On the Interior Life

Mary Magdalene was utterly devoted to Jesus.  The Gospel is laconic when it says, "out of her He cast 7 demons"   (Luke 8). We tend to go on reading, skimming over the statement.  But what if the names of the demons were "Hatred,"  "Depression,"  "Oppression,"  "Lust,"  "Opposition,"  "Dissension," "Anger"?  And what if, after one of them had been cast out by Jesus, he roamed the world seeking another dwelling only to return to Mary with 7 others worse than himself?  

One of the famous mystics, who was given the grace to see details of the lives of Jesus and Mary, said that when Jesus spoke his parable about the cast-out demon returning to the place he formerly inhabited, he was looking at Mary Magdalene.  The place had been swept clean, but nature and human nature both abhor a vacuum.  No life remains empty of worship.  It doesn't help to know what we don't believe unless we know what we do believe.  Emptiness invites something or someone to enter, "and the last state of the man may be worse than the first."

On the beginning of the Interior Life, Father Garrigou-Lagrange, a Dominican theologian, says this:

As soon as a man ceases to be outwardly occupied, to talk with his fellow men, as soon as he is alone, even in the noisy streets of a great city, he begins to carry on a conversation with himself...If he is fundamentally egotistical, his intimate conversation with himself is inspired by sensuality or pride.  He converses with himself about the object of his cupidity, of his envy; finding therein sadness and death, he tries to flee from himself, to live outside of himself, to divert himself in order to forget the emptiness and the nothingness of his life.  In this intimate conversation of the egoist with himself, there is a certain very inferior self-knowledge and a no less inferior self-love....

The egoist knows little about the spiritual part of his soul, that which is common to the angel and to man.  Even if he believes in the spiriituality of the soul and of the highter faculties, intellect and will, he does not live in this spiritual order.  He does not, so to speak, know experimentally this highter part of himself and does not love it sufficiently.

Something must occupy the interior life--the soul must converse with someone other than itself.  So what if Mary's demons were driving her to destroy herself, to flee from herself, to try to escape the emptiness of her life, from which she was driving others away?  And what if instead of depression, oppression, hatred, dissension, anger, etc, the Spirit of God began to fill her emptiness with love, peace, patience, joy, kindness, generosity, goodness, patience, and self-control (see Galatians 5).  And what if she began to love what she saw and experienced within herself for the first time in her life?   And what if she began to love others instead of driving them away?  

Would not all of this explain her absolute devotedness to Jesus, the doorway through which she walked to a whole new and eternal life?

 

Give Up the Ego-Drama! — Bishop Barron’s Sunday Sermon

What more can I say?  He says it all!

The Journey Toward God

In 1977, I had a profound and unexpected conversion experience, which I have written about previously, in which I was "baptized in the Holy Spirit" after being prayed over in the hospital.  

Initially, I connected the event with a temporary phenomenon, perhaps an emotional experience, which would eventually disappear. Instinctively, I knew that there was no power within my own nature that could continue this newfound awakening of my spirit towards God.  Within a few weeks, I expressed my fear to my doctor, who had first prayed for me for the baptism of the Holy Spirit.  He laughed and said that he also had experienced the "baptism" some 14 years previously, and that it does not go away, but only gets better over time.    You do not have the Holy Spirit, he said to me; He has you, and He is not letting go.  If you leave Him at the corner, He does not wait until you come back.  He goes right around the corner with you and keeps guiding you in the right path.

My experience with the Holy Spirit was a "moment" in time that I can look back on now, some 44 years later.  As I began to grow in the Spirit with the help of friends and a supportive community, I asked a few times at first:  Is this real, or are we imagining things?  I did not want to be caught up in an emotional experience fed by others who were also deluded -- sort of like a Jim Jones cult.  Once, in prayer, I even told the Lord that I did not want to imagine that He was guiding me if this was all my imagination.  "Did you imagine things like this before the baptism?" the Voice inside said to me.  I had to admit that my imagination before this experience was practically dead to the things to God, while very alive and active toward fear and anxiety about the world around me.  Now, the things I was "imagining" brought me joy and confidence instead of worry.

During the past two years in our parish, as we began studying Alan Schreck's book, Your Life in the Holy Spirit,  I have watched at least three men in the parish also go through a kind of awakening to the action of the Holy Spirit in their lives.  For them, there has been no "moment" of conversion, but rather a gradual movement that has been more like a pilot light softly moving into flame.  As we studied and discussed each chapter week after week, one of the men described what was happening to him as "shifting from first into second gear."  Far from an emotional experience, these men have softly and gradually begun to become active in parish activities, reaching out to others, and leading discussion groups, taking leadership roles and emerging from the pews.  Anyone watching from a distance as I have been doing can see that something has happened in these men.  They are more attentive to the spiritual life in themselves and in others.  They are no longer afraid to talk about their faith, and they are considering ways to bring other men into the kind of experience they have had.

Yesterday, I started reading an anthology of great spiritual writers -- Catholic, Protestant, and Orthodox.  The book is called The Journey Toward God, edited by Benedict Groeschel.  In his introduction, Groeschel writes:

Conversion, or metanoia, as the Greek New Testament refers to it, is the first real experience of the Christian spiritual life.  For some who have grown up in a devout home and have never deviated much from Christ's teaching, conversion takes on more the aspect of an awakening, like the call of Nathanael, who was asleep under a tree and whom our Lord called a man without guile.  Others, who have never really been active disciples even though they were baptized, or who have simply had no relation to the Gospel at all and are unbaptized, may experience a conversion that affects every level of their lives.  If their conversion is authentically spiritual, it will be experiential (affecting how they perceive things), theological (affecting what they believe), moral (affecting what they do), and even emotional (affecting what they feel).  In the beginning of a conversion, the emotional and spiritual are so close to each other that they are experienced as the same thing.  In time a wise person will come to see that they are not identical at all.

Why do I believe in the Holy Spirit?  I have seen Him, so to speak, living and acting in myself and in others for 44 years now, gradually changing people, including myself, in mysterious ways, and drawing them deeper and deeper into a relationship with God and with other people.  Some things just cannot be denied! 

The Gift

 Catholicism is not just one religion among many.  If the purpose of religion is to allow us to share in the life of the Divine Presence and Love, Catholicism offers the Gift of the Presence and Love of Jesus Christ in a unique way -- in the Sacrament of the Eucharist.

As I near my own death, I gather up all the joy, all the love, all the richness of life that I have experienced and with great desire, wish that I could offer it to those I love, to enrich their lives.  I wish that I could say to them: Eat This; Drink This -- Let it become a part of you.  

And Jesus, the night before He died, offered us not only His death, but all that He had experienced of this human and divine life -- His great love for the Father, His great love for mankind, His immense enjoyment of all of creation!  "Take and eat," He said; "the richness of my own life and joy will become a part of your life and joy."

He gave us a way to enter into his mind, his soul, his strength, his will.  "Put on Christ Jesus," Paul tells us in Romans, "and make no provision for the weakness of the flesh" (Romans 13:14).  When St. Augustine read those words, he understood for the first time what it meant to "put on Christ" -- to share in His humanity as well as in His divinity.

All that Christ is, is offered to us in the Eucharist.  We don't have to "think" it to receive it -- it is freely given to us.  "A great king gives a banquet," Jesus tells us in the parable, but we are too busy, too preoccupied, too not-interested, to partake of the Gift of Himself.  He left us a way to share in His own life, but our own lives are more interesting now.

"This is my body," He said -- more than just his flesh, but His Life: what He loves, what He thinks, what He appreciates, what He understands -- all of who and what He is, what He did, what He does.

"This is my blood," my health, my antibodies, my Life -- Drink this, and you will have zoe (joy, energy, zest, spirit, the divine spark of life) in addition to biological life.

If you do not eat my body, said Jesus (John 6), you will have no life in you.  And this He was speaking to living human beings standing before Him:  you will have no life in you.  What was He talking about? they wondered.

I wish I could wrap up my own life in a package and offer to others.  "Take this," I would say, "and eat it.  You will love it!"  But of course, my life, rich as it is, would not even be a brief taste of the eternal life He offers us week after week.  "Take this," He says, "you will love it!"

Where Can We Find God?

 Where can we go to meet with God?  How shall we pray when we don't know how to pray?  Where has God been in your life?  Where has He led you?  What doors has He opened for you?  

Our lives, our histories, are where we find the Divine Presence.  God led Abraham from Ur of the Chaldees to Haran, and from there to Canaan.  And how exactly did He "lead" Abraham?  Through peace, through "I am with you always."  Every night, as Abraham rested from his journey, he built an altar to God, and in that worship, he was assured of God's Presence and of His leading for the next day.

When we begin to pray, it helps to review in God's Presence where we have been, where we have come from, where we have gone to.  Our very lives reveal the presence of God; there we will meet Him.

Who are the people we have met along the way?  Who has become our friend, our support, our mentor?  Who has opened a door for us?  Found us a job?  Given us a recommendation?  Who has believed in us and made us laugh?  All these have been gifts from God to support us on the way.  

Even the books that have influenced us, inspired us, informed us have been God's direction for our lives, and a sign of His presence.  When the college moved me from the classroom to administration, my life changed entirely.  Everything was different and disorienting.  Time and responsibility were discrete issues when I was in the classroom.  Every hour was marked by some specific duty -- teaching, office hours, committee meetings, planning sessions, etc.  If I awoke in the middle of the night, it was usually an "aha" moment, a creative idea to solve a problem. 

 Once I assumed administrative duties, I usually awoke with a stressful moment, a nightmare.  I could not do my job until someone else completed theirs, and there was little I could do to hurry them along.  In addition, my paperwork and projects stacked up daily on my desk.  I was afraid to file things away until they had been taken care of, and everything depended on waiting for someone else.  I felt as if I were drowning every day.  And then......just I thought I was too far in over my head, I somehow found a book by David Allen called Getting Things Done.  After reading about 20 pages, I headed to my office on a weekend and spent two days re-organizing my work and projects.  As I continued to read that book, I began to feel as if God had thrown me a lifeline just as I was about to go under.  

Looking back on my life, I find many "rescues," from the time I was graduating from high school until the present day.  I find unbelievable friends who appeared just when I needed their presence and guidance in my life.  I find favor/grace given at every turn.  I find large and small miracles given at times of desperation and confusion.  

In my own history, I find God--- "I am with you."  Emmanuel!  And because He has been with me always, I can trust Him for the next step, the next day, the next project......

Then Neither Do I Condemn You

 If we want to see the face of God, all it takes is to look closely at the story of the woman caught in adultery (John, Chapter 8).  The teachers of the Law and the Pharisees brought the woman to Jesus, thinking they were clearly in the right to condemn her.  Yet, He bent down and began writing on the ground with his finger.  They kept on questioning (read "bugging") Him, ignoring whatever He was writing in the dust.  He straightened up and replied, "If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her."  

In my imagination, I see Him gesturing to what He had written on the ground when He spoke.  We have a clue as to what that might have been in the 17th chapter of Jeremiah:  

The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure.  Who can understand it?  I the Lord search the heart and examine the mind...

O Lord, those who turn away from you will be written in the dust because they have forsaken the Lord, the spring of living water....

Do not be a terror to me; you are my refuge in the day of disaster.  Let my persecutors be put to shame, but keep me from shame; let them be terrified, but keep me from terror.  Bring on them the day of disaster; destroy them with a double destruction. 

If her accusers did look at what was written in the dust, they may have been terrified.  In any case, one by one, they slinked away, leaving only Jesus with the woman.  He was the only one present who was qualified by His own measure to cast the first stone.  And yet, having turned away her accusers, He now says to her, "Then neither do I accuse you."  

We can only imagine her relief and gratitude, especially if we call to mind what happens today in Islamic countries to those who break Sharia law:  They are stoned, thrown from high buildings, publicly flogged, and tortured.  Jesus rescued this woman from certain death: "Neither do I condemn you!"  

No one has ever seen God, but God the only Son, who is at the Father's side, has made Him known (Jn. 1:18).  Neither do I condemn you....go and sin no more!

The Gospel of Mark

 The reason the Son of God appeared was to destroy the work of the devil (1 John 3).

In this world, you will have trouble.  But take heart! I have overcome the world (John 16).

...the prince of this world now stands condemned (John 16).

The Gospel of Mark begins subversively:  The beginning of the gospel about Jesus Christ, the Son of God.  In the Roman Empire of Mark's day, the word we translate "gospel" (good news) (euangelion in Greek) had a specific application.  It referred to the "good news" that the barbarians, the uncivilized peoples on the fringes of the empire, had been conquered, and that Roman "civilization" had been brought to yet another corner of the earth.  As the Roman emperor or another general was returning to Rome with his captives chained, emissaries were sent ahead of the procession to herald the "good news" of yet another conquest for Rome.  

Moreover, the Roman emperor was considered divine, the "son of God."  To be a citizen of Rome meant to acknowledge with incense the divinity of the emperor -- the "Augustus," or "August One."  For us to read "the beginning of the gospel about Jesus Christ, the Son of God," it only means that we are about to read a book about Jesus, whom we know to be the Anointed One.  In the Roman Empire, those few words were a direct challenge to the rule and the divinity of Augustus Caesar.  It meant that there was another "son of God" who had conquered the outer edges of darkness and who now reigned in triumph.  There is now another "kingdom" alongside the Roman conquest of the known world.

The entire Gospel of Mark unfolds in explanation of that first sentence.  About one-fourth of his gospel is about the "mighty deeds" of Jesus -- healing of the blind and deaf, casting out demons, healing of a woman with a hemorrhage and a paralytic man.  These are not just "stories," but demonstrations of the kingdom of God breaking into, and overcoming, a dark and fallen world.  Jesus is conquering and destroying the work of the devil, as the first letter and gospel of John tell us -- the prince of this world now stands condemned.  

Immediately after his baptism by John, Jesus goes into the wilderness to confront Satan.  The battle is on!  He suffers the temptations that Satan offers to all mankind -- to use our "power" to satisfy our own hunger, to attain recognition and pride, and the lust to dominate in the words of St. Augustine (City of God).  Having come to the end of His own resources and human power in the desert, He is now ready to overcome the kingdom of darkness in the power of God.

The very first of the miracles reported by Mark comes as Jesus begins teaching at Capernaum.  A man in the synagogue who was possessed by an evil spirit cries out: "What do you want with us, Jesus of Nazareth?  Have you come to destroy us?"  Like King Herod threatened at the birth of a new ruler of the Jews, the rulers of this world ("the Prince of this world") are threatened by His appearance.  His kingdom will conquer theirs, and they know it.

At the very beginning of the Gospel, we see the significance of Jesus' miracles:  the overcoming by God of the evil forces at work in the world.  The spirit knows that Jesus has come to destroy "us" -- all of Satan's forces that wreak havoc in the world -- sickness, evil possession, sin, hatred, death ---the things that have destroyed what God has created and intended for mankind.

In Jesus Christ, God is actively fighting the evil that threatens to destroy mankind, and in Jesus' death, the ultimate confrontation with evil forces, their destruction is ensured forever.  There is nothing more fundamental to the Christian faith than the belief that in Jesus, God has overcome evil:  The kingdom of God is at hand!  "In all these things, we are more than conquerors through him who loved us" (Romans 8:37) and we know that God makes all things work for the good of those who love him (8:38).

I write this today at the time of terrible destruction through tornadoes in eight states, along with the horrible fires and floods that increasingly threaten the world we live in.  I pray that in all things we may discover the peace that overcomes the world of hatred, division, natural disasters, sickness, and death.  Jesus has come to destroy the work of the devil.  May we believe and accept that He has already done so, and may we, like Mark, announce the "good news" of the kingdom of God breaking into a dark world!

The Mercy Seat

 In the 25th chapter of Exodus, God gave Moses instructions for building the Tabernacle, wherein God would dwell among his people.  The ark of the covenant, which held the Testimony, or the Law, was the holiest part of the tabernacle. 

The chest itself was to be made of acacia wood -- a wood considered incorruptible and impervious to insects and decay.  The wood was to be overlaid with pure gold inside and out. Above the ark was to be an "atonement cover," sometimes translated as "mercy seat," of pure gold.  Two cherubim were to be placed at the end of the cover, one at each end, with their wings spread upward, overshadowing the ark. There above the cover between the two cherubim that are over the ark of the Testimony, I will meet with you and give you all my commands for the Israelites (25:22).

Symbolically in the bible, wood was the sign for man; gold, for divinity.  In Jesus, we have the purest "wood," or man, overlaid with gold, or divinity.  In Him is the "Testimony," or Word of God; He Himself is the Word, and the Word became flesh and tabernacled for a while among us (John 1).

In most Catholic churches today, the cross of Christ is displayed over the tabernacle, or Ark of the Covenant, containing the Word of God.  His cross is the "atonement cover,' or "mercy seat:" there I will meet with you and give you all my commands.  Jesus bore testimony to the Covenant between God and man; in Him are all the commands, or words of life, given to us by God.  His death is our atonement (at-one-ment) with God.  

If we ever doubt that God is with us, for us, among us, the Cross over the Tabernacle should be our assurance that "there," God becomes one-with-us.

Grace, Grace, and More Grace

 The concept of Grace is a very abstract one to a child.  Our catechism taught us that Grace is "the unmerited favor of God," but the words "unmerited" and "favor" had absolutely no concrete reference to me beyond their dictionary definition.  A child does not think about "meriting" the "favor" of his/her parents.  Rather, she takes for granted that her parents love her, and will do the best for her, merited or not.  (I realize that I was a very fortunate child.)

To complicate things even further, there were illustrations in our book supposed to represent Grace.  Three milk bottles were pictured (this was in the days of milkmen and milk deliveries). One of the bottles was black, signifying the soul without Grace; one of them was pure white, showing the soul "full of grace," and one bottle was white with black spots, showing both grace and sin in the soul.  Of course, I wanted to be full of grace, but other than Mass and Communion, I wasn't sure how to do that.  And worse, I puzzled over exactly what this grace was that could fill the soul completely.

In high school religion classes, we learned about "actual grace," "sanctifying grace," "prevenient grace," and maybe some other kinds of grace I have now forgotten.  We learned the words, but not the practical examples that would help us understand grace.  

In Your Life in the Holy Spirit, Alan Schreck points out that "it is important to distinguish between the natural capacity of the mind to comprehend things and the gift of the Holy Spirit that enables a person to grasp the real meaning and implications of their faith and of other truths" (p.69).....and "We should think that God desires the truths of the faith to be matters of deep personal conviction and knowledge, which is a work of the Holy Spirit.  In short, God desires the truths we believe as Christians to come alive and assume real meaning for our lives through the Holy Spirit" (p. 70).

With the ministry of the Holy Spirit in my life to reveal Truth, I have come to understand, see, and love "ordinary grace," my own term which probably covers all the officially named graces in the catechism.  Ordinary grace -- the grace of God's loving-kindness and unmerited favor going ahead of all my daily needs, covering my carelessness and inattention, and guiding me through troublesome days and nights.

Every day is a day of "grace," giving me songs of joy.  St. John of the Cross said this: "The soul of one who loves God always swims in joy, always keeps holiday, and is always in the mood for singing."  Now that's a definition of grace that I can sink my teeth into!  Those spots in the milk bottle --- that's where we have limited or blocked God's favor and kindness towards us, where we have chosen our own way and refused to allow Him to favor and guide us.

We are preparing to downsize and move to a smaller house.  I had no idea of how difficult it would be to let go of all the things we have been collecting for 50 years.  (St. Francis had the right idea!)  We are moving to a house where the rooms are small, and where there is absolutely no storage space, so in preparation, I have ordered a few storage cabinets for the laundry room.  But that means the cabinets will have to be assembled, in addition to all the other projects and cleaning involved in a move of this magnitude.  Yesterday afternoon, the high school kid down the block appeared on my doorstep.  He needs service hours now and next semester for school and wanted to know if I had anything he could do.  I was stunned by "actual grace," "sanctifying grace," and "prevenient grace"  --- or "ordinary grace," the unmerited favor of God.  Even before the first cabinet had arrived, God has made provision for my need!  I know this young man, as he and his father appeared as an answer to prayer after the last hurricane with chain saws to clean up our property.  He is a hard-working, trustworthy person who has a great work ethic.  I can trust him to do the job right.  I told him that I had a project for both him and a friend if they wanted to put together my storage cabinets --- surely worth more hours than needed by just one of them. 

Grace, grace, and more grace!  Grace for every day's most quiet need, in the words of Elizabeth Barret Browning's poem, "How Do I Love Thee?"  Ordinary grace -- that is, the favor of God that anticipates our most simple needs and that will not fail us: 

 "Give us this day our daily bread," and someone to lend a helping hand when we need it!

 Jesus has taken up my life as His own.  "He was not ashamed to call them brothers" (and friends), for that is why He came -- to take up our lives as His own life.  When the Father looks at us, He sees us as One with His Son, as His Son's bride, and He welcomes us as He welcomes his very own Son, as we would welcome the spouse of one of our very own children.  Now there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus (Romans 8).

We tend to think of Jesus as apart from ourselves, as "out there," while we are "in here," struggling to make ends meet, so to speak.  But He has taken up all the causes of my life, in one of the translations of Lamentations 3:

Those who were my enemies without cause
hunted me like a bird.
They tried to end my life in a pit
and threw stones at me;
the waters closed over my head,
and I thought I was about to be cut off.

I called on your name, O Lord,
from the depths of the pit.
You heard my plea: "Do not close your ears to my cry for relief."
You came near when I called you, and you said, "Do not fear."

O Lord, you have taken up all the causes of my life;
You redeemed my life.

When Jesus went through His agony and crucifixion, it was because He had taken up the causes of my life, of your life.  How many of us have gone through or are going through what can only be called agony --- the agony of being despised or bullied or dismissed or discounted; the agony of loneliness, of feeling misunderstood, or left out; the agony of cancer, or MS, or life-threatening disease; the agony of separation by death from those closest to us?

When people have to flee their beloved homes and families because of fire, drought, floods, persecution; when the elderly have to be warehoused in nursing homes, when political prisoners are tortured, when children are starved and beaten, there is Someone who himself suffers and has suffered along with us:  Because of the Lord's great love, we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail.  They are new every morning (Lamentations 3).

This is what the Resurrection of Jesus teaches us -- suffering and cruelty are not the final answer.  There is something else to come; there is newness of life from what appears to be the triumph of evil over goodness. No matter how much we kill God or one another, He is not yet finished with us.  He is always greater than what man or demon can devise, and His power is at the service of His mercy and His love.  Psalm 138 says:

In the presence of the angels I will praise you;

I will bow down toward your holy temple,

 and will praise your name for your love and your faithfulness,

for you have exalted above all things your name and your word.

When I called, you answered me;

You built up strength within me....

Though I walk in the midst of trouble,

You will revive me:

You stretch out your hand against the anger of my foes,

with your right hand, you save me.

The Lord will perfect that which concerns me.

Jesus came in the flesh not only to teach us how to live, but also to actively take up the causes of each life that will allow Him to enter.  He is one with us, and He will bring to completion all the things that concern us.  He who led Mary and Joseph and the Child into Egypt to escape the terror of Herod will surely lead us beyond our present circumstances, even though we face the horror of death and destruction:  Though I walk in the midst of trouble, You will revive me.....

You Were Always on My Mind

 Sadly, music has not played a huge role in my life --- I was always more oriented to books --- but the first time I heard Willie Nelson sing "You Were Always on My Mind," I knew this was a song I would not soon forget.  And now that my children are grown and moved away, now that I have lost very close friends to death, now that I have found new friends and have become part of their lives, Willie Nelson seems to be singing just to me.

The story of each life is marvelous and precious; each person deserves to have at least one other person who knows and keeps the story of one's life.  To "know" another person means to understand their story -- where they are coming from, what they value, what they hope for.  Although I do not converse with my children on a daily, or even a weekly, basis, they are always on my mind.  I think about what they are going through, what they suffer, what they enjoy, what they are hoping for --- all the time.  They are never very far away from me; in a sense, they are in me and with me always.

My brothers and sisters also live within me.  I rejoice when I hear their news, what is happening in their lives, and I desire to be part of what they experience as much as possible.  I grieve when they are ill and smile when I hear their voices.  I want to know about their children and grandchildren -- all the stories that make up a family.

And my new friends, those whose stories I hear and keep up with, they are always on my mind, too.  I am concerned about their illnesses; I rejoice when they have good news; I pray for their concerns.  I wake up during the night thinking about them.

All of this is what it means to be "in Christ, and Christ in me."  In the discourse on the Vine and the branches (John 15), Jesus says, "If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing."  If you were to Google "Christ in me," you'd find more than a dozen quotes about being "in Jesus."  Jesus spoke so often about himself being in the Father, and the Father in Him.  But at the last supper, He seemed anxious that the disciples and those coming after them would remain in both the Father and in Himself:  in that day, you will know that I am in my Father, and you are in me, and I am in you (John 14:19-20).

God himself knows our stories and keeps them; He himself dwells in our stories and does not forget them.  He enters into our stories and struggles; He takes up the causes of our lives, and struggles within us to make them fruitful for us:  

But Zion said, "The Lord has forsaken me, the Lord has forgotten me."

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; you walls are ever before me (Is. 49).

If Willie Nelson kept the story of his love, despite human failing and neglect, how much more the One Who created us, Who loves us, Who has come after us.....how much more will we be "in" Him and He in us? 

 

 

 

 

The Icon and the Word

 

My favorite icon is the one pictured here, of Jesus the Teacher.  Icons are meant to be "read," as literature is read.  In Russian Orthodox churches, one is surrounded on every side by icons; the idea is that one is able to gaze into heaven through the eyes of the icon, and heaven in turn looks back at us through the eyes of the icon.

Sometimes the icon above is portrayed with an open instead of a closed book, but in both cases, the meaning is the same:  Only Jesus can "open the book" for us; without Him, the Bible is a closed book.  St. John begins his gospel of Jesus Christ with the words, In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.  Jesus is the Word of God made flesh, made visible, made "touchable" for us.  Through Him, we see God, we approach God, we touch God.  Without Him, God remains for us an idea, a philosophy, or made in our own image.  John goes on to say, For the law was given through Moses, but grace and truth came through Jesus Christ.  No one has ever seen God, but God the only Son, who is at the Father's side, has made him known.

If the Bible is divorced from the Person of Jesus Christ, it becomes a dead book.  Although it has been studied by every discipline known to man, the Bible essentially remains closed to us until Jesus Himself opens the book and begins to unfold it to us. 

A woman I know recently told me an amazing story about her life.  She grew up in an abusive home and decided when she was 14 that she no longer believed the "fairy tales" that religion told -- none of it was real or believable to her.  She fled her home at the first opportunity, only to get into an abusive marriage, followed by four more marriages of the same kind.  Finally, in desperation, she cried out to God for help.  One night, she suddenly awoke out of a deep sleep to find Jesus standing next to her.  She saw only Light in the shape of a man, but the light was filled with words from top to bottom.  He did not speak to her, but she understood immediately that Jesus was and is the Word of God.  The next morning, she started to read the Bible for the first time in her life.

Shortly afterwards, she met a man who had grown up Catholic but who was now attending the Baptist Church, and she started going to church with him.  Eventually they married, and for the first time in her life, she was experiencing what it meant to be loved.  Although she was enjoying the Baptist church because it was helping us to understand and digest the Bible, her husband was beginning to yearn for the church of his youth.  "I need to go back to the Catholic church," he told her, "I cannot pray in this church."  "Why do you want to do that?" she asked.  "Go back to where they worship all those statues?" She told him she would go to the Catholic church with him for 3 months, and then she would go back to the Baptist church, and he could do whatever he wanted.  The first time she attended a Catholic Mass, she fell in love:  "This is true worship," she said; "it no longer depends on the preacher, or the music, or the fellowship, but only on true worship."  

Now my point here is not really which church has true worship, but it's this: the Word of God Himself began to teach her, to open the Book to her, and to lead her where she would find peace and joy.  The purpose of God is not to make us Scripture scholars, erudite in understanding, but to lead us to Himself.  We read the Bible not to be "educated," but in order to enter into the same relationship of loving intimacy with God that Jesus had/has, to become sons and daughters of God, sharing in His divine nature through Jesus' sonship.

The Gospels are full of incidents where the disciples fail to understand Jesus and His frustration at their lack of understanding.  But after the Resurrection, He seemingly cannot wait to begin unfolding the Scriptures to them, now through the Spirit rather than through the flesh.  On the same morning of the Resurrection, he appears to the disciples on the way to Emmaus, and "opens their minds to understand the Scriptures" (Luke 24).  "Were not our hearts burning within us while he talked with us on the road and opened the Scriptures to us?"  He said to them, "this is what I told you while I was still with you; Everything must be fulfilled that is written about me in the Law of Moses, the Prophets, and the Psalms."

If we want to understand the Law of Moses, the Prophets, and the Psalms, the best place to begin is by standing before the Icon, metaphorically at least, and looking into the eyes of heaven, asking for the Gift of the Spirit of God, given to us in Christ Jesus.  Then the Book will be opened to us, and instead of "scratching our heads" over the obscure manuscripts, our hearts will be burning within us.

Opening the Door

 Behold, I stand at the door and knock.  If anyone will open to Me, I will come in and sup with him and he with Me (Rev. 3:20).

At our church, there are two groups who are reading Your Life in the Holy Spirit by Alan Schreck.  You might call these groups "book clubs," but really, the book serves more as meditation and awareness of how the Holy Spirit operates in our lives, so our purpose is to draw closer to the Holy Spirit.  As we reflect together on where we have seen and heard the Spirit of God in our lives, we draw strength from the stories we hear.

One man told us last week that he had come to the first group meeting but not to the second, because the group meets early Sunday morning, not his best time.  However, as he was reading the book, he suddenly became aware for the first time in his life of the Holy Spirit.  You might say the Holy Spirit became present to him for the first time.  Looking up, he glanced out the window and saw a single dove alight right outside his window, more or less confirming the awareness that had just come upon him.  

If the story stopped there, one might say it was a nice story, a moment in his life.  But the story continues.... This man had been raised Catholic, going to church, but like many people, had stopped attending church for many years until recently.  He married a Baptist woman but didn't like the Baptist church so they attended a Methodist church for awhile.  However, he found that he missed the Catholic Mass because he said he couldn't pray in the Methodist church --- too much was going on there.  When they both started going to the Catholic church, his wife fell in love with the church and became Catholic.  And then continued to grow, becoming eventually a catechist and active in the church, kind of leaving him behind in his lack of interest.  

Suddenly, however, after this "moment" of awareness of the Holy Spirit, he cannot get enough.  He continues to read the book with enthusiasm; he showed up early Sunday morning for the third meeting of the group, and he finds himself following the Mass with interest and devotion.  That kind of dynamism is typical of those who suddenly (or gradually) encounter the presence of the Holy Spirit in their lives.

Jesus told the apostles that they would receive "power" when the Holy Spirit comes upon them.  In the Greek text, the word we translate "power" is dunamis, our root word for "dynamite."  Even for life-long Catholics or church-goers, there is no dynamite in their faith without the presence and action of the Holy Spirit.  The work of the Holy Spirit is to transform our bland worship into matters of deep personal conviction and knowledge.  Faith without knowledge is okay, but faith with knowledge and understanding brings joy.

The question remains, "How do we open the door to the Presence of the Holy Spirit in our lives?"  Evidently, it does not take much, as this gentleman was reading only the first chapter of Your Life in the Holy Spirit.  But it seems to me that if we even crack open the door of our hearts a little, the Spirit rushes in.  The word "enthusiasm" literally means "God within."  God does not really enjoy our bland worship, but trying to manufacture enthusiasm with music and emotional appeals does not work for very long.  It takes the Holy Spirit within to awaken a real and lasting love for God and for others.

Jesus' promise to come in if we but open the door is encouraging -- our house does not need to be in order; we just have to allow Him entrance, and He will do the rest!

On Gathering and Scattering

 He who is not with me is against me, and he who does not gather with me scatters (Matt. 12:30).

There it is, laid out in the simplest terms imaginable --- either we are for Him or against Him; either we gather with Him or we scatter.

One of the ancient terms for the devil is lo diabolo, meaning "to scatter" or separate.  And from the first pages of Genesis, we see the effects of the evil one -- to separate man from God, to separate man from wife, to separate brother from brother.  The cry of Cain is pitiful:  My punishment is more than I can bear. Today, you are driving me from the land, and I will be hidden from your presence; I will be a restless wanderer on the earth, and whoever sees me will kill me (Gen. 4).  Adam and Eve passed on to the next generation their own separation from God, from one another, and from the fruitfulness of the land.  But, as every parent knows, the characteristics we pass on to our children are intensified in the next generation.  

The first eleven chapters of Genesis set the stage, form a backdrop, for the drama of redemption that begins in Chapter 12.  The final chapter of the prologue, Chapter 11, is the Tower of Babel, the ultimate separation, where men could not even understand the language spoken by one another, and "from there the Lord scattered them over the face of the earth," presumably so they would not all kill one another.

The remedy for man's tendency to separate and scatter is Abraham:  In you, all nations will be blessed. First, a family; then a tribe, then a nation/kingdom, and finally, Jesus, the King, who will gather the lost tribes of Israel and then the entire earth under one head, the kingdom of God.

When Jesus announced, "the kingdom of God is among you," the Jews of his time would have known what that meant -- the Messiah was to regather the lost and separated tribes of Israel and re-establish the kingdom of David.  So first the 12 apostles, representing the original 12 tribes of Israel, all descended from the 12 sons of Jacob/Israel.  But His kingdom was to extend even further -- to the Gentiles as well, according to His promise to Abraham:  all nations will bless themselves through you!

I have been reading recently The Way of a Pilgrim, a 19th-century Russian work recounting the adventures of a mendicant pilgrim.  Along the way, he meets various teachers, monks, fellow travelers, etc --- all of whom teach him something about the spiritual life.  Two of the "lessons" he learns impressed me so that I copied them myself:

The soul which is inwardly united to God becomes, in the greatness of its joy, like a good-natured, simple-hearted child, and now condemns no one, Greek, heathen, Jew, nor sinner, but looks at them all alike with sight that has been cleansed, finds joy in the whole world, and wants everybody ----Greeks and Jews and heathen --- to praise God.

The inward contemplative burns with so great a love that if it were possible he would have everyone dwell within him, making no difference between bad and good...So I advise you to lay aside your fierceness, and look upon everything as under the all-knowing providence of God, and when you meet with vexations, accuse yourself especially of lack of patience and humility (p.140). 

 This, it seems to me, is the ultimate 'gathering,' the refusal to alienate anyone.  The book of Romans tells us that the love of God is spread abroad in our hearts by the Holy Spirit.  That is, what we are unable to achieve in our natural state -- to love God by our own effort, and to love others by overcoming our natural antipathy---God Himself achieves in us through the gift of the Holy Spirit -- His own Love.

When I look at our beloved country today, all I can see is separation.  The land itself mourns and grieves at man's alienation from it, at his complicity to destroy its beauty and fruitfulness.  And the peoples mourn and grieve at violence in the cities, in the country -- brother against brother, husband against wife, children against parents.  People cannot speak to their leaders with civility; people cannot speak to one another without guns and weapons.  We are destroying the land, our country, our families -- and there is no solution.

"The kingdom of God," the restoration of unity, our return to a Garden, is given to us in Jesus Christ.  He who is not with me is against me; he who does not gather with me scatters!  It's just that simple!

 

Reporting to the King

 In a recent group meeting discussing God's Guidance, I mentioned that I have trouble relating to Christ the King, as kingship is so foreign to my own experience.  But someone in the group pointed out that the function or duty of a good king was to protect the borders of the land from enemies, to ensure the safety and welfare of his people, and to promote goodness throughout the land.  

With that in mind, I did slowly begin to see my own property -- i.e., my concerns and areas of influence-- as a corner of Christ's kingdom, and I realized that each morning or evening, I could (and should) do a status report on the state of affairs under my domain.  Genesis tells us that the Lord God put Adam in the garden to "work it and take care of it."  I think maybe in our daily lives, we are more concerned with working it than taking care of it.  

And herein comes the story of the two trees in the garden:  we can work it and take care of it via our own knowledge and wisdom, our scientific viewpoint --- or we can work and take care of our gardens under the wisdom and knowledge of the One Who created it and Who knows how it operates.  One is the way of Life, and one, the way of gradual but certain death, as our environmental conditions are telling us today.

Most people are somewhat shy of prayer as an operating system for the universe, so we tend to do the best we can with what we have.  But the latest report from the G20 summit on climate control tells us that the richest countries in the world can do little for the planet without the cooperation of Russia and China, two of the major players.  Mary has asked since 1917 for prayer for the conversion of Russia, and her words may mean that our own lives are in the mix.  

Those who do not know how to pray -- and I think all of us are included in that category -- can begin by thinking of prayer as a "status report" on the section of the kingdom under our control, asking for wisdom from the Chief Executive Officer and the Chief Operating Officer for our daily operations.  And He will not mind sending us His own Spirit to guide us:  He teaches sinners the way (Ps. 25).  And while we are awaiting instructions, it might be helpful to search out the Psalms for assurance that He does hear and answer our prayer.

In all thy ways, acknowledge Him, and He will direct your paths (Proverbs 3:5).

Redemption!

 My backyard is a bit of a mess, even though I call it my own personal Eden.  I am not much on maintaining a neat garden, as I enjoy living in a more natural forest-like atmosphere.  And I love looking out the window at the surrounding trees with lush undergrowth, especially when the sun shoots long rays through the branches and leaves.

The downside of encouraging all this rich undergrowth is that it also encourages thorny vines and the proliferation of weeds.  At least once a year, I have to put on my boots and wade through the forest-like vegetation to ferret out unwanted plants that have taken advantage of my benign lack of attention.  Last year, for a number of reasons, I somehow never worked my way around to the backyard, so nature took over, as it is wont to do. 

A few days ago, I realized that things had gotten out of control, so I put on my boots and made my way to the farthest corners of the yard, where the larger plants had been completely covered by a beautiful but deadly vine.  When I first moved to this property, a neighbor brought me a seed for this vine, asking if I wanted it.  I looked at the large, heart-shaped leaves and thought it quite beautiful, so I planted it, little realizing what a bully it would turn out to be.  

In the years since, I have noticed this vine growing on vacant lots in the neighborhood, entirely blanketing 40-foot trees.  Like kudzu, this plant covers and smothers everything in its path, and keeps on going.  One year, it had completely stripped a large pineapple guava bush of all its leaves before I realized what was happening.  And since I did not pay attention last year, the vine had once again covered the larger plants along my fence.  Once planted, it becomes almost impossible to eradicate.

As soon as the weather turned cool this year, I determined to attack this vine, along with the thorny weeds that encircle and choke out the lower vegetation.  As I worked my way along the path, I couldn't help but remember my childhood stories of Anderson's Fairy Tales, where the hero made his way through deep forests choked with thorny vines to rescue the trapped princess in the castle.  Thorns caught at my ankles, while mosquitoes attacked my arms and neck.  All the while, I was on the watch for snakes in the deep underbrush.  But I was determined to rescue my beautiful plants, so long neglected.  

Several hours later, with the pile of heart-shaped vines at my feet, I looked with satisfaction at the beauty of the pineapple guava, the pittosporum, and the nandina that could finally breathe, free from smothering leaves and choking vines.  I smiled to myself and kind of blessed them, saying, "Grow! Be who you were meant to be! Be beautiful!"  And the word "Redemption" went through my mind.

Exactly what God has done, is doing, for us -- putting on His boots, so to speak, making His way through the thorns, snakes, and mosquitos of our lives to finally reach out and destroy our enemies.  Pulling away the vines that choke us, deprive us of our own beauty, saying to us, "Grow, be perfect, be who I created you to be! I am your caretaker, your husbandman, your shepherd.  You are free!"

What kind of Arks are we building?

 Shortly after we bought our first house, a young woman came one evening to sell us insurance.  When she asked my husband what kind of work he did, he replied, "I'm an archivist."  There was a long pause, and then she said, "What kind of arks do you build, Mr. Nolan?"

I've always enjoyed telling this story, but now that I've read a bit of Jordan Peterson, I have come to realize that her question is a very serious one.  Peterson points out that there is a reason these stories from Genesis have endured through all cultures for 4000 years, more or less.  Regarding the story of Noah's Ark, he comments that in a world of chaos, we are all building arks -- places of refuge -- for our families.

Recently, a woman in her sixties who is raising her six nephews and nieces posed this question:  what are we to do in the face of the evil and discord all around us?  Her "children" are being exposed to things in school that she wishes she did not have to deal with.  Indeed, the Democratic platform during the last election proposed that transgender "education" in the public schools now begin in kindergarten, and we now have "Queens" in full drag doing story hour for young children at the local library.  Recently, one of the state legislature sessions opened with a prayer to Satan.

C. S. Lewis warned in one of his stories about raising "men without chests," that is, people who are educated only for the mind but without moral values -- or hearts that learn to love and to value others.  What is a family to do when children are exposed to values and ideals that they are not yet ready to weigh against a moral code?  

The story of Noah has much to tell us, if we take it seriously.  To begin with, Noah's very name sounds like the Hebrew word for "comfort."  His father Lamech named him Noah because "he will comfort us in the labor and painful toil of our hands caused by the ground the Lord has cursed." ( Interestingly, after the Babylonian Exile, the "rebuilder" of Jerusalem was Nehemiah, whose name has the same root, sounding like "comfort" in Hebrew.)

The evil that covered the earth at that time, the evil that grieved the heart of Yahweh, was caused by the "sons of God" who married the daughters of men and thereby produced a master race called the Nephilim.  In the Old Testament, the terms "sons of God" usually refers to the angels, in this case, the fallen angels or demons.  In the face of a race of men whose "thoughts were only evil all the time," Noah "walked with God," a term that characterizes the just men of the Old Testament.  All around him, "the earth was corrupt in God's sight and was full of violence."

God's answer:  Build an ark for you and your sons and your wife and your sons' wives with you. And the creatures of the earth are not forgotten -- two of every kind of bird, of every kind of animal and of every kind of creature that moves along the ground will come to you to be kept alive.  The man or woman of God is a safe haven even for the animals; those who have no use for God are often a threat to the animals around them, as well as to the people close to them.  Recently, the evening news carried a story about a dog that had been deliberately set on fire -- if that is not demonic behavior, I cannot imagine what might be.

Here's the point:  those who choose not to walk with God will become a curse to the earth and all that is in it because their god is themselves.  The only refuge for the just man or woman is an Ark built by God -- Jesus Christ, God with us.  We did not, do not, "walk with God," so He came to walk with us.  And His aim is to gather us together in Himself.  Where God is, there is love.  The world around us insists on dividing, opposing, scattering -- indeed one of the very names of Satan is "diabolos" -- the one who scatters.  Where there is division, God is not in it.  

We cannot keep our children isolated from the world around them, but if we ourselves continue to walk with God and listen to Him, He will "remember" us (Gen. 8:1) in the day of disaster and provide a safe place for us and for our loved ones until the disaster has passed us by (Ps. 57:2).  In fact, it might be a great starting place to read the Psalms looking for this theme:

I am in the midst of lions;
I lie among ravenous beasts--
men who teeth are spears and arrows, 
whose tongues are sharp swords....
They spread a net for my feet--
I was bowed down in distress.
They dug a pit in my path--
but they have fallen into it themselves.

Corrie TenBoom wrote a book called The Hiding Place, about her life during the German occupation of Holland and her subsequent experience in the concentration camp, where a German soldier beat her elderly sister to death.  That book was instrumental in my beginning search for such a place as she found in God.  I wanted to know how to get from where I was at the time to where she had come.   Now I know for sure that God is our refuge and our strength, an ever-present help in distress! (Ps. 46:1).

In the day of disaster, we all need an Ark of one kind or another, not only for ourselves but for those we love.  And the words of Joshua seem appropriate:  Choose this day whom you will serve, whether the gods your forefathers served (in Egypt), or the gods of the Amorites in whose land you are living.  But as for me and my household, we will serve Yahweh (Joshua 24).  

Apology

I have written over 1300 entries over the past 7 or 8 years, and in all that time, I have seen maybe 6 comments total.  The lack of comments has never bothered me, as I always figured only 6 people read this blog and half of them were family members.  

I think I write to know what I think, and it is a joyful occasion when there is a glimmer of recognition on the part of a reader, but whether a comment arrives or not, I seem to keep writing -- maybe for myself, but also because joy overflows at the goodness of God, and I need an outlet to express it.

Yesterday, however, for the first time (duh!), I noticed a tab labeled Comments, and I clicked on it, spilling out hundreds of comments over the years.  I don't know why I have never noticed this tab previously, or why a very few comments slipped through the cracks and actually appeared on the blog itself.  

So today I want to thank those who have commented over the years and apologize for never responding.  I think in addition to adding a comment, there might be another step to actually make that comment appear -- is there a "publish" button on your end?  I'll look into it.  In the meantime, I am going back years and enjoying your comments.  Thank you!

"Goodbye, Best Friend!"

 My husband was archivist for the Archdiocese of New Orleans for about 20 years.  His last boss during that time was Monsignor Crosby W. Kern, Rector of St. Louis Cathedral, a man loved by most and hated by a few.  Msgr. Kern could charm the socks off a rooster, in the words of a good friend, but he could also be brash, angry, and impatient when he needed something done.  

During one of a number of overseas trips my husband took with Msgr. Kern to oversee publication of a new book, the two of them found themselves one afternoon in Strasbourg, France, with a few hours to themselves.  The two of them wandered down to the beautiful river which splits Strasbourg in two, and there found a bench by the side of the river.  According to the story Msgr. Kern told me later, the two of them sat without saying a word for close to an hour, just taking in the scenery and the activity around them.  The reason Msgr. Kern told me about this incident was that, according to him, he had never before been so still in someone's company for so long in such peace and contentment, without saying a word.  It seemed to me that he considered this brief moment the highlight of the trip.

Some years later, when Crosby Kern was dying of cancer, my husband and I visited him briefly while in New Orleans.  We had no idea how soon he was to die, but as we were leaving, his last words to my husband were, "Goodbye, Best Friend!"  Within a few days, he passed away.

The remembrance of this story came to me last night, as I lay awake for awhile in the Presence of Jesus, saying not a word but just resting in the peace and joy He brings.  I felt it totally unnecessary to say anything; it was enough just to be with Him, and I thought about the wisdom of Msgr. Kern's last words--we can be that comfortable saying nothing only to a best friend.  No need to fill the silence, to chat about events, to explain what we are thinking --- just knowing that your friend needs nothing from you but is content to be in your presence and to enjoy with you the world around you.

Often we think that prayer is saying something, making an effort to contact God, to let Him know our concerns, etc., and indeed prayer can be all of that and more.  But there are rare times when His Presence is enough, when we have no need to say anything, but just to smile and enjoy Him.  Granted, these are probably rare moments, but we can reach for them.  A priest in Medjugore once told me, "What we do for God is very interesting, but what God does for us --- well, that's the whole story!" 

 That certainly can be said of prayer:  our prayers are probably very interesting, more or less, but the whole story is not what is said, but what is communicated in the silence and comfort of being in the presence of a good Friend, the Best Friend.

Actually, Psalm 131 says it perfectly:

My heart is not proud, O Lord,/ my eyes are not haughty;

I do not concern myself with great matters/ or with things too wonderful for me.

But I have stilled and quieted my soul;/ like a weaned child with its mother,

like a weaned child is my soul within me. 

This is the peace that passes all understanding! 

 

 

 

 

Like the Burning Bush

 In his marvelous new book, Light From Light, Bishop Robert Barron has an interesting observation:

When the gods of ancient mythology enter the world, they always do so destructively, something in the world order giving way in order for them to appear.  But there is none of this in regard to the true God, whose relationship with creation is beautifully expressed in the biblical image of the burning bush.  The closer God comes to a creature, the more that creature is enhanced and rendered splendid (p. 22-23).

We see this dynamic at work in the ministry of Jesus, when he says to the paralytic, "Your sins are forgiven," and the paralytic stands up, takes up his mat and walks out of the building.   Or again, when Mary of Magdala is released from the prison-hold of seven demons and begins to follow Jesus and the disciples, "ministering to them from [her] own means."  Or, when the seas rage and foam and the winds threaten to overturn the boat, and He stands and commands the wind and waves to subside.

People tend to fear the entrance of God into their lives, but reading the Gospels should dispel that fear entirely.  Adam and Eve feared the Presence of God in the garden after they had sinned, but it was not the nature of God that threatened them.  Rather, in some unfathomed sense of the order of the universe, they "knew" that they had surrendered their divine right to dominion over nature.  We were instructed to 'tend the garden' through Adam, to maintain the beauty and harmony of the universe.  But once we lose, or have lost, the Spirit of harmony, truth, and goodness within our persons, we have not the wisdom and understanding of things needed to maintain the balance and beauty of creation.  Nature -- spiders, snakes, and storms--- tends to overwhelm and threaten our existence, rather than to enhance it.

Sometime after I had experienced a kind of rebirth through a new outpouring of the Holy Spirit in my life, I was walking home one lazy summer afternoon after spending some time on the beach.  Suddenly, I kind of caught my breath when an interior voice said, "Come; I will show you the world created by my Father!"  And in that moment, I began to see with a new sharpness of vision things I had formerly passed by without observation -- leaves on a tree, blades of grass shining in splendor, birds, squirrels, sunlight playing on a leaf.  If it had been a movie, there would have been splendid music, along the order of Cinderella with the mice, or Sleeping Beauty in the forest.

Here's my point:  when God does enter our lives, nothing of our humanity is destroyed or diminished.  Instead, everything in us comes alive:  our minds are sharpened with wisdom and understanding; our emotions are re-ordered to love what God loves and hate what God hates; our wills are strengthened to choose the good instead of what is harmful to us.  Our bodies, too, "know full well that You are my God," in the Living Bible's translation of David's words in Psalm 16.  Nothing in us is destroyed at the entrance of God into our lives, except sin and hatefulness, except death itself.  Instead, like the burning bush, we come alive.  Everything in us is enhanced, on fire, so to speak.  We see further, we know more, we love more, we hear more, our bodies begin to function the way they are designed to.....

Not that all of this happens at once, or even before our death.  Most of the great saints experienced what St. Paul called "a thorn in the flesh," and many of them died from terrible diseases.  But grace, the Presence of the Holy Spirit, overcame the defeat that disorder brings in its wake.  Christ has overcome even sickness and death, so that we are beaten down but not defeated, in the words of St. Paul. 

There is not much I can recall from high school Literature, but one poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins has remained in my memory all these years.  I think it perfectly expresses what I am trying to say here:

God's Grandeur

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell: the soil 
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

And for all this, nature is never spent;

There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;

And though the last lights off the black West went

Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastwards, springs---

Because the Holy Ghost over the bent

World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

Because of the renewing Presence of God in our lives, "The soul of one who loves God always swims in joy, always keeps holiday, and is always in the mood for singing" (St. John of the Cross).

The Great Hallel

 In Jewish liturgy, the Hallel prayer is a collection of joyous psalms typically recited at the beginning of each Jewish month and during the last six days of Passover.  The theme of the Hallel is gratitude to God for all He has done for Israel.  

The "Great Hallel" is Psalm 136, which narrates the history of God's revelation through all the events of the Old Testament.  After each event, the refrain "For his mercy endures forever" is sung or recited:

Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good./ His mercy endures forever.....

 ...who struck down the firstborn of Egypt/ His mercy endures forever....

and brought out Israel from among them/ His mercy endures forever.....

                    ...to him who led his people through the desert/ His mercy endures forever....

                    ...to the One who remembered us in our low estate/ His mercy endures forever.... 

It is no accident, according to Pope Francis, that the people of Israel wanted to include this psalm---the Great Hallel---in its most important feast days.

In the Gospel of Matthew (26:30), it says, "when they had sung a hymn," Jesus and his disciples went out to the Mount of Olives.  The "hymn" was Psalm 136, prescribed for the last days of Passover. It is within this context of God's everlasting mercy that Jesus entered into His passion and death on the cross.  He had just instituted the Eucharist as an everlasting memorial of His sacrifice, and then "they sang a hymn" as He went to His death, which sums up and includes all the saving acts of God toward Israel.

Some years ago, I was in Jerusalem during a Friday Sabbath meal at a downtown hotel.  Our group of 50 Christians was part of a buffet held weekly at the hotel for well over 100 Jews.  Each Jewish family would light a candle upon entering and place it upon a table.  During the meal, the Jews occupied one end of an enormous ballroom, with visitors occupying the other side of the room.  After the meal, the Jews sang their traditional psalms together before dispersing into small groups of instruction and catechesis in different areas of the hotel.  Since there were guards assigned both inside and outside the hotel, my assumption was that it was too dangerous to hold the Sabbath service in the local synagogues, so the congregation assembled weekly at the downtown hotel for their service.

Even as an observer and an outsider, entering into that Sabbath meal was a moving experience for me.  To say they "sang a hymn" does not even approach a description of what I saw and heard of their service.  About 200 or more families sat at long tables with food and wine, all singing with gusto and grace their psalms, while their small children roamed the room, playing quietly with one another and moving easily from family to family.  Anyone who has ever seen a movie of a Jewish wedding will understand the picture -- the joy is palpable everywhere.  They were singing in Hebrew of course, but knowing something of the Great Hallel and other psalms, it did not take much imagination on my part to join in their psalms of praise and thanksgiving.  Their rejoicing even to this day of what God has done in His mercy puts to shame even our most vigorous Catholic hymns.  

That experience has forever changed my image of Jesus and his disciples "singing a hymn" as they left the upper room for the Garden of Gethsemane. He placed His passion and death in the context of the Great Hallel:  Give thanks to the God of gods/ for His mercy endures forever.....

 

A Sacramental World

 Behold the lilies of the field...if that is how God clothes the grass of the field which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, how much more will he clothe you, O you of little faith! (Luke 12 and Matthew 6).

Can you imagine Jesus walking through the fields, lifting up his eyes toward the mountains, seeing the trees and the birds of the air -- and seeing everything in the world proclaiming the loving care of His Father in heaven?    How much more will he clothe you, O you of little faith!

Jesus forever refers to His Father as the God Who Acts in our lives, down to the smallest detail of every day.  He taught us to pray for our "daily" bread -- for the little things upon which we depend for daily life.  Elisabeth Elliot calls this our Declaration of Dependence on God:  "...to Him nothing is trivial or unimportant...He will not have us imagining that material things are in themselves unworthy....He made us human.  He made us to need what he gives. He tells us to ask for it" (God's Guidance: A Slow and Certain Light, p. 24).

Once we begin to see, through the action of the Holy Spirit in our lives, the graciousness of God toward us in the small things, we can begin to relax and smile -- our lives do not depend on our worry and anxious care.  It feels good not to be the "adult" here -- to rather live as a child:  whoever does not enter the kingdom of God as a child will not enter it at all (Mark 10).  Our adult lives are full of concern and responsibility and worry about tomorrow.  But that is not really how Jesus asks us to live, is it?  Seek first the kingdom of God, and these things will be added unto you.

Two nights ago, I promised a young lady that I would find a copy of God Calling for her.  Someone had been telling her about how much this small book had meant to her and how much it had changed her life when she started reading it every day.   I know the book well; it had ministered to me in the same way about 40 years ago, and I had started buying 5 to 7 copies at a time to give away.  Recently, however, I had stopped doing that.  My promise to her meant that I would have to make a special trip to Gulfport this week to find another copy for her, which of course I was happy to do.  

Yesterday, however, I stopped at the house of a friend to drop off an article I thought she might want to read.  "Oh," she said, "I have been cleaning out my nightstand, and I found an extra copy of God Calling you gave me.  I didn't realize that you had given me two copies over the years."  I started laughing.  Anyone else would call this a coincidence.  I don't!  At this exact moment in time, my friend discovers an extra copy of God Calling and saves me an extra trip to Gulfport?  When I gave her that extra copy all those years ago, God knew I would need that book this week.  And He kept it in storage until the exact moment I needed it.  

How can I worry about tomorrow, about food shortages in our country, about angry mobs attacking our nation, about people on facebook attacking one another, about our "cancel culture"? ---- all frightening in themselves and worthy of the attention of serious citizens, but not worthy of daily fear and anxiety on our part?

Our very world is sacramental, if we know how to see.  It tells us of a God of beauty, of love, and of  provision for the smallest detail.  Jesus saw the Father at work in every moment, and He invites us to walk with Him for a while so that He can point out to us what He sees.  How much fun might that be? It might actually feel like being a kid again!

A Startling Parallel

 I am constantly amazed at the ways the Old Testament --- 2000 years of history, poetry, prophecy, and teaching--- is reflected and fulfilled in the appearance of Jesus Christ on earth and in the words of the New Testament.  I recall hearing a bishop once say, "The Bible is deep enough to satisfy scholars and simple enough to be understood by a child."  We never come to the end of our amazement and discovery of new insights, no matter how much we read and understand.

So a few days ago, I read in the Gospel of Luke about the sinful woman who approached Jesus in the house of Simon the Pharisee.  Much to Simon's disgust, she anointed Jesus' feet with her tears and poured ointment on them.  Seeing Simon's discomfort with this embarrassing display, Jesus asks who will love him more -- the one who has a small debt forgiven, or the one whose debt was large.  In another place, Jesus comments that the Pharisees will see tax collectors and prostitutes entering the kingdom of heaven before they will.  

Today, I am reading David's remarkable Psalm 18:  

I love you, Lord, my strength;
O Lord, my rock, my fortress, my savior;
my God, my rock where I take refuge;
my shield, my saving strength, my stronghold.
I cry out, "O praised be the Lord!"
and see, I am saved from my foes.

The waves of death rose about me; The torrents of destruction assailed me; the snares of Sheol surrounded me; the traps of death confronted me.

 In my anguish I called to the Lord; I cried to my God for help. In the heavenly temple my voice was heard; my crying reached God's ears. 

Only someone like David, who had been trapped in the desert, hiding out in caves, pursued by those seeking his death, could have been so exuberant in praise and thanksgiving to the God who saved him, who gave him comfort and security in the midst of terror.   James H. Cone, the author of The Cross and the Lynching Tree, wrote this:  Without concrete signs of divine presence in the lives of the poor, the gospel becomes simply an opiate; rather than liberating the powerless from humiliation and suffering, the gospel becomes a drug that helps them adjust to this world by by looking for pie in the sky. 

When Jesus announced "The kingdom of God has come among you," He was wrapping up the entire Old Testament in His Presence.  He went to Nazareth immediately following his baptism and temptation in the desert and announced in the synagogue, "Today, this scripture is fulfilled in your presence" (Luke 4:21).  And the scripture he read was that of Isaiah the prophet:

The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor.  He has sent me to proclaim freedom for prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to release the oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor.

If the presence of God in our lives is just a concept, a social construct, or a philosophy, we will be respectable in our worship, but not embarrassingly so to those around us.  If, however, the kingdom of God has arrived when the "torrents of death" surrounded us, as Psalm 18 says, when we were trapped in anguish and fear, our "religion" will be more like that of the sinful woman who cared nothing about Simon's respectability, but who could not stop thanking and praising Jesus for what He had done for her. 

 

The Dividing Line

 In his letter to the Colossians, Paul says, "Once you were alienated and hostile in mind because of evil deeds."  

Right here, I think, is the dividing line of the universe: those who are hostile in mind toward the things of God and those who are not.  Who of us does not remember being hostile in mind toward the things of God: His Word, His ways, His Presence in our lives?  Who does not recall not wanting to hear anyone speak of God, not being interested in the words of the Bible, not believing that God is present among us, acting in our very history?

The division is obviously not between the evil and the good, for according to the Parable of the weeds and the wheat, it is difficult to tell the weeds from the wheat while we are still alive.  Indeed, even in our own lives, the weeds commingle with the wheat on a daily basis.  We are all "good" in some ways; we are all "evil" in some ways, still needing to be cleansed and healed of our blindness and deafness to the ways of God.  But here is the difference: on hearing the good news that God is in our midst, some turn in hope of healing while others turn away, not wanting to hear anything about that stuff.

And while we are still hostile to God, it makes us angry to hear anything about Him.  We dismiss the testimony of those who believe in God as emotional, irrational, irritating, and annoying.  The Pharisees, for all their observance of the Law and the length of their tassels, were still "hostile in their minds" towards the ways of God as expressed in the words and actions of Jesus Christ.  He came to reveal the love of the Father to those who couldn't live up to the demands of the law, to those considered "less than" by the respectable, to women and children who were not be considered as reliable.  

I myself, despite being a lifelong churchgoer and believer in God, still did not want any overt manifestation of faith in my presence; I considered it embarrassing to talk about God, as if we had lost contact with reason and decorum.  I would not at the time have considered myself "hostile" to God, but I just wanted Him in His place -- that is, in safe sermons from the pulpit, not in my living room.

The Gift of the Holy Spirit and the amazing work of Scripture in my mind and heart changed all of that. Jesus came to make all things "new," removing the hostility toward God that spells death to our spirits, and to breathe the freshness of a new creation into our hearts.  If we are comfortable with God in our living rooms, we know that we have hope, despite the sin that still resides there too.  His presence will drive out the sin -- Paul tells the Colossians that Christ has reconciled us to God that we might be holy, without blemish and irreproachable before Him, firmly grounded, stable, and not shifting from the Gospel.  

Behold, I stand at the door and knock; if anyone will let me in, I will come and sup with him and he with me (Rev. 3:20).  He didn't say, "If you are good; if you do the right things; if you "try" hard, -- He said only, "if you will open the door."  That is, if you are not "hostile in your mind,"  I will come in.

It's amazing when we think about it: God does not ask much of us at first -- only that we let Him in.  He will do the rest!

....as if God existed.....

 Jordan Peterson's book, 12 Rules for Life: An Antidote to Chaos, is the number one bestseller all over the world. In it, using the archetypal psychology of Jung, Peterson finds universal human truths elucidated in Scripture.

 According to Bishop Robert Barron, despite Peterson's serious engagement with the spiritual life and the history of religion, there is no evidence that the author believes in God in the traditional sense. Barron says, "No Christian should be surprised that the Scriptures can be profitably read through psychological and philosophical lenses, but at the same  time, every Christian has to accept the fact that the God of the Bible is not simply a principle or an abstraction, but rather a living God who acts in history." (Foreword to Jordan Peterson, God, and Christianity, 2021)

When asked if he were a Christian, Peterson's answer was, "I try to live as if God existed."  This is not the flip answer it would appear on the surface.  According to Peterson, once the world population reaches the tipping point wherein the majority of people (of whatever belief) do not "live as if God existed," we will have reached the tipping point of existence.

Having experienced two catastrophic hurricanes in the past 16 years, I see before my very eyes exactly what Peterson means.  I am not ordinarily given to seeing pictures in cloud formations, but on the Tuesday morning after Hurricane Katrina, having spent the night in a school hallway with no food, no water, no flushing toilets, and very little breatheable air, I was lying on the grass outside of the building looking up at the sky.  I had heard from my fellow refugees about the looting and shooting going on in New Orleans, and I was concerned about my husband in the French Quarter.  It so happened that the t-shirt I was wearing pictured Michaelangelo's Creation scene, where the Creator is separating light from darkness.  I could hardly believe my eyes -- and I will not deny that my imagination was probably overwrought at that point -- but there it was in the clouds above me:  all by itself in an otherwise empty sky, there He was, with outstretched hand, commanding Light to overcome the darkness and chaos.

I could not help but reflect on what I was seeing and experiencing at the moment: a time of clear light and clear darkness---there were no grey areas after such a disaster.  All around me in the shelter, people were helping one another, cleaning up their common areas, sharing what little food they had brought with them the day before, and hosing one another off in the extreme heat outside the building.  Meanwhile, in New Orleans, in the absence of first responders who were busy rescuing people from rooftops and attics, looters were breaking storefront windows and carrying off television sets, electronic equipment, and whatever they could carry.  A good many of them were carrying guns in case someone tried to stop them.  Even the police were fearful of the utter chaos that ruled in the city.

So here we are again, following Hurricane Ida, sixteen years later.  People are reaching out all over the city and the United States to feed, shelter, water, and care for the sick of those who are helpless, going to great lengths and extreme sacrifice to help one another.  The city of Ocean Springs and the Gulf Hills subdivision have banded together to feed refugees from neighboring New Orleans and are serving hot meals each evening to those who have found their way to that location.  One man from Marrero drove his truck to Mississippi searching for gasoline to run his neighbor's generator because she is on oxygen and needs electricity to generate the oxygen she needs.  

Meanwhile, a few looters in New Orleans are finding what they can and loading up their cars with stolen goods, not necessities.  One man complained on facebook that his neighbor has a loose shutter that is keeping him awake at night.  [Give me a break.....go fix the shutter and shut up!]

In time of disaster, those who live "as if God existed," despite their beliefs, shine as stars in a dark universe, as St. Peter described it.  In Genesis, the Word of God reaches beneath the chaos and draws out light and order.  That word/Word still speaks in today's chaos, overcoming the darkness and restoring light.  

Once we reach the point where those who fail to live as if God existed overcome and outnumber the others, we are doomed.

Understanding the Wise Virgins

 Last week, Bishop Barron commented on the parable of the wise and foolish virgins, saying that the oil in their lamps was prayer, study, and the Eucharist, habits and fortifications built up over a lifetime, which cannot be shared at the last minute with others.  As this terrible storm (Hurricane Ida) approached the Louisiana coast yesterday, I was reminded of his words.  

Padre Pio once said, "I shudder to think of the harm done to souls by a lack of spiritual reading."  A friend of mine recently locked into Father Mike Schmidt's Bible in a Year broadcast available through Ascension Press.  For 20 minutes a day, she blocks out everything else, puts in her earbuds, and just enjoys Fr. Schmidt's commentary.  Sometimes she deliberately goes a day or more without listening just so she does not have to stop the broadcast after the daily segment.  It reminds me of watching episodes of Downton Abby a few years ago.  The feeling of agh! when the episode ends makes you anticipate the next episode all week.  Her plan is that when the year's cycle comes to an end, she will begin it all over again -- now that she understands the Bible, she really wants to dig into it more deeply.

As someone who has read and studied the Bible for over 44 years now, I am so happy that she had caught the fever.  The more you read, the more you understand; the more you understand, the richer the Word becomes, ministering daily, monthly, yearly to your spirit like water in a dry and thirsty land.

 Recently, when I was grieving for a couple of weeks because we may have to leave this house I love so much and move to a smaller place, the words from Jeremiah 29:11 suddenly came into my spirit:  For I know the plans I have for you, plans to give you a hope and a future, and not to harm you.  I realized then that God has always led me into green pastures and beside still waters, that He has always given me good things, and that I needed to trust Him to continue doing the same in the future.  

It is passages like this that come to me when I most need them that provide oil to my lamp and keep it burning.  There are so many events in my life where the Word of God came as a living word, sharper than a two-edged sword, and brought me peace and courage.  One time, when I was out walking, a strange dog came at me aggressively.  Immediately, I heard, "Stand still, and you will see the deliverance of God."  I immediately calmed down, stood very still, and the dog backed off.  A minor incident, but the greater ones are too long to talk about here.  

When faced with a Category 4 hurricane, I grieve for those who have no reserve peace and backup assurance from Scripture to help them face the catastrophe.  I would give them some of my oil if I could, but when there is no carved-out space, no meditative rumination on the word within us, someone else's lamp oil sounds like hollow platitudes.  It just doesn't keep our lamps burning.

For those who just cannot get into Scripture (it's almost impossible without the Holy Spirit), almost any spiritual reading will break the hard ground of our hearts.  Almost anything!  I think in my earliest days, I started reading Corrie TenBoom books, and I asked myself, "How do I get from where I am today to where she is today?"  I would never venture to say that I have come to her level of trust in God, but reading her stories started me on the way, and I am most grateful for that journey!