The following essay was originally published on Catholic Online.

In his book The Experience of God’s Presence, Fr. Anselm Moynihan quotes from an American writer who, in referring to a group of university students, describes them as living “in comfortable disregard of the superhuman. They are neither in revolt against it, nor in search of it. Religion as a social service they find all about them, and they respect. Religion as something relating to God they neither know nor miss” (9).

Fr. Moynihan utilized that quote in order to underscore a disturbing problem he noticed, one which he characterized as the “degradation of religion to a thinly-disguised worship of humanity” (ibid.). What does he mean by this statement? He is not, of course, suggesting that Christians are somehow in error if they pursue with zeal the love of neighbor and the common good of society. For Jesus said, “Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brethren, you did it to me” (Mat. 25:40). He does point out, however, that the often militant atheism of the present age is not nearly so frightening “as the lack of interest in God or sense of His reality among reputed Christians” (8). Speaking of this lack of awareness of God’s presence, he states that “almost the whole content of Christianity is the commandment to ‘love thy neighbor,’ with little reference to the first commandment” (9).

The Experience of God’s Presence was copyrighted two years after the close of Vatican II. Consequently, Fr. Moynihan aptly observed that the Council Fathers vigorously affirmed that the primary mission of the Church is to bring the world to Christ. Many others have since said the same. For instance, Cardinal Avery Dulles wrote: “The council repeatedly and emphatically taught that the procurement of salvation is the most important task of the church” (qtd in Vatican II: Renewal Within Tradition 163).

Moreover, in the first year of his Pontificate, Blessed John Paul II taught that “The Church’s fundamental function in every age and particularly in ours is to direct man’s gaze, to point the awareness and experience of the whole of humanity towards the mystery of God, to help all men to be familiar with the profundity of the Redemption taking place in Christ Jesus” (Redemptor hominis 10 § 3). If the function of the Church is to draw man into an experience of the mystery of God, it is also, then, of paramount importance that every Christian engage themselves, on a personal level, in a pursuit of that same object; i.e. an encounter with God. In order to do so, it is vital to direct the actively of one’s life in such a way so as to promote an increase of love of—and intimacy with—the Holy Spirit.

Am I Conscious of The Indwelling Spirit of God?

The question is, how deeply have we plunged into the sublime mystery of God? Are we in a state of grace, and, if so, are we aware of the constant presence of the indwelling Spirit? Do we, throughout the day, give adoration and praise to God, nestled as we are in the arms of his unceasing embrace? Or, on the other hand, is the temple of God (1 Cor. 3:16) that we are by virtue of our Baptism and faith in Christ left unvisited by our own hand? That is, have we become “deserted temples,” not because the Spirit has refused entry within the mysterious corridors of our soul, but rather because we have failed to prayerfully explore with depth the interior landscape of our own being and thus discover the Advocate who dwells therein and awaits our love?

It is tempting to lay blame on the frenetic “busyness” of the modern age. Perhaps none of us need reminding of the dangers of clutter and distraction in our daily lives; nevertheless, it is all too easy to fall prey to the plague of unrelenting “noise,” allowing it to blot out the subtle yet persistent divine impulses of the Spirit.

There is also the problem of simple forgetfulness; insidious though it is. Although we know we are temples of the Spirit and have often been told as much, we yet suddenly awaken to the fact that days or weeks or even months have passed in silence. How is it possible that the lover could forget his most adored and cherished Love? It is not that we refuse to speak with the Advocate who shapes our hearts and defines the richness of our life, rather it is that our attention is drawn to lesser, smaller and often insignificant things. Therefore it is profitable to seriously ask ourselves, “What or who do I really love?”

Upon reflection many will find that their spiritual life has never begun to flourish. Why is this so? It is not God’s doing. Christ did not die on the cross to diminish or empty out our life, but rather he came so that we may have life and have it abundantly (Jn 10:10). Christ died to give us true, everlasting and superabundant life. Nevertheless, rather than thirsting after the fiery heat of intimacy with the Spirit, whose gifts of love fill us with power from heaven (cf. Lk 24:49), many are content with a static, dry and mundane existence devoid of the supernaturally infused joy and peace that goes along with a life lived in abandonment and openness to the Spirit.

But if the immense richness and love of the Spirit is to be experienced, tasted and possessed, it need be first sought after before it can be discovered. While it is true that the gift of the Spirit is a free and unmerited one, it is also true that Christ will not lavish us with his incomparable gifts until he sees that we are willing to give of ourselves entirely to him. The Spirit is God’s infinite self-gift; the fruitful reception of this Gift is actualized through our own self-gift offered in reciprocation. It is always God who initiates the embrace of love; yet a complete and lasting embrace is an impossibility in a one-sided relationship.

Embarking On Life In The Spirit

In his interview with Peter Seewald, Pope Benedict XVI often emphasized the importance of a renewed intimacy with God in the lives of Christians. He noted that the “important thing today is to see that God exists, that God matters to us, and that he answers us. And, conversely, that if he is omitted, everything else might be as clever as can be—yet man then loses his dignity and his authentic humanity and, thus, the essential thing breaks down. That is why, I think, as a new emphasis we have to give priority to the question about God” (Light of The World 65).

That if God is omitted from our lives all is for nothing, is a crucial truth we must take to heart. If we hope to understand ourselves and direct ourselves properly in order to attain our end in God, we must grasp that truth. There can be no lasting happiness nor true human fulfillment outside of the mystery of God. In a word, God alone suffices, as St. Teresa of Avila noted. Where are we to begin? How are we to re-create our life in such a way so as to truly share in the divine life of God?

First, it is God who is the supreme and efficacious laborer; it is the Spirit whose love shapes us and defines us, delicately transforms us into who we are called to be and who we were created to become. Christ therefore re-creates through the gift of his Spirit whose gifts enable us to act in ways proper only to God. Yet we must do our human part. We must respond openly, lovingly and with complete docility to the grace of the Holy Spirit. Here we encounter an at once simple yet complex subject. Some are of the mind that study of the principles involved in the spiritual life are a waste of time; it is better, they say, to just act, do something, anything for God. But to hold to that attitude is a serious mistake. Others insist it is best to be “spiritual but not religious.” That, too, is a capitol error for numerous reasons.

Life in the Spirit, immersed in his way of love and beauty, docile to his movements as a feather is carried about by a Divine Wind, is a way of life. And it is not easy: it requires determined commitment, persistence and sacrifice. It is a sacramental life that travels the way of sanctity, holiness and loving obedience in the womb of mother Church; it is an ascetic life of repentance and grace and unceasing prayer, lived in humility and love, with our human gaze ever fixed on the divine Other who sustains us and possesses us that we too might possess him. It is a life of voluntary and innocent suffering, that we truly may become “little christs.” It is a life whose supreme focus is directed unrelentingly on Love.

When a lover is in the presence of his Love, his gaze remains fixed on the divine Other who is the highest object of his joyous hope. He thus remains unceasingly attentive to his cherished Love, alert to all the endless movements and delicate sighs that accompany the language of love, responding to them with depth and tenderness, savoring every thought, whisper, gesture and revelation of the Other. Not one glance from Love escapes the lover; all are rich with meaning. Each breath of sweetness, every sacred aroma that issues forth with delight from the mouth of Love is adored; these treasures of Love infuse the lover with new insights and communicate ever more deeply the sublime secrets of the divine life of God.

“Man cannot live without love. He remains a being that is incomprehensible for himself, his life is senseless, if love is not revealed to him, if he does not encounter love, if he does not experience it and make it his own, if he does not participate intimately in it. This . . . is why Christ the Redeemer fully reveals man to himself. . . . In the mystery of the Redemption man becomes newly ‘expressed’ and, in a way, is newly created. He is newly created! . . .” (Blessed John Paul II, Redemptor hominis 10).

The labor of the Church, one of the highest forms of love, is to make all women and men conscious of the reality of God, the supreme Being of love and mercy who, in a stupendous display of love, assumed human nature and became man in the Person of Jesus the Christ. Salvation is therefore realized in an encounter with Christ the Redeemer whose sacrifice of infinite worth has enabled men to be caught up in the loving embrace of God; the God of incomprehensible power yet tender compassion who, astonishingly, seeks to join with men in indescribable intimacy through the presence of his indwelling Spirit. Let us make the labor of the Church our own. Let us embrace life in the Spirit.

“Until the day breathes cool and the shadows lengthen, I will go to the mountain of myrrh, to the hill of incense. You are all-beautiful, my beloved, and there is no blemish in you. You have ravished my heart with one glance of your eyes, how much more delightful is your love than wine, and the fragrance of your ointments than all spices!”  (Song of Songs 4:6-10).

Christ’s peace.

*****

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The following essay was originally published on Catholic Online.

The Holy Father spoke of the crucial importance of prayer during his catechesis given on Wednesday in St. Peter’s Square before more than 20,000 of the faithful. The full translated text of the catechesis is available here for those of our readers who like to read it in its entirety. For now, I would like to build from a few of the pearls of wisdom our Holy Father laid out in his catechesis in order to show how the life of prayer leads us, aided by the grace of the Spirit, into living a happier life in the present and toward our ultimate goal of eternal happiness in God.

Recalling how the apostles addressed a problem which arose in the first Christian community in Jerusalem, Pope Benedict XVI drew a parallel between the manner in which the Church has always responded to difficulties throughout her history by prayerfully opening herself to the divine prompts of the Holy Spirit, and the way in which prayer, too, opens our own hearts and minds to God and thus enables us to respond properly to the many demands of daily life.

Given the numerous duties and responsibilities often shouldered as a part of life in contemporary society, it is easy to fall prey to the temptation to first concentrate our focus on the various tasks at hand, and then, only after their satisfactory completion, pray at the end of the day or when some other apparently suitable time presents itself. If such an attitude is allowed to continue, communication with God becomes less and less frequent, even subsiding altogether.

The Holy Father, however, reminded us that our strength originates and flows forth from the fount of prayer. Therefore we must give priority to “God and to our relationship with him in prayer, both as individuals and in the community. If we do not have the capacity to pause and listen to the Lord, to enter into dialogue with him, we risk becoming ineffectually agitated by problems, difficulties and needs, . . .” We might say, then, that prayer is an indispensable element in the reduction of stress in our lives.

It is helpful to note that our culture itself can reinforce the tendency to devalue prayer through an often exaggerated emphasis placed on productivity and efficiency. Therefore we should guard against the false notion that prayer somehow hampers our ability to accomplish those tasks set before us. Prayer is not an intrusion upon our duties, but rather it contributes toward our success in immeasurable ways: prayer opens us up to the sustaining and regenerative grace of the Holy Spirit, whose indwelling and transformative presence provides us with the life-giving nourishment so critical to our ability to function properly, fruitfully, and in a fully human way. It is clear that living in a healthy and balanced way hinges on the life of prayer.

Drawing on the lives of the saints, Pope Benedict noted that they “experienced profound unity between prayer and action, between total love of God and love for their fellows.” It is prayer that fosters love of God; it is love of God that accomplishes all things. Our Lord Jesus Christ said, “I am the vine, you are the branches. He who abides in me, and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing” (Jn 15:5).

The manner in which the saints lived illumine the fact that prayer not only disposes us to live a life in intimate communion with the Holy Trinity, but brings about, by cooperation with the grace of the Holy Spirit, the fruits of such a life as well. In participating and sharing in God’s own divine life, we attain the fullness of our human potential—there is no “better” or more “productive” way to live. If we desire to be truly and fully alive, prayer is the path to that life: one of ineffable beauty and well-being in Christ.

Prayer provides the impetus by which we move toward our end in God; it draws us toward our completion and, by the gift of the Spirit who intercedes for us (Acts 2:38; Rom 8:26), it raises all that we do beyond the strictly natural level. Through ardent prayer, the meaning of our life is gradually unveiled, we enjoy a new purpose and find a new hope, and those daily activities that previously seemed mundane take on new meaning. “If we do not pray trustingly every day,” said Pope Benedict, “our activities become empty, they lose all profundity and are reduced to mere activism which, in the final analysis, leaves us unsatisfied. . . . Every step, every action in our lives, even in the Church, must be done before God, in prayer and in the light of his Word.”

Prayer: The Path to Happiness

All men experience a natural desire for happiness; this desire “is of a divine origin: God has placed it in the human heart in order to draw man to the One who alone can fulfill it” (CCC 1718). St. Augustine understood such a concept well: “How is it, then, that I seek you, Lord? Since in seeking you, my God, I seek a happy life, let me seek you so that my soul may live, for my body draws life from my soul and my soul draws life from you” (Confessions 10, 20: PL 32, 791).

That many today fail to grasp such a concept is an immense tragedy. Fleeting pleasures and the many distractions of life are given priority, for they are rather easily attainable and provide a measure of temporary happiness, while God is viewed as a distant, impersonal “power” that is largely unreachable and who therefore is incapable of satisfying our thirst for happiness. The visible seems the more real, while the invisible Other who is Creator of reality as it is, is pushed into the background. Rather than seek happiness correctly, looking for it where it truly is, it is sought incorrectly in evanescent, created objects.

Although God is still thought of as “something” important, “something” that we need and rely upon, it is thought that he no longer intervenes in the natural course of events. Further, there is often little certainty that God is personally and actively present in one’s life, or that he will reveal himself in a perceptible and unforgettable way to those who seek him.

Setting the disastrous effects of sin aside for the moment, perhaps this situation is—among other things—due to a lack of diligent and zealous persistence. That is, in today’s consumeristic environment of quick gratification, it is somewhat difficult to find even Christians who are willing to put forth a consistent and prolonged effort in walking the path of faith in free and loving obedience. For instance, the Gospel life of humility, simplicity and prayer is deemed to be burdensome and unrewarding; the ascetic life of personal sacrifice that the saints embraced is thought to be far too radical; and an interior life of grace lived in unceasing prayer is labeled as “entirely unrealistic.” Consequently, the heights of sanctity and perfection in which the joyous bliss of union with God is experienced is dismissed as nothing but “talk borne from an overactive, pious imagination.” Again, many remain unconvinced of God’s immanent presence and astonishing love: an incomparable love that, once tasted, cannot be forgotten—not ever.

But union with God is a truly new and wondrous existence. And persistence is indeed necessary. The great mystics of the Church frequently wrote of the spiritual life of endurance. Beginners in prayer must often endure a prolonged period of dryness and darkness in which God seems distant, and in which even a small amount of suffering is found to be very difficult. How far along such a road each beginner must travel is unknowable: its distance and duration is a matter of God’s good favor. It hardly seems possible, however, that those who persist in prayer and passionately live out the sacramental life in the womb of the Church would remain static: “I waited patiently for the LORD; he inclined to me and heard my cry” (Psalm 40:2).

Sin: The Self-Imposed Obstacle To Happiness

If we desire holiness and to become a person of prayer as a true disciple of Christ, if we thirst to set out on the road of life in the Spirit and taste the sweetness of the Lord (Psalm 31:19), it is crucial that we take a hard, serious and honest look at our life: are we living in grave sin? Are we attached to sin? Do we refuse to participate in the Liturgy of the Mass on days of obligation? Are we living in open dissent from the Magisterium of the Church? While there are many other serious questions we should ask ourselves, it is important to note that it is possible to pray or communicate with God while yet remaining unrepentant. In such a case, our relationship with Christ is superficial and insincere. The remedy is to return to God completely through heartfelt repentance, as did the Prodigal Son (see Lk 15:11 ff.).

Blessed John Paul II taught that repentance is an essential first step in returning to God and therefore must not be disregarded: “To acknowledge one’s sin, indeed—penetrating still more deeply into the consideration of one’s own personhood—to recognize oneself as being a sinner, capable of sin and inclined to commit sin, is the essential first step in returning to God. . . . In effect, to become reconciled with God presupposes and includes detaching oneself consciously and with determination from the sin into which one has fallen. It presupposes and includes, therefore, doing penance in the fullest sense of the term: repenting, showing this repentance, adopting a real attitude of repentance—which is the attitude of the person who starts out on the road of return to the Father ” (Reconciliation and Penance 13).

“Come now, let us set things right, says the LORD: Though your sins be like scarlet, they may become white as snow; . . . If you are willing, and obey, you shall eat the good things of the land; . . .” (Isaiah 1:18-19).

God Is My Helper; The Lord Is The Protector of My Soul (Psalm 54:4)

From eternity the Father has called us by the sacrifice of his Son into the womb of holy mother Catholic Church, that we become a people of prayer, true worshipers who will worship him in “spirit and truth” (Jn 4:23). God himself, therefore, draws us into his blissful embrace, where we are to become fully who he has made us to be. “See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are” (1 Jn 3:1). That astonishing Love, so stupendously manifested in Christ crucified, cannot be accessed apart from the life of prayer as a child of God.

If we experience a yearning to set out on the path of prayer and holiness, it is important to note that it is God himself who begets in us any measure of desire for such a sublime journey (Phil. 2:12-15). Therefore we should not for a moment fear that we are incapable or unequipped to engage the adventure of life with God. For it is the Spirit who seeks to embrace us and lead us to Christ; the choice to respond to such an immense gift of grace is ours. Through prayer we are led along the correct path, strengthened that we may focus our being on the wondrous “things of heaven” rather than on the mundane “things of earth” (Col. 3:2), which, with the help of the Spirit, gives us “new eyes” and a “new light for the journey”:

Through prayer nourished by the Word of God we “see reality with new eyes,” said Pope Benedict, “with the eyes of the faith and the Lord, who speaks to the mind and to the heart, gives new light for the journey in all times and situations. . . . If the lungs of prayer and of the Word of God do not nourish the breath of spiritual life, we risk suffocating in the midst of a thousand daily cares. Prayer is the breath of the soul and of life” (Pope Benedict qtd. from Vatican Information Service).

Christ’s peace.

*****

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The following essay was originally published on Catholic Online.

We profess in the Nicene Creed of the Church each Sunday: “I look forward to the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come. Amen.”

“But are we,” wrote then Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, “really expecting this resurrection? And eternal life? The statistics tell us that many Christians, even churchgoers, have given up believing in eternal life, or at any rate regard it as a pretty uncertain business” (God Is Near Us 130).

It is true that not much can be said about the nature of eternal life. What is an unending “now” of life with God? And what, precisely, will an experience of the general resurrection entail? “Beloved, we are God’s children now; it does not yet appear what we shall be, but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is” (1 Jn 3:2).

It is not completely unlike once again residing in our mother’s womb: how much can we possibly know of the great expanse that awaits us “out there.” Yet death, like birth, is imminent—and so too is that moment in which we will pass through the veil of death into the mysterious, ongoing existence which lies beyond it.

It is likely that, as Pope Benedict XVI notes in his encyclical On Christian Hope, the reason we see such an extensive loss of faith today is because of a lack of the desire to live on forever: “Perhaps many people reject the faith today simply because they do not find the prospect of eternal life attractive. What they desire is not eternal life at all, but this present life, for which faith in eternal life seems something of an impediment. To continue living for ever—endlessly—appears more like a curse than a gift. Death, admittedly, one would wish to postpone for as long as possible. But to live always, without end—this, all things considered, can only be monotonous and ultimately unbearable” (Spe Salvi 10 § 2).

The Experience of God

There are a number of attitudes and phenomena which can be blamed for the loss of hope in eternal life. Some Christians put little stock in the resurrection simply because they are overly attached to this present, shadowy state of life. Others are of the mind that it might happen but show little conviction for the fact that it will happen: the notion of immortality seems just too fantastic; thus the focus is on the here and now. And some even secretly fear that eternal life will be but an endless expanse of tiresome, knee-bending worship—hardly something for which to hope.

While the list could be greatly extended, all of these tragic issues stem back to a diminished—or lack of—faith, hope and charity; and if that is the case, it has come about in Christians due to sin and a lack of the awareness of God’s indwelling presence within the soul. In a word, God is neglected. The heat of fiery love for the divine Other has grown tepid, even cold. The love of God for his own sake, which ought to burn brightly in the depths of men’s souls, has been replaced with a love for finite, created objects: God, then, by such an attitude, is subjectively relegated to a position below those things he himself has made!

While we ordinarily receive the infused theological virtues of faith, hope and charity through the sacrament of Baptism as we are incorporated into Christ and given the incomparable gift of the Holy Spirit, it is perhaps easier to allow these sublime and supernatural gifts to wane than we would like to admit. Are we burning with faith, hope and charity? If not, why not? These are questions upon which our ongoing life in eternity might well hinge; therefore it would be quite insane to dismiss them.

Here we arrive at an important aspect of our Christian faith: if one ignores God long enough and therefore fails to respond to the divine prompts of the Holy Spirit frequently enough, there is always the danger that God will withdraw his grace: “So, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spew you out of my mouth” (Rev. 3:16).

We can hardly expect God to constantly look upon us with favor and shower us with his blessed gifts if we repeatedly ignore his love and make no effort to give of ourselves in return. Perhaps we have all had the experience of knowing someone who has lost the faith they once had. Very often, such a tragedy takes place in stages and over an extended period of time as the heart is gradually transformed into stone through sin and disrespect for God. Whatever the case, it is crucial to treasure our faith for the magnificent gift it is, respond to God’s grace, live a life of zealous holiness and charity, and unceasingly adore God in prayer for his life-giving gifts of love.

Further, an awareness of the Holy Spirit’s indwelling presence within should be unceasingly fostered through prayer, for those in a state of grace are God’s sanctuary in the Spirit (see 1 Cor. 6:19). If we find ourselves frequently forgetting for an extended period of time the fact that God is immanently present, if we have become largely unaware that God is indeed sustaining us moment by moment, and if the resurrection seems more a fantasy than a future reality, then perhaps our priorities are distorted and our life has taken a wrong turn. If that should be the case, what is to be done?

The Christian Faith: A Life-Changing and Life-Sustaining Hope

It must be remembered that life in and through and with God is a particular way of life: it is a sacramental life lived in full communion with holy mother Church; it is a life lived by way of the cross in union with Christ; it is an interior life of humility and unceasing prayer in adoration of God in which we are conscious of the indwelling Spirit within, whose compassion and love shapes us and guides us toward our final end of eternal beatitude; it is a life infused with wondrous sanctifying grace in complete abandonment to Christ. It is a life lived in intimate union with a Person—not simply with a “something.” It is a wholly new life as royal members of the household of God.

If we are not living this Christian way of life, then it is time to reverse course. “Behold, now is the acceptable time; behold, now is the day of salvation” (2 Cor. 6:2). Like the lost son, it is necessary to take stock of a dire situation, recognize its futility and dangerous nature, and thus return with profound sincerity and humility to the Father, that he may place a ring on our finger and sandals on our feet, that the fatted calf may be killed and the celebration begun (see Lk 15:11 ff.).

The Easter season is a sublime and sacred time in which our heart sings: “The Lord is risen!” The wondrous mystery of the resurrection and eternal life awaits, for if we have lost our life for the sake of Christ (Mt. 10:39), if we have been “united with him in a death like his, we shall certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his” (Rom. 6:5). Sustained by this wondrous and astonishing promise that Christ himself has won for us, our life ought to be re-energized with a new and lasting hope that transforms us beyond what we formerly were: “Indeed, the Lord is risen!”

The Holy Father asks us if the Christian faith is for us today a life-changing and life-sustaining hope. “Is it ‘performative’ for us—is it a message which shapes our life in a new way, or is it just ‘information’ which, in the meantime, we have set aside and which now seems to us to have been superseded by more recent information?” (Spe Salvi 10 § 2). That is a profound and serious question; one which each of us must ponder in his or her own heart.

“O God, who on this day, through your Only Begotten Son, have conquered death and unlocked for us the path to eternity, grant, we pray, that we who keep the solemnity of the Lord’s Resurrection may, through the renewal brought by your Spirit, rise up in the light of life”—The Roman Missal Collect for the Sunday of The Resurrection.

Christ’s peace.

*****

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The introduction in Blessed John Paul IIs encyclical letter Varitatis splendor, “The Splendor of Truth,” opens with these beautiful words: “Called to salvation through faith in Jesus Christ, ‘the true light that enlightens everyone’ (Jn 1:9), people become ‘light in the Lord’ and ‘children of light’ (Eph 5:8), and are made holy by ‘obedience to the truth’” (1 Pet 1:22).

Such sublime words should resonate deeply in the hearts of all, whether Catholic or other Christian or simply men and women of good will, for each of us is created with an inherent desire to become a child of light, that we might be forever immersed in that infinitely nourishing Light of Love: God. Yet how is this accomplished?

That question is, of course, answered by the Catholic Church: Jesus Christ assumed human nature to save us, to give us life, and to make us partakers of God’s divine nature: “For this is why the Word became man, and the Son of God became the Son of man: so that man, by entering into communion with the Word and thus receiving divine sonship, might become a son of God” (CCC 460). We are to enter into communion with the Word: we are to share in the mystery of Christ’s own life.

Further, in Christ man’s being is unveiled and self-disclosed: in the fullness of time, God Incarnate appeared on Earth, born of the sweet Virgin Mary, as the Person of Jesus Christ, as the perfect image of the invisible Father. Since the Son of God has assumed human flesh to himself, lived and breathed as true man while yet remaining true God, all that can be known and said about man, who and what man is and is to become, about his use of freedom and about his destiny, is revealed par excellence in Jesus the Christ.

Our Savior said of himself, “I am the way and the truth and the life” (Jn. 14:6). It is in Christ that man is given life. Therefore the Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches the faithful: “In reality it is only in the mystery of the Word made flesh that the mystery of man truly becomes clear” (359).

The Compendium Of The Social Doctrine Of The Church explains that “Jesus’ followers are called to live like him and, after his Passover of death and resurrection, to live also in him and by him, thanks to the superabundant gift of the Holy Spirit, the Consoler, who internalizes Christ’s own style of life in human hearts” (29).

Freedom Is Not For Freedom’s Sake

While, admittedly, many fail through their own fault to recognize their ultimate human calling, which is an invitation in freedom to share in God’s life, we are nevertheless invited to be made holy by obedience to the truth. And it is more than simply an invitation; for, in his divine wisdom, God created man as a rational and free being who can choose either good or evil and who therefore is the “father of his own being” (CSDC 135).

Those who choose light and truth become what they choose; those who choose darkness and untruth become what they themselves father by choice. A person who lies becomes a liar; a person who murders becomes a murderer. A person who steals is a thief. A person who views religion carelessly, who looks with indifference upon his or her grave duty to worship God, is an indifferentist. Thus the power of freedom to shape our character and our being is self-evident.

Our life or lack of it as children of God hinges on our faith in Christ and obedience to the truth. Further, obedience involves free choice and free choice is the principle of morality. As John Paul II explained, there is an “intrinsic and unbreakable bond between faith and morality” (VS 4). We might believe in Jesus, even pray to him, but if we fail to embrace true Christian discipleship through vincible ignorance or rejection of the Decalogue and the Church’s moral precepts, then we are no follower of the Savior of humankind.

Nevertheless, as Blessed John Paul II tells us, obedience to the truth is not always easy: “As a result of that mysterious original sin, committed at the prompting of Satan, the one who is ‘a liar and the father of lies’ (Jn 8:44), man is constantly tempted to turn his gaze away from the living and true God in order to direct it towards idols (cf. 1 Thes 1:9), exchanging ‘the truth about God for a lie’ (Rom 1:25). Man’s capacity to know the truth is also darkened, and his will to submit to it is weakened. Thus, giving himself over to relativism and scepticism (cf. Jn 18:38), he goes off in search of an illusory freedom apart from truth itself” (Veritatis splendor 1).

The illusory freedom of which John Paul II speaks occurs when the creature attempts to raise itself above the Creator; when man tragically asserts his own freedom over and above God’s divine law and labors to install himself as a god — an illusory position based on a false premiss and which is a grievous lie against the very nature and existence of man.

The Compendium Of The Social Doctrine Of The Church, in speaking of the sin of prideful disobedience in the Garden, explains that “when man stretches out his hand to the tree of life,” he “tries to break through his limits as a creature, challenging God, his sole Lord and the source of his life” (115). It is thus patently insane for men to think that they can indeed challenge God. Yet this is precisely what occurs when it is believed that freedom exists for freedom’s sake, that man can arbitrarily choose this or that, good or evil, according to his own subjective wishes.

“God created man in his image and established him in his friendship. A spiritual creature, man can live this friendship only in free submission to God. . . . The ‘tree of the knowledge of good and evil’ symbolically evokes the insurmountable limits that man, being a creature, must freely recognize and respect with trust. Man is dependent on his Creator, and subject to the laws of creation and to the moral norms that govern the use of freedom” (CCC 396).

The Gift of Freedom: Necessary For Love

Society has often witnessed what might be described as man’s heinous and diabolical uses of freedom: the intentional killing of 50 million unborn children in under four decades of American history; untold numbers of human embryos destroyed under the banner of unrealized yet so called potential medical breakthroughs; the Holocaust and the murder of 6 million Jews; and the millions of Christians martyred in the twentieth century alone. This, of course, is the short list.

Given the possible yet often terrible consequences of God’s gift of freedom to man, one might be led to ask, why did God give to man such a gift? In a word: Love. In order for man to love God, which is the highest use of freedom, it is necessary that he be granted the dangerous ability to choose himself over God — an act which ends in destruction.

“Man can turn to good only in freedom, which God has given to him as one of the highest signs of his image: For God has willed that man remain ‘under the control of his own decisions’ (Sir 15:14), so that he can seek his Creator spontaneously, and come freely to utter and blissful perfection through loyalty to Him. Hence man’s dignity demands that he act according to a knowing and free choice that is personally motivated and prompted from within, neither under blind internal impulse nor by mere external pressure” (CSDC 135).

Jesus Christ: “I Am the Way and The Truth and The Life”

When the rich young man asks Jesus what he must do to inherit eternal life, our Savior emphasizes the importance of keeping the commandments, detachment from material possessions and the necessity of providing for the poor. Then, Jesus invites the young man to perfection and to the highest calling: “Come, follow me” (see Mt. 19:16 ff.).

“It is Jesus himself who takes the initiative and calls people to follow him,” teaches Blessed John Paul II. “. . . [it is] clear that every believer is called to be a follower of Christ (cf. Acts 6:1). Following Christ is thus the essential and primordial foundation of Christian morality: just as the people of Israel followed God who led them through the desert towards the Promised Land (cf. Ex 13:21), so every disciple must follow Jesus, towards whom he is drawn by the Father himself (cf. Jn 6:44).

“This is not a matter only of disposing oneself to hear a teaching and obediently accepting a commandment. More radically, it involves holding fast to the very person of Jesus, partaking of his life and his destiny, sharing in his free and loving obedience to the will of the Father. By responding in faith and following the one who is Incarnate Wisdom, the disciple of Jesus truly becomes a disciple of God (cf. Jn 6:45).

“Jesus is indeed the light of the world, the light of life (cf. Jn 8:12). He is the shepherd who leads his sheep and feeds them (cf. Jn 10:11-16); he is the way, and the truth, and the life (cf. Jn 14:6). It is Jesus who leads to the Father, so much so that to see him, the Son, is to see the Father (cf. Jn 14:6-10). And thus to imitate the Son, ‘the image of the invisible God’ (Col 1:15), means to imitate the Father” (VS 19).

Christ’s peace.

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Man bears within himself an irrepressible desire for communion with the Other who is the Alpha and Omega of life, love and peace. As St. Augustine so beautifully stated: our hearts will not rest until they rest in Thee, O God. The truth about man is that he who lives as if God does not exist remains woefully incomplete, flawed, miserable. Thus the importance of the truth about man and of the Truth who is God.

This unceasing yearning for unity with God, which is rooted so deeply within every man and woman so as to be unremovable, cannot be sufficiently explained merely in the hope of escaping  an encounter with the emptiness found in the world; nor is it only a product of our longing to alleviate that loneliness which often remains an unwelcome guest who all-too-often knocks in the night; nor can it be solely the result of an unfulfilled physical or emotional need. Further, the longing for God found in the human heart runs far deeper than simply an effect of the want to remove suffering. Taken in toto, in all, these things fail to adequately explain our hunger for God.

All men experience—whether clearly recognized or not, whether sincerely admitted or not—an unrelenting movement within their being which reaches for something beyond itself and which thirsts to transcend the boundaries of man’s finitude: we crave a participation in the supernatural life of the Other: our God who is Creator and Author of Life. Man’s thirst—an unquenchable, inescapable and continuous thirst—is for the Infinite, the Eternal, the Love who is Lord and giver of life.

Why is this so? The answer is self-evident: man is made for the Creator who himself has made man. That is why man is homo religiosus: religious man. In the Creator’s infinite wisdom, he has made us men of religious thirst: men who long to worship God, to abandon ourselves to the Other who is our origin and end, and who experience an intrinsic need to share as fully and completely as possible in the sublime life of the Holy Trinity. Our human fulfillment and flourishing, our brotherly and sisterly freedom, our happiness as man, love and joy and peace and truth and goodness, all these are attainted in their totality in God alone.

Man: Called Into The Womb of Holy Mother Church

So critical is the understanding of man’s relationship with God, the Catechism of the Catholic Church at the outset explains the origin of our insatiable thirst for communion with the Creator:

“God, infinitely perfect and blessed in himself, in a plan of sheer goodness freely created man to make him share in his own blessed life. For this reason, at every time and in every place, God draws close to man. He calls man to seek him, to know him, to love him with all his strength. He calls together all men, scattered and divided by sin, into the unity of his family, the Church. To accomplish this, when the fullness of time had come, God sent his Son as Redeemer and Savior. In his Son and through him, he invites men to become, in the Holy Spirit, his adopted children and thus heirs of his blessed life” (§ 1).

The Father calls all men across the vast sphere of the earth to become members of the divine family: baptized sons and daughters who freely reside within mother Catholic Church. It is here, within the guiding and nourishing womb of the Church, that the sacraments of life—instituted by our Savior in order to usher us into the kingdom of heaven—are conferred upon the faithful “that they may have life, and have it abundantly” (Jn 10:10) in Christ.

If we trace this wondrous invitation to abundant life to its specific, historical origin, we find it became a reality in first the conception and then the birth of the Prince of Peace: here, we stand with the shepherds in the solitude of Bethlehem and, along with the sweet Virgin Mother whose fiat brought salvation into the world, gaze into the eyes of the Christ Child who is Savior and Redeemer. The Star who infinitely outshines every star in the cosmos has risen in the East. The eternal Word of God is made man for our sake: the gates of heaven are unlatched, and, through the Paschal Mystery, they are swung open.

Thus St. Bernard was able to write: “Notice that peace is not promised but sent to us; it is no longer deferred, it is given; peace is not prophesied but achieved. . . . As the Scriptures tell us: A little child has been given to us, but in him dwells all the fullness of the divine nature. The fullness of time brought with it the fullness of divinity. God’s Son came in the flesh so that mortal men could see and recognize God’s kindness.”

The Light Shines In The Darkness

Yet we could not know of such a wondrous and incomparable reality with certainty if not for holy mother Catholic Church, the city of truth, founded twenty centuries ago by Christ upon St. Peter (see Mt. 16:17-19) as the household of the living God and the pillar and bulwark of truth (1 Tim. 3:15). This is so because God’s revelation to humankind through his Son is deposited within the living body of the Church (the depositum fidei); and there it is cherished, guarded by the Holy Spirit and transmitted in its fullness to the nations. A world without the Church is therefore a world of uncertainty, a place of groping and anxiety born of ignorance, an earthly residence of confused darkness lacking in wisdom and purpose.

Those who reside in full communion with the Church also reside in full communion with the fullness of truth. It is Christ, the head of the Church, who said, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life” (Jn 14:6). The purpose of life, how we are to live and act, what we must believe in freedom and love, who we are called to be, and the destiny which awaits us, is unveiled in the words of truth spoken by the Church. Within the Church, men access the treasure buried in the field (Mt 13:44), and attain the highest possible human hope as members of the body of Christ. The city of truth is thus both our earthly and eternal home of peace.

Moreover, it is the Holy Spirit, the soul of the Church, who inspired St. John, the beloved disciple and one of the first children of the city of truth, to write the following astounding and magnificent words which, again, draw us back to the origin of that irrepressible thirst found in the human heart:

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God; all things were made through him, and without him was not anything made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men” (Jn 1:1-4).

To Live Catholic Is To Live In Christ

It is Christ who gives to the Church her life, light and mission. Since the Church is Christ’s Mystical Body, we can say in a real sense that the Church is Christ (cf. Lumen Gentium 7). “For by one Spirit we are all baptized into one body—Jews or Greeks, slaves or free . . .” (1 Cor. 12:13). By virtue of our Christian baptism, we are grafted as branches onto the vine of the Risen Lord: “I am the vine, you are the branches” (Jn 15:5).

However, the Church is not merely an invisible, abstract concept in which membership is gained simply in confessing belief in Jesus the Christ, as if an affirmation of Christian faith and “church” are entirely synonymous. Rather, the Church is an authoritative, specific and definite, divine and human community of persons: a visible and invisible reality in which we truly reside in the kingdom of heaven—albeit here imperfectly. Life in the Church is life in Christ.

All this began when the eternal Word of God assumed human flesh and then, in the quiet, far-removed village of Bethlehem, was laid in a poor manger. Here, in the stillness of humble poverty, gaudium de veritate, joy in the truth, becomes a reality. The eternal Word emptied himself and become man for our sake. Even as a Child in the Virgin’s arms, the shadow of the cross is cast upon the Savior. That shadow, too, is our destiny as we enter into the Paschal Mystery, as we make Christ’s life our life. Although the way of the cross might mistakenly be taken as a cause for fear, let it not be so. For God has given his life as man that man may have life in God.

Let us speak plainly: we stand on the horizon between the present and eternity. With each passing moment, our journey across the sea of earthly life nears its inevitable completion. There are storms which lay on the horizon, from which destructive winds labor in an effort to dash us against the rocks of sin and confusion. This journey, lest it end in failure, must be one of love for the truth, and hence must be carefully directed toward the highest and greatest Truth: God. It was our Savior who said, “If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free” (Jn 8:31-32).

From our Savior’s pierced side on the cross poured forth his sacred blood and water, forming the Church, the Bride of Christ and the sacrament of salvation. Within the secure womb of the Church, the unrelenting thirst for communion with God and truth is both recognized and satisfied. It is within her tender arms, a place of holy dwelling, in which men experience the highest and most sublime solidarity as members of Christ’s one body; it is within her bounds that Light is seen, tasted and lived. It is by her maternal guidance that we sail securely. It is by her hand that men are taught how to live and how to die.

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (Jn 1:5).

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Behold, Light has come into the world

By F. K. Bartels
30 December, 2010

The Star has risen in the East: ineffable light shines forth from the cave nestled in Bethlehem. In radiant splendor, the Christ Child who long ago came into the world for our salvation yet again turns his eyes of mercy upon us, transforming us beyond ourselves, infusing our hearts and lives with his own sublime and consoling warmth. As we plumb the boundless depths of the Nativity, we find there exposed in brilliant majesty the incomparable love of God Incarnate, the Second Person of the Holy Trinity who willed to set aside for a time his great power and magnificence in order that he may become a humble Child of human flesh, grow into a Man, and pour out his salvific blood and water from the cross in the ultimate act of selflessness. We find there, also, the supreme and inexpressible gifts of mercy, life and hope which are contained in this wondrous Child who is the origin and source of our own life—past, present, and future.

As we look upon this beautiful Child, this Star of burning, Trinitarian Love laid in a manger of simple poverty, there is no avoiding the shadow of the cross that is cast upon his life. It was this shadow of which Simeon, the righteous and devout man in the temple, spoke these mysterious words to the Virgin Mary: “and you yourself a sword will pierce” (Lk 2:35). This shadow is cast also upon all those who love the Child, for their lives are bound up in the mystery of Christ’s own life. Consequently, in a sense, Simeon’s words apply to every Christian who is wounded by the divine sword of Love.

"and you yourself a sword will pierce" (Lk 2:35).

We often forget that our own lives, joined to the mystery of Christ’s life, are too a journey in the way of the cross. It is therefore easy—though we understand that our God wills only our good—to give in to the nearly constant temptation which seeks to draw us into distrust of divine Providence. This temptation encourages us to separate those unfortunate, tense or even frightening circumstances we encounter in life from God’s plan for us, as if one cannot possibly be connected to the other. It is helpful to refer to St. Paul’s words: “We know that all things work for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose” (Rom 8:28).

Providence And Happiness

It was St. Augustine who observed that our hearts will not rest until they rest in God. We are “hardwired” for happiness, to live in and with God, immersed in his joy forever. Yet we often fail to understand how to access something of this joy even now, in the midst of what can be a painful existence. Consequently, we set off on an unceasing quest to distance ourselves from every anxiety, and thus begin to live in such a way as to constantly seek change for “the better.” There is a self-inflicted stress in such a life; a nervous movement toward some savored goal which, once attained, turns out empty. It is like chasing a mirage. The image presents itself in what seems such clarity and beauty. Yet it can never be reached. It is an illusion. Suddenly we are struck in the face by the emptiness in life; in distress, we may even feel abandoned.

Further, when what we perceive as a terrible circumstance in life occurs, we find it difficult to imagine how anything good could come of it. We tend to fixate on the arrival of some suffering, closing our eyes to what lies beyond. We self-limit our sight, so to speak: we have an obdurate tendency to evaluate based only on our senses: we see only what reaches the eyes; we hear only what sounds in the ears; we feel only what can be physically touched. Yet to gaze upon the Christ Child is to look far beyond the surface; it is to possess eyes of eternal sight, to hear with hearts of warm love, and sense with the profound depth of the human, spiritual soul.

“Let nothing disturb thee; nothing frighten thee. All things are passing. God never changes. Patience obtains all things. Nothing is wanting to him who possesses God. God alone suffices”—St. Teresa of Avila

If we truly have faith it should not be so difficult to trust God. Understand that what things appear to be on the surface are just that: surface appearances. Beyond our shortsighted vision stands the omnipotent God who is infinitely capable, and who is limitless Love: a personal God who is Creator, who is Father of all, who is tender and compassionate and dependable without fail. Nevertheless, it is unfortunate that many see little but randomness in life and chaos in Providence. Yet it is Providence which is drawing us toward our final state: the fullness of human existence in God’s eternal plan of love. It is Providence that merges the suffering of the cross, which every Christian must endure, with tears of joy, unfolding in the end a divine work of everlasting beauty that is simply, for the moment, beyond our sight. It is in childlike abandonment to Providence, in total trust of the Christ Child’s goodness, that we find true and lasting happiness in the midst of the human condition.

Providence And Human Suffering

There is hardly a more terrifying example of suffering than Auschwitz. In exchange of his life for another, St. Maximilian Kolbe was there subjected to a torturous death. Yet we can be certain that he is now thrilled over what some might see as only a tragic end to his life. With wisdom from heaven, St. Maximilian illuminates the relationship between happiness and the misunderstood circumstances of life: “We are sometimes depressed because we do not see the relationship that exists between our happiness and these circumstances which sadden us; on the contrary, because of our minds’ limitation, we are unable to grasp everything. By having faith in God, even without understanding things directly, we can give him great glory, because we acknowledge his wisdom, his goodness, and his power.”

While the suffering at Auschwitz was horrifically evil, the sadness St. Maximilian encountered there was temporary. Further, by embracing the cross which was presented to him, he transformed suffering into a reality of joy. Is that not what Christ did? By all outward appearances, our Lord’s suffering on the cross was nothing but agony and defeat. Yet in its true dimension it was a success of infinite greatness.

As the frightening realities of the Holocaust raged around St. Teresa Benedicta (Edith Stein), she wrote of the cross which had been placed upon the Jewish people: “Most of them will not understand it. But those who do understand must accept it willingly in the name of all. I wanted to do that. . . . But in what the bearing of the cross was to consist I did not yet know.” One week after arriving at Auschwitz, St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross and her sister Rosa were sent to the gas chambers.

As yet another example, let us consider St. Maria Gorretti: This dear, pure twelve-year-old child was brutally and repeatedly stabbed due to her refusal to let a young man have his way with her. She was hospitalized, but died the next day after publicly forgiving Alessandro. One can only imagine the profound, heart-rending sorrow her mother felt over Maria’s violently inflicted injuries and tragic death. The story does not end there, however.

Eight years into his prison term, Allessandro experienced a disturbing dream in which he saw Maria picking flowers for him. As a result, Allessandro soon converted to Christianity. Twenty-seven years later, his first act of freedom was to visit Maria’s mother and beg her forgiveness. On Christmas, 1937, surrounded by a quarter-million brothers and sisters, Alessandro and Maria’s mother received the body, blood, soul and divinity of the Risen Lord together in St. Peter’s Square.

Pope Pius XII observed that St. Maria is a “martyr for purity.” Could her life have turned out any more perfect? Is she the least bit sad over the evil that befell her during her earthly life? Imagine St. Maria in heaven picking those flowers for her former attacker—a man she truly loves in the fullness and completeness of her Christian life with God. Those flowers may have been many different colors, but each one’s fragrance was Trust.

Just days ago we celebrated the Feast of the Holy Innocents. Furious that he had been deceived by the Magi, Herod “ordered the massacre of all the boys in Bethlehem and its vicinity two years old and under . . . Then was fulfilled what had been said through Jeremiah the prophet: ‘A voice was heard in Ramah, sobbing and loud lamentation; Rachel weeping for her children, and she would not be consoled, since they were no more’” (see Mt. 2:16-18).

St. Quodvultdeus tells us in a sermon, “The [Holy Innocents] die for Christ, though they do not know it. The parents mourn for the death of martyrs. The [Christ] child makes of those as yet unable to speak fit witnesses to himself. See the kind of kingdom that is his, coming as he did in order to be this kind of king. See how the deliverer is already working deliverance, the Savior already working salvation. . . . How great a gift of grace is here! To what merits of their own do the children owe this kind of victory? They cannot speak, yet they bear witness to Christ. They cannot use their limbs to engage in battle, yet already they bear off the palm of victory” (excerpt from Sermo 2 de Symbolo: PL 40, 655).

The mothers of the Holy Innocents now understand the beautiful goodness the Christ Child brought forth from the evils of their children’s death. Their tragic cries have now turned to joy; what once seemed endless unhappiness was actually a pivotal point in the lives of the Innocents. Christ wiped every tear from their eyes.

As the supreme model of Christian trust we turn to the Sweet Virgin who carried the Child in her womb and nursed him at her breast. We can only speculate as to how much she did or did not understand of the mysterious and wondrous life she was to lead as the Mother of God. Of this we are certain: Mary understood suffering, trust and Providence. From that moment the angel Gabriel announced “Hail, favored one!” (Lk. 1:28), to that eve in the cave at Bethlehem, to that heart-piercing sword of agony she experienced at the foot of the cross, the Virgin Mary was and is the exemplar of trust. Rather than attempt to remove herself from what God presented to her, she uttered profound words of pure and complete union with Providence: “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word” (Lk. 1:38).

Christ’s peace.

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Advent is a sacred season of preparation in which we are urged to open our hearts in totality to the ineffable joy and love of the Light of all lights, giving ourselves over in trusting abandonment to the Child-King, in order that the Risen Lord may enter fully into eternal communion with us as adopted sons and daughters of God.

St. Jerome receives the Eucharist: the body, blood, soul and divinity of Jesus Christ: food for eternal life.

We are called, drawn by the salvific will of the Father, to both realize and actualize our membership in the divine family through a life of true Christian discipleship; we are invited to give our fiat now and into eternity with the same sincerity, intensity and fidelity as did the sweet and holy Virgin Mary; we are moved to say, aided by the sublime and regenerative grace of the Holy Spirit, along with St. Andrew, “We have found the Messiah” (Jn 1:41).

Ultimately, Advent finds its completion in our union with God, as we are swept up into the supernatural life of the Holy Trinity. Yet such an incomparable event is not something which merely dwells in a yet-to-be-realized future; nor is it something accessed only after we pass through the thin veil of death which soon awaits us all. As members of holy mother Catholic Church, our thirst for communion with the Triune God is satisfied by the Risen Lord himself, who both announces the great eucharistic feast at his altar as well as provides for it, in order to enable us to consume his own flesh and blood—the food of eternal life.

“Do not labor for the food which perishes, but for the food which endures to eternal life, which the Son of man will give you” (Jn 6:27).

So critical is the reception of the body, blood, soul and divinity of the Risen Lord in the Eucharist that Christ said, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of man and drink his blood, you have no life in you” (Jn 6:53).

Advent: Circumcise The Heart

Preparation, of course, presupposes repentance and conversion. In preparing to receive the Risen Lord in the Eucharist, we would do well to meditate upon St. Paul’s warning that whoever eats unworthily, eats and drinks judgement on himself, because he fails to distinguish the body of the Lord (see 1 Cor 11:27 ff.). Therefore, for Catholics the sacrament of Penance and Reconciliation is an intrinsic element of that total conversion of heart (metanoia) in which we cry out in union with the Prodigal Son: “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me as one of your hired servants” (Lk 15:18-20).

In his book, God Is Near Us, then Cardinal Ratzinger observed that Jesus’ Last Supper “was not one of those meals he held with publicans and sinners,” it was made “subject to the basic form of the Passover, which implies that this meal was held in a family setting. Thus he kept it with his new family, with the Twelve; with those whose feet he washed, whom he had prepared, by his Word and by this cleansing of absolution (see Jn 13:10), to receive a blood relationship with him, to become one body with him” (60).

The Eucharist is “the sacrament of the reconciled,” continued Cardinal Ratzinger, “to which the Lord invites all those who have become one with him; who certainly still remain weak sinners, but yet have given their hand to him and have become part of his family. That is why, from the beginning, the Eucharist has been preceded by a discernment. . . . The Eucharist is the sacrament of those who have let themselves be reconciled by God, who have thus become members of his family and put themselves into his hands. That is why there are conditions for participating in it; it presupposes that we have voluntarily entered into the mystery of Jesus Christ” (ibid.).

It is through the sacrament of Penance that we are reconciled with God and Church: our feet are washed by the healing and regenerative forgiveness of Christ through the Holy Spirit; we are embraced and kissed by the ever-compassionate, tender and loving Father; the familial ring is again placed on our finger, the fatted calf is killed and the celebration is begun (cf. Lk 15:20 ff.).

Eucharist: Life-Blood Dynamic of The Christian

As people of the Church, nourished in the womb of Christ’s immaculate Bride, we reside in the holy dwelling place of the minister of salvation, a loving embrace of truth and unity in which the Holy Spirit both reveals the Son to us and guides us along our destined path. Here, in the arms of the city of truth who is the Church, the Redeemer of humankind gives to men his sacred flesh as spiritual food. Advent calls us to receive as gift the Gift given as Gift.

In the words of Blessed John Paul II, the Eucharistic “sacrifice is so decisive for the salvation of the human race that Jesus Christ offered it and returned to the Father only after he had left us a means of sharing in it as if we had been present there. Each member of the faithful can thus take part in it and inexhaustibly gain its fruits. This is the faith from which generations of Christians down the ages have lived” (Ecclesia De Eucharistia 11).

Since Eucharist is the gift of Christ’s saving work, we can say that this gift of himself is the gift of life for which all of mankind should eagerly thirst. Eucharist is the “ever-living and life-giving power” (CCC 1116) which flows forth from the Body of Christ, nourishing with life those whose love of the Savior has drawn them to the bountiful table of the sacred altar.

In consuming the Eucharist, we receive the Risen Lord, the light and the life of men (Jn 1:4); thus it is truly the life-blood dynamic of the Christian. The Eucharist is therefore spiritual nourishment par excellence, for it is truly the Real Presence of Christ, and thus the highest and most sublime Gift ever possible.

Through the gift of Eucharist, our eyes of faith are sharpened as we enter into communion with Christ and share in his own life. Blessed John Paul II noted that “whenever the Church celebrates the Eucharist, the faithful can in some way relive the experience of the two disciples on the road to Emmaus: ‘their eyes were opened and they recognized him’” (Lk 24:31; Ecclesia De Eucharistia 6).

The Council Fathers informed the faithful that our Savior instituted the Eucharistic sacrifice at the Last Supper “in order to perpetuate the sacrifice of the cross throughout the ages,” entrusting to the Church “a memorial of his death and resurrection: a sacrament of love, a sign of unity, a bond of charity, a Paschal banquet in which Christ is eaten, the mind is filled with grace, and a pledge of future glory is given to us” (Sacrosanctum Concilium 47).

Our Holy Father Pope Benedict XVI notes that the “first element of eucharistic faith is the mystery of God himself, trinitarian love.” For “God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, . . .” (Jn 3:16). “In the Eucharist Jesus does not give us a ‘thing,’ but himself; he offers his own body and pours out his own blood. He thus gives us the totality of his life and reveals the ultimate origin of this love” (Sacramentum Caritatis 7).

The “night is far gone, the day is at hand” (Rom. 13:12). This Advent, prepare to receive the Eucharist: the Gift above all gifts; the gift of incomparable Love: a love so great it cost our Savior’s death in order to provide it. Let us first, though, be purified and reconciled through the sacrament of Penance, a direct encounter with the healing and regenerative grace of God, that we may then fruitfully rise, consume the Risen Lord at the Paschal Banquet, and thus be swept up into the divine life of the Holy Trinity. Then we may truly say: a new day has dawned. The “kingdom of heaven is at hand” (Mt. 3:2).

Christ’s peace.

*****

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St. John of the Cross (Juan de Ypes) was born the youngest of three children in the small town of Fontiveros, Spain, around the year 1542. His father, a disinherited nobleman, Gonzalo de Ypes died when St. John was but an infant, leaving his mother, Catalina, to support the three children through her work as a weaver at the loom.

For St. John of the Cross, the way of the cross is an avenue to sublime union with Christ

About six years later, the family moved to Arevalo, only to move again in three years to Medina del Campo in an attempt to escape conditions of grinding poverty. There, St. John entered a school for poor children, and soon showed a talent for nursing and hospital work. Graced with the abilities of quick learning, he studied Latin and rhetoric at a nearby Jesuit school.

St. John felt drawn to the contemplative life and thus entered the Carmelite monastery at age twenty-one. After excelling in his studies at the Carmelite College of St. Andrew and at the University of Salamanca, he was ordained in 1567, and was given his first assignment in which he was to act as tutor to the Carmelites of St. Anne Monastery in Medina del Campo. It was there, in 1568, that he met the mystic and Doctor of Prayer St. Teresa of Avila, who persuaded him to begin a reform movement among the Carmelite brothers which eventually resulted in bringing new vigor to the order.

However, things were soon to take an ill turn for St. John. Caught in a dispute between the Carmelites of the Mitigated Observance and the Carmelites of the Reform, he was accused of monastic disobedience and imprisoned in December of 1577 at the Monastery of Toledo. For the next nine months, he was locked in a six-by-ten-foot cell, with only meager light filtering in from a small slit high up on one wall.

The Way of The Cross

Temperature fluctuations during his imprisonment were severe: painfully cold winter months were soon followed by the stifling heat of summer. And, as if this were not enough, St. John had to endure cruel floggings on the bare skin of his back—the scars of which he bore throughout the remainder of his life.

It was there, in the seeming unending solitude of the dark cell, that St. John of the Cross composed wonderful poems and canticles which he committed to memory, since pen and paper were luxuries his captors withheld. These would later be used as a basis for his literary works, including his book, The Spiritual Canticle, which is influenced by the Song of Songs.

On reading his spiritual works there is little doubt that, in the empty silence of his captivity, St. John of the Cross was drawn upon the sublime heights of contemplation in the loving embrace of Christ. In The Dark Night, he writes:

“[I] departed from my low manner of understanding, and my feeble way of loving, and my poor and limited method of finding satisfaction in God. . . . This was great happiness and sheer grace for me, because through the annihilation and calming of my faculties, passions, appetites, and affections, . . . I went out from my human operation and way of acting to God’s operation and way of acting” (John of the Cross, Selections from The Dark Night & Other Writings [HarperSanFransisco, 1987], 2).

St. John was no stranger to suffering. Through his intimate experience with loneliness, pain and darkness, he was drawn all the nearer to the God of light and love, peace and consolation. For in union with Christ, the physical evil of suffering is transformed into something beyond itself, into something of wondrous good through the grace of God. After all, although the greatest evil imaginable is the crucifixion of the innocent Savior, that voluntary sacrifice on the cross of the sinless Christ resulted in the redemption of fallen humankind.

In fact, the importance of the cross in the life of the true Christian disciple became St. John’s maxim: “Do not seek Christ without the cross.” For St. John, innocent and voluntary suffering embraced in the way of the cross becomes an avenue to sublime intimacy with the Risen Lord. Therefore, suffering with the Savior is one key to the lofty heights of contemplation, which opens the door to the loving embrace of the Holy Spirit, transforming pain into unheard-of joy. While such a concept is quite foreign to contemporary society, it is entirely compatible with the Gospel:

For instance, Mark’s gospel is written to a Christian community suffering persecution. One could say that Mark is encouraging his contemporaries to endure the cross, since true Christian discipleship consists in both recognizing through faith that Jesus is the Son of God—the Messiah—and then following him in loving freedom along the way of the cross. We are to make Christ’s story our story; our Savior’s life our life.

“If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it; and whoever loses his life for my sake and the gospel’s will save it” (Mk 8:34-35).

But even Jesus’ disciples failed to grasp the full meaning of these words. Thus in Mark’s gospel, only after Jesus draws his last breath on the cross does his full identity break through when the centurion cries: “Truly this man was the Son of God!” (15:39). Through the cross, the true meaning of Christian discipleship is illuminated.

Our Destiny Lies in Making Christ’s Story Our Story

St. Paul, also, was intimately familiar with the sublime theology of the cross: “I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me; and the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me” (Gal. 2:20).

St. John of the Cross lived by the words we find in John’s gospel: “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. He who loves his life loses it, and he who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life. If anyone serves me, he must follow me; and where I am, there shall my servant be also; if any one serves me, the Father will honor him” (12:24-26).

The Catechism of the Catholic Church explains, “Apart from the cross there is no other ladder by which we may get to heaven” (No. 618). Since the cross “is the unique sacrifice of Christ,” in his “incarnate divine person he has in some way united himself to every man, the possibility of being made partners, in a way known to God, in the paschal mystery is offered to all men” (ibid.). Jesus calls his disciples to take up their cross and follow him. “In fact Jesus desires to associate with his redeeming sacrifice those who were to be its first beneficiaries. This is achieved supremely in the case of his mother, who was associated more intimately than any other person in the mystery of his redemptive suffering” (ibid.).

The Christian finds his or her life in appropriating the Paschal Mystery of Christ as their own. The baptized in Christ become fully human, achieve all that we are created to be and all for which we are destined in making Christ’s story our story. The fullness of human flourishing is found in God, yet the way to God is the cross. There is no other way, since it is by the cross of Christ that we are saved. Yet we need not fear this. For our Lord Jesus, who is kindness and love, compassion and peace supreme, calls us to the heavenly banquet through the contradiction of the cross. All we need do is trust and follow.

This Advent, a sacred season of preparation, let us ask St. John of the Cross to intercede for us in order that we may see what he saw, that we may understand the way to Love is through love of the way of the cross.

Christ’s peace.

*****

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“Come, let us climb the LORD’s mountain, to the house of the God of Jacob, that he may instruct us in his ways, and we may walk in his paths” (Is 2:3). As we enter into the sacred season of Advent, one of preparation for the arrival of the Christ Child, it is the Virgin Mary who beckons us to set our eyes firmly upon the Lord’s mountain and to walk in her Son’s paths.

In The Acts of The Apostles, St. Luke speaks of Saul’s persecution of those whom he found “belonging to the Way” (9:2). The term, “the Way,” appears elsewhere in Acts as a kind of code name for the early Christian movement. The life of the Christians was an identifiable one, one in which the Person of Jesus Christ was encountered, embraced, and incorporated into one’s way of life so as to make it his or her own.

“The Way” then became the principle driving force of the Christians as they walked in the mystery of Christ’s life, and thus was not simply an ideal adopted intellectually, but rather something to which they gave of themselves without reserve. The “Way” is thus a life given freely in abandonment to Jesus, who is himself “the way and the truth and the life” (Jn 14:6). This abandonment to Christ is one which burns away disordered attachment for the material and the worldly; it is a “new way” in the Spirit in which misplaced desires are dislodged, supplanting what is mundane with what is beautiful and pure; it is a death to self in favor of an eternal share in the supernatural and superabundant life of God.

And it is the sweet Virgin who both reveals “the Way” and urges us along in it, by the example of of her life and by her unceasing prayers for her children, which pour lovingly forth from her maternal lips. Blessed John Paul II reminds us that it is Mary who provides us with the supreme human example of trust, abandonment, openness to the impulses of the Holy Spirit, and submission to the salvific will of the Father:

“Indeed, at the Annunciation Mary entrusted herself to God completely, with the ‘full submission of intellect and will,’ manifesting ‘the obedience of faith’ to him who spoke to her through his messenger. She responded, therefore, with all her human and feminine ‘I,’ and this response of faith included both perfect cooperation with ‘the grace of God that precedes and assists’ and perfect openness to the action of the Holy Spirit, who ‘constantly brings faith to completion by his gifts’” (Redemptoris Mater 13 § 2).

Mary Opens the Way of Advent

It is the Virgin Mary who, in accordance with the Father’s eternal plan of salvation, is chosen to lead us into this “Way.” For Mary is known and loved by the Father from the very conception of his plan of love for humanity as the sinless mother who would carry the Child—the Father’s own Son—in her holy womb (cf. CCC 488). Immaculately conceived without sin, redeemed from the moment of her conception and “enriched by God with gifts appropriate” (CCC 490-491) to her role as the Mother of the Lord, the feet of the Virgin Mary trod the path of perfection without fault from her earliest days, always fulfilling the Father’s will in complete submission to the divine prompts of the Holy Spirit.

We might reflect on her innocent and tender childhood, seeing her quickly dash about the paths of Jerusalem toward a destination of quiet prayer in the Temple. We might imagine her bright, joy-infused eyes which deeply gazed into God’s creation, recognizing there, in the work of the Father’s hands, the sacred and the sublime. And always Mary’s life was a life of beauty and preparation in anticipation of her singular calling as the Mother of God. For Mary is the Immaculate Conception from the beginning of her existence in her own mother’s womb to the Annunciation to the Cross and beyond into eternity.

Mary opens the way of Advent. If we look into Mary’s eyes, she smiles, then turns her gaze toward her Son in order that our own eyes are led in the best and most proper direction, that we look upon “the Way” and then rise up and enter into it. Always she unveils the meaning of our life by directing us along her Son’s paths: we are to give our life to the Child who sacrificed his life for us.

Mary Beckons Us to Make Christ’s Story Our Own

In fact, Mary is not only an example of perfect self-giving but reveals with unparalleled clarity and in every detail what it means to follow her Son. She urges us to inter into the life of her Son, to make Christ’s story our story; to become as “little Christs.” Indeed, there is nothing in the virtuous Christian life that cannot be found in the life of Mary, since she is not only the first Christian but the Christian par excellence. Mary is the perfect and sinless Virgin who gave birth to “the Way,” the Person of Jesus the Christ, and is therefore raised above all the angels and saints as Theotokos—the Mother of God.

Since Advent is the season of preparation for the coming of the Christ Child, if we desire to enter into this sacred time as fruitfully as possible, it is important to turn to Mary with love, to cultivate and nourish a relationship with her as our spiritual mother, since it is Mary who brought the Child into the world. Consequently, it is difficult—perhaps impossible—to know the Child as intimately as we ought if we neglect his tender Mother.

Who would dare bypass Mary yet enter the quiet place of the Child’s birth and lift the newborn Babe from the manger? Is it not more appropriate to first greet Mary? Is it not best to first ask the Virgin, who gave her life for her Son, if we might touch and hold and kiss the Child?

However, though we might treat Mary with neglect, the sweet Virgin nevertheless takes us by the hand, guides us to the manger, and beckons us to pick up the Wonder-Child who is destined to redeem humankind. For our spiritual mother knows not selfishness. She invites us to take the Child in our arms, look into his eyes, and exchange our heart with his—not for a moment, but for all eternity. We need only look into Mary’s eyes in silence to understand.

Mary: Look at My Son

Ultimately, Advent calls us to trust in Christ, for we could not prepare for the coming of the Child if not for the gift of faith which can only be fully realized in trust. As Pope Benedict pointed out to the youth in Rome before the opening of the twenty-first World Youth Day, there is a certain amount of courage involved:

“What does the Lord want of me? Of course, this is always a great adventure, but life can be successful only if we have the courage to be adventurous, trusting that the Lord will never leave me alone, that the Lord will go with me and help me.”

Is not this what Mary herself clearly demonstrated at the Annunciation? Is not her fiat the greatest example of a trustful and courageous faith? Hear the words of Blessed John Paul II:

“Mary uttered this fiat in faith. In faith she entrusted herself to God without reserve and ‘devoted herself totally as the handmaid of the Lord to the person and work of her Son.’ And as the Fathers of the Church teach — she conceived this Son in her mind before she conceived him in her womb: precisely in faith! Rightly therefore does Elizabeth praise Mary: ‘And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her from the Lord’” (Redemptoris Mater 13 § 4).

Advent calls us to preparation, to strengthen our faith with the help of the Holy Spirit, to enter into that quiet place with the Child—there we find true meaning in our life. It is a place where all that we are is revealed; it is a place in which the Day Star rises in the East, driving out the darkness, replacing it with an ineffable light of Love which can never be forgotten nor extinguished.

Mary urges us to enter into Advent, into “the Way.” As we gaze with the eyes of faith upon that mystery which is anticipated in Advent, looking ahead toward the Child who lay in the manger,  Mary whispers: look at my Son. “Do whatever he tells you” (Jn 2:5).

Christ’s peace.

*****

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One point of contention between Catholics and many Protestants is the subject of Tradition. Protestants maintain that the Bible alone (sola scriptura) is the sole rule of faith; neither the authority of the Catholic Church nor the existence of Sacred Tradition should play any role in determining what Christians believe. Simply, if an aspect of faith or morals is not explicitly defined in Scripture, then it does not apply—it is an “invention.”

Catholics see things differently. While we acknowledge the primacy of Scripture, we too insist on accepting Tradition with equal reverence. For Catholics, the Christian is to fully assent with intellect and will to all God has revealed to his people—which includes Sacred Tradition, Sacred Scripture, and the Catholic Church as a divinely willed and founded, definite and specific, infallible institution of authority on matters of faith and morals. Catholics understand the fullness of truth revealed by the Person of Jesus Christ to the apostles under the guidance of the Holy Spirit—the deposit of faith—subsists in the Catholic Church. The fullness of truth is thus safeguarded by the threefold pillar of Tradition, Scripture and Magisterium (teaching authority of the Church).

“It is clear therefore that, in the supremely wise arrangement of God, sacred Tradition, Sacred Scripture, and the Magisterium of the Church are so connected and associated that one of them cannot stand without the others” (Catechism of the Catholic Church § 95).

What Is Sacred Tradition?

Perhaps the brunt of misunderstanding regarding Tradition common to Protestantism flows from the notion that Tradition is something “man made.” Thus it is often viewed by Protestants as something outside of God’s revelation, as an intrusion on Scripture. This view is most likely due to a failure to properly distinguish between customs and Tradition. There are, of course, customs which have developed over time in the Church which are utilized by Catholics. An example is the vestments worn by priests and deacons during the Liturgy of the Mass. There are many other customs that could be listed. Catholic apologists often refer to these customs as “small ‘t’ traditions.” Nevertheless, Sacred Tradition is distinct from customs or small “t” tradition, since it is God’s revelation deposited within the living body of the Church. Tradition is God’s word to his people, just as surely as is Scripture. Tradition is God’s self-disclosure, it therefore matters and is vitally important to the life of the Christian.

Thus the Catholic Church professes the indispensable necessity and importance of Tradition. In fact, apart from Tradition, the threefold pillar of truth that upholds the one, true Christian religion transmitted by the Catholic Church in its fullness cannot stand. This is so for several reasons. Among them is the fact that Tradition existed before the New Testament as God’s revelation to his people, the living body of the Church. That is, the apostles transmitted to the people and to the nations the revelation of Jesus Christ under the guidance of the Holy Spirit before the N.T. existed. Hence, the revelation of Jesus Christ was initially transmitted as oral Tradition. Some of that public revelation (most of it), which again flowed from the font of Tradition as its source, got written down in the N.T. by the evangelists. Thus Tradition and Scripture are a twofold source of the same oneness of truth. Both are God’s revelation. However, historically speaking, Tradition is the first born of the two.

Therefore we can accurately say that Scripture is not the totality of God’s pubic revelation. Rather, it is that portion which is written. But that part of revelation which was not written in the N.T. nevertheless remains God’s revelation. It does not cease to be simply because it is unwritten or outside of Scripture. God is not the God of a book only; nor is the Christian religion the religion of a book. God does not reveal himself in the written word only. To hold that he does, is entirely contrary to history as well as to reason. For instance, in O.T. times God revealed himself to his People Israel, then the sacred authors wrote down what was held as a matter of oral tradition within that same People. Stated another way, what is written of God first has to be revealed to a people by God. It is not the other way around. From here it is easy to see that if one is concerned with the whole of God’s revelation, one must be concerned with Tradition as it is held and guarded in the living body of the Catholic Church.

Another element involved in the Tradition and Scripture equation is the Magisterium of the Catholic Church, as mentioned above. While it is beyond the scope of this article to go into detail regarding the Magisterium, it is enough to know that it is the teaching authority of the Church.

Some might question why such an authority is important. The Magisterium is necessary in order to safeguard from corruption the fullness of truth revealed by Christ. For instance, it is plainly obvious that, in contemporary Christendom, there are thousands of different interpretations on the meaning of Scripture. However, the Holy Spirit is not divided; nor does the Spirit first say this and then that. The Spirit is the Spirit of Truth. The multiplicity of contradictory scriptural interpretations present in contemporary Protestantism is not the work of God. It is only through the authority of an infallible Church guided by the Holy Spirit that the true meaning of Scripture as well as Tradition can remain uncorrupted and therefore transmitted in its fullness. It is in the Catholic Magisterium guided by the Holy Spirit, which consists of the Roman pontiff and the bishops in communion with him, in which we are insured of access to the objective truth.

In practical terms, this means that if Christians are reading from Scripture alone, embracing a position of isolation from or rejection of the living Tradition and authoritative Magisterium of the Catholic Church, they are removing themselves from the fullness of God’s Revelation. A Christian removed from Sacred Tradition is a Christian removed to some degree from the fullness of truth.

Why Scripture is Insufficient

How can we know with certainty that not all of God’s revelation is written in Scripture? One answer is that Scripture itself tells us so: “Not everything Jesus said is recorded in Scripture” (Jn 21:25). Also, as mentioned above, it is easy to see that God first revealed himself to his People who, then, wrote down some of that same divine revelation—it is, however, inconceivable to think that all of God’s revelation was written in a book of limited size. But chronologically, it was Tradition first, Scripture after. So it is impossible to have Scripture without Tradition. The Bible did not drop from the heavens, nor can it, since it is a product of both man and God, of human authors who wrote under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit.

Let us also not forget that the Person of Jesus Christ is the totality of God’s revelation, for he is the perfect image of the Father (Jn 14:9). The Bible cannot fully contain the revelation of Jesus Christ due to the fact that the written word has its limitations. Thus again we see the importance of Tradition and the living body of the Catholic Church.

Further, those human authors—the evangelists—who wrote the N.T. were members of the one and only Church in existence at that time: the Catholic Church, which today dates two-thousand years to Christ himself. Therefore the entire N.T. is a Catholic document. It was in the womb of mother Church that the revelation of Jesus Christ was deposited; it was the Church who discerned which books and epistles circulating in the apostolic age were authentically the inspired word of God and thus deserving of canonization into the N.T.; it was in mother Church that the whole of Scripture, both Old and New Testaments was formally canonized; and it continues to be the Church who guarantees the deposit of faith recorded in Scripture remains uncorrupted, transmitted in its fullness as a beacon of light in a darkened world. For these reasons and others we can truly say that the Catholic Church “is the mother of the Bible, not its child” (Rev. O’Brien).

Pope Paul VI wrote, “It is right to say, therefore, that if it was the Word of God that summoned and brought forth the Church, it was the Church, for its part, that was in a certain way, the womb of the holy Scripture, . . .”

Tradition Transmits the Word of God in Its Entirety

We can say that the Catholic Church is the mother of the Bible by virtue of the successive events which played out in the history of the Church: a) the Catholic Church was first founded  by Christ upon St. Peter, the Rock, who was given the keys to the kingdom and the power to bind and loose (see Mt. 16:17-19; note also that the power to bind and loose was later given to all the apostles in Mt. 18:18); b) Christ sent forth his apostles to preach whatsoever he had commanded them (see Mt. 28:18-20); c) the apostles transmitted the faith to the nations through oral teaching; d) the N.T. was written by the apostles and their immediate successors.

The Catechism of the Catholic Church explains: “Sacred Scripture is the speech of God as it is put down in writing under the breath of the Holy Spirit.

“And [Holy] Tradition transmits in its entirety the Word of God which has been entrusted to the apostles by Christ the Lord and the Holy Spirit. It transmits it to the successors of the apostles that, enlightened by the spirit of truth, they may faithfully preserve, expound, and spread it abroad by their preaching.” (CCC 81; Dei Verbum 9).

Note that Sacred Tradition transmits the Word of God in its entirety. Why is this so? Simply, Scripture is a product of Tradition. They are not two separate things as if one can fully exist in isolation without the other. The whole Gospel is the divine word of revelation deposited in the Church. As a result, Sacred Tradition is a foundational element of the wholeness of the Christian religion as Christ so revealed it. Scripture alone is partial.

Consequently the Church, to whom the transmission and interpretation of Revelation is entrusted, “does not derive her certainty about all revealed truths from the holy Scriptures alone. Both scripture and Tradition must be accepted and honored with equal sentiments of devotion and reverence.” (CCC 82).

As Reverend Thomas McGovern points out in Magisterium, Scripture and Catholic Exegetes, the written word contained in the Bible has limits: “The Bible, like any other written text subject to the limitations of human language, is open to a variety of interpretations, since the written word cannot encapsulate the whole of reality; this is particularly the case when human language is used to articulate the unfathomable mysteries of the triune God. The salvific truths of divine Revelation, culminating in the Person and life of Christ, constitute a reality which surpasses the historical dimension of the redaction of the books of Scripture. Consequently, it is to be expected that some aspects of the totality of Revelation would not be expressed clearly, with all their implications, in the biblical text. Thus it is necessary to have recourse to the living and total reality of Revelation, of which the [Catholic] Church is in possession by divine design, in order to clarify and explicate the deep riches of the written word.”

The Bible Itself Tells Us to Adhere to Tradition

“Hold fast the form of sound words, which thou hast heard of me, in faith and love which is in Christ Jesus” (2 Tim 1:13).

“But we command you, brethren, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that you withdraw from every brother who walks disorderly and not according to the tradition which he received from us” (2 Thess 3:6)

“I praise you because you remember me in everything and hold fast to the traditions, just as I handed them on to you” (1 Cor 11:2).

“Therefore, brothers, stand firm and hold fast to the traditions that you were taught, either by an oral statement or by a letter of ours” (2 Thess 2:15).

Sacred Tradition is Integral to The Fullness of Truth

“Christ the Lord, in whom the entire Revelation of the most high God is summed up, commanded the apostles to preach the Gospel, which had been promised beforehand by the prophets, and which he fulfilled in his own person and promulgated with his own lips. In preaching the Gospel, they were to communicate the gifts of God to all men. This Gospel was to be the source of all saving truth and moral discipline” (CCC 75).

Note that Christ commanded the apostles to “preach” the Gospel, not write it down. It was first oral preaching of divinely revealed truths (Tradition) and, second, the New Testament. Further, in order for the Gospel to remain a source of “all saving truth and moral discipline,” it is imperative that all the truth revealed to the apostles be passed on to future generations, not simply what was written in the N.T. This is accomplished through apostolic succession in the Catholic Church, which allows the authority and teaching office entrusted to the apostles to be passed on to their successors, the bishops, that future generations of the faithful would receive the fullness of God’s Revelation.

Through Tradition, “the Church, in her doctrine, life, and worship perpetuates and transmits to every generation all that she herself is, all that she believes. The sayings of the holy Fathers are a witness to the life-giving presence of this Tradition, showing how its riches are poured out in the practice and life of the Church, in her belief and her prayer” (CCC 78).

Christ’s peace.

*****

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