Mark 10:45

Category: mercy

  • A Matter of Time

    A Matter of Time

    Saturday of the 29th Week in Ordinary Time

    Ephesians 4:7-16; Luke 13:1-9

    Today’s gospel reading is the only time that Jesus comments on current events. There are many things he might have said about Pilate’s murderous rage against worshipers, or the tragic accident that took eighteen lives in Siloam. But look what he did say: if you do not repent, you will all perish as they did (Luke 13:3,5)! Why?

    Let me answer that question with a question: If you knew that today was your last day, what would you do? Well, Mass is a good start. After that, Confession. Then there are people to talk to: differences to iron out, wrongs to forgive, forgiveness to beg, fences to mend. And there are things you will not do: the internet, the usual line-up of TV or radio shows. In other words, you will make every moment count.

    When we compare that to life as normal, it’s easy to see how much we take time for granted. Confession? Next time; the line is too long. Fixing broken relationships? Some other time; I’m not ready. TV? The internet? Oh, there’s a lot of time to spend on those!

    This is why our Lord said what he did. As time passes and our lives go on, we lose the sense of immediacy in his call, and we risk squandering the grace he gives us in the here-and-now. We can feel his frustration in the parable; all that time and energy spent giving the fig tree everything it needed, and what was the result? It was content to take everything and give nothing in return. No wonder the owner called for its death.

    And that’s why Jesus chose the moment he did. Nothing brings home the importance of lost time more than sudden death. We think of the victims: What wouldn’t they give for just one more day with family and friends! From our own experience, we know that when we mourn the death of someone, we reminisce about the time we spent with them. What seemed like ordinary times then become treasured memories now, and there is no sorrow like that of knowing there were things we might have said to them or done with them that we never found the time for. We have to live with that loss the rest of our lives.

    And that brings us where Jesus really wants us to be: Thinking about our own lives. He knows very well that, when our final moment comes, nothing is going to matter except how we spent the time he gave us. Like the fig tree in the garden, we’ve been given everything we need to grow in every way (Ephesians 4:15): time, grace, the Church, and the virtues, to name a few. The question is, what fruit will he find? How are we building up other people? Are we growing in gifts like wisdom, knowledge, understanding, or piety? Do we see in ourselves the fruits of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22-23)?

    These are what our time is best spent on. From that perspective, how precious those moments in the Confession line, how priceless the time spent mending broken relationships, and how inconsequential all those hours in front of the TV or computer screen.

    Of course, by the mercy of God, today is most likely not our final day, and God does not demand that every second be lived as if it is actually our last. However, he does want us to treat every moment as the gift that it is, to remember that only by the grace of God do we draw our next breath, and that what ultimately matters isn’t how much time we have been given, but what we do with that time.

  • God Moments

    God Moments

    Memorial of St. Thérèse of the Child Jesus, Virgin and Doctor of the Church

    Job 42:1-3, 5-6, 12-17; Luke 10:17-24

    The leader of a small group I once belonged to began each meeting by asking us, “Did you have any ‘God moments’ this week? What did you learn? How did they help you?” I never responded, although his questions did get me to reflect on times when I saw or felt God working in my life.

    If Job or the Apostles attended that small group this week, they would’ve had a lot to say. Job had just encountered God in a very profound way, and the Apostles actually witnessed God healing people through them. But today, on the Feast of St. Thérèse, let us share one of her ‘God moments.’ It was this moment that she said changed her life.

    She was 12, going on 13, when she overheard an innocent but dismissive remark made about her by her tired and irritated father. Although it hurt at first, it caused Thérèse to look at herself and see that for years she had behaved like a spoiled, self-centered child. At the same time, she realized that her father, in imitation of the infinite love of God, had always looked beyond that; to him, she was a beautiful person capable of deep and authentic love.

    This God moment, which Thérèse called “grace emerging from childhood,” was not far from the experience of Job and the Apostles in the readings. In fact, I think all ‘God moments’ share these three aspects: A call by God, a response of repentance and amendment, and the blessings of growth in holiness.

    First, the call. To Job, it might have sounded more like a “wake-up” call. Just moments earlier, God had sternly reminded him who is God and who is not. In the gospel, it was the gentle rebuke of Jesus, reminding the Apostles not to rejoice that evil was conquered, but that their names were written in heaven. For Thérèse, it was her father’s remark, hinting at her self-centeredness. For us, it could be many things: a Scripture verse; a thought from a book we’re reading or talk we heard; something said to us by a friend or relative; a whisper of the Holy Spirit.

    Whatever it is, the call awakens us to the fact that we need to make a change and stick to it. This takes plenty of humility and perseverance. Job had it; he disowned what he said and repented in dust and ashes (Job 42:6). The Apostles had it, too; after receiving the Holy Spirit, they rejoiced that they had been found worthy to suffer dishonor for the sake of the name (Acts 5:41). So did Thérèse; she faced the fact that her father was right, and changed her behavior. That leaves us with the challenge: What is God calling us to own up to and commit to change, and will we do it?

    We all know how hard that is, but the readings show us that good things await those who try. After his repentance, Job was blessed far more than before (Job 42:12); long after the Apostles fled from the Passion, God poured out the Spirit upon them and set them over the whole Church (Matthew 19:28; Acts 4:34-35; 16:4). Thérèse also bears witness; she left her life as a spoiled brat to became one of the greatest saints in recent memory.

    Now we can see how God moments help us. Through them, we come face to face with the deepest parts of ourselves; not just our limitations but also our potential. They are opportunities for conversion, a chance to return, to begin again, to grow more deeply in virtue. They are reminders not just that God is present and acting in the world, but that He acts in us and through us; we are a part of His plan. What an awesome thought, that there are things only we can do, and that God has given us the grace we need to do them! Above all, they are signs of God’s infinite and merciful love for us. As St. Thérèse showed so well, God measures us not by the greatness of our deeds, but by the love with which we do them.

    St. Thérèse, pray for us.

  • Dirt and the Story of Us

    Dirt and the Story of Us

    Saturday of the 24th Week in Ordinary Time

    Luke 8:4-15

    Today, we hear our Lord preach what most people call the parable of the sower, or the sower and the seed. But as you heard, it really isn’t about the sower or the seed; it’s about the dirt. And not just the dirt – it’s about how people are like the dirt. Although it doesn’t sound very appealing, his explanation reveals it as a novel and practical way to help us see not only who we are, but who we are meant to be.

    He begins with the soil on the path. Compacted and difficult to break through, this soil represents the hardened heart of those who refuse to hear the word. This might put us in mind of the scribes and Pharisees, but Jesus is speaking to us, too. Our hearts harden every time we refuse his call in any way, whether it is to forgive, to accept those who disagree with us, or to speak out in the face of evil.

    Then there is the rocky soil – those who believe until faith gets difficult. Again, we may think of the crowds who welcomed Jesus as he entered Jerusalem, or the Apostles during his passion, but what about us? It’s one thing to have faith when times are easy and God feels close, but what happens when times are hard and God feels far away? How easy it is to turn inward and lose heart!

    From there, Jesus speaks of the thorny soil, which represents those who follow for a while, but eventually allow worldly concerns to dominate. This is like the rich man who wanted to follow Jesus, but couldn’t find it in himself to give his money away. But is it also like us? Jesus is asking us to search our hearts, to see if there is something we’re holding onto at all costs, be it a “pet sin,” a worldly concern, or some pleasure that preoccupies us to the point of becoming an idol.

    As we contemplate these categories and evaluate ourselves in light of them, we can see that, although none of them fits us perfectly over the course of our life, some combination probably fits us a little too well over time. In his infinite love and mercy, our Lord never leaves us without hope or encouragement. He uses only one sentence – actually, one part of a sentence – to go beyond the failures and show us success.

    Where the soil on the path is the hardened heart who heard and refused, the rich soil is the heart that has heard the word and embraced it. This is the heart open to forgive, ready to welcome, and daring to speak when silence means sin. Where the rocky soil is the heart turned in on itself, the rich soil is the heart turned outward in goodness and generosity. Where the thorny soil is the heart that abandons Christ, the rich soil is the heart that bears fruit through perseverance (Luke 8:15).

    His final word, perseverance, reminds us that those in the rich soil are like everyone else; they aren’t spared any of the ups and downs of life. What differs is their attitude. Like those on the path, on the rocks, or among thorns, they too know suffering; unlike them, they see it not just as a mystery but as a part of God’s plan that will ultimately bring good. They too know trials and challenges, but not as things simply to be endured; for them, they are opportunities to grow in virtue. Where would prudence be without the ambiguities of life, fortitude without its fears, patience without its irritations, or justice without its unfairness? Perseverance, a gift of the Holy Spirit, is the bridge that brings us from who we are to who we are meant to be.

    Who could look at dirt and see and see the story of us? Only the One who could look at the dust of the earth, breathe His own life and image into it, and then write the story of us. Praised be Jesus Christ, true God and true man.

  • Servant and Seed

    Servant and Seed

    Saturday of the 16th Week in Ordinary Time

    Jeremiah 7:1-11; Matthew 13:24-30

    The parable of the wheat and the weeds may leave us wondering. It certainly baffled the disciples. Next Tuesday we will hear them ask Jesus to explain it and, although he does, he leaves off two things: First, if wheat is always wheat and weeds are always weeds, is repentance even possible? Second, who do the slaves represent? Jesus identifies every other character, but never mentions the slaves. The parable has the answers but we must look more deeply into it to find them, which of course is why Christ told it to begin with.

    As for the wheat and weeds remaining the same, on the surface the parable does say that. But if that was our Lord’s point, it would contradict the first thing he said when he began his ministry: Repent (Matthew 4:17) and if Jesus is anything, he’s consistent. No; repentance isn’t only possible, it is central to the parable. The question is, who repents, and how?

    Enter the servants. Noticing the weeds, they offer to pull them, which seems like a good idea. But the master knows what the servants do not. For one thing, the weed, called darnel, looks a lot like wheat; even today it’s called wheat’s ‘evil twin.’ For another, the weed’s roots intertwine with wheat’s. Thus, by pulling the weeds in their ignorance and haste, the servants would actually cause what they most want to prevent. This is why the master advises the servants to let them grow together (Matthew 13:30).

    We see two things in this. First, it shows God’s love for his children, who he wants to live at all costs. Second, and equally important, it shows his love for his servants, who need to repent, or change their minds, from ignorance to knowledge and impetuousness to patience.

    Being patient doesn’t mean doing nothing; to the contrary, it sharpens their focus. The servants have one job – produce a fruitful harvest – not to judge what is wheat or weed. That will be done by others when God wills and at his direction alone.

    This is where we must take the parable to heart, for Christ is speaking to us. We are the servants. We look at the field – the Church, the world, and ourselves – and see the same thing they saw: wheat and weeds. Perhaps our reaction is like theirs; purge the evil quickly, that the good may thrive. But also like them, we may be ignorant and impetuous. Ask yourself: Have I ever been mistaken in my first impressions of people? Have I ever changed my opinion once I got to know them? Have I ever wanted others to be patient with me, despite the wrong things I have done or said?

    Even if we have made these kinds of mistakes, does that mean that we are never to judge our own actions or those of others and try to correct them? Certainly not; to be silent or impassive in the face of evil is exactly the kind of complacency our Lord condemns in the first reading. Earlier in this same gospel, Jesus urged us to be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect (Matthew 5:48). But that is a perfection in love; therefore, our judgment and proclamation of the truth must be tempered by the same kind of mercy, compassion, and patience that God exalted in the first reading through the prophet Jeremiah, and that Christ himself has so perfectly shown us.

    This is why repentance is central to the parable. The effort we make to do these things, to be perfected in love, is the repentance, the change of mind, that our Master is calling for. It isn’t that we are either servants asked to produce a fruitful harvest or the wheat or weeds growing in the field. The parable teaches us that we are both servant and seed. For both, the watchwords are faithfulness, patience and perseverance; faith that God is working through us even when we cannot see it, patience with our own growth and that of others, and perseverance, that we may overcome every obstacle to become the good seed that makes the finest wheat, in the image of Christ, the Bread of Life.

  • The Perfect Plan

    The Perfect Plan

    Saturday of the 5th Week of Lent

    Ezekiel 37:21-28; Jeremiah 31:10, 11-12abcd, 13; John 11:45-56

    When I was 7, I ran away from home. I figured I had to; Mom was forcing me to do all this horrible stuff: school, chores, Confession every other Saturday. So one day, after she said I was being particularly annoying, I decided now was the time: I’d go to St. Louis and live with my uncle. What a great idea; he lived close to where the Cardinals played baseball, was a lot of fun, and he’d love me hanging out with him every day. Best of all, no chores! So, I went upstairs and got some stuff. I packed light. We lived in Denver, Colorado, and on the map it looked like an easy trip; just walk across Kansas and you’re in St. Louis. So I left, pretty pleased with myself. My plan was perfect.

    Or so I thought. When I got to the highway a police car pulled up. They asked me who I was and where I was going, so I told them. I couldn’t believe it; rather than compliment me on a great plan, they made me get in the squad car. Next thing I knew, we pulled up at home. Mom and Dad were standing there and, judging by their faces, it didn’t look like they were going to be calling my plan perfect, either.

    All this is why I think I understand how Caiaphas felt when he prophesied, It is better for you that one man should die instead of the people, so that the whole nation may not perish (John 11:50). He was probably pretty pleased with himself, too. By the death of this one man, Jesus, he could broker peace among the people, placate Rome, keep a firm grasp on his power, and maybe go down in Jewish history as the high priest who saved Israel from destruction. His plan was perfect.

    Or so he thought. Jesus did die as Caiaphas planned, but everything else went exactly opposite of the way he expected: Jesus rose from the dead, the social unrest grew, the people rebelled against Rome, and in response the Roman army burned Jerusalem and the Temple to the ground. It was not a perfect plan at all.

    The truth is that there is only one perfect plan. We call it providence, or God’s loving plan to guide his creation toward perfection (Catechism of the Catholic Church, §302). We heard some of its key elements in the first reading and the psalm: Israel, gathered together in unity under one shepherd; her people cleansed from their sins, given a new heart and a new spirit; God dwelling with them in his sanctuary forever.

    Although the office of high priest did have the gift of prophesy, Caiaphas could not see beyond his own ambition. From the depths of his own desires, he prophesied the death of Christ as an end in itself, not for what it was: the prelude to the resurrection, through which Christ would fulfill the words of Ezekiel – a new Israel, the Church; a divine Shepherd who washed her clean by the blood of his cross and gave her authority to absolve sins in his Name; who with the Father gave her a new heart by sending the Holy Spirit; and who dwells among his people forever in Word and Sacrament. This was, is, and always will be the perfection of God’s plan.

    Given this, it is especially moving to hear those near the Temple asking, What do you think? That he will not come to the feast (John 11:56)? Of course he will. That is the plan; Jesus is the feast!

    So, as we stand on the threshold of Holy Week, let us take a moment now to thank God for his wonderful providence, most truly shown in the gift of his only Son, our Lord, Jesus Christ. He is our hope, our joy, and our confidence. May his steadfast love for us and his Father, so perfectly on display throughout his passion, remind us that God’s plan is the only plan that matters, and that we are the reason for it. And let us pray that the plans we make for our own lives, however imperfect, are always in union with, and built upon, God’s perfect plan. As God himself has told us so beautifully, For I know well the plans I have in mind for you… plans for your welfare and not for woe, so as to give you a future of hope. When you call me, and come and pray to me, I will listen to you (Jeremiah 29:11-12).

  • The Three Choices

    The Three Choices

    Saturday of the Fourth Week of Lent

    Jeremiah 11:18-20; Psalm 7:9; Luke 8:15; John 7:40-53

    Years ago, the leader of a religious cult said that God told him the world was going to end soon; he even gave the day. When that day came and went, a few members lost their faith and drifted away. However, many did not; their faith grew stronger. When asked why, they replied that God decided to spare the world because of the cult’s prayers.

    Although they went about it in opposite ways, both of these groups were looking for the same thing: Consistency. We like our words and actions to be consistent. When they aren’t, when we say one thing but do another, we have three choices: Change our beliefs, change our behavior, or rationalize our behavior away. It can be hard to change our behavior, especially when it’s a habit; it can be even harder to swallow our pride and admit that our beliefs were wrong. That makes rationalizing a very popular choice.

    We see shades of this in today’s gospel. The chief priests and Pharisees had firm beliefs about who God is, how He works in the world, and who He works through. In their eyes, that did not include Jesus. But the people had begun to see that the actions of Jesus were inconsistent with that; his miraculous signs along with the depth, truth, and beauty of his words were convincing evidence that God was indeed working in and through him. So, the chief priests and Pharisees had to choose: Either change their own beliefs, change the peoples’ behavior, or somehow find a way to rationalize it and save their own pride.

    As the gospel story shows, they weren’t going to change their own beliefs, and they weren’t going to talk the people out of their attraction to our Lord. That left one choice: Rationalize. So that’s exactly what they did; to them, anyone who believed in Jesus was either deceived, ignorant, or ‘from Galilee,’ which was apparently intended as an insult. Ironically, by the end they lost all rationality, ending with an outright untruth: Look and see that no prophet arises from Galilee (John 7:52). If they themselves had looked, they would’ve seen that in fact the prophets Jonah, Hosea, and Nahum were all from Galilee!

    But we can’t focus on these men without looking in the mirror, for we all share the great inconsistency of sin. Our faith tells us that something is sinful; we do it anyway; we feel guilty. To rid ourselves of the guilt, we too must choose one of the three options mentioned before. Let’s take the worst one first: Changing our beliefs to suit our sinful behavior. Sadly, many of us know people who have done just that – left the faith rather than give up a sinful life. Let us pray that their hearts may soften, and that we never give in to the temptation to abandon the faith. Second, we can rationalize, as the priests and Pharisees did. This is a great temptation because, to paraphrase St. Jean Vianney, it’s so much easier to excuse ourselves than to accuse ourselves. That is exactly what we do every time we say things like, “I shouldn’t have gotten angry, but you made me so mad,” or “It’s just a little white lie,” or “I know I shouldn’t have texted while driving but it was an emergency.” These may seem like no big deal, but they lead to bigger problems; we dull our sense of sin and open ourselves to another: The sin of presumption, which says, “Go on, do it! God will forgive you later.”

    How far these selfish choices are from the generous heart spoken of in the Gospel Acclamation, that keeps the word and yields a harvest through perseverance (Luke 8:15), the innocent heart that prays for justice (Psalm 7:9), the heart that is completely open to God, who Jeremiah called the searcher of mind and heart (11:20). Only such a heart can make that most difficult choice: To change our behavior, so that it is in keeping with our faith. This takes perseverance, for our sins can be habits that are hard to break; it takes love of justice, for we have wounded our neighbor and our innocent Lord and must make amends; and it takes total openness to God, who knows our mind and heart infinitely better than we do.

    Let us pray that our merciful Lord will grant us such a heart, that we may have the humility to see ourselves as we are, to admit when we have sinned, and to seek the absolution that He alone can give. Only by His grace can we be most truly consistent.

  • Of Prophets and Prophecy: The 6th Day of Christmas

    Of Prophets and Prophecy: The 6th Day of Christmas

    1 John 2:12-17; Luke 2:36-40

    When we hear the word “prophet,” we may think of men like Isaiah, Jeremiah, or Ezekiel, and “prophecy” as the word of God given to them concerning things that would happen in times to come. If so, Anna in today’s gospel is a good reminder that we have more thinking to do.

    First, she reminds us that prophets aren’t always men. Indeed, Anna is the first woman referred to in the New Testament as a prophet, but other women follow, namely Philip’s daughters (Acts 21:9) and the women of Acts 2:17-18 and 1 Corinthians 11:4-5. What’s more, she follows in the line of Old Testament prophetesses: Miriam, the sister of Moses and Aaron, Deborah, Huldah, and the mysterious woman in Isaiah (8:3), to name a few.

    These prophetesses, Anna included, also remind us that prophecy isn’t limited to oracles of future events. Miriam is noted for leading a beautiful song of thanksgiving for God’s deliverance of his people (Exodus 15:20), Deborah as one of the great Judges of Israel (Judges 4:4), and Huldah as the wise counselor who king Josiah relied on (2 Kings 22:14-20). Similarly, Anna speaks not of the future but of the here and now, giving thanks and proclaiming God’s long-awaited redemption.

    The Jewish scholar Abraham Heschel once said that the greatness of a prophet “lies not only in the ideas he expressed, but also in the moments he experienced. The prophet is a witness, and his words a testimony – to God’s power, to His justice and mercy.”1 What more sublime moment could any prophet experience than Anna’s encounter with the infant Christ? She, in whom the word of God remained (1 John 2:14) now gazed upon that Living Word; she who had long ago forsaken the world for love of the Father (1 John 2:15) now looked on Him who would offer the world His infinite love and mercy; and she who night and day devoted herself to the will of God (1 John 2:17) now adored Him who would see that same will done, to the Cross and far beyond.

    We don’t have Anna’s words; Luke says only that she gave thanks to God and spoke about the child to all who were awaiting the redemption of Jerusalem (2:38). But this is all we need to know, for as Heschel also said, “In speaking, the prophet reveals God. This is the marvel of the prophet’s work; in his words, the invisible God becomes audible. He does not prove or argue. The thought he has to convey is more than language can contain. Divine power bursts in the words.”2 Whatever Anna said on that glorious day in the Temple or any day thereafter, divine power burst from her words; nothing she said could contain the God-Man revealed to her. Still, her job was not to prove or argue; it was to reveal God to those who had not seen; to make Him audible and by so doing reach their hearts with His, in hopes of making them burn as hers surely must have.

    This is our task as well. By our baptism we too are anointed priest, prophet, and king and by His gift of the Holy Eucharist we have him here with us as surely as Anna did in the Temple. So, let us do as she did: Old or young, widowed or not, at every Mass let us come forward, receive him, give thanks to him, and then speak about him to all. Even after two thousand years, we have no better words than Anna did; nevertheless, we have all we need. We too have the testimony of our lives. We must make them speak.

    St. Anna the Prophetess, pray for us.

    1Abraham J. Heschel. The Prophets. New York: HarperCollins Publishers, p 27.

    2Ibid.

  • Minute Meditation: Thank God

    1 Thessalonians 1:1-5, 8b-10

    In the first reading today, St. Paul says,

    We give thanks to God always for all of you,
    remembering you in our prayers,
    unceasingly calling to mind your work of faith and labor of love
    and endurance in hope of our Lord Jesus Christ,
    before our God and Father,
    knowing, brothers and sisters loved by God, how you were chosen.
    For our Gospel did not come to you in word alone,
    but also in power and in the Holy Spirit and with much conviction.

    I don’t. Thank God, I mean. At least, not enough.

    I know the ACTS of prayer – Adoration, Contrition, Thanksgiving, and Supplication – but tend to get stuck on the letter “S,” asking God for things. Of course I need to ask, but if that’s all I do then I risk treating God as little more than a divine vending machine. I also want to show God that I adore him, am sincerely sorry for my sins, and am grateful for all he has given.

    Which is where you come in. For as St. Paul reminded me this morning, God has given me you: People practicing the faith in your daily life, working to love all you meet, and enduring in great hope of the promises of Jesus Christ. I do thank God for you.

    But I can’t properly do that unless I also thank God for how you were chosen. Being self-centered and self-conscious, I get in the habit of behaving as if it all depends on me, that I must be eloquent enough, loving enough, patient enough. Those things are important but your faith doesn’t depend on them. No; as St. Paul reminded us, the Gospel comes to us not in word alone, but also in power and in the Holy Spirit and with much conviction. There is a power to the process far beyond any of us, working in ways we cannot understand, reaching us in depths no human being can go, touching and moving us in ways that nothing and no one else can.

    If that’s not worthy of thanksgiving, then what is?

  • The Paradox of Love: Friday of the 19th Week in Ordinary Time

    Joshua 24:1-13; Psalm 136:1; Matthew 19:3-12

    Today’s readings remind me of that famous scene in the musical Fiddler on the Roof when Tevye asks Golde, his wife of 25 years, do you love me? She replies, “Do I love you? For 25 years I’ve washed your clothes, cooked your meals, cleaned your house, given you children, milked the cow, after 25 years, why talk about love right now?” He repeats, do you love me? “I’m your wife.” I know… But do you love me? She thinks out loud, “Do I love him? For 25 years I’ve lived with him, fought him, starved with him, 25 years my bed is his, if that’s not love, what is?” Then you love me? Finally, she replies, “I suppose I do…”

    Why does this scene remind me of the readings? Because today Scripture focuses on what love is in its essence, and that scene highlights three key aspects of it.

    First, love is a verb. We love not in what we say but in what we do. Through Joshua, God speaks to people who, from the time of Abraham, through the oppression in Egypt, the fleeing, struggling, and starving in the desert, might well have asked, “God, do you love us?” Today we hear God reply: “Do I love you? Remember all the things I’ve done for you, and look what lies before you: You’ve made it to the Promised Land!”

    That reply echoes through the ages to today, to every one of us. We each have our own struggles, physical and spiritual. Through all of them, God isn’t sitting silently in the background; he is in every moment, working in ways beyond our understanding. His work may be unknown to us this moment, this month, or this year, but like the Promised Land, its fruit lies waiting. We must never mistake silence for inaction or indifference; God is eternally vigilant, eternally loving, always acting for our good.

    This brings up the second point: Love is timeless. How fitting that we hear Psalm 136 today, especially the antiphon, His mercy endures forever. The Hebrew word translated as “mercy” is hesed, which includes mercy but implies action, things we do when we are motivated by love and loyalty to someone else. In the scene from Fiddler on the Roof, remember that Golde replied, “After 25 years, why talk about love right now?” To her, the amount of time was not the point; she had committed her life to her marriage.

    Jesus speaks of this kind of commitment in the gospel when he quotes the passage from Genesis that a man is joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh (Genesis 2:24). Again to go back to the ancient language, the word for “joined” literally means, “glued.” Imagine gluing two pieces of paper, allowing them to dry, then trying to tear them apart. We know what will happen; the kind of pain and suffering that only such tearing can bring.

    This leads us to a third aspect of love, which in the words of venerable Fulton Sheen is that love is the soul of sacrifice. Recall how Golde replied when Tevye asked if she loved him: all the sacrifices she had made, the things she had endured, for him. But not just for him, for herself as well. Only those willing to make the greatest sacrifice for love’s sake can know the deepest joys that love brings. When it comes to love, joy and sacrifice can never be separated; in married life, in ministry, in whatever kind of service we are called, only those who are most fully open, who risk the greatest vulnerability, can know the deepest, most fulfilling joy: to know and to be known, to accept and be accepted; to love and to be loved.

    As in all things, the best model for all these aspects of love is our Lord, Jesus Christ. Who performed greater works of love than he? Whose love is more timeless? Who is the soul of sacrifice more than he who was willing to empty himself into his own creation to show us that those who risk the ultimate sacrifice of themselves are given the ultimate joy of resurrection to eternal life? Only Christ could most perfectly show us all this, the great paradox of love: that giving is receiving; that most fully knowing means to be most fully known; and that only by dying to ourselves can we reach the promised land of eternal life.

  • To Seek, To Find, To Give, To Possess: Wednesday of the 17th Week in Ordinary Time

    Exodus 34:29-35; Matthew 13:44-46

    The French mathematician and philosopher Blaise Pascal, a Catholic, once said that he would have written a shorter letter but didn’t have time. Anyone who has tried to say exactly what they want to say in as few words as possible knows how hard that is.

    Our Lord is certainly a master of it. In two sentences he gives us a wonderfully deep insight into the spiritual life. The idea is simple; hidden treasure is found, the finder sells everything and buys the field. But there are really four things: Seeking, finding, giving up, and owning. God does them, we do them, and the result is what Israel saw with Moses in the first reading; when we are touched by God, our very being changes.

    First, seeking. In the parables, a man finds a treasure. Who is the seeker, man or God? Before answering, consider: the treasure had to be hidden first or there would have been nothing to find. The reality is that God is not hidden; he has written his image into us and around us all creation proclaims his glory. Yet as St. Augustine once said, “You were with me and I was not with you; created things kept me far from you.” Sinfulness keeps us from seeing him; we feel the emptiness, the hunger, but look to worldly things to fill it, only to find that everything the world has to offer leaves us as empty and unfulfilled as we were before. Still, God is faithful and always ready; when we turn to him with our whole heart and soul to do what is right before him (Tobit 13:6), he comes and finds us.

    No wonder the man in the parable was filled with joy! I see that kind of emotion often in people who are new to or returning to the faith; they are so happy to have finally found what their hearts had been searching for. There is great joy knowing that God is near, has our good in mind, and loves us. But we should remember too, as Scripture reminds us, of God’s joy, for he first loved us (1 John 4:19) and greatly rejoices when one is found who had gone astray (Zephaniah 3:17; Luke 15:7,10).

    Of course, joy and good feelings aren’t enough. In any relationship built on genuine love more is asked, and when that comes to the greatest of all, our relationship with God, the greatest is asked. Jesus made it a point in the parables to say that the men who found the treasure didn’t give up part of their wealth to obtain it; they gave up everything they had. As with both seeking and finding, God has given up everything first. Anyone who doubts that need only look at a crucifix. But to quote St. Augustine again, God made us without us but will not save us without us. The questions for us today are: What are we willing to give up? What stands between us and complete devotion to doing God’s will?

    Finally, possession of the treasure. For our Heavenly Father, this flows from the greatest sign of his infinite love for us – the passion and death of his only Son. As St. Paul said, you are not your own… you have been purchased at a price (1 Corinthians 6:19-20). As for us, note that the man in the first parable buried the treasure and bought the field. Why do that? In those days, owning the land meant that you owned anything that was found on it or in it; he could not claim the treasure until he claimed the land it was found on. For us, the land is our faith. When we have the faith, we possess the kingdom whole and entire; what our gospel acclamation said: all that the Father has told us (John 15:15).

    In the first reading, Moses became radiant in the presence of God and while proclaiming his word to Israel. This was the same the man who once made excuses to God to avoid being sent by him to do anything, let alone proclaim his word. But then, it wasn’t the same man; he had allowed God to work within him and through him, to “possess” him if you will, to so transform him that he became the man God called him from all eternity to be. When we are touched by God, we too should show it, and that is the other question we have to ask ourselves today: Can anyone tell that we are Christians, not by our being here, not by our rosaries or prayer books, but by the way we live our lives? Can anyone tell that we have sought God, and that he has found us?