Being and not being a Christian?


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Cross of Christ

There are, gathered here on this blog, a wide variety of those who confess the name of Jesus as the name above all names; indeed, with our latest contributor, orthodoxgirl99, I think we now cover the whole Christian water-front, so to say. This is a joy, but can create problems. There at least one Catholic who used to comment here who who has refused to continue to do so because it has too ‘ecumenical’ a flavour. Our friend Bosco has written movingly of his own conversion experience, but, then rather spoils the effect by making insulting comments about ‘Cathols'; as a method of evangelisation, it leaves much to be desired. It may on may not be significant that the blog was founded by an Anglican, but that she, and the other two regular Anglican contributors have gone from here; my own view is that we have lost something by their absence.

But the very use of the words ‘Christian’ and ‘religion’ is anathema to some. Our long-time contributor and commentator, Bosco, seems to dislike both, asserting that all one needs to do it to knock on the door to be instantly saved. There is, it seems to me, some real spiritual danger in asserting this is the only way the Holy Spirit operates. In the first place, whilst the emotional intensity of that moment does last and deepen with some, there are those who, once the initial moment has passed, fall away. In the second place, it risks leaving those many Christians with whom the Spirit works in other ways, feeling as though they are somehow not ‘real’ followers of Jesus. Finally, it has a tendency to induce spiritual pride in some of the ‘saved’. To others it can, and often does, look as though the believer is saying they know they are saved and you aren’t. If there is a less helpful answer to the question ‘why isn’t God hearing me when I knock’ than ‘keep knocking’, I daresay someone knows it, but I am not sure anyone else wants to hear it.

How like the Corinthians we see in Paul’s first letter we are. Our various divisions (all historical) are stressed by us in contentious arguments – “I am of Cefas”, “I am of Luther”, “I am of the Spirit called” – and is this what Christ said? It was not Peter, nor Luther, nor ourself, whose blood redeems us all. Where there in envy, strife and division among us, we answer to Paul’s description of us as ‘carnal’ and as ‘acting like mere men’. There is no use a Catholic saying ‘you started it with your schism’, as I have heard Orthodox say the same thing. We all belong to Christ, who belongs to God. We are His servants, but do we act as though that were the case?

We know that the Spirit gives many gifts to the faithful, and it seems uncharitable and prideful to suppose that He does not appeal to each one of us according to those gifts. Perhaps those who are called to preaching and standing in harm’s way for the Gospel will respond better to the instantaneous call than those who are called to be teachers or stewards? Human diversity is one of the many gifts of God with which our selfish egos have a problem; but in diversity, Paul reminds the Corinthians, is unity in Christ.

This, surely, is why at this point in the first letter to the Corinthians, Paul gives vent to the great hymn of love, reminding them, and us, that whatever gift we have, nay, if we have all of them, and we lack love, then we are a ‘sounding brass or clanging cymbal’. Was anyone recognised as a follower of Jesus by their ability to beat down the other fellow in argument? Was anyone a good witness to the Crucified and Risen Lord by expressing his contempt for others? Faith and hope are splendid things, to have, but if we have not love for each other, what do we have? Some say that love for the brethren means only those who share your tradition, but it is hard to read the parables of the Prodigal Son and the Good Samaritan and extract that narrowness from them.

This seems to me a classic case of reading what we want into Scripture without taking its overall message of love into account. Paul is certainly not counselling the acceptance of immorality and sin among those who confessed Christ – quite the opposite, but as his comments about love and unity indicate, he was calling all who confess Christ’s name to renounce their carnality and to have unity in Christ. Our shared and divided histories make this hard for us, but it is our carnal natures which make it hardest, as it was for the Corinthians. If we truly put on the mind of Christ, and if we are truly mindful of Calvary and the empty tomb, then we do well to recall what Paul says about conduct which makes the weaker brethren stumble.

None of that is a call for some kind of syncretism. All the traditions of which I have been part have added hugely to my life as a Christian, and I should be much the poorer without what Anglicanism, Orthodoxy and Catholicism give me, and as one who has a much-loved son who is an Evangelical pastor, and another beloved son whose faith is of the same hue, I benefit greatly from that too. One advantage of having moved from one church to another is that it removes the fear and the misconceptions others have about them, without replacing those things with rose-tinted spectacles. If we are truly all of Christ, then we might bear in mind the words of St John which Jessica put on the masthead of this blog: ‘A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you … John 13:34′




Veiling, a disappearing reverence


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Go to any Roman Catholic, Anglo Catholic or Orthodox Mass today and the chances are you will see very few women wearing any kind of head covering, let alone the mantilla or chapel veil. It would seem this ancient and reverent custom is now so counter-cultural and viewed by some as discriminatory, that it has fallen well and truly off the sacramental radar.

Over the centuries women have worn mantillas when going to Mass, when in the presence of the Blessed Sacrament and when meeting his Holiness, the Pope. Wearing a mantilla or chapel veil has been a common practice amongst faithful women across the churches, with this custom most commonly practiced in the Eastern Orthodox and Roman Catholic churches. Traditonally married women or widows wore black veils, while white veils were worn by young girls or unmarried women.

The practice of women covering their heads when in the presence of God has been well documented since the time of the early Christians. For centuries women followed this custom as a sign of humility and reverence but often also to imitate the Blessed Virgin Mary, who is always portrayed with a veil and is the archetype of purity and humility. Historically, a woman’s long hair was considered to be a thing of beauty and so by covering her head, the woman was seen to be covering her own beauty, so that the true glory may be given to God instead.

Women were also viewed as being a life-giving vessel with Our Blessed Lady being the most precious vessel of all, the one in which Jesus Christ was carried. In the same way, the chalice holding the blood of Christ, the very essence of Life, is veiled until the Preparation of the Gifts, and the tabernacle veiled between Masses. Unfortunately with the decline in religious teaching of any kind, understanding of this symbolism is completely lost on most people.

Before Vatican 11 women in the Catholic church were required to veil when attending Mass as a symbol of their modesty and humility before God.    Latterly, the practice of veiling has declined as has wearing a hat or even a scarf. It would seem in the 21st century that head wear of any description has finally been thrown out as ‘old hat,’ and as it no longer forms part of canon law, is not really encouraged. Consequently as the practice of veiling has become redundant, most people have little understanding of it and therefore no interest.

Ask your average church-goer why women used to wear mantillas and you will generally be met with blank faces. It is also likely that people (more so perhaps in the Protestant churches) would not even know what a mantilla or chapel veil was, let alone what one looked like.   Of those that do, some may view it as a discriminatory practice left over from the ancient church as a symbol of woman’s subservience to male ‘headship’. The progressive, modernist agenda has so muddied and influenced Christian practices that I would guess liberal christian women today would regard this practice as ‘repressive’ and a throw-back to misogynistic practices.

In St Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians (11:1-16) he declares that we must cover our heads because it is Sacred Tradition commanded by our Lord himself and entrusted to Paul. Sadly with the pressure of modern society and its secular values, many people have dropped what was once a beautiful and reverent custom and as many churches too have yielded to modern thinking, there is no longer a requirement to wear any type of head covering.

Yet I would say to those who still think that the veil is an outdated custom, remember that: “Jesus Christ is the same, yesterday and today, yes, and forever” (Heb. 13:8) Showing reverence and humility in the presence of God is not a practice applicable only to a particular period in time. It is for eternity, because He is the Alpha and the Omega – infinite.

So why do I veil? Well certainly not to make any kind of fashion statement as veiling today is probably considered completely ‘uncool’. I veil because I am in the presence of Almighty God, my Creator, my source of Life and my soul’s delight.   I veil as an external manifestation of my belief that Christ is truly present in the Eucharist and I wish to show love, reverence and humility in his Holy presence. I veil because like the Angels I feel I should cover myself in the presence of the Holy One. I veil because I love Our Lord. I veil simply because I feel it matters.

you can find out more about orthodoxgirl99 on our About page here


To Relate


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always-love-and-respectIn reading our discussions lately, it  has struck me that sometimes we conflate words to get to places we didn’t really mean to go.

We have discussed much how the church relates to the congregant. Webster’s defines relate this way.

: to show or make a connection between (two or more things)

: to understand and like or have sympathy for someone or something

: to tell (something, such as a story)

For our purposes though, I think the definition from the medical dictionary is perhaps more useful:

: to have meaningful social relationships : interact realistically <an inability to relate emotionally to others—Willow Lawson>

In many ways, when we look for a church, that’s what we are looking for, isn’t it? A place that will try to understand “where we are coming from”. And not this: if we are coming from, it’s likely that we are not satisfied with where we are, so we’re unlikely to be looking simply for validation that we’ve been perfect, are we?

So we’re not merely looking for validation that we’re doing everything right, we’re most likely looking for something better. Perhaps an example, perhaps someone to follow.

People are unchurched for many reasons, some have never been told anything about Christianity, some have come away from a lukewarm experience that left them unsatisfied, there are as many reasons as there are the unchurched.

It is our mission to listen to them, to help them to understand the Good News and help them make the journey to Christ. Note that i am not saying (nor have I ever) that we should compromise our beliefs (or our churches’) but we should, nay we must, listen to them carefully to understand what is troubling them.

No doubt if we are active in this, we will hear all manner of folly, and things that we know are nonsense. That doesn’t matter. What matters is that they learn that we care about them and will listen to them. If we don’t have that relationship, and that trust, we will be ineffective, not least because we will never understand why they are looking for something,.

But once they have learned that we can be trusted, and trusted not to denigrate them for what they say, we can begin to lead them to the Cross. Without that, we will simply drive them away, at least in my experience, from both sides.

Earlier, I said I think we sometimes conflate words. The phrase I had in mind is moral relativism. The Basics of Philosophy tells us:

Moral Relativism (or Ethical Relativism) is the position that moral or ethical propositions do not reflect objective and/oruniversal moral truths, but instead make claims relative to social, cultural, historical or personal circumstances. It does notdeny outright the truth-value or justification of moral statements (as some forms of Moral Anti-Realism do), but affirms relative forms of them. It may be described by the common aphorism: “When in Rome, do as the Romans do”.

Moral Relativists point out that humans are not omniscient, and history is replete with examples of individuals and societies acting in the name of an infallible truth later demonstrated to be more than fallible, so we should be very wary of basing important ethical decisions on a supposed absolute claim. Absolutes also tend to inhibit experimentation and foreclose possible fields of inquiry which might lead to progress in many fields, as well as stifling the human spirit and quest for meaning. In addition, the short term proves itself vastly superior in the ethical decision-making process than the relatively unknown long-term.

Relativistic positions may specifically see moral values as applicable only within certain cultural boundaries (Cultural Relativism) or in the context of individual preferences (Ethical Subjectivism). A related but slightly different concept is that ofMoral Pluralism (or Value Pluralism), the idea that there are several values which may be equally correct and fundamental, and yet in conflict with each other (e.g. the moral life of a nun is incompatible with that of a mother, yet there is no purely rationalmeasure of which is preferable).

An extreme relativist position might suggest that judging the moral or ethical judgments or acts of another person or group has no meaning at all, though most relativists propound a more limited version of the theory. Some philosophers maintain that Moral Relativism dissolves into Emotivism (the non-cognitivist theory espoused by many Logical Positivists, which holds that ethical sentences serve merely to express emotions and personal attitudes) or Moral Nihilism (the theory that, although ethical sentences do represent objective values, they are in fact false).

Moral Relativism generally stands in contrast to Moral Absolutism, Moral Universalism and to all types of Moral Realism, which maintain the existence of invariant moral facts that can be known and judged, whether through some process of verification or through intuition.

There’s quite a lot more, as I’m sure you are aware, and it’s interesting, especially the history. But since we are Christians, we can’t really go there, in my opinion, without abrogating our faith. Christ taught us that there is objectively right, and wrong, in all times and all places.

Yes, things change. Christ was not pressing for the abolition of human slavery, but Christianity was the driving force in its abolition in the west. Nor did He agitate for the equality of women but we have come to see that as a Christian value.

In other words he taught us the basics, and we have taken the ball and advanced it, with due regard for tradition, we have come to see that the dignity of the individual human being is paramount, and that human rights (as we perceive them) are an objectively good (and ethical) thing.

But to come back to where we began, it is not our role to judge others, God will take care of that in His own good time. And in truth, as I get older, I have less and less desire to judge others. More and more I realize that everybody’s experience is different and I’m simply not qualified.

What our mission is once we have a person’s trust is to teach him what God says and does, and give him the tools to judge himself. This is the role of confession. And then God will participate with forgiveness and mercy.

A reminder for all of us though, although our churches don’t seem to stress it as much as they used to, Christ ended almost all of his lessons with this, in one form or another:

Go and sin no more

That’s key!


st-georgeAnd since today is 23 April, I thought I would add a reminder that it is the Feast Day of St. George. He’s a busy guy, he’s the patron saint of Bulgaria, Ethiopia, Georgia, Greece, Portugal and Russia, but above all in our minds: England.

Sir Winston Churchill said:

There is a forgotten -nay almost forbidden word,
. . . . a word which means more to me than any other. . . .
That word is

Seems to me he’s wasn’t far wrong. We hear much of Great Britain, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland, and even of the former Empires: America, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, Singapore, and even India, but we hear little of the source of the glory: England. For without the driving force of English ideas, our world would simply not exist.

The Late Rt Hon Enoch Powell MBE, once said at a St. George’s Day speech.

There was a saying, not heard today so often as formerly . .

“What do they know of England who only England know?”

It is a saying which dates. It has a period aroma, like Kipling’s “Recessional” or the state rooms at Osborne. That phase is ended, so plainly ended, that even the generation born at its zenith, for whom the realisation is the hardest, no longer deceive themselves as to the fact. That power and that glory have vanished, as surely, if not as tracelessly, as the imperial fleet from the waters of Spithead.

And yet England is not as Nineveh and Tyre, nor as Rome, nor as Spain. Herodotus relates how the Athenians, returning to their city after it had been sacked and burnt by Xerxes and the Persian army, were astonished to find, alive and flourishing in the blackened ruins, the sacred olive tree, the native symbol of their country.

So we today, at the heart of a vanished empire, amid the fragments of demolished glory, seem to find, like one of her own oak trees, standing and growing, the sap still rising from her ancient roots to meet the spring, England herself.

Happy St. George’s Day to the cousins!


How do we deal with revelation?



Bible and tradition

The issues raised in yesterday’s post about change are even clearer if we frame them in the longer term – not least if, following the Catholic Lectionary, we read them in the light of the Acts of the Apostles. Those who wish to refer everything to the Bible for adjudication, are not only really appealing to their own interpretation of it, they are not behaving like members of the early Church, who possessed no such book. The early Christians possessed the Jewish Scriptures, and to those were added letters from Paul of Tarsus, followed by the various Gospels, Catholic epistles and the Apocalypse. These were part of the unfolding revelation of God’s message to us. As Paul told the Thessalonians, it was what was passed on orally and in writing which was to guide them. It would be naive in the extreme to suppose that the only writing which occurred was what is in what the Church called ‘the New Testament’. That was the final stage of the written form of revelation.

Newman was correct in noting that for there to be the sort of unfolding revelation we see in oral and written tradition there had to be an authority which pronounced on it. We know that by the second century there were various other ‘gospels’ and ‘act of the apostles’ in circulation, some of them very popular and widely read such as Paul and Thecla, which recounted the exciting further adventures of St Paul. It still makes for a good read, and it is not surprising it was in wide circulation, as were the ‘Acts of Andrew, Peter and John’. On the other hand, St John’s epistles had a very small circulation, limited, geographically, to parts of the east; Peter’s first epistle had a limited one in the west, whilst his second one was hardly known in the East; the west never received the Apocalypse early on, and St Jerome himself was at a loss what to do with Hebrews, which he knew was not by St Paul.

The picture has been needless obscured by the nonsense of Dan Brown, which mistakenly attributes the Canon to Constantine the Great. Long before then the Churches had identified most of the books now in the New Testament, and in the cases of disputed books such as the Johannine and Petrine epistles, and Hebrews, the verdict of men like St Athanasius that these books had been received as genuinely Apostolic, was accepted. Without the existence of a teaching authority there would have been chaos, as men would have argued to and fro about the books they had received, rejecting the ones they had not. But Jesus had not left the Church without a teaching authority. The successors of the Apostles were able to verify what was and was not genuine revelation; the idea that their successors cannot do so in matters of faith and morals seems a dangerous novelty, needed by those who are not within the Catholic fold, but unnecessary for Catholics (and Orthodox).

The wider point here is clear. There is a teaching authority, there always has been, it has often worked messily in terms of it taking time to agree, but it has worked surely. If God had wished the Church to be a museum tending a script from generation to generation, He would surely have said so, dictated the script (as Muslims hold to be the case), and made it clear that that was that. Instead, He proceeded as just described. We can know these things only by some authority. Some say it comes from the Spirit operating within them, but how are the rest of us to test that when there are so many different versions of what the Spirit is saying? Some of us stick with a tried and trusted method.

Dealing with change


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JHN change

To be against change is like being English and objecting to the varied weather one gets in a day – natural but somewhat pointless; it will happen any way. How does a Church which founded on the revelation of the Good News of Jesus deal with that process? Newman wrote that if there was a revelation, as we believe there has been, there would be a teaching authority to pronounce on it. Catholics believe that Christ provided just that authority in the form of His Church which is the foundation and pillar of the truth. That Magisterium pronounces of truth and error in matters of faith and morals, and is protected from error by the guidance of the Holy Spirit. So, although as someone commented to me the other day “Catholics seem to disagree a great deal”, as I replied, “that does not mean the Church disagrees”. That does not mean there is not and cannot be disagreement, but it does mean that once the Church pronounces, the matter is closed – until, as may need to be the case, it reopens in another way at another time. We are not closed to the promptings of the Spirit – we simply do not think He is forever agitating us, and we refuse to identify Him with the spirit of any one age.

Although it has not always been so in practice, in theory this ought to allow a greater degree of discussion and debate within the Church. The possession of an authoritative teaching Magisterium ought to mean that the faithful can engage in discussion and debate freely – as long as they are prepared to accept that the umpire’s verdict is final. Being composed of sinners, this tends not to happen as much as it ought. But without it, without the ability to debate and discuss, the Church would risk ossifying. In my own limited experience of Orthodoxy, the absence of an authoritative Magisterium inhibited debate in a Church which was attached to tradition; that did not mean there was none, it meant that there was a good deal of hesitation about the process and a tendency to attach oneself to a part of tradition as a way of justifying some new development; the very idea of a new development tended to produce fits of the vapours in some quarters, as it does in our own Church.

Things change, and we change with them. However much anyone wishes to claim for himself a conservative position, no-one whose consciousness was formed in the twentieth century West can fully possess the mindset of someone born in twelfth century Venice; no one can step into the same river twice. So even in a Church (rightly) attached to Tradition, fresh minds in new contexts approach things in ways which those in the past would not have done, because they could not have done. One of the great virtues of the Church is that she gives great weight to the wisdom of our ancestors, especially the Church Fathers and the Councils, but she is not hidebound by them, or by one time-bound view of part of their great oeuvre. Her theologians range far and wide through the immense gifts bequeathed us by the past, and the Magisterium gives it the weight always needed to ensure that mankind’s tendency to favour the novel is countered. That is not to say it gets it right all the time in every generation But it is to say that because the mind of the Church thinks in centuries rather than decades, it has the confidence to know that it will get the balance correct across time – and that in the meantime, no error in faith or morals will be taught to the detriment of the souls of the faithful.

How can we be sure of that last? Well, if we believe that the gates of hell shall not prevail against Christ’s Church, we do so through faith. If we want human guarantees we shall get none, for we are not, here, dealing with the principalities and powers of this world, but with a promise made by God. If we cannot bring ourselves to believe that promise, we should pray for more help – for there is no other reliable source.

Problems with authority


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It is characteristic of our society in the West, and symptomatic of what is wrong with it that a group of ‘prominent Catholics’ in San Francisco should have taken out an expensive advertisement in a newspaper to criticise their Archbishop for reiterating Catholic teaching. Even the inimitable satirist, Bruvver Eccles, had trouble making an extremely funny post as weird as the original. The Archbishop’s reiteration of Catholic teaching on matters such as same-sex marriage and women and the ministry seems to have upset a set of wealthy Californians who, having funded pro-abortion candidates for years unhindered by the diocese, have clearly decided it is time that the Pope wised up and listened to the ‘prominent people’ of the diocese rather than all that old stuff the Church has taught from the beginning.

It would be tempting to respond in kind and call for them to be disciplined, but, of course, so wide are they of the mark about the Church that that will not happened, and many less prominent people will be upset that it has not; how, they will wonder, can people do this sort of thing with no consequences? The consequences are there and will be for them until they repent. The Church does not need to follow the example of outraged liberals who cannot bear to hear any view other than their own in the public sphere. It teaches the truth, its people need to hear more of that, some of us think, but even if every ‘prominent person’ in the entire world said that the teaching of the Church was wrong, it would prove nothing we don’t already know, and it would change nothing: fallen mankind seeks to place its wisdom in front of God’s, and that is as destructive now as when our first parents listened to the serpent.

It may well be that many badly-catechised cradle Catholics do not understand the teachings of the Church, and are correspondingly outraged when they realise that they do not support the secular ‘wisdom’ of the age. It is, no doubt, kind of them to offer their poorly-formed consciences as guides to the successor of St Peter, but they might be better off finding a church which agrees with them in the first place; there are, after all, enough to choose from.

Authority in the Church inheres in the Magisterium. The Pope, as head of the College of Bishops and successor of St Peter, ‘possesses supreme, full, immediate, and universal ordinary power in the Church’. When the College of Bishops is united with the Popes, then their pronouncements, even if not declared to be so, have the force of infallibility (CCC 891); without the Pope, the College’s pronouncements have no authority (CCC 883). Their first job is to preach the Gospel of Christ to all men (CCC 888) and if the ‘prominent people’ of San Francisco reject that, it is no surprise – the rich and powerful have always had more trouble with repentance than the poor and lowly, although all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.

What the Pope and Bishops say when united commands ‘religious assent’ from the faithful (CCC 892), and if the latter cannot agree with it, then they should seek the Sacrament of reconciliation and they should pray, because they have sworn to believe all that the Church teaches. This is hard in our society, perhaps harder than ever before as the relativistic spirit of an age of zero deference to authority nowhere prepares our stubborn and sinful natures for obedience. But that is a cross we have to carry, and if it is the only way of breaking our hearts, which are hard as stone, to receive the Word of the Lord, then so be it.

The ‘prominent Catholics’ of San Francisco would benefit from less time proclaiming their position, and more time in prayer and study of the faith once received.


Note: This is NOT a post on the Catholic and Orthodox use of images.

“Image is everything.”

In the modern world we are constantly bombarded with images: websites, television, films, billboards, buses, magazines, etc. Privileging sight over other senses and faculties is natural in our Western world-system: we do it without thinking about it. Of course, our politically-correct education system tries hard to instil the principle that we should not be superficial, that we should not judge by appearances, but this fails to destroy the lust of the eyes that every shrewd advertising operative seeks to exploit.

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‘Our salvation is nearer': a reflection on Romans (1)


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Paul exhorts us to Christ’s commandment of love, telling the Romans:

And that, knowing the time, that now it is high time to awaken out of sleep; for now is our salvation nearer than when we first believed.

He tells us that the Gospel is:

the power of God unto salvation to every one who believeth, to the Jew first and also to the Greek

In his second letter to the Corinthians, Paul tells them that ‘we are to God the fragrance of Christ among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing.’

But if we are saved by our faith in Christ when we received him, how can be become ‘nearer salvation’? We get some idea if we look at verse 17 where we are told that the ‘just live by faith’. If we are to understand Paul, and how salvation is not a one off act, we need to grasp the difference he makes later in Romans between justification (Gk: dikiosis) and faith (Gk: pistis). We are justified by Christ’s righteousness. That puts us right with God, our sins are forgiven by God. Faith in Christ is the channel of our salvation – and by salvation Paul means being freed from the wrath of God. And make no mistake, mankind lies under that wrath. If we doubt it, we only need to see how closely what Paul says about the Jews and the Gentiles applies to our society.

How easy we find it to do as the Jews of old did, which is to confuse righteousness with a strict adherence to the Law, and to do as they did, which is to add endlessly to it is ensure that no one should inadvertently break them. That is a tendency to which those of a religious caste of mind are most prone. Nor should we think it a bad thing if done mindful of what Jesus and Leviticus tell us. But when it leads us, as it did the Pharisees, to add burdens to our shoulders we should remember we will be swallowing camels whilst straining at gnats. We shall by no wise find salvation in the observance of the Law. That, of course, does not mean we should not, through faith, keep it where it applies to us (which is the moral law), but it does mean we should recall its spirit more often than, perhaps, some of us are inclined.

If, on the one hand, we have that tendency among us, then among the latter-day Gentiles, those who do not believe, then we see the wrath of God revealed now, as it was then. “Professing to be wise’ the Gentiles become fools: they worship objects (in our case material goods and ourselves) and they are given over to ‘vile passions’. There is the wrath of God revealed to us – and it is from that which our faith in Christ has saved us. In His sacrifice we are justified – made righteous. Salvation is the work of God in us after justification. It begins at the moment we believe and continues in us until, having lived in him, we die in him, and if we die in him, we are raised with him.

Paul reminds us that we have fallen short of the glory of God, that we are all sinners. No good works, no outward show of piety can restore that relationship with God – that comes from God alone. As Paul reminded the Ephesians, and as he reminds us:  For by grace you have been saved through faith, and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God. There is the great mystery at the heart of our faith namely that ‘God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.’ A very good man might dies for another such – but what wonderous love is this that God, who alone is perfect, should die upon the Cross and rise again so that we sinners should escape the wages of sin?

For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.



Gospel: 3rd Sunday of Easter Year B


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Luke 24:35-48

In Bede we read of the encouragement the Disciples receive from what should comfort us – namely that Jesus keeps his promise – where there were two or three gathered together, there he was. When we come together to receive Him in the Eucharist, he is indeed here with us; who can doubt it? He gives us peace, and more than we can know. At the nativity the angels proclaimed peace to all men of good will, and by becoming Incarnate and dying for us, Jesus brings that peace to all who will receive him. He is indeed the Prince of Peace.

Asking why they were ‘troubled’, St Ambrose answers his own question by saying that it was not so for Peter or John who had seen and believed, but it may well have been so for the others – now He comes so that they might understand the full meaning of the Scripture. As St Ignatius of Antioch wrote, Jesus came in the flesh after the resurrection – he was no disembodied spirit. St Cyril of Alexandria makes much the same point when he emphasises that by showing them his wounds, Jesus was proving that he was the same person who had died upon the Cross. Jesus knows how troubled many of them will be by this, so he bids them peace and reveals to them that he is indeed risen, even as he said would be the case – which is why he allows them to touch him. In his commentary on Luke, St Cyril adds something which is still needful to be said:

Let no one quibble at the resurrection. Although you hear the Sacred Scripture say that the human body is sown a physical body but raised a spiritual body, do not deny the return of human bodies to incorruption.

Sts Leo, Ambrose and Augustine all join in emphasising the corporeal reality of the Risen Lord, as does St John Damascene who emphasises that although Jesus no longer felt physical wants, he wanted to show that he really had risen bodily from the dead. In doing so, he opened their minds to the great truth they were to proclaim to the ends of the earth.

Bede, like St Augustine, reminds us that their mission was to take his message of repentance and forgiveness of sins to all men. They did not yet understand the gifts they would be given at Pentecost, but were told that their mission would begin in Jerusalem.

He appears to us as he said, in the form of bread and wine which are his body and his blood, and when we are together to receive him, he is with us – even to the end of time. The Church proclaims to us the great truths he gave her. Shall we deny them?



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