It's simple---or is it?

 

There’s a little story of a bishop who, when officiating at a Confirmation, asked the young people to explain the Trinity.  The class clown stood up and mumbled something quietly.  The bishop remarked, “I didn’t understand that.”  The kid spoke up louder, “You’re not supposed to, it’s a mystery.”  While the bishop and the rest of the congregation in attendance chuckled, the fact is that the Church has wrestled with all manner of ways to understand a “Three-Person” God.  It's a mystery that takes more faith than words to explain.  For most of my life, and I’ll bet for most people, “It’s a mystery” was enough.  That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try to understand the Holy Trinity on a deeper level because it is, as the Catechism states, “the central mystery of Christian faith and life.  It is the mystery of God in himself.”

We’ll never be able to grasp the reality of the Trinity – one God, three persons of Father, Son and Holy Spirit – until we experience the fullness of God’s love in our eternal life.  This hasn’t stopped us, though, from trying to get our heads around this idea of the Trinity.  Church history is filled with attempts to tie down its meaning, all of them coming up short and many of them earning heresy status.

If we’ve failed to tie down the mystery of the Trinity through theological concepts, we moved to analogy and art.  Just a few examples include the equilateral triangle; three intersecting circles; circle within a triangle; St. Patrick’s shamrock; and the famous icon by Andrei Rublev depicting three identical persons around one altar. Again, each comes up short.

But this shouldn’t surprise us.  Imagine trying to perfectly represent love.  Imagine being asked to define in words or a picture a relationship that grips us at the very core of our life.  The love of a parent for a child, the bond of husband and wife, or the friendship with the one who knows us best are beyond words, beyond art, beyond poetry, beautiful as they might be.  They always come up short.

Father, Son and Holy Spirit is the most real and profound relationship that exists.  The gospels tell the story of the Son of God sent by the Father to reveal the depth of God’s love for us, and how, through the Spirit, we’re sent – in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit – to love as we have been loved [Matthew 28:19, John 13:34].

We enter the mystery of this Trinitarian relationship just as we do in any other relationship.  We begin with a personal relationship, by coming to know the other and allowing the other to know us.  We begin by spending time with Jesus and opening ourselves up to Him.  When this happens, all our other relationships begin to reflect – even if imperfectly – the perfect relationship of love of Father, Son and Holy Spirit.  It all begins with the mystery of falling in love and allowing ourselves to be loved in return.

But...Do you love Me?

 

I consider myself somewhat a romantic.  As a result, I’m a sucker for a good musical (they’re best if performed live, but a good movie will suffice) and ‘Fiddler on the Roof’ has always been one of my favorites.  In this show two of the principal characters, Tevye and Golde, sing a duet.  The song is “Do you Love me.”  Tevye, who is married to Golde asks her, after these many years of marriage, “do you love me?”.  At first, she resists even answering; but he keeps asking and she then answers that for 25 years she has looked after him, cared for the family and done so many things, but she doesn’t use the words he longs to hear.  So, he asks again, and she replies, ‘I’m your wife’ and goes on to speak about the many aspects of their relationship – still stressing the actions she does for him – like being with him, sharing intimacy together etc.  Finally, after he persists, she says the word ‘love’.

In the end they both sing that saying they love each other may not change the way they’re together nor affect the many actions they do for each other, but it is ‘nice to know’.

Jesus and Peter might be said to have a similar dialogue in John’s Gospel [John 21:15-19].  Jesus wishes to reassure Peter that he’s close to Him, that He and Peter will share a bond of no less than love itself and that Peter for his part only need to assent to this.  Because we read this text translated to English, the word ‘love’ seems to be used equally by Jesus and Peter.  But in fact, Jesus and Peter are using different words for ‘love’.  It seems Peter can’t bring himself to use the same deep and intimate word for ‘love’ that Jesus is using, preferring instead to use a ‘softer’ word.  Finally, it’s Jesus who changes His terminology and uses Peter’s language so as to reach a point of unity and communion between them.

And the ‘assent’ that Jesus is seeking is one of the heart – not just an assent of mind and will.  This is so that Peter may be a true leader for the people; because leadership in the vision of Jesus requires not just competence, or energy and availability, true as they are, but it requires relational commitment to the people.  For Jesus to be a leader is to be a person with a heartfelt love for others and someone who lives only to serve.  This often also entails a sacrifice of self for others.

What’s more, Peter is being asked to now care for a flock that has become more sedentary and settled.  That is, we see it reflects the life of a Christian community that has lived in the light of the resurrection for many generations already and who are at home with the Spirit’s influence in their lives. The church in the Johannine vision is more established and requiring more attention to its internal needs.  Peter is being asked to exercise a ‘pastoral’ role and not only a missionary one (more suited to the evangelizing mission of the early church).  Thus, we see in the scene the movement from fishing (missionary work) to a commitment of ongoing pastoral care (and thus the symbolic image of the church as a flock needing care and nourishment i.e., ‘feed my sheep’).

This balance of the church missionary, and the church pastoral is one we live to this day.  Whether we serve the Lord in missionary outreach or in pastoral care of the community itself, let our actions always be a response to his call ‘Do you love me?”.  Let’s take consolation too in the reality that all our service will find its nourishment in the Eucharist – as does Peter in his meal on the beach with Jesus.

Slow down, listen, and discern

 

Early on in my management career I learned to set daily goals and create my “to do” lists.  On most days I was single-minded about getting those goals and tasks accomplished.  But I also found myself being frustrated when things went wrong or when stuff happened to prevent or limit my accomplishments.  Does this sound familiar to you?

“They traveled through the Phrygian and Galatian territory because they had been prevented by the Holy Spirit from preaching the message in the province of Asia.” [Acts 16: 1-10]

The early Church was most focused on preaching and teaching the gospel message resulting in the people growing in faith and increasing in numbers.  I find it most interesting that when things went wrong or didn’t go the way they thought it should, the early Christians saw this as a sign of the Spirit leading or preventing them from proceeding.  Usually, when things don’t go my way, I sometimes get frustrated or angry rather than discern that God’s Spirit is speaking to me and providing guidance.

I remember learning a prayer when I was very young that the CCD teacher told us would be a great morning “offering”: “O Jesus, through the Immaculate Heart of Mary, I offer you my prayers, works, joys, and sufferings of this day for all the intentions of your Sacred Heart.”

What if each of us begin each day offering our day and our “to do” lists to God and ask for attunement to the Spirit speaking to us.  Lord, help me to slow down, to listen and discern Your guiding and leading me this day.  Amen.

Belief and Trust

 

The overriding theme in my reflection on Scriptures today seems to be, our belief and trust in God.  A reading from Acts [Acts 13:26-33] made me stop and consider, “When in my life have I failed to recognize God or failed to see that an event was a blessing from God.”  It  also reminded me of my need to truly find God in all things and to stay prayerful in my journey, living life according to the example of Jesus and to follow God’s hopes and desires for me.

“Serve the Lord with fear and rejoice before him; with trembling rejoice.”  When I read this line in Psalms [Psalm 2:6-11] I got a feeling of overwhelming thankfulness for all that God has blessed me with, including a rich relationship and belief in the power of God.  I’m thankful for my past and current blessings and am thankful for blessings I know that I’ll receive in the future.

I love the stories about the relationship between Thomas and Jesus.  Early in my life I remember thinking, ”I wonder why Thomas had difficulty believing when he actually lived at the time of Jesus.”  For me, Thomas is that part of me which questions, “Is this my will or is this God’s will”.  “How do I know this is God’s will for me?” “Master, we do not know where you are going; how can we know the way?”  I have to remind myself about the power of quiet prayer.  I want to trust and go in “a way” that, if it’s God’s will for me, life will unfold according to His plan. “Do not let your hearts be troubled, you have faith in God; have faith also in me.” [John 14:1-6]

Exhortation

Paul offered a word of exhortation at the synagogue at Antioch after the readings of the law and the prophets [Acts13-13-25].  As I imagine what the setting might have been like, it seems to me that Paul was probably the guest preacher who gave a short sermon.  He was asked to present it in the form of an exhortation, a style of speaking that must have been a tradition for the church at Antioch.  An exhortation is an urgent appeal in language that’s intended to incite or encourage. It can also give warning or advice.  I tend to like sermons of this type that strongly urge me to listen to some important advice.  But not all pastors or priests use this sermon style.  Some, however, like Paul, are gifted at exhortation.  In fact, many of the rest of us also have the spiritual gift of exhortation.  If we’ve worked with children or youth, we’ve probably used it, but we don’t often use it with our peers.  But we should.  The gift of exhortation allows God to speak through us to call others to important action.

Paul exhorted the people of Antioch to make the connections between the promises God made to his people in the Old Testament and the Gospel message of Christ.  In the Gospel of John, Jesus exhorts His disciples to recognize the fulfillment of the Scriptures through Him.  He then encourages them to receive the Holy Spirit on behalf of God the Father through Him [John 13:16-20].  Where are we in all of this?  We’re like the people in Antioch and the disciples.  We’re exhorted to acts of repentance and faith.  We’re also exhorted to let God and the Holy Spirit work through us with humility, just as Jesus demonstrated humility when He washed His disciples’ feet.  Today I pray for those among us who have the gift of exhortation, to let God work through them that they may encourage and give warnings or advice to others.  I pray that we’re all exhorted to greater faith, repentance, and mission.

Spread the Word

 

After I started college, I was occasionally approached by Evangelicals who gave testimony and were in my face about whether I had been born again, accepted Jesus, and so on.  Back then, like a great many Catholics (I assume), I was a bit uncomfortable wearing my religion on my sleeve.  

The first time I heard people publicly confessing their sins and telling how they had found the Lord, I felt like I was watching them undress.  When they would demand to know the state of my soul before I could converse with them further, I had to strongly resist the urge to say MYOB.  It’s just the way I was raised, I guess. 

Today, when I read from Acts about how Barnabas and Saul “proclaimed the word of God in the Jewish synagogues” I wondered how I would have responded to them [Acts 12:24-13:5].  Probably a lot like I reacted to the Evangelicals giving testimony on my campus.  Most likely, I would have walked away, embarrassed for these nut cases.

Yet I believe as strongly as any Evangelical that Jesus was sent here to be our light and to light our way out of darkness [John 12:44-50].  Before Jesus it was all darkness, but Jesus is the manifestation of God’s word to save us.  He’s a beacon, illuminating the path, lighting the right way.  He’s our guide, our leader. Here to save us from the darkness, not to condemn us.  Before we were trapped in the darkness, but now there’s light, a way out.  Believing in Jesus is believing in God who sent Jesus.  And not believing keeps us trapped in the darkness of ignorance and despair.

Jesus comes, sent by the Father, on the authority of the Father, speaking the words of the Father.  He’s our savior—if we recognize who He is and where He comes from.  He will save us if we let Him, but if we’re condemned it’s by our own actions – our refusal to see the light and our determination to stay in darkness.  Jesus speaks God’s words of eternal life and shows us that light.  We choose light or darkness.

I think all of us who share this belief have an obligation to help spread it.  

There are many ways we can participate in that effort, most importantly by living the Gospel in our daily lives in countless small ways.  As a Christian, I have to make an effort to forgive those who have hurt me and to seek forgiveness from those I have injured.  I have to try to reach out to others in the ways that Jesus suggested through the spiritual and corporal works of mercy.

I’ll never be completely comfortable aggressively proclaiming my Christianity or trying to push it onto others.  But surely Jesus will understand if I try to overcome my many weaknesses and live as someone who takes His teachings seriously.

Imaginary letter "found"

 

Several times throughout the year, most commonly around Christmas and Easter, stories of “new” discoveries in the Holy Land surface on the internet, claiming to debunk some aspect of the life of Christ or another key tenet of Christianity.  With this in mind, and after reading some of John’s Gospel today [John 10:22-30], I thought it might be fun to write an imaginary letter that might have been sent from one of the apostles to a respected rabbi around the year 30 in Jerusalem (if in fact it had been written):

Dear Rabbi ­

I have heard you are a man of great learning, well-versed in the Torah and wise beyond telling.  My name is Thomas.  I’m part of a group of like-minded people who follow and listen to Jesus of Nazareth.  We’ve seen him perform wondrous things—healing the sick, curing long-time afflictions, changing water to wine, even raising the dead—all in the name of God.  We believe him to be a great man, one who is clearly blessed by and sent from God.  But many of us still aren’t sure who this Jesus is exactly.  Is He the Messiah?  A great prophet?  Some say He is divine, but that seems so blasphemous as to be beyond belief.

Today in the temple, some of the priests pressed Jesus with this question.  Practical men, they asked Jesus to simply say if He is in fact the Messiah.  I’ve been with Him for a while, and I sometimes wonder the same thing.  He doesn't always speak clearly, but teaches us in parables and examples, and doesn't always tell us what the lesson is.  So we argue and try to put our thoughts together, but we still don't always agree.  And many times, what He says He came to do doesn't sound a lot like what we think the Messiah is supposed to do.  Many of us want the Romans out of our land and for a resurgence of Israel, but He doesn't even talk of raising armies or seizing political power.

His answer today was more direct than normal.  He said He has told us in the past, and that His works testify to who He is.  I don't recall Him saying specifically in the past that He is the Messiah (although He has said things that imply He is the Chosen One), but then not all of us are with Him at all times.  I can testify that the people who come to hear Him and be touched by Him are in awe of His power to soothe their suffering, no matter what form it takes.  His works truly do make a difference in the lives of so many of the people in our land, Jew and gentile alike. He’s the best man I’ve ever known or heard of.

I understand what He means when He speaks of being a shepherd and that we are His sheep who follow Him.  But I need to understand more what He means when He says, "The Father and I are one."  So I’m still not sure who this Jesus is, but I know that I must keep following Him to learn more.  Perhaps you can help me in my doubts—who do you think He is?

Sincerely,

Thomas (Didymus)

Athirst for the living God

 

“As the hind longs for running waters, so my soul longs for you oh God.  Athirst is my soul for God the living God.” [Psalms 42:2-3; 43:3-4]

Have you ever noticed how readily people are drawn to sit near fountains in our parks and malls?  The sound and sight of running water is an image that naturally draws our attention and refreshes us.

Fountains, for me, help create an atmosphere that can bridge natural beauty with a sense of God’s supernatural beauty and life amid city noise and business.  God is at work in all creation laboring to refresh us.  The sound and sight of a fountain's running waters can assist us by inviting us to listen within for those streams of living waters, that can quench our deepest thirsts.

Jesus’ Spirit always desires to refresh us as that interior wellspring, that interior fountain that flows with satiating love for us.

A clear way to identify and receive this refreshment is to pay attention to our hearts deepest yearnings.  These desires reach out thirsting for true love.  So often we settle for less and foolishly try to quench our thirsts with material things, through overwork, or with ways of human relating that are at best utilitarian.

As we grow in wisdom and grace we begin to learn the ultimate paradox.  Our deepest yearnings, our thirsts that reach out to be satisfied are best satisfied whenever we freely choose to remain empty.  Instead of allowing our yearnings to be focused primarily on the passing satisfactions that come with acquisitions or achievements, we learn to remain empty, turning with our thirsts to receive from Jesus’ Spirit.  He’s the One who is thirsting for each of us with a love that truly satiates our hearts.

As creator, Jesus’ Spirit instilled living fountain-like streams that flow within our hearts.  These streams are flowing with divine love amid all of our interior noise and busyness.  May we always be “athirst for God, the living God.”  Amid the dryness of our desolations, Jesus’ Spirit desires to console us.  The reality is that the context of our lives is a house of spiritual formation!

Even though yesterday was Mother's Day, I couldn't help but think of mothers and their children when I reflected on today's gospel reading [John 10:1-10].

Today's story revisits the truth of Jesus as gatekeeper, the one true way, and His relationship with those He leads.  The sheep respond to the shepherd, not the stranger (thieves and marauders).  They follow the shepherd in and out of the safety of the sheepfold.

Sheep aren't particularly bright animals, so why do they give loyalty to one person rather than another?  Why don't they follow the stranger?  Because they don't recognize the stranger's voice.  And why do they recognize the voice of the shepherd?  I think it’s because they’re responding to the shepherd's unconditional love.

The shepherd is with them in good times and bad, fair weather and foul, times of peace and times of terror.  The shepherd protects the sheep with his own life against the perils that beset them.  The sheep sense this concern, this deep and unconditional love for their well-being, and they respond with unquestioning faith.

When I was a young boy, my love for and faith in my mother was like the sheep to the shepherd.  She was the life-giver, my solace, the source of all love in my life, the comforter, the healer, even at times the redeemer.  Of course I felt my father's love, but my mother was always the place of first, last and best tranquility.  I knew that she always loved me, no matter what I had done nor how I had trampled on her feelings.  Yet as I grew older, I realized she couldn’t solve all the problems, prevent all the hurts, keep at bay all the wolves of my life.

Jesus reminds us that He alone can provide the ultimate solace as we face the wolves and thieves and marauders in our lives.  He is the shepherd, and if we walk in His shadow we’ll be safe.

And so my prayer for today is that I can re-feel my young love for my mother and hers for me, that I can sense the faith of the sheep toward the shepherd, and that I then can lose myself in the unconditional love of Jesus and not be distracted by the temptations to doubt my safety in His care.

Trusted voices

 When I was very young, I remember hearing for the first time that everyone dies at some point.  It frightened me a lot.  I remember crying to my mom and asking, “Does everybody die?”  She told me the truth—that is everybody dies, but nobody knows when, except God, so I didn’t need to worry about it, other than to be a good boy.  Then she taught me how to pray the Rosary.  The last line of the Hail Mary prayer is "Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death."   Of course, to my naive mind, this meant two things:  I had been a bad kid and death was imminent.  But as I have “advanced in wisdom and age” [Luke 2:52], I now know and love our Blessed Mother and the prayer she gave us as much, I think, as my own mother did.  On that day those many years ago, Mom answered my most troubling question in the most comforting way.  Her simple assurance has helped me through countless times of worry and grief.

There’s nothing like the sound of the voice of someone we know and trust.  A familiar voice assures us of a familiar presence, someone who’s within reach and who can share in our joy or console us in our sorrow.  Writing about the mystery of our Lord’s descent into hell and His victory over death, Pope Benedict XVI once drew a comparison to the common experience of being afraid of the dark: “If a child had to venture out alone through the woods on a dark night, he would be afraid even if he were to be shown a hundred times that there was nothing to fear. He is not afraid of anything specific, to which he could put a name, but in the dark, he feels insecure, an orphan, he feels the sinister character of inner existence. Only a human voice could console him; only the hand of a person he loves could banish the anguish, like a bad dream.” [Remarks during the Angelus Prayer, June 22, 2008]

How appropriate it is that Mother’s Day this year falls on Good Shepherd Sunday!  Jesus compares Himself to a shepherd, guiding and protecting us.  He promises the sheep of His flock that He will forever hold them securely in His hand [John 10: 27-30].  How fortunate we are who have had mothers who have guided us, protected us, loved us, and held us, who have treated us with the tender loving care of the Good Shepherd!  Christ’s own passage through death frees us from the fear that we will be abandoned in death.

During the Easter season we rejoice in the certainty that Christ’s voice reaches the dead, calling them to life. “The hour is coming and is now here when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God, and those who hear will live” [John 5:25-28].  On this Good Shepherd Sunday, we take heart and are encouraged by our Lord’s words.  When we feel lonely or far from God, we can turn to Him in confidence; He will never abandon us. “My sheep hear my voice; I know them, and they follow.” [John 10:27]

Losing sight of the big picture

 

As I read from the Acts of the Apostles today, I encountered a story of healing and resurrection [Acts 9:31-42].  The characters were the paralyzed, bedridden Aeneas, the deceased Tabitha, and her friends, the "saints and widows".  Only weeks removed from Christ’s own death and resurrection, I can’t help but be pulled back to the crucifixion scene with the women, including Christ’s widowed mother, standing at the foot of the cross.  My mind naturally played on to the following morning when again it was the women who were the first to come to the tomb.

I’ve been thinking of late that we’ve come to departmentalize things.  We call them issues.  We have the gender issue, the race issue, the capital punishment issue, the abortion and assisted death issues.  Not to forget the international issues.   The list is endless.  In trying to cope with all these issues, I think we may be reading into scripture what may not be there.  When we encounter scripture in fragments, we tend to lose focus of the big picture.  Christ’s message, His dream, and that of the apostles was the issue of inclusion; one family, one community, love, compassion, and mercy—for one and all.

For me this makes the "issues" of the present day at once more of a mental challenge, but at the same time somehow easier to hold in my heart.  It’s extremely difficult to exclude anyone when love and mercy is the ultimate goal.

"I walk before the Lord in the Land of the living."  (Psalm 116)

Knocked off my high horse!

 

Well, I’m back.  I think.  Not having had so much as a sniffle for over 2 years made me cocky, so when I caught a cold last Friday night, it came on fast and severe.  And I thought I really was going to some dark places during the first 3 days (providential?) of my illness.  Fortunately—unlike in years past when I usually had to suffer alone and on the road—Marilyn, Alicia, and Lily were here to keep me from going completely insane.

The first couple of days I was in and out of sleep.  What was unusual is that I barely looked at my phone to check social media, and I probably turned the TV on once for an hour.  Mostly, I slept.  And dreamt.  What was strange about it was that for those 2 days, I had one long, continuous dream. If I woke up for a while, I would just sit in my chair with my eyes closed until I fell asleep, and the dream picked up where I left it.   It was like, as they say, my life was flashing before my eyes.  I don’t want to be overly dramatic, but it truly felt that way.  I was seeing not only my entire family from both my mother’s and my father’s side, but anyone I had ever met from my wife’s family as well!  I even “reconnected” with many friends (and foes), some of whom I’m sorry to say I had forgotten, or at the very least filed away in the deepest recesses of my memory!  I think the strangest thing about the dream was that it had a “This is Your Life” vibe to it.  I was presented with all of these different individuals and shown how my relationship with them changed my life for the better—even those I have called “foes”, no matter how insignificant our relationship may have been at the time. 

As I got better, the dream finally ended, but for the last couple of days I’ve been trying to make sense of what the purpose of my deep self-reflection was.  I find it somewhat comforting that, although I didn’t feel much like doing anything else, I did feel a strong desire to continue praying my Rosary each day, meditating on the life of Christ—and my own spiritual life; and how very, very far I am from perfect, as Jesus tells us we must be to enter the Kingdom of Heaven [Matthew 5:48]. 

In our minds, often in the deep recesses, we each carry concepts of what we long for our lives. These are our plans, our hopes, our ideals, everything that gives us direction and meaning.  They shape our daily commitments, our lives’ work and worth.

They include school and career plans, designs for a life partner and a family, hopes for financial security and possessions to ease life’s pains and chaos, respect of our families, friends and communities, enough power over life’s variables to call our own shots and keep threats at bay.

These concepts are endorsed by our cultures, our societies, blessing our efforts with acceptance and applause for achieving certain goals.  Our lifestyles, in a sense, become “idols”.

Then, out of nowhere, the unexpected happens.  A spouse is unfaithful, a child overdoses, the diagnosis is cancer, the rejection letter comes from the ideal university, a toddler is diagnosed with autism, the company sends a pink slip, the mentor dies of a heart attack, a loved one is murdered or permanently disabled by a drunk driver, or—an example each of us can relate to—a pandemic comes out to nowhere.

The trauma, unplanned and disruptive, derails any loyalty contract we have with our dreams, our ideal life, our carefully mapped out path to happiness.  Our idol is knocked off its pedestal.

Such disruption, such discontinuity, can lead some to retreat, to seek comfort in what will never give comfort…drugs, alcohol, gambling, addiction to sex, dominating others, craving more status or possessions, all to fill the hole left by the disappointment, the “failure” experienced when life as we plan it is shattered.

One thing that helped me interpret my illness-induced dream is the story of a focused, goal-oriented man whose life’s work was assured to be the work of God.  He won praise and status among his peers for stamping out the new group of followers of Jesus.

Then, out of the blue, he was literally knocked off his high horse.

Dazed and confused, he retreated to sort out the meaning of the trauma.

In time, by the slow workings of the Spirit, this fanatic of Jewish righteousness grew in his awareness of his new identity to become the man God wanted him to become.

He surrendered, giving his entire self to a whole new set of loyalties.  The rest is history…Christianity crossed the barrier of being a Jewish sect to extend its reach to all Gentiles, to become radically all-inclusive [Acts 9:1-20].

The extraordinary experience of Saul of Tarsus was not unique to him.  Sooner or later each of us will experience our own tumbles from our high horses.  These moments are Providential.  Rather than retreat into depression or a superficial distraction, they’re occasions to awaken to a deeper, richer relationship with Christ.  We learn, as Paul learned, that God’s love and grace is all we need when we surrender to the new reality God gives us [Ephesians 2:8-9].

Our fullness of life is found in our connection to the Body and Blood of Christ.  This nourishment gives us life when all is bleak, dark and deadening [John 6:52-59].

The setback, the giving up what we made too important, our idol, becomes a gift to strengthen our dependence on God, to help us see the path God intends for us, to provide what we need to live solely to do God’s will, God’s plan and God’s goals for us.  This transformation is painful.  It really hurts. And it demands total self-giving, total humility.  As I said, I’ve a long way to go.

We learn the meaning of our new reality when we pray in silence—and maybe with a little suffering attached—which is the language of God.

We don't have to be afraid

 

"When it was evening, the disciples ... embarked in a boat.  It had already grown dark….  The sea was stirred up because a strong wind was blowing....  They saw Jesus and they began to be afraid."  [John 6:16-21]

How many things are out there in the darkness in our lives?  How many things that make us afraid?  The state of the world.  The war.  The pandemic and its seemingly endless variants.  A friend with a serious illness.  Children who turn out differently than we expect.  Friendships and relationships that aren’t quite working.  Our parents declining.  Responsibilities that seem overwhelming.

There in the dark of our lives is that shapeless, formless fear.  We climb into the boat to escape it and row through the dimness, imagining that we’re fleeing it.  Where is Jesus?  He said He would be here.  We wait for Him, but He doesn’t come.  And so we row our heavy boat, not realizing that our little craft is weighed down with the baggage of our own fear.  We imagine that we’re leaving it behind in the fog and darkness that hangs over the water.  If only Jesus would come to us we could feel the peace we long for so much.

From across the water, we see Him.  Jesus walks over the waves towards us.  Our hearts jump at the audacity of this kind of power, and we row harder, fleeing the calm and the love on His face and wanting to escape the miracle we witness with our eyes.  He’s here and we’re terrified.  Of what? 

What if He tells us to stop rowing? 

How would we react if He calmed the seas and lit the skies and we saw that the terrors looming in our lives were simply the stuff of life?  And then what?  If there was nothing more to dread, where would we focus our lives?  What would it cost us to let go of the fears that drive us each day?

“Don't be afraid,” He says.  “I'm here with you.  I'm always here with you, even when it's dark and you can't see me.”

He stands next to the boat smiling at us and we allow ourselves to put the oars down.  We don't have to be afraid.  Life isn’t easy, but He’s always next to us, inviting us to rest in the gaze of His eyes, so full of love for us.  The terror subsides as we look into His gentle eyes, feel His courage fill us and realize that rather than being lost at sea, our boat is gently bumping the edge of the shoreline.

It's a good day for a miracle

 

“This is truly the Prophet, the one who is to come into the world.”  This verse from John’s Gospel was the reaction of many to Jesus, as He turned five loaves and two fish into a feast for thousands [John 6:1-15].   Many of us spend our lives waiting to see miracles of this magnitude performed; to see firsthand the power of God.  I’m often challenged myself, as I wait for God to move mightily in a very visible way.  But I could use a change of perspective—to see God working every day, in a much more ordinary, but no less amazing fashion.

If a miracle is an extraordinary event believed to be caused by God’s power, then the word ‘miracle’ has a much broader definition than walking on water.  When I look at my own life, I’m amazed at the power of God, and I should count every blessing a miracle.  Finding my most perfect wife—miracle; being a father and grandfather—miracle; freely able to worship and praise God wherever I am at any time—miracle; being genuinely happy when I wake up every morning—miracle.  Imagine our world if we could see and appreciate all of the “mini miracles.”  We’d see that we’re loved by a Creator who wants to bless us daily.

When we are on the receiving end of a miracle, what’s our reaction?  “Jesus took the loaves, gave thanks.”  There’s no greater example than Jesus.  He knew the power of the Father, and immediately gave Him the thanks He rightfully deserved.  What a lesson for me, to not only see the miracle, but then to glorify the Father in response.  I’m already looking forward to the next miracle in my life.  And when it comes, I know how I want to react.  Every day is a good day for a miracle.

Grace is not rationed

 

At wartime, when soldiers have a scarce amount of food, they have to ration it.  They only eat small, measured portions each day so that the food will last as long as possible.  If they do not, they may run out and starve. 

What if this were the case with God and His grace?  What if the Holy Spirit were to say to us, “Now I’m only going to help you to a limited degree.  Once you use up the grace I’m offering you, you’re on your own.”  Ouch!  That would be problematic.

I’d like to picture myself as one who exudes a loving peace and calm, leading a constant interior prayer life and always connected in some mystical way the Holy Spirit. .... But I'm not like that.

Instead, I’m more “high energy” (translation: impatient), tapping my feet and drumming my fingers at lines, waiting, traffic, frustrating situations, etc.  Yet sometimes, I’m flooded with the grace of patience and a peace in the midst of a situation that would normally be stressful.  I can recognize it right away and always feel grateful to the Holy Spirit for this new patience and peace that I’m certain doesn’t emanate from me.

John Gospel notes that the gifts of the Spirit are not rationed [John 3:31-36].  Instead those graces are given with a generous and overflowing love.  The fruits of the Holy Spirit are clear in our lives when we recognize them.  They include peace, patience, kindness, gentleness, charity and joy.  He doesn’t ration His gift of the Spirit.

And I think the opposite of these gifts are also clear.  When our days are filled with gossip, criticism and judgments, we’ve lost touch with the Spirit.  If we can easily see how others could improve their lives and we hold tightly to the grudges in our hearts, we’ve forgotten the generous heart of the Spirit Who is constantly pouring down graces on us.

Nothing can compare

 

While reading from the Acts of the Apostles today, I was reminded that we Christians are all called to share the Good News about Jesus.  Some of the apostles had been arrested for preaching about Jesus and had been placed in a public prison.  The apostles felt compelled to tell the story of Jesus and invite others to join them, so that they, too, might be saved [Acts 5:17-26].  I wonder how I would have reacted to being imprisoned for sharing the Good News about who Jesus is and what Jesus offers us followers?  I’d like to think that I would have kept on proclaiming Jesus, but I have to wonder if I would have trusted God’s plan under imprisonment.

It would have been amazing to have been released from prison by an angel of the Lord, and I think that part of the point of the story is just like the apostles are told by the angel; all followers of Jesus Christ are called to “tell the people the whole message about this life.”  The whole message is that Jesus loves us and everybody, that Jesus came to save us all, that Jesus calls us to follow Him in love and humility, and that Jesus invites us each day to choose life with Him.  For me that means being willing to try to be aware of my own greed, my own self-interest, my own judgments of others, and my need to be well thought of by others.  As I try to go deeper with Jesus in love, service, and commitment, Jesus always seems to invite me to “come away to a quiet place” [Mark 6:31] and to try to proclaim Jesus in my life.  Sometimes it’s easy to proclaim Jesus, and sometimes when I’m having a disagreement with someone about something, it’s not so easy.  I want to have things my way, and I don’t always feel open to a process of dialogue, listening, responding, and forming a plan together.  There are days when I would much rather leave out the messy, disturbing parts of life.  But all of us are called to live in the here and now of life, and called to walk the smooth roads, the bumpy roads, and roads in all kinds of condition on our journey with Jesus.

I believe that just as the apostles were transformed into bold proclaimers of Jesus after the coming of the Holy Spirit, all followers are called to be transformed as well.  How am I sharing the love of Jesus with my family today?  How do I share the love of Jesus with my neighbors and my co-workers?  How do I share the love of Jesus with those whom I don’t agree with and don’t particularly like?  These are questions that can lead me to reflect more deeply on how I’m following Jesus, and hopefully lead to action, just as the apostles were led to action.  I need to be with Jesus, in order to grow in my faith, but I also need to do, so that my faith is alive.

What an amazing gift God has given us.  He sent His Son to redeem each of us [John 3:16-21].  We can easily see ourselves as insignificant, just because of the sheer numbers of people who share this planet with us now, not to mention throughout history.  We can see what we do as insignificant in comparison with the brilliant, the great, the famous and those known for their holiness.  We can see our insignificance in so many ways, but God doesn’t see any of us as insignificant.  He sent His Son for each of us individually.

What a love that is!  I wonder why it’s so incomprehensible.  All we have to do is accept that love.  We make the choice.  God doesn’t choose whether to love us.  He loves us—period!  We make the choice whether to accept His love and live in His light or reject His love and live in the dark.  It seems like a no-brainer.

One might wonder what would ever lead us to reject this most fantastic gift.  But what’s most awesome about all of this is that when we’re foolish enough to reject His gift, it’s still there for us.  He doesn’t take away the redemptive power of His Son.  His love is there for us to accept.  In that love there’s total comfort and security, no matter what else is going on around us.  There’s nothing in our human experience that can begin to compare to the gift of Easter.

“Look to him that you may be radiant with joy, and your faces may not blush with shame.” [Psalm 34]

Everything in common

 

The resurrection really matters.  It makes a difference.  Life is different because it happened. [John 3:7-15]

We spend a lot of time during the Easter Season (the 50 days between the Resurrection and Pentecost) watching and learning about the early Christian community revealed in the Acts of the Apostles.  They had so much to figure out, so much to understand.  How was their encounter with Jesus to matter, if at all?  And especially, what difference was their encounter with the Risen Jesus going to have in their lives?

Most of the early chapters of Acts of the Apostles highlights their growing sense of community.  Phrases like “the community of believers was of one heart and mind” and “they had everything in common” reveal a deepening understanding of being connected, bound together.  In the ordinary lives they lived, these early believers knew they had to live differently.  “There was no needy person among them.” And for those who had more than they needed, it was “distributed to each according to need.” [Acts 4:32-37]

Our cultural tendency toward individualism is a challenge to living our faith.  Our political and social differences become exaggerated, driving us farther apart.  We self-protect more than we reach out to help.  But what so often captures our imaginations are news stories of valiant volunteers responding to neighbors in need, or of communities of sisters, brothers and priests living a common life in communities of faith.  We’re inspired by them because they tap something fundamental inside us.  We know we’re our better selves when we are in community, caring for others.  The early believers understood this…even if they didn’t perfectly live it.  And we understand it, also.  We just need to find simple ways each day to live it.

So many possibilities

“Go into the whole world and proclaim the Gospel to every creature.” [Mark 16:15-20]

As human beings, we have so many possibilities of how we might proclaim–literally be a herald of–the Good News that is Jesus Christ.  Every day we have opportunities to speak and embody in our actions the coming into being of the Kingdom of God.  Every day we’re invited to move more deeply into being the unique part of the body of Christ that only we can be, that’s so necessary to the whole.  Every day we have new opportunities to shine the light that is God’s gift to us and, through us, to the whole world.

Truly, we have set before us, each moment, life and death [Deuteronomy 30:15].  What we choose matters not only for us but for all.  Our every word and action ripples out, carrying with it either life or death.  We see that so clearly in the words and actions of our leaders.  And we’re no different.

And if we need guidance, we’ve heard from Jesus’ own lips, that He Himself has been anointed “to bring glad tidings to the poor…to proclaim liberty to captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free” [Luke 4:18,21].  

This is our work also, each of us and together, as heralds of the Gospel to every creature.

Feeling blessed

 

When I read about the Apostle Thomas, two thoughts immediately come to my mind.  First, to pray for my brother Tom, who was named after one of the Twelve.  The other is the Gospel story and the familiar term of ‘Doubting Thomas’.  “Hah,” I think to myself, “that wouldn’t have been me.  I don’t have to see Jesus to believe.”

But then, doubt creeps in.

When I reflect on it, I feel I should give Doubting Thomas the benefit of the doubt.  I’ve heard my entire life about Jesus and the resurrection, about God made man.  Thomas was able to meet Jesus and be with Him, but Thomas knew Jesus as a man.  Jesus understood He was asking a lot of the apostles, including Thomas.  He gently told Thomas: “Blessed are those who have not seen and believed.”  [John 20:19-31]

We all doubt.  We doubt our own ability.  We doubt our loved ones.  We don’t feel confident in what we believe.  We feel abandoned.  We’re not sure we’re worth much.

But the good news is that we can believe in Jesus, in the crucifixion and the resurrection.  Even if we can’t touch the nail marks or the scourges in Jesus’ side, we can believe in the presence of Jesus in our lives.

And if we believe in that presence, we have to erase the doubt about ourselves and others.  Today also is the Sunday of Divine Mercy, fitting as God’s mercy compels us to act, to forgive, to console, to help.  Acting with mercy compels us to overcome our doubts about ourselves and about others.  I can help.  I can contribute.  I can see Jesus in others and in myself.

Actions speak louder than words

 

I felt called to reflect today on the depth of faith I’m called to exhibit, and my need to express that faith.  I think it’s best summed up with the old adage:  "Actions speak louder than words." [1 John 3:18]

In an excerpt from Acts, we see Peter and John in a conflict with their Jewish brethren over the significance of Jesus.  There’s incontrovertible evidence that a man crippled since birth had been cured through the intercession of Jesus.  Yet for the Jewish officials to acknowledge this fact would undermine their own authority.  So they enjoined Peter and John not to speak to anyone in the name of Jesus.  Their reply was, "It is impossible for us not to speak about what we have seen and heard." [Acts 4:13-21]

I wonder why they felt compelled.  Did they recall being rebuked by Jesus for their unbelief of Mary Magdalene, and other eyewitnesses, who had contact with Jesus after His resurrection?   When they shared their experiences, the witnesses were not believed.   Even though His followers had spent years learning from Him and seeing the truth of His message, even though He had given them ample forewarning of what was to come, they couldn’t believe the words of their trusted companions that Jesus had risen.  Only when Jesus Himself appeared to them could they begin to accept His resurrection.  Only when they were filled with the Spirit did they feel the compulsion to speak out [Mark 16:9-15].

Is Jesus speaking to us across the years as well as to His disciples, rebuking us because we don’t believe the words of those "who saw him after he had been raised?"  Of course He is.  He also recognizes that it’s much harder for us because of the distance of time and our need to rely on the words of others.  But He still calls us to believe.

Does Jesus expect that it be impossible for us not to speak about what we’ve seen and heard?  Yes, but we must ask ourselves what it is that we’ve seen and heard.  We’re not eyewitnesses to the events of 2000 years ago, but eyewitnesses to today's reality.  And that reality is that Jesus lives among us, in the hungry, the thirsty, the naked, the sick, the oppressed.  And so it should be impossible for us not to speak out about what we see and hear.  It should be impossible for us not to ease the pain of those in whom Christ lives, just as Peter and John felt compelled to call on Jesus to help the crippled man.  We "speak" when we act.  If we believe the words of those "who saw him after he had been raised," then it will be impossible for us not to speak.

And so today I pray that my belief in the resurrection can be strengthened so that I may speak about what I have seen.