IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI
In a recent issue of Comment Magazine, Timothy Keller, theologian and pastor of Redeemer Presbyterian Church in New York City, wrote an insightful essay entitled, The Fading of Forgiveness, within which he highlights how, more and more, forgiveness is being seen as a weakness and a naivete.

He begins by pointing to a couple of highly publicized incidents of forgiveness. In 2015, Dylann Roof shot nine members inside an African American church in South Carolina and was publicly forgiven by the relatives of his victims. And in 2006, when a gunman shot ten Amish children in a school room in Pennsylvania and then killed himself, the Amish community there not only forgave him, they went to visit his family and expressed sympathies to them for their loss. What was the general response? Admiration for extraordinary selflessness and virtue? No, not that. More generally, these instances of forgiveness were judged as naïve fundamentalism and as unhelpful. Why? Why would these instances not be recognized instead both for what is most noble within humanity and for what is highest within religious virtue?

Keller suggests that there are a number of reasons for this, but he singles out two in particular. We are a “therapeutic culture” (where only our own truth and feelings matter) and a culture that has a “religion without grace” (its vision and virtue go no further than what echoes in our emotions and willpower). Hence, our culture sees forgiveness more negatively than positively. For it, forgiveness allows oppression to maintain its power and thus permits the cycle of violence and abuse to go on. Like a family refusing to stand up to an alcoholic member, it enables rather than stops the abuse and allows a sick situation to continue. Forgiveness then is a further injustice to the one who has been violated and can lead to a form of self-loathing, an acceptance of a humiliation destructive of one’s self-image, a further loss of dignity. Moreover, the moral pressure to forgive can be a further burden on the victim and an easy escape for the perpetrator. Is this logic correct?

From a purely emotional point of view, yes, it feels right; but it is wrong when scrutinized more deeply. First, it is evident that vindictiveness will only produce more vindictiveness. Vindictiveness will never soften a heart and help change it. Only forgiveness (analogous to dialysis) can take violence and hatred out of a relationship. As well, in the words of Martin Luther King, anyone devoid of the power of forgiveness is also devoid of the power of love. Why? Because each of us will get hurt by others and will hurt others in every one of our relationships. That is the price of community inside human inadequacy. Hence, relationships at every level, personal and social, can only sustain themselves long term if there is forgiveness.

Moreover, with Jesus, forgiveness becomes singularly the most important of all virtues. It decides whether we go to heaven or not. As Jesus tells us when he gives us the Lord’s Prayer, if we cannot forgive others, God will not be able to forgive us. Why? Because the banquet table, eternal community of life, is only open to everyone who is willing to sit down with everyone. God cannot change this. Only we can open our hearts sufficiently to sit down with everyone.

Recently, given some of our ecclesial infighting, various groups have attempted to single out one specific moral issue as a litmus test for Christian discipleship. For many, this litmus test is abortion; others pick church attendance or some other issue. What might serve as a litmus test for Christian discipleship? Precisely this: the willingness to forgive. Can I forgive someone who has wronged me? Can I forgive someone whom I hate and who hates me? That challenge lies most central in Jesus’ teaching.

That being said, it must also be said that forgiveness is not simple or easy. That is why in the Judeo-Christian spirituality of Sabbath, there is a (too-little-known) spirituality of forgiveness. As we know, the command to celebrate Sabbath asks us to honor this cycle in our lives: Work for six days – rest for one day. Work for seven years – rest for one year. Work of seven times seven (forty-nine) years – have a major rest (sabbatical). Work for a lifetime – and then be on sabbatical for eternity.

Well that is also the cycle for forgiveness. In the spirituality of Sabbath: You may hold a minor grudge for six days – then you need let it go. You may hold a major grudge for seven years – then you need to let it go. You may hold a soul-searing grudge for forty-nine years – then you need to let it go. You may hold a grudge that ruined your life until your deathbed – then you need to let it go. That is the final Christian moral imperative.

Desmond Tutu once said, “without forgiveness there is no future.” True – on both sides of eternity.

(Oblate Father Ron Rolheiser is a theologian, teacher and award-winning author. He can be contacted through his website www.ronrolheiser.com.)

SPIRIT AND TRUTH
By Father Aaron Williams

The Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy published by the Second Vatican Council (Sacrosanctum Concilium) does not restrict itself solely to a consideration of the Holy Mass. The celebration of the Divine Office (i.e., the ‘Liturgy of the Hours’) is also given a special place, and the vision outlined by the Council Fathers in this regard is one that still has yet to be fully achieved.

The Divine Office is the daily prayer of the Church as found in the Roman Breviary — which is most commonly understood as the prayer book used by priests and religious doing the day. The celebration of the Office finds its roots in Jewish temple prayer, when the Levitical choir would chant the psalms daily at set hours of the day. St. Luke records in Acts that the Apostles themselves continued this practice, three times mentioning that they went to the temple at the hour of prayer. The early Christians maintained this practice, gradually developing our own tradition of the Office until around the sixth century when the most popularized version of the Office was finalized in the Rule of St. Benedict. This version is still in use today in many monasteries across the globe. As time went on, Diocesan priests began to slowly form their own usage of the Office, using the Monastic offices as a guideline. This form of the Office became known as the ‘Cathedral Office’ or, more commonly, the ‘Roman Breviary.’

Recognizing the strain put on priests in our present day by the lack of clergy and by the fast-paced nature of modern society, the Fathers of the Second Vatican Council sought to simplify the Breviary so make the Office more approachable for priests and religious today, but a second goal was to give the laity an opportunity to join in praying the Office as well. In fact, Sacrosanctum Concilium directs parish priests to see that the chief hours of the Office, especially on Sunday, are publicly celebrated in parishes in addition to the celebration of the Mass (Cf. 100). Regrettably, only a handful of parishes on a national level ever offer even a single celebration of the Divine Office during the year.

But many people who have attended the celebration of one or more offices have experienced the calming feeling that comes from the chanting of the psalter, and the rhythm of following a cycle of prayer in union with the other people present and the church at large. In fact, the Office has historically had such an effect on the laity who attend, that many of the Protestant reformers were insistent at maintaining some form of the Divine Office in their own prayer books precisely so that it could be celebrated and chanted publicly.

In the United States, perhaps the greatest example of the Protestant prayer book office is found at St. Thomas Fifth Avenue Episcopal Church in New York City. The choir of men and boys at St. Thomas chant the Anglican form of the Divine Office on four days of the week, which for many years was broadcast over the radio and, in light of the COVID-19 pandemic, is now video live-streamed and available on-demand. Even though their office is a reduced form of the Catholic office to which I am bound to pray as a priest, for nearly six years I have found great comfort in listening to their chanted offices several times during the week, which is often accompanied by stellar preaching.

Despite the work that still needs to be done in order to accomplish their vision of the Council Fathers, already there are several resources available to assist Catholics in praying the Liturgy of the Hours along with the rest of the church. Apart from buying an expensive four-volume book set, the Divine Office is also available in an app format from iBreviary, Divine Office, or Universalis. The makers of Divine Office also record the office daily which can be listened as a podcast. Another podcast available is called ‘Praystation Portable’, which is better for people with less time because the entire office is recited rather than sung. The of the Abbaye Sainte-Madeleine du Barroux in France also produce a podcast for all their offices which are sung in traditional Gregorian chant in Latin. Because of the time differences between here and France, the Offices are always available well-ahead of time. Our seminarians in New Orleans also video live-stream their celebration of Sunday Vespers each Sunday evening at 5 p.m. via the Notre Dame Seminary Facebook page.

Likewise, in addition to the live-stream of the Episcopal office at St. Thomas Fifth Avenue, there is a Catholic counterpart to the traditional Anglican offices which was put together following a move by Pope Benedict XVI to give Catholic converts the ability to maintain some of their devotional heritage. This reduced office is very approachable for those without time to pray several offices during the day, and also includes longer passages from scripture, making the office a good way to also read through the Bible. This office available at prayer.convert.org.

(Father Aaron Williams is the Parochial Vicar at St. Patrick Parish in Meridian.)

Guest column
By Mary Marrocco (CNS)

It can be difficult these days not to become crabby, bitter and divisive. Every day, we receive so much that frightens or angers us, and seems to threaten our very being.

Recently, I encountered a woman named Joanna. She was wondering what to do about a spate of messages that were written and posted about her in big bold letters, calling her mean and nasty. Her eyes were wide; she was hurt and scared. Understandable reactions, given that slander is both hurtful and dangerous.

Joanna, seeing such messages with her name on them, could have become what she received: nasty, mean and cowardly. Here are symptoms of a virus that has far more variants than alpha and delta; a virus contagious and deadly, that’s been around since Adam and Eve bit into the fruit they were warned not to taste.

How could Joanna avoid becoming what she received, and passing it on to others?

St. Augustine of Hippo observed that humans become what we receive. He had great respect for the power of habit to influence and change us, for the worse or for the better. He saw the goodness and beauty at the core of every person, and the ugliness we are capable of and are frequently marred by.

The fundamental antidote, for him, was always the same: Receive the sacraments. Receive the Eucharist. Become what you receive. He saw that Communion is not something we do, make or are capable of; it’s something we receive and become. And that “something” is not ugly or nasty, but godly.

So what changes when we receive Communion? We do. We are changed in the twinkling of an eye (1 Cor 15:52) and we are changed little by little, as water drops on rock carved out Niagara Falls. We are changed, not into something else, but to our true selves. “Be what you see; receive what you are.” (Sermon 272 of Augustine)

This is communion. This is what we are made for: communion with God and each other. Nevertheless, we have trouble getting there – even when we try – and more trouble still when we stop trying or head the other way.

This is our real work: communion. The secret is, it is not a work but a gift. We can work against it, of course, like the writer of the false messages about Joanna. We will not be able to destroy it, but we can harm ourselves.

Fortunately, even when we inflict self-harm, God remains imbued in it all, urging us from within. “From your presence, where can I flee?” (Ps 139:7) As Augustine observed, we have hope because God is not changeable, but we are. “We will all be changed.” (1 Cor 15:51)

Someone told me recently that while alone in her room praying for a friend who is dying, she had a sudden sense of being not alone at all but surrounded by others who have died and live. She realized, joyfully, that she was in a crowded room: the communion of saints.

If Eve, when offered the fruit, had dug deep and found her anger toward the serpent for urging it on her, she might have had the energy to say, “No thank you,” or “Get behind me, Adversary (Satan).” Perhaps she and Adam would have got along better, and the whole human race after them. If we are able to focus our anger on the real Adversary, we might learn to find each other instead of harm each other.

But how? Another secret: We can’t, but Christ can. And because Christ can, therefore we can. In receiving the Eucharist, we receive all Christ is, completely given, nothing held back. We become what we long to be, though we might be only dimly aware of our longing.

Joanna too had a secret, which I happened to know by fortuitous accident. Just the week before the mean messages were posted, I heard a homily reminding us participants how good it is to be together at Eucharist, taking in the beauty and joy and gift of God. But that means we don’t go home and leave it all “at church;” we must bring it with us, into the world. That is “Mass,” being “sent.”

Hearing this homily, I recalled that as I’d arrived at church that morning, Joanna was arriving too. She stopped and told me her concern about a man down the street who asked her for food. “I see him often, but he doesn’t usually ask for breakfast on Sunday morning,” she explained.

She immediately went, got him breakfast, and came back into church just as liturgy was beginning. Yes, the same Joanna who later had the nasty messages posted about her.

Who are we becoming? Let us receive the gift of God himself. Let us become what we receive.

Many voices, now more than ever, are trying to distract and fool us and keep us apart. As my spiritual father liked to say: Keep the focus.

(Marrocco can be reached at marrocco7@sympatico.ca)