admin

Dear Friends:

Bob: ICYMI, GF put UGC for FAQ in MMS so u c DIY ASAP. LMK
EOD TIA.
Mike: TBF IDK i c. OOO RN. TTYL. TGIF!
Bob: LOL.
Got that?

Today, this could pass for a relatively simple communiqué between colleagues. My parents, both teachers, wouldn’t have a clue as to its meaning. Add the obligatory emojis and, well…you may not even want to know what some people are saying. The free exchange of ideas is difficult enough when people from different cultures, religions, and ways of life espouse conflicting opinions: i.e. the “what” of the debate. It is infinitely harder when we cannot even agree on the language—the “how”—we use to communicate with each other. Take morality, for example: a fraught subject if there ever was one. What I find revealing is not so much what people have to say about this or that hot topic, but how they phrase the discussion. If a person begins, “I feel that…” the discussion is already over. Who am I to take issue with someone’s feelings? Here’s another: “I have a right to…” Two things here. First, “rights” language is a relatively recent idea with a negative connotation, i.e. freedom from constraint: nothing positive or noble. And have you noticed how the rights people are normally concerned with are their own, and rarely those of others? The discussion is anything but altruistic. Still others begin, “What would you do if…?” The problem here is that the individual immediately jumps, without principle or discernment, into action: hardly a recipe for a positive outcome. Ancient thinkers, by contrast, were concerned more with the kind of person one aspires to be, and the qualities a good person demonstrates. Such an individual is not influenced by emotion or personal advantage or artificial rules, but by the desire for excellence, which redounds to the advantage of all.

This week the Church honors Pope St. John I, a sixth-century pope and martyr about whose short reign we know little. Yet the scant evidence we do have illustrates his magnanimity toward an unexpected beneficiary. At the time, orthodox Roman Catholicism was being undermined by Arianism, a heresy that denied the true divinity of Christ. The Catholic Emperor, Justin, exacted harsh penalties against his Arian subjects, while their champion, King Theodoric, resisted these measures. He appealed to Pope John, who besought the Emperor to show mercy upon the “heretics,” not because he agreed with their position but out of charity. The same King Theodoric, far from showing gratitude to the pope, harbored only jealousy toward him and, after having John arrested, allowed him to die in prison in 526 AD.

One wishes there existed a more beautiful portrait of Pope John I than the one we have, but perhaps the example of its subject, a pastor of souls and martyr, is all that is necessary. In our tumultuous world, we might pray for his twofold virtues: bold witness to the truth, and compassion for others. Whatever our differences, love is the language we can all understand.

Faithfully,
Fr. Valentine

Dear Friends:

It’s wonderful to be back to work at St. Mary’s after my “time away.” I’ve certainly missed you all, and am profoundly grateful for the love and generosity you’ve shown me over the course of my convalescence. It is no exaggeration to say that I owe my life to the efforts of doctors and medical professionals who cared for me. While you don’t need to hear the details, I would like to share a moment with you that made an impression on me. Lying in bed after the procedure, it was not possible to eat as usual. A nurse had to feed me my applesauce, spoonful by spoonful: something I hadn’t experienced since Mom performed the same task when I was two. This tiny action symbolized all the care—medical and personal—I received from kind people who did for someone what he could never do for himself.

This might sound strange, but I think it might be good for people—particularly those who exercise authority—to be sick or hospitalized at some point in life. Those of us who are in charge can suffer from the delusion that we have everything under control. We whistle past the graveyard and think that while terrible things can occur, they will never happen to us. Undergoing some disability, even for a short time, has the salutary effect of reminding us how very close we are, at every moment, to losing everything. So what would our lives be like if we were to take seriously the precariousness and fragility of our existence? There was an 18th-century Protestant theologian (with an unpronounceable name) who made this experience the basis of his religious thought. He calls it the feeling of “absolute dependence.” For him, this is not some general, vague perception of the material universe, but a primal, human awareness of God himself. Absolute dependence does not extinguish free will, but reveals the difference between limited, frail human beings and the infinite, almighty God.

This week the Church celebrates “Good Shepherd” Sunday, one of the oldest and most enduring images of Christ. Our artwork this week is a depiction of the Good Shepherd from the catacombs in Rome. Interestingly, the Shepherd was a far more popular symbol for Christians in the first three centuries of the Church than either the Cross or the image of Christ the King. Some believe that the crucifixion was still a fresh memory for early Christians, and excessively disturbing, whereas a Shepherd emphasizes God’s love. The picture of a king evoked thoughts of the ongoing persecution of Christians by the civil authorities of the time, whereas the gentle, beardless youth who cares for the flock is reassuring. Notice also that in this particular image, Jesus feeds and protects not only the sheep, but the goats as well! (cf. Matt. 25:32). It suggests that even sinners remain in the embrace of a merciful God, who seeks out the lost.

Apart from the lessons one takes from these images, the fact of these paintings counters the erroneous idea that early Christians were overly spiritualized and iconoclastic. On the contrary, James Hadley argues that concrete realities—the flesh-and-blood Jesus, the beauty of his person, and holy places like the catacombs—all convey the grace of God. Likewise, God shows his care for the most helpless among us through our Mothers. Happy Mothers’ Day!

Faithfully,
Fr. Valentine