Matthew Williams – Page 28 – Meditation on Daily Mass Readings

September 30, 2020September 11, 2020

Spiritual Desert

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

From today’s psalm: “Why, O LORD, do you reject me; why hide from me your face?”

To anyone consistent in their commitment to daily dialogue with Jesus, the moment comes when this question resonates oh-so-deeply.

The path of sanctification, which for most of those who embark upon it is a gradual path and process that extends over time, may be defined as detachment from sin, self, and created things, and the filling of the soul with love for and union with God.

Souls who have come some way on this path and have had real experiences of God in prayer may suddenly feel that He is hiding from them. The more intense the experience of God has been, the more intense the feeling of abandonment when this “hiding” occurs.

This sense of loss feels like a step backward in the spiritual life. Here I was, systematically avoiding sin and maybe even making some voluntary sacrifices of things that I liked, and I had a sense of growing closer to God. I have remained consistent in my commitment to daily prayer. But now, all of a sudden, I feel like God just isn’t there. What am I doing wrong? It is as if God had come into my soul, ultimately found it distasteful, and left.

The reality is that this is just one more step in the purification process. Whereas we take some steps ourselves in that process, such as striving to avoid sin and become less attached to created things, this experience in prayer is a sign that God is starting to take over our purification process, which is like the engine in a car taking over for the little starter motor. It is a time, more than ever, to be faithful to our prayer commitment, trusting (albeit blindly!) that God is undertaking something great.

The writings of St. Teresa of Avila (Interior Castles) and St. John of the Cross (Ascent of Mount Carmel and Dark Night of the Soul) provide descriptions and explanations of these phenomena of prayer that can be highly illuminating. Also, there are many more modern spiritual writers who reflect on the works of these saints and also provide beneficial enlightenment. But for the soul that truly trusts in God, it may be enough simply to know that one has an opportunity here to share in the particular suffering of Jesus whereby He exclaimed from the Cross, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” (Cf. Mt. 27:46)

The first reading and the Gospel passage today beautifully highlight the virtues of humility and trust needed by the Psalmist as he cried out to God, feeling rejected.

Job’s argumentation to his friends is an eloquent tribute to God’s sovereignty. He as much as says, “God has both right and might as Creator. Even if I had a legitimate complaint against Him, I wouldn’t voice it, because what can one do? He is all-powerful, and He has a right to our unquestioning obedience, because He’s the one who created us! The most I can do is beg for His kindness and mercy.”

In today’s gospel, people called by Jesus put Him off and delay Him based on human reasoning–which actually sounds rather legitimate! Burying the dead, saying goodbye to one’s family…But what Jesus essentially does is play the sovereignty card to which Job refers in the first reading. When God says jump, you say “how high,” and let everything else take care of itself.

It is to this sovereignty that we must appeal during periods of desolation in prayer. Ours must not be an attitude of indignation or rebellion, nor even of human reasoning or self-doubt. His sovereign majesty and love deserve trust, which trumps literally every other possible consideration in our spiritual life.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: When you find yourself in a time that prayer becomes difficult for any reason–persistent distractions, or a sense of abandonment–make your words to the Lord ones of unconditional praise, trust, and submission to His Providence and will. And know that His effectiveness for your spiritual growth in closeness to Him is more powerful than ever.

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September 29, 2020September 10, 2020

What Angels Love about Being Angels

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

Today is the feast of the three great archangels, who stand in primacy with respect to the other angels: St. Michael, St. Gabriel, St. Raphael.

All three of these angels are mentioned in Scripture with a concrete role to play in the saga of man’s salvation. Gabriel enjoys the privileged role of announcing to Mary her conception of Jesus. Raphael helps the holy Tobias escape Satan in the book of Tobit. And Michael casts Satan from the skies. (He continues to protect us and the world from the attacks of Satan as we invoke Him in the St. Michael Prayer, which Pope Leo XIII introduced to the Church and asked us to pray.)

Today, though, only one of these is mentioned by name: Michael. We may well imagine that the others are not envious, though.

For as it happens, if we look at them carefully, the readings today are not really centered on these great servants of the Lord. Rather, they are focused on the “Blood of the Lamb,” and the “Son of Man.” The role of the angels in all the readings today, including the psalm, is that of ministering to the Lord. In the gospel, they are “ascending and descending on the Son of Man.” In the psalm, they are standing watch as we sing our praises to God. In one first reading option, they are ministering to God by the thousands; in the other, they conquer by the Blood of the Lamb.

One may fancy that these readings were picked out by these three angels themselves for this day, as their favorites. It is quite safe to say that their concept of themselves is not defined by the different tasks they’ve completed and the exploits they’ve performed, which are scarcely mentioned today; it is centered, rather, on the privilege they enjoy of ministering to Jesus Christ, the Lamb of God, Him who achieved victory through His sacrifice and whose “dominion is an everlasting dominion that shall not be taken away.”

Today’s readings, in fact, give one the impression that the angels never tire of singing Christ’s praises, and that they find the very joy of there identity therein.

Often, in prayer, we ask for help, and maybe we puzzle over the conundra that life throws at us, asking the Holy Spirit to enlighten us. But how much time do we spend simply praising Jesus?

One may think, praising Jesus is terribly boring, and useless. It’s using the same old words used by millions of others to tell God something that He already knows. He’s great. Woo hoo.

But consider the praise of the angels. It comes not from weary, rote, servile obligation, but from overflowing joy that simply has to come out.

Who is your favorite musician? Has there ever been one that you’ve obsessed over a bit? Imagine that person walking into your living room and sitting down for a refreshment and a chat, taking an interest in your life. In your joy, you would gush about how great that musician is. Maybe you would comment on your favorite song. “How did you write that? Oh my gosh you’re a genius!”

Meaningful praise comes when our mind and heart are truly full of the immensity of God. When this is the case, praise does not feel useless; it feels necessary. Do you have trouble sensing God’s beauty and glory? Don’t be discouraged. Remain faithful to your daily prayer, and patient. It will come.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Chat with Jesus “in your living room.” Go over with Him in your mind the crazy scheme of the Incarnation, the heroically shouldered burden of the passion, the cataclysmic and yet quiet miracle of the Resurrection, by which Jesus beat our death. Then, consider that He loves you just as you are, personally, even with your sins; that He would go through it all again for you. Consider that, even in your “work-in-progress” state, He is immensely proud of you, prouder than the parent of a crippled child learning to walk in rehab. Consider His greatness, His love, His mercy. And praise Him–praise Him like the angels themselves do.

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September 28, 2020September 28, 2020

Good Job, Children

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

Imagery of the encounters of Jesus with children enchant us. We see Him laying His hands on them and blessing them in Jn. 19:13-15, and when the disciples try to shoo them away, He rebukes them because “the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.”

In that passage from the Gospel of John, Jesus’ regard for children goes beyond mere affection. He holds them up as an example to follow for us who likewise wish to inherit the Kingdom of Heaven. In today’s gospel from St. Luke, He places one beside Him and, again showing the child as the example, He tells His disciples that the least among us is the greatest.

It may be hard, though, to understand precisely in what way Jesus wants us to be like little children. Is He asking us not to take on any leadership, but to follow, like a child does its parents? Is He asking us to be naive like an inexperienced child, relinquishing any pursuit of wisdom and knowledge? Or is He asking us to be affectionate toward God, like a child is toward its parents?

The first reading does not show us a child, but rather, an adult who models for us what it is to be childlike in the way that Jesus means, unlocking for us the heart of Jesus’ message. For Job is at once the manliest of men and the image of what Jesus means when He calls us to be “the least among you,” like a child.

We hear Job undergo a litany of disasters, one after the other, wherein all things he possesses on earth are wiped out, one after another. And the loss is not limited to possessions. All his children, too, are wiped out at once. Yet, Job blesses the name of the Lord. “Naked I came forth from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I go back again. The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away.”

What is it that moves Job to this attitude? Surely, he loves the domain he has accumulated. But to Job, it is just a manifestation of that which he loves most, which fascinates him: God’s loving role as provider. God is not a good provider because Job has much; rather, Job sees the much that he has merely as a sign of God’s bounty, sovereignty and goodness. For Job, God is the Provider and the reason, in fact, why the much that he has possessed is good.

How is Job like a child? Simple. When disaster strikes, a child does not rebel against its parent or question its goodness. It runs to the parent who loves it as its key to understanding and fixing the situation. The parent is the essential; all else is contingent.

So the virtue of a child that Jesus calls us to imitate, to the point that he signals it as our key to greatness, is the virtue of trust, trust that is so strong that it eclipses any possibility of attachment to anything earthly.

How does trust make us great? It is not that greatness is a false ideal, and that littleness must take its place. We are not called to be meek milquetoasts who are afraid of success. Job was certainly no such man.

Rather, trust opens our hearts to the true greatness of holiness, which is infused by God, and comes from no earthly achievement. When our hearts are completely open to Him in childlike trust, and we have relinquished the need for control that keeps Him out of the driver’s seat, He can show us what greatness is by filling us with the divinity. And divinity is not a pious, sweet feeling; divinity is He who is omnipotent, creator of the universe. Divinity is greatness itself.

Thus, when we become as childlike as Job, we open ourselves to receiving and becoming the kind of thunderous greatness that can change the world. So it has occurred with the saints–first and foremost the Blessed Virgin Mary, whose childlike “yes” at the Annunciation and throughout her life–that is, whose childlike trust in God–became the catalyst for God to exalt her as Queen of the Universe.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Tell Jesus that you want no attachments but Him. That you will gladly live life with riches, or destitution, with human love, or loneliness, whatever He wants–that you just want the fullness of Him, and the fulfillment that He brings, which requires nothing earthly. Abandon to Him even your fears and your responsibilities. Tell Him that you trust Him–and ask Him to help your lack of trust.

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September 27, 2020September 9, 2020

Two Roads Diverged in a Wood, and I–

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

Salvation was a hot topic in the 1500s within Christianity. Subject of much debate. Not so much anymore–because many take it for granted.

There is a mistaken logic prevalent among Catholics, often believed but not as often expressed, that goes something like this: God is infinitely kind and merciful, and He created human beings out of love, for eternal happiness. God, being omnipotent, is also not a failure. Now, we must not be heretics; we believe in human free will; we believe that not all are necessarily saved. But to go to hell after death, you need to live in open, explicit, clear, and stubborn rebellion against God. God will reluctantly respect such a decision to reject Him eternally. But in the end, given this threshold, few souls are lost. All the Scriptures (particularly the Gospel passages) that point to many taking the road to perdition are hyperbole aimed at helping assure that we don’t make the mistake of open rebellion against God.

But what if Jesus’ words–and in this case, they’re not very mysterious–what if they are true, at face value? What if the road to salvation really is narrow, and those who take it few? And the road to perdition wide and spacious, and those who travel it, many? (Cf. Lk. 13:23 and Mt. 7:13-14)

If this were the case, wouldn’t God be unjust–not to us, but to Himself, as infinitely merciful? Wouldn’t He, the omnipotent one, have failed?

Today’s readings go far in answering that question. “You say, ‘The LORD’s way is not fair!’ Hear now, house of Israel: Is it my way that is unfair, or rather, are not your ways unfair?” The Israelites seem to have grappled with the same questions that we do. Through the prophet, God goes on to say, in summary, “All you have to do is turn from the path of selfishness to the path of virtue, and you shall preserve your life. Why is that unfair?”

The Gospel passage reiterates this message eloquently. If we are to be saved, Jesus demands that we change. This is the contrast he makes between the prostitutes and tax collectors and the chief priests: The former repented and changed, the latter did not.

To lose our eternal salvation–a terrible prospect–we do not need actively to reject God. All we need to do, and we may do it by passive procrastination, is reject this change that is the condition for entering Heaven. All we need do is reject the transformation process God proposes to us. And, because this transformation involves radical, deep, and painful purification and detachment, it is very easy for us to reject it, simply by putting it off and ignoring it.

The road to perdition is wide and spacious, and many are those who travel it.

Is God betraying Himself, His mercy, when souls are lost? God would indeed betray Himself if He were to override the freedom He gave us by saving us without our cooperation. Is He a failure, if many are lost? His success is glorious when even one soul, having retained intact the mind-blowing gift of freedom by which God created us in His own image, and by which He made the decision to place limits on His own omnipotence, reaches the exalted destiny of holiness to which He calls all of us.

So, are His ways unfair? No, our ways are unfair, when, after all He has done to keep the door to salvation open to us, including acceptance of the radical humiliation of death on a cross described by St. Paul in the second reading, we refuse to walk through that door.

Now as we realize all these things, like the hearers of the apostles right after Pentecost, we may be cut to the heart and say, “What are we to do, my brothers?” (Cf. Acts 2:37)

Paul gives us the answer in that same second reading, when explaining the means to achieve unity in heart through love.

He explains that the secret is to be humble–but not just with any humility. He says, “Have in you the same attitude that is also in Christ Jesus,” who took the form of a slave and humbled Himself, becoming obedient to the point of death on a cross.

In the end, we must be humble enough to embrace and choose not only salvation, but the radical transformation required for holiness, the fullness of the exalted destiny to which God has called us in Christ. Because in the end, salvation and holiness are the same thing, and the former does not come without the latter. And the path of transformation is hard, because it means following the same path as Jesus: Humble obedience to God, even to the point of suffering.

The choice before us may seem radical. But so is the glory and happiness to the eternal life to which we are called.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Tell Jesus that you want Him to do the work in you that He is longing to do, to transform you. Ask Him to make sure this choice comes to fruition. Tell Him that in the midst of weakness and ignorance, you cannot do this without Him taking the process over. Tell Him you trust Him for your destiny, and ask Him to help you trust Him more.

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September 26, 2020September 8, 2020

“Memento Mori” (“Remember Death”)

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

Today’s first reading starts with the word “Rejoice,” but the rest of the reading is more sobering than it is exultant.

The reading encourages the young person to enjoy the benefit of youth and put off unpleasantries while still able.

But also to remember God, for youth is fleeting…and then the reading goes on to use beautiful poetic metaphors for the aging and death that await all of us.

Aging: “Guardians of the house [one’s limbs] tremble”; “Grinders [teeth] are silent because they are few”; “they who look through the windows [eyes] grow blind”; “the sound of the mill is low [hearing loss]”; etc.

Death: “the silver cord is snapped, the golden bowl is broken”; “the broken pulley falls into the well”; “dust returns to the earth as it once was,” “life breath returns to God who gave it.”

As so often is the case, the Psalm response puts the point of punctuation on this message: “You turn man back to dust, saying, ‘Return, O children of men.’ For a thousand years in your sight are as yesterday, now that it is past, or as a watch of the night.”

The great spiritual masters of the Church are unanimous in advising us actively to meditate on our deaths–to imagine what the circumstance might be, to close our eyes and place ourselves there. This meditation, for example, forms an explicit part of St. Ignatius’s Spiritual Exercises. And the practice is depicted in much medieval and Renaissance art, wherein monks as they write are shown with a skull upon their desk, which is aimed at reminding them of their eventual death.

This is not some sort of macabre practice to spook us or make us sad. Rather, when we meditate on our deaths, if we do so vividly and aided by God’s grace, we may take on some of the mindset which, as our impending encounter with eternity increases our lucidity, could be useful for informing our priorities for today. Mindfulness of the rapidly passing nature of our lives will inform the wisdom with which we live each day.

Jesus had His own death always before His eyes, and today He speaks of it. He was well aware of the story arc of His life, and its conclusion. While we do not know the exact circumstances of our deaths, we can orient our lives as Jesus did toward those things that will matter for eternity, and wisely order our days according to the fleeting reality of our lives.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Unlike the disciples in today’s Gospel passage, let’s not be so afraid of the topic of death that we hesitate to ask Jesus questions about it. Close your eyes, and imagine your last moments, with as much vivid detail as your imagination can muster. Then, ask Jesus questions. How happy is He with the life you have lived, as you prepare for your definitive encounter with Him? How would He ask you to prioritize differently?

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September 25, 2020September 8, 2020

Time and the Timeless

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

God “has put the timeless into their hearts,” the first reading tells us, even though we never fully discover the full scope of this work that He has done.

What is the timeless? Well, if we are to believe St. Paul, there are three things that last: Faith, Hope, and Charity (cf. 1 Cor. 13:13). Of course, faith and hope remain in eternity only with respect to their objects–God, and the possession of God–and thus, it may be said, far from disappearing, faith and hope are fulfilled forever in eternity.

So, these are the timeless, these are the lasting, these are the unchanging. By contrast, the first reading cycles through a list of contrasting pairs. It states that as regards everything else, that which is passing and not timeless, there is an appropriate time for each extreme: birth/death, sowing/reaping, tearing down/building, etc.

In the end, the three things that last drive us in different directions in this passing world, depending on circumstance–in particular supernatural Charity, that is, the virtue that moves us to give ourselves to God and to the welfare of neighbor. Take child-raising, for example. Sometimes, the loving thing is to embrace and show affection. Other times, out of love for our children and motivated by their long-term welfare, we adopt a stern stance and apply balanced punishment.

We call the virtue by which we judge the right (and loving) course of action “prudence.”

But far beyond human prudence, that is, common sense and sound judgement, there is the infinite ocean for us to explore of our relationship with God, whereby the Holy Spirit–with His infinite creativity and pure, rich love for humanity–can instruct us in paths to follow on our adventure through time that our human prudence would never suggest to us. There is no limit to the depths of love that we can plumb in the heart of God.

Consider, for example, the Holy Spirit’s creative solution to the impossible blind alley of sin that the human race had chosen: Create a maiden who, retroactively preserved from any touch of sin by her Son’s posterior sacrifice, gives her pure “yes” in full freedom to the re-entry of God into the world–this time, in the flesh, to take on sin and take it to its defeat and demise, and then rise victorious.

You don’t find more creative–or effective–solutions than that.

While striving to practice good judgement, if our prayer life is constant and committed and we are in a state of grace, we can grow in the degree to which that good judgement is more about listening to and adopting the counsel of this Sweet Guest of the Soul, rather than arriving at reasonable decisions through dry analysis. So it is that the saints display a wisdom that exceeds anything reachable by human effort alone.

So, God is about the timeless. He places the timeless in our hearts, and He helps us in our time through the Holy Spirit.

But today’s Gospel passage reminds us that God is no longer only about the timeless. He has subjected His own eternal self, incarnate in flesh, to the vicissitudes of time, and time’s very different demands of us at different moments. For Christ, too, there was a time to embrace, and a time to correct; a time to be born, and a time to die…and, a time to rise from the dead. Today He forewarns the disciples about His time to die, and they don’t like it. They want the timeless God, unconstrained by the shackles of our temporal limitations. And yet, it is by taking on our time, with all its constraints and vicissitudes, that God redeemed within us our ability to regain access to the timeless, and soar to its endless heights.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Explain to Jesus how hard it is sometimes to make the right decisions each day and to judge, in difficult circumstances, the right path forward within the concrete, complex, imperfect realities of time. Ask Him to send you the Holy Spirit in a “double portion” (cf. 2 Kgs. 2:9) to guide you to beautiful, creative solutions as you traverse time’s paths.

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September 24, 2020September 24, 2020

Here Comes the Sun

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

When considering the deeper reality of things, It helps to back over and over again the reality explained to us in Genesis of the impact of human sin on our collective lot.

“Cursed is the ground because of you! In toil you shall eat its yield all the days of your life.” (Gn. 3:17)

If God loves us so much, why is it so hard to eke out a living? Why does much of what we do fail? It’s right there in black and white. When we start wringing our hands because it’s so unfair, it is well to remember that we have made our own bed through our rejection of God–individually, but also collectively, cosmically.

Which is the reason that today’s first reading rings as true now as it did when it was written thousands of years ago. Mind you, we have something that the Scripture author didn’t have in his time: Technology and know-how that tangibly advances from generation to generation. It is a sign of God’s mercy that He allows us actually to make progress–clambering, as it were, a few feet up the side of the deep pit that we have dug for ourselves through sin.

But in the end, there really is “nothing new under the sun.” The sun, source of so much of what we need to sustain life, keeps rising and setting; the winds keep blowing; man, like a poor player, “struts and frets his hour upon the stage. And then is heard no more” (Shakespeare–Macbeth, Act V, Scene V). All our progress has not removed our stress, our fretting, our worry, our fear, or the insecurity of our sin-weakened existence.

“But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?” (Shakespeare–Romeo and Juliet, Act II, Scene II) Nothing new under the sun–until the year zero, until God takes on flesh to send a ladder down the pit; until, in our individual lives, we discover Jesus Christ.

The sun goes on rising, but now the Sun of Justice rises behind it, with healing in its wings (cf. Ml. 3:20). It is as though, upon our two-dimensional, cyclical, never-really-changing world, a third dimension has broken in.

Even Herod, in our Gospel passage today, perceives the novelty, and his characteristic casual curiosity is piqued. He has beheaded John, perpetuating the cycle of barbarity in our darkened world. So who is this new guy? What do you mean it’s Elijah, or John returned–did I not snuff that out?

Herod is ever in search of entertaining novelty (later he would ask Jesus to perform a trick for him–cf. Lk. 23). But he has no idea just how revolutionary the novelty of the crucified Jesus would prove to be.

The world has heard the name of Jesus for centuries; you and I have heard it and think we know what it means. But if we long for novelty, that is where we are to find it–rather than in the next Apple release. Because, despite what we think we know, of Jesus’ novelty we have scarcely scratched the surface.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Summarize the life, death, Resurrection, and Ascension of Jesus in your heart. Run through the history of the Church in a rapid review. Tell Jesus how you interpret all this. Then, ask Him if there is something new from Him, something unexpected for your life; ask Him if you have exhausted all His novelty. Ask Him to inundate your soul with awe at the unexpected newness, depth, inexhaustibility of His presence in your life.

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September 23, 2020September 7, 2020

Stress and Love

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

I have lost my job. My girlfriend just broke up with me. I have finals this week. I have a killer deadline at work. My romantic life is going well but is highly perplexing. This year I actually lost money, paying out more to provide for my family than the money I earned. My teenage children are running with the wrong crowd. I have an exciting new business opportunity. I’m really worried that my presentation at work won’t be up to snuff with the executives. I can’t keep all my family’s schedules straight. I am late, late, LATE!

Realities like these make up the stuff of our lives. Sometimes the words of the first reading sound really enticing, on every level: “Give me neither poverty nor riches;
provide me only with the food I need.” Perhaps we would like to have just enough, but not too much, guaranteed for life, so that we wouldn’t have to run around like chickens with our heads cut off. Maybe then we would have time for God. Maybe then there would be room in our hearts for Him.

The words in today’s Gospel passage probably resonate less with us: “Take nothing for the journey, neither walking stick, nor sack, nor food, nor money, and let no one take a second tunic.” Whatever our vocation, it involves taking care in some way, directly or indirectly, of others, which by definition means being prepared and provisioned. This is the very definition of responsibility.

And certainly, there is nothing wrong with having a job and earning money, with doing the things we need to do to manage the realities of our lives, as part of our vocation.

Perhaps the error does not lie in the sort of things we do. Perhaps the error does not lie in how much we have or do not have. Perhaps, for many of us, the error does not lie in attachment to riches and luxuries.

Perhaps what keeps us from living Gospel detachment from earthly realities, rather, is our attachment to fear. Fear is the unfortunate fruit of Adam and Eve’s desire to be “like gods.” And in our lives, it points directly to the sin of pride. Unfortunately, when we adopt the role of God in our lives, with that comes God’s responsibility: That is, the final, buck-stops-here responsibility to provide for ourselves and those we love.

If our attitude is more like that of the new Eve, the Blessed Virgin Mary, we recognize in a real, practical, palpable way that we live entirely dependent on God’s role as Lord and Provider. We may still do the same sorts of things in our lives, but we relax. Even though I could lose my job if this presentation comes out badly, even though I may missing something crucial on my family’s schedule, even though I feel unable to make my relations with my spouse go smoothly, even though the eternal salvation of my children is not guaranteed (!), It’s all good. It’s all OK. The buck simply doesn’t stop with me.

We perceive the terrible effect of our human race’s definitive “no” to God with original sin, in the immense difficulty we find in letting go of our absolute sense of responsibility. Ironically, though, letting go of this is critical to carry out, even imperfectly, our true responsibility: The responsibility to love God above all things, and our neighbor as ourselves. Fear chokes our ability to love.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Examine your life with Jesus. Try to put your finger on the areas where you act as if the buck stopped with you, and where the fear you so carefully strive to conceal is controlling you. Talk to Him about what guarantees He will give to you if you place those really risky areas in your life in His hands and stop worrying about them. If you do this, will you let Him down? Or will He, rather, take care of you?

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September 22, 2020September 7, 2020

Hearing

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

You have to love this proverb: “Whoever makes a fortune by a lying tongue is chasing a bubble over deadly snares.”

In other news, the readings of today subtly but powerfully point to Our Lady as the model creature, she who, among those without divine nature, provides us with the best example in the universe of what it means to walk by faith.

Mary is the model par excellence of one “who hears the word of God and acts on it.”

But what does this mean in Mary’s life?

We get a hint from the first reading. This passage from Proverbs mirrors the Magnificat. It decries haughtiness and arrogance and predicts their punishment, prefiguring Mary’s statement: “He has thrown down the rulers from their thrones but lifted up the lowly.” Even the format of the first reading reminds one of the format of Mary’s joyful proclamation to Elizabeth. We may well imagine that it was through meditation on passages like this one that the Holy Spirit cultivated Mary’s beautifully fertile heart throughout her youth. When you meditate on Proverbs, Wisdom, Sirach, Samuel, and Kings, you may well be meditating on the very same passages that Mary prayed on as the Holy Spirit crafted the heart of a mother for the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity.

And therein lies the hint for us. In today’s Gospel passage, Jesus does not simply say “My mother and my brothers are those who do God’s will.” He says, “My mother and my brothers are those who hear the word of God and act on it.”

So often we jump right to the acting, and neglect the hearing. When Jesus later praises Mary of Bethany for choosing “the better part” in contrast to Martha’s laudable acts of service, it is to this “hearing” that He is referring.

Even though the passages referencing Our Lady are relatively few, they are full of allusions to this “hearing.” For example, “And Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart.” (Lk. 2:19)

As often happens, today’s psalm puts a cherry on top of the message of readings of the day. “Guide me, Lord, in the way of your commands.” The attitude is one of listening to discern where the Holy Spirit is leading. An attitude of “hearing.”

Maybe, just maybe, the entire secret to the Christian life is laid bare subtly but openly in today’s readings, for anyone who should wish to discover it: To have a desire for God’s guidance as our sole priority in life, and to listen attentively to the Holy Spirit, through time dedicated to prayer and throughout our activity, trusting in the marvelous promise of Christ in Lk. 11:11-13:

“What father among you would hand his son a snake when he asks for a fish? Or hand him a scorpion when he asks for an egg? If you then, who are wicked, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the Father in heaven give the holy Spirit to those who ask him?”

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Ask Jesus to give you the trust in His promises that you need to listen for and hear the guidance of the Holy Spirit. Ask Him to overcome your doubt, by which perhaps you fear that you will hear only your selfishness and be deceived. Contemplate the example of Our Lady, who, through her trust and attitude of listening, seemed effortlessly to discern the voice of the Holy Spirit. Speak with her, and ask her to intercede before her Son, to overcome the less worthy voices within you with the quiet, breeze-like, but all-powerful voice of His Spirit.

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September 21, 2020September 7, 2020

Finger-Waggers

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

Matthew, whose feast we celebrate today, is best known for being a person sick with sin, a resented tax collector, whom Jesus came to heal. Oh and also, for writing one of the four most important texts in history: The Gospel of St. Matthew.

As so often is the case, the interplay between today’s first reading and today’s gospel is fascinating. Paul starts us off with a plea for unity, echoing Jesus’ priestly prayer in Jn. 17. Repeating a favorite theme of his, Paul talks about how people have different gifts, but all are necessary for the health and function of the one body.

If we look through history, what is the great destroyer of unity? The fundamental answer is obvious: It is the sin of the human will through pride and sensuality, and the consequent clouding of the human intellect. Sin sets us against one another, and as a result of sin, our intellects assess and understand reality differently from one another, sometimes radically so.

But let us take a closer look at the cause for disunity in the Christian Church, specifically. Why has the Church broken apart in ages past, and what strains it most today? In addition to the sins of Christians, it is our reaction to and magnification of the sins of others that performs the coup de grace on Christian unity.

Consider the Protestant Reformation. Hey Pope, you’re doing bad things. You’re living a worldly, sinful life, you are sensual and arrogant, and you are abusing the faithful through the sale of indulgences and similar misuses of power. So what am I going to do to purify the Church? Leave. I’m taking my ball and going home. Your sin trumps my loyalty to the Church that Christ founded.

We can wag our finger at Martin Luther and fellow reformers all we want, but how often do we act similarly? You, fellow Catholic, or maybe pastor of my parish, are superficial, arrogant, not spiritual, hypocritical, etc. So, I am going to criticize you bitterly, commit the grievous sin of gossip with no remorse, and even lose hope in Christ’s promise to protect His Church.

In doing all of this, even if I am a “faithful,” orthodox Catholic, a daily Mass-goer, etc., I am the one who is driving the definitive cleaver into Church unity.

What lies at the root of this sin? The root lies in a lack of the theological virtues, especially all-important Hope, without which Charity is impossible.. And the root of this lack, as of so many things, is a lack of a healthy prayer life. Even the benefit of frequent reception of the sacraments is severely truncated when we do not dedicate time to the cultivation of a vibrant life of contemplative prayer, that is, simple, daily dialogue with Jesus Christ where we seek to know His Heart. It is in the school of prayer that we learn Jesus’ view of our fellow Christians, which is not one of bitter, frustrated condemnation, but rather one of patient and loving mercy.

The apostles, even with all the flaws we may perceive in them in the Gospel, provide us with a mute but eloquent example for Christian unity. Never once do we see them questioning Jesus for inviting Matthew, a greedy and worldly tax collector, to be one of His disciples. Never do we see the thoughtful apostle St. John upbraiding the brash Peter, or questioning Jesus’ decision to choose him as prince of the apostles. Later, St. Paul, in questioning Peter on various Church matters, does so with a respect devoid of bitterness and harsh judgement.

What is the key to the unity and lack of bitterness among the apostles? It is contact with Jesus, and His treatment of the other, His love for their particular potential even in the midst of their weakness and sin. It is contact with Jesus that will build unity in today’s Church as well, and this contact for us translates into the powerful blend of contemplative prayer and sacramental life. This unconquerable blend turns our bitterness toward our fellow sinful Christians into recognition of their potential, and passionate zeal for their spiritual and temporal welfare, built upon serene, unshakable trust in the triumph of Jesus Christ.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Think of a fellow Christian with whom your struggle. Maybe it’s someone close, even your spouse; maybe it’s a more public figure. Ask Jesus how His heart contemplates that person, and what He wants for them. Ask Him to form your heart to be more like His. Maybe, like Matthew, that person will be called to turn around and make a powerful contribution to the welfare of the Church–through your love and intercession.

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