Are You Clinging to Your Teddy Bear?

Have you ever seen the above image or one like it?

It is quite a good illustration for how God works in our lives.  Although sometimes it seems like He is not quite so gentlemanly about asking us to give Him whatever teddy bear of comfort we are clinging to in our lives.  Sometimes He simply takes things away from us, leaving us in confusion and doubt.  Then we feel lost and abandoned.

He could of course show us the bigger teddy bear first to win our confidence.  Yet He rarely does.  In fact, He rarely even gives us the greater gift immediately after taking something from us.  Perhaps He gives it sooner if we surrender readily to Him whatever pleasure or security He is asking us to give Him.  Perhaps it is only because He is forced to take away the teddy bear that has become a danger to our spiritual health that He waits for us to turn to Him before He gives us the bigger one lest it should become an idol as well.

So many times I find myself wondering why He seems to deprive those dear to me (and myself as well) of things that seem necessary.  Surely if He truly wanted us to live life more abundantly He would provide us with the support and healing we need in order to be able to do so?

It is easy to allow the enemy to work here—so easy to believe the devil's dastardly lies that seem so much more consonant with the reality we experience and to believe them in such subtle ways that we scarcely even realize it.  We end up relying on our own strength.  We believe that God does not wish to answer our prayers and therefore we must accept His will—a truth certainly, but one that so easily becomes rather a lie lived in bitterness because it taints our view of the Father's love and goodness rather than uniting us with the passion of Christ.

"God alone suffices," said Saint Teresa of Avila.

Is that not the only answer to the taking of our teddy bears?

We think we need them.  We think we need to hold something to give us comfort and security and we can't bear the thought of facing Him with empty hands.

Yet His hands were empty as they hung on the cross for us, as He poured out His love for us, a love that would soon be transformed into glory in His resurrection.  He had no teddy bears.  Everything had been taken away from Him by the Father's will to which He surrendered absolutely.

God alone sufficed for Him as Man because He wanted us to know that it is true for us as well.  He really will give us everything we need.

Of course it may mean we need to change our hearts.  We may need to change our prayers.  We may need to quit telling God what He needs to do and asking Him what we need to do and how we can fix things and simply enter into His presence open to receive His love.  Why not come before Him with empty hands and empty hearts and say to Him: "Lord, here I am; I come to do Your will.  Heal me in whatever way you wish."

Our Only Comforter

As we honor today Our Lady, Mother of the Church, it seems fitting to speak of her Spouse, the Holy Spirit, in this afterglow of the great solemnity of Pentecost.  Specifically I would like to focus on one particular word describing Him.  While praying the novena leading up to Pentecost, one of His titles burst through the veil formed by the mundane repetition of having heard it said many times through my life:

Comforter.

I was listening to this Veni Sancte Spiritus when the word penetrated into the depths of my heart through the lyrics:

You are our only Comforter.

So many times we desire comfort to counter the trials and tribulations of our lives.  We look for the simple things—the reliable things—the coffee and cookies.

Of course we also look deeper.  We try to find happiness in fulfilling work, in relationships with those dear to us, in following our vocations, and so on.  Yet sooner or later all of these things fail to satisfy us.  The world will fail you left and right, as say the lyrics of the song "I'm Not Alone" from the singer Plumb.

Where do we look?

Everywhere except to the Holy Spirit.  After all, it's incredibly difficult to look at an invisible reality who happens to be the Third Person of the Blessed Trinity.  If you can find a way to look at Him, let me know.

I can't.  Although gazing at the beautiful alabaster image of the Holy Spirit symbolized by a dove in St. Peter's does help.

Looking to Him means opening ourselves to something beyond our control—it means letting go of control—abandoning our expectations.  We may find ourselves tossed on the seas of doubt and fear or joy and longing.  We may feel nothing.  Yet if we do dare to sink deep within ourselves, to stop looking outside, and to find Him within, we may just find that He gives the comfort that the world can never give.  For He gives the comfort of belonging, of being welcome, of being loved: the fulfillment of our hearts' deepest desires.  He gives the comfort of heaven—the comfort of our true home.

Of course He may not give it right away.  He likely won't give all the comfort we desire or at least not all the time.  Yet He can't give any comfort to hearts that are closed to Him.

If we will be patient and trust Him, we will experience comfort according to His promise.

It was the pouring out of the Holy Spirit that brought the Church to birth.  It is His pouring out of Himself on us today that brings us to birth as the Church—as the Mystical Body of Christ.  And it is Our Lady who is the Mother of Christ and therefore also the Mother of the Church.

Veni Sancte Spiritus! Veni per Mariam!

XIV. Jesus is Laid in the Sepulchre

V. We adore Thee, O Christ, and we bless Thee.
R. Because by Thy holy Cross, Thou hast redeemed the world.

Somehow death always feels like the end.  Even though we say that we believe in the resurrection of the dead, it is hard not to face a parting as if it were forever.

Think of how the apostles must have felt to see the body of Jesus laid in the tomb.  The finality of it must have struck their hearts with numb terror.  Everything they had given up to follow Him must have seemed in vain.  They had followed Him, believing that He was the Messiah, the Christ, the One who would set them free.  Instead, He had died the most horrible death of a criminal and now His body lay in the coldness of a sepulcher intended for another.

Our Lady must have sustained them by her presence, by her faith in God, but still what consolation could she give them?  How do you ever speak words of comfort to one who has suffered loss?

When one is in the darkness of grief, no light seems possible.  In the face of death, how can one believe in resurrection?

Yet it is precisely through that death and darkness that God crashes with His tremendous power, destroying all our expectations of gloom and doom.  What of the sealed tombs in our own lives?  Do we close off our hearts at the loss and turn our back on all that was good when it turns out wrong?  Or do we linger, waiting for the moment when the angel will roll back the stone?

Oh, my buried Jesus, I kiss the stone that encloses Thee. But Thou didst rise again the third day. I beseech Thee, by Thy resurrection, make me rise glorious with Thee at the last day, to be always united with Thee in heaven, to praise Thee and love Thee forever. I love Thee, and I repent of ever having offended Thee. Never permit me to offend Thee again. Grant that I may love Thee always; and then do with me what Thou wilt. (From the Stations of the Cross according to Saint Alphonsus Liguori.)

~

As we descend with our Lord into the darkness with the beginning of the Triduum tomorrow, I pray that each of you will deeply encounter the Paschal Mystery.

Please share any more particular prayer intentions with me if you wish.

Blessings to you this Holy Week!

V. Jesus is Helped by Simon

V. We adore Thee, O Christ, and we bless Thee.

R. Because by Thy holy Cross, Thou hast redeemed the world.

And they forced one Simon a Cyrenian who passed by, coming out of the country...to take up his cross. (Mark 15:21)


Why was Simon of Cyrene chosen to be the one to help Christ when He grew so weak that the soldiers feared He would die before He reached the place of crucifixion?  The man was chosen apparently at random from the crowd.  He did not wish it.  Perhaps he even averted his gaze and tried to hide behind others to escape notice when the soldiers sought a man to help this seeming criminal.

Yet our Lord had chosen him from all eternity.  By His will, Simon came forth from the crowd, forced by the soldiers, to help Him with the weight of the cross and thereby with the weight of all our sins.

So too it is with our own cross.  Although we may hide or avert our eyes, we are forced to bear the weight of suffering whether we recognize in it our Lord's cross or mistake it for a punishment or something to avoid at all costs or to remove at the earliest opportunity.

Did Simon grudge those moments carrying the cross with Christ?  Perhaps He saw in Christ's gaze a look of such gratitude that he felt embarrassed for his reluctance.

If only we could see Christ look at us as we shoulder our burdens and bear our sufferings.  Then it would seem a light yoke indeed to lift our end of the cross and spare Him some pain by our loving gift.  If only we desired more the salvation of souls—if only we desired it more than our own comfort.  If only we loved Him more than we love ourselves.

My most sweet Jesus, I will not refuse the Cross, as the Cyrenian did; I accept it; I embrace it. I accept in particular the death Thou hast destined for me; with all the pains that may accompany it; I unite it to Thy death, I offer it to Thee. Thou hast died for love of me; I will die for love of Thee, and to please Thee. Help me by Thy grace. I love Thee, Jesus my love; I repent of having offended Thee. Never permit me to offend Thee again. Grant that I may love Thee always; and then do with me what Thou wilt. (From the Stations of the Cross according to Saint Alphonsus Liguori.)