Die (to your old self),
That is what Jesus did when He embraced His humanity.
May you decide to give up what you used to think you would never have been able to give up.
Rest (from your work),
After all the work that Jesus did, He rested on this Sabbath.
May you take time to breathe and remember why we're doing all the work we do.
Prepare (for your new life),
When He rose, His work extended to the ends of the world.
May you make plans to become His instrument in the world out there.
Happy Holy Saturday.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Friday, April 22, 2011
Do you desire Him?
“I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer” (Lk 22:15). With these words Jesus began the celebration of his final meal and the institution of the Holy Eucharist. Jesus approached that hour with eager desire. In his heart he awaited the moment when he would give himself to his own under the appearance of bread and wine. He awaited that moment which would in some sense be the true messianic wedding feast: when he would transform the gifts of this world and become one with his own, so as to transform them and thus inaugurate the transformation of the world. In this eager desire of Jesus we can recognize the desire of God himself – his expectant love for mankind, for his creation. A love which awaits the moment of union, a love which wants to draw mankind to itself and thereby fulfil the desire of all creation, for creation eagerly awaits the revelation of the children of God (cf.Rom 8:19). Jesus desires us, he awaits us. But what about ourselves? Do we really desire him? Are we anxious to meet him? Do we desire to encounter him, to become one with him, to receive the gifts he offers us in the Holy Eucharist? Or are we indifferent, distracted, busy about other things?
- from Pope Benedict XVI's homily at the Mass of the Lord's Supper, held today at the Basilica of St. John Lateran
- from Pope Benedict XVI's homily at the Mass of the Lord's Supper, held today at the Basilica of St. John Lateran
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Thanks for the grace the Lord has given me (a sharing by Alphonsus Josemaria Soh)
[It] has been a struggling season for me because the fight with self weakness and self pleasures it always there and I see in this season it gets more difficult and becomes very real that I need God more then my wants, things that I seek, the temporal pleasures and happiness.
But I draw strength from Jesus through the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass everyday, through the adoration of the Blessed Sacrament, recitation of the Holy Rosary seeking intercession from our Blessed Mother, recitation of the Divine Mercy and lastly Fasting from food to unite my little suffering with those who don't have food.
All these little acts or penance I do, [I do it] through the grace the Lord has given. [If I tried to do] it by my own strength, definitely I [would not have made] it because the "God" element [would not have been] part of the process. Truly, I can say I see the fruits in this labour that I work with God, as mention in scripture: "You will be able to tell them by their fruits" (Mt 7:16).
Lastly for those who are struggling with your Lenten commitments united it with our Lord and don't lose heart and allow the devil to cheat us in any way. Remember to ask our Blessed Mother to give us graces and the strength to carry on.
Celebrating the Easter Triduum
[Today we mark] the beginning of the Easter Triduum, the three days in which the Church commemorates the mystery of the Lord's passion, death and resurrection.
The liturgies of these days invite us to ponder the loving obedience of Christ who, having become like us in all things but sin, resisted temptation and freely surrendered himself to the Father's will.
[At] the Chrism Mass, priests renew their ordination promises, the sacred oils are blessed, and we celebrate the grace of the crucified and risen Lord which comes to us through the Church's sacramental life.
On the evening of Holy Thursday, the Mass of the Lord's Supper begins the actual Triduum and recalls the institution of the sacraments of the Eucharist and Holy Orders.
The Liturgy of Good Friday invites us to share in Christ's sufferings through penance and fasting, and to receive the gift of God's love flowing from the Lord's pierced Heart.
The Easter Vigil joyfully proclaims Christ's resurrection from the dead and the new life received in Baptism.
By our prayers and our sharing in these liturgies, let us resolve to imitate Christ's loving obedience to the Father's saving plan, which is the source of authentic freedom and the path of eternal life.
- Pope Benedict XVI, Wednesday Audience (20 Apr), St Peter's Square
The liturgies of these days invite us to ponder the loving obedience of Christ who, having become like us in all things but sin, resisted temptation and freely surrendered himself to the Father's will.
[At] the Chrism Mass, priests renew their ordination promises, the sacred oils are blessed, and we celebrate the grace of the crucified and risen Lord which comes to us through the Church's sacramental life.
On the evening of Holy Thursday, the Mass of the Lord's Supper begins the actual Triduum and recalls the institution of the sacraments of the Eucharist and Holy Orders.
The Liturgy of Good Friday invites us to share in Christ's sufferings through penance and fasting, and to receive the gift of God's love flowing from the Lord's pierced Heart.
The Easter Vigil joyfully proclaims Christ's resurrection from the dead and the new life received in Baptism.
By our prayers and our sharing in these liturgies, let us resolve to imitate Christ's loving obedience to the Father's saving plan, which is the source of authentic freedom and the path of eternal life.
- Pope Benedict XVI, Wednesday Audience (20 Apr), St Peter's Square
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
By one death and resurrection the world was saved
When mankind was estranged from him by disobedience, God our Saviour made a plan for raising us from our fall and restoring us to friendship with himself. According to this plan Christ came in the flesh, he showed us the gospel way of life, he suffered, died on the cross, was buried and rose from the dead. He did this so that we could be saved by imitation of him, and recover our original status as sons of God by adoption.
To attain holiness, then, we must not only pattern our lives on Christ’s by being gentle, humble and patient, we must also imitate him in his death. Taking Christ for his model, Paul said that he wanted to become like him in his death in the hope that he too would be raised from death to life.
We imitate Christ’s death by being buried with him in baptism. If we ask what this kind of burial means and what benefit we may hope to derive from it, it means first of all making a complete break with our former way of life, and our Lord himself said that this cannot be done unless a man is born again. In other words, we have to begin a new life, and we cannot do so until our previous life has been brought to an end. When runners reach the turning point on a racecourse, they have to pause briefly before they can go back in the opposite direction. So also when we wish to reverse the direction of our lives there must be a pause, or a death, to mark the end of one life and the beginning of another.
Our descent into hell takes place when we imitate the burial of Christ by our baptism. The bodies of the baptised are in a sense buried in the water as a symbol of their renunciation of the sins of their unregenerate nature. As the Apostle says: The circumcision you have undergone is not an operation performed by human hands, but the complete stripping away of your unregenerate nature. This is the circumcision that Christ gave us, and it is accomplished by our burial with him in baptism. Baptism cleanses the soul from the pollution of worldly thoughts and inclinations: You will wash me, says the psalmist, and I shall be whiter than snow. We receive this saving baptism only once because there was only one death and one resurrection for the salvation of the world, and baptism is its symbol.
- St Basil, bishop
To attain holiness, then, we must not only pattern our lives on Christ’s by being gentle, humble and patient, we must also imitate him in his death. Taking Christ for his model, Paul said that he wanted to become like him in his death in the hope that he too would be raised from death to life.
We imitate Christ’s death by being buried with him in baptism. If we ask what this kind of burial means and what benefit we may hope to derive from it, it means first of all making a complete break with our former way of life, and our Lord himself said that this cannot be done unless a man is born again. In other words, we have to begin a new life, and we cannot do so until our previous life has been brought to an end. When runners reach the turning point on a racecourse, they have to pause briefly before they can go back in the opposite direction. So also when we wish to reverse the direction of our lives there must be a pause, or a death, to mark the end of one life and the beginning of another.
Our descent into hell takes place when we imitate the burial of Christ by our baptism. The bodies of the baptised are in a sense buried in the water as a symbol of their renunciation of the sins of their unregenerate nature. As the Apostle says: The circumcision you have undergone is not an operation performed by human hands, but the complete stripping away of your unregenerate nature. This is the circumcision that Christ gave us, and it is accomplished by our burial with him in baptism. Baptism cleanses the soul from the pollution of worldly thoughts and inclinations: You will wash me, says the psalmist, and I shall be whiter than snow. We receive this saving baptism only once because there was only one death and one resurrection for the salvation of the world, and baptism is its symbol.
- St Basil, bishop
Do you fear silence?
Sometimes when you first get to a restaurant for a meal it’s nice and quiet. It’s easy to talk to your friends. It’s relaxing. It’s peaceful. Then a few hours later you all of a sudden realize that you’ve been yelling at each other for the past hour, your voice is getting sore and you can hardly hear each other anymore.
You look up and notice it’s the same thing at every table around you. Dishes clang in the kitchen. Some music you can barely make out blares from the ether. Waiters quickly dodge each other. A tray full of drinks crashes to the floor. The kitchen door slams. A hungry mob has formed by the door, sipping drinks and complaining about the wait. The bottle of wine in front of you is empty.
All of a sudden it is so noisy you can hardly hear yourself speak…let alone anybody else.
Such is our life. We can remember quieter times. We started out whispering. But now all of a sudden our voices are feeling a bit tired. We’ve already been yelling for quite some time. And we can’t remember when the whispering ended and the yelling began.
Why? Just like in the restaurant, the background noise has incrementally crept up without us realizing it. And now we’re yelling.
I remember when I was a kid wanting to listen to the radio really loudly. I would crank up the volume and rock-out. My parents, recognizing immediately that the volume was too loud, would then make me turn it down.
So what did I do? I would wait a few minutes, of course, and then bump up the volume just a tiny bit. And when nobody noticed that, I would do it again a few minutes later. With a little patience, I was back to full rocking-out volume - at least for a little while.
The World does the same thing. It loves noise and preys on our fear of silence. It will slowly swallow us up. And if we don’t stay alert, we will happily let it.
Holy Week (and Lent in general) is the perfect time to hit the reset button on the noise. Reset your noise floor. Cultivate the silence. Sit in its classroom. Prepare ourselves to receive Christ at Easter.
“Silence presents both sides of the Christian challenge. Firstly, silence introduces us to ourselves - our faults, failings, flaws, defects, talents, abilities, and potential. And secondly, silence introduces us to God - greatness, fidelity, and perfection. It is these two discoveries together - self and God - that propose the Christian challenge. Seeing ourselves as we are, and God as He is, we are always challenged to change, to grow, and to become more like God."
Thanks to by Matthew Warner from National Catholic Register
You look up and notice it’s the same thing at every table around you. Dishes clang in the kitchen. Some music you can barely make out blares from the ether. Waiters quickly dodge each other. A tray full of drinks crashes to the floor. The kitchen door slams. A hungry mob has formed by the door, sipping drinks and complaining about the wait. The bottle of wine in front of you is empty.
All of a sudden it is so noisy you can hardly hear yourself speak…let alone anybody else.
Such is our life. We can remember quieter times. We started out whispering. But now all of a sudden our voices are feeling a bit tired. We’ve already been yelling for quite some time. And we can’t remember when the whispering ended and the yelling began.
Why? Just like in the restaurant, the background noise has incrementally crept up without us realizing it. And now we’re yelling.
I remember when I was a kid wanting to listen to the radio really loudly. I would crank up the volume and rock-out. My parents, recognizing immediately that the volume was too loud, would then make me turn it down.
So what did I do? I would wait a few minutes, of course, and then bump up the volume just a tiny bit. And when nobody noticed that, I would do it again a few minutes later. With a little patience, I was back to full rocking-out volume - at least for a little while.
The World does the same thing. It loves noise and preys on our fear of silence. It will slowly swallow us up. And if we don’t stay alert, we will happily let it.
Holy Week (and Lent in general) is the perfect time to hit the reset button on the noise. Reset your noise floor. Cultivate the silence. Sit in its classroom. Prepare ourselves to receive Christ at Easter.
“Silence presents both sides of the Christian challenge. Firstly, silence introduces us to ourselves - our faults, failings, flaws, defects, talents, abilities, and potential. And secondly, silence introduces us to God - greatness, fidelity, and perfection. It is these two discoveries together - self and God - that propose the Christian challenge. Seeing ourselves as we are, and God as He is, we are always challenged to change, to grow, and to become more like God."
Thanks to by Matthew Warner from National Catholic Register
Monday, April 18, 2011
Plan harassers (a sharing by Priscilla Chua)
Some evil man has been harassing my plants and it has been going on for a while. Today I found my aloe vera plant uprooted and left to die. I was feeling very annoyed and really surprised that there are people out there who has so much time on their hands to mess up my plants. But amazingly, I felt a little wave of forgiveness towards the culprit as well. I don't know who he is and why is he doing that but that's not going to stop me from continuing to water my plants more consistently and shower more love.
Then I had this inspiration - is this how God view and care for His people especially if they've sinned and strays away? I think so... God will stick closer to His children and make sure that He keeps evil at bay, never giving up on each one of his us.
Call me crazy but before leaving I had a little session of assurance and affirmations with the plants (however one-sided it may sound, it's proven that plants grow better when people talk/sing to them!). I told them they have to stay strong and I promise I do what I can to keep them growing. But we can't do it without the Lord's help and protection so it's going to be team effort.
Then I had this inspiration - is this how God view and care for His people especially if they've sinned and strays away? I think so... God will stick closer to His children and make sure that He keeps evil at bay, never giving up on each one of his us.
Call me crazy but before leaving I had a little session of assurance and affirmations with the plants (however one-sided it may sound, it's proven that plants grow better when people talk/sing to them!). I told them they have to stay strong and I promise I do what I can to keep them growing. But we can't do it without the Lord's help and protection so it's going to be team effort.
Pope Benedict XVI's Palm Sunday homily
It is a moving experience each year on Palm Sunday as we go up the mountain with Jesus, towards the Temple, accompanying him on his ascent. On this day, throughout the world and across the centuries, young people and people of every age acclaim him, crying out: “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”
But what are we really doing when we join this procession as part of the throng which went up with Jesus to Jerusalem and hailed him as King of Israel? Is this anything more than a ritual, a quaint custom? Does it have anything to do with the reality of our life and our world? To answer this, we must first be clear about what Jesus himself wished to do and actually did. After Peter’s confession of faith in Caesarea Philippi, in the northernmost part of the Holy Land, Jesus set out as a pilgrim towards Jerusalem for the feast of Passover. He was journeying towards the Temple in the Holy City, towards that place which for Israel ensured in a particular way God’s closeness to his people. He was making his way towards the common feast of Passover, the memorial of Israel’s liberation from Egypt and the sign of its hope of definitive liberation. He knew that what awaited him was a new Passover and that he himself would take the place of the sacrificial lambs by offering himself on the cross. He knew that in the mysterious gifts of bread and wine he would give himself for ever to his own, and that he would open to them the door to a new path of liberation, to fellowship with the living God. He was making his way to the heights of the Cross, to the moment of self-giving love. The ultimate goal of his pilgrimage was the heights of God himself; to those heights he wanted to lift every human being.
Our procession today is meant, then, to be an image of something deeper, to reflect the fact that, together with Jesus, we are setting out on pilgrimage along the high road that leads to the living God. This is the ascent that matters. This is the journey which Jesus invites us to make. But how can we keep pace with this ascent? Isn’t it beyond our ability? Certainly, it is beyond our own possibilities. From the beginning men and women have been filled – and this is as true today as ever – with a desire to “be like God”, to attain the heights of God by their own powers. All the inventions of the human spirit are ultimately an effort to gain wings so as to rise to the heights of Being and to become independent, completely free, as God is free. Mankind has managed to accomplish so many things: we can fly! We can see, hear and speak to one another from the farthest ends of the earth. And yet the force of gravity which draws us down is powerful. With the increase of our abilities there has been an increase not only of good. Our possibilities for evil have increased and appear like menacing storms above history. Our limitations have also remained: we need but think of the disasters which have caused so much suffering for humanity in recent months.
The Fathers of the Church maintained that human beings stand at the point of intersection between two gravitational fields. First, there is the force of gravity which pulls us down – towards selfishness, falsehood and evil; the gravity which diminishes us and distances us from the heights of God. On the other hand there is the gravitational force of God’s love: the fact that we are loved by God and respond in love attracts us upwards. Man finds himself betwixt this twofold gravitational force; everything depends on our escaping the gravitational field of evil and becoming free to be attracted completely by the gravitational force of God, which makes us authentic, elevates us and grants us true freedom.
Following the Liturgy of the Word, at the beginning of the Eucharistic Prayer where the Lord comes into our midst, the Church invites us to lift up our hearts: “Sursum corda!” In the language of the Bible and the thinking of the Fathers, the heart is the centre of man, where understanding, will and feeling, body and soul, all come together. The centre where spirit becomes body and body becomes spirit, where will, feeling and understanding become one in the knowledge and love of God. This is the “heart” which must be lifted up. But to repeat: of ourselves, we are too weak to lift up our hearts to the heights of God. We cannot do it. The very pride of thinking that we are able to do it on our own drags us down and estranges us from God. God himself must draw us up, and this is what Christ began to do on the cross. He descended to the depths of our human existence in order to draw us up to himself, to the living God. He humbled himself, as today’s second reading says. Only in this way could our pride be vanquished: God’s humility is the extreme form of his love, and this humble love draws us upwards.
Psalm 24, which the Church proposes as the “song of ascent” to accompany our procession in today’s liturgy, indicates some concrete elements which are part of our ascent and without which we cannot be lifted upwards: clean hands, a pure heart, the rejection of falsehood, the quest for God’s face. The great achievements of technology are liberating and contribute to the progress of mankind only if they are joined to these attitudes – if our hands become clean and our hearts pure, if we seek truth, if we seek God and let ourselves be touched and challenged by his love. All these means of “ascent” are effective only if we humbly acknowledge that we need to be lifted up; if we abandon the pride of wanting to become God. We need God: he draws us upwards; letting ourselves be upheld by his hands – by faith, in other words – sets us aright and gives us the inner strength that raises us on high. We need the humility of a faith which seeks the face of God and trusts in the truth of his love.
The question of how man can attain the heights, becoming completely himself and completely like God, has always engaged mankind. It was passionately disputed by the Platonic philosophers of the third and fourth centuries. For them, the central issue was finding the means of purification which could free man from the heavy load weighing him down and thus enable him to ascend to the heights of his true being, to the heights of divinity. Saint Augustine, in his search for the right path, long sought guidance from those philosophies. But in the end he had to acknowledge that their answers were insufficient, their methods would not truly lead him to God. To those philosophers he said: recognize that human power and all these purifications are not enough to bring man in truth to the heights of the divine, to his own heights. And he added that he should have despaired of himself and human existence had he not found the One who accomplishes what we of ourselves cannot accomplish; the One who raises us up to the heights of God in spite of our wretchedness: Jesus Christ who from God came down to us and, in his crucified love, takes us by the hand and lifts us on high.
We are on pilgrimage with the Lord to the heights. We are striving for pure hearts and clean hands, we are seeking truth, we are seeking the face of God. Let us show the Lord that we desire to be righteous, and let us ask him: Draw us upwards! Make us pure! Grant that the words which we sang in the processional psalm may also hold true for us; grant that we may be part of the generation which seeks God, “which seeks your face, O God of Jacob” (cf. Ps 24:6). Amen.
- Palm Sunday homily of his holiness Pope Benedict XVI on 17 April 2011 at St Peter's Square.
But what are we really doing when we join this procession as part of the throng which went up with Jesus to Jerusalem and hailed him as King of Israel? Is this anything more than a ritual, a quaint custom? Does it have anything to do with the reality of our life and our world? To answer this, we must first be clear about what Jesus himself wished to do and actually did. After Peter’s confession of faith in Caesarea Philippi, in the northernmost part of the Holy Land, Jesus set out as a pilgrim towards Jerusalem for the feast of Passover. He was journeying towards the Temple in the Holy City, towards that place which for Israel ensured in a particular way God’s closeness to his people. He was making his way towards the common feast of Passover, the memorial of Israel’s liberation from Egypt and the sign of its hope of definitive liberation. He knew that what awaited him was a new Passover and that he himself would take the place of the sacrificial lambs by offering himself on the cross. He knew that in the mysterious gifts of bread and wine he would give himself for ever to his own, and that he would open to them the door to a new path of liberation, to fellowship with the living God. He was making his way to the heights of the Cross, to the moment of self-giving love. The ultimate goal of his pilgrimage was the heights of God himself; to those heights he wanted to lift every human being.
Our procession today is meant, then, to be an image of something deeper, to reflect the fact that, together with Jesus, we are setting out on pilgrimage along the high road that leads to the living God. This is the ascent that matters. This is the journey which Jesus invites us to make. But how can we keep pace with this ascent? Isn’t it beyond our ability? Certainly, it is beyond our own possibilities. From the beginning men and women have been filled – and this is as true today as ever – with a desire to “be like God”, to attain the heights of God by their own powers. All the inventions of the human spirit are ultimately an effort to gain wings so as to rise to the heights of Being and to become independent, completely free, as God is free. Mankind has managed to accomplish so many things: we can fly! We can see, hear and speak to one another from the farthest ends of the earth. And yet the force of gravity which draws us down is powerful. With the increase of our abilities there has been an increase not only of good. Our possibilities for evil have increased and appear like menacing storms above history. Our limitations have also remained: we need but think of the disasters which have caused so much suffering for humanity in recent months.
The Fathers of the Church maintained that human beings stand at the point of intersection between two gravitational fields. First, there is the force of gravity which pulls us down – towards selfishness, falsehood and evil; the gravity which diminishes us and distances us from the heights of God. On the other hand there is the gravitational force of God’s love: the fact that we are loved by God and respond in love attracts us upwards. Man finds himself betwixt this twofold gravitational force; everything depends on our escaping the gravitational field of evil and becoming free to be attracted completely by the gravitational force of God, which makes us authentic, elevates us and grants us true freedom.
Following the Liturgy of the Word, at the beginning of the Eucharistic Prayer where the Lord comes into our midst, the Church invites us to lift up our hearts: “Sursum corda!” In the language of the Bible and the thinking of the Fathers, the heart is the centre of man, where understanding, will and feeling, body and soul, all come together. The centre where spirit becomes body and body becomes spirit, where will, feeling and understanding become one in the knowledge and love of God. This is the “heart” which must be lifted up. But to repeat: of ourselves, we are too weak to lift up our hearts to the heights of God. We cannot do it. The very pride of thinking that we are able to do it on our own drags us down and estranges us from God. God himself must draw us up, and this is what Christ began to do on the cross. He descended to the depths of our human existence in order to draw us up to himself, to the living God. He humbled himself, as today’s second reading says. Only in this way could our pride be vanquished: God’s humility is the extreme form of his love, and this humble love draws us upwards.
Psalm 24, which the Church proposes as the “song of ascent” to accompany our procession in today’s liturgy, indicates some concrete elements which are part of our ascent and without which we cannot be lifted upwards: clean hands, a pure heart, the rejection of falsehood, the quest for God’s face. The great achievements of technology are liberating and contribute to the progress of mankind only if they are joined to these attitudes – if our hands become clean and our hearts pure, if we seek truth, if we seek God and let ourselves be touched and challenged by his love. All these means of “ascent” are effective only if we humbly acknowledge that we need to be lifted up; if we abandon the pride of wanting to become God. We need God: he draws us upwards; letting ourselves be upheld by his hands – by faith, in other words – sets us aright and gives us the inner strength that raises us on high. We need the humility of a faith which seeks the face of God and trusts in the truth of his love.
The question of how man can attain the heights, becoming completely himself and completely like God, has always engaged mankind. It was passionately disputed by the Platonic philosophers of the third and fourth centuries. For them, the central issue was finding the means of purification which could free man from the heavy load weighing him down and thus enable him to ascend to the heights of his true being, to the heights of divinity. Saint Augustine, in his search for the right path, long sought guidance from those philosophies. But in the end he had to acknowledge that their answers were insufficient, their methods would not truly lead him to God. To those philosophers he said: recognize that human power and all these purifications are not enough to bring man in truth to the heights of the divine, to his own heights. And he added that he should have despaired of himself and human existence had he not found the One who accomplishes what we of ourselves cannot accomplish; the One who raises us up to the heights of God in spite of our wretchedness: Jesus Christ who from God came down to us and, in his crucified love, takes us by the hand and lifts us on high.
We are on pilgrimage with the Lord to the heights. We are striving for pure hearts and clean hands, we are seeking truth, we are seeking the face of God. Let us show the Lord that we desire to be righteous, and let us ask him: Draw us upwards! Make us pure! Grant that the words which we sang in the processional psalm may also hold true for us; grant that we may be part of the generation which seeks God, “which seeks your face, O God of Jacob” (cf. Ps 24:6). Amen.
- Palm Sunday homily of his holiness Pope Benedict XVI on 17 April 2011 at St Peter's Square.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
The agony of victory and the thrill of defeat
The readings for Palm Sunday dramatically depict the thrill of Christ’s victorious entrance into Jerusalem, His agony in the garden, and His apparent defeat on the Cross, taking us to the cusp of His stunning victory over the grave. Those events weren’t, of course, matters of sport and entertainment, but of life and death, damnation and salvation. And they contain a wealth of paradox, filled with seemingly apparent contradictions that can only make sense because they are supernatural. They are, [in another words], part of the foolishness of God that is wiser than the wisdom of men (cf., 1 Cor 1:25).
If the Incarnation is incomprehensible, the death of the God-man on the Cross is simply incredible, an audacious act of sacrificial love freely accepted by the One who is and who knows perfect Love. The Cross is not the end, but the beginning, the start of a new creation and the birth of the Church. It is not the final destruction of a life, but the only source of everlasting life.
The Easter liturgy of the Eastern Churches continually returns to a simple refrain of paradoxical joy: “By death He conquered death.” G.K. Chesterton, a master of paradox, had a character in the novel The Ball and the Cross put it this way: “The cross cannot be defeated … for it is Defeat.” Here is the true thrill of victory, not snatched from the jaws of defeat, but in and through the jaws of death. It is because of this that God exalted Christ Jesus, so that every tongue will confess that He is Lord.
Here is a final paradox to ponder: those who should recognize the Messiah often do not, while those who have little status or knowledge often do recognize Him. Judas, who lived with Christ for three years, betrayed Him to the chief priests, whose place and power blinds them to identity of the man from Nazareth. The lowly crowds, however, sang “Hosanna!”, and the Roman solders—accustomed to seeing death—exclaimed, at the foot of the Cross, “Truly, this was the Son of God!”
Perhaps this supernatural paradox could be called the agony of victory and the thrill of defeat.
Thanks to Carl Olsen for Ignatius Insight Scoop.
If the Incarnation is incomprehensible, the death of the God-man on the Cross is simply incredible, an audacious act of sacrificial love freely accepted by the One who is and who knows perfect Love. The Cross is not the end, but the beginning, the start of a new creation and the birth of the Church. It is not the final destruction of a life, but the only source of everlasting life.
The Easter liturgy of the Eastern Churches continually returns to a simple refrain of paradoxical joy: “By death He conquered death.” G.K. Chesterton, a master of paradox, had a character in the novel The Ball and the Cross put it this way: “The cross cannot be defeated … for it is Defeat.” Here is the true thrill of victory, not snatched from the jaws of defeat, but in and through the jaws of death. It is because of this that God exalted Christ Jesus, so that every tongue will confess that He is Lord.
Here is a final paradox to ponder: those who should recognize the Messiah often do not, while those who have little status or knowledge often do recognize Him. Judas, who lived with Christ for three years, betrayed Him to the chief priests, whose place and power blinds them to identity of the man from Nazareth. The lowly crowds, however, sang “Hosanna!”, and the Roman solders—accustomed to seeing death—exclaimed, at the foot of the Cross, “Truly, this was the Son of God!”
Perhaps this supernatural paradox could be called the agony of victory and the thrill of defeat.
Thanks to Carl Olsen for Ignatius Insight Scoop.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
The Holy Sacrifice of The Mass: Climax of The Lenten Journey
It is in assisting at the Liturgy of the Mass, the Holy Sacrifice, that Christians are drawn most closely into the Paschal Mystery: the Passion, Death, Resurrection and Ascension of our Lord Jesus Christ. This is the path our Savior has set before his People: that they should be present at his most sacred sacrifice, as was the Virgin Mother of God and the beloved disciple (see Jn 19:26). Yet at Mass we are not simply present at the foot of the cross, for as we walk forward and receive the true body, blood, soul and divinity of the Risen One in Eucharist, we receive infinitely more than those who, standing on Calvary some two-thousand years past, received by use of their sight. In reception of Eucharist, we do not merely watch as a distant onlooker; rather, we truly enter into the Paschal Mystery through Jesus' gift of Himself, and thus are swept up into the supernatural life of the Holy Trinity.
At his Ash Wednesday Audience just weeks ago, Pope Benedict noted that in Liturgy we relive the "events that have led us to salvation; but not as a simple commemoration, a recollection of things past. There is a keyword to indicate this," continued our Holy Father, "which is often repeated in the liturgy: the word 'today,' which must be understood not metaphorically but in its original concrete sense. Today God reveals His law and we have the opportunity to chose between good and evil, between life and death."
The Pope concluded with these words: "On this Lenten journey, let us be attentive to welcoming Christ's invitation to follow Him more decisively and coherently, renewing the grace and commitments of our Baptism, so as to abandon the old man who is in us and clothe ourselves in Christ, thus reaching Easter renewed and being able to say with St. Paul 'it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me.'"
Thanks to F. K. Bartels, Catholic Online
See article here.
At his Ash Wednesday Audience just weeks ago, Pope Benedict noted that in Liturgy we relive the "events that have led us to salvation; but not as a simple commemoration, a recollection of things past. There is a keyword to indicate this," continued our Holy Father, "which is often repeated in the liturgy: the word 'today,' which must be understood not metaphorically but in its original concrete sense. Today God reveals His law and we have the opportunity to chose between good and evil, between life and death."
The Pope concluded with these words: "On this Lenten journey, let us be attentive to welcoming Christ's invitation to follow Him more decisively and coherently, renewing the grace and commitments of our Baptism, so as to abandon the old man who is in us and clothe ourselves in Christ, thus reaching Easter renewed and being able to say with St. Paul 'it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me.'"
Thanks to F. K. Bartels, Catholic Online
See article here.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Holinss is for all of us
Pope Benedict, at his Wednesday Audience on 13 Apr, gave a very timely reminder of our end-goal, not just of Lent, but of our lives. Perhaps, with a week remaining in Lent, it is timely for us to evaluate:
"Holiness is the fullness of the Christian life, a life in Christ; it consists in our being united to Christ, making our own his thoughts and actions, and conforming our lives to his. As such, it is chiefly the work of the Holy Spirit who is poured forth into our hearts through Baptism, making us sharers in the paschal mystery and enabling us to live a new life in union with the Risen Christ. Christian holiness is nothing other than the virtue of charity lived to its fullest.
"In the pursuit of holiness, we allow the seed of God's life and love to be cultivated by hearing his word and putting it into practice, by prayer and the celebration of the sacraments, by sacrifice and service of our brothers and sisters. The lives of the saints encourage us along this great path leading to the fullness of eternal life. By their prayers, and the grace of the Holy Spirit, may each of us live fully our Christian vocation and thus become a stone in that great mosaic of holiness which God is creating in history, so that the glory shining on the face of Christ may be seen in all its splendour."
"Holiness is the fullness of the Christian life, a life in Christ; it consists in our being united to Christ, making our own his thoughts and actions, and conforming our lives to his. As such, it is chiefly the work of the Holy Spirit who is poured forth into our hearts through Baptism, making us sharers in the paschal mystery and enabling us to live a new life in union with the Risen Christ. Christian holiness is nothing other than the virtue of charity lived to its fullest.
"In the pursuit of holiness, we allow the seed of God's life and love to be cultivated by hearing his word and putting it into practice, by prayer and the celebration of the sacraments, by sacrifice and service of our brothers and sisters. The lives of the saints encourage us along this great path leading to the fullness of eternal life. By their prayers, and the grace of the Holy Spirit, may each of us live fully our Christian vocation and thus become a stone in that great mosaic of holiness which God is creating in history, so that the glory shining on the face of Christ may be seen in all its splendour."
The joy of peace (a sharing by Matthew Samy)
Well as most of [my friends] have known or now know, I am discerning God's call in my life and to the Priesthood. For me this Lent has been an especially hard one, those who know me well will know how quick and hot tempererd I can be and I still am.
I would sometimes turn to smoking as a way to calm myself down and to recollect my thoughts and feelings. So I've promised myself, (not anyone else, just myself as I am afraid that i am not strong enough to keep it, if I promised God) that this lent I'm going to make a conscious effort to not get angry over silly things and even [if] I did get angry to control myself and not let my anger take control of me in those situations.
Well I've not been perfectly successful in keeping everything at bay, I've fallen a few times, and each time I fell, I would feel a deep sense of disappointment in my life and that i was weak and useless. I asked myself what would Jesus do in this situation. I made the conscious effort to apologise to these people namely my mother and sister. Although I didn't mean the things I said, I said in in anger and out of spite and the words used were very 'cutting'. It also allowed them the opportunity to think back and reflect on the earlier incidents that sparked it off. As I offered my heartlfelt apology to them not only did I feel happy but I also felt free that I was no longer bound by this anger and hurt that it caused and in doing so also freed them from that anger and hurt that they held and i felt so relieved when they were able to let it go as i now felt free.
In all those moments I was tempted to just take a break and have a smoke to recollect myself. But I remembered my promise and turned to prayer instead. And in my prayer I found the most wonderful and comforting words that anyone could ever give me.
There's a saying that goes: "There are more ways than one to skin a cat". I've come to realise that sometimes not so much what I say but rather the way I say may be just too direct for someone else's liking and so they get put off by what I say and when I look back, I have to agree, sometimes.
So I found this clip that really reflects how I feel and appeals in way like no one else can and when I'm angry or sad I turn to it and it gives me a sense of God's comforting love and forgiveness and I've realised that I didn't even need to turn to smoking as a way to deal with that anger.
Since the start of this lent I have not smoked and I don't feel the need to any longer. I feel happy that I have been liberated from this and I hope that God gives me the strength to continue down this path and never let it bother me again more so even after lent is over. Afterall the sacrifices we make are not just something we make for lent and then go back to our sinful ways after but rather to realise that we have sinned against God and to turn back to him and he gives us that opportunity every lent to scrutinise ourselves. (The scrutinies that the Elect go through have a lot of meaning even for us who are cradled Catholics and its gives us a chance to look back on our own lives and see how we can improve).
I'd just like to end saying, alone we can do nothing, but with God in our lives and on our side, there is nothing that we can't do. So in all things turn to God, even if its just to thank him for another day he's given you to live or the food you have to eat to day.
I would sometimes turn to smoking as a way to calm myself down and to recollect my thoughts and feelings. So I've promised myself, (not anyone else, just myself as I am afraid that i am not strong enough to keep it, if I promised God) that this lent I'm going to make a conscious effort to not get angry over silly things and even [if] I did get angry to control myself and not let my anger take control of me in those situations.
Well I've not been perfectly successful in keeping everything at bay, I've fallen a few times, and each time I fell, I would feel a deep sense of disappointment in my life and that i was weak and useless. I asked myself what would Jesus do in this situation. I made the conscious effort to apologise to these people namely my mother and sister. Although I didn't mean the things I said, I said in in anger and out of spite and the words used were very 'cutting'. It also allowed them the opportunity to think back and reflect on the earlier incidents that sparked it off. As I offered my heartlfelt apology to them not only did I feel happy but I also felt free that I was no longer bound by this anger and hurt that it caused and in doing so also freed them from that anger and hurt that they held and i felt so relieved when they were able to let it go as i now felt free.
In all those moments I was tempted to just take a break and have a smoke to recollect myself. But I remembered my promise and turned to prayer instead. And in my prayer I found the most wonderful and comforting words that anyone could ever give me.
There's a saying that goes: "There are more ways than one to skin a cat". I've come to realise that sometimes not so much what I say but rather the way I say may be just too direct for someone else's liking and so they get put off by what I say and when I look back, I have to agree, sometimes.
So I found this clip that really reflects how I feel and appeals in way like no one else can and when I'm angry or sad I turn to it and it gives me a sense of God's comforting love and forgiveness and I've realised that I didn't even need to turn to smoking as a way to deal with that anger.
Since the start of this lent I have not smoked and I don't feel the need to any longer. I feel happy that I have been liberated from this and I hope that God gives me the strength to continue down this path and never let it bother me again more so even after lent is over. Afterall the sacrifices we make are not just something we make for lent and then go back to our sinful ways after but rather to realise that we have sinned against God and to turn back to him and he gives us that opportunity every lent to scrutinise ourselves. (The scrutinies that the Elect go through have a lot of meaning even for us who are cradled Catholics and its gives us a chance to look back on our own lives and see how we can improve).
I'd just like to end saying, alone we can do nothing, but with God in our lives and on our side, there is nothing that we can't do. So in all things turn to God, even if its just to thank him for another day he's given you to live or the food you have to eat to day.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
An acceptable time (a sharing my Winifred Ling)
Behold, now is a very acceptable time; behold, now is the day of salvation. 2 Cor 6:2
I was struck by the phrase, “Now is a very acceptable time” in the readings on Ash Wednesday. In most of my years as Catholic, I have always perceived Lent as a period of “suffering” and self-denial. We choose to subtract something that we love from our daily lives, we are invited to pray and care for others more and when we fail, guilt shows itself. And what is so acceptable and wonderful about suffering, self-denial and guilt? It is particularly difficult for me because my birthday always fall in Lent and I often feel terrible when I celebrate it since it's Lent.
This goes to show how shallow and superficial my understanding of this blessed season was. While the three pillars of Lenten program are fasting, prayer and almsgiving, these practices are instituted to enable us to come closer to the Lord by yearning for Him in our lives. They are not an ends in themselves and certainly are not meant to instill guilt and negative feelings in me. This is a season of grace because God is seeking to reestablish a close, personal and intimate relationship with me. As I spend more time in prayer and reflection, this theme repeats itself over and over again and I am touched beyond words as I rediscover the depths of God's love and mercy for me and for each of us.
The truth is distance has crept into my relationship with God. Even though I fulfill my Sunday obligation, pray to God spontaneously and know that He is my personal God, my life was far from living this truth. I was anxious and worried about my future, mostly focused on my ego and I didn't even consider God in the equation. I sought for directions and wisdom in many avenues and left God out of the picture. And yet God has never forgotten me. Neither does He judge me as I would judge myself. About a week before Ash Wednesday the Holy Sprit prompted me to seek God in writing. As I started to journal and recommit myself to Him, it marked my homecoming to my God, the one that I once share a deep and personal relationship with. I realise how much I have missed this intimate relationship with Him and experiencing His presence in my daily life. God is amazing because right about this time, I came to learn about the scripture reflections that Father William Goh writes for Catholic Spirituality Center's website. I would like to share a particular segment that has struck me here.
“The disposition towards Lent is not one of putting on “a gloomy look as the hypocrites do.” Rather, it is a joyful experience of being liberated from our sins and our bondage. The emphasis is not so much of having to make sacrifices and doing penances, but of being liberated for love and compassion.”
A joyful experience of being liberated from our sins and our bondage. How powerful! This couldn't be more true for me. Consequently, this daily reflection has become another source of inspiration and it has helped me tremendously as I continue to learn about God and reconnect with Him. Instead of relying on my own intellect and strength, I turn to God and ask for His guidance and direction in all aspects of my life.
In conclusion, even though my Lenten observances have not been perfect I know categorically that my relationship with my personal God has been restored. Like the prodigal son I have been homesick and finally I got my act together and return to my source of love and God has welcomed me with arms wide open. How appropriate that it should occur during this blessed season of Lent. For that I am truly grateful and I pray that this experience will give me the courage to respond to God's love by exercising the same love, compassion and mercy towards myself and others.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
True disciples
"If you live according to my teaching, you are truly my disciples." (John 8:31)
O Eternal Truth, true love and beloved eternity. You are my God. To You do I sigh day and night. When I first came to know You, you drew me to yourself so that I might see that there were things for me to see, but that I myself was not yet ready to see them. Meanwhile you overcame the weakness of my vision, sending forth most strongly the beams of your light, and I trembled at once with love and dread.
I sought a way to gain the strength which I needed to enjoy you. But I did not find it until I embraced "the mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus, who is above all, God blessed for ever." He was calling me and saying: "I am the way of truth, I am the life."
Late have I loved you, O Beauty ever ancient, ever new, late have I loved you! You were within me, but I was outside, and it was there that I searched for you. In my unloveliness I plunged into the lovely things which you created. You were with me, but I was not with you. Created things kept me from you; yet if they had not been in you they would have not been at all. You called, you shouted, and you broke through my deafness. You flashed, you shone, and you dispelled my blindness. You breathed you fragrance on me; I drew in breath and now I pant for you. I have tasted you, now I hunger and thirst for more. You touched me, and I burned for your peace.
- St Augustine
O Eternal Truth, true love and beloved eternity. You are my God. To You do I sigh day and night. When I first came to know You, you drew me to yourself so that I might see that there were things for me to see, but that I myself was not yet ready to see them. Meanwhile you overcame the weakness of my vision, sending forth most strongly the beams of your light, and I trembled at once with love and dread.
I sought a way to gain the strength which I needed to enjoy you. But I did not find it until I embraced "the mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus, who is above all, God blessed for ever." He was calling me and saying: "I am the way of truth, I am the life."
Late have I loved you, O Beauty ever ancient, ever new, late have I loved you! You were within me, but I was outside, and it was there that I searched for you. In my unloveliness I plunged into the lovely things which you created. You were with me, but I was not with you. Created things kept me from you; yet if they had not been in you they would have not been at all. You called, you shouted, and you broke through my deafness. You flashed, you shone, and you dispelled my blindness. You breathed you fragrance on me; I drew in breath and now I pant for you. I have tasted you, now I hunger and thirst for more. You touched me, and I burned for your peace.
- St Augustine
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Keep the coming feast of the Lord through deeds, not words
The Word who became all things for us is close to us, our Lord Jesus Christ who promises to remain with us always. He cries out, saying: “See, I am with you all the days of this age.” He is himself the shepherd, the high priest, the way and the door, and has become all things at once for us. In the same way, he has come among us as our feast and holy day as well. The blessed Apostle says of him who was awaited: “Christ has been sacrificed as our Passover.” It was Christ who shed his light on the psalmist as he prayed: “You are my joy, deliver me from those surrounding me.” True joy, genuine festival, means the casting out of wickedness. To achieve this one must live a life of perfect goodness and, in the serenity of the fear of God, practise contemplation in one’s heart.
This was the way of the saints, who in their lifetime and at every stage of life rejoiced as at a feast. Blessed David, for example, not once but seven times rose at night to win God’s favour through prayer. The great Moses was full of joy as he sang God’s praises in hymns of victory for the defeat of Pharaoh and the oppressors of the Hebrew people. Others had hearts filled always with gladness as they performed their sacred duty of worship, like the great Samuel and the blessed Elijah. Because of their holy lives they gained freedom, and now keep festival in heaven. They rejoice after their pilgrimage in shadows, and now distinguish the reality from the promise.
When we celebrate the feast in our own day, what path are we to take? As we draw near to this feast, who is to be our guide? Beloved, it must be none other than the one whom you will address with me as our Lord Jesus Christ. He says: “I am the way.” As blessed John tells us: it is Christ “who takes away the sin of the world.” It is he who purifies our souls, as the prophet Jeremiah says: “Stand upon the ways; look and see which is the good path, and you will find in it the way of amendment for your souls.”
In former times the blood of goats and the ashes of a calf were sprinkled on those who were unclean, but they were able to purify only the body. Now through the grace of God’s Word everyone is made abundantly clean. If we follow Christ closely we shall be allowed, even on this earth, to stand as it were on the threshold of the heavenly Jerusalem, and enjoy the contemplation of that everlasting feast, like the blessed apostles, who in following the Saviour as their leader, showed, and still show, the way to obtain the same gift from God. They said: “See, we have left all things and followed you.” We too follow the Lord, and we keep his feast by deeds rather than by words.
- St Athanasius, bishop
This was the way of the saints, who in their lifetime and at every stage of life rejoiced as at a feast. Blessed David, for example, not once but seven times rose at night to win God’s favour through prayer. The great Moses was full of joy as he sang God’s praises in hymns of victory for the defeat of Pharaoh and the oppressors of the Hebrew people. Others had hearts filled always with gladness as they performed their sacred duty of worship, like the great Samuel and the blessed Elijah. Because of their holy lives they gained freedom, and now keep festival in heaven. They rejoice after their pilgrimage in shadows, and now distinguish the reality from the promise.
When we celebrate the feast in our own day, what path are we to take? As we draw near to this feast, who is to be our guide? Beloved, it must be none other than the one whom you will address with me as our Lord Jesus Christ. He says: “I am the way.” As blessed John tells us: it is Christ “who takes away the sin of the world.” It is he who purifies our souls, as the prophet Jeremiah says: “Stand upon the ways; look and see which is the good path, and you will find in it the way of amendment for your souls.”
In former times the blood of goats and the ashes of a calf were sprinkled on those who were unclean, but they were able to purify only the body. Now through the grace of God’s Word everyone is made abundantly clean. If we follow Christ closely we shall be allowed, even on this earth, to stand as it were on the threshold of the heavenly Jerusalem, and enjoy the contemplation of that everlasting feast, like the blessed apostles, who in following the Saviour as their leader, showed, and still show, the way to obtain the same gift from God. They said: “See, we have left all things and followed you.” We too follow the Lord, and we keep his feast by deeds rather than by words.
- St Athanasius, bishop
Sunday, April 10, 2011
You shall love your neighbor as yourself
Here's a portion of Fr Raniero Cantalamessa's third Lenten homily to the Papal household, preached on Apr 8:
"You shall love your neighbor as yourself" was an ancient commandment, written in the law of Moses (Leviticus 19:18) and Jesus himself quotes it as such (Luke 10:27) How than does Jesus call it "his" commandment and the "new" commandment? The answer is that, with him, the object, the subject and the reason for loving one's neighbor have all changed.
First of all the object has changed. In other words: who is the neighbor who must be loved? It is no longer only one's fellow countrymen, or at most the guest who dwells among the people, but every person, including the foreigner (the Samaritan!), even one's enemy. It is true that the second part of the phrase "You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy" (Mt 5:43) is not found literally in the Old Testament, but it does sum up the general approach expressed in the law of retaliation: "eye for eye, tooth for tooth" (Leviticus 24:20), especially if we compare it with what Jesus expects from his disciples:
The subject of the love of neighbor has also changed: the word neighbor now means something else. It is not another person; it is I, it is not the person who is next to me, but the one who comes close. In the parable of the Good Samaritan Jesus shows that there is no need to wait passively for my neighbor to turn up on my path, with lights flashing and sirens blaring. There is no such thing as a ready-made neighbor; there is a neighbor when you decide to come close to that person.
And most of all, the model or measure of the love of neighbor has changed. Until Jesus came, the model was love of self: "as yourself." It has been said that God could not have chosen a more secure peg than this on which to fasten the love of neighbor. He would not have achieved the same result even if he had said: "You shall love your neighbor as you love your God!" because, when it comes to loving God, and understanding what it means to love God, a man can still cheat -- but not where love of self is concerned. We know full well what it means to love ourselves, whatever the circumstances. It is a mirror that is always before us, there is no escape.
And yet there is still an escape, which is why Jesus replaces it with another model and another measure. "This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you" (John 15:12). A person can love himself or herself in the wrong way, can desire evil, not good, can love vice, not virtue. If such a person loves others "as himself" and wants others to have the things he wants for himself, pity the person who is loved in that way! We know, instead, where the love of Jesus leads us: to virtue, to the good, to the Father. Whoever follows him "does not walk in darkness." He has loved us by giving his life for us, while we were still sinners, in other words, enemies (Romans 5:6 ff).
We can now understand what the evangelist John means by his apparently contradictory statement: "My dear friends, this is not a new commandment I am writing to you, but an old commandment that you have had from the beginning; the old commandment is the message which you have heard. Yet in another way I am writing a new commandment for you" (1 John 2:7-8). The commandment of the love of neighbor is "old" in the letter, but "new" with the novelty of the Gospel itself -- because it is no longer just a "law" but also and first of all a "grace." It is founded on communion with Christ, made possible by the gift of the Spirit.
With Jesus there is a move from a two-person relationship: "What the other person does to you, do the same to him," to a three-person relationship: "What God has done to you, do the same to the other person," or, starting from the opposite direction: "What you have done to others is what God will do to you." There are countless sayings of Jesus and the Apostles which repeat this concept: “As God has forgiven you, so you are to forgive one another": "If you do not forgive your enemies from the heart, neither will your Father forgive you." Our excuse is cut off at the root: “But he does not love me, he offends me." That's his business, not yours. The only thing that concerns you is what you do to others and how you behave in face of what others do to you.
But the main question still remains to be answered: why this singular diversion of love from God to one's neighbor? Wouldn't it be more logical to expect: "As I have loved you, so you must love me," rather than: "As I have loved you, so must you love one another"? Here is the difference between love that is purely eros and love which is eros and agape together. Purely erotic love is a closed circle: "Love me, Alfredo, love me as much as I love you": thus sings Violetta in Verdi's Traviata: I love you, you love me. The love of agape is an open circle: it comes from God and returns to Him, but passes through one’s neighbor. Jesus himself inaugurated this new kind of love: "As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you" (John 15:9).
St. Catherine of Siena gave the simplest and most convincing explanation of the reason for this. She puts these words into God's mouth:
"You shall love your neighbor as yourself" was an ancient commandment, written in the law of Moses (Leviticus 19:18) and Jesus himself quotes it as such (Luke 10:27) How than does Jesus call it "his" commandment and the "new" commandment? The answer is that, with him, the object, the subject and the reason for loving one's neighbor have all changed.
First of all the object has changed. In other words: who is the neighbor who must be loved? It is no longer only one's fellow countrymen, or at most the guest who dwells among the people, but every person, including the foreigner (the Samaritan!), even one's enemy. It is true that the second part of the phrase "You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy" (Mt 5:43) is not found literally in the Old Testament, but it does sum up the general approach expressed in the law of retaliation: "eye for eye, tooth for tooth" (Leviticus 24:20), especially if we compare it with what Jesus expects from his disciples:
"But I say this to you: love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the bad as well as the good, and sends down rain on the upright and the wicked alike. For if you love those who love you, what reward can you expect? Do not even the tax collectors do as much? And if you save your greetings for your brothers, are you doing anything exceptional? Do not even the gentiles do as much?" - Matthew 5:44-47
The subject of the love of neighbor has also changed: the word neighbor now means something else. It is not another person; it is I, it is not the person who is next to me, but the one who comes close. In the parable of the Good Samaritan Jesus shows that there is no need to wait passively for my neighbor to turn up on my path, with lights flashing and sirens blaring. There is no such thing as a ready-made neighbor; there is a neighbor when you decide to come close to that person.
And most of all, the model or measure of the love of neighbor has changed. Until Jesus came, the model was love of self: "as yourself." It has been said that God could not have chosen a more secure peg than this on which to fasten the love of neighbor. He would not have achieved the same result even if he had said: "You shall love your neighbor as you love your God!" because, when it comes to loving God, and understanding what it means to love God, a man can still cheat -- but not where love of self is concerned. We know full well what it means to love ourselves, whatever the circumstances. It is a mirror that is always before us, there is no escape.
And yet there is still an escape, which is why Jesus replaces it with another model and another measure. "This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you" (John 15:12). A person can love himself or herself in the wrong way, can desire evil, not good, can love vice, not virtue. If such a person loves others "as himself" and wants others to have the things he wants for himself, pity the person who is loved in that way! We know, instead, where the love of Jesus leads us: to virtue, to the good, to the Father. Whoever follows him "does not walk in darkness." He has loved us by giving his life for us, while we were still sinners, in other words, enemies (Romans 5:6 ff).
We can now understand what the evangelist John means by his apparently contradictory statement: "My dear friends, this is not a new commandment I am writing to you, but an old commandment that you have had from the beginning; the old commandment is the message which you have heard. Yet in another way I am writing a new commandment for you" (1 John 2:7-8). The commandment of the love of neighbor is "old" in the letter, but "new" with the novelty of the Gospel itself -- because it is no longer just a "law" but also and first of all a "grace." It is founded on communion with Christ, made possible by the gift of the Spirit.
With Jesus there is a move from a two-person relationship: "What the other person does to you, do the same to him," to a three-person relationship: "What God has done to you, do the same to the other person," or, starting from the opposite direction: "What you have done to others is what God will do to you." There are countless sayings of Jesus and the Apostles which repeat this concept: “As God has forgiven you, so you are to forgive one another": "If you do not forgive your enemies from the heart, neither will your Father forgive you." Our excuse is cut off at the root: “But he does not love me, he offends me." That's his business, not yours. The only thing that concerns you is what you do to others and how you behave in face of what others do to you.
But the main question still remains to be answered: why this singular diversion of love from God to one's neighbor? Wouldn't it be more logical to expect: "As I have loved you, so you must love me," rather than: "As I have loved you, so must you love one another"? Here is the difference between love that is purely eros and love which is eros and agape together. Purely erotic love is a closed circle: "Love me, Alfredo, love me as much as I love you": thus sings Violetta in Verdi's Traviata: I love you, you love me. The love of agape is an open circle: it comes from God and returns to Him, but passes through one’s neighbor. Jesus himself inaugurated this new kind of love: "As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you" (John 15:9).
St. Catherine of Siena gave the simplest and most convincing explanation of the reason for this. She puts these words into God's mouth:
"I ask you to love me with the same love with which I love you. But this you cannot do for me, because I have loved you without being loved. All the love you have for me is a love of debt, not of grace, in as much as you are obliged to do it, while I love you with the love of grace, not of debt. Hence, you cannot give me the love that I require. Because of this I have placed your neighbor alongside you: so that you may do to him what you cannot do for me, that is, love him without considering whether he deserves it, and without expecting anything in return. And I consider as done to me what you did to him."
Friday, April 8, 2011
Continuing to die to self... (a sharing by Daniel Tham)
I must say my lenten journey started even before Lent began. I was so caught up with a radical lenten idea that I had come up with, a day-by-day, 40 steps lenten journey booklet for my choir. Which means I had read through the gospels of Lent, reflected over them, and come up with an "action item" for my choir for each of the days of Lent. While I think the book could be improved, I think it's been a good journey so far. Though I honestly must admit I can't do my own book as well because well, I designed it and already know what to do. So perhaps, the irony was, the designer of the book can perhaps not fully reap the benefits the other participants of the book could. I don't know, but perhaps I'm just being too spiritually proud here. =(
I've tried to make time for God... It's a struggle each day to die to myself, to accept challenges, to even find time for God. I've noted that my best times for Lauds and Vespers appear to be on public transport to and from work. :( I've noted that other times are spent busy with work or trying to be busy with work, or other pursuits like catching up with people whom I've not had the pleasure of catching up with for some time over FB/MSN, or being the listening ear to someone who suddenly comes out of the blue asking for something - it's happened unusually often this lent for me. This in the midst of trying to see God in my daily life.
Then something happened. A friend of mine caught up with me, and we spent some time just catching up... And she left me with thought provoking words this Lent. While it's true I'm discerning the priesthood, and it's true that the CER perhaps took down a lot of the walls for me and allowed me a beautiful indifference that I can finally begin to appreciate, it's also perhaps time for me to remember to be patient and trust in God's time, because God's time is the best time. So this Lent, while I might not be doing very much, I'm trying my level best to see God in little things.. In actions, in interactions, in my prayer, in my struggling to STAY with the Lord, and just about in dying to my sinful self, of being mindful of my pride, my laziness, my many other flaws... And constantly offering it all to God and asking him to help me become a better person.
This Lent is one that I believe I need to continue to die to myself and just surrender to the great grace of God. As my experience in CER shows, I still thank God for showing me his love, mercy and grace... For filling me with peace, joy and contentment. But baby steps in my faith because I want to build a rock solid foundation for God to build me up on - to do his work, his will, and help build his kingdom.
So as I continue to discern God's calling, I pray for the patience and grace to be docile to the promptings of God's spirit, to do his will and accept it fully - even though at times it challenges me to go beyond my human nature, my human inclination, my limitations. Because I believe, with and through God, anything and everything is possible.
I've tried to make time for God... It's a struggle each day to die to myself, to accept challenges, to even find time for God. I've noted that my best times for Lauds and Vespers appear to be on public transport to and from work. :( I've noted that other times are spent busy with work or trying to be busy with work, or other pursuits like catching up with people whom I've not had the pleasure of catching up with for some time over FB/MSN, or being the listening ear to someone who suddenly comes out of the blue asking for something - it's happened unusually often this lent for me. This in the midst of trying to see God in my daily life.
Then something happened. A friend of mine caught up with me, and we spent some time just catching up... And she left me with thought provoking words this Lent. While it's true I'm discerning the priesthood, and it's true that the CER perhaps took down a lot of the walls for me and allowed me a beautiful indifference that I can finally begin to appreciate, it's also perhaps time for me to remember to be patient and trust in God's time, because God's time is the best time. So this Lent, while I might not be doing very much, I'm trying my level best to see God in little things.. In actions, in interactions, in my prayer, in my struggling to STAY with the Lord, and just about in dying to my sinful self, of being mindful of my pride, my laziness, my many other flaws... And constantly offering it all to God and asking him to help me become a better person.
This Lent is one that I believe I need to continue to die to myself and just surrender to the great grace of God. As my experience in CER shows, I still thank God for showing me his love, mercy and grace... For filling me with peace, joy and contentment. But baby steps in my faith because I want to build a rock solid foundation for God to build me up on - to do his work, his will, and help build his kingdom.
So as I continue to discern God's calling, I pray for the patience and grace to be docile to the promptings of God's spirit, to do his will and accept it fully - even though at times it challenges me to go beyond my human nature, my human inclination, my limitations. Because I believe, with and through God, anything and everything is possible.
Contemplating the Lord's passion
True reverence for the Lord’s passion means fixing the eyes of our heart on Jesus crucified and recognising in him our own humanity.
No one, however weak, is denied a share in the victory of the cross. No one is beyond the help of the prayer of Christ. His prayer brought benefit to the multitude that raged against him. How much more does it bring to those who turn to him in repentance.
The business of this life should not preoccupy us with its anxiety and pride, so that we no longer strive with all the love of our heart to be like our Redeemer, and to follow his example. Everything that he did or suffered was for our salvation: he wanted his body to share the goodness of its head.
First of all, in taking our human nature while remaining God, so that the Word became man, he left no member of the human race, the unbeliever excepted, without a share in his mercy. Who does not share a common nature with Christ if he has welcomed Christ, who took our nature, and is reborn in the Spirit through whom Christ was conceived?
Again, who cannot recognise in Christ his own infirmities? Who would not recognise that Christ’s eating and sleeping, his sadness and his shedding of tears of love are marks of the nature of a slave?
It was this nature of a slave that had to be healed of its ancient wounds and cleansed of the defilement of sin. For that reason the only-begotten Son of God became also the son of man. He was to have both the reality of a human nature and the fullness of the godhead.
The body that lay lifeless in the tomb is ours. The body that rose again on the third day is ours. The body that ascended above all the heights of heaven to the right hand of the Father’s glory is ours. If then we walk in the way of his commandments, and are not ashamed to acknowledge the price he paid for our salvation in a lowly body, we too are to rise to share his glory. The promise he made will be fulfilled in the sight of all: Whoever acknowledges me before men, I too will acknowledge him before my Father who is in heaven.
- Pope St Leo the Great
No one, however weak, is denied a share in the victory of the cross. No one is beyond the help of the prayer of Christ. His prayer brought benefit to the multitude that raged against him. How much more does it bring to those who turn to him in repentance.
The business of this life should not preoccupy us with its anxiety and pride, so that we no longer strive with all the love of our heart to be like our Redeemer, and to follow his example. Everything that he did or suffered was for our salvation: he wanted his body to share the goodness of its head.
First of all, in taking our human nature while remaining God, so that the Word became man, he left no member of the human race, the unbeliever excepted, without a share in his mercy. Who does not share a common nature with Christ if he has welcomed Christ, who took our nature, and is reborn in the Spirit through whom Christ was conceived?
Again, who cannot recognise in Christ his own infirmities? Who would not recognise that Christ’s eating and sleeping, his sadness and his shedding of tears of love are marks of the nature of a slave?
It was this nature of a slave that had to be healed of its ancient wounds and cleansed of the defilement of sin. For that reason the only-begotten Son of God became also the son of man. He was to have both the reality of a human nature and the fullness of the godhead.
The body that lay lifeless in the tomb is ours. The body that rose again on the third day is ours. The body that ascended above all the heights of heaven to the right hand of the Father’s glory is ours. If then we walk in the way of his commandments, and are not ashamed to acknowledge the price he paid for our salvation in a lowly body, we too are to rise to share his glory. The promise he made will be fulfilled in the sight of all: Whoever acknowledges me before men, I too will acknowledge him before my Father who is in heaven.
- Pope St Leo the Great
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
The mercy of God to the penitent
God’s will is to save us, and nothing pleases him more than our coming back to him with true repentance. The heralds of truth and the ministers of divine grace have told us this from the beginning, repeating it in every age.
Indeed, God’s desire for our salvation is the primary and pre-eminent sign of his infinite goodness. Precisely in order to show that there is nothing closer to God’s heart than this, the divine Word of God the Father, with untold condescension, lived among us in the flesh, and did, suffered, and said all that was necessary to reconcile us to God the Father, when we were at enmity with him, and to restore us to the life of blessedness from which we had been exiled.
He healed our physical infirmities by miracles; he freed us from our sins, many and grievous as they were, by suffering and dying, taking them upon himself as if he were answerable for them, sinless though he was. He also taught us in many different ways that we should wish to imitate him by our own kindness and genuine love for one another.
So it was that Christ proclaimed that he had come to call sinners to repentance, not the righteous, and that it was not the healthy who required a doctor, but the sick. He declared that he had come to look for the sheep that was lost, and that it was to the lost sheep of the house of Israel that he had been sent. Speaking more obscurely in the parable of the silver coin, he tells us that the purpose of his coming was to reclaim the royal image, which had been coated with the filth of sin. “You can be sure there is joy in heaven’, he said, over one sinner who repents.
To give the same lesson he revived the man who, having fallen into the hands of the brigands, had been left stripped and half-dead from his wounds; he poured wine and oil on the wounds, bandaged them, placed the man on his own mule and brought him to an inn, where he left sufficient money to have him cared for, and promised to repay any further expense on his return.
Again, he told of how that Father, who is goodness itself, was moved with pity for his profligate son who returned and made amends by repentance; how he embraced him, dressed him once more in the fine garments that befitted his own dignity, and did not reproach him for any of his sins.
So too, when he found wandering in the mountains and hills the one sheep that had strayed from God’s flock of a hundred, he brought it back to the fold, but he did not exhaust it by driving it ahead of him. Instead, he placed it on his own shoulders and so, compassionately, he restored it safely to the flock.
So also he cried out: Come to me, all you that toil and are heavy of heart. Accept my yoke’, he said, by which he meant his commands, or rather, the whole way of life that he taught us in the Gospel. He then speaks of a burden, but that is only because repentance seems difficult. In fact, however, my yoke is easy, he assures us, and my burden is light.
Then again he instructs us in divine justice and goodness, telling us to be like our heavenly Father, holy, perfect and merciful. Forgive, he says, and you will be forgiven. Behave toward other people as you would wish them to behave toward you.
- From a letter by St Maximus the Confessor
Indeed, God’s desire for our salvation is the primary and pre-eminent sign of his infinite goodness. Precisely in order to show that there is nothing closer to God’s heart than this, the divine Word of God the Father, with untold condescension, lived among us in the flesh, and did, suffered, and said all that was necessary to reconcile us to God the Father, when we were at enmity with him, and to restore us to the life of blessedness from which we had been exiled.
He healed our physical infirmities by miracles; he freed us from our sins, many and grievous as they were, by suffering and dying, taking them upon himself as if he were answerable for them, sinless though he was. He also taught us in many different ways that we should wish to imitate him by our own kindness and genuine love for one another.
So it was that Christ proclaimed that he had come to call sinners to repentance, not the righteous, and that it was not the healthy who required a doctor, but the sick. He declared that he had come to look for the sheep that was lost, and that it was to the lost sheep of the house of Israel that he had been sent. Speaking more obscurely in the parable of the silver coin, he tells us that the purpose of his coming was to reclaim the royal image, which had been coated with the filth of sin. “You can be sure there is joy in heaven’, he said, over one sinner who repents.
To give the same lesson he revived the man who, having fallen into the hands of the brigands, had been left stripped and half-dead from his wounds; he poured wine and oil on the wounds, bandaged them, placed the man on his own mule and brought him to an inn, where he left sufficient money to have him cared for, and promised to repay any further expense on his return.
Again, he told of how that Father, who is goodness itself, was moved with pity for his profligate son who returned and made amends by repentance; how he embraced him, dressed him once more in the fine garments that befitted his own dignity, and did not reproach him for any of his sins.
So too, when he found wandering in the mountains and hills the one sheep that had strayed from God’s flock of a hundred, he brought it back to the fold, but he did not exhaust it by driving it ahead of him. Instead, he placed it on his own shoulders and so, compassionately, he restored it safely to the flock.
So also he cried out: Come to me, all you that toil and are heavy of heart. Accept my yoke’, he said, by which he meant his commands, or rather, the whole way of life that he taught us in the Gospel. He then speaks of a burden, but that is only because repentance seems difficult. In fact, however, my yoke is easy, he assures us, and my burden is light.
Then again he instructs us in divine justice and goodness, telling us to be like our heavenly Father, holy, perfect and merciful. Forgive, he says, and you will be forgiven. Behave toward other people as you would wish them to behave toward you.
- From a letter by St Maximus the Confessor
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
My own world (a sharing by Lynette Chen)
"His blindness has nothing to do with his sins or parent's sin. He is blind so that God's power might be seen at work." - John 9: 1-41
This struck me the whole evening yesterday. When I heard it at mass, I felt God was talking to me. Blindness is something negative and how this blindness relate to me was that I kind of feel I am a lousy person, not able to handle my life well, just felt negative about myself probably all these can be led to sinning. However this verse assured me that I am born this way to show the goodness that God has showered on me. It is nothing wrong to be who I am I am now. I am a human and there is nothing wrong if I sin but must repent even if I kept failing.
I feel that I am kind of engulfed totally into the world of my own and in this world just revolves around career (work, school), personal pleasure, money. Once a while I will come out of the world when being called to but eventually slipped back into the world of my own. In this world of my own, at first it seemed to be still under controlled but started to be uncontrolled. One example was that I lost control and scolded my patient. She was just screaming away for the physio therapist to go over to her while I was trying to explain something to another patient and my physio therapist already told her to hang on as he was attending to another patient too. I was not able to keep my cool and appearently one relative, one colleague and of course the physio heard me. I was not remoseful and thought that it was great of me because never have I lost my cool before at work. Those that heard me actually was on my side and felt nothing wrong about it but as a child of God it's totally wrong. If they can see how it was able to handle her peacefully, it would really portray God's love and patience for sinners.
I was reflecting why am I working my guts out? Missing break times, staying back till I complete, taking my time to do what ought to be done slow..What's the point? What's the point? What's the point? Whatever I am sacrificing just does not tally with the pay I am getting or job satisfaction. I asked myself repeatedly what's the meaning? I realised the meaning that it was not a job just for the money or glamour or noble but it's for Him. He calls me to treat each patient as my loved ones as He loves them so much too. That's why I have been able to keep my cool so far and trying my best to go all out and that's why I have caregiver stress.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Christ gives strength to conquer evil through grace of Baptism
Pope Benedict said that an illustration of this joy can be found in the story of the blind man healed by Jesus in the Sunday reading from the Gospel of John. The blind man not only gains his physical sight but comes to believe in Christ.
Everyone, “due to the sin of Adam were born 'blind,' but in the baptismal font we were illuminated by the grace of Christ,” he said. “Sin wounded humanity and destined it to the darkness of death, but in Christ shines the newness of life and the goal to which we are called.”
“In Him,” the Pope said, “reinvigorated by the Holy Spirit, we receive the strength to conquer evil and do good.”
The Pope pointed out that in the Gospel reading, those within the narrative have starkly different reactions to the miracle. The blind man himself goes through a gradual “walk of faith.” He meets Jesus who heals him, considers him a prophet, then his spiritual “eyes” are opened to see Christ as the Son of God.
However, the Pharisees do not accept the miracle as they do not accept Jesus as the Messiah and the once blind man's parents are now fearful of judgment.
The Pope asked, “what attitude do we assume before Jesus?”
“Christian life,” he said, “is a continuous conformation to Christ, the image of the new man, to reach a full communion with God. The Lord Jesus is 'the light of the world,' because in Him 'shines the knowledge of the glory of God' which continues to reveal the sense of human existence in the complex storyline of history.”
Everyone, “due to the sin of Adam were born 'blind,' but in the baptismal font we were illuminated by the grace of Christ,” he said. “Sin wounded humanity and destined it to the darkness of death, but in Christ shines the newness of life and the goal to which we are called.”
“In Him,” the Pope said, “reinvigorated by the Holy Spirit, we receive the strength to conquer evil and do good.”
The Pope pointed out that in the Gospel reading, those within the narrative have starkly different reactions to the miracle. The blind man himself goes through a gradual “walk of faith.” He meets Jesus who heals him, considers him a prophet, then his spiritual “eyes” are opened to see Christ as the Son of God.
However, the Pharisees do not accept the miracle as they do not accept Jesus as the Messiah and the once blind man's parents are now fearful of judgment.
The Pope asked, “what attitude do we assume before Jesus?”
“Christian life,” he said, “is a continuous conformation to Christ, the image of the new man, to reach a full communion with God. The Lord Jesus is 'the light of the world,' because in Him 'shines the knowledge of the glory of God' which continues to reveal the sense of human existence in the complex storyline of history.”
Prayer of St Patrick
As I arise today,
May the strength of God pilot me,
The power of God uphold me,
The wisdom of God guide me.
May the eye of God look before me,
The ear of God hear me,
The word of God speak for me.
May the hand of God protect me,
The way of God lie before me,
The shield of God defend me,
The host of God save me.
May Christ shield me today.
Christ with me,
Christ before me,
Christ behind me,
Christ in me,
Christ beneath me,
Christ above me,
Christ on my right,
Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down,
Christ when I sit,
Christ when I stand,
Christ in the heart of everyone who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,
Christ in every eye that sees me,
Christ in every ear that hears me.
Amen.
- St Patrick of Ireland, Bishop and Missionary
May the strength of God pilot me,
The power of God uphold me,
The wisdom of God guide me.
May the eye of God look before me,
The ear of God hear me,
The word of God speak for me.
May the hand of God protect me,
The way of God lie before me,
The shield of God defend me,
The host of God save me.
May Christ shield me today.
Christ with me,
Christ before me,
Christ behind me,
Christ in me,
Christ beneath me,
Christ above me,
Christ on my right,
Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down,
Christ when I sit,
Christ when I stand,
Christ in the heart of everyone who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,
Christ in every eye that sees me,
Christ in every ear that hears me.
Amen.
- St Patrick of Ireland, Bishop and Missionary
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Christ is the way to the light, the truth and the life
Happy fourth Sunday of Lent. Here's something by St Augustine to help kickstart your last 18 days in Lent:
The Lord tells us: I am the light of the world; he who follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life. In these few words he gives a command and makes a promise. Let us do what he commands so that we may not blush to covet what he promises and to hear him say on the day of judgement: “I laid down certain conditions for obtaining my promises. Have you fulfilled them?” If you say: “What did you command, Lord our God?” he will tell you: “I commanded you to follow me. You asked for advice on how to enter into life. What life, if not the life about which it is written: With you is the fountain of life?”
Let us do now what he commands. Let us follow in the footsteps of the Lord. Let us throw off the chains that prevent us from following him. Who can throw off these shackles without the aid of the one addressed in these words: You have broken my chains? Another psalm says of him: The Lord frees those in chains, the Lord raises up the downcast.
Those who have been freed and raised up follow the light. The light they follow speaks to them: I am the light of the world; he who follows me will not walk in darkness. The Lord gives light to the blind. Brethren, that light shines on us now, for we have had our eyes anointed with the eye-salve of faith. His saliva was mixed with earth to anoint the man born blind. We are of Adam’s stock, blind from our birth; we need him to give us light. He mixed saliva with earth, and so it was prophesied: Truth has sprung up from the earth. He himself has said: I am the way, the truth and the life.
We shall be in possession of the truth when we see face to face. This is his promise to us. Who would dare to hope for something that God in his goodness did not choose to promise or bestow?
We shall see face to face. The Apostle says: Now I know in part, now obscurely through a mirror, but then face to face. John the Apostle says in one of his letters: Dearly beloved, we are now children of God, and it has not yet been revealed what we shall be. We know that when he is revealed we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is. This is a great promise.
If you love me, follow me. “I do love you,” you protest, “but how do I follow you?” If the Lord your God said to you: “I am the truth and the life,” in your desire for truth, in your love for life, you would certainly ask him to show you the way to reach them. You would say to yourself: “Truth is a great reality, life is a great reality; if only it were possible for my soul to find them!”
The Lord tells us: I am the light of the world; he who follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life. In these few words he gives a command and makes a promise. Let us do what he commands so that we may not blush to covet what he promises and to hear him say on the day of judgement: “I laid down certain conditions for obtaining my promises. Have you fulfilled them?” If you say: “What did you command, Lord our God?” he will tell you: “I commanded you to follow me. You asked for advice on how to enter into life. What life, if not the life about which it is written: With you is the fountain of life?”
Let us do now what he commands. Let us follow in the footsteps of the Lord. Let us throw off the chains that prevent us from following him. Who can throw off these shackles without the aid of the one addressed in these words: You have broken my chains? Another psalm says of him: The Lord frees those in chains, the Lord raises up the downcast.
Those who have been freed and raised up follow the light. The light they follow speaks to them: I am the light of the world; he who follows me will not walk in darkness. The Lord gives light to the blind. Brethren, that light shines on us now, for we have had our eyes anointed with the eye-salve of faith. His saliva was mixed with earth to anoint the man born blind. We are of Adam’s stock, blind from our birth; we need him to give us light. He mixed saliva with earth, and so it was prophesied: Truth has sprung up from the earth. He himself has said: I am the way, the truth and the life.
We shall be in possession of the truth when we see face to face. This is his promise to us. Who would dare to hope for something that God in his goodness did not choose to promise or bestow?
We shall see face to face. The Apostle says: Now I know in part, now obscurely through a mirror, but then face to face. John the Apostle says in one of his letters: Dearly beloved, we are now children of God, and it has not yet been revealed what we shall be. We know that when he is revealed we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is. This is a great promise.
If you love me, follow me. “I do love you,” you protest, “but how do I follow you?” If the Lord your God said to you: “I am the truth and the life,” in your desire for truth, in your love for life, you would certainly ask him to show you the way to reach them. You would say to yourself: “Truth is a great reality, life is a great reality; if only it were possible for my soul to find them!”
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Loving your enemies
Loving your enemies and praying for those who persecute you is hard. In my life I've found it probably the most difficult thing to do as a Christian. Many years ago, for example, I lived with someone who simply refused to talk to me. He despised me. And I couldn't figure out why and efforts at reconciliation failed miserably. No matter what I did, nothing changed his attitude.
Over the course of many years, in light of that experience, and in light of meditating on the Gospels, I realized three things about loving your enemies.
First of all, some people may simply dislike you. So it's useless to try to "get" them to like you, much less to love you. It's useless to try to change them. You can be open to reconciliation, but you have no control over whether someone will reconcile with you. Part of this process is embracing your own powerlessness. Letting go is paramount.
Second, turning away from insults, hatred and contempt and "offering the other cheek" is emotionally healthy. Now, some schools of psychology say that you should always give vent to anger (rather than let it fester) but always responding with vituperation or vengefulness is rather a childish thing to do. Only a baby gives vent to his or her anger all the time. You can acknowledge your anger, perhaps express frustration you have in a calm way, but you don't have to respond in kind. Basically, and to put it less elegantly than Jesus, if your enemy behaves like a jerk toward you, there's no reason you have to act like a jerk toward him.
Third, loving your enemies and praying for those who persecute you is liberating. Too often we can find ourselves in pitched battles with the people who hate us, always seeking the upper hand, always noting who's up and who's down, always analyzing every slight. You see this in families and even in office environments, where people are trapped into cycles of vengefulness. It wears both parties down and dehumanizes everyone involved.
So what Jesus is telling us is hard, but it's not impossible. And it's necessary, too, because ultimately he is inviting us not only to forgiveness and charity but to something else: freedom and happiness. So you have heard that it was said, and you have heard that it was said to you by Jesus, who wants you to be happy.
Thanks to Fr James Martin, SJ, for the Huffington Post.
Over the course of many years, in light of that experience, and in light of meditating on the Gospels, I realized three things about loving your enemies.
First of all, some people may simply dislike you. So it's useless to try to "get" them to like you, much less to love you. It's useless to try to change them. You can be open to reconciliation, but you have no control over whether someone will reconcile with you. Part of this process is embracing your own powerlessness. Letting go is paramount.
Second, turning away from insults, hatred and contempt and "offering the other cheek" is emotionally healthy. Now, some schools of psychology say that you should always give vent to anger (rather than let it fester) but always responding with vituperation or vengefulness is rather a childish thing to do. Only a baby gives vent to his or her anger all the time. You can acknowledge your anger, perhaps express frustration you have in a calm way, but you don't have to respond in kind. Basically, and to put it less elegantly than Jesus, if your enemy behaves like a jerk toward you, there's no reason you have to act like a jerk toward him.
Third, loving your enemies and praying for those who persecute you is liberating. Too often we can find ourselves in pitched battles with the people who hate us, always seeking the upper hand, always noting who's up and who's down, always analyzing every slight. You see this in families and even in office environments, where people are trapped into cycles of vengefulness. It wears both parties down and dehumanizes everyone involved.
So what Jesus is telling us is hard, but it's not impossible. And it's necessary, too, because ultimately he is inviting us not only to forgiveness and charity but to something else: freedom and happiness. So you have heard that it was said, and you have heard that it was said to you by Jesus, who wants you to be happy.
Thanks to Fr James Martin, SJ, for the Huffington Post.
Friday, April 1, 2011
Distractions (a sharing by Lynette Chen)
... [Since] Lent started, I am still not able to really focus on Christ. Till now there are a lot a lot of interruption that has drawn me away from Him. Work is very, very stressful these days and all I want to do is sleep when I am home. School assignment is due very soon and I just want more time to complete it. All these excuses are stopping me from willingly wanting to read the bible and pray. I have been forcing myself to do it. However I am glad at least I have been able to keep to the promise to go for adoration one hour per week, one weekday mass and abstinence, definitely with great temptations surrounding me.
The greatest difficultly [for me] is my stubbornness to let go. There is a temptation that has been telling me to hold on to something till you see or hear, [even though] there are already a lot of signs which I believe is from God to tell me to stop being so stubborn. It's as if, unless until I see Jesus on the cross, I won't believe He loves me. In this sense, I feel I have doubted God in knowing what is the best for me and wants to be in control. I realise that holding on actually hurts more than letting it go.
I am asking God to help me stop doing anything to save the situation but just to leave it in His hands. There is nothing I can do actually but just pray and I feel this is the only thing that God wants me to do.
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