Burning Bush moments

 

When I read from the book of Exodus today,  I was struck by the fact that Moses’ life and vocation were changed forever because he was aware of what was happening around him, he took the time to investigate, he was open to God, and he was willing to engage and listen. Sure, a burning bush that doesn’t consume itself is a curiosity, but still, a burning bush is not utterly unique, and if he had been wrapped up in his own problems or thoughts, or in a hurry, he could have easily passed by, assuming the bush would soon burn up or that someone else would be along to tend to it. How often do we pass by someone or something that could transform us, if we were open to them or it? Would God necessarily speak to us directly and give us a message as important as the message God gave Moses? Maybe not, but maybe. God does have desires and plans for each of us, just as God had desires and plans for Moses. I think each of us can think back to special people and happenings in our lives that have changed us forever and brought great blessings into our lives. Fresh out of high school, my plan was to get a college degree in Police Science, go into law enforcement, and maybe, after twenty years or so, run for political office. One person that made an enormous impression upon me and changed the course of my life was a co-worker I met while working at McDonalds earning money for my tuition; but my heart wasn’t in it, and I was ready to quit.  My co-worker was a man whose only responsibilities were chatting with customers and bussing their tables after they left.  If it was my job, I would have been sad and angry, and bored.  Not Dennis!  He amazed me with his ability to show up on time, in uniform, and cheerful every single day—despite the fact he lived alone and had no driver license.  You see, he was severely physically and mentally handicapped.  We became pretty good friends, and he invited me out for drinks after work one evening.  He explained that his car stalled on some railroad tracks some years earlier, and he was struck by a train going an estimated 60-70 miles an hour.  He said that he was in a coma for over a year, but through the grace of God and great doctors he learned how to walk, speak, and function again, albeit in a diminished capacity.  He had been perusing a career in mathematics, but he felt no regrets!  I feel that he was definitely a messenger from God, and he taught me many things about life and faith, even without being aware he was doing so!  His story, and the impression he made on me made me realize that I could make this restaurant business a career, instead of law enforcement and politics, and I stayed with McDonalds.  If not for that decision I would not have met my wife and have the greatest family a man can ask for!   Each of us have many special encounters like these, and more, if we’re open and responsive to the Lord.  Let us pray that we use the remaining time in Lent to reflect upon the many times God has spoken to our hearts throughout the course of our lives, and to ask for a renewed sense of the Divine here and now, and in the days and years to come.

A special bond with a very special man

When Marilyn and I found out she was pregnant with Alicia, I was elated!  More than that, though—I was Scared, with a capital “S”! 

How was I ever going to live up to the expectations of my child?  I didn’t even know her yet, but I knew she’d expect a lot from me growing up.  You know what?  She did.  Both of my daughters expected a lot from me.  Not material expectations, but love.  I hope I’ve been able to live up to their expectations.

I know the feeling of helplessness and wonder about how to raise a child.  And while my children are gifts from God that I am charged with teaching life’s lessons, I can’t imagine what it must have felt like to know that the child I was raising IS God!  I’m sure Joseph knew.  I believe God gives fathers (and of course mothers-even more so!) the grace to instinctively know their children’s strengths and weaknesses and how to teach them to reach their full potential.  What a daunting task for Joseph!  What could he possibly teach Jesus?

The answer is—everything Jesus needed to learn in His human Nature.  He humbled Himself to be born as a helpless baby, in a stall, surrounded by animals and the “poorest of the poor”, the few shepherds that were present.  And, like any other human child, He needed His mother’s milk, and His stepfather’s protection and guidance growing up.

Today, the Church celebrates the Solemnity of St. Joseph, the husband of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

While we don’t know many details of St. Joseph’s life, we do know that he was a skilled craftsman, a carpenter by trade.  We also know that he was a righteous man, a just man.  He took his calling of husband very seriously, and along with Mary, his wife, taught the child Jesus about God, goodness, compassion, fidelity to tradition and generosity to those in need.

Joseph underwent many struggles as the husband of Mary and the father of Jesus.  His happiness at the prospect of taking Mary into his home as his wife was shattered when he discovered that Mary was pregnant.  He wasn’t the father.  He must have spent many sleepless nights wrestling with the best way to deal with what he thought was Mary’s infidelity.  We can image how he must have felt: betrayed, devasted, uncertain of his future and broken-hearted.  He was a man of faith, a man of justice, a man who knew the law and who wanted to live according to God’s Law.

But Joseph was also a man of God, formed by his deep faith in the living legacy of the Hebrew scriptures and traditions.  His faith helped him accept the God who broke into our human story time and time again, to bring freedom and grace, dignity and hope, a new beginning and a new creation.  He believed in a living God, who speaks to us in loving ways, even as God gives us the strength to endure many hardships.

God spoke to Joseph and said to take Mary into his home.  He heard and he obeyed.  He did the right thing because he was a righteous man.

Joseph was not only Mary’s loving husband, but he was also Jesus’ loving parent.  Along with Mary, Joseph taught Jesus well.  Under their care, Jesus grew “steadily in wisdom and age and grace before God and men.” [Luke 2:51]

Jesus, Mary and Joseph didn’t live during the best of times.  They lived in an occupied country that was ruled by a cruel Roman empire and by a puppet Jewish governor, Herod.  Their religious leaders were divided and fighting each other.  At any given time, these authorities could disrupt the lives of the people of Israel.  Joseph, head of the family, saw his role as keeping Mary and Jesus safe and secure in the midst of the chaos and confusion that was part of everyday life.

We, the Church (and especially fathers), honor and celebrate the life of St. Joseph this day because he’s such a good example for us in the world we live in today.  More than ever, we live in a world that lacks a moral compass, where good and evil aren’t recognized as social conditions, and leaders are no longer respectful and committed to the common good.

We celebrate St. Joseph’s fidelity to the traditions of his ancestors.  We celebrate his openness to God’s voice in his life.  We celebrate his love for his wife, Mary.  We celebrate his parenting of his son, Jesus.  We celebrate his sense of justice and his integrity.

It’s nice to know that as a father, I share a special bond with Joseph, and that I have examples I can draw from when I feel overwhelmed in my role.

St. Joseph, husband of Mary and father of Jesus, pray for us! 

Don't overlook the cornerstones

 

As I reflected during my Scripture reading today, I could almost hear Paul Harvey, a radio voice from the past, intoning, “And now you know the rest of the story.”

In Genesis, Joseph, the last son of Jacob, seems a person easy to hate.  It's easy to see why Joseph's brothers, Reuben and the rest, hated him so much.  After all, here was the youngest, the least productive, the smart aleck kid who was the apple of his father's eye.  No matter how hard the other brothers worked, they would never be doted on like Joseph!  He got the fancy coat; he had his father's ear; he was the favorite.

The brothers, green with envy, wanted to kill the boy.  But Reuben, the eldest, the one who charged with protecting all the brothers, the one who had most to lose in Jacob's preference for Joseph, had a twinge of conscience.  And so, selling Joseph into slavery, the brothers moved on with their lives [Genesis 37:3-28].  Probably for some years the brothers thought, "Well, it was tough to see Old Jacob grieve but, geez, that kid was a royal pain!  He was just so obnoxious!  It's good we're rid of him."

We KNOW that Joseph eventually became powerful and rescued his brothers.  

In Matthew, Jesus tells the chief priests and Pharisees the parable of the tenants.  The landowner sends his servants to the tenants at harvest time to collect the fruit of the vineyard.  One servant is beaten, another killed and another stoned.  The landowner sends other servants with the same results.  Finally, the landowner sends his son, thinking they will respect his son.  The son is murdered [Matthew 21:33-46].

We KNOW that Jesus died at the hands of His enemies and eventually triumphed.  

It’s hard not to instinctively finish the stories mentally.

We have to remember that Joseph’s brothers didn’t expect to see him again and that the Pharisees couldn’t have imagined that Jesus would be worshiped worldwide 2000 years later.

“The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.” [Psalms 118:22]

This says something important to us about our dealings with other people, especially those less powerful than ourselves. Our words and actions can have unimagined and unintended repercussions for years to come.

For example, our company for the last 10 years or so gave every team member an opportunity to evaluate their immediate supervisors anonymously and without fear of reprisal.  I usually had a team of anywhere from 10-25 persons who would comment on my interactions with them.  While most remarks were kind, I was chagrined to find out that throw away remarks during the course of a workday could inadvertently hurt feelings, or that I came off as insensitive, unfair – you name it.  It wasn’t intentional but it happened.  Mea culpa.

We need to remember that the “stones” we’re inclined to reject because they’re irritating, slow, pompous, misguided etc. might well “become the cornerstone.”  Like Joseph’s brothers and the Pharisees, we just don’t know.

However, we can never go wrong by being saying something encouraging when someone looks downcast and taking extra time to reach out and help.  Even small things may have unknown impact for the good.  One more thing to work on during Lent!

A punch to the gut

 After my brother Tom passed away too early (at age 44), I started to write down things that affected me so that I could use them a) for an examination of conscience, and b) as a sort of therapy to deal with my grief.  My ‘journal’ eventually evolved into this blog.  Every once in a while, I’ll go back through my ‘journal’ entries and look for personal experiences that might help me in edifying the Gospels as I reflect on them.  Today, I came across this entry, which (through the Holy Spirit?) I think happens to tie in perfectly with the Gospel I chose to reflect on (it was originally written on July 24, 2004):

I went to the service station this morning to gas up the Pathfinder.  As I was pulling up, I noticed a man doubled over in pain, and obviously drunk.  My heart was torn, because although I wanted to walk up and talk to him to ask him how he was and if he needed any help, I didn’t.  I should have, but I didn’t.  Not very Christ-like.  I’m ashamed. 

I’m also disturbed that when I went inside to pay for the gas, the kid behind the counter was LAUGHING about the man’s discomfort.  He said he had called the POLICE, when what the man needed was obviously an ambulance.

All of the parables in the gospel are packed with meaning, but a few of them carry a punch to one’s gut. One such parable is in Luke’s gospel, when Jesus asks us to consider something shocking [Luke 16:19-31].  How could a man who has everything allow another man, whose only possessions were the sores covering his body, to die right before his eyes?  How could a man who feasts fabulously everyday not budge to share even the scraps from his table with the starving neighbor sitting at his gate?

It seems absolutely unthinkable—and irreparably scandalous—but we know it happens all the time, like it apparently happened on my ‘watch’, in my memory above.  Like the rich man in the gospel story, we can use wealth and luxury to insulate us from the intolerable sufferings of others.  We can become so accustomed to making self-satisfying pleasures the driving desire of our lives that we become comfortably oblivious to the afflicted and destitute among us, the many who, like Lazarus, are so grievously deprived of what any human being needs to survive that they die a little more each day.

Of course, there’s a fatal misperception at the core of the rich man’s life.  Nestled in the plump security of his life, he fails to see that he, not Lazarus, is the one truly in trouble.  He’s so stupendously deceived that he’s genuinely surprised when death takes him not to the comforting bosom of Abraham, but to the “abode of the dead” where he, who had tortured Lazarus by his casual indifference, is now “tortured in these flames.”  There, in the kingdom of the dead, no love can reach him, no mercy can soothe him, because, as Jesus sternly declares, there is now an unbridgeable abyss between the rich man in his torment and Lazarus who, upon dying, was “carried by the angels to the bosom of Abraham.”

This parable’s punch shows us that when we fail to help a neighbor in need, intentionally distancing ourselves from them, we likewise distance ourselves from God.  After a while, that distance becomes an abyss.  As the rich man belatedly discovered, this truth may surprise us, but it will also condemn us.

Lord of true riches, please free me from my selfishness.  Help me, instead, to remain focused upon the dignity of all people and to pour myself out in their service.  May I discover in the poor, the broken and the humble, an image of You.  And as I discover Your presence in their lives, may I love You, in them, seeking to be an instrument of Your mercy.  Jesus, I trust in You.

Leadership is challenging

 

As someone with decades of experience in management and leadership, I can say that leadership is demanding.  It might also be said to be an ‘art’ and a subtle one at that.  It’s far easier in those times when a group or organization is growing and progressing; such times are exciting, the groups have high energy and leaders, and members can see the results of their efforts – often before their very eyes.

In times of trial, disappointment, struggle, or persecution leadership is equally vital, but it takes on a different character.  Leadership in difficult times, especially when hostility is directed at leaders themselves, is deeply challenging.  At such times validation must come not from external success or adulation and approval, but from deep within.  In times of persecution especially leaders must draw on a well of deep resources; hope, trust, and faith to persevere and to lead.  In times of persecution or trial ‘good’ can seem to be repaid with evil [Jeremiah 18:18-20].

Jesus was all too aware of such dynamics.

“Can you drink the chalice that I am going to drink?” He asked those who followed and sought to hold office and authority [Matthew 20:17-28].

Power, position, privilege, and prestige are often associated with leadership – and they can be seductively alluring.  To seek only these aspects is to be led astray and instead of leading one is being led – and the mission suffers.  If one only sees leadership in the light of its associated aspects then one misses the mark completely.

In the vision of Jesus, leadership goes beyond mere titles and even position in a group structure.  For Jesus leadership might have trappings, but they weren’t His concern, rather He spoke to the essential dynamic of leading – service.  “Whoever wishes to be great among you shall be your servant; whoever wishes to be first among you shall be your slave”.

While Jesus saw that leading entailed witness and was observed to entail ‘seats’ of office – He was more concerned to stress that a leader must also be able and prepared to endure betrayal, restriction of liberty and even death.  He spoke openly of His ‘chalice’ as symbolic of these realities.

It’s my opinion that greatest leaders also know when to step aside and let their followers shine.  We have the finest of leaders to follow.  “The Son of Man did not come to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many.”

Humility enables us

 

Humility seems like such a contradiction.  We’re easily tempted to think that the way to greatness involves letting everyone know all that we do well.  There’s a constant temptation for most people to put forward their best face and to hope others will see that and admire it.  We want to be noticed and praised.  And we often try to make that happen by the little things we do and say.  And often we tend to exaggerate who we are.

On the flip side, if someone criticizes us and thinks ill of us it has the potential of being devastating.  If we hear that someone said something negative about us we may go home and be depressed or angry about it the rest of the day, or even the rest of the week, because our pride is wounded, and that wound can hurt.  It can hurt unless we discover the gift of humility within our hearts.

Humility is a virtue that enables us to be real.   It enables us to cut through any false persona we may have and simply be who we are.  It enables us to be comfortable with our good qualities as well as our failures.  Humility is nothing other than being honest and true about our lives and being comfortable with that person.

Jesus gives us a wonderful lesson in Matthew’s Gospel that’s very hard to live but is absolutely key to living a happy life: “Whoever exalts himself will be humbled; but whoever humbles himself will be exalted.” [Matthew 23:1-12]   He wants us to be exalted!  He wants us to be noticed by others.  He wants our light of goodness to shine for all to see and for that light to make a difference.  But He wants it done in truth, not by presenting a false persona.  He wants the real “me” to shine forth.  And that’s humility.

Humility is sincerity and genuineness.  And when people see this quality in us they’re impressed.  Not so much in a worldly way but in an authentic human way.  They won’t look at us and be envious, rather, they’ll look at us and see the true qualities we have and enjoy them, admire them and want to imitate them.

Just for good measure

 

The Lenten season was so named because the days become longer in parts of the world at this time; Spring arrives.  The days from Ash Wednesday to Easter Sunday encompass a time in which the “ashes” of last year’s vegetation gradually are pushed aside by rain and new growth.  It symbolically is a great time to dwell on the fact that God allows us to rise from the ashes and destruction of sin, and to move closer to fulfilling our part of the covenant with Him.  We begin our Lenten journey marked by ashes and “shamefaced”, as Daniel writes [Daniel 9:4-10], because “we have sinned, been wicked, and done evil.”  We’re made aware that God loves us despite our disobedience and rebelliousness.  We’re only asked to love God and to keep His commandments.  During the course of the Lenten season, we need to dwell not only on our propensity to drift away from the love of God and His commandments, but also on His love and forgiveness, and our salvation through Him.  In reading Psalm 79, we pray, “deliver us and pardon our sins for your name’s sake.” [Psalms 79:8-13]

The gospel I reflected on today is given by Jesus in “a good measure, packed together, shaken down, and overflowing” [Luke 6:36-38].  The message is concise, condensed, and immensely rewarding.  If we consider our interactions with others in our troubled world, we have to ask ourselves, are we still the disobedient and rebellious sinners that Daniel writes about?  Are we following Jesus’ admonition to stop judging; to stop condemning; and to forgive others?  It seems that too often we haven’t brought this message into our hearts.  We need to pray that we become more welcoming to the oppressed and the needy.  We need to open our hearts and arms to those who lately have been cast adrift to seek refuge; to have mercy; to forgive; and not to judge. “The measure with which you measure will in return be measured out to you."

A "seeing through" experience

 

"Look toward heaven and count the stars," a line from the Book of Genesis, reminds me of the immensity of the universe [Genesis 15:5-18].  It makes me recall some of the campouts I went on when I was in the Boy Scouts.  There were so many stars out that we could actually see all of the constellations at once without having to look very hard. Those of us who were going for our Astronomy merit badges would make sure we had a brand-new battery in our flashlights so we could aim the beams at the different stars that made up the constellations and amaze the younger guys with our knowledge.

We could even see some of the nebulae, or "clouds" around clusters of stars.  And, once in a while, even a planet was visible to the naked eye.  On particularly warm, clear nights we would beg the scoutmasters to let us "sleep under the stars", rather than in tents.  Shooting stars would occur about every 10 minutes and almost invariably someone would let out a sigh, or a gasp, or even a shout of "Oh, my God!" without realizing they were in fact praising the Creator for the view.

This reaction is natural. Anyone who has experienced a night sky like this knows what I'm talking about. Even the most scientific-minded individual must know instinctively that the universe didn't create itself. One can't look at this sight and not feel God's hand in all of it.

To this day, whenever I’m in a situation like this where the wonders of the world of the Creator are displayed for me, I’m invited to notice God's goodness in a more special way.  Lent offers the opportunity to us all to begin to open our eyes to those wonders and our ears to hear of the awesome goodness of God.  What an incredible opportunity that is!

In all three synoptic gospels, the three special disciples of Jesus—Peter, James and John—are given such an invitation to see God's glory as it shines through Jesus.  The Transfiguration scene is one of the rare times in the gospels where God's glory shines through Jesus.  It’s the very presence of God able to be seen vividly in its dazzling display [Matthew 17:1-3; Mark 9:2-13; Luke 9:28-36].

The Transfiguration of Jesus is a "seeing through" experience.  Peter, James and John were privileged to have such an experience of "seeing through" to the reality of Jesus and His intimate relationship with God.  Can I be attentive to those kinds of "seeing through" experiences in my life?    My prayer is that I be open to them in every corner of my life, and, with God's grace, to see the depths of God's glory as it shines towards me.

Moment to moment

 

When I read the Gospel for my reflection today, I remembered a joke that Mitch Hedburg used to tell: My parents told me that “practice makes perfect”.  Then a teacher told me “Nobody’s perfect.”  I quit practicing.   

Perfection is our calling, nothing less.  The danger in trying to shoot for something less is that you might actually attain it.  Then what?  In other words, if you settle only for being “pretty good” you might actually become “pretty good.”   But pretty good isn’t good enough according to Jesus.  He wants perfection!  This is a high calling. [Matthew 5:43-48]

Perfection can seem overwhelming and almost beyond reasonable expectations.  We may even get discouraged at the idea.  But if we understand what perfection really is, then we may not be intimidated by the thought at all.  In fact, we may find ourselves deeply desiring it and making it our new goal in life.

At first, perfection can seem like something only the great saints of old lived.  But for every saint we may read about in a book, there are thousands more that have never been recorded in history and many other future saints living today.  Imagine that.  When we get to Heaven, we’ll certainly be in awe of the great saints we know about.  But think about the countless others that we’ll be introduced to for the first time in Heaven.  These men and women strove for and found the path of true happiness.  They discovered they were meant for perfection.

Perfection means we’re striving to live each and every moment in the grace of God.  Just living here and now immersed in God’s grace.  We don’t yet have tomorrow, and yesterday is gone forever.  All we have is this single present moment.  And it’s this moment that we’re called to live perfectly. 

Certainly, each one of us can seek perfection for a moment.  We can surrender to God here and now and seek only His will in this moment.   We can pray, offer selfless charity, make an act of extraordinary kindness and the like.   And if we can do it in this present moment then what’s keeping us from doing it in the next moment?

Over time, the more we live each moment in God’s grace and strive to surrender each moment over to His will, we get stronger, and we get holier.  We slowly build habits that make each and every moment easier.  Over time, the habits we form make us who we are and draw us into perfection. 

Do what is right and just

 

I’m sometimes a little taken aback whenever I read scripture readings like those I read today.  A reading from Ezekiel seems so harsh and scary and yet the message is clear, “do what is right and just” [Ezekiel 18:21-28].   I’m reminded of my need to pay attention to what God has told us and not to confuse civil law with God’s law(s).  I thought about the death penalty when reading Ezekiel and how imposing this civil law defies God’s call for allowing people, who have committed grave acts of violence, to come to accept responsibility for their actions; to ask for forgiveness and then to choose to live according to God’s laws.

Then, after reading a Psalm [Psalms 130:1-8] and a Gospel I thought, “most people in my daily life are pretty good people.”  The Psalm made me begin to reflect upon how easily we can become complacent in our daily living, believing, “I’m a pretty good person, so I’ll just continue on with my life.”  We become less critical about our shortcomings, or what we might consider minor infractions against others.  Our opportunities to grow in understanding how God is asking us to live our lives is easily forgotten.

Lent isn’t just about giving up candy or soda; it’s about giving up sin.  It’s about giving up anything that keeps us away from God and spirituality.  And as I understand my reading of Ezekiel today, there’s a huge benefit to giving up sin.  Anyone who turns away from sin will be rewarded.  Anyone, even someone very sinful, can turn away from that sin, and God will rejoice at the conversion.  God doesn’t rejoice in punishing sinners, but rather in having sinners turn away from sin to be reclaimed.  Of course, we have to stay away.  A virtuous person who turns toward sin will suffer the same fate as the unrepentant sinner.  It’s an on-going process.  We can’t just turn away from sin like giving something up for Lent.  We can’t ‘give up’ sin for 40 days, and then start up again.  But even the worst sinners who truly turn their lives around and stay that way can be saved.

The problem can be, as we see in Matthew’s Gospel [Matthew 5:20-26], that we’re not just talking about ‘big’ sins.  Even things that seem ‘little’ can take us away from God and His mercy.  Sure, we can say, “Oh, I’ve never killed anyone or done anything horrible like that. I’m fine.”  But have we ever ‘wished someone dead’?  Jesus says that anger toward our brother takes us away from God as well.  By spitting on our brother or calling names, we’re separating from our family and from God.  In condemning our brothers, we’re in effect condemning ourselves.

Lent is about giving up more than candy.  It’s about giving up our negative attitudes and whatever keeps us from God.  It’s about reconciliation.  By reconciling with our brothers, we take the first step to reconciling with God and the Church.

Little investment, high returns

My Scripture reading today seems to me to deal with fright and peace—fright in the face of problems, and peace in the knowledge of God.  In an Old Testament reading, Esther was "seized with deathly anxiety." [Esther C: 12-25]

It seems that anxiety is a daily occurrence for most of us these days.  In some ways it's nice to know that our spiritual ancestors of 2000+ years ago had anxiety—it makes us feel less alone.  On the other hand, anxiety is no fun—no fun at all.  When we have anxiety, we feel set apart—alone, as Esther felt—beset with afflictions.  We feel set apart, sometimes, from God.

The good part is that God does answer—a Psalm tells us that "thou didst answer me,” and that "my strength of soul thou didst increase. Though I walk in the midst of trouble, thou dost preserve my life; thou dost stretch out thy hand against the wrath of my enemies, and thy right hand delivers me."  God knows what we are going through. [Psalms 138:1-8]

Knowing this is a powerful tonic.  It  works. I remember driving into work some days Some days feeling like there was a gorilla in my office I would have to wrestle to get through the day.  But then I tried to remember why I was there—what I was there to do—and what tools I'd been given to accomplish my tasks—among them the support and love of a very understanding God--and things fell into perspective.  I shared my imagined fears with God, and they seemed much less.  By the time I got to the office door, I knew there was no gorilla.  

But there's a little price for all this good stuff.  Jesus tells us: "Ask, and it will be given you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you."   [Matthew 7:7-12]  So far, so good.  But doesn't this seem a little too easy ?  Granted, God loves us all and will love us all, always.  But should we do something in return?  Jesus gives us a gentle hint: "...So whatever you wish that men would do to you, do so to them."  Be nice.  Understand.  Think.  Have perspective.  Don't be a jerk, don't get steamed at the poor slob in the other car who may well have had a day like you nearly had. There, but for the grace of God, etc....

Or in other words, take a little baby step toward being more like God.  It's not too much to ask, given the returns we get.

God....repented!

 

We’re a week into Lent and I’m still undecided on what my Lenten sacrifice should be this year.  The sacrifice we choose should be something that brings us closer to God.  As is my custom, I turned to the Word of God (the Bible), to help me discern.  One verse in particular has given me something to consider.

"When God saw by their actions how they turned from their evil way, he repented of the evil that he had threatened to do them; he did not carry it out." [Jonah 3:10]

I know I’m getting old and sometimes my mind wanders, but did I read that verse correctly and in context?

God . . . repented!

It boggles my mind to think of God repentant.  I always associated repentance with one in need of God's forgiveness and grace.  The notion of God considering His love for the Ninevites, their response to Jonah and deciding that no, after all, He wouldn’t punish them somehow brings me closer to the Lord [Jonah 3:1-10].

Jonah's story speaks to me of God's deep love for all of us.  Nothing but deep love is so swift to recognize sincere repentance, so quick to turn anger aside and embrace reconciliation.  How apt this story is for the season of Lent!

In a passage from Luke, Jesus castigates an "evil generation" because it demands a sign, a show, a proof.  He compares the generation unfavorably with the Ninevites, who heard the word of God through Jonah and accepted it instantly [Luke 11:29-32].

How many times have I demanded some sign, some proof, not only from God, but from friends, family members, people I love?  Why does God, or anyone else, have to prove anything to me?

Yet, like Jonah, sometimes I’m unwilling to give God a break.  Sometimes I’m unwilling to give anyone a break, including myself.

Maybe I could avoid this kind of harshness, for Lent at least.  It might just bring me closer to God.

Our heart is what is important when praying

 

I am a firm believer in prayer.  I’ve been asked over the years to lead others in prayer, whether it was for a company function or a family get-together.  Many times, I stumble over the words, or my syntax is garbled, or I get too flustered to make a ‘smooth-sounding’ delivery.  I sometimes worry that my prayers aren’t effective if they aren’t concise, that I’m not praying the ‘right way’.  But in my reflection on the Scriptures today, I think that attitude might change.  At least, that’s my hope.  My Lenten reading today led me to reflect on the question, how should we pray? 

If we don’t have the words, we needn’t worry, the Holy Spirit will interpret them for us to the Father.  What is in our heart is what’s important.  Hence, there’s no wrong or right way to pray.  Jesus left us an example of what should always be in our heart when we pray.  We all speak with different words and different languages, but God knows the heart and He listens.  We just need to train our hearts to always pray as Jesus taught us.

The Lord promises that the Word that comes from His mouth will be like the rain and snow that come down from the heavens [Isaiah 55:10]: Our Father who art in heaven.  God’s fruitful Word gives bread to the one who eats: Give us this day our daily bread.  God’s Word will do His will: Thy will be done. God’s Word won’t return to Him void: Thy Kingdom come. God’s merciful Word changes our hearts: We forgive those who trespass against us. God’s Word achieves its purpose: Deliver us from evil.

“If you forgive the faults of others, your heavenly Father will forgive you yours. If you do not forgive others, neither will your Father forgive you.” [Matthew 6:7-15]

The Scripture is blunt and clear.  “The measure with which you measure will be used to measure you” [Matthew 7:2].  Our eternal forgiveness and salvation depend upon whether or not we’ve forgiven those who have wronged us. Yet we’re only human, and our sinful nature inherited from original sin makes forgiveness impossible from a human standpoint.  Apart from Jesus, we can do nothing, particularly when choosing to forgive [John 15:5].  Therefore, we must constantly beg the Lord for the grace to forgive “seventy times seven times” those who have harmed us [Matthew 18:21-22].

Imitating the holiness of God

 “Be holy, for I, the Lord, your God, am holy.”   This command in the book of Leviticus is followed by a series of commands, all indicating patterns of behavior that ought to be avoided: “You shall not steal.  You shall not act dishonestly . . . Take no revenge . . ..”  [Leviticus 19:1-18] The implication is that holiness, that quality most associated with God, can be associated with human beings to the extent that they imitate by behavior, the “behavior” of God.  Imitating the holiness of God makes a person holy.

The famous scene of the “Last Judgment” recorded by Matthew takes this insight about holiness and moves us one step further.  To feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, visit the stranger, etc., is not only to imitate the holiness of God; here, it is to encounter God, to encounter God in Jesus.  In the words of the gospel: “As often as you did it for one of these least ones, you did it for me.” [Matthew 25:31-46] 

As we embark on the journey called Lent, the church sets before us, simply and directly, the truth that our desire to grow in holiness is, or must be, a desire to grow in charity.  The astonishing promise of these Lenten days is that by simple acts of justice, of truth, and of love, we not only imitate the holiness of God and so grow holy.  Rather, in these acts, we grow holy by encountering the Holy One in the persons who are the focus of our justice, truth and love.  May our hunger to encounter the person of Jesus move us to see and serve Him in the persons of the “least ones.”

Setting captives free

 In many ancient civilizations, the interactions of their gods with human beings were often characterized by caprice and inconsistency as well as distance.  By contrast the God revealed to our ancestors was known for intervening faithfully in human history by specific events with an astonishing attentiveness to human need.  What’s more, the quality of these events can be summed up by the words, “delivering, saving, rescuing, freeing.”

The book of Deuteronomy recites the wonders of God’s intervention to free our Hebrew ancestors from slavery.  The experience was not only a wondrous event but marked a decisive revelation of God:  this is who God is, God is one who saves! [Deuteronomy 26:4-10]

Psalm 91 strongly reinforces the unmistakable fact of God’s presence, specifically in the challenging moments of our lives.  God is indeed our fortress, the only one we can always trust.  He has sent His angels to impact us in all our ways.  Quietly spending time reflecting on God’s presence, His love, His redeeming grace is a crucial part of our Lenten experience. [Psalm 91:1-2, 10-15]

Jesus, whose very name means, “God saves,” breaks into human history in a way never foreseen by our ancestors.  He comes to do battle with all that continues to enslave those whom God has created out of love:  the power of sin, the power of Satan and the power of death itself [Matthew 1:21-25].

The temptation of Jesus [Luke 4:1-13] marks not an isolated experience of Jesus’ early public life, but rather a revelation of God who has come daringly close, to deliver in His very person, the people whom He loves: “For God so loved the world, that he sent his only Son” [John 3, 16].

We see in the specific temptations which Jesus undergoes a battle with temptations to which every human heart is vulnerable: “Turn these stones into bread” – the temptation to live only “on bread alone,” to live as though material things are the only source of life.  “I shall give you all this power and glory” – the temptation to amass reputation and wealth as false gods in an attempt to escape human vulnerability.  “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down . . .” – the very subtle temptation for believers:  to presume no responsibility for our actions, since “God will take care of everything.”

Perhaps we rarely reflect upon all that Jesus endured and all that He suffered in His human life.  Sure, we think about the Crucifixion at times, but even that’s often overshadowed by our knowledge that He rose again.  It’s easy to miss the suffering He experienced throughout His life.  And it’s easy to miss the reason He went through all that He did go through in His humanity.

It’s about love for us all.  It’s about God loving us so much that He was willing to endure every form of hardship and human suffering that enters into our lives.  It’s about God being able to look us square in the face and say, “Yes, I do understand what you’re going through…I really do.”  This is love.  It’s a love so deep that God Himself was willing to experience our weaknesses and pain so that He would be able to meet us there, console us in the midst of whatever we’re going through, and gently lift us out of it to the new life He has in store for us.  Again, this is Love!

The Holy Spirit “led” [Matthew 4:1 and Luke 4:1] and even “drove” [Mark 1:12-13] Jesus out into the desert.  This was a way of telling us that this experience was the plan and will of God.  It wasn’t something imposed upon Jesus by some strange happenstance.  It wasn’t bad luck or an unfortunate and meaningless human suffering.  No, it was suffering for a purpose.  Suffering with an intention.  And the intention was, in part, to experience and embrace all that we experience and must embrace.

Temptation in life is real.  It’s the result of our fallen human nature.  It comes from our weakness but also from the evil one.  Temptation can be a heavy burden and cause heavy emotional and psychological pain.  And when the temptation is given in to, it causes an even deeper spiritual pain.  Jesus never gave in to the temptations in the desert, nor did He give in to temptations at any other time in His life.  But He endured them and suffered them. 

This tells us that He can be our strength and inspiration in the midst of whatever we’re tempted with each and every day.  Some days we may feel the loneliness and isolation of one who is driven into the desert of our sins.  We may feel as though the wild beasts of our disordered passions are getting the best of us.  We may feel as though the evil one is having his way with us.  Well, Jesus felt this way, also.  And He freely allowed Himself to experience this in His humanity.  It was the will of the Father and the working of the Holy Spirit that drove Him to this experience. 

For these reasons, it is Jesus Himself who is able to meet each of us in this desert within.  He’s there, waiting for us, looking for us, calling to us.  He’s there in the midst of anything and everything we may be going through.  And it is He, the One who defeated this desert temptation, who will gently guide us out.  He went to the desert to meet us and to bring us back.  And just as the angels ministered to Jesus in this desert, so also does He send those angels to minister to us.

So whether our “desert” is only a slight agitation in life right now, or if it’s a struggle against complete despair, Jesus wants to meet us and bring us out.  He conquered the desert once and for all [Hebrews 10], and He is able to conquer any desert in our life, also.

Our Lenten journey begins, then, with an invitation to bring our hearts and lives before the Lord, especially those places where we’re still held captive.  We trust that Jesus remains the God who saves, who continues to do battle on our behalf so that Easter might find us as captives who have been set free [Luke 4:18].

Privilege has a price

 

The fifty-eighth chapter of Isaiah starts with a call to what we now refer to as social justice [Isaiah 58:1-14].  It tells us to put an end to oppression and to feed the hungry.  Despite all of the technological and societal advances since Isaiah’s time we haven’t made much progress.  In fact, there’s probably a greater divide between those that have the power and those that don’t and between those who can eat in the finest dining establishments whenever they wish and those who hope to rummage through the garbage of others to find something to ease their hunger pangs.  I wonder if God doesn’t get terribly frustrated seeing the same privileged behavior over the centuries one generation after another.

I wonder (and sometimes worry) because I am one of the “privileged”.  Although I wasn’t born to parents who could afford to send me to private schools, the color of my skin, the country of my birth, and my ancestry have given me privilege.  Why wasn’t I born to parents who just hope to have their children survive into adulthood either because of severe poverty or because of the violence of war in their time and place?  Why was I in a position to be able to raise my children in comfort without the anguish and uncertainties of poverty and war?  I know it’s not because of some kind of favoritism; God loves each of us equally.

As I take this reflection further, I begin to understand more completely how less can be more and that my “privilege” has its own price.  God expects more from those who have been given more [Luke 12:48].  I don’t always listen to those expectations.  I get caught up in the consumerism of our society.  I often forget that anything that I’ve accomplished is because of God’s work in me, not on my own.  I forget how totally dependent I am on Him for everything that I am and everything that I have.  I am nothing without Him.  I pray for God’s eternal patience with me; I want to be open to His expectations.

The right way to fast

On my Facebook page the last couple of days, there’s been a lot of discussion about ‘fasting’ during Lent.  Traditionally, fasting during Lent means giving up something we enjoy or are attached to.  Some of the ‘stuff’ people give up are sodas, candy, social media, and other addictions.  Others take on practices they usually don’t do, like attending daily Mass, reading the Bible, praying more.  Our pastor told us during his homily on Ash Wednesday that at one time, he gave up scratching any itches that bothered him, while thinking of Jesus’ suffering on the cross as he (the pastor) endured the inconvenience.  These are all OK, in my book.

But according to the Prophet Isaiah, there’s a right way and a wrong way to fast.  As Isaiah puts it, the right way to fast is really a way to be genuinely religious and, for the Christian, adequately to imitate Christ [Isaiah 58:1-9].

First, he explains how NOT to fast—that would be to be so focused on ourselves that we can’t really see beyond ourselves.  Isaiah’s words excoriate those who (allegedly) fast and yet “drive all your laborers,” and let their fasting end in “quarreling and fighting, striking with a wicked claw.”

Well, then—we might ask—how DO we fast?  The kind of fasting that God wants (according to Isaiah) is pretty much the opposite of the above.  The right way to fast is to be persons who look outside of ourselves to those in need around us.  Feeding the hungry, visiting the sick, clothing the naked—that’s what fasting is all about.

Hearing these qualities of fasting I’m reminded of what Jesus says in Matthew’s gospel [Matthew 25:31-46] in describing why some are saved and others are not.  “Whenever you did it to one of the least of my brothers or sisters, you did it for me,” Jesus says to those who fed the hungry, visited prisoners, clothed the naked, or performed other actions in service of others.

Christ rewards simple, ordinary actions that we may even tend to take for granted.  Lent gives us the needed opportunity to look at ourselves from the perspective of this kind of fasting.  Can I be open to the poor and the needy around me?  Do I need to be more attentive to others or is the focus in my life squarely on myself?

We need to give these and similar questions a chance to surface and to be answered.  Lent gives us all a chance to see and to reflect on what is of ultimate importance to us.  Let’s pray for the openness to accept the challenges these questions offer us. 

Decisions, decisions

One of the best bits of wisdom my parents taught me as a child was “Decisions have consequences.”  It’s a lesson that’s been around since Adam and Eve decided to listen to the serpent instead of God [Genesis3].

Moses reiterated the truth of the statement so clearly: Staying with the Lord leads to life; turning hearts to “adore and serve other gods” leads to death [Deuteronomy 30:15-20].

Jesus’ words echo that sentiment:  “. . . whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it.” [Luke 9:22-25]

Although we know these words well enough, we easily forget that faith decisions do have consequences.  Although we might not say it directly, we begin to operate on the assumption that we can “be in neutral,” that we can “coast,” or not have to be concerned about whether or not we’re moving forward on our journey with the Lord.  “I’m doing ok,” we might say.  And before we know it, we’re actually choosing death, rather than life.

The starkness of the prophetic words on this second day of Lent is meant to awaken us from our slumber, and to save us from the lies that tell us life can be lived “in neutral.”  

Where am I slumbering today?  Where am I living “in neutral”?

Awaken us, O Lord, to the truth that you desire ever more to fill us with life!  Help us to respond to you, to decide for you, today! 

Lent is about mercy

 Mercy.  That’s what it’s all about.  As we begin Lent, a great place to start is with a better understanding of mercy.

Often when we think about Lent, we think of it with a sort of dread.  “I have to give something up,” we think.  But if that’s our thought, then we’re missing the point.  Do I “have to” give something up?  Well, yes and no.  It’s true that God wills this and has spoken of this practice of self-denial and self-discipline to us through His Church.  That’s true.   But it’s much more of an invitation to grace than the imposition of a burden.  It’s a lesson I’ve learned over the last couple of years, especially.

Giving something up is really all about entering into God’s abundant mercy on a deeper level.  It’s about being freed from all that binds us, and it helps us experience the new life we so deeply seek.  Giving something up could refer to something as simple as fasting from a food or drink.  Or it can be any intentional act that requires a certain self-denial.  But this is good, because it strengthens us in our spirit and our will.  It strengthens us to be more resolved to say “Yes” to God on that complete level. 

So often in life we’re controlled by our emotions and desires.  We have an impulse for this or that or to do this or that, and we often let those impulses or desires control us.  Entering into a practice of self-denial helps strengthen us to control our disordered tendencies rather than being controlled by them.  And this applies to much more than just food and drink.  It applies to many things in life including our life of virtue, especially our charity.

Mercy is all about charity.  It’s about love in the way God wants us to love.  It’s about being free to let love consume us and take us over so that, in the end, all we want to do is love.  This can be a hard practice to establish in our lives but is the source of our joy and fulfillment. 

Mercy, in particular, is an act of love that, in a sense, is not deserved by another.  It’s a free gift that’s given purely from the motivation of love.  And this is exactly the love God gives us.  God’s love is all mercy.  And if we want to receive that mercy, then we also have to give it.  And if we want to give it, we need to properly dispose ourselves to giving mercy.  This is accomplished, in part, by our little acts of self-denial. 

So make this a great Lent, but don’t get stuck thinking that the Lenten sacrifices are burdensome.  They’re one essential piece of the pathway to the life God wants to bestow upon us.