The “Who” Behind The “How”

Who

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


Science, in all its aspects, is wonderful. Human eyes have found a way penetrate into the minute subtleties of reality and discover, not only how they function, but how to combine and adjust them for healing and for technological breakthroughs.

Science has told us much about our micro-reality, and much also about our macro-reality, including the positioning of the earth in the midst of a vast solar system and a universe that is much vaster still.

It has revealed to us secrets about the code defining all life, DNA, and the processes by which the miraculous biological phenomenon/process sustains itself without external drivers.

Science tells us the “how” of nature, but it does not tell us the “who.” It is not just the existence of the material world that begs the question, “who made it.” Nor is it just the complex variability. It is the intelligibility of the universe, especially such incredibly harmonious and impossibly coordinated elements as the self-sustaining process of life, that begs the question, “who.” Far from there existing any conflict between this question and science, the very foundation of science–the wondrous intelligibility of the universe–is precisely what bids us seek out the Mastermind.

As it happens, given that we have a personal God who in various ways has reached out to us, the investigation of this “who” is not itself properly speaking a scientific one. Rather, we have the luxury of its being a relational investigation: a “getting to know you,” so to speak.

The author of today’s first reading has enjoyed some form of this interpersonal connection. He speaks of God in the most personal tones, as he praises the work of His hands. In all of the daunting complexity and splendor of nature, he recognizes the craft of this Person.

In today’s gospel, this encounter becomes much more intimate, as Bartimaeus receives from the hands of Jesus the healing of his blindness. He who formed the very concept of the eyeball and its function of apprehending nature so marvelously restores, person to person, the sight of this blind man.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: In today’s meditation, consider for a moment that you have the opportunity to meet and interact personally with the Creator of the universe. Pick an element of creation that particularly inspires awe for you, and think, that the One who came up with the very idea for that awe-inspiring creation–and the way to make it a reality–wants to engage in friendship with you. Praise Him for His work.

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The Lion, the Calf, the Man, and the Eagle

Four Evangelists

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


The particular, personal role of each of His disciples in the plan of salvation is precious in the eyes of the Lord. In today’s first reading, we have the four living creatures presented: Man, ox, lion, eagle. St. Irenaeus is the one credited with first identifying in these images the Four Evangelists, the writers of the gospels. Each image beautifully brings out something special about the evangelist in question.

St. Matthew is associated with the man (sometimes depicted as a winged man, like an angel). His gospel brings out the human lineage of Christ, thereby emphasizing the fact that Jesus was truly man, with all that this implies.

St. Mark is associated with the lion. He emphasizes the prophetic announcement of John the Baptist, the “voice crying out in the desert.” Mark brings out the prophetic nature of Jesus’ mission, like that of a lion roaring.

St. Luke is associated with the bull or ox, with a nod to the calf from today’s reading. He begins his gospel with the sacrificial duties of Zechariah in the temple, and with Mary’s sacrificial obedience at the Annunciation and the Holy Family’s sacrificial offering in the Temple at the Presentation, which are foreshadowings of Jesus’ priestly sacrifice on the cross. The ox/bull/calf represents Luke’s emphasis on the sacrificial nature of the mission of Christ and, by extension, every Christian.

Finally, St. John is associated with the eagle. In his gospel, John ascends into the loftiest contemplation of the divine mysteries associated with Jesus, for example, in his contemplation at the beginning of his gospel of the eternal Word becoming flesh. The eagle represents the spiritual heights to which John soars.

The Holy Spirit so cherished each of these individual nuances and roles that He immortalized them in Scripture–not only in today’s reading from Revelation, but also in Old Testament prophecy (cf. Ez. 1:5-14).

Often, we rightly consider today’s Gospel passage, the parable of the talents, in the light of guarding against falling short of what God expects of us in the cultivation of our resources for fruit in evangelization and salvation. But we also see here a reflection of the cherished personal character of each individual’s mission, character, and trajectory in the Christian life, displayed in the distinct personal gift of “talents” that God makes to each servant.

What does Jesus cherish about your particular role in His plan of salvation? What gifts has He given you for the fulfillment of His plan, and how would He like them to be employed?

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Consider your particular vocation, and also the themes that come up for you again and again in your contemplative prayer. Ask Jesus how these play into what He particularly cherishes about the divine work He is performing in you, and your role in helping bring others to Him. Ask Him to help you grow in wisdom concerning the implementation of your gifts in His service.

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The Engine of Charity

Engine

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


Sometimes St. Paul’s life presents itself, humanly speaking, as something of a lonely affair. He pours himself out continuously for others, “like a libation” (cf. 2 Tim 4:6), but he is unable to receive much affection in return: He travels too much to set down roots, and he lives in the midst of constant hardship and, ultimately, persecution.

And against this backdrop, consider the delicate sensitivity of his kindness and concern for others as expressed in the first reading. He is willing to forego eating meat because for some, the temptation to believe in idols is still very strong, and meat is the stuff of sacrifice to those idols.

His words clearly emphasize how important it is to consider the subjective situation of souls, even souls in error, when evangelizing. There are some in the Church that really believe that, if we are to be faithful, we must preach the bare, unvarnished truth in all its harshness without concern for others’ state, and let anyone who can’t take it “suck it up.” We sometimes forget that the reason Jesus Christ descended to earth and became man, and dragged a cross up a hill dripping in blood, was not to defend the unvarnished truth–but to make it accessible to people once again. And we forget how delicately and mercifully He has treated us in our own sin and error, and coaxed us toward the truth in a way respectful of our freedom and limitations.

Back to St. Paul. How did he keep giving so passionately, so selflessly, with such great sensitivity, in the midst of the physical and emotional harshness he endured every day? The answer lies in the Gospel.

In today’s Gospel passage, Jesus talks about extremes of charity (that is, selfless love of others) of the sort that St. Paul would come to embody. And He reveals at the end of the passage how such a lifestyle is sustainable. When you give yourself 100% to God, without holding anything back, and recklessly dedicate your whole life in His honor to the love and care of others, “gifts will be given to you; a good measure, packed together, shaken down, and overflowing, will be poured into your lap.”

His intimate, personal love for us is that “good measure.” It is real. In a life that includes even a short period of daily contemplative prayer and frequent reception of the sacraments, that love is something we can experience right here on earth. It is something as powerful as it is subtle. It is so powerful that it is the only sustenance we need in a rugged life entirely given over to passionate striving for the welfare of others.

The life of reckless charity powered by Jesus’ personal, intimate love for us could not be more distantly removed from the pitiful life of those who set no boundaries and exhaust their lives “in service of others” motivated by the hopeless longing for some crumb of kindness, some word of recognition, from the ungrateful people they serve, who only disdain them in their emotional neediness.

Reckless charity like that of St. Paul is given from a position of strength that comes from the most fulfilling and intimate relationship of love with the only One who can never disappoint.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Ask Jesus to help you persevere in prayer and grant you in His time the full experience of an intimate relationship with Him, which involves purification and crosses, but also the greatest of joy. Ask Him to be the engine that powers in you a life completely given over to charity, that is, to passionate effort for the welfare of those around you.

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