In our Gospel today, Christ calls us to love our neighbor as ourselves. We have several upcoming events at Newman designed to help you do exactly that, including an upcoming Faith and Food about charity and Christian living and participation in the 40 Days for Life campaign. Read all about these and more in this week’s bulletin: Bulletin-2014-10-26
By Fr. John Nepil
Around the year 130 AD, a Christian wrote these words in a letter to Diognetus, the tutor of Marcus Aurelius:
“[Christians] reside in their own nations, but as resident aliens.
They participate in all things as citizens and endure all things as foreigners. . . .
They obey the established laws and their way of life surpasses the laws. . . .
So noble is the position to which God has assigned them that they are not allowed to desert it.”
In every age, the experience of the Christian is that of a resident alien, a life as both resident citizen and alien foreigner. What makes his calling so noble is the tension that he is forced to live in. As a resident, he is obliged to care for the common good in civic life; as an alien he is obliged to transcend the civic realm and hope solely in the supreme good. And the presence of this tension is essential for evangelization. Regarding his civic duty to vote, he will always be tempted in two ways to collapse this tension – political despair (opting not to vote) and political presumption (opting for party affiliation). Both destroy Christian hope and compromise integrity. In light of this great challenge, we recognize the need of a guide.
If we are resident aliens obliged to vote, does the Church really have the right to be our guide? Here is the logic:
(1) Man is by nature a political animal (Aristotle, Politics, I)
(2) God became man in Jesus Christ (John 1:14)
(3) The Church is the body of Jesus Christ (1 Cor 12:27)
(4) Therefore: God, in Jesus Christ, became a political animal.
(5) Therefore: The body of Jesus Christ, the Catholic Church, is a political reality.
If the Church is a divinely founded guide in the political reality, what does she say about voting?
1. Principles, not policy. A principle is a foundational presupposition; a policy is a proposed action. Principles are philosophical and governed by natural law; policy is pragmatic and governed by positive law. The health of a political society is determined by how it adheres its policy to the principles of natural law.
2. Issues according to Order. Because principles are governed by nature, they follow an inherent natural order; therefore, the logic of this order does not follow human preferences and transcends all sociological conditioning. A principled, consistent ethic will engage every issue, but according to the right order:
(2) Creation of Life
(3) Conditions of Life
The dignity of human life is the unquestionable first principle and foundation, upon which everything stands or falls. Second to it in the natural order is the creation of life; for without the proper definition of marriage and sexuality, there is no creation of life. Thirdly, we engage the multi-various issues concerning the conditions of life; immigration reform, healthcare, economic stimulus, employment, poverty, etc. All issues must be considered, but always according to order.
There is nothing more threatening and bizarre to our contemporary political climate than the resident alien, principled and guided by the Church. This foreign presence is essential for the new evangelization, for “in order for the faith to be heard, for its message to be understood, those that proclaim it must be willing to be separated from the world by their faith (Madeleine Delbrel).” Though rejected, we heed to consoling words of Christ the night before his passion; “If you were of the world, the world would love its own; but you are not of the world, for I chose you out of the world (Jn 15:19).”
By Will Duquette
When I was rather younger, and attending an evangelically-flavored Episcopal parish, I participated in a program called Evangelism Explosion. In a nutshell, EE was a program to train parishioners to go door-to-door presenting the gospel; it involved memorizing dozens of pertinent scripture references (we had flash cards) and a detailed outline of a presentation of the Gospel, culminating in an invitation to give your life to Jesus.
One part of the presentation was a personal testimony about the wonderful effects of becoming a Christian. It was supposed to have this flavor: Before I was a Christian, I had problems X, Y, and Z. And then I came to know Christ, and now I have blessings A, B, and C instead. It was the sort of pitch that would work just as well for a floor wax as for the resurrected Son of God. Mind you, it was possible to define X, Y, and Z as real spiritual problems, and A, B, and C as real spiritual blessings; but the tendency was otherwise, it seemed to me even then.
It wasn’t until I became a Catholic that I really saw what was wrong with this kind of testimony: it makes it sound like becoming a Christian will always make your life better right now, in just the same worldly way that buying a new appliance or a better kind of deodorant will make your life better.
But Christ nowhere promises us a comfortable and easy life. On the contrary. He promises us eternal bliss in Heaven, but here on Earth he promises us the Cross and the Crown of Thorns.
Consider a member of the ISIS forces in the middle east. Suppose that such a man were visited by the Lord in a vision, as St. Paul was, and asked, “Ahmed, Ahmed, why are you persecuting me?” And suppose he responded as St. Paul did. The remainder of his (possibly quite brief) life would no doubt be filled with interest, but I doubt it could be called “comfortable” or “easy”. But Ahmed would be crowned with a martyr’s crown in Heaven.
Pope Francis speaks of this kind of Christian suffering in paragraph 56 of Lumen Fidei.
Writing to the Christians of Corinth about his sufferings and tribulations, Saint Paul links his faith to his preaching of the Gospel. In himself he sees fulfilled the passage of Scripture which reads: “I believed, and so I spoke” (2 Cor 4:13). The reference is to a verse of Psalm 116, in which the psalmist exclaims: “I kept my faith, even when I said, ‘I am greatly afflicted’” (v. 10). To speak of faith often involves speaking of painful testing, yet it is precisely in such testing that Paul sees the most convincing proclamation of the Gospel, for it is in weakness and suffering that we discover God’s power which triumphs over our weakness and suffering. The apostle himself experienced a dying which would become life for Christians (cf. 2 Cor 4:7-12). In the hour of trial faith brings light, while suffering and weakness make it evident that “we do not proclaim ourselves; we proclaim Jesus Christ as Lord” (2 Cor 4:5). The eleventh chapter of the Letter to the Hebrews concludes with a reference to those who suffered for their faith (cf. Heb 11:35-38); outstanding among these was Moses, who suffered abuse for the Christ (cf. v. 26).Christians know that suffering cannot be eliminated, yet it can have meaning and become an act of love and entrustment into the hands of God who does not abandon us; in this way it can serve as a moment of growth in faith and love. By contemplating Christ’s union with the Father even at the height of his sufferings on the cross (cf. Mk 15:34), Christians learn to share in the same gaze of Jesus. Even death is illumined and can be experienced as the ultimate call to faith, the ultimate “Go forth from your land” (Gen 12:1), the ultimate “Come!” spoken by the Father, to whom we abandon ourselves in the confidence that he will keep us steadfast even in our final passage.
(My emphasis.) Indeed, suffering cannot be eliminated; it goes hand in hand with the decision to love. Any attempt to eliminate all suffering in my life leads to my isolation, and the cutting off of all ties of love, and ultimately an eternity of loneliness, bitterness, and despair.
But personal suffering can be embraced, and offered up, and become redemptive. Paul said,
Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I complete what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the church… (Col 1:24)
Mind you, I’m not advocating needless suffering. If you’re suffering due to a cause that’s fixable, by all means fix it. (For example, I do not suggest you stay with an abusive partner just because it’s an opportunity for redemptive suffering. Prudence applies.)
Christ died, once for all, and his sacrifice suffices; but of his grace and generosity he allows us to participate in his sacrifice. Without this, our suffering is meaningless; with it, we are participating in the salvation of the world. Glory to God!