Fr. Romano Guardini: Four Meditations from The Lord
June 3, 2009
- Fr. Romano Guardini
Just over forty years ago, Romano Guardini (1885-1968) died in Munich. In her biography of him, Hanna-Barbara Gerl called the Italian-German philosopher and theologian “a father of the 20th-century Church.” Guardini’s books nourished the most lively segment of Catholic thought during the 1900′s. And one of his students was special – he’s the current pope. When he was a student not much over the age of twenty, Joseph Ratzinger had the chance not only to read, but also to listen in person to the man he chose as his great “master.” As theologian, as cardinal, and also as pope, Ratzinger has repeatedly acknowledged in his books that he intends to proceed along the pathways opened by Guardini. In “Jesus of Nazareth,” he declares from the very first lines that he has in mind one of the classics by his master: “The Lord.” Here are four selections from that great work, part of a series listed under Scriptural Exegesis.
Baptism: A Spiritual Event
Jesus arrives at the Jordan, the profound experience of childhood and the long process of maturity behind him. He is fully aware of the stupendousness of the task before him and of the powers that rise to meet from the depths of his being. Yet his first gesture, first words are an expression of deep humility. No claims to special privileges; no: that may be the law for others, but not for me! He goes up to John and asks to be baptized. To demand baptism implies readiness to accept the word of the baptizer, to admit oneself a sinner, to do penance, and accept willingly all that God sends, however difficult. No wonder John is startled and tries to dissuade him! But Jesus quietly takes his place in line. He refuses to be an exception; voluntarily, he places himself within the law that is valid for all.
This humble descent to the human level was immediately answered by an outpouring from above. Since the fall of man (and the resultant corruption of nature — Romans 8:20-22) a barrier had separated us from the beatific presence of the omnipresent God in his heaven. For a moment this barrier was removed. While Jesus stood there praying, writes Luke, stressing that it was a spiritual event, an infinite encounter took place: the illimitable abundance of the divine Father streamed into the Son’s heart. Event “in the spirit” obviously; yet also an act as real, or more real, than any tangible reality.
The Holy Spirit lifts man beyond himself in order that he may experience God the Holy One and his love. We have already spoke n of the mystery of Jesus’ existence: he is the actual Son of God, bearer of the living godhead which streams though him, illuminating every cell of his being; yet he is also true man, like us in all things, sin excepted. In other words, he grows, he increases with the years in wisdom and grace, and not only in the eyes of the world, but also in the eyes of God… At this point the mystery deepens: Jesus is the Son of the Father. At all times “I am in the Father and the Father is in me.” (John 14: 11-12). Yet it is also said that he “comes” from the Father and will return to the Father, and what is still more baffling, upon the cross he cries out in an agony of forsakenness (Matthew 27:46).
Jesus’ every act is governed by the Father; hence the Spirit (through which the Lord was conceived and made man) is always with him, for it is the bond of love uniting Father and Son. Yet we read that the Holy Spirit “comes’ over Jesus, just as one day, sent forth from the Father, it will come to all whom Jesus calls his own. The intellect cannot cope with such paradoxes, though it somehow senses the reality beyond all reality, the truth beyond all truth. Precisely here lies the danger. The mind must never allow itself to be misled into seeming ‘comprehension,’ into facile sensations or phrases with nothing solid behind them. The whole problem is a mystery, the sacred mystery of the relationship of the triune God to his incarnate Son. We can never penetrate it, and the knowledge of this incapacity must dominate our every thought and statement concerning Jesus’ life.
The Father’s Will: Following The Logic Of God
Again and again Jesus speaks of his Father’s will. This paternal will is not to be understood as a fixed, preconceived program including everything that will ever occur in the course of time. Rather, it lives, takes shape in Jesus, directing him during the progress of events according to the need of the hour; The Father and his will are with him always, upholding, surrounding, fulfilling and urging him constantly on. Jesus, who stands alone in the world, is at home in this will; so much so that its fulfillment is “food” to him (John:4:34).
From time to time this volition condenses’ to a specific demand or will issues its precise instructions. It is to these that Jesus is referring when he speaks of his “hour”. This direct and intimate bond between the Father and Son is wonderful, but it is heavy too, and often inflicts severe pain. We are reminded of the conflict that is the prophet’s constant lot. He stands squarely in the turmoil of a daily life moved by necessity, pleasure and earthly values. Men desire to eat and drink; to live and possess; to work, create, reap honor and power. In a world of such desires, comprehensible to all, the prophet is necessarily a foreign body. He obeys a different logic, the logic of God: “For as the heavens are exalted above the earth, so are my ways exalted above your ways, and my thought above your thoughts.” (Isaiah 55:9).
Thus the prophet’s acts must seem folly, if not a source of actual danger to those about him (Jeremiah). He reacts to a different stimulus, that of the Spirit, wind that “blows where it will” (John 3:8) The sudden, inexplicable words and actions that it inspires must often seem arbitrary and senseless to those ‘outside’ that will.
If this is already so true of the prophets, how entirely true must it be of Jesus! John’s gospel is filled with references to the impression Jesus makes on the practical Pharisees and Sadducees. They are uneasy, shocked , indignant. They feel their order shaken and the safety of their people dangerously undermined. This alone explains that otherwise blasphemous passage: “Are we not right in saying that thou are a Samaritan, and hast a devil?” (John 8:48) — in other words, half pagan and at mercy of demonic forces.
A ray of light falls from hereupon that strange verse in Mark’s account (3:20-21): “And they came to the house, and again a crowd gathered so that they could not so much as take their food. But when his own people had heard of it, they went out to lay hold of him, for they said ‘He has gone mad.’ And the scribes who had come down from Jerusalem said, ‘He has Beelzebub,’ and, ‘By the prince of devils he casts out devils.’” Then follow the lines telling how his mother and brothers, alarmed, appear outside and call him.
From incidents such as these we sense something that holy, awful law under which Jesus stands; the deep , intimate, inexorable power that guides him, slashing like a sword into his daily life and into that of his loved ones, causing infinite pain to all. We feel the terrible loneliness about him and realize what it must have cost to believe in him and to follow him to the end.
And yet, the Father’s will is the Father’s love. Though his complete acceptance it, Jesus enters into the intimacy of God, where all things are luminous with his tenderness and power. This will is constantly forming directives for all needs as they present themselves.
Thus also here at the wedding-feast Jesus’ hour is to come. Mary is little daunted by her Son’s rebuke. She feels the approaching moment of decision and instructs the servants: “Do whatever he tells you.” Then it happens: water is transformed into choicest wine — symbol of the divine abundance which streams from above, waiting to find its way into human hearts.
Scandal
Mark notes that Jesus teaches as one “having authority not like the Scribes” and Luke points out that all “marveled the words of grace that came from his mouth.” Here ”grace” must be understood in its full Greek sense; simultaneously pure heavenly gift that came neither demanded nor forced, and loveliness, delicate, mobile beauty. The words amaze and delight his hearers with their power and charm. Yet swift as an adder, the objection strikes: “Is this not Joseph’s son?” Into the moment, luminous with the beauty and holiness of Jesus’ message, darts something malignant. It comes from the blackest, basest dregs of human nature. The Lord recognizes it at once: the enemy…
Here counter-revelation — revelation of scandal and hate. Outburst of man’s irritation against God and the essence of God: holiness. Scandal is a revolt against the living God. At the bottom of the human heart , side by side with the human longing for the eternal source and fulfillment of all things, lurks resistance to that source: elementary sin its lair. Seldom does it confront holiness openly; almost always it strikes at the bearer of holiness; at the prophet, the apostle, the saint, the confirmed believer. Such people do irritate. Something in us finds the very presence of one dedicated to God unbearable. We revolt against him, ‘justifying’ our distaste with his shortcomings (naturally, there are always shortcoming) or with his sins. How could such a person be the bearer of sanctity! Or perhaps it is only his weaknesses (which from our dour viewpoint of rejection immediately swell perniciously), or his eccentricities that are so maddening — nothing is more trying that the eccentricities of a saint! In short ,the fact that he is a human, finite being is too much to bear.
Jesus and Human Suffering
Jesus is not merely a great figure of charity with a boundless heart and tremendous capacity for service. He makes no attempt to track human suffering to the root in order to eradicate it. He is no social reformer fighting for a more just distribution of material wealth. The social reformer aims at lessening suffering; if possible at removing it. He tries to meet human needs in a practical manner: to prevent misfortune, to readjust conditions in order that happy, physically and spiritually healthy people inhabit the earth.
Once we see this clearly, we realize that for Jesus the problem is quite a different one. He sees the mystery of suffering much more profoundly — deep at the root-tip of human existence, and inseparable from sin and estrangement from God. He knows it to be the door in the soul that leads to God or at least can lead to him; result of sin but also means of purification and return.
This is obviously what is meant by his words about taking up the cross and following him (Matthew 16:24). Perhaps we come nearer to the truth when we say: Christ did not avoid pain, as we try to. He did not ignore it. He did not insulate himself from it. He received it into his heart. Sufferer himself and realist, he took people as he found them, with all their shortcomings. Voluntarily he shared their afflictions, their blame, their need.
Herein lies the immeasurable depth and breadth of Christ’s love. Its power is the triumphant power of truth in a love which seizes reality and lifts it out of itself. Jesus healing is divine healing; it reveals the Universal Healer and directs towards him. It is inseparable from faith. In Nazareth he is unable to work miracles because the people there do not believe. To force the supernatural upon them would be to destroy its intrinsic sense: the faith from which it springs.
