Sacramental Life 28.4 (Advent 2016)

Sacramental Life

Volume 2 8 , No 4. ( Advent 2 01 6 ) " Living the E vangelical C ounsels"

About the Order of Saint Luke The Order of Saint Luke is an ecumenical religious order dedicated to sacramental and liturgical scholarship, education and practice. Founded in 1946 by members of the former Methodist Church, our moving and sustaining force is that vision of John and Charles Wesley, who sought to bring about a revival within the Church that was sacramental as well as evangelical.

Traditionally, religious orders are characterized by persons covenanting together to live in community — either physically or spiritually — under a common “rule” of spiritual discipline. Orders have also been formed to perform a specific task (or ‘work’) or to develop a discipline for spiritual growth.

The Order of Saint Luke was formed to bring about a recovery of the worship and sacramental practice which has sustained the Church since its formation in apostolic times. At the same time, we seek to help the Church rediscover the spiritual disciplines of the Wesleys as a means of perceiving and fulfilling the mission for which it was formed.

Membership in the Order is open to laypersons, seminarians, and clergy throughout Christendom. For further information about the Order write: Jeanette Block, OSL, Chancellor General The Order of Saint Luke 401 Provincetown Road Cape May, NJ 08204 Phone:(901) 683-5286 E-Mail: oslchancellor@gmail.com

Sacramental Life

Vol. XXVIII No. 4 (Advent 2016)

$7.00 / issue

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From the Editor's Desk

by Br. Jonathan Hehn

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2016 Convocation Keynote Address

by Sr. Joyce Ann Zimmerman, C.P.P.S.

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I. Introduction

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II. "Living the Evangelical Counsels: Or, Doing Liturgy with a Heart“

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III. "Saint Luke's Call to Live Community“

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IV. “Saint Luke's Invitation to Hospitality"

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V. "Saint Luke's Witness to Mercy"

Sacramental Life

From the Editor

by Jonathan Hehn, OSL

This special issue is devoted entirely to articles written by Sr. Joyce Ann Zimmerman, C.PP.S. Sr. Joyce is a Roman Catholic Sister of the Precious Blood, and the current president of the North American Academy of Liturgy (NAAL). The four main articles contained here were each delivered first as lectures – one for the 2016 meeting of NAAL in Houston, and three others as a series of keynote lectures for the 2016 Convocation of the Order of Saint Luke at Saint Paul of the Cross monastery in Pittsburgh. Drawing on more than fifty years' experience as a vowed religious individual, as well as a decades of teaching and writing about liturgy, Sr. Joyce has given both the Order and the wider Church a great gift in these articles. They are accessible, poignant, and rich with wisdom. They also offer much in the way of counsel and encouragement to the brothers and sisters in the Order of Saint Luke in particular, and so I commend them to my OSL siblings as a way to reflect on living our Rule of Life and Service.

This year we celebrate seventy years since the founding of the Order of Saint Luke, and also the five-hundredth year since Martin Luther famously posted his ninety-five theses at Wittenberg.

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The Order has changed much since its founding, and indeed even more so has the Church changed since Luther helped catalyze the Reformation. The issues of Sacramental Life in this coming year will thus reflect upon and celebrate those two great heritages. I hope you find opportunity to read them and to share them with others!

Finally, since we are now in the thick of Advent, I leave you with words from the great hymn, “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel,� as translated in 1851

by John Mason Neale. May it be a reminder that, even in our search for knowledge and wisdom, we often gain new insights about God, who is Wisdom herself, who indeed has come to us and will come again in time.

O come, O Wisdom from on high, who ordered all things mightily; to us the path of knowledge show and teach us in its ways to go.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Immanuel shall come to you, O Israel.

Jonathan Hehn, OSL, is a Presby-Lutheran musician and liturgist currently serving Good Shepherd Lutheran and Saint Leo University in Tampa Florida. He holds degrees in music from the Florida State University (BM, DM), and theology from the University of Notre Dame (MSM). A passionate practitioner, writer, thinker, you can find him on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram @JonathanHehn.

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2016 Convocation Keynote Address I. Introduction

by Sr. Joyce Ann Zimmerman, C.PP.S. “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them … ” (Matt 28:19; NRSV). “Do this in remembrance of me” (Luke 22:19). Can our imperative be clearer?

Sacramental living is not a choice for those of us who are followers of Christ—it is an imperative. Nor is sacramental living simply a "Nor it matter of celebrating a ritual—it is a special way of living, a spirituality. My four sacramental essays in this special issue of living simply a Sacramental Life are not about the ritual celebration way of of specific liturgies, but celebraiting a address theological and spiritual underpinnings for ritual. . . it is a good liturgical celebrations and Gospel living. spirituality" The first essay is a shortened, edited version of the vice-presidential keynote address I gave at the 2016 annual meeting of the North American Academy of Liturgy. It focuses on living the evangelical counsels of obedience, poverty, and chastity. “The humility of will of obedience, the spaciousness of heart of chastity, and the hospitality of self of poverty orient our whole being toward a loving relationship with God and each other.” If we do not grow 3

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in this loving relationship with God, we cannot grow in our commitment to sacramental living.

The next three essays are written summaries of three conferences I gave at the Order of St. Luke’s annual convocation at St. Paul of the Cross Retreat House in Pittsburgh on October 19 and 20, 2016.

They explore how community, hospitality, and mercy are also underpinnings for liturgical celebration and living.

Community rests in our baptismal identity of being the Body of Christ plunged into his dying and rising saving mystery. Hospitality rests in our being “at home” with prayer and silence which are essential elements of both liturgy and daily sacramental living. Mercy rests in God’s caring for us which spills out in our caring for others, ritualized in celebrations of the Eucharist.

These essays draw us into reflecting on being and relationships, life with God and life in community, Gospel living and joyful celebration. May all of us grow in our response to God’s gift of Self to us, celebrated in liturgy and taken into our everydays as a liturgy of life.

Joyce Ann Zimmerman, CPPS, is the director of the Institute for Liturgical Ministry in Dayton, Ohio, and is an adjunct professor of liturgy, liturgical consultant, and frequent facilitator of workshops. She is consultant to the Roman Catholic Committee on Divine Worship and has published numerous scholarly and pastoral liturgical works. She holds civil and pontifical doctorates of theology, and is the current President of the North American Acadmey of Liturgy.

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Cover art for this issue: Illuminated Armenian Gospel, Evangelist portrait of St. Luke by Aristakes, 1475, Walters Manuscript W.540, fol.

125v.jpg.

The work is in the public domain, and a high resolution version of this image may be found on Wikimedia Commons.

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II. "Living the Evangelical Counsels"

(Doing Liturgy with a Heart) 1

by Sr. Joyce Ann Zimmerman, C.PP.S.

If we wish to live a sacramental life, we cannot merely be do-ers of liturgy, we must be pray-ers of liturgy. Despite challenges with the how of worship 2 , we who are committed to doing good liturgy know that worship cannot remain something we simply go to, attend to, think about. Worship must define and reveal who we are. Our whole being must be oriented in praise and thanksgiving to the God whom we serve, bearing witness with awe and reverence to the nearness of God for all we meet, in all we do. We must be imbued with a spirituality grounded in worship and lived every day, a liturgical/sacramental spirituality that constantly brings us back to worship, brings us to hunger for worship, brings us to recognize that without worship our lives are askew. Living an authentic liturgical spirituality entails a lifelong journey in growth and relationships. Admittedly, living a liturgical spirituality is a lofty ideal. Liturgical spirituality is not something we finally achieve, but entails a lifelong journey in growth.

Fifty years ago I pronounced my vow of obedience, poverty, and chastity as a Roman Catholic Sister of the Precious Blood. Obedience, chastity, and poverty are evangelical counsels; they are Gospel guidance or directives that lead to a holy way of life for all who are baptized into Christ Jesus. They are counsels that, I believe, all of us must live well if we are to do Vol. XXVIII No. 4, Advent 2016

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liturgy with a heart. I believe that these three evangelical counsels are the condition for worshiping well and with integrity and truth. 3 They are the condition for giving authentic praise and thanksgiving to God. They are the condition for forming a habit of the heart that opens us to an intersection of liturgy and daily sacramental living.

Let us now turn to each of these counsels and, guided by Sacred Scripture, see how they are essential for "Obedience is growing in liturgical the core of spirituality and for doing liturgy with a heart. liturgical

OBEDIENCE

spirituality

It has always struck me that in my Congregation’s vow because it formula obedience comes keeps us open first. Rather than thinking this is so because it is the to hearing most important of the three God’s will in counsels or the most difficult to observe, I have our everyday come to understand that obedience is the bridge living" between the other two counsels that unifies the three as one single way of living an authentic liturgical spirituality.

Obedience enables us to live with a humility of will turned toward our loving God. Obedience, however, has less to do with keeping laws and rules as it has to do with furthering relationships. Looking to Sacred Scripture, we can easily find obedient servants of God who were utterly faithful to their covenantal relationship with God which, in turn, affected all other relationships.

Abraham: that great ancestor of three great 7

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faith traditions. His first act of obedience: “Now the LORD said to Abram, ‘Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you. ...’ So Abram went, as the LORD had told him ...” (Gen 12:1, 4; NRSV). God asked Abram to leave his roots, his culture, his very way of life to go to an unknown land, to a new way of life, to a new covenantal relationship with God. God changes Abram’s name to Abraham and Sarai’s name to Sarah (see Gen 17:5, 15).

A name change points to a new identity, a new mission.

Now rather than being the father and mother of a single family lineage, they will “be the ancestor[s] of a multitude of nations” (Gen 17:4). This is the covenant God makes with Abraham, a covenant that requires him to “walk before [God] and be blameless” (Gen 17:1). This act of obedience was more than simply trusting God’s word. Abraham’s obedience was bound up in hearing God’s word with humility of will—a will turned away from his own familiar ground, his own comfortable expectations, his own determination of how he was to live toward the God who is ever faithful to divine promises. Abraham’s obedience looked beyond what was then familiar to him to embrace the spaciousness and promise of the unknown. By his obedience Abraham began a covenantal relationship with God and his promised numerous descendants that shaped who he was and how he lived. His obedience was an expression of his covenantal spirituality.

Then there was a second act of obedience: God said to Abraham, “Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering ... So Abraham rose early in the morning ... and set out” (Gen 22:2, 3). It would seem that Abraham’s obedience would shatter the covenant, that the sacrifice of Isaac would leave Abraham with no descendants at all. It would seem that Vol. XXVIII No. 4, Advent 2016

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Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice even his beloved son would render the covenantal promise of posterity empty, fruitless. Still, Abraham obeyed. His obedience asked him to sacrifice even familial relationship. His obedience humbled Abraham even more: with the sacrifice of his only beloved son, he could only cling to this God who is inscrutable in demands but ever so faithful in strengthening the divine relationship with God’s beloved People.

Here is a heart-rending detail of this account: “Abraham took the wood of the burnt offering and laid it on his son Isaac” (Gen 22:6). No wonder Isaac was confused and questioned his father. With sacrifice Isaac is familiar. But it was beyond his imagination to know this sacrifice. He carried the very wood that would make him the “burnt offering” (Gen 22:6). For Abraham’s humility of will turned toward a God with an improbable demand of life that had been given as gift, Isaac is spared. Abraham’s obedience upheld the covenantal relationship in which we ourselves share even today.

Turning to the New Testament, we encounter another person of obedience who carried the wood of his own sacrifice. He, too, was a man with humility of will. His obedience challenges us to a new relationship with God: “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself . . . And being found in human form [he] became obedient to the point of death” (Phil 2:5-8). Jesus never swerved from doing his Father’s will. Even in the Garden of Gethsemane when Jesus prayed that his Father “remove this cup from me,” his prayer nonetheless continued with “not my will but yours be done” (Luke 22:42). Jesus struggled with an obedient and humble will. So much so, that “In his anguish he 9

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prayed more earnestly, and his sweat became like great drops of blood falling down on the ground” (Luke 22:44).

In his very struggle to say yes to faithfulness, Jesus’ lifeblood was already pouring out. Obedience is humility of will pouring out life for others as a sign of fidelity to a covenantal relationship.

Jesus’ saving ministry was about turning us toward an ever more faithful embrace of our covenantal relationship with God; his obedience was about drawing us ever more perfectly to the divine law of love; his life was about showing us how to “worship the Father in spirit and truth” (John 4:23). Jesus taught “Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth” (Matt 5:5). The meek are those who are willing to bend their will to embrace the divine will. Rather than weakness, this bending of will ushers in a relationship of strength—strength to live as God intends, with all the earth as our temple.

Obedience is essential for authentic worship because its surrender—one that turns us toward God and doing God’s will—is the same surrender needed for doing liturgy with a heart. Obedience is the core of liturgical spirituality because it keeps us open to hearing God’s will in our everyday living, a habit that enables us better to hear God’s word during the formal occasions of worship. One element of liturgy that Christian traditions share is the proclamation of Sacred Scripture to the gathered Body of Christ. Obedience as an evangelical counsel teaches us to hear that word, to appropriate that word, to live that word. We hear God’s word proclaimed at liturgy; we live God’s word on the altars of the world.

Ultimately, evangelical obedience is a listening to God that brings us to surrender ourselves—in liturgy, to the divine Presence; in daily living, to choices that align us with the righteousness of God. The surrender of obedience is a bridge that enables us to balance the Vol. XXVIII No. 4, Advent 2016

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loftiness of chastity and the earthiness of poverty. We turn next to chastity.

CHASTITY

Chastity enables us to live with a spaciousness of heart turned single-mindedly toward God and whole-heartedly toward ourselves and neighbor. Chastity has less to do with sexual activity as it has to do with the demand for us to love as God loves—mercifully, with forgiveness and compassion, with tenderness and care. My practice of celibacy is a directive of my Congregation’s constitution; my practice of chastity—as is everyone’s—is a response to the evangelical counsel to live with hospitality and integrity toward self and others. Chastity is marked by a receptivity to God, self, and others that celebrates the wonder and mystery of personhood, both divine and human. Chastity celebrates love that is both self-giving and receiving, love that is inclusive and expansive, love that is directed to seeking the fullness of goodness and life for both self and other.

If we interchange the word “chastity” for “purity” (how it is commonly taken in spiritual writings), the Hebrew categories of clean and unclean might come to mind. These states are not necessarily determined by a moral code, but rather they are determined by various human acts. The Book of Leviticus is filled with taboos that, if one transgresses, then one is unclean.

Transgression has to do with ritual purity and the right to belong, not necessarily with sin. In a state of ritual uncleanness, one cannot worship God with the community; in a state of ritual purity, one can join the community for worship.

If we sort the actions in Leviticus that make one ritually unclean, two large categories loom. One category has to do with sexual activity, the sex organs, and their emissions—acts associated with the beginning 11

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of life. Food taboos might be considered a subset of this first category because food sustains life. The other large category has to do with death and corpses (both animal and human), and has to do with the end of life. 4 Ritual purity is redolent of life, that most precious gift we have. Since it is God who is the author of both life and death, being in a state of ritual purity raises one to a kind of participation in divine activity, of belonging to God. Psalm 24 reminds us that those “who have clean hands and pure hearts” (v. 4) can “stand in [God’s] holy place” (v. 3), that is, can be with the community to worship God. Psalm 42 asks a pointed question: “When shall I come and behold the face of God?” (v. 2). Answer: those who are “pure in heart.”

One of the Beatitudes is “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God” (Matt 5:8)—they will be in God’s presence.

Ritual purity not only was the condition for “behold[ing] the face of God,” but it also was assurance of inclusion in the life of the community; being unclean removed one from communal worship, and in some cases removed one from the community itself, with its support and life-sustaining commerce. 5 We might say, then, that chastity has to do with belonging and well-being, both ingredients of a fulfilling life. Life is of the essence of chastity, as life is of the essence of worship. Both chastity and worship begin with life, enhance life, nourish life, and lead to fullness of life. Both chastity and worship are gifts as life itself is. Both chastity and worship have as their ultimate purpose communing with God and one another by self-giving love.

In the end, chastity or purity has to do with boundaries. 6 Living within proper boundaries bonds one to the life-sustaining community. Violating boundaries removes one from the community, and especially from liturgy. Violating boundaries is a violation of the sacred.

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Those in an unclean state could not worship because by their action they set themselves apart from the community, apart from what is holy, apart from what sustains life. It is not by accident that so many directives concerning what rendered one unclean are found in Leviticus, that same Book that includes the holiness code (see Lev 17-26). Chastity, cleanness, purity cannot be separated from holiness, from God’s very life and being.

Looking to Sacred Scripture, we can easily find chaste servants of God who were lovingly turned toward God, who lived within proper boundaries with integrity of self and regard for others who have inherent dignity. A particularly telling instance is the story of Susanna, where boundaries were violated and life threatened. 7 Susanna was the wife of wealthy Joachim who had a beautiful home with “a fine garden adjoining his house” (v. 4). Joachim frequently had visitors to his house “because he was the most honored of them all” (v.

4). Two elders regularly visited Joachim and subsequently became lustful for Susanna who used to “go into her husband’s garden to walk” (v. 8). So the two elders plotted for an opportune time to slake their lust.

One day Susanna went for her walk and “wished to bathe in the garden for it was a hot day” (v. 17). With lustful anticipation, the two elders hid themselves in the garden and when the maids shut the garden door—thus setting boundaries—and went off to get the things for Susanna’s bath, the two elders accosted Susanna with a choice: “lie with us. If you refuse we will testify against you that a young man was with you” (vv. 20-21). The two elders violated the boundaries of the garden and sought to violate the boundaries of Susanna’s person and virtue.

Susanna refused their advances; she chose the life of integrity and virtue over the sure death the elders’ condemnation would bring. The story ends with the prophet Daniel rescuing Susanna by separating the two 13

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elders and questioning them, proving that their accusation against Susanna was false by means of their conflicting answers. Susanna retained her integrity, her life. Conversely, the two elders, who did not respect boundaries, faced the dire consequences of their lack of integrity. Chastity concerns respecting boundaries that are life-giving, and avoiding overstepping boundaries that bring death.

Let’s turn our attention to love, an inseparable partner of chastity. The Old Testament shows God not so much as a vengeful God, but as a God of love. The prophet Hosea records these beautiful words of God in face of Israel’s infidelity: “Yet it was I who taught Ephraim to walk, I took them up in my arms; but they did not know that I healed them. I led them with cords of human kindness, with bands of love. I was to them like those who lift infants to their cheeks. I bent down to them and fed them” (Hos 11:3-4). This passage simply oozes divine tenderness! Another example of God’s great love: the Song of Solomon is an extended, metaphoric love poem between the divine Lover and the beloved People of God. God constantly speaks to us in many ways with these words: “How beautiful you are, my love, how very beautiful! . . . Come with me . . . How sweet is your love” (Song 4:1, 8, 10). Chastity does not limit love or love’s receptivity and response, but creates a capacity to seek persistently for the Beloved: “I will seek him whom my soul loves. . . . I found him whom my soul loves. I held him, and would not let him go” (Song 3:2, 4). Chastity overflowing from self-giving love unbinds the shackles of loss and loneliness and creates a spaciousness of heart turned toward the Beloved and all others.

Jesus redefined life and community boundaries and the spaciousness of love in terms of his own life, death, and resurrection. Jesus’ saving mission Vol. XXVIII No. 4, Advent 2016

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is one of love. From his spaciousness of heart, in love he reached out to touch the untouchable, to free those who were bound, to have mercy and compassion on all who came to him. Jesus’ love shows us what chastity is really all about: unbounded love that bursts forth life.

In Jesus’ farewell discourse at the Last Supper as recorded by John, he expresses his unbounded love: “I will not leave you orphaned ... those who love me will be loved by my Father, and I will love them and reveal myself to them” (John 14:18, 21). In the First Letter of John, we hear the bold statement: “Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God ... God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them” (1 John 4:7, 16). This holy, divine exchange of love between God and God’s beloved people is what we celebrate at liturgy. Worship is where we encounter God, love God, are transformed by God to be great lovers ourselves. Worship is where we celebrate divine presence in the community of the faithful. Chaste love raises us to the heights of divine encounter. Yet, to have the spaciousness of heart to be chaste, to have the capacity to love as God loves, we must give ourselves over to the self-emptying that is poverty of self.

POVERTY

We now turn our attention to the third evangelical counsel, poverty. As with the other two counsels, there is a literal sense: poverty can be a state of being poor, having nothing, being dependent upon others even for what minimally sustains life. Obviously, this is not a desirable state for anyone! Realistically, we need certain amounts of material goods to live. Another, spiritual sense of poverty8 has less to do with things and more to do with emptying ourselves to make room for what leads us to grow in who we are meant to be. Poverty is a kind of hospitality of self that equips us to be “at home” (a 15

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root meaning of hospitality) with the deepest riches we desire and with which God has blessed us: divine presence and life. Poverty shifts our focus from material things to spiritual things, from having to giving, from satiation to self-emptying for the sake of others.

Let’s learn a lesson about poverty from Job. Job possessed much: wife, progeny, animals, servants, friends. He “was the greatest of all the people of the (1:3). But for all his "Living poverty east” possessions, what really made Job great was that he exhibits a blameless and upright, hospitality of “was one who feared God and turned away from evil” (1:1, self" 8). The Book of Job relates how Satan challenges God, asserting that Job is faithful only because God protects him. God responds, “Very well, all that he has is in your power; only do not stretch out your hand against him . . . only spare his life” (1:12; 2:6). By Satan’s hand, Job loses children, possessions, wealth, health. Job deeply despairs, his wife and friends hardly comfort him but instead accuse him of some sin, Job prays for deliverance. Despite his great suffering, Job remains faithful to God, maintains his integrity, preserves his trust in God. Then God speaks to Job and reminds Job of all the mighty, divine deeds (chaps. 3841). Lastly, Job humbly acknowledges God’s power and wisdom, and prays for his friends whereupon God restores his fortunes beyond even what he had before Satan’s treachery.

No matter Job’s being dispossessed of his wealth, he remained rich in his faith in God. No matter Job’s deep despair at being emptied of everything, he looked to and trusted in God’s wisdom. Perhaps the greatest lesson Job can teach us is that by living the counsel of poverty we are committed to living a Vol. XXVIII No. 4, Advent 2016

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conviction about our utter dependence on God for everything we are and have. Having possessions does not make one rich nor assure well-being. Only fidelity to a loving God brings the riches of which one cannot be dispossessed. Being a community before God in worship, we are all, in a sense, stripped of our possessions and stand together as those poor and in need, utterly dependent upon God. We also stand together as those greatly blessed. God has always been a protector of the poor and needy, thus the confident prayer of the Psalmist: “As for me, I am poor and needy, but the Lord takes thought for me. You are my help and my deliverer; do not delay, O my God” (Ps 40:17; cf. Ps 70:5). The counsel of poverty enables us to come to worship empty of concern for things—necessary or not—and turn our attention toward the God who provides all blessings.

The prophets have much to say about the relationship between being poor and worship, “poor” here referring to those who are among the dispossessed and oppressed in society, largely due to the greed and social privilege of the wealthy and powerful. Simply put, sacrifices and offerings mean nothing if we care not for the plight of others. The prophet Amos sums up this thought forcefully: “I hate, I despise your festivals, and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies. Even though you offer me your burnt offerings and grain offerings, I will not accept them; ... but let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream” (Am 5:21-24). The prophet Micah says this a bit more gently: “With what shall I come before the LORD, and bow myself before God on high? Shall I come before him with burnt offerings ... what does the LORD require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?” (Mic 6:4-8).

Turning to the New Testament, Jesus came into this world under most inhospitable circumstances: 17

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born not at home but far away where “there was no place for them in the inn” (Luke 2:7); laid not in a warm, soft crib but in an animal manger; not heralded by loving relatives and friends but by scruffy, stranger shepherds.

Yet this poor Babe was the most hospitable of persons.

He “emptied himself” (Phil 2:7) and gave himself over to the leper and the lonely, the sick and those seeking, the prostitute and plotters, the sinful and the storm-ridden, the hungry and the homeless. He “emptied himself” to have the capacity to welcome all. His poverty opened up an “at-home-ness” with anyone and everyone—even those who betrayed, condemned, abandoned him. His poverty afforded a capacity to attract large crowds upon whom he had compassion, or an individual upon whom he showered unwavering attention. His poverty opened him to meet others where they were and as who they were. His poverty opened the door of forgiveness and reconciliation, mercy and compassion. These are all instances of worship, for in his regard for others Jesus glorified his heavenly Father. So it is with us. In our regard for others, we glorify God. Living poverty exhibits a hospitality of self that enlarges us to worship with a capacity to hear God’s word, to remember God’s salvation, to reach outside ourselves with a blessing for God’s goodness. This hospitality of self assures that we are “at home” with whomever we gather for liturgy. Poverty shifts our focus from ourselves to others in a way that together, as God’s beloved people, we are before God in all simplicity and humility. Poverty as a habit of the heart ensures that our worship is not self-referential, but is other centered: first, on God who is worthy of all honor and praise, and also on others who are created in God’s image and have an inherent dignity that brings forth from us the same care for them with which God has cared for us.

Hospitality of self draws us to make intercession for Vol. XXVIII No. 4, Advent 2016

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ourselves and others, not simply to receive what we need, but to express that we recognize our dependence upon God for everything. Indeed, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Matt 5:3).

Those who live poverty as a hospitality of self live in God’s reign. They live worship-filled lives.

CONCLUDING REMARKS

All three of these evangelical counsels point us away from ourselves and toward God. They focus our will, body, self first of all on God, and then spill over in our regard for self and others. Rather than three different paths for living, the three counsels each condition us to a single end: turning our will, body, self toward the God who creates and saves.

Obedience is the bridge between chastity and poverty. Obedience is the right relationship with God that lays down the fruitful, chaste boundaries for belonging to God and each other, and helps us grow as self-emptying, hospitable persons who welcome all others into a life-sustaining dialogue with God and each other.

This description of the early Christian community sums up well the relationship of obedience, chastity, and poverty: “All who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need. Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having the good will of all the people” (Acts 2:44-47; cf. Acts 4:32-35).

Obedience is the humility of will that lifts our chastity to a spaciousness of heart and our poverty to a hospitality of self. The surrender of obedience is a prerequisite for the receptivity of chastity and the selfemptying of poverty. Surrender, receptivity, and self19

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emptying are habits of the heart that lift our worship toward a God who guides us, loves us, and fills us with all that is necessary to come to fullness of life. The practice of these three evangelical counsels lifts us out of a human propensity for self-reference toward an othercenteredness that is a primary building block of liturgy.

While liturgy may at times and with certain elements rightly focus on us and our needs, essentially liturgy is other-centered: on God who is Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier and on the community with whom we come before God. Living the evangelical counsels is allimportant for doing liturgy with a heart and for living a liturgical spirituality. The humility of will of obedience, the spaciousness of heart of chastity, and the hospitality of self of poverty orient our whole being toward a loving relationship with God and each other. Doing liturgy with a heart means that we celebrate liturgy and live our everyday lives with the creative tension of kenosis of poverty and theosis9 of chastity, two poles of selfemptying and coming to glorification, bridged by the balance and clarity of faithfulness that obedience enables. Doing liturgy with a heart means that we surrender to God’s initiatives, are inclusive in all our relationships, and live what we celebrate. Doing liturgy with a heart means that God and others come before our own satisfaction and desires. Doing liturgy with a heart means that we love with all our will, all our body, all our self. Doing liturgy with a heart dismisses us from the celebration of liturgy to live liturgy with a heart. May we, by our embracing obedience, chastity, and poverty, offer to God heartfelt praise and thanksgiving, worship and reverence, honor and glory now and forever. Amen.

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2. I use “worship” and “liturgy” interchangeably throughout this article. Elsewhere, I have drawn a distinction. See my Worship with Gladness: Understanding Worship from the Heart (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2014) 1930, especially p. 22.

3. I noticed early on in our vow formula that the word “vow” is singular. In fact, I make only one vow, lived through three differing but complementary counsels. This suggests to me that these three evangelical counsels point to a single way of living which inscribes one way to look at a liturgical spirituality.

4. Most commentaries on cleanness and uncleanness in Leviticus make this point about these laws having to do with life and death.

For a representative commentary, see John L. Mckenzie, S.J., ”Clean, Unclean” in Dictionary of the Bible (New York: MacMillan Publishing Co., Inc., 1965), 142.

5. See Don C. Benjamin, O.Carm., “Clean/Unclean” in The Collegeville Pastoral Dictionary of Biblical Theology, ed. Carroll Stuhlmueller, et al. (Collegeville: The Liturgical Press, 1996), 146.

6. I’m expanding the notion of “boundaries” mentioned in the article by Timothy L. Lenchak on “Clean and Unclean” in Dictionary of the Bible , ed. David Noel Freedman, et al. (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2000), 263.

7. The story of Susanna is apocryphal material added to the Catholic redaction of the Book of the Prophet Daniel, Chapter 13.

8. It is this spiritual sense of poverty that German political theologian Johannes B. Metz develops in his Poverty of Spirit, trans. John Drury (Paramus NJ: Newman Press, 1968). This gem of a little work has greatly influenced my understanding and living of poverty.

9, For a good summary of the notion of theosis, especially as it relates to eschatology, see Gerard Austin, “ Theosis and Eschatology,” Liturgical Ministry 19 (Winter 2010): 1-8. See also the article in this issue of Sacramental Life , “St. Luke’s Call to Live Community,” where I discuss the paschal mystery.

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III. "Saint Luke's Call to Community"

by Sr. Joyce Ann Zimmerman, C.PP.S.

One of the first acts of Jesus when he began his public ministry was to call followers. Jesus wasn’t alone in his saving mission. He lived with a community of followers.

They were far more than even friends—they were taught Jesus’ vision, his hopes and dreams, his love and care for others; they were sent forth with his power to continue his mission; they shared in his promise of risen Life.

They journeyed with Jesus from Nazareth to Jerusalem, from obscurity to exaltation, from individual lives to a community of believers bonded together by an invitation to be more than they are individually. St. Luke’s gospel is structured as a journey and we walk this journey with him and his disciples each liturgical year. Season by season we focus on how Jesus lived and calls us to live today as his disciples. This community in the risen Christ is a shared identity with each other made possible by his continued presence to and within us. St. Luke portrays for us a Jesus who is merciful and forgiving, inclusive and inviting, prayerful and surrendering. We explore who we are together in Christ through three lenses: paschal mystery, baptism, and Body of Christ.

PASCHAL MYSTERY

The paschal mystery is a concept with which most of us are familiar. We know it has to do with the dying and rising mystery of Christ. We tend to begin with Christ.

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sacramental and daily life.

The Holy Trinity is surely a mystery, one difficult for us to grasp. What we can understand is that the three Persons of the Holy Trinity are in dynamic relationship with each other. The Holy Trinity is a community of persons related in perfect love, a love that is Life-giving in its Self-giving. The love of the three Persons is so intense that it could not be contained. So God creates our world, then God’s very imago Dei : we human beings. Initially the first humans were in perfect harmony with God. But then they were tempted and they became dissatisfied with all that God had given them.

They disrupted their relationship with God. They sinned.

And those after them sinned. God is ever faithful to God’s beloved people, but our sin marks us with infidelity. Prophets were sent to bring the people back to covenantal relationship, but still we choose infidelity.

So God, out of immense love, asks the divine Son to take on our human flesh and become one with us. 1 Out of the same immense love, the divine Son says yes.

The Son’s love-response is so complete that he emptied himself of his divinity to take on our humanity (see Phil 2:5-11). He became like us in everything—in obedience; in hard work; in frustrations and disappointments; in suffering; and, yes, even in death—everything, except sin. By so totally identifying with us humans, Jesus was able to open the door to a whole new relationship with God, a relationship that is so intimate that we can celebrate our unity in God and with each other.

Our own acceptance of Jesus and his Gospel message, our response to him, and our loving surrender to the paschal mystery begin in the baptismal ceremony and the identity in Christ that we receive, and continue throughout our entire life. As we grow in our identity as members of the Body of Christ, we become more like Christ. Our love-response is to lead us to cry, with St. 23

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Paul, “I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me” (Gal 2:19b, 20). Our identity with Christ is to be so complete that we pass through death (self-giving of ourselves for the good of others) with him, only to rise with him to new life.

Kenosis is the self-emptying (dying to self) necessary for us to conform ourselves to the selfemptying of the Son of God. Rather than a negative process, kenosis is positive in its thrust. For Christ, emptying himself of divinity opened the way for him to become fully human, to be one with us in all things except sin. For us, emptying ourselves of whatever in us is not of the image of God makes room for us to embrace the indwelling of the Spirit, makes room for us to receive the abundance of divine life God offers us as a freelygiven gift. Notice here the presence of the Trinity. This approach to the paschal mystery helps us see the three divine Persons all bound up with our kenosis: the Son models for us self-emptying by becoming human and thus invites our own self-emptying; the Spirit dwells within us as the Life-gift of the Father. As we open ourselves to God and embrace the Spirit’s indwelling, we are graced in such a way as to participate in divine life. It is impossible to speak of kenosis in this way without also speaking of theosis.

Theosis is the continual process of coming to be fully human, that is, regaining the image of God in which we are created and which we lost by the Fall. This is a very early concept in Christianity. The second letter of Peter reminds us that God’s “divine power has given us everything needed for life and godliness ... and may become participants of the divine nature” (1:3a, 4b, NRSV; other Scripture passages pointing us in this direction are 1 Cor 15:28; 2 Cor 8:9; Rom 8:29; Gal 2:1920; Heb 4:15; John 3:8; 10:34; 14:20; 17:21-24; 1 John Vol. XXVIII No. 4, Advent 2016

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3:2). In other words, theosis is the process of being taken up into God, of becoming divine. Those who are faithful to God are destined to an eternal life with God. Thinking of the paschal mystery as a dialectic of kenosis (dying to self) and theosis (rising to new life) has enormous ramifications for how we celebrate liturgy and how we live. Liturgy enacts the paschal mystery in its very structure; therefore, it is the privileged locus for kenosis and theosis. What we do in liturgy is a ritualization of what our whole Christian living is to be. The self-emptying and grace-Life-filling rhythm of liturgy is to be carried forward into the same rhythm of daily living. Since kenosis and theosis are relational at root, then all of our encounters with others are part of this great mystery of God’s desire to share divine life with us, to raise us up to be partakers of divinity. We enter into this paschal mystery dialectic through baptism, to which we now turn.

BAPTISM

It had rained—just enough to leave a few puddles here and there. I was looking out my window and noticed a car drive up and park. A mother got out and then opened a back passenger door and unbuckled her twoyear-old son, lifted him out of his car seat, and stood him by the car in the parking lot. Well, it didn’t take the little fellow but two seconds to spot a puddle, make a bee-line for it, and jump up and down in the puddle with glee at the splashing water. Would that we adults had such abandon! What attraction, water. What power. Ideally (at least) baptism would have the same attraction and power.

Baptism is hardly a once-and-for-all ritual event with the infant (or adult) being a passive recipient.

Baptism is an initiation into Christian life. We receive new life in the Spirit, becoming a child of God and a 25

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member of the Body of Christ. This new life begins a way of living—a direction for choices—that lasts our whole life. This means that baptism’s fruitfulness implies an ongoing yes on the part of the one who is baptized.

We enter into such a great Mystery that we spend our whole lives working out how we respond to it. We spend our whole lives on the road with Jesus from Nazareth to Jerusalem. We spend our whole lives in an allencompassing act of conversion in living the Gospel.

Essentially, our baptismal response is a constant yes to God’s will in our lives, a constant ratification of our identity as the Body of Christ, a growing into living the dying and rising mystery of Christ and our regeneration as children of God. Through our ongoing baptismal yes the saving mystery of Christ becomes a living mystery for us.

Instead of focusing on baptism getting rid of sin, we must move into a positive, life-giving understanding of this important sacrament. The ritual expression itself carries us beyond ourselves into the realm of the Spirit and shows us how life in the Spirit identifies who we are as baptized Christians. The prayers, symbols, and gestures of the baptismal rite invite participation by all who are present. This liturgy is a community experience. The rite demands our full participation. When the symbols and gestures are “maximized”—used to the fullest—the ritual event has the potential to convey a power unequaled by very many human experiences. When the person being baptized truly experiences the death-dealing and life-giving properties of water, hears the Trinitarian words, and does so being wrapped around by a community of believers, maybe then all of us will have the abandon and enthusiasm of that little fellow who made a bee-line for the water puddle. Maybe then all of us will have a deeper understanding that baptism isn’t something Vol. XXVIII No. 4, Advent 2016

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“done to us.” Instead, it is a rite celebrating our identity as graced children of God who walk in the light. Maybe then our yes will be even more true and ongoing.

BODY OF CHRIST

Baptism is a sacrament of identity. Through its waters and Trinitarian words we are plunged into Christ’s paschal mystery and raised up with him to new life.

Through Baptism we are made members of the Body of Christ. Through Baptism we become a community in one another through our common identity as Body of Christ.

So many today are seeking community in a world that emphasizes individualism, getting ahead at all costs, putting self first. Sometimes being together in “community” is more a convenience, more a matter of having others around to manipulate into fulfilling our desires and needs. This is not the kind of community into which we are baptized.

We might consider two kinds of community into which our Baptism initiates us. The first kind we might call a “social community.” Here, the words of the Acts of the Apostles echo: “There was not a needy person among them” (Acts 4:34).

In a social community there is "Baptism is a genuine regard for the care and sacrament wellbeing of others. Members of the community spend themselves of identity." for others both within the community and beyond it. Physical proximity is not a criterion for living community. Regard for others is. As wonderful as a generous social community might be, we must always keep it in perspective. An authentic social community is dependent upon another kind of community, a liturgical community.

A liturgical community binds us by common beliefs and worship, but even more importantly it binds 27

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us by our common identity as the Body of Christ. As a liturgical community our “one with,” our at-oneness is dependent not upon what we do to and with each other, but rather is dependent on the gift of identity God in Christ through the Holy Spirit gives us. It is God acting within and through us that strengthens our relational bonds to each other. It is God who calls us to pray liturgically which in turn strengthens us to be a caring and sharing community. All liturgical prayer is prayer of the whole church. Our deepest connectedness is because of and through liturgical prayer. Further, this liturgical connectedness grounded in our common identity as the Body of Christ leads to social community which is nothing less than concern for others.

Liturgical prayer shapes our habits, perceptions, and relationships. It frees us to grow in surprising and creative ways. We grow in surprising ways because liturgy offers us insights into self and others and prompts us to new ways of being together.

We grow in creative ways because liturgy opens up for us differing interpretations of Gospel living, sheds new light on life circumstances, calls us to greater fidelity to God’s way of being. Liturgy recreates us as richer members of the Body of Christ striving for deeper community.

END NOTES 1. Robert J. Daly, S.J. has developed a Trinitarian approach to Christian sacrifice. I am indebted to him and his Trinitarian theology for my Trinitarian approach to the paschal mystery. See his Sacrifice Unveiled: The True Meaning of Christian Sacrifice (New York: Continuum, 2009).

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IV. "Saint Luke's Invitation to Hospitality"

by Sr. Joyce Ann Zimmerman, C.PP.S

Living a meaningful and fruitful community life is not easy. It’s not easy in a family, among friends, in our nation and world, among vowed members of a religious order. Living a good community life involves much more than being physically together—even more than wishing each other well, being pleasant toward one another, doing for one another. Community life entails surrender.

It is dependent upon authentic hospitality, deep prayer, and a lived habit of silence.

HOSPITALITY

The quintessential gospel story about hospitality is the very familiar one of Martha and Mary (see Luke 10:3842). The context is a typical hostesses-guest situation.

Someone must entertain the guest; someone must cook and present the food. Anyone who has ever lived alone knows how this can be a tricky demand to balance: being attentive to guest at the same time preparing and serving the meal. There ought to be no problem in this story: Mary is entertaining Jesus, Martha is preparing the meal. All is well and fine, until Martha “was distracted by her many tasks” and approaches Jesus to tell Mary “to help me.” The issue here is distraction.

Martha could have kept her attention focused on Jesus even while going about “her many tasks.” Mary’s “better part” is more than listening to Jesus; it is focused attention on his presence.

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Hospitality is focused attention on the presence of another. The root word for “hospitality” (as well as host, hostess, hospital, hospice, hostel) is the Latin hospes, which translates as both stranger and guest. Hospitality means making the guest or stranger feel “at home.” To be “at home” means to belong, to be able to be oneself, to be comfortable with the surroundings and those within. The biblical mandate for hospitality rests in how God acts toward us. We are to be hospitable to each other because of God’s care for the stranger. When Israel was enslaved in Egypt and then led through the desert, God was the host who provided for them: “The alien [stranger, guest] who resides with you shall be to you as the citizen among you; you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt …” (Lev 19:34; see also Exod 22:21, Deut 10:19). We are to be “God-like” in our welcoming of others.

A habit of good hospitality cannot be a matter simply of welcoming others into our homes or worship events. Hospitality is a ministry; it is a turning toward others because of who we and who they are, and it is a welcoming “at home-ness” that breaks down any barriers of inequality. Hospitality begins with who we are, with our very being. It is an expression of our shared common identity as members of the Body of Christ: “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me” (Matt 25:40). In Christ, there truly is no stranger.

Hospitality that begins from our very being, from who we are in Christ expresses an openness and welcoming that witness to Christ’s love for us spilling out in love for others. Only by beginning with this kind of divine loving can hospitality’s “doing” be an attentiveness to, caring for, serving others that goes beyond mere task to a divine exchange of presence.

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Characteristics of a hospitable person are fairly easy to discern when the “doing” flows from the “being.” A hospitable person expresses in daily living a visible faith stance as a member of the Body of Christ exemplified in a joyful, happy disposition; shows genuine care and concern for others; is in touch with self and community; is hospitable in one’s personal life and is generous with home and belongings; is gracious and welcoming when greeting others; is inclusive of others without judgment; is quick to compliment and forgive; is at home in God’s house and forms a habit of prayer attentive to divine presence.

Authentic hospitality is a divine exchange of presence, and community is a fruit of hospitality when “at home-ness” together begins in our “at home-ness” with God. To the extent that we are at home with God, to that extent will we be able to extend hospitality to others. To be at home with God means to pray with ease and intentionality. We now turn to some thoughts on prayer.

PRAYER

For too many of us, the extent of our praying is saying prayers. We pray together when celebrating liturgy, we pray alone when time allows. Some of us over the years have managed to form a habit of prayer that may include Morning and Evening Prayer or favorite devotional prayers. The gospels frequently mention Jesus at prayer, but there are few instances of his actual words of prayer: the Lord’s Prayer (see Matt 6:9-13; Luke 11:2-4), his lengthy prayer for his disciples at the Last Supper (John 17), his prayer in Gethsemane (Matt 26: 39, 42; Mark 14:36; Luke 22:42), his words addressed to his Father from the cross (see Matt 27:46; Mark 15:34; Luke 23:46).

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disciples or crowds find him; he goes to deserted places; he goes to favorite prayer places.

When no words are recorded, we might surmise that Jesus is simply enjoying being in communion with his Father. He needs no words because he and his Father are one (see John 17:11). We might think of prayer as attentiveness to God’s presence, as being content with God’s presence, as basking in God’s presence. When young lovers, marriage partners, longtime friends are together, often there are no words.

None are needed. Simply being in the presence of the other is all that is desired. Such is it with prayer.

We might say that our prayer life is a good barometer for the health of our spiritual life as a whole.

As we grow in our spiritual lives and relationship with God, we might search for new ways of devotional praying that are more fulfilling for us. We might search for ways of praying that do not use words, but allow us to bask in divine presence, content with being near our God. Contemplative prayer, centering prayer, mystical prayer are such non-mediated (neither by words, gestures, symbols, or anything else) praying that focuses us on divine presence. We might create an internal sacred space that is our “home” with God where we can go at any time we need assurance, guidance, peace.

Prayer is not easy, but when we make the effort to bask in God’s presence it is so very rewarding.

The challenge for deepening our prayer is deepening our relationship with God. We must make God the very center of our lives, and strive to eliminate anything at all that temps us to deviate from our passion for God. This doesn’t mean that we withdraw from the world or from the relationships that bring us delight and wellbeing. It does mean that we transform how we live so that community is a reality—being one with God, being one with each other. Liturgical prayer where we so visibly 32

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express our relationship with God and each other forms us so that when we are alone we still seek God’s presence. Personal prayer where we form ourselves to be singularly attentive to God helps us to be attuned much more to each other and the work God is accomplishing in us through liturgical prayer. Liturgical prayer and personal prayer go hand in hand.

One help in becoming more focused on God’s presence is a practice of silence in our daily living.

When we have many distractions, are multi-tasking, are overly busy it is very difficult to focus on anything singularly. Silence is a starting point for authentic hospitality and fruitful prayer.

SILENCE

Most of us are entirely too busy, way over-scheduled, and try to do too much in too short a time. Let’s admit it: our lives are pretty frenetic. In all our busyness and lack of silence it is all too easy to lose sight of our clear goals and priorities. It is all too easy to begin to be slack about what is most important to us. This affects our relationships, our prayer life, our wellbeing. The challenge is to develop a habit of silence that feeds our hospitality and prayer, thus opening up the possibility for deepening our relationships—with each other and with God. When we think about silence, what tends to come to mind first is all the noise around us. And that is a good place to begin a practice of silence. 1 Some noise (we call it white noise) we have no control over, such as street traffic, the buzz of electric appliances and lights, various background sounds. We learn to tune all this out, and this is a good thing. Other noise we have control over. We can turn off the stereos and TVs, take the earbuds out of our ears, turn off our cell phones, remove ourselves to an empty room and close the door, put out a Vol. XXVIII No. 4, Advent 2016

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“do not disturb” sign. Some of this may seem inhospitable, but all of this actually allows us to be more hospitable, more attentive. Achieving “noiselessness” is more under our own control than moving into even deeper silence.

A second kind of silence we might strive to achieve is body stillness. Most of us are perpetual motion machines. We have all kinds of nervous habits that keep our bodies in a constant state of movement: we tap our feet, swing our legs, curl our hair, click a ballpoint pen, drum with our fingers on a table. While all this is harmless enough, "One help in when it comes to silence us from the kind becoming more itofkeeps rest, ease, and peace that are essential for focused on and prayer.

God’s presence hospitality When our bodies are in motion, the rest is a practice of constant of us is being pulled in directions. Lack of silence in our other body stillness keeps us daily living." from settling into anything with singleminded attentiveness.

As we go deeper into silence, the challenges become more difficult. A third kind of silence is mind stillness or single-mindedness. Even when we concentrate on a task, our minds often wander, other obligations weighing on us keep popping up, deadlines pop into our heads and leave us unnerved. Calming down our minds, training ourselves to put distractions at bay and focus is essential for hospitality and prayer.

Distractions are more than an inconvenience; they can affect the quality of who we are and how we are in relationship with God and each other.

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The fourth kind of silence is even more difficult to achieve, and that is “soul stillness.” This kind of silence allows our deepest, inner selves to be at ease and to focus and be drawn into presence. Soul stillness is, essentially, mystical. When we think of “mystics,” we usually think of the great ones such as St. Theresa of Avila or St. John of the Cross. We think of mysticism as a special gift from God for especially holy people. In fact, we are all called to mysticism by our God-given gift of communion with God through our baptism. Admittedly, most of us have very fleeting mystical moments that tend to be few and far between. But nonetheless they are still mystical moments. These are the times when we are so overwhelmingly aware of God’s presence and love that time stops, nothing else matters, we are aware of nothing else except that divine gift.

The practice of silence, at whatever level, offers us the possibility of unshakable peace. It helps us be more sensitive to noticing people and needs. It deepens our relationships like few other practices can. It takes time and strong will to form a habit of silence. A habit of silence enables us to hear with our whole being St. Paul’s admonition: “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstance; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you” (1 Thess 5:16-18). A habit of silence opens up for us new ways to be hospitable, new ways to pray, new ways to discover the richness and wonder of each of us. A habit of silence paves the way for renewed prayer, community, and sacramental living. And all this is a practice of hospitality.

END NOTES 1. For a lengthier discussion of silence and its relationship to

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V. "Saint Luke's Witness to Mercy"

by Sr. Joyce Ann Zimmerman, C.PP.S.

Luke’s gospel is filled with references to how we relate to one another, using many different metaphors. The disciples don’t seem to get it. One of the ways of relating they understand the least is that following Jesus is not about status, privilege, or power. It’s about self-giving.

All three Synoptic Gospels include the disciples’ arguing among themselves about who is the greatest (see Luke 9:46-48; Matt 18:1-5; Mark 9:33-37). Luke goes one step further and includes a second time the argument about greatest, this time in the context of the Last Supper (see Luke 22:24-30). To ask who is the greatest is surely to ask the wrong question. The real issue is not about being the greatest, but who serves others as Jesus modeled for them. They just didn’t get it.

Luke repeating the disciples’ argument in the context of the Lord’s Supper is very telling. At this Meal, when Jesus had just moments before given the disciples his very Body and Blood as heavenly Food, the disciples were not understanding at all Jesus’ act of selfgiving. Discipleship is about self-giving and about serving, not about being the greatest. This way of living is “so that you may eat and drink at my table in my kingdom, and you will sit on thrones judging the twelve tribes of Israel” (Luke 22:30). The paradox here is that when we spend our lives serving others, then we become the greatest as we enter the fullness of life.

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expectations about relationships, which is another way of instructing them (and us) about radical hospitality. We are not at home with each other when we insist on a hierarchy of relationships that diminishes the dignity of others. We are most at home with each other when our first impulse in relationships is to live for the good of the other, not for our own self-gain. The basic relationship we share is our common identity as members of the Body of Christ. Through Baptism we are plunged into Christ’s dying and rising mystery; we are plunged into kenosis and theosis, into lives characterized by self-emptying and receiving God’s gift of risen life. Our paschal identity demands of us radical hospitality—being at home with God and each other. The link between our paschal identity and living radical hospitality is mercy.

Sometimes Luke’s gospel is called the “Gospel of Mercy.” Mercy is the compassion, forgiveness, and acceptance of an offender. God is the paradigm of mercy. From creation onward we have offended and God has shown compassion and offered mercy. In spite of our infidelity and God’s utter fidelity, God still accepts us as God’s beloved people. So must we act with mercy toward one another. The Lord’s Supper is a sacrament of mercy where we celebrate Christ’s selfgiving mercy extended to us, and learn to imitate his compassion and forgiveness, growing into being more perfectly God’s beloved people of mercy.

THE LORD’S SUPPER

The Lord’s Supper is so much more than a ritual we celebrate. Its internal movement enacts the paschal mystery: the challenge of God’s living word proclaimed is a moment of kenosis; the gift of the risen Christ’s Body and Blood is a moment of theosis. To celebrate well the Lord’s Supper means that we are dismissed to live what we have celebrated; we are dismissed to live the paschal 37

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mystery. The Lord’s Supper is a sacrament of mercy shaping us to live mercy each day as we relate with one another. Perhaps no one has captured this in words more perfectly than St. Augustine: If you are to understand what it means to be the Body of Christ, hear what Paul has to say: “Now you are the body of Christ and individually members of it” (1 Cor 12:27). If you are the Body of Christ and members of it, then it is that mystery which is placed on the Lord’s table: you receive the mystery, which is to say the Body of Christ, your very self. You answer Amen to who you are and in the answer you embrace yourself. You hear Body of Christ and answer Amen. Be a member of Christ’s body, that your Amen will be true. 1

Augustine adroitly connects the mystery of Christ with what is required of us during the celebration of the Lord’s Supper: self-giving. We are to place ourselves on the Table of the Eucharist and be transformed. But Augustine reminds us that the transformation is not simply for our own satisfaction; if our Amen is to be true, we must live the self-giving. We must live as Jesus did.

We must spend ourselves for the good of others.

In the Christian tradition there have been many paradigms that help us understand the mystery we celebrate at the Lord’s Supper. Three in particular help us see how mercy is the link between our paschal identity and radical hospitality.

From its roots in the Last Supper, our celebrations of the Lord’s Supper have moved from a shared meal to a ritual meal. In the earliest celebrations, the Lord’s Supper was, literally, a shared meal. But it was not just any meal to which was added the blessing and sharing of the Bread and Wine. This meal was one in which the poor were fed right from the Eucharistic Table—a provocative act of mercy. Mercy was extended Vol. XXVIII No. 4, Advent 2016

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through the reconciling kiss of peace (see Matt 5:23-24); the wealthy and poor ate and drank equally from the same Table; boundaries of greatest and least were torn down in the very sharing. Growing numbers and other issues 2 made it impractical to continue the Lord’s Supper as an actual shared meal. Early on, when the Lord’s Supper became a ritual meal, the presentation of the gifts still included care for the poor. Time wore down this connection, and now we are challenged to make it once again an explicit part of our celebrations of Eucharist. Without the very shape of the meal including the challenge to care for others, the radical hospitality that is indispensable to a shared meal is lost. One cannot celebrate fully the Lord’s Supper without paying attention to radical hospitality.

A second paradigm for the Lord’s Supper is that of sacrifice. Historically, that is one of the thorny theological issues that has so concerned the Protestant Reformation theologians. We have moved quite beyond a too narrow understanding of sacrifice that was prevalent for both Catholics and Protestants for so many years.

Since the liturgical renew of the Second Vatican Council, we tend to emphasize a much broader notion of sacrifice not limited to Jesus’ self-giving on the Cross.

Etymologically, the word “sacrifice” comes from two Latin words which mean “to make sacred.” Thus, sacrifice has to do with becoming holy, another way of speaking of theosis. Jesus’ sacrifice began already with his self-giving at the Incarnation, continued through his public life and ministry to the Cross, through death, to risen Life. Our participation in the paschal mystery by our baptismal covenant calls forth from us the same selfgiving sacrifice throughout our lives. Like Jesus, we move from the self-giving of birth (Baptism) to the selfgiving of taking up daily our cross (see, for example, Luke 9:23). We embrace an unceasing self-giving which 39

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defines our Christian living. At the Lord’s Supper we unite ourselves with the memorial of the risen Christ’s self-giving and are thus equipped to live the paschal mystery more surely and deeply. 3 Our self-giving must become like that of Christ.

The third Eucharistic paradigm is that of covenant. God had made many covenants with God’s beloved people. Our baptismal covenant unites us in the one Body of Christ and identifies us with Christ in such a way that his life is our life. Our baptismal covenant calls from us a fidelity to Gospel living that makes visible Jesus’ ministry of mercy and forgiveness. Our faithfully living our baptismal covenant makes possible the promise of salvation to be fulfilled even now in this life and totally in eternal life. Covenanted-mercy equips us to bridge living a radically hospitable life expressed in shared meal spilling over into caring self-giving and a sacrificial life expressed by the paschal mystery.

All three paradigms—meal, sacrifice, covenant—and what they demand of us shape how we relate to each other. Eucharistic relationships based in meal-giving, sacrifice-giving, and covenant-relating model a liturgy of life that is sacramental at its core. Christian living is sacramental living is paschal mystery living. All sacramental celebrating and living is a memorial—a making present—of Jesus’ self-giving. The deepest mystery of Eucharist (and of Baptism) is the call to enter ever more deeply into the identity with which we have been graced by God. This identity is nothing less than being members of the Body of Christ on a journey through death to life.

A CELEBRATION OF GOD’S MERCY

Luke’s gospel is structured as Jesus’ journey from Nazareth to Jerusalem. We speak of our Christian life as a journey toward our eternal happiness. One tradition in Vol. XXVIII No. 4, Advent 2016

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Christianity (and other faiths as well) is that of making pilgrimages. A pilgrimage (journey) is very symbolic: as we physically move from one place to another, we symbolize our spiritual growth, our movement from one place to another. A pilgrimage can be a way to grow in holiness as well as a visible expression of our desire to move deeper into God’s presence. Physical movement is symbolic of spiritual transformation, our desire for conversion.

On December 8, 2015 Pope Francis declared an extraordinary jubilee year of mercy for the Catholic Church. The papal document announcing this is Misericordiae vultus, translated as “The face of mercy.”

This title is taken from the beginning of the document where Pope Francis calls Jesus the face of God’s mercy.

To speak of God’s “face” or countenance is a biblical way of referring to God’s presence. Seeing Jesus, then, is encountering the presence of the risen Christ among us, is encountering God’s merciful presence. Moreover, God’s merciful presence is a divine revelation of love.

The Hebrew word used to speak of God’s love is hesed. Really, hesed cannot be translated simply as love, but as love-mercy or divine loving-kindness. Just as God’s love is enduring, so is God’s mercy enduring.

Mercy is an encounter with the ever-faithful God, even when mercy is extended between two human beings.

Mercy is an expression of covenantal relationship.

The prophets of old were insistent that worship is empty if it does not spill over into goodness and kindness, mercy and forgiveness of others. The prophet Hosea reminds us that “I [God] desire steadfast love [ hesed] and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings” (Hos 6:6). Now this doesn’t mean that God does not want us to worship. It does say that hesed (divine love-mercy) and liturgy of life are so interconnected as to be one act. Doing for others is 41

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offering God praise and thanks, is liturgy. Self-giving is a liturgy of life that is a prerequisite for formal worship.

Otherwise, our liturgical prayer is empty. Mercy is a way of living, is Eucharistic living: self-giving, compassion, care, mercy, forgiveness.

Love is a much over-used word in our society. In the context of these remarks, a more God-like love is always an expression of surrendering ourselves for the good of others. We might define God-like love, hesed, as self-giving made visible. Ultimately living with God-like love, living hesed, living mercy is to embrace the kenosis and theosis of the paschal mystery. Then, and only then, can we say with utter simplicity of belief that “God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them” (1 John 4:16b). To that we all say Amen. May our Amen be true!

END NOTES 1. Sermon 272; my translation from the Latin.

2. Already in St. Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians we can see tension in how the community related to each other and how inequality remained a challenge; see 1 Cor 11:17-29.

3. “Memorial” here is not a simple recall of a past event, but a present celebration of that event in all its meaning and fruits.

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Sacramental Life General Writing Guide The purpose of Sacramental Life is to provide help for persons who have responsibility for the worship and sacramental life in the local church. We seek articles that are practical as well as being historically and theologically sound. Our readership is centered in, but not limited to, the Order of Saint Luke and the United Methodist Church.

Submissions to Sacramental Life are to be written according to the following general guidelines: 1. Articles are to address an issue that deals with some aspect of worship, liturgy, sacraments, or the spiritual life.

2. Sermons are not acceptable (unless specifically requested). Material first presented as a sermon should be rewritten.

3. Articles should be approximately 2000-3000 words in length.

4. The Editor has the right to edit all materials.

5. Manuscripts solicited by the editors are due 60 days from the date of acceptance by the writer.

6. Works cited should be incorporated in the article or in endnotes. A more complete style sheet will be given to the authors once a manuscript is accepted.

Submissions may be sent to: Br. Jonathan Hehn, OSL Managing Editor, Sacramental Life jonathan.hehn@saintleo.edu Vol. XXIX No. 3, Advent 2016

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Sacramental Life Review Writing Guide 1. Reviews should be approximately 500-700 words in length.

Please contact the editor if a review needs to be longer. We solicit reviews of recent books and films (2013 – present) pertaining to liturgics, spirituality, and homiletics.

2. The heading of the review shall include, in this order: Title Author Publisher City and year of publication ISBN Number of pages (e.g., xiv + 215 pages) Listed price, if available 3. The body of the review shall include: A brief summary of the major points of the book; statements of intended audience, strengths and weaknesses, and the personal reactions of the reviewer.

4. Paragraphs are not to be indented. A double space should appear between the heading and the first paragraph and between paragraphs.

5. The reviewer ’s name, position or occupation and other relevant personal information should be appended to the end of the article.

6. The editors of Sacramental Life reserve the right to edit all submitted manuscripts for length, grammar, form and spelling.

Reviews submitted may be included in other OSL publications, as appropriate, at the discretion of the editors.

7. Reviews may be sent via email to: Br. Daniel Doty, O.S.L. Book Review Editor, Sacramental Life Email attachments to: ddoty66@gmail.com Vol. XXIX No. 3, Advent 2016

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Directory

Order of Saint Luke Web Site

Includes purpose, history and activities of The Order, the publishing catalog and links to local chapters: http://www.Saint-Luke.net

Order of Saint Luke Office:

membership, subscriptions to periodicals address changes, inquiries: oslchancellor@gmail.com

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for inquiries: Books@Saint-Luke.net for online orders: http://www.oslpublications.com

Sacramental Life Editor

Jonathan Hehn, OSL jonathan.hehn@saintleo.edu

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Heather Josselyn-Cranson, OSL hjosselyn@hotmail.com

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