Church asking for forgiveness?

Are Church Authorities morally obliged to publicly beg for forgiveness for the sins committed by our ancestors in the Faith?

To ask for forgiveness for sins committed centuries ago is definitely open to misunderstandings and misinterpretations. But all Catholics of good faith should agree on two facts: first, that not only individual Catholics, but Catholics in positions of authority have, in the course of history, sinned gravely against Justice and Charity. To refuse to admit this sad fact is not a valid Catholic stance: Truth must be faced. But it must also be said emphatically that this in no way impugns the Holiness of the Church as Bride of Christ, for every sin committed by members of the Church is explicitly condemned by the Gospel that the Saviour gave us. The worst enemy of Christ will never find a single word in His teaching advocating violence, injustice and brutality. In other words, those who have sinned against their ‘enemies’ (atheists, heretics, etc.) have branded themselves as bad Catholics.

Secondly, can one obtain forgiveness by confessing to descendants of victims the sins committed by our ancestors against theirs? Can one objectively ask and obtain forgiveness for the sins of others, even if these others are related to us by Faith, or by blood? A sin is always an individual offense, There is only one case in which all of us are guilty of the same sin: the Crucifixion of our Saviour, the King of the Jews. In this unique case, nostra culpa (our fault) is also very specifically mea culpa (my fault). There is only one exception: His Holy mother, a young Jewish Virgin.

But is it not true that when grave evils have been committed by people close to us, it should affect us more deeply than if they were committed by people of other faiths, other countries, or different blood? The answer is ‘yes’. Granted that there should be a feeling of solidarity with people related to us – however, we should make a clear distinction between asking publicly for forgiveness for the faults committed by our ancestors and officially condemning their actions. These should be publicly anathematized, denounced, rejected, detested. By officially condemning horrors committed in the past, the Church exonerates Herself from the sins of her unworthy children, whose evil deeds are condemned by the Gospel. In other words, the Church – while condemning the sins of Her children – should publicly de solidarize Herself from sinners who betray her Holy Teaching.

We all know or have heard about fathers who declare that ‘he is no longer my son’, ‘I disown him because of what he has done’. But to disown him (that is to condemn his evil deeds) does not free a parent from the obligation to pray for him and to love him in Christ, in spite of his sinfulness.

This public condemnation would achieve what ‘asking for forgiveness’ intends to do – and at the same time it eschews possible misunderstandings, that is, the misinterpretation given by the news media that ‘the Church now finally acknowledges Her sins and therefore She cannot claim to be Holy and to have the fullness of Truth’!

It is the strict duty of the teaching Church to condemn heresies. This cannot be repeated enough in an age of ‘dictatorial relativism’ where every error is viewed as a legitimate ‘point of view’, an age in which Truth is viewed as ‘divisive’ and ‘opinions’ as a bridge of peace between people.  The word anathema sit has rightly been used by St. Paul and in Councils, and I do not hesitate to write that these condemnations were ‘charitable anathemas’. They intended to warn God’s children of the poison of heresy. But has this justified condemnation always been coupled with charity for the person whose views have been rightly condemned? Charity and Truth essentially belong together. Some people can be ‘ferocious’ in their defence of truth. Fanatics are always Pharisaical, and unfortunately this danger is still very much alive. To proclaim Truth without love is to inject a subtle poison into its message. This is why Christ forbade a devil to proclaim that He was ‘the Christ, the Son of the Living God’ – the devil had spoken the Truth with hatred in his heart.

Should we expect Jews today to ask Christians for forgiveness for having persecuted them at the beginning of Christianity as related in the Acts of the Apostles? Are Anglicans to beg us for forgiveness for the murders of St. John Fisher, St. Thomas More, Edmund Campion and hundreds of others?

Moses transmitted to the Chosen people the Divine Message. He could not prevent them from adoring the golden calf. Let us not forget that one can only ask for forgiveness for the harm done to oneself – directly or indirectly, but one cannot repent for sins one has not committed and obtain absolution from men. God alone can forgive sins – hence the scandal that the words of Jesus triggered in the Jews when He declared: ‘Thy sins are forgiven thee’ –  He was, in fact, declaring his Divinity.

Ego sum Immaculata Conceptio

Centocinquantacinque anni fa, era il Venerdì 8 dicembre 1854, fin dalle 6 del mattino furono aperte le porte della Basilica di San Pietro. Alle ore 8 la Basilica era gremita di fedeli, quasi 50.000. Alle 10 dalla Cappella Sistina si muove la lunga processione di 53 Cardinali, 43 Arcivescovi e 99 Vescovi, provenienti da tutto il mondo, diretta verso l’altare papale, ove il papa Pio IX celebrò la solenne santa Messa. Come di rito, al termine del canto del Vangelo in greco e poi in latino, il Cardinale Macchi, decano del Collegio Cardinalizio, si prostrò ai piedi del Pontefice domandando, con voce sorprendentemente energica, per i suoi 85 anni, il decreto sull’Immacolata Concezione della Beata Vergine Maria, “che avrebbe cagionato gioia in Cielo e il massimo entusiasmo sulla terra”.

Dopo il canto allo Spirito Santo del Veni Creator, il Papa, seduto sul trono, lesse con tono grave e voce alta la solenne definizione dogmatica: “A onore della santa e individua Trinità, a gloria e ornamento della Vergine Madre di Dio, per l’esaltazione della fede cattolica, e per l’incremento della religione cristiana, con l’autorità del Signore Nostro Gesù Cristo, dei beati Apostoli Pietro e Paolo, e Nostra, dichiariamo pronunciamo e definiamo che la dottrina, la quale ritiene che la beatissima Vergine Maria, nel primo istante della sua concezione, per singolare grazia e privilegio di Dio onnipotente, ed in vista dei meriti di Gesù Cristo Salvatore del genere umano, sia stata preservata immune da ogni macchia di colpa originale, è dottrina rivelata da Dio e perciò da credersi fermamente e ostantemente da tutti i fedeli”.

Dal momento in cui il Cardinale decano aveva fatto la richiesta della promulgazione del decreto fino al Te Deum cantato dopo la Messa Pontificale, al segno dato dal colpo di cannone esploso da Castel Sant’Angelo, e per lo spazio di una ora, tutte le campane di Roma suonarono a festa per celebrare un giorno così glorioso per la Chiesa e per l’umanità.

Tutti i presenti affermarono che, al momento solenne il papa Pio IX fu investito dall’alto da un fascio di luce che ne illuminò il volto solcato di lacrime. Alcuni studiosi attestano che in nessun periodo dell’anno, tanto meno di dicembre, da nessuna finestra della Basilica Vaticana un raggio di sole può scendere ad illuminare qualunque punto dell’abside, nella quale si trovava Pio IX. Questo induce a pensare che sia stato un segno soprannaturale, con cui il Cielo confermava l’atto dogmatico del Vicario di Cristo in terra.

“My Lady is beautiful, beautiful beyond compare; so beautiful that when one has seen her once, one would wish to die so as to see her again; so beautiful that when one has seen her, one can no longer love anything earthly.”

St. Bernadette

“Still more was it becoming that God should preserve her from Original Sin, for He destined her to crush the head of that infernal serpent, which, by seducing our first parents, entailed death upon all men; and this our Lord foretold: “I will put enmities between thee and the woman, and thy seed and her seed: she shall crush thy head.” (Gen. 3: 15) But if Mary was to be that valiant woman brought into the world to conquer Lucifer, certainly it was not becoming that he should first conquer her, and make her his slave; but it was reasonable that she should be preserved from all stain, and even momentary subjection to her opponent. The proud spirit endeavoured to infect the most pure soul of this Virgin with his venom, as he had already infected the whole human race. But praised and ever blessed be God, Who, in His infinite goodness, preendowed her for this purpose with such great grace, that, remaining always free from any guilt of sin, she was ever able to beat down and confound his pride, as Saint Augustine says: ‘Since the devil is the head of Original Sin, this head it was that Mary crushed: for sin never had any entry into the soul of this Blessed Virgin, which was consequently free from all stain.’ And Saint Bonaventure more expressly says, ‘It was becoming that the Blessed Virgin Mary, by whom our shame was to be blotted out, and by whom the devil was to be conquered, should never, even for a moment, have been under his dominion’.”

St. Alphonsus Liguori

Common sense

One of the most appealing aspects of Catholicism is its enduring common sense, its unfailingly perfect blueprint for living happily and peacefully in this life and achieving eternal salvation in the process. The beauty, logic, and grace of its sacraments can be found in no other religion. Even though the gate is narrow, we have been promised by Our Divine Saviour that we can gain heaven if we persevere in our Faith. And yet, the simple and virtuous life to which most good Catholics aspire has become complicated lately, due in good part to the confusing behavior and leadership of the Catholic hierarchy and especially its embrace of ‘political correctness’.

Political correctness is, in fact, a manifest incorrectness.

Political correctness leads to many contradictions and much confusion, especially when found in the Mystical Body of Christ and particularly in the successors of the Apostles. Others have written extensively and more expertly on the subject but let me consider for the moment a few examples which help make my point.

Many good Catholics today are strongly committed to and actively involved in the fight against the destruction of human life by abortion on demand. They make enormous personal sacrifices on behalf of pro-life causes and are willing to take to the streets to win this battle. Yet, most of their bishops give only lip service to this struggle and, in the name of political correctness refuse to chastise publicly political and other Catholic public officials who aid and support these murderous practices. They ignore the example of many of their own  (e.g.:  John Fisher)  who refused to be intimidated by the King himself.

The Catholic Church has been involved recently in one of the most despicable sexual scandals in its history, a scandal that has virtually destroyed the Church’s credibility and its moral authority. In answer to this scandal, the bishops formed committees, they pleaded for forgiveness and understanding and for our patience while they  allegedly corrected the situation. Yet they refuse to admit to the rampant homosexuality responsible for the problem, they refuse to cry out against this terrible sin, mainly for fear of offending the homosexual activists within and outside of their ranks.

What about putting a stop to those public figures receiving communion but are clearly living in mortal sin? What about  obedience to the Pope and providing the extraordinary form of the Mass in all parishes? What about ‘holy anger’ against the rampant corruption among African bishops?

All of these violations of common sense and good will are to the Catholics in the pews a widening of the credibility gap to a virtual chasm. Oh, if only these bishops had the courage, the conviction, the faith of St. Thomas Becket! If only there were a St. Francis de Sales   or a St. Charles Borromeo among our bishops today!

There are countless other glaring contradictions driven by the poisonous posturing of political correctness that have surfaced in today’s Church. One in particular comes to mind in the form of the so-called outreach for unity with other religions. This false ecumenism (nothing to do with the encyclical ‘Dominus Jesus’)   is one of the most deadly forms of political correctness, with its constant apologies and its unworthy search for areas of compromise on both doctrine and liturgy. The Roman Catholic Church is the only religion in the world that holds and professes the full and essential body of truths necessary for man’s salvation. That is why our leaders and all of us who are Catholics and enjoy the fullness of the Faith are obligated to believe and to propagate these truths to our fellow men without blemish.

Common sense tells us that if our Catholic message is to be fully understood and accepted it must be taught clearly and in its entirety and our personal example must reflect our beliefs with no compromise. Jesus spoke unambiguously and without fear of men’s opinions.  As His faithful followers we can do no less.

The Catholic Faith makes perfect sense – let’s use our common sense in living it, in teaching it.

Arte?

Mi piace visitare le chiese. Tutte le volte che mi trovo in un paese, in una cittadina o in una grande metropoli e ne incontro una sulla mia strada, ci entro volentieri. E non solo per un fatto devozionale, ma anche in ricerca di cose belle. Si, perché tutte le chiese offrono sempre qualcosa da ammirare: spesso sono dei veri e propri musei con ingresso gratuito. Una delle cose che più mi attrae, sono le vetrate – ma solo quando queste rappresentano con chiarezza un personaggio o un evento storico o biblico.

Un paio d’anni fa ebbi a leggere come un maestro di spiritualità le paragonava alle anime. Scure, incomprensibili e tristi se prive di luce, ma splendenti di mille entusiasmanti colori, se baciate dal sole. Egli sosteneva, con una ragione incontestabile mista a poesia, che la grazia divina, l’amicizia divina, trasforma le anime in splendori di bellezza come il sole trasforma anonimi vetri grigi, in sfolgoranti opere d’arte. Da un po’ di tempo però mi è capitato di imbattermi solo in strane vetrate, moderne, nelle quali macchie di colore dalle forme incomprensibili mi lasciano perplessa sul loro significato.

A volte, parlando con un sacerdote o con un parrocchiano lì presente, mi sento dire frasi del genere: ‘L’autore ha voluto esprimere il suo personale modo di vedere la creazione …’, ‘E’ l’interpretazione intensa e personalissima dell’episodio della fuga in Egitto …’, ‘Rappresenta l’istituzione dell’eucaristia come il pittore l’ha sentita nel suo intimo …’, ‘Raffigura la preghiera che sale a Dio …’, ecc. Io ascolto sempre con attenzione le spiegazioni, ma rimango nel contempo molto perplessa. Esattamente come rimasi perplessa sabato scorso di fronte ad un quadro, in un negozio d’arte moderna, rappresentante triangoli, rombi, esagoni, quando lessi il titolo nella sottostante targhetta: ‘Ragazze al mare’.

Io mai sarei arrivata, con le mie sole forze, ad immaginare che quelle forme geometriche avessero un simile significato, ed anche allora mi scontrai con l’usurata formula: ‘Ma, Signora, pensi all’abilità del pittore, capace di reinterpretare la realtà … ecc.’ Mi sorse il dubbio, un po’ cinico, che il famoso artista semplicemente non fosse in grado di dipingere figure umane, e che avesse ripiegato sulle più semplici figure geometriche al fine di mascherare questa sua incapacità.

Amo i bei disegni, i colori, i quadri ad olio, gli acquarelli, i mosaici, e ammiro questa vena artistica che il Creatore ha donato ai miei simili ma in molti casi oggi, scusate, è come se la mano di un vandalo, solo per odio contro coloro che amano il bello, o per invidia ed incapacità di concepire una scena sacra o ammirare le bellezze della creazione e riprodurle fedelmente, avesse gettato un grosso sasso contro una splendida vetrata o dispettosamente sarebbe passato sopra un quadro strofinando la pittura con le sue mani e i suoi piedi, annullando ogni sembianza con la realtà.

La gente ama il bello. Le persone si affezionano alle belle opere che trasfondano un po’ di se stesse, del loro mondo, della loro vita, e patiscono se le vede distruggere o danneggiare. E tanto più il loro animo è sensibile, tanto più ne soffrono.

Ardisco troppo a sostenere che in qualche modo a noi incomprensibile anche Dio – pur felicità infinita ed immutabile – patisce se vede la sua opera migliore, quella che ha fatto a Sua immagine e somiglianza, quella che più ha amato ed ama, deturpata, disgregata e avvilita?

Advent!

Today is the First Sunday of Advent. For most, this marks the beginning of the shopping season. The department stores, like the great cathedrals of Mammon they are, will be adorned for the high holy days of the financial year, sparkling with lights, bursting with goods, bustling with buyers. But I don’t intend this to be another lament over the secularization of Christmas. Such jeremiads and rebukes come with the season, and they have not , to date, had much influence on the conduct of affairs. It is all very well to remind our neighbours to keep Christ in Christmas, but it is hardly practical advice to one who has not kept Christ in any other season. It is not as though He can be found in the attic among the holiday ornaments, dusted off and put on display for a month or so.

Even those of us who realize that Advent is a penitential season, albeit not on a par with the gravity of Lent, continue to live much as usual – and though we might be loath to admit it, we are very much swept up in the commercial culture. We might set up our Advent candles and refrain from decorating too early, but we will also be making vigorous use of our credit cards, and our closets will be stuffed with presents and wrapping paper. And so the cycle of the season will wind on and wind down, until in February the advertisements will shift our attention to diamond jewelry and flowers and candy and romantic getaways in celebration of St. Valentine’s Day. And so the liturgical year and the commercial year will keep pace side by side, like two horses yoked to the coach in which we ride through life in a familiar cycle.

Perhaps this is the problem: that we think of life as a cycle, as a thing that goes round, always returning to its starting point. And perhaps this is why we seldom change.

Will this Christmas find us much the same as last Christmas? Ideally, it should not, for we are told that in the spiritual life one either ascends or descends – there is no standing still. But there is a kind of negligible motion, a slight bobbing up and down that is much like standing still. And most of us, I suspect, remain in this more or less stationary position.

With the arrival of Advent, we have a golden opportunity to renew the spiritual combat, to fight for our genuine reformation. To do this, however, it is necessary that we stop thinking of life as a cycle, and realize it as a spiral: not as a thing that goes round and round, but as a thing that can go upward in ever ascending circles of light, and brighter light. Our great mystics lived in this spiral of the spirit, and some have left us moving accounts of their ascent. Among such literature, however, nothing appears to me as more practically helpful than the writings of the desert fathers, those early monks and hermits who saw everything under the aspect of eternity. For them, each day was a renewed adventure in the struggle of the spirit to reach its Creator and achieve what they called the Sabbath rest. Their writings are much like military manuals: descriptions of the lines of attack the enemy employs and the appropriate means of repulsing these attacks, along with methods of meditation that can eventually place one in an impregnable position.

May we all keep Our Lord with us, every minute of every day, during this Advent season as never before – always tomorrow more than today. Let us approach the silent and holy night of Christmas rightly absorbed by the image of a child in a manger and His Mother, never forgetting that the Child was born to exchange the wood of the manger for the wood of the Cross – as atonement for a fallen world. The Mother, kneeling at the manger and wrapping her child in swaddling clothes was destined to kneel at the foot of the Cross after her child had been cruelly stripped of His garments – the price of atonement for the Coredemptrix.

May we all, this Advent, heed ‘the voice of one crying in the desert: prepare the way for the Lord, make straight his paths’ (Isaiah 40:3).

Giornata della Bellezza

Mi è stato chiesto da http://www.torietoreri.splinder.com/ di aderire alla Giornata della Bellezza.

Lo faccio con piacere.  Ecco il mio contributo:

 

“Interroga la bellezza della terra, interroga la bellezza del mare, interroga la bellezza dell’aria diffusa e soffusa. Interroga la bellezza del cielo, interroga l’ordine delle stelle, interroga il sole, che col suo splendore rischiara il giorno; interroga la luna, che col suo chiarore modera le tenebre della notte. Interroga le fiere che si muovono nell’acqua, che camminano sulla terra, che volano nell’aria: anime che si nascondono, corpi che si mostrano; visibile che si fa guidare, invisibile che guida. Interrogali! Tutti ti risponderanno: Guardaci: siamo belli! La loro bellezza li fa conoscere. Questa bellezza mutevole … chi l’ha creata, se non la bellezza immutabile?”

Sant’Agostino

Vittime d’un sistema razzista?

Secondo i media, in Italia, oggi il razzismo avvelena il clima della convivenza. Lo si intravede ovunque nei rapporti di lavoro, negli scambi interpersonali, nel-le scuole, negli uffici pubblici dove magari s’in-contrano difficoltà di lingua. Si vuole dire: siamo tutti razzisti, viviamo in un universo razzista. E come il razzismo è l’altra piaga altrettanto ripugnante e dibattuta: il bullismo. I due atteggiamenti sono prodotti della stessa matrice, puntano a sopraffare l’altro, soprattutto se incapace di difendersi.

La vigliaccheria non ha vergogna. E’ molto tenue il divario che li separa. L’unica cosa che li differenzia è la vittima. Se questa è italiana, si ha bullismo, se non è italiana, è razzismo. A questi due odiosi atteggiamenti abitualmente se ne aggiunge un terzo: l’isterismo. Sotto la sua guida si leggono i fatti in maniera distorta, si ingrandiscono a dismisura, si aggiungono particolari, se ne tralasciano altri. Si cerca solo quello che risponde al proprio obiettivo e se non si trova niente, si inventa.  Se si vuole che l’immigrato figuri come umiliato, sfruttato, emarginato, come colui che viene trattato da nemico, non si farà altro che cercare materiale a conferma della propria opinione. Ci sono esempi che la smentiscono? E’ meglio ignorarli o fingere che non esistano.

Sul treno l’altro giorno, di fronte a me, un giovane di colore si intratteneva in serena conversazione con un italiano. Questo lo martellava di domande riguardanti il tipo di lavoro, gli orari, le ore lavorative settimanali, i colleghi, la retribuzione (!) Ad ogni domanda seguiva una risposta che non lasciava intendere niente di negativo, anzi ci teneva a rimarcare i buoni rapporti sia con il datore di lavoro sia con i colleghi dai quali era spesso invitato a far festa in occasione di determinate scadenze. Si capiva come tra i colleghi ci fosse stato un clima di amicizia. Il giovane lasciava trasparire senza mezzi termini la sua soddisfazione, mettendo in imbarazzo l’interlocutore, cui evidentemente sarebbero state più gradite risposte di altro genere. Era fin troppo chiaro il desiderio dell’interlocutore: sentire lamentele o recriminazioni. Niente di tutto questo. Ho pensato: ecco un esempio che non troverà mai posto sullo schermo televisivo. Smentirebbe lo stereotipo invalso nei mezzi di comunicazione. Non si vuole accettare che ci sia chi è contento e si trova bene nel paese che lo ospita. Va ribadita la convinzione: gli italiani sono razzisti. Chi non ha il coraggio di ammetterlo, mente.

Ecco un altro fatto: un gruppo di immigrati sono invitati ad una assemblea, dove è ad essi offerta la possibilità di esprimere i loro problemi – attese, esigenze, bisogni, desideri ed eventuali richieste. Con sorpresa di chi aveva organizzato l’incontro non sono emersi né risentimenti né rimproveri. L’unico rimprovero è venuto dallo stesso conduttore dell’incontro. Con tono risoluto ha concluso: non si ha il coraggio di dire la verità! Viene spontaneo chiedersi: quale verità? Naturalmente quella voluta dal cliché prestabilito.

Mi rincresce che non si voglia accettare la presenza di immigrati contenti. Sarebbe bene che anche questi ve-nissero ricordati come esempi da imitare. Può darsi che ci sia diffidenza o indifferen-za nei confronti di chi versa in estremo bisogno, come del resto certi episodi lasciano intendere, ma l’esagerazione è diso-nesta, non giova né fa onore alla buona causa. Lasciamola sta-re l’immagine del nemico, così violenta e oltre che violenta anche falsa, cerchiamo piuttosto l’immagine dell’amico che invita all’incontro fiducioso. Al nemico sono correlati significati deprimenti, quali odio, lotta, risentimento, rifiuto. Un po’ di equilibrio nell’interpretare determinati fenomeni non guasta mai, anzi aiuta a non essere vittime di pregiudizi che in fondo non fanno altro che deprimere i rapporti della convivenza.

Homeschooling

A child hungers for caritas (God-like love) from parents, siblings, and other adults and peers in his community. In an earlier, healthier society, this included impromptu lessons, innocent affection (hugs and kisses) and even necessary correction, provided consistently by many adults, even strangers in public settings. Such a social milieu, once called Christendom, is the ideal foundation of true psychological health.

Today, in those fortunate countries that allow it, parents homeschool precisely because they have recognized the importance of re-creating Christendom at least within the ‘walled garden’ of their homes.

The child suffers when caritas fails in his world, when his sense of innocence and trust is consistently betrayed by one or more adults. Most homeschooling parents have recognized that they can no longer rely on the majority of adults in society (especially in schools) to be even minimally respectful of Catholic views and beliefs.

Homeschooling provides a much needed shelter from a dysfunctional ‘real world’ (not unlike protecting one’s child from exposure to contagious diseases). The homeschooled child senses that the adults in his life have taken a courageous and most difficult stand against the currents of neo-pagan culture, and that they are motivated by true caritas – love of neighbor (in this case one’s children) for the love of God. Statistics show that homeschooled children display the greatest leadership potential at college level, and are the most socially mature and adept (Robin Wallace ‘First Wave of Homeschoolers comes of age’, Fox News Channel Website) . This is because they have developed true self-respect, the psychological result of having been loved. The child whose parents have spent years homeschooling, as a living sacrifice, knows deeply that he is cherished.

Parents cannot provide absolute protection from harm for their children. Accidents, illnesses, and abuses of various kinds may come. But parents can strive heroically to provide the spiritually and psychologically healthy home atmosphere that will prepare a child to withstand the spiritual and physical assaults.

One prominent psychiatric textbook (Kaplan’s and Sadock’s ‘Comprehensive Textbook of Psychiatry) notes that most child abusers seek to approach a child gradually, by incremental invasions of the child’s intimate space, but that ‘healthy, protected, self-assured children rebuff the intrusions’. Children do need to be instructed (in private, one on one with a parent) that certain types of touching are wrong, and that the child should report these to his parent with the assurance that he will be believed, no matter who did the touching. The bond of trust forged in homeschooling, in which parents regularly participate with their children in the critique of various outside authority figures (e.g. people in the news, characters in books or movies,  public figures praising sexuality in the guise of fashion, priests in their homilies, etc.) can be wonderfully protective in this area. Abused children, by contrast, have often learned to follow a false logic, according to which they always follow authority figures even when such figures command them to do evil.

A very common question by homeschooling parents is:  “I know my children have learned at home, but I wonder if they would have learned more in school.”  Maybe, although personally I don’t think so.  Psalm 78 is a great one in relation to homeschooling.  Please read it in light of what God tells parents to do.  Nowhere in the Bible does it say for Rulers (the government) to train all the children.  Everywhere the Bible tells parents to teach, train, correct, etc.  It is a God given responsibility and authority.

Whether you teach them at home or send them away to school, the responsibility is yours. A ship’s captain can retire for the evening and pass control to the second or third in command.  But if the ship is wrecked, the captain is ultimately held accountable.  It is the same with parenting and training.  The weight of the responsibility and authority is solely on the parents.

Ps: did you know that there are many famous men and women from throughout history who were homeschooled as children? Read here.

Non fa scandalo …

Ma quante pretese, e che tormento con questa storia dei cristiani perseguitati nel mondo, delle suore arse vive dai fondamentalisti indù, con la Chiesa che implora addirittura un intervento dell’Onu perché metta fine a quegli sporadici episodi di discriminazione religiosa che esageratamente i cattolici definiscono ‘cristianofobia’. Ma davvero, con tutti i guai che infestano il Pianeta, dovremmo preoccuparci dei villaggi cristiani in India, rasi al suolo, degli orfanotrofi incendiati, dei bambini inseguiti fin nella giungla da branchi di fanatici armati di coltelli? Dovremmo dare credito ai rapporti sulla Chiesa oppressa nel mondo dettagliatamente illustrati su pochi giornali?

Come se davvero potessero smuovere la coscienza mondiale i vescovi cinesi spariti per non aver accettato la sottomissione del silenzio patteggiata col regime, i trecentomila cristiani inghiottiti nel nulla nella Corea del Nord, i sacerdoti sterminati e le suore eliminate, le decine e decine di missionari cattolici massacrati negli agguati che insanguinano il sud delle Filippine, gli attentati in Indonesia contro le comunità cristiane colpevoli soltanto di aver esibito un crocifisso. In Arabia Saudita i cristiani non possono costruire chiese, se vengono trovati in possesso di una croce rischiano la morte, sono sottoposti all’attenzione asfissiante di un corpo speciale di aguzzini, la polizia religiosa (e sommariamente condannati) per un niente se solo si azzardano a fare ‘proselitismo’. Dovranno forse turbare la quiete religiosa del mondo con simili inezie?

E chi chiede un rudimentale principio di reciprocità nell’espressione della libertà di culto (libere chiese e libere moschee in liberi Stati) non si fa forse paladino di una deleteria campagna di avvelenamento dello scontro tra religioni? Nel sud del Sudan i cristiani uccisi dalle bande schiaviste che hanno agito nel nome dell’islam più radicale ammontano a due milioni (si, due milioni): non fa più notizia. Nemmeno nel Darfur, dove la carneficina continua, milioni di persone perdono la vita per via della loro religione, ma l’Onu, saggiamente e prudentemente, si ostina a non chiamare genocidio il genocidio.

In Nigeria, i fondamentalisti, con apposite spedizioni punitive su cui sarebbe il caso che la comunità internazionale continuasse a non intervenire per non guastare con ingiustificato sdegno la pacifica coesistenza tra popoli e religioni, hanno annientato ventimila cristiani e distrutto non meno di cinquecento chiese. Ma sarebbe assurdo e pericoloso per la serenità del mondo, avvalorare la storia della ‘cristianofobia’. In Somalia, una suora di oltre sessant’anni troppo temeraria e fanaticamente convinta che fosse il caso di aprire a Mogadiscio un centro di raccolta per bambini dispersi e senza famiglia, Suor Leonella, è stata uccisa davanti al cancello dell’ospedale. I cristiani sono sottoposti a persecuzione, ridotti al silenzio, messi nell’impossibilità di conservare sia pur nascosti e non esibiti, i simboli della loro fede, in Egitto, Pakistan, Iran, Yemen ma non si dovrebbe generalizzare per non dare spazio ai nemici della pace religiosa.

E per non intasare gli uffici dell’Onu, già oberato di lavoro per dover affrontare anche queste quisquilie. O no?

(Pierluigi Battista,  Corriere della Sera)

Behold, your King!

Tomorrow, Sunday, we celebrate the feast of Christ the King. In the Gospel we read the fascinating story of the trial of Jesus by Pilate. It is indeed the story of the trial of truth. It is the story of a throng moved to blindness by passion. Amongst the throng there is one who stands out as having the greatness to recognize the stature and the innocence of Jesus. This is Pilate. He first tries to evade his dilemma by compromise. He tries to have Jesus released using the Jewish custom of releasing a prisoner on the festival day. But the people called out for the release of Barabbas, a thief and a murderer. What an irony! Then Pilate had Jesus scourged but the crowd still cried out, “Crucify him, Crucify him!” Then they put some more pressure on Pilate. “If you release this man you are not a friend of Caesar’s.” The reports going to Rome, they said in effect, might not be good and Pilate may not find himself retiring with the accustomed promotion in rank.

In the trial of Jesus, when Pilate asks him, “Are you the King of the Jews?” there is a shifting of roles. It is Pilate and his capacity to live the truth that is brought into trial. Jesus said “I came into the world for this; to bear witness to the truth; and all who are on the side of truth listen to my voice.” Pilate was condemned when he failed to listen to the voice of truth.

To have Christ as our King is to follow the way of truth and it is often a heroic way to follow.

The wisdom of the East has always taught that one cannot be silent and continue to be dishonest at the same time. One can say prayers, and worship and sing, and drown out the voice of conscience. But in silence honesty shouts. This is one of the reasons why meditation is not a popular kind of prayer. It is too threatening. It puts us on the spot like the innocence of Jesus put Pilate on the spot and made him judge himself. Silent meditation is a way of prayer for those who have the courage to follow the King of Truth.

Note: In the Novus Ordo, this Feast was moved from the last Sunday in October to the last Sunday of the Season after Pentecost, which is the Sunday before Advent Sunday. The effect of this is to interrupt the relationship between the reign of Christ with His Saints, who are commemorated en masse on 1 November, and the necessity of our recognizing His Kingship now, during this “thousand years” of the Church Age. With the Feast moved to the very last Sunday in the Time After Pentecost (which, this year, is tomorrow), unfortunately it leads one to believe that Christ isn’t King now, and that all persons and nations don’t need to recognize Him as King now — but that He will be recognized as King only at the end of time when He reveals Himself at His Second Advent. In other words, the moving of the Feast symbolically defeats the very purpose of the Feast, which is to not only honor the very fact of His Kingship, but to pray for the conversion of all people and nations to His Church so that souls will be saved and the social order will conform to the moral law.

Mi parevano ridicolezze …

Gli uomini hanno sempre desiderato guardare il mondo dall’alto.

Gli antichi greci, che avevano il senso dello spazio e della misura umana delle cose, hanno immaginato di volare, pensando che la terra vista dall’alto poteva accrescere la loro conoscenza del mondo. Poiché non avevano i mezzi tecnici per farlo, il volo è rimasto per loro una metafora e una fantasia. Sulle ali della fantasia volano gli eroi che essi hanno inventato: Icaro, Caronte, Menippo, i quali scoprono dal cielo, prodigiosamente, tutto ciò che non è possibile da terra, desumendone delle verità stupende.

Ci sono alcune pagine di Luciano di Samosata, scrittore satirico del II secolo, in cui si racconta tutto ciò che Menippo, l’uomo che è riuscito a volare e guardare dall’alto il mondo, trae dalla sua esperienza. Egli realizzò la sua conquista, che anticipa di duemila anni quella dei piloti d’aereo, fantasticamente, utilizzando le ali delle aquile e degli avvoltoi: “Presi dunque questi uccelli, e tagliai accuratamente l’ala destra dell’aquila e la sinistra dell’avvoltoio, le congiunsi, me le attacai agli omeri con forti corregge, adattai alle punte un ingegno per tenerle unite, e feci la prima prova, saltellando e aiutandomi con le mani, e come le oche che appena si levan di terra, io andavo su le punte dei piedi e dibattevo le ali. Accortomi che riuscivo, divenni più ardito, e montato su la cittadella mi diedi in giù, e venni fin sopra il teatro. Fatto questo volo senza pericolo, ne tentai altri più lontani e più alti: e spiccatomi dal Parneto o dell’Imetto andavo librato fino a Geranio – e di là sopra l’Acrocorinto, e po su Foloe, sull’Erimanto, sino al Taigete …”.

E così volò alto sul mare: “… per modo che a un tratto volgendomi in giù non sapevo più dove fossero questi monti e questo sì gran mare – e se non avessi scorto il colosso di Rodi e la torre del Faro, mi sarebbe interamente sfuggito dov’ero. Ma queste due moli altissime e l’Oceano che tranquillo rifletteva i raggi del sole, mi fecero accorto che io vedevo la terra. E come vi ficcai gli occhi mi si parò innanzi tutta la vita umana, non pure le nazioni e le città, ma gli uomini stessi, chi navigava, chi guerreggiava, che coltivava i campi, chi piativa …”.

Dalla sua esperienza Menippo ricava che “… tutte le cose svariatissime che si rappresentano su questo gran teatro mi parevano ridicolezze e specialmente mi facevano ridere coloro che contendono per un pezzo di terra, che superbiscono di coltivare le pianure di Scione o di possedere quella di Maratona presso il Monte Enoe, ovvero mille iugeri in Acarnania – perché tutta la Grecia, di lassù, non mi pareva di quattro dita, e in paragone l’Attica non era più che un punto …”.

Il volare sopra la terra serve dunque a Menippo per ridimensionare l’uomo, vederlo nella sua più esatta misura. Il volo è infatti un modo per astrarsi dal mondo, dalla superficie terrestre piena di conflitti e di tensioni, guardarla da quello strato alto e silente dal quale le cose appaiono lontane e diverse.

Lo sguardo dall’alto è cioè una condizione per giungere a una verità diversa da quella che si coglie guardando le cose a fior di terra.

Ban the impact of Catholicism?

Secularists have always taken delight in suppressing as many visible traces of religious expression as possible. Proof is the recent order by the European Court of Human Rights to ban crucifixes from the walls of Italy’s classrooms. According to the court, the practice of hanging crucifixes on classrooms walls violates the right of parents to educate their children as they see fit. In addition, the practice contravenes children’s right to freedom of religion.

But traces of the Catholic Church’s presence in our culture are so deeply embedded that if every Catholic aspect were to be removed from Western civilization (1) doing so would take 500 years or more, and (2) there would be nothing left! There are myriad ways in which the Catholic faith has made its way into the daily lives of everyone, Catholic and non-Catholic alike. I will leave out the obvious, like art and architecture, holidays and festivities, food and drink, manners and dining etiquette, etc., and just mention a few of the countless lesser ways in which  Catholicism – unbeknownst to just about everyone today – has influenced so many familiar things.

For example, why do we refer to levels of a building as ‘stories’? In Romanesque and Gothic archi-tecture (both of which developed in a Catholic milieu) it was not uncommon for allegorical reliefs and sculptures to adorn the facades of churches or municipal buildings. Each of them told a story. Since by extension several strata of allegorical represen-tations told several stories, it became custom to indicate the height of a building by how many stories it had.

Also, it’s just amazing how deeply the Catholic influence has penetrated into the various nooks and crannies of Western legal practice. Law students, for example, often ‘clerk’ for a judge in the years following their graduation from law school. Law clerks and court clerks populate the legal system. It turns out, to many a secularists’ dismay, that the use of ‘clerk’ to designate such functions can be traced back centuries, to a time when practically everyone associated with the law had taken at least minor orders. Such clerics, being educated and literate, were especially suited to such work. The minor clergy eventually grew so closely associated with administrative and other bureaucratic duties that it became common to call these ‘clerical’ tasks and the people who carried them out ‘clerks’.

How about the origins of sign language? It was the French priest and abbot Charles-Michel d’Epeè who made a most profound contribution in developing the natural sign language of the deaf into a systematic and conven-tional language to be used as a medium of instruction.

Various forms of games and recreation are also directly related to Catholicism. The Schutzenfeste – the shooting festivals that constitute one of Switzerland’s most popular sports – what were they originally? They were training exercises for marksmen whose job it was to protect the Blessed Sacrament in Corpus Christi processions against attack by violent Protestants. Chess, too, has its Catholic origin. It was embraced and enjoyed by a great many clergy and laity, including even St. Teresa of Avila, who possessed extensive knowledge of the game. The piñata is likewise of Catholic origin. What we currently associate as meaningless birthday-party fun from Mexico began as good old-fashioned Italian sin-bashing during the holy season of Lent. The seven-coned piñata was said to represent the Seven Deadly Sins, all of which appear attractive and beguiling. Since sin is difficult to overcome, the piñata danced on a rope in order to elude being hit, and since sin is difficult to recognize for what it is, the piñata hitter would be blind-folded. Evil, however, can be defeated by good, and so the hitter had several aids at his disposal. The first was Virtue, symbolized by his stick or bat. The hitter also had the three theological virtues of Faith, Hope, and Charity. Faith helped him trust the directions shouted out by the crowd, Hope kept him persevering and directed his actions heavenward, while Charity materialized once he broke the piñata and the treats, representing divine gifts and blessings, cascaded out.

The word ‘dumbbell’ comes from a special contraption used to train people to ring the large and difficult bells that adorned churches. Using the real bells for training purposes was impractical since they would have disturbed everyone in the area. Silent ‘dumbbells’ were therefore employed instead. The healthy physique that came from practicing on these dumbbells proved so popular that even men who were not bell-ringers began to use them. Eventually the term was applied to exercise weights.

On and on: from ‘knock on wood’ to ‘something blue’ for the bride-to-be, from ‘tying the knot’ to our musical notation, traces of the Catholic faith, and of God himself, are evident everywhere in our world – even in places where Catholics themselves may never have thought to look. We should expect nothing less, of course, from a religion founded upon the incarnation of God in Jesus Christ, for that extraordinary event was the ultimate meeting of the divine and the earthly.

L’amore non chiede mai

Lo scrittore indiano Kahlil Gibran ha scritto un brano stupendo sull’amore. Comincia così: “Quando l’amore chiama, seguitelo anche se ha vie sassose e ripide.”

Un po’ di tempo fa  un’amica  mi ha raccontato del suo amore deluso, sterile, incompreso dall’indifferenza del compagno di vita che aveva scelto nella sua giovinezza e che da decenni è suo marito – ora si trova con le mani vuote, il cuore spento, i desideri svaniti, la vita senza significato e si domanda perché tutto questo è capitato a lei? Io non ho risposte da dare, mi sento come lei e come tanti una povera creatura che sa solo ascoltare e, nell’ascolto, c’è già gran parte della condivisione e della partecipazione.

Gibran aggiunge: “Quando l’amore vi parla credete in lui, benché la sua voce possa disperdere i vostri sogni, come il vento del nord devasta il giardino. Poiché come l’amore vi esalta, così vi crocifigge, e come vi matura, così vi poterà”.

Se pretendi ricambio d’amore, allora il tuo amore non è vero, non è totale, perché l’amore dà senza nulla chiedere in cambio. Anch’io tante volte sono rimasta delusa da amicizie che credevo vere, ma che alla minima difficoltà o sacrificio hanno mostrato la loro faccia contraria a quella che credevo di aver visto – è bastato un graffio, una puntura, per strappare un legame che credevo leale, fedele, sincero. E allora che fare?

Mi sono guardata attorno, ho visto malati soli e abbandonati, anziani soli in cerca di amicizia per confidarsi, genitori in affanno per l’avvenire dei loro figli, nonni che sono dovuti ringiovanire per prendersi cura dei nipoti, rimasti orfani dell’affetto di genitori schiavi dei loro egoismi. Ho pensato ai loro bisogni, anche se mi sentivo e mi sento impotente a soddisfarli e ho riflettuto che il pensare a me stessa era solo una perdita di tempo ed un sciupare la vita. L’unica cura per guarire dalle nostre malinconie, dal ricordo di un passato fallimentare è quella di vivere per gli altri. Vuoi la gioia? Non pensare solo a te stessa, ho poi detto alla mia amica, quante persone aspettano la tua carezza, il tuo sorriso, la tua mano, il tuo aiuto. Ma se io non sono capace di darlo? Cosa faresti se fosse tua figlia? L’amore tutto scopre, tutto inventa, di tutto è capace.

Gibran continua: “L’amore non dà nulla fuorchè se stesso, e non coglie nulla se non in se stesso, l’amore non possiede né vorrebbe essere posseduto, perché l’amore è sufficiente all’amore, e non pensate di dirigere l’amore, perché se vi trova degni, è lui che vi conduce.”

Nuccia assiste sua figlia da oltre 38 anni, non sa se vede, se sente, se prova emozioni, se capisce, ma è sicura che sente l’amore di mamma e papà – Luciana da oltre 23 anni segue Annamaria una bella giovane ora intubata, che ama la musica tanto che la mamma le ha fissato sul cuscino accanto al suo orecchio una radiolina che trasmette musica e preghiere. Annamaria sa solo sorridere, bisogna vederla quando riceve con fatica la comunione e la mamma le spinge l’ostia in bocca – ha un sorriso che non sembra di questa terra eppure non dice una parola: chissà nella sua testa cosa pensa, si legge la gioia nei suoi occhi, si vede che si sente amata! Quante realtà simili intorno a tutti noi. Molti hanno in casa nonni, mogli, mariti, figli che non hanno bisogno d’altro che di sentirsi amati. La loro vita dipende tutta dall’amore che gli si dona.

Paola mi ha raccontato che fino all’ultimo giorno ha accudito sua mamma centenaria come se fosse stata la sua bambina e, quando è passata all’aldilà, in lei è rimasta la gioia di non averle fatto mancare niente e di averle dato sempre e solo amore. Ricordo invece con amarezza una frase che ho udito un giorno uscendo dalla parrocchia della mia cittadina. Due donne scendendo i gradini della chiesa dove avevano seguito la Messa, si dicevano: “sembra sempre che mia suocera stia per morire e non muore mai, si lamenta sempre, ormai ha quasi cent’anni, sarebbe ora!”

Quanta pena ho provato. E pensare che uscivano dalla chiesa! A che saranno servite le loro preghiere? Saranno state una lode a Dio o un insulto alla sua Provvidenza? Perché chi non ama, non loda Dio, anzi, l’offende.

A chi si sente deluso dall’amore che in casa non trova, come ho detto alla mia amica, basta che si guardi intorno e viva per gli altri. Allora la vita cambia. Fino a quando viviamo per noi stessi e cerchiamo ricambio di amore, saremo sempre degli insoddisfatti, degli infelici. La vita, prima o poi, riserva per ciascuno di noi questa prova di amore assoluto, disinteressato, totale, consumato.

Quando l’amore chiama dice due parole che sono vecchie come il mondo: amore e dolore vanno a braccetto, come il giorno e la notte.

Gibran finisce il suo brano stupendo con questo pensiero: “Se amate davvero siano questi i vostri desideri: destarsi all’alba con un cuore alato e ringraziare per un altro giorno d’amore – addormentarsi la sera con una preghiera per l’amato nel cuore e un canto di lode sulle labbra.”

Alcuni penseranno che è difficile vivere e addormentarsi così, e lo è davvero se non si è imparato ad amare come ha amato Gesù: accogliendo e perdonando. Tutti abbiamo bisogno di essere accolti e perdonati, chi crede di non esserlo è il primo ad averne bisogno, perché dove c’è orgoglio non c’è Dio e dove non c’è Dio, non c’è pace – c’è sempre e solo divisione e odio.

Stamattina ho incontrato la mia amica che accompagnava due vecchiette a fare un po’ di spesa – ci siamo abbracciate, ci siamo scambiate le nostre notizie. Erano felicissime, tutt’e tre!

Not meant for a child?

I remember my first Bible. The book had a fragrance to it, not like paper from a mill, but something like perfumed parchment. That set it apart as holy. ‘The Poky Little Puppy’, after all, did not have fragrant red-dyed pages. On the inside of the front cover was a drawing of a man with a long beard and horn-like shafts coming from or penetrating into his forehead. The man was climbing down a mountain. He was carrying big tablets of stone, that began “I am the Lord thy God, thou shalt not have strange gods before Me”. I did have an inkling, even then, of what that meant: a childlike intimation of the Being beyond beings, of the God who made all and rules all, who Himself was strange because He was God, while all the ‘strange gods’ were not gods at all, as strange as they might be. On the inside of the back cover was a similar drawing of Jesus standing on a hillside, preaching to people below. This time the caption began “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven” . I’m still working on that one.

There were special laminated pages set between the Old Testament and New Testament, illuminated with small drawings and red letters, for recording births, baptisms, confirmations, marriages, and deaths. My name is there, in my father’s handwriting, as are the names of my brother and sisters. That alone gave me an idea as to the importance of the book. Here was something that had to do with what for me were, and still are, the mysteries of birth and death, not to mention the marriage between a particular woman and a particular man, without whom I would not have come to be.

That such love and reverence should be accorded a book, a family Bible, isn’t surprising. Perhaps it should be. Nobody would think of recording births, marriages, and deaths in laminated insets of Darwin’s ‘Origin of Species, or Marx’s ‘Das Capital’.

I remember reading “In the beginning God created heaven and earth, and the earth was void and empty, and darkness was upon the face of the deep; and the spirit of God moved over the waters”.  I didn’t even know what “waters” meant. I imagined darkness like a sea, and God brooding upon the sea. I found it strange that the “earth” was there but wasn’t there. But the words that fixed their wonder in my mind were those first three: “In the beginning.” Then came the words that flooded my mind, strange words that no storyteller I’ve known would conceive: “Then God said, “Let there be light”, and there was light”.

I didn’t stop there. I read on. I read about Adam and Eve and the serpent. I read about Cain and Abel. My eyes were dazed by the great lists of begats, of unpronounceable names, living prodigiously long lives, and occasionally inventing metalwork or settling in the land of Edom, named after a cheese. My child’s mind was fascinated. I read about Abram and Sara, and how hard it was for her to get a child, though I had no idea why she couldn’t get one from the same place where other people got them. I read about concubines, and had no clue what they were, though they all seemed to be women, like secretaries. I read about Lot and Mrs. Lot, and their visitors, and the rain of fire from heaven.  Moses in the wicker basket, the burning bush, the staff of Aaron, the gnats and locusts and boils (what are boils?), the frogs and the angel of death – then the ten commandments, the golden calf … finally I stalled at the law of purity in Leviticus. “What does the word is-sue mean?” I asked my mother. “Let me see” she said, taking the book and considering. She paused, and gave me an odd look. “I don’t know” She said.

After that I stopped reading in order, but bounced around the book – reading about Gideon, about Samson and the honeycomb in the carcass of the lion (the business with Delilah I found pretty dull and incomprehensible but a lion carcass and a honeycomb, that was another story entirely), about Tobias and the fish and I remember how sad I felt when the prophet Elisha was mocked by a gang of rotten boys and he cursed them and they were eaten up by some bears.

What was so exciting about the stories? Not the things I could imagine already, but the mystery of it all. They were not Disney tales easily understood, and easily forgotten. These stories were rooted in the heart of our humanity. The imagination of a child opens out to the half hidden, the unsearchable.

It is therefore a grave mistake, even if only for the sake of education, to suppose that schools should be neutral with regard to the being of God. An even worse mistake is to provide for our children, though with good intent, “children’s Bibles” and “children’s liturgies” that end up starving the imagination and stifling the faith.

A child will be aware from church, from family life and from his reading, of the tremendous mystery of that Father who is utterly different from us, yet Who knows our inmost thoughts. But the child for whom God has been reduced to a googly-eyed cartoon of a smiling old man will reject the cartoon as he grows older, believe me,  just as he rejects dressing up as Batman and running around the house in his shorts.

So please, please, let’s not throw Baltimore out and let Sesame Street in – not with our Bibles, not with the catechism, not in our Churches, not in our Liturgy.

Diavolerie … in chiesa

Persino la chiesa è piena di diavolerie, ormai.

La tecnologia è promossa all’onore degli altari, o almeno ci è arrivata molto vicino. Mai consultato un catalogo per cose di chiesa? Proviamo a sfogliarlo cominciando dal banale: i candelieri. C’era la cera, una volta; oggi ci sono i “candelieri elettrici ed elettronici, accensione a pulsante, spegnimento con timer regolabile da 7 minuti a 2 ore. Bassa tensione, basso consumo, prezzo speciale”. Del resto, la cera sporca e poi costa: Sant’Antonio capirà, se gli accendiamo davanti una lampadina anzichè il sorpassato lumino. In certi battesimi ormai è falsa persino la veste candida: anziché un vero camicino, si usano ritagli di stoffa inamidata che non si possono nemmeno indossare. Siamo al simbolo del simbolo, insomma: chissà, presto ci daranno una fotografia invece dell’acquasanta …

Un vero concentrato di tecnologia sono i confessionali. Ora si trovano in commercio certi modelli strepitosi, dotati di “climatizzatore automatico con telecomando”, pareti fonoassorbenti per l’insonorizzazione, inginocchiatoio anatomico (ma la confessione non si chiama anche penitenza?), pulsantiera dei comandi nonché, udite, udite, la grata con filtro igienico incorporato: per non farsi contaminare dai peccati, ooops! Forse dall’alito, dei fedeli. Con un abitacolo tanto confortevole, resta solo da chiedersi perché i confessori non si trovino mai e i penitenti non si confessino tre volte al giorno.

Ma un gadget di crescente successo è il radiomicrofonino: l’aggeggio ad antenna che permette ai preti di muoversi qual e là sull’altare durante la predica senza  inciampare continuamente in quei maledetti fili. E’ comodissimo e fa tanto talk show; anzi, suggeriamo ai produttori liturgici il modello color carne da appendere direttamente all’orecchio, come si vede in TV. Esiste già, invece, il “processoniere”: in sostanza, il pronipote dei vecchi megafoni a tromba, posti sul tetto di un’automobile e usati per recitare le litanie durante le processioni – questo “amplificatore radioconnesso” invece si porta ritto come un candelabro e funziona a batteria. C’è da scommettere che, con un aggeggio del genere, non sarà più un problema farsi sentire nemmeno dai mitici “lontani”. Eh si, il terzo millennio ha davvero introdotto meraviglie nella Chiesa! C’è anche, per esempio, l’ambone col cruscotto: un orologio-sveglia che indica discretamente se ci si dilunga nella predica. Ci sono le lampade votive a celle solari, c’è il rosario elettronico modello videogioco. Inoltre, è in vendita la cassetta per le offerte blindata, mentre in molti santuari funziona già il distributore automatico di immaginette plastificate (il cosiddetto santino a gettone).

Con gadget così, sfidiamo chiunque a sostenere che la Chiesa non si dà da fare per stare al passo coi tempi!

Ma l’oggetto che m’intriga di più è il turibolo ad accensione elettronica: “l’incenso brucia al semplice tocco di un pulsante e niente più ‘odore’ d’incenso”, esalta la pubblicità sulla stampa ecclesiastica. Basta carboncini sporchevoli che fanno le bizze, non più fiammiferi dunque – è sufficiente cambiare la pila ogni tanto.

Non ho trovato l’aspersorio col turbo.

Hail, full of Grace!

Ever since the acceptance by English-speaking Catholics of the so-called Jerusalem Bible, over thirty years ago, an extremely large number of them have espoused the error of the Protestants regarding Our Lady.

The error in question goes back over 400 years when, about 1526, William Tyndale, a Franciscan priest, brought out his own English version of the New Testament. It was so full of errors, that St. Thomas More wrote that looking for falsehoods in Tyndale’s bible was like looking for water in the sea. But this particular error of his became so firmly entrenched that it has gone on into the 20^th and 21^st centuries in Protestant bibles. It has now so tickled the intellects of many Catholic scholars and churchmen, that they too have inserted it into so-called Catholic bibles. It is that crass doctrinal error and great dishonour to Our Lady, by which She, from being accorded her singularly special relation to God, as being full of grace, is reduced to being one of many, as being only highly favoured.

This has come about by adopting the Jerusalem Bible as the Catholic Bible, in which, as in several Protestant bibles (The King James Authorised Version RSV; the Ecumenical Edition – Collins, 1975; and The New English Bible – Oxford University Press, 1970) it is recorded that the Angel Gabriel’s greeting words, the words of God to Mary, were: “Rejoice, so highly favoured! The Lord is with you.” [Lk 1:28]

How this is a dishonour to God and a detraction from His Most Holy Mother is, in part, very simply explained by the words of St. Thomas More. As recorded in The Lives of the English Martyrs (Dom Bede Camm O.S.B., Burns & Oates, 1910, Vol. 1, p.162), the Saint wrote of Tyndale’s heretical bible: “He changeth grace into favour whereas every favour is not grace in English, for in some favours there is little grace …”

Although the above simple answer may more than please and satisfy the truly pious, it is most unlikely, however, that it will satisfy the Greek scholars. These are the people who whenever they are confronted by some Protestant biblical innovation, immediately rush off to consult their Greek versions of the Scriptures. For them, as indeed for all, therefore, there is a more systematic explanation of Our Lady being called full of grace, based on the Greek Bible. This explanation comes from a well known scholar:

“The Angel Gabriel, addressing the Virgin of Nazareth after the greeting, chaire ‘rejoice’, calls her kecharitomene, ‘full of grace’. The words of the Greek text, chaire and kecharitomene are deeply interconnected: Mary is invited to rejoice primarily because God loves her and has filled her with grace in view of her divine motherhood! … The expression ‘full of grace’ is the translation of the Greek word kecharitomene, which is a passive participle. Therefore to render more exactly the nuance of the Greek word one should not say merely ‘full of grace’ but ‘made full of grace’, or even ‘filled with grace’, which would clearly indicate that this was a gift by God to the Blessed Virgin.” (Pope John Paul II, General Audience, 8 May 1996, L’Osservatore Romano, English Edition).

Could anything be clearer? Could anyone who call themselves Catholic and claims the love of Our Lady, continue to disparage Her as only highly favoured whom God has honoured with the unique title full of grace (our Blessed Lord excepted)? The Pope’s explanation shows clearly what the truth is.

We ought to remember that Our Lady, though only a human being and less than an atom compared to God, is nevertheless not just like another ordinary woman. The true words of god, Hail Mary, full of grace, announced Her uniquely special relation to Him. She would be the only human person who would rightly refer to God, the eternal, the infinite and uncontainable, as My Son.

The true words, full of grace, placed Her in a class of Her own as regards sanctity, a fact recognized by the Church for many centuries by according to Her the worship of hyperdulia. Her sanctity is greater than that of all the angels and saints in heaven, now and to come, taken together.

Full of grace means, in other words, that She had, from the moment of Her Immaculate Conception, a participation in God’s Own Divine Nature, sufficiently full to be the Mother of God. This, though not infinite, was greater than the rest of creation put together! The false Protestant claim that God called her only highly favoured, would reduce this exalted dignity of the Mother of God to that of other ordinary women: highly favoured, but not full of grace.

This horrendous detraction is now found in the Liturgy of the one and only true Church of God, of which She is the Mother.

Thus, we read in the new Lectionaries of the Catholic Roman Church, for the new Mass (but not in the Traditional Latin Mass) for the great Feasts of the Immaculate Conception and Assumption of Our Lady, that God through the Angel Gabriel, called Her, so highly favoured. The same occurs in many Masses of Our Lady on Saturday and also in the Mass of the fourth Sunday of Advent (Year B).

We should be convinced that in the realm of doctrines this detraction is as great a crime as it would be to say that our Blessed Lord only spoke figuratively when He said: Except you eat the flesh of the son of man, and drink his blood, you shall not have life in you. (St. John 6:54).

This is because every word of Holy Scripture is the word that God, not man, has revealed, even though a man was the instrument to write down the Divine revelation. God, again by means of another of his instruments, a Dogmatic Council of His Church, has, Himself, declared this fact. Thus the Solemn Definition of the Council of Trent (1545-63) confirmed infallibly that the Latin Vulgate version of the Bible is perfectly free from all error in matters of faith or morals, a genuine source of revelation and a faithful expression of the written word of God. As far as we Catholics are concerned, the effect of that Council’s definition of the composition and the contents of the Bible, is well expressed by the Catholic Encyclopaedia: “The great constructive Synod of Trent had put the whole sacredness and canonicity of the whole Traditional Bible forever beyond the permissibility of doubt on the part of Catholics.”

Consequently, bearing in mind the scholarly translations of the original texts of the Scriptures, it follows that the greeting of Her true children to Our Lady has always been and will always be, “Hail, full of grace”.

Nazaret

Gioia  o tristezza, guerra o pace, amore o odio, purezza o immoralità, carità o cupidigia sono tremende realtà che fanno il loro spartiacque sul crinale dell’interiorità dell’uomo.  Vivere le cose comuni, i rapporti con gli uomini, il lavoro quotidiano, l’amore dei nostri in un determinato modo può generare santi – in un determinato altro modo, può generare demoni.

Gesù a Nazaret ci ha insegnato a vivere da santi tutte le ore del giorno. Tutte le ore del giorno sono valide e capaci di contenere l’ispirazione divina, la volontà del Padre, la contemplazione della preghiera: la santità, insomma. Tutte le ore del giorno sono sante – basta viverle come Gesù ci ha insegnato a viverle.

E per questo non è nemmeno indispensabile chiudersi in un convento o stabilire alla nostra vita orari strani e qualche volta disumani. No. Basta accettare la realtà che viene dalla vita. Il lavoro è una di queste realtà, la maternità, l’educazione dei figli, la famiglia con tutti i suoi impegni, la cura della casa è un’altra di queste realtà.

Queste realtà devono essere santificate, e non dobbiamo pensare che si è santi solo se si prendono i voti.

Questa strana mentalità di considerare come sola materia di vita spirituale le ore di lettura o di preghiera e di non tenere in nessun conto le ore di lavoro e di rapporti sociali, quindi le ore più numerose, è motivo di gravi deformazioni, di vere storture, e, nel migliore dei casi, di personalità religiose anemiche o rachitiche.

Tutto l’uomo deve essere trasformato dal messaggio evangelico – non c’è azione in lui che possa essere indifferente all’esempio di Cristo – tutto contribuisce a santificarlo o a dannarlo.

Nazaret è la vita d’un uomo, d’una famiglia in tutta l’ampiezza dell’at-tività umana – è la maniera di vivere per trent’anni, quindi per il più lungo tempo a disposizione per realtà umane destinate a passare nel crogiolo della fede, della speranza e della carità.

Pochi hanno così bene riassunto la santità delle cose comuni come Gandi nei suoi scritti – ecco cosa dice il grande mistico indiano: “Se quando s’immerge la mano nel catino dell’acqua, se quando si attizza il fuoco con il soffietto, se quando si allineano interminabili colonne di numeri al proprio tavolo di contabile, se quando, scottati dal sole, si è immersi nella melma della risaia, se quando si è in piedi davanti alla fornace del fonditore … non si realizza la stessa vita religiosa proprio come se si fosse in preghiera in un monastero, il mondo non sarà mai salvo”.

Il più efficace metodo di apostolato è il vivere da cristiano. Il modo migliore di divulgare la nostra fede è vivere ogni momento della nostra vita sull’esempio della vita di Gesù a Nazaret. Specialmente oggi, in cui la gente, diventata scaltra, non vuole più ascoltare sermoni – vuole vedere! 

L’imitazione di Nazaret non è piccola cosa.

Quando pensiamo che a fianco di una famiglia santa che vive come quella di Gesù ci può essere una che, pur vivendo con lo stesso ritmo, la stessa fatica, la stessa giornata, gli stessi problemi, ne è agli antipodi come tristezza, odio, impurità, cupidigia, e a volte disperazione, non possiamo non essere convinti della immensa ricchezza interiore portata dal messaggio evangelico. Le stesse azioni, compiute sotto la luce di Dio, trasformano radicalmente la vita d’un uomo, d’una famiglia, d’una società.

Viviamo con la gioia di Cristo nel cuore. In questo modo il nostro lavoro, la normalità della nostra vita, manifesteranno ciò che siamo: cittadini cristiani che vogliono essere all’altezza, con gioia, delle stupende esigenze della nostra fede, nella sua pienezza.    

Quantity or Quality?

One excellent illustration of the profound differences between the Ordinary and Extraordinary forms of Mass can be seen in how each incorporates the greatest text or word of all: the divinely inspired Scriptures.

In the Traditional liturgy, Sacred Scripture is omnipresent in memorable lines, short enough to be remembered, pondered, and woven into one’s prayer life: the Introit, the Gradual and Alleluia, the Offertory, the Communion … the Word of God is prayed and prayed deeply in the Mass of All Times, as befits a rite bequeathed to us by a monastic culture of lectio divina.  In the best of circumstances the Word of God is sung, with tones exquisitely matching the poetry of the Latin language.

In this valley of tears (which we moderns, looking for more stress, have turned into a valley of speedy highways and instant emails), what are the texts we would take the trouble to slow down for and sing? As St. Augustine said: “Only the lover can sing”. We sing words we are in love with, or rather, words that remind us of the one we are in love with. Whenever the Epistle or the Gospel is chanted in the Extraordinary Mass , it makes my heart race – it is a love song, a song of the human heart caught up in romance with the Eternal Word.

In the new liturgy, by contrast, the Bible is nearly always merely read out, usually by people who could not declaim a text if their lives depended on it. There is no love affair – it is a sedate meeting where a certain amount of business has to be gone through, and I reckon not one in ten people could tell you, after Mass, what any of the readings were about.

Contrary to official propaganda, the Ordinary Form also offers the faithful less Scripture, qualitatively speaking, as the almost universal abandonment of the ‘Propers’ of the Mass and their replacement by hymns demonstrates.

The Epistle and Gospel of the Extraordinary Mass are always shorter, pithier, more directly relevant to the feast itself, and in this way, more pedagogically effective. This Mass lends itself to scriptural preaching and meditation, whereas ironically the new one does not, in spite of the supposedly greater ‘banquet’ of Scripture offered to the faithful. The old liturgy is literally saturated with Scripture, not only in the proper Antiphons and Prayers but in the unchanging prayers as well, and for this reason it is much more potent in the scriptural formation of the worshiping soul. But note that it is successful just by being what it is, a liturgy thick and rich and full of religion; it does not seek, rationalistically, to be a sort of Bible study.

For example, even though the Gospel of the Mass is reached in five to ten minutes in both the Extraordinary form (when recited) and the Ordinary one, with the former one feels as though one has been prepared for it: one’s soul has been tilled by Psalm 42, by the Confiteor, by the exchange Ostende nobis, by the ascent of the altar with its two beautiful prayers, and by the multi-faceted Collect that says so much in so few words. In the ordinary form, however, this portion is rapid and disjointed: sign of the Cross, greeting, Kyrie (often without a Confiteor, which has, in any case, been severely crippled), and lightweight Collect. There is little sense of a natural motion, an organic whole – it’s more like going through an agenda … then, wham, the reading – always done by a layman, usually a woman, who is dressed so as to be obviously non-ministerial, as if to represent that the readings are not part of the rational worship that has its pinnacle in the offering to God of the Word made flesh through the ministry of the priesthood.

There’s no way out: the Word of God is woven into the fabric of the ancient liturgy, bone of its bone, flesh of its flesh.

Exultate iusti in Domino

Exsultate iusti in Domino: rectos decet collaudatio … Esultate o giusti nel Signore: ai retti si addice lodarLo - Così recita l’introito della Santa Messa, secondo il rito in Forma Straordinaria, nella festa di Tutti i Santi.

Domani la Chiesa festeggia la sua dignità di “madre dei santi, immagine della città superna” (A. Manzoni), e manifesta la sua bellezza di sposa immacolata di Cristo, sorgente e modello di ogni santità. Non le mancano certo figli riottosi e addirittura ribelli, ma è nei santi che essa riconosce i suoi tratti caratteristici, e proprio in loro assapora la sua gioia più profonda. L’autore del libro dell’Apocalisse li descrive come “una moltitudine immensa, che nessuno poteva contare, di ogni nazione, razza, popolo e lingua” (Ap 7,9). Questo popolo comprende i santi dell’Antico Testamento, a partire dal giusto Abele e dal fedele Patriarca Abramo, quelli del Nuovo Testamento, i numerosi martiri dell’inizio del cristianesimo e i beati e i santi dei secoli successivi, sino ai testimoni di Cristo di questa nostra epoca. Li accomuna tutti la volontà di incarnare nella loro esistenza il Vangelo, sotto l’impulso dell’eterno animatore del Popolo di Dio che è lo Spirito Santo.

Ma “a che serve la nostra lode ai santi, a che il nostro tributo di gloria, a che questa stessa nostra solennità?”. Con questa domanda comincia una famosa omelia di san Bernardo per il giorno di Tutti i Santi. E’ domanda che ci si potrebbe porre anche oggi. E attuale è anche la risposta che il Santo ci offre: “I nostri santi – egli dice – non hanno bisogno dei nostri onori e nulla viene a loro dal nostro culto. Per parte mia, devo confessare che, quando penso ai santi, mi sento ardere da grandi desideri” . Ecco dunque il significato di questa solennità: guardando al luminoso esempio dei santi risvegliare in noi il grande desiderio della santità. Siamo tutti chiamati alla santità. Questa verità, ribadita da sempre dalla Chiesa,  è oggi riproposta in modo solenne alla nostra attenzione.

Festeggiamo quindi tutti i santi domani … e il 2 novembre ricordiamo i nostri defunti. Questo giorno è anche un’occasione per pensare religiosamente, cioè con fede e speranza, alla propria morte e spezzare la congiura del silenzio riguardo a essa.
Il Cristo ha donato al mondo la vittoria sulla morte: “La morte è stata ingoiata per la vittoria. Dov’è, o morte, la tua vittoria? Dov’è, o morte, il tuo pungiglione?” (1Cor 15,55). Gesù è venuto a liberare gli uomini dalla paura della morte (Eb 12,14), non ad accrescerla!
Grazie a Cristo, la morte non è più un muro davanti al quale tutto si infrange; è un passaggio, cioè una Pasqua. È una specie di “ponte dei sospiri”, attraverso il quale si entra nella vita vera, quella che non conosce la morte. Quindi questo giorno sia per noi la festa dei vivi. La festa di coloro che potranno raccogliere l’eredità e la promessa del Salvatore.

How shining and splendid are your gifts, O Lord
which you give us for our eternal well-being.
Your glory shines radiantly in your saints, O God
In the honour and noble victory of the martyrs.
The white-robed company follow you,
bright with their abundant faith;
They scorned the wicked words of those with this world’s power.
For you they sustained fierce beatings, chains, and torments,
they were drained by cruel punishments.
They bore their holy witness to you
who were grounded deep within their hearts;
they were sustained by patience and constancy.
Endowed with your everlasting grace,
may we rejoice forever
with the martyrs in our bright fatherland.
O Christ, in your goodness,
grant to us the gracious heavenly realms of eternal life.

A holy Sunday and All Saints Day tomorrow to you all and on the 2nd November we’ll remember and pray for, together, all those who have gone before us who are in purgatory.

* On All Souls’ Day a plenary indulgence, applicable only to the souls in purgatory, is granted to those who visit any parish church or public oratory and there recite one Our Father and one Credo.

* Also, on all the days from November 1st through November 8th inclusive, a plenary indulgence, applicable only to the souls in purgatory, is granted to those who visit a cemetery and pray even if only mentally for the departed.

Scarcely two heads who agree together

Every now and then I browse through a large religious book shop which carries both Catholic and Protestant titles together with a number of oriental contributions. In a recent visit to the shop I made a point of noticing content from the particular vantage point of disagre-ement among authors. Conflict abounds. Secularist tendencies oppose funda-mentalist, and vice versa. Liberation theologians reject the work of non liberationists, and again vice versa. Feminists are at odds with non feminists. Christology from above differs from Christology from below as does a ‘creation-centred spirituality’ from Trinitarian centred. Scripture studies are beset with the mutually contra-dictory positions of extreme critics on the left to evangelical critics in the middle and fundamentalist writers on the right. Papalist forces contend with anti-papalist. There are hundreds of shades of Protestant thought, many of them incompatible with one another as well as with Catholic theology.  In the area of concrete gospel living there is activism as opposed to mysticism and individualistic tendencies at odds with communitarian.

For anyone interested in objective truth and solid certitude the experience is depressing in the extreme.

We can find the same phenomena if we examine the thousands of papers read each year in philosophical and religious meetings. We cannot disagree with Pope Benedict when he remarks that philosophy has been ‘utterly torn in shreds’ to the point that its ‘practitioners understand one another less and less, there being found among them scarcely two heads who agree together’.

Theologians are hardly in a better situation. We must ask how disciplines so torn apart in their very membership can expect to command respect in other academic communities and among the simple faithful.

Mutual rejection among so many scripture scholars and theologians is one matter. Rejection of an authoritative Magisterium is quite another – even though the latter clearly promotes the former. Serious and moderate scholars have begun to note that much of current doctrinal rejection is not mere academic investigation. It implies a loss of faith, in most cases. These are hard words, no doubt, but they merit attention.

Christopher Derrick is plain: “There has been a widespread loss of faith among the Catholic scholars; many of those concerned are unwilling to face the fact of their loss and therefore desire most urgently (and at any cost in intellectual absurdity) that Roman Catholicism should somehow trans-mogrify itself into something in which they still do believe – into a vague pan-Anglican Christianity, perhaps, or some kind of social welfare humanism, garnished with a topping of Catholic terminology”.

According to St. Thomas the person who embraces heresy regarding one article of faith has, regarding all the other articles, not faith but only ‘an opinion according to his own will’.

This phenomenon is nothing new in the history of the Church. Newman’s struggles with nineteenth-century ecclesiastical liberalism present many points of contact with our struggles of today. The main difference is that the ecclesiastical left today is far more extreme than it was in his day, whereas the right today is less extreme.

We are all familiar with the confusions and doubts extensively spread among the faithful by dissenting theologians and their disciples today.  These doubts entail enormous pastoral problems.  Only when we realize how the New Testament requires unhesitating certitude about Jesus and His message as proposed by the Church will we be able to appreciate the extent of the damage dissent has done among our people. When confusion and doubt are viewed through naturalistic eyes, they may appear to be of minimal concern, but when they are seen through the eyes of the Lord and his Apostles, they assume gigantic proportions.