Seventy Times Seven

Matthew 18: 21 – 22

            Then Peter came and said to him, “Lord, how often shall my brother sin against me and I forgive him? Up to seven times?” Jesus said to him, “I do not say to you, up to seven times, but up to seventy times seven.”

                                                                        *

            Jesus says that when someone hurts us we must forgive that someone seventy times seven times. By using the image, Jesus is really saying that there is to be no limits or strings to our forgiving someone and allowing them back into our heart. In 1956, Dag Hammarskjold, who was then Secretary General of the U.N., commenting on the meaning of this kind of forgiveness said, “Forgiveness is the answer to a child’s dream of a miracle by which what is broken is made whole again, what is soiled is again made clean.”

            Jesus is telling us through Peter that the greatest gift we can give to another person, and to ourselves, is the gift of forgiveness. Forgiveness is the act of letting go of the past and accepting someone back into our heart; of extending our hand and allowing ourselves once more to be vulnerable to another. When Jesus tells  Peter  that we  must forgive  someone  seventy times seven times, he is really telling us that we must forgive unconditionally; that there can be no bounds, no strings, no limits to the amount of times we let someone back into our heart.

            To genuinely forgive someone in the way that Jesus speaks about we must be willing to accept the reality that a person’s faults and personality quirks will probably not disappear overnight. Jesus asks us to forgive even when the person who hurt us is not sorry; or even when we know that despite someone’s sincere apology, they are likely to hurt us again. He asks us to look into the eyes of someone who has hurt us deeply and to show that someone love and acceptance instead of anger and rejection. It is a great gift of unconditional love when we once again open ourselves to trust someone who has really hurt us and let us down.

The kind of forgiveness Jesus asks us to give as a gift to another is really a gift to ourselves as well. It frees us to admit to ourselves that we do not have the knowledge or the wisdom to sit as judge, jury and executioner over someone who has hurt us. To forgive seventy times seven times is a choice that God gives us. We choose life, and love and a relationship for ourselves and for others when we choose to forgive.  We relieve ourselves of the burden of carrying around hurt, pain and anger. And we give someone else the freedom to live his or her life — or maybe to rest in peace — with the knowledge that they are loved without strings.

            When we forgive, we are not only offering unconditional love but we are taking responsibility for our own lives. We no longer sit and wait for someone else to change for us to be happy; instead we choose to change our own reaction. By so doing, we are opening the door for true healing to occur — healing within ourselves; healing within another; and healing of a relationship.

            An example of this kind of healing is in the story of a young man named Kevin who was a colleague of mine several years ago. Kevin shared with me how he had hated his father. He told me that all he had ever wanted was for his dad to hold him, say he loved him and tell him that he was proud of his accomplishments. But Kevin’s dad was never able to show him this kind of affection.

            In high school, if Kevin brought home a B+ average, his father belittled him for not getting an A. In college Kevin didn’t graduate high enough in his class. When Kevin fell in love and married outside of his religion, his father stopped speaking to him and forbade him to visit. Eventually Kevin’s hurt became so heavy that he had a breakdown and was hospitalized for a while with depression.

            But little by little, Kevin’s spirit began to heal as he found the gift of forgiveness and freely gave it away without strings. Kevin learned to accept himself for not being the person his father had wanted him to be. Once he did that, he was able to forgive his father and to accept him for the person he was without expecting him to change.

            One day I was having lunch with Kevin and he smiled and told me that he had been in his dad’s arms 28 times over the past few months. When I asked if his dad had finally started hugging him, Kevin said, ‘no.’ He told me that he had started hugging his father and had learned that it doesn’t really matter who starts a hug.

            Kevin had come to a point of healing and wholeness. He had come to forgive without strings; and in so doing was making the connection with his dad that he so very much had wanted for many years.

            Kevin’s story represents what Jesus speaks about when he tells us to forgive seventy times seven times. Jesus tells us to plant our own garden instead of sitting around and waiting for someone else to send us flowers.

            This kind of unconditional forgiveness is its own reward. It is the answer to a child’s dream of a miracle — a miracle by which what is broken is made whole again, and what is soiled is again made clean.

……………………………………………………………………………………..

Readers of this blog might enjoy these books by Deacon Lex. Both are available on Amazon.com:

Just to Follow My Friend: Experiencing God’s Presence in Everyday Life

Synchronicity as the Work of the Holy Spirit: Jungian Insights for Spiritual Direction and Pastoral Ministry

Never Too Late To Go Home

Matthew 20: 1 - 16

            Jesus said, “For the kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire laborers for his vineyard. When he had agreed with the laborers for a denarius for the day, he sent them into his vineyard. And he went out about the third hour and saw others standing idle in the market place; and to those he said, ‘You also go into the vineyard, and whatever is right I will give you.’ And so they went. Again he went out about the sixth and the ninth hour, and did the same thing. And about the eleventh hour he went out and found others standing around; and he said to them, ‘Why have you been standing here idle all day long?’ They said to him, ‘Because no one hired us.’ He said to them, ‘You go into the vineyard too.’ When evening came, the owner of the vineyard said to his foreman, ‘Call the laborers and pay them their wages, beginning with the last group to the first.’ When those hired about the eleventh hour came, each one received a denarius. When those hired first came, they thought that they would receive more; but each of them also received a denarius. When they received it, they grumbled at the landowner, saying, ‘These last men have worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden and the scorching heat of the day.’ But he answered and said to one of them, ‘Friend, I am doing you no wrong; did you not agree with me for a denarius? Take what is yours and go, but I wish to give to this last man the same as to you. Is it not lawful for me to do what I wish with what is my own? Or is your eye envious because I am generous?’ So the last shall be first, and the first last.”

                                                                        *

If God really loves us unconditionally, then Hell should be an empty place. But if God is truly just, then everyone should ultimately get what’s coming to him or her. So which is it?

            God’s love and forgiveness for us has no limits — it’s unconditional. He loves us when we do good, and when we do ‘not so good’. He loves the kind and the mean, the generous and the stingy, the saint and the bigot. Jesus calls us to love and forgive others as God loves us — without strings.

            The above Gospel is a parable about God’s generosity and how much he really does love us; how he never shuts off that love, never gives up on us; how he patiently stands in the wings as we go through the hours of our life journey, waiting for the moment when we realize he’s out there — the moment that we turn to him and love him in return; how, with God, it’s never too late. But this Gospel is one of those tough Gospels, like the one about the prodigal son, or about forgiving your neighbor 70 times seven times.

            If we tend to be self righteous, it can offend our sense of fairness and justice. How does the worker who punched in five minutes before closing get the same pay as the one who labored all day long? How does the son who squandered away his father’s money merit a welcome home party while the son who added to his father’s wealth is out working and sweating in the field? How does the thief who was crucified next to Jesus get promised a one-way ticket to paradise after living a life of crime?

              The underlying question here is: how can God be both the just God revealed by Moses in the Old Testament, and at the same time the unconditionally loving and forgiving God revealed by Jesus in these parables? This dichotomy is the mystery of redemption.

            Jesus is telling us that God’s justice is not our justice. He is using these parables to teach us a great lesson: that God accepts us back from wherever we’ve been; that he never gives up on us; that with God, it’s never too late to go home.

            If there really is a geographical place called Hell, I think it must be hard to get there. A person would have to know and feel in the depths of his or her being how very much they were loved by God, and then choose to turn their back and walk away from that love for all eternity. I can’t imagine too many people doing that.

            God passionately pursues us through the hours of our lives. He waits and waits for the moment that we recognize his love and choose to love him in return.

            Maybe if we don’t get it right during the work day (the time that we are alive), God meets us at the moment of our death — five minutes before closing, so to speak — and makes us one more offer to still turn to him — an offer we can’t refuse.

Maybe heaven is filled with the kinds of people with whom we wouldn’t want to associate. Perhaps when we sit down to our first meal in heaven, we will be stunned to see who else is around the table.

Perhaps God’s mercy and generosity extends even beyond the tax collectors and the prostitutes, to the bigots, the drug dealers and the worse villains in history. Wouldn’t that be a shocker!  It would even be worse than seeing those last minute workers in the vineyard getting a full day’s pay. But even God couldn’t possibly be that loving, that forgiving, that merciful — or could he? And could he really expect you and me to be?

            There is a movie I saw several years ago that deals with this mystery, the mystery of redemption, in a powerful way. It’s called The Bad Lieutenant and it stars Harvey Keitel in the title role. Though the message of this film is forgiveness and redemption, it contains language and scenes that could be offensive. So, I caution the reader that both the edited R version and the uncut NC-17 version must be viewed with discretion.

            Harvey Keitel plays this depraved New York City police Lieutenant. He’s on the take; uses and sells the drugs he confiscates on the street; cheats on his wife; and abuses the teenage girls he stops for traffic violations — all in all, a thoroughly corrupt and decadent person. He’s a heavy gambler, and into the loan sharks for $120,000 for bets he lost on the World Series. The first hour of the film is used to develop his character as a truly unredeemable human being.

            Eventually he is called in to investigate a brutal crime: a young nun is viciously beaten and raped by two teenage hoodlums while she prays alone in church. He presses the nun to reveal the identity of the teenagers, but she will not do so. She knows them well from the local high school, but has only compassion for them, for the poverty and hopelessness in which they were raised. She unconditionally forgives and prays for them, and refuses to assist in their arrest.

            It is through this horrible crime that the bad lieutenant finds redemption.  Moved by the unconditional love and forgiveness exhibited by the nun, and facing death himself at the hands of the loan sharks whom he has no money to pay, he drinks himself into a stupor and passes out alone in the church.

            When he awakes, and reality sets in, he breaks down weeping on the floor in front of the altar. It is here that he encounters Christ, and begs for forgiveness for the bad things he’s done in his life. He is comforted by Jesus, and unconditionally forgiven. He is redeemed; and through his redemption he is able to understand and to forgive the teenagers.

            Redemption, like so much of the reality of God, is a mystery. But it’s God’s mystery, not ours.

How can God be both loving and just? The answer is that he doesn’t have to be. Love is of God; justice is of the world. If we loved each other the way God calls us to, there would be no need for justice. And if we could feel in the depths of our being, how totally and unconditionally God loves us, there would be no need for anyone to ask for our forgiveness.

            In the above Gospel, Jesus gives us some really good news — with God, it’s never too late to go home.

……………………………………………………………………………………..

Readers of this blog might enjoy these books by Deacon Lex. Both are available on Amazon.com:

Just to Follow My Friend: Experiencing God’s Presence in Everyday Life

Synchronicity as the Work of the Holy Spirit: Jungian Insights for Spiritual Direction and Pastoral Ministry

Been to Cana

John 2: 1 – 3, 5 - 11

            On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there; and both Jesus and his disciples were invited to the wedding. When the wine ran out, the mother of Jesus said to him, “They have no wine.” . . . His mother said to the servants, “Whatever he says to you, do it.” Now there were six stone waterpots set there for the Jewish custom of purification . . . Jesus said to them, “Fill the waterpots with water.” So they filled them up to the brim. And he said to them, “Draw some out now and take it to the headwaiter.” So they took it to him. When the headwaiter tasted the water which had become wine . . . (he) called the bridegroom, and said to him, “Every man serves the good wine first, and when the people have drunk freely, then he serves the poorer wine; but you have kept the good wine until now.” This beginning of his signs Jesus did in Cana of Galilee.

                                                                        *

            Once we’ve been to Cana, once we’ve tasted the wine, once we’ve danced with Jesus, we are never the same again.

            There’s a wonderful sequence of scenes in Martin Scorsese’s film, The Last Temptation of Christ. It’s the wedding feast at Cana. The headwaiter is pointing to the jars, shaking his head at Jesus, and insisting that it’s only water. Jesus is smiling and telling him to go and taste it. The waiter finally does and yells over to Jesus, “You’re right! It is wine!” Jesus raises his cup and playfully salutes the waiter. In the next scene Jesus is dancing joyfully with the other guests. He is singing and laughing and clapping his hands in the air.

            This is the Jesus that I know: a Jesus who is not only with us in our pain and sorrow, but who longs to celebrate each moment of our life with us; who dances with us joyfully and playfully; a Jesus who dances with me — the real me that exists now; not with some idealized me-that-I-should-be, but with me with all my blemishes and imperfections; all my failures and my shame. All he asks of me is that I step into the dance.

            Once we step into the dance with Jesus, we are never the same again. Dancing with Jesus changes us forever: it transforms us — sort of like changing water into wine. It doesn’t matter to Jesus how well we dance, or if we keep stepping on his toes. He’s just happy that we’ve come to the dance; that we keep trying; that we never give up no matter how many times we fall flat on our backs.           

            I recently read a short story that speaks about this dance in a very moving way. It is by the Japanese Catholic novelist Shusaku Endo. The story is entitled The Final Martyrs and it is set in 17^th Century Japan during the persecution of Japanese Christians. The Shogun had declared it a capital offense for a Japanese to practice Christianity.

            At first hundreds of people were crucified, burned at the stake, broiled on wooden gridirons or thrown alive into sulfur pits. As the persecution wore on and countless Japanese martyrs held to their faith, the government became more and more enraged and sadistic. It tried to make Christians deny their faith by the cruelest of tortures, and those who renounced Jesus publicly were allowed to go free.

            Endo’s story is about a group of young adult Christian men who have known each other since childhood. They belong to a village that has secretly practiced Christianity for more than 100 years. One member of the group is named Kisuke. As a child he was big, awkward and accident-prone. Being ridiculed often, Kisuke reached adulthood with no self-esteem. As they grew up secretly practicing their faith, the other young men often predicted that if they were ever caught by the government and tortured, Kisuke would quickly renounce his faith and betray Jesus.

            The government learns about the village from an informer and it is raided and burnt to the ground. Kisuke and his friends are arrested and confined to a tiny cell to await torture. His friends remain steadfast in their faith and urge Kisuke to pray to Jesus and Mary for strength. But listening to the screams of those being tortured becomes too much for Kisuke. Before his turn comes, he cries to the guards that he is ready to renounce his faith. He leaves the cell in shame never able to look back upon his friends. The other young men are tortured brutally but no one renounces his faith.

            For the next two years they are moved around Japan from prison to prison. One by one they begin to die until only two remain. After witnessing so much suffering, their faith has weakened and they are close to despair. And then one day they see a tall awkward figure being led to their cell — it is Kisuke.

            After he is shoved into their cell by the guards, his friends ask him how he ended up being brought back for torture after having renounced his faith. Kisuke tells them how he wandered around Japan for two years filled with shame for betraying Jesus. Until one night he could no longer bear it. He stood alone weeping on a desolate beach preparing to end his life. He cried out to the ocean: “Oh, if only I had been born a different person. If only I could have been strong and brave like my friends instead of the worthless coward that I am.”

            From behind him, Kisuke heard a whispering voice. It was the voice of Jesus: “It’s alright, Kisuke. I understand. Just go back to be with the others. Even if the fear and the torture are too much for you to bear and you have to betray me again, it’s alright. Just go back to be with the others.”

            And Kisuke did go back. His friends’ faith was renewed by Kisuke’s story along with their love for him. As his turn comes to be led to torture, his friends tell him, “It’s alright, Kisuke. Even if you have to betray him again, the Lord Jesus is happy. He is happy that you just came back.”                       

            There have been many times in my life when I felt like Kisuke standing on that beach. When I looked at my life and reflected on the times that I have betrayed Jesus; the times I have failed to love others; to be present to the people that God has entrusted to my care. But it is at those painful times of self-revelation that I can hear Jesus whispering to me, asking me to dance.

            He asks that I empty myself like one of those stone waterpots at Cana; that I let go of all the old wine that fills my mind; that I join in the dance with him and let the process of transformation unfold over time — his time not mine; that I understand that the miracle of Jesus is not immediate perfection but rather a lifelong process of tripping on the dance floor and getting right back up again.

            Like Kisuke was filled with shame and self-doubt, we sometimes hear a voice in our own mind that keeps putting us down; that tries hard to make us stop dancing by telling us that we are not good enough, that we are filled with blemishes, that we are worthless — a voice that keeps trying to change Jesus’ wine back into water. But we know that voice is lying. You see, we’ve been to Cana; we’ve tasted the wine; we’ve danced with Jesus — we will never be the same again.           

……………………………………………………………………………………..

Readers of this blog might enjoy these books by Deacon Lex. Both are available on Amazon.com:

Just to Follow My Friend: Experiencing God’s Presence in Everyday Life

Synchronicity as the Work of the Holy Spirit: Jungian Insights for Spiritual Direction and Pastoral Ministry

Out On A Limb

Luke 19: 2 - 10

            There was a man called Zaccheus; he was a chief tax collector and he was very rich. Zaccheus was trying to see who Jesus was, but was unable to because of the crowd, for he was small in stature. So he ran on ahead and climbed up into a sycamore tree in order to see him, for Jesus was about to pass through that way. When Jesus came to the place, he looked up and said to him, “Zaccheus, hurry and come down, for today I must stay at your house.” And he hurried and came down and received him gladly. When the people in the crowd saw it, they all began to grumble, saying, “He has gone to be the guest of a man who is a sinner.”

                                                                        *

I love hearing this Gospel story. It always makes me smile. I can see the actor Danny DeVito playing the part of Zaccheus, jumping up and down in the crowd, like a pogo stick, trying to catch a glimpse of Jesus. Suddenly a light bulb goes off in his head and he scurries up a tree and out on a limb to see the teacher whom the whole town is talking about: Jesus the miracle worker.

            The Gospel tells us that Zaccheus was short in stature, ‘vertically challenged’ as we would say today with more political correctness. The Gospel also tells us that the people disliked him for being a tax collector; that they referred to him as a sinner. But rather than feeling sorry for himself, self-conscious and inadequate, Zaccheus finds a way. He goes out on a limb for Jesus.

            And then what happens? This man, who could have gone home feeling unloved and inadequate, pulls himself out on the limb only to find that Jesus has seen him first and is smiling at him and giving him the honor of being his host. “Zaccheus, hurry and come down, for today I must stay at your house.” This man who took a risk to catch just a glimpse of Jesus was filled with joy.            

            There may be some of us who long to welcome Jesus into our heart, into our home, but feel unworthy, inadequate; some who rather than turning outward toward Jesus, rather than going out on a limb, turn inward and fall into the pit of self-loathing and depression.

            Whenever we are tempted to do this, let’s remember that not only Zaccheus but most, if not all, of the great saints felt unworthy and inadequate at times. What made them saints was that they did not cave in and give up; they turned their thoughts away from themselves and outward to Jesus. And like Zaccheus, they found to their surprise that Jesus was just waiting for them to welcome him into their homes.

            None of us is inadequate. Each of us is adequate; each of us is enough – because each of us is a beloved child of God. We will miss out on the joy of locking eyes with Jesus if we hold ourselves back from taking a risk, if we decide to go home rather than out on a limb.           

……………………………………………………………………………………..

Readers of this blog might enjoy these books by Deacon Lex. Both are available on Amazon.com:

Just to Follow My Friend: Experiencing God’s Presence in Everyday Life

Synchronicity as the Work of the Holy Spirit: Jungian Insights for Spiritual Direction and Pastoral Ministry

Why Not?

Matthew 5:38 – 44

“You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.’  But I say to you, do not resist an evil person; but whoever slaps you on your right cheek, turn the other to him also . . . You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you . . .”

                                                                                  *

            No resistance. Turn the other cheek. Love your enemies.  I can almost hear Saint Peter’s shocked reaction, “Jesus, give me a break!”

            Was Jesus kidding? Was he just being idealistic or poetic? Did he not expect anyone to take him at his word? If the answer to these questions is ‘yes’, then Jesus might be remembered as a terrific 1^st century stand-up comic, or as a wise social philosopher — a sort of Jewish Confucius. But Jesus is neither of these; he is the human voice of God and I think he meant what he said.

            However, there’s more than one way to turn the other cheek.

            Turning the other cheek doesn’t have to mean accepting abuse, allowing ourselves or others be abused or victimized. Turning the other cheek can mean NOT turning away: forever bouncing back; living in a world filled with pain and suffering, greed and violence, yet never giving up on making it different, on building a world filled with love and goodness — a place that Jesus called the Kingdom.

            Robert Kennedy frequently quoted  from George Bernard Shaw, “Some see things as they are and ask, ‘why?’ I see things as they could be and ask, ‘why not?’” Jesus asks us to turn the other cheek; to forever bounce back; to be people of the ‘why not’ not the ‘why’; to look in the face of a troubled and hurt-filled world, and then to look into our own lives. He asks us to take inventory of the talents and skills that we possess, and to ask, ‘why not?’ And then to turn the other cheek, bounce back, and make a decision to use those talents and skills to reduce the pain and suffering. He asks us to be channels for God’s love and healing to enter into and to change the world.

            Mother Teresa was a 40-year-old teacher in an exclusive boarding school for the daughters of wealthy expatriates living in India. She saw and was touched by the suffering of the poor dying in the streets of Calcutta. She left the comfort of her life and began a ministry of loving and caring for the poorest of the poor, enabling them to die with dignity. She saw suffering, asked, ‘why not?’, turned the other cheek and bounced back.

            A homemaker and mother living in Bergen County was moved by the tragic statistics of abortion in the United States. She began taking unwed mothers into her home, and set up a network of resources to help young, pregnant women who felt that they had no alternative to abortion. She asked, ‘why not?’, turned the other cheek and bounced back.

            A very successful plastic surgeon, a friend whom I admire very much, was moved by the plight of children in third world countries who suffer deformities as well as poverty. He began organizing teams of doctors and nurses, and has made several trips to these countries performing corrective surgery in makeshift operating rooms on thousands of children. He asked, ‘why not?’, turned the other cheek and bounced back.

            A young man in Oregon, who had lost both legs in an accident, learned how to play basketball from a wheelchair. He reached out to handicapped, inner-city kids, and formed a basketball league giving them the gifts of athletics and self-esteem.

            All these people saw pain and suffering in the world and asked, ‘why not?’ Instead of turning away in despair, they turned the other cheek and bounced back. They decided to use their talents and skills to put God’s love and their own faith into action to change the world.

            Some days I read the papers or watch the news with horror — the  senseless  violence  and  cruelty  that  randomly   destroys innocent lives; the tragedies of racism, sexism, anti-Semitism, homophobia, war, abortion, AIDS, substance abuse. I am tempted to turn away in despair; to throw my fists up to heaven and scream, ‘WHY?’ — to blame God for allowing another tragedy.

            But then I remember Jesus, and the reality that God calls each of us by name, and asks us to be his human hands and feet in this world. And I ask myself, ‘WHY NOT?’

……………………………………………………………………………………..

Readers of this blog might enjoy these books by Deacon Lex. Both are available on Amazon.com:

Just to Follow My Friend: Experiencing God’s Presence in Everyday Life

Synchronicity as the Work of the Holy Spirit: Jungian Insights for Spiritual Direction and Pastoral Ministry

Blindness

John 9: 1, 6 – 34

             As Jesus passed by, he saw a man blind from birth . . . He spat on the ground, and made clay of the spittle, and applied the clay to his eyes, and said to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” (which is translated, ‘Sent’). So the man went away and washed, and came back seeing.

                                                                        *

            Knowing and seeing the truth can be hazardous to your lifestyle. It can lead to behavioral changes that maybe we’d rather not make. So sometimes we resist the opportunity to know; we pretend not to see; we try real hard not to understand, not to feel.
_____________________________________________________________________________

            Jesus’ curing of the blind man is a wonderful story. While it appeals to us on one level, it’s really calling us to action on another. In the story Jesus gives a precious gift. This man, who has never seen, opens his eyes for the very first time. The appeal is in the magic, the joy, the miracle that happens; but that’s not the end of it. Jesus brings this man out of the darkness and into the light for a purpose. He calls him forth and sends him into action: “Go wash in the pool of Siloam” (which means the one who has been sent).

            The man’s life gets very complicated from that point forward. No one is happy for him. For some reason society is threatened by him now. Everyone is hostile and using him as a reference point to attack Jesus. Even his parents distance themselves from him. As a blind beggar, at least he belonged; but now society chews him up and tries to spit him out. The more he stands up for Jesus, the more he is degraded and abused until finally he suffers bodily harm. The Gospel writer doesn’t tell us the man’s name. Perhaps he is meant to represent everyman, everywoman. Perhaps he is meant to be you and me.

            Where Jesus used spit and mud to give sight to the blind man, he uses the Gospel — handed down through the centuries — to give sight to us. But once we are brought into the light, our life too can get complicated, for the Gospel calls us to action.

            What exactly is it that we Christians are called to do? Jesus tells us in one special parable, the story of the Last Judgment. He tells us about the confusion among those people who are not being admitted into heaven: “Lord, when did we see you hungry and not offer you food; naked and not offer to clothe you? When were you lonely and we didn't spend time with you. When did we see you cry and not try to wipe away your tears?” The Lord answers: “I tell you, each time you neglected to do these things for the very least of your sisters and brothers, you neglected to do them for me.”

            What complications has Jesus’ gift of sight caused in our lives?

             Seeing as Christians in the light of the Gospel: how can we climb over the bodies of homeless people as we commute each day to work, and avoid seeing the face of Christ in each one of them? And once we do see, what do we do then?

            Seeing as Christians in the light of the Gospel: how can we fail to recognize Christ in the lonely and hurting eyes of the spouse we have neglected in our quest for self-fulfillment; the children who’ve grown up while we were out building our career or doing our thing; the relative or friend we haven’t spoken to for years over some incident we can’t even remember? And once we do see, what do we do then?

            Seeing as Christians in the light of the Gospel: how do we miss the Christ standing in the shadows who listens and watches with sadness as we buy into gossip; as we accept, by our silence, the racially or ethnically degrading joke, the anti-Semitic or homophobic remark? And once we do see, what do we do then?

            The answer to these questions is very personal and different for each one of us. But once we recognize conflict between our lifestyle and the Gospel, once we see Christ present in each of our sisters and brothers, we are called to make decisions, to act — to fail to do so is to pretend not to see. And everyone knows that, thanks to Jesus, we Christians can now see.

            If someday in our world being a Christian were to become a crime, let us hope that there would be enough evidence to convict each and every one of us, and to put us away for eternity.

……………………………………………………………………………………..

Readers of this blog might enjoy these books by Deacon Lex. Both are available on Amazon.com:

Just to Follow My Friend: Experiencing God’s Presence in Everyday Life

Synchronicity as the Work of the Holy Spirit: Jungian Insights for Spiritual Direction and Pastoral Ministry

Blessed Are We . . .

John 20:19 – 29
            Jesus came and stood in their midst . . . He showed them both his hands and his side . . . But Thomas, one of the twelve, called Didymus, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples were saying to him, “We have seen the Lord!” But he said to them, “Unless I see in his hands the imprint of the nails, and put my finger into the place of the nails, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.” . . . After eight days his disciples were again inside, and Thomas with them. Jesus came, the doors having been shut, and stood in their midst and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Reach here, Thomas, with your finger, and see my hands; and reach here your hand and put it into my side; and do not be unbelieving, but believing.” Thomas answered and said to him “My Lord and my God!”  Jesus said to him, “Because you have seen me, Thomas, you believe. Blessed are they who have not seen, and yet believe.”

                                                                                   *

            I heard someone once say that it was Jesus’ friends who came back to life at Easter; that it was Peter and John and Mary Magdalene and Thomas and the rest of his disciples who rose from the tomb of despair and doubt; that what God sent walking out of that empty tomb was the gift of faith — faith that doesn’t require proof to sustain it, faith that lives on 2,000 years later inside of you and me today.

            How many of us have ever hit rock bottom? Ever felt that there was no hope, that we couldn’t push ourselves any further, that we couldn’t face ourselves in the mirror?  How many have ever begged God to change a bad situation, or asked for a sign, some proof that he was really there, that everything would be okay?

Well that’s what’s happening to Thomas and the other disciples in the above Gospel. They are huddled together in fear in the back room of some house in Jerusalem, each one probably making plans to leave town and forget they ever knew each other or Jesus.

            Thomas is not only the star of this story, but I think, in a way, he represents us at different points in our lives. He’s been through a terrible experience. Not only has he lost Jesus but he is probably overcome with shame and guilt for having turned his back and run away when Jesus was arrested. He thinks that the only way things could be alright again would be for God to send him a sign, some proof, the chance to touch the wounds of Jesus. But just when he’s about to give up, he experiences the presence of Jesus within himself. And then something amazing happens: he no longer needs a miracle — he passes on the chance to touch the nail marks of Jesus. Nothing has changed, yet everything has changed — his faith is resurrected. In the end what brings Thomas’ faith back to life is not the proof that he thought he needed, but rather his personal experience of the Risen Christ.

            How many times have we been filled with doubt or anxiety and huddled in some back room like the disciples in this Gospel story? How many times have we faced grief or hurt or loss: perhaps the death of a loved one, or betrayal by a friend, or loss of a job, or maybe positive results from a biopsy? But what sets us apart as modern day disciples of Jesus is that little piece of Thomas that lives within each of us — that part of our soul that refuses to give in to despair; that part of our mind that no longer demands proof.

We are those blessed ones whom Jesus refers to in the Gospel: We are those who have not seen Jesus and yet still believe. We can look on as the Eucharist is elevated at the Consecration of the Mass and say with the same certainty as Thomas, “My Lord and My God!” And we can do this because over and over again, day after day, year after  year, no  matter how many  times we may hit  rock bottom, we experience Christ alive in  our hearts.

Blessed are we who have not seen and yet still believe!

……………………………………………………………………………………..

Readers of this blog might enjoy these books by Deacon Lex. Both are available on Amazon.com:

Just to Follow My Friend: Experiencing God’s Presence in Everyday Life

Synchronicity as the Work of the Holy Spirit: Jungian Insights for Spiritual Direction and Pastoral Ministry

Casting That First Stone

John 8: 3 – 11

            The scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman caught in adultery, and having set her down in the middle of the town square, they said to Jesus, “Teacher, this woman has been caught in adultery, in the very act. Now in the Law, Moses commanded us to stone such women; what then do you say?” They were saying this, testing him, so that they might have grounds for accusing him. Jesus stooped down and with his finger wrote on the ground. But when they persisted in asking him, he straightened up, and said to them, “He who is without sin among you, let him be the first to throw a stone at her.” Again he stooped down and wrote on the ground. When they heard it, they began to go away one by one, beginning with the older ones, and he was left alone, and the woman, where she was, in the middle of the square. Straightening up, Jesus said to her, “Woman, where have they gone? Did no one condemn you?” She said, “No one, Lord.” And Jesus said, “Neither do I condemn you. Go, and from now on sin no more.”

*

            God is not a man or a woman. God is not a Christian or a Jew or a Muslim or a Hindu or a Buddhist or a Taoist. God is love — pure unconditional love. When we experience unconditional love, we are in the presence of God. When we love someone unconditionally, God is acting through us.

            We try to represent God in words and pictures; in symbols and stained glass windows. But God cannot be framed in mental images. God cannot be described in human words. The only thing that we can know with certainty about God is what Saint John tells us in the Gospel: God is love, and he or she who abides in love, abides in God.

            The presence of God in our lives is not measured by how many Masses or church services we attend, or how many rosaries or devotions we pray, or how many hymns we sing.  It’s not dependent on the acts of religious piety we practice, or the politics we subscribe to. It’s not observable by the color of our skin, our religious affiliation, our place in society, our marital status, our finances, or our sexual orientation. The presence of God in our lives is dependent on one thing only — the presence of unconditional love in our hearts. Someone once asked Jesus what the greatest commandment is — what is the most important thing that we were called to do with our lives? His answer was very clear: “Love God with your whole heart and soul, and love your neighbor as yourself.”

            The people in today’s Gospel were very self-righteous and unloving. They saw themselves as judges and as God’s avenging agents. But Jesus very gently set them straight. He bent down and wrote with his finger in the dirt. One by one he looked into their eyes and wrote down each person’s private sins — their acts of meanness and selfishness. He showed them how far away from God they really were. And one by one they dropped their stones and slipped away with shame. Then Jesus lifted the frightened woman from the ground. He showed her unconditional love and she experienced the presence of God. She went away both forgiven and healed.           

Are there times when we are tempted to look down on others; to feel that we are morally superior or closer to God; to think that another person is unworthy to be in church, to receive Communion; times when our hands are raised to cast the stones of self-righteousness? Whenever we are so tempted, let us pause and feel Jesus’ finger writing gently on our hearts; reminding us of our own humanness; calling us to stop judging others; calling us to drop our stones; calling us to love and forgive others the way God loves and forgives us.

……………………………………………………………………………………..

Readers of this blog might enjoy these books by Deacon Lex. Both are available on Amazon.com:

Just to Follow My Friend: Experiencing God’s Presence in Everyday Life

Synchronicity as the Work of the Holy Spirit: Jungian Insights for Spiritual Direction and Pastoral Ministry

Lazarus and the Problem of Evil

John 11: 1 - 43

Now a certain man was sick, Lazarus of Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha . . . the sisters sent word to (Jesus), saying, “Lord, behold, he whom you love is sick.” . . . Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus . . . So when Jesus came, he found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb four days . . . when Mary came where Jesus was, she saw him, and fell at his feet, saying to him, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” . . . Jesus wept . . . he cried out with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come forth.”

                                                                                   *

            I had prayed every day for Daniel Pearl, the reporter for the Wall Street Journal who had been kidnapped in 2001 by terrorists in Pakistan; for his wife and his yet to be born baby.  When I heard the news that he had been brutally murdered and butchered, I felt like my own brother had been killed.  Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.

            A little girl named Danielle Van Damme was abducted in the 1990s from her bedroom and her body was found weeks later. Over 3,000 lives were stolen on September 11^th, 2001 and many thousands upon thousands of other lives and hearts were forever broken. Lord, if you had been here, my brothers and my sisters would not have died.

            Why does our all powerful, all loving God permit such evil to exist? God gives each of us real freedom to choose goodness over darkness. Some of his children choose the darkness and, as a result, bad things — terrible things — happen. The consequences of those bad things are for us a never ending nightmare. But in God’s reality they are only a nanosecond in time compared to the eternity that God has waiting for us.

            Look at the above Gospel: Lazarus lay dead for four days in a tomb. His sisters could not understand how their best friend Jesus, the miracle worker, could have let it happen. Lord, if you had been here my brother would not have died. Every minute of those four days was an eternity of suffering for Martha and Mary.  In the end Jesus brings Lazarus back to life; and those four days of horror become a distant, faded memory compared to the joy of being reunited.

            And that is how it will be for us. The four days in the tomb are like life here on earth. The pain felt by Martha and Mary is like the pain we experience in dealing with the presence of evil in our world. But in God’s eye all of it is temporary — like the four days that Lazarus lay dead in his tomb. There is so very much more that God has waiting for us.

            But God isn’t waiting backstage in the wings for us to run the gauntlet of life. He is here, present with us in the darkness, suffering with us in the face of unspeakable evil, weeping for us like he wept for Lazarus. And we know this is true when we look upon the cross.  In the center of the cross, in the center of suffering and evil, we find God in human form.

            With the cross, God is sending us an answer to the problem of evil. He is telling us that we are not alone, that he is with us through it all; and someday it will all make sense. And all the people we have lost in our lives, perhaps our parents, perhaps our   children; all those who have been so dear to us — all the Daniel Pearls, all the Danielle Van Dammes, all the victims of hatred and bigotry and war and terror will share with us in the joy of God’s presence for all eternity.

……………………………………………………………………………………..

Readers of this blog might enjoy these books by Deacon Lex. Both are available on Amazon.com:

Just to Follow My Friend: Experiencing God’s Presence in Everyday Life

Synchronicity as the Work of the Holy Spirit: Jungian Insights for Spiritual Direction and Pastoral Ministry