Laying down our lives

 "Today's sexual politics and disputes over gender are, at least in this connection, but another variation on a longstanding aversion to the way of discipleship. Let it be said that men have far more to answer for than women, for they have been more in charge of deriving alternatives to the way of the cross. But let us be completely candid: to say that Mary's way is not our way is to say that Christ's way is not our way." - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

First, I love the subtle way that Fr. Neuhaus has linked the way of discipleship to the way of the cross. There is no embracing discipleship without embracing the cross and all it implies for us. Laying down our lives, in one way or another, is not an optional thing that only some are called to do. I have written at length and on multiple occasions previously about one context in which husbands, including me, have often failed to answer this call. We have made women fight for their autonomy by not being willing to treat them how God has treated us all in this regard. Sometimes we all overreach what our freedom means for us, imposing restrictions or consequences on others in the process. 

So while some are called to the ultimate sacrifice of our lives for the sake of the kingdom, more of us, I think, are called to embrace our calling to support our loved ones who are called in different ways than we are. Sometimes this can pierce our hearts, and feel like its own death. 

Holy Hunger

"For paradise we long. For perfection we were made. We don't know what it would look or feel like, but we must settle for nothing less. This longing is the source of the hunger and dissatisfaction that mark our lives; it drives our ambition." - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

Much to my surprise, I keep being led to reflect on passages in this book that I've never written about before. Not exclusively, but still. 

For most sins, it's easy to see something good that has been corrupted. They tend to represent some basic human need that has become a disproportionate priority. Each of the seven deadly sins has a corresponding virtue identified as its cure or counterpart. Those virtues are not the need grown out of control, but the approach to bringing balance back into our lives. While Fr. Neuhaus isn't specifically calling out sin here, what he's expressing is the longing that can lead to several of the deadly sins, including greed, gluttony, envy, and lust. And he seems to be saying to be careful not to throw the baby out with the disgusting bath water. 

"The hunger is for nothing less than paradise, nothing less than perfect communion with the Absolute--with the Good, the True, the Beautiful--communion with the perfectly One in whom all the fragments of our scattered existence come together at last and forever. We must not stifle this longing. It is a holy dissatisfaction. Such dissatisfaction is not a sickness to be healed, but the seed of a promise to be fulfilled." - ibid.

Don't let the longing grow out of proportion into sin, but neither squelch it out. I've skipped the part about how our friendships and loves are unsatisfactory, less than whole efforts to fulfill this longing, because to me it's more important to remember how they give us the greatest satisfaction when we receive them in the context of the greater longing for the Perfect. Each time we allow God's love to form a relationship in our lives we must avoid the temptation to grasp it and twist it into something that meets only our needs and desires. When we do, we find that those become part of how God works in and through us to create a fellowship that is the smallest insight into the perfect one we will finally enter into one day. Sometimes we are privileged to work on the twisted parts of those relationships and let God make them more conducive to his plan for our eternal lives.

When I come back to read these words, I want to remember that they were written in a time of great turmoil, as Russia has invaded the Ukraine. Even Putin's desire to recreate (his flawed recollections of) Soviet glory has roots in something not entirely evil. Our battle is still spiritual, as is our enemy. (That doesn't at all mean that we should let him have his way.) Even though I am now too old to be required to fast on this Ash Wednesday, I have entered into prayer and fasting anyway, and am offering the hunger in my belly as a further prayer for the protection of the people of Ukraine and an unlikely change of heart for those who have undertaken this invasion.

I'm a thief!

"Recall now the two criminals. Mentioned in all four Gospels, they were called thieves by two of the Gospel writers. Whatever else they had stolen in their lives, the one, commonly called 'the good thief,' stole at the end a reward he did not deserve." - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

I am convinced that the chief obstacle to Christians living our calling is our failure to realize that we are all, at best, the good thief. At whatever point we accept Jesus as our Lord and Savior, we enter into the transformative journey to become Christ present in the world. And yet, rather than embrace the truth that we remain unworthy of the priceless gift that God has given us through Jesus, we often live our lives as though the purpose of our faith is to help us reach the point at which we no longer need a Savior. I'm pretty certain that isn't God's plan for us, but rather that we continually embrace our complete dependence on God's grace and mercy as poured out for us in Christ Jesus. 

We think of heaven as a reward, and indeed it is. But it is Jesus' reward, not ours. At our best moment, we are the good thief, undeserving of grace but receiving it because God is love and we, wretched though we be, are God's beloved sons and daughters. We deserve that no more than we do our own conception. 

The Great Reversal

 "Yet it hardly seems possible that injustice could be set right by a still greater injustice, that wrong could be set right by a still greater wrong. That is what St. Paul seems to suggest, however, in the passage in which he speaks of God in Christ reconciling the world to himself:  "For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that we might become the righteousness of God." The language is radical. It is not simply that he bore the consequences of sin, but that he was made to be sin. The great reversal reverses all of our preconceptions: God must become what we are in order that we might become what God is. To effectively take our part, he must take our place." - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

Fr. Neuhaus goes on in the next few pages to further probe this idea of how we struggle to accept this truth because it fundamentally offends our sense of justice. Everything in us screams that this cannot be right, despite our having everything to gain from it. 

So why do we resist it? Could it be because we are afraid to embrace its implications? Forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive everyone who sins against us. And lead us not into temptation" (Lk 11:4). If God has taken the judgment we deserve upon himself, the first part of this verse calls us to a response that portends potentially great consequences. As for the second part, we have long believed the lie that our desires are a good thing and our sin is no big deal. We're fond of our temptations, and embracing the great reversal means that we must recognize the truth so that we can receive the mercy we have been given.

There is no way to accept God's mercy without becoming vessels of it for others.

Giving myself timelessness

I do not ask you to forget the present and imagine that it is Holy Week. Rather, I invite you to be open to the thought that you are now calling the present is Holy Week, for all time was there, is there, at the cross. - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

I have previously blogged on this passage here, and given the subject matter I shouldn't be surprised that it still seems relevant as I start reading this book for the fifth or sixth time. I've reflected on it so often that I will probably often find, as I'm prompted to write again by this excellent read, that there are few passages I haven't already written about. Still, this is part of my enjoyment of this great book, and I am certain it will continue to be relevant to my faith journey. I will therefore share, probably with no audience, my thoughts as I progress through it again in the upcoming Lenten season. After all, I'm in a different place from where I've ever been before, so I can expect to have new insights. 

I have actually tried to pick this book up a couple times in more recent years, since my last total reading. But I've always concluded that I've waited too late into Lent or Holy Week to read the whole thing. I've therefore skipped over this beginning part, and as a result missed coming back to this central point that makes the entire rest of the book work for me, as I discussed in that previous post. Relationships deepen when the present obscures other urgencies. So this year I hope to give myself the gift of fully rediscovering this treasure as I take the time to reflect on Jesus' love as revealed in this defining purpose of His Incarnation. I hope to keep the demands of life from distracting me from reading and meditating until I find something I want to reflect on, perhaps for the second or third occasion. I hope to enter more deeply still the relationship to which my loving God always calls me, being drawn more fully into the unfathomable depths of boundless Love.

Measuring progress - days become weeks

21, so 3.

I don't expect I'll post about this on a weekly basis, at least not for long. But for now, it's good to keep reminding myself how God continues to provide grace. I'm still weak, but am trying to trust Him each day. 

If there's a next time I post about this, I'll have to drop the label "Lent" . . . 

Passionate Grace

In our reading of the Passion today, I found a moment of connection with my darkest, most shameful moment. As it briefly washed over me, I found a response other than crushing regret. I remembered that the intervening years have brought an abundance of grace and reconciliation and resurrection out of something that definitely needed to die in me.

Seems to fit today's reflection from Dynamic Catholic.

I'm sure that video link will be cleared at some point. The theme was not rushing past Palm Sunday and Holy Week to get to Easter.

Measuring progress

16

The more important part is God revealing the next thing He wants to work on, I think.

Measuring progress

Ten. But I'm beginning to feel that sense of inevitable failure. 

God, please be my strength.

Measuring progress

Seven.

I wonder what it would be like if my quality of life depended on this number never returning to zero, if this was as important as a recovering alcoholic, drug, or gambling addict abstaining from their addiction? Would it make it easier to stay on track, or harder, if my perceived stakes were greater? Would there be more pressure, a greater longing for what I could never experience again - especially, in my case, for an alleged part of myself that I've denied? Would I depend on God more, or use the addictive dynamic to reinforce my mistaken notions of my nature to an even greater degree? 

I think that the brain mechanism of my addiction and others is probably similar. I have always judged that the consequences of mine are less, but Matthew Kelly has revealed the lie behind the common perception that this a personal thing that doesn't matter much. 

I also worry that the adversary will use this fresh awareness to set me up for a bigger fall. I don't, for instance, treat this as morally equivalent to eating more than I should - there may be similarities, but it isn't the same thing; after all, you have to eat to live - and I also no longer treat it as no big deal. I am coming to recognize that every temptation we experience is an assault on our identity and our destiny, and we must meet them in the same was that Jesus met his. I know that I am a beloved Son of the Most High who lives by His grace and draws upon His strength in my weakness, and my purpose is to glorify Him with my entire life. 

And this is one area in which I have struggled to do so for as long as it has been physiologically possible.

What a helpful post

Today's Best Lent Ever post offers me fresh insight into how virtue and character fit into the greater picture of holiness. I think the Desert Fathers and Mothers would caution us about making virtue and character the goal in and of themselves, but I think they'd confirm their importance in greater scheme of living in Christ Jesus.

True self vs. false self

Even after sharing on this, just this morning, with a friend, I still manage find myself getting caught up in thoughts and wishes that lead me away from my true identity and my place in God.

Lenten journey

Nice day. Good men's group. Ok retreat on a subject I love. Glad i didn't go to Columbus, as tired as i was. Soup stock cooking. Decent nap. Nice games with wife and granddaughter.

Challenges nonetheless. It is hard being the only one in a relationship who recognizes when they should apologize.

Do the next right thing

In today's Best Lent Ever reflection, Matthew Kelly says this is the approach that truly maximizes our long-term happiness. 

I'm trying to decide whether he's full of bovine defecation. I've already been doing this for a really long time.

One of my favorite songs from The Way of the Cross (again) this year:

Mercy

Susan Bentall Boersma

Craig Courtney

I dare not lift my guilty eyes
I hide my lips in trembling shame
And in the darkness of my soul
I shrink from Your rekindling flame

Kyrie eleison.
Kyrie eleison.
Have mercy.

In mercy cover me with grace
and blot out my iniquity
Renew my heart, and wash me clean
Grant with Your pardon purity.

Kyrie eleison.
Kyrie eleison.
Have mercy.

In equal measure of Your love, You promise mercy

Tender compassion to the one who seeks Your face

A broken heart, a fainting soul, a contrite spirit

together cry for Your forgiveness

Against You only have I sinned

My deeds are evil in your sight

Of Your forgiveness let me sing

And in my singing take delight

Kyrie eleison.

Kyrie eleison.

Have mercy.

Have mercy.

Have mercy.

Thank you, Susan and Craig, for this incredible song.

And just that fast . . .

. . . I forgot all about Ash Wednesday and grabbed a piece of candy out of the dish in the lobby on the way past. 

It tastes awful.

In the desert

I know it's early yet, but I am finding it difficult to enter into Lent. 

I feel as if I've been living in the desert for so long already.

But it is where I belong, so . . . 

More strange glory

In the cross we see that of which humanity is capable: self-transcendence in surrender to the Other. All the evidence to the contrary, we are capable of love. The sign of shame and death becomes the sign of cosmic possibility. - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

It is certain that I am again not going to complete this book this Lent, even despite having very few times I have been inspired to write about new passages on which I haven't previously reflected. Taking two weeks off will do that, I suppose.

Fr. Neuhaus speaks of the strange glory of the cross. Even before first reading this excellent book, I was in agreement with him, as I spoke of the cross in a specific context. Considering Ephesians 5, I have often referred to a paraphrase I once read of the verse Husbands, love your wives as Christ loves the Church, which was rendered, Husbands, go the way of the cross for your wives. I would tell my fellow married friends how we consider the cross something to be avoided, but Jesus shows us that it is something to be embraced, that there is in fact no love without sacrifice. Love is selfless, and avoiding pain is not.

In the midst of a hurt, we can have trouble thinking of the harm that someone has done to us in such terms. It can seem unhealthy to keep leaving ourselves vulnerable. But I have seen, even recently, how the right focus on the other in the context of what I have been forgiven can serve to bring healing. It isn't easy, or natural, but it can be a glorious thing.

Living the Way

At the foot of the cross, there is sorrow;
At the foot of the cross, there is love;
Flowing down together in a river of salvation,
Covering all the world with grace. 

At the foot of the cross, there is sadness;
At the foot of the cross, there is hope;
Flowing down together in a river of forgiveness, 
Covering all the world with grace. 

This is where I have, ultimately found myself this Lenten season.

There is deep sorrow when someone you love hurts someone else you love.
There is great sadness when that person is non-repentant of their actions.
There is hurt when that person has intentionally hidden their actions from you, then lies to you about it even when you try to be gentle in your confrontation. (The person has since apologized for the deception.)

But there is love and hope at the foot of the cross. There is salvation, and forgiveness.

And I hope that there is healing and growth.

After all: I have been forgiven a greater debt.

More on The Way of The Cross

I had hoped to share this evening with a friend who is leaving, but it wasn't to be. In fact, none of the people I personally invited came.

I felt so humbled to realize how the prayers and reflections which I was blessed to play a role in writing still continue to resonate even eight or nine years later. I don't remember exactly when we rewrote our service, but I know we did the new version for at least two seasons before our friends Matt and Ellie left.

Several songs really struck me this time. I can't believe I never really paid any attention to the Latin lyrics to Adoramus te Christe, which of course we repeat in English at the beginning of each station: Adoramus te Christe, et benedicimus tibi, quia per santam crucem tuam redemisti mundum. We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you, because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world.

I love singing the Chanticleer Ave Maria, and especially having enough strong men's voices to do it justice.

The pieces that most "hit me where I live" seemed to be Mercy (by Craig Courtney), and Song of Surrender (Hodge, Lantz).

It felt as if I finally reentered into the season of Lent. I'd allowed personal events this season to really knock me off course.