Thursday, February 24, 2022
Stupidity Running Wild
Monday, February 21, 2022
Putin, Biden and their “Plans”
Thursday, February 17, 2022
God Turns All to Good
45 years ago, I was a Naval officer aboard a ship in the Philippines when I got the word that my mom was near death. The cancer she had battled for so long would finally take her. My commanding officer granted me emergency leave and I somehow managed to make it back to the states in near record time. The trip from halfway around the world involved a series of flights aboard several military and civilian aircraft. Arriving at Boston's Logan Airport, I was met by my dad and brother who drove me straight to the hospital in Hyannis on Cape Cod.
My first look at Mom as I entered her room told me she wouldn't be with us much longer. Her words merely confirmed this. She looked up at me and said, "Okay, Lord, now I can die."
We spent some time together in prayer but at one point she said, "Dana, I've learned that everything is a gift. Even this horrid disease is a gift because it has taught me so much."
Of course, as a 30-something Navy pilot, I didn't have a clue. How could she say that? A gift? No, this was a tragedy! Still in her sixties, she had suffered too much for far too long. I simply didn't understand what she meant and didn't try to grasp her meaning.
It took some time, actually a couple of decades, for her words to make sense to me. Sometimes that's how God works in our lives. He waits until we are properly disposed to understand His Word and then He reveals it to us in ways we can accept. In my case it came thanks to many others who, like Mom, were seriously ill and facing death. Their attitudes and words mirrored Mom's, forcing me to seek understanding.
And then, one day, I read a letter by one of my favorite writers, Flannery O'Connor. Throughout her adult life, O'Connor had suffered from Lupis, a disease that would ultimately take her at the age of 39. Referring to her illness, O'Connor wrote these words to a friend:
"I have never been anywhere but sick. In a sense sickness is a place, a very instructive place, and it's always a place where there's no company, where nobody can follow. Sickness before death is a very appropriate thing and I think those who don't have it miss one of God's mercies." [The Habit of Being, p. 163]
"...one of God's mercies." One senses that O'Connor, too, realized all is a gift for those who strive to accept God's will for them.
This morning I was reminded of this again. Listening to the news, we were told that Rush Limbaugh died a year ago today. As the news show briefly covered this anniversary of his death, they showed a video of Limbaugh, apparently just days before he died. Speaking to his nationwide audience, it seemed as if he were consoling them as he said:
"There's good in everything that happens, if you look for it."
Yes, indeed, we encounter many examples of people who came to realize and accept the goodness in so much the world considers bad. Of course, St. Paul said it best, didn't he?
"We know that all things work for good for those who love God, who are called according to His purpose" [Romans 8:28].
God's peace...
Homily: Saturday, 5th Week in Ordinary Time
Readings: 1 Kgs 12:26-32;13:33-34 • Ps 106 • Mk 8:1-10
Mark’s Gospel has often been described
as a Passion narrative with a long introduction. And that introduction moves
right along.
Mark also offers us the story of the
disciples and their often confused response to Jesus’ call. Moved by the
Spirit, the twelve attach themselves to Jesus with little understanding of His
teachings or what His call to discipleship really entails. It’s a story, then,
of spiritual growth, of gradual formation, a time when the Spirit plants seed
after seed in the hearts of these friends and followers of Jesus.
Like every seed planted by the Spirit,
these sprout and bloom according to His schedule, not ours. The Spirit can move
quickly indeed, or He can lead us to the truth over a lifetime. And it’s our
response that makes all the difference. We see signs of this in today’s Gospel
passage.
4,000 people, a huge crowd, have been
with Jesus for three days, and have eaten nothing. But we hear no complaints
from the crowd, for in their hunger for Truth they have been fed with the Word.
They seem satisfied. For them it has been three days of contemplative prayer,
for what is contemplative prayer but placing oneself in Jesus’ presence and
listening, listening to the Word so He can alter one’s very being.
It’s also a time of fasting. But in his
compassion, Jesus knows once He leaves them, their fast will end, and they will
return to the world hungry. They will need to be restored so they can carry the
Word to their homes, into their everyday lives where they can live from faith.
Jesus turns to His disciples and simply
states a truth: “They have nothing to eat.”
“How can we get bread in the desert?”
they ask.
They have not yet understood that He is
the Bread of Life, that wherever Jesus is, there is Bread. Yes, Jesus is the
Eucharist, a gift He will institute at the Last Supper – the bread, His Body –
the wine, His Blood – the gift of His Presence until the end of the age. But as
yet they don’t know this.
Have they so soon forgotten His earlier
feeding of the 5,000? Miracle upon miracle, healing upon healing, and yet they
ask: “How can we get bread in the desert?” Does Jesus answer their question?
No. Instead, He asks the disciples another. “How many loaves have you?”
This, brothers and sisters, is a moment
of grace and the loaves are its image. Grace is present because Jesus is
present. It flows outward from Him to all who are open to receive it. But grace
can never be a private possession. It must be passed on, flow from one to
another.
Yes, how many loaves do you disciples
have? How much faith do you have? Do you have enough? Are you instruments of
grace?
“Seven,” is their one-word reply. Does
it point to the Spirit’s seven gifts they will receive at Pentecost when the
full meaning of their discipleship is revealed? Perhaps so.
Jesus takes the loaves, but He takes
nothing without thanking the Father. He gives thanks for the disciples’ bread,
bread meant for them and for Him, but now destined for thousands. He breaks the
bread, as He will break Himself in the Eucharist, and hands the bread to His
disciples. They, in turn, distribute the bread; doing the miraculous, as the
Bread received from the Church carries His miraculous Presence into the world.
Here we see the Church in the process of
becoming, for the Bread it is given, the Eucharist – it, too, is blessed,
broken, and multiplied. Jesus, through the work of the Holy Spirit, offers
Himself, but His disciples carry Him into the world.
Jesus also blesses a few small fish so
the people can eat an ordinary meal, the same kind of meal the disciples would
eat with the Lord. This meal, this everyday experience, becomes for the people
an extraordinary, miraculous experience. Were those few small fish a sign, a
reminder that Simon Peter and the others must soon abandon their boats, their
nets, their lives and become fishers of men?
Did the disciples learn this day that
when they give all that they have – even if it’s only seven loaves and a few
fish – God will multiply it a thousand fold?
And what about you and me?
Can we abandon everything in our lives
that is keeping us from true discipleship?
Can we, too, hand the loaves and fish of
our lives to the Lord and let Him bless, break and multiply them – so we can
carry Him into the world?
Will you let God work His miracles in
the everyday ordinariness of your life, so you can be an instrument of His
grace?
We are all called, dear friends.