Showing items filed under “The Rev. Canon Dr. Victor Lee Austin”

Eccee Homo: Transformation on the Way

 There is a chapel on the Camino Frances just west of Astorga, Spain, called “Ecce Homo”; in the center of its reredos, standing just above the tabernacle, is the image of Jesus, hands bound to the top of a pillar. This is where he was whipped. The words “Ecce homo” were spoken by Pilate when he presented Jesus to the crowd: doubtless bleeding, having been “roughed up” as we might say by soldiers having their pleasures. There he is. Pilate says: Behold the man! 

    Many have thought this a sentence that says more than it intends. It’s as if Pilate said, “Behold what a human being is,” because Jesus, of course, was perfectly human, without any of the subtraction that sin makes in our humanity. A real human being in this world of sin is of course the subject of abuse, of lies, of calumnies, of rejection, of cancellation we could say, and ultimately of death at the hands of others. This is what a real human being is.

    At the chapel, one of many favorite stopping places by pilgrims on their way to Santiago de Compostela, pilgrims can find many encouragements to continue their way, despite all difficulties and discouragements. To the viewer’s right of the altar, these words are on the wall: “Yo soy el Camino, la Verdad, y la Vida. Nadie va al Padre, sino por mi.” In English: I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life. No one comes to the Father, save by me. The Camino is the Way, and the Way is Jesus, and he is the Way to the being of God.

    Outside the church, in the wall of the porch, one sees a pilgrim’s prayer in many languages. Here it is in Spanish: “Jesús, mi señor, mi amigo, Tú, el icono de Dios, Tú, fuente de comunión, De libertad y de amor. Tú, que eres mi servidor, Caminas siempre conmigo.” This is very encouraging. Roughly, it addresses Jesus and Lord and friend, calls him the image of God and the fountain of communion, liberty, and love. It then says that Jesus is the speaker’s servant who is always walking with the speaker: “caminas siempre conmigo,” “you are always walking with me.”

    Underneath this is a statement that is soberly profound. The print is smaller; it’s not part of the prayer but rather a message to the pilgrim reading it. “El camino es la transformación que aconteció en la humanidad de Jesús”—”The camino is the transformation that was accomplished in the humanity of Jesus,” which is a remarkable thing to say. Jesus, through his earthly life, was transformed in his humanity; or let us say, that by becoming human and actually living a human life, there is a transformation in Jesus. We know this is true because the Word became flesh “and dwelt among us,” as John 1 has it: God the Word didn’t just “add” humanity to himself; becoming “flesh” was an action, a “dwelling” and more than a dwelling, a walking (caminas, “you walk”!) with us. 

    But this is only the first half of the admonition to the pilgrim. It goes on: “y que, ahora, pro el poder de su Espíritu puede y debe acontecer en ti.” The transformation is not only something that happened in Jesus; it is something “that, now, by the power of his Spirit can and ought to happen in you.” The Camino is a transformation in our humanity, that is the same as the transformation in Jesus’ by his humanity; in both cases, we could say, God is bringing about complete humanity.

— 

    Behold the human! Look in a mirror, ponder your life: you also, like Jesus, are on the Camino of transformation. This can happen in you, with the power of God’s Holy Spirit. It can happen and it needs to happen. Each of us, whether we are pilgrims in Spain or not, we are in truth pilgrims in our life, we are going somewhere, and in the going we are, or can be and should be, changed in a manner that makes us fellow pilgrims with Jesus. 

    There is a theological/pastoral challenge here, nicely captured by this admonition below the pilgrim’s prayer at the Ecce Homo chapel. On the one hand, we need to change; the point of the Camino is for us to grow up into the full stature of Christ. On the other hand, Jesus is not ahead of us, he is walking this same human road with us all the time. Yes, change is needed, but yes, you are already with Jesus. Each person can say to Jesus, you are “conmigo,” “with me.”

    Fellow pilgrims, he is our model; his life and his truth are for us to admire and long to have; he is always with us. Jesus is the Way which means he is also on the Way.

— 

    On the Web. Yours truly had an essay published at First Things last week: “The Wrongness of Human Death.” You can read it here (and please persist to the end: it is surprising good news!): https://firstthings.com/the-wrongness-of-human-death/ 

Posted by The Rev. Canon Dr. Victor Lee Austin with

Nearer, My God

    The cathedral in Leon, Spain, is a monument to Christian faith as one of the first and major examples of Gothic architecture. As is well-known (and can be better explained by others than yours truly), the Gothic achievement was to make ribs of stone that hold up the building’s weight and roof, rather than (as with the previous Romanesque) having the weight of the building upheld by the entirety of its walls. Leon’s cathedral was built from about 1250 to about 1300, and amazingly still stands today. One might say rather than “stands” that the building stretches itself heavenward; it is literally uplifting.

    There is a choir in the middle of the cathedral, a later development that obscures the Gothic experience. (Originally the choir was close to the altar.) The audio guide at Leon asks the visitor to imagine the choir screen’s absence, and to think of the experience of light. There is so much stained glass possible in Gothic (since the walls do not bear weight), that visitor is moved towards God. The height of the building draws the eye along the sweep of the cathedral to the east. This is towards the altar, where the Eucharist is celebrated and Jesus, the Light of the world, becomes present to us in the sacrament of bread and wine. Every day begins with light coming in through those vibrant windows. Through the day (Leon being in the north) the light comes in through the southern windows of the church, and at sunset, through the western windows. At Leon, but not uniquely there, the northern windows (which never receive direct light) depict figures who preceded and longed for Jesus, but never knew the Light of the world. The southern windows depict apostles and saints and believers who knew Jesus or lived after his resurrection: the Light shines through them. The eastern windows have themes of the Incarnation itself, the beginning of the dwelling of the Light amongst us. To the west, the great rose window shows angels of the judgment that will come at the end of the world. Thus a day in the light of the cathedral provides meaning to the entirety of human history.

    Mary is particularly venerated in Spain. She is, for instance, at the center of the western window. In the midst of judgment she provides, as the guide puts it, a softening element that invites us to trust and not to fear. She does this, of course, by pointing us to her son.

    If you search online for “Virgen Blanca at Leon Catedral” you will find a wonderful image of Mary, the White Virgin (“white” from the stone color and lack of any paint) that greeted pilgrims to Santiago on their way. She has a visage and general attitude that was anticipated, by those who had heard of her, and is easily seen as encouraging for us who are still on our pilgrimage of life.

— 

    I was impressed by the cathedral’s overall evangelical approach. The literature, for instance, makes clear that its primary purpose is to ground the life of Christians in the historic truth of faith. So tourism must yield to worship. Tourism also embraces basic evangelism: the tourist materials are educational, explaining Christianity to people who may never have heard it. I particularly thrilled to hear the guide say, of a particular chapel full of beautiful things, that of course the cathedral considered its greatest treasure to be the consecrated Bread of the Eucharist.

    One’s mind suddenly went to the fire at Paris’s Notre Dame a few years ago and the image of a priest emerging from the flames, having rescued the reserved sacrament.

— 

    There is a special chapel, beside and connected to Leon’s cathedral, where most of the masses are celebrated. I went to the noon mass last Sunday. The chapel seats at least 200, and there is overflow space, and it seemed full. There was a fine tracker organ and an excellent organist; besides voluntary music before and after, a Spanish hymn (known by the locals) and then the Kyrie, Gloria, and so on were sung to accompanied plainchant, words mostly in Latin. When we got to Communion, the organist started playing an old hymn, “Nearer, My God, to Thee.” You could have picked me up from the floor. Then a soloist started singing in Spanish to the tune which, I later learned, is called “Bethany (Mason).” It was masterful, simple, and sublime. In this church, as in any church, gathered on the Lord’s Day, everything can conspire to draw us closer to God. You don’t have to understand the language. You don’t have to know what the many elements of the building stand for. The truth is that the Light shines in the darkness, that God has visited us in Jesus, shared our life, put us on a journey to him, feeds us along the way, calls us to repentance, lures us to holiness, and at moments along the way one can become aware that one is indeed “Nearer to Thee.”

 
Posted by The Rev. Canon Dr. Victor Lee Austin with

Previous12345678910 ... 204205

The Rev. Canon Victor Lee Austin. Ph.D., is the Theologian-in-Residence for the diocese and is the author of several books including, "Friendship: The Heart of Being Human" and "A Post-Covid Catechesis.: 

Categories
Authors
Archive