Easter
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Betrayal, Prayer, Grace: The Way To Easter

Today is the last day of Lent; tomorrow, we begin the Triduum – Holy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday. These are the holiest days of the year for Catholics, as we enter into Christ’s last days, the institution of the Eucharist, His example of washing the feet of the Apostles, His Passion and Death. They are somber days, quiet, contemplative. They are days of mystery and wonder, prayer and longing, peace and unrest.

Those themes (mystery, wonder, prayer, longing, peace, unrest) are outlined for us in the Mass readings for today.  In the first reading, Isaiah seems to be celebrating the gifts he’s been given in his prophetic office: a well-trained tongue, ears to hear God. But this passage is also about betrayal: those who oppose his words beat him,  spit on him, pull hairs out of this head. Yet, in spite of this, Isaiah remains faithful and grateful.

The psalmist cries out, “Lord, in your great love, answer me!” He is assured that God loves him and will answer him. He praises God in song, glorifies Him in thanksgiving. Yet again, we see betrayal: his own brothers have cast him out. They make his food inedible and give him vinegar to drink. Like Isaiah, the psalmist remains stalwart in his faith: “You who see God, may your hearts revive!:

Finally, and saddest of all, is the Gospel. Judas has put into motion his betrayal of Jesus. Jesus is well-aware of this, yet He includes his betrayer to dine with the group that night. He blesses the bread and wine – pronouncing them now His own Body and Blood – and Judas partakes. The most stunning sinner in history still has a place at the table.

It is hard to imagine the magnitude of pain Jesus felt by this betrayal. Here was a man in whom Jesus had seen great potential, a man fit for building the Kingdom of God. Jesus walked and talked with this man, ate with him, laughed with him, taught him. Judas was a brother in faith, until … he wasn’t.

Have you ever been betrayed? Most of us can relate, in at least a small way. Some of us have known the pain of infidelity in marriage, or learning that a beloved child has been stealing from us to feed a drug habit. Maybe a dear friend destroyed a confidence and hurt our reputation. Some of us remember being befriended by someone in school, but the only intention of that person was to get close enough so as to make us look foolish with their friends standing by, laughing at our expense.

Being human means you’ll get hurt. Our emotions are a gift from God, just like everything else about us, save sin. We say and do hurtful things. We get drawn into gossip. We harbor resentments and lash out. But for all our experience, we still do not know the depth of Christ’s pain.

It was not just the betrayal of Judas, however great a sin that was. It was the denial of Peter. It was the fact that all of His Apostles (except for John) fled when He needed them the most. It was the humiliation of being stripped, and His Father mocked. It was the weight of the Cross – a burden so large no man could lift it. The appalling weight of the Cross: made oppressive by our sins.

It is easy, sitting in our clean churches, our tidy homes, our coffee shop, to judge Judas. Yet, do we not betray Christ every day? We sin. We reject the life God has given us, in essence saying, “I know this is wrong, but I want it. I choose this action over the life God offers.” It is why, on Palm Sunday, it is so easy for us to cry out both “Hosanna!” and “Crucify Him!” Theologian Romano Guardini:

And yet, aren’t there many days in our lives on which we sell him, against our best knowledge, against our most sacred feeling, in spite of duty and love, for some vanity, or sensuality, or profit, or security, or some private hatred or vengeance? Are these more than thirty pieces of silver? We have little cause to speak of “the traitor” with indignation or as someone far away and long ago. Judas himself unmasks us. We understand his Christian significance in the measure that we understand him from our own negative possibilities, and we should beg God not to let the treachery into which we constantly fall become fixed within us.

We cannot save ourselves from betrayal. Our only hope is Christ. Over the next few days, our most fervent prayer should be one of contrition for our sins and for the whole world.

Today’s Mass begins with the priest praying on our behalf: “O God, who willed your Son to submit for our sake to the yoke of the Cross, so that you might drive from us the power of the enemy, grant us, your servants, to attain the grace of the resurrection.” May our Holy Week begin and end with this prayer, so that we may know the mystery, wonder, prayer, longing, peace, unrest of today’s readings, and thus enter fully into the joy of Easter morning!

 

EH headshotElise Hilton is an author, blogger and speaker. Her role at Diocesan Publications is Editor & Writer with the Marketing Team. She has worked in parish faith formation and Catholic education for over 30 years. A passionate student of theology, Elise enjoys sharing her thoughts on parish communication, the role of social media in the Church, Franciscan spirituality and Catholic parenting. To enquire about booking her as a speaker, please contact her at ehilton@diocesan.com.

 

paschal mystery
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The Paschal Mystery And Divine Failure

 Failure.  Suffering.  Defeat.  Loss.

We work so hard to avoid these things.  We’re pushed to achieve and succeed in a world that seems divided between winners and losers.  We internalize these messages when we do not measure up to society’s expectations, or worse, our own expectations for ourselves.

Defeat and failure is where we find the prophet Jeremiah in today’s first reading.  Jeremiah is having an interior crisis.  We often think of the prophets as those who have the fixed vison of God before them always.  Sometimes they are granted this vision, such as Isaiah’s mystical revelation of God’s glorious throne. (Is 6)  But often, their vision is obscured and they are plunged down into the discouragement and despondency of failure.  Read Jeremiah’s entire prayer in chapter 20, where his suffering has reached the point that he rues the day of his birth and wishes that he had been aborted in his mother’s womb.  His is deep spiritual anguish.

Failure. Over and Over.

We see this pattern often in scripture.  John the Baptist is given vision, “Behold the Lamb of God . . . I saw the Spirit come down.” (Jn 1:29-34)  Later, jailed facing death, he is denied this vision and sends his disciples to Jesus to ask if he is indeed the One or should they look for another. (Mt 11:2-6)  At Caesarea Philippi, Peter proclaims Jesus, “The Christ, the Son of the living God.”   He immediately followed this divinely-given insight by tempting Jesus to turn away from the road of suffering and death. (Mt 16:13-23)  Many of the same people who chanted “Hosanna to the Son of David!” on Palm Sunday roared “Crucify him!” only days later.  Even Christ himself, the quintessential Prophet was not spared.  On the road to Jerusalem to face his destiny, Jesus is transfigured and hears the words every son longs to hear, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.”  In Gethsemane and on the Cross, he feels the full weight of divine abandonment: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Hearts of Stone

In today’s Gospel, Jesus is confronted by his ministry’s failure to penetrate the hearts of his own people.  Their hearts have become as hardened stone, and now they physically pick up rocks to violently stone him.  It seems strange to call Jesus’ ministry a failure, but what else could we call it from a worldly perspective?

After a promising beginning, full of signs and wonders, Jesus loses followers, from the rich young man through those who could not accept his Eucharistic teaching.  One of his inner circle betrays him, and his chosen leader and Rock, Peter, denies him.  Only a handful had the devotion to stand at the foot of his cross.  In the eyes of the world, Jesus and his ministry are a failure.

But this is our entrance into the heart of Christ’s Paschal Mystery.  Why do we call it a mystery?  God is Life. He is the Source and Ground of all Being.  God cannot die.  Yet God does die on Calvary’s Cross.  God is All-Powerful.  He has no weakness. Yet he is delivered up, defenseless, to the politically and religiously powerful to be scourged, mocked, abused, killed.  The ultimate sin, human beings murdering their God, becomes the act of ultimate love and redemption.  Defeat and death become the triumph of eternal life. We cannot intellectually reconcile these things.  We can only enter into the Paschal Mystery sacramentally.  Theologian Romano Guardini: “There are profound questions that return after every proposed solution, mysteries whose intrinsic meanings, not solved but lived, increasingly clarify the faith of those who live them.”

Success Is Not a Gospel Category

Perhaps your Lent has been like mine.  A failure.  Scuttled, intermittent prayers.  Lost opportunities to generously give, serve, and stand in solidarity with the poor and vulnerable.  Self-indulgent in food and drink.  Broken promises to God and those close to me.  Still struggling and committing the same sins that I repented of on Ash Wednesday.

Fortunately, success is not a Gospel category.  In light of Christ Crucified, failure may be more beneficial to our spiritual growth than success. We can see ourselves as we truly are, wounded and in need of a Redeemer.  As C.S. Lewis wrote, “How can we meet (the divine) face to face till we have faces?”  All false fronts must drop before God if we are to enter into a real, holy, intimate relationship.  He desires hearts to become fruitful, not paragons of individual achievement, even spiritual achievement, not “self-made” women and men.

We approach God through the liturgies Holy Week as St. Therese of Lisieux did, “with hands emptied for your love . . . more and more emptied that they may be filled with You.”  Our own successes and achievements (which we owe to God anyway,) our own failures and defeats, mean little standing within the Paschal Mystery of Christ’s death and resurrection.

God’s forgiveness, grace, peace, and love are abundantly available to be received this blessed week, if we only die to our obsessions with success and failure, winning and losing, and enter the divine mystery of our redemption.  If we open ourselves up to filled with the love flowing from the heart of God, he will accomplish his saving work through us, making us fruitful beyond our imagining.

 

John Graveline, MTS, is a husband and father of three small children.  He has worked for almost twenty-five years as a catechist and ministry coordinator specializing in the evangelization of young adults, adults, and families.  He is currently on the pastoral staff of St. Luke University Parish at Grand Valley State University as the Faith Formation Director.  

 

forgiven
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When You Need to be Forgiven

“You have heard that it was said to your ancestors,
You shall not kill; and whoever kills will be liable to judgment.
But I say to you, whoever is angry with his brother
will be liable to judgment…

Therefore, if you bring your gift to the altar,
and there recall that your brother
has anything against you,
leave your gift there at the altar,
go first and be reconciled with your brother,
and then come and offer your gift.  (Mt 5:20-26)

In 2010, when I first decided to offer Seeking the Peace of Forgiveness retreats, the intention was to focus on my many experiences of forgiving others.  The first retreat was booked for August 2010, and I was busy preparing: asking for prayer support, reading various books – including Forgiveness: A Catholic Approach by R. Scott Hurd (Pauline Books and Media) as well as increasing my time in Eucharistic Adoration.  I was confident in my ability to help participants learn how to forgive. My arrogant confidence would soon be refined, as God quickly and profoundly reminded me of the other side of the forgiveness coin – when you are the one who needs to be forgiven. 

The first lesson came in July, during Vacation Bible School (VBS).  My family and I had participated in VBS at our last two parishes.  My children went first as campers and then later as volunteers and leaders.  In 2010, after recently adopting a little girl from China who was deaf, I retired from any administrative roles and was going as a parent and ASL interpreter for my daughter, Faith. My teenage sons had been volunteered to help, which was not a popular idea especially when it meant getting up at 7 am during summer vacation.

The first day, we were running very late. I was tired, stressed and happened to not be feeling well that morning – all things I could have easily used as excuses for what was about to happen.

We arrived late,  greeted by a group of not-so-friendly parents at the entrance, which I quickly learned was actually the line to enter the building. There was lots of noise and confusion, along with whining from my ‘teenage cherubs’ that added to my preexisting crabby condition. I finally got to the check-in and the hard-working volunteer (who was also the director), handed me a blue t-shirt indicating my Kindergarten daughter had been placed in the preschool group and … I LOST IT!

This was my first opportunity to travel through the VBS stations and I looked forward to sharing that experience with my daughter.  I wanted her to be with children her own age, even though  her language and maturity level were definitely on the younger range. I was NOT patient, nor charitable or kind with my words. The woman’s eyes welled with tears, and she offered to move my daughter to another group. Feeling overwhelmed and just wanting this experience over, I grabbed the t-shirt, mumbled, ‘”No, it is fine”, and off I went to join the main group in opening prayer and song.

After some angry ASL interpreting to the joyful, upbeat VBS welcoming songs, we were escorted into the preschool room. Immediately, I knew I had made a horrible mistake. We entered a room full of absolutely wonderful children, including two little girls, who like my daughter, had special needs. My daughter instantly fell in love with them, her fellow campers and the absolutely remarkable teacher. I instantly knew God’s plan for Faith was WAY better than mine.

At that moment I knew I had two choices. I could put my tail between my legs, find that volunteer, who was merely giving of her time and talent for the spiritual well-being of the children of our parish, and apologize. Or I could hope she’d not gotten a good look at me in the somewhat dark hall that morning, and go upon my day like nothing happened.  Praying for the strength, I decided to search her out and ask for forgiveness. It is never easy to admit when we’ve been a complete nincompoop but I knew it was exactly what I needed to do. Difficult, yes.  Embarrassing, absolutely, but no more than my behavior that morning! Her response was an immediate acceptance of my apology; she lit up with gratitude and surprise. She confided that I was not this first parent to treat her that way during VBS week; however I had been the first to ever come back an ask forgiveness for doing so. I am so glad I did, because this wonderful woman has became one of my most cherished friends.  

Days later, I received a startling email from an old friend, that I had inadvertently hurt a year prior.  Despite numerous attempts to atone and reconcile for my stupidity, her email confirmed those attempts had been to no avail as she was still angry with me and “would be for the rest of her life”.  While this hurt tremendously, but there was a great lesson to be seen in these two parallel encounters.

In both cases, I made terribly inconsiderate, hurtful choices.  In both situations, I offered a sincere apology.  One forgave, the other did not.  From the reconciled relationship has come more blessings than I can count, including a ripple effect of women growing in their faith after the VBS volunteer joined my bible study and invited others to do the same.  

The other relationship remains severed.  While my attempt to reconcile were not accepted, I did what Jesus asked of me in Matthew’s Gospel; I now feel confident approaching the altar blessed by the one who accepted my apology while forever holding the unforgiving friend in my heart.

 

Allison Gingras, founder www.ReconciledToYou.com (RTY);and host of A Seeking Heart on BreadboxMedia.com weekdays 10 am ET.   Allison is an writer and inspirational speaker.  She is a contributing author in “The Catholic Mom’s Prayer Companion” and the “Created to Relate” Journal and Author of the CareNote from Abbey Press entitled, “Being a Good Enough Parent”.  She presents the Catholic faith lived in the ordinary of everyday life through her experiences and humor.

Highway
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Advent: Get On The Holy Way Highway

Today’s Advent reflection for the 2nd Monday of Advent, 2016

Doesn’t it seem like that one time you really need to get someplace (say, a job interview or a hospital), traffic is completely jammed up? Bumper-to-bumper. Taillights as far as you can see. Your heart is pounding and your thoughts are racing.

Today’s readings are for just this occasion. (Not that you should pull this up on your smartphone while you’re stuck in traffic.) In the first reading, the prophet Isaiah stands in a dry and parched desert. There might not be a traffic jam here, but there is no water either; this place is dead. But Isaiah sees with the eyes of faith: The desert and the parched land will exult; the steppe will rejoice and bloom. “Fear not!” Isaiah proclaims: God will make a way for you in the desert: A highway will be there, called the holy way.”

In the Gospel today, a group of men have a problem. Their friend is ill; paralyzed in fact. They know that Jesus is in their village and they know He has the power to cure. But these men cannot get anywhere near Jesus; the crowd is too large. They are stuck, essentially, in a traffic jam.  But these guys were not going to give up. They hauled their friend, who was on a stretcher, up onto the roof of the house where Jesus was, tore a hole in the roof, and lowered their friend down. Jesus forgave the man’s sins, and then cured him. Clearly, these men knew about the Holy Way Highway.

In our spiritual lives, we often get stuck. We are in a dry, deserted place. God feels a long way from us. We cry out, “Help! God: where are You? I need you!” Or, like the men in the Gospel today, there are such huge obstacles in front of us it seems as if it would be easier to just turn around and go back home. We don’t see a way to get to where we need to go.

We need to get on the Holy Way Highway. It’s there – it’s always a choice. However, God will not force us onto it; we have to get on ourselves. And there are a few “tolls” that have to be paid:

No one unclean may pass over it,
nor fools go astray on it.
No lion will be there,
nor beast of prey go up to be met upon it.
It is for those with a journey to make,
and on it the redeemed will walk. 

We have to be prepared to do the work that God asks. We have to acknowledge our sinfulness and ask for forgiveness. We have to seek out wisdom and counsel. If we are striving to be closer and closer to God, then the highway is open to us.

This Advent, if you’re in a dry and deserted place, if you do not see a way to get closer to God, read the Mass readings for today. Pray over them. Ask God to help you see what you need to do during this holy season to prepare for the Coming of the Lord. Ask God to lead you onto the Holy Way Highway.

[Throughout the 2016 Advent season, we will be bringing you posts from a variety of writers. Our hope is that each of these will be a meaningful way for you to slow down, pray well, and prepare for the coming of our Lord. Today’s blogger is Elise Hilton, who regularly writes the“Living the Good News” blog for Diocesan Trinity Publications. Hilton is a writer, speaker and former educator, who now serves in the Marketing & Communications Department for Diocesan Trinity Publications. She is also an avid reader, mom of five and passionate about music. Today’s Mass readings may be found here.]

one step away
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One Step Away From Mercy

As a Church, we continue to celebrate the Year of Mercy. What a blessing this year has been to so many of us: a time to reconcile, a time to find peace within ourselves and with God. Pope Francis continues to use the theme of mercy to teach us about the ways of God, our Father.

This past Sunday, in the pope’s Angelus address, he spoke of the parable of the prodigal son.

Pope Francis said that what is most striking about the parable of the prodigal son is not the sad story of a young man who left his father and fell into sin, but his decision to “arise” and go to his father.

“The way back home is the way of hope and new life. God awaits to forgive us out on the road, waiting for us patiently, he sees us when we are still far away, he runs towards us, embraces us, forgives us. So is God! So is our Father! And his pardon erases the past and regenerates us in love,” the Pope said.

“When we sinners convert,” he continued, “we do not find God waiting for us with reproaches and hardness, because God saves, he gathers us home with joy and partying.”

Still, we all know how hard it is to make that decision to “arise” and ask forgiveness. We want to, but we are afraid. What if we are not met with open arms and joy? What if our Father is still angry with us? What if we are just too far gone to ever get back home?

The Christian band, Casting Crowns, answers this last question in their newest song, “One Step Away.” The song reminds us that no matter how far we have traveled, how big a mistake we may have made, we are still only one step away from our Father’s forgiveness.

It doesn’t matter how far you’ve gone
Mercy says you don’t have to keep running down the road you’re on
Love’s never met a lost cause

“Love’s never met a lost cause.” Every one of us has spent some time thinking we are a lost cause. Whether it is because of our own sin and arrogance, a loss in our life that we can’t seem to get over, or the pain and hurt we’ve felt when we are betrayed by someone we love, we’ve all said to ourselves, “This is a lost cause.”

But God has never met a lost cause. He has never looked at any of his children and thoughts, “There is not hope there.” No, God is nothing but hope, love, mercy … and he is always willing to forgive and gather us home.

Ignatian prayer
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Praying With St. Ignatius Loyola And The Jesuits

In 1491, a baby boy was born in northern Spain to a family of nobility. As he grew, he dreamed of knighthood and what a young boy would see as the romance of battle and courtly life.

God had other plans for him.

St. Ignatius of Loyola did become a soldier, but was seriously wounded. During his time of recuperation, he began studying the life of Christ and the lives of saints. This began a radical conversion for the soldier, who laid down his weapons for the cross. Eventually, St. Ignatius founded the Jesuits, an order of Catholic priests and brothers known for their intellectual endeavors and their dedication to missionary work. Pope Francis is likely the best known Jesuit in the world right now.

Another Jesuit, known for his gentle humor and popular writings is  Fr. James Martin. In his book, The Jesuit Guide to {Almost} Everything: A Spirituality for Real Life, Martin explains the manner in which Jesuits pray, known as the Examen. Jesuits pray this once or twice a day, but it’s perfectly accessible to the lay person. The manner in which Jesuits pray this is long and meditative, but Martin suggests a simpler method:

Before you begin, as in all prayer, remind yourself that you’re in God’s presence, and as God to help you with your prayer.

  1. Gratitude: Recall anything from the day for which you are especially grateful, and give thanks.
  2. Review: Recall the events of the day, from start to finish, noticing where you felt God’s presence, and where you accepted or turned away from any invitations to grow in love.
  3. Sorrow: Recall any actions for which you are sorry.
  4. Forgiveness: Ask for God’s forgiveness. Decide whether you want to reconcile with anyone  yo have hurt.
  5. Grace: Ask God for the grace you need for the next day and an ability to see God’s presence more clearly.

All of us, at some point, need some structure in our prayer life to keep us focused on God and the “bigger picture,” to guard against focusing our prayers on ourselves and not God. Perhaps you will find the structure you need in praying with St. Ignatius of Loyola and the Jesuits.

If you’d like to know more about this form of prayer, visit this website.

forgiveness
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“Forgiveness Is A Rough Thing”

Forgiveness is a rough thing. God forgives perfectly; His children do not. We hold grudges, mouth the right words, withhold our trust, and seek revenge. Of course, when we are wronged, we expect immediate forgiveness, but it’s still a rough thing.

Zookie McGee knows. He was sent to prison for nine years for a crime he did not do. And he was sent there be a dirty cop, Drew Collins. Yet, Zookie found it in himself to forgive Drew and the two are now friends. But it was a rough road.

The Detroit News told the story of “forgiveness and redemption” this week. Collins was a cop in Benton Harbor who found himself (along with his partner Bernard Hall) lured by the power, the money and he says, the attention.

The end came in 2008, when Collins’ supervisors, acting on a tip from Hall, found a cache of marijuana, cocaine and heroin in a lockbox under Collins’ desk, according to court records.

Collins confessed everything and worked with federal prosecutors to separate his good arrests from the bad ones.

When the FBI gave him a list of 200 drug-related cases and asked him to highlight the bad ones, he said it would be easier to mark the good ones because they were fewer.

“It just eroded into an all-out free-for-all,” said Collins. “I did some really stupid things.”

In a plea deal, Collins was sentenced to 37 months in a federal prison after pleading guilty to the same charge McGee had been convicted of — possession of cocaine with intent to distribute.

But what of McGee? He still sat in prison, knowing he should be free. And he was released after serving four years of his sentence, nine days after Collins was incarcerated in the same prison.

Friends said that McGee, before his arrest, was a kind and soft-spoken man. But the false arrest and his imprisonment hardened him. His anger, by his own admission, was out of control and he swore revenge on Collins.

About two years after his release, he took  his young son to a festival in a Benton Harbor park. Collins was there as a volunteer.

McGee walked up to Collins and asked if he remembered him. Collins did and the two men shook hands.

McGee gripped Collins’ hand tightly and wouldn’t let go. All the anger he felt in prison came flooding back.

“His whole countenance changed,” said Collins. “I thought, this is about to get bad.”

McGee told Collins to tell his son why McGee had been missing from his life for four years.

Collins apologized profusely but McGee didn’t want to hear it. He grabbed his son and walked away.

Yet, McGee kept seeing Collins in town. Over and over again. Both men were involved in local churches by this time, and McGee had enrolled in a job training program sponsored by the churches. He was assigned a mentor.

It was Collins. The program director was unaware of the two men’s past.

Collins, who didn’t recognize McGee, explained he had been a police officer and that, if he had ever had any dealings with McGee and mistreated him, he was sorry.

McGee said they’ve already had this talk, referring to the meeting at the park.

When McGee said who he was, Collins began apologizing, but the smiling McGee cut him off.

“That’s already forgiven,” he said. “God has that.”

When joining the program, McGee had resolved to make changes in his life.

The two men now work together and travel, sharing their story of forgiveness and redemption. Clearly, they have figured their way through the rough thing that is forgiveness.

Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful. Stop judging and you will not be judged. Stop condemning and you will not be condemned. Forgive and you will be forgiven. (Luke 6:36-37)

(Photo of Collins and McGee courtesy of Katy Batdorff/The Detroit News.)

never give in
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Families: Never Give In

In 1941, London had been under siege, seemingly standing alone against a well-armed enemy. Germany had bombed the city for months: lives were lost, buildings destroyed, morale low. England’s then-Prime Minister, Winston Churchill, spoke to the nation about these dark days:

[N]ever give in, never give in, never, never, never-in nothing, great or small, large or petty – never give in except to convictions of honour and good sense. Never yield to force; never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy.

In his apostolic exhortation, Amoris Laetitia (The Joy of Love), Pope Francis understands that the modern nuclear family – father, mother, children and extended family – is also under siege. The war we face is with a hidden enemy but one who is still very real. Parents know the struggle of protecting innocence, of standing firm in faith and morality against an increasingly hostile culture, and the necessity of creating a home life that offers respite from a harsh world.

In family life, we need to cultivate that strength of love which can help us fight every evil threatening it. Love does not yield to resentment, scorn for others or the desire to hurt or to gain some advantage. The Christian ideal, especially in families, is a love that never gives up. I am sometimes amazed to see men or women who have had to separate from their spouse for their own protection, yet, because of their enduring conjugal love, still try to help them, even by enlisting others, in their moments of illness, suffering or trial. Here too we see a love that never gives up. Para. 119

The Holy Father talks of a positive attitude that requires endurance, and a “dogged heroism” that is committed to goodness. One would be hard-pressed to find someone who disagreed with this. We all want a home that is a place of forgiveness, goodness, and love. One would also be hard-pressed to find any family who does this well, all the time.

We are human; we all struggle with sin. As much as we love our parents, our siblings, our children, our spouse, we do not always love as we should. We criticize. We speak harshly. We fail to listen. We are impatient, unkind, unforgiving: the very opposite of what we are called to be.

What to do? The Church offers us the Sacrament of Reconciliation so that we might seek forgiveness from God and gain the grace we need to do better. Making frequent use of this sacrament as a family is a tremendous gift we can give one another.

The simple act of saying, “I’m sorry” and “I forgive you” when they need to be said is indispensable. Both children and adults need to know that they can make mistakes, they can sin, and that they are still loved and lovable.

We can never give in. Evil hates love. It hates forgiveness, patience, kindness. Evil hates the dogged determination to love. While it is difficult for families to live up to this standard, we must never give in. We cannot give in to despair or fear, to hostility or harshness. We must never give in. We must love.

forgiveness
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Forgiveness: Restored In God’s Love And Mercy

Yesterday was Laetare Sunday. It marks the midpoint of Lent; the message of the liturgy is “rejoice!” (which is what laetare means.) We are so close to Easter. We are working hard to correct faults, to grow closer to God, to grow in faith, love, charity. We seek forgiveness for our sins; we yearn to know God’s love and mercy.

The Gospel for this past Sunday was one of the best known in all of Scripture: the parable of the Prodigal Son. Henri Nouwen, a Dutch priest, wrote a small book on this parable, The Return of the Prodigal Son: A Story of Homecoming. Nouwen was absolutely captivated by Rembrandt’s painting of the prodigal son, where the painter captured the moment that the prodigal son flings himself at the feet of his father, seeking forgiveness.

Nouwen says this about “forgiveness,” a theme that is an integral part of the Prodigal Son story: “One of the greatest challenges of the spiritual life is to receive God’s forgiveness.”

How can this be? Aren’t we supposed to be able to go to God and be forgiven for anything? When we leave the confessional, aren’t we supposed to feel renewed? Don’t we leave all our sins behind?

It is supposed to work that way, but it doesn’t always. Sometimes the hurts and wounds we carry from our sins and the sins of others are so deep, so frightful, so damaging, we don’t feel forgiven, nor do we want to forgive someone else. Our mind tells us one thing (“Of course you’re forgiven! You just made a good confession”) and our heart tells us another (“I still hurt. This is so painful for me.”)

We see this in the parable. The eldest son, upon learning that his father is throwing a party for the younger son, gets angry. “I’ve been here all this time, doing the right thing. I’ve been working alongside my father. I’ve been good. Why is he getting a party?? I’ve never had a party.” The older son is jealous and mad and unforgiving. He’s hurt. He doesn’t see any room for forgiveness. He doesn’t understand how the father can forgive the hurts of the past so quickly, so effortlessly.

A bit later in his book, Nouwen states, “Receiving forgiveness requires a total willingness to let God be God and do all the healing, restoring, and renewing.” Are we totally willing to let God into our damaged relationships? Are we totally willing to allow God to restore us? Are we totally willing to set aside jealousy, hurt, pain, resentment, bitterness, grudges, annoyances in order to allow God to work in our lives?

Forgiveness is radical. It requires us to be “all in,” to get out of God’s way and allow His will to be done. We can be healed, restored, renewed. But we cannot do this ourselves. Only God can. Just like the Prodigal Son, we must be willing to throw ourselves at the feet of God, and tell him, “I cannot do this on my own. I hand everything over to you. Your will be done.” Only then will God’s love and mercy heal us.

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‘Come Running Like A Prodigal’

The band Sidewalk Prophets currently has a song out called, “Prodigal.” It’s a reflection of the well-known parable of the Prodigal Son in the Gospel of Luke. The song encourages the listener to acknowledge one’s sins, and return to the arms of God the Father:

Wherever you are, whatever you did
it’s a page in your book, but it isn’t the end
your father will meet you with arms open wide
this is where your heart belongs…

Come running like a prodigal
Come running like a prodigal

There will be nights, when you hear whispers
of a life you once knew, don’t let it linger
’cause there’s a grace that falls upon you
don’t you forget….

Yesterday, Pope Francis was wrapping up his trip to Mexico. It’s no secret that Pope Francis loves to embrace the people, literally. His delight towards young people is especially evident.

In the following video, Pope Francis calls two young women with Down Syndrome from the crowd to himself. The Holy Father’s gestures – walking towards them, holding his arms out wide, his tremendous smile – all symbolize God the Father’s anxious heart when His prodigal child returns.

We are all prodigals. We all sin, running from God’s grace, straight into the arms of evil. However, we always have the choice, the ability, to turn and run right back into the arms of the Father. And He will always reach out to us, smiling, beckoning us to return to His unbelievable embrace.

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Giving Up Mercilessness for Lent

Here we are: on the cusp of Lent. Many of us are pondering what to “give up”. There are the obvious choices: sweets, a bad habit, caffeine.

We must ask ourselves, however: will this really sanctify me? This is the purpose of Lent – to bring us closer to God, to make us holier. If we give up a bad habit, only to pick it right back again at Easter, does this help sanctify us?

We know this is the Year of Mercy. Pope Francis has done us a great favor by proclaiming this year. It gives us the opportunity to study and meditate upon what may be God’s greatest attribute: his merciful love for us.

Perhaps, just perhaps, this Lent, what we are meant to give up is mercilessness. From Fr. James V. Schall, S.J.

Mercy is the forgiveness of what need not or ought not to be forgiven. Indeed, mercy follows after, not before, both forgiveness and punishment. Mercy was never designed to minimize the heinousness of sins or to eliminate their possibility. It was meant to affirm their disorder. But their disorder did not prevent God from forgetting them to allow us to begin anew. Thus, God does not just “forgive” sins because He is merciful. He forgives them in the context of our realizing and acknowledging their disorder. Mercy is designed to encourage virtue, not to undermine it…

Mercy, paradoxically, can, if we are careless, become merciless. How so? Suppose an all-merciful God forgives all sins, whether repented or not. Everybody thus saves his soul automatically. We do not have to worry about what we do. The “merciful” God has already taken care of us whatever we do. Notice: no input on our part is required. God’s merciful love is said to be unrestricted. It is not limited by the distinction of good and evil.

A child would say, “But that’s not fair!” No, it’s not. For God to forgive everything, whether or not we repented, would be unjust. And God is always just. Mercy requires justice.

Think of it this way. A criminal is brought before a judge. The judge simply says, “There is no penalty for your crime. You are free.” Where is the justice for the victim? Where is the justice for the criminal? That criminal would have no opportunity to repent, to pay for his or her crime, to make restitution.

We cannot be careless with mercy. God is not. God is always merciful, but He is also just. This Lent, spend time meditating upon mercy: mercy in your home, at your workplace, in your heart. Am I careless with mercy? Where do I lack true justice and mercy?