[Valle Verde 5; 10 am]
On the First Reading: Is 42: 1-4; 6-7' I'm not a literal-minded person, but how I wish this passage could be replicated literally. If only justice could be brought forth without any shouting, or crying out, or voices on the street. If only it were that easy...
On the Second Reading: Acts 10: 34-38; "In truth, I see that God shows no partiality." Would that we could say the same for his church and his creations...
On the Gospel: How many people nowadays could take on John's role? One who can achieve so much yet acknowledges that he is but a harbinger of a better man. In the realm of leadership, political or otherwise, rare is the person who would willingly seat himself or herself at the end of the table - and rarer still would be someone recognizing that and moving the humble guest to his proper place of honor at the head.
We've had our share of purported Saviors - did they fail because we had a surplus of saviors, and a famine of baptists? Do they fail because they try to do too much instead of laying the groundwork for those that come after? Or do too many cooks simply spoil the broth?
On the Homily: As a believer, I do admit that I find the idea of a smug atheist looking down his nose at me to be irritating as hell. That being said however, I think the priest needs to learn that one cannot refute the argument that "the Bible is wrong - there is no God" by saying in turn "God is real - see, our 2,000 year old Bible says so!"
I did however like his prayer for the poor - not the material poor, but the poor in spirit.
Other Notes: "The Lord will bless his people with peace," we chanted during the responsorial psalm. Let it be so. Let it be soon.
Showing posts with label religion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label religion. Show all posts
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Sunday, January 4, 2009
50 Odd Eucharists: Week 2 (Epiphany)
[Tiendesitas, 11 a.m.]
On the First Reading: Isiah 60:1-6; Any mention of Jerusalem and the Israleites (read as: practically any Old Testament reading) cannot but evoke images of the ongoing strife in Gaza. No signs of the conflict dying down any time soon as of my last visit to CNN.
On the Second Reading: Ephesians 3:2 - 3:5-6; I wonder if we Christians truly realize the significance of Paul's statement here. The focus is usually on the part of the reading which states that we Gentiles are co-heirs through the Gospel. What I find more significant is the statement that this revelation "was not made known to people in other generations..." Something for people to remember when they cling to the immutability of doctrines and interpretations made centuries ago.
On the Gospel: Matthew 2:1-12; I suppose that the prophecy regarding a ruler coming from Bethlehem wasn't really known widely amongst the Israelites: otherwise I find it hard to imagine why ambitious people would leave anywhere other than Bethlehem.
The Gospel also contains one of the dream-warnings that are so often used in the Bible. Not that I'm complaining in any way about the result, but I tend to wonder what circumstances justify such intervention, and whether the world might be a better or worse place if it happened more often.
On the Homily: There's something to be said about a homily which hits not one, but two of my "weak points" in a span of less than 20 minutes.
Almost right off the bat the priest says something to the effect that "while some theologians seem to suggest that other religions such as Islam and Buhddism have their own saviors, I remind you this is inconsistent with Catholic doctrine. Jesus says he is the way the truth and the life - not that he is A way." (At which point I am tempted to stand up and say: "But he didn't say he was he ONLY way either" but I don't think the priest would have appreciated my attempts at a legal construction of scripture.)
Now, this kind of statement seems completely at odds with the inclusive and welcoming tone of the readings, and the very symbolism given to the three wise men, who represent the fact that Jesus came to save all people. The attempt at straightjacketing the good news in literal word play also pointedly ignores the underlying message that I personally got from the readings - revelation is subject to growth and change. In the old testament, God was pretty clear about the Israelites being His chosen people, but nowadays Christians feel free to re-interpret many explicit old testament passages as referring not just to the Israelites, but to all Christians - something which we can probably safely say was not the literal meaning of those passages, as Christianity had yet to exist.
The second issue I had with his sermon was that old chestnut that when bad things happen, they do so because of some sort of fault on the part of the afflicted. It's strange really - he started off by saying that as Christians, we don't (or rather, should not) believe in karma (which I think he meant in the "ma-karma ka sana" sense rather than the complex Hindu sense). He says that the disasters that befall us are not God's vengeance against us, which I agree with, - but then goes on to say they are instead the natural consequences of deviating from His will, which I disagree with (rather strongly). He illustrates his point by saying that the origin of the word disaster comes from the greek words dis + astra, which appraently means to deviate from one's course (as determined by the stars).
Putting aside the accuracy of the etymology (some web sources instead interpret that combination as meaning something bad happening due to a misalignment of the stars [i.e. fate]) if that kind of correspondence between godly acts and good fortune existed, then I think there would be a lot less prosperous crooks, or incidents of the saintly dying young. Don't get me wrong, I do think that we all reap what we sow - but not necessarily in this life, and never through anything but human agency. If a thief gets put behind bars due to dilligent cops, that is a consequence of the crook's actions. If that self-same crook falls in a manhole and breaks his neck, the only way that is a consequence of his actions is if he stole the damn manhole cover.
Why would God go through the effort of giving us free will if he was going to go all Pavlov on us?
Other Notes: I think it adds something to the atmosphere of the mass when there are animals in attendance. Particularly when they come in the form of cute Shar Peis.
Word of the Day: Religious Pluralism: "The Second Vatican Council states that salvation includes others who acknowledge the same creator, and explicitly lists Muslims among those (though it refers to them as Mohammedans). The official Catholic position is therefore that Jews, Muslims and Christians (including churches outside of Rome's authority) all acknowledge the same God, though Jews and Muslims have not yet received the gospel while other churches are generally considered deviant to a greater or lesser degree."
On the First Reading: Isiah 60:1-6; Any mention of Jerusalem and the Israleites (read as: practically any Old Testament reading) cannot but evoke images of the ongoing strife in Gaza. No signs of the conflict dying down any time soon as of my last visit to CNN.
On the Second Reading: Ephesians 3:2 - 3:5-6; I wonder if we Christians truly realize the significance of Paul's statement here. The focus is usually on the part of the reading which states that we Gentiles are co-heirs through the Gospel. What I find more significant is the statement that this revelation "was not made known to people in other generations..." Something for people to remember when they cling to the immutability of doctrines and interpretations made centuries ago.
On the Gospel: Matthew 2:1-12; I suppose that the prophecy regarding a ruler coming from Bethlehem wasn't really known widely amongst the Israelites: otherwise I find it hard to imagine why ambitious people would leave anywhere other than Bethlehem.
The Gospel also contains one of the dream-warnings that are so often used in the Bible. Not that I'm complaining in any way about the result, but I tend to wonder what circumstances justify such intervention, and whether the world might be a better or worse place if it happened more often.
On the Homily: There's something to be said about a homily which hits not one, but two of my "weak points" in a span of less than 20 minutes.
Almost right off the bat the priest says something to the effect that "while some theologians seem to suggest that other religions such as Islam and Buhddism have their own saviors, I remind you this is inconsistent with Catholic doctrine. Jesus says he is the way the truth and the life - not that he is A way." (At which point I am tempted to stand up and say: "But he didn't say he was he ONLY way either" but I don't think the priest would have appreciated my attempts at a legal construction of scripture.)
Now, this kind of statement seems completely at odds with the inclusive and welcoming tone of the readings, and the very symbolism given to the three wise men, who represent the fact that Jesus came to save all people. The attempt at straightjacketing the good news in literal word play also pointedly ignores the underlying message that I personally got from the readings - revelation is subject to growth and change. In the old testament, God was pretty clear about the Israelites being His chosen people, but nowadays Christians feel free to re-interpret many explicit old testament passages as referring not just to the Israelites, but to all Christians - something which we can probably safely say was not the literal meaning of those passages, as Christianity had yet to exist.
The second issue I had with his sermon was that old chestnut that when bad things happen, they do so because of some sort of fault on the part of the afflicted. It's strange really - he started off by saying that as Christians, we don't (or rather, should not) believe in karma (which I think he meant in the "ma-karma ka sana" sense rather than the complex Hindu sense). He says that the disasters that befall us are not God's vengeance against us, which I agree with, - but then goes on to say they are instead the natural consequences of deviating from His will, which I disagree with (rather strongly). He illustrates his point by saying that the origin of the word disaster comes from the greek words dis + astra, which appraently means to deviate from one's course (as determined by the stars).
Putting aside the accuracy of the etymology (some web sources instead interpret that combination as meaning something bad happening due to a misalignment of the stars [i.e. fate]) if that kind of correspondence between godly acts and good fortune existed, then I think there would be a lot less prosperous crooks, or incidents of the saintly dying young. Don't get me wrong, I do think that we all reap what we sow - but not necessarily in this life, and never through anything but human agency. If a thief gets put behind bars due to dilligent cops, that is a consequence of the crook's actions. If that self-same crook falls in a manhole and breaks his neck, the only way that is a consequence of his actions is if he stole the damn manhole cover.
Why would God go through the effort of giving us free will if he was going to go all Pavlov on us?
Other Notes: I think it adds something to the atmosphere of the mass when there are animals in attendance. Particularly when they come in the form of cute Shar Peis.
Word of the Day: Religious Pluralism: "The Second Vatican Council states that salvation includes others who acknowledge the same creator, and explicitly lists Muslims among those (though it refers to them as Mohammedans). The official Catholic position is therefore that Jews, Muslims and Christians (including churches outside of Rome's authority) all acknowledge the same God, though Jews and Muslims have not yet received the gospel while other churches are generally considered deviant to a greater or lesser degree."
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
50 Odd Eucharists: Week 1
(One of my new year's resolutions is to try to write a short reflection after every mass I attend for 2009.)
[Mary the Queen; 8 p.m. (anticipated)]
On the First Reading: Numbers 6:22-27 It's sad and ironic to hear the Israelites mentioned in the first reading, given the on-going turmoil in the middle east. Being more exposed to American media and analysis in the past, I've always been more than willing to give the Israeli government the benefit of the doubt. Yet... it's hard to see how the current offensive can be justified (as opposed to understood): Barack Obama has compared it as answering rocket attacks to his home, but I don't see how one is justified in retaliating to this by a missile that kills the innocent along with the guilty (if he's lucky).
On the Second Reading: Psalms 67:2-3, 5, 6, 8 Wasn't quite sure what "Abba" meant so I did a little research. it apparently means "father" in Hebrew. In that case, I don't understand what "Abba Father" means...
On the Gospel: Luke 2:16-21 Not to argue against Catholic tradition and feminist inclinations, but it's always bothered me somewhat that St. Joseph gets such short shrift in the Gospels. Mary is Mother of God because of her relation to Jesus... Surely that makes St. Joseph Father of God in the same way? Is this just not recognized because somehow it would dilute or confuse the doctrine that God was the Father of Jesus? Yet is God not both Father and Mother to Jesus? I sort of envisioned Jesus being created solely by God, not using Mary's DNA or chromosomes but simply making a body for Jesus, with Mary bearing him in her womb. That of course makes Mary's involvement with the child - like all mother's - more intimate than St. Joseph's, but surely not enough to warrant such a disparity in their veneration?
On the Homily: The priest mentioned the current situation in Gaza (thankfully), and linked that sad state of affairs with the fact that January 1 is World Peace Day. The rest of the sermon was a little vague and scattershot, but he spoke clearly and exhuded the simple, gentle faith that is so magnetic in a priest, so it was alright.
Other Notes: I find it ironic that the final song was "Seasons of Love" from the musical Rent. I sincerely hope that people who sung it/heard it took the time to think long and hard about the message of tolerance and acceptance in that play, and contrast it with the party-line of the Church on homosexuality.
[Mary the Queen; 8 p.m. (anticipated)]
On the First Reading: Numbers 6:22-27 It's sad and ironic to hear the Israelites mentioned in the first reading, given the on-going turmoil in the middle east. Being more exposed to American media and analysis in the past, I've always been more than willing to give the Israeli government the benefit of the doubt. Yet... it's hard to see how the current offensive can be justified (as opposed to understood): Barack Obama has compared it as answering rocket attacks to his home, but I don't see how one is justified in retaliating to this by a missile that kills the innocent along with the guilty (if he's lucky).
On the Second Reading: Psalms 67:2-3, 5, 6, 8 Wasn't quite sure what "Abba" meant so I did a little research. it apparently means "father" in Hebrew. In that case, I don't understand what "Abba Father" means...
On the Gospel: Luke 2:16-21 Not to argue against Catholic tradition and feminist inclinations, but it's always bothered me somewhat that St. Joseph gets such short shrift in the Gospels. Mary is Mother of God because of her relation to Jesus... Surely that makes St. Joseph Father of God in the same way? Is this just not recognized because somehow it would dilute or confuse the doctrine that God was the Father of Jesus? Yet is God not both Father and Mother to Jesus? I sort of envisioned Jesus being created solely by God, not using Mary's DNA or chromosomes but simply making a body for Jesus, with Mary bearing him in her womb. That of course makes Mary's involvement with the child - like all mother's - more intimate than St. Joseph's, but surely not enough to warrant such a disparity in their veneration?
On the Homily: The priest mentioned the current situation in Gaza (thankfully), and linked that sad state of affairs with the fact that January 1 is World Peace Day. The rest of the sermon was a little vague and scattershot, but he spoke clearly and exhuded the simple, gentle faith that is so magnetic in a priest, so it was alright.
Other Notes: I find it ironic that the final song was "Seasons of Love" from the musical Rent. I sincerely hope that people who sung it/heard it took the time to think long and hard about the message of tolerance and acceptance in that play, and contrast it with the party-line of the Church on homosexuality.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
That Same Old Revolution
The Catholic Bishops' Conference of the Philippines (CBCP) recently issued a statement entitled: "Corruption: A Social and Moral Cancer"which, as you might expect from the title, is a denunciation of corruption in the government in light of recent studies showing that the Philippines has almost cracked the top 10 of the world's most corrupt countries, while remaining on top of our game, so to speak, in regards to poverty and hunger.
As a concerned Filipino Catholic, I read the statement - and then I remembered why I rarely read such statements. I thought about it, and rather than just comment here on the blog, I thought I'd attempt to engage my church's hierarchy in a bit of dialogue. Let's see if anything comes out of it.
I think I got my main issue about the statement off my chest, but here are a few minor points I'd still like to raise (though I didn't do so in the comment, since I didn't want to distract from my main point):
First, this bothers me. A lot:
Now, I am a fan of nuanced responses and shades of gray, but there are some issues wherein you simply cannot take a position on the fence. If someone asks you, as an influential religious leader, whether or not something you yourself wrote means that you are asking people to "organize a move to oust" a sitting President, I don't think you should be allowed to wash your hands and basically say "bahala sila."
Second, why did they subtitle the piece "Quotes from Prophets of Hope"? The people they cited do, I think, qualify as performing a prophetic function, speaking truth to power and all that - but, er, none of the quotations used seemed particularly hopeful. I don't think I'd call a doctor who diagnosed me with cancer as a "prophet of hope."
As a concerned Filipino Catholic, I read the statement - and then I remembered why I rarely read such statements. I thought about it, and rather than just comment here on the blog, I thought I'd attempt to engage my church's hierarchy in a bit of dialogue. Let's see if anything comes out of it.
I think I got my main issue about the statement off my chest, but here are a few minor points I'd still like to raise (though I didn't do so in the comment, since I didn't want to distract from my main point):
First, this bothers me. A lot:
Asked whether the statement is a call for the public to organize a move to oust President Arroyo, Lagdameo said it is up to the public to decide on what course of action they want to use.
“Kailangan ang taong bayan ay magsama-sama kung paano sila mag-response together dun sa sulat namin na sinabi naming communal discernment and communal action," he explained.
Now, I am a fan of nuanced responses and shades of gray, but there are some issues wherein you simply cannot take a position on the fence. If someone asks you, as an influential religious leader, whether or not something you yourself wrote means that you are asking people to "organize a move to oust" a sitting President, I don't think you should be allowed to wash your hands and basically say "bahala sila."
Second, why did they subtitle the piece "Quotes from Prophets of Hope"? The people they cited do, I think, qualify as performing a prophetic function, speaking truth to power and all that - but, er, none of the quotations used seemed particularly hopeful. I don't think I'd call a doctor who diagnosed me with cancer as a "prophet of hope."
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Life Changing Books
Read an interesting excerpt of an article over at the PGS Blog (via Village Idiot Savant) and I thought I'd make a post out of my somewhat truncated comment at Kyu's.
While the gist of the excerpt was that most if not all of the books we've read that changed our lives were books we read when we were children, I think I might be strange in the sense that there have been several books I've read since coming of age (so to speak) that have changed the way I view life - or at least, have tinted the way I view it. That's probably because my reading habits expanded beyond genre fiction as I grew older, and a lot of non-fiction out there can really expand your horizons. Here are a few:
* The Canon by Natalie Angier
* What Jesus Meant by Gary Wills
* The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion
This isn't to say that genre fiction hasn't exerted a pull on me as well, but usually it's a particular scene or even a particular line in the book that will color my viewpoint from then on. The most recent one I can recall takes place in "The Curse of Chalion" by Lois McMaster Bujold, when the protagonist is explaining divine grace using a metaphor of an upturned cup.
I have to admit though that, by sheer dint of having been read during my formative years, many of the early books which influenced me, had a profound influence, mainly in terms of giving me a certain outlook on ethics and faith. The early God-Tales books by Nil Guillemette allowed me to form a kinder, gentler relationship with God than one reinforced by the threat of eternal damnation (They are a series of short 'parable' type stories, quite a few of which take on elements of sci-fi/fantasy). The book that moved me the most however, was "A Plague of Angels" by Sherri S. Tepper:
Hm... I'm sure I'm missing a few (a lot of the philosophical books I read in college, especially in Eddieboy Calasanz's class), but these are the ones that stand out the most at the moment. It's strange looking at that list now and seeing how the aspect of my life most often impacted by books was my relation to God and the church - but then, that's one aspect of life for which I found it hard to go to my traditional sources of guidance in my youth. (Jesuits may be amongst the most open-minded priests I know, but I somehow didn't feel that they could be entirely objective with me should I choose to discuss the logical fallacies I perceived in the concept of Hell. Same goes for my Mom.)
While the gist of the excerpt was that most if not all of the books we've read that changed our lives were books we read when we were children, I think I might be strange in the sense that there have been several books I've read since coming of age (so to speak) that have changed the way I view life - or at least, have tinted the way I view it. That's probably because my reading habits expanded beyond genre fiction as I grew older, and a lot of non-fiction out there can really expand your horizons. Here are a few:
* The Canon by Natalie Angier
If science had been taught to me with this much verve and enthusiasm, wonder and playfulness, I might have been very tempted to walk down the path of a scientist rather than a lawyer. The book does a masterful job of allowing the reader to wrap his head around the beauty, interconnectedness and sheer scale of science. (It's genius that one of the first chapters discusses calibration and scale, so that the reader begins to have an idea of, for instance, just how small a gene really is.) When you realize that a good 90+% of any object we see is actually, well, emptiness, it's hard to look at anything in quite the same way again.
* What Jesus Meant by Gary Wills
Being Filipino and having basically reared by the Jesuits, I've been a part of the Catholic Church practically all my life. As I grew older though, that self-same Jesuit education that gave me my Catholic foundation early on, was the same education that allowed me to scrutinize, question, and eventually disagree with certain structures, teachings and traditions of my church. Mr. Wills was the first author I read who could articulate these discomforts, these cognitive dissonances if you will, and still remain a Catholic. I don't think I quite agree with certain consequences Mr. Wills reads into his interpretation of the Gospel, but he's certainly given me the theological grounding on which to source my own disagreements with the One, Holy and Apostolic.
* The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion
The death of a loved one is not something I bear thinking about - but reading this book was, for a newly wed like me, urgent and necessary. I don't think there is any more effective way to enable yourself to truly savor each moment you have with the one you love, than by allowing yourself to be be drowned in the memories and emotions, the grief and loneliness, of one for whom those moments will never come again.
This isn't to say that genre fiction hasn't exerted a pull on me as well, but usually it's a particular scene or even a particular line in the book that will color my viewpoint from then on. The most recent one I can recall takes place in "The Curse of Chalion" by Lois McMaster Bujold, when the protagonist is explaining divine grace using a metaphor of an upturned cup.
I have to admit though that, by sheer dint of having been read during my formative years, many of the early books which influenced me, had a profound influence, mainly in terms of giving me a certain outlook on ethics and faith. The early God-Tales books by Nil Guillemette allowed me to form a kinder, gentler relationship with God than one reinforced by the threat of eternal damnation (They are a series of short 'parable' type stories, quite a few of which take on elements of sci-fi/fantasy). The book that moved me the most however, was "A Plague of Angels" by Sherri S. Tepper:
Even as a child, I could not quite reconcile how an All-Loving, All-Powerful, All-Knowing God would need to make his Son a sacrifice (as I understood it then) in order to forgive the sins of men. While I can't say that this book had the answer to that question (and yes this is a genre book, not an outwardly religious one), the beautiful ending - and the questions asked therein - continues to this day to color what I understand by the term 'Sacrifice'. Plague of Angels remains to be the only book that ever made me weep - not cry mind you. Weep.
Hm... I'm sure I'm missing a few (a lot of the philosophical books I read in college, especially in Eddieboy Calasanz's class), but these are the ones that stand out the most at the moment. It's strange looking at that list now and seeing how the aspect of my life most often impacted by books was my relation to God and the church - but then, that's one aspect of life for which I found it hard to go to my traditional sources of guidance in my youth. (Jesuits may be amongst the most open-minded priests I know, but I somehow didn't feel that they could be entirely objective with me should I choose to discuss the logical fallacies I perceived in the concept of Hell. Same goes for my Mom.)
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Godly Love
Ah, Jesuit masses... how I miss you...
This afternoon I heard my first significant homily in what seems like ages. The priest (freshly ordained last April apparently) mentioned the tragic suicides that took place recently involving the Ateneo or Ateneans. He related an incident where, during one of the wakes being held for one of the deceased, he was approached by a woman who admitted that she was surprised that masses were being held, as she had been of the impression that the Catholic church does not hold mass for people who commit suicide.
The young priest told her that this policy had already been changed, but more importantly he then gave her what he saw as the reason for this: God is perfect love after all. Who are we to limit the depth and breadth of this love? To make sweeping statements as to whom it does and does not apply?
I agree with the sentiment completely. It is a sad irony then, that more often than not, it is the church hierarchy which places God behind man made borders, failing to understand this elemental fact: The source of love is not found in the worthiness of the loved, but in the the virtue of the lover.
This afternoon I heard my first significant homily in what seems like ages. The priest (freshly ordained last April apparently) mentioned the tragic suicides that took place recently involving the Ateneo or Ateneans. He related an incident where, during one of the wakes being held for one of the deceased, he was approached by a woman who admitted that she was surprised that masses were being held, as she had been of the impression that the Catholic church does not hold mass for people who commit suicide.
The young priest told her that this policy had already been changed, but more importantly he then gave her what he saw as the reason for this: God is perfect love after all. Who are we to limit the depth and breadth of this love? To make sweeping statements as to whom it does and does not apply?
I agree with the sentiment completely. It is a sad irony then, that more often than not, it is the church hierarchy which places God behind man made borders, failing to understand this elemental fact: The source of love is not found in the worthiness of the loved, but in the the virtue of the lover.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
My Lenten Readings
Like the vast majority of Filipinos, I was born and raised a Catholic, by a family for whom faith has always been felt, but lived. I was also born and raised in a city, taught by my mentors (many of whom come from my family) the value of reason, logic and critical thinking.
Ah, the olde Faith vs. Reason dichotomy, some of you will say.
Not quite. Think more Religion vs. Reason.
It is the Catholic Church, with its doctrines and hierarchy and ancient traditions, with which my reason struggles. Not because I have a little "Creationist" angel and "Evolutionist" devil perched on my shoulders and shouting imprecations at each other - the mainstream Catholic Church is not quite as literal in its interpretation of the Good Book (anymore) I think.
What I do have trouble with, is reconciling my discerned moral values on issues such as birth control, homosexuality and individual rights with certain positions adopted by my Church, and clothed with the aura of immovable authority. Even more difficult to reconcile is a structure wherein I can be told by members of the hierarchy that my discerned moral values are wrong, without engaging me in any discussion and debate. I've never dealt well with "arguments from authority" - just ask my mother.
One does not however, simply discard one's religion, nor can one shrug off as irrelevant the teachings of a Church that have passed through the hands of some of the most brilliant - and radical, for their time - thinkers the human race has ever produced.
What is a Concerned Catholic to do then? While many will have their own methods, mine has been engraved in my bones from years of Jesuit education: pull up a chair, open a book, read it, and discern.
Fair enough.
Right now as my Lenten commitment (I hardly consider reading a good book to be a 'sacrifice') I will be trying to go through two "textbooks" that have gone unread for too long: "Doubts and Loves" by Richard F. Holloway, retired Bishop of Edinburgh in the Scottish Episcopal Church. The second is "Why I Am a Catholic?" a Pulitzer Prize winning author, and one of the few Catholics I know who writes critical, researched books on the Church while still being in the Church.
I hope to find through Holloway's book a distillation of how far the general Christian religion can be reconciled with modern conceptions of values. I read the book of Wills to see how he answers his question... and whether such an answer will apply to me.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
I Lit a Candle At Both Ends...
http://www.senate.gov.ph/photo_release/2008/0207_00.asp
(But) take care not to perform righteous deeds in order that people may see them; otherwise, you will have no recompense from your heavenly Father.
When you give alms, do not blow a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets to win the praise of others. Amen, I say to you, they have received their reward.
But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right is doing,
so that your almsgiving may be secret. And your Father who sees in secret will repay you.
When you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, who love to stand and pray in the synagogues and on street corners so that others may see them. Amen, I say to you, they have received their reward.
But when you pray, go to your inner room, close the door, and pray to your Father in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will repay you.
~~~
Ah, sweet irony. I don’t begrudge the intent – wouldn’t it be nice if finding out the truth about ZTE was as simple as someone actually coming forward and telling us about it?- but I’m unsure as to why they can’t do their speeches and marching in public, and their praying in private.
And, yes, I do realize there was a lot of public praying during EDSA I. Then again, that would seem to me to be a natural reaction if you’re standing in front of the muzzle of a tank.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
