Note: To participate in the "study" pillar of Dominican life, the St Martin de Pores chapter (Austin) of Lay Dominicans in the Southern (US) Province is currently reading Fr George Montague's Holy Spirit, Make your Home in Me one chapter at a time, with one member presenting a reflection of the chapter during the meeting. This last meeting was my turn to present, and the chapter was titled Abba. Here then is my reflection.

We are studying a book about the Holy Spirit, yet this reflection is about Abba, the Father. The two are distinct Persons of the Trinity, so the first questions which I asked myself before beginning this meditation is this: why, in a book about the Holy Spirit, are we reading a chapter by the title of Abba? Seeing that the next chapter is given the title Jesus, my curiosity was piqued further.

Note: This is the second of a set of Lenten reflections on the heresies which have fought against and been fought by the Church. The first one can be read here

“For such false apostles are deceitful workmen, transforming themselves into the apostles of Christ. And no wonder: for Satan himself transformeth himself into an angel of light. Therefore it is no great thing if his ministers be transformed as the ministers of justice, whose end shall be according to their works” ( 2 Corinthians 11:13-15)

Saint Paul warned the early Christian community in Corinth to be on guard against the wiles of the devil. Though many signs and miracles would be performed in the name of Christ, so too would there be signs performed which were not in His name. Such signs could seem to be under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, and to point those who saw them to God; yet the Devil himself was once an angel of light, and so he can disguise himself as such. Similarly can he work some types of miracle through those who follow him, in order to dupe the faithful and lure them away from the Faith.

A leap and a double back-flip,
Then a handstand and a shake of the hip--
With grace and poise the gymnast performed
Her balance-beam routine.

She lowers to the narrow beam,
And as she moves it does not seem
To casual observers and weekend spectators,
That she must exert much effort.

The beam appears suddenly much wider,
And she seems to shrink and become lighter,
Sch is the illusion presented to onlookers
Who are awed b her great skill.

Yet the balance beam itself is no less
Narrow, though she will confess,
That it seems easier only because of training:

"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by him: and without him was made nothing that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. And the light shineth in darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it....And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, (and we saw his glory, the glory as it were of the only begotten of the Father,) full of grace and truth" (John 1:1-5, 14).

If Pride is the first sin, then Gnosticism was the first rebellion. We have little record of that fateful spiritual battle waged in the heavens in the dawn before time; we know nothing more than what has been revealed, and that is itself scarce. We know that one of the greatest amongst the angels--Lucifer, the bearer of light--was a proud creature who rebelled against his Creator. We know that the immediate result of this rebellion is that he and the other traitorous angels were cast out of heaven, out of the presence of God. Lucifer could not rule heaven, but would be made instead to govern hell.

There are several publications which I don't tend to read unless either I'm very bored or I've been sent a link. There's the ostensibly Catholic paper The Tablet (Britain's "Bitter Pill" as it's known around the orthodox Catholic regions of the Blogosphere), the ecumenical Sojourners' magazine, the Jesuit-run America magazine, and, of course, there is the National Catholic Reporter (excluding Mr John Allen, whose articles are often quite enlightening, to say the least). Yet, on occasion I find myself reading a linked article here, a facebook-shared article there. Occasionally, I am delightfully surprised, but more often I am reminded as to why I tend not to read these publications in the first place.

Thus, when a friend posted a link on facebook to an article about the "vocation crisis" in the National Catholic Reporter, I didn't hold my breath. I was expecting the article to be the amalgamation of several groups with perceived grievances against the Church, and I wasn't disappointed. That the article was written by Miss Jamie Manson, who happens to be a member of the national board of the Women's Ordination Conference is par for the course.

Allow me to sit but for a while longer,
Yes, to rest in this place for now,
Perhaps I’ll sleep the afternoon away,
For I have grown tired of my task.
Why labor now if the work can wait,
Or strive to finish today’s job
It I can do it on some later day—
It matters not if I do it tomorrow instead.
Help me to finish my chores today,
That’s a kind thing for you to do:
Oh, but tomorrow I will be gone,
I won’t be here to help you.
I don’t mind your working to help me,
So long as it remains only a favor,
Pleas don’t expect help from me,
For I won’t lift a finger for your sake.

"Men may keep a sort of level of good, but no man has ever been able to keep on one level of evil. That road goes down and down."
--G. K. Chesterton (The Innocence of Father Brown)

Professor J Budziszewski offers his own version of this quote (even citing the quote itself) in his books about the natural law philosophy. The good professor notes that just as no man can keep at a level of evil, neither can any society. We begin with our favorite sin--usually something specific like fornication or theft which is based upon something abstract such as lust or envy--and our refusal to repent of said sin. Yet, if we can't go through a normal and healthy repentance, we will be dragged through an abnormal, unhealthy form of repentance. Failing to confess the sin--and our guilt in it--we tell all of the sordid details about the sin, in gory detail. A simple sin seems to become an obsession--perhaps even a possessive one; but even having confessed every detail, even crying out "Peace, peace," we find that there is not peace to be had.

Come here and sit at my table,
What a splendidly grand time we’ll have:
My servants have set a feast before us,
A veritable banquet for us to enjoy!
Yes, pull up a chair now,
We’ll eat and drink and eat some more,
The wine and sherry will flow freely,
The boar will surely suffice for two.
We shall converse as we dine,
There will be plenty of both to be had,
For my preferences are simple:
Small talk over a large meal!
Though we chatter through the night,
And while I may seem to listen or reply,
No serious matters do we discuss:
For I don’t truly desire understanding.

Desires which well up inside,
Burning me as slowly they grow,
Now raging in my very soul,
Then consuming me with their fire,
Tempting—my guard is brushed aside—
A single coy look I cannot bear,
The wink of an eye or a long stare:
I will be overwhelmed with desire.
A dark and seductive voice calls me,
I strive to resist but want to give in,
My heart is crushed with this sin:
I don’t wish to listen to its call—
My consent is not entirely free—
It’s not fitting of my humanity,
But what appeal have I to dignity?
First I stumble, and then I fall.

A careless word of bad intent,
Gestures made from frustration,
Or a look betraying disdain—
These cause my mask to slip away.
My temperature seems to rise rapidly,
The blood in my arteries to boil,
My eyes becomes red as embers,
Complimenting the crimson hue of my face.
The hands by my side slowly contract,
Clenching into two tight fists,
They rise up to strike twin blows
As a scream escapes from pursed lips.
Contumacy leads to indignation,
My ego is bruised and swelling,
As I prepare to quarrel and fight,
My temper clouds my once bright mind.
A curse forms on my lips,