Dusting Ourselves Off

It has been shown that children who play in the dirt, with all its hidden microbes (germs), develop stronger immune systems compared with children who have never made mud pies or slid into first base. It’s the same principle behind vaccines; the body has to encounter a germ to learn how to recognize it and defend against it.

In other words, the body gets stronger by facing adversity—and the same can be said of the human spirit. Today’s children who are experiencing the COVID-19 pandemic are likely to grow up to be resilient, creative adults who value human connection and understand the need to take care of each other. This bodes well for society in the years to come.

Another spiritual benefit of facing adversity is that it humbles us and leads us to turn to God. The psalms are filled with pleas to God: “Have mercy on me, O God” (Ps 51:3). “Save me, O God, for the waters have risen to my neck” (Ps 69:2). “Hear, O God, the voice of my complaint” (Ps 64:1). Demetrius Dunn notes, “…we do not bother to complain to someone who does not love us!” Thus turning to God in our distress provides the comfort of remembering that God loves us. It also provides hope, as we recall how God has saved us and others in the past. We can overcome adversity, as long as we let go of our pride and let God and others help us.

The pandemic has brought us to our knees, where our former way of life has hit the dustbin—but as we rise and dust ourselves off, we will be stronger in spirit as we recognize our limitations and our interconnectedness with others and God. New life awaits!

Reflecting the Light of Christ

I've never liked blue jays — they are noisy, aggressive, and territorial birds. However, I have to admit that they have beautiful coloring. Recently, in the online journal Brain Pickings by Maria Popova, I came across this fascinating information:

 “In the living world … blue is the rarest color: There is no naturally occurring true blue pigment in nature. In consequence, only a slender portion of plants bloom in blue and an even more negligible number of animals are bedecked with it, all having to perform various tricks with chemistry and the physics of light, some having evolved astonishing triumphs of structural geometry to render themselves blue: Each feather of the blue jay is tessellated with tiny light-reflecting beads arranged to cancel out every wavelength of light except the blue; the wings of the blue morpho butterflies … are covered with miniature scales ridged at the precise angle to bend light in such a way that only the blue portion of the spectrum is reflected to the eye of the beholder.”

It occurs to me that when Paul instructs us to “clothe yourselves with the Lord Jesus Christ” (Rm 13:14) he is asking us to do something similar: bend light in such a way that the love of Christ is reflected to the eye of the beholder. We are to cancel out wavelengths of fear, hatred, judgment, greed, and envy so only the Christlike portion of the spectrum is reflected: love, compassion, mercy, and forgiveness. It’s not that the other characteristics don’t exist in our world, but we can deflect them to create a life that is more pleasing and life giving to the eye and the soul.

As the natural world contains few plants and animals that have mastered the art of reflecting light to render themselves blue, few people have become truly skilled in bending light to reflect the love of Christ. The good news is that we get better at reflecting the light as we practice being kind, forgiving, and generous. As we pass on these skills to subsequent generations, eventually they will become inbred and humans will evolve into a people who are naturally Christlike, with the fullness of life that God has envisioned for us.

Blue jays, blue morpho butterflies, and other blue plants and creatures are signs of hope that we too can master the physics of light, not to make ourselves appear blue, but to clothe ourselves in the love of Christ.

A Radical Call

Responding to God’s call is a long, evolving process for many people. However, Scripture also gives us examples of an immediate response—for example, when the Ninevites instantly repented upon hearing Jonah’s dire words about their impending destruction; when Simon, Andrew, James and John abandoned their fishing nets to follow Jesus; and when Paul was baptized and began to preach the good news after being blinded by a dazzling light on the road to Damascus.

In our own times, people throughout the world have been visited by the same messenger, which we call the COVID-19 virus. As Sr. Barbara Reid notes in Give Us This Day, “We are urged to recognize that a new time presses upon us, requiring different responses from before. There is nothing ordinary about the invitation to follow Jesus more radically in this urgent time.”

How does the virus invite us to follow Jesus more radically? It calls us to repentance about our callous disregard for the animals with which we share the earth, because our encroachment on their habitat leads not only to their destruction but to our own as we acquire diseases from them. The exceptionally contagious virus reminds us that we need to follow Christ today because we might not be here to do it tomorrow. It also demonstrates the urgent need to “Be devoted to one another in love; honor one another above yourselves” as Paul says in Romans 12:10. In our days, that translates to wearing masks and practicing physical distancing to help keep others safe from the virus.

In Deuteronomy 30: 19-20, God says, “I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life, so that you and your children may live and that you may love the Lord your God, listen to his voice, and hold fast to him.” God says the same thing to us today, and the times call us to an immediate and whole-hearted response.

Your Servant Is Listening

The childhood of the prophet Samuel is instructive for anyone who is parenting or mentoring a young person. Samuel’s mother, Hannah, had been barren, and after God heard her plea for a child and she gave birth, she dedicated the life of her son to the service of God. Thus Samuel was taken to the temple and entrusted to a priest, Eli. It fell to Eli to help Samuel discern when he was hearing God’s call. He told Samuel, “…if you are called, reply, ‘Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.’”

Samuel was blessed in having a mentor who taught him early to identify God’s voice, to listen, and to understand that he was God’s servant. It takes many people a lifetime to learn that. Those who identify their vocation at an early age are particularly effective partners with God in creating a beautiful and just world because they have learned how to be their true selves early in their life span. An example is Martin Luther King, Jr., who found his voice as a preacher and social justice advocate at a young age and had a remarkable effect on the world before his life was cut short.

We hear in 1 Samuel 3: 19, “As Samuel grew up, the Lord was with him and let none of his words fall to the ground” (or, as it says in another translation, “not permitting any word of his to be without effect”). I wonder how many of us are standing in the midst of a pile of God’s words that have fallen to the ground because we either don’t recognize them or aren’t willing to allow them to enter the ear of our heart. Eventually God’s word is able to penetrate us, for as God says in Isaiah 55: 11, “…my word shall not return to me void, but shall do my will, achieving the end for which I sent it.” How much better when we can allow that word to achieve its end now rather than at the end of our life, for the world is in great need of healing and joy that we can provide by recognizing and responding to our vocation, whatever it may be.

Safeguarding Love

The other day during morning prayer in the choir chapel, as we were singing the refrain “My heart will rejoice in your love,” a small flying insect fluttered by my prayer book and I instinctually reached out to crush it. Apparently my heart does not rejoice in God’s love for gnat-like creatures! Fortunately, I was able to check my violent response and allowed the insect to meander off to engage in its own form of prayer.

Interestingly, in our reading from the Rule of St. Benedict that same morning, in speaking of monastic life, St. Benedict said, “The good of all concerned … may prompt us to a little strictness in order to amend faults and to safeguard love” (Prologue, verse 47).

In a way, our entire life as Christians could be described as a call to safeguard love. Although self-discipline can be tedious, we need to keep a close eye on our impulses so we can learn to catch ourselves before we strike out with hurtful words or dismissive actions. Safeguarding love requires respect for all life God has created because in God’s great design, our interconnectedness with all things is what allows everything that has being to thrive. Disregarding or destroying that interconnectedness is to sabotage rather than safeguard the source of energy — God’s generative love — that sustains us.

Would the death of one insect in our choir chapel have greatly altered life on this planet? No — except for its contribution to my failure to safeguard love, which, if left unchecked, would have far greater consequences.

Prayerful Perspectives

Last Wednesday afternoon, after watching coverage of the invasion of the U.S. Capitol building for 2½ hours, I pulled myself away from the television to go to evening prayer. As I entered the chapel, a feeling of gratitude washed over me that we would be turning to God in prayer at this time of crisis. St. Benedict showed wisdom in prescribing times to gather for prayer, so that it becomes instinctual, and also for stipulating that “On hearing the signal for an hour of the divine office, the monk will immediately set aside what he has in hand and go with utmost speed…. Indeed, nothing is to be preferred to the Work of God” (Rule of Benedict, chapter 42, verse 1 and 3).

I mentioned to my friend Ruth that this experience had made me grateful for my routines, and she said, “Yes—as long as they are done with intention.” One of the purposes of praying the Liturgy of the Hours is to keep reminding ourselves that God is present and that we are to rely on God, not on ourselves. The books of the prophets and the psalms are full of reminders that God is our protector and refuge; for example, the prophet Isaiah says, “God indeed is my savior;  I am confident and unafraid. My strength and my courage is the Lord (Is 12: 2-3).

Prayer gives us perspective when we are in difficult times: God’s ways are not our ways. God brings justice to those who are oppressed. God has plans for us that give us hope and a future. God’s faithful love endures forever. Prayer also unites us with all others in the Body of Christ and strengthens our resolve to love our neighbor and place ourselves in God’s loving care.

St. Paul said to the Philippians, “The Lord is near. Have no anxiety at all, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, make your requests known to God. Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus” (Phil 4: 5-7).

So, then: Let us pray, with trust, intention, and thanksgiving. As Ralph Abernathy said, “I don’t know what the future may hold, but I know who holds the future.”

Healing the World Through Humility

The ancient Greeks had a word for pride and ambition run amok: ”hybris,” which we have translated in English as “hubris.” As it says on the Merriam-Webster Web site, “To the Greeks, hubris referred to extreme pride, especially pride and ambition so great that they offend the gods and lead to one's downfall. Hubris was a character flaw often seen in the heroes of classical Greek tragedy, including Oedipus and Achilles. The familiar old saying ‘Pride goeth before a fall’ is basically talking about hubris.”

Tragically, humans don’t seem to be able to learn how to avoid hubris from the innumerable examples offered by history and literature. Indeed, stories of the rise and fall of people and cultures afflicted with this grave character flaw have been playing on a continual loop since the beginning of recorded history and continue today, as recent events in the United States have demonstrated.

Saint Benedict was aware of the insidious ease with which hubris sprouts in each of us and thus devoted the longest chapter in his Rule to the development of humility, in what was perhaps the world’s first 12-step program. It’s easy to decry hubris when it plays out on the world stage, but if we are to countermand it, we must root it out in ourselves.

As Sr. Ilia Delio notes, “If we preach the Gospel ideals of Jesus, then we must first be willing to put them into practice. After all, if we want the world to overcome it’s addiction to power, money and progress, then we must be willing to disengage ourselves from these things; for where else shall the world find its image?”

Humble people — those who have learned to turn their attention away from themselves and rely solely on God — are the ones who have been able to break the interminable cycle of hubris and effect true peace and fullness of life among us. Mary of Nazareth, Jesus, St. Benedict, Mohandas Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr., Mother Teresa, Nelson Mandela, and many others like them all started in the same place we must: by recognizing and acknowledging our pride and cultivating humility. When we accept this challenge, ever so slowly but inexorably, peace and compassion rather than the tragedy of ambition and greed will spread throughout our world. 

Journeying With Low Beams

In speaking about his profession of writing, E.L. Doctorow said: “It’s like driving a car at night. You can only see as far as your headlights illuminate, but you can make the whole trip that way, you see.”

This bit of wisdom applies to our journey with Christ as well. Jesus once told his disciples, “I have much more to tell you, but you cannot bear it now. But the Spirit of truth, who is to come, will guide you to all truth” (Jn 16: 12-13).

It often seems that the Spirit’s default mode is low beam light, which reveals only a few steps of the path ahead of us. High beam light seems to be reserved for a few prophets and teachers. Why is this so? Here are some possibilities:

• We might become discouraged and stop in our tracks if we could see the challenges we will face down the road.

• If we always knew what is coming, we might well lose the capacity for curiosity, exploration, and delight.

• The inability to see very far forces us to make our journey more slowly, which encourages attention, mindfulness, and contemplation.

Eden Phillpotts said, “The world is full of magical things, patiently waiting for our wits to grow sharper.” St. Paul said as much to the Corinthians: “Eye has not seen, and ear has not heard … what God has prepared for those who love him.”

Love illumines the road ahead of us — not too far, but you can make the whole trip that way, you see.

Prayerful Resolutions

The beginning of a new year feels like a fresh start to life, in a way, and we often respond with resolutions to overcome bad habits or do good deeds. The Rule of St. Benedict has some advice for us in this regard: “First of all, every time you begin a good work, you must pray to Christ most earnestly to bring it to perfection” (Prologue, verse 4).

I confess that I don’t generally approach my new year’s resolutions from the stance of prayer. However, it would be helpful to do so, for as Michael Casey notes, “…every good inspiration has its origins in the actions of God deep within us.” When I understand that my impulses to reform an aspect of my life or do a good work come from the action of God within me, I’m more likely to take my resolutions seriously, because following through makes me a partner with God, in a sense.

Casey goes on to say, “We are being called to share in God’s work by our simple acts of kindness, by our fidelity, by our generosity with our gifts and our time…. To be tireless in doing good takes much courage, and this virtue comes only through sustained contact with Christ in prayer.”

When I read stories about the lives of saints, I’m often in awe at the multiplicity of the projects they took on—founding new communities, schools, orphanages, and hospitals, offering hospitality and guidance to pilgrims, and preaching and writing extensively, for example. You'd think they would need ten lifetimes to accomplish all their good works! The only way they could be so tireless was through sustained contact with Christ in prayer, because contact with Christ is a conduit to the energy of God the Creator and Spirit as well. That energy is inexhaustible and is available to us as well to fuel our own efforts to grow in love and sustain the Body of Christ.

Here is a simple prayer, modified from Prayers for the Domestic Church by Fr. Edward Hays, to maintain sustained contact with Christ, our light and source of energy:

X Christ my light, help me to use the work of this day — to perform it with mindfulness and attention, with care and devotion — that it may be holy and healing for me and for all the earth. 

X May my heart be ever changing, ever growing, as I seek to respond to the action of our loving God deep within me.

X Journey with me this day and give me the energy to be faithful to acts of love and compassion that unite me with you, Creator, Redeemer, and Spirit of the Holy.

AMEN X