[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]\u201c[T]he cathedral provokes a contemptuous world.\u201d[1]<\/a> That\u2019s a line from a little poem by Rilke; it\u2019s something Rodin had said. Rilke, the poet, for a time worked for Rodin, the sculptor, until they had a falling out as artists often do.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201c[T]he cathedral provokes a contemptuous world.\u201d That\u2019s the line; they were words stuck enough in Rilke\u2019s brain that he wrote them into poetry. They\u2019ve got stuck in my brain too. \u201c[T]he cathedral provokes a contemptuous world.\u201d That\u2019s an interesting way to put it, and in a sense that is exactly right. That\u2019s exactly what cathedrals should do, all churches in fact. \u201c[T]he cathedral provokes a contemptuous world.\u201d The church is not the world, nor should it ever be. The church instead should provoke the world\u2014like salt, like light, like holy scandal. For that\u2019s the only way the world will be redeemed\u2014by it\u2019s first having been provoked.<\/p>\n It’s interesting that Rodin would have said it, and that Rilke would have written it down, for neither of them were believers in any recognizably Christian sense. Rodin worshipped sculpture, literally. Rodin used to read The Imitation of Christ<\/em>, for instance, but each time he came across the word \u201cGod\u201d he replaced it with word \u201csculpture.\u201d[2]<\/a> Sculpture was his idol. And Rilke\u2019s relationship to Catholicism was just bizarre. They were worldlings\u2014both of them\u2014heathen artists, lapsed Catholics, pagans. But that\u2019s exactly what makes that little line from that little poem even more interesting. \u201c[T]he cathedral provokes a contemptuous world.\u201d They recognized the cathedral was something different, that the church didn\u2019t fit within the world and its sin, that the church was an enemy of all that\u2014holy and hostile to all that is not holy. And that\u2019s what I find so interesting, what gets me, that two hedonists would understand that\u2014a truth many Christians would like, I think, to forget, that that\u2019s what Christians and churches are called to do sometimes, and that is provoke a contemptuous world.<\/p>\n Not many people want that, though, do they\u2014to provoke the world? The world\u2019s flattery is nicer. It\u2019s just more of a pleasant prospect to be praised and paid than to be ridiculed and persecuted. Fan mail is better than hate mail; your compliments feel better than your criticism. I wouldn\u2019t be telling you the truth if I piously told you otherwise. But then again, I\u2019m always a little nervous of the world\u2019s praise. I worry about myself when I experience it; I worry about all those celebrity priests and bishops. Maybe I shouldn\u2019t, but I do. Because I know there\u2019s danger in it\u2014in liking being liked by the world, in shaping one\u2019s ministry or one\u2019s church in such a way that it will fit more comfortably in the world.<\/p>\n I remember what Pope Benedict XVI said (long before he was pope), that \u201ca bishop whose only concern is not to have any problems\u2026is an image I find repulsive.\u201d[3]<\/a> He said that because that\u2019s pretty much the sentiment of the New Testament. I mean, remember what Jesus said: \u201cIf you belonged to the world, the world would love its own; but because you do not belong to the world, and I have chosen you out of the world, the world hates you.\u201d[4]<\/a> Be ye not conformed to this age, Paul said.[5]<\/a> \u201cWe have become like the world\u2019s rubbish, the scum of all,\u201d he said.[6]<\/a> John, in the Book of Revelation, heard the Lord tell the church at Laodicea, \u201cI will spit you out of my mouth.\u201d But why did the Lord say that to them? Because those Christians in Laodicea said to themselves, \u201cI am rich and affluent and have no need of anything.\u201d \u201c[A]nd yet you do not realize that you are wretched,\u201d the Lord said to them.[7]<\/a> They were comfortable in the world; they did not provoke it. Maybe their clergymen got along well with the world too; maybe some of them were famous; maybe they were praised. You see what I mean? You see why, although I prefer praise to criticism, I still get a little nervous about it?<\/p>\n Because we in the Church can sometimes too easily believe our own hype. We can mistake our comfort or our achievement for spiritual goodness. At the beginning of the Second Vatican Council, for instance, seeing all the pomp and worldly glory of the first Masses and opening ceremonies of the Council, the great Dominican theologian, Yves Congar, said the Church looked \u201cprestigious and infatuated with itself, imprisoned in its own myth.\u201d[8]<\/a> Sometimes I think the Church hasn\u2019t changed at all, only our tastes a little.<\/p>\n Anyway, I am only musing\u2014and rather confusedly\u2014out loud about problems in the Church and in my own ministry; nothing special or horrible, just ordinary problems. History lets us know how little and ordinary our problems are. But it\u2019s just that when I read the story of Jesus, of how he got upset and made a whip to drive out the corrupt, how he turned tables over, I can\u2019t help but easily understand why Jesus would have done that. Because perhaps, having made themselves too comfortable in the world, no longer provoking it, Jesus Christ did what he had to do; and that\u2019s cleanse the temple of all that was corrupt. Because that\u2019s just what God must do from time to time.<\/p>\n But here\u2019s where it gets tricky, where we need to be careful. Jesus entered the temple to cleanse it; and so, thinking of this story in terms of our present circumstances, we can easily begin to think about all the things we<\/em> think are wrong with the Church. Or we can even begin to think of this story in terms of all the things we<\/em> think are wrong with our society, our nation. And we can begin to think about Jesus coming on the scene in all his righteous fury to teach them<\/em> a thing or two, to set them<\/em> straight. It\u2019s tricky because if you meditate on this story in just slightly the wrong way, you can find yourself mired in politics and culture wars and silly ecclesiastical squabbles on Twitter; you can find yourself thinking about us<\/em> and them<\/em>, weaponizing the Gospel\u2014ruining it.<\/p>\n Which is why it\u2019s best to think of this story (at least at first) this way: as a story about you (about me too) but not about anyone else. Not yet. Yes, the Church needs cleansing, society needs redeeming, but it begins with you (and with me). You are a temple of the Holy Spirit.[9]<\/a> Will you welcome Jesus into the temple that is you\u2014to flip tables over and drive out what\u2019s corrupt in you? It must begin with you (and with me). Judgment begins at the \u201chousehold of God,\u201d the Bible says.[10]<\/a> \u201c[W]hy should I be judging outsiders?\u201d Paul asked the Corinthians.[11]<\/a> He was worried about the morality of Christians, not the rest of the world. We Christians should be worried about our own morality first; and I should be worried about my morality before worrying about yours. Those ten commandments are addressed to you before they\u2019re addressed to that person you silently judged yesterday. That\u2019s how the perspective changes once we see this story in terms of us\u2014of Jesus entering the temple that is you and the temple that\u2019s me.<\/p>\n Which is, I guess, the question. Do you want Jesus to enter the temple that is you? Do you think you\u2019d be able to stand it? Do you think you\u2019d be able to let him flip over the tables you\u2019ve got all your money on? Do you think you\u2019d be able to let Jesus point out where you\u2019re corrupt and where you need to change? Or am I too scared? Am I too comfortable? Am I afraid to provoke the world? These are very tough questions, which is probably why we so quickly deflect them and ask them of others. But we must learn to ask them of ourselves. For we won\u2019t be worth much for the kingdom of God until we do. Amen<\/em>.<\/p>\n [1]<\/a> Rainer Maria Rilke, The Complete French Poems<\/em>, 153<\/p>\n [2]<\/a> Rachel Corbett, You Must Change Your Life<\/em>, 263<\/p>\n [3]<\/a> Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, Salt of the Earth<\/em>, 82<\/p>\n [4]<\/a> John 15:19<\/p>\n [5]<\/a> Romans 12:2<\/p>\n [6]<\/a> 1 Corinthians 4:13<\/p>\n [7]<\/a> Revelation 4:16-17<\/p>\n [8]<\/a> Yves Congar, My Journal of the Council<\/em>, 93 (14 October 1962)<\/p>\n [9]<\/a> 1 Corinthians 6:19<\/p>\n [10]<\/a> 1 Peter 4:17<\/p>\n