Danger close

Another volcanic eruption in Iceland is hardly earth-shattering news, pun intended; but there have been stray reports and, as is now common, abundant video footage of the belching and blooming fire and smoke gushing from a fissure in what we usually consider to be solid ground. 

Now, fire hot enough to melt rock is something most people would recognize as dangerous and destructive, and direct human contact with it would afford no second chances or first aid, only incineration and annihilation.  But there they are, in every video and photo, right up at the very edge of the flow of the glowing molten earth: spectators.  People watching, photographing, recording, admiring, and somehow enjoying being close enough to feel the heat coming from this inexorable and insensate destroyer.   

Awesome and astonishing as this eruption surely is, the unpredictable, unmanageable mortal danger somehow does not deter but rather enhances the attraction for the fragile thrill-seekers.

This week, the Sixteenth in Ordinary Time, the daily Mass readings have been from the Book of Exodus, and Wednesday we heard about God’s gift of manna to the hungry, grumbling people of Israel (ch. 16), and then Thursday about His manifesting Himself to them in fire, smoke, and earthquake on Mount Sinai (ch. 19).  These are but two episodes, albeit especially dramatic and memorable ones, of the Living God teaching the Israelites, and through them all the world, Who and how He is. 

For the merry and valiant band of daily Mass-goers (that day I had the 6:30 AM), I wondered at the juxtaposition of those two lessons, the manna and the menace, as we came to the Holy Mountain to be fed, in our hunger and our grumbling, and to be taught, in our ignorance and speculation, Who and how the Living God is.  Both deeds He repeats day in, day out, at our summons in fact, in the act of Eucharist.  He comes in His flesh that He offers as food, manifested in the sacrifice of His Son, the Love Who is God.  We leave refreshed and restored, rather than rattled and reproved.

What if, I wondered, what if in a moment of petulance, what if as a refresher of memory, what if the Living God were to resort to some of the same theatrics He used all those years ago to draw the attention and devotion of the ancient Israelites?  What if the belching fire and billowing smoke, the trembling of the earth itself and the terrifying trumpet were to sound to announce His presence and activity in the saving sacrifice of the Mass?  The sacrifice that day on Calvary, you will recall, was not without its “Sensurround” aspects.

Picture a weekday rush hour, quiet for the summer, disrupted on University Boulevard just east of Colesville Road.  Picture in the eye of your mind cars stopping, some fleeing, some colliding.  Imagine the response of first responders, as police, fire and rescue are dispatched; how long before a helicopter or three begins to circle overhead?  Will the tactical response team arrive, and mobile command posts roll?  Will they evacuate the President, Congress and the government?  

And then, after all this, how many will come, how many will draw near because of the menace, because of the danger?  How many will be drawn to what causes others to flee?  How many people will there be, watching, photographing, recording, admiring, and somehow enjoying being close enough to feel the heat?  And, the real question is, would they get the point? Would they make the connection?  Would they recognize the Living God then?

In a word: nah.  It wasn’t enough then, and it won’t be enough now.  In the New Dispensation, the earth-shattering power of God is hidden in earthly things, but can be seen by those who have eyes to see, because they have ears to hear.  But blessed are your eyes, for they see, and your ears, for they hear. Truly, I say to you, many prophets and righteous men longed to see what you see, and did not see it, and to hear what you hear, and did not hear it. (Mt 13:16-17)

And for those who are drawn to danger, who look for drama and destruction, that too is not wanting.  For as the Preface of the Holy Eucharist reminds us, Christ conveyed to His Apostles, that is, to His Church and to us, the sacrifice of the Mass establishing for the ages to come, the saving memorial of the Cross.  And there, in the Cross of Jesus that He begs us to take up, there is danger and destruction aplenty.  Who will come?

For you have not come to what may be touched, a blazing fire, and darkness, and gloom, and a tempest, and the sound of a trumpet, and a voice whose words made the hearers entreat that no further messages be spoken to them. …  Indeed, so terrifying was the sight that Moses said, "I tremble with fear."  But you have come to Mount Zion and to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to innumerable angels in festal gathering, and to the assembly of the first-born who are enrolled in heaven, and to a judge who is God of all, and to the spirits of just men made perfect, and to Jesus, the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood that speaks more graciously than the blood of Abel.  See that you do not refuse him who is speaking.  For if they did not escape when they refused him who warned them on earth, much less shall we escape if we reject him who warns from heaven. (Hebrews 12:18-19, 21-25)

For here, on the Holy Altar, is laid out for you the sacrifice that darkened the skies and tore the temple curtain in two.   But it seems that for most folks, and even most of us, that is hardly earth-shattering news.

Monsignor Smith

 

 

The multi-tool player

Listening on the radio to the Nats game the other evening, I heard two unfamiliar names announced to start a late inning.  One was the Nats pitcher, who must have been new to the team that week, and therefore unknown to me; and the other was the batter for the other team, and his name was Wisdom.

Wow, what a great name; and on a world-class athlete, as an MLB player would necessarily be, it indicates a completeness not to be expected nor often encountered: skill, strength, speed, and Wisdom – all in one!   Having a name such as mine, with only one real benefit – it is often spelled correctly on the first try, even over the phone – I frequently admit to what I call “name envy”.  But that night I had a flash of name awe.

There is a genre of ancient text, and a category of Sacred Scripture, called “Wisdom Literature,” and the books are among my favorites.  Ecclesiastes (Qoheleth, or The Preacher – you know, “To every thing there is a season” &c), Sirach (confusingly also called Ecclesiasticus), Proverbs.  The Psalms and Job also are counted, yet different in many ways; but the obvious one is actually called the Book of Wisdom, from which we hear this Sunday.

The common theme is the wisdom that points to God, and is from God, and of God.  But one of the more amusing themes in the Book of Wisdom is that the author points out that anybody who pays attention and, as we might express it these days, “has half a brain,” can identify the existence of the Living God.  My favorite example is in the chapter right after the passage we hear Sunday:

For all men who were ignorant of God were foolish by nature; and they were unable from the good things that are seen to know him who exists, nor did they recognize the craftsman while paying heed to his works; but they supposed that either fire or wind or swift air, or the circle of the stars, or turbulent water, or the luminaries of heaven were the gods that rule the world. If through delight in the beauty of these things men assumed them to be gods, let them know how much better than these is their Lord, for the author of beauty created them. And if men were amazed at their power and working, let them perceive from them how much more powerful is he who formed them. For from the greatness and beauty of created things comes a corresponding perception of their Creator. Yet these men are little to be blamed, for perhaps they go astray while seeking God and desiring to find him. For as they live among his works they keep searching, and they trust in what they see, because the things that are seen are beautiful. Yet again, not even they are to be excused; for if they had the power to know so much that they could investigate the world, how did they fail to find sooner the Lord of these things? (Wisdom 13:1-9)

When I was in Rome recently, we had a tour of the excavations under Saint Peter’s Basilica to the site of Saint Peter’s tomb.  Before the Basilica, and before Peter, the place was a necropolis – an above-ground cemetery filled with mausoleums like rows of condos for the dead.  The decorations on the sarcophagi and tombs invoked or depicted assorted pagan deities, which the guide identified and explained.  Then, at a certain point he asked our group, which god have we not talked about yet?  My answer was, The real one.  That prompted a chuckle – but it was a chuckle of recognition.

People will ask me, What’s the Bible’s position on this? or What’s the Church’s position on that?  The Bible does not have a position, nor does the Church take positions.  These are the instruments of God’s own self-revelation and relentless work to rescue us from ignorance of and distance from Him.  There are millions of questions, but only one complete answer: Jesus Christ.

In our day of careful manners that avoid talk of religion if no longer politics, it is easy to forget that, just because we do not fall into argument with our neighbors, there is no range of opinions that are to be regarded as equally true or valuable; there is no assortment of possible realities to be accommodated in our speech and action.  The Living God has made Himself known, and He is unique and universal, that is, the only God, and the God of everyone and everything.  What the author of Wisdom points out is that it only makes sense.

And that night I was listening to the radio, as is so often the case, Wisdom crushed one out of the park.  

Monsignor Smith

 

 

Apocalypse soon?

Boy is it hot.  I love me some summertime, but wow, am I out of the habit of heat.  I forget, from year to year, the reality of the summer heat, especially after a long, mild spring like we just had.  It was extra long, since winter sort of failed and spring started by default back in early Lent.  Now, dramatic summer thunderstorms, and beastly heat are our lot; we should not be surprised.  

The summers flanking my senior year in high school, I worked at a golf club, a real fancy one that has (since) hosted major tournaments.  I did not maintain the course itself, but I took care of pretty much everything else, including the clay tennis courts and azalea beds, the lawns along the drive to the clubhouse, and for the residents of the homes in the club, I helped collect the garbage and drove the truck to the dump.  THAT was HOT.  All of it.  But the absolute worst was having to go back out to resume whatever task I had been working on after one of the summer thunderstorms came busting through.  The humidity was so high and so heavy as to make breathing difficult.  

Ah the good old days.

These very days of this very summer will soon be counted among the good old days.   Change is afoot in the Holy House of Soubirous, change that will echo through the parish before the heat breaks.  As I type this, the Canonical Twins are on the porch immersed in one of their study sessions while their date with comprehensive examinations comes steadily closer.   

Father Santandreu will be leaving us once he has met all the requirements for his degree.  He has been good company, he has had a good run, but his bishop wants him back and has a stack of work for him in Buffalo.  At the end of July, one day he will simply evaporate into the haze on the horizon.

Father Novajosky, on the other hand, comes from a diocese with a slightly deeper bench, and so he will be staying on to begin his next degree, the doctorate.  He, too, will disappear when this month ends, but he will return with all the other students before Labor Day, and we will rejoice in his company again.

And Father Gabriel Okafor, who has been here only a few weeks, will go back to his parish in California come August, as well.

Change is hard; but wait – there is more!  It is not limited to the residents of the house.  Jackie Nguyen, who has been working here for almost twenty years, has found a donor and will receive a kidney transplant in less than two weeks.  And Ron Farias, our business manage for six years, will retire at the end of this month. 

Jackie will be out for a couple of months, best case scenario, and after that we will see how much we see of her.  Ron will be helping with the transition here and there after the first of August, and will continue as a parishioner, but things will simply not be the same.  I am turning everything over to the Divine Providence as both of these people were my prop and stay over and over again.  

Let me turn all this over to your prayer, as well, and do not neglect to let these people who have played a role in your life know of your care for them.  I know you know what to do.  Everything is changing, but then it always does.   We will learn what God has in store; His mercies are not spent.

After all this, I will be alone in the rectory for several weeks.  My consolation is that it will be The Most Wonderful Month of the Year: August.  I love August, heat and all, because the swelter and stillness and the peaches and the tomatoes; the ability get a parking place anywhere in the metropolitan area, any time, and to drive, even on the beltway, without horrible traffic.   I love the mood everybody is in by August, when they have become accustomed to the calmer pace of summertime, and the effects of their vacations linger like a bright clearheaded buzz.  Yes, August is hot, but it won’t be hot forever.

Some folks point at the heat and the storms and say the world is ending.  Well, that’s a quaint thought but there is no good reason to put any stock in it.  The world will not end until souls cease being saved by Christ, until the workers in the vineyard of the Church cease to gather in the Master’s harvest.  THAT is an apocalypse to be dreaded, a sign to be seen and lamented, a disaster to be averted. 

Meanwhile, I’ll take the heat.

Monsignor Smith

By George

It’s been a gently patriotic week around the Holy House of Soubirous, with relaxed observances of our nation’s birthday mingling with liturgical and sacramental celebrations.  This time of year reminds me that I am now, and have always been, a big George Washington fan.  I think I read my first biography of him in fifth grade.  In seventh grade we staged a play about him.  (They didn’t like the script I drafted because it had too much history in it.  Ah well.)  The more I have read and learned over the years, the more convinced I have become that he is not only my favorite among the Founding Fathers, but he is also among a tiny handful of the greatest national leaders in all history.

Even though I have only for short, disconnected periods lived in the District of Columbia proper, whether living in the Virginia suburbs (most of the time from my college graduation until I went to seminary) or the Maryland suburbs (most of the time, when not in Rome, since ordination), I have always said I lived in Washington. 

Once, when I was new to the area, a young earnest fellow seeking his way in this big city (a “Washington puppy,” as one friend called us), a friend of mine from my college days came to visit.  (Actually, a lot of friends came to visit those first few years.  We were of an age when a floor to sleep on was considered free lodging, and Washington was a desirable locale to visit.  But I digress.)  He brought with him a friend, a young lady from Germany on her first U.S. visit.  As we drove around viewing the monuments, she asked, quite earnestly, “Why is there an enormous obelisk at the center of your city?”  That question sticks with me today because I failed to deliver a suitable answer, saying only that George Washington was our first president and is considered the father of our country.

Perhaps it was because of my shock at her apparent ignorance that I settled for such a rote answer.  But to this day I regret my failure to explain George Washington’s signal unicity in history, our nation’s and the world’s.  His military, political, and economic leadership, and his personal integrity, inspired generations of American citizens to do great things at the service of our nation.  But even all that would not be worthy of the great monument on the Mall. 

He is the indispensable man, the sine qua non of our experiment in ordered liberty.  Without him, there would not be United States of America governed by the Constitutional order we enjoy.  Because he did what no man before had ever done: having been given complete power, he voluntarily laid it down.  He relinquished according to a schedule the Presidency he had defined.   No person or persons had the power to make him do that. 

And ever since, once or twice a decade, the most powerful man on earth lets go of power and walks away, and someone else takes it up.  The throngs tend to be so fixated on the personalities involved that the astonishing phenomenon can go unremarked.  But that obelisk stands to remind us all that it could very well have been otherwise.

Why bother you with this observation now?  Because the day he laid down his power, he thought it important to say this:

Of all the dispositions and habits which lead to political prosperity, religion and morality are indispensable supports. In vain would that man claim the tribute of patriotism, who should labor to subvert these great pillars of human happiness, these firmest props of the duties of men and citizens? The mere politician, equally with the pious man, ought to respect and to cherish them. A volume could not trace all their connections with private and public felicity.

Let it simply be asked: Where is the security for property, for reputation, for life, if the sense of religious obligation deserts the oaths which are the instruments of investigation in courts of justice?

And let us with caution indulge the supposition that morality can be maintained without religion. Whatever may be conceded to the influence of refined education on minds of peculiar structure, reason and experience both forbid us to expect that national morality can prevail in exclusion of religious principle. 

It could very well be otherwise, indeed.  

Monsignor Smith