"O Lord, what is my trust which I have in this life, or what is my greatest comfort of all the things which are seen under Heaven? Is it not Thou, O Lord my God, whose mercies are without number? Where hath it been well with me without Thee? Or when could it be evil whilst Thou wert near? I had rather be poor for Thy sake, than rich without Thee. I choose rather to be a pilgrim upon the earth with Thee than without Thee to possess heaven. Where Thou art, there is heaven; and where Thou are not, behold there death and hell. Thou art all my desire, and therefore must I groan and cry and earnestly pray after Thee. In short I can confide fully in none to give me ready help in necessities, save in Thee alone, O my God. Thou art my hope, Thou art my trust, Thou art my Comforter, and most faithful in all things." [Kempis, Thomas A.; The Collected Works of Thomas A Kempis (2007-11-17). The Imitation of Christ (Optimized for Kindle) (Kindle Locations 2616-2622). Kindle Edition.]
Yesterday, for some reason, I just couldn't get out of my mind St. Jerome Emiliani and the image I quoted from his little "vita" of him being freed for God's service through dungeon and chains. St. John of the Cross and his harsh imprisonment at the hands of his own brothers in religion, who were resisting the Carmelite reform but perhaps actually furthering it by contributing to the process of St. John's own refinement in the crucible of suffering, also came to mind. Known or unknown, beatified, canonized or not, heroic virtue in the face of opposition, a rough and tumble dialogue, if you will, seems to be part of the Church's story, successfully prevailing against the gates of hell, indefectible. Little stories of intense personal suffering, not defiance but humble adherence to the Will of God, triumphs again and again after the image of our Savior Crucified, lifted up unto life.
It doesn't really seem to matter whether we are put in chains by enemies or by interests within the Church itself seeking the upper hand and their own path, rather it seems abundantly clear, no matter what, that shackles accomplish the work to be done by God's will. Yes, the fuller's lye, the smith's fire is indeed at work. Apparent conquests by heterodoxy, laxity or inertia are just that apparent; they aren't even temporary setbacks in the plan of God to save His people from sin and further His reign. It seems thus that His holy will is accomplished. "Where Thou art, there is heaven; and where Thou are not, behold there death and hell. Thou art all my desire, and therefore must I groan and cry and earnestly pray after Thee. In short I can confide fully in none to give me ready help in necessities, save in Thee alone, O my God. Thou art my hope, Thou art my trust, Thou art my Comforter, and most faithful in all things."
One of the words much thrown about these days, a word with which both sides of an argument seem ready or determined to upbraid the other is the word "mercy". It got me to thinking again about two moral theologians who haunted the corridors of my student years in Rome, one as a prof, Joseph Fuchs, and the other as a guest speaker at the college, Bernard Häring. Both had the war years and their trauma to excuse their rationalizations in favor of showing mercy in limit cases. I didn't agree with them as a 22 year old, but it is only now that I understand how thoroughly faulty their approach was: excusing not only a mother's prostitution to feed her children, but per force also any number of executioners collaborating to further Hitler's schemes for the final solution in the death camps. The "I could not have done otherwise" is no exoneration from guilt, and not because God is unflinching but because He is truth. His mercy is indeed unto the forgiveness of sin, even the seemingly unforgivable.
St. Ignatius of Antioch on his way to death in the circus at Rome wrote begging his fellow Christians to show him no false compassion by working to spare him a martyr's death. Indeed, while not wishing conflict, dungeon and chains upon the Church, I rejoice when the light of truth shines forth in the lives of God's servants. May their sufferings in union with Christ bear abundant fruit! The example of the martyrdom of St. John the Baptist, for the sake of the truth, comes readily to mind.
It doesn't really seem to matter whether we are put in chains by enemies or by interests within the Church itself seeking the upper hand and their own path, rather it seems abundantly clear, no matter what, that shackles accomplish the work to be done by God's will. Yes, the fuller's lye, the smith's fire is indeed at work. Apparent conquests by heterodoxy, laxity or inertia are just that apparent; they aren't even temporary setbacks in the plan of God to save His people from sin and further His reign. It seems thus that His holy will is accomplished. "Where Thou art, there is heaven; and where Thou are not, behold there death and hell. Thou art all my desire, and therefore must I groan and cry and earnestly pray after Thee. In short I can confide fully in none to give me ready help in necessities, save in Thee alone, O my God. Thou art my hope, Thou art my trust, Thou art my Comforter, and most faithful in all things."
One of the words much thrown about these days, a word with which both sides of an argument seem ready or determined to upbraid the other is the word "mercy". It got me to thinking again about two moral theologians who haunted the corridors of my student years in Rome, one as a prof, Joseph Fuchs, and the other as a guest speaker at the college, Bernard Häring. Both had the war years and their trauma to excuse their rationalizations in favor of showing mercy in limit cases. I didn't agree with them as a 22 year old, but it is only now that I understand how thoroughly faulty their approach was: excusing not only a mother's prostitution to feed her children, but per force also any number of executioners collaborating to further Hitler's schemes for the final solution in the death camps. The "I could not have done otherwise" is no exoneration from guilt, and not because God is unflinching but because He is truth. His mercy is indeed unto the forgiveness of sin, even the seemingly unforgivable.
St. Ignatius of Antioch on his way to death in the circus at Rome wrote begging his fellow Christians to show him no false compassion by working to spare him a martyr's death. Indeed, while not wishing conflict, dungeon and chains upon the Church, I rejoice when the light of truth shines forth in the lives of God's servants. May their sufferings in union with Christ bear abundant fruit! The example of the martyrdom of St. John the Baptist, for the sake of the truth, comes readily to mind.
PROPERANTES ADVENTUM DIEI DEI
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