Month: March 2022

In today’s first reading, the Servant of the Lord is announcing freedom to the Jewish exiles in Babylonia.

In a time of favor I answer you,
            on the day of salvation I help you;
            and I have kept you and given you as a covenant to the people….

There is no way to overstate the crisis the exile in Babylon was for God’s people. They had been deprived of homeland and had been stripped of everything that had given them their identity. There on the banks of the streams of Babylon they must have wondered how God could truly have been God if he had let the Babylonians defeat them, desecrate the temple, and force them to leave the land that had been promised to their ancestors Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Were they now forgotten by God? Would he ever remember them? Would he save them? Did God still love them? Could they ever trust the Lord again?

The conversations of the people of God in Babylon are similar to the conversations whispered in the homes where we’ve isolated far from our churches and from everything that had been “normal” about our life. We might have said with Zion: “The Lord has forsaken me, my Lord has forgotten me.”

Isn’t it too late now for God to show up, after loved ones have died, livelihoods lost, children affected by years of education interrupted? After millions across the globe have suffered indescribable loss.

The Jewish people in Babylon must have wondered also at this prophecy spoken by Isaiah:

Thus says the LORD:

In a time of favor I answer you,
            on the day of salvation I help you;
            and I have kept you and given you as a covenant to the people,
To restore the land
            and allot the desolate heritages,
Saying to the prisoners: Come out!
To those in darkness: Show yourselves!
Along the ways they shall find pasture,
            on every bare height shall their pastures be.
They shall not hunger or thirst,
            nor shall the scorching wind or the sun strike them;
For he who pities them leads them
            and guides them beside springs of water.

As we one by one continue to reshape our lives, we might wonder why the Lord didn’t “comfort his people and show mercy to his afflicted” by stopping the pandemic in its tracks before the damage across the globe had been done.

Our lament is as sorrow-filled and pitiful as the songs sung by the exiles who hung up their harps, refusing to sing the songs of Zion in a foreign land.

I hear such kindness in the final words of this first reading. God understands his people’s tears, their loss. He listens to the confusion and hurt of his people who, because of their infidelity to the Lord and their choices to align themselves with other nations instead of trusting in him, had been carried off into exile by these same nations. God doesn’t correct their theology with reminders about how good he is, how faithful, how he is ever present.

Instead, he evokes the image of tender love that is at the very foundation of every human life, an image that means warmth, safety, nourishment, a generous life poured out that a child might live.

But Zion said, “The LORD has forsaken me;
We say with them.
            my Lord has forgotten me.”

Can a mother forget her infant,
            be without tenderness for the child of her womb?
Even should she forget,
            I will never forget you.

Take a deep breath, my friend, and allow yourself to share your true feelings and fears with God. Wail and rail if you must. Be honest with the Lord in every way. And then receive his arms that surround you with a mother’s love, this God who pours out his life and tenderness in absolute fidelity to us forever. Let these words wash over you again and again, “I will never forget you. Never. Ever. My child. I could never be without tenderness for you.”

Image Credit: Pixabay

“Command that these two sons of mine sit,
one at your right and the other at your left, in your kingdom.”

A Reflection on today’s Gospel reading: The mother of James and John requests places of honor for her two sons in the Lord’s kingdom.

Possibilities, prestige, power…. As any good mother looking out for the interests of her children, she took the opportunity to ask for places of honor for her two sons.

The other request for a place in the kingdom of Jesus that comes to mind is the request made by the repentant thief recorded in the gospel of Luke (23:42-43). 

Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” He replied to him, “Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”

What is the difference between these two requests for a place in the kingdom? They clearly received two very different responses from Jesus.

The repentant thief speaks from a place of surrender, of petition, of awareness of his sin and his need. He turns to Jesus with the trust that is available to him at that most desperate moment of his life. He responds to the action of the Holy Spirit in the measure to which he is capable in this first encounter with his Savior. In a sense, we can say that he is more completely in the form of holiness which is Jesus himself, the form of obedient humble surrender:

Mary, the mother who stood beneath her Son as he died on the cross, no doubt heard this plea that broke from the heart of the repentant thief, and in her heart echoed her own words of obedient surrender uttered years earlier at the Annunciation, “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38), and at the wedding feast of Cana: “They have no wine,” “Do whatever he tells you” (John 2:4-5).

The Kingdom of God is received, it is surrendered to, it is entered into by one’s complete alignment with God’s will for oneself. We can prepare ourselves, but we do this only by fertilizing the soil of our hearts through the living of the Beatitudes.

This is why it makes sense that Jesus asks the sons of Zebedee if they are ready to drink the chalice he was to drink. It was a matter, he was saying, of moving downward and pouring out one’s life for others. Then Jesus stated that he himself didn’t have that power to give away these seats in the Kingdom. This was a decision that was the prerogative of the Father. Jesus himself in his very identity as Son deferred in all things, in all ways, to his Father in complete and obedient surrender.

The request of the mother of the sons of Zebedee, and most probably the desire of the two apostles themselves, did not correspond to the very being of Jesus as Son and so was impossible to grant.

We are called to serve, to be last, to give our lives for others, to trust that the One who holds in his hands our very lives and defines our destiny is faithful and can be trusted.

What places of honor might you be seeking? They may be as world-oriented as the request of the mother of the sons of Zebedee or they might be as spiritual as great holiness or a ministry that stands out and stands above the mundane work of others. In any case, the trap is often very subtle. This Lent come to your Savior with your need and your poverty and see where he himself wishes to lead you.

But my trust is in you, O LORD;
            I say, “You are my God.”
In your hands is my destiny” (from today’s Psalm).

Image credit: Titian, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

What do you most judge about yourself? Can you list five things that you appreciate about yourself? Are you certain that God couldn’t do anything but unconditionally love you?

These first days of Lent I pondered these questions. Rooted in my earliest childhood years I found events that in some way had contributed to breaking down an awareness of the absolute reality of God’s claim on my life which he had instilled in me at my Baptism. I found that as I was reflecting on these questions, I was judging myself harshly, couldn’t list even one thing that I appreciated about myself, and wasn’t deeply certain that God endlessly loved me.

Let me share with you an image.

When I consider the ways in which I try to be significant, central, satisfied, I imagine a beautiful, glistening sunshine-drenched path in front of me (outside of me) leading to a horizon of happiness that I can’t quite see but am quite sure is there. When I traced the roots of this image back to my earliest years, I discovered one particular day in which I maliciously made a statement against another person, thinking others would be proud of me, include me, want me, praise me because I had aligned myself with their values.

It didn’t happen. In fact, I was told that I was never to speak that way again.

As I pray with this wounding situation, I have to admit that my child’s heart had been filled with malicious glee at the expense of another person who became the target of my criticism. I had been sure that I would at last attain acceptance in behaving in a way that didn’t spring from my Christ-self. I was elated at the promise of at last belonging. I felt a lightness and strength and happiness.

That sunshine-drenched path that seemingly stretched before me, however, was suddenly drenched in tears, the glistening light extinguished.

As I prayerfully rested with this image it shifted, and I had a sense of walking, as a child, among the stars in the night sky. I couldn’t see around me, no goal stretched out before me, no one else’s values or ideology fascinated me with the false promise of personal significance. Yet I felt safe and a type of cosmic and divine belonging, stepping through the starry night as each star became a bridge on a path, that was being put there just for me. A path not sought. I was enjoying going step by step, unseeing, where I was led. I was blessed with a feeling of the peace of holy childlikeness.

In a veritable song of triumph, Saint Paul exclaims in Romans 8 this one reality that truly grounds our life: “Now Christ lives his life in you!” (v. 10) Yes, our bodies are dead because of the effects of sin, but the Spirit of God, the life-giving Spirit imparts life to us because we are fully accepted by God. The Spirit breathes life into us and will raise us to life, as God raised Jesus to life!

Lent is a time to refocus our attention from the flesh which suffers the effects of sin to the full acceptance that is ours because we have been enfolded by the Spirit of Jesus into the family of God (v. 14-15).

Yes the body is dead because of the effects of the original fall of Adam and Eve, as well as the sins of others who affect my life and my own sins. AND the life-giving Spirit has imparted life to me. I can taste this life if I no longer live controlled by the flesh (v. 13). The penances of Lent aren’t really about proving we have the grit to last 40 days without something we really like or doing something that we don’t normally do. Prayer, fasting, and almsgiving train us to live our lives no longer controlled by the flesh so that we can taste the abundance of life God has given us in his Son. The children of God are those who allow themselves to be led by the Spirit, who are moved by the impulses of the Holy Spirit (v. 14).

Everything I wanted in that childhood event: acceptance, association with another by talking their  values, personal value, I receive as the Spirit rises within me. The “sun-drenched path before me” suddenly becomes the Spirit’s linking my life to the Trinity when he whispers with tender affection to my heart: “You are God’s beloved child!” I have received the Spirit of adoption who has me cry out, “Abba! Father!” Sacramentally at Baptism the words, “Beloved Father!” became my joy to say, my declaration of true and everlasting belonging. I share all his treasures and will be co-glorified with Christ provided I accept as my own the suffering caused by the Spirit working in me the death of my sin and my darkness (v. 14-17). The glory of God to be revealed in us is far greater than anything we give up in this process of spiritual maturation in Christ.

Again, this glory which I have sought in external things that have pleased and flattered me, promising me a rosy future is actually bestowed on me in Christ. The whole universe is standing on tiptoe as it were, watching in the darkness to see the unveiling of God’s glory in those he has claimed for his family. The Holy Spirit takes hold of us making our destiny coincide with God’s plan. Our destiny and God’s plan are one thing. And because they are woven into one, we can trust that in every detail God is working out his perfect plan to bring good into our lives. The Lenten blessing this very morning for Wednesday of the First Week of Lent prays: “in your kindness cleanse [your people] from all sins, for if evil has no dominion over them, no trial can do them harm.” We have been called, shaped, redeemed, and empowered by the Spirit to fulfill God’s divine purpose. “For he knew all about us before we were born and he destined us from the beginning to share the likeness of his Son” (v. 29-30). In the Amplified version these verses read: “For those whom He foreknew [and loved and chose beforehand], He also predestined to be conformed to the image of His Son [and ultimately share in His complete sanctification], so that He would be the firstborn [the most beloved and honored] among many believers. And those whom He predestined, He also called; and those whom He called, He also justified [declared free of the guilt of sin]; and those whom He justified, He also glorified [raising them to a heavenly dignity].”

This Lent, instead of mourning all the ways in which my happy plans for personal glory have been obstructed, I’m resetting my spiritual life to focus on how God has been determined to stand with us and nothing else can stand against us. I am rejoicing in Jesus who said that nothing could snatch us out of his hands! I am carefully adjusting the lens of my heart so that I can reverently praise my Beloved Father who freely offered his Son up for us all and will certainly not withhold from us anything else he has to give.

So nothing, not even my silly vainglory, not even my wounded desires to belong, can separate me from God’s endless love. God is having me triumph overall because he made me a conqueror. His love in me is my glorious victory over everything! Nothing can separate my belonging, my sure groundedness, my absolute certainty of being loved because of his love lavished on us in Christ Jesus! (v. 35-39). Nothing. Ever. Will. Separate. Me. From. Christ.

Images Credit: Via Cathopic: Marilopz, Luis Ca, Carloscastolo