Blood Brothers

 Maybe the practice belongs to the past and today's generation no longer knows anything about "blood brothers."  Even though we were girls, we called ourselves "blood brothers," the feminist movement not yet occurring to raise our consciousness about pronouns/nouns and feminine equality.

I remember being enthralled at the idea when my friend first proposed that we become blood brothers. She explained that we were to cut ourselves so that our blood would mingle together as one. From that time on, we would be "blood brothers," or family to one another --- if one of us was attacked, we would consider that both had been attacked.  Whatever happened to one, it would be as if it happened to both.

I'm sure the idea traces back to families and tribes that banded together for the survival of all, and still remains today primarily with gangs and outlaws.  In our individualistic culture, we tend to think that "I can do it all by myself," in the words of a popular song. We tend to think we don't need anyone else -- until we do! 

In the Old Testament, Moses was instructed to take the blood of a sacrificial offering and to spread half of it on the altar and half sprinkled on the people.  The life of the animal was the blood, and now, symbolically, God and His people shared the same life, as represented by the same blood -- He entered into their lives as a family member, as Father, as Older Brother, as Defender of armies, as Shepherd, as Mother (feminine equality again!), as Refuge in times of distress.  And they were to enter His life of love, peace, joy, friendship, communion of Persons.  The formal term for this exchange was "covenant," or "blood brotherhood."

In the New Testament, we have a new covenant, sealed and effected by the sacrifice and the blood of Jesus Christ.  In the Eucharist, in communion with God, we now really -- not symbolically -- share the same blood with God Himself.  We are "blood brothers;" what happens to one happens to the other. 

He has entered into our life: he knows what it feels like to be hot and thirsty, what it feels like to have wool tickle the back of your neck, what it feels like to be hungry and weak, dependent on other people, what it feels like to be so tired that you fall asleep during a storm.  He knows how it feels to be betrayed by someone you trusted, to be the scapegoat of other people's hatred and suspicion; how it feels to be tortured, nailed to a cross unable to breathe -- what it feels like to have your own mother watching you suffer and helpless to offer comfort.

And because we are now blood brothers, He has opened wide the door into His own life.  The healings, the comfort, the provision, the forgiveness He extended during his earthly life continue today through His Body, the Church:  "Whose sins you forgive, they are forgiven."  "I give you my peace...."  "Of course I want to heal you..."  "I give you the water of eternal life...."

All this is available to us in the Eucharist:  Take and eat; this is my Body, given up for you.  Take and drink, this is the blood of the new covenant, given for the forgiveness of sins.

No longer the blood of goats and calves, now the blood of God Himself.  No longer sprinkled on us, but now taken in as our drink.  As our life is taken up by Him, His life is now become our life.  We are blood brothers, no longer symbolically, but really. Jesus told one of the saints: I am come to take up my dwelling in you, and to cleanse, enlighten, kindle, and animate your soul.

If we could only believe it, we could live it!

How, then, will you understand?

 I heard an interesting comment on the radio recently, but unfortunately cannot give credit to the speaker as I don't know who was relating the story.  He mentioned that in Mark's account of the parable of the sower, the disciples asked Jesus about the parable.  Jesus' reply was, "Don't you understand this parable?  How then will you understand any parable?"

Now the speaker was puzzled about this comment.  What is it about this parable that seems to be the key to all of the other parables?  Why is it that we will not understand any parable if we don't understand this one?  

And then it dawned on him:  This parable is about opening our hearts to the word of God.  The good soil receives and nurtures the Word of God, and it grows, producing a crop.  If we do not receive the Word with an open heart, we cannot understand anything in the spiritual realm.  

One of the psalms says, "In your light, we see light."  Jesus gave light to the blind and opened the ears of the deaf, but those were not isolated miracles.  What He did in the physical realm, He also does in the spiritual realm.  If we cannot see God at work in our lives or understand Scripture, we probably need to call out with the blind man, "Lord, I want to see!"  

Jesus is the Sower of the Word; the Spirit waters the soul and prepares us to see, hear, and grow the Word of God in our hearts.

Looking for Grace

 A few weeks ago, I read a book called The Daily Examen by Chad Torgerson.  Based on the journals of St. Ignatius of Loyola, the daily examen is a short prayer of practice at the end of each day.  At first, I thought this practice referred to a daily examination of conscience, a practice I had heard about growing up.  However, this is not really the same thing at all, although it may include an examination of conscience.

The daily examen rather is a practice of reflection on where grace has appeared during the day, and giving thanks for those moments.  The brief evening prayer may also include looking back over one's sins (or general grumpiness, for that matter) and asking for the grace to overcome these weaknesses.  The key concept is that we are looking for God's presence in our lives, however.

The practice was so simple that I started doing it immediately.  Within a week, I was noticing the graced moments of the day not in the evening, but as they occurred, and giving thanks for them at the moment they occurred.  One day, as my sister and I had spent the day painting the house I am trying to sell, I loaded my purse, lunch bag, and pieces of used cardboard in the car to head home, exhausted.  As I crossed the railroad tracks about half a block away from the house, I suddenly realized that I had forgotten the antibiotic I was taking.  I knew I could not skip 2 or 3 doses until the next day, so had I arrived home without the medicine, I would have had to make the return trip to retrieve it.

I was so grateful to my guardian angel or whoever whispered in my mind that I forgot how tired I was just being thankful.  Now I find moments of joy every day, as I say to myself, "That was a graced moment!"  I guess you might say this simple practice is like walking in the presence of God all day!

The Ultimate Question

Sooner or later, I think, everyone will have to answer the question Jesus asked of Peter: Who do you say that I am?

Here our religion does not matter so much as the question.  Every man, woman, and child will have to face Jesus himself and answer the question:  Who do you say that I am?

In Mere Christianity, C. S. Lewis beautifully summed up our choices in his own question:  Lord, Liar, or Lunatic?  According to Lewis, the one option we do not have is to say that Jesus was/is a great moral teacher, but not who He claimed to be -- the Son of God.  According to Lewis, anyone who said the things Jesus said had to be speaking the truth -- or else He was lying, or He was a lunatic.  

The Jews who heard Him teach were horrified by His blasphemy, as they saw it:  [We are stoning you for blasphemy] because you, a mere man, claim to be God (John 10).

For this reason, the Jews tried all the harder to kill him; not only was he breaking the Sabbath, but he was even calling God his own Father, making himself equal with God (John 5).

I think anyone who reads the Gospel of John -- or any one of the Gospels, for that matter --- with this question in mind will begin to see Jesus as the Son of God, made flesh for our sake.

And then the next question will follow:  Why do you call me "Lord" and not do the things that I say?

Indeed, a question all of us will have to answer someday!

The Human Condition

 Psalm 25, like many other psalms, contains a plaintive cry:  My eyes are always on the Lord, who rescues my feet from the snare.  Turn to me and have mercy on me, for I am alone and poor.  Relieve the anguish of my heart, and set me free from my distress.  See my lowliness and suffering, and take away all my sins.

God told Moses: I have indeed seen the misery of my people in Egypt.  I have heard them crying out because of their slave drivers, and I am concerned about their suffering.  So I have come down to rescue them from the hand of the Egyptians and to bring them up out of that land into a good and spacious land, a land flowing with milk and honey (Exodus 3).

If we look at the ministry of Jesus in light of Psalm 25, we can see in living color, so to speak, God's concern for those who are "alone and poor," those who have anguish of heart and distress.  He is the new and final Moses, sent by God to bring us out of slavery and into a good and spacious land.  His ministry of deliverance continues even today through the church, as any reader of the Acts of the Apostles can see.  Today, there is a magazine, whose name escapes me, devoted to stories of God's deliverance of those who have -- like all of us -- experienced times of distress, of being "alone and poor."

Thomas Merton says, "Christianity is a religion for men who are aware that there is a deep wound, a fissure of sin that strikes down to the very heart of man's being.  They have tasted the sickness that is present in the inmost heart of man estranged from God by guilt, suspicion, and covert hatred.

Merton maintains that it is dread alone that delivers us from easy answers about prayer and Christianity.  It is only when we face being alone and poor that we truly turn to God and open ourselves to His deliverance.  Most of us, I think, prefer to manage life on our own until it becomes beyond our capability -- and then we cry out to God for help!  

C.S. Lewis describes the beginning of his conversion as a kind of cracking and crumbling of the exoskeleton that surrounded him and protected his individuality.  He speaks of being a reluctant convert, as I think most of us might be.  But dread, in the words of Thomas Merton, is the human condition that finally breaks out outer shell and often leads us to cry out to God.  

And God's answer is always, "I have seen the misery of my people in Egypt and have seen their suffering!"  He has sent Moses; He has sent Jesus Christ.  He has sent the Holy Spirit.  

Those who have experienced God's help in distress are those who cry out with the psalmist:  God is our refuge and our strength, an ever-present help in distress! (Ps. 46).

New Dimensions in Prayer

 In my last entry, I wrote about listening to the voice within as a way of praying -- allowing the Spirit to lead us into the deepest dimensions of our hearts and minds.  

A few weeks ago, as I entered into my hour of adoration before the Blessed Sacrament, I spontaneously began a dual list in my notebook -- something I had never done previously.  On one side of the page, I wrote "Gratitude." On the other side, "Petitions."  Without really thinking too much, I quickly jotted down all the events and people that came to mind in each category.  After a few minutes, I stopped writing and began to meditate/pray/think about each item on the list.  Surprisingly, that hour of prayer sped by quickly as I pondered my dual lists.

Since that day, I have begun each day with some sort of brief list --- reminders (the traditional "to do" list), quotations, ideas, etc.  I've never been a fan of "to do" lists because I never seem to be able to complete the tasks, but allowing my list to include other things on my mind is more helpful to me.

As often happens in the spiritual life, we first have an experience/ an encounter, and later we find the words to explain or describe what we have experienced.  A few days ago in my reading, I came across a mention of Marilyn McIntyre's book called Make a List: How a Simple Practice Can Change our Lives.  Someone once said, "When the student is ready, the teacher appears."  This saying certainly seemed to apply in my case!

Ms. McIntyre's introduction spoke directly to my experience:

As we add lines to a list, we become aware of the voice in us that speaks when we listen.  This is an experience I often have in prayer or meditation: a sentence or a phrase comes from somewhere other than my busy ego-mind.  I experience it as a gift received.....Something in the momentum of list-making opens corners of the mind that can be hard to reach and gives the inner voice a say.

Paying attention is the first step toward love.  We can love only what we notice, name, return to, and reflect on. 

I have read only a few pages of Make a List, but I can already see that what I might have dismissed as a "one-off" experience of making a list may become a great tool in listening to and discerning the Voice of the Holy Spirit in guiding my life.  I am eternally grateful to the Spirit of God who has always listened to me better than I have learned to listen to Him!