Newspaper Page Text
March 8,1979
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Academic Learning And Spiritual Growth
BY FATHER AVERY DULLES, S.J.
Learning is good in its own order. The
more we know, the wider will be our horizons,
the deeper our insights and the more effective,
generally speaking, will be our plans and
actions. Through learning we make ourselves
more human, more responsible, more free from
prejudice and more useful to others.
wrote, “Not many of you were wise according
to worldly standards;” but faith more than
compensates for this deficiency, for “the
foolishness of God is wiser than men” (1
Corinthians 1:25-26). In Christ God has
exposed the emptiness of worldly wisdom.
And yet, as Paul himself frequently
insisted, there is a Christian wisdom which can
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God made us in his image and
likeness. And he gave us the kind of
intelligence that enables us to reason and
to come to know him. Since he gave us
these abilities, he expects us to use them.
The ultimate in learning is to
“comprehend the love of Christ, which
surpasses knowledge” (Ephesians
3:18-19). One does not need a college
education to possess this wisdom.
Theologians have combined
knowledge and spiritual growth. Such a
theologian was St. Augustine of Hippo.
He sought to understand the meaning and
purpose of human life, and the relation of
human persons to God. The first
characteristic of Augustine’s spirituality
and of that which he tried to teach to
others seems to have been the
understanding that a good life is founded
on contemplation. Over 15 centuries have
passed since Augustine lived, but we are
still learning from him today.
When Jesus stopped to teach the
5,000 who waited for him, he showed us
the value of teaching. And those who
listened were receptive to learning. So
interested were they in learning, and so
interested was -Jesus in teaching that the
hours passed unnoticed. It was growing
late and everyone was far from home.
Jesus took the small portions of fish and
bread and directed his disciples to pass
them out to the huge crowd.
Miraculously, there was enough for all
with some left over. Today, Jesus still
feeds us the most important food for
nourishment, the Eucharist. He will
always be with us through the Bread of
Life.
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Valuable though it is, learning is not
perfection. It increases our capacity to do harm
as well as good. Because knowledge is usually
achieved in solitude or in competition, the
pursuit of learning often makes people
self-centered. Those who claim to be learned
easily become proud of their supposed
accomplishments and disdainful of others.
Learned persons sometimes lose their common
sense; they become complicated and artificial.
By learning hastily and superficially, or by
studying things beyond their depth, people can
harm their minds. By thinking themselves wise
they can become stupid.
Christianity teaches us not to idolize
learning. Jesus himself did not pass for a
learned man. Mary and Joseph probably had
little education, and none of the 12 apostles
was a scholar. Of the early Christians Paul
greatly contribute to spiritual growth. Paul calls
upon his Corinthian converts to grow in that
knowledge and wisdom which are taught by the
Spirit of Christ (1 Corinthians 2:12-13). He
prays that the Ephesians may learn to
comprehend the love of Christ, which surpasses
knowledge (Ephesians 3:18-19). And he
exhorts the Colossians to achieve maturity and
wisdom by nourishing their minds on the
mystery of Christ (Colossians 1:28), in whom
are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and
knowledge (Colossians 2:3).
The wisdom of which Paul speaks does
not come simply out of books. It is accessible
to persons who lack a college education.
Nevertheless, many of the saints have combined
academic learning with sanctity. One thinks, for
example, of theologians such as Augustine,
Anselm, Bernard and Bonaventure. By
submitting totally to the light of revelation
they allowed their minds to be transformed and
penetrated by God’s love and grace.
Theology has been called the science of
the saints. Good theology is exactly that, but
many study theology without advancing in the
ways of the Spirit. They approach the mysteries
of faith without love and reverence. In some
cases they allow their own passions and
resentments to distort their perceptions, and by
arguing for their false positions they spread
confusion in the church. These aberrations,
however, are the exception rather than the rule.
They should not destroy our respect for
theology itself, which performs a valuable
service to the church.
Down through the ages the Catholic
Church has been deeply committed to the life
of the mind. Unlike some sectarian groups, the
church admits no real disagreement between
faith and intelligence, both of which are gifts
from the same God. The Catholic Church has
traditionally fostered learning and culture,
especially in its monasteries, schools, and
universities.
With legitimate pride, it looks back to its
role in the establishment of the great
universities of Europe and the Americas. With
continued zeal it seeks to promote education
on all levels today, so as to prevent the tragedy
of a divorce between revealed truth and human
learning. If the intellectual leaders of our
civilization reject the light of God’s eternal
word, our culture will inevitably decay. For this
reason the Fathers of the Second Vatican
Council sent a special greeting to men of
thought and science, reminding them that the
quest of truth is inseparable from the search for
him who could say, “I am the truth” (John
14:6).
The Christian, then, should avoid all
anti-intellectualism. The powers of the mind are
a gift from God, and by cultivating them we
may lead richer and more useful lives. By
keeping human culture in close harmony with
God’s word of revelation we may help to make
our civilization sound and secure. As we
reverently reflect on God’s word, we may
personally grow in faith and love, thus walking
in the footsteps of those Christian thinkers of
the past who allowed their minds to be
enlightened by the truth that is Christ. To
achieve its goal, theological speculation must at
every stage be sustained by prayerful adoration
and by interior union with God.
The Apostles And The Crowd: Feed The 5,000
BY FATHER JOHN J. CASTELOT
One of the most popular stories about
Jesus was the one which told of his multiplying
food to feed the crowd. It was treasured in the
early communities because it spoke to them not
just about something wonderful Jesus had done
during his earthly career, but, more
importantly, about something wonderful he
was doing now, in their lives as Christians. On
the basis of the one event, whatever it was, they
came up with six versions: Mark and Matthew
have two each; Luke and John have one apiece.
The element of interpretation in the
several accounts is so strong that it is impossible
to reconstruct the actual happening. The size of
the crowd, for instance, seems to have grown
with each telling of the story and consequently
varies from version to version (5,000 in Mark 6;
4,000 in Mark 8; 5,000 “not counting women
and children” in Matthew 14).
Evidently the Gospel writers were not
overly concerned about “what actually
happened.” Whether there were 5,000 or just
50, the meaning of the feeding was the same.
And it was the same whether there had been
five loaves, two fish and 12 baskets of leftovers
(Mark 6) or seven loaves, a few small fish and
seven baskets (Mark 8).
And that the second version in Mark 8 and
Matthew 15 is a new interpretation and not the
record of a distinct multiplication is indicated
by the fact that, in the second instance, the
question of the disciples: “How can anyone
give these people sufficient bread in this
deserted spot?” (Mark 8:4) would make no
sense if they had witnessed the feeding of 5,000
just a little while before.
Even though the evangelists wrote about
the historical Jesus, they were aware that this
same Jesus was now the risen Lord, not just
someone who had once lived decades ago, but
someone who was very much alive in their
communities, doing now on an even grander
scale, and very immediately, what he had done
for the people who experienced his physical
presence. “I solemnly assure you, the man who
has faith in me will do the works I do, and
greater far than these. Why? Because I go to the
Father” (John 14:12). With this awareness they
interpreted his time-bound activities in such a
way as to bring out their timeless significance.
Thus they told the story of the feeding of
the crowd in such a way as to proclaim that he
was still feeding people in the Eucharist
through the ministry of the church. The
emphasis throughout is on the loaves; the fish
are given only passing attention. Jesus’ action is
described in words strongly reminiscent of the
actual eucharistic liturgy: “Then taking the five
loaves and the two fish, Jesus raised his eyes to
heaven, pronounced a blessing, broke the loaves
and gave them to the disciples to distribute”
(Mark 6:41).
In fact, in John’s version, in place of
“pronounced a blessing” we read “gave
thanks”, which translates the Greek
“eucharistesas” (John 6:11). John has no actual
account of the institution of the Eucharist at
the Last Supper. Consequently he has Jesus,
not the disciples, distributing the food, just as
he did at the Supper; and he notes the nearness
of the Passover. In Mark 6 the disciples take the
initiative throughout, and Jesus’ command to
them was understood as directed not just to his
immediate followers, but to his disciples of all
times: “You give them something to eat” (Mark
6:37).
The story as told in Mark 6 is an
interpretation intended for Jewish Christians. It
is shot through with allusions to the Exodus,
with repeated references to the “desert” locale,
to Jesus as the shepherd of his people, making
them recline in green pastures (Mark 6:39;
Psalm 23). The people “had their fill,” just like
the Israelites who atp the Manna. (This Exodus
typology is made explicit in John 6). The 12
baskets of leftovers would have suggested to
them the 12 tribes of Israel. They were the
renewed “Israel of God” and the Good
Shepherd was still feeding them.
The interpretation in Mark 8 is quite
different. Here Jesus takes the initiative, the
Old Testament allusions are minimal, and even
the vocabulary suggests that this version was
directed to a gentile Christian community.
One feature that comes through in all six
accounts is Jesus’ motivation. In Mark 8, for
instance, we hear him say: “My heart is moved
with pity for the crowd. By now they have
been with me three days and have nothing to
eat. If I send them home hungry, they will
collapse on the way. Some of them have come a
great distance” (Mark 8:2-3). We are thus
reminded that Jesus was concerned not simply
with “souls,” but with people, and was sensitive
to ail their needs.
He responded to those needs, and he asks
his followers to do the same. Christianity
cannot be a “pie in the sky in the sweet
bye-and-bye” affair. His words still ring out
with insistent immediacy, as they did to the
first readers of the Gospels: “You give them
something to eat” (Mark 6:37).
“IN WRITING the account of
Jesus’ multiplication of the loaves and
fish, the evangelists are very much
aware that Jesus is now the risen
Lord,” Father John J. Castelot writes.
“Thus they told the story of the
feeding of the crowd in such a way as
to proclaim that he was still feeding
people in the Eucharist through the
ministry of the church. Jesus’ action is
described in words strongly reminiscent
of the actual Eucharistic liturgy: ‘Then
taking the five loaves and the two fish,
Jesus raised his eyes to heaven,
pronounced a blessing, broke the
loaves, and gave them to the disciples
to distribute’ (Mark 6, 41).” (NC
Sketch by Eric Smith)
“BECAUSE KNOWLEDGE is
usually achieved in solitude or in
competition,” Father Avery Dulles
writes, “the pursuit of learning often
makes people self-centered. Those who
claim to be learned easily become
proud of their supposed
accomplishments and disdainful of
others. Learned persons sometimes lose
their common sense; they become
complicated and artificial. By learning
hastily and superficially, or by studying
things beyond their depth, people can
harm their minds. By thinking
themselves wise they can become
stupid.” (NC Photo by Gerald Holly)
St, Augustine Of Hippo
BY MONIKA K. HELLWIG
Few spiritual writers have had as extensive
and deep and long-lasting an influence as
Augustine, Bishop of Hippo. There is a classic
quality about his person, his life experiences
and his writings. He is in a sense timeless
because it is so easy to identity with him.
He has told us a great deal about his
childhood and youth, the influences that
shaped him for good and for ill, his emotional
life, the development of his thought, the
unfolding of his spirituality, and even some of
the inner dimensions of his life of prayer and
contemplation. Many readers, young and old,
are still held spellbound by his autobiography,
“The Confessions of St. Augustine.”
For Augustine the understanding of the
meaning and purpose of human life, and of the
relation of human persons to God, always
begins with one’s own experience. Certainly
one reason that he is so helpful to us, more
than 15 centuries after his own life, is that he
lets us see in his writings how he reflected upon
his own experiences — his experience of nature,
of other people, of history and most of all of
his own inner life and struggles to see and to do
what was good and right.
The first characteristic of Augustine’s
spirituality and of that which he tried to teach
to others seems to have been the understanding
that a good life is founded on contemplation —
on cultivating a basically prayerful attitude in
everything. On the basis of his own experience,
Augustine tries to guide people into an attitude
of wonder, receptivity, gratitude for the gift of
existence, appreciation of the good, the
beautiful, the loving.
Sometimes readers think Augustine is
pessimistic about himself and human life. This
does not seem exactly on target. Augustine is
deeply conscious of sin and sinfulness and of
human reluctance to seek wholeheartedly after
what is true and beautiful and good. But this
springs from his overwhelming sense of the
holiness and goodness of God, and his deep
awareness of being graciously gifted by the love
of God, that is so full of surprises and
undreamed of new possibilities of happiness.
If one lives in the constant awareness of
God’s presence and goodness, as Augustine
appears to have done, one is bound to come to
the realization that the love of God is also very
exigent, calling us to grow so far beyond what
we think we are able to be and to do and
perhaps to endure. This exigence of God is a
favorite theme in the Old Testament. It appears
in the stories of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob,
Moses and the great prophets.
We know from Augustine’s homilies that
he had meditated much on these stories and
their message for Christians in his time. He
invites us to see these stories for what they are:
not entertainment for idle curiosity, not just
information about ancient history, but insight
and wisdom about the demanding questions in
our own lives.
Augustine lived in a time as confusing and
tragic and crisis-laden as our own. Although
Christians were no longer in constant fear of
persecution in the Western Empire in which he
lived, Augustine was constantly aware that to
be a Christian is a conflictual stance in the
world.
He wrote a long book entitled “The City
of God,” still available, in which he proposes to
us that human society and history are built
upon two sharply conflicting principles — the
love of self which builds the “city of man” that
always bears within it the seeds of its own
destruction, and the love of God, embracing
love of others, which builds the “city of God”
that is destined to stand in the end. It is not a
question of dividing the world with the good
people on one side and the bad ones on the
other, but rather of taking a critical stance
toward everything, always asking what is for
the love of God and what is only for the love of
self.
Seeing Christian life as sharply conflictual,
Augustine does not imagine that people who
are or become Christians will suddenly be
heroic. He thinks people should apply
themselves doggedly to the tedious task of
learning to live a moral life.
In a charming little book he provided for
the catechists of his diocese, “The First
Catechetical Instruction,” he tells the catechists
that in essence Christian life is simple, to love
God with a passion and one’s neighbor as
oneself, but that they should not mention this
until they have made sure that their
catechumens have learned and internalized the
Ten Commandments.
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KNOW
YOUR
FAITH
(All Articles Ori This Page
Copyrighted 1979 By N. C. News Service)