Magnificat Reflection on Parenting: "Christ's Own Forever"

My thanks to Magnificat for allowing me to republish the following reflection, which I originally wrote for their column “She Pondered These Things in Her Heart” (January 2017).  

"Christ's Own Forever"

A beautiful thing about ritual is that the words of our rites often echo in our minds when we need them most.  Raising four children in a world of conflicting voices can be a daunting task.  When my husband and I worry about the choices our children could make and the harm that might come to them, the words that reverberate in my mind and heart come from an old baptismal rite, one I heard many times in my own youth:  You are marked as Christ’s own forever. 

Releasing our children into the hands of God is perhaps the most difficult and the most liberating thing we can ever do as parents.  We begin at their baptism by marking them as Christ’s own.  It seems so easy when they are babies dressed in pure white!  But as they grow – as they form their own ideas, opinions and lives – we realize this “release” is a process that lasts a lifetime.  It is a prolonged exercise in trust, for we must trust that if we let go – if we release the anxious grip we have on our children – that he will catch them!  He will hold them in a protective embrace that does not restrict them in the least.  He will sort out the mixed messages in their hearts and penetrate his gaze into the deepest, truest parts of their souls.  Only God can do these things.

Our children are growing up in confusing times.  But we have given them over to be Christ’s own forever.  And in that simple act, if we can really do it, we too will be free.

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Sunday's Gospel: Those Countercultural Beatitudes

The following is republished with permission from my column in Catechist Magazine.  For subscription information, visit Catechist.com.

JAN. 29 , 4th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Gospel Reading: Matt. 5:1-12a

This week we have the familiar teachings of Jesus known as the “beatitudes.” Beatitudes are blessings, and they were common expressions in Jewish writing. For example, Proverbs 8:32 reads, “Happy are they who keep my ways.” As is the case in this verse from Proverbs, the word “blessed” is sometimes translated as “happy.” The blessed one is the happy one, the one whose life is governed by God’s will and wisdom.

Having heard these verses so many times, we often forget how surprising they were and how countercultural they still are. Wouldn’t it have been more logical for Jesus to say blessed—or happy—are those who have everything they need, who have nothing to mourn, who own things, who have land? Aren’t these the people that God has blessed? Aren’t these signs of their prosperity and favor with God?

A major thrust of Jesus’ ministry was to dispel these myths about the supposed connection between worldly prosperity and God’s favor. The wealthy are not prosperous because God loves them more than he loves the poor. Those who are heartbroken have not displeased God. Those who are sick or in pain do not deserve their plight due to their own sin or the sin of their ancestors. Instead, Jesus says, God loves those who are suffering—the poor, the marginalized, those who are hurting. They are blessed— happy—because they are God’s special ones. If they turn to God in their poverty, their mourning, their lowliness, their hunger, they will be satisfied by the abundance of God himself.

As you can imagine, Jesus’ teachings not only comforted the poor and suffering, but they disturbed the wealthy and prosperous. Suddenly their complacency and self-assuredness was dislocated, thrown off balance. Jesus challenged the notion that their wealth and status were automatic signs of God’s favor. Jesus the teacher strikes again: soul-searching required all around.

NOTE: You may have noticed the letter a at the end of the biblical citation for today’s reading (Matthew 5:1-12a). The letters a and b (sometimes even c) are used to indicate the first half (a) or the second half (b) of a Scripture verse. (The letter c is used when the verse is easily divided into thirds. John 1:1 would be an example of this: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”) Matthew 5:12a indicates that in today’s Gospel reading, only the first half of verse 5:12 is included.

ASK YOURSELF: Which of the beatitudes resonates most with me right now? Why? What is Jesus promising me or asking of me?

ASK YOUR STUDENTS: Which one of the beatitudes from today’s reading is hardest to understand? Why? Which one is special to you?

PRAY: Jesus the teacher, may your ancient words fall on fresh, fertile ground and change me.

LIVE THE GOSPEL: The beatitudes challenge us to see each other differently. This week seek out someone who is suffering in some way— poor, sad, lonely, ill. Treat them with the comfort, mercy, and peace Jesus promises in the beatitudes.

Elsie Anna Wood, Illustration from The Sermon on the Mount, by Elsie Anna Wood. Courtesy Sacred Art Pilgrim.

Sunday's Gospel: What Is a Winnowing Fork?!

The following is republished with permission from my column in Catechist Magazine.  For subscription information, visit Catechist.com.

December 4, Second Sunday in Advent, Gospel Reading:  Matthew 3:1-12

“You brood of vipers!” We always know it is the Second Sunday in Advent when John the Baptist bursts onto the scene. The colorful prophet who preceded Jesus preaches and shouts from the Judean desert, and his voice rings out just as loudly and clearly for us today.

The Gospels tell us that John viewed himself as a prophetic forerunner of the Messiah. In this Sunday’s reading, after his call for repentance and his warnings to the Pharisees and Sadducees, John speaks of Jesus, though not yet by name. He refers to “the one coming after me” and describes the imminent ministry of the Messiah with strong language. The Messiah will be “mighty” and will baptize “with the Holy Spirit and fire.”

John then describes the Messiah as a discerning judge who will separate the good from the bad: “His winnowing fan is in his hand. He will clear his threshing floor and gather his wheat into his barn, but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.”

This agricultural image may be unfamiliar to modern readers. John is describing the winnowing or threshing process farmers utilized to separate husks from grains of wheat. They used winnowing fans (or forks) to toss the harvested grain into the air. The chaff (the unwanted husks) would separate from the grain and be lifted away by the breeze, while the heavier grain would settle back onto the ground. The farmer could then gather the grain and store it in his barn.

John uses this image to describe the judgment Jesus will ultimately bring. After using his winnowing fan, Jesus will “clear his threshing floor,” gathering the good grain into his barn and burning the unwanted chaff with “unquenchable fire.”

This depiction of Jesus as the one who separates good from bad, then gathers the good to himself and burns the bad, may not be our favorite image of Jesus from the Gospels. But it is one that John the Baptist and the evangelists after him wanted us to hear. We are not supposed to be afraid of Jesus or of future judgment, but we are supposed to be forewarned and aware: What we do and who we are matters to God. We cannot be with Jesus, in his warm barn full of good grain, unless we are ready.

Fortunately for us, the winnowing process has already begun. The words of Jesus and his forerunner John the Baptist have already begun threshing us, separating the worthless, husky part of us from the valuable, substantial grain.

ASK YOURSELF: How do I feel the winnowing fan of Jesus already at work in my life? Am I letting him separate the bad from the good in my heart?

ASK YOUR STUDENTS: Why do you think John the Baptist and Jesus used common images (such as the farming image John the Baptist uses in today’s reading) when they preached to the people?

PRAY: Lord Jesus, I know you will be my final judge. May you find me worthy to be gathered into your barn.

LIVE THE GOSPEL: Is there a bad habit you can “winnow” out of your life so you can be “less husk” and more “good grain”? Choose one bad habit to work on this week.

Sunday's Gospel: The Rich Man and Lazarus

The following is re-published with permission from my column in Catechist magazine:  "Lessons for the Sunday Gospels."  For subscription information, visit Catechist.com.

September 25, 2016

26th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Gospel Reading:  Luke 16:19-31

Our last Gospel reading for the month continues the trend of unique parables from Luke. We also have a continuation of the themes of repentance and the dan­gers of wealth.

A first thing to notice is that Jesus is once again speaking to the Pharisees. We may be tempted to vilify the Pharisees and see them as the archenemies of Jesus who are nothing like us. But the great error of the Pharisees is the error of us all—an inability to think outside the box of our own minds and an unwillingness to hold ourselves to the same standards to which we hold everyone else. The parables of Jesus urge his audience—including and especially the Pharisees—to reassess themselves in light of his challenging message. When we read and study the Gospels, we must understand that we are not only the disciples of Jesus; we are also the Pharisees.

It is hard to imagine a man who would daily walk past a starving man covered in sores on his door­step. Once again the master story­teller has provided us with a strong and unforgettable image to convey his equally strong and unforget­table message. The rich man was likely not guilty of evil and hatred toward Lazarus. Instead, he was guilty of the insidious condition of desensitization. Lazarus was like a fixture outside the doors of his home; the rich man had stopped seeing him, even though he was there. He went on about his com­fortable life with no regard for the suffering on his own doorstep.

This is a message we contempo­rary Christians can relate to. There is so much suffering in the world that we feel helpless to improve. But if we give up, if we give in to our own comforts and stop seeing the suffering, we fall short. Indeed, Jesus calls us to repent—change our minds, change our ways, do an “about face.” Once again, Jesus calls us to look at life with new clarity, to see the suffering even on our own doorsteps, to stop and take care of the Lazarus that we encounter.

The consequences of desensi­tization and inaction are extreme, not only in terms of judgment and eternity, but in terms of our failure to develop into the compassionate human beings God created us and Jesus calls us to be. The words of Pope Francis come to mind:

"Sometimes we are tempted to be that kind of Christian who keeps the Lord’s wounds at arm’s length. Yet Jesus wants us to touch human misery, to touch the suffering flesh of others. He hopes that we will stop looking for those personal or com­munal niches which shelter us from the maelstrom of human misfortune and instead enter into the reality of other people’s lives and know the power of tenderness. Whenever we do so, our lives become wonderfully complicated and we experience intensely what it is to be a people, to be part of a people" (Evangelii Gaud­ium, 270). 

ASK YOURSELF: What human suffering in my life has become so familiar that I tend to ignore it? How can I deliberately take time to stop, touch, and serve the Lazarus on my own doorstep?

ASK YOUR STUDENTS: Why do you think Jesus made a point to tell us that the man who ignored Lazarus was rich? Is it bad to have money and material things? What is “dan­gerous” about having these things?

PRAY: Jesus, your teachings call me to a new way of seeing the familiar world around me. Please give me clarity and energy to see and serve those who suffer.

LIVE THE GOSPEL: Pick someone you have accidentally or intention­ally ignored recently. Reconnect with them this week. 

A series of drawings of the parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus by Eugene Burnand (1850-1921).  

Eugene Burnand (1850-1921)

Eugene Burnand (1850-1921)

Ashes and The Power of Touch

I’m proud to have an article in the February issue of St. Anthony Messenger entitled “Why We Love Our Ashes.”  With permission from St. Anthony Messenger, I am including a short excerpt of the article here. 

For more information about St. Anthony Messenger magazine, a publication of Franciscan Media, please visit:  www.stanthonymessenger.org.

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The article explores why being marked with ashes is a custom that resonates so deeply with Catholics.  The excerpt below explores one of those reasons:

The power of touch.  Allowing another person to mark us with the sign of ashes is a very personal thing.  We are inviting someone else into our “personal space” and allowing him or her to mark us with a sign that makes us visibly vulnerable.  Just as when we have our feet washed or share in a sincere sign of peace, we are momentarily bonded with that person who draws near and touches us with sacred purpose. 

Although we are being marked with a sign of sin and death, the touch we receive is healing.  It is a human touch that represents the healing ministry of Christ and his Church.  Catholics are born into or later embrace this sacramental perspective.  We see and experience deeper realities in our physical world – bread and wine become the Body and Blood of Christ, water becomes a transforming wash. 

In this decidedly Catholic way of looking at things, we don’t just get a smudge of ash from a stranger and go on with our lives.  No, we stand before one who is both a fellow sinner and a mediator between human and divine realities; we allow ourselves to receive the healing touch of one who is also marked with ash, who also needs a savior, whose way of marking us somehow communicates understanding, hope and the redemption we desire.  The human touch that marks us with ashes is an experience of both human and divine love.  Who wouldn’t show up for that?

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I pray you all have a meaningful Ash Wednesday and a holy Lenten season.  As always, I thank you for letting me be part of your spiritual journey!