Your Paper-Thin Wings

At Saturday’s retreat on prayer, my retreatants and I reflected on how we are made for prayer. We are human; we are free; we are made for relationships. Prayer is our relationship with God. God is not “up there” while we are “down here.” Rather, God is with us, and he desires intimacy with us. Although prayer is indisputably challenging, we were made for it. It was meant to be.

To illustrate this point, I shared something I recently heard on a Radiolab podcast (with four kids in four schools this year, I do a lot of driving and a lot of podcasting!). Radiolab was investigating how a caterpillar becomes a butterfly. Do you know how a caterpillar becomes a butterfly?

A caterpillar does not simply grow wings inside its chrysalis. No, first the caterpillar dissolves into a goop. That’s right, goop. If you cut open a chrysalis during this stage, goop spills out! Somehow that goop becomes a butterfly.

But where do the wings come from?

As it turns out, the wings are already formed inside the caterpillar. Careful dissection of a prepupal caterpillar reveals paper-thin, transparent wings, tiny antennae and even legs! The structures of “butterfly-ness” exist just below the caterpillar's outer skin, waiting for transformation.

We were made for prayer, friends. The wings are already there, paper-thin, transparent, and a bit pent up. With God’s help, we can stretch out and fly.

I hope you will enjoy this Radiolab broadcast:  “Goo and You.”

"Life history of the silk moth (Bombyx mori). A, caterpillar; B, pupa; C, imago; the cocoon is cut open to show the pupa lying within." Source: J. Arthur Thomson, M.A., LL.D. Outlines of Zoology (New York, NY: D. Appleton & Company, 1916).

Lent: Are We Living Dangerously Enough?

At Lent retreats, I used to ask participants if they had ever been to the desert.  But after moving up to Connecticut, I finally stopped.  Everyone said “no.”  Except a few who would ask, “Does Las Vegas count?”

No, Las Vegas does not count.

Have you ever been to the desert? 

I have.  I understand what the desert is all about.  It is quiet, still, empty, beautiful, harsh and dangerous.  In the desert, you are always one false move away from needing something desperately.  Like water, or shade, or an antidote for a snake or spider bite. Yes, my desert had tarantulas.

In the desert you face your own fragility and the fragility of those around you.  All it takes is that mercilessly hot West Texas sun to remind you that your place in the universe is small and precarious.  Survival is not a given.

Jesus spent forty days in the desert.  Israel spent forty years.  Days and years of precarious living.  Days and years of facing one’s own weakness, accepting that survival is not a given, looking beyond oneself or one’s environment for certainty. 

Leaning heavily upon God alone, Jesus and Israel emerged from their deserts.  Israel settled in a new land and embarked upon an enormous task, to live faithfully as God’s people.  Jesus was strengthened and resolved for mission, to tell God’s story to the human race and to love his own to the end.

We speak of Lent as our desert time.  In this desert, do we recognize how fragile we are, how precarious life is, how the structures and things we depend on for security are one false move away from falling around us like a house of cards? 

Precarious living is actually Gospel living.  It recognizes that total dependence on God is where true strength is found.  The trials of the desert are where we meet God and live only by what he offers – living water, the shadow of his wing, and the antidote of his love. 

From Lent, from life, from desert, we may not emerge unscathed.  But we can emerge as God’s own, strengthened, emboldened for mission and “filled with the power of the Spirit” (Lk. 4:14). 

* * *

“If we ask God for so little it may well be because we feel the need for him so little.  We are leading complacent, secure, well-protected, mediocre lives.  We aren’t living dangerously enough; we aren’t living the way Jesus wanted us to live when he proclaimed the good news” (Anthony de Mello, Contact with God: Retreat Conferences). 

Briton Riviere, The Temptation in the Wilderness, 1898

A Good Old-Fashioned Lenten Fast

I read something today that I’ve honestly never thought about before.  An article by Fr. Daniel Merz at USCCB.org points out that Adam and Eve were asked to fast.  To fast is to limit oneself in some way, to do without.  God asked Adam and Eve to “do without” that one tree.  As we know, they chose to break that fast.

That tree, and the breaking of that fast, symbolize the choices we have in life, the free will which is the greatest of human gifts.  Without free will, there are no relationships because there is no love.  Without free will, we aren’t human.

Adam and Eve lived in a paradise of sorts.  And yet even in this paradise, they were asked to fast.  This simple idea helps us understand fasting – its purpose, its goodness, and why it should still be part of our lives.  Most of us modern Americans live in a kind of paradise in the sense that we have every single thing we need or want practically within arms’ reach.  Want entertainment?  Get it.  Want news?  Got it.  Want food?  Open the fridge. 

Fasting is a deliberate attempt on our part to put the brakes on “having it all.”  It seems that even God, who wanted the very best for Adam and Eve, thought it wise to give them limits.  Of course this wasn’t to cause suffering or to impose his “rules” on them.  Perhaps the fast simply allows the opportunity to live more deliberately, to make choices.  There’s a link between fasting and freedom.    

I like a good old-fashioned Lenten fast.  I like the idea of giving something up.  It’s so simple.  It’s so obvious.  It’s so good.  I know there’s a lot of buzz out there about not giving up sweets or alcohol or any of those very old-school things.  I disagree.  Put the brakes on.  Exercise your free will.  Feel the freedom of saying “no.”  Because that link between fasting and freedom is really a link between fasting and love.  Our Lenten fast is a deliberate offering of our freedom for the sake of the other.  Perhaps it is a simple offering of love between you and Jesus.  Or perhaps when you fast, you turn that sacrifice into a material gift for someone in real need, someone who doesn’t have a “material paradise” at their fingertips.

Another way fasting helps us love is simply by training us to “put the brakes on” in other areas of our lives.  The discipline we gain from giving up concrete things like food, drink, and entertainment, can help us learn to give up those more abstract things like gossip, grudges and impatience.  If we have the strength to say no to an afternoon snack, maybe we will have the strength to walk away from that hurtful conversation at work. 

The goal of Lent is no different than the goal of life:  to love God and love our neighbor.  I know I can do that better when I have self-control and when I live deliberately, when my life is not about easy living but about slowly turning myself outward, toward the other – God and my neighbor.  There’s a link between fasting and love.  Lent is the right time to discover it.

John Kohan, Mixed Media Collage, Courtesy John Kohan, sacredartpilgrim.com.

That Mighty Heart on Amazon!

Just a note to let you know that my 2014 book, That Mighty Heart, is now available on Amazon as a paperback or eBook! 

I would love it if any of you who have read the book could take a few minutes to leave a review on Amazon.  Here’s the link:  That Mighty Heart on amazon.com.

I’m working on my next blog collection entitled In Every Life, as well as a new title in the Little Rock Scripture Study Series Alive in the Word that will be available in the fall (Lent: Season of Transformation).  I’ll keep you posted! Thank you for reading!

Sunday's Gospel: Self-Preservation vs. Love

The following is republished with permission from my column in Catechist Magazine.  For subscription information, visit Catechist.com.

FEBRUARY 19, Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time, Gospel Reading: Matthew 5:38-48

In this Sunday’s Gospel reading, Jesus continues to examine laws and take us to a deeper, more demanding understanding of them. He continues to follow the “antithesis” formula: “You have heard that it was said ... But I say to you ... ”

This excerpt from the Sermon on the Mount provides us with some of Jesus’ most revolutionary and challenging teachings. First Jesus acknowledges a long-standing law of retribution: “You have heard that it was said, 'An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth'” (verse 38). This ancient way of living in community, though it may sound harsh to our modern ears, was indisputably logical and certainly effective in preventing some crimes. If you knew that if you gouged someone’s eye out, they could lawfully gouge your eye out, you might think twice about doing the gouging in the first place!

And yet, as we might expect, this ancient law was far from Jesus’ ideal. He proceeded to teach something far less logical, something that goes against the grain of just about every human instinct we have: “But I say to you, offer no resistance to one who is evil. When someone strikes you on your right cheek, turn the other one as well” (verse 39). Jesus goes on to offer similar difficult teachings about giving to anyone who asks, and serving anyone who makes a request of you. All of this is to be done without expecting anything in return.

The next antithesis is even more difficult: “You have heard that it was said, You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy. But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” (verses 43-44). This may be the most-ignored teaching of Jesus in the history of Christianity. How often do we excuse ourselves from it because it seems so extreme? How often do we tell ourselves that Jesus did not mean it for our particular situation? How often do we secretly deem it impossible? Indeed, as Jesus continues to preach, we discover that he wants us to live like God himself: “For he makes his sun rise on the bad and the good, and causes rain to fall on the just and unjust” (verse 45). Being like God is a tall order, but Jesus does not say “try” or “sometimes.” He simply says to do it.

Our most basic human instinct is self-preservation. Jesus is challenging this instinct. He wants us to receive his teaching with the total dedication of a true disciple. If we do, our instincts can gradually be reshaped. Self-preservation falls by the wayside as we begin to instinctively act out of love for others. This teaching is as revolutionary now as it was then. To intentionally make sacrifices for the sake of others is the way of Jesus himself, the way of the Cross, the way of true discipleship.

ASK YOURSELF: In what area of my life can I live these difficult teachings? How can I avoid retaliating, even in small ways? How can I show love for someone who is opposed to me in some way?

ASK YOUR STUDENTS: Do you think it is impossible to love someone who is your enemy? How might you learn to do this? When Jesus says we should allow someone to strike us, do you think he means we should allow others to physically hurt us or verbally abuse us? Help your students distinguish between abuse (which should never be tolerated) and situations where they can safely choose not to retaliate (discuss some examples).

PRAY: Lord Jesus, you must think very highly of me to have such wonderful expectations of me! Help me to live up to your expectations. I can only follow your teachings if you help me.

LIVE THE GOSPEL: This week identify someone in your life who may not be an “enemy” but who is difficult to live with, work with, or be around. Ask God daily for the grace to love this person. Pray for this person. Find small, concrete ways to extend kindness to them.

Grisaille (underpainting) of Jesus and Thomas by Jack Baumgartner.  The stance of Jesus in this scene demonstrates the absolute receptiveness of Jesus to the other.  It might be trite to say a picture speaks a thousand words, but this one actually does.  Published with permission.  More of Jack's incredible work can be found here.