"The facts, Ma'am, 'judge' the facts

 

Part of every baptized Christian’s prophetic role is to pass judgment on what’s taking place around us, calling good what is good and evil what is evil.  Yet in Luke’s gospel, the Lord tells the disciples –and us– “Stop judging and you will not be judged” (Luke 6:36-38).  Are we looking at a contradiction?

Fortunately, the English language provides us with a helpful way to clear this seeming contradiction.  We have two different verbs with the same root, but with two quite different meanings. The two verbs are critiquing and criticizing.

We critique performances, actions, works of art, writings; and in doing so we pass objective judgment on things.  When we criticize, we envisage persons and in so doing we pass subjective judgment on the goodness or wrongness of their intentions, which are often unknown to us.  We do need to critique, in order to avoid being uncritical or naive.  But in criticizing we’re setting ourselves up as judges of people’s intentions, which is the Lord’s prerogative: “the Father... has entrusted all judgment to the Son” (John 5: 22).

Part of the prophetic role of baptized Christians is precisely critiquing developments and actions taking place around us, while respecting the people involved.  Even within the Church we all bear a responsibility to critique positions and decisions taken.  But when we cross the line that separates critiquing from criticizing, we’re contributing to the existing polarization, which itself needs being critiqued, yet without criticizing those who hold different positions.

Another phrase in Luke’s gospel that resonates strongly with me is, “For the measure with which you measure will in return be measured out to you.”   I try to put into practice these wise words every single day of my life and I’m intentional in using a “measure” that doesn’t measure anything but instead welcomes, with as much compassion as I have, the other in her or his own beauty.  Not because I expect to be measured the same way, but more because my parents (and life) taught me that the approach of respect, forgiveness, valuing the others’ value and my genuine willingness to let the others be, has brought me to the opportunity to meet wonderful people who have enriched my life in a unique way. 

I’m far from being where I would like to be in terms of true forgiveness and judging or—to be honest, not judging.  As I examine and reflect on my life on a daily basis, I try to adjust my thoughts and behavior to get closer to my ideals.  Something that’s helped me to reach my goals has been to approach people who at first glance may be out of my comfort zone.  I then try to establish a conversation so that I may discover something I hadn’t seen before.  This process is not easy at all for me and I can’t always follow through, but when I do it, 99.9% of the times does work wonderfully!

Another approach I’ve also tried is to read (blogs, magazine articles, books) that at first glance, I would not choose or think I would disagree with.  This exercise has helped me to see other points of view and logics, and while I may disagree with them, at least I’m aware they exist.  This helps me to see the world and people in different ways and makes me re-define how I “measure” (or, better, how I should avoid measuring).

My prayer today is for all of us to be wise and full of love whenever we’re facing a situation in which we have to measure or judge.

Experiencing the Transfiguration through prayer

 

Imagine walking up a high mountain with Jesus and a few close friends.  Jesus’ appearance is radically changed; His clothes dazzling white, and He’s talking with Moses and Elijah.  What a feeling Peter, James, and John must have experienced!  (Mark 9:2-10)

Every time we pray, we go to a potential mountain of transfiguration, an experience of transformational divine encounter.  As we open our hearts in prayer, God is revealed to us, sharing love and truth, light and life.  The divine voice calls to us:  "This is my beloved Son.  Listen to Him."

And, like Jesus’ disciples at the Transfiguration, we want to stay there forever and savor this special taste of Jesus’ glory.  We’re like children in the best candy store imaginable!

Each Lent Jesus invites us to new moments of grace, new experiences of His transfigured glory.  We need not hurry this special prayer opportunity.  Together with the other penitential and sacrificial aspects of our Lenten journey, we can be slowly transformed, and our faith strengthened; God’s love can radiate from our deeds as well as our words.

Jesus bids us to walk with Him these days.  May our eyes and our hearts be open to His powerful presence.

There is no "in-between"

Life in our world has many sorts of enmity.  Enmities between a husband and wife on the brink of divorce, bullies and their victims, a person betrayed by a friend, or a child abused by a parent.  Enmities between nations at war or adversaries in civil war.  Between cheaters and cheated, criminals and victims.  Among the wealthy and among the poor, and between rich and poor.  Enmities between “maskers” and “non-maskers”, “vaxxers” and “anti-vaxxers”.  Between Democrats and Republicans.  Whatever the sort, only two options occur to me as possible for those embroiled in enmity; either let it be or deal with it.  There really isn't any "in between."

Letting an enmity be will likely make it worse.  Recrimination will increase.  Old hurts will get bruised and new ones will be perpetrated.  Grudges and resentments will fester.  Violence and bloodshed may even happen.  And all this will occur for the enemies on both sides of a divide.

Dealing with the enmity requires both parties to turn their faces to one another and listen.  Each needs to acknowledge to the other their own responsibility for the division, and to forgive the hurt and misunderstanding the other has caused—more or less in that order.   When all this takes root—on both sides –genuine reconciliation, which consists of deep-down mutual forgiveness, becomes a real possibility.   But sometimes it will occur only with the grace of God.  If that’s the case, then both sides will benefit from praying for the grace to reconcile.

For reconciliation to stick, the process needs to grow towards mutual love.  This is more than mutual tolerance or respect.  Love, in a situation where reconciliation has begun and is maturing will consist of not just words but especially in deeds:  public acknowledgement of the dignity and goodness of the other (praise), revering the other in their dignity and goodness, and supporting the other by helping them to heal, reconstruct damaged relationships, and otherwise serving them.

To come to a point of praising, revering, and serving an enemy one needs to experience the mutual forgiveness and healing which reconciliation makes possible.  Then, as reconciliation flourishes, union of hearts and minds becomes a desired goal to work for, and the love that results will abide.  When union and love are achieved, they become the doorway to peace, deep and enduring peace -- which is the polar opposite of enmity.

I think heeding the words of Christ from Matthew’s gospel strikes at the root of enmity:  "You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.  But I say to you, love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your heavenly Father, for he makes his sun rise on the bad and the good, and causes rain to fall on the just and the unjust" (Matthew 5:43-48).

This is the love that God wants to give grace for when we’re experiencing enmity, the same love Our Lord gave words to from the cross: "Father, forgive them, they do not know what they are doing" (Luke 23:34). 

It's time!

 

Forgiveness is a gift from God.

The prophet Ezekiel lets us know that God’s judgment of us is an instantaneous, on-going activity.  God doesn’t keep a balance sheet of our good deeds and evil actions like your friendly bank keeps a record of debits and credits.  We often times reason that as long as we keep the good deeds (credits) ahead of the evil deeds (debits) we ought to be God’s special chosen ones for eternal glory. This is the human way of reasoning which people believe would be the fairest.  It might be true in the human way of justice but it’s far from God’s plan of mercy.  “’Do I indeed derive any pleasure from the death of the wicked?’ says the Lord God. ‘Do I not rather rejoice when he turns from his evil way that he may live?’” (Ezekiel 18:21-28)

Simply put, God’s way says that if a person rejects his life of evil and he turns back to the Lord that person will live.  And if the virtuous man turns from his way of virtuous deeds and accepts the way of evil, he will surely die.  This is why the Lenten Season is so important in the plans of God.  It should convince us of what a tremendous grace he provides for us by asking us to participate in the Lenten observance.  Lent is the season of God’s mercy.  It’s God’s way and the fairest way to welcome back any of us who have allowed our lives to stray from him in careless ways or by unfortunate tragic turns.

It’s easy to get angry, to let hurtful words fly or commit hurtful actions.  Then we’re caught in a web.

"You do forgive us and for that we revere you...for it is with Yahweh that mercy is to be found" (Psalm 130:1-8)

God, who loves us unconditionally, can easily forgive us.   We, though made in God's image, have a hard time forgiving one another.  It’s really God's grace in us that enables us to forgive.

I remember reading a book a few years back that was a powerful testament to the gift of forgiveness.  Immaculee Ilibegiza of Rwanda tells a powerful story of horror and forgiveness in "Left to Tell".  Tutsis had murdered her parents and brother and thousands of others in 1994.  For 91 days she and 7 other Rwandan women hid in a sheltered bathroom of a Hutu Pastor.  She could hear the murderers of her family searching the Pastor's house looking for her and others.  She felt deep anger and hatred in her heart.  She prayed for hours.  In the darkness, she dug deeply into God within her and found the compassion to forgive them.  It’s fitting that she now travels the world telling her story of anger turned to forgiveness through God's love.

With whom are we angry?  Do we want to forgive?  Or do we have a need to hold a grudge?  Do we "want to be right or be happy"?  To be happy, one has to let go of old angers and forgive.

Forgiveness happens in layers, especially when it’s a huge or deep hurt.  We can forgive him, or her, or them and years later a triggering event happens, and the old wound resurfaces.  Again, we pray to forgive, and it happens---until the next similar hurt.

Our hurts remind us that we’re fragile human beings.  We need God's love in our hearts that creates an openness to see and say, "I am/was wrong".  We need God's love to open us to forgiving and being forgiven.

When I read the Gospel of Matthew today, I found it to be full of dire warnings of the punishment that will be meted out to those who break the peace with their siblings, and, presumably, other family members and friends.  One could easily focus entirely on this threatened punishment, and thereby lose the beginning words of the passage, words of Jesus to His disciples.  He says: "I tell you, unless your righteousness surpasses that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will not enter into the Kingdom of heaven." (Matthew 5:20-26)

Jesus is quite explicit in calling for a righteousness that goes beyond the requirements of the law, and the law as interpreted by the teachers of the times.  Jesus uses the example in the setting of the religious worship before God’s altar of sacrifice.  “Do not presume to offer your gift if your heart is turned away from your brother or sister.  First go and be reconciled.”

The recognition that we’re all sinners, coupled with the development of the sacrament of Penance as the ordinary means of being reconciled with the church, is an invitation for us all to enter into the season of Lent with penance on our minds.

Jesus says that our righteousness must be beyond the formal, public, accepted standards-those that are expressed in the common tradition of the faithful.  Instead, Jesus cites the example of a truly personal recognition of one’s need to have a conversion of heart with regard to one’s neighbor.

What a wonderful invitation to each of us to leave our gift at the altar, to suspend our self-righteousness, and to pursue a true reconciliation with whomever: brothers, sister, friend, co-worker, boss, or the anonymous stranger whose eyes touch your conscience.

Is it time to forgive or to ask for forgiveness?  This is Lent.  It’s a good time.

Synonyms for prayer

 

Scriptures affirm for us that prayer is a dynamic relationship between God and ourselves.  In the Book of Esther she risks her life by interceding for her people.  Her prayer is "My Lord, my King, you alone are God.  Help me, who am alone and have no help but you." (Esther 18:21-28).  In the parable of the annoying neighbor, who has unexpected guests, we admire his persistence and his neighbor’s acquiescence (Matthew 7:7-12).  First, one of the lessons Matthew is communicating is that "persistence" in prayer is an admirable quality.  Second, and more important is that it’s not "persistence" that wins the day.  It’s the relationship that we have with God.  God is a loving parent and because of this wants to provide what we most need.

Matthew has chosen very precise words to speak of the importance of prayer.  The words ask, seek, and knock are all used in the Hebrew Scriptures as synonyms for prayer.   This is true not only in the Scriptures, but also in all our lives.  We all find ourselves "asking" God for our simplest daily needs: to finish a task, to keep an appointment on time, to finish an exam, to pass a test.  Sometimes we ask for daily needs we can’t even find words to express.  That a loved one will be healed of an illness, an injury, an addiction.   At times in our asking we’re like a child "with no language but a cry."   Yet somehow faith assures us our cry is heard and God will respond.   At other times we "seek."   We’re like the student of life who is seeking answers; unsure what the right question may even be.  But in our ignorance and thirst for an answer we’re sure God understands our question and gives the needed response.  Because of this assurance we enter deeply into the mystery of life and carry the sufferings and hopes of our family and friends with us confident that God is a loving parent who provides for our needs.  Sometimes we need to "knock" because our words are too weak.  Like the prophet Qoheleth (Ecclesiastes), we stand pounding at the door of separation and injustice until our knuckles are bleeding.  We knock in the darkest night praying that the door of life is beyond the perceived door of death.  God is the Door of Life and is opened to all who ask, seek, and knock.   Matthew says God will give all "good things" for those who ask.  Luke says God will give "the Holy Spirit." (Luke 11:13).  Hopefully, "good things" and the "Holy Spirit" are the fruit of our asking, our seeking, our knocking – our prayer.

Beyond imagination

The prospect of a "miracle" catches the attention of most any human being.  Perhaps a physical healing, a financial turn-around, the avoidance of a "sure" accident, either for ourselves or a loved one; Sure! Thank you, Jesus!

The people in Luke’s Gospel were looking for some such miracle from Jesus, some spectacular proof of His claims to selfless goodness and truth.  But Jesus refused to give any extraordinary sign; His soulful preaching of God’s word was enough (Luke 11:29-32).  Even the pagans of Nineveh accepted Jonah’s preaching of reform — and Jonah could in no way match the personal power of Jesus’ words! (Jonah 3:1-10)

As people of faith, we once in a while wish for some extraordinary sign from God to confirm our faith and help us get ahead.  "Oh if God would only let me get that job…win that lottery…lose some weight…cure that cancer…"  

Mostly we live by the "ordinary" signs of God’s activity in our lives:  His presence to us in the Holy Eucharist, the Sacred Scriptures, and in the lives of one another…"ordinary," yet oh so special!

The Lenten season encourages us to seek a renewal of heart, an openness to God’s redemptive presence in all aspects of life.  In our fast-paced world, it may take a "miracle" to get us to stop and pay attention:  to take a "time-out" and go deeper in our lives. 

Rather than clamor for an attention-grabbing miracle, perhaps we can quietly accompany Jesus to the desert for an experience of spiritual conversation and enrichment, or we can join Him at the table of the Eucharist for a weekday celebration, or accompany Him as He reaches out to the needy person we meet during our day.  And, it’s amazing how these Lenten practices can lead us to ponder the Cross of Jesus — the "sign" of God’s miraculous love for us and our world.  Jesus’ love is greater than we could ever ask or imagine!

What’s in a word?

What’s in a word?  Words heal and hurt; words craft peace and declare war; words encourage and prohibit; words instruct, inform and invite.  Words forgive; words bear the soul and reveal the heart.  In Scripture, it’s evident that the word of God is purposeful and fulfilling; that the word, who is God, is faithful.

In Isaiah we read: “So shall my word be that goes forth from my mouth; it shall not return to me void, but shall do my will, achieving the end for which I sent it.”  (Isaiah 55:10-11)

During this season of Lent we must have the ears to hear the word of God and choose our words of response carefully.  We must allow the word from God to achieve its desired results.  We must not block out God’s word with a cacophony of our own words, or as Matthew says, “babbling like the pagans.” We must listen and wait for God to speak. (Matthew 6:7-15)

Matthew says as much in his familiar passage where Jesus is instructing His followers how to pray.  “The Our Father” has a personal meaning for each of us as we experience its power in our own life.  During Lent this prayer takes on an added urgency.

The Lord’s Prayer invokes God to manifest His glory by an act of power, in this case, by the establishment of His kingdom in its fullness. This can only be accomplished through the actions of the end-game of Lent—the passion, death and resurrection of the Messiah. And as we pray Lent, we move closer to the establishment of that kingdom on earth, in each of us, as well as in heaven.

We pray: “Our Father in heaven” as an invocation found in the rabbinic prayers after the time of Jesus.  It establishes our personal relationship to God. 

We pray: “Hallowed is thy name” understood as reverence done to God by human praise and obedience to God’s will.

We pray: “Your kingdom come” turning towards divine rather than human action.

We pray: “Give us today our daily bread” is a petition for a speedy coming of the kingdom, which is often portrayed in both Old and New Testament under the image of a feast.

We pray: “Forgive us our debts” – which is a metaphor of “sins/trespasses” – at the final judgment.

So we go back to Isaiah and recall his words, “that just as the rain and the snow come down and does not return until that have watered the earth…giving seed to him who sows and bread to him who eats, just so the word of God will not return to God void.”

The words of “The Our Father” are divine in inspiration and hence purposeful in intent.  When we pray them they yield new life in each of us and thus fulfill God’s purpose.  The journey that is Lent opens before us bounteous opportunities to experience the word of God as purposeful and life-giving.

The chair of St. Peter

 Faith is a gift from God, as Jesus teaches in His response to Peter's profession that Jesus is "the Christ, the Son of the Living God." 

The Father is the source of Peter's inspiration and knowledge.  The Father gives the gift to Peter.  Peter must make his act of the will to declare it to Jesus.  What follows is the defining mission for Peter.  He is the rock upon which Jesus will build His Church. (Matthew 16: 13-19)

Because of the struggles that have marred the Church over the years, there are Christian communities that reject the Pope, the Bishop of Rome, as the current occupant of the Chair of Peter.  However, in some circles there’s hope that our Lord's desire the night before He died that we all be one is closer than ever before: "I pray not only for them, but also for those who will believe in me through their word, so that they may all be one, as you, Father, are in me and I in you, that they also may be in us, that the world may believe that you sent me." (John 17:21)

The work of the Holy Spirit, which our Lord left us, is at work in us and among us, when we work together in service of others, in unity and peace.  The gates of hell won't prevail in dividing us forever. It’s so clear in the last chapter of John's gospel that the mission of service which Jesus gives to Peter, and all those who sit in his chair, is one of feeding His sheep. (John 21:15-17)

When we’re baptized into Jesus, we all take on this shepherding, feeding, serving, uniting mission as well. 

However we use our gifts, as parents, business people, or the elderly - whatever our state of life and way of life - we all share this role of helping our Lord's desire come true.

God keeps His covenant forever!

 

The beginning of human history was a time of growing and a deepening process of human wickedness.  In the story of Genesis, God decided it would be better to start over again.  The waters of the flood returned the earth to the chaotic conditions from which it first emerged, but what came out of the flood was something new and greater, the first explicit covenant of God with His material and human creation, a covenant extended to all, by which God bound Himself to keep the process going, not to destroy His creation again (Genesis 9:8-15).

The earliest Christians also experienced a time of crisis and trial.  They were dispersed through the pagan world, living in small communities, threatened by persecutions.  Peter reminded those who were suffering that, as Jesus suffered and was put to death on the cross, He also rose from the dead (1 Peter 3:18-22).  Today, as in Peter’s time, we too are reminded that as we share in the cross of Christ, we will also share in His resurrection.

Jesus went out into the desert to take time in solitude and prayer in order to confront difficult choices of His life and the reality of evil, yet He remained in the sustaining presence of God (Mark 1:12-15).

If even Jesus required this time in solitude, how much more do we!  Very few of us can find the time and opportunity to endure even one desert day; yet somehow, we need to find time to be alone with God, to be totally present to God in prayer, to reflect, to reassess where we are before our God and just spend time with our loving God.

A good prayer for us in found in the Psalms: "Your ways, O Lord, make know to me; teach me your path, guide me in your truth, and teach me, for you are God my savior." (Psalm 25:4-9)

God’s way is delight and joy

 

Contemplating the Lord calling Levi (Matthew) [Luke 5:27-32], I imagine He’s not meeting Levi for the first time.  He’s probably walked closely by him several times – maybe often.  Perhaps He’s stopped for a friendly talk with him on occasion.  For his part, Levi has no doubt heard a lot about Jesus through the grapevine, and likely studied Him whenever He walked by.  Suddenly, Levi is struck with the thought, “Why am I doing this?  Why am I, a Jew, working for the Romans by taxing my Jewish neighbors, cheating them in the process?  What about this Jesus?  He’s a good man—I like Him!  I’d love to know him better.  I’d like to be with him for a while.  That would be great.  Maybe He could help me turn my life around.”

I can imagine at this point Christ comes by again, and Levi looks straight at Him.  Jesus responds: “Follow me.”  Levi abruptly stops, stands up, and walks away with Jesus, leaving everything behind.   Levi was ready.

These may or may not be like the circumstances of Levi's call, but from the gospel text we know Levi was indeed ready to follow Our Lord.  All he needed was the invitation.

I find great comfort in knowing that Jesus has come for me as, "All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God" (Romans 3:23). 

While I strive to follow Him by loving him, obeying him and trusting in him, I sometimes fall short, stumbling, making mistakes, failing.  On this Saturday after Ash Wednesday, I find myself reflecting on how I can live a more sacrificial life.  Asking, what can I do to grow closer to God this Lenten season?

The prophet Isaiah reminds us to honor the sabbath (Isaiah 58:9-14).  Keeping the sabbath means giving up our ways and giving back to God.  The beginning of our Lenten journey is a good time to think about what we want to give back to God and how to do it.  Isaiah instructs us to not have somber demeanor and long faces, to instead "call the sabbath a delight…" and to not follow our own ways.

It seems clear when we look at our lives that God’s way is a way of delight and joy.  Every time we think only of ourselves and look to "fulfill" ourselves or find ourselves, we come up empty.  When instead we turn to God’s ways – when we do God’s works, when we feed the poor, and love our neighbor – we’re filled with the delight that Isaiah speaks about.

Whenever we try to find happiness in getting "more" for ourselves, relieving our own "suffering" or finding ways to always be more "comfortable" – we fail.  On the other hand, when we do God’s work, when we care about others, we too can be filled with happiness and joy in the Lord!

Luke reminds us to repent.  Maybe one of things we should repent this lent is our somber demeanor and long faces and seeking only our self-interest.

Let’s enter into this season of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving filled with delight in the Lord!

What kind of fasting does God want?

 

As is customary during this period of spiritual preparation known as Lent, many of us have made the commitment to give up something pleasurable for the 40 days until Easter arrives.  Such a decision should be a personal, meaningful promise between each individual and our God.

But here we are, only two days into the season, and I wonder how many of our co-workers and friends already know what great sacrifice we are making?  In how many instances have we already complained of having to do without this comfort, whether it be some food or other superficial luxury like television or coffee?  Or perhaps even worse, what sort of bargain have we secretly made with ourselves that in giving up one thing we may over-indulge in something else?  I remember one year giving up Diet Coke, telling myself it would be OK to drink another flavor soft drink.  Another year, I gave up Diet Coke, thinking to replace it with beer (not one of my favorite spiritual moves!).  The worst year I had was when I said I was giving up meat.  I lasted about 2 weeks, complaining to anyone and everyone every miserable day.

The Scriptures I meditated on today reflect common themes in Jesus’ teaching; ones that are particularly relevant as we prepare for the Resurrection of our Lord.  In Isaiah, the Israelites are dutifully offering penances and observing days of ritual fasting.  On the surface, such supposed respect and devotion might seem like the mark of a pious and faithful people.  But the prophet tells us that while making these offerings, they’re constantly looking for recognition from above, "Why do we fast and you do not see it?  Afflict ourselves and you take no note of it?"  (Isaiah 58:1-9).  We might ask how righteous could the intent of their actions be if they are so preoccupied with the reward?

Lest we think we can somehow fool our Lord by these outward signs of devotion, we must remember that our hearts are fully known to Him.  While the Israelites offer up rituals and fasts, they also "quarrel" and "fight," oppress their workers and exploit the poor.  They make sure that their sacrifice is known to their neighbors by hanging their heads and adorning themselves in "sackcloth and ashes."  But this isn’t the type of offering that our God asks of us.

Clothe the naked.  Feed the hungry.  Shelter the homeless.  Care for your family.  Free the unjustly imprisoned.  The Lord says, "This is the fasting that I wish."  (Isaiah 58:5).  Lent is far more than mere observances on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday.  It’s healing the "wound" of our sinfulness by living our faith of love, compassion and respect.  Only then will our light shine, will we be vindicated and will our Lord answer resoundingly, "Here I am!"

In Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus admonishes those who question His disciples’ failure to fast, saying "The attendants of the bridegroom cannot mourn as long as the bridegroom is with them, can they?"  The disciples don’t fast because God is in their midst.  The time for fasting will come when "the bridegroom is taken away."  With these few words, Jesus reveals the true intention of such ritual offerings-searching and longing to be closer to God. (Matthew 9:14-15)

In a nutshell, fasting is undertaken for the sake of right relationships and solidarity with those who suffer unjustly in this world.  Fasting can easily lend itself to hypocrisy. When hypocrisy becomes a way of life, then no amount of fasting will wash away our guilt.

As we’re finding out almost daily now, our political culture is particularly susceptible to hypocrisy. Those who hold public trust will sometimes say one thing and do another, live a public life of rectitude and a private life of wrongdoing.  It becomes easy for us to have a public face and private life. That’s what Isaiah was speaking about.  We can sometimes fall into the trap of thinking, “if these famous people do this, why is it wrong for me to do the same thing?”

Maybe the greater lesson here then is about where we find Jesus—where is He present?  He’s not present in the hypocrisy of showy, outward acts of piety with no substance.  He is in the pain and suffering of the sick, the naked, the homeless and all those in need.  So as we begin this Lenten season, let’s seek to find Him there.

An abundance of weakness

Marilyn and I got our second dose of the COVID-19 vaccination yesterday (Ash Wednesday).  I’ve been praying to God that we get the shots so that we can return to a “normal” life sooner, rather than later.  At the same time, I’ve been dreading getting them because of all of the talk about side effects.  I’m such a weakling when it comes to pain, even if it’s just a little discomfort.

Upon reflection on the scriptures for the first Thursday after Ash Wednesday, with my fears in mind, I keep going back to one basic question:  What’s the one thing we all have in great abundance that God wants?  Indeed, God seems to beg us to give this one thing to Him because He doesn’t have it.  It’s our weakness.  Saint Paul puts it eloquently.  “But he said to me, my grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9).

Yesterday, with the simple ritual of ashes for many, we began our Lenten journey.  The ashes aren’t a sign of our holiness.  Rather, they’re a symbol of our weakness.  They mean that if we want to follow Jesus, we must die to ourselves, lose our lives, our weakness, in His grace and power (Luke 9:22-25).  That’s the journey of repentance, of metanoia.  Lent is the time to change our hearts, our minds – and our direction – in order to follow Christ.

But metanoia isn’t easy.  On the contrary, we’re rather skilled at disguising our weaknesses as strengths, even as virtues.   Aren’t perfectionists virtuous at heart?  They’re just trying to make things right, to follow the rules.  And when someone breaks a rule, they’re ready to correct them, to “improve them.”  It’s for their own good.  But watch out.  When the rule-breaker doesn’t listen, the perfectionist gets angry.  Or what’s wrong with someone who wants to love and care for us?  Nothing, unless they demand love – and recognition – in return.  When they don’t get it, then love becomes manipulative.  Those who demand that kind of love will carry our cross – and then send us the bill.

It’s only when we die to ourselves and the ego that disguises our weakness for virtue, only when we lose our lives in the life of Christ that we will be strong in the truest sense of the word.

During this Lenten season, we’re invited to take up our cross.  It’s the cross of our weakness.  We’re called to follow Jesus.  It’s the way of metanoia, when in grace we change our direction.

“Blessed are they who hope in the Lord!”  (Psalm 40:5) 

A legacy of prayer

 

It’s a human desire to want meaning in our lives and our deaths.  We want to make a difference, and to leave a legacy behind.  A legacy which has been passed down in my family for generations, and which I hope to pass on to my children and grandchildren is the comfort and power of true prayer.

Prayer, of course, is much more than saying prayers.  It’s not only saying the rosary, or meditating upon Scripture, or reciting beautifully composed prayers.  Prayer is ultimately a relationship with God.  It’s an encounter with the Triune God Who dwells within us.  True prayer is an act of love between us and our Beloved.  It’s an exchange of persons: our life for God’s.  Prayer is an act of union and communion by which we become one with God and God becomes one with us.

The great mystics have taught us that there are many levels to prayer. We often begin with the recitation of prayers, such as the beautiful prayer of the rosary.  From there we meditate, ponder and reflect deeply upon the mysteries of our Lord and His life.  We come to know Him more fully and, little by little, discover that we’re no longer just thinking about God, but we’re gazing at Him face to face.

One of the most important parts of true prayer is that it takes place deep in the inner room of our soul.  It’s there in the inner depths of our being that we will meet God.  Saint Teresa of Ávila, one of the greatest spiritual writers in the history of our Church, described the soul as a castle in which God dwells.  Meeting Him, praying to Him and communing with Him requires that we enter into the deepest and innermost chamber within this castle of our soul.  It’s there, in the innermost dwelling, that the full glory and beauty of God is discovered.

God isn’t just a God who is “out there” far away in Heaven.  He’s a God Who is closer and more intimate than we could ever imagine.  Lent is a time, more than any other time of the year, when we must strive to make that journey inward so as to discover the Indwelling of the Most Holy Trinity.

What does God want of us this Lent?  It’s easy to begin Lent with more superficial commitments, such as giving up a favorite food or doing an extra good deed.  Some choose to use Lent as a time to get in better physical shape, and others decide to dedicate more time to spiritual reading or other holy exercises.  All of this is good and useful.  But the deepest desire of our Lord for us this Lent (and always!) is that we pray.

We’re told not to receive the grace of God in vain.  While some of us may be called to do so, that doesn’t mean we have to proselytize on the street corners, or even work for the church.  It doesn’t mean we have to lead fund-raising drives or be in the news.  It certainly doesn’t mean we need to ensure we garner attention and praise for our service or our faith practices.

In fact, more often than not, it means we lead quiet lives focused on being fully transparent instruments of the grace we’ve received.  It means we rend our hearts, not our garments, and allow God to change and mold us.  It means we pray constantly, give alms, and love without measure.  It means we consciously look for the divine in every person, even those who are different from ourselves, and that we treat each one with the dignity and respect due to Christ Himself.  It means we receive our “recognition” in smiles, hugs, and the knowledge that the love we give will be given to someone else in return.

To turn to God is to turn to life. To turn away from God is to turn away from life.  Lent pivots on these two truths, truths we’re all (unfortunately) good at denying.  Lent reminds us that we’re commanded to love God wholeheartedly and our neighbors as ourselves because there’s no other path to life.  But we frequently live and act as if this weren’t the case.  We become experts at self-sabotage because we develop ways of being that pull us further away from all that is life.  We’re miserable.  We’re more dead than alive.  But after a while we see no way to move from death back to life.

The way back to life is surprisingly simple.  A passage from the prophet Joel puts it succinctly: “Even now, says the Lord, return to me with your whole heart.” (Joel 2:12-18).  Saint Paul pleads with us, even begs us: “We implore you, in Christ’s name: be reconciled to God!” (2 Corinthians 5:20-6:2).  And the gospel, with its triple warning against performing religious acts in order to be seen, counsels us instead to “go to your room, close your door, and pray to your Father in private,” (Matthew 6:1-18) assuring us that in that quiet, intimate moment we’ll discover what it means to be fully known and fully loved, and, therefore, fully alive.

That’s wonderful news, news worth celebrating.  And so, on this first day of Lent, let the cheering begin!

Eyes to see and ears to hear

 

There’s been an unusually high level of “noise” in our lives this past year; the pandemic, election year politics, social unrest, crazy weather patterns—you name it, we’ve seen it this year.  For many of us, it’s been difficult to sort through all of it, retain our sanity, and focus on what is most important—our everlasting souls.  I’ve been finding peace within my own soul by daily reading of the Scriptures and reflections.  After 67 years on this earth, I have many experiences in life that have helped me develop an ability to see underneath a lot of commotion most of the time. 

Children who are experiencing many things for the first time in their young lives, have no idea that the adults watching them can often see right through them.  As an adult we may be chuckling and saying to ourselves, "Been there.  Done that."

Teenagers are usually a little more difficult to read.  They often feel that they’re surrounded by a secret shield that makes the adult world stand in shock and a state of dumbfounded-ness.  Parents, because of their emotional involvement with their own teenagers, can lose some of this adult perception and begin to pull out their hair in frustration.  It may take a little more intuitive ability, but teenagers aren’t that hard to read with regards to their basic patterns of growth.  Each new generation seems to need to reinvent the wheel.

A certain contemplative ability comes with age and experience.  However, there are much more profound levels of life harvesting intuitions that must be developed with prayer and reflection and the guidance of the Holy Spirit.  We need to dwell with suffering; get inside and abide in the human heart; feel the pain and loneliness of others; meditate on the passion and death of Jesus; learn more about other cultures and how people feel and live their lives there.  We try not to let life just pass us by as a blur.  We try to intuit the heart of what is happening.

Scripture reveals this contemplative ability in God.  In Genesis, God not only sees how great the external wickedness of man was, but He also saw "how no desire that his heart conceived was ever anything but evil, he regretted that he had made man on the earth, and his heart was grieved."  But God, able to read hearts, knew the goodness of heart of Noah and his family (Genesis 6:5-8, 7:1-10).

In the Gospel of Mark, the disciples, in the boat, were all befuddled when Jesus began speaking about the leaven of the Pharisees and the leaven of Herod.  They concluded that Jesus spoke these words because they forgot to bring enough bread for the crossing.  As He did so often, Jesus must have shook His head in amazement at their lack of understanding.  But reading their hearts and seeing their inner darkness and confusion, He responded, "Are you hearts so hardened?  Do you have eyes and not see, ears and not hear?” (Mark 8:14-21)

Seeds of doubt and confusion are all around us.  It seems these days that almost everything the secular world promotes is in some way contrary to the Kingdom of God.  And yet, just like the disciples’ inability to see the evil leaven of the Pharisees and Herod, we also frequently fail to see the evil leaven within our society.  Instead, we allow the many errors to confuse us and lead us down the path of secularism.

One thing this should teach us is that just because someone has some form of authority or power within society doesn’t mean that they’re a truthful and holy leader.  And though it’s never our place to judge the heart of another, we absolutely must have “ears to hear” and “eyes to see” the many errors that are held up within our world as good.  We must constantly seek to “understand and comprehend” the laws of God and use them as a guide against the lies within the world.  One important way to make sure we do this well is to make sure that our hearts never become hardened to the truth.

The eyes we use to see and the ears we use to hear must lead us beyond the mere externals and help us to read the inner dimensions of what we’re experiencing.  We’re all called to this kind of contemplation.  True, some seem to be highly gifted in this area and we love to read their reflections on life.  But we mustn’t underestimate our calling to do the same.

From the depth...

 

My reflection today brought home just how much God loves us by giving us the ability to choose.  There are no predetermined options, the way we live is up to us.  There are no illusions.  Our choices are on us.

Cain and Abel chose which sacrifices they would offer God (Genesis 4:1-25).  Abel’s choice of offering his “best firstlings of his flock” showed that his relationship with God was front and center.  Cain’s sacrifice—delivered “in the course of time”, communicated a different message.  God let them choose.  And even though Cain’s choice wasn’t the best, God still loved him by watching over him.

God’s love for us is so great that He’s still with us even when some of our choices aren’t so great.  

Jesus had performed many miracles.  He healed the sick, restored sight to the blind, hearing to the deaf and fed thousands with only a few fish and loaves of bread.  But even after all of that, the Pharisees came to argue with Jesus and demanded a sign from Heaven (Mark 8:11-15).

The response of Jesus was quite unique. “He sighed from the depth of his spirit…”  This sigh was an expression of His holy sorrow over the hardness of hearts of the Pharisees.  If they had the eyes of faith, they would have no need for yet another miracle.  And if Jesus would have performed a “sign from heaven” for them, even that wouldn’t have helped them.  And so Jesus did the only thing He could at that point—He sighed.

At times, this type of reaction is the only good one.  We may all face situations in life where others confront us with harshness and stubbornness.  When this happens, we’ll be tempted to argue with them, condemn them, try to convince them we’re right, and the like. But sometimes one of the holiest reactions we can have to the hardness of our heart of another is to experience a deep and holy sorrow.  We must also “sigh” from the depths of our spirits.

When one is hard of heart, rational talking and arguing will prove to be of little use.  Hardness of heart is also what we traditionally call the “sin against the Holy Spirit.”  It’s a sin of obstinacy and stubbornness.  In that case, there’s little or no openness to the truth.  When we experience this in the life of another, silence and a sorrowful heart are often the best reaction.  Their hearts need to be softened and our deep sorrow, shared with compassion, may be one of the only responses that can help make a difference.

"Show me the money," the line in the movie “Jerry Maguire” goes.  It’s a comedy, so we laugh. But how many other times in life do we act out of a sense that nothing means anything until the bottom line gets met, the payoff happens, the results are in, we get the proof we feel entitled to?

The truth is, at some point in our life most of us want something.  We want love, we want health; we want money, we want control; we want assurances, we want affirmation.  We want God to smile upon us, and, if it’s not too much trouble, we want the side dish of a sign so that we know we are loved and valued.  We test God often.

St. Paul of the Cross and St. Mother Teresa of Calcutta are two visionaries who lived lives of astonishing goodness and heartbreaking questioning.  They were given signs of their paths early on, and then groped in spiritual darkness for decades.  Somehow, they clung to their faith and remained true to the work God had called them to.  They "knew their place" before God, and foregoing all human demands and expectations, surrendered themselves to His will and to His love.

In these tough times as we, too, feel clueless, frightened or forgotten, that’s the real deal.

I do choose

 

My scripture reading today led me to think of all the ways people can feel like outcasts in their lives, especially in these COVID times.  There are those who have lost their jobs and are still finding it difficult to find another.  There are those who have had a relationship that ended.  There are others who feel devalued because of their age or economic status.  These things can be painful, because they often involve a sense of rejection, and a feeling of worthlessness.  Sometimes people engage in behaviors they know are self-destructive and even sinful, and they realize they have cast themselves out, as it were, from their true selves.

If you add to this the conflicts we see around the world, which are often based on one group seeking to “cast out” another because they are of the “wrong” race, or “wrong” faith, or “wrong” tribe, or “wrong” culture, or “wrong” gender, or “wrong” orientation.  This “casting out” is too often taken to the point of attempted genocide or extermination.

In the times of Jesus, lepers were outcasts, condemned to live in isolation, ostracized from family, community, worship, marginalized even from hope.  Levitical law also required them to remain a safe distance from the general population in order avoid spreading their contagious disease.  Some believed that leprosy was God’s punishment for sin (Leviticus 13:1-2, 44-46).

But the leper in Mark’s gospel was strikingly bold (Mark 1:40-45).  He disobeyed Levitical restrictions and came so close that Jesus could touch him.  “If you choose,” he told Jesus, “you can make me clean.”  Without hesitation, with compassion, boldly, even recklessly Jesus touched the leper and said: “I do choose.  Be made clean.”  Immediately, the leprosy left him.  Jesus ordered him to tell no one about this miracle, but to present himself to the priest to confirm that he was clean.  The man disobeyed.  He didn’t go immediately to the priest.  He didn’t remain silent to the miracle.  Instead, he went out and proclaimed it everywhere.

By contrast, Jesus reversed places with the once leprous man.  Jesus, who had traveled freely everywhere, now was forced into isolation to avoid the crowds.  He was forced to the margins.  In other words, Jesus took the place of the man He made clean.  Love always says and does what is necessary and works out the consequences later.

There’s another reversal to consider.  By touching the leper, Jesus should have been contaminated.  However, it wasn’t the leper who was contagious, but Jesus.  The leper didn’t transmit his disease to Jesus, but Jesus whose contagion of love transformed the leper to wholeness, making him clean, medically, spiritually and socially. 

When Paul calls us to imitate Christ (1Corinthians 10:31—11:1), on one level we could conclude we should follow His example to do what we can to help cure lepers and our sisters and brothers who suffer from physical and emotional pain.  Paul isn’t calling on us specifically to cure, though.  It seems to me he’s calling us to emulate Christ’s attitude – avoid offending people, acting not for self but for others, doing everything for the (greater) glory of God.  When we encounter pain and suffering, disfigurement and other physical woes in the person in front of us, Paul is challenging us to be an imitator of Christ.  Jesus wouldn’t walk away, He would engage.  Jesus wouldn’t recoil, He would embrace.  Jesus wouldn’t turn away His eyes, He would deeply connect.  Even if Jesus didn’t cure the physical pain, He would share the emotional turmoil and console.    

We’re called imitate the leper’s bold faith and Jesus’ loving touch.  Like them, it demands of us that we risk crossing barriers and boundaries of convenience and comfort zone in order to reach out to the other, the one living in pain or loneliness.  Such faith and love begin with the words, “I do choose.”