Thank God for Light!
Now that spring is approaching, the days are growing longer. Hooray! No more getting up and going to church in the dark. The Gospel of John opens by calling Jesus the light of the human race. Jesus identifies himself as the light of the world. I can see why. The other night I was driving on a highway in an unfamiliar car. In the dark I had a hard time seeing the lanes…until another car flashed its lights to let me know I didn’t have the lights on. Jesus is the light for our life’s journey. He shows us the way to go and keeps us from crashing.
Light happens to be my favorite image for God. It has qualities that remind me of God. Light is mysterious. We still don’t know if it is waves or particles. If you’ve ever marveled at the night sky filled with stars or at a city landscape decorated by night lights, you know that light is beautiful. That is why we string lights on our Christmas trees and set candles on our dining room tables. Light is also comforting. Ask any child who can only sleep with a nightlight on, or recall a time when the lighted windows of your home as you approached it gave you a warm, cozy feeling. Light enables us to see truth. It lets children see that the monster in the bedroom is really only the vacuum cleaner. It helps us read and gain knowledge. Cartoonists show that an idea has dawned by drawing a light bulb over a person’s head. Light means serenity, safety, and security. Lighthouses warn ships at sea of dangerous rocks. We keep flashlights handy in case the power goes out.
No wonder Jesus told us to let our light shine. By bringing his life and truth into the world, we help dispel the darkness and gloom. We guide others in making a safe journey.
You might light a candle today and reflect on the ways God is light for you.
How have you been light for others? How can you be in the future?
What is your favorite image for God?
Ash Wednesday and Evangelization
A mom once told me that her four-year-old came home from school on Ash Wednesday with ashes on his forehead. When she asked, “Who gave them to you?” he said, “God.” “And what did God look like?” she asked. “Well, he wore a purple dress and had white hair,” the boy responded. Ash Wednesday and Palm Sunday are said to be the two days most Catholics go to church— because they get something.
The tradition of being marked with a cross on Ash Wednesday is longstanding. (Remember how in the book of Jonah even the livestock wore ashes as a sign they repented?) In the old days, ashes on Ash Wednesday was a reminder that we will die someday, so we better shape up during Lent. Today the person administering the ashes is likely to say, “Go and be faithful to the Gospel.” We are sent to witness to the Gospel, and all those who are marked with the black cross (or smudge) are witnessing to their faith in Jesus. Some people wash the mark off right away. My friend, who is a clerk in a supermarket, dared to keep hers on at work. She wasn’t sure if it was an infraction of the dress code or not. Her boss said nothing about it. But the people who came through her aisle did. Whenever someone asked about the mark on her forehead, she had an opportunity to share her faith.
Of course, outward signs like ashes are not the important thing. Jesus scolded the Pharisees for the wide phylacteries on their foreheads and their long tassels. Why? Because their actions contradicted what they purportedly stood for. How great it would be if we attracted attention not because of our ashes, crucifixes, religious tattoos, or veils, but because of our good deeds, our kindness, our generosity, our bravery. Those of us who are not so much Gospel (good news) people as bad news now have six weeks to work on a complete makeover.
What can you do this Lent to witness to Jesus by your actions?
God of Surprises
Long ago a woman sent me a letter in which she shared a thought-provoking experience. She said that one day in church she was overcome with sadness and began to cry. To her distress, she discovered that she didn’t have a single tissue with her. She turned to the woman seated beside her, a stranger, and asked if she had a Kleenex she could have. The pew partner opened her purse and took out a lovely lace handkerchief. She handed it to the weeping woman and said, “Keep it.” This incident led the woman to reflect on times when she asked God for just a “Kleenex” and he gave her a “lace handkerchief.” (more…)
Bearing Wrongs as a Work of Mercy
Every so often something you’ve heard a hundred times strikes you as never before. This happened to me last Sunday during a homily. The priest was naming the works of mercy. When, in listing the spiritual works, he said, “Bear wrongs patiently,” I took notice. “That’s an odd work of mercy,” I thought. On reflecting more, I realized that it was a way of being merciful. When someone hurts our feelings or acts unjustly to us, our first impulse is self-defense. We want to retaliate. It’s the old eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth mentality. If we are not just Christian in name only, however, we respond with mercy for the person who out out hatred, jealousy or sheer stupidity has inflicted pain on us.
This is the way of Jesus, who preached, “When someone strikes you on one cheek, offer the other.” He gave us an example by enduring his torture and execution silently when he could have blasted the perpetrators off the face of the earth. The saints are also models in bearing wrongs, sometimes to an extreme degree. One that stands out is St. Joseph of Calasanz, the founder of the Piarists. Wealthy people protested his free schools. Then members of his own community campaigned against him. After complaints reached the pope, Joseph was arrested at the age of 86 and tried before the Holy Office. His work and his community were stopped, but St. Joseph never stopped protecting and defending his persecutors. His order was restored twenty years after his death. More recently we have the example of Cardinal Joseph Bernardin, who patiently suffered being falsely accused of sexual abuse and forgave his accuser. Another example is St. Julie Billiart, the foundress of the Sisters of Notre Dame, put up with untold harassment and persecution by clergy. This did not keep her from forging ahead and doing what God had called her to do.
Today Father Tom asked, “What if the man who was bothered by the guy texting during a movie had turned the other cheek instead of shooting him? What if the man offended by loud music coming from the teenagers’ car had turned the other cheek instead of killing a youth?” What if the driver cut off by another car had turned the other cheek instead of shooting a father in front of his children? The list could go on.
Bearing wrongs patiently is also a way of being merciful to ourselves: It frees us from becoming vengeful monsters.
Can you think of another outstanding model of bearing wrongs patiently?
