I AM ALL FIRED UP!!!

My feelings about mangas, life and so on.

[momentsbeforemass]

What’ll it be?

What’ll it be? What’ll you have?

It doesn’t matter how you ask it. The answer to the bartender’s eternal question? It has consequences.

It marks the designated driver. It shows wisdom in an unexpected place, revealing someone who knows their limits.

And it can separate a night you’ll want to remember, from one you’ll always regret.

Today’s Gospel is the parable of the sower. Well, really just the last part of it. Where Jesus tells us what the good soil represents, what the rocky soil represents, etc.

This one shows up a lot in the readings. So we get to hear this one a lot in church.

But whether it’s the explanation by Jesus that we get today, the short version we hear at Mass during the week, or the long version we hear on Sundays. There’s something missing from every version of this parable.

Bystanders.

The truth of the parable of the sower is that in this life, there are no bystanders.

There is no safe place to stand out of the way. No matter how much we’d rather not get involved, we already are.

We’re stuck. We have a choice to make. We don’t just get to pick which type of soil we’re going to be.

We have to pick which type of soil we’re going to be.

And just like the bartender’s eternal question, our answer to that question has consequences. Eternal consequences.

So what’ll it be?

Today’s Readings

[momentsbeforemass]

Seeing

Sometimes the Bible can sound like nonsense.

Like today’s Gospel, “they look but do not see and hear but do not listen or understand.” How is that even possible?

It’s not just possible. It’s commonplace. You and I do it all the time. Here’s how it goes.

We look. We label. And…we’re done.

We don’t really see the person. Not after we label them.

It’s not just that we don’t stop for a closer look. We don’t even slow down. With a quick label, we’ve turned them into a thing. Dropped them into a convenient box with everything else that has the same label. And moved on.

The scary part? How often you and I do this. And how easily we do it.

Whether we slap a positive label on them or a negative label really doesn’t matter. Because either one does the same thing.

When we label, it keeps us from seeing everything that’s really going on with them. From ever understanding who they are. Or why they do what they do.

Which means that we can never help them. We can never use the gifts that God has given us to do any good for them. To make any difference in their lives. Even the thought to do that never occurs to us. Because to us, they’re just another thing with a label.

Truth be told, getting past the labels and to the person?

It’s the only way that any soul is ever saved. It’s the only way that any life is ever changed.

And it starts with seeing them not as a label, but as a person. As someone.

Someone worthy of your time. Someone worthy of your sacrifice.

It starts with seeing them the same way that God sees you.

Today’s Readings

[momentsbeforemass]

Love and doubt

Every age has its mistakes.

One of the big mistakes of our age? Black and white thinking. The false assumption that something, or someone, has to be either all one thing or all the other. As if there were only two, mutually exclusive options. And nothing else was even possible.

Sometimes it’s easy to spot. Like in toxic workplaces. And toxic families.

Either you’re either on the good list. And can do no wrong. Or you’re on the bad list. And can do no right.

What’s harder to spot is when you and I internalize that false assumption. And assume that we can only be one thing or the other.

One of the common ways this plays out in our thinking? With doubt. The notion that if we have any questions, any doubt at all, then we can’t believe in something. And therefore, must totally reject it.

The idea that we could love something, or someone, and still have doubts?

We don’t know what to do with that. We can say the words. But the idea? It is so foreign to us, that it just doesn’t stick.

Which is why we struggle to understand Mary Magdalene’s actions in today’s Gospel. She sees Jesus, she talks to Jesus, but she doesn’t recognize Jesus. Not at first.

This makes no sense to us. How could someone who loves Jesus not recognize Jesus?

If you’ve ever wanted to see how bizarre speculation about stuff in the Bible can get, today’s Gospel is an absolute goldmine. And it’s all because of our black and white thinking.

If you’re not locked into black and white thinking, the truth of the matter is actually pretty simple. And something that we all do, but don’t admit to ourselves that we do.

Mary Magdalene loved and doubted.

The truth is, Mary is just like us. We might like to pretend that we’re all one thing and not the other. But none of us really are that way. All of us are a mixed bag.

This was common knowledge in the early centuries of the Church. Speaking about Mary Magdalene, Pope Gregory the Great put it this way,

“Because she loved and doubted, she saw Him and did not recognize Him. Her doubt prevented her from knowing Him, and her love revealed Him to her.”

Nowhere does it say that Jesus removed all of Mary Magdalene’s doubts. Or that she had perfect faith. Mary Magdalene loved and doubted.

You want to know why, in the end, Mary Magdalene was able to recognize Jesus?

Because she didn’t let her doubts run away with her. She didn’t fall for the nonsense that one drop of doubt somehow cancels an ocean of love.

Mary Magdalene kept on loving, even though she doubted. And in the end, it was that love, in the face of doubt, that carried her to Jesus.

Mary Magdalene’s lesson for us is something that you and I cannot hear enough in this age of black and white thinking.

You can love and doubt.

God won’t love you any less.

It’s okay to doubt. But don’t let it keep you from loving God.

Today’s Readings

[chibird]

Some hope and comfort today. 🌄 The pain and struggle *will* fade one day, and you’ll be left with growth and learning.

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[momentsbeforemass]

Not a real Christian

I’m a practicing Catholic. As in I’m going to keep practicing until I get it right.

But I’m not a real Christian – at least according to the people who thoughtfully send me “You can’t be a Christian if…” and “You can’t be a Christian unless…” messages and memes.

I’m also a permanent deacon.

But I’m not a real Catholic – at least according to the people who thoughtfully send me “You can’t be a Catholic if…” and “You can’t be a Catholic unless…” messages and memes.

Why? Well, I’m just not living up to their expectations.

I wasn’t baptized by immersion (we couldn’t afford the water bill), I believe that Christ is really present in the Eucharist, and I confess my sins to a priest.

Which means I’m not a real Christian to them.

I don’t say hateful things about people who disagree with what they say the Church believes and/or who don’t perfectly live every aspect of Catholic teaching every moment of their lives.

Which means I’m not a real Catholic to them.

Truth be told, I don’t perfectly live every aspect of Catholic teaching every moment of my life. Which would be why I have sins to confess.

None of this bothers me. Because I’m not worried about what “they” want.

In the end, there’s only one opinion that matters – God’s.

As it turns out, what God wants has nothing to do with any of that “You can’t be a Christian if…” and “You can’t be a Catholic unless…” stuff.

What does God really want? The answer is in today’s first reading.

And it has nothing to do with purity tests. Or perfect performance. Or arguing about which sin is worse (reality check – anything that can come between you and God will do the job).

“What does the Lord require of you, but to do justice, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God?”

It’s short. It’s simple. And it’s the work of a lifetime.

I know I’m going to stumble and fall. I’ve got a history with God.

But God always picks me up when I do. God’s got a history with me.

That’s where I’m headed.

If that’s where you’re headed and you’re looking for a companion on the way, I’d love to walk with you.

Today’s Readings

[momentsbeforemass]

Mercy

It’s easy to be good to people who are good to us.

It’s so natural that it’s expected. It’s just assumed that’s what we’ll do. To the point that we instinctively call out someone who isn’t good to people who are good to them.

“That’s how you thank him? After all he’s done for you?” “She couldn’t have been kinder to you and look what you did to her!”

It makes perfect sense. We should be good to people who are good to us. But there’s a subtle danger in all of this.

That – without really meaning to – we’ll drift into being good to people, only because they’re good to us. Only if we’re getting something out of it. That we’ll be good to people, but only because we want something from them.

That we’ll treat them like vending machines.

By the way, if you’re looking for a way to isolate yourself from people? And from God? This works. Extremely well.

It’s the point that Jesus is making in today’s Gospel. When He says, “If you knew what this meant, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice,’ you would not have condemned them.”

So what does it mean? Sacrifices are a classic feature of ancient religions – a transaction system. If you wanted your god to do something, you made a sacrifice.

The point Jesus is making is that’s not the relationship that God wants to have with them. As their insert-sacrifice-get-stuff vending machine.

You want to have a real relationship with God? Start with the right foundation for that relationship. Start with mercy. 

But understand this – mercy is unearned. Mercy is not about merit. Or about who deserves it and who doesn’t. Mercy is a gift.

God doesn’t need anything. So if we’re going to give mercy, we’re going to have to give mercy to someone else.

Someone who hasn’t earned it. Someone who doesn’t deserve it.

Otherwise it isn’t mercy.

Here’s the odd thing about mercy. When we give mercy to someone else, we start to see ourselves in them. We see how much we take for granted.

What we think of as ours? What we think of as what we deserve? It’s really just God’s mercy poured out on us.

Understanding that we don’t deserve any of it?

It’s the only way to lose the vending machine mindset.

And the only sure foundation for a real relationship. With God or anyone else.

Today’s Readings

[momentsbeforemass]

Mercy

It’s easy to be good to people who are good to us.

It’s so natural that it’s expected. It’s just assumed that’s what we’ll do. To the point that we instinctively call out someone who isn’t good to people who are good to them.

“That’s how you thank him? After all he’s done for you?” “She couldn’t have been kinder to you and look what you did to her!”

It makes perfect sense. We should be good to people who are good to us. But there’s a subtle danger in all of this.

That – without really meaning to – we’ll drift into being good to people, only because they’re good to us. Only if we’re getting something out of it. That we’ll be good to people, but only because we want something from them.

That we’ll treat them like vending machines.

By the way, if you’re looking for a way to isolate yourself from people? And from God? This works. Extremely well.

It’s the point that Jesus is making in today’s Gospel. When He says, “If you knew what this meant, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice,’ you would not have condemned them.”

So what does it mean? Sacrifices are a classic feature of ancient religions – a transaction system. If you wanted your god to do something, you made a sacrifice.

The point Jesus is making is that’s not the relationship that God wants to have with them. As their insert-sacrifice-get-stuff vending machine.

You want to have a real relationship with God? Start with the right foundation for that relationship. Start with mercy. 

But understand this – mercy is unearned. Mercy is not about merit. Or about who deserves it and who doesn’t. Mercy is a gift.

God doesn’t need anything. So if we’re going to give mercy, we’re going to have to give mercy to someone else.

Someone who hasn’t earned it. Someone who doesn’t deserve it.

Otherwise it isn’t mercy.

Here’s the odd thing about mercy. When we give mercy to someone else, we start to see ourselves in them. We see how much we take for granted.

What we think of as ours? What we think of as what we deserve? It’s really just God’s mercy poured out on us.

Understanding that we don’t deserve any of it?

It’s the only way to lose the vending machine mindset.

And the only sure foundation for a real relationship. With God or anyone else.

Today’s Readings

[momentsbeforemass]

The God we know

People have a lot of ideas about God.

Some of them aren’t too bad. Some of them are just odd. Some of them are toxic.

Most of us (myself included) share a source for some of our worst ideas about God – people.

Whether it’s other people weaponizing their version of “God” and using it against us.

Or someone telling us that something utterly horrifying is “God’s judgment” on someone.

Or even us. Telling ourselves that God has abandoned us. When we’re stuck in the worst part of grieving a loss. And we can’t feel God, or much of anything else.

Which is why it’s so important to shake off those ideas about God. Even when they’re our ideas.

Left unchecked, they will lead us away from God. Either to a version of “God” that bears little resemblance to the real thing. Or to give up entirely.

After the death of his wife, C.S. Lewis struggled with the damage that his ideas about God were doing to him. How they were hurting him. How they were keeping him from grieving the loss. He came to understand that,

“My idea of God is not a divine idea. It has to be shattered time after time. God shatters it Himself…the incarnation is the supreme example; it leaves all previous ideas of God in ruins.”

Which means? That you and I need to get away from our ideas about God, to ground ourselves in who God really is. And the place to do that is the incarnation Himself, Jesus.

A good place to start is today’s Gospel. Where Jesus shows us who He really is,

“Come to me all ye who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart; and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

No matter how far you and I wander off, this is the God who is calling us back.

No matter what we’ve done, this is the God who still loves us.

When all our ideas about Him are shattered, this is the God we know.

Today’s Readings

[momentsbeforemass]

Questions

“You ask too many questions.”

When someone tells us not to question them. When we hear something like that. Alarm bells go off. Or they should.

Because that means your questions are hitting something they don’t want you to know. Something they don’t want to talk about. They’re hiding something from you.

Always ask questions. But make sure that they’re the right kind of questions.

Wait, what?

There are two kinds of questions. Questions that aren’t really questions. And actual questions.

We see this all the time in the Gospels. There are the Pharisees (“the wise and the learned” Jesus calls them in today’s Gospel) who ask Jesus loaded questions. Things like “is it right to pay the imperial tax to Caesar or not?”

They’re not really asking about the morality of paying taxes to a foreign occupier. They’re just trying to set Jesus up. To either lose His support among the Jews. Or to have Rome put a price on His head.

It may have the form of a question, but it’s not really a question. 

For a real question, look to Mary. And her question to the angel who just told her that she would conceive and give birth to the Messiah. She asks, “how will this be, since I am a virgin?”

Mary is saying, “I understand what it takes to get pregnant. I haven’t done that. Explain how this is going to work.”

That is a real question.

The kind of question asked by people who genuinely want to know, who are trying to understand. This is the right kind of question.

It’s the kind of question that children ask. When they’re learning and trying to understand the world and everything in it.

That is the “childlike” that Jesus is referring to in today’s Gospel. Questions like those of a child.

Real questions, asked by people seeking real answers. That is who God will reveal things to.

This is why we should never be afraid of real questions. Whether they are someone else’s questions. Or our own questions.

God isn’t.

Truth be told, those are the questions that God is waiting for.

Today’s Readings

[momentsbeforemass]

Self-inflicted

Moses screwed up everything.

Moses should have been killed as a child. Instead, he gets adopted by Pharoah’s daughter.

Moses grows up in the palace. He’s got every advantage. But he’s still in touch with his own people.

He’s got everything he needs to succeed, and he’s doing it without losing who he is.

Then (as today’s first reading shows us) Moses tries to protect one of his own people and ends up killing an Egyptian.

His own people turn on him. Pharoah orders him to be put to death. And Moses flees for his life.

In one day, Moses loses everything. And it’s all his fault.

From a human perspective, that sounds like the end of the story.

I’m sure that’s how it looked to Moses. And yet we know it’s actually the beginning.

This is the backstory of one of the greatest liberators in human history. Which makes no sense at all.

How is that even possible after a self-inflicted disaster like this?

The reason that his story doesn’t end with an execution, the reason he becomes the Moses we know from the Exodus, comes down to one thing.

Moses listened to God.

Mind you, Moses didn’t start listening to God until after his self-inflicted disaster.

In fact, Moses didn’t start listening to God until he had already been hiding out on the back side of the desert for 40 years. Moses was not a quick study.

None of that bothered God in the least.

When Moses finally started listening to God, God didn’t tell Moses that he’d waited to long.

God didn’t say, “If you’d started listening to me years ago, I would have been willing to help.”

God didn’t tell Moses that he’d thrown away too many opportunities or that he was too far gone.

God didn’t say, “You could have done great things, if you hadn’t killed that Egyptian.”

Instead, God begins with Moses like it’s day one. Like nothing has happened that could derail God’s plans for Moses. Because it hasn’t.

Not because Moses is anything special.

After all that’s happened, it’s not easy for Moses to trust God. He even gets into an argument with God, telling God all the reasons why God’s plans won’t work and why he’s not the right person.

None of that matters to God. Because (as Isaiah tells us) God’s ways are not our ways and God’s thoughts are not our thoughts.

Again, not because Moses is anything special. But because this is who God is. And this is how God looks at each one of us.

No matter how long it’s been. No matter what we’ve done.

Even if it’s self-inflicted.

None of that matters to God.

With God, what looks like an end to us, is really a beginning.

One that starts with listening to God.

Today’s Readings

[momentsbeforemass]

Powerful

What you focus on becomes powerful.

It’s a basic fact of how our brains are built. When we focus on something, our brains will literally re-wire themselves. To make focusing on that thing easier. To make it easier for us to think about that thing. Making it more likely that we will go back to that thing. Again and again.

It’s the science behind memory. It’s why we remember certain songs from childhood so well. We sang them so many times that our brains have been hard-wired for that song.

When something gets hard-wired in our brains, it becomes our default. Our unthinking go-to whenever that need arises. Especially in times of stress or crisis.

What you focus on becomes powerful.

The obvious danger? What if we’re hard-wired for the wrong thing?

What if our default, our unthinking go-to is something or someone that fails us when we need them most?

If something or someone your brain is hard-wired for fails you in time of crisis, it’s not just a fail on their part. Because of that hard-wiring, it’s going to feel like a betrayal. No matter how much you tell yourself why they couldn’t have helped, why they didn’t mean to. No matter how much you try to rationalize it. For you, it will still be a betrayal.

For your hard-wired brain, it’s a gut punch. Because that something or someone has become that powerful for you, that betrayal will hurt you on the deepest level.

Which is why the Gospels are so adamant about focusing on the only One who never comes up short. About making the one who is that powerful for you the only One who never fails. God.

The most loving, kind person in the world will still fall short. Still makes mistakes. Is still human.

To allow any human being to become that powerful for you is to set yourself up for that horrible, gut-wrenching feeling of betrayal when they inevitably fall short.

Focus on God. Let God become powerful in your life.

Not only will you never have to worry about that horrible, gut-wrenching feeling of betrayal from the One who never falls short.

But with your focus on God, God will give you the grace to understand, love, and even forgive the people in your life. When they inevitably fall short.

The bottom line – even if you don’t mean to, you will focus on something. Which is why it’s so important to intentionally choose to focus on God.

Because what you focus on becomes powerful.

Today’s Readings

[momentsbeforemass]

Alone

It’s bad. And it’s only going to get worse.

Sometimes, that’s how life can feel for us. Whether the roof’s actually caving in on us, or we’re just getting beat down by the petty setbacks of life. Whether it’s the one big thing, or thousands of little things that keep piling up, really doesn’t matter much.

Because when life feels like that – no matter how we got there – it’s easy to get tunnel vision, to get stuck. To feel like we’re all alone.

And either end up in despair. Because it’s just too much for us to handle.

Or feel like we have to do it all ourselves. And finding out the hard way that we literally can’t.

Either way, we end up in the same place. Feeling worried. Overwhelmed. Burned out. Alone.

All because we’re making it harder on ourselves than it has to be. By trying to do something that we were never meant to do. By trying to do it on our own.

So what’s the alternative? What were we meant to do?

It’s simple. So simple that it’s easy to miss. In the middle of all of the setbacks and just busyness of life.

Even in today’s Gospel. It’s easy to miss. In the middle of all of the bad things that Jesus talks about.

You and I were never meant to go through life feeling abandoned and stuck.

You and I were never meant to do it alone.

But sometimes, that is what it feels like. Like we are one our own.

Actually, that feeling that we are alone? That’s the great lie that being overwhelmed tells us.

But no matter how loud that lie is. No matter how strong that feeling is. No matter what it feels like. It cannot change the simple reality that God will never abandon you.

Even when you can’t feel it, God is still there.

In the words of Pope St. John Paul II, “Remember that you are never alone. Christ is with you on your journey every day of your life!

He has called you and chosen you to live in the freedom of the children of God.

Turn to Him in prayer and in love. Ask Him to grant you the courage and strength to live in this freedom always.”

Today’s Readings

[momentsbeforemass]

Alone

It’s bad. And it’s only going to get worse.

Sometimes, that’s how life can feel for us. Whether the roof’s actually caving in on us, or we’re just getting beat down by the petty setbacks of life. Whether it’s the one big thing, or thousands of little things that keep piling up, really doesn’t matter much.

Because when life feels like that – no matter how we got there – it’s easy to get tunnel vision, to get stuck. To feel like we’re all alone.

And either end up in despair. Because it’s just too much for us to handle.

Or feel like we have to do it all ourselves. And finding out the hard way that we literally can’t.

Either way, we end up in the same place. Feeling worried. Overwhelmed. Burned out. Alone.

All because we’re making it harder on ourselves than it has to be. By trying to do something that we were never meant to do. By trying to do it on our own.

So what’s the alternative? What were we meant to do?

It’s simple. So simple that it’s easy to miss. In the middle of all of the setbacks and just busyness of life.

Even in today’s Gospel. It’s easy to miss. In the middle of all of the bad things that Jesus talks about.

You and I were never meant to go through life feeling abandoned and stuck.

You and I were never meant to do it alone.

But sometimes, that is what it feels like. Like we are one our own.

Actually, that feeling that we are alone? That’s the great lie that being overwhelmed tells us.

But no matter how loud that lie is. No matter how strong that feeling is. No matter what it feels like. It cannot change the simple reality that God will never abandon you.

Even when you can’t feel it, God is still there.

In the words of Pope St. John Paul II, “Remember that you are never alone. Christ is with you on your journey every day of your life!

He has called you and chosen you to live in the freedom of the children of God.

Turn to Him in prayer and in love. Ask Him to grant you the courage and strength to live in this freedom always.”

Today’s Readings

[momentsbeforemass]

Whose plan?

It’s easy to be worried.

Whether it’s about your job or your classes, your relationships or your goals, your greatest hope or your deepest heartache. When it comes to anything we really want, anything we really care about, anything that really hits home, it’s easy to be worried.

It’s easy to be worried about whether it’s ever going to happen. About how it’s going to happen. How it might never happen. How we’re going to make sure it happens. How to keep it from happening.

So we try to deal with that uncertainty by over-planning.

By dwelling on all the “what-ifs.” By playing out all of the possible outcomes. By trying to prevent problems that may never happen. By worrying about things that literally can’t happen.

We let our worries run away with us. So we over-plan. So much so that we can get lost in our plans. Losing sight of why we were even planning, until the plans become an end to themselves.

And our stress, our anxiety just keeps ratcheting up. Higher and higher.

Or we can follow the Gospel model.

Let go of the “what-ifs.” Trust God’s plan. Receive the peace that comes with that trust.

Know that God has nothing but the best in mind for us. That God’s best is everything we need. And better than we could ever imagine.

Everything you need? God has already provided for it.

Everything you’re worried about? God has already taken care of it.

The question is whose plan will you follow to handle all of that?

The answer comes down to who you trust.

Not who we say we trust. But who we really trust – as revealed by what we actually do.

Are we going to ignore all of the times we’ve come up short, all of the times that our plans have failed, and trust ourselves? Or are we going to trust the One who never fails?

Whose plan will it be? Who do you really trust?

Today’s Readings

[momentsbeforemass]

The List

It’s easy to check out when the reading is a list of names.

Like today’s Gospel, which lists the names of the Twelve Apostles. Some of them are familiar. Others? Not so much.

Whenever there’s a list in the Gospels, it’s there for a reason. If not a number of reasons.

To me, the most compelling reason for this list? The list of the people that Jesus hand-picked as His Apostles? Is who they are. And who they aren’t.

To throw a few labels on them, we’ve got a bunch of fishermen. One of them is the king of overpromising and underperforming. Two more of them are completely full of themselves.

There are traitors to their own people – collecting taxes to fund a foreign power’s occupation of their land. Add in a revolutionary, a skeptic, and a thief.

If you were assembling a list of the best and the brightest. People with power and influence. People you would trust with something important. None of them would be on that list.

That’s who they were when Jesus called them.

We know from the rest of the New Testament how things will work out. About God’s call for their lives, and who they will become.

But we also know from the Gospels everything that they will mess up. All of the mistakes. All the times they’ll say exactly the wrong thing. And even the betrayals.

Everything that they will get wrong on the road to becoming who God called them to be.

Knowing all of this about them (because He’s God), Jesus calls them. Because Jesus knows something about them that they don’t – not yet.

That if they keep their focus on Him, when they stumble and fall (and they will), He will help them get back up. He will help them pick up the pieces.

Jesus will give them the grace and the strength to try again. To take another step closer to Him.

That if they keep their focus on Him, Jesus won’t give up on them. No matter how many times they stumble and fall.

There are two things for us to know. First, this isn’t a special deal, something that happened once, just for the Apostles. And second, God’s call isn’t just for the Apostles. Or even clergy.

God calls each one of us. To draw close, into a deeper relationship with Him. To do the good that He has called us to do. To become who He made us to be.

From our perspective, that can seem kind of overwhelming. Because you and I know our own shortcomings and failures, all too well. We know that, if we’re trying to follow God’s call for our lives, at a certain point, we’re going to mess it up. We’re going to get it wrong. 

But you who else knows this about us? God.

God knows all of this about us. And knowing all of that, God still calls us.

With the same love that flowed through His call of the Apostles.

God is telling us that if we keep our focus on Him, when we stumble and fall (and we will), God will help us get back up. God will help us pick up the pieces. In case you wondered what Reconciliation was all about.

God will give us the grace and the strength to try again. To take another step closer to Him.

If we keep our focus on God, God won’t give up on us. No matter how many times we stumble and fall.

Today’s Readings

[momentsbeforemass]

Trolls

Think of the best thing you’ve done lately.

Maybe for a family member, maybe for a stranger. Whether it was planned, whether it was spontaneous.

It kind of doesn’t matter. Because if you posted something on your social media about it. Some troll would criticize it.

They might go after you for how you did it. Or because of who you did it for. Or because you were the one who did it. Or for even doing it at all.

It might be done through a meme or something that looks like humor. A joke that really isn’t a joke.

It might just be a direct attack. Not even pretending to be anything other than ugly.

However it happens, you and I know that it’s going to happen. It’s the most predictable thing on the Internet. It would only be remarkable if it didn’t happen.

But even though it’s that commonplace, it still draws us in. Why? Because even though we know it’s going to happen, it still hurts.

That’s why we’re tempted to stop what we’re doing. And respond. Usually in one of two ways.

Either we attack back. Stalk their profile. Find something to use against them. Or just make something up.

Or we try to appease them. By explaining how what we’re doing addresses their issues. Or by detailing how we’re going to change what we’re doing because of what they said.

Neither of those responses work. But both of them do tell us something. About ourselves.

As St. John Chrysostom puts it, “When you are vilified, if you quit doing good, you signify that you are seeking the praise of others, not the praise of God.”

Okay, so how should we respond? Like Jesus, in today’s Gospel.

Where Jesus gets criticized after delivering someone from demonic possession. The trolls go after how He did the good that He did. And manage to slur His character at the same time. Jesus was dealing with professional trolls.

His response? Not to bring up the fact that they were 38 years old and still living in their moms’ basements. Or point out that they had never lifted a finger to help anyone themselves. Much less change what He was doing, in a pointless attempt to appease them.

Jesus didn’t waste His time with any of that. Or with them at all.

Jesus went right on doing the good that God was calling Him to do. He didn’t even stop to acknowledge them.

Because there’s only one opinion that Jesus is concerned with. God’s.

The only opinion that we need to be concerned with. The only opinion that matters in the end.

Today’s Readings

[momentsbeforemass]

Perfect Faith

Dealing with the same problem over and over is hard.

Whether it’s a financial or job-related problem, a relationship problem, or a chronic health problem (like we see in today’s Gospel). It kind of doesn’t matter what kind of problem it is.

It’s the “over and over” part that makes it hard.

Because the longer you have to deal with it, the more it wears you down.

The longer you have to deal with it, the more desperate you get to just make it stop.

I bring this up, because this is the key to understanding Jesus in today’s Gospel. When He heals the woman who has been suffering hemorrhages for 12 years and says to her, “Courage, daughter! Your faith has saved you.”

If we hear that out of context – “your faith has saved you” – it’s easy to look at our own meager faith. To see how feeble it is, how fragile it is. To think that’s why we don’t see God doing things in our lives. And to wish we had this amazing faith like she does.

Which is why the context for “your faith has saved you” is so important. What kind of faith does she have?

She has the faith born of 12 years of being beat down by a chronic medical problem. Other Gospels tell us that she spent every that she had seeking a cure. None of them worked.

The kind of faith that she has? It’s one born of desperation. She has tried every way she knows to handle this on her own. None of it has worked. It’s only after she’s reached this dead end that she’s finally able to get over herself enough to ask God for help.

Sound familiar? If we’re honest, for most of us (myself included) it’s way too familiar. We are so into ourselves and handling things ourselves that we don’t even think about going to God with our problems.

And when we do? When we’re finally desperate enough to go to God for help? We’re like just like her. Unable to figure out whether we should throw ourselves at God or try to sneak up on Him from behind. Ending up doing some of both.

The best part? How Jesus responds.

That uncertain, stumbling reach towards God? That meager, threadbare faith born of desperation? That is what gets “your faith has saved you.” Which tells us what?

God loves you too much to wait for you to have perfect faith.

Today’s Readings