Big crowds gathered around Jesus in today’s gospel. As it always was with our Lord, admission was free. Anyone and everyone could come! And apparently they did. The two people in that crowd whom we specifically meet could not have been more different, given the time and place in which they lived.
On the one hand there was the ruler of a local synagogue. In most people’s eyes, he would have been considered to be one of the most important people in town. You’ll note that he’s mentioned in the gospel by name: Jairus. People knew exactly who he was and what he did.
On the other hand, there was the woman with the hemorrhage. We’re not told her name. Nobody knew it; she simply wasn’t important enough. For starters, she was a woman, which in that culture didn’t count for too much. Second, no husband of hers is mentioned. She must have been either single or a widow, which meant that she would have counted even less! And then there was her flow of blood. Surely it must have been a painful condition. But her pain was doubled by the fact that according to Jewish law, she was considered “ritually unclean.” People, including family and friends, would have had to keep her at arm’s length.
These two people were at opposite ends of the cultural spectrum: One was king of the hill; the other was at the bottom of the totem pole. One felt bold enough to approach Jesus directly; the other felt she had to sneak up behind him in secret. For Jairus, people would have stepped aside; for the woman, people would have turned away.
Yet these two did have something very important in common: they were desperate, and they turned to Jesus for help. Both recognized a need for something they came to appreciate only Jesus could give. The synagogue ruler came because he was scared- scared that his daughter would die. The woman came because she was broke; she had no other options left.
Two very different people. But Jesus treated them in exactly the same way: with respect, kindness, and generosity. Consider the words that Jesus spoke to them: “Go in peace.” “Be cured.” “Do not be afraid.” And he spoke to both of them about faith. He informed the woman that it was her faith that had saved her; he encouraged Jairus by saying “Just have faith.” Evidently he did, and his daughter was healed.
This raises a very important point. Twice in this gospel a connection is made between faith and healing. Sometimes, however, we can misunderstand this. We conclude that if we believe something deeply enough- if our faith is strong enough- then Jesus will give us what we want or what we’re asking for. Seen this way, faith is nothing more than a tool to manipulate God: If I can muster up sufficient faith, then God has to grant my wish.
This is not how Jesus wants us to understand faith. Imagine you’re like Jairus, and have a sick child. You have faith, or at least you’re trying your best to hold on to faith during a very difficult and scary time. You pray for a miraculous healing. But then, tragically, your child dies. What conclusion do you make then? That you didn’t have enough faith? How terrible! Not only do you now need to mourn your child’s death; you also have no one else to blame for it but yourself. On top of this, you imagine that God is disappointed in you. Which leaves you feeling depressed, angry, and afraid.
But is this what today’s gospel is teaching us? Is this what our Lord wants us to take away from Mass today? No. Jesus does want us to have faith; the words he spoke to Jairus and the woman he also speaks to us! But not simply: have faith and you’ll always be healed. Instead, when Jesus says for us to have faith, he means for us to have faith in him. Not in a particular outcome; not that he’ll make happen what we want to happen. But faith in him. His love. His presence. His goodness. That he keeps his promises. That he wants us to be with him forever.
But who is this Jesus in whom we’re to have faith? If you’re not sure, look closely at the portrait today’s gospel paints for us. It’s a Jesus who cares for everyone. Who doesn’t make a distinction between rich and poor, men and women, those with power and those without. We don’t need money or influence or good health to gain his access. This Jesus is one who speaks with kindness to those who are scared or hurting; who makes sure a little girl gets a snack after she recovers from her illness.
Is this the kind of person- the kind of God- we can put our trust in? It’s tempting to imagine that God is one who looks down on us all the time. It’s hard to trust God when we think of him that way. Obedience, yes; respect, yes; but trust, maybe not. It’s true that God is God and we are not. But does that mean God looks down on us? Consider today’s second reading carefully. As Paul takes care to explain, it’s not so much that God looks down on us. It’s more that God comes down to us. He came down to us as Jesus, which Paul describes beautifully as a “gracious act.” Jesus comes to be with us. To be one of us. To share our joys. To share our pain. To give us hope. Jesus was rich but became poor so we might be rich- not rich in terms of worldy wealth, but rich in the good things of God.
There’s no need for us to approach Jesus like the woman did, with “fear and trembling.” As Jesus said to Jairus, he says also to us: “Do not be afraid; just have faith.”
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Friday, June 19, 2009
Ordinary 12
For years, I’ve wondered how Jesus could have remained asleep on a cushion in the back of the boat while a violent storm raged all around him, the air filled with the sounds of howling wind, crashing waves, and screaming disciples. I knew that Jesus was tired, but c’mon- there’s no way anyone could sleep through all that!
Perhaps, however, Jesus’ having slept through the storm is rather significant. Jesus’ resting is a contrast to everyone else’s panic, and is meant to be an example for us. Today’s gospel story is often interpreted as meaning, “If you have faith, Jesus will calm the storms in your life.” Which in itself is a true statement. But in this story, the disciples did not have faith. They freaked out, were convinced that Jesus didn’t care, and annoyed that he was sleeping while they thought they were going to die. Archbishop Anthony Bloom sums up the disciples’ attitude very well when he writes, “And then they turn to Christ and do what we very often do with God: We look at God in time of stress and tragedy, and we are indignant that he is so peaceful.”
Nevertheless, Jesus stilled the storm. He did so for three reasons. First, to show that he did indeed care. Second, to teach the disciples that there was no need for them to panic. And third, to convince the disciples of their need of faith. Today’s gospel challenges us to embrace these same three lessons. Jesus always loves us, we need to have faith in him, and there are many things we just shouldn’t panic about.
So often we get frustrated with our circumstances or particular situations and then get angry with the Lord. Like the disciples, we say things to him like: “How come you aren’t paying attention? Are you sleeping? Don’t you see how important this is? Aren’t you concerned about my well-being and happiness?” Yet if we listen for his response, we might just hear Jesus say: “I know you’re scared. I know you’re frustrated. I know you’re angry. But there’s no need to be terrified. There’s no point to your worry and your anger. Have faith, and be at peace.”
What things do we worry about? What makes us panic? What do we fear losing? I encourage you to spend some time this week trying to answer those questions. It’s a good exercise, because it will identify our addictions and unmask our idols. And once we’ve done that, God can help us break the addictions, and smash the idols by giving us the faith we need.
Faith helps us to have a proper perspective on things. It helps us to see the world as God wants us to see the world. With faith, we come to realize that things we used to worry about, or get upset over, or were afraid of, weren’t worth all the effort and energy we wasted on them. Let me give you one example. People sometimes share with me that they’ve been impatient- be it with their spouse, their children, their relatives, their coworkers, or even themselves. They’ve blown their tops, lost their cool, and had knots in their stomach. After I listen to them I’ll ask, “Would you call yourself a perfectionist?” And often, with a sigh and a note of resignation in their voice, they’ll admit that they are. I’ll point out to them that perfectionists place unrealistic expectations upon themselves and others. And when imperfect people in their lives fail to be perfect, they get angry and frustrated. Both of which is unfair and unnecessary.
With faith, however, we can come to treat the people in our lives as God wants them to be treated: With respect, patience, empathy, and the understanding that we’re all a “work in progress,” this side of heaven. This doesn’t mean that we can’t challenge them to become all God made them to be. Love demands that we do this! But love also demands that we do it without unnecessary frustration and anger.
We can get frustrated and angry about all sorts of things we don’t need to. For instance, in our superficial, impatient, and materialistic culture, we want the things we want, and we want them now. It might be a getting certain job, achieving a higher standard of living, acquiring an improved body image, finding a new relationship, starting a family, or getting into what we think is the “right” college. We convince ourselves that we won’t be happy unless we have these things. And if we don’t get them, we feel panicked, mad, or both. We think we’re being cheated. We even get angry with God. Like the disciples in the gospel, we can conclude that he just doesn’t care.
But God does care. It’s just that he doesn’t always see things the way we do. That’s why we need faith. With faith, we can purify our perspectives, priorities, and expectations. With faith, we remember that while God always gives us what we need, he doesn’t always give us what we want. With faith, we can be grateful for what we have instead of frustrated over what we don’t. With faith, we can be happy in the present instead of thinking that we’ll only be happy in a future that may never come. With faith, we understand that everything happens for a reason. With faith, we’re assured that God is always with us, surrounding us with love, giving us the grace to do what he wants us to do. With faith, we’ll know the peace that only Jesus can give.
Like he was with the disciples, Jesus is always in the same boat with us. He wants us to share his peace when storms rage around us, especially if we’re created the storm ourselves. Jesus’ words to the wind and the rain: “Quiet! Be still!” are also words he speaks to us. And as he does, he invites us to replace our self-wounding frustration, with life-giving faith.
Perhaps, however, Jesus’ having slept through the storm is rather significant. Jesus’ resting is a contrast to everyone else’s panic, and is meant to be an example for us. Today’s gospel story is often interpreted as meaning, “If you have faith, Jesus will calm the storms in your life.” Which in itself is a true statement. But in this story, the disciples did not have faith. They freaked out, were convinced that Jesus didn’t care, and annoyed that he was sleeping while they thought they were going to die. Archbishop Anthony Bloom sums up the disciples’ attitude very well when he writes, “And then they turn to Christ and do what we very often do with God: We look at God in time of stress and tragedy, and we are indignant that he is so peaceful.”
Nevertheless, Jesus stilled the storm. He did so for three reasons. First, to show that he did indeed care. Second, to teach the disciples that there was no need for them to panic. And third, to convince the disciples of their need of faith. Today’s gospel challenges us to embrace these same three lessons. Jesus always loves us, we need to have faith in him, and there are many things we just shouldn’t panic about.
So often we get frustrated with our circumstances or particular situations and then get angry with the Lord. Like the disciples, we say things to him like: “How come you aren’t paying attention? Are you sleeping? Don’t you see how important this is? Aren’t you concerned about my well-being and happiness?” Yet if we listen for his response, we might just hear Jesus say: “I know you’re scared. I know you’re frustrated. I know you’re angry. But there’s no need to be terrified. There’s no point to your worry and your anger. Have faith, and be at peace.”
What things do we worry about? What makes us panic? What do we fear losing? I encourage you to spend some time this week trying to answer those questions. It’s a good exercise, because it will identify our addictions and unmask our idols. And once we’ve done that, God can help us break the addictions, and smash the idols by giving us the faith we need.
Faith helps us to have a proper perspective on things. It helps us to see the world as God wants us to see the world. With faith, we come to realize that things we used to worry about, or get upset over, or were afraid of, weren’t worth all the effort and energy we wasted on them. Let me give you one example. People sometimes share with me that they’ve been impatient- be it with their spouse, their children, their relatives, their coworkers, or even themselves. They’ve blown their tops, lost their cool, and had knots in their stomach. After I listen to them I’ll ask, “Would you call yourself a perfectionist?” And often, with a sigh and a note of resignation in their voice, they’ll admit that they are. I’ll point out to them that perfectionists place unrealistic expectations upon themselves and others. And when imperfect people in their lives fail to be perfect, they get angry and frustrated. Both of which is unfair and unnecessary.
With faith, however, we can come to treat the people in our lives as God wants them to be treated: With respect, patience, empathy, and the understanding that we’re all a “work in progress,” this side of heaven. This doesn’t mean that we can’t challenge them to become all God made them to be. Love demands that we do this! But love also demands that we do it without unnecessary frustration and anger.
We can get frustrated and angry about all sorts of things we don’t need to. For instance, in our superficial, impatient, and materialistic culture, we want the things we want, and we want them now. It might be a getting certain job, achieving a higher standard of living, acquiring an improved body image, finding a new relationship, starting a family, or getting into what we think is the “right” college. We convince ourselves that we won’t be happy unless we have these things. And if we don’t get them, we feel panicked, mad, or both. We think we’re being cheated. We even get angry with God. Like the disciples in the gospel, we can conclude that he just doesn’t care.
But God does care. It’s just that he doesn’t always see things the way we do. That’s why we need faith. With faith, we can purify our perspectives, priorities, and expectations. With faith, we remember that while God always gives us what we need, he doesn’t always give us what we want. With faith, we can be grateful for what we have instead of frustrated over what we don’t. With faith, we can be happy in the present instead of thinking that we’ll only be happy in a future that may never come. With faith, we understand that everything happens for a reason. With faith, we’re assured that God is always with us, surrounding us with love, giving us the grace to do what he wants us to do. With faith, we’ll know the peace that only Jesus can give.
Like he was with the disciples, Jesus is always in the same boat with us. He wants us to share his peace when storms rage around us, especially if we’re created the storm ourselves. Jesus’ words to the wind and the rain: “Quiet! Be still!” are also words he speaks to us. And as he does, he invites us to replace our self-wounding frustration, with life-giving faith.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Corpus Christi
Do you have tokens which remind you of the love that others have for you? Family pictures in your workplace? A box of old letters? Maybe a picture one of your children made for you, or a home-made gift? Or what about a souvenir from a special day with a special someone?
I’ll let you in on a professional secret: I know of more than one priest who keeps “thank you” notes that have been sent to him over the years, and pulls them out to read after a rough day, when he could use a little affirmation- a reminder that he’s loved and appreciated.
We all like to be reminded that we’re loved. Loved by other people. Loved by God. Jesus knows that. That’s one reason why he instituted the Holy Eucharist, the sacrament we give thanks for in a special way today, the Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ, traditionally known as “Corpus Christi.”
The Eucharist is many things, and has layers of meaning. But at a very basic, fundamental level, the Eucharist is a reminder- perhaps the supreme reminder- of the love that Jesus has for us. At the Last Supper, Jesus took bread, broke it, gave it to his disciples and said, “Do this in memory of me.” He said the very same words again over the cup of wine. Evidently, he wants us to remember.
Radio personality Garrison Keillor, in his “Prairie Home Companion,” tells a joke about a stereotypically reserved Norwegian farmer who loved his wife so much that he almost told her once. The truth is that people need to tell those they love how much they love them. Recently I attended the Funeral Mass for a deacon. A fellow deacon gave the eulogy, and he shared how he and the departed had developed a deep friendship over the years, starting when he was a teenager, when the deceased deacon, who had been older, served as a mentor in a youth club. Both of these individuals were masculine, married, full-blooded, even tough, African-American men. Which is why it came as something of a shock when the deacon giving the eulogy shared that, near the end of the deceased deacon’s life, they would end their conversations by saying to each other, “I love you, man.” I could sense that this touched many people in the congregation. It touched me.
Saying “I love you” can be so important in a relationship. That’s why marriage experts encourage spouses to tell each other “I love you” every day. That’s why parenting experts advise parents to tell their kids “I love you” every day. And that’s why Jesus, through the Eucharist, says “I love you” to us, at every Mass.
Sometimes, when I’m standing at the altar celebrating Mass, and I’m holding the Body of Christ in my hands, or am gazing into the chalice filled with the Precious Blood, and I speak those words of Jesus- “This is my body, given up for you; this is my blood, shed for you”- I can be overwhelmed by the magnitude of what Jesus did for me, and I’m reminded of how much he loves me. I’m also reminded of how much I need to be reminded!
Each one of us needs to be reminded of Jesus' love, because we can so easily forget, for so many reasons. Sometimes it’s because of the busyness of life. We’ve got too many things going on. We get distracted. We can get stressed out, and it seems like we have to use all our energy just to keep our heads above water. Jesus fades into the background. Out of sight, out of mind.
At other times it’s the pleasures of life that lead us to forget. Our pleasures make us content and comfortable. Life is smooth sailing, the world is our oyster. Because we seem to be in control, we forget about our need for God. And, we forget about his love.
The pains of life can also make us forget. The pain can become all we think about; the world looks bleak indeed. God may not be forgotten at times like this, as we may be wondering why God’s not taking away our pain! But we can certainly doubt his love. We forget that it’s always there.
But then we come to the Eucharist. We recall Jesus’ sacrifice for our forgiveness. We recall his resurrection which gives us hope. And we receive Jesus himself. “This is my body, this is my blood.” Those aren’t empty words. We truly receive Jesus by grace. We’re filled, in a very real way, with his love. And we remember. Once again.
Yet the Eucharist doesn’t simply remind us of God love for us. It also reminds us of God’s love for others, and how God wants us to love them too. Remember Jesus words in the gospel? “This is my blood shed for the many.” Not just for me. Not just for you. For the many. Jesus’ love is boundless! He loves everyone. As should we! But how easily we can forget that.
Think of it this way: At Communion, the host is presented to us with the words: “The Body of Christ.” We say “Amen” and receive Jesus into ourselves. But what is that Body? It most certainly is Jesus. But are not we also the Body of Christ, the Church? That means that when we receive Holy Communion, we don’t just receive Jesus. In a certain sense, we also receive each other.
We receive those in our families, those in the pew next to us, pews across town, and pews halfway around the world. People who may be hungry. People who may be afraid. People we may disagree with. People we may have hurt. People who, in some way or another, may need a reminder of our love for them.
Jesus, in this Eucharist, reminds us of his love for us. Let’s not forget, that we’re to share that love, with everyone.
I’ll let you in on a professional secret: I know of more than one priest who keeps “thank you” notes that have been sent to him over the years, and pulls them out to read after a rough day, when he could use a little affirmation- a reminder that he’s loved and appreciated.
We all like to be reminded that we’re loved. Loved by other people. Loved by God. Jesus knows that. That’s one reason why he instituted the Holy Eucharist, the sacrament we give thanks for in a special way today, the Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ, traditionally known as “Corpus Christi.”
The Eucharist is many things, and has layers of meaning. But at a very basic, fundamental level, the Eucharist is a reminder- perhaps the supreme reminder- of the love that Jesus has for us. At the Last Supper, Jesus took bread, broke it, gave it to his disciples and said, “Do this in memory of me.” He said the very same words again over the cup of wine. Evidently, he wants us to remember.
Radio personality Garrison Keillor, in his “Prairie Home Companion,” tells a joke about a stereotypically reserved Norwegian farmer who loved his wife so much that he almost told her once. The truth is that people need to tell those they love how much they love them. Recently I attended the Funeral Mass for a deacon. A fellow deacon gave the eulogy, and he shared how he and the departed had developed a deep friendship over the years, starting when he was a teenager, when the deceased deacon, who had been older, served as a mentor in a youth club. Both of these individuals were masculine, married, full-blooded, even tough, African-American men. Which is why it came as something of a shock when the deacon giving the eulogy shared that, near the end of the deceased deacon’s life, they would end their conversations by saying to each other, “I love you, man.” I could sense that this touched many people in the congregation. It touched me.
Saying “I love you” can be so important in a relationship. That’s why marriage experts encourage spouses to tell each other “I love you” every day. That’s why parenting experts advise parents to tell their kids “I love you” every day. And that’s why Jesus, through the Eucharist, says “I love you” to us, at every Mass.
Sometimes, when I’m standing at the altar celebrating Mass, and I’m holding the Body of Christ in my hands, or am gazing into the chalice filled with the Precious Blood, and I speak those words of Jesus- “This is my body, given up for you; this is my blood, shed for you”- I can be overwhelmed by the magnitude of what Jesus did for me, and I’m reminded of how much he loves me. I’m also reminded of how much I need to be reminded!
Each one of us needs to be reminded of Jesus' love, because we can so easily forget, for so many reasons. Sometimes it’s because of the busyness of life. We’ve got too many things going on. We get distracted. We can get stressed out, and it seems like we have to use all our energy just to keep our heads above water. Jesus fades into the background. Out of sight, out of mind.
At other times it’s the pleasures of life that lead us to forget. Our pleasures make us content and comfortable. Life is smooth sailing, the world is our oyster. Because we seem to be in control, we forget about our need for God. And, we forget about his love.
The pains of life can also make us forget. The pain can become all we think about; the world looks bleak indeed. God may not be forgotten at times like this, as we may be wondering why God’s not taking away our pain! But we can certainly doubt his love. We forget that it’s always there.
But then we come to the Eucharist. We recall Jesus’ sacrifice for our forgiveness. We recall his resurrection which gives us hope. And we receive Jesus himself. “This is my body, this is my blood.” Those aren’t empty words. We truly receive Jesus by grace. We’re filled, in a very real way, with his love. And we remember. Once again.
Yet the Eucharist doesn’t simply remind us of God love for us. It also reminds us of God’s love for others, and how God wants us to love them too. Remember Jesus words in the gospel? “This is my blood shed for the many.” Not just for me. Not just for you. For the many. Jesus’ love is boundless! He loves everyone. As should we! But how easily we can forget that.
Think of it this way: At Communion, the host is presented to us with the words: “The Body of Christ.” We say “Amen” and receive Jesus into ourselves. But what is that Body? It most certainly is Jesus. But are not we also the Body of Christ, the Church? That means that when we receive Holy Communion, we don’t just receive Jesus. In a certain sense, we also receive each other.
We receive those in our families, those in the pew next to us, pews across town, and pews halfway around the world. People who may be hungry. People who may be afraid. People we may disagree with. People we may have hurt. People who, in some way or another, may need a reminder of our love for them.
Jesus, in this Eucharist, reminds us of his love for us. Let’s not forget, that we’re to share that love, with everyone.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Trinity Sunday
Have you ever wondered what heaven will be like? People sometimes ask if there are dogs in heaven, and I happen to think there will be. Sometimes people wonder what we’ll do in heaven. As one bumper sticker proclaims: “If there’s no golf in heaven, I’m not going!” And it’s not unheard of for parents to assure their children that thunder is simply the sound of God bowling in heaven. I can’t say for sure if there is golf or bowling in heaven. But if there is, I promise you that there will be no golf widows, and nobody will bowl alone.
I say this because “Bowling Alone” is the title of a recent book from a Harvard professor which speaks about our society’s increasing fragmentation, and how we’ve become more and more disconnected from each other. Over the past 25 years we’ve experienced a huge drop in the number of people participating in clubs and other organizations, having friends over, and attending family dinners. We have seen an increase in the number of people who bowl. But they don’t bowl in leagues. Increasingly, we bowl alone.
But in heaven, nobody will have to bowl alone. Why? Because God is a Trinity. Now, if I lost you just there, bear with me. Understanding the Trinity is critically important. It’s easy for us to dismiss the Trinity as a mystery of faith we accept simply because we’re Catholics. But it’s essential that we understand the Trinity, because it will help us understand ourselves, and appreciate why there is no solitary bowling in heaven.
We became Christians when we were baptized- as Jesus’ instructed in today’s gospel- “in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” Because of this, as St. Paul explained in our second reading, we received the Holy Spirit into our hearts, making us children of God with Jesus our brother, who call upon God the Father as Abba, or “Dad.” Through baptism, we are united with all three persons of the Trinity in such a way that we share in the very life of God. And God’s life is a sharing of love between three Persons: Father, Son, Holy Spirit. You and I have been created in the image of the Trinity. This means that you and I were made to share love. And this can only be done in community. With others. Never alone.
It’s true that as Christians we believe in one God, not three. But we believe in one God in three Persons, so perfectly united by love that they are indeed one. This is important. Because if God were ONLY one, then we might understand God as being lonely. Which could mean that you and I, as God creation, might simply be an expression of God’s neediness, God’s boredom, God’s loneliness. We might be nothing more than God’s distraction, or God’s hobby. If God is alone, it would mean that you and I would have been created to be alone too. To be lonely as God is lonely. To bowl alone.
But God is not simply one. He is three-in-one. A community of persons united in love. Therefore, there’s no chance that we’re merely expressions of God’s neediness. Instead, we’re an expression of God’s love. Perfect love, which God is, is giving, generous, overflowing. It can’t contain itself. You and I might understand ourselves, then, as an overflowing of God’s love. And since we’re made in God’s image, we can say that we’re both created by overflowing love, and created for overflowing love. Which makes our existence both a gift, and a possibility- a possibility to give and receive love the way God does: a perfect love without conditions, without limits.
Sometimes, however, encountering such love in this life can remain only a possibility. We may experience love, but it is far from perfect. What we thought was love ends up not really being love at all. We’ve wound up being hurt, abandoned, used, left behind. We’ve confused physical intimacy with love. Friends and family may have turned their backs on us when the going got rough, or because they were looking for greener pastures. We may not have wanted to bowl alone. But we wound up doing so anyway.
When this happens, we can be understandably angry. It’s as if we’re being cheated out of something we were meant to have. We say: “This isn’t fair! This isn’t the way it should be!” And we’d be absolutely right. Because we’ve been made for something much better than this.
Now, it may be that we are deeply blessed by the love of others in this life; hopefully others are blessed by our love too. But any and all human love, this side of the veil, is always imperfect, however good it may be. It’s only in heaven that we will experience love in all its fullness, in all its perfection. The brokenness we experience here, will be healed and restored there. In heaven, we will finally be able to love, and be loved, the way God intended us to. The way he created us to do. The way God the Holy Trinity does. In this life we often say, “You always hurt the ones you love.” But in heaven, we’ll finally be able to say, “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.”
While we wait and hope and pray for such love, it’s important that we keep trying to love as best we can, and be grateful for the love we receive. We can’t give up, retreat into ourselves, or get stuck in cynicism. We need to keep reaching out, keep trying, keep forgiving. We need to have realistic expectations about our relationships with others, all the while trying to grow in our relationship with God, as we set our sights on heaven.
So what will heaven be like? Will there be dogs? I wouldn’t be surprised. Golf and bowling? Perhaps. But bowling alone? Not a chance.
I say this because “Bowling Alone” is the title of a recent book from a Harvard professor which speaks about our society’s increasing fragmentation, and how we’ve become more and more disconnected from each other. Over the past 25 years we’ve experienced a huge drop in the number of people participating in clubs and other organizations, having friends over, and attending family dinners. We have seen an increase in the number of people who bowl. But they don’t bowl in leagues. Increasingly, we bowl alone.
But in heaven, nobody will have to bowl alone. Why? Because God is a Trinity. Now, if I lost you just there, bear with me. Understanding the Trinity is critically important. It’s easy for us to dismiss the Trinity as a mystery of faith we accept simply because we’re Catholics. But it’s essential that we understand the Trinity, because it will help us understand ourselves, and appreciate why there is no solitary bowling in heaven.
We became Christians when we were baptized- as Jesus’ instructed in today’s gospel- “in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” Because of this, as St. Paul explained in our second reading, we received the Holy Spirit into our hearts, making us children of God with Jesus our brother, who call upon God the Father as Abba, or “Dad.” Through baptism, we are united with all three persons of the Trinity in such a way that we share in the very life of God. And God’s life is a sharing of love between three Persons: Father, Son, Holy Spirit. You and I have been created in the image of the Trinity. This means that you and I were made to share love. And this can only be done in community. With others. Never alone.
It’s true that as Christians we believe in one God, not three. But we believe in one God in three Persons, so perfectly united by love that they are indeed one. This is important. Because if God were ONLY one, then we might understand God as being lonely. Which could mean that you and I, as God creation, might simply be an expression of God’s neediness, God’s boredom, God’s loneliness. We might be nothing more than God’s distraction, or God’s hobby. If God is alone, it would mean that you and I would have been created to be alone too. To be lonely as God is lonely. To bowl alone.
But God is not simply one. He is three-in-one. A community of persons united in love. Therefore, there’s no chance that we’re merely expressions of God’s neediness. Instead, we’re an expression of God’s love. Perfect love, which God is, is giving, generous, overflowing. It can’t contain itself. You and I might understand ourselves, then, as an overflowing of God’s love. And since we’re made in God’s image, we can say that we’re both created by overflowing love, and created for overflowing love. Which makes our existence both a gift, and a possibility- a possibility to give and receive love the way God does: a perfect love without conditions, without limits.
Sometimes, however, encountering such love in this life can remain only a possibility. We may experience love, but it is far from perfect. What we thought was love ends up not really being love at all. We’ve wound up being hurt, abandoned, used, left behind. We’ve confused physical intimacy with love. Friends and family may have turned their backs on us when the going got rough, or because they were looking for greener pastures. We may not have wanted to bowl alone. But we wound up doing so anyway.
When this happens, we can be understandably angry. It’s as if we’re being cheated out of something we were meant to have. We say: “This isn’t fair! This isn’t the way it should be!” And we’d be absolutely right. Because we’ve been made for something much better than this.
Now, it may be that we are deeply blessed by the love of others in this life; hopefully others are blessed by our love too. But any and all human love, this side of the veil, is always imperfect, however good it may be. It’s only in heaven that we will experience love in all its fullness, in all its perfection. The brokenness we experience here, will be healed and restored there. In heaven, we will finally be able to love, and be loved, the way God intended us to. The way he created us to do. The way God the Holy Trinity does. In this life we often say, “You always hurt the ones you love.” But in heaven, we’ll finally be able to say, “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.”
While we wait and hope and pray for such love, it’s important that we keep trying to love as best we can, and be grateful for the love we receive. We can’t give up, retreat into ourselves, or get stuck in cynicism. We need to keep reaching out, keep trying, keep forgiving. We need to have realistic expectations about our relationships with others, all the while trying to grow in our relationship with God, as we set our sights on heaven.
So what will heaven be like? Will there be dogs? I wouldn’t be surprised. Golf and bowling? Perhaps. But bowling alone? Not a chance.
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