A wealth of Christian thought lies at our disposal, ways in which the believer can approach our creator. Our intimacy with the Lord becomes our earthly spiritual home built on the foundation of our Church. These explorations will shed light on the faith that can feed the childlike and offer a depth of understanding to satisfy the most inquisitive. Presenting the richness of our faith is the purpose of this blog. May it bring its readers an ever growing closeness to Jesus.
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"It is just that the saints are given to see without veils what the rest of us would just as soon not care to know."
Hans Urs von Balthasar makes this statement in his book on Karl Barth (The Theology of Karl Barth, by Hans Urs von Balthasar, translated by Edward T. Oakes, Ignatius Press, 1992, p. 375.) Balthasar goes on to remind us of the communal nature of sin; something we intuitively know to be true, but somehow fail to keep in the fore when considering the behavior of our brethren.
"Here we confront the mystery of man's solidarity in sin. Every personal sin is also a community sin: both in the sense of impairing the community but also being caused, to some extent, by the community’s sin. Far from circumscribing sin, it makes it weightier, putting new burdens of responsibility in the sinner. And since the effects of evil committed and good deeds left undone increase and multiply relentlessly, our debt is not paid off when our personal guilt is forgiven."
"The just man, to the extent that he shares an active portion in the holiness of the Redeemer, also receives a more active portion in the task of bearing a guilt not his own, thereby sharing in the very work of redemption. This finally reaches the point where he can no longer distinguish whether he is suffering for his own sins or for that of others. For Christ himself, when he was hanged on the Cross, no longer wished to make this distinction either. He endured God's malediction against sin, suffering vicariously for us all. And, because of Christ, the sinner who wants to share in the sufferings can no longer make this distinction either. The true follower of Christ joins Christ in that darkness that is all the more bitter because he knows he can never suffer alongside of Christ. No, this suffering highlights how deeply bound he is in solidarity with all his fellow sinners, who are jointly responsible for the cross of Christ."
Edward T. Oakes, S.J. was a Jesuit priest who passed away on December 6th, 2013. See ( http://www.firstthings.com/web-exclusives/2013/12/edward-t-oakes-sj-an-appreciation) for an introduction to Fr. Oakes. He was instrumental, along with Fr. Richard Neuhaus in piquing my interest in the work of Hans Urs von Balthasar. Oakes' book, Patterns of Redemption, was my intro to Balthasar.
At Wheaton Religious store I happened upon Fr. Oakes' last written work, The Theology of Grace in Six Controversies. Unable to resist the temptation and not withstanding what is to follow, I purchased the book. He liberally quotes Balthasar (which I love) and I find much of what he quotes worth posting to this blog. What follows is an excellent example of the way Balthasar can put into words what we intuitively know, but have not put into words ourselves.
This is from The Theology of Karl Barth, by Hans Urs von Balthasar, translated by Edward T. Oakes, Ignatius Press, 1992, p. 375.
"In temptation, we
come to appreciate how much of a dead-end sin really is. The sinner might do
what he will, choose according to his wishes; he might say Yes, say No, say nothing
at all. No matter. Whatever he does will be a contortion if grace (which he can
not count on!) does not come to transform everything in him from the very
roots. And even though it has been given especially to the saints to stare most
intently at this naked truth, something of this insight lies within every
Christian conscience. Anyone who truly loves God will taste of this
chastisement. It is just that the saints are given to see without veils what
the rest of us would just as soon not care to know."
(Oakes, p. 74)
What is it that the saints see more clearly? I offer as an answer a quote later in the chapter in which Fr. Oakes refers to St. Terese of Lixieux.
"After earth's
exile, I hope to go and enjoy you in my homeland ( patrie), but I do not want
to lay up merits for heaven. I want to work for Your love alone with the one
purpose of pleasing You, consoling your Sacred Heart, and saving souls who will
love you eternally. In the evening of this life, I shall appear before You with
empty hands, for I do not ask You, Lord, to count my works. All our justice is
stained in Your eyes. I wish, then, to be clothed in Your own justice and to
receive from Your love the eternal possession of yourself. I want no other
Throne, no other Crown, but You, my Beloved!"
Our homilist explained that the mystery of the Holy Trinity is inexplicable, pointing out as Augustine had, that it is beyond our capacity to clearly comprehend. Isn't the same true of the mystery of life? Psalm (8) asks: "When I behold your heavens. . . What is man that you are mindful of him, mortal man that you take note of him?" "Yet you have made him little less than the angels. . ." We stand before our own existence in uncomprehending awe at our creation by a Spirit so powerful and generous.
The first reading (Proverbs 8:22-31) describes this generosity. Wisdom says: "from of old I was poured forth, at the first, before the earth. . . .when the Lord established the heavens. . . when he fixed fast the foundations of the earth. . . then was I beside him as his craftsman, . . . playing before him all the while. . . and I found delight in the human race."
Maybe to comprehend the mystery of the Trinity we need to mimic the three Persons' generous, playful love. In generosity we may experience the heart of the Holy Trinity without needing to define it. Playful loving, not headwork, helps us comprehend Father, Son and Holy Ghost.
1 All creatures of our God and King,
lift up your voice and with us sing:,
alleluia, alleluia!
O burning sun with golden beam,
and shining moon with silver gleam,
O praise him, O praise him,
alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!
2 O rushing wind so wild and strong,
white clouds that sail in heaven along,
alleluia, alleluia!
New rising dawn in praise rejoice;
you lights of evening find a voice:
O praise him, O praise him,
alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!
3 Cool flowing water, pure and clear,
make music for your Lord to hear:
alleluia, alleluia!
Fierce fire, so masterful and bright,
providing us with warmth and light.
O praise him, O praise him,
alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!
4 Earth ever fertile, day by day
bring forth your blessings on our way;
alleluia, alleluia!
All flowers and fruits that is you grow,
let the his glory also show;
O praise him, O praise him,
alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!
5 All you who are of tender heart,
forgiving others, take your part;
alleluia, alleluia!
All you who pain and sorrow bear,
praise God and on him cast your care;
O praise him, O praise him,
alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!
6 Let all things their Creator bless,
and worship him in humbleness,
alleluia, alleluia!
Praise, praise the Father, praise the Son,
and praise the Spirit, Three in One:
O praise him, O praise him,
alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!
Our work as Christians is to love Christ more, so we can live more closely with Him. A challenge, but with a pay back? In today's gospel (Jn.14:23-29) Christ promises: "Whoever loves me will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our dwelling with him. . . . Peace I leave you; my peace I give you."
How do we begin to love Christ more? With praise: "We praise Thee, O God, and acknowledge Thee to be the Lord."
Te Deum laudámus: te Dominum confitémur.
Te ætérnum Patrem omnis terra venerátur.
Tibi omnes Angeli; tibi cæli et univérsae potestátes.
Tibi Chérubim et Séraphim incessábili voce proclámant:
Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus, Dóminus Deus Sábaoth.
Pleni sunt cæli et terra majestátis glóriæ tuæ.
Te gloriósus Apostolórum chorus;
Te Prophetárum laudábilis númerus;
Te Mártyrum candidátus laudat exércitus.
Te per orbem terrárum sancta confitétur Ecclésia:
Patrem imménsæ majestátis;
Venerándum tuum verum et únicum Fílium;
Sanctum quoque Paráclitum Spíritum.
Tu Rex glóriæ, Christe.
Tu Patris sempitérnus es Fílius.
Tu ad liberándum susceptúrus hóminem, non horruísti Vírginis úterum.
Tu, devícto mortis acúleo,
aperuísti credéntibus regna cælórum.
Tu ad déxteram Dei sedes, in glória Patris.
Judex créderis esse ventúrus.
Te ergo quǽsumus, tuis fámulis súbveni,
quos pretióso sánguine redemísti.
Ætérna fac cum sanctis tuis in glória numerári.
[added later, mainly from Psalm verses:]
Salvum fac pópulum tuum, Dómine, et bénedic hæreditáti tuæ.
Et rege eos, et extólle illos usque in ætérnum.
Per síngulos dies benedícimus te.
Et laudámus nomen tuum in sǽculum, et in sǽculum sǽculi.
Dignáre, Dómine, die isto sine peccáto nos custodíre.
Miserére nostri, Dómine, miserére nostri.
Fiat misericórdia tua, Dómine, super nos, quemádmodum sperávimus in te.
In te, Dómine, sperávi: non confúndar in ætérnum.
We praise thee, O God : we acknowledge thee to be the Lord.
All the earth doth worship thee : the Father everlasting.
To thee all Angels cry aloud : the Heavens, and all the Powers therein.
To thee Cherubim and Seraphim : continually do cry,
Holy, Holy, Holy : Lord God of Hosts;
Heaven and earth are full of the Majesty : of thy glory.
The glorious company of the Apostles : praise thee.
The goodly fellowship of the Prophets : praise thee.
The noble army of Martyrs : praise thee.
The holy Church throughout all the world : doth acknowledge thee;
The Father : of an infinite Majesty;
Thine honourable, true : and only Son;
Also the Holy Ghost : the Comforter.
Thou art the King of Glory : O Christ.
Thou art the everlasting Son : of the Father.
When thou tookest upon thee to deliver man : thou didst not abhor the Virgin's womb.
When thou hadst overcome the sharpness of death :
thou didst open the Kingdom of Heaven to all believers.
Thou sittest at the right hand of God : in the glory of the Father.
We believe that thou shalt come : to be our Judge.
We therefore pray thee, help thy servants :
whom thou hast redeemed with thy precious blood.
Make them to be numbered with thy Saints : in glory everlasting.
[added later, mainly from Psalm verses:]
O Lord, save thy people : and bless thine heritage.
Govern them : and lift them up for ever.
Day by day : we magnify thee;
And we worship thy Name : ever world without end.
Vouchsafe, O Lord : to keep us this day without sin.
O Lord, have mercy upon us : have mercy upon us.
O Lord, let thy mercy lighten upon us : as our trust is in thee.
O Lord, in thee have I trusted : let me never be confounded.
In the following from Prayer, Balthasar quotes a relatively obscure Cardinal Bona. Giovanni Bona(1609-1674) was anItalianCistercian,cardinal, liturgist and devotional author. One can only be amazed at Balthasar's depth and range of knowledge of the western canon and Church leaders through the ages. Cardinal Bona responds to the mystery confronted when one contemplates God's infinite mercy and at the same time his just judgement.
Balthasar does make it clear that there can be no uncertainty regarding our sinfulness and our deserving of the just judgement of God. We have no defense. "Yet at the same time, if my faith and love are alive and genuine, I simply cannot accept my personal condemnation from the mouth of God, for the Son, Love himself, has borne it on my behalf."
from pp. 300 – 301
There is a dialectic to be maintained in the contemplation
of hell. We see it in the Son's being forsaken by God and in his descent into
the darkness of Hades. In the Son who bears, not his own sins, but mine, I
glimpse the terrible severity of the fathers judgment -- for who but the Son really
knows what it means to be forsaken by the Father? It is my "journey into
hell" that I observed him undertake, a journey which, God knows, I have
deserved. I cannot dissociate myself from it in my contemplation. I cannot nurture
the secret sense of having saved my own skin because my Friend, my Beloved,
Eternal Love himself, has taken the rap in my place. That would be absolute lovelessness,
crass egoism, cold heart…. All the sinner can do, contemplating the judgment
pronounced upon his own sin, is simply to be there while his case is heard, to
be there just as he is, the sinner who wasn't there when he was needed, who betrayed the Lord like Judas and
denied him like Peter and fled like the others;… And so is bound to consent to
the Judge's sentence and the Victim's cry of abandonment: Yes, that is the truth, that is what I have
deserved.
The dialectic of this contemplation consists in this:
because he believes (that what is involved is the redemption of the world and
his own redemption), because he loves (and hence cannot dissociate himself from the Son), the believer must accept the Father's sentence of condemnation upon
the sinner (i.e., upon himself). The very faith and love which go to make this
contemplation also submit to the Father’s judgment. Naturally faith and love
you expect from the Father nothing but what is good; they themselves are graces
flowing from the completed redemption and resurrection. But their expectation
of everything that is good actually includes saying Yes to their own just
condemnation. God would be right to condemn them. He was right to forsake the
Son who was carrying my sin, who embodied my sin. And yet it is really faith
and love, and they alone, who conduct this contemplation; faced with redemption
from hell -- the process which alone proves that there is such a thing as faith,
as love -- they admit that we are worthy of damnation. Yet at the same time, if my
faith and love are alive and genuine, I simply cannot accept my personal
condemnation from the mouth of God, for the Son, Love himself, has borne it on
my behalf. What the holy Cardinal Bona made bold to say is a thoroughly
Christian affirmation, essential to the theology of faith and love:
"O Lord, in thee I have trusted: let me never be put to
shame. And if an angel from heaven were to assure me that I had been cast out
from thy sight, I would not believe him. Even if thou thyself, O God Most High,
wert to say that thou hadst damned me for all eternity, I would not listen
to thy words. Pardon me, O Lord, but I would not believe thee. For even if thou
slayest me and bringest me down to hell, I will still hope in thee for ever"
(Via compendia ad Deum, c.12, decas 9).
There is no other way of reflecting upon grave sin and its
penalty but this. Worldly reason will find the double truth unintelligible, but
for faith it is quite clear: there is no alternative. For where the vitality of
faith and love (which springs from the Lord's resurrection) breaks through, we
cannot be under the dominion of the fear of hell.
In the previous post Balthasar speaks of our participation in the cross of Christ, "Such participation, as the Lord wishes, can go to the extremes of powerlessness, spiritual darkness, forsakeness and rejection; since these things are sharing in the cross ..." He here indicates the Ignatian roots of his spirituality. He goes on in the following to further delve into St. Ignatius' exercises as we contemplate our own sin and the sin of the world.
from pp. 298-300
But there is a
dialectic in our contemplation of sin in the light of the cross: only by
looking at my Redeemer can I understand the extent of what I have done. In the
face of redeeming love I am pierced through by a nameless terror: I might be,
indeed I am a murderer of Eternal
Love; no excuses are of any avail; I deserve unconditional damnation. Beholding
the handiwork of ultimate love between Father, Son and Spirit, performed for
me, loveless as I am, I begin to understand that I do not belong among them,
that I do not have love and thus I'm deserving of eternal wrath. Indeed, I
merit destruction and banishment from the whole divine order:
"A shout of astonishment and profound love, as I think
how every created thing has not refused to keep me alive. The angels, the sword
of God's justice, have put up with me, protected me, prayed for me: the saints have
gone on praying and interceding on my behalf: the sky, the sun, the moon,
the stars, the natural elements, the fruits of the earth, birds, fish, the
whole animal kingdom…; Why is not the very earth opened to swallow me, creating
new hells for my eternal torment?" (Exercises,
60) [St. Ignatius]… does not neglect to put the contemplation of general and
personal sinfulness in the theological context of the redemption. Each
individual reflection leads up to the Colloquies with the merciful Lord "hanging
on the Cross before me", whose love shows me what I have (not) done for
Christ, what I am (not) doing for Christ, and what I shall (not) do for Christ.
And it is within this “kind of talk friends have with one another, or perhaps
like the way a servant speaks to his master" (Exercises, 54) that I become aware that I have thoroughly deserved hell.
Unless it acquires a profile by being contrasted with redeeming love, the
idea of hell will remain fantastic and imaginary, impossible for us to take
absolutely seriously in our prayer. But, once it has this firm outline, it is
what "stops the mouth" (Rom. 3:10) of the sinner who is always trying
to find some reason why God cannot really abandon a man.
