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.

Showing posts with label St. Faustina. Show all posts
Showing posts with label St. Faustina. Show all posts

Thursday, April 13, 2023

Reflection: Divine Mercy Novena - Day 6

Once, when I saw Jesus in the form of a small child, I asked, 'Jesus, why do you now take on the form of a child when You commune with me? In spite of this, I still see in You the infinite God, my Lord and Creator.' Jesus replied that until I learned simplicity and humility, He would commune with me as a little child" (St. Faustine's Diary, 335).

Many years ago, Fr. Adam Domanski, a Polish priest and friend, gave me a copy of St. Faustina’s Diary. I’ll confess, I didn’t read it right away, but when I finally got around to opening the book, I could hardly put it down.
And when I read those words you just heard, I thought immediately of St. Therese, the Little Flower. For she, like St. Faustina, came to understand the necessity of approaching our God with the humility and innocence of a small child. Indeed, as St. Therese wrote:

 “…I am too small to climb the rough stairway of perfection…then… I read these words coming from the mouth of Eternal Wisdom: ‘Whoever is a little one, let him come to me.’ And so I succeeded. I felt I had found what I was looking for… for this I had no need to grow up, but rather I had to remain little and become this more and more.”

Such an attitude, of course, goes against everything the world tells us. Can anything be more countercultural? To try to remain childlike…but not childish. For as our Lord taught St. Faustina, to be childlike is to embrace simplicity and humility.

So often you and I try to complicate our relationship with God when all He wants from us is our love. To love God is to embrace the simple truth of the Gospel. It’s not complicated. You don’t have to be a theologian; in fact, that’s probably an obstacle.

Realize, too, that humility is simply the byproduct of reality. As St. Faustina reminds us, our God is “the infinite God, my Lord and Creator.” Knowing this, accepting it, believing it can do nothing but drive us to humility.

These two holy women, then, have taught us so much about becoming a spiritual child. We must learn and accept our total dependence on our God, so we can lead a life of trust and abandonment. We need to let God carry us to holiness. As Saint Therese confessed:
"What pleases Him is seeing me loving my littleness and poverty, the blind hope that I have in His mercy."
Childlike trust is possible only by God's merciful love towards all sinners. His mercy is bigger than any sins we may have committed. Let us always try to approach God with love, and with confidence in His mercy. To live in simplicity and humility is to rid ourselves of all that draws us away from God. When we've sinned, we must throw ourselves, like a child, into the arms of God's mercy. That's the beauty of the sacrament of reconciliation. God always waits for us with open arms.

Anxiety comes from worry, worry about that over which we have little or no control. Don’t worry about the past or the future. Live in the present moment as a child does. Interestingly, the older I get, the more I come to accept this. Children and saints seem to find lots of joy by living in the here and now. Let's join them, forgetting the sins of the past, and trusting that God will take care of our future.

Wednesday, April 20, 2022

Reflection: Divine Mercy Novena - Day 6

 At this time of year, our parish prays the Divine Mercy Novena, led by our deacons and ably aided by our wonderful musicians. I was asked to lead Day 6 and Day 9, and so today I led the first of these. I usually begin with a brief reflection on some aspect of Divine Mercy as revealed to us in St. Faustina's Diary. Here's the text of my reflection:

________________________

Welcome to day 6 of our Divine Mercy Novena.

A few weeks ago, a parishioner came up to me after Mass. He'd just seen an announcement about this Divine Mercy Novena and remarked that Divine Mercy didn't seem to mix well with pandemics and wars.

As you might expect, I vehemently disagreed and suggested that God's mercy and our extension of it was exactly what our world needed. I realize it's been a difficult few years and we're all in a bit of a funk, and not just because of masks, vaccinations, testing, family separation, and all the rest. Far more painful has been the loss of many friends and loved ones. I know I miss them all and the older I get the more frequent these losses. But we take hope in the promise that, soon enough, we'll be with them again.  Yes, indeed, life and death continue, as does God’s love for His people. This, too, sometimes escapes us when we’re affected by grief.

Now, in the midst of the Easter season, we are also reminded of God’s great gift to the world: His Divine Mercy. The other day, reading a few pages of St. Faustina’s Diary, I came across these words of Jesus:

“You are to show mercy to your neighbors always and everywhere. You must not shrink from this or try to absolve yourself from it" [Diary, 742].

Meditating on this command from Jesus, I couldn't help but recollect all those times when I have been less than merciful, those times when I looked the other way rather than confronting another's need head-on. Sadly, there were far too many instances, too many to count.

There's nothing new about this command; indeed, if it were new, we would have every right to suspect the validity of the visions and private revelations experienced by St. Faustina. True private revelation can do nothing but confirm and reinforce divine revelation as found in sacred scripture and apostolic tradition.

And, of course, this same plea to mercy is stated explicitly in the Gospel:

"Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy" [Mt 5:7].

When Matthew describes Jesus’ depiction of the final judgment, we will all experience [Mt 25:31-46], we encounter a judgment focused on the mercy we have extended to each other. As I reflected on Jesus' command, and on my own failure to obey it fully, I realized how grateful I am that we have a merciful God, who willingly forgives and forgets the sins of the repentant.

In other words, our personal failure to extend mercy to others can be overcome by God's infinite mercy when we come to Him in true repentance and a willingness to change, to undergo conversion. Without this gift of mercy and forgiveness none of us would be saved.

Today, as we pray together at the foot of the Cross, when we look up at our crucified Lord, do we tear open our very being? Listen to the prophet Joel, who revealed God’s will:

“Rend your hearts, not your garments, and return to the Lord, your God, for He is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love, and relenting in punishment.” [Joel 2:13]

Do we rend our hearts exposing all to God’s merciful gaze?

Do we come to Him, ready to die to self and sin?

Praying the chaplet on this 6th day of our novena, can we abandon ourselves to His Divine Mercy?

Joyce Kilmer, the Catholic poet, another of my favorites, was struck down by a sniper's bullet during World War One. But in the midst of his wartime experience, surrounded by the destruction and devastation and death in the trenches, he wrote a little poem called "Thanksgiving." 

     The roar of the world in my ears.
     Thank God for the roar of the world!
     Thank God for the mighty tide of fears
     Against me always hurled!

     Thank God for the bitter and ceaseless strife,
     And the sting of His chastening rod!
     Thank God for the stress and the pain of life,
     And Oh, thank God for God!

Brothers and sisters, that's exactly what we must do: just thank God for everything.

Thank God for the joys and the pains of our lives.

How did St. Paul put it?

"We know that all things work for good for those who love God, who are called according to His purpose" [Rom 8:28].

It’s all a gift, even when it's beyond our understanding.

Yes, thank God for His mercy which makes life itself livable. 

 

Thursday, October 1, 2020

COVID-19 Bible Study Reflection #17: Faith, Doubt, Fear and Divine Mercy

Today, I hope to address the gift of faith, while touching on the doubts and fears that attack those who do not fully accept this gift from God. That’s right, brothers and sisters, faith is a gift – as the theologian would say, a gratuitous gift. You and I neither deserve it, nor can we work to achieve it. It’s not something we can conjure up on our own. Instead it’s something God offers us in the divine hope that we will accept it.

I’ll begin today by turning to the Gospel according to John, where the evangelist recounts the first post-Resurrection appearance of Jesus to the disciples. Listen to God’s Word and read these verses from John, chapter 20, verses 19 to 31:

On the evening of that first day of the week, when the doors were locked, where the disciples were, for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood in their midst and said to them, “Peace be with you.” When he had said this, he showed them his hands and his side. The disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” And when he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the holy Spirit. Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them, and whose sins you retain are retained.”

Thomas, called Didymus, one of the Twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So, the other disciples said to him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my finger into the nail marks and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.” Now a week later his disciples were again inside, and Thomas was with them. Jesus came, although the doors were locked, and stood in their midst and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands, and bring your hand and put it into my side, and do not be unbelieving, but believe.” Thomas answered and said to him, “My Lord and my God!” Jesus said to him, “Have you come to believe because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed.”

Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples that are not written in this book. But these are written that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through this belief you may have life in his name. [John 20:19-31]

It’s really a remarkable passage, isn’t it? In fact, there’s so much there, I suppose we could spend the rest of our lives plumbing its depths. But today all we can do is scratch the surface, and hope that by doing so, we can deepen our faith, cast aside the doubts, and relieve the fears.

Our Gospel passage relates an event that takes place in the evening of that first Easter Sunday, when the Risen Jesus appears to the Apostles in the upper room.

They’d hidden there since Friday’s crucifixion. Told of the empty tomb by Mary Magdalene, Peter and John had gone to see for themselves. John claims he “saw and believed,” but followed this by admitting he and Peter really didn’t understand the Resurrection …at least not yet.

Then Mary told them of her personal encounter with the Risen Lord; but did they really believe her? We know they doubted, and we know, too, they were afraid. Indeed, fear kept them hidden behind the locked doors of the upper room. One suspects their faith was weak, plagued by those same doubts and fears.

But then, despite locked doors, despite doubts and fears, Jesus is there, standing in their midst. He is alive! And he speaks to them:

“Peace be with you” [Jn 20:19].

He shows them the marks, the nail marks, the gash in his side, the wounds He suffered for their salvation and the salvation of the world. And, yes, they rejoice in His presence, even though they don’t yet understand how this all came to be.

Again, he greets them,

“Peace be with you,” but then He adds, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you” [Jn 20:21].

His words, though, are a mystery. Sent? Sent where? Sent when? Sent to do what? They don’t know. All that will come later.

But Jesus isn’t quite finished with them this evening. He has more to do and to say.

He breathes on them, and they feel it, the breath of His mouth, coming from His Risen Body. Yes, He is certainly alive, for dead men don’t breathe. And as He breathed, He says,

“Receive the holy Spirit. Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them, and whose sins you retain are retained” [Jn 20:22-23].

Once more, they’re lost in His words. Did He just say we’ll be forgiving sins? How does that work? All this sending out and forgiving of sins…for now it remains a mystery. And so, in joy they focus only on what they can see, the living, Risen Jesus. And with that He leaves them, just as He had arrived.

It seems, however, one Apostle, Thomas, wasn’t there. Where was he? We don’t know. John never tells us. But just imagine how Thomas felt when the others told him,

“We have seen the Lord” [Jn 20:25].

Did he simply disbelieve what they told him? Or was he angry with Jesus for coming when he wasn’t there? Perhaps he wondered why Jesus came when he, and only he was absent. We don’t know because John doesn’t tell us that either. All he tells us is what Thomas said:

“Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my finger into the nail marks and put my hand into his side, I will not believe” [Jn 20:25].

With these words, Thomas secures the title we hear so often: doubting Thomas. His words, after all, were hard words from a man who had spent three years with Jesus. For three years Thomas had witnessed the miracles, had seen hundreds healed of every illness, had even seen the dead brought back to life. Yes, for three years Thomas had been in the presence of “the Christ, the Son of the living God” [Mt 16:16]. But Jesus gives him another week to think about it. For Thomas, it must have been a long week. What did he do as he waited? John, of course, tells us nothing, but we can guess.

Once again, it’s Sunday, the Lord’s Day of the New Covenant, the Second Sunday of Easter, the day we celebrate as Divine Mercy Sunday. The Apostles are still locked in the upper room, still afraid, and likely still troubled by doubts. But this time all eleven are there. Thomas is with them.

Once again, Jesus stands in their midst, and once again, He says,

“Peace be with you” [Jn 20:26].

But then He turns to Thomas and says,

“Put your finger here and see my hands and bring your hand and put it into my side, and do not be unbelieving, but believe” [Jn 20:27].

Does Thomas reach out and touch those wounds? John doesn’t tell us, but I don’t believe he did. For there was no need. He can see the wounds with his eyes. And he can feel the shame, the guilt, overflowing in his heart. Like the women who ran from the empty tomb the week before, Thomas, too, was surely “fearful yet overjoyed” [Mt 28:8]. But in the face of Our Lord, Thomas sees only love, forgiveness, and divine mercy.

He answers with five words, making a perfect act of faith:

“My Lord and my God!” [Jn 20:28]

Yes, doubting Thomas is now believing Thomas, the apostle who later died a martyr for the faith he expressed that Second Sunday of Easter. He became a messenger, an Apostle of Mercy, a missionary to India where he shed his blood for his Lord and his God. Like his brother Apostles, like you and I, like all the baptized, Thomas was sent.

John uses this encounter between Apostle and Lord to break open in the Gospel account the implications of the bodily Resurrection of Jesus, a profoundly important aspect of our Christian faith. Jesus, who stands before the Apostles, is no ghost, no ethereal apparition [Lk 24:37]. The Risen Jesus is the Living Jesus. His body bears His wounds. He speaks. He breathes. He lets Himself be touched [Lk 24:39]. He eats with them [Lk 24:43] He is alive, glorified, but alive.

These first two meetings between Jesus and the Apostles are actually deeply Eucharistic. Jesus comes to them, Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity, in communion, and they receive Him in a shared communion with each other. It’s a renewal of the communion of the Last Supper, celebrated here in that same upper room, the first Christian Church, on the Lord’s Day.

And today, millions of us all around the world, utter those same faith-filled words of Thomas when faced with Jesus’ Eucharistic Real Presence at the elevation during Mass: “My Lord and my God!” [Jn 20:28].

Pope St Gregory the Great (590-604), preached a marvelous homily on this encounter between Thomas and the Risen Lord. He tells us it’s good to remember that there are no coincidences with God. It was not by chance that Thomas was absent on that first Sunday. He returned, he heard, he doubted, Jesus returned, Thomas saw, even touched, and he believed. All happened according to God’s plan. The wound of Thomas’ disbelief was healed by the wounds of Our Lord’s Living, Risen Body. Thomas, then, becomes the witness to the reality of the Resurrection.

Before He leaves the Apostles on this Second Sunday, Jesus leaves Thomas with a kind reminder of his doubts, but then addresses you and me:

“Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed.”

That’s us, brothers and sisters. We’re the non-seers who believe. As such we are called to bring the risen Christ to others. Like the Apostles, we are invited to become living witnesses in our own day to the reality of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ.

On that first Divine Mercy Sunday, Thomas confronted the wounds of his beloved Savior so they could heal the wounds of our own disbelief. Let us then approach the throne of Mercy and cry out with Thomas:

"My Lord and My God" [Jn 20:28].

Those who do will be forever changed, just as the Apostles were changed. But the Resurrection was so utterly miraculous that even after being with the risen Jesus, many disciples still harbored doubts. As Matthew described their last meeting with Jesus right before His Ascension:

"The eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had ordered them. When they saw Him, they worshipped, but they doubted" [Mt 28:16-17].

“…they doubted.” It would take the Holy Spirit to cure them of their doubts, which He did 10 days later on that first Pentecost Sunday. And what a difference He made.

Just consider Peter, who became a messenger of mercy. He was so filled with the Spirit of the Risen Lord that Jesus could continue His redemptive mission through him, accomplishing miraculous deeds. In the Acts of the Apostles we read that even the shadow of Peter brought merciful healing [Acts 5:15].

John, the “beloved disciple” and evangelist, was imprisoned on the Island of Patmos. There he would continue to receive the consoling and liberating mercy of the Savior. There the Spirit inspired him to write these words of the vision he had received:

“Do not be afraid. I am the first and the last, the one who lives. Once I was dead, but now I am alive forever and ever. I hold the keys to death and the netherworld” [Rev 1:17-18].

And then there was Thomas. Jesus turned Thomas’ doubt into an event of Mercy for generations to come. Out of the repentance born from seeing Mercy Incarnate and the wounds of His Divine love, came that response, those wonderful words that have formed the most profound of personal prayers for centuries: “My Lord and My God”

Pope St Gregory was so right, “Thomas’ doubt healed the wounds of all of our doubts”

At the Liturgy of Canonization for Sister Mary Faustina Kowalski, on Sunday, April 30, 2000, the Pope St. John Paul II proclaimed:

“…Jesus shows his hands and his side. He points, that is, to the wounds of the Passion, especially the wound in his heart, the source from which flows the great wave of mercy poured out on humanity. From that heart Sister Faustina Kowalska, the blessed whom from now on we will call a saint, will see two rays of light shining from that heart and illuminating the world: ‘The two rays,’ Jesus himself explained to her one day, ‘represent blood and water’ …Divine Mercy reaches human beings through the heart of Christ crucified.”

Contemplating Jesus’ sufferings, you and I, then, are faced with a question. How do we take Christ’s Divine Mercy to others? How do we respond to the sufferings of our neighbors? Do their sufferings fill our hearts as well. For that’s what compassion truly means: to “suffer with.” As St. Faustina wrote, “I would like all their sorrows to fall upon me, in order to relieve my neighbor."

God places each of us, each uniquely created individual, in a certain time, in a certain place, and with certain gifts, and does so for a certain reason. We cannot choose our time and place, only what we do with the time given to us. But of one thing we can be certain: each of us is called to be a messenger of His Divine Mercy, an instrument of the peace of Christ in our own little corner of the world.

Jesus also told St. Faustina that, “Humanity will not find peace until it turns trustfully to Divine Mercy."


Saturday, April 25, 2020

COVID-19 Bible Study Reflection #4: Divine Mercy

Originally written on April 21, the following is the fourth of my weekly COVID-19 updates sent out to the participants in our parish's Bible Study program. 

The other day I was asked to transform these updates into talks and make video recordings of each. Yesterday, with the help of our wonderful A/V folks, we recorded all four. I expect they will soon be posted on the parish website. I'm not certain, but I believe they will be posted individually, perhaps one per week over a series of weeks. I'll post the details here on this blog once I have them.

____________________


As we make our way through this challenging time, it’s easy to become focused solely on the pandemic. All those news conferences, the steady stream of statistics, the hourly statements of physicians, researchers, politicians, and media “experts” have left us numb. Shut up in our homes, inundated by all this virus information, we can forget that life and death, beyond the virus, continue. Let me explain. 

So far, and this will likely change, I have lost no relatives or close friends as a result of this virus. This is not to belittle the many lives that have been lost, or the many others who have become seriously ill. It is simply a fact. 

But in the past few weeks, I have lost several friends whose deaths were completely unrelated to the coronavirus. One succumbed after a long battle with cancer, another died as a result of a massive stroke, and a third from the effects of MS.

David Lyons, Jr.
But then, just yesterday, I read of the murder of a young man, David Lyons, a senior at South Sumter High School. He was gunned down in broad daylight in the streets of Wildwood, just a few blocks from the Wildwood Soup Kitchen where Diane and I have volunteered for 16 years.

It was there, in the soup kitchen, where we met first David a few years ago. He came to volunteer for a while and joined our Thursday team doing whatever was asked of him. A bright and likeable young man, we all thought the world of him. His loss has affected us deeply. We pray for his soul, for his family, and trust that those responsible for his death will be brought to justice.

Yes, indeed, life and death continue, as does God’s love for His people. This, too, sometimes escapes us when we are surrounded by so much tragedy. But now, in the midst of the Easter season, we are also reminded of God’s great gift to the world: His Divine Mercy. 

On April 19, the Second Sunday of Easter, we celebrated Divine Mercy Sunday, and I know many of you have been praying the Divine Mercy chaplet daily. This is a good thing to do, and I encourage you to continue. The other day, reading a few pages of St. Faustina’s Diary, I came across these words of Jesus:
“You are to show mercy to your neighbors always and everywhere. You must not shrink from this or try to absolve yourself from it" [Diary, 742].
Meditating on this command from Jesus, I couldn't help but recollect all those times when I have been less than merciful, those times when I looked the other way rather than confronting another's need head-on. Sadly, there were far too many instances, too many to count.

There's nothing new about this command; indeed, if it were new, we would have every right to suspect the validity of the visions and private revelations experienced by St. Faustina. True private revelation can do nothing but confirm and reinforce divine revelation as found in sacred scripture and apostolic tradition. And, of course, this same plea to mercy is stated explicitly in the Gospel: 

"Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy" [Mt 5:7].

We encounter this in greater detail when Jesus depicts the final judgment we will all experience [See Mt 25:31-46], a judgment focused on the mercy we have extended to each other.

As I reflected on Jesus' command, and on my own failure to obey it fully, I came to realize how grateful I am that we have a merciful, forgiving God, one who willingly forgives and forgets the sins of the repentant. In other words, our personal failure to extend mercy to others can be overcome by God's infinite mercy when we come to Him in true repentance. Without this gift of mercy and forgiveness none of us would be saved.

Whenever I become discouraged by my own failures, I turn to the Bible where we encounter not only the sins of those especially chosen by God, but also God’s mercy and forgiveness. Indeed, it’s the very humanity of those described in the Bible that convinces us of the truth of what we read. 

The lives of the patriarchs revealed in Genesis, for example, are what separate the Old Testament from the historical and spiritual writings of other ancient peoples. In the writings of other cultures, the failures and sinfulness of their human leaders rarely arise. According to most chronicles, the ancient kings and pharaohs, the priests and sages, were all near-perfect beings. They won every battle, they were always wise and just, and their children were perfect mirror images of themselves.

Among the ancients the only place we'll ever encounter two sons like Jacob and Esau is exactly where we find them, in the Bible: one, along with their mother, conniving and deceitful, and the other arrogant and foolish. And yet Jacob, with all his blemishes and sins, is one of the great patriarchs of our Judeo-Christian tradition.

Perhaps Jacob’s sons offer us one of the best examples of sinfulness in need of mercy and forgiveness, when out of envy they plan the murder of their brother, Joseph, and eventually sell him into slavery [Gen 37]. 
Joseph Sold into Slavery by His Brothers
We encounter this again and again. Consider David, the great king who also happened to be an adulterer and murderer [2 Sam 11]. David’s son, King Solomon, who neglected God's gift of wisdom, became enamored of foreign women (quite a few of them, actually), and turned to idolatry [1 Kgs 11]. And remarkably, these two kings, perhaps along with Hezekiah, Josiah, and a few others, were probably the best of the bunch.

So…What are we to think?

Well, in truth, we should thank God for the gift of the flawed men and women who fill the pages of God's Word; for what a gift they are to us! In these broken, oh-so-human lives we come face to face with God's enduring forgiveness. We come face to face with God's mercy.

If you worry about your family being mildly dysfunctional, just take a closer look at Abraham's, or Isaac's, or Jacob's. Despite all their problems, all their sinfulness, God's mercy just overflows into their lives. And God wants to shower you and those you love with that same outpouring of mercy.

Brothers and sisters, without God's mercy, we would be - what's the best word? ...We would be doomed! 

Without God's mercy our sins would overwhelm us. 

Without God's mercy, there would be no Incarnation, no redemptive sacrifice on the Cross, no Resurrection to offer us the hope of eternal life. 

Without God's mercy there is no salvation; for the Incarnation is the supreme act of mercy, the supreme act of our merciful, loving God.

He becomes one of us, He lives with us, He teaches us, He forgives us, He heals us, He loves us, and He suffers and dies for us. He does all of this for our salvation. He does all of this so we can be healed. That's right. Without God's mercy there can be no healing. And we are all, every single one of us, in need of healing, aren't we?

What about you? 

Are you in pain, physical pain, the kind that can scream at you, causing you to question God's love?

Do you suffer from illness, one of those devastating, fear-laden illnesses that makes prayer so very hard?

Have you been attacked by depression, or another spirit-draining affliction that seems to attack your very humanity?

Perhaps you are faced with a combination of many things, some little, some not so little, that overwhelm you and your ability to deal with them?

Or maybe you are simply afraid, afraid of the future, afraid of the unknown, afraid of death, and need the consolation of the gift of faith.

What kind of healing do you seek?

But what about the healing you actually need?

When we place ourselves at the foot of the Cross, when we look up at our crucified Lord, do we tear open our very being, do we rend our hearts exposing all to His merciful gaze? Do we come to Him, ready to die to self and sin? Looking at Him, do we find ourselves completely overwhelmed by this incomprehensible act of divine merciful love?

You see, brothers and sisters, I don't know the fulness of God’s plan for me, and I certainly don’t know God's plan for you...and neither do you. But I do know what He wants of both you and me.

He wants you, He wants me, He wants every single one of us to come to Him, to abandon ourselves to Him, to allow His will to move within our lives. 

But it's never easy to set aside our own willfulness and abandon ourselves to God's will. When our wills dominate, we end up broken; and yet it's through that brokenness that God call to us. This is another of the paradoxes surrounding God’s love. God knows when our need for His mercy, for His healing touch, is greatest.

At some point, though, we will all be broken physically, broken beyond repair. As St. Paul reminds us, our mortal bodies are just temporary dwellings:


“For we know that if our earthly dwelling, a tent, should be destroyed, we have a building from God, a dwelling not made with hands, eternal in heaven. For in this tent we groan, longing to be further clothed with our heavenly habitation” [2 Cor 5 :1-2].
But, in the meantime, struggling through the trials of this life, we can easily slide into a kind of despair, thinking we're not deserving of God's mercy. We become like Peter who, when he suddenly comprehended the gulf between his sinfulness and God's greatness, could only say:
"Depart from me, O Lord, for I am a sinful man" [Lk 5:8].
But Jesus didn't depart, did He? In fact, it was then, at that very moment, that Jesus called Peter and the others to be Apostles, to be sent into the world, to be fishers of men.

So many, fully aware of their sinfulness, came to Jesus seeking healing; and there were others, sinful and repentant, whom Jesus actually seemed to seek out. 

Consider, for example, the woman caught in adultery whom Jesus saved from the mob of scribes and Pharisees that had planned to stone her to death. Once Jesus had turned the mob away, He said little to the woman. Their conversation was brief:
Then Jesus straightened up and said to her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?” She replied, “No one, sir.” Then Jesus said, “Neither do I condemn you. Go, and do not sin again.” [Jn 8:10-11]
Knowing her heart, Jesus sees both her repentance and her thankfulness, and so extends His forgiveness, His mercy. On her part, she is called to change her life by following His command: “…do not sin again.”
Neither do I condemn you...
Here we see Jesus fulfilling the Law through the application of Divine Mercy. The disciples come to understand what Jesus meant when he began His ministry with the words:

“This is the time of fulfillment. The kingdom of God is at hand. Repent, and believe in the gospel” [Mk 1:15].
I’ve always liked that seemingly odd Gospel passage from Matthew when the disciples of John the Baptist question Jesus about fasting. It’s a brief passage:
Then the disciples of John approached him and said, “Why do we and the Pharisees fast, but your disciples do not fast?” Jesus answered them, “Can the wedding guests mourn as long as the bridegroom is with them? The days will come when the bridegroom is taken away from them, and then they will fast. No one patches an old cloak with a piece of unshrunken cloth, for its fullness pulls away from the cloak and the tear gets worse. People do not put new wine into old wineskins. Otherwise the skins burst, the wine spills out, and the skins are ruined. Rather, they pour new wine into fresh wineskins, and both are preserved” [Mt 9:14-17].
It’s an interesting passage, isn’t it? It’s really not so much about fasting as it is about the New Covenant that Jesus makes with us, “the time of fulfillment.” This New Covenant is not simply a patchwork on the old covenant; it's not old wine poured into old wineskins.

No, Jesus offers us to something wonderfully new, and He demands something new from us. He calls us to “repent” of our sinfulness, to “Go, and do not sin again.”

But there is more, much more. This newness is also the Gospel, the command to love God and to love each other as we love ourselves. That's right, brothers and sisters, we're to look beyond ourselves, to die to self and sin and live for the other. And we're to do all this even in the midst of hurt and grief and illness and pain, even in the midst of a pandemic that has turned our world upside-down.

Just as He called Peter and the Apostles, Jesus calls us in our brokenness. He calls us when illness and fear seem to overwhelm us. And He calls us in our sinfulness when our flaws are most apparent. It's then that our need for His mercy is greatest.

Flannery O'Connor
Among my favorite writers is Flannery O'Connor, who wrote so many wonderful stories of sinfulness and repentance, of forgiveness and mercy, and of redemption. A Georgia girl, she died in her late thirties due to complications resulting from lupus. It was a battle that lasted her entire adult life. While in the midst of all her suffering, she wrote some remarkable words in a letter 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].
Have you ever thought of the afflictions of your life, of your need for healing, as a mercy? I know I never had. With the exception of appendicitis at the age of ten, my only serious illness was in my infancy, so I it’s hard for me to comprehend fully what Flannery O'Connor meant by those words. 


But our Lord certainly understands, for He reminds us always that fear has no place in the Christian's heart. And so, again, when we suffer, when we turn to God in prayer, what are we to do?

Joyce Kilmer
I really believe the first thing we should do is thank Him. 

Joyce Kilmer, the Catholic poet, and another of my favorites, was struck down by a sniper's bullet during World War One. But in the midst of his wartime experience, in the midst of the destruction and devastation and death in the trenches, he wrote a little poem called "Thanksgiving." 

     The roar of the world in my ears.
     Thank God for the roar of the world!
     Thank God for the mighty tide of fears
     Against me always hurled!


     Thank God for the bitter and ceaseless strife,
     And the sting of His chastening rod!
     Thank God for the stress and the pain of life,
     And Oh, thank God for God!


Brothers and sisters, that's exactly what we must do: just thank God for everything. 

Thank God for the joys and the pains of our lives. They are all gifts, even when they are beyond our understanding. 

Thank God for His Divine Mercy, for without it we would have no hope.

Yes, thank God for life itself. 

Then, today and every day, we can let Him focus on the healing. After all, He's pretty good at it.