The Beauty of the Catholic Faith, Part I

This is the first installment in an eight-part series that reflects on fundamental Catholic beliefs as expressed in the Creed. This series is based on a set of talks given at Faith, Hope and Charity Parish in Winnetka, IL. There will be four main topics, each divided into two sections: (1) “Reflecting on the Mystery of God”; (2) “Gazing on the Face of Christ”; (3)” Being Church in a Secular Society”; (4)” Living in Hope: What Catholics Believe about Death and Eternal Life”

Reflecting on the Mystery of God (I)

I. The Topic Today

While most Catholics take belief in God for granted, we do not find that to be the case amongst all the people with whom we live and work. It is a truism to say that we live in a “secular society.” Sociologists who study the practice of religion throughout the world actually tell us that the United States is one of the most “religious” societies in the industrialized world. The percentage of people who profess belief in God, say that they pray, and engage in some form of religious practice is higher than in most of the countries in Europe, for example. Still, most of us know from experience that there are a significant number of people who seem to approach their lives without much reference to God or to the transcendent. And sometimes the separation between Church and state that is fundamental to our Constitution can lead to a devaluing of religion in society at large.

On a more personal level, each of us has to grapple with our image of God in light of our own psychological and spiritual development. I have certainly found that to be the case in my own life and have encountered it in a particularly intense way in the retreat ministry in which I have engaged. All kinds of factors are involved in the development of our image of God, including our experience of parents and other authority figures in our lives, our overall sense of well-being, our experiences of failure and forgiveness (or lack thereof), and the education in our faith that we have received from early childhood. It is often the case that we need to reflect on our image of God and to allow that “picture” to be refined and enriched by the Scriptures and the tradition of our faith.

Perhaps the one experience in life that most impacts upon our image of God is that of suffering. Through the ages, down to the present day, people of faith have struggled with the mystery of personal and global suffering in light of belief in a God of power and goodness. Christian faith does not make suffering less of an issue for believers. In fact, belief in a God who is all-good and who wants what is best for us impels us to grapple with the mystery of suffering all the more. The great contemplatives of our tradition (e.g., Teresa of Avila, John of the Cross, Julian of Norwich) bear witness to this struggle. In our own lives, the experience of intense and often inexplicable suffering can sometimes lead to a crisis in our relationship with God.

II. Insights from the Scriptures

The Old Testament

The revelation of God in Jesus Christ is rooted in, and very closely connected to, the experience of God that is articulated in the Old Testament. The foundational experience of God for the Hebrew people emerged from the Exodus. This was an encounter with the divine that resulted in freedom – the liberation of a small, insignificant band of slaves from an oppressive existence in Egypt. Moreover, ancient Israel believed that God had formed these people into a nation and led them to a land where they could flourish. The famous “eagle wings” passage in Exodus expresses these fundamental beliefs with eloquence:

This passage shows that the people of ancient Israel experienced God as one who gives freedom and identity to the lowly. They came to believe that God graciously enters into relationship, forms a covenant with them. Through this covenant they understood themselves to be a “holy nation.” They are “holy” (qados) not primarily because of their intrinsic goodness; rather they are a holy nation because they belong to the holy God. They are God’s “special possession.” They will come to envision the God of the covenant as the one who guides them through the dangers of the wilderness and leads them home.

In his encounter with God in the burning bush, Moses asks for the “name” of God. For the people of the ancient Near East, to know someone’s name meant that you had access to them. The name that is given to Moses is filled with mystery – “I am who am” (Exod 3:14). This is the basis for the Tetragrammaton in Hebrew (YHWH), signifying the divine name, which our Jewish brothers and sisters believe to be too sacred to be uttered aloud. Biblical scholars debate the translation of this name, some preferring more of a present reference (“I am”) and others opting for more of a reference to the future (“I will be”). Whichever interpretation is chosen, the name connotes sovereignty and trustworthiness. God is sovereign over creation and history and, for the people of Israel, God freely reveals himself in a particular way within human history. And God is the one who can be trusted to remain with the people as they move into the future. This will lead to the Old Testament emphasis on God’s “steadfast love” (hesed) and “reliability” (emet).

For the people of Israel, God was so real to them, so much a part of their lives, they knew that they could (and they should) bring every kind of human experience to God in prayer. This compelling honesty is evident in many places in the Hebrew Scriptures, most notably in the Psalms. As one surveys the 150 psalms, one discovers in this “official prayer book” the entire range of human emotions. Curiously, of all the different forms of psalms (praise, thanksgiving, contrition, petition), laments are the most numerous. Psalm 88 is a good example of this honest crying out to God in the midst of pain: “But I cry to you, Lord; in the morning my prayer comes before you. Why do you reject me, Lord? Why hide your face from me?” (Psalm 88:14-15). This psalm is prayed on Friday night in the Church’s Liturgy of the Hours. Christians are meant to hear in it the voice of Jesus in his passion. The people of Israel were convinced that God could be trusted enough to listen to the most human of prayers, even those in which “negative” emotions were expressed with stark honesty.

The New Testament

As an observant Jew, Jesus of Nazareth would have assumed and been schooled in the experience of God that was fundamental to the tradition of Israel. But he also knew that, through his own ministry and his very person, God was acting in a new and powerful way to gather and restore his people. And thus he proceeded to proclaim the reign of God: “After John had been arrested, Jesus came to Galilee proclaiming the gospel of God: ‘This is the time of fulfillment. The kingdom of God is at hand. Repent and believe in the gospel” (Mark 1:14-15). This proclamation of the reign of God had a dynamic meaning to it: God was acting powerfully in Jesus to be present to his beloved creation. Nowhere does Jesus offer us a “Webster’s definition” of the kingdom of God. Rather he “defines” it with his actions, his parables, and his encounters with others. Cardinal Walter Kasper speaks of the kingdom of God as the sovereignty of God’s love (Jesus the Christ, 80-1). Edward Schillebeeckx says that the nearness of the kingdom in Jesus’ preaching and actions means the proximity of God’s unconditional will to salvation, of reconciling clemency and sufficing graciousness; it bespeaks a God who is bent upon humanity (Jesus: An Experiment in Christology, 140). In his meditation on the Lord’s Prayer, Pope Benedict XVI says, “To pray for the kingdom of God is to say to Jesus: Let us be yours, Lord! Pervade us, live in us; gather scattered humanity in your body …” (Jesus of Nazareth, 147).

Jesus proclaimed this reign of God in word and deed. We hear about it in those unnerving stories that we call “parables.” And Jesus communicates the meaning of the reign of God through his encounters with others, especially those most in need. Immediately after his description of Jesus’ initial proclamation of the kingdom, Mark gives us a series of “snapshots” about this proclamation which include: the cure of a demoniac in the Capernaum synagogue; the healing of Peter’s mother-in-law; Jesus’ personal prayer in a deserted place; the cleansing of a leper; the healing of the paralytic who is lowered through the roof by his four friends. Mark is telling us that when the reign of God became present in Jesus, people found life. Those who had had the life drained out of them through illness, the forces of evil, and exclusion from community found life again through their encounter with Jesus. The evangelists call these deeds of healing “acts of power” (dynameis). The late Scripture scholar, Raymond Brown, wrote that Jesus’ healings and exorcisms were not meant as external proofs of his authority or status; rather they were one of the means by which the kingdom came. “The acts of power were weapons Jesus used to reclaim people and the world from the domination of evil. When Jesus healed the sick or resuscitated the dead, he was breaking the Satanic power that manifested itself in illness and death” (Introduction to NT Christology, 64-65). The presence of the reign of God in Jesus affected the whole person – body, mind and spirit. It meant the restoration of God’s beloved creation. One is reminded of the famous saying of Irenaeus of Lyon, a great second century bishop and theologian: “The glory of God is the human being fully alive.” What makes God really happy is when people find life, in the deepest and fullest sense of that term.

This revelation of God in Jesus reached its climax in his death and resurrection. As Jesuit theologian Gerald O’Collins puts it, the experience of the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus gave Christians “a fresh understanding of God” (Christology, 100). First of all, this experience showed them that God can be found in the midst of suffering – even in the shameful and horrific death of the crucified one. Paul will reflect on this mystery in his first letter to the Corinthians, when he speaks of the wisdom and foolishness of the cross. But there was more. The powerful experience of the risen Jesus revealing himself to his disciples showed that the God who was present at the cross is also the God who acts to bring life out of death. As O’Collins observes, this experience convinced followers of Jesus that God is the “Resurrector.” The God of Jesus Christ – the God he proclaimed and made present, the God he addressed as “Abba,” the God to whom he prayed in the garden of Gethsemane – is the God who is on the move to bring life out of death. For Christians, this in fact is “what God does for a living.”

Robin Ryan, CP