On
the only time I ever theologically challenged a Bishop
He was a warm, friendly auxiliary Bishop of a very
large Eastern Archdiocese. He loved priest parties especially when he sang
melancholy Irish Ditties. He never pulled rank but joyously relished being a Bishop,
especially a teaching one. He was enormously popular with clergy
and laity, Catholic or otherwise. His open, life loving spirit was instantly
attractive. Surprisingly to me, he had a powerful, lifelong,
pervasive love affair with a young nun from Normandy who was called the Little
Flower or St Therese of Lisieux. He read every book, article, comment, letter
or evaluation of her he could find. He devoured and savored her remarkable skill
in finding a simple way to love God pragmatically with intensity and profound
passion. In our priestly circle, he was
known as the ‘Guru’ of the Little Flower. He really “knew” The Little One.
years probing, questioning, challenging, thinking,
experiencing reality. One of the occupational hazards of studying the psychological
is that it sets one up for imprudence in entering mine fields. Psychology can
make one over confident and hence vulnerable.
This was so in my case with this wonderful Bishop.
I had met the Bishop one day at a local restaurant
where I was feting my mother who was visiting me from Seattle. Since they were both
loaded with Gaelic charm, laughter and an inbuilt tendency to outdo any other,
they spent what seemed to me to be a bit too much
time jousting and competing. My mother was pretty and loved to flirt with handsome men (in or out of dog collars).When
they finished their little game
of Irish interpersonal competition , I
eagerly and somewhat impatiently leaped into the conversation with what I
considered “important” insightful material about the French saint. I had recently read a fascinating book on
Therese written by a woman psychiatrist who made a core point that this young
girl was the perfect model for this
tormented and highly neurotic era. I was
anxious both to impress and please the Bishop by expanding his repertoire of “The
Little One” and exhibiting my own understanding of her depth. But instead of impressing and pleasing him, we wound up in a debate and a vigorous
difference of opinion on his
specialty !!! Our meeting was so intense, we continued it by
mail. In one of his letters he skillfully patted me on the head with a little
implicit praise while simultaneously negating my dogged resistant stance. He wrote
“I feel almost silly in daring to explain Therese to Jim Lloyd. I hope I have
her right.” He then proceeded in a
scholarly, objective and convincing way to show me what a dumb-dumb I had been
about this marvelous young nun.
I had argued in the fashion of my childhood wherein
I gloried in the collection of do-good
goodies. When some jackass of a kid insulted, harmed or slighted me in any way,
instead of whacking him in his big fat mouth, I had adopted the practice
of “offering it up” fully believing that each time I made such an act
of the will, the Good Lord by some kind of celestial accounting was adding it to all my
good works. Similarly when I did the
“good” things, helping the ungrateful, sacrificing
for someone more needy than I, the healthy submission to His Will,
offering unsolicited help to another, there was no need for exhibitionistic
behavior since I believed a la the
gospel reading on Ash Wednesday, God
knew all about it anyway. Those yokels (as I saw them in my arrogant manner) who trumpeted
their virtues on the street corners of life, already had their reward. In that
way, I thought, on my “superior” intellectual plateau, I was cooperating, substantively in some way,
to my eternal salvation. I saw the whole
structure as a kind of bank into which I
deposited what I called my “ brownie points” which I believed ( and probably still do) would be trotted out, on my behalf, when I appear
before the Lord for my personal judgment. However, while, as I note, my
theological expertise is pedestrian, I do understand the absurdity of both the
quietistic and the pelegian. How
nonsensical to think I need do nothing after making the great act of Belief and
Trust in the Saviour! How primitive to think that I can effect my own salvation
by the force of my own will and my powerful good intentions with little or no
Divine aid! My Protestant friends almost
faint at my simplistic reductionism.
I know, Bishop, that no human being, could make the
sacrifice needed for the healing of
Adam’s sin. Not St. Francis of
Assisi nor St. Teresa of Avila
nor Mother Teresa nor Paul or Peter. Not Ignatius of Antioch
or St. Sebastian. Not even our glorious Blessed Virgin, the very Mother
of God. No collection of many or all
the holy ones of all time would be enough to make adequate atonement. To offer God back to God clearly needs a Divine constituent. Jesus on the Cross, to be specific!
How often during Lent the prayers at Mass speak of
the Reward for acts of virtue. How often the word ‘Achieve” appears in
Scripture, in spiritual writings and commentaries of spiritual directors…as in
2 Peter where he, our first Pope, clearly
states: “You are achieving, Faith’s goal, your salvation”. Can I be blamed if I see such proximity here
between achieve (work) and salvation? Are
my poor attempts at pleasing God “nothing” in my hope for everlasting
happiness? ‘Scusa me’ my dear Bishop, my
abject apology, my beloved Little Flower, but I have to say Balderdash! Pragmatically and existentially, it is my own insight
which has, under God, and with His gracious help, given me courage to reach
beyond my grasp throughout my long life. It is for this precise reason that the woman
psychiatrist mentioned earlier in this essay sees Therese as the model for the buffeted soul of this
era. Therese can give some courage to the
little guy, so that in the colossus which is our world, he can become really aware of his own value before the Lord.
I blink when I realize that there must be something
of my own neurotic self which inclines me to debate my betters! But, also, obviously there must be some kind
of congruence between these apparently opposing positions. Wasn’t I taught to
work as if everything depended on me and to pray because everything depended on
God? But do I misread Luther? Arrogant shrink that
I am! Of course, I do. I am no
scholar. Perhaps it is my over developed
tendency to want to see good and the worthwhile in everything? Perhaps a
principle of logic might help---the principle of the excluded middle! Or something.
However, my resistance is re enforced when so much
of my Scriptural prayer seems to hit me again and again with calls for synchronicity
between my behavior and my reach for virtue! I boggled this morning at
Mass when I read in the second Eucharistic prayer that
“we may merit to be co heirs in
eternal life.” I boggled this
morning as I heard confessions of wonderful religious women and heard myself
say: “ whatever good you do
and evil you endure may be cause
for the remission of your sins, the increase of grace, and the rewards of eternal life.” Good works and salvation?
And yet….and yet…
-End-
1 comment:
An excellent reflection, Father! Yes, we have to avoid the pitfalls both of quietism and Pelagianism. The notion that seems prevalent among Evangelical Protestants of "once saved, always saved" seems to me patent nonsense. Good works are needful! As Our Blessed Lord himself said, "You are My friends if you keep My commandments."
Of course, without God's grace we can't do a thing! The comparison suggests itself that our souls are akin to automobiles, and that God's grace is the fuel -- freely given, "without money and without price" (cf. Isaiah 55), not at $2.19 a gallon! (Of course, when we drive, we have to obey traffic laws, and be sober, et cetera. But without the fuel in the tank, we're not going anywhere!)
Thank you, Fr Lloyd, for writing. It's always good to see this blog updated.
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