The Eucharist and Social Justice

I think many Catholics like to put themselves in one of two camps. There are those who are "conservative," who love the Church and the Holy Father, the wisdom and truth of dogma, and the lives of the saints. They defend the tradition and argue for little -- if any -- change. Others call themselves "progressive" or "liberal." More often than not, they care little for the hierarchy or even sacramental life and champion causes of equality, solidarity, and social justice, citing Jesus' public ministry as the model par excellence.

I loathe these distinctions and don't understand how or why we buy into them. They are certainly the product of our own devices (if not vices). The way to be Catholic is to follow Jesus. Or as one friend back in Wisconsin once told me: "Keep your eyes on Jesus and don't take any bullsh*t from the rest of them." Following Jesus is no easy task, but we, the pilgrim Church, can try our best together.

First and foremost, this involves honoring the words and ways of Jesus. But it also involves embracing the Sacraments and the grace afforded us through these communal rituals and customs. For example, I know of many people working on the front lines in terms of human rights, justice, and peace who have little desire for the Eucharist. My heart aches for them -- on many levels. And by and large, because they are not only missing out on what the Eucharist is all about, but because they are stepping away from God's gift of God's self, offered to us each and every day in the Blessed Sacrament. And what is more, this Communion actually offers us the plan for the communion we all desire.

This is a long post. But allow me to explain:

In January 2004, I spent a few weeks with the Sisters of Charity in Kingston, Jamaica. To be sure, my time spent visiting with lepers, cutting the fingernails of blind men and shaving invalids was an unforgettable experience. But what impacted me – perhaps even more than their kind and compassionate service – was the dedication of the women who cared for these men day after day to prayer and the liturgy. After working all morning, these sisters retired to the upper level of the complex where they prayed, sang, and distributed communion. I was flabbergasted on many levels: where did this joy come from? how could they spend all afternoon in prayer? didn’t they realize how much more work needed to be done?

Earlier this month I found myself asking similar questions during a visit to an orphanage in Guatemala. Despite living in meager, even destitute conditions, when the village gathered together on Sunday morning at the local church for Mass, they wore immaculately clean clothes, arrived early, packed the church, and actively, audibly participated throughout the liturgy in prayer and song. It was almost eerie how these orphans and impoverished families celebrated the Eucharist: smiling, singing, and sharing the sign of peace with such gusto. I couldn’t help but wonder: why were they so happy? what drew them to celebrate Eucharist? didn’t they realize how much more work needed to be done?

On both counts – what attracts those who dedicate their lives to social justice to the Eucharist and what why those who face such severe social injustice are drawn to the Eucharist – I was baffled. Especially since so many Catholics in America complain that they just don’t get anything out of going to Mass on Sunday. I won’t venture a guess as to what motivated these people to attend and celebrate the Eucharist with such zealous commitment, but it is worth noting what John A. Coleman calls the “necessary ‘mystical marriage’ between the Eucharist and social justice” has been articulated and affirmed throughout the history of the Church, and this speaks volumes about what we should “get out of” going to Mass.

The connection between the Eucharist and social justice is not the result of a modern hermeneutic. After all, the very institution of the Lord’s Supper was a festive meal at Passover to honor Yahweh’s deliverance of Israel from slavery in Egypt. And while John substitutes the foot washing scene for this narrative in his gospel, Jesus’ humility and service to his disciples reinforces not only the kenosis of the Lord’s Supper, but also the inviting and inclusive table fellowship which marked Christ’s public ministry. This tradition was highlighted in the earliest writings of the Church; that the Eucharist is an act of solidarity and inspiration for work to promote justice and peace was the very concern of the Apostle Paul in his letter to the Corinthian community (1 Cor. 10-11) and a point of emphasis in the homilies and catechesis notably imparted by St. John Chrysostom and St. Augustine.

And although the “mystical marriage” between the Eucharist and social justice has been reinforced throughout the centuries in the writings of many important theologians and saints, and reiterated in the modern era thanks to the likes of Dorothy Day and Mother Teresa, it seems that this essential link between what we celebrate and share in the liturgy and how we live and act in the world is not so obvious for many Catholics today. However, this lack of awareness among the laity is not for want of Church teaching, especially since the Second Vatican Council.

The theological renewal and ecclesial reform of Vatican II did more than reassert the Eucharist as the “source and summit” of our Christian lives and the “sum and summary of our faith.” Among many other documents, the council produced the Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy (Sacrosanctum Concilium), which described the liturgy as “the summit toward which the activity of the Church is directed; at the same time it is the font from which all her power flows. For the aim and object of apostolic works is that all who are made sons of God by faith and baptism should come together to praise God in the midst of His Church, to take part in the sacrifice, and to eat the Lord's supper.” This suggests that as the source and summit of the Church’s mission and identity, the Eucharist calls people to gather, praise, share in the sacrifice, and partake in the Lord’s Supper. As we will see in the pages that follow, this gathering, praising, and receiving and sharing not only speaks to issues of solidarity, justice, and peace – but it is incomplete unless and until such ritualized claims are turned outward into the world.

To be sure, however, the Eucharist is not merely an exercise in solidarity or social justice. Although Jesus demonstrated great concern for the poor, vulnerable, oppressed, and marginalized, the Church is not a mere charitable agency or social service. Instead, the Church is a witness of Christ at work in the world, and the Eucharist is what feeds and enlightens this mission. In other words, as John Paul II wrote in Ecclesia de Eucharistia, the “Eucharist, as Christ's saving presence in the community of the faithful and its spiritual food, is the most precious possession which the Church can have in her journey through history.” So although there is a deep connection between the Eucharist and social justice, this is by no means the defining characteristic of, or motivation for celebrating the liturgy.

Instead, we recognize the polyvalent nature of the Eucharist and how each part of the ritual relates to its primary purpose: to worship and give praise to the Father. The Liturgy of the Word provides a memorial (anamnesis) to recall all that God has done for us. This is followed by a petition (epiclesis), to not only call down the Holy Spirit among the assembly, but also upon the gifts the congregation presents. Then this communion is enacted as all share the bread and wine, the body and blood of Jesus Christ. The celebration of the Eucharist both concludes and continues with the urging to “go in peace to love and serve the world.”

The Bread of Life Discourses in John 6 introduces this consumption of communion as the key to eternal life. On the night he was betrayed, as Jesus shared the bread and wine with his disciples, he explained that through his body and blood, he offers himself as a sacrifice for the forgiveness of sins and the initiation of a new covenant. This new covenant is not only open to the Jews, but to all people -- in much the same way, ALL people are deserving of the dignity and sanctity given to them by God. As Christ offered himself, we are invited to offer ourselves in return-gift, in synergy with his self offering. In the words of the 1982 World Council of Churches Baptism, Eucharist, and Ministry document, “as a living and holy sacrifice in our daily lives; this spiritual worship, acceptable to God, is nourished in the eucharist, in which we are sanctified and reconciled in love, in order to be servants of reconciliation in the world." In this way, Christ’s sacrificial self gift is not only a gift we receive, but also an invitation to offer our own self-gift in return. This is precisely how we live up to the challenge from Augustine to “become what [we] receive” in this sacrament and how this ought to connect with how we live and act in the world.

Or as moral theologian William Spohn writes, “[e]very dimension of Christian moral formation flows out from community worship and congregating around the Lord’s table.” This means that we learn about solidarity, justice, peace, and reconciliation through our anamnesis, epiclesis, and sharing of the Lord’s Supper. As Pope John Paul II explained in his 2004 apostolic letter in preparation for the Year of the Eucharist, the “Christian who takes part in the Eucharist learns to become a promoter of communion, peace and solidarity in every situation ... Christians learn to experience the Eucharist as a great school of peace, forming men and women who, at various levels of responsibility in social, cultural and political life, can become promoters of dialogue and communion.” Mane Nobiscum Domine continues, the “Eucharist not only provides the interior strength needed for this mission, but is also – in some sense – its plan. For the Eucharist is a mode of being, which passes from Jesus into each Christian, through whose testimony it is meant to spread throughout society and culture." The way we gather, praise, are forgiven and forgive, receive and share as a church is the very model for the communion we ought to enact in the world.

This reality manifests a painful both/and. On one hand, sharing one bread and one cup engages us in a ritual of sharing and of unity with Christ and one another. Therefore, Communion is the ultimate experience of communion. And yet, at the same time, as David N. Power has written, the "bread of joy is also the bread of affliction: it evokes many aspects of human life, the most basic needs of body and spirit, the need to share with others, the toil and the joy, the hunger for justice, the vulnerability of life on earth. So too it is for the church, God’s people in Christ.” This resigns us to the “already and not yet” state, in which we celebrate the new covenant instituted by Christ and relish in not only His Real Presence among us, but the divinizing grace which we receive and share in the Eucharist. At the same time, we realize that this deification is not a panacea; there is still much work to be done and we wait, in eschatological hope, for Christ to accomplish what we cannot.

So as I wonder what draws the Sisters of Charity in Jamaica and the people of Santa Apolonia in Guatemala to the liturgy – and why, in the face of such malnutrition and hunger, poverty, homelessness, illness, and illiteracy – they even bother with the vestments, the music, the readings, the homily, the Eucharist, I now realize it is because they are convinced that this experience provides them all they truly need as the “source and summit” of our lives and the “sum and summary” of our faith. After all, there is no better way to gather together to praise and adore the God who has, and who will continue to provide for us, remember (anamnesis) what God has done for us, to plead for what we and the world needs (epiclesis), and receive and share the Bread of Life.

We work in a spirit of solidarity and justice not because the Church is social service or agency, but because we work in synergy with the Spirit of God who is just, who loves, who forgives, and who continues to give the gift of God’s self to us. We recognize themes of tolerance, mercy, compassion, and inclusion in Jesus’ ministry and respond to the call to “love one another as I have loved you” (John 15:12) because we understand how this manifests the everlasting truth of the new covenant which has been instituted by the Son. And although our efforts at solidarity and justice will fall short, we live in the eschatological hope that “all [will be] one in Christ Jesus" (Galatians 3:28).

Although the Church teaches that the “Eucharist commits us to the poor” (CCC #1397) and the “mystical marriage” of the Eucharist and social justice has been the focus of so many theologians and saints, perhaps we need to look no further than the people who work for social justice and who face even the gravest injustices. For them, these notions of worship, memorial, petition, atonement, communion, and synergy are perhaps the only reason for hope and joy in otherwise dim and desperate circumstances. Their love for the Eucharist – and how it inspires them to live so simply, generously, and faithfully – is just the reminder we need that the Sunday obligation isn’t just about what we get out of going to Mass, but how we become what we receive.

Corpus Christi

Corpus Christi is Latin for "the Body of Christ" and today, we celebrate this feast. Today, all three readings tie together themes of God's providence and self-gift, whether manna in the desert during the exodus, the beautiful "Bread of Life" discourses in John 6, or the first celebrations of the Eucharist in the early Church which Paul writes about in 1 Corinthians 10 and 11.

Through previous posts, I have already written extensively on the Eucharist. After all, it is the "source and summit" of the Christian life. It is Christ's self-gift to us, which invites us to respond through our own self-gift. Taking part in this C/communion is not only the most important thing we do all week; it is the most important thing we do throughout our entire lives. Surely, there can be nothing greater that receiving the real essence (grace) of our Lord, being transformed and even divinized through this communion with Him, and then going out, together, to "love and serve the world."

But I think it is also worth noting that "the Body of Christ" is also the term we use for the Church. We, as Christians, re-member and re-present Christ's presence to all the world. This brings certain roles and responsibilities, especially in terms of justice, peace, reconciliation, and above all, love.

This was absolutely critical for the Apostle Paul. The more you read the Pauline Epistles, the more you will pick up on his efforts to spread tolerance for the good of the whole, meaning tolerance as a path towards unity amid the Body of Christ [cf. Ephesians 4:1-6].

This doesn't mean unity will be easy or that we seek unity at all costs. As with everything, there is a balance between being tolerant and yet still being able to stand for what is true, right, and good.

For example, although the "Bread of Life" discourse in John 6 is home to some of the most touching and meaningful imagery in all of Scripture, it is immediately followed by the point that after Jesus revealed Himself as the Bread of Life, "many of his disciples returned to their former way of life and no longer accompanied him" [John 6:66]. Sometimes the Good News isn't easy to bear. Even for the sake of unity, we cannot water down the message.

Although EVERY Sunday is a celebration of Corpus Christi, today we pay particular attention to, and give thanks for God's gift-giving in the Eucharist. We give thanks (which is what "eucharistia" means) for all God has given us, we remember what Christ has done for us, and we call down the Holy Spirit so that, in eating and drinking the bread and wine (the body and blood), we are received into communion with the Body of Christ [1 Cor. 10:16-17], we are granted atonement for sins [Mt. 26:28], salvation, and the promise of eternal life [John 6:51-58].

And we pray, that in and through this C/communion, all may be ONE in the Body of Christ.

Trinity Sunday

I've never heard or offered a clear, simple, and articulate explanation of the Trinity, so I certainly won't try here. But I have to say, although 2 Corinthians is widely considered one of the most confusing and difficult to interpret books of all the 72 in the Bible, Paul's affirmation of the Trinity -- just a decade or two after Jesus' death, is quite remarkable.

Our second reading today is 2 Cor. 13:11-13: and the fact that Paul writes,
"The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with all of you" sheds light on the fact that the notion of the Trinity is not simply one cooked up by theologians or bishops, but a conviction which came out of an experience of God -- even one rooted in a radically monotheistic, Jewish context.

So rather than diving into the explanation of how God created the world, sent His Only Begotten Son, who in turn, promised us the Advocate to be with us always and who acts in the world today ... I'm going to focus on this UNITY that Paul writes about in his reference to the Trinity.

Paul, a radical monotheist, recognizes the way in which the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit gives rise to the concept of a "tri-une" God: three different manifestations of ONE God, acting together, in unity and synergy.

Paul does not leave this unity alone, but rather uses it as the model for our Christian discipleship and how we make up the Church. Again and again in the Pauline letters, we read the Apostle's exhortations for various communities in many parts of the Mediterranean to embrace and reinforce this same unity amongst themselves. For example, Paul is greatly troubled with the celebrations of the Eucharist in 1 Cor. 11, where divisions and factions arise as the wealthy gather to eat and worship inside the house (the Church was so small and new its first liturgies ocurred in people's homes) while the poorer members were left to gather in the garden outside. Paul is so bold to declare that, since, "one goes hungry and another becomes drunk," that "it is not really the Lord's supper" which they celebrate [1 Cor. 11:20-21].

This same concern for unity is in fact how he opens the passage which serves as our second reading today:
"Brothers and sisters, rejoice. Mend your ways, encourage one another, agree with one another, live in peace, and the God of love and peace will be with you."

I would argue that this emphansis on unity comes to its climax in Galatians [3:28]:

"There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female, for all of you are one in Christ Jesus."

This echoes the very unity Jesus Himself preached, saying,

"I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one, so that the world may know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me."
[John 17:23]

As we celebrate the tri-une Godhead today, let us also remember that the unity we find in the Trinity is a unity we need to seek in our Church. We desire peace, shalom, right-relationship: with God, with one another, with ourselves. This is how we become not only ONE as the Church, the Body of Christ, but ONE in and through God.

We've come so far. We've got so far to go.

Happy Birthday, Church!

Today is the Feast of Pentecost. 50 days after Easter, the disciples are STILL hiding in the upper room, afraid for their lives, totally lost, and with no idea what to do next.

Lots to think about ... lots to worry about ... nothing doing.

Sound familiar?

How often do we sit, worry, and fear what could happen, and wonder what we should do?
It's analysis paralysis.

Pentecost is not only the birth of our Church, but it is the lasting cure against analysis paralysis.
Pentecost is the catalyst and reminder that having faith means being a person of not just beliefs, but actions. Pentecost reminds us that love is a verb, which means we have work to do!

And this work is in and through our Lord Jesus Christ. Although he said, so many times, "Do not be afraid!" Jesus does not give up on these nervous, shy, scared disciples. And Jesus certainly does not give up on us.

Instead, Jesus comes to us (even through locked doors and other obstacles we might put in His way) and calmly calls us to our proper roles and responsibilities:

“Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.”
And when he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them,“Receive the Holy Spirit."

We are sent out into the world to be doers, and what is more, lovers.

---

Anne and I were in Guatemala this year for Pentecost. And I have to say, there was something special about sitting in the church, surrounded by these small, happy, and beautiful friends of ours from the orphanage (literally surrounded: Anne had Angelica on her lap and I tried to keep Jimmy from sprawling much past mine). The School Sisters of St. Francis (who run the orphanage in Santa Apolonia) have spent their whole lives being, praying, and doing love. And these children -- and many more before and after them -- have been changed forever because of their simple yet daily acts of love.

This made me think: there are still a lot of children out there who are hurting, alone, abandoned and afraid. But these 80 children have been spared that fate because these sisters have said "yes" to working in synergy with the Holy Spirit.

Maybe we can't change the world. We certainly can't change it alone.
But, that doesn't mean we can sit here and twiddle our thumbs. We can't be paralyzed by all the reasons why not to love. Then nothing will ever change and there will be even more to worry about, fear, and lament.

So today, as we fittingly celebrate Mother's Day, I ask you to think about who loves you and how you have been loved. And then think about how and who you love.

And let your eyes be opened to the difference that love makes, day by day.
And then consider how you can stretch, share, and even squander that love so that even one more person can experience it.

Even if you reach out to just one person, it's still one more. One life changed forever.
As we commit to this, the Holy Spirit will multiply the fruit of our work ten, twenty, even one hundred-fold.

After all, this whole thing started with twelve men in a locked room.
We've come so far.
We've got so far to go.

Sitting there won't accomplish much.
“Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.”

We are sent out into the world, not just to be, but to DO.

A Response: You of Little Faith

Katie,
Thanks for your question.
This clip [http://www.godtube.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ae45f51892676638d874] raises some interesting points and I hope you will find my response helpful:

First of all, I don't believe that Cameron Beuttel gives Rob Bell the benefit of the doubt in this clip. I am familiar with Rob Bell's Nooma videos and I don't think Mr. Bell is claiming that the walking on the water story is ABOUT Peter's lack of faith in himself. Instead, I think Mr. Bell is trying to present a new twist on a story we already know well.

Mr. Beuttel makes many solid points. Of course we NEED to have faith in Christ. Faith in Christ is what saves us, it's what changes everything, as Paul writes many times over. This message comes out loud and clear in Galatians 2:15-21, perhaps the thesis for Paul's entire ministry: "... we have come to believe in Christ Jesus, so that we might be justified by faith in Christ, and not by doing works of the law, because no one will be justified by works of the law ..."

But Mr. Beuttel twists a point Rob Bell raises and extrapolates that Mr. Bell is trying to tell the viewers of the "Dust" video to believe in themselves over believing in Christ. That's not a fair accusation; those who are familiar with Mr. Bell's videos know he places faith in Christ as completely paramount to Christian discipleship.

What is more, Mr. Beuttel argues against the notion that God believes in us. This is ridiculous.

Mr. Beuttel uses this Rob Bell Nooma video to assert this is "humanism disguised as Christianity." Humanism in its most secular form places man (or oneself) above all else in creation -- even above any notion of a Creator. But Rob Bell is not a secular humanist. He is a religious humanist. And all of us should be Christian humanists. Our love for one another is the very reason why we promote and protect the dignity and sanctity of every human life, from the unborn and the poor, vulnerable, and marginalized to those on death row.

Of course God believes in us and Of COURSE God is a humanist! We are God's greatest creation. We are made in God's very own "image and likeness" (Gen. 1:26).

Mr. Beuttel argues that "when we elevate man, we lower the cross." I don't believe this is true. God elevates man. God believes that we are worthy of being saved -- even to the extent that we are worthy of the sacrificial self-gift of His Only Begotten Son -- even after failing Him, ignoring Him, denying Him, and disobeying Him again and again throughout history. The cross elevates mankind because it invites us to pick up our own cross, follow Christ, and be saved. God did not save us by mere fiat or a divine command; instead by invitation to a personal, love relationship with God -- because God respects our free will, our autonomous being, and elevates us so we can have life to the full for all eternity in complete communion with Him. I cannot think of any greater destiny for mankind!

This kind of thinking, that diminishes humanity, that focuses on what we do not have, are not capable of, or the errors of our way leads to a defeatism which says: the world is the way it is because we are fallen, sinful people. We can do no better. THIS is a great lie! This is like walking on the water with Our Lord and then faltering and failing and saying: this is the way it has to be.

It doesn't, and that is why Jesus rebukes Peter. Oh, Mr. Beuttel, "You of Little Faith!"

Furthermore, the Scriptures are meant to be opened and interpreted as they speak to us. I appreciate Rob Bell's suggestion for a new insight on this walking on water passage. I don't believe Rob Bell is trying to replace this interpretation (Peter having faith in himself) with how the passage is traditionally interpreted. Instead, I think he is trying to challenge us to believe in ourselves, to embrace the Good News of the Gospel, and our commitment to share and spread it.

Too often, we sell ourselves short. We don't think we're qualified to be called to such a role or responsibility. But we know well (ESPECIALLY through the example of Peter, perhaps the dimwit of all the disciples) that God doesn't call the qualified; God qualifies the called.

Mr. Beuttel attacks Mr. Bell to make this a clear-cut case of either/or. But I would invite Mr. Beuttel to consider this passage as a both/and scenario and to broaden his understanding and appreciation of the Sacred Scriptures.

Of course we must have faith in Christ. But we must also have faith in ourselves. God does.

Changed Forever

This Sunday we recapitulate the mission and identity of Jesus ... and what this means for us today.

In the first reading [Acts 1:12-14], after witnessing the Ascension, the first disciples return to the Upper Room and pray.  They know what they're in for, and they know they need all the help they can get.  So they get on their knees and, with Mary, they pray.

In the second reading [1 Peter 4:13-16] we are encouraged to emulate Christ, giving us hope and strength, even in the face of persecution.  In fact, these struggles and suffering are reasons to rejoice because in our fidelity to God, like Christ, we are glorified (and God is glorified in us).

In the Gospel [John 17:1-11a], we are reminded of who Jesus is, what he did, and how we have been changed ... forever.

Why do the disciples pray?  Why should we be encouraged in our suffering?  Why have we been changed forever?

Because Jesus did NOTHING on his own.  All his works (healing, forgiving, and life-giving) were the result of his prayer and union with the Father.  Jesus' humanity is our supreme example because Jesus listens to the Father and freely carries out His will.  Jesus empties himself (kenosis) through trust and love.  This is exactly how we are to live.

John 17:1-11 reinforces not only the divinity of Christ, but the direct union between the Son and the Father.  Although Jesus is fully human and like us in every way but sin, his humanity never exhausts his divinity.  Which means that the Son is fully conscious of being the Son, and through this union with the Father (what the early Fathers call the 'hypostatic union' of the dual-natures of Christ), Jesus acts through, with, and in God.

This is the exact phrase we use in the Eucharistic Prayer:  that "through him, with him, and in him and in the unity of the Holy Spirit" we might direct our energy, our will, and our passions in SYNERGY with God's power, energy, and grace.

We are changed forever because of the Incarnation and the Resurrection.  The Incarnation is the "irrevocable commitment" of God to ALL humanity: by becoming one of us, we become brothers and sisters of God the Son, to be loved as a brother or sister, and to treat one another as brothers and sisters.  

So where does the Ascension fit in and where does that leave us now?

As the Cistercian priest, Roch Kereszty has written, in the Resurrection the crucified humanity of Jesus is completely spiritualized: both his human body and soul are transformed by the Holy Spirit. In this way, Jesus himself can be called "Spirit," can not only breathe for the Holy Spirit on all humanity (as we see on Pentecost) but he can be present to all and in all those who love him. 

So yes, as 1 Peter tells us, we should, "Rejoice to the extent that you share in the sufferings of Christ, so that when his glory is revealed you may also rejoice exultantly."  This is because we are not the Church of Success; we are the Church of Suffering.  Pope Benedict XVI wrote, in God is Near Us, "The Church of the suffering gives credibility to Christ; she is God's success in the world; the sign that gives hope and courage; the sign from which still flows the power of life, which reaches beyond mere thoughts of success which thereby purifies [humanity] and opens up for God a door into this world."  

Just as Jesus gives his whole divine self to the Father on the cross in his humanity, so also we are called to give our whole human selves to the Father in our sufferings ... and in the process, we are divinized, united with Christ, as we suffer with him and he suffers with us.

We are changed forever.  And for this, we not only pray, but we rejoice. 

Mission Accomplished?

Today is the Feast of the Ascension.

And it's a holy day of obligation, depending on the diocese you live in (if not celebrated today, it will be commemorated on Sunday).  

But more than that, it's the summation of the Incarnation.

Before people get upset and begin to make their cases for the unequaled significance of Jesus' death and resurrection, let me make my point.

Perhaps the greatest modern theologian, Karl Rahner, invites us to consider it this way:

Instead of thinking about the Incarnation (Jesus, the Word become flesh) as a 33 year-long visit to a faraway land a long, long time ago, we ought to consider the Incarnation as a celebration of God's radical commitment of God's self to all humanity.

This changes everything. It changes the way we look at Jesus, the way we look at our Church, and the way we look at those outside our Church. But perhaps that's for another post.

The point is, the Incarnation is the fullness of God's revelation (self-communication), God's self-gift.

The Incarnation is God's radical commitment to all humanity because the Divine Word takes on human flesh, saves us from our sin, and restores us to right-relationship with our Creator and Lord. The Church gives witness to this event in history. And we, as members of the Church, are called to witness this event in history through the way we think, speak, and act in the world.

And all of this meets at the point in history we call the Ascension.
Today's Gospel [Matthew 28:16-20] tells us the story of the Ascension.

We learn many important lessons: principally among these, when the disciples saw Jesus, they worshipped him. They knew their friend and teacher was more than a friend and teacher.

And yet they also doubted. And how could they not? They were devout Jews, and Jews were (and are) monotheistic. Jesus' divinity was not an easy thing to synthesize with their idea of God. But they still worshipped.

The disciples (and, by proxy, we ourselves) are given a mission: to "make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."

And the disciples (and we ourselves) are given hope: "I am with you always."
So we work to accomplish this goal: to share the Good News of Jesus Christ!

We live in the already: God is already among us; we are already doing God's work.
And we live in the not-yet. Jesus will come again; our work will always be incomplete.

And that's exactly how it's supposed to be, thanks to the Ascension.


Mission accomplished! (?)