Feast of St. Martha

http://sogreatacloudofwitnesses.blogspot.com/2011/02/st-martha-feast-day-july-29.html

Wednesdays are a treat for me because Fr. Mitch Pacwa celebrates Mass on EWTN and he always increases my understanding of both history and Sacred Scripture. I always remember the beautiful Lenten retreat he offered on Isaiah 53. Don't ever miss the chance to learn from him. Today is the feast of St. Martha, the busy and efficient hostess who was reprimanded by Jesus because she wanted her sister, Mary to help. 40 Martha, burdened with much serving, came to him and said, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me by myself to do the serving? Tell her to help me.” 41The Lord said to her in reply, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and worried about many things. 42 There is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part and it will not be taken from her.” (Luke 10:38-41). Today we see Martha grow in faith. Here's the Gospel:

Many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary
to comfort them about their brother [Lazarus, who had died].
When Martha heard that Jesus was coming,
she went to meet him;
but Mary sat at home.
Martha said to Jesus,
“Lord, if you had been here,
my brother would not have died.
But even now I know that whatever you ask of God,
God will give you.”
Jesus said to her,
“Your brother will rise.”
Martha said to him,
“I know he will rise,
in the resurrection on the last day.”
Jesus told her,
“I am the resurrection and the life;
whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live,
and anyone who lives and believes in me will never die.
Do you believe this?”
She said to him, “Yes, Lord.
I have come to believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God,
the one who is coming into the world.”

Fr. Mitch begins with the fact that God loves us, not to be confused with affection, which is a normal human response. Even the animals have affection. But love comes from God. God *is* Love. It is so great and infinite that He gives His only Son so that whosoever believeth in Him shall not perish (John 3:16). Jesus loves the Father and each of us so infinitely that He goes to the Cross willingly to save us. And this is why we are able to love another. It's about offering ourselves to God and accepting Him. It's about offering ourselves to our neighbor and accepting them.

Jesus loves Martha and Mary and Lazarus. They are His friends and they love Him too. Underpinning this love is faith. And you can see how Jesus draws Martha closer in this exchange and deepens her faith. She believes Lazarus wouldn't have died if He'd been present. She believes in the resurrection (the Pharisees and Essenes do, but not the Sadducees). And when Jesus tells her HE *is* the Resurrection she professes her faith. She believes Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God. The wording is very similar to Peter's confession of faith (Mt 16:15-16):

15He said to them, “But who do you say that I am?” 16^{* j} Simon Peter said in reply, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” 17Jesus said to him in reply, “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah. For flesh and blood^* has not revealed this to you, but my heavenly Father. 18^k And so I say to you, you are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church,^* and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it. 19^l I will give you the keys to the kingdom of heaven.^* Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven; and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.” 15


So if we've received the theological virtues of faith, hope, and love, and if we nurture them, we continue to grow in them. But once we reach heaven, faith and hope disappear--we don't need faith because we will see God and we don't need hope because we're in heaven. Only love remains! But oh, this is just an inadequate summary. If you have a chance, listen to his homily (~12 min). 

It was this feast day that we got to attend at EWTN six years ago on our way to see my brother. How the time has flown. And how much our Lord has brought me closer to Himself. My prayer is that all who read this will be brought closer to Him too. 

Magdalen and Me

Resurrection by Fra Angelico 1440

Yesterday was the Feast of Mary Magdalen, the Apostle to the Apostles because it was she who announced the good news to them. I love her so much and identify with her because like the Magdalen, I'm a sinner who's contrite. She is the woman whom Jesus heals of seven demons (seven deadly sins), who washes the feet of Christ with her tears and then dries them with her hair when He is dining with the Pharisees. They are surprised he'd let a woman of such ill-repute touch Him. But our Lord tells them that she has loved much. Is she the same Mary (of Bethany) who sits at Jesus's feet to listen, who breaks open a jar of costly nard to anoint our blessed Lord? I don't know. We know Jesus tells Judas the traitor to leave her alone, to let her prepare His body for burial. We do know she's the same Mary who accompanies our Lord to the Cross, and who is the first to see the risen Christ because she goes to the tomb early Sunday, while it was still dark, to anoint His Body. She's expecting to anoint a corpse, instead she sees two angels at the tomb. I love this painting by Fra Angelico because it tells the story so beautifully.   

St. John evokes the Song of Songs, which are love songs and can be very erotic but I've come to the conclusion that marital love is the perfect metaphor because there is no other equivalent to express how passionately God loves us. Think of the four stages: betrothal, wedding, consummation, birth. In the Magdalen, the conversion is complete.

I've been pondering this love for a long time, how He loved me from the beginning, how He loved me while I was still mired in sin, how He extended His Hand to me, drew me close even though I was filthy, and washed me tenderly. And no matter how often I fall, He picks me up, washes the dirt and grime off me and makes me pure again, the way I was meant to be. His love is constant, always seeking, and never satisfied until I am with Him and He in me.

Well, we finally got some time at the beach. So peaceful and beautiful, the water as warm as a bath! Deo gratias!

Happy St. Valentine's Day

Putting on of Ashes, Missal à l'usage de Saint-Didier d'Avignon, c. 1370 

Memento homo, quia pulvis es et in pulverem reverteris:

Remember man, you are dust and to dust you shall return.

The children's writing community is shaken from the allegations of sexual harassment. But we are no different than others in the entertainment industry. Just because we write about bunnies doesn't mean that we haven't breathed the same air that puts Hugh Hefner on a pedestal. We live in a culture that objectifies women and women are sick of it and finally pushing back. But until we can see people as people and stop using them like things, nothing is going to change. 

Although I have never been harassed at a writer's conference (there are perks to being older and wiser), I have observed and heard inappropriate comments by the few men in attendance. I was grateful that it wasn't as bad as it was in academia/science where women were in the minority. Alas, these days, in our efforts to be just like men, it's not unusual to hear equally crass jokes from women. Sigh. I do hope that bringing this infection to the surface is going to allow us all to heal. Lord, help us to stop sinning.    

The antidote is, of course, real love. In the preparation for Lent we heard the passage from 1 Cor 13:4-8 Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant, does not act unbecomingly; it does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails.  It's fitting that this St. Valentine's Day falls on Ash Wed. I include a link for a wonderful article on dying to self for love. Wishing you a happy St. VaLENTine's Day. God bless.   

A Love Story

Several years ago, I wrote a short piece for Catholic Digest on our conversion. I've always wanted to say more because I'm a woman in love and I can't stop thinking about my first Love: Jesus Christ.

Baptism: I'm like the paralytic brought to Jesus

There's only one baby picture of me, I suspect because I was the fourth and last child of my parents, born in Khandwa, India. Although my mother was raised in the Anglican Church (her father was a priest who went on to become a Bishop) she brought me to Jesus at a Methodist Church, probably because the pastor there, Rev. Sham Rao, was a family friend. He baptized me when I was 2 months old, on the Feast of St. Patrick, March 17. My soul was marked as belonging to Jesus. I will always be grateful to my parents for my life, but especially for baptism.

And so began my life in Christ. I do not have a memory of not being in conversation with Him as a small child. He was ever present in my mind and I remember falling off chairs and tables because I was making space for him on those chairs and tables. I was already in love, thanks to all the Bible stories my mother shared. I was also aware of my guardian angel and had complete confidence of his protection. I lived without any sort of fear. My mother suffered greatly because of this. She tried to tell me cautionary tales but to no avail. I also had no fear of death because I knew that then I'd get to be with Jesus forever, just like my older brother, Arun.  

And so I grew. We moved to Bhopal when I was still an infant and there I went to St. Joseph's Convent School when I turned four years old. I loved the sisters and was sure I'd be a nun some day, a doctor-nun.

My father went to Germany to study and it was a shock to realize I'd forgotten him upon his return. I was five when he left again, to the US, and it was a very difficult time for my mother, managing everything on her own and not having any money after my other brother had a case of rheumatoid arthritis as well as several abdominal operations. I wrote about this in A Feast for Christmas. One thing that amazed me was my mother's faith in God's providence. And He did provide.

We moved to the US shortly thereafter, but returned to India a year later with my sister and mother when my parents' marriage began to fail. My brother stayed behind with my father in the US. And although I didn't know it at the time, this would be disastrous for my faith. I only knew that after we returned to India, I'd not only lost half my family, I'd also lost my best friend, Jesus. I no longer enjoyed the same closeness as I once did.

Eroding Faith: the Necessity of a Father

I was ten years old when I read the Diary of Anne Frank. I wept over what I learned was the holocaust. I couldn't believe that God would allow such carnage, and to His chosen people! This problem of suffering was one that my mother couldn't answer. She told me to have faith, but I was losing it. By that time, I was also aware of the suffering around me--the poor, the sick, the destitute. It seemed God didn't care for His creation at all, that only people like Mother Teresa, Damien of Molokai, and Albert Schweitzer did anything to alleviate suffering. They became my role models. By the time I turned twelve, I made a conscious decision not to pray because it seemed useless. I wanted to be a doer, not realizing that the great works of the saints had a foundation of prayer. But the day I made my decision, I cried buckets because I had truly lost my best Friend.

The absence of my father loomed large and I decided to rely upon myself, become self-sufficient. I enjoyed my studies and dreamed big dreams, of ministering to the sick, and in my old age, writing about the many adventures I would have. And as I grew and matured, I was puffed up with myself and missed Jesus less and less, until I didn't think of Him at all. I filled my time with studies and work and music. I think perhaps music and science are the two subjects of my curiosity and delight that still made me think, Oh how beautiful! There must be a God.

Where Sin Abounds so does Grace

I broke my poor mother's heart by being utterly willful and unrepentant of anything. She, of great faith, couldn't understand how she could've raised a child who actively chose not to have faith. I went to church, only to sing in the choir and make us both happy. I met the love of my life (now my husband) and reveled in the lust. We joked about how eager I was to be corrupted.  

When my mother died, there was no longer a reason to go to church and I didn't after the funeral. I was finishing up my studies in microbiology and was thinking about getting a job. Dreams of medical school vaporized; I was utterly alone and desolate. For the first time I felt fear. Fear of debt. Fear of failure. Fear of myself. When the acceptance letter finally came, I declined.

I spent more than a decade of my life in decadence. I didn't give a thought to the poor or suffering. I lived for myself and for pleasures. I thank my guardian angel for protecting me because surely had I died in my 20s I'd be in hell. I would've rejected God's mercy because frankly, I didn't think I needed it. I'd lost all sense of sin.

A Softening of the Heart

Michael and I finally married after ten years of pursuing our own dreams separately. That was the first step in living not just for myself, but for him too. I thought I'd given my all to him but it wasn't so. I withheld my fertility. Only five years later did we decide to grow our family. Max and Dagny taught me (still teaching :) even more about how to love, but just as quickly we closed that door, and this time permanently, with a vasectomy (we joked it was his 40th birthday present--and I write about those regrets in Contraception, Infertility and a Faith Journey).    

I quit working as a research scientist and embraced the life of being a homemaker. That old buried dream of writing surfaced. While still pregnant with Dagny, I looked into taking a writing class at the community college and as luck would have it, Peggy King Anderson was offering a class weeknights on children's writing and best of all it was offered at the local high school, just 10 min away. I didn't know the first thing about children's literature but I loved it, especially since I was discovering a wealth of it with Max, who adored being read to.

Some of the women in this writing class and the next one I took a couple of years later became my critique partners. I grew with them thanks to their many secret prayers. Molly and I would stay late talking books and faith and it was she who told me I was the world's worst atheist. She could see the little flame of God inside me, even if I was unaware.

My journey of faith is tied to Michael's. He had grown up with no faith at all and sometimes I think my loss of faith was necessary for us to be together. Tragedy struck American soil on 9/11 and it shook Michael to the core. He started examining his values and reading more conservative literature. We often talked about the things he was reading and I was writing. Our hearts were softening. 

The kids started school and with it came several bad influences, though the good far outweighed the bad. We didn't know how to counter the permissive culture, the complete insanity of rejecting natural law. I thought about my own childhood and the wonderful assurance that Jesus gave me but I couldn't be a hypocrite and send the kids to Sunday school when we did not believe. So we tried our best to love and raise the children with an emphasis on having a sense of right and wrong that is indeed written upon our hearts.

But one Christmas I was compelled to buy a children's Bible (You gotta love Amazon. I just checked on the link and it was Dec. 5, 2006 :) and Michael was so enamored by it, he offered to read the stories to the children. So began a love affair night after night as we read stories.

Church: Which One? 

But how we resisted going to church. I liked the Jesus and me theology. It was simple and uncomplicated. Also, every church we looked into didn't seem right. A group of people met to worship at the elementary school, but it felt too casual. I know that when two or three gather in His Name, He's there, but I wanted a sense of the sacred. Then there was a big church at the bottom of our hill that advertised "No Weird Stuff." What were they implying? That there's weird stuff in other churches? I went online to investigate the Anglican church, the one where I had some roots. But it was no longer the same church even. There were women priests and even homosexual priests. How could it be? It's as if people made the church in their own image. Whatever they liked in the Bible, they kept, and whatever they didn't (like the teaching on the indissolubility of marriage, remember Henry VIII?), they just threw out. Finally, after much grumbling, it made sense to go to the first church that Jesus established, which was the Catholic Church.

It was Fall 2008. Max and Dagny were already in school and had begun playing organized sports. Michael thought it might be good to wait until after football season ended but that didn't make any sense to me because faith shouldn't depend upon any season. So we went one Sunday in October to St. Jude Parish, just 10 min away, near the high school.

I cried and cried because I was home. My kids had never seen me cry like this so I had to assure them it was because I was happy. Later Michael told me it all seemed very strange because the only thing he knew about the Catholic Mass came from movies like The Godfather :) 

After Mass, I tried to enroll the kids in Sunday school but Mary, the very nice lady in-charge asked about the childrens' ages and when they were baptized and I said, "never," she told me I needed to speak to Deacon Karl about RCIA. What in the heck, I thought. She said it was a Rite of Christian Initiation. Boy, I thought, why can't you just join a Catholic Church; why all the fuss? Any other church would welcome us with open arms, but not Catholics; they made it hard with all their rules. But I am glad they do.

RCIA: Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults

So I took my complaints and questions to Deacon Karl and he was wonderful about explaining everything. We enrolled in RCIA, which had already begun. We all went to morning Mass on Sunday but Michael and I and the others who were inquiring about the Catholic faith were dismissed after the homily so that we could more deeply ponder the Gospel. The kids stayed in church with our sponsors. I will always be grateful to the donut ministry that kept my kids sugared up and Knights of Columbus for keeping an eye on our kids while our sponsors joined us for RCIA. We'd go home for a few hours, then returned for the children's RCIA, led by Mary. Then it was time for Mass and this time, the children were dismissed for lectio divina. Deacon Karl worried about us burning out and suggested we do this over a couple of years, first the parents, then the children or vice versa, but I am so glad we made this journey of faith together. I now hear that it's very rare for entire families to enter the Church so but God granted us all the graces. Our Sundays automatically became reserved for Church, given we only had a few hours in the afternoon. And our conversations often revolved around the Catholic faith. But it wasn't smooth sailing at all. My health took a dive. Migraines became more frequent and vicious. I had to reverse every single position I held that went against the faith. It definitely bruised my pride but I'd rather live with Truth. It is both good and beautiful, though not always easy.


RCIA helped me to fall in love again. At any point in the journey, any of us could've dropped out. In fact, in our adult class, two Protestant women left before the Rite of Acceptance. During Lent, there were scrutinies and minor exorcisms. I almost lost it all on Palm Sunday. After reading the Passion during Mass, I felt unworthy. I knew I deserved death, not life. But Jesus drew me to Himself and showered all His tender mercies upon me. I wanted nothing more than to be in the shelter of His Cross, to be washed clean in His Blood. Our entire family was received into the Holy Roman Catholic Church at Easter Vigil--April 11, 2009, the feast of St. Gemma Galgani. I know all heaven was rejoicing, and especially my mother and brother and all our beloved dead. Many friends here on earth were also praying for us and I am eternally grateful to each and every one of them.

A New Creation

We are no longer the same. We are new creations in Christ. We might look the same, keep the same job, have the same hobbies, but we are no longer the same people and we could no longer keep on living the way we used to. Michael and I opened our marriage again to new life. We made sacrifices for the children to be able to attend Catholic schools. And thanks to The Godfather, Michael searched out the Mass of the Ages and we happily attend the Latin Mass. We prayed for more faith and God opened doors that we simply had to walk through. Our move to SC was that of fleeing Egypt, says Michael. I find myself writing about the saints or other treasures of the Church--her wealth inexhaustible. For the first time, I will attend a Catholic writing conference. I find myself returning to the childhood state of being in conversation with Jesus throughout the day. And the fire that was ignited at baptism burns so hot, I want to light the whole world on fire. This is my love story. It has no ending because it will continue through all eternity.

The Seven Laws of Love

The Seven Laws of Love: Essential Principles for Building Stronger Relationships by Dave Willis. This is a very practical book about improving your relationships by loving the people God has placed in your life. The author is a pastor and has a very breezy style of writing that doesn’t make you feel like you’re being lectured to. I especially liked the end where he summarizes the points expounded in the book. He challenges the reader to “identify one relationship you’d like to improve. Perhaps it’s with your spouse, or a child, or a coworker, or a friend. Maybe it’s already a healthy relationship, or perhaps it is broken. If someone isn’t jumping to the forefront of your mind immediately, take a minute to ponder and pray about it.”

Pastor Willis begins the book with first defining love. 1 Cor 13:1-3. He boils down all that he’s learned from the Bible with the following definition: “Love is an unconditional commitment to selflessly serve, truthfully communicate, fearlessly protect, gracefully forgive, compassionately heal, and enduringly remain in relationship with and for the sake of another.”

In the first part, he devotes each chapter to one of the aspects of love: commitment, sacrifice, speaking truth, conquering fear, offering grace, bringing healing, living forever. In the second part, he gives practical advice on loving your spouse, your family, your neighbor, your friends, your enemies, yourself, and your Creator.

I know a couple of families who are hurting right now due to marital strife, difficulties with grown children, or at work and wish I had a copy to give to each of them. Even if you have strong relationships, this book will help you to see the areas where you could improve.

I'm not exactly sure why the author doesn't simply use the Litany of Love in 1 Cor 13:4-8 to make his points, but I suppose everybody who writes about relationships must have a new angle. Regardless, Dave Willis' organization is sound and enjoyable. Thanks to BookLook for providing a review copy. 

A Belated Happy St. Valentine's Day

Stained-glass window at basilica in Terni, Italy

Our little church, Stella Maris, was crowded this first Sunday of Lent. Ah, I thought, Lenten resolutions! But it was also St. Valentine's Day and we connect love with Church.

Our priest could've spoken about the three temptations of Christ. Instead he chose instead to share a few thoughts about St. Valentine's Day, which I'm happy to say is still on the traditional Latin calendar. I'm not sure why it was dropped in the new calendar in favor of two newer saints. Maybe it was becoming too commercialized? There are at least a dozen saints listed on Catholic-online for Feb. 14th but it is St. Valentine we remember and countless people, whether or not they're Christian, propose to their beloved this day or choose it as a wedding day.

I didn't grow up celebrating Valentines and didn't get to know the saint until after our conversion. And what a beautiful story of love.

There are possibly two St. Valentines in the early Church (2nd to 4th century) whose legends became entwined. Perhaps the Church tried to sanctify a Roman fertility rite that occurs from Feb 13-15. She always builds on the traditions that are good in the culture as a way to preserve them.

The story goes that St. Valentine, a priest, secretly presided at weddings for soldiers (at the time it was unlawful for them to marry) and he was imprisoned. While in jail, St. Valentine prayed for the daughter of his jailor and she was healed. There were conversions and the emperor raged (remember that Christianity was still underground). St. Valentine was to be beheaded for his role in supporting Christian marriage. His last note was to the jailor's daughter, signed, from your Valentine. This is a willingness to love until death.

I also enjoyed our priest's thoughts on logos and mythos. Logos is what we know scientifically. Mythos is inner knowledge. So a myth is not necessarily an untruth but it may be the best way to preserve the truth. And all writers of tales know the power of story, because of the truth it contains.

Happy St. Valentine's Day! Love each day.

PS: Requiescat in pace, Justice Antonin Scalia. We will feel your absence keenly.

Reading Contemporary Young Adult Literature

I was the lucky winner of these hardcover books a few weeks ago from Leandra. And what perfect timing because we had ten glorious days of Easter holidays and I had time to read all these. And there was no fighting :)

Although my favorite genre is historical, I enjoy stories set in the here and now, reflecting the troubles and trials of children in today's world. And boy do we live in challenging times, given that teenagers are looking for love ... in all the wrong places.

My favorite out of this bunch was HOW TO LOVE. The characters were real and I imagined a very happily-ever-after ending for many reasons, chiefly because they were good kids who chose to do wrong, but also lived with the consequences, and learned to love again. Both the boy and girl had a strong, supportive family, which was refreshing to see in a YA book.

FAKING NORMAL was my next favorite about a girl who is trying to be normal after being raped. I didn't guess who the rapist was until the author revealed it. I had suspected another character, so it was perfect. I like surprises. Again, I liked that the main character had a supportive family. It was a great contrast to the other major character's family, whose dad kills the mom. Yikes. But this is the reality for some kids. So these two kids' lives are intimately bound for a while. And here they learn to love, rightly.

MAYBE ONE DAY was a bittersweet story about friendship. Again, the girls had strong families that made the book enjoyable to read. They make some crummy choices but they are spot on as to why ... fear drives many of our decisions. However, I felt like this story has been done a million times, where a best friend is dying and imparts wisdom, so there weren't any surprises.

Loved the voice in THE BEGINNING OF EVERYTHING but frankly was repelled by the casual sex depicted. I think the main character was quite self aware when he said something about *using* a girl. Yup, recreational sex is like scratching an itch. Nothing special. But the problem is our bodies/souls are forever changed when we have sex, and we are not designed for heartbreak. We are made for love.

PANIC was the most disappointing of these five books. Felt like a riff on HUNGER GAMES. I had no respect for characters who thought so little of their lives that they would risk throwing it away for a mere 50 grand. The only reason I skimmed this book was to see how many stupid things the characters would do. And I do not equate foolhardiness with courage. Sorry. I couldn't believe that a dumb game like Panic was a tradition in this small town. I felt they all deserved to die. Sorry for being so uncharitable, but the stakes have to be high for a reason. And I wasn't buying any of them.

My kids and I have had interesting discussions about these books. I don't censor what they read, but they know that if something is offensive or disturbing, they should put it away.


These books reflect our culture and the distorted sense of love. Young people naturally think that love is all about wanting to be with the person, the pleasure you take, how the other makes you feel. Of course, love has those components but real love is an act of will, doing what is best for the other. It's a boy protecting a girl, a girl trusting a boy, and both exercising self-control. For young people reading this: the best way to measure love is given by Saint John Paul II in his book, Love and Responsibility: The greater the feeling of responsibility for the person the more true love there is. I highly recommend this book.

On Love

Nearly two months have gone by and I've not shared anything at all from St. Alphonsus. That's not because I have nothing to share but because the subject is so large -- on love. Am I ready to say anything profound? I doubt it, but I've had a chance to ponder and pray both on love of God and love of neighbor, the topics for March and April respectively.

Nature bids us love God! 

Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart, and with thy whole soul, and with thy whole mind. ~ Matt. 22:37

 

St. Alphonsus says, "Love of God is a divinely infused virtue which leads us to love the Lord our God as the sovereign good, and purely for His own sake."

The good saint challenges us and then gives practical ways to advance in God's love:
First, an ardent desire for perfect love.
Second, renounce all love that doesn't refer to God.
Third, deny oneself by gladly embracing what is opposed to self-love, and refusing oneself what self-love demands.
Fourth, frequent meditation on the sufferings of Jesus Christ, so that our hearts may be inflamed with love for our suffering Savior and to learn from Him what He desires us to do.
Fifth, prayer. "Jesus, give me Thy holy love." The Lord is generous is the bestowal of His gifts; but He is especially bountiful in giving His love to those who seek it.
 

Oh, to love Him perfectly, for nothing, no reason. It is everything. I am sorely lacking. The love I experience is bounded by my human nature. I love Him because He made me, because He is all good, because I want to be with Him, because He has blessed me abundantly. Would I love Him the same if my life were filled with strife? I think not. Remember, I lost my faith over the problem of suffering. That's because even though my heart is moved when I think of Him as a Babe at Christmas, I failed to understand the depths of His love for me when He endured His cruel crucifixion. And therein is the mystery of love. He lays down His life for me, for you, for the whole world.  

I was struck when Sister Jane Dominic spoke about woman's greatest desire: to be loved for who she is. Yes! Not for what I can do or give, but to be loved for who I am. And then she posed the question of man's greatest desire. I didn't know what it was. I looked to Michael and wondered if he'd whisper it to me. But there was pin drop silence. We waited to hear what Sister had to say. She said, man's greatest desire is to lay down his life for those he loves.

 

And everything clicked. Man, made in the image of God. Who lays down His life for us.

 

And so love of God is tied intimately to love of neighbor. St. Alphonsus says, "Why must we love our neighbor? Because he is loved by God." He goes on to remind us that brotherly love induces us to practice mutual forbearance.  

 

And so what is love? St. Paul defines it for us in his letter to the Corinthians: Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful;  it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth.  It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends.

 

It's a tall order. And the hardest to exercise with the people I know and say I love. St. Alphonsus gives some acts to practice in loving our neighbor:
Strive in the first place to reject every rash judgment, every distrust, and unfounded suspicion of your neighbor.
For charity in speech, avoid calumny and slander.
Give alms to the poor and needy.
Above all, extend charity towards your enemies. It is heavenly revenge!

This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. ~ John 15:12


My love is so limited and often, distorted. But my good friend Fulton Sheen (soon to be a saint, who is embracing Saint John Paul II) comes to the rescue. In one retreat he explains the conversation between Jesus and Peter after the resurrection. Jesus asks Peter, "Do you love me?" And thrice Peter declares his love. However, Peter uses the word "philia" (brotherly love) instead of "agape" (self sacrificial Godly love) that Jesus uses. But the third time, Jesus comes down to the human level of Peter and uses the word philia. Oh, how our Lord understands and knows our limitations, yet He trusts Peter to "feed My sheep." He is the Good Shepherd.

I wanted to speak of love in stories but this post is too long already. So I will close in His love. 

I love you and you are mine

For Valentine's Day, give me five minutes and listen to this duet. It's a beautiful hymn written and composed by David Haas. I must obtain sheet music for this. The chorus is:

Do not be afraid, I am with you
I have called you each by name
Come and follow Me
I will bring you home
I love you and you are mine.

Swoon.

To love is to belong ... to Christ Jesus.
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On love

Today's readings were beautiful and in particular, the second reading (1 Corinthians 13:1-13), which is often spoken at weddings and as you know I have a wedding on my mind.

Love is patient, love is kind.
It is not jealous, it is not pompous,
It is not inflated, it is not rude,
it does not seek its own interests,
it is not quick-tempered, it does not brood over injury,
it does not rejoice over wrongdoing
but rejoices with the truth.
It bears all things, believes all things,
hopes all things, endures all things.

Love never fails.
.
.
.
So faith, hope, love remain, these three;
but the greatest of these is love.
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But I was surprised to learn that this verse is often spoken at funerals as well. And now it makes sense because God is love. Perfect love. His love for us will never fail. And if you substitute the word God every time the passage refers to love, it becomes startingly clear that God is infinitely patient, merciful and loving ...

It was an emotional Sunday for me as I pondered these verses. It makes me want to abandon myself to Him, and yet ... the ego is still too strong. I keep coming back to the beatitudes: Blessed are the poor in spirit ...

So, which quality of love is the most difficult to express for you?
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