BE CAREFUL WHAT WE WISH FOR

[1]I recently visited a primary school and noticed an array of student assignments lining the school’s main hallway. Attracted by the bright colors and creative handwriting, I decided to take a closer look. What I saw was a collection of students’ answers to the question: What do you want to be when you grow up? I smiled as I read some of the kids’ responses—predictable ones, like doctor and astronaut, along with some surprises, like aeronautical engineer and toothpaste inventor. As much as I enjoyed seeing the fun stuff these kids imagined, I couldn’t help but feel a bit troubled by the whole thing. Of course, getting kids to think about what “could be” sparks creativity and imagination. It plants seeds of inspiration, but I can’t help but see the other side of this well-intentioned exercise: It sets the tone for expectations, expectations of self and expectations of others. It can lead to a life spent wishing and wanting. The expectations may become fruitful of full of disappointment. Seems to me, we might want to be careful what we wish for.[2]

I found James and John’s question of Jesus very interesting. “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.” (Mk 10:36) It sounds like a question a child might ask another child even a parent, hoping for blind consent. Jesus volleys back with his own challenging question, “Can you drink the cup that I drink?” (Mk 10:38)

In his book “Can You Drink the Cup?” Henri Nouwen remembers vividly the day this reading asked the question. Surrounded by members of the Daybreak community he remembered how this question pierced his heart. He realized if we take this question seriously, it would radically change our lives. The question has the power to crack open a hardened heart and lay bare the tendons of the spiritual life.[3]

In our common experience of the Mass, we see and hear in the Eucharistic prayer the priest prayerfully lift, show, and invite us to “Take this, all of you, and drink from it, for this is the chalice (the Cup) of my blood, the blood of the new and eternal covenant, which will be poured out for you and for many (all) for the forgiveness of sins.” and one of the appropriate responses from us is, “When we eat this Bread and drink this Cup, we proclaim your Death, O Lord, until you come again.” This Chalice, this Cup, we desire to share, is the Cup of Salvation.

It’s been a while since we’ve been able to drink from this communal cup. I’ve been questioned often about when we will return to the distribution of the precious Blood and I’ve heard the desire of many to receive the Blood of Christ. Fr. Ivan, in his most recent Facebook live session, addressed the timing for restoring the Cup acknowledging, “typically the first thing to go, is often the last thing to come back.” Yet, I can’t help but feel, we must be careful what you wish for. With the Cup, comes the walk with Jesus. The Cup, is more than something we consume, it speaks of expectations. Expectations of self and of others and expectations of the Church and of God.

When the privilege of the Cup returns, the piercing question become real, can we drink the Cup? In other words, do we live our lives in such a way that we can hold the Cup of life in our hands? Do we desire to taste all the sorrows and joys contained within the Cup? Can we lift it up for others to see and can we drink it to the full?

To drink this Cup asks, are we willing to walk with Jesus? Fully aware that His path is the way of the cross. The Prophet Isaiah tells us this is a path of sorrow, a path of suffering, and that “through this suffering, he will justify many.” (Is 53:11) The way is hard; it is the cup of sorrow he drank fully for us.

In our desire to drink the Cup, do we know what we are asking? If we answer, yes. Just as Jesus told James and John, he tells us too, we surely “The Cup that I drink, you will drink” (Mk 10:39) despite all our weaknesses. We have a high priest who is able to sympathize with our weaknesses. Jesus, who always walks before us, was tested in every way that we are, he “gets” us because He has experienced, in every way, human weakness.

The question, therefore, is NOT about our seat in heaven. It’s about our time on earth, about living our lives fully. It’s about loving God with our entire being, surrendering completely to His will, and living our faith in a way that draws others to God’s merciful love.

May our desire to hold, lift, and drink the Cup move us to be the missionary disciples God desires, in word and deed, for the salvation of all his children.

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[1] New American Bible, Isiah 53:10-11; Hebrews 4:14-16; Mark 10:35-45

[2] Psychology Today, “Be Careful What You Wish For” by Denise Founier Ph.D.

[3] Can You Drink The Cup, by Henri J.M. Nouwen © 2006.

HOT MIC

[1]If you're been around microphones and live-stream cameras long enough, you've probably experienced a “hot mic” moment. We hear about them regularly in the news and on social media. Politicians, celebrities, athletes, and coaches all have been caught by a hot mic often leading to the loss of their position or job.

When Jesus asked his audience to imagine a world in which their darkest thoughts and actions might be “brought to light,” he was posing a frightening—but highly unlikely—hypothetical situation to dissuade them from hypocrisy. Today, the omnipresence of cell phones and surveillance cameras has made it less and less likely that our unsavory behavior can enjoy the cover of darkness.

St. Teresa of Jesus life’s beginning were quite ordinary and often as conflicted as many of ours can be. As a child Teresa found herself in the middle of conflicting views. Her rigidly honest and pious father told her never to lie, but her mother, who loved romance novels to the displeasure of her husband, told Teresa, who also liked the novels, not to tell her father. Even when she entered her first convent, if there would have been a hot mic or hidden camera, the behavior would challenge anyone’s faith and vision of the “holy” nuns. For years Teresa hardly prayed at all “under the guise of humility” thinking as a wicked sinner she didn't deserve to get favors from God. But turning away from prayer was like “a baby turning from its mother's breasts, what can be expected but death?” So, Teresa sympathizes with those who have a difficult time in prayer, stating: “All the trials we endure cannot be compared to these interior battles.”

In her books, especially the “Way of Perfection” and “The Interior Castles” she analyzes and dissects mystical experiences the way a scientist would. She never saw her gifts as rewards from God but the way he “chastised” her. She discovered the more love she felt the harder it was to offend God. She writes, “The memory of the favor God has granted does more to bring such a person back to God than all the infernal punishments imaginable.”[2]

Ours is a time of turmoil, a time of reform, and a time of liberation. We have in St. Teresa a challenging example, where promoters of renewal, promoters of prayer, all have in Teresa a woman to reckon with, one whom we can admire and imitate. A woman who learned to love and pray so that she has no worry of the potential hot mic.

If we too kept before us the possibility of a “hot mic” or the hidden camera that might expose us, wouldn’t we be motivated to change our ways? More readily conscious in reconsidering our “private” gossip and slander? Willing to drop our “secret” habits? Would we turn our backs on the person in need?[3]

Prayer is a powerful mic check to ensure what comes through is our love of God. That our we wouldn’t need to worry if our private thoughts and actions are brought into light.

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[1] Scripture (NABRE), Romans 1:16-25; Luke 11:37-41.

[2] Catholic Online, St. Teresa of Avila

[3] Weekday HomilyHelps, Homily Suggestion by Jim Johnston.

THE IMPOSTER SYNDROME

[1]Sitting here as we hear the word of God it struck me seeing the masks on many of us, that we are getting to the point where we will soon be able to relax the local mask mandates just in time for Halloween that’s coming soon. So, we’ll get to put on some different masks. There’s another common reason we adults put on masks is called, it’s been called the Imposter Syndrome. It happens when we fear that the world is going to find us out. I’ve heard it described as the feeling of being a fake, like we really don’t belong, or we aren’t really successful but are just posing as such. It’s like my Halloween costume at age 7; I dressed up as a zombie, something I believed to be terribly scary, until my next-door neighbor yanked off my mask and said, “Oh, it’s just you.”

In today’s Gospel encounter with the Pharisees, Jesus is frustrated by the disconnect between, what the Jewish religious leaders profess to believe, and their actions. Their preoccupation with external cleansing is really only a mask to disguise the real uncleanliness that comes from the inner life of a person.[2]

What masks do you wear? Do you really need to wear them?

Paul tells us God’s righteousness is revealed through the Gospel. God is faithful to the commitments to the world, and to the promises made to the Jewish people. God’s faith, His fidelity, His commitment comes first; we, in turn, respond with our faith of openness and commitment to His graces. God created us, knit us together in our mother’s womb, He knows us through and through despite the masks we choose to wear. It seems one of our greatest fears may be, that if we show our true selves, the world will say, “Oh, it’s just you.” Yet, being just who God created us to be is actually the best and most perfect thing we can ever be.

Oscar Wilde once said, “Be yourself; everyone else is taken.” We weren’t born with masks. We put them on, so we can take them off. Here are three practical reasons why we need to shed our masks: The first reason is we are called to live to our full potential. We have been wonderfully made and gifted uniquely to hold a place in the community and the family of faith. The second reason, it’s got to be exhausting to live an inauthentic life. Pretending we are something we may not be. It’s like telling a lie, then needing to tell more lies to keep up the appearance of the first lie. The third reason is when we wear masks, we lose a piece of ourselves, we’re basically saying that we consider parts of ourselves as unworthy. To be in, maintain and heal relationships (human & divine), we must offer up all of ourselves.[3]

The poet E. E. Cummings wrote, “The greatest battle we face as human beings is the battle to protect our true selves from the self the world wants us to become.” To become an imposter just to fit in the world. Let us think about the masks we wear and commit to taking them off, no longer imposters, but exactly who God created us to be. Let’s live the good within us—no apology, no shame, no regrets, just us, beloved sons and daughters of a loving God.

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[1] Scripture (NABRE), Romans 1:16-25; Luke 11:37-41.

[2] Weekday HomilyHelps, Exegesis by Michael Guinan, OFM

[3] Psychology Today, “The Masks That We Wear” by Susan Sparks, posted October 20, 2015.