. . . is the title of the new Yahoo Group for admirers of Pope John Paul I that I have just set up.
The reason for the name? Well, given Papa Luciani’s great humility, he probably wouldn’t accept any Yahoo group with his name in the title. “I am God’s postman - I am just the messenger,” he often said. I’m sure that he would be happy only with a group that was called “The Message of Jesus Christ” — because that what he cared about more than anything in the world — with his name, if it occurred at all, way down at the bottom. Well, I tried to bow to his imagined wishes as best I could in the title.
I am working to build up the group and the site and I have already posted a Word document of one of my latest translations of Papa Luciani’s writings, “Psalm 130: Priestly Humility” (on the left of the home page under “Files.”) Check it out!
Papa Luciani is the messenger, Jesus Christ is the message!
32 years ago today, on the feast of the Transfiguration, at the papal villa at Castelgandolfo. His death began that extraordinary season of papal elections that brought us John Paul I and John Paul II.
I think he was a great and much misunderstood Pope. Here’s a little piece from Rome Reports:
Note: There was one really major error in this video: Montini was given his cardinal’s hat on December 15, 1958, very shortly after John XXIII’s election, not in 1962!
And in case you are wondering, yes, I do plan to blog some more about John Paul I and his “God as Mother” theology soon.
Illness and extra work have left me with little time for blogging. One of the things I have had to finish is the translations for the upcoming issue of Humilitas, the quarterly newsletter for John Paul I.
Among other things, I happily translated one of Luciani’s earliest writings, from his time in Belluno. It was written for the Amici del Seminario Gregoriano, a little newsletter Don Albino himself had founded to encourage vocations in the diocese. He did it by writing a series of articles called “The Great Vocations,” recounting the moments of decision in the lives of some well-known priests, including some saints. He had a real knack for making the choice for the priesthood look like a noble and exciting adventure — something to be undertaken by the bold and daring. Here he tackles the story of one of the greatest vocations of all time: St. Ignatius of Loyola, the founder of the Jesuits. Don Albino had a predilection for Ignatius’ life story, for early on while in the seminary, he had planned to join the Jesuits, though he was dissuaded from his bishop, because of the need for diocesan priests.
As I was finishing the translation last night, I thought to myself: “Wait a minute: isn’t St. Ignatius’s feast day sometime in July?” I looked it up — and it is in fact today! Reason enough to put up this delightful little piece.
If you are interested in learning more about John Paul I, you can receive Humilitas free of charge by writing to Ray and Lauretta Seabeck, The Missionary Servants of John Paul I, 22 Boyd Hill Rd., Gilford, NH, 03249.
IGNATIUS OF LOYOLA
The Fray
The French artillery had taken delight in hammering the old walls of Pamplona. Under the precise, sure and vigorous blows, the defenders took flight and retreated.
There was still the citadel; a fortress where around a thousand men now had to consider this dilemma: either surrender or condemn themselves to a long, hard siege without hope of victory.
The conditions were harsh; the alcade (mayor) seemed to be wavering. But a young captain decided him. His name was Ignatius of Loyola; he was small, elegant, but all movement and full of fire. He said it was not possible to surrender; that the Spanish were acquainted with death, but not life with dishonor: better to be buried under the rubble than to accept ignominious conditions. And his eyes and works seemed like flame. He succeeded in communicating his enthusiasm to the alcade and his companions; they re-entered the fortress ready for anything.
The siege began. But it was understood from the beginning that it was not to last for long: the enemy was too superior, too well furnished with artillery. The balls came like waves in a storm: the parapets fell. Ignatius performed prodigies of valor: careless of the danger, he appeared everywhere, his voice was heard among the sound of the blows and the collapsing rubble: he tried to keep up the soldiers’ courage. In vain . . . a mortar ball hit him, passing between his legs; the left one was little more than scratched, but the right was shattered. He fell and then the fortress surrendered.
When the French entered, they found him covered with rubble and having lost half his blood: the treated him as they treated the brave, and as soon as possible they had him carried to his father’s castle.
They had discovered in that young man the stuff of a hero.
The Discovery
On the other hand, no one had yet seen in him the stuff of a priest. His parents had already proposed an ecclesiastical career to him, but he had answered with a curt “no.”
He was dreaming of something better! And he entered the following of a gentleman of the court as a page.
Later he had embraced a military career, putting all his passion and courage into it; he had made a name for himself by brilliant feats of arms, and like ancient knights, he now dreamed of only two things: performing great deeds and serving noble ladies.
For this reason, once the first very painful days of illness had passed, and he had entered convalescence, he asked for some romances of chivalry. He wanted to relieve his golden dreams in his imagination, immerse himself in the world he had longed for so much, while he awaited the time he could leave again.
But none of the books he wanted were in the house; his brothers were only able to make available to him a Life of Christ written by Ludolf of Saxony and the Legends of the Saints.
He yawned on opening them; perhaps he thought that numerous other yawns would follow, but there was nothing to do but to make the best of it.
He read, and as he read, he was astonished: This too is chivalry! Here too there are war leaders and captains and ladies!
Other leaders, of course, other soldiers, Christ, Dominic, Francis and the martyrs; but no less gallant and generous and splendid than Amadis of Gaul and Roland; stronger than them, infinitely more powerful, so much so that they revolutionized heaven and earth and changed the face of the world. And what ladies! Virgins who kept faith with their heavenly spouse at the price of any kind of martyrdom; with a smile on their lips, with light in their eyes, they offered their heads to the executioner!
By Jove! It was interesting and he had never thought about it! He immersed himself in reading. He admired the new world, the new heroes. A little at a time, he began to desire to enter and become a part of it.
But then he needed to say farewell to the old world. Here is a divided heart! Half is still wrapped up in the castles, the ladies, the glittering of the halls and the swords; half is subjugated by the fascination of the cross, the sufferings, the souls.
Now, there is one thing that is more interesting than anything else: to choose!
The Decision
One morning in winter, he left home, riding on a good-hearted mule.
He directed the beast to the famous sanctuary of Monserrat. Here he made a last gesture as a knight by spending the night in a vigil of arms in front of the statue of Our Lady, now the only lady of his thoughts. The next day he donated the mule to the convent, gave his soft fur garment to a poor man, put on a poor habit and began his new life.
The choice had been made!
Fifteen years later, in Venice, he was ordained a priest.
And in a short time, he filled the countries of Europe, the Indies and the Americas, with priests; all people in whom he had first transfused his marvelous love for Christ; his enthusiasm, his passion for conquests and great deeds; his combative ardor; people who astonished the word with deeds and miracles that recalled the apostles, along with the sacrifices of the martyrs and the writings of the doctors of the Church; something that was and still is today, one of the most beautiful affirmations of the Catholic priesthood.
Amici del Seminario Gregoriano, September 1942, p. 4 (Albino Luciani, Opera Omnia 9:377-78).
I am finding more and more people out there devoted to Pope John Paul I - including permanent deacon Bob Yerhot, who actually had the privilege of serving his inaugural Mass and who has named him as patron saint of his own blog, Catholic Faith and Reflections.
I hope to learn some more about this story soon. But do check out the reflections on his blog and the translations of the Pope’s writings he has posted there.
Update: June 16
Bob has started writing his memories of Papa Luciani in Rome almost 32 years ago. Here’s the link to Part One and I will put up links to the rest as well. Thanks, Bob!
This is the first of a new series inspired again largely by Pope John Paul I, but also by my interest in the writings of his successors about the vital subject of the imagery we use for God. I hope to finish it by this August for the 32nd anniversary of his election as Pope.
In his 1995 book Crossing the Threshold of Hope, Pope John Paul II wrote an in-depth analysis of the modern approach to God. This passage is especially telling:
Hegel’s paradigm of the master and the servant is more present in people’s consciousness today than is wisdom, whose origin lies in the filial fear of God. The philosophy of arrogance is born of the Hegelian paradigm. The only force capable of effectively counteracting this philosophy is found in the Gospel of Christ, in which the paradigm of master-slave is radically transformed into the paradigm of father-son.
The father-son paradigm is ageless. It is older than human history. The “rays of fatherhood” contained in this formulation belong to the Trinitarian Mystery of God Himself, which shines forth from Him, illuminating man and his history.
This notwithstanding, as we know from Revelation, in human history the “rays of fatherhood” meet a first resistance in the obscure but real fact of original sin. Original sin attempts, then, to abolish fatherhood, destroying its rays which permeate the created world, placing in doubt the truth about God who is Love and leaving man only with a sense of the master-slave relationship. As a result, the Lord appears jealous of His power over the world and over man; and consequently, man feels goaded to do battle against God. No differently than in any epoch of history, the enslaved man is driven to take sides against the master who kept him enslaved. leaving man only with a sense of the master/slave relationship.” (1)
This is a profound statement of the origins of modern humanity’s alienation from God, and the source of so much atheism.
The Pope was not alone in this view. In his book Faith of the Fatherless, Paul Vitz posits that the rejection of the idea of God by many prominent atheists, including Freud, Nietzsche and Jean-Paul Sartre, can be traced to their anger at dead, abusive or emotionally distant fathers. (2)
On the other hand, trying to fill in the gap, we have the pop culture feminist view of God as the “goddess within,” the life-affirming, fun loving earth mother Gaia. One of the most prominent examples of this is the idea of the “Sacred Feminine,” popularized by Dan Brown and The Da Vinci Code, which counters the teaching of the Church with a sex goddess (I wrote about this here). Not all goddess worship is this silly. But it is often very tied to the rejection of the father. Comments I have heard from those who believe in a goddess indicate that they fundamentally reject the idea of God as an authority figure. A goddess, they reason is non-judgmental, and doesn’t have all the “rules” of the patriarchal male God. Here are more signs of a dysfunctional relationship with the father, as well as the Father.
This trend toward “feminization” of God baffles and upsets many Catholics. Of course, it is hurtful to see God the Father as understood in Scripture and Church tradition rejected by so many people. Not surprisingly, these Catholics particularly resist the idea of God as Mother when people try to bring it into the Church.
Once, maybe four or five years ago, we had a guest speaker come to our Secular Franciscan fraternity meeting in the Bronx. He wanted to give a talk about spirituality, but hardly got beyond the first paragraph where he encouraged us to think of God as mother. He met with fierce resistance to this idea from the membership of our fraternity – which, by the way is 100% female, most of them older women. I, who was the youngest in the group, was the only one not opposed, but I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. The women in the group said to the speaker: “God is our Father; this is traditional, why are you changing it?”
People very frequently say to me when subject comes up: “Replacing God as Father with God as Mother feminizes the Church, and it’s already too feminized!” Or “It doesn’t help the spirituality of men in the church to replace God the Father with God the Mother. Men no longer have a real sense of masculinity because of this.” Or “Jesus told us how to speak of God as our Father, and that’s that. We don’t need any more than that.”
Yet our last three Popes have thought differently.
It all began in September 1978, when John Paul I startled a great many people during his very short papacy by proclaiming, “God is a father, but even more a mother.” (3) Yet this memorable remark doesn’t begin to exhaust what he had to say on this subject both before and after he became Pope. John Paul II continued this trend by speaking about God as mother in his encyclicals and letters, in his audience talks, and even in his lovely proclamation of the Our Father. In turn, his successor, Benedict XVI, has used some of the same imagery, and introduced theological clarifications to it.
Yet the idea of God as mother as taught by the most recent popes has penetrated very little into the mind or life of the Church. Many people continue to identify this feminine and maternal imagery for God with dissent in the Church, or at least with something suspiciously trendy, completely unaware that it is papal teaching.
But why have recent popes spoken about God this way?
It is true that we are almost a fatherless society. We are rapidly becoming a national of single mothers, with hardly a father in sight. Perpetual male adolescence is celebrated as the norm, and the responsibility of fatherhood is something people hardly expect anymore. Many people have no relationship with their fathers. In the past, literally or emotionally fatherless Catholics have often turned to priests as father figures. And yet this relationship has so often been betrayed because of the clerical sex abuse scandal.
Yet this emotional distance isn’t connected with just one parent. Radical feminism, and the prevalence of abortion has wounded many women precisely in their maternal instinct.
Some radical feminist pro-abortion women with whom I have had discussions have shown an amazing disgust for motherhood; they are unable to see pregnancy and childbirth, particularly of an unlooked-for child, as anything but “rape for nine months,” “slavery of the uterus,” and “forced motherhood.” Becoming pregnant makes you no more than a “breeder” or “incubator,” and Christianity, by its praise for motherhood, perpetuates this “dehumanizing” view of women. Some of these feminists have even denied that women have a biological maternal instinct, because this “naturalizes” the idea of women as mother – which is an contradiction of their ideal of woman as a career-driven, independent person; above all, motherhood is a slap in the face to the dream of being able to have sexual pleasure any time they like without unpleasant consequences like children.
What is most frightening of all is that women with this deficient maternal sense sometimes do end up becoming mothers. I feel certain their children must suffer for it. Other women who have had and regretted abortions have also admitted great difficulty in parenting when they do have “wanted” children because of their unresolved guilty feelings. So yes, motherhood in our society is in as much trouble as fatherhood is.
Some who have had both parents who were distant have found they were unable to relate to God as Father or Mary as Mother. One recent commenter on an internet post said:
I think there is definitely a correlation. In my own case, my father was rather distant (spent his energies in various get-rich-quick schemes) and my mother is an alcoholic. I became an atheist, quietly (they never knew) in my teens.
I’m now back Home, but I have a hard time with God as Father — oh, not intellectually (I’m solid there) but in terms of any emotional attachment — the heart just isn’t involved. Nor do I have any idea how to regard Mary as my Mother — again, I accept the concept intellectually, but there simply is no attachment. I have no idea how to change this at all — I just trust that God will forgive me my lack of love, as I truly do want to love Him and His Mother. I just don’t know how. (4)
This suggests that negative reactions to emotionally abusive or absent mothers also influence us spiritually.
But — presuming we can actually form an attachment to a spiritual mother- don’t Catholics have a sufficient mother figure in Mary? Why do we need to speak of God as mother?
Mary is a wonderful spiritual mother to us. Yet Mary is not God nor any part of God. In fact Catholics know that it is blasphemous to call Mary God. So she is not a divine mother; a divine mother is different.
If Mary really were sufficient as a spiritual mother, we wouldn’t expect to see John Paul II put forward the maternal image of God as he did. For it is just about impossible to imagine a more ardent or devoted lover of Mary than he was!
It’s well known that Karol Wojtyla lost his mother at a very early age. Soon afterward he asked the Blessed Virgin to become his mother. He put Totus Tuus (All Yours) on his episcopal coat of arms out of devotion to her. After the assassination attempt against him in 1981, he credited her with deflecting the deadly bullet from his heart. We can find a similar robust devotion to Mary in the other two Popes I have mentioned. So we can’t say that it was a lack of devotion to the motherhood of Mary that led them to speak of God as mother. Evidently, sometimes only a divine Mother will do.
Still, many have as much difficulty with the idea of God as Mother as they do with God as Father. Given that our sense of the motherhood as well as fatherhood of God may need healing, I hope we can learn something of what divine motherhood is like and how it differs from the neo-pagan conception of Gaia and the Sacred Feminine.
So I plan to make “God as Father and mother” the subject of my next few posts. We will learn something of what John Paul I, John Paul II and Benedict XVI have thought on this subject.
I think it’s important to stress that I am not striving to “replace God the Father with God the Mother” as some good Catholics fear – and some feminists are actually trying to do. I want to explore the maternal images of God that exist in the Bible that have come to be an important though unacknowledged part of the papal Magisterium and how they can affect our spiritual lives.
So next time I will start with the teaching of John Paul I.
NOTES
(1) John Paul II, Crossing the Threshold of Hope, paperback ed., (New York: Knopf, 1995, 2003), pp. 225-26.
(2) Paul C. Vitz, Faith of the Fatherless: The Psychology of Atheism; Dallas: Spence Publishing Co, 2009).
(3) Angelus address, September 10, 1978; L’Osservatore Romano [Italian ed], 11-12 September 1978.
Pausing to look at all the sights on our way to Jerusalem. . . Mainly about faith, the Church, film, writing, famous Christian authors, and anything else I'm interested in at the moment.
The photo above was taken at St. Peter's Basilica in Rome in March 2007.
Quote of the Month
"Jesus stands for all victims of brute force. In the twentieth century itself we have seen again how inventive human cruelty can be; how cruelty, in the act of destroying the image of man in others, dishonors and destroys that image in itself. The fact that the Son of God took all this upon himself in exemplary manner, as the "Lamb of God", is bound to make us shudder at the cruelty of man, on one hand, and make us think carefully about ourselves, how far we are willing to stand by as cowardly or silent onlookers, or how far we share responsibility ourselves. On the other side, it is bound to transform us and to make us rejoice in God. He has put himself on the side of the innocent and the suffering and would like to see us standing there too."
Joseph Ratzinger, God and the World with Peter Seewald
