A Lenten Love

I give thanks to my God at every remembrance of you,
praying always with joy in my every prayer for all of you...-Philippians 1:3-4


The more I come to think about my life as it is and where it is going, I cannot escape the past.  The past is an essential piece to each person and I am no exception.  Our collective pasts teach us always about how the world works and who people are. 


I left Colorado with the mindset that Alaska is a temporary location for me.  And in many ways, it is still a temporary location.  However, what I had not expected was to find a place that could feel like home.  Along with this home, has come a community that made it a mission to proclaim the kingdom of God and to seek it above all else.  Such a goal has left me contemplative of whether I am even worthy of such a group of friends.  The short answer is no, but worthiness is not necessarily a criterion for acceptance.  This is especially true in Christianity. 


When I sat down to consider a new entry for the blog, the daily reading did not inspire me in such a way as to bring reflection but the letter to the Philippians has never failed to reach me.  I often resonate with the gospel of the day but today I resonate with St Paul.  While intimacy has been a particular struggle for me, I cannot say that I have not experienced the soul wrenching, years-in-the-making, type of love that often typifies the deep, committed, been together forever, relationship usually resulting in marriage.  I can say that I have experienced this once.  It is still a weird sentiment for me, even now, after all these years.  The feeling is a slight pull of the heart but not one that interferes with my life.  But without that love, I would not know love.  I would remain, as Pope John Paul II described, "a being incomprehensible to himself" (Redemptor Hominis).  And it resulted with the good words of St Paul:  "I give thanks to God at every remembrance of you, praying always with joy in my every prayer for ... you."  Because truly loving for once, if only one up until now, has allowed me a far greater appreciate of faith, love, and God.


Nicholas Sparks often has a way with romantic words.  But I think that when it comes to a first love (particularly one that does not work out [as the imminent quote comes from and hints to]) the book/movie, The Best of Me, expresses a uniquely beautiful idea.  The character, Dawson, says in a letter that is read after he dies, "I love who I am when I'm with you, Amanda.  You are my dearest friend, my deepest love.  You are the very best of me." 


In order to have some continuity with the season of Lent, I would like to invite a brief reflection upon the tenets of Lent.  Lent asks us to consider, and practice, prayer, fasting and almsgiving.  These are intimately related to the evangelical counsels of poverty, chastity and obedience.  They are the fruit of faith, hope, and love.  Lenten love is a beautiful love.  It points towards the sacrifice, redemption, and salvation in the Passion, Death and Resurrection of the Lord. 


Authentically amorous or familial relationships should not be different and should have some sort of Lenten character to them.  They should involve some sort of service and support to the other.  It should will the good of the other.  And in success or failure, it should continue to be loving.  But there is a beauty in my own memories of love.  I thank God for it and pray for joy for you.  So if it works out in the end or not, there should always be joy in love.  And we should never stop praying for each other.


I don't know if I seek the one as Dawson does in Nicholas Sparks' The Best of Me.  I wonder if there is a 'dearest friend, a deepest love' who is not the beloved spouse.  Perhaps genuine love is its own unique character that can only exist between two distinct people.  If family is our first experience of love, then it would lead me to speculate that love can have an infinite number of identities, versions, types.  My love for my sister, Jennifer, is vastly different from my love for my sister, Teresa.  It is not deeper, lesser or greater, but it is very different. 


So for now, I can readily, and heartily accept that "I love who I am when I'm with you... You are my dearest friend, my deepest love.  You are the very best of me."

Harry Potter and the Spirit of Right Judgment?

You shall not act dishonestly in rendering judgment.
Show neither partiality to the weak nor deference to the mighty,
but judge your fellow men justly. - Leviticus 19:15

Upon reviewing my blog, I noticed that I had only registered three posts for calendar year 2015.  I try to recall what made 2015 so full that I could not take time to write more than three entries.  I do not believe that I filled my calendar with feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, visiting the imprisoned, tending to the sick, or welcomed a stranger.  The reason I do not believe that these events filled my calendar is because I do not recall performing a single corporal work of mercy.  

After reviewing a few definitions, mercy is essentially a lesser punishment than what could be expected or justly dispensed.  Last night before Mass, I said a little prayer for my sister who has be gone for nearly five years.  I prayed that God's mercy might touch her and bring her into his house and give her a room prepared for her and that if God's mercy could be so generous, that I would be allowed to join her.  

In the Gospel today, Jesus tells of the final judgment.  The Church teaches that there are two judgments; the particular judgment which occurs at the moment of death and the final judgment which comes when Jesus comes in glory.  He outlines the criteria for entry into heaven.  The Church refers to these criteria as the corporal works of mercy.  

Today, I would like to offer a preliminary commentary on mercy inspired by today's readings.  I have two topics to discuss that are not too unrelated.  The first is the actual action of judging and the second is love.  During the season of Lent this year, the Holy Father, it seems to me, would like for us to consider judgment and love in addition to the statutory prayer, fasting and alms giving.  I gather this because this year he has made this the year of mercy.  

Many of my protestant friends and most of my secular friends are very fond of the scripture "judge not lest ye be judged."  Another pithy statement that I often hear is "only God can judge."  In the light of today's readings, I cannot possibly imagine that any Catholic, or any Christian for that matter, can shirk the responsibility when presented to them.  Judgment, it seems, can become a moral imperative and so we must be well formed.  It is thus one of the gifts of the Holy Spirit is the spirit of counsel.  Interestingly enough, counsel is often referred to as the spirit of right judgment.  

It is not often that I use fiction to make a point, but I would like to recall a very brief event from the novel Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.  At the end of the school year, when the headmaster was tallying points to award the House Cup, he awarded last minute points.  He awarded the final points to Gryffindor house's Neville Longbottom for courage for standing up to his friends.  Earlier in the film, the character rightly guessed that his friends were going to break house rules and cause trouble and he called them out on it.  While the circumstance did not end well for him and the plot advanced, the recollection of this event later in the book glorifies the actions of Neville.  The spirit of fortitude is often supplemented by right judgment.  The story would have ended the same without this little moral act.  However, had Harry or any other character said to Neville once confronted, "judge not lest ye be judged" or "only God can judge," and had Neville replied, "You know what? You're right," would have made Neville look like a fool and tarnished the honor of the mission.

This blog entry is not for a commentary on relativism but it is worth noting that I believe that sin exists and to each action there is a definitive right and wrong.  It is interesting that in the Harry Potter series that right and wrong are often not clear.  Neville is rewarded and recognized for making it clear that Harry and company were wrong.  While not proper in this context,  I must note for emphasis (and my nerdy love of Harry Potter) that the quest at the end of the first book was character defining for the three principle characters but it was completely unnecessary.  While not stated explicitly, Neville was right that they were going to break rules.  The kids were not punished for their violations, but they broke the rules all the same.  They wanted to prevent the primary villain from obtaining the philosopher's stone.  After the sordid ordeal ended, the reader learns that there was a small bit of information about the stone that would have prevented the villain's ability to retrieve it.  Thus the whole quest was entirely unnecessary as the risk was not actually present only perceived.  

Judgment is a necessary prerequisite in mercy.  As many definitions explain, mercy requires a judgment and then a lesser punishment than deserved.  One who cannot rightly judge cannot, by definition, be merciful.  Thus I pray to God that you and I may be given a spirit of right judgment.  Then perhaps in God's grace we may be among those described by Jesus:  "Blessed are the merciful; for they will be shown mercy."

The second commentary is on love.  Ordinarily, my commentary on love is repetitive and essentially the same thing over and over again.  I would like to share a story that happened just over three months ago.  The men's group I was a part of invited the Archbishop of Denver to speak to us on manhood.  During the preceding barbecue, some of us engaged his attendant, a seminarian, about his studies.  He noted that homiletics was by and far the most difficult class.  He recounted the extreme stress he felt when one day their professor decided to have each man give a one-minute homily.  I commented something to the effect that this seemed like the least stressful of tasks.  I noted that with only a minute it would seem in most circumstances to prudently default to the greatest commandment according to Jesus, "love as I loved you.." and place it in the gospel context.  If this is too daunting, then authentically convey love for the people.  If words fail, then do one's best to imitate Jesus.  The Archbishop and the seminarian both looked at me very discerningly.  I left Colorado for Alaska shortly thereafter, so I could not follow up.  

I suffer greatly from pride.  A priest-friend once told me that I should not speak about myself unless asked about myself as a small method to deal with the sin.  It is rather difficult to do so.  Intellectual vanity is a terrible struggle.  Look at me, I am so smart.  Look at me, I am so right.  Look at me.  Great care must be taken to ensure that the intent of my blog and the action of my blog proceed harmoniously in love.  The purpose of blogging may have begun in pride, but now it is to get my thoughts out there.  If I can evangelically reach that one lost sheep and be an instrument that Jesus uses to bring them back, then all praise to God.  

Love is an absolute prerequisite for mercy.  This brings us full circle.  The Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches that mercy is fruit of charity (love) in paragraph 1829.  In this reflection on mercy, it seems that I must wholeheartedly reconsider to what degree I exercise love and right judgment.  If the fruit of love is mercy, and I have do not perform any works of mercy, then it stands to reason that I have not loved at all.  Thus I would have failed in the most basic commandment to just love.  Pride is a terrible sin that keeps me from loving as I ought.  In order to right myself and to continue to hope in my prayer to be reunited with my beloved sister in heaven, I firmly renew my Lenten disciplines:  I give up Facebook to be more open to people; I take up the Chaplet of Divine Mercy to pray for God's mercy on us all; and I work on this pernicious sin of pride so that I may love authentically and wholly.  

May the Lord bring us all peace.