The Servant of Humanity (GNS 30)

Peace be with you!

Join Fr. Freeh and parishioners Vicki Phillips and Pat Henry in a discussion of the Second Vatican Council’s true purpose, and its meaning to us.

I wonder if you, too, were left scratching your head at just how thoroughly Vatican II’s true purpose has been highjacked.

As a child of Vatican II, I have no clear memory of the Mass in Latin. But I do remember the turmoil in the Church–in our parish–following the changes Vatican II brought. There was anger everywhere, because there were too many changes–or too few, depending on who was talking–and sometimes it seemed the lunatics were running the asylum. Remember clown Masses? Thank God, I never had to endure one of those. But the episode of middle-aged ladies dancing down the aisles in tutus for “liturgical dance” at a single Mass resulted in the departure of at leaset one family from the parish. Thank God, we missed that particular Mass.

Those years left their mark. If you had asked me why Pope John XXIII had declared Vatican II, I would have gone straight for the “open the windows of the Church and let some fresh air in” quote and never even thought of the declaration of our mission “to become the servant of humanity.”

The pope had never heard of a sound bite, and had no inkling he would be cited in support of an agenda to overhaul the Church to suit modern tastes and morals.

And all the while we were distracted with arguments about birth control and whether priests and nuns can marry, or women be ordained…we still failed to focus on the true purpose of Vatican II: to serve a hurting world.

I wonder what would have happened if John XXIII had said, “open the windows and let the fresh air out“?

Because the truth is, there’s precious little spiritual air in the modern world. There wasn’t so much even fifty years ago. Today, our secular culture denies even the existence of God–any Higher Power–and soul. And who needs salvation? Consciousness is an accident of eletrical-chemical processes arising from a complex arrangement of matter. This world is all there is, and there’s no meaning, no purpose to it.

Atheism can’t take away our trials and sorrows, but it certainly robs us of our hope and joy. The Church has the best antidote to “all the anxieties by which modern man is afflicted.” Why in Heaven’s name would we want to make ourselves over into the image of modern culture?

In an earlier post, I quoted Matthew Kelly of DynamicCatholic.org to point out that The Roman Catholic Church today feeds, clothes, educates, heals, and aids in disaster, more people around the globe than any other single organization. And that’s with the active support of only 7% of the Church.

This is the Church that understands and pursues the true mission of Vatican II. Pope Francis had a better sound bite: “The Church is a field hospital where wounds are treated.”

Sometimes it seems as if most Catholics see Catholicism as the safety net for their own soul. Their faith is perilously close to self-absorbed navel-gazing, and a narcissistic  spirituality that ends in self, ends in self-defeat. You have to lose your life to save it. Vatican II wasn’t about changing the doctrines of the Church. It was about reminding us who we are, and the mission we have.

The whole point of Christian spirituality is a love of God so powerful, we reach out to others in need. A spirituality that acts, as individuals, in concert with our parish, our whole Church, the Body of Christ, acting as the “servant of humanity.”

Imagine if every baptized Catholic reached out to just one other person. Fed one hungry child. Visited one lonely elder. Listened to one angry teenager. The list is endless, because the needs are. But what if…?

We would have become true servants of humanity, fulfilled the true dream of Vatican II…and renewed ourselves, the Church, and the world. Amen.

+ Ann

Readings for the Solemnity of the Ascension.

Readings for the Seventh Sunday of Easter, May 17, 2015.

 

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20-20 Hindsight (GNS 29)

Peace be with you!

Join Fr. Freeh and parishioners Vicki Phillips and Pat Henry as they discuss the Apostles’ coming to terms with the Easter message.

After three years of following Jesus…the Apostles still didn’t get the meaning of His Passion and Death. They saw it as the end of His promise, not the beginning of its fulfillment.

This is kind of scary. The people who knew Jesus best still kept trying to fit Him inside their own agenda: throw off the Roman Empire, establish Israel in its stead.

The comforting part: Jesus still called them friends, still loved them, still accepted them when they returned in sorrow and repentance. (Both Judas and St. Peter betrayed Jesus. The difference between them is what they did about it afterwards.) He kept leading them toward His Father’s desire for them: an intimate relationship of love with God Himself. And finally, He died for them.

And–eventually–they understood the meaning of The Christ’s Passion, Death, and Resurrection: the unconditional Love of God. And when they got it…boy howdy.

In the readings for next Sunday, Simon the rough fisherman–who told Jesus to depart from him, a sinful man, in their first meeting–has become Peter. The former fisherman has to reassure the people he meets that he, too, is merely a human being. Just stop and think about that for a moment.

The Apostles had to give up their narrow, secular agendas to be transformed. So do we. We too must stop trying to jam Jesus into our agendas, justifying our desires, the choices we make, the moral relativism of our modern world. We must learn–as the Apostles did–to understand the gift of salvation as a transcendant and eternal act of Unconditional Love, and conform ourselves to His plan, not ours. In other words, we must follow Jesus’ example.

Just as the Son’s love for the Father led to His obedience even to death on the Cross, the more we love God, the more we are led to obey Him. In next Sunday’s reading, Jesus tells us:

“As the Father loves me, so I also love you.
Remain in my love.
If you keep my commandments, you will remain in my love,
just as I have kept my Father’s commandments
and remain in his love.”

Let’s be clear. Our obedience to God isn’t rooted in manipulation and control: “If I obey God, then He will love me.” It’s not possible to buy something you already have…and God loves us, regardless of how we behave. 

God isn’t concerned about our obedience because of what it does for Him. His concern is what obedience does for us. We remain in God’s love. Obedience is part the Easter because Jesus tells us:

“I have told you this so that my joy may be in you
and your joy might be complete.”

Spiritual hindsight can see sharply across the millenia. We can–and should–rediscover the power of the love of God by meditating on the lives of the Apostles, learning from both their mistakes and triumphs.

Then we need to need to turn that spiritual lens on our own lives. We obey whatever we love most. If we’re disobedient to God, we need to look for the lesser god we’re obeying because we love it more–and the tragic consequences of worshipping a false god.

We can’t do this alone. This is why Jesus gave us the sacrament of Confession and the authentic teachings of the magisterium of the Church, to help us examine our lives in the light of His commands.

We’re not supposed to be go-along, get-along. We’re supposed to startle people with our love, our joy, our faithfulness. When we understand this the way the Apostles did…we too will light up the world.

Simply put: Disobedience walks with self-will and anger. Joy in the Love of God, and obedience to Him walk hand-in-hand. And the world follows after.

+ Ann

Readings for Sunday May 10, 2015

 

Posted in Catholic Church, Confession, Cultural transformation, Easter, Spirituality, transformation, Uncategorized, unconditional love | Leave a comment

Joy (GNS 28)

Peace be with you!

Join Fr. Freeh and parishioners Vicki Phillips and Pat Henry in a discussion of joy.

http://youtu.be/jZcC6Xq2fGg

Not to be sacriligious but, for me, “Joy” is as big a mystery as the Holy Trinity.

As the irrefutable proof of God’s existence, it makes sense that all people of faith have access to joy. (It also explains why I’ve never met a joyful atheist.)

Joy also seems to be a proof of the ability of the human person to participate in the life of God. It seems we are joyful to the extent that we allow the immortal Godhead to penetrate our lives. And Christian joy is of a whole different order, an intimate relationship with the God Who suffered, died, and rose from the dead for our salvation: “We have seen the Lord!”

The ultimate example of this is, of course, the Virgin Mary’s joy when the Word of God was incarnated in her. But we also speak of her sorrows, chief among them the Passion and Death of her Son. The greatest of joy, the greatest of sorrow, coexisting in the same heart.

Joy isn’t thick on the ground in our world. We’re good at shutting God out of every nook and cranny of our lives, thereby shutting out the Source of joy. But even today, joy shows up in the most unlikely places–and more often than not, tied to great sorrow:

A friend with terminal cancer who radiates joy, sharing with us a piece of the Heaven she’s going to. A couple of weeks ago, I saw a youtube video of a little girl in a Middle East refugee camp, and her eyes were brimming with joy as she spoke of forgiving the ISIS terrorists who forced her from her home; as she sang a hymn to Jesus.

Unlike happiness, joy can’t be pursued. Happiness flees from sadness and trials. Joy accepts, rises above…even rejoices in the trials of life. Because suffering is also a participation in the Divine Life. Whenever I see a truly joyful person, I wonder what suffering coexists in their heart.

The mystery seems to be all about seeing the Lord in even the dark places…especially the dark places. Joyful eyes see the Lord wherever they turn.

This Sunday’s readings: April 26, 2015

Next Sunday’s reading: May 3, 2015

 

Posted in Blessed Mother, Cultural transformation, Easter, Joy, Spirituality, Suffering, Uncategorized | Tagged | Leave a comment

The Holy Spirit and Human Worth (GNS 27)

Peace be with you!

Fr. Freeh, with the help of parishioners Vicki Phillips and Pat Henry, advances the discussion of the Holy Spirit in context of the Triune God, the Holy Spirit.

http://youtu.be/yz8xa5w2Xl8

So now it’s my turn to say a few words. And I have to ask: What can I say about the Holy Trinity in 1000 words or less, that hasn’t already said before?

A daunting task. Without conducting an exhaustive (or exhausted?) study of the millenia of spiritual giants whose paths I fear to tread, I’m pretty sure the answer is: Not one blessed thing.

So, I’m going to talk about me. And you.

Because the thing that struck my ear in Fr. Freeh’s reflection was the concept that Love happens between beings of equal stature.

Now put that into context of “God loves us.” He loves me. He loves you. And He desires us to love Him. Ergo…He considers us to be worthy of His love. This alone confers upon you and me an infinite value, because we are loved by an infinite God. There’s mystery in that. And more mystery in finding us worth His Passion, Death, and Resurrection.

The same dynamic of the Triune God–God the Father’s Perfect Knowledge of Himself is the Son; the Perfect Love between the Father and Son is the Holy Spirit–drives the purpose of the human soul. (With apologies for such a simple explanation to the theologians who understand the intricacies of the filioque debate that split the Church into East and West.)

But East or West, the essential point remains the same: Small as we are, you and I  are made to know God and to love Him.

Sadly, we’re confused. We get caught up in ambition for passing things, and measure our worth in terms of keeping up with the Jones’ net assets. We ignore the debt on the spiritual side of the balance sheet, and never see how the Jones’ yardstick divides us. Worse, we are blind to the immeasurable cost of the paradise lost.

While we live shadowed lives of minimal effort toward small ends, we are called to do no less than participate in the infinite light and life of God.

The truth is, whatever our lives are right now (and here I deleted the ever-growing list of all the labels and statuses that divide us) our lives can be greater, filled with truth and love… if only we desire to do what God wills, and do whatever we do for His purpose, with love. 

How can we even begin to understand this? By beginning to live it, wherever we are, whatever our condition.

Those who say, “I know him,” but do not keep his commandments
are liars, and the truth is not in them.
But whoever keeps his word,
the love of God is truly perfected in him. 

My mistake was in thinking I had to say something new about the Holy Spirit. That’s not just a daunting task; it’s beyond possible. We don’t need to invent new things to say about the timeless truth of the immortal Godhead.

But each of us is a unique creation. When we obey God’s commands in our individual lives, we live something new. We become the unique expression of God’s truth and love wherever we go, whatever we do.

This is why He breathed His life into us–you, and me. And the Holy Spirit draws us along the paths of the spiritual giants. Paradoxically, the more we live out our unique vocation, the closer we are united with those who have gone before, those who journey with us now.

Because our true purpose–the purpose God had in mind when he created you and me–breaks all boundaries, all divisions of mind and heart, of social status, even of time and space itself.

When we are perfected in the love of God, He lays eternity in union with Him at our feet of human clay.

This Sunday’s readings.

Posted in Catholic Church, Conversion, Holy Spirit, Prayer, Sacraments, Spirituality, Trinity, Uncategorized, Vatican II | Leave a comment

Getting the Picture (GNS 26)

Peace be with you!

And Happy (belated) Easter! I confess to getting wrapped up in travel (which involved a lot of waiting at the airport) and singing with the choir for Good Friday and Easter Vigil and visiting family…. I hope your Easter was a blessed culmination of your Lenten journey.

Let’s spend ten minutes with Fr. Freeh and parishioners Vicki Phillips and Pat Henry in their discussion of the Holy Spirit in constituting the Church and our individual transformation.

So now…I’m thinking puzzles.

My family does at least one puzzle every Christmas, and fairly often during the reunions. We huddle around the table, passing around the box lid, older generations introducing the young’uns into the mysterious delight of fitting pieces together to create a complete picture. We blame our late Great Aunt Gertie (who is also held responsible for the family’s Scrabble addiction).

There are some who believe that humanity’s changing understanding of God from pagan times through Old Testament to New Testament somehow proves that we have simply made Him up. If God were real, wouldn’t He just come and tell us, and we wouldn’t need to go through all that?

I don’t get that at all. In real life, on the merely human level, we accept that people are puzzles.

We recognize others can help us to understand what we ourselves don’t see about someone else. And we know that we can spend a lifetime getting to know another person and still discover unsuspected depths. When it comes to knowing someone…we’ll never find the last piece to complete the picture.

Scaling this process up from human to Divine, it’s absurd to think that human understanding of God wouldn’t change over time. If it takes more than one lifetime to understand a single person…how many lifetimes does it take to understand the ominpotent God?

Clearly, one human mind simply isn’t capable of comprehending God. Even the best of us–a Francis of Assisi or Therese of Lisieux–can bring only a piece of the puzzle.

And while some pieces are very pretty by themselves, they are easily scattered, making no lasting contribution to the greater puzzle–unless they have a frame to contain them, and the picture on the box lid to give them context and meaning.

When it comes to human understanding of God…the Holy Spirit operates on every level: piece, frame, and box lid.

He calls each individual to know Him. He operates within the one, holy, catholic, and apostolic Church to provide the framework to gather together the wisdom of every age and culture, even from pagan times, but especially through Scriptures both Old and New, and Sacred Tradition. Catholics call this collective understanding of God the “Deposit of Faith.” And the Holy Spirit orders the whole according to the foundational truth:

“God is Love.”

Catholic parents everywhere–like Vicki and Pat–rely on their extended family, on the Church, to teach their children about God. And this truth reveals on a small scale the dynamic of revelation history across the ages:

God yearns for every single human heart. But He knows He far exceeds the capacity of any one soul to truly know Him. And so He establishes a chosen people, a Church, to sustain every single heart on its journey to Him. As a member of community of faithful, gathering, preserving, and sharing our collective wisdom under the guidance of the Holy Spirit…we know Him better, and therefore love Him more.

God is Love. A truth revealed to little ones, hidden from the wise. Which might be why we find Him so puzzling. But throughout the ages, from generation to generation, we share the mysterious delight of discovering Him.

Readings for Divine Mercy Sunday.

Posted in Catholic Church, Divine Mercy, Easter, holiness, Holy Spirit, Spirituality, Trinity, Vatican II | 1 Comment

Ghost in the Machine (GNS 25)

Peace be with you!

What makes it possible for us to know God? Parishioners Vicki Phillips and Pat Henry join Fr. Freeh in a discussion of the Holy Spirit, the human spirit, and unconditional love.

Sometimes so much is packed into these ten minutes it takes me awhile to figure out what I’m going to say, knowing I won’t do justice to the entire discussion.

At the end of this reflection, a classic song by The Police popped into my head: “We Are Spirits in the Material World” from the album “Ghost in the Machine.” And since Fr. Freeh brought up science fiction–a genre I’m pretty well acquainted with–I thought of all the robots across the spectrum from the evil Terminator to the good Terminator to the benign android Data from “Star Trek: the New Generation” and his evil twin, Lore. At the heart of these creative efforts is an exploration of what makes us human.

And I thought…The power of stories to move us is, I believe, a proof of the existence of meaning and of spirit. Stories go boldly where logic and science fear to tread.

While secular humanists have the luxury of denying both meaning and spirit, writers ignore them at their peril.

Without the elements of spirit, conscience, free will, and grace an author’s work lacks depth and fails to speak to the soul the humanists deny. Instead, they are forced to pander to human appetites: sex, violence, greed, power. Which might explain “Fifty Shades of Gray” and the general tendency to replace story with special effects. But it also explains why we still reach back through the centuries for Shakespeare revivals. No one will ever confuse “Fifty Shades” with great art. Only a pyschopath could fail to be moved by “Hamlet.”

Great art, great stories, great songs celebrate spirit, conscience, free will, and grace because they are the elements that create the opportunity for unconditional love. And unconditional love is the most compelling story ever told.

GK Chesterton said, “A good novel tells us the truth about its hero; but a bad novel tells us the truth about its author.”

Today is Passion Sunday, the ultimate story of unconditional love. And in this one, specific instance, I have found myself in rare disagreement with GK. The story of Passion Sunday is a good story. It tells the truth about its Hero. But it also tells the story of its Divine Author. Only in the Passion narrative do we find the final perfection of the divine humility of God, begun in the Incarnation:

Christ Jesus, though he was in the form of God,
did not regard equality with God
something to be grasped.
Rather, he emptied himself,
taking the form of a slave,
coming in human likeness;
and found human in appearance,
he humbled himself,
becoming obedient to the point of death,
even death on a cross. — Phil 2:6-8

(Maybe I’m finally coming to terms with the outrageous statement that Christ’s Incarnation was necessary to His perfection as Son of the Father.)

The Roman soldier who witnessed the Passion in all its gore came away convinced that Jesus was truly the Son of God. He’d participated in many crucifixions before, and seen the victims beg for mercy or howl curses and invective from the cross. Jesus of Nazareth was different. In His extremis, He spoke of love, of forgiveness…even for those who still mocked Him, who had nailed Him to the Cross. I wonder if the Roman soldier, like Peter, wept when he realized what he’d done.

This Passion narrative is the true story that underlies all good stories. And it still has the power to touch the most hardened of hearts. St. Paul knew this when he declared he “preached Christ, and Him crucified.”

Go ahead. Read ahead and find out how the story turns out next week. And let it touch your heart, too.

Readings for Easter Sunday.

Posted in Cultural transformation, Easter, G.K. Chesterton, Holy Spirit, Lent, Spirituality, Trinity | Leave a comment

A Call to Holiness (GNS 24)

Peace be with you!

I’m happy to say the latest set of sessions has caught up with me at last. Here, Fr. Freeh joins with parishioners Pat Henry and Vicki Phillips to discuss the role of the Holy Spirit in our spirituality.

The bumpersticker says, “If you want peace, work for justice.”

Today’s Gospel reading says, “If you want justice, begin with holiness.”

Jesus takes the arrival of a couple of Greeks looking to meet him as the sign of His Father’s will to redeem the whole world, not just the lost children of Israel. And while He is troubled over what is to come, He surrenders to the call of the Holy Spirit to take up His mission to draw everyone to Himself for the glory of the Father’s name.

In taking on the mission to draw all to Himself, Jesus teaches us that the mission of the Church doesn’t end with the baptized. The Holy Spirit also calls us to draw everyone to the Father.

By putting His redemptive act in subordination to the Father’s glory, he teaches us that holiness comes first, action second…even for Him.

Too often, we get caught up in “social justice,” without taking a look at the state of our own souls. And while the Church is one, holy, catholic, and apostolic…there is no denying that her day-to-day holiness is affected by that of her members. As Fr. Freeh said, “You don’t belong to the Church, you are the Church.”

The Mystical Body of Christ is one of those concepts that we tend to gloss over. I’ve never heard anybody really argue it, but neither do we give it a lot of headspace. Maybe because it scares us a little. The spirit of “individualism” makes it hard for us to think about, much less accept, that there is an intimate connection between us and all those who share a common baptism in the Name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

This isn’t some remote, aloof  and generalized association like we were all members of the same club, but a personal bond of deep and intimate love with more than a billion people on the planet. Who wouldn’t be a little gob-smacked by the idea? But how could it be otherwise? Love Himself is the source of the relationship.

I think the key is not to think about those billions of baptized people, but to contemplate Jesus. As the Holy Spirit draws us closer to Him, and to the Father, he draws us closer to each other in faith and holiness…and this is what gives us the power to act, to build the Kingdom of God here on earth as it is in Heaven. If we want peace, if we want justice…we must first begin as Jesus did: with holiness. Only when we are transformed according to the Father’s will, are we able to transform the world we live in.

If all the Catholics–if all the baptized–on the planet took this seriously, we probably wouldn’t need the bumpersticker.

I hope your Lenten journey is a fruitful one.

+ Ann

Readings for the Fifth Sunday of Lent.

Posted in Catholic Church, Cultural transformation, holiness, Holy Spirit, Lent, Spirituality, Trinity, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Use It or Lose It

Peace be with you!

If Fr. Freeh had kept the DVD disks in his possession, he could’ve handed them to me this weekend. But the disks are in Illinois; we’re in Pennsylvania. And so I’m once again blogging solo.

Hard to believe this is the Fourth Sunday of Lent. I hope your Lenten journey is transforming your heart, bringing you closer to God.

The readings for this Sunday struck me with one phrase: “Use it or lose it.”

We either live in the light, building our spiritual lives through the worship of God in spirit and truth–or we fall into the dark, worshipping any god whose promises of pleasure and power lead us into sin. It’s odd to think of the spiritual life in such mundane terms, but it’s pretty clear that this dynamic works on both an individual and cultural level.

When the Jews turned away from God and His moral law, they fell into a deep, dark pit of idolatry and immorality. Having lost their sense of themselves as God’s chosen, they became the prey of their enemies. Exiled, they were stripped of their very identity–which is the natural consequence of losing their relationship with God.

Oddly, it was a Gentile–Cyrus, the King of Persia–who responded to God’s inspiration,  sending the Jews to their homeland, giving them back their identity as God’s chosen people, and calling them back to their purpose: to rebuild God’s Temple and consecrate themselves to the worship of God.

The story of the Jews’ Babylonian Exile is our own story.

As individuals, and as Church, Christians face the same temptations. The secular world offers us the easy path of glitz and glamor, of pleasure and power…never mentioning how we will become trapped in idolatry of greed, and lust, and violence. Worshipping the modern gods of hedonism, individualism, and minimalism, we trade in Truth for the tyranny of relativism, where there is no right and wrong…only opinions.

Every day, we see the consequences of forgetting God on our TVs, in our families, in our hearts. Lost to God, we have exiled ourselves from our own identity. Stripped of our true purpose  to know, love, and serve God, we become mere shadows of ourselves, little more than beasts. Access to pornography and “reproductive services” becomes more important than an outcry against sexual slavery.

And yet, there is hope. I don’t think of the Babylonian Exile as God’s punishment of the Jews. I think of it more as a removal of His mercy. And while there is always sin, and the consequences of sin, there is also God’s mercy…which is infinitely greater than our sins.

In fact, we live in a sea of God’s Divine Mercy, always around us, always available to us, even when we are “dead in our transgressions.” And here’s even better news: The consequences of repentance and calling upon God’s mercy are just as real as the consequences of sin.

This is the mercy that called the Jews back to the holy city; the mercy that calls us back to our best selves, and our culture back to the Judeo-Christian principles upon which we were founded. This is the mercy that gives peace despite strife; joy despite trial; healing despite injury. And the greater, glorious promise of  salvation and eternal life.

Our choice is clear: to make God the priority in our spiritual life, or to lose it altogether.

The key is to recognize our sinfulness. To see Christ raised up in the midst of this world, and to reject the darkness and step into the light of God’s mercy. And–living in the light–to be like Cyrus, the unlikely instrument of grace calling others back to their identity and purpose as the chosen children of God.

+ Ann

Readings for Fourth Sunday of Lent.

Readings for Fifth Sunday of Lent.

Posted in Catholic Church, Conversion, Cultural transformation, Divine Mercy, Hope, Ignatian Spirituality, Joy, Lent, Spirituality | 1 Comment

Trust

Peace be with you!

The next set of Fr. Freeh’s reflections has yet to catch up with me, as I continue to be a moving target.

My life has changed a lot recently. New job, new residence, new parish, new roads…. All of this dropped out of the sky, disrupting my nice quiet life. I keep thinking how much trust has played a part in all this. Trusting that this is God’s will. Trusting that He’ll be there to support me in these new challenges. Trusting that He will see my husband and me through these changes, bringing us ever closer together.

During the move, I brought with me a box of quotations from St. Faustina that one of my sisters had given me years ago. Each card has a short quote from St. Faustina’s diary, in which she recorded her conversations with Jesus. Whenever I read through the stack, I’m struck by how often the word “trust” comes up. “Love” and “mercy” come as no surprise…but Jesus talks about trust just as often. The box has a cut-away front, so you can read the quote on the first card. This is the one that lived in the front for months:

The graces of My mercy are drawn by means of one vessel only, and that is — trust. (Diary, 1578)

Maybe because trust has been top-of-mind for me lately, I read the Scriptures for tomorrow with new eyes…and noticed that even Jesus had trouble with trust. Trust is hard. Especially when we believe, in our heart of hearts, that we just want God to give us what we want, when we want it. Trust is achingly painful, when we’re walking through that dark valley, and there’s no end in sight.

But Jesus’ trouble was trusting Himself to the people who followed Him because of His signs and wonders; the people who wanted to make Him a king–not of their hearts for salvation, but of the world to topple the Roman Empire.

But Jesus did not trust Himself to them, because He knew them all, and did not need anyone to testify about human nature. He himself understood it well. (Jn 2:25)

While Jesus knew better than to trust in human nature because He knew it all too well, our problem is exactly the opposite. We have trouble trusting in God’s plan for us precisely because we don’t know Him. And so we scramble around, trying to make everything turn out the way we think it should. Jesus had something to say to St. Faustina about this, too:

Let no one trust too much in his own self. (Diary, 1495)

It’s so easy to get caught up in the crazy-busy of life. We all have challenges, problems, troubles…we think we need to solve them. But they’re usually bigger than we are. We are fools if we think we can solve our problems without the grace of God. But trust is what opens the channel of grace.

Sometimes, getting to know God through prayer and the sacraments, especially the Eucharist, leads to trusting Him.

And sometimes, just trusting Him can lead us to know Him. Trust is the key.

As we walk toward Easter on our Lenten journey, let’s practice placing ourselves at the foot of Christ’s Cross, under the mantle of our Blessed Mother…trusting in the graces that will flow from the Heart of Jesus, transforming our lives.

Readings for the third Sunday of Lent.

Posted in Divine Mercy, Easter, Eucharist, Lent, Prayer, Sacraments, Spirituality, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Waiting

Peace be with you!

I’ve been a moving target lately, so I’m still waiting for the videos to arrive.

On the upside, I’m finding this pause in the videos has given me more time to think about the last two reflections. Especially the statement, “We are holy only to the extent that we daily wait for the Holy Spirit.”

I’m not quite sure how we’re supposed to do that. I know that few people wait for anything without feeling some kind of resentment, or even anger. Like that person behind you in traffic, leaning on the horn a tenth of a second after the light turns green.

We live in a culture of instant results, instant gratification, instant coffee. In this society, Waiting Is Bad. And yet at every Mass, we are told to “wait in joyful hope” for the coming of the Lord.

So what does waiting do, and how can it be joyful?

I think the first benefit of waiting is we learn to surrender to the will of God. Our impatience, resentment and anger stem from discovering we are not in control. Once we get over this, we can recognize our dependence on God–not in a resentful way, but in a thankful way. Thankful that it’s not all up to us. So the second benefit of waiting seems to be gratitude. The joyful part comes into play when we realize Who we are waiting for. We should be looking forward to the arrival of the Holy Spirit like lovers long for each other.

And so, daily waiting for the Holy Spirit, we live our lives in surrender to God’s will, in gratitude, and joy…and we become holy.

Readings for the second Sunday of Lent.

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