Gale and Zephyr

Windy Beach

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


Jesus tells us that the Spirit blows where He wills, like the wind (cf. Jn. 3:8).

Sometimes the wind is a storm gale; sometimes it is a warm, gentle summer zephyr.

The Holy Spirit is ungovernable; He suffers not to be constrained or bottled up.

Jesus promises us that anyone who asks will receive the Holy Spirit (cf. Lk. 11:13).

Yet, the Holy Spirit has demands, as a condition for His indwelling. He demands to transform us, not the other way around. He is the Spirit of truth; He is no mere force to add power behind our own opinions and preferences. In the end, He is a Spirit of humility, and He only abides with those who learn humility, patience, and obedience from Him.

For those who ask insistently for the Holy Spirit and submit to His way, He brings joy, peace, security, certainty, courage, wisdom, strength.

The Holy Spirit is God’s gift to the Church at Pentecost, accessible to each one of us. If we want to possess this gift in its fullness, all we need do is ask.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Ask Jesus for a gift of the fullness of the Holy Spirit in your heart. Tell Him that you are indifferent as to whether that gift be perceptible or imperceptible, ardent or quiet–that you long for the Spirit who will give you the ability to persevere in obedience to God’s will and facilitate the salvation and sanctification of others.

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A Spirit of Listening

Hare

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


The first apostles ran into the same human struggles that we believers run into today.

In the first reading, we see that Jewish believers held that Gentile converts to Christianity needed to be circumcised. Paul and Barnabas debated against this.

How could this discussion come to pass? If all the believers were filled with the Holy Spirit, how was there debate? Was the Spirit debating against Himself?

When we sense the Spirit acting in us, especially if we are new to this phenomenon, we can be so impressed and impacted, that we think of ourselves as infallible, guided perfectly by His light.

Upon filling us with Himself, however, the Holy Spirit does not transform us completely with His omnipotence and omniscience, though He does enhance our understanding and will with His gifts. A true sign of a maturity in our relationship with the Holy Spirit is the clear awareness that we are not He; that we are subject to Him, with our continued human frailty and imperfection; and also, that He works in others, to whom we must humbly listen in order to gain in the truth.

We do not hear that the believers in the first reading were scandalized at the differences of opinion that they underwent. Rather, as Paul and Barnabas headed up to Jerusalem to debate the matter further, they were filled with joy at the conversion of the Gentiles, and they spread that joy in all the communities that they visit.

Ultimately, the matter is resolved, in that Gentile converts are not forced to undergo circumcision.

Paul and Barnabas provide a model of humility for us: The presence of the Holy Spirit in us should lead us to listen more attentively, not less so, to the good counsel coming from the hearts of our fellow Christians. And maturity in our relationship with the Holy Spirit is the result of remaining united to Christ, the vine, as described in today’s gospel.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Ask Jesus to fill you with His Holy Spirit, and in doing so, with the humble understanding of your ongoing imperfection of judgement and will; and the limitations of your place in the economy of salvation.

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The Yardstick

Measuring Tape

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


If today we see a clear common thread between the sin of the Pharisees at which Jesus sighs in the gospel, and the sin of Cain from centuries earlier in the first reading, perhaps we can identify an attribute common to sin in general. And if we can identify a common attribute, perhaps we can identify its seeds germinating in us, even before we fall into it, and uproot those seeds.

At first glance, Cain may appear to have a right to be disgruntled. The first reading does not specify why God wasn’t please with his offering. Maybe Cain and Abel both did the best they could, and God was being finicky.

Not likely, though. It appears safe to assume that Cain either didn’t do his best in cultivating the field, or his offering to God was not the best from what he had. He had done the primeval equivalent of phoning it in.

Cain is angry and resentful about God’s reaction to his offering. Here is where we can stop, and look at the Pharisees’ attitude for commonality.

The Pharisees ask Jesus for a sign “to test him.” The Pharisees consider themselves the arbiters, the judges, and Jesus the one who needs to prove Himself. With God Himself right in their midst, they have set themselves in His chair–on the chair of judgement, and judgement over Him.

Not so far afield from what Cain was doing. When he became disgruntled at God’s reaction, rather than using God as the measuring stick and adjusting himself accordingly, Cain used himself as the measuring stick and thus found fault with God–and ultimately, unable to punish God, he took it out on Abel. Like the Pharisees, he set himself in the judgement seat over God.

The sin of pride. There it is. Unwillingness to be schooled by God, or schooled by others.

Even Eve seems to have learned her lesson in the first reading, to have eaten some humble pie. She recognizes that she has not “become like gods” as promised by the serpent–she recognizes the Lord’s help and hand in the gift of her child.

Pride: The root of all sins, present in some way in all. Conquer pride, and you have conquered yourself.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Ask Jesus to give you the immeasurably valuable gift of humility, and help you to shift your measure for all things to His view, His will, His desires, His loves, rather than your view, your will, your desires, your loves.

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The Box

Box

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


Can God be kept in a box?

Solomon didn’t think so, as we see in today’s first reading. “Can it indeed be that God dwells on earth? If the heavens and the highest heavens cannot contain you, how much less this temple which I have built!”

Solomon’s humility before God is refreshing in the face of the Pharisees in today’s gospel. Fast-forward a few centuries from Solomon, and the Jewish religious authorities think they’ve managed to box God in thoroughly. They’ve hemmed Him in on every side with their niggling little precepts about cup-polishing and bed-cleansing, about helping a mule on the Sabbath but not a human being. The message is simple: Do all these little things, and you receive a get-out-of-jail free card; you don’t even have to give God a second thought. He’s placated.

And so they acted in their own lives. They roundly disregarded God and neighbor. It is perhaps especially the latter that utterly infuriates Jesus. His compassion for the needs of his fellow humans is His acute focus, and the Pharisees’ tone-setting of blithe disregard stirs His wrath.

But in the end, God can live in a box. Jesus channels His wrath, not in destruction, but in self-sacrifice, so totally encompassing mankind is His loving compassion that He even prays specifically for those killing Him, a group that includes those same Pharisees. And He does so with his some of His last breaths.

He boxes Himself into the temple of human flesh, He boxes Himself into imprisonment, suffering, and death. He suffers every limitation willingly to free us from the stifling box of our own sin, and to free us from every boundary, allowing us to taste infinity.

And ultimately, to this day, He literally boxes Himself into the tabernacle present in every Catholic Church, so that from that vantage point He can accompany us in our challenges and tribulations.

Whom all the world cannot contain, limits Himself that we may find boundlessness.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Ask Jesus to take you up into the dynamic, not only of the limitless of His divinity, but then also of His self-sacrifice for His creatures. Ask Him to fill you with the compassion that drove Him to distraction. Ask Him to fill you with His greatness, that you may join Him in self-giving for the needy.

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Paradise Lost, Paradise Found

Paradise

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


In Jesus’ condemnation of the attitude of the Pharisees we see how man has corrupted the beautiful destiny God assigned to Him, the destiny we see in the first reading–to rule as just monarch over all creation.

Instead, the Pharisees of Jesus’ time and so, so many in our time as well seek oppression of their fellow man in order to secure their own dominance and power.

The gift of God at creation, dominance over that creation, was lost to man with original sin, and ever since he pitiably seeks to establish some semblance of his sense of dignity, nobility, and greatness. He seeks cheap dominance over his brothers and sisters, and a vain, passing taste of superiority.

The entire story arc of Jesus’ life, and by extension the life of His faithful followers, is the exact inverse of this pitiable clawing for scraps of self-worth. Jesus does not seek to rise, but indeed descends and abases Himself by taking on flesh, out of love. He comes from a place of infinite superiority and perfect security to make Himself the vulnerable servant.

We, His followers, will never get beyond the shadow of the ideal of following in Jesus’ humble footsteps if we do not first fill ourselves with His greatness, His security through our relationship with Him in prayer and in the sacraments. A full dose of these gifts of Jesus comes slowly, through a steadfast commitment to a sometimes “unfulfilling” stretch of daily contemplative prayer. But the reward is a complete upending of our miserable lives, turned over to represent the descending and re-ascending arc of Jesus as we give ourselves to our fellow humans.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Tell Jesus that you want the destiny He has come to give you, which transcends even the original greatness and nobility of Adam. Then ask Him to give you the courage and the means to follow His story arc of self-forgetfulness to bring other humans to the same destiny that you have found.

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Go Down to Go Up

Subway

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


A fundamental dynamic of salvation history, that is, a dynamic of God’s interaction with the human person after the fall, emerges as a theme in all the readings today. It is the dynamic of the human person experiencing humility and humiliation as a condition of reaching the destiny of high exaltation to which God calls every person redeemed by His son. The experience of the dynamic humiliation-exaltation yields a third reality, which is profound gratitude on the part of the redeemed.

In the first reading, Hannah experiences for a long period the humiliation of sterility. God answers her pleas for a child, and in gratitude she consecrates the boy to God, quite literally making a gift of him at the temple.

Hannah prefigures the reality of the Blessed Virgin Mary expressed so beautifully in the today’s gospel. Mary needed no humiliation event to come into intimate contact with her own lowliness. She was ever-conscious of her smallness before God. It is not the suffering of humiliation that pleases God as He instructs us; He merely wants us to be fully aware of our littleness, as the key to understanding our dependency on Him for our happiness and seeking a relationship with Him above all else. Mary had this awareness without the need for any bitter lesson.

As such, Mary’s gratitude is arguably even more pure than that of someone like Hannah, who passed through the experience of bitter humiliation; Mary had made perfect peace with her littleness from early on, which made God’s exaltation of her that much more of an unexpected surprise.

To the degree that we come into intimate contact with our smallness before God, and our need for a close union with Him for our happiness, to that degree the beauty of Mary’s Magnificat resonates with us.

As is often the case, today’s psalm sums up the lesson well for us:

The well-fed hire themselves out for bread,
while the hungry batten on spoil.
The barren wife bears seven sons,
while the mother of many languishes.

As we prepare for Christmas in the final days, we foresee the dynamic from today’s readings play out with the extreme of beauty in the mystery of the Incarnation. It is Jesus, God Himself, who enters into the dynamic of humiliation directly, by taking on flesh and ultimately suffering the epitome of degradation at the hands of sinners with His Passion and death. And the beauty of it is, He does so not for the benefit of any personal exaltation, but that we may come to be exalted. He takes on the dynamic of humiliation for us.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Speak with Our Lady, in this time before Christmas. Ask her to help you appreciate the dynamic of humiliation and to open your heart to it. Ask her to look after you as your Mother during the necessary period of humiliation that this life involves, if we are to be exalted with her Son–so that it does not embitter your heart against God, but leads to a profound awareness of your need for Him.

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Housebuilder

Home Construction

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


Christian life is hard. There is a critical element of dogged consistency to it. It is not just a question of following the “do nots” of the Ten Commandments, though this in itself presents its challenges. It is also a question of consistency in our sacramental life and prayer time, especially meditation on Scripture. Also, there is an element of being present for others and helping them to live the faith, per the demands of our vocation–not to mention Christian charity, both toward the poor and toward each of our neighbors.

Because “our part” in the Christian life is not easy, we often make the mistake that David did in today’s first reading. He decided he was going to build a house for the Lord.

God appears both pleased, in a way, and yet, corrective. His words seem to say, “What do you mean you are going to build me a house? Do you think I need you to provide my needs for me? Look at what I’ve done for you…but that’s only the beginning. I’m going to build a house for you that will last forever.” He doesn’t punish David for his misunderstanding of things. To the contrary, He reconfirms the great destiny He has in store for David’s line.

How this resonates for us in our Christian life! Because “our part” in our relationship with God seems daunting at times, we make the mistake that our mission on this earth is to do something monumental for God. We grow restless when we don’t find something glamorous to achieve on His behalf.

As challenging as the Christian life is, especially when we consider how much needs to be changed in the world if it is to be brought back to God, we can react like David: “Hey, I think I’ll go build God a thing.”

The most glorious, wonderful paradox in Christian life: Far, far more productive is Mary’s attitude toward God, present conveniently for us in today’s Gospel passage in sharp contrast to David’s: “I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done unto me according to your word.” Mary realizes from moment zero that the wonders to be worked in her life are to be worked by God Himself. Her life is not her big project for God. It is His big project for her.

Thus, Mary’s gift of herself, of her life, to God is not the gift of a grand project for achievement, but rather the gift of her “yes,” her enthusiastic embracing of His plan for her, whatever it will bring.

Even as Mary’s response contrasts with David’s in the first reading encounter with God, it also fulfills it. In her perfect embodiment of God’s plan, with perfect grace, Mary brings forth Him who is the Personification of the permanence of the reign of David’s house.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Ask Jesus to shape and purify your understanding of your relationship with Him. Ask Him to help you to be faithful to all the demands of Christian life, but to remember that all of this is just your simple, humble “yes” that sets the stage for Him to accomplish things in your life that are beyond your imagination.

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Even God Cannot Sink This Ship

Titanic

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


There are many forms of sin. They all hinder us from following the Lord’s Great Commandment, whereby we love God above all things, and our neighbor as ourselves. (cf. Mk. 12:30-31)

Laziness keeps us from making effort to spend time with God in prayer, and serve neighbor. Gluttony turns our focus on our own pleasure–to the point of self-harm–and away from love. Lust makes objects of other human beings, and desecrates something set up by God as sacred.

Still, upon the discovery of the wonder of Christ, when one truly experiences Him, we see how suddenly these sins don’t seem so attractive anymore–they are cast aside in favor of Christ. We see, for example, how Zacchaeus the tax collector of a moment leaves his life of greed to follow Jesus, when Jesus comes to eat in his house (cf. Lk. 19:1-10).

An experience of Christ, for the sinner, is like the experience of finding that fullness of happiness that has been the object of a vain, frustrating search in all the wrong, empty places.

One of the seven capital sins, however, is actually exacerbated by an experience of Christ: The sin of Pride. Jesus’ call to obey God and sacrifice for others challenges the heart of stubborn Pride, which seeks autonomy and willful self-governance at all costs.

Thus, in today’s Gospel passages, we see tax collectors and other sinners repenting at the preaching of John the Baptist and Jesus’ preaching, but the Pharisees–whose only sin seems to be that of Pride–stubbornly and tragically resisting faith in Christ, resisting the key to their own temporal and eternal happiness.

In the first reading, too, the sin for which God sharply corrects His people is precisely that sin by which they refuse to be corrected–the sin of Pride. His remedy in the case of the Pride in the midst of His people is to remove the proud–we do not hear of conversion of their hearts.

Over and over again in Scripture, Old and New Testaments, we see Pride ending in tragedy, which becomes eternal: The tragic decision not to listen to God, or be corrected by Him, or obey Him; in the proud, we see a failure in God’s efforts to convert them.

The scary thing about Pride: It is also the most subtle sin. It seeps slowly into all of us, almost imperceptibly. By nature we want to feel powerful and superior, and so we snap up any opportunity to feel more this way.

But, God is the ally of His own. Those who ask Him for humility are not denied the gift–and protection of the gift. Sometimes God lovingly lays low those He loves to answer their plea to protect their humility, to protect them in His grace.

It is wise not to yield to the temptation to dream about feeling almighty, like the great entrepreneurs, the great barons of business, those seen by the world as the great achievers. Their belief in their greatness and their lasting-power is a mirage. Rather, we must be ready to accept continual course correction from Our Lord, and find our greatness in submitting to His glorious laws of love.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Ask Jesus to grant you the precious gift that His mother possessed, seemingly effortlessly: Graceful humility, by which one is profoundly joyful and grateful because of the exaltation involved in being called to a loving relationship with Him. Ask Him to protect you from the sin of Pride, which tempts with its promise of autonomy, but in the end brings only denigration and emptiness.

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No One Born of Woman who is Greater

John the Baptist

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


These days, we see Gospel readings about John the Baptist, the great precursor, and how he prepared the way for Jesus.

One of the most beautiful things about John the Baptist in the Gospel is not so much what he does and what role he plays, as what particular, special love Jesus loves holds for him. And how for John, his own identity really isn’t about himself–it’s about Jesus.

Yesterday, we see John answering questions about his identity. He is asked if he was “Elijah,” “the Prophet,” to which he simply answers, “No.” He responds that he is simply the “voice crying in the desert.”

Yet, in another place, Jesus says of John: “And if you are willing to accept it, he is Elijah, the one who is to come.” (cf. Mt. 11:14). John says he is not Elijah; Jesus says he is. Who is right?

Well, Jesus is. But John did not see himself as a great prophet–he could only consider his own identity in relation to Jesus, not as some great standalone figure.

But Jesus is always ready to call out John’s special role, and his greatness. “I tell you, among those born of women, no one is greater than John…” (cf. Lk. 7:28)

John was very much aware of his littleness, his unworthiness to untie Jesus’ sandal straps. (cf. Lk. 3:16) But based on the way He talks about John, even leaning on the Baptist’s witness in today’s gospel as evidence for His own authority–based on all that Jesus says about John in the Gospel, when He looks at John, all He sees is greatness.

Is it possible that this is your relationship with Jesus as well? That when you come to Him, you offer Him your nothingness out of gratitude, acutely aware that on your own you can do nothing for Him and have no worth or power whatsoever? And yet, that when Jesus looks at you, all He sees is glory-bound greatness, one with an exalted eternal destiny, one who is helping Him to save humanity?

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Ask Jesus for trust–trust in His perspective of you, not so that you will lose your humility and sense of nothingness, but so that you will more and more place all your hope for happiness in Him, in His love, in His ability to make you what He sees you to be.

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Ordinary People

People on a Sidewalk

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


Catholic spiritual theology teaches us that we can attain, even in this life, profound and exalted union with God, as an initial experience of the union with Him that will come to true and final fulfillment in eternity.

This may lead us to a notion that we are to be something notably spectacular as we walk the earth, constantly impressing with our heroic virtue and aura of amazingness.

We can forget that all glory in the end belongs to and comes from God, and that our role is wonderfully humble and simple.

In the first reading, St. Paul doesn’t speak of impressive acts of heroic virtue or stretch goals of saintly action. He talks about basic self-control, dignity, temperance, balance.

Similarly, in the today’s gospel, Jesus teaches us to take the path, not of the heroic knight, to be awarded riches and lands for his glorious and storied exploits in service of the king, but rather the humble servant who has a simple job to do and simply does it.

It is the great paradox of the Gospel that if we want to attain to glory and an exalted, transforming relationship with God, all we need to do is live our daily life in great simplicity, for others, with a commitment to daily prayer and sacramental life. For “everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.” (Lk. 14:11)

No one exemplifies this dynamic better than Mary, the simple girl of Nazareth, the “handmaid of the Lord” who spent her life in the most ordinary and unremarkable way, but has been greatly glorified in Heaven due to her absolute daily gift of self to God.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Examine your aspirations in dialogue with Jesus. Ask Him if you are not overly anxious to sense that you are doing something impressive with your life. Ask Him if the daily gift of your simple vocation is enough for Him to do great things. Ask Him for the gift of an ordinary life of service in humility, joyfully recognizing at the same time that all His eternal glory is His unmerited gift to you.

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