Circles, prejudices and moggies, or the Light of ch'i

(Lk 8:16-18)

There is light and Light. There is pomp that shines artificially, and substantial sumptuousness of Life. 

One of the differences between sectarianism and the proposition of Faith is that the teaching of the Risen One is not a mystery accessible only to initiates, or mannerists and strongmen.

It has nothing to do with lengthy disciplines of the arcane, which normally direct thought and weigh the candidate's voluntarism.

In his commentary on the Tao Tê Ching (ii), Master Ho-shang Kung states that 'The original ch'i gives life to all creatures and does not take possession of them': it does not go backwards, it does not bestow the ancient, retrogressive and fixed order, it does not run for cover; rather, it gives a charge - not partial, but vital and enlightening.

Understanding and assimilating the Word of God that calls in the first person injects a fundamental, extreme and regenerating energy. Capable of creating new life and imparting a sense that is not bland and cowardly to our affairs.

In the Relationship of Faith, Listening and internalisation make an incessant, intimate appeal; in tune with our deep identity-essence and personal vocation.

Perception and following of the soul free us from the influence of short, external, conditioning thoughts.

They convey a kind of immediate and vital possession of things, an energetic cognition that leads to realisation; anticipating and attracting future.

When the gospel remains confined within circles, it does not make the whole community shine, it does not communicate with real life; whereas it would like to give it and gladden it, in the friendship with our character and eternal side it develops.

Ever since we were children, it seemed to us that Word and custom were one and the same: a kind of active Logos, fused with any manifestations of religiosity - especially in the West.

It seemed spontaneous, safe, unquestionable, growing up in an atmosphere of unity of thought... until we perhaps discovered that some customs and fashions fear the Light.

Today, in fact, we realise that even self-styled alternative thinking, if it is too grand, schematic and disembodied, avoids confronting the 'low'.

On the contrary, it willingly confines itself to elite clubs of its own; disconnected from the crude reality - considered vile, unrefined [unsophisticated]. Which is not worth sifting through in itself.

But the Gifts that God bestows do not bear being delimited by a "vase" (v.16), nor 'measured' by any "bushel" (Mt 5:15; Mk 4:21), or put in a hole, concealed: they serve only to edify and illuminate.

Heaven's treasures are to be bestowed, transmitted, communicated, not withheld; otherwise a swampy mediocrity [from "under a bed": v.16] is unleashed, which neither instructs nor enlightens.

So beware of prejudices (v.18): listening is not neutral action.

Popular expectations of the Messiah, victor, avenger, self-sufficient... prevented people from understanding the Announcement of the Kingdom and of the Father who loves luxuriant life.

The ancient idea of an established King has perhaps inclined us to consider the Face of the Eternal in the Crucified One as a parenthesis, soon to be overcome by the triumph and the settlement [of the Church, implanted and visible].

Conversely, the Son's wounds of love describe in fullness a different constant figure; outstretched - thus paradoxical - but profound.

In this way, everyone has their own affective aptitude and skills, all to be explored and put into play without limits... so that they may be shared, made sapiential and propulsive.

As Pope Francis declared:

"The inability of experts to see the signs of the times is due to the fact that they are closed in their system; they know what can and cannot be done, and they stay safe there. Let us ask ourselves: am I only open to my own things and my own ideas, or am I open to the God of surprises?"

A great Roman parish priest used to tell me that one of the things that had struck him in his travels in the US was seeing too many Catholic citadels on hilltops, clearly visible to the eye but just as obviously equipped with everything - therefore detached, able to fend for themselves, closed to the real urban life of today.

A diametrically opposed approach to that of evangelical community realities, less conspicuous [without the pretension of attracting by external beauty] inasmuch as they are blended into the fabric of the city; for this reason capable of shedding light on the implications of the daily life of people in search of a personal and real relationship with God the Father.

In short (v.18): anyone who updates, confronts, takes an interest and makes a contribution, sees his or her human and spiritual wealth grow and flourish.

This is - at best - by remaining true to oneself and avoiding being overwhelmed by the routine of fixed-homologised thinking and the travails of the counter-exodus.

No one will be surprised that the situations of cultural rearguard, or stagnant - drained, exhausted, grey and boring; or à la page and glitzy but confusing - suffer further downturns and finally perish without leaving regrets.

In spite of their artificial [useless] showiness, they will remain dependent on what is valued already. And they will increasingly seek external approval in vain.

Let us rather learn to observe ourselves, relationships, situations, without prejudice; leaving 'filters', 'measurements', in the background.

We will recognise in ourselves the most authentic resources, and the spontaneous echo of the divine Word.

We’ll turn on the unseen, the unique and immense, personal side; our singular and plural beauty.

To internalise and live the message:

How do you propose to ignite your eternal side, and your singular and plural beauty?

Lumen Fidei

1. The light of faith: with this expression, the tradition of the Church has indicated the great gift brought by Jesus, who, in the Gospel of John, presents himself as follows: "I have come into the world as light, so that whoever believes in me should not remain in darkness" (John 12:46). St Paul also expresses himself in these terms: "And God, who said, 'Let light shine out of darkness', shines in our hearts" (2 Cor 4:6). In the pagan world, hungry for light, the worship of the Sun god, Sol invictus, had developed. Although the sun was reborn every day, it was well understood that it was incapable of radiating its light over the whole of man's existence. For the sun does not illuminate all reality, its ray is incapable of reaching as far as the shadow of death, where the human eye closes to its light. 'Because of his faith in the sun,' says Saint Justin Martyr, 'no one has ever been ready to die. Aware of the great horizon that faith opened to them, Christians called Christ the true sun, "whose rays give life". To Martha, who weeps for the death of her brother Lazarus, Jesus says: "Did I not tell you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?" (Jn 11:40). Whoever believes, sees; sees with a light that illuminates the whole way, because it comes to us from the risen Christ, the morning star that does not set.

An illusory light?

2. Yet in speaking of this light of faith, we can hear the objection of so many of our contemporaries. In modern times, it was thought that such a light might suffice for ancient societies, but was of no use for the new times, for the man who had become an adult, proud of his reason, eager to explore the future in a new way. In this sense, faith appeared as an illusory light, preventing man from cultivating the audacity of knowledge. The young Nietzsche invited his sister Elisabeth to take risks, to tread "new paths..., in the uncertainty of autonomous progress". And he added: 'At this point the paths of humanity separate: if you want to achieve peace of soul and happiness, then have faith, but if you want to be a disciple of truth, then investigate'. Belief is opposed to seeking. From here, Nietzsche would develop his criticism of Christianity for diminishing the scope of human existence, taking novelty and adventure away from life. Faith would then be like an illusion of light that impedes our path as free men towards tomorrow.

3. In this process, faith ended up being associated with darkness. It was thought that it could be preserved, that a space could be found for it to coexist with the light of reason. The space for faith opened up where reason could not illuminate, where man could no longer have certainty. Faith was then understood as a leap into the void that we make for lack of light, driven by a blind feeling; or as a subjective light, perhaps capable of warming the heart, of bringing private consolation, but which cannot offer itself to others as an objective and common light to illuminate the path. Little by little, however, it has become apparent that the light of autonomous reason cannot sufficiently illuminate the future; in the end, it remains in its darkness and leaves man in fear of the unknown. And so man has given up the search for a great light, for a great truth, to be content with small lights that illuminate the brief moment, but are incapable of opening the way. When light is missing, everything becomes confused, it is impossible to distinguish good from evil, the road that leads to the goal from the one that makes us walk in repetitive, directionless circles.

A light to be rediscovered

4. There is therefore an urgent need to recover the character of light proper to faith, because when its flame is extinguished, all other lights also lose their vigour. Indeed, the light of faith possesses a singular character, being capable of illuminating the whole of human existence. For a light to be so powerful, it cannot proceed from ourselves, it must come from a more original source, it must ultimately come from God. Faith is born in the encounter with the living God, who calls us and reveals his love to us, a love that precedes us and on which we can stand firm and build life. Transformed by this love we receive new eyes, we experience that there is a great promise of fullness in it, and a glimpse of the future opens up to us. Faith, which we receive from God as a supernatural gift, appears as a light for the road, a light that directs our path through time. On the one hand, it proceeds from the past, it is the light of a founding memory, that of Jesus' life, where his fully trustworthy love, capable of conquering death, was manifested. At the same time, however, because Christ is risen and draws us beyond death, faith is light that comes from the future, that opens up before us great horizons, and takes us beyond our isolated 'I' towards the breadth of communion. We understand then that faith does not dwell in darkness; that it is a light for our darkness. Dante, in the Divine Comedy, after having confessed his faith before St Peter, describes it as a 'spark, / that expands into flame then lively / and like a star in heaven in me sparkles'. It is precisely of this light of faith that I would like to speak, so that it may grow to illuminate the present until it becomes a star that shows the horizons of our journey, at a time when man is particularly in need of light.

[Lumen Fidei]