At least once a year, at Christmas or Easter, it seems like some new article or news program attempts to define for us who Jesus really was in contrast to what the Church teaches. And though we can fault them for any biases they inject into their productions, we cannot fault them for asking the question "Who is Jesus?", because it is a perennial question. Since returning to the Catholic faith, I have not tired of asking this question, and I would suggest that, whether we know it or not, we all have asked ourselves this question to some degree or another at multiple points in our life.
Like the disciples in today's gospel, we are challenged in our understanding of who Jesus is in the midst of trials, tribulation, or suffering; and, depending on what kind of relationship we have with him, we may come to different answers. For example, the disciples had clearly been formulating an opinion about Jesus from the miracles he performed during the days, weeks or months preceding this day when they crossed to the other side of the sea of Galilee. I am sure that, by this time, they had pretty high hopes for this Jesus whom they were following. After all, a voice from heaven declared that he was "my Beloved Son" and even the demons which he cast out called him "the Holy One of God"!
Then comes the storm. Now, sudden storms like this are not uncommon on the Sea of Galilee, so it may not have been a surprise to the disciples, but what made this storm different in their minds was who they had in the boat with them. We need to consider that in the ancient near east in the time and place of the disciples, storms were depicted as manifestations of evil and chaos. In addition, we are familiar with the ancient misconception that an unfortunate death implied that you were a sinner or cursed and forsaken by God. Taken altogether, is it any wonder why the disciples asked Jesus, "Do you not care that we are perishing?" I can hear the unspoken questions they asked themselves. "What will the world think of us if we perish this way? We thought he could be the messiah! Doesn't he care?! His reputation is on the line. Our reputation is on the line! Is he not who we thought he was?" This storm then posed more than a physical threat, it was an attack on their hope, on their concept of who Jesus was; and they were afraid.
How many of us, if we are honest with ourselves, have questioned God in this manner? Haven't we wondered or cried out in the midst of our suffering or some other crisis: "Where are you? Don't you care? Do you even exist?" How many of us have asked. "What have I done to deserve this?" or "ls this how you treat those who love you?" These are fair questions and they are not new. They proceed from every human life and they demand an adequate answer; but, continuing to be honest with ourselves, under what conditions do we ask these questions? Are we in a regular daily conversation with God, or is this the first time in months that we sought his attention? Do we really have a relationship with the Lord, or do we only turn to him in our distress, and then only to be angry with him? Am I faithfully visiting him at Sunday Mass and adoring hini in the Blessed Sacrament? Do I go to penance regularly? Do I pray to him daily?
If my answer to these questions is "no", then it is my faith that is asleep in the storm, not the Lord. But, what if I have been doing all those things and I still cry? Am I wrong? In such circumstances, I would say that I was like Job. Job was a very righteous and holy man who suffered without cause simply because Satan desired it. God permitted Job to suffer greatly and Job basically asked "Where are you? Don't you care? Do you even exist?" Job wanted to be vindicated. He wanted to know why he was suffering when he had done nothing wrong. He didn't believe God would
allow such a thing to occur. He had an idea of who God was, but his image of God was incomplete. Yet, an amazing thing happened in the midst of Job's suffering. God revealed himself to Job! Job thought he knew God, but his concept of God was challenged when tragedy struck. Thus confronted, he had to come to terms with Who God really was. At the end of his suffering, Job saw that God's ways were far beyond his human understanding and was humbled, but more importantly he was moved toward a clearer understanding of Who God is.
The same opportunity can be found in the midst of our tragedies; thus when we are finished asking our questions, the Lord rightfully asks us like he asked the disciples: "Why are you so terrified? Do you not yet have faith?" Beyond a mere chastisement, Jesus' response prompts us to evaluate the status of our ordinary everyday faith in God. Jesus demonstrates the type of faith we ought to have. He is asleep in the boat while everyone else was panicking. It is the kind of faith called "Abandonment to Divine Providence", in a book of the same name by Jean Pierre de Cassaud. A compelling title. It clearly reflects what we see in Jesus' behavior during the storm.
Jesus can sleep because has an eternal perspective. He knows that whatever happens to us has already been known to the Father and whatever the outcome may be, God has accounted for it and has a plan to redeem it even when we do not understand it. We very often speak as if God is only seeing the events of our lives as they happen to us, and that he does not or cannot take action until we are in the midst of them. We must remind ourselves that God is eternal and outside of time. He is totally timeless and time is just another of his creatures. Knowing this enabled Jesus to keep his human will completely disposed to the will of the Father. As he says in John 5:30 "I can do nothing on my own authority...I do not seek my own will but the will of the one who sent me.
We, too, must strive to develop this attitude of abandonment in which we realize that no tragedy that befalls us has to be a cause for fear or doubt, but for absolute trust in God who from all eternity has seen and known and provided an answer for us in the Person of Jesus. As the Catechism of the Catholic Church 1009 states:
"Death is transformed by Christ. Jesus, the Son of God, also himself suffered the death that is part of the human condition. Yet, despite his anguish as he faced death, he accepted it in an act of complete and free submission to his Father's will. The obedience of Jesus has transformed the curse of death into a blessing."
And so, "Who is this then that even the wind and the waves obey him?" He is an eternal Answer to the question posed by each and every human life.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Reflection on Hospital Ministry
Reflecting upon my assignment, I am reminded of Saint Paul’s words in Philippians 3:10-11, “…that I may know [Christ] and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, that if possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead.” These verses highlight the desire I had for my visits at Holy Spirit Hospital to be more than anecdotal and my hope that I would come to know Christ through the patients and that they might also know Christ through me. Although I cannot speak for the patients, I can say that I saw the mystery of Christ’s union with humanity come to light in a way that I had not anticipated.
To be honest, many visits were brief and somewhat awkward. Beginning a visit could be difficult and I first had to fight off the urge to cut short the possibility of ministering simply because of my feelings or negative first impressions. Then I had to resist the urge to manufacture something meaningful of an encounter in order to settle my own conscience. Pushing through my personal inhibitions, I discovered that my most successful encounters were sometimes those which were the most difficult to begin and, each time I went, I felt called to remain with at least one or two people in particular.
Over the weeks, I was moved to meditate on the meaning of a human life, the significance of a human person as a historical/temporal being, and how s/he is formed by experiences, especially the one of which I had become a part at Holy Spirit. As I entered a room, I saw myself entering a person’s history and pondered the depth of the notion and the potential each entrance contained. If permitted, it would be my privilege to enter into the experiences of another, adding to the totality of who s/he was and what God intended for him/her.
But, who was I and what did I really have to offer anybody? I had no cure and no particular agenda. I knew nothing about the person except his/her name and that s/he was a patient at HSH. Thus impoverished, I could only offer myself and my presence and I developed a sense of openness and receptivity that paid tribute to each patient’s dignity as a person created in the image of God. I saw that patients were susceptible to losing their sense of dignity because of their sufferings. After all, how dignified can you feel with a tube up your nose or in your neck, or when wearing one of those hospital gowns? Nonetheless, I could see some were coming to terms with their sufferings while others had already come to accept them and were bearing them with great grace. In each case, I believe that before me was an encounter with Christ Himself, whether or not it was immediately discernable to me, and that he was not just asking me to offer myself to the person, but to God, and that somehow He was offering Himself to me.
I was especially blessed by the older patients who shared their stories with me, because they were inviting me inside their hearts to share in who they were. In those periods of protracted listening, I received a glimmer of what “becoming like him in his death” might mean and I experienced a type of communion with them as each of us became part of the other’s history, leaving a memory that would not soon be forgotten. While many encounters and experiences in my life may go by almost without another thought, these minutes were long, deep, and substantial.
The most uncomfortable situations were the ones in which the patient was unable to communicate with me. At times like these, words would have been gratuitous and a sympathetic glance followed by a prayer seemed to be appropriate. Such patient visits were always easier if the family was around. Regardless of these encounters, I did not find my assignments too difficult to face or too much to bear, and I ultimately found that the hardest part of being in the pastoral ministry program at Holy Spirit Hospital was leaving.
To be honest, many visits were brief and somewhat awkward. Beginning a visit could be difficult and I first had to fight off the urge to cut short the possibility of ministering simply because of my feelings or negative first impressions. Then I had to resist the urge to manufacture something meaningful of an encounter in order to settle my own conscience. Pushing through my personal inhibitions, I discovered that my most successful encounters were sometimes those which were the most difficult to begin and, each time I went, I felt called to remain with at least one or two people in particular.
Over the weeks, I was moved to meditate on the meaning of a human life, the significance of a human person as a historical/temporal being, and how s/he is formed by experiences, especially the one of which I had become a part at Holy Spirit. As I entered a room, I saw myself entering a person’s history and pondered the depth of the notion and the potential each entrance contained. If permitted, it would be my privilege to enter into the experiences of another, adding to the totality of who s/he was and what God intended for him/her.
But, who was I and what did I really have to offer anybody? I had no cure and no particular agenda. I knew nothing about the person except his/her name and that s/he was a patient at HSH. Thus impoverished, I could only offer myself and my presence and I developed a sense of openness and receptivity that paid tribute to each patient’s dignity as a person created in the image of God. I saw that patients were susceptible to losing their sense of dignity because of their sufferings. After all, how dignified can you feel with a tube up your nose or in your neck, or when wearing one of those hospital gowns? Nonetheless, I could see some were coming to terms with their sufferings while others had already come to accept them and were bearing them with great grace. In each case, I believe that before me was an encounter with Christ Himself, whether or not it was immediately discernable to me, and that he was not just asking me to offer myself to the person, but to God, and that somehow He was offering Himself to me.
I was especially blessed by the older patients who shared their stories with me, because they were inviting me inside their hearts to share in who they were. In those periods of protracted listening, I received a glimmer of what “becoming like him in his death” might mean and I experienced a type of communion with them as each of us became part of the other’s history, leaving a memory that would not soon be forgotten. While many encounters and experiences in my life may go by almost without another thought, these minutes were long, deep, and substantial.
The most uncomfortable situations were the ones in which the patient was unable to communicate with me. At times like these, words would have been gratuitous and a sympathetic glance followed by a prayer seemed to be appropriate. Such patient visits were always easier if the family was around. Regardless of these encounters, I did not find my assignments too difficult to face or too much to bear, and I ultimately found that the hardest part of being in the pastoral ministry program at Holy Spirit Hospital was leaving.
Friday, April 3, 2009
Homily on Luke 1:39-45
The Catholic Church has stated her position on life in the womb with these words from the Universal Catechism: “’Human life is sacred because from its beginning it involvesthe creative action of God…who is its sole end…. [N]o one can under any circumstance claim for himself the right directly to destroy an innocent human being.’” (Paragraph 2258) Despite the historicity of this teaching, some Catholics claim that the Church has not always defended the sanctity of human life in the womb. Today we find that a silent Jesus has something to say to the very people who want to bear His name and, at the same time, deny that human life within the womb has the right to be born.
Turning to the gospel we read, “Mary set out in those days….” What days? This passage immediately follows the Annunciation, when Mary said “Yes” to God. Now, were you to ask Mary on the day of the Annunciation if she planned on becoming pregnant that day or if she wanted to become pregnant that day, the answer would have been, “No.” Yet, regardless of what she planned or what she may have wanted, Mary accepted the Word of the Lord and welcomed the conception of that Word in her womb. Granted, the circumstances of her pregnancy were entirely unlike those many women find themselves in today; nonetheless, Mary demonstrates the appropriate response to an “unplanned” pregnancy: Regardless of how they come to us, children are not objects to be wanted or unwanted; rather, they are gifts of God, to be received as willingly as he receives us.
Continuing, we discover that Mary set out “in haste” to see Elizabeth. This would mean that Jesus would have been anywhere from a few days to a few weeks old in Mary’s womb at the time of her visit. What does Elizabeth, “filled with the Holy Spirit”, declare about this “blob of cells” in Mary’s womb? She proclaims him “Lord!” What is more, Elizabeth declares Mary a “mother”. If Christ were merely a soulless mass of cells and not a human life, how could Mary rightly be called a mother? By the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, then, Saint Luke and Saint Elizabeth declare the personhood of the child in the womb from the earliest stages of pregnancy.
Still people object, saying that women will face poverty and other burdens if they must give birth to an unwanted child. This objection is not without some merit. If we are pro-life, we cannot be pro-fetus only. Both mother and child are human persons who must be afforded the rights of human dignity. Here, again, Mary serves as a model.
Elizabeth was already beyond the age of bearing children when she miraculously became fertile. We can imagine what a toll such a pregnancy might have on her at her age, especially in those days. Mary knew this, too, and wasted no time in offering her loving service to Elizabeth until Saint John was born. She shows us that we must respond “in haste” when we encounter a person who is experiencing difficulties as a result of pregnancy.
Young or old, planned or unplanned, wanted or unwanted, like the Blessed Mother, Christians must be the first to provide what may be lacking in order to help struggling mothers bring their babies to term. We must focus on establishing a quality of life for both a mother and her child before and after she gives birth. We have an obligation to establish, promote, and proclaim a system of justice to which frightened and vulnerable mothers can turn in their time of need. They already know that they can get abortions, and in the absence of a known alternative that communicates real peace and hope, the likelihood that a mother will choose to abort her child can only increase.
Ultimately, we must avoid being misguided and lopsided in our approach to human rights. On the one hand, those who support the rights of the mother, her freedom of conscience, and her right to privacy at the expense of the child in her womb, promote the violation of the most fundamental of all rights, the right to life, which is akin to murder. As we read in the Compendium of Catholic Social Teaching, “The first right…is the right to life, from conception to its natural end, which is the condition for the exercise of all other rights and…implies the illicitness of every form of procured abortion….” (Paragraph 155)
On the other hand, those who raise their voices, join marches, and vote pro-life in an effort to promote the right to life of the unborn, lose credibility and will lose the battle if they fail to provide an adequate alternative that considers the dignity of both persons. Make haste, therefore, and follow Mary’s example. Words alone will not change hearts and minds. Make haste, for in this age, and in these United States, with so much at our disposal, can we be held guiltless for failing to help establish real alternatives to abortion and bring about its extinction?
Turning to the gospel we read, “Mary set out in those days….” What days? This passage immediately follows the Annunciation, when Mary said “Yes” to God. Now, were you to ask Mary on the day of the Annunciation if she planned on becoming pregnant that day or if she wanted to become pregnant that day, the answer would have been, “No.” Yet, regardless of what she planned or what she may have wanted, Mary accepted the Word of the Lord and welcomed the conception of that Word in her womb. Granted, the circumstances of her pregnancy were entirely unlike those many women find themselves in today; nonetheless, Mary demonstrates the appropriate response to an “unplanned” pregnancy: Regardless of how they come to us, children are not objects to be wanted or unwanted; rather, they are gifts of God, to be received as willingly as he receives us.
Continuing, we discover that Mary set out “in haste” to see Elizabeth. This would mean that Jesus would have been anywhere from a few days to a few weeks old in Mary’s womb at the time of her visit. What does Elizabeth, “filled with the Holy Spirit”, declare about this “blob of cells” in Mary’s womb? She proclaims him “Lord!” What is more, Elizabeth declares Mary a “mother”. If Christ were merely a soulless mass of cells and not a human life, how could Mary rightly be called a mother? By the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, then, Saint Luke and Saint Elizabeth declare the personhood of the child in the womb from the earliest stages of pregnancy.
Still people object, saying that women will face poverty and other burdens if they must give birth to an unwanted child. This objection is not without some merit. If we are pro-life, we cannot be pro-fetus only. Both mother and child are human persons who must be afforded the rights of human dignity. Here, again, Mary serves as a model.
Elizabeth was already beyond the age of bearing children when she miraculously became fertile. We can imagine what a toll such a pregnancy might have on her at her age, especially in those days. Mary knew this, too, and wasted no time in offering her loving service to Elizabeth until Saint John was born. She shows us that we must respond “in haste” when we encounter a person who is experiencing difficulties as a result of pregnancy.
Young or old, planned or unplanned, wanted or unwanted, like the Blessed Mother, Christians must be the first to provide what may be lacking in order to help struggling mothers bring their babies to term. We must focus on establishing a quality of life for both a mother and her child before and after she gives birth. We have an obligation to establish, promote, and proclaim a system of justice to which frightened and vulnerable mothers can turn in their time of need. They already know that they can get abortions, and in the absence of a known alternative that communicates real peace and hope, the likelihood that a mother will choose to abort her child can only increase.
Ultimately, we must avoid being misguided and lopsided in our approach to human rights. On the one hand, those who support the rights of the mother, her freedom of conscience, and her right to privacy at the expense of the child in her womb, promote the violation of the most fundamental of all rights, the right to life, which is akin to murder. As we read in the Compendium of Catholic Social Teaching, “The first right…is the right to life, from conception to its natural end, which is the condition for the exercise of all other rights and…implies the illicitness of every form of procured abortion….” (Paragraph 155)
On the other hand, those who raise their voices, join marches, and vote pro-life in an effort to promote the right to life of the unborn, lose credibility and will lose the battle if they fail to provide an adequate alternative that considers the dignity of both persons. Make haste, therefore, and follow Mary’s example. Words alone will not change hearts and minds. Make haste, for in this age, and in these United States, with so much at our disposal, can we be held guiltless for failing to help establish real alternatives to abortion and bring about its extinction?
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