Tag: Prudence

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FRESH Exemplars

Perpetua & Felicity: Striving for Eternal Happiness

The desire for happiness is a universal human experience. From of old philosophers have constructed their theories of what it means to live a good life based on this self-evident truth and have sought to articulate for the human family the path by which happiness could be attained. As the Christian tradition matured in the early centuries of its existence, it entered the fray of philosophical debate under the same assumption. In one of his early works, St. Augustine quips: “Certainly, we all wish to live happily. There is no human being who would not assent to this statement almost before it is uttered” (The Catholic and Manichean Ways of Life, 1.4). To this we could add that we do not want some fleeting form of happiness, rather we desire a happiness that is unending and that is out of the reach of fear from losing. In short, we don’t simply desire happiness, but eternal happiness. Such is the longing of the human heart.

In name the saints celebrated by the Church today, Perpetua and Felicity, remind us of this most basic desire and the account of their passion reminds us of the road we must travel to obtain it. In a series of sermons preached on these two great witnesses of the Christian faith, Augustine liked to play upon the meaning of their names, drawing a deep lesson from them: “Perpetua, of course, and Felicity are the names of the two of them, but the reward of them all. The only reason, I mean, why all the martyrs toiled bravely for a time by suffering and confessing the faith in the struggle, was in order to enjoy perpetual felicity” (s. 282.1). Perhaps we don’t normally equate the martyrs as being happy or being motivated by a desire for happiness, but this is precisely what Augustine is saying here. The martyrs, more than anyone else, were willing to struggle for eternal happiness to the point of shedding their blood to obtain it.

To some to make such a statement may sound flippant. To claim that happiness is the aim of life and that we should do everything we can to obtain it can sound shallow to our ears. This is because we have lost the understanding of what it really means to be happy. Lacking an understanding of what real happiness is, we have been convinced that happiness is either to be pursued in shallow ways or that because it is so often pursued in shallow ways it must be a shallow thing, a fleeting emotion. However, allowing this misunderstanding to go unchecked as Christians does a huge disservice not only to ourselves, but to the world at large. Why? There is a reason that the human heart desires happiness, or better, is hardwired in such a fashion. The reason is something that all of the classical philosophies understood, from Epicureanism to Stoicism to Platonism to Aristotelianism. The reason is this: for a creature to be happy means for it to have fulfilled its purpose. To be happy, in other words, was to have become what one was intended to be or reached the state one was meant for. This is why when Christianity enters the debate about what it means to live the good life it does not change the terms of the debate but rather broadens the framework.

The problem isn’t that people wish to be happy, it’s rather that we seek happiness in all the wrong places. Stop and think, if you were to name the ways people try and secure happiness for themselves, what would they be? The culprits are the same as they always have been: wealth, pleasure, honor and power. Now pause here. Many of us may think ‘well, thank goodness I don’t have those problems!’ How true is that? This is an important question to ask ourselves in more detail especially during this season of Lent as we strive to get back to the basics of Christian life and direct all our efforts towards following and imitating Jesus Christ. This is why it is so helpful to place before ourselves the examples of the saints during Lent, most especially the martyrs. They are the best reminders of what it really means to live the whole of one’s life for love of God in Christ Jesus for we who are constantly distracted by the passing goods the world offers us. When we look at ourselves in the mirror of the martyrs, how dedicated to God do we find ourselves to be?

The martyrs exemplify better than any others the Christian assertion that our only source of true happiness is found in eternal communion with God, which no mortal being can take from us except ourselves. This is above all why it is absolutely imperative that as Christians we affirm the universal desire for happiness, for that desire, regardless of who manifests it and in what way it is currently pursued, speaks however dimly of the human desire for God. Thus, it becomes all the more important that we as Christians learn how it is that we ought to pursue perpetual felicity, which is where the saints celebrated today come in. I want to suggest that there is a threefold lesson to be learned by examining The Passion of Saints Perpetua and Felicity that can help us move forward on our journeys toward eternal happiness during this Lenten Season and beyond.

1) Water is thicker than blood. The allusion I am making here is to the waters of baptism. Stop and think for a moment, from where do I draw my identity. Some of us base our identities firmly upon the ties of blood, i.e. family. Others form their identity based upon their careers or a social group they are a member of. For many, it is a combination of all of these. Saints Perpetua and Felicity are excellent reminders that for Christians our identity is not something we inherit genetically or form through choice of profession or social group. Rather, our identity as Christians is gifted to us at baptism. It is by passing through the sacred waters of this sacrament that we are re-made into adoptive sons and daughters of our Heavenly Father by the power of the Holy Spirit (see Rom. 8:15-17; Gal. 3:26-27; Eph. 1:5-14), and it is this identity that we must cling to, strive to develop, and order the whole of our lives around including our careers and relationships.

Both Perpetua and Felicity are excellent examples of this. Throughout the course of her imprisonment and up to the hour of her martyrdom, Perpetua’s father tries no less than four times to convince her to do what is necessary to avoid her death by various means. In the first instance he simply tries to scare her through physical force (The Passion of Perpetua and Felicity, 3), but in the latter three he tries to dissuade her by appealing to her love for her family, including her newborn son (Ibid., 5, 6 and 9). He implores her: “My daughter, have pity on my grey hair, have pity on your father…Think about your brothers, think about your mother and your mother’s sister, think about your son who will not be able to live without you. Give up your pride; do not destroy us all” (Ibid., 5). We see something similar in the case of Felicity, who had been imprisoned while still pregnant. We are told in the text that it was not permitted by Roman law for pregnant women to be punished in public (Ibid., 15). What is remarkable about Felicity is that rather than using her pregnancy to avoid the hour of martyrdom, we are told that “she was in agony, fearing her pregnancy would spare her” (Ibid.). Consequently, “two days before the games” she and those imprisoned with her “joined together in one united supplication, groaning, and poured forth their prayer to the Lord” (Ibid.). We are told that the Lord heard their prayer, for “immediately after their prayer her labor pains came upon her” (Ibid.). 

None of this suggests that family is not important for Christians, far from it. This is not an either/or situation. Rather, while a true good, biological family for the Christian is nevertheless made relative to being members of the family of God through baptism. In a very real way because as Christians we are bound to one another by the Holy Spirit, that tie is more powerful and everlasting than DNA could ever be. This is exemplified both in the way the martyrs refer to themselves and in the love demonstrated by these martyrs for one another. For instance, the first time we hear from Perpetua it is in response to her father’s first attempt “to change [her] mind and shake [her] resolve” with respect to her impending martyrdom. Perpetua’s response exemplifies a life totally identified with Christ. She says: “I am unable to call myself other than what I am, a Christian” (Ibid., 3). This manner of understanding oneself, in turn, naturally informs one’s loves. Thus, we are told that Felicity’s “fellow martyrs were deeply saddened that they might leave behind so good a friend, their companion, to travel alone on the road to their shared hope” (Ibid.). And while they were in the arena being attacked by the wild animals, we see that the martyrs cling closely to one another, not to evade the attack, but to support one another in facing it courageously. Thus, a struggling Felicity is aided by Perpetua and the catechumen Rusticus clings to Perpetua’s side (Ibid., 20). What we see here is the bond of true Christian love that is a continual source of support in the midst of the struggles we all face. What The Passion of Perpetua and Felicity is reminding us here is the absolute necessity of Christian friendship. Stop and think, do you have good Christian friends in your life? Are they friends who not only support you, but challenge you and spur you on in your life of faith? If not, this Lent is a good time to begin seeking out those friendships. 

2) Everything is Grace. The support of Christian friendship is one of myriad ways grace assists us in our earthly journey toward our heavenly homeland. St. Thomas Aquinas uses the term “gratuitous grace” to speak of the divine influence we experience through others. Distinguishing “gratuitous grace” from “sanctifying grace,” Aquinas explains that gratuitous grace is the grace “whereby one man co-operates with another in leading him to God…since it is bestowed on a man beyond the capability of nature, and beyond the merit of the person” (Summa Theologica, I.II q. 111.1). Within Aquinas’s system, the gift of “gratuitous grace” presupposes one be in a state of “sanctifying grace” (ST, I.II, q. 111.5, ad. 2). Therefore, for Christian friends to be able to lead one another to God, it is pertinent that they actively seek out and co-operate with “sanctifying grace” in their own lives. The idea here is analogous (vis a vis univocal) to the idea that you can’t give what you don’t have. What this means practically is that in order to be good Christian friends to one another we must avail ourselves of the sources of “sanctifying grace” and make use of those practices which incline us to the reception thereof.

This is a dynamic which we should put into practice with greater focus and intentionality during this Season of Lent. The sources of sanctifying grace are, of course, the sacraments. On the other hand, there are many things which the Church holds within the treasury of the deposit of faith which prepare and incline us toward the reception of sanctifying grace in the sacraments, such as sacramentals, blessings and an infinite variety of devotionals and prayers. Even in the midst of their captivity, the martyrs prove to be excellent exemplars of this dynamic. For instance, they are baptized in prison (The Passion of Perpetua and Felicity, 3), and over the course of their time there we see them praying together (Ibid., 18), praying for others not with them (Ibid., 7), and even find Perpetua singing a hymn of praise to God as she is lead to her martyrdom (Ibid., 18). So focused was their devotion to God and so great was their intimacy with Him amidst their captivity that Perpetua likens the prison itself to a palace, “so that I wanted to be there rather than anywhere else” (Ibid., 3). These practices, moreover, demonstrate the directionality mentioned above of carrying out these practices in preparation for the reception of sanctifying grace in the sacraments. The sacrament of baptism has already been mentioned, but the martyrs’ longing for the Eucharist is clearly on display. So ardently did the martyrs desire unity with Christ that their visions are overtly Eucharistic. In one vision Perpetua receives cheese from the Good Shepherd and when she awakens from the vision tells us that she was “still eating some unknown sweet” (Ibid., 4), a clear allusion to the celebration of the heavenly Eucharistic banquet drawing on the Old Testament’s description of the Promised Land as a land flowing with milk and honey combined with the description of the honey-like sweetness of manna given to the Israelites in the desert (see Deut 31:20 & Ex 16:31). Thus, while the martyrs would not taste the sacramental banquet of the Eucharist this side of eternity, their hunger for Christ was so great that their imaginations had become thoroughly Eucharistic (see also The Passion of Perpetua and Felicity, 12). This Lent let us take our lead from these great exemplars of our faith and dedicate ourselves to a life organized around the sacraments and those practices which lead us to them, especially prayer.

3) We are happy in hope. In describing the actions of the martyrs above, it is clear that they were compelled inwardly by the virtue of hope accompanied, of course, by faith and love (1 Cor. 13:13). They looked forward to the fulfillment of Christ’s promises to them on the other side of their martyrial passions. However, these are not the only virtues we see at work in them. We should expect nothing less. Not only has the Tradition consistently upheld the doctrine of the unity of the virtues (Augustine of Hippo, The Catholic and Manichean Ways of Life, 1.25 & Thomas Aquinas, ST I-II q. 65.1), but especially evident in the Patristic sources is the idea that virtue is no mere human thing, but rather a manifestation of human participation in the divine life: “whoever pursues true virtue participates in nothing other than God, because he is himself absolute virtue” (Gregory of Nyssa, The Life of Moses, P.7; cf. Augustine of Hippo, The Catholic and Manichean Ways of Life, 1.22-23). Accordingly, we should expect to see a full array of virtues exemplified by the martyrs, and we do. Here I want to name just four that are especially pertinent for the Season of Lent and beyond. First, we see the work of prudence in them, especially in ordering their lives totally toward God and fitting all other aspects of life, including relationships, around this primary focus. Second, we see the virtue of religion, which seeks to do justice in our relationship with God, manifested in them by their prayers, their baptisms, and their Eucharistic imaginations. Third, we see the virtue of courage or fortitude on full display, the martyrs not blinking in the face of threats by family, the authorities, or by the wild animals they are thrown to (The Passion of Perpetua and Felicity, 6 & 19-21). Finally, most closely aligned with the theological virtue of hope, we see the gift of the virtue of perseverance exemplified by the martyrs, enabling them to confess the name of Christ in the face of death and to face their brutal passions with self-sacrificing love.

With God’s grace hopefully we have chosen a practice to pursue with great attention and ardor during this Season of Lent, whether it be “giving up” or “adding” something, maybe both. Hopefully whatever you have chosen to take on in addition to the regular days of fasting and abstinence the Church calls us all to, it is something difficult, something that stretches the limits of your capacity to carry out, be it a demand on your time or the virtue you currently possess. If not, today is as good a day as any to commit yourself to finding something that fits the bill for the remainder of Lent and sticking to it. Whatever that practice may be, it should be something that makes it clear to us that it cannot be accomplished without the help of grace. In this way we imitate the virtues of the martyrs, for undertaking such a task requires prudence and courage in initial choosing and living out so as to fend off temptation. It also requires the virtue of religion, for it will demand the imploring of grace as we test the limits of our capacities. Finally, it will demand that we persevere to the end, and if we fall down, rely on those around us and the grace of the Holy Spirit to pick us back up and push forward to the end. This training ground of Lent is ultimately meant to form our minds and wills in such a way that the whole of our life is impelled by the virtue of hope as we pass through this life, this valley of tears, stretching forward to the eternal loving embrace of our God. The very process should not be a source of sadness, but joy. Here and now we are truly happy in hope, for as we cooperate with grace and grow in divine virtue, we come to enjoy a foretaste of that heavenly kingdom, where there will be nothing but that which our heart desires more than anything else, perpetual felicity.

Your servant in Christ,

Tony

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Gospel Reflections Uncategorized

Investing Our Talents

Thirty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time: November 15, 2020

My Dear Friends in Christ,

The celebrations of the last two Sundays have thematically coalesced around the theme of preparation for the end time when the kingdom of our Heavenly Father, for which we daily pray, will at last realize its full consummation with the second coming of Our Lord Jesus Christ, who is the Kingdom of God in His very Person. The previous two Sundays have also reminded us that while we wait for that final day without end, we already, here and now participate in that everlasting day in proleptic fashion by virtue of our baptism which has given us a share in the life of Jesus Christ, Who is Light from Light, true God from true God. Therefore, having been made into a new creation in Christ (2 Cor. 5:17) and thereby partaking of Him Who is Light, we have already become the day that the Lord has made (Ps. 118:24), meant to radiate his life and love to the world so that others may be drawn to the beauty of our God and life in communion with Him as mentioned last Sunday. Much the same dynamic obtains in our readings for today as we celebrate the Thirty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time, as the parable of the talents from the Gospel of Matthew and, especially, the second reading from St. Paul’s First Letter to the Thessalonians makes clear. In the latter, St. Paul encourages us to continue to live as “children of the light and children of the day” in accordance with the life imparted to us at baptism (1 Th. 5:5; cf. 5:8).

Just beyond the portion of text given for our listening today, St. Paul goes on to make clear that to live as children of the day is to live in unity with Christ and in accordance with the theological virtues of faith, hope and charity (1 Th. 5:8-11). The other readings expand upon and further specify this idea, which we perhaps can get at best by beginning with the Responsorial Psalm. Psalm 128 is one in a number of psalms known as the Psalms of Ascent which include Psalms 120-134, so named from the superscript they bear. Scripture scholars believe that these Psalms have been so titled because they were sung by the People of Israel as part of a liturgical pilgrimage, an extended liturgical procession if you will, to Jerusalem for the annual celebration of major feasts. It was a time of celebration and anticipation. Celebration because for the People of Israel, Jerusalem was the place of Mount Zion, the place of God’s dwelling (Ps. 74:2 & Is. 8:18) and thus where they could be in God’s presence as One People and thus fulfill their identity as the People of God. But it was also a time of anticipation, for in so gathering, the People of Israel were fulfilling their purpose in being a sign to the families of the world that all were meant to one day gather together as the One Family of God and share in the feast of the Lord as Isaiah had prophesied (Is. 25:6). Being this living sign of the purpose of the human family was part of the way the People of Israel fulfilled the promise God had made to them that they would be a blessing to all nations (Gn. 22:18).

As Christians, it is imperative that we see ourselves as descendants of the People of Israel, for, like them we too have been gathered into one people by God, accomplished by our baptism (Eph. 4:5), precisely so that we might go out into the world proclaiming the Gospel of our Lord to draw all people into unity with him as God intended from the beginning (Mt. 28:19-20 & 1 Cor. 15:28). Accordingly, we too ought to read these Psalms as Psalms of Ascents, although in a way slightly different. Augustine introduces these Psalms by writing that the Psalms are meant to teach us that “we too are to ascend, but we must not try to climb with our bodily feet; rather we should remember what was written in another psalm: God arranges ascents in his heart, in the valley of weeping, to the place he has appointed (Ps. 83:6-7 (84:6-7)” (En. ps. 119.1). Augustine goes on to explain that the mountain we are to ascend is Christ himself, and that in imitation of Him, our ascent begins from the valley of weeping which symbolizes the virtue of humility. Thus, as we saw last weekend, the dynamic is understood that we move toward Christ within or by Christ. As Augustine says: “He is the starting point of your ascent and the goal of your ascent; you climb from his example to his divinity.  He gave you an example by humbling himself” (En. Ps. 119.1).

With this in mind as we turn to consider our Responsorial Psalm for today, 128, we find immediate resonances with what was said two weeks ago on the Solemnity of All Saints. There, we noted that the Beatitudes were a sort of veiled biography of Christ and that by calling us to live out the Beatitudes, Christ was calling us to share in his life. Moreover, it was noted that the Beatitudes derive their name from the Greek word which they all begin with, i.e., makarios meaning happy. Our Psalm for today, in addition to begin part of the Psalms of Ascents, it also constitutes part of the larger Scriptural tradition of which the Beatitudes of the New Testament are a part, as it begins “Happy” or “Blessed are you who fear the Lord, who walk in his ways!” (Ps. 128:1). In accordance with these last two points, then, Augustine begins his commentary on today’s Psalm by saying that the person declared blessed, or happy, in verse one is none other than Christ. However, for Augustine, this refers to his ecclesiology, i.e., his understanding of the Church, which he often described as the Totus Christus, meaning the Whole Christ both Head and Body. Referring to Paul’s letters, Augustine writes: “He is many people yet one individual, many Christians but one Christ. All Christians, in union with their head who ascended into heaven, form one Christ…we who are many are one in him, who is one. Christ, head and body together, is a single individual. What is his body? The Church…” (En. Ps. 127.3 (128.3), cf. Eph 5:30 & 1 Cor 12:27). He then goes on to unpack the meaning of fear of the Lord as it is this quality which deems this person blessed.

As he does here, Augustine often explains what is meant by fear of the Lord by way of analogy. Remembering that the Church is often thought of as the Bride of Christ, he draws on the analogy of a married couple. Thinking through the concept of fear within this relationship Augustine tells us there are two types of fear one of the parties can experience within this relationship. The manner in which he sets up the analogy is very appropriate for today’s celebration as he speaks of the fear felt by a wife in her husband’s absence. He asks us to imagine a wife, who in the absence of her husband has abused her position within the household in various ways including being unfaithful to her husband in his absence. Then he asks us to consider another situation in which the wife is lovingly committed to her husband and eagerly awaits his return in his absence. Augustine concludes that the two wives will no doubt experience different types of fear, the first woman fears that her husband will return while the second fears that her husband will remain away (En. Ps. 127.8 (128.8)). Augustine then asks us to consider what we feel within our hearts if we consider ourselves to be in the same position as the wife. How do we as members of the Body of Christ, the Bride of Christ, feel about the prospect of Christ’s return? (En. Ps. 127.8 (128.8)). What type of fear do we feel? Augustine says: “Question your conscience: Do you want him to come back, or would you prefer him to delay his return? Go on, ask yourselves, brothers and sisters! I have knocked at the doors of your hearts, but he alone hears the reply from within” (En. Ps. 127.8 (128.8)).

We would do well to consider this question today. How would we answer honestly within the deepest part of our souls? If deep down we would rather Christ not return this is a very good sign that he likely is not there, i.e., that his life doesn’t animate ours and that we know we have not lived as we are called to as Christians, we have not imitated the love of Christ. In this case, Augustine would implore us to pray to God for fear of the Lord, for it is a gift of His Holy Spirit, and thus a sign of the Spirit’s indwelling and of our conformity to Christ is that we look forward to his coming and eagerly await it. This type of fear which is a mark of the Spirit’s indwelling fears nothing except to be separated from God and accordingly strives to live in imitation of Christ, His Only Beloved Son (Mt. 3:17), knowing that if we do not resemble Christ, there is nothing within us that God can possibly find to love.

This type of fear is a gift that we have been given by virtue of our baptism. Thus, if we do not feel this type of fear when we examine our conscience, we would do well to do what we can to foster it by the means which the Church has given us. First among these are the sacraments, followed by a constant life of prayer. However, in addition, we must strive to live like Christ through a life of virtue as this too can lead to an increased desire for unity with God, as the virtues denote a type of unity, however imperfectly realized, with Christ as explained two weeks ago. As Aquinas says, while the life of charity at the outset is sheer grace and increase in charity and all of the infused virtues is ultimately caused by God, we prepare ourselves to receive this gift from God through our actions, “insofar as they presuppose charity which is the principle of meriting” (Disputed Questions on Virtue in General, A. 11). Said more simply, we prepare ourselves for an increase of graced virtue by intentionally acting out of our love for God however great that love may currently be.

It is precisely this dynamic which Aquinas sees in our Gospel reading for today. There, Our Lord tells us that his return “will be as when a man who was going on a journey called in his servants and entrusted his possessions to them. To one he gave five talents; to another, two; to a third, one—each according to his ability. Then he went away” (Mt. 25:14-15). There are two important elements to note here. The first are the talents. Aquinas reads these talents as “the various gifts of grace: for as a weight of metal is said to be a talent, so is the weight of grace which inclines the soul; whence love is the weight of the soul” (Commentary on Matthew, Ch. 25, L. 2.2036). Further on, Aquinas will identify these various gifts of grace as virtues. Thus, in speaking of the one who received five talents, Aquinas writes that “the progress of virtue is indicated here; they will go from virtue to virtue (Ps 83:8). And this is found in Genesis, he went on prospering and increasing (Gn. 26:13). For virtue progresses through the exercise of work; for unless it works, it fades away. (ibid., Ch. 25, L. 2.2045). The second important element to be noted here is the line that says each had been given talents according to their ability (Mt. 25:15). Aquinas joins this to the concept of gratuitous grace within his system (Commentary on Matthew, Ch. 25, L. 2.2040). While this seems very abstract, this is an important point, because for Thomas, gratuitous grace is the grace “whereby one man cooperates with another in leading him to God…” (Summa Theologiae, I-II, Q. 111, A. 1).

When we combined Aquinas’ reading here with the dynamics found in the Psalm above, our readings for today call us to a twofold task which we might think of as the investment of the talents that God has entrusted to us. First, we are called to cultivate those divine gifts, the divine virtues which in Christ through virtue of our baptism we have already been given a share of. Second, the only way to do this is through loving service of others. If we are to ask what this looks like we need look no further than our first reading for today from the Book of Proverbs. There we find an exemplary figure who has invested her talents well. Among other things, we are told that she displays perseverance, untiringly working for the care of her home, rising in the middle of the night to feed those under her roof (Prv. 31:15). Moreover, we find that she plans for the future prudently, investing in land which she cultivates and producing merchandise so as to provide for the home (Prv. 31:16 & 18-19). Yet it is not only for her own household that she cares, for we are told that she “opens her hand to the poor, and reaches out her hands to the needy” (Prv. 31:20), denoting the virtues of the works of mercy and the virtue of solidarity. Finally, we are told that she instructs those around her in the ways of virtue, opening her mouth with wisdom and kindness (Prv. 31:26). As a result, we are told that she possesses the virtue of fortitude (Prv. 31:25, ain fortitudo et decor indumentums eius), and so faces the future without fear. Consequently, those around her praise her and call her, you guessed it, most happy (Prv. 31:28, beatissimam), and we are told in reference to her, that “a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised” (Prv. 31:30).


My friends as members of the Body of Christ, the Bride of Christ, we are meant to hold up the woman of the first reading to ourselves today as a mirror. By her exercise of virtue she has become an exemplar for us, demonstrating that the proper investment of the talents God has given us is done through virtuous love for others. And so we do well to ask ourselves again, to interrogate our conscience to see how it responds to the question, have we invested well, have we provided a good return for the Lord from all he has given us? The type of fear we feel in response tells us whether or not we have invested our talents well and are truly ascending the Mountain of the Lord, or we have buried them and are just going through the motions.

Your servant in Christ,

Tony

Categories
Gospel Reflections

Travelling by the Light of Virtue

Thirty-second Sunday in Ordinary Time: November 8, 2020

My Dear Friends in Christ,

With the celebration of the Thirty-second Sunday of Ordinary Time, we find ourselves just two weeks away from the celebration of the Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe, which will draw our liturgical year to a close. Thus, liturgically, what we are experiencing is a movement toward the end for which we were created, i.e., eternal participation in the Triune dynamics of Love which is our God through, with, and in the Second Person of the Trinity, Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Accordingly, it is worth dwelling momentarily on the subject of liturgical time before going on to consider the readings for today that the Church, in her wisdom, has selected for us to consider in order to help us navigate these, our final days.

In considering the subject of liturgical time, part of the difficulty we face as Christians in a secular and some would call, a post-Christian age, is, as the Orthodox theologian Alexander Schmemann writes, that “the ‘Christian year’—the sequence of liturgical commemorations and celebrations—ceased to be the generator of power, and is now looked upon as a more or less antiquated decoration of religion” (For the Life of the World, 66). How many of us, I wonder, really live, in the first instance, out of liturgical time; how many of us even know what liturgical time is, is it simply, for us, as Schmemann says a “more or less antiquated decoration of religion”?

These questions are of the utmost importance for us as Christians, for if we can’t respond by saying, yes, I live out of liturgical time, or at least, I strive to live out of liturgical time, we have missed something of the radical transformation that the Life, death and Resurrection of Jesus Christ has brought about in our world. Schmemann explains, through Christ God reveals and offers us eternal Life, “and God revealed this eternal Life in the midst of time—and of its rush—as its secret meaning and goal. And thus he made time, and our work in it, into the sacrament of the world to come, the liturgy of fulfillment and ascension” (For the Life of the World, 80). It is the liturgical calendar that marks the ebbs and flows within the sacramentalized existence we now live as Christians, by virtue of our baptism. Made sharers in the life of Christ thereby, we travel through life with him, beginning by preparing for his birth in Advent, celebrating his Incarnation during the Christmas season, purging ourselves to participate in his life-giving sacrifice in Lent, experiencing the joy of new life in the Easter Season, and persevering in the life he has shared with us through Ordinary Time. The liturgical calendar, as it were, marks the dynamics of life with Christ, and by asking us to join him on his life’s journey, invites us to deeper conformity and participation in his very life. Only in this way do we have any light in ourselves of which to speak, for there is only One True Light of the world, a Light (Jn. 8:12) which John tells us “shines in the darkness,” i.e., the darkness of the world, the darkness of our sin-riddled souls, illuminating them as lamps by giving us a share in his very self, so that like him, we might be kept safe from being overtaken by the darkness which surrounds us and even threatens from within (Jn. 1:5).

With this in mind we might consider our readings for today. And, given what has already been said, I think it best to begin with today’s responsorial psalm, Psalm 63. The Psalm begins, “O God, you are my God whom I seek; for you my flesh pines and my soul thirsts like the earth, parched, lifeless and without water” (Ps. 63:1). With that the psalmist thrusts us into the desert. Very much in keeping with this Psalm, in his work on the lives of the saints, theologian Lawrence Cunningham rightly notes that within the Christian spiritual tradition the desert represents a place without God, a place of encounter with evil and malignant spirits, a place of struggle with the disease of sin (The Meaning of Saints, 117-119). Nevertheless, it is also a place where people are led by God. Think here of the episode of Christ’s threefold temptation by satan in the desert, the Scriptures introduce that episode by saying that Christ was led there by the Spirit (Mt. 4:1; Lk. 4:1). In imitation of Christ the desert Fathers literally went out into the desert to struggle with the darkness of sin, St. Antony of Egypt perhaps most famous among them, and in turn, imitating the desert ascetics, the monastic life attempts to recreate something of a desert setting within the monastery to various degrees, as Cunningham notes (The Meaning of the Saints, 121-122). What of the rest of us? In his own commentary on this Psalm, Augustine tells us that the desert signifies our life this side of eternity (En. Ps. 62.3 (63.3)). Thus, in a manner seemingly paradoxical, we are led into the desert, this seemingly godless place of struggle by God, the reason for this being is that the desert is simultaneously the place where we encounter God most intensely. Here we can call to mind the Israelites who were set free from captivity in Egypt precisely so that they might worship God in the desert (Ex. 7:16). The likening by Augustine of this life to the desert rings true in light of Fr. Joseph Ratzinger’s consideration that God’s innermost purpose for creation was “to open up a space for response to God’s love, to his holy will” (Jesus of Nazareth, Pt. II: Entry to Jerusalem to the Resurrection, 78).

Ratzinger’s insight is affirmed in Augustine’s reading of the Psalm, for he notes that the thirst experienced in the desert naturally leads people to begin searching for a source of water. In the same way, then, the spiritual desert of the world, precisely as the space opened up by God so that we might encounter his love, in the first instance prompts us to seek out that which alone can quench the thirst of the soul, our God. Augustine writes: “this is the place for thirst; we shall be fully satisfied elsewhere,” yet immediately he adds, “but even now God sprinkles upon us the dew of his word to keep us from fainting in this desert” (En. Ps. 62.3 (63.3)). What is this dew of the word, this sustenance given to us by God so that we might traverse the desert of this world? The list could be very long, for whatever communicates the Life of Christ to us is this nourishment. However, the Sacraments come to mind most readily, the language of dew a suitable analogy for the waters of baptism through which we are given a share in the life of Christ and no less the blood of the Eucharist through which we literally drink in Life Itself. This reading aligns well with the words of the psalmist, who goes tells us that even amidst this desert, “as with the riches of a banquet my soul be satisfied, and with exultant lips my mouth shall praise you” (Ps. 63.5). 

With the second half of the verse, Augustine tells us that the psalmist is reminding us that the desert of this life is a time of prayer (En. Ps. 62.14 (63.14). Thus, in a certain way, the latter half of the verse refers to the first, for in the Eucharistic liturgy, the prayer par excellence, our prayers are immediately answered by being filled with the Life of Christ in the Eucharist. Yet, our liturgical experience is an oasis this side of eternity, and from oasis to oasis, i.e., from Eucharist to Eucharist, we struggle to traverse the desert, and find ourselves thirsting once again. That we struggle and thirst, Augustine tells us, is appropriate to those whose lives seek conformity with Christ, as he draws an analogy between physical thirst and the beatitude of hungering and thirsting for righteousness (Mt. 5:6) (En. Ps. 62.3 (63.3)). Recalling that in the reflection from last week we saw that the beatitudes are characteristics of Christ himself, and that our living out the beatitudes denotes participation in the life of Christ, in keeping with the opening reflection on liturgical time, Augustine’s reflection on the psalm urges us to allow the whole of our lives to become liturgy, i.e., life lived in prayerful unity with God, empowered by the Holy Spirit. In this way we keep our lamps burning with the life of Christ.

It is at this point where the considerations of our first reading for today come into play. There, from the Book of Wisdom we hear that “Resplendent and unfading is wisdom, and she is readily perceived by those who love her, and found by those who seek her. She hastens to make herself known in anticipation of their desire” (Wis. 6:12-13). Notice please the personalized nature of Wisdom here, sought by those who love her and making herself known. Reading passages such as this and other like it (e.g., Prv. 8:22-31) in light of St. Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians (1:24), the Fathers of the Church understood Wisdom to be Christ. Moreover, Augustine used that same verse from Paul to define his understanding of virtue, for the Latin he read said that Christ was the virtue and wisdom of God (Christus virtus et sapientia Dei). For the tradition extending back before the advent of Christ, prudence was typically numbered among the cardinal virtues as it is for many today. Augustine defines this particular virtue as “love discriminating rightly between those things which aid it in reaching God and those things which might hinder it,” and then goes on to add that without prudence, the life of virtue in its entirety is impossible (The Catholic and Manichean Ways of Life, 1.15.25 & 1.24.45). This definition of the virtue of prudence coincides well with our reading from the Book of Wisdom today, which tells us that “taking thought of wisdom is the perfection of prudence, and whoever for her sake keeps vigil shall quickly be free from care” (Wis. 6:15).

We have seemingly thought ourselves into a corner, for if it is Wisdom that we seek, and Wisdom is Christ, and prudence is a virtue and virtue is also Christ, what gives? Augustine helps us out of our jam. Time and again he assures us that Christ, the Son of God, who from the beginning was our Source and intended End, in his Incarnation also became the Way for us, as he Himself teaches (Jn. 14:16), such that “we come through him to him” (Sermon 293.7). Thus, we travel by Christ to ever greater unity with Christ and as we do so grow in ever greater conformity with Christ. Moreover, to grow in conformity with Christ, is to participate in him who is Light, Virtue and Wisdom Itself. Accordingly, we keep the lamps of our souls lit amid the darkness through virtuous acts of justice, fortitude, temperance, humility, etc. By living in this way, the Light of Christ illuminates our path, enabling us to navigate this dark desert and help others to find the way forward as well.

This brings us, finally, to the Gospel reading. There, Our Lord begins, “the kingdom of heaven will be like ten virgins who took their lamps and went out to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish and five were wise” (Mt. 25:1-2). As the parable goes on, Jesus tells us that the foolish virgins took their lamps, but took no oil with them whereas the wise virgins took the flasks of oil with their lamps (Mt. 25:3-4). As mentioned above, the soul is the lamp, and what could the oil signify but the very sacraments of the Church which so often use oil to symbolize the conferral of grace that is divine life, e.g., baptism, confirmation, holy orders and anointing of the sick. In keeping with what has come before, the wise virgins keep their lamps lit by living liturgical lives, nourished by the grace of the sacraments and staying focused on the coming of Christ, prudence continually keeping vigil and guiding them on the virtuous way. What’s more, they exemplified such a life to the foolish, imprudent virgins, who nevertheless, failed to imitate their virtuous behavior. Thus, they fall out of relationship with God, the oil of their lamps runs out, and they are left unprepared for the coming of the Bridegroom. In a rush they scramble to find some oil, and later come to the door, pleading “Lord, lord, open to us” (Mt. 25:11). In response they hear the soul-wrenching words, “Truly I tell you, I do not know you” (Mt. 25:12). What is going on here? Is it simply a matter of timing? Perhaps, but this is only part of the story. If it were simply a matter of timing they would not have been able even to make contact with him. More importantly, the imprudent virgins had lost the Light of Christ, the Light of Virtue, and thus when they scramble to the door in the middle of the night and our Lord peers through the door to see who is there, the light which illuminates their faces is not that of Christ, but something bought from the world (Mt. 25:10), and for this reason he says, I do not know you.

Our Lord then concludes the parable on an ominous note saying, “Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour” (25:13). Thus, with these cautionary words, Jesus implores us to travel through the desert of this life by the light of virtue, living in continual communion with Him as we rush toward our final days. For, indeed, the King will come, and what will matter is whether we have lived so as to make his kingdom known and his will done, on earth as it is in heaven through liturgical lives of virtue. This alone will determine whether he recognizes us, whether or not we are welcomed into the eternal banquet of love.

Your servant in Christ,

Tony