‘RELIGION IS JUST A CRUTCH…’

It’s not uncommon for someone objecting to their partner going to church or attending Mass or say that those who do so are looking for a ‘crutch’ or that religion is a way of avoiding relationships.  It can be very painful to hear that said and can cause real difficulties for anyone who wants to grow in their faith and begins to sense that, to do so, they need the company of others. 

Like the Judaism from which it emerged, Christianity isn’t a solitary religion.  As with many other animals we’re designed to be relational beings – we live in societies; grow through relationships and discover who we are as we encounter others.  But like other religions Christianity goes further, it points out that in order to be fully human we need to be in relationship with something greater than ourselves – with God.  Our need to ‘go to church’ is an aspect of the realisation that, in order to grow, we desire to be with others as they seek God – is that a ‘crutch’?  If it is, then it’s one most of us need, for in order to be myself I need to be in relationship with you, or as one philosopher maintained ¹ – every ‘I’ needs a ‘Thou’ in order to find meaning.  We need to be in ever-deepening relationship.

Some use the church, the People of God, as a means of developing those meaningful relationships when, for good reasons, no other way seems possible and Christians are found to be welcoming, accepting and inclusive.  Sadly, a few look to certain churches to support their prejudices.  Some partners might feel ‘church’ is a threat to their relationship and there are, indeed, those who become too involved and distant from their partner.  But in a similar way, friendships, even hobbies, can either be nurturing of a relationship – we enjoy the company of friends and need to have our own independently of partners – or they can become an escape. 

I need a crutch

I don’t mind admitting that I need a crutch.  I know I’m broken, not whole – are any of us?  I know I need people to help me become the person I’m meant to be; need people who love me, people who will encourage and enable me to grow.   In so many ways life wounds all of us and we need those who will help us heal and become whole.  No one is perfect.  Many are prepared to accept that they are enslaved and need a rescuer – a saviour, a Power greater than themselves to whom they can turn for help in this matter of becoming whole and growing into the fullness of our potential.  Christianity says that we have a godly identity that needs nurturing so we can grow beyond the limits of the self.

In all this the individual seeker, wanting to grow in their faith, beginning to sense that they need to do so in company with others, will need to be sensitive to the feelings of their partner, making sure that they are giving enough ‘quality time’ to them.  For growth in relationship with the God we have not seen is tested by our relationship with those amongst whom we live (1 John 4.20f). 

Growing beyond the church

But this need to be part of the church is only one step along the way and we are not to get stuck.  The point of ‘church’ is not, in the end, to provide friends but to belong to a community of those on a journey into God.  The journey we’re called to make can be hard to undertake alone and we can cease exploring and settle down into a comfortable place and take the eye of our heart off the goal.  ‘Church’ is where we gather to encounter the mystery of God, the Body of Christ on earth – and in heaven.  To be baptised into that Body is to be one with saints and angels ‘standing around the throne of God’. 

Perhaps we might give attention to going to Mass rather than ‘going to church’ – going to that celebration in which we seek to be open to the activity of God in word, sacrament and through the body of believers both seen and unseen.  As with the first Christians, we’re called into relationship with God in Christ through attending the Eucharist – and then living out of that relationship and seeking to deepen it through our personal daily prayer, acts of loving kindness, listening to God’s constant call that our heart might reflect His – and deepening our love for those to whom we are committed.

Imprisoned but not alone

There will always be those who, for whatever reason, cannot ‘go to church’.  The housebound through sickness or age; those unable to feel they can ‘belong’; those denied the opportunity because of their circumstances or because they are forbidden.  And there will be those imprisoned.  Back in the 16^th century the great Carmelite mystic, S. John of the Cross ², was cast into a tiny prison cell by his brothers because they objected to the reforms he wanted to make to their Order.  He spent eight months in appalling conditions, yet this was the means for him to compose some of the greatest mystical poetry.  Instead of making him bitter and angry the very privations he experienced were the means for him to escape by way of love.  Drawing on the biblical Song of Songs his heart sang in the darkness as he sought the One he loved:

                          Upon a gloomy night,

                                    With all my cares to loving ardours flushed,

                                    (O venture of delight!)

                                    With nobody in sight

                                    I went abroad when all my house was hushed. ³

Even when denied the company of others, he found a way of reading the Divine Office and, in the darkness, meditating on the love of God so that his heart was open to the movement of the Spirit and he was united with his beloved.  Today we have Apps to help us! ⁴

We must pray for our partners, that they will also be open to God; show that our faith is deepening our love for them, and be prepared to explain that ‘going to church’ helps us develop our desire to be more fully human – more fully the person I am meant to be – and then pray that our hearts might be open to that Love which gives life to the world.

_________________________________________

¹  “That you need God more than anything, you know at all times in your heart. But don’t you know also that God needs you—in the fullness of his eternity, you? How would man exist if God did not need him, and how would you exist? You need God in order to be, and God needs you—for that which is the meaning of your life.”  (Martin Buber, I and Thou, Simon and Schustner, 2000)

²  A sketch of Christ, made by St John of the Cross, was shown to Salvador Dali in 1949 moving him to paint his great work Christ of St John of the Cross.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rfN67C9XLCM

³    Roy Campbell, Poems of St John of the Cross, The Harvill Press Ltd., 1951

⁴ Pray as You Go; https://pray-as-you-go.org/; Laudate, Prayers, Daily Readings and Various Devotions: https://itunes.apple.com/us/app/laudate-1-catholic-app/id499428207?mt=8

THE SCENT OF HIDDEN SPRINGS – Some Thoughts About Roots and Flourishing (Introduction)

THE SCENT OF HIDDEN SPRINGS
– Some Thoughts About Roots and Flourishing

_______________________

INTRODUCTION

“What’s it all about, Alfie?”

So sang Dionne Warwick in a famous song, which became a major hit for Cilla Black, by Burt Bacharach way back in 1966.  It was written for the film of the same name – Alfie – and she went on to ruminate about life, what was all about? A moment’s pleasure? Making more than you give? And then asked if it’s it foolish to be kind, wise to be cruel? Does life only belong to the strong? The turning point came when she admitted that she believed there was a heaven above, that there’s much more to life and that even non-believers can believe in love. In one poignant line she sang:

‘Without true love we just exist, Alfie. Until you find the love you've missed you're nothing, Alfie.’

            The song may have been written over fifty years ago but the question remains: what’s it all about? It’s the kind of question that we’re suddenly faced with at times of crisis. Teenagers, when they hit upon that existential phase, often stumble upon it. Lovers wonder at it. As we gaze on nature we find it can ask us – what meaning does life have …? Is it really all summed up as ‘eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow you die’?

            This book isn’t meant to be a deeply philosophical tome but a reflection – a meditation, an exploration – into some of the fundamental questions about life and death each of us can find ourselves facing. It’s come about because of the way many of these questions were dealt with in the past is no longer accessible to a generation cut off from its ancient roots, people who have lost interest in religion. Many of these fundamental questions of our being touch on the religious dimension of life and yet, equally, many of us have no time for religion. Of course there are some who will say “I’m spiritual, not religious” but the Christian faith doesn’t seem to have much appeal to the young. And no wonder when, so often, what is reported is the way Christians have abused others, exercised power for their own ends, denied people their sexual rights or refused to accept minorities. Christianity has become seen as homophobic, narrow-minded and bigoted offering simplistic answers to deep and complicated questions. Yet people of other faiths don’t seem ashamed to admit they’re Muslim or Hindu and are able to access the wisdom of their religions and young people aren’t afraid to claim that they are followers of Mohammed or devotees of Shiva, Krishna or Lakshmi. So this book will try to re-connect us with some of the roots of that faith which nurtured and nourished our society for two thousand years yet no longer seems relevant (what an over-used word!) to many. We’re detached from faith – or semi-detached at best – but the house in which we live has unsearched basements and cellars containing vast hordes of wisdom for us to explore. We’ve hidden springs for refreshment, caves containing treasures yet the doorway to these has often been forgotten, is covered in cobwebs or is ignored – “we don’t want to go there, what’s the point?” But if we lose touch with our roots we’re in danger of becoming de-stabilised, a shallow generation that is satisfied by superficialities.

In depth living

            One of the things I do is to sit and listen to people try to make sense of God in their life and explore all the movements that happen within them as they try to give attention to God – it’s called ‘spiritual direction’ and if you want to know more then there’s some notes at the back. Many of the issues that people want to explore and many which seem to be around in society, both sacred but mainly secular, concern matters that the great Traditions of Christianity, for want of a better term, have always addressed. Just because someone may have jettisoned religion, faith, God etc. the questions don't go away. Getting rid of God means we’ve blocked off a source of wisdom and insight and ignoring the Christianity might mean we don’t have to bother with it but it also means that we’ve lost the ability to access that ‘wisdom of the ages’ which has helped people to live and not just survive.  As someone wrote to me:

            ‘As you know I am one of your acquaintances who does not have a faith, is not a believer. Neither am I an intellectual in anyway shape or form. However, I do question where our humanity has gone, I love the wisdom of the ages from those spiritual leaders, be it religious or pagan. I think the past has so much to             teach us; so much in this modern age is being forgotten. Everything is so shallow and meaningless.’

So this book sets out to look at matters such as what it means to be human and why we’re here, why doesn’t God go away, what gives meaning and purpose to life, why we resonate with ‘spiritual’ things, why people suffer, how we can become more beautiful and, perhaps most poignant of all, aging and death. And throughout I’ll try to look at what the ‘wisdom of the ages’ might have to offer us for religion, down the ages, has looked at all these matters, and more, and tried to make sense of them. At its best religion doesn’t attempt to provide answers but to shine a light on the path that leads into the heart of our being where we can discover the truth of who we are and how we connect – and realise ourselves, with our unique wonder, as part of a vast whole which finds itself embraced in a mystery. You know, religion doesn’t just offer rules (and, when it does, they’re meant to be for human flourishing – like ‘do not murder’, ‘love your enemies’ ‘don’t put your trust in money’ etc.) but it offers wisdom that needs our attention, insights that require us to extract the gold that lies within and practices designed to help us be more fully human. Of course, there will always be times when we need to use our reasoning faculties to critique what has been passed down especially as advances in science occur.

            Now that many of us have not been brought up with the language and rhythms of faith we’ll find that some practices of prayer and worship may not seem natural but we need to be open to the potential they have to help us reach beyond the heights and depths of life. Sometimes, of course, these have an instant appeal (or not) but, at their best, worship invites us into another world of encounter. Perhaps you’ve walked into a cathedral or shrine and just had that sense of ‘otherness’ which has made you stop and sit down for a moment and relish the silence (hopefully the place hasn’t been too noisy) and savour the smells of old stone, incense and candle wax. Perhaps, for a moment, you’ve had a sneaking feeling that there’s another dimension to life. You may think you’d given up on worship – hymn singing etc. – but we will always have a propensity to worship something greater than ourselves and that can open us to immense possibilities some of which, unfortunately, can be quite dangerous. Perhaps holy places should have a sign at their entrance saying: ‘Danger, God at work’.  There’s a wonderful story of a French priest, St Jean-Marie Vianney, who often found an old farmer sitting in church gazing at the altar on which was a beautiful tabernacle (a sort of box) containing the presence of Christ under the form of bread. And when, in the end, St Jean-Marie asked what he was doing there the old farmer simply said: “I look at Him and He looks at me and we tells each other that we love each other.” I must admit that when I first heard that story it reduced me to tears. It can still do that.

            So it’s sad that many have simply given up on sacred religion (… they might not realise how secular religion – capitalism, communism or nationalism has its teeth in them) and simply live on the surface of life, content to be carried by whatever currents we encounter or unaware of anything deeper than the glints and flashes reflected from what the eye can see. But there’s always the distant rumble of something greater, the feeling that we may have had the experience but missed the meaning. And when something shocking happens, something that jolts us out of our easy living, where do we turn to find the resources we need to cope?

Has religious faith any appeal?

            Now it goes without saying that Christianity, like any religion, isn’t exempt from corruption, misuse or a fundamentalist interpretation. Something which offers a way of life which can unite us with that which is most noble and creative in our humanity can be, and has been, abused and used as a means of control over others. Yet its transcendental appeal remains and it still tugs at the hearts of many, in-spite of a chorus of cynical disapproval. It’s certainly not cool to be a Christian, or even to talk about Jesus, God, the Saints, prayer (spirituality is OK), worship and so on. But Christianity has rarely been popular; as G. K. Chesterton wrote: ‘The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting. It has been found difficult; and left untried.’ (‘What’s Wrong with the World’, Part I, Chapter 5) Yet the heroic lives of saintly men and women continue to have an appeal; they are like beacons shining in the dark. Of course, sportsman and women and ‘celebrities’ can have an instant and greater glow about them but, have you noticed that their appeal is often passing? The appeal of true holiness, that which takes us out of ourselves so that we are living in the light of the Other, lasts and we can continue to savour it long after a holy one has disappeared from this earth.

Religion re-invented    

            What I find so fascinating is the way that so much of our religious past hasn’t actually disappeared but has been taken over – Advent calendars now offer us chocolates rather than insights into waiting for the birth of the man who can lead us to life in all its fullness; All Saints now offers fashionable clothes rather than being men and women clothed in holiness; Halloween isn’t a way of lovingly remembering the dead but a chance to go a bit mad. Incense is now a costly perfume to enhance our bodies rather than a mystical aroma which announces the presence of holiness, of God; and the ability to make your Confession is now rewarded with a TV fee rather than the ability to find absolution. And we’ve drained the great mysteries of the Faith – the birth of Christ and his death and resurrection – into times of excess governed by the gods of commerce, holding out nothing more than a plastic Santa or chocolate bunny. Can these satisfy our real needs, our deepest needs? Or are they part of a culture which has to make us feel we need ever more and more to make us happy and find … contentment … but is basically about making a profit for shareholders? Yet all the while, dimly maybe, behind it all and almost masked by the deafening clamour of commerce and entertainment can you hear that quiet voice asking: ‘What do you seek? What do you seek?’

           

What do we seek – what’s it all about?

            Have you ever thought of that?  Isn’t it such an important question and doesn’t it often get ignored – what do I seek in life? It’s another way of wondering ‘what’s it all about’? Does my life have any meaning or purpose or am I just a creature of evolution waiting to disappear off the face of the earth to be forgotten in a generation or so (if that)? Those aren’t the sort of questions that often get aired on TV or discussed in the pages of the tabloids (or, come to that, the broadsheets) but aren’t they important questions to ponder? But where do I go to explore them? And do I want to?

‘The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honourable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well.’ (Ralph Waldo Emerson)

           

            It has been the task of religion to help us do that, to open us to those questions and explore the meaning and purpose of life. For some, that purpose is to be happy; no one, normally, wants to be un-happy. For others it might be to live with a close and loving family or find a satisfying career (which is OK until that comes to an end. Then what?) But, and here is the question again, is that all I seek? There's a famous affirmation by someone called St Augustine, who was born in what is now Algeria, north Africa in the 4th century AD which somehow seems to get at the nub of all this: “You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in you.”

            Now as a general principle Christianity holds that we are made in the ‘image’ of God. In saying that it doesn’t mean that we’re all designed to look like an old man with a white beard but rather that we have about us, in the deepest part of our being, the potential for greatness, beauty and wonder. Of holiness. Just consider that for a moment. Close your eyes and, in a minute of silence, consider “I am made in the image of God – the image of divine beauty which is so much deeper than the eye can see. I have the potential to be – Godlike.”  Just be quiet and mull over that.

I am made for love and creativity;
I am part of the whole cosmos in which I have always existed.
I have something inside me that unites me with the past and present and future. I am part of – God.

           

Now it’s the task of religion to help each of us grow into this fullness of life but somethings got in the way and managed to palm us off with thinking all we need is a better car, bigger house or a win on the Lottery. That a make-over will, somehow, answer our needs. Tosh! Unless we’re re-making the heart of who we are anything else is like playing with the deckchairs on the Titanic.

"Love is a one-way street.  It always moves away from self in the direction of the other.  Love is the ultimate gift of our-selves to others.  When we stop giving we stop loving, when we stop loving we stop growing, and unless we grow we will never attain personal fulfilment; we will never open out to receive the life of God.  It is through love we encounter God.”  (Blessed Teresa of Calcutta, Where there is Love, there is God, p. 26)

 Do I realise that I am made for love and to be love for others? As one of Jesus’ closest friends said: ‘let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love.’ (I John 4.7) So, might love be the way whereby sacred and secular are joined? Might it be that it is as we learn more about love that we are drawn out of ourselves to encounter the mystery of the other – and of the Other (the greatest Other)? Well, there’s nothing new in that reflection: "We become what we love and who we love shapes what we become” declared St Clare of Assisi way back in the 13th century, “If we love things, we become a thing. If we love nothing, we become nothing. Imitation is not a literal mimicking of Christ, rather it means becoming the image of the beloved, an image disclosed through transformation. This means we are to become vessels of God´s compassionate love for others." And St Thomas à Kempis, who lived just over a hundred years later, wrote in his famous book ‘The Imitation of Christ’: ‘Nothing is sweeter than love, nothing stronger or higher or wider; nothing is more pleasant, nothing fuller, and nothing better in heaven or on earth, for love is born of God and cannot rest except in God, Who is above all created things.’  So we come to the point, I hope, where believer and unbeliever have arrived at common ground and can agree with what that remarkable woman Julian of Norwich, the first of her gender to write in the English language, said in her book, ‘Revelations of Divine Love’: ‘Understand (this) well: love was his meaning. Who showed it to you? Love. What did he show you? Love. Why did he show it? For love. Hold yourself in this truth and you shall understand and know more in the same vein.’ (Ch.86)

SCIENCE vs. RELIGION?

A man walked into church after Mass today and, on being asked if he might return, declared himself an atheist and only believed in empirical evidence. My response was a bit fumbled (‘could have done better’) and, on reflection, I realised how shallow was his statement.

We believe in so much you can’t ‘prove’ – love, joy, happiness - we believe liars and those who offer the promise of riches, in political dogmas and promises. Yet some people say they cannot believe in God – in the notion that there might be One who invites us to live up to what we have the potential to be; One who invites us to believe that we have the potential to be ‘God-like’; One who offers a way that sets self aside for the sake of the other. One who invites us open ourselves to encounter beauty, wonder, mystery. Doesn’t science also believed in those things?

‘All religions, arts and sciences are branches of the same tree. All these aspirations are directed toward ennobling man’s life, lifting it from the sphere of mere physical existence and leading the individual towards freedom.’ 

— Albert Einstein

‘Scientists [still] refuse to consider man as an object of scientific scrutiny except through his body. The time has come to realise that an interpretation of the universe—even a positivist one—remains unsatisfying unless it covers the interior as well as the exterior of things; mind as well as matter. The true physics is that which will, one day, achieve the inclusion of man in his wholeness in a coherent picture of the world. ‘

— Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

‘I find it quite improbable that such order came out of chaos. There has to be some organizing principle. God to me is a mystery but is the explanation for the miracle of existence, why there is something instead of nothing. ‘

Alan Sandage (winner of the Crawford prize in astronomy)

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YOU HAVE HEARD IT SAID, ‘AN EYE FOR AN EYE AND A TOOTH FOR A TOOTH…’

Like most people I have found the atrocities which occurred in Paris this week utterly shocking.  As I listened with growing horror and a sense of disbelief to the unfolding stories of brutality and murder carried out in the name of Allah for the defence of the name of Mohammad I first found myself revolted and stunned.  Then I noticed a welling up of anger and a desire that those who perpetrated the crimes should be made to realise the pain and suffering they had caused.  And, as I continued to become aware of my feelings I also had to accept that I wanted to blame Islam for giving sustenance to the belief that such violence is permissible to defend a religion.  Gradually I realised a feeling that Islam must be a cruel and repressive religion and that we need to ban it from our shores.  And I heard other voices saying the same. 

Yet I sensed that such ’voices’ were leading me into treacherous places and that, whilst I needed to acknowledge they existed, to give attention to them put me in danger of opening myself to the very demons – malevolent forces – which animated the killers.  I can’t pretend that they don’t exist: that I am not susceptible to prejudice, anger, rage, violence and a desire for revenge.  After all, I am ‘only human’.  I may have a brain that’s been civilised over millennia but part of it is primal – ‘reptilian’ – and is the repository of those primitive desires commonly referred to as ‘fear’, fight’ and ’flight’.  I can pretend otherwise but that would leave me at their mercy.  ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth’ is a dictum almost as old as humanity because it appeals to our primitive nature.

The I noticed the way that blame for this is not just levied at Islam but all religion which many see as an inhuman force.  Get rid of religion and the world would live in peace, as John Lennon sang.  But I doubt that’s the case for hatred lies deep in the human heart and is not the preserve of religion.  I sense that those who carried out such barbarous acts would still have had hatred in their hearts even if they weren’t driven by religious feelings.  In fact I would argue that religion exists in order to address this very matter.  Knowing that I am capable of good and evil, how do I embrace the one and avoid the other?  That’s the role of religion.  So Jesus recognised that age-old desire for vengeance and said: ‘But I say to you … love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you so that you may be children of your Father in heaven.’  (Mt.5:38;44)  And if we are, individually, susceptible to life-denying forces then that is equally true of societies and cultures and the role of religion concerns the way humanity is called to acknowledge its deepest urges – both for good and evil.  It’s easy to ignore the fact that for every sinner there is a saint whose light, born of faith, enlightens us.  I noticed these words of the Islamic Sufi saint, Rumi:

For those in love,
                        Moslem, Christian, and Jew do not exist....
            Why listen to those who see it another way? -
                        if they're not in love--their eyes do not exist.

And for every Islamic Rumi there’s a St. John of the Cross or a St. Teresa of Avila; a Desmond Tutu or a Dorothy Day.  But the light the saint’s offer can be ignored and I know that the tragedy of the violence that lies within me is the way it can blind me to anything else.  But I also know that the glory of the spirit is the way it can lead me out of blindness into light and raise me above my-self. 

One of the tasks of religion is to bring into the open the forces that drive the human spirit and to offer ways in which they can be used for the greater good.  When S. Francis met the muslim Sultan of Egypt, al-Malik-al-Kamil, it is said that he experienced a ‘conversion into a new horizon’ that enabled him to arrive at a vision of universal peace and reconciliation (Dr. Paul Rout OFM).  But I am bombarded with too many voices and I realise the power that all the media has to convey – consciously or unconsciously – its message, and the power of messages rooted in fear to connect with our primal instincts.  I know that it is easy to project onto the other   But I know that I need to listen to those voices which call me to love the other.  As S. Francis wrote: ‘Let us pay attention to what the Lord says: Love your enemies and do good to those who hate you, for our Lord Jesus Christ, whose footprints we must follow called his betrayer ‘friend’ and gave himself willingly to those who crucified him.’ (Francis of Assisi “The Earlier Rule” Chapter XXII 1-4)

I am called to cultivate those practices which lead to life – for example in Christian terms, the way of the Beatitudes – and to own and acknowledge that my heart is not always set upon them.  Religion calls that repentance.   If I don’t own all that for myself and find a way of dealing with it, then I am truly blind.  William Blake put it well when he wrote:

I was angry with my friend; 

I told my wrath, my wrath did end.

I was angry with my foe: 

I told it not, my wrath did grow. 

And I waterd it in fears,

Night & morning with my tears: 

And I sunned it with smiles,

And with soft deceitful wiles. 

And it grew both day and night. 

Till it bore an apple bright. 

And my foe beheld it shine,

And he knew that it was mine. 

And into my garden stole, 

When the night had veild the pole; 

In the morning glad I see; 

My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

(A Poison Tree)

31st SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME

“Be silent, still, aware,
for there, within your heart,
the Spirit is at prayer.
Open and receive,
heart-wisdom.
Christ”

INTRODUCTION
There can be few people (especially readers of the Daily Mail) who are unaware, and probably have a view about, the fiasco that has enveloped the BBC this past week. The broadcast of Jonathan Ross and Russell Brand’s phone call, closely followed by the disgusting comments about the Queen on ‘Mock the Week’, has had enormous repercussions and raised serious issues about ‘taste and decency’ in the media. What are the boundaries that broadcasters should not cross? Just because a Radio 2 audience might be younger than those who listen to Radio 4, or those who listen to ‘Mock the Week’ are assumed to like outrageous content, does that mean broadcasters should pander to our least reputable instincts? Maybe. As one member of the public said when asked to comment, “I try to teach my children not to swear, to be respectful to others and so on, but my efforts are undermined by what they are exposed to by some of the programmes to which they listen.”

Our society is exposed to a vast range of communicators and I realise it is hard for many parents to know how they can nurture their children with decent values. Clearly, for some, the church provides one means to help support their efforts.

I mention all this because our readings today touch on questions of standards of behaviour for Christians as we seek to help create a civilised society. St. Paul, in his letter to Christians in the Thessalonica, reminds them that he has sought to live a ‘blameless’ life. Jesus, in a different context, satirizes the Pharisees and warns people not to look up to people who cannot be trusted, reminding them that the only person to look to – the only ‘father’ who matters – is our Father in heaven.

Now I always blush with a sense of embarrassment when I hear Jesus’ words: You must call no one on earth father. OK. In Jesus’ time no one did call clergy Father. Called them Rabbi, or Teacher. So does that mean we can’t call anyone ‘father’, or ‘dad’. And what about ‘Mother’?

Why did Jesus make such a sweeping statement?

One way to approach a particular passage of scripture is by asking ourselves two questions.
Firstly, “What’s going on here?” That would mean delving a little deeper. And, secondly, “What does this mean for us?” What’s the good news for us? So, firstly, what’s going on here?

Once again, Jesus expresses his anger at the Pharisees, that group of pious Jews who put great emphasis on traditional beliefs and practices. But they also sought to make the love of God and love of neighbor the chief commandments. However, many Pharisees of Jesus’ time went further and sought to make their way of life even more distinctive. The Pharisees whom Jesus satirizes attempted to keep themselves in a state of purity at all times. They were scrupulous in their behavior and took great care not to come in contact with any source of defilement.

In today’s gospel lesson, Jesus is not criticizing those who try faithfully to keep the Law. He is speaking about those who forget what really mattered in the Law – not just keeping the rules but loving God and neighbor by seeking to exercise justice and mercy and faithfulness. And he is speaking to those who work hard at keeping the letter of the law while forgetting about the spirit of the law. Jesus criticizes the Pharisees because they don’t practice what they preach; and, in so doing, Jesus, and others like him, reminds us all of the need to practice what we preach. So, the next question is ‘What does this mean for us?’

Well, it’s a challenge to rethink our primary relationship. Yet again he is pressing home the need all human beings have of getting their relationship with God right so that all other relationships will flow from that.

THE SPIRITUALITY OF HOLINESS
In the wake of the controversy about standards in the BBC, we are also in the midst of the great season of the saints. Yesterday we celebrated All Saints and tomorrow we will commemorate the Holy Souls. These two great celebrations of all who rest and rejoice in the Love of God are annual reminders that we belong to another world as well as this one – to the world of God’s kingdom which we are invited to enter.

Yesterday at Mass I read out some words of the late, great Cistercian, Thomas Merton: ‘For me to be a saint means to be myself. The problem with sanctity is, in fact, the problem of finding out who I am and of discovering my true self.’

This is what it means to be a Christian. To want to discover my true identity. Are we not more than so-called comedy programmes reflect us as being? People whose humour is susceptible to mockery, jibe, insult and humiliation. If so, we have cause to be ashamed.

But religion reminds us that we were created to overcome our lower nature and discover the beauty of our true selves. As Merton went on to say: ‘God leaves us free to be whatever we like. … We may be true or false, the choice is ours. We may wear now one mask and now another, and never, if we so desire, appear with our true face. But we cannot make these choices with impunity. Causes have effects, and if we lie to ourselves and to others, then we cannot expect to find truth and reality whenever we happen to want them. If we have chosen the way of falsity we must not be surprised that truth eludes us when we finally come to need it!’

The Saints are those men and women – sometimes quite awkward and difficult people – who, realising the hollowness of their lives, seek to be real before God. They aren’t simpering, holier-than-thou people of no earthly use. They are women and men who have realised their ‘hollowness’ and want to let God be God in their lives. People who are not necessarily ‘good’ or ‘nice’ but people who, realising their earthiness and shallowness who want to be touched and filled by God.

As someone once said, ‘The test of Catholic Christianity is not whether it can make good men better, but whether it can make bad men holy.’

CONCLUSION
In coming to Mass and sharing in the celebration of these mysteries, we are invited to enter into the communion of saints who are constantly present to us as we seek to draw closer to the mystery of God. We may not always realise that this is the edge of the Mystery we call God, but it is a fact. And only he who sees, with the inner eye of the soul, will open his heart to be filled with the glory of this God-mystery. The Holy Gifts that are offered, the Bread of Christ’s Body and the Wine of His Blood, are offered to fill our open mouths and empty hearts with a taste of the glory that is ours for the asking. Our spiritual being needs nurturing and caring for, else it will lie dormant and be prone to the myriad influences that shape us but will never grow to the fullness for which we have the potential.

And it is the duty of your priests – your ‘Fathers’ and ‘Mothers’ in God – to encourage you to deepen your being-in-God.

These final days of the Christian Year, from All Saints to Advent, are full of reminders of this and present us with the opportunity of saying a deeper ‘yes’ to God. This House of Prayer is filled with his presence: there is nothing, now, to separate you from the love of God in Jesus Christ and His saints.

Amen

Theology, Reason and Imagination

I've been reading Michael Paul Gallagher's (*) Dive Deeper, which he sub-titles, 'The Human Poetry of Faith'. In Chapter 9 he quotes from Cardinal Newman's, Grammar of Ascent:

'The heart is commonly reached, not through reason, but through the imagination'.

As a young man, Newman had had a long dispute with his brother, Charles, who had become an atheist. In a letter to Charles, he wrote: "you never entered into the spirit of Christianity (you are) not in a "state of mind to listen to arguments (you are) suffering from a fault of the heart not the intellect."

Gallagher goes on to observe:

'The majority of people around us who have abandoned regular contact with the Church have not done so because of some intellectual argument against faith. They have drifted away because their imagination was left untouched and their hopes unawoken by their experience of Church. They leave less in anger than in disappointment with hollow words that claim to speak of the holy. The crisis is on the level of the 'mediation' between a tradition of faith and a new cultural sensibuility. The language of the churches seems stuck in an older mode and unable to speak imaginativcely to the desires of now. People need to feel themselves part of a larger Story. Like the parables of Jesus, what is needed are traps for depth, moments of human poetry that give voice to the language of desire."

(* Michael Paul Gallagher is Professor of Fundamental Theology at the Gregorian University in Rome. Dive Deeper pub. DLT 2001)