Читать книгу Enfolded in Christ - John-Francis Friendship - Страница 11
Оглавление1. What Do You Seek?
A passion for God
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In the name of our Lord we bid you remember the greatness of the trust that is now to be committed to your charge. Remember always with thanksgiving that the treasure now to be entrusted to you is Christ’s own flock, bought by the shedding of his blood on the cross. It is to him that you will render account for your stewardship of his people. (Ordination of Priest: The Declarations)
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O God, you are my God, for you I long;
For you my soul is thirsting.
My body pines for you
Like a dry, weary land without water.
(Psalm 62.1)
It was the summer of ’65, the Rolling Stones were ‘Top of the Pops’ and The Sound of Music had just been released to rapturous audiences. I was 19, newly confirmed and a deeply enthusiastic Christian for whom the faith blazed out and consumed all else. A year later, I read a novel called The Cardinal and to say I was inspired would be an understatement. The book concerns one man’s struggle with a vocation to the priesthood and the heroic way he eventually lived that out in the slums of New York, an account which awoke the seed of my own calling. Years later, I discovered that St Ignatius had had a similar experience when reading the lives of Sts Francis and Dominic, to which his response had been: ‘If they can do such things, so can I!’ Thus began the story of my – long and somewhat tortuous – journey to priesthood. Others will have their own. But what is common for all priests, I trust, is that we have a sense of being called into an ever-deepening relationship with the Lord who graciously shares with us his vocation.
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OUR PRIMARY CALLING
Life has taken me along many and varied paths where people and places have been formative, not least during 25 years of Franciscan religious life and the subsequent time as a parish priest. On first joining the Anglican Franciscans, I came across some words by the then Minister General, Br Geoffrey SSF. He asked a group of novices, as had St Benedict the founder of Western monasticism, to consider why they had come – a question equally applicable to any consideration of the priesthood. Was it because they thought Franciscans preached well and ran good missions? Or because they felt a need for community? Or were sickened and alarmed by the world? Or wanted to help people in need?
‘It is not wrong’, he went on to say, ‘to have any or all of these motives in your mind as you come and seek to join us. It may be that in being here all these things will be achieved. But not one of these is entirely adequate as a motive. There is one motive which must be over and above all these subsidiary motives and which must be your consuming passion if you are to become a true Friar: I come to seek God.’ (‘Vocation’, SSF)
Now I realize that reflection concerning our primary calling to seek God also applies to all Christians, but the priest, like the religious, is looked upon as someone who has made an explicit response to share their life with Jesus (Mark 3.13; cf. John 17.24). However, do you notice the way that calling can become buried by either the role we have or the work we do? Many of those exercising the ministry of spiritual direction have come to realize the need many have to rediscover their primary, personal vocation.
The ‘personal vocation’
I love the description of human life as the ‘vocation to faithfulness’.1 But, for many, vocation is normally considered in relation to the outward expression of a particular ministry: ‘[A vocation is a] particular calling to serve God and all people through one of the Church’s authorized lay or ordained ministries’.2 It’s also often understood in terms of a call to live the religious life or a ‘lay’ vocation to nursing, teaching, medicine etc. But in his book Discovering Your Personal Vocation, Herbert Alphonso SJ goes further. He writes about the importance of discovering our ‘primary calling’,3 which lies at the heart of who we are and is utterly unique to each of us. It’s that vocation which we’re to live out whether we find ourselves in parishes, schools, offices or wherever. God has written it on the palm of his hand (Isa. 49.16), and as we listen deeply to him we realize our calling. Emerging from the ‘core-self’, it’s deeper than any ministerial vocation but gives it life and meaning. When I first heard these wonderful words of St Jean-Baptiste-Marie Vianney, ‘the priesthood is the love of the heart of Jesus’, they resonated in a place which I now realize is where that ‘personal vocation’ is heard.
To the greater glory of God
As that sense of vocation develops and we enter into the process of testing that call through training and initial formation, the foundations of our faith will be exposed, an experience that can be very hard for some. From time to time, I sit with ordinands who are going through this ‘stripping’ and have to assure them that this is quite normal and, in the end, it’s in order that their lives might reveal the glory of God in Christ (cf. 2 Cor.13.5). As tough as it may be, welcome this stripping! Yes, the journey will be hard and painful at times, and as the foundations of our faith are tested it may become apparent that they’re rooted more on external supports (Scripture, tradition, the witness of others, etc.) than on Christ. If our faith is determined by externals, whether Scripture or the Church, we’ll need to embark on a process of owning it for ourselves. At this moment we need to realize God’s utter love for us and deepen our desire to return that love as the old is stripped away that the new might emerge. Prayer is one of the places where this needs to be done as we present our confusions to God, holding on to the simple fact that we are loved and precious in God’s sight. Growing is a painful process (1 Cor. 13.11), and it takes time! Many years ago, my confessor told me to be patient with the process, keep to a simple rule of prayer and don’t get trapped by despair if entering into a period of confusion. You may be tempted to return to the certainties of spiritual childhood, but they may have to be left behind if we are to be of use to others. God calls us on a vocational pilgrimage where we must leave the known for the unknown if we are to grow into Christ. What matters is what God is doing in the heart, something the psalms, especially 139, so often express.
Of course, the ‘core-self’, the heart of who we are, is where the image of God is to be discovered (Gen. 2.7; 2 Cor. 3.3). From that place all true spirituality emerges as water gushes up from the depths of a well (John 4.7–15). Ignatius Loyola, in his Spiritual Exercises, recalls the foundational importance of this place where the love of God is to be known, saying that ‘God created human beings to praise, reverence, and serve God and be happy with him forever.’ Behind all he wrote and lived was the desire that life should be lived ‘to the greater glory of God’ – Ad Maiorem Dei Gloriam (AMDG) – which he took as his motto. This is what you and I were created for, and it is when we are living out of that expression of praise that we’re most fully human.
I love you, Lord, my strength,
my rock, my fortress, my saviour.
My God is the rock where I take refuge;
my shield, my mighty help, my stronghold.
(Psalm 18.1f.)
Ignatius also observes that that foundation needs to be firm if it is to support our journey with God into the fullness of our being, something that must be particularly true for those in ministry. We need to accept that, sinners though we are, we’re loved by the God who made us in his image and likeness. Sadly, what happened during their formative years means that some people are not sure, deep within, that they are loved. And if you had to ‘earn’ the love of another, no wonder there will be some, charged with telling the story of God’s unconditional love, who will not have the certainty of that and who will preach that it’s conditional. It isn’t of course. It’s unconditional; it’s all grace.
The wounded healer
Because of the abuse they suffered when they were young, some people find this godly, unconditional love hard to accept. Indeed, their notion of love itself might have been profoundly marred. Others may have been scarred by constantly failing to live up to the expectations of parents or might have experienced rejection by peers. We all know that abuse comes in many forms – physical, emotional, sexual or spiritual – but all involve misuses of power and many have to live with deep, and sometimes hidden, wounds, wounds for which it might be difficult to find complete healing. But, apart from our need to address any such forms of abuse through the appropriate channels, it can also become a source of healing for others. Much of our life in Christ involves the acceptance of our woundedness, seeking appropriate means of healing and then allowing that place of woundedness to be the place where compassion grows. The wounded priest can be a real witness to Christ, the wounded healer, if we can allow the pain we carry to be transformed into compassion for others and begin to trust them as we trust God. This can be a long and difficult process, but therapeutic ministries, including spiritual ones, can provide great help. We’ll look at some of those in Chapter 8.
Unfortunately, there are those who, for whatever reason, hide their wounds. Clergy, in particular, may be tempted to put on an act or wear a mask to show the world a ‘happy face’. But it can be a face concealing insecurity, depression, emptiness in the heart, etc. Although we’re called to live ‘to the greater glory of God’, some of us act out a life that drives us harshly to the point where our humanity becomes obscured. If a priest recognizes this is happening to them and they’re beginning to develop a hardened approach to life, they can explore this with a spiritual director, for such a face often hides deep pain.
In a similar way, there are pastors who are quite hard on others, always believing they are right and keen to impose their will: such people are difficult taskmasters, both to others and themselves. I hope they’re able, like all of us, to feel that compassionate gaze of God and to learn humility, something we’ll be exploring. Sadly, there are curates or parishioners who are bullied by their vicar, who believes he or she has a hotline to God. In cases like this, they might be encouraged to turn to the appropriate channels to address this form of abuse. We all need to remember that at the end of our days we shall not be judged by our success or how many souls we’ve saved, by our popularity, erudition, intelligence or whatever but, as St John of the Cross is reputed to have said, ‘by our loving’.
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The compassionate Heart of Jesus
One of the greatest images that reminds us of this truth, that speaks to everyone of love, is the image of the heart, and the Church is fortunate in having a particular image of the heart that speaks of God’s everlasting, compassionate love: the Sacred Heart. It may be unfamiliar to some non-Catholics, a bit too ‘Roman’ perhaps, but did you know that the Sacred Heart inspired John Wesley, whose conversion experience began when his own heart was ‘deeply warmed’? Or that the founders of the first Franciscan community for men in the Church of England dedicated their community to the Divine Compassion – another way of speaking of the Sacred Heart? One of its founding members, Fr Andrew SDC (1869–1946), wrote this gentle meditation:
To rest a tired head upon Thy Heart,
And to be still –
To come to Thee from the whole world apart
And learn Thy Will –
And in that will, because it is Thy will, to live and die,
Knowing Thy love and will are one eternally.
That be my way of prayer –
that brings me where Thou art –
Heaven is there.4
It’s of primary importance that we seek to be aware of, and in touch with, the heart of who we are, for the inner life of the priest will determine everything. The Oracle at Delphi is reputed to have said that the greatest wisdom is to ‘know thyself’, but that can be quite challenging. I recall becoming very angry when I first began to reflect on those words because they suggested I needed to face up to aspects of myself I’d been avoiding and was now trying to get rid of. This self-awareness can awaken at any time so, to make sure that any distraction we might experience isn’t too overwhelming, we always need to consider the inclination of our heart. Is it directed towards the Heart of the One who desires us and who will always love us? Or something else? As a Benedictine monk once said to someone exploring their vocation: ‘Brother, you must make your stability in the Heart of Jesus.’5 That’s worth chewing on: Christ must be the heart of the priest’s heart whether that priest be celibate, single or partnered. If he isn’t, other loves can easily move in to occupy the void.
There’s a story told of a priest in Africa who was translating St John’s Gospel into the local dialect. There were many problems in finding the right way to translate some of the English words, one such being to ‘believe’. There was no exact word in the dialect. So he asked one of the locals for help and, after hearing the priest explain what the word meant, the man said ‘To believe means to listen with the heart.’ That’s what the priest is called to do. ‘What is God doing with your heart?’ is the question that sometimes gets asked in spiritual direction for, as the potter shapes the clay into its desired shape and form, can there be any greater desire for the priest than that their heart might be re-formed into the Heart of Jesus? In a sermon to priests in 2016, Pope Francis said:
The Heart of the Good Shepherd is not only the Heart that shows us mercy, but is itself mercy. There the Father’s love shines forth; there I know I am welcomed and understood as I am; there, with all my sins and limitations, I know the certainty that I am chosen and loved. Contemplating that Heart, I renew my first love: the memory of that time when the Lord touched my soul and called me to follow him, the memory of the joy of having cast the nets of our life upon the sea of his word.’ (cf. Luke 5.5) … Contemplating the Heart of Christ we are faced with the fundamental question of our priestly life: Where is my heart directed? It is a question we need to keep asking, daily, weekly … Where is my heart directed? Our ministry is often full of plans, projects and activities: from catechesis to liturgy, to works of charity, to pastoral and administrative commitments. Amid all these, we must still ask ourselves: What is my heart set on? … Where is it directed, what is the treasure that it seeks? For as Jesus says: ‘Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.’ (Matthew 6.21)6
Divine Compassion must be the aroma of the priest.7
Jesus, our Great High Priest
Our contemplation of him who was given the dignity of priesthood (Heb. 8.4–6) reminds us that we must ‘refer all good to the Lord God most High and Supreme; let us acknowledge that all good belongs to Him, and let us give thanks for all to Him from whom all good proceeds’.8 Our calling is to proclaim him who is the ‘reflection of God’s glory’, so we are to be known as women and men living lives of great and deep thankfulness, who, at the end of our days, will come before him who is our friend, brother, judge and saviour. We’ll be delving further into this later on.
At the end of our days
Priests, of all people, need to keep their eyes fixed on the goal they desire, as the writer of the Letter to the Hebrews reminds us (12.2). There are people who can exercise many important ministries but, as we’ve noted, the priest’s attention needs to be focused on God to whom we’ll be called to render account at the end of our days. So in a real way, we must set one foot on this side of eternity and one foot on the other. Called to live in the poverty of Christ who emptied himself of himself, abandoning his life to death, we need to hold lightly to the things of this earth and seek to store up for ourselves treasures in heaven. This is what we must keep in mind (Phil. 2.5): our deepest security, the foundation on which all else is built, is to be found in that awareness of being the beloved of God.
All this is disclosed most fully in the Eucharist. As stewards of that great Mystery, priests have the tremendous privilege of standing where Christ is ‘at the right hand of God’ (Heb. 8.1). Called also to show forth his glory in the ‘here and now of life’, they inhabit the role of the One who presides at the Supper of the Lamb, that eternal Liturgy which is not ours to celebrate but his.
Are you in charge of a parish? If so, do not neglect the parish of your own soul, do not give yourself to others so completely that you have nothing left for yourself. You have to be mindful of your people without becoming forgetful of yourself. (St Charles Borromeo 1538–84)
So we’re to live out of thankfulness – (eucharistia) – until our lives become one hymn of praise. I was privileged to know a great Franciscan brother, Bill Lash,9 who, on his deathbed, simply said: ‘Rejoice’ before dying. When he was nearing death, St Francis said to his brothers, ‘I have done what was mine to do; may Christ teach you what you are to do.’ We place great emphasis on the start of a ministry; we are prepared for it, trained for it, and the Induction or Licensing service in the Church of England is usually lengthy, solemn and rich in meaning. But isn’t it striking that, even after decades of liturgical revision, no liturgies have been created for the close of a ministry? So as no formal service has been produced, a Liturgy for Praying Our Farewells is included in Appendix 2. In my beginning is my end.
It’s natural that every priest hopes to look back on a ministry and see signs of fruitfulness, hoping their role will be recognized and, maybe, celebrated. But regardless of that we should never forget how ‘success’ in these terms is not quite what Jesus had in mind. Nor that when he died only his mother, one disciple and a couple of friends remained at his side. His declaration ‘It is accomplished!’ invites us to consider what we wish to ‘accomplish’? We can do no better than turn to the Great High Priestly (Farewell) Prayer of Jesus (John 17.1–26) to realize what he gave thanks for as we meditate on his declaration that the ‘hour has come’ (17.1), that ‘hour’ which was prophesied in his very first Sign at Cana which foreshadowed that Supper when he revealed the new wine of the age to come. In his book, Markings, Dag Hammarskjöld, Secretary-General of the United Nations until his untimely death in 1961, records some simple words with a profoundly Eucharistic undertone, which many would take for their own: ‘For all that has been, thanks. For all that shall be, yes.’
‘In my beginning is my end … in my end is my beginning.’ Even as a ministry begins, it is our end that needs to inform us. Ministers of the Gospel need to remember and hold on to St Paul’s striking assertion: ‘If for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied’ (1 Cor. 15.19). Wherever we’re on the path to God, we should never forget that we’re called to seek union with him whose loving desire for us never ceases (Lam. 3.23).
Accustom yourself continually to make many acts of love,
for they enkindle and melt the soul.
(St Teresa of Avila)
Questions for reflection
How am I responding to God’s invitation to sit in His compassionate gaze? In what ways might I need to give that greater attention?
What gives meaning and life to my vocation? What was it about Jesus that attracted me? What image of him might now emerge in my heart? Is there any other person in Scripture or among the saints who resonates with my sense of vocation?
For what am I thankful? What do I sense I am called to ‘accomplish’? How does this relate to the gospel? To what, as a priest, do I ‘look forward’?
Notes
1 Edward Schillebeeckx, Christ the Sacrament of the Encounter with God, Rowman & Littlefield, 1963, p. 13.
2 Vocation – Do You Have a Calling?, https://churchsupporthub.org/vocations/about-vocations/exploring-your-vocation.
3 Herbert Alphonso, Discovering Your Personal Vocation: The Search for Meaning through the Spiritual Exercises, Paulist Press, 2001.
4 The Poems of Fr. Andrew SDC, Mowbray, 1950.
5 ‘Frère, tu dois faire ta stabilité dans le Coeur de Jésus’, spoken in1975 by Dom Nathanaël Carron de La Morinais OSB at the Sacro Speco of Subiaco Abbey, Italy, to Dom Mark Daniel Kirby OSB.
6 Homily on Jubilee of Mercy for Priests, 3 June 206, https://w2. vatican.va/content/francesco/en/homilies/2016/documents/papa- francesco_20160603_omelia-giubileo-sacerdoti.html (© Libreria Editrice Vaticana).
7 The author.
8 First Rule of St Francis, 1221.
9 Bill Lash (1905–86) had, along with Fr Jack Winslow and Fr Algy SSF, been a member of the first Anglo-Indian ashram, the Christa Prema Seva (Community of the Servants of Christ), in Pune, India, before moving to the UK where he lived at Hilfield Friary.
