Mercy

I remember when I participated in a Cursillo retreat, I.H.M. Sister Margaret McAnoy said, “When you die, God is going to ask you about your life. God is going to ask, ‘Did you enjoy it?’” I was surprised and delighted by this question. It’s amazing how a few words can change a perspective and these words changed my perspective about who God is. God went from being a critical, demanding judge to being a generous, enthusiastic cheerleader—in less than 25 words. What this said to me was that no matter how far I wander from God or no matter how broken I am, God waits, patiently and mercifully, God waits.

Perhaps this is why we feel a sense of discontent when we do wrong—it is not that God is provoking us in order to judge us—it is that God is nudging us in order to embrace us in mercy. God longs for us. God waits to discover over and over that our true joy is only to be found in God.

This is the joy we celebrate in the Sacrament of Reconciliation. It is the joy of returning to God who has been waiting for us with open arms. This Tuesday, as part of our Lenten activities, our parish will celebrate the Sacrament of Reconciliation at 7:30. Lent has historically had a twofold focus, the movement of the catechumens toward baptism and the movement of penitents toward reconciliation. Both of these movements are related, because reconciliation is seen as renewing our baptism, cleansing our sin and renewing our life in God.

On Tuesday, we will be joined by our candidates: those who were baptized in another faith tradition or those who were baptized as Catholics but never received any further faith formation. These candidates will experience the Sacrament of Reconciliation for the first time. Let us pray that we, along with the candidates, will again experience the joy of life in God. God is waiting with open arms.

What Color is this ... ?

It is known as the dress that broke the internet.  A few weeks ago, a London dress appeared on the internet site Tumblr along with a simple question: What color is this dress?  Millions of people weighed in, some claiming it was white and gold, others claiming it was blue and black.  (It was blue and black). To say that the question polarized the internet audience would be an understatement.   The debate over the color of the dress nearly started a world war on cyberspace.  Amidst the consternation, one thing became clear:  we all see things differently.

This is not only true in the case of a dress on the internet.  It is also true in the liturgy.  We perceive the same words, the same rituals, the same symbols and the same music in different ways.  Some might perceive Gregorian chant as monotonous and tiresome while others perceive it as a vehicle to transcendence.  Some perceive the cross as a symbol of suffering and pain while others see it as a sign of resurrection and hope.   These differences in perception go beyond the elements of the liturgy.   We all have a different perception of God and we have different perceptions of each other.  So how does the unity to which we are called by the liturgy happen with so many different perceptions?

Scientists, lending their expertise to the dress debate, say our perceptions depend on light—how much light exists around the object at which we are looking and how our eyes interpret that  light.  It is no different in liturgy.  We are called to see the words, the rituals, the symbols, the music—even God and each other--through the light of faith.  Only when we look at life with a vision illumined by faith can we see as God sees—with eyes of hope and joy.

This weekend, our Elect will experience the second Scrutiny.  They will be asked to look deeply at those areas in their lives where they most need the light of God.  Our Elect are also called  illuminandi, or “those who will be enlightened” by Baptism.  May we, who have been enlightened in Baptism, look at everything through the light of faith.  Only then can we see the true colors of life as God sees them.

Breathe!

One of my Lenten disciplines this year is to spend more time in prayerful meditation.  That means paying attention to each and every breath.   Because breathing is instinctive, we rarely notice it until stress, fear or a respiratory ailment takes our breath away.

The ancient Greek word for breath is pneuma, which in Scripture is also translated as “spirit” or “soul.”  The Hebrew word for breath is ruah, which also means “spirit.”  According to Scripture, humanity began when God breathed life into Adam.   Humanity was renewed when Jesus breathed the Holy Spirit onto the disciples.  So important is the breath of God that according to the psalmist, without God’s breath, we die.

This weekend, when we celebrate the Scrutiny Rites with our Elect, we will pray that God’s breath will animate them with healing and strength.   These rites include prayers of exorcism, prayers that are intended to free the Elect from anything which might prevent them from fully experiencing the love of God as they continue their journey to the Sacraments of Initiation.  In the ancient world, it was believed that catechumens were particularly susceptible to powers of evil, so from the beginning, the Church has offered these prayers of protection for the unbaptized.  But prayers of exorcism are not only for the unbaptized.  The Church’s Rite of Exorcisms includes prayers for the baptized who need to be freed from the powers of evil.

Recently, the U.S. Bishops approved the first ever English translation for the revised ritual of Exorcisms and Related Supplications.  Unlike the images from the horror movie, The Exorcist, there is nothing magical or superstitious in the Church’s Rite of Exorcism.  In addition to Psalms and Gospel readings, there are prayers and the use of symbols.  Water, the imposition of hands, breathing on the person’s face and the Cross all recall the saving power of baptism.  These prayers attest to the power of evil.  But they also affirm that God’s Spirit, God’s very breath, is strong enough to overcome any and all evil.  

Lent and Liminality

Each year on the first Sunday of Lent, we hear the story of Jesus going into the desert for 40 days.  The experience of being in the desert is a paradigm for the season of Lent, for we too are called to a desert-like experience.  Being in the desert is hard.  It can be lonely, empty, dry, devoid of structure and certainty.  On the other hand, it can also be filled with newness-new perspectives, new ideas, and new ways of being.

Anthropologists call these times of withdrawal and waiting liminal experiences.  The word Liminal comes from the Latin līmen, meaning a threshold.  To be in a liminal space is to withdraw from one stage of life and to wait at the threshold of the next.  It is like the adolescent going through puberty, the cancer patient undergoing chemotherapy, the former C.E.O. standing on the unemployment line, the refugee longing for a place to call home, the pilgrim on a journey.

Being in any liminal space is scary.  It means leaving behind everything we know to be safe and secure and facing a future that is unknown.  It means standing still for a while in the midst of chaos, disarray, and nothingness.  It’s no wonder we avoid such experiences.  We are, after all, creatures of habit and comfort.  We order our daily agendas in ways that protect us from the unknown.  We program our GPS in order to avoid the risks of wandering off the beaten path.  We surround ourselves with people who make us feel safe.  We create for ourselves the illusion of being in control, of ordering our lives to be predictable.  But nothing amazing or wonderful generally emerges from business as usual. 

Liminality is the place of surprise and encounter, the place of transformation, the place of dying and rising, the place where the caterpillar spins its silk and is transformed into a butterfly.  God calls us to such a place this Lent—where predictability makes way for possibility, where safety gives way to risk, where fear resolves to trust.

Jesus invites us to follow him, but he never says exactly where he is going, only to “Come and see.”  This is God’s call to us this season, to come to the desert and see where God wants us to go.

Lent: Back to Basics

Golfer Tiger Woods has seen better days.   Once the dominant force on the golf course, now he can’t seem to complete a tournament.  Two weeks ago, he pulled out of the Farmers Insurance Classic after only 12 holes.  The week before, he shot an 82 at the Phoenix Open--his worst professional performance.   Whether Tiger’s current downfall is being caused by a mental block, an aging body, or both is not entirely clear.  What is apparent is that in order to get back on track, Tiger has to get back to basics.  For him, that means paying attention to basic elements like grip, stance, posture and swing, and perhaps relearning these basics in new ways.  

Like Tiger Woods, we have all experienced those times in life when we have had to start over.  Those who have suffered job losses in recent times have understood the need to go back to the nuts and bolts of writing cover letters, creating resumes, or learning new skills to attract potential employers.  Situations like this may mask themselves as times of disappointment, loss or failure.  But they can be opportunities for renewal and restoration.

Likewise, the season of Lent, with its penitential nature and call for sacrifice, may mask itself as a time of austerity, gravity or grimness.  In reality, it is chock full of opportunities for renewal and restoration.  In Lent, the Church calls us back to the basics of our faith through prayer, fasting and giving alms. These disciplines offer us an opportunity to grow in our relationship with God and others and they help deepen our commitment to a way of life rooted in our Baptism.  Prayer, fasting and giving alms are not meant to be done only during Lent and then abandoned.  These practices are part and parcel of the daily life of all Christians.  But to grow in Christian discipleship might require that we look at these disciplines in new ways.  For example, fasting from judging others instead of chocolate, or praying utilizing centering prayer instead of rote prayer could stimulate our faith and make for a joy-filled Lent.   Lent is an Anglo-Saxon word meaning spring.  As nature (at least in the Northern Hemisphere) is awaiting rebirth, may we too experience a rebirth in faith and in hope.