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Through the Spirit we acquire a likeness to God;
indeed, we attain what is beyond our most sublime aspirations — we
become God
(St. Basil the Great, bishop, from the treatise On the Holy Spirit,
Cap. 9, 22–23: PG 32, 107–110).
Each celebration of the Eucharist invites us to consider our own role in
the Body of Christ as baptized members. Participation in the eucharistic
mystery amplifies the effects of baptism in cooperation with the Spirit
of God for the renewal of both church and earth.
As we pilgrims progress, our temptation, in examining our consciences,
is to begin to count: how many children taught, how many retreatants served
or retreats made, how many people guided in spiritual direction, and how
many temporal affairs of the church and parish attended to. Sometimes the
sum seems staggering. And when we add our sum to the years of service of
all our sisters and brothers, with those of all the parishioners buried
in our cemeteries, the number moves beyond staggering to the border of
unfathomable. But if we think life in Christ is only about service, we
have missed the significant beginning on the day of baptism.
On our day of baptism, either we promised or our parents and godparents
promised in our names that we would serve God faithfully in the Catholic
Church. Those promises were received by the Lord through the church present
around the baptismal pool in the members of the gathered community. Hearing
the voice of Jesus calling us to “repent and hear the good news,” we each
seek our own conversion and that of all the world. Our task is to invite
the word of Christ to dwell richly within us (Col 3:16). What will this
word accomplish, working within us? St. Athanasius tells us that “[The
word] was made [flesh] that we might be made God.” St. Thomas Aquinas points
to the same truth: “Since it was the will of God’s only begotten Son that
[we] should share in his divinity, he assumed our nature in order that
by becoming [one like us] he might make [us] gods.” This ancient insight
is repeated at each Mass when the gifts are prepared. As the priest or
deacon pours drops of water into the wine, he prays, “By the mystery of
this water and wine, may we come to share in the divinity of Christ who
humbled himself to share in our humanity.”
Sometimes, however, we confuse the call to transformation with a simple
vision of social justice. Immersion into the eucharistic mystery reveals
the gospel insight that if we build a better earth but do not become better
people, if we do not glimpse the reign of God among us, then all of our
accomplishments will be as straw and dust.
At the eucharistic table, we celebrate both transformation and faithfulness.
The Eucharist calls us to an awareness that we must keep one eye on the
past and another eye fixed on the future as we seek the narrow gate (Mt
7:14). Our hearts are directly connected to hands still wet with baptismal
water. The apostle Paul speaks to these hearts and hands, reminding us
that “the gifts and the call of God are irrevocable” (Rom 11:29).
Calling us to lives of faithful prayer and constant service, our baptism
into the Body of Christ speaks of our dignity and the glorious vocation
we share: to show in our own lives the glory of God (see Is 49:3). Catherine
Mowry LaCugna writes of the message to us in the doctrine of the Trinity,
affirming that the God into whose name we are baptized is not a patriarch
who has created women less than men. Our God calls us to true communion
among persons, and in the Spirit God will share with us the deepest meaning
of life. Transformation in Christ will include openness to new situations
and new needs. The Spirit will speak; we will listen, and the church will
endlessly reform herself in every age and place, recovering, as LaCugna
hopes, the earliest apostolic charisms and the message of the reign of
God (“God in Communion with Us,” in Freeing Theology: The Essentials
of Theology in Feminist Perspective [Harper, 1993], 108).
The Spirit-filled lives of those who have gathered before us at the
eucharistic table and commune with us still inspire and enflame our hope.
We read of them in the Book of Revelation: “I heard a voice from heaven
say, ‘Write this: Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from now on.’
‘Yes,’ said the Spirit, ‘let them find rest from their labors, for their
works accompany them’” (14:13). A new generation of those who think and
pray keeps our hope in focus; among this new group are two of my undergraduate
students, whom I have invited to contribute sidebars to this essay. The
vigor and insight of these young scholars and the vitality they and their
companions bring to the church today give us confidence in asserting our
own place, as Vatican II insists we must, among the people of God.
Our place in God’s reign is envisioned and celebrated in William W.
How’s 1864 hymn “For All the Saints,” which prompts us today to nod our
thanks to those on our right, those on our left, and to the saints who
shine above: “O blest communion, family divine! We feebly struggle, they
in glory shine; yet all are one within your great design.”
“With our faces unveiled, all of us, reflecting as in a mirror the glory
of God, are being transformed from splendor to splendor” (2 Cor 3:18).
Thanks be to God! ML
William C. Graham, a frequent ML contributor, is a priest of the
Diocese of Duluth in Minnesota, where he directs the emerging program in
Catholic Studies at The College of St. Scholastica. His latest book, Clothed
in Christ: Toward a Spirituality for Lay Ministers, was published in
2007 by Twenty-Third Publications. The revised edition of The Catholic
Wedding Book, which he coauthored with Molly K. Hans, was recently released
by Paulist.
[sidebar 1]
Promises, promises
Brandon Butler
As a young man, college student, and participant in the catechumenate
with an eye on the Easter festivities, I recently read David B. Batchelder’s
“Baptismal Renunciations: Making Promises We Do Not Intend to Keep” (Worship81,
no. 5 [Sept. 2007]: 409–425) and have been happily provoked into a deeper
consideration of what we are about when approaching the baptismal pool.
Batchelder points out that “the renunciation of evil [is] one of the necessary
elements of the baptismal ‘ordo’” (409). In renouncing participation in
sin and evil, we must be transformed: “At the heart of our water washing
is a grace-filled change of allegiance that asks for our surrender” (414–415).
If baptism “is about liberation from those powers that deceive, distort,
coerce, manipulate, and intimidate through fear” (417), the ritual of baptism
is not where the Christian journey ends, but rather where it begins. So
conversion, or metanoia, is a continual reorientation of our lives
through grace (416).
We are asked to reject what we know now to be sin and evil — but not
just sin that is already known. This challenge may mean “the inevitable
and unavoidable conflict with culture that comes with choosing the way
of the cross” (411). We must be willing to turn away from all injustice,
including that which is perpetuated by institutions of which we are a part,
such as governments.
As Christians, we must seek the common good. When we choose Christ,
this “necessarily means a rejection of that which is anti, or in opposition
to, Christ” (424). The business of conversion to Christ is very serious,
and those who prepare for baptism or to renew their baptismal promises
must be prepared to “call sin and evil out” (420).
In promising to renounce evil, we must be careful not to “practice a
way of speaking ritually that not only permits false witness at the font,
but establishes it as the norm. We make claims concerning sin and evil
but often live as if we have not really considered the implications” (411).
We need to consider carefully the implications of where sin lies. Sometimes
it may be in something so familiar that it remains hidden.
Our American life is one based on the individual. Christianity is based
on the community; together we are the Body of Christ. Christianity, then,
may conflict with culture. It is our duty to find a way of being productive
members of society while still clinging to Christ. Thus we cannot see pain
in the world and shrug, saying, “Well, that’s just how things can be sometimes.”
Instead, Batchelder invites us to consider baptismal formation that would
call us to renounce equating the gospel with the American dream; defining
human value according to economic power; obtaining national security at
the expense of global security for the world God loves; justifying the
practices of homophobia, sexism, racism, and xenophobia, or any treatment
of human beings that ignores their dignity (422). We know that God has
a different vision and purpose. So also must we.
Brandon Butler is a senior at The College of St. Scholastica, where
he is completing a double major in Catholic studies and English.
[sidebar 2]
Attitudes and expectations
Joseph Reimer
Individuals bring different attitudes and expectations to celebrations.
This is human nature, and it is often especially true for teenagers. Some
events, such as Eucharist, call us to a certain development and refinement
of our attitude as we grow older, wiser, and more mature.
While I was a child, I attended Mass on a weekly basis with my family.
I remember sitting in the pews goofing off or not paying attention. I recall
looking around the congregation and chuckling when I saw elders with their
hands raised or singing enthusiastically. As I have gotten older, I have
begun to realize how my attitude toward Mass has changed. I now look at
those elders with their hands raised with admiration, hoping that I can
one day be as enveloped in the Holy Spirit as they are. I look around at
the children laughing during Mass and just smile, knowing that their day
of enlightenment will come. They will realize the power of Eucharist and
drop their selfish attitudes and expectations, as I am still trying to
do. They will treat the consecrated bread as a true blessing from Christ,
who died so that we may live, rather than as a simple wafer to chew on.
Attitudes and expectations toward the Eucharist take time to develop.
Just as it took me several years to understand better and accept the true
meaning of Eucharist, so also will those younger than I need to make a
similar journey in the development of attitudes and expectations. On Holy
Thursday, the opening prayer declares: “God our Father, we are gathered
here to share in the supper which your only Son left to his Church to reveal
his love.” This could seem just so many words or a simple verse. But worshipers
who have worked and prayed to develop keener insights will see, perceive,
and receive the true gift from God.
As with many different aspects of the human heart and mind, this attitude
of dedication to faith will grow and develop in me and in others as we
grow in age and in wisdom just as Jesus did (Lk 2:52).
Joseph Reimer is a 21-year-old senior management major at The College
of St. Scholastica.
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