Fr Peter’s newsletter notes - December 2006

Posted on December 1st 2006 in Weekly messages

Sunday 3rd December

Preparation for Christmas includes attentive listening to the Word of God.

By the time this newsletter is printed, Pope Benedict will have, God willing, safely returned from his visit to Turkey. Obviously it is too soon to say what effect such a visit might have in terms of Christian-Muslim dialogue or in Turkey’s application to join the European Union. However, one thing is certain, his most vociferous critics and their allies in the extremist press were by and large silenced, not by force of arms but by the force of rhetoric.

One extremist newspaper could only come up with the following criticism of Pope after his visit to the House of Mary at Ephesus, ‘The Pope, who is still has still not apologised for his insolent slanders about Islam and our Holy Prophet, is now using a sneaky tactic and trying to separate the concepts of ‘Muslim’ and ‘Turk’. The Pope had earlier echoed the words of his predecessor, Pope John XXIII, and spoke of Turkey’s place in the history of civilisation, and of the shared values between Christians and Muslims. The evidence from this visit is that, for many parts of the world, it is obvious that the Christian message has only ever been heard second hand. This has a number of causes, anti-Christian propaganda, propagated through the press, the preaching of extremist imams, and those events of the past and present that have besmirched the Church, both in the Middle East and elsewhere. However, where the message is heard, then at least some form of respect might follow. It just may be that radical Islam is not the insuperable force it is made out to be by the secularist chattering classes.

The situation in Western Europe is somewhat different. There is, in the words of a professor from the National University of Ireland in Meynooth a ‘cultural amnesia’ in respect of so many of those aspects of life that are precious to the western mind. The professor was shocked at the vitriol poured out by student and academic alike at a recent public debate on the value of Christianity in the University. What had been lost, in his opinion was any understanding of the formation of the European mind. The concept of the person was not discovered overnight, but came out of the Church’s century-long meditation on Jesus Christ.

This might all seem a long way from preparing for the joy of Christmas during the season of Advent but, when the Church asks us to reflect on the birth of the Saviour, perhaps we need to ask ourselves the question, how much have I simply overheard the Gospel rather than hear it in its fullness? It is unlikely that any of us will change the course of history, but each of us has the divinely charged role to make sure that those with whom we live and associate have at least heard the message of Christ. There is a place in the world, unique to each of us, where Christ has asked us to act, but this is only possible for those who have truly heard the message of Jesus Christ. This message is first and foremost about liberation from sin and all its consequences both personal and communal. This liberation lets the meaning of life shine forth, the unity of love of God and love of neighbour, which reached a definite point in the person of Jesus Christ.

Sunday 17th December

The coming of Christ offers the hope of a shared future, and the rock on which to build life.

Last Friday I was invited to celebrate Mass in the Catholic Church of Mere, South Wiltshire where I grew up. It was the first time I had celebrated Mass there since my ordination. The Church looked as if it hadn’t changed. The fibrous panels were still sagging underneath the corrugated iron roof of the Nissen hut. The same pews, lovingly polished, and the serviceable interior, took me back many years. A number of parishioners, including some former pupils from Downside, had made the effort to come out on Friday evening, but it was obvious that a generation has passed since I was last there in 1982. The following morning I went, along with my mother, to fulfil the duties of filial piety, and visited the graves of my grand-parents, and to tidy up the lavender that was planted there over twenty-five years ago. They looked at rest on that bright morning in the small graveyard. The spirit of the place and tranquillity of the scene brought home to me how grandparents are the nearest any child grasps eternity. They always seem old in the eyes of a child, but they remain the essential contact with a world long past. They form a living tradition between the realms of past family and the present moment.

The Feast of Easter is the feast of the redemption of time, and the prayer for the scoring of the paschal candle at the beginning of the Vigil says that ‘all points of time belong to Him’. However, this embrace of time did not first become visible at Easter but at Christmas. The birth of Christ, and the Word becoming flesh, brings an eternal present into a world of constant flux. Just as grandparents and older relatives anchor each family in history, so the coming of Christ potentially anchors every person, family and people. The stillness of Christmas night reinforces this understanding of the eternal present entering time. For at least once a year the flux of everyday commerce gives way to stillness and peace.

As I stood over the grave cutting out the brambles that had intertwined with the lavender, it became obvious that the vocation of being a grandparent involved the future even if it remained for that particular grandchild obscure. The ‘eternity’ of grandparents with regard to their grandchildren involves not just a relationship with the past but also a future. There are strong parallels with the eternity of God entering time in Bethlehem, now over two thousand years ago, and the subsequent invitation to a shared future. The stillness of Christmas night is not just a transitory moment before the activities, celebrations and mass internal migration up and down the country. It is the reminder that God in Christ also wishes to share the future with us. However, for so long, and for so many, this accompaniment remains either unconscious or is tragically rejected.

These few weeks before Christmas is the time to remind ourselves once again that this shared future offered by Jesus Christ is not just for children, but for each of us whatever age. Our modern imagination is too easily swayed by either a false materialism or its opposite, a faux-spiritualism, and remains largely unable to see the transformation of all time begun at Christmas. Now is the time to grasp this shared future, and the real hope that this entails.

‘When and where is the Liturgy celebrated’ (CCC 1163-1206)

These are the last two questions raised by the Catechism as part of its introduction to each sacrament. The apex of the Liturgical cycle is the Easter Triduum. This gives Sunday its meaning as the Lord’s Day. Easter Sunday is described as the Great Sunday, and this marks the breaking-in of the kingdom of God into historical time. This breaking-in emphasises, in each liturgical celebration, ‘today’ as the ‘hour of Jesus’ Passover’. Every Eucharistic celebration connects with this one sacrifice on the Cross, Resurrection from the dead and outpouring of the Holy Spirit.

The Lord’s Day is thus both the first day of the week, and the final eighth day of rest. It is the day that every Catholic should participate in the Eucharist. Connected with this Passover is the cycle of Our Lord’s Feasts connected with His birth, The Annunciation, Christmas, Epiphany and the Baptism of Our Lord. The cycle of Our Lady Feasts is intimately connected with those of Her Son, and who shares uniquely in the graces flowing from her Son. The Easter Triduum also lies at the heart of all Martyrs and Saints Days, whether Feast or Memorial. The martyr has participated perfectly in the death of Christ, while the saint reveals in his or her life the reality of Jesus’ conquest over death.

The Eucharist is the heart of all Christian worship, but it is not the only way of praising God. The Liturgy of the Hours (Office of Readings, Morning, Midday, Evening and Night Prayer) extends the effect of the Eucharist because the saying of the Divine Office is the work of Christ the High Priest. The Church recites the Office in His name, and this lets the Eucharist penetrate every point of time.

The Liturgy of the Church is obviously celebrated in a Church building, but it is only true because the congregation are living stones building up the House of God. The physical Church is always the visible image of the greater Church. The Catechism emphasises that every Church building should be of ‘good taste and a worthy place’, a statement that has generated much theory and discussion over the ages.

The Infancy narrative according to St Luke (Part 1 ch.1:5-38)

The two accounts of the birth of Jesus Christ, given by St Matthew and St Luke, though agreeing in outline, differ in many of the details. An historian would have an impossible task to identify which details are correct beyond any reasonable doubt. The two Christmas stories have been blended over the years and turned into a seamless narrative. Each Gospel has its distinct viewpoint, but this can be lost when the accounts are amalgamated together.

St Luke’s begins with the figure of Zechariah, and his barren wife, Elizabeth. This pious priestly family is chosen by God, and are the recipients of His grace. Despite their disappointment and shame, they have persevered in following the law. No blame could be attached to them owing to their conduct though, unlike Mary, Zechariah doubts the message of the angel, and is struck dumb. God’s plans however, are not to be thwarted, and Elizabeth does conceive. John (the Baptist), their son, will be filled with the Holy Spirit, and his preaching of repentance will begin with the settling of family discord. The immediacy of the family is where God’s reign will be established, and the small scale of the mission makes it paradoxically applicable to everybody.

Later the angel Gabriel will appear to Mary, and she will be addressed with the words, ‘Hail Mary, full of grace’. This singular greeting shows Mary’s unique position as one already prepared to receive the Holy Spirit, and conceive the child Jesus. This child will fulfil the promises made in the Scriptures and, as the descendant of David, the kingdom of God will definitively be established through Him. The greeting of the angel also points to Mary as the daughter of Zion, and the embodiment of the hope of Israel. Our Lady’s perfectly structured human faith may be seen in her silence at the message, her pondering and questioning of the angel, and her final assent to the will of God. The Annunciation demonstrates the perfect relationship between divine initiative and human response. In this way Mary is the perfect example for every believer.

Fr Peter’s newsletter notes - November 2006

Posted on November 1st 2006 in Weekly messages

Sunday 12th November

A daily experience of God’s presence leads to a better appreciation of the sacraments of the Church

The exhibition of the works of the Spanish painter, Velázquez, at the National Gallery is not large. There are about fifty paintings in total, but within this number there are some exquisite pictures of daily life. There is one of an old woman cooking eggs, which must have been a common scene in Velázquez’ home town of Seville. This picture is not a photo record of folk history but a painting of incredible intensity, and the cooking of the eggs and the expression of concentration of the woman take on an eternal dimension, such that the action seems to take place both inside and outside of time. The picture possesses a sacramental sense, and points to the presence of God in the ordinary activities of life. This sacramental sense is again highlighted when, in another kitchen scene, Jesus is seen through a doorway in the background talking to Mary in Martha’s house, while Martha is in the foreground busy with a pile of plates.

These two pictures together depict both the positive and negative aspects of work. Human work does possess a certain dignity which it receives because the work is carried out by human beings. Work, however, is not the last word on human existence, and its justification and purpose are found beyond the experience of work itself and in the question about the whole of human existence. Mary has perceived this, while Martha has yet to make this leap. The picture shows that Martha’s work is not unnecessary as such, but it is not the most important thing at that moment. It is quite natural, especially in the City environment, to ask what someone does, or where they work. The catch here is that what is not considered ‘work’ as such devalues those engaged in these activities, while too much importance is given to defining the person through their work.

The genius of Velázquez’ paintings of domestic scenes is to show that the service undertaken to look after the household, which is often sadly devalued in today’s society, can in fact be the location of a daily holiness, a sort of day-long sacramental presence. This presence gives the meaning to the task at hand and so becomes the path of holiness for that particular cook, and a similar story could be said about so many other human activities within the home and extended family that make the living of life truly meaningful.

The rich sense of God’s presence in the everyday now becomes a good place to begin to understand the seven sacraments of the Church. These specific moments of grace are on a different plane to the everyday presence so far described. The sacraments were instituted by Christ during His public life and, over time, the Church has established seven of these. However, it takes away nothing of their force to say that they do not exist in a vacuum. They are built upon the sacramental quality of daily life which, unfortunately, too often lies hidden within the business of the everyday. This, I believe, helps understand why attendance at Sunday Mass can seem irrelevant to so many. It is obviously not the only reason; torpor and laziness certainly being among other reasons, but a life devoid of any sacramental presence is not fertile ground for the celebration of the greatest of all sacraments, the Eucharist. It takes the genius of a painter such as Velásquez to make this obvious point. Looking at these pictures suddenly makes clear that Jesus took what is human and everyday to use as the means to transmit His unique love, especially in the Eucharist. The elements for Mass already possess a sacramental sense that can be discovered in the everyday.

Sunday 19th November

The meaning of the end of the world for the Christian is found in the life of Christ

I am sure there are many priests, like myself, scratching their heads wondering what to say of relevance about this Sunday’s readings. The Gospel passage is taken from Jesus’ last public speech about the end of the world, and with all the phenomena that will characterise the final days. Most of us, I am sure, are rather more concerned about the immediate future; the next deadline at work or working out the logistics of ferrying children around at the weekend. The end of the world is hardly relevant in the maelstrom of daily events and crises. Instead it is grasped only in the personal experience of preparation for one’s own death, or the bereavement of a close relative.

As the conscious presence of the end shrinks from the minds of modern men and women,, a central tenet of Jesus’ teaching begins to loose its moorings. Concurrent with this comes the failure to understand and therefore counter religiously motivated violence. If the end of the world means so little to us, it is hardly surprising that the mindset of an Islamic jihadist remains a closed book defying analysis.

The entry point to discover the relevance of the end of the world for the Christian is a return to the beginning. The first words of St Mark’s Gospel are, ‘The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is near at hand’. This oblique announcement as to Jesus’ identity shows the believer that God has entered history, and consequently eternity has entered time. The flow of history now contains within itself the fullness of time. This fullness was prepared throughout the Old Testament and, in Jesus, God has spoken His final word. His search for us has reached a conclusion. Now the incredible claim of Christianity is that every moment of time potentially contains this divine fullness, the active presence of God working through the Holy Spirit.

The Church, therefore, understands the end as already beginning in the birth of Jesus, and which will be firmly established through His death and resurrection. Jesus Christ is the definitive word as to the nature of God, and to the nature of our humanity. There can be no further revelations as to the nature of God or man without compromising the identity of Jesus Christ as true God and true man.

The daily struggles and activities of life for the Christian must therefore be marked by an ‘eschatological vigilance’, as one theologian describes the situation. The reality of the end of the world places at the forefront the question of meaning, as to the reason ‘why we do what we do’. The Church places the utmost importance on this life, which is no dress-rehearsal for something different or better. A consciousness of the end gives an edge to our decision-making and encourages one to make a more committed choice of doing good and avoiding evil. This heightened consciousness is an excellent antidote to the wasting of time, whether in its old fashioned means or in its high-tech form of google, youtube and round robin emails. The end raises a question about the present moment and gives it the due importance it deserves. So much of life can pass by without a care for its origin and end in God. The Christ-filled moment is the full moment, and consequently living according to His commands will permit a greater share in this fullness. This will ultimately lead to our greater happiness because, paraphrasing St Augustine, our hearts are lost till they find their home in Christ.

Sunday 26th November

The kingdom of Christ is not brute power but revealed in the search for truth.

The liturgical year ends with the Feast of Christ the King, a largely forgotten event that hardly registers in the run up to Christmas. This feast is of relatively recent origin as it was established by Pius XI to counter act the corrosive effects of fascism and secular thought in the 1930s. The lack of any obvious connection to an event in the life of Jesus, not celebrated in other liturgical seasons, means that for most Catholics the solemnity passes without much thought. The Feast of the Epiphany and the Solemn Liturgy of Good Friday speak more clearly as Feasts of Christ’s kingship. The focus of this Sunday is strangely less on Christ, and more on His followers. Christ is the universal king, but we, as believers, are therefore His subjects. There is now little in the world to acquaint ourselves with the meaning of the divine right of kings. This is all a matter of history. The modern state might require our allegiance or least our tacit support, but any sense of absolute moral obligation to the ruling monarch has largely disappeared. The present Queen of Great Britain deserves our allegiance more because of her incredible sense of duty than any right she might possess of herself.

Yet this is exactly what Christ demands of us, an unswerving allegiance owing to His person, because through His person He has revealed the truth, about God, about our self and about the world. The kingship of Christ is based not on military power but on the truth, and therefore His kingdom is not of this world, because truth finds its ultimate source and conclusion in God the Creator. Jesus claims to bear ‘witness to the truth’, and his authority to do so is as Son of God. The difficulty of trying to make sense of his kingship is due to the lack of any common understanding of the meaning of truth. The Greek word for truth literally means ‘to uncover’, or ‘to reveal’ while the Hebrew word means ‘to be firm, to be loyal’. Therefore to speak the truth for the ancient Greeks is to conceal nothing. Greek thought and religion was concerned with the search for truth, of passing from the world of surface images to one of deeper reality, and ultimately to God. The influence of Greek thought is seen in the Wisdom Books of the Old Testament. Later St John will remember the words of Jesus, ‘the truth will set you free’. This is not very different from the Hebrew concept of God as stable and unchanging. The idea of truth as ‘remaining firm’ and trusting in, or leaning on, God requires discernment below the level of the everyday.

The access to the truth therefore demands a relationship between believer and God. This relationship remains largely unconscious day by day for most people. Neither the daily pace of modern life nor the agnostic viewpoint lend themselves to continuous reflection. However to step aside from the constant flow of activity will make anyone aware that speaking the truth implies relationship between speaker and listener. The old City adage, ‘my word is my bond’ is only made possible through a trusting relationship between two people, a state of affairs which unfortunately seems to becoming more of a rarity these days.

Jesus tells Pilate that He ‘bears witness to the truth’. This He does by revealing His divinity through what He said and did in his humanity. In this way a relationship is built up between Jesus and believer which is described as faith, because it penetrates beneath the surface of His humanity to grasp that Jesus is indeed the Son of God. The believer is confident in placing His trust, of literally leaning on Christ because He is the access to and source of all truth. Jesus becomes King in terms of truth to those who recognise Him as Son of God, and so long after earthly dynasties fall away the kingdom of God continues silently to grow un-noticed and un-observed.

‘The Paschal Mystery in the Church’s sacraments’ (CCC 1113-1134)

The Catechism began its section on the Liturgy by defining it, the celebration of the sacraments, as the work of God. This was explained in terms of the work of Christ and the work of the Holy Spirit. Before the content of each sacrament is outlined in turn, the Catechism sets out to explain the doctrinal elements common to all.

The seven sacraments are all the work of the Church, which is itself the sacrament of Christ, making visible His presence through the action of the Holy Spirit. These seven sacraments are works of the Church, as every believer recognises each Sunday. The sacraments also constitute her nature, and the Church becomes the place to meet God. This ability to meet Christ is possible because every Christian shares in Christ’s priesthood. The ordained priesthood also continues the work of the apostles who were handed by Christ the mandate to preach and celebrate the sacraments to all the nations.

The celebration of the sacraments involves by necessity the duty to evangelise, because the sacraments need faith for their reception. The Word of God must be preached, especially that of the death and resurrection of Jesus to the believer, and accepted by him or her in faith. The new Christian is welcomed into an already believing Church, which possesses in itself perfect faith as it is the mystical body of Christ, and so of necessity must accept her liturgical practices. The Church has always maintained that the ‘law of prayer is the law of belief’. The concomitant responsibility also lies with the clergy not to change the way the sacraments are celebrated because this would be tantamount to tampering with the beliefs of the Church.

Each sacrament is ultimately the work of God acting through a minister, normally the priest. The validity of the sacrament is not dependent on the moral qualities of the priest but, just as the disposition of the recipient determines their receptivity of grace, so the minister has a duty to celebrate the sacraments with dignity and integrity.

‘The Paschal Mystery in the Church’s sacraments’ (CCC 1135-)

The Catechism now moves from general comments about the Liturgy to answer four specific questions about its celebration within the Church. The first of these questions is, ‘Who celebrates the Sacraments?’ The ultimate answer is found in the heavenly Liturgy which forms the foundation of every earthly celebration of the Sacraments. This might be the furthest from anyone’s mind when entering Church on Sunday, but it is the necessary ground for any true celebration. The Book of Revelation gives a vivid account of this heavenly liturgy. The throne of the Lamb (the image of Jesus Christ) stands at the centre of the heavenly Jerusalem and out from the base flows living water (the image of the Holy Spirit) which animates every earthly Liturgy. Around the throne stand in sequence the martyrs and all the faithful. The whole Christ, in other words the Church, is the chief celebrant at every Liturgy. Consequently there can be no really private liturgy. They are all public works of the Church, and so the fruits of each particular liturgy are applied to the whole Church. (Hence the current practice of saying Mass for the dead). The Second Vatican Council called for ‘a full, conscious and active participation of all the faithful’. This does not mean everyone has to have something ‘to do’ other than attend Mass, but rather it is a recognition that participation in Mass through the responses to the prayers is a participation in the one liturgy of heaven.

Every religion uses signs and symbols from the created and human world to communicate religious realities. These respond to the physical and social nature of humanity. They build on the implicit sacramentality of the created order which points towards its Creator. The Church takes this up, and uses signs and symbols for its own divine purposes. Jesus used them to communicate His message of salvation: the laying on of hands, the blessing of bread, the use of water and oil, etc. These actions were always accompanied by His Word in order to elicit a response in faith and a moral conversion. Hence every sacrament in the Church is accompanied by the Word of God for the very same reasons.

‘How to celebrate the Liturgy’ (CCC 1153-1162)

Every sacrament uses signs and symbols, some that are part of the common heritage of humanity, and others specific to the traditions of the Jews, as mentioned the previous week. However each liturgical celebration is accompanied by the Word of God, which should invoke the response of faith. The Word instructs the faithful on what is being celebrated, as well as being the vehicle by which the celebration of the sacrament is brought to fruition through the action of the Holy Spirit.

The essential quality of the Word for every sacrament therefore gives liturgical chant prime position amongst Christian forms of art. The use of chant has been an integral part of worship from at least the time of Moses, and the singing of the psalms has continues to this day in the daily prayer of the Church. St Augustine wept at the sound of Christian hymns, ‘those sounds flowed into my ears, distilling the truth in my heart’. The catechism emphasises the spiritual importance of chant and hymns, but with the caveat that all such chants and hymns should confirm to catholic doctrine and be faithful to liturgical sources; a counsel unfortunately lost in the immediate years after the Second Vatican Council (1962-1965)

The catechism concludes this section on ‘how to celebrate the Liturgy’ with some comments on religious art. The Second Council of Nicaea (AD 787) finally settled the Iconoclast dispute. The invisible God had become visible in Jesus Christ, and therefore it was just to depict the mysteries of Christ and the events of His life in painted form. This applies equally well to icons as well as to our tradition of western narrative painting. The birth of Islam during the iconoclast controversy as well as their belief in the utter transcendence of God explains why no pictorial art is possible, and hence Islamic art is by and large restricted to very beautiful complex interlocking geometrical forms, whether in marble, mosaic or carpet.

Fr Peter’s newsletter notes - October 2006

Posted on October 1st 2006 in Weekly messages

Sunday 1st October

The angels form a spiritual tent above us and, as God’s messengers, reveal His nature

This time of year is the season of angels for the Church. Friday was the Feast of Archangels and Monday 2nd October is the Feast of Guardian Angels. Most of us probably relegate angels to Christmas; the angels of the Christmas story and the ever expandable cast of angels of the primary school nativity play. Yet angels are not simply the preserve of Christmas or mythology. They form the invisible spiritual panoply that cloaks all creation. I think it was Paul Simon who sang about ‘angels in the architecture’. Was he referring to the exuberance of baroque art and architecture, where angels witness the celebration of Mass and the major events of revelation as painted on numerous ceilings, such the triumph of the Cross and the Coronation of Our Lady in heaven? I am not sure but, for the Christian, they are an essential, but invisible, part of the created order. Angels guard the presence of God in his holy court; angels, like invisible hands, guard our daily lives, and are the messengers of God, assisting in bringing God’s progressive revelation forward.

The Church teaches that at the origin of time, a number of angels, Lucifer being the only named, rebelled against God. Their sin was failing to recognise their rightful place in the created order. They wanted to become like God and having no chance to change their rebellion is perpetual. This battle between the good and rebel angels forms the cosmic backdrop to the struggles that every believer encounters in his or her daily life. The angelic rebellion is mirrored in our own sins of pride which, in essence, is rejecting our created nature, and the authority of God. Every person has to learn to become good. It is not an activity that always comes naturally and, for those people who can be described as good, there has probably been a long private struggle in the background about which we often know very little.

The angels celebrated on Friday are the Archangels. These angels are God’s special messengers, who speak His mind and who each have a key role in advancing God’s revelation of Himself. The three archangels mentioned in the Scriptures, Michael, Raphael and Gabriel, each reveal an essential facet of who is God. The first, Michael, reveals God’s complete otherness. He guards the gates of paradise. Sin has no place in heaven, and so the ungodly must be kept out of God’s sight. It is not until the resurrection and ascension of Jesus Christ that the gates of heaven will be opened again, and the just assume their place in the kingdom of God.

The second archangel, Raphael, as recorded in the Book of Tobit has a beneficial role in making possible the marriage of Tobias and Raguel, despite all human and spiritual adversities they encounter on the way. This archangel, I would like to think, guards the human measure, and the fuller image of God that should be found in marriage. Lastly, the archangel Gabriel brings the message of the good news to Zechariah about the birth of John the Baptist, and to the Virgin Mary who will give birth to the Saviour, Jesus. Gabriel shows the love of God for His creation, and His desire to communicate with us and save us through one like us. Jesus Christ is both the otherness of God, and the perfect human measure, made visible in the flesh, and so He is the consummation of all good angelic activity. Indeed he far surpasses them, as Jesus is raised to right-hand side of the Father.

Sunday 8th October

The example of marriage and the rejection of second best is the way for the Church.

The recent history of the family seems to be one of continued decline, with over a third of marriages now ending in separation or divorce, and with the incredible statistic that 40% of births are now outside wedlock. Virtually none of these births are to Muslim families, so one can only assume that this sad statistic comes out of the wreckage of a post- Christian society. One does not have to be a Christian to see that every child would benefit from a stable family, but we also know cases of children who have grown up in the most difficult of circumstances, managed to keep a grip on reality, and not succumb to the culture of blame. These facts make speaking about the family, both within society and even within the Church, such a sensitive issue. This is not about giving up on the ideal of marriage in front of the myriad lifestyles and fractured families that everyone comes across, or to which one might already belong. The Book of Genesis is quite clear that the union of husband and wife sits at the heart of creation. Two accounts are given, the first about God taking a rib from Adam to make him a worthy companion, and the second account giving a more philosophical understanding of marriage, ‘God made man in his own image, male and female. He made them. That is why a man must leave his house…’. This though is marriage within the Garden of Eden, so does the same situation hold after the Fall?

Jesus, in this Sunday’s Gospel both agrees and disagrees and, through this double answer, leads us to the heart of the issue. The hardness of heart that every sinner exhibits, to a lesser or greater extent, makes all commitments difficult to fulfil. This covers every aspect of life from minor errand to life-long marriage. Every study shows that marriage is good for society, as politicians ceaselessly point out to the electorate. Yet every politician needs the votes of saint and sinner alike. Both have equal weight. Hence the subject is hedged about with qualifications, and perhaps rightly so. Single mothers, for instance, must have at sometime known presently absent fathers. An absent father can never be a cultural norm because it runs contrary to natural law, the law of creation. It is much better evidence for the nature of sin that can lie at the heart of any society. However, it is patently unfair for society to blame the single mother, because often this criticism carries with it the implied judgement that this single mother should have had an abortion for stupidly getting pregnant.

The collapse in the number of couples seeking marriage rather than simply living together, and the increase of children born outside wedlock, are evidence of the acceptance of sin as the norm, and therefore acceptance of mediocrity as a goal in human life. It is all part of a spiritually risk-adverse culture which prefers to settle for the cultural norm rather than reach for the sky and seek sanctity. As the Church tells, though how many are listening remains questionable, this was never the intention of God. Jesus says to the Pharisees in this Sunday’s Gospel that the reason Moses allowed divorce was because ‘they were so un-teachable’. The same resistance to Christ’s teaching exists today, and unfortunately this is also true of some members of the Church today. This resistance entails the rejection of the power of grace to assist frail human nature to fulfil the commitment to marriage. Today the better approach must be to believe in the full possibilities of marriage. This is not about singling out happily married families, but of every baptise person remaining convinced that the openness to the commitment that marriage entails brings out the best in the human person. The depths of the spirit and of character are never going to be revealed though moral lassitude, however much it might be embraced by the governing classes keen on the votes of saint and sinner alike.

Sunday 15th October

The proposal offered to the rich young man by Jesus can become an example for every parent.

Every week seems to bring with it another horror statistic about our nation’s state schools. It must now be at least ten years since I last visited a primary school, but I do find it difficult to believe that education can be quiet as bad as it is portrayed in the press. However a recent survey caught my eye about how many children find it difficult to speak when they first start school. The Archbishop of Canterbury, remarked that the blame for such a state of affairs could not be laid at the foot of either the children or the teachers. Language is something learnt through extended conversation and not just through formal lessons. He went on to remark that two forces seem to be at work here, a government which demands that single parents go out to work, whether this is better for the child or not, and the insatiable desire for economic prosperity that mitigates against time spent with children. Yet only a month ago a report was published to promote the abolition of GCSE coursework because too much is being written by parents amongst others. It must be hard to know what to do a s a parent. The present lack of a commonly agreed norm for the right amount of time to attend to family life, the requisite material possessions for life, the appropriate amount of assistance for homework, makes for a lot of confusion. We are left to establish this measure for ourselves, and though this might superficially look like an exercise of freedom, it more often than not leads to sense of disorientation, and feelings of guilt and inadequacy. We do not know what is appropriate and in this fog of uncertainty, find it far too easy to confirm to the mores of the day, or to enter the jungle of parental competition.

There are a number of parallels to this situation with the young man in this Sunday’s Gospel. He initially asks Jesus about how to inherit eternal life. Jesus gives him the information, follow the ten commandments, but in moment, of what can only seem like overconfidence, the young man states that he already knows this and remarkably has kept them. He feels. despite all this. that something is lacking. Jesus in reply tells the young man that perfection entails going to sell everything and come follow me. The young man has reached the limit of his own achievement, and now has to let go for Christ to take charge. Like his modern counterpart, the young man in the Gospel needs more than the bare words of the commandments, just as the child needs more than an abundance of toys and a roof over his or her head. Both need accompaniment though life. Jesus offers it to the young man, as he does to us. Every believer needs both the moral law to guide his or her choices day by day, but also needs the friendship of God and companionship of other believers to complete the journey. This friendship does not to replace the personal need to make the correct choices. This method is not permission for an abnegation of responsibility. Jesus Christ, as our companion through life, mysteriously permits us to make the wrong decisions but always gives us both the grace to repent and the grace to make the right choice.

By analogy the same must be true for parents, who accompany their child through their life, but like Christ need to steer a midway course between a day to day abandonment and an over-protectiveness. Both are the result of the unfortunate combination of the economic situation today and the guilt caused by a lack of a commonly agreed moral code. It is all too easy to swing from one extreme to the other. The method of Christ as proposed to the rich young man and to the disciples is of a creative accompaniment that allows the disciple or child to make the right choices in the different situations they find themselves.

Sunday 22nd October

The transformation of chivalry by St Francis is an inspiration to take up the cause of Christ.

Last Tuesday I was very pleased to be able to attend the launch of a book entitled ‘Gospel Chivalry’ by Fr Mark Elvins, OFM Cap, or Mark of Whitstable, a name more in keeping with the Franciscan spirit of the occasion. The book charts how St Francis transformed the world of courtly chivalry into a chivalry for Christ. The knight was duty bound to look after the weak, especially in the art of war. Many of the codes of chivalry were meant to protect combatants and the innocent from the degradations of war. The knight in peaceful times would struggle to complete valiant tasks in pursuit of unrequited love. St Francis lived in this world of passing troubadours, pious legends and poems of courtly love. These were the mainstay of his imagination, but a local conflict between Perugia and Assisi, in which he was captured, made him see that courtly chivalry could not mask the reality of war.

During this time St Francis discerned, through a series of dreams and revelations, the possibility of turning all this upside down and, instead of aiming to become a knight to a servant, even as one as eminent as the captain of the Papal Army, he sought to become a knight to the master. Jesus was to be his true liege Lord. He saw that the care for the weak, and the commands of chivalry to feed the hungry or house the homeless, should not to be done as a member of the ‘majores’, but out of solidarity with the ‘minores’ themselves. Feudal society distinguished between the two orders, and accepted that chivalry was appropriate to the aristocracy, the ‘majores’ only. Instead, this order of friars ‘minores’ was to pursue and embrace ‘Lady Poverty’ with the same intensity as the knight pursued his love through trials and endurance. This recognisable transformation of chivalry was probably one of the reasons why most of St Francis’ first followers came from the local nobility.

Fr Elvins’ ends with the story of a remarkable Englishman, John Bradburne, a native of Cumberland, the ‘crazy poet’ and ‘upper class tramp’ who embodied the chivalric spirit of St Francis. His experience in Burma during the Second World War, of the simultaneous beauty of the place and people, as well as the tragedy of war, drew out of him an intense love of nature and compassion, so that he would spend his time tending the sick and dying. Many years later he decided to spend the last years of his life in Zimbabwe. Originally he lived as a hermit, praying to be surrounded by bees to guarantee his solitude, a request that was granted. For the last ten years prior to his martyrdom, he looked after a colony of abandoned lepers with great devotion and humour. He treated them with such respect that he caused resentment among various officials as he refused to cut their rations, or to tag them. He would do nothing to demean them and, with the general collapse of law and order during the civil war, was shot by his detractors. This Third Order Franciscan lived the chivalric ideal, of committing great acts of sacrifice out of love, to the God who shows us infinite love.

Traditional chivalry had been used to hide the carnage of mediaeval warfare, but in a great reversal, St Francis did not shrink from the external horror of the Cross and suffering in the world, ‘but let that outpouring of divine love direct his heart to an inner beauty of loving redemption’. The Gospel, as the author of the book says, ‘acknowledges the beauty of truth in the reality of poverty and sacrifice’ and, in the eyes of St Francis and his followers, ‘worldly romance’ becomes infused with spiritual meaning in order to attract what is worldly into ambience of redemption.

Sunday 29th October

The time to stand up for the truth is revealed in the small things of daily life

At the beginning of Evelyn Waugh’s ‘Sword of Honour’ trilogy there is a remarkable passage on this human necessity for saints. Guy Crouchback, the hero, was about to return to England in 1939 to enlist in the British Army, the horror of the modern age having become so clearly revealed in the alliance between Fascism and Communism. Prior to leaving his beloved villa, he visits the Parish Church to pray at the tomb of ‘il santo inglese’, a long forgotten English knight. Here the locals prayed and, despite the local clergy’s remonstrations, brought their troubles to the tomb of Sir Roger de Waybrook. This knight, a crusader, had been diverted by an Italian baron to attack a rival’s castle and had been killed in the process. The knight now lay far from home having never reached the tomb of Christ. Instead he had himself become a place of pilgrimage and prayer. There are countless saints like him ‘canonised’ by local cult and acclamation, centuries before the official processes of the Church had been established. Waugh’s target is not the dry process of canonisation but of the inability and refusal of the modern world both to recognise the possibility of sanctity in daily life and supernatural order that can be filled with so much unexpected virtue.

The saints are the countless multitude who reflect in their lives the hidden purposes of God. These purposes will always remain opaque to the non-believer because their lives are the embodiment of virtues rejected by the world. In many ways the saint is a character in a novel with God as the ultimate author. The cult of the saints has over time purified the script to reveal just the essentials of a life-long commitment to God. The genius of the Church was to associate one image with each particular saint. Hence St Roche has his faithful dog who sucked out the snake’s venom from his leg, St Lawrence carries his gridiron, St Apollionare her teeth on a plate. The saints also transcend the boundary between the visible and the invisible Church, and form the backdrop to the link between Christ and every believer.

Guy Crouchback, Waugh’s hero, could see in the ‘il santo inglese’ the qualities he would require to fight in the modern age. Today the battle comes in a different form and the saints we now admire display other characteristics. What has remained constant over time is the recognition of the human need for heroes which, through the Church, is transformed with grace into prayer to the saints. I always find it strangely moving, standing at the tomb of an unknown saint, in that here was someone who did believe, who did live the Gospel in grace and, more often that not, someone who died a lonely death for a truth not fully grasped and in a place probably a long way from home. The saint tells us that the pursuit of a ‘second best’ morality is never good enough, and to seek continually the courage necessary to stand up for the truth, even in the small things of daily life. The Church calls us all to sanctity, a difficult but not impossible task, since sanctity is not the celebration of our own efforts but the prior recognition of grace operating in our lives. More often than not this grace reveals itself in the most surprising situations and is transmitted by the most unlikely of people. The saints of the Church were not men or women who lacked imagination.

‘I believe in life everlasting’ (CCC 1015-1041)

The Catechism begins this section with the prayer for the dying which states that the believer is uniting his or her death with that of Jesus Christ, and so enters into everlasting life with Him. Death is the choice either for or against Christ and, as Jesus explains in the parable of the rich man and Lazarus, there is an immediate judgement after death, as to whether the soul is heaven bound or heading for damnation. The final judgement, and the resurrection of the dead, will come at the end of time, when our souls will be joined to our resurrected bodies, either ‘to share a communion of life and love with the Trinity, Mary and the Saints’, which is heaven; or to experience the complete absence of God which is Hell.

The concept of Hell as the absence of God probably means little to those who do not believe in God but, even so, Hell remains a real destination after death. This ties in with the Church’s teaching that to reject God in this life is indeed culpable since the existence of God is obvious from creation. God desires our love but will not force it, but love once given has to be reflected in real life. This love counts for little when the believer lives a life of sin, or when he or she has never attended to the needs of the poor. The Church puts the utmost importance on the moral decisions of this life. There is no second chance after death.

When Jesus told his disciples that ‘all sins can be forgiven, other than those against the Holy Spirit, either in this age or the age to come’, He alluded to the state of purgatory which is the place where the believer is progressively purified and ultimately to meet God face to face. Salvation is assured from the moment of death but the believer is not ready to receive the beatific vision, the full revelation of God. The Church has continually prayed for those who have died, especially during the Eucharistic Prayer, as the Church celebrates the death and resurrection of Jesus.

The celebration of the Christian Mystery (CCC 1066-1075) An introduction

The subject matter of the Catechism now passes from the Creed to the Liturgy. The doctrinal section followed an organised path which is described in the Church as ‘the economy of salvation’, or in other words the logical unfolding of God’s revelation. This reaches its climax in the Paschal Mystery, a term which describes the death, Resurrection, Ascension of Jesus and the descent of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. This ‘Paschal Mystery’ is communicated to the believer not through abstract thought alone but through the liturgical actions of the Church. The outpouring of blood and water from the side of the crucified Christ is the beginning of the sacramental system and symbolic of the worship of the Church. Every liturgical action in the Church is a continuation and specific application of this mystery to the situation today, whether it is Mass or grace before meals.

The term ‘Liturgy’ literally means public work’, and ‘service in the name of the people’. The Church does this ‘public work’ in the name of Jesus Christ through sharing His priesthood. This priesthood of Christ is not inward but outward looking so involves a necessary evangelisation and commitment to charity. The Eucharist, is not the only liturgical action in the Church, but is described as the summit and source of the Christian life. It is the summit because the Eucharist builds on a prior evangelisation (including the essential teaching of why we do what we do) and conversion to a new way of life. The Eucharist is also the source because it is the specific application of Jesus’ saving death to the life of the community, Church and individual. This liturgical action animates every aspect of the Church’s life. As the summit and source of the Church’s public work, it is the privileged place for teaching the faith. The celebration of the sacraments makes present the doctrines and moral teachings of the Church. The visible signs of every sacrament, and thus the correct use of the liturgical rubrics should draw the believer into the mystery of Jesus Christ. This is the reason why freelance changes to the liturgical norms are deprecated by the Church, and are resented by laypeople who have the sense that Christ’s work is not being properly carried out.

‘The sacramental economy’ (CCC 1076-???)

The public life of the Church began on Pentecost with the descent of the Holy Spirit on to the apostles. From that moment Jesus Christ communicates his salvation, which is the fruit of His death and Resurrection through the Liturgy of the Church. The structure of this new way of imparting sacramental grace is described as the ‘sacramental economy’.

There is a two way movement of blessing in the Christian liturgical act. God blesses the believer through Christ, the tangible expression of His love, and the believer offers blessing to the Father through Jesus Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit. This two way dialogue of blessing and response may be seen in the Old Testament where God continually blesses His chosen people in particular ways such as the Passover/Exodus, the election of David, etc. These and other blessings were recalled in their liturgy through sacrifice and adoration to God as their source.

The Christian dispensation follows a similar line, but Jesus Christ has a pivotal role of being both the visible blessing of God and the perfect human response to that unique blessing. Jesus Christ is therefore at the heart of every liturgical action within the Church. He has sent His Holy Spirit into His Body and now Christ acts through the sacraments. The sacraments are points of blessing for the faithful, and communicate the ‘Paschal Mystery’ (a theological term used to express what Jesus achieved through His death and resurrection). This mystery was an historical event that does not remain in the past, but occupies all times because it is an action of God, and so is communicable today within the Church.

The preaching of the Apostles continues that of Christ and in their turn passed this on to their successors. This continuity within the Church gives structure to the liturgical life. Christ is always present to accomplish this sacramental presentation of God’s blessing and of the believers’ response to that blessing. Christ works through the priest, the minister and where ‘two or three are gathered together’.

The Role of the Holy Spirit in the Liturgy (CCC 1091-1112)

The Catechism moves from the role of Jesus Christ in the Liturgy to that of the Holy Spirit. These roles are distinguished for the sake of clarity of explanation but in reality God’s action always remains one, and the participant in the Church’s Liturgy is drawn up into the life of the Trinity. The Holy Spirit’s role is divided by the Catechism into three parts, the preparation of the faithful to receive Christ, to act as the Church’s living memory, and to effect a living bond with God.

The presence of the Spirit in the liturgical practices of the Jews was a preparation to receive Christ in today’s liturgy. This is why the Church reads the Old Testament, and uses the psalms for her prayer, and why the Our Father and the Eucharistic prayer follow Jewish prototypes. The readings for the Easter Vigil, which celebrates the resurrection of Christ, embrace the major events in the life of the Jewish people. The Holy Spirit also prepares each believer individually through a conversion of heart to listen to the Word of God and to receive the graces derived from every liturgical celebration. This leads to the second aspect of the Holy Spirit’s work in the Liturgy, that of being the ‘living memory’ of the Church. Every liturgical action of the Church is a memorial of what Jesus achieved through His life, death and resurrection. The Holy Spirit illuminates the minds and hearts of believers to understand the fuller meaning of these events. This in turn elicits from the believer a response in faith of thanksgiving for the work of Christ and a re-commitment to live as Christ.

Lastly, the Holy Spirit makes the Paschal Mystery (death and resurrection of Jesus) present in the Liturgy. The calling down of the Holy Spirit (called the epiclesis) makes every sacrament a celebration of that one unique event. The sacraments can be repeated but the original event remains forever unique. The graces flowing from the death and Resurrection of Jesus Christ are applied to the individual and community. The Mass celebrated for a particular community is thus linked through the Holy Spirit to the one sacrifice on the Cross.

‘The Paschal Mystery in the Church’s sacraments’ (CCC 1113-1134)

The Catechism began its section on the Liturgy by defining it, the celebration of the sacraments, as the work of God. This was explained in terms of the work of Christ and the work of the Holy Spirit. Before the content of each sacrament is outlined in turn, the Catechism sets out to explain the doctrinal elements common to all.

The seven sacraments are all the work of the Church, which is itself the sacrament of Christ, making visible His presence through the action of the Holy Spirit. These seven sacraments are works of the Church, as every believer recognises each Sunday. The sacraments also constitute her nature, and the Church becomes the place to meet God. This ability to meet Christ is possible because every Christian shares in Christ’s priesthood. The ordained priesthood also continues the work of the apostles who were handed by Christ the mandate to preach and celebrate the sacraments to all the nations.

The celebration of the sacraments involves by necessity the duty to evangelise, because the sacraments need faith for their reception. The Word of God must be preached, especially that of the death and resurrection of Jesus to the believer, and accepted by him or her in faith. The new Christian is welcomed into an already believing Church, which possesses in itself perfect faith as it is the mystical body of Christ, and so of necessity must accept her liturgical practices. The Church has always maintained that the ‘law of prayer is the law of belief’. The concomitant responsibility also lies with the clergy not to change the way the sacraments are celebrated because this would be tantamount to tampering with the beliefs of the Church.

Each sacrament is ultimately the work of God acting through a minister, normally the priest. The validity of the sacrament is not dependent on the moral qualities of the priest but, just as the disposition of the recipient determines their receptivity of grace, so the minister has a duty to celebrate the sacraments with dignity and integrity.