One of the greatest gifts from God is our human freedom. We can choose. We can even choose against God’s Will for us. This is a wonderful, terrible responsibility. This freedom we have is in no way absolute. We don’t have divine perspective to see all the options, and all the implications of those options, that present themselves throughout our lifetime. We are inhibited and blinded by fear and ego from within, and by expectations and other pressures on us from outside. We are free, but…

When we act as if we have absolute freedom to do as we have decided is best, we are no longer talking about freedom, but about license. We are not God. No human person (Jesus excepted) organization or ideology is God. It seems that millions of people today, acting out of their “freedom,” are doing so with no discernment. We are in the middle of a global pandemic, moving into a third year with no sign of stopping. For the vast majority of people, to refuse to be vaccinated when we desperately need to create mass immunity, cannot be equated with following God’s Will. How many more will die because of individuals asserting, as an absolute, their right to choose?

Our personal choices are never private. What we decide impacts the lives of others, whether we are aware of this or not. We have no right to deliberately choose actions that cause harm to our selves or to others. We are all interconnected and our choices need to take into account a greater good – the common good. Discernment invites us to consider consequences beyond our individual perceptions and perspective. 

Discernment is there to guide us in a healthy use of this gift of limited freedom, which God has entrusted to us. Discernment helps us to sort out how the possible choices before us are being presented to us or are shaped by forces other than the Spirit of God. Discernment leads us to a sense of the “goodness” or “rightness” of our decisions. If the action we are about to take is truly good for us, it will bring good to others as well.

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?

 

 

Big, bold, black letters painted on the sidewalk along a busy street near our home: “I AM READY TO DIE!” Do we live in an age of denying, dodging, and defying death? Death is a fact of life – a key component that offers both humility and perspective. Is it bravado to claim that one is ready to enter this singular passageway to what is yet to be? Maybe. Maybe not.

It seems possible that too many people are readier to die, to go so far as to taunt or to court death, rather than to deal with the challenges in front of them. What do they have to live for? Piling up more of whatever they deem as worthwhile? Cheap thrills? The riveted attention of the masses (or at least of someone)? They can never be the absolutely outstanding idol that social pressure goads them to be. They mistake fantasy for reality.

To live takes resources beyond one’s self and demands courage and resilience. To live well invites us to put aside childish, self-centered ways (the line of least resistance): to choose the path of integrity and self-gifting love, to discover and to become passionate about the gift we have been given to develop and to share, moved by God’s Spirit to work wholeheartedly to make this world of ours the place that God dreams it to be. In short, life to the full requires all that we are and all that we have. That’s what makes it worthwhile. 

The question is: “AM I READY TO LIVE?”

Who does Jesus send out on mission? If we look at the names and remember their stories, it’s crystal clear. These are not the best and the brightest. Nor are they morally perfect. On their own, they will not conquer the world; they will not even be able to stick with Jesus when his life is on the line. Yet, Jesus called them and empowered them with life-transforming authority (Matthew 10:1-7).

Out of their personal experience of Jesus, early on, the Twelve were able to bring healing and liberation to those who were feeling lost, aimless, worthless before God and humanity. The combination of their words (echoing Jesus’) and actions (imitating Jesus’ all-inclusive compassion) gave credibility to their proclamation of God’s in-breaking Kingdom.

Our world today needs this Good News. People are lost, wandering – lives going nowhere. Do we think that we’re not worthy to do this crucial work? Have we ceded our responsibility to a class of “experts” (who may or may not know how to be shepherds, or are separate from the daily struggles and joys of their “sheep”)? Do we believe that sharing our experience of Jesus today, and his vision that offers forgiveness, second chances, hope…can’t make a difference? 

We have all we need. We believe in a God who’s crazy in love with us – with everyone. The Spirit of Jesus has been entrusted to us. Healing and liberation are still available.

What’s the catch? Oh yes! We need to allow ourselves to be emptied of our fear, ego, expectations – all that closes us in on ourselves. So what if we can’t take credit for all that we have been given? Are we willing to make this tradeoff – self-centeredness for the indelible experience of being loved. And sent out to help transform the lives of others.

Not in our neighborhood! Not in my backyard! We just don’t feel right, or comfortable, or (maybe) safe with that kind around here. We’re good, honest, hardworking folk. We just want to be left alone to live our lives the way we want. How can we say this clearly? “You just don’t belong here.” Get the message!

Beginning the 5th chapter of Mark’s Gospel (Mark 5:1-20) is the story of a man, in the territory of the Gerasenes, who is possessed by a violent, destructive spirit (like we are sometimes?). Jesus has crossed over the Sea of Galilee, and as soon as he disembarks, the possessed man comes charging out of the local graveyard to confront whomever has come into his home turf, disturbing his chosen isolation.

Here is someone so interiorly enraged and in turmoil that no one can approach, much less restrain the man. Smashing, gashing, shattering all that is within reach – including himself. Somehow he recognizes who this is who has invaded his domain – his home,   unclean from the rotting corpses and bones of the dead, surrounded by a pig (unclean animal) pasture, in a pagan (unclean) land. He screams, “What are you doing here?” This isn’t where you belong! “Are you going to hurt me even more then I already am?”

Long story short: Jesus heals and liberates this man, fills him with a profound, unknown peace. Even conceding the final request of sending the mob of demons out of the man into an extremely large herd of pigs, who rush headlong over a cliff into the sea and drown. The swineherds, knowing that this will not turn out well for them, immediately hurry to the nearest village to report what had happened. It’s not our fault.

The villagers come out to see for themselves (maybe searching for 20 freshly emptied wineskins?). Occurrences such as this don’t take place here. We like things just the way they are. Don’t change a thing. But there is the raft of floating swine corpses, there is the madman from the tombs dressed, tranquil, lucid (even pleasant?), and there is an outsider, a foreigner, a stranger. 

This intruder has entered unwelcome, interfered in their lives, destroyed a major part of the local economy… Afraid, they ask this outsider to leave, now, please. They show absolutely no regard for the one who has been healed of unimaginable torment. The man asks Jesus, if he can go with him, away from this inhuman place, this madhouse. Jesus gently directs him back to his family. He probably has work to do to reconcile the hurt that he has caused, and Jesus gives him the mission to share the Good News as he himself has experienced it.

Jesus comes into our messed up, beautiful, crazy, wonderful world. What is our response? Welcome, or You don’t belong here? Habitual fear wrestles with hope. What radical change are we willing to endure, to embrace, in order that we, those we love, those we don’t even know, our world can be healed and liberated?

In the Gospel of Matthew (Matthew 5:38-42) Jesus is laying out another series of tough conduct guidelines for his followers. Quoting the Law of Talion (Exodus and Leviticus) Jesus states that an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth (which was a huge improvement over previous tribal punishment where unlimited retribution – whatever you could enforce – was a given) is not acceptable. “Offer no resistance to evil.” 

Then Jesus gives three stark, concrete examples: A slap in the face; a lawsuit that claims your tunic; and a demand from a soldier of the occupying army to carry his field pack. Jesus says Go along with it! Offer no resistance. This is not our usual way.

This challenge had extra weight for people of the Middle East. In the eastern cultures and societies, personal and tribal honor were extremely high (perhaps the highest) values. Bringing dishonor, disgrace or shame upon one’s family, tribe, one’s self was cause for shunning, excommunication, death. A slap in the face is a great insult.To be sued for your basic clothing is embarrassing. To aid the enemy, who is oppressively occupying your country – in any way – is treasonous. What is Jesus thinking?

It seems that Jesus is pointing out that for those who are called to bring about God’s Kingdom (us!) there is an alternative way of seeing and a different standard of behaving. This is the radical change that Jesus invites us into. If our world is to change, we need to change.

Our personal honor is not rooted in or dependent on how others treat us. The fact that we are beloved children of God cannot be undone, no matter what we do or others do to us. Our value is infinitely precious, no matter how we are treated.

We are not to resist any harm to our personal or public self, or any attempt to humiliate or degrade us. We are not to retaliate – ever. Vengeance is an empty reaction that can never be satisfied. We are to act as beloved children of a loving God toward all God’s children.

To be very clear, Jesus is not speaking here about how we are to respond (directly, forcefully) to unjust aggression or abuse of any kind towards others and/or ourselves. We need to see, name and confront evil in all its forms. But we also need to be extremely careful that our response is focused on bringing about good in a loving way – not about trying to comfort our aggrieved ego.