Learning from Jonah's mistakes

 

Image credit: https://www.mosaicsite.org/

Adapted from homily by Deacon Steve.

Most of us are familiar with the story of Jonah. God wants Jonah to warn the Ninevites that they have forty days to straighten out or God is going to overthrow them. After resisting God's call because he doesn't want the people of Nineveh to be shown any mercy, Jonah finally heads to Nineveh and gives them God’s message. Deep down inside Jonah can hardly wait to see what God does to the Ninevites. But, sure enough, “the people of Nineveh believed God,” and turned from their ways and put on sackcloth and fasted. They in fact change their ways and so, God relents and does not bring destruction down on them. Jonah goes away sulking and angry over God’s kindness to his enemies.

This story points out that God is not the fearful One, that we sometimes call the “Old Testament God”. The God of Jonah is in fact the God of Jesus, the God who is loving and merciful to all people. God’s mercy is not limited to one or two groups of people, but extends to all people beyond any limits we may conceive.

Jesus proclaims in our Gospel reading, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent and believe in the good news.”

In the minds of most Christians, the primary meaning of "repent" is to look back on past behavior with "sorrow, self-reproach, or contrition" for what one has done or omitted to do - sometimes with an amendment of life. However, the English word “repent” is used to translate the Greek word “Metanoia”. Scholars believe the translation of metanoia as repentance is "an extraordinary mistranslation". In fact, translators only use it because there is no English word that can adequately convey the meaning of the Greek word.

The real meaning of metanoia is not about a superficial change of mind. Rather it involves a complete transformation of consciousness, a change in the trend and action of our whole inner nature, including intellectual, affectional and moral. It is an overwhelming change of mind, heart and life. And this, we know, is only brought about by allowing the grace of God and the Spirit of God to open our hearts and minds.

In a writing from one of the Church Fathers called “On Spiritual Perfection” the author writes, “Anyone who loves God in the depths of their heart has already been loved by God. In fact, the measure of a person’s love for God depends on how deeply aware they are of God’s love for them... When this awareness is keen it makes whoever possesses it long to be enlightened by the divine light, and this longing is so intense that it seems to penetrate their very bones. The person loses all consciousness of themselves and they are entirely transformed by the love of God.”

Thus our 'metanoia' occurs only through the grace of God, by our constantly and gradually becoming aware of God’s love for us. Our gospel writer is trying to tell us, in the stories of the apostles as they were called by Jesus, that in encountering the Lord, the apostles were entirely transformed by the love of God, by Christ. And so they lose “consciousness of themselves” and “immediately” follow Christ. The immediacy of the conversion of the apostles in our story, is meant to dramatize the effect of God’s love in our lives, when we are truly open to it.

Our world today, as we no doubt are aware, is in need of this transformation. The world needs to see followers of Christ who are truly transformed by the love of God. For us to be that transformative presence to our brothers and sisters it is important for us to grow and experience the love of God in our hearts. A love that is always offered to us by God’s grace. Not only in our private and liturgical prayer. More importantly, we can experience that love of God as we learn to contemplate each person we encounter, especially those people who suffer in poverty, addiction, imprisonment, illness, loneliness and dying.

Let us remember that our Eucharist celebrates the love of God for every person in the world. It is a reminder to us to not only contemplate the divine, the mystery in this sacrament, but to also go out and contemplate the divine and the mystery of God in every person we encounter, but especially those who suffer. 

Who is Jesus, and what does it mean to follow him?

A priest friend sent me this reflection on this Sunday's readings (24th Sunday) by Christina Zaker, Director of Field Education at the Catholic Theological Union. Most homilies that I have heard on these readings over the years focus largely on the Gospel, "Who do you say that I am?" What I like about this particular reflection is how it uses the the first two readings to help us answer the challenging question of Jesus not just with our heads and hearts but with our lives.

Timothy Schmalz: When I was Hungry

Who is Jesus, and what does it mean to follow him?

Reading 1: Isaiah: 50: 5-9
Responsorial Psalm: Psalm: 146:6-7, 8-9, 9-10
Reading 2: James 2: 14-18
Gospel: Mark: 8:27-35

Today’s readings focus our attention on the very heart of Mark’s Gospel: Who is this man Jesus, and what does it mean to follow him? The question “Who do you say that I am?” that Jesus poses to Peter and his disciples is one we all must answer with our lives. How do we understand this person Jesus and his ministry, and how does this understanding shape the way we live our lives in response?

The first and second readings offer clues to what it means to follow him. In the second reading, the letter of James, we are implored to back up our faith with good works. If our faith only lives on our lips but is not reflected on and lived out in the work that we do or the way we build relationships with others, then our faith “is dead.”

The first reading points to the possibility of persecution for our faith. A living faith makes us have “ears that can hear” our God. When our actions reflect our hearing, we might suffer as a result. To have the courage to act authentically on our faith, means to disrupt the norms and challenge the status quo; to lean into discomfort for the sake of others. It is not always easy to live out our faith. However, Isaiah reminds us to set our “face like flint” and not sway from the path of our God. We will not be shamed if our heart is following God.

With these readings today, we are faced not only with the question Jesus asks, “Who do you say that I am?” but also the reality that to know him and follow his footsteps means being willing to follow him in his suffering on the cross. It is this reality that makes Peter scoff. He believes in Jesus as the Messiah, but he is not yet willing to accept that the path leads through persecution and suffering. In turn, Jesus’ rebuke of Peter is startling, but one we should each note. We may think we know Jesus, but we need to truly reflect on the times in our own lives where our apathy or fear have held us back from the work to be done. When our comfortable lives have led us to hesitate, to think “Do I really want to get that involved in dismantling racism or anti-Semitism when it doesn’t really affect me?” or “Do I want to change my habits to act for climate change when I’d rather just do my thing?…”  When we hesitate to act, thinking we don’t really need to live our faith that way, those are the times we need to hear Jesus’ rebuke and reorient to his way.

Being a people of faith...

Read the rest of Christina Zaker's reflection following this link.
https://learn.ctu.edu/twenty-fourth-sunday-of-ordinary-time-2/

Power made perfect in infirmity - a reflection

Suspended over the abyss

“…Easter is the mystery of our redemption. We who have died and risen with Christ are no longer sinners. Sin is dead in us. The Law has no further hold on us.

And yet this is not as simple as it sounds. Our new life in Christ is not a permanent and guaranteed possession, handed over to our control, a “property” which we now definitively have. We are still suspended over the abyss, and we can still fall back into that awful dread of the alienated person who has lost trust. But the fact remains that if we consent to it, grace and trust are renewed from moment to moment in our lives. They are not a permanent possession but an ever present gift of God’s love. For this liberty to continue, we must really believe in the power of God to sanctify us and keep us saints. 

We must dare to be saints by the power of God. We must dare to have a holy respect and reverence for ourselves, as we are redeemed and sanctified by the blood of Christ. We must have the courage to grasp the great power that has been given to us, at the same time realizing that this power is always made perfect in infirmity, and that it is not a “possession.”

Merton, Thomas, “Seasons of Celebration: Meditations on the Cycle of Liturgical Feasts”, Ave Maria Press, Notre Dame, Indiana, p 120 – 121

Reading selected by Deacon Steve Pitre

Giving in helpless passivity - Conference Reading

 

For almost all of his public life Jesus was actively doing something. 

However, from the moment he walks out of the Last Supper room and begins to pray in Gethsemane, all that activity stops. He is no longer the one who is doing things for others, but the one who is having things done to him. In the garden they arrest him, bind his hands, lead him to the high priest, then take him to Pilate. He is beaten, humiliated, stripped of his clothes and eventually nailed to a cross where he dies. This constitutes his “passion,” that time in his life where he ceases to be the doer and becomes the one who has things done to him.

What is so remarkable about this is that our faith teaches us that we are saved more through Jesus’s passion (his death and suffering) than through all of his activity and preaching and doing miracles.

There is a great lesson in this, not the least of which is how we view the terminally ill, the severely handicapped, and the sick. There’s a lesson too on how we might understand ourselves when we are ill, helpless, and in need of care from others.

The cross teaches us that we, like Jesus, give as much to others in our passivities as in our activities. When we are no longer in charge…humiliated, suffering, and unable even to make ourselves understood by our loved ones-then we are undergoing our own passion and, like Jesus in his passion, have in that opportunity to give our love and ourselves to others in a very deep way.

Rolheiser, Ron OMI, “The Passion and the Cross,” 2015, Franciscan Media, Cincinnati, p. 2 -3

Reading chosen by Deacon Steve

Image credit
Author: Nata Silina
http://www.supercoloring.com/coloring-pages/eleventh-station-jesus-is-nailed-to-the-cross

The Paradox of the Cross

Spiritual Reading, Monday September 14, 2020

Deacon Steve took our spiritual reading last Monday from “The Passion and the Cross”, a book by Ron Rolheiser.

“A man, a God, hangs naked, exposed vulnerable, defenseless, silent, with his arms stretched wide, open for an embrace, and with his hands also stretched open with nails driven through them. Yet strangely, in all that, we don’t see bitterness, defeat and anger. Paradoxically, we see their opposite. This is what real trust, love, and metanoia (un-paranoia) look like.

And I say “look like” because we don’t understand this- we see it. We don’t understand intellectually how giving oneself over in betrayal teaches trust, nor how vulnerability and powerlessness are the real powers that bring about intimacy. But we see this when we look at the cross of Jesus. It is no wonder that so many people - millions, literally – wear a cross as a symbol of love, trust and hope. Unconsciously, they know, however dimly, what theology can never quite make clear to us: namely, that what divides us from each other can only be bridged by the cross of Christ, and that our hope for intimacy and community is not in ourselves but in an embrace that is beyond us. In a cross this is not understood, it’s seen- mystically, not rationally.”

Rolheiser, Ron, “The Passion and the Cross”, Franciscan Media, Cincinnati, 2015, p. 74

Resurrection, Not Resuscitation

Following is an extract from a reflection on last Sunday's readings by Stephen Bevans, SVD and
Louis J. Luzbetak, SVD of the Catholic Theological Union. The Gospel was Matthew 14:13-21, the feeding of the multitude.

It is the generous extravagance and abundance of “the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord” that we need to keep in mind in this trying, difficult, almost unbearable time in our lives. We are in that “deserted place” and it is “already late.” If you are like me, it’s not just the COVID-19 pandemic that is terrifying — and that is terrifying enough. It is the racism and hatred that has revealed itself, the shocking individualism that is prolonging the agony of these months, the painful call (for some of us — liberating for others!) to revise our history and our heroes, the dangerous disregard for science and real wisdom that is harming an entire generation. It is the disregard for human lives, especially Black lives today, that is making us pant with thirst. It is a refusal to see the harm we are causing to our planet, and to future generations of plants and animals and human children, that is making us faint with hunger. We desperately need the love of God in Jesus to feed us with hope, with compassion, with patience, with perseverance.

Why does God Let this Happen?

Dorothy Day in 1934

Why does God Let this Happen?

(Covid 19 Reflection #5)

This reflection, written by Denise Bondy, Chair of the ONRC Spirituality Committee, is curated from the SSVP Ontario member site "Spirituality Corner"
 https://members.ssvp.on.ca/en/thoughts.php

God looked at everything he had made, and he found it very good.
(Genesis 1:31)

The poor you will always have with you.
(Matthew 26: 11)

As I write this, some of Ontario is in Stage 3 of the covid 19 re-opening plan while the rest of us remain in Stage 2. It’s becoming a long, long summer.