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Saint Teresa of Avila, part 3

15 June 2024

Saint Teresa of Avila, Part 3 | The Year of Prayer

By Joey Belleza, PhD (Cantab.)

Proceeding along in our focus on St Teresa of Avila, we come to her third stage of prayer, which she likens to watering a garden from a river or spring. Unlike the first two stages—drawing from a well and using a water mill—in this stage, the difficulty is taken away almost completely, since a natural source of water supplies the garden by its own power. Here, the faculties of intellect and will are almost in complete harmony and union with God, receiving his consolation in greater measure while expending little effort. The soul reaches a level of humility surpassing that gained in the Prayer of Quiet, for “it sees clearly that it has done nothing at all of itself save to consent that the Lord shall grant it favours and to receive them with its will” (The Life of Teresa, ch. 17).

This third stage of prayer corresponds to the fifth of the seven mansions described by Teresa in The Interior Castle. The fifth mansion, marked by the “prayer of simple union,” is marked by the realization that a greater peace is bestowed when the soul no longer competes against God, but comes to work in cooperation with God, even if the soul does not understand the full extent and measure of God’s wisdom and love. In The Life of Teresa, this means that the memory and imagination remain free but operate in conjunction with God’s goodness, such that the mind continues to work toward contemplation of God throughout the experiences of life. Whereas in the previous stage, the soul rests in the “holy repose which belongs to Mary [of Bethany],” in the third stage this holy repose “can also be that of Martha” (The Life of Teresa, ch. 17). The active life is brought up into the contemplative life, and the synthesis of these two states represents a true flowering of the garden. “Already the flowers are opening: they are beginning to send out their fragrance” (The Life of Teresa, ch. 16).

Notice that, for Teresa, an increasing mystical union with God does not mean forgetting one’s place in the world in a flight from everyday existence, but in a virtuous growth that allows one to live well, no matter one’s state of life. Fortified by the life of prayer, the virtues are made incarnate in our own daily deeds, and the mind does not cease contemplating the things of God through the works of creation. In this mystical union, “the soul realizes that the will is captive and rejoicing, and that it alone is experiencing great quiet, while, on the other hand, the intellect and the memory as so free that they can attend to business and do works of charity” (The Life of Teresa, ch. 17). This description corresponds to the sixth mansion in The Interior Castle, wherein the gift of heavenly contemplation given to Teresa is poured forth and continues during her daily labours and tasks in the monastery.

In this Year of Prayer, let us consider what Teresa teaches us in this third stage. The mystic’s ascent to God through prayer involves the concretization of the life of virtue. Mysticism is not merely a heightened sense of self-awareness, nor an abstract emotional or affective state, nor elevation into a state of rapture alone. Instead, the life of prayer, fed directly by streams of living water flowing from the side of Christ, brings forth its flowers and fruit in the Spiritual and Corporal Works of Mercy. By doing so, we follow Christ’s own synthesis of the Law and Prophets, expressed in his two great commandments: to love God above all, and to love our neighbours as ourselves.

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Contemplating Corpus Christi with Raphael

Contemplating Corpus Christi with Raphael

Dr Joey Belleza
Raphael's Disputation of the Holy Sacrament in the Stanza della Segnatura, Vatican City. Photo by Ricardo André Frantz, CC-BY-4.0

The Solemnity of Corpus Christi – and moreover the 760th anniversary of its institution, celebrated today in many countries and in the UK this Sunday – is, as ever, an occasion to take up with joy that interior pilgrimage from human reason to divine faith, in the contemplation of the Eucharistic Lord.

The centrality of this tremendous and beautiful mystery to our Catholic Faith, as the Second Vatican Council was at pains to underscore, is no less true now than it was when Pope Urban IV instituted the solemnity in 1264.

Indeed, today’s world is in particular need of concrete and visible reminders of the sacred. The expression we give to our Eucharistic faith in our liturgies, in our processions, in our artistic endeavours is a witness to Christ himself.

The solemnity of Corpus Christi is an opportunity to express our inexhaustible desire to do everything we can to honour the Incarnate Word in, as Saint Thomas wrote, corda, voces, et opera: [in] our hearts, voices and deeds.

Set against this background, Raphael Sanzio’s Stanza della Signatura in the Vatican, with its two frescoes of The School of Athens and The Disputation on the Sacrament, offers a rich context for philosophical and theological reflection.

In the School, a host of ancient philosophers surround the central figures of Plato and Aristotle, who walk along the central path. Plato’s upward index finger contrasts with Aristotle’s outstretched and downward facing hand, the former gesturing to the truth of eternal Forms, the latter appealing to the reality of the sensible world.

Raphael places them centrally and side-by-side, neither overtaking the other, both sharing a joint if incomplete priority in the philosophic pantheon. The central vanishing point of the fresco – where their gazes meet – is not simply the midpoint between the two, but looks toward an ever-present “beyond” lying ahead.

This central confrontation between Platonic idealism and Aristotelian realism, however, leads not to an unresolved tension, but to an implicit yet powerful conclusion, for directly across the stanza, on the corresponding point in the Disputation – opposite the point between the faces of Plato and Aristotle – Raphael places the Blessed Sacrament.

Raphael's School of Athens in the Stanza della Segnatura, Vatican City. Photo by Ricardo André Frantz, CC-BY-4.0

The host containing the presence of the Incarnate Word is found within the dialectical exchange between the two great philosophers, such that Christ himself – specifically the Eucharistic Christ – is the vanishing point on which philosophical knowledge must converge.

On the one hand, the philosophical enterprise shown in the School and epitomised in the joint pilgrimage of Plato and Aristotle, has its own beauty and purpose. The other philosophers surrounding them, likewise striving toward the truth, are not mere ambassadors of error but important signposts on the way to the fulness of wisdom.

Even Thomas Aquinas, one of whose best-known contributions is a series of “proofs” for God’s existence, understood that philosophy indeed grasps something of the highest truth – the existence of a God above all being – through its own methods, without the explicit aid of grace. But, he admits, of this God we can know very little. Whether he saves us or acts in history or takes flesh is beyond the purview of mere reason.

For this reason, Raphael depicts the School indoors – some say in a building resembling the unfinished “new” Basilica of Saint Peter – as if to emphasise that philosophy has a ceiling, or that its highest aspiration can only be that of a church under construction. And the God of this church remains as impersonal and un-concrete as the space between Plato and Aristotle.

And yet, significantly, their gaze is also half-turned to the opposite wall where the Blessed Sacrament stands on an altar, surrounded not by pagan philosophers but by bishops and Doctors of the Church.

Above the monstrance, the risen Christ is seated in glory and is flanked by the great figures of Scripture. The hand gestures of the several Saints and Doctors mirror both the upward gesture of Plato (this time pointing to Christ in heaven) as well as the downward palm of Aristotle (here pointing to Christ in the sacramental species).

In a sense, the dialectic between idealism and realism is not abandoned in the theological vision of the Disputation; rather the operations of philosophy are taken up and elevated into the realm of faith and theology, such that what appears to be a confrontation in philosophy is brought to a synthesis in theology.

And this unity of the two disciplines – of natural reason and supernatural faith – is joined together in the little host which contains the Incarnate Word himself. The School and Disputation, taken together, convey how the Eucharistic liturgy is “the summit to which all the Church’s work is directed” (Sacrosanctum Concilium 10). It is a summit which has no ceiling but reaches upward toward the enthroned Christ in heaven.

The Eucharist is also the “font from which all the Church’s power flows” (Sacrosanctum Concilium 10). The outpouring of this power, celebrated in a truly Eucharistic way of life, generates a vibrant Christian culture, expressed in art, architecture, and music that can stir hearts to devotion and love of the Creator, and which can assist others in making the interior pilgrimage from reason alone to reason-with-faith.

As Raphael shows us, the treasury of sacred art is one concrete example of the ways in which people offer back to God the gifts of his own creation, just as the Eucharist itself is offered, as the Roman Canon says, “from the gifts which [God] has given us”. Raphael’s own work, imbued with a deep sacramental sensibility, is but one example of the splendour of sacred art rooted in devotion to the Eucharist.

This splendour is also seen in the many little processions happening in parishes and communities all over the world to mark the Solemnity of Corpus Christi.

People make carpets out of sand and flowers to mark Corpus Christi in the town of La Orotava on the Spanish Canary Island of Tenerife, 27 June 2019. (Photo credit DESIREE MARTIN/AFP via Getty Images.)

The colourful floral displays covering the streets in Spain, Italy and Portugal; the wealth of sacred music composed for this feast; the Eucharistic verses of Aquinas himself, monuments of medieval Latin poetry; and of course, the processions which mark this great Solemnity – all these are manifestations of that same interior pilgrimage toward an ever-increasing faith in the Lord who, as the Collect of the feast says, “left us under this Sacrament a memorial of the passion”.

Of course, one need not be a Renaissance master to express one’s faith in the Eucharistic Christ; one only need to heed Saint Thomas’s admonition in Lauda Sion, the sequence prescribed for the Mass to celebrate the Feast of Corpus Christi: quantum potes, tamtum aude – “dare to do as much as you can”.

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Saint Teresa of Avila, part 2

28 May 2024

Saint Teresa of Avila, Part 2 | The Year of Prayer

By Joey Belleza, PhD (Cantab.)

In the previous instalment, we introduced the four stages of prayer according to Saint Teresa of Avila, which she likens to four ways of watering a garden. The first stage, compared to the laborious act of drawing water from a well, requires the most effort: perseverance in the habit of prayer requires a habituation to its discipline and a concurrent struggle against the acedia or laziness which might hinder our ascent to God. One must face this initial stage of difficulty with courage and with joy, knowing that our endurance in the present will reap rewards in the future.

In this reflection, we consider the second stage of prayer, which Teresa likens to drawing water from a windlass or water mill. Once the trials of the first stage are passed, one advances in prayer with a little more ease, making use of a machine that draws water by harnessing the forces of nature. Here, the Lord grants more supernatural consolations as a recompense for the struggles of the first stage. The soul is now permitted to enter what Teresa calls “the Prayer of Quiet” or “Devotion of Peace,” a state which she describes as

a recollecting of the faculties of the soul [i.e., the intellect and the will], so that its fruition of that contentment may be of greater delight. But the faculties are not lost, nor do they sleep. The will alone is occupied in such a way that, without knowing how, it becomes captive. It allows itself to be imprisoned by God, as one who knows well itself to be the captive of Whom it loves. (The Life of Saint Teresa, chapter 14).

In other words, the intellect is no longer struggling to understand the reason why one ought to pray, as it may have done in the first stage. Rather, the intellect “rests” in its understanding of the new consolations which it enjoys in the present stage. The will, on the other hand, continues to love God, and this desire for him never ceases. This unceasing reach toward God is no longer a laborious struggle but a contentedness in recognizing that one’s humble position before God. Indeed, the will of human person becomes so completely conformed to the will of Father in imitation of Christ, that the Christian no longer struggles with competing desires. Rather, by uniting one’s desires to the desires of God, the false allure of competing desires is erased, and the soul more efficiently draws from wellspring of salvation.

In our prayer lives, let us seek the consolations gained by uniting our will to the will of God. As Christ taught to pray “thy will be done” in the Lord’s prayer, we live out that petition concretely by actively discerning God’s will and ordering our desires according to his heart. In doing so, we might enter the Devotion of Peace, and realize the truth which Dante Alighieri came to recognize in Paradiso: E ‘n la la sua voluntade è nostra pace—“in His will is our peace.”

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St Teresa and St Therese

Diaconal retreat

St Teresa & St Therese:
A Comparison in Prayer

Friday 4th - Sunday 6th October [2024]

A retreat for permanent deacons, to include spouses, examining the teachings of St Teresa and St Therese on the life of prayer

Preached by Fr Michael Miners, OCDS of the Diocese of Birmingham

As the Year of Prayer progresses, this retreat will be an opportunity to re-engage with two, towering figures of the interior life: St Teresa of Avila and St Therese of Lisieux. At a time when the faithful are continually and increasingly called to prayer for peace in the world and for the conversion of hearts, the retreat will aim to offer nourishment for both the deacon’s own life of prayer and for his ministry of preaching.

The retreat will make particular use of the “Interior Castle” to examine St Teresa of Avila’s understanding of prayer, comparing this with the influence of St John of the Cross in St Therese’s writings.

The option is also available to arrive the day before, on Thursday evening, and to extend the retreat with a further 24 hours of private recollection or time out.

  • The retreat is offered specifically for permanent deacons, married or unmarried
  • Deacons’ wives are welcome to attend and participate
  • Single and twin rooms are available on a first come, first served basis
  • The retreat will be preached, with opportunities for confession.
  • The retreat timetable will include daily Mass, a Holy Hour and Compline.
  • Option to arrive on Thursday for an extra 24 hours of private recollection

Father Michael Miners o.c.d.s was born in Blackburn in 1953. He read theology at St Johns College, Durham, becoming a Catholic there in 1974. He undertook postgraduate research in Durham and then at Keble College, Oxford, before joining Ushaw College Seminary. He was ordained as a priest of the Order of Discaled Carmelites in 1984. Fr Michael has worked in both parish ministry and in formation as a novice master and master of students. He edited the Spiritual Journal “Mount Carmel” for eight years, and has a long experience of preaching retreats and offering Spiritual Direction. After five years as Catholic Chaplain at Keele University (1993-1998) he became a priest of the Archdiocese of Birmingham. Fr Michael lectures in Ecumenism at Oscott College and was Chair of the Diocesan Ecumenism Commission.

Theodore House offers a wonderful venue for any retreat. The tranquil and beautiful surroundings of the Stonyhurst estate offer a peaceful setting and endless opportunities for walks.

All accommodation is en-suite, with comfortable facilities and a beautifully lanscaped garden.

For more information about Theodore House, please click here.

For those arriving on Thursday, check in is available from 3pm onwards.

Arrivals are welcome on the Friday from 3pm for a 6pm start.

Departures on Sunday are from 3pm.

Cost:

Retreat only

Single room: £230 per person*

Twin room: £330 per couple*

*includes full board from Friday dinner to Sunday lunch

Thursday + Retreat

Single room: £325 per person*

Twin room: £460 per couple*

*includes full board from Thursday dinner to Sunday lunch

Please register below (£50 deposit payment per person required):
Venue & Getting to us:

If you are reliant on public transport, please consider traveling by train to Preston train station. From there, we aim to co-ordinate minicab shares or lifts amongst participants of any given event. If you require further advice or assistance, email us: [email protected]

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The Fatherhood of the Priest

Clergy retreat

The Fatherhood of the Priest

Monday 28th April - Friday 2nd May [2025]

“I became your father in Christ Jesus through the Gospel”

Preached by Fr Jose Granados, Superior General of the Disciples of the Hearts of Jesus and Mary and Vice-President emeritus of the Pontifical John Paul II Institute for Studies in Marriage and Family Life

What does it mean for a man to become a father? And how does Christian fatherhood inform the priesthood?

The priesthood today faces a duplicate challenge: that of the priest’s identity before a secular world, and that of adequately understanding masculinity in a post-modern society.

In this retreat, Fr Jose Granados, dcmj, will first offer a theological reflection on the nature of fatherhood, before moving to the novelty of the Christian fatherhood inaugurated by Christ, in order to finally consider the priesthood as a Sacrament of the Father.

Fr Granados is a widely respected sacramental theologian, a consultor to multiple Vatican dicasteries, author of numerous articles and volumes, as well as an experienced pastor and formator.

  • Secular and religious clergy, deacons and seminarians welcome
  • The retreat will be preached, with opportunities for confession.
  • Clergy are welcome to celebrate Mass individually at their own time or to concelebrate, using both Theodore House Oratory and St Peter’s Church.
  • Daily Holy Hour and Compline.

Rev. José Granados, dcjm, is the Superior General of the Disciples of the Hearts of Jesus and Mary and co-founder and president of The Veritas Amoris Project

Fr. Granados earned a Doctorate of Theology from the Pontifical Gregorian University, Rome (2004, Bellarmine Award). He also holds a degree in Industrial Engineering from the Pontifical University of Comillas (ICAI), Madrid. He teaches theology of marriage at St. John Vianney Theological Seminary (Denver, CO) and at the Séminaire International d’Ars (France).

From 2004 to 2009 Fr. Granados taught dogmatic theology at the Pontifical John Paul II Institute for Studies on Marriage and Family at The Catholic University of America. From 2010 to 2019 Fr. Granados was the Vice President and Professor of Dogmatic Theology at the Pontifical John Paul II Institute, Central See (Rome). He is a member of the scientific council of the journals Revista española de teología and Gregorianum

He has been a consultor for the Congregation of the Doctrine of Faith (2013-2020), to the Dicastery for the Laity, the Family and Life (2018-2023), and to the Secretariat of the Synod of Bishops (2015-2020).

He has authored several publications including; “An Introduction to Sacramental Theology. Signs of Christ in the Flesh”, CUA Press, Washington, DC 2021; “Una sola carne en un solo Espíritu. Teología del matrimonio,” Palabra, Madrid 2014; “La carne si fa amore. Il corpo, cardine della storia della salvezza,” Cantagalli, Siena 2010. Rev. Granados is co-author, with Carl Anderson, of “Called to Love: Approaching John Paul II’s Theology of the Body.”

Theodore House offers a wonderful venue for any retreat. The tranquil and beautiful surroundings of the Stonyhurst estate offer a peaceful setting and endless opportunities for walks.

All accommodation is en-suite, with comfortable facilities and a beautifully lanscaped garden.

For more information about Theodore House, please click here.

Arrivals are welcome on the Monday from 1pm for a 3pm start.

Departures on Friday are from 3pm.

Cost:

£440 (includes single, en-suite room and full board)

If you require assistance in meeting the costs of the retreat, please contact [email protected]

Please register below (£50 deposit payment required):

 
Venue & Getting to us:

If you are reliant on public transport, please consider traveling by train to Preston train station. From there, we aim to co-ordinate minicab shares or lifts amongst participants of any given event. If you require further advice or assistance, email us: [email protected]

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Pentecost and the Seven Gifts

19 May 2024

Pentecost and the Seven Gifts of the Spirit

By Joey Belleza, PhD (Cantab.)

In many churches on Pentecost, Catholics will hear sung the Veni Sancte Spiritus, a short poetic text which was one of the four sequences retained in the Roman Rite by Saint Pius V, and whose usage continues today. Addressing the Holy Spirit directly, the penultimate stanza of this text reads:

Da tuis fidelibus
in te confidentibus
sacrum septenarium.

Grant to your faithful ones
who confide in you
the sacred sevenfold gift.

This is a reference to the Seven Gifts of the Holy Spirit, which have been acknowledged from ancient times in the Church, but whose specific enumeration actually derives from the Old Testament.

A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse;
from his roots a Branch will bear fruit.
The Spirit of the Lord will rest on him:
the Spirit of wisdom and of understanding,
the Spirit of counsel and of fortitude,
the Spirit of the knowledge and of piety, and he will delight in the fear of the Lord

(Isaiah 11:1-2)

As the above text shows, these gifts are first bestowed from all eternity upon the Root of Jesse, who is the prefigured Messiah of Israel. Christ therefore has these gifts in their fulness, as the eternal Second Person of the Trinity. How has the Catholic tradition come to understand these gifts in relation to us?

The gift of understanding empowers us to cognize the truths of the Christian faith not simply as abstract propositions, but to believe them as intuitively and firmly as we know the first principles of natural reason, like the principle of non-contradiction, or the fact that 1 + 1 = 2.

The gift of wisdom empowers us, following the truths given in understanding, to judge correctly the application of the faith in concrete circumstances.

The gift of knowledge empowers us to truly act in real, specific situations according to that right cognition and right judgment given in the previous two gifts.

The gift of counsel builds on the previous three gifts, allowing us to pass on what we have learned through understanding, wisdom, and knowledge for the sake of other persons

The gift of fortitude empowers us to act well whenever attaining a good or avoiding evil becomes difficult.

The gift of piety makes us disposed to honour those from whom we derive the principles of our being, and is thus related to the Fourth Commandment. We not only honour our parents, from whom we proximately receive life, but we also honour our families and our country, insofar as it they are realities beyond ourselves which sustain our common life.

Finally, the gift of fear of the Lord is related to the First and Second Commandments: we honour and worship God as the source and creator of all things. This fear is not a fear of danger, but a respectful and humble recognition of our status as creatures before God. It is also the most fundamental of the gifts, for example as Proverbs 9 reminds us: “Fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.”

During this great Solemnity of Pentecost and in the days following, let us again beg the Holy Spirit for these sevenfold gifts, that they might be invigorated in us as when they were first given on the day of our Confirmation. By remaining in these gifts, may we more closely conform ourselves to Christ, the Root of Jesse who binds us to the Father, and thereby we might enter ever deeper into the mystery of the Triune God, which we celebrate next week on Trinity Sunday.

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Saint Teresa of Avila, part 1

18 May 2024

Saint Teresa of Avila, Part 1 | The Year of Prayer

By Joey Belleza, PhD (Cantab.)

In the next four instalments, we will look at prayer through the eyes of another great Doctor of the Church, the Spanish mystic and founder of the Discalced Carmelites, Saint Teresa of Avila. Born in 1515 and died in 1582, Teresa lived in a time wherein the Church in Europe was shaken by both the Protestant Reformation and by internal crises, and was in desperate need of reform. Such external tumult is often the sign of a severe spiritual malaise, and Saint Teresa responded to the crisis of her era through a deep attachment to the power of prayer, understanding this to be the only effective counter to the spiritual needs of the Church.

She considers prayer in her two major works, namely, the autobiographical Life of Teresa of Jesus and her devotional-mystical work The Interior Castle. In the following reflections on Saint Teresa and prayer, we will focus principally on insights from The Life of Teresa, with occasional references to the Interior Castle.

Particularly, we will look at the analogy Teresa offers in her autobiography of the development of the life of prayer. She considers four ways to water a garden, which are likened to four stages through which one’s life of prayer grows.

It seems to me that the garden can be watered in four ways: [1] by taking the water from a well, which costs us great labour; or [2] by a water wheel and buckets, when the water is drawn by a windlass (I have sometimes drawn it in this way: it is less laborious and gives more water; or [3] by a stream or brook, which waters the ground much better, for it saturates the ground more thoroughly; or [4] by heavy rain, when the Lord waters it with no labour of ours, a way incomparably better than any of this which have been described. (The Life of Teresa, Chapter 11)

The first stage, like drawing water from a well, is like the first stage of prayer. Put very simply, Teresa is saying that beginners in the life of prayer must work hard to make a habit of its practices, “because they have become accustomed to a life of distraction.” Distractions in prayer are familiar to all of us, but this can perhaps be understood at a deeper level too: the less one prays, the less one is focussed on the spiritual realm and the more one’s mind is occupied by the earthly. We are therefore not only more distracted when we come to pray, but we are also less motivated, insofar as we have not convinced ourselves sufficiently of the importance of prayer by the fact of not putting it into practice. Building up this habit of doing something that is not yet deeply embedded in our psyche as a necessary part of our daily life is hard work.

Indeed, for many days, one may experience “aridity, dislike, distaste, and so little desire to go and draw water that he would give it up entirely.” Yet, just as Christ endured the suffering of the Cross, the Christian is called to endure the little crosses of this first stage, confident that such labour is pleasing to God and thus truly important. As Teresa says of her own experience, “it is quite certain that a single one of those hours in which the Lord has granted me to taste of Himself has seemed to me a later recompense for all the afflictions which I endured over a long period while keeping up the practice of prayer.” Similarly, we can be confident that the fruits of prayer, especially those that emerge later on, will make the earlier struggles entirely worthwhile. And what greater model is there for this perseverance than Christ’s Passion, without which the fruits of Easter and Pentecost, which we have only just finished celebrating, would not have been possible.

Our present day also has crises of its own, and the Church is in no less need of faithful witnesses supported by steadfast prayer in order to enlighten a world that seeks solutions in human wisdom alone. Let us also persevere in our own lives of prayer, so that the difficulties we endure and the struggle we engage in presently might lead to the same future recompense granted to Teresa.

In the following instalments, we will focus on the successive three stages of prayer according to Saint Teresa.

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The Ascension of Our Lord

10 May 2024

The Ascension of the Lord

By Joey Belleza, PhD (Cantab.)

In an essay written before his election as Pope (but published in English in 2006), Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger briefly commented on a certain artistic motif which is often seen in paintings of Christ’s Ascension.

You are surely familiar with all those precious, naïve images in which only the feet of Jesus are visible, sticking out of the cloud, at the heads of the apostles. The cloud, for its part, is a dark circle on the perimeter; on the inside, however, blazing light. It occurs to me that precisely in the apparent naïveté of this representation something very deep comes into view. All we see of Christ in the time of history are his feet and the cloud. His feet—what are they?

We are reminded, first of all, of a peculiar sentence from the Resurrection account in Matthew’s Gospel, where it is said that the women held onto the feet of the Risen Lord and worshipped him. As the Risen One, he towers over earthly proportions. We can still only touch his feet; and we touch them in adoration. Here we could reflect that we come as worshippers, following his trail, close to his footsteps. Praying, we go to him; praying, we touch him, even if in this world, so to speak, always only from below, only from afar, always only on the trail of his earthly steps. At the same time it becomes clear that we do not find the footprints of Christ when we look only below, when we measure only footprints and want to subsume faith in the obvious. The Lord is movement toward above, and only in moving ourselves, in looking up and ascending, do we recognize him.

When we read the Church Fathers something important is added. The correct ascent of man occurs precisely where he learns, in humbly turning toward his neighbour, to bow very deeply, down to his feet, down to the gesture of the washing of feet. It is precisely humility, which can bow low, that carries man upward. This is the dynamic of ascent that the feast of the Ascension wants to teach us.

From “The Ascension: The Beginning of a New Nearness,” in Joseph Ratzinger, Images of Hope: Meditations on Major Feasts (Ignatius Press, 2006).

The future pope’s observations are, as one can expect, spot on. The theme of humility, seen in the washing of the feet at the Last Supper, the anointing of Christ’s feet by Mary Magdalene, and in the thanksgiving of the blind man healed by Christ are certainly operative in the traditional depiction of the Ascension, wherein the Apostles gaze upon the feet of the ascending Lord until he is taken from their sight. In this way, the apostles of the Lord, to include all who follow him, are invited to adopt a posture of humility before him, and in doing so, make his love present on earth even as he ascends bodily to the right hand of the Father. However, the profound insight of the Christian artistic tradition goes even deeper, reaching into the riches of the Old Testament and in doing so illuminating the data of revelation given in the New. To understand this, we must return to the book of Exodus (chs. 19-31), wherein Moses ascends the holy mountain to speak with God and to receive his commandments.

Whenever Moses goes up the mountain, the people must remain in the camp. Only Moses and Aaron, along with Nadab, Abihu, and seventy elders of Israel can accompany him. But these can only ascend partially; Moses alone is allowed to enter the cloud of the divine presence to converse with God. Meanwhile, Aaron and the elders remain at a distance some way up the mountain, where they must wait for Moses to return. Moses, therefore, is the first mediator between God and Israel as a whole, while Aaron and the elders mediate between Moses and the people in the camp.

Following important interpreters such as the Jewish writer Philo of Alexandria and Saint Gregory of Nyssa, the pseudonymous sixth century Greek-Syrian writer known as “Dionysius the Areopagite” reads the ascent of Moses as an allegory for both the ascent of the mystic to God as well as for the structure of the Church. In his brief treatise Mystical Theology, Dionysius interprets Moses as a high priestly character who mediates God’s revelation with the aid of elders or lower priests, who in turn communicate God’s power to the people. The “place” (topos) where the elders stop while Moses continues to ascend is understood by Dionysius, using ideas adapted from Neoplatonic philosophy, as the “place” of God’s powers, where the perfections of created being (such as goodness, unity, and truth) first emanate from God. Dionysius calls this the place “of the presence of that which walks upon the intelligible summits of the most holy places.” Deciphering his densely Platonic language may be difficult for the average reader, but here Dionysius simply means that this “place” where God walks is not identical to God himself, who is higher than any place. This intermediate location between the camp and the summit is also the place of the priests or elders, who form the bridge between Moses and the rest of the nation.

Moses must leave behind Aaron and the elders in this “place” before ascending to the cloud-draped summit of the holy mountain. Christ, as the new Moses, likewise enters into the clouds of heaven on the day of his Ascension, but he leaves behind a new set of elders–the Apostles–who continually mediate his presence to those who remain in the camp of the Church. The Christian artists who depicted the paintings of Christ’s feet at the Ascension certainly understood this ancient interpretive tradition very well. More than mere “precious, naive images,” the paintings of the Apostles looking at Christ’s feet recalls the ascent of Moses up the holy mountain, situating those first followers of Christ in the “place” of Aaron and the elders. They who were at the “place” where the incarnate God walked now continue to mediate God’s presence to us through their successors, who dispense the sacramental ministry of the Church. At the same time, those called to ordained ministry ought to be mindful of their place: they must exemplify the perfections of unity, truth, and goodness which they receive as sacramental emanations from the God above.

The great Solemnity of the Ascension, therefore, is not simply about a single event which closed the earthly mission of Christ. Rather, it points to the new mode of his enduring presence on earth through those who sat at his feet and followed where he trod. It is a key step in the development of the Church, which was already established in its basic form at the Last Supper, and which will be sent forth to all the world through the descent of the Holy Spirit on Pentecost. Through the Apostles who humbly remain low at his feet, the revelation first given to Moses and brought to fulfilment in Christ flows down from the mountain of God to the ends of the earth, and accordingly the final words of Christ to the Apostles continue to ring true in his Church: “Behold, I am with you always, even until the end of the age.”

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Our Lady, the Rosary and the Litte Office

1 May 2024

Our Lady, the Rosary, and the Little Office | Year of Prayer 2024

By Joey Belleza, PhD (Cantab.)

In our previous instalment, we considered the recitation of the psalms in the daily celebration of the Divine Office, or Liturgy of the Hours. As we enter the month of May—the month of Our Lady—it is now an opportune time to consider the relationship between the Divine Office and the Church’s devotion to the Mother of God.

The New Testament, specifically the Gospel of Luke, records only one “prayer” by the Blessed Virgin Mary: the Magnificat, or the great hymn of praise which she sung upon her Visitation to Elizabeth, her cousin and mother of John the Baptist. This perfect expression of humility and praise from the greatest woman in history has been of such importance to the Church that its recitation or singing occurs every day at the end of Vespers. In its literary form, it is very similar to many of the psalms of praise, and its various statements follow the typical parallelisms of Hebrew rhetoric, wherein two phrases which move in “opposite directions” actually convey the same meaning. For example, “He has cast down the mighty from their thrones, and has lifted up the lowly,” or “He has filled the hungry with good things; the rich he has sent away empty” express God’s power and mercy through the punishment of evil, on the one hand, and the concurrent exaltation of the poor, on the other. Such constructions are also seen in the Song of Hannah, which is itself a hymn of thanksgiving to God for the miraculous pregnancy which yielded the prophet Samuel. Like the psalms and the Song of Hannah, Mary’s Magnificat is a clear link to the heritage of the Old Testament, and the fact that we sing it daily in the Christian liturgy testifies to our enduring link to the faith of Israel. 

While from the early Middle Ages the recitation of the full Psalter according to the one-week cycle was often restricted to priests and religious (who were literate), the ordinary illiterate lay faithful often found ways to participate in daily prayer in their own ways. Repetitions of the Lord’s Prayer or the Hail Mary substituted for the long recitation of each Psalm, and the recitation of 150 Hail Marys (divided into the three sets of mysteries) in place of the 150 Psalms—what we now know as the Rosary—became the laity’s favoured counterpart to the full Divine Office sung by priests and religious. A further development of this practice led to the association of a smaller set of Psalms as mystically signifying some aspect of the Blessed Virgin’s role in salvation history. This became the so-called “Little Office of the Blessed Virgin Mary,” a practice so beloved that by the tenth century, clergy were required to pray the hours of the Little Office in addition to the hours of the full Divine Office. In some religious communities, their members were taught to pray “Our Lady’s Matins” in private upon waking up and while making one’s bed, in order to prepare for the communal recitation of Matins according to the Divine Office. 

In this Year of Prayer, perhaps we might delve into the mysteries of Mary’s life, not only by meditating upon the mysteries of the Rosary, but by exploring those Psalms which the Little Office has set aside for Our Lady. The Little Office might indeed be a way for us to get into the habit of praying the Psalms, so that eventually we might learn to pray the full Divine Office or Liturgy of the Hours with greater ease. In this way, the Psalms which point to the Blessed Virgin might lead us to the recitation of the full Psalter, which is itself a prefiguration of the life of Christ—and thus we might pass, as Saint John Paul II loved to say, ad Iesum per Mariam: to Jesus through Mary.

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The Psalms in the Divine Office

22 April 2024

The Psalms | Year of Prayer 2024

By Joey Belleza, PhD (Cantab.)

In the previous reflection, we considered the collects of the Roman Rite and how they are structured to express the four parts of prayer. Now, we can speak briefly about the Divine Office or Liturgy of the Hours. We can first note how the closing prayer of each hour is the same as the collect for the Mass of the day, such that the four parts of prayer often form an explicit aspect of the recitation of the Hours. However, we can go beyond the collects and think about the defining characteristic of the Hours: psalmody.

The recitation of the Psalms throughout the day (and the traditional practice of chanting all the psalms in a week) not only links us with the Jewish faith into which Christ, his Mother, and the Apostles were born; it moreover gets us thinking about why the Church continues to make the psalms a central part of her daily prayer. But whether we pray the Psalms according to the four-week cycle of the modern Liturgy of the Hours, or if we follow the ancient one-week cycle of the old Divine Office, it remains true that the Psalms govern the daily rhythm of the Church’s life. It is a timeless and in inexhaustible source of inspiration for all Christians. While countless books have already been written on this matter, here we can only make a brief indication.

There is no human emotion that isn’t addressed by a psalm. From joy in victory, exaltation in God’s glory, gratitude, and praising the beauty of the natural world, to dejection in defeat, depression, abandonment, and rage, and the psalms run through the full spectrum of human affectivity. So central were the psalms to the daily life of Christ and the Apostles that they often cite the psalms to make a point. Upon seeing the Lord drive the moneychangers from the Temple, Saint Peter paraphrased Psalm 69: “Zeal for your house will consume me.” When the chief priests and scribes were indignant at the praises of children on Palm Sunday (who themselves were echoing the cries of “Hosannah” from Psalms 118 and 148), Christ rebuked them for not knowing the meaning of Psalm 8: “From the mouths of children and suckling babes you have ordained praise, on account of your adversaries, to silence the enemy and avenger.” Finally, on the cross, one of the Lord’s final words, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me” comes from the beginning of Psalm 22 which, although beginning with a cry of dereliction, ends with a statement of invincible hope and confidence in God’s power.

In this Year of Prayer, let us rediscover the glory of the psalms, to which the Church returns week after week, month after month, to address the breadth of human experience as we encounter the joys and sorrows which mark our earthly life.