Bill McGarvey

One of my new favorite paintings is a scene painted by Filippo Lippi called, “The Confirmation of the Carmelite Rule.” Filippo Lippi was a Carmelite painter from the early renaissance period whose works hang in many of the major art museums today. The painting itself isn’t particularly beautiful to be honest, but there is something in it that draws me to it. The scene involves a young brother who is apparently professing his vows to his superior. The superior happens to have a very distinct smile on his face. It is this smile that is so interesting to me. According to some writers, this might in fact be one of the first instances of a smile being depicted in renaissance art.

If you look up Filippo Lippi in the art history books, you would soon discover that he was not the holiest Carmelite that ever lived, in fact some might even be scandalized by certain aspects of his life. However, I believe that Lippi was on to an extremely important point concerning the spiritual life – in fact life itself. It is the fact that our internal desire for happiness must be taken seriously. Many of the ancient philosophers spoke about our need for happiness. Also, central to the Christian faith is the belief that the very reason for our existence is to be happy with God. Nevertheless, I think that in our daily lives we can lose sight of what really makes us happy. True happiness I do not think is getting the latest iPhone – although that joy is truly awesome! – or other passing satisfactions. But there is a happiness that lasts – a happiness that comes when you know that you are doing something you were meant to do.

I taught high school for four years in an all-girls inner city school. Although I enjoyed teaching, I soon came to realize that teaching teenagers was not my vocation in life. I did not have the patience to deal with the numerous disciplinary problems that came up every day. What was even more frustrating was that the parents simply didn’t seem to care about their daughters. A few of my students ended up in extremely unfortunate circumstances that could have possibly been avoided if their parents had actually shown interest in them. In my frustration, I realized that if I wanted to make a real difference in the lives of those girls, and other persons like them, I probably would be better able to do it as a religious. As a religious I believe that I would be able to dedicate myself fulltime to helping those in need. Additionally, it would most likely even enable me to work directly with troubled families, where the root of many of the problems I encountered while teaching seemed to arise.

About a year after I stopped teaching I went back to visit some of my old colleagues and to follow up on the progress of some of my past students. As soon as I entered the staffroom one of my friends, who hadn’t seen me since I left, said quite bluntly, “Brent you look different. You look happy!” What my friend said was very true, I was in fact happy. However, what was interesting to me was that I didn’t realize that my unhappiness while working there was so evident. I thought I did a good job plastering on my fake smile, but I guess that those who knew me well could recognize a real change.

I do not think that doing what one is meant to do will mean that you will always be in a state of ecstatic joy. However, being true to what is deep within one’s heart brings a happiness that you really can’t explain –you simply know it when you experience it. I do not have many religious pictures in my room but I do have two. The first is a picture of the painting by Filippo Lippi that I mentioned, and the second is a picture of Thomas Merton with a distinctly serene smile while standing in the midst of an open field. I placed those two pictures where I could see them every day because I wanted to be able to remember to daily ask myself the question, “Am I truly happy?” Thankfully, at the moment there is a smile on my face as I answer, “Yes!”

from http://www.carmelites.net/blog/

Brent Alexis, O.Carm.

Over this past Christmas season there was an interesting series of reflections and other activities that focused on St. Thérèse’s “Christmas conversion” on this website. This concerned the moment in St. Thérèse’s life when she made the decision not to react in an immature manner when her family stopped placing Christmas presents for her in her Christmas stocking – a practice which was common in France at that time with children. I believe that St. Thérèse’s actions that Christmas reflects a spiritual practice that I have come to discover is essential to the Carmelite way of life – and in fact a key element to anyone wanting to live a spiritually mature life – the practice of detachment.

One of the most famous Carmelite Saints that even predates St. Thérèse is St. John of the Cross. A key spiritual teaching for which he is known is his emphasis on “nada” – which means ‘nothing.’ For St. John, he believed that attachment to created things is what prevents us from truly encountering God – we need to have nothing between us and God. This is a spiritual truth that I have come to discover transcends religious boundaries. I remember a few years ago while chatting with a very old Muslim Imam at a function I mentioned to him that I was a Carmelite. The Imam immediately exclaimed, “Ah yes, St. John of the Cross! I love his writings. Nada, nada, nada.”

In my own life detachment is something with which I continuously struggle. I think some of the biggest things that I have struggled to give up are the various images of what “my happy self” ought to look like. Before I entered the Carmelites, to be happy involved the image of me driving a new RX8 sports car, working for a dynamic company and dating a beautiful and intelligent woman, among other things. While I was in the process of making some of those goals a reality, I eventually realized that my true happiness did not reside in those accomplishments. In spite of this realization, it was still extremely difficult giving up this image of myself. While in religious life I still every so often start developing new images of what “my happy self” should look like. Now, however, it involves images such as working for a church based non-profit or attaining particular qualifications which I believe would be necessary for effective ministry. In spite of these things being very noble, I know that I can also become too attached to them as well.

But why detach in the first place? I believe that it is only by freeing ourselves of attachments that God’s grace can enter our lives in a dynamic way. One summer ago I had a very concrete experience of this. A few months before that summer period I was heavily involved in planning a conference in Trinidad for the Carmelite family there. I spent several hours developing schedules and communicating with the facilitator and other planners of the event – all including the fact that I would be there in a few months to help execute some of my plans.

A few weeks before the conference I was told that my superior wanted me to work in a hospital that summer! Naturally I was frustrated since it meant that I was not able to follow all of the plans which I had been working on for the previous months. In spite of my disappointment, I felt that God was calling me to practice detachment – but of course I was sure that it meant I would have had an absolutely miserable summer. To my amazement it was quite the opposite! That summer was a period of great growth for me as a future religious minister and as an individual as well. During my time there I also developed friendships with colleagues which have also proven to be invaluable. And, to top it all off, in spite of my absence, the conference was a great success. I guess St. Thérèse and St. John of the Cross were on to something after all.

* from http://www.carmelites.net/blog/

During the Provincial Chapter of the Province of India held on 13-15 February 2014 were elected:

• Prior Provincial:  Fr. Robert Thomas Puthussery, O.Carm.
• First Councilor:   Fr. Jose Alex Valavanattu, O.Carm.
• Second Councilor: Fr. Thankachan Njaliath, O.Carm.
• Third Councilor:  Fr. Boby Sebastian Tharakunnel, O.Carm.
• Fourth Councilor:  Fr. Regi Jacob Pullan, O.Carm.

As publicised at the General Chapter 2013, there will be a basic course in English language at Aylesford, England. At the end of the experience, participants will have the fundamental tools and confidence to begin developing communication skills in English.

This opportunity is open to all friars of the Order who will live and pray with the Carmelite Community at the Order’s iconic priory, which is intimately linked with the Brown Scapular of Our Lady of Mount Carmel and the Order’s first General Chapter.

The cost of the course and accommodation will be covered by the British Province on a donation only basis.  To be successful the programme requires 5-8 participants. Participants will be expected to have some knowledge of English already and will be responsible for the cost of their travel to and personal expenses during the programme.

To register your interest, please contact

Brendan Grady, O.Carm. Esta dirección de correo electrónico está siendo protegida contra los robots de spam. Necesita tener JavaScript habilitado para poder verlo.

by 31st March 2014

A direct and intimate experience with God is the basis of Carmel spirituality. Therefore, before any Rule, and in order that the Rule may be lived when it is formulated, a contemplative spirit and a deep sense of God are required of those who wish to lead the life of Carmel.

Of one who understands how to stay before God, no special activity, no special practical disposition is required. While, on the contrary, this sense of God, this thirst to remain in His presence does not belong to that category of realities that a Rule or a technique can call into being. Nor can they be developed in any way ascertainable by the sense. They must exist prior to the realization of a contemplative religious life. God Himself has placed them in the soul's very center and ceaselessly maintains them by means of His grace and His Holy Spirit.

This enables us to understand how, although it is not an institution in the western meaning of the term but only a place for the election of a spiritual reality, Carmel has long been able to exist in a free, spontaneous, elementary way and to subsist through the sheer power of its "spirit".

This primacy of "spirit", necessary in every religious institute seems even more necessary in Carmel.

No exterior activity, whatever be its form, not even fidelity to the Rule, jealously guarded though this must be, can ever take the place of what ought to be the soul of Carmel, we mean the divine current that reaches the depths of man's being and impels the Carmelite to return constantly to his center.

This search for God, so essential and so secret, leads of itself to simplicity and spiritual poverty. Instinctively the soul seeking God longs to be disencumbered, to be delivered from all things spiritual and material, in order to think of God alone, to be freed from things of the flesh in order to attain to life in the spirit, and to become altogether spiritual.

An idea like this necessarily leads to a spiritual conception of religious life. In fact, nowhere as much as in Carmel must life and observances be vivified by the spirit.

That is why a religious as familiar with the origins of Carmel as John of Saint-Samson could write in "De la perfection et decadence de la vie religieuse":

"I say that in the days of these first patriarchs and founders, religious life (at Carmel) was a body strongly and excellently animated by spirit, or rather it was all spirit, and all fervent spirit."

In fact the ideal of Carmel was always, according to the expression of this same author in "Le vrai esprit du Carmel," "to live in a state of great purity... and to enter into God with all one's strength".

It is obvious that John of Saint-Samson here refers to the "Institution des premiers moines," a text highly representative of the spirit of Carmel and of its oldest and purest mystical traditions. In it we read these lines in which the author seeks to describe the life of the first hermits of Carmel.

"This life has a double end. The first is ours as the result of our virtuous work and effort, divine grace aiding us. It consists in offering God a holy heart, freed from all stain of actual sin. We attain this end when we are perfect and in Carith (which means ' hidden in charity ')... The second end of this life is communicated to us as God's pure gift. I mean that not only after death but here in this mortal life we can in some way in our hearts taste and experience in spirit the power of the divine presence and the sweetness of heavenly glory. This is called drinking from the torrent of divine pleasure."

 At Carmel, purity of heart is never disassociated from delight in things divine. The illusion most to be dreaded has always been to aspire to the highest gifts while disdaining or underestimating the necessary publications. There is another and equally dangerous snare: to try to live a life of high perfection for its own sake and not to aspire to receive the communication of divine life. Carmelite spirituality consists of a supernatural balance which is only possible where there is habitual recourse to the spirit with humility of heart. Although Carmel can see the weakness of its children without astonishment or pessimism, and because it counts on the abundance of divine mercy to remain undisturbed, it has no pity for the slightest shadow that soils the soul. A man who voluntarily harbors some vain attachment in his heart is not a spiritual man. But of what price is purity without spiritual fruitfulness? A detachment in which there is no love?

In fact theological primacy makes it impossible for the Carmelite soul to deviate in his pursuit of his double goal. If he aspires to love with the love of God Himself, it is because he is strong in his hope, resolute in his faith, docile in all things to the invitations of the Spirit; it is because he depends on God alone.  

by PAUL MARIE DE LA CROIX

No one will be surprised that in such a climate a connatural form of activity will spontaneously come into being, we mean prayer understood not so much as an exercise but as being present to God. This is altogether objective and interior, silent and sustained, detached and spiritual.

To prayer, as it is understood at Carmel, there are no limits; just as there are no limits to the quality of interior silence that it realizes and the links it fashions between man and his God. According to the measure of the soul's generosity and divine grace, the living God possesses and vivifies this solitude.

The exercise of prayer at Carmel is accompanied by a minimum of material conditions. Prayer involves no rigorously prescribed methods. For its development it requires the liberty and fidelity of a soul constantly visited and vivified by the spirit.

The Rule faithfully preserves this conception of life with God. The central obligation there laid down is "to meditate night and day on the

Law of the Lord".

But the example of Elias, as well as an inner exigency, urges the hermits to realize within themselves and without, a spirit of silence and solitude eminently favorable to prayer and of which the desert is the most perfect expression.

The desert calls out to the spirit and the spirit calls out to the desert. Between the spirit of Carmel and the desert there is a living relation. Carmel's prayer is the desert in which the spirit dwells.

But the desert also induces thirst, and prayer slakes the soul's thirst only to create new capacities for the infinite. "They that drink me shall yet thirst" (Eccl. 24: 29).

If it is not without meaning that the word of God was heard in a desert, it is equally significant that the possession of the Promised Land was conditioned by an exodus through that same desert. The soul, too, arrives at a meeting with God, in prayer, only at the price of an exodus painful to sense and spirit. But the soul then knows the infinite value of things divine and enjoys that liberty of the children of God which is characteristic of Carmelite spirituality.

This search for God in silence and solitude, this absence of imposed forms of prayer, a colloquy that is free and truly heart-to-heart in "the place of the espousals"--this is what the desert means, this is what has characterized Carmel from the beginning.

Life of God and desert: these timeless realities are never separated in the Old Testament or in the New. The desert of the soul is the very place of God's communication.

"The land that was desolate and impassable shall be glad, and the wilderness shall rejoice, and shall flourish like the lily" (Is. 35: 1).

The depth in which the intuitions of the Carmelite soul are rooted may make them seem obscure. They are, nevertheless, astonishingly living and active. Consciously or not, the soul unceasingly returns there, to strive to live them fully and directly.

If no one is more convinced than the Carmelite of the riches and benefits of tradition, it is also true that no one is more faithfully and lovingly attached to it, yet no one else is more fully persuaded that it is necessary to live personally and to experience in direct contact the mystery of God. Tradition may indeed explain and give a love for the divine realities tasted in prayer: it cannot confer that supreme and incommunicable knowledge which is a fruit of divine wisdom. This comes only to him who suffers God in his soul and in his life.

To remain living and active, the revelation of the divine transcendence and mercy ought to be renewed in each one of us.

But as soon as the divine revelation crosses the threshold of our inner dwelling, there is a dawn and centuries vanish. The soul brought back to an absolute beginning watches the flowering of an eternal spring in his own soul. Is not "the verdant one" the meaning of Elias' name?

God Himself is there and speaks to the soul. And the soul making her own the words of the prophet, murmurs: "He liveth. He before whom I am".--"As the Lord liveth, and as thy soul liveth. . . " (Cf. 3 Kgs. 1 7: 1, 4 Kgs. 2: 6).

The spirit of Carmel is none other than this power and life which spring from the divine word and seek to enter the soul; none other than this divine presence which is waiting to be received and communicated in a reciprocal gift. Today, no more than in the first days, can this word wait for tomorrows in which it will be accomplished.

If the impossible were to take place and the past were suddenly obliterated and tradition no longer existed, and the call of the living God were to sound for the first time in a soul, this call would carry with it the spirit of Carmel in all its freshness, its newness, its eternal richness.

Because it is of God and is pure reference to God, this spirit is distinguished by a clarity, a simplicity and a limpidity that are absolute. It has nothing to do with techniques. It fears more than all else material and spiritual encumbrances, multiplicity of means, devotions and spiritual exercises. It is God just as He is that it seeks and desires: God, for the mind all mystery, but for the soul light and delicious knowledge.

The spirit of Carmel is a spirit of childhood, of original life, of newness, of immediate proximity to the divine outpouring. It drinks "of the torrent" without a shell; it does not kneel down but stands erect. It is born of God in all its profundity and passes into man renewing and in truth creating him. That is why this spirit is so immediate, so lacking any kind of transition, so without compromise; so bare, with the bare life of the Old Testament; that is why it is so essential. Strengthened by a power that transcends human means and traverses, without ignoring, what is relative, it discovers its goal and goes straight towards it with a totalitarian exigency of unitive transformation. In short, it advances with a thirst for the absolute, which, once having been felt, can never more be slaked.

Without the least shadow of pessimism, the least disdain for the world, the Carmelite is deeply conscious of the infinite distance separating the created from the uncreated, God from His creature. Prayer gives him an understanding, better still, permits him to acquire a kind of experience of the absolute. It is also through prayer that the Carmelite, we read in the second chapter of the "Institution des premiers moines," "tastes in his heart and experiences in his soul the strength of the divine Presence and the sweetness of the glory from above".

This does not make the spirit of Carmel aloof toward what is created and toward those who live and grow in the earthy and the relative; this experience of God, on the contrary, is the origin of the most active zeal for souls which is characteristic of the action and person of the prophet Elias.

Carmel has never, in fact, separated the apostolic from the contemplative life in its father Elias "who was afire with zeal for the Yahweh of armies" (3 Kgs. 19: 10; 18) with fierce energy preserved in the people of Israel belief in the true God, and who has never ceased to serve as a model to the Order that claims him as founder. In 1275 Nicholas the Frenchman, the seventh prior general, recalled this in these words in his "Ignea Sagitta":

"Conscious of their own imperfection, the hermits of Mount Carmel remained long in solitude. But because they desired to be in some way useful to their neighbor, and lest on this point they incur guilt, at times, yet very rarely, they left their hermitage. And as it was with the scythe of contemplation that they harvested in the desert so now in preaching they will scatter the grain on the threshing floor and with open hands they will sow the seed."

So it came about that from the beginning Carmelite prayer has had an apostolic side and overflows with missionary fervor.  Although these spiritual realities are part of the distant epochs of its pre-history, they have come down through the ages and will always be characteristic of Carmel. This inalienable treasure transmitted to us from century to century by the hermits seems to us in its brilliance and marvelous freshness like an ancient jewel discovered in all its beauty in the desert sands.

Prayer Intentions of the Holy Father for February 2014

Universal: That the Church and society may respect the wisdom and experience of older people.

For Evangelization: That priests, religious, and lay people may work together with generosity for evangelization.

Lectio Divina February-febrero-febbraio 2014

• Saturday, February 1, 2014  
  Lectio Divina: Mark 4,35-41
• Sunday, February 2, 2014  
  Lectio Divina: The Presentation of the Lord
• Monday, February 3, 2014  
  Lectio Divina: Mark 5,1-20
• Tuesday, February 4, 2014  
  Lectio Divina: Mark 5, 21-43
• Wednesday, February 5, 2014  
  Lectio Divina: Mark 6,1-6
• Thursday, February 6, 2014  
  Lectio Divina: Mark 6,7-13
• Friday, February 7, 2014  
  Lectio Divina: Mark 6,14-29
• Saturday, February 8, 2014  
  Lectio Divina: Mark 6,30-34
• Sunday, February 9, 2014  
  Lectio Divina: 5th Sunday of Ordinary Time (A)
• Monday, February 10, 2014  
  Lectio Divina: Mark 6,53-56
• Tuesday, February 11, 2014  
  Lectio Divina: Mark 7,1-13
• Wednesday, February 12, 2014  
  Lectio Divina: Mark 7,14-23
• Thursday, February 13, 2014  
  Lectio Divina: Mark 7,24-30
• Friday, February 14, 2014  
  Lectio Divina: Mark 7,31-37
• Saturday, February 15, 2014  
  Lectio Divina: Mark 8,1-10
• Sunday, February 16, 2014  
  Lectio Divina: 6th Sunday in Ordinary Time (A)
• Monday, February 17, 2014  
  Lectio Divina: Mark 8,11-13
• Tuesday, February 18, 2014  
  Lectio Divina: Mark 8,14-21
• Wednesday, February 19, 2014  
  Lectio Divina: Mark 8,22-26
• Thursday, February 20, 2014  
  Lectio Divina: Mark 8,27-33
• Friday, February 21, 2014  
  Lectio Divina: Mark 8,34-9,1
• Saturday, February 22, 2014  
  Lectio Divina: Chair of Saint Peter, apostle
• Sunday, February 23, 2014  
  Lectio Divina: 7th Sunday in Ordinary Time (A)
• Monday, February 24, 2014  
  Lectio Divina: Mark 9,14-29
• Tuesday, February 25, 2014  
  Lectio Divina: Mark 9,30-37
• Wednesday, February 26, 2014  
  Lectio Divina: Mark 9,38-40
• Thursday, February 27, 2014  
  Lectio Divina: Mark 9,41-50
• Friday, February 28, 2014  
  Lectio Divina: Mark 10,1-12

During the Provincial Chapter of the Province of Rio de Janeiro held on 20-24 January 2014 were elected:

• Prior Provincial:  Fr. Evaldo Xavier Gomes, O.Carm.
• First Councilor:  Fr. Alexandre Donizete Cortez, O.Carm.
• Second Councilor:  Fr. Adailson Quintino dos Santos, O.Carm.
• Third Councilor:  Fr. Paulo Gollarte, O.Carm.
• Fourth Councilor:  Fr. Eduardo Ferreira, O.Carm.

Christopher O’Donnell, O.Carm.

Shared with the Church

Finally, we come to that dimension of the Church which is outreach. The Church has a mission to all, so that as Pope Paul VI could state that evangelization belongs to the very nature of the Church. Indeed, as we have already seen, we are sent forth at each Mass in love, service and evangelization. Here too Mary is our icon. The story of the Visitation shows both dimensions (Luke 1:39-55). After the annunciation Mary sets out immediately, St Luke tells us “with haste” to visit her cousin, Elizabeth whom she has just learned is pregnant. Now just as there was a remarkable greeting from Gabriel to Mary, so Mary’s greeting to Elizabeth is even more extraordinary: as soon as she greets Elizabeth, the older woman feels the child leaping in her womb, and Elizabeth herself is filled with the Holy Spirit (Luke 1:40-41). Mary brings Jesus_; Mary’s greeting is grace filled and brings the Spirit. The task of the Church is continually to bring Jesus, and to bring the Spirit into people’s lives. Here in the visitation Mary is the supreme model for the apostolate and mission of the Church in each of its members. But Mary goes on to proclaim God’s plan and to extol God’s mighty works in the Magnificat (Luke 1:46-55). The text is so familiar to all that I would only wish to highlight a few themes.

My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour_;
Mary’s celebration looks firstly upon God_; her innermost being focuses on him as Lord
and as Saviour.
for he has looked with favour on the lowliness of his servant.
Surely from now on all generations will call me blessed_;
for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name.
As her eyes turn to herself, she celebrates his greatness in her weakness_; her situation is
lowliness, more accurately “humiliation” (tapein6sin); she repeats the self-description she
used at the Annunciation, she is a slave (doule).
His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with his arm_;
he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.
He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly_;
he has filled the hungry with good things, and has sent the rich away empty.

Here Mary takes up the reversal theme: what the world values is to be cast down_; what is weak will be exalted. This is a message not only to the proud of the secular society, but it is a warning to each member of the Church. Pope, bishops, clergy, laity, religious all need to hear that God’s way is not the way of power, dominance or manipulation. It is only if we accept our poverty before God that we will know his favour. The problem is that so often we embrace God’s way of humility and weakness only when we have tried and failed by our own efforts, by following the ways of the world. The Church is never free of this temptation.

He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, according to the promise he made to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his descendants forever.

Finally Mary celebrates God’s faithful love, his rocklike fidelity. God has made many promises to his Church, most memorably in the promises of the Holy Spirit at the Last Supper (John 14:16-17; 14:26 = 16:13-15; 15:26 = 16:7.11) and just before the Ascension (Luke 24:46_; Acts 1:6) and the promises to Peter as he constitutes him the foundation of his Church: “You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my Church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it” (Matt 16:18). Whenever we see darkness surrounding the Church, we need to celebrate with Mary God’s promises.

Conclusion

Vatican II in the Constitution on the Liturgy (SC 103) gave a succinct account of the role of Mary for the Church:

In celebrating this annual cycle of the mysteries of Christ, Holy Church honours the Blessed Mary, Mother of God, with a special love. She is inseparably linked with her Son’s saving work. In her the Church admires and exalts the most excellent fruit of redemption, and joyfully contemplates, as in a faultless image, that which she herself desires and hopes wholly to be.

It is as we celebrate the mysteries of Christ that Mary is properly honoured. This honour is described as “with special love.” The Council then notes that Mary is inseparably linked with her Son’s saving work, that she is truly redeemed, and that she is the flawless image of all that the Church desires and hopes wholly to be.

~~~

It is my contention that our vision of the Church has darkened in the past decade, and that we need to raise up our eyes. If we look to Mary we shall rediscover the true meaning of the Church, in which we can see her radiant beauty despite sin, failure and infidelity She is therefore an icon in which we see the Church, and are drawn to its full Trinitarian reality. The Church has been presented by Vatican II in three memorable images: it is People, Body and Temple. We need Mary to lead us into her experience of Trinitarian love that has been poured out on the world, and which is offered to the Church whose weakness is often too evident:

The Father chooses the People of God in which is resplendent the Daughter of Sion. The Son is united to his Body, whose Mother is Mary. The Spirit gives life to the Church, whose Temple Mary is. We are People, Body and Temp Je, illumined by Mary, Mother and Icon of the Church.

Christopher O’Donnell, O.Carm.

Celebrated in the Eucharist

Where is the heart of the Church? It is not in its institutions, however prestigious, even necessary. Vatican II teaches us that the “source and the summit” of the entire Christian life, and hence of the Church is the Eucharist (see Church 11). In the Eucharist we have all that is essential to the Church: we come to acknowledge that we are sinners_; we hear the Word of God and respond to it_; we make intercession_; we share in the Paschal Mystery of the Lord’s death and glorification_; we enter into intimate union with him_; we are sent out to proclaim the good news and to share the love we have received.

We look to Mary in the gathering of the Church that awaits the outpouring of the Holy Spirit (Acts 1:14). The community assembled after the ascension, and are waiting for the Lord’s promise of the Holy Spirit. They are in prayer_; they keep recalling the events of the death and glorification of the Lord. Once they have received the Spirit they preach, celebrate the Eucharist and gather others into the company of believers (Acts 2:42.47). Mary is present in their midst, just as she is present in every Eucharist and is named in its most sacred part, the Eucharist Prayer. She is the perfect worshipper of the Paschal Mystery (see Paul VI, Exhortation (1974) Marialis cultus – To Honour Mary, n. 20). Through the Eucharist she wishes to conform us to the image of her Son. In the Eucharist we will find her as Mother, Patroness, Sister and Companion.

There are any number of ways in which we can as it were get the Church wrong. The great Swiss theologian, Hans Urs von Balthasar who died a few years ago, and is the favourite theologian of the present Pope, speaks of four dimensions of the Church, each one associated with a key figure. There is the Pauline dimension of preaching, theologizing and evangelization_; there is the Petrine dimension of structures and authority_; there is the Johannine contemplative element. But undergirding all these is the Marian dimension. The Church is most authentic when it is patterned on her. One of the contemporary problems of the Church, one that in fact goes back several hundred years, is a tendency to give too much emphasis to the institutional or Petrine aspect, to the detriment of the receptive or Marian aspect. With this deformation all sorts of distortions follow. We look to what is effective and efficient rather than to what is beautiful and mysterious. When we think too much in terms of the Petrine dimension of the Church, rather than in a Marian key everything goes awry. I am not dismissing the Petrine or institution dimension of the Church or denying its importance_; but I am insisting that though the Petrine aspect of the Church is indeed essential, it is secondary to its Marian features. We could develop this important insight in a number of ways. Each one shows both the Eucharistic heart of the Church and the primacy of its Marian characteristics.

Firstly, grace is more important than structures. We have structures in order to provide and support the work of grace at every level. Thus the sacraments are to bring us to new life_; institutions such as the parish or diocese are to provide a zone in which people can come to healing and love. In the case of Mary, God chose her from all eternity, filled her with grace from the first moment of her being, and brought her into Trinitarian life. It was only then that she became the Mother of the Lord.

Secondly, faith is more important than teaching. The whole point of teaching is to engender the response of faith. And faith is more than belief, or the ability to make accurate statements about divine revelation_; it includes the whole response of the individual and the community. Teaching is only a service of the faith of the Church. Mary’s yes in faith is the pattern of the whole life of the Church.

Thirdly, receiving is more important than giving. The initiative in all things holy is not ours but God’s. His love touches us first before we can give. Mary is most blessed not so much by what she did, but by what she received: the great mysteries of her Immaculate Conception, Divine Motherhood, Perpetual Virginity and Assumption are all gifts that Mary received_; she is par excellence the receptive one. Too often we look to what the Church does, rather than to what the Church receives.

Fourthly, service is much more important than power. One of the hard lessons that Jesus had to teach his disciples was that greatness in his kingdom comes from being a servant, even a slave, rather than from power (Matt 20:25-28). Mary who proclaims herself servant I slave is the perfect model for the Church. There is indeed power in the Church, but it must always be employed as service to build up.

Fifthly, therefore love is more important than authority. The Church was, as we have seen, born out of love on Calvary. Love will always be its highest norm, the supreme law of the Church. We must, of course, be careful not to fall into the trap of pleasing rather than serving. The idea is in wide circulation that we must satisfy people, answer their felt needs, offer them what they regard as fulfilling. Love, however, is not always easy, and it may not be immediately satisfying. There is a role for authority, even for an authority that will teach hard truths. But authority still must serve love, though it may not answer popular demands or immediate gratification. Calvary is clearly proof that love at times can be most difficult and painful.

Sixthly, poverty is more important than sufficiency. The whole Paschal Mystery is a celebration of poverty: Christ though rich, became poor for our sakes that we might become rich (2Corinthians 8:9)_; he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave (Philippians 2:7). God’s plan in the weakness of the Cross is the highest wisdom, but a wisdom that could not be grasped by Jews or Greeks (1Corinthians 1:18-2:5). Luke presents Mary as one of the poor of Jahweh, the anawim. Whenever the Church is rich and self-sufficient, it is already interiorly decayed. The lesson of poverty is a hard one for the Church to learn at every level.

Seventhly, adoration is more important than intercession. Mary teaches us to celebrate the greatness of God. It is important that we pray for the needs of the Church and the world, and the Mass is a privileged place for such prayer. But we come into fullness of life as we enter into the mystery of the Trinity in adoration and surrender.

Eighthly, therefore contemplation is more important that action. There is a long tradition in the Church that takes seriously the saying of the Lord to Martha: “Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her” (Luke 10:42). Action is of course important, but to be fruitful, it needs some basis in contemplation. To serve my brothers or sisters generously and without selfishness, I need to contemplate them in the heart of Trinitarian love. If I do not see them with God’s eyes, I will inevitably fail in my love.

Ninthly, obedience is more important than commands. The Church has been infiltrated by many values of the world in our time. Obedience is quite out of favour in a society that values freedom and the worship of the self. Commands are resented. But we need obedience if we are be modelled on Christ, who passionately sought the will of his Father (John 4:31 – a major theme throughout John).

Finally, we can sum up what we have been saying about the Marian and the Petrine dimensions by indicating that in some profound sense the feminine is more important in the Church than the masculine. This is a difficult area to speak about: one runs the risk of being beaten down by both feminist and patriarchal wings in the Church and society. It is hard too to avoid stereotyping, but there is some value in the insight of the predominant importance of the feminine in the Church. Of course there is a complementarity of the sexes and the Church needs both. But at this present time it would seem clear that we need much more of what are often called feminine traits_; these are not exclusively feminine, but they are more feminine. In some modern psychologies we tend to associate more with the masculine what is aggressive, rational, dominant_; we associate more with the feminine traits like compassion, affectivity, receptivity. It would be my contention that the Church does not need more dominance and manipulation_; the Church would not be better if all its women strove to model themselves after Baroness Thatcher, the former English Prime Minister. The urgent task is that all, especially men, pattern themselves on Mary. I would very strongly resist a division in the Church or spirituality which would point men towards Christ and women towards Mary. Mary is the perfect model for both men and women in the discipleship of Christ by both men and women. It is my contention that what we find is a Church in which almost everything that is faulty and in need of renewal tends to be masculine rather than feminine. Men and women need to look much more carefully at the Marian paradigm of the Church.