28 November 2012

Humility and The City

In a previous post I commented on the problem of marriage and the need to view the day-to-day sacrifices within our relationships as being connected to the cross of Jesus. There is another side to this perspective that we must also keep in mind, especially in the interest of humility.  St. Augustine attacked a related subject from this perspective in his City of God. In the middle of the 1st Book, Augustine discusses the problem of a barbarian attack and the rape of some dedicated virgins. The impulse of these virgins, influenced by Roman and Greek values was to somehow redress the situation through suicide. They had been violated, and that could never be undone. Augustine's sagacious argument is that such a suicide would itself be wrong, due to the fact that the victim – the virgin herself – is an innocent person. Physical virginity can be taken away, but the spiritual virginity remains.

I am not sure that a modern audience can really get the seriousness of the issue on an instinctive level [in support of this claim: the works of Sarah Jessica Parker (please do not follow this link)], so let me try to explain: To the violated person, the impulse to suicide could be considered reasonable in that an essential aspect of the virgin's identity, namely virginity, has been destroyed in a literal sense. At another level, in considering this reaction, the would-be virgin is not defending the value of chastity, but succumbing to a subtle version of the sin of pride.

The virgin lives to commit her virginity to God.  This is a beautiful and glorious thing.  Those who have eyes to see it can truly appreciate the inspiration of such a sacrifice.  But what if this sacrifice is taken away?  What if in the eyes of others you have lost that perfect gift that you were proud to offer to God?  Augustine points to an even greater opportunity to glorify God in losing this first opportunity. Is it a beautiful thing to offer one's life to God through chastity and celibacy? Of course it is. But these things are not the ultimate goal. The ultimate goal is a giving of the self to God. This goes far beyond any specific sacrifice we might be called to make, even if we in some way identify ourselves through that sacrifice.

Humility in our acts of faith to God requires us to make such unexpected sacrifices (or perhaps we could call them "meta-sacrifices?"--a sacrifice of a sacrifice). Pride comes in when we believe our own sacrifices are so significant that we practically become our own saviors. There was one necessary sacrifice – Jesus taking up his cross and dying on the hill of Calvary. Our own sacrifices are connected with this great sacrifice, but cannot be allowed to overshadow it in our personal lives. I have found for myself that the more I focus on how much I am sacrificing at a particular moment, the less it helps me grow closer to the true Savior.

Ecclesiastes points out, "Vanity of vanities! All is vanity." Let not our own sacrifices become a vanity, but "let him who boasts, boast in the Lord."

01 November 2012

All Saints

Today I had the opportunity to listen to a very beautiful homily at St. Louis Bertrand on the focus of today's holy day of obligation:  All Saint's Day.  You can, and should, take some time to look into the history of this day in the Catholic calendar.  My point, for the moment, is simply to relate to you some thoughts about the significance of the saints for our own struggles in realistically living out the Christian ideal.

Saints are often viewed as distant and intimidating by Catholic laypeople (and, sadly, also to some religious and priests).  The origin of this attitude is fairly easy to pinpoint:  we all feel intimidated by the prospect of living up to high expectations.  Because we have shortcomings, the saints can seem like almost a different species from ourselves by virtue of the Church's judgment that they have achieved a level of perfection in this otherwise imperfect world.  A solution to this emotional distance is often attempted by pointing out all the saints who have been great sinners in their earlier lives, but it is a bit odd to try to appreciate a good person on the basis of identification with his or her shortcomings.

This solution is acceptable so far as it goes, but strikes me as woefully incomplete.  If the example of the saints is to be helpful in a practical sense, we have to widen our vision.  The basic point of the homily I mentioned above was that the celebration of All Saints is not just about enjoying the saints themselves.  The celebration of the saints is about what God has done for them and for us through them. 

Sainthood is not some genetic advantage, but the consequence of a choice.  In fact, it is the consequence of a series of choices.  God is always present and offering Himself to us.  It is up to us to choose to receive God.  This is what the Church means when she defends the concept of faith and works.  It is not that God's grace is earned by by our works on earth in the sense that we become deserving of them.  It is that we must be active participants in our own holiness.  I have often been guilty of the flaw of desiring God to wave His hand and make me holy against my own will, but this would really be impossible.  Holiness without active choice is not possible for human beings.  A church can be a holy place by something else acting upon it--the blessing of a bishop or the fact that the Eucharist is kept there--but human beings are nothing without the capacity for self-determination. Thus, the saints show us that we may have imperfections, but we must make a choice of where our lives must go once we recognize them.

Sainthood is what we are all called to live out for ourselves, and it is not the unattainable extreme that many assume.  The Saints we celebrate today simply prove that when we strive to live lives open to God, He will be there to fill us with holiness as He promises.