One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

A reflection on the daily Mass readings for Monday of the Fifteenth Week in Ordinary Time: July 11, 2016.

Isaiah 1:10-17
Psalm 50
The Holy Gospel According to Matthew 10:34-11:1


This morning as I was reading the Mass readings for today, I was reminded of something that happened this weekend on the retreat that I think fits in nicely.  One morning I was standing in the lobby watching the sun rise over the Mississippi River when I noticed a tree frog climbing up the inside of the glass next to me.  Every time I would move he would freeze and begin to lose traction, sliding back towards the floor.  As long as he did not look away from what he was doing to watch me he would climb towards his goal, wherever that was.  It was only when he looked at me instead that he would end up right where he started.  That to me speaks rather eloquently of what Isaiah was speaking to the Israelites about.

He was chastising them, not for sliding down the door, but for not climbing at all.  They had become so complacent in their sin that they were just continually offering sacrifice.  They were no longer truly offering their hearts to God with contrition.  Now they were just sitting at the bottom of the door, not even bothering to try to change.  Why bother climbing?  We are just going to slide back down.  They had lost sight of their goal and were simply looking around at all the distractions.  Isaiah was reminding them to get to climbing again, to start doing more than just hollow ritual.

God calls us in the same way to make love our focus and justice our aim.  In the Gospel we see an echo of that line from Isaiah when Jesus speaks of the reward a disciple will receive for giving a cup of water to the thirsty children.  Jesus knows this is controversial, a teaching that the world will not want to follow, but one that we must do.  After reading some news articles of the events that transpired in our country while I sat in peace and silence listening to God, I realize even more how important that is today.  In one of the readings just yesterday we were reminded that praying for someone without giving them what they needed was worthless.  That doesn't aim the arrow at the center of the target.. but somewhere off to the side.

This is how we climb our door, how we gain traction to get up the glass of life.  To reach out to those in need.  Those who are thirsty and hungry.  To feed them and give them drink.   That's both physically, for we have many hungry widows, orphans, less fortunate and refugees who need our help; and spiritually.  There are many young men and women out there who are hurting right now.  There is a void there that needs to be filled, something inside that causes them to lash out.  What are their needs? The only way to know is to listen.  Is to have an earnest conversation and say, "How can I help?"   Then to help.  Not just to get a good glimpse of the door that needs to be climbed.. but to start climbing it together.  We climb our door by helping them climb theirs.

His servant and yours,
Brian

"He must increase, I must decrease." 

What crown is this?

This morning I spent an hour in adoration praying for a friend.  During that time I prayed my daily rosary with that intention in my heart while also meditating on the Sorrowful Mysteries.  I was struck with a deep sense of love and mercy.  As I began to pray and meditate on the Third Sorrowful Mystery, the crowning of thorns, my heart really went out to my friend.  While it was one of those personal and unspoken prayer requests, the message was clearly for them.  I wanted to share it with all of you as well.

My Lord and Savior, how pitiful a sight it must have been.  Having been scourged and beaten, your body wracked with pain, how did you have the strength to continue on the journey?  As they placed the mocking robe around your shoulders, onto the flayed and fractured skin, oh the pain that must have coursed throughout your existence.  Here the man who is King of all, being made into what to mortal eyes must have seemed a contemptuous parody.  With all the angels at your command your love for us kept you from calling them to your defense.  Ah, how undeserving we are of that love.

As they placed the crown of thorn on your sacred dome, deriding the very nature of your holy and regal being.  The thorns piercing your tender flesh, bleeding profusely across your stately countenance.  You bore this mortification in our place.  Having emptied yourself, you came to this world with this purpose in mind.  You who wore the very fabric of space and time as your robe, took on this tattered and worn garment of purple.   Him who was crowned with so much power and glory that even looking upon his face would bring on the fear of death, was woven a crown of dried, discordant twigs.  From the comfort of your heavenly throne you took on instead the discomfort of the Cross. 

My child, he seemed to say to me, I did this for you.  What you are going through now is a crown of your own thorns.  A crown that seems full of shame and loss.  A decision that makes you tremble on the inside, throwing yourself on the ground in your own garden of Gethsemane and begging God to take this cup from you.  Oh, my child do not let Satan convince you of this.  Satan is your Rome, your opponent.  He wishes to make you seem far away, beaten and destroyed. For you are a child of God, by my work you have become my co-heir and your dignity is that of the royal family.  You have been grafted into the shoot that sprang forth form Jesse's stump.   Your adversary wants you to believe that your shame is your dignity.  That your fear is your robe.  No, embrace this cross no matter how difficult.  Lift up your chin and bear yourself with the regal countenance that comes from being my sibling.   March forth and embrace your cross, and walk towards your Easter.  Do not be resigned but rather like Jesus, rejoice in the Holy Spirit.  Love this burden.  Grasp it in your arms as you would a newborn child.  Carry it as you would your own.   For then your cross will become a cross, without a cross.

His servant and yours,
Brian