Tag: <span>Salvation</span>

November 23, 2020November 9, 2020

Lifeboat

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

In the first reading from Revelation, John describes those in Heaven as numbering one hundred and forty-four thousand. Whether or not that is the exact number to be saved, the fact that he cites a concrete number can make us pause and reflect: When all is said and done, the number of the saved will be a concrete number. Maybe it will be 127,239,151. Whatever it will be, it will be concrete, never to be changed–the most important number in the history of humanity. And we have the power to influence this number, to augment it, simply through our prayer, sacrifice, and daily self-offering to the Lord for others. And our works of evangelization and works of charity.

John uses a curious word when he talks about those who have followed the Lamb, and who are present in heaven: They have been “ransomed from the world.” This conjures an image of a world that holds prisoners captive, from which they must be rescued.

And so it is. The world holds so many captive with its shackles of pride, lust for power, greed, longing for sensual pleasures and comfort. Every day we decide anew to step onto the lifeboat of grace with which Jesus rescues us from these shackles. And every day we have the opportunity to help others onto that lifeboat.

Jesus marvels in today’s gospel at the woman who gives everything that she has, in contrast to those who give their surplus. She defies the captivity of the world and its allurements, making her life instead into a gift. Gift of self to God each day in prayer, gift of self to God each day in service to others–making a gift of our lives is the way not only to step onto the lifeboat ourselves, but to bring others aboard as well, and swell the numbers of those saved. 706 were saved from the sinking of the Titanic–once you have lived your life as a gift, how many will be added to the one important human number that will last forever: the number of those who have attained Heaven for eternity?

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Only God knows the number of those who will inhabit Heaven for eternity–but it is a concrete number, one which will be smaller or larger, depending on the way we live our lives. Ask Jesus His ideal for your life. How does He call you and hope for you to help Him “draw all people to Himself” (cf. Jn. 12:32)?

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November 9, 2020October 23, 2020

Wellsprings of Grace

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

Today we celebrate the Feast of the Dedication of the Lateran Basilica in Rome, which occurred in the year 324, not long after Christianity became legal in Rome.

Today’s readings are all about the Temple, and on this feast, we may say about the church building by extension.

The association throughout these readings of Temple with the body of the Christian, and Christ Himself, is mesmerizing. Jesus shows zeal for the Temple building in the Gospel passage, and then immediately goes on to speak of His body as the Temple. St. Paul tells us that our bodies as Christians are temples, with Christ as the foundation.

The first reading is profound in its significance, especially when joined with the other two. The fresh water presents a vivid foreshadowing of the saving grace of Christ, which turns the salt water–the human soul ruined by sin–into fresh water–the sanctified soul.

Leveraging St. Paul’s image, let us imagine that we are actually the superstructure of the Temple described in the first reading. The living water flows directly out from under the foundation of the Temple, from Christ. But as the singular Jewish Temple converts in Christianity to a multiplicity of churches, so too does each Christian, a temple built on the foundation of Christ, produce a new embodiment of Christianity, from which Christ’s grace flows as foundation.

Said more directly, the abundant grace of Jesus Christ flows in all its life-giving and redeeming power from the very existence of every holy Christian, whose “temple superstructure” occasions a new opportunity for the one foundation–Jesus Christ–to plant Himself and act in the world.

While there was only one act of salvation that produced sufficient saving grace for all, and one Savior, Jesus Christ, every holy Christian becomes a multiplier for that saving grace to flow out anew from a brand new dwelling for Christ in the world, a brand new wellspring of His infinite grace.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Contemplate how your life has the opportunity to augment the impact of Christ’s infinitely powerful saving grace in the world, and thank Him for making you a meaningful partner in His plan of salvation, which he didn’t have to do. Ask Him with urgency to consummate the work of sanctification in you, so that you magnify His impact in the world rather than lessening it.

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November 3, 2020October 17, 2020

The Blood of God

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

The dynamic of Christ’s saving act is awesome, filled with drama, and merits deep meditation and consideration. It is beautiful that we can undertake this reflection in the presence of, and in dialogue with, the very Person who is Protagonist of the act.

Prior to this act, there is a dynamic within the Blessed Trinity of self-outpouring and self-giving that feeds an eternal union, union which is the profound fulfillment of each of the three Persons.

It is said that to God, who is infinite, nothing can ever be added, and this is true.

Yet, upon the incarnation of God, a new ability was in a sense added: Added to the divine self-outpouring was the ability to suffer in that act of self-outpouring.

In one of the most beautiful readings in Scripture, today’s first reading, St. Paul poetically tells us that as a result of this, “God greatly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name.”

But Jesus didn’t take on this new ability, suffering, for His own exaltation. He took it on for ours. By the power of His saving act, He gives us this same dynamic: By pouring out our lives as He did in obedience to God for others, we attain that same eternal exaltation–in our human flesh, like Jesus–of which St. Paul speaks.

It is a breathless dynamic–one that takes us leagues outside our comfort zone. It is because of the great challenge that this dynamic involves for us that, according to Jesus in the Gospel, many souls decline from it. They find other things to do, other things to focus on. Without great fanfare, they decline the invitation of Jesus.

Contemplation of this reality should cause us sorrow and inspire us to fervent prayer and sacrifice for others, that God will give them absurd, gratuitous amounts of grace and stimulus to reconsider and accept His invitation, from which alone happiness comes.

But also, in a way, it should cause us excitement. The destiny to which God calls us and in fact brings us through Christ’s saving dynamic is not run-of-the-mill. It is a glorious one, one that merits God taking on the new ability to suffer, one that merits the very blood of God Himself.

Ideas for conversation with Jesus: Tell Jesus that you want to hear and follow His call in its fullness. That you don’t want to cheapen it in any way by cutting corners, or by giving in to mediocrity. Ask Him for the courage and strength to see your calling through to its utter fulfillment.

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October 21, 2020September 28, 2020

Saving Mission

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

Today’s readings combine in an interesting manner. In the first reading, in talking about his own special mission and how much he appreciates it, St. Paul illuminates not only the providential nature of his own calling, but the providential nature of the history of salvation. Paul clearly sees the entire unfolding of the Old Testament–patriarchs, prophets, kings, etc.–leading up to the culminating moment of salvation in Christ. But the drama doesn’t end there. After Christ, each Christian has a pre-planned role to play as well, and if indeed St. Paul is gifted with great clarity regarding his own, that of each Christian is no less clear in God’s eyes. And, while Paul’s role is particularly foundational for the Church as it forms the Gospel’s bridge to the gentiles, each Christian’s role is similarly critical because it involves a special call to help bring others–specific others, in God’s heart and mind–to their eternal salvation.

This is the service to which Jesus refers in the Gospel. There is a beautiful reference to God’s mercy for those who fail to live up to their calling due to ignorance. But make no mistake: The service that St. Paul performed, and which we too are called to perform, is deadly serious. There are no higher stakes than the eternal welfare of those for whom Jesus poured out His blood. These may be our children if we are married, our flock if we are priests, the recipients of our message if we are missionaries, but importantly–for all of us–those for whom we pray and offer the sacrifice of our daily gift of self to God in this broken world.

Not one of us here on earth, no matter what our circumstances, is deprived of the supreme means and supreme duty of prayer, self-giving, and sacrifice offered in union with the cross of Christ for the enlightenment of those who do not know Him, the strength of those too weak to follow Him, the rousing of the indifferent to enthusiasm for Christ, and the conversion of sinners.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Meditate on the mission of St. Paul. Preaching, missions, writing–the founding of the Church among the gentiles. Consider also, though, that perhaps 90% of his time was consumed in mundane and arduous tasks such as travel. He could have focused on this, rather than the enormity of privilege which was his calling in Christ. Now consider your own calling. Perhaps you think it inglorious by comparison. But is it possible that you undervalue it due to a lack of the eyes of faith? Ask Jesus to inflame your heart with passion for His mission of bringing persons back to Him, and a sense of gratitude for the privilege of cooperating with Him in it.

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October 13, 2020September 22, 2020

An Empty Glass Quenches No Thirst

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

Today we get a window into St. Paul’s mindset as he so vehemently contrasts attachment to the Mosaic Law and faith in Christ.

Apparently, some gentile converts to Christianity are actually getting themselves circumcised according to Jewish custom. In doing so, they are converting to Judaism as well as Christianity. St. Paul clearly sees this as an unnecessary hindrance, because in doing so, they then need to learn all the ins and outs of the very detailed Jewish law, which Paul sees as a distraction from their focus on Christ.

But to him, it is something more than a distraction as well. It is a dangerous tendency to believe that salvation partially comes from compliance with the law, as if one saves oneself, at least in part.

When speaking of Mosaic Law, it is often helpful for us Christians to focus on the Ten Commandments. In this context, on the other hand, the problem lies largely with all the detailed prescriptions that extend beyond those Commandments. These details helped form the national identity of the people of God over centuries. But with the help of the Holy Spirit, Paul has come to the realization that they don’t need to play a role for those outside of Judaism who find God and their source of temporal and eternal fulfillment in Christ.

Paul certainly dispenses no one from following the Commandments. Over and over again in his letters, he repudiates various behaviors that run contrary to them. But with equal passion, he cautions against any tendency to equate happiness, fulfillment, salvation, and sanctification with focus on compliance with the Law.

This message remains intensely relevant today. As we strive to purify our actions from sin, we can come to equate this action with our quest for happiness and salvation. Then, there can come a point where we feel like we are just refining, just tweaking in this purification process, no longer gouging out big habits of sin. We may come to wonder why we still feel spiritually restless and very imperfect and unworthy of God. The effect can be something like dry heaves when we are sick–we are still ill, but our body’s effort to purge itself by vomiting proves fruitless.

In such a situation, we can make the same mistake as Paul’s audience in today’s first reading. We can exacerbate the situation by doubling down on our efforts for external perfection, instead of realizing that the problem no longer resides as much with our voluntary actions.

Due to original sin and our personal sin, we are broken deep, deep inside ourselves in a way that can profoundly trouble us in our spiritual life, but which we cannot resolve through our personal ascetic efforts. When we discover this to be the case, we must double down, rather, on our prayer life–not necessary adding hours and hours of time, but rather striving to be as consistent as we can in our time dedicated to prayer each day. Because Jesus is like the sun. When we spend time with Him, not only does He “warm” us spiritually, He can “burn away” slowly those deeper roots of sin and conform our hearts more and more to Himself.

If this is a little bit frustrating, since these aspects of our purification lie outside our control, it is nonetheless very exciting, because the end result is a heart deeply united to Christ, without impediment.

But let us not make the mistake of the Pharisee in today’s Gospel passage, whom Jesus upbraids for his excessive focus on perfection in external compliance. Our Christian happiness will never come from perfection in the habits that we ourselves will control. If we are wise, our efforts for such perfection will lead to humility, because we’ll realize that we can never quite get it exactly right. If we are fools, we will become prideful and smug in our supposed sense of our own perfection, like the Pharisee. But in the end, happiness does not lie in perfection, any more than we can quench our thirst from a perfectly cleansed but empty glass. Only Christ Himself, and our relationship with Him, brings the fulfillment and happiness that we seek.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Ask Jesus to send you the Holy Spirit to understand where He wants you to combat sin in your life, and where, on the other hand, He wants you to detach yourself from the effort for external perfection and attach yourself to Him, His mercy, and His saving power. Ask Him above all to infuse you with supernatural Charity, to conform your heart to His, until His obsession with the welfare of your neighbor will infect you and eclipse excessive self-concern.

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October 11, 2020September 21, 2020

The Wedding Banquet

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

The readings today are all about God’s Providence. We see images of the eternal celebration that God has prepared for us, which in the first reading and the gospel is compared to a great feast. It is a feast of the best food and wine, and for this celebration God will wipe the tears off every face and destroy the veil, the web, the pall of misery that hangs over all the earth.

But then in the Gospel passage, we hear Jesus Christ repeating a theme of His–warning us in no uncertain terms that some people are not going to make it to the feast. There appear to be two reasons: Choice to ignore the invitation, and unsuitability.

In the parable Jesus uses to describe this, all the initial invitees choose to ignore the invitation. Think how you would feel if you were to plan a wedding celebration and NONE of those you invited were to come, despite multiple invitations.

Then, anyone and everyone from off the street is invited, and many come, but one arrives not dressed in wedding attire, and he is thrown out.

There are different ways we could interpret Jesus’ parable. Maybe those initially invited are the people of Israel of His day, who ultimately reject Him. Maybe, rather, the initial invitees are all of humanity upon creation; the invitation is rejected on behalf of all of us by Adam and Eve.

However one sees the various groups, however, it is clear that all of us, “bad and good” as the gospel says, wind up receiving an invitation to the banquet of Heaven, once Jesus has opened the invitation to us through His death and Resurrection. There are two reasons why we don’t ever see the inside of the banquet hall. One: We don’t choose to go. We put other priorities ahead of God, His will, and our relationship with Him in our lives, and we completely miss out.

The second reason is unsuitability, which also boils down to a choice. One of the banquet-goers in the parable chooses to come without the required style of dress, and is thrown out. He represents those of us who theoretically, hypothetically make a choice for Christ, but then do not actively choose to live the life of grace. Without sanctity, we do not enter Heaven.

The first reading is beautiful and consoling, as it describes what it will be like to participate in the feast God has prepared for us. The gospel is a bit more grim. Jesus lays a lot of emphasis on those who don’t make it. He’s not trying to discourage us. Rather, aware at how much is at stake for us, He is doing all He can to give us teaching to ensure that we will be among those counted at the feast.

But overall, again, the readings are about God’s Providence. the feast is prepared; it is there waiting for us. Nor are we left on our own to navigate there. As the psalm says, “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. In verdant pastures he gives me repose; beside restful waters he leads me; he refreshes my soul.” God Himself is shepherding us toward the banquet. All we need do is take His hand and allow Him to lead us there.

The road is a tough one. Sometimes it feels like we’ve got it all under control. Other times, we feel like we are floundering. But in one circumstance and the other, God is there for those who lean on them and ensures their eternal success. As St. Paul says in the second reading, “I have learned the secret of being well fed and of going hungry, of living in abundance and of being in need. I can do all things in him who strengthens me.“

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Ask Jesus to be your guide on the adventure of life. Commit to Him that you want His path, the path to the heavenly banquet. Ask Him to do whatever it takes to get you there, even if at some times that means living in want, or caring about the welfare of other so much that your heart bleeds. Lean on Him in your heart, and ask Him with trust to shepherd you home.

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October 9, 2020September 18, 2020

The Curse of God

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

In the first reading, St. Paul explains some beautiful theology about how only faith in God saves; abiding by the law cannot save anyone. Essentially, the best you can do by keeping the law is a non-negative. By following the law, even, we may say, the Ten Commandments, the best we can do is avoid heaping additional condemnation (“curse”) on ourselves through additional sin.

Since following the law cannot save, the implication is that condemnation is already upon us, even before we transgress the law for the first time. This is the doctrine of original sin.

When Paul says that faith alone saves, he is not saying that whether or not we follow the Ten Commandments does not matter. Rather, he is saying that a non-negative isn’t going to get us out of the rut of condemnation we’re already in. We need the “strong man” from today’s Gospel passage, God Himself in the flesh, to go beyond the non-negative to a net positive–to blow the doors of the cell of condemnation in which we have enclosed ourselves through sin, and release us to be free in Him once more.

And this salvation comes free of charge–all we need is to believe in it, to have faith like that of Abraham.

When speaking about the curse hanging over us from which Christ saves us, St. Paul uses a striking image: “Cursed be everyone who hangs on a tree.” (Cf. Dt. 21:23) In the book of Deuteronomy, a book of the law, it is mandated that a corpse hanged on a pole for a capital offense not be left overnight, because a corpse hanging on a tree is a curse of God.

The capital offender has done what St. Paul describes. He has heaped condemnation upon himself by the most grievous offense of the law. As such, his corpse on display represents God’s curse.

But in reference to this passage from Deuteronomy, Paul emphasizes that “Christ ransomed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us” by becoming the one whose corpse hangs from the tree. By becoming the curse of God. No wonder Christ utters those mysterious words from the cross, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” (cf. Mt. 27:46) He has taken the place of the capital offender and, hanging from the tree, has become the curse of God. “For our sake,” Paul tells us elsewhere in arguably the most striking statement in all his writings, the Father “made him to be sin who did not know sin, so that we might become the righteousness of God in him.”

This is the degree of the love of God for us.

So when you call out to Him with a need, will He not hear you?

So it is, as today’s Alleluia verse tells us, that “The prince of this world will now be cast out, and when I am lifted up from the earth I will draw all to myself, says the Lord.”

In today’s Gospel passage, Jesus explains why he can’t be casting out demons by the power of another demon. The demon is safe from expulsion until one stronger than he–that is, not another demon, on the same plane of power as he–comes along. Only when one stronger comes along, Jesus, the Son of God, is the demon cast out. (cf. Jn 12:31-32)

Today’s gospel thus explains the dynamic described by St. Paul. In the act of becoming the curse of God, and thus removing our curse, Jesus is the strong man by whom “the prince of this world will now be cast out.” And so it is that, lifted up to the earth, as the condemned man on the tree, the curse of God, Jesus draws all men to Himself, and grants them the free gift of salvation that they could never achieve on their own, even through perfect fulfillment of the law.

If God the Father is the Creator, and Christ the Redeemer, then Christ’s Redemption is the the Father’s most awe-inspiring creation in the history of the universe.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Gaze at a crucifix and behold the curse of God: Christ voluntarily become sin to save you. When we do not trust in Christ’s power and love for us, it is like the slap in the face that the soldier gave him before the Sanhedrin (cf. Jn. 18:22). Ask Jesus to help you to love Him by trusting in His mercy for you, and by trusting in His power to direct your life on the path of happiness.

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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 12, 2020August 27, 2020

The Cup of Salvation

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

In today’s gospel, Jesus talks about building on solid rock by acting on His teachings, unlike the foolish builder who builds on sand, whose building is ultimately destroyed by the forces of nature. Christians build a vulnerable spiritual building, destined to destruction, when they do not ground that building on the rock of a committed life lived in accord with Jesus’ teachings.

We see this in the world today. Many of those with whom we come in contact are “good” people–honest-to-goodness nice people, with whom we enjoy a positive relationship of mutual good will. But of these, many unfortunately feel the attraction of the Christian message, but consciously avoid adopting it in its fullness. They build their houses on sand. Why? Because of one word: Sacrifice.

The Psalmist asks today “How shall I make a return to the LORD for all the good he has done for me?” And his response: “The cup of salvation I will take up, and I will call upon the name of the LORD.”

There are beautiful layers to this psalm, in the light of the New Testament. In a very real way, the answer to our quandary about how to “repay” the Lord for what He has done for us is to take up the Eucharist, prefigured in the psalm by the cup. We can repay Him by taking up, that is, receiving, the sacrament of salvation–and thus, by making His sacrifice for us fruitful. It is not so much a “repayment” as a bringing to fulfillment His gift by letting it come to fulfillment in us.

But this also means taking up our own allotted cup of sacrifice, the sacrifice of faithfulness to our Christian life by giving up our lives in the day-to-day for others within our vocation. “My cup you will indeed drink,” Jesus tells his disciples James and John in Mt. 20:23. Indeed we are to drink to the dregs the cup of sacrifice allotted to each of us in our own life, in imitation of and collaboration with our Master.

Ah, but there’s the rub. That’s the one step that is so difficult for many to take. Jesus wants us to lose our life in order to find it (cf. Mt. 16:25). Not easy. Many otherwise good and nice people simply decline.

But the entire first reading teaches us something important in this regard. You can’t have it both ways. You can’t be a Christian without the personal sacrifice. As Paul poignantly points out, you can’t participate in the Eucharistic table and then sacrifice to demons by remaining in selfishness. With Christ, it is all or nothing.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Think about the relationship between Jesus’ Cup of Sacrifice in the Eucharist, and the sacrifice of your own personal gift of self to your vocation and to others in the day to day. And how you can offer your cup of sacrifice in your heart with the mundane gifts of bread and wine that go to the priest’s altar each day, and receive the body, blood, soul, and divinity–Jesus’ sacrificial gift to you–in return. Adore Him, praise Him for the incredible, disproportionate “economy of gift” that He has set up for you because He loves you.

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September 11, 2020August 27, 2020

Dr. Livingstone, I Presume

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

There is something beautiful but mysterious about the reading from St. Paul this morning. He says, “All this I do for the sake of the Gospel, so that I too may have a share in it,” and later, “I drive my body and train it, for fear that, after having preached to others, I myself should be disqualified.”

Paul speaks in the reading as becoming a slave for others, all things to all, that at least some may be saved. But then he almost speaks as an outsider looking in, one who would like to have a share in the Gospel, one who considers himself at some risk of being disqualified.

St. Paul clearly does not suffer from one of the sins that most characterizes the Church in our age. Perhaps the sin of the later period of the early Church was heresy; perhaps that of the Middle Ages was worldly ambition; perhaps that of the Renaissance was decadence; and perhaps one of the sins that most characterizes today’s Church is presumption of salvation.

St. Paul stumbles upon no such pitfall. He is well aware of his weakness. He knows that in the end, eternal salvation is dependent upon faithfulness, and he does not take his own faithfulness for granted. Still, he keeps on with joy and optimism, because He is passionately in love with Jesus Christ and trustingly places his eternal welfare in His hands.

In the Gospel passage today, Jesus talks about not worrying so much about others faults as examination of our own–or more precisely, he does not prohibit correcting faults in others, but urges us to place priority on our own, which tend to be much larger than we initially assess them to be.

St. Paul’s hesitancy to presume on his own salvation shows that he has taken Jesus’ words well to heart.

But perhaps the question arises: How are we to trust fully in the Lord, if we don’t presume a little? Conversely, how are we to avoid presumption, if we don’t take on responsibility for our own lives, rather than abandoning them into the hands of Jesus?

Once again, St. Paul’s attitude borne out in this and all his letters provides us with the answer. “I know him in whom I have believed.” Paul can be content and undisturbed, with his life completely abandoned into the hands of Jesus Christ, because he trusts not in an outcome but in a person. He knows how much Jesus loves him. and he entrusts everything to that love, with (frankly) something of a “damn-the-torpedoes” attitude toward everything else.

Many in today’s Church presume that God will save them and pretty much everyone else, without really focusing on their relationship with God at all. Their priorities lie elsewhere, in comfort and worldly ambition, and they assume God will usher them into heaven because He’s such a nice guy, because He is merciful. The gloss over the obvious fact in Scripture and all Church Tradition that the manifestation of that mercy is the second chance afforded through Christ’s sacrifice–not in any guarantee or pseudo-guarantee that we’re all going to make it.

Ultimately, even though trust can sometimes look like presumption, the reality is that they are night-and-day different. Indeed, trust (rather than fear) is the only real antidote to presumption. Trust means prioritizing our relationship with God through real daily time dedicated to prayer, frequent sacramental life, avoidance of sin, and acts of love throughout our day, and in this way really abandoning all other priorities (even the priority of our own salvation) over to His care. It frees us from presumption, which is the casual assumption that God doesn’t care if He’s an afterthought, the last priority on our list.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: The Church defines “perfect contrition” as being sorry to God not out of fear of consequences, but out of sorrow for having hurt Him whom we love. Similarly, a perfect life is one lived not in fear or presumption, but saturated in loving, trusting focus of our attention and priorities on God. This is not something we can achieve on our own–not even close. In dialogue with Jesus, ask Him to fill you with the theological virtues of faith, hope, and love. Ask Him to take control of your relationship with Him and do whatever it takes to bring it where He wants to take it.

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