Deste do primeiro livro de nossas Sagradas Escrituras, é muito claro que Deus tem um relacionamento especial com toda e cada pessoa humana. A descrição da criação do Adão e da Eva (Gênesis 1:27 & 2:7 & 2:22) indica que Deus nós modelou do barro, (da terra, da lama, do solo) e inspirou-nos do seu próprio sopro (Espírito). No segundo versão desta historia, Deus fez Eva duma costela do Adão, a lateral dele. Esta significa que todos nos, homens e mulheres, estamos igual no valor e dignidade. Deste o inicio, Deus contemplou sua criação, e nos viu como muito bom. Deus só faz o que é muito bom – sem exceção! 

Na tradição do nossos antepassados hebraicos, nos temos esta sabedoria, referindo a Deus: “Você ama tudo que existe, e não odeia nada do que faz” (Sabedoria 11:24). Não como nossa tendência humana, Deus não da valor e, mais tarde, tira, despreza ou destrói. Deus nos ama (de novo todos nós). Nós estamos preciosos para Deus. 

O ministro inteiro de Jesus estava dedicado a proclamar, e fazer concreto e tangível, Abba-Deus’s amor tudo-inclusivo. Jesus entrou em, e tocou a vida entre aqueles que a cultura dele marginalizou e rejeitou, e convidou eles mesmos para se vêem como bem-amados de Deus. Enquanto a sociedade só os viu como rótulos, Jesus viu, e compartilhou, a Boa Nova com gente, pessoas que tiveram nomes, famílias, historias, sonos e desejos.

Nós lembramos quando os discípulos, numa tentativa de proteger Jesus para o trabalho “mais importante” de proclamar a Boa Nova, impedirem algumas crianças da presença de Jesus (Marcos 10:13-16). Naquele tempo, crianças estiveram consideradas quasi nadas. Certo que elas tiveram a afeição das suas próprias famílias, mas a sociedade geralmente as viu como a menor importância. Jesus repreendeu seus discípulos e acolheu as crianças. Ele disse que, “O reino de Deus é para aqueles, e para todos como aqueles.” Todos nós precisamos a presença e a benção de Jesus! Todos nós, no fundo dos nossos corações, queremos estar bem perto ao Jesus.

São Paulo continua o tema na carta aos Romanos (Romanos 8:38-39). “Estou convencido que nem a morte nem a vida, nem o presente nem o futuro, nem das alturas nem das profundezas, nenhuma criatura do céu ou da terra ou duma outra região, nos poderem afastar do amor de Deus em Cristo Jesus.” Jesus deu tudo para todos nós. Nós podemos sentir ou imaginar que Deus não esta contente conosco, mas Deus não tem nossas julgamentos internos. Apesar de nossas escolhas e ações que sugiram de habito, medo ou de egoísmo, Deus ainda nos ama.

O problema é em nossos corações fechados ou só parcialmente abertos. É nós que tentamos excluir pessoas que nós julgamos como indignas da vida, da educação e oportunidades, do amor.  O amor de Deus é total, absoluto, inclusivo, e universal. Como um pai, como uma mãe, Deus ama todos suas crianças. Deus deseja plenitude da vida, com todas as suas dimensões, para todos. O coração de Deus só tem capacidade para todo mundo. O convite dele é que nós expandimos nossos corações para acolher, com amor, cada pessoa que nos encontramos ao longo do nosso caminho. Não é fácil, mas, com Deus, tudo é possível.

Por favor desculpe meus erros.

When I was a younger man, in the seminary and after, I became fascinated with knowing about prayer, and how to pray. I sought out and read countless books – classics and more recent ones. The experience of moving closer to the divine spurred me on. I wanted to know what prayer is and how prayer works so that I might be able to pray “better.”

Certainly everything I read was not helpful to me. But there are a few gems that still seem true. Thomas Merton, the Trappist monk, author and spiritual explorer, when asked, “How should I pray?” answered, “Pray as you can. Don’t try to pray as you can’t” There is no formula for praying that fits every single person. We need to learn what way of praying fits our life, with its concrete circumstances, as it is today.

Too often we can read about prayer, or hear about a way of praying, that may be very beautiful for a monk or nun in a cloister or monastery. But if we try to practice it, we either give up praying because we can’t pray this way, we do damage to the way of living given us or to our health. Or we might end up with an awkward, clumsy, ill-fitting attempt at prayer – which is more about the how than about who we are trying to open ourselves and our life to. This is not prayer.

An example! When I left the seminary I had no idea where my life was going nor about what God desired of me then. My sister put me in touch with a good priest who advised me, “If you want to know God’s will for you, you need to spend a whole hour a day in prayer.” For years I twisted my life around, avoided plenty of opportunities that would have been good for me, and forced myself to carve out a block of an hour’s time to fulfill this invitation. I really did want to know God’s will, and this way of prayer was helping.

When I was led to join a L’Arche community, with its intense daily reality of  shared living, the community’s leader clearly pointed out to me that my hour of prayer was a luxury in the face of the needs of our people and home. When I complained to my spiritual director about this, he said, “Love is more important than any style of prayer.” I let go of that way of praying.

There’s another bit of wisdom that came to me from one of those books on prayer. A priest wrote that when people in New York City, whose lives are extremely busy, come to him to explain why they can’t possibly pray, he asks them, “Do you have three minutes to yourself a day?” For him, three minutes in which you put aside all else and focus all your attention on God is the absolute minimum amount of time for prayer. Everyone can find three minutes for God.

Then there’s Meister Eckhart, the medieval, German Dominican mystic. One of his most famous quotes is, “If the only prayer you ever pray is “Thank You,” that is enough. Every day is a gift and filled with gifts. We have so much to be grateful for. It’s easy to say, “Thanks!” Pray as you can.

There was strong Jewish community in a town in Eastern Europe some centuries ago. The community was very independent and had all services necessary for its people to live somewhat comfortably, and in peace. The community had one shoemaker, a poor and simple man with a loving wife and children. This shoemaker was responsible to craft and to repair all the shoes among the people.

Of course, there was a rabbi, and there were a banker and a baker, farmers and merchants, a butcher, a bookseller, and a beggar… Some were wealthy, others had enough to get by. A handful of men had the resources and availability of time to join the rabbi every morning for prayer at the synagogue.

The shoemaker went to work very early and stayed late six days a week. On the Sabbath the shoemaker and his family enjoyed resting and remembering God’s faithfulness and goodness to their people. The shoemaker savored the Sabbath with time to relax and to feel God close to him and to his family.

But every other morning of the week, as the “important” men of the community went to synagogue, the shoemaker would look out the window from his bench, think of God, and sigh from the depths of his heart and soul – wishing he could join them in prayer. After many years of toil, his children having grown and started families of their own in nearby towns, the shoemaker died at his workbench. 

The shoemaker went straight to heaven, and there was summoned by the One Who Alone Truly Is to come near to an honored place. The shoemaker, a bit confused and not understanding at all what was happening dared to ask, “My Lord, is there some mistake? I have only lived the simplest of lives, with almost no time to even think of you.” God answered gently, “My son, six mornings a week you sighed your desire to be close to me with your whole being. Welcome.”

This story was given to me many years ago. It’s a favorite. 

This is another in a series of responses to requests from readers. It seems important to repeat myself (maybe multiple times), because certain concepts are crucial to living spiritually. Here it’s the fact that fear is the greatest obstacle and danger that we deal with as human beings. Fear, when we give in to it, can drag us away from God. But we are not helpless in the face of fear. God has given us tools to deflect fear’s fatal attraction.

Do not fear. Do not be afraid. Fear not! Different versions of this invitation from God are probably the most frequent sentiment expressed by God in the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures. God knows how crippling and destructive fear is. God does not want us to be trapped in fear. Yes, we do, and will, feel fear. that’s not the problem. Life can be difficult and hazardous. The problem is how we choose to respond when we sense fear.

Fear wants to close us in on our self, to sow worry and doubt, to unhealthily question what our hearts know to be true. In the First Letter attributed to St. John (1 John 4:18) the author states, “There is no fear in love, but love that has come to maturity casts out fear.” What is mature love? Mature love is rooted in God’s love for us and for all. Love that is free to give and to receive mutually. Love that doesn’t expect anything in return. Love that knows deeply that all is gift. Fear cannot find access to our heart when God’s love is flowing through us. 

Though love is our best resource to counter fear, it’s not the only one. Love is one of what are known as the three theological virtues. The others are faith and hope. These three are not so much about “doing good acts,” but are special gifts from God that help us to keep our focus on God, and not on our fearful ego (what’s going to happen to me if…) so that we can live freely.

Faith is the inner certainty that God is God, that God is love, that God loves me so much that nothing can shake me – unless I give in to fear. Mature faith fills us with the conviction that, as St. Paul wrote to the early community at Rome, “If God is for us, who can be against us?” (Romans 8:31b). This is because God is for me, for us, for everyone. We know this to be true, not with our minds, but with our whole being.

Hope is living out of what we believe about God and God’s love – no matter what. Mature hope holds us unswayed by circumstances or apparent outcomes. We trust that God is with us, loving us, loving all, whatever happens. Each moment offers new possibilities since God is our companion. We choose to live fully,  lovingly, fearlessly. 

Writing on July 3rd, it’s the Feast of St. Thomas, one of the Twelve, the inner circle of Jesus’ disciples. The personality of the Apostle Thomas, aka Didymus (The Twin), as developed in the accounts of the Gospel of John, seems to be very often misunderstood. First of all, since there is no mention of any other twin among the Apostles, Thomas came to Jesus, and answered the personal call to follow him, but his twin did not. Thomas was decisive. This is the right thing for me to do, even if this means going a way other than that which my twin feels is right and good. Maybe this wasn’t easy for Thomas.

Thomas is briefly mentioned four times in the Fourth Gospel. The first is in Chapter Eleven (John 11:16). Jesus was avoiding Jerusalem and the surrounding towns at the time because the leadership of his people was trying to arrest and kill him. He receives a message that his dear friend, Lazarus, is critically ill. Lazarus lives with his sisters Martha and Mary in Bethany of Judea, a little over six kilometers from the capital city. What to do? Jesus delays. Perhaps he is weighing if this is the right time to put himself in harm’s way again. He may not be able to avoid falling into the hands of those who want to get rid of him.

In the meantime, Jesus comes to understand that Lazarus has died. Now he is ready to go, knowing that what he is about to do will be the last straw for his enemies. Jesus needs to be true to himself and to the mission of love that has been entrusted to him by Abba-God. Bringing Lazarus back from death will be another step of growth for those who follow him. When he announces to his disciples his intention, Thomas is the one who grasps the meaning of this and he says to the others, “Let’s go, too, and die with him.” For Thomas, the way forward is clear. Jesus called us. He’s told us all along that following him will demand that we be ready to give all as he is ready to give all out of love. So, we go! 

The second appearance of Thomas on the stage of John’s Gospel is at the Last Supper (John 14:5). Jesus is trying to reassure these, his closest followers and friends, that they do not need to be worried, upset, afraid, troubled by what is about to happen the next day, because – as Jesus has proclaimed from the beginning of his ministry – you have a place in Abba’s love that, if you welcome it, cannot be taken or shaken no matter what. And I’m gong to prepare a special place there for you. I want you to be with me where I am. Jesus then informs them that they already know the way into Abba’s love and presence. Thomas, being consistently concrete, asks “How can we know the way, since we don’t know the location to which you are going.” Jesus responds, “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life.” Just keep following me, step-by-step.

Thomas takes center stage during the third reference to him (John 20:24-29), the one we are probably most familiar with. This passage is regularly used to give Thomas an undeserved bad reputation. It’s Sunday evening (the same day Jesus was raised from the dead) and Jesus has appeared to his disciples. Instead of scolding them for their cowardice, denial, and abandonment, he greets them with peace, and in this, offers them a clear example of the forgiveness he is about to entrust to them. Don’t hold anything against anyone. Forgive as freely as I forgive you. Thomas is not in the room with the others. Why not?

The disciples have hid themselves away behind locked doors out of a deep dread that the authorities that crucified Jesus want to kill them too. Thomas is out in the streets. Perhaps he is getting food and water for the cowering crowd. Perhaps he is trying to discover if they really are in serious trouble because of their close association with Jesus. Instead of hiding, he’s out doing something, anything, to help their situation. When he returns, before he can report what he’s been doing, the others, extremely excited, talking all at once, shout at him, “We have seen the Lord!” This is the last thing Thomas expected to hear.

He responds, “Unless I can see and probe his very real and fatal wounds, I can’t and won’t trust what you have to say.” The others have had the experience of Jesus alive, with them, just moments before. Thomas has not. The last he knew, Jesus had been tortured and executed by the deadly efficient Roman forces. Have you all gone mad? As our former pastor comments every year when this gospel is proclaimed, “Thomas isn’t doubting Jesus, he’s questioning his companions.”

Thomas’s common sense, as always, is his guide. When Jesus shows up again a week later, Thomas is there. Jesus, knowing Thomas deeply, offers his hands and side for Thomas to touch. He doesn’t need to. Thomas responds with a profound credo, “My Lord and my God.” The Gospel writer offers the next line to us, “Blessed are those who, without seeing me in the flesh, believe.”

The final mention of Thomas is a cameo in the final chapter of this gospel, a chapter that was obviously added at a later time (John 21:2). Simon Peter is restless and, not having specific directions from Jesus about what t0 do next, decides to go back fishing. It’s what he knows better than anything else in life. Some of the other disciples of Jesus choose to go along – whether they’re fishermen or not – perhaps to humor Peter, who, with his temperament, wasn’t always peaceful to be around. Maybe getting Peter back into a boat will calm him – or not. The first disciple mentioned to accompany Peter is Thomas. Pragmatic Thomas.