Recently in our Moral Theology class we have been studying the problem of evil and how we can go about explaining how/why a good God could allow evil to exist in His creation. In my Trinity Seminar we have been considering (guess what) the mystery of the Trinity. In both these cases we have been able to make some headway into answering this mystery: for instance, when speaking about the problem of evil, logically, we can see how in our free-will we often choose the bad, we choose to hurt others, ourselves, or otherwise put something else as "god" in our lives, and thus, necessarily find ourselves incomplete. In a similar way, we can come to some understanding of the Trinity: moving from the revealed truth of Jesus as the Son of the Father, who together promise to send the Spirit. From here we are able to delve deeper into this mystery - God is one in substance and nature (this is what God is: perfect, eternal, infinite, etc. The three persons are consubstantial in that they all have this same divine nature in its completeness), and, at the same time, God is three persons (this is, sort of, who God is: the three differentiated, not by differences in essence, but in relations of origin. In other words, the persons are only differentiated by the relationships of love that they have with one another - the Father in giving Himself completely to the Son (perfect Father), the Son in totally loving and obeying the Father (perfect Son), and the Holy Spirit in being passively spirated by both of them (perfect Spirit)). Obviously, both of these answers are unsatisfactory: "why doesn't God just eliminate evil?", "but how are there 3 "parts" (so it seems) in one, perfect, unity?"
What I have realized this past week is that, though these mysteries remain because of our own weakness and limitations, it is into these very mysteries that God wants to enter and illuminate. The trigger for this realization was a picture I saw on Facebook this past week. The Sacristan at a church a couple hours north of my home-town found a host on the floor, and, as he should have, carefully preserved the host and notified the deacon, who placed it in a container of water. This way, if the host was consecrated, it would dissolve, and could thereby be disposed of properly (and if it wasn't consecrated, no harm done). However, when the Deacon came back a couple days later, assuming the host would have disintegrated completely, he found instead a mass of blood in the midst of the water. Eucharistic miracles aren't just medieval happenings, the result of over-active (or naive) imaginations of people "back then"!
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So, what do all these points have in common? All these "things" - the presence of evil, God, and the Eucharist - are mysteries, they are beyond our limited understanding, but, in all of them, God wants to enter that mystery and drive away all that lacks His presence.
Into evil God wishes to enter and transform with His love. In the suffering of someone who has lost a loved one, God desires to fill their heart with the peace of His promise of eternal life to those who love Him. To the person who has fallen into sin, God wishes to forgive that sin and "resuscitate" that soul, reinvigorating them with His joy and love once more. To the hill of Calvary, where evil seemed to have its "greatest" victory, where the greatest physical pain, the greatest injustice, and the greatest abandonment came together: God is present, He became man just to enter that moment and prove once and for all the abundance, and omnipotence, of His love.
What about the unknowns that we have about God? He becomes man to bring us to that Truth, to Himself. Why? Because we are made in the image of God, we are meant to become more like Him. Our categories, our rational ways of explaining the Trinity, our analogies, aren't so much us getting closer to the truth regarding God - every analogy, falls hopefully short of the true grandure and awesomeness of God - but these thoughts aren't pointless. Our drawing closer to God leads to our own fulfillment, our intellectual working towards the Trinity does get us to a closer idea of what we are supposed to be. God shows Himself, as Father, Son, and Spirit, as perfect love in mutual, completely generous, relationships. We are supposed to be that way too! Augustine in his De Trinitate ("On the Trinity") looks inside of ourselves to catch of the glimpse of the Trinity, as it is in Itself. He moves from (but retains) the "economic" idea of the Trinity that we find evident in the Scriptures (of the Father as creator, the Son as redeemer, and the Spirit as sanctifier), to a more metaphysical [read: essential] understanding of God. He shows that just as our mind has memory, intellect, and will, and goes in that order: we remember something, think about it, and then decide to act in some way regarding it, so the Trinity has Father, Son, and Spirit. Both sets of 3 work in an order (the Father eternally begets the Son, and from both of them the Holy Spirit proceeds), but the first "part" doesn't exist without the other; as soon as we remember something we think about it and act on it, as "soon" (eternally) as the Father exists, so does the Son and the Spirit. So, this exercise does reveal something about God because He has revealed that we are images of Him, but our mental capacity is still limited, so we'll never understand the Trinity completely. (We are always stuck, so to speak, looking at God from one "direction", either we see Him as one, perfect unity, or three, in the three persons, we can't quite wrap our head around the mystery completely). End of story? No! Where God sees a lack of goodness (in this case, knowledge of Him), He wants to fill that lack with Himself, with His truth, with His love. We are imperfect images of God, so, Christ comes as our savior and redeemer, to save and redeem us. To reform us back into more perfect images of Him (and the entire Trinity). Jesus not only directly reveals to us the truths of God, He also tells us to "love one another as I have loved you" (John 13:34). This isn't just a moral commandment, this is a map to our true end, God Himself. In Jesus' loving death for us, He redeems us, and in His calling us to the same sacrificial-love, He pulls us closer to God. Recap: In our weakness itself, in our lack of imaging God, God wants to forgive us and make us again in His image. In our lack of knowledge, Jesus comes to reveal more about God!
Finally, in the third situation, that of the Eucharistic miracle, God aids our all-too-often weak faith with a miracle making His presence obvious. This is the case with all Our Lord's miracles: He not only heals the sick, and forgives the sinner (mystery 1: destroying evil), but He also does them to make obvious to us His divinity (mystery 2: revealing God) and showing His true, complete, incredible, presence in His sacraments, priests, and Church (mystery 3: Eucharist). God is so good! In the Eucharist miracle at Orvietto (which is a couple-hour train ride from Rome, and I will see for the second time at Corpus Christi), the priest was suffering from doubts about Our Lord's presence in the Eucharist. Sometimes we have the same doubts! "Lord, are you really there? I can't see you." Yes He is! In that miracle, as in the one that took place a couple days ago in Illinois, the host - for all appearances a piece of bread - began to bleed! He is truly there!
Jesus looks at us poor doubting sinners with the same eyes of love that gazed on His apostles "O ye of little faith". He wants to fill every place of evil, sin, doubt, or fear with Himself! Trust Him, love Him, let Him! Let our words be those of the centurion: "Lord, I believe, help my unbelief!" Lord, we believe, but we fall, we doubt, we don't live up to your call - help us, transform us, have mercy on us! (And He does!)
"Help my unbelief", Awesome!, Cross, Doubt, Eucharist, Hatred, Love, Mercy, Miracle, Moral Theology, Resurrection, Sin, Trinity, Trust,
In a previous post I mentioned that I was working on collecting ideas for a post on humility, well here is that post!
On Monday, after getting back from my evening class on the mission/history of Catholic schools, I went and spent a few minutes at the optional Exposition that we have on Monday nights. I had just enough time to say the rosary and spend just a moment or two in more spontaneous prayer when we did Night Prayer and Exposition ended. After helping put the candelabras and monstrance away, I decided to spend just a minute reading Priesly Spirituality, by Hans Urs Von Balthasar (which is the book that I have started reading after completing A Priest is not His Own, but Venerable Fulton Sheen). I haven't gotten very far into this book, so I can't vouch for whether it is good or not, in fact I am still in the introduction, but what I found interesting was that I flipped open to my bookmark and the very first thing I read was "Selflessness, evangelical councils, following Christ on the way to Jerusalem - all these things presuppose and simultaneously nurture an important virtue for one called to be a leader in the Church, namely, humility." I always think it is so cool when the very topic that I'm thinking or praying about - in this case the very topic that I had been meditating on during the rosary a few minutes before - jumps off the page at me. God's grace at work I suppose! Anyway, I'll get back to the topic at hand, but first some funny stories (which happen to involve me being made more humble).
Last week I played hockey several times with some of the guys around Brute. They shoveled off the basketball court that we have out back, put hockey goals at either end, and piled the snow around the outside to form a sort of barrier so the puck wouldn't just slide off. I guess it is a form of street hockey because we don't wear skates, but the concrete surface is coated in a mix of ice and compacted snow, so there is very little traction. This means that while playing you have little control over where you are going (and certainly not turning or stopping). My strategy is to run as hard as I can in the direction of the puck and hope that I can steal, block, or shoot it. Sometimes this works and I get the puck from the other team and can carry it up the court, pass it, and/or shoot it. Other times it doesn't work as well and I end up sliding past the puck, often times into the snowy bank surrounding our small rink. Other guys are a bit more controlled in their propulsion, but I am at a size disadvantage with most of the other guys being 50-100 pounds heavier and 6-12 inches taller, so my only chance to keep up (at far as I can tell) is in playing aggressively. Well, as it turns out, while the puck-moving strategy for hockey is very similar to soccer (and thus my strategy of sprinting after the puck works well sometimes), the game of hockey involves a lot more colliding with other people than does soccer. Thus, whenever I don't end up with the puck, or go flying out of the rink, I usually end up smacking into somebody at full speed, a strategy that quickly becomes painful. Last week, during one of our games I was duking it out with another guy for the puck - both of us trying to shove the other guy out of the court in our attempt to obtain the puck - we both swung at the puck (with our hockey sticks) at the same time and he ended up flipping the puck up into the air and straight into my eye. Actually, it hit a smidge below my eye, but it still was a freaky moment as I saw the puck, almost in slow motion, fly out from below my field of view and smash into my eye. You know how people say they see stars, well all I saw was a flash of light as the puck smacked into my face and then black, as my eye snapped shut a split second later. For just a second I was hesitant about re-opening my eye, not knowing how much damage had been done, but I was relieved to find that I could still see fine and that the puck hadn't done any serious damage. That said, I did quickly develop a nice black eye, something I hadn't done for probably a decade. Now, this wasn't much of an issue around Brute, guys just laughed at me for being so aggressive in hockey and forgot about it. However, a seminarian with a black eye at the March for Life, - that is a bit more noticeable. I was wearing my warmest coat, which happened to be leather, and apparently a black eye and a leather coat make you look pretty tough (not in a good way). So, when I walked into the sacristy and met the bishop at our Mass on Wednesday, almost the first thing he said was "did somebody punch you?" I grinned and said that actually the black eye was from getting hit with a hockey puck, something that the Bishop seemed pleased with, as he is an avid hockey player. Nobody else brought the subject up (except for other seminarians from here), but apparently my injury was clearly visible from the congregation (as evidenced by pictures) at that Mass with the folks from the Springfield diocese.
During our retreat at St. Meinrad, I cantored during the Holy Hour one evening. It must have been the second or third evening because one of the other guys had cantored the night before. That previous night I was stuck by how fantastic the acoustics were in the chapel there, so I was looking forward to being able to cantor that evening mostly because I figured I could really sound good (yeah, I was a bit prideful). I started the O Salutaris a bit low, but everybody was able to hit the notes, so it wasn't a big deal., and chanting night prayer also went fine. The organ there is a full pipe-organ, so that was splendid! However, the Tantum Ergo didn't turn out as good. I was determined to start it a bit higher than the O Salutaris) but I ended up starting it way too high, as in, well into the stratosphere high. I sang the first note and immediately grimaced because I knew it was too high, then the song started going up (in pitch) and my voice started breaking. Fr. Joe, who has a higher range than I do, glanced back at me when I first got started with this look of suprise and then started belting it out. Of course, I, along with most of the other guys, were unable to hit some of those notes and the whole things was pretty much a disaster. It didn't grind to a screeching halt, thank goodness, but it was close.
Alright, two more quick stories before I dive back into the more important, spiritual side of the topic. Last week I was trying to get back into the blogging thing (as I outlined later in the post on Monday) and I was writing one of the ones on the March for Life. Well, apparently, I wasn't on top of my grammar that day because (as I was reminded after it had been posted for a few days) I used "wondered" instead of "wandered" like 20 times throughout the post. I was going to joke that I made this mistake because, being in philosophy, I have learned how to wonder, but to be honest I just neglected to notice the mistake. Sorry about that...
Today Ray and I went to St. Paul's Hermitage for our weekly ministry to the elderly/ill. Anyway, we usually take one of the seminary vehicles because then I don't have to burn through the gas in my (less-efficient) car for the 30 minute ride there and back. Usually Ray drives, but today I had already gotten the keys because I vacuumed out the car today during the work session, so I drove. This car happens to have a manual transmission, so that took a few minutes to get used to, but I thought that I was doing pretty good when all of a sudden it died. I was rolling up to a red light when it changed to green, so I put the car in 2nd gear and nudged the gas while releasing the clutch. Apparently, I didn't give it enough gas because it immediately choked and died. Of course, there were like 5 cars behind me, so I was in a bit of a hurry to get the car restarted, but I couldn't get it restarted. I shoved in both brake and clutch and twisted the key - nothing. I took it out of gear - nothing. I was flabbergasted (as were the cars, who were now shooting past me) and didn't know what I was doing wrong. Thankfully, Ray was more knowledgeable about that sort of thing than me and recommended that I pump the gas pedal and try to rev the engine while starting it. I don't know exactly why that helped, but this time the car started up and we continued our drive without more problems.
Alright, so there were a few stories where I related times that I was forced to become a bit more humble. But, humility is so much more than black eyes, bad cantoring, spelling mistakes, and dead cars! As that quote from Priestly Spirituality continues: "Jesus humbled himself in his priesthood and "became obedient unto death" (Phil 2:8); on behalf of sinners he took upon himself the most extreme humiliation. That is why Peter, before receiving his office, is humbled by the question about love - the love that he has denied - and given the promise that he will follow Christ to the Cross". This is humility - looking into the face of Christ and admitting that we have sinned, that we didn't love Him as we ought, that we were afraid to stand up for Him, that we denied Him. People don't like Confession because it is humiliating, but it is only in humbly acknowledging our sins that we are able to accept God's forgiveness. If our heart is full of our self it can't possibly accept God. I am reading a few pages from Edward Sri's book, A Biblical Walk Through of the Mass, before Mass each day, and I just got to the Kyrie. In this section, the author notes that mercy isn't just being forgiven by God, it involves turning our lives around (through humility)
Biblical mercy is not like that. Rather, the relationship of mercy is better exemplified by the parable of the Prodigal Son. IN this story, the wayward son, suffering in his misery, begins to see the sinfulness of his actions. He humbly repents and returns home to his father. According to John Paul II, the father in the story "sees so clearly the good which has been achieved [in his son] thanks to a mysterious radiation of truth and love, that he seems to forge all the evil which the son had committed." [JPII, Dives et Misericordia, no. 6] In this case, the father does not merely pardon his son for his offenses. Rather, he sees the good taking place in his son - his change of heart, his sorry for his sins, and his noble desire to get his life back on track. And the father rejoices in seeing this good in his son and eagerly welcomes him back. [p. 38]
God loves us completely, but He is waiting for us to be humble - to recognize our sinfulness - to give us His forgiveness. Mary is blessed abundantly by God because she is humble:
My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord, my spirit rejoices on God my Savior for he has looked with favor on his lowly servant. From this day all generations will call me blessed: The Almighty has done great things for me, and holy is his Name. [Luke 1:46-49]
Of course, one could give innumerable examples of how God can only work with a humble servant (John the Baptist's "He must increase, I must decrease"), but I think the point has been made adequately clear. Humility is more than being humiliated (though that can certainly help us to become humble), humility is understanding ourselves as sinners before God. Pope Francis has continued to make waves by constantly emphasizing the need to care for the poor, the weak, the downtrodden, but remember how he started his pontificate saying that "I am a sinner". Only by humbly acknowledging this fact can we continue to become more like Christ (who was unthinkably humble in becoming a man and taking upon His perfect self our world of sin) and become transformed by His love. We must, like St. Peter, stop protesting and allow Christ to wash our (dirty) feet.
Obviously, there is so much more to say on this topic, but, as always, I don't have unlimited time. Have a wonderful Sunday folks!
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So, what do all these points have in common? All these "things" - the presence of evil, God, and the Eucharist - are mysteries, they are beyond our limited understanding, but, in all of them, God wants to enter that mystery and drive away all that lacks His presence. 
What about the unknowns that we have about God? He becomes man to bring us to that Truth, to Himself. Why? Because we are made in the image of God, we are meant to become more like Him. Our categories, our rational ways of explaining the Trinity, our analogies, aren't so much us getting closer to the truth regarding God - every analogy, falls hopefully short of the true grandure and awesomeness of God - but these thoughts aren't pointless. Our drawing closer to God leads to our own fulfillment, our intellectual working towards the Trinity does get us to a closer idea of what we are supposed to be. God shows Himself, as Father, Son, and Spirit, as perfect love in mutual, completely generous, relationships. We are supposed to be that way too! Augustine in his De Trinitate ("On the Trinity") looks inside of ourselves to catch of the glimpse of the Trinity, as it is in Itself. He moves from (but retains) the "economic" idea of the Trinity that we find evident in the Scriptures (of the Father as creator, the Son as redeemer, and the Spirit as sanctifier), to a more metaphysical [read: essential] understanding of God. He shows that just as our mind has memory, intellect, and will, and goes in that order: we remember something, think about it, and then decide to act in some way regarding it, so the Trinity has Father, Son, and Spirit. Both sets of 3 work in an order (the Father eternally begets the Son, and from both of them the Holy Spirit proceeds), but the first "part" doesn't exist without the other; as soon as we remember something we think about it and act on it, as "soon" (eternally) as the Father exists, so does the Son and the Spirit. So, this exercise does reveal something about God because He has revealed that we are images of Him, but our mental capacity is still limited, so we'll never understand the Trinity completely. (We are always stuck, so to speak, looking at God from one "direction", either we see Him as one, perfect unity, or three, in the three persons, we can't quite wrap our head around the mystery completely). End of story? No! Where God sees a lack of goodness (in this case, knowledge of Him), He wants to fill that lack with Himself, with His truth, with His love. We are imperfect images of God, so, Christ comes as our savior and redeemer, to save and redeem us. To reform us back into more perfect images of Him (and the entire Trinity). Jesus not only directly reveals to us the truths of God, He also tells us to "love one another as I have loved you" (John 13:34). This isn't just a moral commandment, this is a map to our true end, God Himself. In Jesus' loving death for us, He redeems us, and in His calling us to the same sacrificial-love, He pulls us closer to God. Recap: In our weakness itself, in our lack of imaging God, God wants to forgive us and make us again in His image. In our lack of knowledge, Jesus comes to reveal more about God!
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