Carmelite homily for Tuesday (Week 14), July 7, 2020 – Lectionary 384 (Matthew 9:32-38)
In today’s Gospel we have Jesus very busy. He’s going to, it says, all the towns and villages, teaching in their synagogues, and proclaiming that the kingdom of God is at hand. And he sees the crowds. He says that they’re like sheep without a shepherd. Let us pray for shepherds for these people. Saint John of the Cross, in the famous opening of his poem, One Dark Night, writes, “One dark night, fired by love’s urgent longings – ah, the sheer grace – I went out unseen; my house being now all stilled.” Oftentimes we think that is us – me, you – going to search for the Lord, but in today’s Gospel it’s the Lord going out searching to all the towns and villages for us. It works both ways. As we search for God, God searches for us.
Carmelite homily for Monday (Week 14), July 6, 2020 – Lectionary 383 (Matthew 9:18-26)
There’s a quotation from Saint Teresa of Avila that I’ve relied on when the going gets rough. She writes, “When you ask for something difficult you pay God a compliment.” I think that’s what describes what’s going on in today’s Gospel. There’s a lot going on. This man comes to say that his daughter has died, ‘Jesus, can you lay your hands on her and she will live?’ That’s a difficult one. And a woman with twelve years with a hemorrhage asks for healing. That’s a difficult one. Everything in today’s Gospel is difficult. And Jesus does them, showing that with God’s help and God’s grace these things can be done. Now what about the opposite though? I’ll extend Saint Teresa’s thought a little bit. What if God asks you or asks me for something difficult? Do we think ‘this is a burden’ or ‘this is a tragedy’ or ‘this is awful’ or can we say ‘thank you, God, for paying me that compliment’?
Carmelite homily for Friday, July 3, 2020, the Feast of Saint Thomas the Apostle – Lectionary 593 (John 20:24-29)
On the day that Saint Therese of Lisieux professed her vows in Carmel, she had written a prayer and put it in her pocket. And part of the prayer says, “Jesus, I ask you for nothing but peace, and love, infinite love; love which is no longer ‘I’ but ‘You.” This is my interpretation of this Feast of Saint Thomas the Apostle. Because we have Thomas who returns to the Upper Room after Jesus has left and he says, ‘I will not believe; I need to put my hands in the nail marks; I need to put my hand in his side.’ It’s all I, I, I. So the next time Jesus appears and Thomas does that he says, ‘My Lord and my God.’ What happened to all the I? I think that’s what Jesus does – he pulls us out of the I, the me, the selfishness – to the you, which is neighbor, which is God, which is those in need, the poor. That’s the call, the invitation, of today’s Gospel and this Feast: to not live in the I but in the you.
Carmelite homily for Thursday (Week 13), July 2, 2020 – Lectionary 380 (Matthew 9:1-8)
Saint Mary Magdalene d’Pazzi was an Italian Carmelite, a contemporary of Saint Teresa of Avila, and she writes, “Trials are nothing else but the forge that purifies the soul of all its imperfections.” I think that’s what we see in today’s Gospel, or at least my interpretation of it, when they bring the paralytic on a mat and Jesus says, ‘your sins are forgiven.’ What is forgiveness but cleansing, purifying? That’s the language we use. That whatever has put him on that mat, whatever paralyzed him, or paralyzes us, can be forgiven, cleansed, purged. But it’s those trials that bring us to great depth, bring us to a deeper heart, a purified heart, a rich heart. So let’s turn everything to Jesus and watch what happens.
a commentary by Gregory Houck, O.Carm. – Friday, June 5, 2020
We are living in racially-charged times and race has become a ‘front burner’ issue with protests and even rioting throughout the United States in response to the killing of an African-American, George Floyd, by a policeman in Minneapolis; this on the heels of other recent racially-charged events in New York, Georgia and Kentucky. What is the Carmelite response?
First, some history. Spain of the 1500s, after driving out the Moors (Muslims) and the Jews from the land, put in Purity of Blood laws throughout the Spanish empire. Not only did a person had to be a natural-born white European to
become a priest,
become a nun,
be a member of the aristocracy,
teach in a university,
to hold any government position,
but that person had to also show that his/her parents and grandparents also had ‘pure blood.’ This prevented anyone of Jewish, Muslim, or native American ancestry from having any kind of employment, any kind of power or even a family anywhere in Spanish lands.
Yes, those were racially-charged times. In the middle of that Saint Teresa of Avila founded her first reformed Carmelite convent in 1568. She told the sisters that they would not follow the Purity of Blood laws when admitting new members to the Order. Some of those sisters, and much of Spain, were not happy with Teresa. Some accused her of being a lawbreaker or a free-thinker; and some plotted to have her arrested and locked up. She did not flinch – even when the Spanish Inquisition began looking into her policies. This is the Carmelite response – to support any oppressed minority and work against oppression but also to empower and include them fully.
This inclusive policy did not begin with Saint Teresa though. On Mount Carmel in the 1200s the first Carmelites were formed from a mishmash of nationalities and cultures and, yes, races; pushed together onto Mount Carmel by war. In those racially-charged times, those first Carmelites worked through all those issues and all those differences forming one Order and made it work. From its founding and throughout an 800-year history, this is the Carmelite way. Today, we too can work through this and make it work!
Creation and the Cross: the Mercy of God for a Planet in Peril by Elizabeth Johnson, CSJ | Orbis Press, 2018 | pp 256
Many people consider Sister Elizabeth Johnson, CSJ, the foremost theologian, let alone Catholic theologian, in the world today. Her newest book is entitled Creation and the Cross: the Mercy of God for a Planet in Peril (Orbis Books, Maryknoll, NY 2018). This book is delightfully written as a dialogue between Elizabeth and Clara (i.e., clarity) where Clara serves as a type of ‘Greek Chorus’ bringing in popular thought, or history, or rephrasing what Elizabeth just said. This is modeled on the same type of dialogue in his book, Cur Deus Homo (Why God Became Man), by Anselm of Canterbury (born 1033, died 1109). Not only is this book modeled on Anselm’s book, Creation and the Cross refutes it and tries to replace it with an understanding of Redemption that makes sense today.
Johnson begins her book with Anselm’s ‘Satisfaction Theory’ as an explanation for the Incarnation of Jesus Christ; namely, that God’s honor needed to be satisfied after the dishonor of the sin of Adam and Eve and all humanity. God has infinite honor and therefore requires infinite satisfaction to make it right. Jesus, being human, can offer the satisfaction and Jesus, being divine, makes that satisfaction infinite. Although this ‘Satisfaction Theory’ made sense in Anselm’s era, Elizabeth finds this just too medieval and too feudal, as well as not scriptural. The scriptures tell us that God has never requires satisfaction; rather, God restores, renews, comforts, and forgives throughout the scriptures. Johnson then looks at what other possible meanings are there for Jesus’ death (the Cross) besides satisfaction.
Beginning with scripture she sees a myriad of theologies of the Cross:
salvation means to ‘salve’ or to heal – a medical metaphor,
conquering sin and death – a military metaphor,
reconciliation – ala where only the Prodigal Son, not the Father, needs it,
redemption – a restorative metaphor (cloak returned, property returned),
justification – a judicial metaphor when a judge declares you ‘not guilty,’
sacrifice – a ceremony that restores ‘right relationship’ with God,
adoption – a family metaphor for how we move from slave to son/daughter,
rebirth – a family metaphor to how we move into the Divine family,
nurturing – a family metaphor, how a mother (or father) nutures a child,
new creation – a metaphor contrasting Old Adam and New Adam,
servant – how the Servant Songs of 2nd Isaiah are metaphors for Jesus.
In all these, Johnson warns us to never literalize any metaphor, and that no one metaphor of these scriptural theologies of the Cross has been ‘declared’ as the official theology of the Cross by the Church. She notes that none of these scriptural meanings are ‘satisfactional;’ rather, they are all God-initiated and God-completed.
Johnson then asks if these are necessarily to humans only. She quotes John Muir, “When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the Universe.” Johnson agrees and she uses the term ‘Deep Incarnation’ to indicate that since everything is connected, Incarnation must be for everything. She then notes that the Cross and Resurrection are intrinsically tied; in fact, unified, to tell us that the Resurrection is for all creation and not just humanity. She notes that this idea is common in the Orthodox Churches’ understanding of Resurrection.
I would say that Chapter Six, “Conversion of Mind and Heart: Us,” is the lynchpin of Johnson’s book. She has effectively argued for a horizonal (not pyramidal) understanding of all creation including humanity’s place in creation. So through a series of five ‘thought experiments’ she tries to bring the reader to a “conversion of mind and heart” in our interaction with creation, especially regarding life on this planet. She notes that “dominion” does not mean domination. In the passage, “Then God said, ‘Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness; and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the birds of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the wild animals of the earth, and over every creeping thing that creeps upon the earth” (Genesis 1:26). God is giving them stewardship. She adds that a Lord (dominus, domina) was a steward in the king’s service. Johnson concludes, “An important step will be taken if Christians see that the grace of the crucified and risen Christ washes over all creation, to practical and critical effect.”
Although I have not read everything that Elizabeth Johnson has written (yes, there is a lot), but in this book and in her recent articles we see her thought move squarely into the center of a creation-centered and stewardship-centered theology. The contribution that an ecological ‘Theology of the Cross,’ seen so clearly in Creation and the Cross: the Mercy of God for a Planet in Peril, is a valuable and much-needed contribution to theology, to the Church, and to the world.
Carmelite homily for Tuesday (Easter VI), May 19, 2020 – Lectionary 292 (John 16:5-11)
What I like about the Carmelite saints is that they see things a little bit differently, a little more deeply. For example, this is what Saint Elizabeth of the Trinity writes, “If you do not practice sweet silence, it will be impossible for you to taste the things of God.” I think it’s in silence that the brain, the mind can say is this indeed so? Is this indeed correct? Is this indeed God? Is this indeed holy? That’s what, I think, Jesus is inviting us to in today’s Gospel where he’s talking about sin, righteousness, and condemnation, and saying, ‘it’s different than you think.’ I think practice sweet silence; think these things out. I think the Gospels are always saying, ‘think differently, think deeply.’ That’s the invitation of today’s Gospel.
Carmelite homily for Monday (Easter VI), May 18, 2020 – Lectionary 291 (John 15:26-16:4)
Saint Elizabeth of the Trinity is a Carmelite we don’t hear enough of. She was a contemporary of Saint Therese of Lisieux in the Carmel of Dijon, France. And she writes, “Always love prayer; but when I say prayer I do not mean reciting a vast quantity of vocal prayers every day; rather, I mean the elevation of the soul to God through all things.” I think that’s the key to today’s Gospel where Jesus says, ‘Do not fall away in persecution.’ If we have elevated the soul; if we live in the heavenly realms; if we live in sanctity; if we live with Jesus, how can we fall away? I think that’s the call of today’s Gospel: to elevate the soul in all things – persecution, joy – every moment, every day.
When I was still a seminarian, an older Carmelite, Father Bonaventure, visited us for a few days. During his visit I listened to his stories of life in the missions, in our schools, in our parishes and stories about his family and about his hobbies – and his battle with cancer. Just before leaving he handed me a large box filled with clergy shirts and some regular shirts, too. He said, “you look like my size and so consider this a ‘thank you’ for the kindness of listening to an old man tell his stories.” And then he took the ring off his finger and said, “this ring has been with me throughout my Carmelite life and I would rather it not be buried with me so I’m giving it to you.” I tried to refuse it but he insisted, and then left for home.
Later that day I examined the ring. It was ugly! Badly tarnished. Scratches galore. A big dent on the back. Dirt encrusted around the Carmelite shield design. And when I tried to put it on, it was too small and the dent dug into my skin. I decided that I should keep it since it was a gift, so I put it away and then soon forgot about it.
When I ran into it again, I was serving as an associate pastor in a Carmelite parish in New Jersey. The president of the parish council ran a jewelry store in town so I brought it into his store and asked if he could do anything to make it fit. He sized the ring and sized my finger and said that a small insert could be added. But then he added that it was a cheap ring and an identical new one would be easier to make than to resize this old one. But I said that this ring had some sentimental value and I’d prefer if he did something with it instead of making a new one.
Two weeks later he called to say the ring was ready. So I walked over to pick it up. He went to the back room and came out with a small box and handed it to me. I opened it and was completely surprised at what I saw. The ring was beautiful! The basic band was bright silver and the Carmelite shield logo was in gold. And everything caught the light and glistened. No grime. No tarnish. No dent. Clean. Bright. Beautiful. It was so super-nice now and such a complete surprise. Yes, the same scratch is there, but now barely noticeable. In fact, it is that scratch and all the dents, the tarnish — the history — that even makes this ring all the more beautiful. Beauty with history has to mean a lot more than beauty alone.
If God wanted us to be angels, God would’ve made us angels. Instead God made us humans. Being human must be important in God’s plan for me and in God’s plan for you. And I think this ring illustrates that. The jeweler could have made a brand new identical ring and it would be perfect — no scratches, no dents, no resizing. Yes, perfect. I sometimes think the angels are like that. They have no faults, no sins — they’re perfect. But the jeweler instead took the old ring and scrubbed out the grime, polished out the scratches, and hammered out the dents and made it beautiful. But it’s even more beautiful because of that grime, those scratches, and the dents. It’s even more beautiful because of has that history.
When the Father did all that for His Son — closing the whip marks, reknitting the marks from the thorns, drying up the flow from the nails — that is Resurrection! Jesus is beautiful in the Resurrection, and all the more beautiful because of the whipping, the thorns and the nails. The marks are still there, but no longer marks of pain and horror but marks of depth and meaning. Resurrection is all the more beautiful because of the Crucifixion. Easter is all the more beautiful because of Good Friday.
And it’s the same with us. Who hasn’t been scourged or beaten or even crucified in this life? We all have. Each one of us. But if this is born in love or chosen in love or suffered because of love, then God will do the same thing. God will close my whip marks, your whip marks. God will reknit my thorn scratches, your thorn scratches. God will dry up my flow of blood, your flow of blood. This is resurrection! My resurrection, and your resurrection, will be all the more beautiful because through the whips and thorns and nails, we still chose love. We chose the cross.
This is why, when we celebrate Easter we don’t only celebrate Jesus’ rising from the tomb. That’s not enough! We are also celebrating his Passion, and his Crucifixion. Now that’s enough! We celebrate Easter across three days — Holy Thursday, Good Friday and the Great Vigil of Easter. That is Easter. Easter is not Sunday; rather, Easter is Thursday-through-Sunday. And then we take that and celebrate for fifty more days.
