July 11, 2008
I was struck by Fr. Ralph’s homily at the
5:00 community Eucharist in the University chapel today. His insight may become a transforming moment
in my involvement with Jesus. For the
Sacrament of the Word, he chose the readings for the feast of St.
Benedict. The Gospel story revolved
around a question of Peter, “Lord, we have left all to follow you; what will we receive in return?” Ralph framed his reflections with the
suggestion that, in the very question, Peter revealed that he did not yet “get
it.” If he had left all, he would not be
wondering what there was in it for him.
In a direct and simple way, he then filled the void left by the question
with a comparison that bore witness to his years of living the gospel in the
spirit of Francis of Assisi. Francis
espoused Lady Poverty so that, having nothing, he would welcome everything as
gift.
(A comparison: A husband or wife who followed the assertion
that he or she had given up everything to enter the marriage with the question,
“What’s in it for me?” fails to understand the vows that committed them to a
marriage in Christ.)
As I so often do, I smiled throughout his
homily. My delight went beyond the fact
that he triggered exciting theological reflections in me; it was also an expression of my joy in
him. And as I commit these reflections
to writing, I realize once again how much I am indebted to Hosea’s vision of a
God who enters into a marriage union with human beings. (Hosea is the prophet whose metaphors of
intimacy are still being explored by those who embrace an incarnational
theology.) In my head and heart, Fr.
Ralph’s words echoed the passage in which Hosea countered the fears of
Israelites that God had abandoned them with the promise that God was drawing
Israel to himself through “human bonds.”
Each time I read that passage, I experience a sense of gratitude that
the intimate love among Father, Word and Spirit urged the eternal Word to
become fully human, as the only way that even God could be fully involved with
human beings.
Fr. Ralph’s words also echoed Luke’s story
of the birth of Jesus and the hymn in the Prologue in John which
celebrated the incarnation of the eternal Word.
As a living word of God, the story and the hymn present the Incarnation
as the sign and seal of the covenant between a triune God and human
beings. And this understanding of the
covenant found expression in Francis’s focus on the Crib, the Cross and the
Eucharist and on the vows of poverty, chastity and obedience. Working backwards, these vows were designed
to foster the realization among his followers that all is gift. I have long believed that intellectually, but
Fr. Ralph’s penetrating words reminded me that, before I let some people into
my life, I catch myself wondering what is in it for me.
Here, I must confess that I have never
lived the vow of poverty so rigorously that I habitually see all as gift, as
Francis did. Theologically, however, I
have long been convinced that God’s covenant with human beings voiced the
longing of each of the divine Persons for deepening involvement in the lives of
each unique individual. As such, it
could not be a contract supplemented with promised rewards and threatened
punishments. The point at issue surfaces
when I grieve over the fact that I have no wife, children and grandchildren to
share my old age with, and the issue is magnified, not erased, when friends
assure me that I have made a difference in their lives. Ralph’s words spoke to this recurring
grief. They reminded me that, from
childhood, I have longed for a deepening involvement with each of the three
divine Persons in the Triune God and with all the unique human beings I
encountered in a personal journey spanning over 77 years.
Consequently, when I revisit my life with
gratitude rather than grieving, I realize that my journey with the Father began
with an almost mystical awareness that the Creator of this vast universe was
aware of me, a lost child roaming the fields of a Nebraska farm. Over time, it evoked a longing to be involved
in intensely personal ways with everyone sent into my life by the Father’s providence. As this experience gave form and direction to
my life as a priest, I do not recall wondering “what was in it for me” in the
graced moments of my journey. But the
question was surely there, since it surfaced with a vengeance during a
devastating mid-life crisis.
At that time, I discovered that the ways
that I “lost myself” fostered a smoldering resentment, set me up for repeated
failures, and burdened me with a crippling case of “good old Catholic guilt.” Through dear friends, I became involved with
Charismatics, and this involvement taught me an invaluable lesson. I was so often jarred by the ways that they
read the Scriptures and by their frequent embrace of magical practices and
formulae to ward off the devil that, on my own, I would have dismissed them as
kooks. But through them, I encountered
the Holy Spirit in a life-giving way.
Initially, these encounters enabled me to accept the fact that I could
not be “all things to all people.” For a
time, this acceptance seemed to require that I surrender all longings because
they seemed to plunge me into excruciating painful involvements. But as I learned how to be still and listen,
I came to understand that events which triggered my inner turmoil tapped deeply
buried pain and denied crippling fears.
And this understanding denied legitimacy to a spirituality which
characterized the ways that I had lost myself as a fitting sacrifice of praise
to God.
For several years, I was unable to appreciate
the way that Jesus’ call, “Take up your daily cross and follow me,” was an
invitation to allow him to liberate me from the carefully guarded
self-sufficiency and repertoire of self-protective emotional reactions that
kept pain, fear, rage and shame so deeply buried. In some ways, I was ready to respond to the
invitation because I had heeded the Father’s call to be open to wounded
individuals whom I was tempted to avoid.
And though this may be heavy-handed commentary, I had already
experienced that there was a gift for me in these encounters, since they forced
me to acknowledge that I must passionately seek intimacy with Father, Jesus and
the Holy Spirit if I am to live my involvements with others with intellectual
honesty, personal integrity, inner peace and spontaneous joy.
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