Lectio Divina

By: Francine Pirola

bible

Lectio Divina is an ancient and powerful way of praying with scripture. It is so simple that it can be used every day. Yet it is also powerful, drawing forth deep riches from The Word of God.  Following five steps, preparing, listening, reflecting, responding and acting on The Word, this prayer is like a dialogue with God. The choice of scripture passage is up to you — you can use the Gospel of the coming Sunday, the Gospel of the day, a passage chosen at random or work your way through one book of the bible day by day.

1.       Prepare to Hear the Word

Lord Jesus Christ, you are the Son of the Living God.
Teach me to listen to what you tell me in the Holy Scriptures.
Let me hear your voice and discover your face in your Holy Word.
Amen.

Period of stillness and silence as we prepare to receive The Word.

2.       Listen to The Word — Reading

First reading of the text: listen for a word or phrase that stands out for you. Silently let The Word penetrate your heart.

3.       Reflect on The Word — Share

Share the phrase which has stood out for you. Do not comment on others’ contributions or elaborate on your own; just listen and let the phrase stay with you. Let The Word of God speak into your heart and allow silence in between each contribution.

4.       Respond to The Word — Prayer

Second reading of the text.

Reflect: What is the passage telling you about your life? What have you learned about God from the passage? What is God calling you to do?

Share your prayer which emerges from the text aloud.

Concluding Prayer: Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.

5.       Act on The Word

Take The Word into your daily life with action based on your reflection.

Credit to Francine Pirola of SmartLoving  and CathFamily.

Out on a Limb: Trusting Providence or Tempting the Lord?

By: Dr. Gregory Popcak

prayer

You shall not put the Lord, your God to the test.

 ~Dt 6:16 and Mt 4:7

 “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I guess I’ll just assume that whatever comes next is God’s will.”

“We don’t worry about our finances. God will take care of the bills however he sees fit.”

“We don’t use Natural Family Planning (NFP), we just trust the Lord to give us as many children as He wants.”

In my work counseling Catholics all across the country, I regularly encounter comments like the above and, to be perfectly honest, they always make me cringe just a little bit.     On the surface, these comments sound very pious, even noble, and they are always spoken by well-meaning individuals whose hearts are decidedly in the right place. Even so, I can’t help but think that they are missing something.  It is true that time and again, Scripture cautions against worrying too much about things of the earth. “Consider the lilies,” the Lord says, “they neither toil nor spin, but not even Solomon was arrayed as these.” (See Matthew 6:25-34  for the full passage) On the face of it, it would seem that the Lord is telling us that we should just hang loose, relax, let His will take over and stop trying so hard to figure everything out.  And yet, through the Parable of the Talents, the Lord teaches us that we are to make full use of all the gifts we have been given. Our intellect and will are two of those gifts, and while we should not rely on them to the exclusion of seeking God’s will, neither should we ignore them, because they are important tools which help us clearly discern God’s will.

Abandon All Common Sense?

It seems to me that there is a fine line between abandoning ourselves to God’s will, and just being foolish. I remember back in college, some peers I knew in my bible study group were doing what they called “the Novena of Novenas” (Note: A  Novena is an ancient spiritual practice, approved by the Church, which consists of praying for a nine-day period for some specific, important intention)  As I recall, this was an eighty-one day cycle of prayers that would enable them to discover–presumably in a dream or some other major theophany (vision or manifestation of the divine)–what God wanted them to do when they graduated.  I remember commenting on their spiritual stamina, and then asking, “Have you been to the career counseling office?”

“No” they answered.

“Oh.” I said. “Have you taken any interest tests?”

“Nuh-uh.” They said.

“Have you talked to any people who do the kinds of work you might be interested in?”

“No.” They replied in exasperation at what they considered to be my obvious lack of faith. “We don’t want to do that because that is seeking what we want. We want to know what God wants.”

What my friends failed to realize was that the process of discernment requires the full participation of our will and intellect. As each one of them discovered eventually, God would indeed tell them what he wanted them to do, but only after they actively, willfully and intellectually investigated all of their options, using all of the resources (i.e., the career counseling office, magazines, interviews with professionals, survey courses, interest inventories, etc.) God had already made available to them.     When the Lord said, “Consider the lilies” he was not saying “Don’t do anything, just accept whatever you trip over as if it was my will.” He meant, as Proverbs says, “Work at your tasks in due season, and in time, God will give you the reward of your labors.”  In other words, seeking God’s will for your life does not mean throwing up your hands and saying, “Silly me. I couldn’t possibly ever wrap my puny little brain around that big ol’ problem. I guess I shouldn’t even try.”     It means saying, “I’m not sure how to solve this problem, but if I pray like it is all up to God, and work like it is all up to me, then I can trust that the Lord will bless the work of my hands and guide my steps so that, in time, his will would be made apparent.”

Having Faith vs. Shirking Responsibility  

Too often, when people say they are “letting God decide” what to do with their life, finances, or even family size, what they really mean is that they are chickening out. They don’t want to make a difficult decision, so they would rather just go along, ignorant, reserving the right to blame God if anything goes wrong. I am often saddened to confront this reality in my practice. I recently heard from a woman with ten children whose husband left her. She told me that she felt so abandoned by God. She admitted that yes, she and her husband had always had a very difficult marriage, but she just assumed that if God kept giving her children, it meant that he would look after the security of their relationship.     What she failed to realize was that God had given her and her husband the responsibility of balancing the unitive and procreative ends of their marriage. Through the doctrine of responsible parenthood, the Church tells couples that each month, they are obliged to prayerfully take into account the state of their marriage, their financial resources, their health, and ability to meet the needs of the present family members as they discern whether now is the time to bring a new life into their “community of love” (i.e., “family”).     This woman, for whom my heart broke, said she had refused to use NFP over the years because she thought that to do so would be asserting her will over God’s. But again, she didn’t understand that NFP is not “Catholic birth control.” Rather, it is a discernment tool, a call to prayer that encourages couples to reflect, each month, on the state of their lives and relationship with an eye toward either strengthening what already exists, or adding a new life to the family as a way of celebrating and witnessing to the strength and love that already exists in the family.     Now, after years of abandoning the intellect and will God had given them to balance the need to strengthen their unity with the need to be open to life, this husband and wife were angry at God for letting them down.

I recently spoke to another couple that was filing for bankruptcy. It seems that they had been having financial problems for a long time, but they didn’t know what to do about it. Rather than seeking credit counseling, or consulting a financial planner, or even making a budget, this couple simply decided to throw up their hands, put on a smiley face and assert that “God will not let us fall.” Well, he did. And the fallout was not only financial strife, but marital and spiritual upheaval as well. They blamed each other for failing, and they blamed God for letting them down.  But the fact is that even though God is a generous and loving Father, who tries to save us from our own stupidity, he is also a just God who allows us to experience the very real consequences of our folly; the consequences that accompany failing to use the gifts we have been given, most of all, our will and intellect.  Of course, none of this is to deny the amazingly generous providence of God, nor does it deny that there are times when God will ask us to do impossible things and bear us up while we do them. But even in these times it is absolutely necessary to use our will and intellect to discern whether it is really the voice of God speaking, or merely wishful thinking.     The Lord has intervened in miraculous ways many times in my life, but he has rarely done so when I have attempted to manipulate him into a miracle by blindly screwing up my life so much that the only way I could be saved was through massive divine intervention. Instead, in those times, God has given me the grace to clean up my own mess and move on.  And I always got the sense that as He looks on in love, he smiles, shakes his head, and says, “Next time, do ya think that maybe you could just USE THAT PERFECTLY GOOD BRAIN I GAVE YOU?!?” To which I respond,  “No promises, Lord. But I will certainly try.”

If you or someone you love are struggling with finding the balance between determining what is yours to do in life and what is left to God, call your PaxCare Tele-Coach today and get the solutions you are seeking.

God First Loved Us

By: Christopher West

therapy

A friend of mine — I’ll call him “Joe” — recently came to me in distress asking me to help him process the counsel he had been receiving from a Catholic therapist.   “You need to love God more,” was his therapist’s repeated advice.   Sounds fine.   Don’t we all?   But as Joe shared more, I began to understand why his stomach was in knots.  Joe is a man profoundly in touch with that deep “ache” in his soul, that human desire for happiness, love, fulfillment.   As the Catechism  makes clear, this yearning “is of divine origin: God has placed it in the human heart in order to draw man to the One who alone can fulfill it” (CCC 1718).   Like most of us, though, Joe, at his own admission, has looked to fulfill that desire in wrong ways.   One of his goals in going to a Catholic therapist was to learn how to direct his desire rightly.

Love God More?  

Over several sessions, the impression Joe got from the therapist was that his hunger, his “need” itself  was the problem, and somehow it needed to be annihilated.   His therapist said he was being self-centered; he shouldn’t be thinking about his desire at all, but should focus on serving God more, on loving God more.   Of course, we often are self-centered and need to focus more on God.   Acknowledging that, Joe tried dutifully to put his therapist’s counsel into practice.  It didn’t work.   And the more his therapist insisted that he “love God more,” the more Joe felt like a failure, until one day Joe erupted: “I can’t love God more!   I try and try but I don’t have it in me.”

Joe is right.   In and of ourselves, we aren’t able to love God.   Our loving God can only be a return of the love he pours out on us.   “This is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us” (1 Jn 4:10).   As the Catechism  states, “God’s initiative of love always comes first; our own first step is always a response” (CCC 2567).  My point here is not to pounce on Joe’s therapist.   There may well be more to the story.   Rather, Joe’s situation presents the opportunity to reflect on a widespread “trap” we’re prone to in the spiritual life — the trap of thinking it’s up to us to “be good” to “be holy” to “love God more.”   When we think this way we’re actually forgetting our basic status as creatures.

Allowing God to Love Us

In his book Faith, Hope, Love, Catholic philosopher Josef Pieper put it this way: “Need-love, whose goal is its own fulfillment, is also the nucleus and the beginning in all our loving.   It is … set in motion by the act that created us.   Hence, it is fundamentally impossible for us to control it, let alone annul it.”   Pieper continues, “The call for an utterly disinterested, unmotivated … love that wishes to receive nothing … simply rests upon a misunderstanding of man as he really is.   The error, it must be noted, consists not so much in mistaking man’s empirical imperfection as in failing to recognize that the human condition is that of a created being.”  In other words, this deep need  that Joe experiences is not the result of some stubborn imperfection that he must strive to overcome.   It’s something God put there to lead Joe to heaven: that is, to invite Joe to open himself to divine love, the one and only thing that satisfies the ache.

We have nothing to offer God (or anyone else for that matter) that we have not first received.   This is why, in the biblical analogy of spousal love, we are always the “bride” (even men!) and God is always the Bridegroom.   For, according to the theology of our bodies, the bride is the one who receives the gift of the bridegroom and conceives life within.   As John Paul II put it, “the husband is above all the one who loves and the wife … is the one who is loved” (TOB 92:6).  So, how can we love God more?   By letting him first love us more.   How can we serve God more?   By letting him first serve us more.   For Christ came not to be served, but to serve (see Mt 20:28).   We must let him serve us.   We must let him “wash our feet” or we can have “no part in him” (Jn 13:8).   Mary is the one who shows us how to receive  this kind of love, this kind of service.   Mary, Mother of God, pray for my friend Joe that he would learn how to open his desire to the One alone who can satisfy it, just as you did.   Amen.

Have you encountered any of the above problems? Call your PaxCare Tele-Coach now and get the help you need to resolve any such issues.

Of Feasting and Fasting

By: Christopher West

feast

The season of Lent comes upon us each year and Catholics around the world embrace various forms of fasting and abstinence in preparation for the holiest week of the year.   But why do we fast?   How does saying no to food or other bodily pleasures actually increase our love for God?

Recognizing our Yearning for the Infinite

Christian fasting is not rooted in suspicion towards or rejection of the physical world, the human body, or the pleasures of food.   Precisely the opposite.   Only those who know how to fast properly know how to feast.   We fast, first of all, the Catechism  says, to “prepare us for the liturgical feasts” (CCC 2043).  Fasting allows us to feel our hunger.   And feeling our physical hunger can, if we allow it, lead us to feel our spiritual hunger, that is, our hunger for God.   Think of the woman at the well: she came there physically thirsty and left with the promise of living water flowing from the well of salvation.

If feeling our hunger can awaken our spiritual senses, never feeling hunger can dull them.   Furthermore, when we always satisfy our hunger, we can become enslaved by the pleasures of this world.   Fasting and abstinence “help us acquire mastery over our instincts and freedom of heart” (CCC 2043).   And this kind of freedom is especially important for people like me who love  to eat.  Oh, do I ever!   In fact, at the end of a meal I often feel a pointed (and even poignant) sadness.   I sometimes find myself picking the minutest of crumbs off my plate in an attempt to stretch the enjoyment until every last morsel is gone.   But I’m only putting off the inevitable.   This meal is going to end.   It’s going to end!   One more crumb and its over.   Done.   Finished.   Something in me screams: No!   I want this to last forever

And there it is — my yearning for the infinite … my yearning for God.   The sadness I feel at the end of a meal can either lead to gluttony (the idolatry of food) or I can accept the “pain” of my desire and allow it to open me to the living hope of the eternal banquet.   Fasting, properly practiced, is a wide open door precisely to this hope.  God desires to feed us — and not just from any po’ boys  menu, but with “juicy, rich food, and pure, choice wines” (Is 25:6), with “bread come down from heaven” (Jn 6:41).   Scripture describes heaven itself as a feast — a wedding feast (see Rev 19:9).   And let us not forget Christ’s first miracle: at the end of the party when the wedding guests had already finished the wine, Christ provides gallons and gallons of the finest wine imaginable.   As the glory of Pentecost indicates, we are all called to get “drunk” on this new wine (see Acts 2:13).

Drunk off ‘New Wine’

This kind of “holy intoxication” is a favorite theme of the mystics.   For in the Song of Songs, the King invites his bride into the “wine cellar” (1:4).   Teresa of Avila offers this commentary: “The King seems to refuse nothing to the Bride!   Well, then, let her drink as much as she desires and get drunk on all these wines in the cellar of God!   Let her enjoy these joys, wonder at these great things, and not fear to lose her life through drinking much more than her weak nature enables her to do.   Let her die at last in this paradise of delights; blessed death that makes one live in such a way.”  Wow!   If authentic Christian fasting is meant to prepare me for this kind of feasting, bring it on!   But what, we might ask, is the difference between this kind of “holy indulgence” and the frat-party beer bong?   It’s this: we become gluttons and drunkards when we seek satisfaction of our desire for Infinity in the earth’s wine, but we become saints when we seek satisfaction of our desire for Infinity in heaven’s wine.

Should we, then, reject the earth’s wine?   No!   That is the essential error of puritanism and Manichaeism — the idea that the physical world and its pleasures are evil.   No, they aren’t evil.   Properly embraced, they are little sacraments, little foretastes of heaven.  In fact, how does God communicate heaven’s wine to us?   Precisely through earth’s wine: “Blessed are you, Lord, God of all creation.   Through your goodness we have this wine to offer, fruit of the vine and work of human hands.   It will become our spiritual drink.”   But in order to enter the Infinite delights of this liturgical feast, we will need to learn to fast.

Lecturing on Theology of the Body in Poland

By: Christopher West

Poland

In early March of 2008, I traveled to Poland on a three-fold mission: (1) to offer a series of lectures for the John Paul II Center in Krakow; (2) to carry out some further research on the late Pope’s teaching; and (3) to make a pilgrimage to those places of importance to the life and work of Karol Wojtyla.   What an incredible journey it was.  As soon as the wheels touched down at the airport in Krakow, I was filled with emotion.   I could almost feel the suffering of this land.   So much blood spilled here, the lives of millions slaughtered on Polish soil.   Poland has been called the Christ of nations, and I had a keen sense that I was one of the direct beneficiaries of all that this land has suffered.

Privileged Experiences in Poland

John Paul II’s vision of the human person — expressed so beautifully in his masterwork, the “theology of the body” (TOB) — simply cannot be understood apart from the Polish context in which Karol Wojtyla was formed.   As a young man, death and degradation surrounded him.   It could rain human ashes in Krakow, an hour and a half drive from the crematoriums in Auschwitz.   Wojtyla would have been sent there too, or shot on the spot, like so many of his fellow Poles, had his clandestine seminary studies been discovered.  While others concluded that life was absurd, young Wojtyla felt compelled to press-in to the enigma of human existence and seek answers.   The answers he found have changed my life, and I felt the need somehow to “repay the debt” to the Polish people for what they had given me in John Paul II.   That, in fact, was the chief reason I accepted the invitation to lecture there.

I was invited to present a three night series on John Paul II’s TOB at the famous “Ark Church” in a town outside Krakow called Nowa Huta.   The Communists insisted that this would be “a town without God.”   Archbishop Wojtyla insisted that the people needed a church.   The Ark Church now stands as a symbol of Wojtyla’s triumph over atheism.   Lecturing there was a tremendous honor.  The second aspect of my mission was to carry out further research on the Popes’ TOB.   Michael Waldstein, a scholar from Austria with whom I had worked on a new English translation of the TOB, invited me to attend a private meeting he had scheduled with Stanislaw Dziwisz, John Paul II’s personal secretary of forty years and, now, Cardinal Archbishop of Krakow.   Waldstein and I were able to ask the Cardinal questions about John Paul II’s teaching to which only he would have the answers.

Uncovering the Mysteries of the Theology of the Body

One of the mysteries he was able to solve for us was why the Pope had originally prepared 135 addresses for his Wednesday general audiences on the TOB, but only delivered 129.   Dziwisz told us that the undelivered material, mostly on the erotic poetry of the Song of Songs, was “too delicate” for a general audience.   The Pope was concerned that these particular reflections were not appropriate for the children who would be present in St. Peter’s square.  I have been studying these undelivered talks since Waldstein first translated them into English two years ago.   They are so rich, so beautiful, so glorious, that I decided to postpone the book project I had been working on to write a book devoted solely to unfolding these “hidden” talks of John Paul II (it was published by Ascension Press later that very year).   And it is certainly true to say that these undelivered talks are intended for a mature audience.

And the third aspect was pilgrimage.   Touring Auschwitz was an experience I will never forget.   The horror is simply incomprehensible.   No words.  I was able to visit many of the sites of Wojtyla’s life, including a private tour of the small apartment where the Pope lived for the first eighteen years of his life.   The Polish nun now in charge of the home allowed me to have some time alone to pray in the room where John Paul was born.   This is where it all started.   This is the “cradle” of the TOB, I thought.   This is where Karol Wojtyla first experienced the meaning of marriage and family life.   Little did his parents know what a difference their marriage was going to have on the world.   That’s what marriage does — it changes the world.

For more information on John Paul II’s landmark teaching, The  Theology of the Body, check out Christopher West’s  Theology of the Body for Beginners.

Sacraments: Where Heaven and Earth Meet in the Body

By: Christopher West

heaven and earth

A recent story from Catholic News Service reported that the Vatican’s Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith had issued a statement saying that baptisms performed “in the name of the Creator, and of the Redeemer, and of the Sanctifier” were invalid.   This should come as no surprise to anyone with just a little knowledge of what sacraments are and how grace is communicated through them.  Harken back to your childhood religion classes and you may remember being taught that a sacrament is “an outward sign instituted by Christ to give grace” (Baltimore Catechism, n. 304).   For most people, however, this text-book definition fails to capture just how wonderful and profound the sacraments really are.   Through these “visible signs instituted by Christ” we actually encounter the eternal God in the temporal world and ­become sharers in his divine life!

Sacraments: Our Bridge to God

There is an infinite abyss that separates Creator and creature.   The wonder of the sacraments is that they bridge this infinite gap.   Sacraments are where heaven and earth “kiss,” where God and man become one in the flesh.   God is invisi ­ble.   Sacraments allow us to see him through the veil of visible signs.   God is intangible.   Sacraments allow us to touch him.   God is incommunicable.   Sacraments are our communion with him. ­  This communion of God and man that the sacraments bring about has become a living reality in the person of Jesus Christ.   Thus, the sacramental life of the Church flows directly from the dynamism of the Incarnation, the mystery of the Word made flesh.   In Christ, God has forever wed himself to our flesh and impregnated the material world with his saving power.   Indeed, as Tertullian, an early Christian writer declared: “the flesh has become the hinge of salva ­tion.”

In contrast to authentic sacramental spirituality, there is a widespread but gravely mistaken (indeed, heretical) notion of spirituality that tends to devalue the body, view it with suspicion, or at times even treat it with contempt.   Catholicism, far from devaluing the body, is a deeply sensual religion.   That’s to say, it’s in and through the body (and it’s senses, hence ‘sensually’) that we encounter the divine.   God doesn’t communicate himself to us with some sort of “spiritual zapping,” but he meets us where we are as earthly, bodily creatures.  Sacraments are efficacious signs.   This means they truly communicate the divine gift they symbolize.   However, in order to communicate the divine gift, they must properly symbolize it — both in “form” and in “matter.”   The form refers to the words spoken and the matter refers to the physical reality of the sacrament.   Change either one, and you no longer have a valid sacrament.

The Form of the Matter

The matter of the sacrament of Baptism is the water and the person being baptized.   You can’t baptize an iguana or a squirrel.   The recipient has to be a human person.   And you can’t baptize a person with mud.   It has to be water.   Why?   Because the spiritual cleansing of Baptism will only occur if the physical sign is one of cleansing.   The physical reality communicates the spiritual reality in as much as it symbolizes the spiritual reality.   Mud is a symbol of making dirty, not of cleansing.   Baptizing someone with mud, then, would be a kind of “anti-baptism.”  The form of a sacrament (the words spoken) is just as important.   Baptism communicates the life of the Trinity in as much as each Person of the Trinity is invoked in his proper identity and eternal relationship to the other Persons — as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.   Speaking of the Creator, Redeemer and Sanctifier touches upon various roles of the Trinity, but not the eternal identity and relationship of the Persons within the Trinity.

The spoken word has a purpose and a power that must be respected in any situation, but especially in the sacraments.   For the words spoken in a sacrament — so long as they are the proper words — convey a divine power.   Change the words, and that divine power is no longer communicated.  It seems that some want to avoid the proper baptismal formula because of a reluctance (or even a steadfast opposition) to calling God “Father.”   We’ll address this reluctance in a future article and explore some of the reasons that Christ revealed God as his Father.

Reflections on the Song of Songs

By: Christopher West

 

When I first discovered John Paul II’s “theology of the body” (TOB) in 1993 — a collection of 129 talks on human love in God’s plan — I knew that I was holding a revolution in my hands.   I also knew I would spend the rest of my life studying it and sharing it with the world.  A few years ago, Pauline Books and Media released a long awaited “critical edition” of the TOB, freshly translated by biblical scholar Michael Waldstein.   This brightly polished edition of the TOB has only increased my appreciation for John Paul II’s dazzling, mystical vision of the human person and reinvigorated me to continue promoting and teaching it. Among this new edition’s many improvements, perhaps most exciting is the inclusion of six undelivered talks never before translated in English.   Waldstein discovered them in the Vatican archives as part of his research. Wow — new undelivered material from John Paul II on the theology of the body!!??   To somebody like me (a TOB “geek”) that’s like Indiana Jones discovering the lost ark or the holy grail.   And the contents of these never before translated talks — mostly on the Song of Songs and the Book of Tobit — truly are a treasure.   They fill in a critical gap in the previous editions of TOB.

Song of Songs

These reflections are based on the recently completed, new edition of my book Theology of the Body Explained (released by Pauline in September of 2007).  Why is the Song of Songs the favorite biblical book of the mystics?   Why have the saints written more commentaries on the Song of Songs than on any other book in the Bible?   Because the erotic poetry of the Song provides a language — certainly inadequate, but in the experience of many of the greatest saints, the least inadequate — for expressing the burning passion of God’s love and the experience of union to which all are called with God.   God’s eternal plan, as the mystics often put it, is to “marry” us — to live with us in an eternal union of love that the Bible compares to a marriage. Thus, the fact that Sacred Scripture celebrates erotic love should not surprise us.   If it does, it seems an indication that we have been influenced more by Manichaeism (a heresy that views the body as evil and opposed to “spiritual things”) than by an authentically Christian/incarnational view of the world.  Christians should be the first to recognize that the erotic themes of the Song of Songs contain, as John Paul II wrote, an “essential sign of holiness” (TOB 109:2).   Sadly, because of the tenacious grip of Manichaean attitudes, many Christians have difficulty putting “sex” and “holiness” in the same sentence.   While that may be understandable in a pornographic culture like ours, we must  work to reclaim the holiness of the body and of spousal love.   Prayerful reflection on the Song of Songs can help.

The Song the Body Sings

Holiness does not reject the body.   Holiness, instead, as John Paul affirmed, is what enables us to express ourselves deeply with our own bodies, by making a gift of our bodies as did Christ.   It is in our bodies, the Pope insisted, that men and women feel the call to holiness (see TOB 19:5).   In fact, the original spousal unity of man and woman — “naked without shame” (Gen 2:25) — is the sure sign, according to John Paul, that “holiness has entered the visible world” (TOB 19:5).  Through the witness of the lovers’ duet in the Song of Songs, we come to understand that the body “speaks” a language of divine love, of holiness.   Not only does it speak — the body sings.   And it not only sings, but it sings the greatest of all songs — the Song of Songs. Or, at least, it is meant to do so.   Sin introduces a sour note to the song.   The good news is that Christ comes into the world to restore the true Song in our hearts precisely by redeeming our bodies.   We’ll continue our reflections on the Song of Songs in part II of this series. In light of various misunderstandings and controversies surrounding the “erotic” nature of this biblical book, how are we to understand it?   We might begin with a passage from St. Paul: “All scripture is inspired by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness” (2 Tim 3:16). Unfortunately, some churchmen throughout history have seemed to think these words of the Apostle do not apply to the erotic poetry of Solomon’s Song. As John Paul observes, to many this book has seemed “profane.” Its reading has often been discouraged and even forbidden (see TOB 108:2).   Such a perspective seems to stem from what the Pope called the “interpretation of suspicion” (see TOB 46).   By that he meant an obstinate inability to see the body through the prism of anything but lust.

Don’t Exalt the Spirit

The Song’s unabashed celebration of erotic love should be seen as the precise biblical antidote to such suspicion.   The Song of Songs teaches us to love human love with the original good of God’s vision. Remember God looked at everything he made and called it “very good” (Gen 1:31)?   With just such a love, the greatest mystics (those saints who engaged in a life of contemplation and prayer in order to achieve a supernatural state of perfection during Earthly life) have drawn lasting inspiration from this sacred, erotic poetry and the Church has inserted its verses into her liturgy (see TOB 108:2).  We must understand that this mystical and liturgical (pertaining to worship in Mass) tradition — rather than the parallel history of suspicion — reflects the authentic mind of the Church regarding the Song of Songs.   For as the Church prays, so does she believe. John Paul observes that the marital love of the Song is connected in some way with the whole biblical tradition of the great spousal analogy. It certainly serves to illuminate the prophets’ description of God’s spousal love for Israel. In turn, the Song of Songs also sheds light on Christ’s union with the Church, as St. Paul describes in Ephesians 5. However, the Pope immediately adds that the “theme of spousal love in this singular biblical ‘poem’ lies outside that great analogy. The love of bridegroom and bride in the Song of Songs is a theme by itself, and in this lies the singularity and originality of that book” (TOB 108:1). Quoting from various biblical scholars, the Holy Father is critical of those who rush to disembody the Song, seeing it only as an allegory of God’s “spiritual” love. It is “the conviction of a growing number of exegetes,” the Pope maintains, that the Song of Songs is “to be taken simply as what it manifestly is: a song of human love” (TOB 108: note 95). For “human love, created and blessed by God, can be the theme of an inspired biblical book” (TOB 108: note 97).

Don’t Deny the Body

John Paul seems to agree with the view of one scholar who writes that those who have “forgotten the lovers” or “petrified them into pretense” have not interpreted the Song correctly. “‘He who does not believe in the human love of the spouses, he who must ask forgiveness for the body, does not have the right to rise higher….With the affirmation of human love, by contrast, it is possible to discover the revelation of God in it’” (TOB 108: note 96). This confirms an essential element of incarnational/sacramental reality. Grace — the mystery of God’s life and covenant love — is communicated through the “stuff” of our humanity, not despite it. Quoting another scholar, John Paul says that “a faithful and happy human love reveals to human beings the attributes of divine love.” This means “that the content of the Song of Songs is at the same time sexual and sacred.” When we ignore the sacred, we see the Song merely as a secular erotic poem. But when we ignore the sexual, we fall into allegorism. “It is only by putting these two aspects together that one can read the book in the right way” (TOB 108: note 97). The Song of Songs demonstrates the integral relationship of the sexual and the sacred.  It is a classic blunder of “religious” people (in fact, a heretical error) to think one must reject sexuality to reach the holy and the sacred.   What we must reject is only the distortion  of sexuality, not sexuality itself.   The erotic poetry of the Song of Songs evokes all that is true, good, and beautiful about sexual love as God created it to be “in the beginning” — before sin distorted it. In the beginning, man and woman experienced sexual desire as nothing but the desire to love as God loves, in God’s image.   This is what enabled them to be “naked without shame” (Gen 2:25).   Adam’s fascination with Eve — “At last, you are the one!   You are bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh” (see Gen 2:23) — serves as a precursor to the Song of Songs.   John Paul II observed that what “was barely expressed in the second chapter of Genesis…in just a few simple and essential words is developed here in full dialogue” (TOB 108:5).

Enchanted by the Body

In the Song, a wonder, admiration, and fascination similar to Adam’s runs “in a peaceful and even wave from the beginning to the end of the poem” (TOB 108:5).   And just like Genesis, the “point of departure as well as the point of arrival for this fascination–reciprocal wonder and admiration–are in fact the bride’s femininity and the bridegroom’s masculinity, in the direct experience of their visibility.” The body reveals the person and the body summons them to love. Thus, their words of love are “concentrated on the ‘body’” (TOB 108:6). Fascination with the human body in its masculinity and femininity–often considered innately prurient (having excessive interest in sexual matters)–is here, in the Bible’s Song of Songs, a means “for training in righteousness” (2 Tim 3:16), that is, for training in love.   Lust has certainly distorted our vision and our sentiments. Yet, when we tap into that deep well of human desire and fascination that remains beyond the distortions of lust, we discover that our attraction to the body is God-given.   And, behold, it is very good (see Gen 1:31).  Sin and lust do not define us.   Throughout the TOB, John Paul II insists that the heritage of our hearts “is deeper than the sinfulness inherited.”   And the good news is that Christ came to “re-activate that deepest inheritance and give it real power in human life” (TOB 46:6).   The lovers in the Song witness beautifully to the God-given glory of sexual attraction, desire, and union.

A Heartfelt Look

Of course attraction to the body in an integral sense must always be and always is attraction to a person. It is a vision of another person not only with the eyes but with the heart. A look determines the heart within the one who looks, and it determines whether or not he sees the heart of the person at whom he looks.   To the degree that one’s heart is pure, so is his look.   And to the degree that a person looks with purity of heart, he sees not just a body, but somebody. In the inspired duet of this Song, the lovers not only “look” at each other.   They see each other.   Their attraction towards the other’s body is an attraction toward the other person.   And seeing the other person, they do not use the person as an object of egoistic gratification. Rather, as John Paul says, this attraction which lingers directly and immediately on the body generates love in the inner impulse of the heart (see TOB 108:6).  How can we ensure that our attraction to the body inspires love and not mere lust?   As we continue our reflections on the Song of Songs in future articles, John Paul II will give us some keen insights. We will look now at the lover’s expression, “A garden locked is my sister, my bride, a garden closed, a fountain sealed” (Song of Songs 4:12).  Before I present some of John Paul’s ideas, I should alert you that — like many other mystics who have commented on the Song of Songs — John Paul’s intimate reflections may scandalize some.   But such “scandal” only points to how deeply we are in need of reclaiming the holiness of sexuality.   That’s the precise goal of John Paul II’s TOB.   It is certainly not  to titillate, but to sublimate — to show how sublime, how holy the union of husband and wife truly is.

The Sister, the Bride, the Mystery

John Paul first comments on the importance of the lover calling his beloved “sister” before calling her “bride.” This demonstrates that the lover respects her as a person who shares the same humanity.   It demonstrates that his desire for her as “bride” is not one of lust but of love.  The normal man recoils at the idea of lusting after his sister — and so should a man recoil at the thought of lusting after his bride.   Marriage, after all, does not justify a man using his wife as an object for his pleasure.   Marital intercourse is meant to express divine love, not base animal instinct. It’s precisely the lover’s recognition of his wife as “sister” that allows him to approach her with selfless tenderness (see TOB 110:2).  The groom demonstrates the genuine character of his love all the more with the expressions “garden closed” and “fountain sealed.” These indicate, as John Paul II poignantly observes, that the “bride presents herself to the eyes of the man as the master of her own mystery” (TOB 110:7). The groom must respect the fact that he cannot dominate or control his bride.   She is in control of her own person; she is master of her own “mystery.”  The point is that authentic love affords a certain “entering” into the mystery of the other person without ever violating the person (see TOB 111:1). If a person’s “love” violates the one loved, then it is not love and should not be called love.   It is love’s counterfeit — lust. If the lover is to enter this “garden” and participate in the woman’s mystery, he cannot barge in or break down the door.   Nor can he manipulate her into surrendering the key.   If he is to respect his beloved as “master of her own mystery,” all the lover can do is “knock at the door” and respectfully await her response.

Self-Giving Love: the Key that Unlocks the Mystery

The lover in the Song initiates the gift, making his desire clear: “Open to me, my sister, my love” (Song of Songs 5:2).   And she hears him: “Listen, my beloved is knocking” (5:2).   But he puts “his hand to the latch” (5:4) only with her freely given “yes” — given without any hint of being coerced or manipulated. In total freedom, she surrenders to him; she opens her garden to him, making it his: “Awake, O north wind, and come, O south wind! Blow upon my garden, let its fragrance be wafted abroad.   Let my beloved come to his garden, and eat its choicest fruits” (4:16). Thus, as John Paul II observes, in the course of their dialogue, “the ‘garden closed’ opens up in some way before the eyes of the bridegroom’s soul and body” (TOB 111:4). And with profound reverence, he beholds her mystery unveiled. He comes to her delighting in her gift, remaining ever in awe of her freely opened mystery: “I come to my garden, my sister, my bride, I gather my myrrh with my spice, I eat my honeycomb with my honey, I drink my wine with my milk” (5:1).  In response to those who consider this erotic poetry “profane,” we must recall that this is God’s word.   As John Paul says, the Song of Songs reveals an “essential sign of holiness” (TOB 109:2). Lord, please teach us the true meaning of holiness!   Please restore in our hearts your true plan for the love of man and woman.   Amen. The Song of Songs has been commented on by more saints and mystics than any other book in the Bible.   Volumes and volumes have been written about this divinely inspired erotic poetry.   Over the past several articles we’ve looked at only a few of its treasures.   Much more could — and should — be said.

Marriage: Love Stronger Than Death

In his Theology of the Body (TOB), John Paul II observed that in the course of their loving duet, the bride “opens” her garden “before the eyes of the bridegroom’s soul and body” (TOB 111:4).   He reverently enters, and their love is finally consummated.  In this way “the man and the woman together … constitute the sign of the reciprocal gift of self, which sets the seal on their whole life” (TOB 111:5). Consummation of the marriage is the specific moment in which the marriage bond becomes absolutely indissoluble by anything but death.   This is the power  and meaning  of sexual intercourse as God designed it.   Sexual intercourse has a “language” that proclaims: “I am totally yours unto death.   I belong to you and you to me until death do us part.” It’s not just that sex belongs “in” marriage.   Rather, it’s that sex — as God designed it — has an inherently marital meaning.   That’s why sexual intercourse is called the marital embrace.   Sex is only what it’s meant to be when it expresses a love that is “strong as death.”   The bride confirms her knowledge of this when she says, “Set me as a seal upon your heart…for love is strong as death….Its flashes are flashes of fire, a most vehement flame.   Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it” (8:6-7).  John Paul says that these words bring us to “the peak” of the Song’s declaration of love.   They seem to present the final chords of the Song, the “final chords in the ‘language of the body’.”   When we read that “love is strong as death” we discover “the closure and crowning of everything in the Song of Songs that begins with the metaphor ‘garden closed’ and ‘fountain sealed’” (TOB 111:6). With these words, the lover had presented himself to his beloved not as one superficially attracted to her body.   Rather, he presented himself as one who was captivated and fascinated by her entire mystery as a woman, as one ready to uphold the whole personal dignity of her sex, as one desirous of honoring her as a feminine person, as a sister and a bride — unto death.  Here we see that a woman can only open her “garden” to her lover and remain inviolate if she is assured that he is ready and willing to commit his entire life to her, if she is assured that he has set her as a seal upon his heart, if she is assured that his love will be strong as death.   The love that is strong as death is called “marriage.”

STOP! In the Name of Love…

Do you remember that 1960’s song by the Shirelles, “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow”?   Listen to these poignant lyrics:   “Is this a lasting treasure, or just a moment’s pleasure?   Tonight the look of love is in your eyes.   But will you love me tomorrow?”   — Oh the ache in the feminine heart!!   If any woman reading this column ever finds herself wondering the same thing when a man is putting the moves on her, here’s the song you should be singing: “Stop, in the name of love, before you break my heart!”   And every man out there should “think it o-o-ver….” The Church does not impose on us the idea that love should be permanent.   Permanence is what the heart longs for.   In her teaching that sex is meant to express permanent love (that is, marital love), the Church is simply inviting us to be true to the “song” that wells up from the deepest recesses of our souls.   Listen to it!   It is the Song of Songs….

Reflections on the body, the Ascension, and Pentecost

By: Christopher West

In the joyous Easter season, the Church sets her sights on the celebration of Christ’s ascension into heaven and his sending of the Holy Spirit on Mary and the Apostles.  I’d like to reflect on what the feasts of the Ascension and Pentecost teach us about our own mystery as incarnate human beings.

The Problem of Spiritualism  

In his book The Nuptial Mystery, Angelo Cardinal Scola, the Patriarch of Venice, writes: “I believe that one of the most serious temptations that besets Christians today is spiritualism.   What I mean is the often unintentional but nevertheless serious way some people have of looking at Christ’s ascension as a disincarnation.   It is fairly common,” the Cardinal continues, “even among Christians, to find the practical belief that, ultimately, the event of Christ does not succeed in being present materially in the here and now of history.   Jesus Christ… is treated like a fact of the past!”  There are so many important points to mine from the Cardinal Scola’s observations.

First, so many of us are prone to “spiritualism.”   We have inadvertently “disincarnated” the Christian mystery.   So many of us consider “holiness” to involve living a “spiritual” life cut off from our bodies.   Christian “spirituality,” Christian holiness, is always an embodied spirituality, an embodied holiness.  To cut off our spiritual lives from our bodily lives is to render Christ’s incarnation meaningless in our lives.   When St. Paul says “live by the spirit and not by the flesh” (see Gal 5:16-26) he is not saying we should reject our bodies in favor of the spirit.   He’s saying we should welcome the indwelling of the Holy Spirit in our bodies so that what we do with our bodies will be in-spired by God.   We are to incarnate God’s life.   We are to offer our bodies to God as a spiritual act of worship (see Rom 12).

Christ was Somebody

Christ took on a body to redeem our bodies.   Christ was raised from the dead bodily and ascended into the glory of heaven bodily so that our entire incarnate humanity might be taken with him into the eternal life of the Trinity.   And this is the essential link between Christ’s Ascension and Pentecost.   Christ told us that his sending of the Holy Spirit was dependent upon his ascension to the Father.   “I tell you the truth; it is to your advantage that I go away, for if I do not go away, the Counselor will not come to you; but if I go, I will send him to you” (Jn 16:7).   Christ had to take our humanity up into the life of the Trinity for us to be able to share in that life which is what Pentecost is all about.

A professor of mine once explained Pentecost not so much as the descent of the Holy Spirit on us, but as the sure sign that, in Christ, our incarnate humanity had already been taken up into the life of the Trinity.   Pentecost — our sharing in the life of the Holy Spirit — is the effect, then, of the Lord’s bodily Ascension into heaven.   Because of Pentecost, the Catechism says that those who believe in Christ “already share in the communion of the Holy Trinity” — and we do so “in the humility of the flesh” (CCC, n. 732).

As Cardinal Scola observed, when we disincarnate Christ’s ascension, Jesus becomes merely an event of the past.   He has no way of being materially present to us in the here and now.   Christ’s bodily ascension, on the other hand, allows him to be materially present to us here and now.   How so?   By the sending of the Holy Spirit who, just as he overshadowed Mary to bring about the mystery of the Incarnation, continues to communicate Christ’s bodily presence to us in the mystery of the Church’s sacraments.  The bodily, physical realities of the sacraments communicate ultimate Spiritual reality to us.   This is the logic of Christianity, which is the logic of the Incarnation, brought to us courtesy of the Lord’s bodily Ascension and the sending of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost.

A Reflection on Sin and Mercy

By: Christopher West

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I would like to reflect on a really bad three-letter word that rarely gets mentioned anymore: sin.   We needn’t fear this word so long as we never talk about it, think about it, or otherwise acknowledge it outside the context of its five-letter antidote: mercy.  In a world that has lost a sense of sin, one sin remains: Thou shalt not make people feel guilty (except, of course, about making people feel guilty).   In other words, the only sin today is to remind people about sin, or to call something a sin.   Those who call sin sin aren’t “tolerant.”   They fail in the “respect for ‘diversity’ department.”

As an aside, have you ever noticed that those who preach “tolerance” are often quite intolerant of anyone who doesn’t think like they do?   Have you ever noticed that those who insist on an uncritical respect for “diversity” are often quite critical and disrespectful of those who diverge from their point of view?  The Christian remedy for guilt is not to wish sin away in the name of “tolerance” and “diversity.”   The Christian remedy for guilt is to abandon oneself with total confidence to God’s mercy.

But I’m not convinced that the majority of Catholics today really believe in God’s mercy.   We say we do, but do we?   If we really believed in God’s mercy, why are we so quick to rationalize sin rather than admit it, confess it, and be forgiven?  In my experience speaking to Catholic audiences around the country, it seems many of us still believe that our eternal destiny will be determined by a scale weighing our good works against our sins.   If this is the case, we simply can’t afford to admit the amount of sin in our lives.   The implications are too devastating.   So we rationalize our sin and continue to comfort ourselves by recalling that we’re not nearly as bad as “those really nasty sinners down the street.”

We are Repentant, God is Merciful

Where is the death and resurrection of Jesus in this view of salvation?   If we are convinced we’re going to heaven because, well, “I’m a good person,” what do we need a savior for?  To counter this notion of the tipping scales, a wise retreat-master once explained judgment to me as follows.   Each of us will be “on trial” before God the Father, the eternal judge.   The prosecuting attorney, the devil, will be listing all our sins one by one.   All those things the deceiver convinced us where good in this life he will now throw in our face as evidence against us, snarling with certainty as he does, “Guilty… guilty …guilty.”

Knowing we are indeed guilty, we will have no defense, unless… unless we have paid the proper fee to the only defense attorney who can save us from our fate.   The defense attorney, of course, is Jesus.   The fee: our very lives.   If in this life we have abandoned ourselves entirely to Christ, on judgment day, he will wrap us in his blood stained cloak, and every time the devil snarls, “Guilty… guilty… guilty,” Christ will look to his Father and proclaim, “Forgiven… forgiven… forgiven.”

There is only one unforgivable sin.   Christ called it blaspheming the Holy Spirit, which is none other than the refusal to admit we need God’s mercy.   In other words, the only unforgivable sin is the obstinate rationalization of sin.   “If we say we have no sin we deceive ourselves…. If we confess our sins, he …will forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 Jn 1:8-9).

One final thought: God loves us not in spite of the misery of our sin.   It is our misery, in fact, as Father d’Elbee observes in his marvelous book I Believe in Love, that attracts God’s mercy.   Mercy in Latin – misericordia – actually means “a heart which gives itself to those in misery.”

Eros and Agape: A look at Benedict XVI's "God is Love"

By: Christopher West

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In his Encyclical entitled God is Love (promulgated Christmas day, but officially released January 25th 2006) Pope Benedict wants to proclaim to the world that the Church — despite all the supposed anti-sex sentiment — has a vision of erotic love far more glorious than anything Sigmund Freud, Hugh Hefner, Dr. Ruth, or Howard Stern could dream or imagine.

His words are tender, firm, clear, compassionate, and poetic.     The text reads like the letter of a loving father to his children, presenting an invitation to men and women everywhere to open their hearts to the love that truly satisfies.   So many of us have searched in vain for love in this pornified world.   We’ve eaten out of a dumpster in attempts to satisfy our hunger.   Without wagging a finger at anyone, Pope Benedict’s encyclical presents the banquet of love we’re made for.

Introducing the Two Loves

He divides the letter into two main parts.   The first part, in which he explores the relationship between erotic and divine love — eros and agape in Greek — is more “speculative,” he says (in the sense that he is offering a prayerful meditation, not that he’s giving us half-baked theories).   Based on these meditations, the second part of the letter offers a “more concrete” treatment of how the Church is called to exercise the commandment of love of neighbor and work for a just social order.

As Benedict insists, these two main parts are “profoundly interconnected.”   There’s no place here for a false division between Church teaching on sexual ethics and social justice.   If we want to work for social justice, we must first do justice to the fundamental social unit — the relationship of man and woman and the family that springs from their love.  Does the Catholic Church do justice to the love of man and woman?   Benedict observes that Christianity is often criticized for being opposed to the body and sex.   While he admits such tendencies have always existed, the Pope demonstrates that negativity toward the body and sex is, in all truth, foreign to authentic Christian belief and practice.

Christianity does not “blow the whistle” on erotic love.   It seeks to rescue it from degradation, to “heal it and restore its true grandeur,” says Benedict.   The “contemporary way of exalting the body is deceptive. Eros, reduced to pure ‘sex’, has become a commodity, a mere ‘thing’ to be bought and sold, or rather, man himself becomes a commodity. This is hardly man’s great ‘yes’ to the body.”

Reclaiming Erotic Love Through Divine Love

In order to restore erotic love’s true grandeur, we must experience the purification of eros by agape.   As this happens — that is, as we allow erotic love to be informed and transformed by divine love — eros  is able “to provide not just fleeting pleasure, but a certain foretaste of the pinnacle of our existence, of that beatitude for which our whole being yearns,” Benedict states.  What joy!   Sexual love in God’s plan is so glorious that it is meant to provide a small foretaste of the eternal joys that await us in heaven.   But beware the counterfeits.   “An intoxicated and undisciplined eros,” as the Holy Father observes, “is not an ascent in ‘ecstasy’ towards the Divine, but a fall, a degradation of man.”

Love is indeed “ecstasy,” the Pope tells us.   But not in a hedonistic sense.   If ecstasy means “to go out of oneself,” then love is ecstasy as “an ongoing exodus out of the closed inward-looking self towards its liberation through self-giving, and thus towards authentic self-discovery and indeed the discovery of God.”

Pope Benedict’s encyclical makes a person proud to be Catholic.   Does any other religion on the planet have such an ennobling view of the human person and of sexual love?   If we have any right to boast, we boast only in Christ, in his love for us and in what he has revealed to us about the meaning of being human.  Benedict XVI didn’t come up with this.   He’s just passing along in love what the Church has received from her Bridegroom.   As Benedict himself states, “eros… seeks God and agape… passes on the gift received.”