Easter Bees

In this, my blog’s latest installment of commentary on De Virginibus, St. Ambrose compares consecrated virgins to bees, taking his inspiration from the honeycomb mentioned in the Song of Songs 5:1.* (For previous entries from this blog on De Virginibus, see here, here, and here. To read Book I of De Virginibus in its entirety, click here.)

At first, I thought that this seemed like a weird metaphor—I for one would not have thought to compare consecrated virgins to insects!—and saying that it was implied by the honeycomb in the Song of Songs seemed like a bit of a “stretch.” But in some ways this particular section seemed very appropriate to post while we’re still in the remainder of the Easter season. Specifically, because bees also find their way into the Exultet, perhaps the most magnificent and moving of the Church’s Easter hymns, which is sung in conjunction with the lighting of the Pascal candle.

The Easter bees are unfortunately lost in translation right now, (though this might change when the new English translation of the Liturgy comes out) so you probably didn’t hear about them when you went to the Easter Vigil this year. However, here is an English translation of their mention in the Latin Exultet:

Therefore, in this night of grace,
accept, O Holy Father, the evening sacrifice of this praise,
which Holy Church renders to You
in the solemn offering of this waxen candle
by the hands of Your ministers from the work of bees.

We are knowing now the proclamations of this column,
which glowing fire kindles in honor of God.
Which fire, although it is divided into parts,
is knowing no loss from its light being lent out.
For it is nourished by the melting streams of wax,
which the mother bee produced for the substance of this precious torch.**

Here, bees are beautiful because they are fruitful, and their fruitfulness comes to serve an exceptionally noble purpose—namely, the praise of God. Thus in this section of De Virginibus, St. Ambrose describes consecrated virgins as being like these “Easter bees” in their life of prayer. Emphases, in bold, and comments, in red, are mine.

***
Taking the passage concerning the honeycomb in the Song of Songs, he expounds it, comparing the sacred virgins to bees.

40. Let, then, your work be as it were a honeycomb, for virginity is fit to be compared to bees, so laborious is it, so modest, so continent. The bee feeds on dew, it knows no marriage couch, it makes honey. The virgin’s dew is the divine word, for the words of God descend like the dew. The virgin’s modesty is unstained nature. The virgin’s produce is the fruit of the lips, (i.e., prayer) without bitterness, abounding in sweetness. They work in common, and their fruit is in common. (Although some consecrated virgins of St. Ambrose’s time did live together in sort of proto-convents, they do not seem to have had the emphasis on the “common life” the same way that later, truly monastic religious Orders like the Benedictines would. So I think that the common “work” and “fruit” mentioned here probably represent the prayer of consecrated virgins. If consecrated virgins were charged with liturgical prayer in St. Ambrose’s day as they are now, then this common work and fruit could refer to the unity of the voice of the Church at prayer.)

41. How I wish you, my daughter, to be an imitator of these bees, whose food is flowers, (“Food” here probably means the contemplative reading of Scripture) whose offspring is collected and brought together by the mouth. Do imitate her, my daughter. Let no veil of deceit be spread over your words; let them have no covering of guile, that they may be pure, and full of gravity.

42. And let an eternal succession of merits be brought forth by your mouth. Gather not for yourself alone (for how do you know when your soul shall be required of you?), lest leaving your granaries heaped full with corn, which will be a help neither to your life nor to your merits, you be hurried thither where you cannot take your treasure with you. Be rich then, but towards the poor, that as they share in your nature they may also share your goods. (Here is a call for consecrated virgins to live a life of generosity. I think that modern consecrated virgins—even when they are full-time graduate students and therefore somewhat materially poor!—can still be generous with their time, prayers, concern for other, and friendship. In my own life, I find that it’s important for me to renew my decision to “give of myself” every day.)

43. And I also point out to you what flower is to be culled, that one it is Who said: I am the Flower of the field, and the Lily of the valleys, as a lily among thorns, (This seems like an allusion to the Eucharist) which is a plain declaration that virtues are surrounded by the thorns of spiritual wickedness, so that no one can gather the fruit who does not approach with caution. (I’m very glad that St. Ambrose makes this last point. I think you could read this line as a reference to the persecution from “the world” that those truly striving for holiness will inevitable face at some time. But my though is that St. Ambrose is actually trying to draw our attention to the fact that attempting to scale the heights of virtue leaves one with the danger of potentially having farther to fall. My thought is that this is partially why consecrated virginity requires a very solid “human formation.” That is, if a person is not well-balanced on a natural level, then the practice of the supernatural virtue of virginity is likely to exacerbate that person’s emotional, human problems.)

—St. Ambrose, De Virginibus; Book I, chapter 8

* I’m linking to New Advent’s copy of the Douay-Rheims version, instead of my typical practice of referencing the USCCB’s New American Bible, because the N.A.B. for some reason doesn’t include the word “honeycomb” in its translation!
** From “What Does the Prayer Really Say?”

Archbishop Burke on Consecrated Virginity

This quote was sent to me by Judith Stegman, president of the Unites Sates Association of Consecrated Virgins (USACV).

The passage here was taken from an interview with Archbishop Burke in Washington D.C., shortly after he spoke at the National Catholic Prayer Breakfast earlier this month.

Although Archbishop Burke is currently stationed at the Vatican as head of the Roman Rota (the Church’s “Supreme Court”), until recently he served as the liaison between the USACV and the bishops’ conference in the United States. (Emphases, in bold, are mine.)

***

From National Review Online:

En route from Washington to the Eternal City, Archbishop Burke took some questions from National Review Online, expanding on some of the themes of his speech Friday, and addressing a new one or two.

KATHRYN JEAN LOPEZ: You’ve been very supportive of “consecrated virgins.” Is this concept important in the church? Does American society — one you say is in “crisis” — need it?

ARCHBISHOP BURKE: The consecrated virgins give a strong witness to the purity and selflessness with which we all should love one another, especially our brothers and sisters who are in most need. The consecrated virgin offers her virginity to Christ for consecration, so that she may give public witness to the love of Christ for all, without boundary and to the end. A society which is growing increasingly secularized needs desperately the life and witness of consecrated virgins who call all their brothers and sisters to love as Christ loves, that is, for the lasting good of all.

Back Home

(about the image: No, I don’t actually live in New York City, but in one of the rural “upper counties” of the Archdiocese of New York. (The Archdiocese stretches from Staten Island past Kingston—almost near Albany. We’re 2.5 million Catholics!) Still, when I’m in the city or see pictures of it, it makes me very glad to think that my prayers for the Archdiocese are for the spiritual benefit of all these individual people.)

I’m finally home in New York after a challenging semester, and a very long road trip! Besides my happiness of being in familiar surroundings and near family and friends once more, since I was consecrated last January I find that there’s a special joy in being physically present here. A big part of my vocation is praying for the needs of the bishops, clergy, seminarians (consecrated virgins in New York pray for them at the specific request of the NY Vocation Office), and all the people of the Archdiocese of New York. So to me, geographical proximity to the people for whom I pray is always a real consolation!

I’m very grateful to everyone who prayed for my safe travels. Driving 1000+ miles on my own was exhausting and often nerve-racking; at one point I learned the hard way that the streets in Washington DC are NOT laid out on a grid in the same way that the streets of New York City are! But overall it was a good experience and it gave me the chance to meet or visit some great people, including the Raleigh Vocation Office and the Visitation nuns in Georgetown (who were kind enough to let me stay with their wonderful community for a few days of recollection on my way home…thanks Sisters!)

My summer plans include translating and out-of-print book from Spanish into English. I wouldn’t exactly call myself bilingual (I have four years of high school Spanish), but after spending so much time studying Latin and Greek I’m really looking forward to working with a non-case language!

I am really behind on e-mails, but I do appreciate all the messages I get from readers of this blog. I’ll do my best to catch up with everyone as soon as possible.

(In contrast to the first picture, here is a photo taken of the Hudson river from the banks of my hometown. It's beautiful here in the Spring!)

Your Patience Requested…

(About the image: He’s an old photo of Jesuit novices studying. It pretty much captures how I feel right now! H/t “Roman Catholic Vocations.”)

Please bear with me and forgive the slow posting and lull in e-mail correspondence—I’m finishing up final exams at the end of a very demanding semester, and next week I’ll be driving my car home to New York from across the country.

Regular (perhaps weekly) posting will resume in a week or two, once I’m home for the summer.

In the meantime, please pray for all the new priests who were ordained today for the Archdiocese of New York!

A Meditation For Good Friday And Holy Saturday

(I’m posting this late, since obviously I wasn’t going to be on the computer at all this afternoon, but I thought I would still share this meditation I wrote last year for a Lenten evening of reflection on the “Seven Last Words” at the university from which I recently graduated.)

***

“My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?”

—Mark 15:34

In my mind at least, these words are the very essence of the entire Passion. Even while Jesus’ physical and emotional torments were truly horrible, they are nothing when compared with this, Christ’s spiritual suffering.

God is truly the source and sustainer of everything good. Without Him, even things which we would consider good for their own sake—things like friendship and human sympathy, or natural beauty or artistic accomplishment—are empty and valueless. God is incalculably greater than all that He has made, and He is the only source of all joy.

This is why we are called to love God “with all our heart, and with all our soul, and with all our strength” (cf. Deuteronomy 6:5), because as we grow in our faith God should become everything to us. I think this is also why thousands of martyrs were able to relinquish all the things they held most dear in their earthly life; they understood that they were trading a small puddle for the ocean.

Of course Christians are still human, and we will feel pain when painful things happen to us. If we were to become seriously ill or lose someone close to us, it would be completely normal and healthy for us to grieve. Still, our faith could help us bear our grief with peace and hope.

But what if God Himself were to abandon us? Theologically, we know that God would never forsake any of us, His children. But in some sense, the question is not irrelevant.

For example, we now know that Bl. Mother Theresa of Calcutta, like many other great saints, spent most of her life under the subjective impression that God had rejected her, despite the abundant evidence to the contrary. Even if we ourselves never have a similar experience, we may still find it troubling that God would seem to behave this way towards someone so close to Him.

On a corporate level, the people of Israel—the nation whom God had chosen to be His own in a special way—seemed to have felt that God abandoned them during the period of the Babylonian captivity. Their experience is recorded in some of the psalms, as well as in the haunting lyrics of the book of Lamentations:

He has broken my teeth with gravel, /pressed my face in the dust;
My soul is deprived of peace, /I have forgotten what happiness is;

I tell myself my future is lost, /all that I hoped from the Lord.

The thought of my homeless poverty /is wormwood and gall;
Remembering it over and over /leaves my soul downcast within me.

(Lamentations 3:16-20)

In some ways, many of the crises plaguing the Church today can evoke similar reactions from contemporary Catholics. While issues such as the “culture of death,” the breakdown of the traditional family, and the increasing secularity of our society may not always seem as dramatic as the Babylonian exile, they are nevertheless able to shake many people’s faith and prompt them to question Providence.

And yet even apart form all of this, this question is important simply because it was a part of Jesus’ Passion. By virtue of our baptism, we are all called to be with Christ in His Passion to at least some degree. As Jesus said, “Whoever wishes to be my disciple must deny himself, take up his cross and follow me.” (Matthew 16:24) and “Can you drink to cup that I am to drink?” (Matthew 20:22)

We don’t stay with Jesus in His Passion because we like suffering, but rather because we love Jesus. I think probably most of us can wrap our minds around the idea of staying with Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane—we probably feel that we could keep watch for an hour.

Perhaps with great difficulty, we can even manage to stay with Jesus at the scourging, along the Via Dolorosa, and at the crucifixion. But how could we possibly manage to be with Jesus during the moment he uttered this cry of complete desolation? It would almost seem akin to finding ourselves in Hell!

I honestly don’t know exactly how it is that we can remain with Jesus even here. The only thing I can say is that if God calls us to it, then He must give us the strength that we would need.

But here in the deepest darkness it’s important to remember some other words from the book of Lamentations, found even here in the midst of arguably the most anguished verses in all of Scripture:

The favors of the Lord are not exhausted /His mercies are not spent;
They are renewed every morning, /so great is His faithfulness.
My portion is the Lord, says my soul; /therefore I will hope in Him.

Good is the Lord to the one who waits for Him, /to the soul that seeks Him;
It is good to hope in silence /for the saving help of the Lord.
It is good for a man to bear /the yolk from his youth.

Let him sit alone and in silence, /when it is laid upon him.
Let him put his mouth to the dust; /there may yet be hope

(Lamentations 3:22-29)

If, with the help of grace, we choose to continue to love God through darkness, He will use it as an opportunity to configure us more closely to Christ. Our faith will be strengthened, our hope will be increased, and our love will be purified.

Even while we will seem to have lost all of our joy, we will be given newer, deeper joys that we would not have understood before. We will understand Christ in a new way when he said, “Once I was dead, but now I am alive forever and ever. I hold the keys to death and the netherworld.” (Revelation 1:18)

And this is the Pascal mystery—the center of our faith and the gift we in inherited at Baptism.

St. Ambrose Writes On Marriage And Virginity

(About the image: This is a late Medieval/early Renaissance painting of St. Ambrose (c. 340 - 397 A.D.) preaching to St. Monica—a married woman of renowned holiness—and her son, St. Augustine.)

In continuing with my project to present and discuss more of the Church Fathers’ writings on consecrated virginity, here is Book I, chapter 6 of St. Ambrose’s De Virginibus, or “Concerning Virgins.” (For more sections of De Virginibus from this blog, see here and here. To read the work in its entirety, click here.)

I decided to post these “highlight” passages of De Virginibus in the order that they appear in the original work, which is why this particular passage is presented here now. However, I was a little uncomfortable posting it, because this particular selection seems to be a classic example of what it is that upsets people when they complain of the Church Fathers’ excessively “negative” views on marriage, or even of their alleged disparaging of the sacrament of matrimony in order to prove the superiority of consecrated celibacy.

But, I think that it is unfair to write off the opinions of the Church Fathers on this topic based on the viewpoints and pastoral needs of our contemporary Catholicism. True, in enumerating the trials of marriage and motherhood it would seem that St. Ambrose is trying to make consecrated virginity look like it’s the only truly virtuous and reasonable thing to do with one’s life. And this sort of theme is common in many of the Church Fathers’ writings.

However, while we should listen to what the Fathers actually said, I don’t think that we should necessarily take our negative initial impressions at their face value. First of all, St. Ambrose would not have praised consecrated virginity as that which “makes martyrs” (see this previous post) if he had seen this vocation as an “easy way out,” or even something which could be understood as valuable through a merely human wisdom.

Also, in speaking of the heartache inherent in marriage and family life (as well as speaking of particular character weaknesses frequently found among married women), St. Ambrose is not trying to depict marriage as something intrinsically bad. In fact, as a pastor he probably presumes that the joys and virtues of marital fidelity and fruitfulness are already self-evident to his audience; my thought is that the Catholics of his time did not need to be reminded of the worth and goodness of “settling down” into the permanent commitment of marriage in quite the same way as today’s Catholics often do. Rather, I think St. Ambrose is trying to present a sort of momento mori in order to highlight one of the unique beauties of consecrated virginity—namely, that the passing nature of this world does not affect a consecrated virgin in the same way as it does a married woman, since consecrated virgins already have their hearts firmly set in Eternity.

I have made some very minor editorial changes from the version posted on NewAdvent.org, in the interest of grammatical clarity for American readers. Emphases, in bold, and commentary, in (red) are mine.

***

St. Ambrose explains that he is not speaking against marriage, and proceeds to compare the advantages and disadvantages of the single and married state.

24. I am not indeed discouraging marriage, but am enlarging upon the benefits of virginity. He who is weak, says the Apostle, eats herbs. (Romans 14:2) I consider one thing necessary, I admire another. Are you bound to a wife? Seek not to be loosed. Are you free from a wife? Seek not a wife. (1 Corinthians 7:27) This is the command to those who are. But what does he say concerning virgins? He who gives his virgin in marriage does well, and he who gives her not does better. (1 Corinthians 7:38) The one sins not if she marries, the other, if she marries not, it is for eternity. In the former is the remedy for weakness, in the latter the glory of chastity. The former is not reproved, the latter is praised.

25. Let us compare, if it pleases you, the advantages of married women with that which awaits virgins. Though the noble woman boasts of her abundant offspring, yet the more she bears the more she endures. Let her count up the comforts of her children, but let her likewise count up the troubles. (By “troubles” here, I think St. Ambrose is talking more about maternal worry and heartbreak common in an age of high infant mortality rates—and NOT so about the personal inconveniences and sacrifices which childrearing demands.) She marries and weeps. How many vows does she make with tears? She conceives, and her fruitfulness brings her trouble before offspring. She brings forth and is ill. How sweet a pledge which begins with danger and ends in danger, which will cause pain before pleasure! (It was also, of course, common for women to die in childbirth in St. Ambrose’s day.) It is purchased by perils, and is not possessed at her own will.

26. Why speak of the troubles of nursing, training, and marrying? These are the miseries of those who are fortunate. A mother has heirs, but it increases her sorrows. For we must not speak of adversity, lest the minds of the holiest parents tremble. Consider, my sister, how hard it must be to bear what one must not speak of. (I.e., losing a child.) And this is in this present age. But the days shall come when they shall say: Blessed are the barren, and the wombs that never bore. (Luke 23:29) (I think St. Ambrose is using this reference to illustrate how consecrated virginity anticipates the Last Judgment and the Second coming of Christ.) For the daughters of this age are conceived, and conceive; but the daughter of the kingdom refrains from wedded pleasure, and the pleasure of the flesh, that she may be holy in body and in spirit. (The last part of this phrase is used in an antiphon in the Rite of Consecration.)

27. Why should I further speak of the painful ministrations and services due to their husbands from wives, to whom before slaves God gave the command to serve? (Genesis 3:16) And I mention these things that they may comply more willingly, whose reward, if approved, is love; if not approved, punishment for the fault. (It seems that St. Ambrose here is speaking about marriage in the ways in which it is marred by original sin—and NOT of the sacramental ideal of marriage as it was proposed in Pope John Paul II’s writings on the “Theology of the Body.”)

28. And in this position spring up those incentives to vice, in that they paint their faces with various colors, fearing not to please their husbands; and from staining their faces, come to think of staining their chastity. What madness is here, to change the fashion of nature and seek a painting, and while fearing a husband’s judgment to give up their own. For she is the first to speak against herself who wishes to change that which is natural to her. (In another context, this line could be useful in explaining to women the Church’s teaching on contraception.) So, while studying to please others, she displeases herself. What truer witness to your unsightliness do we require, O woman, than yourself who art afraid to be seen? If you are beautiful, why hide you yourself? If unsightly, why do you falsely pretend to beauty, so as to have neither the satisfaction of your own conscience, nor of the error of another? For he loves another, you desire to please another. And are you angry if he love another, who is taught to do so in your own person? You are an evil teacher of your own injury. (I certainly don’t think that this would apply to modest women today who wear natural-looking make-up to look professional or simply “polished.” But beyond that, I think that St. Ambrose still makes some interesting points here.)

29. And next, what expense is necessary that even a beautiful wife may not fail to please? Costly necklaces on the one hand hang on her neck, on the other a robe woven with gold is dragged along the ground. Is this display purchased, or is it a real possession? And what varied enticements of perfumes are made use of! The ears are weighed down with gems; a different color from nature is dropped into the eyes. What is there left which is her own, when so much is changed? The married woman loves her own perceptions, and does she think that this is to live?

30. But you, O happy virgins, who know not such torments, rather than ornaments, whose holy modesty, beaming in your bashful cheeks, and sweet chastity are a beauty, you do not, intent upon the eyes of men, consider as merits what is gained by the errors of others. (On a purely practical note, I think that this line—as well as the many similar thoughts expressed throughout the writings of the Fathers—might be a good argument for modern consecrated virgins to adopt sort of a “dress code” of not wearing make-up or jewelry beyond perhaps a very simple cross or religious medal—and a consecration ring, of course!) You, too, have indeed your own beauty, furnished by the comeliness of virtue, not of the body, to which age puts not an end, which death cannot take away, nor any sickness injure. Let God alone be sought as the judge of loveliness, Who loves even in less beautiful bodies the more beautiful souls. You know nothing of the burden and pain of childbearing, but more are the offspring of a pious soul, which esteems all as its children, which is rich in successors, barren of all bereavements, which knows no deaths, but has many heirs. (I think this is a beautiful tribute to spiritual motherhood.)

31. So the holy Church, ignorant of wedlock, but fertile in bearing, is in chastity a virgin, yet a mother in offspring. She, a virgin, bears us her children, not by a human father, but by the Spirit. She bears us not with pain, but with the rejoicings of the angels. She, a virgin, feeds us, not with the milk of the body, but with that of the Apostle, wherewith he fed the tender age of the people who were still children. (1 Corinthians 3:2) For what bride has more children than holy Church, who is a virgin in her sacraments and a mother to her people, whose fertility even holy Scripture attests, saying, For many more are the children of the desolate than of her that has an husband? She has not an husband, but she has a Bridegroom, inasmuch as she, whether as the Church among nations, or as the soul in individuals, without any loss of modesty, she weds the Word of God as her eternal Spouse, free from all injury, full of reason.

—St. Ambrose, De Virginibus; Book I, chapter 6

A Good Talk From The Pope

…sent to me by Fr. Luke Sweeney of “NYPriest.com.”

Obviously, virgins consecrated according to canon 604 don’t live in “contemplative” or monastic communities. But I think that cloistered nuns and consecrated virgins actually have more in common spiritually than do consecrated virgins and active Sisters, since the vocation to consecrated virginity (even “in the world”) is essentially contemplative.

Unfortunately, I don’t know very much about the saint mentioned here, but I found this article helpful.

***

Pontiff Says Contemplatives Give Breath to World

...Calls Communities a “Spiritual Lung”

ROME, MARCH 9, 2009 (Zenit.org).- Contemplative communities are called to be a type of “spiritual lung” for the world, so that spiritual "respiration" is not strangled by the bustle of cities, says Benedict XVI.

The Pope said this today when he visited the Oblate Sisters of Santa Francesca Romana. He stopped at the convent after having visited the headquarters of Rome's civil authorities, where he addressed the mayor and other civil leaders.

Today is the feast day of St. Francesca (1384-1440), whom the Holy Father referred to as “the most Roman of saints.”

After spending some time in adoration of the Blessed Sacrament and in veneration of the saint’s body, the Pope addressed the sisters and students that reside at the center.

Referring to his spiritual exercises last week with the members of the Curia, the Holy Father said “he had felt once again how indispensable silence and prayer are.”

He noted how the convent is located at the heart of the city, saying, “How can we not see in it the symbol of the need to return the spiritual dimension to the center of civil coexistence, to give full meaning to the multiple activities of the human being?”

The Bishop of Rome told the nuns: “Your community, together with the other communities of contemplative life, is called to be a sort of ‘spiritual lung’ of society, so that the performance, the activism of a city, is not devoid of spiritual ‘respiration,’ the reference to God and his plan of salvation. [...]

“A singular balance is lived here between religious and secular life, between the life of the world and outside of the world. A model that was not born in a laboratory, but in the concrete experience of a young Roman woman: written—it could be said—by God himself in Francesca's extraordinary existence.”

“It is no accident that the walls of this environment are decorated with images of her life, demonstrating that the real building that God wishes to construct is the life of the saints.”

In this context, the Pope stressed that also today “Rome needs women who are all for God and for their neighbor; women able to recollect themselves and give generous and discreet service; women who are able to obey their pastors, but also able to support and motivate them with their suggestions.”

This vocation “is the gift of a maternity that is made one with religious oblation, modeled after Mary,” the Pontiff reflected. “Mary’s heart is the cloister where the Word continues to speak in silence, and at the same time is the furnace of a charity that leads to courageous gestures, and also to a persevering and hidden generosity.”