Did I say NO to Jesus?

 

‘Depart from me, you accursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the Devil and his angels.  For I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty, and you gave me no drink, a stranger and you gave me no welcome, naked and you gave me no clothing, ill and in prison, and you did not care for me.’

‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? When did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? When did we see you ill or in prison, and visit you?’ And the king will say to them in reply, ‘Amen, I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.’

I went to Target the other day to pick up a few groceries.  I rarely carry cash after getting robbed at gunpoint in a motel room several years ago, so I usually just have my debit card with me. As I was walking down one of the aisles, I saw a young man—maybe 17 or 18 years old—holding a bag of potato chips in a suspicious manner.  After working in retail early in my life, I feel I can spot a potential shoplifter pretty easily.  He was not holding the bag very gingerly, more from the side of the package, and he had his shirt open to the waist.  His eyes were looking at the shelves in front of him, but they were darting more than perusing.  When he saw me turn the corner into the same aisle, he appeared alarmed.  I could not prove he was going to shoplift anything, but the circumstantial evidence was there.  After his initial look of alarm, his countenance turned to one of maybe shame.  He looked me right in the eye and my first internal thought was that he was going to ask me for some cash to help him pay for the bag of chips.  I immediately knew that when he did, I was going to tell him, “I’m sorry, but I don’t carry cash with me.”   He did ask me for some money, I gave him my response, then I continued walking.  The young man walked to the end of the aisle, glancing around suspiciously, and I got to thinking…

It was just a lousy bag of chips.  I could have had him follow me to the registers and add the product to my purchase.  I could also ask if that was all he really needed.   And what if he ended up successfully stealing that bag of chips after all?  Was I complicit in some way, knowing (or feeling) what I knew, and refusing to help?

More importantly, did I say NO to Jesus?

Is temptation good?

Is temptation good?  Certainly, it’s not a sin to be tempted.  Otherwise, our Lord could never have been tempted Himself.  But He was (Matthew 4:1-11).  And so are we.

In the Lord’s Prayer we say to the Father, “And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil”.  To be clear, temptation is never from God.  But God does permit us to be tempted.  Not so that we fall, but so that we grow in holiness.  Temptation forces us to rise up and make a choice either for God or for the temptation.  Though mercy and forgiveness are always offered when we fail, the blessings that await those who overcome temptation are numerous.  So, in the Lord’s Prayer, we are really asking for the strength to overcome the temptations that will cross our paths.

Jesus’ temptation did not increase His holiness, but it did afford Him the opportunity to manifest His perfection within His human nature.  It is that perfection we seek and His perfection that we must strive to imitate as we face the temptations of life.

Overcoming temptation is like acing an exam, winning a contest, completing a difficult project or accomplishing some challenging feat.  We should take great joy in overcoming temptation in our lives, realizing that this strengthens us to the core of our being.  As we do so, we must also do so in humility, realizing that we haven't accomplished this on our own but only by the grace of God in our lives (“Deliver us from evil”).

The opposite is true also.  When we fail a particular temptation over and over again, we get discouraged and tend to lose the little virtue we have.  But we know that any and every temptation from the evil one can be overcome (Romans 5: 12-19, 1Corinthians 10:13).  Nothing is too great.  Nothing is too difficult.  Humble yourself in confession, seek the help of a confidant, fall on your knees in prayer, trust in the almighty power of God.  Overcoming temptation is not only possible, it’s a glorious and transforming experience of grace in your life.

Welcoming Matthew

 

In 1977, the television mini-series “Jesus of Nazareth”, directed by Franco Zeffirelli was aired over a two-week period.  It is one of my all-time favorites for one scene that brought me to tears.  Jesus was invited to the house of Levi (Matthew) to dine.  Simon (not Peter, yet), uncertain about Jesus mingling with tax collectors and sinners, stands just outside the entrance to Matthew’s home listening to Jesus speak to the crowd inside.  Simon, played by James Farentino, weeps at his own failure to grasp Jesus’ mission.  It was a very moving scene.  

Jesus didn’t reserve His love for the likable or the “deserving.”  Where others saw fishermen, He saw leaders.  Where others saw sinners, He saw sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, and new friends.  Where others saw a tax collector, Jesus saw Matthew, the person.  Jesus did not ignore or condemn Matthew; He called him.  Defying the cultural norms of His time, Jesus did not hesitate to share a meal with Matthew’s friends—people labeled as sinners, outsiders, and the unwanted.  The religious leaders were outraged, and the self-righteous were scandalized. Yet Jesus reminded them—and reminds us—that His purpose is to meet us in our brokenness: “I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.”  Mercy is placed above judgment, just as God proclaimed through Isaiah.  So, who are the Matthews in our lives?   Where does suspicion or self-righteousness still keep us from extending God’s love?

Despite our best intentions as children of God, many of us have an unconscious tendency towards selective compassion.  Often, we divide the world into categories: “us” and “them,” “righteous” and “sinner,” “deserving” and “undeserving.”  We might not name these divisions out loud, but our actions often speak for us —through whom we help, whom we welcome, or whom we avoid.  It’s comforting to believe that the table of God’s love is wide, and that all we need to do is come hungry, recognizing that it’s not just the “other” who needs this radical inclusivity—we need it too.

By dining with tax collectors and sinners, Jesus redefined the boundaries of belonging.  He sought out the excluded, the despised, and the forgotten.  His compassion shattered social and cultural barriers, making space for everyone in His circle.  Jesus acted not out of convenience, but with unwavering commitment to loving all people equally.  Jesus believed in people’s potential to become more than they were, and more than people say they are.  To love as God loves means extending grace to those who have hurt us, choosing kindness when we are tempted to judge, and making room for those who challenge our worldview.  Today, Jesus reminds us of the radical inclusivity of God’s love and demonstrates the power of restorative action, which begins when we stop trying to earn righteousness and instead participate in God’s mission to restore human hearts and broken systems in our world.  This path is uncomfortable, often disruptive, yet profoundly liberating for all.

Are we willing to sit at the table with those we deem unworthy of our time, love, or friendship?  Are we prepared to set aside self-preservation to lift the “yoke” of oppression, paving the way for reconciliation and communal flourishing?  Are we open to stretching our hearts, inviting people into a radical relationship of grace and belonging?  Just as Matthew left his tax booth to follow Jesus, so must we leave behind our excuses, comforts, and fears.  In today’s polarized culture, this challenge is perhaps greater—and more necessary—than ever.

Fasting is not always about food

 

Clothe the naked.  Feed the hungry.  Shelter the homeless.  Care for your family.  Free the unjustly imprisoned.  The Lord says, "This is the fasting that I wish."  (Isaiah 58:5).  Lent is far more than mere observances on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday.  It’s healing the "wound" of our sinfulness by living our faith of love, compassion and respect.  Only then will our light shine, will we be vindicated and will our Lord answer resoundingly, "Here I am!"

In Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus admonishes those who question His disciples’ failure to fast, saying "The attendants of the bridegroom cannot mourn as long as the bridegroom is with them, can they?"  The disciples don’t fast because God is in their midst.  The time for fasting will come when "the bridegroom is taken away."  With these few words, Jesus reveals the true intention of such ritual offerings-searching and longing to be closer to God. (Matthew 9:14-15)

Fasting is undertaken for the sake of right relationships and solidarity with those who suffer unjustly in this world.  Fasting can easily lend itself to hypocrisy.  When hypocrisy becomes a way of life, then no amount of fasting will wash away our guilt.

Pope Leo IV, in his first Lenten message urged us to take up a practical form of self-denial: “I would like to invite you to a very practical and unappreciated form of abstinence: that of refraining from words that offend and hurt our neighbor.  Let us begin by disarming our language, avoiding harsh words and rash judgement, refraining from slander and speaking ill of those who are not present and cannot defend themselves.  Instead, let us strive to measure our words and cultivate kindness and respect in our families, among our friends, at work, on social media, and in political debates . . . In this way, words of hatred will give way to words of hope and peace.”

We can all benefit from this form of fasting!

Am I happy?

 

Was Jesus happy in this life?  Certainly, His earthly existence was marked by hardship.  He was born in a cave, escaped Herod’s attempt on His life as an infant, and likely lost Saint Joseph at a young age.  He endured 40 days of intense temptation by Satan, was rejected by His own people in Nazareth, and, though loved by many, was hated by others.  Ultimately, He was betrayed, unjustly condemned, beaten, and crucified.

Is that happiness?  Not in a worldly sense.  But Jesus’ happiness was in doing the will of His Father.  This obedience, this perfect fulfillment of His divine mission, brought a happiness beyond our human comprehension—a deep, abiding joy rooted in perfect love and surrender to God’s plan.

As we begin Lent, a good question to ask ourselves might be: “Am I happy?”  Many people struggle with this question.  Like our Lord, we endure trials, suffering, and disappointment.  Jesus wasn’t exempt from these; He faced the full range of human experience.  He likely faced rejection as a boy because He was different.  He knew the sorrow of losing loved ones and faced the daily demands of work to help support His family.

In the mystery of the Incarnation—God becoming man—the Son of God intimately shares in every human suffering.  He understands our struggles and sorrows firsthand.  This is why Jesus can look at us with compassion and say, “I understand.”  He is not only divine and transcendent, He is also intimately close, having lived through the very trials we face.

It’s this reality that makes His words so powerful: “Take up your cross daily and follow me.”  The Cross is the roadmap to true happiness.  Our human nature might seek to avoid suffering, but Jesus invites us to embrace it with grace, uniting it with His own suffering.  Through the Cross, we find victory and fulfillment in ways that our natural reasoning could never grasp.