26 March 2009
Live it!
"We must be convinced of the necessity of having a living, authentic, and active faith. That is all the more true today, when we face so many difficulties. It is not enough to have a vague, weak, or uncertain faith" - Bl. John XXIII
24 March 2009
22 March 2009
He does the work...
In the Bible the cross is the expression of a life that is completely being for others. It is not man who goes to God with a compensatory gift, but God who comes to man, in order to give to him. He restores disturbed right on the initiative of his own power to love, by making unjust man just again, the dead living again, through his own creative mercy.
In the New Testament the cross appears primarily as a movement from above to below. It does not stand there as the work of expiation which mankind offers to the wrathful God, but as the expression of that foolish love of God's which gives itself away to the point of humiliation in order thus to save man; it is his approach to us, not the other way about.
Benedictus
Pope Benedict XVI
In the New Testament the cross appears primarily as a movement from above to below. It does not stand there as the work of expiation which mankind offers to the wrathful God, but as the expression of that foolish love of God's which gives itself away to the point of humiliation in order thus to save man; it is his approach to us, not the other way about.
Benedictus
Pope Benedict XVI
21 March 2009
Todo o Nada
"You cannot be half a saint. You must be a whole saint or no saint at all you will remain."
St Therese of Lisiuex
St Therese of Lisiuex
10 March 2009
Hunger and Hurricanes
To be human is to be hungry. All children are hungry. They are born hungry. Most children are always hungry. Some children are starving. It is terrifying to see a starving child. It is more terrifying to be a starving child. Starvation is horrible. To be without food is hell.
To have experienced the Christ, to have encountered Jesus of Nazareth, to have run head-long into the person of God in the flesh must have been like stepping into the path of a hurricane. No one would do it intentionally. Human beings do not seek out hurricanes. Hurricanes happen. Suddenly. Often without much warning. If we can avoid "being there", we do. If we can't, we don't. Its really almost as simple as that. To experience the Christ is to run head-long into the path of a hurricane. Jesus said: Man cannot live by bread alone. He said that to hungry human beings. He said that to starving children. Yet, Jesus was criticized for eating with publicans and sinners, and going among the people eating and drinking, for being a winebibber, for eating grain on the Sabbath, for eating when he was hungry and sleeping when he was tired. He was criticized by hungry human beings. He was chastised by starving children.
On the other hand, for forty days and forty nights, Jesus was without food. He told Martha that she was too concerned with food. He said: when you are without food, wash your face. He said: you are too worried about what you shall eat and drink. He sent his disciples out without food and, on the cross, he refused a sponge filled with vinegar and hyssop.
Jesus ate and drank. And he didn't eat and drink. He was something of a paradox in regards to hunger and fulfillment. Curiously enough, what has been called the extension of the Body of Christ - the Church - eats and drinks and it doesn't eat and drink. The Church feasts and the Church fasts. The central act of the Church is a common meal. The ultimate mythical fulfillment of the Church is a heavenly banquet. The Church is something of a paradox when it comes to hunger and fulfillment.
To be human is to be hungry. Most children are always hungry. Some children are starving. Starvation is horrible. To be without food is hell.
To be the Christ, to be Jesus of Nazareth, to be the person of God incarnate must be like being the eye of a hurricane. The eye of a hurricane is its focus, its power, the apparently unmoving force that instigates the terrible headwind. The hurricane's eye is self-contained and calm. yet the experience of the hurricane itself is scattered, disassembling, chaotic, violent motion.
The action of God in history is something of a paradox. One of our hymns reflects this disturbing paradox when it says: The peace of God - it is no peace - but strife sown in the sod...
St. Peter appears to have found the peace of God in an upside-down cross. Human beings do not intentionally seek out upside-down crosses. Upside-down crosses happen. Suddenly. Often without warning. If we can avoid, "being there", we do. If we can't, we don't. It's really almost as simple as that.
God's action in history is something of a paradox as regards to hunger and fulfillment. Is is true that 5,000 people who have run headlong into the path of a hurricane and who are hungry for food and starving for peace can have their hunger sated, their very guts which have been torn apart healed? And, if it is conceivable, can it happen through the vehicles of a few fish, a little bread, and a Word? Frankly, I don't know. But I can't say that I don't care, because I do. I care terribly. After all, I'm very hungry. And I am caught in the headwind of a hurricane.
Christ have mercy upon me.
And Jesus had compassion upon the 5,000 for he saw that they had been with him the whole day and were very hungry.
Lord, have mercy upon me.
And so he asked a little boy (who else?) to share his food with them. And from the hands of a child they were fed. Children are nice. Jesus likes children.
Christ have mercy upon me.
Starvation is horrible. To be without food is hell.
Maranatha. Lord come.
Human beings do not seek out hurricanes. Hurricanes happen.
Lord now lettest thou they servent depart in peace.
And because Jesus had compassion upon them, and because the little boy had some fish, and because the eye of the hurricane enveloped them, they ate and were filled and went home. It was not very spectacular, but then, what is? It appears that Jesus simply left it at that. And then he took a deep breath of fresh air and went back to being a fugitive. Amen.
-Martin Bell
To have experienced the Christ, to have encountered Jesus of Nazareth, to have run head-long into the person of God in the flesh must have been like stepping into the path of a hurricane. No one would do it intentionally. Human beings do not seek out hurricanes. Hurricanes happen. Suddenly. Often without much warning. If we can avoid "being there", we do. If we can't, we don't. Its really almost as simple as that. To experience the Christ is to run head-long into the path of a hurricane. Jesus said: Man cannot live by bread alone. He said that to hungry human beings. He said that to starving children. Yet, Jesus was criticized for eating with publicans and sinners, and going among the people eating and drinking, for being a winebibber, for eating grain on the Sabbath, for eating when he was hungry and sleeping when he was tired. He was criticized by hungry human beings. He was chastised by starving children.
On the other hand, for forty days and forty nights, Jesus was without food. He told Martha that she was too concerned with food. He said: when you are without food, wash your face. He said: you are too worried about what you shall eat and drink. He sent his disciples out without food and, on the cross, he refused a sponge filled with vinegar and hyssop.
Jesus ate and drank. And he didn't eat and drink. He was something of a paradox in regards to hunger and fulfillment. Curiously enough, what has been called the extension of the Body of Christ - the Church - eats and drinks and it doesn't eat and drink. The Church feasts and the Church fasts. The central act of the Church is a common meal. The ultimate mythical fulfillment of the Church is a heavenly banquet. The Church is something of a paradox when it comes to hunger and fulfillment.
To be human is to be hungry. Most children are always hungry. Some children are starving. Starvation is horrible. To be without food is hell.
To be the Christ, to be Jesus of Nazareth, to be the person of God incarnate must be like being the eye of a hurricane. The eye of a hurricane is its focus, its power, the apparently unmoving force that instigates the terrible headwind. The hurricane's eye is self-contained and calm. yet the experience of the hurricane itself is scattered, disassembling, chaotic, violent motion.
The action of God in history is something of a paradox. One of our hymns reflects this disturbing paradox when it says: The peace of God - it is no peace - but strife sown in the sod...
St. Peter appears to have found the peace of God in an upside-down cross. Human beings do not intentionally seek out upside-down crosses. Upside-down crosses happen. Suddenly. Often without warning. If we can avoid, "being there", we do. If we can't, we don't. It's really almost as simple as that.
God's action in history is something of a paradox as regards to hunger and fulfillment. Is is true that 5,000 people who have run headlong into the path of a hurricane and who are hungry for food and starving for peace can have their hunger sated, their very guts which have been torn apart healed? And, if it is conceivable, can it happen through the vehicles of a few fish, a little bread, and a Word? Frankly, I don't know. But I can't say that I don't care, because I do. I care terribly. After all, I'm very hungry. And I am caught in the headwind of a hurricane.
Christ have mercy upon me.
And Jesus had compassion upon the 5,000 for he saw that they had been with him the whole day and were very hungry.
Lord, have mercy upon me.
And so he asked a little boy (who else?) to share his food with them. And from the hands of a child they were fed. Children are nice. Jesus likes children.
Christ have mercy upon me.
Starvation is horrible. To be without food is hell.
Maranatha. Lord come.
Human beings do not seek out hurricanes. Hurricanes happen.
Lord now lettest thou they servent depart in peace.
And because Jesus had compassion upon them, and because the little boy had some fish, and because the eye of the hurricane enveloped them, they ate and were filled and went home. It was not very spectacular, but then, what is? It appears that Jesus simply left it at that. And then he took a deep breath of fresh air and went back to being a fugitive. Amen.
-Martin Bell
a prophecy
the mission you refuse now, you will one day accept. the light you cannot see will be shown to you. one day you will feel God's hand on your shoulder, and you will walk wherever it leads you.
06 March 2009
Kill them all!
The latest from Rolheiser...
Our Struggle in Faith - Between Knowing It Is True and Believing it!
2009-03-01
At the heart of our faith lies the deep truth that we are unconditionally loved by God. We believe that God looks down on our lives and says: You are my beloved child, in you I take delight! We do not doubt that truth of that, we just find it impossible to believe.
Some years ago, at a workshop, a woman came up to me during the break and articulated this in these words: "God loves me unconditionally. I know that's true, but I how can I make myself believe it? I simply can't!" She could have been speaking for half of the human race. We know we are loved by God, we can say the words, but how do we make ourselves believe that?
Why? Why is that so difficult to believe?
For many reasons, though mostly because (unless we are extraordinarily blessed) we rarely, if ever, experience unconditional love. Mostly we experience love with conditions, even from those closest to us: Our parents love us better when we do not mess up. Our teachers love us better when we behave and perform well. Our churches love us better when we do not sin. Friends love us better when are successful and not needy. The world loves us better when we are attractive. Our spouses love us better when we do not disappoint them. Mostly, in this world, we have to measure up in some way to be loved.
Moreover many of us too have been wounded by supposed expressions of love that were not love at all but were instead expressions of self-serving manipulation, exploitation, or even positive abuse. Beyond even this, all of us have been cursed and shamed in our enthusiasm by the countless times someone, either through words or through a hateful or judgmental glace, in effect said to us: Who do you think you are? We wither under that and become the walking wounded, unable to believe that we are loved and loveable. So, even when we know that God loves us, how can we make ourselves believe it?
At one level, we do believe it. Deep down, below our wounded parts, the child of God that still inhabits the recesses of our soul knows that it is made in God's image and likeness and is special, beautiful, and loveable. That is why we so easily become angry and enraged whenever someone violates our dignity or puts us down.
But how do we make ourselves believe that we are unconditionally loved in a way that would make us less insecure in our attitude and our actions? How do we live in a surer confidence that we are unconditionally loved so as to let that radiate in the way we treat others and ourselves?
There are no easy answers. For a wounded soul, like for a wounded body, there are no magic wands for quick easy healings. Biblically, however, there is an image that, while confusing on the surface, addresses this: When God gives Joshua instructions on how to move into the Promised Land he tells him that, once there, he must "kill" everything there, all the men, women, children, and even the animals.
Taken literally, this text is horrible and speaks about everything that God is not. But this is not a literal text but an archetypal one. It is an image, a metaphor. I suspect that someone in an Alcoholics Anonymous program will more easily get its message: Killing all the inhabitants of Canaan means precisely giving away all the bottles in your liquor cabinet - the scotch, the bourbon, the wine, the cognac, the gin, the beer, the vodka, and everything else that's there. You can't take the Promised Land and still keep a few "Canaanites" on the side or you will soon lose the Promised Land.
That image also tells us what we must do to enter our true self-image, the deep truth that we are unconditionally loved by God. In great mythical literature we see that, usually, before the great wedding where the young prince and the young princess are to be married so as to live happily ever after, there first has to be an execution: the wicked older brothers and the wicked step-sisters have to be killed off. Why? Because they would eventually come and spoil the wedding.
Who are those wicked older brothers and wicked step-sisters? They are not different people from the young prince or princess getting married. They are their older incarnations. They are also inside of us. They are the inner voices from our past that can, at any given moment, ruin our wedding or our self-image by dragging in our past humiliations and saying: "Who do you think you are? Do you really think that you can marry a prince or princess? Do you really think that you're loveable? We know you, we know your past, so don't delude yourself! "
To actually believe that we are unconditionally loved, we first have to kill a few "Canaanites".
Our Struggle in Faith - Between Knowing It Is True and Believing it!
2009-03-01
At the heart of our faith lies the deep truth that we are unconditionally loved by God. We believe that God looks down on our lives and says: You are my beloved child, in you I take delight! We do not doubt that truth of that, we just find it impossible to believe.
Some years ago, at a workshop, a woman came up to me during the break and articulated this in these words: "God loves me unconditionally. I know that's true, but I how can I make myself believe it? I simply can't!" She could have been speaking for half of the human race. We know we are loved by God, we can say the words, but how do we make ourselves believe that?
Why? Why is that so difficult to believe?
For many reasons, though mostly because (unless we are extraordinarily blessed) we rarely, if ever, experience unconditional love. Mostly we experience love with conditions, even from those closest to us: Our parents love us better when we do not mess up. Our teachers love us better when we behave and perform well. Our churches love us better when we do not sin. Friends love us better when are successful and not needy. The world loves us better when we are attractive. Our spouses love us better when we do not disappoint them. Mostly, in this world, we have to measure up in some way to be loved.
Moreover many of us too have been wounded by supposed expressions of love that were not love at all but were instead expressions of self-serving manipulation, exploitation, or even positive abuse. Beyond even this, all of us have been cursed and shamed in our enthusiasm by the countless times someone, either through words or through a hateful or judgmental glace, in effect said to us: Who do you think you are? We wither under that and become the walking wounded, unable to believe that we are loved and loveable. So, even when we know that God loves us, how can we make ourselves believe it?
At one level, we do believe it. Deep down, below our wounded parts, the child of God that still inhabits the recesses of our soul knows that it is made in God's image and likeness and is special, beautiful, and loveable. That is why we so easily become angry and enraged whenever someone violates our dignity or puts us down.
But how do we make ourselves believe that we are unconditionally loved in a way that would make us less insecure in our attitude and our actions? How do we live in a surer confidence that we are unconditionally loved so as to let that radiate in the way we treat others and ourselves?
There are no easy answers. For a wounded soul, like for a wounded body, there are no magic wands for quick easy healings. Biblically, however, there is an image that, while confusing on the surface, addresses this: When God gives Joshua instructions on how to move into the Promised Land he tells him that, once there, he must "kill" everything there, all the men, women, children, and even the animals.
Taken literally, this text is horrible and speaks about everything that God is not. But this is not a literal text but an archetypal one. It is an image, a metaphor. I suspect that someone in an Alcoholics Anonymous program will more easily get its message: Killing all the inhabitants of Canaan means precisely giving away all the bottles in your liquor cabinet - the scotch, the bourbon, the wine, the cognac, the gin, the beer, the vodka, and everything else that's there. You can't take the Promised Land and still keep a few "Canaanites" on the side or you will soon lose the Promised Land.
That image also tells us what we must do to enter our true self-image, the deep truth that we are unconditionally loved by God. In great mythical literature we see that, usually, before the great wedding where the young prince and the young princess are to be married so as to live happily ever after, there first has to be an execution: the wicked older brothers and the wicked step-sisters have to be killed off. Why? Because they would eventually come and spoil the wedding.
Who are those wicked older brothers and wicked step-sisters? They are not different people from the young prince or princess getting married. They are their older incarnations. They are also inside of us. They are the inner voices from our past that can, at any given moment, ruin our wedding or our self-image by dragging in our past humiliations and saying: "Who do you think you are? Do you really think that you can marry a prince or princess? Do you really think that you're loveable? We know you, we know your past, so don't delude yourself! "
To actually believe that we are unconditionally loved, we first have to kill a few "Canaanites".
02 March 2009
A simple prayer
Lord, take my tired body, my confused mind, and my restless soul into Your arms and give me rest, quiet simple rest, where I can be alone with You and You can be my all.
01 March 2009
and so we wait
The entire life of a good Christian is in fact an exercise of holy desire. You do not yet see what you long for, but the very act of desiring prepares you, so that when he comes you may see and be utterly satisfied. - St. Augustine
for good.
"The ways of the Lord are not comfortable, but we are not created for comfort, but for great things, for the sake of the good." -Benedict XVI, April 25, 2005
23 February 2009
Dolan...
"Maybe the greatest threat to the church is not heresy, not dissent, not secularism, not even moral relativism, but this sanitized, feel-good, boutique, therapeutic spirituality that makes no demands, calls for no sacrifice, asks for no conversion, entails no battle against sin, but only soothes and affirms." - a 2007 lecture on preaching.
---
"This is the time we priests need to be renewing our pledge to celibacy, not questioning it. The problems in the church today are not caused by the teachings of Jesus and of his church, but by lack of fidelity to them." - responding to a 2003 public letter from some Archdiocese of Milwaukee priests, saying celibacy should be optional.
---
"It bothers me if any politician, Catholic or not, is for abortion. Because in my mind, we're talking about a civil right, we're not talking about a matter of Catholic Church discipline. We can't allow the noble pro-life cause to be reduced to a denominational issue." - a 2004 interview with the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel.
---
"This is the time we priests need to be renewing our pledge to celibacy, not questioning it. The problems in the church today are not caused by the teachings of Jesus and of his church, but by lack of fidelity to them." - responding to a 2003 public letter from some Archdiocese of Milwaukee priests, saying celibacy should be optional.
---
"It bothers me if any politician, Catholic or not, is for abortion. Because in my mind, we're talking about a civil right, we're not talking about a matter of Catholic Church discipline. We can't allow the noble pro-life cause to be reduced to a denominational issue." - a 2004 interview with the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel.
17 February 2009
So far - nothing!
Francis used to say, "Let us begin, brothers, to serve the Lord God, for up to now we have made little or no progress" (1 Celano, #193).
Don't honor - Imitate!
There is a certain dynamism in all the saints that prompts them to find ever more selfless ways of responding to God's grace. Honoring the saints will make no sense unless we are thus drawn to live as generously as they did. Their holiness can never substitute for our own.
-Anon.
-Anon.
I think - I can!
I have always wanted to become a saint. Unfortunately when I have compared myself with the saints, I have always found that there is the same difference between the saints and me as there is between a mountain whose summit is lost in the clouds and a humble grain of sand trodden underfoot by passers-by. Instead of being discouraged, I told myself: God would not make me wish for something impossible and so, in spite of my littleness, I can aim at being a saint. It is impossible for me to grow bigger, so I put up with myself as I am, with all my countless faults. But I will look for some means of going to heaven by a little way which is very short and very straight, a little way that is quite new.
Therese of Lisieux
Therese of Lisieux
16 February 2009
Three strikes? Keep Swinging!
February 15, 2009
6th Sunday in Ordinary Time
Lev 13:1-2, 44-46; 1 Cor 10:31-11:1; Mk 1:40-45
Fr. Stephen Verbest, OCSO - New Melleray Abbey
Pimples, boils, wrinkles, lumps, blotches, rashes, blackheads, dandruff, crusty scabs, open sores and ugly scars. When looking good is everything skin afflictions are terribly humiliating. When the skin affliction is leprosy it is not only humiliating but ostracizing. Fear of contagion frightened many societies into expelling lepers from their midst. Similarly, our culture doesn't like to see pimples, boils, wrinkles, lumps, blotches, rashes, blackheads, dandruff, crusty scabs, open sores and ugly scars. But looking good isn't everything.
The man approaching Jesus was full of leprosy, it was all over him, he was covered with it. People turned away from the sight of his putrefying ulcers. He had to cry out a warning in his scratchy voice, "Unclean, unclean." He was ugly, horribly repugnant. That was "strike one" against him. Jesus saw this man who looked like walking death coming toward him and Jesus waited for him because he knew that looking good isn't everything.
The leper's heart was no less disfigured, scarred and falling apart than his face, neck and arms. No hands had held his hands for years, no lips had kissed his own. The only greetings that came his way were jeers, and looks of ice and stone. He was an outcast, debarred from social life, forced to withdraw from his family, from his trade, from everyone he had known and loved; he was, oh, so lonely. If he once had children, now he could only watch them grow from a distance, never able to hug them, never touching them. His heart was in more pain than his skin. He was socially, totally unacceptable. That was "strike two" against him. Jesus saw this man in torn clothes with disheveled hair who had a wild, frighten, hungry look coming toward him and Jesus waited for him because looking good isn't everything.
The leper's soul was no less stricken and damaged than the emotions of his heart and the skin of his body. In those days leprosy was thought to be a punishment for sinfulness. It was as if his sins had broken to the surface and were devouring his flesh. He was expelled from the synagogue and the Temple. He received no blessings, no prayers, no greetings of peace. He felt abandoned by God. His spiritual uncleanness was more contagious than his physical disease. Anyone who touched a leper was immediately unclean, cut off from the praying community. The leper was considered a very bad sinner. That was "strike three" against him. Physically, emotionally, and spiritually the leper was alone. He had no one to comfort him, not even God. Jesus saw this man who was forsaken, separated from God coming toward him, and Jesus saw himself hanging on the cross like one stricken and smitten by God, afflicted and bruised, with no beauty or loveliness to be desired, despised and rejected, a man of sorrows from whom all hide their faces, someone cut off from the land of the living. But, looking good isn't everything. When we see Christ hanging on the cross looking good means nothing at all.
As the leper drew closer Jesus was moved with compassion. Jesus did not flee or pick up a stick or stones to drive the man away as others would have done. Jesus let the leper come very close. The poor man fell down at Jesus' feet and said in a trembling, raspy voice, "Lord if you will, you can make me clean." Jesus stretched forth his hand, gently stroked the leper's cheek and swept all his sores away. He looked into his eyes with love and said, "Of course I want to, be clean." All at once the leper knew he was healed by Jesus, loved by God and made whole again. The goodness and love of Jesus poured into his heart and soul. Looking good isn't everything; being good—a loving person, that's everything.
From the moment Jesus touched this leper, the values of a culture based on appearances were reversed. Never again would touching a leper make a Christian disciple unclean. Just the opposite. Reaching out to comfort the afflicted, to love the unlovely, to embrace the ugly, makes us more like Christ, more spiritually beautiful. St. Francis of Assisi overcame his repugnance by kneeling to kiss the hands of a leper after first fleeing from him. Blessed Damian de Veuster of Molokai not only ministered to lepers but willingly became one. His handsome face grew blistered and swollen, dreadfully disfigured. Mother Teresa found Christ in the ravaged faces of dying wretches she picked up from the gutters of Calcutta. She caressed them, and they thanked her.
One day, at New Melleray Abbey, I sat down next to Fr. Joseph in our infirmary. He had a stroke and could not speak. I said, "Fr. Joseph, it must be very hard and lonely to sit here all day long and not be able to say what you want to say." He turned his eyes to me, his lips began to quiver, and he started to cry a little. I just held his hand with both of mine and loved him. It is a beautiful and life giving practice to make frequent, even daily visits to Christ present in our Blessed Sacrament Chapels. But also to visit Christ present in the hearts of our brothers and sisters who are in need or difficulty, especially the elderly and the sick. They might not look good, that's nothing. Loving them, that's everything. Will you stretch out your hand to touch them, will you show your love to them as Christ did to the leper? Will you do it today?
6th Sunday in Ordinary Time
Lev 13:1-2, 44-46; 1 Cor 10:31-11:1; Mk 1:40-45
Fr. Stephen Verbest, OCSO - New Melleray Abbey
Pimples, boils, wrinkles, lumps, blotches, rashes, blackheads, dandruff, crusty scabs, open sores and ugly scars. When looking good is everything skin afflictions are terribly humiliating. When the skin affliction is leprosy it is not only humiliating but ostracizing. Fear of contagion frightened many societies into expelling lepers from their midst. Similarly, our culture doesn't like to see pimples, boils, wrinkles, lumps, blotches, rashes, blackheads, dandruff, crusty scabs, open sores and ugly scars. But looking good isn't everything.
The man approaching Jesus was full of leprosy, it was all over him, he was covered with it. People turned away from the sight of his putrefying ulcers. He had to cry out a warning in his scratchy voice, "Unclean, unclean." He was ugly, horribly repugnant. That was "strike one" against him. Jesus saw this man who looked like walking death coming toward him and Jesus waited for him because he knew that looking good isn't everything.
The leper's heart was no less disfigured, scarred and falling apart than his face, neck and arms. No hands had held his hands for years, no lips had kissed his own. The only greetings that came his way were jeers, and looks of ice and stone. He was an outcast, debarred from social life, forced to withdraw from his family, from his trade, from everyone he had known and loved; he was, oh, so lonely. If he once had children, now he could only watch them grow from a distance, never able to hug them, never touching them. His heart was in more pain than his skin. He was socially, totally unacceptable. That was "strike two" against him. Jesus saw this man in torn clothes with disheveled hair who had a wild, frighten, hungry look coming toward him and Jesus waited for him because looking good isn't everything.
The leper's soul was no less stricken and damaged than the emotions of his heart and the skin of his body. In those days leprosy was thought to be a punishment for sinfulness. It was as if his sins had broken to the surface and were devouring his flesh. He was expelled from the synagogue and the Temple. He received no blessings, no prayers, no greetings of peace. He felt abandoned by God. His spiritual uncleanness was more contagious than his physical disease. Anyone who touched a leper was immediately unclean, cut off from the praying community. The leper was considered a very bad sinner. That was "strike three" against him. Physically, emotionally, and spiritually the leper was alone. He had no one to comfort him, not even God. Jesus saw this man who was forsaken, separated from God coming toward him, and Jesus saw himself hanging on the cross like one stricken and smitten by God, afflicted and bruised, with no beauty or loveliness to be desired, despised and rejected, a man of sorrows from whom all hide their faces, someone cut off from the land of the living. But, looking good isn't everything. When we see Christ hanging on the cross looking good means nothing at all.
As the leper drew closer Jesus was moved with compassion. Jesus did not flee or pick up a stick or stones to drive the man away as others would have done. Jesus let the leper come very close. The poor man fell down at Jesus' feet and said in a trembling, raspy voice, "Lord if you will, you can make me clean." Jesus stretched forth his hand, gently stroked the leper's cheek and swept all his sores away. He looked into his eyes with love and said, "Of course I want to, be clean." All at once the leper knew he was healed by Jesus, loved by God and made whole again. The goodness and love of Jesus poured into his heart and soul. Looking good isn't everything; being good—a loving person, that's everything.
From the moment Jesus touched this leper, the values of a culture based on appearances were reversed. Never again would touching a leper make a Christian disciple unclean. Just the opposite. Reaching out to comfort the afflicted, to love the unlovely, to embrace the ugly, makes us more like Christ, more spiritually beautiful. St. Francis of Assisi overcame his repugnance by kneeling to kiss the hands of a leper after first fleeing from him. Blessed Damian de Veuster of Molokai not only ministered to lepers but willingly became one. His handsome face grew blistered and swollen, dreadfully disfigured. Mother Teresa found Christ in the ravaged faces of dying wretches she picked up from the gutters of Calcutta. She caressed them, and they thanked her.
One day, at New Melleray Abbey, I sat down next to Fr. Joseph in our infirmary. He had a stroke and could not speak. I said, "Fr. Joseph, it must be very hard and lonely to sit here all day long and not be able to say what you want to say." He turned his eyes to me, his lips began to quiver, and he started to cry a little. I just held his hand with both of mine and loved him. It is a beautiful and life giving practice to make frequent, even daily visits to Christ present in our Blessed Sacrament Chapels. But also to visit Christ present in the hearts of our brothers and sisters who are in need or difficulty, especially the elderly and the sick. They might not look good, that's nothing. Loving them, that's everything. Will you stretch out your hand to touch them, will you show your love to them as Christ did to the leper? Will you do it today?
Do we stay or do we go?
... A monastic community is a community of sinners striving for holiness.
Unfortunately many newcomers to monastic life expect instant holiness on the part of the brethren without having to go through the messy but necessary process of conversion. In fact, such conversion is the object of one of our vows, the vow of conversion of life. But they are soon brought up short with reality and so enter the first crisis of monastic life.
-Fr. Stephen Verbest
Unfortunately many newcomers to monastic life expect instant holiness on the part of the brethren without having to go through the messy but necessary process of conversion. In fact, such conversion is the object of one of our vows, the vow of conversion of life. But they are soon brought up short with reality and so enter the first crisis of monastic life.
-Fr. Stephen Verbest
And still we call them "Saint"
Spiritual rebirth does not necessarily include peace of mind - [peace in the faculties] - it does not necessarily include inner calm, emotional harmony, easy relationships with others and a well-balanced personality. All of these human possibilities may very well characterize a person reborn from above, but none of them makes a truly spiritual person.
There are many holy people who are restless, anxious, hard to get along with, and quite unpredictable in their behavior. Often their personalities seem to be at odds with their spiritual call, and often they suffer immensely because they are unable to let their call to live in the Spirit make them psychologically attractive people.
Sometimes they seem distant or aloof, uninterested in what we consider real spiritual issues, impatient with our questions and quite asocial. We can see this in the apostles, as well as in many of the men and women whom the church calls saints.
-Henri Nouwen
There are many holy people who are restless, anxious, hard to get along with, and quite unpredictable in their behavior. Often their personalities seem to be at odds with their spiritual call, and often they suffer immensely because they are unable to let their call to live in the Spirit make them psychologically attractive people.
Sometimes they seem distant or aloof, uninterested in what we consider real spiritual issues, impatient with our questions and quite asocial. We can see this in the apostles, as well as in many of the men and women whom the church calls saints.
-Henri Nouwen
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