Mary and the goal of Christianity

On a Pints with Aquinas interview, the guest responded to the question “Do Catholics worship Mary?” this way, and I thought it was wonderful:

The [real] problem is that [those who say this] don’t understand Christianity. Why did Christ come? Yes, he did come so that I can go to heaven. But to be honest with you, that’s very shallow. Jesus came to make me like God. The Fathers say that God became a man so that man could become like God. The essence of Christianity is that you become like Christ…. That is Christianity. Holiness, deification, theosis. So, when you understand that the goal is union with Christ, then and only then do you understand Mary. For me to love Mary is for me to become like Christ. For me to hate sin is for me is to become like Christ. So, if you have a problem with Mary, your problem is really about Christ’s goal for Christianity, because for me to say “Mary, you’re my mother,” is simply to be a member of the body of Christ.

It has been astounding for me to think that, in being brought into the family of God by Jesus, he shares with me not only his Father, but also his mother. More and more, I feel in need of her compassionate intercession. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death.

“Touch me not” and the other untouchable thing

I’ve wondered this Easter why Jesus says to Mary not to touch him, when he later tells Thomas to touch him.

I said to myself, obviously this was not an Ark of the Covenant situation, because Thomas is allowed to touch him later. So his resurrected body can’t be holy in this untouchable way.

However, maybe it is, in a way. If we believe that Thomas was also a recipient of Jesus’s breath, either because when Jesus appeared to them again he breathed on Thomas too, or because by virtue of his membership in the Twelve he benefitted from it the first time even in his absence, then Thomas was ordained, like the rest of the Twelve, as a priest.

And who was allowed to touch the Ark? Only the priests.

So perhaps, like the Ark, Jesus’s resurrected body had about it a holiness that only allowed those protected by anointing to touch it.

The Lord’s Prayer as chiasmus

Numerous texts in the Bible exhibit the rhetorical device known as “chiasmus,” based on the letter X, where the passage is a mirror image of itself turning on the middle phrase, with corresponding phrases at the beginning and end having some similarity or connection. The classic example is the opening of the Gospel of John.

What if we read the Lord’s Prayer that way? It would produce an interesting effect. Using each phrase, or “line” as it is typically divided, the pairings would go as follows, beginning with the first and last, and ending with the culminating center:

Our Father who art it heaven, deliver us from evil

Hallowed be thy name; lead us not into temptation

Thy kingdom come, as we forgive those who trespass against us

Thy will be done, and forgive us our trespasses

On earth as it is in heaven, give us this day our daily bread

This reading unites in the center of the chiasmus the two most eucharistic and incarnational lines, to reveal the reality of the Real Presence of Christ as heaven on earth (here’s to you Scott Hahn), and the central object of Christian prayer and faith. It also, interestingly, pairs the Fatherhood of God with that ultimate, fearful deliverance from evil, it pairs his holy name with our preservation from temptation, the coming of his kingdom with our forgiveness of those who wrong us, and the working out of God’s will in the earth as the forgiving of our trespasses.

May the Lord hear our prayer, and give us his Son, that we might become people in whom heaven and earth are brought together in sacred mystery.

Irenaeus and Tertullian on apostolic succession

It recently came up in discussion with a friend “whether church leaders can be valid if they are not in apostolic succession.” I offer these two Church Fathers in support of the idea that both doctrinal unity and apostolic succession are necessary for the validity and trustworthiness of a church leader. (But I observe that, if the Church teaches the importance of apostolic succession, then it is impossible to be in doctrinal unity with the Church and deny it.)

Irenaeus
Against Heresies [A.D. 189]

“[I]t is incumbent to obey the presbyters who are in the Church—those who, as I have shown, possess the succession from the apostles; those who, together with the succession of the episcopate, have received the certain gift of truth according to the good pleasure of the Father. But [it is also incumbent] to hold in suspicion others who depart from the primitive succession, and assemble themselves together in any place whatsoever, either as heretics of perverse minds, or as schismatics puffed up and self-pleasing, or again as hypocrites, acting thus for the sake of lucre and vainglory. For all these have fallen from the truth” (4:26:2).

“The true knowledge is the doctrine of the apostles, and the ancient organization of the Church throughout the whole world, and the manifestation of the body of Christ according to the succession of bishops, by which succession the bishops have handed down the Church which is found everywhere” (4:33:8).

Also, a bonus identifying the Church in Rome as primary:

“we shall confound all those who, in whatever manner, whether through self-satisfaction or vainglory, or through blindness and wicked opinion, assemble other than where it is proper, by pointing out here the successions of the bishops of the greatest and most ancient church known to all, founded and organized at Rome by the two most glorious apostles, Peter and Paul—that church which has the tradition and the faith with which comes down to us after having been announced to men by the apostles. For with this Church, because of its superior origin, all churches must agree, that is, all the faithful in the whole world. And it is in her that the faithful everywhere have maintained the apostolic tradition” (3:3:2).

Tertullian
Demurrer Against the Heretics [A.D. 200]

“[W]hat it was which Christ revealed to them [the apostles] can, as I must here likewise prescribe, properly be proved in no other way than by those very churches which the apostles founded in person, by declaring the gospel to them directly themselves . . . If then these things are so, it is in the same degree manifest that all doctrine which agrees with the apostolic churches—those molds and original sources of the faith must be reckoned for truth, as undoubtedly containing that which the churches received from the apostles, the apostles from Christ, [and] Christ from God. Whereas all doctrine must be prejudged as false which savors of contrariety to the truth of the churches and apostles of Christ and God. It remains, then, that we demonstrate whether this doctrine of ours, of which we have now given the rule, has its origin in the tradition of the apostles, and whether all other doctrines do not ipso facto proceed from falsehood” (21).

“But if there be any [heresies] which are bold enough to plant [their origin] in the midst of the apostolic age, that they may thereby seem to have been handed down by the apostles, because they existed in the time of the apostles, we can say: Let them produce the original records of their churches; let them unfold the roll of their bishops, running down in due succession from the beginning in such a manner that [their first] bishop shall be able to show for his ordainer and predecessor some one of the apostles or of apostolic men—a man, moreover, who continued steadfast with the apostles. For this is the manner in which the apostolic churches transmit their registers: as the church of Smyrna, which records that Polycarp was placed therein by John; as also the church of Rome, which makes Clement to have been ordained in like manner by Peter” (32).

The unique unity with Christ available in the Eucharist

I was asked by a friend whether I really believe that my feelings about the validity of the Eucharist go beyond academics and affect my daily walk with Christ. Yes, I do. And here’s why.

I believe that the Eucharist brings me closer to Jesus, really and truly unites me with him in a way that nothing else does. I do not believe that this happens because when I take the Eucharist I enter a state of transcendence or contemplation or exhilaration in the Spirit which nothing else can cause (although I do incidentally believe that it will lead me, and has led the saints, into deeper contemplation of Jesus than anything else). Rather, I believe that taking the Eucharist causes the reality of my union with Jesus to happen even apart from my mental awareness of it. 

This is of great practical advantage to my soul: even on days when I am “not feeling it” at church, we can be united. Can you relate to how exhausting it is to need to have a powerful emotional or charismatic experience in order to be near to Jesus? I have grown hungry for something more constant than that.

But on what basis do I say that the Eucharist unites me to Jesus in a way that nothing else can, even apart from any way it helps me to pray and contemplate or enter his presence in spirit? It can be nothing but that it unites me to Jesus bodily—our bodies are joined, and we become one flesh.

“Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.” This mystery is profound, and I am saying that it refers to Christ and the church. (Ephesians 5:31-32)

I do not want to be crass, but, in deep mystery, it is true that, as the literal bodily union of a man and woman is the consummation of their unity, so too the bodily joining of us and Jesus is the consummation—the pinnacle, the essence, the climax, the fullness—of our unity with him. 

Jesus said this when he said it is necessary to take his body and blood into us to have his life, and that, if we do, then we have his life, and not only do we abide in Christ, in that sense of resting and hoping in him, but he (mystery of mysteries) abides in us!

So Jesus said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day. For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him. (John 6:53-56)

But those who do not eat do not have life in them. So then, I desire to be really and truly united with Jesus in the Eucharist, because I desire eternal life, and because I desire to abide in Jesus, and for him to abide in me, and because I desire that our love be consummated, as a man and woman desire to consummate their marriage bond through the union of their bodies. Thus I do really believe that partaking of the Eucharist will have a profound effect upon my soul. 

It is a great mystery to think that by the act of eating a piece of bread, Jesus would be more near to me than I can bring him with the highest aspirations of my thoughts. But that smacks of the Incarnation itself, when Jesus became flesh, because we, in the futility of our minds, could never ascend to him. Perhaps we should have always expected that the greatest mystery would be worked out through such an earthly means, for “God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, so that no human being might boast in the presence of God” (1 Corinthians 1:27-29), and so that the meaning of Paul’s words would not be tainted in any way by human merit or ambition when he says in the next sentence, “And because of him you are in Christ Jesus.”

Marc Barnes on one-year-olds’ birthday parties

I’ve often thought, and been asked, whether throwing a birthday party for a one-year-old is a little excessive. And while there can be excesses in the way it’s done, I think Marc Barnes has a point that it’s only pointless to throw a one-year-old a birthday party if it’s pointless to throw a birthday party for anyone of any age. Here’s an excerpt from his essay.

The child rips us out of the world—where good deeds are done in exchange for glory—and naturally inaugurates the kind of action adults perform, by grace, within the kingdom of God—where good deeds are done for the sake of reality. I was once asked, “Why celebrate a birthday party for a child too young to remember it?” I answered spontaneously, “Because the world is real!” Not entirely lucid, I’ll admit, but it seems to me now that these early celebrations are holy celebrations for precisely this reason—that they are done “in secret.” The child will not comprehend the party, much less remember it, and so the party cannot be confused for an exchange of cake, ice-cream, and effort for goodwill, good memories and impressed friends. One must face the fact (as your one-year-old spreads frosting on his scalp) that the reality of his birth is worth celebrating for its own sake; that the goodness of existence is real, quite apart from what its celebration can do or what glory it can accrue.

Lead Me in Your Ways, O Lord

Lead me in your ways O Lord and teach me how to live
For I will surely fade away without the help you give
Save me from the final judgment, keep me safe until
At last I make it home to you and rest

O hear me and attend to me, my flesh and mind are weak
Come and aid me quickly, spread your pinions over me
You promised to be with the lowly, help me to be meek
And like a baby still to cling to you

Lord now let your servant go in peace as you have said
My eyes have seen the Savior who will wake us from the dead
Light and Glory of all men, give us our daily bread
And like a vine abide us all in you

All glory, Father, be to you, and you, the better Son
And to you, Holy Spirit, dwelling with them three in one
As it was in the beginning and shall be when all is done
Halleluiah Halleluliah Halleluiah (3x)

Jerry the Squirrel

Jerry the squirrel had no care in the world
He frolicked about with his fluffy tail curled
While the other squirrels filled up their winter nut stores
He said, “I like play! I”ve no time for such chores.”

But one day a very long winter came round
And hardly a nut anywhere could be found
Poor squirrels! And not even a berry
And that spring, well, neither could Jerry

On saying “I am gay”

Can those of us who are orthodox Christians and who are attracted to the same sex say to ourselves or to others, “I am gay”?

If I am a Christian who has admitted that my desires are real, but chosen to renounce them and not act on them, then why do I describe myself by what I have renounced? Like a cheating businessperson who has renounced his ways of cunning greed and quit the business world for a humbler job, I have renounced the way of homosexuality and disowned it.

Someone will say, “You have renounced it, but you must nevertheless face that it is a struggle that defines you. You must accept it as a perpetual, characteristic weakness, and admit the ways that the continual burden of that has shaped who you are.” Very well, but what defines me is not the thing I struggle with in itself, but my struggle against it. I am not free of my struggle with it, but, by the grace of God which is efficacious through my struggle, I am free of it, now in part, and in the resurrection, fully, if I do not give up.

Does living with a constant temptation make it any more a part of my identity than if I had acted on it before and then later begun to deny it? Is the Lord any less my savior? For he who pulls us out of the pit when we fall into it is also he who “is able to keep you from stumbling” into the pit at all. Even if I cannot say, “That was my identity, and now it is not,” I can still say, “That would be my identity, but it is not.” We pray to our Father not only that he will forgive us our sins, but also that he will “lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”

But to let a congenital orientation to sin itself slip so deeply into my sense of self that it becomes simply part of who I am is to give up my struggle. When I begin to identify myself with the sin that “is crouching at my door, and desires to have me,” I risk losing my grip on the hope that I will be free of it one day.

And here’s the crux of it: language that speaks of identity, that simply says, “I am that,” without speaking of the struggle–without relentlessly bringing it up as a caveat and a reminder that holds the identity in check–is to allow the thing itself to eclipse my struggle with it, in my speech. The dark thing itself, spoken alone, will block out the light of hope afforded to us by our struggle.

And whatever I speak will become what I think, and the reality to which I eventually acquiesce.

Congenital orientations toward sin are immense opportunities to question the goodness of God. “Why have you made me this way, God?” That is why, whenever we admit them, we must also proclaim our struggle with them, for only in doing so can we preserve our faith in the triumph of Christ in us, and avoid despondency. In the Jesus Prayer we admit that we are sinners, yet in the same breath cry out for Jesus’s mercy on us. In naming our struggle is our hope, and if we cease to remember it, the clouds of despair are waiting to close in around us.

And that is why it is better for me to describe myself as experiencing same-sex attraction, or better yet, struggling with it, than it is for me to say “I am gay.”

For the record, it’s about the verb “am,” not the adjective “gay.” Or, in fancier grammar-speak, it’s about the fact that it’s an adjectival predicate describing a perpetual characteristic, rather than a verb that expresses action toward and against the object. A “be” verb doesn’t allow any room for struggle, because it doesn’t allow movement. It just “is.” So what I mean is that “gay” vs. “same-sex attracted” is not the issue. It would be fine to say, “I struggle with gayness.” But I doubt that will catch on.