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Archbishop Henry J. Mansell
Pope Benedict XVI has given us an early Christmas present this year. It is his beautiful encyclical, Spe Salvi (In Hope We Were Saved), dated Nov. 30, 2007, the feast of St. Andrew the Apostle.
The work is a masterpiece, a tour de force. It requires heavy concentration, but meditation and reflection upon it will be profoundly rewarding.
The title is taken from St. Paul’s Epistle to the Romans (8:24), and the Holy Father proceeds to draw significant insights from the Letters of St. Paul, indeed from the New Testament at large, and from the Psalms.
Pope Benedict guides us on a journey over the centuries, stopping to visit with theologians, philosophers, and saints. It is a demanding tour, drawing sentiments for the ages from St. Ambrose, St. Augustine, St. Gregory Nazianzus, St. Benedict, St. Maximus the Confessor, St. Thomas Aquinas, St. Francis of Assisi, St. Paul Le-Bao-Tinh of Vietnam, and St. Josephine Bakhita of Sudan. The consequences of the teachings from philosophers like Francis Bacon, Immanuel Kant, Friedrich Engels, Karl Marx, Vladimir Lenin, etc. are laid bare from the perspective of the 21st century.
There is a compelling engagement with atheism. The richness of Christian faith and hope is highlighted in stark contrast to the vacuity of atheism. “The one who has hope lives differently; the one who hopes has been granted the gift of a new life.”
We need God, otherwise we remain without hope. Only the Infinite will suffice for us. This theme runs as a golden thread throughout the encyclical. At this time of year, and in all the seasons, we are reminded by Jesus as the Star of Christmas that “It is not the elemental spirits of the universe, the laws of matter, which ultimately govern the world, but a personal God governs the stars, that is, the universe; it is not the laws of matter and of evolution that have the final say, but reason, will, love – a Person.”
Material progress obviously “offers new possibilities for good, but it also opens up appalling possibilities for evil . . . Progress, in the wrong hands, can become and has indeed become a terrifying progress in evil.” If technical progress is not matched by corresponding progress in our ethical formation, in our inner growth, then it is not progress at all, but a threat for us and for the world. Reason must be open to the saving forces of faith. It is not science that redeems us; we are redeemed by love.
The Holy Father challenges us all as he writes of the mystery of suffering: “The true measure of humanity is essentially determined in relationship to suffering and to the sufferer. This holds true both for the individual and for society. A society unable to accept its suffering members and incapable of helping to share their suffering and to bear it inwardly through compassion is a cruel and inhuman society . . . To suffer with the other and for others; to suffer for the sake of truth and justice; to suffer out of love and in order to become a person who truly loves – these are fundamental elements of humanity.” This is the call of Christian humanism. Not to answer it is to destroy ourselves.
Eventually, “With death, our life-choice becomes definitive – our life stands before the judge.” It no longer matters what we once were in history, but only what we are in truth. Through our lives, though, we are continually to reach out towards Christ, towards truth, and towards love. “The judgment of God is hope, both because it is justice and because it is grace.”
Pope Benedict XVI devotes a telling section of the encyclical to “Prayer as a school for hope.” He cites the story of Cardinal Nguyen Van Thuan, a prisoner under Vietnamese Communist rule for 13 years, nine of them in solitary confinement. “In a situation of seemingly utter hopelessness, the fact that he could listen and speak to God became for him an increasing power of hope, which enabled him, after his release, to become for people all over the world a witness to hope – to that great hope which does not wane even in the nights of solitude.” The Pope goes on, “Cardinal Nguyen Van Thuan, in his book of spiritual exercises, tells us that during his life there were long periods when he was unable to pray and that he would hold fast to the texts of the Church’s prayer: the Our Father, the Hail Mary, and the prayers of the liturgy. Praying must always involve this intermingling of public and personal prayer.”
(On a personal note, I was privileged to meet Cardinal Van Thuan in 2000 and listen to his captivating – no pun intended – story. He explained that he celebrated Mass in prison using a small piece of bread and a thimble-full of wine. He had the prayers of the Mass memorized. A few days after his release, while riding in a car, he was stopped by a police officer, who handed him a piece of paper. He thought it might be another trumped up charge which would send him back to prison. It was not. It was an invitation to a meeting that night at 8. Though he was suspicious that it might be a trap, he went to the address, a building on a dark street. When he knocked at the door, a hand reached out and pulled him into the darkness. Another door was opened and there in bright lights were guards from the prison, along with their wives and children. The guards explained that they wanted their families to meet a great man, a man of prayer, a man of hope!)
This column can only reflect snippets of the encyclical, Spe Salvi. Careful and prayerful study will reveal a rich treasure of thought and hope. As we reflect these weeks on those with whom we have shared Christmas past and those with whom we celebrate now, our hope grows with new levels of meaning.
May our Christmas together be an even more evident revelation of God’s love in ourselves and in all whom we serve. I pray that you may be blessed with a truly Merry Christmas!
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