A bit of frustration

 

As I continued reading Mark’s gospel today, I could feel the frustration of Jesus’ followers.  The frustration comes at the end of a series of questions and answers circling around the question of salvation.  Jesus’ followers wanted to know what they must do in order to be saved.  The dialogue back and forth between Jesus and His followers seemed to go round and round never quite getting to the answer—at least an answer His followers could understand.  A man must leave his parents and be joined to his wife, “what God has joined together, let no one separate.”  There must be no divorce or adultery.  “Whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.  And he took them (children) up in his arms, laid his hands on them, and blessed them.”   To another, Jesus said that “you must keep the commandments.”  In addition to this “you must sell what you own, and give the money to the poor”.  In no uncertain terms, Jesus said, “Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God.”  In frustration His followers asked, “then who can be saved?”  Peter demanded an answer in his plea, “Look, we have left everything and followed you.”  Jesus’ final words seem to offer little or no comfort, “But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first.” [Mark 10]

As any parent learns, what is good for one child isn’t necessarily appropriate for another—even a sibling.  It’s in the intimacy of the parent-child relationship that trust, confidence, loyalty and love are experienced.  It’s in this intimate relationship that a parent is most effectively able to guide a child, even an adult child.  Jesus illustrates the desire of God to be in intimate relationship with God’s children in His taking up children in His arms, laying His hand on them and blessing them.  God wants to be intimate with us.

To be in an intimate relationship with God provides the opportunity for us to discern the gradual unfolding of God’s unique love, desire and vocation for us.  God reveals Himself to us in a personal way in the unique intimacy of our relationship.  Am I to leave family and home?  Am I called to live in the fullness of family?  How am I to cooperate with God’s desire for me?  What will lead me to my salvation may not necessarily be what will lead you to your salvation.  The universal invitation from God is to be in intimate relationship with God; that alone will lead each one of us to salvation.  In the empty fullness of our hearts we’ll be able to discern the voice of God.  The guilt, the “shoulds”, the “have tos” and the messages we tell ourselves when we compare ourselves to others are not the loving voice of God.  The gifts of the Holy Spirit are truer indications of the presence of God.

Lent begins tomorrow on Ash Wednesday.  Today is a good day to ask ourselves these questions:

How does God attempt to communicate Himself with me?

How does God get my attention? 

When God has my attention, how do I feel and how do I know that it is God? 

How do I feel when God takes me into His arms, holds me and blesses me?

Answering these questions may help us discern what direction our Lent leads us.

No wiggle room

I’ve always been the type of guy who wants clear direction on what needs to be done, but at the same time given some latitude as to how to accomplish it.  There is very little wiggle room in the Gospel I’m reflecting on today [Mark 10:17-27].  Jesus is clear – too clear for my comfort.  When the rich young man asked what more he must do to enter the Kingdom of God, Jesus said it simply: “Go, sell what you have and give it to the poor.”

I don’t often write these reflections as personal conversations, but I think it’s the best way to convey what I’m thinking in the moment.  I invite my reader to join my conversation:

Great, Jesus.  You have my attention now.  But come on, You don't really mean that.  Not quite that strongly.  Sell what I have and give to the poor?  I don't think You want me to move out of my house and spend my life caring for the poor.  I’m retired, and what little I have I feel I’ve worked hard for.  I still give to the poor now, not only money but all my leftover things.

I go to church every week and I listen to the Gospels.  Jesus, Your words are really inspiring.  Really though, they’re adapted from another culture and translated from a foreign language written centuries ago.  I’m pretty sure that the exact words would make sense for the culture of Your time - not my time.  If I lived two thousand years ago in a cave in a town like Nazareth, this would probably be for me, wouldn't it?  But right now, today in my life, we need to adapt Your words.  I think You want me to be generous to the poor – not sell everything I have and give it to them.

At that statement, the young man's face fell, and he went away sad, for he had many possessions.

I’m ashamed.  In my rush to cling to what I have I’m ignoring what You ask.  I’m not very free, Jesus.  I’m surrounded by things, people, and situations that let me pretend that I’m in control of my life.  I hear what You say next in the Gospel and my face falls.  “How hard it is for those who have wealth to enter the Kingdom of God.”  I almost despair.

Help me, Jesus, to understand how to live out this message in my own life, the way You really want me to.  What are You calling me to, Jesus? Where will I get the courage to answer?

That was my conversation—my prayer for clarity of the Gospel.  Then I read this Gospel again and there it was: For us it is impossible, but not for God.  All things are possible with God.

And what about the young man who started this discussion?  I think of what a failure He must have been in Jesus’ eyes—and what a failure I must be.  Yet instead of disappointment in the young man, "Jesus, looking at him, loved him."  

At the end of this reflection, I quieted myself and felt the same warm gaze, and the same love for me.  I’m grateful and I’ll continue to pray for a more generous heart, especially during the coming season of Lent. 

The life of grace

 

Hopefully, we all want to live good lives.  We all want to make a difference in our world and in the lives of others for the common good.  But I think the fundamental question we must ask is how do we do this?  It’s not so much a matter of choosing the good actions we do; rather, on a more basic and fundamental level, we must choose to live a life grounded in Christ, thus becoming a “good tree.”  “A good tree does not bear rotten fruit, nor does a rotten tree bear good fruit.” [Luke 6:39-45]

If we want to bear good fruit and make a holy and positive difference in the world, we need to do one primary thing—work at becoming holy.  To use the image that Jesus gave us, we must imagine ourselves as a tree that’s planted in the ground, our roots stretching far and wide; see ourselves being nourished and basked in the Sun, growing and flourishing.

This is the life of grace, and the effect is that good fruit automatically comes forth.  The life of grace is accomplished by focusing upon our own health and spiritual well-being.  We become this “good tree” by doing the basics well.  First, through prayer, praying well and praying hard, our life centered in prayer.  Second, by learning the faith.  Listening to the Gospels, learning all that God has revealed through the Church, reading the teachings of the saints, and learning from other holy people.  Third, living a good sacramental life.  Going to Mass, celebrating the Sacrament of Reconciliation, understanding the grace of our Baptism, Confirmation, Marriage, Ordination, etc.  Knowing that the Sacraments nourish us in powerful ways and embracing that nourishment with our whole heart.

We’ve been given an important mission to go forth and to bear an abundance of good fruit in our world [Mark 16:15].  This mission can be accomplished only as a result of a life of holiness.  This holiness is only accomplished when our roots are firmly grounded in the life of grace.  If we embrace this life of grace through the many means that God has set before us, we’ll discover that the commitment we make to holiness will bring health not only to our own soul, but also to the souls of those whom God will touch through us.

Let the little children come

 

There's a quote I heard many years ago that said, “The birth of a baby is a sure sign that God hasn’t given up on this world yet.”  I don’t remember who said it, but in some ways it seems to reflect the attitude of Jesus Himself.  He certainly let His apostles know that He felt in agreement when He said, “Let the children come to me; do not prevent them, for the Kingdom of God belongs to such as these.” [Mark 10:13-16]

In contrast, someone might feel sympathy with the apostles trying to send away the doting mothers with their restless young ones.  The apostles felt the intrusion and expected that Jesus probably did also.  They wanted some time to relax and wanted Jesus to have the same.  It was probably what we all experience in the 5:00 o’clock letdown and exhaustion after a hectic workday.

But the reaction of Jesus was unusual. “He became indignant” with His apostles.  In each child’s beaming countenance Jesus saw the future of His Kingdom and hope for the world.  He would sacrifice Himself and the apostles would have to learn to do the same if they were to be His followers.

Then came a bit of advice for His apostles and us. “Let the children come to me…for the Kingdom of God belongs to such as these.  Amen, I say to you, whoever does not accept the Kingdom of God like a child will not enter it.”  We may well question what Jesus means by “accepting the Kingdom of God like a child”?  First of all, moral innocence is a given for all little children.  Next, children respond naturally and spontaneously to a parent’s love with hugs and kisses.  This love instinctively includes accepting parents’ restrictions and directives.  Anyone who would “accept the Kingdom of God as a child” must strive to live with purity of conscience and respond with similar love, maybe not hugs and kisses, but with genuine affection for God and His Church.

Young children will automatically depend on their parents for their needs and sustenance.  Maybe at times with questions “why”, but always with trust and confidence.  We need a similar dependence on God and His Church in the essential of our faith.  Finally, young children unconsciously realize that their parents want and do what is best for them.  Aren’t God and His Church dedicated to providing for our spiritual well-being both now and forever?

Unfortunately, some children grow up and feel liberated from their parents.  They subscribe to their friends’ false attitudes and beliefs.  And predictably, they reap the results often times harmful if not disastrous.  Aren’t the consequences similar to what happens to some teenagers and adults who mimic these grown-up liberated children?  They no longer feel a need to accept God’s Kingdom like little children.  Hopefully one day they’ll recall what Jesus taught; “Amen, I say to you, whoever does not accept the Kingdom of God like a child will not enter it.”

Perseverance, patience and fidelity

All this week I’ve been reading and reflecting on the Letter of Saint James, an exhortation filled with guidance and instruction to early Jewish Christians about how to live their new life in Christ, especially while awaiting the Lord’s return.

The passage I read today [James 5:9-12] makes more sense in the context of verse 7: “Be patient, therefore, beloved, until the coming of the Lord.” And verse 8: a rich image of the farmer who waits patiently for the precious crop, being patient both with the early and the late rains.  The people are admonished not to complain, nor to judge one another, but rather to be patient and persevere. “You have heard of the perseverance of Job, and you have seen the purpose of the Lord, because the Lord is compassionate and merciful.”

The virtues of perseverance, patience, fidelity are undercurrents in Mark’s Gospel, where the Pharisees quiz Jesus to see how He responds to the question about divorce [Mark 10:1-12].

The letter of James may sound like a “pep talk”, but it initially falls flat.  Encouragement to persevere through difficulties may help with athletic training, earning an advanced degree or developing one’s musical talent because we can see the goal and are rewarded for our success.  But in times of distress and hardship, remembering others who have persevered through trials or recalling our original purpose just doesn’t reach deep enough into our pain and suffering.

This raises tough questions. Why develop “staying power” in our committed relationships when these are the source of some of our deepest suffering?  How do we continue to trust in God’s compassion and mercy in the midst of a pandemic, employment loss, tornadoes, famine, drought, civil war, terrorism?   Why persevere?  What’s the goal, “the win?”

Sometimes there’s nothing to hold on to but time-tested wisdom: maintain direction and commitments through difficulties unless and until it’s clear God is leading elsewhere.  It takes radical trust to “stay” when we don’t have an answer to “why?” or “how long?”

A return to the book of Job raises different questions: maybe the way to perseverance is not through developing strength but allowing ourselves to be more open, more vulnerable, more unprotected?  Perhaps “who?” is the better question than “why?”  Who are my companions, my community?  To whom do I belong?  Who are You God?  Can we trust that God is at work in others, in me, in every event, even when we can’t see or imagine where this is headed?

I think after asking all of these questions of myself today, the message of these Scripture passages seems to emphasize perseverance through fidelity to what we commit ourselves to – namely seeking a relationship with God.

Relativism kills

 

I was a bit uncomfortable today as I continued my reflection on the Epistle of James [James 5:1-6], Psalm 49 [14-20] and Mark’s Gospel [Mark 9:41-50].   All three readings are reminders of just how short life is and consideration of what we do with what we have.  The Gospel continues with strong images driving home personal responsibility.

“Whoever causes one of these little ones who believe to sin, it would be better for him if, with a heavy millstone hung around his neck, he had been cast into the sea.” [Mark 9:42]

Jesus made great efforts to heal sinners.  He was greatly criticized for His welcome to sinners.  He kindly healed them if they “sinned no more.”  But in this Gospel, He speaks with utmost severity about the horror and the destructiveness of sin.  “If your hand causes you to sin, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life crippled, than, having your two hands, to go into hell, into the unquenchable fire” [Mark 9:43]

Humans don’t determine what is or is not sin.  That’s been determined by God when He created us.   Sin is always highly venomous and destructive even when one might not be guilty.  The judgement of God will be merciful when the person is ignorant, but terrible damage will be done.   If one swallows poison and believes it will cure him, he will still die.  One of the most dangerous things one can hear is “if you think it is OK.  it is OK”. 

In Scripture some translations for sin are “iniquity” and “depravity”.   It’s a perversity that is an objective reality that doesn’t change.  The whole world has been terrified by Covid-19 for over 2 years now.   Sin can do infinitely more damage to us than any virus.  It can destroy our loving relationship with God which is our most beautiful gift from God.

“And if your eye causes you to sin, pluck it out.  Better for you to enter into the Kingdom of God with one eye than with two eyes to be thrown into Gehenna, where their worm does not die, and the fire is not quenched.”  [Mark 9:47]

Never fear doing the right thing

 

While reflecting on the gospel today, I found a lesson that speaks very much to our times.  John the apostle went to Jesus and told Him, “Teacher, we saw someone driving out demons in your name, and we tried to prevent him because he does not follow us.”  And Jesus replied, “Do not prevent him.  There is no one who performs a mighty deed in my name who can at the same time speak ill of me.  For whoever is not against us is for us.” [Mark 9:38-40]

To say, “For whoever is not against us is for us” seems so foreign to our ears today.  The phrase, “Whoever is not for us is against us” is more often heard.  It sounds the same, but there’s a subtle nuance there.  There seems to be so much of “us vs. them” in our country and in our world.  But the danger in that is that we can get so caught up in identifying who we are in terms of being opposed to who “they” are, that we actually get in the way of doing good.  I doubt that John saw it that way, but that’s what he and the others were doing.  They found themselves trying to prevent the driving out of demons, in Jesus’ name, just because the person doing it wasn’t part of their group!  And Jesus had to tell them not to do that.

In some ways, this story is similar to a child who tattles on a sibling.  Say that one sibling does something that is permitted by the parent, but another sibling is jealous of it.  The result is that the jealous sibling tattles for a silly reason.

“Exclusivism” can be defined as a tendency to think that something is good only when I do it.  It’s a form of spiritual greed in which we have a hard time rejoicing in and supporting the good deeds of another.  This is a dangerous but all too common struggle for many.

The ideal, in our Christian life, is to look for the works of God everywhere and within everyone.  We should so deeply desire that the Kingdom of God be built up that we are overjoyed whenever we witness such activity.  If, on the other hand, we find ourselves jealous of another for the good that they do, or if we find ourselves trying to find fault with what they’re doing, then we should be aware of this tendency and claim it as our sin, not theirs.

With the threat of war looming (once again) in Europe, and conflicts going on in so many parts of the world, is it possible that Jesus is calling us to work together to drive out the demons of fear and hate with the love He has for all of us? [James 4:13-17]

A loving, faithful, and ever-present God

 

The Bible passages I chose to reflect on today are some of the more beautiful in Scripture.  They challenge us to rise to a task, they reassure us that we don’t approach the task alone and they promise incredible rewards if we only try our best.  So, what’s the task, who will help us and what’s the reward?

In 1 Peter, Peter appeals to his fellow elders in the church to “Be shepherds of God’s flock that is under your care.”  Peter calls on them to be examples to those entrusted to their care.  Not for their own glory, but because they want to serve God [1 Peter 5:1-4].  What are the criteria for being an “elder?”  Am I an elder?  Is there a flock of any kind under my care?  The answer for all of us is “yes.”   I’m a husband, father, grandfather, son, brother and friend.  And my responsibility doesn’t stop there.  I’ve been a supervisor, a catechism teacher, a mentor, and small group member.  And it doesn’t stop there.  I’m a member of the human race, tasked by Christ to love my neighbor [John 13:34].  So, does this mean that I’m supposed to be an ambassador for Christ to the entire world?  What an overwhelming responsibility!  All of a sudden, this task has grown to intimidating proportions.  This just doesn’t seem possible.  I’m a weak and flawed individual.  I don’t know that I’m qualified to represent Christ out there in that big, bad world.  I certainly don’t know how to approach this task.

And then, after this huge shepherding challenge, comes the reassurance.  In Psalm 23 we’re told that God will be our shepherd.  He will guide us wherever we go.  When the task is overwhelming and we’re completely worn out, He will give us rest and restore us.  And this isn’t a temporary arrangement of “you do this one job for me, and I’ll help you out tomorrow.”  This is a guarantee for life.  This is a promise of support wherever we go, whatever we do, forever [Psalms 23:1-6].

Since God is my shepherd and helps me along this path, maybe I can at least attempt to be a shepherd.  So, if I follow Christ, try to be a good example and am an ambassador for Jesus, what happens then?   If the life of Saint Peter (the first Pope) is any indication, we’ll be given the “keys of the kingdom of heaven” and we “will receive a crown of glory that will never fade away.” [Matthew 16:13-19]

That’s an incredible reward!  Just as He has with the Apostles and saints throughout the ages, God presents us with the challenge, God supports us through the task and God rewards us for the effort.  What a loving, faithful and ever-present God we have.

Complete trust through prayer

Since today is my mom’s birthday, I’ve been recalling a lot of the discussions we had over the years regarding the power of faithful prayer. 

One of those discussions involved the Transfiguration of Jesus and what the account meant for us today.  I wish I had been more prepared for the discussion by reading what happened after the Mark’s version of event.  The fact that it supported Mom’s frequent exhortations for more faithful prayer would have made her happy!  This reflection is what I wish I could have discussed with her.

Peter, James and John had just come from the vision of Jesus transfigured before them.  Moses and Elijah had appeared.  A voice from the cloud spoke lovingly about Jesus [Mark 9:2-8].  It had to be the most powerful religious experience of their lives and they were euphoric and felt so close to Jesus as they came down the mountain with Him. 

But immediately they ran into a crowd of disciples who had been unable to heal a boy.  It was chaos.  Perhaps the father stood in the throng pleading desperately for a cure.  His possessed son may have been thrown to the ground again in a violent agony.  Jesus' followers argued with scribes, who were probably quite happy that the disciples of this upstart preacher could not heal in His name.   It seemed such a public failure for the disciples of Jesus!  Peter, James and John felt the peace and happiness drain out of them as they confronted the scene with Jesus [Mark 9:14-29].

Isn't this like us?  We can be feeling great in our relationship with the Lord, everything going well.  We might even be going to Mass every day, doing devotions.  Life feels balanced until - boom! - we’re confronted with a challenge to our faith, to our peace. We might ask for help from God but we’re timid: "If you can, heal us."  We don't really trust.  We don't really believe.

If you can?  I can picture Jesus, hearing the emptiness in my prayers, shaking His head.  "O faithless generation," He sighs.  

It's good for us to hear Jesus' sigh - almost in exasperation.   How much more could this be said of our generation!

We ask for favors, for fixes, for healing for many things.  But how much do we really want them answered?  How much are we willing to lay our faith on the line?  So many demons possess us each day.  Envy over what others have.  Depressions, disappointments in our lives.  A selfishness about the way we see our marriage.  A tightness of our hearts when it comes to the child who disappoints us the most.  

If you can, heal us.  We don't really believe.

Jesus lifts His hand to heal us but we call out, "Wait!  First heal him - that guy over there who drives me crazy at work!"  or we offer Him the sister who makes us angry, the friend with whom we’ve fallen out, the spouse who is distant.  "Fix that person.  Heal her.  Make him better," we urge.  We cling to our familiar demons.  What would it cost us to let them go?

Jesus invites us to examine our demons with our whole hearts.  What kind of demons do we want to drive out of our lives?  What addictions cripple us, throwing us to the ground each day?  We sometimes feel the most powerless over the patterns that have been in our life for a long time, perhaps all our lives.  Why could we not drive that spirit out?  Why do we feel like saying "Well, I've tried and I just can't do it!"?  These demons are powerful, but they can be healed.  

Jesus can heal us.  It takes more effort on our part, more prayer, more faith.  We have to ask Jesus to help us open our whole hearts to Him, our whole lives.  Forgive our unbelief.

"He said to them, 'This kind can only come out through prayer'" and some familiar translations add "and through fasting."  Jesus reminds us that the most troubling, difficult, evil problems we face take serious prayer, and maybe even fasting.  To break the bond, the hold that some things just have on us, it takes strong medicine.  

Complete trust in God is a desire we need to ask for, and we have to prepare a place for it in our hearts.  We prepare our lives and our hearts for Lent by praying for our deepest desires and with a new awareness of the fasting we will do in Lent.  We beg for help.

It’s in this moment that Jesus will take us by the hand and raise us from the hard, cold ground onto which we have fallen.   We feel His love and His embrace. We really can be healed.

Setting the bar high

 

My Scripture reflection today pulled me way out of my comfort zones.

In a reading from Samuel, we have the story from the early days of David.  A time before he’s become King.  He’s been serving Saul who was first to unite the people of Israel and begin to mold them into a nation.  But God, through the prophet Elijah, has rejected Saul as the king and has favored David.  Saul is not planning to go peacefully into retirement and has begun to hunt David down even though David has continued to be faithful in his service to Saul.  During Saul’s hunt to capture David we have this story about David’s nobility of character.  During the night, David comes upon Saul asleep.  David has every advantage even to having Saul’s spear handy for his use.  However, David remains faithful to Saul by letting him live.  He does let Saul know of his narrow escape by asking Saul to send a servant to him so that he can return Saul’s spear.  An embarrassing moment for Saul, but a revealing glimpse into the character of David…and into the character of God.

[1 Samuel 26:2-23]

And then, of course, there’s this famous Gospel passage [Luke 6:27-38].  Of all the teachings of Jesus, these are among the most challenging: love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.  To the person who strikes you on one cheek, offer the other one as well, and from the person who takes your cloak, do not withhold even your tunic.  Give to everyone who asks of you, and from the one who takes what is yours do not demand it back.  

And the list goes on:  But rather, love your enemies and do good to them; …lend expecting nothing back….  Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful. Stop judging….  Stop Condemning….  Forgive….  

For the measure with which you measure will in return be measured out to you.

Wow!  Jesus has just moved the bar not just higher but, humanly speaking, out of reach!!  St Paul, in his first letter to the Corinthians [1 Corinthians 16:45-49], pulls us back to earth with the reminder that we also have a spirit filled life given us by Christ.  It’s through Christ that this way of loving becomes a possibility for us. 

"This is my Son. I love Him. Listen to Him!"

 

Listen to him.

As a benefit of my job, I frequently got to attend daily Mass in a lot of different towns throughout the central valley of California.  Because a lot of the towns are farming communities relying heavily on migrant labor, many of the Masses are celebrated in Spanish.  One particular church in a community right outside of Bakersfield is an old-style, obviously poor parish.  It is simply constructed and not very ornate, but it does have a very "Mexican Peasant" flavor, down to the dollar bills and rosaries that are "tucked" into the arms of the statue of Our Lady of Guadalupe, reminiscent of the churches I’ve seen in Mexico and South America.

I was privileged to attend a daily Mass in this church several years ago.  As I read the Gospel of Saint Mark, and his account of the Transfiguration of Jesus [Mark 9:2-13] today, I was reminded of one particularly special day. 

When I arrived, there was no one in the church, but the doors were open.  I entered a pew a few rows back from the altar and started to pray my rosary, since I was about 20 minutes early.  I had my eyes closed (it helps me concentrate if I'm not letting my eyes wander) and I guess I was so into it that I didn't hear the church filling up.  When I was finished, I saw that almost every seat was filled! I definitely felt out of place!  My sense of humor being what it is, I chuckled softly and said to myself, "This must be what Custer felt like at Little Big Horn!  One white guy in the middle of all those ‘Injuns’!”  I had a definite advantage over Custer, however—I knew I was among fellow members of the Body of Christ.  I noticed the priest looking directly at me and smiling as if he knew what I was thinking! 

The Gospel was read, followed by a fifteen-minute homily—all in Spanish.  I must have looked confused as I tried to pick out words I knew in Spanish and make sense of them, because when he was finished with his homily the priest looked directly at me and asked, "How much Spanish do you know?"  To which I replied, "Practically, none."  He said, "Then I will give you the abbreviated version of what I just preached so you can have something to take with you."  I told him I appreciated his concern and listened to a homily that obviously came from his heart.  When he had said it in Spanish, he was pretty animated—I got the watered-down version, but the ‘spirit’ was still there.  To this day, I’m grateful that he noticed my discomfort at having to strain to find words I understood and made something cohesive out of it and gave me a "personal" homily I could not only ‘hear’, but ‘listen’ to.  After Mass, I had several parishioners thank me for coming that day.  What a great experience!

I have often wondered, likely as have many others, what it must have been like to listen to Jesus.  I wonder about His voice, His mannerisms, and His tone.  I wonder what it would have felt like to be in a crowd and for His eyes to rest on me, even for a moment.  What if He were speaking only to me, one-on-one?  For reasons like this I envy those who had the chance to walk with Him and hear Him.

Mark’s account of the Transfiguration and Saint James’ Epistle [James 3:1-10], at first, seem to be about speaking; more specifically, humanity's misuse of speech.  We have a knack for taking extraordinary gifts and misusing them, don't we?  As James tells us, this need not be so.

As it turns out, the verses aren’t about speaking at all.  At least, not about our speaking.  After seeing Jesus transfigured, Peter spoke although He hardly knew what to say, they were so terrified.  Then came the Father's voice from the clouds: “This is my beloved Son. Listen to him.”

Listen to him.

Unlike Peter, James and John we didn’t see Jesus transfigured.  Unlike Jesus' contemporaries, we haven’t heard His voice with our own ears.  Is it a taller order for us to carry out the Father's command here and now than it was for Peter, James and John who saw and heard these things?  I don't know.  But I'm inclined to keep trying.

I think the message of the gospel for us today is to take the words of God the Father from the Transfiguration as addressed to ourselves.  Just as He called the apostles long ago, God is calling us today to listen to the words of Jesus.  He’s asking us not merely to hear the words of Jesus, but to really and truly listen to them.  God wants us to listen very carefully to the words of Jesus that we hear in sacred scripture and in the teachings of the Church.  He’s calling us to imitate the apostles in our devotion to the following of Jesus.

True love requires sacrifice

 

“For just as a body without a spirit is dead, so also faith without works is dead.” [James 2:14-26]

“Light shines through the darkness for the upright; he is gracious and merciful and just.” [Psalm 112:1-6]

“What profit is there for one to gain the whole world and forfeit his life?  What could one give in exchange for his life?” [Mark 8:34-9:1]

As I reflect on these Bible passages today, it seems we’re getting some advice as to what to pay attention to in this world and what we’d be better off ignoring.

Saint James reminds us to let good works accompany us on our Faith walk.  The world surrounds us with many challenges including ways to help a neighbor who has lost a loved one.  Or the many people we don’t know living inside and outside of our own communities who are facing economic loss and despair.  With all of that need calling out around us, it’s hard to imagine being able to ignore the cry and do good works.  We know those needs never subside; Jesus said the poor will be with us always [Mark 14:7, Matthew 26:11].  If we listened exclusively, we’d just be overwhelmed, so it’s important to take these appeals to prayer; and ask God what needs some of our attention today.

In Psalm 112, the psalmist calls us to praise God and to give God the glory for any good we’ve experienced. “Well for the person who is gracious and lends and who conducts his affairs with justice…Blessed is the person who greatly delights in the Lord’s commands.”  How often are we grateful and daily praise God?

An almost opposing look into what we receive from our world is presented in the Gospel.  Jesus says to deny ourselves and take up our cross and follow Him.  For what does it mean to gain the ‘whole world’ and lose our lives in the process?  When my crosses get heavy (as they often do), I look to the world to soothe the ache and many times that can include going shopping (in stores or on online).   Now if you’re a retailer, you’d say, what would be wrong with that?  With all that advertising out there, it’s so easy to fall into the buying trap.  But the over emphasis of materialism in our culture is in stark contrast to helping those whose basic needs are not being met.  It seems to me as though we’re being asked to look for our happiness by helping out others, instead of drowning out our sorrows with whatever worldly means we use.  Jesus says consider helping someone, do a good work.  That choice has great potential to ease our pain too, because it will bring the type of happiness that has deep roots.  The two themes though different, fit together nicely.

It’s easy to desire to love and be loved, at least on a more superficial level.  Hopefully, we all enjoy kind and caring words, both giving them and receiving them.  But the true love of Christ, following His example of love, requires a desire for selfless and sacrificial love.  This is the perfection of love!  We’re called, ultimately, to love without even considering the cost or the demands that Christian love places upon us.  Or, to take it even further, we’re called to love even that which is painful and difficult when it’s the will of God.  His will most certainly includes acts of sacrifice.  True love, ultimately, desires even this.

It's human nature

 

I got to thinking today that the life of Simon Peter, the Apostle, is a wonderful story about human nature.  He was so much like each of us.  He knew his limitations and past unfaithfulness early on in his relationship with Jesus.  In his boat by the lakeside [Luke 5:1-11] he begged Jesus, “Leave me Lord.  I am a sinful man.”  Again, at the Last Supper [John 13:1-20], he told our Lord: “You shall never wash my feet!”  After Jesus told him, “If I do not wash you, you will have no part in my heritage.”, Peter replied, “Then my hands and head as well.”  It was a humble Peter growing in self-knowledge.

Then at Caesarea Philippi Peter answered, “You are the Christ.”  Peter must have felt he had arrived.  Maybe the other apostles were more intelligent, more holy, but he was the only one to proclaim Jesus the Messiah.  And for that God blessed him.  But He also let Peter know that it was the heavenly Father who gave him the grace to know this truth.

Seems like Peter forgot this circumstance.  Later on, when Jesus predicts His passion and death, Peter decides to let the Lord know how things should progress.   “God forbid that any such thing should happen to you.”  Peter would take charge.  Christ needn’t suffer.  And Jesus played no favorites [James 2:1-9].  In front of all the disciples He let Peter feel the sting of His rebuke.  “Get behind me Satan. You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do.” [Mark 8:27-33]

Peter recovered fast.  Again, at the Last Supper He told Our Lord: “I will lay down my life for you.”  Trusting in himself, once again he fell flat on his face.  Denying Christ three times, he heard the cock crow [Luke 22: 31-34, 54-62].

But after Christ’s Resurrection, at the ‘fish fry’ on the seashore [John 21:1-19], Peter was again true to form.  “Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you.”  He was as much as saying; Lord if you’re God, and I believe you are, then you know all things.  You know that I love you.  Don’t ask me to prove it.  I can’t.  And don’t look at my track record.  It’s a disaster.  But since you are God and know all things, you must know that I love you.  Peter had finally begun to know himself and to know God.  No wonder he was Christ’s choice to feed the lambs and feed the sheep.

Going deep

Today, I feel blessed to have read two wonderful passages in the Bible that really allowed me to reflect on my relationship with God. The first is from James [James 1:19-27]. The Letter of James is renowned for its call to make the Christian life a life of depth and not of superficiality.  He finds many ways to point to a life which isn’t merely a collection of good thoughts and kind wishes, but a life rich in actions.  From this letter we receive the often-quoted reminder that “Faith without works is dead.”

What struck me most about James’ words is the variety of ways in which he envisions faith being expressed in actions, in which the Christian life is to be one of depth. The passage’s reminder that true faith consists in “looking after orphans and widows” sounds just like the James I studied before choosing him for my ‘Confirmation saint’ as a teenager.  But slipped in just as easily are James’ injunctions to “control the tongue” and to “keep oneself unspotted by the world.”

Most surprising is the leadoff line which James sends our way, commanding us to “be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger.”  If ever there was a call to depth and not superficiality, this is it.  But could we think of three things that our contemporary society finds more difficult?

Quick to hear.  Sounds roar around us without interruption.  Normal, unavoidable sounds aren’t enough; we need “background sound.”  To really hear what someone else is saying demands that we stop and receive from another, that we allow the other’s words to “go deep.”  Are we anxious to “receive from another?”

Slow to speak.  From Twitter and Facebook and Instagram to talk shows, we’re not very slow to speak.  Talking “off the top of our heads” or “from the hip” without much depth comes easily to us.  Yet we’re delighted when we hear someone who speaks “from the heart.”  Do we speak “from the heart?”

Slow to anger.  I doubt that James would mind ‘good’ anger at injustices and other things that “shouldn’t be.”  What he would find hard to handle would be our society’s tendency to blame others first before looking at our own responsibility, the tendency to react rather than to respond.  When difficult words come our way, do we “react” or do we “respond?”

In the Gospel passage [Mark 8:22-26], Mark tells the story of Jesus and His healing of a blind man.  A lot has been written about this account with much focus on why Jesus took two attempts at curing the man’s blindness.  The best way for me to make sense of this reading is to relate it to my own life.  

I was baptized and then grew up in a Catholic family.  Throughout life, Mom (and even Dad, although he was not Catholic but supported Mom’s efforts to raise the children Catholic) stressed the importance of the Mass and being good Catholics.  And I think my faith was fairly strong – yes, I could ‘see’, but my religious life was fuzzy or not completely focused.  Junior high, high school, and even college was a little unfocused spiritually—people looked like “walking trees.”  I was fortunate enough to be given a second chance at enhancing my faith when I stumbled across EWTN radio and television stations while driving to work one day.  They provided a new perspective of Jesus and my relationship to him and God.  That spurred me to go to Confession after a long absence, further reading and inquiry and eventually into a deeper understanding of Jesus and my relationship with God.  And it was through this inquiry and my willingness to hear God’s message that my spiritual sight was restored, and I was able to see clearly and to truly get it.  Now, is my spirituality or my connection with God always perfectly clear?  No — but when it occasionally becomes fuzzy, it always seems to help when I purposely reconnect with God through more intense study or by being more open to hearing his word.

Quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger.  James encourages us to let these actions flow from our faith.  What a life of depth that demands! 

Don't miss the wheelbarrows

 

There's an old story that comes out of Communist Russia.  Each day at quitting time, in all the factories, the guards would check all the workers to make sure that they weren't stealing anything.  Night after night, as Ivan left the factory, he would be frisked, have his wheelbarrow examined, and then told to leave.  After several months of this procedure, one of the guards called him aside one night after everyone else had left and said:  "I know that you’re stealing something, but I can never find it.  It's driving me crazy.  Please, you can trust me.  Tell me and I won't tell anyone.  What are you stealing?"  Ivan simply responded:  "Wheelbarrows."

So often we, too, miss the obvious.  Through a series of eight questions in Mark’s gospel, Jesus taught that we often miss the obvious and misunderstand Him, as the Pharisees did.  In this scene, the disciples weren't really listening to Jesus.  They were only thinking that they had forgotten the bread:  they were going to go hungry [Mark 8:14-21].

Jesus very gently chided them for their self-absorption.  He reminded them that twice He had fed crowds of thousands with just a handful of loaves and fishes.  And that they, the disciples, had personally collected many baskets of leftovers [Mark 8:1–10; 6:31–44].  He then asked a question here that he would ask again several times throughout the gospels: "You still don't understand?"  In other words:  "Hasn't experience taught you that you need not worry about things like this, if you are with me?"  That's the secret:  to remember Who is with us--always.  And to see what God has done for us, how we have risen time and time again from the ashes of defeat and discouragement, of illness and loneliness, of sin--the list could be endless.

May we live each day with the eyes of faith, seeing the blessings that have been ours from our first birth breath until this moment.

"Dear Lord, grant us the grace each day to compose a litany of gratitude for all that we have and for all that we are.  And help us not to miss the 'wheelbarrows' of our lives."  Amen.

No one is a stranger to suffering

 

No human being is a stranger to suffering because suffering comes to all of us.  Granted, the degree to which each of us suffers can be wide ranged, so the question, then, is not whether we’ll suffer, but how will we respond to it?  The apostle James tells us to “count it pure joy” whenever we’re faced with trials and troubles, setbacks and adversity [James 1:1-11].  I sometimes wonder—is this good pastoral advice?  Is it even rational?

Christianity doesn’t claim that suffering is good, but it does teach that we can make our suffering productive of good.  As my mother used to tell us children, “Offer it up for something good!”  Christianity doesn’t encourage us to seek suffering, but it does affirm that we can grow through our suffering.  Suffering is productive of good when we seize it as an opportunity to reassess our values and priorities, our goals and ambitions.  In this respect, suffering can re-center us by reminding us of what’s most important in life.  Similarly, we grow through our suffering when we use a fundamentally negative experience to lead to positive results.  This happens when suffering makes us more attuned to the struggles and hardships of others, when it makes us less judgmental and more compassionate.

James tells us to rejoice in our sufferings—in the tears and sorrows that come our way—not because there’s anything intrinsically good about those experiences, but because through them our faith can be cleansed and deepened.  Perhaps the most important lesson we can learn from suffering about the nature of genuine faith is that faith is the steadfast and resilient conviction that no matter what might be happening in our lives, God is faithful and trustworthy.  Moreover, suffering shatters the fatal illusion that we can make it through life on our own, by reminding us of something that we find so hard to accept: our absolute and enduring dependence on God.  As the apostle James’ prediction about the rich man assures us, none of us can make ourselves safe or secure.  Despite what our society preaches, we shouldn’t place our faith in money or possessions, in power or status, but in God.  If suffering has taught us that, we can count ourselves blessed.

The best is yet to come

 

There’s a couple of verses from the book of the Prophet Jeremiah that sound to me more like something from the Book of Wisdom or Proverbs.  They interrupt a foretelling of punishment and exile for the sins of the people.  Right in the middle of that, are placed some reflections about what is worth putting trust in and what is not [Jeremiah 17:5-8].

Two images from nature are employed to focus the contrast.  The “cursed” person who trusts in “flesh” or exclusively in other “human beings” and so not in the Lord, are like a barren bush.  Fruitlessly that bush is planted in what cannot nourish or sustain.

That person is contrasted with the one who does put trust in the Lord.  That person is a tree planted near a stream.  That tree fears not the rejection of weather and drought but yields fruit in all seasons.

These verses remind the people of Israel that their foretold punishment is a result of not trusting in the God of their creation.  They’ve become like the barren bush in a desert of fruitlessness. The prophet is telling them that they’re going to receive what they deserve.

I also read Luke’s version of the Beatitudes today, sometimes referred to as “the Sermon on the Plains” [Luke 6:17-26].  This passage is very similar to the Sermon on the Mount found in Matthew’s Gospel [Matthew 5:1-12], although the number of Beatitudes differs, and Luke’s Gospel includes “woes”.  A lot of scripture scholars believe that these are two accounts of the same event.  So here in Luke’s Gospel, as in Jeremiah, we have a contrast of attitudes and consequences.

Luke pictures Jesus as speaking directly to His disciples and not primarily to the crowds.  He presents Jesus also as speaking of a “now” reality of their attitude towards possessions of four kinds.  The spirituality of Luke’s presentation of Jesus is living free from the falsely personal identity which comes from wealth, self-satisfaction, relational possessiveness and personal adulation or popularity.  More simply, whom or what do we trust for life’s meaning and happiness?

It's said that there are two groups of people in this world; those who eat the filling in an Oreo cookie first and those who don’t (I’m in the former group, BTW).  In a sense, that’s the call of Jesus to those who wish to travel life’s road with Him.  With Luke’s portrayal of Jesus, there’s always a choice, always an invitation.  The gestures, the words are an offer to invest in the “then” or “later” instead of ingesting and digesting in the “now.”  As good as the having and holding onto now is, the trusting in what comes after is promised to be better.

In keeping with the spirit of Jeremiah, we can say that the person who takes the “now” train trusts that it really leads to blessed happiness. That person trusts that only other persons, only material things, only personal popularity is worth the living.  Those who take the “later” train have an attitude towards all other human beings, other material things, personal esteem as very good and gifts from God which lead to God.  Those persons love the gifts, reverence them, but don’t make gods of them.  By their attitude towards themselves and all else, they’re saying that the Giver is not yet done giving and the best is yet to come, but later.

Jesus isn’t a hunch we play.  Jesus is the Word of God calling each one of us to decide how we will relate with life.  There’s no doubt that there’s something within us that wants it all and now and forever, or for at least until we can find something better.  That’s common sense, but we’re invited to have an uncommon sense.  We’re to be unusual about how we answer our natural self-centered drives.  They’re not bad in themselves, but they can lead us to the barren desert of self-production.  What we get isn’t a curse but what we deserve, our hollow selves.

Poverty, of all sorts, is not directly a blessing.  The attitude of knowing where all things and persons come from and what are their meanings, is the blessed attitude which Jesus offers those who desire to follow Him more closely.

Take it or leave it, for later.