Some Biblical Reflections

by Fr. Francis Martin

The basic principle in considering the morality of suicide consists in the fact that life is a gift, which means that its intelligibility must include relationality. We owe the fact of our life to others, not only in conception and growth but more profoundly in the relation that grounds our existence and life, namely, creation by God himself. It is impossible to discuss suicide without taking into account this basic relationship to God to whom we are indebted for our existence and continued life. Many insightful reflections on suicide are to be found in chapter 10 of the study by Robert Spaemann: Persons. The Difference Between ‘Someone’ and ‘Something’ (Oxford Studies in Theological Ethics, Oxford University Press, 2006), especially chapter10, “Death and the Future Perfect Tense.’’ This short essay of the basic viewpoints regarding suicide will draw on this chapter and draw as well on chapter 18, “Are All Human Beings Personal?”

The life of a human being is at once a gift from God and a personal possession. Because it is a personal possession it is subject to personal decision, because it is a gift from God it must correspond to the intention of the donor. We can see in the lives of the saints the perfect realization of these dimensions of life: it is a gift and it is a responsibility. Most modern reflections on life oscillate between these two aspects and the greatest challenge to their integration is to be found in the reality of suffering. Moments of profound suffering bring us face to face with the challenge of possessing a gift that can be unwanted. It is at this point that the mystery of suffering brings us face to face with the fact that our personal possession of life does not include the right of disposing of the gift in a way that seems best to us. Life always remains a gift from the Giver. This position will disclose for us the fact that we can be sure of always living because this gift is permanently fixed in the will of God for us. St. Bernard, pondering the mystery of our free will and our encounter with God, expressed it this way: “consentire salvari est:” “To consent is to be saved.”

I am writing this brief reflection on the feast of St. Therese of Lisieux. In the last days of her short life, one of her most aggressive temptations was the thought that with death would come extinction. Paradoxically, this is the temptation of many who desire suicide. In their desire to exist no longer in pain, they can be unaware of God’s plan of mercy for them. Those who surround them and love them must mediate that conviction of everlasting mercy to those who are suffering and help to fortify their hope. This requires more than platitudes. It means sharing with them a deep experience of mercy and hope, a hope that can see beyond the fear and the pain to the ultimate goal of God’s plan of forgiveness and endless happiness. Even in pain God’s mercy is the source of hope.

Perhaps the greatest obstacle in mediating to the dying the hope of being forgiven and of ultimately living with God forever, is the prevailing attitude that God is an unknowable abstraction and that, ultimately, there is no forgiveness for sin. It is never too late to share a conviction of God’s mercy with someone who is in pain and intuitively knows that the end of their life is near. But the conviction cannot be a vague desire. It must rest on a real conviction of the mercy of God and be strong and personal enough to be shared in such a way that it contributes to carrying someone through death. There may be times that this does not seem possible to achieve, but the effort to communicate can speak louder than the words and ultimately it is the experience of this love and concern that makes its own witness.

A Culture Adrift

by Fr. Francis Martin

Christopher Dawson describes our culture as, “detached from spiritual aims and values” and “faced with a spiritual crisis of the most acute kind.” An atmosphere in which there is no “spiritual sense of religion as a objective reality transcending on private experience. Another Catholic thinker, Romano Guardini, speaks of the loss of “an objective sense of belonging to existence,” and the need for “root virtues of earnestness and gravity grounded in truth.”[1]

There are as well efforts being made to overcome the isolation effected by modernity while retaining those positive advances which it did achieve.  From a Christian perspective this means moving ahead to a deeper understanding that human existence is a gift that finds its perfection in responding to God, the Giver and to accepting the communion with the Trinity that is offered to us in Christ.  But this also means seeking communion with others in a mutual relationship of generosity and receptivity. 

It is worth noting, then, in this regard how strong is the insistence in the Encyclical Fides et Ratio that an important aspect of our moving out of the dilemmas of modernity is to retrieve an develop the inter-personal dimension of our knowledge of the truth.  This particularly stressed in §32:

Human perfection does not solely consist in acquiring an abstract knowledge of the truth, rather it finds its place in a living habit of self-giving and fidelity towards others.  In this very fidelity in which a man learns how to give himself, he discovers full certainty and firmness of spirit.  But at the same time knowledge that comes through confidence and depends on interpersonal esteem is not given without reference to truth: a man, by believing, is committed to the truth which another has shown him.[2]

Some people search for the truth with a fear of finding it.  A genuine and generous desire to share in the truth is the surest way to know the delight of possessing it.



[1] I am taking these quotes from Michael Paul Gallagher, Clashing Symbols. An introduction to Faith and Culture (London: Darton, Longman and Todd Ltd, 1997), 79-80. who is citing Christopher Dawson, Religion and Culture (London: Sheed & Ward, 1948), 217.and idem, Understanding Europe (London: Sheed & Ward, 1952), 241-45.

[2] Laurence Paul Hemming and Susan Frank Parsons, eds., Restoring Faith in Reason.  A New Translation of the Encyclical Letter Faith and Reason of Pope John Paul II Together with a Commentary and Discussion (London: SCM Press, 2002), p.53

In light of the Supreme Court’s recent declaration regarding Hobby Lobby, and in commemoration of our country’s celebration of freedom on July 4th, the question and essence of freedom is worth reflection.

A striking chapter in Fyodor Dostoevsky’s book, The Brothers Karamazov, presents a poem written by Ivan, a young man in jail for patricide.

The setting of his poem is sixteenth century Seville. Jesus comes to visit his people; some recognize him and call out to him for help and healing. Then on the steps of the Cathedral, Jesus encounters the bier of a young girl of seven being carried out for burial. The crowd begs him to raise her, and he does. Watching from the other side of the street is the Cardinal, the Grand Inquisitor, a tall ascetic man of ninety years who finally orders Jesus’ arrest.

That night, the Inquisitor visits Jesus in jail and describes Jesus’ error in presuming that human beings want to be free. He illustrates this mistake by pointing to the temptation in the desert when Jesus refuses the devil’s solicitations to multiply bread, hurl himself off the temple parapet, and finally reverence Satan himself. The Inquisitor and those in league with him consider themselves martyrs and heroes for taking upon themselves the “burden” of freedom and relieving human beings of this awful challenge. He argues that humans do not want to be free: they want to be safe. Finally the Inquisitor, having finished his charges against Jesus, opens the cell door. Jesus rises and, still without a word, kisses him and leaves.

The recent Hobby Lobby victory directly challenges the Grand Inquisitor’s position of valuing safety over freedom by appealing to, ultimately, the person of Jesus Christ. In Him is freedom from slavery, sin, and death. In Him is the yoke of individualism lifted. And in Him is the freedom to truly live. Our country’s freedom is a reflection of the freedom that comes from receiving Truth, Jesus Christ. May we turn our hearts to Him in a special way this July 4th to receive the only Truth that sets us free.

Day of Prayer for the Legal Protection of Unborn Children

The decision to legalize abortion ratified the erroneous conviction that imposing death on an innocent and helpless human being is a legitimate solution to a problem.  The result has been a lack of respect and reverence for human life under every aspect, and has produced a society in which courtesy and common human concern have diminished dramatically.

The late Cardinal Henri de Lubac, S.J., wrote a study that puts this drift into a wider perspective of truth and freedom.  Its title is The Drama of Atheist Humanism.  A striking chapter in the book is an analysis of a chapter in Fyodor Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov.  In that novel, Dostoyevsky tells us about Aloyosha, a young monk in a Russian monastery who comes to visit his older brother Ivan who is in jail, accused of the murder of their father.  Ivan tells Aloyosha that he has written a poem about the Grand Inquisitor and proceeds to tell him about it.

The setting of the poem is Seville, in the sixteenth century.  Jesus comes to visit his people; some recognize him and call out to him for help and healing and he responds.  Then, on the steps of the Cathedral, Jesus encounters the bier of a young girl of seven who is being carried out for burial.  The crowd begs him to raise her and he does.  Watching from the other side of the street is the Cardinal, the Grand Inquisitor, a tall ascetic man of ninety years who finally orders Jesus’ arrest.

That night, the Inquisitor visits Jesus in jail and describes for him Jesus’ error in presuming that human beings want to be free.  He illustrates this mistake by pointing to the temptation in the desert when Jesus refuses the devil’s solicitations to multiply bread, hurl himself off the temple parapet, and finally reverence Satan himself.  The Inquisitor and those in league with him consider themselves martyrs and heroes for taking upon themselves the “burden” of freedom and relieving human beings of this awful challenge: humans do not want to be free, they want to be safe. Finally, the Inquisitor, having finished his charges against Jesus, opens the cell door. Jesus rises, and still without a word, kisses him and leaves.

The March for Life directly challenges the Grand Inquisitor’s position by appealing to human freedom and compassion in the name, ultimately, of the reality of the passion, death and resurrection of Our Lord Jesus Christ.  The March embodies truth’s call to freedom that is meant to permeate the market place.  It is a witness to the truth that can make human beings free.

Beatitudes ArmstrongD SERMONONTHEMOUNTAs I prepared a presentation some years ago on the Beatitudes, Christmas had been in the background of my thought. The Beatitudes mark the frontier between history and eschatology. They accent the biblical vision of peripateia or “reversal.” We see a newborn child laid in the feeding stall of beasts and then described as the reason for “good tidings of great joy.” The Beatitudes are Jesus’ description and promise of that reversal between what seems to be and what really is and will be, thus between what seems to be good in our blunted vision of reality and what is good now already and will be eternally. As Saint John Paul II once expressed it: “Indeed, each of the Beatitudes promises, from a particular viewpoint, that very ‘good’ which opens man up to eternal life, and indeed is eternal life.” (Veritatis Splendor #16). If we reflect on the mystery of Christmas as expressing the Christian life in all its paradoxical practicality, we will be led to understand the message of the Beatitudes.

Henri de Lubac once wrote: “Paradox is the reverse of what, properly perceived, would be synthesis… Paradox is the search or wait for synthesis.” The Greek word paradoxos can evoke the notion of something strange, wonderful, or remarkable (ex. gr. Lk 5:26). One dictionary gives the following definitions: “A statement contrary to common belief. A statement that seems contradictory, unbelievable, or absurd but that may actually be true in fact. Something inconsistent with common experience or having contradictory qualities.”[1] To call Christmas paradoxical is to say that it is strange and wonderful, almost unbelievable or absurd, even contradictory, but actually true. It is an invitation to rise to a plane of life and understanding where we can experience the synthesis between limit and non-limit. The angel expressed it beautifully:

"Do not be afraid; for behold, I proclaim to you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. 11For today in the city of David a savior has been born for you who is Messiah and Lord. 12And this will be a sign for you: you will find an infant wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger." (Luke 2:10-12)

The paradox of Christmas was brought home to me one Christmas Eve. I was preparing to celebrate Midnight Mass in Bethlehem for some of the local Catholics. The city was, of course, crowded with as many as could fit in the Basilica; Midnight Mass in Bethlehem is an international event. At a few minutes before midnight, there was an explosion. Immediately, armed soldiers appeared and began to scour the city. The tension was electric. Soon, it was discovered that a young man, attempting secretely to put together a bomb, has detonated it and was killed. He himself had become a paradox: his search for peace and freedom became a violent attempt to inflict harm and had led him to a mistaken “search for synthesis.” Let us pray this Christmas that all people understand that the world is changed by love; that the paradox of love, not violence, is the way to peace, and that this is costly:

“Blessed are the courageous peacemakers, they will resemble their Father.” (Matthew 5:9)

 

Fr. Francis Martin (2013)
Edited by Bernadette Harmon (2018)



[1]Webster’s New Universal Unabridged Dictionary (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1983).