“….. if the purpose of work is not the earning of money, what is the purpose of work?”

Matthew Chapter 25, in verses 35 and 36, has another answer for this question.  Or, if you accept the premise that work can be defined in terms of love, perhaps these verses give a practical definition of what the work of love looks like when put into practice.

“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.”

Feed the hungry.

Give drink to the thirsty.

Accommodate the stranger.

Clothe the naked.

Care for the sick.

Show compassion to the prisoner.

In general, serve “the least,” for they are a legitimate embodiment of Christ here on earth.

Work is a major component of our lives.  In this society, it is very difficult not to be obsessed with it.  If you aren’t, you run a serious risk of getting run over, and of losing the ability to provide even the most basic needs for your family.

But how many of us are engaged in these most basic tasks directly in our work lives?

How many of us instead treat these activities as secondary, as something to be done in our spare time, as that small part of our lives that fall under the heading charity, even though Jesus tells us quite clearly in this Gospel passage that salvation hinges on how well we recognize and follow through on our opportunities to serve?

Should the work of our lives be about accumulation, so that we might give some small portion away?

Or should it be about achieving salvation, and thus directly about the service Jesus speaks of here?

How literal is the instruction of Jesus to the young man in Matthew 19:21?

“If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.”

If we choose salvation as our focus, can we achieve it by embracing the current work paradigm of American society?

Or is a different paradigm required, one that better embraces the Radical Love that is embodied by Christ on the Cross, the greatest example of service that we can possibly reference?

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.”

As the father of three boys, I have spent some time coaching my sons and their teammates on the basketball court and the baseball field.  This quotation reminds me specifically of the way I like to talk about pitching.

When they are young, we spend lots of time working on the fundamentals of pitching mechanics.  The kids learn how to grip the ball, how to drop step, pivot, and reach a high balance point, how to separate their hands and drop and glide with their lead foot, how to achieve the right arm angle and release point, and finally how to finish in a good fielding position.

All these fundamental skills are important in learning how to pitch.  But inevitably you get to a point where the kids can execute these skills fairly well, but they still have trouble throwing strikes.

The problem is, they haven’t learned to focus on their target yet.

That target is not the strike zone, or even the catcher’s mitt.  I want them to focus on just the webbing in the catcher’s mitt so that the target is as small as possible.  (Aim small, miss small, to quote Mel Gibson in The Patriot.)

Then I tell them, “Trust your fundamentals, and take all your momentum, all your energy, your entire being, and use that to hit your target.”

Once they learn this focus, then they start throwing strikes consistently.

The point is, you could read this blog and learn all the fundamentals of prayer that I suggest.  You could memorize them and repeat them back to me exactly as I wrote them, and that would be great.

But if you’re not focused on loving God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind, then your prayer experience will still be lacking.

Somehow, the basic idea of love as the environment you live in must become part of your underlying approach to life and prayer.

Because if everything you do doesn’t have love for God at its center, you will never find contentment in prayer, or in your life in general.

The discussion started with a post of this quotation:

‘If you wish to be perfect, go, sell your possessions, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.’ When the young man heard this word, he went away grieving, for he had many possessions.

I would ask, when the young man walked away, did Jesus (remember that He is King above all other Kings, Ruler above all other Rulers) forcefully take away his possessions in order to force him to obey?

Or did He respect the young man’s freedom to decide for himself, even though that decision might cost him his immortal soul?

Freedom is at the heart of the example of Jesus. Not once in the Gospels is anyone compelled to action by the God incarnate. Not a single Pharisee or Scribe is turned from the path of sinfulness by coercion. Not one apostle is called against their will. Not even Judas, despite the foreknowledge of the Lord, is denied the ability to exercise his freedom.

Jesus teaches.  He attempts to persuade.  He prays.  And He hopes.

Then, in the end, He demonstrates the perfect use of freedom. He endures the Cross, giving everything He possesses, including His very life, in service of His fellow man, despite the fact that His fellow man is responsible for His doom.

It is the greatest act of freedom in the history of the world.

It is His definition of love, which we must find a way to cope with.

It is how He defines a man’s responsibility to his fellows.

And it is only possible in the context of free will.

After Jesus completes His task, our free will remains as the only viable tool we have for communicating our devotion to Him.  Only when we freely decide to follow the example of the Cross can we truly be seen to have implemented His will.

Everything depends on freedom.

There is no love without freedom.

Charity can not be extracted via the tax code or any amount of legislation.

For those who care, suffering is hard to witness. We long to intervene. We know in our core that we have the means to provide every American with access to health care.  We are so desperate to do what we think is right that our emotions run away with us. We give in to caring at any cost, heedless of the damage a reckless course of action can cause.

We become willing to substitute one set of suffering for another.

And make no mistake. Millions and millions of Americans are suffering today.

Not at the hands of illness.

But at the hands of a government that does not understand that Jesus is the embodiment of a natural law that requires, no matter what, that our Creator endowed right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness be protected as a precondition to any action we take.

We are suffering because our government, regardless of its intentions, has ripped a piece of our liberty from us as if it were an arm or a leg.

And we know we will never be whole again.

Worse yet, we know that it is preparing to do so again, and again, and again, because it has lost sight of its most fundamental responsibilities.

In 1776 and the era that followed, American leaders understood the example of Jesus. They attempted to encode that example in a Declaration of Independence and a Constitution that was meant to preserve individual liberty as the core prerequisite of a just society.

They understood that the best hope for mankind was the hope that men would use their freedom for the betterment of the whole.

They understood that this hope, because of the fallibility of men, would not result in a perfect union, just a more perfect one.

They knew that the imperfection they were erecting was just because it would lead to a better way of life than the imperfections embodied in all the methods of governance that went before.

The first rule of a just society is that its government must respect and protect Creator endowed liberty.

If the government chooses not to do this, Revolution and Independence are not only justified but required in order that the natural law be established (or re-established in this case) for the benefit of all men.

Revolution is coming.

I can’t say when.

Hopefully it will be peacefully, at the ballot box this fall.

If not, then it will come in another form, at another time.

But revolution is inevitable.

For man has not the ability to deny this Natural Law forever.

Especially now that he has experienced a long and significant exposure to it.

Peter answered him, “We have left everything to follow you! What then will there be for us?”

Once again, the word everything makes its prominence felt.

When I last met with Sr. Agnes Marie, I told her I was having problems with Peter.  She reminded me how nice it is to have someone so very human as an apostle.  If Peter finally got it, it gives us hope for ourselves.

I have the advantage, I suppose, of being able to look back at a history Peter was unaware of.  He was living in the moment, and it can be difficult to understand what’s happening around us as it happens.

On the other hand, by this time Peter has already witnessed enough that he knows who Jesus is.  Jesus has performed multiple healing miracles, fed the five thousand, walked on the water, and been transfigured.  In Matthew 16, Peter has already confessed to Jesus that he understands Him to be the Christ.

Peter is privileged to be best friends with the Christ as He walks upon the earth.

But that doesn’t seem to be enough for him.

He is not content without knowing the future rewards for leaving everything behind to follow Jesus.

I’m actually surprised at the answer Jesus gives.

I expected Him to say something like “You’re already with Me.  What more do you need?”

Instead Jesus affirms for Peter that he will have a place on a throne of judgment when the time comes, and He indicates that those who sacrifice for His sake will be repaid a hundred times over and will be rewarded with eternal life.

As for me, I wish no place on a throne.  Nor do I wish repayment a hundred times over for whatever portion of everything I manage to give up.

All I want is to be in the presence of Jesus.

Now.

And then eternally.

It seems such a simple thing.

Yet it remains, in the now, elusive.

Peter seems to take for granted the very thing that I would gladly sacrifice everything for.

The simple ability to just dwell in the presence of Jesus.

One more excerpt from the SFO formation preparation materials from last weekend:

“Whenever we face the issue of trust in God, fear is not far away.  We want to trust God.  We want to believe in God’s love and compassion for us.  But we wonder if God will really come through.  Will God be there when I need help?  Will God actually answer my prayers?”

I have to assert here that I do not suffer from these fears.

I have complete and utter confidence in God’s love and compassion for me.  He’s already come through in a way that I can never repay.

I gaze at the Cross, and it removes my ability to doubt Him.  He was willing to endure the Crucifixion for me.  How could it be even remotely possible that at this time, He will fail me?

I also understand my own limitations, my own inability to always correctly judge what is best for me.

If I fear anything, I fear my ability to grasp His response.  Or more precisely, I fear my ability to let go of my preconceptions, to let go of what I think I need, in favor of embracing what He offers me as the true answer to my prayers.

In other words, I fear my ability to let go of everything I hold in favor of embracing every grace He wishes to give me.

Yes, there’s that “everything” word again.

I am reminded of the Garth Brooks song, “Unanswered Prayers”.

Just the other night a hometown football game
My wife and I ran into my old high school flame
And as I introduced them the past came back to me
And I couldn’t help but think of the way things used to be

She was the one that I’d wanted for all times
And each night I’d spend prayin’ that God would make her mine
And if he’d only grant me this wish I wished back then
I’d never ask for anything again

Sometimes I thank God for unanswered prayers
Remember when you’re talkin’ to the man upstairs
That just because he doesn’t answer doesn’t mean he don’t care
Some of God’s greatest gifts are unanswered prayers

She wasn’t quite the angel that I remembered in my dreams
And I could tell that time had changed me
In her eyes too it seemed
We tried to talk about the old days
There wasn’t much we could recall
I guess the Lord knows what he’s doin’ after all

And as she walked away and I looked at my wife
And then and there I thanked the good Lord
For the gifts in my life

Sometimes I thank God for unanswered prayers

Remember when you’re talkin’ to the man upstairs
That just because he may not answer doesn’t mean he don’t care
Some of God’s greatest gifts are unanswered prayers

Some of God’s greatest gifts are all too often unanswered…
Some of God’s greatest gifts are unanswered prayers

The Mouth of Truth

The material for my SFO formation meeting last weekend contained this line:

“Through profession of the SFO way of life, we choose to interpret life and find meaning.”

I really struggled with this statement.  And my struggles only increased when later in the chapter this example was given as a possible application of that thought:

“A terrorist kills a hundred people and is brought to trial.  He or she is convicted.  The grisly nature of the crime and the awful suffering of the victims bring a cry for the death penalty…….A Secular Franciscan may have to think it through and come to a conclusion not shared by others.  Life is precious even for a criminal.”

May have to think it through?

My opinion would be that there is no option here.  I would have to reach that different conclusion if I am being honest with myself.

I don’t think of my participation in the SFO as part of a search for meaning.

I think of it as a quest for Truth.

I also don’t think that my responsibility is to somehow “interpret” life.  That word suggests that I have input into and authority over what makes up the Truth.

My responsibility is more about application than innovation.  I should view the world through the lens of the Gospels, and if I do that sincerely, interpretation is inappropriate.  Instead, the Truth is revealed by that lens, and I order my life according to that revelation, separate from whatever interpretations my fallible self might be susceptible to.

One of the keys to the life of Francis was imitation.  He took Jesus as his model in an effort to live the best life possible.  He did that so well that at the end, he was rewarded with the stigmata.

If one is to “put on Jesus,” what room can there be for interpretation centered in the self?

Isn’t the goal to “deny self,” as Jesus instructs in Matthew 16?  Wouldn’t setting aside everything in an effort to deny self include setting aside my personal interpretations of a given situation, in favor of embracing God’s view of what is occurring?

I suppose one might argue that since I am the looking through the lens, I can’t avoid interpretation.  Its inevitable.

But doesn’t that presuppose that God is incapable or unwilling to make the Truth known to me?

My experience would oppose that.  He is quite capable and willing.  There is much that I have come to know as Truth through prayer.  I can’t provide an empirical proof that establishes that Truth, but I know it nonetheless.

I must remain humble as I identify the Truth, understanding that it is always possible that I have misunderstood what God is attempting to convey.

But the answer to that need is not a further insertion of self into the process via interpretation, but instead an attempt to withdraw further, to make myself a more perfect blank slate for Him to write upon.

Its a fine line, and I’m sure I haven’t identified it well.

But I just couldn’t shake the uneasiness I felt at the statement.

In every day life, there are many calls for us to be “charitable.”

I probably get at least one piece of mail a day asking me to contribute to this or that cause.  We also get frequent phone calls (or at least we used to before caller ID and no call lists) requesting donations.  Our Catholic schools always have something they want us to give to, the envelopes for my parish include many additional requests beyond the Sunday collection, and my fraternity has a reminder at every monthly meeting about the programs it supports.

All these qualify as charity in the modern world, but the theological virtue of charity means something deeper than this, something which I find it difficult to give voice to.

In preparation for our SFO study group last Sunday, one of the assigned readings was the introduction to the encyclical Charity in Truth, by Benedict XVI.

The Pope says this:

“Charity goes beyond justice, because to love is to give, to offer what is “mine” to the other;  but it never lacks justice, which prompts us to give to the other what is “his,” what is due to him by reason of his being or his acting…………charity transcends justice and completes it in the logic of giving and forgiving.  The earthly city is promoted not merely by relationships of rights and duties, but to an even greater and more fundamental extent by relationships of gratuitousness, mercy, and communion.”

When I consider this, I understand it to be, at its very essence, a description of the life of Jesus.

The link to the word gratuitousness defines it as something given “beyond obligation.”  That describes exactly what Jesus did (although not in return for services rendered).  He gave everything of Himself, beyond any reasonable sense of obligation we might assign to Him, and He did so purely because He loved us.

St. Francis, in his quest to follow the example of Jesus, did something similar.  He embraced poverty completely, leaving himself bereft of the ability to give anything material to his fellow man.  And then, out of that poverty, he proceeded to give his entire spiritual being as well.

In our study group, we were asking, “Why you, Francis?”  What was it about you that made your life so compelling that we still hold you up as an example today?

The ability to give everything must be part of that answer.

There’s that word again, “everything.”  It first came up in the post on Matthew Chapter 13.

“When he (the merchant) found one (a fine pearl) of great value, he went away and sold everything he had and bought it.”

The idea of charity must now be linked to that word.

Charity, in the theological sense, is something more than just another way to say love.

We are called not to give just what it takes to achieve justice.  We are called to give well beyond that, to give everything that is rightfully ours to the other (not just our material, but our spirit as well) because we understand that this is how Jesus taught us to love by the example of His life.

The theological virtue of Charity, then, is the ability to give everything of one’s self in the name of love.

How, in the context of my life, can I possibly love well enough that I give everything to others the way that Jesus, Francis, and the merchant did?

Then Jesus said to his disciples, “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.”

In the last post on this chapter, I focused on crosses.

Now I wish to move to the idea of denying self.

This concept, I think, must be intimately linked to the ideas in the “everything” pathway.

The early posts on that path focus mostly on material things, and the trouble this world presents in denying them.

There is also a side to “everything”  that has to do with giving.  I don’t mean giving in the context of material charity, but instead in the sense of giving everything I have to the vocations God has called me to.

Proper execution of the vocations of husband and father leave little room for selfishness.  But as a sinful man with many failings, there are large parts of me that long to be selfish.  For instance, I like to the play the computer game Civilization.  The danger is this game is terribly time consuming.  There are times when I lose balance, which causes me to loose focus on the obligations of my vocations.

There are also parts of me that doubt, that have a hard time sorting out the obligations of my multiple vocations.  I feel intensely called to my Franciscan vocation.  The ideal of Franciscan poverty inherent to that call creates conflict for me.  I wish to distance myself from the material world, but at the same time I need to dwell within it to support my family.  The lines between these competing ideals are difficult to discern.  I often separate find myself too much from the world, and this creates risk for my family.

What does this have to do with denying self?

I must learn to deny those parts of myself that interfere with my ability to give everything to all my vocations.

And to further close the loop, I need to recognize that these denials are by definition crosses to bear.

In other words, denial of the negative aspects of self in pursuit of Godly vocations (because it represents crosses to be born as discussed in the scriptural passage) will further me on the path to following Jesus!

Perhaps its a convoluted way to reach a straightforward conclusion, but for me, the graces from such an investigation add depth and certainty to my life and my relationship with my savior.

The beauty and consistency of the plan and structure of God’s creation in its details are not always easy to discern, but they are always there.

This fascinates me, giving me glimpses into the vastness of God, and the corresponding vastness of His love for me.

The sensation is beyond joyful.  I have not the words to describe it to you.

Sniper Ghillie Suit

About two weeks ago, I wrote the post The Well of Desire as an introduction to the Desire spoke of the Transformation Wheel.  Then I read Matthew Chapter 13, and I veered into a discussion on the contextual meaning of the word “everything” in the parable of the pearl.

Today, as I started back into the chapter on Desire in Ilia’s Book, I conveniently found her talking about both topics.

“If we desire love and wholeness, then we need to take our desires seriously.  We need to pay attention to our desires for they are the deepest cravings within us.  In our Western materialistic culture, we tend to desire passing things, things that are material in nature — “its.”  But the desire that is life giving is a desire for a “Thou” — God.”

I have a son who is a freshmen in High School.

I speak to him often about being aware of his passions.  I want him to be aware of his innermost desires, because I want him to use them to shape his life.  I want his desires to establish his vocation, because I think that gives him the best possible chance at happiness.

To his credit, he has taken this advice seriously.  He dreams of going to West Point, of becoming a Ranger, and he organizes his life with that goal in mind.  He understands his grades matter now, and he finished the first semester of his high school career with straight A’s.  He also pursues athletics and other activities in an effort to build a resume that will allow him to compete for entry into an academy.

He sees this is an honorable choice, because it will place him in a position of service to his fellow man.  I agree, and I am willing to help him achieve this goal in any way I can.

But, at fifteen, he is not yet capable of understanding what “service to his fellow man” means.

He thinks, for instance, that “its” play a large role in preparing to serve.

He is currently obsessed with getting a Ghillie Suit.  We agreed this would be his main Christmas present, and he helped place the order.  He then proceeded to harass his Mom daily (in less than kindly fashion) about checking on the manufacturing status.  Once it shipped, the first words out of his mouth upon walking in the house after school are “Is it here yet !?!?”

I wish that I could get him to understand that he could begin serving right now.  He could, for instance, empty the dishwasher without being asked instead of harassing his mother about the status of his order.

I want him to understand that possession of an “it” has nothing to do with developing the qualities needed to be a good officer.  I wish he would grasp that the most important thing he can pursue right now is not excellence at being stealthy, but excellence at understanding how desire for “Thou” (God) is the source of his desire to serve.

If he would embrace the desire for “Thou” now, he could speed the process along.  He might even start developing service habits now, instead of spending every free moment playing Call of Duty: World at War on his computer, as if that somehow represented how heroes actually function in this world.

How does a father influence the desires of his fifteen year old son when the world beckons him so intently?

So far, I haven’t found that answer, other than to hope that the overall weight of my suggestions will come to bear in time.

Model of the "Jesus Boat"

This is the link for Matthew Chapter 14, and verses 29 to 31.

“Come,” He said. Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!” Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?”

Put yourself in this location, first literally, and then figuratively.

What storms are swirling around you?  What are you avoiding because you are afraid you might drown?  What is your safe haven, the boat you are afraid to step out of?  Is Jesus asking you to come, despite your trepidation, and are you resisting Him?

Are doubt and lack of Faith stopping you from tackling something you need to confront in order to fulfill the desires God has for you?

My last two posts have been about feeling out of control and helpless in the face of the world.

I am afraid of drowning in the world.  I am reluctant to face that reality.  I doubt I can walk in the world and maintain who I want to be.  I don’t want to step out of my boat, my safe harbor, in order to confront the world and assume my place in it.

But Jesus is saying to me, “Come.”  He wants me to set aside my doubt, to embrace Faith, and to trust that He will guide me through the storm of the world to a place where I can be productive and happy.

If I will believe, anything is possible.

Often I feel that the world is my greatest impediment, always working against me, and insurmountable.

In truth, it is doubt and lack of Faith that hold me back.

Jesus, right now, is reaching out to me to keep me from drowning.  With His help, I can walk on water.

I can face anything, conquer anything, and become who He wants me to be.