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FRIARS OF THE ORDER OF PREACHERS MASS OF THE JULY 31
Dear brothers and sisters, what do Ignatius of Loyola, the founder of the Society of Jesus, and Martin Luther, the German church reformer, have in common? There is a similarity, and this similarity was very important for the personal and spiritual development of St. Ignatius — as well as for Martin Luther. Ignatius — in his own words a conceited person who was army officer intent on fame and honour — was seriously wounded by a cannonball whilst defending the fortress of Pamplona in fifteen twenty-one. This occurrence, and the long time he spent recovering from his wounds, provided a decisive turning point in his life. He grappled with the facts about himself, his previous life and his faith, searching for a new meaning to life. After his recovery, he wanted to depart from Barcelona to go on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, but the harbour had to be closed to travellers due to the danger of plague, so he spent ten months in Manresa, near the Montserrat monastery. He referred to this time as his “early church”. He led a life of extreme penitence: with his begging, fasting, unkempt beard, long hair and poor clothes, he must have provided a pitiable picture. He thought to serve God best by being as strict as possible with himself and through extensive spiritual exercises; every day he spent seven hours on his knees in prayer. During this time, he was plagued by painful scruples: Have I really confessed ah my sins completely? Am I doing enough — in fasting, prayer and penance? “No-one was able to help me”, he wrote later. A spirituality which was dominant in the church at that time supported his scruples through both its demands and its threats of punishment. Behind ah this stood the fundamental questions, with which also his contemporary in Germany, Martin Luther, was wrestling:
Let us spring across to Rome. Several years earlier — in fifteen twelve — Michelangelo, the Italian sculptor, had painted his masterpiece, the seven days of creation, with its unconventional artistic design, on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Michelangelo is pursuing in this way the fundamental question: How is man seen by God? You have ah been provided with a detail from this painting: the creation of Adam. First of alI, I should like to draw your attention the to the right hand side of the picture: to God the Father, wearing a white robe, who is, in a gentle gesture, almost touching Adam’s hand with his outstretched arm. We know of other depictions of God from the early renaissance period and from the Middle Ages: royally enthroned, in majesty, clad with the insignia of power. En contrast, Michelangelo has depicted the person of the creator as physically powerful and vigorous: as if he is flying in on a storm wind, he divides light and darkness, water and land with powerful and masterful gestures. In our picture, we can literally deduce from the powerful figure of God, with what naturalness the work of creation succeeded: not playfully, but deliberately, specifically, on purpose and full of concentration. The picture relies on a double tension: On the right-hand side is the powerful figure of God, and his beard and hair are thrown back as if in a head wind and on the left-hand side the figure of Adam, in a corporeity which is already abounding with life, but which is lying on the ground and seems still somewhat feeble. His hand is hanging down — and also the sign of his potency also does not seem to fit with the huge figure. God is looking at Adam — in a way, so it seems to me, that is questioning and challenging — and he is stretching out to him with the finger of his hand in this unbelievably gentle gesture as if he wants to say “You are meant to be”. Jean Vanier, the founder of L’Arche, wrote that he once asked a disabled person: “Do you like praying?” ”Yes”, he replied. “And what do you do when you pray?” “I listen” was the reply. “And what does God say to you?” “He says to me: ‘You are my beloved son.” Perhaps that is what Michelangelo’s Adam experiences in this silent dialogue: “You are my beloved son.” As human beings, we are not a product of chance. Rather, each and every one of us is meant to be by God and is seen as such by him. Elie Wiesel, the Jewish theologian, said it in this way:“The roots of our existence go back into the depth of God’s memory”. God wants us to live, each and every one of us. We are close to his heart. Not as the saints that we could be, but as the sinners that we are. So he has written our names in the palm of his hand. It seems as if Michelangelo’s Adam wants to stand up. The muscles are tensing, as if the sight of God raises him, so that he will be able to stand upright before God’s countenance. God does not want human beings to be little and on the ground. Before God’s countenance there is life, trust and assurance. For that reason, we can detect no fear in Adam’s face or in his figure, in this silent but eloquent dialogue. Rather, perhaps a questioning amazement. Michelangelo’s Adam is, like many of his figures, naked. In this context, nakedness is nothing to be ashamed about. As it says in Psalm 139:“Lord, you examine me and know me, you know when I sit, when I rise, you understand my thoughts from afar. You watch when I walk or Ile down, you know every detail of my conduct.” These words do not sound threatening and do not make us think of George OrwelI’s “big brother is watching you”. We do not need to hide anything from God, because God knows us and because he has said “yes” to us. Undisguised like Adam, we can show him those things in which we are big and strong, but also those things in which we seem little and puny and where we fail. What a liberation and redemption lies in this idea. Before God’s countenance there is life. That is a good message for the “praedicatores gratiae”, the preachers of the grace and mercy of God, in the succession of Saint Dominic. But what about Ignatius? Ignatius later wrote that he was personally instructed by God in Manresa, and God led him in this way to a new, liberating and redeeming overall view of the faith, and healed him from his scruples God, who is powerful in his whole creation, gives us fellowship with him through the incarnation of his Son So we don’t have to achieve God’s grace in an arduous way, but it is the starting point of everything. And so it stands in simple words above the entrance to the church in our vicariate in Chiatung on Taiwan, written in Chinese symbols: “Bathe in God’s grace”. |
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Capítulo General 2007 - ORDEN DE PREDICADORES |
