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Mary, Virgin Most Faithful |
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Written by Monsignor Michael F. Hull, S.T.D.
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Sunday, 22 March 2009 09:58 |
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On Wednesday, we celebrate the Solemnity of the Annunciation of the Lord. We celebrate Mary’s “yes”—“Let it be done to me according to your word”—to the Angel Gabriel. Mary agreed to God’s will that she be the mother of Jesus; thus she is the most faithful of virgins, women, and all of us.
In her Litany, the Blessed Virgin Mary is invoked as “Virgin Most Faithful.” Mary’s instantaneous and unmitigated response to the Archangel Gabriel grounds the appropriateness of this title. From the moment of the Annunciation by Gabriel, Mary’s reply has been the apex of the Christian assent of intellect and will in the obedience of faith: “Behold, I am the servant of the Lord; let it be done to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38). So important was Mary’s testament of faith that St. Augustine of Hippo says, “Mary is more blessed for her perceiving the faith of Christ than for conceiving the flesh of Christ” (Sermo 72/A.7). As the new Eve, Mary upends the defiance and incredulity of Eve (and Adam). St. Irenaeus of Lyons writes, “the knot of Eve’s disobedience was untied by Mary’s obedience: what the virgin Eve bound through her disbelief, Mary has loosened by her faith” (Adversus Haereses, 3.22.4; cf. Lumen Gentium, no. 56). It is in Mary that we, “the poor banished children of Eve,” find the exemplar of faith in Christ; it is from Mary that we beg intercession and protection from denial and doubt in faith, so that “we made be made worthy of the promises of Christ.”
The Lord himself attests Mary’s faith-filled example. When from a crowd a woman cries out, “Blessed is the womb that bore you, and the breasts that you sucked,” Jesus responds, “Blessed rather are those who hear the word of God and keep it” (Luke 11:27–28; cf. Matt 12:46–50; Mark 3:32–35; Luke 8:21). In other words, the hallmark of discipleship—hearing the word of God and keeping it, the very thing that Mary did so perfectly at the Annunciation—is best illustrated not in Mary’s fecundity but in her Fiat. This exemplarism continues from the Incarnation to the Crucifixion, for Mary stands at the foot of Calvary. Immediately before surrendering his spirit, Jesus entrusts St. John to his mother, “Woman, behold, your son,” and commends Mary as the model extraordinaire to St. John, “Behold, your mother” (John 19:26–27). “Thus the Blessed Virgin advanced in her pilgrimage of faith, and faithfully persevered in her union with her Son unto the Cross, where she stood, in keeping with the divine plan, enduring with her only begotten Son the intensity of his suffering, associated herself with his sacrifice in her mother’s heart, and lovingly consenting to the immolation of this victim which was born of her” (LG, no. 58).
Likewise, Mary’s intercessory role is evidenced in the Lord’s earthly life. It is with the Wedding at Cana that Mary’s compassion is highlighted. When the wine runs short, she turns to intercede on behalf of her friends to her Son. So secure is her faith—“the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen” (Heb 11:1)—that she does not pause for a verification after having told Jesus of the problem. Instead, she turns straightaway to the servants to say: “Do whatever he tells you” (John 2:1–11; cf. LG, no. 58). In other words, her absolute faith knows no hesitancy: once asked, her Son’s beneficence is assured for their hosts at Cana. And it is assured for us. “By her maternal charity, she cares for the brethren of her Son, who still journey on earth surrounded by dangers and difficulties, until they are led into their blessed home. Therefore the Blessed Virgin is invoked in the Church under the titles of Advocate, Helper, Benefactress, and Mediatrix” (LG, no. 62).
For two thousand years, the sterling instance of Mary’s faith has stood efficaciously before the sons and daughters of the Church for inspiration and imitation. For two thousand years, Mary has mediated our petitions to her Son. Therefore, it is right and just that we should cry out: “ Mary, Virgin Most Faithful, pray for us!” |
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The Immorality of Human Cloning |
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Written by Monsignor Michael F. Hull, S.T.D.
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Sunday, 15 March 2009 00:00 |
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President Barack Obama signing of an executive order that allows federal spending for embryonic stem-cell research is travesty for many reasons, not the least of which is the potential for such federally-funded research to lead to human cloning. The President says that human cloning is “dangerous, profoundly wrong” and has no place in society, but we are certainly on a slippery slope toward it at this point.
Pope Paul VI, in his encyclical letter Humanae vitae (July 25, 1968), warned against the danger of separation of the unitive and procreative aspects of the conjugal act, which “most closely uniting husband and wife capacitates them for the generation of new lives” (no. 12), to the effect that artificial birth control would initiate a slippery slope of moral denigration and disregard for life (no. 17).
Paul’s prescience was acute. As worldwide society detached love (unity) from life (procreation), divorce and fornication arose to the detriment of innumerable families. As worldwide society detached life from love, abortion and infanticide (euphemized as “partial-birth abortion”) arose to the detriment of the entire human family. The latest disregard of love and life is human cloning.
Mindful of contemporary attempts to clone human beings, the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith issued an Instruction entitled Donum vitae (February 22, 1987). Donum vitae notes that “attempts or hypotheses for obtaining a human being without any connection with sexuality through ‘twin fission,’ cloning, or parthenogenesis are to be considered contrary to the moral law, since they are in opposition to the dignity both of human procreation and of the conjugal union” (no. I.6).
Human cloning is twice immoral. It is the ultimate separation of love and life to the extent not only of perverting the conjugal act vis-à-vis the absence of loving unity in in vitro fertilization, but also to the extent of nullifying the natural fusion of the male and female gametes (sperm and egg) in the procreation of human life.
Proponents of human cloning often distinguish between reproductive cloning (cloning with the intent of producing embryos to be reared as children) and therapeutic cloning (cloning with the intent of producing embryos for biomedical research). This is a distinction without a difference: the methods and results of such production are the same, namely, human lives are wrought. This distinction, differentiating only secular ultimate ends, is contemptuous of the rights of the human beings to be fashioned.
In the first instance, such cloning would produce human beings who are the genetic doubles of already living or deceased persons. Born without mother or father, outside the course of natural procreation, such persons would be bereft of identity, should they be allowed to reach maturity. And in the darkest moments, they are human beings who are destined to be nothing more than a conglomeration of spare parts to be harvested by their human originators.
In the second instance, such cloning would produce human beings who are the guinea pigs of science run amok. Born without mother or father, outside the course of natural procreation, such beings would be corralled like laboratory rats or cattle, should they be allowed to live more than a few days. And in the darkest moments, they are human beings who are destined to be tortured, mutilated, dismembered, or murdered in unbridled experimentation. Human cloning, for reproduction or therapy, is repugnant to human dignity and to God’s will for those whom He created in His own image and likeness (Gen 1:26–27).
Although a number of nations have enacted legislation to ban or limit human cloning, reckless and irresponsible technicians practice human cloning nonetheless. Humanity is too far along on a slippery slope to a barbarism hitherto unknown in human history. Human cloning must be stopped, despite any scientific advances it might yield, for man’s destiny is not ultimately fulfilled in this life. “Let all be convinced that human life and its transmission are realities whose meaning is not limited by the horizons of this life only: their true evaluation and full meaning can only be understood in reference to man’s eternal destiny” (Gaudium et spes, no. 51).
Pray and work for President Obama to reconsider.
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Prayer and the Spiritual Life |
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Written by Monsignor Michael F. Hull, S.T.D.
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Sunday, 08 March 2009 01:40 |
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Lent is a time for prayer above all things. St. John Damascene says, “Prayer is the ascent of the mind to God or the beseeching of good from him” (De Fide Orthodoxa 3.24; cf. St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae II-II, q. 83). Prayer is our response to God’s love; it is an act of the virtue of religion wherewith we acknowledge the omniscience and omnipotence of God vis-à-vis the First Commandment (ST, II-II, q. 81).
Prayer is the foundation of the spiritual life, because it is in prayer that we raise our minds to the Father in the goodly aspiration to lead a life on this earth in imitation of the Son, under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, so that we might enjoy eternity in the company of that same Holy Trinity and the saints.
Prayer is vocal (common or individual) or mental (affective or contemplative) in adoration, petition, intercession, thanksgiving, and praise. The model of prayer is the Lord’s Prayer, the “Our Father” (Matthew 6:9–13 and Luke 11:2–4), which is the perfect balance of our recognition of and dependence upon God; the model of the spiritual life is the Lord’s life, which is the perfect example of virtue and holiness.
St. Paul reminds us: “Rejoice always, pray constantly, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you” (1 Thessalonians 5:17). Insofar as prayer is the lifting of the mind and heart in response to God, the spiritual life is the constant and consistent life of prayer that has as its end union with God. Such a union is begun in this life and continues into the afterlife. The Church teaches us that “all Christians in any state or walk of life are called to the fullness of Christian life and the perfection of love” (Lumen Gentium, no. 40).
The bedrock and irreplaceable foundation of the “fullness of Christian life and the perfection of love” is prayer. Thus, it behooves each of us to inculcate a life of prayer in order to lead a spiritual life. That is, there is no such thing as a spiritual life that does not begin and end in prayer, “in the ascent of the mind to God or the beseeching of good from him.” What better time is there than Lent to focus on prayer and the spiritual life?
St. Paul reminds us: “For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain” (Philippians 1:21). The spiritual life is a participation in the Love that proceeds from the Father and the Son, namely, the Holy Spirit (cf. John 14:16, 23). The art of prayer, first introduced by the Lord in his own prayer, and careful attention to the things of God, inaugurate the spiritual life. Imitating the virtue and the holiness of the Lord and begging for the indwelling of the Spirit, we are enabled to offer fitting praise and acts of charity in the spiritual life. This spiritual life has its impetus and its fruits in the spiritual works of mercy.
It is precisely by the indwelling of the Spirit that we enjoy sanctifying grace, that the soul is lifted above the natural to the supernatural, and that are brought closer to union with God, whose “love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit which has been given to us” (Romans 5:5). So long as we remain in the Spirit in this life, physical death (and any concomitant suffering) can be gain only, as it brings us to the beatific vision where all that remains is love.
Prayer is the hallmark of our spiritual life, because it was the hallmark of Jesus’ earthly life. “In the days of his flesh, Jesus offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to him who was able to save him from death, and he was heard for his godly fear” (Hebrews 5:7).
Prayer is our response to the Father’s grace in imitation of the Son through the Spirit. In the spiritual life, we seek to know Christ, to experience the power of his resurrection, to share in his suffering, and to become like him in his death, so that we may attain “the resurrection from the dead” (Phil 3:10–11). Let us be sure that prayer, the hallmark of any spiritual life, is the hallmark of our Lenten journey. |
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Written by Monsignor Michael F. Hull, S.T.D.
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Sunday, 01 March 2009 00:00 |
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The liturgical use of ashes in the Church dates back to well before the eighth century. Ashes have a long history in the Bible itself, where they are a symbol of penance, and were used in the Church as a general sign of repentance before being prescribed for Ash Wednesday at the beginning of Lent. We use ashes to this very day; we used them just a few days ago. Through the efficacy of the priest’s blessing, ashes are made a sacramental. And when they are imposed, they are imposed for a simple reason: to give an exterior sign to an interior spirit of humility and penance.
There are a number of instances in the Old Testament when ashes are invoked as a sign of penitence. For example, with Tamar, who “put ashes on her head, and rent the long robe which she wore; and she laid her hand on her head, and went away, crying aloud as she went” (2 Samuel 13:19). Or with the people of Israel, who “assembled with fasting and in sackcloth, and with ashes upon their heads” before the prophet Nehemiah (Nehemiah 9:1). But the most illustrious instance is with the king and people of Nineveh, pagans, when they repented in sackcloth and ashes at the preaching of Jonah, thus averting the punishment that God planned to mete out to them (Jonah 3:6–10).
In the New Testament, Jesus makes direct reference to the need for repentance on the part of communities vis-à-vis Nineveh when he laments so many have not responded to his miracles because they did not want to repent: “Woe to you, Chorazin! Woe to you, Bethsaida! For if the mighty works done in you had been done in Tyre and Sidon, they would have repented long ago in sackcloth and ashes. But I tell you, it shall be more tolerable on the day of judgment for Tyre and Sidon than for you” (Matthew 11:21–22; see also Luke 10:13–14). Tyre and Sidon are pagan cities, cities that received especially harsh condemnation from the prophets Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel in the Old Testament. Yet, Jesus tells us that had those early pagans seen his mighty works they would have repented. Jesus is aghast at his contemporaries’ refusal to do so. He “upbraids” them “because they did not repent” (Matthew 11:20).
We have ashes imposed on our foreheads as an exterior sign of our interior desire to repent. There is a medieval rite preserved in liturgical texts wherein a dying person was sprinkled with ashes and holy water. The priest would say, “Remember you are dust and unto dust you will return.” To which the priest would add, “Are you content with sackcloth and ashes in testimony of your penance before the Lord on the day of judgment?” And the dying person would respond, “I am content”; in other words, “I am repentant.” Ashes here, as with our current use on Ash Wednesday, do not effect anything in and of themselves; rather they betoken a disposition of mind and soul.
So, why ashes? Why did we have ashes imposed on our foreheads on Ash Wednesday? Because we are sorry, repentant, for our sins, for our offences against the Almighty. For this reason, we have undertaken the discipline of Lent. The ashes are an outward manifestation of our inward prayer, taken from the prayers of King David in the Psalms: “Have mercy on me, O God, according to thy steadfast love; according to thy abundant mercy blot out my transgressions. Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin!” (Psalm 51:1–2). They are also a sign to the world and to ourselves of the promises of God, “not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance” (2 Peter 3:9). We are marked with ashes as the sign of a new beginning. We are mindful of the fact that in terms of our mortal bodies we are dust and to dust we will return (cf. Ecclesiastes 3:20). We are confident that with contrite hearts and God’s good grace our ashes signify turning away from sin and faith in the Gospel (cf. Mark 1:15). |
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