The Lord goes up with shouts of joy

To celebrate the Ascension may seem strange. It is, after all, about an ending. Saying good-bye can be awkward, is sometimes difficult, and is often sad. His ascension means the disappearance of Jesus. Up to then he was visibly present with his disciples and now he is, it seems, to be absent. Why be joyful about this? Why think of it as something to celebrate?

At the mid-point of his gospel Luke writes: 'when the days drew near for him to be taken up, Jesus set his face to go to Jerusalem' (Luke 9:51). His ‘being taken up’ refers to his crucifixion, the moment in which he was ‘lifted up from the earth to draw all people to himself’ (John 12:32). It can also be taken to refer to his resurrection from the dead. And it is complete in his exaltation to the right hand of the Father. He has been taken up to the place of glory that is eternally his.

In the Temple at Jerusalem the High Priest went up into the Holy of Holies once a year, on the Day of Atonement, carrying the blood of sacrificed animals. Through him Israel asked forgiveness of the Lord and a renewal of the covenant. The only other person allowed to enter the Holy of Holies was a new King, on the day he was enthroned. The psalms and other texts of scripture speak about the king going up to a place of honour in the presence of the Lord, the God of Israel.

This is important background for understanding the Ascension of Jesus. He is our high priest who enters the Holy of Holies, not the earthly one in Jerusalem, but the great and perfect one in heaven. The blood he carries is not that of animals but his own blood, which is offered once and for all to gain ‘an eternal redemption’ (Hebrews 9:12). Seated at the right hand of the Father, enthroned as judge of all, Jesus is our king and our high priest.

Ascension Day is, then, the original feast of Christ the King. Because of his love and obedience the Father has exalted him and given him the name above all other names (Philippians 2:9). We celebrate his victory, and its meaning for us, the fact that he is become ‘the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him’ (Hebrews 5:9). As the prayers of today’s Mass put it, he has been ‘taken up to heaven to claim for us a share in his divine life’ and ‘where he has gone, we hope to follow’.

Although Jesus ‘withdrew from them and was carried up to heaven’ the disciples returned to Jerusalem ‘with great joy, and were continually in the temple blessing God’ (Luke 24:53). They understood, it seems, the meaning of his exaltation. They await the gift of the Spirit, the power from on high that Jesus will send. Jesus had said to his disciples, ‘if I do not go away he (the Advocate, the Holy Spirit) cannot come to you’ (John 16:7). Exalted to the right hand of the Father he sends the Holy Spirit as he had promised. This is why we rejoice at his departure, because his return to the Father establishes a new bond between heaven and earth. In sending the Spirit, Jesus fulfils his promise to remain with us always. We become his physical presence in the world, his body alive with his love. If he is with us in the Spirit, where can we be except with him in the same Spirit?

Our lives have been configured to this great paschal mystery of Jesus, to his death, resurrection, exaltation, and sending of the Spirit. Through baptism we enter sacramentally into the tomb with Jesus so that we may also rise with him as members of his body. Through confirmation we enter sacramentally into his promotion to the right hand of the Father to become temples of his Spirit and witnesses of his grace to the ends of the earth.

Virtue and Vice on the Blogosphere

The Oxford University Newman Society hosted a 'Bloggers' Colloquium' in the Catholic Chaplaincy on 15 February 2008 to discuss the phenomenon of blogging and its impact on the Church and the world. Br Lawrence Lew OP was invited to give one of the talks; an abridged version follows:

That blogs can be a force for good but also for that which is less than good should not surprise us. For social communications through the media is just an expression of our flawed humanity, and indeed the anonymity which the internet affords sometimes exacerbates our flaws. Like everything we do, blogging does not always achieve the good it ought to although I believe that it is essentially ordered towards it. As such, we should treat it like the rest of life – as something with a potential for good, but which can be abused, and where that happens, it should be healed and redeemed. There is no place that the Gospel may not touch, and as a preaching friar, I passionately believe that it is essential that we bring the light of Christ’s truth and the teachings of his holy Church to the blogosphere. It is with this in mind that I have tentatively entitled my reflection: Virtue and Vice in the Blogosphere.

Those Catholics who blog and those who read such blogs are a select few, but they are united by love. At its best, I hope that we are united as Catholic and Christian bloggers in a love for Christ and his Gospel. As this is not a dis-interested love, so the passions and heated exchanges that are elicted online are in many ways understandable and, indeed, to be expected.

However, it is in the area of the passions, that is, the emotions, that we have to be most careful, for sometimes these can get out of control. St Thomas Aquinas, rightly saw that emotions were good and proper for us to possess because they are part of what it means to be a rational animal, to be human. However, they fall within our animal capabilities and so have to be integrated with our rational powers. Thus Aquinas says that passions are “good when they are controlled by reason; and evil when they are not controlled by reason”; the passions have to be moderated by reason. However, this does not mean that one can circumnavigate the emotions or employ the force of sheer ‘will-power’ to control one’s emotions. As the French Dominican Chenu said, one ought to resort to neither “dualistic Manichaeism nor Christian Stoicism”. Aquinas’ answer is that “both acts of the will and the emotions must be given direction, order and guidance; they do not automatically unfold in morally mature directions.” This guidance comes from the acquisition of virtues and the elimination of vices. Developing good habits and virtues will help a person to mature emotionally and grow morally so as to make the right choices in response to one’s feelings and desires; we grow from spoilt brats to mature right-thinking adults. I’m afraid that quite often one sees a lot of the former on display on the blogosphere’s comments boxes! Aquinas taught that “in affirming or rejecting opinions, we shouldn’t be influenced by our liking or dislike of those who propose the ideas, but rather by the certitude of truth”. Thus, we act rationally, guided by prudence and not by our passions. Aquinas’ position is that the passions can be regulated by reason such that “the passions of the wise man are an integral part of his moral life” and indeed, it is a person who delights (and so has an emotive attraction) in doing good who does more good. So, what I want to suggest is that the blogosphere can be a training ground for virtue, but also a temptation to vice.

There is little doubt that prudence is the chief virtue that we must develop in blogging and using the internet. Aquinas says that prudence “is reason itself rendered perfect in its judgments and in its choices.” Often it seems that when one decides what to blog or what to comment, one can take refuge in the truth. That is, something blogged or commented about is justified simply because it is true, or deemed to be quite simply what the Church teaches, and we have to say it no matter what the consequences. I would suggest that prudence, temperance and wisdom require us to judge how and when to act, not just that we are to act. Children may be expected to act without prudent judgment, but mature adults are expected to show some discernment. Otherwise, we can become like the secular press who report whatever they will on the basis that it is fair comment or truth that is in the public interest.

Pope Benedict has said: “The call for today's media to be responsible - to be the protagonist of truth and promoter of the peace that ensues - carries with it a number of challenges. While the various instruments of social communication facilitate the exchange of information, ideas, and mutual understanding among groups, they are also tainted by ambiguity. Alongside the provision of a ‘great round table’ for dialogue, certain tendencies within the media engender a kind of monoculture that dims creative genius, deflates the subtlety of complex thought and undervalues the specificity of cultural practices and the particularity of religious belief. These are distortions that occur when the media industry becomes self-serving or solely profit-driven, losing the sense of accountability to the common good.” I would suggest that the Holy Father’s warning applies not just to the secular media but also to us. For it is easy for us to become embroiled in our cause, our vision of the Church, our idolisation of those things an Aristotelian might call ‘accidents’. As such, I believe that we should hearken to Pope Benedict’s words. Moreover as he also said, albeit in a different context, “Let us generously open our hearts and make room for everything that the faith itself allows”, and so, not just what we would desire in an ideal world. To be sure, one might argue that we are doing this for the good of the Church and for Christ’s sake, but I also think that a certain humility requires us to ask if we are so sure that God has mandated us to do this work for him: for one of the dangers of the blogging phenomenon is that every person becomes his own editor and publisher, every blog becomes a pulpit and there is no accountability. One of the benefits of a group blog like Godzdogz and of writing as a religious friar is that I am accountable to my community, and this, I think, is no bad thing if we want to learn prudence and humility.

A particular vice that aggrieves me and that is not infrequently seen on the blogosphere is detraction, which in Aquinas' great Summa falls under the area of justice. Detraction “strictly speaking is taking away a person’s character by drawing attention to anything that detracts from that character”. Although the intention of admonition does take away the sinfulness of the act, Aquinas notes that “all the same, a man should pick his words carefully, since uttered incautiously they might take away a person’s character, and a fatal wrong might be done without even intending it.” I think this is even more serious if it is directed at our pastors and especially a bishop who is, by consecration, a successor of the apostles. I think the blogs have helped in some areas to fuel such discussions and they have certainly been a tempting place for people to comment and say such things. We may complain – as the flock has always done – about decisions made by our superiors, but to impugn their character, or to judge them guilty of heresy, or to speculate maliciously about their motivations is clearly not good for the Church or for us. The fact is that the blogosphere can be a forum for vicious activity and we should seek not to defend that but to guard our tongues and typing fingers. While our modern world defends free speech, and freedom of opinion, let us be on guard for these can lead to great vice. As the Scriptures say in many places, but here, I am quoting from the Wisdom of Ben Sira: “As you hedge round your vineyard with thorns, set barred doors over your mouth; as you seal up your silver and gold, so balance and weigh your words. Take care not to slip by your tongue and fall victim to your foe waiting in ambush.” Moreover, freedom is a gift that we have to exercise responsibly and this requires the exercise of virtues like courage and temperance, that is, not only the strength to say the truth but to do so wisely and in the right way and time.

So, what can we say in our blogs? St Paul says: “Woe to me if I do not preach the gospel”. And so, I believe that the blogosphere, and indeed, other instruments of the internet, can help us in the mission given to all the baptised. This is not surprising, for if we are preachers of the gospel, we will naturally use everything in our lives and in our world to give glory to him who has saved us and to preach his Word to all nations. Joseph Ratzinger once said: “The Church will have to develop a great deal of imagination to help the gospel remain a force in public life, so that it may shape the people and pervade their life and work among them like yeast.” The internet is just one such area of public life, and it will work for good if we write about the Gospel, seek to disseminate truth and balanced opinion, and help shape our readers in virtue. Perhaps we can take other pointers from Ratzinger. He noted that “nowadays, particularly among the most modern representatives of Catholicism, there is a tendency toward uniformity… I believe that a great deal of tolerance is required within the Church, that the diversity of paths is something in accordance with the breadth of Catholicity – and that one ought not simply to reject it, even when it is something contrary to one’s own taste.” So, there are blogs for every taste, and it is good that these flourish in the Church and work together for the common good and serve the mission of the Church.

In an aphorism commonly attributed to St Augustine, he is believed to have said, “in essentials, unity; in doubtful matters, liberty; in all things, charity.” This should be the creed of all our social communications. It is with care, study and prudence that we are able to distinguish between essentials and doubtful matters, and if we should fear anything in blogging, let us fear a failure in charity.

Gentle Thoughts

The following reflection is by Brother Thomas Casey OP who tends the gardens at St Dominic's Retreat House, Montenotte, Cork

I was around the town of Youghal a few days after the Tour de France whizzed through. The street cleaners had done a fine job of cleaning up and the main street was as clean as a brass penny. I was in no hurry so I took it easy. It was a good time for a stroll and a look around.

As the sun was going down I was distracted by the long shadows thrown by high gables, and then my eye lit on a chimney pot of a derelict building. It wasn't so much the chimney pot, but the spray of pink flowers which stuck up out of it. They were catching the last light, moving and weaving, demanding attention. For those of you who work hard and have long hours, it's good to slow down and look at things like this. As a side benefit I can tell you it is good for the soul because it allows gentle thoughts to have their say.

The first curiosity was how did the flowers get there? Who planted them? Was it a bird or the wind? And of all the seeds which are scattered throughout the world why did this one land here? And how did it survive? But there they were, the fruit of chance, and proud they were, sitting on top of a building where the occupants who had lives to live had lived them and were long gone. If someone moved in now and renovated the building, the flowers would have to go, being a hindrance to the draught in the fireplace and considered nothing but weeds and a nuisance. For the moment, however, these flowers reigned supreme. Who knows, they might have preferred a plot in some lady's garden but it seemed to me that they were doing just fine and were happy to bloom where they were planted.

And I said to myself, 'there you go, sometimes wishing you were somewhere else, doing something else'. That's the way with a lot of people, always restless. I suppose one of the gifts of youth is to be on the move, seeing how best to make a life, and hoping for happiness. For those, like me, who are old, and have wandered down many a byroad unexpectedly, it is great to be able to say, 'well I did my best with the lot that fell my way'. And just like the flowers in the chimney pot of an old house, I now bloom where I am planted and with the help of the good Lord remain faithful to the end.

Good Friday

Galatians 3:23, ' now before faith came, we were imprisoned and guarded under the law until faith would be revealed' (NRSV).

Before faith came, as it were, we - being in the loins of Adam - were barred from partaking in the tree of life. We were cast out from the presence of Almighty God. 'He [God] drove out the man; and at the east of the garden of Eden he placed the cherubim, and a sword flaming and turning to guard the way to the tree of life' (Genesis 3.24).

In Adam, and because of whom we are mortal, we lost our status as sons and daughters. We became bound to mortality - a kind of slavery. Our status became that of slaves.

But, thanks be to God, 'when the fullness of time had come, God sent his son, born of a woman, born under the law, in order to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as children' (Galatians 4.4-5).

The Son bore the name Jesus. He was/is the Son by nature, for, He is what the Father is. The Son enjoyed a naturalis aequalitas (natural equality) with the Father. Yet, for the sake of a lost world, for the sake of lost mankind, He did not scorn participation in humankind's nature. For our sake the Son of God, one who was/is equal with God, one who himself was/is God, was paraded as a common criminal before the eyes of the entire world. Then, He was raised up on a tree born-naked. He was made a curse. For, it is written, 'cursed is everyone who hangs on a tree'.

The devil and his little demons must have thought there is no way these human beings are going to get free now.

But, thanks be to God, the Father had something other in mind. When Jesus hung on that cross water and blood flowed from his side. As the Blood was flowing, the price for our redemption was being paid. 'He was handed over to death for our tresspasses ... ' (Romans 4. 25). That text from Romans goes on to say, and he 'was raised for our justification'. A justification that gives us access to the Father. Jesus' death swallowed up mortality and, in that death, we too can partake in that swallowing up of mortality. Thanks be to God.

John, the beloved disciple, said 'and just as Moses lifted up the serpeant in the wilderness, so must the Son of man be lifted up' (John 3.14). We know Moses lifted the serpeant as a sign for those who were going to die, that if they should have looked on the serpent they would be healed. In the same way, when we look at Jesus on the cross, freed from death, we are healed. Unlike the uplifted serpent, Christ uplifted is an enduring, eternal sign - ever-powerful.

Thus, Augustine was most right, when he said that if humankind were to forget that Christ died for humanity and it was effaced from the history of time then there would truly be dying.

Let us, therefore, look on Christ crucified.

Palm Sunday - Prophetic witness with Christ

Readings: Mt 21:1-11; Is 50: 4-7; Phil 2:6-11; Mt 26:14-27:66.

Palm Sunday begins holy week, the ‘great week’ of our annual commemoration of God’s work for our redemption, the essential liturgical elements of which are attested as early as the fourth century. Jesus goes up to Jerusalem in triumph, accompanied by his disciples, acclaimed by the populace as a prophet and wonder-worker, even as the long-awaited Messiah. Yet, some days later, he will be led out of the city, abandoned by his disciples, to an ignominious execution accompanied by the jeers of the crowd. What had happened?



Familiarity might lead us to overlook a certain ambiguity or tension in the accounts of the Passion. Take the Gospel we read before our solemn and joyful entry into the church, bearing palms. The Evangelist cites this as being the fulfilment of Zechariah’s prophecy of the expected Messiah: “Look, your King comes to you; he is humble, he rides on a donkey, and on a colt…”(Zech 9:9). Matthew in his paraphrase omits the phrase “righteous and victorious is he”, so emphasising, some scholars think, Jesus’ humility. But Jesus rides into Jerusalem, which is an ostentatious action: people would normally approach a place of pilgrimage on foot. Jesus, then, is demonstrating his God-given authority, but that authority is not what people expect. The horse in ancient cultures was primarily a weapon of power, of war - the modern parallel might be a military tank: for example, Pharaoh’s chariots and horsemen in the Exodus, or the psalmist’s warning of trusting to human power rather than God “a vain hope for safety is the horse, despite its power, it cannot save”(Ps 33:17). But Jesus does not approach Jerusalem as a conquering ruler, but as a peaceful king, riding an ass, which also reflects the typology of the expected Messiah: like Moses, who places his wife and children upon an ass (Ex 4:19-20) and Solomon, riding his father David’s mule to be anointed king (1 Kings 1:38,44), perhaps recalled by the acclaim of the crowd: “Hosanna to the son of David”.

Immediately after the passage we have listened to, we have Matthew’s account of Jesus cleansing the Temple, driving out the moneychangers, those who have reduced his Father’s house to “a den of bandits” (Mt 21: 12-14). Jesus’ action is best seen as a symbolic action, typical of a prophet; further emphasised by his healing the blind and the lame, who, according to Jewish tradition, should not have been admitted into the Temple precincts. Jesus is challenging the order of worship in his own day, and in so doing winning no friends: Jerusalem’s economy depended largely on pilgrims spending money during major religious festivals. Not surprisingly, this draws criticism: the chief priests and elders ask “By what authority do you do these things?”(Mt 21:23).

Now for us, this side of Easter, our processing with palms is a symbol of our baptismal authority, of our having become members of the body of Christ. Will we exercise that authority, the authority of loving service, even to the cross? Because taking up our cross, taking up the burden of speaking truth to kings, principalities, and powers, is also our way to resurrection.

The Silence of Joseph

Readings: 2 Samuel 7:4-5a, 12-14a, 16; Psalm 89; Romans 4:13, 16-18, 22; Matthew 1:16, 18-21, 24a

Joseph was told in the dream to accept Mary as his wife because the child that is going to be born of her will be born through the Holy Spirit. These words must have been difficult to hear for a young man who is about to start his own family. What was the guarantee that the words heard in a dream will come true? Was the dream just a dream?

Yet no word of Joseph is recorded in the Gospel. He is silent.

We do not know if he hesitated, we do not know what was his prayer before he accepted the angel’s words. What are we to make of it?
We have to look at his actions. Joseph followed Abraham, his ancestor, in the way he accepted God’s promise. He did it with the silence of faith. Joseph believed the angel and took Mary into his house. In this way he was not only privileged to be a parent to Jesus but he was also made a witness to God’s Word. Through his faith Joseph inherited the promise given to Abraham, that he ‘would become a father to many nations.’

It is in silence and faith that we meet the Word of God and Joseph is for us a model to imitate.

The Fourth Glorious Mystery - The Assumption

This mystery presents, perhaps most clearly, how concrete our hope in God is. It is as concrete as the fact that we are bodily creatures. What difference does it make for Christian hope? It is of revolutionary importance: we do not spend this present life trying to escape from the body, we do not believe that the body is evil. The Christian way of life is a witness to the fact that our body is the temple of the Holy Spirit. It is in the body that we experience God and it is our hope and faith that we will rise again and live forever in our transfigured bodies. What it means exactly we still do not know, but we already know that Mary is the first disciple of Christ who is already with God body and soul. She is the one in whom the Holy Spirit lived most perfectly as she carried God’s Word in her body, and in her we see the model of the whole community of believers.

This obviously invites a deeper reflection on our attitude to ‘bodily matters’. Both our bodies and souls have been sanctified through Christ's death. If this is so then every act of violence, every suffering that we inflict on others, every help that we refuse to give to the hungry, is in a sense an act of desecration.

Perhaps awareness of the fact that our bodies are in such an intimate relationship with the Holy Spirit will help us understand the Christian stance on many ethical issues such as human-cell-engineering. Humanity is an ‘inspired’ race and Mary reminds us of it.

The Third Joyful Mystery - The Nativity

We seem to be running short of answers for those friends of ours who think that religion should be banned. Perhaps, like Herod, they consider the Child born of Mary to be a threat to them, to their lives and ambitions. Nothing more misleading. The Incarnation of God brought us the true liberty and calm, we can now face ourselves and others as we really are. No more fear and hiding. Jesus is born into a human family and transforms the relationship within the family. But there is more. He transforms all human relationships as he brings hope into our world. We do not need to fear a stranger. Why is it? There is no real competition that we can now have among ourselves. It is Christ who is the cornerstone of the entire universe and all things relate directly to him. Both the stranger and we ourselves rely on the same hope. It is the same God who created us all, saved us and is looking out to see us coming back. If we accept this liberty there is no problem in calling Mary the Mother of God. This what she really is and this fact brings no threat to us. Neither does it influence in any negative way our personal hope for seeing God. We can still have a broadband access to God, even though Mary holds the hotline. No need to fear the Mother and the Child.

Praying the Rosary 3 - The Rosary as a Lenten Devotion

The Christian life may be regarded as a journey of transformation or “conversion” which we are called to travel step by step throughout our life. The annual season of Lent, which is itself a journey towards Easter, reminds us that the Christian journey is never over and done with in this life but requires sustained commitment and constant practice. The Rosary - a prayer which is also based on repetition and constant practice – is a journey in the company of Mary deeper into the mystery of Jesus Christ. The Rosary therefore blends easily into the spiritual journey of the Christian which we live even more intensely during Lent.

The Rosary is usually recited on a chain of fifty beads which are divided into five decades. Each of these decades represents a particular moment or ‘mystery’ in the life of Christ. As our fingers move through the beads of each decade we recite the Hail Mary prayer ten times while meditating upon a particular event in the life of Christ or His Mother. At the beginning of each mystery we pray the Our Father and at the end of each mystery we say 'glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit, as it was in the beginning is now and ever shall be world without end, Amen'. There are in total four sets of mysteries – joyful, luminous, sorrowful and glorious - covering all the major events in the life of Christ. The Rosaries which Dominican Friars wear on their habits sometimes have enough beads for all twenty mysteries.

Prayer, fasting and almsgiving are the three traditional ascetical practices associated with Lent. During this season we are invited to intensify our life of prayer, that vital activity which sustains and deepens our relation to God. If the Rosary has sometimes been called a “compendium of the Gospel” we might just as easily call it a “compendium of prayer” consisting of praise, petition and contemplation and comprising some of the most important prayers in the Christian tradition. The “sorrowful” mysteries of the Rosary can be considered of particular importance as we journey through Lent towards Holy Week because with these mysteries we contemplate the individual moments of Christ’s Passion – such as His scourging and crowning with thorns, carrying the Cross, and Crucifixion and death – in anticipation of the light of the Resurrection on Easter Day.

Praying the Rosary 2 - The Rosary and the Dominican Vocation

Recently, the Master of the Order, Fr Carlos Azpiroz Costa, wrote a letter on the Rosary, declaring that this year should be a 'Year of the Rosary' for the Order. In his letter Fr Carlos, suggested that the Order undergo a process of re-discovering the importance of the Rosary in Dominican life, both as a prayer by which we contemplate the mysteries of salvation, and also as a means by which the Gospel may be preached.

The letter begins by treating the memories that we may have of the Rosary: these may be our own, or ones that have been passed on to us. These will help us, Fr Carlos suggests, to rediscover its importance in our own lives, and what it has meant to others. He recounts the story of the persecution of Brazilian Dominicans in the 1970s, and of a brother being dragged away, shouting for his Rosary to be brought to him. Such a moment showed forth the Rosary's importance to that brother. Why then might the Rosary in particular be so important to us?

The Master's answer is that the mysteries we contemplate in the Rosary are very much associated with the events of our own life. Each mystery speaks to us of the mysteries of salvation brought to us through the incarnation, and in a special way of the effect those mysteries have in our own life. There are few prayers that better speak to us and make God present to us in all our needs than the Rosary. Fr Carlos recounts his journeys throughout the world, visiting the Order, and how these have shown him how often people turn to the Rosary as a prayer in their deepest needs: in poverty, war, and violence. He encourages the Dominicans to see the Rosary as gift: it is a prayer that can be said at any time, in any place, alone or together. Sometimes maybe all we are able to do is to grasp the beads in our hands, 'grasping the hand of Mary herself'. It is a prayer for the whole of our lives, whether as a young child receiving our first Rosary as a gift, a young Dominican novice, receiving the Rosary with the habit, or as a symbol of lifelong devotion, at our side when we are laid to rest at the end of our lives.

In the letter, the Order is presented with a call to re-discover the value and place of the Rosary in our personal and community prayer, our contemplation and preaching. Perhaps reviving the praying of the Rosary is something that we should all be involved in as Catholics. We might wish to think about placing the prayer at the centre of our prayer lives this Lent, praying that it will help prepare us to worthily and reverently celebrate the mysteries of our salvation.

The Witness of the Incarnation - St John, Apostle and Evangelist

Readings: 1 John 1:1-4; Psalm 97; John 20, 1a, 2-8.

This is no coincidence, I think, that we celebrate the feast of St John, Apostle and Evangelist, in the Octave of Christmas. He is the first defender of the truth of the Incarnation. He testifies to
what he has heard,
what he has seen with his eyes,
what he looked uponand touched with his hands
he is a witness to the fact that God became one of us.

This truth is so incredible that over the centuries many have tried to deny it. Why is this so? I am sure that there is more than one way of accounting for this. Perhaps the most important reason is that the Incarnation shows clearly the radical love that God has for us. This could be an uncomfortable fact for many, even for us today: love is always a relationship that requires at least two persons, it requires a wholehearted response.

Perhaps we ourselves are not always ready to accept and respond to love with love. Nothing could be easier and more difficult at the same time because of our fear of commitment. But loving God is no serfdom but liberation and deep in our hearts we all long for this Beauty, ‘ever ancient and ever new.’

Nativity of our Lord

Two years ago, I had the most beautiful celebration of Christmas I have ever had in my life. There was no incense or sparkling chasubles, no gleaming liturgical vessel, no elaborated liturgy, no endless rehearsal with the choir, no carols sung joyfully by a half-sleepy congregation, no turkey, no hazy Boxing Day … None of these things we might usually expect. Nothing but a Eucharist in its simplest form celebrated with my family in my mother’s room, in the hospital where she was living her last days … Life is sometimes paradoxical. In the heart of our suffering, profound joy can be sometimes discerned and the voice of the Lord who says ‘I am with you’ can be heard. And the Incarnation is the great mystery that destroys all our categories and securities. Our gaze is sometimes too weak to see and understand him: whilst in the Old Testament, God was presented as creating by separation, the new creation we celebrate today is a creation that put together things that are seemingly impossible to reconcile, God and Man.

In a wonderful sermon on the Virgin Mother, Saint Bernard writes about this paradox and about the many wonders and prodigies of the Incarnation. In the Incarnation, he says, we can behold ‘Eternity shortened, Immensity contracted, Sublimity leveled down, Profundity made shallow. We can contemplate the Light without splendor, the Word without speech, Water which is thirsty, and Bread that feels hunger. We see Omnipotence being ruled, Omniscience being instructed, Virtue supported, God feeding at the breast whilst he nourishes the angels.’ But what is not less astonishing, in the Incarnation of our Lord, we can discover ‘sadness giving joy, fear producing confidence, suffering a source of health, death communicating life, weakness imparting strength.’ In a sense, the mystery of the Incarnation turns upside-down all our categories. We can see the beauty in a dying person in a hospital, not as if pain and suffering could give any meaning to anything at all, but simply because within flaws and rifts, we can discern the feeble strength and the discrete presence of the One who walks with us. Grass sometimes grows on the sand ...

So, the wonderful mystery of the Incarnation we celebrate today invites us to discern the mysterious presence of God, not outside, but within our lives. And this might be difficult to do, because sometimes, we do not accept the tenderness of God. We do not want a God crying and suffering. We would like a God in front of whom we bow, with incense, sparkling chasubles, gleaming liturgical vessels, and elaborated liturgy … and not a God kneeling. But the Incarnation of our Lord shows us that a God who manifests himself clearly as God is not God but simply the King of the World. God is with us. God is within us. Merry Christmas!

Christmas Eve - The Benedictus

Readings: 2 Samuel 7:1-5, 8b-12, 14a, 16; Psalm 89; Luke 1:67-79.

In today's gospel we have the prayer of Zechariah, otherwise known as the Benedictus after the first words of the prayer in Latin "Benedictus Dominus Deus Israel", "Blessed be the Lord the God of Israel". The Benedictus is the gospel canticle, or song, that is chanted at lauds (morning prayer). Lauds is one of the most ancient offices of the Latin Church and we know from the writings of St. Benedict that as early as the 6th century, if not earlier, the Benedictus constituted the high point of the office after the psalms. That this prayer was taken up verbatim and was given a central place in the prayer of the Church at such an early stage in the development of the Roman liturgy demonstrates how highly regarded it was by the people of God.

In the gospel narrative the prayer expresses the joy and thanks of Zechariah for God's work in his own life, in the life of his family, and the implications this will have for the whole world. When he was given the news of the conception of John the Baptist he lacked faith in the words of the angel. Because of his doubt he was struck silent - unable to express to others that which he was unable to believe. Contrast this episode with the annunciation of the birth of Our Lord Jesus to the Blessed Virgin by the archangel Gabriel. Our Lady does not doubt. Her question seeks seeks not a proof but an explanation: "how can this be?". Since Mary believed, she was able to find joy in the words of the angel and express it through her own canticle, the Magnificat. Zechariah, however, had to wait until the naming of St. John before he could demonstrate his faith and thus be free to sing the praises of the Lord.

In this day before the great feast of the Nativity let us pray for an increase in faith, hope and love, and for an evangelical zeal that, like Zechariah, we may be given by the Holy Spirit the words to preach to our world.

Advent Sunday 4 - God is with us

Readings: Isaiah 7:10-14; Psalm 23; Romans 1:1-7; Matthew 1:18-25

Today we are presented with two similar scenarios. Ahaz and St. Joseph are both in difficult situations. They have made up their minds on how to proceed, but then they hear the Word of God. Joseph is changed, but Ahaz is not.

Ahaz, King of Judah is living in fear for his life. Two armies are marching towards Jerusalem with the intention of deposing him. Faced with such a prospect, Ahaz puts his faith in his Assyrian allies. Isaiah comes to remind Ahaz that he should only place his faith in God. It is in this context that the sign of hope, the birth of Immanuel is prophesized – God’s promise that everything is going to be ok. Ahaz rejects the message quoting Deuteronomy as a rather feeble excuse.

Contrast this with Joseph, who no doubt could have found a passage of scripture to justify not taking Mary as his wife. Instead, he hears the Word of God and it changes him.

Faced with the problems of the world today, we should reflect on how we can be more like Joseph and less like Ahaz. Maybe the difference between Joseph and Ahaz is expressed in today’s psalm, Joseph being the man with clean hands and pure heart, who desires not worthless things. Where does that leave us whose hands and hearts are stained by sin? If we fully embrace the sacraments, our hands can be cleansed and our hearts purified. In this way we can grow into the Body of Christ. The prophecy is fulfilled – God is truly with us.

December 22 - Pregnant with Hope

Readings: 1 Sam 1:24-28; 1 Sam 2:1, 4-5, 6-7, 8; Luke 1:46-56

The song of Hannah - quoted in part in today's responsorial psalm - had a profound influence on Mary's song, the Magnificat, which we hear in the Gospel. Both these songs, spoken under the inspiration of the Spirit by women who are miraculously pregnant, are themselves pregnant with God's promise. Significantly, although the liturgical text does not cite this, Hannah ends her prayer with these words: "The Lord will judge the ends of the earth; he will give strength to his king, and exalt the power of his anointed." As we know, this promise is fulfilled in the child - the Son of the Most High - whom the Virgin Mary carries in her womb, and the Spirit who has opened Hannah's womb also opens her lips to speak her words of praise and prophecy. Every evening the same Spirit opens the lips of Holy Mother Church as she sings with one voice and for all ages, the hope-filled words of Mary who is the Church's "type and excellent exemplar in faith and charity" (Lumen Gentium, 53).

While Hannah's words are anticipatory, Mary's Magnificat is in a tense that indicates something already accomplished. As we sing these words each day and recall that still the rich and powerful lord it over the humble and meek, we may rightly wonder how it is that Mary's song (which is not, as some might be tempted to think, a socio-political manifesto) can be in the past tense?

Hannah certainly looked forward to the Christ child, the Redeemer promised to her people, but Mary and we, the Church, who are her children, have already entered into that long awaited promise. Unlike Hannah we no longer await Christ but rather, through our baptism, we have been reborn in the Spirit and become members of Christ's Body, the Church. It is this blessing that the Church is empowered to bear to all people. As Pope Benedict XVI has said: "When you [Mary] hastened with holy joy across the mountains of Judea to see your cousin Elizabeth, you became the image of the Church to come, which carries the hope of the world in her womb across the mountains of history."

However, like a pregnant woman, we Christians live not so much in anticipation of a promise but in hope, allowing the Spirit to fulfill in our lives that promise already accomplished in Christ. As St Paul says: "creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God" (Romans 8:19). Therefore, the Holy Father also said in his second encyclical, Spes Salvi, that hope "is the expectation of things to come from the perspective of a present that is already given. It is a looking-forward in Christ's presence, with Christ who is present, to the perfecting of his Body, to his definitive coming." Rooted in the first coming of Christ but looking forward to His return in glory - an event that would complete the prophecy in Hannah's song - Advent is thus pregnant with this essential dynamic of Christian hope. And this blessed hope founded upon faith in Christ is the most loving Christmas present we could give to those around us.

December 20 - Hindsight is 20/20

Readings: Isaiah 7:10-14; Psalm 24:1-2, 3-4ab, 5-6; Luke 1:26-38

Each Advent we hear a lot in our readings about John the Baptist. An experienced preacher once told me that it is hard going thinking of new and innovative ways of preaching about John as it gets towards this point in the season. Most of the things that are important to say have already been said by others earlier on. How do you say the same thing again, in a different way, when Fr. X said it so well the other week? Having said that, when we get to today's Gospel, that whole process of underlining the importance of John seems to me to have been well worth while. Why so, you may ask? Today's Gospel gives us the account of the Annunciation to Mary and not another part of the story of John the Baptist. In any case, the events in John's life that we have been focusing on up to this point - his preaching and call to repentance - are much later, years after the Annunciation.

Well, perhaps we are given a hint in the story of the Gospel about what the fruit of 'preparing a way for the Lord' might be for us. We know little about Mary's life, but our belief about her as full of grace, prefect in her obedience to the will of God, becomes important in understanding what it was that John was proclaiming. Mary's life was lived as complete receptivity to God's Word, so much so that she was able to allow that the Word became flesh through her. If we take John the Baptist's message, and use it as a frame with which to look back in history at the Annunciation, we see that preparing the way for the Lord means making ourselves ready for Christ to dwell in us, at the level of the individual and of the whole Church. Today the Church gives us the example of Mary as the icon of that receptivity which results from having lived a life of devotion to God. May we take her example to heart, and through her intercession, may we be made ready to receive her Son this Christmas.

Advent Tuesday 3 - Actions speak louder than words

Readings: Jeremiah 23:5-8; Psalm 71; Matthew 1:18-24

'Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid.' It is often said that actions speak louder than words. An overdone proverb perhaps, but nevertheless a wise one. St Joseph shows the truth of this proverb in today’s gospel. Joseph has a dream – like the Joseph of the Old Testament. In this dream an angel appears to him and tells him not to be afraid and to take Mary as his wife, for the son she is to bear is from the Holy Spirit. Joseph arises and is obedient to the angel’s command. He accepts the will of God and seeks wholeheartedly to follow it. This reminds us of the Lord’s later teaching in the Gospels: "it is not those who say ‘Lord, Lord’ who will enter the Kingdom of heaven, but those who do the will of the Father". St Joseph is for us a perfect example of this.

Today’s gospel passage has sometimes been seen to parallel the annunciation of the Angel Gabriel to the Virgin Mary in the Gospel of Luke. In this regard Pope John Paul II wrote that, with regard to what God asked of him through the angel, Joseph showed his readiness of will like that of Mary. In this sense, the words of Elizabeth spoken to Mary at the Visitation, “blessed is she who believed”, can be referred to Joseph as well. What Joseph did, the late pope remarks, ‘is the clearest “obedience of faith”’ (Redemptoris Custos 3 & 4).

Advent Monday 3 - What a family!

Readings: Genesis 49:2,8-10; Psalm 72; Matthew 1:1-17

When the Word became flesh it was into a very human family, a family of 'flesh and blood', as Herbert McCabe put it 'a lot of flesh and considerably more blood'. If you read about the lives and activities of the people mentioned in Matthew's genealogy you will see what he means (in Genesis, 1 and 2 Kings, Ruth, 1 and 2 Chronicles ...). Attention is often drawn to the women mentioned in the list - Tamar the mother of Perez, Rahab the mother of Boaz, Ruth the mother of Obed, Bathsheba the mother of Solomon, and Mary the mother of Jesus. There is something unusual about each of them. Rahab and Ruth are non-Hebrews, 'foreigners' through whom nevertheless God works to bring about the fulfillment of his promises. In some cases - Tamar and Bathsheba - the relationship through which they became the mother of an ancestor of Jesus had something dubious about it. The 'dysfunctional' character of these relationships, and the flawed lives of the men mentioned in the list, might surprise and even shock us, but on reflection is it not a reason for hope? We believe that the Word became flesh, not that he came near to us, or hovered over us, or dealt us a glancing blow like a tangent not really touching a circle. We believe that he became immersed in the dysfunctionality of human lives and relationships - all that we mean by 'sinful flesh' - and that it is by taking on what is ours that He made it possible for us to become what he is. Against this background the holiness of Mary, the mother of Jesus, stands out. Not that she is unreal: she is the most real of the people mentioned, the one living most fully in the light of truth, showing us the kindness and generosity that flow from the love of God, flesh and blood transfigured by grace.

Advent Sunday 3 - The desert shall blossom

Readings: Isaiah 35:1-6a,10; Psalm 146; James 5:7-10; Matthew 11:2-11

It has always struck me how dreary Advent can become. The absence of the joyful strains of 'Gloria' and the dark purple vestments counter the bright lights and happy singing of the commercial world. But today we are given a little reprieve from our waiting and given the opportunity to rejoice. Gaudete Sunday is like a practice-run of our Christmas celebration, and the rose-coloured vestments mark that contrast for us.

This liturgical practice reflects the manner in which our Christian hope is lived. In our lives, we experience the darkness of sin and evil. We are called to confront these realities, and to seek redemption through them. Yet we can already taste the freedom of our eternal salvation in Christ. This is why we can rejoice today. The reality of our waiting is truly bitter, but the reality of our redemption is truly at hand.

The Prophet Isaiah describes this paradox for us: the desert shall rejoice and blossom, those of weak heart and feeble knees should stand firm - our God comes with vengeance to save us. Our salvation has been revealed. Now we must wait patiently, wait as the farmer waits for his crops to grow. Our Lord is coming soon, he will not delay. We have no need to expect another. Let us rejoice in the knowledge of our Lord, and savour the sweetness of our salvation.

Advent Saturday 2 - The trap of authority

Readings Sirac 48:1-4, 9-11, Psalm 80, Matthew 17:9a, 10-13

It sounds quite dramatic what Jesus says about the scribes:

“Elijah has already come, and the scribes did not recognize him but did to him whatever they pleased. So also will the Son of Man suffer at their hands.”

Jesus does not say about them that they were wicked people, or murderers. But in a sense their fault is much heavier than that. Their approach to people was institutionalised and blindly chained to the letter of the law. This is how they misunderstood the preaching of John the Baptist and this is why they were about to start persecuting Jesus. Both men could not fit into the scribes’ understanding of how God’s salvation is going to come about. The scribes were figures of authority and for them to accept challenge from two young men, John and Jesus, who were neither important nor educated, was something unthinkable.
This is an ever present temptation in our own life, to presume that as long as we are in a position of authority whatever we do is going to be to somebody’s advantage. But do we care to listen with a keen ear to what others are telling us? Or do we just categorize them and force-feed them with our scheme of things?

We need to remember today perhaps even more than in the past, that it is the human person that is ‘the way of the Church’.

Advent Friday 2 - St John of the Cross

Readings: Is 48:17-19; Ps 1; Mt 11:16-19

Many people loathe Christmas. I do, too. But what I despise isn’t the solemnity of the Incarnation, the celebration of the Word becoming flesh, dwelling with us so that we could see his glory, but what our secular world has made of it: the saccharine conviviality, the relentless jolliness, the artificial cheer, the being penned up with people we spend the rest of the year avoiding – no wonder families fall apart under the pressure of the ‘festive’ season. Another hallmark of the pagan gluttony with which our contemporary culture has debased the religious feast is, of course, overtired, overstimulated, stressed out and thoroughly unpleasant children. Which brings me to today’s gospel.

In the passage we’ve heard Matthew depicts the contemporaries of the Baptist and Jesus as being like disagreeable children who complain that others do not meet their desires and expectations. One group complains that the others refuse to respond to either the wedding game “we piped for you, and you did not dance”, or the funeral game “we wailed, and you did not mourn”. The point is that there is no positive response to either Jesus or John by their opponents. This also has ecclesiological significance for ourselves today: both Jesus and John before us suffered rejection, but we should not let this discourage us from being alert to God’s commandments, from following him in the way we must go, as Isaiah has told us.

Certainly John of the Cross had every reason to be discouraged. In his attempt to lead his brothers back into the way they must go, he had been persuaded by Teresa of Avila to join the Discalced Reform, but was seized and imprisoned for a time by those who rejected it, and him. Some may find the stark demands of his mystical asceticism, his refusal to settle for anything less than God - with the concomitant dispossession of our usual religious sensibilities, the ‘dark night’ of the soul - a terrifying prospect. But it’s important to note that this is only a preliminary, which yields to an awareness of God as the centre of our being, of the world’s being, of the Spirit praying within us with words we do not know how to utter. The Carmelite stresses the experience of God in faith as a vision of the creator, as well as the “wise, ordered, gracious and loving mutual correspondence” among creatures (Spiritual Canticle B xxxix. 11.), in this perhaps against the somewhat over-individualistic assurance of faith emphasised by the churches of the Reformation.

Advent Thursday 2 - the Kingdon is taken by force

Readings: Isaiah 41:13-20, Psalm 145, Matthew 11:11-15.

From the days of John the Baptist until now, the Kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and the violent are taking it by force.

How is it possible for anybody to gain the kingdom of heaven by force? Who are these violent people and what is this force?

This force is not something we make ourselves do. This force is not something we make others do. This violent force is not something that does any harm to anybody.

The violence of this force is the violence with which we turn the order of the universe upside-down when we dare to call God our Father. This force is the courage with which the blind followed Jesus and cried aloud: "Have mercy on us, Son of David." This force is the persistent request of the Canaanite woman that her daughter be healed: “Lord, even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters' table." This force is the meekenss with which the good thief addressed his prayer: "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom." This force is the prayer of the Holy Spirit who cries in us when we pray.

I guess you have realized by now that these violent people are you and I, for whose sake the Word became flesh.

The Feast of the Immaculate Conception

Readings: Gen 3:9-15,20; Ps 97:1-4; Eph 1:3-6,11-12.

In 1854, Pope Pius IX defined the Doctrine of the Immaculate Conception in the Apostolic Constitution Ineffabilis Deus. The statement of the doctrine was that from the first instance of her conception, by a singular grace granted by God, Mary was preserved from all stain of original sin. One of the confusions that often arises with regard to the definition of a doctrine is how it can be that the Church can define a dogma with such certainty. To this, we may say that the definition is the culmination of centuries of theological reflection. The Feast of the Immaculate Conception has been celebrated by the Church since at least the ninth century, and the doctrine itself was developed and explained by theologians such as the Franciscan Blessed John Duns Scotus. In Ineffabilis Deus, we see that the doctrine as we now understand it draws on Scripture, and in particular, the understanding of certain passages which we find in today's readings, but also on the Tradition and liturgical practice of the Church.

Someone once remarked to me that they didn't think that the doctrine made any difference to them and their lives. However, when we think about it carefully, we realise that it makes all the difference. A much loved brother of this Province, now deceased, has become famous for saying that without Our Lady we would be 'in a right pickle'! And the Dogma shows us how Mary, being 'full of grace', is the New Eve, who having been preserved from original sin through grace, can utter that fiat which signals her acceptance of God's call to be the mother of Christ. The Dogma thus presents us with the good news that God has heard our cries, and comes to us as man through the obedience of Mary, to get us out of our 'pickle'. Surely this makes all the difference ...

Advent Friday 1 - Healing the blind

Readings: Isaiah 29:17-24; Psalm 26; Matthew 9:27-31

The gospel reading for today portrays Jesus as the great healer. It is one of a series of stories in Saint Matthew which tell of Jesus curing the sick. Here we see him restoring sight to two blind men. In all these stories of healing Jesus is shown to be the one who inaugurates the great age that the prophet Isaiah anticipates: 'In that day the deaf shall hear the words of a book, and out of their gloom and darkness the eyes of the blind shall see' (Isaiah 29:18). Yet the central theme of the reading is not in fact the miraculous or the dramatic healings but rather the issue of faith. In this story the absence of sight is understood not merely in terms of a physical disability, but stands as a symbol of unbelief which is a sort of spiritual blindness.

The two men in the gospel are cured of their blindness because of their faith. 'He touched their eyes saying. "Your faith deserves it, so let this be done for you." And their sight returned.' (Matthew 9:29-30). What sort of faith did these two men have? It is a faith that Jesus praises. It is also a faith that is enthusiastic to share the Good News with others. Yet is their faith completely mature? In their enthusiasm they do not appear to be completely responsive to the will of God. For as soon as they are healed they immediately disobey Jesus. He asks them not to talk about their cure, but instead they spread news of this miracle worker all over the countryside.

Faith is not something we possess fully from the beginning. Rather the Christian life is a journey of faith in which we seek to move ever closer to the Lord by attentively seeking to do his will. Advent is a time when this journey towards God is given particular liturgical expression. It is a special time to deepen our faith so that we might learn to know more completely the God who loves us and so welcome his light and truth into our lives when he comes at Christmas. Saint Ambrose, the fourth century bishop and doctor of the Church, whose feast we celebrate today, prayed: ‘Lord, teach me to seek You, and reveal Yourself to me when I seek You. For I cannot seek you unless You first teach me, nor find You, unless you first reveal yourself to me’.

Godzdogz: Some facts and figures...

The Godzdogz team has now been posting for over a year. The blog was launched on the 7th of November 2006, though things really started to take off with our daily Advent meditations.

In the last year:

• We have posted nearly 250 articles, reflections, news items and answers to your questions, along with many videos.


• The website has received around 110,000 hits.


• The average daily readership now stands at about 400.
  

One of the things that is striking is that our readers come from all over the world. The map above shows something of the typical geographical spread of our readers in any given 5-6 hour period (locations are indicated by the red 'balloons'). Most of our hits come from the United Kingdom and the USA, but we get hits from all around the world. Here is a list of countries our visitors come from, which is not exhaustive ...

... UK, USA, France,

Belgium, The Netherlands,

Spain, Germany, Luxembourg,

Switzerland, Ireland, Sweden, Norway,

Finland, Poland, Hungary, Russia, Latvia, Italy,

The Czech Republic, Lithuania, Portugal, Denmark, Malta,

Greece, Cyprus, Israel, Turkey, Qatar, India, Pakistan,

Sri Lanka, China, Japan, Hong Kong, Singapore,

Malaysia, Indonesia, Taiwan, South Korea,

New Zealand, Australia, Mexico, Belize,

Argentina, Uruguay, Peru, Chile,

Barbados, Jamaica, Grenada,

South Africa, Lesotho...

Coming soon on Godzdogz: more articles on Dominican Saints, answers to your Quodlibet questions, new daily Advent reflections and much more....

Thank you for visiting Godzdogz! If you have any comments, questions, requests or ideas as to how the site might be improved, please email godzdogz@gmail.com

Not fanaticism but radical love

"Peter began to say to him, "Lo, we have left everything and followed you." Jesus said, "Truly, I say to you, there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or lands, for my sake and for the gospel, who will not receive a hundredfold now in this time, houses and brothers and sisters and mothers and children and lands, with persecutions, and in the age to come eternal life." - Mark 10:28-30

Fr Peter Hunter OP preached at Mass for the feast of All Saints of the Dominican order (7 November) and the Gospel appointed for the feast is that given above. The homily inspired his hearers and we hope that it will give Godzdogz readers an appreciation of our life and hopes.

Fr Bob Ombres once told me a story of travelling in his native Naples. He was talking to a man who told him he was a Catholic. Fr Ombres expressed interest and asked the man where he went to church. Puzzled, the man replied, “Cattolico, non fanatico!”

Yet, religious life can seem in today’s world like fanaticism, a wide-eyed pursuit of an ideal, giving up all sorts of important things in this pursuit. Jesus, in the Gospel appointed for today’s feast (Mark 10:28-30) talks about leaving family and property for his sake and for the Gospel. Isn’t that rather fanatical?

The same Fr Ombres said to me when he heard that I had made the decision to make final vows in the Order, “I’m so glad! If you really throw yourself into it, the life will make you very happy.” But can this kind of wide-eyed pursuit, this kind of fanaticism, make you happy?

The feast we celebrate today, the feast of All Saints of the Order of Preachers, is our more parochial version of the universal Church’s celebration of All Saints. That it makes sense to celebrate it at all is confirmation that the Dominican way of life is rich enough and wide enough to be a way of holiness. That is to say, it says that after all, the Dominican way of life is a way to be happy.

What is this way of life? Our Order is dedicated to the study and preaching of the truth of the Gospel. And when we characterise it like that, we see that commitment to this life cannot be fanatical. It cannot be fanatical because it is, we now see, not a wide-eyed pursuit of an ideal, but based on the love of a person. Loving the truth of the Gospel is ultimately nothing other than loving Jesus. The Dominican saints, no less than the apostles, leave family and property not for an ideal, but out of love for the Son of God. This means that this following, while radical, is not fanatical but reasonable and human.

An early Dominican expressed a worry (perhaps a tongue-in-cheek one) that the life gave him so much joy and hence could not be a way to heaven for him. But it was for him, and it is for us, if we give ourselves to it f