 + “You will know them by their fruits,” Our Lord teaches in this morning’s Gospel. “A sound tree cannot bear evil fruit, nor can a bad tree bear good fruit,” he insists.
In the past fortnight we have seen the cold, technocratic, and possibly even malicious—it is hard to find the right words—exclusion of one most fruitful trees in the garden of the Church. I speak, of course, of the recent (but highly questionable) declaration of the excommunication of the bishops, clergy and others of the Society of St Pius X. Whilst parishes and seminaries and religious houses have dwindled and closed worldwide in recent decades, this group have built and opened houses of formation and churches and chapels in every continent, and continue so to do. So much so that it is an undisputed fact that their ageing bishops needed help in sustaining the sacramental life of the faithful who turn to them. One may legitimately question whether or not the recent episcopal consecrations should have proceeded without the papal mandate—and in the leadup there certainly seems to have been intransigence on both sides—but it remains a fact that they were pastorally necessary. The result of the declaration of excommunication has been to confuse if not to scandalise the simple faithful and to give opportunistic liberals—whether mitred, priestly or lay—weapons with which to terrorise them further. The fact that the declaration and its attendant documents were, seemingly, canonically deficient adds even further to the confusion and scandal. All of this has troubled people and filled many with distressing worries and scruples. It is only to be expected—as we have seen in people contacting the monastery in recent days—that despair and bitterness are predictable responses to such unwise communications, especially communications from those who hold places of authority. One cannot escape the possibility that the charge of being “false prophets,” against which Our Lord warns us this morning, could be applicable. In the Gradual of this Mass the Church sings in the words of the Psalmist: “Come, O sons, listen to me, I will teach you the fear of the Lord. Look to him, and be radiant; so your faces shall never be ashamed.” How far removed is this assurance from the spreading of ambiguity which troubles others and fills them with useless scruples! Despair and bitterness are predictable responses to unguarded communications, especially from those who hold places of authority, such as the false prophets against whom Our Lord warns us. A genuine father can be recognised by his teaching of the fear of the Lord so as to ever draw people to God that He may illumine them and give them the courage to do that which is necessary for His glory—not only to act for His glory out of duty, but to rejoice in Him with joy and thanksgiving. True fear of the Lord draws a person to keep the eternal verities before their eyes—pre-eminently the four last things and the need ever to work for the salvation of their soul and of the souls of others. If we are conscious of the reality of eternity the right manner of dealing with what is temporal becomes clear. In our present context we must keep this before us always. Political posturing and ideology and partisan division in the Church must not be allowed to distract or divert us from the path of salvation. It must not be allowed to keep us from the sacraments and the saving graces that they convey. To supposedly excommunicate people in the hope that they will somehow return from such banishment when abusive, power-grabbing policies such as those promulgated in Traditiones Custodes are still officially in force is risible at best and pure evil at worst. In these circumstances the faithful can only turn to the sources of grace that are actually at their disposition. This morning’s Gospel ends with a stark warning: “Not everybody who says to me 'Lord, Lord,' shall enter the kingdom of heaven. But he that doeth the will of my Father.” In these tumultuous times let all examine their consciences accordingly, ever conscious that the salvation of souls, and not the preservation of some ideology, is the supreme law in the Church.  To celebrate the feast of St Benedict we are offering a 20% discount on our four medals of St Benedict for the remainder of the month of July. The medal is available as a medal only in a silver or bronze finish, or in a silver finish with a chain, or in a bronze finish with a key ring. Each medal is double-sided with both designs. Order here. (Those in the USA are advised to combine their order with other people or products where possible due to the high shipping costs in force because of the tariffs imposed last year.) Pour célébrer la fête de saint Benoît, nous vous offrons une réduction de 20 % sur nos quatre médailles de saint Benoît jusqu'à la fin du mois de juillet. La médaille est disponible seule, en finition argent ou bronze, ou en finition argent avec une chaîne, ou encore en finition bronze avec un porte-clé. Chaque médaille comporte les deux motifs, recto et verso. Commandez ici. A Homily for the Sixth Sunday after Pentecost - Homélie pour le sixième dimanche après la Pentecôte7/5/2026
 (Le texte en français suit.)
+ Ad te Domine, clamabo, Deus meus, ne sileas a me; ne quando taceas a me, et assimilabor descendentibus in lacum, the Church sings the Introit of this Holy Mass. “To thee, O Lord, I call; my rock, be not deaf to me, lest, if thou be silent to me, I become like those who go down to the Pit.” With these first words of Psalm 27 the Sacred Liturgy aptly expresses the distress of many souls in the light of ecclesial events of recent days. Whether or not one accepts that conscientious disobedience to positive (i.e. man-made, not divine) law (in respect of the consecration of bishops) is or was justified in current circumstances, and can therefore tolerate material but not formal (i.e. in fact gravely sinful) disobedience to ecclesiastical authority, we now face a new crisis—one of the pastoral order, whereby the faithful whose sole desire is to be faithful to the Church and to save their souls and those of their families are menaced by the threat of the sin of schism and of the penalty of excommunication. Their distress is real and it is compounded by commentary that is often far from accurate and which is lacking in the necessary pastoral precision. Rightly, they feel that this is all simply too much. With just cause do many cry out this morning: “To thee, O Lord, I call; my rock, be not deaf to me, lest, if thou be silent to me, I become like those who go down to the Pit.” So let us be clear: there is no sin (of schism or of any other sort) in simply seeking the salvation of one’s soul through the traditional liturgical rites of the Church, as the prayers for the Pope and the Diocesan Bishop which they contain attest. These prayers in fact bear witness to the exact opposite of schism. They are public manifestations at the very heart of our public worship of Catholic unity and of communion, not of sectarian division. And one is not excommunicated because one’s access to the older liturgical rites is sometimes or usually through a community who, before God, believed that they had no choice other than to engage in conscientious material disobedience to Church law in order to survive and remain faithful to their vocation and mission. Whatever of the culpability of clerics—and this is not the occasion to discuss that—even the official documents cited by the Holy See in recent days make it clear that the lay faithful simply seeking to worship Almighty God and receive the sacraments do not incur the penalty of excommunication thereby. (see: Explanatory Note, Pontifical Council for Legislative Texts, 24 August 1996) In the face of the ongoing brouhaha, one might well say: ‘Keep trad and carry on.’ For it remains true that “what earlier generations held as sacred, remains sacred and great for us too, and it cannot be all of a sudden entirely forbidden or even considered harmful.” (Benedict XVI, Letter to the Bishops, 7 July 2007) Of course, this truth was subjected to an orchestrated attack through that scandalous back-room ideological plot fuelled by the paranoia of ageing ecclesiastical liberals and based on downright lies that shamelessly manipulated the will of world’s bishops that we know only too well: the pastoral, liturgical and ecclesial disaster Traditiones Custodes (16 July 2021) that sought to end the peaceful worship of God according to the older rites that increasing numbers had grown fruitfully to love, driving faithful Catholics underground or away from parishes and dioceses and at times even outside of the visible communion of the Church. That the orchestrators of this scandal and the high priests of its heartless implementation remain at the centre of power to this day is a cause of very deep concern. It may also go some way to explain the technocratic severity with which the Vatican has acted in recent days. That Traditiones Custodes has not yet been set aside—quietly or otherwise—and that diocesan bishops continue to use it to forbid the celebration of the older liturgical rites cries out to heaven for justice. Rightly, this morning, do we sing: “To thee, O Lord, I call; my rock, be not deaf to me, lest, if thou be silent to me, I become like those who go down to the Pit.” The matter-of-fact severity with which the Vatican has responded to the events of recent days, and indeed the silence of the Holy Father in their wake, is indeed another source of serious concern. For some time now we have been repeating the words of Pope Benedict XVI—a pope who worked earnestly and fruitfully for ecclesial unity and liturgical peace: “Looking back over the past, to the divisions which in the course of the centuries have rent the Body of Christ, one continually has the impression that, at critical moments when divisions were coming about, not enough was done by the Church’s leaders to maintain or regain reconciliation and unity. One has the impression that omissions on the part of the Church have had their share of blame for the fact that these divisions were able to harden. This glance at the past imposes an obligation on us today: to make every effort to enable for all those who truly desire unity to remain in that unity or to attain it anew.” (Letter to the Bishops, 7 July 2007) This morning, unfortunately, his words are all the more pertinent. More could and should have been done in recent months, weeks and days. More must be done to build bridges and to open doors. The teaching of the Parable of the Lost Sheep (Mt 18:12-14) applies no matter what one thinks of the sheep concerned or how obstinate one believes it, or they, to be. In his pursuit of Church unity, in 2008 Pope Benedict XVI lifted the excommunications from the (then) four bishops of the Society of St Pius X. In his own words, “the quiet gesture of extending a hand gave rise to a huge uproar, and thus became exactly the opposite of a gesture of reconciliation.” So much so that the Pope found it necessary to write an unprecedented apologia to the bishops of the world. The questions he raised therein are more than pertinent in these days: “Was it, and is it, truly wrong in this case to meet half-way the brother who ‘has something against you’ (cf. Mt 5:23ff.) and to seek reconciliation? … Can it be completely mistaken to work to break down obstinacy and narrowness, and to make space for what is positive and retrievable for the whole? …Can we be totally indifferent about a community which has 733 priests, 264 seminarians, 5 seminaries, 94 schools, 2 university-level institutes, 144 religious brothers, 250 religious sisters and thousands of lay faithful? Should we casually let them drift farther from the Church? I think for example of the 733 priests…I do not think that they would have chosen the priesthood if…they did not have a love for Christ and a desire to proclaim him and, with him, the living God. Can we simply exclude them, as representatives of a radical fringe, from our pursuit of reconciliation and unity? What would then become of them? [statistics updated to those published in 2025] Certainly, for some time now, and once again on this specific occasion, we have heard from some representatives of that community many unpleasant things – arrogance and presumptuousness, an obsession with one-sided positions, etc… But should not the great Church also allow herself to be generous in the knowledge of her great breadth, in the knowledge of the promise made to her? Should not we, as good educators, also be capable of overlooking various faults and making every effort to open up broader vistas? And should we not admit that some unpleasant things have also emerged in Church circles? …During the days when I first had the idea of writing this letter, by chance, during a visit to the Roman Seminary, I had to interpret and comment on Galatians 5:13-15. I was surprised at the directness with which that passage speaks to us about the present moment: "Do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love be servants of one another. For the whole law is fulfilled in one word: ‘You shall love your neighbour as yourself’. But if you bite and devour one another, take heed that you are not consumed by one another." …sad to say, this "biting and devouring" also exists in the Church today, as expression of a poorly understood freedom. Should we be surprised that we too are no better than the Galatians? That at the very least we are threatened by the same temptations? That we must always learn anew the proper use of freedom? And that we must always learn anew the supreme priority, which is love?” (Letter to the Bishops, 10 March 2009) The purpose of these observations is not to declare for or against any group or person, let alone to judge them or to seek to exclude them. Let us not forget that whilst the prodigal son sinned shamelessly, his self-righteous elder brother did so also. (cf. Lk 15:11-32) Both were guilty of grave matter of which they needed to repent. And this is most certainly not an attack on our Holy Father—we do not know his motivations or intentions, and even if his silence leaves a significant vacuum, we owe him the patience that is part of filial respect. Let us pray earnestly for the Holy Father in these days! The purpose of these observations is solely to recall some fundamental truths and to insist that we are all called to pray and work in whatever way we can for their recognition and for reconciliation and Catholic unity. Even as we may share the distress and fear of the psalmist that all may be lost and that we are descending ever more rapidly into the Pit (or that we have already been cast into it) the Sacred Liturgy now takes us up to the Altar of God, where, by the infinite merits of Christ’s Sacrifice on the Cross, all that seems lost can be found again, and all that was dead can rise to new life (cf. Lk 15:32). Even as our hearts may be heavy, and much as we may feel wounded and distressed and even abandoned, let us never doubt that if we are faithful the Lord shall hear our plea and save us. For the grace of that fidelity and for an increase of the grace of supernatural hope in ourselves and in others, let us pray earnestly in this Holy Mass. + --------------------------------------------------------- + Ad te Domine, clamabo, Deus meus, ne sileas a me; ne quando taceas a me, et assimilabor descendentibus in lacum chante l’Église dans l’introït de cette sainte messe. « Vers vous, ô Seigneur, je crie ; mon rocher, ne restez pas sourd à ma voix, de peur que, si vous me faites taire, je ne devienne comme ceux qui descendent dans la fosse ». Par ces premiers mots du psaume 27, la sainte liturgie exprime avec justesse la détresse de nombreuses âmes face aux événements ecclésiastiques de ces derniers jours. Que l’on admette ou non que la désobéissance de conscience à une loi positive (c’est-à-dire humaine, et non divine) (en ce qui concerne la consécration des évêques) soit ou ait été justifiée dans les circonstances actuelles, et que l’on puisse donc tolérer une désobéissance matérielle mais non formelle (c’est-à-dire en réalité un péché grave) à l’autorité ecclésiastique, nous sommes désormais confrontés à une nouvelle crise — d’ordre pastoral —, dans laquelle les fidèles, dont le seul désir est d’être fidèles à l’Église et de sauver leur âme ainsi que celles de leur famille, sont menacés par le péché de schisme et la peine d’excommunication. Leur détresse est réelle et elle est aggravée par des commentaires souvent loin d’être exacts et dépourvus de la précision pastorale nécessaire. À juste titre, ils ont le sentiment que tout cela est tout simplement trop. C’est à juste titre qu’ils s’écrient ce matin : « Vers vous, ô Seigneur, je crie ; mon rocher, ne restez pas sourd à ma voix, de peur que, si vous me faites taire, je ne devienne comme ceux qui descendent dans la fosse ». Soyons donc clairs : il n’y a aucun péché (de schisme ou de quelque autre nature que ce soit) à rechercher simplement le salut de son âme à travers les rites liturgiques traditionnels de l’Église, comme en témoignent les prières pour le pape et l’évêque diocésain qu’ils contiennent. Ces prières témoignent en effet exactement du contraire du schisme. Elles constituent, au cœur même de notre culte public, des manifestations de l’unité et de la communion catholiques, et non d’une division sectaire. De plus, on ne peut pas être excommunié parce que l’accès aux rites liturgiques antéconciliaires se fait parfois ou habituellement par l’intermédiaire d’une communauté qui, devant Dieu, estimait n’avoir d’autre choix que de se livrer à une désobéissance matérielle de conscience au droit ecclésiastique afin de survivre et de rester fidèle à sa vocation et à sa mission. Quelle que soit la culpabilité des ecclésiastiques — et ce n’est pas ici le lieu d’en discuter —, même les documents officiels cités ces derniers jours par le Saint-Siège indiquent clairement que les fidèles laïcs qui cherchent simplement à adorer Dieu et à recevoir les sacrements n’encourent pas pour autant la peine d’excommunication. (voir : Note explicative, Conseil pontifical pour les textes législatifs, 24 août 1996) Face au tollé actuel, on pourrait bien dire : « Restons fidèles à la tradition et continuons comme avant ». Car il n’en reste pas moins vrai que « […] ce que les générations précédentes considéraient comme sacré reste sacré et grand pour nous aussi, et ne peut être du jour au lendemain entièrement interdit, ni même considéré comme nuisible.». (Benoît XVI, Lettre aux évêques, 7 juillet 2007). Malheureusement, cette vérité a fait l’objet d’une attaque orchestrée par une idéologie pernicieuse alimentée par la paranoïa de certains ecclésiastiques libéraux et vieillissants. Fondée sur des mensonges éhontés qui ont manipulé sans vergogne la volonté des évêques du monde entier, comme nous ne le savons que trop bien : le désastre pastoral, liturgique et ecclésial que constitue Traditiones Custodes (16 juillet 2021), qui visait à mettre fin à la paix liturgique qui permettait la célébration du culte selon les rites anciens qu’un nombre croissant de fidèles avait appris à aimer de manière fructueuse, poussant ainsi les catholiques fidèles à la clandestinité ou à s’éloigner des paroisses et des diocèses, voire parfois à sortir de la communion visible de l’Église. Le fait que les orchestrateurs de ce scandale et les grands prêtres de sa mise en œuvre impitoyable restent à ce jour au cœur du pouvoir est une source de très profonde inquiétude. Cela peut également expliquer en partie la sévérité technocratique avec laquelle le Vatican a agi ces derniers jours. Le fait que Traditionis Custodes n’ait pas encore été abrogé — d’une manière discrète ou non — et que les évêques diocésains continuent de s’en servir pour interdire la célébration des du rit romain antique est un de ces cris qui montent jusqu’au ciel. C’est à juste titre que nous chantons ce matin : « Vers vous, ô Seigneur, je crie ; mon rocher, ne restez pas sourd à ma voix, de peur que, si vous me faites taire, je ne devienne comme ceux qui descendent dans la fosse ». La sévérité sans détour avec laquelle le Vatican a réagi aux événements de ces derniers jours, et même le silence du Saint-Père à leur suite, constituent une autre source de grave préoccupation. Depuis quelque temps déjà, nous répétons les paroles du pape Benoît XVI — un pape qui a œuvré avec ferveur et succès pour l’unité ecclésiale et la paix liturgique : « En jetant un regard rétrospectif sur le passé, sur les divisions qui, au fil des siècles, ont déchiré le Corps du Christ, on a sans cesse l’impression qu’aux moments critiques où ces divisions se produisaient, les responsables de l’Église n’ont pas fait assez pour préserver ou rétablir la réconciliation et l’unité. On a l’impression que les omissions de la part de l’Église ont leur part de responsabilité dans le fait que ces divisions ont pu se cristalliser. Ce regard sur le passé nous impose aujourd’hui une obligation : tout mettre en œuvre pour permettre à tous ceux qui désirent sincèrement l’unité de demeurer dans cette unité ou de la retrouver. » (Lettre aux évêques, 7 juillet 2007) Ce matin, malheureusement, ses paroles sont d’autant plus pertinentes. On aurait pu et dû en faire davantage ces derniers mois, ces dernières semaines et ces derniers jours. Il faut en faire davantage pour jeter des ponts et ouvrir des portes. L’enseignement de la parabole de la brebis perdue (Mt 18, 12-14) s’applique, quelle que soit l’opinion que l’on ait de la brebis en question ou le degré d’obstination qu’on lui attribue. Dans sa quête de l’unité de l’Église, le pape Benoît XVI a levé en 2008 les excommunications qui pesaient sur les quatre évêques (à l’époque) de la Fraternité Saint-Pie X. Selon ses propres termes, « […] ce geste discret consistant à tendre la main a suscité une immense réaction, devenant ainsi exactement le contraire d’un geste de réconciliation ». À tel point que le pape a jugé nécessaire de rédiger une apologie sans précédent à l’intention des évêques du monde entier. Les questions qu’il y soulevait sont plus que pertinentes aujourd’hui : « Était-ce, et est-ce, vraiment une erreur, dans ce cas précis, d’aller à la rencontre du frère qui “a quelque chose contre toi” (cf. Mt 5, 23 et suivants) et de rechercher la réconciliation ? … Peut-on considérer comme une erreur totale de s’efforcer de briser l’obstination et l’étroitesse d’esprit, et de faire de la place à ce qui est positif et récupérable pour l’ensemble ? … Pouvons-nous rester totalement indifférents face à une communauté qui compte 733 prêtres, 264 séminaristes, 5 séminaires, 94 écoles, 2 instituts de niveau universitaire, 144 frères religieux, 250 sœurs religieuses et des milliers de fidèles laïcs ? Devrions-nous les laisser dériver sans sourciller toujours plus loin de l’Église ? Je pense par exemple aux 733 prêtres… Je ne crois pas qu’ils auraient choisi la prêtrise s’ils n’avaient pas eu un amour pour le Christ et le désir de le proclamer, ainsi que, avec lui, le Dieu vivant. Pouvons-nous simplement les exclure, en tant que représentants d’une frange radicale, de notre quête de réconciliation et d’unité ? Que deviendraient-ils alors ? [statistiques mises à jour selon celles publiées en 2025] Certes, depuis quelque temps déjà, et une fois encore en cette occasion précise, nous avons entendu de la part de certains représentants de cette communauté bien des propos déplaisants – arrogance et présomption, obsession pour des positions unilatérales, etc. Mais la grande Église ne devrait-elle pas aussi se permettre d’être généreuse, consciente de sa grande ouverture d’esprit, consciente de la promesse qui lui a été faite ? Ne devrions-nous pas, en tant que bons éducateurs, être également capables de fermer les yeux sur divers défauts et de tout mettre en œuvre pour ouvrir des perspectives plus larges ? Et ne devrions-nous pas admettre que certaines choses déplaisantes ont également fait surface dans les milieux ecclésiastiques ? …À l’époque où m’est venue pour la première fois l’idée d’écrire cette lettre, par hasard, lors d’une visite au Séminaire romain, j’ai dû interpréter et commenter Galates 5, 13-15. J’ai été surpris par la franchise avec laquelle ce passage nous parle du moment présent : « Ne vous servez pas de votre liberté comme d’un prétexte pour satisfaire la chair, mais, par amour, soyez au service les uns des autres. Car toute la loi est accomplie dans une seule parole : “Tu aimeras ton prochain comme toi-même”. Mais si vous vous mordez et vous dévorez les uns les autres, prenez garde à ne pas vous détruire les uns les autres. » … Malheureusement, ce « se mordre et se dévorer » existe aussi aujourd’hui dans l’Église, comme l’expression d’une liberté mal comprise. Faut-il s’étonner que nous ne valions pas mieux que les Galates ? Qu’à tout le moins, nous soyons menacés par les mêmes tentations ? Que nous devions toujours réapprendre à faire bon usage de la liberté ? Et que nous devions toujours réapprendre la priorité suprême, qui est l’amour ? » (Lettre aux évêques, 10 mars 2009) Le but de ces observations n’est pas de prendre parti pour ou contre un groupe ou une personne, et encore moins de les juger ou de chercher à les exclure. N’oublions pas que si le fils prodigue a péché sans vergogne, son frère aîné, qui se croyait sans péché, a lui aussi péché (cf. Lc 15, 11-32). Tous deux étaient coupables de fautes graves dont ils devaient se repentir. Et il ne s’agit certainement pas là d’une attaque contre notre Saint-Père — nous ne connaissons ni ses motivations ni ses intentions, et même si son silence laisse un vide considérable, nous lui devons la patience qui fait partie du respect filial. Prions avec ferveur pour le Saint-Père en ces jours ! Le but de ces observations est uniquement de rappeler certaines vérités fondamentales et d’insister sur le fait que nous sommes tous appelés à prier et à œuvrer, de toutes les manières possibles, pour leur reconnaissance, ainsi que pour la réconciliation et l’unité catholique. Même si nous partageons la détresse et la crainte du psalmiste, qui redoute que tout soit perdu et que nous sombrions de plus en plus rapidement dans l’abîme (ou que nous y ayons déjà été précipités), la Sainte Liturgie nous élève maintenant vers l’autel de Dieu, où, par les mérites infinis du sacrifice du Christ sur la croix, tout ce qui semble perdu peut être retrouvé, et tout ce qui était mort peut renaître à une vie nouvelle (cf. Lc 15, 32). Aussi lourd que soit notre cœur, aussi blessés, angoissés, voire abandonnés que nous puissions nous sentir, ne doutons jamais que, si nous sommes fidèles, le Seigneur entendra notre supplication et nous sauvera. Pour la grâce de cette fidélité et pour que grandisse en nous et chez les autres la grâce de l’espérance surnaturelle, prions avec ferveur au cours de cette Sainte Messe. +  + It is only somebody with more authority than his predecessor who can say: “it was said; but I say to you…” Only Our Lord, Who Himself is God, can say this regarding the Law of Moses, which itself was given to Moses by God. Does this not suggest then that God has contradicted Himself? Such a thing is unthinkable. We must then understand how it is that the different passages we encounter in the liturgy today were written. A key to understanding the continuity of the Old and New Testaments when we face texts like this is the statement of Our Lord concerning divorce: “Moses only permitted divorce for your hardness of heart, it was not so from the beginning” (Matthew 19:8). That is to say that within the old dispensation, there are aspects which were given not for themselves but because the people were not yet able to fulfil the demands that are truly made on them. Under Christ this is no longer the case. No longer is it permissible to take half measures. Or rather Christ, in the full knowledge of our human frailty, has given us the means to return from our sin and begin anew in our struggle to keep His commands. Indeed, He has given us the confessional and the imperative to repair the damages that have been done by our sin. Often this repair work is not easy, but it is ever necessary through whatever means are possible within the moral law. And not only does He provide the opportunity to start again, but also offers the grace to remain strong in His love. Reading the Old and New Testaments together in such a manner allowed the tradition to speak of the distinction between the spirit and the letter of the Scripture. To be clear, this distinction only applies to the Old Testament. It exists precisely because it is a divine text written primarily as a prophecy of Christ’s Passion Death and Resurrection, and secondarily as lived in its own historical context. Certainly, this does not denigrate the history, or historical context, nor undermine those parts which are unquestionably and universally valuable. Rather, it enhances them and grounds them within the Christological and Trinitarian perspective. One of the consequences of every text being written in the context of the coming of the Christ is that they must also be read in the light of Him, as has been passed down in Tradition. Pope Benedict XVI so often spoke of the hermeneutic of continuity as being the manner in which a text ought to be read, but it is even the only hermeneutic that a Christian can ever know. This is what it is to pass on what has been received. It is exactly on this that every Father at every Ecumenical Council has based his contribution. No council has more authority than any other, but works in harmony with them. And the Tradition must, and does, supply clarity if there is any ambiguity. The doctrinal and pastoral necessity with which the Church was faced at the time of any given council only provided the prompting to the given applications made. Thus it is even possible to say that the spirit of any given passage is utterly traditional. It is not only texts to which such principles of continuity apply. Never is it acceptable to make a substantial and sudden difference to the daily practice of our faith, be that in the church or at home. Only the Christ’s act on Calvary could change our worship of God radically because only there did the prefiguration cease to have any meaning in the face of its fulfilment. And not only did it lose meaning, but became a denial, a rejection, of that for which it was waiting and prophesying. Never before, nor since, can such a differentiation happen. The Gospel cannot itself be fulfilled, nor supplanted. When Our Lord comes again, no longer will He say “You have heard; now I say to you.” Rather, He will examine our keeping of those commands. +  We recently received the generous gift of a beautiful Marian set of vestments in the ancient 'conical' style from some very good friends of the monastery, which they painstakingly made themselves from the finest of materials. It is a true work of liturgical art and beauty. We are happy to share some photos from its blessing and from one of its first uses. Ad Iesum per Mariam!   + In reality, in private, away from the games we often play in front of others, very few people overestimate themselves. We know our faults and sins only too well. The wounds and scars that life has inflicted are ever-present. Whilst we may well put on a brave face or even push ourselves forward in the jostling for recognition, acceptance and even power that is so often part of social and public life, when all is said and done, we know that we are weak and even sometimes quite severely damaged—regardless of the fact that at times, we won’t even admit this to ourselves. It can be more than frightening to look into a mirror and see ourselves as in fact we are. Our phony public façade is often much more comforting, and the frenetic activity with which we occupy ourselves—as good as it may be in itself—serves sufficiently to distract us.
St Peter seems not to have had such a façade: he was an experienced fisherman, pure and simple—hardworking, impetuous at times and seemingly well accustomed to a futile night’s fishing. His encounter with Our Lord in this morning’s Gospel indicates that he was also a man of some piety: he readily accepted the Lord’s command to let down his nets once again, even though his instincts suggested that this would have little success. So too, his reaction to the resultant enormous catch of fish displays both piety and integrity: “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord,” St Peter exclaims, recognising at the same time the action of God in the miracle and his utter unworthiness in the face of it. We do not know of what sins St Peter was thinking—no doubt they were real enough. He clearly thought them to be sufficient to seek to exclude himself from the wonders that Our Lord was working in his very own boat. But God thinks otherwise. As Our Lord insists later in the same chapter of St Luke’s Gospel, “I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.” (v. 32) This is nothing other than the kernel of the Gospel. It is the Good News for which God became man: that we might understand that ultimately, because of God’s love and mercy and thanks to his efficacious sacrifice on the Cross, sins do not matter, they lose their “sting” (cf. 1 Cor. 15:56) as it were, if we repent and do penance. Like St Peter, we may look at ourselves and know only too well that we are sinners and that we have been guilty of much that would exclude us from God’s grace. But when we meet the purifying, compassionate and loving gaze of Our Lord we encounter the possibility of radical forgiveness and true healing. We need to be clear: God does not force His forgiveness upon us. There is no automatic absolution on offer. The idea that in the end God forgives everyone and that all go to heaven (often called “universal salvation”) is a heresy that is particularly virulent in our times—it is very often preached, at least implicitly, at funerals. No. Jesus Christ, the Eternal Son of God, became man in order to suffer and die on the Cross to offer us the possibility of the forgiveness of our sins. But we must open ourselves to this forgiveness. We must convert our lives and strive to sin no more. (cf. Jn. 8:1-11) In response to St Peter’s protest of his sinfulness Our Lord replied: “Do not be afraid; henceforth you will be catching men,” adding a rather astounding new dimension to this encounter. We might think that the humility of St Peter in the face of the miracle was sufficient—and indeed such humility is a great grace—but Our Lord had other plans. He called the sinful fisherman—Simon by name at that time—to become a fisher of men, indeed to become Peter, the rock upon which he would build His Church (cf. Mt 16:18)—nothing less! Herein we encounter the pure power of the grace of vocation. According to his own words Simon was a sinful fisherman. Yet according to God’s Providence he was called to become the Prince of the Apostles, the first pope, and a martyr bearing witness to Christ even to the very last drop of his blood. On the Vatican hill outside of the ancient confines of Rome, a church and then a great basilica have been erected over his tomb—many of us have had the privilege of praying there: a basilica in honour of a sinful man! More correctly, a basilica in honour of God’s grace working in and through a sinful man who had the humility to recognise his sins and to cooperate with God’s grace and God’s call. For that great basilica does not honour St Peter’s sins. Today they are forgiven and forgotten. We honour his fidelity to Christ and his perseverance in his vocation, even unto martyrdom. Much as we admire St Peter, looking into the mirror we may well be tempted to give him the rank of an exceptional saint whose virtues are simply above us. But no. He knew, as we know only too well, that he was a sinner. What he did not understand, and what we often need reminding, is that Our Lord’s call to repentance and to follow Him opens up paths that we can never ourselves imagine—if only we too will leave everything and follow Him. We shall celebrate the feasts of Saints Peter and Paul in a little over a week. Let us ask the Apostles’ intercession that we too shall have the courage to leave behind that which it is necessary to leave behind and to follow Our Lord to do and to become that to which He calls us. + There are three ways in which a just man can relate to the unjust. Firstly, with the indignation that “I cannot speak to you for you are a sinner.” Secondly, as an accuser of those sins, driving the sinner to resentment if not despair. The third manner is to lead the unjust to justice—to show them their sin so as to lead them to repentance without losing the fraternal bond of charity.
In truth, however, there is only one manner in which the just man may treat the unjust. We are not conceived immaculately nor are we God. The first two approaches serve only to heighten pride and increase ill will. The latter can bring the sinner to God. Our Lord demonstrates not only in His words the extent to which He will go to bring back the sinner to God, He also took the form of a servant and died the death of the lowest criminal to bring us back to God (cf. Philippians 2:7-8). And not only to bring us back to God, but to break the power of sin over us. How then could he fail to eat with the sinners of his day so as to turn them from their sin? He sought, and commands us to likewise, to make the kingdom of God available to all who would listen to the words of eternal life. Yet many, even most, turn their back on those same words. (cf. John 6:66-67) Yet not all those around Him were prepared to listen. The Pharisees and other religious authorities, believing themselves to be just, refused to take up His words and example. They would not be parted from their own sinful ways. And they despised and rejected those who thought and preached to others that they can put their sins behind them. Having no recognition of their need for salvation, Our Lord’s admonitions were of little avail and were often received as if an insult. It is not that they did not have need for correction, but only that they refused any acknowledgement of their imperfection. So likewise, it is with us. It is easy to know that the converted and repentant sinner is far more pleasing to God and the angels than the continuation of the just. Yet the recognition of the thorn in our own eye is not so easy (cf. Matthew 7:3-5). We also must convert from those sins and vices we have not fully driven out of our own persons. We are, nonetheless, entirely dependent upon the grace of God to avoid evil and do good. We live, however, in a world where it is often not those who are seeking God who boast of their justice, but those who are hardened in their sin. There are many who boast of their evil doing and rejoice to see sin. Often they even claim that this sin is justice. Bringing them the Gospel in all its implications is all the harder for that reality. Whilst the seed must still be scattered and sewn, it will often land not only on shallow soil but even on concrete (cf. Matthew 13:3-8). Yet even then it might penetrate a crack somehow and put down roots unto eternal life. Finding such an opening that the seed can penetrate takes much patience and perseverance. Nor can the good, but unsown, soil be ignored in the hope of finding the slightest crack in a sheet of concrete. Yet the charity demanded of us by Our Lord requires this work is undertaken. It is not by accusation of sin that the truth of God shall come to be known; rather it is through encountering His goodness that the evil of sin becomes self-evident. +  + Excuses. Excuses. Excuses. The Gospel is full of them: “I have bought a field, and I must go out and see it’…‘I have bought five yoke of oxen, and I am going to examine them’…‘I have married a wife, and therefore I cannot come.’ Such excuses may seem reasonable enough: there is nothing intrinsically wrong with committing matrimony or purchasing property or cattle. Indeed, they are goods ordered to the sustenance and prosperity of human life and its procreation. But some goods, some good things or endeavours or choices, are subordinate to higher ones. And this is the Truth that is being taught to us by Our Lord through the Sacred Liturgy of His Church this morning. Even good things that are not evil in themselves can be used to excuse ourselves from the demands that higher goods make upon us. We see this frequently enough in respect of the duty all Catholics have to be present at the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass each and every Sunday and Holy Day of Obligation throughout the year. Apart from the sheer avarice of using Sundays simply as another day for non-essential paid work, from the demands of children’s sport or family celebrations or the indulgence in favourite recreations, or the pressure to get some work or study done at home, or simply from sloth, all too many Catholics excuse themselves from the Lord’s Banquet, thereby turning otherwise good activities into idols and relegating the worship of Almighty God to second place. We must never forget the third commandment: “Remember to keep holy the Sabbath day” and the demand that it contains to worship God above all and before all, without making pathetic excuses. Certainly, the Church teaches that serious reasons such as grave illness or prolonged travel that make our attendance at Mass impossible are sufficient excuse for being absent, however buying a field or marrying a wife or five yoke of oxen—or any of the contemporary excuses we like to use—are not amongst them. The worship of God must come first. So too, we see the use of lesser goods to excuse from higher ones quite often when a young man or woman begins to think that the Lord may be inviting them to follow him in a particular vocation as a monk or a nun or a priest or religious. Certainly, the invitation is always challenging, if not truly frightening and the range of excuses one can employ in running away from it are myriad. There are so many apparently good things one could and can do otherwise! But, in the face of the Lord’s invitation they are mere excuses—excuses which in fact loose what goodness they may have enjoyed when they are employed to procrastinate or avoid and turn down the Lord’s call, and which can thereby become evils. A car remains a car: but when it is used to flee from a duty that is owed it loses its neutrality and becomes an instrument of wrongdoing. Fugitives are fugitives, even when they hide in seemingly good places. Such running away from God’s will is not the sole preserve of people ignoring His call. How many people flee marriage vows, ordination, or religious vows because, as the saying goes, the grass is seemingly greener on the other side of any given fence? Excuses are the diabolical antithesis to that perseverance to the end through which we are saved. (cf. Mt 24:13) The Lord’s invitation must be accepted on His terms and must not be diluted or dismissed according to conditions we impose. Preaching on this Gospel St Augustine interprets the excuses used thus: “I have married a wife, is the concupiscence of the flesh; [the] five yoke of oxen, the concupiscence of the eyes [or of the five senses]; I have bought a farm, the pride of life [or of power and of possessions].” Most, if not all, of our excuses fall under one of these categories. Again, much that falls under these categories is not necessarily evil in itself, but in the light of the Lord’s invitation to higher things, if they occlude that to which we are being invited they lose their erstwhile goodness. Evil, is, after all, defined as the privation of a due good. If fleshly desires, the delights of the senses and the attraction of power and of possessions are not subordinated to the life to which we are called by our very Baptism, and later to the particular vocation that is ours, they can become millstones around our necks. We might, then, describe this as “no excuses Sunday,” for Our Lord calls us this morning to a radical honesty in respect of the fundamental duties of our baptismal vocation and of those of the particular vocation He has given to each one of us. For His ‘invitation’ is not to some ephemeral social event in which we may or may not wish to participate. It is the invitation to enter the door that is in fact the gateway to eternal life; it is the invitation to the Supper of the Lamb (cf. Rev. 19:6-9), and if we make excuses we shall be counted amongst those spoken of at the end of this morning’s Gospel: “None of those men who were invited shall taste my banquet.” An examination of conscience is in order and, where we have hidden behind excuses, due repentance and amendment of life is necessary if we are to take our place at the Lord’s Eternal Banquet to which we are invited. For the grace so to do, let us beg Almighty God at this foretaste of that Banquet in which we now participate. +   + In this morning’s Gospel we hear Our Lord’s final instructions to His disciples given as He ascended into heaven: to baptise all peoples and to teach them all that I have commanded you. The two can never be truly separated, nor neglected. Europe, now being mission territory, requires us to take up this command anew with zeal and vigour. The unchanging truth of the Gospel, the Good news of our Redemption, imperatively demands proclamation.
It is only through baptism in the name of the Most Holy Trinity that we can be saved. Precisely because baptism is a once and for all event in our lives, we must guard the purity of that baptism ever more closely intact. It is for this reason that Our Lord so pertinently repeats that association of teaching with baptism. And what is it that is be taught? “To observe all that I have commanded you.” Without any doubt this includes the final command to baptise, in the name of the threefold persons who are one God. But this is far from all. It includes all the precepts assuring justice and charity before God. This is sacramental and ritual demand just as it is a moral one. Keeping the Lord’s Day holy, for example, requires the rightful worship of God and doing what good to one's neighbour as may be found needful. No commandment, divinely given, can be explained away or be manipulated or inverted through some sophism. God has given these commands because they are pertinent and good for us. We cannot find some excuse to shake them off. Nor, however, can we observe them so pharisaically so as to destroy the reason for their being given. This is precisely the fault of the Pharisees. There are, moreover, times when, without obfuscating the truth, some tact is necessary in order to convince the world of the truth of the Church before revealing the fullness of that truth to them. Never can this be done in such a manner as to imply an acceptance of their sin, but rather in offering a delicacy which does not drive them ever further from the Church. The command to instruct and baptise offers the highest form of charity to neighbour. Living integrally within the Church is the first fundamental choice that is necessary for somebody’s eternal good. All temporal goods are fleeting and as nothing in comparison, but they are nonetheless goods. This is a reality. The apostolic mission requires all to work together. No individual person is sufficient, yet all are nonetheless required to play their part. The laity can reach those places and persons to whom the clergy do not have easy access, especially in schools and universities. But the clergy are needed to offer the necessary formation, and above all the sacraments. Neither can work in isolation or distance from the other. Let us allow, therefore, this Holy Mass to infuse within us an ever more fervent love of the Trinity. Praising God ever more fully, let that fervour pour out from us to those around us, in all scenarios. Working with all the vigour of a true Apostle in the modern world, ever must we proclaim the reality of the Holy Trinity more clearly through our words and actions. + |
Thinking of a monastic vocation? Please read:
Am I called to be a monk? 
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