Imitating Jesus

(This post is the fruit of a brief Twitter conversation I had yesterday with Rev. Bosco Peters of liturgy.co.nz, who has blogged about it as well.)

Sometime around March of 2010, I spoke with a group of students at Princeton University's Aquinas Institute (their Catholic chaplaincy) about the Mass and the coming new translation of the Roman Missal.  My overall theme was about how our participation in the liturgy should direct our actions outside the liturgy.  I explained how during the Mass there are moments of reception:  during the Penitential Act, we receive God's mercy; during the liturgy of the Word, we receive God's Word; during the Rite of Peace, we receive God's peace; during the Communion Rite, we receive God's very Self in the Eucharist; and in the Concluding Rites, we receive God's blessing.  These five gifts (graces) — God's mercy, word, peace, self, and blessing — are just what we need to get on with the rest of our day (and week).  We receive these graces not for ourselves only, but also for others, for everyone we come in contact with, either in person or in prayer.

The Concluding Rites of the Mass present liturgically Christ's sending His disciples out into the world shortly before His Ascension.  We receive a blessing and are sent forth, uniting the Great Commission of Matthew 28:19-20 with the Great Blessing of Luke 24:50-51.  The link between the dismissal and the Great Commission may not be immediately evident, despite their etymological link: dismissal, commission, both from the Latin mittere (to send), missio (mission, sending).  But I expect that for most Christians, etymology is the last thing on their minds during their liturgical worship... especially at the very end of the liturgy!  So it falls to liturgical catechists (as I imagine myself to be) to point these things out.

So what does this have to do with "imitating Jesus", as I've titled this blog post?  Well, to make my point at this same meeting with Princeton students, I asked "Why are we dismissed from the Mass?"  That is, to what end are we sent forth from the church?  It's not so that we can get home in time to watch the football game.  It's not because we've worn out our welcome in God's house.  It's not because the Mass has been dragging on too long... although hearing "The Mass is ended" may elicit more genuine "Thanks be to God!"s than we think.  But no, we are dismissed from the liturgy for a particular reason, which the third edition of the Roman Missal attempts to make clear in its new formulae for dismissal.  As Pope Benedict pointed out in Sacramentum Caritatis, the dismissal of the liturgy is a missionary sending-forth.  But to what end?

The end is to imitate Jesus.  I came to this conclusion when I noticed a pattern of speech in the Gospel of John.  In the Gospels, Jesus often makes remarks about "as that..., so this..."  Examples from Matthew and Luke are the signs of Jonah (Mt 12:40; Lk 11:30), of lightning (Mt 24:27; Lk 17:24), and of Noah (Mt 24:37; Lk 17:26).  This pattern of speech is particularly pronounce in John's Gospel, where the comparisons are less about events than they are about persons.  On five occasions, Christ spoke about how, just as the Father does something, so too the Son does it:

• For as the Father raises the dead and gives them life,
  so also the Son gives life to whom he will. (Jn 5:21)
• For as the Father has life in himself,
  so he has granted the Son also to have life in himself. (Jn 5:26)
• As the Father has loved me,
  so have I loved you; abide in my love. (Jn 15:9)
• As thou didst send me into the world,
  so I have sent them into the world. (Jn 17:18)
• As the Father has sent me,
  even so I send you. (Jn 20:21)

This is simply the principle of John 5:19 put into action: "The Son can do nothing of his own accord, but only what he sees the Father doing; for whatever he does, that the Son does likewise."  As the Father gives life to the dead, so too does the Son; as the Father has life in Himself, so too does the Son; as the Father loves the Son, so too does the Son love us; and as the Father sends the Son, so too does the Son send... us.

That last one is the key:  Jesus sent His disciples into the world just as the Father sent Jesus into the world.  Jesus is not speaking simply of the similarity between two people who send others out; Jesus is saying that as the Father sent Him, so He sends His disciples.  The purpose, the reason, the mission (missio, sending) is the same; from paragraph 858 of the Catechism of the Catholic Church:

Jesus is the Father's Emissary. From the beginning of his ministry, he "called to him those whom he desired; . ... And he appointed twelve, whom also he named apostles, to be with him, and to be sent out to preach." From then on, they would also be his "emissaries" (Greek apostoloi). In them, Christ continues his own mission: "As the Father has sent me, even so I send you." The apostles' ministry is the continuation of his mission; Jesus said to the Twelve: "he who receives you receives me."

Our imitation of Christ requires knowledge of why the Father sent the Son.  John's Gospel is the Gospel of Siloam, "the sent" (Jn 9:7), and a whole Bible study could be centered upon the theology of "sending" in John's Gospel.  The first answer John's Gospel gives to the question of why the Father sent the Son is "that the world might be saved through him" (Jn 3:17), so that as the serpent in the desert was lifted up, so too the Son will be lifted up, to draw all to Himself. (Jn 3:14; 8:28; 12:32)  While we cannot claim to be Christ, the Savior of the world, we are anointed ("christed") to share in Christ's threefold mission as priest, prophet, and king, and so our mission is the same as His: if not to bring salvation to the world, then to bring the world to its salvation, to its Savior.

There is another set of verses in John's Gospel with the "as-so" pattern, but instead of "as the Father... so the Son," these verses are "as the Father (or: as I)... so you."

• As the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father,
  so he who eats me will live because of me. (Jn 6:57)
• Even as I have loved you,
  that you also love one another. (Jn 13:34)
• Even as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee,
  that they also may be in us, so that the world may believe that thou hast sent me. (Jn 17:21)

These verses teach us how to imitate Christ:

• as He lives because of the One Who sent Him,
  so we are to live by the One Who sends us;
• as the Father loves Him, and as He loves us,
  so we are to love one another;
• and as the Father and the Son are in each other,
  so we are to be in God (and God in us!).

This is why we are dismissed from the liturgy: to live by the One Who sends us, to love one another (even those not yet within the fold) as He loves us, and to participate in His divine life as He Himself lives it.  And this is all so that the world may believe that the Father sent His Son, and thus believe in the Son, who came for the salvation of the world.  And in this way, we are carrying out the same mission as Christ; in this way, we are sent that the world may be saved.

This is imitating Jesus.  This, not to take anything away from Thomas à Kempis, is imitation of Christ.

As... so...

For as Jonah was three days and three nights in the belly of the whale, so will the Son of man be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth. (Mt 12:40)

For as Jonah became a sign to the men of Nineveh, so will the Son of man be to this generation. (Lk 11:30)

Just as the weeds are gathered and burned with fire, so will it be at the close of the age. (Mt 13:40)

For as the lightning comes from the east and shines as far as the west, so will be the coming of the Son of man. (Mt 24:27)

For as the lightning flashes and lights up the sky from one side to the other, so will the Son of man be in his day. (Lk 17:24)

As were the days of Noah, so will be the coming of the Son of man. (Mt 24:37)

As it was in the days of Noah, so will it be in the days of the Son of man. (Lk 17:26)

And as you wish that men would do to you, do so to them. (Lk 6:31)

And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of man be lifted up. (Jn 3:14)

For as the Father raises the dead and gives them life, so also the Son gives life to whom he will. (Jn 5:21)

For as the Father has life in himself, so he has granted the Son also to have life in himself. (Jn 5:26)

As the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so he who eats me will live because of me. (Jn 6:57)

Little children, yet a little while I am with you. You will seek me; and as I said to the Jews so now I say to you, `Where I am going you cannot come.' (Jn 13:33)

A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another; even as I have loved you, that you also love one another. (Jn 13:34)

As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you; abide in my love. (Jn 15:9)

As thou didst send me into the world, so I have sent them into the world. (Jn 17:18)

Even as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be in us, so that the world may believe that thou hast sent me. (Jn 17:21)

Jesus said to them again, "Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, even so I send you." (Jn 20:21)

Where are all these enormous circles?

The following quote from a poem by Edwin Markham is often cited by persons or groups who perceive themselves to be marginalized or excluded from the Catholic Church for one reason or another:

He drew a circle that shut me out —
Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.
But Love and I had the wit to win:
We drew a circle that took him in.

I do not wish to question the perceptions of these persons or groups; the marginalization or exclusion they feel may indeed be very real.  What I wonder about, though, is whether, in quoting this part of Markham's poem, they actually intend to "draw a circle" that takes in the very person or group they feel is excluding them.

Perfectae Caritatis - Vatican II on consecrated religious life

(The material below comes from a post originally written three years ago.  I'm posting this again now, in April 2012, because of the news surrounding the LCWR in the United States.)

Perfectae Caritatis (the decree on the renewal of religious life), among others from Vatican II, could really have benefited from headings. It's not much to ask for. I mean, I finally caught on that the first couple words of a "paragraph" (really, a group of paragraphs with a single number) indicated the content matter for that numbered paragraph, but the organization of the document didn't jump out at me at first. For those of you reading along at home (and you are reading the documents of Vatican II, aren't you?), here's the breakdown of Perfectae Caritatis:

1. Introduction (1)
2. Principles of Renewal (2-6)
   2. Five General Principles of Renewal
   3. Call to Renewal
   4. Authority in Carrying Out the Renewal
   5. Dedication to Evangelical Counsels and Contemplation
   6. Sources of Renewal
3. Types of Religious Life (7-11)
   7. Contemplative
   8. Apostolates (Active Communities)
   9. Monastic
   10. Lay Religious
   11. Secular
4. Evangelical Counsels (12-14)
   12. Chastity
   13. Poverty
   14. Obedience
5. Religious Lifestyle (15-18)
   15. Communal Living
   16. Papal Cloister
   17. Habits
   18. Education and Formation
6. Lifecycle, Work, and Governance (19-24)
   19. Founding New Communities
   20. Community Identity (Ministry and Mission)
   21. Discontinuing a Community
   22. Combining Similar Communities
   23. Conferences or Councils of Major Superiors
   24. Fostering Vocations
7. Conclusion (25)

I hope that's helpful for you, for when you read the documents of Vatican II.

Catholic Piazza

This morning I received an email from a woman in the UK named Margaret who invited me to participate on a Catholic forum she started up recently: http://catholicpiazza.forumup.co.uk/

I've registered and, after the Easter weekend, I'll endeavor to participate there.  I tend to be more active on forums than blogs, for whatever reason.

The Improperia

The Improperia (or "Reproaches") are a series of antiphons and responses which are part of the Good Friday liturgy in the Roman Rite (although you may not have ever heard them).  They are presented as Christ crying out to His people (contextually, the Israelites) for the injustices they showed their God after all the wonders God had performed for them.

Here is my own (somewhat loose) English translation of the Latin (and Greek) text:

O my people, what have I done to you?
How have I offended you?  Answer me!

For I brought you out of the land of Egypt,
but you brought out* a cross for your Savior.

Holy is God!  Holy and mighty!  Holy and immortal!
Have mercy upon us!

For I led you through the desert for forty years,
and fed you with manna,
and brought you into a land of plenty,
but you prepared* a cross for your Savior.

Holy is God!  Holy and mighty!  Holy and immortal!
Have mercy upon us!

What more should I have done for you, that I did not do?
Indeed, I planted you, my precious chosen vine,
but you have become terribly bitter to me.
Indeed, you gave me vinegar to drink in my thirst,
and have pierced your Savior's side with a lance.

Holy is God!  Holy and mighty!  Holy and immortal!
Have mercy upon us!

I scourged the first-born of Egypt for your sake:
yet you scourged me and handed me over.

O my people, what have I done to you?
How have I offended you?  Answer me!

I plunged Pharaoh into the Red Sea and plucked you out of Egypt's hand:
yet you handed me over to the high priests.

O my people...

I parted the sea before you:
yet you parted my side with a lance.

O my people...

I led you as a pillar of cloud:
yet you led me into Pilate's palace.

O my people...

I rained down manna for you in the desert:
yet you rained down blows and lashes on me.

O my people...

I gave you saving water from the rock to drink:
yet for drink you gave me gall and vinegar.

O my people...

I struck down for you the kings of the Canaanites:
yet you struck the head of your King with a reed.

O my people...

In your hands I placed a royal scepter:
yet upon my head you placed a crown of thorns.

O my people...

I raised you up in great power:
yet you raised me up on a cross.

O my people...

* The Latin is the same for these two lines ("but you ... your Savior"), but I have chosen to render them differently.

Books: The Sayings of the Desert Fathers

This Lent, I decided to read The Sayings of the Desert Fathers, edited by Benedicta Ward, SLG.  I bought this book last May at the International Congress on Medieval Studies at Western Michigan University in Kalamazoo.  My wife is currently pursuing her doctorate in history (and I think she's gaining on it), and her specific area of interest is medieval England.  For the past few years (three? four?) we have been attending the ICMS at Kalamazoo, and this past year we both presented papers: hers was on the Book of Hours belonging to Sir William Porter and what it reveals about him ("Affinity, Nationalism, and Religious Devotion"), and mine was on an eschatological perspective on JRR Tolkien's use of geography in his Middle Earth literature.  Sadly, we are not attending this year, as we have too many things on our plates, and too many plates in the air.

WMU is home to an Institute of Cistercian Studies, and there is a good showing of Cistercians at the ICMS each year.  One of the book vendors is Cistercian Publications.  It was at their booth last May that I found The Sayings of the Desert Fathers.  I don't tend to buy too many books at the ICMS because most of them are, to be honest, over my head and out of my realm of interest.  I do get a few each year, though.  Last year I also bought a commentary on Second Corinthians (by CCSS) and a book about the medieval literature behind the writing of JRR Tolkien, The Keys of Middle-Earth.

These books are in good company in my man-cave in the unfinished basement of our house.  A man-cave I have not spent much time in lately, because it's been winter, and because we sometimes get floods down there, and because my part of the basement is a federal disaster relief site.  It's a real mess.  Now that the temperature is warming up, I might be able to straighten it up a bit.  A lot.

But about my books.  I have a lot of books down there, but many of them are unread or barely started.  I've decided to create a virtual bookshelf program (using Google Books' API) so that my wife and I can keep track of the books we own, categorize them, log a history of which ones we're reading, how far we are, and when we've finished them.  With a simple program in place (and enhancements to come in time), I've resolved to enter the books I own into the system, read them, and make notes about them.

So that brings us to The Sayings of the Desert Fathers.  This 250 page alphabetical collection of sayings (not necessarily "wisdom" sayings, but sayings) from the eremitical men and women of the Egypt from the third through fifth centuries is the sort of book I like.  It introduces me to the writings and thoughts of people and potentially whets my appetite for more.  Case in point, my wife has suggested I read Athanasius' Life of St. Anthony, who has some 38 sayings in this book, four of which I marked as particularly meaningful to me.  The book is dog-eared and pencil-marked now: I put asterisks next to scriptural citations (for entry into a database later), and I turn down the corner of a page on which I find a saying that resonates with me, and draw a line down the margin next to it.

I imagine there are about two thousand sayings in this book, and they range from the utterly practical to the astonishingly absurd.  Some are amusing anecdotes about the trials of living as a well-known and sought-after hermit; a couple of these end up sounding like a fourth-century rendition of "Get off my lawn!"  Others are mind-blowing accounts of the severe ascetism of these secluded monks: eating only once every other day, fighting off sleep, not speaking a word unless it would be a sin not to do so (hospitality to one's neighbor — a funny concept among people living mostly solitary lives — was very big among the Desert Fathers and Mothers), and refusing to accept gifts or retain possessions.

Some are quite fantastic, like the story of Abba Sisoes of Calamon who, to avoid sleep, hung himself over a precipice.  It is related that "an angel came to take him down and ordered him not to do that again and not to transmit such teaching to others." (p. 219)  Others are quite mundane, like the story of Abba Macarius who had nothing in his cell but some stagnant water.  Two brothers noticed this and invited him to accompany them to a village where they would get clean water for him.  Abba Macarius asked if they knew the man who owned the bakery in the village; they did.  He asked if they knew of the field which lay adjacent to the river; they did.  Then he said to them, "I know it too.  So when I want to, I can go there myself, without your help."

A simple "No thanks" would have sufficed!

There are many real gems among these sayings as well.  Love of neighbor as love of Christ comes up often.  The radical nature of life for Christ alone, to the exclusion of virtually every worldly comfort, is a constant theme.  And then there are frequent reminders that we should be concerned for, and weep for, our own sins, rather than judge another person.  I was surprised at the sort of laissez-faire attitude towards sin that several of these sayings contain, along the lines of "If you see a brother sinning, say nothing to him."  A brother is being judged by the other brethren, and the abba shows up and asks to be judged too; or the abba appears carrying a large sack of sand on his back and holding a small satchel of sand in front of him: "In this sack with contains much sand, are my sins which are many; I have put them behind me so as not to be troubled about them and so as not to weep; and see here are the little sins of my brother which are in front of me and I spend my time judging them." (Abba Pior, p. 199)

I found one saying near the end of the book that aligns with the popular saying, "hate the sin, love the sinner."  Amma Syncletica says, "Hate sickness but not the sick person." (p. 233)  There were also striking encounters with sinners (often harlots) wherein the abba converts the sinner by sorrow for his or her life of sin and concern for his or her immortal soul.

There is practical wisdom to be found as well.  Abba Silvanus said, "Unhappy is the man whose reputation is greater than his work." (p. 224)  Abba Pambo lamented that a courtesan had greater desire to please wicked men than he had to please God. (p. 196)  Abba Poemen states matter-of-factly that "where there are enemies, I become a solider." (p. 194)

A few sayings remind me of the encounter between Jean Valjean and the bishop in Les misérables.  Valjean is shown hospitality by the bishop but in return steals some silverware and runs off in the night.  When Valjean is apprehended by lawmen and returned to the bishop, the bishop insists that the silver was a gift.  Not having read the book, but having seen the musical (does that count?), the event is told in this way:

Constables: Tell his reverence your story, let us see if he's impressed.
You were lodging here last night; you were the honest bishop's guest.
And then out of Christian goodness, when he learned about your plight,
You maintain he made a present of this silver.

Bishop:                                                               That is right.
But my friend you left so early, surely something slipped your mind.
You forgot I gave these also.  Would you leave the best behind?
So messieurs, you may release, for this man has spoken true.
I commend you for your duty: may God's blessing go with you.

And remember this, my brother: see in this some higher plan.
You must use this precious silver to become an honest man.
By the witness of the martyrs, by the Passion and the Blood,
God has raised you out of darkness.  I have bought your soul for God.

This is the sort of reaction some of the abbas have toward a brother who is sinning.  One brother is suspected of having given into the temptation of fornication, and the other brothers decide to search his cell for the woman.  The local abba, Ammonas, knowing what has happened, enters the cell first and sits upon a barrel; he knows the brother has hid the woman inside.  He lets the other brothers in to search the cell, but they do not find the woman.  When they leave, Abba Ammonas takes the brother by the hand and says, "Brother, be on your guard." (p. 28)  Other stories relate how an abba, upon seeing his cell being raided by thieves, would not cry out in alarm, but assist the thieves in stowing what little possessions he had on their camel.

Clearly this way of life is not for everyone.  The extreme asceticism and the "look the other way" mentality do not apply to every situation of life.  Still, there is a great deal to be learned from these wise (and probably thin) men and women of the desert.  They emphasize the need to cast off vices and grow in virtue, preferably in all the virtues a little, rather than in one particular virtue a lot.  They praise obedience and humility.

I give Abba Silvanus the last remark.  Abba Moses asked him, "Can a man lay a new foundation every day?" Abba Silvanus replied, "If he works hard, he can lay a new foundation at every moment." (p. 224)

Filling the void with books!

I'm finding it difficult to blog regularly lately.  It's probably because I read a lot of blogs and comment on a few of them fairly often, and I tweet, and I'm writing a book on the Eucharistic Prayers... oh yeah, and I have a wife and a job and a dog and teach Confirmation students.

So the blog has suffered a lot because of that.  Just look at the past few months:

• February - 1 post
• January - 1 post
• December - 4 posts
• November - 4 posts
• October - 4 posts

I only posted 54 times in 2011, less than half of 2010's output, which was less than a third of 2009's output!  True, some of my posts have been short and a bit mundane, but I just don't write here much anymore.  I've got tons of "series" of blog posts which are stagnant, and a lot which never really ever got started.  I've also got two other blogs (related to the new liturgical translation) which haven't had much going on lately.

So, facing the decision of 1) not changing my blogging habits, 2) increasing my blogging, or 3) stopping blogging here altogether, I'm going to try #2.  I'm going to blog about the books I'm reading, because if there's one thing I have a lot of, it's unread books on Christianity!  I wouldn't call these book reviews, per se, although I'll tag them as such for good measure.

My first installment will be on The Sayings of the Desert Fathers translated by Benedicta Ward, SLG.