Over my time in religious life I have come to recognize that it is important for me to pray for my religious brothers, especially those with whom I am assigned in community. Perhaps this is something obvious to someone better formed or less distracted than me, but for me it's something I have to keep in mind. I don't mean praying for the brothers in a general way, but individually and by name. At the time of the preces or intercessions when I say Morning or Evening prayer on my own, or when I have time to recollect intentions before a Mass, I try to pray for each of the brothers in the house. This helps me to remember to be grateful for each in his own vocation and consecration, to recall the particular intentions or concerns of each, and to remember that some might have other intentions and struggles which I don't know about.
I have found this to be an important practice because it helps to establish my thoughts in what I call interior charity. This is to name a general, interior attitude of gratefulness for each brother and the desire for his happiness and the flourishing of his gifts and vocation.
Exterior charity, at least within the normal limits expected in religious life, is an easy thing relative to this. It is made up of exterior acts, and anyone can make himself do them. And this isn't a bad, or necessarily disingenuous thing; anyone who wants to give himself to the ascesis of common life has to learn how to love people he might not like, or be brother to those who might seem to be impeding fraternal life.
But this interior charity, this interior disposition of gratitude and appreciation for the other brothers in the thought and affect, it is for me that which--more than any other single thing--makes the difference for my day-to-day and moment-to-moment peace and relative undistraction in my own life of prayer and obedience. Because it makes such a difference for me, it is something that the devil is always trying to trick me into throwing away. Whatever the occasion is, whether it be my intellectual pride, rubrical or doctrinal righteousness, or any number of my petty vanities, the devil will always be trying to use such occasions as a means to get me to abandon interior charity and thus lose my own peace, thereby increasing my misery and reducing my attention to the work that the Holy Spirit has given me to do.
January 28, 2011
January 26, 2011
Fogs and Clouds
St. Augustine, he understands how hard it is to try to think about such things as we are supposed to in studying theology:
Noli quaerere quid sit veritas; statim enim se opponent caliginem imaginum corporalium et nubila phantasmatum... (De Trinitate VIII:3)
Don't ask what truth is; immediately there will be against you a fog of bodily images and clouds of funny ideas.
Noli quaerere quid sit veritas; statim enim se opponent caliginem imaginum corporalium et nubila phantasmatum... (De Trinitate VIII:3)
Don't ask what truth is; immediately there will be against you a fog of bodily images and clouds of funny ideas.
Trinitarian Theology
This morning I'm reading Lewis Ayres's account of Augustine's "tenative" and "cautious" exploration of the how and in what way the persons of the Trinity can be "understood as identical with the intra-divine acts that Scripture attributes to them."
I'm grateful for this, because it helps me to remember that when it comes to the work of offering an account of the Blessed Trinity, the starting point is not reason, concepts of ideal community or social utopia, or a meta-argument about theological 'starting points.' The beginning is Sacred Scripture, from which God the Trinity is revealed to us.
I'm grateful for this, because it helps me to remember that when it comes to the work of offering an account of the Blessed Trinity, the starting point is not reason, concepts of ideal community or social utopia, or a meta-argument about theological 'starting points.' The beginning is Sacred Scripture, from which God the Trinity is revealed to us.
January 25, 2011
Lessons from Hansel and Gretel
Over the winter break I came across a little bilingual edition of selected stories from the Brothers Grimm. I've been using it for my subway reading as a way to try to learn to read some German. I started with Hansel and Gretel, as it's a familiar story. Or so I thought. Truth be told, it's a rather macabre and depressing business. Not the least trouble is my nagging suspicion that the stepmother and the witch might be the same person, given that mom is announced to be (conveniently) dead after the children return home from Gretel having cooked up the witch in the oven.
However, certain lessons are to be learned from the glorious maladventure of these poor children. For example:
Grownups are not be trusted.
Even the good ones can be nagged and convinced to do horrible things to you.
It's a good idea to eavesdrop on those who are discussing what to do about you.
Make sure nobody locks you in the house.
Faced with mortal crisis, it is important to encourage one another, pray to God, and not to lose heart.
Sometimes sweet things are a trap.
People don't give you pancakes with milk, sugar, and nuts for no reason.
Witches can be recognized by their red eyes. Remember also that they can't see very far, but have a heightened sense of smell, like an animal.
It's not only acceptable to trick and kill those who enslave and try to kill you, it's a moral imperative.
Passive aggression and playing dumb can be powerful weapons in the hands of oppressed persons.
Don't be afraid to ask for help, even if it seems like an unlikely source. (i.e. the duck at the river)
Money fixes problems.
Deaths in families necessitate the reconfiguration of all other relationships.
However, certain lessons are to be learned from the glorious maladventure of these poor children. For example:
Grownups are not be trusted.
Even the good ones can be nagged and convinced to do horrible things to you.
It's a good idea to eavesdrop on those who are discussing what to do about you.
Make sure nobody locks you in the house.
Faced with mortal crisis, it is important to encourage one another, pray to God, and not to lose heart.
Sometimes sweet things are a trap.
People don't give you pancakes with milk, sugar, and nuts for no reason.
Witches can be recognized by their red eyes. Remember also that they can't see very far, but have a heightened sense of smell, like an animal.
It's not only acceptable to trick and kill those who enslave and try to kill you, it's a moral imperative.
Passive aggression and playing dumb can be powerful weapons in the hands of oppressed persons.
Don't be afraid to ask for help, even if it seems like an unlikely source. (i.e. the duck at the river)
Money fixes problems.
Deaths in families necessitate the reconfiguration of all other relationships.
St. Hilary on Theological Education
Today I finally got around to starting in on my project of reading St. Hilary's De Trinitate. Only a few pages in, I've already found some beautiful doctrine. For example, as he reflects on the revelation of the Word made flesh in the Gospel of John, Hilary pauses to note one of the foundational delights of theological education:
Proficit mens ultra naturalis sensus intelligentiam et plus de Deo quam opinabatur docetur. (I:10)
"The mind goes beyond the understanding of its natural knowledge, and is taught more about God that it had imagined it could be."
To me, this is where prayer and theological study have their most compelling intersection. Without a genuine and sustained encounter with Sacred Scripture, God remains an abstract concept. So abstract, most of the time, as to be so thin an idea that there is hardly anything to say about it, much less any personal response. This is the state of our secular culture; it hasn't forgotten about God but only allowed the idea of God to become so faint and transparent as to make no demand and unable to enter into any conversation.
But when you begin to live with the Scripture, and then put yourself into prayerful conversation with those who have been reflecting and exerting themselves to understand its meaning over the centuries, the abstract concept begins to achieve a density that finally transcends everything else. Your soul is taught with a sort of knowing you didn't even know about before.
Proficit mens ultra naturalis sensus intelligentiam et plus de Deo quam opinabatur docetur. (I:10)
"The mind goes beyond the understanding of its natural knowledge, and is taught more about God that it had imagined it could be."
To me, this is where prayer and theological study have their most compelling intersection. Without a genuine and sustained encounter with Sacred Scripture, God remains an abstract concept. So abstract, most of the time, as to be so thin an idea that there is hardly anything to say about it, much less any personal response. This is the state of our secular culture; it hasn't forgotten about God but only allowed the idea of God to become so faint and transparent as to make no demand and unable to enter into any conversation.
But when you begin to live with the Scripture, and then put yourself into prayerful conversation with those who have been reflecting and exerting themselves to understand its meaning over the centuries, the abstract concept begins to achieve a density that finally transcends everything else. Your soul is taught with a sort of knowing you didn't even know about before.
January 24, 2011
Beards and Perseverance
I have a theory about Capuchin beard-growing that I think all young friars should at least hear. My theory is largely dismissed, but to me the anecdotal evidence is convincing. In short, this is my theory: you can grow the traditional Capuchin beard if you wish, but if you do you can't cut it off. If you do, you will lose your vocation and you will leave the Order.
Allow me to elaborate.
The beard is, of course, traditional to the Capuchins. And not just any beard; by 'beard' in this sense is meant the natural, untrimmed beard that grows unchecked from your face and neck. Our first Constitutions prescribed the wearing of the beard because it was "manly, austere, natural, an imitation of Christ and the saints of our Order, and despised." The "despised" is usually left off in quotations of this precept. It's an odd omission; grow a traditional Capuchin beard and you will find that it is still despised, as the brothers themselves fulfill (somewhat ironically) the words of their fathers.
Nowadays the beard is optional, though many friars sport some form of facial hair as a nod to the tradition. Our current Constitutions say that the wearing of the beard is subject to the "norm of pluriformity." (pluriformitatis norma) When it's morning in Paris you can try to call a semiotician to make sense of that one. Good luck. Nevertheless, the beard still has a lot going for it, not the least because it serves to further distinguish us from the secular clergy of the Latin rite, who, good Romans that they are, tend to go about clean-shaven.
There are various tales about how it was that the traditional beard became optional. Some friars say that it was necessitated by the cultural shifts of the 1960s, when beards came to associated with hippies, homosexuals, and (gasp) social radicals. Another version (my favorite) says that when the brothers first came to New York City they found that when they went out in clerical attire (with Roman collars obscured by their beards) they were promptly mistaken for Rabbis.
In any case, it is now nobody's business but your own whether you have a beard of any sort or for whatever reason, religious or otherwise. Therefore, it sometimes gets into the head of a zealous young Capuchin, a novice or recently professed perhaps, that he would like to grow the big, traditional, Capuchin beard. Congratulations, I say, and good for you, but be warned.
Anecdotal evidence suggests that once you grow this traditional beard, if you then cut it off, you will lose your vocation and leave the Order. I have observed this several times, and have developed a theory to explain it: When a Capuchin, in his fervor for his particular vocation, decides to grow the traditional beard and succeeds, somehow the Capuchin-ness of his soul grows into and lodges in the beard. If the beard is then removed, the connection of the soul to the vocation is severed, the grace of perseverance is lost, and the brother goes back to the world.
UPDATE: For those who are trying to grow a beard, and don't have scruples about assimilating to the new syncretism of our age, I learn from City of God IV:11 that they should pray to the god Fortuna Barbata to bless them with success.
FURTHER UPDATE: As of late summer 2013, we are observing carefully a possible instance of counter-evidence to the theory.
Allow me to elaborate.
The beard is, of course, traditional to the Capuchins. And not just any beard; by 'beard' in this sense is meant the natural, untrimmed beard that grows unchecked from your face and neck. Our first Constitutions prescribed the wearing of the beard because it was "manly, austere, natural, an imitation of Christ and the saints of our Order, and despised." The "despised" is usually left off in quotations of this precept. It's an odd omission; grow a traditional Capuchin beard and you will find that it is still despised, as the brothers themselves fulfill (somewhat ironically) the words of their fathers.
Nowadays the beard is optional, though many friars sport some form of facial hair as a nod to the tradition. Our current Constitutions say that the wearing of the beard is subject to the "norm of pluriformity." (pluriformitatis norma) When it's morning in Paris you can try to call a semiotician to make sense of that one. Good luck. Nevertheless, the beard still has a lot going for it, not the least because it serves to further distinguish us from the secular clergy of the Latin rite, who, good Romans that they are, tend to go about clean-shaven.
There are various tales about how it was that the traditional beard became optional. Some friars say that it was necessitated by the cultural shifts of the 1960s, when beards came to associated with hippies, homosexuals, and (gasp) social radicals. Another version (my favorite) says that when the brothers first came to New York City they found that when they went out in clerical attire (with Roman collars obscured by their beards) they were promptly mistaken for Rabbis.
In any case, it is now nobody's business but your own whether you have a beard of any sort or for whatever reason, religious or otherwise. Therefore, it sometimes gets into the head of a zealous young Capuchin, a novice or recently professed perhaps, that he would like to grow the big, traditional, Capuchin beard. Congratulations, I say, and good for you, but be warned.
Anecdotal evidence suggests that once you grow this traditional beard, if you then cut it off, you will lose your vocation and leave the Order. I have observed this several times, and have developed a theory to explain it: When a Capuchin, in his fervor for his particular vocation, decides to grow the traditional beard and succeeds, somehow the Capuchin-ness of his soul grows into and lodges in the beard. If the beard is then removed, the connection of the soul to the vocation is severed, the grace of perseverance is lost, and the brother goes back to the world.
UPDATE: For those who are trying to grow a beard, and don't have scruples about assimilating to the new syncretism of our age, I learn from City of God IV:11 that they should pray to the god Fortuna Barbata to bless them with success.
FURTHER UPDATE: As of late summer 2013, we are observing carefully a possible instance of counter-evidence to the theory.
Sick of Myself
I love St. Augustine for his ability to capture in a few words a deep sense of an interior spiritual condition:
non ego vita mea sim: male vixi ex me, mors mihi fui: in te revivesco.
"May I not be my life: I have lived badly my way and have been death to myself: in You I will grow to live again." (Confessions, XII:X)
I myself am the worst enemy of my peace and spiritual joy, and only by losing this false self in the best of friends, God, can I even begin to live.
"It is not that someone else is preventing you from living happily, you yourself do now know what you want. Rather than admit this, you pretend that someone is preventing you from exercising your liberty. Who is this? It is you yourself." ~Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation, 112.
non ego vita mea sim: male vixi ex me, mors mihi fui: in te revivesco.
"May I not be my life: I have lived badly my way and have been death to myself: in You I will grow to live again." (Confessions, XII:X)
I myself am the worst enemy of my peace and spiritual joy, and only by losing this false self in the best of friends, God, can I even begin to live.
"It is not that someone else is preventing you from living happily, you yourself do now know what you want. Rather than admit this, you pretend that someone is preventing you from exercising your liberty. Who is this? It is you yourself." ~Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation, 112.
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