Age of Reason

Several days ago I posted a story that I think made national headlines. I know that a week ago Monday it hit every local NEWS station's site, and that Wednesday, there was FINALLY video of this, probably because of the utter hilarity of the crime of goat rustling and WHO committed it, while wearing...PAJAMAS.
I love this story but not just because it's, well...hilarious....but because it reveals so much about the intelligence and awareness of children. That intelligence and more importantly, AWARENESS, is exactly why Pope St. Pius X allowed children of "the age of reason",  usually figured to be about age 7, to receive Holy Communion, and therefore, the Sacrament of Confession.

Why? Because at that age, children can discern the Body and Blood. They are aware of Sin, of what that means, how it separates them from God, and they are most importantly aware of the fact that He gives Himself to them, in pure innocence, at the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.

No, they don't understand all the reasoning of 4,000 years or more of Judeo-Christian philosophy and theology, but they sure do know what is required to steal a goat and they know enough to try to hide their crime by lying about what they did.

Even more importantly, they sure do know that stealing a goat is WRONG or they wouldn't have, at the age of 5 and 7, escaped their home with a very viable plan, with a leash, walked a mile or so to a farm, liberated a goat, leashed it, and walked it home, then lied to the police officer who confronted them.

Should Children Receive the Sacrament of Confession?

In my parish work, I have become aware of a number of local parishes that do not offer First Reconciliation before First Holy Communion.  Their reasoning:  children can't possibly commit mortal sin. Children don't understand sin and their "sins" aren't really sins because children don't understand what is wrong and why.

Hmmm...there's so much wrong with this, and yes, I'm going to talk about it, but first, let me tell you a little story.

Oh, the webs we weave, when first we practice to deceive....

When I was about 4 years old, I spent the morning in our little country neighborhood playing with my friends down the road. When it was time, I went home for lunch, having made solid plans to return to my friend's house to continue playing the afternoon away.

To my surprise and horror, Mom told me that no; I wouldn't be going out to play. I would be taking a nap.  Of course I thew a fit becuase I was both wide awake and wanted to PLAY! Well, of course, me being 4 and Mom being Mom, she won that argument and sent me to my room, but you see, there's a bit more to this story...

As I sulkily ate my lunch, punishing Mom with my pouting silence, I came up with a plan to make Mom THINK I was napping, but I was REALLY going to go play with my friends. I was going to choose adventure and fun over obedience.

When I finished lunch, I (apparently) obediently went to my room, found one of my dolls, and placed her in my bed. You see, Mom always commented on that particular doll and how much her hair resembled mine. And I ALWAYS slept with covers over my head, even on hot summer days like that particular one, so it wasn't odd for me to cover my head but still leave a bit of hair poked out. I knew Mom would "check in" on me during my "nap", so I made sure to rustle the bedcovering a little. I think I even changed my shoes so she'd see a pair by my bed as though I'd kicked them off before climbing in.

Quickly, I opened my bedroom window, opened the screen (something my brother had recently shown me how to do), made sure there were no spiders as that was the ONLY thing that would keep me inside, and seeing that the coast was clear, I climbed out, closed the screen behind me, leaving it cracked just enough so I could open it again when I got back, and snuck around the house remaining below the windows to avoid being seen.

I spent a few hours with my friends, blissfully playing, but unfortunately, we got into a fight. I ended up stomping home, steaming mad, and because I was so angry, I completely forgot about my plan of escape and return. As such I burst through the front door, stood in the kitchen, hands on my hips and announced that I was NEVER going to play with D. and J. EVER AGAIN!

I can still see my Mom standing in the kitchen, wiping her hands off on a dishtowel, staring at me in shock and growing anger.

"I thought you were taking a nap!"

Uh oh!   I can still remember the sense of horror that I had just exposed my very big lie.

I actually tried to race to my room ahead of Mom to erase the evidence, but predictably, she beat me to it, tore back the covers and exposed the deception and disobedience.

That was the first time I was ever grounded.  I was four years old.

Let's Break This Down

I know that some of you reading this will first question my age - four years old, running around the neighborhood?  Yup, that's right, and no exaggeration. I'd been free to run around at about the age of 3, within limits. Our home was surrounded by retired couples and stay at home moms who knew all of us and where we were allowed to go and when. My friends lived the equivalent of a block from my house and we all knew to watch for traffic on the gravel that only served our immediate homes.  Besides, times were very different then and there wasn't a lot of crime in our sleeply little town, and certainly not in our immediate neighborhood.

So, that objection handled, let's talk about a child's ability to reason.

1. I knew that I was disobeying my mother, and willfully so. Proof:  I hid my crime and deliberately pretended to obey by going to take my "nap" without argument once Mom refused to give in. (Premeditation)

2. I went to great lengths to plan how to hide my disobedience, to include the return trip of climbing back in the window.  (Deliberation)

3. I knew that if Mom discovered my deception, I'd be in BIG BIG trouble, but I did it anyway. (full knowledge that what I was doing wrong, consent to do it anyway)

What are the three elements of mortal sin?  According to paragraph 1857 of the Catechism of the Catholic Church, a mortal sin must be an objectively grave matter, committed with full knowledge and consent.

Now, I will not say that my sin that day (or rather, slippery slope of many sins) was mortal, for the simple act of disobedience, no matter how complexly I went about it, is not normally a "grave matter", especially for a four year old. However, I would argue that it was sufficiently grave especially considering my age, the danger I could have been in, and the fact that one intent to disobey led to a whole host of other sins, including the fight with my friends which ultimately ended our friendship. (That's a long story and I don't want to tattle!)

Can children commit mortal sin? Yes, I would argue that they can. Usually, though, the fact they don't have sufficient knowledge and certainly can't reason through the consequence of their actions even if they can reason the concrete "how" to commit them, prevents them from meeting the definition of "mortal sin".

Always, though, when I speak with someone who advocates a more mature age for First Confession, if they argue on the grounds that "children aren't capable of mortal sin", I query, "Why would you wait to teach them about right, wrong, and sin when they ARE capable of doing something that grave?"  Seriously...wouldn't that be like closing the barn door when the horses have already escaped?

For some reason, some adults of a certain age have no problem telling their children about right and wrong and even mete out punishments and corrections as they grow, but when it comes to Confession, they balk and say, "Oh, my kids can't really sin." 

Except they do, all the time, and they are AWARE of it - but they need US to teach them what sin is and how that affects their relationship with God...and with others. How are they ever to learn about consequences if consequences aren't taught? Children know how to choose what is right, and they do THAT all the time, too, and understand that if they obey here, there are good consequences that follow, and that reinforces their good behavior. That's even basic psychology!

Confession, though, also teaches children how to identify their sins, how to correct them, and learn the consequences, not just in this life, but for the next.

And you know what? Children really really love Jesus a great deal, and they want to please Him, they want to be right with Him, and that want that deep, personal relationship with Him.

Still, there's one other thing we can't miss when talking about the Sacraments:  Grace.

Not only do children need to learn how to identify sin and take responsibility for it, but they need that final revelation that SINS CAN BE FORGIVEN! Remember:  God never reveals sin without revealing His Mercy.

Children can learn that, and not just learn it, but EXPERIENCE it, and then, in the Sacrament of Confession, receive the Grace to be strengthened against temptation, to be guided in learning to live in Christ. They can be placed on the path to Sainthood and perhaps, learn to never commit a mortal sin!

Dare we hope for such Grace? And why not? God freely OFFERS it!

Certainly, people can argue all day long about whether or not children can commit mortal sin, but when it comes to the mysterious workings of God's Grace in the soul, that's where the argument ends.

Why would we ever want to risk a child's eternal soul by denying them the Grace of the Sacrament of Reconciliation, especially, and properly, before they receive Our Lord's Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity in their First Holy Communion?



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Praying with A Broken Rosary

On Good Friday, my favorite rosary broke. This rosary is special to me for several reasons and I find the timing of its demise to be especially ironic. You see, this rosary is one that comes in the mail from this or that charity seeking donations. But it's important because it came into my hands a little over three years ago when I prayed to soon-to-be Blessed John Paul II for his intercession in a certain matter - and it happens to have the crucifix from his pontificate. It was also blessed by a friend of mine and is thus a reminder to always include that particular priest in my prayers.

And now, it is broken, and in fact, broke on the day we began the Divine Mercy novena; how apt a sign it is for the present condition of my spiritual life. How apt that this particular rosary would break, now, as we rejoice in a new Blessed, the one whose image is borne on one side of the medal of this rosary. Oh, yes, this is my JPII rosary all the way.

I have found, though, that the inconvenience of its broken chain in the middle of the 5th Mystery makes me ponder a bit more about the love of God for us, our own spiritual condition before Him, and the depths of His infinite mercy.

This rosary is not beyond repair by any means, but it is not something I can fix on my own. I need help to do it. I have to take it to someone else. Do you see the metaphor? So it is when we fall into sin, we cannot absolve ourselves; we must go to someone else in order to be reconciled to God. The rosary may still be prayed, and each time I encounter the premature end, I am reminded of the chasm that exists between God and me.  That break is a physical reminder that I must take my own broken soul to Our Lord, place it into His loving hands and allow Him to give it back to me, restored once again.

Even though we are all broken in some way, we must always pray. There is always hope, there is always God's mercy if we but ask in humility and sincerity.

Eternal Father, I offer you the body, blood, soul, and divinity, of your dearly beloved Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, in atonement for our sins and those of the whole world. For the sake of His sorrowful Passion, have Mercy on us and on the whole world!

Holy God, Holy Mighty One, Holy Immortal One, have Mercy on us and on the whole world. 

Jesus I trust in Thee! 

True Piety

One of the dangers of the spiritual life is to give in to the temptation to compare oneself with others, and that temptation may be especially prevalent during Lent.

Last week I heard an insightful homily regarding outward acts of piety. The priest observed that there are some who seem to have deep spiritual lives, but what they do outwardly is actually covering up for a very deep interior wound. To take it further, he observed that there are those who are ever-ready and ever-armed with liturgical, or other books, and prepared to leap upon the smallest error in the liturgy - yet this isn't really their issue. He surmises that there is something deeper there, covered by the outward anger and vigilance.

To be clear, he was not saying that outward piety was a bad thing or that we do not have a right to a properly celebrated liturgy. Rather, his point was very simple: do not look merely upon outward acts and assume that is the whole story.

All of us are carrying about deep wounds, some bleeding, some scars, and we do different things to cover them up so that others cannot see. This is why we need the Confessional, for there we can bare our souls to the Divine Physician. This is why we need prayer, for there we can bring our spiritual torments to the only One who understands how to make us complete.

It is a temptation to look at the lives of others, and their pious acts, and try to compare ourselves to them. In Lent, it is a temptation to compare our failings to the claimed or visible "successes" of others and conclude that for us, Lent has been a failure.

Do not give in to this temptation!

We cannot judge the souls of others, good or bad. We cannot see if their piety is only outward, hiding a seething mass of anxiety or sin. We cannot see if someone's anger, off-putting in appearance, may truly be fueled by a life of holiness.

It is said that Blessed Mother Teresa was a hard woman, yet there is no doubt about her holiness. They say the light of God just shone through her. Yet we also know how she struggled in years of spiritual darkness. Her outward smiles, her ability to care for and love others, her ability to pray, outwardly, told us only a little about her.

There are many Saints whose flaws were apparent to all, and yet, they lived lives of deep devotion and holiness. There's no such thing as a "cookie-cutter" saint, a Saint that ran around on tiptoes, hands open, floating along on clouds of devotion.

It may be tempting to look at this or that person who spends hours in the chapel and claims to fast and pray constantly, and seek to be like them, but this is one of the biggest spiritual mistakes anyone can make. Do not be "like someone else." Be who YOU are - fully - in the face of God.

During Lent we are called to acts of penance, abstinence, fasting, and alms, and each of us does this with some degree of success or failure. The litmus test before God is not one of comparison with others, but resides entirely in our own relationship with God - and with His Church.

Every Saint became a Saint simply because he or she knew him or herself in relation to God, and responded by being fully who they were called to be. They were all human and had human flaws, but in true piety, they never gave up seeking the face of God. They never gave up falling before His Throne in prayer, humility, and obedience. They did not try to copy someone else, or compare themselves to the Saints that had gone before them. Instead, they brought everything they were, from personality to temperament, to favorite sins and passions, to favorite devotions and, above all, their love for Christ - and they were transformed, little by little, so that they could become holy as their Father in heaven is Holy.

That's true piety. That is what makes a Saint.

Do not get caught up in the sin of spiritual comparison. In the spirit and advice of the Saints, assume the best of those you meet, look always to the example of Christ, and always continue onward, for it is He who awaits your love and devotion. It is He who thirsts for you. The world does not suffer from too many Saints; it suffers from not having enough.

Grace in Humiliation

I gotta admit it; I am terrified to pray for the virtue of humility.

Why?

Every time I made the attempt, I was knocked so hard on my backside that to THIS DAY I still have not been able to recover! Just mention "humility" and I begin to shake and shudder and drool then foam at the mouth in sheer terror in anticipation of what anvil is next to drop.

God, of course, cannot be taken by surprise and so, in seeing such sheer terror, He finds other ways to reveal to us the true nature of humility, and in fact, finds gentle humiliations in order to best reveal to us the divine Grace available through such abjection.

The Unwitting Act of Offense

Recently, in a conversation with others, something I said was misconstrued. I did not know at the time that what I was trying to convey was being taken into left field without my permission or intention, but there it was; that is the nature of human interaction. I remember catching the expressions on a couple of those present and wondered about what bad thing they were smelling, but as they never pulled me aside to explain that I was the source of their sour expressions, I ultimately thought nothing of it.

A few days later, a friend who had been absent that day left me a voice mail, asking for a call back, explaining that party A and B (the same ones who had housed sour expressions) had spoken with her and said that I had dropped her name a few times but not in a pleasant way.

Completely taken aback, I hung up the phone and prayed. I recalled mentioning her name, but NEVER in a derogatory way. I racked my memory, trying to ascertain what had gone so wrong for some people to have taken my intention so badly.

Of course, I immediately called her back to ask what she had heard, and I was thankful that she did not sound angry, only....questioning. In fact, her own tone was joyful, forgiving and welcoming, not contrived but in total sincerity.

It didn't take long to sort out the misunderstanding and as it turned out, she completely understood my original intention and, in fact, AGREED with me!  We had a wonderful conversation, and, a few days later when we met again, she made it a point to seek me out to thank me for calling her back to reconcile the issue.

Humiliation

When I'd first heard of what others I'd thought were friends had accused me of doing (behind my back) I had felt very betrayed.  I wondered...why hadn't they just come to me or called me out on the spot?

Why?  Why didn't they ask me to clarify or even, if they were such good friends to that person, "stood up" for her if they thought I was insulting her?

I was taken aback that they had instead chosen to be subversive, both assuming the worst of me and my intentions, then apparently through their own actions, making it worse through gossip?  And wasn't their own indignant refusal to engage with me, the offender, an outright betrayal to THEIR friend?

It was in speaking with the "allegedly offended" friend and the subsequent reconciliation that I realized the Grace God had provided to us both, especially when we were in each other's company again.

Real Grace

When I had time to reflect upon the events of the previous days, and the links and even disunity in our relationships, I knew that what we had experienced wasn't anything new or rare or novel; it went all the way back to Genesis.

Sin always drives a wedge in between relationships, and usually that wedge is quite self-righteous. It's very easy for us to justify our gossip to another person about someone else. We claim we are "clearing the air" or informing someone of something they need to know about. (In this case, that applied, although they went in the wrong direction with it and the "offended" is the one who set it right!).  Oh, yes, we just LOVE driving wedges around, we sorry, fallen children of God. It's our favorite hobby, such that we can say it is our second nature to do so!

Think about it, though....when one person starts with something... where does it stop?

Read the Bible: it didn't stop. Even after the Passion, Death, and Resurrection of Christ, it didn't stop.  We were redeemed, but, well....the wound of sin continues even in those who try to be or believe they are holy.

We all struggle. We all fall. We all damage those we claim to love, and what is most horrible, we do so in the name of "Holiness" and "Truth"! What is often lacking there is "Prudence" and "Basic common sense", and actually, the Divine Virtue of, well.... CHARITY.

You know what really stopped me in my tracks, though, in this whole mess?  

The ONE friend, the one who was allegedly the "target" of whatever I had said, and thus the one offended, was the ONLY one to call me and ask for the truth.

No one from the gossipy peanut gallery who was offended FOR her called me out. THEY slunk away like Templeton and took their perceived but not edited-for-truth version to our mutual friend, telling her of my (apparently intended) insult to her.

Thankfully, that "offended" friend knew me well enough to question what she was hearing and was certain there had to be an explanation. Therefore, instead of wallowing in it as our other mutual friends had done, she picked up the phone and...[get this!]...CALLED me to ASK for my side of the story!

I was nearly in tears when I called her back, horrified that I had inadvertently done something to insult her in another's eyes. She didn't see those blinked-back tears, but I know she heard the horror in my voice and was nothing other than gracious.

I can't tell you how grateful I was for her understanding, and even the love apparent in her initial call. I can't tell you how grateful I was to have been forgiven the unintended offense.

The Heart of the Matter

It was beautiful to be forgiven, but what I really have had to take away from this experience was this:  I have to forgive, too. 

This is a message that came to me even in the middle of that mess, from another friend who knew NOTHING of the matter that so plagued me.

This other, unknowing, friend spoke of St. Therese' of Lisieux, who rejoiced upon learning her flaws, and spoke even more of the unexpected humiliations, of remaining silent in the face of unjust accusations and assumptions.

Ah, yes, she was speaking to me.

I was, even then, harboring resentment against those who had so dishonestly and subversively accused me of wrongdoing, assuming the worst of me, and taking that sordid tale to the friend who, according to them, I was TRYING to harm, and quite publicly at that.

It's hard NOT to harbor resentment when accused behind one's back.

Yet even in that initial conversation, it was clear my friend thought the best of them, and the best of me, and in so doing, was taking the advice of the Saints to heart:  to always think the best of others, and speak the best of them.

This is no easy thing to do, and yet, there I was, the offender (if without intent) yet still the recipient of such divine charity.

Who am I, then, to hold resentment against my own accusers?  Shouldn't I, then, think the best of them? Assume that their intent was not one of gossip but of charity, even if they, like me, carried it out imperfectly?

Should I not also be first in line to forgive an unintended offense?

Yet I didn't; I did to my accusers what they did to me, if in a different way.

And because our sins are hidden from each other, they can be reconciled at this point only through God, and healed only through God, and through our behavior towards each other, and our prayers for each other.

Perhaps I must go out of my way to ask them to pray for me; they are indeed prayerful people, good Catholics, people I want as my friends. I only hope they still want me as their friend as well.

Yes, there is grace in humiliation; were it not for this, I would not have recognized the strength of one friendship and the weakness in myself so clearly.

It really, truly takes only a simple act of friendship to save many relationships and to bring us all closer to Christ.

That's what holiness is all about.

I thank God for my friends every day. Whoever you are, wherever you are, please do the same. You never know who has your back until you are the one to be scourged.

REALLY?

Here is your litmus test for anything you will ever do:

DOES IT GLORIFY GOD?

Seriously, look around you and consider all the petty "debates" (loosely defined) going on, everyone trying to get the fabled "upper hand."  Everything is rhetoric. Everything is "my opinion" versus "your opinion" but where in this is there room for GOD'S opinion?

Oy, what an archaic idea, that God would have something to say.  I'm not speaking in this posts to atheists. I'm speaking to declared Christians of all walks, and most particularly to practicing Catholics who are, presumably, seeking holiness. In other words...those who want to be Saints.

I am outright shocked at the number of "professed Catholics" who are jumping on the bandwagon in a protest that actually does nothing other than back up a controversy brought about by a couple anti-everything guys made popular by the irreverent to everything Comedy Central.

First...have you all lost your minds??

Second...what happened to your quest for holiness?

Can we just cut through the crap on this?  

Imagine yourself approaching the Pearly Gates, entering, and being brought to the Throne of Judgment. There you are, before God. You, and you alone. Ponder that now. All you have done wrong. All you have done right. It's all there; transparent, all interior motivations revealed in all the agonizing pridefulness and humiliation.  (It won't be a pleasant experience for anyone).

Now...do you REALLY think that drawing a picture of Mohammed in order to thumb your nose at extremists glorifies God?  Do you REALLY labor under the misapprehension that God is going to view that act of juvenile idiocy and say to you, "Oh, what a holy thing you did, how original, now take your place at my left hand"?

REALLY?

EVERYTHING we do as Catholics should be ordered to salvation; ours and that of others.

The second we lose that focus, we tend to buy into stupid stunts that just glorify ourselves and leave God in the dust.

To those of you who are buying into the "Let's draw a pic of Mohammed" idiocy, ponder, and maybe try to answer the following:  How, exactly, is ripping on the "holy objects/ persons" as defined by other religions making Catholicism more palatable?  How does it glorify God? How does such stupid "retaliation" make any kind of reparation to the Sacred Hearts of Jesus and Mary? And to you in particular, how does drawing Mohammed save YOUR soul, and the souls of others?

Are you REALLY planning to stand before God with this plan, expecting a golden ticket?

REALLY?

Entitled

I went to a Catholic College where, as at any college or university, there was a mix of students from several states, regions, and economic statuses.  As I recall, several of us used to comment on the sometimes shocking behavior or attitudes of those students that came from the wealthier suburbs of Chicago or other cities. We often snarked that they were always being bailed out by "Mommy and Daddy", and so never held to account for anything.

Truly there were some students who seemed to have no sense of the real world, so sheltered had they been by their parents' wealth.  One famous example from my class year came from a sociology class. A somewhat heated debate was raging with regard to male and female roles in the home, and there were passions on all sides. Finally one particular girl raised her hand and when given the opportunity, stated in honest astonishment, "I don't understand what the problem is! Why don't they just have the maid do it?"

The entire class fell silent in stunned disbelief. Was she SERIOUS?

Indeed, she was.  I do believe she learned a great deal during college and while completing her required internships, etc., about the plight of the everyday life of men and women everywhere, and that most people don't have maids. Anywhere.

I am ashamed to say, however, that even as I laugh at the incident now and even somewhat nostagically recall discussions with my friends on the "spoiled brats" at my college and everywhere...well, my house is made of glass, too.

Maybe it finally shattered today. At the very least, it cracked all over and will have to be replaced.

Sure, I grew up poor and "maid" was the word Mom used when establishing her role as Mother and not servant of we messy children. And sure, I had to work my butt off to pay for college (a debt that STILL has about $5,000 left to be paid off, but let's not discuss the grad school loans that will come due in 6 months on top of that...), but even so, I have just as big a sense of entitlement as those students did.

Oh, yes, my sense of entitlement is HUGE. I don't know where it came from, but have to admit it was in place even when I went to college.  I got financial aid and loans because I EXPECTED it and decided I DESERVED it. I decided I DESERVED to go to college, then DESERVED to get a good job with my degree...and on down the line.  Losing my "dream job" early on, the one I worked so hard for, was actually as devastating as it was because of my overdeveloped sense of entitlement.

The Human Plague of Hidden Hubris

If we all truly look at ourselves, we will recognize this same hubris. Maybe the rich kids in school had their entitlement influenced by their family's money or importance or other factor. But we poor kids, well, our likewise overdeveloped sense of entitlement (and the obvious superiority I described above) arose from knowing there was money for us because of our poverty, and the mistaken sense that we were "better" because we'd learned "values" and a "work ethic" from our working-class/ impoverished families.

Just last night, and a little today, some co-workers and I were speaking of this sense of entitlement we all have, how our pride gets in the way of all the different things we think we need to control. Not just out of a proper perspective of turning out a good product, doing good work, etc., but how the outcome reflects upon US in the eyes of OTHERS.

It's very easy to fall into the trap of doing some kind of good work or advancing some kind of program not for the good of the parish or the city or the school or other group, but out of a sense of misguided Pride in ourselves.  Although we may start out with the proper intent and ends in mind, it is very easy to lose focus and continually die to ourselves.  What may have started out as a meritorious thing can quickly descend into an occasion for Pride, in which we are seeking our own glory, instead of God's.

All of us seem to think we're actually entitled to a good reputation, respect and esteem of others! 

The last time I checked, though, holiness has NOTHING to do with how we appear in the eyes of others or what they think of us.  It has nothing to do with whether we have college degrees or a big house or even whether we live in an abandoned van down by the river with seven homeless cats and a wounded bird.

Perhaps one of the first things we need to really evaluate in ourselves is our sense of entitlement, and how ingrained it is in everything we think, how we live, what we do...in every moment.  Why do we get impatient when sitting in traffic?  Entitlement. Why do we get impatient when waiting for someone to call us back?  Entitlement. Why do we become put out when someone stops by our office without an appointment when the time might be inconvenient to us?  Entitlement.  Why do we become upset when someone else wants to use the computer or the phone or the TV?   Entitlement.

The Truth is this:  we have a lot more importance in our own eyes than we do in another person's estimation of us as they evaluate priorities in the circumstances of their own lives.  The unfortunate reality of human nature is that we ALL suffer from this plague of entitlement, and we feel put-out or put-upon when someone else's own sense of entitlement happens to collide with ours, literally or figuratively.  In our own tendency to be wrapped up in our own affairs and hubris, we actually forget the virtues of justice, mercy, and humility, all bound together by charity...which reminds us that true holiness is deferring to others and remembering we are called to serve, not to BE served.

NECESSARY ASIDE: 

Fr. S. at Clerical Reform has an INCREDIBLE post on this particular facet of Pride today.  Go read it!  I have to admit I  found his post to be timely given my ponderings and realizations of the last few days, am grateful for his commentary, and would love to sit down with a cup of coffee and discuss the theological implications of this very large topic with him.  Ah, the limitations of the internet:  often human interaction is limited. But then again, who ever said we were even entitled to the internet?  More on this in a moment....

Pride in Discernment 

As I wrote this post, another point hit me pretty hard, and because I know I am not alone in facing the difficulty of vocational discernment, I have decided to bring it up as well.

I've written before of the GIFT of Vocation, that it is something unmerited, and it's something I often forget to consider as I continually seek God's will for me.  I often complain about how hard it is, how exhausting, and how much I wish I could just put it aside and just "move on" with my life.  Never mind the fact that I can't "move on" if I don't know where I'm going!

Thus, in my prayers and thoughts this afternoon, I queried, "Why do some of us struggle so much with discovering our Vocation?"

The Answer:   Entitlement.

Ouch. Oh....ouch. Ow. Bleeding profusely now, and deservedly so.

When, exactly, did I get a sense of entitlement about such a great gift as a Vocation?  And when did I lose sight of the fact that the very SEARCH for it is a HUGE grace from God?

I've been realizing, more and more, how BIG my sense of entitlement is, and it's a painful process to evaluate everything in my life, taking a look in that mirror of my own estimation in my eyes, and recognizing I've been staring at my image in a distorted circus mirror for a very long time. 

The Remedy

Everything is Grace. Everything is a personal Gift from God.

There's nothing new here, nothing I haven't seen or read or heard, and it's nothing new to you, either. 

Maybe the problem is that even though it's not new, I've become so fascinated with the circus mirror that I  never put it aside long enough to actually embrace the reality of my own lack of importance in the face of God. Now that my perspective (again, by Grace) has been changed a little, now I can internalize, maybe, the Truth.

Yes, Jesus died for me, and my struggle with accepting that comes from the same pride that makes me depend too much on myself for everything. It's that sense of entitlement, that, at its core, is whispering, "You don't NEED a Savior...you're ENTITLED to one!"

Oh, it's painful to realize this, but necessary.

If we don't put this terrible, soul-killing, disordered sense of entitlement aside, we can't ever learn to depend on God. The loving God who knows our pride and our lack of humility, but STILL chose to die on the Cross especially in the face of our hostile lack of gratitude.

I'm going to continue pondering this, for as long as it takes. It will take YEARS to root out all the tendrils of entitlement that have taken over my life, but I'd rather spend the time NOW than have it burned away from me in the purifying fires of Purgatory. Which, by the way, is yet another Mercy of God's Justice that I don't deserve and to which I am not entitled.

Everything is a gift. Every moment. Every "inconvenience", every blessing.

Thank you, Jesus.  

Amen. 

Rocky Soil, Virtues and Sin

This last summer when I went out to Connecticut to visit a religious community or two, I fell in love with the countryside we passed through. The roads of that New England state have no shoulders and stone walls were everywhere.

It actually made me want to get on a horse and see how many stone walls we could leap, but I digress. (And I neither have a horse nor have ever formally learned to jump. Informally, though... heh heh...)

Although of course I'd seen many pictures of our Eastern states throughout my life and recall from early elementary school a discussion on the rocky soil that contributed to the hard life of the pilgrims, I admit I never really gave any thought as to how the land itself ends up forming the "character" of certain places. Sure, it should be obvious, so I'll admit to my shallowness here and now.

A few days ago a co-worker and I were discussing the characteristics of the narrow roads and stone walls, and she told her own stories arising from having lived there for some years.

She described how each spring they would go into the garden (or fields, for some!) and "pick rocks". The previous fall when the harvest was in, the soil would be spotless, but for the remnants of plants, stalks, anything. She always thought, "Oh, that's so nice, next spring we'll just have to till it and plant!"

Then spring came around, and where only a few months before there had been nothing but soft, welcoming soil, now there would be a huge boulder! Many huge boulders, in fact!

And so they would heave-ho right back to work, picking barrels and barrels of rocks from the fields, once again. This, she said, is why there are so many stone walls; they will continue to be built as long as the earth continues to heave up the rocks she contains. It's simply a part of life out there, for if they do not set to work to eradicate the rocks on a regular basis, the growing season would be wasted, the fertility of the ground useless without the requisite labor to make it fruitful.

Virtues and Vice

This semester we are studying Moral Theology, which, of course, involves a close study of the Virtues. (So far we haven't discussed Vice...thank God. I don't think I can handle that yet!).

Virtues have to be cultivated. We can't just rest on maybe what we've done before, thinking, "Oh, I'm more patient now than I was six months ago, so now I have that virtue."

We can never rest. As soon as we work to obtain a virtue, we find that all the habits we've developed over time block us. Maybe we have a habit of impatience, or intemperence, or something else. When we put the spotlight on a particular virtue, we so often realize that we don't have it because we haven't worked on it, or perhaps we've directly worked against it!

To use the metaphor of the rocky fields, we find that, each time we try to refocus anew on growing in holiness, in obtaining virtues, we have an awful lot of rocks to heave out of the way! It's hard labor, not an easy process, for it involves doing something contrary to the habits we've cultivated, perhaps over years.

Oh, and some of those habits might require a backhoe and a team of neighbors to completely unearth!

Growing in Holiness Involves Massive Labor

The road is rocky, the soil seems to be nothing but boulders. But below that, if we work diligently, and with fortitude (another virtue!), and persevere (!), we will finally reach that fertile soil and may find a few other things coming together as well. All of the virtues are linked in some way, so if we focus on one, it affects the others. And the more we grow in virtue, the fewer BIG sins we seem to find, although with them out of the way we can more easily spot the smaller ones which also inhibit growth.

This, though is where the metaphor departs, for just as one can't rest on one's laurels when one facet of the job is done, well, there's always more toil awaiting.

We can see, in a garden, the results of our labors. We can watch plants grow, we can observe the flowers budding and bursting forth. We can pick the raspberries, the tomatoes, dig the potatoes, etc. We can SEE results and enjoy them. Although it still involves a certain labor of love to water the garden and pull up weeds, we are encouraged to continue this because of what we observe arising from the ground; the fruits of our toil.

It is not so with virtues; the more we grow in holiness, the more we grow in attention to detail to our true spiritual state. We don't "see" our own progress in quite the same way, and the very moment we think we can say we have a particular virtue, we can be certain that, in fact, we do not.

That is not to say we can't notice that maybe we've progressed some; I mean this only as a caution. For example, if I were to announce that I've acquired the virtue of humility, finally, at long last...well...Oh, I can hear ALL my readers laughing at that one! To make such an announcement would be the antithesis of humility! Agreed?

And so, my friends, I don't know about you, but I've got a HUGE field of rocks in front of me, and if I don't start picking, I'll never be able to plant, and God will have nothing to harvest when He calls. I just have to figure out where to start, which Virtue to choose....and I think I'll go get rid of that big boulder right....there.

*****************

FYI: The other day Fr. S. at Clerical Reform posted on this general topic and included, in answer to a request, an Examination of Conscience based on the Theological Virtues. I found it to be very helpful when I went to Confession yesterday morning, especially in that it includes some great advice from St. Ignatius of Loyola.

I hope it will be helpful for you, too.

*****************

Conviction

I went to First Friday Mass at my parish on Friday evening and afterwards spent some time talking with a friend in the parking lot. Although our conversation covered many things, the core of it involved our shared struggle against sin as we strive for holiness.

Each week, each month, maybe every day, we have the same laundry-list of sins to confess. In that regard, I'm not alone. I've gone to Confession at times in tears, telling the priest that I am SICK of confessing the same stuff over and over again, almost by rote. I don't want to go in the next time with the same stuff. And yet...I do. And he tells me, "You're not saying anything different than anyone else."

It would be easy to give into the tempting thought, "Then what's the point? Why confess if it's always the same and nothing ever changes?"

I become very disheartened by my constant failures...so do we all. Raise your hand or leave an "Aye!" in the combox if you resemble this!

Moral Theology and Habitual Sin

The discussion with my friend covered the problems of habitual mortal sin, the Mercy of Christ, the need for Sacraments for those struggling especially against habitual mortal sins, as well as habitual sin of any sort. We all know this battle for we live it every day, and so often...it kills us, spiritually.

Which is WHY Christ instituted this incredible Sacrament of Confession.

In studying Moral Theology this semester, I am being even more convicted, and am finding that I have even GREATER culpability than I realized. As I read, I am condemned, understanding that my greater knowledge means I have even GREATER culpability, and while this is painful, it is also a GOOD thing, for it doesn't leave me to be in denial of my habits. Objectively, I have to complete this assignment realizing that everything applies to me directly. It gives me a greater awareness of my sin...and awareness of the great depths from which I must cry out to God for Mercy.

None of my readers would ever accuse me of being a Saint. Yet none can claim to know the depths of the evil I can commit, either.

In going back to the temptation of "Why bother?" I HAVE been often tempted to avoid Confession, realizing that, in fact, I DON'T have a firm purpose of amendment. I DON'T truly desire to avoid certain sins or even their occasion. I revel in my sin, and I do so willingly, even willfully. And even as I do this, I am ashamed for I know that what I do is wrong. Intellectually I recognize the wrong, but I give in through my will, and in that is my culpability. Even worse, it is a habit.

It doesn't matter if the sin is mortal or venial. It is a sin, and if I desire to ever attain perfection, I cannot remain in ignorance, nor can I claim ignorance. I know better. My conscience has been formed and I've been living in apathy for many years in spite of knowing what good I should choose...and don't.

A Caution

I know that I don't claim anything different than anyone else, if we are honest with ourselves. The Moral teachings of the Church aren't meant to convict us and leave us in darkness, but rather to help us learn self-knowledge, take ownership for our own behavior, and in so doing, direct us to what is good and Holy.

And this...this is probably my greatest failure. I avoid what is Holy when I know I have deeply wounded Our Lord. I avoid prayer, I nearly avoid Confession, and it is then when I am most wounded that I also most need to pray.

God can always hear us. We cut ourselves off from Him through mortal sin, but He never stops pursuing us. Each time we reach out in prayer, even the most minimal prayer with the greatest effort, He is there, and it is is an action of His Grace.

We have to trust in Him. We can't save ourselves.

If we pray at all, it is Grace that prays within us. It is an action of the Holy Spirit who will NOT leave us alone in our chosen pit of destruction. Our prayer does not arise from ourselves alone, but is in response to an action of the Grace of the Holy Spirit who calls us back to union with God.

There is a reason why Jesus was crucified with His hands and arms wide open, even though there were many other methods of crucifixion; He was open to receive us, so that we would learn to be open to receive Him. Just as we enter His most Sacred Heart via His terrible wounds, so He enters our hearts through our own, if we would only INVITE Him.

The most perfect and most necessary method of this invitation, from our part, is through the Sacrament of Confession.

How can Jesus enter into us if we aren't willing to open our own hands to Him, to take our hands away and reveal the wound of sin? How are we to believe we can be and are forgiven if we don't hear the voice of those who stand in His place, giving us the words of His absolution?

I have confessed not having a firm purpose of amendment. I have confessed being obstinate in my sin. I have confessed my belief that I don't deserve to be absolved, fully expecting that I wouldn't be, even as my contrition poured out through my eyes, even as it does now while I write this.

St. Paul wrote of this struggle, how we choose what we do not want to choose, how we war with our own flesh even as we desire the Spirit.

This battle can't be conquered by one Confession, or even a thousand. We fight this war throughout our lives, and no, it never ends. That's also why St. Paul wrote of it being a "race", for it is a marathon, and if we finish this race, we also win the fight. That is the key...we have to finish.

We don't finish until we go to our own particular Judgment.

We have to continue to go to Confession, even if we think we aren't sorry enough. Even if we think that we can't be forgiven. We have to confess our despair, our lack of sorrow, and our presumption. In making that act, even if the priest agrees that yes, we are obstinate, and, worst case, he refuses to absolve us, he can help us to come to true contrition.

I have never been refused absolution, but at times I wonder if perhaps it would have been proper for the priest to do so? That leads me to question God's Mercy...or...more truly...my own repentance. It's a circle, and in the end, I realize that if the priest absolved me, I MUST trust, and if I do not trust, does that mean I wasn't honest? Have I withheld something?

It is easy to hedge around what is really going on in our lives. It is easy to confess a sin but without the context that surrounds it. Does it make us any less contrite for our sin? No. But the confession of the full context gives the priest a greater ability to help us overcome it.

Online, I read a lot of complaints from people stating that they don't receive enough counsel from the priests to whom they go to for Confession. It makes me wonder: Can that be blamed on the Priest? Or does the fault in that regard lie fully on the person making their confession as they withhold details which would reveal the true SOURCE of their sin?

It is not a judgment to say this, only a thought for consideration. We reap what we sow, but if what we sow isn't complete, how can we expect fruition to come from our labors? The Priest may have the benefit of the Holy Spirit, but if we block off the Holy Spirit through our own lack of revelation, how can that make the Priest AND the Holy Spirit culpable for the loss of the blessings God desires to impart for the benefit of our own holiness?

Final Thoughts

In my conversation with my friend, I realized I haven't taken my own advice. I think it was last spring or winter that I wrote of focusing on one thing. We all have our laundry list of sins, but the reality is that if we try to work on them ALL, we both fail to accomplish even ONE thing, AND we become "immune" to their presence in our lives.

It's very easy to become overwhelmed.

Each time I go to Confession, I experience this. I wonder how I can manage to have the same issues time and time again? And then I pray my penance, and move on...and immediately travel the same spiritual ruts and land in the same damned pit (Yes, I used that word on purpose).

The advice I always forget: take ONE thing and work on it.

Say you have a list of ten things. If you were at work, you'd pick ONE of those tasks, and work on it until it was done, then move on to the next.

Why don't we use the same method in our spiritual lives?

If I go to confession, say once per month with the same list, OK, maybe we need to accept the fact that some of those things are going to be on there next time, too. That fact doesn't mean we're not sorry, only that the sin is habitual or part of our everyday flaws. OK. Then pick ONE. For me...maybe impatience. I will work on that sin for that week or month or whatever, and in so doing will recognize the situations that make me impatient, my own reaction, and maybe the actual SOURCE of that sin.

If I don't focus so intensely on one thing, how can I root it out and make it go away? It should be a part of a frequent examination of conscience, every day, throughout the day.

Yes, it's hard to realize that other sins are ongoing, but if we don't stab away at them, individually, they BUILD; they don't get better just because we want them to do so. The multiply and in the end, we do nothing.

We must not let our sins define us, but rather, take control of them, systematically, knowing that our own intellect and will, with the grace of God, overcomes all.

Holiness IS attainable, but if we don't believe this...we will be lost. We have to be convicted not only of our sin, but of the fact that our conviction brings us into closer union with Jesus.

We have to keep our eyes on Him, our Judge, the lover of our souls....Our Lord.

I am Convicted.

Are you?

*

Scandal

When people hear the word "scandal", they think of some bit of juicy titillating gossip about a political figure or celebrity, and enjoy the sense of feigned "shock" followed by the ripple effect of articles and photos and water cooler discussions brought up by the event which might not even be true.  

Our Canon Law professor told us last weekend that there are some canonists who don't understand the meaning of the word, and will argue that extramarital affairs and liturgical abuses don't cause scandal anymore becuase no one is surprised when those things happen.  In other words, those who are supposed to know better are defining "scandal" as "entertaining, exhilierating, titillating, shocking and newsworthy."  

What idiocy. 

Scandal is now, in the context of canon law and moral theology EXACTLY what it has ALWAYS been!  It is a stumbling block. 

Scandal is defined as something that leads others to sin.  That's why scandal itself is a sin. 

For example, if I take a youth group into a store and I steal a pack of gum, I've just caused scandal. Whether those kids know it or not, they've been scandalized because my action, coming from being a person who should be a moral leader, has now given legitimacy to the sin of theft. 

Does that mean they'll automatically go out and steal gum?  No. 

But I can think of times in my own life where people I looked to as a moral example did or said something wrong, and because they did so, it made me think the action was ok. And then I committed the same thing.  That doubles the sin;  not only did the person who gave example commit an objective sin, but by their example they led me to do the same.  That's scandal. 

Practical Application

I look around at certain "journalistic" rags (both religious and secular) and there, I read only scandal. Not because I'm tempted, but because others are. And THAT leads me to an entirely different sin of calumny and detraction against the reporters, the writers, the average uniformed "Catholics" writing letters fraught with heretical ideas. 

 Scandal. 

I look around at the blogosphere which at least is honest in that the individual authors tend to proclaim their bias and don't pretend to be "balanced" - but there is much scandal there as well. For there are more than a few blogs I can no longer follow because all I see there is pride, calumny, detraction, anger, attack...etc.  All things that are not properties belonging to holiness.  

If I can't look at someone or their writings and see holiness, then it's time to walk away. Because if I give in to taking up anger and detraction, well, that's a scandal. 

It means that the person writing those inflammatory words is causing scandal, because by his or her example, I am being led into the same sin they possess.  I've found over and over again that when I read snark, I become snarky, and if I get snarky and make it public, it makes other people snarky, too. 

That's scandal.  

Now, there is a line; we CAN be critical of things that are unjust or need to be corrected.  Pointing out a public wrong doesn't automatically mean the person commenting on it is causing scandal or adding to it. It's all in how it's done.

That's why truth in journalism is so important, why truth in blogging is so important.  We're human. We're going to be biased, we're going to have opinions, and often we are going to be quite passionate about those opinions. But that doesn't mean we have to cause scandal in our passion.  

I've had a lot of posts that have "magically" disappeared over the last few years, and I'll have more as I go through my archives, or as I write when maybe I'm a bit too inflamed to do so.  

The reason many of those posts disappear is because I judge them to be scandalous;  either because they contain misinformation which has come to my attention, they are uncharitable (thus scandalous), or maybe they are simply mean-spirited.  

The example we set as Christians makes a difference.  If X person who claims to be a good Christian has this biting, snarky commentary, it must be ok to respond in that manner and poke fun at someone who is ignorant of our beliefs.  If popular X person gives an example of ridicule, then it becomes ok for the rest of us to follow that example, because...hey!  X person is popular so his or her opinion must mean a great deal more and if they do it, then we can, too. 

False logic.

The fact is that someone who exhibits the above behaviors is causing scandal; they are leading others into sin. 

And yes, I've done it.  

I do it all the time, and I am sincerely sorry for leading others to enter with me into such sins.  I pray God have mercy on those I mislead and instead place their punishment upon my shoulders, which would be just.  If I have scandalized, it is I who should suffer for it, for I have a greater duty. 

Sometimes it's hard, though, to know when someone has caused scandal.  Snarky humor can be fun, and it can be innocent and poking humorous criticism at serious issues may be a good way to bring correction.  Yet, so often, there is a mean spirit involved.  We have to evaluate...are we making a personal attack?  Are we singling anyone out?  

Is the person we are reading being a jerk or is their humor honest and innocent of malicious intent? Are they leading us to denigrate something or someone in an unjust manner? In an unholy manner?  

What response does their example cause in us?  Does it incite us to our own rants, make us dredge up old offenses and anger...or do we simply laugh at truthful humor and move on? 

Is there darkness in our laughter or is there the guilty pleasure that comes with that which is illicit if not fatal?  

In looking at all this,  in pondering it, I consider my "ranting" posts, and I wonder at whether charity is present.  There are some rants I've written out of pure humor, albeit with a biting style.  And even though I don't feel anger or bitterness, often that does come through because it's truly the way, culturally, I've learned to express critical humor.  And that, even without intent, may be scandalous. 

I wonder at my previous posts, knowing that it's important to address what is problematic, but I knew that there would be those who might arrive and begin to air their own liturgical complaints.  That has happened...the keyword "liturgy" always attracts people with grievances.

Is that scandalous?  Am I responsible for the most bitter among us who are in need of healing but can't seem to find their way out of the darkness so that healing can take place?  Am I making their situation worse?  

These are things I consider. 

Recently, at Crescat's blog, I received a nomination for "Best Spiritual Treat Blog" and I wonder if I should decline the nomination itself.  

I love what she's doing, I love her blog, and I've recommended her to others.  I love her humor, her truthfulness of who she is and who  she claims to be, and totally identify with her.  

But...how can I be a spiritual treat if I'm as snarky as the next guy?  How does that lead others to holiness?

The reality is that here, I don't have a specific agenda.  Maybe evangelization, maybe just sharing my faith because I know there are others who need to know they are not alone.  Maybe revealing moments of piety juxtaposed with the majority moments of sin.  

I'm not a "Spiritual Treat".  You're not going to come to my blog and see a perfect exudation of holiness.  It simply isn't present.  I'm just a sinner in need of salvation. Awards won't change that fact.  If someone thinks I'm anything close to a Saint, well...they've never met one.  I spend most of my time causing scandal, actually. 

And if I could truly see the impact of my life on others, I'd drop in my tracks and die. For I've lead far more souls into sin than I have been able to point to salvation.  And as for myself...I wallow in sin.  It covers me. The second I leave the Confessional, I'm back to my regular charms, which aren't charming at all.  

My biggest hobby, truthfully speaking:  offending God. I go out of my way to offend Him, and then say to myself that it wasn't my intent, no matter how willful my act.  

Please don't load my combox with a bunch of platitudes of how great I art.  I don't need that nor want it. I NEED to understand the harm I've caused, I NEED to see very clearly the effects of sin, both in recognizing how others have lead ME to sin, and how I have lead others. That's important. 

We ALL cause scandal. All of us. We all lead others to sin. 

But my hope is here:  God NEVER reveals sin without revealing His mercy.  

I weep in gratitude that God can see my scandalous life and offer me His pierced hand anyway, so that when He is raised up, I am drawn to Him.  

Therin is the scandal of the Cross. The ultimate juxtaposition.  Such an event that makes us see how so great a fault that we possess can warrant us so great a Redeemer is beyond our comprehension.  

The fact is that Jesus Christ reaches His bloody hands out to us, in forgiveness and sacrificial love, bringing our scandalized souls into Him through scandal personified.  

Therin is His Glory. 

I have nothing to offer Him but scandal, for I not only sin, but lead others to do so as well. When I approach Him, I bring not only myself, but all those who have been wounded or killed by my actions.  

Scandal. 

And then He is so generous that at the very revelation of my sorrow, He erases my guilt and restores me to His side, hiding me within His Most Sacred Heart. 

And we are all scandalized by such great generosity. 

Truly...none of us understands scandal, for it is through scandal that we fall, and in gratitude of scandal that we might enjoy eternal life with Christ.  

I will go on, pondering scandal, for even now, I don't understand...

*

Lord, Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner....

 

Kiss of Death

I've been thinking a lot lately about Judas, and how much I resemble him.  I recently watched The Passion of the Christ again, and the scene that stood out to me this time was near the beginning.  There is something in the way he furtively leaves the Last Supper and goes to receive his payment for betrayal. 

There is something in the way the money bag flies through the air; and as Judas desperately and clumsily reaches out to catch the

 offhand throw, the money falls at his feet and scatters.  He is helpless to stop it.  He looks up at the crowd that stares back at him dispassionately and with an air of condescension, then with an attitude of desperate greed Judas drops to the ground to quickly gather up the silver he was paid for the blood of Christ who had ordained him that very evening.

He looks up at the soldiers, and the fear in his eyes cannot be mistaken. It seems he is already regretting his act.  And yet, he goes into the Garden, and there finds Jesus waiting for him. The man he had followed, the man who had washed his feet, even knowing of the betrayal to come.  The One who had shown him ONLY love...and gave him the free will to do what he set out to do. 

Then, when Judas returns to the Garden with the soldiers, how does the betrayal occur?  Through a kiss. An expression of love. 

How many times have I expressed love to Christ while bearing hatred in my heart in some way?

How many times have I begged Jesus for His love, while I pondered my next sin, my very betrayal of His own love?  

Judas flees, realizing what he's done.  The movie shows his torment and ultimate demise; suicide. 

Yes, he sinned in his betrayal, but that sin was forgivable.  He could have come to the Cross.  He could have come to Christ an any time and made his repentance clear.  He could have been forgiven.  

Just as I've been forgiven, over and over, for my many betrayals.  

Because, every time I sin, I  give Christ the same kiss of death.  The very same. 

We look to Peter, whose love, as beloved John Paul II pointed out, set him up for failure. It was in how Peter followed Christ to his scourging that put him in the position to be confronted, and where he denied him.  Three times.  

Judas denied Christ only ONCE; when he betrayed him. The betrayal was a single, seamless act.   Peter denied him THREE times.

Yet their stories are very different.  Peter continued to follow Christ.  He truly loved Him and could not stay away.  He repented of his denial.  When Our Lord appeared a few days later on the sea shore, Peter was so excited that he didn't wait for the boat to pull up...he leapt overboard and SWAM to Jesus, where he was given three chances to overcome his three denials.

Our God is a God of Mercy.  Infinite mercy. 

Judas, though, betrayed Christ, ran away...and stayed away.  It was his rejection of God's love that lead him into such complete despair that he saw no other way out than suicide.  

How many times have I rejected God's love?  In choosing to sin, not only have I betrayed Him, but I've rejected Him. 

How many times has Our Lord come after me, in spite of and because of the fact that He was nailed to the Cross on my behalf?  

How many times have I been tempted to avoid Confession because I've thought my sins were greater than God's own mercy?  

How many times have I turned my back on Jesus because Mercy was inconvenient to my Pride?

Judas was the first to leave Mass right in the middle, and completely missed the consecration which took place as Christ died upon the Cross.   Judas left right after his own ordination, only to bring destruction when he returned.  And ultimately, he missed the biggest moment of all. 

Judas did repent, but he repented to the wrong authority; rather than going to Christ, the one whom He'd wronged, God himself whom he betrayed, he tried to give back the tangible evidence of his sin.  

How many times have I tried to undo my own wrong only to make things worse?

How many times have those efforts been rejected because the ones in whom I sought comfort were the same ones who led me into sin to begin with?

How many times have I looked to myself for salvation, thinking I could fix things on my own?

Had Judas gone to Jesus, Our Lord would have taken him back, and although He would not have "undone" the damage, he would have helped Judas to carry that cross he'd so willingly embraced.  What was done was done, but Jesus understands everything. 

He asks only one thing; humility.  That in our sin, we recognize our sin, repent of it, and embrace the effects of that sin.  None of us is immune.  

This year, I'm trying to recognize each time I kiss Jesus in an act of betrayal, and have found even this short project to be maybe a little more than I can bear.  Yet it has been such a blessing, reminding me that whenever God reveals sin, He also reveals His Mercy. 

Lately I've been fleeing His mercy, realizing my own lack of repentance, my own failings.  Yet Our Lord has come after me, refusing to let me go. I've been astonished at His guidance, unable to deny what He has done.  

And yet, I look at Judas, and I see myself. If not in reality, then at least in the danger that has tempted me. To betray Christ, to run away, and even to be lost forever. I can understand why Judas did what he did; why he died at the end of a rope.  I've known that temptation as well and have been spared it only by the grace of God.  

Death is not what Our Lord wills.  He did not will for Judas to despair. He did not will for Judas to betray Him. The reality was that Judas did these things all on his own.  Jesus suffered greatly on account of Judas, whom He loved dearly.

It was Judas who rejected Jesus; not the other way around.  It was Judas who ran away and gave in to despair. He refused God's mercy.  

The reality is that the kiss Judas gave to Jesus was a betrayal not of Christ alone, but of himself.  He died in that moment, and he knew it. It was that very misuse of an act and symbol of love that truly revealed the state of Judas's soul. And if he could so warp love, how, in his mind, could he come back? 

Through Christ, and Christ alone.  For Jesus went willingly to his Passion and death.  He went, and would have taken Judas with Him, but instead, Judas refused the uncondemning gaze of Jesus whose last words to him were, 

"Would you betray the Son of Man with a kiss?"  

A statement, a question...not a condemnation. 

Jesus, I trust in Thee. 

Lent

Everyone is writing about Lent, which begins this coming Wednesday, so perhaps I should also jump on this bandwagon. After all, it's been in my thoughts and prayers, too.   

As a child, I hated Lent, because Mom always made us give up candy. We never had a choice. She'd let us "think" about it, but really, she just made the decision. The ironic thing; we never really had that much candy, anyway.  So it was that we really didn't "get" the lesson Mom intended to give us...that of penitential discipline, for love of God, for conversion. 

Canon Law requires that children 14 and older fast on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday, and abstain from meat on all lenten Fridays, but Mom induced that fast when we were 12 (out of her error...she felt really bad about that when she later learned it was 14, not 12.)  But it didn't harm us, and really, we DID learn from that in ways we could not articulate.  

Even when I had fallen away from the Church, I found that during Lent, somehow, I couldn't eat meat on Fridays.  I often gave myself a "dispensation", (invalid!) but whenever I actually considered God, this mysterious abhorrence to meat would overcome me on those days.  

So it was that somehow, I marginally practiced my Catholic faith even as the rest of my life was in a shambles. Somehow, God was there, reminding me of Him, especially during this very holy time of year.  

All of us are in need of conversion.  I LOVE conversion stories, and wrote my own back in 2005, which I recently took down. It needs a massive re-write, and massive editing, but also, I have to address ongoing conversion.  Conversion isn't a moment in time;  it's forever.  Conversion is the process that brings us ever-closer to Our Lord, and I'm constantly on that path - too often going backwards.  

Lent helps us reset our compasses, to redirect ourselves towards what is really important. The penitential disciplines aren't about following rules and just "doing stuff"; they have a point.  They are supposed to direct us to our true poverty, that being spiritual. We have to understand hunger and in that hunger, know that what we're really missing is God.  What we really need is Our Lord. 

Each year, I give things up, cut down on things, both sinful excesses and legitimate goods.  and each year, I fail, time and time again. 

What I've learned most recently is that this constant state of failure reminds me that I can do nothing of myself; it points me toward God's grace. It makes me understand that Jesus HAD to make His Sacrifice because I can't get to Heaven without it.  He leads by example, and my pitiful attempts are, in the long run, helping me to grow stronger.  Yet I'll never be strong enough to do it on my own. 

Today I went over some recent posts, just looking for ideas, and I observed a few patterns.  In one post, I looked through the eyes of the Rosary (not expressly stated) at the sacrifice of Christ, how He saw me, how everything He did was personal. Because this is something I struggle to accept, and yet, is so NECESSARY in my relationship with Him, I'm thinking I may take this Lent and pray the Rosary in a new way. 

Jesus knew who He was from conception;  Jesus always WAS a Divine Person, one with the Father and the Holy Spirit.  This is called "pre-existence Christology".  I'm not going to write about that right now, however, we need to understand that in His life on earth, Jesus was fully human AND fully Divine. He had the Beatific Vision before him from His very conception, and part of that included us: He saw each and every ONE of us, individually, and died for each and every one of us...personally.   

I'm working on my own version of rosary meditations for each Mystery, trying to see myself through Our Lord's eyes in His motivations, recognizing all that He did, all that He said...for me, personally.  It's not written, and may never be, but rather, part of a spiritual inventory, part of an ongoing conversation with the lover of my soul, the One who created me...the one who DIED on my behalf.  

On the surface, this may seem like a self-centered practice, however, it is not;  please allow me to explain:

It goes back to conversion;  conversion IS personal, and none of us can convert by judging others and looking for what THEY need. We need to understand what WE need to do to come closer to God.  We need to understand that Lent is the time for intense navel-gazing, not for the purpose of Pride...but in order to grow in Humility. The greatest source to inspire humility is the Sacrifice of Christ on our behalf...because we can't save ourselves from our sins, our spiritual impoverishment.  If we can come to embrace the reality that Christ suffered and died for us PERSONALLY...we grow in humility.  Knowing someone has paid the ultimate price for us NEVER results in Pride...it ALWAYS results in a sense of unworthiness. 

And we ARE unworthy. 

One of the great fruits of the virtue of Humility is that it ultimately makes us look ONLY to God, it makes us consider what He did for us. And when we can finally see that, we can more easily see Christ in others. In humility, we can decrease so He can increase, and we can learn to see others through the eyes of Our Lord as well.

The Great Commandment, upon which the entire Law is hung, is "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, all your strength. Love your neighbor as yourself." 

We have to love ourselves as Christ loved us, which means following His example - and dying to ourselves. But we can't do that if we don't understand what He did, and that it was personal. That understanding frees us, conforms us to Him, and allows us to act as His hands on this earth. 

I've written often of the personal sacrifice of Christ, but I know I'm still in need of conversion, and so it seems I haven't fully internalized the understanding of what He did on Good Friday.  This Lent, I hope and pray that He will reveal Himself to me through my own weaknesses, so that I can be better conformed to Him, and through self-knowledge, be finally able to die to myself so that He can live in me and through me...forever.  

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Jesus Died for You

This morning I was feeling quit dejected and frustrated. It's been a difficult week, and the worst part about it is that I haven't handled it well. I've been awful, and I can't wait to get to Confession so that I can get rid of all this "yuck" that encases me.  

And yet, I'm also dreading Confession. I know what I deserve, and I know I need to confront myself before God, honestly, without reserve, and it's never a pleasant experiece to recognize how holy I'm NOT.  

Until I get there, though, I feel, spiritually, almost physically, like Pig Pen in the "Peanuts" comics; I'm all dirty and I've got a nasty smelly cloud surrounding me, and everything I touch is soiled, too.

  

Sin does that. Nothing is hidden. God sees all, knows all. And all we have to do is come to Him and ask for forgiveness, because we agree, too, that we've sinned. 

I had to  take a quick run to the store this morning, and en route, I was mentally reviewing my week, hating the sense of being so soiled.  My own sin was weighing heavily upon me, and truth be told, still does. As it should; I'm in need of sacramental healing. I need to hear the words of absolution.  

Then I passed a church, and happened to glance at the sign adjacent to the road.  The words were simple, but they were just for me, in that moment: 

"Jesus Died for You" 

Simply stated. 

I mentally stopped my torturous mental inventory and focused on that one all-important Truth:  Jesus died for me. 

He saw me from even before His conception, and still willingly chose to be conceived and suffer this life. He took me upon his shoulders when He entered the waters of the Jordan, giving His very conscious fiat to God and to us. He saw me in the Garden of Gethsemane, and sweated blood in order to take on my just punishment.  He saw me as He was scourged at the pillar, and met my sin head-on, gazing at me with compassion, even as His flesh was visciously stripped from Him. He saw me when He was crowned with thorns, and uttered not a word of protest, taking my own rebellion into His own skin, letting it rip His own flesh. He saw me when He carried His cross, and did not condemn me, for He was suffering that I might not be condemned. And He took the nails meant for me into his own hands and feet, and died so that I would not suffer the eternal agony to which I have deserved time and time again.

He took on my sin. He saw everything, and still died...for me.  He became accursed...for me. 

Jesus died for me. 

It matters that I've sinned, and it's important that I accuse myself before God, and to the priest, of my sin in the Sacrament of Confession. It's important that I keep the suffering face of Christ before me, remembering His uncondemning gaze, so that as I accuse myself, I remember what matters even more; that Jesus died for me.  

Over and over again, I consider these words, and realize how much I need to remember them, how much I need to focus on them, especially when considering knowledge of my own personal responsibility. There is nothing we can do that will cause God to not love us anymore.  He saw everything, and went to the cross without protest, because it was the only way to expiate our sin. We can't do it ourselves. 

We need to depend on Him. 

And the more I go to Confession, the more I understand my sorrowful condition.  With a deepened understanding of my own wretched propensity towards sin, the more I love God. And the more I love God, the more I hate my sin, and the more I understand the suffering of Our Lord.

And the more I understand His suffering...the more I understand what real love is all about.  

Thank you, Jesus. 

To What Do We Agree?

In the last couple years, I have received a great deal of help in both large and small things, from both people I know and people I've never met.

And in that time, I've reflected on the generosity and love of such people, which has made me also reflect on my own lack of generosity, or my own lack of helpfulness to others. I've mentioned before that I'm often lacking in the "hands-on" form of charity, at least, in my estimation. I also realize we are all called to different things at different times. As members of the Mystical Body of Christ, we all must fulfill our roles, none of which excludes the others, but rather, incorporates them while maybe one particular portion is what we have been designed to complete.

Lately this has been my struggle. I have one co-worker who is very service-oriented, and I used to be as well. But my life has pulled me into more of a contemplative stream, one involving more prayer and study than actual hands-on service. It makes me feel guilty. I have to keep reminding myself that the time may come where literally feeding the poor in homeless shelters might be my role, and of course, I would love it. Or maybe it'll be caring for the sick and injured.

Or maybe I'm already fulfilling that role, in caring for the spiritually poor, which is the REAL deficit of our nation. Of all nations. Ever since I added the widget to my sidebar and have seen all the people from all the different nations who have passed through my blog at one point or another, I've realized that I'm fulfilling the command of Christ as He ascended into Heaven: to preach the Gospel to all Nations.

As Catholics, that is our command, and we all do this in different ways, according to the gifts we have been given. Everything we do should be ordered towards spreading the Gospel. Perhaps we're not well versed in the Faith, but know Christ enough to act in love and maintain a strong moral stance as an example to others. Maybe we don't have the words to preach, but we have the hands, and we have our very lives to lay down as an example to others who may ridicule what we say, but can't ridicule the joy of our lives and our hopes. And in that, there is a door opened through which they may enter.

Several years ago, a friend of mine and I were discussing the lack of morality around us. Neither of us were exactly living moral lives ourselves, and we regretted our actions. My friend, after a long pause in our conversation, said to me, "Once you've said "yes" to one guy, it's harder to say "no" to someone else."

It had to do with a loss of moral ground. A loss of dignity. From the other side, a judgment of a lack of fairness: "You're not a virgin. You slept with that other guy, what's wrong with me that you won't do the same thing with me? It's not like it means anything!"

And yet, it does, and we all know it. My friend knew it, and she carried her warning with her. Once we've compromised by saying "yes" to the wrong thing, it's harder to fight in the right battle. One becomes disoriented, unable to truly discern any longer, especially when the culture around us all defines certain behaviors as proper, even as our souls scream at us to stop for a moment and reconsider. To use our intellect and wills, to look upwards towards what is good, to flee from what is only debasement and injury.

Jesus Himself tells us to make our "yes" mean "yes", and our "no" mean "no". There is no middle ground; not in oaths, not in our moral choices. In everything we do, even in the small things, there's an absolute. A small compromise here leads to a larger compromise there. A strong stance here becomes a stronger, more fortified stance there.

We see this in many ways. Recently I observed to a friend that sometimes it's hard to step out and help another person, especially a stranger. But we can be safe about it, and truly, once we are willing to break out of our self-absorbed bubble on behalf of someone else, it is easier the next time. Once we say "yes" to the right things, it's as though the wind fills our sails and helps us to engage more quickly, and with more confidence the next time someone around us needs our charity.

The converse is also true; when we say "no" to someone, it becomes easier to say "no" again and again to the needs of others, and in that process, our hearts become more hardened. That's what happened to the Israelites in Isaiah; they said "no" to God, and as a consequence, their hearts were hardened. They had free will; they chose to disengage from their relationship with The Lord. And because of their willing rejection, they continued to reject all the blessings that came their way.

Nothing has changed; we still have this same nature. We tend to say "yes" to the things that debase us, and "no" to the things that make us holy. We are prideful if we go about "helping" others, but don't see the moral poverty that we must address, and so what do our good works mean if they are divorced from the morality and holiness that should be driving all of it?

So it happens that when we give our acquiescence to the wrong things, we end up giving obesience to even more things, until we are slaves of the world rather than lovers of God.

But when we give our obedience and love to our Lord, we are lead into active accord with not only charity to our neighbor in whatever form is needed, but to a higher morality that seeks to elevate the sinner towards God and out of the mire rather than to tell the sinner (ourselves, mostly) that the mire is actually a "good".

God is not a gray object. He desires that we are clear in our intent, one way or another. A "yes" to Him is a clear "no" to the winds of fickle popular culture. A "no" to an immoral act is automatically a "yes" to the Most High and His love.

We must be clear in everything that we do, at every moment, surrendering to God in even the smallest things. It is the smallest sins that lead us to the bigger ones that rupture our relationship with God.

To what, then, are we giving our agreement every day? To things that are holy, or to things that debase us?

We must choose. We must examine ourselves.

What do YOU choose today?
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