The Chosen

Richard Rohr, OFM, said something recently that particularly caught my attention: “Chosen people are chosen to tell other people that they are chosen too.”

Although we say we believe God’s love is limitless and boundless, we still want to put fences around God’s love. These fences are often made up of words like “deserving,” “worthy,” and “fair,” as is illustrated in the parable of the Prodigal Son. Surely not all people are deserving or worthy of God’s love. Surely it’s not fair that God loves someone who is destructive. Surely if God has a special relationship with me and my people, God can’t also have a special relationship with you and your people.

It is worth noting that in Acts 17:28 it is said, “For in him WE live and move and have our being.” We, not I. All of us dwell within the God who made us, and God dwells in us, for we all exist in the Body of Christ. Thus, when Jesus said we should love the Lord our God with all our heart, soul, mind and strength and love our neighbor as ourself, this means that the God I love—the God in me—is the God I love in my neighbor. Every one is one; everyone is chosen.

If we truly believed that and were able to tear down the fences that we, not God, have constructed—well, as Sam Cooke sang, what a wonderful world it would be.

Oh, My God!

According to Anu Garg at A.Word.A.Day, the abbreviation “OMG” for “Oh, My God!” is not an invention of modern-day texters and Twitterers but has been around since 1917, when it was first recorded in a letter to Winston Churchill.

Although the abbreviation OMG might only have been around since 1917, the impulse to exclaim “Oh, my God!” surely has existed since humans developed the ability to see sunrises and hear birdsong and use language to give voice to their awe. Awe and gratitude in the face of the varied and multitudinous splendors of earth are woven into our DNA; if you doubt that, watch the face of a child who tastes ice cream for the first time.

In the busy worlds we have created for ourselves, we have truncated awe, packing it into a three-letter abbreviation and then moving on quickly to keep up with the demands we place on ourselves. Perhaps a healthy Lenten disciple would be to fast from abbreviated awe and feast on the occasions that lead us to say “Oh, my God!” After all, as the poet W.H. Davies observed in his poem Leisure, “A poor life this if, full of care, we have no time to stand and stare.”

Water, Water, Everywhere

This morning, I came across this thought from Prayers for a Planetary Pilgrim by Edward Hays: “A new day has dawned, and with it come fresh challenges to grow more mindful of you and of the web that unites me with all life.”

With the catastrophic flooding that has been occurring in the Midwestern United States the past couple of weeks, it occurs to me that perhaps water is the web that unites us with all life. After all, water makes up 83% of our blood, 70% of our brain, and 90% of our lungs; overall, our bodies are about 70% water. Thus, being composed mainly of water is a commonality that all humans share.

In the city where I live, Atchison, Ks., we were instructed to boil water before using it for four days last week, which brought us into solidarity with the 780 million people across the globe who lack access to clean water. Globally, 90% of all natural disasters worldwide are water-related, and thus the flooding we have experienced unites us with others across the world who have their lives threatened and disrupted by floods, landslides, tsunamis, storms, heat waves, cold spells, droughts, and waterborne disease outbreaks. The web of water reminds us that we are all one in our experiences, our needs, and our very being.

The order to boil our water for several days was a startling reminder not to take clean water for granted and to be thankful for this gift. It was a “doorway to awakening,” as Christine Valtners Paintner observes in her poem, “Cup”:

this doorway to awakening,

cup, bowl, basin, bath.

Our lives are filled with vessels

that save us each day.

A Lenten Reveille

The word Lent means springtime, and in the northern hemisphere, spring is a time when earth awakens from the dormancy of winter to enter into a season of growth. Therefore, it appears that Lent is a time when we need our own personal reveille!

According to Anu Garg at A.Word.A.Day, the word “reveille” comes from the French réveillez (wake up!), from réveiller (to awaken), from re- (again) + eveiller (to rouse), from Latin exvigilare (to keep watch), from ex- (out) + vigilare (to be awake or keep watch), from vigil (awake). It is ultimately from the Indo-European root weg- (to be strong or lively). Indeed, Lent is a time to wake up to God’s love for us, to rouse ourselves to perform acts of service, to keep watch in prayer, and to fast from foods that prevent us from being strong or lively.

This morning when I walked down the hall to the bathroom, someone’s door was open and I heard an alarm clock sounding with soft musical peals. We all respond to different wake-up calls—some of us need a blaring alarm to rouse us, whereas others respond to the gentle invitation of soothing music. The nature of our own personal reveille doesn't matter—what's important is that it keeps us from sleeping Lent away!

Crossing Borders

In her welcoming comments before mass at the Mount last Sunday, when we heard the story about Jesus’ transfiguration in the company of Moses and Elijah who came from other times and places, Sr. Esther Fangman observed that “heaven is the moment that crosses all borders.” Does that mean that the opposite is true: hell is the moment of separation that establishes borders? If we desire to be transfigured, does that mean that we need to transcend all borders?

In our human experience, we learn that we need to establish boundaries between ourselves and others. The process begins as we grow out of infancy, when we learn that we are separate from our mothers. Then we get busy creating a persona: I am this and not that. I am part of this group and not part of that group. If I believe this and not that, I will be accepted by others. Developing boundaries is an important part of maintaining our psychological health and physical safety, but in doing so, we often lose sight of the fact that we are connected with each other and with the earth as members of the body of Christ.

Jesus spent his life reaching across borders between men and women, between Jews and Samaritans, between the wealthy and the poor. Through his actions, he taught us that this is the way to make God’s kingdom come and do God’s will “on earth as it is in heaven.” We can experience heaven on earth when we cross social boundaries to recognize God in each other and care for the needs of each other. When we maintain rigid borders, on the other hand, we create hellish experiences for people seeking asylum in our country and those with a differing ethnicity, religion, or sexual orientation. The choice is ours: will we create heaven on earth by dismantling borders, or hell on earth by reinforcing them?

Our Mission Continues

I recently read an interview with addiction researcher Bruce K. Alexander, who notes that addiction usually occurs because people’s needs for belonging, identity, meaning, and purpose are not being met. He observed that during the fall of the Roman Empire in the fifth century, when St. Benedict lived, addiction to alcohol and to the violent “games” at the Roman Coliseum was almost universal. Alexander describes life in the capital city of Rome: “Intellectual life was degraded. Schools, law, and religion were corrupt and chaotic. Violence erupted. Political collapse was well underway. When bribes of bread and circuses—consumer goods and entertainment—failed to keep the people in line, law enforcement relied on brute force and the emperor’s despotism.”

Life at the time of the fall of the Roman Empire has many parallels to contemporary life. Many people today feel alone and neglected, don’t know who they are, have the sense that the world is random or ruled by evil forces, and lack purpose. Schools accept bribes from the wealthy, courts are packed with cronies of politicians, and many clergy abuse the innocent and the faithful to satisfy their appetites for sex and lavish lifestyles. Gun violence erupts regularly in our streets, workplaces, schools, and churches and the incidence of police shooting innocent black men is increasing, while people are distracted with consumer goods and video games and get addicted to alcohol and opioids.

Now, as then, St. Benedict offers us a way out of this dysfunction. Alexander notes that “…in cultures where everyone has a place and a purpose and a stable way of life, addiction is rarely found…. We need to get individuals out of the modern rat race and into less competitive communities where their work is valued and there is time for individual and group spirituality and celebration.” In writing his Rule, St. Benedict provided a blueprint for how to do just that.

Benedictine monastics and oblates continue to offer the world a model for how to live a balanced, fulfilling, contented life by centering their attention on Christ and providing a place of prayer and hospitality where others are welcomed, cared for, affirmed, and given purpose. As Fr. Duane Roy often says at the end of mass, “The mass is ended; our mission continues.” By our seemingly simple lives, we provide a remedy for the unrest in the world. May God bless the work of our hearts and our hands.

Obedience to Being, Not Doing

At our 2019 retreat on spirituality in the wilderness, Abbot Jerome Kodell offered an insight we can learn from Rebekah, wife of Isaac. God told Rebekah before her twins were born that the younger would serve the older, but Rebekah was impatient for that to happen, so she devised a plan whereby her son Jacob would dupe his father and cheat his brother to receive the blessing of the firstborn. This plan caused a rift in the family that separated brother from brother and child from parent; Rebekah never saw either of her sons again, and it took more than 20 years for the brothers to reconcile.

What can we learn from this story? Abbot Jerome quoted St. Vincent de Paul: “Those who are in a hurry delay the things of God.” We need to be patient and wait for God’s way to unfold, for that way contains wisdom beyond our own ability to see and our own desires.

It is hard for humans to wait. It feels like we are wasting time. The following meditation by Bob Holmes offers a helpful perspective:

In Christ,

Being always precedes becoming and doing.

Take time to be, to breathe and dwell.

Take time and own this moment.

Take time with eternity.

Most of us are very busy about becoming and doing. Even on retreat, I find myself working to accomplish things: Finish reading that book. Write that letter. Prepare that lesson for the prison. Instead, as Jesus showed, we need to show obedience to God first by being and by leaving the rest in God’s hands.