Lex Cordis Caritas - The law of the heart is Love

Three years ago, on the Solemnity of Christ the King, Nov. 26, 2017, we concluded our fourth diocesan synod. Representatives from each of our 129 parishes voted overwhelmingly to declare that the “mission of the Roman Catholic Diocese of Springfield in Illinois is to build a fervent community of intentional and dedicated missionary disciples of the Risen Lord and steadfast stewards of God’s creation who seek to become saints. Accordingly, the community of Catholic faithful in this Diocese is committed to the discipleship and stewardship way of life as commanded by Christ Our Savior and as revealed by Sacred Scripture and Tradition.”

Death is an uncomfortable topic in our contemporary culture. We avoid talking about it and employ euphemisms to mask our discomfort. Rather than say someone has died, we say that he or she has “passed away.” Instead of wakes and funerals, people prefer to call such services a “celebration of life.” Cemeteries are renamed “memorial gardens.” There is nothing wrong with celebrating a person’s life or remembering them after they have died, but a theological and pastoral problem that emerges with such changes in terminology is that “celebrations of life,” “memorial gardens” and “memorial Masses” all look to the past. Christian burial practices, on the other hand, look to the future in anticipation of our bodily resurrection and eternal life.

As witnessed in recent Supreme Court nomination hearings, political opponents are not likely to be so courteous or deferential to Judge Amy Coney Barrett, nominated on Sept. 26 to replace Justice Ginsburg on our nation’s highest court. In particular, it will be unfortunate if she is attacked for her Catholic faith, as she was in the confirmation hearings in the U.S. Senate when she was nominated as a judge for the Seventh U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals, based in Chicago.

Terror on every side! These frightening words are from the prophet Jeremiah (Jer. 20:10, NABRE). Jeremiah served God during the reigns of Judah’s last kings. King and people sadly resisted Jeremiah’s life-giving message. The chapters of his book are filled with accounts of the verbal and physical attacks he had to endure. In spite of such dire circumstances, Jeremiah remains confident of God’s help, as he proclaims, “The Lord is with me, like a mighty champion” (Jer. 20:11).

Our fear to commit, our distaste for obligation, our unwillingness to surrender … all of those things come from a fear that we will lose love. And so, in the fullness of time, it is God himself who comes to our rescue, to promise definitively, forever, eternally, that his covenantal love for us will never end. He surrenders his freedom to incorporate ours into it. He offers his life so that we might live ours in him. He offers his love no matter the cost, and no matter the rejection, so that we might begin to trust again, and might slowly open our hearts again to our Heavenly Father.