You Athenians, I see that in every respect
you are very religious. For as I walked around looking carefully at your shrines, I even discovered an altar inscribed, ‘To an Unknown God.’ What therefore you unknowingly worship, I proclaim to you. The God who made the world and all that is in it….
We might read Saint Paul’s opening remarks to the Athenians as tongue-in-cheek. He knows they do not worship “an unknown god.” If they worship any god it’s little more than a formality, for the sake of convention. But they are a curious lot; and, like many Americans, they are eager to entertain weird religious notions, so long as they don't ask much of believers. Perhaps they’ll listen to Paul's story about Jesus.
As I have learned to practice our Catholic faith, I’ve been impressed by the writings, legends, and teachings of Saint Francis of Assisi. He had little formal education; he learned mostly from hearing preachers and teachers, rather than from reading. He was not a critical person; he didn't stand outside the Church criticizing its beliefs and structures.
Like any adult, he saw hypocrisy and the ways powerful people use to manipulate symbols. But he never lost faith in symbols. When a priest used his position to satisfy his greed, avarice, or lust the Little Poor Man recognized the sin but loved the priesthood, nonetheless. He urged his disciples, both men and women, to honor the Most Blessed Sacrament, even in the hands of a corrupt cleric.
Francis listened to the Old and New Testaments with a willing thirst; he wanted to know, “What will God say to me today?” If he heard the same thing three days in a row, he received it with the same enthusiasm each day, for the Word of God is an inexhaustible well. No one can drink it dry.
In our postmodern consciousness we often distance ourselves from our faith with irony. Irony might say, “The Catholic Church said we should not eat meat on Friday but that was only to support the fish merchants of Rome." Irreligious, they cannot imagine the religious traditions of penance and personal sacrifice.
This critical attitude usually accompanies cynicism. In reply to a teaching of the Church, it suspects an ulterior motive. “It’s the priests' craving for power!” Cynicism sees no sincerity or piety. It cannot imagine the Holy Spirit moving people to give without counting the cost.
The Athenians scoffed at the Good News that a crucified man had been raised from the dead. They knew better than to accept such nonsense. They regarded the apostle as a fool or a conman and laughed as they walked away.
As we hear the Gospel we ask the Lord to open wide our hearts and help us set aside all suspicion, irony, and cynicism. We want to drink the Word of God. If the message also contains the dregs of unpleasant human interference, we ask the Spirit to help us filter it without judgment or recriminations. As we drink the Blood of Jesus, we ignore whatever impurities may have been in the wine.
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I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.
Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.
I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.
You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.