Sow love

Sow love

In my younger, professional days, we dreaded the announcement that the company had brought in an “efficiency expert.”  This guy – somehow, it was always a guy – had a clipboard and a stopwatch and he was going to help us find ways to work better – fewer steps, less waste.  Maybe we didn't cooperate as well as we could have or should have, but few things changed

Later on, we got more sophisticated.  Instead of efficiency experts, we were introduced to process re-engineering.  We formed committees to figure out better “work flows” – fewer steps, less waste.  We filled shelves and shelves of blue binders – it was IBM, the binders were always blue – with diagrams and tables that showed what we did and how we could do it better.  I’m not sure we ferreted out much waste.  The binders were rarely opened again.

I suppose these efforts made some sense in a world with limited resources.  If there is only so much of something, one should try to maximize the efficiency of using up that something.  But Jesus tells us that in God’s kingdom, efficiency is not important since the key resource – God’s love – is infinite.  No matter how much we “use,” we will never use it up.  It keeps on coming.

In God’s kingdom, it doesn't matter if some of the seed falls on the road, or on rocky ground, or among the thorns, for the seed that falls on good soil yields thirty or sixty or one hundred fold.

In God’s kingdom, we are to “sow” God’s love – literally scatter God’s love, for that is the root meaning of sow – indiscriminately and extravagantly.  We are not to be concerned if, by loving others as God loves us, we don’t often see God’s love returned from others in any discernible way.  We feed the poor, yet tomorrow, there are more who are hungry.  We may shelter the homeless, yet tomorrow, the shelter’s beds will still be full.  We may love our enemies, yet they may, despite our love, still hate us and may even persecute.  It seems a waste of our love, a waste of God’s love.

When we fall into that trap, we are like those who considered Jesus’ death on the cross an ending, an end of hope, an end of a good man who only wished the best for everyone he met.  It wasn't the end, it was only the beginning.   Some of the love Jesus sowed in the hearts of those first few disciples yielded much more than a hundred-fold, for over a billion people today profess faith in Jesus.

Having the faith to share God’s unconditional and infinite love – with our families, with our friends, with our neighbors, with our enemies – may be the most inefficient thing we do, yet nothing can have greater effect.

Throw out the clipboards, the stopwatches and the binders.  Love as God loves his creation.  It is all we need do.  It is everything the world needs.

Dare to sow love extravagantly.  Dare to sow love indiscriminately.  Might I even say, dare to sow love inefficiently; and the kingdom of God will be yours.

Fruits for the world

Fruits for the World

Twenty-five hundred years ago, King Cyrus of Persia released the Jewish people from exile and they have just returned to Jerusalem.  While they have regained their homeland, a generation of exile has left them without much religion.  Ezra the priest has a tower built.  He climbs the tower and proclaims to the people the word of God from the Torah so that all could hear.  Thus, the people reclaim their faith and regain the hope and strength to continue rebuilding the Temple, rejoicing in the Lord.

Five hundred years later, the Temple has regained the splendor of Solomon’s first temple, yet the people are in great distress.  They are ruled by godless men who do not respect Yahweh, who worship Caesar as divine, who demand tribute, who humiliate and debase those whom they have conquered.  Jesus himself steps up in the synagogue as Ezra climbed his tower.  Filled with the Spirit, Jesus proclaims that he is anointed by the Spirit to bring glad tidings to the poor, liberty to captives, sight to the blind, freedom for those oppressed, a year of favor to the Lord.  He will right what is wrong, and usher in the kingdom of God.  This he does, though not as many expected he would.  But by his gentle life of love and mercy, by his acceptance of death on the cross and by his resurrection, he redeems the world, offering salvation to one and all, modeling for each of us what it means to be human, what God created us to be.

Despite Jesus’ sacrifice, we are still in great distress today.  We live in world where billions of people live in abject poverty, barely subsisting from day to day.  At the same time, we live in a world where many people are held captive by addictions to the pleasures of this world – drugs, gluttony, pornography, possessions, the esteem of others – yet they are never satisfied.  We live in a world where many are blind to salvation, blind to God, their sight limited to this merely finite, time-bound world.  We live in a world oppressed by those who seek temporal power through violence and evil.  We live in a world that seems abandoned by God, a joyless, dark world bereft of hope.

It seems we need Jesus to stand up for us once more as he did in Nazareth so long ago.  But that is not necessary.  Jesus has empowered each of us to do his bidding.  

Anointed by the Holy Spirit at our baptisms, we are joined with Jesus Christ in sharing his mission of priest, prophet and king; we are made members of the one body of Christ.  Once again anointed in the Spirit at our confirmations, we receive the gifts of wisdom and knowledge, understanding and counsel, courage, fortitude, and piety.  And as we live in the Spirit, our lives bear its fruits, fruits which enrich our world, fruits which free our world, fruits which give sight to our world, and fruits which bring joy to the world.

By our unstinting generosity and kindness, we proclaim the good news of our benevolent God’s providence to the poorest of the poor.  We feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, clothe the naked, shelter the homeless, and welcome the stranger.

By our unconditional love which bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things and endures all things; and by the peace of Christ which abides in our hearts – we proclaim liberty to those trapped in despair, giving then hope in the living Christ.  We proclaim liberty to those held captive by addictions, offering them love which never ends, which satisfies completely.

By our stolid faithfulness and self-control, we give sight to the blind that they may see the only one who was faithful to all humanity as it took him to the cross; the one who remains faithful to us to this very day; the one who, even when we deny him, will remain faithful to us, ever present to us, ever calling us to a vision and a life that goes, like him, beyond the grave, beyond time itself.

By our persevering patience and sublime gentleness, we set the oppressed free from violence and evil, for while afflicted, we are never crushed; while persecuted, never abandoned; while struck down, never destroyed.  We give courage to the oppressed that they may overcome evil with good, retribution with reconciliation, and violence with virtue.

Finally, by our joy in celebrating the sacraments of the Lord, our joy in the presence of the Lord in all of our daily activities, we proclaim that every day is the first day of a year of favor to the Lord, a day that the Lord has made, a day for the world to rejoice in and be glad of.

The Spirit of the Lord is upon us, for he has anointed us, he has gifted us, and he has empowered us as Christ’s body to bear great fruit – fruit that brings good news to the poor, liberty to captives, sight to the blind, freedom to the oppressed, and joy to the world.

Rules

Jesus entered the synagogue.   There was a man there who had a withered hand.  The Pharisees watched him closely to see if he would cure him on the sabbath so that they might accuse him.  He said to the man with the withered hand, “Come up here before us.”  Then he said to the Pharisees, “Is it lawful to do good on the sabbath rather than to do evil, to save life rather than to destroy it?” But they remained silent.  Looking around at them with anger and grieved at their hardness of heart, he said to the man, “Stretch out your hand.” He stretched it out and his hand was restored.  The Pharisees went out and immediately took counsel with the Herodians against him to put him to death. (Mk 1-6)

When we were young, my brother, eighteen months younger than me, and I could have been poster children for the people doing research on birth order tendencies.  I’d be the quiet one, nose in a book or working on a jigsaw puzzle, never a problem, ready at any moment to pop and up and do whatever errand was asked of me.  Dutiful to the bone, “yes, Mom” was my middle name.  My brother, Don, on the other hand, would be the one getting the baby powder out and seeing what it would look like if it snowed in the living room.  Rebel to the core, “rules, what rules?” was his motto.

My rule-following bias seemed to be part of every aspect of my life.  I was always intrigued by numbers – they followed the rules.  At IBM, I found that if I followed the rules, worked hard, and made my boss look good, success followed.  I enjoyed sports from the point of view of how the coaches strategized and the players performed in the context of the rules of the game. 

And finally, I was Catholic.  Boy, do we have rules.  I followed the rules as best I could.  And even if I broke a rule or two along the way, there were more rules about how I could get back in the game.  And then, after a presumably long and blessed life, I would die and meet good old St. Peter at the pearly gates.  And, what do you think he had – this big score book – the master rule book – with my name on one of the pages.  As I was following the rules, St. Peter was keeping score to see if I won the game!  Of course, dutiful as I had been and had planned on being, I was always pretty confident of winning entry through those pearly gates.

When I think about it, I am also sure that I would have been a pretty good Pharisee in Jesus’ day.  And, as we see in today’s passage, that would have grieved Jesus terribly.

For people like the Pharisees and me, the rules became how we defined ourselves, and more importantly, how we defined others.  Follow the rules closely, and you are on the side of good.  You win.  Ignore the rules, flaunt the rules, pretend the rules are just not for you, and you are evil.  You lose.

Of course, not everyone was as good at following the rules as I was.  Truth be told, I wasn't even that good at following the rules, but it was clear – to me at least – that I was better at it than many others.  Certainly I was better than my brother, eh?  Truly, my heart had hardened.  As Jesus grieved at the hardened hearts of the Pharisees, so he grieved at mine.

You see, following the rules is insidiously tempting.  If you pick the right set of rules – fair and just rules – for much of the time that you are following them, they are leading down a road right next to Jesus.  You may think that you are on the road with Jesus.  But if your eyes are only on the rules, you are simply following a road that, for a time, runs parallel to Jesus’ road.

At some point – perhaps in a yellow wood – the two roads will diverge.  If your eyes are on the rule book, you will miss the road that Jesus takes.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence;

Two roads diverged in a wood – and I

I took the one less traveled by

And that has made all the difference.

It’s your choice: follow the rules or follow Jesus.

Follow Jesus.  

Lessons from Cana

Perhaps the most curious aspect of the wedding feast at Cana (Jn 2:1-12) is the exchange between Mary and Jesus.  If we read it closely, we discover much out about Mary, about Jesus, and about ourselves.

In Jesus’ day, a wedding feast was a glorious affair, perhaps lasting a week or more.  At the feast, the groom lavishly provided for his guests in what would be the biggest social event of his life.  In a society which prided itself on hospitality, his reputation as a good host and a good provider would be made – or broken – on this single occasion.  To run out of wine in mid-feast would be the ultimate disaster.

Mary and Jesus are simply guests at this feast – they have no responsibility for seeing that things go well.  Yet Mary notices the lack of wine even before the host is aware of it and she takes action – she goes to the one who she knows can do something about it.  She’s not quite sure what he can do, but she is confident he can do whatever it takes.

And then comes the curious part.  She goes to Jesus and he seems to be insulting her.  “Woman, what does this concern of yours have to do with me?  My hour has not yet come.”  To our modern ears, this seems more than a bit cold.  I can imagine my own mom’s response if I replied to her like this.  Why would Jesus seem to be so demeaning and dismissive to his own mother?   But is he?  Jesus addresses Mary only one other time in John’s gospel.  He is hanging on the cross, looking down at his devoted mother and the beloved disciple mourning his suffering at the foot of the cross.  And he says:  “Woman, behold your son.”  And to the disciple, “Behold your mother.”  Obviously, the use of the term “woman” in Jesus’ culture was neither dismissive nor discourteous.

He is simply asking his mother why he should act now.  He knows that his “hour” – in John’s gospel this always refers to the hour of his death of the cross – has not yet come.  But still confident that “mom knows best,” and that Jesus will heed her request, Mary tells the waiters, “Do whatever he tells you.”

So what have we learned?  First, we see Mary as a model for our own behavior.  Attuned to the needs of those around her, she intercedes to alleviate those needs.  Just so, we must be oriented towards the other, selflessly looking to the needs of others and doing what we can to alleviate their distress.  Also confident in the power and benevolence of her son, Jesus, Mary goes to the one who can help in all things.  Just so, we must depend on Jesus for help in our greatest difficulties.  Finally, Mary directs the waiters, as she directs us, to listen to the one who has great power, who has great love, whose desire for each of us is to be one with him and with our heavenly father.  Do whatever he tells you.

Second, we see a Jesus who, in some mysterious way, is fully human as well as fully divine.  This is a critical, but sometimes glossed over, article of our faith.   We do not believe that God simply pretended to be a human being, as the Greek and Roman gods often did, so that he could teach us and interact with us.  We do not believe that Jesus, in his human nature, had the full knowledge and power of the divine second person of the trinity.  He had a fully human mind and a fully human soul.  To believe otherwise destroys the power of his life, the power of his suffering and death, the power of his resurrection.

When we see Jesus as a mortal human being, and then see how he suffered to live the life that he teaches us to live, we gain a deeper appreciation for how he wants us to live.  We are less likely to use excuses to compromise his teachings – he was God, he could do that; for us mere humans, it's too hard!"

When he tells us to love our enemies, to pray for those who persecute us, we listen and do not hear, “unless they do something really, really evil.”

When he teaches us to turn the other cheek, we listen and do not hear, “unless the other person hits you first.”

When he says we should feed the hungry, we listen and do not hear, “unless the lazy slug won’t get a job like the rest of us and feed himself.”

When he says to welcome the stranger, give shelter the homeless, we listen and do not hear, “unless they managed to get around the legal and physical barriers we put up to keep them in their place.”

When we stop compromising what Jesus teaches, when we simply do whatever he tells us, we become selfless and generous, loving and kind, much as Mary and Jesus are at the wedding feast.  We become, like the changing of the water in wine, a sign of God’s glory on earth, a sign that our God has brought salvation to our world.

Thus did Jesus reveal his glory, so his disciples might believe in him.  Thus do we reveal his glory, so the world might believe in him.

Be still

An idle mind is the devil’s workshop.  Idle hands do the devil’s work.  Those old expressions certainly ring true.  That is why they are so old – they speak truth!  The devil is indeed a crafty fellow.  He takes advantage of those times when we have nothing to do and suggests a path that certainly leads to no good.

Yet, in my own life, I find the devil can work equally well in time of great busy-ness.  So often, I wake up in the morning with a laundry list of things to do and not really knowing where to find the time to do them.  Jesus tells us often to pray constantly, but where can I find the time?  Sure, I can offer up all my efforts to God – that is prayer.  I occasionally remember to thank God for some grace – this is prayer.  I even remember – most days – to do my morning and evening prayers.  That is certainly prayer!

Yet all of these prayers are not enough.   First, they can become almost mechanical.  I check them off my list just like all of the other items on that day’s agenda.  Second, they are just me talking to God.  They are a one-way conversation.  I talk to God, complain to God, thank and praise God, but I never listen.  Who has time for that?

And that’s the devil’s gotcha.  Sometimes, he keeps me so busy I think I have no time to listen to God.  Most insidiously, he keeps telling me that all the things I do are really good things – I’m teaching, I’m preaching, I’m serving, I’m doing what people need me to do.  What’s so wrong about that?

In today’s reading (Mk 1:29-39), Jesus has a very busy day.  He returns from synagogue to Peter’s house and finds out that Peter’s mother-in-law in sick.  The disciples ask Jesus to do something and he cures her.  Pretty soon, the entire town is outside the door and Jesus is healing one, casting demons from another, and they just keep coming.  Then we read: “In the morning, while it was still dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed. (Mt 1:35)

Jesus knew his mission was not to do what he wanted.  It was not to do what others wanted.  His mission was to do what the Father wanted.  And to know his Father’s will, he had to take the time – to make the time – to be alone with his Father, praying.

Peter and the disciples find Jesus and tell him to come back – there are more people that need him.  Jesus knows that as fruitful and fulfilling and helpful those healings were, they were only keeping him from his bigger mission, the mission of his Father, the mission he presumably discerned in his early morning retreat in prayer.

Jesus example applies to each of us who live such busy lives.  We also need to make the time to listen to God, to be enlightened by God, to know what his will is for us.  How do we find that “deserted place” where we can be still the noise and the busy-ness to listen to God? 

For me, adoration before the Blessed Sacrament is my first line of defense.  Other than the occasional holy hour during Lent, this prayer had never been part of my life as a child or young adult.  But about twenty years ago, St. Mary’s Parish in Ridgefield, my home parish at that time, began a perpetual adoration chapel.  As I was in formation as a deacon at the time, I thought maybe this would be something that would help.  At any rate, it couldn’t hurt.

Since that time, with only a brief interruption, four o’clock on Friday morning has been a special time in my week.  Now, I adore at the chapel at St. Marguerite in Brookfield, but the place doesn’t matter; the hour does.  In the dark and quiet of the early morning, my troubles, my worries, my concerns are put to rest before Jesus. 

And in the stillness, in the quiet, my priorities shift.  I discern where my wants and needs match with those of God, and where my wants and needs are simply my own wants and needs, things that the devil has placed before me to lure me away from God.

I would have never dreamed that this hour would be so important to me, but I miss it whenever the weather or my travel schedule keeps me from it.  I am refreshed by it whenever I am there.

Be still.   

Take the plunge

The Feast of the Baptism of the Lord

Water is the principal symbol of baptism.  This is quite apt for water points to two characters of the sacrament.  First, we know that water cleanses us.  Just so, we believe that the grace we receive at the sacrament of baptism – a word from the Greek word for “to plunge” – washes us clean from original sin and any personal sins we may have committed.  John the Baptist adapted and extended the Jewish cleansing ritual into his baptism in the Jordan for the forgiveness of sins.

For much of our Church's history, our focus has been on this particular character of baptism. So concerned were we about this that new parents would take the American Express card attitude towards baptism.  They were encouraged to “not leave home without it,” making sure that their baby was baptized as soon as possible.  If we look back at our records, we’d find that most of us cradle-Catholic baby boomers were baptized in the first few weeks of our lives.

However, the baptism of Jesus by John points us to another character of Baptism, for Jesus had no need for forgiveness of sins - he was "like us in all ways but sin."  Yet Jesus submits humbly to this baptism to identify Himself with the sinners of His day, with the sinners of all time, with us.  This baptism is not the end of His sin, for that never existed in the first place, but the beginning of His mission on earth - to, as Isaiah puts it, "open the eyes of the blind, to bring out prisoners from confinement...to free those who live in darkness."  This is the road to the Cross, the road that Jesus starts to travel with His baptism by John.

And, in our baptisms, we become identified with Christ, incorporated into Christ and His Body here on the earth, the Church.  By incorporation into Christ, we not only receive forgiveness of sins, we commit ourselves to His mission, to follow Jesus, to do as He did.  Baptism is not simply a cleansing of the old, but the start of a new way of life.  In Paul's words to the Romans, with baptism, we "walk in the newness of life."  As we must drink water to preserve our earthly lives, the waters of baptism symbolize for us our new spiritual life – a life in Christ, a life in the Spirit.

To live this new life, we make promises – or our parents and godparents made promises for us – during our baptism.  We promise to reject Satan, to reject all of his works, and to reject his empty promises.

We reject Satan when we reject a life which excludes God, for that is what Satan desires for each of us – the absence of God. 

Rather, we insist on living in and gaining strength from a deep and abiding relationship with God, praying constantly, seeking to know God through his revelation in Scripture, and participating in the sacraments. 

We reject Satan’s work when we reject violence, for it is by the force of violence that Satan attempts to mask the love of God, to darken the light of the world, and to draw us apart from one another.

Rather, we insist on the force of God’s infinite and unconditional love.  We insist on loving others as God, who created each one of us in love, loves us – without limit, without condition.

We reject Satan’s empty promises when we reject pride – the pride that lets us believe that we can secure and make permanent earthly pleasures and happiness through our own efforts; the pride sets ourselves above others; the pride that we can eliminate discomfort and pain in our lives by destroying those who cause us discomfort and pain; the pride that lets us act as if we can save ourselves. 

Rather, we humbly accept the salvation that Jesus won for every person on earth by his death and resurrection.  We insist on seeing every other person as one for whom Jesus suffered and died on the cross.  We humbly carry Jesus’s cross by forming our will to God’s will, turning away from self and towards the other.

In baptism, God invites us to plunge into a new life with him.  It is a life which requires us to reject our apparent self-interest.  It is a life of the cross, a life of humility, and a life of service.  

However, it is also a life created through God’s gracious love, a life redeemed through God’s unconditional love, a life sustained and strengthened by infinite God’s love. 

We need nothing more.  Take the plunge.

God is love

Theologians tell us that we can never know God completely.  We cannot wrap our finite minds around the infinite God.  Whatever words we use to describe God must fall far short of the reality of God.  In essence, we must reduce God whenever we try to fit God into mere words.  Ideally, our proper response to God would be sheer awe and silence.

However, God reveals himself (there I go, reducing God to a male being, but it can’t be helped) to us in many ways.  God reveals himself to us in the beauty of his creation, in the sacred words of Scripture, in faith-filled prayer, through the presence of the Holy Spirit, through the sacraments, and, most perfectly, in the incarnation of his son, Jesus.

This self-revelation of God is vital, for a foundational revelation is that God desires to be in relationship with us and with his creation.  Thus, we believe that God is not simply a divine clock-maker  who winds up the world and then leaves it, never again to be interested or concerned about it.  As relationship is impossible with knowing something of the other, God’s continuing self-revelation allows us to know something of God, even if it cannot be the totality of God.

Perhaps one of the most succinct, yet deeply profound, revelations of God is found in the first letter of John, chapter 4, verse 8 – “God is love.”

For most of my life, I saw this as platitudinous, not profound.  My vision of love was quite saccharine – the doting love of parents for their newborn child or the infatuating love of newlyweds for each other.  Love was romantic, that rare and often fleeting emotion that caused particular people to feel deeply attached to each other, to feel that they could not live apart from one other.  It sounded so glorious to my ears, but this is only a pale shadow of the gospel version of love, the love to which John equates God.

It was my own thinking that was shallow, not John’s insight.  I had completely missed the scope of Christian love, what this implies about God, and, more importantly, the transformational implications this has for my life and my relationships with God and with every other human being.

God’s love is universal, not for the few, but for the many – “God so loved the world that he gave his only son” (Jn 3:16a).  God’s love for us is gratuitous, not conditioned by our merits, for “God proves his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Rom 5:8).  To return and to pass on God’s love is the essence of what God requires of us – “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind.  This is the greatest and the first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” (Mt 22:37-39).  Christian love mirrors God’s universal and unconditional love – “love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” (Mt 5:44)  Christian love is sacrificial – “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” (Jn 15:13).  Love identifies us as Christians – “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” (Jn 13:35).

Contrary to my childish understanding, Christian love is not an emotion I passively fall into, it is a choice I actively make.  It is the choice God made when he gave us life.  It is the choice God made when he became one of us.  It is the choice Jesus made when he died for each one of us.  It is the choice we make to abide in love with God.  It is the choice we make to love every other human being as God loves, without limit or condition.  As Pope John Paul II describes love, it is the choice we make to want and to do that which is the best for the other at all times.

Like all choices, Christian love is dichotomous.  If we choose one thing, we must necessarily reject that which contradicts our choice.  We cannot have our cake and eat it too.

Choosing to live in God’s love, we choose hope; we reject despair.

Choosing to live in God’s love, we choose gentleness; we reject anger.

Choosing to live in God’s love, we choose courage; we reject fear.

Choosing to live in God’s love, we choose generosity; we reject greed.

Choosing to live in God’s love, we choose kindness; we reject violence.

Choosing to live in God’s love, we choose mercy; we reject vengeance.

Choosing to live in God’s love, we choose life; we reject death.

God is love.  Choose God.  Choose love.

Star of wonder

Solemnity of the Epiphany

So what about this star of Bethlehem thing?  Obviously, it’s not just a normal star or we’d see it today.  Could it have been a super-nova, a comet, or a meteor of some kind?  Maybe it wasn't a star at all, but the conjunction of planets or some other astrological sign that the Magi read as important.  But why would any of these things lead the magi to a particular place?  Maybe it was a miracle sent by God – like the pillar of fire that led the Israelites through the desert.  But if it was, why couldn't Herod and his counselors also see it?  Or perhaps we’re just over-thinking this.  For Matthew, it was simply important that something led the Magi to Jesus.

Today, we live a world can seem far, far away from Jesus.  Unending war, violence striking uncomfortably close to home, threats of terrorism, countless abortions, embarrassing scandals, relentless poverty, tragic natural disasters, you name it, we have it.  At times, perhaps more often than not, it seems hopeless.  But hope there is.

The Magi found hope in the little child Jesus.  Now the Magi were Gentiles, not Jewish.  They did not have sacred scripture to lead them to Jesus.  They did not have a history of living in covenant with God to direct them to Jesus.  They needed that star to lead them to Jesus, to give them hope.  Where is the star of Bethlehem that can lead us to Jesus today when we so desperately need hope? 

Jesus calls each one of us to be stars that lead people to him. How do we do that?  Are we to preach in the streets?  Are we to invite someone to come to Mass with us?  I suppose either of these is OK, but Jesus has something simpler, yet much more profound, in mind.

A bit later in Matthew’s gospel, Jesus clues us in on how we can be a star – a light to all people.  He states that his disciples are the light of the world, a city set on a hill for all to see.  We are a lamp that is not hidden under a bushel basket, but set on a stand to shine before all, that they may see our good deeds – good deeds that are so selfless and altruistic that their only motivation can be from some higher power – and give glory to the God who would inspire such selfless generosity.

For the past few weeks in Newtown, we have basked in and followed the light of many stars.  Tens of thousands of letters and prayers from around the world, magnanimous offers of services and money, countless gifts of rosaries, prayer shawls, teddy bears, flowers, the list goes on.  We have stood in awe, praising and glorifying God, witnessing the deep faith and courage of the families that were directly affected.  These have been our stars of Bethlehem, leading us to the presence of Jesus, the presence of love, the presence of hope. 

Yet, seeing and following is not enough.  We are also impelled to reflect on how well each of us has been living our own call to be the shining light that leads others to Jesus.  How have my actions caused others to find Jesus?  Jesus’ own suggestions for being a star are a good place to start this reflection.

He tells us to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us.  But when I revel in gossip about those whom I dislike or if I wish evil on those who have done evil, why would anyone find Jesus by following me?

He tells us that if someone strikes us on the right cheek, to offer the other cheek as well, to not retaliate in kind but to fight evil with good.  But when I strike out in anger against the one who has hurt me, when I resort to bombs and bullets to settle my affairs, why would anyone find Jesus by following me?

He tells us not to worry about what we are to wear and what we are to eat – we are to trust in the God who loves us infinitely and unconditionally, who feeds the sparrows who do not reap and the clothes the grass which does not weave.  But when I obsess about my financial well-being; when I jealously hoard my meager possessions instead of sharing God’s plenty with those around me; why would anyone find Jesus by following me?

Jesus understands that he is asking us to act unnaturally – and that’s exactly the point. 

It’s natural to love only those who love you – even the heathen do as much.  Jesus calls us to the unconditional and universal love that the supernatural God bestows on each of us. 

It’s natural to exact appropriate retaliation for any injury – we call that human justice.  Jesus calls us to supernatural divine mercy that God offered us in sending Jesus to become one of us, to die for us that we might be reconciled to God.

It’s natural to plan for our financial success and take care of number one first – we call that prudence.  Jesus calls us to supernaturally unbounded generosity, the giving of our very lives as He gave his life for us.

Jesus then becomes our star by living out his teachings.  He is compassionate and loving to all, saints and sinners alike.  He trusts His Father’s will even when it leads him to the cross.  He then prays for the very people who are nailing him to that cross.  And he says: “Follow me.”

Nature can only lead to nature.  The Star of Bethlehem – which nobody can explain in natural terms – truly a supernatural star of wonder – led the magi to the supernatural, to God-made-man, to the one who takes on our human nature that we might share in His divine nature, the one who is our true star, the light which darkness will never overcome, the one who is our unfailing guide, leading us to eternal salvation.

See the star.  Follow the star.  Be the star.

Christian humility

Feast of Sts. Basil the Great and Gregory Nazianzen

As for you, do not be called ‘Rabbi.’ You have but one teacher, and you are all brothers.  Call no one on earth your father; you have but one Father in heaven.  Do not be called ‘Master’; you have but one master, the Messiah.  The greatest among you must be your servant.  Whoever exalts himself will be humbled; but whoever humbles himself will be exalted.  (Mt 23:8-12)

It is very apt that we celebrate the feast day of St. Basil the Great today during the Christmas season.  St. Basil, who lived in the fourth century, countered the teachings of the Arians who believed that Jesus was simply a human being, albeit a very special human being, who could not possibly have a divine nature as this would imply more than one God.  St. Basil held firm to the belief in the Trinitarian God, constantly preaching and writing about it.

During this Christmas season, we celebrate the coming of Jesus into the world, God becoming man so that we might share in his divinity.  Who could have imagined such a gift?  And it was pure gift.  We didn't work for it, we didn't earn it; we didn't then; we don't now, and we will never deserve it.  It was a gift of God’s love, a gift of God’s mercy, pure and simple.

As St. Paul described to us in yesterday’s passage, through this gift, we are adopted as sons and daughters of God, heirs, if you will, of God’s kingdom.  This is incredibly magnificent.  What a gift!

Ironically, through this gift, God has lifts us higher than we were before the Incarnation, yet he also humbles each of us as He offers this gift to each and every human being, ignoring the false distinctions which we can make among ourselves.  To accept the gift, we also have to accept this essential equality among all humanity.

I often have trouble with this.  Pride misleads me.  I easily think that I am somehow more deserving, somehow more believing, somehow more holy, somehow more loved and more exalted, just somehow more than others who are obviously somehow less than me. 

And when I fall into this trap – truly the snare of the devil - when I start believing that titles and plaudits make me more exalted than others, I have refused the gift of Jesus.  I act as one who knows or cares nothing about Jesus, God-made-man.  I love only those who love me.  I hate those who hate me, and I reject the universal brotherhood and sisterhood that Jesus calls each of us to live in, that the kingdom of God is all about.  I have chosen hell over the salvation Jesus won for all of us by humbling himself to become one of us.

Accept the gift.  Reject pride.  Love unconditionally and universally as God loves the world.  See in each and every person one whom Jesus was born for and one whom Jesus died for, as he was born and died for me, as he was born and died for you. 

Be humble, and accept the exaltation God has prepared for you, an exaltation beyond your wildest imagination.

Tempus fugit

Time flies.  Just over a month from now, God willing, our daughter Mary Kate will have a baby and Mary and I will become grandparents for the first time!  How did we get that old?  For parents, time seems to compress as we see our children sprout before us.  We begin in wonder and awe seeing them as newborns, our imaginations filled with the possibilities of this new life.  Before we know it, the days turn to months, the months to years, and our kids are grown and having kids of their own.

Perhaps today’s rapid pace of technological and social change makes time speed by.  My laptop is outdated in six months at the latest.  Why don’t I already have a tablet?  It's certainly possible to own the coolest cell phone in the world, but it is only the coolest for about a month and a half.  It doesn't help that the media, our co-workers, and our acquaintances are constantly telling us that we must do this or buy that or risk being hopelessly out of synch with those around us.

All of this can cause quite a bit of angst.  We worry that we've missed something while the days have rushed past us.  We worry about what we need to buy to assure that we don't miss the rushing train of the tomorrows to come.

When the angst starts to get the better of us, we turn to Mary our model.  While Mary, unlike Joseph, actually has lines in the Gospels, in today’s passage, Mary is silent.  She watches as the shepherds come to see and honor her child; she sees the effect her newborn baby has on this rough and tumble lot; and she keeps all these things – in some translations, she treasures all these things – reflecting on them in her heart.

Just as Mary is still and reflects on the meaning of this stable-born child, we too must still ourselves that we might reflect on the meaning of this birth.  For this child, “born of a woman, born under the law” some two thousand years ago is the promised Emmanuel, God with us.  He is God’s only Son; the sign of God’s infinite and unconditional love for us; the one who will take our sins and take our deaths to the cross with him; the one who frees us from worry and fills us with peace, frees us from hate and fills us with love, frees us form want and fills us with joy, the one who is raised and lives with us today and tomorrow and the next day until the end of time.  Through him, we become, as St. Paul reminds us, the adopted sons and daughters of God.  No longer slaves to time, slaves to possessions, slaves to pleasure, we now call God Abba, loving Father.

When we treasure this thought and keep it in our hearts, we rejoice as the shepherds did on seeing the baby in swaddling clothes.  We give glory and thanks to God for his great love.  We realize that Christmas is not a single day of celebration, over before we know it.  Christmas is an on-going life of joy, gratitude and peace.

With that thought in our hearts, we pray for God’s blessings as Aaron blessed the people:

The LORD bless you and keep you!
The LORD let his face shine upon you, and be gracious to you!
The LORD look upon you kindly and give you peace!

May this new year and all of your years to come be filled with the peace, joy, and presence of Christ.