“For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.” (Luke 14:11)

These are the most difficult words in Scripture. They address the fundamental human condition—our tendency to exalt ourselves. Beginning with Adam and Eve in the garden, we have succumbed to the temptation to “be like God,” to substitute our will for God’s and to insist that we have everything under control. 

The secret to happiness lies in “letting go.” The more we cling to our way of doing things, the more we tell ourselves (and others) that we’re in charge, the more we risk being humiliated.  But if we can trust in God’s providence and not insist on doing things our way, the better chance we have of finding happiness and peace. 

Simple, but not easy. 

Death is the ultimate act of surrender. Are we handing ourselves over to the care of someone who loves us? Or passing into nothingness?

Pope Francis says:

We are all small and defenceless before the mystery of death, but what a grace if at that moment we keep in our heart the flame of faith!

Death is a great mystery. None of us knows for certain what will happen to us (if anything) after we die. We do know that death is not optional. Since we must pass from this life someday, why not trust in the love and mercy of God? Why not embrace “the flame of faith” entrusted to us by our parents and those who gave the faith to them? Why not believe that we are handing ourselves over to the care of someone who loves us rather than passing into a great void of nothingness?

Heaven is not a place. It is the state of being with God. (Hell is the opposite—being without the God of love forever.) God invites us to communion with him eternally. We have no idea what that means except that is surely beats the alternatives—separation from God or utter emptiness forever. 

So, as always, we’re invited to choose life over death. We are all small and defenseless before the mystery of death, but what a grace if at that moment we surrender with a heart full  of hope—entrusting ourselves to the boundless love and mercy of someone who knows us by name and welcomes us to our heavenly home!

What’s the difference between a saint and a sinner? The answer isn’t as simple as we think. 

There’s an old saying: Every saint has a past and every sinner has a future. That means, of course, that every saint was once a sinner and every sinner has the potential to become a saint. But even more, we can say that every saint (except the Blessed Virgin Mary) is also a sinner And every sinner possesses some degree of sanctity. 

Do you find this confusing? I’m not suggesting there’s no significant difference between saints and sinners. The difference is what’s most important. 

God knows that Paul after his conversion was a very different man than he was as Saul the persecutor of Christians. And Augustine’s famous conversion changed him from a lost soul searching without finding to a man with a mission—faith seeking understanding. Many other women and men who we now call saints were definitely traveling on the wrong road until they encountered Jesus and were set straight. 

The point is that all the saints are human. All (except Mary) sin. And all are lost, and then found, by the amazing grace of God. 

This means there’s hope for even the worst of us sinners. The Gospels are full of conversion stories—sinners who became saints (not necessarily overnight) after coming face to face with Jesus. Just a few examples: Matthew the tax collector, Mary Magdalen, the Samaritan woman at the well and Dismas, the “good thief,” who was crucified next to Jesus and was promised a place in paradise that very day!

So what’s the difference? The love of God is offered to us all equally—no matter who we are, what we’ve done or how long we’ve been “stuck in our sins.” As Pope Francis reminds us continually, God’s mercy is always there for us. If we open our minds and our hearts, God’s amazing grace can be ours—no questions asked. 

Saints are men and women who surrender and admit their need for God’s love and mercy. They are people who let go of their stubbornness and false pride. They admit their guilt, ask forgiveness and trust that Jesus will be true to his word. 

There’s hope for you and me—and every other sinner on the face of the earth. The only real difference between us and the holy women and men we call saints is that we’re not yet ready to let go of our selfishness and sin. We’re still hanging on to our old ways and our old ideas. 

Let’s pray to Mary and all the saints for the courage and wisdom to turn our lives over to God so that we can follow Jesus on the road to heaven!

Halloween is for kids. 

The stink of the world’s injustice and the world’s indifference is all around us….

This morning’s meditation in Magnificat, a monthly publication of prayers and readings, contains a quote from Dorothy Day, co-founder of the Catholic Worker Movement whose cause for sainthood has earned her the title Servant of God. “The stink of the world’s injustice” never seemed more offensive than now. “And the world’s indifference” seems to increase exponentially no matter how many horrors of all kinds we witness on a daily basis. 

Here in the United States, at least, our political leaders and the cultural and media elites who surround them seem to have perfected the fine art of indifference. They make lots of noise and engage in non-stop quarreling with each other, but they do next to nothing to eradicate the stink of injustice or to show that they really do care about the people they are supposed to serve. 

Injustice and indifference go together as the twin evils of our age. 

What can we do? Dorothy Day has the answer. It is compassion. And it is needed now more than ever. 

Compassion—it is a word meaning to suffer with. If we all carry a little of the burden, it will be lightened. If we share in the suffering of the world, then some will not have to endure so heavy an affliction. It evens out. What you do here in New York, in Harrisburg, helps those in China, India, South Africa, Europe, Russia, as well as in the oasis where you are. You may think you are alone. But we are members one of another. We are children of God together. (Dorothy Day)

“In the oasis where you are” is a phrase worthy of Pope Francis. It refers to our “comfort zones” the places where we feel safe and are most content. The choice is ours. Cling to our oasis. Or have the courage to venture out—to the peripheries where strangers dwell and where there is much danger and uncertainty. 

Let’s pray for the courage to cast off indifference and to do our part (however small) to work for justice and peace—here at home and throughout the world. 

Dorothy Day photo by Judd 

We are persons—not political, economic or social statistics. Pope Francis speaks about the foundational principle of Christianity:

In the twilight of the ancient world, as the glories of Rome fell into the ruins that still amaze us, and new peoples flooded across the borders of the Empire, one young man echoed anew the words of the Psalmist: “Who is the man that longs for life and desires to see good days?”

By asking this question in the Prologue of his Rule, Saint Benedict pointed the people of his time, and ours as well, to a view of man radically different from that of classical Greco-Roman culture, and even more from the violent outlook typical of the invading barbarians. Man is no longer simply a civis, a citizen endowed with privileges to be enjoyed at leisure; no longer a miles, a soldier serving the powers of the time; and above all, no longer a servus, a commodity bereft of freedom and destined solely for hard labour.

 

Saint Benedict was not concerned about social status, riches or power. He appealed to the nature common to every human being, who, whatever his or her condition, longs for life and desires to see good days. For Benedict, the important thing was not functions but persons. This was one of the foundational values brought by Christianity: the sense of the person created in the image of God. This principle led to the building of the monasteries, which in time would become the cradle of the human, cultural, religious and economic rebirth of the continent.