St. Peter Canisius Apostolate

From In Conversation with God: Volume One: Advent and Christmastide, First Sunday of Advent:

“At that time, Jesus said to His disciples: Take heed, watch and pray; for you do not know when the time will come … Watch, therefore — for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or in the morning — lest he come suddenly and find you asleep. And what I say to you I say to all: Watch!” (Mark 3.33-37)

To maintain this state of alertness we need to struggle, for we all have a tendency to live with our eyes fixed on the things of the earth. Especially during this time of Advent let us not forget that our hearts are darkened by gluttony and drunkenness and the cares of this life, and so loose sight of the supernatural dimension which every action of ours should have as its milieu. St. Paul compares this guard over ourselves to that of “the well-armed soldier who does not allow himself to be taken by surprise.” This adversary tries to wreak havoc in whatever way he can; and since he does not devise his tactics without attention to detail, neither should we.

We will remain at the ready if we are attentive to our personal prayer, which enables us to avoid lukewarmness and the dwindling and cooling of our desires for sanctity. We will be constantly on the alert if we do not become slipshod about those little mortifications which keep us awake to the things of God. We will remain attentive through a refined examination of conscience, which makes us look to those points at which, almost without noticing it, we are departing from our path.

We normally don’t think of Advent as a penitential season. In fact, I must confess that in past years Advent for me has been little more than a countdown to Christmas.  This year, however, I’m making a point to be more serious about entering into the spirituality of the season itself — to live it as a time of anticipation and preparation. I found that the above passage not only provides the rationale for such an attitude (we are tempted by many things during this time of year, and therefore we must pay attention to the details of our spiritual life), but at it also offers some solid points on how to live this season (an attentiveness to prayer, mortification, and our examination of conscience).

If there’s any point in the liturgical season during which the Church calls us to an attitude that is at odds with our culture, it is Advent. Society, in general, is focused on slowing down for the holidays and putting off things until next year, whereas the Church calls us to be more attentive to the basics of the spiritual life. And during a time in which we are to make lists of “all the things we want,” part of our meditation is on a family who had so little that their first and only child had to be born in a cave, swaddled in rags, and placed in a trough for a bed.

Though I’m not sure how I’d change my family’s celebration of Christmas — with a wife and kids, not to mention grandparents and two aunts, I can’t just call it off — but I am thankful for feeling ill over how far removed our Western culture in general and my own circumstances in particular are from the spirit of Advent. Perhaps that’s how it should be.

From Archbishop Charles Chaput’s Render Unto Caesar: Serving the Nation by Living Our Catholic Beliefs in Political Life:

A man may claim he loves his wife. His wife will want to see the evidence. In like manner, we can talk about God all we please, but God will not be fooled. Jesus told the story of the sheep and the goats (Matthew 25.31-46) for a reason. Saying we’re Catholic does not mean we are, except in the thinnest sense. Relationships have consequences in actions. Otherwise, they’re just empty words. Our relationship with God is no exception. When Jesus asks Peter, “Do you love me?” and Peter answers yes, it’s no surprise that Jesus immediately follows with: “Then feed my sheep” (John 21.17). God loves us always. We can choose to ignore that. All of the damned do. But if we claim to love him, it’s an “if/then” kind of deal, with obligations of conduct and personal honesty just like any good marriage or friendship.

From Pope Paul VI’s Evangelii Nuntiandi (On Evangelization in the Modern World)

Above all the Gospel must be proclaimed by witness. Take a Christian or a handful of Christians who, in the midst of their own community, show their capacity for understanding and acceptance, their sharing of life and destiny with other people, their solidarity with the efforts of all for whatever is noble and good. Let us suppose that, in addition, they radiate in an altogether simple and unaffected way their faith in values that go beyond current values, and their hope in something that is not seen and that one would not dare to imagine. Through this wordless witness these Christians stir up irresistible questions in the hearts of those who see how they live: Why are they like this? Why do they live in this way? What or who is it that inspires them? Why are they in our midst? Such a witness is already a silent proclamation of the Good News and a very powerful and effective one. Here we have an initial act of evangelization. The above questions will ask, whether they are people to whom Christ has never been proclaimed, or baptized people who do not practice, or people who live as nominal Christians but according to principles that are in no way Christian, or people who are seeking, and not without suffering, something or someone whom they sense but cannot name. Other questions will arise, deeper and more demanding ones, questions evoked by this witness which involves presence, sharing, solidarity, and which is an essential element, and generally the first one, in evangelization.

My favorite prayer to say after receiving Holy Communion is commonly known as the Prayer of St. Ignatius. That’s St. Ignatius of Loyola, the founder of the Jesuits. There are various English translations; the one I pray goes like this:

Take, Lord, and receive all of my liberty: my memory, my understanding, and my entire will, all that I have and possess. Thou has given all to me; to Thee, O Lord, I return it. All is Thine; dispose of it according to Your Will. Grant me your love and your grace, for these are sufficient to me.

The reason I like to pray this prayer after Holy Communion is because it’s the best response to what Our Lord Jesus has just given to us. In and through Holy Communion, he has given us himself: his body, blood, soul, and divinity. He has given us all that he is, and all that he has. He can give us nothing more than what he’s given us in and through Holy Communion.

For me, the only acceptable response to this complete self-giving of Our Lord to us is the complete self-giving of us to him. And that’s what the Prayer of St. Ignatius of Loyola does.

We tell Our Lord to take all of our liberty — by which we give him all of our freedom. We give him our memory (that is, our thoughts), our understanding (that is, what we choose to learn), and our will (that is, our desires). When we give him these things, we give him all that we have and possess.

After we give Our Lord all that we are and have, we tell him to use us as he desires. This is another way of saying what we say in the “Our Father” — Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. We are actively aligning our will — our wants, goals, desires, aspirations, ambitions, etc. — to the will of God. Whatever that might mean for us.

Then we tell Our Lord that all that we desire from him is his grace and love, which, if we think about it, we have already received in Holy Communion. So this great prayer of St. Ignatius ends with the recognition that we have received, in the Eucharist, the one thing necessary for our spiritual lives. Personally, I can’t think of a better prayer to say after receiving Holy Communion.

But I don’t think this is the only prayer that should be said after Holy Communion. That moment is, after all, the most intimate time with have with Our Lord; the prayers we say should be personal.

Therefore, I am interested in your Communion devotion. Not because I’m interested in your personal spiritual life, but, rather, because your approach to Christ in the Eucharist will help me approach him better.

The comment box is open . . . if you’re interested.

An except from today’s meditation from  In Conversation with God:

A certain Asian legend tells of a king and his son. The king bestowed upon the prince a royal endowment that would enable him to live in a worthy fashion for all twelve months of the year. But the king decided that rather than give these things away all at once he would distribute them in daily allotments. In this way the king was able to see his son every day of the year and vice versa.

This legend is somewhat analogous to our relationship with God. “Our daily bread” depends upon the prayers we offer each day. The fact that we ask only for today’s needs implies that we will have another encounter with our Father God tomorrow. This is the way the Father encourages us to be steadfast in saying his prayer.

What strikes me most about this passage is that the emphasis is on the king wanting to see his son. Personally, I find it difficult to believe that God loves me so much he wants me to come to him everyday in prayer — that he wants to see me. I suspect I’m not alone in this, either.

This reminds me of a post I put up a few days in which I cited a passage from Fr. Thomas Dubay. Fr. Dubay said this about the saints: “They make up their minds to take the Lord at his word and with no dilution of his message.”

This passage has haunted me the past few days. Do I really take God at his word? Do I really believe that God wants me to come to him everyday? Do I, as St. Ignatius of Loyola might ask, really believe that if I hand myself over completely to God that I will be shocked at what he desires to give me in return?

Essential questions, these are.

Here’s the reading from Morning Prayer:

In everything you do, act without grumbling or arguing; prove yourselves innocent and straightforward, children of God beyond reproach in the midst of a twisted and depraved generation — among whom you shine like the stars in the sky. (Phil 2.14-15)

It has occurred to me repeatedly over the past year that it isn’t enough to know the faith, we must also live the faith. I must admit, that I’m guilty of not living the Gospel as well as I could.

So here’s my weekend question — not to be answered in the comment box (unless you want) — but to be pondered. I’m going to ask it in the second-person singular; be assurred, however, that I’m asking it of myself.

Here it is:

Have you embraced the all-encompasing nature of the Gospel, or are you guilty of hearing only those parts that appeal to you and turning a deaf ear to those that don’t? Simply, Is your “Yes” to Our Lord Jesus a “Yes” that penetrates every part of your life?

From Zenit. Note how often the Pope says that the Word of God is the ultimate reality. That’s the key to understanding what he’s saying.

The current economic crisis shows the importance of building our lives on the firm foundation of the Word, Benedict XVI affirmed on the first day of the synod of bishops.

The Pope said this today as he offered a meditation to the 244 synod fathers gathered for the first full day of the assembly on the word of God in the life and mission of the Church.

“We see it now in the fall of the great banks,” the Holy Father said. “This money disappears; it is nothing — and in the same way, all these things, which lack a true reality to depend on, and are elements of a second order. The word of God is the basis of everything, it is the true reality. And to be realists, we should count on this reality.”

“We should change our idea that matter, solid things, things we touch, are the most solid and secure reality,” the Pontiff continued. He noted how Jesus spoke of the two possibilities of building a house on the sand or on a firm rock. [See Matthew 7.24-27]

“He who builds only on things that are visible and tangible, on success, a career, money — he is building on sand,” he said. “Apparently these are the true realities, but one day they will pass away.”

Built on sand

The Bishop of Rome continued: “And in this way, all these things that do not have a true reality to count on. […] He who builds his house on these realities, on material things, on success, on everything that seems to be, builds on sand.

“Only the Word of God is the foundation of all reality; it is stable like the heavens and more than the heavens. It is the reality. Therefore we should change our concept of realism. The realist is he who recognizes in the Word of God, in this reality apparently so fragile, the basis of everything.”

Archbishop Claudio Celli, president of the Pontifical Council for Social Communications, afterward told the press that the Pope had invited his listeners to see economy and finances as a “penultimate reality.”

“It is undeniable that other realities, when they are compared to the Word, reveal their limits,” he explained. “They are truly penultimate, but not the final truth.

“The heart of the topic that the Pope addressed is not the current economic situation, but the importance of the Word of God in the path of man. And from this light, other dimensions are like clouds that show their flimsiness.”

When I was an undergraduate, I had to give a presentation on Edward Schillebeeckx’s Christ the Sacrament of the Encounter with God. Schillebeeckx is one of those theologians who went off the deep end in the post-Vatican II era. But back in the late 50’s and early 60’s, when Christ the Sacrament was written and published, he was one of the young lights of Catholic theology — along with Karl Rahner and Joseph Ratzinger.

At any rate, I was assigned to present the first chapter of Christ the Sacrament. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the book, it’s one of the best works on sacramental theology that I know of. The general thesis is this: The only way we can be saved is to have a real encounter with God. Thus, Christ became man so that we might have that encounter. But since Christ is risen and has ascended into heaven, he is no longer present on earth. So how do we have this encounter with God? Namely, through the sacraments. It was my job to explain this in some detail.

During my presentation, in trying to explain that Jesus Christ was the sacrament of God — that is to say, that Jesus Christ was a sensible and tangible reality of God’s salvific presence in the world — I said that every proper human action that Christ did was done by God. Every gesture of kindness — every smile, every wink, every extended hand welcoming a person into his friendship — was an expression of God’s infinite kindness.

Unfortunately, my professor didn’t like this. At the end of my presentation, she said that to understand how Christ is the sacrament of God we must focus on the Paschal Mystery — the passion, death, and resurrection of Christ. “We can’t get caught up into thinking about all the small and insignificant gestures,” she said (or something like it).

Looking back, she had a point. I had strayed from Schillebeeckx’s main point in Chapter One of Christ the Sacrament. I was too young to understand that she wanted an academic presentation, not a spiritual meditation. But her words stayed with me. They created a kind of wall between myself and the gospels. For, you see, back then I was desperately seeking the approval of my professors. That’s what young students do who want to go on to graduate studies and eventually teach on the university level. Being a good student, I learned the lesson well: The narrative of Christ’s life are an object of study, not an object of devotion.

This wall stood erected for years, and it finally fell when I began reading the In Conversation with God books by Fr. Francis Fernandez. It would be impossible to cite all the different places where Fr. Fernandez, in his simple yet profound way, explains, as I once tried to, that every proper human action performed by Christ was performed by God, and therefore reveals the utter transcendent and incomprehensible God. Yet, I want to cite one paragraph:

Mercy is proper to God, according to St. Thomas Aquinas. Mercy had its most perfect manifestation in Jesus Christ. Especially through his life-style and through his actions, Jesus revealed that love is present in the world in which we live — an effective love, a love that addresses itself to man and embraces everything that makes up his humanity. This love makes itself particularly noticed in contact with suffering, injustice, and poverty — in contact with the whole “human condition,” which in various ways manifests man’s limitation and frailty, both physical and moral. The Gospels should inspire in us to rely on the merciful Heart of Jesus in our every physical and moral petition. He awaits our loving please.

I particularly like this phrase: “Especially through his life-style and through his actions, Jesus revealed that love is present in the world in which we live.” Christ’s life-style and actions – through these he revealed God’s infinite mercy and love. If we are in Christ, then our live-style and our actions have the ability, if we are willing, to reveal to others the mercy and love of Jesus Christ.

From a treatise On the Ascent of the Mind to God by Saint Robert Bellarmine (my emphases and comments):

Sweet Lord, you are meek [i.e., gentle] and merciful. Who would not give himself wholeheartedly to your service, if he began to taste even a little of your fatherly rule? [In other words, a true understanding of God is necessary for true devotion; right doctrine is prior to right morality.] What command, Lord, do you give your servants? “Take my yoke upon you,” you say. And what is this yoke of yours like? “My yoke,” you say, “is easy and my burden light.” Who would not be glad to bear a yoke that does not press hard but caresses? Who would not be glad for a burden that does not weigh heavy but refreshes? And so you were right to add: “And you will find rest for your souls.” And what is this yoke of yours that does not weary, but gives rest? It is, of course, that first and greatest commandment: “You shall love the Lord your God will all your heart.” What is easier, sweeter, more pleasant, than to love goodness, beauty, and love, the fullness of which you are, O Lord, my God?

Is it not true that you promise those who keep your commandments a reward more desirable than great wealth and sweeter than honey? You promise a more abundant reward, for as your apostle James says: “The Lord has prepared a crown of life for those who love him.” What is this crown of life? It is surely a greater good than we can conceive of or desire, as Saint Paul says, quoting Isaiah: “Eye has not seen, ear has not heard, nor has it so much as dawned on man what God has prepared for those who love him.” [As I watched the Olympics, I thought of St. Paul’s comparison of the spiritual life to the athlete. All these Olympians ordered every part of their life for the sake of winning a gold medal. How many Catholics can honestly say that we order every part of our life for the sake of winning the “crown of life”? How often do we think of heaven? How much do we desire it? Is it our goal, the center of our life, the treasure of our hearts?]

Truly then the recompense is great for those who keep your commandments. That first and greatest commandment helps the man who obeys, not the God who commands. In addition, the other commandments of God perfect the man who obeys them. [Obtaining heaven has more to do with us becoming the kind of creature that can enter heaven that it has with not displeasing God. If we focus too much on not displeasing God, the effect is that we begin to see God more as an uncompromising taskmaster than our loving Father, Savior, and Sanctifier.] They provide him with what he needs. They instruct and enlighten him and make him good and blessed. If you are wise, then, know that you have been created for the glory of God and your own eternal salvation. This is your goal; this is the center of your life; this is the treasure of your heart. If you reach this goal, you will find happiness. If you fail to reach it, you will find misery.

May you consider truly good whatever leads to your goal and truly evil whatever makes you fall away from it. Prosperity and adversity, wealth and poverty, health and sickness, honors and humiliations, life and death, in the mind of the wise man, are not be sought for their own sake, nor avoided for their own sake. But if they contribute to the glory of God and your eternal happiness, then they are good and should be sought. If they detract from this, they are evil and must be avoided. [St. Robert reminds us that all of things should be seen from the perspective of God's glory and our eternal happiness. Of course, the only way to know which things will aid us and which will hinder us is through ardent and constant prayer.]

(My emphases and comments.)

From a homily by St. John Chrysostom:

Would you like me to list also the paths of repentance? They are numerous and quite varied, and all lead to heaven.

A first path of repentance is the condemnation of your own sins. “Be the first to admit your sins and you will be justified.” For this reason, too, the prophet wrote: “I said, I will accuse myself of my sins to the Lord, and you forgave the wickedness of my heart.” Therefore, you too should condemn your own sins; that will be enough reason for the Lord to forgive you, for a man who condemns his own sin is slower to commit them again. Rouse your conscience to accuse you within your own house, lest it become your accuser for the judgment seat of the Lord. [Notice how St. John tells us to "rouse" our conscience. Our conscience needs to be directed; it needs to be informed so that it can do its job.]

That, then, is one very good path of repentance. Another and no less valuable one is to put out of our minds the harm done to us by our enemies, in order to master our anger, and to forgive our fellow servants’ sins against us. Then our own sins against the Lord will be forgiven us. Thus you have another way to atone for son: “For if you forgive your debtors, your heavenly Father will forgive you.” [This statement from Our Lord Jesus places our salvation in our own hands. It's a frightening thought, isn't it, that God will forgive us with the same forgiveness we show others.]

Do you want to know of a third path? It consists of prayer that is fervent, careful, and comes from the heart.

If you want to hear of a fourth, I will mention almsgiving, whose power is great and far-reaching.

If, moreover, a man lives a modest, humble life, that, no less than the other things I have mentioned, takes sin away. Proof of this is that the tax collector who had no good deeds to mention, but offered his humility instead and was relieved of a heavy burden of sins. [I've slowly become convinced that living a humble life is absolutely essential not only to being a good Christian, but also for effective evangelization.]

Thus I have shown you five paths of repentance: condemnation of your own sins, forgiveness of our neighbor’s sings against us, prayer, almsgiving, and humility.

Do not be idle, then, but walk daily in all these paths; they are easy, and you cannot plead your poverty. [Nothing outside of us stops us from performing these spiritual exercises; the only thing that stops us is our interior dispositions.] For, though you live out your life amid great need, you can always set aside your wrath, be humble, pray diligently, and condemn your own sins; poverty is no hindrance. Poverty is not an obstacle to our carrying out the Lord’s bidding, even when it comes to that path of repentance which involves giving money (almsgiving, I mean). The widow proved that when she put her two mites into the box! [The deep truth of Christianity is that God does not judge us by how much we do, but by how we do it. Little else matters except having a good will -- that is, a will that seeks to conform itself with the will of God.]

Now that we have learned how to heal these wounds of ours, let us apply the cures. [Knowing is one thing; doing is something else entirely.] Then, when we have regained genuine health, we can approach the holy table [i.e., the Eucharist] with confidence, go glorious to meet Christ, the king of glory, and attain the eternal blessings through the grace, mercy, and kindness of Jesus Christ, our Lord.

From a spiritual testament to his son by Saint Louis, King of France (my emphases and comment):

*

My dearest son, my first instruction is that you should love the Lord your God with all your heart and all your strength. Without this there is no salvation. Keep yourself, my son, from everything that you know displeases God, that is to say, from every mortal sin. You should permit yourself to be tormented by every kind of martyrdom before you would allow yourself to commit a mortal sin. [Reminds me of a passage from Veritatis Splendor: "[man] can never be hindered from not doing certain actions, especially if he is prepared to die rather than to do evil.” Both St. Louis and Pope John Paul see resisting temptation as a kind of martyrdom. The Church sees martyrdom as the greatest expression a person’s love for Christ. Just think: we love Christ with a similar kind of love by resisting our own sinful desires.]

If the Lord has permitted you to have some trial, bear it willingly and with gratitude, considering that it has happened for your good and that perhaps you well deserve it. [The Lord's single desire for us is our salvation; therefore, whatever happens to us must be seen as an aid to our salvation.] If the Lord bestows upon you any kind of prosperity, thank him humbly and see that you become no worse for it, either through vain pride or anything else, because you ought not to oppose God or offend him in the matter of his gifts.

Listen to the divine office with pleasure and devotion. As long as you are in church, be careful not to let your eyes wander and not to speak empty words, but pray to the Lord devoutly, either aloud or with the interior prayer of the heart. [Sound advice. Easier to say than to do.]

Be kindhearted to the poor, the unfortunate and afflicted. Give them as much help and consolation as you can. [It seems to me that the cultural and political landscape in America has hardened the hearts of many Catholics to the perennial commandment to help the poor.] Thank God for all the benefits he has bestowed upon you, that you may be worthy to receive greater. Be just to your subjects, [the rest of the paragraph needs to be understood as the advice given from a king to his son, the future king] swaying neither to right nor left, but holding the line of justice. Always side with the poor rather than with the rich, until you are certain of the truth. See that all your subjects live in justice and peace, but especially those who have ecclesiastical rank and who belong to religious orders.

Be devout and obedient to our mother the Church of Rome and the Supreme Pontiff as your spiritual father. Work to remove all sin from your land, particularly blasphemies and heresies.

In conclusion, dearest son, I give you every blessing that a love father can give a son. May the three Persons of the Holy Trinity and all the saints protect you from every evil. And may the Lord give you the grace [we can do nothing without God] to do his will so that he may be served and honored through you, that in the next life we may together come to see him, love him and praise him unceasingly. [It never ceases to amaze me how heaven oriented the saints were. We serve God in this life so that we may see him, love him, and praise him in the next.] Amen.

From In Conversation with God, Seventeenth Week: Wednesday:

The greatest event of our life is our receiving the calling from the Lord, just as it was for those he called on the shores of the lake. Yet to follow Christ wholeheartedly is never easy. The person who enjoys a more or less steady job, who thinks that the pattern of his life is “set,” should recognize the danger lurking in this false tranquility, which may even be considered one’s rightful due. Christ asks us to break with routine, to cast aside the mediocre, to go beyond a life of compromise. With the divine vocation Christ challenges us to undergo a profound change in our daily conduct. God asks for everything, including whatever we may have been reserving for ourselves. He gives us light to see our failings, which we may have up till now looked upon as beyond reforming, but which turn out to be the price for securing the pearl of great value. It is Christ himself who seeks us out, saying, You did not choose me, but I chose you. And when Christ calls, He gives at that same time the graces we will need to follow him, from the beginning of the way and throughout the rest of our life.

This passage speaks primary of the calling of our Lord to follow him. I remember hearing Fr. John Hardon exhorting his listeners to thank God for calling them to be Catholics. It struck me as such a strange way of speaking. Then I realized I had fallen pray to the philosophical view that says all things are random and that it was only happenchance that I was born into a Catholic home, received the sacraments, and was raise a Catholic. That viewpoint undermines divine providence — God’s loving care for his creation.

From a different point of view, we find it difficult to speak of God calling us to be Catholics because that might imply that God did not call others to be Catholics. Once again, it’s our ignorance that allows us to think this way. We have forgotten the basic idea of divine election — an idea extremely distorted in Protestant thought. In Protestant theology, divine election speaks to God calling some to salvation. In Catholic thought, divine election presupposes that we cooperate and participate in Christ’s saving work, not by any merit of our own, but by a free gift from Christ. Therefore, divine election means that God chooses a few to be Catholics so that these few can go out into the world, in imitation of Christ, and bring the Gospel to others. To be elected means to be choose to be a worker for the Gospel.

Once we understand that to be called by God to be a Catholic means to be called by God to engage in apostolic work, then this passage has a greater depth. It’s why Fr. Fernandez begins by reminding us of Christ calling the first disciples from their boats; these disciples would witness to him throughout the world. They were called to be followers of Christ, and contained within that call was a mission to the world.

This is why following “Christ wholeheartedly is never easy.” One can never say, I am a Christian, now I can relax. What I’ve discovered is that the only way to be a content Christian is by placing extraordinary demands upon yourself to carry out the tasks God has assigned you.

From a homily on First Timothy by St. John Chrysostom (d. 407).

Christ has put us on earth to act as beacons that give light, as doctors who teach, so that we might fulfill our duty as leaven…. It would certainly not be necessary to preach doctrine if your lives were so radiant, nor would it be necessary to have recourse to words if your works gave testimony. There would not be a single pagan if we conducted ourselves like true Christians.

These are serious words. They are so clear that there is very little one can say about them. At first, our tendency might be to smile, as if the St. John had extended himself a bit too far — particularly in the last sentence. Did he really believe that if Christians simply behaved as Christians the how world would convert? I have to admit, I think he did believe that.

Of course, there’s never been a time when every Christian lived like true Christians, so it’s hard to say if St. John is right. We do know, however, that Christians who do not behave like Christians are the source of scandal.

As Vatican II teaches: “For, taken as a whole, atheism is not a spontaneous development but stems from a variety of causes, including a critical reaction against religious beliefs, and in some places against the Christian religion in particular. Hence believers can have more than a little to do with the birth of atheism. To the extent that they neglect their own training in the faith, or teach erroneous doctrine, or are deficient in their religious, moral or social life, they must be said to conceal rather than reveal the authentic face of God and religion” (Gaudium et spes, 19).

One has to wonder what the world would be like today if, over the last forty years, we Christians had really lived as beacons of light.

Sacrosanctum Concilium, 2: The liturgy daily builds up those who are in the Church, making them a holy temple of the Lord, a dwelling-place for God in the Spirit, to the mature measure of the fullness of Christ. At the same time it marvelously increases their power to preach Christ and thus show forth the Church, a sign lifted up among the nations, to those who are outside, a sign under which the scattered children of God may be gathered together until there is one fold and one shepherd.

In previous posts we have seen that the Fathers of the Second Vatican Council believed that the four goals of the Council could only be achieved through the renewal of the liturgy, for only through the liturgy does the Church receive the supernatural power to witness to Christ in word and deed. A supernatural power is absolutely necessary to witness to Christ because the Church, having both a human and divine element, can only preach the gospel if its human element has been transformed by and is oriented to its divine element. That’s the background for the passage we’ll be considering today.

This passage speaks of the two effects of the liturgy in the lives of believers. First, the liturgy enables us to grow into mature Christians. The phrase, “mature measure,” is drawn from Ephesians 4.13; read in context, this passage tells us that the Lord gives his gifts so that we “may no longer be children, tossed to an fro and carried about with every wind of doctrine,” but, rather, that we might “grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ” (cf. Eph 4.14-15).

If there’s one thing lacking in the Church today it is spiritually mature Christians. In a natural sense, we call someone mature who shoulders his responsibility without complaint, who sacrifices his own wants and desires for those around him, who works hard, who avoids wasting time, who has a serious mind and does not spend his energy on trivial things. Do not the same principles apply in the spiritual life? Do we shoulder the responsibilities laid upon us by the gospel of Christ without complaint? Are we willing to sacrifice our own licit wants and desires for the love of God and neighbor? Do we work hard, not only in our secular occupations as if for Christ but also in the spiritual exercises to which the Lord has called us? Are we good stewards of the time the Lord has given us? Do we have a serious mind formed by intelligent and assiduous study?

This is the kind of examination of conscience we should submit ourselves to on a weekly basis. And if we find that we are not living a mature Catholic life, then we should offer up the next Holy Mass we attend for the grace to leave childish things behind and “grow up” in Christ.

Only mature Catholics have the power to “to preach Christ and thus show forth the Church.” Though I don’t recall the reference off hand, Aristotle says that the only way to know the beauty of a thing is to see it in its perfection. If you want to convince someone of the beauty of the piano, you don’t take them to a 2nd-grade piano recital; rather, you have them listen to a master pianist performing the work of Bach, Mozart, and Chopin. In the same way, the world will only be convinced of the beauty of Christianity if we can show them that beauty in our very lives. The only hope for our civilization and the world if is we become saints, and that’s possible only through a spiritual life that is rooted deeply in the liturgy.

Here is what St. Paul says to the Thessalonians (from the Jerusalem Bible):

And you observed the sort of life we lived when we were with you, which was for your instruction, and you were led to become imitators of us, and of the Lord; and it was with joy of the Holy Spirit that you took the gospel, in spite of the great opposition all around you. This has made you the great example to all believers in Macedonia and Achaia since it was through you that the word of the Lord started to spread — and not only throughout Macedonia and Achaia, for the news of your faith has spread everywhere. (1 Thess 1.5-8)

Notice what St. Paul says. He and his companions lived a life that was for the instruction of those living in Thessalonica. Though Paul preached the Gospel with words, he also preached it with his actions. It was through the witness of his life that the Thessalonians decided imitated him, and, by imitating him, imitated Christ. And the faithful witness of this small community brought in a great harvest: Many throughout the surrounding regions began to believe.

This reminds me of something Vatican II taught. When speaking of the causes of atheism, the Council said:

Believers themselves frequently bear some responsibility for this situation. For, taken as a whole, atheism is not a spontaneous development but stems from a variety of causes, including a critical reaction against religious beliefs, and in some places against the Christian religion in particular. Hence believers can have more than a little to do with the birth of atheism. To the extent that they neglect their own training in the faith, or teach erroneous doctrine, or are deficient in their religious, moral or social life, they must be said to conceal rather than reveal the authentic face of God and religion. (Gaudium et Spes, no. 19)

So it can work both ways, can’t it? If we live a life worthy of God’s children, we can help people come to Christ. But if we live a life that implicitly denies Christ, we will help perpetuate atheism and unbelief.

Of course, we don’t behave like Christians in order to teach others; we behave like Christians because our deepest desire is to please God. But sometimes we need other motives, and being aware that our lives profoundly affect the lives of others may very well be the kind of motivation we need to live an authentic Christian life.

All of this can be summed up in the excellent saying of St. Francis of Assisi: “Preach the Gospel always, and use words when necessary.”