Archive for June, 2008

being spiritually challenged by the darker side of human nature.

June 30, 2008 at 4:38 pm · Filed under Great Catholic Writers, Existentialists, Flannery O'Connor

Light and Shadow: Religious Grace in Two Stories by Flannery O’Connor
 by David Allen Cook

The literary works of Flannery O’Connor often contend that religious belief can only be consummated by direct confrontation with evil, and for those uncommitted and unprepared, tragedy seems inevitable. For O’Connor’s religious “pretenders,” a moment of religious grace–a revelation of Truth–often does come, but at a devastating price. In two stories by O’Connor, “A Good Man Is Hard to Find” and “The Lame Shall Enter First,” we are presented with main characters that experience a deep epiphany after being spiritually challenged by the darker side of human nature.

The grandmother considers herself a “good Christian,” but places more emphasis on appearance than substance. She is careful to wear her best clothes when traveling so that, “anyone seeing her dead […] would know at once that she was a lady” (118). Sheppard, on the other hand, is an agnostic who rejects Christianity as outdated, reminding us that, “Nobody has given any reliable evidence there’s a hell” (461). Thus, both characters live in a kind of spiritual void–the grandmother because she accepts without real commitment, and Sheppard because he cannot accept without proof. The grandmother constantly criticizes others as the source of problems and insists that, “In my time […] people did right” (119). She also thinks that “little niggers in the country” (119) are cute in their desperate poverty–completely indifferent to their suffering. Likewise, Sheppard, even though he has given up on trying to help his own son, prides himself on his altruistic volunteer work in which his only reward is, “the satisfaction of knowing he [is] helping boys no one else [cares] about” (447). In a perfect world, the grandmother and Sheppard might never realize the hypocrisy of their ways, but when faced with stark reality, they will both learn a costly lesson.

Through her encounter with The Misfit, the grandmother learns the difference between what she wants to believe and the reality of things. She naively hopes that her insistence that he is a, “good man [who] must come from nice people” (127) will somehow change the fact that he is a cold-blooded murderer. The Misfit, tortured by his inability to know for sure if salvation is possible, is unable to accept compassion, thus committing himself to death and destruction. With the gradual realization that she must die, the grandmother suddenly understands and, seeing the universality of mankind, tells The Misfit, “Why you’re one of my own babies. You’re one of my own children” (132). The divisions that have dominated the grandmother’s view of reality–good men and bad men, Europeans and Americans, country niggers and her family, the good old days and now–suddenly vanish and reveal the present moment. The Misfit and the grandmother are two human beings–a man and a woman, a bother and sister, a son and mother. If he represents the evil in society, then she represents the people who have let it happen. Thus, they are inseparable. In her final attempt to eliminate even the space between them, she reaches out and touches him. However, he recoils from her unconditional love, “as if a snake had bitten him” (132) and kills her. The Misfit, like a “sin eater” has salvaged another soul at the cost of his own. For in that one brief moment of grace, he has given the grandmother a deeper joy and satisfaction than she has ever known in her many years disconnected from the intimacy of life.

Rufus is another character who pushes others away because of his sincere belief that he is evil. Sheppard’s great mistake is that he tries to explain away Rufus’ words and actions as psychological ploys. Even though Rufus repeatedly tells him so, Sheppard is in denial that Rufus does not want or need his secular help. Although Norton defends his father as someone who is “good,” Rufus retaliates with, “I don’t care if he’s good or not. He ain’t right!” (454). Thus, the battle lines are drawn between the social definition of “good” and “bad,” and the much deeper, absolute meanings of “right” and “wrong.” Sheppard represents society’s status quo and its good intentions, while Rufus represents the harsh realities of life. For Rufus, there is no greater sin than not having something to believe in–an absolute by which life can be assessed. Thus, Rufus knows that he will go to hell, but if he were to repent, he could do no less than to become a preacher, for in his mind, there is only black and white. Sheppard, however, prefers the murkiness of gray, and refuses to understand how people, especially intelligent ones, can have belief based on faith rather than hard evidence. He refers to the Bible as something, “to hide behind” and “for people who are afraid to stand on their own two feet and figure out things for themselves” (477). Sheppard forgets that no man stands alone–that everyone needs some standard by which to live. Rufus reminds him of the sanctity of mind telling him, “You don’t know what I believe and what I don’t [… and] even if I didn’t believe it, it would still be true” (477). When Sheppard’s compassion for Rufus finally dries up, he is suddenly struck by panic when he realizes he has forsaken his own son in his obsessive desire to “save” Rufus. In an instant he can see that he has gorged himself on self-pity and self-righteousness. Like Norton vomiting his unusual breakfast, the epiphany is so intense and its impact so deep that it cracks open Sheppard’s stony heart and releases a painful flood of love, optimism, and resolution, “He groaned with joy. He would make everything up to [his son]. He would never let him suffer again. He would be mother and father. He would […] kiss him […] tell him that he loved him, […and] would never fail him again” (482). But like the grandmother, Sheppard’s realization comes too late. Norton has hung himself to be reunited with his dead mother in his desperate desire to know what has happened to her in death.

In her desire to control circumstances and people, the grandmother unwittingly leads her family to The Misfit, just as Sheppard is an accomplice in exposing his impressionable son to a religious fanatic and criminal. Thus, they are not just victims of tragic events, but in many ways, responsible for them as well. O’Connor seems to be telling us that we should be attuned to the realities of life and to accept that the world is not perfect. However, the fact that both characters are graced with an epiphany of their mistaken ways shows that there is hope for salvation. Everyone must make a stand in this imperfect world, but they must stand with conviction. Otherwise, the unpredictable currents of fate will sweep away those who do not have a firm footing–be it on the high ground or low.

Works Cited

O’Connor, Flannery. Flannery O’Connor: The Complete Stories. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1971.

Visit a wonderful site dedicated to Flannery O’Connor : Comforts of Home :  http://mediaspecialist.org/

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Mediatrix of Salvation: The Role of Mary in the Covenant

June 30, 2008 at 12:39 pm · Filed under Redemptive Suffering, Marian Apologetics, Theotokos

By Seth Evangelho 

Divinization is the end for which all things were created. The Mother of the Redeemer, by a singular grace, effectively participates in the reacquisition of this providential vocation to the world when she is “crucified spiritually with her crucified son” (1). In humble submission to the will of the Creator, Mary fulfills her purpose, thus reflecting to the rest of humanity the image of her Divine Son—in whose imitation divinization rests.

In the excruciating agony of crucifixion, gasping for life and groaning to the Father, Jesus lowers his eyes from the dark horizon of the resurrection to behold in the flesh the plentiful fruit of his Passion already manifest. The pierced Virgin, sorrowing at the foot of a blood-soaked cross, mediates to her spiritual children the perfect model of Christian discipleship, the radiant perfection of what it means to be in covenant with God. She, in this perfect act of worship—this total self-emptying gesture of sacrifice—becomes a vessel of grace for humanity, the channel through which Jesus has deigned to bestow the redemptive power of his mercy. On the cross he reveals to the world the perfect human expression of Divine Love, and lo, at his feet, the perfect human response. Mary gives the abundance of what she has received back to the Father, thus uniting her will to the offering of her son.

Mary, the Virgin Mother of our Lord, bears within her maternity the manifest graces of the everlasting covenant. Within her dwells the presence of God and, as this heavenly ark, she now functions as the sole Mediatrix of that grace. In his providence, the Father willed for his only beloved Son to enter the world through a woman, and it is through this vessel of motherhood that he has deigned the world to enter the Godhead.

Introduction

For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and return not thither but water the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes forth from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and prosper in the thing for which I sent it (Is 55:10-11).

As the rain waters the earth, so too does the Word of God nourish the soul of every man. Not until the designated fruit has been harvested does that Word return to its heavenly source—the bosom of the Father. He has sent his only Son, the Word made flesh, to rescue a fallen world (cf. Jn 3:16); and in this self-emptying act creation itself is filled. This Logos is meant to nourish the soul of every man, as the rain penetrates the soil, and like the earth, the soul is made rich to bare abundant fruits. Unlike the earth, which makes an unconscious return, man is faced with a decision to surrender his securities—to trust in the providential cycle of Love.

The sin of our first parents had made it impossible for us to obtain the grace necessary for such a selfless offering, but the covenant opens for man a channel by which authentic freedom and trustful surrender become a realistic pursuit. Properly nourished, and by a free act of self-donation, we are made sons in the Son, and we offer the Word back to the Father.

It is true that the Virgin Mary mediates to us this Word-made-flesh, but she is not simply a material conduit through which God enters time. She mediates the return offering as well. The humble maiden of Nazareth is present at the foot of the Cross, and it is there that she receives her full status as Mediatrix of a New Covenant; she offers her very “flesh” back to the Father in complete and humble obedience to His will. It is in this “yes”—this free self-donation to the Father—that, for her part, the true meaning of worship is fulfilled.

The Son elevates this “act of worship” to its most perfect manifestation by submitting to the agonizing reality of crucifixion; but Mary, through her own sacrifice, offers true worship to the Father “in spirit and truth” (Jn 4:23), thus achieving an authentic communion—the divinization desired by God for all creation. Mary goes before us in a singular way as the first to fulfill the purpose of her creation. She not only mediates to us the New and Everlasting Covenant by supplying the “flesh” to be sacrificed, but gives to us also the perfect example of what it means to imitate His Passion.

In this essay, I will explore the penetrating reality of God’s merciful love for his creation. Only through covenant can the depth of his aspiration be attained, and we will see why. In the midst of his plan has been revealed to us a woman. Her humility deflects the illuminating radiance of her perfection, but as we delve into the depths of the person of Mary, we shall discover her intimate relationship with both God and man.

Part One: The Love of the Father (2)

In communion creation finds its raison d’etre. From within the eternal completeness of Trinitarian life, God calls the whole of created reality into the eternal transcendence of divine existence. History becomes the actualization of this “event.” Our anxiety-stricken, fallen world will only find repose in the context of a covenant with its Creator, whereby it is set free from the bondage of sin and allowed to participate in the temporal experience of creation’s destiny.

The fall of Adam and Eve inaugurated the covenant between God and man—a familial bond that would untie the knot of disobedience. God reveals the profound reality of his fatherhood by using history itself as the dramatic stage upon which he would raise his children, ultimately drawing them back into his arms. The first ray of light appears immediately after man’s treacherous descent: the promise of enmity.

There was to be born a woman whom the devil could not touch, and it is her seed who would undo the curse brought on by our first parents (Gen 3:15). Of course this seed is the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity, Jesus Christ; but he was to be mediated to the world through a humble Jewish maiden, Mary of Nazareth. She is the woman of Revelation, clothed with the sun, kept safe in the wilderness, and at enmity with the devil (cf. Rev 12:1-6).

The covenant grew out of a threefold promise to Abraham, slowly transitioning from one historical phase to the next; but ultimately, it was destined for fulfillment in the sacrifice of the Messiah on Calvary. Mary consents to this offering by her “fiat” at the Annunciation, whereby she mediates the blood of the New Covenant to the world, thus fulfilling the Protogospel of Genesis. Death has lost its sting, for—by the fathomless depths of Divine Love, and with the cooperation of one fair maiden—man encounters the Savior and finds atonement for his sin.

Before unpacking the relevance of our Spiritual Mother, it is first necessary to examine more closely the covenant itself. Let us now, with the help of Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger (now Pope Benedict XVI) peer into the pedagogy of the Father’s love.

Understanding the Covenant

The Old and New Covenants must not be seen as competing worldviews. Rather, they constitute the one covenant “issued in two main stages” (3). The title Testament is not arbitrary; the reality of the word (covenant) reveals the essence of the two-fold revelation, the unveiling of God’s sovereign decision to call man forth into personal communion. Unlike the equal partnership of human covenants, the implications of Scripture reveal salvation to be a covenantal “gift, a creative act of God’s love” (4).

This invitation into quasi-marital status with God is striking; never before had such a relationship been considered. The infinite God existing in personal relation to the finite world was a revelation that presented ancient thinkers with a logically irreconcilable gap, forcing “theology (to) look for a philosophy acceptable to it” (5). The Biblical notion of God, known through two relational terms, creation and revelation, suggests what was finally revealed as a Trinitarian existence within the Godhead (God-in-relation) (6). Pope Benedict XVI wishes to introduce this “new philosophical category—the concept of ‘person’” (7) as necessarily relevant to speech about God. If God is not Trinitarian, a being-in-relation, then any personal relationship with him amounts to a philosophical absurdity.

Allof salvation history unfolds within the context of the covenant, and therefore any discussion about the God of the Bible must begin with the creation of the cosmos. The revelation of God’s creating purpose is often overlooked, but nonetheless it is present within the Genesis account. The Sabbath rest might be thought of as the crowning moment of leisure in which the curtain is drawn, unveiling the masterpiece. When God’s chosen people are commanded to observe this day, the purpose of creation is illuminated. The worship of God in freedom and in love is the climactic fulfillment of the Creator’s design. The Sabbath rest points man to the eschatological completion of reality, to a time when God will be “all in all” (1 Cor 15:28).

The principle notion of creation is that of an initiation into the eternal relationship of familial communion with God—a relationship shattered by the fall. For this reason, the covenant has become imperative for restoration, that the created world might finally be transformed by a participation in divine reality. This is the “cosmic liturgy” described in the book of Revelation, “the marriage supper of the lamb” (Rev 19:9), but it will not take place until the family has been gathered. The Creator of space and time has for this reason made himself known through historical stages culminating in the Word made Flesh, whereby he has revealed his saving plan to systematically draw humanity back into the dramatic tension of freedom and obedience, justice and mercy—his loving arms (8).

As St. Augustine has so eloquently asserted, the New Covenant lies hidden in the Old—via real historical events with unexpected typological relevance—and the “types” of Old are revealed in the New to be a foreshadowing of heavenly realities. The Holy Father points out a distinction made in the letter to the Hebrews: rather than thinking in terms of the Old and the New, it is more proper to regard them as the “first” and the “eternal.” We will then avoid the common misconception in St. Paul’s writings of the positing of the Law against the Spirit. Instead, we will see with the eyes of faith that Our Lord has torn open our veiled intellects, giving us the spiritual insight to realize that “the Law itself becomes Spirit” (9).

Two forms of covenant can be identified with the Israelite experience of old. The first and fundamental covenant—that which through the cooperation of the Virgin Mary finds full expression in the Person of Christ—is the promise to Abraham: “the gift of friendship bestowed without conditions” (10). The other form acts as a temporary condition based on the transgressions of the Chosen People. We see this in the Levitical and Deuteronomic covenants mediated by Moses to the idolatrous Israelites in the desert. These legal stipulations reveal the patience and wisdom of a God who has covenanted himself only once; and his intent all along to fulfill his oath to Abraham in the God-man.

At the Last Supper, seen now in light of the Cross, the Old Covenant was drastically transfigured to “a totally unsuspected depth … (and man is introduced to) a new and profoundly transformed level of existence” (11). The prophetic notion of a time when the Law will be written upon the hearts of God’s people is physically manifested in Eucharistic Communion. Upon reception, our hearts are united to his, thus transforming our very flesh. All the while, he descends into the hell of our brokenness (the depth of covenant love by which he has forever bound himself to humanity).

The Paschal Mystery, made present in the Holy Sacrifice, is perpetuated in time, making us witnesses to the truth of the one covenant. Just as the Israelites required constant renewal, we now experience the fulfilled, eternally unchanging “event” through which the relationship of humanity with God is constantly made new (cf. Rev 21:5). The Old Testament—given flesh in the womb of Mary—has been glorified in Christ, restored and transformed in the blood of the true Paschal Lamb.

Through the grace of Divine Love, we begin to understand how God has turned his “testament” to us into a “covenant” with us. God is truly with us in the Incarnation. His spousal desire for man is fully revealed when he binds his existence to our nature; and in the consumption of his human (albeit resurrected) flesh, we become “partakers in the divine nature” (2 Pet 1:4). In Christ, the covenant relationship is final. A two-sided communion, with Christ (the Head) as Mediator with the Father, and humanity as his Body and Bride, now orients humanity within the inner Trinitarian dialogue of Love.

Any attempt to grasp the profound revelation of covenant love is futile if it is unable to relate two fundamental dimensions. In fact, Pope Benedict XVI suggests that these dimensions are not only inseparable, but when properly understood, they are indistinguishably one in action. The two dimensions of covenant to which he refers are that of worship and sacrifice. Let us now reflect upon these theological insights of the Holy Father—windows into the covenant that might not have otherwise been opened.

Proper Worship…True Sacrifice

The covenant calls man forth from the bondage of sin, reacquainting him with truth and presenting him with the opportunity to love. Through covenant man realizes that to know God is to love God, and that any resistance to submission can only result in a return to slavery. It was to love God and to give him proper worship for which we were created; and thus we find true freedom only within the limits of his precepts.

The central event of God’s revelation to Israel is mediated through Moses in the Exodus. The Israelites do not “escape” slavery to the Egyptians; they are set free through divine intervention. The reason for such an action is revealed in the tumultuous journey of the Chosen People into the Promised Land. Yahweh had destined them to have a land of their own; but first they had to learn in the wilderness what it meant to serve him. The land into which they would enter carried no meaning apart from its intended use. The Promised Land was “to be a place for the worship of the true God” (12), and this represented the purpose of creation itself. Man, a spiritual being fashioned out of material elements, finds freedom only in worship—and therefore needs a “place” in which to offer it.

Although God freed the Israelites from slavery, they received a shallow liberty until they understood that he freed them for worship. This required that they learn to sacrifice. In their desert wanderings, the people were introduced to genuine worship—that they might one day be able to share in the life of God. But since they were so distanced from the ways of the Lord, it was necessary to learn (as humans do) in stages. The sacrifice desired was nothing less than a complete self-offering on the part of every man; but this required a love so refined that the Israelites had to first be stripped of their idolatrous attachments. The animal sacrifices served as pedagogy, but remained a temporary arrangement; for the true purpose of sacrifice assumes an interior fulfillment: “for I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings” (Hos 6:6). The essence of worship (and with it the covenant) is lost without the true meaning of sacrifice.

The sin of Adam was a failure to keep safe the garden, but his stewardship was limited and he failed to love sacrificially. The mystery of sacrifice is fully revealed in the one sacrifice of Christ and Mary (13)—the pouring out of divine (now hypostatic) love. This is the perfect historical manifestation of an eternal reality; the only worship worthy of communion with God. Unlike Adam, Christ gives himself over completely for his Bride, going before us to illuminate his ineffable message of agape: “…he who loses his life for my sake will find it” (Mt 10:39). The gift of our very lives back to the Creator is returned a hundredfold, and we discover the abundant freedom for which we are destined.

Our Lady goes before us as the only creature to respond perfectly to the Creator. Her “fiat” constituted a completely selfless surrender to the will of God. It is through the imitation of Mary, the embodiment of creaturely perfection, that we learn to offer our lives (in sacrifice) entirely to God and obtain (by true worship) the fulfillment of our most inexpressible hopes; for “the goal of worship and the goal of creation are one and the same—divinization, a world of freedom and love” (14).

Divinization—Liturgical Consummation

When the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity put on human nature, he did this so that his total gift of self (on the altar of the Cross) might unite all of humanity, with himself, to God. The crucifixion of the God-man has proved acceptable; and “the prayer of the man Jesus is now united with the dialogue of eternal love within the Trinity” (15). The unitive force of Christ’s love is manifested in a real, substantial manner in the Sacrament of Holy Communion. At Mass we transcend the limits of the old creation and enter into the transformed reality of the Sabbath rest.

The covenant is a catalyst for restoration. Man is reintroduced to the authentic order of creation; he realizes that as the rain descends from the heavens and makes its way back, so have all things been designed in God. The truth of our wounded existence requires submission that we might be healed; and in wholeness we are to be elevated to the heights of divine life. God has not created the world to be absorbed back into him; for one will lose nothing of his unique expression of personhood. Rather, the distinction between us and God will be crowned by an even greater comprehension, unveiling man to himself (16), and all that it truly means to be created.

Creation is God’s gift of freedom to man, “a space for worship” (17) consummated by a bond of covenant love, whereby the true act of love becomes indistinguishable from the true act of worship. This reality is actualized at every Catholic mass as the faithful enter into the one sacrifice of Christ. Through sacramental grace we grow in the knowledge and love of the Trinity. The liturgy, from the beginning, has been the doorway to the covenant; the way in which we offer our lives in true worship, and as his children, come to the Father.

In the consummate liturgy of the last days, we enter into the Paschal Mystery, the culmination of “the loving plan that guides all of history” (18). The Eucharist is a sharing in the eternal moment of the life, death, Resurrection, and Ascension of Jesus Christ—the temporal expression of divine love, whereby the covenant consummation of the Last Supper is perpetuated in time. We receive from the hands of a priest that sacred host, and its nourishing power is absorbed into our flesh; and taking his Body and Blood into our own, we are united to his. This is the climax of covenant communion, the Divine act by which the Savior brings us home to God (19)

Read the entire article at Mother Of All Peoples :   http://www.motherofallpeoples.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=1382&Itemid=80

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But Jesus said to him, “Follow me, and leave the dead to bury their own dead

June 30, 2008 at 7:00 am · Filed under Daily Mass Readings

Amos 2: 6 - 10, 13 - 16
6 Thus says the LORD: “For three transgressions of Israel, and for four, I will not revoke the punishment; because they sell the righteous for silver, and the needy for a pair of shoes —
7 they that trample the head of the poor into the dust of the earth, and turn aside the way of the afflicted; a man and his father go in to the same maiden, so that my holy name is profaned;
8 they lay themselves down beside every altar upon garments taken in pledge; and in the house of their God they drink the wine of those who have been fined.
9 “Yet I destroyed the Amorite before them, whose height was like the height of the cedars, and who was as strong as the oaks; I destroyed his fruit above, and his roots beneath.
10 Also I brought you up out of the land of Egypt, and led you forty years in the wilderness, to possess the land of the Amorite.
13 “Behold, I will press you down in your place, as a cart full of sheaves presses down.
14 Flight shall perish from the swift, and the strong shall not retain his strength, nor shall the mighty save his life;
15 he who handles the bow shall not stand, and he who is swift of foot shall not save himself, nor shall he who rides the horse save his life;
16 and he who is stout of heart among the mighty shall flee away naked in that day,” says the LORD.
Psalms 50: 16 - 23
16 But to the wicked God says: “What right have you to recite my statutes, or take my covenant on your lips?
17 For you hate discipline, and you cast my words behind you.
18 If you see a thief, you are a friend of his; and you keep company with adulterers.
19 “You give your mouth free rein for evil, and your tongue frames deceit.
20 You sit and speak against your brother; you slander your own mother’s son.
21 These things you have done and I have been silent; you thought that I was one like yourself. But now I rebuke you, and lay the charge before you.
22 “Mark this, then, you who forget God, lest I rend, and there be none to deliver!
23 He who brings thanksgiving as his sacrifice honors me; to him who orders his way aright I will show the salvation of God!” ————————————————————————
Matthew 8: 18 - 22
18 Now when Jesus saw great crowds around him, he gave orders to go over to the other side.
19 And a scribe came up and said to him, “Teacher, I will follow you wherever you go.”
20 And Jesus said to him, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of man has nowhere to lay his head.”
21 Another of the disciples said to him, “Lord, let me first go and bury my father.”
22 But Jesus said to him, “Follow me, and leave the dead to bury their own dead.”

The Transfiguration is not only the revelation of Christ’s glory but also a preparation for facing Christ’s cross. It involves both “going up the mountain” and “coming down the mountain.” The disciples who have enjoyed this intimacy with the Master, surrounded by the splendor of the Trinitarian life, “…are immediately brought back to daily reality, where they see ‘Jesus only,’ in the lowliness of his human nature.”

— Pope John Paul II

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