A hunger for Jesus

A favorite thing that I like to do when reading Scriptures is to watch Jesus and to see how He reacts to people.  In Mark’s gospel, Jesus’ heart went out to the people who had been out in a “deserted place” for “three days now” to hear Him and found themselves facing a journey home without food [Mark 8:1-10].  I can identify with the situation.  I’ve found myself reluctant to follow Jesus out to a deserted place, for fear I might starve to death there.  My self-sufficiency has kept me, at times, from encountering Jesus out to a special place He’s trying to lead me.

Like me, the disciples gave up, in the face of this seemingly impossible situation.  They pointed out the obvious. They couldn't possibly feed this crowd and there was no place to get enough food, even if they wanted to.  I too have felt sent/missioned to a place or situation which seems overwhelming.  I've observed the obvious. This isn't doable. There doesn't seem to be any room for grace here.

Jesus just asked them what they did have to work with.  Seven loaves and a few fish.  Jesus did what He does in the Eucharist each time we celebrate it. "Then, taking the seven loaves he gave thanks, broke them, and gave them to his disciples to distribute, and they distributed them to the crowd."  The people "ate and were satisfied."  And from the seven loaves there were seven baskets of leftovers.

A miracle for sure, but also a message.  When we feel empty and discouraged - in whatever situation we find ourselves - we can bring what we have - no matter how poor it seems - and Jesus will take it and bless it and break it to be distributed.  I can't recount the number of times I've experienced my poverty in doing something and discovered that when I surrendered my control of it all and let go to let Jesus work through me, the result was far beyond what I could have accomplished on my own.  Seven baskets of leftovers and more.

If we hunger for the things of God, if we seriously seek to place ourselves absolutely in His hands in every way, we too will receive what we need, our “daily bread,” both physically and spiritually.  We might prefer other, richer “foods” — nicer family members and co-workers, resolution of our doubts, warm and fuzzy feelings, spiritual gifts and illuminations — but faith and hope mean that we believe firmly and constantly and despite all misleading movements of our hearts that what God gives us is actually what we most need.  It demands a childlike trust and a willingness to endure the difficult and apparently pointless and even to thank God for it.

 I’ve also experienced turning something over to Jesus and didn't get what I hoped or didn't experience any "miracle."  I think that’s when I have to bring my brokenness and weariness and fragility and inability to dare to hope any more to the Eucharist.  That’s where Jesus takes our ordinary offering and transforms it to feed us with His body and blood.  He feeds us with His sacrifice of Himself on the Cross.  He nourishes us with the gift of life everlasting.  It’s His mercy on my sin and the sins of the world.  And it’s His holy communion with us that not only comforts us - that we know we’re not alone - but consecrates us with a union with Him which allows us to be like Him, even with Him, in bringing faith and life to other discouraging desert situations.  When I move from "Where's my miracle?" to giving thanks and praise for receiving the gift of union with Jesus in the Eucharist, grace happens. And there will be seven baskets of leftovers.

To truly seek God is to go wherever He leads us, into richer or poorer, sickness or health, wherever.  And that’s where—in His provident wisdom and His careful love—He feeds His children the best.

I am reminded of a story that I once read.  In 1945 some American G.I.'s were helping the Germans rebuild a small town outside of Munich.  The Catholics there had built a beautiful church dedicated to the Sacred Heart of Jesus.  In the rear of the church, there had been a hand carved statue of Jesus.  When the soldiers pieced the statue back together, they discovered that the only parts missing were the hands.  So they fashioned a sign which they placed around the neck of the statue.  It read - "He has no hands but yours."

Jesus reaches out to us today, asking us to reach out with Him to each other. 

Be opened, and be open

 The gospel that I read today was filled with topics for me to reflect on.

"He put his finger into the man's ears and, spitting, touched his tongue; then he looked up to heaven and groaned, and said to him, "Ephphatha!" (that is, "Be opened!")  And immediately the man's ears were opened, his speech impediment was removed, and he spoke plainly."  [Mark 7:31-37]

When Jesus opened the man's ears and removed his speech impediment, the man could speak plainly.

I imagine that we all can identify with the ways we’re deaf and unable to speak.  At least we have to admit that there’s so much 'noise' dulling our hearing, that it’s difficult for any of us to say we can hear clearly what Our Lord is saying to us, each day.  Do we know what He’s saying to us in the concrete choices we’re making, the relationships that shape us, and the way we use our gifts?  We do a lot of talking, and we find it easy to vent some of our deepest disappointments and judgements, and too often repeat the humorous, cynical and sad messages that surround us.  So, our speech faces impediments to clearly speaking a message of hope, of compassion, of challenge, of commitment that’s rooted in the Gospel.

How well do I listen?  Are there people around me that say I don't listen?  Can I say that I hear the 'cry' of those in need around me?  Am I aware of what the Lord might be saying to me, right in the midst of the choices I’m about to make today?  

And what would people say of my words?  Is what flows from my mouth, from my heart, in harmony with the message of Jesus?  At work?  At home?  Would others say that I speak with compassion?  With wisdom?  With light?  Of harmony, of mercy, of justice, on behalf of those who are different, who are powerless, who are voice-less?

One other thought on this Gospel.  Throughout the Gospel of Mark there’s a motif of secrecy.  Jesus tells His disciples not to reveal to others that He is the Messiah [Mark 8:27-33].  The demons cry out that He is the Son of God, and He tells them to be quiet [Mark 1:21-28].  When He heals a person, He warns them not to tell anyone what he has done.

I’ve read a lot of different commentaries on this question, but I wonder: could it be that Jesus simply wanted to minister to people and had no interest in making a name for Himself?  We see an example of this in the Gospel I read today.  A man was brought to Jesus who needed to be healed and they wanted Jesus to lay His hand on him.  What an opportunity it would be for Jesus to wow the crowd.  He could get everyone’s attention, wave His hands in the air, say some loud, dynamic prayer, and then lay His hands on the man, like some flim-flam televangelists have done over the years.  That would have made quite an impression.  Instead, “he took him off by himself away from the crowd.”  I can’t imagine that the man cared where Jesus healed him – in the midst of the crowd or off by himself.  But Jesus cared.  This reminds me of the story of Naaman who went to Elisha to be healed of leprosy.  Elisha didn’t even go out of the house but sent a message to Naaman to go and wash in the Jordan River seven times. Naaman was upset about this for several reasons but one of them was that this was not the dramatic healing he thought he would receive.  Naaman left angry saying, “I thought that he would surely come out to me and stand there to call on the name of the Lord his God, and would move his hand over the place, and thus cure the leprous spot”.  An important man like Naaman needed an impressive healing that didn’t include immersing himself seven times in a dirty river [2 Kings 5:1-14].

Some have suggested that Jesus was using reverse psychology.  The text says, “He ordered them not to tell anyone. But the more he ordered them not to, the more they proclaimed it.”  According to this view, He only told them not to tell anyone so that they would tell everyone.  He’s saying, “This is our secret, don’t tell anyone,” knowing full well that the secret would eat away at the people, and they just had to let the proverbial cat out of the bag, which is really what He wanted all along.

Back to the first chapter of Mark, I believe we get a hint as to why Jesus does this.  Jesus was ministering in Capernaum.  It says that the whole town was gathered at the door.  He cured the sick and cast out demons.  Early in the morning He went outside of town to pray.  Simon and the others went looking for Him and, on finding Him, said, “Everyone is looking for you” [Mark. 1:37].  In other words, they might have been saying, “You have this city in the palm of your hands.  You can make a name for yourself.” Jesus’ response was, more or less, “Let’s get out of here.  My purpose, my desire, is to reach out to the people, not to hit it big.” “For this purpose have I come” [Mark 1:38).

The time has come for Jesus to be proclaimed to the nations.  However, that’s our ministry by virtue of our baptisms.  It simply wasn’t what Jesus was about.

Living out our personal identity

 

One of the most difficult tasks of life is consistently living out our personal identity as God’s beloved in this world.  How can “who I am” be consistent with what I do and how I interact, and not get lost in society’s messages?

In my reflection on sacred Scripture today, I found two contrasting examples: Solomon got so comfortable with his kingship, wealth, and wives that he forgot, and acted contrary to, his primary identity as a faithful servant of God[1 Kings 11:4-13 ].  However, the Syrophoenician woman who asked Jesus to heal her daughter knew who she was and confidently lived out that identity as a mother and a faith-filled believer.  She didn’t let even Jesus turn her aside from what she knew was possible for God in her life[Mark 7:24-30].  How difficult that must have been!  What gave her the strength to claim her identity? 

Somewhere deep inside I know that I am God’s beloved child, that at my core I am radiant with the Spirit of love and life.  Can I stay in touch with that part of me and know, truly know, who I am?  Can I let God define my identity rather than other people whose images are often so flawed?  Can I stay in touch with that core reality and then express it in my actions and relationships?  I know these are challenging questions, but they’re so necessary to ask and keep before us.

I pray that I can consistently act from the calm and certain assurance that God knows who I REALLY am and loves me completely.  So, no matter what happens in this world, no matter the challenges and obstacles, no matter who offers me their love and who doesn’t, no matter whether I have a place at the head table or I am eating the scraps beneath it, I have my identity in God, who will never leave me alone.  May I remain centered in that truth and always seek to act in concert with it.   

Gifts discovered and shared

 

Under the surface, the Scriptures I read today had a lot to say about the gifts or blessings that can potentially come from within.  The Old Testament passage focused largely on material gifts and wealth, and the gospel dealt with negative attitudes and actions that can come from within.  But underneath it all, there are gifts to be discovered and shared.

While the former spent more time talking about the gifts that the queen of Sheba brought to Solomon and his wealth as indicated by the food he served and the palace in which he lived, there’s an underlying source for the recognition and material “blessings” – wisdom.  I don’t want to give the indication that I think we believe in the 21st century that those with great riches are automatically good people who have been shown favor by God, any more than we still believe that sickness or disease are God’s way of punishing those who sin.

What I am suggesting, though, is despite the fact that her outward gestures included lavish gift-giving, the queen of Sheba recognized something deeper within Solomon.  This wasn’t merely political or economic commerce, but rather gifts flowing from recognition and admiration for the inner gift of wisdom which Solomon possessed and shared [1 Kings 10:1-10].

The gospel, on the other hand, is a cautionary tale against allowing things that defile to come from within – the opposite of gifts and blessings.  The gospel lists evil thoughts, theft, murder, greed, and deceit, among others.  It doesn’t say that these have to come out of us, however; it says that they can come out of us [Mark 7:14-23].  I think this is the key because it indicates that latent within us are also the blessings of compassion, respect, generosity, and honesty, among many others.

Whether blessings and gifts (or conversely, harm and defilement) come from within us is a choice and a challenge that we must address ourselves, in our own lives.  It’s about our own self-awareness.  What’s most important is for people to pay attention to the ways that they’re living in the world and ask if they’re living in a healthy or unhealthy way.

I find both challenge and excitement in knowing that what I share from inside with the world outside is my own responsibility.  I think if we seek to share gifts and blessings with the world, even if we aren’t showered with great wealth and prestige, we will certainly be recognized as children of God, sharing out of our gratitude the inner gifts God has given us.

God's promises of love

 

It often isn’t easy to speak to friends or family firmly and with truth about my faith, but it’s necessary.  Saint Paul tells us, “From now on the crown of righteousness awaits me, which the Lord, the just judge, will award to me on that day, and not only to me, but to all who have longed for his appearance” [2 Timothy 4:8]. I need to remember this the next time I'm a little uncomfortable talking to someone about my faith- in the end, it’s all worth it.

There’s a line in Psalm 84 about the fidelity to God and God’s promise of love: “Blessed are those who dwell in your house!  They never cease to praise you.” [Psalms 84:5] Elsewhere in the Bible, Solomon prayed for that gift of fidelity and that God would recognize his faithfulness and that of his people.  He was well aware of their infidelities [1 Kings 8:22-30].

In Mark’s Gospel, the Pharisees didn’t seem to be aware of their infidelities.  In fact, they only praised themselves and their adherence to law and tradition.  They criticized Jesus’ disciples for having “unclean practices.” [Mark 7:1-13]

All of this leads me to ponder, “what makes a person unclean today?”  If our faith rests in God’s promises: “I am with you always” [Matthew 28:20] “In cloud by day and fire by night” [Exodus 13:21] “I love you with an everlasting love.  I will always love you” [Jeremiah 31:3], then not believing in God’s love for us makes us unclean.

If we’re truthful with ourselves, there are so many times we don’t believe: moments of crisis, moments of joy, moments of control (‘I can or did or will do this myself’).  Sometimes we don’t trust God enough and sometimes we trust ourselves too much.

Jesus tells us to “be compassionate as your heavenly Father is compassionate.” [Luke 6:36-38] And, “Love your neighbor as yourself” [Mark 12:31] is one of Jesus’ laws of love.  When do we take care of others and not ourselves?  Now, there’s a real juxtaposition of “what is selfishness?”  When do we not love ourselves and why? And when do we turn away from our neighbor because we just don’t like him or her (or their opinions and beliefs)?

All of this pondering of our unclean times isn’t meant to dwell on our weaknesses.  God knows me and you through and through and loves us in our weakness as well as our strengths.  Just be aware of hypocrisies, big and small and turn around!  Be mindful of the prophet Jeremiah’s words: “Happy the men (and women) who trust in YOU.” [Jeremiah 17:7-8]

Reading between the lines

 

Sometimes when I’m reading the Bible, especially shorter selected verses, several words or themes may catch my attention that provoke the simplest things to reflect upon.  Today, I read 4 verses in the Gospel of Mark that was a veritable treasure trove of thoughts [Mark 6:53-56].

The first is that these verses begin by recounting the crossing of the Lake of Galilee by Jesus and His disciples.  At first glance, there’s nothing particularly noteworthy about that.  Jesus and His disciples often crossed the lake during their travels.  What struck me on reading this gospel for today's reflection is just that fact; how often Jesus and His disciples traveled around and across the Lake of Galilee.  I’m told by friends that have been to the Holy Land that the lake isn’t very big compared to how it's portrayed in the gospels, but it played an important part in the daily life of the people of Galilee, and they used it all the time.  Crossing the lake by boat between different towns was a good way to travel because it saved time as compared to going on foot around the lake shore.  It also had the advantage for boat passengers of being a more comfortable way to travel than walking was.  And Jesus was usually able to find a boat since a number of the apostles were fishermen.  The lake was obviously well stocked with fish, and a number of people like the apostles made their living as commercial fishermen.  In addition to this the Lake of Galilee provided income for many others who built the fishing boats, made the nets, and provided other fishing equipment.  Jesus and His disciples were very familiar with the lake and used it often in their travels.  Some of the most descriptive passages in the gospels recount events that took place on the lake of Galilee.

Another line that struck me in this gospel reading was, “They scurried about the surrounding country and began to bring in the sick on mats to wherever they heard he was.”  I think the word ‘scurried’ is probably most appropriate for the scene.  When I hear the word ‘scurried’ the first thought that comes into my mind is ‘frenzy’.  The fame of Jesus in Galilee, even early in His public life, was such that when people heard He was coming they hurried to gather together their sick in hopes for a cure.  On this day Jesus was recognized as soon as He came ashore at Gennesaret.  And the townspeople rushed in a great frenzy to gather together their sick.  They placed them on mats in the marketplace where they hoped to touch the cloak of Jesus as He passed by.  When Jesus arrived, He wasn’t in a great hurry.  He probably moved slowly through the town so as to give as many as possible the opportunity to reach up and touch Him.  There must have been great crowds in each town that Jesus passed through.   And so, there were probably a great many healings that day, which is indicated in the last sentence of the reading.  St. Mark says: "and as many as touched it were healed."

In some of the miracles mentioned in the gospels the evangelists give many details about the persons healed and about the words and actions of Jesus.  In the healings in this short passage of the gospel no details at all are given.  We don't know the names of those who were healed.  We don't know their illnesses.  We don't know what Jesus said or did as He passed through their towns.  But we do know the most important thing about this day.  We know that many sick people were healed.  We know that on this day Jesus was doing the work that He was sent to do.  Through these miraculous healings He was teaching all the people in those towns to believe in Him.  He was giving them the gift of faith.  And I think that the important thing for us today is the gift of faith.  The details of these healings are not as important as what they represent:  The faith in Jesus that we share with all of those He heals.     

Loved, healed, and sent

 

The theme of my reflection today is that we’re loved, healed and sent by God.  It’s something that takes an entire lifetime to grasp.

First, we have to believe: to believe that we’re all sinners, but eminently loved sinners; to trust that Jesus loves us endlessly, despite our unworthiness.  And, to believe that Jesus thought we were worthy enough to die for.  Finally, we’re asked to understand that we, loved sinners, are sent to do God’s work.

In the Old Testament, Isaiah proclaims, “I am a man of unclean lips.”  Yet he is healed.  When God calls out, “Whom shall I send?”  Isaiah’s healed heart can trustingly respond, “Here I am. Send me!” [Isaiah 6:1-8]

In his First Letter to the Corinthians, Saint Paul humbly admits, “I am the least of the apostles, not fit to be called an apostle.” Yet he recounts that “by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace to me has not been ineffective.”  Paul knows he has been loved, forgiven and now sent on this mission to preach the good news [1 Corinthians 15:1-11].

The theme continues with Simon Peter, the most fully human apostle we see in the gospels, as he encounters Jesus.  Of course, Peter has seen and heard Jesus before and believed enough in His power to ask Him to heal his mother-in-law [Luke 4:38-40].

Peter had spent a long and discouraging night fishing.  As he and his companions returned to shore in the early morning, Jesus, pushed by the crowds, asks Peter to let Him teach from his boat.  So Peter and his friends got back in their boats, dragging their washed nets with them.  He was grateful to Jesus and could tell He was a good man.  Peter sat on the water listening, perhaps idly tying knots in torn spots on the nets.  But he was really tired after a fruitless night of fishing.  Suddenly Jesus turned to him and suggested he row out to deeper water and lower his nets for fish.

Really?

There was no doubt that Jesus was a holy man who knew about God – but Peter knew fish.  It wasn’t going to be worthwhile.  But he shrugged and rowed out to where Jesus had pointed and dropped his nets.

Instantly, nets that had been empty for hours last night were full, teeming, overflowing with fish.  He and Andrew pulled up their nets and waved for John and James to come closer.  They laughed and shouted and had never seen such a fill of fish, as their boats sunk lower in the water from the weight of the catch.

Suddenly Peter dropped his nets and fell to his knees, profoundly aware of his doubts and his unworthiness saying, “Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.”  With those words, Jesus knows that Peter is ready to be sent, as He responds, “from now on, you will be catching men.”

Peter’s life changes in an instant as he realizes that Jesus is much more than a holy man.  And Peter’s life changes because Jesus lets him know that it’s ok that he is a sinful man – and that he is loved, healed and needed by God for his work.

And they left everything and they followed him.

So all four humbled, amazed, sinful and loved fishermen left everything.  They simply followed [Luke 5:1-11].  What did they have to leave there on their boats as they climbed ashore to follow him?  Their fears of the future and their preconceptions.  Their doubts and their confusion. Their worries about what people would think.

They wouldn’t know what was ahead or what they were being called to, but they felt the call in their hearts and they “left everything” to follow Jesus.  They were empty of the unworthiness that held them back and empty of their feelings of being unlovable.  In that profound, loved emptiness, they followed and waited to see how it would be filled.

Loving Jesus, work that same transformation for this weak, doubtful sinful heart.  I so want to trust that You have the power to let me do far more than I can imagine now.  Instead of running in fear, I long to let You call me. Take me into deeper water.  Show me Your love and mercy for me there, and I will be Your follower.  “Here I am. Send me!”

Take the time and listen

 

Many times, I start to pray my rosary in the morning and two minutes later I’m lost in thoughts about my plans for the rest of the day, or checking out my Facebook, or simply daydreaming.  This morning was one of those times, but I caught myself sooner.  I felt bad that I wasn’t giving Jesus and Mary my complete attention in the ‘busyness’ of my mind.  I decided to wait until my afternoon walk to pray.  I made my way to a quiet place on the nearby university campus to start my rosary again.  What a difference a change in scenery made!  I was able to not only meditate on the mysteries of the rosary more deeply, but I was also inspired to think about the scriptures I knew I would be reflecting on tonight. 

The word of the day is listening.  Solomon went to Gibeon [1 Kings 3:4-13]; the Apostles, with Jesus, went away to “a deserted place to rest and to pray” [Mark 6:30-34].  I took a quiet walk to a quiet place.  The goal of the journeying was reflection.  

Solomon wished to know how he could rule with wisdom, although he was young.  What a great thing to ask for, wisdom (aka understanding and knowing right from wrong).  I truly hope that I would ask for wisdom if I was given that opportunity, but he asked for it when he was “a mere youth”!  For the sake of argument, let’s just say he was in his early 20’s.  I’m not sure I would have asked for wisdom at that age.  (It’s what I needed the most in retrospect, but it wouldn’t have been the first thing to come to my mind.  At that age I thought I knew all I needed to know!)  Then, greater than Solomon’s request was God’s response!  Because Solomon asked for practical wisdom by which to govern God’s chosen people, and not for something selfish like long life, or riches, or victory in battle, He gave Solomon what he asked for in abundance, as well as riches and glory too!  That’s a promise!  It’s the same promise that He makes to all of us, “ask and you shall receive” [Mark 11:24].

The Apostles were seeking an opportunity to reflect upon what had happened recently in their ministry, when they were sent out two by two to preach repentance [Mark 6:7-13].  Things don’t always work out.  Jesus and the Apostles ran into complexity.  Rather than finding an opportunity to rest, they were confronted with a needy crowd, and they rightly responded.  Jesus recognized the disruption as belonging in His ministry, previous plans notwithstanding.  It makes me think of the time when Jesus was already leaving a place for the home of an official, who had asked Jesus to lay His hand on his just deceased daughter.  That was Jesus’ plan.  But suddenly a poor woman, who had suffered from a blood discharge for twelve years, “disrupted” His plan by stealthily touching Jesus’ cloak in the hope of an unnoticed healing.  What did Jesus do?  He acknowledged her presence, engaged her in conversation and healed her.  Only then did He move on with His previous plan [Matthew 9:18-26].  The requirements of the Christian life often interrupt our need for rest and renewal.  Time and distance are often needed if we’re going to be effective servants.  God wants to have an opportunity to be present to us – “come away for a while” is a standing invitation.

Yet, I think, when the needs quiet and the when the crowd grows silent, the invitation to go away and take some time remains.  Without this we’ll eventually lose our way.  We may even forget why we’re doing what we’re doing.  Without time for prayer and renewal we won’t be able to live into the depths of the psalm prayer, “Lord, teach me your statutes.” [Psalms 119:12]

No one is too busy.  Take the time.

His mercy endures forever

 

I’m thinking today about my struggles with failure and sin by reflecting on a tale of two kings in Scripture.  Their examples have much to offer us as we start our second month of the new year.

The book of Sirach exalts David for his skill and acumen as a warrior king, features complemented by those of a gentler nature, including his support for music, art, and the liturgical customs of worship in the temple [Sirach 47:2-11].  His deep and abiding faith and love for God supported both of these dimensions of his life.  We also know David as a man sometimes drawn toward sin, who like us needed his sins to be forgiven.  Even as David’s virtuous life is praised, it is God who is praised for His mercy, forgiveness, and love in dealing with him and the rest of God’s people.   

Mark’s gospel presents another kingly example for us to consider [Mark 6:14-29].  Sadly, Herod is not an example of heroic virtue.  He showed himself to be foolish, vain, and easily manipulated.  He lost his way.  Instead of seeking the Lord and trying to find the path of righteousness, he lived in fear and remorse, perhaps numbed by the trappings of his earthly power.  When he heard about Jesus, all he could think about was his own past sin and imagine the coming retribution.

In some ways, I feel sorry for Herod. Like Shakespeare’s Lady Macbeth, he was haunted by the guilt of murder.  He knew that John the Baptist was an innocent man and a prophet of God, but he chose to kill him anyway.  Herod knew enough about God to fear His justice.  But he didn’t know God well enough to understand that His mercy endures forever [Psalm 118] and His forgiveness is offered to a repentant heart.  Herod couldn’t grasp that grave sin – even murder – could be forgiven, and so he was forced to live in fear of impending doom and without the hope of salvation.  

It's not complicated

 Jesus summoned the Twelve and began to send them out two by two and gave them authority over unclean spirits.  [Mark 6:7-13]

Jesus “summoned” the Twelve. 

He brought them to Himself.  We can read this as simply meaning that He, in a sense, called a meeting with them.  But we should look deeper.  We should see in this summoning the fact that Jesus wasn’t only calling a meeting, but rather, He was drawing them to His very person.  In this act of summoning, the Apostles were personally encountering Jesus, receiving His grace and power, and being changed themselves.

He sent them out two by two. 

Jesus knows our human weakness.  He knows that by ourselves we will most likely fail, but with the Christian support of another we’re greatly strengthened.  Because Jesus’ mission is not only something we do ourselves, it’s something that is communal as well.  We are each one piece in His mission. However, to fulfill that mission, we need the love and support of others.  We need to go two by two into the battle.

He gave them authority over unclean spirits. 

Jesus very much does want to give us authority over the evil one and his minions since they’re far more powerful than us.  So, if we’re to have a chance in the battle, we need Jesus’ authority.  This is not only some supernatural power to cast out demons; rather, it’s much more extensive.  So what is this authority and how do we exercise it?

It’s the power of true Christian charity.  Charity, or love, overwhelms the evil one and renders him powerless in our lives.  Selflessness, sacrifice, humility, faith, truth—all of the virtues, really—are among the most powerful weapons in our battle.  The evil one doesn’t know what to do with these.  We don’t necessarily have to engage in some sort of dramatic spiritual warfare to do battle.  By simply loving God and living that love in our daily life will, in a sense, be casting out demons left and right!  We’ll have the victory in our Christian living because God will take care of all the rest.  It’s His mission and He’s the one summoning and sending us.  So, we need not be afraid to follow His lead!

What's my purpose?

 In my reflection of the occasion of Jesus being presented in the temple by Mary and Joseph, my focus is on Simeon, a “righteous and devout” man, who had been waiting for this moment throughout his life.  And when it came to pass, he said, “Now, Master, you may let your servant go in peace, according to your word, for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you prepared in the sight of all the peoples: a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and glory for your people Israel.”  [Luke 2:29-32]

This is a profound statement that came from a humble and faith-filled heart.  Simeon was saying something like this: “Lord of Heaven and earth, my life is now complete.  I’ve seen Him.  I’ve held Him.  He’s the one.  He’s the Messiah.  There’s nothing more I need in life.  My life is fulfilled.  I’m now ready to die.  My life has reached its purpose and culmination.”

Simeon, like any other ordinary human being, would have had many experiences in life.  He would have had many ambitions and goals.  Many things he worked hard for.  So for him to say that he was now ready to “go in peace” simply means that the purpose of his life was fulfilled and that all he’s worked for and striven for has come to culmination in this moment.

That’s saying a lot!  But it’s really a great witness for us in our daily lives and gives us an example of what we should strive for.  Life must be about encountering Christ and fulfilling our purpose in accord with God’s plan.  For Simeon, that purpose, revealed to him through the gift of his faith, was to receive the Christ Child in the temple at His presentation and to then consecrate this Child to the Father in accordance with the law. 

A question I often ask myself is, “What is my mission and purpose in life?”  I don’t believe it will be the same as Simeon, but it will have similarities.  God has a perfect plan for me that He will reveal to me in faith.  This calling and purpose will ultimately be about my receiving Christ in the temple of my heart and then praising and worshiping Him for all to see.  It will take on a unique form in accord with the will of God for my life.  But it will be as significant and important as Simeon’s calling and will be integral to the entire divine plan of salvation for the world. 

I don’t want to miss my call, my mission.  I’ll have to continue to listen, anticipate, and act in faith as that plan unfolds so that I, too, may one day rejoice and “go in peace” confident that this calling has been fulfilled.

Surrendering personal power

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

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

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

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

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

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

Suscipe

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

Everything is yours; do with it what you will.

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

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

Beset

 

Beset.  

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

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

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

Take a deep breath.

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

Called to love as Jesus loves

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Don't you remember?

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All it takes is letting go

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Please, Sir, may I have another?

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

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

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

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

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

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