When I walked up the stairway of Sacré Coeur at Montmartre, I could hear the angelic voices of the Benedictine Nuns singing. The sung Mass was followed by Vespers and I was transported to another time and place. The congregation of worshippers and sightseers was taken up with the majestic beauty, despite the distractions of guards and the constant movement about the Basilica. It was an hour to savour being in the presence of God, being in the present with God. I remember so clearly the minutes fleeing and I wanted it to go on.
The prophet Jeremiah (31:31ff) tells us that even after Israel had broken its covenant with the Lord, the Lord insisted on writing the Law on their hearts. The relationship he wanted to establish was not about the externals, but about knowledge. Knowledge of the Lord himself. This new covenant was an opportunity for Israel to be transformed by the gift of this new relationship, for only when his Law is planted deep within them will he be their God and they his people.
How is this knowledge revealed? Jeremiah reveals that the Lord will forgive Israel’s sins and will never call their sin to mind; that is, the Lord will be merciful. He will create in you a pure heart (Ps 50).
As the evening progressed and cooled we were drawn to the music that played on the lower steps. The congregation became an audience, and the centre of our attention from moved worship to entertainment. A warm wind blew as the steps became crowded. Dusk spread deep red across the Parisian skyline.
In each of these moments, one following the other, I had a growing and strong awareness of my relationship with God, one lifted up and awe-inspiring by the liturgy, music and architecture, knowing I am loved, forgiven, bonded to my God in covenant. In the other, a glorious experience of life as grace, the joy of his help, of his sustaining presence (Ps 50). I felt truly alive, bristling with excitement and energy.
This is but a small measure of what awaits us, for Jesus reminds us: And when I am lifted up from earth, I shall draw all men to myself (John 12:32).
Friday, March 27, 2009
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Gifted with grace
Some are born with great genes. They don’t get fat or overweight and can eat whatever they want. Me, on the other hand, I am on to the second half of a century and need to get to the gym several times a week, and that’s just to maintain my weight and fitness. In my aged state I eat low-cholesterol margarine, wholemeal bread, lean meat and low-fat milk. The truth is, it’s terribly unexciting. But if I want to live a long and healthy life, I have to take control of my own life and do what has to be done. And yes. I cheat sometimes.
Yet I know there are some who need do little to maintain their health and fitness. They are the fortunate ones.
There has always been a tension between what we are gifted with and what we have to work at. And that tension is no less evident in the gift of salvation (Ephesians 2) by the grace of God, and the need to express our faith through good works (James 2:24). Scholars have long since reconciled the two by a deeper exploration of James’ text, nevertheless the play between the two highlights the struggles we live with each day.
It is easy to be critical of those who present themselves at Sunday Mass as being ‘holy Joe’s’ inasmuch as we can be dismissive of those constant ‘do-gooders’ who visit, cook, transport, raise funds, extend our awareness, save whales and forests. If we are mindless and unreflective as church-goers or social activists you would have to question both the motivation and purpose.
As James concludes – faith without good works is empty; and equally that good works without faith do not necessarily lead to salvation in Christ.
If we want long and faith-filled lives we must find a balance between the two. Doubtlessly there are times in our lives when we will lean more heavily towards one rather than the other, but the call to self-examination and self-renewal is constant. We cannot continue on mindlessly. If nothing else this Lent, give yourself time to review and reconcile the tensions in your life whether it be in your diet, your exercise, your TV viewing, your family quality time, your prayer time, your relationships, attending church or your charity work. Then act. And no cheating.
Yet I know there are some who need do little to maintain their health and fitness. They are the fortunate ones.
There has always been a tension between what we are gifted with and what we have to work at. And that tension is no less evident in the gift of salvation (Ephesians 2) by the grace of God, and the need to express our faith through good works (James 2:24). Scholars have long since reconciled the two by a deeper exploration of James’ text, nevertheless the play between the two highlights the struggles we live with each day.
It is easy to be critical of those who present themselves at Sunday Mass as being ‘holy Joe’s’ inasmuch as we can be dismissive of those constant ‘do-gooders’ who visit, cook, transport, raise funds, extend our awareness, save whales and forests. If we are mindless and unreflective as church-goers or social activists you would have to question both the motivation and purpose.
As James concludes – faith without good works is empty; and equally that good works without faith do not necessarily lead to salvation in Christ.
If we want long and faith-filled lives we must find a balance between the two. Doubtlessly there are times in our lives when we will lean more heavily towards one rather than the other, but the call to self-examination and self-renewal is constant. We cannot continue on mindlessly. If nothing else this Lent, give yourself time to review and reconcile the tensions in your life whether it be in your diet, your exercise, your TV viewing, your family quality time, your prayer time, your relationships, attending church or your charity work. Then act. And no cheating.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
The law of love
My parents loved me. They were fair. The rules by which so many people co-existed in one household were built on love and trust. None of us was perfect and if the music had to be faced, there was nothing to fear. Even after being disciplined, there was no place for doubting being loved, needed, cared for or being part of a family.
The Ten Commandments or Decalogue found in the Books of Exodus and Deuteronomy are indeed at the core of the Law of Moses, although there are a total 613 mitzvot or commandments to be found in the First or Old Testament. The Catholic Church has its own canon law which comprises 1752 laws.
Laws arise from lived experience, based on common wisdom. It is possible to view the Decalogue as rules for survival as a community. Some commentators suggest that the Decalogue was constructed to ensure the integrity of the Hebrew people – written and edited by a variety of communities between 922 and 622 BC, others surmise that the Decalogue owes its origins to the Hittites (an ancient middle eastern people) or even to the Egyptians. Biblical tradition acknowledges Moses himself as the author of the Pentateuch (the first five books of the scriptures), and, of course, the personal recipient of the Decalogue on Mt Sinai.
At the risk of being over simplistic, my parents brought the rules for good life, good conduct and good relationships from their families. They adapted and changed these rules through experimentation, success and failure. They may never have articulated them as a code, but they lived them and offered them as gifts to their children. In turn my wife and I brought to our family the sum of what our families gave to us, and so it continues. We too have no written code, for what we have passed on to our children is both oral and experiential.
The Law of Christ is also the sum of what Jesus offered to his disciples. Again, not a list of rules, but a way of life. Lived exceptionally we understand that a new age is inaugurated (the kingdom of God). We do not need any number of laws or commandments to live the Law of Christ. What we need is a life whose foundation is built upon love and trust, and above all faith.
On Tuesday we celebrate the feast of St Patrick. Patrick was without doubt one whose true foundation was built on Christ and whose rich and extraordinary life is both admirable and exemplary.
The Ten Commandments or Decalogue found in the Books of Exodus and Deuteronomy are indeed at the core of the Law of Moses, although there are a total 613 mitzvot or commandments to be found in the First or Old Testament. The Catholic Church has its own canon law which comprises 1752 laws.
Laws arise from lived experience, based on common wisdom. It is possible to view the Decalogue as rules for survival as a community. Some commentators suggest that the Decalogue was constructed to ensure the integrity of the Hebrew people – written and edited by a variety of communities between 922 and 622 BC, others surmise that the Decalogue owes its origins to the Hittites (an ancient middle eastern people) or even to the Egyptians. Biblical tradition acknowledges Moses himself as the author of the Pentateuch (the first five books of the scriptures), and, of course, the personal recipient of the Decalogue on Mt Sinai.
At the risk of being over simplistic, my parents brought the rules for good life, good conduct and good relationships from their families. They adapted and changed these rules through experimentation, success and failure. They may never have articulated them as a code, but they lived them and offered them as gifts to their children. In turn my wife and I brought to our family the sum of what our families gave to us, and so it continues. We too have no written code, for what we have passed on to our children is both oral and experiential.
The Law of Christ is also the sum of what Jesus offered to his disciples. Again, not a list of rules, but a way of life. Lived exceptionally we understand that a new age is inaugurated (the kingdom of God). We do not need any number of laws or commandments to live the Law of Christ. What we need is a life whose foundation is built upon love and trust, and above all faith.
On Tuesday we celebrate the feast of St Patrick. Patrick was without doubt one whose true foundation was built on Christ and whose rich and extraordinary life is both admirable and exemplary.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Enlightening transformation
One of the ‘Luminous Mysteries’ appended to the Rosary of our parents and grandparents by the late Pope John Paul II was the Transfiguration of the Lord. The disciples Peter, James and John are witness to the appearance of Elijah and Moses together with a transfigured Jesus. The image that often attends this experience is that painted by Raphael between 1516 and 1520. This high altar piece now hangs in Pinacoteca Vaticana of the Vatican Museum. I was privileged to view it and meditate on its beauty and composition in September last.
As rich as Raphael’s expression is, it cannot contain the depth and breadth of what the disciples saw and felt, of the early Church and of our experience of the divine in our own lives, although his attempt is nothing short of majestic.
The Transfiguration, then, is not just a retelling of an event, it is the event. It incorporates the story of Israel’s salvation, the messiahship and mission of Jesus, and reveals the transformation that awaits us within the kingdom (the here and now) but which also anticipates our own exaltation at the end of time.
The Transfiguration reveals a part of the inner mystery of Jesus and part of our potential as human beings seeking divinity. Here is Jesus, alongside Moses, the redeemer of the Hebrews from their slavery in Egypt, with Elijah, the great prophet who worked miracles, who ascended into heaven in a whirlwind and who would return to announce the coming of the Messiah.
The early Church was in need of this affirmation and doubtlessly co-constructed this pericope to advance their understanding of their place in this extraordinary story.
As such the Transfiguration is my story too. It is about my journey. It is about raising my consciousness and awareness of the presence of Jesus in my life and his capacity to transform me into a vehicle for his Good News. It is also your story should you choose to engage in and invest yourself in it. It needs to be retold in your own life, as a story of hope, as fulfilment of a promise.
By all means Google up an image of Raphael’s Transfiguration. Meditate upon it, pray it as part of your Rosary devotion, but most of all – live it out in hope.
As rich as Raphael’s expression is, it cannot contain the depth and breadth of what the disciples saw and felt, of the early Church and of our experience of the divine in our own lives, although his attempt is nothing short of majestic.
The Transfiguration, then, is not just a retelling of an event, it is the event. It incorporates the story of Israel’s salvation, the messiahship and mission of Jesus, and reveals the transformation that awaits us within the kingdom (the here and now) but which also anticipates our own exaltation at the end of time.
The Transfiguration reveals a part of the inner mystery of Jesus and part of our potential as human beings seeking divinity. Here is Jesus, alongside Moses, the redeemer of the Hebrews from their slavery in Egypt, with Elijah, the great prophet who worked miracles, who ascended into heaven in a whirlwind and who would return to announce the coming of the Messiah.
The early Church was in need of this affirmation and doubtlessly co-constructed this pericope to advance their understanding of their place in this extraordinary story.
As such the Transfiguration is my story too. It is about my journey. It is about raising my consciousness and awareness of the presence of Jesus in my life and his capacity to transform me into a vehicle for his Good News. It is also your story should you choose to engage in and invest yourself in it. It needs to be retold in your own life, as a story of hope, as fulfilment of a promise.
By all means Google up an image of Raphael’s Transfiguration. Meditate upon it, pray it as part of your Rosary devotion, but most of all – live it out in hope.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
A change of heart
We welcome a change of mind, sometimes as a sign of compassion, sometimes as a sign of weakness. But not often do we look at a change of mind as a sign of strength. In Greek μετανοια (metanoia) means repentance, or better, a change of mind, or a reorientation, a new way of looking at our world, and our relationships with our God an with each other.
This kind of change of mind, or perhaps more appealingly for us, ‘change of heart’, is a deliberate choice that is made for myself and for my relationships with others. It cannot be made after being brow-beaten or harried, it can only happen after I have reviewed where I am in my life, where I want to go and sorting out how I am going to get there. It will only be at my pace. This is how we would like our choices to be made – and when it comes to our life-changing decisions, this is how it should occur.
After finishing her traineeship, my daughter is plotting to leave home and head to life in the big smoke. She has our blessing, of course. She is old enough, mature enough and ready to take on responsibility for her own life. So, the decision isn’t ours, it’s hers. I have watched her as she has come to this conclusion, how would we feel if she left, how would we be able to ‘help’ her, would she work, would she study, would we keep her room (for her)? It has taken some months, and it will not happen still for several more months to come. There will be moments of regret, of sadness, of separation, yet as we know these are normal for each one of us.
Mark (1:12 – 15) leaves us in no doubt that at the centre of Jesus’ mission is the proclamation of the Good News, spelt out by Jesus himself as, ‘The time has come, and the kingdom of God is close at hand. Repent (i.e., change your heart), and believe the Good News.’
It is quite possible that Mark saw an urgency in this message which we now no longer see. Yet in its wisdom, the church provides us with these next five weeks of Lent as opportunities for self-review, for making decisions big and small, for considering how best our lives can be lived in the present so thatwe can make a difference for the future. So yes, Lent is about abstaining from meat on Fridays, fasting, almsgiving and prayer. But it is also about how better to conserve our world for our children’s children, using the resources we already have more effectively and more productively, and actively seeking to become who we are called to be by our God. This is truly metanoia from the position of strength.
This kind of change of mind, or perhaps more appealingly for us, ‘change of heart’, is a deliberate choice that is made for myself and for my relationships with others. It cannot be made after being brow-beaten or harried, it can only happen after I have reviewed where I am in my life, where I want to go and sorting out how I am going to get there. It will only be at my pace. This is how we would like our choices to be made – and when it comes to our life-changing decisions, this is how it should occur.
After finishing her traineeship, my daughter is plotting to leave home and head to life in the big smoke. She has our blessing, of course. She is old enough, mature enough and ready to take on responsibility for her own life. So, the decision isn’t ours, it’s hers. I have watched her as she has come to this conclusion, how would we feel if she left, how would we be able to ‘help’ her, would she work, would she study, would we keep her room (for her)? It has taken some months, and it will not happen still for several more months to come. There will be moments of regret, of sadness, of separation, yet as we know these are normal for each one of us.
Mark (1:12 – 15) leaves us in no doubt that at the centre of Jesus’ mission is the proclamation of the Good News, spelt out by Jesus himself as, ‘The time has come, and the kingdom of God is close at hand. Repent (i.e., change your heart), and believe the Good News.’
It is quite possible that Mark saw an urgency in this message which we now no longer see. Yet in its wisdom, the church provides us with these next five weeks of Lent as opportunities for self-review, for making decisions big and small, for considering how best our lives can be lived in the present so thatwe can make a difference for the future. So yes, Lent is about abstaining from meat on Fridays, fasting, almsgiving and prayer. But it is also about how better to conserve our world for our children’s children, using the resources we already have more effectively and more productively, and actively seeking to become who we are called to be by our God. This is truly metanoia from the position of strength.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)