In Him All Things Hold Together

Recently, amidst all the chaos of the current times, the world looked up in amazement at the stellar first photographs from the James Webb Telescope, the farthest, sharpest images of the universe we have seen. The telescope’s images are expected to greatly advance the field of astronomy.

The telescope launched on Christmas Day last year, and its orbit is almost a million miles further out in the solar system than earth. Its mission to capture images of the first stars and light from the very beginning of the universe, to study galaxy and star formation, and to search for the origins of life.

Webb’s infrared technology allows it to find dimmer, cooler, and older objects than we have previously seen. Because the universe is expanding, as light travels, it becomes red-shifted. Webb’s technology is expected to be able to see as far back as just a few hundred million years after the Big Bang. The best of our technology seeks to know our origin, to see the past as clearly as possible.

The first released images were, well, other-worldly. And beautiful. It seems so impossible to adequately comprehend the vastness of the universe—the grandiose size of stars, the vast emptiness of space, the temporal distance that keeps us always looking in the past. The image above of the Carina Nebula, seen two weeks ago, is in reality how it looked 8,500 years ago; it just took that long for the light to reach here.

What are we to make of just grandeur? Some people look at the universe and feel so small on this tiny rock circling a small yellow star in a corner galaxy. And we are small. But not unimportant.

I see the beauty and vastness and grandeur of God’s creation. We focus on our world and ourselves, but his creation is so much bigger than just us. That doesn’t diminish our existence nor does it diminish the love his has for us. He created a universe full of galaxies and nebulas and black holes, and he cares for it so tenderly, so delicately, that he still knows every hair on my head.

Christ was there when those galaxies formed, when those stars first emitted light. Christ will be there when they burn out. The Christ at the beginning of the universe is the same one who walked the streets of Jerusalem 2,000 years ago and same we meet at every Mass now. The earthly, here-and-now is not so different from the vastness of space and all of time.

Go East, Young Woman

During a study abroad more than a decade ago, one of my assignments was to reflect on the difference between touring and travelling—intentions behind going somewhere and the ways once experiences that place. Are to you going to see a particular, popular thing, check it off your list, and go back home? Are you searching to learn more about an area, its people, its customs and open to being changed in the process? Are you a voyeur, a tourist, or a cosmopolitan traveler? It’s not wrong to merely be a tourist, but it’s good to know your intentions and biases when dropping into somewhere foreign. Are you there to be entertained, or are you willing to be changed by your experience?

As I prepare to travel again, the first time out of the country in years, I am reminding myself not to get caught up in the tourism of the places I’m headed, but I am not a tourist but a pilgrim.

I’ve been a pilgrim before, though I probably didn’t call myself that at the time. I’ve been pulled to religious places and gone with spiritual intentions. But this is the first trip fully labeled a pilgrimage, and it’s making me more conscious of insuring the distinction.

Pope Benedict XVI said this about pilgrimage: “To go on pilgrimage is not simply to visit a place to admire its treasures of nature, art or history. To go on pilgrimage really means to step out of ourselves in order to encounter God where he has revealed himself, where his grace has shone with particular splendour and produced rich fruits of conversion and holiness among those who believe.”

Christianity is a tactile faith. God physically became man to be with us. He lived at a specific time in specific places. He physically manifests in Eucharist. Matter matters. We want to touch, draw near. We hold onto relics and walk in the footsteps of those who walked the Christian journey before us.

In the fourth century, St. Helena travelled to Palestine to locate relics and locations related to Christ and the apostles. Recall that Jerusalem had been destroyed in 70; the Temple and other places Jesus would have been had been razed and new buildings had been put up. Helena had to research and inquire to determine where these holy places were (and then use her imperial power to knock down pagan/Roman buildings that had been built on those sites). Many of the churches commemorating specific events in Christ’s life in the Holy Land were built under her direction. Immediately, the Holy Land became a destination of pilgrimage for Christians with the means to travel. The Itinerarium Burdigalense ("Bordeaux Itinerary") was written by an anonymous pilgrim from Bordeaux, recounting a pilgrimage to Jerusalem in the years 333 and 334.

The earliest pilgrims were merely searching for historical facts, establishing the things and places the Bible told of and restoring that knowledge. But once those places were established, pilgrims journeyed there with a more spiritual goal—to experience the place, to be there. Jerusalem, Rome, and the churches established by the apostles are the most popular Christian pilgrimage destinations, but there are thousands of others. European pilgrimages rose in popularity when the Ottomans held control of the Holy Land. Pilgrims went seeking answers to specific problems, even in hopes that the pilgrimage would bring healing (like Lourdes today). One of the most popular books in early English, The Canterbury Tales, takes place as pilgrims travel together on pilgrimage to Canterbury, the most important cathedral in England.

Pilgrimage is not a requirement in Christianity like the haj is in Islam. God is omnipresent, and we can encounter him wherever. But, it is a tool that can help us connect to Christ, biblical figures, saints, etc. Be it Jerusalem or the Camino or the local cemetery on All Saints Day, what makes one a pilgrim is the intention. Pilgrimage can pull us out of our routines and comforts and draw our mind to God. The physical journey can aid our spiritual one. If we let it.

When the Church lost Her Power

In the first few centuries of Christianity, the faith spread rapidly throughout the Roman Empire and beyond, despite no institutional support and persecutions from Jews and Gentiles alike. Most of the apostles, and thus, bishops, were martyred, along with many, many of their followers. Yet still it grew. The Church began to form: writing down the Gospels, electing deacons, have new bishops succeed the apostles. Mass was held in private homes; converts were scrutinized before being given baptism. It was a dangerous, narrow path.

By 300, by some estimates, Christians accounted for around 10% of the Empire’s population: a notable minority. Most lived in the eastern part of the empire. In 301, Armenia, a kingdom within the Roman Empire, made Christianity its official religion. Emperor Constantine converted to Christianity and legalized the faith throughout the empire in 313. In 391, Emperor Theodosius I closed all the pagan temples and made Christianity (as defined at the First Nicaean Council) the official state religion.

And it’s been downhill ever since.

Maybe that’s a little overdramatic, but I do think the Church suffered a lost in the fourth century. By gaining worldly power, Church and empire became intertwined in a dangerous way that remains to be untangled. It was good Constantine converted (if only for his own soul), and it is good that the persecutions ceased and that Christians could worship freely. But when an emperor converts, that leads a lot of followers with political ambitions to convert too—they aren’t seeking the Messiah or struck by the message of Christ; they want to impress and hobnob with influential people. It's a real Faustus situation: gain the world but lose your soul

And for the next 1,200 years or so in Europe, the faith of ruler dictated the faith of the believers. One didn’t choose Christianity or sacrifice to gather for worship. The Church was not the refuge from the world; it was another worldly institution with land holdings and serfs and noble’s-sons-turned-bishop. The Church can’t be countercultural when it is the culture. And while the Protestant Reformation and Thirty Years’ War brought this to a violent head, it did not solve the issue. Yes, maybe now it the Lutheran Church or a Calvinist Church instead of just the Catholic Church. But it still behooved you to follow the church of the leader/state where you lived. Or suffer the consequences.

And many did suffer the consequences, choosing their conscience of how the faith should be over the imposing threats of a church who disagreed with them. The Church, which once was persecuted, with political power had become the persecutor. The Waldensians, Hussites, Antibaptists, and other rejected a political church and were persecuted.

Here and now, persecution isn’t really the danger it once was. But the Church has had a hard time letting go of political power. After all, surely we can use that power for good, right? Isn’t it important that we Christians have a voice in shaping the laws of our country, to ensure that we live in a moral society? And there are certainly debates to be had how where that line is, especially in a country when individuals have a vote and must use make political decisions without compromising their morals. But I think the less the Church compromises her morals, the better. Better to be powerless Church, without tax incentives or legal schools or lobbyists or policy influencers, than be a powerful Church who has compromised the mission. No one has ever found the Christianity more humble, more loving, more resembling Christ when it gained more power within the state.

It’s good to have enough sway to maintain religious freedom and be able to openly worship and even openly evangelize. But the Church is strongest when she is suffering with her people. I don't want the Church, or any Christians, especially me, to suffer. I don’t envy the Christians in China or Nigeria or Saudi Arabia. But I bet their faith is stronger than mine. I bet Christ holds them closer. There is no political or economic benefit to their Christianity. They experience suppression and persecution and still choose Christ.

I’m thinking of this on Fourth of July weekend, when a lot of churches wrap their sanctuaries in American flags and sing patriotic songs. How unnerving to have your patriotism and your faith be indistinguishable and inseparable. The early martyrs could never. Countries come and go. Political power is gained and taken away. But the kingdom of God and power the Christ is above and beyond all that.

The Lonesome Valley

For a long time I put off doing things or going places because I had no one to go with. And one of the best decisions I made was to do it anyway. Go see that movie. Go eat in the fancy restaurant. Go take that road trip. I’m so glad I’ve learned to travel on my own, because otherwise, I’d miss out on doing things while waiting to make friends who will join me.

Today’s Gospel reading talks about how the disciples are to go about their work of spreading the Gospel. They are sent out in pairs. It’s a practice that still holds true as good advice. It keeps missionaries safer as they travel and spiritually more accountable—less likely to be influenced by worldly influences and stay and less likely to build up a cult of personality. It’s better to go together.

But as I sat there alone in the pew, I thought of us that do go it alone: without spouse or friend or mentor or spiritual director. I’ve struggled so long with a lack of community and spiritual connection. Years of failing to get spiritual direction, years of trying to form a community of friends who share the faith, years of pouring out of an empty vessel. I know it’s better to go together, but what happens when you have no one to walk with?

A benefit of the lockdown in 2020 was stepping away from parish life and not struggling to make it work for me. I’ve dived back in, and I’m still going, going, going, trying to make connections. But they don’t come. I can’t recall the last time I was invited instead of doing the inviting. It’s been a long time, and the person has since moved away, since someone last asked how I was doing spiritually. I don’t have that partner for accountability, and it can be freeing, but lonely. There is no one to celebrate with or mourn with or just pass the days with.

The messages are always about the importance of community and how we can’t do it alone, but they never address how to find a partner disciple and how to build connections. For those of us who seemingly don’t fit in easily, belonging is a lot of hard work, sunk costs, and unseen pain.

And not only is it lonely, but I’m also part of the problem, making someone else feel lonely and rejected. We solo spiritual travelers are sitting in the same nave and not seeing one another. I wondered who else was sitting there this morning feeling like a failure because they have no one to mission with. Who else is faithfully going alone because surely going alone is better than not going at all?

You get discouraged. You get burnt out. You get frustrated and jealous. But you keep trying. Because we are told not to go alone. And if you are eventually blessed with someone to walk with, you appreciate it more than others ever will. Until then, I can only find solace in that others are on this journey, even if I can’t see them, and that there are saints who do see me and prayerfully supporting me, and that Jesus walked a very lonely path as well. Do you think anyone ever asked him how his spiritual life was doing? Did anyone ever try to pour into him? Or was it always him pouring, him always ministering, him always giving—though he does have the benefit of pouring from an ever-overflowing jar.

In travelling alone, perhaps I am in more danger. But I get to go places I wouldn’t otherwise go. And maybe that is necessary. Maybe the lonesome valley is it’s own mission destination.