God
Faith
Homilies
One thing which I've occasionally noticed in the Faith is a sort of modern-day juridicism-- a sort of following of rules instead of understanding the bigger picture of the Gospel message. Moments where people begin to serve tradition, versus letting tradition serve them.
We are called by Christ to exhibit radical hospitality: to meet people where they are. Jesus repeatedly did this in His ministry, emphasizing by example that rules are the means, not the end.
Some of us are magnificently called to consecrated religious life. Those brothers and sisters, who so dutifully follow their rule and so maintain their vocational discipline-- truly they are very close to the heart of Christ.
But for those of us who pray, celebrate, and mourn in parochial settings, we must be careful to have a sort of dynamism-- to have flexibility with rules according to the ever-evolving needs of the parish, where we are called to companion people in all walks of faith life.
When Jesus was criticized for allowing His disciples to pluck grain on the Sabbath, He replied "The sabbath was made for man, not man for the sabbath" (Mark 2:27). When criticized for not following ritual washing customs, He warned "You abandon the commandment of God and hold to human tradition" (Mark 7:1-23). In the Parable of the Good Samaritan, He challenges us to ask, "Who acted as a neighbor", not "What technical rules should be followed?"
The goal is to love God with all our hearts, and to love our neighbors as we love ourselves. To become saints, and to make saints of others.
In our worship spaces, sometimes this might look like deep, silent, solitary intercessory prayer for others. Other times it might be in the form of communal seriousness, such as I see from the monks at St. John's when I pray the Divine Office with them. Yet other times however, ministering Sacraments such as Baptism and Confirmation in our sacred spaces might mean hugs and even clapping, as we draw these people closer to Christ's heart by welcoming them into our Church family.
Discernment is key: there is are times and places for all of these things. Each of us should be continually asking ourselves, "How can we lead the most souls to God?" If we get to a point where we are serving the rules versus the other way around, we risk missing those chances to perform acts of profound evangelization.
This applies to inner rule as well. In his work "The Practice of the Presence of God", Carmelite friar Brother Lawrence says the following:
Rules and tradition provide us with discipline. But taken too far, they can "limit the conversation". In his book "Abandonment to Divine Providence", the famous Jesuit priest Jean Pierre de Caussade provides the following guidance:
At home, in the grocery store, or in our church buildings, sometimes God will ask us to pray silently; other times, the best thing we can do is stop our solitary prayer, and go greet a new family who is attending the Holy Mass for the first time, and make them feel welcome.
And the workings of the Holy Spirit are fluid; God's will can and often does change, moment to moment.
An over-emphasis on following rules risks drawing us not only inward, but it risks pulling us into judgement of others-- because they are not praying in the same way as I am, they are doing something wrong. Or even worse, in a place of ego we might not think they are as holy as we are.
By contrast with ego, a place of beautiful, deep humility might issue to us a different invitation: an invitation to charity. An invitation to ask ourselves how the Holy Spirit might be working through that other person, even when their way of praying or of communicating with others might not look exactly like our own.
An invitation to ask ourselves, "How can I best make saints of the people around me, even when that means stepping outside of my own conventions and habits." It is in this way we can draw ourselves and others into the deep and wondrous mystery of God's abundant love.
We are called by Christ to exhibit radical hospitality: to meet people where they are. Jesus repeatedly did this in His ministry, emphasizing by example that rules are the means, not the end.
Some of us are magnificently called to consecrated religious life. Those brothers and sisters, who so dutifully follow their rule and so maintain their vocational discipline-- truly they are very close to the heart of Christ.
But for those of us who pray, celebrate, and mourn in parochial settings, we must be careful to have a sort of dynamism-- to have flexibility with rules according to the ever-evolving needs of the parish, where we are called to companion people in all walks of faith life.
When Jesus was criticized for allowing His disciples to pluck grain on the Sabbath, He replied "The sabbath was made for man, not man for the sabbath" (Mark 2:27). When criticized for not following ritual washing customs, He warned "You abandon the commandment of God and hold to human tradition" (Mark 7:1-23). In the Parable of the Good Samaritan, He challenges us to ask, "Who acted as a neighbor", not "What technical rules should be followed?"
The goal is to love God with all our hearts, and to love our neighbors as we love ourselves. To become saints, and to make saints of others.
In our worship spaces, sometimes this might look like deep, silent, solitary intercessory prayer for others. Other times it might be in the form of communal seriousness, such as I see from the monks at St. John's when I pray the Divine Office with them. Yet other times however, ministering Sacraments such as Baptism and Confirmation in our sacred spaces might mean hugs and even clapping, as we draw these people closer to Christ's heart by welcoming them into our Church family.
Discernment is key: there is are times and places for all of these things. Each of us should be continually asking ourselves, "How can we lead the most souls to God?" If we get to a point where we are serving the rules versus the other way around, we risk missing those chances to perform acts of profound evangelization.
This applies to inner rule as well. In his work "The Practice of the Presence of God", Carmelite friar Brother Lawrence says the following:
"The most holy and necessary practice in our spiritual life is the presence of God. That means finding constant pleasure in His divine company, speaking humbly and lovingly with him in all seasons, at every moment, without limiting the conversation in any way."
Rules and tradition provide us with discipline. But taken too far, they can "limit the conversation". In his book "Abandonment to Divine Providence", the famous Jesuit priest Jean Pierre de Caussade provides the following guidance:
"If, by the divine will, it is a present duty to read, then reading will produce the destined effect in the soul. If it is the divine will that reading be relinquished for contemplation, then this will perform the work of God in the soul and reading would become useless and prejudicial."
At home, in the grocery store, or in our church buildings, sometimes God will ask us to pray silently; other times, the best thing we can do is stop our solitary prayer, and go greet a new family who is attending the Holy Mass for the first time, and make them feel welcome.
And the workings of the Holy Spirit are fluid; God's will can and often does change, moment to moment.
An over-emphasis on following rules risks drawing us not only inward, but it risks pulling us into judgement of others-- because they are not praying in the same way as I am, they are doing something wrong. Or even worse, in a place of ego we might not think they are as holy as we are.
By contrast with ego, a place of beautiful, deep humility might issue to us a different invitation: an invitation to charity. An invitation to ask ourselves how the Holy Spirit might be working through that other person, even when their way of praying or of communicating with others might not look exactly like our own.
An invitation to ask ourselves, "How can I best make saints of the people around me, even when that means stepping outside of my own conventions and habits." It is in this way we can draw ourselves and others into the deep and wondrous mystery of God's abundant love.