Face like an Angel

Archangel

This is a reflection on the Mass readings of the day.


“I do not want to be a martyr,” you may very reasonably think.

As our world becomes increasing militant in its secularization, what was once unthinkable begins to emerge as a possibility on the horizon: martyrdom again rising in the Western world, the world that we call free.

When considering the martyrs, we may think of bloody tragedy; of frightened Christians thrown to the lions and ripped to shreds, or of St. Sebastian’s entire body pierced with arrows before he finally succumbed. We may think of the loss of life, and of all that we hold dear in this life. And all of this we may interpret as failure, disgrace, chaos, destruction.

In today’s first reading, we are presented with the scenes leading up to the first Christian martyrdom, and the picture drawn is very different from what we might imagine. St. Stephen is strong, filled with the Holy Spirit, confident, and victorious. Even his enemies see his face as like to that of an angel.

Sometimes we forget that, as cruel and chaotic as their perpetrators may be, martyrdoms don’t occur at random, or casually. Because the persons in question are God’s chosen ones, the events are hand-choreographed with the greatest tenderness and attention to detail by the Creator of the Universe Himself. The martyrs themselves sense it, and they are filled with joy, even at the hour of their death.

And so, if we have nothing to fear in martyrdom, what can be said of the other, smaller tragedies that befall us? If we belong wholly to God, will He not choreograph the more minor occurrences of our lives with similar tender care? And if He is with us, who can be against us? (cf. Rm. 8:31)

As such we must heed the words of Jesus in today’s gospel: “Do not work for food that perishes but for the food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you.”

Along with the grace of their martyrdom itself, the martyrs received a profound consciousness of the value of earthly life vs. eternal life, and had their hearts set on the latter. Whether or not we become martyrs, they provide a relevant message for our earth-centered age.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Ask Jesus to plant your heart firmly in heaven. Ask Him to teach you to spend your life and your love on offering every moment to Him, seconding His Cross, that more persons may arrive there.

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The Meaning of Life

Thinker

This is a reflection on the Mass readings of the day.


St. John’s writing style, as exemplified in today’s first reading, displays an enchanting mix of great simplicity and poetic depth.

Take, for example, the reference to the water and the blood. Jesus has come through the water and the blood, and these bear witness to Him. This same John himself bore witness, in His gospel, to the water and the blood flowing from Jesus’ side, when it was opened with a lance after He died. In his gospel, John gave great importance to this, signaling it as the outpouring of His salvation to humankind.

But reflecting on today’s first reading, we may think that John is being a bit presumptuous when He points to God Himself as testifier on behalf of Jesus as His Son. When did John hear with His own ears God’s testimony? Sounds like he’s making an interpretative jump here…

But let us not forget. John did hear God the Father’s testimony, directly, audibly. He was one of the three disciples present at the Transfiguration, when a cloud overshadowed them and he heard a voice from the cloud say, “This is my beloved Son. Listen to him.” (Mk. 9:7)

He may or may not have been present at Jesus’ baptism, listening to John the Baptist’s preaching, when a voice came from the heavens and said, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.” It is speculated that he was, because he is thought likely to be the second, unnamed disciple of the Baptist mentioned in his own gospel who follows Jesus immediately afterward (cf. Jn. 1:35ff). Either way, he certainly knew of the event.

It is marvelous to think that this author of the first letter of John, written in such an unassuming yet profound style, actually heard the voice of God the Father testifying to His Son.

John tells us that he who possesses the Son possesses life. Here, in a way, the divide between earthly and eternal life blurs, just a little. Life for us is possession of the Son, here, as well as there. While we suffer here, and we will not there, this distinction starts to take second place as we begin, even here, to experience the joy of life in the Son.

The teachings of the Catholic Church about the possibility of salvation for those who do not know the Church, or indeed do not know Christ at all, seem to soften John’s statement. A recent embodiment of this teaching, from the Vatican II document Lumen Gentium: “Since salvation is offered to all, it must be made concretely available to all. But it is clear that today, as in the past, many people do not have an opportunity to come to know or accept the gospel revelation or to enter the Church. . . . For such people, salvation in Christ is accessible by virtue of a grace which, while having a mysterious relationship to the Church, does not make them formally part of the Church, but enlightens them in a way which is accommodated to their spiritual and material situation. This grace comes from Christ; it is the result of his sacrifice and is communicated by the Holy Spirit. It enables each person to attain salvation through his or her free cooperation.” (LG no. 16)

But this teaching, while it should cause rejoicing at God’s glorious mercy and desire for the salvation of every human, does not weaken John’s statement at all. There is, yes, the possibility for God, in His mercy, applying the infinite grace won by His Son on the cross, to grant the life of which John speaks, which is possession of the Son, at death to those who have lived a life striving unequivocally to understand the truth about God and to live by it, but have not known Christ.

But let us not be presumptuous of this mercy. The saints unanimously teach that, even among Christians, who are pampered by God with all the grace available through the sacraments and reflection on the Gospel to perfect their choice for Jesus, there are many who do not attain salvation due to the mediocrity of their choice for God. We must be deeply concerned for those in our secular world who, aware of the Gospel, reject a life in Christ casually and out of hand due to their unwillingness to conform their hearts and lives to a demanding ideal. And as for those who have never heard of Christ: If so many Christians, with the aid of so much grace, fail to hit the mark, how are those in practice without these aids and without clear doctrine to make the choice for the divine ideal? We must not presume on some extraordinary grace for these persons that exceeds the ordinary grace provided by the sacraments, Christian doctrine, and Scripture.

So, we must preach the Gospel.

All of this is very dramatic. But let us also remember, to anyone who approaches Jesus, even tentatively, He rushes with His divine aid to firm up their hearts, their resolve, their intent. Aside from the dialogue with the repentant thief on the cross, perhaps the most moving example of this is found right in today’s Gospel passage, in the exchange with the leper: “‘Lord, if you wish, you can make me clean.’ Jesus stretched out his hand, touched him, and said, ‘I do will it.  Be made clean.'”

If He wills it, Jesus can purify our hearts. And He does will it.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: We cannot escape from a dramatic but beautiful reality, namely, that Jesus calls us to a radical transformation through the adoption of a new mode of life, that can only be found in Him, in the Son–but that this transformation leads to unimaginable happiness. As St. John points out in his first letter, God the Father Himself bears succinct but unambiguous testimony to this. Let us approach Jesus today like the leper, and ask Him to cleanse our hearts, to purify them so that He can fully infuse them with His life. And let us pray with all the passion of our hearts for those who do not know Him.

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“Memento Mori” (“Remember Death”)

Skull on Desk

This is a reflection on the Mass readings of the day.


Today’s first reading starts with the word “Rejoice,” but the rest of the reading is more sobering than it is exultant.

The reading encourages the young person to enjoy the benefit of youth and put off unpleasantries while still able.

But also to remember God, for youth is fleeting…and then the reading goes on to use beautiful poetic metaphors for the aging and death that await all of us.

Aging: “Guardians of the house [one’s limbs] tremble”; “Grinders [teeth] are silent because they are few”; “they who look through the windows [eyes] grow blind”; “the sound of the mill is low [hearing loss]”; etc.

Death: “the silver cord is snapped, the golden bowl is broken”; “the broken pulley falls into the well”; “dust returns to the earth as it once was,” “life breath returns to God who gave it.”

As so often is the case, the Psalm response puts the point of punctuation on this message: “You turn man back to dust, saying, ‘Return, O children of men.’ For a thousand years in your sight are as yesterday, now that it is past, or as a watch of the night.”

The great spiritual masters of the Church are unanimous in advising us actively to meditate on our deaths–to imagine what the circumstance might be, to close our eyes and place ourselves there. This meditation, for example, forms an explicit part of St. Ignatius’s Spiritual Exercises. And the practice is depicted in much medieval and Renaissance art, wherein monks as they write are shown with a skull upon their desk, which is aimed at reminding them of their eventual death.

This is not some sort of macabre practice to spook us or make us sad. Rather, when we meditate on our deaths, if we do so vividly and aided by God’s grace, we may take on some of the mindset which, as our impending encounter with eternity increases our lucidity, could be useful for informing our priorities for today. Mindfulness of the rapidly passing nature of our lives will inform the wisdom with which we live each day.

Jesus had His own death always before His eyes, and today He speaks of it. He was well aware of the story arc of His life, and its conclusion. While we do not know the exact circumstances of our deaths, we can orient our lives as Jesus did toward those things that will matter for eternity, and wisely order our days according to the fleeting reality of our lives.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Unlike the disciples in today’s Gospel passage, let’s not be so afraid of the topic of death that we hesitate to ask Jesus questions about it. Close your eyes, and imagine your last moments, with as much vivid detail as your imagination can muster. Then, ask Jesus questions. How happy is He with the life you have lived, as you prepare for your definitive encounter with Him? How would He ask you to prioritize differently?

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