The Second Fall

Romano Guardini's concept of the "Second Fall" is a main theme in "The Lord". He tells the story of Christ's life in terms of how the people of the time (and by extension, of all times - our modern times included) reacted to him. He contrasts how the Hebrews should have responded to the Lord - gladly, with open arms and cheerful heart, ushering in the Kingdom on Earth - with how they did react - fearfully, with closed minds and stony hearts, accepting the hour of darkness to avoid coming to grips with the Lord's message.

He compares the rejection and murder of the Lord with our first Fall. The consequences of Adam's sin echo in every soul to this very day: the difficulty of controlling our desires, the wish to exalt our egos in lonely isolation instead of accepting God's rule. The consequences of this second Fall are still with us as well: the difficulty of establishing and maintaining our faith, the wish to exalt our individualistic understanding of Scripture over the deposit of faith as handed down by the Church.

This book is so interesting, so packed with insight, so clearly written, that like "The City of God" I recommend it for all Christian readers. Just today I read beautiful chapters on the Church, the nature of revelation, and the meaning of the little child parables ("unless you become as a little child..."). I wish I had time to write in detail on all of it!

Romano Guardini on being born again

Today I read Part 2, Chapter 12: "Rebirth in Water and the Holy Spirit". The starting point is Christ's conversation with Nicodemus in John 3.

We can see only that for which we have an eye; can grasp only that which is somehow related to us. Therefore, he who would behold the kingdom must be reborn into a new existence.
(Guardini, p 168)

As so often in the Gospel of John, the words are not symbolic at all. Our Lord is not talking about a new point of view, or seeing things from a new perspective.

Christ insists: a new creation, a second birth must take place (naturally, in the spirit). However, "spirit" here does not mean the opposite of body. Nor is it recognition and wisdom, nor yet what later philosophy was to call objective spirit: culture in all shades of the word's meaning. In the language of Holy Scripture, man and everything concerned with him is "flesh" - 'from below'. The Spirit Jesus refers to comes 'from above', it is sent by the Father: Pneuma, Holy Spirit.
(Guardini, p168-169, emphasis his)

Guardini sees the Holy Spirit as bridging the divide between the Father and men, so that "the creature enjoys community of life and of heart with his Creator" (p 170). Love between men can break down the barriers between them, so that what was "I, mine", versus "you, yours", becomes a singular "ours"; not a mixture or a blending, but a new thing.

Something similar, however divinely different, happens between man and God, though here it is the love of God himself which is active, the Holy Spirit. He creates the new existence in which man lives in God, and God receives man into his own. Foundation of such love is Jesus Christ, the Son of God become man. Through faith and participation in the act of salvation any Christian may share in the divine love: that is the new birth and the new love which springs from it.
(Guardini, p 170)

Now we come to the heart of the passage. How is all this possible? How can we ever enjoy a communion of love with what is utterly holy?

There on the one hand stands Christ with his chosen ones, radiating the beauty and plenitude of God; and here am I, entangled in myself, heavily forged to my own dark paltriness; how can I ever cross over to him? How, ever escape from myself to share in all that is he? Jesus replies: You never will - alone. Do not hope to be able, however slowly, to comprehend. Do not reason thus: what he says is true, I must hasten to join him. That would measuring Christ by your own standards, and it would not be he you encountered 'over there', but yourself - you would have walked in a circle. No, you must let go, renounce all hope of self-illumination, fling the measuring rod of reason and experience to the winds and venture the call: Lord, come - send me your Spirit that I may be recreated! .... Our part is simply to let go. Confidence in our own understanding, purity of attitude, excellence of personal effort, faithfulness to character, the sterling quality of the historical or cultural elements of the past - all this has been preparatory and important. But now the moment has come to put it aside. To become a Christian means to go to Christ on the strength of his word alone; to trust solely in his testimony. Blind acceptance of what remains unclear, unreasonable is part of this step and belongs essentially to the "foolishness" of the crossing over (1 Cor. 1:23).
(Guardini, p 171-172, emphasis his)

I wrote earlier about the beauty and truth of the faith. And the Faith is both true and beautiful, and its beauty draws many people to it. But as Guardini points out, all that truth and beauty doesn't mean a thing if it doesn't lead to interior conversion. It is easily possible to appreciate the breadth and depth of Catholic philosophy without actually leading a Catholic life. So what does it take to drive out the Old Man, replacing him with the New (to use St. Paul's terminology)? I came to the Faith because I had a terrible burden of sin and the Faith held out the hope of overcoming it; although I didn't think precisely in those terms at the time. Joining the Catholic church requires only some study and a singular act of faith. With the act of faith made and membership in the Church established, what then?

The answer comes from all the saints and the prophets: constant prayer, and frequent reception of the sacraments. (And by this I mean frequent reception of the only 2 sacraments that can be received frequently: the Holy Eucharist, and Penance).

Prayer is how you drive the Faith into your subconscious. It is the tool I used (and still use) to wedge out my old thoughts, thought patterns, and ways of thinking; and invite Christ in the Holy Spirit to replace them. Daily prayer - 10 to 15 minutes of good solid contemplative prayer - is an essential part of my armor in this spiritual battle.

Frequent reception of the sacraments is how God lends us his strength. Frequent Confession leads us to desire only Christ in our lives, and helps root out our attachment to venial sin. I picture venial sin as weeds in a garden; you can still appreciate the garden - venial sin does not destroy the soul - but it takes away to vitality and beauty of the flowers. Frequent reception of the Adorable Sacrament conforms us ever closer to Christ and gives us a horror of sin that would separate us from Him who is all loving and deserving of all our love. I go to Confession every two or three weeks, and Mass usually 6 times a week (missing Saturday).

One last point Guardini makes in this wonderful, luminous chapter. Baptism - being re-born in the spirit - is the beginning of the journey. "To be borne again in God is also only a beginning, an infancy. We are children of God when we are "born of water and the Holy Spirit", but we have yet to become the sons and daughters of God that we have been empowered to become." (p172 - 173) This is one more thing I love about the Faith: the emphasis on growth in the Faith, continuous conversion, and the constant desire to imitate Christ more faithfully.

Romano Guardini: The Lord

After finishing "The Hidden Manna", I have turned to Romano Guardini's beautiful book "The Lord". It is a set of extended meditations on Our Lord's life and teachings, written like a conversation or a homily rather than a technical theological treatise. In this way it is similar to the other two treatments of Our Lord's life that I've read (both written after "The Lord"): Fulton Sheen's "Life of Christ" and Frank Sheed's "To Know Christ Jesus".

Like any decent treatment of God's life on earth the book is so rich in insight and so critical to proper understanding of ourselves that I can't really do it justice in this blog. You will be well served to first read the gospels themselves, then get this book yourself (and the other two I mentioned). I'm now keeping a journal to help me keep track of passages I'd like to blog about, and every few pages I read of this book, I add another entry to my journal! Since I've already read the first 150 pages I have much to write about already.

One of the most striking passages is early on, in Guardini's treatment of Christ's temptation in the desert. I will quote extensively from Guardini's description of the effects of fasting (Jesus fasted for 40 days before his temptation):

At first only the lack of nourishment is felt; then, according to the strength and purity of the individual nature, the desire for food vanishes, not to return for several days. When the body receives no nourishment from without, it lives on its own substance; however, as soon as this self-calorification begins to attack the vital organs, a wild, elementary hunger is aroused, and life itself is threatened. Such was the hunger of Jesus in the wild.

Simultaneously, another, a psychic process takes place: the body becomes more supple, the spirit freer. Everything seems to grow lighter, detached. The burden of gravity itself grows less perceptible. The limits of reality begin to withdraw; the field of the possible to widen as the spirit takes things in hand. The enlightened conscience registers with greater sensitivity and power, and the will becomes increasingly decisive. The protective mechanisms of human nature which shield man from the hidden, threatening realms of existence beneath, above, and beyond him begin to fall away. The soul stands stripped, open to all forces. Consciousness of spiritual power increases, and the danger of overstepping the set limits of human existence, of confusing its dignity and its possibilities, grows acute: danger of presumption and magic, general vertigo of the spirit. When a deeply religious person undergoes these processes his soul can become involved in crises of extreme gravity and danger.

In just such a moment came the temptation by him who recognized in Jesus his greatest enemy.

(p 33-34, emphasis added)

This passage is about extensive fasting over several weeks but a shadow of such effects can be felt in ordinary fasting, even in the minor fast prescribed by the Church on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday. That is the purpose of these minor fasts: to strengthen our will and align ourselves more closely with Christ.

The passage struck me especially because ascetic practice has diminished considerably in the Church, especially in America, with devastating consequences. The purpose of ascetic practice is to strengthen the will to enable it to rule the body with reason and moderation. It is especially important for those in the consecrated life to give them the strength to live their life of continence and total devotion to Christ and the Father's Will.

The fascinating book "After Asceticism: Sex, Prayer and Deviant Priests" makes the case that is the decline in ascetic discipline and the life of prayer, with the attendant rise in the therapeutic mindset, that led to the shocking violations of the Faith uncovered in recent years; with more revelations almost certain to come.

Ascetic discipline and the life of prayer lead to a life of friendship with God and a proper understanding of your place in the world; psychology and therapy lead to a life of egoism and focus on the self.

As for myself I have taken some (very) minor steps in this direction, with an eye to strengthening my own will. Soda and chocolate, which used to be major parts of my life, are so no longer. This is not the major and extensive fasting and ascetic discipline practiced by, say, John the Baptist, but it has been a good step for me.

Last words on The Hidden Manna

I finished this wonderful book yesterday. The author talks about our (e.g., mine and yours) relationship with the Eucharist. The Eucharist is our physical link with Jesus; just like human friendship depends on at least occasional direct encounters with the other, our friendship with Christ derives from the physical intimacy with Christ in the Eucharist.

The flip side of this intimacy is the betrayal of unworthy reception of the Eucharist. Receiving the Eucharist while conscious of unconfessed grave sin is an act of adultery, a betrayal of the same friendship we were just discussing, just like a man continuing physical intimacy with his wife while partaking of an adulterous relationship with another.

This is why the Eucharist and Confession go hand in hand. The more we receive the Eucharist, the more conscious we are of God's great good will towards us, and the more conscious we become of when we fail to respond to the Lord's gift. Thus we feel more and more the need for frequent sacramental confession.

I personally used to go four, five, even six months at a time without Confession. During that time I committed the sacrilege of unworthy reception many times, although I hope the effect was mitigated due to the lack of clarity in my mind of the nature of my sin. Anyway, now I can hardly last three weeks without longing for the grace of Penance.

Mary and the Eucharist

The author's reflections on Mary and the Eucharist close the book.

First and most concretely, the Body we receive in the Eucharistic host is the same Body borne by Mary; the same Body that took its human flesh from her and that she nursed and cared for. In St. Augustine's words, she "gave milk to our Bread." Much of this book is taken up with the Church's path to this truth of the Faith and the various attempts to illuminate this mystery.

Second, Mary is an example of the devotion we all should feel when we approach the Eucharist. Like Jesus, Mary was unwaveringly faithful to the will of the Father. Such is the attitude that all of us should have when approaching the Eucharistic banquet. "Although it is equally fitting that those who receive Communion frequently or daily should be free from venial sin, at least from such as are fully deliberate, and from every affection thereto, nevertheless, it is sufficient that they be free from mortal sin, with the purpose of never sinning in the future; and if they have this sincere purpose, it is impossible but that daily communicants should gradually free themselves even from venial sins, and from all affection thereto." (from the decree Sacra Tridentina Synodus)

Third, Mary is chief among the saints, a leading light of the communion of saints, the Body of the Church that is formed by the Eucharistic communion. By partaking of the Eucharist we join in the Church Militant - the church on Earth, striving for sanctity; the Church Suffering - the poor souls in purgatory; and the Church Triumphant - the saints in heaven.

Faith and Reason

In closing I want to return to the most striking sentence in this book, halfway down page 123, speaking about the fourteenth century:

"The theological synthesis of the previous century was threatened by evidences of a strange and dangerous dichotomy between faith and reason." (Emphasis added)

This dichotomy, so much taken for granted today, is false. The Faith is reasonable; it is amenable to reason, can be explicated and illustrated by reason, and is in no way contradictory to reason. How can there be such a dichotomy? The one God made the earth and everything in it, including us men and our reasoning faculties; and he also gave us the divine Revelations in Sacred Scripture and handed down by Sacred Tradition. How can there be a dichotomy between what He made and what He revealed?

This means that the Faith is grounded in objective reality and that reasonable men can dispute, discuss, debate, rationally propose and oppose propositions of the Faith. Such is what men have been doing ever since there were men. Faith is not a matter of feelings, of what I feel like doing right now.

I have much more to say on this subject but it will have to wait for another day!

The beauty of the faith

Previously I talked about the Faith and being both intellectually satisfying and objectively true. It is also beautiful; the beauty of the faith may be the most important proof of its truth.

Jack Vance wrote a science fiction story where a young man ended up in an isolated community where lived a woman who was reputed to be the most beautiful woman in the known universe. She looked very plain to him at first. After some time, he noticed that she was in fact very pretty. Some time later, he realized that she was in fact even more beautiful than her reputation.

My experience of the Church is like that. At first the Church and the faith looked very plain; in fact, according to popular wisdom, the Church is ugly and unfashionable. The more I dug into the doctrine of the Faith and more I experienced the liturgy of the Mass, the more I found that was profound and deep and fine. The more I learn about the Faith, the more beautiful it seems.

For more on the beauty of faith you can consult "The Beauty of Holiness and the Holiness of Beauty: Art, Sanctity, and the Truth of Catholicism" by John Saward, and also "The Evidential Power of Beauty" by Thomas Dubay. I have the first on my bookshelf but haven't read it yet.

The Eucharist, conformation to Christ, and salvation

I'm coming to the end of "The Hidden Manna". The author's own reflections on the Eucharist comprise the last part of the book. A few things really stand out.

First, how the act of receiving the Eucharist conforms the receiver to Christ. The Church has always taught that, unlike natural food that becomes part of us, consuming the Eucharist results in us becoming like Christ. Christ's sacrifice on Calvary is an all-sufficent offering - good for all people at all times. But our hearts are not large enough to accept the offering all at once. Christ's gift is too big for any soul to accept. But each time we receive the Eucharist worthily, that reception enlarges our hearts and our souls so we can accept a little more of the gift - we can become a little more like Christ - a little less enslaved to the world. Once again this teaching conforms to my own experience. Attendance at each Mass - each reception at the host - is a blow against the hold of sin on me. Becoming like Christ requires constant efforts of the will; it is not a singular act of faith after which we can continue to live our lives the way we want, as so many Protestant faiths seem to preach. Each morning I try to make a new act of faith; a new turning of my soul towards the Lord and away from sin. A priest at my church used to say: When we face the sun, we can't see our shadow; when we face our shadows we can't see the sun.

The second thing that really caught my attention in the last part of this book is a continuation of the first: a discussion as to whether the Eucharist is necessary for salvation. The author holds that since reception of the Eucharist conforms us to Christ, and conformation to Christ is necessary for salvation, that for the most part, for most people, reception of the Eucharist is the normal path of salvation. It is the ordinary path that Christ meant for most people to follow. Certainly for me it is absolutely required. At this point in my life, for me to turn my back on the Church and the Mass would be equivalent to turning away from God, preferring myself to God. That would be a loss of salvation! The Church does teach that the Eucharist is not absolutely required for all people. It is the ordinary means but Christ also holds out the hope of extraordinary means; mostly this involves the intention and effort of the person to live according to God's law.

Trent and the Faith

Today's readings from "The Hidden Manna" were an in-depth treatment of the Council of Trent, which was the Church's reaction to the Reformation. The challenge of the reformers was met by the Council. By the way, the Council of Trent is where the "Tridentine Mass" comes from: the old-style Latin Mass that was superseded by the Novus Ordo Mass after Vatican II. Anyway, the decrees from Trent are a precise teaching of the Faith that had already been held for 1,500 years, but never formulated so clearly: that the Eucharist is the Body and Blood of Christ; that the substance of the bread and wine no longer exists (only the accidents remain); that the sacrifice of the Mass is a true sacrifice; that only properly consecrated priests may confect the Eucharist; that those aware of being in a state of mortal sin should not partake of the Host.

This might be a good time to explain why these matters hold so much interest for me. "The Hidden Manna" continues a kind of tour of the sacraments, starting with marriage ("Love and Responsibility"); then Holy Orders ("The Case for Clerical Celibacy"); then Confession ("Frequent Confession"). Before that, I read St. Augustine's "City of God". These are all very wonderful books; "City of God" and "Love and Responsibility" should be read by every Christian.

For me the subject matter is interesting first of all because it is very challenging. The philosophy and theology that form the Faith are very deep, broad, and profound, and eminently rewards the lifetime of effort that faithful Catholics should put into understanding their faith.

It is also rewarding because it is true. No other faith or philosophy captures the whole truth about the world and about human nature. Do you want to understand yourself? Do you want to understand the world? There is no better place to start than understanding the fullness of the Catholic faith.

I'll write more about the Faith and its role in my life soon.

Me and my blog

My name is David Miller, and the blog is about the books that I am reading. Typically I read a book about the Catholic faith on my commute, and a mystery / novel / fantasy at home.

Currently my Catholic book is "The Hidden Manna: A Theology of the Eucharist", an excellent history of Christian doctrine on the Blessed Sacrament. Today's reading considered the thinking of the Reformers: Martin Luther, John Calvin, and friends.

My other book is "Mosquitoes" by William Faulkner. Reading William Faulkner is the purest pleasure you can get from fiction. If you've never read Faulkner, do yourself a favor, and get your hands on "Flags in the Dust" or "The Reivers".

--
Dave