Keeping score

St. Augustine teaches that if we understand something completely, it cannot be God.  We cannot wrap our finite minds around the infinite God.  And yet, God reveals himself to us, who are incapable of fully comprehending.  Thus, we settle for images of God, many of which can tell us something important about God, but all of which – due to the finite creatures who created them – fall woefully short of the fullness of God.  If we forget this, our hearts become hardened, and we close ourselves to our only source of true joy and peace.

When I was a child, my dominant image of God was as a just and fair scorekeeper.  God made up the rules of the game and they were good rules.  My job was to follow the rules and thus earn points that God scrupulously recorded.  When I broke the rules, I lost points, and God was equally scrupulous about recording these. 

Actually, my thinking was that God must have had much bigger fish to fry than me, so he actually delegated the details of scorekeeping to St. Peter, who was ably assisted by the good sisters who taught me at St. Joseph’s School.  But God was omniscient, so he always knew the score, and, in the end, the scorebook would tell me whether I had won or I had lost.  There would be no questioning the call; no instant replay to reverse the decision.

In one sense, this was a useful image for me.  It made following the rules almost second nature to me.  And these weren’t just any rules, they were God’s rules – we’re talking Ten Commandments here.  Others looked at me as trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, etc. – and I wasn’t even a Boy Scout!

Of course, I wasn’t a perfect rule follower – who could be – but I knew I was better than most.  Everybody told me so.  My expanding career and rapidly growing salary told me so.  And with that, much as had happened to the Pharisees we see in today’s passage (Mk 3:1-6), my heart hardened.

For if by following the rules, I not only earned points with God, but also God’s blessings in the form of the esteem of others, material success and good health, than those who didn’t share these same blessings must not deserve them.  God loved me more and blessed me more because I was his obedient son – or at least his more obedient son.  Those who weren’t as obedient didn’t need my help; they just needed to follow the rules as closely as I was following them.  Only then would God love them and bless them as much as he so obviously loved and blessed me.

Jesus quickly unveils the shortcoming of my scorekeeper image of God.  If God has a scorecard that delineates the winners and losers, why shouldn’t I have a scorecard, too?  I divide the world between those that deserve my help and those that don’t; those that deserve my respect and those that don’t; those that deserve my love and those that don’t; and, ultimately, when my heart has become as hard as rock, those that deserve to live and those who don’t.

Jesus will have none of this.  Since nobody can possibly deserve what he has to offer – the complete joy, peace and love of life with his Father – it is offered to all.  All are invited to share in his Father’s love and then called to share his Father’s unbounded and universal love with others. 

Today, we remember and pray for those who are working for the rights of all people, born and unborn, to the God’s great gift of life.  For those braving the cold and snow in Washington today to march for life; for those working for an end to capital punishment in the United States; for those who generously care for the aged and the infirm, preserving their dignity until natural death; for those who seek reconciliation between countries to avoid the bloodshed of war; for all these, we pray that God fills them with courage and strength.

And for all of us who tend to keep score, that our minds stay open to the infinite grandeur of God and our hearts open to the God’s unconditional love, that we may be apostles of that love to one and to all.