I, Paul, am already being poured out like a libation, and the time of my departure is at hand. I have competed well; I have finished the race; I have kept the faith.
From now on the crown of righteousness awaits me,
which the Lord, the just judge,
will award to me on that day, and not only to me, but to all who have longed for his appearance.
From now on the crown of righteousness awaits me,
which the Lord, the just judge,
will award to me on that day, and not only to me, but to all who have longed for his appearance.
Technically, today’s solemnity is a holy day of obligation in the Roman Catholic Church; it has not been observed as such in the United States since 1840. On this day we remember the martyrdom of Rome’s most important and influential apostles, Saints Peter and Paul.
Martyrdom seems to be a ham-fisted way to suppress a movement. It is more impulsive than calculated; and often ineffective. Rome never figured that out. They executed Christians for three centuries, inspiring many generations with the Blood of Martyrs, until the Emperor became a Christian!
This world’s authorities have found better ways to coopt and neutralize the challenge of the Church. Thomas Jefferson’s “wall” between the Church and State allowed priests and ministers to deal in “spiritual matters,” leaving politics, economics, war, and other substantial matters to the government.Occasionally, however, the churches respond to moral issues with spiritual movements that cannot be suppressed. In the nineteenth century, American Christians, following the lead of many European nations, revolted against the institution of slavery. Their cries for “abolition” met the resistance of a civil war. That movement went on to inspire the prohibition of alcohol, women’s equality, and civil rights. Today the impetus for the rights of aliens and refugees, convicts, the unborn, the elderly and dying often begins in the churches. These movements, stigmatized as leftist, are only encouraged by rightist reactions.
However, demands for civil rights and human dignity are not the sole purpose of the church. Like poetry and the arts, our uselessness is vital. Our purpose is to worship God.
We do that in public and in private, in groups and alone, with our work and our idleness, our study and our recreation. Even wasted hours like Saint Paul’s periodic incarcerations serve the Lord if the Lord has assigned them to us.
That “purposeless” dimension of religion is often overlooked as purpose-driven people try to rationalize and exploit its potential. It is difficult to invite people, especially needy, lost souls, to “come pray with us” without making promises we cannot keep. The sick might not recover; the homeless might remain on the street; alcoholics will relapse despite their daily prayer.
We believe our God is faithful despite many bitter disappointments; and our continual prayer is the greatest proof of God’s fidelity. The Roman church certainly prayed for the safe release of Peter and Paul and hundreds of others before they were martyred. They found comfort in burying their bodies, and reassurance as they honored their graves. Saint Peter’s Cathedral, the world’s largest, is built over his tomb, a grand mausoleum for many popes.
During this age of resurgent racism and nationalism, and declining cooperation among nations, Christians the world over feel like they are already being poured out like a libation. We seem to toil in vain for nothing, and for naught spend our strength, yet our right is with the LORD and our recompense is our God. We keep the faith of the martyrs.
No comments:
Post a Comment
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.