God's greatest demonstration of His omnipotence was His free choice not to exercise His omnipotence.
To have power and not to use it - this is the essence of true freedom.
Human beings are rarely capable of such freedom. We see the demonstration of power as freedom, so we think we are more free the more we demonstrate our power. And it becomes an addiction: we clutch at power, we grasp at it, we fight for it, we want to show it off when we have it. We fail to see that we are no longer free, but slaves to power.
But to have the opportunity to grasp power - and not to grasp it; to have the opportunity to use power - but not to use it - this is true power, this is true freedom.
That is why Jesus said the first must be last, the master must become the servant. To become like God, we must show that we are not slaves to power.
The test is always: are we serving God and others? In other words: is power being put at the service of love? For power must be made subservient to love. Power is not the ultimate value; love is. And sometimes this means power must not exercise itself if its exercise would contradict the working of love.
Love is why God "emptied Himself" of His power, making Himself vulnerable and contingent to time and space, making Himself susceptible to change and injury and death. This happened most dramatically at the Incarnation, but the Incarnation was not the only time in human history that God has chosen this kenosis. In all His interactions with mankind, God gives up His power and places it at the service of His love. We see it in His conversations with Adam and Eve, with Abraham, with Moses. He is willing to sacrifice His right to exercise His power because He loves them. He is willing to make Himself subject to the whims of mankind because He loves them. The transcendent God makes Himself immanent out of love for us - a desire to be close to us. The impassible God makes Himself passible - He suffers out of love for us. In His omnipotence this is the choice He makes. He chooses to remember us.
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Real-World Marriage
A few of my former high school students have posted a link to this article on Facebook recently: "23 Things To Do Instead of Getting Engaged Before You're 23." As someone who did get married when she was 23, I immediately felt a little defensive when I read the title. But when I read the article I wanted to laugh at the author's characterization of marriage. Considering her naive understanding of what marriage entails, it's probably good that this author isn't considering marriage for herself anytime soon.
"Someday I want to get married too," the author says. "I want a floor-length dress with a ton of cleavage. I want it to be in Asia, with Ethiopian food, and a filthy scotch selection to calm my nerves." Sweetheart, I hate to break it to you, but you're describing a wedding, not a marriage. What you really want is a wedding. If you think that floor-length dress in an Asian venue with Ethiopian food and scotch describes a marriage, you've got a huge surprise ahead of you. And please - don't get married anytime soon, until you've corrected this misunderstanding.
If you really wanted a marriage, you'd say: "I want arguments with my spouse about how to divvy up the housework, I want to feel jealous and angry about how much time my husband spends at work, I want to deal with him feeling angry and jealous about how much time I spend at work, I want to spend my nights staying up with a screaming child, I want to argue with my spouse about whose turn it is to skip work when the kids are sick, I want to feel neglected and lonely at times, I want to fight for my right to my own space at other times, I want to sacrifice what I want to do for the good of the family, I want fights about which set of in-laws to spend the holidays with, I want worry and anxiety and stress and heartbreak and tears."
You'd also say: "I want to become a less selfish, more giving person; I want the deep joy that comes from building and nurturing a family; I want the love that can only come after suffering through stressful times with another person."
The problem is that many 23-year-olds, like this author, confuse the wedding with the marriage. She is certainly right to say that for many people marrying young is an impulsive and perhaps not wholly wise decision. However, I don't think the alternatives she suggests in her list of twenty-three things to do are going to help young people learn the wisdom and maturity necessary to become ready for a marriage. Make out with a stranger? Stand naked in front of a window? Date two people at once? If you're going to suggest alternatives to what you perceive as an immature act, perhaps your alternatives should not be other immature - and possibly even hurtful - acts. And if, as the author claims, she truly wants a marriage one day, she's going to have to prepare herself with better behaviors than these.
And for some young people, marrying young is not impulsive or unwise. I object to the notion that marriage means "settling down" or even "settling." And I absolutely object to her implication that marriage means the "end of all fun experiences." For goodness' sake, half of her suggestions could still be done even when you're married! Married people are in bands, travel the world, bake cakes, have pets, do CrossFit, write in blogs, and so on. Why does she think this will end when she gets married?
Nor are any of the items on her list as challenging or difficult - or as rewarding and life-giving - as marriage is. She says that marriage means "hiding behind your significant other" instead of "dealing with life's ups and downs"? Please! I didn't know what life's "ups and downs" really meant until I got married and had kids! She thinks marriage means "hiding from the big scary world"? Marriage is the big scary world! It's a world of self-sacrifice and self-giving. It's a world of relentless demands on one's time and generosity. It requires the humility to learn from another person, to admit when you're wrong, to say you're sorry. It requires the strength to fight for your spouse, for your children, to stand with them and beside them. It means dealing not only with your own problems, but taking on theirs as well. The reason the divorce rate is so high is precisely because marriage is so difficult and challenging, and - if this article is any indication - no one is teaching young people how to rise to this challenge. If marriage, as this author seems to believe, were truly a matter of comfortably hiding from the world, why would anyone want to leave its safe confines? Her married friends are experiencing the "real world" far more fully than she is. It seems to me that she's the one who's scared.
Marriage has pushed me beyond my boundaries far more than any of her twenty-three suggestions would. Marriage has, indeed, been the biggest challenge of my life. Every day it demands that I put aside my own selfishness and put another's concerns ahead of my own. It has forced me to overcome jealousy and envy, pettiness and pride. It has taught me how to compromise and to truly listen to another person. It has taught me empathy and made me more compassionate. It has taught me how to be committed to something through thick and thin - and believe me, there's been a lot of "thick" to overcome - rather than giving up at the first sign of inconvenience to myself or my own plans. It has taught me how to find blessings in unexpected places. It has taught me gratitude and given me joy - the joy of building something lasting with another human being. In short it has made me a better person. And I don't see her twenty-three suggestions doing that for anyone.
"Someday I want to get married too," the author says. "I want a floor-length dress with a ton of cleavage. I want it to be in Asia, with Ethiopian food, and a filthy scotch selection to calm my nerves." Sweetheart, I hate to break it to you, but you're describing a wedding, not a marriage. What you really want is a wedding. If you think that floor-length dress in an Asian venue with Ethiopian food and scotch describes a marriage, you've got a huge surprise ahead of you. And please - don't get married anytime soon, until you've corrected this misunderstanding.
If you really wanted a marriage, you'd say: "I want arguments with my spouse about how to divvy up the housework, I want to feel jealous and angry about how much time my husband spends at work, I want to deal with him feeling angry and jealous about how much time I spend at work, I want to spend my nights staying up with a screaming child, I want to argue with my spouse about whose turn it is to skip work when the kids are sick, I want to feel neglected and lonely at times, I want to fight for my right to my own space at other times, I want to sacrifice what I want to do for the good of the family, I want fights about which set of in-laws to spend the holidays with, I want worry and anxiety and stress and heartbreak and tears."
You'd also say: "I want to become a less selfish, more giving person; I want the deep joy that comes from building and nurturing a family; I want the love that can only come after suffering through stressful times with another person."
The problem is that many 23-year-olds, like this author, confuse the wedding with the marriage. She is certainly right to say that for many people marrying young is an impulsive and perhaps not wholly wise decision. However, I don't think the alternatives she suggests in her list of twenty-three things to do are going to help young people learn the wisdom and maturity necessary to become ready for a marriage. Make out with a stranger? Stand naked in front of a window? Date two people at once? If you're going to suggest alternatives to what you perceive as an immature act, perhaps your alternatives should not be other immature - and possibly even hurtful - acts. And if, as the author claims, she truly wants a marriage one day, she's going to have to prepare herself with better behaviors than these.
And for some young people, marrying young is not impulsive or unwise. I object to the notion that marriage means "settling down" or even "settling." And I absolutely object to her implication that marriage means the "end of all fun experiences." For goodness' sake, half of her suggestions could still be done even when you're married! Married people are in bands, travel the world, bake cakes, have pets, do CrossFit, write in blogs, and so on. Why does she think this will end when she gets married?
Nor are any of the items on her list as challenging or difficult - or as rewarding and life-giving - as marriage is. She says that marriage means "hiding behind your significant other" instead of "dealing with life's ups and downs"? Please! I didn't know what life's "ups and downs" really meant until I got married and had kids! She thinks marriage means "hiding from the big scary world"? Marriage is the big scary world! It's a world of self-sacrifice and self-giving. It's a world of relentless demands on one's time and generosity. It requires the humility to learn from another person, to admit when you're wrong, to say you're sorry. It requires the strength to fight for your spouse, for your children, to stand with them and beside them. It means dealing not only with your own problems, but taking on theirs as well. The reason the divorce rate is so high is precisely because marriage is so difficult and challenging, and - if this article is any indication - no one is teaching young people how to rise to this challenge. If marriage, as this author seems to believe, were truly a matter of comfortably hiding from the world, why would anyone want to leave its safe confines? Her married friends are experiencing the "real world" far more fully than she is. It seems to me that she's the one who's scared.
Marriage has pushed me beyond my boundaries far more than any of her twenty-three suggestions would. Marriage has, indeed, been the biggest challenge of my life. Every day it demands that I put aside my own selfishness and put another's concerns ahead of my own. It has forced me to overcome jealousy and envy, pettiness and pride. It has taught me how to compromise and to truly listen to another person. It has taught me empathy and made me more compassionate. It has taught me how to be committed to something through thick and thin - and believe me, there's been a lot of "thick" to overcome - rather than giving up at the first sign of inconvenience to myself or my own plans. It has taught me how to find blessings in unexpected places. It has taught me gratitude and given me joy - the joy of building something lasting with another human being. In short it has made me a better person. And I don't see her twenty-three suggestions doing that for anyone.
Friday, December 20, 2013
The Queen Foretold
Mary was foreshadowed in the great mothers of the people of Israel: in Sarah, in Rebecca, in Hannah. But in the Office of Readings today St. Bernard's sermon on the Annunciation brought to mind another Old Testament woman who foreshadows Mary: Queen Esther.
Bernard writes: "We. . . are waiting, O Lady, for your word of compassion; the sentence of condemnation weighs heavily upon us. The price of our salvation is offered to you. We shall be set free at once if you consent. . . Tearful Adam with his sorrowing family begs this of you, O loving Virgin. . . Abraham begs it, David begs it. All the other holy patriarchs, your ancestors, ask it of you, as they dwell in the country of the shadow of death. This is what the whole earth waits for, prostrate at your feet." One can hear the plea of Mordecai, of the Jews, as they waited to know whether Esther would approach the king and beg for the redemption of her people.
Seeing Mary as typified by Esther allows new insight into her intercessory role. Her "yes" was an act of obedience to God, yes, but also one of compassion for the rest of mankind. By agreeing to bear Jesus - with all the anxieties and sorrows that such a life would entail for her - she was a more perfect Esther, who agreed to intercede for her people despite the threat to her life.
Obedience to God is inseparable from love of others. Compassion for one's fellow men, a willingness to descend into the "country of the shadow of death" in order to assist them. Esther used her position as Queen to protect her people: despite her initial wavering, in the end she cast her lot with those who dwelt in the "shadow of death," with the anawim, the bowed-down ones who prostrated themselves before her. Mary, though she is Queen of heaven, still bows down to us; she casts her lot with us who suffer and sorrow here on earth, she agrees to suffer and sorrow with us.
The image of all creation waiting breathlessly for Mary's answer: Why do you delay, why are you afraid? In this tender, loving exchange between angel and virgin, our eyes are trained on the virgin - and her quiet "fiat," uniting her mind and soul and body to the Lord, resounds throughout our hearts.
--------------------------
"In my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink."
St Therese says that Jesus thirsts for our souls, our love. Do we give him, then, souls that are embittered and sour, like vinegar? Do we give him love that is impure, tainted, curdled? Let your soul be a sponge soaked in the fresh dew of the Spirit, so that when Christ comes to drink, you can raise up to him a heart full of living water.
--------------------------
I wonder sometimes about the difference between Mary's "How can this be, since I have no relations with a man?" and Zechariah's "How will I know this, as I am an old man?" Mary is the one who is "blessed because she believes," but Zechariah is cursed for not believing - indeed, his curse is his "sign" that the messenger is from God.
Mary's question shows that her faith is not blind. I don't think God rejects our questioning into His workings - to understand how God works in the world. But I think we run into problems when we seek a sign to convince us that God is at work in the world. Perhaps that's the difference between Mary and Zechariah. Mary wanted to know how God would work in her life; Zechariah wanted to know that it was God at work in his life. Mary's faith consisted of seeing God at work in all parts of her life. May she help me to grow in that faith as well.
Bernard writes: "We. . . are waiting, O Lady, for your word of compassion; the sentence of condemnation weighs heavily upon us. The price of our salvation is offered to you. We shall be set free at once if you consent. . . Tearful Adam with his sorrowing family begs this of you, O loving Virgin. . . Abraham begs it, David begs it. All the other holy patriarchs, your ancestors, ask it of you, as they dwell in the country of the shadow of death. This is what the whole earth waits for, prostrate at your feet." One can hear the plea of Mordecai, of the Jews, as they waited to know whether Esther would approach the king and beg for the redemption of her people.
Seeing Mary as typified by Esther allows new insight into her intercessory role. Her "yes" was an act of obedience to God, yes, but also one of compassion for the rest of mankind. By agreeing to bear Jesus - with all the anxieties and sorrows that such a life would entail for her - she was a more perfect Esther, who agreed to intercede for her people despite the threat to her life.
Obedience to God is inseparable from love of others. Compassion for one's fellow men, a willingness to descend into the "country of the shadow of death" in order to assist them. Esther used her position as Queen to protect her people: despite her initial wavering, in the end she cast her lot with those who dwelt in the "shadow of death," with the anawim, the bowed-down ones who prostrated themselves before her. Mary, though she is Queen of heaven, still bows down to us; she casts her lot with us who suffer and sorrow here on earth, she agrees to suffer and sorrow with us.
The image of all creation waiting breathlessly for Mary's answer: Why do you delay, why are you afraid? In this tender, loving exchange between angel and virgin, our eyes are trained on the virgin - and her quiet "fiat," uniting her mind and soul and body to the Lord, resounds throughout our hearts.
--------------------------
"In my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink."
St Therese says that Jesus thirsts for our souls, our love. Do we give him, then, souls that are embittered and sour, like vinegar? Do we give him love that is impure, tainted, curdled? Let your soul be a sponge soaked in the fresh dew of the Spirit, so that when Christ comes to drink, you can raise up to him a heart full of living water.
--------------------------
I wonder sometimes about the difference between Mary's "How can this be, since I have no relations with a man?" and Zechariah's "How will I know this, as I am an old man?" Mary is the one who is "blessed because she believes," but Zechariah is cursed for not believing - indeed, his curse is his "sign" that the messenger is from God.
Mary's question shows that her faith is not blind. I don't think God rejects our questioning into His workings - to understand how God works in the world. But I think we run into problems when we seek a sign to convince us that God is at work in the world. Perhaps that's the difference between Mary and Zechariah. Mary wanted to know how God would work in her life; Zechariah wanted to know that it was God at work in his life. Mary's faith consisted of seeing God at work in all parts of her life. May she help me to grow in that faith as well.
Thursday, December 19, 2013
On Fear and Patience
Yesterday at Adult Catechesis we watched the episode about Mary from Fr. Barron's Catholicism series. During the discussion afterwards, I mentioned that since becoming a mother I feel closer to Mary's human side as a a mother, and I suggested that perhaps Mary went to visit Elizabeth because she was afraid and anxious about what the angel had told her - a message that would leave her unwed and pregnant. "Nonsense!" exclaimed one older lady who was present. "Our Lady had no fear! She was above such human concerns!"
Her reaction took me aback. When I tried to say that even Jesus expressed "human emotions" such as fear and sorrow, she said: "I'm not going to argue with you. But let me just say that we shouldn't focus on their human side. We should call our minds to the divine."
Nice words, and I wasn't going to argue with an elderly lady who obviously did not want further discussion on the topic. But her vehemence made me think of Augustine, who argues, in one of his homilies on the Psalms, that before we can ascend to the divine with Christ, we have to descend with Him into the "valley of tears" - the world of human concerns. If we hasten too quickly and try to grasp the divine without humbling ourselves in the "valley" of all those messy human experiences like fear and sorrow, Augustine says, we will never reach our goal. We must follow the path Christ laid out before us - a path of descent and ascent.
When I thought about my conversation with the elderly lady more, I realized that perhaps it was frightening to think of Mary as someone who felt afraid, who felt anxious, who felt worried. After all, if Mary isn't strong enough to defeat those human weaknesses, then who is? And if this lady needs Mary to be her strong-armed, strong-willed Mother, then I don't want to tread on that image. But I do hope I planted the seed of a different understanding of Mary: one that sees her strength flowing from her experience of human weakness.
Is this not what we believe about our God as well? God was not content to stay on the "divine side" of things, in some rarefied place beyond human conception. He came down to the human side - He became human in all things but sin. And as far as I know, feeling afraid for one's life and feeling anxiety about the future are not sins but rather part and parcel of the human experience of being limited in knowledge and understanding.
Jesus taught that strength comes from allowing ourselves to be weak. It comes from recognizing our dependence on others. Christian "strength" is not the strength of the world - it is not a strength that means self-sufficiency or independence. Christian strength is comprised of the strength of the Church, the Body of Christ made visible within our human community and sanctified by the presence of the Spirit. When Mary went to visit her cousin, perhaps she recognized that she could not do her task alone. She would need Elizabeth's support, Joseph's support, the help of her family and her community. Perhaps her wisdom in accepting her very human needs is something we can emulate in this world which sees weakness in asking for help.
----------------------------------------------------------
In the same homily on the Psalms, I read Augustine's warning about not to clinging to the "temporal," and it occurred to me that too often we interpret this word as having to do with material goods, when really the word comes from the Latin for time, not matter. Of course material goods exist "temporally" in the sense that they come into being at a particular point in time and cease to be at a particular point in time, but I wonder if maybe thinking of the temporal as specifically having to do with time might shift our conceptions a little bit.
Last Sunday the second reading at Mass was about the patience of the farmer who tills his soil while waiting for the rains. The farmer cannot make the rains come, but he can prepare his land for the proper season. If he tried to spend his time worrying about the rains or trying to make the rain fall, he'd be wasting his time. Wisely, he knows that it is better to be patient - to wait, to offer his time to God in prayerful expectation, and to make good use of the time he has.
Augustine tells us to submit our temporal blessings to God - not just material things like our money or our possessions, but time itself. Just like our possessions should be put to use to give God glory, so too should our time. When things go according to our plans, we should acknowledge it as a blessing from God and give thanks to Him - but when they don't, we should be able to say with Job: "The Lord gives and the Lord takes away." For those who struggle with patience as I do, I think it helps to think of all our time as a gift from God that we must offer back to Him. When when we cannot do things according to our own schedules - well, what a gift, what an opportunity to offer that time to God - to make sure it is not wasted, to give it back to God in prayer! Don't waste your time trying to change things you can't fix. Do what you can do - offer it to God.
The people of Israel were patient. They had to be. They could not make their Messiah come. They kept their eyes trained on heaven, waiting anxiously for the "acceptable time, the day of salvation." During Advent we too share their patience and their hope. Advent - this time of waiting - is such a wonderful time to practice patience: that fine art of waiting without wasting time, of responding graciously when our plans go awry, of giving generously of our own time, of respecting the time of others.
Her reaction took me aback. When I tried to say that even Jesus expressed "human emotions" such as fear and sorrow, she said: "I'm not going to argue with you. But let me just say that we shouldn't focus on their human side. We should call our minds to the divine."
Nice words, and I wasn't going to argue with an elderly lady who obviously did not want further discussion on the topic. But her vehemence made me think of Augustine, who argues, in one of his homilies on the Psalms, that before we can ascend to the divine with Christ, we have to descend with Him into the "valley of tears" - the world of human concerns. If we hasten too quickly and try to grasp the divine without humbling ourselves in the "valley" of all those messy human experiences like fear and sorrow, Augustine says, we will never reach our goal. We must follow the path Christ laid out before us - a path of descent and ascent.
When I thought about my conversation with the elderly lady more, I realized that perhaps it was frightening to think of Mary as someone who felt afraid, who felt anxious, who felt worried. After all, if Mary isn't strong enough to defeat those human weaknesses, then who is? And if this lady needs Mary to be her strong-armed, strong-willed Mother, then I don't want to tread on that image. But I do hope I planted the seed of a different understanding of Mary: one that sees her strength flowing from her experience of human weakness.
Is this not what we believe about our God as well? God was not content to stay on the "divine side" of things, in some rarefied place beyond human conception. He came down to the human side - He became human in all things but sin. And as far as I know, feeling afraid for one's life and feeling anxiety about the future are not sins but rather part and parcel of the human experience of being limited in knowledge and understanding.
Jesus taught that strength comes from allowing ourselves to be weak. It comes from recognizing our dependence on others. Christian "strength" is not the strength of the world - it is not a strength that means self-sufficiency or independence. Christian strength is comprised of the strength of the Church, the Body of Christ made visible within our human community and sanctified by the presence of the Spirit. When Mary went to visit her cousin, perhaps she recognized that she could not do her task alone. She would need Elizabeth's support, Joseph's support, the help of her family and her community. Perhaps her wisdom in accepting her very human needs is something we can emulate in this world which sees weakness in asking for help.
----------------------------------------------------------
In the same homily on the Psalms, I read Augustine's warning about not to clinging to the "temporal," and it occurred to me that too often we interpret this word as having to do with material goods, when really the word comes from the Latin for time, not matter. Of course material goods exist "temporally" in the sense that they come into being at a particular point in time and cease to be at a particular point in time, but I wonder if maybe thinking of the temporal as specifically having to do with time might shift our conceptions a little bit.
Last Sunday the second reading at Mass was about the patience of the farmer who tills his soil while waiting for the rains. The farmer cannot make the rains come, but he can prepare his land for the proper season. If he tried to spend his time worrying about the rains or trying to make the rain fall, he'd be wasting his time. Wisely, he knows that it is better to be patient - to wait, to offer his time to God in prayerful expectation, and to make good use of the time he has.
Augustine tells us to submit our temporal blessings to God - not just material things like our money or our possessions, but time itself. Just like our possessions should be put to use to give God glory, so too should our time. When things go according to our plans, we should acknowledge it as a blessing from God and give thanks to Him - but when they don't, we should be able to say with Job: "The Lord gives and the Lord takes away." For those who struggle with patience as I do, I think it helps to think of all our time as a gift from God that we must offer back to Him. When when we cannot do things according to our own schedules - well, what a gift, what an opportunity to offer that time to God - to make sure it is not wasted, to give it back to God in prayer! Don't waste your time trying to change things you can't fix. Do what you can do - offer it to God.
The people of Israel were patient. They had to be. They could not make their Messiah come. They kept their eyes trained on heaven, waiting anxiously for the "acceptable time, the day of salvation." During Advent we too share their patience and their hope. Advent - this time of waiting - is such a wonderful time to practice patience: that fine art of waiting without wasting time, of responding graciously when our plans go awry, of giving generously of our own time, of respecting the time of others.
Monday, December 16, 2013
To seek the truth
Why did Jesus refuse to answer the chief priests who questioned him? Because they did not seek the truth; rather, they sought to entrap him. Jesus uncovered their own deceitfulness by asking them from where the authority of John came. Instead of answering according to their consciences and true knowledge, they treated the question as a political game - an opportunity to jockey for power. They did not want to lose their reputation before the people, and they were willing to sacrifice the truth in order to maintain their authority.
Jesus does not wish to play this game. If we come seeking only to test him, or seeking only to glorify ourselves, Jesus will not reveal the truth to us - indeed, we will not be able to see or answer for the truth. St. Augustine says that sinful human beings want to reveal the truth without being revealed by the truth, so God instead reveals our true selves to us while keeping the truth - which is Himself - hidden. This is precisely what happens here: the chief priests are revealed as hypocrites and frauds, but the truth about Jesus remains concealed from them.
But we know that if we approach Jesus with humility, seeking truth and not seeking deception, then He will answer us. If we genuinely seek the truth, we will find it. And, if we genuinely seek the truth about Christ, we must not be afraid to let Christ reveal us to ourselves. Throughout the Gospels we see Jesus liberating people to become their true selves. He reveals their weaknesses so that He can heal them and set them free. And while revealing those weaknesses He also uncovers our hidden strengths, showing us the courage that we never knew we had.
Let God reveal our weaknesses. He is a gentle, loving healer; He will care for us tenderly. Let Him reveal our strengths; He will only delight in them and augment them, for "to the one who already has more will be given." Let Him reveal Himself: the one who commands praise and love. Seek truth, not power.
Jesus does not wish to play this game. If we come seeking only to test him, or seeking only to glorify ourselves, Jesus will not reveal the truth to us - indeed, we will not be able to see or answer for the truth. St. Augustine says that sinful human beings want to reveal the truth without being revealed by the truth, so God instead reveals our true selves to us while keeping the truth - which is Himself - hidden. This is precisely what happens here: the chief priests are revealed as hypocrites and frauds, but the truth about Jesus remains concealed from them.
But we know that if we approach Jesus with humility, seeking truth and not seeking deception, then He will answer us. If we genuinely seek the truth, we will find it. And, if we genuinely seek the truth about Christ, we must not be afraid to let Christ reveal us to ourselves. Throughout the Gospels we see Jesus liberating people to become their true selves. He reveals their weaknesses so that He can heal them and set them free. And while revealing those weaknesses He also uncovers our hidden strengths, showing us the courage that we never knew we had.
Let God reveal our weaknesses. He is a gentle, loving healer; He will care for us tenderly. Let Him reveal our strengths; He will only delight in them and augment them, for "to the one who already has more will be given." Let Him reveal Himself: the one who commands praise and love. Seek truth, not power.
Thursday, December 12, 2013
To bear witness
Our Lady of Guadalupe
Our faith is not a faith based in idealistic dreams. It is a faith based on concrete reality: the
reality of what God has done for His people in history. The Israelites professed this in their
Psalms: they recognized that their people could not have been victorious over
their oppressors and foes without the help of God. This victory was a very real victory: a military victory that enabled the Israelites to claim real territory as their own.
Yet we who are steeped in a more ambivalent and relativistic
culture do not like to think of God as helping the Israelites defeat other
peoples in battle. For what then of the
other peoples? What of the peoples whose
first-born sons were slaughtered, who were displaced and lost their homes? It seems a real injustice to suppose that God
favored the Israelites over others.
But I do think that if we read the Old Testament carefully,
we find hints that, though the Scriptures tell the story of God’s unique
relationship with the Israelites, God also never forgets that He is the Father
too of all other peoples. Theologians
and biblical scholars have different ways of expressing this: God is covenanted
to the Israelites but also holds forth a promise to the rest of humanity.
It’s important for us as a Church to remember this. We have a special relationship with God as
the Body of Christ on earth. But God
does not forget other peoples, and the promises He gives to the Church also
extend to non-Catholic Christians, Jews, Hindus, Buddhists, secular atheists –
all of humanity.
It is also important for the Church to bear witness to God’s
action within its own history. At times
this will require the Church to repent for its own sins, just as the Israelites
did throughout biblical times. But it
also requires us not to be timid about professing the blessings which God has wrought
through the Church. To be sure, to speak
of God’s action in and through the Church will expose us to ridicule from
people who do not want or are not able to see God at work in the world. They will say we were deluded, or blind, or
try to find some purely human causes for what the eyes of faith interpret as the work of God.
But we must bear witness nevertheless to the hope that God has brought into the world through the concrete reality of His Church.
I was reading in National Geographic about a woman from Iran
who converted to Christianity through devotion to Mary Magdalene. She was so astonished to discover in Christ a
man who regarded a woman so highly that He appeared to her first, before his
male friends! Women, she said, were
invisible in her own country (much the way they probably were in first-century
Israel), but Jesus – and the Scriptures which recorded His life, and the Church
which bore witness to His memory – made them visible. In this woman’s life, the work of the Church
(despite its own sins and flaws and confusion with regard to the treatment of
women) brought hope and a knowledge of her own dignity as a daughter of God.
Today is the feast of the Virgin of Guadalupe, who appeared
to a poor Indian in Mexico and gave him the courage to claim equal dignity to
the European Spaniards. God’s promise
extends even to the Indians! His life,
too, testifies to the work of God in human history: God’s promise stretching to
encompass the entire world.
Individual Catholics must also bear witness to the concrete
reality of God in their own lives. We
cannot divorce Christian truths from their physical manifestations. A purely over-spiritualized Christianity is
the luxury of the privileged. Consider
Christians in Nigeria who risk their lives to attend church on Sundays and must
be attended by armed guards. Yet they
go! But here in this country, many
people who profess to believe in God do not go to church at all. They are too busy, they can’t fit it into
their schedules, they can praise GOd just fine outside of church. Meanwhile, Nigerian Christians are
willing to die for something that we in America take for granted. Their witness, too, is a concrete witness to
God in the world.
We in America often
think it’s good enough to worship God in sunsets and rainbows, on mountaintops
or ocean sides. We do not think it
necessary to take the concrete action of devoting our time and moving our
bodies to a physical space dedicated to worship. But that movement means something. It means
something to the Nigerians. It means
something to the woman from Iran who went on pilgrimage to the shrine of Mary
Magdalene in France. It meant something
to Juan Diego, who trekked up and down the mountain carrying the flowers of the
Virgin. These concrete realities that demand something of our time and our
bodies: this is how we bear witness to our God at work in the world.
This is the meaning of the Incarnation. God was not content with speaking to us from
a cloud or inspiring us what a “feeling.”
He came to us in the flesh. He
came to us in space and time. He sacrificed Himself in space and
time. Do we dare second-guess God by
supposing it’s good enough to have an overly interiorized faith that risks
devolving into self-centered sentimentality?
We are called to bear witness with our words - real words. We are called to bear witness with our actions - concrete actions. When God has blessed you, don't be afraid to tell the world about it! When you feel the Holy Spirit calling you to do good, don't be afraid to do it! Think of the Iranian woman unashamed of the tears coursing down her face as she prayed for the intercession of Mary Magdalene. Think of the Nigerian family braving militant groups to make it to church. Think of Juan Diego who, though an illiterate Indian, told the bishop what to do. Let their witness give strength to your witness. Let the fires of their faith set your faith on fire.
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
In the Wilderness
In some exegetical circles, much has been made of the fact that Luke transforms Isaiah's prophecy of "a voice crying out: in the desert prepare the way of the Lord'" into "a voice crying out in the desert: prepare the way of the Lord." I think John the Baptist could be seen fulfilling each of these roles (he was, after all, in the desert preaching to people in the desert), but I do think Isaiah's version captures something special.
Deserts are dry, barren places. Wildernesses are, by definition, wild and chaotic. The entire story of the Old Testament is about God bringing life to the barren, order to chaos.
Our world needs prophets. Our world is in many ways a spiritual desert: dry, barren, full of people so desperate and greedy and hungry and thirsty that they grasp at any kind of nectar dripping from any poisoned fruit. Our world is a wilderness: in their confusion and twisted attempts at self-justification which lead only to self-delusion, people are lost and do not know where to turn. We need prophets with the courage of John the Baptist to go into this desert, into this wilderness, and proclaim: "Prepare the way of the Lord!"
Yet in order to become like John the Baptist, we need to recognize the barrenness and chaos of our own hearts. My soul: a barren place, where I die many deaths of pride and selfishness. My heart: a wilderness, full of darkness and the brambles of my own vices and sins that block my path. I need to prepare the way of the Lord into my own heart - clear a way to Him, make straight His paths.
But how do I do this? Isaiah says that the valleys must be raised and the mountains made level. But Isaiah also says that God alone is the one who can do this: "I will make all my mountains a road," says the Lord (49:11), "I will go before you and level the mountains" (45:2). God alone can clear a path for Himself so that He can come into my heart. The Psalms tell us that God alone can show us the path to Him (25:4). We must entrust our journey to Him (37:5).
Only when we trust the Lord can He act on our behalf. Only when we wholeheartedly and fully give over our path to Him can He truly raise the valleys and level the mountains, water the desert and clear the wilderness. It is this faith - this total trust - that God asks from us. Don't hold anything back! Say to God: "Take me wherever You will!" This is how to prepare our hearts for the coming of the Lord.
Yet how often do we cling to our own expectations of how our lives ought to go! Do we think Mary planned to be an unwed mother at sixteen? Did she plan to watch her only Son die before her very eyes? Did Joseph plan to marry a woman who was pregnant with a child that was not his? Scripture is full of people whose expectations and hopes and dreams for a quiet, peaceful, self-centered life were absolutely shattered by God's call. Perhaps they were busy doing perfectly ordinary, perfectly good things. It is not a sin to be a fisherman, but it is a sin to cling to being a fisherman when God calls you to something greater. To cling to these expectations is to say no to God. It is to say: I prefer the chaos and darkness of my own will to the clean bright light of Yours. It is to be like the servant who clung greedily to the one talent he was entrusted with. This is not life - this is death! So the servant has his talent snatched from him and he is cast aside.
The unexpected call of God encounters us every day. In traffic jams and thwarted dinner plans. In unplanned pregnancies. In the deaths of our loved ones. In chance encounters with strangers that change our lives. In phone calls from family and friends asking for help. In the faces of the homeless and poor on our city benches and street corners. In the people who annoy us and challenge our charity and kindness. Jesus told Peter to be prepared: one day, he would be led where he did not want to go. And God is constantly calling each of us to go where we do not want to go! Every time our plans are disappointed, it is up to us to find God there: calling us out of our complacency, asking us to practice sacrificing our will, forcing us to recognize that our time is not ours, and ultimately neither are our lives. Saying "yes" to these little moments of self-sacrifice prepares us to see the bigger ways in which God calls us to say "yes" - the "yes" that can give shape and meaning to our lives. The "yes" that can make straight the path of the Lord in the wilderness of our souls - and our world.
Deserts are dry, barren places. Wildernesses are, by definition, wild and chaotic. The entire story of the Old Testament is about God bringing life to the barren, order to chaos.
Our world needs prophets. Our world is in many ways a spiritual desert: dry, barren, full of people so desperate and greedy and hungry and thirsty that they grasp at any kind of nectar dripping from any poisoned fruit. Our world is a wilderness: in their confusion and twisted attempts at self-justification which lead only to self-delusion, people are lost and do not know where to turn. We need prophets with the courage of John the Baptist to go into this desert, into this wilderness, and proclaim: "Prepare the way of the Lord!"
Yet in order to become like John the Baptist, we need to recognize the barrenness and chaos of our own hearts. My soul: a barren place, where I die many deaths of pride and selfishness. My heart: a wilderness, full of darkness and the brambles of my own vices and sins that block my path. I need to prepare the way of the Lord into my own heart - clear a way to Him, make straight His paths.
But how do I do this? Isaiah says that the valleys must be raised and the mountains made level. But Isaiah also says that God alone is the one who can do this: "I will make all my mountains a road," says the Lord (49:11), "I will go before you and level the mountains" (45:2). God alone can clear a path for Himself so that He can come into my heart. The Psalms tell us that God alone can show us the path to Him (25:4). We must entrust our journey to Him (37:5).
Only when we trust the Lord can He act on our behalf. Only when we wholeheartedly and fully give over our path to Him can He truly raise the valleys and level the mountains, water the desert and clear the wilderness. It is this faith - this total trust - that God asks from us. Don't hold anything back! Say to God: "Take me wherever You will!" This is how to prepare our hearts for the coming of the Lord.
Yet how often do we cling to our own expectations of how our lives ought to go! Do we think Mary planned to be an unwed mother at sixteen? Did she plan to watch her only Son die before her very eyes? Did Joseph plan to marry a woman who was pregnant with a child that was not his? Scripture is full of people whose expectations and hopes and dreams for a quiet, peaceful, self-centered life were absolutely shattered by God's call. Perhaps they were busy doing perfectly ordinary, perfectly good things. It is not a sin to be a fisherman, but it is a sin to cling to being a fisherman when God calls you to something greater. To cling to these expectations is to say no to God. It is to say: I prefer the chaos and darkness of my own will to the clean bright light of Yours. It is to be like the servant who clung greedily to the one talent he was entrusted with. This is not life - this is death! So the servant has his talent snatched from him and he is cast aside.
The unexpected call of God encounters us every day. In traffic jams and thwarted dinner plans. In unplanned pregnancies. In the deaths of our loved ones. In chance encounters with strangers that change our lives. In phone calls from family and friends asking for help. In the faces of the homeless and poor on our city benches and street corners. In the people who annoy us and challenge our charity and kindness. Jesus told Peter to be prepared: one day, he would be led where he did not want to go. And God is constantly calling each of us to go where we do not want to go! Every time our plans are disappointed, it is up to us to find God there: calling us out of our complacency, asking us to practice sacrificing our will, forcing us to recognize that our time is not ours, and ultimately neither are our lives. Saying "yes" to these little moments of self-sacrifice prepares us to see the bigger ways in which God calls us to say "yes" - the "yes" that can give shape and meaning to our lives. The "yes" that can make straight the path of the Lord in the wilderness of our souls - and our world.
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