The Love Up There and the Love Down Here

 I am not including the Gospel this week because it’s the very long reading of Christ’s Passion with which everyone is familiar.

Perhaps too familiar?

Sometimes it’s difficult to pay close attention to this Gospel as it’s being read on Passion Sunday and again when it’s read on Good Friday; it’s so long and everyone has heard it so often. It’s pretty easy for the mind to wander off in spite of all good intentions.

There are two short things I would like to draw your attention to and perhaps by lodging them in your mind, you will hear whatever you hear at Mass with a different frame of heart.

The first is something Jesus said to his disciples after the Last Supper when they had gone up to the Mount of Olives. It wasn’t very flattering. He said, “You will all become deserters.”  This was said to the ones who would carry on his mission and especially to Peter, the one who would be the Rock on which he would build his Church. In other words, he was telling them that they would let him down, betray him, fail him, be inadequate for the job and make the decision to be absent when he was most desperately in need of their presence, their support and their love.

He knew all this in his heart. He knew it without a shadow of a doubt. In all of history, before and after the crucifixion, there has never been such betrayal as when Jesus’ friends and brothers ran away and left him all alone to die. They abandoned him to face the terror and pain on his own.

Do you think that when Jesus was on the cross gasping out in pain, “Father, forgive them, they don’t know what they are doing,” he wasn’t just praying for forgiveness for the Roman soldiers who were taunting him and causing him such excruciating agony? Could he not have also been praying for the disciples who were not there, who were hiding in terror? He was suffering on that cross for the ones who had ultimately betrayed his love and he had never loved those disciples as much as he loved them while he was on that cross.

The disciples’ weakness, fear and poorness of heart and spirit which resulted in terrible failure, was not the end of the story. Not the end of the story. NOT THE END OF THE STORY.

How often do you stop at your failures, weaknesses and inadequacies and write the end of your story right there? If that was where Jesus had stopped in his love there would be no cross and no salvation. But he says, “That’s the end of the story only you can write but I’m the one who picks up the pen and keeps on writing in blood right through to the resurrection. I have won! I am now the True Author of your story.

The second incident I want to draw your attention to is nearer to the end of the reading: “There were some women looking on from a distance; among them were Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James the younger and Joses, and Salome. These used to follow him and provided for him when he was in Galilee; and there were many other women who had come up with him to Jerusalem.” In John’s gospel we read that Jesus’ mother, Mary, was there as was John himself.

The women did not desert Jesus nor did John who was the disciple closest to the heart of Jesus. I truly believe this is because the women and John understood Jesus’ teachings better and in more depth. They were not receiving his message with just the intellect; they understood the heart language of his message. When we believe in the Lord with just our intellect, we understand and agree to the rules. When we believe with the heart, we become submerged in the rivers of his compassion, forgiveness and mercy. Our intellect is needed for assent, but it’s our heart that leads us to fall deeply in love with Jesus.

John and the women who stayed at the cross didn’t just intellectually agree with Jesus’ message; they had fallen completely in love with him. They loved him like a son, a brother, a best friend, a teacher and a savior before they even knew what salvation was. He was their Beloved Lord before the other disciples understood what a fullness of relationship with Jesus meant. John and the women were probably terribly afraid as they stayed near the cross but their love and their grief were stronger – stronger even than death. To know how they felt, put your child, your husband, your best friend, your mother or father or your favorite brother or sister up on that cross and imagine if you could see yourself running away, even if you were afraid. 

Don’t think that Jesus did not catch the significance of the presence of those who stayed with him. The Father had sent True Love to stay with him in his hardest hours. Perhaps the presence of his mother and John as well as the other women was what gave him the grace to say, “Father forgive them, they know not what they do. Forgive the ones who ran away and left me. They don’t know me yet so they don’t know whom it is they have betrayed. Blessed are the ones who are with me. Thank you for their love and their presence. Thank you…”

As Jesus gave up his life, John and the women were beautiful signs to him that he was cherished and not alone. He had not been completely abandoned. They were the ones who intuitively understood how far Love would go to rescue the lost. It is said that at the end of John’s life the only thing he could say to the people was, “Little children, love one another.” He knew that love, not intellect or even a harsh death, was the saving power of Jesus. It all came down to love. It all comes down to love.

During the readings of the Passion this Sunday and on Good Friday, even if you lose concentration at times, be there as one of the women who stayed with him in his final hours. Be there as John. Grieve with them. Weep with them. Ache with them.

Be there…and be blessed by his gratitude.

Take A Good Look At Yourself

 John 12: 20 - 33

Among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks. They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and said to him, ‘Sir, we wish to see Jesus.’ Philip went and told Andrew; then Andrew and Philip went and told Jesus. Jesus answered them, ‘The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.

Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor.

‘Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say—“Father, save me from this hour”? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name.’

Then a voice came from heaven, ‘I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.’

The crowd standing there heard it and said that it was thunder. Others said, ‘An angel has spoken to him.’ Jesus answered, ‘This voice has come for your sake, not for mine. Now is the judgment of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.’ He said this to indicate the kind of death he was to die.

In this passage, Jesus says, “Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.”  It’s always a shock to the spiritual system when Jesus uses the word ‘hate’ as he does a few times in the gospels. I wanted to know what he really meant by ‘hate’ so I looked up the Aramaic word for it. Turns out that there are several and the one that makes the most sense in the context of Jesus’ teachings is the word “sna”. You can pronounce that however you want as, funnily enough, I don’t speak Aramaic. Sna means, “To put to one side or set aside.”

“Those who hold on to their life lose it and those who set their own life to one side will gain eternal life.” Now that sounds more like the Jesus I know.

Lent is a good time to assess the state of your spiritual life but very often there is a common assumption that this kind of assessment means that what you’ll find are a lot of areas where you’ve fallen down on the job and maybe have become a bit lax. I contend that many people fail to appreciate where they have succeeded beautifully and they fail to discover the things they do that epitomize holiness. This kind of discovery and appreciation should not lead a person to say, “I’m fine. I don’t need to grow anymore.” It should lead a person to understand that there is much in their life that is worthy of being offered to the Father as gift and as holy sacrifice.

Few people see the holiness of what they do and go through on a daily basis.  Perhaps this is because all good people do what they do. But why would that diminish recognition of the holiness of their actions? Perhaps it’s a misconception of what holiness means. Holiness means, “Set aside for God – consecrated to God.” (Sna’d for God?) For example, most Catholic parents are serious about their faith and about raising their children to know and love God. How much more consecrated can one be? Holiness, as it pertains to us, doesn’t mean perfect. Think of a chipped and blemished clay cup. If a priest takes that cup, blesses it and sets it aside to hold the blood of Christ at the Eucharist, that cup becomes holy – intended for a special purpose. It is its special purpose that makes it holy, not its state of perfection. So parents following their vocation have a consecrated purpose. In order to fulfill that purpose, they sna, or set to one side, many things that might lead to self-fulfillment and self-satisfaction.

If you spent years at university studying for a career, you gave up numerous pleasures and desires to do so. If you go to work daily in order to house, feed and clothe a family, that means other personal desires and dreams have been set aside. If you and your spouse have brought children into the world, you made a commitment to set aside your life for sake of your children. Those are just a very few examples among many.

It is hard to ascribe holiness to a life that’s full of pressure, schedules and deadlines or to a life that’s immersed in dirty diapers, mounds of laundry, endless meals and chaotic noise. There is a romantic idea of a holy life, a term that brings to mind glowing saints praying and contemplating in lonely cells. Yes, Religious give up much to answer the call to their vocation - but so do you. It is time we all started seeing marriage and raising a family as a holy vocation equal to that of the Religious vocation. It is time we began to respect deeply the single working mother or father. It is time we stood in awe of those who have never married and have led a life dedicated to the Lord while living in a hard world and supporting themselves. We need to honor the couples with no children who often seem to end up in nurturing roles, welcoming various lost souls into theirs hearts and homes. There is no hierarchy of holiness in the Kingdom. Every person who sacrifices, every person who sets to one side their own self satisfaction and every person who struggles with growth, prayer and following the will of God is one who is enveloped in a holy life. The life of a Religious has different struggles, but certainly not better ones or harder ones.

I have to tell you that I am often overcome by a sense of holy respect when I hear of a mother working through a round of sickness in her children while being sick herself or when I see a busy student refusing to miss Mass and offering time to something like St. Vincent de Paul in spite of deadlines and looming exams. When I observe someone who has worked at a job for years and would love to retire but still needs to bring in money to provide for the family, I see a saint in the making. I see retired people giving of their time and resources to work in the church or volunteering to help their own adult children or assist those less able. I see holy grains of wheat falling to the ground and dying. I see lives and personal desires being set aside. I see it all the time – and so does the Lord.

Holiness abounds in the people of God and I am blessed to witness it. I am so full of gratitude sometimes for what people have set aside in order to bring life to others and in order to make sure the Lord is a part of their lives. When I witness this holiness I turn to the Father and I say, “Look at that, Father. Isn’t that beautiful?” and he says to me, “It fills my heart. I know what they have given up for me and I love them for it.” 

The two Greeks said to Philip, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” If those two men came to me today and said the same thing, I would reply, “Look at the ones who follow him without having seen him. Look for the sacrificing mothers and fathers who who go to the cross daily for their families. Look for the committed ones without partners, young and old, who follow with the single purpose of knowing his will. Look for the busy ones, the weary ones and the pressured ones who still take time to worship and have set aside their own dreams in order to follow God’s dream. Look for these people and you will find holiness. You will find Jesus.” 

“And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.” This week, ponder on what you have set aside in your dreams and desires in order to follow Christ and your vocation. Bring these things to the Cross and know that he has drawn you to himself.

Blessed are you. Holy are you.

The Reply

The Gospel this week is John 3: 14-21 where Jesus speaks with Nicodemus.
Last July, I posted a reflection titled “The Letter” which was a fictional letter from Joseph of Arimathea to Nicodemus. This is the reply:

Dear Joseph,

I have to admit that when you wrote exhorting me to go see Jesus of Nazareth, everything inside me rebelled at the thought. I was deeply concerned for you and for your standing within the temple if it ever became known that you had been won over by the Nazarene. I was also angry that you would encourage me to follow the same path of utter folly.

You have heard by now that this Jesus came to the temple and drove the moneychangers and the sellers of sacrificial animals out of the temple courts. The people were terrified because he was acting like a madman. When Annas, Caiaphas and the rest of us who were in the temple came running out to see what the commotion was, we saw Jesus, whip in hand, in the center of great confusion. When he saw us, he cried out,

“My Father’s house is a house of prayer!”

Then he looked directly at me, Joseph, and it was as if my heart was cut open and he could see everything within it. Everything. I looked around at the dust, the milling animals and the chaos of scattered coins and overturned booths and my eyes suddenly saw the jagged ugliness of something we have taken for granted for years. I looked at Annas and Caiaphas and was shocked at what I could see in their eyes. It wasn’t just anger, Joseph, it was hideous frustrated lust. Suddenly I knew, just from the look in their eyes, that the profits of the moneychangers and sacrificial animals weren’t going for the upkeep of the temple. Caiaphas and Annas were lining their pockets with the money of the poor. Money that was meant for G_d was being used to keep them in luxury. My disgust was overwhelming.

It came to me then, Joseph, that I had to see this Jesus. I had to talk to him. I had no idea what I would say or what I would ask. I just had a burning desire to speak with him one on one.

I’m not a courageous man. I found out where he was staying and I went in the dead of night, the hood of my cloak over my head so no one would recognize me. If Annas, especially, knew what was in my mind I shudder to think what he would do. He is a hard man but I didn’t realize how evil he is until that moment on the temple steps.

When I got to the place where Jesus was staying, it was dark and quiet within and I didn’t know what to do. Had I thought about the lateness of the hour? No, I hadn’t. All I had thought about was seeing him without being seen. I stood on the street thinking I should just head back home but my heart was pounding and the desire to see him was too much to ignore. What to do? Wake him up? Wake them all up?

Then I heard a quiet voice coming from above me, “Peace be with you, Nicodemus. I’ve been waiting for you.”

I looked up and there he was, relaxed and leaning over the parapet of the roof. “The family has gone to sleep,” he said.  “Come up the outer steps and join me, brother. You’d better hurry before someone sees you.” I couldn’t clearly see his face but his voice told me he was smiling at my furtiveness.

I quickly went up to the roof and when I got there he was sitting at a small wooden table. On the table were a loaf of bread, a jar of wine and two cups. He really was expecting me, Joseph! He indicated the other cushion and invited me to sit with him.

“Eat and drink, Nicodemus. I know you are hungry and your thirst is great,” he said softly as he broke the bread and poured the wine.  “Ask what you have come to ask.”

We talked for hours, Joseph. Too much was said to write in one letter and much of it was bewildering. However, the words that confused me the most were ‘born again’. I had no idea what he meant so I challenged him but he said, “‘Very truly, I tell you, we speak of what we know and testify to what we have seen; yet you do not receive our testimony. If I have told you about earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you about heavenly things?”

When he said that, I wondered whom he was talking about. He said we speak and we testify. Who did he mean by ‘we’? I was about to ask him when the light changed. I know it was night, Joseph, but I swear, the light changed. Or it appeared. Or it was always there but I never noticed it until then. At that moment light was all around us and standing just behind Jesus were two Beings. If I had to describe them, I’d say one was like Wind and one was like Fire but they were much more than that and words are inadequate to describe them. I had to drop to my knees from the force of the overpowering love that was surrounding the three of them. I began to weep. I wept with tearing grief, absolute joy and for the sheer beauty and authority of that love. I knew never wanted to be without it again.

Then Jesus stood and the two Beings stood beside him, one on either side. I still don’t know if Jesus could see them but his own face was like lightening and his eyes were like flames as he delved deep into my heart again. It was as if he was purging it with fire. It hurt so bad but felt so right. He didn’t seem to be speaking aloud but his voice filled my spirit, “For God so loved the world, Nicodemus, that he gave his only begotten Son so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.”  When he said that, the love flowing between the three became so intense I could hardly bear it.

“Lord! You are my Lord!” I cried through my tears. “I will openly follow you wherever you go. Everyone can know that you are my master. Let me never hide from the truth again! Let me be with you always, Jesus.”

He pulled me to my feet and when I wiped my eyes on my sleeve the light was gone. It was just an ordinary rooftop in the middle of the night. He put his hand on my shoulder and said, “No, Nicodemus, now is not the time to come with me. Go back to the temple. I know that isn’t where you want to be now because you have seen that some people have loved darkness rather than light because their deeds are evil. Those who do evil can’t stand me, brother. They hate my light and are deeply afraid their deeds will be exposed and the people will see them for who they really are.

   Go back to the temple, Nicodemus. It is still the house of my Father even though there are some who have perverted his truth and live to serve themselves. Serve me there. Let the people see there is goodness in the midst of evil. Be a servant of the light you have seen here and a voice of righteousness in the darkness. There will come a time when I will have great need of you – both you and Joseph of Arimathea.  Tell Joseph you have spoken to me and that I said a time will come when you will both give me shelter and a place to rest my weary head.

   The sun will be rising soon. You’d better go quickly, my brother.” As I turned reluctantly to go, he stopped me, laid his hands on my head and said, “My courage and grace goes with you. I will always be with you. We will always be with you.”

And now, Joseph, it is without any qualms, with great humility and utter joy that I say to you: you were right. The Sun has risen in our midst. The Light has come and we knew it not. You and I are blessed beyond all telling. I look forward to the time when you and I will be able to give him shelter. I wonder when that will be?

Peace be to you and your house, my brother. May his light continue to fill you and illuminate your path. I greatly look forward to our next meeting as brothers of the Son of G_d.

Your servant in him, (or in them!)

Nicodemus

P.S. I feel like I’ve been born again…

Now Enter In

John 2:13-25

The Passover of the Jews was near, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. In the temple he found people selling cattle, sheep, and doves, and the moneychangers seated at their tables. Making a whip of cords, he drove all of them out of the temple, both the sheep and the cattle. He also poured out the coins of the moneychangers and overturned their tables. He told those who were selling the doves, “Take these things out of here! Stop making my Father’s house a marketplace!” His disciples remembered that it was written, “Zeal for your house will consume me.” The Jews then said to him, “What sign can you show us for doing this?” Jesus answered them, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” The Jews then said, “This temple has been under construction for forty-six years, and will you raise it up in three days?” But he was speaking of the temple of his body. After he was raised from the dead, his disciples remembered that he had said this; and they believed the scripture and the word that Jesus had spoken.

When he was in Jerusalem during the Passover festival, many believed in his name because they saw the signs that he was doing. But Jesus on his part would not entrust himself to them, because he knew all people and needed no one to testify about anyone; for he himself knew what was in everyone.

As a spiritual director, I listen to the wounds and struggles of people. Mothers, fathers, elders, young adults, single adults – all struggle with the chaos of life and especially with finding their center in God in the midst of the chaos. Between careers, raising children, dealing with health issues, fears, interpersonal relationships and all that goes with just living life, people are often stretched beyond capacity. They find themselves running on empty and achingly poor in spirit. They need the Lord to pour himself into them because they don’t have what it takes to climb over obstacles, pull themselves free of encumbrances and clear away the inner debris in order to find him. They write spiritual checks and get N.S.F. notices from their hearts. 

When Jesus walked into the outer courts of the temple, what he saw made his heart ache for his people. Before they could even enter the temple they had to deal with a chaotic cacophony of demanding noise of greed and extortion. Foreigners had to exchange their money for the Jewish currency so they could pay the temple tax, at an inflated exchange rate of course. People couldn’t just bring their own animals or doves for sacrifice because their animals would be judged as blemished and unacceptable so they would end up having to buy their sacrificial animals from the “Purveyors of Fine Cattle and Sheep – Guaranteed to be Without Blemish” (and guaranteed to line the pockets of the temple coffers). Naturally, the animals being sold were quite expensive. The law made it so that no one was exempt from having to make a sacrifice of some sort. The people were being ripped off and they were helpless to do anything about it. If this was allowed in the courts of the Temple of God, what did that say to the people about their worthiness to freely come to God in their need?

When I read the Gospel, I imagined some of the people I know feeling empty, poor and so needy of spiritual sustenance. I saw them going to the house of the Lord to place themselves before God to ask for his blessing and grace. And I imagined them in the temple court being faced with chaos and noise and grasping hands reaching out to strip them of the little they had. I saw them crushed in spirit before they even had a chance to be in God’s presence.

Jesus saw this too. When he saw the vendors and moneychangers gouging the people, people who had so little to begin with, materially and spiritually, I believe Jesus looked down through the ages and saw his Anawim, “the poor ones of the Lord”, stumbling to God to ask for his help, graces and blessings but finding themselves faced with hurdles and hoops to jump through before they could approach the throne. “My Father’s house is a house of prayer!” he said. Prayer: conversation and intimate relationship with his Abba. How can people pray to a loving Father if they’re hungry or scared of the authorities’ displeasure or unsure of whether there will be enough money left over to feed a family? How can they seek love and healing if they don’t know they are worth being loved and healed, if they feel they are only worth being taken advantage of and then ignored in their neediness?

When Jesus said, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up,” he was referring to the temple of his body, of course, but he was also saying his temple would be a temple where the poor could come without money and without feeling like there was a price of any kind to pay before they could enter into the presence of his Father. In his temple there would be a standing invitation: “Everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and you that have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price.” (Isaiah 55:1) No hoops. No distortion or extortion. No abuse. No class distinction. It was his intention that all would be priests, no one would be higher or lower than anyone else and all would be welcome. 

One of the reasons Jesus came was to let us know that God is our Abba…our loving Father or Papa. There is no good father who doesn’t want his little ones to run into his arms freely, especially if they are ill, scared or uncertain, don’t know how to handle things or just need arms of reassurance. This is Father Love. Jesus said, “Let the little children come. Don’t turn them away. Don’t make it hard for them to find my arms.” He also said, ‘If any of you put a stumbling-block before one of these little ones who believe in me, it would be better for you if a great millstone were fastened around your neck and you were drowned in the depth of the sea.' (Matthew 18:6)

We often think of the poor in spirit as someone other than ourselves because, no doubt, there is always someone worse off than we are. But, you know, you are allowed to be a poor one. You are allowed to say, “I have nothing. I can’t pay the price I've been told it costs to come to my Father and climb into his arms.” 

And Jesus answers, “It’s all right, Small One. I paid the price.”

This is the third week of Lent. If you have a moment in your poverty, think of Jesus stopping on his journey to the Cross to clear the temple for you. Think of him driving out the noise, chaos, unfair demands and grasping hands reaching out to rob you of your ability to freely enter the Holy of Holies. See him turn to you to say, “There. It’s done. They’re all gone. Now you can enter and be with my Father.”

Lenten question: Has anyone ever made you feel inadequate, unworthy of God's love or anything less than a dignified and beloved child of God? Remember, absolutely no one or anything has the authority to do that to you. By the same token, we all need to remember that we have no authority to do this to anyone else.