Plunge into the Wounds of Christ

“Shepherd your people with your staff,

 the flock of your inheritance,

That dwells apart in a woodland,

In the midst of Carmel.” Micah 7:14-15

We are His people that dwells apart in a woodland. Let’s unpack that!  Dwell… this is our way of life, to be apart in a woodland. Apart… most of the time it means living counter-cultural.  In a woodland… this is where God speaks. ( Midbar “in the woodland/wilderness” comes from the root dabar “Word.” ) We are apart because we are in the wilderness, listening to Him, sitting in the presence of the Lord.

Do you dwell apart in the woodland?  Go into the wilderness with Jesus.

Be like Micah; beg the Lord to shepherd you with His staff.

But how can we be His people?  I have run far from His path.  I have let the cares and riches of this world choke me. I bear wounds from rejection, ridicule, and pieces of me have been torn away by false loves.

It hurts…  But guess what?  Jesus has wounds too.  Look at His hands, look into His hands.  The bloody, muscular hands have a piece torn away, displaced by the nail.  Put yourself in His hands and kiss the bloody tissue, experience rest.

The spear that the soldier plunged into His side was no clean-edged Leatherman.  Pull back on the jagged spear, drag His flesh and skin, and soak your face and body in the blood and water.  Lick your lips and taste His blood.  His wounds have power to heal ours.

The Lord is kind and merciful. Plunge into His merciful love.

Hope, people of God.  Through the Cross is the Resurrection.  Dwell apart in the woodland, and our Shepherd will lead us into the way of everlasting life.

I love you, Jesus, my Love. Grant that I may love you always and then do with me as you will. (from Stations of the Cross)

~Martha McAdams

About the Author

Hi there!  My name is Martha McAdams.  I’m a Neuro Medical-Surgical nurse in Savannah with a passion for Theology, which was my major at the University of Dallas. I love earthworms, banana bread, and tea, but not all at the same time. Statesboro is my fun-stop on the drive from Savannah to Augusta (home). 

Envy, Fear, Jesus, Love

In today’s readings, we hear about jealous brothers and jealous pharisees. In the first reading, Joseph’s brothers plot to kill him because they recognize that their father loves Joseph best. In the Gospel, Jesus tells the chief priest that “the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people that will produce its fruit.”

Envy is a dangerous thing. It makes us act in ways we couldn’t imagine we’d ever act. And it’s a funny thing, because envy can be disguised in many different ways. Agitation with someone else, frustration, impatience. These can sometimes have envy at the root.

How many times have I been annoyed with someone only to discover (if I am willing to be honest with myself) that the true cause of my feelings is some form of envy, even if very slight.

If, then, I’m willing to go a little further, my reflections will reveal that envy is usually caused by my own insecurities, my own fear of failure, my own feelings of unworthiness.

When I find myself suffering from envy, I generally find that behind this envy is fear -- fear that I’m not as good as I should be, that I’m not succeeding in the areas I hope to, that I’m unnoticed and unloved.

What is the answer to fear? What is the solution to feeling small and unworthy? Jesus!

If I can be honest with myself about my envy or fear or of feeling small, then I can also be honest with the Lord. When I realize (or can admit) that my negative feelings towards others come from my own human weakness, I gently (or maybe not so gently!) give it back to God.

“All my ambitions, hopes and plans” goes the popular Gospel song, “I surrender these into your hands. For it’s only in Your will that I am free.”

What is the antidote to envy? Humility. Letting go. Giving it all back to God. Never forget to trust that Jesus’ love for you is deeper and wider and more profound than your human heart can hope to comprehend. In Jesus, there is no need to fear. In him, there is never ending love.

-Rachel Balducci

Litany of Humility

O Jesus! meek and humble of heart, Hear me.

From the desire of being esteemed, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being loved, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being extolled, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being honored, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being praised, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being preferred to others, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being consulted, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being approved, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being humiliated, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being despised, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of suffering rebukes, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being calumniated, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being forgotten, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being ridiculed, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being wronged, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being suspected, Deliver me, Jesus.

That others may be loved more than I, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may be esteemed more than I, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That, in the opinion of the world, others may increase and I may decrease, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may be chosen and I set aside, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may be praised and I unnoticed, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may be preferred to me in everything, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may become holier than I, provided that I may become as holy as I should, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

About the Author

Rachel Balducci loves Jesus, her husband Paul and her six babies (five boys and one little princess). She is a columnist for The Southern Cross, and co-host ofThe Gist, a talk show for women on CatholicTV. Find her at Testosterhome.net where she reflects on how doing the laundry will, Lord willing, make her a saint.

If I Were A Rich Man...

“There was a rich man who dressed in purple garments and fine linen and dined sumptuously each day. And lying at his door was a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who would gladly have eaten his fill of the scraps that fell from the rich man’s table.”  -Luke 16:19

At first glance, it would seem that the rich man in today’s Gospel goes to hell simply for being rich, while Lazarus goes to the “bosom of Abraham” simply for being poor. But the message of Jesus’ parable goes much deeper than that.

In medieval Catholic tradition, the rich man is known as Dives, which is simply the Latin word meaning “rich” (yeah, I know…real creative). Dives does not go to hell for being rich. Dives goes to hell for putting too much stock in his riches and allowing them to “turn his heart away from the Lord,” specifically from God’s will for his life.

Everything with which God blesses us is good, and this includes material wealth. Wealth, like any gift from God, is meant to be used in accordance with His will.  Money is sometimes necessary to accomplish a certain good. God might bless a person with wealth because He has a specific good in mind for that person to do with his wealth, a mission to accomplish. It would seem this was the case with Dives. Perhaps God gave him his wealth just so he could help Lazarus with it. But Dives does not even go so far as to give Lazarus the scraps which “fell from the rich man’s table.” He selfishly keeps everything for himself, even that which he cannot actually use. He would be right at home in our materialistic 21^st century culture of wastefulness and “#first-world problems”

The poor man died and was carried by the angels to Abraham’s bosom. The rich man also died, and was buried. There is a poignant finality to the way St. Luke goes out of his way to point out that Dives “was buried.” My pastor back home likes to say, “You never see a U-Haul behind a hearse.” The most tragic part of the parable of Dives and Lazarus, is that, by putting his selfish desires before God’s will for his wealth, Dives trades eternal bliss for temporary happiness. He cannot take any of his belongings with him into the next life. For Dives, who put so much stock in the things of the world, life is truly over with his burial.

How well do we use our “purple and fine linen,” the gifts with which God has blessed us? Do we use them for the good which God intended, or are we wasteful like Dives? Almsgiving is probably the most forgotten of the three components of a holy Lent. Of course, most college students are hardly rich like Dives, but we should still try to do something, especially for the hungry like Lazarus. If we have the chance, we might buy a meal for a poor person, or we could skip lunch on a certain day and put the money we would have spent in the poor box at church. Most importantly, we should pray that we may use the gifts which God has given us for His glory and not hold on to passing things. 

About the Author

Thomas McIntyre is a 2012 graduate of Georgia Southern University. He has recently returned to his alma mater to pursue a Master’s Degree in History, and is in his first semester as a graduate student. In addition to classical and ecclesiastical history, his interests include theology, philosophy, dead languages and classic rock music. 

You do not know what you are asking

You do not know what you are asking.

In the Gospel today James and John have mommy ask their Rabbi, whom they are pretty sure is the Messiah, if they can be his favorites once He gets what’s His.  Likely, their vision of what this would be involves them sitting in splendor and glory at Jesus’ side looking and feeling pretty awesome.  James and John have already seen the Transfiguration (though they’re not allowed to tell anyone), so they had a sense of what that glory will be like.

Only Jesus knows perfectly what their motives were for asking this: whether it was pride, excessive zeal and excitement, or something better like a desire to be near him, to be closest to him. 

Whatever it was, his answer applies: “You do not know what you are asking:”  In spite of the fact that back in their days at Capernaum, he had illustrated true greatness by showing them a child (Matt 18:4), they haven’t caught on. They’re asking him to give them things according to their ideas, according to their perception of the way things should be.  So he warns them: you don’t see the whole picture, you don’t really know what that means: it means something different in your vision than it means in mine (which is the truth, since I’m God).

Are you able to drink the Chalice that I am to drink?

Jesus’ answer doesn't end there: he finishes it with a question: “Are you able to drink the chalice that I am to drink?”

Looking forward to the next time Jesus talks about a cup or chalice he is going to drink (Matt 26:39) we see Him in the Garden of Gethsemane, praying to the Father.  And the way he thinks about that chalice teaches us something about how we should ask things of God: not my will, but yours be done.

When we pray, we model after Jesus.  We should ask God for what our hearts desire.  Jesus did this, even asking to be spared the Crucifixion.   But the words he finished that prayer with made all the difference.  They should be part of our every prayer: not my will, but yours be done.

This not my will, but yours shouldn't be just a caveat we add to our prayers so that we’re “doing it right”, or even just display of deference to God.  It should well up from a disposition of our heart, an attitude brought about by the realization that no matter what we want, what God wants is best, and if what God wants is best, then what’s to keep us from praying for it with all our heart? 

So we come to him asking for all the things on our heart, but we move in the direction of trust and dependence, saying:

You know infinitely, so you know what I want even better than I do; you love infinitely, so you want what’s best for me; you are infinitely powerful, so you can do it: so what could I ever want except that your will be done?

-Tony Visintainer