Jesus said something in yesterday’s Gospel (4thSunday in Lent) that I think we can apply to our current troubles:
While it is daytime, we must do the works of Him who sent Me. Night is coming, when no one can work (John 9:4).
A purely natural understanding would be that the passage is merely noting that worked stopped at sundown by necessity in those times, but of course the text is far deeper. Let’s ponder two related spiritual meanings and apply them to this time of crisis.
First, as St. Ambrose observes of this text, “Daytime is this present life; night is death and the time that follows death” [*]. He then warns us have a sober fear of death and to realize that now is the time to accept what God is offering because tomorrow is not promised.
In the midst of this pandemic, we are enduring something of a foretaste of “death.” For most of us the crisis will not result in our physical death, but many things we freely did just a couple of weeks ago are for the time being dead to us. We cannot do much of the work we normally do; we cannot follow through on most of the plans we made. A “night” of sorts has come upon us. However, many things arestill available to us, things we may have previously neglected: prayer, reading of Scripture, repenting of our sins, spending time with family, calling old friends. How will we use this time?
Second, this passage resonates with the great battle between light and darkness, the predominant theme of John’s Gospel.The battle cry is announced in the Prologue:
In Him was life, and that life was the light of men. The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it(John 1:4-5).
In John chapter 3, Jesus sets forth the drama of the battle for each individual:
And this is the verdict: The Light has come into the world, but men loved the darkness rather than the Light, because their deeds were evil. Everyone who does evil hates the Light, and does not come into the Light for fear that his deeds will be exposed. But whoever practices the truth comes into the Light, so that it may be seen clearly that what he has done has been accomplished in God(John 3:19-21).
In Sunday’s Gospel, Jesus heals the man born blind and brings him into the Kingdom of Light. This Gospel also demonstrates the spiritual darkness of those who stubbornly resist Jesus, the Light of the World. From Jesus comes this warning and judgment:
For judgment I have come into this world, so that the blind may see and those who see may become blind(John 6:39).
And then Jesus’ “hour” came: the hour to confront the kingdom of darkness through His Passion, Death, and Resurrection. Judas goes out to betray Jesus, and of this event John simple writes,
And it was night (John 13:30b).
Jesus’ words in Sunday’s Gospel remind us of the great battle that is all around us. It is a battle for souls, beginning with our own, but extending to family and friends. In our complacency, we often forget this great and dramatic battle. Many of our diversions and preoccupations are not available to us in this crisis; we are heading into a kind of spiritual desert. We have to take the time to ask ourselves important questions: Where am I going with my life? Do I know the Lord? Are my priorities pleasing to Him? Am I fulfilling my responsibility to teach the faith to my family and to announce the kingdom to others? For what sins do I need to repent? For what should I be grateful? When “normal life” resumes, what will I have learned? Will I apply it?
Yes, in a time like this we can see more clearly the dramatic battle that each of us is caught up in. Take some time to better engage the battle, for yourself and for others. If you find a good fight, get in it. The fight for souls is a good one! Pray, fast, talk, and witness. Seek the light of the many online offerings from the Church and from fellow believers that have proliferated in recent weeks.
Use this time wisely. The virus may go away, but the battle will continue until your final breath.
In today’s Gospel, Jesus, the Light of the World, brings light to a man born blind. If you are prepared to accept it, you are the man born blind, for all of us were born blind and in darkness. It was our baptism and the faith it gave that rendered us able to see and to come gradually more fully into the light. The man in today’s Gospel shows forth the stages of the Christian walk, out of darkness and into the beautiful light of Christ. Let’s take a moment to ponder the stages of the blind man’s walk, for each of us is the man.
I. The Problem that is Presented– We are introduced to a man who was blind from birth, incapable of seeing at all. As Jesus passed by he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Jesus answered, “Neither he nor his parents sinned; it is so that the works of God might be made visible through him. We have to do the works of the one who sent me while it is day. Night is coming when no one can work. While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.”
So there is the problem: he is blind; he has no vision. On account of Original Sin, we lost all spiritual vision. We could not see God or endure the light of His glory. This lack of vision causes many to have no “vision” for their life. They don’t know why they were made or what the true purpose of their existence is. Many cannot see past the sufferings of this world to the glory that awaits. Others have retreated into the material world and cannot see beyond it. Still others have retreated even further, away from reality into the realm of their own mind, their own opinions. St. Augustine describes this condition of the human person as curvatus in se (man turned in on himself). Yes, there is a blindness that imprisons many in the darkness. Even for us who believe there are still areas where it is hard for us to see. Coming to see God more fully, and to see ourselves as we really are, is a journey; one we are still on.
While the disciples want to dwell on secondary causes, Jesus sidesteps these and focuses on solutions. Assessing blame is unproductive; healing the man is uppermost. In a statement dripping with irony, Jesus says that the works of God will be made visible in a blind man. For the foolishness of God is wiser than man’s wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than man’s strength (1 Cor 1:25). Yes, God can make a way out of no way and write straight with crooked lines.
II. The Purification that is Prescribed – Having diagnosed the problem, Jesus begins the work of healing this man. When he had said this, he spat on the ground and made clay with the saliva, and smeared the clay on his eyes, and said to him, “Go wash in the Pool of Siloam”—which means Sent. So he went and washed, and came back able to see.
Hopefully, you can see baptism here. Jesus tells him, “Go wash … he went and washed, and came back able to see.” The Catechism of the Catholic Church says this of the Sacrament of Baptism:
This bath is called enlightenment, because those who receive this [catechetical] instruction are enlightened in their understanding … Having received in Baptism the Word, “the true light that enlightens every man,” the person baptized has been “enlightened,” he becomes a “son of light,” indeed, he becomes “light” himself (CCC 1216).
Baptism is required in order to truly see. It is no accident that John mentions the name of the pool to which the man goes: Siloam, a name meaning “sent.” Jesus sends him and He sends us. Baptism is required. Jesus says elsewhere, Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God (John 3:5).
Notice that the man comes back able to see. But just because you’re able to see doesn’t mean you actually do see. Right now I am able to see the Statue of Liberty; my eyes function properly, but I do not see it; I have to make a journey in order to do that. Similarly, the man here is able to see Jesus, but he does not yet see Him. He has a journey to make in order to do that. He has a long way to go to see Jesus fully, face to face. Baptism is not the end of our journey but the beginning of it. It renders us able to see, but we are still newborn babes. We need to grow. We can see, but there is plenty we haven’t yet seen.
III. The Perception that is Partial – The man can see but still does not know much of the one who has enabled him to see. His neighbors and those who had seen him earlier as a beggar said, “Isn’t this the one who used to sit and beg?” Some said, “It is,” but others said, “No, he just looks like him.” He said, “I am.” So they said to him, “How were your eyes opened?” He replied, “The man called Jesus made clay and anointed my eyes and told me, ‘Go to Siloam and wash.’ So I went there and washed and was able to see.” And they said to him, “Where is he?” He said, “I don’t know.”
So he’s able to see. But he hasn’t yet seen much. The man must grow in faith to come to know who Jesus really is. Look at how his partial perception is described. For now, he merely understands Jesus as “the man called Jesus.” To him, Jesus is just “some guy.” When asked where Jesus is, all he can say is that he doesn’t know. Although he is able to see, he does not yet actually see Jesus.
This describes a lot of Christians. They know about Jesus but they don’t know Him. Many Catholics in the pews are “sacramentalized but unevangelized.” That is, they have received the sacraments but have never really met Jesus Christ; they do not know Him in any more than an intellectual way. Many don’t even expect to know Him. He is little better to them than “the man called Jesus.” They’ve heard of Jesus and even know some basic facts about Him, but He is a distant figure in their lives. When asked questions about Him, they respond like this man: “I don’t know.”
IV. Progress through Persecution and Pondering – The text goes on to show us the progress that this formerly blind man makes in coming to know and finally see Jesus. It is interesting that this progress comes largely through persecution. Persecution need not always be understood as something as severe as being arrested and thrown in jail. It can come in many forms: puzzlement expressed by relatives and friends, ridicule of Catholicism in the media, or even those internal voices that make us question our faith. In whatever form, though, persecution has a way of making us face the questions and refine our understanding. Our vision gets clearer as we meet the challenges.
Notice the man’s progress thus far. He has been baptized and is now able to see, but he still knows little of Jesus, referring to Him only as “the man called Jesus,” He doesn’t know where Jesus is. He is about to grow, though, and does so in several stages.
In stage one of the man’s post-baptismal growth his neighbors turn on him and bring him to the Pharisees, who interrogate him because Jesus had healed him on the Sabbath.
They brought the one who was once blind to the Pharisees. Now Jesus had made clay and opened his eyes on a Sabbath. So then, the Pharisees also asked him how he was able to see. He said to them, “He put clay on my eyes, and I washed, and now I can see.” So some of the Pharisees said, “This man is not from God, because he does not keep the Sabbath.” But others said, “How can a sinful man do such signs?” And there was a division among them. So they said to the blind man again, “What do you have to say about him, since he opened your eyes?” He said, “He is a prophet.”
Notice what this persecution does for him. As he is challenged to say something about Jesus, he moves beyond calling him “the man called Jesus” and describes Him as a prophet. The man has gained some insight. A prophet speaks for God and Jesus is the Word made flesh.
In stage two of the man’s post-baptismal growth the Pharisees doubt his story and broaden their persecution, interrogating and threatening his fearful parents.
Now the Jews did not believe that he had been blind and gained his sight until they summoned the parents of the one who had gained his sight. They asked them, “Is this your son, who you say was born blind? How does he now see?” his parents answered and said, “We know that this is our son and that he was born blind. We do not know how he sees now, nor do we know who opened his eyes. Ask him, he is of age; he can speak for himself.” His parents said this because they were afraid of the Jews, for the Jews had already agreed that if anyone acknowledged him as the Christ, he would be expelled from the synagogue. For this reason, his parents said, “He is of age; question him.”
In stage three of his post-baptismal growth we note that the continuing persecution seems to make him grow even stronger and more able to withstand his opponents. Note his determination and fearlessness during the second interrogation he faces, which includes ridiculing him and placing him under oath:
So a second time they called the man who had been blind and said to him, “Give God the praise! We know that this man is a sinner.” He replied, “If he is a sinner, I do not know. One thing I do know is that I was blind and now I see.” So they said to him, “What did he do to you? How did he open your eyes?” He answered them, “I told you already and you did not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you want to become his disciples, too?” They ridiculed him and said, “You are that man’s disciple; we are disciples of Moses! We know that God spoke to Moses, but we do not know where this one is from.” The man answered and said to them, “This is what is so amazing, that you do not know where he is from, yet he opened my eyes. We know that God does not listen to sinners, but if one is devout and does his will, he listens to him. It is unheard of that anyone ever opened the eyes of a person born blind. If this man were not from God, he would not be able to do anything.” They answered and said to him, “You were born totally in sin, and are you trying to teach us?” Then they threw him out.
The result of this is to further deepen his vision of Jesus. At first, he saw Jesus only as “the man called Jesus.” Then he sees Him as a prophet. Now he goes further and sees Him as “from God.” He’s progressing from sight to insight. His ability to see, given to him in baptism, is now resulting in even clearer vision.
V. Perfection that is Portrayed – The man has been thrown out of the synagogue, as many early Christians were. He has endured the hatred of the world and the loss of many things. When Jesus heard that they had thrown him out, he found him and said, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” He answered and said, “Who is he, sir, that I may believe in him?” Jesus said to him, “You have seen him, the one speaking with you is he.” He said, “I do believe, Lord,” and he worshiped him.
Now the man’s vision is clear. After all this, he finally sees. Not only does he see Jesus, he sees who Jesus is. First he saw Him only as “the man called Jesus.” Then he sees Him as a prophet. Next, he says that He is from God. The final stage is the best of all. He actually sees Jesus and falls down to worship Him. Jesus is not only from God, he is God. Christ has fully enlightened him.
This is our journey, moving in stages to know Jesus more perfectly. One day we will see Him face to face; we will see Him for who He is.
Where are you on this journey? If we are faithful, our vision is getting better daily, but it is not yet complete. Scripture says,
For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall understand fully, even as I have been fully understood (1 Cor 13:12).
Beloved, we are God’s children now; it does not yet appear what we shall be, but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is (1 John 3:2).
My soul is thirsting for God, the God of my life; when can I enter and see the face of God? (Psalm 42:2)
For now, make this journey. Make it in stages. Come to know who Jesus is.
I have it on the best of authority that the man, on his journey to Jesus, sang this song:
Walk in the Light, beautiful light. Come where the dew-drops of mercy shine bright. Walk all around us by day and by night, O Jesus the Light of the World!
We might do well at a moment like this to ponder the First Station of the Cross, in which Jesus is tried before Pilate. At a critical moment Pilate said, “Do you not know that I have authority to release you and authority to crucify you?” Jesus answered, “You would have no authority over me if it were not given to you from above”(John 19:10-11). Jesus thus acknowledges Pilate’s authority as governor but reminds him of its true origin.
Most of us right now are experiencing increasing restrictions on our movement; policies have been put into place that have changed how we live, work, and even pray. Some people are understanding and supportive of the measures; others are concerned about the erosion of civil liberties. Still others believe that more should have been done. My view on this does not matter; I write as a priest, not an expert in public policy. One thing I would like to say is that you and I have the luxury of “armchair quarterbacking,” whereas those in civil authority must make extremely difficult and complex decisions. I, for one, am glad I don’t have to make them.
Citizens certainly have the right to question their leaders, but right now for my own peace of mind, I need to spend some time accepting the First Station of the Cross. The point of the First Station is not that Pilate is just or good but that his authority was granted to him by God. In Romans we read,
Everyone must submit himself to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which is from God. The authorities that exist have been appointed by God. Consequently, the one who resists authority is opposing what God has set in place … Therefore, it is necessary to submit to authority, not only to avoid punishment, but also as a matter of conscience. This is also why you pay taxes. For the authorities are God’s servants, who devote themselves to their work. Pay everyone what you owe him: taxes to whom taxes are due, revenue to whom revenue is due, respect to whom respect is due, honor to whom honor is due(Rom 13:1-7).
This sort of talk shocks most modern Americans. To be sure, St. Paul is giving a general norm, not an absolute one. There are times when a ruler commands obedience to what is evil; in such a case he must be resisted. As a general rule, though, we have a duty to obey just laws and policies. We might also remember that Nero was the emperor when St. Paul wrote this. Hence, St. Paul does not give this norm simply for good leaders or leaders whom we like. The Catechism of the Catholic Church says this about authority:
Every human community needs an authority to govern it. The foundation of such authority lies in human nature. It is necessary for the unity of the state. Its role is to ensure as far as possible the common good of the society. The authority required by the moral order derives from God: [see Romans 13:1-2 above]. The duty of obedience requires all to give due honor to authority and to treat those who are charged to exercise it with respect, and, insofar as it is deserved, with gratitude and good-will. …If rulers were to enact unjust laws or take measures contrary to the moral order, such arrangements would not be binding in conscience (CCC 1898–1900,1903).
In our current situations, citizens can and should stay in vigorous discussion with government leaders and officials, but as we do so we must remember the principles set forth above, which are so contrary to the modern, adversarial approach.
When bishops began suspending public Masses, many of us were alarmed. We wondered if less severe methods would have been more appropriate (e.g., limiting the number of people at each Mass). As the maximum number of people permitted in public gatherings has dropped (from 250 to 100 to 25 to 10) even that option became essentially unworkable. The bishops cannot simply defy public authority in this matter. For most of us, the decision has been made: public Masses are suspended for the near future.
As for me, I need to spend time at the First Station of the Cross. Note that I am not comparing our leaders to Pilate. Rather, I am focusing on St. Paul’s astonishing words, The authorities that exist have been appointed by God (Rom 13:1). In writing this, he echoes Jesus’ words to Pilate: You would have no authority over me if it were not given to you from above. At this astonishing moment of upheaval and fear, unprecedented in my lifetime, I can only pray for our leaders, both civil and ecclesial.
Lord, at this point it is out of my hands. Help me to be at peace with that. I know that ultimately everything is in Your hands; everything will ultimately be all right. But I also know that You have placed difficult matters into the hands of our leaders. I do not envy the difficult choices they must make. I only ask that You guide them, Lord. May they be neither too severe nor too lax, neither too fearful nor too bold. We seem to be heading into some difficult days. Help us. Save us. Have mercy on us, and keep us by Your grace. And because you said, “You have not because you ask not” (James 4:2), I’ll ask, “How about a miracle cure, Lord?” Meanwhile, grant me the trust in You that is the only source of my peace. Thank you, Jesus.
Here’s another William Byrd classic lamenting the suffering of the Catholic Church in England. Translated the text reads:
Be not angry, O Lord, enough, neither remember our iniquity for ever. Behold, see, we who beseech thee, we are all thy people. The holy cities are a wilderness. Sion is a wilderness, Jerusalem a desolation.
The reading for Tuesday’s Mass (Tuesday of the Third Week of Lent) was astonishingly applicable to our current situation. It also brings up a controversial question: are we experiencing punishment for our sins? The modern world has grown proud; we have largely forgotten our vulnerability. Worst of all, we have collectively cast God aside. In this sense we do not need to directly attribute this chastisement to God. Rather, the deep wound to our own sense of invincibility is itself the source of our pain and punishment.
We have been felled quickly, bewildered with an intense fear unthinkable just a month ago. Much of the fear is focused on our mortality. The lack of supernatural faith and the heavy focus on “this world,” a world that seeks only material blessings, fuels this fear. To those without faith, death appears to be the end of everything.
Let’s look at the reading from Tuesday’s Mass (Daniel 3:25, 34-45):
Azariah stood up in the fire and prayed aloud:
“For your name’s sake, O Lord, do not deliver us up forever,
or make void your covenant.
Do not take away your mercy from us,
for the sake of Abraham, your beloved,
Isaac your servant, and Israel your holy one,
To whom you promised to multiply their offspring
like the stars of heaven,
or the sand on the shore of the sea.
One of the difficulties of this crisis is the uncertainty; we don’t know how long it will last. We ask the Lord not to deliver us up “forever,” for with no end in sight it may seem like forever. We must pray for God’s mercy to come suddenly, unexpectedly—even if we do not deserve it.
For we are reduced, O Lord, beyond any other nation,
brought low everywhere in the world this day
because of our sins.
Some people believe it is wrong to speak of the role of sin in this crisis, but the sin referred to here is our collectivesin. A virus may come from a natural source, but it has been aggravated by both human action and inaction, some of it sinful. Our biggest sin, however, is our pride, which leads us to believe that a crisis such as the one we are experiencing is not possible, that we are invincible. How quickly this virus has laid us low! We think, because of our towering buildings, economic power, and advanced technology, that we are not vulnerable to the things our forebears faced. It would appear that we are not. I, too, have been rocked back on my heels by the terror that has come so swiftly upon us. I, too, have learned that I must check my pride and humbly accept this blow.
We have in our day no prince, prophet, or leader,
no burnt offering, sacrifice, oblation, or incense,
no place to offer first fruits, to find favor with you.
Azariah, who prayed this prayer, had experienced the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem and the end to the sacrifices so dear to the Jewish people.
I am deeply saddened at the end of public Masses across the country and the world—just when we need them most. Even the great celebrations of Holy Week and Easter seem to be in danger of cancellation. I am grateful that the private celebration of Mass by priests is at least still possible.
But with contrite heart and humble spirit
let us be received;
As though it were burnt offerings of rams and bullocks,
or thousands of fat lambs,
So let our sacrifice be in your presence today
as we follow you unreservedly;
for those who trust in you cannot be put to shame.
In the current situation, during which we cannot gather together, we must make repentance and humility the focus of our private prayer. We must also deepen our commitment to follow the Lord “unreservedly.” I have seen and heard the pain of so many of the faithful at the loss of Mass and regular reception of the Eucharist. This should increase our longing for and appreciation of the Lord’s Body and Blood and stir within us contrition for our indifference. May our loss become gain as we hunger more intensely for the Holy Eucharist.
And now we follow you with our whole heart,
we fear you and we pray to you.
Do not let us be put to shame,
but deal with us in your kindness and great mercy.
Deliver us by your wonders,
and bring glory to your name, O Lord”
Yes, Lord, we ask for a miraculous cure for both this disease and our fear. Deliver us by your wonders, O Lord.
The song performed in the video below, Tristitia et anxietas, was composed by William Byrd as a lament for English Catholics, who lost almost everything in the English “reformation.” One of its lines, translated, says this:
The first reading for Mass on Monday (Monday of the third week of Lent) was striking in its relation to the current time of turmoil. It reminds us of our vulnerability. Despite all our strength, we are individually and collectively in need of tremendous grace and mercy from God. For all our concern about the physical threat of this virus, we should be even more concerned about our spiritual vulnerability. In the reading, from 2 Kings 5, we are told of the great strength and wealth of Naaman, the Assyrian commander:
Naaman, the army commander of the king of Aram,
was highly esteemed and respected by his master,
for through him the LORD had brought victory to Aram.
Of his wealth it is said:
So Naaman set out, taking along ten silver talents,
six thousand gold pieces, and ten festal garments.
Despite this wealth we are told:
But valiant as he was, the man was a leper.
In Scripture, leprosy is not merely a physical disease; it is a symbol of sin, which disfigures as it eats away at us.
In this time of vulnerability to disease and fear, consider this brief reflection:
Yes, Lord, Naaman was a gifted man. He was a strong man and yet a leper, a sinner in need of Your mercy. Help me, O Lord, to see in him an image of myself: gifted by you, undeservedly so, and yet still a leper in great need of your mercy. Help me to see myself as I really am: a man loved by you, gifted by you, but ultimately a leper, a sinner in need of your mercy. Like Naaman, I need Your perfect mercy. Just as Naaman washed himself in the river seven times, I need Your seven sacraments, Your seven gifts of the Holy Spirit, Your seven cardinal virtues, and Your seven beatitudes. Above all, I need You.
May all of us who are making this journey through disease, vulnerability, and fear see beyond the merely physical dangers to the far worse spiritual dangers with which sin imperils us.
Given our current profound troubles, it occurs to me to republish an article from some years back. Like most, I have been through difficulties in my life: violent storms, an earthquake, and the loss of several loved ones. But I have never seen something quite like what we are experiencing now. It is unclear how long things will last, and the restrictions get more severe by the day. With all that in mind, I think it is important to recall the five hard truths that follow. I hope you won’t think I am trying to pour salt in our collective wounds. The message of this post is this: accepting that life has sufferings and setback is a freeing notion. Acceptance is a middle ground between resignation and approval. To accept something is be willing to pick it up and carry it for now, like a cross. Because we have not had to endure the large-scale suffering of previous eras, we have come to expect that things should be convenient and go smoothly. This actually increases our sorrow and anger when they don’t. Acceptance of the five hard truths described below can provide strange consolation. Following is the reprinted post:
The five truths that follow are indeed hard. They rock our world and stab at the heart of some of our most cherished modern notions. If they can be accepted for the truth they convey, however, they bring great peace. These truths are not only good medicine for our collective self-absorption but they also help us to have more realistic expectations as we live out our lives in this imperfect and limited world. Study these truths well. If they irritate you a bit, good; they’re supposed to. They are meant to provoke thought and reassessment.
I did not originate the following five principles, but the commentary is my own. So thank the one to whom the Holy Spirit first spoke them and tolerate my meager commentary.
1. Life is hard. We live in times of comfort and convenience. Medicine has removed a lot of pain and suffering from our lives. Consumer goods are readily available and we have a wide array of choices. Entertainment comes in many varieties and is often inexpensive. Hard labor is something that few of us are familiar with. Obesity is common due to overconsumption and underactivity.
All of these creature comforts have led us to expect that life should always be just peachy. We become outraged at the slightest suffering, inconvenience, or delay.
Our ancestors lived lives that were far more “brutish and short,” to borrow a phrase from Thomas Hobbes. Life was a “vale of tears.” They understood that suffering was a part of life. When we suffer today, we start thinking about lawsuits and who is to blame. Suffering seems obnoxious to us and hard work unreasonable! We are angered and flung into anxiety at the mere threat of suffering.
This principle reminds us that suffering and difficulty are part of life; they should be expected. Accepting suffering does not mean we have to like it. Acceptance of the fact that life will be hard at times means that we get less angry and anxious when it is; we do not lose serenity. In fact, it brings a strange sort of peace. We are freed from unrealistic expectations that merely breed resentment. We also become more grateful for the joys we do experience.
2. Your life is not about you. If you want to make God chuckle, tell Him your plans. If you really want to give him a belly laugh, tell Him His plans! We often like to think that we should just be able to do what ever pleases us and maximizes our “self-actualization.” However, we do not decide alone what course our life will take.
In this age of “nobody tells me what to do,” it is important to remember that our true happiness comes from getting not what we want, but what God wants. Our destiny is not to follow our star; it is to follow God. True peace comes from careful discernment of God’s will for us.
It is sad how few people today ever really speak ahead of time with God about important things like careers, entering into a marriage, or pondering a large project. We just go off and do what we please, expecting God to bail us out if it doesn’t go well. You and I do not exist merely for our own whims; we have a place in God’s plan. We have greater serenity when we discern that place and humbly seek God’s will. Accepting the fact that we are not the masters of our own destiny, not the captains of our own ship, gives us greater peace. It also usually saves us a lot of mileage.
Humbly accepting that our life is not simply about us and what we want is a freeing truth. We often don’t get what we want; if we can allow life to just unfold and not demand that everything be simply the way we want it, we can be more serene and free.
3. You are not in control. Control is something of an illusion. We may have plans for tomorrow but there are many things between now and tomorrow over which we have no control. For example, we cannot even control or guarantee the next beat of our heart. I may think I have tomorrow under control, but tomorrow is not promised; it may never come.
Because we think that we control a few things, we think that we can control many things. Not really. Our attempts to control and manipulate outcomes are comical, sometimes even harmful.
Thinking that we can control things leads us to think that we must control them. This in turn leads to great anxiety and often anger as well.
We usually think that if we are in control we will be less anxious. This couldn’t be further from the truth. In fact, the more we think we can control, the more we try to control, which increases our burdens and anxiety. We end up getting angry because we discover that there many things and people we cannot control after all. This causes frustration and fear.
We would be freer and less anxious if we would simply accept the fact that there are many things—most things, in fact—over which we have no control. Our expectation of everything being under control is unrealistic. Life comes at you fast. Brooding over unpredictable and uncontrollable things amounts to bondage. Simply accepting that we are often not in control is freeing.
4. You are not that important. This one hurts. We often think that the whole world should revolve around us. We think it is only our feelings that matter and our well-being that is important. We are loved by God in a very particular way, but that does not change the fact that we must often yield to others who are also loved by God in a very special way.
Sometimes other people are more important than we are. We might even be called upon to give our life so that others may live. We must yield to others whose needs are more crucial than our own. The world doesn’t exist just for us and what we want.
There is great peace and freedom in coming to accept this. We are often made so anxious if we are not recognized while others are, or if our feelings and preferences are not everyone’s priority. Accepting the truth that we are not that important allows us to relax and enjoy caring about other people and celebrating their importance.
5. You are going to die. We get all worked up about what this world dishes out, but just take a walk in a cemetery. Those folks were all worked up too. Now their struggles are over. If they were faithful, they are with God; they are now experiencing that “trouble don’t last always.”
This truth also helps us to do the most important thing: get ready to meet God. So many people spend their lives clowning around and goofing off, ignoring our most urgent priority. In the end, this is freeing because we are loosed from the many excessive and often conflicting demands of the world; we can concentrate on doing the one thing necessary. Our life simplifies and we don’t take this world too seriously because we understand that it is passing away. There is great peace and freedom in coming to accept this.
So there you have them: five hard truths that will set you free. Think about them. Memorize them. Pull them out when life comes at you fast and hard with its agenda of self-importance and the empty promise of perfect comfort here on earth. A simple, sober, humble, and focused life brings great serenity.
In times like these, consider well this text from Hebrews:
Since the children have flesh and blood, [Jesus] too shared in their humanity so that by his death he might destroy him who holds the power of death—that is, the devil—and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death (Heb. 2:14-15).
In the past I have written on these verses allegorically, pointing out that “the fear of death” can be understood more broadly as anything that diminishes us, that makes us feel less adequate than others. Maybe we think others are smarter or more popular that we are. Perhaps we do not feel attractive enough; we’re too tall or too short, too fat or too thin. Maybe we resent the fact that others are richer or more powerful. Perhaps we wish we were younger, stronger, and more energetic. Maybe we wish we were older, wiser, and more settled. Perhaps we feel diminished because we think others have a better marriage, a nicer home, or more accomplished children. Maybe we compare ourselves unfavorably to a sibling who has done better financially or socially than we have. Advertisers tap into this wider understanding of the fear of death (diminishment) to create anguish over our inadequacy, selflessly offering us their product, which will remedy the problem for just $19.95 plus shipping and handling.
But in the face of this most recent global panic about a relatively strong virus, we need also to ponder the literal meaning of this text. Whether you are of the view that this is an extreme threat that requires dramatic measures or you think the matter is exaggerated and the measures are too severe, it is clear that the fear of death has seized large numbers throughout the world. The text from Hebrews above should make us ponder the satanic origins of this gripping fear.
What makes the worldwide fear suspiciously satanic is that it is almost wholly focused on physical death and worldly setbacks. Would that we had such fears about our spiritual and moral well-being. There are innumerable threats to our very salvation in the temptations and seductions all about us. These can kill our soul through mortal sin. There are many drives of sin that fester in us like a cancer, hardening our hearts or giving us a “spiritual Alzheimer’s” wherein we forget why we were made and who is our Heavenly Father.
You see, I have a dream that we, as a world, recognize the gravity of our collective spiritual condition. In this dream, the heads of governments insist that we all follow strict protocols to avoid temptation as well as seducing others into sin. There would be 24/7 coverage, with updates on our progress, interviews with priests and religious, proclamation of scripture by moral and biblical experts, and stories of recovery and courage from the lives of the saints related by hagiographers. I dream of many rushing to prepare the test kits of examinations of conscience and an army of priests and bishops deployed to hear confessions around the clock. Well, you get the point.
It is certainly not wrong to look for a cure for the latest virus. I only wish we were as concerned for our spiritual and moral well-being. Jesus says, Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Instead, fear the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell (Matt 10:28). We do face physical threats in this world, but they are not our worst enemy. Moral plagues and sinful viruses can damage us eternally.
In times like these, when the temptation to fear death is so strong, resist the devil and run to God. Dwell in the shelter of the Most High. Be sheltered by Him from the scourge that lays waste at noon and the plague that prowls in the darkness (cf Ps 91). Make your first goal to stay spiritually alive and flee anything that might lead to mortal sin. If you do this, then even if you were to die, by dying in faith you would receive a maximum promotion (likely through Purgatory) to the heavenly realms. Be strong! Fear not!The devil is a liar; he wants us to fear lesser things so that we ignore the more serious. Wash your hands, but don’t forget the spiritual version: Cleanse your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded. Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you (James 4:8).
As we examine the Gospel for this weekend’s Mass we do well to understand that is about human desires and how the Lord reaches us through them. Prior to examining the text in detail, let’s consider a few things:
What it is that really makes you happy? We desire so many things: food, water, shelter, clothing, and creature comforts. We long for affection, peace, and a sense of belonging. Sometimes we want stability and simplicity, at others we yearn for change and variety. Our hearts are a sea of desires, wishes, and longings. Today’s Gospel says that a woman went to the well to draw water. She represents each one of us and her desire for water is symbolic of all our desires.
In reality, your desires are infinite. Can you remember a time when you were ever entirely satisfied, when you wanted absolutely nothing else? Even if you can recall such a time, I’ll bet it didn’t last long. That is because our desires are without limit.
The well in today’s Gospel symbolizes this world. Jesus says to the woman, Everyone who drinks of this water will thirst again. The world cannot provide what we are really looking for. No matter how much it offers us, it will never suffice, for the world is finite while our desires are infinite. In this way our heart teaches us something very important about ourselves: We were not made for this world; we were made for something, someone, who is infinite, who alone can satisfy us. We were made for God.
The water offered is the Holy Spirit. Jesus said elsewhere, “If any one thirst, let him come to me and drink. He who believes in me, as the scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart shall flow rivers of living water.’” Now this he said about the Spirit, which those who believed in him were to receive (Jn. 7:37-39).
The Catechism of the Catholic Church has this to say about the meanings of our longings:
The desire for God is written in the human heart, because man is created by God and for God; and God never ceases to draw man to himself. Only in God will he find the truth and happiness he never stops searching for. … With his longings for the infinite and for happiness, man questions himself about God’s existence. In all this he discerns signs of his spiritual soul. The soul, the seed of eternity we bear in ourselves, irreducible to the merely material, can have its origin only in God (Catechism # 27, 33).
Scripture speaks to us about our desires:Of You my heart has spoken: “Seek His face.” It is your face O Lord that I seek; hide not your face! (Psalm 27:8-9). Only in God will my soul be at rest, he is my hope, my salvation (Psalm 62:1).
Augustine wrote these classic words to describe our truest longing: “Thou hast made us for Thyself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless till they rest in Thee” (Confessions 1,1).
With these in mind, let’s look at the journey that this woman makes to Jesus. Things start out rough, but in the end she discovers her heart’s truest desire. The journey is made in stages.
Rendezvous – Notice that Jesus is the one who takes the initiative here. As the Lord teaches elsewhere, It was not you who chose me, It was I who chose you (John 15:16). Jesus encounters a woman from Samaria at Jacob’s well. She desires water, but Jesus knows that her desire is for far more than water or in fact anything that the world gives. Her desire has brought her face to face with Jesus. It is a holy and fortunate rendezvous. Jesus begins a discussion with her about her heart’s truest longing.
Request – The discussion begins with a request. The text says, It was about noon. A woman of Samaria came to draw water. Jesus said to her, “Give me a drink.” Imagine, God asking you for anything; what a stunning thing! What can she or anyone really give God? The answer is simply this: the gift of our very self. God has put a threshold before our heart that even He will not cross unless we first say yes to Him. Jesus’ request initiates a discussion, a dialogue of two hearts. As we shall see, the woman struggles with this dialogue. To be sure, it is a delicate, even painful process for us to accept the Lord’s invitation to self-giving. Something within us makes us draw back in fear. Scripture says, It is an awesome thing to fall into the hands of living God (Heb 10:31).
Rebuke – Sure enough, she draws back with fear and anger. She says, “How can you, a Jew, ask me, a Samaritan woman, for a drink?”—For Jews use nothing in common with Samaritans. In our journey to God, we do not always trust or understand Him at first. Some are afraid to relate to God because they think they will lose their freedom or that they will have to change too much. Others loathe the commandments or fear that they cannot keep them. Still others are angry at the unexpected twists and turns of life and do not want to trust a God who doesn’t always give them what they want. The woman’s anger is not really at Jesus; it is at “the Jews,” with whom the Samaritans have a hostile relationship. This is sometimes the case with God as well. It is not always the Lord Jesus, or God the Father, whom people hate or distrust; rather, it is Christians. Some have been hurt by the Church or by Christians; others have prejudiced opinions influenced by a hostile media and world.
Repetition – Jesus repeats His offer for a relationship. He says, “If you knew the gift of God and who is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked him and he would have given you living water.” I don’t know about you, but I am mighty glad that the Lord does not merely write us off when we say no to Him. Jesus stays in the conversation and even sweetens the deal by making an offer to give her fresh, living water. The Lord does the same for us. First He gave the Law, then He gave the prophets; now He gives His Son. It just keeps getting better. First He gave water, then He changed it to wine, and then He changed it to His blood. Despite our often harsh rejection of God, He keeps the dialogue going.
Ridicule – The woman is still hostile and now even ridicules Jesus: “Sir, you do not even have a bucket and the cistern is deep; where then can you get this living water? Are you greater than our father Jacob, who gave us this cistern and drank from it himself with his children and his flocks?” To the world, the teachings of God often appear to be foolishness. People often dismiss religious faith as fanciful and unrealistic.
Reminder – Jesus now re-frames the question by reminding the woman of the obvious: Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again. What she is relying on can’t come through for her. The world’s water does not satisfy us; the world’s delights are transitory. They promise ultimate satisfaction, but soon we are thirsty again. The world is the gift that keeps on taking; it takes our money, loyalty, freedom, and time, while giving us only temporary—and ultimately unsatisfying pleasures—in return. It’s a bad deal. Every one who drinks from this well be thirsty again.
Re-upping the offer – Jesus says, “… but whoever drinks the water I shall give will never thirst; the water I shall give will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” Here the Lord speaks of happiness and satisfaction that he will give, that grows in us and makes us more and more alive. The “water” he offers (as noted above) is the gift of the Holy Spirit. As the Holy Spirit lives in us and transforms us, we become more and more content with what we have. As the life of God grows in us, we become more alive in God and joyful in what He is doing for us. This is what the Lord offers us: the gift of a new and transformed life, the gift to become fully alive in God. I am a witness of this. How about you?
Result – The woman has moved toward Jesus; she has warmed to His offer. She says, “Sir, give me this water, so that I may not be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water.” Here is the result of the Lord’s persistence. Thank God that He does not give up on us. He keeps calling, even when we say no, even when we sin; He just keeps call our name!
Requirement – Jesus wants to give this gift, but first He must help her to make room for it. For the truth is that she has unrepented sin. A cup that is filled with sand cannot be filled with water. The sand must first be emptied out and then the cup cleansed. Thus Jesus says, “Go call your husband and come back.” The woman answered and said to him, “I do not have a husband.” Jesus answered her, “You are right in saying, ‘I do not have a husband.’ For you have had five husbands, and the one you have now is not your husband. What you have said is true.” Now she does what most of us do when we are in an uncomfortable spot: she changes the subject. She attempts to engage in a discussion about where to worship. Jesus is patient and answers her, but ultimately draws her back to the subject at hand: her heart and what her desires are really all about.
Reconciliation – At this point the conversation gets private; we are not permitted to listen in. It is just between her and Jesus. But whatever it was, she is elated and will later declare, “He told me everything I ever did.” There is no sense in her tone that Jesus was merely accusatory. Rather, it would seem that Jesus helped her to understand her heart and her struggle. An old song says, “I once was lost in sin but Jesus took me in and then a little light from heaven filled my soul. He bathed my heart in love and he wrote my name above and just a little talk with Jesus made me whole.” Here, Jesus reconciles her with God and with her own self.
Rejoicing – The woman left her water jar and went into the town and said to the people, “Come see a man who told me everything I have done. Could he possibly be the Christ?” They went out of the town and came to him.” Do not miss that little detail: she left her water jar. She left behind the very thing she was depending on to collect the things of the world. What is your “water jar”? What do you use to gain access to the world and to collect its offerings? For most of us, it is money. Scripture says, For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil. Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs (1 Tim 6:10). At any rate, the woman is joyfully empowered to leave this enslaving water jar behind. Freed from its load, she is able to run to town and declare Jesus to others. Her joy must have been infectious, for soon enough they are following her out to meet the Lord!
This is the journey of a woman who represents each one of us. This is our journey, out of dependence, out of an enslaving attachment to the world. It is our journey unto Jesus, who alone can set us free. Here is our journey to understand that our desires are ultimately about God.