Dominican Seminar 2010 - The Prodigal Son

This year's Dominican Seminar in Leeds looked at the writing and theology of St Luke. In the opening session, we considered the parables of Luke's gospel. Three parables were chosen for special consideration: Janet Wiltshire OP looked at the Good Samaritan and Patrick Doyle OP pondered the Parable of the Rich Fool. Below is the reflection offered by fr Lawrence Lew OP on the Parable of the Prodigal Son.

"I’d like to offer some thoughts on what is often called the parable of the prodigal son. I think I can only hope to sketch some ideas that will barely scratch the surface of this well-loved parable, but what I wish to do is briefly to consider some elements of this parable within the context of a theology of grace, and particularly of repentance.

The parable is one of three in Luke 15, and they all have in common the notion of repentance, and in this parable we are presented with two sons: one who repents and the other who doesn’t. In the time available to me, I wish to concentrate on the repentant son and indeed on just verses 20-24. Within its context, then, the parable would seem to offer us some insight into how God deals with repentant sinners. I think it is important that the God we consider is always the Triune God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. With this in mind, then, we avoid the easy identification of the father of the parable with just God the Father. Rather, the father of the parable stands for God – Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

Something that strikes me is that in the parable, the father sees the son from a great way off, and he runs out towards him and kisses him. There are two aspects here that I wish to look at: the going out of the father and the kiss. To speak of God as going out seems to me to suggest procession, and the kiss signifies love. So, as St Thomas says, that “what proceeds in God by way of love, does not proceed as begotten, or as Son, but proceeds rather as Spirit”. And elsewhere, in the Fathers of the Church, the Spirit has been referred to as the kiss of the Father and the Son. Hence, I wish to link the figure of the father in the parable to the Spirit.

This is not because the grace of repentance is limited to the activity of the Spirit alone. Indeed, the whole Trinity acts in the economy of salvation, but I think we can say that the work of repentance is appropriated to the Spirit, such that the Church can say that “the Father of mercies … has sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins”. Moreover, I think this emphasis on the person of the Holy Spirit in the work of repentance and reconciliation fits in well with the general Lucan narrative because, as I am hopeful we will see in these days, Luke-Acts is suffused with the Holy Spirit and with people who act under the Spirit’s prompting and inspiration. So, by linking the father of this parable with the Spirit, I hope to tie this parable more closely with a key Lucan feature: his pneumatology.

If I am permitted to make this kind of appropriation, then, let us proceed to consider what God does to the repentant sinner. First, note that the son in the parable says: “I am no longer worthy to be called your son”. And this is what happens when we fall into mortal sin, and so are cut off from the new life of divine sonship that is ours through our baptism into Jesus Christ; hence, the father in the parable says that the prodigal son was dead. In fact, we are never worthy of the grace of adoption as God’s children, which is why the prodigal son does not say, ‘I am no longer worthy to be your son’. No, he says, he is not worthy to be called his son. So too, the Christian who has sinned mortally after baptism cannot be worthy to be called daughter or son of God. And so repentance begins with a realization of the sorry state we are in, and how far we have put ourselves from the filial dignity to which we had been elevated by God’s grace. And we are moved to abhor sin and drawn to God’s goodness and mercy. Thus, the sinner moves by faith towards God, just as the son arose and went home.

But the father does not wait for the son to come to him but has compassion and runs out to him. This reminds me of the divine initiative, for it is God and God alone who stirs up faith in us, and who gives us the grace of repentance and who justifies the repentant sinner. For only God can restore the dead to life, just as only God can create out of nothing. And God does all this because of his love for us, and because he has compassion for us poor sinners.

Then, God does three things to the repentant sinner. He gives him a robe, a ring, and sandals for his feet. These indicate a restoration of the dignity of sonship, of course. But more specifically, I would suggest that the robe can be seen as a reference to being clothed in justifying grace, the grace of Christ which renders us pleasing to God. As clothing, it also calls to mind the restoration of the baptismal garment which we are charged to keep pure and spotless until Christ returns in glory. It is this same white garment that is worn by those who follow the Lamb of Revelations in heaven. So, St Thomas says, this white garment is given as a sign of the glorious resurrection, unto which men are born again by Baptism; and in order to designate the purity of life, to which he will be bound after being baptized, according to Rm. 6:4: ‘That we may walk in newness of life’.

The ring, a signet ring perhaps, bears the impression and seal of the father. So too the grace of baptism and repentance restores us in the image of God, an image which had been disfigured by sin. Since grace transforms us and fashions us in the image of the Son of God, so too the ring is a sign of our restoration to filial dignity as daughters and sons of God.

Thirdly, the shoes, I would suggest are an evocation of friendship with God. For it is Moses who was told to take off his shoes for he stood on holy ground, and the unshod state is symbolic of slavery and servitude. However, since Christ has called us his friends, a friendship which is ours when we are elevated by grace, so we no longer have to be unshod as slaves but are given shoes so that we can, as it were, stand on the same ground with God.

Finally, the father kills the fatted calf and feasts and makes merry with the prodigal son. The image of the banquet, which is given in honour of the sinner, is a sign of the Eucharistic feast. For in the Eucharist, all of us who are unworthy sinners, but who have been given the restorative grace of God through baptism and reconciliation, are called to rejoice and feast together. And this feast is itself a foretaste of the banquet of eternal life with God, which is the supernatural end of the life of grace. Does this mean that the fatted calf stands for Jesus Christ, who dies for our health and salvation, giving himself up so that we may make merry in the eternal feast of heaven? It does not require a terrible stretch of the imagination to move from calling him the Lamb of God, and of course, the calf would one day grow into an unblemished white heifer, which is precisely the Old Testament sacrifice offered to God, a sacrifice that is a prefigurement of the Cross.

So, I think it would not be unreasonable to read the text in this way, and indeed to look at this parable through this theological lens. And I ought to end here before I go too far or take up too much of your time!"

A Common Mistake...

Article in l'Osservatore Romano

[The following article by fr Robert Gay OP was published in the English language edition of l'Osservatore Romano on the 5th of August 2009. It is republished here with permission.]

On the importance of the physical in Catholic spirituality and sacramental life: Sanctified body and soul through the Incarnation

These days there seems to be a great interest in the spiritual life. Many people make the claim to be "spiritual", and its expression takes many forms. Most book shops in the Anglophone world now have a section labelled "Spirituality", and the content of these sections is often a vast array of competing titles, many of which have a New Age or self-help flavour and propose a variety of theories of the human person and the spiritual life. In every understanding of the spiritual life we may come across, there is either an explicit or an implicit understanding of the human person. How we understand the human person has a bearing on how we understand the spiritual life and what its objectives are. Each "spirituality" we may come across will also have its own doctrinal framework, and the spiritual practices that each proposes will be based around those ideas. Books about Catholic spirituality are now few and far between in mainstream bookshops, and represent just one among many competing belief systems in such a section. And yet as Catholics we would claim that our concept of the spiritual life is rich and varied, offering something above and beyond its "competitors". This is rooted in two things: the Catholic understanding of the human person, and the doctrines of the Church.

What is distinctive about the Catholic approach to the spiritual life is the importance that it gives to the physical. This is rooted in the notion that as human beings we are a unity of body and soul. We see this beautifully expressed in the Book of Genesis, where we have an image of God creating the first man from the "dust of the ground, and breath[ing] into his nostrils the breath of life" (1). St Thomas Aquinas, taking his lead from Aristotle, believed that the soul is the form of the human person, "the first thing by which the body lives" (2). Without the soul, the body cannot carry out its proper functions. But at the same time, St. Thomas held that the soul has no natural existence outside the body (3). This close union between body and soul is the reality of what each and every human being is. If we accept this truth, then it follows that it will have an impact on how we conceive of the spiritual life. We can see that the spiritual life is not about an escape from my physical reality, as some New Age perspectives might propose, but about accepting and making use of that reality.

If we consider Creation as a whole, we can learn from both observation of the world and revelation that there are three levels of the created order. The first of these is the purely material, as in the case of the objects that we see in the world around us. There is also creation that is purely spiritual, as in the case of the angels. As humans we are matter and spirit united, and our encounters with the world are influenced by this fact. We should not then be surprised that this reality is also fully utilised in God's dealings with us.

The most concrete way in which we see the importance of the physical comes by looking at the doctrine of the Incarnation. The fact that God makes himself known to us in Jesus the Christ raises the importance of the physical and material world to a new level. The Gospel accounts are entirely focused on the person of Jesus Christ; on what he said and on what he did, and on the significance of his words and his deeds. And Christ's saving work is continued in the Church, in particular when the sacraments are celebrated. It is then significant that through the mystery of the Incarnation, the second person of the Trinity, the Divine Word, became flesh in Jesus. Through the hypostatic union he reveals to us the mystery of the Divine life, which is not accessible by means of observing the world around us. The hypostatic union means that the human acts of Christ are divine acts, which "bring salvation" and are "causes of grace" (4).

The sacraments are an important part of the way in which God communicates his grace, his own life to us. And when we consider our physical reality, we can see how fitting it is that God should give us his grace in precisely this way. Indeed, for St. Thomas, it is essential that a sacrament has a component that requires the use of the senses (5). When we think of the seven sacraments, and look at their rites, we think immediately of visible signs, such as the laying on of hands, the washing with water, the marking with oil and so on.

But sacraments are more than just signs: they are signs which bring about effects. As the old penny Catechism has it, "a sacrament is an outward sign of inward grace... by which grace is given to our souls"(6). The external signs, which involve hearing, seeing and often the sense of touch, are effective because they both impart grace and makes things vivid to us. In the case of the sacraments, it is our faith which becomes vivid (7). When reading St. Thomas' treatment of the sacraments, we can see how he places emphasis also on the words that accompany the symbols of the sacraments (8). This is not surprising, since the sacraments are a means of communicating the Divine life to the people of God.

If we choose to reject the importance of the physical, as is the case for much of the New Age spiritualities, then the sacramental economy ceases to be relevant. And this is problematic in several ways. Rejecting the material can easily lead to the same kind of dualistic ideas that St Dominic founded the Order of Preachers in the thirteenth century to preach against, namely a belief that the material world is somehow a bad thing. However, to hold such a view is to go against the sense of the material, sensible world that we get from reading the creation narratives, namely that what God created was indeed good. Our bodies and senses, far from being an unfortunate hindrance, are a natural part of the way we were made. This is not to say that the fall does not have consequences that damage our ability to use our bodies and senses in the way that is wholesome and good. There is a need for grace, which builds on our fallen nature and redeems it. This is why the salvific grace that comes to us in the sacraments is so necessary and comes to us in such an apt way. Receiving the sacraments is truly an encounter with Christ, and is thus a powerful part of spiritual growth and development.

It is also important that we remember that encountering Christ cannot be seen as a solely individual experience. The celebration of the sacraments is always an action of Christ through the Church. So if we accept the importance of the sacraments in the spiritual life, we also accept the importance of being part of the believing community that is the Church. Rather than the individualistic and private spirituality that New Age spiritualities can often encourage, Catholic spirituality must instead be communitarian and corporate in order to be true to its name.This means that the spiritual life cannot simply be reduced to a vertical "I-Thou" relationship, but requires interaction and relationship with other members of the Church, the people that form the mystical body of Christ.

So for the individual Catholic, the spiritual life necessarily has an ecclesial dimension. The private prayer and devotion of an individual is fed and nourished by being part of a believing community, and by participating in the sacramental life of that community, and can not be separate from that. There is a need for us to recognise how relationships with others are an important part of being human, and the sacraments help to shape our relations with others, and build up the whole Church as the body of Christ.

Indeed, another aspect of taking the physical existence of the human being seriously is taking the social existence of the human being seriously, which means living life as a member of the body of the Church. In our efforts to evangelise, then, we should always be sure that we give special attention to the role of the sacraments in the spiritual life, bearing witness to the fact that the sacraments meet the reality of who and what we are as human beings. A sacramental spirituality one which is realistic about who and what we are as human beings and which shows how that reality is used by God in our salvation will surely be attractive to those who are sincerely trying to search for God. The sacraments speak powerfully of a God who communicates his life to us, taking us as we are and building us up and shaping us through his Son. And in making the power of the sacraments more widely known, we have the perfect response to the spiritual hunger that we see in our world today.

Notes

1. Cf. Gen 2:7

2. St Thomas Aquinas. Summa Theologiae Ia, qu. 76. art. 1

3. Ibid. art. 7

4.Schillebeeckx, Christ the Sacrament of Encounter with God, p. 13

5.Summa Theologiae IIIa, qu. 60, art. Note especially: ‘Est autem homini connaturale ut per sensibilia perveniat in cognitionem intelligibilia'

6. See ‘A Catechism of Christian Doctrine', republished by CTS in 1999

7. See Selman, St Thomas Aquinas:Teacher of Truth, p. 65

8.This is treated in IIIa, qu. 60, art.6, 7 and 8

Ministries, Charisms and Fruits - 13 Interpretation

Our last post spoke of the gift of tongues as a charismatic gift, which manifested itself in the early Church at the time of St. Paul, and was seen as an important way in which the Holy Spirit worked in the Church. Indeed, there are signs that this gift is still given in the Church today, especially amongst those who are part of the charismatic movements. It is a gift that is often regarded with much suspicion by onlookers. It expresses itself as people speaking a series of words that to our ears seem to make no sense. What possible use could this be?

This question is one which was very important also in the time of St Paul. The First Letter to the Corinthians, in speaking of the many gifts, names 'the interpretation of tongues' as an important part of the whole range of gifts (1 Cor 12:10). We see how the gift of tongues is of no use unless the words spoken can be interpreted. Words should never be empty and meaningless, because this is a misuse of language. After all, words are only of use as a way of communicating, and, as such, an individual who speaks in a way that cannot be understood is not communicating at all. The tongues must be interpreted, and this is a gift in itself. This is just one of many ways in which we see how firmly Paul believes that the Christian life is not simply about the individual, but individuals united in a common belief in Jesus Christ, and living a life shaped by that belief.

There are different opinions about the charismatic gifts in today's Church. Nevertheless, there is much that all of us can learn from Paul's writings on the subject. After naming the charismatic gifts, he goes on to show how important it is that, whatever our gifts are, they are used for the building up of the Church. All the members of the Church have a range of gifts, and no two individuals are the same. This reality shows both how important and valued each and every individual is to God and to the Church, yet also how the individual forms part of the whole, and is dependent on the others. As part of the whole which is the body of Christ, the Church, we find both our dignity as individuals and a way of self-transcendence which makes us capable of more than we could ever imagine.

Spiritual notes from a small island...... The Cloud of Unknowing

The Cloud of Unknowing is a fourteenth century work by an anonymous English author. Over the years, there has been much speculation about the identity of the author, and it has often been said that he was a Carthusian monk. One thing that is clear from the text is that its author was certainly learned, well versed in scholastic theology. There is also a very clear influence of Pseudo-Dionysius, whom the author quotes directly in chapter seventy: 'The most Godlike knowledge of God is that which is known by unknowing’. Pseudo-Dionysius, who was then widely thought to be a follower of Paul (see Acts 17), is used as source and authority for the ideas that The Cloud proposes. The author asserts that we can know more about what God is not than about what God is. This theology informs his approach to the contemplative life, and in this he stands among many influential writers, including St John of Cross, who wrote some two centuries later.

Pseudo-Dionysius held that there were two ways of knowing God, through reason (logos) and through contemplation (mustikon theama). The former comes from investigation of what God has revealed, especially in the Scriptures. This knowledge can be negative - God is not x - as well as positive - God is x - but not in any way that we can comprehend - God is utterly other. The Dionysian contemplative way relies on negative theology as its basis. We are limited in what we can know about God, but we can enter into the mystery through contemplation, illuminated by God’s grace. Contemplative knowledge comes only when the senses are purified of reliance on the created order for ideas about God. 

It is this which concerns the author of The Cloud. Whilst the author is reliant on his Scholastic and Dionysian background for his theoretical framework, his work is concerned mainly with the practice of contemplation. The first sense we get from reading the book is that the call to the contemplative life is just that: a call. And this is a work for those who think that they have that call, and are willing to respond humbly, and desire to love God with their whole heart. To undertake this contemplative path involves ‘forgetting all created things’, and the contemplative will find ‘only darkness, as it were, a cloud of unknowing’. This is nothing more than the beginnings of a reaching towards God. This darkness is not a state of mind, something akin to depression, but rather a state of a lack of knowledge. The person is reaching out for the one who is unknown. To live in this cloud, there has to be a ‘cloud of forgetting’ between the person and the created order.

What then does the contemplative think of during meditation? How can one think of and strive for that which is unknown? The author’s answer is: ‘I do not know!’ Feeding the neophyte with images would immediately destroy the foundation of his or her striving for God. This is not to say, however, that the contemplative has no need of knowledge at all. Study of the Word of God is essential, since it is like a mirror, in which we see the face of our conscience. Any dirty marks on the face should be washed by confession. Later, when these aids have been used, the contemplative is better prepared to be still and silent in the presence of God, using a single word to help focus attention. Words such as ‘God’ or ‘Spirit’ can be clung to as a way of keeping all other thoughts about the created order at bay. During prayer many thoughts may come, but these can be harmful. Memories can have a negative effect, even become sources for the deadly sins of anger, pride, sloth, envy, avarice, gluttony and lust. Above all, the author of The Cloud makes it clear that the contemplative path requires humility. This requires self-knowledge, being realistic about who we are, both the good and bad aspects. It is imperfect to start with, because our motives for humility are mixed. We may be motivated by a curiosity about ourselves, rather than a desire to be humbled to receive from God. Only God himself can draw a person through grace to perfect humility, where God, and God alone, is sought.

The Cloud has much to say on the story of Martha and Mary. Mary is the example of the contemplative, who simply sat silent and still with the Lord, ready to drink in what he had to reveal to her. Martha’s activity was important and good, but she had not understood that Mary had a different calling, that of contemplation. The Cloud also makes the link between contemplation and relations with others. It seems strange that in contemplation we are to forget the created order. Does this not have a negative effect on relations with others? The answer seems to be no. When a contemplative has dealings with others, he does not make distinctions ‘between friend or foe’. The effect of the contemplation is that each person is seen as having equal value or dignity. The contemplative endeavour should feed back into the world.

Although not all of us will have the call to be a contemplative of the kind that The Cloud is written for, there are nevertheless many things in the work that are of value for us all. In particular we should remember that God is utterly other, and resist the temptation to think that we know and understand God's ways. A God that can be pinned down and domesticated is a 'god', an idol. We are to be humble in approaching God, opening our hearts and minds to what he reveals in the Scriptures, through the Church, and in prayer. Humility is not only something which concerns the contemplative religious, but is essential for all who wish to grow in their spiritual and moral life. We are also to bear in mind that contemplation is only genuine if it transforms us, making us more aware of the awesome love of God, and empowering us to love others as we should. Leaving behind all images and ideas in contemplation is not a form of escapism, a way of denying the goodness of creation, but rather a way of searching for God that will transform the lives we lead as part of that created order.

An online text of The Cloud of Unknowing may be found here.

Spiritual notes from a small island..... Mother Julian of Norwich: Showings of God's Love

Very little is known about Mother Julian of Norwich (d.1442). Not even her name is left to us, and she is called after the church of St Julian in Norwich, where she lived as an 'anchoress' walled up in a small room attached to the church. She belongs to a great flowering of medieval English mysticism but unlike the Rhineland mystics, Julian and the other English mystics did not live in a religious community, and Julian lived a hermit's life (albeit with a cat).

From her little cell in Norwich, she journeyed into the heart of God, and over many years she received visions - "by bodily sight, and by word formed in my understanding, and by spiritual sight" - of God's passionate love for all humankind. And these 'Showings' were intended for a greater audience, and thus she wrote them down and preached from her anchorite's cell, and to many people, what she had contemplated of God's grace and love. The collection of her writings, 'The Sixteen Revelations of Divine Love' (c.1393), is thought to be the first book written by a woman in English, and has been likened to a traveller's first-hand description of what she had seen and experienced.

As with most Christian mystics down the ages, what they learn through contemplation is meant to be preached and given to others, so that all may benefit from their gift of spiritual insight. For such is the direction of Love: that it flows outwards and seeks the good of the other. So, Julian says at the end of her work: "Would you know Your Lord's meaning in this thing? Know it well. Love was His meaning. Who showed it to you? Love. Why did He show it to you? For Love."

Mother Julian is rightly popular today for her 'optimism', notably her teaching that we are loved into existence and held in being by God's love, and that at the end of all things, "all will be well" for "all that is done is well done, since our Lord God does all". This expression of God's wise providential care is coupled with her famous image of God's love. She saw that all creation is being held in God's hand, as small and insignificant as a hazelnut, and all this God held in being because of his eternal and unchanging love. Of course, her doctrine of being and providence is not by any means new; her revelations are an assimilation of the Scriptures and the wisdom of the Fathers and Catholic theologians. For example, St Thomas Aquinas certainly taught that God, who is Love, is the reason that creation exists - that there is something rather than nothing - and the continuation of created being is evidence of God's undying love which is holding all things, including us, in being. Julian, however, sees these metaphysical doctrines with child-like clarity and we can be grateful to her for popularising this Catholic doctrine of creation. Indeed, it is all too easy to forget that all of creation is good, and its very existence is a sign of God's on-going love and care; Julian reminds us of this. Similarly, she reminds us of the promise given in the Biblical book of Revelation that Christ has conquered all evil, so that at the end of time, all things will be made new in Christ and so indeed, all will be made good again. Thus, Julian emphasises the eternal embrace of divine love, in which we have been "loved and known in his endless purpose from without-beginning". Wrapped up in the clothing of God's love that "embraces us... so that he can never leave us", so Julian also emphasises the confidence that we ought to have in God's goodness, for in his providence and love "he has made all things profitable to us".

Nevertheless, Julian is also aware of sin and the need for conversion through love and humility. Like the best Catholic theologians, she says: "I saw truly that sin is no-deed" for there is no goodness in sin, and only the good has being, for it is held in being by God's love. Sin, then, is a falling short of good and sinfulness describes the lack of good in a deed; its no-deed, so to speak. Julian says that "because of our changeability we fall often into sin". Only God is constant and true; we, however, are "affected by the promptings of our enemy, and by our own folly and blindness". Hence Julian does not fear sin. Indeed she considers it to be an inevitable part of the human condition. However, what she does fear is the sort of dread that paralyses us from approaching God after we have sinned. How many still avoid receiving God's forgiveness in the sacrament of confession because of fear, or how many deny they have sinned because they fear admitting failure and imperfection?

For Julian, then, what is to be feared is the lack of contrition, and indeed, the fear that may arise from sin and lead to despair. St John tells us that perfect love casts out fear, and so Julian emphasises that we have to be founded in God's love and confident of his mercy so that when we sin, we should not run away "with this false dread of our wretchedness and the pain that [the Devil] threatens us with" but we should rather be "aware of our wretchedness, and flee to our Lord" and then, "meekly and patiently bear the penance that God gives us", suffering alongside our beloved Lord Jesus who endured the Passion for our salvation. So, she says, "the remedy is that our Lord is with us, keeping us, and leading us to fullness of joy". Again, she says, "He is the ground of all our life in love; and furthermore... he is our everlasting Keeper, and mightily defends us against those enemies of ours who fiercely attack us", and our need of Christ is greater, the more we fall into sin. The admission of our sinfulness and our need for a Saviour requires humility on our part, and it would actually be spiritual pride to deny this and avoid the embrace of the Divine Physician.

So much more can be gleaned from her writings, but we can see three elements played out in what has been mentioned thus far. At the beginning of the Revelations, Julian says that she asked for three wounds in her life: "the wound of true contrition, the wound of kind compassion, and the wound of earnest longing for God". The first wound is essentially about ourselves: it is the wound that we all bear as sinful creatures, and once we are at peace with our sinful condition, we can accept our need for Jesus Christ, our Saviour and "flee to him". The second wound concerns our relationship with other people, whom we should treat with kindness, and this is evident in Julian's writing, her gentleness, and the fact that she was a well-known spiritual counsellor in her time. The third wound concerns our relationship with God, and it is this that she says "dwelt [in her heart] continually". This desire for God, which is written into every human heart, and grows in love, the more we know and experience God's love, providence and mercy, is that which directs us to our final end in God and leads us home to him. And it is this divine love for God and from God that oversees the other two 'wounds'. Hence she says: "As his love for us is never broken for our sins, even so it is his will that our love should not be broken either for ourselves or for others. But he wills that we should hate the sin in itself, and endlessly love the soul of the sinner, as God loves it; then we would hate sin as God hates it." So, the soul which longs for God, longs for goodness and being, and so shuns sin which is no-deed, absence of good and of being.

With these wounds imprinted on the heart, Julian has given us the core of the Christian faith; the Christian's confidence in God and hope in salvation through a loving God who is the cause of our good and being. Thus, fr Jordan Aumann OP has said that Julian is of "considerable importance in the history of spirituality and precisely because she gives testimony to the workings and manifestation of grace in the mystical life." That mystical life is not restricted to the few but is promised to all of us who, like her, would have Jesus Christ as Friend.

An online text of The Revelations of Divine Love can be found here.

Spiritual notes from a small island..... St. Aelred of Rievaulx - 'Spiritual Friendship'

St. Aelred was born in Hexham in the North East of England in 1110. He came from a family whose members were noted for their learning, and had noble ties. Aelred was educated at the court of King David I of Scotland, and served as steward of the king’s table. During this time, he read Cicero’s On Friendship, which had a lasting influence. At the age of twenty four, he entered the Cistercian Abbey at Rievaulx, and was elected as its Abbot in 1147. His most notable works include The Mirror of Charity, Dialogue on the Soul, and The Pastoral Prayer. Not surprisingly, Aelred's outlook is a synthesis of his classical education and the Cistercian tradition. We find in his writings a strong influence of the thought of St. Bernard of Clairvaux, in particular, the emphasis on love. His theology was formed in the crucible of monastic life, and it is in living this life that he developed a sense of the importance of experience in developing theological ideas, and for progress in the spiritual life.

Monastic life has at its heart a tension, between the eremitical dimension and community life. Each monk is in some sense a loner, a solitary. But nevertheless, he lives in community, in relation to others. This reality has important lessons for all of us. We are all unique individuals, but we must also relate to others. So often, modern 'spirituality' emphasises the individual and his or her lone quest for God. But the search for God is one which requires relations with others. Aelred's Spiritual Friendship is about this very thing - the role of friendship in the search for God.

The dialogue structure of Spiritual Friendship immediately shows the importance of others in the spiritual life. Modeled on Cicero's De Amicitia, Aelred presents a dialogue between himself and other monks, whom he considers his friends. It starts as a dialogue between Aelred and Ivo, with a third, Christ, present with them. They aim to learn about friendship from a friend, and in the presence of Christ, who calls us friends. The dialogue shows a process of mutual discovery. The two friends identify that there are different levels of friendship. There are friendships based solely on sense pleasure, which is the lowest kind. There are also friendships based on temporal advantage and possessions. The highest level of friendship is based on Christ's New Commandment of love, a 'spiritual friendship' attained through conforming to Christ by wholesome interaction, without thought of gain. This kind of friendship is important because it is humanising, and raises the two friends to love of God through their love for each other

So we can see that in Aelred's thought, the moral life is central to the life with God and others. True friendship must involve a mutual striving for perfection, for harmony with each other and for union with God. The two friends selflessly support each other. This means that we must discern carefully who should be our friend. The growth in friendship is gradual, and we should be prudent in deciding who will be given access to our innermost thoughts. Vicious tendencies in either party will always be an obstacle to true friendship.

The five vices Aelred thinks are most destructive are slander, reproach, pride, betrayal of confidence and detraction. Unless both parties are perfect, these vices will inevitably show themselves. However, they can be overcome if there is repentance and a purpose of amendment. Those who are quick to anger, the fickle, and those who are overly suspicious of others will struggle to find true friendship unless they are able to amend their ways. True friends treat each other with a Christ-like gentleness and sympathy. They are constant in their love, frank, and congenial. When the friendship has these characteristics, it can be said to be a true friendship, a 'spiritual friendship', one which builds up both parties and helps them journey towards God.

Aelred's ideas are a challenge to many modern concepts of the spiritual life. If we are to grow towards being united with God, we must grow and develop in our relationships with others. It is not simply about 'me and God', to the exclusion of the other. The spiritual and the moral are intertwined, and we cannot have spiritual growth if we do not develop in the way that we relate to others. We need constantly to examine our relationships with others, and if necessary, be prepared to modify them so that they really are paths towards union with God.

Coming soon - Spritual Notes from a Small Island

Although these days there seems to be a decline in the number of people going to Church, there are many people who would claim to be 'spiritual'. There is a great thirst for the spiritual, but this so often takes the form of an interest in the New Age spiritualities, or in meditation practices influenced by the oriental religious traditions. People who are at least culturally Christian find in these spiritualities something exotic, exciting and new. Many people seem under the impression that Christianity has little to offer.

As Christians we would wish to challenge this notion. In our own Catholic tradition, there is a wealth of material on the spiritual life, and some of the spiritual writers are amongst the most revered saints of the Church. Over the centuries, Britain has been blessed by a wealth of writers who were concerned with the spiritual life. Yet how many of us can say that we know anything about this rich heritage? Recovering our Christian spiritual heritage in Britain is perhaps an important way of revitalising our faith, and of offering something inspiring to those who are seeking to experience the Divine in their own lives.

Over the coming months, we shall attempt to offer summaries of some of the most influential spiritual writings that have come from people in Britain over the centuries. We hope to show that their teachings have a perennial freshness and a relevance that make them enriching for us now in the twenty-first century.

Quodlibet 15 - Can the Church change its teaching?

A friend has asked me a number of times if Popes and Councils can contradict their predecessors, or even verses of Scripture. I have told him that they don't, but now he wants to know how they avoid doing that, and I would like to know as well!

The teaching of the Church as expressed by Popes and Councils is an unfolding of the Revelation of God: what God reveals about himself and his creation.The definitive revelation of God to the world is in his Word, Jesus Christ. He is the context for what the church calls the ‘sacred deposit of faith’ consisting of Scripture and Tradition. 'The deepest truth thus revealed both about God and about our salvation shines out for us in Christ, who is the mediator and at the same time the fullness of all revelation’

The Church, as the living community of the gospel, founded by Christ and animated by the Holy Spirit, presents this Revelation in every age in her teaching through the same Spirit. She is a witness to and custodian of Divine Revelation through the ages and not its originator. Thus, in matters pertaining to Divine Revelation there can be no contradiction of teaching by the Magisterium since its role is to declare and defend what has been revealed in Scripture and Tradition not to create.

Further, the teaching office of the Church is animated by the Holy Spirit who guides us into all truth (Jn 16.13). In this way too, declarations and defence of Divine Revelation are without error. However, this infallibility in teaching is with respect to the content of the divine and Catholic faith. Not everything that is taught by Popes and Councils is directly such content. Some teachings explain and defend the faith; others provide rules, customs and exhortations for the age. So, there are different levels of magisterial teaching. For example, the teaching of the Council of Nicaea in 325 on the consubstantiality of the Son and Father is part of the creed, revealed by God and so infallibly part of the faith, never to be contradicted. The teaching of Nicaea that, ‘there prevails a custom and ancient tradition to the effect that the bishop of Aelia is to be honoured’ or that ‘one should offer one’s prayers to the Lord standing’ is disciplinary and customary for the age and not being the direct content of revelation is subject to revision.

This Quodlibet was answered by Fr. Bruno Clifton O.P., formerly a member of the Godzdogz team who now works in the Student Chaplaincy at our Edinburgh Priory.

Quodlibet 12 - How much do Dominicans study?

People who know only a few things about the Dominicans are likely to know that the Order places greater importance on study than almost anything else, besides the vocation to preach. In the English Province, most students will study for a minimum of five years before ordination to the priesthood, and many will study for higher degrees after ordination, either immediately or following a few years of pastoral and preaching experience. However, for the Dominican, being engaged in theological study at some level is a life-long occupation, and does not merely end with formal studies during preparation for the priesthood. It is important that all Dominicans have a good knowledge of theology, because it is needed to preach the Gospel, to shape and influence our entire ministry. We might say that a certain intellectual curiosity is one of the signs of a Dominican vocation.

Despite our reputation for a love of learning, it is important to stress that not all Dominicans are academic high flyers: the call is, after all, to be preachers. Some may study and teach full time, others may spend much less time on the intellectual life. Our ongoing studies need not necessarily be high level academic research. But we need nevertheless to cultivate and use our intellectual gifts in whatever way we can to serve the mission in which we are engaged. This means that we also study a wide range of things, and try always to broaden our horizons. Being a good preacher means being able to speak to a wide range of people, people from different backgrounds, with their hopes and fears. Our study should have as its aim to improve our knowledge of the mysteries of salvation, but also, say, an awareness of the realities faced by the people to whom we preach. The skill is to unite the two aspects in such a way that the Gospel is being communicated to people in a way which they understand, and is true to their circumstances and experiences. So whether a brother is engaged in full time research and writing in Cambridge, teaches moral theology in the Studium here at Oxford, or is a hospital chaplain in Leicester, study of theology and its application to the work being carried out is essential, because it nourishes and sustains the individual, and gives shape, content and depth to his preaching and ministry.

The picture shows St Albert the Great, Doctor of the Church, patron saint of scientists, and teacher of St Thomas Aquinas. His feast is celebrated on 15th November. For an account of his life and work click here.

A-Z of Paul: Timothy and Titus

The Letters of Paul to both Timothy and Titus are know as the 'Pastoral Epistles'. If we read them carefully, we can notice several things about them. The first is that they are addressed to individuals who seem to have responsibility for local Churches. It seems likely that both Timothy and Titus are early bishops, episkopoi, who, if we take the literal meaning of the Greek word, 'oversaw' the affairs of the local Churches. We also notice that the tone and the content of the letters is quite different to, say the Letter to the Romans or the Corinthian Epistles. Many scholars are of the opinion that the different style of these letters is a sign that they are not in fact from Paul - the tone and language are, after all, very different. On the other hand, it can be argued that the letters addressed to both Timothy and Titus have a very different aim in mind. A leader such as Paul would, after all, write quite a different letter to other Church leaders than the kind that he might write for instructing and encouraging all the members of a Church in a particular place. The arguments for and against Pauline authorship will no doubt continue, and we must be careful not to be too drawn in, lest we lose sight of their value to all Christians.

The letters to Timothy and Titus are above all letters of support and encouragement. The First Letter to Timothy emphasises strongly the importance of prayer and of peace in the local Church. His instructions concerning those who are to be Bishops and Deacons show how clearly Paul thinks that holiness in Church leaders is fundamental in leading the faithful to Christ. Good leaders have a duty to ensure good teaching in the Church, and safeguard the wellbeing of the whole community, young and old (1 Tim 5:1-2). In the Second Letter to Timothy, it is clear that Paul believes his life to be coming to an end. This time, Paul encourages Timothy, and sets himself up as a model to be imitated, reminding him of the ways in which the Lord worked for him and through him throughout his life. 'Preach the word, be urgent in season and out of season, convince, rebuke, and exhort, be unfailing in patience and in teaching' (2 Tim 4:2). The letter to Titus, the shortest of the Pastoral Epistles, emphasises good teaching and good deeds.

So we can see how there are common threads running through all the Pastoral epistles. The Church needs leadership and authority to maintain its unity. But the effectiveness of that leadership will be compromised unless the lives of the leaders is upright and blameless. And this message goes out to all of us of course: if we are to show Christ effectively to the world, we must all be people of holiness, ready to do all we can to help and serve others. We must strive to be icons of Christ, for there is no more powerful way to draw people to faith than to make his face visible to the world in which we live.

August 9th - St Teresa Benedicta of the Cross (Edith Stein)

Saint Teresa Benedicta of the Cross was proclaimed a patron saint of Europe in 1999. Along with Catherine of Siena and Bridget of Sweden, she was chosen by Pope John Paul II "to emphasize the important role that women have had and have in the ecclesial and civil history of the continent down to our days." Each of these women was "connected in a special way with the Continent's history" and St Teresa in particular was described by John Paul II as "a symbol of the dramas in Europe in our time".

Born in 1891 to a Jewish family in Breslau, Edith Stein was a suffragette in university, a philosopher and teacher, and a nurse in the First World War. Although she had given up the practice of her Jewish religion at the age of 14, her study of phenomenology and her continual search for truth led to a realization that there is an objective reality that is the ground of all reality and makes all things knowable. So she came to recognize the reality of God. Based on her philosophical writings on 'The Problem of Empathy', John Paul II notes that Edith Stein saw that "this reality [of God] must be heeded and grasped above all in the human being, by virtue of that capacity for empathy, a word dear to her which enables one in some way to appropriate the lived experience of the other". Thus she began to read the experiences of God as related by Christians and especially the mystics. One evening Edith picked up the autobiography of St Teresa of Avila and read this book all night. She recounts: "When I had finished the book, I said to myself: this is the truth." Thus she came to faith in Christ and asked to be baptised in 1922.

St Teresa's search for truth and meaning, which led her through philosophy, to a discovery of the experience of God as expressed in the lives of great European Christians is instructive for us today, for European society seems to have forgotten its Christian heritage and seeks to divorce itself from the Christian experience of its past. In doing so, it can no longer empathise with its forebears and risks becoming uprooted, without an identity.

Conversely, Edith Stein not only empathised with the religious experience of great European saints but also remained rooted in her Jewish identity. She never saw her conversion to Christ as a rejection of her Jewish heritage and indeed she said that she "did not begin to feel Jewish again until I had returned to God". Although she went on to become a Carmelite nun, her Jewish roots never left her and indeed she suffered the Holocaust with her people. Her recorded last words, to her sister, when the Gestapo came to take them from her convent to Auschwitz on 2 August 1942 were: "come, we are going for our people" Already in 1933, when the Nazis took over Germany, Edith had written that "[Jesus'] Cross... was now being laid upon the Jewish people" and as a Catholic Jewess she felt that she was able to bring the suffering of the Jews to the Cross in a special way. She wrote: "I felt that those who understood the Cross of Christ should take it upon themselves on everybody's behalf".

St Teresa's understanding of the Cross was profound, and her last work, left unfinished by her arrest in 1942, was entitled "Kreuzeswissenschaft" (The Science of the Cross). Clinging to the Cross as our only hope, she knew that "those who are joined to Christ... will unflinchingly persevere even in the dark night of subjectively feeling remote from and abandoned by God... Getting to resurrection glory with the Son of Man, through suffering and death, is also the way for each one of us and for all mankind."

This eternal wisdom and gospel of hope is something that the Church proclaims and which Europe needs to hear. For without her ancient Faith, and feeling remote from God, Europe languishes in moral confusion and gropes for purpose and direction. It is not Brussels bureaucracy or European legislation that will save us but only, as Edith Stein learnt, a conversion to God who is the Way, the Truth and the Life.

Preaching through the Beauty of Music

On 28 June, Br Lawrence Lew OP was invited to speak to the Dominican Family on preaching through music. Below is an abridged version of his talk with pictures from the day, which took place at the Niland Conference Centre in Bushey near London:


In that gospel of Matthew which our holy father Dominic loved and carried with him, we read that after the Last Supper, Jesus and his apostles sang a hymn and then went to the Mount of Olives. In the Acts of the Apostles, we read that when Paul and Silas were imprisoned in Philippi, they prayed and sang hymns to God, and the prisoners listened to them. In Colossians 3:16, St Paul instructs the Christian community to “sing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs with thankfulness in your hearts to God”. Hence Joseph Ratzinger has said that: “Right from the beginning liturgy and music have been closely related [for] wherever people praise God, words alone do not suffice.” St Augustine said that “only he who loves can sing” and the Christian is one who loves the God who has first loved us. Therefore because music expresses our Christian joy in salvation and hope of eternal life, it is right that it plays such a central role in our lives and worship. Moreover, as Timothy Radcliffe OP has said, “Music overcomes the darkness and speaks a hope for what we cannot imagine”. Music is thus a powerful form of preaching.

In the Dominican tradition we have a story in which St Dominic’s successor, Blessed Jordan of Saxony, exhorts the novices to laugh and be merry because they have been “saved from the Devil’s thralldom”. Paul Murray OP comments that this story “serves to underline something really fundamental about the early Dominicans and their fresh grasp of the Gospel. Throughout the preaching ministry of Dominic, a vision of Gospel joy had come to define itself over and against some very grim and very gloomy notions indeed.” He goes on to say that “the deep, almost uncontrollable laughter which springs from Gospel joy… is, in fact, simply an ecstasy of the inner heart… an impulse of surrender and delight towards the neighbour and towards God.” For Dominic, his Gospel joy is expressed in his life through his impulse to preach. However, the stories about St Dominic recount that his joy was also frequently expressed in song, and it is reported that he sang as he traveled throughout Europe. Singing and preaching are closely related for both find their root in Gospel joy and this joy that bursts forth as laughter also bursts forth as wordless song.

Let us consider the words of St Augustine in this regard. He says: “‘Shout for joy… sing a new song’ (Ps 33:3). What would this song of joy mean? It means something that cannot be explained in words: it is what the heart is singing… those who start singing [ ] while they are eagerly carrying on some other work, start with the words of a song to express their joy, but then it is as though they are overcome with such happiness that words no longer can express it and they leave out the words and simply give themselves over to sounds of jubilation… [God who is ineffable] not only cannot be expressed in words but also cannot be passed over in silence, and so, what can one do but jubilate? For in jubilation the heart opens up to joy without words, and that joy widens out immeasurably beyond the utmost reaches of our words.”

St Paul sees this outpouring of love as something caused by the Holy Spirit, and so he writes to the Church at Ephesus, saying: “be filled with the Spirit, addressing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody to the Lord with all your heart”. I will return to St Augustine’s exhortation to wordless jubilation in due course, but for now, let us consider St Paul’s instruction. It is noteworthy that he says we should sing to one another, for there is a sense here of holy preaching in song. If we think about it, isn’t this precisely what we do when we sing the Divine Office antiphonally? For then we address one another in psalms, hymns and sacred songs, and so, we recall and preach the mirabilia Dei to one another. Seen in this way, the sung Liturgy is an important kind of holy preaching that we, gathered as the Body of Christ, can perform together. Truly then, singing the Office, is a kind of preaching that all of us – lay and ordained – can share in.

Timothy Radcliffe OP has said that “the singing of the liturgy… discloses the meaning of our lives”, and this is true because our song is an expression of the joy and hope that is the bedrock of our Christian lives. Music, which is marked by form, structure, rhythm and shape is a discipline, and so, Timothy also suggests that it points to the kind of life we are called to lead, that is, the virtuous life. Thus, “St Augustine thought that to live virtuously was to live musically, to be in harmony.” Music that is harmonious is beautiful, just as virtuous lives are beautiful, and such beauty gives praise to God who is beauty. In this regard, Timothy goes on to say that “if the Church is to offer hope to the young, then we need a vast revival of beauty in our churches” and we can begin with re-beautifying our Church music. I would agree with Timothy that “much modern music, even in Church, is so trivial that it is a parody of beauty” and he suggests that the Church is called to be “a place of the revelation of true beauty” for then, God is revealed, and God is preached through beauty. Joseph Ratzinger has said much the same. He says: “The Church is to transform, improve, ‘humanize’ the world – but how can she do this if at the same time she turns her back on beauty, which is so closely allied to love? For together, beauty and love form the true consolation in this world, bringing it as near as possible to the world of the resurrection. The Church must maintain high standards; she must be a place where beauty can be at home”. Therefore, it is clear that we need to re-discover beauty in the Church and particularly beauty in song.

Let us return to St Augustine. You may recall that he said that Christian joy spills over into an inexpressible song of joy. St Paul sees this song as being inspired by the Holy Spirit, and one can think of the great outpouring of the Spirit at Pentecost. Then, the Spirit inspired the apostles to speak in tongues and to babble with joy. The Spirit filled the disciples with such joy that they burst forth in song and so St Ephrem compared the disciples at Pentecost to small birds. This same Spirit fills the Church so that she bursts forth in song and we are singers of the Church’s song; we become little birds. Thus Simon Tugwell OP considers this kind of joyful singing as “words released in us by the Holy Spirit [which] are primordial words; words which spring from our creatureliness as deeply and simply and inexplicably as birdsong”.

What is this wordless song that the Spirit inspires and what might it sound like? We can clearly hear this characteristic in Gregorian chant, whereby words give way to pure music, called a melisma or jubilus. Daniel Saulnier OSB describes this as “a moment of pure music that blooms on a syllable” and he says that “this manner of singing and of pouring out one’s inner life by means of a vocalise that transcends the limits of syllables, and therefore, of thoughts, is probably as old as humanity.” Melisma is of such importance to plainsong because it is a jubilation, a sacramental sign of the inner joy that inspires all Christian song; it is an expression of sacred song inspired by the Holy Spirit.

As song that is inspired, it was also written down and preserved for the good of the Church, that it might be handed down and sung in every age. Thus, Pope Pius X said that “Gregorian chant [is] the only chant she [the Church] has inherited from the ancient fathers” and so, Vatican II says, it is “specially suited to the Roman liturgy”. If we recognize plainsong as inspired music that has been written and handed down, then we could perhaps see it as being analogous to the Scriptures. For just as the Spirit once inspired human beings to write down sacred texts and hand them down in the Church, so the Spirit also inspired human beings to write down sacred song and it forms a vital part of the Church’s tradition. Both the Scriptures and chant, then, are rightly used in our preaching. It is this marriage of the inspired word of God and inspired song, found in the Church’s treasury of sacred music, that has moved the Fathers of Vatican II to call it “a treasure of inestimable value, greater even than that of any other art.”

Just as plainsong and its melismas capture a moment of inspired song, so we might hear polyphony as an evocation of singing in tongues that thus captures the beauty and harmony of the Pentecost moment. In polyphony, each voice is unified by the text but each sings a different melody so that together they create something greater than the sum of its parts. This musical form has something to teach us because preaching the gospel, studying theology and the exercise of ministry in the Church, I would suggest, should also be polyphonic. In this way, we mirror St Paul’s idea that the Church is like a body made up of many parts who need one another and serve the growth and progress of the entire organism. This is also true when we act polyphonically, singing the same gospel song but with the harmonious contribution of our different voices.

C.S. Lewis said that in hell there is neither silence nor music. It is not accidental that he should link the two, because music, as we have seen, is the gift of the Spirit and it seems to me obvious then, that music is the fruit of silence. In the first book of Kings, we recall that God’s still small voice was heard in the silence. Therefore, silence is a necessary pre-condition of listening, of being inspired, or encountering the beauty of God and thus, of making music. There is a Dominican motto: silentium pater praedicatorum, silence is the father of preachers, and this motto draws on the same idea, for preaching and music both flow from silence, and this is to be expected, as both are inspired by the Spirit. Moreover, Josef Pieper points out that music, “to the extent that it is more than mere entertainment of intoxicating rhythmic noise”, creates a kind of “listening silence” and opens up a space in which we encounter beauty, and so can experience God. Gregorian chant and the Church’s sacred treasury of music is precisely this kind of music that flows from silence, encourages contemplation of the Word and opens up a space in which we can find God. Church music, then, is a kind of holy preaching because it encourages us to listen to the Word, and teaches us to seek God in silence and contemplation.

The appreciation of beauty born of contemplation is something that our noisy world has to re-learn and this education begins with us in the Church. Timothy Radcliffe suggests that we have lost sight of beauty because we “fall into the trap of seeing beauty in utilitarian terms, useful for entertaining people, instead of seeing that what is truly beautiful reveals the good.” I believe that Gregorian chant and polyphony challenges us to really listen, to transcend merely entertaining music, and to glimpse the mystery and beauty of God. Finally, Pope John Paul II leaves us with food for thought, something to inspire us to cultivate and to draw from the treasury of sacred music and hopefully, to pray and contemplate with music. He said: “As a manifestation of the human spirit, music performs a function which is noble, unique and irreplaceable. When it is truly beautiful and inspired, its speaks to us more than all the other arts of goodness, virtue, peace, of matters holy and divine.” And this, surely, is the hope and goal of the preacher?

The Dalai Lama at Blackfriars

Having already hosted Cardinal Walter Kasper this term, Blackfriars received another distinguished visitor in the person of the Dalai Lama who came to take part in a colloquium on 'Christian and Buddhist Contemplative Prayer'.

The proceedings were opened by Fr Paul Murray, an Irish Dominican who lectures at the Angelicum in Rome. He spoke about contemplative prayer in the Dominican tradition, drawing in particular on the writings of three of the Order's great spiritual teachers, John Tauler, Catherine of Siena and Meister Eckhart. The difficulties of the 14th century, in which these three lived, reflect our own difficulties in many ways, he said, and their experience of and teaching about contemplative prayer can lead us also to compassion and service.

Fr Eugene McCaffrey, an Irish Carmelite from Tabor Retreat House in Preston, spoke about contemplative prayer in the Carmelite tradition. He spoke particularly about St John of the Cross, and of the 'dark nights' that accompany the experience of prayer, times when the one who prays feels that they have lost everything, including, and especially, God. These experiences enabled John of the Cross to write the most beautiful of all spiritual poetry in which the soul's loss is made good beyond her expectations in her union with, and even transformation into, the beloved (amada en el amado trasformada): then everything becomes hers, even God.




The Dalai Lama spoke about his involvement in conversations with Christians, in the first place with Thomas Merton who spent three days with him at Dharamsala. He remembers the great boots Merton was wearing and also their discussion about the Buddhist belief in endless life compared with the Christian belief in one life alone. 'Only this life, created by God', His Holiness quoted Merton as saying, and repeated it ... 'only this life, created by God'. Which implies, he continued, an extraordinary intimacy between God and the one who is thus created. It seems as if Merton thus succeeded in communicating one of the central teachings of Christianity to the Dalai Lama and that he has pondered it ever since.

In speaking about Buddhist contemplation His Holiness said that he could agree with all that had been said by the Christian speakers if the term 'God' were substituted  with the phrase 'ultimate reality'. Buddhism also recognises three stages in seeking understanding and wisdom, the stage of knowledge when one learns about things from teachers, the stage of critical enquiry when one engages in study and reflection, and the stage of meditation or contemplation when one seeks to understand reality and illusion. In both Buddhism and Christianity there is the emphasis on compassion and on the fact that contemplative prayer must issue in service of others and a concern for peace.





There was then some discussion about various aspects of Buddhism and links with Christian traditions of prayer. The most fascinating question was whether the reality that is sought in prayer, whether it is called 'ultimate reality' or 'God', is a reality that seeks us.





It was a wonderful moment for Blackfriars. The Dalai Lama had joined the community for midday prayer before the colloquium: his prayerful reverence towards the altar, the tabernacle, and the brethren, was very deeply moving. He spoke as powerfully in the way he was present with us and to us as he did by his words.

Quodlibets - ask us more questions!

Our regular readers will know that we sometimes have posts labeled 'quodlibet'

The quodlibet, roughly meaning whatever it pleases, was a form of teaching employed in the medieval university at which questions on any topic which pleased the audience were put to a teacher. These questions and answers were sometimes written up and published, most famously in the Quaestiones de quodlibet of Thomas Aquinas.

Once again we invite you therefore to propose questions which you feel we might be able to answer - whatever it pleases you to ask. Are there any aspects of Catholic teaching or practice that puzzle you? Do you wish to know more about how our faith helps us face the challenges of modern society? Are there any aspects of the Dominican life that you don't understand? We will attempt to answer your questions and to stimulate further debate.

Please email your questions to godzdogz@gmail.com.

The Sanctity of Human Life

On 4 May, Br Lawrence Lew OP was invited to talk with the Lay Dominican Fraternity of Bl. Adrian Fortescue about the Sanctity of Human Life. Below is an edited version of his talk:

 

In the Creed, we profess that the Holy Spirit is “the Giver of Life”; the one who vivifies. I shall use this appellation as a starting point for our reflection. In Genesis 2:7, we find this beautiful description of the vivifying spirit – or the breath – of God: “the LORD God formed man of dust from the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living being”. In this regard we can see the verses of psalm 104 as a commentary: “When you take away their breath, they die and return to their dust. When you send forth your Breath, they are created; and you renew the face of the ground”. Hence the word revealed to both Jews and Christians is that God bestows life on human beings and he does so by breathing his divine Spirit into us. Thus the Catechism teaches that “The Word of God and His Breath are at the origin of the being and life of every creature.” In this sense, then, all creation owes its being to God, and so, is sacred, and this reverence for created matter is something that distinguished Jewish thought from the more dualistic tendencies of other ancient cultures. It is on account of such a revelation that our ancestors in Faith held such unique views on the goodness of all creation.

 However, although all creation is good, there is something specifically special and holy about human life that distinguishes us from the rest of creation. As such, to be ‘pro-life’ concerning the human person is not to be equated with being ‘pro-life’ concerning foxes or other sentient creatures. While it is a laudable thing to care for the welfare of animals, the fact that we do care, debate, reflect and argue is a manifestation of uniquely human activities, and this care and concern is arguably a living out of the stewardship over creation given to us by God. So, it seems apparent to me that there is something different about us humans and Aristotle famously calls humankind the rational animal. 

Christian anthropology believes that this difference is due to the fact that we are inspired; God’s Spirit animates us, we bear God’s image, and it is in Him that we live and move and have our being. Not only are we made by God's creating Spirit, like the rest of the created order, but we have been made in His Image. Therefore, St Thomas Aquinas would understand the image of God within us as the gift of a rational intellect that makes us desire to know God, and capable of loving him.
 
However, as we know, this potential is thwarted by sin, and so we often fall short of the mark, of God, who is our true aim. St Basil says that “he who no longer lives according to the flesh but is led by the Spirit of God and is called son of God, made in the image of the Son of God, is [properly] called spiritual.” Therefore, the Holy Spirit is not just the breath of life within us, but he is God who vivifies us, the living water that wells up within us, and so leads us from the living death of sin into the fullness of life that Jesus says he has come to give us. The Spirit of God wells up to eternal life when we grow in love for God and we recognize Him to be the consummation of all our human desires. It is on account of this friendship with God, which is the unique goal of truly human fulfillment and flourishing, that we believe that human beings are unique in the order of creation. It is on account of the intrinsic value of this human destiny that we say that human life has dignity and worth. It is on account of the indwelling of God’s Spirit in each and every human person that we say that all human life – from conception to natural death – is sacred. Thus in Genesis 4:10, we see that when human blood is shed, it cries out to God from the ground, the ground from which we are all created.

 Moreover, as Joseph Ratzinger put it: “In the human being God enters into his creation; the human being is directly related to God. The human being is called by him… Each human being is known by God and loved by him. Each is willed by God, and each is God’s image… Hence the Bible says that whoever violates a human being violates God’s property (cf Gen 9:5). Human life stands under God’s special protection, because each human being, however wretched or exalted he or she may be, however sick or suffering, however good-for-nothing or important, whether born or unborn, whether incurably ill or radiant with health – each one bears God’s breath in himself or herself, each one is God’s image. This is the deepest reason for the inviolability of human dignity, and upon it is founded ultimately every civilization. When the human person is no longer seen as standing under God’s protection and bearing God’s breath, then the human being begins to be viewed in utilitarian fashion… and [society] tramples upon human dignity.” Notice the scope of human dignity and the sanctity of human life: there is no doubt that this great vision of humanity offers a challenge to all of us.
 
Often issues of life are confined to questions considered 'controversial', particularly those questions concerning the transmission of new life, or the abortion of the unborn child, or so-called euthanasia. All these questions are certainly important, emotive and relevant issues, and it is not surprising that they should solicit such strong passions, for they touch us intimately. However, our belief in the sanctity of human life also means that we share an equal dignity regardless of wealth, intellectual ability or social standing, etc. Our belief in the sanctity of human life means that human beings are not viable matter for scientific experimentation; that even the most sin-wounded criminal is loved and willed by God; that where a brother or sister is struggling to live – and this can be socio-economic, psychological or physical – we are called to notice and to help. Where the blood of a human being is spilt, we are to cry out from the ground. It also means building a ‘culture of life’ based on deep respect for the human person. As Cardinal Christoph Schönborn OP has noted, “Even today’s widespread cult of the body supports in principle a culture that is hostile to life. If only the strong, healthy, sexually attractive body has any worth, then consciously or unconsciously this promotes an attitude of ‘selectivity’ that leaves no room for the weak and the sick, the handicapped and the dependent. A comprehensive defense of life is animated by an awareness that every human life without exception is precious in God’s eyes and is included under his protection.” Clearly, then, the ambit of pro-life issues which ought to concern a Christian is very broad. I can only touch on some of these issues and do not wish to dwell on any in depth. Rather, by reminding us of the reasons we Christians consider life to be sacred at every stage, I hope to offer a basis on which we may prayerfully reflect on the questions that arise with regards to ‘life issues’. 

I believe that in these areas concerning the sanctity of human life, the position we are called to adopt is no less counter-cultural than it was when the Jews, moved by revelation, affirmed the fundamental goodness of the created order. Christians, also moved by revelation and by the teaching of the whole Christ – by which I mean the Church in union with Jesus Christ, her Head – are called to show to the world a position which is challenging and different precisely because it is based on a radical Christian anthropology, the likes of which the world has never seen. For which other faith teaches that God dwells in us, feeds us with His own Body and Blood, enlivens us with his own Spirit, and divinizes us so that we will share in the very life of the Triune God, and so become gods? If one’s hope is not fixed on these promises of Christ, which came to be because of the Passion, Death, Resurrection and Ascension of Jesus, then one will indeed have a vision of life that is somewhat morose, functionalistic and ultimately, unappealing. Is it any wonder that those societies who have lost the lofty Christian vision of the dignity of the human person have become so bored of life that new distractions and entertainment are constantly being demanded? Or that life has been devalued, and so, become meaningless and expendable? 
 
Historically, I am reminded of the early Christians who lived out their faith in the Roman Empire, a world which is in some respects not too different from ours. According to Paul Veyne’s ‘History of Private Life’, the Romans habitually exposed or drowned malformed infants, some abandoned their children because they were poor or wished to bequeath a decent fortune to their surviving heirs and the middle class “preferred to concentrate their efforts and resources on a small number of offspring, for reasons of family ambition”. Moreover, “all classes of the population certainly made use of contraception” and “even the most stringent moralists… never dreamed of according to the foetus a right to live.” Consider too, the fact that condemned criminals were often given over to gladiatorial sport or crucifixion, and we have a picture of a society in which life was expendable. It is in this context of a 'culture of death' that, inspired by their faith, the early Christians derived a counter-cultural ethics of human life. As Robin Lane Fox notes, “Most of the early Christian texts attack abortion simply as ‘murder of the creation of God’” such as is found in the 2nd-century Didache, and contraception was associated with “the beastly habits of the Gnostics” and roundly condemned by St Augustine. Therefore, from the beginnings of the Church, Christians were engaged in life issues, and offering a counter-cultural witness. This witness, as part of our preaching of the gospel, is what we Dominicans have to offer to the world. As Timothy Radcliffe OP has said: “If the Church simply accepts modern sexual mores, then the dangers are just as serious. We would appear to be assimilating ourselves weakly to the modern world, lacking the guts to stand for what we believe. If the Church’s teaching is true, then surely we must proclaim it.”

 The proclamation of this Gospel, which is by no means easy, is one that is vivified by the Holy Spirit. It is the Spirit who will lead us into all truth and the Spirit who can illumine our minds and help us to understand and live the teachings of Christ. It is the Spirit who will convince us of the truth, and this can be a rather gradual and slow process. It is also a process which one must desire, and this is helpful to recall whenever we are preaching the Gospel. As Origen said, “Christ does not win victory over anyone who does not wish it. He conquers only by convincing, for he is the Word of God.” So, we are not converted to the truth by force, or by the might of authority, or threats and fear but by God’s patient and loving Word. In this regard, I am reminded of our holy father Dominic who spent the whole night patiently convincing the Albigensian inn-keeper of his errors, and with the grace of the Spirit, drawing him towards the light of truth. It is this model we must keep before us as we preach the truth.

I am sure that if we contemplate the Word and ask the Spirit of God to lead us into all truth, then we shall be able to hand on the fruit of our contemplation to a world which needs it so much. The gift we Christians can offer to the world, to our contemporaries, is the very real and lived experience of our faith and hope in Jesus Christ, the Lord of Life whose Spirit gives us abundant life. Permit me to end with a final quotation from Ratzinger. He says: “The ethical recognition of the sacred character of life and the commitment to ensure the respect for life require a context and a perspective, and these are supplied by faith in creation… Christianity is the remembrance of the look of love that the Lord directs to mankind, this look that preserves the fullness of his truth and the ultimate guarantee of his dignity. The mystery of Christmas reminds us that in the Christ who is born, every human life – from the very beginning – is definitively blessed and welcomed by the look of God’s mercy. Christians know this and stand with their own life under this look of love; with this look they receive a message that is essential for man’s life and for his future. This means that they can humbly and proudly accept today the task of proclaiming the good news of the faith… In this task of announcing the dignity of man and the duties of respecting life that flow from this dignity, they know they will probably meet with derision and hatred. But the world cannot live without them.”