http://www.ai.edu RSS feeds for Aquinas Institute of Theology 60 http://www.ai.edu/Resources/Blogs/AquinasMatters/tabid/216/articleType/ArticleView/articleId/120/The-Regular-Life.aspx#Comments 0 http://www.ai.edu/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/RssComments.aspx?TabID=216&ModuleID=743&ArticleID=120 http://www.ai.edu/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/Tracking/Trackback.aspx?ArticleID=120&PortalID=0&TabID=216 http://www.ai.edu/Resources/Blogs/AquinasMatters/tabid/216/articleType/ArticleView/articleId/120/The-Regular-Life.aspx Greg Heille, O.P., his cousin and her son: taking energy from an old growth tree in the forests of North Carolina On Good Friday and Holy Saturday, I attended the Office of Readings and Morning Prayer at St Dominic Priory here in St Louis. Each year I am drawn into Frank Quinn’s beautiful antiphons for Holy Week, and each year there are some difficult antiphons that neither the cantors nor the assembly get quite right. In daily choral prayer, we miss notes and make mistakes and (now that Frank is in his grave) nobody really seems to mind: we simply press on. This is often the point for me in Religious Life: we fall down, we get up, we press on. It’s not about individually being perfect. By pressing on beyond our imperfect selves into the imperfect dance that is community, we again and again and over time find our perfection in God. For the past several weeks I have been taking an online course on parenting taught by Heather Forbes LCSW of the Beyond Consequences Institute in Boulder, Colorado. The course has to do with parenting children of trauma—and my dialogue partner is a cousin who has adopted a six year old (my godchild) who in the womb and in his early years has suffered the drama of drug addiction, adoption, and a major house fire. While children of trauma experience exaggerated fears and behaviors, we all experience what Heather Forbes calls “disregulation”: no matter how big or small our window of tolerance for the stresses life throws at us, we all reach our limit and we all get caught at times in fear and overwhelm when no amount of thinking will set things straight. When we are disregulated, we are not bad: we are overwhelmed. In these moments, we don’t need time out (judgment, control, consequences)—we need time in (a quality of safe relationship with loved ones, friends, co-workers, and community who love and care for us enough to assure us all will be well). Just as in Good Friday Morning Prayer, a challenging antiphon pushes a cantor’s singing voice beyond its limit and the community carefully presses on while the cantor finds his pitch, so too in religious community, each of us falls out of step and back into step again, both throughout each day and over the course of a life. We see each other’s mistakes and foibles and worse sides in community because at the end of the day or in times of trouble community is the safe place to bring our stress, our limits, our crises, and our disregulation. Thanks to the rhythms and the people that constitute what we call the Regular Life, we re-regulate again and again and again. It’s not about individually being perfect; it is about being made holy through the very human rhythm of Disregulation and Regulation. In the Regular Life, God is shepherding us into the perfect flow of that big Self beyond our little selves.     SuperUser Account Thu, 12 May 2011 14:26:00 GMT f1397696-738c-4295-afcd-943feb885714:120 http://www.ai.edu/Resources/Blogs/AquinasMatters/tabid/216/articleType/ArticleView/articleId/86/They-Shall-Look-Upon-Her-Whom-They-Have-Pierced-Violence-against-Women-Ancient-and-Modern.aspx#Comments 0 http://www.ai.edu/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/RssComments.aspx?TabID=216&ModuleID=743&ArticleID=86 http://www.ai.edu/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/Tracking/Trackback.aspx?ArticleID=86&PortalID=0&TabID=216 http://www.ai.edu/Resources/Blogs/AquinasMatters/tabid/216/articleType/ArticleView/articleId/86/They-Shall-Look-Upon-Her-Whom-They-Have-Pierced-Violence-against-Women-Ancient-and-Modern.aspx Carol F. Williams Carol Williams is a retired physician who has studied at Aquinas Institute since 1998. Forty years’ experience delivering health care to women and young girls impresses one with how frequently intimate violence is a part of their lives.  The statistics are impressive:  one in six American women has experienced rape or attempted rape; nine of ten rape victims are female.  Fifteen per cent of sexual assault victims are under age twelve. (RAINN)   While physical assault that causes severe enough injury to bring a woman or child to medical attention is the type that is officially reported, less obvious, more subtle forms are frequent and most often remain hidden within the collusive silence of a family or culture.  Beatings that avoid the face and leave marks on the body normally covered by clothing are not uncommon.  Verbal abuse that demeans the girl or woman frequently accompany slapping and beating.  Physical abuse affects 4% to 8% of pregnant women. (Burnett, Adler)  Some would say that the failure of a male partner to exercise sexual continence in the face of increasingly severe, life-threatening medical complications with repeated pregnancies of the mother is a form of violence, as is the abortion forced upon the woman by her partner under threat to her life or to the lives of her children.  Domestic violence affects 30% of women in the United States, very likely a conservative estimate, given that many episodes go unreported.  A justice system that traditionally has tended to down-play both children’s and women’s testimony about abuse and violence compounds the difficulty they have had in obtaining justice. The rape victim suffers not only the horror and pain of the rape itself, but also the indignity of the rape exam in the emergency room, followed by the skepticism often heaped upon her by investigating police and the defense attorney if her case goes to trial. All of this is compounded by the sometimes desultory, incomplete processing of specimens in police laboratories.  There is the further horror of discovering she is pregnant from the assault, or worse, that she has contracted the HIV virus. Rape as a weapon of war is as old as wars themselves, continuing into the recent past and today in places like Bosnia, Sudan, Rwanda, and The Congo where rape is an integral part of genocide.  Western armies, including the U.S., have their own dismal history of raping civilians in places like Vietnam, as well as their comrades in arms.  The “comfort camps” visited upon the conquered people of Korea, China, the Philippines, and other Southeast Asia countries by the Japanese in World War II are well documented. The barbaric custom of female circumcision continues virtually unabated in eastern and central African nations, reinforced by a culture that sees such mutilations as guarantee of marriageability for the young girls.  Young Catholic nuns in one African country are forced by priests to have sexual intercourse in order to obtain supplies for the parish school; when they become pregnant, the priest takes them to the abortionist; alternatively the nuns’ order ejects them to an uncertain future on the streets where they are shunned by their families.  The preference in China for male children feeds the killing of unborn and born female babies.  The trafficking of women and young girls for the sex trade goes on unabated in both eastern and western hemispheres. Raping of children including infants has increased 400% since the end of Apartheid in 1994 in South Africa.  Infants are gang raped to the point of having to have extensive reconstructive surgery to repair their genital areas; many die from their injuries. (Meier) Violence against women and girls is global, endemic, and epidemic. Habakkuk’s cry rings out:  “O Lord, how long shall I cry for help, and you will not listen?  Or cry to you ‘Violence!’ and you will not save?  Why do you make me see wrongdoing and look at trouble?  Destruction and violence are before me; strife and contention arise.  So the law becomes slack and justice never prevails.  The wicked surround the righteous – therefore judgment comes forth perverted.” (Hb 1:2-4 NRSV)   Habakkuk’s cry might well be that of Woman who down through the ages has suffered the horrors of rape and genocide, of status as chattel with no rights independent of man, unseen and unheard in the conversations of life.  Are the ancient prophets aware of her as a person? The prophets spoke their oracles against the backdrop of the Sinaitic Decalogue that regarded the wife as property of her husband (Ex 22:21-24) and as source of ritual impurity when menstruating. (Ex 19:15)   Further, the father was enjoined not to “profane [his] daughter by making her a prostitute.” (Lv 19:29)  The cost of causing a pregnant woman to miscarry was to be determined by her husband, and if injury more than miscarriage occurred, it was to be “life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for burn, wound for wound, stripe for stripe.” (Ex 20:17; 21:22-25)  All decisions about recompense were in the hands of men without any input or opinion from the woman.  One of the more blatant imbalances of the ancient law code is in Numbers 5:11-31 where the woman is forced to take the blame for a man’s jealousy by drinking holy water mixed with dirt from the floor of the tabernacle; if she gets sick, she is guilty of adultery and if she does not get sick, she is innocent.  The curious episode of Miriam’s leprosy as punishment for questioning the sole authority of Moses in leading the people (both she and Aaron had questioned it) is an example of the common mechanism of laying the entire blame at the feet of the woman for something that is a joint affair.  Women as spoils of war (women of Shiloh, Jgs 21), as sacrifices to satisfy a vow (Jephtha’s daughter, Jgs 11), or to protect guests from demands of a mob (Lot’s daughters, Gn 19:1-11) are other examples of a general blindness to injustices visited on woman in Israelite culture. It is in this atmosphere of suspicion and of general disregard for woman as a full person that the prophets developed whatever attitudes they had toward her. Amos inveighed against the exploitation and injustice suffered by the masses of poor people during the period of peace and prosperity experienced by Israel prior to the final Assyrian invasion, but seemed oblivious to the particular plight of women who undoubtedly comprised the majority of the poor.  Further, while other Biblical writers are particularly concerned about the precarious circumstances of widows (Ex 22:22-24, Pr 15:25, Is 1:17, Ps 94:6, Gn 38:1-30), Amos is silent about them.  One also has to wonder about his condemnation of wealthy women (“cows of Bashan,” Am 4:1-2).  As Judith Sanderson points out, only gradually is widespread domestic violence across all economic classes beginning to be recognized in the modern world.  The powerlessness of women in domestic violence is rarely acknowledged.  It seems unlikely that it did not exist in ancient Israel, even among the “cows of Bashan.”   That said, Amos does hold women to the same ethical standard as men in their treatment of the exploited poor – the prophet denounces wealthy women because they use their positions of borrowed power and wealth to crush the poor.  An ethical demand that applies equally to the genders is present also in Hosea 4:14, where Yahweh does not punish whoring daughters and adulterous daughters-in-law because the men are committing the same sins; God does not punish one while the other goes scot free (but remember leprous Miriam).  Sanderson also points out that Amos does not consider the effect of war and its atrocities on particular women.  What happened to the pregnant women whose bellies were ripped open and whose children were killed before their very eyes?  What was the effect on Amaziah’s wife when she was forced into prostitution? (Sanderson, 218-221) Grace Immerson notes that against the backdrop of the patriarchal culture of ancient Israel, woman’s voice is mediated through that of an injured male, if it is heard at all.  The characterization of Israel as a whore or otherwise faithless woman reinforces the image of woman as evil against the image of the ideal male. (Immerson, 677)   Only one woman is mentioned as a leader of Israel by the prophets:  Miriam, who along with her brothers Moses and Aaron, led the people of Israel out of Egypt through the wilderness and to the threshold of the Promised Land. (Mi 6:4)   One comes away from a cursory survey of the Hebrew prophets with the sense that there was a general tendency to lay the burden of Israel’s guilt for its sins on the shoulders of woman.  Widows were the only women who should be protected from exploitation; even children rarely warranted particular protection if the family fell into debt and the father sold them into slavery.  Is there no end to the relational nightmare between men and women in a patriarchal society? God, answer the cries of our hearts, for our fathers, brothers, husbands, and sons do not hear!  Is your answer still the one you gave to Habakkuk?  “Write the vision; make it plain on tablets, so that a runner may read it.  For there is still a vision for the appointed time; it speaks of the end, and does not lie.  If it seems to tarry, wait for it: it will surely come, it will not delay.” (Hb 2:2b-3 NRSV)  What is the vision that God asks Habakkuk (and us) to wait for as it relates to violence against women and children?  Despite the patriarchal tone of prophetic writings, are we missing God’s quiet voice calling us to change how we relate to one another as male and female? I imagine desert places as generally quiet but barren places, harsh landscapes stripped of obvious signs of life.  In the prophet Hosea we hear Yahweh’s gentle invitation to Israel to begin their relationship all over again in the wilderness where their relationship first began.  Listen as Yahweh woos Israel:  “Therefore, I will now allure her and bring her into the wilderness, and speak tenderly to her…There she shall respond as in the days of her youth, as at the time when she came out of the land of Egypt.  On that day, says the Lord, you will call me, ’Ishi’ (my man), and no longer will you call me, ‘Baali’ (my master, husband, owner, idol).” (Ho 2:14, 15b-16 NRSV)  This is language of courtship, of one person seeking union with a beloved other.  It assumes that both persons are of “marriageable age,” free to make a mature decision to enter into a covenant of mutual vulnerability and intimacy, of shared life in which an exploitative power differential does not exist, in which neither person is slavishly subservient to the other, a life of mutuality, of respect and dignity in which the operative principle is love.  I hear in this passage Hosea yearning for such a relationship with his wife.  He is no longer ranting at her; his anger is stripped away.  “Let’s go back to the beginning, into the silent stretches of the desert where we will not be distracted by the noise and violence of the world.”  Where are the opportunities for such new beginnings in male-female relationships in today’s world? Truth and Reconciliation Commission Hearing, South Africa, 1996:  A white police officer is finishing his recital of what he had done to the son and husband of the older black woman sitting before him.  He had dragged her son, a non-violent protestor of Apartheid, out of the village, tortured him, killed him, and tossed his body into the river.  The officer came back later, took her husband away to an isolated area, doused him with gasoline, and set him afire.  He finished speaking, and the woman was asked what should be the officer’s punishment.  “Take me to where you burned my husband to death so I can gather his ashes and give him a decent burial,” she said.  “Then I want you to spend one week per month in my village, in my house, so I can mother you.” Rwanda, 2004:  A woman sweeps the dirt floor of her hovel.  Outside some ten year-old boys play kickball in the dusty yard.  The woman speaks:  “Every time I look at him, I remember – my husband and children hacked to pieces, the rapes over and over and over.  Six weeks later I realize I am pregnant.  I think about going to the abortionist…but I don’t go.  Those of my village who survive shun me because I carried the child of a Hutu.  There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t remember that day.  My rapists were Hutus; I am Tutsi.  He’s (nodding toward the outside) Hutu and Tutsi.”  She pauses.  “He’s Rwandan.” Nagasaki, August 9, 1945:  All is quiet now, unnaturally so, the mushroom cloud dissipated, the firestorm playing out its ruin as it spreads out from the center of Ground Zero – the Catholic Urakami Cathedral.  Only Mary remains, remnant of a statue that stood on the altar, her eyes charred hollows gazing out on a vaporized scene, her scream of horror stunned into silence.  Seventy-five thousand of her people are gone; more will die in the years to come of illnesses due to the effects of radiation.  A woman is three months pregnant at the time and will give birth to a baby boy who will become Archbishop Joseph Mitsuaki Takami of Nagasaki.  In May, 2010, he will travel to New York City, bringing Mary with him, to plead for the total elimination of nuclear weapons. “Write the vision; make it plain on tablets, so that a runner may read it.” Oh, my people, God is calling us to those places, those desert places where silence reigns after the total annihilation of all that is human, after human beings have done the worst that they can to other human beings and to the earth that is their home and source of sustenance.  There in the vaporized silence, in the ashes and blood of genocide, sexual and racial oppression, God is calling us to start all over again in our covenanted relationship with God and with each other.  Listen…listen…listen…and hear the quiet voice of God nudging open our hearts and minds to hope for redemption.  Hear God in the South African woman when she invites the white police officer to accept her remothering of him.  Hear the hope in the voice of the Rwandan mother for a different future in Rwanda through the sons and daughters conceived in the slaughter house of 1994.  And hear Mary of Nagasaki pleading for a world free of nuclear weapons through her son Archbishop Takami.  It is a call to relearn what it is to be human, to remember the devastation that comes when we forget that true power does not reside in crushing the other, whether male or female, black, white, or yellow.  It is a call to transcend our wounds and learn how to forgive and to help the aggressor learn compassion and respect for the other.  It is a call for a new creation wherein male and female work together to bring God’s vision of universal peace to reality. They shall look on her whom they have pierced – by rape, by murder of husband and children, and the myriad other ways woman is pierced by her experience in a violent world.  Do you see Mary at the foot of the cross?  Do you hear her voice?  Do you hear Yahweh’s voice in hers?  Listen, my people!  She is calling you to lay aside your sense of shame at what you have done to her in so many ways and learn what it is to be the child from her womb, to be a child of God.  She is calling you, sons and daughters, to learn how to trust one another in mutual vulnerability, abolishing the power differential that makes one gender slavishly subservient to the other. “Write the vision; make it plain on tablets, so that a runner may read it.” Sources Consulted Burnett, Lynn Barkley, M.D., Ed.D., LLB(c) and Jonathan Adler, M.D.  “Domestic Violence.”  eMedicine (August 18, 2009). Donohoe, Martin, M.D., FACP.  “War, Rape, and Genocide:  Never Again?”  Medscape Ob/Gyn & Women’s Health, October 18, 2004. Fahrenthold, David A.  “Statistics Show Drop in U.S. Rape Cases.”  Washington Post, June 19, 2006. Green, Llezlie L.  “Sexual Violence and Genocide Against Tutsi Women,” excerpts from “Propaganda and Sexual Violence in the Rwandan Genocide:  an Argument for Intersectionality in International Law.” Columbia Human Rights Law Review 33 (Summer 2002):  733-776, 733-755. Immerson, Grace I.  “Hosea.”  In Eerdmans Commentary on the Bible, edited by James D.G. Dunn and John W. Rogerson, 676-685.  Grand Rapids, MI:  William B. Eerdmans, 2003. Kykelhahn, Tracey, Allen J. Beck, Ph.D., and Thomas H. Cohen, Ph.D.  “Characteristics of Suspected Human Trafficking Incidents, 2007-2008.”  Bureau of Justice Statistics Special Report (January 2009). “’Mary the Survivor’ of Nagasaki Visits Nonproliferation Conference.”  In “Signs of the Times:  Nuclear Disarmament.”  America, May 17, 2010, 6-7. Medline Abstracts.  “Violence Against Women During Pregnancy – Update 2005.”  (August 11, 2005). Meier, Eileen, M.P.H, J.D., R.N.  “Child Rape in South Africa.”  Pediatric Nursing (2002:28). Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) 211th General Assembly.  “Background:  Resolution on the International Criminal Court (June 1999). Rape, Abuse, and Incest National Network (RAINN).  Web Page accessed October 10, 2010. Sanderson, Judith E.  “Amos.”  In Women’s Bible Commentary, edited by Carol A. Newsom and Sharon H. Ringer, 218-223.  Westminster:  John Knox, 1998. ______.  “Micah.”  In Women’s Bible Commentary, edited by Carol A. Newsom and Sharon H. Ringer, 229-231.  Westminster:  John Knox, 1998. World Health Organization.  “Female Genital Mutilation.”  Fact sheet 241 (February 2010). SuperUser Account Wed, 05 Jan 2011 20:59:00 GMT f1397696-738c-4295-afcd-943feb885714:86 http://www.ai.edu/Resources/Blogs/AquinasMatters/tabid/216/articleType/ArticleView/articleId/87/The-Place-of-Imagination-in-the-Religiously-Differentiated-Consciousness.aspx#Comments 0 http://www.ai.edu/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/RssComments.aspx?TabID=216&ModuleID=743&ArticleID=87 http://www.ai.edu/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/Tracking/Trackback.aspx?ArticleID=87&PortalID=0&TabID=216 http://www.ai.edu/Resources/Blogs/AquinasMatters/tabid/216/articleType/ArticleView/articleId/87/The-Place-of-Imagination-in-the-Religiously-Differentiated-Consciousness.aspx Carla Mae Streeter, OP Aquinas Institute of Theology From the Interdisciplinary Conference Collective Memory in St. Louis: Recollection, Forgetting and the Common Good, “Memory and the Religious Imagination” Fontbonne University and the St. Louis History Museum October 21-23, 2010 Shaping an Adequate Human Anthropology What is imagination? If we are to answer this question, it will be helpful to provide an adequate human anthropology as a context for our answer. The popular trilogy is body, mind, and spirit. But is this adequate? Where are the emotions in such a triad? Are they included in body, or perhaps they a part of what we call mind. More, where would we locate the imagination in this familiar trilogy? Is the imagination part of what we call body, or is it better located in what we refer to as mind. And precisely what do we mean by the human spirit? Is it a natural part of the human being or some kind of ghost in a machine? The lack of clarity as to what we mean by the words we use, I suggest, comes from a lack of clarity of what we understand by the words we use. The ambiguity of the terms body, mind, and spirit present a real block to understanding the dynamic roles of human emotion and the imagination in the full creative function of the human being as we struggle today to develop full human potential for the progress of human culture. Do we have an alternative? Is there a way of clarifying both what we say and what we understand what we say to mean? I suggest there is. First, we will clarify the words we use. I suggest the terms organism, psyche, and spirit might be clearer and more inclusive. [1] By organism we will mean all the physical systems that belong to our embodiment: circulatory, digestive, auditory, visual, neurological, respiratory, etc. By psyche we will include our capacity to image, whether in dreams, fantasy, or in the complex linking of images we call imagination, and the human emotions. Aristotle and Aquinas differentiate what we will call the spontaneous emotions (love, hate, desire, aversion, joy, sorrow) and the considered emotions (courage, fear, hope, despair, and anger). Spontaneous emotions are much more rooted in feelings and bodily sensations. Considered emotions are influenced more by thought. Finally, by the human spirit we will specify those operations that distinguish the human from the animal realm. We experience wonder and awe. We question for understanding and meaning. We judge the correctness or lack of truth in the factual data given us. And finally, we evaluate, choose, decide, and act. These functions are performed by an attentive consciousness that can be aware of itself doing each of these operations.[2] With this new anthropological framework we have a possible new way of thinking about the soul. Operationally the soul would be our psychic energy and our human spiritual functions. Body would then be psychic energy and the organism with its systems. This enables us to locate both imagination and emotion. Both are part of our psychic reality. They are differentiations of psychic energy in a distinctive human soul, and both play key roles in cognition and decision. Imagination and emotion are the stuff of therapy, for the psyche can become as wounded as our organism can become ill because of disease. A strategic question for our purposes is what relationship imagination and emotion might have to the spiritual operations of attentiveness to experience, intelligent inquiry, reasonable judgment of fact, and responsible decision making. The Religiously Differentiated Consciousness What is consciousness? Perhaps the simplest reply is human awareness. It is psychic energy become aware of itself. When we are conscious we are aware that we are aware. We can be conscious that we are questioning. We can be aware that we have reached a judgment of fact, true or false. We can be conscious of making a deliberate choice and carrying it out. This is intentionality. We can intend these operations or not intend them. We are conscious to some extent even when we dream. It is only in dreamless sleep that consciousness rests. When we attend to ourselves experiencing, questioning, judging, and deciding, we are fully conscious. When we attend to the Holy, we experience awe. Contemplative wonder is evidence of the spiritual nature of the human being. The consciousness is religiously differentiated when it experiences the Holy. It might question that experience. It might reach the judgment that “God has moved in my life!” It might prompt a change in behavior or life direction. This experience will be stored in the psyche, imprinted on its feeling memory, and either lapse into forgetfulness or become the motivation for my new choices and behavior. Religious experience thus changes the psyche; it opens consciousness to what is beyond the human, beyond matter, to that which is transcendent; it expands what experiences or images the psyche holds. What is stored in the psychic memory can be called up later or repressed. What is stored can influence how we do self-reflexion, or refuse to do it. The experience of the Holy, stored in the imagination of the psychic memory can greatly influence the levels of operations of the human spirit: what we admit into attentive awareness, what we allow to be questioned, whether our judgment is reasonable, and whether our decisions are responsible. Where does intentionality come from? What is its source? I suggest that it is the very life force of the soul. It is released from the human love energy of the parents in conception, and this love energy is powered by the very Personified Love we call God, whether acknowledged by the parents or not. Life comes from the One Who Is. Materially we are made from star dust. Spiritually we are spun out of Love. This origin of the life force flows from the very ground of the soul, the center, core, apex,[3] name it as you will. When the human becomes aware that it has been grasped by the Holy (Rom. 5:5) the relationship that is grace begins. The person is religiously in-love. The person is different. The Place and Role of Imagination Our capacity to image and imagine is thus different. The Holy and our relationship to this Holy One is now in our conscious horizon. The religiously differentiated consciousness is a seedbed for images no longer limited by material boundaries. The new limit is the Transcendent. The imagination has become the fertile ground of possibility no longer held captive to empirical measurement. Its measurement is what is appropriate to a new relationship of love. The law, be it of physics, the body politic, or social mores, is respected but can no longer limit possibility. Like some transparent membrane, the imagination is free to draw images from the past, from present natural and human science, from poetry, art and literature, from history and economics, and from the richness of revelation and faith to spin future possibility. Like a drunk on a binge, the soul dances with the intoxication of one who is in love and this “condition” will deal with the human woundedness and blockage that stunts cognition. But, you will say, what about our biases, our propensity to ruin everything? This is where we need to honestly face the particular bias that cripples the imagination and thus severely limits attentiveness and intelligent questioning. This bias we will call dramatic because it infects us in the drama of life as we encounter crisis, hurt, and pain.[4] Therapists know the scene well. A client cannot entertain certain images because they are like asking the consciousness to touch a hot stove. The images are buried, repressed in the psyche, and so “shoot from the bushes” unbidden and without permission. The result is a form of emotional crippling, the avoidance of images that bring memories of violation, hurt, or pain. The term scotosis refers to a blockage, a covering over, or we might say a psychic callous.[5] To touch it is simply too painful. A bit of reflection brings home the clear understanding that images that are too painful to entertain will never become fertile images for new ideas. The cognition is thus crippled at its earliest stage, the forming of the image or phantasm needed for fresh thought. In the area of the pain, the thinker is effectively shut down. This bias needs to be dissolved. Dramatic bias dissolves under the skillful care of the therapist who will bring up the image from the recesses of the psyche and empty it of its toxicity. The result will often be tears of release. Being grasped by religious love can also dissolve this psychic blockage in the intimacy of contemplative prayer. The result again will often be tears of release. Few if any philosophical or theological thinkers address this issue. It is clear that left unaddressed, dramatic bias can abort clear and creative thinking related to the topic that has caused the bias in the first place. The subconscious memory then becomes the tomb of the imagination, binding it in the depths of repression and making it sterile in the initiation of creative thought. It is the imagination, free from bondage, that offers the fertile possibility for creating a new understanding and a new future. It is the unbiased imagination, unrepressed, that can draw from memory’s storehouse the stuff to dream possibility. As the feeder of our cognition, the imagination is the creative architect of our human future. Bibliography Crowe, Frederick E. “The Role of a Catholic University in the Modern World”-An Update. Communicanting a Dangerous Memory, Soundings in Political Theology. Fred Lawrence, ed. Atlanta, Georgia: Scholars Press, 1987: 1-16. Doran, Robert M. “Psychic Conversion,” The Thomist, 1977: 200-236. —– “Soul Making and the Opposites,” Psychic Conversion and Theological Foundations. Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1981: 137-154 (especially 148 ff.). —– Subject and Psyche. Milwaukee, Marquette University Press, 1994 (Second Edition): 197-228. Lonergan, Bernard J. F.  Insight: A Study of Human Understanding. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, Frederick E. Crowe and Robert M. Doran, eds., 1992: 210-219. —– Method in Theology. London: Darton, Longman & Todd, 1971. —– Collection. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, Frederick E. Crowe and Robert M. Doran, eds., 1988. —– A Second Collection: Papers by Bernard J. F. Lonergan, S.J., William F. J. Ryan, S.J. and Bernard J. Tyrrell, S.J., eds. London: Darton, Longman & Todd, 1974. Schepers, Maurice. “Discovery of Mind and Psyche in the Development of the Theologian: The Conjunction of Intellectual and Affective Conversions,” African Christian Studies 7:3 (September 1991): 36-45. [1] This triad was suggested to me by the Jungian and Lonergan scholar Robert M. Doran, S.J. of Marquette University. [2] The differentiation of consciousness into distinct levels of operation that can be empirically verified by self-observation is the unique contribution of economist, philosopher, theologian Bernard Lonergan, S.J. Insight provides an introduction to only the first three levels dealing with cognition. The fourth level of evaluative judgment and decision appears in Method, chapter one, and the impact of religious love can be found in chapter four. [3] This term is used by Lonergan in chapter four of Method (107) and his explanation of it is “the peak of the soul.” [4] Lonergan treats dramatic bias with more length in Insight than the other three biases (individual egoism, group egoism, and general or theoretical bias). Establishing its capacity to shut down inquiry, he then drops it. It took Doran to approach him on this, only to be told, “You do it; I was interested in cognition.” So the treatment of dramatic bias through psychic conversion became a focus for Doran’s work as is clear from the entries in the bibliography below. [5] The term scotosis appears several times in Insight (e.g.215). Lonergan describes it as an unconscious process, a blind spot, a censorship that  “governs the emergence of psychic contents.” SuperUser Account Mon, 25 Oct 2010 20:05:00 GMT f1397696-738c-4295-afcd-943feb885714:87 http://www.ai.edu/Resources/Blogs/AquinasMatters/tabid/216/articleType/ArticleView/articleId/88/A-Tale-of-Two-Killings.aspx#Comments 0 http://www.ai.edu/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/RssComments.aspx?TabID=216&ModuleID=743&ArticleID=88 http://www.ai.edu/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/Tracking/Trackback.aspx?ArticleID=88&PortalID=0&TabID=216 http://www.ai.edu/Resources/Blogs/AquinasMatters/tabid/216/articleType/ArticleView/articleId/88/A-Tale-of-Two-Killings.aspx Two disparate cases have more in common than we might think Charles E. Bouchard, O.P. and Richard Peddicord, O.P. At first glance the death of an unborn child at St. Joseph’s Hospital in Phoenix and the death of convicted criminal Ronnie Lee Gardner in Draper, Utah, appear to have little in common. Yet analysis shows that both of them are governed by the Church’s teaching on the direct taking of innocent human life, by the technical but widely used principle of double effect, and by the principle of moral cooperation. It is not clear that these principles were applied equally in both cases. In Phoenix, the life of the mother was threatened by a rare but dangerous condition that made it impossible for her to carry the child to term; attempting to do so would almost certainly have resulted in the death of both mother and child. The hospital’s ethics committee allowed the termination of the pregnancy. They apparently did so because they judged the case to be analogous to others, like uterine cancer or ectopic pregnancy in which therapeutic actions intended to cure the pathology have the unintended but inseparable effect of the death of the unborn child. Some moral theologians analyzed the Phoenix case and agreed that it was an indirect and therefore permissible abortion. Bishop Thomas Olmstead of of Phoenix, however, saw the case differently. In his analysis, the mother’s situation did not meet the criteria of the principle of double effect. He judged the abortion to be an intentional choice to save the mother’s life by means of the child’s death. Because in his judgment this constituted a direct abortion, he declared that everyone else involved in the decision or the procedure itself had incurred excommunication. Utah: Capital Punishment, Innocence and Double Effect There is no doubt that Ronnie Lee Gardner’s killing was direct. He was strapped to the wall, a target was sewn to his chest over his heart, and five executioners (four of whom had real bullets in their rifles) fired on cue. Gardner was dead within moments. The popular analysis of this case is a variation on an “eye for an eye.” Gardner had committed robbery and two murders. He was a convicted criminal and had to to pay for his crime by death. This popular view is not consistent with Church tradition because Gardner’s death was also governed by the church’s teaching that killing an innocent person is never permissible. This is the difficult part. Gardner was both morally and legally guilty, but in the Church’s teaching on direct killing, it is not moral innocence that is at stake. Killing another person, legally guilty or not, is morally tolerable only if it is an unintended, secondary effect of some form of self-defense. Latin etymology is instructive in this matter. The English word “innocent” comes from the Latin prefix “in” (in English, “not”) and the Latin “nocere” (in English “to harm or injure”). The Church’s teaching, reaffirmed by John Paul II in his encyclical Evangelium Vitae, has always been that the direct killing of the innocent is the epitome of moral evil. But who is innocent? It is simply someone who, in the here and now, is not posing a threat to anyone. In the Church’s teaching, “innocent” does not refer to moral innocence. Even though it sounds like a contradiction, someone who is guilty of murder and is being held in a maximum security prison qualifies as innocent. His or her death may not be the object of another’s intention. The simplest case is someone who is the victim of assault or armed robbery. If the victim judges that her life is in danger, she can take whatever steps are necessary to stop the aggressor and preserve her own life. But her intention can only go so far as self-defense. She can never directly intend death, even of someone who threatens her life. The moral object – the end toward which the action is directed – must, in this case, be defense of self or others. If the victim shoots and aims for an assailant’s shoulder or knee, but kills him in the process, her action should be judged as indirect (that is, foreseen but unintended) killing. However, if she tortures or strangles a burglar, it is impossible that the intention was simply self-defense. Even courts recognize this when they characterize a killing to be first degree murder, second degree murder, manslaughter or self-defense. It is all about intention. We find the same double effect reasoning in the just war theory. A nation may not initiate war except to protect itself (vengeance as an acceptable motive for war was ruled out long ago). An advancing army may not slaughter a village in order to secure a position, but may take whatever steps are necessary to defend national sovereignty or the life of its citizens, even if this results in unintentional “collateral” damage. An individual soldier may shoot to disable or to protect his own life, but he may not beat an opposing soldier to death out of anger. In each case, the principle of double effect insists that we may not intend death, but only tolerate it as an unintended secondary effect of a morally sound intention. In criminal matters, the state has a right and obligation to protect its citizens. In a social version of self-defense it may even resort to execution, but only if the criminal poses an immediate threat to citizens and cannot be contained or isolated in any other way. The criminal’s death cannot be the result of an act of vengeance; it can only be the unintended and secondary effect of the state’s attempt to protect its citizens. Moral complicity In the Phoenix abortion case, the bishop judged those who had approved and participated in the procedure to be guilty of moral cooperation; inasmuch as they knowingly shared in the intention of this direct killing, they were guilty of homicide. No such judgment was made in the Utah execution, however. Even though Bishop John Wester of Salt Lake City protested the execution, there was no suggestion that involvement in it or approval of it might constitute cooperation in a direct moral evil. In our judgment, Gardner was just as “innocent” –- in the sense of posing no threat to the populace—as the unborn child. In fact, his execution is a much clearer example of direct killing than the Phoenix case, in which certitude about moral intention is obscured by complex medical circumstances which few persons were even privy to, much less fully able to understand. The focus on capital punishment is usually about the criminal and what he or she “deserves.” But from a moral perspective, it is not about the criminal; it is about us and our growth in virtue. The virtue of temperance is not only about moderating our desire for food, drink and sex. It extends to satisfaction of all our desires, including those for anger, vengeance and retribution. The philosopher Seneca once said that there is a “certain roughness of soul” in those who do not shrink from causing others pain. Except in cases where it is absolutely necessary and where we as citizens and moral agents separate ourselves from direct killing by a very measured intention, direct killing motivated by anger or vengeance is a serious moral evil. The Phoenix abortion case and the Utah execution case differ in many ways, but they both remind us of the continuing usefulness of the principle of double effect and the crucial role of intention in assessing moral responsibility. Perhaps these cases will help us to refine our understanding of these two concepts. Fr. Charles Bouchard is Vice President for Theological Education at Ascension Health; Fr. Richard Peddicord is President and Associate Professor of Moral Theology at Aquinas Institute of Theology. Both live in St. Louis. SuperUser Account Wed, 29 Sep 2010 20:13:00 GMT f1397696-738c-4295-afcd-943feb885714:88 http://www.ai.edu/Resources/Blogs/AquinasMatters/tabid/216/articleType/ArticleView/articleId/89/Christian-Catholic-Spirituality.aspx#Comments 0 http://www.ai.edu/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/RssComments.aspx?TabID=216&ModuleID=743&ArticleID=89 http://www.ai.edu/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/Tracking/Trackback.aspx?ArticleID=89&PortalID=0&TabID=216 http://www.ai.edu/Resources/Blogs/AquinasMatters/tabid/216/articleType/ArticleView/articleId/89/Christian-Catholic-Spirituality.aspx A word that has become more and more common in religious writing and discussion in the last twenty-five years is “spirituality.” Writers in this field of study offer various definitions for spirituality, but a simple description that can be helpful in living the Christian life is to understand it as the way we put into practice what we believe; how we live our faith in the daily thoughts, words and actions of our lives. If we believe that we are called to love and forgive one another, how do we incorporate that belief in our human relationships, especially with the significant people in our lives? If we believe in the moral values of justice and charity, how do we bring those values into our work or professional lives? As we treat the other as we ourselves would like to be treated, we bring our faith and values into play in the experiences of our everyday lives. This simple way of understanding spirituality calls us to strive to bring congruence to our lives and thus to grow in authenticity and live our lives with increasing personal integrity. When we add the adjective “Christian” to spirituality it helps to define and describe that faith or set of beliefs that we are trying to put into practice in our lives. It is the teaching of Jesus Christ that forms our faith as Christians; it is what he taught us about who God is and how God wants us to live our life that is the very heart of our faith. The guidance of the Church helps us to apply Christ’s teachings to the present time and in the society and culture in which we live. American Christian spiritual writers like Thomas Merton and Henri Nouwen, Dorothy Day and Kathleen Norris have over the years helped Christians to weave together their faith and their daily lives. Christianity has always been a practical religion holding that what we believe and value must be useful in helping believers throughout their life-long pilgrimage, from birth to death. The totality of two thousand years of Christian wisdom is available to each of us as a resource for forming our expression of our living Christian spirituality. Although many Christian denominations hold beliefs in common (the centrality of Sacred Scripture, the divinity of Jesus Christ, the importance of the faith community as the Body of Christ ministering in the world, etc.) there are also differences in understanding and interpretation of the various tenets of Christianity. The distinctive teachings of the Roman Catholic Church, its unique tradition of practices and rituals, the very hierarchical structure of the Church are some examples of how the Catholic Church interprets and professes what is important to consider as we express our community’s faith and most importantly what is at the heart of living a Christian life in our denomination’s tradition. Catholics believe that regular participation in the Eucharist is essential to sustain one’s faith. Celebrating the Sacrament of Reconciliation with a community is also central to being able to grow in one’s relationship with God and our neighbor. Personal prayer as a way of communicating with God has been emphasized through the centuries as a key practice in the process of growing in holiness. These and many other teachings and customs form a valuable resource which is what is known as the guiding principles of Roman Catholic spirituality. Finally, each Roman Catholic Christian has to personalize his or her spirituality. This personalizing of spirituality takes place when we take into consideration the uniqueness of who we are as individuals. Knowing my personality, my gifts and limitations, my life goals, the significant relationships in my life, the vocation I am living, even my family of origin background has to be considered as I formulate the best way for me to live my faith in my daily life. This knowledge allows me to see more clearly what form of prayer is most beneficial to me. Because of my personality, I may be a person who is called to demonstrate boldly through public and prophetic expression what I believe about justice. As a married woman with young children, I may have to structure in some formal way, a time of solitude within my busy day to nourish my spiritual life. If I am someone who has struggled with an addiction and found a way to control it, I may be now in a position to offer my guidance and support to others who suffer from a similar addiction. These examples try to demonstrate how even as we accept a Roman Catholic interpretation of Christian spirituality, we still need to make it our own so that it fits with the person we truly are as we live our lives following the way of Jesus Christ. Spirituality, like the Sabbath, is made for us humans, not vice versa. We should explore our Christian spiritual tradition, especially as it has developed in the Roman Catholic community, so as to understand it as an important resource and support for our growth in our relationship with God and with our sisters and brothers. For in that growth comes a fuller understanding of who we are as individuals created in love and called to witness to the presence of God in the world. Harry M. Byrne, O.P. Aquinas Institute of Theology St. Louis, MO (First published in 2003; revised in 2010) SuperUser Account Tue, 14 Sep 2010 20:36:00 GMT f1397696-738c-4295-afcd-943feb885714:89 http://www.ai.edu/Resources/Blogs/AquinasMatters/tabid/216/articleType/ArticleView/articleId/90/The-Letter-to-Philemon.aspx#Comments 0 http://www.ai.edu/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/RssComments.aspx?TabID=216&ModuleID=743&ArticleID=90 http://www.ai.edu/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/Tracking/Trackback.aspx?ArticleID=90&PortalID=0&TabID=216 http://www.ai.edu/Resources/Blogs/AquinasMatters/tabid/216/articleType/ArticleView/articleId/90/The-Letter-to-Philemon.aspx Rev. Seán Charles Martin Paul’s letter to Philemon is the shortest letter that Paul ever wrote.  And while it does not address the great theological themes of his longer letters, themes like justification by faith, or the gifts of the Spirit in the life of the Church, or hope in the promised return of the Lord, the letter to Philemon gives us an intriguing glimpse into the mind of a man who, despite his own serious problems, takes the time and makes the effort to save someone whose difficulties are at least as serious as his own.  Paul is in prison as he writes this letter, perhaps his final imprisonment in Rome.  Yet his concern is not for himself – indeed, he seems to have thought that he would be released (see verse 22, where he mentions his upcoming plans to visit Philemon) – rather, his concern is for the fate of a young runaway slave named Onesimus. Background to the letter to Philemon While, technically, the Letter to Philemon is addressed to an individual (Philemon) and his wife (Apphia), and Archippus (probably their son), the letter is not private correspondence, meant solely for the eyes and ears of these three.  Philemon is the owner of the house in which the Christian community meets for their weekly liturgies (verse 2).  The house-church they hosted would have heard the letter proclaimed by the letter-bearer (probably Timothy) when the community gathered for its weekly liturgical assembly.  That house-church was probably relatively small – 15 or 20 people, at most – and would have comprised other members of Philemon’s household – his extended family, his employees, even his slaves. The ugliness and brutality of slavery forms the immediate backdrop for this letter.  So we have to imagine Philemon’s other slaves listening to Paul plead for the life of this runaway slave, Onesimus.   What might their reaction have been upon hearing this letter?  Hope that Paul’s words would be persuasive, and the boy’s life would be spared?  Resentment over the fact that Onesimus has escaped and has now returned without retribution?  Fear that perhaps Philemon will ignore Paul’s plea, and order the boy’s death? Paul and Philemon have known one another for a long time.  In the preface to the letter (verses 1-3), Paul calls Philemon his “co-worker” (synergos), a term usually reserved in the Pauline letters for Paul’s closest friends and associates, like Prisca and Aquila (Romans 16:3), Timothy (Romans 16:21; 1 Thessalonians 3:2), Titus (2 Corinthians 8:23), or Epaphroditus (Philippians 2:25).  Precisely because Paul and Philemon have enjoyed a long-standing friendship, Paul can make this extraordinary appeal on behalf of Onesimus. Why has Onesimus run away from his master, Philemon?  We will never be able to know; though, given the risks a runaway slave ran (see sidebar), Onesimus’ life as a slave must have been awful.  Somehow, Onesimus has made his way to Paul.  How did he do it?  Again, Paul’s letter gives no indication.  But it does seem clear that Onesimus has run to Paul for protection.  And this letter is one of the best ways than an imprisoned Paul can protect the runaway slave. Sidebar: Slavery and the Roman Empire Slaves constituted perhaps as much as 25% of the population in the Roman Empire.  You could become a slave in the Greco-Roman world in a couple of different ways.  You could be captured as a prisoner of war, for instance, and sold into slavery.  Or your debts could grow so large that the only way to pay them back would be to sell yourself, or even your family members, into slavery.  It is impossible to know, nearly 2000 years later, how Onesimus became a slave, though, since Paul calls him “my child” (teknon: v. 10), he may still have been quite young.  That might mean that his parents had sold him into slavery.  The fact that his name, which means “Useful,” was a common name for slaves in the Greek-speaking world, might indicate that he was actually born into slavery. To be a slave means that someone else owns your time, your work, your wages, and your energy – your owner even owns your body.  In ancient Rome, the lot of a slave seems to have been particularly difficult.  Martial, the first-century Latin poet renowned for his witty epigrams, upbraided his friend Rufus for harsh treatment of his enslaved cook: Esse negas coctum leporem poscisque flagella. Mauis, Rufe, cocum scindere quam leporem You say that the rabbit is not well-cooked, and ask for the whip; Rufus, you would rather carve up your chef than your rabbit. (Epigrammaton III.94) If a poorly prepared meal could merit a whipping for the one who cooked it, imagine the lot of a slave who tried to run away.  In fact, any act of disobedience was dealt with very harshly.  Runaway slaves could be put to death.  So when Paul writes Philemon, he is very diplomatically, but very definitely, pleading for the life of Onesimus. What is Paul’s interest in this runaway slave?  Once Onesimus runs away, he flees to Paul, and places himself under the apostle’s protection.  At some point during his time with Paul, Onesimus becomes a Christian.  In fact, Paul is the one who baptizes the young runaway, which is why Paul calls himself Onesimus’ father (v. 10). Onesimus’ new Christian identity places him in a new relationship with God, of course, but it also places him in a new relationship with other Christians.  He is no longer an outsider, but a brother to other members of the Christian community.  And we must remember that the churches of the Pauline mission prided themselves on welcoming slaves and masters, men and women, people who were born Jewish and people who were not.  Indeed, one of the antiphons sung at baptismal liturgies in the churches of the Pauline mission celebrated this inclusivity: “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male or female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:28). Religious identity and social realities But what happens when religious ideals clash with social realities?  Pauline Christians may well have welcomed slaves and masters alike to their worship, and set aside social distinctions based on nationality, class, and gender, but once the liturgy was concluded and people returned to their homes, those social realities reasserted themselves.  And we must remember that those social distinctions between persons of different nationalities, or between persons of different classes, or between persons of different genders were reinforced by Roman law itself, which gave some people – Romans, men, and slaveholders – more rights than those who were neither Roman, nor male, nor slaveholders. Which is to say that Onesimus’ new-found status as a Christian would not help him one bit, should he return to his master, Philemon.  His life would have been at terrible risk.  He certainly would have been tortured, and probably would have been killed.  He needed protection.  He needed a personal plea from Paul. Paul’s appeal to Philemon: verses 8-17 Paul’s language here is extraordinarily diplomatic.  He knows he can command Philemon to take back the runaway (verse 8), but he would rather Philemon do so out of love (agape).  Love for whom?  Paul?  Certainly, but also love for Onesimus himself, since now Onesimus belongs to the Christian community that Philemon has already shown himself to love so dearly (verse 5). In characterizing Onesimus, Paul’s language is full of contrasts: v. 11: formerly, he was useless to you but now, he is indeed useful, both to you and to me v. 12-13: I am sending him … to you I wanted to keep him with me v. 15: he was separated from you for a while so that you might have him back forever v. 16: no longer as a slave but … a beloved brother Paul’s language of contrast serves two purposes.  On the one hand, Paul acknowledges the loss Philemon has suffered, once Onesimus ran away.  From the slaveholder’s point of view, the one who was supposed to be useful (remember, that’s what Onesimus’ name means in Greek) has turned out to be useless.  The slave is gone.  The negative economic impact on the slaveholder cannot be underestimated.  And Paul recognizes that. But Paul’s language of contrasts is also meant to lead Philemon to acknowledge that a transformation has occurred in Onesimus.  Because the runaway is now a Christian, he has a supernatural bond with his master.  Onesimus has become Philemon’s brother.  You do not kill your brother, even if an unjust law might permit it.  And Paul wants Philemon to recognize that. Affection and Restitution: verses 17-19 Paul’s plea in this section takes two forms.  Since he himself is now Onesimus’ spiritual father, he wants Philemon to receive the runaway as though Onesimus were Paul himself.  In effect, Paul is saying, “If you’re my friend – and you are, there’s no doubt about it – you’ll take this kid back, because he’s like a son to me.” The other form Paul’s plea takes here is the promise of restitution.  Paul will pay Philemon back for whatever loss the slaveholder has incurred.  And he is quite definite about it: “I, Paul, am writing this with my own hand: I will repay it” (verse 19).  This raises an interesting question.  Did Onesimus steal from his master in the course of escaping from him?  Is the boy not just a runaway, but a thief also?  It is certainly possible.  If that is the case, then Paul is balancing the budget, so to speak.  Philemon has incurred a loss, and Paul is rectifying the account. It is also possible, however, that Paul is even willing to pay Philemon for the value of his (former) slave.  This would have been an extraordinary gesture on Paul’s part, and an extraordinary expenditure of money as well.  But it would have secured Onesimus’ life, since he would then have a new owner (Paul), and his former owner (Philemon) would no longer have any power over him. Mutual indebtedness: verses 19-21 Yet even as Paul assumes the debt that Onesimus owes to Philemon, he reminds Philemon of the debt that he owes to Paul: “I say nothing about your owing me even your own self” (verse 19).  It seems clear here that Paul was the one who was responsible for bringing Philemon into the household of faith.  From Paul’s point of view, this is a debt that can never be repaid, since what is at stake in Philemon’s debt to Paul is eternal life itself. Here we encounter the heart of Paul’s plea to Philemon.  In the light of what Philemon owes Paul, what Onesimus owes Philemon seems very paltry in comparison.  Paul’s diplomatic but pointed reminder of Philemon’s own enormous debt is reminiscent of the parable told by Jesus in Matthew 18:23-35, in which a king forgives one servant an astronomical debt – ten thousand talents, the equivalent of 150 years of wages – who then in turn refuses to write off a trivial sum of one hundred denarii owed him by another servant.  The king denounces the first servant: “You wicked slave!  …Should you not have had mercy on your fellow slave as I had mercy on you?” (Matthew 18:32, 33).  Paul’s language is less threatening, but the point cannot have been lost on Philemon. A promised visit and the example of Paul’s companions: verses 22-24 The body of the letter concludes with another request: “Prepare a guest room for me, for I am hoping through your prayers to be restored to you” (verse 22).  It seems cheeky, by our standards, to ask for guest accommodations on top of everything else Paul is demanding of Philemon.  Yet we must recall that in the first century – long before there were super-highways and hotel chains – travelers depended upon the hospitality of a network of friends and associates as they made their way across country.  Paul is asking from Philemon no more than any traveler would have asked from a friend.  There may be, however, the slightest hint that this upcoming visit will also include an enquiry after the well-being of Onesimus.  The boy had better be okay. The greetings that conclude the letter (verse 23-24) demonstrate that, even though Paul is imprisoned, he is not isolated.  He has Epaphras, whom he calls a “fellow prisoner,” and with whom he is confined, but he also has, presumably as visitors and care-givers, Mark, Aristarchus, Demas, and Luke – all of whom, like Philemon, are “fellow workers” (synergoi).  Early Christians took very seriously the command of the Lord to visit those in prison (Matthew 25:36).  Such visits were not merely social.  Mark, Aristarchus, Demas, and Luke would have been bringing food, drink, and clothing for Paul and Epaphras – for the two would certainly not have been fed or clothed by the prison officials!  Paul’s visitors are quite literally his life-savers.  There is a lesson for Philemon here too.  Just as Mark, Aristarchus, Demas and Luke preserve Paul from death, so should Philemon preserve Onesimus from death. Was Paul’s plea successful? The fact that the letter was preserved argues that Philemon heard Paul’s entreaty, took his message to heart, and spared the life of Onesimus.  There are legends – probably impossible to verify – that Onesimus later became a bishop in Colossae.  The legends assume that Paul’s words did not go unheeded, and that the runaway slave was not only accepted back into the community from which he had escaped, but that later in his life, he rose to a position of leadership. Moral Issues While we (rightfully) see slavery today as morally repugnant, many people in the first century seem to have been blind to the moral problem of slavery, given how widespread it was.  Furthermore, it is important to note that nowhere in the letter to Philemon does Paul raise a principled objection to the very institution of slavery.  It is probably unrealistic on our part to expect Paul to have objected to the institution of slavery.  He was enmeshed his culture, just as we are enmeshed in ours.  Furthermore, his own eschatological expectations – that Lord was returning any day now, and that the world as we presently experience it will be completely and utterly transformed – led him away from a concern with the problem of constructing a just society, one that recognizes the God-given dignity and value of every human person, irrespective of their nationality, language, class, or gender. In reading the letter to Philemon, we will need to grapple with the question of our own moral blindness.  What practices in our world will subsequent generations look back on and wonder, “How could they have allowed such a thing to go on?” SuperUser Account Fri, 20 Aug 2010 20:38:00 GMT f1397696-738c-4295-afcd-943feb885714:90 http://www.ai.edu/Resources/Blogs/AquinasMatters/tabid/216/articleType/ArticleView/articleId/91/A-Spirituality-of-Healing-Sacramental-Moments-for-the-Pilgrim-Spirit.aspx#Comments 0 http://www.ai.edu/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/RssComments.aspx?TabID=216&ModuleID=743&ArticleID=91 http://www.ai.edu/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/Tracking/Trackback.aspx?ArticleID=91&PortalID=0&TabID=216 http://www.ai.edu/Resources/Blogs/AquinasMatters/tabid/216/articleType/ArticleView/articleId/91/A-Spirituality-of-Healing-Sacramental-Moments-for-the-Pilgrim-Spirit.aspx A dynamic personal spirituality embraces those sacred moments when God enters into our lives to bring care and healing. Becoming aware of these occasions enables us to enrich and bring greater meaning to the pilgrimage that we call our faith life. Spirituality can be described as how we humans put into practice what we value and believe, in our hearts and minds, into our everyday lives. It is how we attempt to live out what is most important to us through our words and actions, within ourselves and in our relationships, in work and play. Christian spirituality is focused on the beliefs and values first taught by Jesus Christ through his proclamation of Good News (Gospel) and that has been handed down through the centuries in the Christian community (the Church) in the form of our living tradition of faith. The sacraments have been part of that tradition from the beginning in Jesus’ own ministry and have developed from his own words and actions into the special celebrations that we as Christians participate in communally as signs of our faith. It is particularly in the sacramental moment that we are empowered by the Holy Spirit, nourished by God’s love, to more fully live our Christian vocations. Healing plays a significant role in these sacramental celebrations and especially brings the grace of God into those areas of our lives that need to be healed and made whole again. The goal of healing is to help a person to be restored to wholeness. This is accomplished by guiding the person to move beyond his or her previous limiting condition to a new sense of self. The wholeness which pastoral sacramental healing seeks to bring about is not the simple restoration to one’s former state, but rather a healing and mending which hopefully enables the suffering person to integrate the realities of their condition into a new wholeness of self living in the world. Both in the experience of being healed and participating in the healing of others our own faith is deepened, our belief in the care and power of God who is with us every moment of our lives strengthens our commitment to follow the way of Jesus. With our personal Christian spirituality enriched, we can strive ever more faithfully to live what we have experienced for ourselves and so now believe. Harry M. Byrne, O.P. SuperUser Account Thu, 05 Aug 2010 20:40:00 GMT f1397696-738c-4295-afcd-943feb885714:91