Monday, 28 December: “Try”

Reading – Ephesians 5:8b-14

Feast of the Holy Innocents

Images of God and God’s love as light speak powerfully to me, but what really caught my attention this evening was the phrase “Try to learn what is pleasing to the Lord.”

As much as I dislike the culture of constant affirmation and award, I feel that in some way it holds true in God’s relationship with us. It’s not as though heaven is open to just anyone who shows up and walks through the door, a place where everyone is a winner and participation trophies are as common as bellybuttons (sorry, Kyle XY).

Or wait: is it?

Remember Jesus’ parable of the workers in the vineyard hired at different times of the day (Matthew 20:1-16)? All received the same wage, even though some worked many hours more than others. The owner points out that the first workers agreed to the set wage when they started and that he as the owner has the right to be generous toward the other workers.

Along with the parable of the prodigal son and the shepherd with the lost sheep, Jesus showed and shows us that it does not matter so much when we turn to God as that we turn to God. God is, I think, elated each and every time someone does this, especially early in their lives. The eternal life and joy of heaven is held out for all of us, though, through our whole lives, and God will gladly take us by the hand and fulfill that promise whenever we decide to trust in it. And how much better can communion with God get, whether you sought and accepted it from age nine or age ninety?

At the same time, I do not think that we ever fully seek or trust in God’s promise in this life. We’re human: we’re scared, and we make mistakes, sometimes rarely, sometimes often. But, in desiring God, we can strive for perfection. We can try.

Trying means making a decision, not remaining caught in indecision, a veritable hell in itself. Trying involves participation, being present to God, others, and oneself and seeking to understand them while accepting and affirming them as mysteries (or Mystery, in the case of God). Trying requires dedication and perseverance, reaching out and in even when nothing seems to exist in either direction. Trying means acknowledging your limitations and faults but also your achievements and gifts, knowing that you are loved and pushing yourself to act in light of that love, with love.

Trying, in the end, requires effort, faith, hope and – of course – love. What we’ll receive for trying, for accepting God’s love and promise, is much greater than a Certificate of Participation. It is the affirmation of the self by the self, the creature by the Creator. And we won’t just exist and receive this affirmation. We will joyfully accept and reciprocate God’s affirmation.

May we try, God, and try each day. ~

Monday, 09 November: “No longer strangers”

Reading – Ephesians 2:19-22

Feast of the Dedication of the Lateran Basilica in Rome

*I will use feminine pronouns for God in this reflection and in some future writings. I’ll use masculine pronouns in other reflections. God is beyond gender, but using “he” and “she” helps us understand and relate to God as a person (the Person) more than using “it.” Now for the actual reflection; sorry for all the delays!*

When you believe in God, you know that you, nor anyone else, nor even God Herself are ever truly alone. Whether we trust in God’s existence or the presence of any higher power, God is there with us, ready to help and guide us if we but ask. This can feel somewhat constraining, though – claustrophobic, even. All of us at one point or another – and extreme introverts like me, especially – enjoy being alone, at least for a little while, and perhaps even crave it.

Some of us want to be sojourners, to revel in being apart from the group, strangers to all others that need not rely on anyone nor have anyone rely on us. We desire to be the trailblazers, the great guides toward the Truth as we venture far beyond others on our lonely but noble path into Mystery.

As I’ve realized often, though, that’s a rather selfish and, honestly, crappy dream. The Mystery isn’t just for us; it’s for everyone. In fact, the Mystery already surrounds and abides within us. God accompanies us as we explore God’s self, drawing us deeper into that unfathomable ocean of love and truth.

God also guides us to each other; made in the image of the Trinitarian God, we are meant to be with and love others, even if we need to withdraw by ourselves after doing so and in order to do so again. Even the Desert Fathers and hermits through the ages sought a closer communion with the Other and a better understanding of and care toward others. No lone person is an island or, to use the feast and images of this day, a building unto themselves. Yes, we are temples of the Holy Spirit, but without connections to other temples and the Master Architect, we fall into disrepair and ruin.

We each are compelled by the Spirit to open the riches of our temples – our talents, virtues, possessions, and histories – to each other so that the Architect may build up and complete Her intricate, magnificent, transcendent blueprint for the universe. Our attempts at contributing to this project, finding the best means of joining our temples together, and discovering parts of the blueprint make us sojourners and strangers, in a sense. We each have unique compositions and cuts, our own quests in letting the Architect work and love through us, but we all have a common foundation (God), a common creator (God), and a common goal (you guessed it: God).

Thus we journey, alone yet together, marveling at the stars in whirling thoughts inside our minds, silent praises to God in our souls, and hushed but ecstatic whispers with each other in our conversations. We let God build us up, build each other up, and build Her holy temple with Her son himself as the capstone. May we let you guide us to our true selves, to each other, and to you, O God. Thank you. ~

Thursday, 24 December: Not Separate

Breaking from my usual tradition (if you can call a few blog posts a tradition) of reflecting on Scripture passages, I am writing a few thoughts as Advent ends and Christmas, one of the most joyous and sacred days and seasons of the Christian Church, begins.

We as humans have the helpful yet infuriating habit of breaking large things into smaller things, compartmentalizing aspects, traits, and events into easily understandable and organizable categories. We’ve done this with basically everything, from history (because the Middle Ages ended exactly as the Reformation started all over the world) to cooking to humans to even God.

This activity is, well, human: It helps us, allows us, to cope with the overwhelming interconnectedness and complexity of the world. And if we must imagine that the world can be parsed into neat boxes, we quite obviously must also separate and categorize God. Just as it’s impossible to compartmentalize the world, it’s really impossible to compartmentalize God, who is the infinite Mystery (and yet the intimate Foundation of Existence, which is a real head-scratcher in and of itself).

Of course, describing God with certain words and within certain categories helps us to learn more about God and express that knowledge to others; in fact, it’s really the only way we as humans can share our knowledge of God with each other in a coherent manner. However, we also have the duty to acknowledge God as ultimate mystery and to (attempt to) look at creation as a whole instead of independent entities. An excellent and timely example comes in the Nativity.

The Nativity is the birth of Jesus. (Whoa! What a surprise, right?) With the joy (and the stress) of God coming to earth as man, we often focus on the birth and the birth alone – manger, stable, shepherds, and all. As hard as it is to think about the many needful tasks and preparations for Christmas celebrations and the mass, we must put the birth of Jesus in a wider context. That’s the very reason we have Advent, the main emphasis of which is preparation, not so much for the baby Jesus (that kind of happened already) but for the daily entrance of Jesus into our hearts and the second, final coming of Christ at the end of time.

Let’s consider some other elements, though. The Nativity is part of the larger Christ-event: the birth, life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. The baby born to Mary was the rabbi and rabble-rouser who fearlessly proclaimed and lived the love of God, the insurgent and scandal who was crucified by the Romans, and the Savior and Word who rose from the dead and promised a radical transformation for all creation at the end of time. These aspects of Jesus and many more are part and parcel of his being and cannot be separated from his birth. The joy and tenderness of Christmas are intricately tied with the sorrow and suffering of the Passion and the glory and renewal of the Resurrection.

The Incarnation of God, starting with Jesus’ conception, shows that God was willing to become part of what He made (even more than He was already) – not just humanity, but the whole of the material universe and biological life.* God loved us and all creation so immensely as to enter into it, not only its joy and life but also its suffering and death. If Jesus was born, he must also die, not necessarily on the cross but certainly as a human being. In being born, God was already dying, yet in doing so God was already bringing new life to the world and the promise of a final, glorious communion with God’s self. Death was conquered the moment God decided to live as a human and submit to it. The Incarnation is part of the continuous act of God’s creation, still going on now until the final transformation and fulfillment of all things.

Now that’s quite a Christmas miracle, don’t you think?

The birth of Jesus is and always will be of immense importance, but only when we place it in the context of his life and God’s love. Considering things in the universal context can be overwhelming and exhausting; we (at least I) cannot do it all the time. But try to set aside some time this Christmas to consider the wonderful, mysterious, gentle, self-giving love of God.

I’m off for family celebrations and vigil mass now. Merry Christmas, everyone! ~

 

*Denis Edwards, a theologian from Flinders University in Australia, has formulated a fascinating theology considering the role of the material universe, biological life, and animals along with humans in the love of God based in part off the work of Karl Rahner. You can read his thoughts in How God Acts (2010).

 

Wednesday, 09 December: “The leader and perfecter of Faith”

Reading – Hebrews 12:1-3

Jesus is “the leader and perfecter of faith.” How so? Jesus showed us what faith truly is, a committed relationship with God, an acceptance of God as ultimate mystery and destination yet intimate being and love, a life of loving action in service and as a conduit of God’s transformative love into the world, a joy in all of God’s creation, a life of full humanity (not to mention full divinity, but that’s for another reflection). Jesus comes to us, takes us by the hand, and shows us both the way and the destination. He unswervingly followed God’s love and suffered immensely for doing so, but, through the very love he served, he overcame and transformed it from within into something glorious.

Why did Jesus despise the “shame” of the cross, then? I think that Jesus showed us through his life, death, and resurrection that God despises the ridicule and ignominy we attach to vulnerability, to dependence, to agape.

“You’ll just be a doormat,” the world tells us when we try to imitate the kenotic love of Jesus, of God. “People will just walk all over you.” Jesus provides the response to these assertions.

“Then let me be a doormat!

“Let people use and abuse me, look down on me, put all their filth and dirt on me, despise me, and throw me away without an afterthought. If I am a doormat, I hope to help others rid themselves of any grime clinging to their soles. I hope to prepare them to enter into the house of God, to welcome them into the divine presence. If doing so entails my suffering and dying, so be it. For, in the end, I know that God will give us all new life and guide us into a joyful, everlasting communion with God’s very self, if we only allow God to do so.”

By following Jesus and being doormats, we also have the opportunity to kiss Christ’s feet and embrace his sandals, through our souls and through the soles of the beloved human persons treading upon us. We will put ourselves under others and within God, awaiting the day that we all despise the shame of the cross and finally as on people praise its paradoxical power and beauty.

On that day, I think, God will have worked in us to bring about that development, and God will then transform us and the entire universe into something radically beyond our imagination, our reality.

May I start at this moment and continue in every instance to follow you in self-emptying love, Lord. May I be a doormat.*

Graces: You know that elderly woman I mentioned in my last post? She sent me a Christmas card in the mail with a gift inside. The simple yet profound charity she possesses is flabbergasting and heartwarming. She and so many other people show Jesus to everyone with whom they come into contact.

 

*Just for clarification: Being a doormat does not mean ignoring or allowing the oppression or dehumanization of other people. One can certainly accept their own unjust suffering, but one should always oppose and work to end the suffering of others in the hope of working with God to create a world where no one at all suffers. Nor should one go out of one’s way to find suffering. The whole basis of redemptive suffering is that one doesn’t seek anguish or trials but rather embraces them with God’s grace when they come along in order to bring healing and transformation to the world. Following Jesus means standing up for the dignity of all people and confronting oppressors with the love of God to effect redemption, not condemnation.

Saturday, 05 December: “Serve the Lord”

Reading-Romans 12:6-11

What a simple command Paul gives us in tonight’s reading, right? You can’t summarize the life of a Christian much better than “serve the Lord.” Yet, as Paul shows before this phrase and throughout his letters, serving the Lord involves a lot of different tasks, not all of which we can or should do.

Paul recognizes and appreciates the unique nature of each individual in God’s creation, knowing that each of us can follow God, glorify His name, and build up His kingdom on earth with the gifts He gave us. Some of us are prophets, decrying the injustices of our society (boy, are there a lot of them lately) but also revealing the opportunities for progress in them. Some are ministers, reaching out to others to heal and comfort them, not only through the priesthood or religious life but in careers (doctors, therapists, etc.) and daily life (moms, dads, friends, etc.). Some are teachers, helping others to understand the world around them, appreciate its beauty, and work to end its suffering. Some are exhorters, keeping us energized in and committed to our faith. Some are contributors, using their material wealth not to isolate themselves in luxury but to raise up others. Some are administrators and leaders, unifying us all in our common purpose and, if true leaders, serving us as imitators of Christ. A plethora of other talents exists, and each of them contributes importantly to the whole.

One thing that struck me among Paul’s various exhortations: “Anticipate one another in showing honor.” I don’t have direct inside access to Paul’s mind, of course, but I’ll take a stab at what he was trying to convey. We should see those around us as honored guests and approach them as such, recognizing them for their God-given gifts and, most fundamentally and importantly, their God-given dignity and existence as human persons. This doesn’t mean fawning over each other or reducing our interactions to shallow flattery. It means focusing on each person we meet and trying our darndest to show God’s boundless love for them through our words and actions. How can we do this? Through our own gifts graciously given us by God. A good analogy in this season is the Wise Men, who travelled hundreds of miles to see the child Jesus and then gave him precious, costly gifts, gifts fit for a king.* We should see in each other the face of Jesus and offer our very selves as a gift so that we may rejoice in and with him.

Please, Jesus, may we recognize your presence in ourselves and each other, especially in this season of Advent, anticipating one another in showing welcome, compassion, encouragement, and love. ~

*Sorry, Advent purists: I know the Wise Men don’t show up until Epiphany. I thought it was close enough for the comparison to work.

Random side note: One of the Advent practices I’ve adopted is writing down an instance of God’s grace each day, so here is today’s gift.

• I had the opportunity to give a Christmas card to an elderly parishioner at the church just over the Fox River. At 92 years, this woman is still brimming with life, love, faith, and joy, something that I maybe do on the best of days. She is a true inspiration, and I am so grateful to have gotten the chance to meet her earlier this year and now show her a small sign of my gratitude.