My Dear Friends,
Welcome to Week 10 on your journey into the heart of the Church!
This week we hold together one of my very favorite parts of our faith—the both/and.
How this Church, as large as she is, can be filled with trials, personality, and “rules,” and yet stand the test of time, ever-present to each new generation. How can she be both full of men and yet filled with divine light?
Our Gospel this week gives us a glimpse into this both/and. Luke’s writings turn toward what we call the eschatological (Ess-KAH-toe-logical) end—plainly put, pointing us to the end of time and its meaning for the life of a Christian. From how we are to pray and posture ourselves before God, to what He must drive from our hearts and cleanse, we now look to the destruction of the Temple.
What you need to know is that to a first-century Jew, the Temple was the only dwelling place of God—the only place of sacrifice—and it was built with great intention, taking ages to complete. Jesus foretold the actual events that unfolded in the Jewish uprising against the Romans in 70 AD—a mere 50 years after He walked through that Temple. The signs He listed and the struggles of the early Church are echoed in the Acts of the Apostles, also authored by St. Luke.
So in a very real sense, this is something we can historically follow. But what does it mean for our salvation?
There are things in our lives that need to be rebuilt. You carry them, I carry them—some internal, some visible. To follow Jesus, to belong to His Church, sometimes requires a radical teardown of the inner temples we have built ourselves. Our careers, our knowledge, even our anxieties and trepidations—these can stand in the way of what God truly desires within us.
In our humanity, this process can feel destructive and chaotic; we may feel helpless. Yet in His Spirit, His divinity, His love, we become what we were created to be—the dwelling place of God. As we look to the end of time and the coming of Jesus (literally, the end of the world as we know it—to borrow a line from a great song), do we trust that He will never abandon us?
This new temple—this new Jerusalem—believe it or not, does not come only at the end of time, but exists in the both/and of now and what is to come. When we speak of the Church, the Bride of Christ, she exists both in this world and is anchored in the one to come.
This week we look at what the Four Marks of the Church are. And while Mark Labonte is a key member here, we’re actually referring to the Church as One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic.
What do these words mean to you? How does the Church see herself?
The Vatican II document Lumen Gentium (Light to the Nations) sums this up beautifully in Chapter 8:
“Just as Christ carried out the work of redemption in poverty and persecution, so the Church is called to follow the same route, that it might communicate the fruits of salvation to men. Christ Jesus, ‘though He was by nature God… emptied Himself, taking the nature of a slave,’ and ‘being rich, became poor’ for our sakes. Thus, the Church, although she needs human resources to carry out her mission, is not set up to seek earthly glory, but to proclaim, even by her own example, humility and self-sacrifice.”
The document continues:
“The Church, like a stranger in a foreign land, presses forward amid the persecutions of the world and the consolations of God, announcing the cross and death of the Lord until He comes. By the power of the risen Lord, she is given strength that she might, in patience and love, overcome her sorrows and challenges—both within herself and from without—and that she might reveal to the world, faithfully though darkly, the mystery of her Lord until, in the end, she will be manifested in full light.”
My friends, the Church—in the grand scheme of salvation—is the vessel through which all men are able to reach heaven. And we know she is sound for the journey through her Four Marks. It is within her that heaven is made present; within her we are fed and sustained, healed and formed, so that we might become outposts of God’s presence in the world—serving the mission and withstanding persecution, not in our own eloquent defense, but in His meek and humble authority.
To close out this week, we’ll expand our understanding of the spiritual works of mercy. In November, our focus turns to those who have passed before us. You’ll begin to notice that what can seem haphazard actually moves a Catholic through intentional phases throughout the year.
As we come to the close of the liturgical year, our readings become prophetic; we focus on our own death and pray for those who no longer have a voice to pray or act.
This week, Ethna Wilson from Maine Catholic Cemeteries will join us to share how she ministers to our brothers and sisters who have fallen asleep in Christ—whose bodies rest in hope, awaiting the Second Coming, when all will be reunited and perfected in Jesus.
Yours in Christ,
Tyler
To be One means, as you might think, there can be only one Church.
But what about the 39,000-plus branches of Christianity?
An image I like to use is that of the great Mississippi River. Her pure headwaters lie at one source—Jesus Himself. From that source, all grace flows to the world. Along the way, the river widens, gains strength, and meanders through the land with the express purpose of reaching the sea.
We have used this water to transport ourselves, irrigate our crops, fish for sustenance, and study her currents to understand the source and the goal—much like the Church. Yet at times we have also modified her flow, built dikes and dams, and sought to control her power. While these other channels may still draw from the same source, they are shaped and divided by human hands.
These other branches share with us a real, though imperfect, communion through the waters of Baptism, but lack one or more of the Four Pillars that make the Church complete.
Returning to that both/and tension I mentioned earlier:
The Church is holy because He is holy.
The Church is the Bride of Christ, and He loves His Bride. It is this love that makes her holy.
Think of the relationship between the sun and the moon. The early Church Fathers described the Church as the moon and Christ as the sun. The moon has no light of her own, but she reflects the light of the sun—casting it into the darkness for all to see.
So it is with the Church. Her holiness is not her own; it is the radiant reflection of Christ’s holiness shining through her.
The word Catholic comes from the Greek katholikos, meaning “universal.”
She truly is for all men. When the twelve tribes of Israel disbanded, the Jewish people were scattered to the four winds. They did not vanish but were dispersed among the nations—separated from the covenant of God’s chosen people.
Through the coming of Jesus Christ, the destruction of the old temple, and the new covenant established in the Paschal Mystery, God calls all men back to Himself. The Church, therefore, is not limited to one nation or race but is truly universal—gathering together all who will respond to His call.
There is an old saying that a cord of three strands is not easily broken.
When defining the Catholic Church, there is a primary cord through which the other two are entwined. According to Hans Urs von Balthasar, the three cords are:
The Word Proclaimed (Scripture)
The Word Celebrated (Sacraments)
The Office of Unity (Petrine Authority)
Of these three, unity is primary. Without apostolic succession and the Chair of Peter, we lose sight of the meaning and grace of the other two. We lose confidence and become fractured, as seen in the many denominations that have let go of this unifying thread.
Jesus clearly establishes order within His Church and delegates authority to Peter. This is evident in John’s Gospel: though John runs faster to the tomb, he waits for Peter to enter first. It is also affirmed throughout history in the lives of the saints—like St. Francis, who, though given a vision to rebuild the Church, still sought the bishop’s permission before acting.
We are not a subjective religion, but one of objective truth. Christ founded a Church, gave it a mission, and appointed men to carry it out.
It is this line of Sacred Tradition—upheld through apostolic succession—that binds these cords together, ensuring the harmony of Scripture, Sacrament, and Unity, all pointing the way to heaven.
Attached below is a PDF download of a paper I wrote during a spring semester at Franciscan University.
In keeping with the theme of the river, I lean into my own place within it — reflecting on what it means to belong to the Church and to live within her current of grace.
If you choose to read it, know that these words are my own thoughts and reflections — what the Church is to me, and how I’ve come to find my place within her.
While most of what we share here comes from larger websites and trusted sources, this one is found only here — and it may be a little flawed. But hey, it’s Jesus who makes us holy, not ourselves, right?