Catalysts

His master said to him, 'Well done, good and faithful servant; you have been faithful over a little, I will set you over much; enter into the joy of your master.' -- Matthew 25:21 (RSV)

I've long been fascinated by the hidden, largely unknown people who have served as the catalyst for someone else's conversion. People like Ponticianus, who stopped in one day to visit with his friends Augustine and Alypius. In the course of their conversation, Ponticianus told them about the Egyptian monk Antony and how two of Ponticianus' friends who stumbled upon a book about Antony were inspired to immediately leave everything behind and become monks. Ponticianus then left, unaware that he had set off an earthquake of conversion in the soul of the future Saint Augustine, an earthquake whose aftershocks are felt to this day.

In our own time, I've been thinking a lot lately about a 13-week old unborn baby who was aborted on September 26, 2009. Like millions of babies before and since, the little baby futilely fought to escape the abortionist's instrument that ultimately took its life. The baby would have just been another statistic, except for the fact that someone, horrified, was watching its life and death struggle on an ultrasound monitor. It was a moment of conversion for Abby Johnson, and her life, and the lives of thousands of others whom she has touched, will never be the same.

Thank you, little baby, for fighting the good fight in your all-too-brief life. I can easily imagine Jesus welcoming you into Heaven with the words, "Well done, good and faithful servant."

Musings on Myrrh

My lover is for me a sachet of myrrh to rest in my bosom. -- Song of Songs 1:13 (NAB)

When people speak of the wise men's gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh, I always hear them speak of the myrrh as something used for embalming, a symbol of the future suffering of the Messiah. I know that's true, but there's another use of myrrh that you rarely hear mentioned. 

In the Song of Songs, as well as the book of Esther and Psalm 45, myrrh is a sweet perfume associated with lovers, particularly when they are preparing for their wedding night. (When I've heard the embalming aspect of myrrh emphasized, I've often thought that the Bride in Song of Songs probably wasn't comparing her Beloved to a bag of formaldehyde!) Although you don't generally think of that when you hear the gifts of the wise men, it's an aspect of the multi-layered celebration of Epiphany. 

The Epiphany, or "Manifestation," of Jesus traditionally reflects three different events in His life, two of which occurred decades after the Christmas event: the Adoration of the Wise Men, His Baptism in the Jordan, and the Wedding at Cana. In the Liturgy of the Hours on Epiphany, the Antiphon for the Canticle of Zechariah during Morning Prayer beautifully ties together all three events:

"Today the Bridegroom claims his bride, the Church, since Christ has washed her sins away in Jordan's waters; the Magi hasten with their gifts to the royal wedding; and the wedding guests rejoice, for Christ has changed water into wine, alleluia."

So, in light of that antiphon, maybe it's not so far-fetched to think that the myrrh was not only a symbol of Jesus' future suffering, but also of His future wedding to His Bride, the Church, a Bride that was born from His Pierced Side on the Cross.

The hands and feet of God

"We are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us." -- 2 Corinthians 5:20 (RSV)

I was at a prayer meeting recently where I received a small card with a copy of Rembrandt's Return of the Prodigal Son. I have seen this painting many times before, but this time I was particularly struck by the gentleness and tenderness of the father in the way he gazed at and embraced his son. What went through my mind was the opening of a poem by St. Teresa of Jesus:

Christ has no body but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
Compassion on this world ...

The eagerness with which the father ran to meet his prodigal son and the compassion and mercy with which he gazed on and embraced him is the eagerness and compassion with which the Lord wants me to approach all those I encounter, especially those who are struggling and yet seeking Him.

One of those things that takes guts

"Behold, God is my salvation; I will trust, and will not be afraid; for the LORD GOD is my strength and my song, and he has become my salvation." -- Isaiah 12:2 (RSV)

Forty-three years ago tonight, I made a personal commitment of my life to the Lordship of Jesus. By the grace of God I was raised Catholic and never left the Catholic Church, but on this night at a Christian concert when I was fourteen, I made it my own.

The story actually began several months earlier when my mom and I went to see a movie at my high school. I remember nothing about the movie except that at some point the mother in the film was on a stepladder decorating a Christmas tree when she had a heart attack and pulled the tree over as she fell.

When the movie was over, someone got up front and invited people who wanted to commit their lives to Jesus to come to the front where they would take you to a room to pray with you. Cradle Catholic that I am, I had never seen anything like this before. Thinking, I suppose, that Catholics believe in Jesus so this was a Catholic thing to do, I leaned over to my mom and whispered, "Shouldn't we go forward?" She whispered back, "No, we already have a church." It wasn't really clear to me what that had to do with it, but I wasn't used to arguing with my mom, so I just said, "Oh," and stayed where I was.

I watched as two or three people got out of their seats in the semi-darkened auditorium and walked forward. As I watched them go, I thought, "Wow, that must really take guts." I was not long on guts. In fact, I was probably one of the most fearful young teens in the county, although I did my best to hide it. I'd even been in plays, but being on stage is different. It's a very controlled environment in which you're hiding behind the mask of another person, saying words that are not your own with actions and responses that are all planned out beforehand. It's very different from the real you stepping out in front of a bunch of people and taking a stand.

Fast forward to October 31, 1970. A friend had invited me to a "Scream in the Dark" haunted house, followed by a Christian concert at a high school in Homer, Michigan. It was a very popular event with busloads of kids coming in from all over the county. I wasn't really into anything horror-related, but the band had played for an assembly at my high school (yes, my public high school) earlier in the week, and I had really liked them, so I went.

The concert was almost over when one of the band members got up and started to share. I suddenly realized what was going on and thought -- and this is an exact quote -- "Uh oh. Here comes one of those things that takes guts." Only this time, I wasn't in a darkened auditorium with my mom and a bunch of strangers. I was in a brightly lit gymnasium. In front of 400 of my peers. And in order to get from my place in the bleachers to the room where they wanted us to go, I had to go up to the cross aisle, over to the side aisle, down to the floor, and walk in front of everyone to the corner of the gym that was diagonally opposite from where I was sitting.

I'm still not sure exactly how it happened. One minute I was sitting in the bleachers, glancing around, wondering if the friends I had come with were going to go. The next instant, I'd grabbed my coat and made it to the gym floor, walking as fast as I could with my head down, sure that if I caught anyone's eye, I'd lose my nerve.

I finally made it to the relative safety of the room where I couldn't be seen, although the room quickly became very crowded with other teens who had made their own version of the same journey. By now, though, I no longer cared who saw me. And after they had led us in a prayer committing our lives to Jesus as Lord and I went forward to get the New Testament that they were giving to each person, I didn't care that they could see the tears on my face. I just knew in my heart that I had done what I had wanted to do, what I had to do, despite my fears. And nothing has ever been the same since.

Kindness and truth shall meet

"John had said to Herod, 'It is not lawful for you to have your brother’s wife.' Herodias harbored a grudge against him and wanted to kill him. ... Herod feared John, knowing him to be a righteous and holy man, and kept him in custody. When he heard him speak he was very much perplexed, yet he liked to listen to him." -- Mark 6:18-20 (NAB)

Today is the feast of the Martyrdom of St. John the Baptist. As I listened to the Gospel at Mass today (Mark 6:17-29), I was struck by the fact that, although John was known primarily for his role as the precursor to the Messiah, Jesus, he wasn't ultimately killed because of his witness to Jesus. It isn't clear if Herod at the time that John was arrested even knew who Jesus was, since just a few verses earlier it says that when Herod heard of Jesus, his first reaction was that He was John the Baptist raised from the dead.

No, John the Baptist was persecuted and ultimately killed because of his courageous witness to God's truth regarding sexual morality.

In Herod and Herodias we see two different reactions to John's message, reactions that are common today. Herodias rejected his message; more than that, she resented him so much for even saying it that she wanted to kill him.

On the other hand, Herod knew that John was a righteous and holy man and liked listening to him, despite the fact that John was telling him he needed to repent. So even though John was speaking a hard word to him, he must have been doing it in such a way that Herod wasn't put off, that Herod somehow sensed that John was motivated by a selfless desire to see him made right with God, that is, by love. Perhaps John preached, as his father Zechariah had predicted at his birth, not just repentance, but forgiveness and the tender mercy of God (see Luke 1:76-79). Perhaps it was that same message of repentance combined with mercy that caused so many to come to John to be baptized as a sign of their turning away from their sin.

Dear Lord, teach us how to live holy lives and speak the truth with love as John did, knowing that some, like Herodias, will reject both the message and the messenger, but that others, even if only a few, will hear and turn to You for salvation.

The thin veil

"Then Eli'sha prayed, and said, 'O LORD, I pray thee, open his eyes that he may see.' So the LORD opened the eyes of the young man, and he saw; and behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire round about Eli'sha." -- 2 Kings 6:17 (RSV)

I've experienced another surge of deaths, the most concentrated one yet. In the last six days I've attended four funerals with another one coming next week. Three of them were women in their 90s and one was a woman who had been on dialysis for a long time. The fifth, though, was a 64-year-old man who dropped dead of an apparent heart attack, the second heart attack victim in our parish in a month. At times like this, the veil between this world and the next seems very thin.

I've reflected on the passage above before (Feb. 14, 2012) from the standpoint of spiritual warfare. But there is another aspect of it that is standing out for me right now. When the Lord opened the eyes of Elisha's servant, he saw that he was standing in the midst of a great army, an army which had been there all along.

Again, I am struck by the thought that Heaven is not far away "out there" somewhere. Rather, it is all around us. We are always walking in the presence of the Lord and all His hosts and saints, including those we know who have gone before us. Though they may be blocked from our sight most of the time, we are not blocked from theirs. They see us and, because they are members of the Body of Christ as we are, they love us and fight for us, fight with much greater power than we do, because while we are walking by faith, they are walking by sight.

Of mushrooms and men

"Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you..." -- Matthew 5:44 (RSV)

I have many concerns about the Supreme Court's decision yesterday regarding the Defense of Marriage Act. Rather than list them all here, I simply encourage you to read Justice Scalia's dissent, available at www.supremecourt.gov/opinions/12pdf/12-307_6j37.pdf. But there is one aspect of the decision that particularly disturbs me.

As both Justice Scalia and Chief Justice Roberts in his separate dissent clearly pointed out, the majority characterized those who supported DOMA -- which included President Bill Clinton, majorities of both houses of Congress and millions of Americans -- as acting out of malice. It's one thing to judge someone's actions. To judge someone's motives, however, is to assume that you have a window into that person's heart, mind and soul, a supposed view that is almost always clouded by one's own prejudices and judgments. Let me propose a story that might help clarify this point.

Suppose you were walking in the forest with a friend when you come upon a large patch of wild mushrooms. Your friend, who loves mushrooms, pounces upon them with glee and starts happily munching them and picking them to take home.

You, however, happen to know for certain that these are poisonous mushrooms. They're not poisonous in the same way that Snow White's apple was: one bite and you keel over dead. Rather their poison accumulates in the system over time, eventually leading to sickness and death.

So what would be the loving thing to do in this situation? Would you say, "Well, he doesn't know that they're poisonous, and he likes mushrooms so much, he might be really upset if I tell him, so I'll just let him be"? Of course not! The loving thing to do would be to plead with him to stop eating the mushrooms.

Hopefully your friend would trust you enough to at least pause and ask why you think they're poisonous. But what if he rejected your pleas, told you that you were crazy, or even mean-spirited, because you were trying to deny him the pleasure of eating those wild mushrooms? His negative assessment of your motives would not change the fact that you were actually motivated by a desire for his greater good, that is, by love.

Now let's take the story a little further. Let's say that your friend decides that these mushrooms are so delicious that he's going to spread the word about these great mushrooms to others. In fact, he's going to gather the spores and start raising these mushrooms so as to make them available to others. Soon he's formed an association of wild mushroom lovers who are promoting eating the mushrooms.

Now you're faced with a real dilemma. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of innocent people could start eating those mushrooms, not knowing that they're eating something that will eventually kill them. So would you just throw up your hands, saying, "I tried! It's their problem!" Or would the loving thing to do be to try to protect people from the dangers of eating those mushrooms? I think the answer is clear.

So you form an association to help educate people about the dangers of eating those mushrooms. You even try to get laws passed, making the eating of those mushrooms illegal. All this angers your former friend and his associates who accuse you of acting with malice to restrict their freedom to eat wild mushrooms. "If you don't want to eat them," they say, "then, fine! But leave us alone!"

Meanwhile, some of the wild mushroom eaters are starting to get sick and even die. But rather than consider that maybe there really is a problem with eating the mushrooms, they point to other causes. They even blame the "stress" caused by your "hate speech" toward wild mushroom eaters. They slap you with a lawsuit to get you to stop telling people that the mushrooms are poisonous and shouldn't be eaten, claiming that your hateful speech is causing them great physical and emotional suffering. You're forced to defend yourself not only in the court of law, but also in the court of public opinion, as the public sees you as a bigot acting with malice toward wild mushroom eaters, while all along, your motive was to actually save their lives, even at the cost of great suffering to yourself.

Does my story, especially the last scene, strike you as "over the top"? Then perhaps you haven't heard about the Canadian bishop who was accused of "hate speech" for a 2005 pastoral letter to his diocese on marriage. Or the youth pastor in Canada who was in legal battles for years over an op-ed piece that was published in a local paper. Or the decision by the Canadian Supreme Court last February that a man who distributed flyers regarding the Bible’s prohibitions against homosexuality was guilty of a hate crime.

I suspect that in the months and years ahead, Christians are going to have more opportunities than ever before to say with Jesus on the cross, "Father, forgive them. They don't know what they are doing."