Fruits of the Spirit

Dove

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


The Holy Spirit is the Spirit of peace, and the Spirit of courage. It is not that there is no such thing as mere human peace, or mere human courage. But the Holy Spirit’s peace and courage are as far above mere human peace and courage as God is above the creature.

In today’s gospel, one would think Jesus would take heart and draw encouragement from a group of disciples who seem to finally get it–they finally understand His message, and they want Him to know it.

But Jesus sees far beyond the momentary satisfaction such a confession can bring, and speaks out of concern, not for Himself, but for them. He lets them know that in spite of their current certainty, they will scatter when He is captured; but when that time comes, instead of wilting in shame, He wants them to take heart. He wants them to be at peace, because although they suffer turmoil while here below, He in the end has the victory: “I have conquered the world.”

The Holy Spirit dwelling in us keeps our spirits steady and at peace, even when our emotions are overwrought in turmoil, with this knowledge of Jesus’ final victory.

And He is also the Spirit of courage. When the disciples Paul encounters in the first reading finally have the opportunity to receive the Holy Spirit, the change is immediate and noticeable. They immediately begin speaking in tongues and prophesying. But perhaps the greatest manifestation of the Spirit in this reading is that of Paul himself, who preaches and debates in the synagogue with zero fear, proclaiming the Kingdom of God.

If we have the Holy Spirit, we have everything. Even if poor, we are rich.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Ask Jesus to pour out His Spirit upon you, not to protect you from the profoundly trying ups and downs of the world–like those experienced by the first disciples–but to fill you with His peace and courage to remain faithful in the midst of them. For Christ has conquered the world.

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Peace

Dwarf

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


In today’s gospel, Jesus tells His disciples, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you.
Not as the world gives do I give it to you.”

And the incredible power of that peace is what comes through in the first reading. Because of the explosion of the faith and the numbers of new converts around the time of Pentecost, we can falsely perceive that the faith spread easily in apostolic times, like fire across dry grass. Conversely, St. Paul compares the experience of birthing the faith in His audience to labor pains (cf. Gal. 4:19). Resistance to the Gospel, among Jewish and pagan leaders alike, is impossibly intense, and even where the Apostles are successful, the communities that form are not huge.

And yet, after being stoned and left for dead, St. Paul and his companions rejoice. The travel a wide circuit, and then return to the very location where the stoning occurred. They gather the Christian community together there and recount all the wonders that God has done.

It is not about a lack of hardship, or sheer numbers, that they are rejoicing. Their joy harkens back to Christ’s promise: “My peace I give you. Not as the world gives to I give it to you.” With their hearts united to their Master’s through the Holy Spirit, they see that through their fulfillment of His will, He is reaching those whom He has chosen, those who are prepared to receive His saving message. His will, the will of the sovereign Creator, is being accomplished, and this is enough to bring them great peace.

Is it enough for us to have peace as well? If not, the answer no doubt lies in drawing still closer to His Heart in our daily encounter with Him.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Ask Jesus to reveal to you the peace He wants to bring to your heart. Ask Him to remove the obstacles of attachment to your own will and any priorities that do not align to His, through a powerful indwelling of the Holy Spirit.

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Freedom!

Freedom

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


When we consider aberrations from the Christian life, we think of abuse of freedom, whereby we give our autonomy too much weight, and we turn our freedom to choose good into an arbitrary license to choose any and all options, regardless of their moral character, without consequences.

But in reality, many of the doctrinal errors within Christianity have come from a tendency to take away or cheapen human freedom.

Some branches of evangelical Protestantism, for example, believe that once we accept Christ in our life, we are no longer free to turn away from Him later in life. Also, the universalist heresy, present from the times of the early Church and in some potent forms still today, teaches that we are not free to choose to remain separated from God for eternity–rather, all are forced into heaven.

Truth is, God’s immense respect for the definitive freedom He has created in us inspires awe. Paul affirms its defining character very simply in today’s first reading: “Through it you are also being saved, if you hold fast to the word I preached to you.” We will be saved IF we choose with this mighty freedom to hold fast to the Gospel.

The reason there is a great tendency to cheapen and lessen the reality of our freedom is that it constitutes a great burden. We know our own fickleness and weakness. It can be argued that one of the great reasons for the plague of anxiety that so burdens the human race is our deep awareness that our own happiness depends on the use of our freedom. This, and the awareness that our will to choose the path to happiness is terribly weak, and our intellect for discerning that path, muddled.

Indeed, Catholics in particular are often derided for so-called “Catholic guilt”–ultimately, this burden of anxiety associated with acknowledgement of the full scope of our own freedom’s power.

So if the remedy to this burden is not to invent untruths about our freedom, to hide our head in the sand, what is it? It is there in black and white in today’s Gospel acclamation: “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest, says the Lord.”

And in the Gospel passage itself, in Jesus’ response to the woman who pours perfume on His feet.

When we develop a constant, consistent, and profound relationship with the Lord, where union with Him is the only priority, He Himself clarifies our intellect and strengthens our will through the critical sevenfold gifts of the Holy Spirit. It takes great commitment and work simply to give God time, to give Him our lives, every day. But the payoff is disproportionate. Holy souls live in the profound peace, not of relying on their own holiness or faculties, but of relying on this great Holy Spirit, who will never let them down.

Such souls live in the fullness of their own freedom to choose, exercised daily in their definitive choice for God, but they also live free of the burden of anxiety suffered by those who travel the road of freedom alone.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Ask Jesus for courage in the face of the daunting reality of your freedom, the use of which is definitive in determining your eternal destiny. Ask Him for the gifts of the Holy Spirit of wisdom and fortitude. Ask Him trustingly never to let you be parted from Him, and to be the strength of your mind and will in choosing Him forever.

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Bicker, Bicker

Seagulls

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


There is something of a sweet contrast today between the gospel and the first reading.

In the gospel, the disciples ask Jesus how to pray–and his answer is beguilingly simple. The version of the Our Father that we have before us simply praises our heavenly Father with the confidence of a son or a daughter, and asks for the basics that we’ll need for our day and for life–especially, that we not be tempted away from our relationship with God.

By contrast, in the first reading, we have an account of what seems like St. Paul and St. Peter bickering about a trifling little disciplinary rule about what kind of foods to eat, and in what company. The account reads almost a little gossipy: “Then he did this…” “And I told him right to his face not to be hypocritical…”

Upon first pass, the first reading appears uninspiringly earthly and human; the gospel, ethereal, simple, divine.

But wait, there is a link between the two! St. Peter is present in both! Maybe he is the problem!

In actuality, despite appearances, and despite His teaching about the seed falling among the thorns that are the cares and ambitions of this life, Jesus did not come to rid us of the annoying complexities of life. In fact, more broadly, He did not come to remove the taint of original sin that seems to make everything so difficult, complicated, and tiresome. In fact, when it comes to strictly avoiding a change to such things, we can almost imagine Jesus tiptoeing around, like a man carefully making his way through a cluttered bedroom to avoid waking his sleeping wife. Why? Because the reality of sin, with its consequences, is something that, as a race, we have freely chosen. He did not come to earth to revoke that freedom, but to provide an open door to choose God again.

If we feel the inclination to laugh at the tension arising between Peter and Paul, the laugh may die in our throat if we imagine how dumbfounded they would be at our modern obsession with taxes, business meetings, and renewal of our driver’s licenses and license plates. If we’re honest, our lives are much fuller of trifling complexities than theirs. And it’s precisely these sorts of trifles that get us into a bad mood and make us snippy with our neighbor.

Despite the apparent contrast between the tone of these readings, it is precisely into these daily laundry lists and trifles that the Our Father is meant to enter. We’re not called to skate above them, never touched by frustration over the fact, for example, that a meaningless but necessary task that should have taken an hour took a day. Rather, we are called to have an ongoing sense in our hearts of what is essential, even while experiencing that frustration, even while we’re deep in it–and to renew that perspective often–often, and consistently, in prayer, in time spent with God.

All things considered, Peter and Paul did a pretty good job. I’m giving them an “A.” Peter was concerned not to scandalize the Jewish Christians, and Paul was concerned not to act duplicitously and thus scandalize the Gentile Christians. The matter of what food to eat may appear trifling to us, but their concern was the salvation of souls. In fact, in another place, Paul says the following about eating: “Therefore, if food causes my brother to sin, I will never eat meat again, so that I may not cause my brother to sin.”

The stakes of this tension were actually quite high. But they hashed it out together, honestly and courageously, face to face, and ultimately preserved unity and forged forward.

If the saints experienced tensions, let’s not imagine some utopian life of easy and perfect relations for ourselves by reason of our Christianity. Jesus decided to take flesh and descend into the heart of our messy reality–so in our prayer life, let’s bring Him into everything, and by the invaluable power of the Holy Spirit, He will infuse into us the wisdom to make good decisions within the imperfect mess and the tensions, while ultimately keeping a healthy, eternal perspective–even amidst our frustrations.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Call to mind a recent moment of human interaction that frustrated you, perhaps with a loved one or coworker. While bearing that moment in mind, pray the Our Father over it, slowly. See how, while these moments and frustrations are inevitable, God can inject His grace, wisdom, and perspective into them. Ask Jesus to accompany you through the complexities of your day and to fill you with the virtue of Charity, of love, even in the midst of frustration over trivialities. For, as today’s psalm tells us, “steadfast is his kindness toward us, and the fidelity of the LORD endures forever.”

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