As some of you might know,
in my life outside of the Cathedral
I am a professor of theology at Loyola University.
And what I do as a professor of theology
is not simply to make students learn
the content of Christian faith and practice—
doctrines, history, rituals, moral teachings—
but also to help them think through the Christian faith,
to show them how reason can illuminate
the doctrines, history, rituals,
and moral teachings of Christianity.
I try to get them to see how
the extraordinary claims of the Christian faith
can be understood in a way that fits
with our ordinary way of reasoning about the world,
so that the faith is not seen as something
that you need to kill your intellect
in order to embrace.
in my life outside of the Cathedral
I am a professor of theology at Loyola University.
And what I do as a professor of theology
is not simply to make students learn
the content of Christian faith and practice—
doctrines, history, rituals, moral teachings—
but also to help them think through the Christian faith,
to show them how reason can illuminate
the doctrines, history, rituals,
and moral teachings of Christianity.
I try to get them to see how
the extraordinary claims of the Christian faith
can be understood in a way that fits
with our ordinary way of reasoning about the world,
so that the faith is not seen as something
that you need to kill your intellect
in order to embrace.
And I think this is a pretty worthwhile endeavor.
One of the glories of the Catholic approach to faith
is our insistence that faith and reason
are not opposed to one another,
and that we number among our saints
not only those who devoted themselves to prayer
or to serving the bodily needs of their neighbor
but also those who devoted themselves
to the life of the mind,
scholar-saints like Augustine, or Thomas Aquinas,
or the philosopher and Carmelite nun Edith Stein,
better known as St. Theresa Benedicta of the Cross.
These saints show us that thinking and holiness
are not opposed to each other,
that indeed thinking rigorously about the faith
can be its own sort of path to holiness.
These scholar-saints show us the value
of applying the same mind that we use
to grasp a mathematical proof
or the laws of physical motion
or the psychology of human behavior
to the mysteries of the Christian faith.
They show us that the power of thought
that we use to think about mundane realities,
can, by God’s grace, help us to better grasp
supernatural truths.
One of the glories of the Catholic approach to faith
is our insistence that faith and reason
are not opposed to one another,
and that we number among our saints
not only those who devoted themselves to prayer
or to serving the bodily needs of their neighbor
but also those who devoted themselves
to the life of the mind,
scholar-saints like Augustine, or Thomas Aquinas,
or the philosopher and Carmelite nun Edith Stein,
better known as St. Theresa Benedicta of the Cross.
These saints show us that thinking and holiness
are not opposed to each other,
that indeed thinking rigorously about the faith
can be its own sort of path to holiness.
These scholar-saints show us the value
of applying the same mind that we use
to grasp a mathematical proof
or the laws of physical motion
or the psychology of human behavior
to the mysteries of the Christian faith.
They show us that the power of thought
that we use to think about mundane realities,
can, by God’s grace, help us to better grasp
supernatural truths.
But, at the end of the day, all our efforts
to understand the heart of Christianity
can only take us up to the edge of faith,
so that we peer over into an abyss
that human reason cannot fathom.
All our efforts at explanation
run up against the reality that
in Jesus—in his words and actions—
we are confronted with the very mystery of God,
a mystery that cannot be “solved,”
cannot be explained,
but must be embraced by the light of faith,
a light so dazzling that it looks like darkness
to our ordinary ways of thinking.
to understand the heart of Christianity
can only take us up to the edge of faith,
so that we peer over into an abyss
that human reason cannot fathom.
All our efforts at explanation
run up against the reality that
in Jesus—in his words and actions—
we are confronted with the very mystery of God,
a mystery that cannot be “solved,”
cannot be explained,
but must be embraced by the light of faith,
a light so dazzling that it looks like darkness
to our ordinary ways of thinking.
In our Gospel today we hear stated
with absolute clarity and precision
the mystery that lies at the heart of our faith:
“unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies,
it remains just a grain of wheat;
but if it dies, it produces much fruit.”
As the hour of Jesus approaches,
the hour in which he will be
lifted up from the earth
on the wood of the cross
so as to draw all people to himself,
he reveals to his followers the mystery:
our life can bear no fruit
except through death;
the life that seeks
to preserve itself at all cost
remains a sterile, fruitless life.
And from this fundamental mystery
of life gained through death
further paradoxes pour forth:
if you love your life you will lose it,
but if you hate your life you will find it;
the world’s condemnation of Jesus
is God’s judgment passed on the world;
the shame of the cross is the glory of Christ.
These are words that scandalize our reason
and over which our attempts at explanation stumble;
these are words that dazzle and blind our minds
but through the grace of faith enflame our hearts.
with absolute clarity and precision
the mystery that lies at the heart of our faith:
“unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies,
it remains just a grain of wheat;
but if it dies, it produces much fruit.”
As the hour of Jesus approaches,
the hour in which he will be
lifted up from the earth
on the wood of the cross
so as to draw all people to himself,
he reveals to his followers the mystery:
our life can bear no fruit
except through death;
the life that seeks
to preserve itself at all cost
remains a sterile, fruitless life.
And from this fundamental mystery
of life gained through death
further paradoxes pour forth:
if you love your life you will lose it,
but if you hate your life you will find it;
the world’s condemnation of Jesus
is God’s judgment passed on the world;
the shame of the cross is the glory of Christ.
These are words that scandalize our reason
and over which our attempts at explanation stumble;
these are words that dazzle and blind our minds
but through the grace of faith enflame our hearts.
Let me be clear:
I am not saying that we should not apply our minds
in order to understand our faith as much as possible.
Stupidity is not a virtue,
and we should work as diligently
to understand the doctrines, history, rituals,
and moral teachings of the Church
as we do to understand
the natural world or human behavior.
After all, God gave us our minds
and expects us to use them
to ponder God’s mysteries.
But, as all of the great scholar-saints
of the Catholic tradition knew,
our understanding can only take us
to the edge of mystery
and it is love that must peer over that edge
into the depths of God.
The mystery of life through death
of which Jesus speaks in today’s Gospel
applies in a certain way
to the life of the mind as well.
We may not have to kill our intellects
in order to be believers,
but when we have exhausted our minds
in pursuit of God,
we must then plant them in the soil of love
so that, dying, they can bear fruit.
in order to understand our faith as much as possible.
Stupidity is not a virtue,
and we should work as diligently
to understand the doctrines, history, rituals,
and moral teachings of the Church
as we do to understand
the natural world or human behavior.
After all, God gave us our minds
and expects us to use them
to ponder God’s mysteries.
But, as all of the great scholar-saints
of the Catholic tradition knew,
our understanding can only take us
to the edge of mystery
and it is love that must peer over that edge
into the depths of God.
The mystery of life through death
of which Jesus speaks in today’s Gospel
applies in a certain way
to the life of the mind as well.
We may not have to kill our intellects
in order to be believers,
but when we have exhausted our minds
in pursuit of God,
we must then plant them in the soil of love
so that, dying, they can bear fruit.
As we prepare to celebrate
the great mysteries of our faith
in the coming days of Holy Week and Easter,
as we prepare to ponder Christ’s passing over
from death to life,
let us pay heed to the words
of another great scholar-saint, St. Bonaventure,
who bids us, once we have spent our minds
in seeking understanding:
“Let us then die and pass over into darkness;
let us impose silence on cares, desires, and images;
let us pass over with the crucified Christ
from this world to the Father.”
And may God have mercy on us all.
the great mysteries of our faith
in the coming days of Holy Week and Easter,
as we prepare to ponder Christ’s passing over
from death to life,
let us pay heed to the words
of another great scholar-saint, St. Bonaventure,
who bids us, once we have spent our minds
in seeking understanding:
“Let us then die and pass over into darkness;
let us impose silence on cares, desires, and images;
let us pass over with the crucified Christ
from this world to the Father.”
And may God have mercy on us all.
