Moments Before Mass

Joyful | Practical | Catholic | #Deacon @SaintMeinrad alum

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Aim at something else

Happiness is one of the great conundrums of life.

We all want it. We’re miserable when we don’t have it. But it doesn’t take long to figure out that the literal “pursuit of happiness” doesn’t work. At least not directly.

If you want to actually be happy? Then you’ve got to aim at something else.

That’s because happiness is a byproduct.

There are a lot of different ideas about what happiness is a byproduct of. Some say it’s a byproduct of function and purpose, or helping others, or a life well-lived. There’s some truth in each of those.

Whichever way you go, the indirect route to happiness is a hard lesson to learn. But a crucial one. Not just for this life. But for eternity.

Because it helps us to understand, on the level of lived experience, what Jesus is telling us in today’s Gospel - “whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will preserve it for eternal life.”

That’s because our identity, who we are, doesn’t rest in this mortal life.

The point that Jesus is making is that our existence is so much more than the brief moment of this present season. The day will come for each of us when this present season will end and eternity will begin.

But, as Jesus is telling us, the pursuit of our eternity is indirect. Just like with happiness.

Do the things you and I do in this mortal life impact our eternity? Absolutely.

Which is the point of the Incarnation. To show us what the pursuit of our eternity looks like, through Jesus’ lived example (see “I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink…” for details).

It’s not the direct route. But it’s the only one that works.

And it’s why Jesus says, “whoever serves Me must follow Me, for where I am, there also will my servant be.”

That’s the call. And that’s promise. In this life and in eternity.

Today’s Readings

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Through

Think of the worst thing you’re dealing with right now. Whatever is just beating you up.

If you’re like me, you’ve got two basic approaches for dealing with that stuff. Ignore it. Try to act like it’s not there. Or stare at it. And think about it. Way too much.

Neither approach works.

Ignoring it just gives it time to get worse. Until you literally can’t ignore it.

Staring at it just makes it worse. Right. Now.

There is another option. It’s in today’s Gospel. Where Jesus says, “take up your cross, and follow me.”

Which can sound to our ears like the Church’s version of “suck it up, buttercup.”

But that’s not what Jesus is saying. Not at all.

Jesus is giving us a third way. Between doing nothing, so it can get worse on its own. Or obsessing, actively helping it to get worse.

What Jesus is saying to you and me is this,

    “Don’t ignore it. Don’t stare at it. Deal with it.

    But keep your eyes on Me.

    Follow My lead. We’ll do it together. One step at a time.

    Don’t worry about the what-ifs. I’ve got you.”

It’s the road – to calm in the middle of the storm.

It’s the recipe – for dealing with problems without getting beat up by them.

It’s the reason – why “the best way out is through.”

Today’s Readings

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Transfiguration

Today’s Gospel is the Transfiguration.

Where the Jesus that everyone knows, the one the Apostles have been with day in and day out. To the point that He’s just part of their normal. Is seen for who He really is.

God.

It’s something we need to be reminded to do. Often.

To look beyond appearances. To see who people really are. Starting with Jesus.

And then to look at each other, from His holy perspective, to see who all of us really are.

C.S. Lewis said it well:

“It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare.

All day long we are, in some degree, helping each other to one or other of these destinations.

It is in the light of these overwhelming possibilities, it is with the awe and circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics.

There are no ordinary people.

You have never talked to a mere mortal.

Nations, cultures, arts, civilization—these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat.

But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit—immortal horrors or everlasting splendors.

Next to the Blessed Sacrament itself, your neighbor is the holiest object presented to your senses.”

(In case you wondered just how far the whole “made in the likeness and image of God” thing goes.)

Today’s Readings

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Can't

One of the saddest things you’ll ever run into are people who can’t.

People who can’t do something. Not because they lack the ability. Not because they lack the means. But because they’ve talked themselves out of it.

Whether it’s talking themselves out of a relationship, talking themselves out of a better job, or talking themselves out of doing something good.

They’ve talked themselves out of even trying. Because they’ve told themselves that they can’t. So many times, that all they have left is “can’t.”

What’s even sadder? The defenders of “can’t.” People who have bought into their “can’t.” So deeply that they defend it against ever trying again.

But that’s not how it’s supposed to be. It’s not how God made us.

God made us for the long haul. God made us for persistence.

Sometimes we get what we need the first time we try. When that happens, count your blessings.

Most of the time, it doesn’t work that way. Most of the time, it’s more like what we see in today’s Gospel.

Where what is needed has nothing to do with the artificial, learned weakness of “can’t.”

Where what is needed is exactly what God made you for. Persistence.

Rooted in faith, in the God of “can.”

Grounded in trust, in God’s good timing.

Knowing that God will provide everything you need.

With the strength to be exactly who God made you to be. Persistence.

Today’s Readings

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You’re not stuck

Think about the worst times in your life.

Not the objectively worst times in your life. Comparing who had it worse is waste of time (not to mention a subtle form of pride).

What I want you to think about is personal. The specific facts aren’t that important. This is about your personal experience.

This is about when life punches down. On you. The times in life that are the worst. Because they hit you the hardest.

For most of us, the times in life that hit the hardest are the ones where we get lost in them. Where you and I get focused on whatever it is we’re dealing with. Whatever we’re trying to get through.

Truth be told, there is no situation in life that we cannot make worse for ourselves by focusing on it. To the point that we get lost in it.

But it’s hard not to do that. Especially when it’s something that we’ve told ourselves “I can’t” about.

Which is exactly what we see in today’s Gospel. With Peter stepping out of the boat to walk on the water to Jesus.

Focused on Jesus, Peter starts off doing what Jesus asks him to do. And for a moment, Peter is actually doing it.

Then Peter reminds himself, “I can’t do this.” Everything falls apart. And Jesus has to save Peter.

What happened?

Peter quit focusing on Jesus. Peter quit filling his heart with Jesus and His simple command, “Come.”

Peter started focusing on the wind and the waves. Peter started filling his heart with “I can’t.”

The whole time Peter was focused on Jesus? The whole time Peter was walking on the water? The wind and the waves were still there.

It doesn’t say, “and the sea became calm when Peter stepped out of the boat.”

Peter was dealing with them as he walked towards Jesus on the water. He wasn’t ignoring them. But he wasn’t focused on them.

But when Peter stops focusing on Jesus, and gets lost in what he’s dealing with? That’s when it all falls apart.

So here’s the roadmap. And the choice.

Deal with what you need to deal with – and it may be hard stuff, stuff you’ve told yourself “I can’t” about. But keep your focus on Jesus. And Jesus will see you through.

Or, make it worse. By taking your focus off Jesus. By filling yourself with “I can’t.” Focusing on whatever you’re dealing with, to the point that you get lost in it.

But know this – even if you do take your eyes off Jesus? Even if you do fill yourself with “I can’t?” You’re not stuck.

Jesus will be waiting to pull you out of it, just like He did with Peter. All you have to do is ask.

Today’s Readings

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Distraction

Why do you do what you do?

For most of us, our lived answer to that question is a muddled mess.

Mostly, we do what we do – not out of a conscious decision, much less a clear strategy. We do what we do out of an unstable mix of habit, inertia, distraction, and crisis response.

Bouncing ourselves from thing to thing, from reaction to reaction. With lots of motion.

But direction? Not so much.

If we could look down on what we’re doing from above, we would be hard-pressed to sort out a general trend. Much less any specific focus for all that motion.

So it shouldn’t surprise us that we’re easily pulled away towards whatever the next big thing is. Whether it’s a trend, or a crisis, or just something that catches our attention.

Which is why I love the scene from Peter’s life that we get in today’s Gospel. Because Peter is just like us.

Even in the face of a call from Jesus to come to Him. While Peter is responding to that call. Right in the middle of doing something that is literally miraculous (walking on water towards Jesus).

Peter still gets distracted.

Jesus is actually, physically right in front of him. And Peter still loses focus.

Let’s be clear about what’s going on here. The waves didn’t stop when Peter got out of the boat. The wind didn’t stop when Peter got out of the boat.

When Peter got out of the boat, Peter was focused on Jesus. And on doing what Jesus was calling him to do. While he was focused on Jesus, everything was fine.

Not because the waves died down. They didn’t.

Not because the wind died down. They didn’t.

But because Peter’s focus is where it needs to be. On Jesus.

Things go sideways only when Peter lets himself get distracted by the very things that Jesus is seeing him through. When Peter loses his focus on Jesus.

When we lose our focus and things go sideways in life, it can be hard to ask for help. There’s a lot of fear that whoever we ask won’t help. Not that they aren’t able to help. But that they won’t.

That they would rather judge us instead. Tell us how we did it to ourselves. Blame us for our own problems.

Not that we don’t already know this. We’re crushingly aware of it. We don’t need to have our noses rubbed in it. What we need is help.

That’s why I love how Jesus responds. When Peter cries out for help.

With actual help. Jesus pulls him into the boat. And says, “Oh you of little faith, why did you doubt?”

Which is Jesus’ way of saying, “Don’t waste your time worrying, I’ve got this.”

The same way that Jesus always responds. Whenever you and I cry out for help.

Today’s Readings

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Last night

I was talking with God about you last night.

I started to tell Him about all you were dealing with right now. About everything that’s weighing on you. Everything that’s breaking your heart.

He said to tell you that He knows how much it hurts.

And that your heart will always be safe in His.

 I was talking with God about you last night.

I started to tell Him about how alone you feel sometimes. Like everything and everyone is at a distance. Even Him.

He said to tell you that He will never abandon you.

Even when you can’t feel Him there.

 I was talking with God about you last night.

He said to tell you that He loves you.

  Today’s Readings

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Try again

There’s no coming back.

You’ve done too much. You’re too far gone.

There’s no way God would ever take you back, much less forgive you.

These are some of the Enemy’s most effective lies when it comes to keeping us away from God after something has gone wrong in our lives.

It kind of doesn’t matter whether was something that we did to ourselves. Something that was done to us. Or something that just happened.

Once we see it this way, once we see ourselves this way, we close ourselves off from God’s mercy, love, and forgiveness.

I think we’re vulnerable to this for a couple of reasons.

First, there are people who claim to be “Christians” who are all too happy to condemn things they don’t like about others. Even though a moment’s thought reveals their over-eagerness to condemn as (1) proof that they’re not really Christians (no matter how much they may think they are) and (2) evidence of what they hate about themselves, there’s something about that abuse of the Faith that stays with us. That leaves a mark.

And we’re protecting our pride. By claiming that we’re too far gone, then we can (falsely) excuse ourselves from the hard work of admitting that we were wrong and trying to change. Because that’s a blow to our egos. That leaves a mark too.

The real problem, of course, is that’s not who God is. That’s not how God works.

In today’s first reading, Jeremiah shows us an image of who God really is. Of how God really works, “I went down to the potter’s house and there he was, working at the wheel. Whenever the object of clay which he was making turned out badly in his hand, he tried again.”

Jeremiah is showing us how God sees us. In God’s eyes, there is no such thing as too far gone. No one is ever beyond God’s mercy, love, and forgiveness.

God never gives up on us. Even when we have. The door of God’s heart is always open.

But make no mistake, God isn’t just willing to try again with you.

God wants to try again with you.

God loves you too much to ever throw you away.

Today’s Readings

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The nicest box

I hate Martha.

[Today’s Gospel is one of the Martha and Mary stories. And I hate Martha.]

Not because she’s a bad person. Or because she’s doing something bad. She isn’t. And she isn’t.

I hate Martha because she’s a mirror. At least for me anyway. I see way too much of myself, way too much of my baggage in Martha.

And I really would prefer not to deal with – well – any of my baggage. Thank you very much.

Today’s Martha isn’t the overworked responsible child who resented her sister, Mary. The one who got the gentlest rebuke ever given by Jesus (“Martha, Martha, you are worried about many things.”).

This is Martha 2.0. This is the Martha who took that to heart. And now her first impulse is faith. Not complaining.

Martha’s brother, Lazarus, has died. Martha is grieving, crying on Jesus’ shoulder.

Can’t ask for a better shoulder to cry on.

Martha’s asking Jesus to raise her brother from the dead. Asking for something she doesn’t really believe will happen, as it turns out.

Because when Jesus says that He will raise her brother from the dead? Martha suddenly shifts from the intimate and the personal to the distant and the remote.

Martha starts talking about the inevitable resurrection of everybody at the final judgment.

Martha is confessing one of the truths of the Faith. It’s one of the four last things. Christ-centered. Doctrinally sound.

And completely walled-off from what she’s actually dealing with in her own life.

Without meaning to, Martha has closed herself off from the very real help offered by the One whose shoulder she is crying on.

Martha has put God in the nicest box ever.

Which is why I hate her. Because she reminds me that I do this. All. The. Time.

Instead of letting the Faith give me the perspective I need. Instead of letting prayer be a source of comfort and strength. Instead of talking with God.

I talk about God. And imagine that it’s the same thing.

I put God in the nicest box. And then wonder why I’m not seeing God at work in my life right now.

That’s because it’s hard to see what’s up close. If you’re only looking at what’s far away. It’s hard to see what’s happening right now. If you’re only looking at the future.

The truth is that God isn’t just the God of the future. Of the sweet by and by. Where everything is set to rights.

God is also the God of now. Where things fall apart. Where the hard work of today is done.

That’s the God who loves you. That’s the God who wants to hear from you. Not someday, but now.

Right when you need Him the most.

Because the God who loves you has dirt under His fingernails.

Today’s Readings

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Not your story to tell

One of the signs that you are an adult is having adult realizations.

Moments of clarity. About things that only adults understand.

Sometimes our adult realizations don’t really matter. But they still mark us as adults.

Like having a favorite burner on the stove (lower right, the only correct answer – fight me).

But other times, adult realizations can be soul crushing.

Like realizing that you are the villain in someone’s story.

No matter how you see yourself. No matter what you do or how hard you try. No matter how objectively good and kind and loving you truly are. No matter who’s really to blame.

There’s someone who used to be your friend. There’s a relationship that didn’t work out. There’s someone you let down. And a thousand other ways it happens. All of them leading to the same thing.

You are the villain in someone’s story.

The reason this adult realization hits so hard? There’s nothing you can do about it.

No matter how much they mean to you. No matter how close you used to be. No matter how wrong or unjust it might be.

There’s nothing you can do about it. Because it’s not your story to tell.

You’ve already lost the relationship that’s behind their story. And now you get to lose out on moments and connections with everyone who gets to hear the story – the one where you’re the villain.

It’s a lose-lose situation. And you’re doing all the losing.

There’s only one time that I know of when this dynamic works in our favor – when it comes to God.

No matter how you see yourself. No matter what you did or how long it’s been. No matter how objectively small and petty and vain you truly are. No matter who’s really to blame.

You are the beloved in God’s story.

No matter how hard you’ve pushed God away. No matter how far away you think are. No matter how much you don’t deserve it.

You are the beloved in God’s story.

And there’s nothing you can do about it. Because it’s not your story to tell.

Today’s Readings

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It takes time

Nothing starts the way it finishes.

Nothing that matters, anyway.

The important things in life start off unimpressive, unnoticed, unimportant. And then slowly grow and change – almost imperceptibly at times.

We love the idea of the quick fix, the flash of inspiration, the overnight success.

But reality is more like the old quote (one that’s been attributed to Jeff Bezos, Tom Clancy, and a dozen other people) – “overnight success takes about 10 years.” At least.

That’s how life really works. And that’s the principle that Jesus is showing us in today’s Gospel.

It’s a truth that’s easy to see. And hard to live with.

Especially when it comes to the things that really matter to us. Whether we’re trying to improve our health, battle an addiction, build a relationship, get out of debt, or just trying to be better human beings.

It’s not going to happen overnight. It takes time.

And that gets frustrating. Because it’s more than just slow going.

For most of us, it’s not a straight line, a steady rise over time. More like two steps forward-one step back. On a good day.

The point of Jesus’ parables about the mustard seed and the yeast? That God knows this about us.

God knows that we’re not always going to get it right. That sometimes we get stuck. Sometimes we head off in the wrong direction.

And even if we are headed in the right direction, sometimes it looks like nothing is happening.

God knows this about us. All of it.

But there’s something that you and I need to know about God.

God loves you enough to wait for you. And God loves you too much to let you to struggle alone.

It’s why God will always help you pick up the pieces and try again. If you’ll let Him.

If you’ve ever wondered why the Sacrament of Reconciliation is infinitely repeatable, this is why.

Even if you’ve lost track of it all. Even if it looks like nothing will ever change. Even if you’ve given up – on you, on God, or both.

God is calling you to start again. With Him.

Because God knows that the important things in life start off unimpressive, unnoticed, unimportant.

And God loves you too much to give up on you.

Today’s Readings

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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

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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

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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

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On the outside looking in

One of the hardest things in life is being on the outside looking in.

Whether it’s because you’re from the wrong town. Or the wrong country.

Whether it’s because you like the wrong people. Or you are the wrong people.

Whether it’s because you’re not like everyone else. Or you’re just not part of the group.

The specifics aren’t that important. Because whatever it is that puts you on the outside looking in – hits you. And it hits hard.

To get past that, you’re going to have to get out of your comfort zone. To take a risk. To let someone actually get to know you. To become vulnerable.

It’s the only way to get past that. To run the risk of someone else’s response. To you.

And all of us know, whether we like to think about it or not, that sometimes that other person’s response to us will only make things worse.

But it can never get better, we can never get past being stuck on the outside looking in, if we don’t take the risk.

Which can lead to a kind of paralysis. A fear of failure if you try. And a fear of failure for not trying. It’s an emotional lose-lose. Where we get stuck.

What if – before you ever tried – you knew how someone else was going to react? And you knew that it was going to be good? What if you knew that you couldn’t lose?

Would you take the risk then?

This is what Jesus is speaking to in today’s Gospel.

That moment of vulnerability. With its risk of paralysis. To let us know in advance how God will react if we make ourselves vulnerable to Him. To let us know that it’s going to be good.

To let us know that when we make ourselves known to God, God sees us as family.

Let’s be clear, this is not something that you and I earn by doing some list of stuff perfectly. God doesn’t hold back His love.

This is something that happens from the moment you take your first stumbling step towards Him, towards Home. God sees you as family.

Because the simple truth is that your first stumbling step towards Him, towards Home?

Is everything that God has been waiting for. Since before you were born. With the very love that brought you into being.

Haven’t you waited long enough? Haven’t you done without long enough?

Come. It’s time to turn our steps towards Home.

Today’s Readings

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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