Franciscan at Home

We are living through a remarkable social revolution in the area of gender and sexuality, one that would have been very difficult to foresee thirty years ago. In the 1980’s, it was taken for granted that in athletic competitions, men competed with men and women with women. Various communist regimes at the time were under continuous suspicion of entering biological males into international or even Olympic women’s competitions. There was a universal consensus that this was unethical. Now, thirty or more years later, three female high school athletes in Connecticut have filed a federal discrimination complaint against the state’s interscholastic athletic association, which allows biological males who “identify” as females to compete in female athletic competitions. Unsurprisingly, these males are winning competitions and ousting female athletes from awards and scholarship opportunities.

What are we to make of these ideas that one can be a “woman” trapped in a man’s body, that one’s gender identity is fluid and not necessarily attached to one’s biological reality? Philosophy, psychology, biology, sociology, and other disciplines all have a contribution to make to this discussion; but in this article, I will be exploring what light the Scriptures have to shed on the issue.

The Goodness of Difference
“Let’s start at the very beginning, a very good place to start,” in the words of Maria von Trapp in The Sound of Music. Sexual difference is introduced into the biblical story line from the very first chapter. We read in Genesis 1:1-2: “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was without form and void, and darkness was upon the face of the deep; and the Spirit of God was moving over the face of the waters.” In Hebrew, the phrase translated “without form and void”, is tohu wabohu, a Hebrew phrase referring to a kind of chaotic state, where things are not distinguishable from one another, either through destruction or—in this case—because they have not yet been shaped. It is noteworthy that in what follows, God shapes the world typically by making distinctions and separating one thing from another. By doing so, different creatures and aspects of creation become identifiable. It is, after all, distinctions that create identity. If there are no distinctions between one thing and another, it is difficult to tell them apart, and if there were absolutely no distinctions, the two would necessarily be one and the same.

So, we read that God “separated the light from the darkness,” enabling both the light and the darkness to be identified, and then given the names of Day and Night.

Likewise, God makes a “firmament” to “separate the waters from the waters,” creating the sea, the sky, and the clouds. Later he makes the heavenly bodies to distinguish the passage of time, enabling the days, months, and years to be identified, and “separating the light from the darkness.” Finally, he makes man, and separates man into two sexes: “So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them. And God blessed them, and God said to them, ‘Be fruitful and multiply …’” (Gen 1:27-28). Here we see that there is a certain unity between male and female in that both together make up “man” that is in the image of God. And yet there is a distinction between them too: they constitute a “them” in two parts. Finally, we see that the maleness and femaleness of man is directly related to the very first command God ever gives to humanity, “Be fruitful and multiply,” which can only happen when male and female unite as one. Many principles are entailed in these two verses: male and female are both good. They are integral to man’s imaging of God. Both are necessary for the fulfillment of the vocation that God has given humanity. The account of the creation of man concludes with the statement, “God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good” (Gen 1:31). This includes the distinction between male and female, as well as all the other distinctions God has introduced into creation in order to create different identifiable creatures: the distinction between light and dark, day and night, sea and sky, one kind of animal from another kind, man from the animals, male from female. All these distinctions are good and given by God, not by creatures themselves. Yet, we see throughout the Bible that the forces of evil—and the Evil One—are intent on undoing the God-given distinctions and returning the world to an undifferentiated chaos. Evil rejects the goodness of distinctions God has introduced, starting with the most fundamental distinction—that between Creator and creature—but continuing down the line with the other distinctions as well.

Con demasiada frecuencia, los responsables de la formación de la fe para adultos en sus parroquias dejan a un lado al Catecismo de la Iglesia Católica por ser demasiado difícil y, por lo tanto, demasiado abrumador para su auditorio. Quizás también lo consideren irrelevante para la experiencia de la gente, poco práctico o personal, o poco inspirador. Sin embargo, hacer caso omiso al Catecismo como recurso fundamental en la formación de la fe de los adultos sería perjudicar al Pueblo de Dios. El Catecismo es un don de la Iglesia – o más propiamente, del Espíritu Santo, obrando por medio de los sucesores de los apóstoles, para todos los miembros del Cuerpo de Cristo. En su Constitución Apostólica sobre el Catecismo, el Papa Juan Pablo II dice claramente que el Catecismo se ofrece “a todos aquellos fieles que deseen conocer mejor las riquezas inagotables de la salvación” (cf. Ef 3,8).” No es un documento seco, sino uno repleto de vida. “Está orientado a la maduración de esta fe, su enraizamiento en la vida y su irradiación en el testimonio” (CEC 23). El Catecismo es un documento formativo – tiene el poder para transformar al corazón y a la mente de quien lo lea.

El Catecismo es un poderoso instrumento de formación porque expresa tan clara y hermosamente las verdades de los misterios cristianos, y la interconexión entre ellas. Cada doctrina es presentada desde sus fundamentos en la Sagrada Escritura – con su poder para penetrar a las mentes y los corazones, y a través de sus fuentes en la Tradición, tal y como lo expresaron los padres y doctores de la Iglesia, los concilios, y los santos. Las verdades se presentan en su riqueza y profundidad. La persona humana encuentra esta belleza, orden y coherencia irresistible. Hay un principio fundamental en acción aquí: la verdad (de la Revelación), cuando es expresada adecuadamente en sí misma (es decir, hermosamente) habla a nuestro corazón y mente, atrayéndonos hacia dentro. En todas las doctrinas, contemplamos la forma de Cristo, y somos extasiados (tomo prestada esta expresión de Hans Urs von Balthasar): somos cautivados de tal modo que nos impulsa para responder a Cristo mismo con nuestro abandono a la fe. En corto, la belleza convierte.

Too often, those responsible for adult faith formation in their parishes set aside the Catechism of the Catholic Church as too difficult and thus too daunting for their audience. Or they might consider it not relevant to people’s experience, not practical or personal enough, or uninspiring. To overlook the Catechism as a foundational resource in adult faith formation would be to do the People of God a great disservice. The Catechism is a gift from the Church—or more properly, from the Holy Spirit, working through the successors of the apostles, to all the members of Christ’s Body. In his apostolic constitution on the Catechism, Pope John Paul II says clearly that the Catechism is “offered to all the faithful who wish to deepen their knowledge of the unfathomable riches of salvation (cf. Eph 3:8).” It is not a dry document, but one packed with life. It is “oriented toward the maturing of … faith, its putting down roots in personal life and its shining forth in personal conduct (CCC 23). The Catechism is a formative document—it has the power to transform the hearts and minds of those who read it.

The Catechism is a powerful instrument of formation because it expresses so clearly and so beautifully the truths of the Christian mysteries, and their interconnection with one another. Each doctrine is seen in relation to the central truths of the Trinity, the Paschal Mystery, the Church, and the dignity of the human person. Each doctrine is presented through its foundations in Sacred Scripture—with its power to penetrate minds and hearts, and through its sources in the Tradition, as expressed in the Church fathers and doctors, the councils, and the saints. The truths are presented in their richness and depth. The human person finds this beauty, order, coherence, and depth compelling. There is a fundamental principle at work here: the truth (of revelation), when expressed in a manner adequate to itself (that is, beautifully) speaks to our hearts and minds, drawing us into itself. In all the doctrines, we behold the form of Christ, and are enraptured (to borrow a phrase from Hans Urs von Balthasar): we are captivated in such a way that we are drawn to respond to Christ himself with the surrender of faith. In short, beauty converts.

Encountering the Catechism: a Few Illustrations​
I’d like to share a few examples of the formative power of the Catechism. One of my neighbors became interested in Catholicism. He peppered me with questions whenever he saw me in our common parking lot. I answered many of these, but one day when he asked me about purgatory; I had little time and just decided to give him a copy of the Catechism. I directed him to the relevant pages, including the context of the four last things. He came back the next day, excited. Though not at all an educated man, he had read the section thoroughly, as well as looking up other topics. He was amazed by the logic of the presentations, and how Catholicism made everything “fit together.” He even explained it back to me quite well. A few days later, he told me that he wanted to become a Catholic.

When teaching the Ten Commandments to adults, I have found the presentation in the Catechism extremely effective. For example, people were astonished at the scope of each commandment. To learn that “Honor thy father and mother” included the role of the Christian family, caring for elderly parents, and the criteria for civil disobedience enabled them to view the commandments not just as items to be ticked off in preparation for confession, but as the basis for reflection on the nobility of the Christian call. The presentation of the eighth commandment—“you shall not bear false witness”—led to a discussion of why truth was important, awe at its ultimate expression in martyrdom, and how seemingly little offenses against the truth, such as gossiping, can do serious damage. The participants were sober after this session, and ready to re-evaluate their ways of speaking.

Maybe it’s too much of a stretch to say that an unmarried tailor who lived with his mother is the reason communism fell in the west. Then again, maybe it’s not.

Venerable Jan Tyranowski was, in many respects, an ordinary working class bachelor. But when he was 35, a homily changed his life. “It is not difficult to become a saint,” the priest said, and Tyranowski believed him. He began reading the Carmelite mystics and praying up to four hours a day. When many of Poland’s priests were sent to death camps in 1940, one of those left behind asked Tyranowski to become more involved in youth ministry.

That’s where he met Karol Woytyla. The young man who would become pope was just a 20-year-old in youth group, but his relationship with Tyranowski changed everything. Karol had become unsure about the wisdom of putting so much emphasis on the Blessed Mother, but Tyranowski pointed him to St. Louis de Montfort, thus shaping the life and papacy of the man who would be the most Marian Pope since St. Peter. Perhaps more importantly, Tyranowski’s work with the young Woytyla (especially after Karol lost his father in 1941) greatly influenced Wotyla’s vocational discernment. A friend of St. John Paul’s from that same youth group insists that John Paul owed his priestly vocation to the single tailor.

Tyranowski died only a few months after Fr. Woytyla was ordained. He didn’t live to see his young friend consecrated bishop or elected pope. He didn’t see the work of the Polish pope break the stranglehold of communism on Poland and her neighbors. Through it all, though, St. John Paul kept a picture of his youth minister on his desk, a single man whose life changed the world.

Amid the dark shadows that have at times been cast over the face of the Church, too often obscuring for our contemporaries the clear light of Christ shining from her (see Lumen Gentium n. 1), we need to focus anew on the universal call to holiness.

¿Siquiera es posible la santidad hoy en día?

Antes de que nos casáramos, mi esposo, Curtis, y yo cada uno por su parte nos habíamos encontrado con nuestro Señor a través de unas conversiones profundas y ambos ya éramos muy comprometidos con seguir a la voluntad de Dios en nuestra vida matrimonial. Dios nos invitó a vivir nuestra fe en la arena pública a través de la pastoral universitaria donde estudiábamos, The Fellowship of Catholic University Students (La Confraternidad de Estudiantes Universitarios Católicos) (FOCUS), y de manera más íntima en nuestro propio hogar. Curtis y yo hemos estado casados desde hace más de treinta años y bendecidos con nueve hijos y cinco nietos. Dos de nuestros hijos tienen necesidades especiales: uno de nuestros hijos tiene autismo y otro tiene el Síndrome de Down. El esforzarnos por vivir nuestra fe con júbilo no siempre ha sido fácil, pero Dios sigue dándonos la gracia que necesitamos cada día para vivir según Su voluntad. A veces me desanimo y clamo a Dios preguntando si la santidad es siquiera posible. Luego me viene a la mente la Palabra de Dios, y creo que Él sigue hablando estas palabras a cada uno de nosotros en la actualidad:

“Yo soy la verdadera vid y mi Padre es el viñador. El corta todos mis sarmientos que no dan fruto; al que da fruto, lo poda para que dé más todavía. Ustedes ya están limpios por la palabra que yo les anuncié. Permanezcan en mí, como yo permanezco en ustedes. Así como el sarmiento no puede dar fruto si no permanece en la vid, tampoco ustedes, si no permanecen en mí. Yo soy la vid, ustedes los sarmientos El que permanece en mí, y yo en él, da mucho fruto, porque separados de mí, nada pueden hacer. … Si ustedes permanecen en mí y mis palabras permanecen en ustedes, pidan lo que quieran y lo obtendrán.” (Juan 15,1-5.7)

Cuando forcejamos con la pregunta de la santidad real vivida por personas ordinarias, Jesús siempre nos enseña el camino. En este pasaje, Él nos invita a permanecer en Él. Si permanecemos en Jesús, entonces daremos mucho fruto en nuestra vida y alcanzaremos la santidad. Jesús nos está diciendo que necesitamos permanecer cerca de Él si queremos ser santos en esta vida. Esto es en verdad bastante sencillo. Necesitamos conocer a Jesús, encontrarlo en la Palabra, en la oración, y en los sacramentos. Yo creo que las personas que han encontrado a Jesús personalmente, que lo han hecho el centro de su vida, y están viviendo una vida de acompañamiento con Jesús, tendrán un deseo profundo de compartir a Jesús con todos los que estén en su vida.

Jesús nos está invitando a cada uno a un encuentro más profundo, nos está pidiendo que vivamos en una relación íntima con Él para compartir con los demás esta Fe transformadora de vida. Como padres de familia, nuestra primera responsabilidad es para con nuestros hijos. Cuando aceptamos esta invitación y su gracia, aceptamos la invitación de San Pablo, “Por lo tanto, hermanos, yo los exhorto por la misericordia de Dios a ofrecerse ustedes mismos como una víctima viva, santa y agradable a Dios: éste es el culto espiritual que deben ofrecer. No tomen como modelo a este mundo. Por el contrario, transfórmense interiormente renovando su mentalidad, a fin de que puedan discernir cuál es la voluntad de Dios: lo que es bueno, lo que le agrada, lo perfecto.” (Rm 12,1-2).

On November 2, the Church commemorates the Feast of All Souls. In contrast to the Feast of All Saints the day before, the All Souls liturgy remembers all who have died, not just the saints in heaven. As such, it is a much more somber occasion. After all, many souls will never be saints in heaven: they have elected an eternity separate from the love of God and must therefore suffer the torments of hell. But even though “it is not the will of your heavenly Father that one of these little ones be lost” (Mt 18:14), the punishment of hell is both righteous and just. In The Problem of Pain, C.S. Lewis called the damned self-enslaved—their doors to eternity are locked from the inside. Love, even and especially God’s love, can never be forced. Thus, we ultimately do not mourn or pray for the conversion of souls in hell, for they would not want God even if they could have him.

There are those, however, that will never suffer eternal torture. They thirst painfully for God but have not yet achieved their heavenly reward. These souls have died in God’s friendship but must still be refined in the furnace of affliction (cf. Is 48:10): they must pay the temporal punishment for their sins. These are the Church Suffering, the holy souls in purgatory. It is chiefly them we remember in our prayers and in the sacrifice of the Mass on All Souls Day.

Coloring Our Faith

There is a maxim in the Church which states, “lex orandi, lex credendi.” Summarized in the Catechism, “the law of prayer is the law of faith: the Church believes as she prays” (par. 1124). Whether we realize it or not, vestments are part of that “concrete mode of catechesis,” which Pope St. John Paul II named as a function of sacred art. The style, the symbols, the color…these are all elements of sacred vestments which convey a subtle visual theology to all those participating in the Lord’s Supper. When it comes to Masses for those who have died, the visual prayer of the priest’s vestments can influence how we move forward in faith after the death of a loved one.

Regarding the color of sacred vestments, the General Instruction of the Roman Missal says this:

Besides the color violet, the colors white or black may be used at funeral services and at other Offices and Masses for the Dead in the Dioceses of the United States of America (#346e).

Yes, in the Ordinary Form of the Roman Rite, black is an acceptable and legitimate liturgical color for funerals and Masses for the Dead (including All Souls).

The fifth chapter of Lumen Gentium on “the universal call to holiness” reads very much like it could have been composed by St. Francis de Sales, as it echoes what he had written around 1609 in the first pages of his Introduction to the Devout Life. What St. Francis refers to repeatedly throughout his text as “devotion” could easily be rendered “holiness” or “sanctity.” This vocation is universal; that is, there is no member of the Church, configured to Christ dead-and-risen in the waters of baptism, who is not called to sanctity. However, what precisely this sanctity will look like will vary significantly depending upon one’s particular vocation within his Body and the details of one’s life.

Formed in Spousal Love
The diocesan priest is a man configured to Christ, Head of the Body, and espoused to Christ’s Bride, the Church. As the Church is formed from the love that pours forth from the side of Christ crucified, a man who is ordained a priest must find his identity in that wounded side of Christ. The beloved disciple in the Gospel is portrayed as resting in sinu Jesu, on the breast of Jesus (Jn 13:23). The Son, who dwells eternally in sinu Patris (Jn 1:18), by his incarnate existence extends his filial life to those who are reborn in baptism. They too, through him and with him and in him, dwell in sinu Patris. But since Jesus is revealed as the way to the Father (Jn 14:6), and as the one who makes the Father known (who has literally “exegeted” the Father, Jn 1:18), they must first dwell in sinu Jesu. The third century theologian, Origen, remarked that no one can understand the Gospel unless, like the beloved disciple, he learns to recline on the Lord’s breast. Intimacy with Christ is at the heart of the life of the baptized. At ordination, the faith and witness of the baptized man takes on (quite literally) a new character. The one who was configured to Christ in baptism and sealed with the Spirit in confirmation, receives a new configuration he is, by his ordination, configured to act in persona Christi capitis, in the person of Christ as head of the Body. He is conformed to Christ in act, so to speak, configured to Christ as he gives himself for his Bride, the Church. This is why the spousal love witnessed on the Cross is the font of the Church, the source of its sacramental life (the near unanimous view of the Fathers), and the very form of the priestly life. For the priest, the side of Christ in which he rests remains forever the pierced side, as Christ’s wounds do not disappear at the resurrection but remain the eternal sacrament of his love.

In much the same way that a married couple most perfectly embodies the self-gift that defines their identity in the act of conjugal love (such that they are considered as consummating what was ratified within the Rite of Marriage), so the priest, at the altar and in offering Christ’s sacrifice in the celebration of the Mass, most perfectly embodies the self-gift that defines his identity, his espousal to Christ’s Bride, now the priest’s as well. Christ’s words, made the priest’s own (or perhaps the priest’s words, in union with Christ’s), express the priest’s spousal love for the Church. Gazing at the chalice, lifted at the consecration, it is not unusual for the priest to see himself reflected in it. In some respects, this captures the essence of his vocation: priesthood is not merely or even primarily something he does, it’s who he is. The conflict between functional and ontological understandings of the priesthood can be resolved easily if the former is always related to the latter: what the priest does (celebration of sacraments primarily, but many other pastoral tasks as well) must be rooted in and flow from who he is. His identity is determined not by these acts themselves, but by these acts as expressive of who he is by virtue of his ordination.

The matrimony of two of the baptized…is in real, essential and intrinsic relationship with the mystery of the union of Christ with the church…it participates in its nature…marriage is deeply seated and rooted therefore in the Eucharistic mystery.[1]

This spiritual vision of marriage, as articulated by Cardinal Caffara, may appear as novel or even bizarre or “cultist” to many younger members of western culture. The defining characteristic for marriage today is that it has no defining characteristic. It is open and runny and borderless. We decide what marriage is, and hence it has devolved from a sacrament to a “private love.” This “love’s” very meaning is malleable, and its connection to procreation and permanence and the divine is severed. Yet for the Catholic Church, marriage is still the primordial mystery, one which reveals God’s love for humanity. This revelation has been consistent from the beginning of the Bible all the way through to the Bridegroom, Christ, giving himself completely upon the cross for the Bride, the Church (Is 62:5; Hos 2:18-20; Jer 3:20; Ez 15:8-15; Mt 22:1-14; 9:14; 22:1-2; 25:1; Eph 5:32). Marriage reveals that God’s own love is free, faithful, forever covenanted, and always life giving. Deep within the suffering of giving and receiving one another in married love God himself is becoming known to the couple. One cannot live such free self-giving in a permanent life-giving way without glimpsing God even in traces, by those, too, who believe marriage is permanent but not a sacrament. For God’s very nature is love, and all true love seeks to freely self-donate in a permanent life-giving way.

Marriage: An Ongoing Encounter with Christ
For the committed Catholic couple, marriage’s true nature has been revealed specifically in the life, death, and resurrection of Christ. And it is into this mystery of Jesus’ own spousal love that all Catholic couples are taken when they consent in Christ to love one another until the end. There is no private meaning to spousal love for Catholic couples as their love transcends themselves from its very beginning. As a sacrament, marriage is an ongoing encounter with the power of Christ’s own life and love. Each couple abides with Christ and is empowered to love through the Holy Spirit. With such a Spirit the couple loves each other with Christ’s own love (CCC 1661).

The cultural and political understanding of marriage as private love is far from this dynamic and sacred understanding of marriage as loving with Christ’s own love. Ending a more superficial and self-defining notion of marriage will only occur through one powerful reality: the witness of Catholic couples who drink deeply of the mystical vision of marriage. By “mystical” I don’t mean a marriage filled with disembodied voices, levitations, or meditative trances. Mystical marriages are grounded in the mysteries of Christ, and these mysteries are communicated most normally and powerfully at the Eucharistic Liturgy. In other words, to live a mystical marriage, which invites the culture to consider a more profound and transcendent understanding of marital love, a couple needs to receive their own marital life from the Eucharist. To have the Eucharist fuel a couple’s love for one another is to be “mystical.”