Reflection: Divine Mercy Novena - Day 8

"Mankind will not have peace until it turns with trust to My mercy...Oh, how much I am hurt by a soul's distrust! Such a soul professes that I am Holy and Just, but does not believe that I am Mercy and does not trust in My Goodness. Even the devils glorify MY Justice but do not believe in My Goodness. My heart rejoices in this title of Mercy." - St. Faustine's Diary (350)

I’m always surprised by the amount of despair I encounter…and it seems to come from such unlikely places. 

Years ago, I worked with a bright, young man. Ambitious and competent, he’s gone on to have a distinguished business career. I remember when his father died. On the day before the funeral, I stopped by his office to express my condolences. I'll never forget his response.

"No big deal,” he said. “After all, life is just a crapshoot. That's why we've got to have as much fun as possible. Make money and have fun. Because when it's over…it's over!"

You can’t miss the despair in these words. And yet, were you to meet him, you'd think he was full of enthusiasm and joy at just being alive. But that joy and enthusiasm struggles against a dark backdrop of death and oblivion.

He's not alone. Others, including many Christians, worry about their physical health, and ignore their spiritual health. They worry about how they will spend their retirement, but not how they will spend eternity. They worry about helping their children get into good schools, but not helping them get into heaven. They focus on work, money, vacations, TV shows, food, possessions -- every created thing under the sun -- but rarely think of the Creator.

For so many the created world, the material world of the here and now, becomes an end in itself. But they're not blind. They see the world perishing, themselves aging, time unravelling. And unable to look beyond the world, they despair.

Well...so far, I suppose this hasn’t been a very cheerful reflection. But that’s about to change. For God has provided a cure and an antidote to despair. He gave us His Son. He gave us the personification of Divine Mercy.

The very fact of the Incarnation should be enough to cure anyone of despair. If we believe in Jesus’ divinity, how can we not accept the reality of God’s Mercy? Just meditate on the Cross. That’s our Creator hanging there. We see how God’s Mercy knows no bounds, so far beyond our understanding of mercy. The Father didn’t allow His Son to be sacrificed in such a horrible way for nothing.

But in addition to being the ultimate redemptive act, the Cross is also a plea from God to man. In giving us the gift of the Cross, God is saying: 

“Do you see how much I love you? Do you see the extent of My Divine Mercy? Then why don’t you trust in Me? You rejected My Son, you tortured Him, and you killed Him…and I knew that you would do this. And yet I still went ahead with my redemptive plan.”

His love for us, His gratuitous love, is so complete, we not only don’t deserve it, but also can’t even comprehend it. Grasping this do we then jump to the presumption that God’s Mercy will save everyone? No, because that’s not our decision. It’s God’s.

We must neither despair nor presume. God just wants us to trust. We cannot save ourselves, but by accepting and cooperating with God’s Grace, we can allow God to save us. Isn’t that a consoling thought?

Look at the world, at its hatreds, its violence, its sinfulness, its despair. How did Jesus put it in today’s reading from St. Faustina’s Diary?

“Mankind will not have peace until it turns in trust to My Mercy.”

Divine Mercy is the cure. Trust is our only response.

Homily: Tuesday of Holy Week

Readings: Is 49:1-6; Ps 71:1-2, 3-4a, 5ab-6ab, 15 and 17; Jn 13:21-33, 36-38

A few years ago, I read a remarkable novel by Gene Wolfe about a soldier, a mercenary who fought for the Persians during the Greek-Persian Wars in the fifth century before Christ. 

What made it so interesting is that our hero suffered a head wound that left him with almost no short-term memory. By the end of each day, he’d forgotten everything that happened the day before. And so he kept a diary on a scroll, keeping track of people, events, conversations. Each day he read the scroll, or at least parts of it.

But it really didn’t help him very much, because so much of life is defined by relationships with others. For him, all others were strangers, even those who’d normally be considered close friends. Eventually he saw his affliction as a kind of blessing, and memory as a kind of curse. Lacking memory all became new and interesting. Like a child, he appreciated the world as it unfolded before his eyes.

Anyway, I couldn’t help but think of this book as I reread John’s Gospel the other day. We’ve heard or read the Gospel story so often that the wonder of it all can be lost. Thanks to our memories, we know what will happen next, and this can cause us to ignore that which is most meaningful. This time, as I read John, I tried to read it as if for the first time, as if I were one of the disciples, living these events without the benefit of hindsight.

What struck me was how reasonable the disciples seemed in their on-again, off-again belief. Before I’d always been exasperated with them and found myself saying, “Oh, c’mon guys, how stupid can you be? Haven’t you figured out who Jesus is?” But now, I could even empathize with the Pharisees.

I found myself viewing the Gospel from a human point of view, a perspective that also caused me to see both Peter and Judas differently. Both men were put to the test, weren’t they? And both failed miserably.

Judas Departs

And yet, when we look at them, we can’t help but notice the difference. Judas deliberately betrayed his Master. We can’t fully grasp his motives, but from all indications it was a cold and calculated act. 

But Peter…Peter acted impulsively, out of human weakness and cowardice. He neither intended, nor expected to do what he did. And in a moment of weakness, Peter’s bravado crumbled. He denied His Lord with an oath and a curse.

Peter's Betrayal

Peter seems to be one of those guileless people whose words mirrored his thoughts, who always spoke with his heart, even though he would ultimately betray those words because of a weak will. Peter vows to die for Jesus. It’s a vow he will break that very night, but one he will ultimately keep, years later.

But Judas…he makes no vow that night, but in his treachery, he brings about Jesus' death, a death that redeems us. John tells us Satan entered into Judas when he rejected Jesus and departed to complete his deadly errand.

That’s what Satan can do, brothers and sisters, but only if we let him. He can twist love and turn it into hate. He can turn holiness into pride, discipline into cruelty, affection into complacency, trust into despair.

Peter, though, even in his sinfulness, rejected Satan and continued to trust in Jesus. He continued to trust in our loving, forgiving God. While Judas, in his sinfulness, fell into despair, a despair that denies forgiveness, a despair that denies love, a despair that rips any vestige of hope from the heart.

Brothers and sisters, we know we’re all sinners. We all betrayers of sorts. But I like to think you and I are more like Peter, sinners who still love the Lord, and who never forget how much He loves us, and how willing He is to forgive us, again and again.