“No one can really embrace the Christian asceticism mapped out in the New Testament unless he [or she] has some idea of the positive, constructive function of self-denial. The Holy Spirit never asks us to renounce anything without offering us something much higher and much more perfect in return … The function of self-denial is to lead to a positive increase of spiritual energy and life. The Christian dies, not merely in order to die but in order to live. And when he [or she] takes up his cross to follow Christ, the Christian realizes, or at least believes, that he is not going to die to anything but death. The Cross is the sign of Christ’s victory over death. The Cross is the sign of life. It is the trellis upon which grows the Mystical Vine whose life is infinite joy and whose branches we are. If we want to share the life of that Vine, we must grow on the same trellis and must suffer the same pruning.” — Thomas Merton
Merton’s call for us to follow the asceticism of Christian evangelical life is not simply an arbitrary practice that is an end in itself, but must always be seen in the broader context of Gospel living. As Merton points out, the penitential practices of lent are not to be self-serving, but should be oriented toward freeing us up to be more focused on the important things in life. “The function of self-denial is to lead to a positive increase of spiritual energy and life.”
There are a few things that I particularly find worth considering in Merton’s reflection here. One thing is the sense of death to self that Merton presents in association with Christian self-denial. It is the Pauline notion of “dying to one’s self” in order to be more focused on living as a member of the Body of Christ, as part of the Vine Merton describes here. St. Paul writes to the Galatians: “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me” (Gal 2:20), so too, Merton reminds us, are we called to live not for ourselves but as a member of Christ’s body.
The notion of being part of the Vine along the trellis poetically suggests that we don’t do this alone and in our own, arbitrary way. We have to look to God’s very self-revelation in Christ and in the historical manifestation of God’s disclosure in scripture. Here is the locus of our unity and communal support in living more fully the Christian life. Here is the trellis upon which the whole Body of Christ grows and supports one another as part of the Vine.
During this season of lent, we are challenged to pause and reflect on how we go about our everyday lives. Are we aware of our intimate connection to the rest of the Body of Christ? Do we try to life for ourselves alone, away from the Vine, apart from the branches, off the trellis of community where the Pilgrim People of God strive to flourish together? Perhaps we can follow the example of Merton and Paul, seeking in our daily lives — in big and little ways — to die to our own self-centeredness, our own priorities and concerns, and those things which constitute our own frivolous desires rather than the true and inherent aspiration we have deep within to be at home with one another and the rest of creation in Christ.
In one sense we are always traveling, and traveling as if we did not know where we were going.
Today’s Gospel, which is something of a Christmas repeat from the Christmas Mass During the Day (that’s right, in case you didn’t realize this, there are in fact four different sets of reading for Christmas… it’s kind of a big deal!). It is the famous “prologue” of the Gospel according to John. It’s opening lines are some of the most famous lines in all of history: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” And while this is followed most closely by what is likely the second most famous line from the Gospel of John “And the Word became flesh,” I’m not convinced that this is the most important part of this Gospel passage.
O Wisdom, O Holy Word of God, you govern all creation with your strong yet tender care. Come and show your people the way to salvation.
“O God of power and mercy, You blessed the Americas at Tepeyac with the presence of the Virgin Mary of Guadalupe. May her prayers help all men and women to accept each other as brothers and sisters. Through Your justice present in our hearts, may Your peace reign in the world.
For years now, going all the way back to when I was a theology major in college, I’ve studied the work of the great twentieth-century German theologian Karl Rahner. He is notoriously difficult to read, at least that’s caricature, but I can assure you that in light of some more contemporary thinkers, Rahner can be like reading the weekend USA Today newspaper. In addition to his theological omnipresence and strong influence in Catholic (and Protestant) theology over the last fifty years or so, he is worth reading because of his deeply spiritual and, at times, almost poetic style. He was clearly a man of prayer and someone for whom theology was not simply a “mind game” or a pure academic exercise. For Rahner, theology was, as it was for Bonaventure (an influence in Rahner’s famous work on the Trinity, by the way), a path toward holiness and a spiritual, prayerful activity.
For those who happen to be in the Boston area or are young adults (in your 20s or 30s), consider joining me for a retreat at the Benedictine Glastonbury Abbey in Hingham, MA, on October 12-14, 2012! This retreat is the annual weekend retreat sponsored by the St. Anthony Shrine “20s/30s Boston” group and is always a fun, prayerful, and enriching time. The theme of the retreat this year is, “Being Catholic in the 21st Century” (
Today marks the fifteenth anniversary of the death of one of the most revered and well-known models of Christian living in our age: Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta. She entered eternal life on September 5, 1997, I was just about fourteen years old at that time and I remember it well. It was a bizarre week with Princess Diana having been killed in a car crash less-than-a-week earlier. Within a week two of the most well-known international public figures had embraced sister death and became the cause of mourning and reflection. Fifteen years later we are offered an opportunity to pause and reflect again, to pray for our sister in faith and to ask for her intercession, because Mother Teresa continues to journey with us as a member of the communion of saints.
The latest episode of the Dating God Podcast is now out! If you’re a subscriber on iTunes, it should be on your computer waiting for you! And if you’re not a subscriber, you really should be, the podcast is free (and awesome)!
