Newman, Vatican II and Ecclesial Movements

I offer an excerpt from Ian Ker's enjoyably lucid book entitled Newman on Vatican II (Oxford University Press, 2014). I think what Ker says here, drawing confidently from the store of Newman's mind, is important for us to think seriously about, particularly as he talks about the current cultural context affecting the growth of the movements. What he says also has implications as the Catholic Church in the United States increasingly encounters an ecclesial style formed by the Catholic experience in the Latin America. This text is found in Chapter 4, "The Charismatic Church". I heartily recommend this book be read in its entirety. 

También, ofrezco a continuación del texto en Inglés, una traducción al Español de estas líneas escritas por Ian Ker en su libro Newman on Vatican II (Oxford University Press, 2014). La traducción no es algo oficial, sino torpemente construida por la mano de un servidor, y pido disculpas del teólogo Inglés si por alguna razón se ofende. Sin embargo, me parece de tan alta importancia lo que dice que vale la pena tomar el riesgo. El teólogo de Oxford elabora una línea de pensamiento presente en los escritos del Cardenal Newman y tiene mucho que decir sobre lo que estamos viviendo en los EEUU. En particular toca el contexto cultural de los movimientos, y implica mucho sobre el encuentro entre el estilo eclesial de este país y los estilos variados de la Iglesia en Latinoamérica, estilos que sin duda son cada vez más actuales en los EEUU.

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Newman’s point can easily be applied to our own situation where an increasingly atomized and individualistic society, afflicted by the breakdown of marriage and family life, leads to much isolation and loneliness and loss of faith among Catholics whose needs the parish structure cannot meet but which can be met by the new ecclesial communities and movements. Newman’s condemnation of those, not least in the hierarchical part of the Church, who dismiss or even forbid the new charisms which the Holy Spirit has provided for our situation and our times, and not least for the marginalized, would, I suspect, be no less severe than his strictures here on the Protestants of his day who rejected religious life out of hand. Those in the post-Vatican II Catholic Church who think that diocese and parish are quite sufficient for the needs of the people and any new movements of the Spirit are at best unnecessary and at worst divisive might reflect on what Newman as an Anglican has to say at the beginning of his biographical sketch of St Antony, where he castigates ‘the tyranny of those who will not let a man do anything out of the way without stamping him with the name of fanatic’. This, Newman insists, the early Church did not do. Rather, it ‘deals softly with the ardent and impetuous, saying, in effect—“...You wish to live above the common course of a Christian;—I can teach you to do this, yet without arrogance.”’ (See Historical Sketches, ii.96) 

--Newman on Vatican II (Oxford University Press, 2014), Chapter 4, "The Charismatic Church", no. 3.

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El punto que hace Newman fácilmente se aplica a nuestra circunstancia actual donde una sociedad cada vez más atomizada e individualista, afligida por la disolución del matrimonio y la vida familiar, conduce al aislamiento y la pérdida de fe entre Católicos quienes tienen necesidades que la estructura parroquial no logra tocar pero que sí logran alcanzar las nuevas comunidades eclesiales y movimientos. La condenación de Newman de aquellos, no menos en la parte jerárquica de la Iglesia, quienes despiden o incluso prohíben los carísimas nuevos que el Espíritu Santo provee para nuestra circunstancia y nuestros tiempos, y no con menos atención al mundo marginalizado, no habría sido menos severo que sus críticas dirigidas a los protestantes de su tiempo quienes rechazaron sin pensar a la vida religiosa. Los que viven en la Iglesia después del Concilio Vaticano II y que piensan que la diócesis y la parroquia suficientemente atienden los menesteres del pueblo, y que [los movimientos] son superfluos, o peor, causas de división, podrían reflexionar sobre lo que dice Newman, aún Anglicano, cuando habla en los inicios de su perfil histórico de San Antonio el Abad, donde castiga la 'tiranía de aquellos que no dejan a un hombre hacer cualquier cosa fuera de camino sin marcarlo con el nombre de fanático'. Esto, insiste Newman, jamás hacia la Iglesia primitiva. Al contrario, ea 'trata suavemente con los ardientes y impetuosos, efectivamente diciéndoles-- "Desean vivir en cima del corriente común de un Cristiano; Yo [la Iglesia] te puedo enseñar como hacerlo, pero sin arrogancia. (Vea Historical Sketches, ii.96)    

--Newman on Vatican II (Oxford University Press, 2014), Chapter 4, "The Charismatic Church", no.3.

Tolkien and the Gold that does not Glitter

Commenting on Strider, the future King, Aragorn (The Fellowship of the Ring, Book 1, ch. 10), Gandalf says this:

"All that is gold does not glitter."

I have enjoyed The Lord of the Rings both in English and in its Spanish translation (edición Minotauro); the Spanish edition is of high quality and I have savored it for many years. It translates Gandalf's words in this way:

"No es oro todo que reluce."

For some time now the Spanish translation of this line has been a thorn in my mind. It seems not a felicitous rendering. The inexact translation of Tolkien's phrase actually provides an exact translation of another phrase, very common in English:

"All that glitters is not Gold."

I do not note this so as to criticize the Spanish edition. On the contrary, it seems to me very likely that many who read "The Lord of the Rings" in English think that the saying Tolkien wrote and the common saying basically mean the same thing. My disquiet arises from that ambiguity over what Tolkien wanted to say in English. The Spanish translation actually helps to clarify a not insignificant point about the profoundly Christian perspective of the great teller of tales.

If we take Tolkien's phrase in the sense of the Spanish (No es oro todo que reluce), the sense of the common English saying (All that glitters is not gold), then the meaning of the text falls like lead on the side of things that glitter. There is ever a danger that we will find false gold, fooling us by its glitter.

But it is clear that Tolkien was a master of language and idioms, and by changing the position of the key terms of the common saying (gold and glitter), Tolkien wanted to change the sense of the common saying. The common English phrase is precisely what Tolkien did not want to say; he wanted to say something quite different. Tolkien's phrase (All that is gold does not glitter), translated literally into Spanish, would sound like this:

"Todo que es oro no siempre reluce".

Note carefully, because the change signals something quite important. Tolkien's phrase places the focus upon something that does not glitter, or rather, on something which does not capture the eye. Such a man can also be gold. And Strider was such a one, a king who appeared as a common man, but was in fact quite noble. Tolkien's saying falls like a ray of light (lightly) on the side of what in fact is truly gold.

The common English saying (All that glitters is not gold) situates us in the environment of human desire. The one who seeks gold often becomes captivated by what he sees as shiny and glittery, fooled by a lack of discernment. The common saying invites us to discern between rocks that shine; Tolkien's saying, on the other hand, invites us to discern each rock.

Tolkien is aware of the enormous human capacity to notice only what glitters, losing thereby the ability to appreciate what is of real value. Tolkien thus teaches through the voice of Gandalf that in this world the best things tend to arrive in forms both simple and common. Those who are used to seeking the noble in obvious signs of majesty and power risk overlooking the presence of the truly noble. As ever, Tolkien places the worth of each character in an interior mystery, while those who live under the shadow of the Eye usually seek and prize that which fascinates that same eye.

"The Lord of the Rings" never mentions the Gospel or the Reign of God. It is a work deliberately imagined in a human mythic context prior to the full revelation of grace. But this does not mean that grace does not insinuate itself in the persons and deeds of Middle Earth. On the contrary, the grace present in the tale anticipates and prefigures the Kingdom. To see this grace one must discern between broken lights and heavy shadows.

By telling us that gold does not always glitter, Tolkien reminds us that the path marked out by grace always invites us to seek the extraordinarily noble precisely as it appears in common forms. Just as, with discernment, the saying "All that glitters is not gold" is distinguished from the saying "All that is gold does not glitter", so also eyes that look for nobility in glittery forms can be distinguished from eyes seeking nobility in common appearances.

The prophet Isaiah had pointed toward the Messiah with attention to his lack of majestic appearance: "He had no majestic bearing to catch our eye, no beauty to draw us to him (Is 53, 2)." Tolkien was not speaking of the Messiah, but he was speaking of the discernment needed by those blessed one day to encounter him. And today, those who seek the Reign of grace will find it in common forms and in persons of humble estate, and in the God-Word present in the little ones of the earth.

Quite a paradox. It is common to look for what is great in what is uncommon. But grace urges us to seek what is great within the ordinarily common. And that attitude is not so very common.

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Tolkien y el oro que no reluce

Comentando sobre Trancos, el futuro Rey Aragorn, (La Comunidad del anillo, Libro 1, cap. 10), el mago Gandalf dice esto:

"All that is gold does not glitter".

La edición Minotauro, obra de traducción de alta calidad y obra que he saboreado por muchos años, propone el texto de esta manera en Español:

"No es oro todo que reluce."

Hace tiempo que la traducción al Español de esta línea me queda como espina en la mente.
No me parece una feliz traducción. La traducción inexacta de la frase tolkiena realmente  traduce exactamente otro dicho, muy común en Inglés, que dice:

"All that glitters is not gold."

No quiero notar esto para criticar la traducción. Al contrario, me parece probable que muchos leyendo "El Señor de los anillos" en Inglés, piensan que el dicho que escribió Tolkien y el dicho común quieren decir la misma cosa. Y de esa confusión sobre lo que quería decir Tolkien en Inglés surge mi pequeña inquietud. La traducción al Español ayuda para aclarar un punto de no poca importancia sobre la perspectiva profundamente cristiana del gran contador de cuentos.

Expresada de esta manera, (No es oro todo que reluce) el sentido del texto cae como plomo al lado "de lo que reluce". Siempre existe la posibilidad de encontrar un oro falso que engaña por tanto relucir.

Pero claro es que Tolkien era un gran maestro de idiomas y lenguajes, y que al cambiar la posición de las palabras claves, (oro y reluce) del dicho común, Tolkien quiso cambiar el sentido del dicho. La frase común es precisamente lo que Tolkien no quería decir; quiso decir algo totalmente diferente. Traducida así como se presenta en Inglés, (All that is gold does not glitter), la traducción literal dice esto:

"Todo que es oro no siempre reluce".

Fíjense bien, porque el cambio señala algo fuerte. El texto de Tolkien pone el enfoque sobre un ser que no reluce,-- o sea que no cautiva el ojo. Tal hombre también puede ser oro. De ese tipo fue Trancos, un rey que se miraba como hombre común, pero uno realmente noble. El dicho de Tolkien cae como rayo del sol (ligeramente) al lado de lo que realmente es de oro.

El dicho común ("No es oro todo que reluce") se coloca en un ambiente del deseo. El hombre buscando oro, con frecuencia queda cautivado por lo que ve relucir, engañado por su falta de discernimiento. El dicho común nos invita a discernir entre piedras que relucen; el dicho de Tolkien nos invita a discernir cada piedra.

Tolkien está consciente de la capacidad enorme del hombre fijarse solo en lo que reluce, perdiendo así capacidad de apreciar lo que realmente vale. Sin embargo, Tolkien en voz de Gandalf, enseña que en este mundo lo mejor suele llegar en forma sencilla y común. Los habituados a buscar nobleza en las señas obvias de majestad y poder arriesgan ignorar la presencia de lo realmente noble. Como siempre, Tolkien busca el valor de cada uno en un misterio interior, mientras que los que viven bajo la sombra del Ojo suelen buscar y valorizar lo que fascina el mismo ojo.

"El Señor de los Anillos" jamás menciona al Evangelio o el Reino de Dios. Es una obra deliberadamente imaginada en un contexto humano, mitológico, antes de la revelación plena de la gracia. Pero eso no quiere decir que la gracia no se insinúa en las personas y hechos de Middle Earth. Al contrario, la gracia presente en el cuento anticipa y prefigura el Reino. Para verla, tiene uno que discernir entre luces quebradas y sombras pesadas.

Al decirnos que el oro no siempre reluce, Tolkien nos recuerda que el camino señalada por la gracia siempre nos invita a buscar lo noble que queda fuera de lo común, precisamente por aparecer en forma tan común. Tal como, con discernimiento, el dicho "No es oro todo que reluce"  se distingue del dicho, "Todo que es oro no siempre reluce", así los ojos que buscan nobleza en formas relucientes se distinguen de los ojos buscando nobleza en forma común.

El profeta Isaías había señalado el Mesías con atención a su falta de majestad: "No tiene aspecto hermoso, ni majestad para que le miremos, ni apariencia para que le deseemos (Is 53,2)". Tolkien no habla del Mesías, pero sí habla de un discernimiento que necesitarán los que tuvieran la bendición de encontrarlo. Y hoy en día los que buscan el Reino lo encontrarán en formas comunes y en personas humildes, en el Dios-Verbo presente en los pequeños del mundo.

¿Paradójico, no? Es común buscar lo bueno en lo fuera del común. La gracia nos impulsa a  buscar lo bueno dentro de lo común. Y esa actitud no es ni tan común.


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A Lamentation/ Una lamentación

How can a political system so blithely approve the sale and dismemberment of its own children? 

A prophet would say: 

First the conscience suffocates itself, and then the political class slips down into the abyss, making easy and fatal decisions designed, desperately, to preserve personal power. Denethor lives, blinded by his own will.

Lord, reason, that kindly light that greets what is good, has fled our land. Save us from ourselves.

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¿Cómo puede un sistema político aprobar la venta y el desmembramiento de sus propios hijos? 

Un profeta diría: 

Primero la conciencia se sofoca, luego la clase política se resbala en el declive del abismo, tomando decisiones fáciles y fatales ordenadas desesperadamente a conservar el poder personal. Denethor vive, cegado por su propia voluntad. 

Señor, la razón, luz amable que saluda lo bueno, ha huido de nuestra tierra. ¡Sálvanos de nosotros mismos!

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On Twitter and the Perilous Realm

I recently have taken small steps into the world of Twitter. Hobbit steps you might call them, tenuous and clothed in a vague awareness that there is no real turning back from it. Odd how the fast-changing world of finger-prompted media-forms pulls people into its orbit. Fascinating, Spock might say. And like Sam upon seeing Rivendell, one is struck by the beauty and strangeness of this place.

I have taken the name-tag of Amigo de Frodo, because names are like sacraments and parables, they reveal and conceal at the same time. They help you know and not know at the same time. The not knowing might make you want to know more. Maybe not.

Instant communication that shares a thought or a joy or a concern or a sadness is amazingly strange, and strangely beautiful, and for that reason is like the perilous realm Tolkien wrote about when he wrote about the land of Faery. There are great and strange and powerful beings in this realm. Even their goodness can frighten you. And there are fierce beasts that dwell there.

Still, in a few short weeks, I have heard from people I might never in my life have communicated with. Surely this is a blessing. But it is a blessing that leaves a strange sadness, because I know most of them I shall never meet face to face, this side of eternity.

That is probably a good thing, the strange sadness, I mean. For the good things of this life are at their best when they remind us of what they cannot provide. In this case, a connection is not quite enough. It is a knowing that knows what it lacks. On the other hand, the good things of this life are at their worst when they make us forget about what they cannot provide. I am quite sure the inscape of new media could propel a person into this kind of forgetfulness. It is very powerful; the communicating can become an end and joy unto itself. Strange, beautiful, perilous.

Communion is the deepest longing of the human heart, and it is not fulfilled in connections; connections only can point to the possibility of communion. Even communion is not full in this life, and rightly leaves us wanting and willing something more (as Augustine says somewhere about the Eucharist).

I like the fact that to send a Tweet requires that you be brief. I have always thought I take too long and too many words to say something simple. The approach to simplicity is a move that mirrors the call of grace, and in the best scenarios, is actually informed by it. Somebody asked me recently what prayer is. I have often gotten that question. Only this time I answered it differently than I have in the past. In a simpler way: Prayer is reading the Gospel and letting Jesus say something to you, then responding to Him. This is not different than what I have said before, just simpler. Not simple enough yet, but it is something.

Most of my recent Tweeting has been just that. After reading the Scriptures of the Liturgical Day, I let the Lord say something to me, so that I can say something to those who are perhaps seeking a word from Him. Seems to me this is a bishop’s principal job. So, after listening to the Word a bit, I write something. Then I shorten it. Then I shorten it some more. Then I can send it out. This is wonderful. A boon to my spiritual life!

But the strangeness continues along the same path. It is a strange responsibility to Tweet. To send out a message is to ask someone to take the time to read, think, see, to enjoy something beautiful, or to remember something forgotten. I think I should never do this lightly, in the sense that I should never forget that what I ask is never given without a sacrifice of time. Time should not be lightly requested. But at the same time, to step into the world of the instant message that hurls itself into inner-space should only be done lightly, that is to say, without taking ourselves too seriously. Keep to yourself, I tell myself, when you Tweet. Not in the sense of staying apart and separate, but in the sense of being yourself as you do it. You cannot be another. It is in that spirit that I offer of few samples of recent messages sent out on the wings of a little blue bird.

 

	Amigo de Frodo (@DFlores74319386)
8/2/15, 10:09 PM LA Times story on Sacred Heart Respite Center: Texas church, volunteers offer more than sanctuary for new immigrants fw.to/IKXEbAY

	Amigo de Frodo (@DFlores74319386)
8/3/15, 7:48 AM Mt14,13-22: El Señor les da, multiplicando los panes. Los discípulos dan, distribuyendo. El Señor nos da para que tengamos algo que dar.

	Amigo de Frodo (@DFlores74319386)
8/3/15, 8:28 AM God raises up saints, for sure. I think He raises up great writers as well. A fine article on Flannery O'Connor: twitter.com/antoniospadaro…

 

	Amigo de Frodo (@DFlores74319386)
8/2/15, 8:33 PM "Al atardecer de la vida me examinarán del amor". No se olviden de los ancianos, los inmigrantes, los no-nacidos. m.youtube.com/watch?v=IuysY2…

	Amigo de Frodo (@DFlores74319386)
8/2/15, 8:51 AM Jn6: En el Señor Jesús, la entrega es la verdad, y la verdad la entrega. Señor, ¡aliméntanos, necesitamos la verdad, nos queremos entregar!

	Amigo de Frodo (@DFlores74319386)
8/1/15, 10:40 PM Juan Manuel de Prada, gran admirador de Chesterton, escribe sobre una novela profética del Argentino Castellani. osservatoreromano.va/es/news/un-arg…

	Amigo de Frodo (@DFlores74319386)
8/1/15, 1:43 PM A poem from Joseph O'Brien. A friend I do not often see but do esteem with high regard: americamagazine.org/issue/ballade-…

	Amigo de Frodo (@DFlores74319386)
7/30/15, 9:55 PM A very thoughtful article: Outraged over Cecil the lion? It may help you understand the rage over Planned Parenthood fw.to/kAjjBtj

	Amigo de Frodo (@DFlores74319386)
7/28/15, 8:54 AM Mt13, 36-43:The Lord teaches final judgment.The one who knew to seek and give pardon will receive, on that day, what he had sought and given
	Amigo de Frodo (@DFlores74319386)
7/25/15, 7:42 AM Mt20,20-28:"Can you drink of my chalice?" He offers them a share in what is his own.He thus shows the only ambition allowed in the Kingdom.

	Amigo de Frodo (@DFlores74319386)
8/1/15, 8:32 AM Ah, my friends, to add a little joy to a Saturday morning. Artie Shaw, recorded ages ago. Cool is cool in any age:) m.youtube.com/watch?v=pCXVxE…

Well, you get the idea.

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Hope opens the heart to receive what it yearns for; faith accepts Jesus with eyes open

I offer you the following summary of the homily I shared at St. Thomas Church, in the City of Brownsville, on the occasion of celebrating the seventy years of its existence as a mission church and community of faith. 

Mark 6,1-6: People didn’t expect anything great from Jesus. They had already heard of him. They had already seen him in the company of his family members and followers. They ignored him even as they ignored the possibility of a manifestation of the God that worried about them. 

The Lord did not perform many miracles in that village. Not because he lacked power, but because the people did not open their hearts to his visit. Hope opens the heart to receive what it yearns for. If one doesn’t expect great things from Jesus, the heart remains shuttered to the touch of his grace. 

The people in that village didn’t take time to contemplate Jesus. “What for?”, they said, “If we already know him.” But they didn’t know him. On the contrary, their assumptions prevented them from knowing him.

The village lacked faith. Faith sees Jesus, the Son of Mary, and understands that he has an identity beyond his mere flesh and bones.  Thomas the Apostle saw Jesus in a different way: He saw Jesus, and he confessed that he was his Lord and God. He had his eyes open, and understood “more” about Jesus. 

The world of today is under similar conditions. Many believe they know Jesus, and that’s the reason they don’t get to know him. Just as they said in the past: “Isn’t that the son of the carpenter?”, people of today say: “Isn’t he the one followed by Catholics? I’ve already heard of him, and don’t expect anything great.” 

People in our time believe they know Jesus and that’s the reason they disregard him. The lack of a careful look at Jesus impedes the perception of faith, and closes the heart to hope. This is so because it closes the eyes to the invitation to see something more, and to know him better. 

Those who reach faith know Jesus as Lord and God precisely because they keep their eyes open in his presence. 

What follies the world tells us. It tells us that faith is to believe something without reason and to accept a truth with blind eyes. It is actually the opposite. Faith knows and follows Jesus with open eyes. It doesn’t allow poor hope and false knowledge to get in the way of seeing and knowing more profoundly. 

The Catholic of today has to go out and tell their neighbor: “the Jesus that you thought you knew,… That same one, is the Lord and God who leads and walks with his people. Don’t let your distant knowledge deceive you: come with me, with open eyes, to find him again.”

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La Esperanza abre el corazón para recibir lo que anhela; la Fe conoce a Jesús con ojos abiertos

Micaela Nuñez recibió un reconocimiento durante la Santa Misa
por sus años de entrega a la capilla de Santo Tomás. Fue un honor
para mí presentarlo en nombre de la comunidad.

Les ofrezco el siguiente resumen del sermón pronunciado en la capilla de Santo Tomás, en la cuidad de Brownsville, en la ocasión de festejar los setenta años de su existencia como capilla y comunidad de fe. 

Mc 6,1-6: La gente no esperaba gran cosa de Jesús. Ya habían oído de él. Y antes lo habían visto en compañía de sus familiares y compañeros. Despreciaban a él tanto como despreciaban la posibilidad de alguna manifestación de un Dios que se preocupaba sobre ellos. 

No hizo muchos milagros el Señor en esa aldea. No porque le faltaba el poder, sino porque la gente no abrió su corazón a su visita. La esperanza abre el corazón a recibir lo que anhela. Si uno no espera gran cosa de Jesús, el corazón queda cerrado al toque de su gracia. 

Los de ese pueblo no tomaron el momento para contemplar a Jesús. "¿Para qué?", decían, "Si al cabo ya lo conocemos". Pero no lo habían conocido. Al contrario, sus presunciones les impedían el conocer. 

Faltó fe en ese pueblo. La fe ve a Jesús, hijo de Maria, y capta que él tiene una identidad más allá de su carné y hueso. Así como Tomás el apóstol: Vio a Jesús, y confesó que era su Señor y su Dios. El si tenía sus ojos abiertos, y captó el "algo más" de Jesús. 

El mundo de hoy está en las mismas condiciones. Muchos creen que conocen a Jesus, y por eso no alcanzan conocerlo. Así como decían antes: "¿no es él el hijo del carpintero?", dice el hombre de hoy: "¿No es él el que siguen los Católicos? Ya he oído de él, y yo no espero gran cosa".

Nuestra época es la que se cree tener conocimiento de Jesús y por eso lo desprecian. El poco conocer impide el conocimiento de la fe, y cierra el corazón a la esperanza, porque cierra los ojos a la invitación de ver algo más, y conocerlo mejor. 

Los que alcanzan la fe reconocen a Jesus como Señor y Dios precisamente porque mantienen abiertos los ojos en su presencia. 

Qué locuras nos dice el mundo. Nos dice que la fe es creer algo sin razón y aceptar una verdad con ojos cerrados. La verdad es lo contrario. La fe conoce y sigue a Jesús con ojos abiertos. No permite las pobres esperanzas y el falso conocimiento impedir el ver y conocer más profundo. 

El Católico de hoy tiene que salir y decirle al vecino: "ese Jesús que piensas haber conocido,... Pues ese mismo, es el Señor, el Dios que acompaña a su pueblo. No dejes que tu conocimiento de lejos te engañe: vente conmigo, con ojos abiertos, a encontrarlo de nuevo."

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