Lay spirituality

THERE are yet many obstacles to be hurdled, yet many things to be done before we in general can have a good understanding, let alone live the very important role the laity plays in the Church and in the world.

At the moment, we don’t have to look far to see how gravely misunderstood the lay people are. They are largely seen as second-rate citizens if not pariahs in the Church, unavoidably immersed in the dirty mundane things of the world.

They are also regarded as some kind of accessories to the clergy. It would seem that their status only acquires a whiff of dignity when they act as assistants and servers to bishops and priests.

For them to have some semblance of goodness and holiness, they are expected to keep distance from the world as much as possible, if not to hate it. They are pressured to fit into a certain religious mentality, doing churchy chores, that tends to suffocate their true lay and secular character.

Whatever may be the causes of this sad phenomenon, the fact is crystal clear that we are still light-years away from the ideal insofar as the role of the laity in the Church and in the world is concerned.

The laity is supposed to be an integral and essential part of the Church. As such, they, like the bishops, priests, religious men and women, have the same calling to sanctity and to the apostolate in ways proper to their condition.

They should not feel nor should they be treated as if they are just a baggage in the Church, or merely a resource to be taken advantage of, as in being used as source for money, or treated as the clergy’s long arm.

They are as much the Church as bishops, priests and the religious are. They
are not merely in the Church, but the Church herself together with the clergy and the religious, lifted to her supernatural nature and intrinsically involved in her mission.

Another thing that should be made clear is that the Church is not just some human social structure. The Church is the people of God, the mystical body of Christ, communion with Christ and everybody else in Christ.

This sublime nature of the Church has to be understood and consciously and freely lived by all of us, depending on what role we play, whether as clergy, religious or lay.

In this tricky matter, we with God’s grace have to help one another. We should not reduce the Church as a social phenomenon, though it certainly has social manifestations. Its supernatural character should always be upheld and defended.

Though everyone has different duties, everyone should also realize, whether clergy, religious or lay, that he forms an indivisibly organic unity with everybody else with Christ as head in the Holy Spirit.

We just have to learn to relate with one another properly, knowing how to keep the mutual need for one another, while avoiding confusion as in clericalizing the laity or laicizing the clergy.

There unfortunately are indications these irregularities are taking place in some areas. The Popes and the Vatican in general have issued guidelines in this regard. These should be religiously followed to avoid perverting the Church.

But what is most important is to vigorously promote what may be called as lay spirituality. This is the authentic lay empowerment many people are talking about. This equips lay people with the correct knowledge and appropriate ways to live their role in the Church and the world properly.

This lay spirituality can mean many things. For one it can mean having a right theology about the world in general, a right understanding of freedom and respect for the autonomy of temporal affairs, etc.

The link from the earthly to the sublime, the material to the spiritual, the temporal to the eternal, should be shown to be very practicable. Everyone, especially the lay people, should be assured of this reality.

The Church’s social doctrine and the more basic Christian anthropology are
indispensable in developing a true lay spirituality. There has to be massive and continuing catechesis about these truths.

Detachment

WE have to understand this virtue very well. It’s actually part of both the human and Christian virtues of temperance and poverty. We need to consciously develop it not only in ourselves. We need to help everybody else to mature in it.

Even from the human point of view, we cannot help but live it, at least partly. This often disregarded truth can easily be seen when we realize that everyday we make choices that unavoidably involve detachment from certain things, and even from certain persons.

For example, one with some medical condition has to detach himself from certain food, good in themselves but bad to him. One who is married surely has to see to it that his heart just does not fly off getting attached randomly to any other woman.

One, who trains for some competition, has to submit to a regimen that includes a special diet and a list of restrictions. An adherence to a certain discipline marks his life.

That’s the law that governs us. It should come to us quite naturally that if only for this reason we should take the appropriate effort to cultivate this attitude. We’ve been taught about this virtue since we were kids. It’s for our own good.

In developing and living this virtue of detachment, one experiences a certain lightness of feeling, a certain purification and liberation of the senses from unnecessary and even toxic things. It fosters self-mastery.

There’s a certain focus of attention involved in it, an aiming at a specific goal. It is a sure sign that one is progressing, since growth involves not only acquiring certain elements, but also discarding things.

But for those of us who adhere to Christian faith, we know that this virtue
is even more necessary because, firstly, our Lord said so. “What does it a profit a man if he gains the whole world but loses his own soul?” (Mt 16,26)

Or if you want to be more radical, hear this from our Lord: “If any man comes to me, and does not hate his father, mother, wife, and children, and brothers and sister, and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple.” (Lk 14,26)

Detachment in this moral and spiritual level makes sure that our heart is directed to its ultimate goal, which is nothing less than supernatural. And this is union with God. We should not forget this very important dimension in our life. We are meant for this.

Detachment purifies our body, and preps and conforms it to our spiritual needs. If we want to meet the requirements of our spiritual nature and supernatural calling, we can not avoid having to live detachment.

Our Lord said: “My son, give me your heart.” (Prov 23,26) Besides, Jesus
himself said that the first commandment is “to love the Lord your God your whole heart, and with your whole soul, and with your whole mind.” (Mt 22,37)

There is a certain exclusivity in this kind of love that necessarily entails detaching oneself from other things. But it is an exclusivity that gives us a universal heart, allowing us to love everything else properly, that is, in truth, in their proper order.

To attain this goal in our life, one that is spiritual and supernatural, we will always realize that a continuing process of self-denial and of detachment from the material and temporal elements of the world is necessary.

To those with the Christian view of life, this process is never considered
a loss but rather a gain, not a stunting of one’s growth but rather enhancing it. It does not make one sad but rather happy. It makes sacrifice a touchstone of love.

This is what is meant by the gospel term of circumcision of the heart.

The saints and all who try to pursue holiness look forward to every occasion to practice detachment in whatever form it comes, whether physical, economic and social, then moral, and even spiritual.

We have to outgrow the mentality that consists of thinking there can be a
time or stage in our life when we can freed from having to live detachment.

The saint of the ordinary

WE have just celebrated the 5th anniversary of the canonization of Opus Dei founder, St. Josemaria Escriva (1902-1975).

October 6, 2002 saw St. Peter’s Square overflowing with people who came
from all over the world to witness the late Pope John Paul II raise St. Josemaria to the altars. They were all happy to take part in that historical event.

The aging Pope, thoroughly acquainted with the life and works of the saint,
described him as the “saint of the ordinary.”

This obviously was in reference to St. Josemaria’s constant preaching that
all ordinary activities in one’s life, be it at home or in work, can be a way to heaven if done with love for God and for souls.

In other words, if one stays focused on God and does everything to keep that focus, in season or out of season, in the mood or out of it, he is likely to have the proper focus on everything and on everybody else as well.

In the mind of St. Josemaria, love for God does not take one away from the
world, but rather deepens his concern for the world and for all men.

An iconic statement of the saint was one he preached in a homily in 1967:
“There is something holy, something divine hidden in the most ordinary situations, and it is up to each one of you to discover it.”

Such words hit the nail on the head in moving people from all over to try
to be consistent to their faith not only during extraordinary events, but most especially in the ordinary flow of their daily life.

With such preaching, certainly divinely inspired, St. Josemaria captured
the deepest longing of people’s hearts. In spite of our limitations and mistakes, we cannot deny the primal truth of such assertion.

It also answered the Church call for all to blend our faith with our life itself, bridging the all-too-familiar gap between the two. It was a very ambitious preaching, prone to be interpreted as exaggerated and gratuitous.

St. Josemaria’s words were not just theoretical, theological or abstract. They were all lived words, derived from actual experience, strong, vital and forceful, capable of stirring people to action.

They were a result of his constant efforts to fulfill the will of God no matter what it took. Not his failing health, nor the tremendous difficulties material, spiritual, juridical, etc., let alone the nasty campaigns to bash him, Opus Dei and the Church stopped him from generously giving himself to God’s designs.

He was accused of being a heretic, a fanatic, of trying to control Spanish
if not world politics and business, and even the Vatican itself. Now, all these look very funny. But at that time, it was real, red-hot drama.

He faced all these with serenity, defending himself with prayers and mortifications, and simply working away quietly. He was a dynamo of endless working.

He hardly spoke. He understood why he was misunderstood. Quick to forgive, he was magnanimous to those who wronged him. In the end, he proved to
all he was only doing God’s will, not his. He personified how good would sooner or later overcome evil.

With such character, it was not difficult for him to inspire others to be generous also with our Lord and with everybody else. His presence, his example, his teaching exuded such splendor of charity as to draw others to be generous as well.

He provoked conversions even among those who usually are considered as
hard cases. He motivated others to make all sorts of initiatives meant to help people materially and spiritually.

But he always insisted on sanctifying the ordinary things of life. He cautioned others of the lure for the extraordinary that could dilute their self-giving with subtle traces of self-love. Though imbued with an immense sense of peace and confidence, he stayed away from any show of triumphalism.

His main weapon, which he recommended to everyone, was prayer. It was
through prayer that he managed to be both in heaven and on earth. He told all to convert everything to prayer.