The Problem of Evil

Tuesday, June 7th, 2022

The Problem of Evil

When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up on the mountain . . . and began to teach them, saying . . . “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” Matthew 5:2

Deacon Lex Ferrauiola

I struggle with the ‘Problem of Evil’. That is the problem posed by the presence of the evil we witness in our world, and the question: “if God is really all powerful and all loving, and if God truly knows and loves each one of us by name, why does God allow evil and terrible things to happen?”

I mourned as I followed news of the unfolding Russian invasion of Ukraine, and learned about the vicious bombings of hospitals, residential neighborhoods and schools, and the summary executions of Ukrainian soldiers and civilians.  I mourned for the umpteenth time as I watched the breaking news and heard the cries of parents, friends and first responders after the shootings in Buffalo, Uvalde, and Tulsa — the list goes on and on. And yet Jesus tells us, “Blessed are they who mourn,” — we who mourn — for we shall be comforted.

These acts of human evil are not evidence that God does not exist, or that God fails to love us; nor are they proof that God is powerless to rescue us. Life is a mystery, like a tapestry that we cannot see fully while we are in its midst. But God is with us in that mystery; God walks with us through the presence of evil holding us by the hand as we mourn, leading us to Resurrection.

“Blessed are they who mourn,” — we who mourn — for we shall be comforted. Someday, someplace, somehow, it will all make sense.

But in the meantime, while we are here and continue to follow the news and witness the existence of evil in our world, the Cross, the symbol of our faith, is God’s answer to the problem of evil. In the center of the Cross, in the center of the pain and the suffering, we find God in human form. The message of the Cross is hope. It tells us that we are not alone, that God is with us in the center of the pain and the suffering; and someday it will all make sense, there will be a happy ending, a Resurrection.

The Cross is a sign that God is with us in our suffering and that death is not the end. When we read the Passion and hear Jesus’ cry, “My God, why have you forsaken me?” we know that he understands what we are going through; that he is our brother in the face of horrible evil. Our brother, our savior who takes us — the temporary prisoners of evil — through the sufferings of life, who leads us to the joy of Resurrection, to a place where everything will make sense and we will see God.

The Cross is our comfort and God’s answer to the problem of evil. Blessed are we who mourn, for we will be comforted.

With love, Deacon Lex

deaconlex@gmail.com

 

Miracles and the Man in the Water

Friday, March 18th, 2022

Miracles and the Man in the Water

If a homeless man appeared in Washington Square Park and claimed to be Son of God, what would be the greater proof: if he turned five stale bagels into 2000 nourishing meals, or if he so inspired people to share whatever they had that, for one night throughout New York City, no one went to bed hungry, no one fell asleep without shelter, no one cried from loneliness or despair?

Jesus was filled with love and unconditional acceptance of others. While he walked the hills and shores of Galilee, he called those around him to acts of love and selflessness. He brought out the best in others just by being in his presence.

In the Gospel story about the loaves and the fishes, Jesus worked a wonderful miracle. But what was that miracle? Was it an act of magic that awed the crowd and defied the laws of physical nature? Or was it an act of collective love that defied the laws of human nature?

Deacon Lex Ferrauiola

Was the real miracle in this story not the reproduction of food, but Jesus’ ability to get people in the crowd to share what little food they had; and the discovery that once they opened their hearts and their lunch baskets, there was more than enough food for everyone? Knowing what we do about human nature, the second possibility would be the greater miracle.

We all come into the world with a basic human tendency to be self-centered and selfish; to put our interests, needs and survival before the love of God and the needs of others; to turn inward rather than reach outward in love with God and with our neighbor.

While our human nature enables us to survive it can also be an obstacle to love. While we focus on ourselves, it is difficult for God’s unconditional love to flow through us and out into a troubled world.

While we focus on ourselves, it is hard to hear God calling to us in the song of a morning bird or the patter of a summer night’s rain; to see God in the eyes of our children, in the smile of our lover; in the companionship of a colleague or a co-worker.

While we focus on ourselves, it is difficult to hear the cries of the lonely, the desperation of the oppressed, and the hunger of the poor.

While we focus on ourselves, not only do we miss the chance to love and to reach out to others, but we run the risk of becoming so self-absorbed that we, like Narcissus, drown in our own reflection.

But while we all possess this basic human tendency to be self-centered, there is a light that shines within our souls that continuously calls us to break out of the prison of selfishness. This light is Christ present within every human being — whether we recognize this presence or not, whether we are Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu, Taoist, agnostic or atheist. And the Christ within calls each of us forth like Lazarus from the tomb, to emerge from our prison of self-centeredness with acts of service and heroic love for our sisters and brothers. Each time we answer, ‘yes’ to this call a miracle happens.

I have witnessed many miracles in my life. I have seen children and adults from our parish carry food and clothing into Central Park on freezing winter mornings to comfort the homeless. I have seen a frail young homeless woman, shivering in the snow, hand back a blanket and tell us about a man sleeping in a cardboard box on the next street who was sick and needed it more. I have seen college students spend their spring break building homes for the poor and tutoring inner city children. I have seen university administrators and faculty comforting the victims of tragedy. I have seen successful and powerful executives share their stories about struggling with addictions and mental illness to help encourage others who were locked in similar prisons.

These are the real miracles that Jesus brings about — not parlor magic but calling out the best in each of us; helping us to defy the laws of self-interest and survival to take care of others.

One of the most moving miracles that I ever heard of happened back in December of 1981 when an Air Florida jet tragically crashed into the Potomac River during an aborted takeoff from Washington DC. I remember reading this story in the New York Times and being moved to tears:

HERO OF 737 DISASTER VANISHED UNDER RIVER

An unidentified passenger helped others to safety before vanishing in the icy waters of the Potomac after the Air Florida crash here Wednesday. The passenger was bald, about 50 years old, one of half a dozen survivors clinging to wreckage bobbing in the river when the first rescue helicopter arrived. Life vests were dropped. The man passed them to the others. On two occasions he handed away a lifeline from the hovering helicopter that could have pulled him to safety. ‘That guy was amazing’ said a paramedic aboard the helicopter. ‘All I can tell you is I’ve never seen that kind of guts. It seemed like he decided that the women and the men who were bleeding needed to get out before him and even as he was going under, he stuck to his decision and helped them all get out. My partner and I were talking as we went back over’ continued the paramedic, ‘that even if he was under and we could see him we were going to get him out. Man, that was bravery.’ But there was no trace of the man whose identity could not be learned.

I have often wondered about that man in the water. Who was he? What was he? Was he a saint or a sinner before the crash? Loving husband or adulterer? Did he spend his time helping in soup kitchens or embezzling funds from clients? Did he go to church or temple or did he never pray?

Whoever and whatever he was before the crash, on that day in December he was called by God to perform a miracle and he said, ‘yes’.

My sisters and brothers let us thank God for miracles, for the loaves and the fishes, and for the man in the water.

With love, Deacon Lex

deaconlex@gmail.com

Lex Ferrauiola is a husband, father, grandfather and a Catholic deacon serving as a pastoral minister and hospital chaplain within the Archdiocese of Newark, New Jersey. His newest book, All Shall Be Well: Finding God Among the Pots and the Pans is available now.

$12.00 available at Amazon.com and through local booksellers (ISBN-13 979-8767368921)    

 

Transfigured into God’s Love

Monday, March 7th, 2022

Transfigured into God’s Love

Deacon Lex Ferrauiola

One of the first things I learned in Catholic school back in the Bronx was that I am made in the image and likeness of God. In my child-mind, I originally took this to mean that God had eyes, ears, a nose, and possibly wore glasses. But as I grew and matured in my faith, I came to understand that God is not a man or a woman or a collection of body parts. God is Love. And that to be in the image and likeness of God simply means to be like God: to be Love — pure unconditional Love.

The Gospel for the Second Sunday of Lent tells us how Jesus was transfigured and revealed to his friends as that pure unconditional Love. On that mountaintop, and for a moment in time, Jesus’ closest friends were able to see who he really was. And, by extension, to catch a glimpse of what each of us is ultimately called to be.

The word ‘transfiguration’ defines a spiritual process: a process by which someone or something undergoes a complete change of form or appearance into its most integrated, peaceful, and beautiful state. As Christians we are called into that process. Like base metal is transformed into gold by the process of alchemy, each of us is called to be transfigured, to be molded into a pattern revealed by Jesus.

Jesus reveals that pattern throughout the Gospels. He tells us that whatever we do for the least of others, we are doing for him. He calls us to love our neighbor, and then defines our neighbor to be everyone. He calls us to turn the other cheek, to forgive and love those who have hurt us. He invites us to sell our most precious possessions and to give to the poor. He urges us to trust that God will always take care of us; to be like the lilies of the field and the sparrows on the wing and not unduly worry about tomorrow.

There is no room in this pattern for anger or bitterness. There is no room for self-centeredness. God is Love. And each of us is called to be transfigured into that Love — just like Jesus was. Like a wave rises in the ocean only to return home into the sea, each of us is called to return home to God, the Source of all goodness and love.

Lent is a good time to reflect on where we are in that return journey. It is a good time for us to remember who we are and why we are here. We are called to be the image and likeness of God for each other. We are called to be transfigured — transfigured into God’s Love.

With love, Deacon Lex

deaconlex@gmail.com

 

This Moment

Tuesday, March 1st, 2022

This Moment

Deacon Lex Ferrauiola

A moment is all that is guaranteed to any one of us. And that moment is now — this moment. The past is gone, it lives on only in our memories. Our future here on earth may or may never happen.

Our life is a tapestry of moments sewn together in a pattern created over time. The treasures that we store up within our hearts shape this pattern day by day. In the end it could be a pattern that reflects the material possessions, credentials, and honors that we have accumulated. Or it could be a pattern that reflects acts of love — love of God and love of others.

Our lives could be demanded from us this day, this night. And if our soul were to be taken up by God, and if we were to stand side by side with him and look down at the tapestry of the life we have lived, what pattern, what treasures would we see?

We would see a pattern that reflects how well we loved God and treated others. Were we loving and caring, or bitter and angry? Were we kind and forgiving, or did we carry a grudge? Were we inclusive, non-judgmental, and accepting, or did we shut people out of our lives because they were different or didn’t measure up to our moral standards? Were there family members and friends whom we locked out of our hearts because of some real or imagined slight that we can’t even remember?

Each day, each moment of life that God gives us is precious. But in any one of those moments our earthly life can suddenly come to an end. If that moment were to come today, what unfinished business would we leave behind? Death leaves us no chance to say, ‘goodbye’; no chance to say, ‘I’m sorry’; no chance to say, ‘I forgive you.’

Let us not be overly concerned and anxious about material possessions, credentials, and honors. Rather, let us be rich in matters of love. Let us examine our lives and reach out with contrition where needed, and with forgiveness to those who have hurt us. Let us be instruments of healing in all the circles of our lives. Let us love and serve the Lord by loving and forgiving and serving each other.

A moment is all that is guaranteed to any one of us. And that moment is now.

With love, Deacon Lex

deaconlex@gmail.com

Synchronicity As the Work of the Holy Spirit

 

 

Universal Amnesia

Wednesday, February 16th, 2022

Universal Amnesia

In a few weeks we will begin the season of Lent. These 40 days are a gift that the Church gives us each year: a chance to remember who we really are, and where it is that we are going.

Deacon Lex Ferrauiola

Franciscan Father Richard Rohr shares a story about a young couple putting their newborn infant to bed for the night in the nursery. Their four-year-old son comes in and says to them, “I want to talk to the baby!” They answer him, “Yes, you can talk to him from now on.” But the boy is persistent, “Please, Mommy and Daddy, I want to talk to him now, and by myself.”

Surprised and curious, they let the young boy into the nursery and cup their ears to the door, wondering what he might be saying. This is what they heard their four-year old son say to his baby brother, “Quick, tell me where you came from. Quick, tell me who made you. I’m starting to forget!”

And so is it with each of us.

When God made you and me, God embraced each of us like a mother would bundle up a beloved child to go out into the cold for the very first time. And like a parent might slip a little identification note into a child’s pocket, just in case he or she should get lost, God put a little tiny piece of Godself inside of us. That little piece of God inside of you and me and every person who has ever lived is our immortal soul. And life is the journey of our soul back home to its loving Creator.

But something happens on that journey, usually around the age of seven, the age of reason. Like Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, we eat from the tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, and we become self-conscious. We get distracted by many kinds of fruit: the approval of others, the attraction of things, the desire for possessions, and the need for control.  And we start to forget. We lose touch with our soul and with God.

Father Rohr calls this condition ‘Universal Amnesia’. We have forgotten who we really are and where it is that we are going. Ash Wednesday and the season of Lent are meant to remind us that we are children of God on our journey home.

As followers of Jesus, we have the benefit of a map for that journey. That map is the Gospel. Jesus lays it out in detail in the Sermon on the Mount, the Beatitudes. And when the Pharisees asked him what they must do to gain eternal life, he summed it up for them and for us: “Love God with your whole heart and your whole mind and your whole soul, and love others — love others — as you love yourself.”

This Lent, as we sacrifice some little pleasures, some things we really enjoy, let us remember who we really are and where it is that we are going. Let us sit before Our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament and ponder how well we are following his map in the Gospel. And let us do this quickly before we, like that little four-year old boy, start to forget

 

Faith When Life Gets Us Wet

Monday, February 7th, 2022

When the disciples saw Jesus walking on the sea, they were terrified. But immediately Jesus spoke to them, saying, “Take courage, it is I; do not be afraid.” Peter yelled out to him, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” Jesus said, “Come on, Peter!” And Peter jumped out of the boat and walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But seeing and hearing the wind, he became frightened, and beginning to sink, he cried out, “Lord, save me!” Immediately Jesus stretched out his hand and took hold of him, and said to him, “Peter, you have such little faith, why did you doubt?” Matthew 14: 24 – 32

Deacon Lex Ferrauiola

I love Saint Peter. He was a man after my own heart. He was emotional, impulsive, and quick to panic. I can relate to that. Yet Peter was one of Jesus’ very best friends. Jesus trusted him so much that he left him in charge; and here we are, twenty centuries later, in Peter’s church.

But in his impulsive exuberance in today’s Gospel, Peter was expecting Jesus to make magic; to make it possible for him to defy the laws of physics — God’s laws of physics — and walk on water. And when that didn’t happen, he panicked and started to sink. Our Lord reached out his hand and pulled his friend to safety, “O, you of little faith, why did you doubt?”

Life is a gift, but it’s not easy. There are times when things happen around us and to us that can make us panic and even call us to despair:  a diagnosis or recurrence of cancer, betrayal by a friend or a spouse, loss of livelihood, death of a loved one, news of a suicide — the list goes on and on. And when these things happen, we get wet and, like Peter, we can start to sink. That’s when faith comes into play. Jesus never promised magic. He never promised Peter that he wouldn’t get wet; he never promised that life wouldn’t get us wet. He only promised that he would always be there to pull us safely home to God.

The Jesuit theologian Father John McMurray wrote that those who have an immature, religious faith believe something like this, “Fear not, trust in God, and the things you are afraid of won’t happen to you.” But those who possess a mature, enduring faith believe much more deeply, “Fear not, trust in God, and the things you are afraid of may happen to you, but you’ll get through them with God.”

Mature, enduring faith does not expect or wait for magic. It never gives up no matter how wet, how wounded life gets us. It trusts that no matter what happens, somehow, someway, somewhere, whether in this life or in the next, God will make us whole.

The bad things that happen in life are locked in a moment in time. While we are alive, we cannot see beyond that locked moment; but our immortal souls are timeless. And somewhere deep in our souls, beyond our fears, beyond our thoughts, our anxieties and grief, there is an intuitive knowledge that in the end God will make everything okay. If that weren’t true, we wouldn’t be writing and reading this blog today.

Let us pray that our faith will continue to mature and endure. And let us always know that Jesus is walking alongside us here in time, walking on the water, holding our hand, bringing us safely home.

With love, Deacon Lex

deaconlex@gmail.com

Lex Ferrauiola is a husband, father, grandfather and a Catholic deacon serving as a pastoral minister and hospital chaplain within the Archdiocese of Newark, New Jersey. His newest book, All Shall Be Well: Finding God Among the Pots and the Pans is available now.

$12.00 available at Amazon.com and through local booksellers (ISBN-13 979-8767368921)