“Seven Stanzas at Easter” by John Updike

I’m not a huge poetry guy, but I’ve always been struck by this one: “Seven Stanzas at Easter”, by John Updike. I made use of it last night as I was giving a talk about the liturgical seasons of Lent and Easter. Updike’s poem emphasizes the bodily, corporeal reality of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ. This was a real, historical event, not a metaphor. Christ really rose physically from death, leaving an empty tomb behind. As Saint Paul stresses, “If Christ has not been raised, then our preaching is vain, and and your faith is in vain” (1 Corinthians 15:14). Or, as Updike puts it:

Make no mistake: if He rose at all
it was as His body;
if the cells’ dissolution did not reverse, the molecules
reknit, the amino acids rekindle,
the Church will fall.

It was not as the flowers,
each soft Spring recurrent;
it was not as His Spirit in the mouths and fuddled
eyes of the eleven apostles;
it was as His flesh: ours.

The same hinged thumbs and toes,
the same valved heart
that–pierced–died, withered, paused, and then
regathered out of enduring Might
new strength to enclose.

Let us not mock God with metaphor,
analogy, sidestepping, transcendence;
making of the event a parable, a sign painted in the
faded credulity of earlier ages:
let us walk through the door.

The stone is rolled back, not papier-mâché,
not a stone in a story,
but the vast rock of materiality that in the slow
grinding of time will eclipse for each of us
the wide light of day.

And if we will have an angel at the tomb,
make it a real angel,
weighty with Max Planck’s quanta, vivid with hair,
opaque in the dawn light, robed in real linen
spun on a definite loom.

Let us not seek to make it less monstrous,
for our own convenience, our own sense of beauty,
lest, awakened in one unthinkable hour, we are
embarrassed by the miracle,
and crushed by remonstrance.

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Call No Man “Father”?

Today’s Gospel reading at Mass raises a very common question posed to Catholics:

Jesus spoke to the crowds and to his disciples, saying,
“The scribes and the Pharisees
have taken their seat on the chair of Moses.
Therefore, do and observe all things whatsoever they tell you,
but do not follow their example.
For they preach but they do not practice.
They tie up heavy burdens hard to carry
and lay them on people’s shoulders,
but they will not lift a finger to move them.
All their works are performed to be seen.
They widen their phylacteries and lengthen their tassels.
They love places of honor at banquets, seats of honor in synagogues,
greetings in marketplaces, and the salutation ‘Rabbi.’
As for you, do not be called ‘Rabbi.’
You have but one teacher, and you are all brothers.
Call no one on earth your father;
you have but one Father in heaven.
Do not be called ‘Master’;
you have but one master, the Christ.
The greatest among you must be your servant.
Whoever exalts himself will be humbled;
but whoever humbles himself will be exalted.”

-Mt 23:1-12

If Jesus condemns calling any man “father”, how is it that Catholics call their priests “Father”? For the answer, click here.

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Day of Recollection at the Newman Centre

This past Saturday, I was the speaker at the Newman Centre at the University of Toronto for a Lenten Day of Recollection. The topic was “Conversion”.

Here I am (2nd from L, rockin’ the new goatee, no less!) with Josh Canning (far L) from the Newman Centre staff, Fr Kenneth LeBlanc (2nd from R, and a fellow Maritimer, I might add) from the Legionaries of Christ, who preached an excellent homily at the Mass he celebrated for us, and one of the participants. It really was a great day, and many thanks to Josh and to the rest of the Newman Centre crew for making the event such a success.

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The Theology of the Body in Genesis

Today’s First Reading at Mass was taken from Genesis. It features what Pope John Paul II would call the key to understanding what came to be known as the “Theology of the Body”, John Paul’s legendary catechesis on human sexuality and embodiment.

This key is the phrase, “The man and his wife were both naked, and felt no shame”. Why is this so crucial? To understand, we must revisit an earlier work of Karol Wojtyla/John Paul II, “Love and Responsibility”. The key thought in this book is that to love is the very opposite of what it means to use someone. Love is a total gift of oneself. This is exactly what Adam and Eve experienced before the Fall. The very pattern if their bodies demanded that they seek to be a self-gift to the beloved.

But after sin entered the world, lust entered the world. Adam and Eve instinctively cover themselves (prior to this, they had not even realized they were naked) with fig leaves (the original “Fruit of the Loom” underwear). Why? Christopher West, a well-known commentator on the TOB, puts it this way. Lust is sexual desire, devoid of the love of God. It is sexual desire (which is good and God-given in itself) misdirected. It is a desire which no longer seeks to give oneself completely to the beloved, but to take, to use the other as a mere object.

The cross of Christ is the very opposite of this. It is by contemplating the crucifix, and the supreme self-offering of the New Adam, Jesus, to his bride, the Church, that we understand what love truly is. And it is from the power of the cross that we derive, through the sacraments, the strength to imitate that love.

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Re: Anglicans to consider opening communion to unbaptized

Call it an Anglican communion confusion. Charles Lewis, writing in today’s National Post cover story, tells us that “Canadian Anglicans will hold discussions this spring about whether baptism is necessary for taking part in communion – questioning a requirement of Christianity that has existed for 2,000 years.”

The reason? Numbers are down! The Anglican communion in Canada has been bleeding members for years. According to the Post article, the organization is down to only 500,000 members, whereas it had 1.3 million only decades ago. The hope is that another attempted Anglican change of the rules of the game will attract more fans.

I’m reminded of the wise words of Peter Kreeft, who once noted that the Catholic Church is always being accused of trying to impose some sort of a draconian authority over its members, but the reality is that other Christian communities actually claim far, far more authority for themselves than does the Catholic Church.

How so? Kreeft says that these communities are constantly changing the teachings of Christ to suit their own needs and whims, but the Catholic Church does not – and cannot – do so. She simply doesn’t have the authority. She is not free to alter the teachings of her Lord. Kreeft says that “authority”, after all, means “author’s rights”. We are not the authors of Christ’s teaching, and we are not free to edit it – we’re only the mail carriers. Our job is simply to pass on the teaching of Christ intact to the next generation, unpopular though it may be.

But, even if Anglicans do open up their communion table to all, our Lord won’t be offended in the least. After all, Anglicans haven’t had valid Holy Orders for centuries. They may think they have a valid eucharist, but without validly ordained priests and bishops, it can never be the Eucharist – the true Body and Blood of Christ. Deep down, many Anglicans realize this, just as Cardinal John Henry Newman did before coming home to the Catholic Church. He noted that the leftover, and allegedly consecrated, communion elements from a service were summarily dumped in the trash. He realized that this could not possibly be the Eucharist the early Christians spoke of – no matter who gets to partake of it. And no amount of misguided marketing could ever change that fact.

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The Apostolic Origins of Priestly Celibacy

The old joke is still funny: Why did Peter deny Jesus? Peter was still mad that Jesus healed his mother-in-law. All kidding aside, many non-Catholics look at the indisputable fact that Peter had a mother-in-law (who was indeed healed by Jesus in Mark 1:30-31), and therefore must have had a wife, and consider the Catholic practice of clerical celibacy  – well, a bad joke. They ask, “How can the Catholic Church require priestly celibacy when it’s clear that at least Peter – and possibly other Apostles – were married?”

Today’s Gospel sheds light on both the Catholic practice in general, and Peter’s particulars. This is good evidence that Jesus himself required his apostles to share his way of life:

Peter began to say to Jesus,
‘We have given up everything and followed you.”
Jesus said, “Amen, I say to you,
there is no one who has given up house or brothers or sisters
or mother or father or children or lands
for my sake and for the sake of the Gospel
who will not receive a hundred times more now in this present age:
houses and brothers and sisters
and mothers and children and lands,
with persecutions, and eternal life in the age to come.
But many that are first will be last, and the last will be first.”

– Mark 10:28-31

The fact of the matter is that many clerics were ordained as married men in the early Church, but here’s the thing: they were required to be continent (abstain from marital relations) after ordination. There’s plenty of evidence that this practice dates to the Apostolic age and continued in both East and West. Strong documentation is found in Christian Cochini’s The Apostolic Origins of Priestly Celibacy, and Stefan Heid’s Celibacy in the Early Church, both published by Ignatius Press. Wives of potential clerics had to agree to such a change, or the ordination could not be carried out.

Peter, as Jesus indicated, left his wife and family home behind to follow Jesus more closely, as the Apostolic band roamed the countryside of Galilee. But this did not in any way indicate that he cruelly abandoned his bride, if she was indeed still living at the time. The extended family unit was paramount in Eastern cultures of the time, as it still is in many cases today. Many family members would often live under the same roof, and Mark notes that the healing of Peter’s mother-in-law occurred at Peter’s home in Capernaum. Peter’s wife would have been cared for. It is hardly imaginable that Jesus, who so despised divorce (which left women in a very precarious economic predicament in those days), would have advocated a cold dismissal of one’s spouse in order to be an Apostle.

Recently, the prominent canon lawyer Edward Peters has argued that the Church should return to her historical roots and that all clerics in higher orders, including permanent deacons (who currently are not required to do this), should observe the ancient practice of clerical continence. You can read his take here.

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