Amoris laetitia: Celibacy

Amoris laetitia is a document on the family, but it also has something to say about the celibate vocation in the Church. For example:

Whereas virginity is an “eschatological” sign of the risen Christ, marriage is a “historical” sign for us living in this world, a sign of the earthly Christ who chose to become one with us and gave himself up for us even to shedding his blood. (161)

This is true, so long as we don't push it too far. Christian married people, of course, like all Christians, participate in the eschatological character of the Church, and those consecrated to celibacy still have a foot in history.

Motherhood of Mary

The Martyrology is marvelous today:

The octave of the Nativity of the Lord and the day of his Circumcision, the solemnity of holy Mary, Mother of God, whom the Fathers at the Council of Ephesus acclaimed Theotokos, for from her the Word took flesh and the Son of God lived among human beings, he who is the prince of peace, to whom a Name above all names is given.

It's all in there: the solemnity of Mary, Mother of God, the octave of Christmas, the feast of the Circumcision, (which continues to be celebrated today in the Extraordinary Form), the feast of the Holy Name, of course associated with the circumcision but now having migrated to January 3, and even the the World Day of Peace, given to us by Pope Venerable Paul VI.

I know that the Motherhood of Mary, now today's principal title, is a restoration of something older and more venerable, but I've still sometimes wished that we could have the feast of the Lord's Circumcision. Maybe it's because the circumcision of my older nephew was one of the most interesting rituals I have ever been privileged to attend.

I think about this very bodily ritual by which Jesus of Nazareth was brought into the covenant of Abraham and I'm led to contemplate the mystery of his human body, out of the flesh of Mary, as the hinge that joins the old creation to the new.

I think about this sometimes at Holy Communion. It's clear that the Body of Christ we receive is not the finite, historical body of Jesus of Nazareth. (This is why I consider misled and confused those priests who replace 'behold the Lamb of God' at Communion with 'this is Jesus...') The Body we receive is Christ risen into the Sacraments of his Church. The wonder and marvelous mystery--as well as the stumbling block--of it all is that this Risen Body is continuous with the historical life of Jesus of Nazareth, born of Mary, executed on the Cross.

By our Holy Communion, we too become sharers in this mystery. We are made citizens of the new creation and are offered the grace to become new, renovated creatures, the grace of eyes to see new hope in the midst of the aimlessness and violence of the world. But at the same time we remain, in some sense, children of Adam and Eve, laboring under the confusions, pathologies, and injuries that are the whole human legacy of brutality and sin to which we are the latest heirs. Christianity makes us into very curious beings, blessed messes, weeds and wheat, rejoicing in our newly-granted citizenship in the new creation but still struggling with everything that continues to bind us to the old.


Overheard:

Friar 1: "How's your life, Father?"

Friar 2: "My life? There is no longer 'my life' but Christ who lives in me."

Friar 1: "I think Christ is a little cranky today."


It's cute, but I think it captures something. Despite the dual citizenship of the Christian, member of the 'Israel of God' which nonetheless is still in pilgrimage in history, he is not two people, but one. From the Cross Jesus gave us his mother to be our mother. By our burial into his death in baptism, we are reborn of Mary. We become the offspring of her 'fruitful virginity,' itself the great sign of the dawning new creation.

And yet it is the child of Eve who becomes a child of Mary, and the 'inner child' that was born of Eve remains. Miserable as he necessarily is, I need to treat him like the spoiled, short-sighted, tantrum-throwing brat that original sin has made him. I have to put him in 'time out' when it's time to pray and when I'm called to any kind of delicate and difficult charity for my neighbor. But I also have to look upon him with some fondness, not hating him, and not treating him with the contempt which only makes his wounds fester all the more, for he also is me.

Unclehood

In becoming an uncle, I realize that I have entered into a new moment in my religious life and priesthood.

For several weeks now I have telling my Latin gag about how though an uncle I have no obligation to be avuncular. When one woman I know got it and laughed out loud, I wanted to quote one of the great anti-heroes of my youth, Henry Rollins, and say, 'I will follow you on bloody stumps through the snow,' but that, of course, would have been inappropriate. The sentiments were there, though, in a chaste way.

When I first came into the culture of religious life, I was surprised by several aspects of how religious related to their families of origin. First, I was relieved to discover that it was entirely normal to have family members who were hostile to the religious vocation; in fact, it was often the ones from Catholic families who were given the most trouble! Second, I was surprised to see sets of siblings in religious life. I guess I had thought that a religious vocation was such an odd thing that there would never be more than one from a single family. My intuition about this was entirely wrong. I have met several sets of brothers in the Order and have known many who had sisters in religious life. Just the other day I met a young diocesan seminarian with a twin brother who is a cloistered Carmelite.

But most of all, I noticed the way religious and priests talked about their nieces and nephews. It was sort of like how other people talked about their grandchildren, rejoicing in the milestones of their lives and providing a curious, extra-parental connection to the preceding generation. When I ever had a spare moment to have a thought during the three days of obsequies for Fr. Bernard last week, I would reflect also upon his unclehood. His nephews formed a kind of inner circle of family as it related to him, and their griefs and gratitudes were so strong. One of my prayers for his passing has been to ask his prayers to obtain the grace of good friar-uncleness for me.

My New Older Brother

Yesterday afternoon I had the honor and joy of attending my new nephew's circumcision ceremony at the home of my brother and sister-in-law. It was an interesting and happy event, on both the natural and spiritual levels.

"You shall circumcise the flesh of your foreskin, and that shall be the sign of the covenant between Me and you. And throughout all generations, every male among you shall be circumcised at the age of eight days." (Genesis 17: 11-12, JPS)

And so it was for my little nephew: Yesterday he was eight days old, and my brother delegated a professional mohel to bring his son into the covenant.

On the natural level, I was happy for the new parents in their gratitude and wonder at their healthy little baby boy. I was happy for him too, having arrived in the world with two bright and gentle parents. It was good to see my family as we received the blessings of new identities and reconfigured relationships; to see my brother as a father and my parents in the beginning of their grandparenthood.

The afternoon was also quite fascinating on the supernatural level. Here's what really blew my mind: I've been on this earth for almost thirty-eight years, but as I looked at this tiny, eight-day-old baby sitting on the throne that had been prepared for Elijah, I saw someone older than me. Here was my senior, not my young nephew but my elder in the faith of Abraham, the Israel of history. For me, as a member of the "Israel of God," (Galatians 6:16) of the New Jerusalem that is the eschatological marriage of heaven and earth (Revelation 21:2), of the Body of Christ which is the Risen Son of Man containing in Himself the destiny that is the End Times already here, this baby will always be my older brother.

In these last days, by the astounding mercy of God I have been grafted into the faith of Abraham. I enjoy by privilege the faith that is my nephew's by right. May I always revere and respect my new little elder.



Here he is with his father, mother, and maternal grandmother, sporting his little skullcap and sucking on some gauze soaked in Manischewitz.

Latest Installment

God to said to Abraham: "I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you; I will make your name great, and you will be a blessing." (Genesis 12: 2, JPS)

In an email from my father this morning, I learn that God has delivered his most recent installment in the fulfillment of this promise, a baby boy to my brother and sister-in-law.

May the Holy One of Israel furnish him every good gift and help him to grow strong in wisdom and grace.

Because I am the brother of the child's father, I am an uncle but not an avunculus. Hence I am under no obligation to be avuncular.