Verbis et Operibus

Where to Begin?

2012-02-10T16:05:00.000Z

09.02.2012

Begin with the heart, for the spring of life arises from the heart.
— MEISTER ECKHART, OP

Da Insensatez dos Santos

2012-02-02T09:21:00.006Z

02.02.2012

A sessão será na próxima sexta-feira, 17 de fevereiro. Os trailers de Sem Abrigo e A Pena Perdida podem ser visto aqui e aqui, respetivamente. Um abraço para o José Oliveira.
Eis alguns pensamentos que me surgiram depois de uma conversa um pouco frustrante sobre S. Francisco e os primeiros Franciscanos.
Não há santo que não seja visto como insensato, ontem como hoje. Essa insensatez não é loucura, mas temeridade — e isso nada tem de ingénuo. Estes homens e mulheres habitaram e habitam o mesmo mundo que nós habitamos. Em princípio, nada os distingue de nós. As escolhas únicas que fizeram, fazem deles santos aos nossos olhos, cada um e cada uma à sua maneira. A sua santidade particular é o culminar da sua identidade. São completamente humanos, isto é, verdadeiramente livres, íntimos de Deus. Agarram a totalidade da vida, moldando-a no exercício da sua liberdade, agindo apenas por amor. Porque como escreveu Georges Bernanos em Jeanne relapse et sainte “a santidade é uma aventura, é na realidade a única aventura”.

The Holy Secret Is Laid Bare

2012-02-01T12:48:00.000Z

01.02.2012

With imagination you don’t have to travel far to find God — only notice things. The finite and the infinite live in the same place. It is here alone, at this precarious point, that the holy secret is laid bare. “I live in this world by attention.”
— SIMONE WEIL

Christ Has No Body

2012-01-24T00:02:00.003Z

24.01.2012

Christ has no body but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
Compassion on this world,
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.

Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,
Yours are the eyes, you are his body.

Christ has no body now but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
compassion on this world.

Christ has no body now on earth but yours.
— ST. TERESA OF AVILA (TERESA OF JESUS), OCD

Curso de Comunicação e Pregação

2012-01-18T19:49:00.001Z

18.01.2012

O Instituto São Tomás de Aquino, situado no Convento de São Domingos em Lisboa, propõe um novo curso composto por sete conferências:

O verdadeiro nome dos dominicanos é “Ordem dos Pregadores”. S. Domingos de Gusmão criou esta Ordem para a “santa pregação” e são já 800 anos de experiência e prática de pregação que queremos partilhar com todos os que desejem aprender ou aperfeiçoar esta arte de comunicar.
Que nos ensinam os grandes pregadores? Como preparar seriamente uma pregação? Quais as leis da comunicação que a pregação terá de respeitar? Será a revelação de Deus um modelo de comunicação? Que diversos modelos e públicos podem inspirar a nossa pregação?
Com este curso se procura, pois, uma iniciação teórico-prática à imprescindível tarefa eclesial da pregação. (Fr. José Nunes, OP, P. Provincial)
28 JAN.
Fr. Bento Domingues, OP, “A Pregação na Tradição Dominicana (a Graça da Pregação)”
11 FEV.
Fr. Francolino Gonçalves, OP, “A Palavra de Deus como Comunicação”
18 FEV.
Fr. José Manuel, OP, “Os Sermões do Mestre Eckhart”
Fr. José Carlos, OP, “Fr. João Franco, um Sermão do Século XVIII”
25 FEV.
Fr. José Nunes, OP, “As Modalidades Clássicas da Pregação”
3 MAR.
Paulo Rocha, “A Arte de Comunicar”
17 MAR.
Fr. Rui Grácio, OP, “Do Silêncio à Palavra: A Espiritualidade da Pregação”
Horário: das 15h às 16:30h
Entrada livre

Doutores da Igreja Dominicanos

2012-01-13T13:44:00.009Z

13.01.2012

Os Doutores da Igreja são santas e santos que contribuíram para o desenvolvimento da doutrina e espiritualidade cristãs e católicas, com particular autoridade e originalidade. A declaração de um Doutor da Igreja é rara. Neste momento, o grupo é composto por 33 homens e mulheres.
O estudo é um dos pilares da espiritualidade da Ordem dos Pregadores (OP) — os outros são o apostolado, a comunidade, e a oração. Não é de estranhar, portanto, que esta seja uma das ordens que mais Doutores deu à Igreja: três no total, dois religiosos, os frades Sto. Alberto Magno (1206-1280) e o seu aluno S. Tomás de Aquino (1225-1274), e uma leiga, Sta. Catarina de Sena (1347-1380).
A Ordem dos Carmelitas Descalços (OCD) é a única com o mesmo número de Doutores da Igreja. O grupo de três inclui os dois fundadores da ordem, S. João da Cruz (1542–1591) e Sta. Teresa de Ávila (1515–1582), e a “pequena flor” Sta. Teresa de Lisieux (1873-1897). Seja como for, S. Tomás é considerado o maior teólogo e filósofo da Igreja. É chamado de Doctor Communis, exactamente por ser considerado mestre de todos e em todos os tópicos teológicos e filosóficos.

Eastern Catholic Churches

2012-01-12T18:22:00.008Z

12.01.2012

The Eastern Catholic churches are self-governing as well as part of the Catholic community, in full communion with the Bishop of Rome, the Pope. They are therefore designated by the Latin expression sui iuris (of one’s own right). In contrast with Latin Catholic, Byzantine Catholic and Greek Catholic describe those who belong to these churches that use the Byzantine Rite. The terms Oriental or Eastern Catholic are broader, given that they also cover Catholics who follow the Alexandrian, Antiochian, Armenian, or Chaldean liturgical traditions. The Church is always bigger than we think.
This is a list of the 22 Eastern Catholic Churches:

Albanian Byzantine Catholic Church (Albania)
Armenian Catholic Church (Armenia)
Belarusian Greek Catholic Church (Belarus)
Bulgarian Greek Catholic Church (Bulgaria)
Chaldean Catholic Church (Iraq)
Coptic Catholic Church (Egypt)
Eparchy of Krizevci (Croatia)
Ethiopian Catholic Church (Ethiopia)
Greek Byzantine Catholic Church (Greece)
Hungarian Byzantine Catholic Church (Hungary)
Italo-Albanian Byzantine Catholic Church (Italy)
Macedonian Greek Catholic Church (Macedonia)
Maronite Catholic Church (Lebanon)
Melkite Greek-Catholic Church (Syria)
Romanian Greek-Catholic Church (Romania)
Russian Catholic Church (Russia)
Ruthenian Byzantine Catholic Church (Ukraine)
Slovak Byzantine Catholic Church (Slovakia)
Syriac Catholic Church (Lebanon)
Syro-Malabar Catholic Church (India)
Syro-Malankara Catholic Church (India)
Ukrainian Greek-Catholic Church (Ukraine)

Love Is Not Taught

2012-01-11T14:41:00.006Z

11.01.2012

The love of God is not taught. No one has taught us to enjoy the light or to be attached to life more than anything else. And no one has taught us to love the two people who brought us into the world and educated us. Which is all the more reason to believe that we did not learn to love God as a result of outside instruction. In the very nature of every human being has been sown the seed of the ability to love. You and I ought to welcome this seed, cultivate it carefully, nourish it attentively and foster its growth by going to the school of God’s commandments with the help of His grace.
— ST. BASIL OF CAESAREA

Crer Entendendo, Entender Crendo

2012-01-10T12:50:00.001Z

10.01.2012

Sto. Anselmo disse que cria para entender. Pouco depois, no séc. XII, o teólogo e filósofo Pedro Abelardo declarava que entendia de modo a crer. S. Tomás de Aquino concordou com ambos mais tarde. A fé é um movimento dinâmico, entre a crença e o entendimento, o entendimento e a crença. Depende dos dois para se aprofundar e nos ir habitando — vamos crendo naquilo que entendemos e entendendo aquilo em que cremos.

Illuminate

2011-12-28T10:09:00.008Z

28.12.2011

What has constrained me? Not my virtues, but only Your charity. May that same charity constrain You to illuminate the eye of my intellect with the light of faith, so that I may know and understand the truth which You have manifested to me.
— ST. CATHERINE OF SIENA, OP, The Dialogue

Just as it is better to illuminate than merely to shine, so to pass on what one has contemplated is better than merely to contemplate.
— ST. THOMAS AQUINAS, OP, Summa Theologica

On Faith

2011-12-27T10:24:00.011Z

27.12.2011

Faith is one of the most misunderstood concepts in religion. There is a difference between faith and blind faith and there is a connection between reason and faith, understood as belief and trust. As St. Augustine says, we are invited to faith.
These two videos by Fr. Robert Barron discuss this topic in a clear and absorbing way. Fr. Barron lives in Chicago, received his doctorate in Theology from the Institut Catholique de Paris. He is one of the brightest contemporary Catholic scholars and speakers — his YouTube videos are all unmissable, including his film analyses from a spiritual perspective.

Denise Levertov, Poet of the Divine

2011-12-15T14:00:00.029Z

15.12.2011

I have a rule in my effort to provide access to Catholic writings: I always post two entries at the same time, one of a man, one of a woman. It has been difficult to abide by this rule. Unfortunately, and this reflects the sexism that governed the last twenty one centuries to which the Church has not been immune, there are not that many female members of the Catholic community who left us writings (or any thing) — even though they have been greater in number. Of course, women did other things, their works of charity were often connected with taking care of the poor and the sick. And if we truly understand what is being a Christian, the kind of service it entails, we must praise, not downplay these actions. Still, for every St. Catherine of Siena there are more than twenty men. Besides these facts about quantity, there is the matter of the lack of the particular qualities of the female expression that is detrimental to the diversified unity of the Church. It is therefore urgent that contemporary Catholic women take up the challenge to use their talents for philosophy, theology, writing, painting, drawing, sculpture, architecture, photography, film, theatre, dance, music. An extraordinary recent example was the meditations on the Via Crucis present by Sr. Maria Rita Piccione in Rome, following an invitation by Pope Benedict XVI, and released online with drawings by Sr. Elena Maria Manganelli here. Both of them belong to the Order of St. Augustine.
My resolute attempts to comply with the rule have resulted in amazing discoveries. I have already written about Carolyn Forché. Some time ago, I came across another outstanding female poet: Denise Levertov (1923-97). She was British, but moved to the United States after her marriage with American writer Mitchell Goodman in 1947. Her father was a Russian Hassidic Jew who became an Anglican priest. Denise was an agnostic for most of her life. Finally, she converted to Christianity in 1984 and five years later she became a Catholic. It is never too late. Yet given this path, it is no surprise then that her poetry became the site where she expressed and liberated an ardent, subtle, evocative, and concrete vision of God (a powerful Catholic vision, in short). Here is “Annunciation”, an apt poem one week after the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, presented in its original graphic form:

Hail, space for the uncontained God
          — from the 6th cent. Greek “Agathistos Hymn”

We know the scene: the room, variously furnished,
almost always a lectern, a book; always
the tall lily.
                     Arrived on solemn grandeur of great wings,
the angelic ambassador, standing or hovering,
whom she acknowledges, a guest.
But we are told of meek obedience. No one mentions
courage.
                     The engendering Spirit
did not enter her without consent.
                                            God waited.
She was free
to accept or to refuse, choice
integral to humanness.
______________________
Aren’t there annunciations
of one sort or another
in most lives?
                    Some unwillingly
undertake great destinies,
enact them in sullen pride,
uncomprehending.
            More often
those moments
     when roads of light and storm
     open from darkness in a man or woman,
are turned away from
in dread, in a wave of weakness, in despair
and with relief.
Ordinary lives continue.
                                  God does not smite them.
But the gates close, the pathway vanishes.
______________________
She had been a child who played, ate, slept
like any other child – but unlike others,
wept only for pity, laughed
in joy not triumph.
Compassion and intelligence
fused in her, indivisible.
Called to a destiny more momentous
than any in all of Time,
she did not quail,
                          only asked
a simple, “How can this be?”
and gravely, courteously,
took to heart the angel’s reply,
perceiving instantly
the astounding ministry she was offered:
to bear in her womb
Infinite weight and lightness; to carry
in hidden, finite inwardness,
nine months of Eternity; to contain
in slender vase of being,
the sum of power —
in narrow flesh,
the sum of light.
                   Then bring to birth,
push out into air, a Man-child
needing, like any other,
milk and love —

but who was God.

Nos 500 anos do Sermão de Montesinos

2011-12-13T01:31:00.002Z

13.12.2011

A Ordem dos Pregadores propõe uma série de eventos em volta do conhecido sermão do frade dominicano António de Montesinos, que ficou na História como a primeira defesa dos direitos naturais e humanos dos índios americanos:

Foi no IV Domingo do Advento do ano de 1511 que na ilha de Santo Domingo de La Hispaniola, actual República Dominicana e Haiti, que Fr. António de Montesinos, em nome da Comunidade, prega um sermão em que defende os direitos dos índios:
Com que direito e com que justiça tendes estes índios em tão cruel e horrível servidão? Com que autoridade fizestes tão detestáveis guerras a estas gentes que estavam nas suas terras, mansas e pacíficas, onde consumistes um número infindável delas com mortes e estragos nunca ouvidos? Como é que os tendes tão oprimidos e esgotados, sem lhes dar de comer nem curar as suas doenças, que pelos excessivos trabalhos a que os sujeitais vos morrem, melhor será dizer, os matais, para arrancarem e, conseguirem ouro todos os dias. E que cuidado tendes em que sejam doutrinados e conheçam o seu Deus e criador, sejam baptizados, oiçam missa, guardem as festas e domingos? Estes não são homens? Não têm almas racionais? Não sois obrigados a amá-los como a vós mesmos? Não entendeis isto?
Este sermão, recolhido por Fr. Bartolomeu de Las Casas, na sua História das Índias, tornou-se o grande testemunho de uma Igreja perto dos pobres e dos indefesos, abrindo uma dimensão profética da justiça e paz.
Nós, Dominicanos, iremos assinalar este acontecimento, quinhentos anos depois, nas mesmas datas litúrgicas e históricas, com as seguintes actividades:
SÁB., 17 DEZ.
Retiro de Advento (9:30-18h), sob o tema por caminhos da justiça e da verdade. (inscrição até 15 Dez., 15 euros)
P. Tolentino Mendonça, “É pela Sede que se Aprende a Água?: O Paradoxal Caminho das Bem-Aventuranças”
Fr. Rui Grácio, OP, “O Sermão de Montesinos, Hoje, Aqui e Agora: Algumas Perguntas, Desafios e Tarefas”

DOM., 18 DEZ.
Missa do IV Domingo do Advento (12h), com a distribuição de uma cópia do Sermão de Montesinos.

SEG., 19 DEZ.
Exibição do filme También la lluvia (2010) (21h), real. Icíar Bollaín, com Gael García Bernal, Luis Tosar e Karra Elejalde. (entrada livre)

QUAR., 21 DEZ.
Sermão de Montesinos (21:30h), lido por Luís Miguel Cintra e complementado com o canto de peças gregorianas de Advento. (entrada livre)

Local: Convento de São Domingos
R. João de Freitas Branco 12, Lisboa
Informações: 210322300

Luz da Confiança

2011-12-12T01:17:00.000Z

12.12.2011

Ontem terminámos a Missa do 3.º Domingo do Advento com esta oração:

Senhor Deus, Pai de Jesus:
Escolheste alguns profetas, como Isaías e João Batista, para preparar o caminho de Jesus.
Tinhas uma grande confiança neles e protegeste-os com todo o Teu amor.
Também eu desejo ouvir os outros e mostrar-lhes que podem contar comigo.
Ajuda-me a continuar a tua cadeia de amor e de confiança.
Ámen.

沈黙

2011-12-11T09:52:00.004Z

11.12.2011

The title of this post reads Chinmoku, which means Silence. It is the name of a famous novel written by Shūsaku Endō (1923–96), published in 1966. Martin Scorsese is now adapting it to film. It is great news that Scorsese is returning to directly spiritual topics. Although we may say that his films are always about the struggles of the soul, as Shutter Island (2010) demonstrates, this kind of direct engagement has not happened since the late 1990s with Kundun (1997) and Bringing Out the Dead (1999).
The book tells the story of a Portuguese Jesuit missionary, Fr. Sebastião Rodrigues (based on the historical figure Fr. Giuseppe Chiara), sent to Japan in the 17th century to aid the local Church and investigate reports that his mentor, Fr. Cristóvão Ferreira, has become an apostate. What he finds is open persecution and the Kakure Kirishitan (Hidden Christians), a modern term for the members of the Japanese Catholic Church who went underground after the Shimabara Rebellion in the 1630s. Written partly in the form of a letter by the protagonist, the themes of the silence of God and of the trials of faith was informed by the author’s experience of religious discrimination in Japan, racism in France, and debilitating tuberculosis. The novel won the prestigious Tanizaki Prize. It is considered Endō's finest work.
Endō is one of the most celebrated writers of the Third Generation, so called because it was the third major group of writers to emerge after World War II. He wrote from the uncommon perspective of being both Japanese and a Catholic convert. Leith Morton, a scholar who as studied the image of Christ in Endō’s fiction, argues that his writings were dominated by a single theme: the belief in Christianity.

Quem Vigia o Vento Não Semeia (7): O Amor Torna Deus Visível

2011-12-10T00:28:00.001Z

10.12.2011

A imitação de Deus é difícil: nós nunca amamos como Ele ama. Nunca ninguém viu Deus. [...] Conhecemos o amor de Deus se acreditamos no dom de Cristo ao mundo e se reconhecemos no pobre, no que sofre, no louco, no mal-amado a presença d’Ele. [...] O amor visibiliza Deus: só sabemos que amamos Deus se amamos os nossos irmãos.
       [...] Uma comunidade não é um club, uma tribo mas um corpo que caminha. [...] Há graus de chegada ao mistério muito diversos: nós não estamos todos no mesmo patamar em nada, nem mesmo na fé. Ser fiel à comunidade é ser fiel à diversidade que a constitui, ao que nos é comum, aos serviços que exigem a nossa presença. A comunidade como fusão de corações e aleluias é um mito. A comunidade não é a fusão na unidade mas a comunhão na diversidade que é um dos frutos do Espírito. E a preocupação maior é não perder ninguém pelo caminho qualquer que seja o seu grau de fé ou de esperança.
       [...] A fé começa quando, pela mão de Jesus, começamos a encontrar com confiança o nosso próprio ser e os mecanismos de defesa contra uma ou outra das quatro grandes angústias existenciais: a solidão, a imperfeição, o absurdo e a finitude. Porque em Deus encontramos a unidade original e a confiança radical: a vida. Aquilo que levou Jesus à morte foi que ele deixou de ter medo da morte como poder último. É o que mostra a ceia: entrega o seu corpo nas mãos dos seus discípulos (e perseguidores); enquanto eles fogem, Jesus rectifica a sua confiança em Deus diante da angústia que a morte representa.
       — JOSÉ AUGUSTO MOURÃO, OP, “ A Imitação de Deus”

Quem Vigia o Vento Não Semeia (6): Para Lá do Que Se Imagina

2011-12-09T00:18:00.002Z

09.12.2011

[...] Ora, a vida, em cristianismo, é um movimento caracterizado pelo dom de si ou a “doação” sem porquê. O dom não é uma forma dissimulada de transacção comercial, mas o trabalho do desejo. O dom consiste em se deixar atrair para lá do que se imagina. É a nossa abertura à presença do outro.
       [...] A fé, como o amor, não consiste nem em acreditar cegamente e sem razão nem em recitar o catecismo duma nova lei mas na decisão de acolher ou não aquilo que se oferece, a existência autêntica ou a recusa desta existência.
       [...]
       Ver não é rever mas adivinhar contornos, formas de habitar. É preciso manter atenção ao tempo, não quebrar a linha inseparável entre o céu e a terra.
       — JOSÉ AUGUSTO MOURÃO, OP, “ O Rosto e a Sua Sombra”

Quem Vigia o Vento Não Semeia (5): O Princípio do Acontecimento

2011-12-08T01:13:00.001Z

08.12.2011

Diz o poeta persa Farîd Uddîn Attâr: “Há uma diferença entre conhecer o caminho e caminhar”. O que é dizer que o conhecimento puramente teórico não basta, que a consciência deve comprometer-se num determinado número de experiências que constituem a sua educação ou a sua formação. São estas noções de experiência e de caminhada que são aqui essenciais. Não temos acesso à verdade, à felicidade ou à satisfação senão atravessando uma série de provas que são como momentos ou mediações através dos quais ela se confronta com a náusea e a exterioridade do mundo. Se toda a época e toda a cultura comportam um princípio de clausura, este princípio é sempre contrariado por um outro, o princípio do acontecimento.
Juntemo-nos ao salmista na lamentação em que se tornou a vinha. Ilumine-nos o Deus das vítimas, não o dos vencedores, da abertura, não da clausura. E que a sua paz guarde os nossos corações. Que haverá de mais precioso, de mais doce e mais gratuito?
— JOSÉ AUGUSTO MOURÃO, OP, “O Filho e a Pedra”

Quem Vigia o Vento Não Semeia (4): O Julgamento Anula a Comunhão

2011-12-07T08:26:00.003Z

07.12.2011

[...] O julgamento que fazemos sobre os seres, as coisas e as situações é induzido muitas vezes por uma vontade própria. A vontade própria deixa-se orientar pela escolha, inconsciente muitas vezes, daquilo que é conforme àquilo que eu penso. Basta-lhe ter razão. Esse sentimento de ter razão deixa-se tomar pela verdade. Aí a armadilha.
       A suspensão do julgamento — esse modo de não escolher imediatamente sob a pressão da inveja, da repulsa ou da lógica — abre no pensamento o abismo de uma diferença entre dois interlocutores ou dois pontos de vista. A unidade não se encontra nunca em função da comparação e da oposição que arrasta consigo a procura de dominação.
       [...]
       É a violência que colocais na balança, diz o Salmo 58. O julgamento desliza rapidamente do lugar em que devia manter-se. Como se o prazer absoluto fosse ter razão contra a verdade. A alegria e o sofrimento não se definem opondo-se: são modalidade de um único desejo que no sofrimento se manifesta negativamente e na alegria positivamente. Deus revela-se na proximidade da origem, a comunhão, que permite reconhecer-me nos outros e aos outros se reconhecerem nele.
       O desejo é a dimensão essencial da fé. A idolatria consiste em apropriar-se de uma ou de representações tidas por Deus em vez de confessar a presença de Deus na Assembleia dos homens — e isso é a fé.
       — JOSÉ AUGUSTO MOURÃO, OP, “Abraão - Exeunt as Representações”

Quem Vigia o Vento Não Semeia (3): Dor e Amor

2011-12-06T09:37:00.002Z

06.12.2011

O cristianismo não produziu um saber propriamente falado sobre as origens e as transformações destes estados [nascimento, separação, frustração, falhas diversas — variantes do sofrimento] mas evidenciou-o em descrições de uma fineza inigualável, nos místicos sobretudo. O cristianismo diz-nos que o sofrimento humano é partilhável. Esta é a primeira revolução do cristianismo. Cristo, ao assumir o sofrimento, confere-lhe uma dignidade nunca vista; o sofrimento é igualmente partilhável entre os humanos que têm de o olhar em face, nomeá-lo e interpretá-lo. [...]
Jesus vem perturbar a ordem do medo e da expulsão instalada, o dispositivo religioso. Jesus precipita o tempo e desmascara os dispositivos que tudo justificam. Está próximo o Reino; é preciso que tudo se decida. A partir de Jesus, o mundo é um mundo em devir, orientado para o Bem, abençoado. Jesus diz que o sofrimento é inerente à reconciliação do humano e do divino. Não é imposto do exterior. O homem cristão é um homem de dor e de amor.
— JOSÉ AUGUSTO MOURÃO, OP, “O Milagre de Existir”

Quem Vigia o Vento Não Semeia (2): A Surpresa de Deus

2011-12-05T15:37:00.001Z

05.12.2011

Só a crença na presença de Deus na nossa vida altera o que sabemos de nós e do mundo. Deus, ao encarar, tornou-se um de nós. Não imitamos Deus fugindo do mundo e de nós, com paliativos e denegações. Deus fez o contrário (Hino [Cristológico] aos Filipenses[, Fl 2,6-11]). Jesus escolheu a morte, isto é, deu-lhe um sentido: nenhum bode salva. A morte de Jesus situa-se na continuidade dos crimes de Abel e dos profetas. O que há de singular na morte de Cristo não é o modo como morre mas que, em vez de se terminar por uma sacralização de bode expiatório, acabe por uma dessacralização de qualquer sistema. Só a Cruz nos surpreende, nos arranca à mundanização de Deus: Deus vem de Deus.
— JOSÉ AUGUSTO MOURÃO, OP, “Festa dos Ramos”

Quem Vigia o Vento Não Semeia (1): O Espectador e o Crente

2011-12-04T00:45:00.002Z

04.12.2011

Nós somos espectadores do mundo e produtores das aparições deste mundo e de todo um outro mundo. A condição do espectador é a de um sujeito que está continuamente a mudar de lugar. O olhar do espectador (e do crente) é movimento se ele quer escapar à paralisia da morte. Assim o diz a experiência das mulheres naquela manhã, assim o diz a nossa experiência de crentes, obrigados que estamos a uma verdadeira hermenêutica da reminiscência que só post factum Resurrectionis se cumpre, obrigados que estamos ao testemunho: afinal, os únicos testemunhos de Deus somos nós. Nós somos os iniciados duma passagem com um fim à vista.
— JOSÉ AUGUSTO MOURÃO, OP, “Este é o Jardim que a Ausência Permite”

Communio

2011-12-03T22:24:00.003Z

03.12.2011

At the centre of Christianity is community; we are gathered by the Lord around the altar.
— TIMOTHY RADCLIFFE, OP

Papa Apela ao Fim da Pena de Morte

2011-12-01T09:20:00.004Z

01.12.2011

O Papa Bento XVI lançou ontem um apelo ao mundo para a eliminação da pena de morte:

Espero que as vossas deliberações encorajem as iniciativas legislativas e políticas que estão a ser promovidas num número crescente de países para eliminar a pena de morte e continuar o progresso substancial feito para tornar a lei penal conforme à dignidade humana dos prisioneiros e à manutenção efetiva da ordem pública.

O Papa falava numa audiência pública no Vaticano, a propósito da iniciativa contra a pena capital intitulada No Justice without Life (Não Há Justiça Sem Vida), que reuniu delegações de vários países a convite da comunidade católica de Sto. Egídio.

Sobre o Amor

2011-12-01T08:25:00.006Z

01.12.2011

Deus é amor, e quem permanece no amor permanece em Deus, e Deus nele.
— 1Jo 4,16

Onde existe o Amor existe a Trindade: um que ama, um que é amado e uma fonte de amor.
— STO. AGOSTINHO

Temos de conhecer as pessoas e as coisas humanas para as amar. Temos de amar a Deus e as coisas divinas para as conhecer.
— BLAISE PASCAL

A medida do amor é amar sem medida.
— S. FRANCISCO DE SALES

O amor é a alegria pelo bem; o bem é o único fundamento do amor. Amar significa querer fazer bem a alguém.
— S. TOMÁS DE AQUINO, OP

A fonte da alegria cristã é esta consciência de ser amado por Deus, de ser pessoalmente amado pelo nosso Criador, [...] com amor apaixonado e fiel, um amor que é maior que a nossa infidelidade e os nossos pecados, um amor que perdoa.
— PAPA BENTO XVI

Ethics as Fulfilment

2011-11-29T00:02:00.010Z

29.11.2011

Naturally, however, behind the mystery of the wine is the reality that he has made himself fruit and wine for us, that his Blood is the fruit of the love born from the earth for ever and, in the Eucharist, this Blood becomes our blood, we are renewed, we receive a new identity because Christ’s Blood becomes our blood. Thus we are related to God in the Son and, in the Eucharist, this great reality of life in which we are branches joined to the Son and thereby in union with eternal love becomes our reality.
       “Abide”: abide in this great mystery, abide in this new gift of the Lord that has made us a people in itself, in his Body and with his Blood. It seems to me that we must meditate deeply on this mystery, that is, that God makes himself Body, one with us; Blood, one with us; that we may abide in this mystery in communion with God himself, in this great history of love that is the history of true happiness. In meditating on this gift God made himself one of us and at the same time he made us all one, a single vine. We must also begin to pray so that this mystery may penetrate our minds and hearts ever more deeply and that we may be ever more capable of living the greatness of the mystery and thus begin to put this imperative “abide” into practice.
       If we continue to read this Gospel passage attentively, we also find a second imperative: “abide”, and “observe my commandments”. “Observe” only comes second. “Abide” comes first, at the ontological level, namely that we are united with him, he has given himself to us beforehand and has already given us his love, the fruit. It is not we who must produce the abundant fruit; Christianity is not moralism. It is not we who must do all that God expects of the world but we must first of all enter this ontological mystery: God gives himself. His being, his loving, precedes our action and, in the context of his Body, in the context of being in him, being identified with him and ennobled with his Blood, we too can act with Christ.
       Ethics are a consequence of being: first the Lord gives us new life, this is the great gift. Being precedes action and from this being action then follows, as an organic reality, for we can also be what we are in our activity. Let us thus thank the Lord for he has removed us from pure moralism; we cannot obey a prescribed law but must only act in accordance with our new identity. Therefore it is no longer obedience, an external thing, but rather the fulfilment of the gift of new life.
       — POPE BENEDICT XVI, “Lectio Divina” (12 Feb. 2010)

Jesus Christ, Love Incarnate

2011-11-28T09:07:00.005Z

28.11.2011

What moved you, infinite God, to enlighten me, your finite creature, with the light of your truth? You yourself, the very fire of love, you yourself are the reason. [...] What was the reason for this? Love. For you loved us before we existed. O good, O eternal greatness, you made yourself lowly and small to make us great!
— ST. CATHERINE OF SIENA, OP, The Dialogue

Thank You

2011-11-23T23:16:00.002Z

23.11.2011

If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is thank you, it will be enough.
— MEISTER ECKHART, OP

Vem Espírito Santo

2011-11-13T19:17:00.007Z

13.11.2011

Vem réstea de sol
esclarece os desvairos da noite
e o fogo que corre sem freio.

Vem defensor do pobre
vem sinal rumoroso da voz
que move o mundo.

Vem memória d’água
barqueiro do nosso olhar
entre a luz e o seu véu.

Vem testemunha da dor
e da angústia sem nome
vem força da vida.

Vem clamor da noite cega
luz cinzenta que borda o mar
vem jardim dos olhos.
— JOSÉ AUGUSTO MOURÃO, OP, “Veni Sancte Spiritus”

A New Humanity

2011-11-11T22:07:00.003Z

11.11.2011

Christ is present to us in so far as we are present to each other. We are born with a constitutional inability to live together in love; we achieve a precarious unity only with great difficulty and for a short time; there is a flaw in the very flesh we have inherited which makes for division between us. The very thing that should make us one, the fact that we come into existence as members of one family, is the source of our isolation.
— HERBERT MCCABE, OP, The New Creation

Saciada, a Alma Permanece Faminta

2011-11-08T08:33:00.007Z

08.11.2011

Ó Divindade eterna, ó eterna Trindade, que, pela união com a natureza divina, tanto fizestes valer o Sangue de vosso Filho Unigénito! Vós, Trindade eterna, sois como um mar profundo, no qual quanto mais procuro mais encontro, e quanto mais encontro, mais cresce a sede de Vos procurar. Saciais a alma, mas dum modo insaciável, porque, saciando-se no vosso abismo, a alma permanece sempre faminta e sedenta de Vós, ó Trindade eterna, desejando ver-Vos com a luz da vossa luz.
       Saboreei e vi com a luz da inteligência, ilustrada na vossa luz, o vosso abismo insondável, ó Trindade eterna, e a beleza da vossa criatura. Por isso, vendo-me em Vós, vi que sou imagem vossa por aquela inteligência que me é dada como participação do vosso poder, ó Pai eterno, e também da vossa sabedoria, que é apropriada ao vosso Filho Unigénito. E o Espírito Santo, que procede de Vós e do vosso Filho, me deu a vontade com que posso amar-Vos.
       Porque Vós, Trindade eterna, sois criador e eu criatura; e conheci — porque Vós mo fizestes compreender quando me criastes de novo no Sangue do vosso Filho — conheci que estais enamorado da beleza da vossa criatura.
       Oh abismo, oh Trindade eterna, oh Divindade, oh mar profundo! Que mais me podíeis dar do que dar-Vos a Vós mesmo? Sois um fogo que arde sempre e não se consome. Sois Vós que consumis com o vosso calor todo o amor profundo da alma. Sois um fogo que dissipa toda a frialdade e iluminais as mentes com a vossa luz, aquela luz com que me fizestes conhecer a vossa verdade.
       Espelhando-me nesta luz, conheço-Vos como sumo bem, o bem que está acima de todo o bem, o bem feliz, o bem incompreensível, o bem inestimável, a beleza sobre toda a beleza, a sabedoria sobre toda a sabedoria: porque Vós sois a própria sabedoria, o alimento dos Anjos, que com o fogo da caridade Vos destes aos homens.
       Sois a veste que cobre toda a minha nudez; e alimentais a nossa fome com a vossa doçura, porque sois doce sem qualquer amargor. Oh Trindade eterna!
       — STA. CATARINA DE SENA, OP, O Diálogo

Sabedoria

2011-11-06T19:22:00.008Z

06.11.2011

Hoje, numa Missa dominicana em Fátima fui convidado a fazer a primeira leitura. As palavras irradiantes vinham do livro da Sabedoria (6,12-16):

Radiante e inalterável é a sabedoria;
facilmente se deixa ver por aqueles que a amam,
e encontrar por aqueles que a buscam.
Antecipa-se a manifestar-se aos que a desejam.
Quem por ela madruga não se cansará:
há-de encontrá-la sentada à sua porta.
Meditar nela é prudência consumada,
e aquele que não dorme por causa dela
depressa estará livre de inquietação.
Pois ela própria vai à procura dos que são dignos dela,
pelos caminhos lhes aparece com benevolência
e vai ao encontro deles, em cada um dos seus pensamentos.

Rosamundi

2011-10-19T08:29:00.008+01:00

19.10.2011

Rosamundi’s Ramblings é um dos blogues que leio regularmente. É escrito por uma leiga dominicana de Londres. Em dois textos, ela fala sobre a sua vida como dominicana com a mesma despretensão com que escreve sobre tudo. No primeiro, explica porque é que se tornou leiga dominicana:

It is said of our founder, St. Dominic, that he spent all his time talking to people about God, and talking to God about people.
We are all Dominicans, with the same charism (mission), but different ways of following that. We all strive to live by the four pillars of Dominican life, prayer, community, study and preaching; but according to our state in life — a Dominican friar will express the charism differently to a cloistered nun, who will express it differently to an apostolic sister, who will again be different to a lay Dominican.

O segundo texto desenvolve o primeiro, esclarecendo porque é que, não gostando ela de discursar, se juntou à Ordem dos Pregadores:

Study, reading and writing have always been important to me. I’m not so keen on the “public speaking” bit of preaching, but there are more ways of preaching than talking to people – writing, teaching catechism classes, answering colleagues’ strange questions on obscure points of doctrine before I’ve had my morning coffee. I think my finest hour was explaining Purgatory in fewer than 140 characters on Twitter. And nerves about public speaking will lessen with time and practice — I was less nervous leading the study than I was the first time I did, for example.

Laudare, Benedicere, Praedicare

2011-10-18T16:13:00.010+01:00

18.10.2011

A lema principal da Ordem dos Pregadores é “Laudare, Benedicere, Praedicare” (“Louvar, Bendizer, Pregar”). Outro lema associado à ordem é “Contemplari et Contemplata Aliis Tradere” (“Contemplar e Trasmitir os Frutos da Contemplação”). A palavra que melhor resume o compromisso da ordem é “Veritas” (“Verdade”). Se quisermos ser sucintos, a vida da família dominicana envolve a oração, a gratidão, o estudo, e a partilha (ou a prática do amor) colocando a verdade no seu centro.

OP

2011-10-17T00:41:00.006+01:00

17.10.2011

A Ordem dos Pregadores é constituída por frades, monjas, irmãs, e laicado (homens e mulheres). Qualquer membro da ordem pode usar OP (Ordo Praedicatorum) à frente do seu nome. Noutras ordens, os grupos dentro da ordem ostentam diferentes designações — por exemplo, um leigo da Ordem Franciscana Secular usa OFS (Ordo Franciscanus Saecularis) e um religioso da Ordem dos Frades Menores usa OFM (Ordo Fratrum Minorum), mas são ambos franciscanos. A família dominicana tem a particularidade de traduzir a sua unidade e igualdade internas numa só sigla.

O Reino

2011-10-16T01:50:00.002+01:00

16.10.2011

Um falecimento recente fez-me pensar numa frase do escritor francês Georges Bernanos, autor de Le journal d’un curé de campagne (Diário de um Pároco de Aldeia) que Robert Bresson transformou em filme. Escreve ele: “Não existem dois reinos separados, um para os vivos e um para os mortos. Há apenas o reino de Deus e, vivos ou mortos, estamos todos nele.”

The Disquiet of Faith

2011-10-14T11:52:00.031+01:00

14.10.2011

For F. (and her mother)

The reason, again, why the soul not only travels securely, when it travels thus in the darkness, but also achieves even greater gain and progress, is that usually, when the soul is receiving fresh advantage and profit, this comes by a way that it least understands — indeed, it quite commonly believes that it is losing ground. For, as it has never experienced that new feeling which drives it forth and dazzles it and makes it depart recklessly from its former way of life, it thinks itself to be losing ground rather than gaining and progressing, since it sees that it is losing with respect to that which it knew and enjoyed, and is going by a way which it knows not and wherein it finds no enjoyment. It is like the traveller, who, in order to go to new and unknown lands, takes new roads, unknown and untried, and journeys unguided by his past experience, but doubtingly and according to what others say. It is clear that such a man could not reach new countries, or add to his past experience, if he went not along new and unknown roads and abandoned those which were known to him. Exactly so, one who is learning fresh details concerning any office or art always proceeds in darkness, and receives no guidance from his original knowledge, for if he left not that behind he would get no farther nor make any progress; and in the same way, when the soul is making most progress, it is travelling in darkness, knowing naught. Wherefore, since God, as we have said, is the Master and Guide of this blind soul, it may well and truly rejoice, once it has learned to understand this, and say: “In darkness and secure.”[1]

These are the words of one of the greatest mystics in Christian history, St. John of the Cross.[2] In his treatise Dark Night of the Soul, he describes the dark battles of the soul. His is an extreme example. It shows us that the deepest commitment to Christ and the total offering of one’s life to God is ultimately a safe path, but not a quiet one. His words describe the disquiet of faith with joyful intensity.
Tomáš Halík, the autor of the spiritually vibrant Patience with God,[3] has been reflecting on perseverance as a response to the silence and hiddenness of God, establishing and exploring a common ground between believers and unbelievers. With St. John on his mind, he suggests that the seeming absence of God may be seen as an opportunity for us to better understand our presence in the world and the demands that this presence entails:

The mystics have written much about the importance of the dark nights of the faith, of the experience of the inner desert, of the silence of God, and this experience is always the chance to go deeper and to be more matured in our faith, perhaps to lose the religious illusions and to be confronted with the naked faith. And I think there are not only those individual dark nights of the soul, but also the collective ones. The 20th century was full of dark nights of the hidden God. Where was God in Auschwitz and the Holocaust? I think the right question is: where was man in the Holocaust? The rabbi of Britain, Jonathan Sacks, said that the right answer is that God was in His commandment “You shall not kill”. And He gave us freedom, He gave us our commandments, so it is our responsibility. And I think when we are confronted with the hidden God, there are three possibilities how to answer this mystery, and they are faith, hope and love.[4]

The Gospel of Mark narrates the episode of a desperate father who seeks a cure for his son’s afflictions and comes to Jesus for help. The event is also recounted in the other synoptic gospels, Matthew (17:14-21) and Luke (9:37-43). In Mark, the father phrases the request as if he is talking about a mere possibility, leaving it open whether or not Jesus is able to help him. Jesus’s reply is not to assert his power, but to talk about about the power of faith — that is, about the child’s father. There is a shift. The father puts everything in Jesus’s hands and is hesitant. Jesus does not feel insulted by his hesitancy and makes him see the connection between faith and determination. Next, we read that “[t]hen the boy’s father cried out, ‘I do believe, help my unbelief!’” (9:24).
“I do believe, help my unbelief!’” This statement, which is also a request, reflects an acknowledgement instead of a change. Because of Jesus’s humility and selflessness, the father feels safe enough to fully acknowledge his condition. Believing is not forgoing unbelief. Being a believer is exactly to choose to live in hope and be open to the guiding love of God that Christ announced. So it is also to be aware of this choice — and therefore to be conscious of the alternatives. Faith involves knowledge and trust in an urgent impulse that takes the form of a leap, not in the dark, but through the dark. The believer walks across the abyss of unbelief every day, not shying away from it. Karl Rahner has taught us that believing means bearing the incomprehensibility of God throughout our life. The father turns to Jesus declaring that he believes and that he needs him to give him strength. More than the content of faith, the credo, it is the recognition of our weakness (and of our need of others) as well as the power of our faith (and of our agreement with God) that make up the cornerstone of our belief. Pope Benedict XVI reminded us of this fundamental point when he said in an homily on the Ascension that “[w]hat we believe is important, but even more important is the One in whom we believe.”[5] Almost 40 years before, Joseph Ratzinger had written these all-embracing remarks that bring together believers and unbelievers in their quest for a meaningful, fulfilling life:

Just as the believer knows himself to be constantly threatened by unbelief, which he must experience as a continual temptation, so for the unbeliever faith remains a temptation and a threat to his apparently permanently closed world. In short, there is no escape from the dilemma of being a man. Anyone who makes up his mind to evade the uncertainty of belief will have to experience the uncertainty of unbelief, which can never finally eliminate for certain the possibility that belief may after all be the truth. It is not until belief is rejected that its unrejectability becomes evident.
[...]
In other words, both the believer and the unbeliever share, each in his own way, doubt and belief, if they do not hide away from themselves and from the truth of their being. Neither can quite escape either doubt or belief; for the one, faith is present against doubt, for the other through doubt and in the form of doubt. It is the basic pattern of man’s destiny only to be allowed to find the finality of his existence in this unceasing rivalry between doubt and belief, temptation and certainty. Perhaps in precisely this way doubt, which saves both sides from being shut up in their own worlds, could become the avenue of communication. It prevents both from enjoying complete self-satisfaction; it opens up the believer to the doubter and the doubter to the believer; for one it is his share in the fate of the unbeliever, for the other the form in which belief remains nevertheless a challenge to him.[6]

Ratzinger, now Pope, and Halík believe that the Church is a place where the communication between believers and unbelievers can take place. The doors should be open. What unites the variety within the Church, what gives it its catholicity, its universality, is not belief as such. As in the beginning, it is a transformative encounter and relationship with Jesus, whom many unbelievers admire. The episode in Mark’s Gospel reveals that this personal bond between a believer and Jesus is disarming and humbling, cautioning us against the worship of idols. Theologians like Herbert McCabe have warned us about the temptation of turning God into an idol, something comprehensible and limited. Saying that Jesus Christ reveals the mystery of God as the Son on the one hand, does not mean that God is Jesus on the other. After all, Jesus’s revelation is of a tri-une God, a God of a mysterious, loving, internal, and unitary relationship. We may say that “God stands above singular and plural. He bursts both categories.”[7] God cannot be turned into an idol. The vain human attempts to do it only confirm that whatever the idol, idolatry is always, in the end, the worshipping of ourselves:

Orthodoxy is idolatry if it means holding the “correct opinions about God” — “fundamentalism” is the most extreme and salient example of such idolatry — but not if it means holding faith in the right way, that is, not holding it at all but being held by God, in love and service. Theology is idolatry if it means what we say about God instead of letting ourselves be addressed by what God has to say to us. Faith is idolatrous if it is rigidly self-certain but not if it is softened in the waters of “doubt”.[8]

______________________
          [1] John of the Cross, Dark Night of the Soul, ed. and trans. E. Allison Peers, ch. XVI, par. 8, http://www.ccel.org/ccel/john_cross/dark_night.toc.html.
          [2] He reformed the Carmelite Order and founded the Discalced Carmelites together with his friend St. Teresa of Avila, another great mystic.
          [3] Tomáš Halík, Patience with God: The Story of Zacchaeus Continuing in Us (New York: Doubleday Books, 2009).
          [4] Frank Brennan, “Conversation with Tomáš Halík”, 1 Jun. 2011, http://mpegmedia.abc.net.au/rn/podcast/2011/07/eer_20110703.mp3.
          [5] Pope Benedict XVI, “Homily on the Ascension”, 28 May 2006, par. 7.
          [6] Joseph Ratzinger, Introduction to Christianity [1968], trans. J. R. Foster (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2004), pp. 45-47.
          [7] Ibid., p. 179.
          [8] John D. Caputo, What Would Jesus Deconstruct?: The Good News of Postmodernism for the Church (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2007), p. 131.

On the Execution of the Guilty

2011-10-13T12:05:00.021+01:00

13.10.2011

I received an email today from Dudley Sharp, a pro-death penalty activist. It is a response to the Catholic call to abolish the death penalty that I have signed. Sharp reviews what he thinks are the many errors of the petition. I suppose every signatory received this message. From what I could gather on the Internet and from the way he argues, I do not think that Dudley is Catholic. But I may be wrong.
He insists that Troy Davis was guilty. This a point that advocates of the death penalty often make: that such a sentence must be given only beyond the shadow of a doubt, that is, it must be applied to persons who the court is sure that are guilty. This is a misguided point. Executing the guilty is still immoral. The guilt of the person does not make the execution morally right. This is a distorted view that confuses justice with punishment and retribution.
The Church does not hold that the guilt of the defendants justifies their execution. Instead, the correct establishment of the culpability of the defendant is simply a condition for us to consider if the death penalty is necessary. What can make it necessary? That it is the “only practicable way to defend the lives of human beings effectively against the aggressor”.[1] The Catechism continues:

If, instead, bloodless means are sufficient to defend against the aggressor and to protect the safety of persons, public authority should limit itself to such means, because they better correspond to the concrete conditions of the common good and are more in conformity to the dignity of the human person.[2]

In other words, the only argument for the death penalty considered by the Church does not have to do with the punishment of the guilty, but with prudence and protection. Such a penalty may only be based on a prudential judgment with the intention of keeping someone out of harm’s way. This position urges us to take the historical context into account, given that intentional killing is always morally wrong, even when it is done by the state. And as Pope John Paul II suggests in the encyclical letter Evangelium Vitae, it is obvious that since the 19th century the modern prison system provides a non-lethal means that is “sufficient to defend against the aggressor and to protect the safety of persons”.

______________________
[1] Catechism of the Catholic Church, par. 2267.
[2] Ibid.

Catholic Filmmakers

2011-10-04T14:36:00.005+01:00

04.10.2011

Here is a list of great Catholic filmmakers who deserve our admiration for their contribution to the art of cinema:

Alfred Hitchcock (UK)
Éric Rohmer (France)
Federico Fellini (Italy)
Frank Borzage (USA)
Frank Capra (USA)
Fritz Lang (Germany)
Georges Méliès (France)
Jean Cocteau (France)
Jean Renoir (France)
John Ford (USA)
Krzysztof Kieślowski (Poland)
Leo McCarey (USA)
Manoel de Oliveira (Portugal)
Martin Scorsese (USA)
Michael Cimino (USA)
Paul Thomas Anderson (USA)
Robert Bresson (France)
Roberto Rossellini (Italy)
Vincente Minnelli (USA)
Vittorio de Sica (Italy)

A Catholic Call to Abolish the Death Penalty

2011-09-29T15:18:00.014+01:00

29.09.2011

Among many groups, Catholics have been particularly energetic in campaigning for the abolition of the death penalty in the USA, with results in New Jersey (2007), New Mexico (2009), and Illinois (2011). I am very glad to be one of the signatories of a statement “A Catholic Call to Abolish the Death Penalty” written by Tobias L. Winright from Saint Louis University, a Jesuit institution. God bless him for doing this when Troy Davis was just recently executed by the State of Georgia. The petition is signed by renowned Catholic theologians and other Catholic scholars and it may be found in this page. Here is an excerpt:

There are, moreover, theological reasons for this stance, and here we speak especially to our sisters and brothers in faith. In calling for the abolition of the “cruel and unnecessary” death penalty, Blessed Pope John Paul II argued that “[t]he new evangelization calls for followers of Christ who are unconditionally pro-life: who will proclaim, celebrate, and serve the Gospel of life in every situation. A sign of hope is the increasing recognition that the dignity of human life must never be taken away, even in the case of someone who has done great evil.” Our theological tradition recalls that our Lord Jesus Christ was unjustly and brutally nailed to a cross to die. The great 20th century theologian Karl Barth put the matter this way: “Now that Jesus Christ has been nailed to the cross for the sins of the world, how can we still use the thought of expiation to establish the death penalty?” The Eucharistic celebration calls Catholics to remember all crucified people, including the legacy of lynching, in light of the life, ministry, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. His Gospel message of forgiveness and love of enemies presents a difficult challenge, especially to those who have lost loved ones at the hands of a murderer. Yet, the Gospel teaches us how to become fully human: love, not hatred and revenge, liberates us. We need to forgive and love both in fidelity to the Gospel and for our own well-being. The experience of groups like Murder Victims’ Families for Human Rights, who advocate against the death penalty, attests to this.

What Is God’s Position Towards Me?Where Do I Stand Before God?

2011-09-27T09:45:00.010+01:00

27.09.2011

In his recent visit to Germany, Pope Benedict XVI addressed the Council of the Evangelical Church in the former Augustinian convent in Erfurt where Martin Luther studied theology and was ordained a priest. The complete text is available here. It is a truly ecumenical speech, one that does not forgo the Catholic conviction of the one who speaks while deeply engaging with Luther’s theological reflections:

“How do I receive the grace of God?” The fact that this question was the driving force of his whole life never ceases to make a deep impression on me. For who is actually concerned about this today — even among Christians? What does the question of God mean in our lives? In our preaching? Most people today, even Christians, set out from the presupposition that God is not fundamentally interested in our sins and virtues. He knows that we are all mere flesh. And insofar as people believe in an afterlife and a divine judgement at all, nearly everyone presumes for all practical purposes that God is bound to be magnanimous and that ultimately he mercifully overlooks our small failings. The question no longer troubles us. But are they really so small, our failings? Is not the world laid waste through the corruption of the great, but also of the small, who think only of their own advantage? Is it not laid waste through the power of drugs, which thrives on the one hand on greed and avarice, and on the other hand on the craving for pleasure of those who become addicted? Is the world not threatened by the growing readiness to use violence, frequently masking itself with claims to religious motivation? Could hunger and poverty so devastate parts of the world if love for God and godly love of neighbour — of his creatures, of men and women — were more alive in us? I could go on. No, evil is no small matter. Were we truly to place God at the centre of our lives, it could not be so powerful. The question: what is God’s position towards me, where do I stand before God? — Luther’s burning question must once more, doubtless in a new form, become our question too, not an academic question, but a real one. In my view, this is the first summons we should attend to in our encounter with Martin Luther. (par. 3)

56.ª Peregrinação Nacional do Rosário e da Família Dominicanaao Santuário de Fátima: “Pregação e Cultura”

2011-09-21T13:57:00.006+01:00

21.09.2011

SÁBADO, 24 SET.
14:30 Chegada à Igreja da Santíssima Trindade
15:00 Apresentação das Dioceses
15:30 Celebração Dominicana: “Pregação e Cultura”
17:00 Procissão para a Capelinha das Aparições e saudação a Nossa Senhora
21:30 Celebração do Rosário na Capelinha das Aparições
22:45 Vigília de Oração (na Igreja da Santíssima Trindade)

DOMINGO, 25 SET.
08:00 Oração da manhã (na Igreja da Santíssima Trindade)
10:00 Celebração do Rosário na Capelinha das Aparições
11:00 Eucaristia e Procissão (no Recinto do Santuário)

Vaticano II: O Pós-Concílio

2011-09-15T23:06:00.005+01:00

15.09.2011

Vaticano II: O Pós-Concílio propõe um conjunto de três comunicações que reflectem sobre o marcante Concílio reunido entre 1962 e 1965:

“Os Dominicanos no Concílio”, Fr. Bento Domingues, OP (15 Set., em Lisboa; 21 Set., no Porto)

“A Dei Verbum”, Fr. Francolino Gonçalves, OP (16 Set., em Lisboa; 22 Set., no Porto)

“O Pós-Concílio: Memórias e Perspectivas”, Fr. Mateus Peres, OP e Fr. José Nunes, OP (17 Set., em Lisboa; 23 Set., no Porto)

Todos os eventos da iniciativa são às 17 horas. Serão acolhidos no Convento de S. Domingos em Lisboa e no Centro Paroquial de Cristo-Rei no Porto. Deixo o texto de apresentação:

Para tudo há um horizonte de expectativa e um horizonte de decepção. As dissensões a propósito do Vaticano II não começam apenas quando se entra na interpretação dos textos. Há a questão da sua aplicação. O concílio criou grandes expectativas, do mesmo modo que o pós-concílio trouxe grandes decepções.
       É afirmação corrente que a verdadeira recepção de Vaticano de facto ainda não começou. Um concílio é, de facto, um acontecimento extraordinário — um remédio indispensável com, por vezes, efeitos secundários indesejáveis — e não pode ser confundido com a vida da própria Igreja.
       São sempre os herdeiros que se pronunciam sobre o legado deixado pelos outros. Há uma crítica ao Vaticano II que pretende que a torrente da modernidade terá submergido a escritura, os Padres e a liturgia, reduzindo-o a um messianismo terrestre.
       “Para que avance, é decisivo encontrar uma garantia espiritual, não apenas para uma explicação anti-histórico-utópica do concílio, mas também para uma compreensão criativo-espiritual na unidade viva com a verdadeira Tradição” (Ratzinger 1973: 443).
       Em cena estão a hermenêutica da descontinuidade e da ruptura e a hermenêutica da reforma, identificados com os media e uma parte da teologia moderna; do outro lado, os bispos e o papa como os administradores legítimos do dom do Senhor.
       Como se fez a recepção do Vaticano II em Portugal? Que energias, iniciativas, expectativas abriu?

My Experience of Prayers

2011-09-15T22:32:00.002+01:00

14.09.2011

[...] for if you knew, G., my experience of prayers, you would know everything [...]
— JACQUES DERRIDA, Circonfession

Quem Foi (É) Jesus Cristo?

2011-09-08T16:04:00.008+01:00

08.09.2011

Vai decorrer nos próximos dias 8 e 9 de Outubro, o colóquio Quem Foi (É) Jesus Cristo?, organizado pelo professor de filosofia e teólogo Pe. Anselmo Borges, no Seminário da Boa Nova em Valadares:

Anselmo Borges (Universidade de Coimbra), “De Jesus a Jesus Cristo”

Xabier Pikaza (Universidade de Salamanca), “‘Uma Biografia (Impossível) de Jesus”

Antonio Piñero (Universidade Complutense de Madrid), “Jesus e a Gnose”

Juan Antonio Estrada (Universidade de Granada), “Jesus e Deus”

J. I. González-Faus, (Faculdade de Teologia da Catalunha), “Jesus e o Dinheiro”

Paulo Rangel (Universidade Católica Portuguesa), “Jesus e a Política”

José María Castillo (Universidade de Granada), “Jesus e a Igreja”

Juan José Tamayo (Universidade Carlos III, Madrid), “Jesus e as Religiões”

Isabel Allegro de Magalhães (Universidade Nova de Lisboa), “Jesus e as Mulheres”

Andrés Torres Queiruga (Universidade de Santiago de Compostela), “Que Quer Dizer: ‘Ressuscitar dos Mortos’?”

Oração e Trabalho

2011-08-30T11:45:00.008+01:00

30.08.2011

Oro a Deus como se esperasse tudo d’Ele, mas trabalho como se Ele esperasse tudo de mim.
— S. TOMÁS DE AQUINO, OP

God as Parent

2011-08-29T22:00:00.006+01:00

29.08.2011

Parents, biological or not, parent. They bring children forth: help, teach, and accompany them as they grow, change, and move onward in time.
       God is our common parent. A good parent advises and knows best. The more we understand the reasons behind these advises, the more we recognise the parent’s authority and knowledge and the more faith, or trust, we have in the parent. God appeals to our intellect, which is a divine gift, and asks for our faith. In one of the dogmatic decrees of the First Vatican Council (1869-70), we read that “there can never be any real disagreement between faith and reason, since it is the same God who reveals the mysteries and infuses faith, and who has endowed the human mind with the light of reason”.[1] At the same time, a good parent is a friend. Friendship with God — and all that comes with it, confidence, reliance, love — is the aspiration of Christianity. So that God’s will and our conscience become aligned, in freedom and truth.
       We outgrow our parents. We become adults and, as St. Paul explains, no longer “talk like a child, and see things as a child does, and think like a child” (1Cor 13:11). This is not to belittle childhood — on the contrary. When he uses the word then, St. Paul makes clear that he is talking about a future that adulthood, his age, does not fulfil: “Now we see only reflections in a mirror, mere riddles, but then we shall be seeing face to face. Now I can know only imperfectly; but then I shall know just as fully as I am myself known.” (1Cor 13:12, my emphasis). That is to say, we never become spiritually grown-up. We constantly forget where we came from. We frequently deny the love that binds us to God (and to each other). We need to be remembered of our origin in order to accept this love — St. Augustine says to God that “Thou hast made us for Thyself and restless is our heart until it comes to rest in Thee”.[2]
       In some ways, it is easier to lie to adults than to children, because the former often think that they have nothing else to learn while the latter remain inquisitive, marvelled at the world, savouring the wonder of existence. That is why Jesus says that it is to children “that the kingdom of Heaven belongs” (Matt 19:14). And before God, we are eternally children.

______________________
[1] First Vatican Council, Dogmatic Constitution on the Catholic Faith, ch. 4, par. 5.
[2] Augustine, Confessions, trans. and ed. by Albert C. Outler, book one, ch. I.

Proclamar a Comunidade

2011-08-28T03:24:00.006+01:00

28.08.2011

A primeira vez que li as Escrituras numa Missa foi no dia 4 de Setembro de 2010. Lembro-me como se fosse hoje. Estava na Sé Nova de Coimbra a rezar uma coroa franciscana ou rosário seráfico, a meditar sobre os seus mistérios em silêncio, quando o sr. Rafael se aproximou de mim e me convidou para ler a primeira leitura do Antigo Testamento (do livro da Sabedoria) e o salmo.
Este convite vindo de alguém que não me conhecia, que me acolheu como irmão, foi comovente. Foi a demonstração cabal da dimensão comunitária da fé cristã, que se alarga com as viagens que fazemos, com as igrejas que visitamos, com os encontros que vão tecendo a nossa existência e fazendo a nossa história — a Igreja é sempre maior do que pensamos.
Entretanto, já li diversas vezes. Participar na Liturgia da Palavra como leitor é uma grande responsabilidade. Cabe-nos a nós proclamar a Palavra de Deus e nesse gesto proclamar a comunidade que é a Igreja, um corpo que lê, escuta, reflecte, responde, é atravessado e transformado pela vida das palavras, isto é, encontra nelas a fonte de uma nova vida.

St. Catherine of Siena, Doctor for the Church

2011-08-26T08:36:00.018+01:00

26.08.2011

Love transforms into the thing loved.
— ST. CATHERINE OF SIENA, OP, The Dialogue

In a general audience in 2010, Benedict XVI said of St. Catherine of Siena:

Many put themselves at Catherine’s service and above all considered it a privilege to receive spiritual guidance from her. They called her “mother” because, as her spiritual children, they drew spiritual nourishment from her. Today too the Church receives great benefit from the exercise of spiritual motherhood by so many women, lay and consecrated, who nourish souls with thoughts of God, who strengthen the people’s faith and direct Christian life towards ever loftier peaks.[1]

The Pope calls The Dialogue [of Divine Providence] “a masterpiece of spiritual literature”.[2] Many magisterial documents of the Holy See mention her, such as Mulieris Dignitatem, an apostolic letter by John Paul II on the dignity of women, or Sacramentum Caritatis, a post-synodal apostolic exhortation by Pope Benedict XVI on the sacrament of the Eucharist.
François-Marie Léthel, a member of the Pontifical Academy Theology writes “Catherine was, together with Teresa de Ávila, the first woman to be declared a Doctor of the Church in 1970, yet the ecclesial reception of her doctorate is still not fully complete, especially in the world of academic theology.”[3] Despite the publication of Thomas McDermont’s study, Catherine of Siena: Spiritual Development in Her Life and Teaching, where I first read Léthel’s passage, there is still a lot of work to do. Perhaps if more Christian theologians read her words, simply read them, they would be absorbed and transfigured by her words while they devote their time to the study of what she lovingly left for us — their love for God transformed into their love for Catherine and for her writings, given how her life and verbal expression mirror each other. She was declared a Doctor of the Church, that is, a theologian regarded as particularly authoritative. Yet, through her actions and works, she is also a Doctor for the Church, for a more united and devoted Church. A Church always yet to come, but that we are called to build in her company.

______________________
          [1] Benedict XVI, General Audience of 24 Nov. 2010, par. 11.
          [2] Ibid., par. 7.
          [3] François-Marie Léthel, OCD, “Preface to Emanuele Massimo Muso’s ‘Gesù dolce, Gesù amore: Il Cristo di Caterina da Siena’” (STD diss., Pontificium Institutum Spiritualitatis Teresianum, 2005), p. vi.
          [4] Thomas McDermont, OP, Catherine of Siena: Spiritual Development in Her Life and Teaching (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 2008).

Deus Convida à Solenidade

2011-08-25T11:10:00.004+01:00

25.08.2011

Apenas sei que caminho como quem
É olhado, amado e conhecido
E por isso em cada gesto ponho
Solenidade e risco
— SOPHIA DE MELLO BREYNER, “Escuto”

Deus convida à solenidade. A solenidade deve ser entendida, não como afectação, um modo de dizer ou de fazer forçado, mas como entrega e atenção. A raiz da palavra é sollus, “inteiro”. Ser solene é assim estar inteiramente nas nossas acções. É por isso que Sophia de Mello Breyner liga a solenidade ao risco. Caminhamos sentindo que somos olhados, conhecidos, amados — e somos desafiados a arriscar devolver esse cuidado, esse amor, sem reservas.

Entrevista com Fr. José Augusto Mourão

2011-08-23T10:14:00.007+01:00

23.08.2011

Em 2003, Maria João Seixas entrevistou Fr. José Augusto Mourão. A entrevista está disponível na íntegra aqui. Guardo muitas palavras de uma conversa que nos interpela sem deixar de ser profundamente pessoal — palavras como estas:

Cristo não veio eliminar a Terra e impor o Céu. Cristo, e esse é o mistério da Encarnação, veio fazer a ponte entre dois mundos, sem abolir nenhum dos pólos que os erguem. Na homilia é disso que se deve dar testemunho. É preciso tornar a Palavra presente à vida, interactiva, mesmo quando se convida os fiéis a reflectir em silêncio sobre ela.

Hoje e Todos os Dias

2011-08-20T09:57:00.009+01:00

20.08.2011

Faz hoje um ano que eu e a F. celebrámos o sacramento do Matrimónio, que é entendido na Igreja como um sacramento de vocação (o outro é o sacramento da Ordem). É uma união que, na prática dos votos que professámos um ao outro, nos aproxima de Deus. Na altura, uma das passagens que escolhemos para leitura foi este cântico do amor de S. Paulo, incluido na primeira carta aos Coríntios (13):

Ainda que eu fale as línguas dos homens e dos anjos,
se não tiver amor, sou como um bronze que soa
ou um címbalo que retine.
Ainda que eu tenha o dom da profecia
e conheça todos os mistérios e toda a ciência,
ainda que eu tenha tão grande fé que transporte montanhas,
se não tiver amor, nada sou.
Ainda que eu distribua todos os meus bens
e entregue o meu corpo para ser queimado,
se não tiver amor, de nada me aproveita.
O amor é paciente,
o amor é prestável,
não é invejoso,
não é arrogante nem orgulhoso,
nada faz de inconveniente,
não procura o seu próprio interesse,
não se irrita nem guarda ressentimento.
Não se alegra com a injustiça,
mas rejubila com a verdade.
Tudo desculpa, tudo crê,
tudo espera, tudo suporta.
O amor jamais passará.
As profecias terão o seu fim,
o dom das línguas terminará
e a ciência vai ser inútil.
Pois o nosso conhecimento é imperfeito
e também imperfeita é a nossa profecia.
Mas, quando vier o que é perfeito,
o que é imperfeito desaparecerá.
Quando eu era criança,
falava como criança,
pensava como criança,
raciocinava como criança.
Mas, quando me tornei homem,
deixei o que era próprio de criança.
Agora, vemos como num espelho,
de maneira confusa;
depois, veremos face a face.
Agora, conheço de modo imperfeito;
depois, conhecerei como sou conhecido.
Agora permanecem estas três coisas:
a fé, a esperança e o amor;
mas a maior de todas é o amor.

Deus Escondido

2011-08-10T01:06:00.007+01:00

10.08.2011

onde estás, Deus libertador,
que nos perguntam por ti e não te vemos?
Deus escondido, onde estás?
devemos procurar-te entre os destroços,
a cinza e as mãos cortadas como canas verdes,
ou à frente das batalhas,
entre os que caminham como o vento
e as folhas das plantas, sensíveis à luz,
entre os que vão de cabeça alta e regressam
da servidão do saco e do tijolo
os que acordados vêm,
os pés recentemente desatados,
a língua solta?
Deus escondido, onde moras?
devemos procurar-te entre os que fizeram o êxodo
e começaram a amar,
os que morrendo a si já ressuscitam
os que rompem as muralhas da pele e pedem água?
devemos procurar-te naqueles que sobem à montanha
para molhar as mãos de luz e transfigurar-se?
(na solidão dos montes apalparei a tua face?
na limpidez dos rios e nas palavras
com que que fizeste o mundo verei a tua mão correndo?)
onde devemos esperar-te, Deus da surpresa
e como nós trânsfuga?
Deus dos que não têm voz nem barcos
para na albufeira olhar a alma
a crescer como a sombra dos pinheiros
anoitece a alma e o rio,
Deus gratuito, onde estás?
devemos procurar-te na poesia e no canto,
no amor e na beleza,
na barraca e no lixo?
onde apareces, Deus amigo dos pobres,
onde te acharemos, Deus libertador?
— JOSÉ AUGUSTO MOURÃO, OP, “Deus Absconditus”

Prayerful Poetry

2011-08-06T12:15:00.014+01:00

06.08.2011

The silence of God is God.
— CAROLYN FORCHÉ, The Angel of History

I found Carolyn Forché’s poetry by chance. It was an exhilarating discovery — and I alluded to her book The Angel of History in a proposal for a conference paper on Roberto Rossellini’s cinema and Walter Benjamin’s philosophy of history. She is one of most distinguished American living poets also known for her humanitarian and social work. Forché has taught at Columbia University and other institutions and is the director of the Lannan Center for Poetics and Social Practice at Georgetown University. You can read some of her poems and essays here, in the entry on her that is part of my archive of Catholic authors and texts. This is one example of her poetic work, “Prayer”:

Begin again among the poorest, moments off, in another time time and place.
Belongings gathered in the last hour to be taken, visible invisible:
Tin spoon, teacup, tremble of tray, carpet hanging from sorrow’s balcony.
Say goodbye to everything. With a wave of your hand, gesture to all you have known.
Begin with bread torn from bread, beans given to the hungriest, a carcass of flies.
Take the polished stillness from a locked church, prayer notes left between stones.
Answer them and in your net hoist voices from the troubled hours.
Sleep only when the least among them sleeps, and then only until the birds.
Make the flat-bed truck your time and place. Make the least daily wage your value.
Language will rise then like language from the mouth of a still river. No one’s mouth.
Bring night to your imagingings. Bring the darkest passage of your holy book.

O Horizonte da Santidade

2011-08-05T11:11:00.009+01:00

05.08.2011

Mas a santidade é oferecida a cada pessoa de novo cada dia, e por isso aqueles que renunciam à santidade são obrigados a repetir a negação todos os dias.
— SOPHIA DE MELLO BREYNER ANDERSEN, Retrato de Mónica

Contudo, fizemos da santidade uma coisa tão extraordinária, abstrata e inalcançável, que quase não ousamos falar dela. Muito menos no espaço público. De certa forma, habituámo-nos a olhar para a experiência cristã como que acontecendo a duas velocidades: o caminho heróico dos santos e a frágil estrada que é aquela de todos os outros, e por maior razão a nossa. Ora esta conceção de santidade não pode estar mais longe daquilo que a tradição cristã propõe, pela qual pugnou e pugna. O Concílio Vaticano II, por exemplo, deixa bem claro: a santidade é vocação mais inclusiva e comum. Mas é preciso entender de que falamos quando falamos de santidade.
       Bastar-nos-ia certamente ler as bem-aventuranças. Jesus não diz que os bens aventurados são os outros, os que não estão ali. Jesus olha para a multidão e começa a dizer: “bem-aventurados vós os pobres”, “bem-aventurados vós os aflitos”, “bem-aventurados vós os misericordiosos”. O quê que isto quer dizer? Que são, no fundo, as nossas pobrezas, fragilidades, aflições, mansidões, procuras de justiça, sedes de verdade, a nossas buscas por um coração puro, que dão a substância da bem-aventurança, a matéria da santidade.
       É naquilo que somos e fazemos, no mapa vulgaríssimo de quanto buscamos, na humilde e mesmo monótona geografia que nos situa, na pequena história que dia-a-dia protagonizamos que podemos ligar a terra e o céu. Falar de santidade em chave cristã passou a ser isso: acreditar que a humanidade do homem se tornou morada do divino de Deus.
       — JOSÉ TOLENTINO MENDONÇA, “De Que Falamos Quando Falamos de Santidade”

O Claro Escuro do Teu Nome

2011-08-03T12:12:00.007+01:00

03.08.2011

Deus nas fronteiras deste mundo,
Deus que cruzamos como as sombras,
dá-nos um corpo de desejo
e um ouvido de começo,
fica connosco Deus que passas
e nossas mãos te larguem,
Deus confundido com a sede,
e as palavras que dizemos,
vem alterar o nossos corpo,
vem confundir a nossa fome,
Deus da palavra,
flor do vento,
manhã que vem em Jesus Cristo.

Dê-te prazer o nosso canto,
Deus das manhãs azuis e rosa,
que o nosso corpo te anuncie qual fonte,
rio ou chaga aberta,
que nossas mãos persigam o teu passar escondido.

Deus invisível para os olhos,
palavra solta, luz que passa,
é neste tempo que dizemos o claro escuro do teu nome,
onde é secreta a tua face e o teu passar adivinhado.
— JOSÉ AUGUSTO MOURÃO, OP, “Nas Fronteiras Deste Mundo”

Vida Doce

2011-07-29T10:24:00.009+01:00

29.07.2011

Tenha felicidade bastante para fazê-la doce.
Dificuldades para fazê-la forte.
Tristeza para fazê-la humana.
E esperança suficiente para fazê-la feliz.
As pessoas mais felizes não têm as melhores coisas.
Elas sabem fazer o melhor das oportunidades
que aparecem em seus caminhos.
A felicidade aparece para aqueles que choram.
Para aqueles que se machucam.
Para aqueles que buscam e tentam sempre.
E para aqueles que reconhecem a importância das pessoas
que passam por suas vidas.
— CLARICE LISPECTOR, “O Sonho”

Church Fathers on the Demands of the Crisis

2011-07-27T10:58:00.009+01:00

27.07.2011

The Fathers of the Church are a group of remarkable bishops who have shaped the early Church. Their teachings, meditations, and theological insights are the basis for the centuries of Christian thought that followed.
Their influence persists today, but it is often unacknowledged and overlooked. They are not read enough — except for St. Augustine, and even him is sometimes read in second hand. So I propose three quotes that remind us of the demands that this financial crisis places on those who have much and live in abundance. St. Basil of Caesarea, a Greek father, and St. Ambrose of Milan, a Latin father, said this in the 4th century. Nothing has changed.

What keeps you from giving now? Isn’t the poor person there? Aren’t your own warehouses full? Isn’t the reward promised? The command is clear: the hungry person is dying now, the naked person is freezing now, the person in debt is beaten now — and you want to wait until tomorrow? “I’m not doing any harm”, you say. “I just want to keep what I own, that’s all.” You own! You are like someone who sits down in a theater and keeps everyone else away, saying that what is there for everyone’s use is your own [...]. If everyone took only what they needed and gave the rest to those in need, there would be no such thing as rich and poor. After all, didn’t you come into life naked, and won’t you return naked to the earth?
       — ST. BASIL
The bread in your cupboard belongs to the hungry person; the coat hanging unused in your closet belongs to the person who needs it; the shoes rotting in your closet belong to the person with no shoes; the money which you put in the bank belongs to the poor. You do wrong to everyone you could help, but fail to help.
       — ST. BASIL
The large rooms of which you are so proud are in fact your shame. They are big enough to hold crowds — and also big enough to shut out the voices of the poor [...]. There is your sister or brother, naked, crying! And you stand confused over the choice of an attractive floor covering.
       — ST. AMBROSE

“Give Me Your Hand”

2011-07-12T08:33:00.013+01:00

12.07.2011

God speaks to each of us as he makes us,
then walks with us silently out of the night.

These are the words we dimly hear:

You, sent out beyond your recall,
go to the limits of your longing.
Embody me.

Flare up like a flame
and make big shadows I can move in.

Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.
Don't let yourself lose me.

Nearby is the country they call life.
You will know it by its seriousness.

Give me your hand.
— RAINER MARIA RILKE, “Go to the Limits of Your Longing”

The Person at the Centre

2011-07-08T12:07:00.012+01:00

08.07.2011

Paul Williams’s The Unexpected Way: On Converting from Buddhism to Catholicism is an enthralling book. As a Catholic fascinated by Buddhism, but also perplexed by some of its claims and teachings, I was very interested in this account of conversion. Paul was a leading Tibetan Buddhist (a Buddhist community that is part of the larger school known as Mahāyāna). He taught Indian and Tibetan philosophy at the University of Bristol — he still does. He is a former director of the Centre for Buddhist Studies at the same institution and a former president of the UK Association for Buddhist Studies.
The volume chronicles the thoughts that led him to Christianity and he is able to articulate some aspects (about Buddhist and Catholic thought) in illuminating form. He is now a lay member of the Dominican Order, which makes sense given his interest in study. This is one of the most concise and insightful passages in the book, considering the Buddhist concept of rebirth and the vital value of each person and each life to Christinity:

[I]f the Buddhist position is correct, then unless we attain a state (such as nirvāṇa) where in some way or another our rebirth will not matter, our death in this life is actually, really, the death of us. Death will be the end for us. Traditionally, at least on the day to day level, Buddhists tend to obscure this fact in their choice of language by referring to “my rebirth”, and “concern for one’s future lives”. But actually any rebirth (say, as a cockroach in South America) would not be oneself, and there is a serious question therefore as to why one should care at all about “one’s” future rebirths. Of course, one Buddhist response would be to say that it is an example of the very egoism one is trying to escape to be concerned whether the rebirth will be oneself or not. But I am not sure that helps much. We tend to forget that the original direction of Buddhism was towards the overriding urgency of the need to escape from the cycle of rebirth. Rebirth, in Buddhism and in other early Indian systems of liberation, was seen as horrific. To point out that “my” rebirth involves among other things the destruction of everything that counts as me would have been seen simply as emphasising how horrible rebirth is, and the need to escape from it through spiritual liberation, nirvāṇa.
       [...] In my essay [Altruism and Reality: Studies in the Philosophy of the Bodhicaryavatara (London: Routledge, 1997)] I range over a number of key Buddhist presuppositions that seem to me to be questionable. Thus I criticise the idea that the whole is simply a mental superimposition upon the parts. I attack the idea that the world of everyday life is a mental construct, and I argue that persons are not bundles, not constructs out of a series of evanescent mental and physical “parts”, but are rather prior to analysis into parts and presupposed in it. I criticise the idea of data like pains as conceptually prior to the person who possesses the pains, on the basis that pains necessarily involve subjects (“persons”, in the sense in which I use the term, which would include animals) and make no sense as free-floating.
       The broad direction of my critique is in favour of what might be called some form of “commonsense realism”, and towards minimalising the role of subjectivity (our minds) in the construction of our world. I see the problem of solipsism (the world is no more than the product of my consciousness) as endemic in all of Buddhist thought. I also see the move towards subjectivity, reflected in a tendency towards privileging individual mental states such as sense data and feelings over “everyday objects”, as ethically and religiously problematic. I tend to favour some form of ethical objectivism. I argue that the Buddhist tendency to reduce persons to other impersonal data claimed to be more fundamental, far from making Buddhism more coherent as an ethical base, actually removes what I am now inclined to think of as a mainstay of coherent ethics. That mainstay is the primacy and irreducible uniqueness of the person.
       Anyone familiar with Buddhist thought is able to see that in all of this I am attacking central presuppositions of the very direction Buddhism takes. Anyone familiar with Christian thought might also see here why I found Christianity intellectually tempting.[1]

______________________
[1] Paul Williams, The Unexpected Way: On Converting from Buddhism to Catholicism (London: T&T Clark, 2002), pp. 202-3. In some pages, he does not reach a conclusion about the importance of the mystical experiences that some Christian have had throughout the centuries. It seems clear however that he understands that such subjective experiences serve as intense confirmations of doctrines and not as bases for them. One need only to read, and comprehend how the Church has read, St. Catherine of Siena’s The Dialogue to corroborate this.

Frei Fernando

2011-07-05T09:21:00.006+01:00

05.07.2011

Relembraram-me ontem de um livro que vi há uns tempos nos escaparates: Do Eu Solitário ao Nós Solidário: Deus, o Homem e o Mundo, registo de um diálogo entre o jornalista Joaquim Franco e Frei Fernando Ventura, um leigo e um religioso. Lembrei-me desta espantosa conversa com José Manuel Pureza (CES/Universidade de Coimbra) aquando do lançamento de Caim de José Saramago. Frei Fernando é um Franciscano Capuchinho e esta ordem é responsável pela melhor e mais anotada tradução da Bíblia publicada em Portugal — uma Bíblia para quem quer estudar, meditar, e mergulhar na sua riqueza. Vale a pena ouvir com atenção.

Tarde Vos Amei

2011-07-01T18:30:00.004+01:00

01.07.2011

Para o coração de F.

Tarde Vos amei, Ó Beleza tão antiga e tão nova, tarde Vos amei. Habitáveis longamente dentro de mim, e eis-me lá fora a procurar-Vos. Dispersava-me entre as formosuras que criastes. Estáveis já comigo, sem que eu estivesse convosco! Demorava-me naquilo que não existiria se não existisse por Vós. Até que rompestes minha surdez, chamando por mim com voz tão forte. Brilhastes, cintilastes, por dentro da minha cegueira. Exalastes perfume: respirei-o e desejei-Vos com todas as minhas forças. Saboreei-Vos, e agora padeço de fome, morro de sede. Tocastes-me, e, sem a Vossa paz, sei que nunca mais terei paz!
— STO. AGOSTINHO, Confissões

Acknowledgments

2011-07-01T18:15:00.008+01:00

01.07.2011

As I have previously suggested, Augustine initiates a turn to the inner as the necessary way to God. This suggests further that an acknowledgment of God, say as trust in his promise, goes via the self-revelation and confession; or otherwise put, the third-person employment of acknowledgement is inextricably connected to the first-person employment. This brings out the religious sense in the fact that to acknowledge (recognise) the infinite other demands that I reveal myself in responding to that other, but also, conversely, that to acknowledge (reveal, confess) hitherto hidden aspects of myself takes place in the face of the (infinite) other. This is confirmed in Cavell’s reading of Descartes’ argument for God’s existence, which he takes to be saying that “it would not be possible for my nature to be what it is, possessing the idea of God, unless God really existed”, and we could add, if God does exist, so do I.
— ESPEN DAHL, “On Acknowledgment and Cavell’s Unacknowledged Theological Voice”

The Unity of the Body of Christ

2011-06-28T09:45:00.013+01:00

28.06.2011

I am not a student of theology (well, actually I am, but only in my free time) yet, from what I understand, I have to agree with Brett. Pope Benedict VI’s homily for Corpus Christi, given last week for the celebration of the feast, is brilliant and illuminating. Clear, simple, wise, it talks about mystery and it immerses us into it and therefore into life, making us think about the value of actions and the significance of Holy Communion. It is a privilege to have such a theologian as Pope, someone able to remind us, from time to time and in eloquent form, what is essential in the Christian faith. I quote the bit that Brett also quotes:

St. Augustine helps us to understand the dynamics of holy Communion when referring to a kind of vision he had, in which Jesus said to him: “I am the food of the mature: grow, then, and you shall eat me. You will not change me into yourself like bodily food; but you will be changed into me” (Confessions, VII, 10, 18). Therefore, while the bodily food is assimilated by the body and contributes to sustain it, the Eucharist is a different bread: We do not assimilate it, but it assimilates us to itself, so that we become conformed to Jesus Christ and members of his body, one with him. This is a decisive passage. Indeed, precisely because it is Christ who, in Eucharistic communion, transforms us into him, our individuality, in this encounter, is opened up, freed from its self-centeredness and placed in the Person of Jesus, who in turn is immersed in the Trinitarian communion. Thus, while the Eucharist unites us to Christ, we open ourselves to others making us members one of another: We are no longer divided, but one thing in him. Eucharistic communion unites me to the person next to me, and to the one with whom perhaps I might not even have a good relationship, but also to my brothers and sisters who are far away, in every corner of the world. Thus the deep sense of social presence of the Church is derived from the Eucharist, as evidenced by the great social saints, who have always been great Eucharistic souls. Those who recognize Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament, recognize their brother who suffers, who is hungry and thirsty, who is a stranger, naked, sick, imprisoned, and they are attentive to every person, committing themselves, in a concrete way, to those who are in need.
So from the gift of Christ’s love comes our special responsibility as Christians in building a cohesive, just and fraternal society. Especially in our time when globalization makes us increasingly dependent upon each other, Christianity can and must ensure that this unity will not be built without God, without true Love. This would give way to confusion and individualism, the oppression of some against others. The Gospel has always aimed at the unity of the human family, a unity not imposed from above, or by ideological or economic interests, but from a sense of responsibility toward each other, because we identify ourselves as members of the same body, the body of Christ, because we have learned and continually learn from the Sacrament of the Altar that communion, love is the path of true justice.

The Foundation of Universalism

2011-06-18T15:52:00.006+01:00

18.06.2011

But before faith came, we were kept under guard by the Law, locked up to wait for the faith which would eventually be revealed to us. So the Law was serving as a slave to look after us, to lead us to Christ, so that we could be justified by faith. But now that faith has come we are no longer under a slave looking after us; for all of you are the children of God, through faith, in Christ Jesus, since every one of you that has been baptised has been clothed in Christ. There can be neither Jew nor Greek, there can be neither slave nor freeman, there can be neither male nor female — for you are all one in Christ Jesus.
— ST. PAUL, Gal 3:23-28

This is the reason why Paul, apostle of the nations, not only refuses to stigmatize differences and customs, but also undertakes to accommodate them so that the process of their subjective disqualification might pass through them, within them. It is in fact the search for new differences, new particularities to which the universal might be exposed, that leads Paul beyond the evental site properly speaking (the Jewish site) and encourages him to displace the experience historically, geographically, ontologically. Whence a highly characteristic militant tonality, combining the appropriation of particularities with the immutability of principles, the empirical existence of differences with the essential nonexistence, according to a succession of problems requiring resolution, rather than through an amorphous synthesis. The text is charged with a remarkable intensity:

For though I am free from all men, I have made myself a slave to all, that I might win the more. To the Jews I became as a Jew, in order to win the Jews; to those under the law, I became as one under the Law — though not being myself under the Law — that I might win those under the Law. To those outside the Law I became as one outside the Law — not being without law toward God but under the law of Christ — that I might win those outside the Law. To the weak I became weak, that I might win the weak. I have become all things to all men. (1 Cor 9:19-22)

— ALAIN BADIOU, Saint Paul: The Foundation of Universalism

Vida Obstinada, Fé Querente

2011-06-16T10:24:00.009+01:00

16.06.2011

O obstinado é aquele que continua a fazer o que faz mesmo quando tudo parece demonstrar que não o pode fazer. No plano cognitivo esta atitude exprime-se deste modo: “Não podemos mais fazer isso”, mas continuamos a fazê-lo, contra ventos e marés. A obstinação traduz-se modalmente assim: “não posso, mas faço-o”. Como se vê, a modalidade dominante é aqui a do querer. O obstinado sabe que, no plano cognitivo tal é impossível, sabe que no plano do desejo quer o impossível. Catarina de Siena não tinha outro verbo a que se arrimar: “Io voglio” (“Eu quero”).
— JOSÉ AUGUSTO MOURÃO, OP, “A Guerra dos Paradigmas”

Present Future

2011-06-10T08:09:00.002+01:00

10.06.2011

The past is the present, isn’t it? It’s the future too.
— EUGENE O’NEILL, Long Day’s Journey Into Night

On Reading the Koran

2011-06-08T10:13:00.006+01:00

08.06.2011

Lesley Hazleton, an award-winning British-American writer who writes on politics, religion, and history, presented this talk at TED (Technology Entertainment and Design), the global set of conferences coordinated by the private non-profit organisation Sapling Foundation, formed to disseminate “ideas worth spreading”. She calls herself an “accidental theologian” and is the author of Mary: A Flesh-and-Blood Biography of the Virgin Mother (London: Bloomsbury, 2004). In this presentation, she discusses the adventure of really reading the Koran, with openness and without thinking that we already know what we are going to find. Given the events of the last decade, Islam has been the most caricatured religion in the world — and it is true that, as it happens in other religions, it is precisely some of its adherents who distort its teachings and oversimplify its beliefs.

O Voto Católico Bom e Mau

2011-06-04T01:39:00.003+01:00

04.06.2011

O meu amigo António Marujo, premiado jornalista de assuntos religiosos do jornal Público, assinou um belo artigo sobre o(s) voto(s) católico(s). Pode ser lido aqui.

Deus e Caravaggio

2011-06-03T17:12:00.020+01:00

03.06.2011

O Prof. Carlos Vidal (Faculdade de Belas-Artes da Universidade de Lisboa), crítico, artista, uma das vozes mais estimulantes e impertinentes no pensamento da arte em Portugal, lança na semana que vem o livro Deus e Caravaggio, uma edição Vendaval.

Um Deus que Dança

2011-06-02T16:12:00.006+01:00

02.06.2011

Da notícia da Agência Ecclesia:

Um Deus que Dança: Itinerários para a Oração é o novo livro do padre José Tolentino Mendonça, que vai ser lançado em Lisboa a 7 de junho.
       O volume constitui “um caso particular” nas obras do diretor do Secretariado Nacional da Pastoral da Cultura, dado que “o seu conteúdo não foi pensado, originalmente, para ser lido, mas para ser escutado”, sublinham os responsáveis pela edição em nota enviada hoje [...].
       A primeira parte do volume, intitulada ‘Livro das Pausas’, é constituída por meditações inspiradas em textos bíblicos, lidas no site www.passo-a-rezar.net pelos atores Pedro Granger e Susana Arrais, cujas locuções podem ser ouvidas no CD que acompanha o livro.
       A obra, com prefácio do encenador Luís Miguel Cintra e ilustrações do arquiteto e padre jesuíta João Norton, oferece no segundo capítulo, designado ‘Livro dos Andamentos’, “orações poéticas” lidas aos microfones da Rádio Renascença.
       “Acredito num Deus que dança”, “imiscuído, engajado, detetável até pelo impreciso radar dos sentidos, suscetível de ser invocado pelos motores de busca das nossas persistentes interrogações ou do nosso silêncio”, escreve o autor na introdução.
       Para o poeta e biblista, as palavras, “por pobres que sejam, constituem pontes de corda lançadas sobre a amplidão do mistério”, e nelas se perscruta o “assobio que anuncia os passos do viandante que chega ou que parte”.
       O professor da Faculdade de Teologia da Universidade Católica Portuguesa sublinha que “a oração não se constrói de palavras, mas de relação”, pelo que o “mais importante” é a “celebração de um encontro”.
       A sessão de lançamento do livro realiza-se às 18h00, no espaço da companhia Olga Roriz, com a presença de José Tolentino Mendonça, Luís Miguel Cintra e João Norton.

A Faith That Sees

2011-05-21T12:59:00.004+01:00

21.05.2011

Art cannot be “produced”, as one contracts out and produces technical equipment. It is always a gift. Inspiration is not something one can choose for oneself. It has to be received, otherwise it is not there. One cannot bring about a renewal of art in faith by money or through commissions. Before all things it requires the gift of a new kind of seeing. And so it would be worth our while to regain a faith that sees. Wherever that exists, art finds its proper expressions.
— JOSEPH RATZINGER, The Spirit of the Liturgy

Há uma Erótica Cristã?

2011-05-20T12:10:00.005+01:00

20.05.2011

“Be!”, Say the Saints

2011-05-19T13:34:00.015+01:00

19.05.2011

The highest manifestation of life consists in this: that a being governs its own actions. A thing which is always subject to the direction of another is somewhat of a dead thing.
— ST. THOMAS AQUINAS, OP

Each of us has a soul, but we forget to value it. We don’t remember that we are creatures made in the image of God. We don’t understand the great secrets hidden inside of us.
— ST. TERESA OF ÁVILA (TERESA OF JESUS), OCD

If you are what you should be, you will set the whole world ablaze.
— ST. CATHERINE OF SIENA, OP

In Memoriam, José Augusto Mourão (1947-2011)

2011-05-05T14:00:00.016+01:00

05.05.2011

Soube agora mesmo que José Augusto Mourão, meu colega de departamento na Universidade Nova de Lisboa, faleceu hoje. Para além do seu trabalho académico nos domínios da semiótica, hipertextualidade e cultura, era frade da Ordem dos Pregadores ou Dominicanos, que como ele escreveu “têm como lema a procura da verdade, o amor ao estudo e ao estar-se com”. Era também presidente do Instituto São Tomás de Aquino (ISTA) sediado no Convento de S. Domingos. Recordo um homem de uma humilde convicção, em escuta permanente, sempre inquieto, à procura, tentando evitar as armadilhas e a arrogância do nosso discurso sobre o mundo e sobre os outros.
Deixo um poema seu em duas partes, “Protestatio et Confessio”, para estarmos mais uma vez com ele:

I
Renuncio à verdade solitária ou particular
renuncio à fé sem amor, que é o puro subjectivismo
creio na dimensão militante de toda a verdade
creio no amor como fidelidade ao puro dom da graça
renuncio à esperança judiciária, distributiva,
que dá a uns a recompensa e a outros o inferno
creio em Deus, força da vida e madrugada de todas as coisas
creio na reconciliação no amor como poder universal
renuncio a uma fé salarial e à visão sacrificial
que justifica a fome, a morte, a vítima
renuncio à vida do desejo como autonomia, que é o pecado
renuncio a um coração que seja em nós um rio que não corre
creio na ressurreição subtraída ao poder da morte
creio na liberdade do Espírito desampara os que só na letra se arrimam
renuncio ao fel das relações envenenadas
a sedução do dinheiro que compra a vida e a fama
creio na Páscoa do mundo que a Sarça transfigura
creio no trabalho do amor que borda a paz e a justiça
II
à banalização do mal eu digo não
à tecnologia das próteses e ao mercado
que conforta em nós Narciso, digo não
digo não à xenografia da catástrofe mole,
à vociferação que matou Abel
e à justificação da violência como lei
ao discurso peremptório digo não também
e à satanização do outro
que nos defende de nós próprios
digo não à maneira do ser humano
regido pelo “valor” de troca
e pelo imanentismo que leva ao caos pluralista
creio no universo libertado,
em expansão, e não feito apenas de acaso e de necessidade
creio no homem em devir
que vem do desejo e da Vida absoluta de Deus
e não do determinismo biológico
creio em Deus como a festa maior que há-de vir
e das encruzilhadas em que os pedintes nos surpreendem
creio no Deus das noites sem apelo
do silêncio insepulto
e das claras madrugadas
creio no Pai que no dom do Filho se retira
creio em Jesus Cristo, o Verbo feito carne
e voz de sangue inconsporcado
creio no dom que ele foi até ao fim
e a todos alcançou
creio na Páscoa do Espírito e do Fogo
creio no Espírito da diferença irredutível,
no intenso e no profundo que nos liga
ao espaço-tempo da presença-amante

Make the Heart Simple

2011-05-04T01:08:00.007+01:00

04.05.2011

You, Light, make the heart simple,
not two-faced.
You make it big,
not stingy —
so big that it has room in its loving charity
for everyone
— ST. CATHERINE OF SIENA, “Prayer 15” [22 Feb. 1379]

A Christian Never Rejoices in the Killing of a Man

2011-05-03T10:47:00.004+01:00

03.05.2011

Bin Laden is dead. Reports keep emerging that show American Christians (and American Muslims) celebrating his death with great joy. This is a cruel response that reduces another human being to nothing but a target of hate. As the Jesuit Fr. Federico Lombardi says here, “Osama bin Laden — as we all know — was gravely responsible for promoting division and hatred between peoples, causing the end of countless innocent lives, and of exploiting religions to this end.” Yet when “[f]aced with the death of a man, a Christian never rejoices, but reflects on the serious responsibility of each and every one of us before God and before man, and hopes and commits himself so that no event be an opportunity for further growth of hatred, but for peace.”
Have we forgotten how Jesus taught the centrality of the commandment of love when he replied to a scribe about which is the first of all the commandments?:

“This is the first: Listen, Israel, the Lord our God is the one, only Lord, and you must love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind and with all your strength. The second is this: You must love your neighbour as yourself. There is no commandment greater than these.” (Mk 12:29-31)

Na Missa da Ceia do Senhor

2011-05-01T16:37:00.007+01:00

02.05.2011

Um esquisso da F. feito na Basília de S. João de Latrão em Roma — que se tornou numa oferta incondicional, não solicitada, de amor, tal como a entrega da Última Ceia.

Prayers for my Mother

2011-05-01T12:50:00.007+01:00

01.05.2011

Today is mother’s day. It has been eleven years since my mother passed away. On this day, I usually dedicate a rosary to her on the five glorious mysteries and meditate on each mystery (the Resurrection, the Ascension, the descent of the Holy Spirit, the Assumption of Mary, the Coronation of the Blessed Virgin Mary) with her in mind. The fruits of the mysteries — steadfast faith, trust in God’s promises, courage to confess the faith and act according to it, grace of a happy death, and trusting devotion to Mary — may be summed up in the glory of hope. It is this same ardent hope that guides my thoughts about my mother and her soul.
Why this focus on Mary? Because for catholics (and orthodox) christians, Mary is the image and model of humanity redeemed and transformed by Christ. In her humbleness and sinlessness, Mother Mary shows the destiny that is open to us — and that is up to us to pursue. My mother shared her name with Our Lady. She was named Maria. When I entreat Mary to pray for her soul,[1] I imagine their mirrored communication and communion: Mary is my spiritual mother, she is my earthly mother.
To conclude, I say a personal prayer from my heart, which still remembers (and relies on) my mother’s love. As I said it today, I recalled a passage from one of St. Catherine of Siena’s passionate and beautiful prayers:

And you gave us our will
so that we might be able to love
what our understanding has seen
and what our memory has held.[2]

______________________
[1] “Holy Mary, Mother of God, / pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of death” (“Hail Mary”).
[2] Catherine of Siena, “Prayer 20” [14 Apr. 1379], in The Prayers of Catherine of Siena, 2nd edn., ed. and trans. Suzanne Noffke, OP (San Jose, CA: Authors Choice Press, 2001), p. 227.

A Warning to Democracies Everywhere

2011-04-13T22:20:00.007+01:00

13.04.2011

Robert M. Fishman, an American sociologist who has been studying Portuguese and Spanish democracies and economies for some time, provides a informed view on Portugal’s (unnecessary) bailout here. This article from a professor at one of the best Catholic universities in the world, the University of Notre Dame, confirms some of my own thoughts.

Baptismo e Quaresma por Bento XVI

2011-04-05T14:36:00.009+01:00

05.04.2011

O nosso imergir na morte e ressurreição de Cristo através do Sacramento do Baptismo, estimula-nos todos os dias a libertar o nosso coração das coisas materiais, de um vínculo egoísta com a “terra”, que nos empobrece e nos impede de estar disponíveis e abertos a Deus e ao próximo.

Liberdade Religiosa

2011-03-22T10:05:00.002Z

22.03.2011

Místicos Cristãos IV

2011-02-14T01:50:00.014Z

14.02.2011

As seguintes sessões do curso Místicos Cristãos IV têm lugar às 15:30 na Sala Alberto Lourenço da Igreja de Santa Isabel em Lisboa:

29 JAN. 2011
Orígenes (Pastor Dimas de Almeida)

26 FEV. 2011
Maria de Lourdes Belchior (Pe. José Tolentino Mendonça)

26 MAR. 2011
Sto. António de Pádua (Maria de Lourdes Sirgado Ganho)

30 ABR. 2011
Pseudo-Dionísio (Fr. Rui Grácio das Neves, OP)

28 MAIO 2011
Sto. Inácio de Loyola (Pe. João Norton, SJ)

18 JUN. 2011
Thomas Merton (Pe. Peter Stilwell)

Esta quarta edição, que preserva esta iniciativa como espaço ecuménico (com a participação de um pastor protestante) e plural (com o envolvimento de leigos), sucede-se às três anteriores que tiveram os programas que listo em baixo.

MÍSTICOS CRISTÃOS I:
Tradição Hesicasta (Maria Margarida Barros)
S. Bruno (Monja de Belém)
S. Francisco de Assis (Fr. Luís de Oliveira, OFM)
S. Bento (Pe. Lino M. Moreira, OSB)
Etty Hillesum (Pe. José Tolentino Mendonça)
Sta. Catarina de Siena (Ana Maria Jorge)

MÍSTICOS CRISTÃOS II:
Mestre Eckhart (Fr. José Carlos Lopes Almeida, OP)
S. João da Cruz (Fr. Luís de Oliveira, OFM)
Sta. Teresa de Ávila (Isabel Allegro Magalhães)
Simone Weil (Manuela Silva)

MÍSTICOS CRISTÃOS III:
Hildegarde de Bingen (Maria José Salema)
Sta. Teresa Benedita da Cruz (Edith Stein) (Pe. José Tolentino Mendonça)
S. Clemente de Alexandria (Pastor Dimas de Almeida)
Daniel Faria (D. Carlos Moreira Azevedo)

Fundamentalism and Dogmatism

2011-02-12T11:51:00.002Z

12.02.2011

Rejecting the existence of fundamental declarations hold as true (dogmas) is naive. This does not mean that we should not discuss them; indeed it means that we must discuss, interpret, grasp them.
The problem with fundamentalism is its broad understanding of what counts as fundamental. In a similar way, dogmatism, as a general way of thinking, considers any religious belief as a dogma. One and the other make a discussion not only undesirable, but also inconceivable. Here lies the threat that they pose.

The Right Words

2011-02-09T19:26:00.009Z

09.02.2011

You may battle against the Christian’s self-understanding from within Christianity, as Kierkegaard declares, or from beyond Christianity, as Nietzsche declares. In both cases you are embattled because you find the words of the Christian to be the right words.
— STANLEY CAVELL, The Claim of Reason

Colaborar na Obra da Criação

2010-12-29T12:55:00.037Z

29.12.2010

Reconheço-me nas seguintes palavras do falecido Ernâni Lopes. A 2 de Dezembro do ano que agora finda perdemos uma voz que não se cansava de dar testemunho da fé e de como “se ela não tiver obras, está completamente morta” (Tg 2,17), num gesto de colaboração na Criação:

MARIA JOÃO ALEXANDRE: Onde vai buscar essa energia de quem nada tem a perder?
ÊRNANI LOPES: Em bom rigor, não dou por isso. Tenho uma visão muito distanciada — sobretudo, nos últimos anos — muito mais profunda da vida, pela única razão de que estive quase morto. A minha vida foi salva por uma das minhas filhas, quando percebeu que eu ia morrer e me levou para o IPO. Estive um mês e meio sem saber se morria, se ficava vivo. Hoje, olho para as coisas com um distanciamento e uma profundidade maiores. Sei desde há muitas décadas e verifico, permanentemente, que o Homem é o único ser vivo que tem a capacidade de trabalhar conscientemente, porque todos os outros ou não trabalham ou trabalham por instinto (as abelhas, as formigas) ou à força (o burro na nora ou na carroça). Nós trabalhamos conscientemente, uns com mais gosto, outros com menos. É inequívoco para mim que o Homem com essa capacidade é o único ser vivo que pode colaborar na obra da criação. Sendo certo que esta obra não é um ponto de partida, é algo que se constrói ao longo do tempo. Quando trabalhamos, temos a consciência de que estamos a cooperar na obra da criação.
ALEXANDRE: O que acaba de dizer é absolutamente fascinante...
LOPES: Isto é o trivial da minha vida.
ALEXANDRE: De trivial é que esse raciocíonio não tem nada...
LOPES: O primeiro ponto é o modo de ver as coisas. Quando trabalhamos, se temos essa consciência, estamos a contribuir para aperfeiçoar o mundo e a nós próprios. O trabalho não é um peso, é um acto de dimensão espiritual absoluta, porque estamos a cooperar com Deus. Eu não preciso de mais nada. Basta olhar para o mundo e compreendê-lo.[1]

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[1] Maria João Alexandre, “Ernâni Lopes: O Guru da Nação”, Cx: A Revista da Caixa, n.º 2 (2010), pp. 58-59 (ed. minha).

A Beleza Brota do Mistério

2010-11-30T00:00:00.028Z

30.11.2010

Fixo e reflicto sobre esta resposta do Cón. Luís Manuel, director do Departamento de Liturgia do Patriarcado de Lisboa, em relação à redução da liturgia ao aspecto exterior da Celebração Eucarística:

Esse é um perigo de todos os tempos. Normalmente quando não se sabe o que se celebra prende-se à forma e não ao conteúdo. Quem não sabe o mistério que está a celebrar fica-se pelo exterior. Aconteceu, um dia, no fim de uma grande celebração na Sé, presidida pelo Senhor Patriarca, que alguém cumprimentando-o dizia ter visto um “espectáculo religioso tão bonito”. Esta expressão reflecte alguém que, certamente, esteve de fora. A liturgia não é espectáculo. A liturgia deve primar pela beleza que brota do mistério que ela celebra. O Papa Bento XVI na exortação apostólica Sacramentum Caritatis, quando fala da beleza da liturgia coloca essa beleza no crucificado e no Senhor ressuscitado. A beleza da liturgia está na celebração desse mistério redentor que perpassa pela fragilidade do crucificado mas, ao mesmo tempo, já vive da glória e da vitória do túmulo vazio do Senhor glorificado na manhã da Páscoa. É este mistério cristão que incute beleza à liturgia. A liturgia vive de ritos e de preces. Vive de ritos porque o Homem precisa da ritualidade. Nós não somos anjos, somos seres de mediação. Temos um corpo, faculdades, e enquanto vivermos na Terra toda a nossa liturgia vai ter de ser mediada por aquilo que Jesus nos deixou. E não é por acaso que Jesus nos deixa, nos sacramentos, os elementos básicos da natureza: no pão, no vinho, na água, na luz, no azeite, etc. Portanto, a liturgia vive de uma concretude. Não para que a concretude seja o fim da liturgia, mas porque Deus usou dessas realidades simples e básicas para nos comunicar a graça da redenção que cada sacramento nos traz. Ora a beleza da liturgia brota deste mistério todo. É claro que o canto, os paramentos, os gestos, as orações, devem ser belos. A presidência deve ser bela [...], o exercício dos ministérios ligados à liturgia devem ser feitos com a maior das belezas, mas aquela beleza que brota de um coração, de uma vida que está a celebrar um mistério.[1]

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[1] Nuno Rosário Fernandes, “Advento É Tempo de Espera, Conversão, Oração e Caridade: Entrevista ao Cónego Luís Manuel”, Voz da Verdade, n.º 3962, 28 Nov. 2010, p. 9 (ed. minha).

Bono on the Messiah (5)

2010-07-09T00:01:00.029+01:00

09.07.2010

But I love the idea of the Sacrificial Lamb. I love the idea that God says: "Look, you cretins, there are certain results to the way we are, to selfishness, and there's a mortality as part of your very sinful nature, and, let's face it, you're not living a very good life, are you?" There are consequences to actions. The point of the death of Christ is that Christ took on the sins of the world, so that what we put out did not come back to us, and that our sinful nature does not reap the obvious death. That's the point. It should keep us humbled.
       [...] Look, the secular response to the Christ story always goes like this: he was a great prophet, obviously a very interesting guy, had a lot to say along the lines of other great prophets, be they Elijah, Muhammad, Buddha, or Confucius. But actually Christ doesn't allow you that. He doesn't let you off that hook. Christ says: No. I'm not saying I'm a teacher, don't call me teacher. I'm not saying I'm a prophet. I'm saying: "I'm the Messiah." I'm saying: "I am God incarnate." And people say: No, no, please, just be a prophet. A prophet, we can take. You're a bit eccentric. We've had John the Baptist eating locusts and wild honey, we can handle that. But don't mention the "M" word! Because, you know, we're gonna have to crucify you. And he goes: No, no. I know you're expecting me to come back with an army, and set you free from these creeps, but actually I am the Messiah. At this point, everyone starts staring at their shoes, and says: Oh, my God, he's gonna keep saying this. So what you're left with is: either Christ was who He said He was — the Messiah — or a complete nutcase. I mean, we're talking nutcase on the level of Charles Manson. This man was like some of the people we've been talking about earlier. This man was strapping himself to a bomb, and had "King of the Jews" on his head, and, as they were putting him up on the Cross, was going: OK, martyrdom, here we go. Bring on the pain! I can take it. I'm not joking here. The idea that the entire course of civilization for over half of the globe could have its fate changed and turned upside-down by a nutcase, for me, that's farfetched.
       [...] [I]f only we could be a bit more like Him, the world would be transformed. …When I look at the Cross of Christ, what I see up there is all my shit and everybody else's. So I ask myself a question a lot of people have asked: Who is this man? And was He who He said He was, or was He just a religious nut? And there it is, and that's the question. And no one can talk you into it or out of it.
       — BONO, Bono: In Conversation with Michka Assayas

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“Bono on...”: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4)

Bono on Grace (4)

2010-07-08T01:00:00.019+01:00

08.07.2010

It’s a mind-blowing concept that the God who created the universe might be looking for company, a real relationship with people, but the thing that keeps me on my knees is the difference between Grace and Karma.
       [...] I really believe we’ve moved out of the realm of Karma into one of Grace.
       [...] You see, at the center of all religions is the idea of Karma. You know, what you put out comes back to you: an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, or in physics — in physical laws — every action is met by an equal or an opposite one. It’s clear to me that Karma is at the very heart of the universe. I’m absolutely sure of it. And yet, along comes this idea called Grace to upend all that “as you reap, so you will sow” stuff. Grace defies reason and logic. Love interrupts, if you like, the consequences of your actions, which in my case is very good news indeed, because I’ve done a lot of stupid stuff.
       [...] I’d be in big trouble if Karma was going to finally be my judge. I’d be in deep shit. It doesn’t excuse my mistakes, but I’m holding out for Grace. I’m holding out that Jesus took my sins onto the Cross, because I know who I am, and I hope I don’t have to depend on my own religiosity.
       — BONO, Bono: In Conversation with Michka Assayas

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“Bono on...”: (1) | (2) | (3)

Bono on the Church (3)

2010-07-07T22:48:00.017+01:00

07.07.2010

Religion can be the enemy of God. It’s often what happens when God, like Elvis, has left the building. A list of instructions where there was once conviction; dogma where once people just did it; a congregation led by a man where once they were led by the Holy Spirit. Discipline replacing discipleship.
       [...] Let’s not get too hard on the Holy Roman Church here. The Church has its problems, but the older I get, the more comfort I find there. The physical experience of being in a crowd of largely humble people, heads bowed, murmuring prayers, stories told in stained-glass windows.
       [...] I can be critical, especially on the topic of contraception. But when I meet someone like Sister Benedicta and see her work with AIDS orphans in Addis Ababa, or Sister Ann doing the same in Malawi, or Father Jack Fenukan and his group Concern all over Africa, when I meet priests and nuns tending to the sick and the poor and giving up much easier lives to do so, I surrender a little easier.
       — BONO, Bono: In Conversation with Michka Assayas

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“Bono on...”: (1) | (2)

Bono on Christ (2)

2010-06-29T22:29:00.027+01:00

29.06.2010

My understanding of the Scriptures has been made simple by the person of Christ. Christ teaches that God is love. What does that mean? What it means for me: a study of the life of Christ. Love here describes itself as a child born in straw poverty, the most vulnerable situation of all, without honor. I don’t let my religious world get too complicated. I just kind of go: Well, I think I know what God is. God is love, and as much as I respond in allowing myself to be transformed by that love and acting in that love, that’s my religion. Where things get complicated for me, is when I try to live this love. Now that’s not so easy.
[...] There’s nothing hippie about my picture of Christ. The Gospels paint a picture of a very demanding, sometimes divisive love, but love it is. I accept the Old Testament as more of an action movie: blood, car chases, evacuations, a lot of special effects, seas dividing, mass murder, adultery. The children of God are running amok, wayward. Maybe that’s why they’re so relatable. But the way we would see it, those of us who are trying to figure out our Christian conundrum, is that the God of the Old Testament is like the journey from stern father to friend. When you’re a child, you need clear directions and some strict rules. But with Christ, we have access in a one-to-one relationship, for, as in the Old Testament, it was more one of worship and awe, a vertical relationship. The New Testament, on the other hand, we look across at a Jesus who looks familiar, horizontal. The combination is what makes the Cross.
— BONO, Bono: In Conversation with Michka Assayas

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“Bono on...”: (1)

Bono on... (1)

2010-06-28T22:51:00.011+01:00

28.06.2010

The next posts will contain words by Bono, the leader of the band U2, on issues related with Christianity. His mother Iris was Anglican and his father Brendan was Catholic. He seems to be half-Anglican half-Catholic, but totally Christian. Bear with me. He married Alison Hewson in 1982 in the Church of Ireland. At the same time, he demonstrates reverence for the Catholic Church and says that he finds reassurance in her.
It is evident for anyone who listens carefully that Christian imagery permeates his lyrics. I quote him not because what he says is exemplary, but because it is rare. It is rare to hear a music artist dwell on the subject of God and faith and go beyond saying that he or she is grateful to God for his or her success. In these quotes, he displays his heart — that is, his doubts and convictions.

Something Actual, Something Real

2010-06-26T00:01:00.016+01:00

28.06.2010

Christianity is not a doctrine, not, I mean, a theory about what has happened and will happen to the human soul, but a description of something that actually takes place in human life. For “consciousness of sin” is a real event and so are despair and salvation through faith.
— LUDWIG WITTGENSTEIN, Culture and Value

Reflexões sobre o Pensamento de Bento XVI

2010-05-01T12:15:00.015+01:00

01.05.2010

O Instituto de Estudos Políticos da Universidade Católica Portuguesa apresenta a 3 de Maio, uma conferência intitulada Reflexões sobre o Pensamento de Bento XVI. O evento é motivado pela visita do Papa a Portugal, mas é sobretudo uma rara ocasião para discutir em público as frutuosas contribuições da obra de Bento XVI. Mais informações aqui.

Os Hesicastas

2010-04-24T22:43:00.023+01:00

30.04.2010

Um texto de João Bénard da Costa a propósito de The Last Temptation of Christ (A Última Tentação de Cristo, 1988), realizado por Martin Scorsese, baseado no romance de Nikos Kazantzakis adaptado por Paul Schrader:

No século VI da nossa era, Justiniano, Imperador de Bizâncio, fundou no Monte Sinai o Mosteiro de Santa Catarina. A abside da igreja principal foi decorada com um mosaico que representa a Transfiguração. Para os primeiros monges do convento, essa visão só concedida a três Apóstolos (Pedro, Tiago e João) e em que Cristo, no Monte Tabor, lhes apareceu ao lado de Elias e de Moisés, era a única manifestação da “luz de Deus”, depois da Aparição de Jeová a Moisés, no Monte Sinai. Sintomaticamente, em toda a tradição da mística ortodoxa até ao século IV, a “luz dos séculos a vir” (essa luz que tornou as vestes de Cristo mais resplandecentes e brancas do que qualquer greda de terra, na descrição de Marcos, 9:2-8), surgida por antecipação no Sinai, manifestou-se plenamente no Tabor. Para atingir o êxtase dos Apóstolos em tal momento (êxtase tal que Jesus, quando desciam do Monte, lhes proibiu que contassem o que tinham visto fosse a quem fosse “até que o Filho do Homem ressuscitasse dos mortos”) essa luz foi a imagem mais procurada pelos monges do Oriente Cristão.
       Entre eles, avulta João, chamado Clímaco, Higómeno de Santa Catarina entre 580 e 650. O cognome veio-lhe da sua obra mais célebre: A Escada do Paraíso (klimax é o nome grego para escada).
       Nesse livro, onde se reflectem influências muito mais antigas, como as de Macário o Egípcio e de Evagro Pôntico, desenvolve-se um complexíssimo sistema de espiritualidade monacal e estabelece-se uma radical diferença entre o hesicasta (de hésiquia=“solidão”) e o cenobita. “O hesicasta é aquele que aspira a circunscrever o Incorporal no seu corpo carnal. É o que vive sozinho com Deus. O cenobita precisa da ajuda dos irmãos. O hesicasta só pode ser auxiliado pelos anjos.” Por isso, “fechai a porta da vossa cela ao vosso corpo, a porta da vossa boca às vossas palavras, a porta interior aos espíritos”. Mais vale um pobre obediente do que um hesicasta distraído. A solidão é um culto e um serviço ininterrupto a Deus. Seja a vossa respiração (“sopro”) tão una como a memória de Jesus. Percebereis, então, a necessidade da solidão.”
       A oração de Jesus está, pois, no centro de toda a espiritualidade hesicástica. O Nome do Verbo Encarnado confunde-se com as funções essenciais à vida: está presente no “coração”, está ligado à “respiração”. Mas João, o Clímaco, como todos os grandes doutores da “oração ininterrupta”, avisa contra as possíveis confusões entre «a memória de Jesus» e os efeitos que a imaginação pode produzir na alma dos monges. Nunca essa “memória” deve tomar a forma de “meditação” sobre tal ou tal episódio da vida de Cristo, nunca o noviço deve representar uma imagem exterior a si próprio. Só assim, “a visão luminosa” pode deixar de ser entendida como símbolo ou como consequência da imaginação, para ser rigorosamente uma teofania, tão real como a do Monte Tabor, pois que nela se tornará presente o próprio Corpo Deificado de Cristo.
       A distinção entre a visão desse Corpo Deificado (que só três Apóstolos tiveram no Monte Tabor) e a representação do corpo humano (visto por todos os que conheceram Cristo e imaginável em qualquer representação de Cristo) é capital na patrística ortodoxa como o fora na patrística grega. Tinha a vencer dois escolhos consideráveis, de sinal oposto: ou uma tal abstracção da Pessoa de Cristo que o mistério da Encarnação acabava por ficar elidido (concepção neoplatónica da divindade natural do intelecto, que ainda é dominante em Evagro Pôntico) ou uma representação tão presente do Seu Corpo Humano que “a luz dos séculos a vir” se podia reduzir à imagem mental. E João, o Clímaco, retoma a distinção na própria visão do Cristo sobre Si Próprio. O que os Apóstolos viram na Transfiguração jamais Ele o viu. “O Seu próprio Corpo era um limite à Sua Glória. Era um Corpo que podia ser tocado por outros corpos, ao contrário do Corpo Ressuscitado ou Transfigurado (Noli mi tangere)”. Se alguns predecessores do autor de A Escada do Paraíso (por exemplo, os Messalianos, para os quais Deus e Satanás coexistiam no homem como forças iguais) tinham tendido (como o maometanismo que, em parte, deles descende) para a interdição de qualquer representação da imagem divina, os hesicastas de Santa Catarina insistiam nessa representação (precisamente para a separar da visão) e incluem, igualmente, como acima disse, as primeiras pinturas conhecidas tendo como tema a Transfiguração. Mais tarde, Gregório de Nissa falará das “trevas de Deus” ou da “treva luminosa” e Simeão acentuará o realismo intenso de uma mística cristocêntrica, distinguindo a Essência Divina (que a teologia apofática ou negativa postulara como radicalmente inacessível) e a presença de Cristo nos homens e como homem, acto (energela) livre de Deus.
       A esta altura desta árida crónica (uma vez não é costume e só poucos saberão como estou a banalizar-me) quem ainda não desistiu perguntará a que propósito vem tudo isto e o que é que tudo isto tem que ver com os meus filmes da vida. Apetecia-me responder-lhes com um flashback sobre a velha Faculdade de Letras (a do Convento de Jesus) e sobre o meu professor de História da Filosofia Medieval, o dr. Luís Ribeiro Soares, que, em mim e noutros, incutiu para sempre o gosto por estas questões. Não é culpa dele se tendi sempre a vê-las mais sob espécie estética do que teológica.
       Mas, se não fosse o que com ele aprendi, também teria ficado com uma visão meramente estética do filme de Scorsese, The Last Temptation of Christ.
       Porque uma das reflexões mais apaixonantes que se podem fazer em torno deste filme é precisamente a do conflito nele figurado entre o texto de Kazantzakis que Scorsese adaptou (profundamente imbuído desta tradição da mística ortodoxa) e a formação católica do realizador, inscrita numa tradição que, há muitos séculos, subalternizou ou esqueceu estas questões. O filme de Scorsese surge, assim, por um lado, como uma metáfora católica do mistério da dupla natureza de Cristo e, por outro lado, como uma aproximação da visão dos hesicastas, retratando Cristo dentro dessa antiquíssima tradição.
       Duas sequências do filme colocam o problema de modo inédito no imaginário ocidental.
       A primeira é a sequência da ressurreição de Lázaro. Se nela subsiste o conhecido paralelismo com a ressurreição de Cristo (como Cristo, Lázaro, foi ressuscitado ao fim do terceiro dia) a representação, nessa sequência, dos corpos de Cristo e de Lázaro, ecoa a distinção capital entre visão e imagem. Face às trevas do túmulo, e à abertura da gruta onde jaz Lázaro, Cristo é quase reduzido a silhueta, como se se despisse da corporalidade e fosse pura luz. Pelo contrário, Lázaro, quando ressuscita, é a imagem do Cristo das Dores da tradição ocidental. Mas quando caminha para Cristo, uma luz diversa o nimba, como se ele também fosse prefiguração da “luz dos séculos a vir”.
       A outra sequência é a da entrega por Cristo do seu Coração, imagem fortíssimamente carnal, mas que reconduz a quanto atrás se disse sobre a fusão do Verbo Encarnado com as funções essenciais à vida. Em muitas outras sequências, nomeadamente na prodigiosa sequência da tentação no deserto, o que Scorsese encena é, rigorosamente, a distinção entre visão e representação, memória de deus e imagem do mundo. Por isso, é tão singularmente coerente que a última tentação seja uma representação representação conduzida por um anjo, único companheiro do Cristo Hesicástico), representação apenas interrompida quando a visão se sobrepõe a ela, ou seja, quando Cristo se redescobre, sozinho, na Cruz. Por isso, Kazantzakis fala do “tudo está consumado” como de um “grito triunfal”.
       “Porque era como se dissesse: tudo começa.” Conseguir essa visão através de uma imagem — último plano do filme — é proclamar a realidade da energia e a radical inacessibilidade da essência.
       Nada se entende de nada, se não se entender isto.

The Shadows of the Church

2010-04-13T10:53:00.010+01:00

13.04.2010

I am a Christian then a Catholic. I am Catholic because I am Christian. I know a lot of Christians from other churches, but for me the Church of Christ is about community, the kind of unity that happened in the beginning, with the first followers of Christ, who were transformed by and through him (and not only because of his teachings). This unity has to be visible and this is what the Catholic Church embodies.
The great Dominican priest and friar Timothy Radcliffe, the only member of the English Province of the Dominicans to have held the office of Master of the Order of Preachers (from 1992 to 2001) since the Order’s foundation in 1216,[1] puts it like this:

[...] I am not a Catholic because our Church is the best, or even because I like Catholicism. I do love much about my Church but there are aspects of it which I dislike. I am not a Catholic because of a consumer option for an ecclesiastical Waitrose rather than Tesco, but because I believe that it embodies something which is essential to the Christian witness to the Resurrection, visible unity.
       When Jesus died, his community fell apart. He had been betrayed, denied, and most of his disciples fled. It was chiefly the women who accompanied him to the end. On Easter Day, he appeared to the disciples. This was more than the physical resuscitation of a dead corpse.
       In him God triumphed over all that destroys community: sin, cowardice, lies, misunderstanding, suffering and death. The Resurrection was made visible to the world in the astonishing sight of a community reborn. These cowards and deniers were gathered together again. They were not a reputable bunch, and shamefaced at what they had done, but once again they were one. The unity of the Church is a sign that all the forces that fragment and scatter are defeated in Christ.
       All Christians are one in the Body of Christ. I have deepest respect and affection for Christians from other Churches who nurture and inspire me. But this unity in Christ needs some visible embodiment. Christianity is not a vague spirituality but a religion of incarnation, in which the deepest truths take the physical and sometimes institutional form. Historically this unity has found its focus in Peter, the Rock in Matthew, Mark and Luke, and the shepherd of the flock in John’s gospel.
       From the beginning and throughout history, Peter has often been a wobbly rock, a source of scandal, corrupt, and yet this is the one — and his successors — whose task is to hold us together so that we may witness to Christ’s defeat on Easter Day of sin’s power to divide. And so the Church is stuck with me whatever happens. We may be embarrassed to admit that we are Catholics, but Jesus kept shameful company from the beginning.[2]

Looking at the history of the Church I understand why many are drawn to other Christian denominations, to other religions, and even to atheism. Some influential members of the Church did not follow the Gospel. But why should we be surprised by this? Sin exists. We are all — all — in need of salvation. That is why the Church was founded by Jesus Christ. It is a place for sinners, the place where sinners may recognise themselves as such, repent, and find forgiveness, hope, and the joy of doing good — only some of its member do not do this. The Church is holy because in her, by being part of her, we find holiness, not because everybody in her is holy. In fact, the Church mirrors (perhaps it even intensifies) the struggles that we, humans, go through. The Church is not perfect. It is made of imperfect creatures with a divine mission defined and began by Jesus.
In the second tale of the first volume of Boccacio’s The Decameron, Abraham, a Jew goes to Rome during the Borgia reign [3] to decide whether or not to convert to Christianity. Having seen the evil life of the Pope and the curia, he returns to Paris and decides that he wants to be baptised. Read carefully what he says to his Christian friend, the merchant Giannotto di Civignì:

To the best of my judgment, your Pastor, and by consequence all that are about him devote all their zeal and ingenuity and subtlety to devise how best and most speedily they may bring the Christian religion to nought and banish it from the world. And because I see that what they so zealously endeavour does not come to pass, but that on the contrary your religion continually grows, and shines more and more clear, therein I seem to discern a very evident token that it, rather than any other, as being more true and holy than any other, has the Holy Spirit for its foundation and support.[4]

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          [1] I have read and written about two of his books, What Is the Point of Being a Christian? (London: Burns & Oates, 2005) and Why Go to Church?: The Drama of the Eucharist (New York: Continuum, 2008).
          [2] Timothy Radcliffe, “Should I Stay or Should I Go?: Clerical-Abuse Scandal”, The Tablet, 10 April 2010, http://www.thetablet.co.uk/article/14543, pars. 12-16.
          [3] Not all of the Borgias were corrupt, by the way. Francis Borgia (1510-1572), great-grandson of Pope Alexander VI (Rodrigo Borgia), courageously avoided the choices of his relatives. Loving father and husband, he became a Jesuit priest after the death of his wife, renouncing his aristocratic titles and then turning down the title of Cardinal, opting for a life as an itinerant preacher. He was declared a saint in 20 June 1670 by Pope Clement X.
          [4] Giovanni Boccaccio, The Decameron [1348-58], trans. James Macmullen Rigg (Gloucester: Dodo Press, 2005), p. 37.

Community

2009-12-14T16:20:00.003Z

14.12.2009

The Church is a community made of clergy, laity, and members of religious orders and congregations. In the Vatican II dogmatic constitution on the Church, Lumen Gentium (“Light of Nations”), the Church is defined horizontally. It is simply the community of the faithful, of the baptised, who can be anyone. Its members merely play different parts and are called to fulfil various roles to continue the work of Jesus Christ on this planet we share. It has always been like this since the beginning with the Apostles and other followers of Christ. How about the Pope? The Pope is the Bishop of Rome, the successor of St. Peter. Rome played a primary role in the early Church, associated as it was with the martyrdom of St. Peter and St. Paul. The primacy of the Pope has been clarified over the centuries, but it was described from early on as primus inter pares (“first among equals”). The office of the Pope (and not this or that human being who occupies its chair and who may not be exemplary as Christians, as we all know), with the doctrinal responsibilities it involves, have had the power to bond the community. Its existence and its survival is obviously a sign of the unity of the Church.

Authority

2009-09-03T08:39:00.060+01:00

03.09.2009

Authority has to do with an ability — the ability to be carefully listened to, the ability to produce a discourse that is persuasive. Real authority is therefore not enforced but recognised. As a film scholar, I do not have to force you to accept my authority in my subject, I just hope that my painstaking scholarship and critical thinking persuade you. This example may seem petty when compared to God. My aim is to highlight the connection between “authority” and “author”. Catholics, like most Christians, think that the ultimate authority is God, because God is the author, the originator of all — “authority” comes from the Latin auctor, “originator, promoter”.
       Catholics acknowledge that the authority of God has to be transmitted and exercised through human organisation, otherwise the original essence, the truth, would be lost. The transmission of this authority is what we call tradition. Tradition is handed on and regenerated from generation to generation. It includes Scripture, whose New Testament was written within the Church, whose canon was decided within her as well, but also other writings, doctrines, forms of devotion and liturgy, stories and images. Tradition therefore has to do fundamentally with memory. The most important role of the Church is to preserve memory. Her authority is rooted in the past of our present, in the ground that we stand on, in that which allows us to realise who we are as believers. For me, the beauty and the splendour of Catholicism lie here.
       The overseeing of the preservation of tradition is the responsibility of the Church hierarchy, which stands in apostolic succession to the first followers and disciples of Jesus, the Apostles. Tradition and memory are the tradition and memory of a community. In contrast with some Christian churches and denominations, the Catholic Church is not a gathering of people who answer to a personal call. It is a community that you join or are born into.
       Tradition is not synonymous with conservatism. Revision, not conservatism, has been the historical norm of the Catholic Church. But revision is to seen as development not as contradiction. It begs for responsibility before something much greater than a group of people and so it demands caution and it takes time. Serious conflicts about the interpretation of tradition have been resolved in and by the Church Councils, meetings of bishops. The decisions of these councils along the most significant letters written by Popes and Bishops constitute the most significant documents of the Church and constitute the basis of canon law, the systematised rules that govern the Church.
       The decisions of Church Councils are, in principle, binding. (There is a difference between disciplinary decrees and doctrinal ones.)[1] Councils, when confirmed with the Pope’s signature, because they are communal, have more authority than the Pope alone. There was rivalry between Councils (and non-accepted Councils) and Popes (and Antipopes) throughout the history of the Church. Today, things are quieter. Councils can approve something that the Pope disagrees with, but they need his signature to make it formally binding. In other words, Councils are meant to foster union rather than division. Councils have to be convoked by the Pope, usually following the suggestion of a large number of Bishops. But the Pope is also part of the Councils. On the one hand, the Pope is the centre of the Catholic communion, on the other, he is a Bishop among Bishops. The most recent Council to be held was the well-known Vatican II (1962-65) that introduced changes in the liturgy of the Mass — namely the active participation of the laity (reading from the Bible, for example) and the use of vernacular (native languages) instead of Latin.

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[1] See my post “‘Catholic’” for the difference between discipline and doctrine.

“Catholic”

2009-08-27T15:25:00.040+01:00

27.08.2009

Catholicism is part of the Christian faith. Some people disagree with this statement, within the Catholic Church and outside of her. These groups are both extremist: the first say that if you are not part of the Church (“One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic”) you are not truly Christian; the second say that the Church is not really Christian but Pagan. The former people act against one of the most noble impulses of the contemporary Church: the charitable way in which she recognises a basic, common thread in other Christian denominations (and even in other religious traditions) to foster ecumenical dialogue. The latter people base their view on misunderstandings like the misapprehension of the Catholic devotion to Holy Mary as “the worship of Mary” (stated like this so as to indicate a rivalry between this veneration for the Saint of Saints and the worship of God). Both seem to know very little about the development of Christianity from the early fathers until today.
       The Catholic Church is not a monolithic institution. Unity does not mean uniformity. The Church is in fact an association of Churches (Latin and Eastern) who are linked, that is, who are in communion. This communion is actualised through the Bishop of Rome, the Pope.
       The Catholic Church is sometimes called, especially in English, the Roman Catholic Church. This is a term that is not very common in other languages and that is not commonly used by the Church herself. The word “Roman” does not suit the Eastern Churches that well. These sui iuris (literally, of one’s own right) Churches have a distinct history and a different discipline, but are part of the Catholic Church. Canon Law establishes that their connection with Rome differs from those of the Western Churches to preserve their particular culture and rites.
       Others feel that the Church has hijacked the word “Catholic” which means universal. To understand how important this word is in Christianity we need only to remind ourselves that the official name of the Orthodox Church is the Orthodox Catholic Church. Anglicans, who recite the Nicene Creed, firmly believe “in one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church” and they are not willing to let go of that third adjective. They should not. This is said to be one of the marks of the Church who Jesus Christ founded. The Church is one: it is united in the belief in the Lord, Jesus Christ (whether this unity is spiritual or institutional, invisible or visible, is open to debate). The Church is holy: it is sacred, set apart by and for God, because it springs from Christ and it is guided by him (this does not mean that the Church is perfect, for she is made of imperfect men and women capable of good and evil, but the Church as a sacred idea and body that we hold dear persists and resists). The Church is catholic: it is universal, open to all genders, classes, races, nationalities, and cultures. The Church is apostolic: its teachings come from the Apostles and were transmitted throughout history (additionally, the Orthodox and Catholic Churches claim Apostolic Succession, their succession of Bishops is historically traceable, without interruptions , to the original twelve Apostles). One way of looking at the landscape of Christianity is that the Church is divided but not separated. As a historical Church, the Catholic Church has a paramount role to play in this dialogue. Unfortunately, some branches of Christianity are antagonistic and stridently oppose specific Christian denominations. They concentrate on what separate us instead of on what unites us. They reject this brotherhood. And, in doing this, they sadden Christ, who said that “where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I in the midst of them” (Matt 18:20).
       The Catholic Church is the largest Christian church. It accounts for half of all Christians. It has communities and churches across the globe, particularly in places like Latin America that were colonised by Catholic powers. The head of the Church is not the Pope, but Christ, who directs and guides her. The Church is, in this sense, the mystical body of Christ (see Eph. 4:4-13). The Pope is the visible leader of the Church (hence the Vicar of Christ), who leads the College of Bishops.

Other Dogmas

2009-08-21T10:34:00.071+01:00

21.08.2009

There are other Catholic dogmas — specific Catholic dogmas.[1] One of them is transubstantiation, the conversion of the substance of the Eucharistic elements, bread and wine, into the body and blood of Christ at consecration. The historical Eastern Churches also believe in this becoming and call it a mystery of faith.
       Some Catholics think (or seem to be taught) that they have to accept all the teachings of the Church as if they were dogmas. This is not accurate. Not all the doctrine that the Magisterium, the teaching office of the Catholic Church, and the Pope teach is incontrovertibly true. Most of it is not. There is a hierarchy in the teachings: dogmas, doctrines, disciplines, and finally, devotions.
       All dogmatic teaching is by nature doctrinal, but not all doctrinal teaching is dogmatic. Papal encyclicals, for example, are doctrinal but not necessarily dogmatic. Doctrines may be different for different branches of the Church and may change over time. For instance, in 2006 Pope Benedict XVI declared, contrary to the 1500-year teaching on Limbo (the presumed abode of the souls of unbaptised infants and of the just who died before Christ’s coming), that there is reasonable hope that divine love leads these souls into Heaven, in which they will be eternally in the presence of God. Limbo remains a “theological hypothesis” for some.
       Disciplines are practices that the Magisterium defines. They are also altered. Otherwise we would still have the unrestricted and shameful sale of indulgences (the full or partial remission of temporal penance due for sins already forgiven) that was widespread during the later Middle Ages and that rightly infuriated Martin Luther.
       Devotions are prayers or religious observances that are continually updated and expanded. They are formally different even within the Church, namely in the 22 particular Eastern Churches sui iuris in full communion with the Pope.
       Papal infallibility is also a dogma of the Catholic Church. It was decreed by the First Vatican Council in 1869 with the decisive contribution of Pope Pius IX. It is a dogma that has no bearing on the Catholic religious life — as Garry Wills once said, a bit jocularly, but pointing out something true: no Catholic has ever prayed differently because of papal infallibility. The Church is an organic body that includes clerics and laypeople and the Pope is a figure that unites her as her visible head. The Pope cannot impose his own will on the Church. Infallibility is not a general characteristic of the Pope. Papal infallibility does not apply to what he usually says or writes. The Pope is not infallible, rather he can sometimes speak infallibly. This only happens under very precise circumstances:

when he is speaking formally ex cathedra (literally, from the chair),
when he is addressing all Catholics,
when he is defining and not just making a statement,
when he is defining something that has to do with faith or morals (and not, say, rituals).

It is no surprise then that the Pope only taught infallibly once, when Pius XII defined in 1950 the Assumption of Mary, the reception of the Virgin Mary into heaven, as an article of faith — in an apostolic constitution, the highest level of Papal decree. This is revealing. This definition merely made official an ingrained belief of the community, that is, of the Church. This belief is even shared by Anglicanism and especially by Eastern Orthodoxy, that calls it the Dormition of the Theotokos, the falling asleep of the Mother of God — even though it is not a dogma for them. To sum up, papal infallibility can be seen as a way of restating the unity that the Pope embodies and not as a means of stating his pure independence.
Like papal infallibility, the infallibility of the Church is the belief that the Holy Spirit will not allow her to make mistakes in beliefs or teachings — under certain circumstances. Only these rare teachings give rise to dogmas, revealed and established truths that the entire Catholic community holds. The other taught ideas or principles are not simply fallible, but rather non-infallible; which means that they should be analysed in detail and pondered over because they are always the product of careful consideration. This hierarchy of teachings makes clear how cautious the Church is — a caution that is not always acknowledged by Catholics eager to unreflectingly obey the Magisterium. Here is a summary of the conditions for the infallibility and non-infallibility of the teachings of the Ordinary and Extraordinary Magisterium:[2]

Ordinary Magisterium

Pope and bishops teaching while dispersed throughout the world.

Infallible: bishops teaching in harmony a truth that they say must be held definitively by all the faithful.

Non-infallible: all other instances of teaching on faith or morals.

Extraordinary Magisterium

Pope and bishops teaching when in council, or Pope defining and proclaiming a doctrine definitively.

Infallible: a council definitively proclaiming a truth, or Pope defining or proclaiming definitively a truth of faith or morals.

Non-infallible: all other instances of teaching on faith or morals.

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[1] For a complete list of Catholic dogmas, which have to be interpreted and complemented with other teachings, see Fr. John Loughnan, “Dogmas of the Catholic Church”, http://jloughnan.tripod.com/dogma.htm.
[2] Vincent Ferrer Gasser and James T. O’Connor, The Gift of Infallibility: The Official Relatio on Infallibility of Bishop Vincent Ferrer Gasser at Vatican Council I, 2nd edn. (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2008), p. 123.