Vol. XXVIII                    No. 10

Dear Oblates and Friends of Portsmouth,

        The more we learn about the Jews of  Jesus' time, both those who believed in him like his disciples and those who rejected him like the Scribes and Pharisees,  the more we can find ourselves reflected in Jesus' friends and foes. Again and again in  the gospel accounts we hear each Sunday, whether they are parables Jesus taught or miracles he worked or moral lessons he preached, we can hear ourselves described and our own characters laid bare as if  he were speaking directly to us.  Show us a sign,  the people cried, and we will believe.   How much easier, we may think,  it would  be to accept  the more difficult  aspects of our faith if we had had the benefit of a miracle  or  if  we  could have walked literally in the footsteps of Christ. But  in fact  no amount  of  signs or miracles  can  strengthen our faith  or  effect change in us unless we  have the desire or willingness to be changed. Hardness of heart was the stumbling block of the Pharisees  and  to a greater or lesser degree  this same obstacle prevents us from becoming better in  our  commitment as disciples of Jesus.

        The author of the Book of Revelation berates the Laodiceans for their luke-warmness, for the fact that they are neither cold nor hot, but are content with a faith that allows them to lead a life of affluence and luxury while remaining deaf to the call to reform, to accept reproof, and follow the Way with greater concern for those in  need. The willingness to hearken to the advice,  i.e. to listen and act upon what we must do,  a desire to improve whatever the cost, and the humility to accept help when it is offered: these are the preconditions for conforming our lives to the demands of the gospel message.  This is exactly the same advice a doctor gives his patient when dealing with types of illness that depend on attitude before a cure can be effected.   Jesus is not only the teacher and guide for the way we live our lives,  but the healer of  the flaws  that distort  and sully  the characters of each of us in varying degrees.

        One of the physical diseases that seemed to abound in the ancient world was the skin malady referred to as leprosy, an  ailment that lends itself readily to metaphor for the spiritual.  Leprosy is a loathsome disease, causing the victim to be physically repulsive to others and  because of the risk of contamination, lepers are forced to live in isolation. The spectral figure, clad in flowing garments to conceal his disfigurement, ringing a bell of warning to anyone in the vicinity as he makes his way  through the countryside alone or in a group of fellow lepers, dependent entirely on the charity of  the few willing to give him help: this is the  stock description of  the  leper in the time of Jesus and in the middle ages, and its analogy to the  effect of sin is  compelling and effective.

        In the Old Testament  we remember the horrifying way  Miriam was punished for questioning Moses' authority. Only through Moses' intercession was she cured of the leprosy that had suddenly afflicted her.  A similar example can be found in the leprosy of the pagan general, Naaman of Aram, not a punishment but a means of revealing the power to cure given  to  Elijah by God, and exercised for the benefit of a non-Jew, a way of teaching  that salvation was not confined to the Jews but  was extended to pagans as well. Naaman  is cured and converted, convinced that the waters of the Jordan  were  more powerful than the sacred rivers of Damascus and that the God of Israel was the only God in all the earth. He  becomes a  figure linked to the spread of monotheism. For Christians, he bcomes  a foreshadowing of the universal acceptance of  Jesus as the Savior of all mankind, Jew and Gentile alike. 

        Leprosy also figures prominently in  the New Testament, most significantly in Jesus' cure of the ten lepers, only one of whom had the gratitude to return and give thanks to the one who had cured him.  The others did only what they were told to do: to show themselves to the priests  which demonstrated their obedience to the Law  and enabled them to  reenter society.  The leper who returned, however, showed not only his gratitude, but an appreciation of  Jesus' power, and as a result, believed in  him; the greater reward is his because of his faith; he has not only been cured of his disease, but his faith in Jesus has secured his salvation.  Like Naaman,  he has gained an incalculable gift  through  demonstrating  his belief in  the power and mercy of God. And also like Naaman, the Samaritan is a foreigner, who likewise foreshadows  the outreach that Christianity will have  once the Gospel can be proclaimed.  The  nine, who failed to acknowledge  Jesus by returning, prostrating and praising God,  lack the dispositions that enable them to be saved spiritually.  They did believe he could cure them of their physical disease, but they lacked the faith that would have brought them the salvation  that had been  bestowed upon  the Samaritan. 

        We can ask ourselves whether we would  have acted: like the  nine who thought only of obeying the law and show themselves to the priests, or rather like the grateful foreigner who returned to give thanks.   But it is not merely for his  gratitude that  Jesus commends him. It is the lesson of faith in Jesus' power to save, not merely to cure, that is emphasized.  The divine activity does not have to be an extraordinary manifestation like a miracle, a sign or a vision. It is  faith  in God that converts Naaman to a belief in the one true God of Zion; it is faith  in  Jesus that procures salvation for the Samaritan.

Edward the Confessor, King of England (1004 - 1066)

        A little over 1000 years ago, Saint Edward, known as the Confessor, the last of the Anglo-Saxon kings, was born, a man whose final years as king, were marked by a struggle for power between rival contenders for the throne, ending in the famous Norman Conquest  by  Edward's illegitimate nephew, William of Normandy. Two things make his reign stand out: first,  his role in the Norman take-over of the court and the resulting influx of new, creative ideas and secondly, his responsibility  for reestablishing  the monastery of Westminster and rebuilding the abbey church in the new Romanesque style imported from Normandy. Nothing remains of this building, demolished under King Henry III except for the shrine of the Confessor. Henry replaced the church by the Gothic structure we see today, a building which remains at the center of national attention through the coronations and burial rites of  the British monarchs. Through the Poet's Corner it also provides a fitting scene to honor the great literary figures, beginning with Chaucer who was buried there and extending to our own time with such poets as T.S. Eliot and Gerard Manley Hopkins.  Only a few decades ago it was finally  thought appropriate to place a plaque on a wall  to remind the tourists who flock there, as if to a museum, that it was once the premier Benedictine abbey of England,  which had been suppressed by Queen Elizabeth I after a brief revival under her sister, Queen Mary.

        Edward's reign was not glorious or memorable  for anything he did  for England as a nation. That he was saintly, well intentioned and peace-loving was evident to all, and his cultus began even while he was alive because of his concern for the poor and his exercise of the royal touch to cure what became known as the King's Evil,  the skin disease of scrofula.  This power to heal such an ailment was associated with kingship and was invoked by subsequent kings until the Reformation. King James I, although brought up a Protestant, revived the practice as a means of demonstrating his theory of the divine right of kings, and this gift is alluded to in Shakespeare's play, Macbeth, written  especially for his patron, King James. In the play, the sanctity of Edward, living at the time of Macbeth, is contrasted with the diabolical character of a king who murders rather than heals, with  Prince Malcolm referring to the royal touch  as  a most miraculous work in this good  King, /Which often since my here-remain in England/ I have seen him do.....and 'tis spoken,/ To the succeeding royalty he leaves/ The healing benediction. Edward's impressive tomb remains almost intact behind the high altar, the one shrine spared by the despoilers of Henry VIII, although the tomb was stripped of its exterior  jewels  and ornaments. In sparing this monument, Henry was paying homage to royalty, not to the sanctity of his predecessor. 

Liturgical Calendar for October

                   (Cycle of Prayer: Young People, Prisoners and their Families; Victims of Terror and Natural Disaster)

September 30   SUNDAY XXVI OF THE YEAR

               Oblate Day of Recollection: Dom Damian

                    Topic:  The Psalms as Prayer

October  

1  St. Therese of Lisieux, Doctor of the Church

4    St. Francis of Assisi,  Founder

6    St. Bruno, Hermit, Founder of Carthusians

7    SUNDAY XXVII OF THE YEAR

9    SS. Adrian and Denis, Martyrs

12  St. Wilfrid, Bishop

13  St. Edward the Confessor, King

14  SUNDAY XXVIII OF THE YEAR

15  St. Teresa of Avila,  Doctor of the Church

17  St. Ignatius of Antioch, Bishop & Martyr

18  St. Luke,  Evangelist

19  St. Philip Howard, Martyr

      North American Martyrs: Isaac Jogues & Comps.

21  SUNDAY  XXIX OF THE YEAR

   Oblate Day of Recollection: Dom Julian

           Topic:  Community

28  SUNDAY XXX  OF THE YEAR

31  All  Hallows Eve