I Know Why He Went Away Sad

17As he was setting out on a journey, a man ran up, knelt down before him, and asked him, "Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?" 18 Jesus answered him, "Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone. 19 You know the commandments: 'You shall not kill; you shall not commit adultery; you shall not steal; you shall not bear false witness; you shall not defraud; honor your father and your mother.'" 20 He replied and said to him, "Teacher, all of these I have observed from my youth." 21 Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said to him, "You are lacking in one thing. Go, sell what you have, and give to (the) poor and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me." 22 At that statement his face fell, and he went away sad, for he had many possessions.

I know why the young man went away sad.

His question posed to Christ, asked in desperation while on his knees, is the same one we all ask, throughout our lives. And the answer given is a call to hardship, which we will only hear if we are truly open to hear it.

Notice that first Jesus told him what he already knew, just as we all hear over and over again what we already know; to follow the Commandments. In essence, he told the man to walk in holiness. And He does this so that the man will ask for more; this simple answer isn't enough, and Jesus knows it. He's setting him up to ask the question, "What more can I do?"

But that's a dangerous question, isn't it? If we had been present at that scene, we would have seen a young man desperate to know the next step, to do the next thing, to grow in holiness, even though he didn't yet know what that meant.

Until Christ explained that he, the rich young man, was lacking. Yes. He was lacking. The Commandments weren't enough.

I love the next line: "Jesus, looking at him, loved him, and said to him..."

Profound. Jesus looks at us all in this manner. When we come to Him, desiring more, desiring to know Him, we have already responded to the grace to come and kneel at His feet. He looks at us, and He loves us.

All day long, everywhere I've looked, that message has come home to me. Over and over again. In scripture passages. In articles I read at work while putting a project together. When I said I couldn't find God in something, His action was pointed out by other people.

We all want to know that Our Lord loves us, but when He reveals His love, and we see what that really means, it can be terrifying in its strength, in its purity, and in the necessary sacrifice that reveals it.

Jesus told the young man what he must do; not just obey the commandments, but give up EVERYTHING to follow Him. The man wanted to follow Him, but didn't understand until then that doing so would require everything of him. Nothing in reserve.

Nothing.

He had to be willing to offer his life, fully and without reserve.

Jesus, looked at him, loved him.

Today, Jesus looked at me, and loved me, too.

And the words He speaks terrify me.


23 Jesus looked around and said to his disciples, "How hard it is for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!" 24 The disciples were amazed at his words. So Jesus again said to them in reply, "Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God!


Jesus doesn't mince words; following Him is a life of sacrifice. Entering the kingdom of God means we must surrender our "wealth", even if what we have is pitiful. If we're attached to it, it means we give it value; that makes it wealth. And as long as we hold it in reserve, we can't really follow Christ. We have to be ready to let it go.

Possessions possess us.

26 They were exceedingly astonished and said among themselves, "Then who can be saved?"
27 Jesus looked at them and said, "For human beings it is impossible, but not for God. All things are possible for God." 28 Peter began to say to him, "We have given up everything and followed you." 29 Jesus said, "Amen, I say to you, there is no one who has given up house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or lands for my sake and for the sake of the gospel 30 who will not receive a hundred times more now in this present age: houses and brothers and sisters and mothers and children and lands, with persecutions, and eternal life in the age to come.


Today I received an email from the Vocation Director at the Cistercian community I had contacted. She is sending me information and has encouraged me to continue to discern whether God might be calling me in that direction, believing our contact was providential.

This evening in speaking with a friend, I told him that I really do want to visit the Cistercians, and told him how crazy this idea is. It's completely insane. And all he said was, "Don't you realize that's how you know it comes from God?"

I don't think he had any idea how hard that statement hit me. I truly hadn't thought of that.

It was one thing to be considering religious life; many communities really don't live that much differently than I do already. Yes, I have stuff, and I'd be happier without it. The idea of getting rid of my possessions really isn't so bad. There are things that would be difficult, but I know I could do it and ultimately they would not prevent me from following where Our Lord calls.

But there are things I hold in reserve. My own private stash of personal wealth. It's not money. It's not jewelry, or anything else.

It's my life. I'm still guarding it jealously. Jesus wants it, everything, without reserve, and I'm still screaming, "It's mine!"

But no, it's not. It's a gift, and as such, he'll let me do what I want with it. So on one hand I have my perceived definitions of happiness and freedom; I think of the little things in life, and the bigger things, like my friends, the ability to travel to visit them, a so-far unrealized desire to visit the Holy Land. Things I want. Things I'd miss. My family, my small immediate family.

But I'm being drawn towards the Cistercians. Austerity incarnate. Giving up EVERYTHING, even the smallest of pleasures. No more comfy bed. No more cushy job.

Obedience. Penance. Chosen suffering.

After living so long on my own...obedience in small daily matters, my will given for the glory of God, to another. For holiness.

And not just for myself, but to die to myself, and live for others. For their salvation. To be free to carry out sacrifices on their behalf, offering what they cannot.

I have wealth to offer, although I've never seen it as wealth before.

Myself. I can offer myself.

And that's why the young man went away sad; because he knew what Our Lord offered him so generously, and what he had to offer in return.

And he wondered if the price was too great.

And so he went away sad.

We don't know if he ever returned; we assume he did not, so we'll never know the end of that story.

But we do know that Jesus loved him, and the man went away sad.

And therin is what we all need to think about; how can one profoundly realize the love of Jesus, and then choose anything less?

That's what makes us sad.

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I Believe

It's been a very difficult Advent for me as I've battled my own sin, my own failings, and have been often brought to the throne of Mercy in the Sacrament of Confession. I can't even call it a purification of any sort; to do so would be pretentious. There has been no victory on my part, only great recognition of my own need, and in that is abundant and undeniable Grace.

As we approach Christmas, I find myself finally entering into the joy and anticipation of the season; it's been completely absent this year.


I've often thought of the Incarnation this Advent; considering how God became man, uniting both the human and the Divine. When I look around the world, when I see the filth around us, the sin, the reality of our lives, the reality of our social decisions, and the reality of our physical and spiritual weakness, I can't help but ask, "Why would HE want to become like US?"

I would NEVER have chosen this. Ever.

Let us all be thankful that God does not think as I do. For He created us to be in union with Him; when Adam and Eve fell from grace, they started the ball in motion that has brought us to where we are today.

God did not wash His hands of us and leave us to ourselves, but loved us so much that He remained involved. God has NEVER left humanity; it is always humanity that has chosen to leave God. He looked down upon us in pity, knowing what we chose and what we didn't choose. Knowing our hearts even better than we knew our own. He punished in order to convert; and never did He spurn a repentant heart. Ever.

Finally, He fulfilled His plan, and sent His only Son. We who believe in the Trinity know that Jesus is God Himself, the second Person of the Sacred Trinity, and even though our minds cannot grasp this Truth, we accept it. Christ Himself told us, "He who sees me has seen the Father" (paraphrased).


And constantly, through my devotion to the Infant of Prague, I've constantly tried to meditate, if imperfectly, upon the Incarnation. God become man, through the most unimportant of peoples, through the downtrodden, born in a dirty cave and laid in a manger encrusted with camel spit.

Most of us were born in hospitals, or homes. Maybe even cars.

Not the Messiah. And that was only the beginning of His suffering on our behalf; for we MUST see that the wood of the manger is the same wood of the Cross, and the same wood of the tree from which Adam and Eve ate, and when we consume the Body and Blood of Christ, we partake in the New and Everlasting Covenant that has redeemed us.

Twice this week, an infant boy has been placed in my arms, and I couldn't help but consider how this tiny human being was himself a reflection of the Divine Infant. So innocent. So sweet. So perfect...and so human.

So God entered the world, to save us from our sins and bring us to eternal life. So a child has led us, even unto the Cross.


The ONLY way to Heaven is through the Cross, and if we ignore that fact, we cannot call ourselves Christian.


I recently revealed my own struggle with belief this week, and in a form of reparation, I want to share with you some thoughts that have come to me over the course of my Old Testament classes in the last two years. Maybe my own denial of God was private (not everything was in the blog post), but because I am a baptized, Confirmed Catholic, I know that it is my place to "prophesy to the nations". And so I do, in the name of Christ Himself:



What I believe


I believe that Adam and Eve fell from Grace through Pride, and that the Garden of Eden was a true physical place which is now guarded by a fierce Cherubim.


I believe that Abraham is our father, and that the promise of the Lord to him has been and is being fulfilled even as we speak.


I believe that Joseph was sold into slavery, was given the keys to the kingdom, placed in position to redeem his family, and humbled in the experience.


I believe that young David killed Goliath armed with only a sling and a stone.


I believe that the 9-foot-thick walls of Jericho fell to the sounds of trumpets.


I believe that Ezekiel prophesied as directed to the valley of dry bones, and those bones rose, took on flesh and were resurrected into a great army; and that this army fortells both the Resurrection of all the dead and the reality of the Church Militant and Church Triumphant.

I believe that the Prophets were privy to the Divine counsels and prophesied not only to their own generations, but foretold the coming of the Messiah.

I believe that the Law is written on the hearts of men (as stated by Isaiah), and that those who fail to heed it are lost by choice, but are not without hope of conversion and subsequent redemption.

I believe in the Immaculate Conception, that Mary was conceived without sin.


I believe in the Virgin birth and the Incarnation of Christ.

I believe that God became man, a complete union of human and Divine, and that He had the beatific vision from His very conception and suffered all that man suffers...but without sin.


I believe that the Jesus of history and the Jesus of faith are one and the same and cannot be destroyed by bad scholarship.


I believe. In spite of myself and my own doubts, I believe.


And if I could be present at His very birth, I would prostrate myself even in the sheep dung that defines my very life, and worship Him who died that I might have eternal life.


Amen.

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Clinging to the Rock

I was actually going to re-post an old one that seems to take today's readings to heart, but instead, I'm going to re-write it, following the Psalm, which our Music Director found it necessary to ignore today. I don't know what psalter from which she was reading, but the very idea did not even match in the most remote way, the readings for today! And I left Mass feeling somewhat deprived.

Responsorial Psalm
Ps 31:2-3, 3-4, 17, 25

R. (3b) Lord, be my rock of safety.
In you, O LORD, I take refuge;
let me never be put to shame.
In your justice rescue me,
incline your ear to me,
make haste to deliver me!
R. Lord, be my rock of safety.
Be my rock of refuge,
a stronghold to give me safety.
You are my rock and my fortress;
for your name’s sake you will lead and guide me.
R. Lord, be my rock of safety.
Let your face shine upon your servant;
save me in your kindness.
Take courage and be stouthearted,
all you who hope in the LORD.
R. Lord, be my rock of safety.

Back in September 2001 when I was at the Fire Dept. Training Tower, a friend A. and I were the first to experience one of the first evolutions. They "smoked up" one of the buildings and sent us in to fight the fire. It was just he and I and the "charged" hoseline which snaked back to the Engine, which in turn was attached to the hydrant.

We wore our full turnouts; coat, trousers, SCBA (Self-Contained-Breathing-Apparatus), helmets, gloves, etc. I was assigned to the nozzle, so my job was to go in first, keeping my hand on the cement wall and following in until we found the fire. A. was behind me, and his job was to "roll" the hoseline, trusting me to keep us on track. His was the harder job. Indeed, I had to lead inward, but he did more work.

(FYI: In the "real world", the rookie was on the nozzle and the Captain was in 2nd position so as to both roll the hoseline in properly and to push the rookie.)

We began outside, and I turned on my air tank, released the air from the hoseline, and when we were given the signal, I touched the exterior door with the back of my hand as we'd been trained and opened it. A. and I went in, entering into the smoke and pitch darkness, crawling, immediately going up the stairs because there was no other way to go. Step by step, we proceeded, agonizingly slowly. The turnout pants were slightly padded, but not a lot, and it didn't help that I nailed my already-aching knees on the corners of the steps! And I kept my hand on the wall, while behind me, A. was laboring to pull more hoseline, our grunts of effort and muffled conversation encouraging each other in our respective teamwork.

About half-way up, I began to panic. I knew I was sucking too much air. I knew that we were moving too slowly. I knew that somewhere, the fire, and even worse, the CAPTAIN awaited impatiently, and all I wanted to do was leave. I was enclosed in my mask. I couldn't see anything ahead of me or behind me. I had the nozzle in my right hand, the wall on my left, my knees on the hard cement below. I was sweating, breathing hard, and wanting only to escape this terrible blackness!

And then I realized; as long as my hand was against that wall, we were fine. We could follow the wall back out the door, easily. It didn't matter that we couldn't see; it only mattered that we knew our reference point, and that reference point was solid and it wasn't moving. Our scenario may change, our hoseline may even burst and drench us. But we couldn't lose contact with the rock that we followed and that rock would lead us back out the door to safety. No matter what happened, that rock was solid and we were safe.

Realizing this I continued onward, we proceeded to the top, found the fire (with some impatient direction from the dreaded Captain) and put it out. And we followed that wall back out.

OUR ROCK

Life isn't easy. We often don't know where we're going. We don't know if we're going into the fire, or if we're going into a collapse or even a storm. We only know that Christ is our Rock, our reference point, and as long as we don't let go, we'll be safe. Even if our lives are required of us, as long as we cling to Christ, we will never be lost.

I've been constantly amazed by the necessity and the solidity of Jesus and His Church which has remained firm and guided me in the worst life has thrown at me. Even when I didn't realize it, the tether that is the Sacraments, the indelible mark placed upon my soul, has kept me in contact with saving Grace. Even when I looked the other way, I see now that the Sacraments meant that although I had let go, Jesus had never let go of ME. He used everything to bring me back home, and He still does.

Our Rock saves us; we MUST cling to the Rock no matter what winds buffet us and seek to pull us away; but He also clings to us in return, reminding us to never let go, for He desires that not a single one of us be lost.

When we are crawling, painfully through all the darkness of life, we have to remember to never let go of Christ, to never stop believing, to never let us be pulled away. It's not enough to call the name of Jesus; we have to LIVE it. We have to keep working, to keep clinging, for it is not only faith that saves us, but our direct cooperation with saving grace, and our willingness to cling to Christ even if it means we face our own death in a darkness we cannot comprehend.

In my training as a firefighter, I realized that I may be called to give my life. The same applied to my training in law enforcement. Yet, we as Catholics are rarely reminded that we might truly be called to die for Christ.

I was willing to die for a building and the people who might be in it. I was willing to die for that ideal, but at the time, I didn't even consider that there was something far greater; to die for Christ.

In our world today many are dying for their faith in Christ, and all of us may be called to the same thing. And you have to ask yourself...are you willing to DIE for what you believe? Are you truly willing to DIE for the truth?

Eventually I did decide that I was not called to die to save buildings, but rather, I was called to consider something that transcends all of us; Jesus Christ. Am I willing to die for Him? Am I willing to die for His Church?

As long as I cling to Him, I think so, and I pray, if that time comes, that I won't ever let go, no matter what happens.
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