GIFTS, FRUITS, AND CHARISMS

Growing in one’s knowledge of God (really inseparable from loving God) means knowing God as God wants to be known, and not as reduced to the standards of some minimalist, nor as embellished according to the baroque leanings of some weaver of fantasies. Knowing God as God wants to be known happens to be beyond our natural human capacity, and is made possible only by a gift from God—the supernatural Virtue of Faith infused in the soul at Baptism. This is the Faith that allows us to affirm: “We worship one God in the Trinity…we distinguish among the Persons, but we do not divide the Substance” (Athanasian Creed). So also, growth in knowing God means growth in knowing each of the Divine Persons.

Perhaps, we can say that since the Third Person of the Most Holy Trinity is precisely “spirit”—which term, in itself, defies analogy with matter—and because the human person normally perceives reality through the senses of his material body, there is understandably greater difficulty in dealing with the Holy Spirit. One way of getting to know the Holy Spirit better is through considering His Gifts, Fruits and Charisms.

The Church teaches that there are Seven Gifts of the Holy Spirit: Wisdom, Understanding, Counsel, Fortitude, Knowledge, Piety, and Fear of the Lord (CCC, No. 1831). This is the order of their enumeration in Sacred Scripture (Is 11:1-2).

“Wisdom” disposes the intellect to be easily moved to the contemplation of divine truths, to have a “supernatural outlook” that views reality as God does, and to take delight in the things of God. “Understanding” disposes the intellect to penetrate more deeply the truths of the Faith. “Counsel” disposes the intellect to make right decisions on the specific acts to be done. “Fortitude” inclines one to do, actually, God’s will inspite of difficulties. “Knowledge” disposes the intellect to see the value of created things in relation to God. “Piety” corresponds to the virtue of "religion" (giving God "due" worship, under the cardinal virtue of Justice) and inclines one’s will to revere God as Father and to love one’s fellowmen as children of God. “Fear of the Lord” inclines one’s will to show a “filial” fear—as distinguished from “servile” fear—of offending God, and therefore to abhor sin out of love for God.

The Seven Gifts serve to complete or to perfect the Virtues. While both categories of interior dispositions facilitate the same good human actions, in the exercise of the Virtues, the actor is the human person through his will (aided by grace); with the Gifts, the mover is the Holy Spirit. Spiritual writers have compared the Virtues to the oars of a boat, and the Gifts to the sail, by which the boat could move faster with lesser effort, as long as the wind is blowing.

Somewhat in consequence of the Gifts, “the fruits of the spirit are perfections that the Holy Spirit forms in us as the first fruits of eternal glory. The tradition of the Church lists twelve of them” (CCC, No. 1832; cf. Gal 5:22-23 [Vulgate]). These external manifestations of the indwelling of the Holy Spirit in the person are “Charity” (love of God above all else for His own sake and of neighbor as oneself for the love of God), “Joy” (rooted in the sense of one’s divine filiation, compatible with suffering), “Peace” (tranquility in order), “Patience” or "Longanimity", “Kindness”, “Goodness”, “Generosity” or "Magnanimity", “Gentleness” or "Mildness" (“a bruised reed he shall not break, and a smoldering wick he shall not quench” [Is 42:3]), “Faithfulness” (Fidelity), “Modesty”, “Self-Control” (Continence), and “Chastity”.

While the Gifts are received by all at Baptism, and the Fruits are yielded by all who are in the state of grace (albeit in varying degrees of abundance, depending on one’s correspondence), Sacred Scripture also speaks of special “gifts”, perhaps better called Charisms (from the Greek, kharis, “favor” or “gift”). Thus:

“Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of ministries, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of workings, but the same God, who works all things in all…To one through the Spirit is given the utterance of wisdom; and to another the utterance of knowledge… faith… healing…the working of miracles… prophecy… the distinguishing of spirits…various kinds of tongues… interpretation of tongues. But all these things are the work of one and the same Spirit, who allots to everyone according as he will” (1 Cor 12:4-11). Parenthetically, the quoted passage is an early form of “appropriation”: “works” are ascribed to God (the Father), i.e., of creation and providence; “ministries” (service) to the “Lord” (God the Son); and “gifts” (charismata) to the Holy Spirit. The gifts here are “special” in the sense that not everyone receives them, and these are mainly, primarily, for the good of others or the Church, rather than the individual receiving the particular charism.

St. Josemaria writes: “Get to know the Holy Spirit, the Great Unknown, the one who has to sanctify you. Don’t forget that you are a temple of God. The Paraclete is in the center of your soul: listen to him and follow his inspirations with docility” (The Way, No. 57).

O.C.P.A.J.P.M.

DOMINE, QUID ME VIS FACERE?

The season of Lent is supposed to be one in which we intensify our struggle for sanctification, in accordance with the will of God: Haec est voluntas Dei, sanctificatio vestra, “This is the will of God, your sanctification. (1 Thes 4:3). This is also the Will of God at its most encompassing, at least from our standpoint. It is our highest “vocation”.

“Vocation” comes from the Latin, vocare, “to call”, related to voca, for “mouth”, and vox, for “voice”. The word is used, generally, in reference to God’s calling us to make those decisions or choices that have a radical, lifelong, or better, eternal, impact on our existence.

All men are called to holiness (sanctity), meaning, “union with God”—to live morally upright lives, to acquire all the virtues, to be perfect (Mt 5:48), which is possible because of God’s grace—and so to share in His eternal happiness (beatitude). This is the doctrine of the “universal call to holiness” which can be considered the “centerpiece” of the teachings of the Second Vatican Council. It is also the doctrine preached by St. Josemaria since 1928, when (and for which) he founded Opus Dei. An important corollary of this message is that, for the vast majority of ordinary people living in the middle of the world, the path to sanctity lies in the fulfillment of one’s ordinary duties, in the home, at work, in social life, by doing them well and out of love for God; that is, with human and supernatural perfection.

The call to holiness becomes more and more specific as one narrows the field: in the case of catholics, one could be part of the “clergy”, or of an order of “religious”, or of the “laity” (those who are neither clergy nor religious). In the case of lay people, which many of us are, the path to holiness consists in “engaging in temporal realities and ordering them according to God’s plan” (Lumen Gentium, No. 31). Many lay people are “called” to the “married state”, while some are not. Marriage is also a vocation. Our professional work is also a “vocation” not only in a general sense but also regarding one’s particular job, to the extent that it may involve a radical, life-determining choice.

Sanctification also means growing in the supernatural virtue of charity—loving God above all else for His own sake and our neighbor as ourself for love of God—which, in turn, translates into loving the will of God.

Loving the will of God consists, actively, in fulfilling “the duty of each moment” (The Way, No. 815) and, passively, in “abandonment”: “The wholehearted acceptance of the will of God is the sure way of finding joy and peace: happiness in the cross. It’s then we realize that Christ’s yoke is sweet and his burden is not heavy” (The Way, No. 758). “’Gaudium cum pace’—‘joy with peace’—the unfailing and savory fruit of abandonment" (The Way, No. 768).

Perhaps, since we are all really very little, we shall be called to passive abandonment more often than to the bustle of activity. Indeed, God does not ask much from each of us (just everything we have); and that is why the Decalogue is couched, for the most part, in “negative” terms (“thou shalt not”): the minimum of doing good is not doing wrong. Still, avoiding evil and doing good, passive abandonment and active involvement in God’s plans, both call up “deeds” (the action of our free will) without which there is no love. “There is a story of a soul who, on saying to our Lord in prayer, 'Jesus, I love you’, heard this reply from heaven: ‘Deeds are love—not sweet words.’” (The Way, No. 933). Our Lord Himself said: “If you love me, you will keep my commandments.” (Jn 14:15). “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven.” (Mt 7:21).

We should be sensitive and docile to the Will of God. Like St. Paul, let us ask our Lord often, Domine, quid me vis facere?, “Lord, what do you want me to do?” (Acts 9:6 [Confraternity Version]) or Quid faciam, Domine?, “What shall I do, Lord?” (Acts 22:10). And, as soon as we ascertain what God wants, let us be like the Blessed Virgin in promptly making it our own: Ecce ancilla Domini, fiat mihi secundum verbum tuum, “Behold, the handmaid of the Lord, be it done to me according to your word.” (Lk 1:38).

Mary’s fiat is the most momentous “yes” of a creature to the Will of God: the Redemption depended on it. And when Mary figured out that God wanted her to visit and assist her cousin Elizabeth—several days’ journey away—who was about to give birth, the Blessed Virgin went cum festinatione, “with haste” (Lk 1:39).

Most important, the Redemption was accomplished through the obedience of the God-man—Christ was “obedient to death, even to death on a cross” (Phil 2:8)—to the Will of the Father: “For just as by the disobedience of the one man (Adam) the many were constituted sinners, so also by the obedience of the one (Christ) the many will be constituted just” (Rom 5:19).

St. Josemaria writes: “Many great things depend—don’t forget it—on whether you and I live our lives as God wants.” (The Way, No. 755)

O.C.P.A.J.P.M.

ITE AD JOSEPH

The most popular or familiar scriptural reference to St. Joseph could be that found in the Gospel of St. Matthew, in which the husband of Mary is described as vir justus, “a just man” (Mt 1:19), meaning he had all the virtues. But there is a line in the Old Testament referring to the Joseph sold into slavery by his brothers, and who became ruler of Egypt (second to the Pharaoh), which can be taken as an invitation to have recourse to Joseph of Nazareth: Ite ad Joseph, “Go to Joseph”.

Ite ad Joseph et, quidquid vobis dixerit, facite, “Go to Joseph; what he says to you, do” (Gen 41:55). These are the words spoken by Pharaoh to the people who cried for food when famine gripped Egypt and the neighboring lands.

Like the Old Testament patriarch, the husband of Mary also had a “Jacob” for his father: “And Jacob begot Joseph, the husband of Mary, and of her was born Jesus who is called Christ” (Mt 1:16). Like Joseph who took care of the nation of Israel during the years of famine, Joseph of Nazareth is Patron of the Universal Church, the people of God. We would do well indeed always to “go to Joseph”, who is “the Master of the interior life” (The Forge, No. 554)—he worked facing God, his life spent contemplating Jesus in an intimate personal relationship—but even more in times of trouble or of our own spiritual dryness or darkness and crises.

Joseph of Nazareth is an example of grace building on nature or, conversely, human freedom corresponding with grace:

“The Holy Family remained in Egypt until Herod’s death (cf. Mt 2:14). But when Herod was dead, behold, an angel appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt, saying, ‘Arise, and take the child and his mother, and go into the land of Israel, for those who sought the child’s life are dead’ (Mt 2:19). This is what Joseph did. In the different circumstances of his life, Saint Joseph never refuses to think, never neglects his responsibilities. On the contrary, he puts his human experience at the service of the faith. When he returns from Egypt, ‘learning that Archelaus had succeeded his father Herod as ruler of Judaea, he was afraid to go there’ (Mt 2:22). In other words, he had learned to work within the divine plan.” (F. Fernandez, In Conversation with God, Vol. 6, No. 24.2; quoting St. Josemaria Escriva, Christ is passing by, No. 42)

“What is crucially important here is the sanctification of daily life, a sanctification which each person must acquire according to his or her own state, and one which can be promoted according to a model accessible to all people:

“‘Saint Joseph is the model of those humble ones that Christianity raises up to great destinies…he is the proof that in order to be a good and genuine follower of Christ, there is no need of great things—it is enough to have the common, simple and human virtues, but they need to be true and authentic’ [Paul VI, Address, 19 March 1969]” (F. Fernandez, op. cit., Vol. 6, No. 21.3; quoting John Paul II, Apostolic Exhortation, Redemptoris custos, 15 August 1989, No. 24).

“There are many good reasons to honor St. Joseph and to learn from his life. He was a man of strong faith. He earned a living for his family—Jesus and Mary—with his own hard work. He guarded the purity of the Blessed Virgin, who was his Spouse. And he respected—he loved!—God’s freedom, when God made his choice: not only his choice of Our Lady the Virgin as his Mother, but also his choice of St. Joseph as the Husband of Holy Mary” (The Forge, No. 552).

“Painters have traditonally depicted Joseph as an elderly man in order to emphasize the perpetual virginity of Mary. Yet it is more likely that Joseph was not much older than his wife. You don’t have to wait to be old or lifeless to practise the virtue of chastity. Purity comes from love; and the strength and joy of youth are no obstacle to a noble love. Joseph had a young heart and a young body when he married Mary, when he learned of the mystery of her divine motherhood, when he lived in her company respecting the integrity God wished to give the world as one more sign that he had come to share the life of his creatures.” (F. Fernandez, op. cit., Vol. 6, No. 22.2; quoting St. Josemaria Escriva, Christ is passing by, No. 40).

While it is from Mary that our Lord Jesus Christ takes the substance of His Sacred Humanity, much of the formal (and legal), and somehow, essential, aspect of Jesus’ identity comes from Joseph.

Our Lord was known as the son of Joseph: “Is not this the carpenter’s son?” (Mt 13:55); “Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary?” (Mk 6:3); “Is not this Joseph’s son?” (Lk 4:22). It is through Joseph, “because he was of the house and family of David” (Lk 2:4), that the promise of the Messiah as a descendant of King David is fulfilled.

Let us always go to Joseph: “St. Joseph, our father and lord: most chaste, most pure. You were found worthy to carry the Child Jesus in your arms, to wash him, to hug him. Teach us to get to know God, and to be pure, worthy of being other Christs.” (The Forge, No. 553)

O.C.P.A.J.P.M.

VIDERE PETRUM

The February 22 Feast of the Chair of Saint Peter is a celebration of the Church’s “unity”, and the “authority” that helps sustain it. Despite the so-called “Reformation” of the 16th century, which was essentially a rebellion against that authority (and precisely wounding that unity, resulting in the separation of many), the Church remains One, and the office of Peter is a sign (and instrument) of this unity.

The Church is human society elevated to the supernatural dimension; a reality that belongs to the order of grace and to the natural order, which are somehow parallel. Because it is human as well as God’s—in the world as well as transcending time and the material universe—whatever “goods” may be essential to the human community—“civil” society (from the Latin, civitas, “city”) or the State, the “political” community (from the Greek, polis)—would also be proper (even if, at times, only by analogy) to the Church.

Human society is, essentially, the “union of wills” (formal cause) of “individuals through their families” (material cause). It is directly brought into existence and sustained by the human drive towards association with one’s fellowmen—love—or, more properly, “solidarity” (efficient cause); and for the ultimate purpose of achieving the “common good” (final cause or “end” of society).

The “union of wills” which is the form of society can only find expression as a single will; hence, the need for a “political authority”. Parenthetically, the primary objective of the political authority—of government—is to ensure the reign of justice; and that is because “justice”, the minimum of love or solidarity, is what brings and maintains society in existence; hence, of primordial importance to the community. Justice (giving everyone his due) is the “manageable” aspect of the “efficient cause” of society; and as St. Augustine puts it, “a State which is not governed according to justice would be just a bunch of thieves” (De Civitate Dei, IV, 4; quoted in Pope Benedict XVI, Encyclical Letter Deus Caritas Est, 28). Love cannot be a matter of compulsion; but its minimum, justice, can be imposed coercively, through none other than “law” (rule-making, execution and dispute-resolution), which is, in fact, how the political authority operates.

Just as human society naturally requires “authority” and “law”, so does the Church, the people of God; hence, the “hierarchy” (Greek, hieros, “sacred”, and archos, “ruler”). Indeed, “grace builds on nature and brings it to fulfillment” (Pope John Paul II, Fides et Ratio, 43; paraphrasing St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, I, 1, 8 ad 2: “cum enim gratia non tollat naturam sed perficiat”), not the least because God assumed human nature— “the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us” (Jn 1:14).

The institution of a “structure of government” (hierarchy) in the Church is evident from the call of the Twelve Apostles (despite their human defects), with the power and duty to appoint their successors (“succession” for “continuity”), our Bishops, as in the election of Matthias to replace Judas the Betrayer (Acts 1:15ff); and their appointment of Deacons (Acts 6:1-7). Among the Twelve, Peter (and his successor, the Pope) is clearly “first”.

Our Lord was clear about Peter’s primacy: “You are Peter and upon this rock I will build my church” (Mt 16:18). Anti-catholic propaganda would insist that the Greek words used for Peter (Petrus, stone) and the Rock (Petra, rock) refer to different things. But the theory that “rock” does not refer to Peter would render the passage meaningless, especially in light of the succeeding verse: “I will give you the keys to the kingdom of heaven. Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven; and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.” Our Lord would have spoken not Greek but Aramaic which had only one word for rock: Kephas.

Before the Last Supper, our Lord also singled out Peter: “Simon, Simon, behold Satan has demanded to sift all of you like wheat, but I have prayed that your own faith may not fail; and once you have turned back, you must strengthen your brothers” (Lk 22:31). After the Resurrection, our Lord again singled out Peter with the thrice-repeated commission, “Feed my sheep” (Jn 21:15-23).

Peter was aware of his primacy: he spoke for the Twelve whenever their collective stand was needed. When our Lord asked, “Who do you say I am,” Peter replied, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God” (Mt 16:13-16; Mk 8:27-29; Lk 9:18-20). After Jesus’ Bread of Life Discourse (Jn 6:22ff), when many left because they could not accept that “unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man, and drink his blood, you shall not have life in you” [Jn 6:54], and our Lord asked, “Do you also wish to go away,” Peter answered: “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life” (Jn 6:68ff).

Peter played a leading role in the primitive Church. He directed the election of Judas’ replacement (Acts 1:15ff); he spoke to the crowd on Pentecost (2:14ff), giving his audience the requirements for their salvation (2:38, “Repent and be baptized”); he performed the first miracles of the Apostles (3:1ff). Peter’s primacy is, of course, not so much as “master” but as servant—“servant of the servants of God,” servus servorum Dei.

From the beginning, the Church was also aware of Peter’s primacy. While Peter was in prison (at Herod’s orders) in Jerusalem, “prayer was being made to God for him by the Church without ceasing” (Acts 12:1-5). St. Paul himself acknowledged Peter’s primacy by going to Jerusalem “to see Peter”, videre Petrum (Gal 1:18). Every listing of the Apostles has Peter as first (Mt 10:2-4; Mk 3:14-19: Lk 6:13-16; Acts 1:13).

It was Peter’s boat (also an image of the Church) that our Lord chose, from which he taught the crowds (Lk 5:3). Like Noah’s Ark, Peter’s boat, the Church, is the vessel in which we are saved and shall reach our final destination.

St. Josemaria writes: “Catholic, apostolic, Roman! I want you to be very Roman, ever anxious to make your ‘pilgrimage’ to Rome ‘videre Petrum’—‘to see Peter’” (The Way, No. 520).

O.C.P.A.J.P.M.

THE DETACHMENT OF A CHRISTIAN

“Detachment” is one of the more important virtues in our struggle for sanctification—not, perhaps, by itself, but because its opposite, “attachment”, lies at the very essence of sin. “Sin”, following a definition given by St. Augustine, is a “turning away from God”, aversio a Deo, and “turning towards creatures”, conversio ad creaturas (Belmonte, ed., Faith Seeking Understanding, Vol. 2, p. 67). Sin is our inordinate attachment towards creatures.

In terms of its ultimate causes, the “form” or “formal cause” of “sin” (what gives “sin” its “act of being” as such) is one’s “turning away from God”; while the “matter” or “material cause” (what gives it the potency or capacity to become what it is) is his “turning towards creatures”. Thus, the “essence” or “mode of being” of sin (always, the combination of “form” and “matter”) is our “turning away from God” and “turning towards creatures”. This also explains why “the end never justifies the means”: an act that is “intrinsically evil”, i.e., “incapable of being ordered to God” (cf. Pope John Paul II, Encyclical Letter Veritatis Splendor, No. 80), would already, in itself, involve a turning away from God, the ultimate and highest good; hence, could not be justified by any intermediate intended good. On the other hand, every turning away from God involves placing a creature—the self, the world, or the devil—above the Creator. Every running away from God involves running into something infinitely less, a loss, an unworthy enslavement for man.

Even from a human perspective, detachment is a virtue that makes a person attractive. The manly traits listed in Rudyard Kipling’s poem, “If”, can almost all be reduced to detachment: “…If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;/ If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;/ If you can meet with triumph and disaster/ And treat those two impostors just the same;/…If you can make one heap of all your winnings/ And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,/ And lose and start again at your beginnings,/ And never breathe a word about your loss;/…If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue/ Or walk with kings—nor lose the common touch;/ If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;/ If all men count with you, but none too much…”

All this is not to say that creatures are not to be loved. All creation—all existence, all being—is good; and therefore, lovable. God created everything, and “God saw that all that he had made was very good” (Gen 1:31); and it is an internal contradiction—a logical absurdity—to think of God, Goodness Himself, as causing “evil” to come into existence. Indeed, evil must be non-being. Metaphysically, “evil” is simply the absence of a good that should be there. Thus, strictly speaking, there is no “evil” in the physical order: animals, plants and things follow the natural course which inexorably bring them to their proper end. Evil entered the universe through the choices of creatures endowed with “freedom”, the angels and man. Because we are free, we could turn away from our proper end, and trigger a chain of causation (more disorder). Of course, God created us free not so we could turn away from our end, but so that we could “direct ourselves” (freely) towards Him.

Because “sin” is materially-caused by our inordinate attachment towards creatures, we need to be detached from these (including ourselves)—loving them (in the proper order: some more than others), but also ready and willing to discard or let go of them when these become obstacles to reaching our union with God. We need to love the “world”—the term embraces all authentic natural, human and material reality—yes, even “passionately”, as St. Josemaria would put it, but with a supernatural outlook. Detachment means, for the ordinary Christian, being very much “in” the world but not “of” the world (Jn 17:14-18).

The very first beatitude—“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Mt 5:2)—demands detachment from material possessions. This does not necessarily mean having to do without things, but to treat them properly, as intermediate goods that are of relative value; secondary or, better, contributory, to attaining our ultimate good.

The same principle applies to other “goods”: power, fame, our job, and also our fellowmen. That is why “charity” should be understood as “loving God above all (his creatures) for his own sake, and loving our neighbor as ourself for the love of God”. We cannot “idolize” people, or even put too much importance to what they want, think or say. That is the defect of “human respect”, doing things to please men rather than God (cf. Acts 5:29).

The human heart was meant to love, but the proper end of that love is God alone. If we do not commit ourselves to loving God above all things, we will wind up enslaved by false, disordered attachments to all sorts of lesser things.

Beyond mere stoicism or a “self-emptying” mindlessnes, Christian detachment means placing our natural attraction to creatures at the service of a supernatural desire for God. Commonsensically, this means avoiding whatever may lead us away from God; and, conversely, drawing closer to the Blessed Virgin Mary, to persons and things that lead us to God.

O.C.P.A.J.P.M.

BEGINNING AGAIN WITH MARY

Existence in time is cyclical: geophysically, the earth rotates on its axis, the sun rises and sets each day; the earth completes its orbit of the sun every 365/6 days, and we begin another year. Morally, we stumble and fall, and rise and begin again, many times each day; but these cycles of falling, rising and beginning again, should spiral and bring each one higher, and closer, each time, to that definitive union with God which is our end, the ultimate purpose of human existence, the meaning of our life.

On the First of January, the beginning of each year, the Church celebrates the Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God, because, for our weak and wounded human nature (such infants!), there is no better way to begin—to start again on the path to sanctity—than by gazing lovingly at our Lady. Like the star that led the Magi from the East to the Child (Mt 2:1-11), Mary is the guiding star that should lead us to her Son. She is the sure sign that we are on the right path, that we are going to Jesus. “Therefore the Lord himself will give you this sign: the virgin shall be with child and bear a son, and shall name him Emmanuel” (Is 7:14), “… ‘God with us.’” (Mt 1:23). “(The shepherds) went with haste, and they found Mary and Joseph, and the babe lying in the manger” (Lk 2:16). We know it is the Lord Jesus whom we are seeking, and not any other, through Mary, His mother; and it is this being mother of God that constitutes Mary’s greatest honor, the source of all her other privileges, the foundation of her identity.

Mary is Mother of God because Jesus Christ is the Emmanuel, “God with us”, “perfect God and perfect man” (Athanasian Creed); the two natures—Divine and Human—united in the One Person of our Lord. Mary is the mother of the Person of our Lord.

In his Gospel, St. John tells us: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God; and the Word was God” (Jn 1:1). Jesus is the Word, the Father’s knowledge—“mental image” or reflection—of Himself. This mental image necessarily corresponds perfectly with the reality it reflects, because God’s knowledge cannot be less than perfect; hence, this Word is God, the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity, co-eternal with the Father but, in time, became man, born of the Virgin Mary. “And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us” (Jn 1:14); and from then on, the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity will forever be the union of the Divine and Human—our Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God and Son of Mary—thus enabling all mankind, by incorporation in Him, to become children of God; to participate in the Life and Love of the Blessed Trinity.

If we are children of God in Christ—members of Christ’s body (cf. 1 Cor 6:15)—which we are by grace, then we are indisputably also children of Mary. Our Lord meant it in a real sense when He gave John (the Apostle and Evangelist) to the Blessed Virgin Mary, “Woman, behold, thy son”, and she to John, “Behold, thy mother” (Jn 19:26-27).

How is it possible to love God and not love His mother who is also our mother? And yet, there are some who claim to be Christians but who would recoil before a picture of the Blessed Virgin Mary, as if it were something to abhor. Since our sanctification also hinges on our imitating Christ in His Sacred Humanity, we should want to be close to Mary, to keep her in mind constantly, using any and all human devices (pictures, objects) to remind us of her. We could never go wrong by excess in our love for Mary because we will never be able to equal—much less exceed—the love which the Perfect Man has for His Perfect Mother.

Having been given Mary to be his mother, John recalls: “And from that hour the disciple took her into his home” (Jn 19:27)—which, parenthetically, argues against the possibility of our Lord having natural siblings (who should otherwise take care of Mary), and supports the dogma of Mary’s perpetual virginity.

It was precisely because John was with the Blessed Virgin (which, in turn, is proof of our Lord’s predilection for this beloved disciple) that he was able, in the first place, to remain at the foot of the Cross (unlike the rest of the apostles). It was also because of this closeness to Mary that John could reach such theological heights as to be traditionally represented by the “eagle” (one of the “four living creatures” in the Apocalypse [4:7] associated with the Evangelists: Matthew is the “man”, because he begins with the names of people, the genealogy of our Lord; Mark, the “lion”, because he begins with John the Baptist in the wilderness; and Luke, the “ox”, because he opens with Zachary, father of the Baptist, a priest whose main function is to offer sacrifice, the ox being an animal of sacrifice). It is John who transmits to us the “new commandment” of love; tells us, “God is love” (1 Jn 4:8,16); and gives us our Lord’s most comprehensive discourse on the Eucharist (Jn 6).

St. Josemaria writes: “(John) brought Mary into his home, into his life. Spiritual writers have seen these words of the Gospel as an invitation to all Christians to bring Mary into their lives” (Christ is Passing By, No. 140). May we, indeed, live the year that is beginning as true daughters and sons and Mary.

O.C.P.A.J.P.M.

THE SEASON OF ADVENT

“Advent has a twofold character: as a season to prepare for Christmas when Christ’s first coming to us is remembered; as a season when that remembrance directs the mind and heart to await Christ’s Second Coming at the end of time. Advent is thus a period for devout and joyful expectation” (General Norms for the Liturgical Year and the Calendar).

The four weeks of Advent should then be for each of us a time of preparation to ensure that this Christmas will not find the Holy Family out in the cold—“because there was no room for them in the inn” (Lk 2:7)—without room in our heart; because it is filled with ourself, because it is tied to creatures in disregard of the Creator. Like the season of Lent, Advent must also be a time for raising the level of our life of prayer, penance (mortification) and almsgiving (good works)—which explains why both seasons share the same liturgical color (violet)—to cure our so-called “three-fold concupiscence” which is, as St. John the Apostle writes, “the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life” (1 Jn 2:16).

The effort to rid ourselves of our three-fold conscupiscence is another way of expressing the lifelong struggle towards sanctification, which is not “optional” in the sense that we can afford to choose not to take it, because the alternative is not to be united with God in eternity—to be separated forever from God Who alone can satisfy the deepest yearnings of our being—which is eternal misery or hell.

We will not enjoy union with God in eternity if we did not learn to be united with God in this life, which means to grow in our knowing God (with the intelligence enlightened by faith), loving God (with our human freedom aided by God’s grace), and serving God with all our being (fulfilling God’s Will with all our strength, all our passions, all our possessions, all our relations and dealings). This is incompatible with “lust of the flesh”: a “bourgeois” (“townsman” and, therefore, “comfortable”) existence; love of comfort and abhorrence of pain and suffering, and the liberal, modernist, materialistic and earthbound philosophies that absolutize these. Sanctification is also incompatible with “lust of the eyes”: avarice, the inordinate desire to possess, or attachment to worldly things. Most of all, sanctification is incompatible with “pride of life”: an attitude of self-sufficiency that excludes God from one’s existence and plans.

St. Josemaria writes:

“You and I belong to Christ's family, for 'he himself has chosen us before the foundation of the world, to be saints, to be blameless in his sight, for love of him, having predestined us to be his adopted children through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of his Will'. We have been chosen gratuitously by Our Lord. His choice of us sets us a clear goal. Our goal is personal sanctity, as St Paul insistently reminds us, haec est voluntas Dei: sanctificatio vestra, 'this is the Will of God: your sanctification'. Let us not forget, then, that we are in our Master's sheepfold in order to achieve that goal….The goal that I am putting before you, or rather that God has marked out for us all, is no illusory or unattainable ideal. I could quote you many specific examples of ordinary men and women, just like you and me, who have met Jesus passing by quasi in occulto, at what appeared to be quite ordinary cross-roads in their lives, and have decided to follow him, lovingly embracing their daily cross. In this age of ours, an age of generalised decay, of compromise and discouragement, and also of licence and anarchy, I think it is more important than ever to hold on to that simple yet profound conviction which I had when I began my priestly work and have held ever since, and which has given me a burning desire to tell all mankind that 'these world crises are crises of saints'….Interior life. We need it, if we are to answer the call that the Master has made to each and every one of us. We have to become saints, as they say in my part of the world, 'down to the last whisker,' Christians who are truly and genuinely such, the kind that could be canonised. If not, we shall have failed as disciples of the one and only Master. And don't forget that when God marks us out and gives us his grace to strive for sanctity in the everyday world, he also puts us under an obligation to do apostolate. I want you to realise that, even looking at things humanly, concern for souls follows naturally from the fact that God has chosen us. As one of the Fathers of the Church points out, 'When you discover that something has been of benefit to you, you want to tell others about it. In the same way, you should want others to accompany you along the ways of the Lord. If you are going to the forum or the baths and you run into someone with time on his hands, you invite him to go with you. Apply this human behaviour to the spiritual realm and, when you go towards God, do not go alone.'” (Friends of God, Nos. 2-5)

It is fitting that the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception falls within the season of Advent. Mary’s perfection demonstrates the possibility of real union with God by God’s grace and our free cooperation. While she was never contaminated by our three-fold concupiscence, Mary was still free (all the more so!), with that human freedom by which Adam and Eve turned away from God; but which, in Mary’s case, with her Fiat, made possible the Redemption of mankind.

O.C.P.A.J.P.M.

DEATH, OUR CROSSOVER TO ETERNITY

Whether we like it or not, whether we realize it or not, we will all die. But death is not only the separation of our spiritual soul from our material body; it is also our crossover from time to eternity.

Of course, Sacred Scripture refers to certain characters who appear not to have died: “Enoch walked with God, and he was no longer here, for God took him” (Gen 5:24). “Elijah went up to heaven in a whirlwind” (2 Kings 2:11). Yet it is not entirely clear whether they in fact escaped death. In the case of the Blessed Virgin Mary, while Catholic dogma refers to her Assumption, “body and soul”, into heaven, we are free to speculate, as the Eastern Church holds, that, since death is the separation of body and soul, the Blessed Virgin did not die; she only fell asleep (Dormition). But the Blessed Virgin Mary is the only created human person exempt from original sin because of her unique role as Mother of God.

For the rest of us, we can expect that death will certainly arrive. It is a truth of our human nature as spiritual soul in a material body. Our bodies are composed of “matter”. Since all matter tends towards dis-integration, our bodies will dis-integrate and, therefore, will be separated from our spiritual souls. It is usually a wrenching, agonizing process because soul and body are so intimately united in man. Adam and Eve would have been exempt from death if they had not sinned, but that is because of the preternatural gift of immortality which they enjoyed while in the original state of friendship with God. The fall of our first parents resulted in the loss of these gifts, not only for them but also for us who inherit that “wounded” nature of Adam and Eve.

Since the human soul is a spiritual substance, it is not subject to disintegration or decay; it will continue to exist in eternity. Our greatest personal concern, therefore, should be what would happen to our soul in eternity. Life in time is the preparation for eternity. Time is where our free choices should direct our whole being towards our ultimate end, God. At the moment of death, the time of choosing ends; our soul will find itself in eternity. The state which it is in at this moment of death, whether for or against God, will be the state of that soul in eternity.

We often think of eternity as an endless continuum (infinity), “forever and ever”, which is valid as it refers to the absence of a point of beginning or end. But more precisely, eternity is simply timelessness. It is a dimension we can only vaguely comprehend because we live in time, i.e., in a universe that is in constant motion or constant change.

Time is an expression and measure of change. Our life in time is where we can change, where we can even vacillate between being for or against God. Eternity, on the other hand, is the immutability of God. It is also a mystery how God’s immutability accomodates human history and our existence in time. But we must hope that, at the moment we leave time and enter into eternity, our choices would have firmly oriented us for that definitive union with God in His eternal happiness—the “one thing necessary” (cf. Lk 10:41)—which is our perfection, holiness, sanctity, beatitude. Failing this, our lives would have been worse than meaningless, because we would then be (self-) condemned to eternal misery. We must constantly ask God to make our time on earth spatium verae paenitentiae, a time for true conversion. St. Josemaria writes: “Time is our treasure, the money with which to buy eternity” (Furrow, No. 882).

Since death is an event certain to happen, we would be very foolish not to prepare for it; that is, in terms of making sure that our time on earth is a continuing growth in knowing, loving and serving God. We do not know when (or how) death will come, nor what trials will test our love for God at that last moment in time; hence, the need to be constantly on guard, in constant training.

We all have a tendency to avoid thinking of death, especially our own, and therefore to omit preparing for it; but the thought of death should make us more conscious of the value of time—tempus breve est, “time is short” (1 Cor 7:29), as St. Paul reminds us—and therefore more prudent in the use of our time. Beyond merely avoiding sin, we need to sanctify our time on earth; generally, by living in the presence of God, converting all our ordinary activities into prayer; and, specifically, by applying ourselves to the fulfillment of the particular vocation we have received from God and fulfilling the duty of each moment. We will not waste our time pursuing goals which, although they may be good in themselves, are not in keeping with our specific vocation.

The thought of death can be terrifying and depressing; but not if placed in the context of our Christian faith. It is lack of faith that drives people to panic, to do anything just to cling on for a little more time to this world. For Christians, death is the passage into eternal happiness, to join all the saints who have gone before, especially St. Joseph, vir justus, the "just man" (Mt 1:19), who died in the loving presence of our Lord and our Lady, and who is therefore the patron saint, model and intercessor for a happy death. We also have recourse to the Blessed Virgin Mary, Ianua Caeli, Gate of Heaven, who will ensure that we do get to enter into the Kingdom of her Son.

O.C.P.A.J.P.M.

THERE ARE NO UNWANTED PREGNANCIES

Yesterday, October 2, was the feast of the Guardian Angels. The Gospel for the Mass tells us: “…And Jesus called a little child to him, set him in their midst, and said, ‘Amen I say to you, unless you turn and become like little children, you will not enter into the kingdom of heaven. Whoever, therefore, humbles himself as this little child, he is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever receives one such little child for my sake, receives me…. See that you do not despise one of these little ones; for I tell you, their angels in heaven always behold the face of my Father in heaven.” (Mt 18: 1-5.10; italics ours)

While the Gospel reading teaches the existence of angels assigned to watch over and assist each of us, one cannot help but relate it with the present controversy involving the population-control bills in congress: The Gospel passage also says that, in God’s eyes—and so should be, too, in the eyes of His faithful—there are no unwanted pregnancies. “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you” (Jer 1:5).

At the heart of the “contraceptive mentality” is the assumption that some pregnancies—or more accurately, that most pregnancies, especially among the many “poor”—are not or should not be wanted. The assumption is often presented as justified by considerations of the health of the mother and the economic well-being of the family. But this involves the implied premise that people have a right to an irresponsible enjoyment of the human sexual faculty; i.e., using the human reproductive power while rejecting its end.

Unlike the physical laws of nature, which man could legitimately tamper with and transcend by his creativity, the moral law (which governs the rational, voluntary acts of the human person) must be obeyed. If one were to enjoy the human sexual power so clearly intended by the moral law for procreation (as well as the union of the spouses), one ought at least to be open to this end. It should not be difficult to see (unless one were corrupted by extrinsic consideration) that the choice or decision not to get pregnant means not to have sex during the wife’s fertile period; and that, as the Church teaches, contraceptive sex—like divorce, homosexual intercourse, and masturbation—is objectively morally wrong. The contrary proposition translates into “free love”, i.e., sex without restraints.

Furthermore, while economics may appear to provide a valid basis for not having children, the validity is only apparent; not the least because “the economic situation” is, in fact, ephemeral (at times, even illusory).

How much income would “justify” how many children, and who can be the final arbiter of that? Today’s manager earning a six-digit figure monthly could tomorrow be jobless, diagnosed with cancer, or even dead of a heart attack. Conversely, there is nothing inherently impossible in the rags-to-riches stories that abound precisely because they carry an element of realism. It is logical fallacy to draw a direct proportion between income (transitory) and number of children (persons with eternal destiny). The State has no legitimate authority to mislead the “poor” (with propaganda or other inducements, using tax money) not to reproduce. “Responsible parenthood” consists not in having few or no children, but in the efforts of parents to raise those whom God has given them.

The whole notion of unwanted pregnancies also raises the question of “when” human life begins: It would be alright for a pregnancy to be unwanted if what the mother is carrying in her womb were not “human life”; because few could deny that “all human life is good in itself”, regardless of circumstances (hence, the Fifth Commandment of the Decalogue, “Thou shalt not kill”). Thus, contraceptives-pushers would assert that human life begins at “implantation” (notwithstanding that Section 12, Article II of the Philippine Constitution says “from conception”, i.e., when ovum is fertilized by spermatozoon), to cover up the terrible truth that certain “contraceptive” methods—such as the insertion of an IUD (Intra-Uterine Device), which prevents the implantation of the zygote (fertilized ovum) in the lining of the womb thereby killing the human life that has been conceived—are actually “abortifacients”.

Indeed, the beginning of life can be confused with “legal personality” (arising from the fact of “birth”), and “legal capacity” (acquired on reaching the “legal age”), which are different concepts in law. On the other hand, the moral norm requiring respect for human life (Thou shalt not kill) applies from its beginning, the moment of conception—because, from then on, what exists is distinct from the mother (it comes from the father as well); it is living (growing), and is certainly human (not any other animal). If there were room for honest doubt on this, the Church removes that (at least for catholics, for whom ignorance cannot be an excuse) by its teaching: “Human life must be respected and protected absolutely from the moment of conception” (CCC, No. 2270).

Contrary to the stance of population-control advocates, the Church “forces” no one to adhere to its teachings: We are free; but our choices have consequences in objective reality, the most important dimension of which is eternity. So, watch out, cafeteria catholics.

O.C.P.A.J.P.M.

RECALLING THE CALL TO HOLINESS

Human life is holy because from its beginning up to its end—from conception to resurrection and eternity (the expression, “from womb to tomb”, implies that communion ends with the grave; pro tanto, it is not of the Catholic faith)—every human life belongs to God in a direct way.

Human life belongs to God from its beginning because every human person is directly created by God, Who “breathed into his nostrils the breath of life” (Gen 2:7)—the human spiritual soul—at the moment of conception. While the parents cooperate with God through the marital act (and subsequently, in the rearing and education of the child), the spiritual soul—precisely because it is “spiritual”, i.e., transcending material reality—comes directly from God; it cannot come from mere matter or only from the biological process. Thus, the “efficient cause” of every human existence is the direct, creative action of God, with the cooperation of the parents. Theories of Evolution would not explain man’s spiritual soul, since what is spiritual (the nobler or greater) could not possibly evolve from matter (the lesser).

Human life is ordained to “union with God”—holiness, sanctity—as its “final cause” or ultimate end, because the human soul, being spiritual, has an eternal destiny (unlike material substances which ineluctably tend towards disintegration or decay); and because the principal powers of the human spiritual soul—the intelligence and free will—are ordained by nature to understand the truth and to choose (to love) the good, respectively, and can only be satisfied by union with the fullness of Truth and fullness of Good—the fullness of Being—God. Thus, St. Augustine writes: “(Lord,) You have made us for Yourself; and our hearts are restless until they rest in You.” (Confessions, 1,1)

Still, while man’s orientation towards God as ultimate end is natural, its fulfillment (union with God in eternity) is beyond human nature as such, and made possible only by a supernatural gift of empowerment—sanctifying grace—which Adam and Eve initially enjoyed but subsequently lost by their sin of disobedience (the “original sin” of man). This capacity was won back by our Lord Jesus Christ, and each of us has it by our incorporation (by Baptism) in the Son of God become Man. But while the Redemption has been accomplished once and for all in its objective dimension, its benefits have to be applied individually to each human person, including those to be born down the centuries until the end of time, who have to freely want it; hence, its subjective dimension, which makes redemption a continuing work.

Also, while we live in this world, seeing God only by Faith, our freedom makes us “changeable”. Our “temporality”—being in time—precisely implies changeability, because time is a measure of change. Thus, while on earth, we can lose sanctifying grace by our choices, i.e., of turning away from God knowingly and voluntarily in a serious matter.

Happily, sanctifying grace lost after Baptism may be recovered (through the Sacrament of Reconciliation). But the challenge for each one is not so much to maintain this state of grace, this incorporation in Christ, as to grow in it; or, better, to allow Christ to “increase”. As with John the Baptist, “He (Christ) must increase, but I must decrease,” Illum oportet crescere, me autem minui (Jn 3:30). Towards the end of our lives, as its culmination on earth, we should be able to say, with St. Paul, “It is now no longer I that live, but Christ lives in me,” Vivo autem iam non ego, sed Christus vivit in me vero (Gal 2:20). The capacity to become friends of God—or better, to grow as children of God in Christ—should be realized more and more as we advance on our earthly pilgrimage (towards the Promised Land of Heaven). What was planted as a seed at Baptism (most probably while we were infants) should grow as we mature humanly. St. Josemaria writes: “Conversion is a matter of a moment. Sanctification is the work of a lifetime” (The Way, No. 285).

Sacred Scripture proclaims this call for each of us to grow in holiness, in union with God: “You must therefore be holy, for I am holy” (Lev 11:44-45). “This is the will of God, your sanctification,” Haec est voluntas Dei, sanctificatio vestra (1 Th 4:3). “You, therefore, must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect” (Mt 5:48). This was a truth known and lived by the first Christians. Yet, after the fall of the Roman Empire and the onset of the Dark Ages, obviously because of the collapse of law and order, the near eradication of classical culture in favor of the customs of barbarian tribes, and what may have been the near-impossibility of living the human and Christian virtues in the world, “sanctity” came to be seen as attainable only by renouncing the world; as something not for everyone, much less for the ordinary lay Christian.

From 1928 onwards, St. Josemaria taught that all men are called to be holy; and that, for the ordinary lay Christian, the path to holiness lies in fulfilling his ordinary duties “with human and supernatural perfection”, i.e., doing his everyday tasks as well as he can and for love of God and men. The doctrine of the “universal call to holiness” became the “centerpiece” of the teachings of the Second Vatican Council. In a homily on the occasion of the canonization of the Founder of Opus Dei in October 2002, Pope John Paul II dubbed St. Josemaria “the saint of the ordinary”.

O.C.P.A.J.P.M.

THE IMMORALITY OF CONTRACEPTIVE SEX

Today marks the fortieth anniversary of the encyclical Humanae Vitae (Of Human Life). Newspaper columnist John Nery nicely dubbed it “Pope Paul VI’s ardent, anguished love letter to an unchaste world” (Newsstand, “Worrying ‘Humanae Vitae’,” PDI 7/22/2008). Humanae Vitae is indeed addressed to the world (and 1968 was the heyday of the Pill, “free love” and hippie culture), not just the faithful, which probably accounts for its leaning towards “human reason”, rather than theology, in explaining the immorality of contraceptive sex.

The encyclical essentially teaches that the human sexual faculty is ordained by nature towards both procreation—the begetting and rearing of offspring—and the union of the spouses; that these “unitive meaning and procreative meaning” of the marital act are inseparable; and that the use of the human sexual faculty in denial of these ends is contrary to the natural moral law. Thus, contraception, i.e., “any action which either before, at the moment of, or after sexual intercourse, is specifically intended to prevent procreation—whether as an end or as a means” (HV, No. 14) is immoral. Incidentally, just to be clear, this includes “withdrawal” (coitus interruptus), the “sin of Onan” when he “spilled the semen on the ground, lest he should give offspring to his brother,” an act “displeasing in the sight of the Lord” for which Onan was slain (cf. Gen 38: 1-10).

On the other hand, the encyclical also teaches, “If there are well-grounded reasons for spacing births,” couples may “take advantage of the natural cycles immanent in the reproductive system and engage in marital intercourse only during those times that are infertile” (HV, No. 16) Mr. Nery rightly points out the difficulty in understanding the distinction between contraceptive sex and “recourse to the infertile period”. He asks: “If both the unitive and procreative dimensions inhere in the conjugal act, why should spouses perform the act during infertile periods?”

Perhaps the threshold issue and key to understanding the encyclical is the inseparability of the “unitive meaning and the procreative meaning” of the marital act. Why should the procreative purpose of sex be inseparable from its unitive purpose? Why can’t sex be solely for love or solely for procreation? The quick answer is: If sex were not for procreation, homosexual intercourse would be morally okay (as long as there is love between the partners), but it is not (Sodomy is explicitly condemned in both the Old and New Testaments); and the institution of an indissoluble marriage would be meaningless (since the indissolubility of marriage is a demand of the welfare of the offspring, of the procreative purpose), which cannot be the case (Divorce is prohibited in the Gospels). On the other hand, even if open to the possibility of offspring, sex without mutual love would be rape (or at least dehumanizing of both partners), which cannot be moral, either. Therefore, the marital act is ordained to both procreation and union.

It is not insignificant that societies drawn into a “contraceptive mentality” have also turned to “divorce” (breakdown of the marriage institution) and “same-sex unions”. The same philosophy underlying contraceptive sex would justify these phenomena.

An indissoluble marriage is necessary precisely because sex is intended by nature for procreation, which includes the upbringing and education of the offspring; and because human life, in its totality, is so fragile in its developing stages. The good upbringing and education of the human offspring requires a lasting partnership of the father and mother, i.e., lasting independently of their changeable preferences and circumstances. Thus, if sex is not for procreation, the institution of marriage would be meaningless.

It is because of the obvious procreative purpose of sex that even primitive cultures have some sort of marriage. The common good requires a social mechanism to ensure the welfare of the human offspring. Thus, to hold the conjugal act separable from its procreative purpose would justify contraceptive sex, but also divorce (no need for permanence in the partnership of the spouses) and homosexuality (no need for procreation), and so open the floodgates for the unwholesome scenarios arising from these (broken homes, juvenile delinquency, AIDS, etc.), not to mention the “demographic winter” (shrinking and aging populations) resulting from birth-control policies in those societies which had confused issues of social-justice, economics, etc., with supposed over-population.

Contraception is the removal of the procreative end from the sexual encounter by positive human action. On the other hand, sex during the infertile periods involves nothing of that sort: even if foreseen or availed of by the spouses, the impossibility of achieving the procreative purpose of the sexual encounter is “independent of their will”. Indeed, even during the fertile periods, “new life is not the result of each and every act of sexual intercourse.” (HV, No. 11) Thus, sex during the infertile period is morally good in so far as it serves the unitive purpose (alone) of marriage, since it is not by human intervention that the procreative purpose is removed from the sexual encounter. It helps also to consider that “recourse to the infertile period” is actually, essentially, abstention or the non-use of sex during the fertile periods, in which case there is no abuse (wrongful use) of the sexual faculty; hence, no moral disorder.

One last point. Much is often made of the idea of contraception as the only way to check population growth which supposedly condemns families to poverty. But this proposition unduly shifts the blame on the poor (for reproducing); whereas the causes of poverty lie elsewhere. Moreover, population control programs assume an authority to determine (by arbitrary, subjective criteria) who (or which economic classes, ethnic groups, or sectors) may multiply and who should eventually become extinct as a group. Christian social philosophy says the State has no such authority. To hold otherwise would justify China’s one-child policy, forced sterilization, even genocide/ethnic cleansing. Thus, it makes better sense to leave “the proper regulation of the propagation of offspring” to the right consciences of married couples, in accordance with the principle of subsidiarity; that is, without the undue influence of propaganda and other inducements or coercive measures, whether state-sponsored, foreign funded or financed by big business, and certainly without recourse to immoral acts.

O.C.P.A.J.P.M.

LOVE OF NEIGHBOR IS APOSTOLATE

“Apostolate,” from the Greek, apostolos, “one who is sent”, is almost synonymous with “Evangelization,” from eu-, “good”, and angelos, “messenger” (whence the Latin evangelium, "good news"). “Angels” and “Apostles” are all “sent”, but we use the first to refer to those servants of God who are purely spiritual creatures and the last to God’s “human” messengers (i.e., spiritual souls in material bodies). Often, “Apostles” specifically refers to the Twelve companions of our Lord and their successors, our Bishops.

Nowadays, “evangelization” is mostly used in the context of spreading the “Good News” (Old English, “good spell”), often taken to mean the Gospel proper (the four books of the “evangelists” Matthew, Mark, Luke and John), hence more likely to be the preferred term among non-Catholic, Bible-only Christians. On the other hand, in propagating the Catholic faith, which is certainly richer (because it is based on Sacred Scripture and Sacred Tradition, and makes demands on human conduct), the more common term would be “apostolate”.

In any event, “apostolate” means helping other people come closer to their “end”, their highest good, union with God. This is the greatest expression of love, the greatest service we can do, for our fellowmen. Thus, St. Josemaria writes: “Charity with everyone means, therefore, apostolate with everyone.” (Friends of God, 230)

The call to personal holiness is also a call to do apostolate. Just as love of God is inseparable from love of others, sanctity is inseparable from apostolate. Christian life, the path to eternal happiness, is one of ora et labora, contemplation and action, building our personal relationship with God and building the kingdom of God, grace and service, “communion and mission”, interior life and apostolate.

Indeed, God created us to know, love and serve Him, and so, to share in His eternal happiness. This is our end, the ultimate purpose of human existence, which is “holiness” (sanctity, perfection, beatitude) or union with God. Our life on earth is a journey towards this end; a constant struggle for sanctification. And while this holiness can only be definitively achieved in eternity, when we have left this temporal existence, it is a reality that we experience in this life to the extent that we are united with God in our dispositions, and most especially when we eat the Body of our Lord in the Holy Eucharist. Then we become one with Christ, Who is “perfect God and perfect man”, perfectus Deus, perfectus homo (Athanasian Creed).

The call to holiness is a call to become more and more like Christ, to imitate Christ, to be one with Christ, to become “other Christs, Christ Himself,” alter Christus, ipse Christus. Sanctification means, “He must increase; I must decrease” (Jn 3:30); so that, before time ends for each of us, we should be able to say with Saint Paul, “I live, no longer I, but Christ lives in me.” (Gal 2:20)

But to be one with Christ means obeying His commandments: “Remain in me, as I remain in you. Just as a branch cannot bear fruit on its own unless it remains on the vine, so neither can you unless you remain in me. I am the vine, you are the branches. Whoever remains in me and I in him will bear much fruit, because without me you can do nothing...Remain in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will remain in my love….This is my commandment: love one another as I love you.” (Jn 15:4-10)

The commandment to love one another “as I have loved you” is “a new commandment” (Jn 13:34) because it places love for others within the larger framework of love for God—as Christ loves us—and with a love, agape, that “seeks the good of the beloved” (Deus Caritas Est, No. 6). Thus, Christian charity must be understood precisely as “the theological virtue by which we love God above all things for his own sake, and our neighbor as ourselves for the love of God.” (CCC, No. 1822) The good of our neighbor, his eternal happiness, is his own union with God, which God wants. We know we love our neighbor when we want his eternal happiness: “in God and with God, I love even the person whom I do not like or even know.” (DCE, No. 18)

John Paul II teaches: “We return to the biblical image of the vine and the branches, which immediately and quite appropriately lends itself to a consideration of fruitfulness and life. Engrafted to the vine and brought to life, the branches are expected to bear fruit: ‘He who abides in me, and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit’ [Jn 15:5]. Bearing fruit is an essential demand of life in Christ and life in the Church. The person who does not bear fruit does not remain in communion: ‘Each branch of mine that bears no fruit, he (my Father) takes away’ [Jn 15: 2].” (Apostolic Exhortation Christifideles Laici, No. 32) The fruits demanded from each of us are those of love of God and neighbor, our interior life and apostolate.

The task of doing apostolate is always urgent. We do not know the exact time any person will die. And the greatest tragedy that can befall anyone is for him to leave this life without knowing and loving God, because such a soul can no longer be united with God forever; it is (self-) condemned to eternal misery. And since love of God and love of neighbor are really inseparable, our apostolic zeal is also a gauge of our interior life.

O.C.P.A.J.P.M.

THE SEASON OF EASTER

“I believe in Jesus Christ…He descended to the dead. On the third day, He rose again,” we recite in The Creed. The 50-day season of Easter is the commemoration of the fact of the Resurrection of our Lord. It is the greatest feast of Christendom because –

“The Resurrection of Jesus is the crowning truth of our faith in Christ, a faith believed and lived as the central truth by the first Christian community; handed on as fundamental by Tradition; established by the documents of the new Testament; and preached as an essential part of the Paschal mystery along with the cross” (CCC, No. 638)

“The truth of Jesus’ divinity is confirmed by his Resurrection.” (CCC, No. 653) Indeed, the Resurrection is the sign our Lord proffered when some asked for a sign (that He was the promised Messiah): “Then some of the scribes and Pharisees said to him, ‘Teacher, we wish to see a sign from you.’ He said to them in reply, ‘An evil and unfaithful generation seeks a sign, but no sign will be given it except the sign of Jonah the prophet. Just as Jonah was in the belly of the whale three days and three nights, so will the Son of Man be in the heart of the earth three days and three nights.’” (Mt 12:38-40)

Jonah “remained in the belly of the fish three days and three nights….Then the Lord commanded the fish to spew Jonah upon the shore”. (Jon 2:1-11)

Jesus “was teaching his disciples and telling them, ‘The Son of Man is to be handed over to men and they will kill him, and three days after his death he will rise’”. (Mk 9:30; cf. Mt 16:21; 17:22-23; 20:17-19; Mk 8:31; 10:32-34; Lk 9:22; 18:31)

The very difficulty of believing in the Resurrection argues in favor of Christianity: “Even when faced with the reality of the risen Jesus the disciples are still doubtful, so impossible did the thing seem: they thought they were seeing a ghost. ‘In their joy they were still disbelieving and still wondering.’ [Lk 24:38-41] Thomas will also experience the test of doubt and St. Matthew relates that during the risen Lord’s last appearance in Galilee ‘some doubted.’ [Cf. Jn 20:24-27; Mt 28:17] Therefore the hypothesis that the Resurrection was produced by the apostles’ faith (or credulity) will not hold up. On the contrary their faith in the Resurrection was born, under the action of divine grace, from their direct experience of the reality of the risen Jesus.” (CCC, No. 644)

But it is not only Christ’s Divinity that the Resurrection proves: “Christ rose from the dead to show that he is true God and to teach us that we, too, shall rise from the dead” (Fr. M. Guzman, Question and Answer Catholic Catechism, No. 122) “All human beings will rise from the dead but only those who have been faithful to Christ will share in his glory” (Id. No. 123) “Christ’s Resurrection—and the risen Christ himself—is the principle and source of our future resurrection: ‘Christ has been raised from the dead, the first fruits of those who have fallen asleep….For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall all be made alive.’ [1 Cor 15:20-22]” (CCC, No. 655)

“All the dead will rise, ‘those who have done good, to the resurrection of life, and those who have done evil, to the resurrection of judgment’ [Jn 5:29; cf. Dan 12:2]”. (CCC, No. 998) Thus, we also say in the Creed, “I believe…in the resurrection of the body”.

“But if Christ is preached as raised from the dead, how can some among you say there is no resurrection of the dead? If there is no resurrection of the dead, then neither has Christ been raised. And if Christ has not been raised, then empty is our preaching; empty, too, your faith.” (1 Cor 15:12-14)

One last point. The scripture accounts of the Resurrection would seem to indicate that our risen Lord was first seen by Mary Magdalene (Mt 28:1-10; Mk 16:9-11; Jn 20:1-18) as she was among the first to go to the tomb on the first day of the week, the day after the Sabbath. On the other hand –

“It is an ancient tradition of the Church that Jesus appeared first of all to his Mother in solitude. It could not have been otherwise because she is the first and principal co-redeemer of the human race, in perfect union with her son. Alone she would have been, since this appearance would be for a reason very different from the reason for the other appearances to the women and the disciples. He had to reassure and comfort them, and win them to him definitively in the faith. The Blessed Virgin…did not at any time cease to be in perfect union with the Blessed Trinity. Every last vestige of hope in the Resurrection of Jesus that remained on earth had been gathered into her heart….It is said that each year on this holy day [Easter Sunday] St. Thomas Aquinas counseled his hearers not to fail to congratulate the Blessed virgin on the Resurrection of her Son. And this is exactly what we do, beginning today, by reciting the Regina Coeli which will take the place of the Angelus during Eastertide.” (Fr. F. Fernandez, In Conversation with God, vol. 2, No. 47.3)

O.C.P.A.J.P.M.

PILATE’S QUESTION

In the narrative of the Passion of our Lord in the Gospel of St. John (which is read in the liturgy of Good Friday), there is a scene where Pontius Pilate asks Jesus the question, “What is truth?” Quid est veritas? (Jn 18:38) Unfortunately, in obvious bad faith—that is, without wanting to know the answer—Pilate turns away before our Lord could give a reply, thus depriving us of what would surely have been a perfect definition.

Still, since it is intolerable that such a fundamental concept should remain unarticulated, it can be said that “truth” is the agreement (conformity, correspondence) between the thing and what it is in itself (ontological truth); between what we know and what is (logical truth); and between what we express and what we know (moral truth). “Ontological truth” (Greek, ont-, “being”) is the truth of the thing in itself; or better, what it is in the eyes of God. “Logical truth” (logos, “word”) is the agreement between what is in the mind and what is in reality. “Moral truth” refers to the conformity between what we express and what is inside us, where we could speak of the virtue of truthfulness (sincerity)—the habit of telling the truth—which is correlative with the hearer’s right to know.

Beyond the epistemological considerations, John Paul II teaches: “All human beings desire to know, and truth is the proper object of this desire.” (Encyclical Letter Fides et Ratio, No. 25) Indeed, the human intelligence, reason, is ordained by nature to understand the truth (as the human free will, voluntas, is ordained to choose, to love, the good). Eventually, this orientation to truth becomes a desire for the knowledge of things according to their ultimate causes (philosophy, “love of wisdom”).

Yet, man’s thirst for truth can only be quenched by the fullness of truth, God: “It is the nature of the human being to seek the truth. This search looks not only to the attainment of truths which are partial, empirical or scientific; nor is it only in individual acts of decision-making that people seek the true good. Their search looks towards an ulterior truth which would explain the meaning of life. And it is therefore a search which can reach its end only in reaching the absolute”. (FeR, No. 33)

Since God transcends human nature (and, for that matter, all creation), our natural reason alone would be inadequate to know God as we ought (much less to know God as He Is). Our reaching God (which would find definitive fulfillment in eternity) is possible only because God reveals Himself to us—in His Word-made-flesh—through Sacred Scripture and Sacred Tradition.

“Faith” is man’s acceptance of, our assent to Divine Revelation. The supernatural virtue of Faith is itself a gift which enables and firmly inclines us to believe everything that God has revealed (because revealed by God Who can neither deceive nor be deceived).

Thus, “Faith and reason are like two wings on which the human spirit rises to the contemplation of truth; and God has placed in the human heart a desire to know the truth—in a word, to know himself—so that by knowing and loving God, men and women may also come to the fullness of truth about themselves”. (FeR, Preamble) “Just as grace builds on nature and brings it to fulfillment, so faith builds upon and perfects reason" (Id., No. 43). Faith alone can easily degenerate into superstition or mythology. Reason alone will fall short of our ultimate end. Authentic Christian faith is, therefore, faith seeking understanding.

Jesus, perfect God and perfect man, the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity become Man, the Word of God made flesh, is the Truth. “I am the way, and the truth, and the life” (Jn 14:6).

“In the Incarnation of the Son of God we see forged the enduring and definitive synthesis which the human mind of itself could not even have imagined: the Eternal enters time, the Whole lies hidden in the part, God takes on a human face. The truth communicated in Christ's Revelation is therefore no longer confined to a particular place or culture, but is offered to every man and woman who would welcome it as the word which is the absolutely valid source of meaning for human life. Now, in Christ, all have access to the Father, since by his Death and Resurrection Christ has bestowed the divine life which the first Adam had refused (cf. Rom 5:12-15). Through this Revelation, men and women are offered the ultimate truth about their own life and about the goal of history. As the Constitution Gaudium et Spes puts it, 'only in the mystery of the incarnate Word does the mystery of man take on light'. [GS, No. 22] Seen in any other terms, the mystery of personal existence remains an insoluble riddle. Where might the human being seek the answer to dramatic questions such as pain, the suffering of the innocent and death, if not in the light streaming from the mystery of Christ's Passion, Death and Resurrection?” (FeR, No. 12)

St. Josemaria writes: “We are to be pious, then, as pious as children, but not ignorant. Insofar as possible, each of us should study the faith seriously, rigorously—all of which means theology. Ours should be the piety of children and the sure doctrine of theologians.” (Christ is Passing By, No. 10)

O.C.P.A.J.P.M.

THE WORKS OF MERCY

“The works of mercy are charitable actions by which we come to the aid of our neighbor in his spiritual and bodily necessities.” (CCC, No. 2447) Traditionally, there are listed seven spiritual and seven corporal works of mercy.

The seven spiritual works of mercy are: (1) to admonish the sinner, (2) to instruct the ignorant, (3) to counsel the doubtful, (4) to comfort the sorrowful, (5) to bear wrongs patiently, (6) to forgive injuries, and (6) to pray for the living and the dead.

The seven corporal works of mercy are: (1) to feed the hungry, (2) to give drink to the thirsty, (3) to shelter the homeless (to welcome the stranger), (4) to clothe the naked, (5) to visit the sick, (6) to visit the imprisoned, and (7) to bury the dead (cf. Mt 25:31-46).

These listings are not exhaustive, of course, but are addressed to what may be considered the most basic needs of the individual human person. Nor are the corporal and spiritual categories exclusive of each other.

Indeed, since our Lord enumerates only the corporal works of mercy (the first six of the above-listed) in His discourse on the Last Judgment, He probably intended them to embrace, as well, the spiritual good of people.

Thus, to feed the hungry could also refer to spiritual food: doctrine and sacraments. To give drink to the thirsty could also refer to man’s thirst for truth in general. To clothe the naked could mean protecting other people’s dignity or good reputation, “covering” their “nakedness”, as did the good sons of Noah (Gen 9:23). To shelter the homeless or welcome the stranger could mean bringing people into the Faith, into the Church. To visit the sick could also involve spiritual comfort for spiritual suffering. To visit the imprisoned could refer to the relief or liberation of those under spiritual enslavement (i.e., to sin, vice, sinful relationships, sadness, worry, etc.). To bury the dead could also refer to forgiving and forgetting injuries inflicted on us by others. In addition to these, the traditional listing of the seven spiritual works of mercy serves to highlight the greater importance of spiritual works.

While both spiritual and corporal works of mercy are necessary (because man is spiritual soul and material body), St. Thomas Aquinas points out that the spiritual works of mercy are more important, since spiritual things are more noble. (2 Faith Seeking Understanding, ed. by Fr. Charles Belmonte, p. 133)

Because of our wounded human nature (and the resulting disordered inclinations), we do have a tendency to be “materialistic”, i.e., to confine reality only to what can be perceived by the senses or to give excessive importance to material things. We need to correct this tendency in us and, as far as we can, among those whom we encounter, in our surroundings. “True development concerns the whole man. It is concerned with increasing each person’s ability to respond to his vocation and hence to God’s call.” (CCC, No. 2461)

It is the human spiritual soul (not the human material body) which has, by nature, an eternal destiny (the “resurrection of the body” is a supernatural phenomenon). Unlike matter, spiritual substances are not composed of parts that could disintegrate; hence what is spiritual is by nature indestructible. It is also the human spiritual soul, or our principal spiritual faculties—our intellect and free will—that should lead us to our ultimate end, our highest good, which is union with God—sanctity, holiness, perfection—in His eternal happiness. To help others in this spiritual movement, which means, conversely, “to spread the Kingdom of Christ over all the earth” (CCC, No. 863), is apostolate. This is the greatest service we can do for others. Indeed, we know we truly love our fellowmen if we are concerned about their eternal happiness, which is “the one thing necessary”. (cf. Lk 10:42) Thus, St. Josemaria writes: “Charity with everyone means, therefore, apostolate with everyone (Friends of God, No. 230).”

On the other hand, since man is the union of spiritual soul and material body, fraternal charity requires due regard for the material good of others. In many instances, a minimum of material well-being would be needed for persons to turn to God.

The works of mercy should fulfill the commandment to love God above all else for His own sake and to love others as oneself for the love of God (cf. Mt 22:34-40; Mk 12:28-34; Lk 10:25-28). Love of God and love of neighbor—prefigured by the “two tablets” of stone given to Moses (Ex 31:18)—form the unity of the new law of charity.

Pope Benedict XVI reminds us: “The saints—consider the example of Blessed Teresa of Calcutta—constantly renewed their capacity for love of neighbour from their encounter with the Eucharistic Lord, and conversely this encounter acquired its realism and depth in their service to others. Love of God and love of neighbour are thus inseparable, they form a single commandment. But both live from the love of God who has loved us first.” (Deus Caritas Est, No. 18)

O.C.P.A.J.P.M.