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.

A bit of frustration

 

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

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

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

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

How does God attempt to communicate Himself with me?

How does God get my attention? 

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

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

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

No wiggle room

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The life of grace

 

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

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

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

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

Let the little children come

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perseverance, patience and fidelity

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Relativism kills

 

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

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

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

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

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

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