Matthew Williams – Page 18 – Meditation on Daily Mass Readings

January 8, 2021January 1, 2021

The Meaning of Life

This is a reflection on the Mass readings of the day.

St. John’s writing style, as exemplified in today’s first reading, displays an enchanting mix of great simplicity and poetic depth.

Take, for example, the reference to the water and the blood. Jesus has come through the water and the blood, and these bear witness to Him. This same John himself bore witness, in His gospel, to the water and the blood flowing from Jesus’ side, when it was opened with a lance after He died. In his gospel, John gave great importance to this, signaling it as the outpouring of His salvation to humankind.

But reflecting on today’s first reading, we may think that John is being a bit presumptuous when He points to God Himself as testifier on behalf of Jesus as His Son. When did John hear with His own ears God’s testimony? Sounds like he’s making an interpretative jump here…

But let us not forget. John did hear God the Father’s testimony, directly, audibly. He was one of the three disciples present at the Transfiguration, when a cloud overshadowed them and he heard a voice from the cloud say, “This is my beloved Son. Listen to him.” (Mk. 9:7)

He may or may not have been present at Jesus’ baptism, listening to John the Baptist’s preaching, when a voice came from the heavens and said, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.” It is speculated that he was, because he is thought likely to be the second, unnamed disciple of the Baptist mentioned in his own gospel who follows Jesus immediately afterward (cf. Jn. 1:35ff). Either way, he certainly knew of the event.

It is marvelous to think that this author of the first letter of John, written in such an unassuming yet profound style, actually heard the voice of God the Father testifying to His Son.

John tells us that he who possesses the Son possesses life. Here, in a way, the divide between earthly and eternal life blurs, just a little. Life for us is possession of the Son, here, as well as there. While we suffer here, and we will not there, this distinction starts to take second place as we begin, even here, to experience the joy of life in the Son.

The teachings of the Catholic Church about the possibility of salvation for those who do not know the Church, or indeed do not know Christ at all, seem to soften John’s statement. A recent embodiment of this teaching, from the Vatican II document Lumen Gentium: “Since salvation is offered to all, it must be made concretely available to all. But it is clear that today, as in the past, many people do not have an opportunity to come to know or accept the gospel revelation or to enter the Church. . . . For such people, salvation in Christ is accessible by virtue of a grace which, while having a mysterious relationship to the Church, does not make them formally part of the Church, but enlightens them in a way which is accommodated to their spiritual and material situation. This grace comes from Christ; it is the result of his sacrifice and is communicated by the Holy Spirit. It enables each person to attain salvation through his or her free cooperation.” (LG no. 16)

But this teaching, while it should cause rejoicing at God’s glorious mercy and desire for the salvation of every human, does not weaken John’s statement at all. There is, yes, the possibility for God, in His mercy, applying the infinite grace won by His Son on the cross, to grant the life of which John speaks, which is possession of the Son, at death to those who have lived a life striving unequivocally to understand the truth about God and to live by it, but have not known Christ.

But let us not be presumptuous of this mercy. The saints unanimously teach that, even among Christians, who are pampered by God with all the grace available through the sacraments and reflection on the Gospel to perfect their choice for Jesus, there are many who do not attain salvation due to the mediocrity of their choice for God. We must be deeply concerned for those in our secular world who, aware of the Gospel, reject a life in Christ casually and out of hand due to their unwillingness to conform their hearts and lives to a demanding ideal. And as for those who have never heard of Christ: If so many Christians, with the aid of so much grace, fail to hit the mark, how are those in practice without these aids and without clear doctrine to make the choice for the divine ideal? We must not presume on some extraordinary grace for these persons that exceeds the ordinary grace provided by the sacraments, Christian doctrine, and Scripture.

So, we must preach the Gospel.

All of this is very dramatic. But let us also remember, to anyone who approaches Jesus, even tentatively, He rushes with His divine aid to firm up their hearts, their resolve, their intent. Aside from the dialogue with the repentant thief on the cross, perhaps the most moving example of this is found right in today’s Gospel passage, in the exchange with the leper: “‘Lord, if you wish, you can make me clean.’ Jesus stretched out his hand, touched him, and said, ‘I do will it. Be made clean.'”

If He wills it, Jesus can purify our hearts. And He does will it.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: We cannot escape from a dramatic but beautiful reality, namely, that Jesus calls us to a radical transformation through the adoption of a new mode of life, that can only be found in Him, in the Son–but that this transformation leads to unimaginable happiness. As St. John points out in his first letter, God the Father Himself bears succinct but unambiguous testimony to this. Let us approach Jesus today like the leper, and ask Him to cleanse our hearts, to purify them so that He can fully infuse them with His life. And let us pray with all the passion of our hearts for those who do not know Him.

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January 7, 2021December 30, 2020

The One

This is a reflection on the Mass readings of the day.

We see today’s psalm fulfilled in today’s gospel: “O God, with your judgment endow the king, and with your justice, the king’s son; he shall govern your people with justice and your afflicted ones with judgment.”

In the gospel, we see Jesus taking his seat as Teacher in the synagogue almost like a throne, heir of David that He is. It would seem that there is more going on here than a wise man sitting down to proffer some enlightened explanations. When saying “Today this Scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing,” Jesus reveals Himself unequivocally as the Anointed One.

Between this regal scene and the first reading from the first letter of John, there is a delightful interplay. In a sort of contrast with Jesus’ solemnity, John’s assertions are eminently simple. To be in union with God, we must love Him, keep His Commandments, love our neighbor, and believe that Jesus is the Christ–that is, believe the assertions of Jesus in today’s gospel.

Maybe the more sophisticated among us could lament John’s simplicity. Why doesn’t he tackle for us some of the more complex, nuanced realities in life? Is he a hopeless naïf, who lives oblivious to the complicated spiderweb that life weaves around us?

When we study the lives of St. John and many of the other saints, we realize that it not naivete that leads to their beautiful and enviable simplicity. Rather, having considered all the complexities of life, they realize that “there is need of only one thing” (Lk. 10:42), and that when they seek the Kingdom of God, all these things will be given them besides (cf. Mt. 6:33). In a word, they simply don’t care as much about life’s worries and dangers, because they realize that these fall under the loving care of God’s Providence.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Ask Jesus to help you understand how only one thing truly matters: your relationship with Him. If you are unable to fathom a life without constant fretting over all you cannot control, ask Him to infuse trust into you. Ask Him to help you by the supernatural gifts of His Holy Spirit to place each thing in its proper place in your heart, and to help you to focus on the only thing of which there is need: Union with the great King who proclaims His anointing in today’s gospel.

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January 6, 2021December 30, 2020

Strength Against Fear

This is a reflection on the Mass readings of the day.

“There is no fear in love.”

This simple line from today’s first reading at first seems like a nice, pious thought–but then, we realize it sets before us an apparently unachievable goal. One of today’s most common names for fear is anxiety–and which of us does not feel anxiety? Must we somehow immunize ourselves against what can often be a daily, involuntary emotion in order to achieve love?

What if we were in a small boat on violent waves, like the disciples in today’s gospel? Could anyone blame us for feeling a bit panicky? Yet, Jesus says, “Take courage, it is I, do not be afraid!”

Two considerations may be helpful here. First of all, there is a chasm of difference between the sensation and emotion of anxiety, and living by anxiety. True, for those of us habituated to allowing anxiety to lead us as a rule, they can be one and the same. But if we look at the lives of the saints, we see that sometimes they feel fear, but they do not allow it to direct their judgement and their decisions. And neither should we, since we have given our lives to God and trust in His Providence to rule and guide us.

Our Lady is our best example, next to Christ Himself, of how to handle the sentiment of anxiety. When the angel Gabriel came to visit her at the Annunciation, she felt deeply troubled. She could not immediately understand the implications of what the angel was asking of her, even though she tried–and this left her disconcerted. From the description in the Gospel, it is safe to say that she was experiencing anxiety.

But Mary did not allow this sentiment to rule her–rather, she based her judgement and decisions on faith and trust in God. She explicitly went back to the root of her identity in the midst of her disorientation, stating, “I am the handmaid of the Lord.” And as such she was able to fulfill the will of the Father: “May it be done unto me according to your word.”

Contrast this mode of reacting to Gabriel’s message with that of Zechariah, the father of John the Baptist, in Lk. 1:5-25–narrated in the Gospel immediately before Mary’s encounter with the angel. Zechariah essentially says, “Why should I believe you?” His anxiety leads him to seek a sure footing before he is willing to accept God’s message in faith. At this moment, Zechariah was a man who let himself be led by his anxiety. Gabriel didn’t seem to take kindly to it: “I am Gabriel, who stand before God. I was sent to speak to you and to announce to you this good news. But now you will be speechless and unable to talk until the day these things take place, because you did not believe my words, which will be fulfilled at their proper time.”

The second consideration: When we habitually form our judgement independently from our feelings of anxiety (and sometimes this means waiting until a strong feeling of anxiety subsides), very gradually, over a long period of time, the feelings themselves lessen in strength, no longer rushing in so aggressively. They are almost like a bully who, realizing he is not getting any fun out of a particular victim, begins to leave the victim alone.

Feelings of anxiety never fully leave us. Consider even Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane: Sweating blood, so overwrought was He by the stress caused by the burden of our sin loaded upon Him, and the prospect of His impending death. But again, like Mary, He decided independently of that anxiety: “My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; yet, not as I will, but as you will.”

When it comes to our judgements and our decisions, what St. John tells us stands: “There is no fear in love.”

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Ask Jesus to help you remain in control of the impulses of your passions and emotions. Ask Him for the supernatural gift of trust, whereby your certainty of His loving, providential care governs all your decisions.

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January 5, 2021December 29, 2020

Overflow

This is a reflection on the Mass readings of the day.

In today’s first reading, St. John tells us that “God sent his only-begotten Son into the world so that we might have life through him.”

Perhaps sometimes we think of this life that Jesus brings as a simple static state; we were dead, now we are alive.

But in today’s gospel, we see a symbol of the sort of life Jesus brings. It is not a one-time flick of a switch. It is a constant, super-abundant outpouring onto us of His love, His grace, and happiness.

So it was that Jesus, who had brought life to the people in today’s gospel through His rich teaching, went on to pour out upon them essentially infinite sustenance for their bodies as well, in the form of a limitless distribution of bread and fish.

And His promise to us: “Give and gifts will be given to you; a good measure, packed together, shaken down, and overflowing, will be poured into your lap.”

Per the unanimous agreement of the saints who have experienced intimate dialogue with Jesus, nothing is more frustrating to Him than our habit of putting artificial limits on the richness of the life He brings, through our lack of trust.

In our prayer life, we should be daring with the grace of sanctity and happiness that we ask of Him, both for ourselves and for our loved ones.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Ask Jesus to make His dreams for you, not yours, come true. Tell Him that you want no limits to the gifts He gives you. In spite of all the disappointing realities, and suffering, and insufficiencies in the world, tell Him that you trust Him to fill your life with good things, to overflowing.

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January 4, 2021December 29, 2020

The Fount of All Grace

This is a reflection on the Mass readings of the day.

In today’s reading from the first letter of John, we learn a fundamental criterion for discernment between spirits that are of God vs. those that are not: The acknowledgement of Jesus Christ come in the flesh.

This reminds us of a similar reading from the same author, the Gospel reading from Christmas day: “He came to what was his own, but his own people did not accept him. But to those who did accept him he gave power to become children of God, to those who believe in his name, who were born not by natural generation nor by human choice nor by a man’s decision but of God.” (Jn. 1:11-13)

Also, in the eleventh chapter of the Gospel of John, Jesus Himself says, “I am the resurrection and the life; whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.” (Jn. 11:25-26)

From these passages we may infer a clear truth: That faith in Jesus Christ, the Son of God, God Himself who has taken on flesh, is the criterion for salvation.

This may sound like a Protestant concept. It is not. It is a Scriptural concept, a Christian concept, and a true concept.

Indeed, within the Church, individuals and groups of people have fallen into the error of overemphasizing the moral aspects of the Christian life to the point essentially of believing that salvation comes from following certain rules. Saints, then, are those who follow these rules to a more perfect degree.

Whereas in truth, the perennial teaching of the Church is that Jesus alone saves; nothing that we do contributes substantially to our salvation, except to accept: To say “yes” to this merciful Savior.

True, as St. James tells us, “So also faith of itself, if it does not have works, is dead.” Faith without works is dead. This does not mean, however, that a half-and-half formula of faith and works is the necessary recipe for salvation. Rather, as St. James goes onto explain, faith in Jesus is made manifest in our works. If it is not, then we do not have a living faith, but a dead and sterile one.

Said differently, part of the way we say “yes” to Jesus and His utterly sufficient and necessary saving grace is by saying “yes” over and over to His way in the little things of every day life. Indeed, he who sins says “no” and by his very act of sin rejects that grace. “Yes” is not a word; it is a lifestyle, a life.

So it is that Jesus Himself tells us, “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven.” (Mt. 7:21)

This is the formula that Jesus applies, not only to our happiness, but to His own as well; He shows us the way: “The one who sent me is with me. He has not left me alone, because I always do what is pleasing to him.” (Jn. 8:29)

Still, it would be a mistake to think of our lives as a set of individual, disjointed events, where in each event we start over and have an equal chance of saying “yes” or “no” to God. If we have a daily, Scriptural, contemplative prayer life, then in our prayer, we say “yes” to Him with all our hearts and give ourselves to Him. He, in turn, inflames our hearts with love for Him and a desire for union with Him. (Sometimes we sense this love and feel the burning flame; sometimes we do not. But regardless, if we pray, He is there to deepen and strengthen our desire.) It is this flame, this desire, that then manifests itself throughout each day in our many small “yeses.”

Thus, the life of the Christian in grace simply becomes a love story; of God constantly offering His infinite grace to us, of us saying “yes,” and of Him pouring out His grace of strength and love into our hearts to aid us in our constancy and fidelity.

To the Christian life, the same words may be applied as those applied to Zebulun and Naphtali in today’s Gospel passage: “Land of Zebulun and land of Naphtali, the way to the sea, beyond the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles, the people who sit in darkness have seen a great light, on those dwelling in a land overshadowed by death light has arisen.”

Jesus Christ is that light; He is all we need.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Tell Jesus that you want to remain in His grace today and forever; tell Him that, whatever the sacrifices implied, your answer to Him is “yes.” Tell Him that you want the manifestation of that “yes” to be molded by His Holy Spirit in your life, not by your pride. Ask Him never to let you be parted from Him, no matter what the cost.

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January 3, 2021December 28, 2020

Hey Wait, I Thought…

This is a reflection on the Mass readings of the day.

Sometimes, somewhat enlightened by the perspective of history, we scoff at the disciples of Jesus for expecting Him to take over as an earthly ruler; even immediately prior to His Ascension back into Heaven, after all He had been through, they still asked Him if the time of Israel’s earthly restoration had come (cf. Acts 1:6).

But if we look at the Old Testament prophecies from the perspective that they had, their persistent emphasis on the earthly kingdom of Israel does not appear so outlandish. The prophecy of the definitive rule of a descendant of David is a persistent theme in Scripture. How were the disciples to know that the literal return of the Kingdom of Israel would not occur with the coming of the Messiah?

Today’s first reading is another example. One almost imagines this prophecy and its fulfillment as fruit of a sense of humor on God’s part. The prophecy speaks of Jerusalem drawing rulers from afar and receiving rich gifts from them. How would anyone reading the prophecy imagine that the three rulers to come would arrive quietly and leave in secret, and that their gifts wouldn’t be showered upon the literal city of Jerusalem, but presented to its infant heavenly King in the humblest of stables?

We may feel smug, imagining that while the disciples were clueless, we have been clued in. We understand that there is some metaphor in the prophecies that foreshadow Jesus, even while He fulfills them marvelously, profoundly.

But are we so fully read in on the history of salvation? What about our own lives? Sure, we have a sense of the importance of our vocations, as the disciples ultimately did, but do we fully understand how and when the story ends? And what about the relevance of each day of our own lives to the bigger picture? Do we have a handle on that? And, aren’t we too guilty of taking an overly earthly viewpoint of things, at times–jubilant when our political candidate wins, seeing it as some sort of divine sign, and becoming utterly deflated when our candidate loses?

The truth is, we have gained beautiful insights through Revelation about the mission of Jesus and of the Church. Still, when it comes to our own lives, we walk in the chiaroscuro of faith and trust, just like the disciples, just like Our Lady (who did so most elegantly).

If the disciples ultimately just needed to place their trust in the person of Christ, without full understanding, then so do we.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Ask Jesus to help you respond to the mysteries of your Christian life with humble trusting faith. Read Mary’s Magnificat proclaimed to Elizabeth in Luke 1, and examine with her if you rejoice with such confident gratitude, in the midst of the many uncertainties your life holds (as hers did). Ask Jesus to help your trust to be focused on His Person, rather than your understanding of the ins and outs of His plan.

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January 2, 2021December 28, 2020

Opening Doors

This is a reflection on the Mass readings of the day.

As we approach the celebration of the Epiphany, which in addition to the arrival of the Magi, also commemorates the revelation of the Incarnate Word to all nations, we see in our readings references to that revelation–and also, even its earliest manifestations, resistance to it on the part of the world. As we heard in the Gospel at Christmas Midnight Mass, “He came to what was his own, but his own people did not accept him.”

Even before Jesus Christ was on their radar, the Pharisees were already questioning and doubting His great herald, John the Baptist, as we see in today’s gospel.

And in today’s first reading from the First Letter of John, we hear the apostle speak of those who reject Christ, and He admonishes them: “Who is the liar? Whoever denies that Jesus is the Christ. Whoever denies the Father and the Son, this is the antichrist. Anyone who denies the Son does not have the Father.”

Many of the people we deal with day to day are pleasant and friendly, and our superficial dealings with them are agreeable and uneventful. So, sometimes we forget that this drama is the one that plays out in every human heart: Jesus Christ reveals Himself, sometimes clearly, sometimes in a manner that is blurred by human sin, and each person decides to accept or reject Him. And many, even many persons we might consider otherwise pleasant, choose to reject Him. To the extent that this choice becomes permanent, they reject their eternal happiness. For, “Anyone who denies the Son does not have the Father.”

Thankfully, in the midst of this often tragic dichotomy wherein Jesus comes “to what is His own, but His own people do not accept Him,” we have a role to play, to help make things better.

When we sincerely and consistently offer ourselves to Jesus every day in our time of prayer and through the fulfillment of our daily duty, and ask Him to leverage that offering for the welfare of those who do not know Him or reject Him, it gives Him “license” to push into hearts a little harder without transgressing human freedom. The gift of our freedom to Him opens doors to hearts whose freedom alone may be too weak to open those doors. Thus, we are cooperators in salvation, and every day of our lives has profound meaning.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Consider with Jesus the example of Mary, whose gift of self at the Annunciation, at the Cross, and every day in between augmented the reach of His infinite merits by standing in for weak human freedom. Ask Jesus to make you “part of Mary’s team” in assisting Him, through your gift of self each day.

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January 1, 2021December 28, 2020

Θεοτόκος, the God-Bearer

This is a reflection on the Mass readings of the day.

The first reading and the Psalm today talk about God blessing His people. What a perfect theme for the feast of Mary, the Mother of God–for in the creation and sanctification of this model woman, God blessed His people indeed.

If we look at the core of many the heresies in the Church–for example, the great early heresies of Arianism and Nestorianism, in the face of which this title for Mary was proclaimed, and then the great Protestant heresies concerning salvation–we find an interesting theme.

Perhaps surprisingly, the theme is not one of trivializing sin, or one of disobedience to God/resistance to following key elements of His will. Quite the contrary. The theme is one of resisting the notion that God, in His redemptive act, can and wants to sanctify us profoundly, to the core, and exalt us to substantive participation in the divine nature.

God’s plan for us is literally so glorious that we find it too good to be true.

The early heresy Arianism’s brand of dumbing down God’s plan to create profound union between God and man was to deny this union first and foremost in Christ Himself, denying that Christ was truly God. Arius, the primary proponent of the heresy, found the notion of God Incarnate simply too much to fit in His brain. (Understandably, for truly it is too much to fit in any brain.)

The title of Theotokos or Mother of God was proclaimed in response to Nestorianism, which held essentially that the divine and human cannot mix–that Christ was basically two entities, divine and human, rather than being a single Person with two natures combined in Himself.

And so, like all things with Mary, proclamations in reference to her are directly targeted at glorifying a reality about her Son–in this case, the reality that the baby she carried within her was in fact God Himself, the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity.

The soteriology (salvation theology) of the key proponents of the Protestant Reformation essentially held that God does not sanctify us to the core; rather, He leaves us corrupt, but when He sees His Son in the flesh, He is so pleased with Him that He provides salvation to those who believe in Him.

The most exciting reality in our Christian life paradoxically has also been the most difficult for theologians to bear: That, in saving and sanctifying us, God fully purifies our nature and exalts us through intimate union with Himself to heights that we cannot even imagine, bvy means of the true, real, profound union of human and divine natures in His Son.

Theologians’ difficulty with this reality give evidence of the profoundly palpable damage that original sin and our own sin have wrought on our human psyche. The depths of the fall are such that we find it very hard to imagine being fully lifted from them.

But we must remember: No matter how close we come to God in this life, until we reach our eternal destiny, we are part of a broken world that–while not preventing God’s sanctifying action–affects us to the core of our psychology. Only faith and trust in His promise can lead us to judgements free of that false and temporary downward pull, and can lead us to taste, even here, the freedom of the Sons of God.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Chat with Mary about the great things He did in her life, by calling her to be Mother of God and herself to be exalted in glory and sanctification that her earthly self could never have imagined. Ask her to give you the same simplicity of faith that she had–not one that needs to understand the “how” of God’s promise in order to trust in it fully.

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December 31, 2020December 24, 2020

Planning for Rejection

This is a reflection on the Mass readings of the day.

Today’s gospel could provide the basis for infinite meditation, because it eloquently lays out the entire context of the Incarnation of God, including His reception within the world. Little need be said; savoring this passage, line by line, is sufficient reflection in itself.

There is pathos contained in these lines. “He was in the world, and the world came to be through him, but the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, but his own people did not accept him.”

The Word of God, prior to taking flesh, knew full well that He was coming into a world that would reject Him. A world that would be full, to borrow from today’s first reading, of antichrists that shun the invitation of Jesus.

The attitude of the world in its rejection of Christ can scandalize us and make us feel lonely, maybe even occasionally test our faith. But it need not shock us. Christ knew that this would be the attitude that would fill the world at His coming.

And He came anyway.

The next line in the Gospel passage tells us why: “But to those who did accept him he gave power to become children of God.” The Word of God took on flesh with a tragic desire to save every single person, since there is not a single person created with the God-given destiny of damnation. But He also knew, long before the Annunciation, that only a relatively few would accept His invitation to the transformed, exalted life that brings with it eternal happiness.

And He came anyway.

In the end, because He knew ahead of time the number of the “chosen,” of those who would accept His invitation, it is these in particular for whom He has come. All of the rest of the drama of rejection was worth it to Him as He contemplated saving, redeeming, transforming, and exalting you and me.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Thank Jesus over and over for taking flesh, in spite of the foreseen enormous push-back of the world. Thank Him for contemplating rejection from the vantage point of eternity, and for embracing that rejection for you.

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December 30, 2020December 24, 2020

Pretention

This is a reflection on the Mass readings of the day.

There is a strikingly ordinary pair of lines at the close of today’s gospel, which could apply to any Christian child in grace: “The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon him.”

The child grew and became strong. A pleasant line, but an incredibly ordinary one–in stark contrast to the portentous utterances of Simeon and joyful acclaim of Anna the prophetess. There are no words, not one, about the child Jesus doing anything wondrous, anything that any other blessed child might not do.

This ordinary summation of the entire childhood of Jesus seems to reflect and fulfill St. John’s admonition in the first reading to avoid love for the world, for “…enticement for the eyes, and a pretentious life, is not from the Father but is from the world.”

Immediately we hear John’s words and consider the life of Jesus, and we think, “I am not worldly. I am not pretentious. I am ordinary. I am on Jesus’ side in this equation.”

And surely, we are. But perhaps there is a bit of room for further self-examination here. For, there are surely very few in the world who would call themselves pretentious. And yet, we know well that there are many in the world who are, in fact, pretentious.

Have we ever dreamt of having our full worth recognized by the world, in some way? Of our talents receiving full recognition? Has this not in fact at times congealed into an actual objective, a hidden motive that has driven real exertion and effort on our part?

At first glance, the quest for due recognition may not feel like pretention. But consider this: The infinite value that you perceive in yourself, while in the light of God’s love is legitimate and objectively real, is a characteristic of every one of the billions of human beings walking the planet. If each were to receive his/her “due recognition,” the planet’s productivity would grind to a halt. There would be no time to do anything but recognize each other.

It is for this reason that any longing for due recognition may truly fall under the heading of pretention. And when you think about it, it is this longing that typically leads others to acts that we acknowledge as pretentious.

Just as true accommodation of the need for due recognition would grind the world to a halt, we must recognize in our own lives that, if we were truly to obsess on love of neighbor, we would discover that there is not nearly enough time in life to accomplish all that we want to accomplish in that realm.

And certainly, as in the childhood of Jesus, there would be not time for pretentious acts seeking vain recognition.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Ask Jesus to purify the inertia and impetus of your heart so that it is filled with a desire for the happiness of others. Ask Him to send the Holy Spirit to fill your heart with the same obsessive passion for the happiness–especially eternal happiness–of other persons that He displayed throughout His life.

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