When you hear the word “glorious,” what do you think of? A marvelous sunset? A majestic mountain? A magnificent cathedral? Something glorious is more than merely good, and greater than simply beautiful. Instead, something glorious makes our eyes widen, our jaws drop, and takes our breath away.
When the Bible speaks of the “glory” of God, it typically refers to the awesomeness of God. Consider today’s gospel passage. Certain people wished to see Jesus. In response, Jesus announced that his “hour” to be glorified had come. Jesus asked God the Father to glorify his name and a thundering voice announced that he had glorified it and would glorify it again! How? By Jesus’ being lifted up on the cross and drawing everyone to himself.
To see Jesus on the cross is to see the glory of God, and it is an awesome thing to see. The crucifixion itself isn’t awesome; it’s horrifying and gruesome. It’s awesome because it reveals God’s love for us in a way that nothing else can. It shows that God loves us so much that he’d die for us. That’s a love that can take our breath away. And that love is the glory of God.
However, God doesn’t want his love to simply amaze us. God wants us to love him back! We should ask ourselves: How much do we love God? Think of it this way: Relationships don’t tend to last very long when one person is more “into” the relationship than the other. That’s why pop culture these days encourages us to dump someone if he or she is “just not that into you.” Thankfully, Jesus would never dump us, because we could never be “into” him as much as he’s “into” us. But we still might ask ourselves: Are we “into” Jesus as much as we might be? To answer that question, let’s take from the Internet one top ten list of signs that someone’s “just not that into you,” and apply it to our relationship with the Lord.
Sign Number One: He’s too busy to meet up with you. Well, do we have time for prayer and doing God’s work? We make time for people who are important to us. Yet what about the Lord? Is time with him a priority? Or are we just too busy?
Sign Number Two: He won’t share his feelings with you. Many of us are afraid to share our deepest feelings with God. We think he’ll be disappointed or angry. So we tell God the things we think he wants to hear, instead of what we really want to tell him. It shows we don’t trust him or understand him. And it makes our faith stale and superficial.
Sign Number Three: He never picks up the tab. God invites us to a banquet every Sunday! But are we a cheap date? Do we give back to him generously, or grudgingly? Do we give with a smile or clenched teeth? Remember: It’s not the amount that counts; it’s the love behind the gift.
Sign Number Four: He’s afraid of commitment. Are we half-hearted Catholics? On again, off-again? Does our Christianity run hot then cold? True discipleship is about surrendering our whole lives into God’s hands. Yet so often we keep God at arm’s length. God doesn’t want us as a casual acquaintance. He wants our faithful friendship.
Sign Number Five: He disrespects you by putting down your values, thoughts, and ideas. Do we disrespect God by ignoring his will? Do we strive to follow his commands? Or do we ignore church teaching we think is unreasonable, too hard to follow, or we don’t really understand? Do we want to do what God wants us to do? Or do we do what we want and hope that God doesn’t mind?
Sign Number Six: There are other women in his life. Now, we probably don’t worship other gods like Zeus or Vishnu. But things like the love of money, power and prestige, an all-consuming project, a hobby, even a relationship, can become idols which displace God from the center of our lives. To be devoted to them can be like cheating on God.
Sign Number Seven: He only comes to see you late at night. Think about it: Do we only have time for God when it’s convenient for us? Is our faith important to us only if it makes us feel good? Do we have time for God only when we need or want something from him? God wants a relationship with us. He doesn’t want to be used.
Sign Number Eight: You never meet his friends or family. Do we introduce God to our friends and family, or are we embarrassed about or ashamed of our faith? If we were on trial for being a Christian, would there be enough evidence to convict us? Would people be surprised to learn that we’re Catholic? Or is it evident through what we do and say?
Sign Number Nine: He disappears for days, weeks, months at a time. Sound familiar? Are we Easter and Christmas Catholics? Once a month Mass-goers? And when was the last time we went to confession? Once a year is the minimum. “Out of sight, out of mind,” the old saying goes. If God is in our mind, we’ll try to see him, all the time.
Sign Number Ten: He gives you the silent treatment. God wants us to spend quiet time with him. We don’t even need to speak; sometimes it’s best just to listen. But God doesn’t want the “silent treatment” from us. Because communication is key to any relationship.
In God’s love for us, we see his glory. But there’s another meaning to “glory.” To give God “glory” is to give him praise. We might say that we glorify God on account of his glory! In other words, we praise God for his love. And the best way we can do that, is by showing how much we love him, in return.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Sunday, March 15, 2009
March 15- Lent 3
How has the economic downturn made you feel? Anxious about your job? Fearful for the future? Depressed from all the bad news? Confused about what to do next or where to turn? More than anything, the current recession has left people feeling angry.
Some are angry with themselves because of poor financial decisions they’ve made. Maybe they borrowed too much, and now find themselves in over their heads. Or it could be they put all their eggs in one basket- be it a house or the stock market- and they’ve now lost their shirts.
Most people’s anger, however, is directed at those they think are responsible for this whole mess, be it politicians, government regulators, Wall Street bankers, the employer who laid them off, a broker who pedaled that risky mortgage, Fannie May, Bernie Madoff, whomever. When they hear of Jesus’ overturning moneychangers’ tables in the Temple, and driving out merchants with a whip, they appreciate the gesture- and wish sometimes they could do something similar themselves!
What Jesus saw that day in the Temple were religious pilgrims being ripped off. In order to make the required financial offering, they had to trade in their coins bearing the image of the Roman emperor, which was considered an idol, for different coins. That was all well and good- except for the outrageously high exchange rates they were expected to pay. And as for the doves being sold for the religious sacrifices, they could be bought more cheaply elsewhere in the city. Funny thing, though- these cheaper doves never seemed to pass muster with the temple inspectors. Only the overpriced doves sold in the Temple itself, ever seemed to make the grade. The long and short of it was that the poor were being exploited and taken advantage of- in God’s own house, no less! It’s no wonder why Jesus did what he did.
Both the scandalous situation Jesus encountered in the Temple, and our present economic state of affairs, were caused by one and the same thing: human greed. Greed led to the fleecing of pilgrims in Jesus’ day, and greed has led to the financial troubles in our own. As Pope Benedict declared just this past week, "…underneath the current global economic crisis lurks greed, rooted in original sin."
In the face of such greed, anger can be an understandable response. We see innocent or unsuspecting people being hurt; people we know and love are hurting; we ourselves may be hurting right now. And we feel angry. Jesus understands. In the Temple, he saw people he loved being hurt too. Scripture doesn’t tell us how he felt. But it does tell us how he acted.
What he did is traditionally referred to as the “Cleansing of the Temple.” It was not an act of wrath or vengeance. It was, like everything else Jesus did, an act of love. As its title suggests, it was a purifying, cleansing act. It removed the stain of greed from God’s Temple so that it might once again be what God intended to be: a house of prayer where people could encounter Him.
Jesus’ action in the Temple suggests how we might respond to the anger we may feel over the economy. On the one hand, our anger can lead to bitterness, resentment, depression. We encounter a lot of this these days. Perhaps we’re even struggling with these symptoms ourselves.
On the other hand, we can follow in our Lord’s footsteps and do something positive with our anger. St. Augustine once said that anger, along with her sister courage, are daughters of hope. We can use our anger at the way things are to help change things into what they should be. Using our anger in this way is not sinful at all; not in the least! In fact, we might even say it’s absolutely necessary. As the Holy Father said this past New Year’s Day, the World Day of Peace, change will happen only when people “feel personally outraged by the injustices in the world and by the concomitant violations of human rights.”
On our own, we probably can’t do much to change financial institutions or global economic systems. If we have an opportunity to do so, we should, especially if we’re leaders in politics, finance, or business. At the very least, we can vote, make our voices heard, and challenge those who can to make things better.
What all of us can do, however, is open ourselves to change. This is essential, because just and fair economic systems can only be built upon a foundation of people committed to fairness and justice. To do this, we might recall that we ourselves are temples; Scripture calls us “Temples of the Holy Spirit.” We can look within our temples and see if we discover any greed. Chances are, we will. Thankfully, just like he did with the Jerusalem Temple, Jesus can cleanse our temple too, if we let him- through prayer, through confession, through Holy Communion; through the challenging words of Scripture, through the wisdom and correction we might receive from our brothers and sisters in Christ.
With his healing grace, Jesus can cleanse us of greed and make space for far better things. Jesus can make space within us for simplicity, so we can be focused more upon needs, not wants. Jesus can make space within us for gratitude, so we can be more thankful for what we do have, instead of envious for the things we don’t. Jesus can make space within us for compassion, so we can reach out to others who are hurting in this economy- people who greed typically makes us overlook. Most importantly, Jesus can make more space within us for God himself. Greed can turnmoney into an idol, whichcan displace God within our temples. That’s why, when he gave those Ten Commandments in the first reading, God specifically forbade idols.
Because God is, after all, what every one of his temples- you and me- should be all about.
Some are angry with themselves because of poor financial decisions they’ve made. Maybe they borrowed too much, and now find themselves in over their heads. Or it could be they put all their eggs in one basket- be it a house or the stock market- and they’ve now lost their shirts.
Most people’s anger, however, is directed at those they think are responsible for this whole mess, be it politicians, government regulators, Wall Street bankers, the employer who laid them off, a broker who pedaled that risky mortgage, Fannie May, Bernie Madoff, whomever. When they hear of Jesus’ overturning moneychangers’ tables in the Temple, and driving out merchants with a whip, they appreciate the gesture- and wish sometimes they could do something similar themselves!
What Jesus saw that day in the Temple were religious pilgrims being ripped off. In order to make the required financial offering, they had to trade in their coins bearing the image of the Roman emperor, which was considered an idol, for different coins. That was all well and good- except for the outrageously high exchange rates they were expected to pay. And as for the doves being sold for the religious sacrifices, they could be bought more cheaply elsewhere in the city. Funny thing, though- these cheaper doves never seemed to pass muster with the temple inspectors. Only the overpriced doves sold in the Temple itself, ever seemed to make the grade. The long and short of it was that the poor were being exploited and taken advantage of- in God’s own house, no less! It’s no wonder why Jesus did what he did.
Both the scandalous situation Jesus encountered in the Temple, and our present economic state of affairs, were caused by one and the same thing: human greed. Greed led to the fleecing of pilgrims in Jesus’ day, and greed has led to the financial troubles in our own. As Pope Benedict declared just this past week, "…underneath the current global economic crisis lurks greed, rooted in original sin."
In the face of such greed, anger can be an understandable response. We see innocent or unsuspecting people being hurt; people we know and love are hurting; we ourselves may be hurting right now. And we feel angry. Jesus understands. In the Temple, he saw people he loved being hurt too. Scripture doesn’t tell us how he felt. But it does tell us how he acted.
What he did is traditionally referred to as the “Cleansing of the Temple.” It was not an act of wrath or vengeance. It was, like everything else Jesus did, an act of love. As its title suggests, it was a purifying, cleansing act. It removed the stain of greed from God’s Temple so that it might once again be what God intended to be: a house of prayer where people could encounter Him.
Jesus’ action in the Temple suggests how we might respond to the anger we may feel over the economy. On the one hand, our anger can lead to bitterness, resentment, depression. We encounter a lot of this these days. Perhaps we’re even struggling with these symptoms ourselves.
On the other hand, we can follow in our Lord’s footsteps and do something positive with our anger. St. Augustine once said that anger, along with her sister courage, are daughters of hope. We can use our anger at the way things are to help change things into what they should be. Using our anger in this way is not sinful at all; not in the least! In fact, we might even say it’s absolutely necessary. As the Holy Father said this past New Year’s Day, the World Day of Peace, change will happen only when people “feel personally outraged by the injustices in the world and by the concomitant violations of human rights.”
On our own, we probably can’t do much to change financial institutions or global economic systems. If we have an opportunity to do so, we should, especially if we’re leaders in politics, finance, or business. At the very least, we can vote, make our voices heard, and challenge those who can to make things better.
What all of us can do, however, is open ourselves to change. This is essential, because just and fair economic systems can only be built upon a foundation of people committed to fairness and justice. To do this, we might recall that we ourselves are temples; Scripture calls us “Temples of the Holy Spirit.” We can look within our temples and see if we discover any greed. Chances are, we will. Thankfully, just like he did with the Jerusalem Temple, Jesus can cleanse our temple too, if we let him- through prayer, through confession, through Holy Communion; through the challenging words of Scripture, through the wisdom and correction we might receive from our brothers and sisters in Christ.
With his healing grace, Jesus can cleanse us of greed and make space for far better things. Jesus can make space within us for simplicity, so we can be focused more upon needs, not wants. Jesus can make space within us for gratitude, so we can be more thankful for what we do have, instead of envious for the things we don’t. Jesus can make space within us for compassion, so we can reach out to others who are hurting in this economy- people who greed typically makes us overlook. Most importantly, Jesus can make more space within us for God himself. Greed can turnmoney into an idol, whichcan displace God within our temples. That’s why, when he gave those Ten Commandments in the first reading, God specifically forbade idols.
Because God is, after all, what every one of his temples- you and me- should be all about.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Has there ever been a time in your life, or even a particular moment, when God was very real and present to you? When you heard the voice of God speak? When God reached down and tapped you on the shoulder (or whacked you on the head)? When the truths of our faith became crystal clear and made perfect sense? When God was nearby, like a friend, guiding you, protecting you, challenging you? Experiences and times like these move us so deeply, that they’re almost impossible to forget.
Peter, James, and John surely must have felt this way about their having witnessed the transfiguration of Jesus on a mountaintop. The brilliant divinity of Jesus as the Son of God shone so powerfully that it was blinding. The voice of God the Father proclaimed Jesus as his Son, and ordered the three disciples to listen. They were enveloped in a cloud; Moses and Elijah appeared; they fell on their knees.
But then it was all over in a flash. Perhaps it lasted a few minutes, maybe less. We don’t know. What we do know that it was not meant to last. Jesus had given his friends a privledged “mountaintop experience.” But then he led them back down the mountain, and on toward Jerusalem, where he would suffer and die, and the disciples would experience sorrow, shame, fear, confusion, and anger. The light on the mountaintop had to give way to darkness.
Perhaps that’s been our story as well. We’ve had mountaintop experiences. They didn’t seem to last long, or as long as we might like. Then the darkness came. Our darkness might have been caused by all sorts of things. Maybe we lost a loved one. Maybe we lost a job. Maybe it was an illness or another hardship we had to endure. Things didn’t go the way we planned. A dream was shattered; our heart was broken. Perhaps we became discouraged by our sins or failings. Maybe someone else’s sins and failings got us down. Maybe the brokenness in the Church got us down.
We can call times like this a “spiritual darkness.” We feel discouraged, empty, hurt, confused, mad. We can think that God doesn’t care. Or that he isn’t listening. Or that he’s not there for us. Or that he’s just not there at all.
It’s tempting at times like this to search for, or even try to force, another mountaintop experience, so we can feel God’s closeness again. But that’s a mistake. If we go searching for experiences, we might very well fool ourselves by making stuff up or imagining things. When we expect or demand mountaintop experiences, we usually end up being disappointed when they don’t come. If you think about it, it’s not a good way for us to conduct our end of our relationship with God. Because if we really love someone, we don’t make them jump through hoops to make them prove that they love us.
Periods of darkness, as hard as they might be, can serve a useful purpose. They’re opportunities for us to grow in trust of God. God knows that it’s easy for us to trust him when he seems very close and present to us. He knows it’s difficult to trust when he appears to be absent or far away. But it’s especially at times like this that our faith can grow much stronger.
God does give us mountaintop experiences for good reasons. He sometimes gives them so we can understand that he loves us or that he even exists in the first place. Sometimes he does it to change the direction of our life or heal us of a wound. But God allows periods of darkness too. We need to accept them, and ask God how we might benefit from them. In addition, there are three things we can do when we experience darkness.
First, we need to realize that everyone has them. They’re a normal and expected part of our following in the footsteps of Jesus. They’re an opportunity for us to ask ourselves: Do we really love God? Or do we just love what he might so for us or the way he makes us feel? Love like that, if we can call it love, is pretty selfish, if you think about it. It makes God into our servant. God can use darkness, however, to help us to love him for who he is, not what he can do.
Second, it’s important in times of darkness to persevere in faith, to keep putting one foot in front of the other- to keep praying, to keep receiving the sacraments. This is all part of the test. Woody Allen once said that 80 percent of life is just showing up. There’s a sense in which we can say that a huge part of holiness is just showing up- by keeping on when we don’t feel much like keeping on. Consider Mother Teresa. Her letters published after her death reveal that she spent most of her life in spiritual darkness. For over half a century she felt no presence of God whatsoever-either in prayer or in Communion. But she persevered, and came to appreciate the meaning, and purpose, of her darkness.
Third, Jesus wants us to remember our mountaintop experiences when we’re in the midst of darkness. He allowed Peter, James, and John to see him transfigured, so the memory of this event could strengthen them during the dark days that followed, when he suffered his Passion. He wants our mountaintop experiences to strengthen us in the same way.
Even if we’ve never had what we might call a mountaintop experience, there is something we can all remember during our dark periods. Something that Jesus commands us to remember. “Do this in remembrance of me.” He’s talking about the Mass, at which we remember, and encounter ourselves, Jesus death on the cross. Even in our darkest moments, the memory of Jesus’ darkness, can give us hope to carry on.
Peter, James, and John surely must have felt this way about their having witnessed the transfiguration of Jesus on a mountaintop. The brilliant divinity of Jesus as the Son of God shone so powerfully that it was blinding. The voice of God the Father proclaimed Jesus as his Son, and ordered the three disciples to listen. They were enveloped in a cloud; Moses and Elijah appeared; they fell on their knees.
But then it was all over in a flash. Perhaps it lasted a few minutes, maybe less. We don’t know. What we do know that it was not meant to last. Jesus had given his friends a privledged “mountaintop experience.” But then he led them back down the mountain, and on toward Jerusalem, where he would suffer and die, and the disciples would experience sorrow, shame, fear, confusion, and anger. The light on the mountaintop had to give way to darkness.
Perhaps that’s been our story as well. We’ve had mountaintop experiences. They didn’t seem to last long, or as long as we might like. Then the darkness came. Our darkness might have been caused by all sorts of things. Maybe we lost a loved one. Maybe we lost a job. Maybe it was an illness or another hardship we had to endure. Things didn’t go the way we planned. A dream was shattered; our heart was broken. Perhaps we became discouraged by our sins or failings. Maybe someone else’s sins and failings got us down. Maybe the brokenness in the Church got us down.
We can call times like this a “spiritual darkness.” We feel discouraged, empty, hurt, confused, mad. We can think that God doesn’t care. Or that he isn’t listening. Or that he’s not there for us. Or that he’s just not there at all.
It’s tempting at times like this to search for, or even try to force, another mountaintop experience, so we can feel God’s closeness again. But that’s a mistake. If we go searching for experiences, we might very well fool ourselves by making stuff up or imagining things. When we expect or demand mountaintop experiences, we usually end up being disappointed when they don’t come. If you think about it, it’s not a good way for us to conduct our end of our relationship with God. Because if we really love someone, we don’t make them jump through hoops to make them prove that they love us.
Periods of darkness, as hard as they might be, can serve a useful purpose. They’re opportunities for us to grow in trust of God. God knows that it’s easy for us to trust him when he seems very close and present to us. He knows it’s difficult to trust when he appears to be absent or far away. But it’s especially at times like this that our faith can grow much stronger.
God does give us mountaintop experiences for good reasons. He sometimes gives them so we can understand that he loves us or that he even exists in the first place. Sometimes he does it to change the direction of our life or heal us of a wound. But God allows periods of darkness too. We need to accept them, and ask God how we might benefit from them. In addition, there are three things we can do when we experience darkness.
First, we need to realize that everyone has them. They’re a normal and expected part of our following in the footsteps of Jesus. They’re an opportunity for us to ask ourselves: Do we really love God? Or do we just love what he might so for us or the way he makes us feel? Love like that, if we can call it love, is pretty selfish, if you think about it. It makes God into our servant. God can use darkness, however, to help us to love him for who he is, not what he can do.
Second, it’s important in times of darkness to persevere in faith, to keep putting one foot in front of the other- to keep praying, to keep receiving the sacraments. This is all part of the test. Woody Allen once said that 80 percent of life is just showing up. There’s a sense in which we can say that a huge part of holiness is just showing up- by keeping on when we don’t feel much like keeping on. Consider Mother Teresa. Her letters published after her death reveal that she spent most of her life in spiritual darkness. For over half a century she felt no presence of God whatsoever-either in prayer or in Communion. But she persevered, and came to appreciate the meaning, and purpose, of her darkness.
Third, Jesus wants us to remember our mountaintop experiences when we’re in the midst of darkness. He allowed Peter, James, and John to see him transfigured, so the memory of this event could strengthen them during the dark days that followed, when he suffered his Passion. He wants our mountaintop experiences to strengthen us in the same way.
Even if we’ve never had what we might call a mountaintop experience, there is something we can all remember during our dark periods. Something that Jesus commands us to remember. “Do this in remembrance of me.” He’s talking about the Mass, at which we remember, and encounter ourselves, Jesus death on the cross. Even in our darkest moments, the memory of Jesus’ darkness, can give us hope to carry on.
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