Theological Sketchbook

The Poetic Priesthood

2008-03-17T04:51:00.001-07:00

In much of Gerard Manley Hopkins' poetry, "a terror lest natural beauty fade unharvested is the dominant note…With such statling clearness did he realize that only through man's mind is Nature made transitorily beautiful – 'quench this clearest-selved spark' and 'both are in an unfathomable dark drowned' – yet only in Christ by man's free will can both be made beautiful for ever." (Christopher Devlin, S.J.)

Hopkins saw and enacted the patristic notion that human beings are the priests of creation – our divine vocation is to turn creation toward God in a cosmic liturgy. Beauty sings to us, and we must redirect these songs of praise to God. In this sense, Hopkins' oeuvre is a eucharistic hymnal, and he shows us poetry as a quintessentially Christian act that is essential to the Church's mission in the world.

Apocalyptic Time

2008-03-13T06:32:00.001-07:00

The book of Revelation is frequently misread, notes Raymond Brown (Introduction to the New Testament), as providing a coded history of the future. Such misreadings see the order of events in that final biblical book as – more (in some 'prophets') or less (as in Left Behind) symbolically – predicting the temporal order of events at the end times.

Brown provides a more detailed refutation of this point of view, but it is enough to note that the time line of at least one central character of the book – Jesus Christ – runs clearly against the historical order of his life. He is seen, already crucified, around the throne of God (5:6) a full seven chapters before he is born (12:5)!

This discrepancy alone should be enough to alert us to the fact that time and history, although central to John's Apocalypse, are not simply being mapped out in advance. God is breaking into history in such a way that history is radically called into question; the seer of Patmos forces on us an "awareness of the catastrophic nature of time itself, the element of discontinuity in it, of the termination and end of time" (Metz).

Every moment of history finds itself on the field of Armageddon, between two armies arrayed for battle. One must choose now: flock either to the banner of the Lamb who was slain or to the dragon who has been healed (13:3).

Confessing Sin and Praising God

2008-03-12T08:05:00.001-07:00

"The Church does not profess its belief in sin, but in the forgiveness of sin – so much so that none discover themselves to be sinners unless they discover themselves to be pardoned sinners. The grace of forgiveness always offered is what reveals sin, just as the prodigal son discovered the true dimension of his sin in the arms of his father… The final authority for judging sin is not our consciences, as necessary as these may be – 'I am not aware of anything against myself, but I am not thereby acquitted' (1 Cor 4:4) – but the word of grace and mercy offered in Jesus. Sin is finally revealed only as taken away. Thus the 'examination of conscience' becomes a confession of praise at the same time it is a confession of sin to God."

(Louis-Marie Chauvet, Symbol and Sacrament, p. 433)

Aphorism

2008-02-26T16:53:00.001-08:00

An unnoticed type of the Church in the New Testament: the nails pinning Christ to the cross – we are only taken into Christ's body at the cost of the suffering which our cold non-love inflicts on him.

The Inequality of Heavenly Reward

2008-02-26T05:18:00.001-08:00

Near the end of the City of God, St. Augustine finds himself tangled in a paradox about the joys of heaven: the unending and unsurpassable vision of God will be common to all the blessed, and yet "it cannot be doubted that there shall be degrees" of honor and glory (XXII.30). If all enjoy the singular joy of the beatific vision, how could there possibly be degrees of reward in heaven?

Augustine's discussion of the martyrs opens the possibility for an answer. In the resurrection, the martyr's wound "will not be a deformity, but a mark of honour, and will add luster to their appearance, and a spiritual, if not bodily beauty…we are not to reckon or name these marks of virtue blemishes" (XXII.19). In the resurrection, the glory of God which shines from these wounds will be seen in all its clarity, and the martyrs will be honored to show that beatific glory forth from their own physical bodies. All will see equally the same vision of God, but not all will be equally resplendent.

Our resurrected bodies will display the glory which our loving exercise of freedom has won for God. The body bears the marks of love and love's suffering: worries and joys leave wrinkles in their wake, the back is bent from years of toil to support a family, the trauma of childbirth physically alters a mother, unuse leaves flesh virginal, hatred patiently endured stripes the skin, and so much more. From the mundane to the martyr, the body collects marks of virtue as cherished tokens of the love of the loving God. The different degrees of that love will be gloriously revealed in the resurrection, in which we will all see the glory of God pouring forth from the holes in the hands, feet, and side of Christ – who will "be the end of our desires…seen without end, loved without cloy, praised without weariness" (XXII.30).

Thoughts on Hell

2008-02-18T08:59:00.001-08:00

Last week I led a colloquium on hell for the other Master's students. The two most helpful comments came from the Australian Lutheran pastor who is my classmate.

He noted that the degree of comfort we have with the sensible punishments of hell seem to parallel the ways in which we structure our own temporal penal systems. Calvin and Luther could relish in the idea of eternal torment the same way that they delighted in watching witches burn. We squirm at the idea in the same way that we protest against the cruel and unusual punishments of criminals. The point is not, of course, to argue from historical contingency into a relativism equally happy with both forms of civil retribution – I am happy to declare our form absolutely better than the form in Calvin's Geneva. The point is that our ability to conceive of eternal eschatological punishment is perhaps too connected with our sense of temporal justice – both in the case of the Reformers and in our own – and too little determined by revelation.
Our Aussie also noted that, for himself, he has a far easier time imagining himself than imagining anyone else in hell. I can experience within myself the freedom which I know capable of rejecting God. I know how often I have courted perdition. But so far am I from being able to experience anyone else's freedom from the inside that I can more easily find external reasons and explanations for the sins of others. There is an echo here of all the saints who have declared themselves to be the greatest sinners – and of Balthasar's hope for everyone else before one's self.

The Phenomenon of God

2008-02-10T11:17:00.001-08:00

Kenan Osborne argues, in Heideggerian terms, that the human Jesus is an 'appearance' of God. For Heidegger, 'appearance' is contrasted to 'phenomenon.' Now, in an appearance, some thing, y, shows itself as an indication of some other thing, x, which does not and cannot show itself. This would be something like the observable symptoms of a hypothetical disease which could never itself be observed. In the appearance, the invisible x shows itself in the visible y. In the phenomenon, on the other hand, x shows itself in itself – it makes itself manifest and visible, without the use of some other mediating thing. Of course, a thing does not manifest all aspects of itself all at once: for instance, you can never see all six sides of a cube. The phenomenon includes aspects both manifest and hidden.

In order to maintain the integrity of divinization and revelation, Jesus must be considered a phenomenon rather than an appearance. If Jesus is merely the appearance of a God who he is not, then the Word has not become flesh radically enough to save. In that wonderful exchange extolled by the Fathers, God has become human in order that humanity may become divine. If we are to partake in God's nature, then God must first become human in such a way that we be able to say that Jesus is God. Moreover, if Jesus cannot said to be God, then the revelatory power of the life of Christ has, at best, only a quantitative superiority over other revelation. Only the unity of the is can secure the qualitative difference required for Christ to be the definitive word about God. But this means that Jesus cannot be a mere appearance in which God is made manifest. Jesus is the event of God's self-manifestation in God's self – the divine self to which the humanity is now joined – and is therefore not the appearance but the phenomenon of God.

The Knowledge of the Damned

2008-01-11T01:10:00.001-08:00

At the end of Dare We Hope "That All Men Be Saved"? von Balthasar reviews some of the most notable theologies of apokatastasis – the universal restoration of creation to its Creator. He quotes Maximus the Confessor in a lengthy footnote:

"The third meaning [of apokatastasis] is used by Gregory especially in reference to the qualities of the soul that had been corrupted by sin and then are restored to their original state. Just as all nature will regain, at the expected time, its completeness in the flesh [at the resurrection], so also will the powers of the soul, by necessity, shed all imprints of evil clinging to them; and this after aeons have elapsed, after a long time of being driven about without rest [stasis]. And so in the end they reach God, who is without limitations [peras]. Thus they are restored to their original state [apokatastenai] through their knowledge [of God], but do not participate in [his] gifts. It also will appear that the Creator cannot be blamed for any sinfulness."

Without knowing the original context for Maximus's assertion, I would like to suggest a biblical context of which his theory helps to make sense. Phillippians 2:10-11 (RSV) tells us that "at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father." If one may read the "should" here as "will" – that is, as describing the ultimate and final consequences of God's exaltation of Christ (2:9) – the end of this hymn leaves us with an interesting picture of hell. In the end, all of creation will "confess that Jesus Christ is Lord" and bend the knee before him, even those who are "under the earth."

Whatever the rebellion of the damned consists in, they are here seen to acknowledge the Lordship of Christ at least intellectually. If Maximus is right, this acknowledgement is rooted in the restored knowledge of God ultimately returned to everyone. That such a restoration of knowledge is simultaneously a "restor[ation] to their original state" means that even in damnation there is something of divine blessing. This gratuitous blessing may explain the worshipful posture of the kneeling reprobate.

Mary, Mediatrix of All Graces

2007-12-10T07:11:00.001-08:00

Brian has recently insisted that "all Mariology must resolve into Christology." I agree, but my ecclesial commitments demand from me a substantial degree of fundamental trust that seemingly mariolotrous titles – Queen of Heaven, Coredepmtrix, Mediatrix of All Graces, Dispensatrix of Heavenly Graces, etc. – actually are Christological inferences, even if I do not understand them.

Let me guarantee you: I do not understand them. But I would like to try.

The Mother of God is said to be the mediatrix of all graces in two senses: the subjective and the objective. Subjectively, she is seen to mediate the actual appropriation of grace by individuals, the totality of whom have already been objectively saved by the work of the Incarnate God, to whose presence Mary consented. The subjective dimension does not yet make sense to me, so I will have to leave it for another day.

The objective dimension, though, is merely good Christology and soteriology. "Dead in our transgressions," we are only raised to life "with Christ" (Eph. 2:5). Our spiritual life is dependent on the work of Christ: God would not be present to us without the work of the absolutely unique and unparalleled mediation of the Incarnate Word (1 Tim. 2:5). That is to say, we would not have God's grace without the Incarnation. The stress here is on the humanity of Christ, for if the Son of God had remained God alone, eschewing our humanity, we would be ungraced and unsaved. We would be ungraced and unsaved were it not for the human flesh of Jesus Christ. That flesh grounds and is the presence of God for us. Insofar as all grace is merely (merely!) the presence of God, the flesh of Christ grounds and is all grace we receive.

Mary's role here becomes more obvious. Christ would have had no flesh had it not been knit for him in that Virgin's womb. In the most concrete sense, then, all grace comes through Mary: the grace-flesh of Christ comes to us only through Mary's virginal cervix. Mary's physical body mediates to us the grace which saves the whole world. Furthermore, God's offer to Mary depends on her obedient fiat. In her obedience, therefore, Mary has won for humanity that fruit whose loss is mediated to us through the disobedience of Eve. I would not at all be able to say "yes" to the redemptive mystery of Christ were it not for Mary's own prior "yes." None of us would. The possibility of all obedience comes only through the obedience of this handmaid of the Lord. Mary mediates all grace to us both physically and spiritually only because she is the Mother of God. Mary's mediation of all grace is, therefore, the reverse side of a Christological fact: we are graced only by the Word become flesh.

Hail Mary, Mother of God, Mediatrix of All Graces!

Jesus Came to Die

2007-11-28T03:19:00.000-08:00

When I worked at Casa Juan Diego, we had "team meetings" with all of the staff from both the youth center and its parent church, St. Pius V, every Wednesday. These meetings were dedicated to personal development issues, such as communication, self-assertiveness, social action, and religion. I would cringe inwardly whenever a religious topic came up. The presenter (it varied from week to week) would regularly say things like denying that transubstantiation had ever been defined, that the penitential rite at the beginning of Mass was a sacramental confession, or offer some near-Marxist view of "the People of God." It is to my great discredit that I never felt comfortable enough to really offer much of a challenge to these views when they came up, but I didn't - even though most of these people had become my friends and were all kind people.
One particular statement has left me replaying the scene in my mind, searching for something to say. I have been replaying this scene for two years now. We were talking about who knows what when someone said that Jesus did not come to die for our sins. Stunned silence came over the group, and one woman raised her hand to disagree, but her protests were met with some answer that quieted her down. (I'm not sure of the details because it was in rapid Spanish.)
Yesterday I found a response.
We were looking at the beginning of John in a conversation about spirituality in Liberation Theology, when I noticed 1:25. There, in the very first chapter, John the Baptist recognizes Jesus:

The next day he saw Jesus coming toward him and said, "Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.

This is a clear sacrificial reference. Exodus 12 details the use of the Passover lamb's blood for keeping death at bay, and Isaiah 63 describes the servant of God who, "like a lamb led to the slaughter" (7) constitutes an "offering for sin" (10).
This clear sacrificial reference at the beginning of John reminded me of the beginning of Mark. Eleven lines into that Gospel, at the baptism by John, we are given a reliable statement about Jesus' identity:

And a voice came from the heavens, "You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased."

This verse is a reference to psalm 2:7:

I will proclaim the decree of the LORD, who said to me, "You are my son; today I am your father.

It describes the Davidic king in Jerusalem divinely set against the marauding nations. Mark lets us know that this is good news for those "nations" by combining this psalm with Isaiah 42:1:

Here is my servant whom I uphold, my chosen one with whom I am pleased, Upon whom I have put my spirit; he shall bring forth justice to the nations

The Davidic messiah is the servant of the Lord, come to "establish justice on the earth" (42:4). So far, so good. But Mark's voice from heaven weaves in one more allusion: "You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased." Mark is clearly referencing the "beloved son" whom Abraham was called to sacrifice (Gen 22:2, 12, and 17). This Davidic king has come to establish justice on earth - through his own death. Mark tells us this from this very first and most reliable identity statement about Jesus.
Both Mark and John, then begin with statements about Jesus' death. What about the other Gospels? Luke doesn't seem to have any comparable "thesis statement" at the head of his Gospel, but Matthew does.

The book of the genealogy of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham. (Matt 1:1)

"Son of David" is a standard messianic reference, but what about "son of Abraham?" The note on the verse in the USCCB hypertext Bible says that this reference to Abraham reflects Matthew's interest in the "universal scope" of Jesus' mission. Yes, but we all know how well that turned out for the first "son of Abraham." In case the point is too obscure, the second verse clarifies: Abraham became the father of Isaac Why does Matthew begin his genealogy with Abraham and Isaac? Luke gets across the point of universality by tracing Jesus back to Adam (Luke 3:38). Matthew's choice of the most famous father-son sacrificial pair is probably not insignificant. Especially not in the light of 1:21:

She will bear a son and you are to name him Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins."

Another heavenly messenger (i.e., reliable source) identifies Jesus with a salvation which later we learn is effected by the shedding of Christ's blood (26:28). These references in the first chapter point to Christ's ultimate fate on the cross.
So Matthew, Mark, and John all clearly explain Jesus' identity and mission in terms of his death. The crucifixion is not just some accidental feature of an otherwise life-giving proclamation of peace and justice. The crucifixion is somehow at the heart of the good news of Jesus. My co-worker was wrong: Jesus did indeed come to die for our sins. He certainly came to do more, but he did no less that that.

Natural Law Difficulties

2007-10-08T11:27:00.000-07:00

I have difficulties with the theory of natural law, and this puts me at odds with my Church’s official teachings. In an effort to make the “religious submission of mind and will” that Vatican II commands (Lumen Gentium 25), I am writing my understanding of the natural law for others to critique. My assumption regarding the religious submission of “mind and will” is that my will must direct my mind to be convinced of the intellectual compulsion of the rationality of the Church’s teaching, if possible. I leave open room for not being convinced of the Church’s teaching with respect to a non-definitive doctrine while nonetheless submitting my will. In this respect, some aspects which I will discuss below are more pressing for me, as they have been dogmatically defined by Vatican I. I begin with these considerations on authority to give an indication of the kind of aid I seek – the aid of argument, not assertion. (I am, however, also open to arguments that I have misunderstood the nature of religious submission or of authority, as well.)

It will be helpful if I outline my understanding of natural law first. Natural law takes a basically Aristotelian approach to morality: human beings, like all things, have a proper function and their purpose is to fulfill that function. For humans, the habits which fulfill this function are virtues, the habits which do not are vices. Happiness consists in the life of virtue. Basically, you should be virtuous because it will make you happy. But Christian natural law goes beyond Aristotle, making for a stronger obligation in the moral “should.” Created by God to be the kinds of things they are, human beings have an obligation to live according to their function insofar as they have an obligation to obey God. We might list these components in this way:

(1) God exists.
(2) God has created human beings to have a specific function.
(3) God desires for human beings to live according to this function.
(4) Human beings owe obedience to God.
(5) Human beings can identify the details of their specific function.

In order for natural law to serve as the basis for public conversation and argument in the way the Church says it should, we must add that the factuality of each of these components can be determined by reason unaided by revelation. If natural reason can determine only that the Prime Mover exists, for example, it can discern (1), but not (2), (3), or (4). Without (3) or (4), natural law can at best be a suggestion for good living: live this way and you’ll be happy according to God’s will. If natural law is to be a conceptual tool which unearths moral and civic obligations, we must have all 5 components accessible to natural reason.

My problem is that, as far as I can tell, only (5) seems to be available to natural reason. As a Christian, I of course believe in (1) – (4), but I believe it on the basis of God’s self-revelation in Christ. I am actually willing to go a bit further and say that revelation (and its authentic interpretation by the Church) tells me that (1) is in principle open to reason (Romans 1 hints at something like the cosmological argument and Vatican I’s first canon on revelation appears to have defined the same basic principle). My difficulty is that no argument of which I am aware seems convincing on any of these points. It may well be that I either do not understand these arguments or am missing their logical flow. I may even be misunderstanding the structure of natural law in the first place. In either case, I thought that perhaps some people smarter than me could help clear things up, in order that I might better live out my religious submission of intellect and will.