Franciscan at Home

En nuestro artículo previo, examinamos cómo la tradición patrística nos ayuda a comprender la manera en que la ‘escucha’ personal de Cristo por las Escrituras puede explicarse y legitimarse teológicamente. El Espíritu Santo que mora en el texto sagrado, la Iglesia, y el lector-intérprete son todos activos en mediar la viva voz de Cristo en las Escrituras. El evento de escucha de la voz de Cristo es una acción de gracia que es profundamente personal, más nunca privada, ya que el Espíritu obra tanto en, y a través de, toda la comunidad de fe, mediando el misterio pascual a lo largo de la vida entera de la Iglesia. Sin embargo, la experiencia nos ha enseñado que una tendencia fundamentalista puede invadir sigilosamente: es una tendencia que intenta privatizar el sentido con la exclusión de otras voces auténticas que emanan desde la Iglesia. La Pontificia Comisión Bíblica también ha declarado esta percepción:

‘El Espíritu Santo también ha sido dado, ciertamente, a los cristianos individualmente [énfasis suya], de modo que pueden ‘arder sus corazones dentro de ellos’ (cfr. Lc. 24, 32), cuando oran y estudian en la oración las Escrituras, en el contexto de su vida personal. Por ello, el Concilio Vaticano II ha pedido con insistencia que el acceso a las Escrituras sea facilitado de todos los modos posibles (Dei Verbum, 22; 25). Este tipo de lectura, hay que notarlo, no es nunca completamente privado, ya que el creyente lee e interpreta siempre la Escritura en la fe de la Iglesia y aportaa la comunidad el fruto de su lectura, para enriquecer la fe común.’i

Pero, ¿cómo apropiarse de esta auténtica experiencia de gracia sin provocar el efecto secundario negativo de desafecto en la comunión con la Iglesia Católica Romana y sin echar sus lealtades hermenéuticas hacia la arena del fundamentalismo bíblico? Se encuentra la respuesta en la precoz práctica patrística de unir el sentido espiritual, una apropiación altamente personalizada del mensaje bíblico, con la Tradición viva de la comunidad de fe.ii Empezaremos primero por notar algunos de los rasgos del fundamentalismo y una manifestación peculiar del fundamentalismo entre los católicos.

Desde hace ya varios años, he estado reflexionando sobre una experiencia que compartimos en comunión con muchos catequistas en relación a la enseñanza de las parábolas. Es un dato relevante, que cuando escuchamos muchas de las parábolas que se proclaman o se leen por sí solas, experimentamos una reacción negativa hacia ellas. De igual modo, cuando predicamos o enseñamos sobre las parábolas, nos damos cuenta que nuestros interlocutores tienen esa misma reacción.

Pensemos un momento en las reacciones típicas a la parábola del hombre sin el traje de bodas, o aquella en la que los jornaleros recibieron el mismo salario por una hora de trabajo que los que soportaron todo el calor del día. Luego está la del Hijo Pródigo– nuestra simpatía es para el hermano mayor.

Algunas de las parábolas no evocan este tipo de reacción negativa. Sin embargo, hay un problema diferente: porque sólo vemos el mensaje moral de la parábola y no vemos el mensaje evangélico, no hay ninguna reacción – ¡no hay, por lo menos, un ardor en nuestros corazones cuando las parábolas se explican!

Parte del objetivo de esta serie explicativa sobre las parábolas ha sido el de revelar el mensaje evangélico – a veces algo escondido – por ejemplo, en las parábolas del Buen samaritano, del Fariseo y el publicano, la Perla de gran valor, y así sucesivamente.

San Paul nos puede ayudar a comprender cómo sufrimiento puede ser una gracia.

¿Dos preguntas han plagado las mentes de cristianos y no cristianos semejantes: por qué sufre allí? ¿Por qué permite Dios sufrimiento? En S. Las escrituras de Paul que encontramos penetraciones profundas en el significado de sufrimiento. Papa John Paul II explica por qué el S. Paul escribe tanto en sufrimiento: ‘El apóstol comparte su propio descubrimiento y rejoices en ello a causa de todo ésos quien lo puede ayudar – así como lo ayudó – comprender el salvific que significa de sufrimiento’ (Salvifici Doloris, 1).

In the previous issue of The Sower we stated that we shall look more closely at C.S.Lewis’ case for the reality of miracles and his arguments against modern scepticism regarding the possibility of miracles. These arguments are to be found in his 1947 publication, Miracles.

Readers will be interested in understanding the place of miracles in the life and ministry of Jesus. However, many people we speak to today are sceptical about the very possibility of miracles. Do we have any answer for this scepticism, beyond saying that it is simply a matter of faith – that we take it on faith that Jesus did perform miracles?

It is not unusual to hear arguments that seek to ‘explain away’ the miracles, or attempt to find an acceptable non-miraculous explanation for the events recorded in the gospels as miracles. Some explicitly argue that miracle stories were only inserted into the Gospels to bolster the early Church’s belief that Jesus really is the Son of God made man. For example, we have probably all heard the miracle of the feeding of the five thousand retold as an occasion on which the people began to bring out and share food that they had brought with them.

The real issues, then, are whether we can accept the historicity of the Gospel accounts and whether it is reasonable to accept in principle that Jesus performed miracles.

We begin a new series on how to catechise about the miracles of Jesus.

Let us begin with some general comments since in our present climate serious questions have been raised concerning the historicity of the miracles in the Gospels, and the very nature and possibility of miracles.

The question of the historicity of Jesus’ miracles was highlighted recently by the publication of The Gospel according to Judas: By Benjamin Iscariot, by Jeffrey Archer and Frank Moloney. The latter is a Catholic Scripture scholar. At the time of publication, Moloney stated in an interview that the majority of scripture scholars today are agreed that Jesus did not perform any of the nature miracles. The nature miracles presumably include the stilling of the storm, walking on water, the feeding of the five thousand, and the changing of water into wine at Cana. Apart from such expressions of the, allegedly, prevailing view among scholars, there is also a good deal of scepticism about miracles at the popular level. The prevailing culture is to be sceptical about anything that appears not to be capable of scientific verification: both scholarly opinion and popular culture are a manifestation of the same ideological mentality of positivism. This is the continuing legacy of the Enlightenment with its denial of the possibility of divine intervention in the world.

How should we respond to this scepticism? One of the best treatments of miracles is the classic text by C.S.Lewis, Miracles. Even today it is probably true that Lewis’ treatment of miracles is not surpassed. His discussion takes place by way of an argument with a number of key steps. In the next issue of The Sower, we shall look closely at Lewis’ case for the reality of miracles and his arguments against the modern scepticism regarding the possibility of miracles. In this article, though, I want to consider three key themes, mainly drawn from Lewis, which can help us in our general catechesis on miracles.

The presentation of doctrine must be biblical and liturgical.

In the fourth article in this series we wrote about how to ensure that the presentation of doctrine be liturgical. This fifth article forms a diptych with the fourth (a second half hinged to the first), that is, the presentation of doctrine must also be scriptural. Scripture and Tradition - of which liturgy forms a major part - are the two panels of the diptych that are distinct but should not be separated.

The parable of the Vineyard Labourers, in Matt 20:1-16, raises problems for us. It is not hard to feel a degree of sympathy with the workers, who had been hired at the beginning of the day and had put in a full day’s work. Clearly, the householder is free to be generous, but isn’t there also the matter of justice?

So, once again, as with many of the parables, we are confronted with something that seems inevitably to cause a reaction in us. Perhaps by now, if you have been following the series on the Parables in The Sower, you will be suspecting that there is deeper message and meaning that will only be revealed as we learn to put aside our typical reactions. ‘Your thoughts are not my thoughts, and your ways are not my ways, says the Lord of Hosts’. It appears that one purpose of the parables is to expose our ways of thinking and to contrast them with the ways of the Lord. In this way, the parables provide the opportunity, indeed the call, to a conversion of mind and heart. Surely, this is the very essence of a parable, especially those that begin: ‘The kingdom of heaven is like …’. Our Lord is calling his hearers to become conformed to a new way of thinking – a new way which we qualify us to take our place in the kingdom of heaven. The parables contribute to a process whereby we become even more conformed to Christ himself. And this process can only take place if we are prepared to let go of our natural ways of thinking, and especially of our normal reactions.

In our previous article we examined how the Patristic tradition helps us to understand how a personal ‘hearing’ of Christ through the Scriptures may be theologically explained and legitimated. The Holy Spirit who indwells the sacred text, the Church, and the reader-interpreter is active in mediating the living voice of Christ in the Scriptures. The occasion of hearing Christ’s voice is an action of grace that is deeply personal, yet never private, since the Spirit works likewise in and through the entire community of faith, mediating the Paschal mystery throughout the whole life of the Church. Yet experience has taught us that a fundamentalist tendency may creep in that attempts to privatize this meaning to the exclusion of other authentic voices emanating from the Church. The Pontifical Biblical Commission has stated this view well:

‘The Spirit is, assuredly, also given to individual Christians, [emphasis theirs] so that their hearts can ‘burn within them’ (Luke 24:32), as they pray and prayerfully study the Scripture within the context of their own personal lives. This is why the Second Vatican Council insisted that access to Scripture be facilitated in every possible way (Dei Verbum, 22; 25). This kind of reading, it should be noted, is never completely private, for the believer always reads and interprets Scripture within the faith of the Church and then brings back to the community the fruit of that reading, for the enrichment of the common faith.’[i]

But how is this authentic experience of grace appropriated without the negative side effect of disaffection from communion with the Roman Catholic Church and casting one’s hermeneutical loyalty in the arena of biblical fundamentalism? The answer is to be found in the early Patristic practice of uniting the spiritual sense, a highly personalized appropriation of the biblical message, with the living tradition of the community of faith.[ii] We shall begin by first noting some of the features of fundamentalism, both biblical fundamentalism and a peculiar manifestation of fundamentalism among Catholics.

The Gospel writers tell us that after the resurrection Jesus opened the minds of the disciples to understand the Scriptures – in other words, the Old Testament – showing how the whole of the Old Testament was speaking about himself. It also became increasingly clear to the early Church that Christ had established an identity between himself and those who were his followers.

As a result, the Church saw that the opening of their minds also included seeing the Old Testament as also revealing the Church, for Christ is now not simply the historical person, but is the totus Christus – the whole Christ, which is Christ and his Body, the Church. Furthermore, the early Church also realised that the reality of Christ, Head and members, is itself an image of the final heavenly reality which will be complete only after the second coming. The identity of Christ and the Church on earth is a prefigurement of the totus Christus in heaven.

It is appropriate therefore, to look at a parable which expresses the reality of the totus Christus and invites us to reflect on our life in the Church as a preparation for and a prefigurement of the life of heaven in which our transformation into the likeness of Christ will be complete.

Church teaching helps us to see how to personally appropriate the Scriptures as living sources for our lives and for our catechesis.

John Paul II’s apostolic exhortation Catechesi Tradendae (CT) begins by underscoring the christocentricity of catechesis. Since a Person, the Person of the Lord, is at the heart of catechesis, then the “primary and essential object of catechesis is… ‘the mystery of Christ.’” Moreover, this means that “the aim of catechesis is to put people not only in touch but in communion, in intimacy, with Jesus Christ: only he can lead us to the love of the Father in the Spirit and make us share in the life of the Holy Trinity” (CT §5).

A deeper understanding of the mystery of Christ is tied significantly to the Word of God, as it is articulated in Scripture and Tradition. The catechumen and catechesis itself are to be “impregnated” with the word of Scripture (CT §§20, 27).[i] The Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC) reinforces and deepens these points by teaching that “Christ … is the Father’s one, perfect, and unsurpassable Word…[in whom] he has said everything” (CCC §65) and that “through all the words of Sacred Scripture, God speaks only one single Word, his one Utterance in whom he expresses himself completely” (CCC §102).[ii]

Given the correlation between the living Word of God, Christ, and the Scriptures, it is not uncommon for catechumens and catechists to tell of reading or hearing Scripture in a way that speaks directly to their hearts and the circumstances of their lives. Those who have received this grace testify to the intense sense of meaning that is found in the personal appropriation of Scripture that now fills, spiritually feeds, and directs their lives. The Scriptures are for them no “dead letter” (CCC §111; cf. 2 Cor 3:6) but the living word of God (Hebrews 4:12).

As wonderful as this experience is, it raises two questions. First, how may we explain theologically the experience of personal appropriation of Scripture for one’s life? Second, how is such an interpretation of Scripture deeply personal and yet not private so as not to succumb to the literalism of biblical fundamentalism?