Thy Kingdom Come

I wonder what we are thinking at the moment we say "Thy kingdom come..."  Are we thinking about the world in general, the need for world peace and cessation of violence -- surely a prayer we need to pray without ceasing?  Or are we thinking at this moment about --- this moment?

Sometimes when my mind is wandering over situations that concern me, whether of my own health, or something that concerns my children, my friends, my neighborhood, etc., I suddenly sense the presence of God, and I pray, almost as a breath:  Thy kingdom come....right now...in this moment...in this situation.

I remember when I first started reading the bible.  I had won a bible from a local bookstore promotion -- go figure-- at the exact moment in my life when the Holy Spirit awakened in me the desire to read the bible.  I chose The Living Bible, a paraphrased edition that was easy and enjoyable to read.  Later, of course, after I had gotten hooked on the bible and wanted to know the exact translation instead of a paraphrase, I invested in a more accurate translation.  But phrases and ideas from The Living Bible have remained with me all these years, because of the surprise element in them.  One of those phrases was this:  My body, too, knows full well that you are my God.

I gave that bible to a neighbor about 30 years ago, once I had acquired a new one, so I cannot locate the place that phrase occurred -- one cannot find it in a "regular" translation.  The closest I have come to its meaning is Psalm 16:  ...my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices; my body also will rest secure, because you will not abandon me to the grave, nor will you let your Holy One see decay.  You have made known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand.

My heart leaps with joy when I read Psalm 16 because God has planted in me the truth of David's song, and I know it in every fiber of my being.  But in the moments I am thinking about a condition in my aging body, the phrase that always intersects my thoughts is the one I first read from the Living Bible:  My body, too, knows full well that you are my God.

My spontaneous thought and re-assurance to the situations that we all face on a daily basis is what the Holy Spirit has shown me and taught me from the bible.  When I say, "Thy kingdom come," I am thinking about what the Word of God says about the situation I face at the moment:  My God will supply all my needs according to His riches in Christ Jesus; My body, too, knows full well that you are my God ....or whatever the Holy Spirit ministers to me from the Word of God in the moment.

In the book of Deuteronomy, Moses tells the people just before he dies:  Now what I am commanding you today is not too difficult for you or beyond your reach.  It is not up in heaven so that you have to ask, "Who will ascend into heaven to get it and proclaim it to us so that we may obey it?"  No, the word is very near you; it is in your mouth and in your heart so that you may obey it (30:11).

And after Moses' death, the Lord tells Joshua: Do not let this Book of the Law depart from your mouth; meditate on it day and night so that you may be careful to do everything written in it.  Then you will be prosperous and successful (1:8).

When we pray "Thy kingdom come..." in the moments and situations of our own lives, we are affirming everything the Word of God has to say about the situation.  We can pray that prayer without knowing what the Word says, but we can pray with confidence and assurance only when our hearts and minds embrace fully what God has said, what God has to say, about our situation. 

It is good to pray for world peace and for the conversion of the terrorists -- thank God there are people whose passion is to pray daily "Thy kingdom come!"  For most of us, though, who struggle through each moment, each minor situation (as measured on the world scale), it is so good to be able to say "Thy kingdom come today, in my life, in my body, in my finances, in the health of my children, in my neighborhood, in the lives of my friends..." -- and even more, to rest assured that we know the mind and heart of God regarding those situations!

Home Field Advantage

For the kingdom of God is not a matter of talk, but of power (I Cor. 4:20).

 

But you have come to Mount Zion, to the heavenly Jerusalem, the city of the living God.  You have come to thousands upons thousands of angels in joyful assembly, to the church of the firstborn, whose names are written in heaven.  You have come to God, the judge of all men, to the spirits of righteous men made perfect, to Jesus the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood that speaks a better word than the blood of Abel (Hebrews 12:22-24).

 

Every sports fan knows about "the home field advantage."  We are not talking here about some kind of fantasy, but about the reality -- the energy -- that sustains a team playing at home.  In the case of LSU and the New Orleans Saints, team frenzy can be felt for miles outside of Baton Rouge and New Orleans itself.  In fact, one of my neighbors on the Gulf Coast of Mississippi is a rabid fan of both teams.  Not only is everything in his house emblematic of his teams, but his kitchen is painted gold, and his stove, refrigerator, and dishwasher are all a deep purple (for LSU).

 

At the height of the Saints' winning season a few years ago, I warned one of my colleagues to be careful -- his car was sporting a Green Bay Packers flag the day the Saints were playing that team at the Superdome.  He risked being an outcast (at best) in a city whose energy for the Saints was palpable that day.

 

This Thursday, Nov. 1, is the Feast of All Saints in the Catholic Church.  What we are really celebrating that day is the union of those who are disciples of Jesus.  Each one of us is distinctly individual in our gifts and personalities -- just like the team members of the New Orleans Saints -- but we are all on the same team, with one goal in mind: to express the Spirit of God that is in Jesus Christ and in His Body, His members in heaven and on earth.

 

Those who have gone before us surround us, who are still "playing on the field," and they are cheering us on, wearing our colors ("They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands"--Rev. 7:9).  We are not alone; we are surrounded by an invisible cheering crowd, whose energy supports us in all we do. 

 

I think most people fail to realize that "the kingdom of God is not a matter of talk, but of power," as Paul tells us.  We think it is our own energy and goodness that "gets us through," that we "reach the goal" on our own power and steam.  But the truth is that we have a home-field advantage in our struggle; we have all the saints in heaven and earth urging us forward and cheering our victories in this life. 

 

My mother, though a convert to Catholicism after being raised as a Baptist, came to know the saints in heaven as friends and cohorts.  We prayed to St. Anthony for lost shoes and keys, and we expected his help, because we knew he was a friend who cared whether we got to school on time or not.  My mother loved St. Francis of Assisi and Padre Pio; she prayed regularly to St. Benedict for all of her children -- these were those who had the power to assist her on her journey through life. 

 

A few years ago, I had the rare privilege of traveling to Rome.  During that trip, our friend and guide decided for some reason to take us to Assisi, a place I had always wanted to see.  As we stepped out of the car after a long journey, a light snow began to fall, and there was something magical in the air during our visit to the place where Francis received the stigmata and spent so many hours in prayer.  On another day, we traveled on business to Montecino, the monastery outside of Rome founded by St. Benedict, and where he spent the last years of his life.  Finally, as we were given a private tour of the Vatican, the cardinal who was leading us showed us the staff of Padre Pio, which I was allowed to take hold of.  At that moment, I felt not only the spirit of Padre Pio, but the spirit of my mother who was then in heaven with her friends.  What were the odds that I would be taken to the earthly sites of all three of her best friends in heaven?

 

There is a power on earth that we can all take hold of -- the power and energy of those who have gone before us, and who are now committed to cheering us on, to supplying what we need for our journey on earth, and who will receive us with open arms when our journey is finished.  Three cheers for "home - field advantage!"

The Power of God

All power in heaven and on earth has been given to me (Matt. 28:18).

 

For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved, it is the power of God...for since in the wisdom of God the world through its wisdom did not know him, God was pleased through the foolishness of what was preached to save those who believe.

 

Jews demand miraculous signs and Greeks look for wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified: a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, but to those whom God has called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God (I Cor. 18-24).

 

It is difficult to understand the cross as "the power and the wisdom of God."  But it is only the cross of Christ that has the power to destroy sin and evil.  When David was being relentlessly pursued by the armies of King Saul, when he was hiding out in caves, not even able to get a drink of water to slake his thirst, he cried out, "If only you would destroy these men of evil who seek my life, O Lord!"

 

Is this an "un-Christian" approach to evil?  I think not.  Sometimes, our only hope to escape evil is to pray for the destruction of our enemies.  Deitrich Bonhoeffer was part of a plot to destroy Hitler in Germany; for his part, he was sentenced to a death camp and hanged just a week or so before Hitler committed suicide and the death camps were liberated.  Was Bonhoeffer "un-Christian" in his desperate solution to the problem of evil?  We of course cannot judge his actions -- but I think the person who is willing to sacrifice his own life in an attempt to save others cannot be un-Christian.

 

There is no "solution" for pure evil except the death of the one in whom it resides.  During the 60's and 70's, Catholic bishops were informed by psychologists that predator priests could be "cured" by therapy, and the bishops accepted the advice of the "experts."  Today we know better: there is no "cure" for evil.  Can abusive parents be "cured"?  Can evil be "reformed"?  The death penalty we have adopted in the United States testifies to our conviction that the only solution to grave and continuous evil is death-- or lifetime incarceration, which is another (and to me less desirable) form of death.

 

Although the death of the sinner is the only solution to evil, God's wisdom has provided a way out.  He does not desire the death of the sinner, but only the death of the sinful nature: for when we were controlled by the sinful nature, the sinful passions aroused by the law were at work in our bodies, so that we bore the fruit for death.  But now, by dying to what once bound us, we have been released from the law so that we serve in the new way of the Spirit, and not in the old way of the written code....

Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it...So then, I myself in my mind am a slave to God's law, but in the sinful nature a slave to the law of sin (Romans 7).

 

The "power" of the cross is the destruction of our sinful nature:  there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus, the law of the Spirit of life set me free from the law of sin and death (Romans 8:1)....if Christ is in you, your body is dead because of sin, yet your spirit is alive because of righteousness (v.10).

 

The wisdom of God is not that Jesus had to die, but that we have to die -- the sinful nature, the "law of sin and death" residing in each one of us, has to die.  There is no other cure for sin except death.  Paul says, "I no longer live, but Christ lives in me to the glory of God."  That is our "cure;" that is the wisdom of God.  As "I" die, as I allow Jesus to crucify my sinful nature, it -- the sinful nature to which I am a slave-- is replaced with a "new creation," a new nature that is obedient to God.  Now I can bear fruit to the kingdom of heaven instead of to the laws of the flesh. 

 

Jesus took my sinful nature to the cross and there destroyed it forever.  In His resurrection, He brought me back to life, no longer a slave to sin, but alive to God in the Spirit.  This is the "power and the wisdom" of God:  that I am alive and free from sin!

 

A stumbling block to the Jews (who wanted instead miraculous signs) and foolishness to the Gentiles, (who want something that makes sense in the wisdom of this world)!  But to me, a slave to sin that makes me hate the things I do, a cause for rejoicing and thanksgiving!

 



Free Indeed!

Why should our relationship with God have to be so different from our human relationships?  When we are children, we are bound to obey our parents just because they are stronger, smarter, more wise (in the sense of having lived longer and experienced more about the world) -- and because we are totally dependent upon them for survival.

As we grow stronger, smarter, more wise, and less dependent upon our parents, the relationship must change.  If it does not, something is wrong.  As adults, it seems to me that we love and respect our parents because they have given us so much from their own resources.  We are no longer bound to obey them, but now we might have to give back from our own resources some of what they have given to us.  This is what I believe Jesus meant by "honor your father and mother."  In other words, don't cast them off in your pride of independence, but take care of them as they become less strong, less smart, less wise, and more dependent.

As religious "children," we too have obligations toward God because we are children and not very wise in the ways of the spiritual world.  We need to be protected from the forces of evil that constantly threaten to suck up our souls and destroy us.  As we grow stronger spiritually, we grow more like God, understanding the forces of good and evil, just as was promised by the snake in the garden -- but we understand and grow strong because of spiritual wisdom, not disobedience and taking our own way. 

As we grow in love, we grow more "like God," and we "give back to Him" not because of obligation but because we "honor" Him as our Source and as our life.  Today's reading from God Calling 2 puts it this way:

How human, how earth-bound, are the thoughts man has of God.  He judges of Me and My Father by his own frail impulses and feelings. 

There is in Divine Love no compulsion of duty from the loved one to the Lover.

Love draws, certainly, and then love longs to serve and to express one's love.

But no question of duty in return for the Love.

 

World religions have all passed through a 'childhood' of duty and obligations, even from before the Ten Commandments were given on Mt. Sinai.  Some religions are still steeped in obligation and threat of punishment as their main focus and purpose.  Jesus condemned the Scribes for laying heavy burdens on men and "lifting not a finger to help them."  But His purpose and focus was not more duty, but lifting the burdens from our backs.  He came to set us free; by His Truth, we are set free -- from fear of all kind, which is a form of slavery:  no fear of hell, no fear of condemnation or rejection, no fear of men's judgment --- the followers of Jesus have been accepted and "set upon a lampstand to give light to all in the household."

 



Jesus even went so far as to call His followers, "friends, not servants." 

If fear is still an element in our religious practice, we do not know Jesus.  If we cannot approach God as Friend Par Excellence, we are still children in the Spirit.  This approach does not lessen the greatness of God, but speaks of His great humility and love for us.  If any one of us approaches someone in fear, we do not truly love the other.  We may fear losing the love of the other; we may fear that they will be disgusted with us; we may fear not living up to their generosity; we may fear failing them in their love for us --- but we are not thereby "obligated" to serve them.  We just want to return to them without fail all they have given to us, and we are happy to serve them in any way we can.  We want to be with the other in relationship, and we do not want that relationship to grow cold.

It seems to me that as religions treat God, they also treat one another.  Those still based on servile fear keep their followers in a state of childhood, of 'servanthood.'  Men keep their wives subject to them in fear, and never consider their wives as "friends."  Those who do not follow the rules are "shunned," outcast, punished. 

No wonder Jesus had to walk among us.  Without Him, we could never dare to grow up in our relationship with God, but would remain forever servile children.

Annointed with Power from on High

Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the desert, where for forty days he was tempted by the devil....Jesus returned to Galilee in the power of the Spirit (Luke 4: 1 & 14)

 

As Jesus took leave of the earth, He gave His disciples two instructions:  Go into the whole world and preach the good news to all creation (Mark 16:15) and I am going to send you what my Father has promised, but stay in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high (Luke 24:49).

 

The Acts of the Apostles continues the Gospel of Luke after the Ascension of Jesus into heaven.  Its purpose is to record what happened through the Apostles after they had been "clothed with power from on high."  This small band of fisherman had the experience of having been with Jesus for three years, but they still had not much understanding of what they had seen and heard, and until the day of Pentecost, they had even less "power" to do the works of God which they had seen Jesus do.  His Spirit had not yet entered into them to do the same things He had done. 

 

If we attempt to build the kingdom of God without the power of the Holy Spirit, we cannot do it.  The kingdom that Jesus came to establish is "not of this world" and not built by human hands.  John the Baptist said, "A man can do only what has been given to him from above."  The work is not ours, but God's; it begins with Him and ends with Him, but it flows through us.

 

As it was with Jesus, the Spirit of God impels us forward, "sets up" the people who meet us, and ministers to them through our eyes, our hands, our minds and souls.  It is a great mystery how this is done -- sometimes even without our knowledge or understanding.  I am constantly amazed at the workings of the Holy Spirit.  As our pastor said last week, "Sometimes people will say to me, 'I really needed to hear you say......' and I think to myself, 'I don't think I said that -- but that is what they heard."

 

Sometimes the Spirit will speak through us in words understood by others, even if we ourselves don't quite understand what we are saying.  I recall once at a prayer meeting, I kept hearing the word "confetti," but it made no sense to me -- there was not a shred of context for this word.  So I kept the word to myself until it seemed it would burn a hole in my head.  Finally, I said, "I keep hearing the word 'confetti' but I have no clue as to what it might mean.  One lady in the group said, "I have a whole trunkful of confetti that I am delivering tomorrow to someone in charge of the fair."  Now neither one of us understood what we should do with that information, but we decided after the meeting to pray for the person who was to receive the confetti.  She asked whether she should pray with the person when she delivered the confetti, and I advised her to follow the lead of the Holy Spirit that day.  I never thought to follow up on the incident, so I don't know what happened the following day.  But for some reason, the Holy Spirit thought it was important enough to mention during a prayer meeting.

 

Many times, we have a "random" thought that seems to come out of the blue, and we fail to act on it because it seems to make no sense at all.  But as we learn to trust the Holy Spirit and step out in faith, relying not on our understanding but on Him, we will discover miracles of ministry beyond our own capabilities.  Just as he did with Jesus, the Holy Spirit will reveal secrets of men's hearts to those whose primary interest is not their own kingdoms, but the kingdom of God on earth.

 

All of us would probably love to "go into the whole world, preaching the good news and making disciples, baptizing them in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit."  But we hardly know where to begin or how to go about doing this impossible task.  We have forgotten the second instruction -- but first, ...wait for the gift My Father promised...for John baptized with water, but you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit (Acts 1:4). 

 

We need to wait expectantly, continuing in prayer, as did Mary and the Apostles, until we are "clothed with power from on high," for the kingdom of God is "not a matter of talk, but of power" (I Cor. 4:20).  The Holy Spirit will express in each one of us the power of God in various ways, according to our individual personalities and strengths and weaknesses.  But it will no longer be us doing God's work, but God doing His own work through us. 

 

I once heard someone say, "Talk to God about men before you talk to men about God."  I think this is great advice, driving us to our secret "prayer closet" before we hit the streets.  Spending more time with Jesus, hearing Him speak to us and teach us, is the beginning of wisdom, without which none of us dare open our mouths.

 

Let us begin with prayer and end with prayer:  Holy Spirit, I made a mess today, but the mission is Yours -- You speak to the hearts I tried to reach with my own strength and send the light of Your Truth, and You shall renew the face of the earth!

 

 

 



 

 

Election Day

As we face a new presidential election, I am haunted by the inaugural address of John F. Kennedy in 1961, especially the ending phrase of the speech, which set the tone and purpose of his administration: With a good conscience our only sure reward, with history the final judge of our deeds, let us go forth to lead the land we love, asking His blessing and His help, but knowing that here on earth God's work must truly be our own.

John F. Kennedy was not a perfect man, as indeed neither was Martin Luther King, Mahatma Gandhi, or Nelson Mandela.  It is easy for us in hindsight to "see" the faults of our leaders -- Thomas Jefferson owned slaves; Benjamin Franklin liked women, etc.  Kennedy was, like the rest of his family, politically ambitious, morally ambiguous in some areas, and so forth.  But his inaugural address clearly gives us what was important to him -- the values that drove him forth and that lay at the core of his being. 

What motivated both John and Bobby Kennedy was not ultimately power, but power to serve, power to do the right thing, both in this nation and in the world.  Like other great leaders, they were not about self-aggrandizement, whatever other faults they may have had.  They were about justice, about the triumph of truth, and the dignity of their fellow men.  Kennedy stated at the opening of his address his core belief that "the rights of man come not from the generosity of the state, but from the hand of God." 

These are the rights he pledged to defend, as "heirs of that first revolution...., and unwilling to witness or permit the slow undoing of those human rights to which this nation has always been committed."

Kennedy also spoke to the world that day as well as to our own country:  [Let us] remember that those who foolishly sought power by riding the back of the tiger ended up inside....if a free society cannot help the many who are poor, it cannot save the few who are rich.

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As we examine our presidential choices, to me, the issues they debate is not as important as the drive that propels them to seek office --- what are they about as human beings, not as politicians?  What are the core issues that define their souls?  We cannot tell what issues here and abroad will face us in the coming days, and we cannot demand from our leaders the wisdom of Solomon.  What we can demand from them is a passion for justice, a determination to put the rights of the poor and defenseless ahead of those of the rich and powerful, and an acknowledgment that "here on earth, God's work must truly be our own." 

I need to vote, as nearly as I can, not only for "one nation under God," but for "one man under God." 
And it will take a lot of prayer on our part to discern that one man.

The Unseen World

Trust in the Spirit Forces of the Unseen, not in those you see (God Calling: October 23).

 

Recently one night, our pastor and one of the men from our church stopped to help us change a very flat tire.  In gratitude, I ordered a book that I thought each of them might like.  When I gave God Calling to the layman Monday night, he remarked that he would treasure it, as for years, he has read and loved The Imitation of Christ, by Thomas a'Kempis.  His casual remark started me thinking about "the unseen world" that exists all around us -- the world of prayer.  We go to church weekly and even daily in the company of ordinary people who live lives of intense devotion and prayer -- but ordinarily, we do not see it.

 

This man's chance remark opened my eyes to a phenomenon that I have 'seen" all my life and have not paid attention to:  Catholics pray! I know that it is not only Catholics who pray, but it is Catholics I see the most in prayer:  my mother said the rosary every day of her life since her entrance into the church, and now I have learned that some of my friends do the same.  My mother and father after they retired attended a small prayer group that met in church every day to say the Chaplet of the Divine Mercy at 3:00 p.m. -- and this, after daily Mass at 8:00 a.m.  At my former parish in Metairie, there was an adoration chapel, where someone was in prayer 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.  One group that has begun within the past few years is called, "Lord, Teach Me to Pray."  Based on the spiritual exercises of Ignatius Loyola, this group was started by a woman in Metairie, and now there are groups of both men and women all over the South who are learning to pray using the scriptures.

 

Once I started thinking about it, I could see a world of prayer just below the surface of life: parents praying for their children, children praying for their parents, men and women who begin each day with prayer and meditation before going to work; entire communities of religious men and women who live by prayer...the list goes on and on.  And of course, the greatest prayer of all -- the Mass -- said in every parish every day, with people in attendance.

 

God Calling for Oct. 24 says this:  "You are the salt of the earth: but if the salt has lost its savor, it is henceforth good for nothing, but to be cast out, and to be trodden under the foot of men."  Only in very close contact with Me is the keeping Power realized.  That keeping Power which mantains the salt at its freshest and best, and also preserves from corruption that portion of the world in which I place it.  What a work! Not by activity in this case, but simply by its existing, by its quality.

 

Listening to the men and women who speak up during our weekly class on the Holy Spirit and His Gifts has made me aware how much prayer has been going on all around me all these years -- and I was not aware of it.  One of the marks of the true church is that it promotes holiness in its members.  I guess I am amazed at the 'unseen' world of prayer, at the amazing number of men and women drawing their sustenance and life from Christ, their Source!  Who could have guessed that so much real prayer was going on all around us?

 

 



Receiving Stations

St. Clement of Rome Church in Metairie has a statue of Mary, Spouse of the Holy Spirit.  Mary is holding and drawing close to her breast a dove, a symbol of the Holy Spirit.  The first time I saw this stature, it spoke to me; I realized then that this is what we are all supposed to be -- receiving stations for the "Gift of the Father," as Jesus called the Holy Spirit, and with Him, all the goodness that God so longs to pour out in the world. 

He does not demand goodness from us; He knows better --- Jesus came for sinners, not for saints.  All He asks is that we receive:  God does not love us because we are good, but His love makes us good.  Anyone can receive, but God will never give us anything we do not desire.  If we want wisdom, we need to ask for wisdom.  If we want truth, we need to ask for truth.  If we want goodness, we need to ask for goodness.  Jesus told us to "ask, seek, knock," and the door will be opened:  if you, evil as you are, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those that ask him! (Luke 11:13)

Although I cannot hope to penetrate the mysteries of the Incarnation of Jesus in the womb of a woman, one small insight pointed out by many theologians is that the soul of man is always "feminine" in relation to God.  It took a virgin to symbolize the interactions perfectly.  The Holy Spirit hovers over the dark, empty womb to bring forth a new creation, just as He did at the first creation.  And Jesus said, "Blessed are the poor (empty) in spirit; the kingdom of God is theirs."

Those who are "little" (the anawim, in Hebrew), "poor," "not rich," "helpless," etc. are the ones who most stir the mercy and tenderness of God, according to Julian of Norwich.  The word "mercy" is derived from the word for "womb" in Hebrew -- and Isaiah has God speaking as a Mother:

Can a mother forget the baby at her breast

and have no compassion on the child she has borne?

Though she may forget,

I will not forget you!

See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands;

your walls are ever before me (49:15-16).

 

Man tends to want a reward system when it comes to God -- He wants to earn his way to heaven, but Jesus was always talking about a banquet-- a joyous party to which everyone has been invited.  When those who first received an invitation excused themselves, the king sends out his servants to the highways and byways seeking anyone who will take up the invitation.

 

One of the reasons I love to read Richard Rohr's books is that he is one of the most honest of all Catholic writers -- at least about the Catholic church.  In Scripture as Spirituality, he has this to say:

 

Yet even the Eucharist has been presented as a reward system for good behavior, a worthiness contest, a sacrificial system.  We see it often more as an agreed - upon belief system, than the simple, gratituitous table fellowship that it was for Jesus and his first unworthy ones.....God is still trying to give away God.  Yet no one seems to want God; what we want is a worthiness system (p. 176-177).

 



Rohr goes on to remind his readers of a great movie -- Babette's Feast.  This is a movie I think we should all see about once a year.  In the short story upon which the movie is based, the author Isak Denison writes:

 

Grace...demands nothing from us but that we shall await it with confidence and acknowledge it in gratitude.  Grace..makes no conditions and singles out none of us in particular; grace takes us all to its bosom and proclaims general amnesty. 

 

That which we have chose is given to us, and that which we have refused is granted us.

 

After quoting Denison, Richard Rohr says this:  "If the bible doesn't lead you to that experience, I don't believe you are allowing it to do its greatest work (p. 183).

 

I'm wondering if we are able, like the at-first-cold guests at Babette's Feast, to warm up a bit in the presence of God's freely offered wine and food.  It has nothing to do with our "just desserts," but everything to do with His joy in preparing the feast for us!





Called to Serve

A new commandment I give to you....love one another as I have loved you

 

You call me "Lord and Teacher, and rightly so....now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you should also wash one another's feet (Jn. 13).

 

The Son of Man came not to be served, but to serve.

 

As we live from moment to moment in our daily lives, it is difficult for us to maintain the idea that we live to serve others.  Our lives are naturally focused on what we need at the moment: a hug, a drink, something to eat, a place to get away from it all, etc.  We are self-centered by nature; the world does, in fact, revolve around me and my needs.  This is the human condition.

 

If we are married, we need the support, the affirmation, the unconditional love of our partner to meet our needs.  It is hard for us to get out of that mindset to consider ourselves servants of the other, to consider first what the other person needs from us.

 

For some reason, this morning I was thinking about my experience of tutoring children.  When I walk into that room, I am absolutely and totally at their service.  I am not even at that moment "the teacher" who has her own needs to cover a certain amount of material before the end of the day or the end of the semester.  For this one hour, I am present as a knowledgable and understanding servant:  what do you need from me right now? 

 

When the child arrives, my first task is to assess what he or she needs from me at the moment.  Sometimes, I see immediately that the child is not feeling well -- that she is tired from the school day, that she has a headache, or just needs to vent from some emotional trauma that is blocking her ability to learn.  Other times, the child arrives energized, ready to get her homework completed so that both she and her mother can go home and relax after a long day.  And there are times when the child comes to me frustrated because he has not been able to learn in the classroom what he needs to understand about the subject. 

 

Whatever the condition of the child at the moment is what dictates my response -- my "service."  I can have no agenda of my own to carry out: if she needs to talk, I need to listen; if he needs to understand, I need to explain; if the child is not feeling well, I need to take charge of the situation so the child can depend on me and rest. 

 

Sometimes my "service" means exercising authority.  If a child is too hyperactive to remain in control of himself, I need to find ways to allow him to let off steam in appropriate ways.  Sometimes I need to channel his activity in productive ways -- like walking around the room, bouncing a ball, and reciting his times tables.  Sometimes I need to teach him how to focus his mind on the task at hand so that he can feel in control and can feel successful as a student.

 

So "service" takes different forms; it does not mean letting the other take charge and command that we serve.  Sometimes it means that we take charge as part of our service.  But here's the key: "service" is based on the real needs of the other person, not on our own.  When I come to serve as a tutor, it does not matter whether I have not eaten lunch and am really hungry.  It does not matter that I am very hot and "need" a cold drink.  It does not matter that I got up at 3:00 a.m. and could use a nap right now.  All that matters is that I am there to serve the child in front of me.

 

Thinking about my experience as a tutor really helps me see what I am called to do in the rest of my life.  If someone needs to talk, I need to listen.  If someone needs assurance, or comfort, or a good meal, I am called to reassure, comfort, or cook.  If someone needs me to take charge, or to exercise authority, I need to be a leader, a teacher, or a parent.  Our role changes according to the needs of the other person.

 

Very few of us can really "get there" as servants because of our own deep needs and discomforts -- even our pain. We are blind and deaf to the needs of the other because our own needs are too great. Only when we allow Our Father in heaven, through the real ministry and service of His Son, Jesus, to carry our own burdens through the Holy Spirit, will we be free to serve others.  Someone has to be a servant to me before I can serve others, or I will be crushed by my own pain and conflicts.  Someone must lift the burden from my shoulders, and the rod from my back, and the pain from my heart before I can learn to be open to the needs of the world around me. 

 

Fortunately, God has sent His Son, not to condemn me for the pain I bear (though it may have been self-inflicted), but to "seek and to serve" those in pain.  He seeks us out to bear our burdens, to "take up all the causes of our lives," to free us from the slavery of sin and self-centeredness.  Then and only then can we in turn become the servants of all, as He asks us to do.

 

 

 

 

 



 



Wisdom and Knowledge

In the Garden of Paradise, there were two trees that were critical to our path of life -- two trees from which we must all choose at some point.  The Schocken Bible, a translation by Everett Fox, names the two trees as The Tree of Life in the midst of the garden and the Tree of Knowing of Good and Evil.  I think that translation gets us closer to the meaning we need, as "knowledge" is not really the same as "knowing,"  or "tasting."

Whenever Scripture uses the term "know," it means "to experience," in the sense of seeing, tasting, smelling, touching, hearing for oneself.  It is a concrete, right-now experience: "Adam knew Eve, and she conceived."  Even in the New Testament, Mary says to the angel, "How shall this be, as I do not know man."

The concept of disobedience as "tasting," or "finding out for ourselves" rather than being guided by wisdom is a very human experience.  From the time we are two years old, there seems to be something in human nature that wants to find out the hard way, as the expression goes.  The moment we are forbidden to do something is the moment that thing becomes even more attractive -- almost irresistible -- to us.  We are bound to taste the forbidden fruit, regardless of consequences.

As Everett Fox says in his commentary on the sin of Adam and Eve:

It should be recognized that the garden story...has been the subject of endless interpretation.  One line of thought takes the psychological point of view.  The story resembles a vision of childhood and of the transition to the contradictions and pain of adolecence and adulthood.  In every way -- moral, sexual, and intellectual -- Adam and Eve are like children, and their actions after partaking of the fruit seem like the actions of those who are unable to cope with newfound powers.  The resolution of the story, banishment from the garden, suggests the tragic realization that human being must make their way through the world with the knowledge of death and with great physical difficulty.  At the same time, the archetypal man and woman do not make the journey alone.  They are provided with protection (clothing) given to them by the same God who punished them for their disobedience.  We thus symbolically enter adulthood with the realization that being turned out of Paradise does not mean eternal rejection or hopelessness.

For most of us, "finding out the hard way," or "finding out for ourselves" is sort of the back door to wisdom.  We wanted to experience what the world had to offer us, and we found that, although the first taste was exciting and sweet, eating the whole apple inevitably led to bitterness and disappointment.  When we are led by external appearance, we often find that the "apple" has a rotten center -- but we discover it too late.  Knowledge based on our own experience is inevitably limited; we cannot see the spiritual energies or realities that are hidden beneath the surface.

In the past few days, I have been writing about people like Francis of Assisi and Catherine of Genoa, people who 'tasted' all the 'goodness' the world has to offer, but found that it failed to satisfy their hunger and thirst.  When they were finally given to eat from the "Tree of Life," they turned their back entirely on the world-as-a-Source-of-satisfaction.  Paradoxically, once they sought their sustenance from the Tree of Life, the world became more beautiful, more glorious, more loving and satisfying and more welcoming than ever before. 

Solomon tells us in the Book of Wisdom that he asked God for wisdom and he prized wisdom above all other gifts -- and he received that which he sought.  Along with wisdom, though, came "knowledge" and understanding: 

For he gave me sound knowledge of existing things, that I might know the organization of the universe and the force of its elements, the beginning and the end and the midpoint of times, the changes in the sun's course and the variations of the seasons.  Cycles of years, positions of the stars, natures of animals, tempers of beasts, powers of the winds and thoughts of men, uses of plants and virtues of roots---such things as are secret I learned, and such as are plain, for Wisdom, the artificer of all, taught me (Wisdom 7:17-22). 

 

It is hard for modern, scientific, man to believe that Wisdom and insight -- the gift of God infused into our very souls -- can possibly be better than what we can learn on our own.  But God does direct our thoughts, our reading, and our understanding if we will only allow Him to do so.  And His wisdom is greater than all the wisdom of the world.



Changing Pronouns

I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life.  No one comes to the Father but through Me (Jn.14:6).

 

Lord, You are the Way,

the Truth,

and the Life (Zoe).

No one comes to the Father

but through You.

 



At first, we "read" Scripture -- or sometimes "read through" Scripture.  But eventually the time comes when Scripture becomes prayer, and we find ourselves changing the pronouns as we read/prayer the words we see.  That is the moment of faith, the moment when knowing "about" God becomes "knowing God."

 

When I read the Psalms, I am struck by how many times the psalmist begins by reciting what he knows about God and then switches to a direct conversation -- prayer -- with the God about whom he was writing.  He changes the pronouns halfway through his meditation.

 

In Psalm 23, for example, David begins by praising God's loving care:

 

The Lord is my shepherd,

there is nothing I shall want.

He makes me lie down in green pastures,

he leads me beside still waters,

he restores my soul.

He guides me in paths of righteousness

for his name's sake.

 

In the midst of his recital of praise, the prounouns suddenly shift from the 3rd person - He- to the second person -- You:

 

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil,

for you are with me;

Your rod and your staff,

they comfort me.

 

You prepare a table for me

in the presence of my enemies.

You annoint my head with oil;

my cup overflows.

 

Surely goodness and kindness will follow me

all the days of my life,

and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

 

When we begin to sing what we know about God, or to pray, rather than simply read, Scripture, we find that we have moved into a personal relationship with the God of the Word, and with the Word of God.  We are no longer reading for information, the way we read a newspaper, or for entertainment, the way we read a novel.  Now, the words on the page have become spirit and life to us; they give us a way to prayer, a way to talk to our God.  And our prayer becomes our faith:

 

When Jesus says, I have chosen you that you might go and bear fruit -- fruit that will remain, we can pray, "Lord, You have chosen me to go and bear fruit that will remain.  Now show me today where to go and how to bear the fruit that will remain.  You are the vine; I am the branch.  The Life is in You and flows through me because I am attached to you.  Bear Your fruit in me today, and let me not stop the flow of Your Love to others I meet today.  Let me put no obstacle through laziness, indifference, or personal ambition in the work You choose to do today through me. Live Your life in me today."

 

We will find that praying what we read leads us out of our narrow world into a much larger and more vibrant existence; it is beyond anything we ourselves can ask or imagine, because it is being guided by the Spirit of God.  This kind of prayer also releases us from imagining that we have to begin reading the Bible in Genesis and continue reading until the end of Revelation.  Rather, we will trust the Good Shepherd to lead us to the "green pastures and still waters" of Scripture until our souls are restored.

Gift of the Holy Spirit

Still another example of mysticism -- of an experience of being "born again" after an experience of death:  Catherine of Genoa.  As the result of an unhappy marriage, Catherine experienced years of loneliness and depression.  In desperation, she turned to the world, which did not soothe her soul, and religion, which helped her no more than did the world around her.  Finally, she sank into a state of dull misery, a hatred of herself and of her life. 

Catherine's sister, grieving at seeing Catherine, insisted that she go to confession to a "holy man" who heard confessions at a nearby convent.  Catherine just could not do that, so her sister said, "At least, go and recommend yourself to him, because he is a most worthy man."  To please her sister, Catherine went and knelt before the priest (presumably to ask for his prayers) -- but instead, she received immediately such a clear vision of herself and of the goodness of God that she almost fell to the ground.  "It is for certain that for St. Catherine, as for St. Francis, an utterly new life did, literally, begin at this point" (Underhill, Mysticism*).

Jesus told Nicodemus that just as we cannot tell where the wind is coming from or where it is going, so neither can we grasp the work of the Spirit in us, except by the results.  We cannot produce the work of the Spirit in us by our own efforts -- just as the soil cannot produce fruit unless a seed is dropped into it.  But we can prepare the soul/soil to receive the Spirit by waiting for it and by looking for it. 

I remember back in the 70's when we had a prayer group at St. Lawrence in Kenner.  One of the women who started coming to the group seemed a little "cold," a little distant, although she was very gracious and sweet.  She just didn't "warm up" very well, and seemed to be wearing a stiff mask.  What none of us could know at the time was that her only daughter had committed suicide in her early 20's, and this woman had never gotten over it, as we would expect.  Like every one of us, she was probably bearing a terrible burden of guilt and shame, although (rationally) everyone knows she probably could have done nothing to prevent the tragedy.  Her "stiff mask" was masking unspeakable pain and sorrow.

After a few weeks of attending the prayer group, Julia (not her real name) arrived one evening like a burst of fresh air.  Her arrival reminded me of the times I have been outside at the very moment a cold front arrives -- suddenly, the temperature drops, the breeze picks up, and everything is dramatically changed for the better.  Julia came in that evening so changed in appearance that I could hardly believe it was the same person:  she was smiling, hugging people, laughing, celebrating.  I had never seen such a sense of overwhelming freedom in my life. 

She explained to us that she had had a dream the night before, in which her daughter was dancing, laughing, and saying, "O Mom, I am just so happy!"  Maybe there was more to the dream, but that's all I recall.  Immediately, that dream lifted the burden of guilt and oppression from Julia.  Somehow, her daughter's freedom and joy had passed into her very soul.  From that time until the day she died, Julia was the most loving, joyful, accepting person I had ever known.  Somehow, after her experience of crushing sorrow, she was given acceptance, love, and joy by the Spirit of God.

What made the difference in these people?  It was not the practice of religion, although all of them did "practice" some religion.  Rather, it was the sudden, unexpected, breath of the Most High entering their lives to lift them out of misery.  I don't think we can explain this kind of occurrance through psychological processes, but only by the Gift of the Holy Spirit.  In every case, either willingly or reluctantly, the person did something to open themselves somehow to the action of God: attended prayer meetings, knelt before a priest, or, in the case of Francis, stripped off his clothes in the town square -- probably not recommended for most of us. 

Once we have come to the end of our hopes and dreams, once we give up our struggle to solve every problem by our own efforts, we open the door to the Spirit of God -- and He cannot disappoint us.  The desire for God is awakened by an experience of deliverance from sorrow and grief, for most of us -- although as children, I think we are drawn naturally toward Him.  Our 'conversion' or turning from the world-as-solution to God-as-our-Help cannot come through intellectual reasoning, but only through an emotional experience.  We do not dismiss our minds as a source of knowledge, but the truth we need to satisfy our minds comes only after we know ourselves to have been "saved." 

The Israelites had to be led out of Egypt, the site of their oppression, before they could begin to learn to worship God, to be a community, a nation of just laws and good people, and to receive the Torah.  So it is with us; as long as we suffer from fear and oppression, religion cannot help us, though it may keep us from losing hope altogether.  But once we have experienced the power of God to save us, to deliver us from evil, to give us joy right in the midst of our present circumstances, we are "on our way" to the Land of Promise.

Awakening

Yesterday, I wrote about what Evelyn Underhill's study of mysticism calls "the awakening of the transcendental consciousness."  Some people might think this "awakening" is akin to religious conversion, but it is not the same thing.  Conversion to a religious doctrine or way of life might be the result of such an awakening -- or an individual can be "converted" without any "awakening" at all.

Rather, awareness of an active and Divine Presence not only in the universe but in my own life is "a disturbance of the equilibrium of the self, which results in the shifting of the field of consciousness from lower to higher levels, with a consequent removal of the center of interest from the subject to an object now brought into view" (Mysticism, p.?).

Underhill quotes Starbuck here as a way of explaining the process:

The first birth of the individual is into his own little world.  He is controlled by the deep-seated instincts of self-preservation and self-enlargement -- instincts which are, doubtless, a direct inheritance from his brute ancestry.  The universe is organized around his own personality as a center.  [In an awakening], the larger world-consciousness is now pressing in on the individual consciousness.  Often it breaks in suddenly and becomes a great new revelation.  This is the first aspect of [awakening]: the person emerges from a smaller limited world of existence into a larger world of being.  His life becomes swallowed up in a larger whole.

In her study, Underhill looks first at people who had been brought up in a Christian tradition and who had accepted its basic truths-- people like George Fox (1647), Catherine of Genoa, Francis of Assisi.  All of the people she studies were 'none the less conscious of an utter change in their world when this opening of the soul's eye took place." 

The most dramatic experience with which we are familiar is that of St. Paul:  the sudden light, the voice, the ecstasy, the complete alteration of life.  Such a dramatic change, according to Underhill, is really, as a rule, "the sequel and the result of a long period of restlessness, uncertainty, and mental stress.  The deeper mind stirs uneasily in its prison, and its emergence is but the last of many efforts to escape."
 
Finally, a "light" does appear, bringing with it three marked characteristics:  a sense of liberation and victory; a conviction of the nearness of God; and a sentiment of love towards God.

When Jesus said, " Unless ye be born again of water and of spirit (or Spirit), you cannot see the kingdom of God" (John 3, to Nicodemus), this is the experience He was referring to -- an awakening of the consciousness which moves us from the first birth, a narrow and self-centered universe, to the second, the birth of the Spirit, where we are more conscious of God's Presence in the world than we are of our own.

Sometimes the movement is gradual, and the pendulum swings back and forth between the two worlds.  St. Augustine describes his experience as being "drawn by the beauty of God and pulled back by his own weight."  In the case of St. Francis, there is a gradual movement toward God and then a sudden break between his two worlds, caused finally by the demands of his father that he stop giving away all his possessions to lepers and beggars.  In the public square, before the bishop and all the townsfolk, Francis stripped off all his clothes and returned them to his father.  "From now on," Francis said, "I have only one Father in heaven."  With that, Francis stepped firmly into God's world, depending on his heavenly Father for everything he needed from that point on.

For most of us, pain is the prelude to the new birth, just as it was for the first birth.  We are conscious of a period of intense struggle while we are waiting to be born, a struggle in which we almost despair of a solution, a struggle in which we contemplate it would be better to give up.  Suddenly, as the French mystic Lucie-Christine put it, we become aware of a "generous resolution [which] somehow places in our hands the means of carrying it out."

After such a period of intense pain and struggle, and after such a release into freedom and resolution, the overwhelming emotion is always worship and thanksgiving to the One Who set us free.  And that emotion does not fade with time, but grows ever stronger and more confident of the Presence and power of God. 

I am grateful that Underhill's study has been placed in my hands because it gives me a clarity of understanding about the "new birth" that Jesus referred to.  He was not talking about adherence to a set of beliefs -- that comes much later -- but about a change of vision and a new relationship with the Spirit of God, a "new breath" that brings life to our souls after an experience of death.

What Do We Really Know?

Is my experience such a wonderful realization of God's power and might that I can never despair of anyone I see?  The degree of panic is the degree of the lack of personal spiritual experience (Oswald Chambers: My Utmost for His Highest)

 

Guard well your heart, for out of it flow all the issues of life (Proverbs 4:23)

 

Recently, I saw an interview on BBC with the scientist who discovered the so-called "God Particle," the closest thing science has discovered to the origin of life.  The interviewer asked whether the scientist thought there was a conflict between science and religion.  For him, there was a conflict because, as he said, he could believe only in what he could see and test by experience.  For other scientists, though, he said there seemed to be no conflict between science and religion. 

 

When I studied philosophy, I learned that belief in and reliance on only what we know by experience is called "Empiricism." Empiricists believe that all human knowledge is through observation only.  When it comes to the area of spiritual truth, or the knowledge of spiritual things, however, there seems to be two paths to transcendence, or "mysticism," if you will. 

 

One of the paths does indeed begin with empirical observation, or experience of the world outside of us -- an experience that often somehow suddenly takes on new meaning, as if there were an infused Presence and significance to the moment.  In Man is Not Alone, Abraham Heschel describes a sense of "awe and wonder" that is the beginning of all religious experience. 

 

In her excellent treatise on mysticism, Evelyn Underhill says that there is for most people "a decisive moment," which she calls the awakening of the transcendental consciousness.  She studies the lives of a number of mystics who have described their "awakening" moments, moments that changed dramatically the entire course of their lives.  I have written previously of C.S. Lewis's "moment" when suddenly a door in the universe seemed to open before him while he was riding the upper deck of a public bus in London, and without understanding, he made a choice to walk through the door into the spiritual life.

 

For me, I would have to say that "moment" came definitively in my first year of college, although there of course were "small moments" all along the way leading up to that moment.  I was alone one Friday afternoon in the biology lab of St. Mary's Dominican College.  The lab was located on the second floor of the venerable old building which faced St. Charles Avenue, with its classic streetcars rumbling along the center tracks.  The floor-to-ceiling windows of the laboratory were open to the campus below, with its green spaces centered around a flowing and bubbling fountain.  It was a beautiful day in March, and I yearned to be a part of the outside beauty instead of dissecting a frog in the chemical environment of the lab.  But my project notebook was due on Monday morning, and this was my last chance to complete the anatomical drawings I needed. 

 

As I traced the process and workings of the execretory system, I was suddenly overwhelmed by the beauty of the body and its operations -- all carried out without our conscious attention.  I "saw" majesty and intelligent design in the system by which toxins were filtered out of our bodies without our knowledge, and then excreted safely outside of our bodies.  And surprisingly, one of the wonders I beheld in that almost mystic moment of awareness was the that whole process happened without any awareness on our part, until the final moment -- which was then within our control, so that we could "wait" until an appropriate moment to excrete the toxins within us.

 

My awareness of God as Loving Creator and Designer of the Universe at that moment was so strong that I had to resist the impulse to kneel on the old oaken floor and worship Him in a way I had never done before.  Only the fear of being discovered kneeling in adoration while alone in the lab kept me from falling to my knees.  I was shaken to the core of my being, much as the experience described in "The Groundhog," a poem by Richard Eberhardt we had studied in my senior year of high school.

 

For me, that was the moment of "awe and wonder" referenced by Heschel and the "awakening of transcendental consciousness" described by Evelyn Underhill.  I often look back now and laugh at God's sense of humor in using the execretory system of a frog to bring me to a mystical experience.

 

I do believe that looking closely at the external world, as the book of Romans says, brings us to a knowledge of God, for "the heavens declare the glory of God, and firmament proclaims His handiwork."  But if the common experience of mystics that we can study is true -- as in the case of C.S. Lewis and others, for example --empirical observation is not the only path to knowledge of spiritual truth. 

 

A second path to truth is by looking within ourselves, as Proverbs 4:23 indicates --by looking, observing, and holding fast to the truth within our hearts, "for out of it flow all the issues of life."

 

While I was traveling, I had much time to read and think about mysticism, guided by Underhill's book and Richard Rohr's Things Hidden: Scripture as Spirituality.  I was so impressed by both books, which unfold to me mysteries common to human experience, but which we often do not have the words to describe or analyze.  I would like in the coming days to try to capture in this space some insights for myself and for others, in order that I might not lose forever what I have learned from both writers.

 

I once told a friend who suggested that I 'spice up' my blog with more concrete detail that I was just allowing others to read my journal -- maybe a mistake.  After all, if one goes public with writing, the reader does have a right to expect that the writer is aware of her audience and of what the reader needs.  So I am always caught between the needs of my (few) readers and my need to capture my insights before they are lost.  Maybe that is why I rely so much on other writers to put into words what I have experienced in the spiritual life.

 

I want to 'pour out' into other's lives the richness of the things God has given to me -- but as Richard Rohr says, it is impossible to speak of the "best things,"  so we are left with the mission of trying to describe the "next best things"  (more on that later).

 

I believe that we are all made in such a way that it is possible to experience the "best things," even if we don't have the words to describe what we experience.  And so we are all left with what Oswald Chambers calls "a degree of panic," based on our lack of personal spiritual experience.  We know what we have experienced, but we have not solidified our experience by words or by attention to our experience, so it floats away from us, dismissed as "unreal" by Empiricists. 

 

Our lack of attention to the knowledge stored up in our "hearts" affects everything else in our lives.  Personal prayer, openess to the universe around us, spiritual reading, religion are all ways of attending to the "best things," the knowledge of God as He attempts to break through our pride of empiricism -- our "Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil."