Consider This (Part I)

by Chris Findley, Editor, H2R

Not long ago I was in the waiting room at my dentist’s office.  As I was thumbing through the only magazine available, which unfortunately was “Ladies Home Journal”, I noticed that the man sitting across from me was watching me.  He looked vaguely familiar and I think I looked familiar to him.  We sat there for an awkward moment until we simultaneously realized that we did indeed know each other.  He had come to a Bible study I had led when I was an Episcopal priest.  I hadn’t seen him in a few years, certainly not since my family’s conversion to Catholicism.  As we caught up, he noted the obvious lack of my black clerical shirt I had worn as minister and he asked if it were my day off.  This opened the door to tell him a little of my journey to Catholicism.

He seemed to enjoy the conversation and yet he seemed a bit mystified as to why someone would join the Catholic Church.  As I talked I could see the “look”.  It’s a look that I’ve grown used to seeing when I talk about the Catholic Church with non-Catholics.  It’s a look that says, “I’ll listen because it’s polite, but I really think you are crazy.”  I realized too, that sometimes my explanation rambles, moves from event to event without the benefit of filling in crucial gaps in thinking that were bridged by my study of the Church.  In the end, he was very kind and we parted company on good terms.  But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I wish I had answered better than I did.  I began to ask myself, “What were the things that really motivated me to move deeper into the life of the Church?”  So I offer the following ideas as an answer to that question.  I also offer them to you, for your own investigation of Catholicism.

Scripture
As an Evangelically trained Anglican, Scripture was of utmost importance to me.  I had (and still have) a deep and profound love of the Bible and readily ascribe to its authority in the life of a Christian.  I had always assumed that the Catholic Church was full of unbiblical (contrary to the Bible) or at least extra-Biblical (added to the Bible) practices and beliefs.  I know I was not alone in that conviction.  But that conviction was rooted in caricatures and stereotypes, not in actual knowledge of what the Catholic Church teaches.

I began to see that the church’s doctrine on many things that seemed strange to me actually had a Biblical basis.  Everything from the Papacy to marriage to baptism to the saints finds its roots in scripture.  And perhaps the most important thing for me was the realization that the Reformation doctrine of “sola scriptura” (by Scripture alone) is false.  I had grown to realize that even those churches that really strive to hold to the notion of “Scripture Alone” have had a hard time doing so.  Luther had his catechism which held authority for the Lutherans. Calvin had his Institutes which held a particular traditional authority as well.  If all these reformers needed was Scripture alone, why then bother with writing such works?  Additionally I became increasingly bothered by the idea of private interpretation.  Of course everyone can and should be encouraged to engage in reading the Bible.  However, there has to be some sort of authority in its final interpretation.  Do we not see evidence of fragmentation and fracturing in the various denominations because they each believe they have the authority to interpret scripture on their own?   With each split we see Scripture used as justification for that split, “But we’re being faithful to the Bible.”

In my own teaching as a pastor, I noticed that I was using the phrase, “The Church has always taught that…”  One priest friend (who had become Catholic) gently asked me, “Chris, what church are you talking about when you say that?”

I realized I was talking about the Catholic Church.

The Communion of Saints

from Catholics United for the Faith

All in the Family – The Communion of Saints

Issue: What is the communion of saints?

Discussion: The communion of saints is the intimate union that exists among all the disciples of Christ. This communion is known as the Mystical Body of Christ: the Family of God consisting of the faithful on earth (the Church Militant or pilgrim Church), the holy souls in purgatory undergoing spiritual cleansing (the Church Suffering), and the saints in heaven (the Church Triumphant). This union of believers joins us in Christ, our source of grace and life, and calls us to love and pray for one another as members of His body. Therefore, we can ask for the prayers of the saints in heaven, and we can also pray for people on earth and those in purgatory (Catechism, nos. 946-62).

The doctrine of the communion of saints was taught by the apostles, both in the Scriptures and the Tradition they handed down in words and practice. It is explicitly contained in the Apostles’ Creed. The Church reaffirmed this teaching at the Second Council of Nicea (787) and further addressed it at the Councils of Florence (1438-45), Trent (1545-63), and Vatican II (1962-65).

This communion refers to the bond of unity among the followers of Christ. Such a bond is possible because, as believers in Christ, we become children of God (1 Jn. 3:1), members of His family (Rom. 8:14-17), with divine life bestowed on us through Baptism (Jn. 3:3-5). The apostles teach us that through Baptism we become “fellow heirs with Christ” (Rom. 8:17) and “partakers of the divine nature” (2 Pet. 1:4). Saint Paul states that this union of the faithful, brought about by the Holy Spirit in Baptism, is so complete that we are actually members of a single body, Christ’s own body (cf. 1 Cor. 12:12-27).

Continue Reading at CUF.org >>>

The Latest On the Shelf…

I came across Michael Novak’s new book the other day and promptly purchased a copy.  I had been surfing the net and found a sample online and loved it.   Yesterday he was interviewed by Laura Ingram and I was so impressed that I went ahead and bought the book.  I’ve only made it through the Preface and Introduction, but so far I am absolutely loving it.  It is very well written and well thought out.  It respectfully and humbly deals with the “dark night” we all face.   It offers a way for believers and skeptics to converse respectfully and it offers a strong return to reason, divine and sanctified reason, which has been all but abandoned in many Christian circles.  If you’re looking for a uplifting and thought-provoking book to really sink your teeth into, get this one:  No One Sees God, by Michael Novak.

Here’s what Peggy Noonan had to say about it:

“This book is one of the most lyrical and moving reflections on God I have encountered. It is also remarkably generous, both to believers and nonbelievers. Most helpfully it is about how to pray, and how to suffer through the dark night in which answers, and communication, seem absent. A remarkable book by a remarkable man.” – Peggy Noonan

First Things Interview with Novak

Take a look yourself.   Chris, Ed., H2R

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From the Introduction, “No One Sees God’ by Michael Novak

This text/link is from http://catholiceducation.org

Just as I was writing this book, Christians and non-Christians alike wrote to question me about the meaning of Mother Teresa’s forty-five years of inner emptiness, feeling “neither joy, nor love, nor light . . . and on a darkling plain.” The experience of this darkness is common to all, believer and unbeliever. The fact that Mother Teresa experienced it surprised many people, friend and foe. It should not have. But it did.

In a way that has startled many readers today, Mother Teresa revealed her own darkness in confidential letters written to her spiritual directors during the long time that she suffered from it. Since these letters necessarily became part of the inquiry required for the process of canonization, and since this process would become public fairly soon, an editor was charged with putting them together in a book for the general public. The point of picking out an outstanding Christian in a public way as a “saint” is to shed light on one unique way in which the gospel of Jesus Christ was realized in history. We learn a great deal from the lives of others. There is a “community of spirit,” which is also a community of those who have experienced the common darkness.

Many of my correspondents had not recognized Mother Teresa’s inability to sense the presence of God, and the inner agony in which this left her. All they had seen was her amazing smile, as if she felt God’s love in her heart (when in fact her heart felt empty) during long days and nights when she brought tenderness to abandoned persons dying in the streets of Calcutta. If she couldn’t find God, why did she go on believing in Him? Why did she go on bringing tender care to the abandoned, when she herself felt so abandoned?

Some atheists, such as my friend Christopher Hitchens, now gloat that Mother Teresa was just an unbeliever like the rest of “us.” But few atheists — and, alas, not many believers — understand the depths of the interior life of Jewish and Christian faith. They don’t understand that it is a never-ending struggle. In the Talmud, Moses points to the vision God has shown him of the great Rabbi Akiba viciously tortured to death by the Romans. Moses says to God, “Master of the Universe,” “This is Torah and this is the reward?” And God can only say, “Quiet! This too has occurred to me.” Biblical faith demands putting childhood behind, and adolescence, and the busyness of young adulthood. It requires an appetite for bravery — for going into unknown territories alone to wrestle against inner demons, and a willingness to experience darkness, if darkness comes. Faith is not for those who seek only man-made pleasures.

I had one tiny reason for feeling especially close to Mother Teresa from the first time I heard of her. My younger brother Richard was also a missionary to Bengali speakers, as Mother was. But Richard did his work across the ocean from Calcutta, in Dhaka, then part of east Pakistan. Two years after he arrived there, as he was setting out by bicycle on a mission of mercy during the cruel Hindu-Muslim riots of January 1964, Dick was knifed to death by a group of young men who seized his bicycle and his wristwatch. He was twenty-seven years old. They threw his body into a river already thick with corpses.

Dick’s favorite saint was Saint Thérèse of Lisieux (1873-1897), a frail Carmelite nun, the most beloved of all Catholic saints, second only to Saint Francis of Assisi. (I have only once in years of traveling around the world found a Catholic church without some depiction of her.) Saint Thérèse lived for most of her adult life in utter darkness and dryness and abandonment by her divine Lover. She wrote an autobiography about her experience, and how it led her to interpret the inner heart of Christianity. So powerfully and clearly did she write that Pope John Paul II inscribed her name among the historic handful of “Doctors of the Church” — teachers so profound and so sweeping in their wisdom that they instruct the whole Catholic people.

The canonization of Saint Thérèse in 1925 was at that time one of the swiftest on record. Miracles attributed to her care and her attention to the needy — which she promised she would “shower down” from heaven — were too many to count. As early as the war of 1914, Thérèse was the favorite saint of French soldiers in the trenches, held by them coequal with Saint Jeanne d’Arc. And so she remains today, this twenty-four-year-old victim of consumption, who after the age of fifteen never set foot outside her cloistered contemplative convent — with Jeanne d’Arc copatroness of France.

The kernel of Saint Thérèse’s teaching is often called “the little way,” meaning that no Christian is too humble or too insignificant to follow it and no thought or action too negligible to infuse with love. In other words, God cherishes not only great actions of love, but also minor, childlike ones. No matter what spiritual darkness you find yourself in, choose as your North Star a tender love of the persons that life’s contingencies have put next to you. Do not go looking around for more fascinating neighbors to love. Love those right nearest you.

You cannot see God, even if you try. But you can see your neighbor, the tedious one, who grinds on you: Love him, love her. As Jesus loves them. Give them the tender smile of Jesus, even though your own feelings be like the bottom of a bird cage. Do not ask to see Jesus, or to feel Him. That is for children. Love him in the dark. Love for the invisible divine, not for the warm and comforting human consolation. Love for the sake of love, not in order to feel loved in return.

It happens that Agnes Bojaxhiu of Albania eventually became a missionary nun in Ireland, and chose for her religious name Thérèse, in the footsteps of her patron saint of darkness from Lisieux. In Spanish, the same name is Teresa, and Saint Teresa of Avila (1515-1582), Doctor of the Church, builder of scores of convents of Carmelite nuns all over Europe — administrator and guide extraordinaire, and a canny operator in bureaucracies, running rings around most of the male hierarchy of her time — was also an experienced traveler in inner darkness. Saint Thérèse of Lisieux took the name Teresa as an honor, and followed her in her way, as inscribed in Teresa’s books and in the traditions of the Carmelites. (Pope John Paul II was a close follower of the Carmelites.)

For those who love God, that way is excruciating. They would like to feel close to God, but they find — nothing! Like Saint John of the Cross, Teresa gradually came to see that if God were a human invention, a human contrivance, then warm human feelings would be quite enough. But God is far greater than that. He is beyond any human frequency. He is outside our range, divine. One must follow Him without any human prop whatever, even warm and comfortable inner feelings. That may be why Jesus loved the desert as a place for prayer.

Continue Reading the Introduction Online>>>

Synod of Bishops to Focus on the Bible

Vatican, Jun. 12, 2008 (CWNews.com) – The Synod of Bishops, meeting in Rome in October 2008, will discuss ways to promote the prayerful reading, understanding, and proclamation of the Word of God.

At a Vatican press conference on June 12, Archbishop Nikola Eterovic, the secretary-general of the Synod of Bishops, introduced the instrumentum laboris, the working document, for the October Synod meeting, which is dedicated to a discussion of the Word of God. The archbishop explained that the Synod discussions will have “a pastoral and missionary character,” with a focus on use of Scripture to spur Christian evangelization.

The Church should combat widespread “Biblical illiteracy” among the Catholic faithful, Archbishop Eterovic said. At the same time, the Synod will discuss the challenge posed by fundamental sects that promote misleading interpretations of the Scriptures. The instrumentum laboris focuses on a balanced approach to the Scriptures, reading the Bible carefully and relying on the authoritative guidance of the Church magisterium.

The Bible, the instrumentum laboris emphasizes, must be understood as the work of the Holy Spirit, a gift to Christ’s Church. Reading the Scriptures in that light, observes the Preface of the working document, “leads from the the letter to the spirit and from the words to the Word of God.” This prayerful approach is essential to avoid misinterpretations, the document continues, explaining: “Indeed, the words often conceal their true meaning, especially when considered from the literary and cultural point of view of the inspired authors and their way of understanding the world and its laws.”

Archbishop Eterovic noted that this year’s meeting, the 12th ordinary assembly of the Synod of Bishops, will convene after the inauguration of a special year dedicated to the memory of St. Paul. That Pauline year “will not fail to arouse a renewed missionary drive in the Church,” he predicted.

The instrumentum laboris for the Synod meeting bears, as its title, the theme chosen for this year’s meeting: The Word of God in the life and Mission of the Church. The document was been released in English, French, Spanish, Italian, German, Portuguese, and Polish; the full text of the instrumentum laboris is available on the Vatican web site.

The working document is divided into three major sections. The first examines the meaning of the term the “Word of God,” and the relationships among Scripture, tradition, and the magisterium. The second explores the understanding and interpretation of the Bible, and the proper approach to reading the Word of God and using the Scripture in the liturgy and daily prayer. The third discusses the role of the Word of God in the life of the Church, considering the mission of evangelization, formation of clergy and laity, ecumenical outreach, and inter-religious dialogue. “An attentive listening to the Word is fundamental to a personal encounter with God,” a concluding passage of the instrumentum laboris says. “No one can fathom the depths of the Word of God. However, only in the previously mentioned manner can the Word take hold of and convert a person, making him discover its riches and secrets, widening his horizons and promising freedom and full human development.”

The Chapman Tragedy and the Question of Suffering

by Chris Findley

The above video features the song, “With Hope” that Steven wrote for his album “Speechless” (1999).

THE QUESTIONS
On May 21 we were deeply saddened to hear of the accidental death of five-year-old Maria Chapman, daughter of well-known Christian singer Steven Curtis Chapman. My wife and I live just outside of Nashville and it seems that the entire city has been in mourning for this little girl and her family. Newspapers and blogs are overflowing with questions: How this could happen to such a “spiritual” family? How can God be considered “good” or “loving” when He allows this type of thing to happen? Moments like these cause many of the questions we normally keep suppressed to show themselves. Our society normally removes itself from any meaningful discussion of suffering. But this tragic event should cause us to reflect for a moment on the Catholic response to suffering. What are some of the ways Catholics approach the mystery of suffering and how do we find meaning and hope in its midst?

The question of how a “good” God can allow such horrible things has haunted mankind for thousands of years. Although the most famous (and often misunderstood) is Job, the Bible is full of people who experience great tragedy in the midst of this life, even while serving God. Think not only of Job, but of Joseph who was sold into slavery by his jealous brothers. Think of the innocents slaughtered at the hands of Herod as he sought to kill the Christ child. Think of Stephen, the Church’s first martyr, stoned not for a crime but for his faith. Of course we need to look upon the cross and see the bruised and bloodied man upon it and reflect on the harsh truth that being a Christian does not shield one from suffering and pain.

And yet we wonder. We ache for an answer. Why does this happen? Something within us knows that it shouldn’t.

SALVIFICI DOLORIS: A RESPONSE
Salvifici Doloris (The Christian Meaning of Suffering) by Pope John Paul II is one of the most helpful things written on suffering and the Christian. And as we grieve with the Chapman family, Salvifici Doloris can offer hope and strength as we face our own questions.

One of the beautiful things of SD is how it affirms the very question of “Why?” We are not chastised for wondering, for struggling, for longing for meaning in the midst of suffering:

“Whereas the existence of the world opens as it were the eyes of the human soul to the existence of God, to his wisdom, power and greatness, evil and suffering seem to obscure this image, sometimes in a radical way, especially in the daily drama of so many cases of undeserved suffering and of so many faults without proper punishment. So this circumstance shows–perhaps more than any other–the importance of the question of the meaning of suffering; it also shows how much care must be taken both in dealing with the question itself and with all possible answers to it.” (SD, 2, 9)

Job is the first order example of dealing with the question of suffering, particularly because of his innocence. The reader of Job is confronted early on with the paradox that this man is suffering and does not deserve it. One of the first and oldest explanation for pain is punishment. There is a part of us that understands the argument of justice. But that argument is not always applicable, right or helpful. Pain and suffering are not limited to the unrepentant and disobedient. Pope John Paul notes, “While it is true that suffering has a meaning as punishment, when it is connected with a fault, it is not true that all suffering is a consequence of a fault and has the nature of a punishment.” (SD, 2, 11)

The hard truth is that Job really doesn’t answer the question. At the end of Job his suffering is not explained. His innocence is vindicated. The friends who wanted to condemn him are chastised. But God does not explain “why”. For Pope John Paul II, the why would come later. It would be revealed at the cross.

BEGIN WITH THE CROSS
So the reflection on our suffering does not begin with us, but with Christ. We are called to look upon the life death, and yes, the suffering of Jesus if we are to deal with our own pain. Suffering, we must see, is not just a natural consequence of the cross, but the point of the cross. We are challenged to see that what actually achieves our salvation is his suffering.

“Precisely by means of this suffering he must bring it about “that man should not perish, but have eternal life”. Precisely by means of his Cross he must strike at the roots of evil, planted in the history of man and in human souls. Precisely by means of his Cross he must accomplish the work of salvation.” (SD, 4, 16)

When we seek to understand our suffering we look at the Cross of Christ and consider that the cross, “proves the truth of love through the truth of suffering.” (SD, 4, 18 ) Pope John Paul continues,

“Human suffering has reached its culmination in the Passion of Christ. And at the same time it has entered into a completely new dimension and a new order: it has been linked to love, to that love of which Christ spoke to Nicodemus, to that love which creates good, drawing it out by means of suffering, just as the supreme good of the Redemption of the world was drawn from the Cross of Christ, and from that Cross constantly takes its beginning.” (SD, 4, 18 )

How does this help us with the question at hand, namely our own suffering?

HUMAN SUFFERING REDEEMED
It helps us by showing us not only that God shares in the suffering of humanity, but that by his own suffering he has redeemed our suffering. We understand that through the cross and suffering of Christ he participates in our suffering. But also, Pope John Paul II reminds us that through our suffering we participate in the suffering of Christ. This is not a new idea but one we see reflected in the words of Scripture:

“We are afflicted in every way, but not constrained; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying about in the body the dying of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our body.” (2 Cor 4:7-11)

“For as Christ’s sufferings overflow to us, so through Christ does our encouragement also overflow.” (2 Cor. 1:5)

“I urge you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God, your spiritual worship.” (Rom 12:1)

Our suffering then is not meaningless, but overflowing with meaning as it is connected with the very suffering of Jesus. By the cross, we are able to become participants in the suffering of Christ and the experience of suffering is not only given dignity but power:

“All human sufferings are capable of being infused with the same power of God manifested in Christ’s Cross. In such a concept, to suffer means to become particularly susceptible, particularly open to the working of the salvific powers of God, offered to humanity in Christ.” (SD, 5, 23)

POWER INSTEAD OF HOPELESSNESS
God truly acts through our suffering, speaks through it, strengthens us through it, and displays his power through it. This is what he did through the cross. When we begin to view suffering in this way our trials and tragedies are rescued from the curse of meaninglessness; of not only being painful but hopeless. This always underlies our frustration and hurt. Yet here we see that God is at work through suffering, redeeming it, displaying His power in it. Has he not told us that his power is shown in our weakness? “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.” I will rather boast most gladly of my weaknesses, in order that the power of Christ may dwell with me.” (2 Cor 12:9)

And in our suffering, and in our witness of the suffering of others, we certainly experience our own weakness. We know in a very finite way, our need of God. In these moments we look and strain for the hand of God. The counsel of the saints through the ages is that when we search for God in the midst of suffering we will find him. For he is not outside suffering, but within it. Constantly within the Gospels we see Jesus dealing with the suffering of others with words of compassion and miracles. So much of his earthly ministry was to alleviate suffering and redeem it for the Kingdom of God. Jesus promises his followers that suffering will come their way. If we understand suffering and its intricate connection to the cross our experience of suffering, while no less painful, is redeemed. Jesus answers our pain from the experience of his own pain which is the ultimate display of his love. Love reaches out to us in the midst of pain.

“The Gospel of suffering is being written unceasingly, and it speaks unceasingly with the words of this strange paradox: the springs of divine power gush forth precisely in the midst of human weakness.” (SD, VI, 27)

THE LOVE OF GOD
In the case of the Chapman’s we are left with no truly satisfactory answer to the question of “Why?” In Christlike compassion we should avoid clichés and superficial answers. Instead I believe our call is to “weep with those who weep” and like our Lord, enter into their suffering with our prayers. Savifici Doloris reminds us, we should understand that the cross is the backdrop for all our suffering, including the Chapman’s. And it is through the cross and because of the cross that we can rest with certainty in the Love of God.

Chris Findley is a former Episcopal clergyman and convert to the Catholic Church. In addition to freelance writing, he teaches theology at Pope John Paul II High School in Hendersonville, Tennessee. He has written for numerous publications and his articles have appeared in the U.S. and England. Chris’ blog, home2rome.wordpress.com, encourages exploration of the Catholic Church. He and his wife Sheryl and their 2 sons Aidan and Evan live outside Nashville.

A Convert’s Prayer to Mary

I wrote this not long before my conversion. I wrote it while on retreat, praying through the decision to become Catholic. I had been reading and praying about the role of Mary and I found myself suddenly and profoundly thankful for her. Thought I’d share it. –Chris

A Convert’s Prayer to Mary

by Chris Findley

For most of my life I’ve not known you.
Yet for all of my life, I’ve longed for you.
And now that I’ve found you, I thank God for you.
“Woman, behold your son.”
“Behold, your mother.”
You were given by Jesus to us, cared for by John
By your Son we were given to one another
As John took you into his home, I pray you will be in my heart
as my mother, as the mother of my savior, pointing me to Him,
instructing me
“Do whatever he tells you.”

The hands that caressed the face of Jesus with motherly love
Please caress my face too
The eyes that looked after my Savior
Please look after me too
Allow me to crawl into your lap and rest my head on your shoulder
just as my Lord must have done
Whisper to me a lullaby of the Kingdom
Patch my scraped up knees
Allow me to walk beside you toward my Lord and my God
Help me to remember to always,
“Do whatever he tells you”

Your heart was pierced, broken at the foot of the cross
as your Son hung in agony and his blood, your blood too,
streamed into the Jerusalem dust
Yet there you stood, unmoving
While others fled, you remained
While others ran, you stood fast
For every hammer blow, every insult, every jest
Yes, you were there when his infant lungs inhaled for the first time
And you were there when they exhaled at the last
Who better to remind me
“Do whatever he tells you”

Blessed Mary, ever Virgin, ever faithful
please help me, please help me see your Son
My heart rejoices to simply be with you now
even though I know my ignorance shows
You were given by God as the Mother of all the faithful
I need your blessing, your prayers, your touch
Please look on me with compassion as yet another would-be disciple
And teach me always
“Do whatever he tells you.”

May, Mary, and Mother’s Day

by Chris Findley, Editor, H2R

Last Sunday several things converged. It is May, the month the Catholic Church honors the Virgin Mary in a particularly intentional way. Mary is the mother par excellence; Mary is the mother of our Lord and Savior. Of course this past Sunday was Mother’s Day when we pay special attention to the role our earthly mothers play in our lives. Not only was it Mother’s Day, it was also Pentecost. How many things can we add to a single Sunday? But all these things are not mutually exclusive celebrations. In fact they are closely related, especially if we consider the role of the Virgin Mother, Mary.

According to the Catechism, “Mary gave her consent in faith at the Annunciation and maintained it without hesitation at the foot of the Cross. Ever since, her motherhood has extended to the brothers and sisters of her Son “who still journey on earth surrounded by dangers and difficulties.”" (para 2674) Since the earliest days of the church, Mary has been honored and revered. As the catechism puts it so beautifully and plainly, her motherhood extends to us. But what does this mean? What is Mary’s role in the life of the Catholic Christian?

One way we see Mary’s role in salvation history is by her cooperation in God’s divine plan (often called co-redemptrix). Mary is asked, chosen, hand-picked, to play a major role in the coming of Christ into the world. She was asked and accepted this sacred calling to be the Mother of God. She participated in the life of Jesus from his first cries in Bethlehem to his last gasp at Golgatha. Her “yes” is the first “yes” to God in the New Testament and that “yes” puts the plan of salvation into motion.

We also see Mary as Mediatrix or mediator of graces. Through Christ we receive saving grace and Christ comes through Mary by the Holy Spirit. Mary’s “Yes” enables our reception of the graces of Christ. Consider the story of the wedding in Cana in John 3. Jesus has not yet performed any miracle or sign. But at the urging of His Mother, He changes water into wine, his first miracle. She continues to be about this kind of loving mediation to the world which leads to the next way we see her at work, as advocate.

As advocate Mary prays for us as a mother prays for her children. She not only participates in our redemption and mediates grace and blessing to us, she also intercedes and prays for us. Who better to do this than our mother?

The Catechism sums this up well, “Taken up to heaven she did not lay aside this saving office but by her manifold intercession continues to bring us the gifts of eternal salvation” (CCC, 969) So, during May and especially as we have Mother’s Day fresh on our minds, we should give thanks for our Mother Mary and for all the ways God continues to bless us through her.

The 3rd Person of the Trinity: The Holy Spirit

Since the celebration of Pentecost was yesterday, I thought this piece from Jimmy Akin to be particularly helpful. There is no question that for the average Christian, the Holy Spirit is the least known of the three persons of the Trinity. This article may help shed some light not only on the divinity of the Holy Spirit, but on His personhood as well. Enjoy. From Catholic.com –Chris, Ed., HTR

Jehovah’s Witnesses deny that Christ is God. When they go door-knocking they’re usually well-coached on how to discuss their views on this matter. That’s why, when they knock on my door, I talk about something they’re less prepared to discuss-the Personhood of the Holy Spirit.

You see, they also deny that the Holy Spirit is God. In fact, they deny that he is even a Person, claiming instead that he is “God’s active force by which he accomplishes his purpose and executes his will” (Insight on the Scriptures, 2:1019). Official WatchTower publications even compare the Holy Spirit to impersonal forces such as radio waves (ibid., 2:1020).

But for someone who makes an unbiased reading of the Scriptures, references to the Holy Spirit’s Personhood leap off the page. For example, Paul speaks of it being possible to grieve the Holy Spirit: “And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, in whom you were sealed for the day of redemption” (Eph. 4:30). Of course, it is not possible to offend or displease impersonal forces.

Paul speaks of the Holy Spirit as knowing the thoughts of God-indicating that the Spirit has an intellect: “For what person knows a man’s thoughts except the spirit of the man which is in him? So also no one comprehends the thoughts of God except the Spirit of God” (1 Cor. 2:11).

He also speaks of the Holy Spirit exercising the faculty of will, as in the distribution of spiritual gifts: “All these are inspired by one and the same Spirit, who apportions to each one individually as he wills” (1 Cor. 12:11).

Scripture also teaches that the Holy Spirit serves as a Paraclete (Greek parakletos) on our behalf. This term, often translated as “Comforter,” “Counselor,” “Advocate,” or “Helper,” refers to a person who is called or summoned to aid one, especially in legal settings, where he serves as an advisor, or advocate for the accused.

Jesus repeatedly speaks of the Holy Spirit as a Paraclete whom he will send to help us: “The Advocate [parakletos], the Holy Spirit that the Father will send in my name-he will teach you everything and remind you of all that I told you” (John 14:26; cf. 15:26, 16:7-8).

(Article by James Akin) Continue Reading >>>