The Road to Meribah

[Joe's left brain: "Meribah" (at least maybe) refers to the place in the desert near Kadesh where the Israelites complain of being led to die of thirst and Moses, showing the same impatience - and in violation of the Lord's command - strikes the rock twice to obtain from it the miraculous water. My use of it here is simply because that's what I wrote in my journal, where I had no regard for the scholarly debate over the conflation of Meribas and Massas.]

It is a practice of mine to review the past year's entries in my spiritual journal at the beginning of a new liturgical year. As I was engaged in this activity today, I came across a passage where I was frustrated about daftness. The title (yes, I entitle journal entries...) which I gave the section was "All Roads Lead to Meribah."

I was complaining that we take too much for granted that every moment of every day, and every human interaction which graces each day, are instances in which the Lord communicates to us. If we truly "walk in the ways of the Lord," our path will be seen to be strewn everywhere with landmarks reminding us of our destination and our destiny. Christ, the true Way, shines in those whom we meet and those whose words we hear. Inasmuch as we fail to appreciate this, though, we are on the path to Meribah. We are on our way to hard-heartedness, and stubborn refusal to hear and respond to God’s word.

"Would you but listen to his voice to-day!" Other versions translate Psalm 95:8 in various other ways. This is from Knox’s rendering. All the other versions I remember are some semblance to this, showing preference either to the subjunctive or to the imperative sense. I like the way Knox’s translation combines both; and, insofar as I have no knowledge of Hebrew, I’m content to trust the Servant of God’s rendering as authentic.

As we begin the season of Advent, this text from the primary form of the Liturgy's "invitiatory," with which countless faithful begin each day, is a good theme I think. To stay awake, to watch for the Lord’s coming: this is to remain authentic, to remain attentive to the voice of the Lord speaking through the other people whom we encounter in our daily lives. To take the road to Bethlehem means to turn our backs on Meribah (though, strictly, I know this is only geographically true about 25% of the time – bear with me here). To watch for the coming of the Lord into our daily lives implies humility and a surrender of our preferences for how we would like to meet him. The lowliness of the manger at Bethlehem may be a scandal to our expectations of the glory of the One who is to come – so may His using as a mouthpiece our inadequate and imperfect fellow-travelers along the road. Yet, He does not disdain to speak thus: he has exalted the lowly and raised the humble from their ignominy.

As we go through Advent, we must remember that we are not merely looking forward to an encounter with Emmanuel – God with us. He has come. He is in our midst. Part of the spirit of Advent is the recognition of this immanence. Part of the virtue of hope, which we develop through our reflection on this season, is to appreciate the real presence among us of that to which we look forward for fulfillment.

This is also the theme of Pope Benedict’s new encyclical letter on Hope. "Faith draws the future into the present, so that it is no longer simply a 'not yet'. The fact that this future exists changes the present; the present is touched by the future reality, and thus the things of the future spill over into those of the present and those of the present into those of the future" (Spe salvi, 7). Today, we will hear the voice of the Lord. It is a manifestation of faith in hope to encounter that voice with an unhardened heart. If we truly look forward to the fulfillment of Christ’s promise at Christmas, then we cannot fail to discern each day His Divine Word in the multifarious words which fall upon our (too often deaf) ears. To have a destination is to be firmly set upon a way and attentive to each step of the journey; otherwise, we may grow lax and wander and wake to find ourselves walking blindly and deafly into Meribah.

Ite ad Ioseph

"Ite ad Ioseph et, quidquid vobis dixerit, facite." (Genesis 41:55)

I took for my patron and lord the glorious St. Joseph, and recommended myself earnestly to him.... I cannot call to mind that I have ever asked him at any time for anything which he has not granted; and I am filled with amazement when I consider the great favours which God hath given me through this blessed Saint; the dangers from which he hath delivered me, both of body and of soul. To other Saints, our Lord seems to have given grace to succour men in some special necessity; but to this glorious Saint, I know by experience, to help us in all: and our Lord would have us understand that as He was Himself subject to him upon earth — for St. Joseph having the title of father, and being His guardian, could command Him — so now in heaven He performs all his petitions. I have asked others to recommend themselves to St. Joseph, and they too know this by experience; and there are many who are now of late devout to him, having had experience of this truth.

From The Life of Saint Theresa of Avila, VI

Once upon a time, I gave voice to some personal reflections on why the figure of Joseph is important in my spirituality. These previous posts were somewhat affected with a certain style of rhetoric in order that they not seem too "preachy," since I have no office or mandate to preach about anything. Or, so was my thinking at the time. Two years later, I'm a little more secure in my understanding of my baptismal mandate to spread the Gospel, and even more determined than ever to spread devotion to Saint Joseph. I think that Saint Joseph's patronage is sadly neglected and undersold to those who need it most, and I think that the Church in the modern day would benefit particularly from his example and intercession - it was not for nothing that the Fathers of the Second Vatican Council named Joseph the patron of that Holy Synod, the implementation of which is by no means complete.

I'm currently reading a little booklet called Saint Joseph, Fatima and Fatherhood: Reflections on the Miracle of the Sun, by a Msgr. Cirrincione. The booklet draws attention to the figure of Joseph at that momentous apparition which astounded tens of thousands of witnesses. Along with Our Lady of Fatima, there appeared in the sky next to the sun before it did its miraculous dance, the figure of Saint Joseph holding the Child Jesus in his arms. At least one of the visionaries saw Saint Joseph and the Child blessing the world.

Now, being a seminarian, I'll anticipate here a question which could only occur to the mind of a seminarian long used to splitting straws in discussion ad nauseam, to wit: What right or office had Saint Joseph to bless, and is it not superfluous to the blessing of the Great High Priest being given simultaniously?

Now the answer to this is obvious, but the reason I pose the question is that it serves as a starting point for reflection and, I think, helps reveal to us the great role which Joseph plays in intercession for our Church.

To handle the first part of my question: Saint Joseph is a patriarch. In the Old Testament, both priests and patriarchs blessed the people. In fact, the office of blessing and bestowing gifts was more the role of the latter, while the former were primarily intercessors between men and God in sacrifice. This is one of the reasons that a reader is shocked to find Abraham receiving blessing from the mysterious Melchizedek in the fourteenth chapter of Genesis, left only to conclude that great indeed was the priesthood of that fatherless and ageless king.

Of course, the greatest blessing which could be bestowed by a Patriarch is the blessing of inheritance and prosperity, and this is context in which we find sons kneeling at their fathers' feet throughout the Old Testament. This point may be significant in light of the apparition, as I will point out later.

On to the second point of the question: it is important here that in the apparition, we see the Child Jesus in his father's arms. There are many lessons to be gleaned from this particular image, but I think that there is one which explains why both father and Son were giving blessing. Think of normal earthly relationships of fathers and children. Children imitate their fathers' examples; they are obedient to their fathers' demands. I believe that Saint Joseph is blessing the world and commending the act to His Son, who, as Saint Theresa teaches us, responds to Joseph's demands now in Heaven as He did on earth. I believe that one might interpret from the vision that Jesus is blessing the world at his foster-father's behest. (I think, further, that one might say both are responding to the will of Mary, but that is for another discussion.)

There is nothing untoward about this observation. I am not saying that Christ is compelled in any way by the desires either of Joseph or Mary. Christ's will is entirely the will of His Father in Heaven, and that is completely sovereign. Rather, one might say that it is perfectly Christ's own will that He continue to be obedient to his earthly parents: it is part of the mystery of His infinite humbling in the incarnation. And since those two souls are perfected in grace, there is no disparity to be feared.

So, I think that the vision at Fatima implies Joseph's powerful intercessory role as he "instructs" his foster-Son to bless the world. But what is this blessing that Joseph wills? Well, the blessing most fitting to a Patriarch: the blessing of inheritance and prosperity. Here, I think, we discover a rationale for why we must honor Saint Joseph second only to Mary in the communion of saints. We know from our catechism that we are God's adopted sons and daughters by grace of our Baptism. But there is an intimacy to this reality that I think we fail to appreciate: we have truly been adopted into the household of the Holy Family! Our adopted inheritance is as incarnational as the other mysteries of our faith. We are truly members of the earthly family of which Saint Joseph is the head by his auspicious vocation, with Mary as our true earthly mother and Joseph as our patriarch and guide. This is not some ephemeral relationship that must wait for the life beyond: it is as real and legal as the family relationships into which we were born. Hence, I venture to conclude that devotion to Mary and Joseph is not merely a supplemental exercise to our life in faith, but a heavenly mandate. We must honor our father and mother.

This obligation is to our benefit ultimately. The intercessory power of Saint Joseph is, I believe, typified in the story of the Old Testament patriarch Joseph. Joseph of Israel was a steward of the King (Pharaoh) who had the right to bestow the King's graces as he deemed fit. It is significant that the primary distribution of which Joseph was in charge was the allotment of grain during the famine. Further, it is through Joseph's intercession that the family of Israel was welcomed into the King's rhealm and given a land of prosperity. And we must not forget the compelling command which Pharoah gives to his starving subjects: "Go to Joseph; whatsoever he says to you, do."

Surely, Saint Joseph holds sway over the treasure houses of Heaven in like manner to his Old Testament type. In humble service to Jesus through Mary, Saint Joseph has a unique power of governance and protection over the Church which we do well to invoke as often as we approach the altar (this was truly the sentiment of Blessed Pope John XXIII when he added Joseph's name to the Roman Canon, which was then the only Eucharistic Prayer in usage in the Latin Rite).

I would encourage all of my readers to read the final chapters of Genesis with prayerful consideration, and to take to heart the advice of Saint Theresa with which I opened this post. Many are the benefits to be gained from contemplating our place as adopted members of the Holy Family. How ought we to act, if we have truly been raised in that household? And to whom should we run in time of need, fear, excitement, or joy? It is often said that an essential Catholic motto is, "You can choose your friends: but you're stuck with your family." Indeed. Deo gratias!

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph: bless and assist us.

Here's Mud in Your Eyes!

One day, walking into philosophy class, I paused to consider two syllogisms which had been written on the board. The intention, no doubt, was merely to annoy our professor, a logician.

The first syllogism was as follows:

God is love.
Love is blind.
God is blind.

Taking this conclusion as the major premise, the second argument ran thus:

God is blind.
Stevie Wonder is blind.
Stevie Wonder is God.

We'll ignore for the moment the fallacy involved here which conflates a class with divisions or members of that class, for that is inconsequential to my point in this article. It should be acknowledged, however, that, spurious though this argument may be, the phenomenon of pop star worship is a reality that could be dealt with at length in another post; yet, that is not my concern here. Suffice it to say that I have indeed met some who regard Stevie Wonder as God, or at least as a god. If you ask me, it's very superstitious...

Sorry, I couldn't help myself.

Anyway, my concern here is with the conclusion of the first syllogism.

While the statement "God is blind" might at first sound utterly blasphemous, I think that a reverent spin might be put on the expression with a bit of meditation. We have learned from Saint Paul that "the foolishness of God is wiser than men: and the weakness of God is stronger than men." (1 Cor 1:25) Ours is a God who exalts the lowly, humbles the proud, enriches the poor, and strikes poor the rich. He "looks with favor" on the lowly; He sees largeness in faith the size of a mustard seed, but sees mountains as small enough to be moved. In the world's reasoning, such things are madness; but is this not because we see things differently? What we are told to believe so often seems to contradict the evidence of our own eyes. It seems almost that a blind man might have even an advantage in this regard: "Blessed are they that have not seen...." Is it not true that as the wisdom of men is the foolishness of God, so is man's true sight the "blindness" of God?

Tradition is filled with illustrations of God's apparent "blindness" in earthly terms. Consider the two famous cases of patrimony in Genesis where favor and covenental promises were passed down according to the literal blindness of men:

"Now Isaac was old, and his eyes were dim, and he could not see... And Jacob said: I am Esau, thy firstborn: I have done as thou didst command me: arise, sit and eat of my venison, that thy soul may bless me." Genesis 27

And Jacob himself would similarly decide his heritage:

"... Israel's eyes were dim by reason of his great age, and he could not see clearly. And when [Ephraim and Manasses] were brought to him, he kissed and embraced them... [and] he, stretching forth his right hand, put it upon the head of Ephraim, the younger brother; and the left upon the head of Manasses, who was the elder, changing his hands." Genesis 48

With the blindness of men, these two patriarchs had the vision of God and saw His will through to completion despite apparent absurdity. The most powerful lesson in the Old Testament of the difference in sight between man and God came to the prophet Samuel, when God rejected David's brothers one by one in choosing Israel's King. Of the most estimable brother, God said:

"Look not on his countenance, nor on the height of his stature: because I have rejected him, nor do I judge according to the look of man: for man seeth those things that appear, but the Lord beholdeth the heart." (1 Sam 16:1)

The greater weight of this contrast is brought to bear in the New Testament, with relation to man's sin. These Old Testament types still have somewhat to do with earthly matters: earthly kingship and exaltation and glory and prosperity. But in the New Testament a new lesson is taught about God's blindness in earthly terms.

In the Gospel, it is the places which are dark and hidden from earthly sight that Christ reveals as the object of God's gaze. This "comes home" in the story of the Prodigal Son. In his book, The Return of the Prodigal Son, Henri Nouwen meditates upon the image of the father in the story as a representation of the Heavenly Father. When the son returns, Jesus tells us that the Father sees him from far off - He has been watching for him. Nouwen muses that the Father had watched like this every night since the son had left, and had seen with gifted vision all of the many sins in which the son had engaged among the foreigners. Yet, when the son returns, the Father "sees past" all of these sins: He sees a son back from the dead. Often forgotten is the smaller parable which immediately precedes this one in the fifteenth chapter of Luke's gospel, in which a woman lights a candle to search for a lost coin. Again, we see that God's sight is turned to the dark places, to seek out the lost and discover what lies hidden.

The full paradox comes to light in John's gospel, in the ninth chapter. Here we find the story of Jesus healing a man born blind. It has always struck me that Christ heals this particular man in a very graphic way. He does not merely touch or speak a word. Instead, Jesus makes clay with His spit and spreads the mud over the man's eyes. After washing, the man is made able to see. I've often wondered what this mud is meant to represent. Often it has been interpreted as the obscuring power of sin. Yet, Christ tells us that "Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents; but that the works of God should be made manifest in him [has he been born blind.]" (v 3)

If you take the chapter as a whole, it seems almost to indicate that only by becoming "blind" in earthly terms can man learn truly to see. In order to see as God sees, we must stop seeing as men. We must embrace as our wisdom the folly of the Gospel. We must let the paradoxical teachings of Christ which so affront our earthly sight to be as mud in our eyes if ever we hope to see things aright.

Christ's exchange with the Pharisees at the end of the chapter enforces this point:

And Jesus said: For judgment I am come into this world: that they who see not may see; and they who see may become blind.

And some of the Pharisees, who were with him, heard: and they said unto him: Are we also blind?

Jesus said to them: If you were blind, you should not have sin: but now you say: We see. Your sin remaineth.

Let us then be fools for Christ's sake, and blind to the world for the sake of the kingdom.

Christ came for judgment... and it is at the judgment that we will know the full extent to which God's vision is blind in earthly estimation. Those blessed enough to arrive at that day with their souls well prepared will greet a smiling Father who has been watching long for their return. They will learn that He is all-knowing and all-seeing, and that He gazes upon all times and places at once. And yet, as He welcomes them home, and they remember their sinfulness and failings in this life, they will not fear that He will remember those past sins. Having been forgiven, it will seem to them as though He had never even seen those things at all.

And They Blessed God In The Furnace...

O, let the earth bless the Lord: let it praise and exalt him above all for ever. O, ye mountains and hills, bless the Lord: praise and exalt him above all for ever. O, all ye things that spring up in the earth, bless the Lord: praise and exalt him above all for ever. O, ye fountains, bless the Lord: praise and exalt him above all for ever. O, ye seas and rivers, bless the Lord: praise and exalt him above all for ever. O, ye whales, and all that move in the waters, bless the Lord: praise and exalt him above all for ever. O, all ye fowls of the air, bless the Lord: praise and exalt him above all for ever. O, all ye beasts and cattle, bless the Lord: praise and exalt him above all for ever. O, ye sons of men, bless the Lord, praise and exalt him above all for ever.

Daniel 3:74-82

I don't know a whole lot about global warming.

I can't say that I've put a very concerted effort into understanding the issue, so I'm unable to make any really educated judgment as to how much scientific evidence there is for either the phenomenon or its most popularly proposed causes (among which natural causes never seem to be entertained). I can say this much, though: that, while I'm as "plugged in" to the main-stream media as any, and the efforts of concerned individuals are substantial; yet, I haven't been frightened from my complacency. Indeed, from my perspective (which I hope is reasonably openminded), all of their work has seemed like so much frenzied fearmongering, spattered with agenda-driven vituperations. I'm given the impression that the "Inconvenient Truth" of which I'm unable to be convinced is glaringly obvious, such that even a cursory consideration will indubitably confirm one in belief.

Oh, well, I guess I'm slow.

And as I watch their efforts - and many a kindly heart laboring amongst them - my conscience is stirred by the eco-friendly crowd. Sometimes, even, it bitters the sweetness of my joy as I watch the smoke waft from my cigar's end, knowing that it may smother a happy butterfly. If I am to be so troubled by this inconvenient truth, I wish at least that I might be convinced! But, as yet, the evidence has not gained me a supporter to their ranks, and I'll continue to puff my puros in defiance of unreasonable doubt.

I think part of my reluctance is because of the word environment. I hate the word. It is a sign of our contraceptive culture that people can say, "We have a wonderful environment," and such things, and others actually will be moved by the phrase. There's a sterility and a lack of romance in the way that environmentalists talk about the thing they're trying to protect, and that makes me wonder about motives. Is it utilitarianism? How are we to feel about these "biomes" and "ecosystems" which are so neatly cataloged without a single adjective worthy of a good poem? It cannot be true love. Infatuation, maybe. Cupidity at best. But it is not the true love of Creation that so many poets and prophets have spoken about, is it? These latter might not always have seen the Creator behind creation; but even then, they exalted creation itself as sublime: the worshipped nature in earnest. The modern naturalist isn't even a nature worshipper: he thinks nature is a mathematical chimera, a soul-less oddity born in chaos and falling back into the void with only an ostensible appearance of intelligent ordering. And somehow that is supposed to command our affection and allegiance!

Anyway, all of these thoughts came to mind yesterday morning when I came across this story over at American Papist. The news story struck me, although it's not really a surprise: the Vatican is dedicated to safeguarding the Environment. If, like me, you choose to replace that loaded yet lifeless word with "Creation," then the headline no longer seems odd or even noteworthy, but rather an obvious statement. And I'm O.K. with that. Because then we understand that our "environment" is truly ours; that it is part of creation and that it has been ordered for our proper use. We are its stewards. Thus we must make good use of it and use it reasonably. Reasonable, too, must be the means we take in order to care for Creation: they must not be disordered in their own right, or transplant human rights with lesser dignities.

Be it merely apropos or truly providential, tomorrow is the feast of Blessed Kateri Tekakwitha. And she is the patroness of ecology (although, I'm sure, in her native language she had much warmer ways of expressing the same idea). Let us pray to her for wisdom in our stewardship guided by knowledge of the truth, inconvenient or irksome or otherwise.

Yeah, perhaps the earth is getting warmer. It certainly feels like it, lately. Who's to blame? I blame aerosol cheese. Before the fall of the Soviet Union, we might have blamed the Russians. Before the Fall of mankind, we might have blamed nobody. We are forever looking for new alibis and placing blame for phenomena over which we might have no control, if only to distract ourselves from real problems which are our doom to counteract. Maybe God's good earth is simply heating up a bit like a self-cleaning oven to wash itself of some filth naturally accumulated from years of not necessarily improper use. The three young men in the furnace were not thwarted by warmth in their celebration of creation, however; so, neither let us despair, but lead all things on earth to praise the Lord.

Blessed Kateri Tekakwitha, pray for us.

Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, pray for us.

Gyve me thy grace good lord...

Happy Feast of Saints John Fisher and Thomas More, Martyrs.

If you haven't read Fisher's Defense of the Priesthood, give it a go.

And from Saint Thomas More, courtesy of Father Z:

(Written while imprisoned in the Tower of London, 1534)

Give me thy grace, good Lord:
To set the world at nought;
To set my mind fast upon thee,
And not to hang upon the blast of men’s mouths;
To be content to be solitary,
Not to long for worldly company;
Little and little utterly to cast off the world,
And rid my mind of all the business thereof;
Not to long to hear of any worldly things,
But that the hearing of worldly phantasies may be to me displeasant;
Gladly to be thinking of God,
Piteously to call for his help;
To lean unto the comfort of God,
Busily to labor to love him;
To know mine own vility and wretchedness,
To humble and meeken myself under the mighty hand of God;
To bewail my sins passed,
For the purging of them patiently to suffer adversity;
Gladly to bear my purgatory here,
To be joyful of tribulations;
To walk the narrow way that leadeth to life,
To bear the cross with Christ;
To have the last thing in remembrance,
To have ever afore mine eye my death that is ever at hand;
To make death no stranger to me,
To foresee and consider the everlasting fire of hell;
To pray for pardon before the judge come,
To have continually in mind the passion that Christ suffered for me;
For his benefits uncessantly to give him thanks,
To buy the time again that I before have lost;
To abstain from vain confabulations,
To eschew light foolish mirth and gladness;
Recreations not necessary — to cut off;
Of worldly substance, friends, liberty, life and all, to set the loss
at right nought for the winning of Christ;
To think my most enemies my best friends,
For the brethren of Joseph could never have done him so much good
with their love and favor as they did him with their malice and hatred.

These minds are more to be desired of every man than all the treasure
of all the princes and kings, Christian and heathen, were it
gathered and laid together all upon one heap.

I think that Saint Thomas More is too undervalued in our day and age. He is a great example of Christian leadership, heroic virtue in statesmanship, loyalty, duty, and holiness in the married state.

He also had a wonderful, ironic sense of humor and good taste for bawdy carousing, all the while with a hairshirt under his regal garb. What a guy!

In his honor, I think a glass of good wine and A Man For All Seasons are in order.