"I urge you, brothers and sisters, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ,
that all of you agree in what you say,
and that there be no divisions among you,
but that you be united in the same mind and in the same purpose.
For it has been reported to me about you, my brothers and sisters,
by Chloe’s people, that there are rivalries among you.
I mean that each of you is saying,
“I belong to Paul,” or “I belong to Apollos,”
or “I belong to Cephas,” or “I belong to Christ.”
Is Christ divided?
Was Paul crucified for you?
Or were you baptized in the name of Paul?
For Christ did not send me to baptize but to preach the gospel,
and not with the wisdom of human eloquence,
so that the cross of Christ might not be emptied of its meaning."
-1 Cor 1:10-13, 17
Paul asked the divided Corinthians: is Christ divided? This is a powerful question. Clearly the answer is no. But in the rhetorical question Paul implies something profound: We are the body of Christ. Since Christ is not divided, neither are we. We are all members –sure, the members are different from each other – the hand is different from the foot, and they are different from the mouth, but they all belong to one body of Christ. Our Church like the Corinthians is divided. We are different, which means we will have different opinions; and I think this difference is good, because God created each of us in a unique way. But the differences rooted in fear of the other and selfish interest leads to division. Pauline theology goes a step further: because we are one in Christ, unity is not an ideal or goal to be realized, but a reality that needs to be acknowledged, and recognized.
The more we recognize that we are in Christ, the less I hope, that division will be a problem, or better the more we will realize that there is no division, but unity, and all we need to do is live accordingly.
Only in Christ and Through Christ are we one. Christ is one, so we are one.
The question is: How can we recognize that we are already one, when division seems so real?
I do not know. But there are things that I believe can help. One of these things we can learn from a quote I found by Michael Jordan. He said some interesting things about fear that perhaps we can apply to division:
“I know fear is an obstacle for some people, but it’s an illusion for me… Any fear is an illusion. You think something is standing in your way, but nothing is really there. What is there is an opportunity to do your best and gain some success.”
We learn from Jordan that Fear is an illusion. He does not deny the experience of fear, but he says feel the fear, and act anyway. So perhaps it is the same with division. How can we possibly be one, especially when the experience of division among some groups within the church is so marked? Part of the answer may be: let us start acting as if we are one. This won’t take away differences, because differences will always be there, but the more we draw to Christ in whom we are already one, and the more we do so with people or groups with whom we feel divided, the more our differences (I hope) will be seen as gifts.
Carlos J. Medina, OSA
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
He is no forgetful listener
A Muslim story begins this way:
"There was once a King with a vast kingdom. He was a very great King, good, fair, just, merciful, loved deeply by all his subjects, by all the creatures in His kingdom.
His was not an ordinary kingdom. He ruled over all of nature, the mountains, streams, skies, and the wide earth whose strength supported all of these.
The King was loved deeply by all his subjects who knew well his continuous kindness and mercy.
One day the King called all of His subjects to come before Him. They all came willingly and from among their numbers each group chose a representative to stand before the King. The mountains chose the firmest and mightiest among them to go forward as their representative. The skies chose the strongest wind and in like manner each group sent forward their chosen representative.
The King said He had a task, a test, "a trust", a difficult undertaking, and He wanted to see who among His subjects would undertake this task.
The task was to journey through a faraway land known as the land of forgetfulness.
Anyone who entered this land forgot who they were, where they came from, even why they came to that land.
And even though that land was also part of the kingdom, the visible signs of the King were concealed and disguised in that land. Those who entered there became so forgetful and distracted that they forgot their beloved King and forgot that He had set them a task.
Only those who were able to look deep into their hearts would be able to remember their King and their task, because the forgetfulness was like a thick fog that clouded their minds.
And only those with a firm and deep love for the King would be able to journey safely through the midst of this land of forgetfulness.
The King asked the mighty mountains if they would accept but the mountains trembled and said they would accept any other task but this task was too difficult – how could they bear the separation.
The King asked the skies which enveloped the mountains and rose high above them, but the skies refused, sighing fearfully at the thought of such forgetfulness and what it might lead to.
Amidst all the creatures who refused this task, only one came forward. The other creatures turned…and looked at the human being. It was insignificant compared to the mountains, the sky, and the earth but on its face was the look of one who was consumed with a burning love for the King. I will undertake this task, he said."
I find myself in this story –as having said yes to the the king, and then once in the land of forgetfulness I often forget about the King and my promise to him.
The reading today from evening prayer (James 1,19-25), speaks of a different kind of person, of one who “is no forgetful listener, but one who carries out the law in practice. Blest will this man be.” How do I stop being a forgetful listener? I listen, get excited about the message, and over time forget it, and ends up sinning again.
This theme of the forgetful listener struck me in light of Mass readings from Revelations this week. On Monday we heard “I know your works, your labor, and your endurance… Yet I hold this against you: you have lost the love you had at first.”In other words, the past was good, but overtime the listener became a forgetful listener. And yesterday, we heard “Remember then how you accepted and heard; keep it, and repent.”
When I commit sins that sometime in the past I had figured out how to avoid, I experience a certain anger at myself for being forgetful. “I should have seen that coming! –I tell myself -I can’t believe I did that again! Once I realize I have been a forgetful listener I repent.
I remember reading in one of Augustine’s letters that when we stop striving to move toward the Lord, that we automatically begin to fall. In my experience, I can only continue moving forward if I remember the lessons of the past, so that I don’t trip into the same stone again. But the question for me is how do I remain watchful, and not allow the goodness of the Lord become something of the past which I forget? How can I continually bring into the present the lessons from the past?
The experience of pre-Exilic times in the old testament seems to be an experience of forgetfulness: the people of God experienced salvation, God made a covenant with them, they were not loyal to God in the covenant, in other words they sinned, which led to punishment, then they repented, and experienced salvation, and again forgot about the covenenant, and sinned, were punished, and repented, but forgot over time, and the cycle continued.
So the question for me becomes, how do I break from the cycle?
I have been learning about the way that oral cultures are able to maintain alive traditions by retelling stories. Each time the story is told, the past is brought into the present. The story tellers are gifted people who can look deeply into the present in order to retell the past, and in this way carry the cultural identity of the group into the future. Sometimes story tellers even embellish or situate the story into details of the present – biblical literature is full of this anachronisms, where the essence of the story is maintained but the details are a little off. The details are off for those who want to read the story as history, but for the audience, those details brought the story to the present.
So to answer the questions I asked myself: how do I remain watchful, and not allow the goodness of the Lord become something of the past which I forget? How can I continually bring into the present the lessons from the past?
Perhaps I need to retell myself the story of my vocation more often, and update it to my current situation. I’ve had to write a vocation story applying to the pre-novitiate, one during novitiate, and one for CTU. At the end of novitiate, I wrote a long reflection about my novitiate year, and why I wanted to profess vows. I am going to start to re-read these stories, and add details to them each time I read them, and in this way, bring into the present the lessons of the past. I hope that by bringing the past into the present by way of my personal story, I may be able to peer into freedom's ideal law through the fog of forgetfulness, and become less of a forgetful listener.
-Carlos J. Medina, OSA
"There was once a King with a vast kingdom. He was a very great King, good, fair, just, merciful, loved deeply by all his subjects, by all the creatures in His kingdom.
His was not an ordinary kingdom. He ruled over all of nature, the mountains, streams, skies, and the wide earth whose strength supported all of these.
The King was loved deeply by all his subjects who knew well his continuous kindness and mercy.
One day the King called all of His subjects to come before Him. They all came willingly and from among their numbers each group chose a representative to stand before the King. The mountains chose the firmest and mightiest among them to go forward as their representative. The skies chose the strongest wind and in like manner each group sent forward their chosen representative.
The King said He had a task, a test, "a trust", a difficult undertaking, and He wanted to see who among His subjects would undertake this task.
The task was to journey through a faraway land known as the land of forgetfulness.
Anyone who entered this land forgot who they were, where they came from, even why they came to that land.
And even though that land was also part of the kingdom, the visible signs of the King were concealed and disguised in that land. Those who entered there became so forgetful and distracted that they forgot their beloved King and forgot that He had set them a task.
Only those who were able to look deep into their hearts would be able to remember their King and their task, because the forgetfulness was like a thick fog that clouded their minds.
And only those with a firm and deep love for the King would be able to journey safely through the midst of this land of forgetfulness.
The King asked the mighty mountains if they would accept but the mountains trembled and said they would accept any other task but this task was too difficult – how could they bear the separation.
The King asked the skies which enveloped the mountains and rose high above them, but the skies refused, sighing fearfully at the thought of such forgetfulness and what it might lead to.
Amidst all the creatures who refused this task, only one came forward. The other creatures turned…and looked at the human being. It was insignificant compared to the mountains, the sky, and the earth but on its face was the look of one who was consumed with a burning love for the King. I will undertake this task, he said."
I find myself in this story –as having said yes to the the king, and then once in the land of forgetfulness I often forget about the King and my promise to him.
The reading today from evening prayer (James 1,19-25), speaks of a different kind of person, of one who “is no forgetful listener, but one who carries out the law in practice. Blest will this man be.” How do I stop being a forgetful listener? I listen, get excited about the message, and over time forget it, and ends up sinning again.
This theme of the forgetful listener struck me in light of Mass readings from Revelations this week. On Monday we heard “I know your works, your labor, and your endurance… Yet I hold this against you: you have lost the love you had at first.”In other words, the past was good, but overtime the listener became a forgetful listener. And yesterday, we heard “Remember then how you accepted and heard; keep it, and repent.”
When I commit sins that sometime in the past I had figured out how to avoid, I experience a certain anger at myself for being forgetful. “I should have seen that coming! –I tell myself -I can’t believe I did that again! Once I realize I have been a forgetful listener I repent.
I remember reading in one of Augustine’s letters that when we stop striving to move toward the Lord, that we automatically begin to fall. In my experience, I can only continue moving forward if I remember the lessons of the past, so that I don’t trip into the same stone again. But the question for me is how do I remain watchful, and not allow the goodness of the Lord become something of the past which I forget? How can I continually bring into the present the lessons from the past?
The experience of pre-Exilic times in the old testament seems to be an experience of forgetfulness: the people of God experienced salvation, God made a covenant with them, they were not loyal to God in the covenant, in other words they sinned, which led to punishment, then they repented, and experienced salvation, and again forgot about the covenenant, and sinned, were punished, and repented, but forgot over time, and the cycle continued.
So the question for me becomes, how do I break from the cycle?
I have been learning about the way that oral cultures are able to maintain alive traditions by retelling stories. Each time the story is told, the past is brought into the present. The story tellers are gifted people who can look deeply into the present in order to retell the past, and in this way carry the cultural identity of the group into the future. Sometimes story tellers even embellish or situate the story into details of the present – biblical literature is full of this anachronisms, where the essence of the story is maintained but the details are a little off. The details are off for those who want to read the story as history, but for the audience, those details brought the story to the present.
So to answer the questions I asked myself: how do I remain watchful, and not allow the goodness of the Lord become something of the past which I forget? How can I continually bring into the present the lessons from the past?
Perhaps I need to retell myself the story of my vocation more often, and update it to my current situation. I’ve had to write a vocation story applying to the pre-novitiate, one during novitiate, and one for CTU. At the end of novitiate, I wrote a long reflection about my novitiate year, and why I wanted to profess vows. I am going to start to re-read these stories, and add details to them each time I read them, and in this way, bring into the present the lessons of the past. I hope that by bringing the past into the present by way of my personal story, I may be able to peer into freedom's ideal law through the fog of forgetfulness, and become less of a forgetful listener.
-Carlos J. Medina, OSA
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Dialogue and Via Negativa
By Fr. Tomas Maltus, OSB Cam
Dialogue is communion among persons who accept their differences and seek unity in the truth. Interreligious dialogue recognizes religious differences within the context of this common search. Unity is seen as both a given and a goal, but on the way the differences have positive value too.
Why do I, a Christian monk, engage in dialogue? Because it is here, in dialogue, that I find truth. Although I find truth first of all in my own religion, I am not forbidden to seek truth and to find it in what other persons and other religions say. But at the same time, I know that truth cannot be found, nor can there be dialogue, in the mixing together or the melting down of all religions into one amorphous mass.
Truth is found in dialogue, because it is found in communion. Truth, by its very nature, demands to be communicated and shared with others, even though sometimes a particular truth can seem impossible to put into words. Only those who seek the truth find it. The discovery of truth is the fruit of dialogue among seekers. Truth is betrayed by thinking that it is some kind of private property I can acquire on my own and for myself alone. No one has a first mortgage on truth. Truth is also betrayed by claiming to possess it in such a way that there is no longer any need to seek it. “I do not believe, I know!” has been taken to be the affirmation of a wise man, and it may be a kind of wisdom. But true wisdom is expressed by saying, “I seek to know, therefore I believe.”
The source of truth, as I know it and seek it, is God, who is existentially a communion and an intercommunication. The religion of the Trinity, Christianity, is a religion of dialogue. The truth of Christianity, as I see it, lies in its capacity for dialogue and communication. If the doctrine of the Trinity means anything beyond the statement that God is one being in three persons, it must mean that Christians are called to be a people in dialogue, seeking truth in such a way that they no longer need to seek it; and saying this, they imply that they no longer need to believe. Only a person of deep convictions can engage in dialogue. Only if I am deeply convinced of what I believe can I remain unthreatened when I discover truth in what others believe.
What does this mean for me as a monk? Christian monasticism defines itself as God-seeking. The monastic call arises from within the attitude of faith and the desire to know, which means a state of unknowing. Perseverance in the monastic search means abiding in faith and unknowing. And there is a higher unknowing which is a fruit of the monastic search.
To the monastic way of unknowing corresponds a theology called “apophatic,” also called “negative theology” or the via negativa. Apophatic theology does more than just deny of God the imperfections of creatures. It says that there is a mystery in God which cannot be affirmed at all in human terms. There is a profound abyss of meaning in God which the human mind cannot sound out.
Negative theology is more than just a special kind of discourse or “God-talk.” Monks have always appreciated the saying of Evagrius Ponticus: “If you truly pray you are a theologian; if you are a true theologian, you pray.” Theology is prayer; it is experience. In terms of experience the via negativa is the sense of the “divine darkness.” God is dark not just because He is an excess of light or because He exceeds the capacity of our faculties. God is dark not just because He is an excess of light or because He exceeds the capacity of our faculties. God is dark because He exceeds being.
The “theologian” par excellence is the author of the fourth gospel. The summit of Johannine theology is the confession of Thomas in chapter 20: “My Lord and my God!” This is theology without grammar or syntax. It may be taken as a prayer, and it is certainly the outward expression of what we can call a mystical experience.
Because of our Western cultural prejudices about what is or is not theology, we always want to add a subject and/or a predicate to the exclamation of Thomas. We want to make him say: “You are . . ., ” “I believe. . ., ” “Now I understand. . .,” “. . . is here,” “. . . did this.” Not that these additions are meaningless; nor would I say that they betray the sense of John 20:28. But to elaborate on the text in this way means to withdraw from the immediacy of the experiential moment, when we know that God is not only above names and above knowing, but also above being.
In other words, I find a special quality in the experience of God, as narrated in monastic writings, that implies a certain understanding of what it means to know God or to know anything. This understanding corresponds closely with the one implied in apophatic theology. And so, in my search for truth and God, I take as my guide the axioms of the via negativa: “If God is, we are not; if we are, God is not; God is not only above knowing; He is also above essence.”
Apophatic theology, then, leads to silence before God and silence about God—you might call it “adoration theology.” As such, it is a condition for true dialogue and for, dialogue in the search for what is true. Dialogue among religious truth-seekers, and especially among monastics of different religions, begins with silence, and then perhaps words can be exchanged. In our search for unity in truth through dialogue, we can best approach and understand our religious differences by the way of unknowing and of silence. Only in this way, I believe, can the recognition of our differences become an integral part of the search and a necessary stage on the way to the goal of unity in truth.
Dialogue is communion among persons who accept their differences and seek unity in the truth. Interreligious dialogue recognizes religious differences within the context of this common search. Unity is seen as both a given and a goal, but on the way the differences have positive value too.
Why do I, a Christian monk, engage in dialogue? Because it is here, in dialogue, that I find truth. Although I find truth first of all in my own religion, I am not forbidden to seek truth and to find it in what other persons and other religions say. But at the same time, I know that truth cannot be found, nor can there be dialogue, in the mixing together or the melting down of all religions into one amorphous mass.
Truth is found in dialogue, because it is found in communion. Truth, by its very nature, demands to be communicated and shared with others, even though sometimes a particular truth can seem impossible to put into words. Only those who seek the truth find it. The discovery of truth is the fruit of dialogue among seekers. Truth is betrayed by thinking that it is some kind of private property I can acquire on my own and for myself alone. No one has a first mortgage on truth. Truth is also betrayed by claiming to possess it in such a way that there is no longer any need to seek it. “I do not believe, I know!” has been taken to be the affirmation of a wise man, and it may be a kind of wisdom. But true wisdom is expressed by saying, “I seek to know, therefore I believe.”
The source of truth, as I know it and seek it, is God, who is existentially a communion and an intercommunication. The religion of the Trinity, Christianity, is a religion of dialogue. The truth of Christianity, as I see it, lies in its capacity for dialogue and communication. If the doctrine of the Trinity means anything beyond the statement that God is one being in three persons, it must mean that Christians are called to be a people in dialogue, seeking truth in such a way that they no longer need to seek it; and saying this, they imply that they no longer need to believe. Only a person of deep convictions can engage in dialogue. Only if I am deeply convinced of what I believe can I remain unthreatened when I discover truth in what others believe.
What does this mean for me as a monk? Christian monasticism defines itself as God-seeking. The monastic call arises from within the attitude of faith and the desire to know, which means a state of unknowing. Perseverance in the monastic search means abiding in faith and unknowing. And there is a higher unknowing which is a fruit of the monastic search.
To the monastic way of unknowing corresponds a theology called “apophatic,” also called “negative theology” or the via negativa. Apophatic theology does more than just deny of God the imperfections of creatures. It says that there is a mystery in God which cannot be affirmed at all in human terms. There is a profound abyss of meaning in God which the human mind cannot sound out.
Negative theology is more than just a special kind of discourse or “God-talk.” Monks have always appreciated the saying of Evagrius Ponticus: “If you truly pray you are a theologian; if you are a true theologian, you pray.” Theology is prayer; it is experience. In terms of experience the via negativa is the sense of the “divine darkness.” God is dark not just because He is an excess of light or because He exceeds the capacity of our faculties. God is dark not just because He is an excess of light or because He exceeds the capacity of our faculties. God is dark because He exceeds being.
The “theologian” par excellence is the author of the fourth gospel. The summit of Johannine theology is the confession of Thomas in chapter 20: “My Lord and my God!” This is theology without grammar or syntax. It may be taken as a prayer, and it is certainly the outward expression of what we can call a mystical experience.
Because of our Western cultural prejudices about what is or is not theology, we always want to add a subject and/or a predicate to the exclamation of Thomas. We want to make him say: “You are . . ., ” “I believe. . ., ” “Now I understand. . .,” “. . . is here,” “. . . did this.” Not that these additions are meaningless; nor would I say that they betray the sense of John 20:28. But to elaborate on the text in this way means to withdraw from the immediacy of the experiential moment, when we know that God is not only above names and above knowing, but also above being.
In other words, I find a special quality in the experience of God, as narrated in monastic writings, that implies a certain understanding of what it means to know God or to know anything. This understanding corresponds closely with the one implied in apophatic theology. And so, in my search for truth and God, I take as my guide the axioms of the via negativa: “If God is, we are not; if we are, God is not; God is not only above knowing; He is also above essence.”
Apophatic theology, then, leads to silence before God and silence about God—you might call it “adoration theology.” As such, it is a condition for true dialogue and for, dialogue in the search for what is true. Dialogue among religious truth-seekers, and especially among monastics of different religions, begins with silence, and then perhaps words can be exchanged. In our search for unity in truth through dialogue, we can best approach and understand our religious differences by the way of unknowing and of silence. Only in this way, I believe, can the recognition of our differences become an integral part of the search and a necessary stage on the way to the goal of unity in truth.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
The Spirit Is the Source of Holiness
The Second Vatican Council stressed the close relationship which exists in the Church between the gift of the Holy Spirit and the faithful's call and aspiration to holiness: "Christ, the Son of God, who with the Father and the Spirit is praised as 'uniquely holy,' loved the Church as his bride, delivering himself up for her. He did this that he might sanctify her (cf. Eph 5:25-26). He united her to himself as his own body and brought it to perfection by the gift of the Holy Spirit for God's glory. Therefore in the Church everyone...is called to holiness.... This holiness of the Church is unceasingly manifested, and must be manifested, in the fruits of grace which the Spirit produces in the faithful; it is expressed in many ways in individuals, who in their walk of life, tend toward the perfection of charity, thus causing the edification others..." (LG 39).
Being the source of holiness is another basic aspect of the work of the Holy Spirit in the Church.
As seen in the conciliar text just cited, the holiness of the Church begins in Jesus Christ, the Son of God, who became man by the work of the Holy Spirit and was born of the most holy Virgin Mary. The holiness of Jesus in his conception and birth by the power of the Holy Spirit is in deep communion with the holiness of her whom God chose as his mother. As the Council again notes, "It is no wonder therefore that the usage prevailed among the Fathers whereby they called the Mother of God entirely holy and free from all stain of sin, as though fashioned by the Holy Spirit and formed as a new creature" (LG 56). Hers is the first and the highest realization of holiness in the Church, through the power of the Holy Spirit who is the Holy One and the Sanctifier. Mary's holiness is entirely directed toward the supreme holiness of the humanity of Christ, whom the Holy Spirit consecrated and filled with grace from the start of his earthly life until its glorious conclusion when Jesus revealed himself as the "established Son of God in power according to the spirit of holiness through the resurrection of the dead" (Rom 1:4).
On the day of Pentecost this ecclesial holiness shone forth not only in Mary but also in the apostles and in the disciples who with her "were all filled with the Holy Spirit" (Acts 2:4). From that time until the end of time, that holiness, the fullness of which is always Christ from whom we receive all grace (cf. Jn 1:16) is bestowed on all those who open themselves to the power of the Holy Spirit through the apostles' teaching, as the Apostle Peter said in his Pentecost discourse: "Repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins; and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit" (Acts 2:38).
That day was the beginning of the history of Christian holiness to which both the Israelites and the pagans are called. As St. Paul writes, both can "have access through Christ in one Spirit to the Father" (Eph 2:18). All are called to become, according to the text already referred to in the previous catechesis, "fellow citizens with the holy ones and members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the capstone. Through him the whole structure is held together and grows into a temple sacred in the Lord...to become God's dwelling place in the Spirit" (Eph 2:19-22). This concept of the temple is dear to the Apostle, who asks in another passage: "Are you not aware that you are God's temple and that the Holy Spirit dwells in you?" (1 Cor 3:16). And in another place: "Your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit" (1 Cor 6:19).
It is clear that in the context of the Letters to the Corinthians and to the Ephesians the temple is not just an architectural space. It is the representative image of holiness which is brought about by the Holy Spirit in people alive in Christ and united to the Church. And the Church is the "place" for this holiness.
The Apostle Peter too in his first letter uses the same vocabulary and gives us the same teaching. Speaking to the "faithful dispersed" (among the pagans), he reminds them that they have been "chosen in the foreknowledge of God the Father, through sanctification by the Spirit, for obedience and sprinkling with the blood of Jesus Christ" (1 Pet 1:1-2). By strength of this sanctification in the Holy Spirit all are "like living stones built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ" (1 Pet 2:5).
This is a significant special link which the Apostle drew between sanctification and the offering of "spiritual sacrifices," which is really a sharing in the very sacrifice of Christ and in his priesthood. It is one of the basic themes of the Letter to the Hebrews. But also in the Letter to the Romans the Apostle Paul speaks of the "oblation acceptable to God, sanctified by the Holy Spirit"; people (pagans) become that offering through the Gospel (cf. Rom 15:16). And in the Second Letter to the Thessalonians he urges readers to give thanks to God because "he has chosen you as the first fruits for salvation through sanctification by the Spirit and belief in truth" (cf. 2 Thess 2:13). All these are signs of the first Christians' common awareness of the action of the Holy Spirit as the author of holiness within themselves and in the Church. They knew that the Spirit which had been granted to them made them temples of God.
St. Paul insists on this in repeating that the Holy Spirit brings about human sanctification and forms ecclesial communion among believers, as sharers in his very holiness. People who have been "washed, sanctified and justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ" become holy "in the Spirit of our God" (1 Cor 6:11). "Whoever is joined to the Lord becomes one spirit with him" (1 Cor 6:17). And this holiness becomes true worship of the living God: "worship in God's Spirit" (Phil 3:3).
This Pauline teaching goes together with the words of Christ referred to in John's Gospel about "true worshippers" who "worship the Father in spirit and in truth.... The Father seeks such people to worship him" (Jn 4:23-24). This "worship in spirit and in truth" has its roots in Christ who carries out the entire program which was brought to life by him in the Holy Spirit, as Jesus himself said at the Last Supper: "He [the Holy Spirit] will glorify me, because he will take from what is mine and reveal it to you" (Jn 16:14). The entire opus laudis in the Holy Spirit is the "true worship" paid to the Father by the Son, the Incarnate Word, in which believers share through the Holy Sprit. Therefore it is also the glorification of the Son himself in the Father.
The sharing in the Holy Spirit by believers and by the Church occurs also in all the other aspects of sanctification: purification from sin (cf. 1 Pet 4:8), enlightenment of the mind (cf. Jn 14:26), observance of the commandments (cf. Jn 14:23), perseverance in the journey toward eternal life (cf. Eph 1:13-14; Rom 8:14-16), and listening to what the Spirit himself "has to say to the Churches" (cf. Rev 2:7). In considering this work of sanctification in his catechesis on the Apostles' Creed, St. Thomas Aquinas finds it easy to pass from the affirmation about the Holy Spirit to the one about the "holy Catholic Church." He writes: "As we see that in a person there is a body and a soul, and still there are various members, so too the Catholic Church is one body made up of various members. The soul which gives life to this body is the Holy Spirit. And therefore, after our profession of faith in the Holy Spirit, we are commanded to believe in the holy Catholic Church, as the creed says. Now 'Church' means assembly; and therefore the Church is the assembly of the faithful, and every Christian is a member of the Church which is holy...through washing in the blood of Christ, through anointing with the grace of the Holy Spirit, through the indwelling of the Trinity and through the invocation of the name of God in the temple of the soul, which must never be violated (cf. 1 Cor 3:17)" [1] .
The logic of this explanation is based on the fact that holiness, the source of which is the Holy Spirit, must accompany the Church and her members in the course of their whole pilgrimage toward the eternal dwelling place. Therefore in the creed the articles on the Holy Spirit, the Church and the communion of saints are all connected: "I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy Catholic Church, the communion of saints." The perfecting of this union—or the communion of saints—will be the eschatological result of holiness which is bestowed by the Holy Spirit on this earth to the Church in her sons and daughters, in every person, in every generation throughout the course of history. Even though during this history the sons and daughters of the Church often "sadden the Holy Spirit" (Eph 4:30), faith tells us that, "marked" by this Spirit "for the day of redemption" (Eph 4:30), they can advance along the paths of holiness, despite their weakness and sins, as far as the journey's end. The ways are many, and great are the various types of saints within the Church. "Star differs from star in brightness" (1 Cor 15:41). But "there is one Spirit" who in his own way and divine fashion brings about holiness in each person. Therefore we can accept with faith and hope the exhortation made by the Apostle Paul: "Therefore, my beloved brothers and sisters, be firm, steadfast, always fully devoted to the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain" (1 Cor 15:58)
Pope John Paul II
General Audience — December 12, 1990
Posted by Carlos J. Medina, OSA
Being the source of holiness is another basic aspect of the work of the Holy Spirit in the Church.
As seen in the conciliar text just cited, the holiness of the Church begins in Jesus Christ, the Son of God, who became man by the work of the Holy Spirit and was born of the most holy Virgin Mary. The holiness of Jesus in his conception and birth by the power of the Holy Spirit is in deep communion with the holiness of her whom God chose as his mother. As the Council again notes, "It is no wonder therefore that the usage prevailed among the Fathers whereby they called the Mother of God entirely holy and free from all stain of sin, as though fashioned by the Holy Spirit and formed as a new creature" (LG 56). Hers is the first and the highest realization of holiness in the Church, through the power of the Holy Spirit who is the Holy One and the Sanctifier. Mary's holiness is entirely directed toward the supreme holiness of the humanity of Christ, whom the Holy Spirit consecrated and filled with grace from the start of his earthly life until its glorious conclusion when Jesus revealed himself as the "established Son of God in power according to the spirit of holiness through the resurrection of the dead" (Rom 1:4).
On the day of Pentecost this ecclesial holiness shone forth not only in Mary but also in the apostles and in the disciples who with her "were all filled with the Holy Spirit" (Acts 2:4). From that time until the end of time, that holiness, the fullness of which is always Christ from whom we receive all grace (cf. Jn 1:16) is bestowed on all those who open themselves to the power of the Holy Spirit through the apostles' teaching, as the Apostle Peter said in his Pentecost discourse: "Repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins; and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit" (Acts 2:38).
That day was the beginning of the history of Christian holiness to which both the Israelites and the pagans are called. As St. Paul writes, both can "have access through Christ in one Spirit to the Father" (Eph 2:18). All are called to become, according to the text already referred to in the previous catechesis, "fellow citizens with the holy ones and members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the capstone. Through him the whole structure is held together and grows into a temple sacred in the Lord...to become God's dwelling place in the Spirit" (Eph 2:19-22). This concept of the temple is dear to the Apostle, who asks in another passage: "Are you not aware that you are God's temple and that the Holy Spirit dwells in you?" (1 Cor 3:16). And in another place: "Your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit" (1 Cor 6:19).
It is clear that in the context of the Letters to the Corinthians and to the Ephesians the temple is not just an architectural space. It is the representative image of holiness which is brought about by the Holy Spirit in people alive in Christ and united to the Church. And the Church is the "place" for this holiness.
The Apostle Peter too in his first letter uses the same vocabulary and gives us the same teaching. Speaking to the "faithful dispersed" (among the pagans), he reminds them that they have been "chosen in the foreknowledge of God the Father, through sanctification by the Spirit, for obedience and sprinkling with the blood of Jesus Christ" (1 Pet 1:1-2). By strength of this sanctification in the Holy Spirit all are "like living stones built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ" (1 Pet 2:5).
This is a significant special link which the Apostle drew between sanctification and the offering of "spiritual sacrifices," which is really a sharing in the very sacrifice of Christ and in his priesthood. It is one of the basic themes of the Letter to the Hebrews. But also in the Letter to the Romans the Apostle Paul speaks of the "oblation acceptable to God, sanctified by the Holy Spirit"; people (pagans) become that offering through the Gospel (cf. Rom 15:16). And in the Second Letter to the Thessalonians he urges readers to give thanks to God because "he has chosen you as the first fruits for salvation through sanctification by the Spirit and belief in truth" (cf. 2 Thess 2:13). All these are signs of the first Christians' common awareness of the action of the Holy Spirit as the author of holiness within themselves and in the Church. They knew that the Spirit which had been granted to them made them temples of God.
St. Paul insists on this in repeating that the Holy Spirit brings about human sanctification and forms ecclesial communion among believers, as sharers in his very holiness. People who have been "washed, sanctified and justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ" become holy "in the Spirit of our God" (1 Cor 6:11). "Whoever is joined to the Lord becomes one spirit with him" (1 Cor 6:17). And this holiness becomes true worship of the living God: "worship in God's Spirit" (Phil 3:3).
This Pauline teaching goes together with the words of Christ referred to in John's Gospel about "true worshippers" who "worship the Father in spirit and in truth.... The Father seeks such people to worship him" (Jn 4:23-24). This "worship in spirit and in truth" has its roots in Christ who carries out the entire program which was brought to life by him in the Holy Spirit, as Jesus himself said at the Last Supper: "He [the Holy Spirit] will glorify me, because he will take from what is mine and reveal it to you" (Jn 16:14). The entire opus laudis in the Holy Spirit is the "true worship" paid to the Father by the Son, the Incarnate Word, in which believers share through the Holy Sprit. Therefore it is also the glorification of the Son himself in the Father.
The sharing in the Holy Spirit by believers and by the Church occurs also in all the other aspects of sanctification: purification from sin (cf. 1 Pet 4:8), enlightenment of the mind (cf. Jn 14:26), observance of the commandments (cf. Jn 14:23), perseverance in the journey toward eternal life (cf. Eph 1:13-14; Rom 8:14-16), and listening to what the Spirit himself "has to say to the Churches" (cf. Rev 2:7). In considering this work of sanctification in his catechesis on the Apostles' Creed, St. Thomas Aquinas finds it easy to pass from the affirmation about the Holy Spirit to the one about the "holy Catholic Church." He writes: "As we see that in a person there is a body and a soul, and still there are various members, so too the Catholic Church is one body made up of various members. The soul which gives life to this body is the Holy Spirit. And therefore, after our profession of faith in the Holy Spirit, we are commanded to believe in the holy Catholic Church, as the creed says. Now 'Church' means assembly; and therefore the Church is the assembly of the faithful, and every Christian is a member of the Church which is holy...through washing in the blood of Christ, through anointing with the grace of the Holy Spirit, through the indwelling of the Trinity and through the invocation of the name of God in the temple of the soul, which must never be violated (cf. 1 Cor 3:17)" [1] .
The logic of this explanation is based on the fact that holiness, the source of which is the Holy Spirit, must accompany the Church and her members in the course of their whole pilgrimage toward the eternal dwelling place. Therefore in the creed the articles on the Holy Spirit, the Church and the communion of saints are all connected: "I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy Catholic Church, the communion of saints." The perfecting of this union—or the communion of saints—will be the eschatological result of holiness which is bestowed by the Holy Spirit on this earth to the Church in her sons and daughters, in every person, in every generation throughout the course of history. Even though during this history the sons and daughters of the Church often "sadden the Holy Spirit" (Eph 4:30), faith tells us that, "marked" by this Spirit "for the day of redemption" (Eph 4:30), they can advance along the paths of holiness, despite their weakness and sins, as far as the journey's end. The ways are many, and great are the various types of saints within the Church. "Star differs from star in brightness" (1 Cor 15:41). But "there is one Spirit" who in his own way and divine fashion brings about holiness in each person. Therefore we can accept with faith and hope the exhortation made by the Apostle Paul: "Therefore, my beloved brothers and sisters, be firm, steadfast, always fully devoted to the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain" (1 Cor 15:58)
Pope John Paul II
General Audience — December 12, 1990
Posted by Carlos J. Medina, OSA
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Significance of the Command to love one another for the audience of John's Gospel
Briefly examining the historical circumstance of the Gospel of John leads me to ask two questions: (1) How was the relationship between the Johanine community and the other Christian communities? (2) How was the relationship among the members of the Johanine community?
Regarding (1), there is a question of whether the Johanine community separated itself from the other apostolic churches. According to Powell in Introduction to the New Testament, the Gospel of John exhibits sectarian characteristics. One example is calling believers as children of light, and calling other groups, particularly the Jews, as children of darkness. The significance of this possibly sectarian character of the community is that the command to love one another perhaps was intended as internal command. In other words, love those who are part of the community, but not those who are outside of it. Powell concludes however that because of the inclusion of Samaritans, Greeks, and even “other sheep” (10:16), that the Johanine community was probably not a sect.
Regarding (2), Raymond Brown in his book The Community of the Beloved Disciple explains that the Johanine community went through stages in its development, and this development included the diversification of the groups that composed it. Brown suggests three stages. In the first stage, the community was composed primarily of Jews with a low Christology. In the second stage, a group with a high Christology emerges. There was conflict between the low Christology and the high Christology groups. The third stage was the large increase of gentiles. I believe that it is difficult to speak then of a Johanine community with a single identity, because its composition seemed to change over time. What “love one another” meant for the community at one time, might have been different at a different time in their development. What I can say about the significance of the command to love one another in John's Gospel is that it might have been a response and a challenge to the division that was going on.
Carlos J. Medina, OSA
Regarding (1), there is a question of whether the Johanine community separated itself from the other apostolic churches. According to Powell in Introduction to the New Testament, the Gospel of John exhibits sectarian characteristics. One example is calling believers as children of light, and calling other groups, particularly the Jews, as children of darkness. The significance of this possibly sectarian character of the community is that the command to love one another perhaps was intended as internal command. In other words, love those who are part of the community, but not those who are outside of it. Powell concludes however that because of the inclusion of Samaritans, Greeks, and even “other sheep” (10:16), that the Johanine community was probably not a sect.
Regarding (2), Raymond Brown in his book The Community of the Beloved Disciple explains that the Johanine community went through stages in its development, and this development included the diversification of the groups that composed it. Brown suggests three stages. In the first stage, the community was composed primarily of Jews with a low Christology. In the second stage, a group with a high Christology emerges. There was conflict between the low Christology and the high Christology groups. The third stage was the large increase of gentiles. I believe that it is difficult to speak then of a Johanine community with a single identity, because its composition seemed to change over time. What “love one another” meant for the community at one time, might have been different at a different time in their development. What I can say about the significance of the command to love one another in John's Gospel is that it might have been a response and a challenge to the division that was going on.
Carlos J. Medina, OSA
Distinctiveness of Mark's Gospel and Mark's Portrait of Jesus
Significant characteristic of Mark’s Gospel
Mark’s Gospel is written with the lowest kind of linguistic quality compared to the other Gospels. He assumes that his audience knows the meaning of Latin words such as centurion, denarius, and praetorium. While he exhibits poor grammar and low linguistic quality, Mark is a gifted story teller. As good story teller, Mark uses effective rhetorical devices such as threefold patterns and intercalation (sandwich style story telling). As a story teller he appreciates mystery and ambiguity. One example is that in 8:14-21 when Jesus calls the disciples’ to be attentive to the yeast of the Pharisees and of Herod, he does not explain what he means when he notices the disciples’ lack of comprehension. The Gospel exhibits an unusual urgency marked by repeated use of “and,” by presenting the story in the context of one year, and not telling us of the change of days. Lastly, Mark is very concerned with the suffering and death of Jesus. Although Mark’s Gospel is about half as long as Luke’s and Matthew’s, his account of the passion and death is about the same length. Thus, Mark spends a greater percentage on the cross.
Mark’s Portrait of Jesus
Mark’s portrait of Jesus is very human. He exhibits a wide range of emotions: pity (1:41), anger (3:5), sadness (3:5), wonder (6:6), compassion (6:34), indignation (10:14), and anguish (14:34).
Mark presents Jesus as involved in secrecy: his parables seem to function as a sort of code language for insiders, he tells people not to make known miracles and healings, and silences demons who announced that he is the Son of God. There are several theories trying to explain this secrecy. Most scholars today understand the secrecy theme in the context of Mark’s centrality of the cross in his Gospel. Jesus did not want anything he did or said understood apart from the context of the cross.
Carlos J. Medina, OSA
Mark’s Gospel is written with the lowest kind of linguistic quality compared to the other Gospels. He assumes that his audience knows the meaning of Latin words such as centurion, denarius, and praetorium. While he exhibits poor grammar and low linguistic quality, Mark is a gifted story teller. As good story teller, Mark uses effective rhetorical devices such as threefold patterns and intercalation (sandwich style story telling). As a story teller he appreciates mystery and ambiguity. One example is that in 8:14-21 when Jesus calls the disciples’ to be attentive to the yeast of the Pharisees and of Herod, he does not explain what he means when he notices the disciples’ lack of comprehension. The Gospel exhibits an unusual urgency marked by repeated use of “and,” by presenting the story in the context of one year, and not telling us of the change of days. Lastly, Mark is very concerned with the suffering and death of Jesus. Although Mark’s Gospel is about half as long as Luke’s and Matthew’s, his account of the passion and death is about the same length. Thus, Mark spends a greater percentage on the cross.
Mark’s Portrait of Jesus
Mark’s portrait of Jesus is very human. He exhibits a wide range of emotions: pity (1:41), anger (3:5), sadness (3:5), wonder (6:6), compassion (6:34), indignation (10:14), and anguish (14:34).
Mark presents Jesus as involved in secrecy: his parables seem to function as a sort of code language for insiders, he tells people not to make known miracles and healings, and silences demons who announced that he is the Son of God. There are several theories trying to explain this secrecy. Most scholars today understand the secrecy theme in the context of Mark’s centrality of the cross in his Gospel. Jesus did not want anything he did or said understood apart from the context of the cross.
Carlos J. Medina, OSA
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Earliest Traces of Compassion
THE GIST
Traces of the world's first known disabled, elderly human have been found in Spain.
The individual is thought to have been a male who received support from his group and lived 500,000 years ago.
This discovery suggests that our ancient human relatives were capable of compassion and social bonding.
Read the rest of the article here:
http://news.discovery.com/archaeology/disabled-elderly-human.html
Traces of the world's first known disabled, elderly human have been found in Spain.
The individual is thought to have been a male who received support from his group and lived 500,000 years ago.
This discovery suggests that our ancient human relatives were capable of compassion and social bonding.
Read the rest of the article here:
http://news.discovery.com/archaeology/disabled-elderly-human.html
Saturday, October 2, 2010
The Cross as The Perspective to Look at the Problem of Evil
“Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able?
Then he is not omnipotent.
Is he able, but not willing?
Then he is malevolent.
Is he both able and willing?
Then whence cometh evil?
Is he neither able nor willing?
Then why call him God?”
-Attributed to Epicurus
I could never myself believe in God, if it were not for the cross. The only God I believe in is the One Nietzsche ridiculed as “God on the cross.” In the real world of pain, how could one worship a God who was immune to it? ... [The God I worship is] that lonely, twisted, tortured figure on the cross, nails through hands and feet, back lacerated, limbs wrenched, brow bleeding from thorn-pricks, mouth dry and intolerably thirsty, plunged in God-forsaken darkness. That is the God for me! He laid aside his immunity to pain. He entered our world of flesh and blood, tears and death. He suffered for us. … There is still a question mark against human suffering, but over it we … stamp another mark, the cross, which symbolizes divine suffering.
Excerpt From John Stott's The Cross of Christ found here
-Carlos J. Medina, OSA
Then he is not omnipotent.
Is he able, but not willing?
Then he is malevolent.
Is he both able and willing?
Then whence cometh evil?
Is he neither able nor willing?
Then why call him God?”
-Attributed to Epicurus
I could never myself believe in God, if it were not for the cross. The only God I believe in is the One Nietzsche ridiculed as “God on the cross.” In the real world of pain, how could one worship a God who was immune to it? ... [The God I worship is] that lonely, twisted, tortured figure on the cross, nails through hands and feet, back lacerated, limbs wrenched, brow bleeding from thorn-pricks, mouth dry and intolerably thirsty, plunged in God-forsaken darkness. That is the God for me! He laid aside his immunity to pain. He entered our world of flesh and blood, tears and death. He suffered for us. … There is still a question mark against human suffering, but over it we … stamp another mark, the cross, which symbolizes divine suffering.
Excerpt From John Stott's The Cross of Christ found here
-Carlos J. Medina, OSA
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
A Reflection on Anger After Reading the letter of James
"Know this, my dear brothers: everyone should be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath, for the wrath of a man does not accomplish the righteousness of God.
Therefore, put away all filth and evil excess and humbly welcome the word that has been planted in you and is able to save your souls. Be doers of the word and not hearers only, deluding yourselves. For if anyone is a hearer of the word and not a doer, he is like a man who looks at his own face in a mirror. He sees himself, then goes off and promptly forgets what he looked like. But the one who peers into the perfect law of freedom and perseveres, and is not a hearer who forgets but a doer who acts, such a one shall be blessed in what he does." James 1: 19-25
“Let every man be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger.” The reading goes on to tell us “humbly welcome the word that has taken root in you.” The question for me is: how do I welcome this word of being slow to anger? At one point in my life I was much like a priest who said, “I’m a priest, I don’t get angry -I get even,” except I didn’t get even, getting even was too close to anger, when what I experienced was at most rightful indignation.
The expression “be slow to anger” sounds like an oxymoron. The experience of anger is not slow, but overcomes one rather quickly. So I have tried to avoid anger for a long time. I have discovered that I end up falling into the well known trap of unconscious, passive aggressive behavior.
What does one do? One seems to be in the dilemma of either being overcome by anger or overcome by passive aggression (albeit unconscious). Take your pick. It’s like the option of sugar or sugar substitutes: do you prefer the calories or the risk of cancer? Except that one can always go without sugar, whereas the anger or passive aggression seems to be a forced dilemma.
What is it about anger that I am afraid of? Such a question reveals something powerful: perhaps the problem is not so much anger, but the fear of anger. Why do I fear anger? Because I do not want to snap at people, and say something harmful.
Perhaps experiencing anger does not necessarily lead to snapping at people. I think this may be what the scripture may be getting at by admonishing us to be slow to anger. Be slow to anger may be paraphrased as experience anger, but do not be overcome by it. The question is, How? In my limited experiential knowledge, two things seem most important. First of all anger must be acknowledged to ourselves. Perhaps the reason why some people react so quickly when they are angry is because they haven’t first acknowledged that they are angry. Second, maintaining an awareness of God’s presence: “The word that has taken root in you has power to save you” says the text. We are to remember this word constantly, not be like the man who looks at himself at the mirror, goes off and promptly forgets what he looked like. Rather than snapping at someone, experiencing anger in remembrance of the Word, may help us say with Jesus, “Father forgive them for they know not what they do,” or perhaps, we may be angry at a social injustice, and in the spirit of compassion be led to do something about it. These two steps of acknowledging our anger to ourselves, and doing so in the context of our relationship with God are difficult, no doubt. So let us practice often! And may St. Augustine, and Our Mother of Good counsel pray for us!
Carlos J. Medina, OSA
Therefore, put away all filth and evil excess and humbly welcome the word that has been planted in you and is able to save your souls. Be doers of the word and not hearers only, deluding yourselves. For if anyone is a hearer of the word and not a doer, he is like a man who looks at his own face in a mirror. He sees himself, then goes off and promptly forgets what he looked like. But the one who peers into the perfect law of freedom and perseveres, and is not a hearer who forgets but a doer who acts, such a one shall be blessed in what he does." James 1: 19-25
“Let every man be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger.” The reading goes on to tell us “humbly welcome the word that has taken root in you.” The question for me is: how do I welcome this word of being slow to anger? At one point in my life I was much like a priest who said, “I’m a priest, I don’t get angry -I get even,” except I didn’t get even, getting even was too close to anger, when what I experienced was at most rightful indignation.
The expression “be slow to anger” sounds like an oxymoron. The experience of anger is not slow, but overcomes one rather quickly. So I have tried to avoid anger for a long time. I have discovered that I end up falling into the well known trap of unconscious, passive aggressive behavior.
What does one do? One seems to be in the dilemma of either being overcome by anger or overcome by passive aggression (albeit unconscious). Take your pick. It’s like the option of sugar or sugar substitutes: do you prefer the calories or the risk of cancer? Except that one can always go without sugar, whereas the anger or passive aggression seems to be a forced dilemma.
What is it about anger that I am afraid of? Such a question reveals something powerful: perhaps the problem is not so much anger, but the fear of anger. Why do I fear anger? Because I do not want to snap at people, and say something harmful.
Perhaps experiencing anger does not necessarily lead to snapping at people. I think this may be what the scripture may be getting at by admonishing us to be slow to anger. Be slow to anger may be paraphrased as experience anger, but do not be overcome by it. The question is, How? In my limited experiential knowledge, two things seem most important. First of all anger must be acknowledged to ourselves. Perhaps the reason why some people react so quickly when they are angry is because they haven’t first acknowledged that they are angry. Second, maintaining an awareness of God’s presence: “The word that has taken root in you has power to save you” says the text. We are to remember this word constantly, not be like the man who looks at himself at the mirror, goes off and promptly forgets what he looked like. Rather than snapping at someone, experiencing anger in remembrance of the Word, may help us say with Jesus, “Father forgive them for they know not what they do,” or perhaps, we may be angry at a social injustice, and in the spirit of compassion be led to do something about it. These two steps of acknowledging our anger to ourselves, and doing so in the context of our relationship with God are difficult, no doubt. So let us practice often! And may St. Augustine, and Our Mother of Good counsel pray for us!
Carlos J. Medina, OSA
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
With Much Gratitude
"Humanity needs to know and above all to live this fundamental reality: God is love, and the encounter with him is the only response to the restlessness of the human heart."
"Augustine converted to Christ who is truth and love, followed him throughout his life and became a model for every human being, for all of us in search of God."
As I reflect on these two quotes from Pope Benedict's general audience on February 27th, 2008, I am filled with much gratitude for having experienced God as love, and for the opportunity to respond to His love by professing vows of chastity, obedience, and poverty, on July 31st, thus consecrating myself to abide in Him as an Augustinian.
Besides my first vows, some of the events of my province this summer give me much hope:
Br. Mark Menegatti, OSA, evangelized youth through hip-hop in England; Fr. Tom Davis, OSA, and Fr. Kirk Davis, OSA, were ordained; and Br. Ronnie Custorio, OSA, professed solemn vows.
I am having difficulty posting pictures, but visit http://www.osa-west.org/ and click on current events.
It is good to be writing again. Hopefully I will be able to write more often now that I am no longer a novice :)
Carlos J. Medina, OSA
"Augustine converted to Christ who is truth and love, followed him throughout his life and became a model for every human being, for all of us in search of God."
As I reflect on these two quotes from Pope Benedict's general audience on February 27th, 2008, I am filled with much gratitude for having experienced God as love, and for the opportunity to respond to His love by professing vows of chastity, obedience, and poverty, on July 31st, thus consecrating myself to abide in Him as an Augustinian.
Besides my first vows, some of the events of my province this summer give me much hope:
Br. Mark Menegatti, OSA, evangelized youth through hip-hop in England; Fr. Tom Davis, OSA, and Fr. Kirk Davis, OSA, were ordained; and Br. Ronnie Custorio, OSA, professed solemn vows.
I am having difficulty posting pictures, but visit http://www.osa-west.org/ and click on current events.
It is good to be writing again. Hopefully I will be able to write more often now that I am no longer a novice :)
Carlos J. Medina, OSA
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