Archive for the ‘Catholicism’ Category
Why the Confiteor is one of the most beautiful and important parts of the Mass
The section of the Roman Catholic Mass called the Penitential Rite is insufficiently appreciated. This part contains, among other things, the prayer known as the Confiteor. Its name comes from the first line, which, in Latin, is Confiteor Deo omnipotente…, in English translated as “I confess to Almighty God….” The Confiteor is the source of the phrase, mea culpa (mea culpa, mea culpa, me maxima culpa — i.e., one confesses that one has sinned “through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault.”
A special virtue of this section of the Liturgy is that it is an opportunity for members of the Church to pray for one another. When I was younger, I understood the Confiteor, along with the Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison (Lord have mercy! Christ have mercy!) which comes later, as being mainly concerned with seeking forgiveness for ones own sins. But with age comes a growth in instinctive concern for others; you look around and see what difficulties and burdens others bear, and, if you have a heart, you naturally want them to be helped. As this charitable concern develops, the Mass takes on new meaning and importance.
Whose soever sins ye remit, they are remitted unto them; and whose soever sins ye retain, they are retained. (John 20:23)
Just think of what the verse above implies. Look at the suffering and the burdens others bear — whether those be their sins, or the consequences of those sins, or the guilt and shame their sins produce. And then consider the possibility that you may be an agent in removing those burdens and effecting their healing. Have you never noticed how real benefits may come to others as the result of your prayers? What if no-one else on the entire the planet is praying for these individuals? That may easily be the case! Can you not bring yourself — indeed, can you not resist the compassionate urge — to pray for them?
To give a personal example, suppose I’m at Mass and I see people in the congregation with serious obesity problems; these days, I’m afraid, that’s an all too common experience. Now God has given me the gift of physical fitness and a strong personal motivation to exercise. This is a grace not everyone has. It is a blessing, and I’m extremely grateful for it. But I have been overweight before, and therefore know that these people suffer very much because of obesity. It’s perfectly natural, then, for me to pray for them.
Now it might be objected, “Aren’t you being judgmental here? On what basis are you apparently equating their health issues with sin?” The answer is that I’m taking a very broad view of sin; it might be better to call the issue here moral imperfection, or even an insufficiency of moral strength. We need to strip ‘sin’ of its judgmental connotations in any case. The original Greek word for sin is hamartia, which means ‘missing the mark.’ It’s appropriate, then, to see the alleviation of obesity, depression, substance abuse, or many other things people suffer from as subjects of prayer in the Penitential Rite.
It is of some interest to note changes in the liturgy apropos of this. Before the reforms of the 1960’s and 70’s, the Mass was, of course, still said in Latin. People may not remember this detail, but in the traditional Tridentine Mass the Confiteor was actually prayed twice. First the priest recited it to the assistant(s) or altar servers, confessing his sinfulness and pleading for the intercession of “Mary ever Virgin, blessed Michael the Archangel, blessed John the Baptist, the holy Apostles Peter and Paul” and “all the Saints.” In conclusion he further asked, “you brethren, to pray to the Lord our God for me.”
In response, the assistant(s) — representing the entire congregation — prayed,
May Almighty God have mercy upon you, forgive you your sins, and bring you to life everlasting.
To which the priest said, “Amen.”
Then the assistant(s) recited the Confiteor, changing only the last phrase by asking “you Father, to pray to the Lord our God for me.” The priest then prayed the same response as the assistant(s) had to his Confiteor, to which the latter responded, “Amen.” Then the priest, making the sign of the cross, prayed:
May the Almighty and merciful God grant us pardon, absolution, and remission of our sins.
To which the server(s) replied, “Amen.”
This detail actually signifies something momentous: that the priest and congregation, symbolized by the assistant(s), are praying, interceding with God, for each other’s forgiveness.
The present form of the Roman Catholic Mass includes only one Confiteor, said jointly by the priest and congregation. In theory, nothing has changed spiritually: all are praying both for themselves and for each other. But the present liturgy leaves this more ambiguous. If not instructed in the matter, people may misunderstand, and think they are only praying for their own forgiveness.
At one level, it’s perfectly understandable and ordinary for people to be so intent on confessing their own sins and seeking forgiveness that the reciprocity of the Confiteor escapes attention. Yet Christians in this respect are called on to be more than ordinary. They are called to be priests, a priestly people (1 Peter 2:5–10; cf. Exodus 19:6); and one vital function of a priest is to intercede with God for the welfare of others.
Moreover, an exclusively self-oriented confessional attitude fails to recognize a fundamental principle of the psychology of forgiveness, a detail to which Scripture pointedly calls our attention: that forgiving others and being forgiven ourselves are so integrally related as to literally be two aspects of the same thing. Let us recall some relevant passages:
Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed. The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much. (James 5:16)
For if ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you:But if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses. (Matthew 6: 14–15)
Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy. (Matthew 5:7)
Note that we are not just called to forgive those who have trespassed against us, but also those sins others commit that might not involve us at all.
Sometimes we might think that the connection between forgiving and forgiveness is merely a kind of reciprocal justice: if we forgive, then we’ve done a good deed, and our reward is to be forgiven in exactly the same degree. But the connection is actually much stronger. In a sense, our holding onto grudges, or even just a ‘stinginess’ in wishing forgiveness for anyone, automatically carries with it a burden of moral imperfection, if not outright sin. Said another way, the moment we earnestly pray for others’ forgiveness — not just those who have harmed us, but those who need forgiveness in any way and for any reason — we ourselves come into right relation to God and with ourselves. And whatever burdens we have imposed on ourselves by being out of right relation are removed.
This shouldn’t be taken to imply that an awareness of our own sinfulness isn’t terribly important. Quite the opposite: the more cognizant we are of our need for forgiveness, the more enthusiastic and willing we are to forgive others, as this is a small price to pay indeed. If we fully understood this principle, we would beg and thank God for the opportunity to forgive others!
Perhaps at this point some will expect me to suggest that we should restore the Tridentine Mass, but that is by no means my point. In fact, I think the liturgical changes have been, in the main, for the better. It seems sufficient for the Confiteor to be said once — provided that people are aware of all that’s going on. I believe it proper to say that the main focus of ones prayer here should be for others’ forgiveness. That is the object of our prayer. The action of our praying for others is itself implicitly the prayer for our own forgiveness — so that both needs are being met at the same time.
I do believe, however, that, with the present liturgy, special attention needs to be given to instruct people about the dual nature of the Penitential Rite. Further, some things I’ve read online seem to suggest that in certain diocese and/or at certain times, the Confiteor is omitted from masses. If so, then it seems to me very important that whatever is used in its place emphasize and encourage the dual aspect of praying for forgiveness.
I wrote at the outset that this is something momentous, but have yet to fully explain why. Consider this principle of each forgiving another — of striving to do this oneself, and of coming to regularly expect that others approach you in the same way — carried to its logical extreme. That is, imagine a society where this principle became conventional, usual, regular. In that case the whole orientation of the individual towards others and society in general would be transformed, and for the better. Inasmuch as the ability to heal by forgiving is natural, and human beings are naturally social and gregarious, then an ambient recognition of this principle would amount to a revolution in human consciousness, individual and social. We would achieve in practice what is yet only latent and dormant in our collective potential. We would change as a species.
The important 1967 encyclical of Pope Paul VI, Populorum progressio (On the development of peoples) called for, among other things, a new transcendental humanism (§16, §20). In May 2011, Pope Benedict XVI, addressing the faculty of the Catholic University of the Sacred Heart, renewed the call for “a new, integral and transcendent humanism.”
Precisely such a transcendental humanism can be found articulated with great depth, insight, and beauty in the literature of the 19th century American Transcendentalists and Unitarians, many of whom were Christian. I believe that modern Roman Catholics would do well to examine this literature. It is a treasure-trove of ideas and inspiration, and the ‘old religion’ expressed in a form uniquely suited to the American mind.
As an example, below are excerpts from an 1859 discourse by Octavius B. Frothingham, ‘The Christian Consciousness, Its Elements and Expression’. (O. B. Frothingham, Christian Consciousness. Philadelphia, 1859; pp. 3—33).
* * * *
I am the vine, ye are the branches: He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit. (John 15:5a)
“HAVE you ever fairly mastered this thought: That once upon a time, eighteen hundred years ago, what we call Christianity was all gathered up in the person of a single man, who lived and breathed like other men, in the far-off land of Judea, — when Christ was Christianity, and all the Christianity there was on earth? … In that remote corner of the earth, Jesus of Nazareth stands alone, uncomprehended by the few who love him, despised or feared by the few who love him not, unheeded by the many who see in him nothing by which he can be distinguished from common humanity; solitary in person, and solitary in spirit, having little in common with his generation; solitary, with his great Religion folded in the secret place of his own heart. The mighty Truths which the world hail as revelations and build up into confessions, are his private thoughts. The creative forces which have wrought such moral results, and even something like a transformation in the sentiments of the most elevated portion of mankind, are the silent affections of his heart. The regenerating principles which have effected so much towards the growth of a new order of humanity, are the deep convictions of his individual conscience; and profoundly hidden in the experiences of his soul, are the spiritual laws that have since purified the piety and re-constructed the worship of millions of men. In that one peculiar being, as in a seed, [Christendom lies latent.] … The seed fulfils the conditions of all growth. It falls into the ground and dies.
“Ere long the fruit it was to bear, begins to appear. Little clusters of people like grapes on a vine are found in cities both near and remote from the place where he lived. They cling to each other. They grow together as if united by a common life, and attract the notice of all men by the singularity of their worship and behavior…. To them existence is not what it was; the world is not what it was; new thoughts occupy their minds; fresh affections, making old things seem distasteful, are yearning after congenial intercourse; an awakened moral sense abhors the practices in which they had before innocently engaged, and makes another order of the world necessary to their peace and satisfaction; strange hopes have taken hold on their souls; strange aspirations and purposes, which have altered their whole attitude towards their generation. They are one in the sympathy of a common Faith, Hope, and Charity. And what has begotten in these people, this new and singular spirit? They have seen, heard, conversed with, the men to whom this Jesus had communicated himself through some subtle influence which they could neither explain to themselves nor to others. They had no insight into his motives or intentions. Up to the very last hour of his life, they indulged a hope, which all his life long he had been laboring to dispel. His immortal ideas they failed to grasp, while they clung to his less significant words with a tenacity that nothing could loose. Yet, through all their stupidity and prejudice, his spirit had found its way to theirs. His being had bathed them like an atmosphere; had refreshed them like another climate. His character had shed itself like an aroma from his person, and penetrated invisibly to their natures’ roots. The mild radiance of his presence, the beaming of his face, the glance of his eye, the accents of his voice interpreting to their hearts words which their understanding could not apprehend, the indescribable serenity of his mien, so holy and so gracious, all expressed and imparted the spiritual life that was in him, so that when he died, that life was in various forms reproduced in those that knew him, according to their degree of susceptibility. And these, again, borne like seeds on the breath of the Spirit, spread the divine contagion even to distant lands, and made the attributes of the inward Christ visible in multitudes of communions, some of which knew him not, even by name.
“You will understand now what I mean by saying that Christianity was LIVED into the world. It was not built up by any skill in organizing establishments. It was not planted by sheer force of authoritative teaching. Men were not drilled into it, nor indoctrinated into it; they were BORN into it. It came to them as inspiration comes, and the effect of its coming was a new CONSCIOUSNESS, a new motive force, an original stamp of mind, and style of character. In a word, there was another life in the race….
“Christianity, let me repeat, was LIVED into the world. As a life, it reproduced and extended itself. Its tendency, at least, nowhere completely fulfilled, it is true, but everywhere pushing against the obstacles in its path, was to re-animate and re-construct human relations….
“We have heard much lately about the Christian ‘CONSCIOUSNESS,’ as distinct from particular forms of belief or modes of thought; a general state of mind and affection that belongs to all genuine Christians alike, the partaking of which makes one a Christian, the lack of which makes one to be not a Christian; a prevailing and determining spirit, which, having the hidings of its power far down among the roots of human nature, distributes a secret but vital and quickening influence all through the substance of the moral and spiritual being, and diffuses abroad an aroma too delicate to be caught and imprisoned in symbolical books and sacred confessions, yet powerful enough to impress every spiritual sense and stimulate every spiritual desire. I believe there is such a spiritual Consciousness, common to all Christians, and distinguishing them from all who are not Christians more clearly than divines have ever succeeded in doing, while, at the same time, it prevents Christians, however artificially divided among themselves, from falling out finally with one another; a spiritual Consciousness which is nothing more or less than the mind of Jesus organizing itself in humanity….
“These are thoughts, vast, deep, shadowy. They are not dogmas; they are not opinions. They are spoiled and clipped by logical definition. They are spiritual truths, addressing themselves to the higher reason, which each may define for himself who can, or may innocently leave in the indistinctness which the soul best loves. They are inferences from what the Christian regards not as a notion but as a fact, a fact of inward assurance, a great conviction, that abides as a cornerstone, immovable in the deep soil of his heart. They are his translation into thought of a feeling that is deeper than all thought and runs before it.”
* * * *
One must read this material selectively. Along with sublime thoughts are a few prejudices and errors – many American Transcendentalists and Unitarians rejected, along with the harsh doctrines of Calvinism (from whence these movements evolved), many fine and noble elements of traditional Christianity. For example, Frothingham writes,
“Put the intervening centuries by. Let your imaginations brush away, like so much dust on a window-pane, the vast Church that stands between you and him. Disappear, pope, cardinal, and priest; cathedral, chapel, shrine, altar, vestments, symbol, cross and goblet, keys and dove; vanish, creeds of every complexion, sects of every name.”
That is, in his appeal to readers that they consult directly their Reason, Conscience, and intuitions for direct evidences of God, he goes further to question the validity of certain external forms of religion. But remember that if we demand perfection of our saints, we shall have no saints. Despite certain prejudices, many of which are understandable if one considers the historical context, there is much that is saintly in these writings.
This caveat notwithstanding, there are times reading this literature that I am struck with a conviction that, in it, the prisca theologia, the ancient and venerable religion, reached its highest level of literary expression, before the radical materialism of the 20th century eclipsed the spiritual senses. It remains there, providential, evidence of the action of the Holy Spirit in history, for us to consult and build upon.
This Old World religion, brought by the Puritans to New England and developed in the rich soil of village life in colonial America, I recognize as the same spiritual tradition in essence and fundamentals that was transmitted to me by Catholic sisters and priests at the parochial schools I attended as a child.
I should certainly try to follow up this post with more detail about the 19th century American Christian Transcendentalists and Unitarians. One note of general interest to add here is that there is a direct literary and ideological connection between these writers and the Cambridge Platonists of the 17th century. Besides Frothingham, some names of particular interest are William Ellery Channing, James Freeman Clarke, Francis Henry Hedge, and Abiel A. Livermore; but there are dozens more.
Frothingham, Octavius B. Transcendentalism in New England. New York: Putnam, 1876.
Gardiner, Harold C. (Ed.). American Classics Reconsidered: A Christian Appraisal. New York: Scribner, 1958.
Howe, Daniel Walker. The Cambridge Platonists of Old and New England. Church History, 57, No. 4 (Dec., 1988), pp. 470-485. Reprinted as Ch. 7, ‘The Platonic Quest in New England’ in: Daniel Walker Howe, Making the American Self, 189-211. Oxford University Press, 2009 (orig. 1997).
Livermore, Abiel A. Discourses. Boston: Crosby, Nichols & Co., 1854.
Wells, Ronald V. Three Christian Transcendentalists: James Marsh, Caleb Sprague Henry, Frederic Henry Hedge. Columbia University Press, 1943.
<span style=”font-size:x-large;”><span style=”color:brown;”>
The usual Roman Catholic and Anglican belief is that, after death, souls go to Purgatory. This is traditionally envisioned as a purifying fire, though many suggest that ‘fire’ is to be understood in a metaphorical sense, representing a potentially painful purification.
While it is believed that souls of the good will eventually join God in heaven, this would actually happen after the end of the world, the General Resurrection and the Last Judgment. So, even one who lived the most saintly life on earth would not go to heaven immediately, but would need to wait until after end times before receiving his or her final reward.
So what do souls of the good do in the meantime? If they sinned little, why would they remain in Purgatory for a protracted period?
Some theologians suggest that in the intermediate state, that is, the period between death and the General Resurrection, redeemed and sufficiently purified souls may go to not to heaven, but to different place, which is itself pleasant enough to merit the name Paradise.
Scriptural evidence comes from Jesus’ words on the cross to the penitent thief: Verily I say unto thee, To day shalt thou be with me in paradise. (Luke 23:43) Jesus said not “some day” but today the thief would be in Paradise.
Origen (184 – 254 AD), the enigmatic and mystical Church Father from Alexandria, Egypt, conjectured on the intermediate state in his speculative work, On First Principles (De Principiis). He suggested that perhaps the just, after death, go to a place, Paradise, which is a school for souls. He also mentioned an ascent through various spheres of heaven, using some of the same imagery as Gnostics (who were active in Alexandria at the same time, and whose work Origen knew well). There are also associations to Jewish Merkabah mysticism, something which Origen also was exposed to by virtue of his tenure as a teacher in Caesarea, Palestine.
An extract of his work follows. (As Origen’s sentences tend to be long, I’ve parsed them into something like blank verse poetry to aid understanding.)
Origen on the School of Souls
On First Principles, Book 2, Chapter 11, Sections 6-7 (2.11.6-7)
6… I think, therefore, that all the saints who depart from this life
will [first] remain in some place situated on the earth,
which holy Scripture calls paradise,
as in some place of instruction, and,
so to speak, class-room or school of souls,
in which they are to be instructed regarding all the things
which they had seen on earth,
and are to receive also some information respecting
things that are to follow in the future,
as even when in this life they had obtained
in some degree indications of future events,
although through a glass darkly,
all of which are revealed more clearly and distinctly
to the saints in their proper time and place.
If any one indeed be pure in heart, and holy in mind,
and more practised in perception, he will,
by making more rapid progress, [then]
quickly ascend to a place in the air,
and reach the kingdom of heaven,
through those mansions, so to speak,
in the various places which the Greeks
have termed spheres, i.e., globes,
but which holy Scripture has called heavens;
in each of which he will first see clearly what is done there,
and in the second place, will discover the reason
why things are so done:
and thus he will in order pass through all gradations,
following Him who has passed into the heavens,
Jesus the Son of God, who said,
I will that where I am, these may be also.
And of this diversity of places He speaks, when
He says, In My Father’s house are many mansions….
7. When, then, the saints shall have
reached the celestial abodes,
they will clearly see the nature of the stars
one by one,
and will understand
whether they are endued with life,
or their condition, whatever it is.
And they will comprehend also the
other reasons for the works of God,
which He Himself will reveal to them.
For He will show to them, as to children,
the causes of things and the power of His creation,
and will explain why that star was placed
in that particular quarter of the sky,
and why it was separated from another
by so great an intervening space;
what, e.g., would have been the consequence
if it had been nearer or more remote;
or if that star had been larger than this,
how the totality of things would not have remained the same,
but all would have been transformed
into a different condition of being.
And so, when they have finished all those matters
which are connected with the stars,
and with the heavenly revolutions,
they will come to those which are not seen,
or to those whose names only we have heard,
and to things which are invisible,
which the Apostle Paul has informed us are numerous,
although what they are, or what difference may exist among them,
we cannot even conjecture by our feeble intellect.
And thus the rational nature,
growing by each individual step,
not as it grew in this life in flesh, and body, and soul,
but enlarged in understanding and in power of perception,
is raised as a mind already perfect to perfect knowledge,
no longer at all impeded by those carnal senses,
but increased in intellectual growth; and ever gazing purely,
and, so to speak, face to face, on the causes of things, it attains perfection,
firstly, viz., that by which it ascends to (the truth),
and secondly, that by which it abides in it,
having problems and the understanding of things,
and the causes of events, as the food on which it may feast.
For as in this life our bodies grow physically to what they are,
through a sufficiency of food in early life supplying the means of increase,
but after the due height has been attained we use food no longer to grow,
but to live, and to be preserved in life by it;
so also I think that the mind, when it has attained perfection,
eats and avails itself of suitable and appropriate food in such a degree,
that nothing ought to be either deficient or superfluous.
And in all things this food is to be understood
as the contemplation and understanding of God,
which is of a measure appropriate and suitable to this nature,
which was made and created;
and this measure it is proper should be observed by
every one of those who are beginning to see God,
i.e., to understand Him through purity of heart.
Origen. De Principiis. Tr. Frederick Crombie. Ante-Nicene Fathers, Vol. IV (ANF4). Alexander Roberts and James Donaldson, Eds. Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1866-1872.
One way of expressing the thesis presented here is this: if one were to design an ideal spiritual-philosophical system for Americans and Europeans, I believe it would contain everything that traditional Christianity has, except for some problematic and potentially dispensable doctrinal elements (e.g., the idea that religious authority can replace personal free inquiry in religious matters). One may participate in the psychological experience of Christianity, in my personal opinion, while at the same time reserving judgment on certain specific doctrines of this kind. Doctrine can never be perfect, because ultimate realities cannot be expressed in words; any attempt to do so must inevitably produce contradiction. Or to simply look at the matter historically, the Christian authorities were wrong about Galileo, and it is certain that some doctrines of today will follow the route of the earth-centered universe.
But such limitations are no cause to ‘throw the baby out with the bathwater’. The Christian tradition already exists. It is the product of centuries of continual refinement, a consummate work, polished and refined by the wise, loving, and inspired hands of countless individuals – each potentially the image of God, but in any case a human being with angelic abilities and aspirations, unimaginable creative potential, and loving instincts Moreover, this tradition is an organic cultural whole, which operates according to principles yet unknown to science. The suggestion that one might begin from scratch, constructing a new, personal religion, spirituality, or psychological system of equal or comparable quality, by selectively borrowing pieces here and there is unlikely at best. Such a view is hubris of a very high order, and elevates to personal godhood that meager sliver of consciousness denoted by the word ‘ego’. One may as well try to equal Beethoven in writing a symphony, or Raphael in painting.
Although I am a Christian myself, for this article I wear my hat as psychologist. My interest in that capacity is to assist others, as best I can, to achieve psychological integrity and self-actualization. Nothing asserted is contrary to reason. To a significant extent I follow the theories of Carl Jung here (but disagree with Jung on several important points, and would hesitate to call myself a ‘Jungian’). More fundamentally, I follow the basic trend of intelligently-based rejection of radical empiricism that began with the Romantic movement and is associated, for example, with writers like Coleridge and Wordsworth. The leading principle of the Romantic argument – which has tragically been lost in the 20th and 21st centuries (yet are more urgently important now than ever) – is that Enlightenment rationalism allows no place for the experience of the sublime, or those things which give deepest meaning to our lives.
While written from a Roman Catholic perspective, the points below apply with similar force to other liturgical Christian denominations, such as the Anglican, Orthodox, and Eastern Catholic Churches. Many of the same arguments might also apply to traditional Judaism.
This, then, is sufficient introduction. What follows is a brief listing of specific points, organized around the categories of (1) Psychology, Anthropology and Ethics; (2) Cultus; and (3) Metaphysics.
* * *
1. Psychology, Anthropology and Ethics
Christianity is an advanced ethical system that promotes the abandonment of personal egoism.
The pronounced emphasis in Christianity on acts of charity follows from and supports the abandonment of egoism. In the West, Christian saints and charitable institutions set the standard for egolessness.
The abandonment of egoism, or humility, as it is technically known, also manifests itself in a surrender to God’s will. Here we encounter a constellation of concepts – Providence, Grace, the Logos, etc. – associated with an orderly plan for all Creation, and man’s role therein. These all point to the potential attainment of a state of harmony between thought, action, and Nature. While Christianity is often criticized as being dualistic (e.g., denigrating the natural world, and tolerating , or even supporting its exploitation), true Christianity aims for a condition of non-duality.
If one investigates the matter attentively and honestly, one will readily observe within oneself a definite capacity to (1) act in ways that harm oneself; (2) act in ways that harm others; and (3) have negative thoughts (i.e., thoughts which disrupt, rather than serve to integrate the mind). The honest person will also recognize a tendency to self-deceit, and lack of objectivity in evaluating ones thoughts and actions. Lacking a better term, we may lump all of the preceding under the provisional term of “sin.”
Sin, therefore, is a useful concept, because it denotes a range of important related phenomena, for which no other term is available. We could as easily name it “what traditional religions call sin”, but that would be a bit awkward. Various associations to guilt, punishment, penance, etc., or the idea that “sin” may be defined unconditionally by an ecclesiastic authority we may exclude from our operational definition.
This thing, “sin”, then, exists, and is to our detriment. Unless one is courageous and honest enough to accept ones capacity for “sin” in some sense, it is difficult to see how one will find happiness, achieve personality integration, or improve ethically.
Salvation. It is similarly apparent to the honest observer that one exists in a state of need and deprivation. Most of us live day to day in various degrees (often severe) of unhappiness and lack of fulfillment. (Recall Thoreau’s remark: “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.”) All too infrequently, we live in states of anxiety, depression, aimlessness, confusion, wasted energy, etc. For this reason, each person, then, instinctively seeks what we may call psychological salvation. Christianity is not necessarily the only theoretical means of achieving psychological salvation; but it is an established means, tested by time, designed for this purpose, and especially adapted to the personality structure of Westerners. It would be difficult to demonstrate that any other means is more effective.
The Christ Principle
Many psychologists speak of a “self-actualizing” principle in the human psyche: a force, drive, principle, or telos which directs one to levels of greater integration, completion and happiness. For Christians, this self-actualizing principle can be understood as an inner Christ. We may call it by other names, but that does not change the significance of this salvific principle.
Inasmuch as this principle is present in all people, it is reasonable to think of there being a universal Archetype – an original principle of which all individual instances are images. This Archetype would correspond to Jesus Christ as a cosmic principle. However, it must be admitted that this latter part is more speculative, and more a matter of personal faith and intuition. The point to be made here is that modern psychology affirms the existence of an individual self-actualizing principle, and this principle is both acknowledged by and central to Christianity.
The principle of forgiveness is central to Christian ethics. The earnest Christian affirms, “as I forgive those who trespass against me” with each recitation of the Lord’s Prayer. The Apostle’s Creed also affirms as a basic Christian belief “the forgiveness of sins.” Christ died, Christians are taught, for the forgiveness of sins. Nearly his last words on the cross were, “Father, forgive them.” St. Paul, who became one of the greatest Apostles, was previously a great sinner — as though this aspect of his life was meant to engrain in our minds the availability of forgiveness.
If one probes deeply into human nature, one may observe that issues of guilt and forgiveness are of immense concern. Almost all of our difficulties, personal and social, relate, in some way or another, to an inability or failure to forgive. Yet there is never anything gained by not forgiving. Holding onto anger and resentment is a deep-seated and pervasive flaw in human character.
In no other religion is an emphasis on forgiveness so pronounced. Christianity might well be called a religion of forgiveness. That this is an ideal many find themselves unable to live up to completely is incidental for our purposes. What matters is that it is an ideal.
A central tenet of Christianity is that the human being is made in God’s image. This has profound implications for how we view ourselves and other people.
The eminent psychologist Carl Jung once wrote that, if one of his patients reported that he or she had returned to participation in the Catholic Church, he (Jung) considered that patient cured, or in any case advanced beyond the point that psychotherapy would be of further use. By this he meant that within the human psyche are archetypal principles and forces that are largely beyond our ability to scientifically understand, but are effectively dealt with by religion. Religion, properly practiced, in Jung’s view, is a primary means by which our culture has evolved for grappling with these archetypes, and achieving integration of the personality.
This brings us to the important subject of cultus, which we may define here as all the non-doctrinal practices and traditions of Christianity.
Opponents of religion and Christianity typically level their accusations against specific Christian doctrines. This mistakenly equate Christianity with doctrine.
But much of Christianity’s value comes from its cultus. This cultus is the result of a millennia-long process of cumulative development and improvement.
Just as our material culture – how to mix cement or build bridges – has improved through the centuries inexorably, regardless of regimes or wars, the culture of Christianity, its cultus, has been gradually improved and refined. Any time an innovation in cultus emerges, it is compared with the present counterpart and the better chosen. A successful innovation introduced one place can be immediately imitated elsewhere.
So Christianity has grown gradually to satisfy the aesthetic, intellectual, emotional and spiritual needs of its flock. When a process like this continues for a long time it produces considerable refinement. Christian cultus continually improves to accommodate the deepest needs and propensities of the human psyche.
Three important divisions of Christian cultus are Art, Literature, and Practices.
Fine art. Christianity has inspired many of the finest works of art that Western culture has produced, including paintings, sculptures, illuminated manuscripts, stained glass windows, and so on.
Music. Similarly, Christianity has inspired great productions of music from composers such as Bach, Handel, Vivaldi, Schubert, Vaughan-Williams, and innumerable others. This superlative music evokes feelings and intuitions of the highest order, which no words adequately describe, although terms like Joy, Beauty, Wonder, and Mystery are related to it. But who has ever composed an Atheist Oratorio or a Skeptic’s Symphony?
Architecture. What has been said above can also be said of the magnificent churches of Christianity, the basilicas and, especially, the Gothic cathedrals of Europe. To enter one of these buildings is to enter the realm of the sublime – or, as some would have it, heaven itself.
Scripture. Even were it not religious, the Bible would command our utmost attention as an unsurpassed work of literature and psychology. Every aspect, problem, difficulty and puzzle of human life is somewhere addressed therein. It has grown organically, reflecting the judgment of erudite and lofty-minded collators and translators. It passes to us a gem of human wisdom and insight.
I do not believe the Bible is literally true in every detail. In fact, I find such an assertion contrary both to reason and Christian teaching itself! But I do consider the Bible as something sacred, numinous – as exemplifying or manifesting a reality higher than this material one. Whatever you seek from ancient lore, from mysterious writings of great import, however you honor that sacred human urge – seek it first in the Bible and you will not be disappointed. The Bible is your book. Approach it as if it were written for you alone.
Patristic literature. Along with the Bible, we also possess an immense literature by the so-called Fathers (and Mothers) of the Church, both West and East. Luminaries in this constellation of geniuses include Origen of Alexandria, St. Augustine of Hippo, the Cappadocian Fathers (St. Basil, St. Gregory of Nyssa, St. Gregory of Nazianzus), St. John Chrysostom, St. Ambrose of Milan, and St. Maximus the Confessor, among others.
These great authors have produced profoundly beautiful and deeply insightful works. Nobody who reads them is disappointed. No modern writer today’s approach them degree of knowledge, rationality, and skill.
One might ask: if these writers are so profound, why are they not better known? The answer is largely that, in many cases, it has only been recently that their works have appeared in modern languages. Even the works of St. Augustine have not yet been fully translated.
Doctors of the Church. Another category of traditional Christian writers is that of the Church Doctors. Examples include St. Thomas Aquinas, St. Teresa of Avila, St. John of the Cross, St. Catherine of Siena, and St. Francis of Sales. Again, these writers show remarkable humanism and insight into psychology. It is most unfortunate that their works, sources of deep insight and inspiration, are neglected solely because they are Christian or Roman Catholic.
Christian mysticism. The Christian contemplative and mystical tradition is a living one. Today there are still many monastic centers, carrying on a tradition of mystical practices that originated in ancient times – perhaps even before Christianity. The works of, say, St. John Ruysbroeck, command our attention if for no other reason than their sheer beauty.
Asceticism. Many Westerners today, and even many psychologists, recognize the benefits of practices like mindfulness meditation and the watching and analyzing of thoughts. There is no doubt that these practices have evolved to a very high degree in Eastern traditions such as Buddhism. Yet no less impressive is the ascetical psychological tradition of the West, found in Catholic and Orthodox Christianity. The Philokalia is an outstanding example of this tradition. The Western ascetical tradition is in no way inferior to the Eastern tradition, yet is better suited to the culture, moirés, and temperament of Americans and Europeans.
The Mass. Even were it viewed only as a form of ritual art, the Mass’s value would be more than sufficiently demonstrated. Cross-cultural evidence reveals a universal human interest in ritual. Ritual appears to satisfy needs that cannot be met any other way. Ritual is a language of the unconscious, and, as such, needs no rational defense. Many rituals, the Mass included, are connected with personal transformation. Because Carl Jung’s essay, ‘Transformation Symbolism in the Mass’ (Collected Works, Vol. 11, Psychology and Religion: West and East, 1975, pp 201-98) has treated of this subject admirably well, we need say no more here in this regard.
Other rituals. The ancient rituals, rites and ceremonies associated with special occasions – baptisms, marriages, the Easter and Christmas seasons, and so on – must also be mentioned. It is difficult to convey the aesthetic and deeply satisfying quality of these to any who have not seen them first-hand. They are a living connection with our ancient past.
In the tradition of Greek pagan religion, one sometimes encounters the idea of theurgy – or ritual practices aimed to promote spiritual growth, in connection with various gods or goddesses. Some people today find such ancient pagan religions attractive for this very reason. Yet within Christianity there is the same sort of thing – namely the liturgies, rituals, and sacramental practices – developed to a much higher degree. But in the case of Christianity, this is a living tradition, not one that modern people have tried to reconstruct based on scanty past evidence and conjecture.
Prayer. What good person has never felt the deep and spontaneous urge to pray for another, whether it be a relative, friend or the victim of unfortunate circumstance? The urge to pray is so universal that we can little imagine it not having decidedly positive effect – even if only in the mind of the one who prays. If we are to pray, if we are pray-ers by disposition, may we not conceive of a technology of prayer? Should prayer be the only aspect of human life in which tradition and the cumulative experience of others is be of no benefit? Christianity teaches us how to pray. Moreover, it contains a rich store of formulas and prayers suitable for every circumstance in life.
Christian prayer is supported by traditional practices. Consider, for example, the folding of hands by a Christian in devout prayer. In the terminology of yoga, this is called a mudra – a ritual position of the hands, thought to have psychological or spiritual value. It is good to study yoga, with its various mudras and asanas; yet one should not, in the process, neglect the store of comparable postures and actions in the Christian tradition – the kneeling, the crossing of oneself, the bowing of the head, the raising of hands in characteristic ways. The ritual positions and actions of a priest saying Mass are exceptionally interesting in this regard, yet are typically taken for granted.
Liturgical calendar. Over the centuries, the Christian Church has evolved an elaborate and rich calendar, associating festivals and commemorations with various days and seasons. These no doubt reflect very ancient traditions. They connect us with the changing seasons, and promote a harmonization of our lives and souls with the natural world
Veneration of saints. What is remarkable is not so much that there are saints, but that there are so many. Each saint is the expression of some virtue or human excellence of which the human being is capable. Each saint, it may be said, corresponds to some archetype of the individual soul. Each constitutes an ideal whose example we are naturally inclined to imitate. By studying the lives of the saints, we learn about our own deepest aspirations and potentialities.
The Holy Trinity. To some, the doctrine of the Holy Trinity may seem a strange and arbitrary one. But, in fact, the doctrine partly derives from the speculation and theories of pre-Christian, Platonic philosophers. The Trinity solves certain meaningful theological and metaphysical problems.
Divine Mother. Christianity also makes ample room for and pays due homage to a Divine Feminine principle. Admittedly, the written doctrine on this point is somewhat unclear and perhaps even a little contradictory. But, to return briefly to the idea of cultus, clearly at that level considerable attention is paid to the Divine Feminine, and this promotes psychological integration.
Angels. This subject is a broad one, but one aspect of particular interest is the idea of a guardian angel. This Christian concept corresponds to very ancient notions of a companion spirit associated with the individual person. I hope to write more on this at another time; for now let it suffice simply to suggest a possible connection between this concept and a Higher Self.
Communion of Saints. One of the most extraordinary innovations of Christianity is the concept of a communion of saints – a spiritual community of Christians, both living and dead, into a kind of super-personal organism or institution. This makes a lot of sense. If our souls are eternal, and if we may, as many suppose, communicate and help each other at a spiritual level, then would it not be in our interests to form some kind of spiritual organization for mutual benefit and to effect God’s work together?
Look at the challenges of the world today, the great social needs, the injustice, the terrible deprivation of so many. If you are reading this, it presupposes that you are the kind of person who is moved to concern and action by such things. Can you solve them by yourself? Perhaps you have tried, and, if so, likely have not gotten very far. Would it not make sense to at least explore the possibility of working within a spiritual communion of similarly inclined souls? If God wants these problems solved, would it not make sense that He would employ such a means as this?
* * *
In the interests of the reader, this list has been kept short and minimal. Many more items could be included and elaborated on at length. Let these suffice, however, to supply an honest view of how one Christian views his faith. Hopefully even the most inveterate skeptic will discern that there is a much firmer foundation here than mere superstition, or failure to exercise disciplined reasoning – the two objections raised most commonly today against Christianity.
It is instructive to consider the various names of God used in the Catholic Mass. The list below comes from the regular Order of the Mass, variable Eucharistic Prayers I — IV, and variable Eucharistic Prayers for Masses of Reconciliation I — II, as shown on the web pages of Felix Just S. J. .
God the Father
The Lord, Our God
Lord God Almighty
Lord, God of All Creation
Almighty God and Father
God Our Father
Father, All Powerful and Everliving God
Creator of All Life
Holy Lord, God of Power and Might
God of Glory and Majesty
God of Love and Mercy
Fountain of All Holiness
One God, Living and True
Through All Eternity You Live in Unapproachable Light
Source of Life and Goodness
Our Living and True God
All life, all holiness comes from you through your Son, Jesus Christ our Lord, by the working of the Holy Spirit.
Lord Jesus Christ
Jesus Christ Our Lord and God
Christ Our Lord
The Beloved Son, Jesus the Christ
Only Son of the Father
The Holy One
The Most High, Jesus Christ
Maker of Heaven and Earth
Eternally Begotten of the Father
God from God
Light from Light
True God from True God
The Word that Brings Salvation
He Who Comes in the Name of the Lord
You Raise the Dead to Life in the Spirit
You Bring Pardon and Peace to the Sinner
You Bring Light to Those in Darkness
Our Savior, Jesus Christ
Savior of the World
Dying You Destroyed Our Death
Rising You Restored Our Life
Lamb of God
You Take Away the Sin of the World
Jesus Christ, Our Passover and Our Lasting Peace
Jesus Christ, Your (God the Father’s) Only Son, Our Lord
The Sacrifice which Restores Man to Your (God the Father’s) Friendship
The Hand You (God the Father) Stretch Out to Sinners
The Way that Leads to Your (God the Father’s) Peace
The Holy Spirit
The Holy Spirit
The Lord, the Giver of Life (Holy Spirit)
Your (God the Father’s) Spirit
“Methinks you do protest too much”, said Hamlet.
The harhsness with which some people criticize Christianity is revealing. G. K. Chesterton puts it very well in introduction to The Everlasting Man.
The point of this book, in other words, is that the next best thing to being really inside Christendom is to be really outside it. And a particular point is that the popular critics of Christianity are not really outside it. … the best relation to our spiritual home is to be near enough to love it. But the next best is to be far enough away not to hate it. It is the contention of these pages that while the best judge of Christianity is a Christian, the next best judge would be something more like a Confucian. The worst judge of all is the man now most ready with his judgments; the ill-educated Christian turning gradually into the ill-tempered agnostic, entangled in the end of a feud of which he never understood the beginning, blighted with a sort of hereditary boredom with he knows not what, and already weary of hearing what he has never heard. … For those in whom a mere reaction has thus become an obsession, I do seriously recommend the imaginative effort of conceiving the Twelve Apostles as Chinamen. In other words, I recommend these critics to try to do as much justice to Christian saints as if they were pagan sages. But … when we do make this imaginative effort to see the whole thing from the outside, we find that it really looks like what is traditionally said about it inside.
Get spoken chapters of The Everlasting Man as mp3 audio files here.
The Wanderer Demon
Evagrius Ponticus is an important but (in Latin Catholicism) under-appreciated Church Father. An astute psychologist, Evagrius analyzed in exacting detail the cognitive psychology of religious life. One major legacy is his formalization of the idea of the seven deadly sins. This is a more sophisticated concept than people often realize; his purpose was not merely to supply a catalogue of sins, but rather to explore the subtle mental dynamics by which the mind is led away from remembrance of God. To appreciate the full significance of the seven deadly sins, that is, one must understand Evagrius’ basic system of psychology, at task, however which must await another opportunity to pursue.
Here we briefly mention one detail of Evagrius’ system. Essential to his psychology is the idea of logismoi. This Greek term refers to a certain class of thoughts. As is usually the case with mental phenomena, it is not easy to give a precise definition of logismoi, despite the fact that we are confronted with them as mental experiences almost continually. One short, literal definition might be “discursive thoughts” or “reasonings.” The latter is misleading, though, because logismoi also include things like imaginings and fantasies. Perhaps it is better to define logismoi, then, by examples. Logismoi include: worries, ruminations, daydreams, angry thoughts, temptations, doubts, self-accusations, cynical thoughts, mental “stewing”, rehearsal of past injuries, scheming, imagined conversations, distracting or obsessive thoughts, and so on. In short, logismoi encompass a wide range of maladaptive and distracting thoughts. This long list of examples helps make clear exactly how significant a problem this is for us, and in what great need we are of psychological salvation, which, in part, involves a purification from logismoi. As long as logsmoi are dominant, the mind is distracted or cut off from gnosis, angelic thoughts, the mental fruits of God’s grace, and discernment of God’s will.
For Evagrius, the logismoi were the result of demons (or, more accurately, daemons). In late antiquity, much was written about daemons. Often it is not clear whether “the daemonic” was always understood as referring to sentient, spiritual beings, or merely to “energetic forces.” That is, we may potentially understand the term “daemonic” simply to denote a class of observable phenomena, for which no more suitable term exists, without being committed to any particular metaphysical position. For example, we still speak of a person with an addiction or similar problem as struggling with “demons”, without necessarily implying the involvement of any sentient spiritual beings.
In the case of Evagrius one does get the impression that he understood logismoi as being caused by literal demons. We, on the other hand, might be more inclined to see them as the result of daemonic forces within the human psyche: a class of autonomous mental patterns, including intrusive, distracting, or tempting trains of thought, which occur as though energized by some external source; they are not set into motion by our own conscious choice, and generally work against our psychological growth, development, and wellbeing. To say this another way, all we actually know, empirically, is (1) that we are frequently subject to such thoughts, and (2) they operate as though with the intention or express purpose of opposing our spiritual growth. Whether they are actually associated with spiritual beings called demons is of only secondary interest; our primary interest is to rid ourselves of these thoughts.
In his work, On the Thoughts (Peri Logismon), Evagrius refers to a special kind of daemonic thought, which he called the “wanderer”. This, he noted, affects contemplatives in the morning and distracts their attention from religious attention by degrees, until they fall into a state of “forgetfulness” (lethe) towards God. The reader may easily verify for himself or herself that this phenomenon exists; upon waking not infrequently our minds are turned toward God, resolved to live for Him that day, to perform various good works, etc. But soon our attention becomes distracted in certain regular ways that Evagrius describes.
The text below comes from Fr. Luke Dysinger‘s translation of On the Thoughts.
9. There is a demon known as the one who leads astray, [‘wanderer’] who especially at dawn presents [himself] to the brothers, and leads around the nous of the solitary from city to city, from house to house, from village to village, pretending at first to simply carry on [holy] conversation; [but] then recognizing those it meets and talking at greater length: and in time it happens that, little by little it incurs forgetfulness of the knowledge of God, of virtue, and of its calling.
Therefore the solitary must watch this demon, noting where he comes from and where he ends up; for this demon does not make this long circuit without purpose and at random, but because he wishes to corrupt the state of the solitary, so that his intellect, overexcited by all this wandering, and intoxicated by its many meetings, may immediately fall prey to the demons of unchastity, anger or dejection – the demons that above all others destroy its inherent brightness.
But if we really want to understand the cunning of this demon, we should not be hasty in speaking to him, or tell others what is taking place, how he is compelling us to make these visits in our mind and how he is gradually driving the intellect to its death -for then he will flee from us, as he cannot bear to be seen doing this; and so we shall not grasp any of the things we are anxious to learn. But, instead, we should allow him one more day, or even two, to play out his role, so that we can learn about his deceitfulness in detail; then, mentally rebuking him, we put him to flight.
A casual reading might intepret this “wandering” as physical activity — a monk who travels early in the morning to visit other monks, becoming distracted in the process. Yet Evagrius clearly refers to the nous (the higher intellect) as what wanders. Thus, this more accurately describes a problem of mental wandering and distraction to which the religious soul is subject shortly after awakening. Evagrius’ goal here is to make a person conscious of this process, so that one may more readily detect and interrupt the it. In the following paragraphs Evagrius presents his counter-strategy: let the daemon proceed without interference a few times and observe how it works and what its effects are. Then, alert to its mode of operation, resist it.
But because during temptation the intellect is clouded and does not see exactly what is happening, do as follows after the demon has withdrawn. Sit down and recall in solitude the things that have happened: where you starred and where you went, in what place you were seized by the spirit of unchastity, dejection or anger and how it all happened. Examine these things closely and commit them to memory, so that you will then be ready to expose the demon when he next approaches you. Try to become conscious of the weak spot in yourself which he hid from you, and you will not follow him again.
If you wish to enrage him, expose him at once when he reappears, and tell him just where you went first, and where next, and so on. For he becomes very angry and cannot bear the disgrace. And the proof that you spoke to him effectively is that the thoughts he suggested leave you. For he cannot remain in action when he is openly exposed. The defeat of this demon is followed by heavy sleepiness and deadness, together with a feeling of great coldness in the eyelids, countless yawnings, and heaviness in the shoulders. But if you pray intensely all this is dispersed by the Holy Spirit.
More of Luke Dysinger’s translations of On the Thoughts (and other works of Evagrius) can be found here.