To ‘be right with God,’ we must show it through our actions

24th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year B) Sept. 16 (Isaiah 50:5-9; Psalm 116; James 2:14-18; Mark 8:27-35)

What sort of person allows the sort of abuse experienced by the Suffering Servant of Isaiah? People would have various interpretations: he is paralysed by fear; he is a coward; he is a masochist; he is crazy; he is a victim. When we look at the text carefully, however, we see an individual who set his face like flint (think of Jesus in Luke 9:59) rather than a passive victim. He allowed the violence against him because he knew that it was due to what he taught and stood for. It is always important to separate ego from the will of God, especially when we claim to speak on God’s behalf. He was absolutely sure of himself — not in the manner of a fanatic or megalomaniac, but one who had experienced the God of Israel and knew that God stood behind him. He knew that he would be vindicated by events that would unfold in the very near future — the release of the exiles in Babylon and their return to Jerusalem.

The prosperity gospel — the dubious gift of TV evangelists — has a long history. Some form of it was probably evident in the community to which the Letter of James was addressed. This distorted theology focuses on “what God can do for me” and does not expend time and energy meeting the needs of others. There is another version of this theology — one that is only concerned with personal salvation. As long as I am “right with Jesus” and therefore saved then the needs of others are of merely peripheral interest. Added to this is the Christian tendency to valorize suffering for its own sake — “the cross” becomes an excuse for tolerating the presence of gross inequality and injustice. James took aim at all of these tendencies with his insistence that following Jesus — being right with God — means faith plus action. Faith, as well as love, is always expressed in deeds. It is not a matter of winning God’s favour or earning one’s salvation. Simply put, faith is not genuine and complete unless it finds concrete expression.

How do we arrive at the truth about anything? This question has occupied the minds of philosophers and theologians for millennia and there is no easy answer. It does seem, however, that the truth is not necessarily found in either the academy or the marketplace. Many people are content to echo uncritically whatever they hear from politicians, the media, authority figures, communal traditions or conventional wisdom. In so many of these cases this amounts to shared ignorance. On the way to Caesarea Philippi, Jesus conducted a little opinion poll. What are people saying about me? The obvious answers came thick and fast: John the Baptist, Elijah, one of the prophets. There was no consensus except that Jesus was someone extraordinary. Peter had been uncharacteristically silent, but then he spoke up: “You are the Messiah (anointed one)!” He was not merely repeating what he had heard but had reflected on the deeds and words of Jesus and listened to the stirrings of the Spirit within him.

But acquiring a portion of the truth does not mean understanding it or that we have the bigger picture. Jesus was indeed the Messiah, the Christ, but He quickly disabused the apostles of their misconceptions of the term. Sweeping aside traditional understandings of the Messiah, Jesus insisted that His role was to suffer, die and rise from the dead. The apostles were horrified and a shaken Peter tried to talk Him out of it, offering alternative scenarios and “reasonable” arguments. Jesus raised the bar even further: anyone who wanted to be His follower could and should expect the same. Not exactly an inviting “recruiting poster,” and yet so many over the ages have chosen to follow in His footsteps.

We are probably surprised at the way in which Jesus turned on Peter in fury, calling him “Satan” or adversary. Peter was tempting Jesus, not deliberately, but by his use of conventional human values, opinions and emotional reactions. Jesus probably felt the allure of those arguments and recognized them for what they were.

The will of God or God’s ways should not be confused or identified with human motivations or desires. Our claims to truth should always be tempered with humility and openness to deepening our understanding.

Our generosity makes us more God-like

In our city, we make the most of friendly summer weather to treat ourselves to much-needed holidays — escape from the routine, time with family or friends, exploring new places, enjoying a hobby.

This August, I observed a different vacation plan. A friend spent two weeks teaching teenagers at a “youth camp with a difference” to hammer, saw, assemble, paint, create and perfect. Together they built a handsome outbuilding which will stand for years to come as a manifestation of the power of community (for more, see The Register's coverage of the camp at www.catholicregister.org). The camp gave priority to families who might have had trouble affording such an opportunity for their kids. The out-building they built contributes to the site so that next year's kids will have an even better place to stay. 

The youth, rather than being given entertainment, were asked to learn, create and contribute. And, as they were able and willing, to pray. I watched them blossom under the opportunity.

It was a good experience. How much of its goodness arose from my friend's gift of time and self? He voluntarily spent two weeks of his vacation time to lead the camp, as well as giving his expertise, enthusiasm and love of building and creating. The kids received all this, without necessarily being aware of it. It's good to be paid for our work, as St. Paul reminds us; but something irreplaceable comes through simple generosity.

Something else happens when we close in on ourselves and refuse to be generous. I've felt the pull of stinginess, self-protection, closing down, looking inward, being careful, cautious, safe. These impulses aren't in themselves negative; they can be tools that help us recognize necessity, and do what we need to do. But they can also be the other side of an invitation to generosity.

Lately, I've repeatedly heard the expression, “he can afford to be generous.” This sentence fills me with wonder: what does generosity have to do with affordability? Each has its own value, but they are quite different. Affordability is about measuring, counting and weighing — all necessary skills. Generosity has to do with an inner space and an openness to someone else's need. We must have an awareness that the world doesn't begin and end with our own stomachs, a sense that we've received and have something to give, something desirable and helpful to give. Generosity and joy are cousins. As my friend kept telling me during the youth camp, he was enjoying himself. 

Generosity can be difficult to the point of painfulness. Think of what it's like to be in a spat with your spouse or other intimate. You know you're right; you have a just complaint; what you're saying and doing is perfectly fair and reasonable. And you know that in this moment of struggle, you can speak to your spouse a word of kindness, forgiveness, mercy, tenderness — or you can withhold it. What a difference it can make, to offer or withhold such a word at such a moment. How hard it can be, to be generous in this way rather than cling to justice. 

It's astonishing that we do perform acts of generosity, given human nature and life's hardships — all of us struggling to survive, in a world that often seems harsh and unforgiving. Frequently, even. Unseen, un-repaid, unsung. The poet William Wordsworth referred to “those best portions of a good man's life: his little, nameless, unremember'd acts of kindness and of love.”  Where do they come from? How did we get that way?

In our impulse to generosity — and even more, in our acts of generosity — we discover something about ourselves. We learn that we're more than we know, more than an instinct to survive, more than our stomachs and bodies, more even than reason and justice. There's something limitless about us.

“The measure of love,” wrote St. Francis de Sales, “is to love without measure.” We're capable of loving beyond measure, beyond reason. How could we do this if we hadn't first been given it? How can we discover our generosity without discovering our likeness to One whose generosity has no limits? Still, He limits Himself to our size so that we can discover our built-in connection to Him. And so we can exceed our limits, and find we’re bigger than we dream.

“I measure and count myself, my God,” wrote the poet Rainer Maria Rilke. “But you have the right to squander me.”

This is the triumph of the cross: the lived witness of the God who squanders Himself, who abandons infinity to be affixed to a piece of wood by His own creatures. And so gives us a glimpse of the infinite power of love and generosity.

It's a power we too can wield, as my friend did in his generous self-gift for other people's children. Once we start to perceive it, we might find it's far more common than we suspect. All round us and within us. Giving us life. Helping us become better, bigger, more human, more God-like.

Feast of the Triumph of the Cross, Sept. 14.

Be not afraid

23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year B) Sept. 9 (Isaiah 35:4-7; Psalm 146; James 2:1-5; Mark 7:31-37)

Fear is probably the most destructive of all human emotions. When fear reigns, faith, hope and love are the first victims. Fear separates us from God, clouds our understanding and leads us into a riot of compensatory behaviours, most of them negative. The world in which we live today is in the grip of fear and we see the unhappy results all around us.

Time and time again in the Bible, heavenly messengers — angels, voices, prophets and Jesus Himself — exhorted human beings to put aside their fear. The messenger always reassured people of God’s continual presence and unfailing love. The passage from Isaiah was addressed to the people of Israel in the tumultuous and violent period of the sixth and seventh centuries BC. They were threatened and attacked by a succession of Assyrians and Babylonians, as well as surrounding nations like the Edomites who took advantage of the situation. Who can blame them for being afraid? It is very difficult to go on day after day with the threat of destruction continually present, and this destruction sometimes came to pass.

The rulers of Israel often dealt with the threat by resorting to international power politics and military alliances. The prophets exhorted Israel unceasingly to look upon God as their protector instead. If the nation was right with God all would be well. Being right with God meant more than what we would think of as religion — it included the application of God’s laws of justice, truth and honesty to society. The poor, weak and marginalized had to be protected and cared for. The nation had no cause to fear if this were the case — tragically, it often was not. The prophecy makes it clear that God is about life, healing, abundance and human flourishing — not punishment and destruction. Those things we bring on ourselves by poor choices and infidelity to the one who gave us life.

Before God there are no distinctions based on class, wealth, gender, ethnicity or religion. All are treated with the same compassion and care and Jesus made it clear that we are to do likewise. Because we are human this is often violated — people judge others based on appearance, influence and wealth. Christians have not been immune, for the wealthy and powerful have often wielded an excessive influence in the Church. James insists that this is not the Christian faith and we make a mockery of it when we behave in this manner. All of these signs of wealth and power can be stripped away in an instant — and often they are. In order for the Church to be an effective sign of contradiction in our world this example of equality and love without distinction must be recovered. We are who we are before God and nothing more.

The miracles performed by Jesus were always more than mere acts of compassion — they made a statement about God. There must have been many deaf and mute people in the land, so we might wonder why this man was singled out. Each miracle was a proclamation to all who witnessed the act that God’s reign had come very near. If that is the case, this miraculous healing was a bit out of the ordinary. Jesus took the man away from the others, in private, and the healing involved touching, saliva and an actual command to the afflicted part of the man. Consistent with Mark’s account, Jesus commanded the man to keep the whole matter under wraps (perhaps some reverse psychology!), which of course the man failed to do. Word quickly spread, and the astounded crowd was amazed at Jesus and the powers that He displayed, but His actions were also charged with meaning.

The prophetic tradition, especially Isaiah, portrayed the visitation of God as a time when the blind, deaf, mute and crippled would be restored by the compassionate mercy of God. The healing of this man, and so many others in the Gospel, were irrefutable signs that God had come very near indeed in the person of Jesus. God approaches an open and loving heart as well as an environment that reflects this, and when God visits wonderful things happen — new life, hope and joy. Preparing an opening for God is one of the most important things we can do to extend God’s Kingdom.

We are rewarded when our hearts are one with God

22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year B) Sept. 2 (Deuteronomy 4:1-2, 6-8; Psalm 15; James 1:17-18, 21-22, 27; Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23)

When asking the reason for a particular rule or policy, people seldom take well to the answer, “Because I say so, that’s why!” The irritation is understandable, for this is nothing more than authoritarianism — the bane of families, societies, religions and nations.

In the covenant theology of Deuteronomy divine command is certainly evident, but with a huge difference. First of all, the author celebrates the fact that the statutes, laws and ordinances are just and meaningful — so much so, in fact, that it elicits wonder and admiration from the surrounding nations. There is a reason for the laws: they establish and maintain humane and just societies where human beings can flourish and be happy. The Israelites were also free to reject the laws laid down by God. Force was not involved, but the laws were an essential expression of the covenant. The people were warned not to tinker with the commandments by adding or subtracting from its provisions. The first tendency burdens people unnecessarily and claims divine sanction for what is merely human, while the second strives to create a smooth and easy highway for human desires. Needless to say, human religious traditions — all of them — have been guilty of both tendencies.

How are we to understand law and covenant today? Both the prophets and the New Testament insist that all of the laws and statutes are concrete expressions of the love commandment. These expressions evolve and change according to time, place and culture but the prime commandment, to love God with all our heart, mind and soul and our neighbour as ourselves is always applicable and can never be set aside. When this divine command is violated or ignored, we suffer the consequences. The most important aspect of the covenant, however, is the relationship that is established between God and human beings. As a sign of loyalty and love, Israel vowed to obey the divine commandments. This same faithful love was expressed by God in the commitment to always be there for Israel in powerful and extraordinary ways. God always kept God’s part of the covenant, while Israel was often unfaithful. We have not done appreciably better — if we had, the world in which we live would be a much nicer place. A rich and rewarding relationship is only possible when our hearts are one with God.

The author of James energetically agrees. Talk is cheap; real love is always manifested in deeds. The word of God — the divine teaching — is not a creed to memorize but principles to be planted deep in our hearts and souls. True and pure religion is putting the divine teachings into practice, and this consists of caring for the poor, weak and suffering, as well as keeping oneself free of the negative aspects of human culture.

There is abundant evidence of evil, ungodliness and impurity in our world. We are all painfully aware of it and we constantly ask questions about causes, responsibilities and possible courses of action. Moralists, reformers, religious zealots and curmudgeons are quick with the answers but often lacking in compassion, reflection and insight. Stressing control and conformity in behaviour often neglects inner transformation.

Just as the kingdom of God is within us, so is the realm of darkness. Jesus zeroed in on the human heart as the source of all of the world’s negativity. Understood biblically, the heart is the deepest centre of the understanding self — a blend of intellect, feeling and spirit. Just, loving and kind behaviour is a reflection of a pure and loving heart. But when the heart is not right with God, it becomes the place where human fears, desires, hatred and lust for power dwell. Affecting a squeaky-clean moral exterior is useless in this latter case — the negativity will spill out in countless ways. If we want a pure and peaceful world then transformation must begin here.

The source of the word hypocrite used in this passage was the elaborate masks used in the Greek theatre. A hypocrite is one who wears a mask, deceiving self and others. Hypocrisy is living in a world of illusion and projecting one’s darkness on others. The solution is self-knowledge and transformation, which begins with humble reception of God’s word into the heart.

We are all called to serve

21st Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year B) Aug. 26 (Joshua 24:1-2, 15-17, 18; Psalm 34; Ephesians 4:32-5:2, 21-32; John 6:53, 60-69)

Bob Dylan’s song “Gotta Serve Somebody” would have made perfect sense in the context of Joshua’s meeting with the Israelites. They had weathered the 40 years in the desert and had just entered the Promised Land to begin their permanent sojourn. Joshua first called for a commitment on the part of the Israelites to serve the God who had brought them out of Egypt, sustained them in the desert and given them the land they were entering. He gave them a choice: serve one of the many pagan gods you will find here or the God who brought you here. Choose — and don’t say that you will serve the Lord unless you intend to do so.

The people declared enthusiastically that they would serve the Lord but their subsequent history bore sad witness to their infidelity and frequent lapses into idolatry. Joshua made no move to control them but just affirmed that he and his entire household would serve the Lord. He left them free to serve whomever they chose.

We all serve somebody, even if it is just our own ego. We make the choice every day when we are put in situations in which our principles and ideals are challenged. Many choose country, corporation, culture, different ideologies or charismatic leaders and demagogues. Some allow themselves to be led by anyone but even that is a choice. We are absolutely free but our lives will be measured in the balance by the choices we have made. We live in an age in which many have chosen to serve a variety of “gods” and many more no God at all. We should respect their choice and make the same resolution that Joshua did: I choose, along with others of like mind and heart, to serve the living God.

There is much to praise in the reading from Ephesians. The exhortation to love one another, to be tender-hearted and forgiving and to imitate God is every bit as important today, perhaps even more so. This is a way of life that never grows old and is valid in every time and place. It should be lived out in the family, at work, in the public sphere and in interpersonal relationships, and our failure to do so is responsible for much of the world’s troubles.

At the same time, the passage also reflects a bit of the cultural values of the age in which it was written. While it is important for husbands and wives to love and cherish each other, we would not hold up “subjection” as an appropriate expression of this love. Christ does not subject any person to another. We should only be subject to God.

As we have seen the last few Sundays, the teachings of Jesus concerning His body and blood were extremely difficult for many of His followers to accept. Jesus did not back down or waver, saying in effect that they hadn’t seen anything yet! He was actually going to return to His place of origin — God the Father. More shock language followed: the flesh is useless; only the spirit gives life. He was not denigrating the body or the created order but only insisting on the inability of humanity to reach or experience God without something added from the realm of the spirit.

The words spoken by Jesus are spirit and life — not the literal words but the message contained in them. These words spoke of the need for faith in Him and for reception of the gift of God’s life-giving spirit. Many of His followers chose to bail at this point — they were confused and angry. Jesus asked Peter and those closest to Him rather wearily if they were going to disappear too. Peter was a bit perplexed — he probably didn’t really understand everything that Jesus had said, but he was convinced that Jesus alone held the keys to a transcendent life with God. They knew that Jesus was the bearer of the light from God. Peter speaks for many in that he did not fully understand everything and had many questions.

It is in being faithful to the path and to the Lord that truth unfolds, hearts are transformed and minds enlightened.

Sighs too deep for words

Their parents discovered the two small girls going from house to house in their neighbourhood, up stairs to porches, down stairs to the next front door. On their knees.

The family had taken a trip to Martyrs’ Shrine at Midland, Ont.  Pilgrims there pray their way up the great staircase to the shrine, on their knees. So taken were the young sisters with this unusual experience that, back home, they instituted a prayer pilgrimage of their own.

Prayer seems to come easily to children, though the rest of us frequently report finding it difficult. As a friend said to me, “We’re trying to communicate with someone we can’t see, hear or touch.” Difficult!

James finds it so. His daughter Sara’s life-long health struggles have been hard on both, and James often feels desperate and alone. He also has a life-long habit of prayer, daily, regularly, incessantly beseeching God.

James has a habit of measuring himself. “I wonder,” he says. “Is it because I’m not praying enough that Sara isn’t getting better? Or am I praying the wrong way?” He looks for new ways to pray, asks priests and spiritual guides, and does spiritual reading. What’s he doing wrong? If he knew, he’d change it. In the meantime, he keeps praying.

Despite his worries that he doesn’t know how to pray, James has established and maintained a habit of prayer. Sometimes it gives him comfort, sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes he can connect it with change, sometimes he can’t. He’s prayed in different ways, alone, with others, at church, but he’s never stopped.

There’s no substitute for a habit of prayer. My spiritual father began each day with three hours of prayer. Naturally a nighthawk, he eventually developed the practice of retiring early so he could rise early and keep that three-hour tryst. “Don’t you ever take a day off?” people would ask; he invariably replied, “Do you ever take a day off breathing?”

You might call James a student of prayer. You might also call him an expert at prayer. He doesn’t see it that way. But mystics, theologians, teachers down through the centuries have told us in various ways what John Paul II said succinctly: “Prayer is understood through prayer.” James is in a good position to understand prayer.

In the silence of prayer, we may discover a few surprising voices within us. We may find we approach God as if He were a tyrant and we His slaves: “He’s in charge and I’m in need, so I’d better beg.” Or as though God were a vending machine for our use: “if I say nine Hail Mary’s every day for nine days, he’ll produce what I ask for.” Or we might be treating Him rather like a parking meter: “I’ll put in a rosary a day to fulfill my obligation so I can go about my business.” In such ways, we may limit or misunderstand God. That doesn’t mean we aren’t really praying, or our prayer is bad or useless. It probably means we’re growing in our relationship with God — and need to keep up the habit of prayer!

How else can we learn that God is not a tyrant, a vending machine or a parking meter, that our prayer time is a doorway to eternity, a moment of intimate presence such as all human hearts long for?

How else can we discover that God really is God — and we aren’t? Even if we should pray perfectly, we don’t replace God, much as we might wish to when He doesn’t do our will.

We need to grow in prayer. Yet there’s no way to measure it. James doesn’t pray well or pray poorly. He prays. He prays because God is seeking him. 

The prayers we say, the words, gestures, hymns, are necessary and important, but they themselves aren’t prayer. When we don’t know how to pray, St. Paul tells us, “the Spirit intercedes, with sighs too deep for words” (Romans 8:26). There’s a deep, still place, underneath it, where our heart is always simply present to God — whether or not we’re aware of it. The habit of prayer can help us bring our whole selves to this intimate place where the heart dwells with God. That’s Paradise, Adam and Eve naked and unashamed with God. That’s heaven, you and me fully alive and fully revealed in God.

Here on Earth, it’s hard to understand when prayers like James’s for his daughter don’t bring about what he hopes. And it’s awe-inspiring to see the depth of faith and love, love of Sara and abiding love of the God he can’t understand, can’t control, can’t stay away from. My hospitalized mother said to me recently, as she struggled with pain: “You can’t have prayer without love.”

If prayer helps us “abide in His love” (John 15:10), then no wonder “more things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of” (Alfred Lord Tennyson, Morte d’Arthur).

Belief in Jesus is a way of life

20th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year B) Aug. 19 (Proverbs 9:1-6; Psalm 34; Ephesians 5:15-20; John 6:51-58)

The Bible has a master metaphor for describing the blessings of God, especially those blessings that focus on sustenance, transformation and inspiration: good food and fine wine. So much for asceticism! We can only wonder if the metaphor works in an age of fast-food or food of questionable nutritional value.

These symbols represented not only the fundamentals of life but also something that would immediately pique the interest of the listener. The seven pillars of Lady Wisdom are portrayed in terms of a lavish banquet but it has a very specific guest list: only those who are simple and willing to lay aside immaturity are invited.

Simplicity is openness and a lack of arrogance and cunning. The know-it-all, the cynic, the zealot or fanatic, the ideologue and those fearful of change or newness need not apply.

Wisdom urges the prospective guest to lay aside immaturity but it is amazing how many people have failed to do that. Brilliance or competence is not necessarily linked to maturity. Living and walking in the way of insight — wisdom — is the ability to be patient, just, balanced and compassionate in a variety of situations and to be able to apply spiritual principles to everyday life. In a sense, becoming aware of how much one does not know is the first step to attaining wisdom. As Socrates said, “I know one thing — that I know nothing!” Christianity needs to become less of a religion about getting to heaven and more a path of holy wisdom in this life. Lady Wisdom’s invitation still stands — she is the personification of a divinely inspired and guided life.

The author of Ephesians was well aware of this. His advice was simple: don’t waste your lives! Time goes by so quickly and time is infinitely precious. Once spent, or wasted, it cannot be replenished. He advised his readers to make the most of their time and not squander it on foolishness. Today we might add to that list compulsive overwork and addictive behaviour.

A life of wisdom includes spending ample time cultivating healthy human relationships and virtues as well as one’s relationship with God.

Jesus continued the tradition of Wisdom — indeed, the image of Wisdom virtually merges with the portrayal of Jesus in the New Testament. Jesus offered food and drink, beginning innocuously enough with the image of bread. The image abruptly changed into something jarring and shocking — flesh and blood. We are so used to them that the shock value has worn off, but the words sounded outrageous to His listeners. They were intended to be so — it was John’s habit to use language to separate those who were spiritually astute from those who were clueless. John’s images are meant to be interpreted on a deeper spiritual level rather than a literal and superficial one.

Contrasting that which is temporary and limited with the gift of God that is eternal, Jesus offered His own divine being to all who were willing to receive it. When we eat food we assimilate it and it becomes part of who and what we are. In a similar way, Jesus must be taken in as food and assimilated, He must become part of our very physical, psychological and spiritual makeup. This can come to us through many paths: the Eucharist, prayer, meditation, spiritual study, good works and in what we say, think and do. John is quite clear throughout the Gospel: faith in Jesus is not a mere religion but a total way of life — Jesus must be taken into us with the same urgency and regularity as food, drink and breath.

Just as filling ourselves with questionable food and drink damages our health and can lead to death, so it is with many of the things we use to give us a sense of strength, security and meaning. Nothing less than the sustaining power of Jesus Christ will provide what we seek and need.

Faith brings life-giving spirit

19th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year B) Aug. 12 (1 Kings 19:4-8; Psalm 34; Ephesians 4:30-5:2; John 6:41-51)

Everyone has their limit or breaking point, and Elijah had clearly reached his. Elijah had been fleeing from the assassins sent by Ahab and Jezebel and he was convinced that his days were numbered. He was worn out, disheartened and defeated. He just wanted to end it all so he prayed for death.

Many people can probably empathize with Elijah — perhaps they have been there, maybe even more than once. Like most people, Elijah was not fully aware of just how much careful and provident care God was continually exercising on his behalf. He was never alone or without resources and neither are we. The angels provided him with food and drink sufficient for “40 days and 40 nights” — a symbolic rather than a literal number — and the remainder of his journey to the mountain of God. In this case the food and drink was literal but in many cases it consists of the strength, courage and grace to go on. As long as we rely solely on our own powers and efforts we will eventually begin to wear out. The psalm encourages us to “taste and see that the Lord is good,” something we are often reluctant to do. This is more than offering a few perfunctory prayers. It means admitting our own limits and surrendering to the higher power that is God. The tremendous grace that is offered by God can be blocked by our own stubborn efforts to remain in control and make everything happen by our own plans and efforts. God is our sustainer in more than the metaphorical or symbolic sense. God is the power that makes all things possible.

People give the Holy Spirit ample reasons to be grieved. We have been given so much and are offered even more. God’s spirit is poured into our hearts and God shares the divine life with us. And yet the gift is spurned and treated with contempt by everyday human behaviour.

Sharing in God’s life and being a temple of the Spirit requires that we imitate God. The New Testament is very clear on what divine qualities are called for: kindness, forgiveness, gentleness and compassion.

When we display malice, wrath, slander, cruelty and bitterness God is not the one whom we are imitating. The Spirit is shut out of our hearts and we become a temple only for our negative attitudes and emotions. When we fall prey to this tendency we are not walking in the ways of God regardless of how religious or pious we might consider ourselves to be. Holiness does not consist of lip service but in the continual way we respond to the needs and the challenges represented by the world and the people around us.

Imitating God is tricky business but exhilarating and transforming at the same time.

The people listening to Jesus were shocked and scandalized. How can Jesus have come down from heaven? The crowd understood the words and the symbols that Jesus used in the most literal and superficial way. This very common human weakness is evident in many of the stories in John’s Gospel. Most people did not comprehend the deeper message hidden in the words. Jesus was speaking of His divine origin and the fact that He had become flesh for the sake of humanity. Jesus went on to insist that anyone who had really been listening to God with an open mind and heart would come to faith rather than finding fault and raising objections.

Faith is a mysterious process and is not something we figure out or put together for ourselves. God is the one who draws us but it remains for us to respond and follow. Jesus pointed out that the manna in the desert was temporary.

The life that it gave was physical and short; the people who ate it eventually met ordinary human death. In His self-revelation as the living bread from heaven, Jesus identified Himself as the divine sustainer. This time the sustenance is on a much higher level, for the life that it will provide is eternal. It was through the sacrifice of His own flesh on the cross that Jesus was able to become the life-giving force for all.  This life-giving spirit is offered to us through faith.

God can be and should be trusted

18th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year B) Aug. 5 (Exodus 16:2-4, 12-15, 31; Psalm 78; Ephesians 4:17, 20-24; John 6:24-35)

Moses had a revolt on his hands. The excitement and wonder of the exodus from Egypt had already worn off. Now boredom, hunger and fear had taken hold of the people. The anguish, tears and suffering of bondage in Egypt were quickly forgotten. The only thing that they remembered was that the food had been plentiful (and the memory may have been very selective) — so why not go back into Egypt? It wasn’t that bad!

People usually disparage their present circumstances and romanticize the past or an imagined future. This was a massive failure in trust on the part of the people. God had brought them out of bondage with great signs and wonders but that was past. What about now? God came through again — this time with quail for meat and manna “from heaven.” The manna was most likely the secretion of two kinds of insects that feed on the sap of the tamarisk plant and it is rich in both sugar and pectin. That does not diminish the presence of divine care — often miracles are natural occurrences that are given precisely in the right moment and place.

The instructions that accompany the miracle (omitted) are interesting — the people were expressly forbidden to gather an abundance of manna or to hoard. This was to be an exercise in trust rather than greed or fear. God would provide just enough — not too much or too little — and the people were to be content and at peace with that. If we would learn to live by this principle the needs of all people would be met. Some of the crowd refused to heed the instructions and the hoarded manna turned putrid before their eyes, a metaphor for what happens when greed and selfishness take hold of us. The consistent lesson of the desert experience was that God could be trusted and should be. The people were not to walk in fear or succumb to negativity and anger.

The author of Ephesians had the same message in a different vein. Being a follower of Jesus does not mean business as usual and is not merely adopting a religion. It involves a “total makeover,” a shedding of all that is so typically human and yet not genuinely human: selfishness, lust, greed and negative thought patterns. Many secular ideologies have striven to create a “new man” but this is usually in pursuit of some political or economic goal. The renewal that we obtain through the spirit of Christ is a cleansing and restoration of the original spiritual image of God in which we were created. Often the only way that we begin to shed the old person is when we face challenges and struggles like the Israelites in the desert.

The crowd that witnessed the miraculous feeding was in need of a bit of renewal. Their pursuit of Jesus was not a faith quest but a desire for more signs and wonders, and maybe a bit more of the free food. They asked the age-old question: what must we do to perform the works of God? What does God want and expect from us? The reply of Jesus was disarmingly simple: just this: believe in Him whom He has sent, referring of course to Himself. Is that all? Faith in Jesus, however, is not a free pass or an occasional venture. It is nothing less than a complete surrender of all of oneself to Jesus and willingness to embark on a whole new way of life. The people demanded a sign from Jesus before making any faith commitments, and they had one in mind. Their ancestors were fed with manna in the desert — can Jesus top this? Jesus corrected their understanding: God, not Moses, was the one who fed them. Manna and other forms of earthly sustenance are fleeting and limited. It is only heavenly food that sustains without end or limit and God is prepared to grant this.

Showing the literal understanding typical of ordinary people in John’s Gospel, they were eager to have this food. Jesus then delivered the shocker: He Himself is this heavenly bread, as well as the source of living water. Only He can grant us nourishment without end, eternal life in God’s presence.

Crowds flock to New Jersey tree with a scar some claim resembles Mary

WASHINGTON - A scar on a tree on a West New York, N.J., street that some claim looks like Our Lady of Guadalupe is "a natural occurrence," said Jim Goodness, a spokesman for the Newark Archdiocese.

But he told Catholic News Service he hopes the devotion it has prompted might lead people to think more deeply about their faith. Crowds began to form at the site July 14.

News reports indicated that hundreds of people have come to the site, now dubbed the "Virgin Mary tree." Located on the corner of 60th Street and Bergenline Avenue, the tree has been taped off and is under watch by city police and volunteers.

All is possible with faith

17th Sunday of Ordinary Time (Year B) July 29 (2 Kings 4:42-44; Psalm 145; Ephesians 4:1-6; John 6:1-15)

Many people are struck by the uncanny resonances between passages in the Old and New Testaments. Indeed, some stories from the Old Testament almost seem to be cut and pasted into the New, albeit with some significant alterations. This is not coincidence but the result of two very important ancient practices.

The first was midrash — Jewish biblical exegesis — that often took the form of retelling a story in new ways in order to respond to contemporary needs and issues. Each retelling brought out deeper and more subtle aspects of biblical truth and did not eliminate or render obsolete earlier versions. There are large bodies of midrashic literature devoted to the prophets and holy people of the Old Testament.