WILDERNESS AGAIN

I gave a day of Lenten Reflection yesterday using the following idea. I've used it before, but the response it received yesterdays way made me decide that it is worth revisiting.

Wilderness as a Metaphor 

We all know the story of how, after the tenth plague in Egypt, Pharaoh at last consented to let

the Israelites go into the wilderness to "offer a pilgrim-feast to the Lord." At that point Moses led them on a daring dash for freedom, through the Red Sea and out into the wilderness in what appeared to be a charge into the open jaws of death. In this wilderness there was little water and no food, only hostile tribes and poisonous snakes. 

Midbar

"Wilderness" translates the Hebrew word, midbar, which is sometimes incorrectly translated as "desert."My Hebrew dictionary says that midbar means "tracts of land used for pasturing flocks and herds; uninhabited land." The word conveys the sense of a land that is still wide open space, un-surveyed, unmapped, undomesticated by humans. The wilderness is land that is still relatively free of human control. In Exodus theology the wilderness represented divine presence, lack of human control -- and freedom. 

In sharp contrast to the wilderness stood Egypt, which was very much under human control. In fact, the Egypt of the Pharaohs was famous for its order and neatness. So Egypt represented human rationality, human order -- and slavery. Thus in Israel's tradition the wilderness came to symbolize the unpredictable and unfathomable side of life, the mystery of God. This contrast between Egypt and the wilderness is crucial to a Christian view of troubled times. 

The Wilderness as "God's Country" 

We can use the word "wilderness" to refer to any and all of those difficult times we ourselves

experience, as well as the times when we are experiencing the pain of others second-hand as I have been this past week. To live in the wilderness means living in mystery, where things are beyond my understanding and my control; it is to live in "God's Country." 

There is another important dimension to the wilderness symbolism. In Hebrew thought, history is experienced as linear, not cyclical: it starts with creation and moves relentlessly toward its fulfillment. 

We individuals are born into that flow and are called to shape it by our decisions. We are moving onward with the flow of time toward the future. God gives us the future and we accept it from his hand. When Israel was called out of Egypt, she was also called out of the past and asked to move joyfully and trustingly into God's future. The wilderness, then, was not only a symbol of divine mystery but also a symbol of the future. Each of us is called, like the Israelites, into an unknown future; but if we don't know God's goodness or trust in God's love, we experience the future as a threat. On the other hand, if we trust in God's goodness and love, then the future is transformed from a threat into a promise. The wilderness as the unknown future is in a special sense God's preserve, it is par excellence "God's Country." 

So, if I had to say a word of comfort to any of the people I’ve been praying for, I’d probably say something like this: 

"I see that right now events in your life are completely beyond your control, and the future is unknown and terrifying; you are in the land of darkest mystery. Well, take off your shoes, because you are on holy ground. Welcome to the wilderness -- welcome to God's country! This is where the Lord is expecting to meet you and love you and deliver you." 

Let’s all pray for our brothers and sisters who find themselves victims of every mysterious kind of tragedy around the world, and any people who are right now wandering in a land of fearful mystery. May they experience the reassurance that comes from realizing that the trackless wasteland in which they find themselves is indeed God’s mysterious country, and that God fully intends to meet them there – and probably already has. 

LEARNING FROM CHILDREN

 “Amen, I say to you, whoever does not accept the Kingdom of God likea child will not enter it." (Mk 10:16)

After preaching on this passage from today’s gospel at our community mass this morning, I came to my room and continued reading a book entitled “A time to die.” Written in French, it recounts stories of how monks in eight monasteries in France had faced death. It is, as you would expect, a little somber at times, but the overall thrust is that monks generally see death as simply a transition to the eternal life that they’ve been aiming at during their entire life in the monastery.

This quotation on one Abbot’s coat of arms summarizes his spirituality: “As newborn babes." Because its message is so close to today’s gospel passage, I would like to share an entire long paragraph with you (my translation). The abbot wanted to explain his choice of this bible verse to his brothers.

In a moving text, he describes his vision of the monastic ideal: to become a child. This implies a change, an effort, a true labor. This transformation, however, is the indispensable condition for entering into the family of God, into his sanctuary into the kingdom of heaven, to enter into this game, which is the monastic life. Now, what does spiritual childhood consist of? In one word, it is made of simplicity, of confidence, total abandonment into the hands of God. […] Thus the monastic life is a life made for children. The monastic life is a game, the grand game of love [“charité”]. In a game, you have to respect the rules, that’s just like in the monastic life. The monastic life is a game which is played with God and with those whom the Lord has chosen to bring to the monastery, those that we call our brothers. Truly monastic life is a conspiracy of love.”

The simple message that any Christian can take from blog post is this, to borrow afootnote from the New American Bible, “Whoever does not accept the kingdom of God like a child: i.e., in total dependence upon and obedience to the gospel.”

"Total dependence upon and obedience to the gospel” would seem to be a good message for the beginning of Lent, challenging us to root out all those things that we depend on rather than depending totally on God.

Have a blessed Ash Wednesday and a holy Lent!

WHERE IS GOD?

Heaven Touches Earth 

The gospel passage for Yesterday's feast, the Chair of Saint Peter, included that famous quotation,

 a

“I will give you the keys to the Kingdom of heaven.

Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven;

and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.” (Mt 16:19)

As I was reflecting on that gospel passage I was reminded of that idea that I have mentioned in this blog previously: in both Jewish and Christian tradition there is this basic belief that “heaven touches earth.”

For Jews at the time of Christ, heaven touches earth in the Torah and in the Temple.  God is present in both of these in a special way. In addition they see God is acting in history, in such acts as delivering his people from Egypt, or knocking down the walls of Jericho.

For Christians, heaven has touched earth once and for all when God

took on human flesh and dwelt among us. We celebrate that presence as focused in a special way in the sacraments, but also in the idea that Jesus is present in others around us:  “Whatever you do to the least of my brothers you do to me.” 

God Touches Earth 

But it occurred to me this morning that maybe this idea of heaven touching earth is misleading and incomplete when stated this way. I find it more powerful to say instead, “GOD is constantly present on earth and in heaven.”

God is present everywhere, and in everything in creation. In trees and rocks in oceans, and in stars, and of course in each one of us who is created in the image of God. 

To deny that God is present in everything we would have to say that therefore God is not present everywhere in creation, that there are limits to God‘s presence! But a God who has limits cannot possibly be God. There are plenty of passages in the New Testament that point towards the belief that God is indeed present in each of us.

God is in ME!

So I have revised my understanding of the idea that “heaven touches earth“ by saying that “heaven and earth are touching in me,” that is, “God is living in me!” 

Saint Paul even says “It is no longer I that live, but Christ lives in me.” Let the implications of that sink in: I suddenly realize that I have to act as if God is present in me. What does that look like? For an answer me might look at the gospel assigned for today, the Seventh Sunday of Ordinary Time:

Jesus said to his disciples:

“To you who hear I say,

love your enemies, do good to those who hate you,

bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.

To the person who strikes you on one cheek,

offer the other one as well,

and from the person who takes your cloak,

do not withhold even your tunic.

…

love your enemies and do good to them,

and lend expecting nothing back;

then your reward will be great

and you will be children of the Most High,

for he himself is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked.

Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.

The whole New Testament is a guide for how we should behave if Christ is living inside of us. When we read or listen to the Scriptures, then, we might want to listen for those passages that are meant to teach us how to behave as if God is present inside of us. Let me end with this example from Jesus' Sermon on the Mount:

"Set no limits on your love, just as your Heavenly Father sets no limits on His love." (Mt. 5:48 Jerusalem Bible Rev. Ed.)

CASTING THE LORD'S NET

APOLOGIES. A week ago our IT department replaced my laptop, but in the process I lost access to my blog. I had already written my post in Google.docs but was unable to post it. So now that all is well again I'm presenting at last the week-old post, Sorry about that! 

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Two main trains of thought have been coming together in my mind over the past few days.

First, on Friday (Feb.7) I attended the funeral of Father James O’Donnell,O.S.B. who was 95 years old. This ceremony was a time for me to reflect on my own death, even though I am only 82. The beautiful homily ended with that lovely Bible verse “Well done, good and faithful servant.“

I did not have long to reflect on the implications of the funeral before the secondmain thought intruded. This time it came from the first reading for today’s (Sunday Feb 9) mass. It ends with the prophet Isaiah saying to the Lord, “Here I am, send me!“ And then the gospel told of Jesus choosing his first apostles and assuring them that they will become “fishers of men.“

Suddenly, my meditations shifted from “Well done, good and faithful servant” to “Here I am, send me.”

Maybe the two verses combine best into this thought of mine: "I believe that the morning the Lord no longer needs me to be his apostle I will wake up dead."

It is actually pretty easy for me to see what the Lord is asking of me right now, how he is expecting me to catch others in the net of his divine love. I live in a community of fourteen monks and spend time every day with the children of our school community (grades K-12). So my question becomes “How does the Lord need me to bear witness to him in these different communities?”  Then this question quickly expands to include my wider community of friends and family. 

I’m called to “catch” all of these and others in the “net” of God’s all-embracing love by my words and actions and attitudes.  

At some point the Lord is going to say to me, I trust, “Well done, good and faithful servant.“ Then I will begin a new phase of my life, during which I will continue in heaven to pray for all of my brother monks, friends and family who will be counting on my intercession.

But until that day, I hope to continue casting my net like a good apostle.

FEEDING THE WRONG DOG?

Recently I came across this image: each of us has two “dogs” within us, one good and the other bad. We need to feed the good dog, nourishing it so that it keeps growing. The other dog we need to ignore and starve until it simply fades away.

You strengthen the good dog by deeds of love, such as going out of your way to help someone or giving up what you want for the sake of the group, or being patient with someone whom you don’t particularly like.

But on the other hand, we sometimes find ourselves “feeding the wrong dog.“

You can feed the wrong dog in countless different ways. For example, working yourself up into an angry mood over some something that someone said to you hours ago, or joining in a negative conversation that is hurtful to all involved. When you impatiently write off someone else's idea  without even listening to the person, you are feeding the wrong dog. You can examine your conscience to see the ways that you tend to feed the wrong dog.

I think that a good way to distinguish whether you are feeding the wrong dog or the right one is to notice the way you feel afterwards. Feeding the wrong dog may make you feel good for a minute or two, but in the end it will not leave you truly satisfied, while feeding the right dog usually leaves you feeling a sense of peace, of being your true self, created in the image of God.

I have been catching myself recently cheating a little bit. Although not “feeding the wrong dog” in some crude and obvious way, I occasionally toss that bad dog a little treat. It may be some action that is hardly noticeable even to myself, but the wrong dog still gets the message -- and so does the good one.

The whole idea is to starve wrong dog until it dies of neglect.  And that takes a conscious effort on my part, and cooperation with the Holy Spirit.

I have found this metaphor very helpful at times, and I hope that maybe you will as well.

AN UNLIKELY GROUP

This past week we Americans have been following the news of President Trump’s selecting members for his cabinet. Also during this week NFL football fans have been following the news of several football teams choosing new coaches and new general managers.

So it seemed very appropriate that this past Friday’s gospel at mass presented Jesus’ choosing his twelve apostles.

Father Edwin, our school’s Headmaster, gave an interesting reflection to our students about Jesus choosing the apostles. Fr. Ed posed this question: How many people did Jesus have to ask before he found twelve who would accept his invitation? Maybe there were a lot of people who Jesus asked, but who found excuses for not following him.

What is interesting is that the twelve that Jesus wound up with are hardly a model group. There was Peter who would three times deny that he even knew Jesus. There were James and his brother John whom Jesus nicknamed “Boanerges,” or “Sons of Thunder” — in other words, “ Bigmouths.” There was Thomas who was constantly doubting everything, and then that unlikely pair: Matthew (who collected taxes for the Romans), and Judas  (a militant “Zealot” who wanted to expel the Romans by force). And finally, let’s not forget Judas Iscariot, who would betray his Master for a few pieces of silver.

There is no record of Jesus’ having done any job interviews or background checks when he was choosing this group on whom He would depend to spread his Gospel of love to the world.

This is good news here for us today: The same Jesus who selected those unlikely first apostles has chosen you and me as well. We are to carry on their mission of announcing the Good News of the Kingdom. We do this less dramatically, of course, simply by living lives of Christ-like love.

No matter what our shortcomings, then, they can’t be any worse than those of the first apostles. The Lord can work with our shortcomings as well, and may even be able to use them to help spread the Gospel. Why not?

So there are no excuses. We are each called personally by Jesus to be apostles, and sent to be preachers of the Word.

MY ROLE AT CANA

The gospel for this Sunday, Jan. 19, 20225, is John's account of the miracle at the wedding feast of Cana (Jn 2:1-11). John's is the only gospel that recounts this beautiful story, so rich in symbolism and encouragement. In this post, however, instead of offering yet one more analysis of the miracle of Jesus' changing water into wine I'd like to offer my own rather offbeat look at the miracle. (I posted this a few years ago, but it still holds a message for me, so I hope it will for you as well.)

On the Sunday after Christmas, the CCD children of St. Augustine's Parish in Newark presented their annual Christmas pageant, including Roman soldiers, shepherds, angels, magi, as well as Mary and Joseph.  One of the show-stopping moments was the appearance of the Star in the East: the part of the star was a blond five year old girl whose role was to hold up the golden star on a white stick. She seemed to enjoy being the "star" of the pageant.

As I began reflecting on the story of the miracle at Cana this morning, I was about to imagine myself in the role of each of the different characters in the scene: the servants, Mary, and so forth. Then I thought to myself (probably influenced by remembering the little girl who played the part of the star of Bethlehem) "Why not be a water jar?"

So I became one of those six stone jars, holding about thirty gallons of water. A very noble and honest task, if a little humdrum. People hardly notice me sitting here off to the side, minding my own business. Just a big container of well water. But suddenly something happens to me. I don't know how -- it isn't anything that I've done -- but now I've become  source of joy and pleasure for people who encounter me.  My role has changed from being a jar of water to a jar of wonderful wine. 

The gospel tells us that this is the first of Jesus' "signs." I've become, then, a sign of the breaking in of the Kingdom, a sign that the Lord is on the move again, entering history to transform it and us. 

How does this transformation happen? In countless ways, I suppose.  For instance, when I receive theHoly Eucharist I become what I eat. When the Holy Spirit whispers to me in a comment made by a friend, say, or calls to me in the words of some writer, or when I experience someone's loving act toward me. The Lord intends that each of these should transform me. The change is happening over and over, all the time, provided that I'm open to it. 

But there's more: This process of transformation runs in both directions. If the Lord Jesus uses people and events to transform the water of my life into wine, then he asks me, in my role as a jar of wine at the feast to be an active sign of his love for others. Every time I encounter someone, Jesus is asking me to be a sign of his boundless, unconditional love, a source of joy for that person. The bible says somewhere that "wine cheers the heart" of us humans. That's the role the Lord is casting me in right now, to be a source and a cause of joy, to "cheer the heart "of those around me, to be a sign of the Kingdom of Love that has broken in on the world with the arrival of the Messiah.

Will you try out for the role along with me?