photo by Gisela Giardino
Here is the link to Matthew Chapter 21, and a portion of verse 31.
Jesus said to them, “I tell you the truth……”
I actually started this contemplation with this fuller portion of the text.
Jesus said to them, “I tell you the truth, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God ahead of you.
But as I went along, my attention became more and more focused on the shorter phrase.
The simple realization that the Gospels are the finest repository of truth that we could ever hope to encounter is profound beyond my ability to express. I have been attempting in The Chapters thread to focus on these Gospels in consistent fashion. Its easy in the midst of that to forget what an exceptional gift they are.
Item seven in my prayer structure involves being aware of my emotional response as I engage in contemplation. I often find that difficult to do, but these straightforward words left me overwhelmed by feelings of thankfulness. I ended up with a profound internal silence because there is no way to verbally express the depth and intensity of the emotion.
If I then go back to the context and the fuller quote, the truth just gains profundity.
These words are spoken to the “chief priests and elders of the people.” Jesus is warning them to embrace repentance.
Why are they in need of repentance? What have the done wrong?
The bottom line is they are in the process of rejecting Jesus and His teachings. In other words, they are rejecting the truth of the Gospels.
In their arrogance, they regard their point of view as infallible truth. Beyond that, they are actively blocking the truth of revelation as embodied by John the Baptist and Jesus from the masses in an effort to ensure their version of truth goes unchallenged.
Really, its easy to see why Jesus said what He said. Compared to what these religious leaders are engaged in, the sins of tax collectors and prostitutes are minor.
Sitting here, I have no choice but to ask myself, how often do I seek to place my own personal version of truth ahead of what the Gospels offer? How often am I guilty of the same thing these chief priests and elders are guilty of?
And then, am I truly repentant for the many, many, many times I have done this?
Here is the link to Matthew Chapter 20, and the text from verses 20 to 28:
20Then the mother of Zebedee’s sons came to Jesus with her sons and, kneeling down, asked a favor of him.
21“What is it you want?” he asked. She said, “Grant that one of these two sons of mine may sit at your right and the other at your left in your kingdom.”
22“You don’t know what you are asking,” Jesus said to them. “Can you drink the cup I am going to drink?” “We can,” they answered.
23Jesus said to them, “You will indeed drink from my cup, but to sit at my right or left is not for me to grant. These places belong to those for whom they have been prepared by my Father.”
24When the ten heard about this, they were indignant with the two brothers. 25Jesus called them together and said, “You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. 26Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, 27and whoever wants to be first must be your slave— 28just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”
Typically, I only give one phrase or verse as the basis of my contemplation. But it has been more than two months since I wrote Empty (two months since I wrote anything in this forum). The angst I expressed in that post is still with me. But this Gospel passage, perhaps, can serve as a starting point for moving on.
I should have known that the Gospel would address the situation directly, and that it would provide me with comfort and potential paths forward.
Here is one potential synopsis of this passage.
“Grant that…….”
- In other words, the sons of Zebedee seek glory for themselves.
“You do not know…….”
- Jesus points out their ignorance, reminding them of their inherent human weaknesses and shortcomings.
“We can.”
- They ignore Him. Despite the reminder, they display arrogance, believing themselves able to do what only Jesus can do.
“When the ten heard about this…….”
- Arrogance and a desire for glory lead to dissension and conflict among men, even men that are friends.
“Jesus called them together…….”
- Jesus, as always, answers by serving as teacher. He works to turn the negative to the positive by seizing the opportunity to lay the truth before those who are blinded to that truth by the conflict they have created for themselves.
What is that truth?
The truth is that we are not supposed to be like the “Gentiles.” We are not supposed to seek earthly political power in an effort to “Lord it over” others.
Instead, we are to reject power in favor of service. It is one of the great mysteries of the life of Jesus. Only in embracing the role of slave is greatness possible.
Our current set of politicians, on both sides of the aisle, are obsessed with the type of power that Jesus asks us to reject. We call them public servants, but they serve no one but themselves. They do not seek to empower us. In their arrogance, they enact laws that negate God given freedom in a myriad of ways. They impose their will upon us (“Lord it over” us), forcing us to follow the rules they establish.
Conflict results, and the possibility of progress is lost within that conflict.
Our overall mindset as a people teaches us to seek power, and to laud those who manage to obtain it. But we are intensely misguided. We behave like the “Gentiles” Jesus is describing, expending great amounts of energy in search of the exact opposite of what He teaches us to seek. We should not be surprised that our religiosity suffers. If we continuously act as “Gentiles,” then that is what we must become.
And when we become that, our ability to follow the servant model of Jesus is lost.
The solutions to the woes of America must, necessarily, lie outside the sphere of government. This Gospel passage is a firm reminder of that.
The question is, how will we as a people re-learn this lesson? How can we begin to embrace the notion that political power, by and large, must be rejected as the source of solutions before progress can be made?
What might be done to set an example that could convince the people to return to the teaching of Christ that calls us to the life of servant?
I posted this today on a Facebook page, under a discussion topic heading that read ‘What Would Jesus Say?”
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.
My ability to write, to concentrate, and to pray has disappeared over the past week.
Its a direct result of what’s happening in the country.
I believe that liberty is a gift from God. I find the words of Thomas Jefferson to be exactly true.
“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”
As it became apparent that health reform would pass, my ability to embrace quiet left me.
No matter what I was doing, I was distracted. The arrogance of my government, and the potential ramifications of what they have chosen to do, are too complicated to explain, or even to grasp.
On one hand, I hope that soon my ability to find peace will return.
On the other, I know that I can’t ignore this, and simply resume my usual routine.
What shall I do to ensure the future of my family?
I don’t know when I will be back to this forum.
I just know it can’t be forced.
La Maddalena
As part of the study group materials, Sister included a selection from a book entitled In the Footsteps of Francis And Clare.
The chapter was entitled Meeting and Embracing a Leper (La Maddalena). It discusses Francis’ encounter with the leper, giving a detailed background on the area around Assisi where the encounter likely happened. La Maddalena is a chapel that was present at a leper hospital in the time of Francis. It still stands today.
At the end of this short chapter, the author writes,
“……There’s not one of us who doesn’t need healing. So it is to all of us that Jesus and Francis speak by their actions. In stretching out his hand (Mark 1:40-42), touching that leper and healing him, in getting off one’s high horse and allowing compassion to surge within one’s heart, we learn that God does love us no matter how damaged or broken we are and offers us healing.
But in addition to what God wants to do for us, there’s the matter of what God wants us to do for one another. We too are to be healers, to reach out and touch the marginal, the outcast, to bring respect and dignity into others’ lives.”
When I asked the question “Is Poverty Evil?”, I think I was attempting to change the focus from the situation, to the people.
I am not arguing that we should stop providing basic necessities to people in need.
But I think we need to understand that food and water may not be the most crucial resources we can offer.
As this quote says, the most fundamental needs are not material. They are described by words like “respect” and “dignity.”
How do we convey such nebulous gifts?
The only way is to demonstrate genuine love.
If you take someone in need a loaf of bread and a jug of water, but you treat them poorly, and you don’t demonstrate sincere love for them as an equal in the eyes of your mutual Creator, have you really helped them at all?
Maybe, on the margins.
But the example of Francis goes much deeper than that. When he showed up at the Leper colony, alms were not the primary gift he bore.
The primary gift was love, love as he understood it to be embodied by Jesus in the Gospels.
The transparency of his love is what brought him the stature he gained.
That is the example we most need to learn to follow.
The Narrow Road
This post continues the discussion from Is Poverty Evil? Please reference both that post and its comments to place this post in context.
As a Franciscan, I believe my spiritual father Francis has much to offer in this troubled modern time. If our world were to engage and embrace his charism, I think it would be transformed, much for the better.
One of the main tenets of that charism is renewal. Francis was specifically called by God to rebuild the Church. At first, he took that instruction literally, and began to go around Assisi begging construction materials to rebuild dilapidated churches in the area. Later, he understood the greater implications of God’s request, and he went on to the work of rebuilding the spirit of the Church.
I see today’s world as desperately in need of a similar renewal. But I also understand just how deeply counter cultural my way of thinking is. Ideas like the “privilege of poverty” are hard to translate for someone holding a modern mindset.
This leaves me the task of discerning how best to communicate with those who, due to a lifetime of conditioning, are typically adverse to the system of thought I find so compelling.
If I am unwilling to be precise in the words I use, then I should expect it to be that much harder to convey my message.
If the authors of St. Francis and the Foolishness of God
But by using the word poverty instead of greed, they merged the two ideas.
God routinely takes the evil acts of this human world and translates them into a greater good.
When greed and poverty are equated in this discussion, the space for God to intervene is jeopardized.
The authors of the book, on a subconscious level, seem to understand this. Here is the full context of the previous quote.
“Here we do have a paradox. Poverty is ugly and dehumanizing; it is an evil that must be eliminated. Yet, in encountering the poor, we often discover beauty and graced humanity. Indeed, in encountering the poor ones of the world, we find God.”
The truth is, there is no paradox. Where I see victims, God finds an opportunity to bless people in ways that I, because of my prejudices, am reluctant to understand. This is an example of the majesty and perfection of God’s creation, yet I label it as paradox because I lack the depth or the fortitude to make the examination that reveals there may be no such thing as paradox where God is concerned.
I need the poor to be victims because I want the ability to minister to them. I so desperately want to do the work of God that I unconsciously view the world through that lens. I see opportunities to serve Him, even if that perhaps is not what I was supposed to see.
And Francis proves this. When he got off his horse, he gave alms to the leper. But in the end, he placed himself in a position where he was no longer able to give alms. He embraced the poor so thoroughly that his mission shifted from serving them to being them.
He understood that he did not need to rescue them. They already had the better lot. He was the one that needed rescuing. He needed to allow them to transform him so that he might gain the blessings they already enjoyed.
The Beatitudes are also referenced in this chapter. They begin “Blessed are the poor…..”
The poor are not blessed because of future rewards to be received for hardship endured. They are blessed immediately, in the current context, simply because God finds it good to bless them based on their poverty.
I am fine with the notion that I should help them obtain the basic necessities of life. But I am not so sure that I have much to offer beyond that. In fact, to believe that I do makes it possible that I will do them considerable harm by trying to make them more like me.
It seems to me that Francis approached the poor more as people to be emulated than people to be transformed.
He did not wish to rescue them from victimhood.
He wished to join them in their state of blessing.
Here is the link to Matthew Chapter 19, and the text from verse 27.
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.
Satish
In preparation for my Franciscan study group this weekend, I am reading, among other things, the first chapter of a book entitled St. Francis and the Foolishness of God.
The title of that chapter is The Conversion of Francis: Encounter with the Poor.
The chapter begins by recounting Francis’ encounter with a leper on the outskirts of Assisi. Francis was horrified by the disease of leprosy. But then God said to him, “all which you used to avoid will turn itself to great sweetness and exceeding joy.” Shortly thereafter, Francis met a leper on the road. He overcame his fear, got down from his horse, gave the leper alms, kissed his diseased hands, and was rewarded with just the sweetness and joy that God had promised him.
This event is a seminal moment of conversion in the life of the young Francis. Thereafter, he regularly ministered to the lepers, and to the poor in general. This regular exposure to the poor contributed deeply to his understanding of Jesus and the cross.
I read this chapter once, and was left with an uneasy feeling. Somehow, I felt the authors were missing something significant. I then read the other materials, and came back to the chapter to reread it. About halfway through (top of page 19), I came to rest upon this quote:
“Poverty is ugly and dehumanizing; it is an evil that must be eliminated.”
The quote, in context, refers to poverty in a third world sense. The chapter makes reference to El Salvador, and other such places.
But no matter the context, this is an astonishing quote to find in a work on St. Francis.
Poverty is one of the greatest Franciscan ideals. St. Clare clung stubbornly to a rule embracing “the privilege of poverty” her entire lifetime, finally to be rewarded on her deathbed with the approval of a Pope who had come for one last visit with her. Francis considered “lady poverty” his spouse, embracing the notion so fervently that he prohibited his brothers not only from possessing money, but from even touching it.
I feel compelled to add that their embrace of poverty was not just a spiritual one. They embraced poverty on the ground, giving away literally every possession they had. They sought out and embraced lives of material poverty as part and parcel to their calling.
I struggle, day by day, hour by hour, to find a way to properly embrace poverty within the context of my own journey. I can not do so as forcefully as Francis and Clare, but nonetheless, I must find a way to live out the spirit of poverty they so clearly embody.
Yet this book, and some of the other materials as well, argue that justice requires the elimination of poverty wherever it is encountered. The authors suggest that the proper response of a Franciscan to a person dwelling in poverty is to do everything they can to lift that person out of that situation.
I am trying to do everything I can to get to poverty.
But, when confronted with it, I am supposed to teach the person who already dwells where I wish to go, that they should reject the life I seek, and instead become more like the me I am attempting to leave behind.
I don’t see how I can embrace that message.
I haven’t gotten far enough yet to reach my own conclusion about what the interaction between Francis and the poor represents, but I do not think the quote above properly expresses where Francis stood. More reflection is required. There must be more to follow here.
But I do know that poverty is not evil.
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.