The occasional, often ill-considered thoughts of a Roman Catholic permanent deacon who is ever grateful to God for his existence. Despite the strangeness we encounter in this life, all the suffering we witness and endure, being is good, so good I am sometimes unable to contain my joy. Deo gratias!


Although I am an ordained deacon of the Catholic Church, the opinions expressed in this blog are my personal opinions. In offering these personal opinions I am not acting as a representative of the Church or any Church organization.

Wednesday, July 29, 2020

COVID-19 Reflection 11: Giving Alms

How long has this pandemic afflicted us? It seems like forever, doesn’t it? 

But maybe that’s the wrong question. Perhaps we should be asking ourselves: How have we used the time we’ve been given? For if there’s one thing COVID-19 has given us, it’s time. And what a time it’s been! A vastly different time for most of us.

A time of uninvited change.
A time of separation from the familiar, from the predictable.
A time of loneliness; or a time to deepen friendships and family bonds.
A time of reflection; or a time of complaint.
A time of openness; or a time of closure.
A time of embraced opportunity; or a time of withdrawal.
A time of joy; or a time worry.
A time of faith; or a time of fear.
In other words, how many of us see this pandemic as something to be feared, as a life-stealing threat?
And how many see it as a gift?
I know, it’s hard to see a virus as a gift. But remember, as St. Paul reminds us, God takes everything and turns it to good for those who love Him [Rom 8:28].
This time, then, is just another manifestation of the Good News, another reason to be joyful.
Let me sum it up with a one more question: Have you and I grown in holiness? For this is what God asks of us. Did we use this time to deepen our love for God and for each other?
A few weeks ago, an acquaintance complained that his spiritual life had suffered greatly because he couldn’t take part in the usual acts of worship and charity that had filled so much of his day prior to the pandemic. “It’s all so different,” he said.
I simply reminded him that when our world changes, when everything is “so different”, our response, too, must be different.
He’s a pretty active guy, so I got the impression that his B.P. spiritual life (his before pandemic life) involved a lot of doing – doing things he believed were good Christian things to do.
Now, don’t get me wrong. Liturgical and charitable ministries are wonderful things because they’re done in response to Jesus’ command.
But so many Christians do all these good things without really thinking very deeply about them. We can get so wrapped up in our Christian work that we don’t take the time to reflect on the totality of our lives.
So certain that we are fine right where we are, we don’t ask God to show us where He wants us to be. Our prayer – when we have time for it – tends to focus on what we believe to be our needs, instead of opening our hearts to what God desires for us.
Of one thing we can be certain: God does not want any of us to remain the same. He wants everyone to grow in holiness.
When I think of the Christian life, I’m always drawn to those traditional Lenten practices: almsgiving, fasting, and prayer. In truth, though, almsgiving and fasting are just other forms of prayer.
Today I’d like to focus on almsgiving.
Gerard Manley Hopkins, the 19th Century Jesuit poet, frequently corresponded with the poet laureate of England, his friend Robert Bridges. In one of these letters, Bridges, an agnostic, asked Hopkins how he could learn to believe, expecting, I suppose, some deep theological answer. But Hopkins reply consisted of only two words: “Give alms.”
What a wonderful answer! Even though it might have been lost on Mr. Bridges. You see, in his own search for truth, a search that ultimately led him to the Catholic Church, Hopkins had learned something most people never grasp. 
He hoped to show his friend that the love of God is experienced most fully in our love for others. For it’s through loving others that we recognize and experience the source and being of all love. By loving others, we come to see the divine image in every person. By loving others, we come face to face with Jesus.
Of course, when you and I think of almsgiving, we usually think of money – you know, writing a check to Catholic Charities or Catholic Relief Services, or to a local charity like our Food Pantry or the Wildwood Soup Kitchen, and then thinking really well of ourselves.
These are all good things to do – except the thinking well of ourselves – but almsgiving means so much more than this.
The word "alms" has its roots in the Greek word meaning compassion, and "compassion" -- based on its Latin roots -- literally means "suffering with".
Now, for most of us, I don't think writing a check to Catholic Charities really involves a lot of suffering, especially suffering with someone in need. Perhaps we should expand our understanding of almsgiving to include something a bit more up close and personal. After all, it's hard to suffer with someone if you don't know who's doing the suffering. Maybe our almsgiving should include more than just giving money. Maybe it should also include giving of ourselves, more hands-on than usual.
Many of our parishioners are members of ministries that support those in need – for example, the Knights of Columbus or the Council of Catholic Women. These are wonderful ministries, but it’s also easy for members to hide behind the organization’s collective work and forget that each one of us is called to get down and dirty, so to speak, in our almsgiving, in our giving of ourselves.
Giving of oneself is the sort of giving we see at the food pantry, or the free clinic, or the soup kitchen. It's the sort of giving that takes the Blessed Sacrament to the sick and homebound, the sort that visits (or simply calls) those in the hospital or the nursing home or hospice. It's the sort of giving that takes God's love to those who are imprisoned.
It’s also the love that visits a lonely neighbor. Every neighborhood has its share of suffering souls, those who need your almsgiving, your suffering right along with them. How many of us know our neighbors well enough to be aware of their loneliness, their illnesses, their suffering? 
As I mentioned earlier, perhaps we should use this unfamiliar time to reflect on our motives. Why do I do God’s work? Simply because Jesus told me to? Or do I do it out of love? Do I give those personal alms, that compassion, because I see Jesus Christ in every person I encounter?
What have I done, what can I do now, and what will I do once our world re-opens? After all, God’s People – and they are all God’s people, rich and poor – will still have needs that call for our compassion, our suffering with them.
It all boils down to love, doesn’t it? If we answer the call to almsgiving, to compassion, simply because it makes us feel good, what profit is there in that? How did Paul put it?
If I speak in human and angelic tongues, but do not have love, I am a resounding gong or a clashing cymbal [1 Cor 13:1].
In other words, unless we act out of love, our actions mean little.
Take a few moments to read Jesus’ wonderful description of the last judgment [Mt 25:31-46] and reflect on what Our Lord is telling us about those who suffer. I read that passage at least once a week, just to remind me of how often I fail as a disciple of Jesus Christ.
How did Jesus put it? “…whatever you do for the least of my brothers, you do for me.” 
But Jesus didn’t stop there, did He? He tells us not only to give alms, but also to take it a step farther, to do what doesn’t come naturally: to give alms in secret [Mt 6:1-4]. Imagine that! Being charitable but telling no one. Taking no credit for the good we do. No bows, no bouquets, no recognition, no thanks. Why, it’s almost inhuman.
Well…actually…it is inhuman, because it’s what the Father wants, and He will repay us.
At the Wildwood Soup Kitchen, we have a guiding principle we hope will direct our ministry to those we serve. It’s really quite simple: “We don’t serve food; we serve Jesus Christ.”
This is what God wants from us, to see Jesus Christ in others and to be Jesus Christ for others. This is true discipleship.
The disciple should also be filled with joy, for discipleship is celebration, a time in which you share the joy that comes from knowing we are loved by God.
Like all holy acts, almsgiving is an opportunity for evangelization. What an opportunity to carry the Good News of Jesus Christ to those who suffer!
A simple phone call to one who is ill in body, mind, or spirit is a coming together in worship. And God wants us to celebrate when we worship. His is the Good News, not the okay or the so-so news.
This, indeed, is what the Mass is, a coming together in worship, to share not only in the remarkable gift of the Eucharist, but also in each other's joys and sorrows. It is a time of communion. (To come to a deeper understanding of this, read Pope Benedict XVI’s wonderful, little book, Called to Communion.) 
Have you ever considered that Our God is a communion, a communion of three Persons, united in a love beyond our understanding? The Blessed Trinity becomes, then, a model for us as a we struggle to respond to God’s call to communion.
Just look at the words of the Word of God. When Jesus taught His disciples to pray, He didn't begin with, My Father. He began with Our FatherAnd He didn't end by saying, "…deliver me from evil," but with, "…deliver us from evil." He didn't choose one apostle, He chose twelveAnd He didn’t send them out alone; He sent them out in pairs.
God, in His infinite wisdom, knows we need each other to accomplish His Will. We need His Love, manifested through the love we have for each other, to achieve salvation.
St. Paul recognized this. In his First Letter to the Corinthians he celebrates the many spiritual gifts that we, as Christians, receive from the Holy Spirit: wisdom, knowledge, faith, healing, works of mercy, prophecy, discernment, prayer in the Spirit…all wonderful gifts. But each person, each gift, by and of itself, needs the others to make a whole. [1 Cor 12:1-11].
And in that same letter, Paul states emphatically that the Body of Christ does not consist of one member but of many. We must all share in each other’s joys and sorrows. Sadly, not everyone understands this.
Many years ago, in another parish, I was assisting a retired bishop at Mass. He spent the summer in our town and occasionally helped the parish by celebrating Sunday Mass.
One Sunday, right after the homily, he called a couple forward to receive a blessing on their fiftieth anniversary. Everyone in the parish knew them, and so after the blessing, the bishop led us in a round of applause.
Later a parishioner approached me in the parking lot furious that we had applauded during Mass, something he considered sacrilegious. At first, I thought he was kidding, but his reaction to my little chuckle taught me otherwise. He had forgotten about the bishop and was now angry with me.
I also realized argument would be futile, so I simply said, “Read First Corinthians 12:26” and walked away. In that verse Paul simply writes:
"If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together” [1 Cor 12:26].
You know, in all the years I knew that man, I never saw him smile.
We encounter a similar situation in chapter two of John’s Gospel in which we find Jesus, accompanied by His Mother and His disciples at a wedding feast in Cana. Here Jesus joins His people in a joyful celebration of marriage between a man and a woman. But more than that, He sanctifies this marriage by performing His first public miracle – not at a time of human sorrow, but of human happiness.
John draws the picture of Jesus enjoying Himself at this celebration. Jesus chose to be there, to take part in this very human celebration, this party. It wasn’t beneath Him but was something He sought.
Our Christian faith, then, is a cause for joy, and the Christian who goes through life with a long face, spreading gloom behind him should meditate long and hard on this Gospel reading. Jesus told His disciples,
“If you love me you will keep my commandments” [Jn 14:15].
And so, if we aren’t keeping His commandments, if we aren’t loving our neighbor as ourselves, it’s apparent that we’re not loving God either. We can’t, then, grow in holiness unless we love.
In its broadest sense, almsgiving is one of the means through which we grow in holiness. Because it’s also a form of prayer, it helps us fulfill Paul’s call to “Pray without ceasing” [1 Thes 5:17] by the way we live our lives, the way we love.
Since this is supposed to be a reflection, perhaps each of us should do a little reflecting and consider how we give of ourselves to others, how we take Jesus Christ to others in need.
Who in my life is suffering from loneliness, from illness, from heartache?
Who needs to experienced God's love but has received no alms, no compassion, no suffering-with from me?



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