A holy Church with unholy members
Published Jun 05, 2022 00:05 am
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Updated Jun 05, 2022 00:05 am
THROUGH UNTRUE
Fr. Rolando V. dela Rosa, O.P.
Today, 50 days after Easter Sunday, we celebrate the solemn feast of Pentecost, traditionally considered the birthday of the Church. One of the enduring qualities of the Church is holiness, precisely because of the presence and activity of the Holy Spirit, the sanctifier.
And yet, after more than 2,000 years, the irony remains. The Church is holy, but its members are not. In the Church, the saint is the exception rather than the rule. Ask a child what he wants to be in the future. Seldom will you hear: “I want to be a saint.” He would rather be a superhero, a wealthy businessman, a politician, a celebrity, or an athlete.
So far, the Church has officially recognized only two Filipinos as saints, and they both died violently: St. Lorenzo Ruiz and St. Pedro Calungsod. They are presented as models for emulation, but their sanctity seems to have required a brutal shattering of the self. So, like St. Augustine, we bargain as we pray: “Lord, make me holy, but not now!” Holiness has become a frightening possibility.
Perhaps the fear derives from our unwillingness to give up those things that are obstacles to happiness. C.S. Lewis writes: “I thought that holiness is not possible because of something I could not do. I realized that it was because of what I CANNOT STOP DOING. If only I could leave off, let go, unmake myself, I would be holy.” It took him a lifetime to discard his destructive habits, and stop clinging to things, beliefs, and values that gave him false security and transient happiness.
The fear of holiness also derives from a gnawing sense of uncertainty. We are naturally afraid of the unknown. Sanctity demands that we turn our back on what is safe, secure, and certain in exchange for what is simply PROMISED. It is frightening to embrace the unfamiliar and uncertain with no confident assurance that we have made the right choice. This is perhaps why faith is described as a "leap in the dark."
Finally, there is the fear of deception. Even a person who loudly proclaims his love for God knows that he is still holding something back — just in case. He is afraid of being deceived in the end. The movie Joan of Arc tells us that the last temptation a saint undergoes is to think that God has deceived him. Some commentators write that even Jesus faced this temptation, that is why He exclaimed: “My God, why have you abandoned me” (Matthew 27:46).
But during the first Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit descended on the apostles in the form of tongues of fire (Acts 2:3-4), they discovered that fear melts when they allow the Holy Spirit to enkindle in their hearts the fire of holiness. As many other saints experienced, the Holy Spirit quenches our relentless pursuit of glory, pleasure, power, and wealth and replaces this with the desire for sanctity.
Pentecost then is also a warning. The fire of holiness that the Spirit bestows on us continues to burn only within our lifetime. Remember the parable of the reluctant dinner guest who finally decided to attend the party but found the door closed in his face because he came too late. Our tenure on earth is not infinite, nor are our choices unlimited. St. Augustine writes, "God created us without us; but He cannot save us without us." Or, as C.S. Lewis quipped, “For a game to be won, it must also be possible to lose it.”
Fr. Rolando V. dela Rosa, O.P.
Today, 50 days after Easter Sunday, we celebrate the solemn feast of Pentecost, traditionally considered the birthday of the Church. One of the enduring qualities of the Church is holiness, precisely because of the presence and activity of the Holy Spirit, the sanctifier.
And yet, after more than 2,000 years, the irony remains. The Church is holy, but its members are not. In the Church, the saint is the exception rather than the rule. Ask a child what he wants to be in the future. Seldom will you hear: “I want to be a saint.” He would rather be a superhero, a wealthy businessman, a politician, a celebrity, or an athlete.
So far, the Church has officially recognized only two Filipinos as saints, and they both died violently: St. Lorenzo Ruiz and St. Pedro Calungsod. They are presented as models for emulation, but their sanctity seems to have required a brutal shattering of the self. So, like St. Augustine, we bargain as we pray: “Lord, make me holy, but not now!” Holiness has become a frightening possibility.
Perhaps the fear derives from our unwillingness to give up those things that are obstacles to happiness. C.S. Lewis writes: “I thought that holiness is not possible because of something I could not do. I realized that it was because of what I CANNOT STOP DOING. If only I could leave off, let go, unmake myself, I would be holy.” It took him a lifetime to discard his destructive habits, and stop clinging to things, beliefs, and values that gave him false security and transient happiness.
The fear of holiness also derives from a gnawing sense of uncertainty. We are naturally afraid of the unknown. Sanctity demands that we turn our back on what is safe, secure, and certain in exchange for what is simply PROMISED. It is frightening to embrace the unfamiliar and uncertain with no confident assurance that we have made the right choice. This is perhaps why faith is described as a "leap in the dark."
Finally, there is the fear of deception. Even a person who loudly proclaims his love for God knows that he is still holding something back — just in case. He is afraid of being deceived in the end. The movie Joan of Arc tells us that the last temptation a saint undergoes is to think that God has deceived him. Some commentators write that even Jesus faced this temptation, that is why He exclaimed: “My God, why have you abandoned me” (Matthew 27:46).
But during the first Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit descended on the apostles in the form of tongues of fire (Acts 2:3-4), they discovered that fear melts when they allow the Holy Spirit to enkindle in their hearts the fire of holiness. As many other saints experienced, the Holy Spirit quenches our relentless pursuit of glory, pleasure, power, and wealth and replaces this with the desire for sanctity.
Pentecost then is also a warning. The fire of holiness that the Spirit bestows on us continues to burn only within our lifetime. Remember the parable of the reluctant dinner guest who finally decided to attend the party but found the door closed in his face because he came too late. Our tenure on earth is not infinite, nor are our choices unlimited. St. Augustine writes, "God created us without us; but He cannot save us without us." Or, as C.S. Lewis quipped, “For a game to be won, it must also be possible to lose it.”