Sorrowful Joy, Joyful Sorrow

The story of Adam and Eve's fall from grace rings true in a special way for parents.

You put a new carpet in the living room and tell the kids that there is no food or drink in the living room.  Eat in the kitchen, eat in the family room, even take your snacks to the bedroom if you want, but no food in the living room.  Where do find the next empty dish or glass?

You bake a special dessert for relatives that are coming to visit and, as you leave the house, you tell the kids there are lots of things to snack on in the house, but don't touch the cookies cooling on the counter; we're saving them for Aunt Mary and Uncle John.  So how many cookies are missing when you come home?

Few things test juvenile curiosity more than a “Keep Out” or “Don’t Touch” sign.

Frustrating as this might be, when our memories don't fail us and we are honest with ourselves, we remember that we tested our own parents' patience in much the same way.  In fact, we haven't grown up all that much.  We still don't like to obey those limits imposed by others.  When the speed limit is 25, how fast do we drive?  My average is probably about 35 or 40.  Okay, so now we're on a road where the speed limit is 40, how fast do we drive?  I plead the fifth.

Limits:  Our kids don't like to obey them.  We don't like to obey them.  We spend our lives testing them, trying to get around them, trying to eliminate them.  In some sense, this is good. It can lead to discoveries, to advances that would never be possible if someone didn't venture out beyond what others perceived to be an unsurpassable limit.

Lent reminds that there is an absolute limit.  This is the limit of our creatureliness, our nature as finite, created beings.  When we test this ultimate limit, we can only bring ourselves pain and misery, for we separate ourselves from our source, we separate ourselves from the Creator.

Despite aspiring to absolute independence, literally the independence of being my own god, I am always subject to outside influences.  I might like to think I’m “doing it my way” or "being the master of my destiny", but I’m simply choosing which master I will obey - whose limits I should accept.

Do I accept the limits of a mere fellow creature or do I accept the limits of my Creator? True joy and happiness can only be realized if I not only accept, but embrace the limits of my creatureliness, if I accept the fact that as a creature, I have a Creator, a Creator who, as He reveals himself to us in Scripture, loves us with an infinite and unconditional love; subjects himself to testing, torture and death that we might be saved from our own sinful ways; and calls us to love him and love others with our whole hearts, with our whole minds, with our whole strength.

During Lent, we live out dramatic contrasts: the great sorrow at our sins and the incomparable joy of our redemption; the “happy fault” of Adam that leads to such a savior as Jesus Christ; the limits of our creatureliness and the limitless love of our Creator.

We fast to remember the sacrifice Christ endured for us, emptying ourselves to appreciate the fullness of God’s mercy.  We pray for the strength to resist temptation, to thank and praise God for his gracious bounty, and to come closer to our source of joy.  We give alms to share His love and spread the true peace He alone can offer. 

Let the sorrowful joy, the joyful sorrow, of Lent begin.  

Spring Training

Ever since I was a little kid, this has been an exciting time of year for me.  No, I wasn’t that excited about Lent.  I’ve always been a big baseball fan and spring training has begun!  All things are possible.  

But perhaps it’s some sort of God-incidence that Lent and baseball’s spring training overlap.  Just the ballplayers in Florida and Arizona are brushing up their pitching, batting and fielding skills for the regular season, we can use Lent to brush up our spiritual practices of prayer, almsgiving and fasting for our year-round roles as Easter people, those people who have been baptized and made one with Christ in his roles as priest, prophet and king.

In our priestly role, we are a bridge from the world to God.  Jesus, of course, was perfect in this role, since he was God-become-man.  To be effective in our priestly role, we must connect ourselves more closely to God.  Prayer, especially combined with the grace of the sacraments, is a most efficacious means of making this connection.  What can you do this Lent to enhance your prayer life or your participation in the sacraments that you might be a more holy, more priestly person?

A prophet is one who proclaims the word of God.  Jesus was the perfect prophet – so much so that we call him the Word of God.  “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” (John 1:1).   While we may not be skilled preachers, we can join Jesus as prophets by our acts of love.  What can you do this Lent to begin or improve your practice of almsgiving or other charitable acts that these prophetic acts may allow others to better feel the love that God has for each of his children?

As kings, we are just care-takers and stewards of God’s creation.  Jesus came to save not just us, but all of creation, and he entrusts the world to our care.  We cannot do this without being conscientious consumers of the world’s resources.  Fasting is an excellent way to become more conscious of what we consume – the food we eat, the water we drink, the air we breathe, the fuel we burn.  How can you use fasting this Lent to become more conscious of wasteful consumption and habits, that you might be a more just steward of God’s creation?

This Lent, may all of us, through prayer, almsgiving and fasting, more fully realize our calling to be priest, prophet and king  – a truly Easter people.  

Patience

As a boy, whenever I was nagging my mom for something that just didn’t seem to be coming to me as quickly as I though it should, her response was, “Remember, patience is a virtue.”

Today, we live in a culture which treats patience as a vice.  We cannot wait for anything to be done without working on at least one or two other things.  We check our email while eating lunch at the desk and listening to music on the iPod while responding to texts on the iPhone.  Smelling the roses is out; multitasking is in.

We turn on the TV and are bombarded with the concept that our lives cannot be complete until we have the latest this or the latest that.  Fortunately, we can buy it NOW.  No money, no problem!  Charge it.  Stores are closed, no problem!  Go to the web or call the 800-number NOW!  Operators are standing by.  What are you waiting for?  This is a limited time offer.  Your very happiness depends on your response.  Act now or you lose.

As is true in so many things, Scripture and our faith give us a much different message.  Patience, Paul tells us, is a fruit of the Holy Spirit (Gal 5:22).  It is closely tied to the theological virtue of hope, our confidence that God’s will is directed to the salvation of all of his creation, despite the apparent setbacks and obvious pains that we experience living in a time of already, but not yet.

The fruit of patience allows us to bear these pains and setbacks with the mercy and love which Jesus showed to those who opposed him, even to those who killed him.   Again, Paul reminds us that this patience characterizes the love that is the foundation of our lives as Christians, for love is patient, love is kind (1 Cor 13:4). 

Yet we easily lapse into impatience as our knowledge of God’s will is never completely perfect.  Oftentimes, like the blind man in today’s passage, our sight is a bit fuzzy, only seeing “people like trees walking.” (Mk 8:22-26)  Now, we see in a mirror, dimly, not as we shall see when we are face to face with God (1 Cor 13:12).

We are also hampered by our human sense of limited time, while God operates above and beyond time.  As the blind man does today, we must wait patiently for God to work out his plan in our lives.  We remember, as the psalmist and St. Peter tell us, that for God, a thousand years is like a single day (Ps 90:4, 2 Pt 3:8).

Outside the walls of this church, the maelstrom of daily life awaits us...the strident cries for more and more, for faster and faster, for now, now, now.  What can we do?  You have already taken a great step.  You’ve carved out time in your day for communion with God, communion with each other as church.

How else can we separate ourselves from the maelstrom?

Our readings today give us a clue.  James insists that we be “doers of the word and not just hearers…one who acts…cares for widow and orphans in their affliction” (Jas 1:19-27).  In Psalm 15, we are asked to climb the mountain of the Lord, not harming our fellow man, not taking up reproach against our neighbor, walking blamelessly and doing justice.

In all these things, simple acts of kindness and mercy and justice, we can practice the patience that God has for each of us; the patience that Jesus demonstrated for us by his life and by his death; the patience that is the fruit of following the Spirit who guides us and dwells in us.  And with that patience, we find true happiness, true satisfaction, true joy.

Don’t worry.  Be patient.  Be happy.     

From Civility to Holiness

I am eight years old and my mom’s birthday is coming up soon.  I have a dollar or two saved up from my allowance so I ask her what she wants for her birthday.  She says for me just get along with my brothers, stop fighting and arguing with them and she will be happy.  Get along with my brothers!  This is too much.  I’m thinking: why can’t I just do what everyone does and buy something or make something.  Isn’t that good enough?

Of course, that is one of Jesus’ points today (Mt 5:17-37).  Just following the law, doing what everyone else does, isn’t good enough.  It’s good to follow the law, as Jesus says, not the smallest part of a letter will pass from the law and anyone who teaches against the law will be the least in kingdom of heaven – it’s just not good enough.

Without law, society as we know it would be impossible.  We prefer not to live in chaos and anarchy, but they are the only things possible unless society agrees to some set of laws.  Laws are the basis of all civil societies.  Jesus knows that.  But Jesus wants more.  Jesus does not call us to be civil; he calls us to be holy.  Holy cannot be legislated, for holy is in our hearts.  Holy is in our souls.  Holy does not come from Congress or the President or the Supreme Court.  Holy comes from God.

Jesus shows us the difference.  Of course, we should not kill one another, it’s unlawful, and we are subject to judgment.  But anger, calling names, or thinking badly of one another is not against the law, yet it is unholy.  It subjects us to the judgment of God.

One of the most important parts of the Jewish law – perhaps even the most holy part – described the laws of sacrifice, of bringing gifts to the altar of God.  Yet Jesus puts true holiness – reconciling with one another, loving each other as God loves us, forgiving one another as God forgives us – as a necessary prelude to bringing gifts to God.  It is this day-to-day holiness which is our best and truest gift to God.

Of course, holiness is a much higher bar than mere civility and following the law, a concept I understood even as an eight-year old boy wanting to just buy a present for his mom.  Instead, she wanted what Jesus wanted – holiness.  Imagine that, my mom may not have known the Sermon on the Mount by heart, but she certainly knew it in her heart.

Fortunately, while holiness seems hard, that’s an understatement.  It is impossible for us to be holy just by trying hard or just by obeying the law.  But it is very possible to live holy lives with the grace of God, a grace that God showers down on us with abundance. The only way to be holy is accept that grace.  This is faith.  This is the faith that saves us.  This is the faith that helps us realize the holiness, the godliness that is within us.  This is faith that gives us the courage to obey the law.

This is the faith that allows us to meet the challenge that Jesus will lay down for us at the end of Matthew 5 – “So be perfect just as your heavenly Father is perfect.” (Mt 5:48)

Light of the World

Last Sunday, I had the pleasure of baptizing the cutest baby in the whole wide world.  

Okay, I admit that this is a purely subjective opinion, merely the boast of a doting grandfather, for the young girl I baptized, Ava Marie Gordon, is, in fact, my granddaughter.

However, in some mysterious and hard-to-pinpoint way, Ava is blessed with particular combination of features that people perceive as singularly beautiful.  For example, a few months ago, I was waiting in the car for Mary Kate, who is Ava’s mom and my daughter, and Ava to come out of Starbucks.  From the door to the car, Mary Kate was stopped by two separate people marveling at how beautiful Ava was.  Mary Kate told this happens almost regularly – perfect strangers go out of their way to comment on how beautiful Ava is.  In a way, it can be a bit disconcerting.

I’m guessing that Mary and Joseph felt like this as they came into the Temple.  Today, we call this feast The Presentation of the Lord, but there was actually no law that a first-born male child must be presented at the Temple.  There was a consecration of first-born male child, a dedication of this child to God, (Ex 13:1-2), but it did not require an animal sacrifice or presentation at the Temple.  On the other hand, a woman was required to undergo a purification ritual forty days after giving birth to a male child that involved an animal sacrifice to God (Lev 12:1-8).  In Jesus’ day, this sacrifice could only take place at the Temple, hence Mary was the reason for attending the Temple.  Naturally enough, Joseph and the baby Jesus were with her, but they were, according to the law, mere by-standers in this visit.

However, no sooner do they enter the temple, than the small baby becomes the focus of attention.  Simeon and Anna – total strangers to Mary and Joseph – come to praise God for the wonder of this young child!  (Lk 2:25-38)  And what praise they had!  Simeon calls Jesus a light of revelation for the Gentiles and glory for his people, Israel.  From this proclamation, we also call this day Candlemas, a day on which many churches, in a tradition that reaches back over 1500 years, bless the candles that will be used during the coming year.

Light is one of the most common metaphors in the New Testament.  In John’s Gospel, Jesus describes himself as the light of the world (Jn 8:12) and in Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus insists that we, as his disciples, are also to be the light of the world. (Mt 5:14)   In the baptism ritual, each of the newly baptized receives a candle lit from the Easter candle, symbolizing that through baptism, they have been enlightened by Christ.  They are now, like all of the baptized, children of the light (1 Thess 5:5).  They now carry the light that the darkness cannot overcome (Jn 1:5), the light that Simeon proclaimed to Mary and Joseph (Lk 2:32), the light that brings salvation to the world (Acts 13:47).

May this light of Christ burn brightly in Ava Marie Gordon, and may it burn brightly in each of us baptized in his name.

Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.

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.

Follow the Leader

A few years ago, I was speaking with a mom who was considering enrolling her daughter in Kumon, an after-school math and reading program that I run.  I asked her 6-year old daughter what sport or game she liked to play.  I do this to draw a connection between the importance of practice in getting better at a favorite sport with the importance of practice to get better at reading or math.  As frequently happens when speaking with young children, her answer was not exactly what I had planned on.  She said her favorite game was “follow the leader.”  Okay, we’ll go with that.  I asked her whether she preferred being the follower or the leader.  With a large grin, she exclaimed, “leader!”  

Don’t we all?  If I had my druthers, I’d much rather be the leader than the follower.  Yet, I also know that I can only be the leader is a very limited sense.  In reality, I, along with every one of us here, have to follow someone or something.  The real question is not whether I lead or follow, but whom or what will I choose to follow?

Not many people have had better reason to consider themselves as a leader than John the Baptist.  People flocked to him from all over Judea to be baptized by him and to listen to him preach.  Even many of his apparent adversaries recognized and respected his holiness.  Yet he knew he was a follower and he knew exactly who he was to follow:  “Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world… this is God’s chosen one… who ranks ahead of me because he was before me.” (Jn 1:29-34)

Is my own choice that clear?  Have I decided to follow Jesus as unequivocally as John?  On most days, I’m sad to say, the answer is no.  Perhaps, it’s more complicated than that.  How do I even know if I am following Jesus?  What can I do to be a better follower? 

Again, John the Baptist has an answer.  A bit later in John’s gospel, we hear his final testimony to Jesus.  Some of his disciples seem to be complaining to John about Jesus, who seems to be “horning in” on John’s ministry.  John’s reply was simple:  “He must increase, I must decrease.”  (Jn 3:30)

Are my actions, my attitudes, my relationships with others directed to increasing my own stature, my own security, or my own pleasure?   Of course, that pretty much describes how I spend most of my time.  Ouch.  But if I can make just little breaks in that self-seeking, self-centered life, perhaps all is not lost.

For example, the kids at Farmingville Elementary, where Mary teaches kindergarten, save the flip tops from aluminum cans for charity.  Now, being the math nerd that I am, I figured out how many of those flip tops you would have to save to even have a dollar’s worth of recycled aluminum.  It’s a very large number.  One of those tops is worth only a tiny fraction of a penny.   Wouldn’t it make more sense, be more efficient, to just write a check out to the charity than to go to the trouble to remove the top and remember to give it to Mary for the school?

But for me, the act of saving the top is so much more important than the money.  When I take the top off the can, Jesus reminds me that there are others whose needs are much greater needs than my own, others that I must pray for, others I must serve.  And the more times I can break into my self-centered routines and be reminded that my own increase is not important at all, the closer I can be to following Jesus, the Lamb of God, who died to forgive my sins, who loves me with an infinite and unconditional love, who leads me to everlasting life.

He must increase, I must decrease.