Happy Mothers' Day!

Dedication: to all the mothers, physical and spiritual.

Mother Mary, pray for us!

The Dominican perspective has recently brought my attention to the connection of the word mother in Latin to the word matter and hence to the presentation of an intellectual argument for the consideration of mother earth which defends not only the sanctity of our physical nature, but also its revelation in a profound way of God's presence through His gift of motherhood.  While the gift of fatherhood involves a certain distance and separation from and hence image of the transcendence of God, the gift of motherhood that reveals God's presence in a particular way through the body because of giving life through her body presents to us the immanence of God.  He is not only transcendent, but immanent, closer to us than we are to ourselves as Saint Catherine of Siena would say.

 

Often the Gnostic error creeps in by one way or another that the natural and physical is bad while the supernatural and spiritual is good, but both are necessary for us to be a complete human person and both are good.  Saint Thomas Aquinas points us to how the order of nature and the order of grace work together in his much-quoted and often mistranslated phrase: "Grace perfects nature."  We do not need to disdain the natural world and all that is created, but to allow grace to perfect it.  We can never destroy our physical nature and become like the angels, for that would be to lose something precious to our very being--so precious that Christ Himself chose to make a marriage of mankind to God by taking on human flesh through a Mother.  Hence in a particular way the gift of motherhood, a natural gift, perfected by grace, becomes elevated to the most perfect icon of God's love for His creation, as evidenced by the glory of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Full of Grace.

 

Prayer, then, for a mother flows naturally from her physical being--her being for the other that takes so much of her attention and her faculties to be focused upon nourishing her little ones and guiding them in growing into the depths of the spiritual life through their contact with her love poured out for them in all the many little sacrifices that remain hidden in the soil of her being.  While men need to go up to the mountaintop to encounter God, mothers find that the Lord comes to them right where they are, touching them gently with the outpouring of His grace and love, showing them moment by moment how to be united with Him in the total sacrifice of themselves just as Christ gave up His life on the Cross.

 

Blessed are you who lay down your lives for your children--and above all for Christ whom you nourish in your children.  Blessed are you who offer the immolation of your body as a holocaust of love to the Father.  Blessed are you who sorrow for those who have strayed or for fear that one day your children may stray from the Faith.  Blessed are you who long so much for the holiness of your children and direct all your efforts toward it.  Your reward will be great in Heaven.

 

May Christ today through His Blessed Mother pour out upon you an abundance of grace and joy to sustain you in your vocation of motherhood!

Behold the Handmaid of the Lord

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding."

I like to imagine it might have been early in the morning and dark when our Lady crept outside, following a silent prompting in her heart to come out and pray as she stared up at the beauty of the stars fading with the first light of dawn.  Then, in that darkness just before the dawn, the light of the angel Gabriel burst upon her like the rising of the sun.

"Hail, full of grace, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women."

Called by name, she could not doubt that it was to her the angel spoke.  The message was for her and none other.

Who would not tremble at such a grace-filled message?  The words must have spoken to the depths of her heart and to her vocation, touching her soul in a way that only the truth of the Lord spoken to our hearts can do.

"Fear not, Mary, for thou hast found grace with God."

First, the injunction not to fear, a call to trust, to commit all doubts and uncertainty into God's providential love.

Then words of such power:

"Behold thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and shalt bring forth a Son; and thou shalt call His name Jesus.  He shall be great, and shall be called the Son of the most High; and the Lord God shall give unto Him the throne of David His father; and He shall reign in the house of Jacob for ever.  And of His kingdom there shall be no end."

For where God works there is ever clarity and strength, slicing through our own expectations with the sword of truth.  And He ever calls us to transform our perspective.

"How shall this be done, because I know not man?"

Tradition holds that Mary had taken a vow of perpetual virginity and that Joseph had done so as well.  Her question makes most sense in light of this view, which certainly precludes any possibility or expectation for a child in the picture.  I wonder whether she questioned in that moment her certainty regarding her vow of virginity.  Did she ask in her heart if God wished her to tread a different path?

"The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the most High shall overshadow thee. And therefore also the Holy which shall be born of thee shall be called the Son of God.  And behold thy cousin Elizabeth, she also hath conceived a son in her old age; and this is the sixth month with her that is called barren: Because no word shall be impossible with God."

Although Mary must have known then that God confirmed her in her vow of virginity, nevertheless the message must have transformed how she saw the entire rest of her life.  She could have questioned further, she could have resisted, she could have clung to what she wanted.

Yet she said only: "Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it done to me according to thy word." 

She could scarcely have uttered a more beautiful surrender of her expectations for her life.  All that she must have seen as necessary she laid down, accepting instead the power of God at work.

My prayer today is that we will have the courage to do the same, to surrender anything that we think is necessary for ourselves or others, to lay our expectations at the foot of the angel Gabriel, and speak with Mary: Behold the Lord's servant always, ready to fulfill all that He desires.

I wonder too about those moments after Gabriel departed.  Did the world seem dark and dreary?  Did her heart ache within her even with the joy of receiving God's message?  Perhaps the devil too crept in to tempt her not to trust in the Lord's plan and in His messenger, for if he could undermine her trust, he would have a foothold to drag her away from her obedience.

Yet Mary arose with haste, never heeding such tactics, and went to bring Christ to her cousin, to share with her the glory of God's word.

For her it was necessary only to attend to the duty of the moment and not to worry about the future.  She went to be present where she could draw closer in her service to the Lord and did not fret about what must come or what to do about it or how.

Here I am, Lord; I come to do Your will.

Another One Bites the Dust

Perhaps mainly because I have rather a morbid sense of humor, I found it amusing when I heard that performing CPR on someone ideally should be done at about 100 beats per minute and that in order to count those beats it helps to use a song that keeps that tempo, such as "Another One Bites the Dust."

Who would ever think of using such a song to save a dying person?

I mean do you want those in danger of death to think they might be about to bite the dust?

And yet it can achieve precisely the opposite result: instead of biting the dust and dying, the person can live to face another day.

In the spiritual life, it is much the same.

Die to self.

We are told again and again that we are to die to ourselves.  Yet we hear it as if we were that person lying on the ground receiving CPR and hearing a song about biting the dust.  It makes us think that we are going to die.

Is that true?  Or is that a lie sown by the enemy?

Deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow Me.

Those are the words of Christ.  And why would our loving Savior demand anything of us unless it was for our good?

I recently had another project of mine bite the dust.  It followed on a succession of other various happenings that I could describe as things biting the dust—my hopes and expectations mainly.  When this most recent project bit the dust, its death at first seemed to mean the death of much more.

However, I was not left in that place of despair.  Instead, I began to be led along a path that meant a new way of thinking that follows in the same vein as Christ's call to deny ourselves, take up our crosses, and follow Him.

This perspective also places the words of the aforementioned song in an entirely new light.

Another one bites the dust
Another one bites the dust.
Another one bites the dust.

Each time these words ring in the happenings around us, we too can receive spiritual CPR.  Each time something we hold too dear bites the dust, the Holy Spirit can compress grace into our spiritual lungs, restoring us to new life.

"And where sin abounded..."

"...grace did more abound." (Romans 5:20)

My heart grieves the scandals that have recently come to light within the Church, but also for some of the responses that reveal a similar issue.  If the bishops have been remiss in not bringing sin to light and have tried to cover it up for the sake of what the world may think, the faithful may also care too much for the world's opinion and therefore attack vociferously those who stand in the place of Christ who have failed us.

We too fail.  We too are sinners.

It is easy to stand outside and say what must be done.  It is easy to believe that we would act rightly in their situation.  But would we?

There but for the grace of God go I.

How do we know until we have faced the pressures that have worn them down and twisted them into believing they did what they must?  For rarely do people act wrongly for reasons that they do not themselves perceive as good in some way, even if only by the twisting lies of the enemy.

He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone. (John 8:7)

By all means, let us call for an end of silence, but let it be without condemnation.  Our bishops are already under so much attack for their positions from within and without.  If the devil tries to come after us and turn us away from serving our Lord, how much more do you think he goes after those who shepherd so many souls?

Let us not forget in our outrage against the unthinkable evils committed that these were done by part of the Body of Christ.  I think of the words of Father John Corapi that touched my heart so deeply before he too wandered off the path: "Never abandon a fallen comrade." These men are our fallen comrades. They are our brothers. Let us never abandon them. Let us rather pray and sacrifice for them until they repent of their sins and turn back to God.

And when we call upon the Church's hierarchy to take a strong position against those who have committed these grave sins, let us not stand outside as an angry mob or treat them as merely worldly leaders who must fulfil administrative responsibilities.  Let us remember that this is a spiritual battle.  Let us assure them that we will stand with them in the brink.

For our wrestling is not against flesh and blood; but against principalities and powers, against the rulers of the world of this darkness, against the spirits of wickedness in the high places. (Ephesians 6:12)

We must therefore fight with more than earthly means.  We must take to our side all the spiritual resources at our disposal and beg our Lord for the grace He wishes to bestow upon us.  Then we shall be more than conquerors, for:

...in all these things we overcome, because of Him that hath loved us.  For I am sure that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor might, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8:37-39)

XIII. Jesus is Taken Down from the Cross

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


What a terrifying experience it must have been to have stood beneath the cross on Calvary as the Savior of the world died, the earth quaked, and the veil of the temple was torn in two.  Then to receive His body....

Our Lady must have thought of the first time she held her Son in her arms when she held His broken body.  Then she must have marveled at how God could rest in the fragile flesh of an infant.  Now she grieved at the tortured body of that Son who had borne incomprehensible sufferings by taking on the sins of the whole world.

Her own heart had been pierced by the sword of sorrow foretold by Simeon in the temple.  Thus her suffering too became a well of love united with that of her Son, earning her the title Co-Redemptrix.

Although her heart must have broken as she pressed the body of her Son to her heart, still in the depths of her heart she uttered still that simple word of love: "Fiat."  Whatever she willed, she knew that God's will must be done.  She knew that no matter how cruel it seemed, no matter how dark the path that she must tread forward, that the Father's Providence would bring good out of evil.

Now by her prayers she seeks to obtain for us that same grace.

O Mother of sorrow, for the love of this Son, accept me for thy servant, and pray to Him for me. And Thou, my Redeemer, since Thou hast died for me, permit me to love Thee; for I wish but Thee, and nothing more. I love Thee, my Jesus, 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.)

IX. Jesus Falls the Third Time

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

"Third time's the charm," as people say.  There is something significant in the number three: a powerful expression of finality.

When Christ fell the third time, how weak He must have been, how near unto the place of crucifixion and yet how far.  In His weakness He must have lain for a moment, trying to draw strength to rise, His will bent still toward our salvation, loving us with every moment of the immense torment He suffered as He lay against the rock-strewn ground.

Think of what the devil whispered into His ears.  For He was not left alone in that moment of weakness, but laid bare to all the snares of enemy.

What about your own falls?  It is when we are weakest that the devil likes to strike, for he cannot get us when we are wrapped about with the power and love of Christ.  It is only when we lie prone in our weakness and do not wish to go on that he can tempt us not to go on.  Then he can make us feel that all is hopeless, that we are powerless, and that we shall never rise from this darkness.

How much more must Christ have been tempted as He lay there.  Was it because He was God that He did not give in?

Rather it was love.  For only love can carry one through temptation.  Only love can make us so little heed our own darkness that we will to suffer it so long as God wills it.  Only love can raise us up when we have fallen.  Only love can give us hope in a brighter dawn.

And our Lord did not remain on the ground.  He struggled to His feet again, the cross still upon His shoulders.

Perhaps His entire human nature cried out that it was futile and that He would never have the strength to reach the place of crucifixion.  The enemy may have whispered of our infidelity, our lack of care for Him, our turning away and complete disdain for all that He was doing for us.  Yet He loved us still.  He went on because He wanted to show us that love in the most powerful way He could: by dying for us.  That death He had already begun, dying for us in each moment, and dying to the temptations that assailed even Him.

May He grant us the grace to rise from our hardest falls and to go on for love of Him.

Ah, my outraged Jesus, by the merits of the weakness Thou didst suffer in going to Calvary, give me strength sufficient to conquer all human respect, and all my wicked passions, which have led me to despise Thy friendship. I love Thee, Jesus my love, with my whole heart; 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.)

The Misfortune of Being Good

"Yes.  I had the misfortune to be born good.  And it is a misfortune, I can tell you, General.  I really am truthful and unselfish and all the rest of it; and it's nothing but cowardice; want of character; want of being really, strongly, positively oneself."

-the Strange Lady, "Man of Destiny" by George Bernard Shaw

When I first read this quotation it struck me by its paradoxical nature.  (Of course it also struck me rather personally, but that's another can of worms.)

As I continue to reflect upon these words, I marvel at how beautifully Shaw broke apart the culture of niceness in these few phrases.  For in our modern society we tend to think of qualities such as niceness and tolerance as being admirable.  Often we look at those quiet and pious by temperament as being advanced in holiness.

Yet I daresay Saint Paul would object strongly to such folly.  After all, he had to struggle mightily to live a virtuous life and even be knocked off his horse (literally enough) because he was going the wrong direction.  He was not afraid to stand up to Saint Peter and tell him he was wrong, nor did he have any trouble calling out those not following the right path.  And if you read his writings, there's the boasting....  In short, he was quite positively and unashamedly himself.  So I don't think he fits that mode of niceness in the least.

Now you might wonder how there could possibly be misfortune in being by nature good, or being a nice person, especially if you happen to be someone who struggles with temptations on a grander scale.  I will tell you.

First let me offer you an analogy: imagine that you are a long-distance runner and that running comes easily to you so that you win each race and never have to do much training while those around you must spend hours every day trying to get their bodies into shape and still never quite measure up.  Now imagine you injure yourself so that you are no longer able to run with such ease.  That handicap weighs down on your spirits and you lose race after race.  Soon you fall into depression because you cannot face the seemingly-insurmountable difficulties.  You give up on running and try to pursue another course, but to no avail.  Everywhere you meet failure.  On the other hand, one of your fellow runners who had to struggle so hard and had to deal with natural handicaps to his speed now outstrips everyone else because he has put so much into his training.  If you put as much into as he did you might take the lead again, but why would you when it came easily before?

Now obviously the competitive nature of this analogy does not carry across into the evaluation of the nice person.  However, the main thrust remains the same: if you do not have to strive hard after virtue and you suddenly come face to face with a difficult situation or great temptation, what will keep you from giving in?

Thus being by nature inclined toward what is good can prevent one from developing true goodness, the goodness that comes of virtue hard won by the grace of God.  Natural goodness may be no more than weakness, a fear of offending others, a fear of being seen as less than perfect.  This pseudo-virtue that stems from pride is the mask of a coward not a saint.  Niceness may yet bear fruit, but only through the same fire of purification that burns away the dross from the silver of those who seek God in all the messiness of their disagreeableness.

May you run, as Saint Paul says, to win a crown that will not fade!