The Pilgrimage of Truth

Introduction

The liturgical now

The liturgical cycle begins with the Son’s descent to earth in the Advent-Christmas season. It continues with the Son’s ascent back to the Father in the Easter-Ascension season. It peaks now with the descent of the Holy Spirit on Pentecost. The Easter candle (symbol of Christ’s presence among us) is now blown out. Its prominence is downgraded to a less conspicuous spot near the baptismal font. There we will light it to witness the baptism of our little ones into Christ. Tomorrow we will return to Ordinary Time with its color green. We will coast along in Ordinary Time through the warm summer months until the 4^th of December this year, when we will enter into the Extraordinary Time of Advent in preparation for Christmas 2006.

After his resurrection, Jesus appeared here and there to his disciples for forty days. Then, promising them a fullness from on high, he ascended into heaven (Acts 1: 3; Lk 24: 50-52). So Ascension happens forty days after Easter, and that’s how we get Ascension Thursday. Pentecost (a Greek word meaning fifty) happens fifty days after Easter. Originally Pentecost was simply a Jewish feast which took place fifty days after Passover, when a devout Jew was expected to make a pilgrimage to the temple in Jerusalem to give thanks for the harvest.

The first Christian Pentecost

In Acts we read that when the harvest feast had come, Jews from all parts of the world descended upon Jerusalem. As the little band of believers was huddled together in one place, a mighty wind suddenly blew, and tongues of fire came to rest upon them, and they began to speak the many languages of all the visitors. This amazed some. Others thought the little group was drunk with wine. They were, indeed, drunk; they were drunk with the wine of the Holy Spirit. It was, indeed, a harvest feast for the little band of believers; they had just now abundantly harvested the Holy Spirit. And so a Jewish harvest feast became the great Christian feast of Pentecost.

The mission of the Holy Spirit?

Last Sunday we said that Christianity is a missionary religion. Christ chose twelve apostles and seventy two disciples and sent them forth on mission. Our baptism, we said, sends us also on mission. But what, we asked, is the mission on which we are sent? Are we sent to do something to people (make them Christian and baptize them), or are we sent to do something for them. Jesus sends his disciples forth saying, “Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers and cast out the demons” (Lk 6: 12-14; Mt 10: 1, 8).

Christianity is missionary from the very depths of its Trinitarian theology. The Father sends the Son on mission to earth. After finishing his mission the Son ascends back to the right hand of the Father, and from there both the Father and the Son send the Holy Spirit on mission. Today on the feast of Pentecost we ask what’s the mission on which the Holy Spirit is sent?

The sequence of Pentecost

A liturgical sequence is an ancient liturgical song. The present liturgy of the church has four of them: one for Easter, one for the feast of Corpus Christi, one for the feast of the Sorrowful Mother (September 14), and one for Pentecost. The sequence for Pentecost lists (in Latin, of course) a multifaceted mission for the Holy Spirit. Veni, Sancte Spiritus. Come, Holy Spirit. Lava quod est sordidum. Wash what is sordid. Riga quod est aridum. Water what is parched. Sana quod est saucium. Heal what is sick. Flecte quod est rigidum. Bend what is stiff. Fove quod est frigidum. Enkindle what is cold. Rege quod est devium. Rein in what has gone astray. That’s the sequence of Pentecost with its multifaceted mission of the Holy Spirit.

The gospel of Pentecost

The gospel for Pentecost singles out truth as the mission of the Holy Spirit. John, writing for the Greeks who were great philosophers and lovers of the truth, sprinkles his gospel generously with the word truth. He uses it 25 times in his gospel, while Mark and Luke use it only 3 times and Matthew only once. John calls the One whom the Father and Son will send “the Spirit of truth.” “When the Advocate comes whom I will send you from the Father, the Spirit of truth who proceeds from the Father …he will guide you into the full truth” (Jn 15: 26; 16:13).

Christian truth: you do it

Toward the end of John’s gospel Pilate asks Jesus, “What is truth?” That’s a question which has exercised me for a good half century, and it often gets me into trouble. Jesus never gave Pilate an answer. If Pilate would ask me what is truth, I’d tell him that there’s philosophical truth on the one hand and Christian truth on the other and the two aren’t identical. Philosophical truth is in your head. You discuss and debate it. You write it down in a book or in a creed like the Nicene Creed which proclaims that Jesus is “true God of true God, begotten not made, consubstantial with the Father.” At the end of the day, most of us don’t know what that philosophical expression means. The danger with the philosophical approach to truth is that you might put too much stock in the orthodox statement of religious truths and in the recitation of orthodox creeds.

On the other hand, I’d tell Pilate, there is Christian truth, and it is not in your head but in your heart. You don’t discuss and debate it. You don’t write it down in a book or a creed. That truth you do! St. John writes, “The one who does the truth comes into the light…” (Jn 3:21). That’s the truth which was in the heart, not the head, of Mother Theresa of Calcutta. She was, perhaps, the world’s worst theologian. Her heart believed the truth that every single human being was worth bothering about. She didn’t discuss or debate her truth; she did her truth. She went wordlessly through the city streets and picked up the dying whom everyone was passing by as not worth bothering about. By doing her truth she came into the light.

Christian truth: a journey

Another thing I’d tell Pilate is that truth is not a possession but a pilgrimage. It’s always an on-going journey, and it’s never a final point of arrival. You can never cry out,”Eureka! I’ve found it!” John’s gospel strikes the note of pilgrimage when he writes that the Advocate, the Spirit of truth, will come and guide you into the full truth” (Jn 16:13). He does not say, “He will guide you to the full truth but rather “he will guide you into the full truth.” That doesn’t sound like truth as a final point of arrival but as a never-ending journey towards it. The same note of truth as pilgrimage is struck in the prayer of the day: “Father of light, send your Spirit to open the horizons of our minds.” That’s a never-ending prayer because there’s always something we do not see.

Weakland’s pilgrimage of truth

Some years ago Archbishop Rembert Weakland held hearings with the women of the Archdiocese to hear out their stand on abortion. He was wondering whether there was something he wasn’t seeing. In his report after the sessions, he unequivocally upheld the Catholic teaching that abortion is immoral. He warned, however, that the anti-abortion movement is counterproductive when its focus is narrow, its tactics aggressive, and its rhetoric ugly and demeaning. Weakland also remarked that his hearings revealed how far apart the church's teaching prohibiting the use of birth control is from the views of some very conscientious women.

His session with pro choice people caused some displeasure from people here in town and from officials in the Vatican. When the Theology Faculty of the University of Fribourg, Switzerland, wished to confer an honorary degree on Weakland for his work on the US Bishops' pastoral letter concerning economics, the Vatican refused to approve the degree. The reason offered was that “his lack of clarity on abortion had confused the faithful.” Weakland was simply wondering whether there was something in this very volatile issue which he wasn’t seeing, and the only way to find out was to listen not to himself but to others. Weakland was praying the Pentecostal prayer: “Father of light, send your Spirit into my life to open the horizons of my mind because maybe there’s something I don’t see.”

With a bit of humor the Archbishop later remarked to another prelate how amusing it was that he should get his name in the New York Times twice in one year, both times for doing nothing! First for not talking but just listening and then for not receiving an honorary degree.

A padre’s pilgrimage of truth

Years ago a Brazilian priest who was studying sociology at Marquette stayed with us at St. Benedict’s. He is an intelligent man. He speaks a number of languages. He is especially a good human being. He has some of the Brazilian macho about him, and I recall how he spoke admiringly of the Gauchos—the great Brazilian cowboys. One day when we were talking about a mutual friend of ours who has three children who are gay, to my great surprise this padre asked, “I wonder whether there is something in this whole issue that I do not see?”

I marveled at this pilgrim of truth. Despite who he is, he didn’t have it all down pat; he wondered whether perhaps there was something he wasn’t seeing. He, too, was praying the Pentecostal prayer: “Father of light, send your Spirit into my life to open the horizons of my mind because maybe there’s something I don’t see.” That honest man didn’t merely ask the question and then drop it. He pursued it and found his answer.

Lake Jackson’s truth as possession

In order to escape the rigors of a Wisconsin winter, Simeon (my dog), Mamasita (my cat) and I head south to Alvin, Texas. This past winter I found myself a job in the Church of St. Michael the Archangel in Lake Jackson—a forty mile trek from Alvin. My first performance made some people unhappy. When I returned for a second Sunday the gospel was about Jesus making the apostles fishers of men. When I suggested solving the acute shortage of priests by ordaining married men and even women as fishers of men, that, indeed, made some very unhappy. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I was basically told that it was either their way or the highway, and I knew it had to be the highway back to Alvin never to return. I had hoped that by a gentle word and a responsible manner to set people asking whether there is something they don’t see and to set them praying the Pentecostal prayer: “Father of light, send your Spirit into our lives to open the horizons of our minds because maybe there’s something we don’t see.”

Presbyterians’ pilgrimage of truth

I did not know Mrs. Margaret Butter, though I do know her husband. He periodically attends weekday Mass here at Old St. Mary’s. Margaret was a pioneer CEO in Milwaukee. She was also a philanthropist and patron of the arts, especially of the Milwaukee Symphony. She died suddenly on the 28^th of August, 2004. Her son John is married to an ordained Presbyterian minister, the Rev. Sarah Sarchet Butter. She and I officiated at Margaret’s funeral in a cemetery chapel.

Rev. Sarah did the first reading from the Book of Proverbs which sings the praises of a woman who is a good mother, wife, and manager of her household. She read with great clarity and much feeling. At the final commendation the Rev. Sarah invited the crowd in the cemetery to draw near to the casket which was kissed by a consoling sun on a day filled with the feel of fall. She pulled everyone into a heartfelt final good-bye. I observed her attentively (and I also observed how everyone else was observing her attentively). And I wondered whether there is something we Catholic don’t see which Presbyterians do see in ordaining the Rev. Sarah? Somewhere along the way those Presbyterians prayed “Father of light, send your Spirit into our lives to open the horizons of our minds because maybe there’s something we don’t see.” (Footnote: Last Sunday the Rev. Sarah was here at mass with her husband, daughter and father-in-law, and it was heart-warming to break bread with them.)

Conclusion

Go forth as people of Pentecost

This isn’t a commercial for the ordination of women or for any of the other great issues which wrangle the church, like homosexuality, birth control, divorce, open communion and married clergy. This is a commercial for the Holy Spirit of Pentecost. When we, like Lake Jackson, have everything down pat and see everything there is to be seen in our church and in our home, then we have no need for the Holy Spirit of truth.

People like Archbishop Weakland and the macho padre from Brazil and the Presbyterians, who wonder whether there’s something they don’t see as they wrangle about great issues in the church, are Pentecostal people who cry out to the Holy Spirit of truth. And we, too, are Pentecostal people when we wonder whether there is something we don’t see as we address issues that wrangle not only our church but also our home. The Ite Missa est, the dismissal of the Pentecostal Mass today, sends the church in Rome, the church in Lake Jackson, the church here at Old St. Mary’s, and you and me to go forth as Pentecostal people in need of the Holy Spirit of truth to open the horizons of our minds.