship with the whole cosmos, indeed in union with Jesus Christ Himself. [6]

If piety and orthodoxy, as well as orthopraxy, have any importance for Christians, then may we kneel. May we kneel in adoration of Christ the King, the perfect Mediator Dei, from whose being the entire universe was formed. May we kneel as we gaze into the Heart of God’s only Son, and in that gaze, soar the heavens above the dirt of the earth. May we kneel in thanksgiving, praise, and petition to the Almighty One. Indeed, may we kneel because we are in love, and in that falling to one’s knees, fall deeper into that Vastness of Being, the Trinity.

______

1. The Spirit of the Liturgy (San Francisco: Ignatius, 2000), 174

2. Ibid.

3. Ibid., 193 (emphasis original)

4. God And the World (San Francisco: Ignatius, 2002), 410

5. Ibid., 409 (emphasis added)

6. Spirit of the Liturgy, 194

“Why Be Catholic?”

The Most Rev. Robert Carlson, now Archbishop of St. Louis, answered this question at a talk he gave at Central Michigan University in January of 2009.  His answer: “because of the Eucharist.”

Jesus is made present to us in the liturgy in many ways: through His word proclaimed; through His priests in His Sacraments; through two or three fellow believers gathered together; and most profoundly through the Sacrifice of His Body and Blood made present in the Holy Eucharist.  Yet, the Eucharistic presence surpasses the others.  Pope Paul VI said it this way: “This presence is called ‘real’ – by which is not intended to exclude the other types of presence as if they could not be ‘real’ too, but because it is presence in the fullest sense: that is to say, it is a substantial presence by which Christ, God and man, makes himself wholly and entirely present.” (CCC 1374; Mysterium Fidei 39)

Rediscovering the Eucharist

Midway through my freshman year of college I experienced a profound conversion where I came to know Jesus as so personally present to me as to be next to me or ‘in me.’  I never knew such closeness to God before.  I came to know Christ so deeply while pursuing God in the Scriptures and asking Him to help me to believe in His Son (as I later discovered, He was pursuing me).

I was raised in a good Catholic home all my life, but I never understood that Jesus was REALLY present in the Eucharist.  I was flabbergasted when I realized that Jesus wanted to take the spiritual closeness we had and make it a physical, tangible reality in Holy Communion.

I already knew that God loved us so much that He took flesh and dwelled among us.  He wanted to reach out and touch us, but not because physicality is more real, but because He made us to be both spiritual and physical beings and He wanted to approach us on our level.  The invisible God wanted a physical union with you and me.  I had thought that was just an experience of the Apostles and early disciples, but…on the night He was betrayed, Jesus established the Eucharistic Sacrifice as the perpetual offering by which His REAL PRESENCE would “be with you always” (Mt 28:20).

I had been receiving Christ bodily in Holy Communion since I was a kid, but when I realized the reality of Christ’s real presence, everything changed.  I started to prepare myself, to get ready to receive Him.  He was already in my life through the Gift of the Holy Spirit I received, but when I received Him anew in the Holy Eucharist it was a most special time of intimacy with God.  He was with me and in me in a way that was singular and spectacular.

The Pearl of Great Price

When I discovered this truth about the Eucharist and discovered that Catholic and Orthodox Christians were the only ones who taught and practiced Jesus’ abiding presence in the Eucharist, I knew why I was Catholic and why this was the Home I had always been searching for.  On this Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ (Corpus Christi), let us give thanks to God, Father Son and Holy Spirit, for giving us His name (Christian), for raising us in His house (the Church), and for feeding us at His table with His very life-giving flesh, the Holy Eucharist!