Lighting Vigil Candles

Candle lighting is a way of prayer. Long after our attention has moved on to other things, a lit votive candle symbolizes the intention of our love for God in Christ and the presence of our request before heaven. Votive comes from the Latin word votum, meaning vow, but vigil—a much better word for this practice—means watchfulness.

Candles are often set aside in the front or back of churches for this purpose. I will sometimes light one of these at my home parish, either before the service begins or immediately after taking Communion, as a prayer to my grandmother or as a petition for a needy friend. I’ve been lighting a lot of candles, lately.

When used in prayer, a candle can show our persistence and continual desire to be with God, to listen for God’s will, and to seek the intercession of one of the saints. I often use a candle in this spirit in the early morning when I am the only person awake in the house, reading or praying.

Many Christians from all denominations have small spaces called home altars where vigil candles are often kept and used for prayer. Like the psalmist, we may say, “Let my prayer be counted as incense before you, and the lifting up of my hands as an evening sacrifice” (Psalm 141:2).

This is a great practice: Offer a blessing over your candles, sanctifying them for the purpose of prayer. I sometimes use this prayer…

God of light, light to the nations,

light that reaches into all darkness,

use these candles to illuminate us.

May the light of our prayers always be with You,

quietly in Your holy presence,

and may we always be

reflected in Your true Light. Amen.

Repeating the problems of Regensburg

Lucy Pick is so right-on in today’s article in “Sightings,” that I’m going to share it in its entirety, here…

Sightings 10/29/09

 

Back to the Twelfth Century: Peter the Venerable and Pope Benedict XVI

– Lucy K. Pick

 

In his general audience in St. Peter’s Square on October 14th, Pope Benedict gave an address in which he held up the twelfth-century monk and abbot of Cluny, Peter the Venerable, as a model for contemporary Christians, lay and monastic, praising him for his ability to balance both contemplative spirituality and the demands and pressures of the world.  Peter was an unusual choice.  Though the pope associated him with the abbey’s canonized abbots, quoting his papal predecessor Gregory VII that at Cluny, “there was not a single abbot who was not a saint,” Peter in fact was never canonized.  Why select him as a model over other Benedictine contemplative administrators, not least Saint Benedict himself, who could provide the same example of tranquility in the face of turmoil?  What makes Peter stand out from his brethren at this moment in time?

 

Pope Benedict praised Peter in part because, “He showed care and solicitude even for those who were outside the Church, in particular for the Jews and Muslims: to foster knowledge of the latter he had the Quran translated.”  His admiration for Peter’s interest in Jews and Muslims was important enough that the pope repeated it in the much shorter English paraphrase that followed the address.  Peter is indeed well known for his strong and passionate belief in the power of reason to convert Jews and Muslims to Christianity; for his efforts to translate Islamic texts; for his treatises against Jews, Muslims, and heretics – and for his conclusion that those who did not convert when approached with reason were not rational and thus not fully human.

 

When I read this recent address, I immediately recalled the famous, or infamous, address the pope gave three years ago, at the University of Regensburg.  His quotation in this speech of a Christian anti-Islamic polemic that argued that Christianity persuades by reason, while Islam converts only through violence, enraged the Muslim world.  But just as disturbing were the broader claims his speech made about the correct nature of reason. Benedict presented a model of right reason and right faith as both intrinsically united and intrinsically Christian.  “Not to act reasonably, not to act with logos, is contrary to the nature of God,” he proclaimed, quoting his medieval Christian polemicist.  Though the address was framed as an invitation to dialogue with those of other religions, it is necessarily a dialogue of a very particular kind – not dialogue as a free exchange between equal partners, but a dialogue in which Christian reason sets the parameters and limits of the discussion.  It is medieval dialogue, very familiar to Peter the Venerable, used both as a pedagogical genre in which a master instructs a student, and as a way of showing the truth of Christianity in contrast with other religions.

 

The dangers of a dialogue in which its parameters predict its outcome should be evident.  Arguments like these were made in the Middle Ages with horrendous results when Muslims and especially Jews continued in their own paths despite being faced with the “rational” arguments of medieval polemicists.   Convicted of irrationality, non-Christians could easily then be labelled as less than human.  Peter the Venerable himself points the way to this tragic history in his treatise against the Jews in a passage addressing an imagined Jewish interlocutor that is typical, not exceptional:  “It seems to me, Jew, that I have satisfied every man about the questions put to me with many authorities, and much reasoned argument.  And if I have satisfied every man, then also you too, if you are a man.  For I do not dare to call you a man, lest perhaps I lie, since I know that reason, which separates man from the other beasts, is extinguished, nay buried in you…Why should I not call you a brute animal?  Why not a beast, why not an ox?”

 

This is not dialogue that seeks to widen channels of communication between those of different faiths; this is not even dialogue that seeks to convert.  This is a discourse that uses the form of dialogue as a means to define non-Christians and distance them from the community of the faithful. It may be exactly what the pope wants, especially if Ross Douthat’s New York Times opinion column of October 25th is correct that the pope’s recent gesture towards disaffected Anglicans was motivated by his desire to present a united Christian front against the Islamic world.  But it is a radical departure from the way the Roman Catholic Church has approached inter-religious dialogue for decades, and a return to a mode of Catholic self-understanding with a very unhappy past.

 

References:

 

“On Peter the Venerable, abbot of Cluny.” http://www.zenit.org/article-27203?l=english

 

“Papal Address at the University of Regensburg” http://www.zenit.org/article-16955?l=english

 

Ross Douthat, “Benedict’s Gamble,” http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/26/opinion/26douthat.html?_r=2

 

Peter the Venerable.  Adversus Iudeorum inveteratam duritiem. Ed. Yvonne Friedman. Corpus Christianorum, Continuatio Medievalis 58 (Turnhout, 1985)

 

 

Lucy K. Pick is Senior Lecturer in the History of Christianity and Director of Undergraduate Studies at The University of Chicago Divinity School.  With colleagues Jim Robinson and Malika Zeghal, she is organizing a conference open to the public on “Deconstructing Dialogue. New Perspectives on Religious Encounters: Ancient, Medieval, and Modern,” January 21-23, 2010 at the Divinity School.  For more information, see http://divinity.uchicago.edu/martycenter/conferences/dialogue/index.shtml.

Dogmas can be liberating?

My daughter, Sarah-Maria, has started a cool blog (not Catholic and certainly not religious in any way) where she is chronicling her thoughts during a “self-fashioned suicide reading course.” She has just posted a fantastic quote about one of my favorites, G. K. Chesterton. The line is from an essay of the recently-passed, William F. Buckley:

“Chesterton reminds us that many dogmas are liberating because, however much damage they do when abused, it cannot compare with the damage that might have been done had whole peoples not felt their inhibiting influence.”

I’d argue/say the very same thing about religion most broadly, and about the Catholic Church, more specifically.

Abba Moses

A young man visited Abba Moses for a wise word, but the Abba gave him a question instead:

“Why are you here?

Go home. Sit in your cell.

Prayer will teach you everything.”

–from the Sayings of the Desert Fathers and Mothers

Blessing our pets in the spirit of St. Francis…and Judaism?

Francis of Assisi performed the first “Blessing of the Animals” (repeated each early October in churches around the U.S.) almost 800 years ago…. Or did he?

St. Francis preached to the birds, cared for wolves and hens, blessed fish, and used real animals when he created the very first, live, Christmas nativity scene. But was he the first person to bless the animals? Judaism, long home to blessings of all kinds, may have come first.

Many synagogues have their own blessing of the animals ceremonies, and, they say, the idea originated in ancient Judaism. Without reference to St. Francis, the Jewish ceremony is often performed on the seventh day of Passover (in the Spring), as a celebration of the Hebrews’ (and their animals’) emancipation from slavery in Egypt more than 3,000 years ago.

But also, many Jewish congregations schedule blessings of the animals in the Fall after the High Holy Days, centering their ceremony around the second weekly Torah portion of the Jewish New Year: Noah’s Ark. This is the occasion of God’s covenant with humanity to never again destroy creation.

Congregation Beth Simchat Torah in Greenwich Village has their blessing planned for this Friday night. I’m looking forward to being there.

Mother Teresa’s Bones

Mother Teresa’s bones are making news. The Albanian government (not usually heard from) has asked India to return her remains for burial in Albania, where Mother Teresa was born, in what is now Macedonia. The Indian government has refused, saying that she will remain quietly interred in Calcutta, where she spent most of her adult life serving the poor.

Relics of saints and martyrs took on special meaning in the Middle Ages. Their bones were compared by St. Augustine to the intangible limbs of the Holy Spirit, holy and worthy of veneration. They were literally divided and parceled out throughout the Christian world in order to spread the goodness of the saint. It was not uncommon for a saint’s finger to be in Paris, another in Cologne, his femur in London, and his head in Rome. St. Andrew, for example, who is the patron saint of Scotland, never stepped foot in any lands that far west; his missionary activity focused on Greece, Ukraine, and Russia in the years after the ascension of Christ. Andrew’s bones, however, arrived in Scotland approximately four hundred years after his death in the first century. It also was common for two cities, competing for the best pilgrimage destination, to claim to have the same martyr’s head.

Reliability/security versus joy

As many of you know, my faith is of a Franciscan sort. I’ve written several books on Francis and on Clare, I took the name “Francis” at my reception into the Church, and I try as best I can to live by the principles evident in their lives.

Well, yesterday I followed my Franciscan principles in a new way. More and more, I am following Francis in a way that I was not able to do, a few years ago. I was too often stuck in old ways of thinking and doing.

I’m living less for security and more in joy than I ever have before. I’m telling you this not only because it’s Franciscan, but because I’m convinced that it’s good for you. When you make decisions that bring joy to yourself and others, you can see that not only Francis, but of course Jesus, knew what they were talking about in recommending that we be more like the birds of the air.

For me yesterday it was something as simple as which car to drive. I live in Vermont and for 12 years have been driving sturdy, reliable, secure, cars for the sake of their longevity and ability to plow through snowdrifts. Well, I had driven my latest such car as far as it would go–185,000 miles–and it was dying, fast. I wasn’t even sure if it would make it the 90 miles to the used car lot where I discovered the car that I would trade-in for it. But thank god, the old girl (that’s what my mechanic always called it) made it.

I bought a 2002 Mini Cooper, plenty used, but also a car that is not clunky and reliable like my old ones have been; but rather, a zippier, tinier, (yes, fuel-efficient, but not just that), one that would bring me and others, joy.

St. Francis always told his brother friars that, when they planted the annual vegetable garden, to be sure to leave a portion of the soil for planting flowers. Flowers had no practical value to those first Franciscans; they gave the friars no security against the winter months; but Francis called them his “Sisters” and he loved to watch their beautiful colors.

What a Sight–Pilgrims from Hawaii in St. Peter’s Square

What a sight it was yesterday at St. Peter’s Basilica at the Vatican, as hundreds of pilgrims from Hawaii celebrated, in traditional dress, the canonization of Father Damien. Read about it in The Honolulu Advertiser!

Is it possible that this is yet another way that President Barack Obama, who is native to Hawaii, but of course not Catholic, has influenced world events? Probably not. I hope not. But the campaign for Father Damien’s canonization has been ongoing for at least two decades, and it is at least ironic that it has come to fruition within the first year of Obama’s presidency.

Father Damien was, like Mother Teresa of Calcutta, one who spent a lifetime caring for the sick and dying–in his case, they were leprosy patients, once a mainstay of life on the Hawaiian islands. Father Damien is only the tenth Catholic saint from the United States. See here for the list of ten…

What is the Church?

I have always appreciated this comment from Thomas Howard:

“The Holy Catholic Church looks more like the five thousand whom the Lord fed on the hillside than she does the small group of insiders in the Upper Room.”

–from Lead, Kindly Light

Using Imagination

From one of the interrogations during the trial of St. Joan of Arc…

Joan: I hear voices telling me what to do. They come from God.

Robert: They come from your imagination.

Joan: Of course. That is how the messages of God come to us.

–GBShaw, Saint Joan (from Almost Catholic, page 31)

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