Fr Peter's newsletter notes - October 2004

Twenty-Seventh Week of Ordinary Time - Sunday 3rd October 2004

Last week our breakfast group, after reading the first part of the Pope's document, Rich in Mercy (Dives in Misericordia), entered into a lively discussion as to the relationship between justice and mercy. The mercy of God has many facets because He shows his mercy to all those who seek it. However, the relationship between justice and mercy is highly topical, as many pundits would have us believe that too many of our judges are soft on criminals. For instance, it does seem strange for a reckless driver to be given a light sentence for killing a pedestrian. The judge might be showing mercy for a number of reasons - the driver's contrition, his family circumstances, his past record - but is the victim receiving justice? The application of justice is about restoring balance in the affairs of men. True justice must establish a mean between excessive punishment and feeble liberality. The exact nature of this balance does change over time. What seemed acceptable in the past, such as long- running blood feuds, no longer strike the modern mind as establishing true justice. The 'lex talionis', an eye for an eye, was a great improvement on the vengeance sought by Lamech in the Book of Genesis.

The traditional western understanding of justice has been developed alongside an appreciation of the natural law, that God- given code of rights and responsibilities. These include the right to life, the right to a family, the right to a good name, to private property and, most importantly, the right to practise one's religion. The administration of justice must include the universal safeguard of these 'natural rights' of the human person. Justice in itself is blind, the traditional image being of a blind woman holding a pair of scales. We might think of mercy as the faculty of sight, and the establishment of a greater purpose. All of us, I hope, have been the recipients of mercy and, most importantly, have been merciful to those who have hurt us in the past. The application of mercy is not about forgetting past actions nor thinking that these wrong actions did not matter. Mercy is more the wilful re-establishment of order after wrongdoing, for instance, of not letting a family dispute run for ages.

The mercy of God does not deny the role of justice, but transforms it by revealing its hidden dynamic and ultimate purpose. We might think of God as having the greatest eyes, as the one who sees the widest picture. This vision for the Christian is suffused with love, both in the order of creation and in the order of redemption. The greatest balance will be achieved with the establishment of the Kingdom of God at the end of time. Meanwhile we are invited to help build this Kingdom, and hence have a duty to show mercy. A Christian state would also show such mercy in a more institutional way through its application of justice. This is incredibly difficult to appreciate as a victim of the criminal but, because the application is a participation in the work of God, it becomes the one way in which the mercy can be sought and the ultimate peace of mind found.

Twenty-Eighth Week of Ordinary Time - Sunday 10th October 2004

Perhaps it is too soon to say but I think that Bishop Longley's Visitation to the Parish was a reasonable success. Over the three visits he was able to see the Parish in action. However, it must be remembered that success in spiritual matters is virtually impossible to judge, and remains opaque to any form of secular analysis. The numbers attending Mass provide some indication but much priestly work, as well as lay contact with the Parish, is not quantified by such a figure.

A better marker than the concept of success would be that of fidelity to the liturgical and spiritual life of the Church. The City has had over the years many witnesses of fidelity, and most notably for this Parish, the martyrs of Charterhouse near Smithfield Market.

When the Bishop and I visited Charterhouse last Saturday, the Master very kindly gave us a tour, after Evening Prayer, of those parts that remain from the medieval monastery. The most moving aspect of the visit was entering the barely visible ruins of the monastery Church, which had been revealed through some post-War demolition. Only the outline of the Church survives along with the base of the High Altar. It was here that seven of the monks including the Prior refused to sign the Oath of Supremacy which gave Henry VIII the title Head of the Church.

Those monks had remained faithful at the price of their lives, and I wonder if they ever thought about whether their actions would one day be remembered by a different generation of City Catholics still wanting to remain faithful to the Church. Their example inspires us, but for them it remained an act of complete trust, taken when the old order seemed to be collapsing around them. The monks gave their lives to the Faith. It is very unlikely that we will be asked to do the same. There are other forms of witness, and these include to the traditions of the Church. Too often in the history of the Church her members have mistakenly thought that, by an undue accommodation with the culture of the time, the Church would be dragged out of the shadows and into the mainstream. As a one-sided approach this is bound to fail.

The Church has to make its teachings and practices understandable to each generation, and not give up the unique treasure that the Church possesses. The post-Vatican II period is now obviously an historic era in many aspects, in its music, its fashion and its language. However, listening to many clergy and lay people one might think that this period was the apogee of culture, and that the Church must conform to its mores. The consequences of this can be seen, for instance, in many university chaplaincies where the culture reflects the chaplain's own youth rather than that of the present day. This never-ending cycle of cultural redundancy can only be broken if we convince ourselves that the Church provides a critique of contemporary mores as well as an alternative way of life. This can only achieved through a fidelity to the traditions of the Church as witnessed so courageously by those Charterhouse monks.

Twenty-Ninth Week of Ordinary Time - Sunday 17th October 2004

To the eyes of Enlightenment Europe, the American War of Independence looked like a clear case of the good fighting the forces of reaction and evil, namely the British Crown. America was cast as an Enlightenment Arcadia free from the corruption of 'ancien' Europe. The rational philosophers of the previous decades had prepared the ground for such thoughts by recasting the Catholic doctrine of original sin in a purely secular light. Man had been happy in a state of nature but had succumbed to 'artifice', and Man had been in conflict with himself and everyone else since then. America, as a newly discovered land, was the place to build this new Jerusalem, free from the weight of history. The American Revolution had many more armchair supporters back in France than in the Thirteen Colonies themselves. French motives were both partly philosophical and partly anti-English, a sentiment greatly fanned by the loss of the Seven Years War. Back in the Colonies the situation was much more complex, and allegiances owed more to circumstances and patterns of patronage. If George Washington had been an English Army commander, events might have turned out very differently.

This is not the place to discuss the merits of the American War of Independence, but to emphasise the effects this revolution will have, and in a much more systematically sinister way later. George Franklin's, the unofficial American ambassador to France, greatest fan was a young lawyer from Arras, Maximilien de Robespierre. Much of the populist political language of American Independence would emerge later in a more violent form: the Committees of Public Safety, the will of the People, etc.

After the Revolution, the new ruling elite in France, the Directory, instituted a new chronology, just as Pol Pot would attempt two hundred years later in Cambodia, to emphasise the beginning of the new age. This search for a 'prelapsarian' ideal began in the 1760s and has since been the motor for revolutionary change. The danger in such a strategy is twofold. First, it denies the reality of human fallibility, and, secondly, rejects the historical understanding of culture with its steady accretion of human wisdom. The Church explains human fallibility in terms of the Fall, and sees culture as the natural context for human flourishing and backdrop of faith. The denial of either takes away the dignity of the person and the drama of life. As soon as we lose sight of the individual, amidst talk of classes, factions, peoples, the righteous and unrighteous alike, quite apart from enemies of the state, then the baser instincts of humanity take over.

The preservation of human dignity and the nurturing of human culture are two sides of the same action for the Church in its care for humanity. Modern history has shown the fragility of both the person and human culture. The present American election has thrown up these issues, and has even divided the Bishops over how to vote. Many Bishops have drawn a distinction between foundational and other Catholic issues as a way of determining for whom to vote. The foundational issues, such as abortion, euthanasia and same-sex marriage, are non-negotiable. Any candidate who actively supports such issues is not worthy of a Catholic vote. Other more liberally minded Bishops have pointed out that life means all of life, and therefore economic justice at home and abroad, and support of family life, must also be considered. This might be seen as more or less dividing Republicans from Democrats, but I do not think that the political spectrum is so clear-cut, and certainly not in Great Britain. Every party has serious flaws in its understanding of the dignity of the person and the right to life. All parties seem to be afraid of giving some moral lead less they collapse under a vitriolic tabloid attack for gross hypocrisy. The tabloid mentality is the direct descendant of those first revolutionaries whose thought patterns and chilling slogans left no room for the individual, whether saint or sinner.

Thirtieth Week of Ordinary Time - Sunday 24th October 2004

This last week I have begun preparing a talk on St Paul's Letters for a group of lay missionaries who are studying at St Patrick's in Soho Square. Like nearly everything, I have left it a bit late. It is always easy to accept some speaking engagement which is months away as there seems all the time in the world to prepare, but time, as we all well know, creeps up very quickly. The question is where to start in trying to understand St Paul's thought. Perhaps the best place is on the road near to Damascus. This startling event potentially contains every aspect of his theology, the voice from heaven being implicitly a revelation of the Trinity. St. Paul, as a Pharisee, already had a developed faith in the reality and promises of God. Consequently it is not correct to speak of a conversion as such, because the Triune God recognised by Paul was the Triune recognised by Saul. There was certainly much that Paul later rejected from his pharisaic background, especially an unwavering devotion to the law, but the life-changing event in his life was the experience on the road to Damascus.

Later when St. Paul had to justify his actions to the community in Galatia, then being divided under the influence of 'Judaic Christians from Jerusalem, he emphasises that God must have chosen him from the beginning for this task. The choice by God came through His Son, Jesus Christ, and points the way to how we may understand the meaning of 'justification'. This emphasises the work of God rather than the work of man. The vital change that 'justification' makes on the believer can be deduced from St. Luke's account of the voice that calls St Paul, from heaven. The 'me' refers both to Jesus Christ and to the Christian disciple. This 'me' is embodied in the disciples through grace, and so the assiduous persecution of the disciple is persecution of Jesus Christ. This bond between believer and Jesus Christ will on reflection open up a vista onto the work of the Holy Spirit. Later St. Paul will develop his theology of the Church as the 'Body of Christ' and continue to emphasise the real communion between members. Very briefly we can see how this experience on the road to Damascus opens the way to a Trinitarian understanding of God, forming the foundation of his teaching.

The question is, did St. Paul distort the teachings of Jesus, and the answer is, of course, no. The risen Jesus promised to be with the disciples wherever they go, so intimating a developing sense of community and Church. Jesus also told Nicodemus that the Spirit blows wherever it chooses, thus demonstrating the mysterious nature of God's providence, and the election of St. Paul, one of the most unlikely people (in human eyes at least) to be His evangelist.

A meeting with God is something neither solely an intellectual nor simply an affective meeting. Rather any encounter with God embraces the whole person and is all these things. It is always life-changing, perhaps not in such an outward form as exemplified by St. Paul, but internally when one suddenly becomes overwhelmed with that freedom that only God can give. This sense can make us see our daily obligations in another light, and they become the way to serve Christ rather than a simple burden to undergo. The taste of freedom, far from making us do anything we want, allows us to choose the right thing at the right time with a clear conscience, knowing that God in His mysterious providence has chosen us all along.

Thirty-First Week of Ordinary Time - Sunday 31st October 2004

There was a telling comment in last week's Sunday Telegraph from the winner of the Man Booker Prize 2004, Alan Hollinghurst, that 'the problem with nice people is that they are frightfully boring to write about. What I have always been interested in is 'moral weakness'. Earlier he had commented that, 'a likeable hero has never interested me very much'. This is a very modern attitude but something that is also deeply unchristian in sentiment. I do not know whether the author possesses a conscious anti-religious bias. Perhaps the issue of religion has never interested him, but the practical result of such lines of thinking is that they pull the rug from under any sustained moral endeavour or argument, whether this be inspired by classical, Christian, Kantian or utilitarian ideals. The implied tedium of writing about the good must reflect the tedium of trying to be good. Good people are obviously second best since in this scenario they are only able to react to any situation, being devoid of any interest to inspire them to act.

Obviously this moral viewpoint is deeply flawed from a Christian perspective. It is unfortunately all too common today. The prize-winning author has brought to the public gaze the substructure of so much contemporary moral thinking and political practice. This way of thinking has inadvertently legitimised the appalling culture of spin that has developed in recent years. The inference is that, as we are all so stupid and submerged by self-interest, no one is able to understand any sustained moral argument. One consequence of this is the reliance by the government on tabloid style slogans to simplify complex arguments and appeal to the basest instincts of humanity, envy and fear. The simplification of the need for war with the convenient fiction of the now famous forty-five minutes to justify a war has subsequently cauterised those who supported military action, and make those who reject the war look intellectually lazy by simply saying this slogan was untrue. It is a situation in which there can be no winners, nor agreed ground on which to make difficult national choices.

This breakdown in the possibility of moral discourse is nothing new, and has been building a head of steam for the last twenty to thirty years. Consequently I find it strange that the author has such a deep antipathy to the 1980s since his moral viewpoints, look remarkably similar. The individualistic concerns of those times, and the lifestyle for which it was famous, are a consequence of believing that no-one can be really good and everyone is out for themselves.

The author's analysis of the 1980s as a clash between nastiness and hypocrisy is too simplistic. The battle lines are much more subtle and are between those who believe in sustained moral argument, the ability to choose the good and to show courage in the face of adversity; and those on the other side who think any such effort is either meaningless or perverse. This is the culture war that the Church should be fighting in this country on behalf of the nation. It is all the more necessary when telling the truth or pursuing an argument in the public forum is fast becoming an irrelevant ideal. The teaching of the Church is a rich treasure to be shared. It is based on nature, on revelation and two thousand years of developing understanding.

This then is probably not the definitive novel about the 1980s and their aftermath. We must await one in which a likeable hero, in the mould of Guy Crouchback of Evelyn Waugh's Sword of Honour Trilogy, is able to maintain his moral standards amidst a sea of industrial decay and rampant capitalism with its fatalistic and depraved consequences. Then we will be able to judge the period for what it was. A novel of sustained moral argument and the making of difficult choices, rather than a celebration of nastiness, will be much better able to illuminate aspects of the human condition in a society which unfortunately is all too much like our own.

The Readings from St Paul's Letter to the Galatians, Twenty-Seventh Week of Ordinary Time, Year C Cycle II

The reasons which prompted St. Paul to write his letter to the Galatians have now been lost. It seems that groups of 'Judaic Christians' were encouraging this community of former pagans to adopt the former practises of the lawEvery attempt to force this community to adopt such practices mitigated against the efficacy of Jesus Christ's redemption. The radical quality of God's revelation in Jesus Christ nullifies those practices, and should not be imposed by others. (Monday).

St. Paul uses his own life as an example of the radical quality of the Gospel. His call on the road to Damascus, subsequent seclusion in the desert, and preaching to the gentiles of Arabia, demonstrated that the Gospel is open to all because it receives it's vindication from God alone. St. Paul faithfully handed down the traditions given to him but the origin of his call was from God. (Tuesday).

St. Paul continues to use selective parts of his own life to resist those critics who claim that he was in conflict with the Jerusalem Church. Both missions, to the circumcised and uncircumcised, were ordained by God. St. Paul's clarity of thought made him critical of St. Peter's actions that fostered this spurious divide. (Wednesday).

The Galatians had come to faith through the preaching of St. Paul and the action of the Holy Spirit. In a perverse way, they now wanted to 'perfect' it with a physical mark, thus contradicting the sufficiency of Jesus' death on the Cross. The outpouring of the Holy Spirit should be adequate proof. (Thursday).

All people of faith are the true heirs of Abraham. He trusted in the promises of God. The Law with its impossible demands brought a curse on those who tried to follow, a curse only lifted by the death of Jesus on the Cross. The Law has now become superfluous because the believer has been given the Holy Spirit, the very gift given to the Galatians. (Friday).

The Readings from St Paul's Letter to the Galatians and Ephesians, Twenty-Eighth Week of Ordinary Time, Year C Cycle II

St Paul's dispute with the Galatians is not with Judaism as such, but with the 'agitators' who wanted to force Gentile converts to submit to the Law. The Law has been replaced by Christ who is the true source of freedom, and the Galatians, through participating in this spiritual freedom, become the 'heirs' of the free woman. St Paul interprets the story of Abraham, Hagar and Sarah through the person of Jesus Christ allowing him to develop this obscure allegorical interpretation. (Monday).

The gift of freedom given to believers makes it possible to see the Law as a form of slavery. This was the valid way to worship God but with Christ the limitations of the Law have been superceded. The adoption of a particular practice matters little without also adopting the rest, and such an act denies the redemption achieved by Jesus Christ. The impossibility of fulfilling the Law can only lead in itself to a fall from grace. (Tuesday).

The responsibility of Christian freedom opens up two paths, the way of the flesh and the way of the Spirit. The way of the flesh abuses this freedom and turns it into a self-serving activity that quickly leads to every type of sin. The way of the Spirit fulfils the Law from the inside, and brings forth its own particular fruits. (Wednesday).

The opening passage of St Paul's Letter to the Ephesians is an extended blessing in the form of a hymn that places Christ's identity within a cosmic setting. Through the gift of faith the Christian's earthly existence is already partially bound up with the invisible world of heaven. The gathering at the end of time under Christ presupposes an election at the beginning. The believer has been stamped with the Holy Spirit through the sacrament of Baptism, and this gift allows the believer to participate in the establishment of God's kingdom. (Thursday and Friday).

The Readings from St Paul's Letter to the Ephesians, Twenty-Ninth Week of Ordinary Time, Year C Cycle II

It is only because God is 'rich in mercy' that the believer has moved from a state of death to one of life. No such passage is possible unaided, as life is spent in submission to the forces of evil. This pessimistic view of pagan humanity is brought to an end by Christ. He allows the believer, even in this life, to begin to share through grace His victory over death. (Monday, replaced by St. Luke, apostle).

The pagan Ephesians had no hope till the advent of Christ, who fulfilled the prophecy of Isaiah that those far away, the Gentiles, would be brought close. This closeness would not be a sharing in the old covenant, but a legitimate place in the new covenant, where Christ is the unique access to the Father. All previous barriers have been destroyed and one new people formed on the historic preaching of the apostles, and through the sharing of the Holy Spirit. (Tuesday).

St. Paul explains how it was a special favour given to them that allowed the Ephesians to hear the Good News through him. He had been chosen to preach the message to the pagans of the known world. Their timely illumination came only with the coming of Christ. Now the pagans can seek God with confidence rather than remain under the pervading influence of the 'powers and dominations'. (Wednesday).

St. Paul prays that the community will remain strong in the face of persecution. The prayer equates the Church with Jesus Christ, as the place where the believer finds strength. The glorious future of a superabundant love and knowledge, to be shared with the saint, should encourage us in our everyday lives of faith. (Thursday).

The participation in the cosmic vision of the previous prayer requires the moral renewal appropriate to faith. The life of virtue is orientated to the maintenance of unity among believers. Hence the Christian emphasis on humility. The peaceful communion of the visible body reflects the invisible union of the Trinity. (Friday).

The Readings from St Paul's Letter to the Ephesians and Philippians, Thirtieth Week of Ordinary Time, Year C Cycle II

The call to walk in love is the believers' response to Christ's loving self-offering on the Cross. This 'love' is the glue that binds the community together. Every immoral act will attack this bond, and this begins with words and coarse conversation. St. Paul is all too aware of the power of words and devious rhetoric. Wanton words lead to immoral actions and, for a community founded on God's love, that is effectively engaging in idolatrous activity. (Monday).

St. Paul makes the key comparison between husband and wife, and Christ and His Church. The metaphor of marriage to describe the relationship between God and His chosen people had a long Old Testament history. The submission of wives and the governance of husbands are both transformed by the love of Christ. For the Christian, governance gives way to sacrifice and submission becomes sanctification. (Tuesday).

The radical nature of Christianity is not exhibited through the overthrow of the existing social order. Instead, this order has to be transformed from within by grace; the obedience of children becomes love, the authority of fathers becomes guidance. The relationship between slave and master should be tempered with a sense of mutual respect in the sure knowledge of a future judgement. (Wednesday).

The Christian battles against the forces of evil rather than the existing structures of society. The strength given by grace makes every believer able to resist the cosmic forces. The triumph over them will eventually transform society as well, whose structures reflect the sinfulness of humanity. The Gospel of peace effects a personal and communal renewal. (Thursday).

St. Paul probably wrote his letter to the Philippians while in captivity in Ephesus (AD 56-7), a community he had established fifteen years earlier. They had been generous with gifts and his affectionate feelings for them are reflected in his opening greeting, which thanks them for their perseverance in preaching the Gospel. (Friday).

The Readings from St Paul's Letter to the Philippians, Thirtieth-First Week of Ordinary Time, Year C Cycle II

St. Paul encourages his newly founded community to realise the gift of their union 'in Christ'. They are to share a common attitude with Jesus, to be compassionate and tender. Within their community they are to practise humility, the active virtue that places the interests of the other member first. (Monday).

The historical figure of Jesus who rose from the dead is truly the pre-existent Son. The historical drama of the death and Resurrection 'illuminates' the divine drama of the descent and ascent of the Son. The depths of the Son's loving obedience to the Father can be seen in His putting aside the glory of His divinity, and not holding onto it as if it were a 'miser's booty'. His descent to an ultimately violent death and consequent vindication by the Father is the drama of our faith, which in turn reveals the inner nature of God. (Tuesday).

All four counsels, those to steadfastness, harmony, humility and now to obedience, were delivered to the Philippians under the threat of St Paul's death. This ultimate sacrifice would be worthwhile should they remain faithful, and through faith, complete their salvation with good works. A community of living lights in a pagan world would be the greatest possible testimony for the Apostle. (Wednesday).

Every one of the communities founded by St. Paul suffered from division inspired by those who insisted on pagan converts submitting to Judaic practises. The strength of St Paul's arguments stem from his understanding of superiority of union in the Spirit compared to a mark on the flesh. He had grasped that his past devotion to the Law palled compared to his new association with Jesus Christ. (Thursday).

The Christian's homeland is in heaven, and this should give confidence when rejecting the demands of those who insist on either certain dietary habits or circumcision. The transfiguration of our bodies will be achieved by Christ and not through such practises since it is through Christ alone that the universe will be transformed. (Friday).