Carmelite homily for Thursday (Week 12), June 25, 2020 – Lectionary 374 (Matthew 7:21-29)
In today’s Gospel Jesus uses the metaphor of building a house. And to listen to his word is like to build a secure, strong house, and to not listen to his word is to build a flimsy house built on sand which will get washed away. But we’re Carmelites! We’re mendicants which means wandering friars. We’re homeless! That’s our call. Not to build a strong house but to be homeless. Even Mount Carmel, our first foundation, is in ruins. Blessed Titus Brandsma writes, “Carmel is the mountain of flowers and with full hands the children of Carmel have strewn these flowers over all the earth.” That’s how we live in Christ; that’s how we follow the word. We wander everywhere over the earth saying, ‘would you like a flower?’
Carmelite homily for Wednesday, June 24, 2020 – Lectionary 371 (Luke 1:57-66) – the Nativity of Saint John the Baptist
I was a teacher at one of our high schools and I was asked to be a chaperone on the student trip to Europe. After the trip was over I stayed in Europe and went to visit Straubing in Germany, which was the founding house of the United States Carmelites, to spend the rest of the summer there. And when I arrived it was this day – the Nativity of John the Baptist. And I walked into the church expecting it to be empty and it was packed with people, and the choir was singing, and there was incense, and it was sheer beauty. And that’s always been my understanding since that that’s what John the Baptist does. He’s a precursor of the Lord; he’s the announcer of the Lord; he’s the one who says, ‘Behold the Lamb of God.’ He points out beauty. Carmel, as you know, means ‘Garden of God.’ It is a beautiful garden. That’s always been my understanding of John the Baptist. He brings us into, points at, shows us beauty. Let’s live in beauty this day.
Carmelite homily for Tuesday (Week 12), June 23, 2020 – Lectionary 372 (Matthew 7:12-14)
Saint Teresa of Avila writes, “I don’t see how, Lord, nor do I know how the road that leads to you is narrow.” And I agree with her! Even though Jesus says in today’s Gospel, ‘try to enter the narrow gate for the road that leads to destruction is wide.’ Actually, I think, if we try even a little bit of love or try a little bit of acknowledgement of God, God takes over; God guides; God directs. The Holy Spirit fills us with grace. And so how can that be narrow when we’ve got God empowering it, and fueling it, and guiding it? I think Teresa of Avila is right when she writes, “I don’t see how, Lord, nor do I know how the road that leads to you is narrow.”
Carmelite homily for Monday (Week 12), June 22, 2020 – Lectionary 371 (Matthew 7:1-5)
In today’s Gospel Jesus warns us not to judge others and the measure we measure out will be measured back to us. And he gives us the good example of why look at the speck in your brother’s eye and miss the plank in your own. But what’s the point? I think it’s to make life rich and rewarding instead of picking at each other and bringing each other down, building each other up. Saint Therese of Lisieux, who lived in a difficult Carmel, says, “A kind word or an amiable smile is often enough to make a sad soul bloom.” That’s our purpose; that’s our mission – to make a sad soul bloom. Instead of cutting them down or trampling them, make the sad soul – make all souls – bloom. That’s our vision; that’s our duty; that’s our mission.
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 Friday (Easter V), May 29, 2020 – Lectionary 301 (John 21:15-19)
Today we have a Resurrection Gospel. It’s the well-known scene on the shores of the Sea of Galilee. The disciples have come in after a miraculous draught of fish. And afterwards, Jesus asks Simon three questions – do you love me? do you love me? do you love me? He doesn’t ask questions like, ‘Simon, why did you doubt when I told you to walk on water?’ or ‘Simon, why did you fall asleep in the garden?’ or ‘Simon, why did you deny me in the courtyard?’ or ‘Simon, where were you when I was on the Cross?’ No, no accusations, just simple questions. Saint John of the Cross writes, “At the evening of life you will be examined in love.” Just like Simon Peter in today’s Gospel, I think those questions will be asked of us. Do you love me? Do you love me? Do you love me?
Carmelite homily for Thursday (Easter V), May 28, 2020 – Lectionary 300 (John 17:20-26)
In one of her poems, Saint Teresa of Avila writes, “Soul, you must seek yourself in Me, and in yourself seek Me.” That to find God is a dynamic of seeking yourself in God and seeking God in yourself. That it’s this kind of cycle or spiral of deep introspection into the things of God and into yourself. And the deeper you move into yourself, the closer you are to God; and the closer you are to God, the closer you are to yourself. I think that’s what Jesus is praying for in today’s Gospel when he prays for the Apostles and he says, ‘Father, that the love with which you have loved me may be in them, and I in them.’ Yes, that prayer is for the Apostles, but that prayer is also for us. Let us seek him in ourselves and seek ourselves in him.
Carmelite homily for Wednesday (Easter V), May 27, 2020 – Lectionary 299 (John 17:11-19)
In today’s Gospel Jesus says, as he prays for the Apostles, ‘consecrate them in truth; your word is truth; I consecrate myself for them so that they may be consecrated in truth.” There’s a lot of truth language here, but there needs to be because there’s a lot of lies. Society says, ‘oh, there shouldn’t be any pain; there really is no death; do what you want as long as you don’t hurt anyone.’ There’s a lot of lies. Advertisers! They promise everything, just buy the product. Truth needs to be discerned; discerned deeply. Saint Therese writes, “I can nourish myself on nothing but truth.” That is true – where true nourishment is. Not in lies, not in emptiness, not in falsehood – but in truth. But it takes a little bit to get there; it takes a lot of work to get to that food.
