Refresher Course

Two weeks ago, the double snowstorm prevented us from having Mass on Ash Wednesday. It probably felt strange to begin Lent this year without that black smudge of ash on your forehead. It was strange for me to not have that same black smudge on my thumb for the three or four days afterward. For whatever reason, we Catholics love to receive ashes. It’s partly due to the fact that they are only offered once a year. But, at a deep level, I think the ashes also remind us of our own mortality, and our imperfection, and we kinda like that. When we come forward to get ashes, it is as if we are saying, “Yes, I know I am just a poor sinner,” and there is something honest and liberating about that.

Of course, ashes last only for one day. The knowledge of our mortality and the recognition of our sinfulness – the two go together – are not so easily wiped away. Yet, that is precisely what God wants. Sinful imperfection and what follows as a result, death, were not part of his original plan for humanity; they entered the world through the Fall of our first parents. And ever since, God has sought to blot them out — to find a solution to sin and death that would restore us, his beloved creatures, to the glory of friendship that we once had with him.

For the last few weeks, the first reading at Mass has told us how he enacted this plan. Last Sunday, we heard about how God formed a covenant with humanity through Noah, promising to save us from ultimate destruction. In today’s reading, we hear how he established a bond of total fidelity with Abraham, even asking him to hand over his only son Isaac, as a foreshadowing of God’s own readiness to hand over his Only-Begotten Son for our sake. Next week’s reading will tell us of the Law that God gave to the Israelites through Moses, instructing them on how to follow his commandments so as to live as his People.

All of this, of course, is a preparation for the final and full revelation of God: Jesus Christ. In Christ, the love of God for us is revealed not in signs and covenants but in a Person: in his words, actions, and every part of his life. It is especially by the end of his life that that love is fully made known: in the Lord’s crucifixion, death, and resurrection. All of the covenants and bonds God had made with humanity lead up to the New and Eternal Covenant God forged with us through the Cross, the only way to finally root out sin and death from the world. As Christians, we recognize this mystery every time we are at Mass, every time we pray to God: though sinless himself, Jesus took upon himself the weight of our sins in order to put them to death on the Cross and so make us also righteous in God’s sight. Even as we understand in faith the reason for the Cross, at a certain level it should always remain shocking to us.

Carl Heinrich Bloch, The Transfiguration of Jesus (1872)

Jesus knew the Cross would be shocking for the disciples too. Despite continually telling them that he had come in order to suffer and to die and to rise again, they didn’t get it. And so, he provided for his three closest followers, a glimpse of his true identity, the glory of his divinity, as a confirmation that the power of death – shocking though it would be when it came – would not have the final word. In the Transfiguration, we see a glimpse of the Resurrection, the eternal life that follows the Cross, the only thing that gives it meaning. It is this life, this light of glory, that has been God’s purpose all along – not only for his Son, but also for us – to wipe out sin and death, to sweep it away like ash.

I mention all of this not only to provide hopefully some insight into our readings today, but also to help us call to mind the truths of our faith that must always be held present there. The season of Lent is a kind of refresher course on salvation, about how we are to understand the mysteries of sin, death, redemption, eternal life – not merely as external ideas to be considered, but as truths that press upon our minds and hearts and reveal something critically important about us, about who we are, about what we are doing in this life, about how we are living right here and now. The truth is, like the disciples, we don’t always get it, and we need to be reminded anew of the basic realities of our faith, the fundamental proclamation of the Good News. If that’s a struggle – if it’s hard to understand how all these things I’m talking about matter for our day to day life – then perhaps we have, right there, the very purpose for our Lent, the goal toward which our prayer and reflection and good works should all be directed. Like the disciples, let’s ponder in faith the saving mysteries revealed to us, and made real for us, in the Person of Christ, who alone can take us from being poor sinners here and raise to be friends with God forever in the glory of heaven.

May this Eucharist that we will celebrate be a light to our minds, that we may behold in faith here and now the Real Presence of the Lord who was once transfigured on the mountain, raised up on the Cross, who sits now in glory at his Father’s right hand.

A Purposeful Lent

Mother Nature packed quite a punch this week, not only here in Arkansas but around the United States. I’m sure you saw some of the news stories from Texas. A lot of people are still in need there and elsewhere, and may be for some time. At times we forget how much we depend on certain modern technologies that shield us from the conditions of nature, and that when they are taken away can make life very difficult, even dangerous.

In today’s first reading, God promises to hold back the forces of nature from mankind. He makes a covenant with Noah and his children not to subject the world to another devastating flood, but rather to preserve them and all living beings from what quite literally could have destroyed them. Enduring the flood that lasted for forty days, Noah and his children proved faithful to the Lord, and through them God forged a covenant with all who would come after. Perhaps after witnessing the force of nature this week, this story resonates with us in a deeper way. In reality, though, it is meant to draw our attention to today’s Gospel. Jesus also endured a trial, a period of forty days in the desert, by which he prepared himself for his public ministry. This period of spiritual testing and temptation also foreshadows Jesus’s final trial: the suffering of his Passion. It is there, on the Cross, that he proves his fidelity to the will of his Father and takes upon himself the burden of sins for our sake. In doing so, he established a New Covenant between God and humanity, giving us salvation not from flood waters but from the devastation of eternal death.

Thomas Cole, The Subsiding of the Waters of the Deluge (1829)

Today is the First Sunday of Lent. It’s almost a year now since the world as we know it was upended by the COVID pandemic, and in many ways, it feels as if we have been enduring a long “Lent” ever since. Perhaps we feel somewhat like Noah must have felt, unsure about when this ordeal will end. Perhaps the last thing we want to do is suffer some more, to enter into another period of trial and penance. I think we can respond in one of two ways. One response is to opt out – to decide that we have already had our fill of trial and suffering, whether from the pandemic or the recent weather or whatever else. 

A better response, I think, is to imitate Jesus, and to enter into this period of forty days with purposefulness and with trust in God. Each year, Lent offers us the chance to face our own need for conversion, for spiritual renewal, and to recognize where it is that we are putting our hope not in the promise of eternal salvation but in worldly things. Maybe that is especially true this year in light of everything we face collectively. It’s worthwhile to consider whether at times we value such things – even good things, things like physical health and well-being – more than we value our spiritual well-being and hope for salvation. Don’t get me wrong: of course we should be praying for an end to this pandemic, working hard to end it, and helping alleviate the suffering of those in need. But we also can’t lose sight of the fact that the greatest threat we face is not the dangers of the natural world, but the destruction that comes from within ourselves – our sinfulness, our spiritual fickleness, our failure to trust God. We have to own up to the fact that often we are focused on earthly blessings and well-being and not the spiritual things that will last beyond this life. Lent gives us a chance to reorient those priorities – especially through prayer, fasting, and giving alms – so that we are prepared well not only for the celebration of Easter but for eternal life.

Friends, there is a lot of suffering at the moment. Rather than opt out of this season, let’s imitate Jesus and enter into this time in the desert with purpose, with trust, even with hope that our sufferings will bear fruit. In his Son, God has forged a covenant with us, a friendship, the purpose of which is not to spare us from every earthly trial but to carry us through them into eternal life. May this Eucharist strengthen our fidelity to the Lord, so that by our prayer and penance, we too may hope to share in the eternal blessings it promises.

“Go to Your Inner Room”

It feels strange to be celebrating Ash Wednesday alone, with no one in church. It would feel even stranger except that we have done this before – last spring when public Masses were suspended. This time it is not the virus that prevents us from gathering but the dangerously cold and inclement weather. I hope everyone is staying warm and safe.

My first Ash Wednesday as a priest was in 2013. It was just two days after Pope Benedict XVI announced that he was going to resign the papacy. Maybe you remember how shocking that idea was at the time, perhaps still is. He came to the conclusion that the responsibilities of the papacy had become too great for his abilities, and so he believed he would best serve God by stepping away, to spend the remainder of his life in prayer and reflection. His decision taught me something about the importance of humility as a priest – to not overestimate your own gifts and abilities. In the years since, I’ve learned more about why prayer and reflection are not just integral to the Christian life but the most important thing.

In the Gospel today, Jesus tells us that our prayer should be done “in secret,” in our “inner room,” with only our Father able to see us. While our culture seems to demand that we must always be active, always *doing* something, Jesus tells us we are obliged to slow down, be alone, and pray to God. Last spring, when we were all forced to stay at home, and could only participate in Mass by watching it online, we embraced the idea of spending more time in prayer, with God, communicating to him about what is most important. I wonder at times if we have unlearned those lessons in just a few short months, as it seems the pandemic in many ways has only added to the bustle and busyness that fills our lives.

Henri de Braekeleer, The Man in the Chair (1875)

Perhaps it is good, therefore, to begin Lent in this way. I know we would like to receive ashes; it feels strange to not begin Lent as we are used to doing. But just because we are not in church doesn’t mean we can’t enter into the spirit of the season; just because we won’t receive ashes this year doesn’t mean we can’t embrace penitence. By our prayer and reflection, by our fasting and abstinence, we can direct our minds and hearts to our heavenly Father. 

What is on your heart this Lent? What are you ready for God to do? What are you ready to do for God, with God? Think about it, and then talk about it with God. Perhaps the Lord is giving us an excellent opportunity today to shut the computer, turn off the TV, put away the phone, and go into our inner room and spend time in conversation with him. Right from home, in our inner room, let’s learn again our need for penance, for humility, for total reliance on our heavenly Father.

“And your Father who sees in secret will repay you.”

Pure as Snow

In just a few hours, wintry weather will be arriving. I hope everyone is stocked up on bread and milk ahead of the storm. We tend to get excited about snow, partly because it is so rare in this part of the country and partly because it affects travel and daily life. But we also get excited about snow because it is lovely. There’s nothing quite so beautiful and peaceful as watching a quiet snowfall covering everything in pure white. 

Loveliness, beauty, purity, peace – these are things we yearn for, things we yearn to be ourselves. Maybe we don’t think of it in those terms, but each of us wants to consider ourselves to be a good person, who has good motives, who does good things, who lives a good life, and who will be appreciated by others as good when we die. At the same time, we also recognize we are not perfect. We are sinners in need of a Redeemer – in need of the grace of the Redeemer, Jesus Christ.

In Christian history, there have been debates about how exactly we receive that grace. The Protestant firebrand Martin Luther, for example, believed that God’s grace is merely imputed to us – attributed to us, but without really becoming ours. In his thinking, God sees the merits of his Son Jesus, and then applies them to us, but only externally, forensically. God’s grace doesn’t change who we are in actuality. The image he used is that of dung covered by snow; the grace of Christ conceals our sins and failings in the sight of God, but underneath we remain wretched, like a pile of manure.

The Catholic view of grace is different, and I think we see why in the Gospel today. When the man with leprosy approaches Jesus for healing, Jesus doesn’t simply declare him to be clean; he doesn’t give just an external remedy. No, he actually changes him from within; Jesus heals him of the disease, so that he is not only declared to be clean, he actually is made clean. So too with God’s grace. When we receive it, it doesn’t just cover over our sins, like snow on top of manure, it actually transforms us – it makes us clean, removing our sins entirely, so that we ourselves become as pure as snow.

Claude Monet, The Magpie (1869)

This might seem like an abstract theological point, but I think it makes a practical difference in how we live. As I said, we are all trying to be good people, to live good lives, and yet we know that we are also sinners too. One approach to reconciling those two realities is to think God just overlooks our sinful actions, that he focuses on the good of his Son and not on the bad that we do. This is what Martin Luther believed, and what many of our Protestant friends still believe about God’s grace today. But a more profound idea, and a more Scriptural one too, is to believe that God desires to actually transform us. When we believe that – that he wants to heal us at our very core so that every sin and flaw is rooted out as completely as the man who was healed of leprosy – it changes how we ourselves approach our sins.

In just a few days, the season of Lent will be arriving again. As we prepare, we should consider: what sin or sinful trait exists in me that God wants to deal with? What is my leprosy, something that needs to be not only forgiven but completely rooted out?

• Perhaps it is the sin of gossip, the inclination to talk about others in a way that hurts their good name or violates our friendship with them. We can ask the Lord to be healed of that sin by asking to be purified of the desire to always be “in the know” or of the thrill of sharing news that is not ours to share. We can also learn not to judge others by becoming more aware of our own sins and failings, and aware of how wrong they are, and how much we must rely on God’s mercy ourselves.

• Maybe we need to be freed from something that takes away our freedom, some form of addiction. Whether it is a compulsion to pornography or to alcohol, to online shopping or to the internet and social media, God wants to heal us of what binds us and robs us of free will. A first step in combating any addiction is to realize that freedom can only come with God’s help. Thus, we have to learn to rely upon him, to build a friendship with him in prayer every day, so that we can find our joy and peace there rather than in the thing that compels us. 

• Perhaps the area of healing you need is your marriage. Today is Valentine’s Day. In addition to doing something nice for your spouse, and telling him or her that you love them, perhaps you can also ask God in prayer to reveal to you where you need to grow: “Lord, in what area am I not giving myself completely to my spouse? Where have I pulled back from the promises I made to them and to You? In what specific way are you calling me to serve my spouse, even to suffer for them, to die to myself for them out of love for You?” Maybe the area Jesus most wants to give you healing this Lent is in your marriage – to grow in that relationship, so that together you and your spouse can follow him more closely.

Friends, stay safe in the coming days, and enjoy the snow. May its beauty remind you that God wants to make you beautiful too. Whether it is in one of the areas I mentioned, or in something else, God doesn’t just want to overlook your sins or cover over them; he wants to free you from them entirely, healing you and making you truly good. May the heavenly bread of this Eucharist fill us with the newness of Christ so that in the storms of life we may be transformed into the pure vessels of his grace.