Readings for 6th Sunday of Easter: ACTS 8: 5-8; 14-17; PS 66: 1-7; 16, 26; I PT 3: 15-18; JN 14: 15-21
I'm presently in Michigan working hard on a book I'm writing about critical thinking.
Meanwhile, my wife, Peggy, is off in Cuba teaching a class of Berea College students there. So I've had lots of time to invest in my project. And I've nearly finished another draft.
This weekend, my sister, Mary, has come to our cottage in Canadian Lakes for a very welcome visit. Unfortunately, however, the weather has been cold and rainy. So we spent some time watching a startling Netflix series. It's called "The Keepers." It's a shocking account of an unsolved 1969 murder of a young Catholic nun in Baltimore.
Sister Cathy Cesnik, disappeared shortly after confronting authorities about widespread sexual abuse at the prestigious Keough High School, where she taught English. Two priests there used the confessional to identify young females who would be vulnerable to their sexual depredations. Eventually they ended up sharing their victims with school outsiders including police officials. The priests had become pimps who threatened their victims and their families with death if they revealed their abuse.
The young women were so traumatized that the priests' threats kept them silent for years.
Finally, however, some of Sr. Cathy's former students decided to investigate her murder. One thing led to another, and eventually more than 50 women came forward with their shocking tales which brought to light not only cover-ups by the Baltimore archdiocese, but that implicated the Baltimore Police Department as well.
The story with its cynical use of religion to exploit innocent children led to long conversations with my sister about our Catholic backgrounds, about our own experiences in Catholic schools, about confession, and church teachings in general. We found ourselves sympathizing with those (including close friends and relatives) who have left the church as irredeemably corrupt. No wonder, we agreed, that "former Catholics" represent the second largest religious "denomination" in the country (with 22.8 million), behind members of the official Catholic Church at 68.1 million.
Yet, as human beings, those people (all of us) retain a spiritual hunger. So many former Catholics (and others) identify themselves as "spiritual, but not religious."
Today's liturgy of the word gives us an idea of what that identification might mean. They call us to realize the fact that the Spirit of Christ resides in everyone -- and in all of creation. It's not dependent on going to church, being a Catholic or even a Christian. Rather, it depends on simply opening our eyes and on waking up to the Spirit's presence everywhere, despite the self-induced sleep and blindness of "the world" -- and, I would add, despite the corruption of hypocritical churches.
And where does the Spirit reside? The answer is surprising. The Spirit of Christ is closer to us than our jugular vein. John the Evangelist has Jesus say as much in today's Gospel reading. Listen to the description again for the first time.
- I am in the Father.
- You are in me.
- I am in you.
Could anyone be clearer about it? We are all temples. Our bodies, not buildings are the churches that matter. There is nothing in Jesus' teaching about confession, ritual, priests, doctrine. It's simply about opening our eyes and embracing the truth that God's Spirit is like the very air we breathe. It's like Paul will later say in his Areopagus speech about the "Unknown God" (Acts 17:28): Everyone lives and moves and has being in God's Spirit.
Recognizing that and acting accordingly is what spirituality (vs. religion) is about. As Jesus says in today's Gospel, such recognition will have us keeping his commandments: to love God wholeheartedly and our neighbor as ourselves. And, of course, loving our neighbors as our self does not mean loving them as much as we love ourselves. It means loving them because they are our self -- the Self that is one with God. Put more simply: All of us are one. That's the essence of Jesus' teaching.
But that recognition can happen only if we become holy in the sense indicated in today's first reading. There Philip (and later Peter and John) invoked Christ's Spirit on Samaritans -- the traditional enemies of Jews. Significantly, the apostles do so while laying hands on the Samaritans' heads. Their action symbolically brings together the left and right sides of the brains of those they touch. The ritual shows that experiencing the Spirit calls not just for logic, but for intuition as well. The Spirit is the one who makes us whole, not simply right or left-brain dominant. "Holiness" means wholeness in that sense -- integrating what we know logically and by intuition.
That's what spirituality means!