A Polemicist Overreaches

Sometimes I come across distortions aimed at attacking the Catholic Charismatic Renewal; I usually ignore them because I prefer to go positive rather than negative and not be baited or distracted into wasting my time and energy (Screwtape loves to have us distracted with infighting). One distortion that I have come across, both on the web and even in live conversation, is the allegation that St. Teresa of Ávila in her masterwork Interior Castle encourages the reader not to seek "extraordinary graces" (the term in quotation marks is the term used by one anti-charismatic writer whose highly misleading and tendentious critique of the Renewal is included in a prominent Catholic website) and thus not to seek the more remarkable charisms. I am going to address this particular, very specific distortion because I have a strong distaste for those who, whether intentionally or not, distort texts and because this particular distortion is fairly common as an urban myth.

In this particular case, the anti-charismatic scribe cites "Interior Castle 6.9" for his allegation that Teresa discourages readers from seeking the more remarkable charisms. Here is my analysis and response to this exaggerated, unfounded allegation concerning this part of the Interior Castle:

1. If we go to Moradas (Mansions) 6, Chapter 9, we find that the topic of this chapter is "visiones imaginarias" (in the original Spanish) or "imaginary visions" received in private. If you read the entire chapter, you see that she does not mean by the adjective "imaginary" that these visions are fake but affirms that they are indeed visions of the living Jesus which strike the recipient with awe and can be of great benefit to the recipient. She is emphatically not discussing any of the remarkable charisms such as prophecy, healings, miracles, or speaking in interpreted tongues which are directly geared to building up the Church and thus have a public character. She is also not speaking here of praying and praising God in tongues (in another part of the book she does speak positively and exultantly of a very similarly sounding jubilant, rapturous prayer of praise; see this prior Catholic Analysis post on St. Teresa from June 2, 2006; in fact, she prays that God will grant this jubilant prayer often: "May it please His Majesty often to bestow this prayer upon us since it brings us such security and such benefit" in Mansions 6, Ch. 6, p. 165 in Peers translation cited below).

Instead, in the Sixth Mansions, Chapter 9, she is speaking of actual, private visions of Jesus. These private visions are very different from the charisms both in fact and in purpose. Here is the saint's description of these visions:

I speak of an "image," but it must not be supposed that one looks at it as at a painting; it is really alive, and sometimes even speaks to the soul and shows it things both great and secret. But you must realize that, although the soul sees this for a certain length of time, it can no more be gazing at it all the time than it could keep gazing at the sun. So the vision passes very quickly . . . .The brilliance of this vision is like that of infused light or of a sun covered with some material of the transparency of a diamond, if such a thing could be woven. This raiment looks like the finest cambric. Almost invariably the soul on which God bestows this favour remains in rapture, because its unworthiness cannot endure so terrible a sight. I say "terrible," because, though the sight is the loveliest and most delightful imaginable, even by a person who lived and strove to imagine it for a thousand years, because it so far exceeds all that our imagination and understanding can compass, its presence is of such exceeding majesty that it fills the soul with a great terror.

St. Teresa of Ávila, Interior Castle, Sixth Mansions, Chapter 9, trans. E. Allison Peers (Image, 2004), pp. 185-86.



2. We thus have Teresa speaking of marvelous visions of Jesus given in private that are so striking that they cause the recipient great fear and awe. Not surprisingly, she writes that we should not seek out such visions:

I will only warn you that, when you learn or hear that God is granting souls these graces, you must never beseech or desire Him to lead you along this road. . . . I must leave it to the Lord, Who knows me, to lead me by the path which is best for me, so that in all things His will may be done.

Teresa of Ávila, pp. 190-91.

That is surely sound and practical advice that I think surprises no one given the context of these overpowering, magnificent, living visions of the Lord. I do not know about you; but, after reading the description of the vision, I, for one, am happy to follow this saint's advice not to seek out these visions. As a Catholic charismatic, I have never received any such visions. I do not recall ever coming across anyone who has told me that he or she has received such a comparable vision. I have never heard any charismatic request or seek such a vision or recommend that others seek or request such a vision.

Yet, this particular chapter of the Sixth Mansions is singled out as a basis for Catholics not to seek the charisms! To use Chapter 9 of the Sixth Mansions for this purpose is to twist the context so that Teresa ends up contradicting Sacred Scripture, specifically St. Paul (emphasis and bracketed comment added):

1 Corinthians 12:31 (RSV) "But earnestly desire the higher gifts. And I will show you a still more excellent way [the way of agape or love]";

1 Corinthians 14:1 (RSV) "Make love your aim, and earnestly desire the spiritual gifts, especially that you may prophesy."

It is a great disservice, to say the least, to the great Saint and to the faithful to take out of context Teresa's warning not to seek these private visions of the Lord and thus set her writings at odds with Sacred Scripture. In addition, such taking out of context for narrow polemical purposes also sets the Saint's writings at odds with the Second Vatican Council's celebration of the charisms:

It is not only through the sacraments and the ministrations of the Church that the Holy Spirit makes holy the People, leads them and enriches them with his virtues. Allotting his gifts according as he wills (cf. Cor. 12:11), he also distributes special graces among the faithful of every rank. By these gifts he makes them fit and ready to undertake various tasks and offices for the renewal and building up of the Church, as it is written, "the manifestation of the Spirit is given to everyone for profit" (1 Cor. 12:7). Whether these charisms be very remarkable or more simple and widely diffused, they are to be received with thanksgiving and consolation since they are fitting and useful for the needs of the Church. Extraordinary gifts are not to be rashly desired, nor is it from them that the fruits of apostolic labors are to be presumptuously expected. Those who have charge over the Church should judge the genuineness and proper use of these gifts, through their office not indeed to extinguish the Spirit, but to test all things and hold fast to what is good. (cf. Th. 5:12 and 19-21).

Vatican II's Lumen Gentium/"Light of the Nations," Part 12 (second paragraph) (Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, Nov. 21, 1964), available at this link (emphasis added).

Notice that the Council fathers teach that "[e]xtraordinary gifts are not to be rashly desired." The key word is "rashly" which means blindly or recklessly; see this other Catholic Analysis post from August 23, 2007 ("Be Careful With What You Read in Internet Discussions"), giving a detailed consideration of this passage from Lumen Gentium 12. The same anti-charismatic writer tries to twist this passage to mean that we are not to desire the charisms at all. Again, he misrepresents the text in his polemical zeal. It is a great disservice to put St. Teresa at odds with both St. Paul and an ecumenical council.

The lesson here for all Catholics is at least twofold:

1. Beware of anti-charismatic polemics even at prominent Catholic websites. Take them with a grain of salt unless you also hear the other side of the story. Be a prudent judge who hears both sides before reaching a sensible conclusion.

2. Polemical zeal ends up hurting the polemicist who often embarrassingly overreaches to his own chagrin. It's better to leave polemicism aside and instead simply conduct a calm search for the truth that does not end up misrepresenting, as in the case discussed here, the writings of a great Saint and thus creating unnecessary confusion among the sincerely faithful.

Biblical Scholar David Noel Freedman (1922-2008)

Periodically, I will note the passing of great theological and biblical scholars. Today, I note the passing earlier this year, at age 85, of famed biblical scholar David Noel Freedman who was a leading figure behind the multi-volume Anchor Bible Dictionary and multi-volume Anchor Bible commentaries that continue to be first-rate resources for those of us who love to study the Scriptures (of course, as should be obvious, that accolade does not mean I or anyone else agrees with all of the contents of these works). Here is a link from the Society of Biblical Literature to learn more about his career and contributions and maybe to motivate some readers to take a look at the Anchor resources that are available. Here is an excerpt from one tribute:

During a career of 60 years, Freedman wrote, co-authored or edited 470 books and articles on the Hebrew Bible, the New Testament, the Dead Sea Scrolls, and archaeology. Some of these proved controversial, but Freedman’s attitude toward the work of others was, “Let a thousand flowers bloom!” He was the most uncensorious of men, and his unpretentious demeanor earned him the love of hundreds of students, colleagues and readers. Freedman was a tireless spokesman for the beauty, interest and relevancy of the Bible and biblical studies. His work affected a variety of cultural communities, with fans including Jews and Christians of all stripes, plus numerous secularists.

Source link (emphasis added).

Here is another tribute by his longtime assistant printed in the popular magazine Biblical Archaeology Review:

I knew him to be a warm, unfailingly generous and compassionate man. He wrote thousands of heartfelt letters of recommendation, each a personal missive; he was never too busy. He wrote joint articles with his students . . . to get them into publication. He provided financial assistance and assistantships of all sorts. He forgave grave insults. Forgiveness, to him, was the essence of Christianity. He could accept teasing. He loved people. He was ever kind. I will miss him more than I can ever say, as will many of you, readers, friends, colleagues, who mourn his passing.

. . . .

Requiescas in pace.
'alav hashalom.

Dr. Astrid B. Beck, University of Michigan, "David Noel Freedman (1922-2008)," Biblical Archeaology Review, July/August 2008, p. 16.

Why aren't more of us like that?

Part VII on Time for God: The Thorn in the Flesh

I continue with Fr. Jacques Philippe's little book on personal prayer Time for God. Today, I will treat the theme of how the Lord uses our sufferings for good: "Sometimes God wounds us more effectively by leaving us in our wretchedness than by healing us of it!" (Fr. Philippe, p. 74). By "wounding," the author is referring to God's touching us at a "deep level of our being [so] that we cannot do without him any more" (p. 72). What is the purpose here?

[N]ot attaining ideal perfection, but being unable to do without God, being constantly bound to him, by our wretchedness as much as by our virtues, so that his love can pour itself into us unceasingly and we somehow give ourselves entirely to him because we have no alternative. This attachment will sanctify us and bring us to perfection.

Fr. Philippe, p. 74.

The author finds in this reality of being bound to God by our trials "the explanation of many things in the spiritual life" (p. 74). Hence, the reason for the title of this post emerges from the life of St. Paul:

Now we can see why Jesus did not deliver Paul from the "thorn in the flesh," the "angel of Satan sent to buffet him," but only answered his appeal with: "My grace is sufficient for you, because my power is shown forth in weakness" (2 Cor. 12:9).

Fr. Philippe, p. 74.

This thorn opens us up to deeper prayer:

This also explains why the poor and the little ones, those who have been wounded by life, often have gifts of prayer not found among the well-to-do. Above all, mental prayer ultimately consists of keeping this wound of love open, preventing it from healing over. Here is yet another guide to what we should do in prayer. When the smarting of the wound becomes less keen through routine, laziness, and loss of our first love, then we need to take action, wake up, stir up the heart and stimulate it to love by making use of good thoughts and resolutions.

Fr. Philippe, p. 75.

Some will see in all of this talk of keeping the wound open an unhealthy, stereotypically Catholic sadomasochism. Here is the grand difference that makes the difference:

If, however, the heart is open and God's love is being poured into us, we need simply to surrender ourselves to that outpouring without doing anything except consent to it or else doing what that love itself prompts us to do by way of response.

Fr. Philippe, p. 75.

The love poured into us by God is the Holy Spirit himself (urgently see and read Romans 5:3-5, reproduced below). That Spirit is joy and peace beyond imagining, beyond our trials, beyond our circumstances. The end is not some sort of dysfunctional sadomasochim but a joy that is not and cannot be defeated by any circumstances, trials, or tribulations in this life--trials and sufferings, let us note, that we will all face, whether we pray or not. We humans beings are in dire need of a continuous outpouring of more and more agape, all of the time. From and through our trials, God makes us ready to receive it and actually bestows it (see Rom. 8:28).

I end with these prophetic words by Fr. Philippe about our times that you can ponder, along with me:

In these spiritually impoverished times, I believe that God is directing an especially urgent response to our state of woundedness. As a result, the traditional stages of progress in the spiritual life are frequently turned upside down. People are often propelled into mental prayer without passing through preliminary stages, and may receive the "wound" described here almost immediately. It may come with the grace of conversion; or through the experience of the outpouring of the Holy Spirit, which can happen in charismatic renewal and elsewhere; or through a providential time of trial through which God takes hold of us.

Fr. Philippe, p. 76 (emphasis added).

That is why I believe that there is a new urgency to inviting as many as possible to experience a new outpouring of the Holy Spirit, especially in these times. That is why, personally speaking, I do not hesitate to invite any and all to seek that new outpouring in an Alpha course or Life in the Spirit Seminar. It is no coincidence that our own Pope issued the call for a new outpouring of the Holy Spirit at the recently completed World Youth Day in Australia.

Appendix: Romans 5:3-5 (New American Bible)

Not only that, but we even boast of our afflictions, knowing that affliction produces endurance, and endurance, proven character, and proven character, hope,

and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out into our hearts through the holy Spirit that has been given to us.

The Golden Counsels of St. Francis de Sales

Here is a link that I have recently added to the side margin section entitled "Resources for Renewal." It is a collection of some of the sayings of the great and gentle St. Francis de Sales (1567-1622). It's a very inspiring and uplifting collection of insights from the great saint. The common theme that struck me in reading his little "proverbs" and counsel is that of resting in the peace of God even when we err and even in the midst of great tribulation. As a saint, obviously imbued with the Holy Spirit, what St. Francis is exercising here is the charism of word or utterance of wisdom (1 Cor. 12:8; the NAB calls this charism "expression of wisdom"). The counsels are full of insight and even wit. Here is an example:

There is a real temptation to become dissatisfied with the world and depressed about it when we must be in it. God's providence is wiser than we are. We imagine we would feel better if we were on another ship; that may be, but only if we change ourselves!

Source link (red emphasis added).

Notice the wisdom in the words in red: we think the grass is greener in a very different circumstance; and, yes, we may be right. But the improvement will only materialize if we have changed ourselves. You see this reality all of the time when people change jobs or relationships of all kinds. The problems follow them because the wound that needs healing has not been healed. In many cases, the constant impulse is to blame others for all our problems and to fail to take personal responsibility. Taking personal responsibility means that we must be open to and seek out the healing grace or charis of the Lord Jesus through the power of the Holy Spirit. It is foolish to be Christian or Catholic and fail to tap into the healing power of Jesus. It's like a very thirsty man at a well who refuses to take a drink.

The wise counsels of St. Francis de Sales are not mere self-improvement tips as if we were reading the dry, secular advice for self-improvement of, say, a Benjamin Franklin or some modern self-help author who is the latest incarnation of that somewhat eccentric and non-Christian historical figure. Rather, if you read the counsels carefully, you will see the call to respond to the leading and inspirations of the Holy Spirit. That leading is what separates secular bootstrap self-improvement from Christian transformation. Healing and transformation do not come from our own bootstrap efforts but from surrendering to the leading of the Lord. Read the counsels in that Spirit, and you will receive far more than the secular quest for self-improvement will ever deliver. You will receive healing, not just self-absorbed busyness that fails to address the wounds that we carry with us.

Yes, They Were Loud

Sometimes we travel through life with the wrong impression of our saints and of the great biblical figures. Sometimes we have an unconsciously wrong impression of Christ himself. In the Gospel reading for the Feast of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary just celebrated, we have the famous passage in which Elizabeth, full of the Holy Spirit, prophesies about the Virgin Mary (bold emphasis added):

Luke 1:41-42 (ESV) 41 And when Elizabeth heard the greeting of Mary, the baby leaped in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit, 42 and she exclaimed with a loud cry, "Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb!

Now, take a look at this passage from the Letter to the Hebrews (bold emphasis added):

Hebrews 5:7 7 In the days of his flesh, Jesus offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to him who was able to save him from death, and he was heard because of his reverence.

If we look at the original New Testament Greek of these passages, the impact of the words in bold print is even greater. In the passage from the Letter to the Hebrews, Jesus prays "with a strong shouting and tears." In the Luke passage, Elizabeth prophesies about Mary "with a great shouting." Also, notice the mention of the "tears" accompanying the prayers of Jesus. Since that time, many Christians, known and unknown, have experienced the gift of tears in prayer and at Mass. The Spirit leads us to reread the Word of God again with new eyes. We should think of passages such as these before we start reprimanding or disdaining people who manifest loud enthusiasm for the Lord. Also notice that in the passage from Hebrews the strong shouting and tears of Jesus are described as "reverent." These passages remind me of accounts I have read of Christianity in the Third World, in places like Africa and Latin America, where people are culturally open to such loud cries of praise and supplication. No wonder that these exuberant Christians can intuitively identify with and feel some inherent familiarity with the earthy, passionate world described in the pages of the Bible--something that many in the West find very difficult to do, maybe because of our intellectual pride and vanity.

Pope Paul VI: A Great Pope

Liberals dislike him because Paul VI prophetically [and I am not using that adverb in a merely metaphorical sense] reaffirmed the Church's rejection of contraception. The evil of contraception is so obvious that it takes willful blindness not to see the social and personal consequences and costs of wrenching sex from its natural context of procreation: fornication is now so common that it is viewed as a sign of a healthy, outgoing personality, as part of being mature, popular, and likeable. My own personal thesis is that this contraceptive-spawned cult of fornication as normal is what has poisoned many, many marriages in ways that not even those affected are conscious of themselves. We live in a world where we do not even recognize the sickness that afflicts us.

Self-styled traditional Catholics dislike Paul VI for the post-Vatican II Mass. In contrast, I view the legitimately authorized post-Vatican II reform of the liturgy as an essential and required renewal of the Church herself so that the Sacrifice of the Holy Mass would be understood in the language of each nation, as the proclamation of the mighty works of God was understood in the language of each listener at the first Pentecost in Acts 2. The Holy Mass is a perpetual Pentecost--it must be heard and prayed in the languages of all. But, of course, we have many who claim and certainly do feel "more Catholic than the Pope" who will differ openly or more diplomatically (as their tactical self-interest requires) on this point and push for the full Latinization of the Mass; in fact I believe that many of these would like to see the Mass of the Roman Rite offered in Latin only (what other conclusion can you draw from groups, even within the Church, that adamantly and strangely refuse to celebrate the post-Vatican II Mass at all?). In my opinion, such exaggerated liturgical obsession is a blind spiritual alley marked by the lurking idolatry of aestheticism. But, as in the case of contraception and its effects noted above, many who suffer from the affliction are not even conscious of the malady.

Here is a recent summer tribute to Paul VI from Benedict XVI. August 6th was the 30th anniversary of the death of Pope Paul VI. The comments are introduced and translated by reporter John Allen (emphasis added by blogger):

Here's the full text of what Pope Benedict XVI had to say about Paul VI during his Aug. 3 [2008] Angelus addressed, delivered in Bressanone, in northern Italy, where Benedict is passing a couple of weeks of vacation. Benedict spoke in Italian; the following is my translation.

"Now, dear friends, I invite you to foster together with me a devoted and filial memory of the Servant of God Pope Paul VI, since, three days from now, we will recall the 30th anniversary of his death. It was in fact the evening of August 6, 1978, when he rendered his spirit to God; that evening was the feast of the Transfiguration of Jesus, the mystery of divine light that always exercised a singular fascination upon his soul. Such a supreme Pastor of the Church, Paul VI guided the People of God toward the contemplation of the face of Christ, Redeemer of humanity and Lord of history. It was precisely the loving orientation of the mind and heart towards Christ which was one of the cardinal points of the Second Vatican Council, a fundamental attitude which my venerated predecessor John Paul II inherited and re-launched in the Great Jubilee of 2000. Christ is always at the center of everything; at the center of Sacred Scripture and tradition, at the heart of the church, of the world and of the entire universe."

"Divine Providence called Giovanni Battista Montini from the Chair of Milan to that of Rome in the most delicate moment of the Council -- when the intuition of Blessed John XXIII was at risk of not taking form. How can we not give thanks to the Lord for his fertile and courageous pastoral activity? Bit by bit, as our view of the past expands and our understanding deepens, the merit of Paul VI in presiding over the Council, leading it happily to its conclusion, and then governing the turbulent post-conciliar phase, appears ever greater -- indeed, I would say, almost super-human. We can truly say, with the apostle Paul, that in him the grace of God 'was not in vain' (1 Cor 15:10); it made the most of his obvious gifts of intelligence and his passionate love for the church and for humanity. As we give thanks to God for the gift of this great pope, let us commit ourselves to treasuring his teachings."

Source link.

Pope Benedict XVI does not share the view of recent Church history that is in the bloodstream of so many self-styled traditional, conservative Catholics. As I understand it, Bishop Fellay of the schismatic Society of Saint Pius X recently called Benedict XVI a "perfect liberal." Of course, that is an absurd characterization by Fellay; but the absurd rhetoric confirms that Benedict XVI is a far bigger and far more expansive personality and thinker than many, who are much smaller, are able to handle. Benedict is bigger than even what many of his self-proclaimed fans can handle. But that should be no surprise for those who have long realized that St. Thomas Aquinas is far bigger than so many self-proclaimed Thomists.

You Don't Have to Wait Till You Get to Heaven

Timothy Keller is an evangelical preacher in Manhattan (of all places!) who has written an excellent and very timely book called The Reason for God: Belief in an Age of Skepticism (Dutton, 2008). I had previously heard him speak on audio tapes commenting on various biblical themes. He was excellent on tape and now again in this book. Among many fine insights, he dissects the incoherence of the criticism of Christianity by those who espouse evolutionary biology as their religion. If you have an atheist friend, give him this book or urge him to buy it or to check it out from the local library.

I plan to write more in the future about the book. But, today, I wanted to post a quote from Catholic (and fellow Southern) writer Flannery O'Connor that appears in the epilogue of Keller's book. The quote describes a vision seen by one of her fictional characters, a Mrs. Turpin, who is a very self-righteous, proud, smug, and superior sort of proper Christian lady who compulsively looks down her nose on "trashy" people:

A visionary light settled in her eyes. She saw . . . a vast swinging bridge extending upward from the earth through a field of living fire. Upon it a vast horde of souls were rumbling toward heaven. There were whole companies of . . . trash [a Southern term for the allegedly inferior]. . . and battalions of freaks and lunatics shouting and clapping and leaping like frogs. [But at the] end was a tribe of people whom she recognized at once as those who, like herself and Claud [her respectable spouse], had always had a little of everything and the God-given wit to use it right . . . They were marching behind the others with great dignity, accountable as they had always been for good order and common sense and respectable behavior. They alone were on key. Yet she could see by their shocked and altered faces that even their virtues were being burned away . . . . In a moment the vision faded . . . . In the woods around her the invisible cricket choruses had struck up, but what she heard were the voices of the souls climbing upward into the starry field and shouting hallelujah.

Flannery O'Connor, "Revelation," from Three by Flannery O'Connor (Penguin, 1983), reprinted in Keller, p. 239 (emphasis added by blogger).

After having spent time recently reading some of the writings of St. Catherine of Siena, I suspect from this excerpt that Flannery O'Connor was a bit or more of a mystic herself. Shouting, clapping, leaping--very charismatic. In heaven, we will all be charismatics. Why not start now? Why delay? For the proof, just take a look at the robust and vibrant praise in heaven recorded in the book of Revelation.

Part VI: Time for God

Fr. Jacques Philippe gives a good, commonsense warning to those who seek to learn more about the life of prayer: "[H]ighly schematic accounts of stages in the interior life should probably not be taken too literally . . . , especially in a time and place when God in his wisdom often seems to operate by a different set of rules" (Time for God, pp. 66-7). It's commonsense advice; but we, especially Catholics, have a tendency to want to compulsively follow a particular pattern, checklist, or ritual in our prayer life. That compulsive tendency comes from our fallen nature which is inevitably insecure and always, understandably, seeking the security of the known, the familiar, the routine. The Pauline standard would be to maintain a balance: everything to be done in peace and order (see 1 Cor. 14:40) but without quenching the Spirit (1 Thess. 5:19). Pursuing balance is harder than giving in to compulsion. But balance is worth it because it leads to growth; compulsion leads to rigor mortis and sometimes even to an eventual exit from the life of prayer.

Having set the stage with that wise counsel, Fr. Philippe then moves to what is, to me, of high personal interest: the movement from "an 'active' to a more 'passive' kind of prayer" (pp. 68-9). Let me quote a paragraph that I found striking in illuminating my own personal experience--it may illuminate your own present or forthcoming experience:

What does the transformation [from active to more passive prayer] consist of? It is a special gift from God, received suddenly by people who have persevered in prayer. It cannot be acquired by force, but is a pure grace--although faithfulness to mental prayer [meditation] plays a large part in preparing for it and making it more likely. It may come very soon, sometimes only after years, sometimes not at all. It is often almost unnoticed at first. It can be transient, especially at the beginning, and come and go.

Fr. Philippe, p. 68 (emphasis added).

Notice the pattern: if we persevere in prayer, we receive as grace or charis something more. It's not a matter of plowing through stages compulsively and thus "earning" the reward of mystical union. As all the saints I know of testify, all is grace or charis. We continue seeking and find as the Gospel commands us to do, but we are not earning or forcing or creating anything. We are simply receiving. If you are not open to receive, then all the external liturgical devotions in the world, however excellent, will not gain you one iota of the gift of a more passive, deeper prayer. The tree bears fruit that lasts when the heart is truly open to receive all that God wants to give.

What exactly is this new more passive type of mental or contemplative prayer? Here is the description:

The new stage is a kind of prayer in which God's action gradually predominates, while the soul lets itself be acted upon rather than acting, keeping itself in an attitude of simplicity, abandonment, and loving, peaceful attention toward God.

Fr. Philippe, p. 68.

The author notes that, at first, one may think that things are not going so well:

In the case of meditation, entry into the new stage is often marked by a sort of dryness, an inability to make one's thought processes work, and a tendency to remain in God's presence without doing anything--not out of inertia or spiritual laziness but in a loving abandonment to God. This transformation should be received as a major grace, even though somewhat disconcerting for people previously accustomed to say a lot to our Lord or to meditate successfully.

Fr. Philippe, p. 69.

The author then turns to St. John of the Cross who "had to work hard (and even argue quite bluntly against certain spiritual directors who did not understand this reality at all) to convince people given this grace that they should welcome it" (p. 69). This "little" saint (he was said to be only 4 feet 10 inches tall and his close friend St. Teresa of Ávila referred to him as "little" but also noted that he was "big" in the eyes of God) urged people to welcome this "impoverishment" as a "true enrichment" and "not try to return to their former habit of meditation . . . . [t]hey should be content to stay before God in an attitude of self-forgetfulness and simple, loving, peaceful attentiveness" (p. 69).

Here is a further description:

Prayer now becomes a deep outpouring of love, sometimes perceptible and sometimes not, in which God and the soul give themselves to one another. This is contemplation, according to St. John of the Cross: the "secret, peaceful, loving infusion" by which God gives himself to us. God pours himself into the soul and the soul pours itself into God by the working of the Holy Spirit in our soul.

Fr. Philippe, p. 71.

I must say that this last description reminds me of the experience of praising God in tongues, especially before a crucifix or tabernacle. I can testify that you don't have to be perfect or free of temptations or have perfect immediate and life circumstances to have this experience. Notice that the deep outpouring of love can be perceptible--it need not always be silent. That's why I and others say that there is no contradiction between the charismatic and the deeply contemplative. They work together in surprising ways, surprising to our tendency to underestimate what the Lord of surprises can do. He seems not to be much given to being hemmed in by the grids that we like to impose on reality.

The Charismatic Impact

In the August/September 2008 issue of First Things, there is an excellent letter by a Catholic who entered the Church from a previous Protestant charismatic experience. The letter was prompted by the article "Thinking in Tongues," by Calvin College philosophy professor James K.A. Smith (Calvin College in Grand Rapids, Michigan, is the alma mater of Catholic apologist Peter Kreeft) on Pentecostal theology published in the April 2008 issue. Here is the letter with emphasis added and my comments in brackets:

Tongues No Longer Tied

I owe James K.A. Smith a debt of gratitude for giving me a context in which to place my own charismatic Christian experience [note that here, and at other points in the letter, she is not referring to the Catholic Charismatic Renewal but rather to a Protestant charismatic experience] and eventual homecoming to the Catholic faith (“Thinking in Tongues,” April). During my college years, I was transformed from self-reliant agnostic to a committed disciple of Christ, much through the witness and love of the members of a “third-wave” charismatic fellowship. The aspects of the Pentecostal worldview that Smith notes—especially the radical openness to God and the dynamic presence and activity of the Spirit—were part of our group’s worldview, and I will ever be thankful to have taken my first Christian steps within a body that placed the knowledge and love of Jesus Christ above all else.

[You can get that same experience of radical openness to God and of the dynamic presence and activity of the Spirit in the Catholic Charismatic Renewal.]

The suggestion that Pentecostalism holds a sacramental worldview is borne out in the ease of my accepting the sacraments of the Church. When one has lived for fifteen years expecting and experiencing God’s presence in prayer, the gifts of tongues and prophecy, physically expressive worship, and healing, the concept of the Real Presence in the Eucharist is only a reasonable next step. After years of praying and hoping for the Lord to “make himself present” in worship, I found a place where he always truly is—the tabernacle. The Eucharist is the closest I can come on earth to all that I sought in those earlier days.

[That's why Catholic newly "baptized in the Spirit" who receive a new outpouring of the Holy Spirit in the Catholic Charismatic Renewal are drawn to Eucharistic devotion and adoration. And, of course, that Eucharistic devotion is marked by heartfelt reverence in the liturgy. In my opinion, the most authentic and fruitful liturgical reverence is rooted in the heart, in the outpouring of the Spirit, not in exaggerated, merely legalistic rubricism.]

A major impetus to my conversion to Catholicism was a hunger for a rigorous intellectual conversation with the faith. And though the Church has her struggles with dissidence, her longevity and consistency of creed through two thousand years of sin and strife seemed a mighty refuge compared with the church start-ups and split-ups and I experienced in the charismatic movement. I have sometimes been disappointed in the clergy or in the bureaucracy of the Catholic Church, but never in her saints, her teachings, or in the two popes I have called father.

[That reminds me of the anecdote of how St. Josemaría Escrivá used to say (as I recall the words): "I believe in one, holy, Catholic, and apostolic Church--in spite of everything."]

I love being Catholic, but there are a few things I miss: the freedom I shared with my brethren in spontaneous prayer; the radical openness to God that asked “What is God doing?” as opposed to “What’s next on the program?”; the understanding of worship as a true meeting with the Almighty that demanded wholehearted participation; and the unrelenting quest for submission to Christ. I can pursue all these as a Catholic—as the saints before me did—but I’ve been given help doing so from my Pentecostal experience.

[She can get all of those things that she misses in the Catholic Charismatic Renewal.]

Eileen M. Cunis
Campton, New Hampshire

Further Blogger Comment:

I print the letter because it is a testimony that resonates deeply with my own experience as a Catholic charismatic and that of many others. I recall a saying from someone, to the effect, that if you are going to be a Christian, you might as well go all the way and be Catholic. I add this: if you are going to be Catholic, you might as well go all the way and really open yourself [not just empty lip service] to all the gifts and charisms of the Holy Spirit. This lady's eloquent testimony recounts what awaits you and is available to you in the heart of the Catholic Church. All the wonderful Christian experiences that she had as a Protestant charismatic are available in the heart of the Catholic Church as a Catholic charismatic. She does not have to resign herself to no longer having or missing such experiences which every Catholic should embrace and have, the experiences that she so eloquently describes: "the freedom I shared with my brethren in spontaneous prayer; the radical openness to God that asked “What is God doing?” as opposed to “What’s next on the program?”; the understanding of worship as a true meeting with the Almighty that demanded wholehearted participation; and the unrelenting quest for submission to Christ." Messianic Jews (Jews who become Christians) like to refer to themselves as "completed Jews" once they do become Christians. We can likewise say that Protestant charismatics who enter the Catholic Church become "completed charismatics" once they become Catholic. They need not leave behind nor quench any good gifts of the Holy Spirit. In fact, they can bring a great neglected treasure to their fellow Catholics: the co-essential charismatic dimension, as John Paul the Great said, of the Catholic faith.

There is another interesting letter in the same August/September issue of First Things in which the writer points out something that this blog has been at pains to point out: how the charismatic experience is also mystical and contemplative. It is important to underline this point because you often here the lame excuse that someone prefers the contemplative over the charismatic. The excuse is lame because the charismatic and the contemplative are intertwined and inseparable. Here is an excerpt from that letter by Stephen J. Schuler of Texas:

Aside from its emphasis on bodily forms of worship and physical healing, Pentecostalism is, as Smith points out, rooted in an “affective mode of knowing.” Perhaps a comparable term would be mysticism. The term is not without its ambiguities, so I understand why Smith would not resort to it. Yet, as I look back on my own Pentecostal upbringing, I can see a good many practices that I now recognize as forms of Christian mysticism. Whether or not most Pentecostals are aware of their similarity to other Christian mysticisms, there are distinct parallels. Pentecostal mysticism is characterized by self-denial and a desire to be “taken over” by the Holy Spirit. “Let go and let God” is still a popular admonition in many congregations. Some actively encourage meditation on Scripture, and Pentecostalism has long been known for its tendency to privilege the inner voice of the Spirit over all other ways of knowing.

For the most mystical of Pentecostals, the height of spirituality is an ineffable, ecstatic experience of intimacy with God.

Stephen J. Schuler, in "Correspondence: August/September Letters," under the section "Tongues No Longer Tied," in the August/Sept. 2008 issue of First Things.

Part V: Time for God

Finding the garden of the soul--that is the thought that strikes me as I continue commenting on Fr. Jacques Philippe's little book on contemplative prayer (see the label "Fr. Philippe" in the blog side margin for my previous comments on the book). Fr. Philippe starts with a simple principle that echoes the Gospel: "God dwells in our hearts" (p. 62). Remember those words of Jesus: "For the kingdom of God is within you" (blogger's translation of Luke 17:21b). Remember the familiar words of St. Augustine that God was always with him but that he, Augustine, was not with God:

Here is the truth [namely, God's presense in our own heart] that confers meaning upon the element of recollection and inwardness in mental prayer. Otherwise recollection would be mere self-absorption. Christians can legitimately enter into themselves because, beyond and deeper than all their inner wretchedness, they find God, "more intimate to us than we ourselves," as St. Augustine put it; God who dwells in us through the grace of the Holy Spirit. "The deepest center of the soul," says St. John of the Cross, "is God."

Fr. Philippe, p. 63.

The tragedy is that some never discover that secret garden in the soul that should not be secret at all:

Yet many men and women do not know about this inner space of communion with God because they have never gone there, never visited this garden to gather its fruits. Happy are they who make the discovery of the Kingdom of God within themselves. It will change their lives.

Fr. Philippe, p. 64 (original emphasis).

And there is the very practical reason to find that secret garden in our souls where God is present--to change our daily lives:

This is a truth of immense importance [namely, that he who persists will find God within him] for the whole of life. If by persevering in mental prayer we discover that "place of the heart," little by little our thoughts, choices, and actions, which all too often spring from superficial levels (our worries, annoyances, immediate reactions), will begin to have their source in the deep center of the soul where we are united to God in love. Then everything will proceed from love, and then we will be free.

Fr. Philippe, p. 65.

That's what the Christian life is all about: freedom, and the path lies within us.

Reforming the Center of the Roman Rite for a New Pentecost

The Vatican recently approved changes to the English translation of the Roman Rite according to the Ordinary Form. The Ordinary Form or post-Vatican II Mass is the central form of the Roman Rite. Hence, the English translation now approved, and apparently to be implemented at sometime in the more distant future, is crucial to us English-speakers. Those familiar with the Spanish translation will not that some, if not all (I would have to check carefully first before making a firm universal statement), of these changes are already present in the Spanish translation. There is a convenient table showing the changes that are to eventually come your way, at some unspecified time, at this link provided by the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops.

We now have the ordinary parts of the Roman Rite newly translated into English. Don't let anyone hoodwink or intimidate you into thinking that the post-Vatican II Mass is an inferior version of the Roman Rite. The Ordinary Form or post-Vatican II Mass is no less a form of the Roman Rite than any other form of the Roman Rite. We can emphatically affirm this non-exclusive statement: The post-Vatican II Mass is the Roman Rite. In my opinion, those holding otherwise (whether explicitly or implicitly for the sake of self-protection) are not in full communion with the teaching of the Catholic Church in the same way that those who advocate ordination of women are not in full communion with the teaching of the Catholic Church.

Recall the story of Pentecost in Acts 2: three times Luke tells us that the people witnessing Pentecost heard the proclamation of the mighty works of God each in his own language. This translation continues that great Pentecostal labor (the adjective is originally Catholic and appropriately Catholic even and especially today) of letting all hear the praises of God and His mighty works "each . . . in his own language" (Acts 2:6; see also Acts 2:8, 11). Translating the telling of the mighty works of God in the Holy Mass is not an option--it is a biblical, evangelistic imperative from the origins of the Catholic Church.

Catholic Puritanism: No Thanks

The very quotable H.L. Mencken (1880-1956) has a famous quote on Puritanism as "the haunting fear that someone, somewhere, may be happy" (by the way, I don't agree with all of Mencken's quotes). Sometimes I think of that quote when I come across some Catholics uncomfortable with the emotional expressions of joy and praise among Catholic charismatics or among young Catholics at events like World Youth Day. As others have said, there seems to be a puritanical strain in American Catholicism that is highly suspicious of any manifestation of external joy in being Catholic. Some have termed this suspicion of external joy "Jansenistic" after the famous movement in 17th and 18th century French Catholicism which emphasized an exaggerated moral rigorism. (How the Jansenist strain ended up on American shores is a topic for another occasion.) Here is an excerpt to give a flavor of the mindset of "Jansenism":


The Jesuits encouraged Catholics, including those struggling with sin, to receive Holy Communion frequently, arguing that Christ instituted it as a means to holiness for sinners, and stating that the only requirement for receiving Communion (apart from baptism) was that the communicant be free of mortal sin at the time of reception. The Jansenists, in line with their deeply pessimistic theology, discouraged frequent Communion, arguing that a high degree of perfection, including purification from attachment to venial sin, was necessary before approaching the Sacrament.

"Jansenism," Wikipedia, at this link (emphasis added).

The Jesuits also pointed out that Jansenism's emphasis on predestination sounded like Protestant Calvinism. It is interesting how theological extremes tend to bring apparent opposites together. We see it today in contemporary Catholicism where extreme traditionalists have set up a parallel magisterium in defiance of the Pope, as is the hallmark of classical Protestantism and of many Catholic theological liberals. "Cafeteria Catholics" come in both traditional and liberal garb. After reading about Jansenism and all its complex, hair-splitting controversies, I am reminded of the schismatic Society of St. Pius X which is constantly spouting new distinctions to justify its own parallel non-papal magisterium and its strange, oxymoronic "obedient disobedience" of the Church.

Heresy is what contradicts divine revelation. It is divine revelation that joy is a fruit of the Holy Spirit (see, for example, Galatians 5:22). As you read the Bible (both Old and New Testaments), you will see repeatedly that this joy is expected to be manifested externally. Sometimes, you will hear those with Jansenistic tendencies speak about a deep, interior joy. Yes, such a deep, interior joy is part of the Christian life of increasing union with God and is a great and blessed source of interior freedom in the face of externally negative, sometimes dire circumstances. But the modern Jansenistic conclusion does not follow. The reality of a deep, interior joy does not make external manifestation of joy merely optional for a Christian and certainly does not make externally manifested joy dangerous for a Christian. (In logic, we call a conclusion that does not follow a "non sequitur" which simply means "it does not follow" in Latin). Externally manifested joy is an anticipated, well-documented biblical sign of the presence of the Holy Spirit. The modern Jansenistic tendency to frown upon external manifestations of Christian joy reminds me of a witty remark by Winston Churchill. His wife once tried to console him by telling him that a particular disappointment was really a blessing in disguise. Churchill wryly replied that the blessing was very well disguised indeed. That's the response I have when I come across modern Jansenists who emphasize a very, very deep, very subterranean experience of Christian joy as trumping external manifestations of Christian joy: the subterranean variety is so very well disguised that one can be forgiven for at times doubting its alleged existence!

Externally manifested joy rooted in the Holy Spirit is a great evangelizer. The purported subterranean variety of joy is not. That's another reason to say no thanks to a modern Jansenistic mentality that is troubled by the fear that somewhere a Catholic is vigorously and sometimes loudly expressing joy and praise to the Lord whose love never lets go of us in spite of our circumstances.

Note:

It is interesting that one of the Jansenist propositions condemned by a Pope was the Jansenist proposition that Christ did not die for all (this Jansenist proposition sure sounds Calvinistic to me). Hmm, that's an interesting historical footnote given longstanding (and frankly tiresome) disputes about translating the phrase "pro multis" in the Mass as "for many" or as "for all." Theologically speaking, as Cardinal Ratzinger himself as noted, saying "for many" does not imply that Christ's death was not "for all." See this Catholic Analysis post from Nov. 20, 2006.

Let's permit Cardinal Ratzinger to have the last word:

In the New Testament as a whole, and in the whole of the tradition of the Church, it has always been clear that God desires that everyone should be saved and that Jesus died, not just for a part of mankind, but for everyone . . . . [H]e [God] loves everyone because he has created everyone. That is why the Lord died for all. . . . It was on the basis of this knowledge that in the seventeenth centrury there was an explicit condemnation of a Jansenist proposition that asserted that Christ did not die for everyone.

Ratzinger, God is Near Us (Ignatius Press, 2003), p. 35 (emphasis added).

The just recently approved change in the Mass translation which substitutes "for many" in place of "for all" does not change the theological truth that Christ did die for all. Those who imply otherwise are gravely mistaken and contradict divine revelation.

The Implicit "Pious" Heresy: Excessive Fear of the Charisms

Yes, even those who are apparently pious, also share in the temptation toward the heretical. It happens unconsciously. A paralyzing, excessive fear can grip those who seek to be pious: a fear that the devil will trick them into evil. That fear plays a role in the fear of some toward charisms such as prophecy, healings, tongues, or miracles. The thinking seems to go like this: it's possible that the devil might be manipulating us, hence let's not seek or ask for such charisms at all or exercise them at all. Well, if that had been the thinking of the saints we venerate, St. Francis of Assisi would not have been a prophetic preacher, the great healers among the saints would not have exercised the charism of healing (see Catechism 1508), and St. Paul would not have prayed in tongues as he was delighted to tell others that he did (see 1 Cor. 14:18). And no saint would have persisted in performing miracles during his lifetime. This type of thinking will then try to coopt these unassailable facts of Catholic tradition by saying that we are not saints or mystics. Well, that view is itself a heresy: we are called by Baptism to holiness, to being saints, to union with God, all of us (Catechism 2013). Period. Yes, this coming closer to God is a process, yes we fall; but we get up again and by the grace (in New Testament Greek: charis) of God, we move forward. The historical fact that not all have exercised the charisms through the centuries does not mean that the charisms are not available to all those who, in agape and good faith, want and seek more.The wrongheaded fear that leads us to flee the charisms illustrates a pattern that is clear from Church history: take the first wrong step by implicitly embracing heresy (in this case, the implicit heresy that the devil controls the charisms) and then you keep accumulating more heresy (such as narrowing the call to holiness) as increasingly far-fetched excuses to defend the indefensible first step taken.

We are not so much to fear the devil but rather to fear the Lord. By fearing the Lord, we recognize his amazing and awesome power. We stop making excuses based on our own weaknesses such as Moses initially did (Exodus 4:1-17). We recognize that all our fruit and accomplishments come from the Lord, not from our own power. We recognize that the Lord has defeated the devil. Here is the Catechism commenting on the heresy of excessive fear of the devil that we must avoid:

The power of Satan is . . . not infinite. He is only a creature, powerful from the fact that he is pure spirit, but still a creature. He cannot prevent the building up of God's reign.

Catechism 395 (emphasis added).

The charisms are given by the Lord precisely to build up His reign, His kingdom. Satan cannot prevent this building up, but we play into his hands when we allow paralyzing fear to keep us from following the biblical command to zealously seek and desire the charisms (see 1 Cor. 12:31;14:1).

Let me share my own fears. I think that, when I fear exercising the charisms boldly, the root of the fear lies in the power of my own personal vanity: will that person really be healed? will they mock the prayer language bestowed by God? will they think I am crazy and ostracize me? Those are powerful, understandable, and pervasive human fears. They are not the fear of the Lord. In fact, the fear based on human vanity is an example of not fearing the Lord--of not giving due regard to His awesome power and to the fact that He is the only one whose opinion really and definitively counts, when all is said and done.

Too many who claim to be pious may have fallen implicitly and unconsciously into the heretical trap of metaphysical dualism--the belief that the world is an arena where the forces of good and the forces of evil struggle with roughly equal power. That implicit belief is heresy. The truth is that there is no dualism. There is the victorious Risen Lord who has defeated Satan. Satan can only claim victories if we unilaterally disarm ourselves and so stop building up the kingdom of God. The Catechism describes the heresy of a dualism that posits a parity of power between good and evil:

[O]thers have [wrongly] affirmed the existence of two eternal principles, Good and Evil, Light and Darkness, locked in permanent conflict (Dualism, Manichaeism).

Catechism 285 (my additions in brackets).

Ask yourself how much of what passes for ostensible "pious" talk is really a manifestation of heretical dualism or Manichaeism. Yet, there is indeed a struggle between good and evil. We are being attacked. Charismatics will speak often of the spiritual warfare and attacks that they experience. What are our defenses? The sacraments, prayer, fellowship with other Christians, more surrender to Jesus. As the Bible says, perfect love casts out fear (1 John 4:18)--not our self-generated love, which is never perfect, but the love poured into us by the Holy Spirit (Romans 5:5). With that continuing openness to the perfect love of the Holy Spirit, we can seek the charisms and stop the unilateral disarmament in spiritual warfare.

Note: The key idea behind this post was inspired by an observation made in conversation by a Catholic priest.

Part IV: Time for God

This post is the fourth discussing the very insightful book Time for God: A Guide to Mental Prayer by retreat master Fr. Jacques Philippe (the prior installments can be found under the label "Fr. Philippe" in the blog side margin to the right).

Let's continue with Fr. Philippe's insights on the life of prayer, the life that offers us the lasting happiness we have been seeking all our lives.

1. The good news is that the deepest life of prayer is marked by simplicity:

But to reach that simplicity, it takes much time and the operation of grace at a deep level. Sin has made us so complicated and so thoroughly dissipated our faculties. . . . [P]rayer becomes more simple the further we progress in the spiritual life.

Fr. Philippe, p. 57.

2. Explore the humanity of Jesus:

By exploring his humanity like a piece of land that belongs to us, going through it like a book written especially for us, making it our own in faith and love, we grow steadily in communion with the inaccessible, unfathomable mystery of God. . . . Bérulle [French cardinal who lived from 1575 to 1629] beautifully expresses the extent to which the mysteries of Jesus' life, though in the past, remain living and life-giving realities for those who contemplate them in faith. . . . [so that we] "treat the things and mysteries pertaining to Jesus not as things which are past and dead, but as things living and present, from which we too have to harvest fruits which are present and eternal" (pp. 59-60).

The Gospels are that book "written especially for us."

3. Although I myself am very happy and delighted to be an intellectual, "intellectualism" per se is not the path to the fount of life:

Intellectual speculation is not what enables us to gaze upon Jesus' humanity in such a way that we enter through it into real communion with the unfathomable mystery of God. This comes about through faith--faith as a theological virtue, faith enlivened by love. This faith alone (St. John of the Cross laid special stress on the point) empowers us to enter into the mystery of God through the person of Christ (pp. 60-61).

That's why those who distort Aquinas with their excessive, dry intellectualism are doing that great saint and mystic a great and misleading disservice.

4. Here, again, the author highlights the importance of a particular point:

[F]or a Christian the privileged way of doing mental prayer is by communing with the humanity of Jesus, by whatever means or methods (p. 61; emphasis added).

Note that Fr. Philippe says "by whatever means or methods": he eschews wedding us to one particular technique. Prayer is not engineering.

5. Fr. Philippe quotes Teresa of Ávila in this regard (other saints have said the same thing; I specifically recall both Ignatius Loyola and Josemaría Escrivá; it is interesting that all three are Spaniards--but that's a topic for another occasion; yes, I know that Loyola was Basque; but he was also a Spaniard):

We can picture ourselves standing in front of Christ, and arouse in ourselves the liveliest sentiments of love for his Sacred Humanity; live in his presence, talk to him, ask him for the things we need, tell him about the things that are making us suffer, share our joys with him instead of letting them drive him from our thoughts; without looking for well-turned phrases in our prayers, but finding the words that express our desires and needs.

Teresa of Ávila, quoted at p. 61.

I have not reached that point. I admit that the prospect is a little intimidating because I fear losing control and letting Jesus live more in me. But we all need to go there in spite of our fears.

The Free Rider Problem and the Charisms

Last Saturday's post mentioned what economists call the free rider "problem." We all can intuitively guess what the problem is: someone benefits from the efforts of others without making a similar effort. I pointed out that secularists are classic examples of free riders who benefit from the way Christian influences have enriched and continue to enrich our Western society while at the same time rejecting Christianity itself. The end result is that eventually the reserves of the good, the true, and the beautiful given to us by the Christian faith begin to run out and are not replenished. Western society thus enters a slow-motion decline into increasing barbarism as seen in our contempt for human life and human sexuality.

The same free rider analogy applies to those Catholics and other Christians who reject the continuing reality of the charisms, including the more amazing charisms such as prophecy, miracles, healings, and tongues. I like to say that Catholics who reject such charisms are like people who love to get the golden egg but end up killing the goose who laid the golden egg. The charisms recorded in the Acts of the Apostle laid the foundation for the Catholic Church we now have. The charisms still produce today, so to speak, the golden egg: more conversions, more evangelization, more vocations of all kinds, more active laity, invigorated parishes, healings, inspired music focused on praise of God using texts from the Word of God and from the Church fathers, more reverent liturgies, more belief in the Real Presence, among other "golden eggs." Yet, the goose that lays these golden eggs is feared, disdained, patronized, mocked, and even slandered by not a few confused, sometimes cynical (and sometimes even malicious) Catholics. The highly serious and grave Gospel warning against blasphemy toward the works of the Holy Spirit seems to have slipped past the radar of many of the more egregious haters of the goose that lays the golden eggs. (Now, you can certainly get some of these eggs without accepting the full range of the charisms. Yet, my own view and experience is that without accepting the full range of the charisms, the eggs that you do get don't approach the power, the "more," made possible by accepting all of the God-revealed charisms. In other words, these eggs are not nearly as golden as they can be and ought to be in God's biblical blueprint for the life of the Church. That's why the vigor and joy of the Church in the Acts of the Apostles seems so distant to many Catholics in the West.)

Here again is the classic free rider problem: we want the benefits, the golden eggs; but we don't want to cultivate the goose, the full range of charisms, that produces the golden eggs. What is the end result? Just as a secular society that seeks to kill off Christianity slides into barbarism, so Christians who seek to suffocate and quench the full range of charisms end up sliding, eventually, into either a liberal, counterfeit, faux Christianity or into a hyperlegalistic, Pharisaical distortion of Christianity marked by anger and frustration behind higher and higher isolating ramparts. Or, by amiably ignoring the full range of the charisms, we simply end up suspended somewhere in between, unable to reach our Spirit-empowered potential. The free rider option is a dead end, a blind alley, whether the target of its disengagement is Christianity itself or the full range of charisms revealed by Scripture to be the means of keeping Christianity alive and vibrant in a world that can easily choke us with its cares and distractions.

Free Riders & Empty Niches

I recently visited the great University of Chicago which is famous for its high concentration of Nobel laureates. I highly recommend visiting the famed Oriental Institute with artifacts from the biblical lands of the Near East and also the nearby Seminary Coop Bookstore which has an overwhelmingly impressive collection of books--it's like walking through a first-rate, tanglible bibliography in theology and biblical studies. I stopped at the Rockefeller Memorial Chapel on campus which is a fine, massive Gothic structure. In the vestibule, you will find the mandate of the chapel and of the university as envisioned by John D. Rockefeller, the founder of the University of Chicago and a Baptist. For the founder, religion and the religious spirit would be the center of the campus permeating every part of it. The explicit religious rhetoric does not match the secular reality--that holds true for many institutions, including some Catholic colleges, where the founding vision has succumbed to an unquestioned secularism. As I walked out, I admired the exterior architecture in its gothic grandeur. I also noticed that the many niches on the exterior were empty--they were waiting for statues, statues of prophets and saints, statues that will never show up to fill those empty gothic spaces. We want the benefits of religion while exiling it from the center. We end up as "free riders," as the economists like to say (Chicago is a great place to think of economics since it was for decades the home of the late Milton Friedman who was a leading figure in the Chicago School of Economics ). The problem is that free riders consume without replenishing the reserves of social and ethical capital provided by religion. The free ride becomes increasingly bumpy and eventually runs out of steam. In many ways, when we look around and see the vast confusion about the value of life and about sexuality, the free ride has already ended in very crucial areas of human flourishing.

Update: Read this media link to learn about a Catholic institute called the Lumen Christi Institute which brings Catholic intellectuals to speak on religious topics at the University of Chicago and thus attempts to compensate for the "empty niches" and attempts to get the University to live up, ironically, to the original intellectual vision of Chicago's famously wealthy Baptist founder. The Lumen Christi Institute website is at this link.

Duquesne 1967

At Pittsb