Dead Tree

Dead Tree

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


Sometimes what we see in Scripture can frustrate us because its meaning for us is not immediately clear.

The narrative of Jesus cursing the fig tree can occasion such frustration. Why is Jesus being “cruel and unfair” to this tree by cursing it for not bearing fruit, when fig fruit is out of season?

Yet, instances where Scripture is unclear can be an invitation to persons of faith to delve deeper, under the surface, asking God in humble dialogue for illumination, to understand the lessons He has for us there.

As we contemplate the cursing of the fig tree, what elements should we consider as we strive to get a glimpse of what is Jesus’ heart?

A natural place to start is Jesus’ own explanation of His actions, when such is to be found. And indeed, today we have Jesus reacting by way of explanation–or at least partial explanation–to Peter noting that the fig tree has dried up.

Jesus talks about the power of prayer: That the omnipotence of the Divinity itself is at our fingertips when we ask for God’s action in humble prayer. So, we can infer that at least part of what moved Jesus to cause the withering of the fig tree was the desire to teach His disciples–and us–that God is master of nature, and that our prayer can affect nature itself.

This alone could feed a great period of meditation. What is the object of our prayer? What are we permitted to ask God to do, and expect a result? It is not limited to asking for spiritual benefits for ourselves and our neighbor, though this is important. In this passage, Jesus gives us explicit permission to pray for God to move and transform nature, implying further that if what we ask for does not come to pass, it may be because we lack faith in the power and will of God to move nature on our behalf. We should be bold and confident in our prayer–even a little “presumptuous” that God will do what we ask, even if it is somewhat spectacular, barring a significant reason for not fulfilling our request. How often do we pray with this kind of confidence–the confidence with which Jesus applied divine power to the fig tree?

But an unanswered question remains: Why did Jesus use destructive force on the tree, when it was simply unfruitful due to the season of the year?

Better for one tree to wither, than for centuries of apostles to be surprised at losing their eternal salvation because they failed to bear fruit for Jesus, regardless of excuses of seasonality and convenience.

Jesus was issuing a none-too-subtle palpable warning that, as He states elsewhere, “Anyone who does not remain in me will be thrown out like a branch and wither; people will gather them and throw them into a fire and they will be burned.” (Jn. 15:6)

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Ask Jesus to show you the way to remain in Him and bear fruit; ask Him to show you His will and to help you to follow it regardless of the cost.

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Laser Focus

Laser Eye

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


“I will love them freely,” says God through the prophet Hosea in the first reading. His all-powerful, tender, effective, fruitful, refreshing love will be poured out on His people without measure.

Rarely do we find more enthusiastic imagery in the words Jesus, than those He uses when He describes this outpouring of divine love: “A good measure, packed together, shaken down, and overflowing, will be poured into your lap.” (cf. Lk. 6:38)

Lent is a time for purification from attachments to created things, our own ideas, our own feelings, that hold our will, even at the expense of our faithfulness to God. It is a time for purification from attachments, so that we may access this divine outpouring.

But if it is a time for detachment, it is even more a time for increased attachment–attachment to God, as the humble and wise scribe in today’s gospel articulates:

He is One and there is no other than he.
And to love him with all your heart,
    with all your understanding, 
    with all your strength,
    and to love your neighbor as yourself

is worth more than all burnt offerings and sacrifices.

It would appear that this scribe had tasted God somewhere along the way, both because of his clear understanding of the primacy of loving God and neighbor, and because in speaking of the “worth” of the love of God, he seems to be speaking from personal experience.

And that is just it. Detachment alone does not lead us to God. If we do not experience God and attach ourselves to Him, we become like the heart Jesus compares to a house, saying that when it is all cleaned out, it merely becomes a more welcoming place for worse demons to come and reside (cf. Mt. 12:43-45).

Attachment to God, based on experience of God. Experience of God requires something so simple that it is almost silly: Dedication of time each day, say, a half hour, for dialogue with Him in prayer. If we open our hearts to Him with consistency, He will not fail to fill our hearts with love for Him–attachment to Him.

So it is that, in addition to fasting and self-denial, the Church urges us to increase our prayer during Lent.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Ask Jesus to help you to understand the attraction of loving God, and to help you with His Spirit to attain an authentic attachment to God above all things. Tell Him that you cannot attain this on your own through edifying readings, attendance at church, or any other means. Ask Him to generously infuse this love into your heart.

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Burning Love

Fire

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


They say that some old couples who have been married many years begin even to look like each other.

Much more so the saints, who have consistently dedicated time every day to draw near to God. They do not just begin to “look” like Him–the divine love which burns in Christ’s heart begins to burn in theirs as well; spontaneously, they handle each situation with the very love and attitude of Christ.

We have vivid evidence of this in today’s reading from St. Paul, who is undertaking the simple task of transferring a Christian from his own service back to that of Philemon. In the letter accompanying the transfer, he says:

“So if you regard me as a partner, welcome him as you would me. And if he has done you any injustice or owes you anything, charge it to me. I, Paul, write this in my own hand: I will pay.”

In this simple act, Paul’s attitude beautifully mirrors Christ’s attitude toward you and me in the very act of our redemption: “If he owes you anything, charge it to me. I will pay. Welcome him as you would me.”

If we understood the enrichment of heart that awaits us, we would not miss a day of contemplative prayer. And yet, since even under intense exposure to the grace of God, our hearts grow at the pace of grass in the noonday sun, it often takes real faith to trust that God is working our transformation when we do not deserve it.

When our faith in this interior transformation is weak, we look outside to try to see signs that God is transforming the world. We look for signs in the political sphere. When all the while, as Christ tells us in today’s gospel, “Behold, the Kingdom of God is among you.”

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Read the first reading in the light of Christ’s redemption, seeing Christ’s attitude toward us reflected in Paul’s attitude toward Onesimus. Would you like to have a heart like that–so spontaneously conforming to the love of Christ? Ask Jesus for the gift of perseverance in prayer. Ask Him to be your strength as you strive to be faithful to your daily touch points with Him, so that your heart will burn with the same love for others that characterizes Jesus Christ, and which He shares with His intimates.

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On Board for Launch

Space Shuttle

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


There is a rocket-like thrust in all of Scripture. Scripture is not a philosophy book about the nature of what is. It is a guide for a participation in a massive launch. A launch that takes us from time into eternity.

There is arguably no more prevalent theme in Jesus’ preaching than our eternal destiny: What favors it, and what puts it at risk. Today’s gospel follows this theme, essentially warning us not to be like servants who fall asleep on the job–getting cozy and comfy in our reality in time. But rather, always ready for eternity–always focusing what we do, think, love, and in fact, what we are, on that horizon. And he emphasizes something bracing and beautiful about the reality of entering eternity: It comes in a single, abrupt moment, like the Master knocking on the door upon His return.

This eternal horizon is the backdrop of St. Paul’s, well, congratulations, if you will, of the Ephesians–gentiles–for entering into the covenant of God’s people Thanks to the unifying, expansive saving act of Christ, the gentiles are no longer outsiders. They’re part of God’s “in” crowd.

Especially in today’s polarized political context, we may be accustomed to thinking about people in terms of “us” and “them,” not so differently from the way Israelites may have in the Old Testament. Against the horizon of eternity, it is not the will of the great Unifier, Jesus Christ, that any of the “them” should be lost.

If we are concerned for our own eternal destiny–and we should be, because it depends on the choices of our freedom–should we not be concerned for that of the “them”? How much time/energy do we spend praying and sacrificing for the eternal salvation of persons, perhaps especially those we may consider inimical to God’s saving message?

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Use your imagination and/or capacity for analysis to conjure a clear image of what you consider the “them” in your life. Place them in your heart on a paten, and offer them to Jesus Christ on the cross, asking Him, by His all-powerful sacrifice, to inject miraculous grace into their hearts so that they may discover and embrace Him.

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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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