In commenting on the doctrine that the Christian community is the body of Christ in the world, Bernard Cooke in his book “The God of Space and Time” uses as an analogy our human bodies. He points out that just as a man and woman in marriage “become one flesh,” Christ and his Church become one body.
Re-reading Bernard Cooke’s “The God of Space and Time” has been an especially enjoyable experience for me.
I have a habit. How long have I had it? I am not certain. Did it start when I began to teach philosophy many years ago? I don’t think so because I can now recall having the habit even when I was a seminarian studying for the priesthood.
Many memories have come back to me during the pandemic. Some of these memories have been wonderful, some not so wonderful.
During the pandemic, all sorts of memories came back to me, some wonderful, some very sad. I received at least one important insight into myself. Often I am in high gear, involved with many projects, pressured to keep a number of commitments, trying to meet various deadlines. What I have discovered about myself is that I easily tend to be impatient. And I mean easily.
I have been thinking about last week’s column that was devoted to the idea that the actions that a person performs reveal the identity of that person and also help to form and shape the identity of the person acting. The deeper the action, the deeper the effect. A vow has tremendous power to influence the lie of the person who makes the vow.
As I have mentioned previously in some of these columns, for much of my adult life I have tried to achieve some kind of unity, tried to allow what I believe to influence my reading, my research, my writing, my teaching, my preaching, even my recreating. In my case this has taken almost a lifetime of effort.
Often while discussing love and hate in philosophy classes at St. John’s University, I try to provoke a discussion by posing questions about what hating does to the person hating and what loving does to the person loving.
I cannot remember when I began to think of the enormous mystery that Divine Providence is. It is one of the truly amazing Christian Mysteries. Was it when I was in high school? College? The Seminary? After I was ordained a priest? I just cannot recall, but whenever it was the wonder and awe and gratitude still accompany my contemplation of it.
Writing last week’s column on culture and religious faith reminded me of one of the most successful and enjoyable parish activities I was involved in many years ago when I was a parish priest at St. Finbar’s parish in Bensonhurst.