Surrendering personal power

 My reflection today on the Gospel focuses on the line from Mark “Jesus, aware at once that power had gone out from him. . .” [Mark 5:21-43] This idea of power – held, shared, used – applies in so many parts of our lives.  This Gospel account is an example of Jesus allowing His power to be accessed and used. 

A question that occurred to me while reflecting on this is: Where do we obtain our personal power?  As we grow and develop our innate talents, as we nurture strengths, as we overcome weaknesses, we build power.  We may be fortunate by birth to be in a position of power.  We may obtain power by advancement in our jobs and professions, by our work within organizations, by our sharing of our talents.  We build power by the integrity with which we lead our lives, by the honesty we manifest when we interact with people, by the trust that we create in the people around us as we treat them with dignity and respect.  I don’t think we normally have a light bulb moment that we suddenly know we have power, but I think as we reflect on our lives and capacities we grow into a realization that we have the ability to shape events and have an impact on people.

In the late 1970s there was a television show called “Mork and Mindy” starring Robin Williams, who played an alien visiting earth.  There was a particularly funny episode when Mork reluctantly shares some of his alien power with his new earthly friends.  Predictably, they misuse the power and cause Mork great consternation.  Instead of recognizing the power as a gift and exploring how to use it in correct ways, Mork’s friends abused the power and caused harm, not good.

Much of the “theology” of the “Star Wars” movies centers on the mysterious force that pervades the universe.  One of the tasks for Luke Skywalker is learning to use this power.  His guide, Yoda, despairs when Luke breaks off his training before he’s learned to fully appreciate the depth of his power to harness the force and to avoid the dark side.  Although Luke ultimately acts heroically, the risk existed that he would be seduced by the dark side to abuse his power.

St. Ignatius of Loyola recognized that we all have power, and that God calls us to surrender that power to do the will of God, not to abuse it by pursuing our own selfish aims.  The “Suscipe” is such a wonderful prayer of reminder that we are dependent on God, that our best action is to surrender all that we have – our talents, our will, our power – to the Lord for disposition.  I have a hard time saying the prayer without becoming emotional and thinking of relatives and friends, and my own ultimate death, and wondering at the faith it takes to enter into this final surrender with hope and not fear.

Jesus easily shared the power of healing to the hurting woman.  He was aware of His power and that it had gone out from Him.  How aware are we of our power, and how we are using it?  Are we using it to do good, or are we abusing it as did Mork’s friends?  Are we using our power to improve the life of others, or are we seduced by the “dark side” of life that encourages us to act for ourselves?  Can we pray the “Suscipe” and be aware of consciously, freely, and without hesitation surrendering our power, even our final breath, to God’s will?

Suscipe

Take, Lord, and receive all my liberty, my memory, my understanding, and my entire will.  All I have and call my own.  You have given all to me.  To you, Lord, I return it.

Everything is yours; do with it what you will.

Give me only your love and your grace, that is enough for me.

And so my prayer today is for a greater appreciation of my power, and the gift of generosity so I can surrender it, not hoard it, and thus to be a channel for God’s work in building the kingdom here on earth.

Beset

 

Beset.  

As I read my Scriptures today, that’s the word that springs to my mind.  Beset.

David is beset with problems—his own deeds, Shimei heaving rocks and dirt at him, and his flight from Absalom [2 Samuel 15,16]; the Psalmist’s lament (“Nobody likes me!  Everyone hates me!  HELP!”)[Psalms 3]; Legion and his collection of unclean spirits [Mark 5:1-20].  Who among us isn’t “beset”?  Who hasn’t felt completely overwhelmed?  Sometimes the overwhelmingness is of our own making (bad or nonexistent scheduling, discipline, choices); sometimes it seems that we’re being nibbled to death for no apparent reason.  It’s amazing, really, how these three Scripture readings touch such a chord in all of our hearts; by the simple fact of being a human, we’ve all had these feelings. 

Sometimes we want, in these situations, to strike back, or out, to heave the rocks and the dirt back in the direction they came from; other times we wish our own problems on others (lacking a herd of swine).  When I have these experiences, I try to do something my father told me to do a long time ago:

Take a deep breath.

That’s right, I take a deep breath, and I look for the center of myself, the calming influence.  At that center we can find God—He for whom the Psalmist calls.  It seems that at the center of things—and we have to look, and we have to work at it—we can find a core—sometimes a tiny core—of peace and reason.  We hang on to that core, that seed of peace and reason, for dear life, and it gradually expands, and we see things as they are, as they can be, and/or as they should be, and it gives us perhaps just the littlest bit of strength to go on, or a new perspective.  That, really, is what faith is largely about—helping us overcome being “beset.”

Called to love as Jesus loves

 

Jesus, after having read from the prophet Isaiah, said to the people: “Today, this Scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing.” [Luke 4:21-30] Luke tells us that “all spoke highly of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth.”  And then something happened.  Some people also asked, “Isn’t this the son of Joseph?” As I reflected on this gospel today, I thought that there must have been more there than just an idle question.  Borrowing a bit from Matthew’s version [Matthew 13:54-58], I wonder if some of the people who were listening to Jesus might have said to themselves, “That was great.  But wait a minute.  Isn’t this Joseph’s son?  Don’t we know him?  He can’t really claim to be the fulfillment of that prophecy, can he?”

So when Jesus sensed that this kind of thinking was going on, He spoke about a prophet not having honor in his native place, and then gave them examples about how God works outside of human boundaries: in Elijah helping a widow outside of Israel [1 Kings 17:7-24], and Elisha cleaning a leper from Syria [2 Kings 5:1-19].  Then the people got indignant.  I can imagine them saying to themselves, “Who does he think he is, saying things like that?”  And they got so mad, they try to kill Him!

Before we look down our noses at the people from Nazareth though, don’t we at times have similar thoughts and feelings towards others?  Have you never said to yourself, “Who does he/she think he/she is, telling me what to do?”  Are we not at a time in the U.S., and in other parts of the world, for that matter, that it doesn’t matter how reasonable, or even right it may be, we instantly reject what’s being said from the other side?  Isn’t this what white supremacists do?  For them, the only things that are worth anything are the things that come from white people.  They can’t conceive of anyone else having as many gifts and talents and worth as they.  Isn’t this also characteristic of clericalism in the church, where the leaders determine somehow that lay people are to be seen and not heard?  And if I, as a citizen of the U.S., convince myself that only the U.S. matters and that the only good way of doing things is the “American way” of doing things, have I not fallen into the same trap?  I can take pride in my country and still be humble enough to know that we can learn from others.

Even before Jesus, as we’ve seen in the examples to which Jesus referred, it’s been shown that God works outside of the boundaries and barriers that we human beings construct among ourselves.  And in what we see from the Gospels, Jesus reached out to those beyond Israel, and to people beyond what conventional wisdom or piety within Israel, dictated He should reach out to.

Why would God act that way?  Why would Jesus give us such a model to follow?  We have a very eloquent answer in St. Paul’s treatise on love [1 Corinthians 12:31-13:13].  When we get righteously indignant and believe that we’re standing up for what’s right, but we do it without love, we’re really standing up for nothing.  Love takes no pleasure in the destruction of anyone, but in the rise of justice and peace for all.

It’s true that the world is already accustomed to turning a deaf ear to the promotion of life, to the need for reconciliation, to the perspective of people of faith, but we can’t let that deafness lead us away from love.  Otherwise, we have no possibility of being heard.

If we believe in the meaning of the Cross and of the empty tomb; if we believe in God’s desire to heal us and reconcile us and redeem us, then we’re called to love as Jesus loves.  We’re called to be open to where the Holy Spirit leads us, even if it means crossing the barriers that exist between people.  People may not be willing to hear.  The leaders in Jeremiah’s time didn’t [Jeremiah 1:4-19].  The people in Nazareth who heard Jesus weren’t.   And those who benefit from the status quo will not.  But just as God promised Jeremiah, God will be with us.

Don't you remember?

 

Mark’s Gospel gives us the picture of Jesus rebuking the wind and the sea when the violent squall came up as He and His disciples were passing from one side of the sea to the other [Mark 4:35-41].

Jesus said to the wind and the sea, “Quiet! Be still!”  The wind ceased and there was great calm.  Then He asked the disciples, “Why are you so terrified? Do you not yet have faith?”

I’m afraid if I were in the boat with Jesus and the disciples and the winds and waves became so threatening, I too would go to Jesus and say, “Can’t you see we are in danger? Master, help us!”

And Jesus would say the same thing to me: “Why are you so terrified? Do you not yet have faith?”

And I would respond, “I have faith, Lord.  But it didn’t seem as if You were paying attention.”  I expect His response would be something like: “I’m always aware of what is going on with you.  Don’t you yet believe in my power?  Have I not always taken care of you?”  And He would have to remind me how many times I have felt the same way and prayed the same words: “Lord, help me here. It’s getting pretty rough.  Can You hear me?  Can’t You see I need help?”

Evidently Jesus expects us to have deep faith—not just a little faith.  And I think that comes only upon reflection about our own relationship with Jesus.  For each of us Jesus could go down a list that hundreds of times He has taken care of us, with our asking and without our asking.  He could say to me:

“Don’t you remember when your mom broke her hip and you called for help, and she had a successful surgery?  Don’t you remember when your mom needed comfort in her last days?  Didn’t she pass quietly?  Don’t you remember when your brother was in the hospital in a delirium due to his illness, and I helped you and Tom come to terms with his impending death through prayers and visions?”  Jesus could go on and on.

So why can’t I remember?  I need to set aside more time for reflection on God’s goodness to me and my family.  I need to be grateful for all that I have and remind myself of God’s constant care for me.  Perhaps you have the same weakness as I do.  If so, let us pray:

“O Lord, have pity on us of little faith; help us remember the many times You’ve been there to help us; help us trust You and have more faith in You.  For we mortals are weaker than we think.  We’re more dependent on You than we can ever imagine.  Have mercy on us and keep us close.  Amen.”

All it takes is letting go

 

I suspect that all of us at one time or another have experienced a rampant, burning desire:  It might be out-of-control sexual desire like King David's [2 Samuel 11:1-17], or it might be wanting that new car or house, or that job title, or to win that huge lottery jackpot.  I’d bet that most of us know what it’s like to be driven away from God by appetite, by lust.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned as I get older, it’s that evil is subtle and sneaky.  Not much gets in the way, and almost any means seems appropriate, when we're overcome by self-will run riot.  David even resorted to murder!  Instead of being horrified by his own thought of setting up the killing of Uriah, David was methodical—to David, his actions in the moment probably seemed quite rational.

But thanks to God through the prophet Nathan, David was confronted, realized the enormity of his sin, repented and suffered consequences [2 Samuel 12].  Of course, he wasn’t the only one who suffered.  There were also a number of innocent people who were hurt as a result of David's actions.

About the only force that can set things right in such a situation is the love of God.  The older I get, the more I realize that we just can't do much of anything worthwhile without God.  That’s why we pray to Him to create in us clean hearts [Psalm 51:12].  Sometimes, driving around town or waiting in a line somewhere, I'll experience a fleeting sense of what it must be like to have a clean heart.  There’s a letting-go, a sense that I could, if I wanted it enough, "just give the world a break."  It means letting go of every resentment.  It includes everyone:  Everyone who has hurt me, betrayed me, discounted me . . . EVERYONE.  Sadly, this "letting-go" is gone as quickly as it came, but the memory persists.  I believe the source of such experiences is God.  It doesn’t come about as a result of anything I've done, I'm certain.

I wonder if that fleeting experience is like the mustard seed in Mark’s Gospel [Mark 4:26-34].  Could it be that what I ought to do is hold on to the memory of the moment of letting go, and nurture it?  Could it be that I might even have a desire for a clean heart that is as drivingly powerful as my desire for the things of the world?  I guess one could call it lust for God's grace.  Might I someday experience that?

All I can do is sincerely ask God to plant the seed in my heart.  Just the tiniest grain of desire in that direction might grow into a great wondrous thing.  Maybe all it takes is a little letting go.

Please, Sir, may I have another?

 Whatever is good, especially if very good, we’re oriented to desire more of it. 

The good we have is okay, but if we just could have “one more” that would even be “more better.”  This is simply basic human lust or longing for completion.  The sad part for us is that we can never be complete while we remain in this life, but we can come quite close.

The Gospel I’m reflecting on this week has a lot to say about what we're to do with what we receive [Mark 4].  Jesus uses many familiar images to help His hearers to take in all He wishes them to have and take inside.  Seeds scattered, the smallest of seeds planted—these are pictures of how Jesus is offering Himself and His message to be taken in through the ears and given flesh through the actions flowing outwardly.

Then there’s the image of a lamp; a light which, when lit, is not meant to be hidden in a tub or under a bed. Simple and clear enough in the hearing, but, what if we want more, a better lamp, light!   Jesus tells His disciples that, what is hidden will be revealed and what is secret will be disclosed [Mark 4:21-25].  To this we respond, “ah good, God is going to give us more, clearer, enough!”   We’ll never have enough to complete Him on earth, one cookie, such as yourself, myself, is what He asks us to be and to share and not from under a tub or bed.  Two cookies are always better than one and yet the one, limited, seems to be enough for Jesus to share with us.

Early in Mark’s Gospel four fishermen were called out of their boats and away from their nets [Mark 1:16-20].  These cookies were being formed by their listening to Jesus, to be distributed, shared.  They heard many things, were given much and more was coming, but only depending on how they revealed outwardly all they had inwardly received.  Jesus’ relationship with them, and of course, us, is oriented for display, for showing up and out and not showing off.  His giving was for their living and the more would be given depending on its being lived.

In short, nothing of His, is mine!  I’m finishing this Reflection, because I don’t have anything more or better to say and of course, I wish there were more. I've taken the cookie Jesus shared with me through the Gospels out of the jar and placed it on the counter to share with you.  It's all I can do.  I hope it's enough.

Stir into flame the Gift of God

 

Two of Christianity’s earliest saints Timothy and Titus were converts from Judaism and beloved companions of Paul, whose letters of instruction and encouragement to each would eventually become part of the New Testament.  Together with Mark’s depiction of Christ’s teaching through the parable of the farmer who went out sowing [Mark 4:1-20], their lives remind me of the graces and the challenges of conversion.

We tend to think of conversion as happening to someone else, someone not born into the faith, when actually God’s loving creation and conversion is taking place within each of us, not merely every day but over and over every day.  Over and over, He sends His Spirit to teach, to guide, to call, to convert; indeed, to change me evermore completely into His image. 

The Parable of the Sower begins with the line: “Hear this! A sower went out to sow.” [Mark 4:3]   The details of this parable are that the sower sows seed on the path, on rocky ground, among thorns and ultimately on good soil.  The story reveals that we must strive to be like that “good soil” in that we must receive the Word of God into our souls, allowing it to be nurtured so that it may grow in abundance.

But this parable reveals something more that could easily be missed.  It reveals the simple fact that the sower, in order to plant at least some seed in good and fertile soil, must act.  He must act by going forth spreading seed in abundance.  As he does this, he mustn’t become disheartened if the majority of the seed he’s sown fails to reach that good soil.  The path, the rocky ground, and the thorny ground all are places where seed is sown but ultimately dies.  Only one of the four places identified in this parable produces growth.

Jesus is the Divine Sower, and His Word is the Seed.  We should realize that we’re also called to act in His person by sowing the seed of His Word in our own lives.  Just as He’s willing to sow with the realization that not every seed will produce fruit, so we also must be ready and willing to accept this same fact. 

The truth is that, very often, the labor we offer to God for the building up of His Kingdom produces little or no manifest fruit in the end.  Hearts become hardened and the good we do, or the Word we share, doesn’t grow.

One lesson we must take from this parable—and St. Paul’s second letter to Timothy—is that the spreading of the Gospel requires effort and commitment on our part.  We must be willing to toil and labor for the Gospel despite whether or not people are willing to receive it.  And we mustn’t allow ourselves to become discouraged if the results aren’t what we had hoped for.  

The question, of course, is how receptive to God’s conversion are we?  When that Sower comes down our row, how do we receive the seeds He showers on us?  Are they carried away by the demons we’ve allowed into our life?  Is our faith so superficial that they’re soon blown away by what Paul calls our “share of the hardship which the gospel entails?” [2 Timothy 1:1-8] Are they eventually smothered by our absorption with career, status, security, even leisure?  In the end, what’s the yield from God’s gifts in our life, our relationships, and our treatment of others?

This constant call to conversion can certainly sound like hard duty.  And sometimes it is.  The trick is to accept the challenge with joy, “to stir into flame the gift of God.”  By so doing, the promised rewards are great from the Spirit who “is no cowardly spirit, but rather one that makes us strong, loving and wise.”  God asks nothing more and nothing less of us.

Changing directions

 

As we get older, sometimes it’s hard to get moving, and it can be especially difficult to change directions if we’re going the wrong way.  Thanks be to God that He uses others in our lives to help get us moving and to help us to see clearly.

I watched a YouTube video today about a man whose son was shot by a teenager as part of a gang initiation ritual during a pizza delivery.  The gang had called in a pizza order, and when the driver showed up, the teen was told to kill him.  After the teenager was convicted of murder as an adult and received a 25-year to life sentence, the driver’s father felt compelled to meet with the teenager’s grandfather (his father was out of his life) and together they started a foundation that would hopefully help troubled youth find their way out of despair and gang-related situations.  The two older men grew to love one another as brothers and, after a while, the father even visited the teenager in prison to forgive him and offer him a job with the foundation when he had finished serving his sentence!  The experience drew each of the men—the father, the grandfather, and the reformed killer—closer to God, and all three of them now appear together in various churches and schools telling their own story, and hopefully showing the graces that God bestows on those who show compassion and mercy to their neighbor.

The YouTube video reminded me of Saint Paul’s conversion.  Few of us have dramatic experiences that change our lives in the manner of Paul.  Paul’s Damascus experience resonates in a special way as we consider how his experience with Jesus changed his life’s direction.  Paul’s youthful enthusiasm, wrought by his years of education and fueled by the approval of those in the reigning power structures within his community, took him down a path where he acted with great certainty in oppressing those who followed Jesus.  But an encounter with Jesus forced him to answer the question: “Why are you persecuting me?”  Oddly enough, Paul didn’t know who was asking this question.  Perhaps he really didn’t know what he was doing.  Or maybe the zeal with which he performed his actions blinded him [Acts 22:3-16].

When Paul learned it was Jesus, he didn’t respond with all of the arguments he had in his arsenal.  I’m a little surprised that he didn’t seek to justify his persecuting ways, as I probably would have.  Instead, he just did what Jesus told him.  We’re told that later scales fell from his eyes and he was able to see clearly.  The product of his new vision and his changed life has touched many other lives, too.

The story of Ananias [Acts 9:1-22] is just as surprising as Paul’s story.  Ananias was a faithful man who undoubtedly identified with the persecuted Christian brothers and sisters who suffered because of Paul.  If I were in Ananias’ shoes, not only would I be fearful, but I would also be plenty irate with this zealous and arrogant persecutor of my friends.  Isn’t it interesting that Ananias, who knew God’s voice, needed to ask God if He knew all the facts?  I like his honesty.  And I admire the fact that somehow Ananias was able to put all of this past aside, to the point of not only going to Paul and praying for him, but also in calling him his “brother”.  What a remarkable story of forgiveness and faithfulness!

In my own experience, forgiving often seems difficult.  Interior change is harder to begin than exterior conformity.  But sometimes simply doing something precedes or accompanies a change of heart. Ananias provides a remarkable example of cooperating with God, and in doing so he participated in God’s wondrous work in and through Paul.

May God have mercy on each of us to help us to recognize situations where we’re seeing with scales on our eyes, and to have the courage to change—even to forgive those who have trespassed against us. And may we appreciate the power of positive examples that are all around us.

A growing compassion

When we think of special friends or acquaintances, we often think of words that describe their particular personality or some aspect of their association with us.  “She’s so kind.” “He’s a good friend.” “They always make me feel welcome.”

“Faithfulness” and “mercy” are two words that appear again and again in the scriptures as “windows” through which we catch a glimpse of who God is and how God acts.  They describe how God first became involved with Israel and how He has been ever since.  It was mercy that moved the Divine Heart to enter into the covenant; it’s faithfulness that, despite Israel’s frequent abandonment of God, never fails to keep the covenant.

“My faithfulness and my mercy shall be with him.” These words are spoken in reference to King David, and the phrase foretells no generic or vague “presence.”  By pledging to accompany David with faithfulness and mercy, God promises to constantly work on David’s behalf, through thick and thin, with every ounce of divine strength [Psalm 89:20-26].

Jesus, the faithful witness and mercy of God in the flesh, assures us that those gifts are for us as well.  In the midst of our lives and work today, do we accept the promise made to David?  Perhaps today we need to pray for the grace to hear the Psalm spoken to us: “My faithfulness and my mercy shall be with you.”

It’s painful to watch Jesus, in Mark’s gospel, be demonized by the religious leaders of His day [Mark 3:22-30].  Yet, as we know from our own experience, too often that’s what we do to people who challenge us, even a way that is clearly from the Holy Spirit.  I remember hearing a priest share that if he preached like Pope Francis - as he felt drawn to - he wouldn't be able to put a new roof on his parish church, because the people wouldn't like his preaching very much.

I think the invitation and the grace being offered each of us today comes in the form of a couple of movements.  The first is the invitation to renew our personal relationship with Jesus.  In doing so, we might discover any resistance we feel to being called to love and be merciful, the very way He’s loved and been merciful to us.  That's where the grace comes in.  It’s a gift from the Holy Spirit which will lead us to greater freedom and greater closeness with Jesus.  Secondly, we can all examine any ways we might be demoralizing others.  Do I find myself in any oppositional relationship with someone close to me?  Is there something I can learn from that?  I often discover then when I’m about to judge someone or just feel deep opposition to someone, I can explore what's underneath all that tension and discover something in me I need to look at.  For example, I find myself getting upset at people who refuse to get the Covid vaccine, or even wear a mask when in close quarters or those who refuse to follow the scientific proof behind the Covid protocols.  So, I get all judgmental about it.  If I stop and reflect on it a bit, I can often discover that there’s some issue of resisting authority, which is also in me, and that reflection can be both freeing and allow mercy and compassion to replace my judgment of the other person.

This Covid era could be a great time to ask for deep desires for God's grace to free our hearts.  We can ask to be open to let God do something in us.  We can ask to grow in freedom in the way we related to others, especially anyone we might be tempted to demonize.  We can ask for the grace to discover what our Lord wants to forgive and heal in us - what Jesus wants to release in us, so that we might be a people who grow in having a heart like His.  These days can be grace-filled if our hearts move from severity and opposition to others and move in the direction of compassion, mercy and deep self-giving love; with a renewal of our way of being with and for those around us.  It might also be a time to ask for powerful graces, that our hearts might grow in deeper compassion and care for our brothers and sisters who suffer in our city and around the world. 

An unimaginable gift

 

St. Luke begins his Gospel with a short explanation.  This introduction to his Gospel gives us the opportunity to look more deeply at the Holy Bible.

Since many have undertaken to compile a narrative of the events that have been fulfilled among us, just as those who were eyewitnesses from the beginning and ministers of the word have handed them down to us, I too have decided, after investigating everything accurately anew, to write it down in an orderly sequence for you, most excellent Theophilus, so that you may realize the certainty of the teachings you have received.  [Luke 1:1-4]

Sacred Scripture is a gift beyond our imagination.  It’s a gift from God through which He reveals His perfect love and His perfect plan for us.  We should know the Scriptures well, read them often, pray over the verses and allow all that’s revealed within those pages to become the foundation of our lives.  I reflected today upon one particular aspect of Sacred Scripture.

Usually, when there is a collaboration between two persons, the endeavor is defined as “50/50”.  But the Bible is 100% the work of God and 100% the work of the human author.  It is 100/100 so to speak.  By that I mean that the human author completely cooperated with the inspiration of the Holy Spirit in writing each book and letter.  And God, for His part, guaranteed that all that was written came from His heart and inspiration.  Therefore, this joint effort reveals that God used the human author for a divine purpose.

This is of great significance to understand for two reasons.  First, it reveals that we should love Scripture because it reveals the heart and truth of God as well as the unique personality and humanity of the human author.  We are benefiting from the full revelation of God as well as the unique gift of the human author.

Second, it should reveal to us that, though God will not use us in the same way (i.e., to add to the Bible), He does desire to use us for divine purposes.  He desires to consume our unique human personality and use us to shine forth the beauty and splendor of His divinity.  He wants a 100/100 cooperation with us, also, so as to shine through us in a radiant way.

Our openness to the gift of Holy Scriptures enables us to become living gifts of the Word of God to the world.

Listening for His voice

 

Jesus was followed by a crowd wanting to hear and be with Him.  So many of them crowded into the house where He was staying that neither He nor the apostles could even eat.  Family and friends became concerned about Him not eating or taking care of Himself [Mark 3:20-21].  Later, He seemed to belittle their efforts to help Him [Mark 3:23-35].   That wasn’t the first time Christ had rebuffed attempts to be cared for. Even as a child Christ had said to His parents, “Do you not know that I must be about my Father’s business?” [Luke 2:49]. 

I’ve been thinking today about how many times I didn’t listen to or actively rejected advice from family and friends, even pleadings from those trying to protect me. 

Worse, though, are the many times I’ve refused to listen to God’s voice!  I recognize now, (in my ancient wisdom), that He’s seized me several times in my life in an effort to show me that I was going down the wrong path, that what I sought was not the way to happiness or to Him.   

I understand that it’s corny and trite and completely overused, but the old saying, “Today is the first day of the rest of your life” comes to mind.  With the New Year barely begun, with the rest of my life just starting, I need to remember that when life is out of balance, when nothing seems right, when my wheels spin in the mud and I can’t get traction: that's when I need to listen for His voice. 

The message of reconciliation

 In the Old Testament reading I reflected on today, Saul was trying to kill David and was searching for David [I Samuel 24: 3-21].  David was hiding in a cave.  David was tempted to seek revenge on Saul but didn’t.  I interpreted this reading to be about forgiveness and reconciliation.  David quoted an old proverb: “From the wicked comes forth wickedness.”  It makes me think about the times I can be small and petty and disgruntled and do something to get back at someone else.  Coming from a place of darkness and meanness can lead to more darkness and meanness.  David’s restraint from violence was the beginning of peace and reconciliation between the two.  David did the generous and right thing by not attacking Saul when Saul didn’t expect the attack.  David admitted that he cut the mantel, but he refrained from injury and death and more darkness.  It’s often so easy to go to that place where we think we deserve to be petty and small and disgruntled.  But if we stay there, we won’t ever be in the light.  Saul was moved with gratitude and asked for forgiveness from David.  Saul then said to David: “You are in the right rather than I; you have treated me generously, while I have done you harm.” [I Samuel 24: 18]

Saint Paul reminds us that “God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation.” [2 Corinthians 5:19] In a world that often seems consumed by division and polarization, we need that message of reconciliation.  We can change and become new, thanks to God’s love.   

I can live my life with God’s message of reconciliation by starting with the “Our Father,” where we ask for forgiveness for our own sins “as we forgive those who trespass against us.”  We have to forgive – to take the generous stance as David did – if we’re to be trusted with the message of reconciliation.

So as I pray the “Our Father” tonight, I’ll reflect on the reconciliation that’s necessary in my own life for me to live a life in the light.

What happened to all those people?

In his Gospel, St. Mark goes out of his way to tell us that there were an awful lot of people who wanted to be with Jesus.  He tells us that “a large number of people” from Galilee came, as did a large number from Judea, as did a large number from Jerusalem, from Idumea, from beyond the Jordan River, from Tyre and Sidon.  People were traveling from north, south, east and west, streaming to hear Jesus, to be with Jesus, to touch Jesus [Mark 3:7-12].

Apparently, Jesus was a bit intimidated by the huge numbers because He asked His friends to have a boat ready to give Him an escape route so “they would not crush him.”  And this wasn’t the only time great crowds came to Jesus.  There were the 5000-7000 who were fed on the hillside (depending on which version of the gospels are read: Luke 9:10-17, Matthew 14:13-21, Mark 6:30-44, John 6:1-15), and the crowds lining the road into Jerusalem who were singing hosanna and laying palms down in front of Jesus as He rode into Jerusalem [Matthew 21:1-11, Luke 19:28-40, Mark 11:1-11, John 12:12-19].  But I can’t help but wonder, whatever happened to all those people?

We know they receded back into the countryside when the religious and political leaders began to demonize Jesus.  They were nowhere to be seen when Jesus went through His Passion and Death.  But when everything settled down again and the disciples continued to talk about Jesus and witness to His resurrection (Acts of the Apostles) did many of these people return to their initial interest and become followers of Jesus once again?  It wouldn’t be a surprise to find out that some (many?) of them did.  Certainly, from Pentecost on the number of followers of Jesus grew rapidly.  No doubt some of the people who were frightened off came back.

Being a Catholic follower of Jesus can be a difficult thing even today.  Sometimes we’re very fervent but there are other times when our hearts can grow distant.  The disapproval of our neighbors or our society, the scandals that happen in our Church, the experiences of personal disappointment, disillusionment, hurt or anger can all cause us to pull back from our faith, to recede back into the countryside.  The beautiful truth about Jesus is that though crowds of people came and went, Jesus stayed faithful to all of them.  Jesus stays faithful to us as well.  Perhaps our prayer today can be to ask the Holy Spirit to grace us with the desire to stay close to Jesus, even in difficult times. 

The confusion of sin

Sin confuses us, especially spiritual sin such as pride, envy and anger.  Therefore, when someone becomes consumed with one of these sins, that person most likely doesn’t even realize how irrational he becomes.  Take the example of the Pharisees [Mark 3:1-6].

It didn’t take long for the Pharisees to allow envy to cloud their thinking about Jesus.  The Pharisees wanted all the attention.  They wanted to be looked up to and honored as the authentic teachers of the law.  So when Jesus showed up, and many were astounded by the authority with which He taught, the Pharisees immediately began to criticize Him.

The sad reality we witness in their actions is that they appeared to be blind to their own malice.  The envy that filled them kept them from realizing that they were actually acting with extreme irrationality.  This is an important and very difficult lesson to learn.

Jesus was put in a situation where He chose to heal someone on the Sabbath.  This was an act of mercy.  It was done out of love for the man to relieve him of his suffering.  Though this was an incredible miracle, the disturbed minds of the Pharisees looked only for a way to twist Jesus’ act of mercy into something sinful.

Though this may not at first be that inspiring of a thought upon which to reflect, it’s necessary to reflect on it.  Because we all struggle, to one extent or another, with sins like this.  We all struggle with letting envy and anger sneak in and distort the way we relate to others.  Then, too often we justify our actions just as the Pharisees did.

We should reflect on this gospel with the hope that the poor example of the Pharisees will help us to identify any of the same tendencies in our own heart.  Seeing these tendencies that they struggle with should help free us from falling into the irrational thinking that comes as a result of sin.

Proper vision, clarity of vision

 

The theme I landed on for my reflection today is having proper vision, and clarity of vision.

The prophet Samuel was commissioned by God to seek out a new king for Israel.  He was advised not to use the obvious external standards of the world in his selection, but rather the intangible, the unseen. For “God sees not as man sees, for man looks at the outward appearances, but the Lord looks at the heart.” What is essential is seen by the heart.  Handsome and ruddy though David was, he was selected as king because of what could not be readily seen by the human eye.  He was anointed king because of what was in his heart [1 Samuel 16:1-13].

We all have a need for proper vision, clarity of vision, to see things or persons as God sees them.  In Mark’s gospel the Pharisees judged the disciples of Jesus by their outward actions, not their (unseen) intentions.  The issue wasn’t the plucking of grain on the Sabbath. The heart of the question was the Sabbath itself and Jesus, the “son of man,” as Lord of the Sabbath [Mark 2:23-28].

It’s only been about 3 weeks since Christmas, when we’re reminded “a people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.” [Isaiah 9:2] We all live in both light and shadow; we all live with a fogged-up vision.  Jesus, as we read in the gospels, came to scatter the darkness and bring clarity of vision to those who believed.  He came so we could see with the heart and not just see the visible with the eye.

We all have distorted vision that prevents us from fully living out our faith life.  We can be blind to our own needs and the needs of others; blind to expectations of parents, spouses, or children; blind to the demands of true friendship; blind to our social responsibilities of justice; blind to the reality of God working in us and around us.

 We have distorted vision for many reasons -- all unique to each individual; blinded by indifference or ignorance; blinded by stereotypes or first impressions; blinded by one’s own image or sense of self-worth.  One’s vision can also be distorted by earlier decisions, dishonesty, or fear; fear which wears many faces.

We struggle daily to see what and how God sees.  We struggle daily to have clarity of vision.  We struggle daily to have proper vision.  “The Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.”  What is essential is seen with the heart.

When we’ve mastered that clarity of vision, like Samuel, we too, successful in our quests, can stand up and “go to Ramah.”

Redefining priorities in the new year

 

In preparing for my reflection today, I read about the time that Samuel, the prophet, dismissed Saul of his kingly title and authority.  Saul had displeased the God of the Israelites and was now paying the consequences.  It appears Saul misplaced his priorities and, indeed, his responsibilities as king [1 Samuel 15:16-23].  That storyline led me to the question: What are our priorities this January day?  Two weeks into the new year, I suspect some, many or all of our New Year’s resolutions are tarnished, broken or forgotten!  Did those resolutions speak, in fact, to our priorities?

I’m thinking about the series of historically altering events that have shaped and defined the last couple of years: the pandemic, racial tensions, political upheavals, and now, Covid variants, to mention a few.  These events challenged us and set the context in which we live, work, play, pray and learn.  It’s in such an environment that we have to establish our priorities.

Undoubtedly, we face challenges and difficulties, but at the start of a new year, we can focus on the good things that may have happened in our lives: improved health, a marriage, the birth of a child or grandchild, graduation, or an improved relationship with God.  These are things we can reflect upon and allow them to temper some of the misfortunes we also experience.

Whether we’re looking back, looking ahead or looking where we presently stand, the most important elements in our life are relationships with others, with family and with God.  These to me are the priorities around which we can craft an attitude for a new year.

No doubt many have experienced the effects of the downturn in the economy, the shrinking job market and the growing ranks of the uninsured.  But if we are people of faith—a person of faith—we believe that God’s plan is at work in our lives—mysterious as that plan may be.  God speaks in ways we may not understand or even detect; God challenges us in multiple ways—His ways!  And in that we are called into a relationship closer than that of the people of Israel during Saul’s reign and closer than those who knew and questioned Jesus in Mark’s Gospel [Mark 2:18-22].

In that gospel scene, some people, genuinely perplexed, approached Jesus, wondering why the disciples of John the Baptist as well as disciples of the Pharisees regularly fasted while, when it came to fasting, Jesus’ disciples seemed pretty carefree.  Jesus’ response (“How can the guests at a wedding fast as long as the groom is among them?”) let them know that to draw away in fasting while He was in their midst was to completely misread the moment.  People who fast at weddings when they ought to be feasting don’t have their priorities straight.  How could they fast when Jesus was right before them?  How could they keep from joyous celebration when the one who promised them everything was in their midst?  At that moment, was fasting even defensible?

Like the misguided wedding guests in the gospel, we too can get so wrapped up in the habits and routines of our lives—or just the sheer busyness of life—that we grow numb to the outbursts of grace and goodness, of love and kindness, that happen all the time.  Jesus reminds us that if our routines and practices dull us to the beckoning presence of God in our lives, then we need to fast and abstain from those routines and practices lest we miss the feast to which God calls us each day, the “feast” that is Jesus always among us, ready and eager to bless.

In my view, the priorities for 2022 are to maintain a close relationship to God and to one another.  Should that come about, we can re-make our broken resolutions and with new resolve, celebrate New Year’s every day.

Do whatever He tells you

The beautiful and fantastic power of married friendship is used quite often in the Bible to describe God’s love for His highest creation, the human person.  Isaiah tells a people who has been unfaithful to their God, that God will come and make things right again.  “No more shall people call you ‘forsaken’, or your land ‘desolate’.  But you shall be called ‘my delight’, and your land ‘espoused’.” [Isaiah 62:1-5]

St. Paul tells us that there are many varied and different gifts that must work together for the good of the Church [1 Corinthians 12:4-11].  We can find this same diversity in a marriage relationship.  The couple must learn deep respect for each other.  They must blend their different gifts so that each can be enriched and made a fuller person.

When I asked for his daughter’s hand in marriage, my future father-in-law had held up one finger and said “rispetto” (in English, “respect”).  He went on to tell me that it was the most important virtue he was looking for in a son-in-law, respect for his daughter and respect for her family.  I asked him if this was the secret to his (then) 25 years of happy marriage.  He held up two fingers this time. “Two things.”  He said them with a definite emphasis. “Respect. Pride.  Always treat your wife with respect and have pride in your family, through good times and bad.  Anybody can say they’re in ‘love’.  Respect and pride prove it.”  Since I can’t remember a single moment in the 47+ years Marilyn and I have been married of ever having any bad times with her or our family, it’s evidence enough for me that his advice (and Paul’s) was right on.

I have a feeling that Jesus and His mother Mary were irresistibly drawn to a wedding and its festive celebration.  The beauty and power of friendship love, its power to transform and make whole, were tangible and felt at this time.  I don’t think it’s surprising that Jesus used this kind of context, to begin manifesting His power of transforming love.  The short and direct statement from our Blessed Mother to the servants at the wedding says all we need to know.  “Do whatever He tells you.”   [John 2:1-11]

The hard part, of course, is following that advice.  It’s easy to believe it, to preach it and to commit ourselves to doing everything that our Lord says, but it’s another thing to actually follow through and fulfill His divine will.

Discerning the will of God can be hard in the sense that it requires a wholehearted attentiveness to His gentle and subtle voice.  God doesn’t impose His will on us; rather, He respectfully and quietly invites us to listen.  He waits until we give Him our full attention and then reveals His will one step at a time.  Yes, some things have been made clear already through public revelation such as the avoidance of sin and the embrace of faith, hope and love.  But when we’re ready to let those general commands enter practically into our daily lives, we must be ready to give God our full attention.

We should realize that God’s will, when properly discerned, is not always easy to embrace.  He requires everything of us.  He’s a “jealous God” [Exodus 20:5] in the sense that He wants our total surrender.  The good news is that if we’re willing to give Him everything in total obedience, we’ll discover that our lives are completely fulfilled.

Calling all sinners!

 

The last words of the Gospel I reflected on today are a wonderfully consoling piece of news.  “I came not to call the righteous, but sinners.” [Mark 2:13-17]

In all our struggle for perfection, doing the ‘right thing,’ working hard to please God, and in general focusing way too much on ourselves and our efforts, the simple words from Mark’s gospel puts it all in perspective.  I’m a sinner; God loves me and continues to call me into life, and that’s the simple and most beautiful truth of it all!  But how easy it is to end up on the side of the ‘righteous’ and then not really be able to hear the call! 

How incredibly attractive Jesus must have been in calling disciples to Him.  Jesus simply said to Levi the Son of Alpheus, “Follow me” and Levi left the tax-collecting desk and followed Jesus.  The tax collectors were in many ways the ‘lowest of the low’.  They represented the foreign power of Rome as well as the general tendency to skim off the top of their collections and thus they were not easy to like.

But Jesus went to Levi as He had gone to Peter and James and John to offer them discipleship [Luke 5:1-11].  Were these men ‘righteous?’   Certainly not of their own accord.  However, they were afforded the opportunity of great growth by following in the footsteps of Jesus.  How well did they do this?   Knowing the rest of the story, we know that they finally understood the call only after Jesus’ death and resurrection.  Up until then they remained slow and plodding in their discipleship.

How about us?  The truth is that what makes us at all good is not our attempts at goodness and righteousness, but the very fact that we’ve been called into discipleship ourselves by our Baptism.  The strength for living out the implications of that Baptism comes from the Lord who calls us not just once, but on a day-by-day basis. 

Jesus, show me how to be tuned in to Your call as it comes to me each day.  Help me to grow in the Spirit by responding to the call.  Bless all of us with the realization of Your presence in our lives and how to keep responding to Your call to us as Your disciples.  Thank You for the call.

Signs and miracles

 

Samuel had spent nearly his entire life in the service of his faith and his people.  He was hailed by them as leader and as Judge.  Late in his life the elders came to him and bluntly stated that Samuel was old, his sons were not trustworthy, and the people wanted to select a king.  They wanted a new system. Samuel recited to the people a long list of demands that a king would want them to fulfill; some would cost them their freedom.  They persisted.  God said to Samuel, “it is not you they reject; they reject me as their king.” They clearly had free will that God allowed, even when it meant the rejection of God as their ultimate leader. “Appoint a king over us, as other nations have.” [Samuel 8:4-22]   When Samuel gave way to the people's will, he chose the first king, Saul.  

When Jesus returned home to Capernaum, a huge crowd gathered.  Soon His small home was so crowded that no more could come in.  A paralytic person, carried on a mat by friends, couldn’t part the crowd.  They carried the person to the rooftop where they actually “opened the roof” (probably twigs and rolled earth) and let the stretcher down into the crowd.  Jesus, noting their faith and effort, said to the paralyzed person, “your sins are forgiven.”  Some in the crowd were shocked. “Only God can forgive sins.”  Jesus knew their minds and answered their unspoken objections by healing the paralyzed person. “Rise, pick up your mat, and go home.”  Jesus had answered the skeptics of his forgiveness of sins by performing a tangible, unmistakable miracle.  If the subtlety of the forgiveness of sins didn’t sway the people, a person cured and walking home should have.  All were astonished. Jesus had posed the question to the crowd, “which is easier to say (to the paralytic), 'Your sins are forgiven,' or to say 'Rise, pick up your mat and walk’? “[Mark 2:1-12]   We know that it’s easier to believe what we see, but on closer examination, which miracle means the most for the good of our eternal souls?  

I found it interesting that these two Scripture passages talk specifically about the authority of kings in the Old Testament and Jesus’s authority in the New Testament, especially the miracles of the New Testament.  In the early years of the Church, these acts, which we now call miracles, were known mainly as signs.  Today we refer to them as both (signs and miracles), but over the years, the Church has focused on the actual miracle, in this case, the cure of the paralytic.  So there’s a difference in these two words and even how we interpret them.

In other parts of scripture, Jesus tells us that in order to believe, we have to see.  “Jesus, therefore, said to him, “Unless you see signs and wonders you will not believe [John: 4:48].”  So, Jesus understood that a sign (or miracle) needed to be performed to have others understand He was here on a mission and that He held the authority to speak and act on God’s behalf.  It was an encouragement to have the scribes, apostles, and other witnesses to see that Jesus was empowered to act, speak and operate with authority.  Later, it became apparent (after many other signs and miracles) that Jesus was the Messiah, to at least some of His followers prior to the Resurrection; and many others afterward.

So, in many respects, we can consider the sign, the indicator that the authority in which Jesus was operating was more important than the actual miracle itself.  If we concentrate on the outcome of the miracle, to a certain extent, we’re missing the point.  The point here is that God is with us, amongst us, operating at all times, but we continually require proof positive.  

The acceptance of God in our everyday lives is there for us all to see.  We don’t need a miracle or something supernatural (to us) to prove it.  Jesus demonstrated His authority through signs and miracles, we have the evidence in sacred scripture, but it’s also closer to home if we look and listen carefully.

Perhaps today, we can examine the times when God has spoken to us in signs in our own lives.  In our creation, our vocations, those around us, and the Pentecostal gifts.  Hope is one of the virtues which provides this continued expectation; God and grace are not around the corner but are ever-present. Hope is always on if only we can recognize His presence.