"I Thirst"

Blessed Teresa of Calcutta's Feast Day: September 5th

Last summer, my oldest daughter lived and worked with the Missionaries of Charity in Memphis.  My family and I had a chance to join the sisters for a Saturday morning Mass in their chapel, and it was a most memorable experience indeed!

As you may know, one of the trade-marks of the community founded by Mother Teresa is that, whenever they start a new outreach to the poorest of the poor, they adorn the walls of their chapel with Jesus' words from the cross:  "I thirst."  In fact, they paint them on the wall next to the Crucifix, and it seems as if Jesus is speaking these words all over again, day after day, here and now. 

The Sisters, of course, take Christ's words to heart in just this way.  After all, this was the pivotal insight of Mother Teresa's "call within a call"--her realization that Christ continues to thirst for our love, particularly through the cry of those who are most weak and vulnerable, those who are most marginalized.

In his recent encyclical, The Light of Faith, Pope Francis lifts up both Blessed Mother Teresa and Saint Francis of Assisi as exemplars of how the light of faith opens our eyes to the sufferings of this world.  He comments:

"In drawing near to the suffering, they were certainly not able to eliminate all their pain or to explain every evil.  Faith is not a light which scatter all our darkness, but a lamp which guides our steps in the night and suffices for the journey.  To those who suffer, God does not provide arguments which explain everything; rather, his response is that of an accompanying presence, a history of goodness which touches every story of suffering and opens up a ray of light.  In Christ, God himself wishes to share this path with us and to offer us his gaze so that we might see the light within it." (n. 57)

Go Make Disciples--Mission Possible

 

 

As the Church's fourth and final characteristic professed in the Creed, "apostolic" points to a profound inner-dynamism at the heart of the Catholic faith:  The Church is, first and foremost, a movement. 

 

Pope Paul VI famously proclaimed, "The Church exists in order to evangelize," and Pope Francis has challenged Catholics to move beyond a "self-referential" faith.  Both of these successors of St. Peter understand that having a faith rooted in the authoritative teaching of the Apostles is necessary, but not sufficient.  A truly "apostolic" faith is one which responds to Christ's "sending forth" of the community of believers.  The Church evangelizes because, deep down, every human person longs to be evangelized.

 

So have you noticed this apostolic, mission-driven, quality of the Church during this Year of Faith?  We have seen our new Holy Father Francis personally challenging us to create a "culture of encounter" in response to a "culture of indifference."  We have seen Bishops across the country boldly promoting the new evangelization, as well as three million young adults flocking to World Youth Day.  And we have seen parishes and small Christian communities asking themselves how they can help people experience a sense of belonging, of meaning, and of authentic friendship. 

 

Three recent books strike related themes about how this mission can be possible for each of us personally, as well as for our parishes and for the Church universal:

Living Labor Day

So what will you be celebrating this Labor Day?  As the official closing long weekend of summer, it's clearly a time to be thankful for the special blessings we've enjoyed during this season of re-creation.  And, for teachers and students everywhere, it's a chance to take a deep breath before the long haul of the new school year hits full stride.

But Labor Day is also an opportunity to pause in gratitude for the gift of work.  For it is work which has the potential to help us forge fully human identities.  And it is work which has the capacity to hone our strengths into virtues, as well as to chisel away our weaknesses before they become vices.

In addition, Labor Day provides an opportunity to reflect on some of the pressing issues of our times--such as, economic immigrants, income inequalities, and global financial concerns.  Do I stand in communion with those who seek meaningful work and a living wage, or do I support power structures designed to maintain the status quo?  Do I cling to my comfortable lifestyle and rationalize protecting "my own," or am I open to working for justice for all of my brothers and sisters?

From the very beginning, the Church has stood in solidarity with the "least" and with those who are powerless in the eyes of the world.  In recent decades the Church has spoken on behalf of the rights of workers and has raised provocative questions about a global capitalism driven by the maximization of profit margins.  The Church does defend the right to private property, but frames it within the context of a universal destination of all goods--"the goods of creation are destined for the whole human race" (CCC, n. 2402).  Moreover, the Catechism emphasizes that "the universal destination of goods remains primordial" (n. 2403), and so "my" property is first and foremost not really mine.  On the contrary, I am the steward of gifts which should be used for the good of all.

The Great "Both/And"

"Deep down, what do all human beings desire?"  At a recent in-service for Catholic school teachers, I asked this question and then waited not-so-patiently for someone to respond.  Just as I was about to jump back in with a follow-up question, a couple of teachers simultaneously shouted, "Love."

It's pretty hard to argue with that answer, isn't it?  We all desire to love and to be loved.  Indeed, Jesus became one with us, laid down his life, and then rose from the dead precisely to re-order our lives to Love. 

Yet the term love is so often misused or even abused, and Jesus' message is so often reduced to a warm fuzzy message--a variation of the Barney theme song.  So is love just a matter of doing what makes me feel good at any given moment, or is it about making a sincere gift of myself for the good of others?  Is it just a matter of pursuing my own self-interest, or does it involve willing what's in the best interest of others? 

The Doctrine of the Incarnation stands as a great safeguard against the trivialization of Christian love.  It is a sign pointing us toward the deeper truth of Trinitarian love which God has revealed in his Son.  As people who long to love and be loved, these sacred mysteries need to shape our view of the world, our attitudes and actions, and our experience of life itself.

But the reality of the Incarnation sets a seeming contradiction at the heart of our faith.  It challenges us to walk in the opaque light of mystery.  The Second Vatican Council speaks of Christ who, "by the revelation of the mystery of the Father and His love, fully reveals man to man himself and makes his supreme calling clear" (GS, n. 22).  The Creator comes as a creature and--simultaneously--reveals both who God is and who we are.

From Transfiguration to Assumption

In August, several key moments in the Church's liturgical calendar collide with tragic historical events from the 20th century--Eternity breaking forth into Time, on various levels.

Maybe you are better with dates than I am, but I never realized that the United States dropped the first atomic bomb on the very feast of the Transfiguration of our Lord.  On 6 August 1945, the world watched in horror as tens of thousands of innocent civilians lost their lives.  Natural forces were unhinged, and the terror of raw power was unleashed.

And yet, on that same day each year, the Church commemorates the experience of three humble disciples who glimpsed the glory of the supernatural reality which would ultimately change human history.  They looked upon Eternal Life, present in the temporal person of Jesus of Nazareth,  And they heard the voice from the heavens say, "This is my chosen Son; listen to him" (Lk 9:35).  Peter, James and John knew that they were in the presence of the Power who created the cosmos itself.

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The Transfiguration and the dropping of the Bomb confront us with a fundamental decision:  Will we choose a world view rooted in Eternity, or one tied only to Time?  In other words, will we embrace the eternal horizon which guided the first Christians, or will we choose the temporal horizon which is characteristic of all those who seek to build worldly empires?