Tag Archives: choices

On conversion

22 Saturday Apr 2017

Posted by in Blogging, Faith

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One of our authors and commentators, Nicholas, has said that he sometimes feels pressured by others into converting into the Catholic Church; I know he is not the only one here who feels this way, so a word or two on this might not come amiss.

There is, on my part, no agenda in that direction. If it sometimes sounds as though there is, that simply reflects some of the reasoning which led me to convert; it is certainly no reason for others to. My advice, should anyone ask for it, is always the same: think and pray first, second, and third; then do it again. If I fail to suffer from the common disease of convertitis (one symptom is the belief that one of more Catholic than the Pope, but there are others), there’s a simple reason for it, I had no illusions about what I would find across the Tiber. Was the English translation of the Missal trite, and lacking in majesty; were the hymns on the whole trite and banal; were the homilies less than nourishing? Yes, but Rome was hardly alone in any of this. It was not unlike my experience as an Anglican. The difference was that Rome has an authoritative teaching Magisterium and Anglicanism is a talking-shop – a very pleasant and intelligent and congenial one, but a talking-shop all the same. Those who like the that are well-advised to stay where they are.

Make no mistake if you are thinking of converting. Rome knows what it teaches, and if you wish to dissent in a serious way from it, and you are a theologian, you must expect trouble. If a secular analogy can be forgiven, there is no point being a member of my London Club and then complaining it doesn’t allow women in. Go and join a Club that does; there are a lot of them. I happen to be of a generation and background where all-male environments were common, and I enjoy such. I do not wish to have women everywhere, any more, than they want to have men everywhere.

Modern liberal culture teaches relativism. It can do so all it likes, but God’s revealed truths are what they are. If, as I hold, the Catholic Church is the guardian of those truths and I profess and believe all that it does, then on matters of faith and dogma what Rome says goes. If I don’t like that, I can leave.

When I was an Anglican I was happy to argue my corner, and when my side lost the vote I had a choice. I could have stayed and argued and insisted that I was right and that my church should change; or I could recognise that the Church wanted to move on, and go. It seemed than, and seems now, better to do the latter. People who insist that their church should change to accommodate them have too high a view of their own importance. Humility becomes the Christian, and here it means obedience.

If I do not like what the Vatican says about x and y, I am free to dissent. If, however, I were to mount a public argument and proclaim the Church wrong on a matter of dogma or doctrine, I should expect someone to call me on it. No one died and made me Pope. I am not more Catholic than the Pope.

Because I am a Christian, I tolerate liberals in the religious sphere with more patience than I usually possess in the secular arena. But where souls are at stake, toleration is a vice.  I am certain only that God knows who the sheep of His flock are, and that He alone decides our fate. But, being a Catholic, I know where the authority to interpret His word aright lies, and I am happy there. That does not mean, nor does the Church teach, that all Catholics will be saved, or that only Catholics can be saved. Nor does it mean that the Pope is always (or even often) infallible. It certainly does not mean an absence of debate and discussion in the Church. But it does mean that when a dogmatic definition is pronounced, that is it – Roma locuta est – causa finita est.

Those for whom that idea is anathema should not convert. Equally, converts should not expect Rome to be a perpetual chatter-box closing down all discussion so that their own favourite point of view can rest unchallenged. As Chesterton put it, only living things struggle against the current.

 

Battle lines?

14 Tuesday Feb 2017

Posted by in Faith

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The battle lines are what they have always been. The world wants a church which endorses what it wants to do and is impatient with talk of sin; the Church is the custodian of the ‘faith once revealed’. As the current fracas in the Church of England over gay relationships shows, once again, the world will be satisfied with nothing more than capitulation: love is love, it says, so allow it. Of course, at this point it does not accept that ‘love is love’ when it comes to what the rigid among us call incest or adult child sexual relations, but those barricades will be the next to be stormed. In the mean time, those Christians with a same sex inclination who adhere to the teaching of the Church and resist their temptations must sometimes wonder why they bother?

Make no mistake, it is not that the Anglican Church, or any other Church, is obsessed with sex – the pressure on this comes from those who are – that is those who want their sexual preferences to receive acceptance from the Church. There is no stopping point on this journey, as the Anglicans can bear witnessed to. The world will have its way. That there are those in the Church who have broken their vows, gives the world an easy target at which to aim its cries of hypocrisy – with the implication that if a few break their vows that should, somehow, justify everyone having the right to do so.

As a society we are not big on our duty, preferring, instead to assert our ‘rights’. But the plain fact is there are no ‘rights’ that inhere to us as human beings. What goes by that name are hard-won concessions which could easily be lost. Having eaten of the fruit of the tree of knowledge, we do, alas, think ourselves as wise as God, when we are simply fallen and fallible creatures. It is one of the devil’s better tricks to make us think we are at the centre of the universe, and that all that matters is our feelings and what we want; the egotism of the infant is encouraged – the self-restraint usually associated with adults is not. Indeed it is frowned upon – who, after all, in this one brief life would want to pass up on a pleasurable feeling? There is no tomorrow, so eat, drink and be merry, for it is then that we die. Children? Why bother? They cost money which could be much better spent on yourself. Take no thought for the morrow, as it takes no thought for you. We are taught we are alone in the universe, although the ‘proof’ for this is, at best sketchy; it is, in fact the new faith, based solely on our mistaken estimate of our wisdom.

To none of this can the Church assent. We are passing through here, this world is not our home, it is but a preparation for it. We are citizens of an Eternal place and, of course, the World hates us, as it hated the Word.

On being ‘saved’

06 Friday Jan 2017

Posted by in Anti Catholic, Blogging, Faith, Salvation

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How can I know I'm saved

To the evident discomfort of some here, we have a long-time contributor who goes by the name of Bosco, who criticises the Catholic Church and all ‘religions’, preferring, instead, his own unmediated connection with Jesus. He recently committed some of his thoughts to a piece here, and it, and the comments it provoked provide an interesting insight into the strengths and limitations of that view.

Its strength is obvious.As Bosco recently put it:

When one is born again, one is changed. Theres no two ways. You know you have had something happen. You know Jesus is rite there with you. He lets you know. he starts working with you. Theres no uncertainty. No confusion with the holy ghost. Its real.

Not all the insults he directs at my Church can take away from that. It can make me doubt his level of theological literacy, and it can make me lament the language he employs about my own Church; but it cannot detract from the effect he says it made on him. I, too, would be an even worse person were it not for Jesus.

But in this attitude there is, it seems to me, some confusion. He states: ‘If you ask him to reveal himself to you, and he does, you wont have all these worries.’ But then, when asked whether one could lose this sort of salvation, Bosco states he does not believe in ‘once saved, always saved‘, although he thinks ‘its really hard to lose ones salvation‘. This puzzles me. You know you are ‘saved’ Bosco says, but you can lose salvation. Does that mean that the promise of salvation Bosco has could be lost if God changes his mind? This seems, at least to me, a strange version of God.

It opens up some odd prospects, and ones of which St Paul was only too well aware, as his letters to the Galatians and Corinthians show. If one is ‘saved’ and one has that assurance, then one is amongst the ‘elect’ and if God is faithful, then one cannot lose that election, whatever one does. St Paul clearly warns those early converts against such an attitude. Salvation, for him, is like a race, and one must keep running to the very end to win the crown of the victor. Nowhere does Paul talk like Bosco and tell us of his assurance that he is ‘saved’. He remains convinced he is a great sinner, and he keeps up the effort to be worthy of the Lord whom he serves. For him, as for the sort of Christian I am, salvation is a process. We were saved from sin when we were baptised; we are saved from the effects of sin by our sacramental life; and we hope that, at the end, God will judge us worthy of his greatest gift of being with him for eternity.

Bosco tells me ‘One cant unmeet Jesus. If you ask him to reveal himself to you, and he does, you wont have all these worries.’ But what of all those who ask for this (and it is not clear from his own account that Bosco ever actually asked Jesus to reveal himself) and do not get it? Are they not part of the ‘elect’? If so, then why should they bother trying to lead a good and moral life? If, whatever they do, they are damned to hell, why not h=behave as badly as the law will allow and ensure that at least in this life, you have the best time possible. It isn’t a question of damning the consequences, after all, because if you have asked and Jesus has not turned up, then you are already damned.

This seems to me as far away from the message Jesus offers us as you could possibly get. Jesus came so that all could have eternal life. Not everyone will receive him, but to as many as will receive him, he offers eternal life. There is nothing here about a random set of appearances to sup with the elect, such as Bosco. There has always been, within Christianity, the danger of various forms of pharisaism, that sense that others are unworthy where one is, oneself, worthy, but of all of them, it seems to me the idea that Jesus will appear in a random way to some of those who ask him to appear (and to some who don’t) is one of the worst. It offers no hope to many, and an unconditional offer of salvation to others, regardless of the lives they lead. This is certainly how a cult would operate, but it is not how the Church founded by Jesus has operated, nor is it how most Christians, in whatever church, looked upon these things. It is, perhaps, a form of hyper-calvinism which speaks to the contemporary need to be special. I’d be interested in your view.

 

 

 

To serve or to be served?

11 Sunday Sep 2016

Posted by in Catholic Tradition, Faith

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Cranmer ran a serious piece yesterday on the issue of ordination. His immediate concern was with the comments in the Guardian by Vicky Beeching to the effect that were it not for the concern for her own well-being and the homophobic attitude of many Christians, she would like to be able to lend her talents (which are considerable) to the service of the Church:

For me, as an openly gay Christian who disagrees with enforced celibacy and believes priests should be able to marry, I fear I’d simply be opening myself up to further damage, discrimination, and heartache.

She is not the only woman I know who is in that situation, and it is easy, perhaps too easy, in asserting the primacy of Church teaching, to forget the pain felt by people who feel called but know the Church will not take them. In the Catholic Church there are, of course, also those who feel called to the priesthood who are women, but they know that the Church has always said it simply lacks the power to change what was inherited from the Apostle; each generation is the steward of what it has received, not the owner.

To be called to the ordained ministry is, Cranmer reminds his readers, to be called to a life of self-sacrifice and service, and if one is not prepared to make the sacrifice the church asks, then it is in all truth hard to see how that person can make the others which a life of service will surely demand. As he reminds us all”

to live Christianly is to die to self; to live and participate in the church community of the centuries, not to chorus the fleeting fanaticism of the present.

There is here something that is at the heart of divide which is often (wrongly I think() characterised in terms of ‘left’ and ‘right’. How much weight to we give to our ancestors? We are not the ones who will pronounce that all things are made new, and certainly for the Catholic Church, we have to acknowledge and give weight to what we have have received. That is not so say there is no development – all things that live develop, but it is to say that when we see purely secular arguments deployed, we might rightly conclude that we are hearing the words of the lords of this world. Those who think the priesthood is about power, prestige and position, will employ the arguments from the secular world about equality for women and for gay people in terms of these things, because they are seeing through the eyes of the world. They work themselves up into thinking that there can be only one reason the church rejects their vision – the one the world gives. Perhaps they cannot think with the mind of the Church, and perhaps for them the settled conclusion of its teaching is just a further sign of the correctness of their position; it would certainly explain the vitriol with which some of them assail those who are simply faithful to the teaching they have received.

We are far, now, from the days when the views of the laity were ignored, but we need to remember that the Body of Christ is not a democracy, and that even if 99% of Catholics thought Christ was not the Word Incarnate, it would change nothing. We are, in this society, uncomfortable with the notion of immutable Truth; all things are relative. But they are not. The Church has received a charge from its founder, that charge is to be the steward of the faith once given; it does not own it, it cannot change what the Lord has set in stone. If the world dislikes that, so much the worse for the world.

NT Readings 23rd Sunday in OT Year C

04 Sunday Sep 2016

Posted by in Bible, Commentaries, Early Church, Faith, Philemon

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The commentary on the Gospel reading can be found here. The NT reading is

Philemon 9-10, 12-17

Paul appeals to Philemon on a number of grounds, Chrysostom tells us in his Homilies on Philemon: the quality of his person, his age, and most of all, because he is a ‘prisoner of Jesus’. Paul speaks eloquently of Onesimus, in exactly the same terms he uses for Timothy, and he reminds Philemon that his slave is born again in Christ. Paul is mindful that Onesimus still belongs to Philemon, and so he brings before him the admirable qualities which he says will be useful to him (Paul) in the service of Jesus. God rules, Paul reminds him, not by tyranny or coercion, but by love and encouragement – he wants us to willingly give ourselves to his service – and this is the model which Paul suggests to Philemon with regard to Onesimus. Since it would be to the glory and service of God, Paul suggests that in behaving as God wants, Philemon would be doing a good work in helping Onesimus to help Paul spread God’s word.

St Jerome thought that verse 14. in which Paul talks about goodness not being by compulsion, answers the question of why God gave man free will and did not just make us automatically good and obedient. God is good not by some impersonal necessity he is so, but because it is in his essence that he freely wills his own goodness, and since we are made in his image, he wants us to choose to be good.

Paul wisely uses the word ‘perhaps’ in verse 15, since Onesimus did not flee his master to achieve God’s work, but from the desire to escape his master; this is also designed to show Philemon that Paul is judging impartially.

Chrysostom comments on the uselessness of names in describing good and evil in men, for there are many who are masters who are wicked, drunkards and dissemblers, and many a slave who is upright and good. Is the man who is slave to drink or greed in any way really free? Sin is the harshest of slave masters. Paul shows Philemon how wonderful God’s ways are and invited him to cooperate in the spreading of the Good News.

‘Cafeteria Catholics and others’

29 Monday Aug 2016

Posted by in Blogging, Faith, Pope

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Judge-Jesus

Before I converted, Anglican (and Catholic) friends warned me that if I was expecting to find brotherly love and amit, I’d do better not becoming a Catholic. I recall one friend, a former convert who reverted, telling me that as an Anglican I had no idea of the bitterness of the divisions within the Catholic Church – there were, he told me with some vigour, even those who did not think the Pope was much of a Catholic. That Pope is now a Saint, and yes, there are still Catholics who don’t think he was much of a Catholic, even as there are those who don’t think there has been a licit Pope since Pius XII; for all I know, there are those who would argue that the See of Peter has been vacant for longer than that. He was, of course, correct, and that was, of course, irrelevant. The Church is the Church founded by Christ, it has a Magisterium which is authoritative on matters of faith and morals, and when it pronounces on these things it does so with the authority of its founder. Do I think it ought to pronounce more on x or y; do I wonder why it does not say that this or that politician cannot receive communion because they support abortion; do I think it ought to take a firmer stand against this or that thing I think is evil, and which even I can see runs counter to the teaching of the Church? That is a bit like asking if I am human. Of course, I feel these things. But then who am I to judge my bishops and priests? Do I know something about these things or these people that they don’t know? Or might it just be possible they know more than I do?

My good friend ‘Scoop’ has forcefully argued in the comments boxes that:

teaching the faith to the best of our ability is our calling. Should an RCIA teacher (a layman without any formal teaching) do their best to follow the catechism and teach others what is expected of a Catholic? Or should he simply say that it is all up to your own discernment? We really don’t care if you teach the gospel in season or out of season. If it is unpopular you can still be a good Catholic by just keeping your mouth shut and agreeing with those who hold positions that run afoul with the teachings of the Church . . . i.e. don’t make Catholicism hard on you, find a comfort level with the world where you won’t be criticized or chastised.

I am unsure that the dichotomy in the second and third sentences is a real one. Of course all Catholics should do their best to live the faith, and by their example, if nothing else, witness to what it is to be a Catholic. But is there an alternative to one’s own discernment in the end? Are we to assume that those who fail to live up to what our own discernment and our expectations are not doing their best? It seems to me that the reluctance of the Church to censure individual politicians may just be the result of its greater wisdom in these things. Of course it is hard to see how bishops and priests could possibly be in a better position than those of us who read websites and newspapers and see things with our own eyes – away with such faithless shepherds, they are hirelings who have sold out to political correctness. Are we then, alone, and those who agree with us, the only ones who get this right? What effect do our words have?

We can get some example from the reaction of traditionalists to Pope Francis’ strictures. There is little sign that his words prompt anything by way of a rethink, and every sign they prompt further anger with him. Is it to be supposed that non-traditionalists will react is some morally superior way when they are called ‘cafeteria Catholics’ and go ‘goodness me, yes, they are right, thank you?’ Yes, it is true that the Church Fathers sometimes used harsh language, but then one bishop even punched another – are we going to say that we think that is a good way to witness in our own time? If we are to be known as his by the love we bear one another and that were used in evidence to convict of of being his followers, how many of us would be sure of being convicted? As one often on the receiving end of criticism for my conservatism from what I might want to call neo-traditionalists – that is those ‘spirit of Vatican II’ Catholics who want to go further down the liberal road – I also find myself criticised by those who want to close down such avenues. Each side is convinced of its moral rectitude, each side criticises the other. Where has it brought us? What good has it done to the cause of witnessing to the Gospel?

Do such disputes, when conducted in harsh language, do any good? If so, it is hard to find the evidence. Since at least Vatican II some of those in the Church have been calling each other the same things, and it is difficult to see that anyone has been convinced by the other. The mote in the eye of the other is always clearer than the beam in our own (especially when we are convinced we have rid ourselves of it). We all struggle, and I think we all do the best we can according to the Grace we have. I may well think that those Catholics over there are falling down on the job, or even not very good Catholics, and I may well be able to find chapter and verse for these views in the catechism, and I may well tell myself that what I say is inspired by love for their souls. I may also tell myself that I am doing what my priest or bishop will not do because they are politically correct cowards. But then I recall what Jesus said to the teachers of his own day about putting heavy yokes on others, and about the need to love even your enemies, and what St Paul said about the characteristics of love – so I suffer a little longer. As I hope for mercy, I shall give it, and I shall be judged by the judgements I make. Only God’s infinite mercy through the blood of Christ can save me; in that I am no different from everyone else. So I shall leave the name calling to those who are convinced it does good.

 

 

The right to life?

21 Sunday Aug 2016

Posted by in Abortion, Faith

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memorial-for-unborn-children.jpg

The language in which the debate about abortion is often conducted is one which has tended to make this blog shy away from it; there is only so much one can take by way of abuse from those who see nothing morally wrong about killing babies in the womb. As we live in an age of ‘rights’ it is natural that those opposed to abortion on demand should have resorted to it for their arguments, thus opposing a ‘right to life’ against the ‘woman’s right to choose’. But do we have a ‘right’ to life, or a ‘right’ to ‘choose’? ‘Rights’ are constructed by legal systems and contain whatever it is the legal system concerned wishes to legalise or to make illegal. Legal systems have a relationship with moral codes, but as anyone who imagines there is a one on one correlation between ‘justice’ and what is legally correct will discover, that relationship is often a contested one.

In the world into which Jesus was born, abortion was not uncommon, neither was its (to the mother) safer option, exposing unwanted infants to the elements. But, as for most of history, abortion was a process fraught with danger for the mother, and so tended to be a last resort for the desperate; this changed with modern medicine, where it is now fatal for only one of the two people involved; since foetuses have no voting power, it has been the voice of those who do which has come to influence our legislatures. As the procedure has become closely identified by feminists and others as an essential ‘right’ for women, it has attracted a vociferous lobby, one which objects most especially to the other partner in a pregnancy, the man, daring to comment on it at all. As ever, in response to one hard line, the ‘right to life; lobby, hardened its rhetoric. Calling women who choose to take advantage of their legal right to have an abortion ‘murderers’ helps no one. I have never been sure, ‘virtue signalling’ apart, what such language was designed to achieve? It is all too obvious what it does achieve – which is to pour petrol on the flames.

From the beginning, Christians were to be distinguished from the society within which they lived by their attitude to life. Since no one in first century Judea used the language of ‘rights’, they did not construct their views in those terms. The argument then, and now, was much simpler. Life is a gift from God, each of us is a unique soul. Human life is valuable because of that; it should not be extinguished. We know early Christians argued over whether being a soldier was compatible with being a Christian, and that some early martyrs were soldiers whose consciences told them they could not kill others. The Church eventually evolved the doctrine of the ‘Just War’, which certainly made the Roman Empire less hostile to it and its teachings. Early Christians also fought shy of the death penalty – a natural development for a religion whose founded died on the Cross. Again, the Church found a way of reconciling its teaching with the death penalty, only recently returning to something closer to its earliest attitude – to the dismay of those who still want the death penalty in force. But the Church (as opposed to some modern Catholics) never found, or even tried to find, a way to justify or reconcile itself to abortion. The best (or worst?) some of its teachers have done is to argue over when a foetus becomes a person and whether abortion before that date is justifiable; but again, for most of our history, such a procedure has carried such high risks for the mother that the argument has been more theoretical than practical. It is only in our era, as that risk has lessened, that the argument, such as it is, has gained some purchase in liberal circles.

It is plain that in the UK, whatever the intentions of those who passed the original laws on abortion, that we have moved close to something like abortion on demand. But, as recent events have shown the view that the procedures are quite as safe for the mother as claimed is not quite accurate; that it can have (for many) adverse mental health effects has been stressed for some time. It is the only medical procedure guaranteed to end with a human life being terminated. Arguments over whether a foetus is a human life tend towards a place which has already been occupied by others seeking to dehumanise beings they intended to enslave or destroy. The only difference, and that is why it is emphasised, is that the foetus is incapable of independent life; but then so is the new-born unless someone looks after it. Those who wish to argue over when it is right to extinguish a life are already in a place from which argument will not dissuade them.

There are social media campaigns telling us black lives and women’s lives matter, and so they do, but, it seems, only once they emerge from the womb, which leaves only those opposed to abortion arguing in favour of black and females lives in the womb. But point that up to those otherwise campaigning for black lives and women’s lives, and you do so at your peril. At the moment, in Ireland, George Soros seems to be funding a vocal campaign to repeal the 8th amendment to the Irish Constitution. The motive is clear. If Ireland can be shifted from its legal position, other states with legal systems influenced by Catholic teaching may be persuaded to follow suite. Which takes us back to the legal side of all of this. We heard much, during the recent Referendum campaign in the UK about ‘taking back control’, which was shorthand for popular resentment at too many of our laws being enacted by those whom we could not throw out at elections. It will be interesting to see how the Irish respond to well-funded attempts by foreign organisations to change their laws.

Whatever the effect may be, it is not going to change Catholic teaching on abortion. Those groups calling themselves ‘Catholics for choice’ argue eloquently in the language of secular aid agencies that:

The Catholic hierarchy’s lobbying against contraception and abortion has disastrous effects on women’s lives both in the US and abroad and especially on the lives of poor women.

But such groups have less to say about the disastrous effects of abortion on the unborn. They argue that:

In Catholic theology there is room for the acceptance of policies that favor access to the full range of reproductive health options, including contraception and abortion

To which the only response is that this is not an option that has ever been taken by the Magisterium, and is favoured only by those with a DIY attitude towards what is authentic Catholic theology. There are, of course, many such, and as so often, they find it scarcely credible that their ‘insights’ continue to be be rejected by the Church. They tell us the Church may not impose its teaching on the unwilling faithful,but if you do not willingly accept Church teaching, in what sense can you be described as ‘faithful’? Such groups make much use of arguments about ‘conscience’, but the sign of a badly-formed conscience is it cannot align itself with what the Church teaches.

In all of these arguments we should never lose sight of the lives at stake, and however provoked someone might feel, it is wrong to make women who feel they have no alternative to abortion feel even worse about themselves and their decision. We are back here in a familiar place – whether love is better than seeming to judge others? Organisations such as the SPUC show the way here, by offering help and support to anyone considering an abortion. God alone can judge the heart – all we can do is to show love and support for those going through crises many of us cannot comprehend. In our secularised society, Christian arguments will have no traction with many, and we must recognise that, too. That it is so is a sign we have have failed in the past, and we may want to reflect on why that is, as well as how best to change it. Imitating the worst rhetorical excesses of the other side produces only a confrontation which helps no one. One of our greatest failures as Christians is the problem we find loving those who hate us; but we sometimes don’t even get to the point of loving those who merely fail to understand where we are coming from. We need to do better.

Persecution

05 Friday Aug 2016

Posted by in Church/State, Faith, Islam, Persecution, Politics

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yazidi-women

Lord Alton has written a powerful (and moving) piece about the persecution of Christians across the world. He offers statistics and evidence to back up what those of us who take any interest in these things at all know – which is that across the glob, including in China, Christians are being persecuted, and that whatever academic arguments you want to have about ISIS, it is systematically trying to exterminate not only Christian and Yazidi communities, but to eradicate all traces of their past. This is ethnic cleansing and genocide on a grant scale. Yet where, Alton asks, is the UN taking action, where are the protests, where are the demonstrations? Despite Governments condemning what is happened and has happened, none of them is calling it genocide, and despite the rhetoric of ‘never again’, it is happening again.

In 1948,with the holocaust in mind, the United Nations promulgated the 30 Articles of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights(UDHR), Article 18 of which insists that:
“Everyone has the right to freedom of thought, conscience and religion; this right includes freedom to change his religion or belief, and freedom, either alone or in community with others and in public or private, to manifest his religion or belief in teaching, practice, worship and observance.”

We failed to enforce this at Srebrenica, as we have so often failed to to before and since, and we are failing yet again, And yet this declaration, this Article especially, is a fundamental value of our society. We are not saying we are perfect, but we are saying that we have learnt lessons from our own past. We don’t believe that treating women as second-class citizens is right, we don’t think it is right to throw gay people off buildings or stone them, and we don’t think that people should be killed because they do not conform to our way of thinking about God. We used to do some of these things, but we have learned better, and yes, we mean that word ‘better’. If that means asserting that these values are superior to those values which say otherwise, then we need to stop the cultural appeasement, we need to quit the relativising cringe that pretends that it is just a matter of ‘culture’. If your culture says that it is right to oppress others for their beliefs, we do indeed dare to talk the language of ‘right’ and ‘wrong’. By all means, if in some strange way as a secular liberal, you find it useful to say that Christians have done these things in the past, say so, but ask yourself what signal you are sending to those who do them now? What matters most, your need to be critical of religion, or your need to protect the rights of those who are being persecuted because of their religion?

Lord Alton askes:

“Where are letters by their thousands to the Prime Minister, MPs, political leaders – urging them to do more? Where are the spontaneous grassroots campaigns that helped end apartheid and any number of injustices?

Here’s a challenge.

In November, ACN is arranging for Westminster Cathedral and Westminster Abbey to be floodlit in red to commemorate the persecuted.
If every parish in the country did the same it might at last wake up our political classes to the scale of the suffering.”

It may only be a gesture, but it is better than the gesture of not seeming to care. We seem to lack the sense of outrage we should feel, which is an age when social justice warriors can summon up its language for things which seem less important to many of us, is a shame and a surprise.

Bethany: a meditation

24 Thursday Mar 2016

Posted by in Easter, Faith, fiction

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1maryofbethany

There was an unusual tenseness in the air as Martha lit the candles. There were rumours coming from Jerusalem that the Pharisees wanted to act against him; those rumours disturbed us all. He was stopping in Bethany on his way to Jerusalem, and Simon the leper, whose house was big enough to accommodate us all, was putting on a feast – with Martha’s help. As ever, she was bossing us all about, making sure everything would be perfect for Jesus – her love for him had, like mine, grown to immense proportions since he saved Lazarus, our brother. But I could see that her hustle and bustle masked the tension she felt – what if the authorities did seize him?

I lit the candles (always in the light, Martha commented tartly). They flickered and cast shadows on the walls – and when he and the others came in, it was as though the walls were inhabited by a cast of characters – black shadows, distorted – and the candles flickered – one went out, and I relit it. They ate – they were hungry. But there was something else which drove that hunger – the same anxiety I had felt coming into the house. The men were fearful of what the next few days would bring, but they made light of it, as men will when there are women present; but I knew, I sensed it.

I went to where I like to sit when Jesus is with us, at his feet. My sister thinks this is scandalous; I don’t know if that’s because it means I get out of taking the dishes away, or because she thinks a single woman should not sit in that position with a man. I saw his poor feet. No one had bothered to wash them, and they were dirty, and I could see that the heels looked sore. On an impulse, I took the alabaster jar of spikenard which I had received as a gift, and I broke it open and rubbed it into his feet, cleaning and smoothing them. The air was filled with the sweet perfume, which attracted the attention of others to what I was doing. Martha shot me such a look, which turn to anger when I let my hair down and used it to dry his feet – was that because she thought I ought to have had a towel with me – or because women did not let their hair down in public – maybe, as usual, I’d failed on both the practical and the moral fronts. I didn’t care. Jesus looked so careworn and almost sad, and he relaxed so much as I began my ministrations: love comes in many forms. In this place, at this time, this seemed the thing to do – so much so that I poured the rest of it onto his hair and massaged his shoulders. I do believe if looks could kill, the one Martha shot me at that point would have been the last thing I would have seen in this world.

It wasn’t only Martha who looked and acted as though I’d done something awful. Our host, Simon made a nasty comment to the effect that if Jesus really were a prophet, he’d know what sort of woman I was – a dreadful sinner. Jesus was unworried – he knew me well enough, and he told one of his wonderful stories, asking whether a man who owed a lot of money and was forgiven his debt would be more or less grateful than a man who owed a little and was forgiven it? That brought tears to my eyes – they fell onto Jesus’ feet, and I dried them with my hair, and kissed them. There was a noise from Martha that sounded like an explosion. I didn’t care, I was lost in the moment. I suddenly knew this was the last time I would do this for him – alive.

I like most of his followers, but Judas is an exception. He’s a nasty, grasping fellow – as my backside attests, it isn’t just money he grabs; he says all the right things – most of the time, but I’m not the only one who finds him creepy; Martha can’t stand him either. So it would have been him who opened up his big mouth to complain about my extravagance in using all that ointment on one man – it could, he complained loudly, have fed a family for a year if we’d sold it. I didn’t like to mention it was my ointment – but then I didn’t want to say how it had come to me, either – no one would ever give Martha such a gift.

But Jesus responded with words burnt into my memory. He tasked them quietly but firmly with not understanding – and then with what he said, showed me the full understanding of what I had just done. I had, he said, done it out of love for him, and to prepare his body for burial – and wherever the story was told, I would be remembered in it. That last I only understood when I saw what brother Luke and brother John Mark wrote in their books – I am told that Levi-Matthew also wrote about me, but I have not seen it, and unlike Luke, he never asked me for my version of what happened that night.I wonder if young John will mention it – I should like to see him again, but I am told he is in the far north somewhere with mother Mary; he was a sweet young man, so kind and gentle; I miss him.

What happened, what really happened, I can tell no one, because I do not have the words to describe how my heart was opened when he said that my sins were forgiven. I had not dared to ask – how could I? Simon the leper was right, I was a bad girl who did bad things. But Jesus, Jesus had known, and he had seen into my heart. My last memory will be of how he turned to me and said “Your sins are forgiven.” That caused a bit of a fuss, and I heard Simon, I think, ask who Jesus thought he was that he could forgive sins. But I recall those words now, all these years later: “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.” It had, I did.

 

Arguing with God

24 Sunday Jan 2016

Posted by in Faith

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sin

We all argue with God in some manner whether it is a matter of internal argument within our conscience or publicly in regards to what He said, meant or omitted. At the least this is our fallback position when confronted with those Truths that are etched upon our souls; for they are not unreadable and yet we tend to make them decipherable in accordance to our desires and temperament.

These truths are often covered with the dust of our neglect and the grime of our sins. Yet at a deeper level, we all know they exist and we all know that we are fighting against an objective reality that is unbending though it remains but a gentle, nagging, lingering doubt pushed aside and thrust downward; but it seems always able to emerge in some small annoying way to disturb the soul’s tranquility.

Sin is said to be a turning of oneself from the face of God; from His still small voice or His clear commands as given us by the Grace of His Incarnate Son, Jesus Christ, Who walked among us. But one wonders about the nature of sin itself and why we would be enticed by its lure; for we know what is right and what is wrong at a deeper level; within the very root of our consciousness. Why would Adam and Eve ever sin against their Creator (or us for that matter) and why would God allow evil to pervade His Creation and do its best to destroy what He made by His Holy Will? It is called the Mystery of Iniquity but it does not mean that we are wholly ignorant about its origin or its usefulness.

Sin is useful? Yes, of course. One cannot love or appreciate that which is good without experiencing evil. The same thing can be said about any quality or substance that is known. We know more about a thing when we see its corruption or its opposite side: love as opposed to hate, good as opposed to evil, joy as opposed to despair, peace as opposed to war. So without these contrary qualities or states we know not what great delight we should take in the Good God and all that He has accomplished for us. We ourselves, without the presence of sin nor the ability to choose or reject one quality or state from another, would be nothing more than robots whose lives would be comfortable or tranquil, but bereft of any true happiness or joy: for we did not choose the good over the evil, the ordered over the disordered or the beautiful over the ugly. It seems that a freewill choice for God and to return His Love freely is a gift that we appreciate far too little. It is divine in its essence for it takes us from the contentment of the household pet to the joy of an active family member.

This trial, this time of awakening to the joys that God intends, for these souls He has created for Himself, is the final phase of the Creation process which God has allowed us to fully participate in by utilizing His Guidance and Grace. The purpose seems to infinitely increase our enjoyment and make perfect our joy in Him and to rejoice in His Love for us. This is seemingly the reason that we live in a moral universe; a universe of choices that must constantly be made between short term, transitory delights of the flesh or mind, and an active and everlasting joy that will continue eternally. Only after this choice is one capable of realizing all that God has in store for those who love Him. Only then, is it possible for God to remove the other side of the coin that we freely rejected and live with the side of the coin that we chose without further temptation. For we have made our ‘forever’ choice and our will is now His Will and not corrupted with half-hearted choices nor the struggles with worldly pleasures and temptations. We enjoy the beatitude of God without distraction as do all the Saints.

Falling into sin is not the same thing as being an evil person; for even David and Moses were guilty of murder but were not evil. It is an important distinction to be made. An evil person is one who tries to willfully sell sin for righteousness and/or good for evil: they tempt, they convince with false logic and they corrupt the scriptures right along with that still small voice in the depth of the soul.

So arguing with God is normal up to a point. It is our wrestling with the temptations of the world, the flesh and the devil. But there comes a time in our lives where one must put away foolish things and look reality square in the face. Is there anything here that I desire or am unwilling to give up for the greater good? For if there is something comparable to the promises of Christ, then we have certainly lost not only our faith, but our hope and love of God (and our fellow men for the Love of God), as well. Let not the love of sin change us into purveyors of evil.

The Good Lord saw fit to bring some souls into this world in sickness and suffering, some into wealth and well-being. Some were born into hunger and strife while others were born into privileged circumstances. Some are plagued with lust and desires and others wrestle with greed and creature comforts. But whatever the inequalities we were born with or circumstances into which we were placed, they are more than made up for by Christ’s suffering on the Cross and His Saving Grace which is for everyone, regardless of birth or circumstance.

It is a Christian principle that those who have more should share more of their time, their money and their labor. It is also a Christian principle that those who are at the bottom not demand an end to their poverty or suffering but show gratitude for that which is given in love for their benefit. It is also a principle that nothing that God has demanded from every soul in this life is impossible for anyone. For this is the nature of humility and humility is within the grasp of all souls; the lens through which objective reality needs to be viewed. With both humility and love, we might hear God speaking to us as He did to St. Paul: “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.” For it seems to me that those who have been afflicted least in this life may well require the most prayer. “From everyone to whom much has been given, much will be required; and from the one to whom much has been entrusted, even more will be demanded.”

So do any of us have a reason to question our Lord concerning our state? Do we wish to argue with God even on our deathbed? Or perhaps, we might give thanks for receiving a free gift that returns us to our original innocence . . . a gift that we neither deserve nor could merit on our own. Repent and believe in Him or argue and deny Him. The choice is ours.