We can have more wishes and desires for our life than we have abilities, energy, or years on this earth.  Which ones could be from God, and which are my own preferences or fantasies?  If I have no musical ability, no matter how much I enjoy listening to Chopin, it is most unlikely that God, who made me, is asking me to become a concert pianist.  If I feel ill or faint when I see blood, God is probably not inviting me to become a surgeon.

Then there’s the fact that God isn’t into giving us multiple choice tests.  Discernment is always binary – as much as we prefer to keep all options open (just in case…) – a choice between two mutually exclusive good paths. Am I called to serve God and others, using my gift for numbers, as a teacher of mathematics or as a financial counselor?  Am I called to serve God and others, using my gifts of compassion and in the area of science, as a researcher seeking cures, or as a hospice nurse?  

But if we have discerned that our vocation is marriage, we are not asked to discern if we are called to marry John or Matthew.  Here the binary discernment is: Am I called to marry John, or not. And the same goes for Matthew, or not.

Discernment is rooted in our concrete reality: who we are as we are, with our gifts, our limitations and the circumstances that shape our life as it is today. It is never theoretical, nor does it deal with “what ifs” or “maybes.” Discernment seeks the better of two, real choices, not the best or the ideal choice.

We’re called to be loving. Nice, but not very helpful in the concrete circumstances that make up our lives. Our days are filled with countless decisions and choices. Discernment is about learning how to choose well.

Most of our decisions do not have life-shaping consequences: which socks to put on; do I prepare my cup of coffee before or after I make toast; which book do I choose to read first…  Our preferences don’t require discernment.

Someone rear-ends the car I am driving; I am diagnosed with an aggressive and unpredictable cancer; someone I care about sends me a card for no particular reason…  Things happen to us that we have little or no control over, These are not discerned.

Do I lie rather than admit that I ate that last piece of cake – that I knew someone else had already claimed?  Do I steal a cell phone that someone left on the park bench? Do I lash out in anger or do I hold my tongue? Is what I am choosing to do, or how I am choosing to live, ruining my life, destroying my relationships, stealing peace and joy from me? No need to discern between right and wrong, bad and good. God desires that we always choose what is right and good, no matter how difficult it may be for us. God wants fullness of life for us.

What does that leave? Discernment is for major decisions, life-direction (vocation), choices that significantly impact our life and the lives of others. God desires to be involved, a partner, when we face these types of alternatives – alternatives that arise out of the circumstances of our lives like a fork in the road. How do we decide which way to turn? Discernment.

Along with prayer and community, discernment is one of the most important and most demanding of the spiritual disciplines. Discernment is all about coming to know what God wants for us, as individuals, and as communities. This isn’t some arrogant human effort. We can discern God’s Will because God empowers us to.

God has given the concrete model of Jesus’ life as well as the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of Jesus, the Spirit of love, to be with us and to guide us. Clearly Jesus invested many hours in prayer, in coming to an intimate, deeply personal, familiarity of Abba and Abba’s preferences. Prayer and discernment go hand-in-hand. 

As Jesus lived and taught, we are all called to live our lives with a single focus – to become holy. God wants us to be holy. Holiness requires our wholehearted dedication, within the specific circumstances of each of our lives – not in some idealized, detached perfection. And what are we to be so completely dedicated to? Loving!

As disciples of Jesus, he commands us to love one another – as he has loved us – with his whole being – to the end. This is God’s Will, always and in every situation. To come to this depth of loving, we need to put aside any and all manifestations of ego: self-referencing, self-centeredness, self-assurance. Loving demands that we are free enough from our selves to be present, attentive, and available to others as they are; free enough to enter into the need and pain of the other. to care and to give, more and more fully, of what we have been given.

There must have been something strikingly memorable about how Jesus made sure a huge crowd of hungry people ate, and went home satisfied. All four Gospels tell the story, while Mark and Matthew have two versions of this wonderful event. Whether it was the location (deserted, apart), or the amount of time the people were with Jesus (three days), Jesus is concerned for their welfare.

In Matthew 14:13-21, Jesus has just received the terrible news of John’s death at the  often-bloodied hands of Herod. John had been a kind of mentor to Jesus. He had baptized Jesus in the river Jordan. When John was arrested, Jesus took up and expanded upon John’s mission and message. 

It seems natural that this bitter news would go straight to Jesus’ heart. He would need time and space to grieve this painful loss. John’s death would also make even clearer Jesus’ own fate if he chooses to continue the work of God.

Jesus and his disciples get into a boat and head off to a place away from the needy crowds, to feel, to process and to reevaluate. A crowd figures out where Jesus is headed and arrive at the spot before him. Jesus puts aside his need for a time, out of compassion for these little, broken and oppressed people. He gives them all he can.

It is getting late in the day and the disciples are becoming anxious about the needs of the crowd. Maybe their own stomachs are beginning to grumble a bit? They come to Jesus and lay out the situation for him (as if he, sensitive as he is, hasn’t already taken this all into account). These people need food. They are in a deserted place.

Jesus who has been tending to the hungers of these people’s hearts and spirits for hours, turns the responsibility back to his disciples – to us. “They don’t need to go anywhere. You feed them.” This is the moment of truth. What is our response? The disciples, having surveyed their resources, come up with five loaves and two fish, and fervently hope that Jesus won’t ask them to give away their supper. 

Jesus has the crowd make itself comfortable on the grass, lifts the loaves and the fish in blessing, and asks his disciples to share what they have. Is it possible, or even likely, that Jesus’ disciples are the only ones in that vast throng to have had the forethought to bring along food when going to a deserted place? The people recognize their common need and their shared gratitude for what Jesus has given of himself to them. The sharing is contagious. Barriers fall. There is more than enough food to go around.

Have we been paying attention to Jesus? Are we frozen in the realization of our littleness, our inability to solve such huge problems, or by the meagerness of what we feel we have to offer? Jesus doesn’t ask us to impoverish ourselves, just to give what we can – to bless what we have and share it with those God places in our path.

Bernard of Clairvaux was a monk in the rugged Cistercian order and a dynamic, engaging preacher. Bernard lived in the twelfth century, and had a charism for turning people’s hearts toward God. For him, growing in wisdom was a sign of someone who was on the spiritual path.

According to Bernard, you could tell if a person was moving into wisdom. There are three unmistakeable markers: Admission of one’s sins, giving praise and thanks to God, and speaking only in a constructive way. I find a challenge here. 

It’s not too difficult to own the fact, in general, that one makes mistakes, tries and fails, or is responsible for some not-so-loving actions, thoughts, or speech. But it can be hard to say to someone (especially someone you have hurt), “I did it. It was wrong. I’m sorry.” Our tendency, if caught in a wrongdoing or if we do something shameful, is to deny, explain away, blame…, anything but admit our guilt. Bernard encourages us to simply say, “It was my fault. I sinned.” I am not, and I don’t need to pretend to be, perfect.

Giving praise and thanks to God! No problem? At least not when everything seems to be going the way I want it to. But what about when it feels like my world is disintegrating and I can do nothing to prevent it. In that moment the invitation is to remember that God is the very source of my being. God chose to create me, gifted me, and surrounded me with wonderful people and situated me in this amazing universe. Not only that, God is with me in all that happens – no matter how it feels to me. Thank you, God, for all that has been, for all that is, and for all that will be!

For me, the biggest challenge comes with the third indicator of wisdom – to always, with everyone and in every circumstance, speak in a way that builds up – to never use words, intonations or non-verbal language that tears down. Regardless if the target is another person, an institution or myself, I am to find a way to express myself positively. 

Maybe this is hardest when using constructive criticism. Constructive criticism sounds almost like an oxymoron. We are to use our gifts for observation and critical thinking to formulate evaluations that build up, not undermine. Sometimes faulty construction or an inadequate foundation requires a gentle dismantling. Constructive criticism often does not feel good to the one on the receiving end. It needs to be delivered wrapped in love for the person, organization or idea being criticized. Constructive criticism is a critical step in re-building even better than before. Isn’t this what God constantly does with us when we are shown our weaknesses, our failures and are invited to grow beyond where we are now?