Category: Discerning the will and action of God in our lives

Don’t Be Shellish!

From now I announce new things to you,
   hidden events you never knew.
Now, not from old, they are created,
   Before today you did not hear of them,
   so that you cannot claim, “I have known them.”
You never heard, you never knew,
   they never reached your ears beforehand.
                    (Isaiah 48:6b-8a)

   Jeweled eggs created by the firm of Fabergé from the days of the Russian Empire are sold today for tens of thousands of dollars. They’re not real eggs, of course, merely egg shaped.
   Real eggs are fragile, and their shells are meant to be breakable (though they sometimes are hardboiled and decorated for Easter). It’s amazing how long something as fragile as an egg shell remains intact.
   Shells are simply the first stage in the development of a new little bird (or platypus!)—and they have to be broken if new life is to emerge.
   Figuratively speaking, growth and development always involve a sort of breaking and loss of what once was—and even very necessary in its time—so that life may go on and flourish.
   We may love and cherish a particular stage of our life, but inevitably we need to move on—even though the change may involve a shattering and leaving behind of what was  loved and prized.
   The joy—and pain—of living involves change, gradual or sudden, minor or major, and particular stages of our lives and of the world we live in can’t be frozen or preserved permanently. (Embalming is only for the dead!)
   Sometimes we yearn for an imagined past, imagined, because often memories tend to be somewhat selective and edited; we may emphasize the pleasurable and satisfying parts of the past, overlooking or minimizing what was unpleasant or painful.

   The few verses from Isaiah (quoted initially) allude to the wonderful, unfamiliar, novel things that God has in store for us.
   When we appeal to God, ask for help, pray, we are inviting divine intervention—change! And, often God’s responses regarding our personal or family lives or the whole world are initially disturbing to us and even upsetting—because of their newness.
   For the little bird or platypus to live, to grow and develop, they must break through the fragile shell that encases them. And, this is a metaphor for each of us and for all the world we live in.
   It’s hard to yearn for the unknown, since what we do not know and have not experienced can be frightening prospects—but that’s life!
   Some changes in our lives are desired and yet, even so, disturbing. like graduations, marriage, and moving to a new place or getting a new job.
   Some events in our lives come upon us gradually and subtly; other can be so sudden and unforeseen that our instinctive reaction is to reject them and recoil—even though, later, we may come to appreciate, celebrate, and thank God for them.
   Beware of a life of faith, for it invites and welcomes divine intervention. And when God acts in our lives and in our world, our first reaction often is to try to avoid the changes God’s intervention demands.
   A life of faith requires strength and courage, a willingness to let go even of our favorite things, a repeated plunging into the unknown or even undesired.
   Life and faith involve constantly breaking out of shells, letting go, and entrusting ourselves to God whose love ever guides us.


16 January 2022

Sing Alleluia!

Let us sing alleluia here on earth, while we still live in anxiety, so that we may sing it one day in heaven in full security…
   Even here amidst trials and tribulations let us, let all, sing alleluia. “God is faithful”, says holy Scripture, “and he will not allow you to be tried beyond your strength”, So let us sing alleluia, even here on earth…
   O the happiness of the heavenly alleluia, sung in security, in fear of no adversity! We shall have no enemies in heaven, we shall never lose a friend. God’s praises are sung both there and here, but here they are sung in anxiety, there, in security; here they are sung by those destined to die, there, by those destined to live for ever; here they are sung in hope, there, in hope’s fulfillment; here they are sung by wayfarers, there, by those living in their own country…
   You should sing as wayfarers do—sing, but continue your journey. Do not be lazy, but sing to make your journey more enjoyable. Sing, but keep going. What do I mean by keep going? Keep on making progress. This progress, however, must be in virtue,…true faith and right living…
(Saint Augustine)

   (“Alleluia” or “hallelujah” comes from the same Hebrew word meaning literally “Praise Yahweh”—i.e., “Praise God” or “Praise the Lord.”)
   Maybe here and now is not entirely a matter of anxiety, trials, and tribulations. but it may not be much to sing about! But, that’s the whole point. What is difficult to bear, to endure, is helped by the prospects of things getting better, of great expectations.
   We’re not stuck in the mud, imprisoned in in helplessness, doomed to a life of emptiness, meaninglessness, hopelessness, grief, and pain.

   We’re en route, we’re on our way to a promised land. We’re strengthened by our anticipations. We struggle on in hope.
   No matter what, we sing in our hearts—we sing alleluia! We thank and praise God because we trust that he will not let us be tried beyond our strength, we trust that God has a destination for us to hope for, we endure as we journey to the promised land.
   How can I sing with so many anxieties, trials, adversities, insecurities, difficulties, and even enemies? That’s the whole point!
   You may sing, praise God, with thanksgiving for life and so many present good things—but the greatest joy and gladness lies in the trust that you have a wonderful future and that, slowly but surely, no matter what, you are on your way there.
   The great temptation of hopelessness is well described by Shakespeare in Hamlet’s famous soliloquy:

To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;…
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;…

   Alas, poor Hamlet—you never learned to sing alleluia.


2 January 2022

Ransomed, Healed, Restored, Forgiven

Praise, my soul, the King of heaven;
To his feet your tribute bring;
Ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven,
Evermore his praises sing . . .
             (from Lauda Anima)

To be clear about the conditions referred to when we sing the hymn, we’re praising God because we’re totally and completely liberated, exonerated, and once again given a fresh start. We use powerful words:
   Ransomed:  1. redeemed from captivity, bondage, detention etc., by paying a demanded price.  2. delivered or redeemed from punishment for sin.
   Healed:  1. made healthy, whole, or sound; restored to health; free from ailment.  2. brought to an end or conclusion as conflicts between peoples or groups, usually with the strong implication of restoring former amity; settled; reconciled.  3. freed from evil; cleansed; purified.
   Restored:  1. brought back into existence, use, or the like; reestablished.  2. brought back to a former, original, or normal condition, as a building, statue, or painting.  3. brought back to a state of health, soundness, or vigor.  4. put back to a former place, or to a former position, rank, etc..  5. given back; made return or restitution of (anything taken away or lost).  6. reproduced or reconstructed (an ancient building, extinct animal, etc.) in the original state.
   Forgiven:  1. granted pardon for or remission of (an offense, debt, etc.); absolved.  2. gave up all claim on account of remittance of (a debt, obligation, etc.).  3. granted pardon to (a person).  4. ceased to feel resentment against:  5. canceled an indebtedness or liability of.
   If ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven, we’re in really good shape. All that pulls us back or pulls us down is gone and over with. There are no more claims upon us, no more unpleasant consequences to face.

   There is nothing to fear any more. The guilt and paralysis is gone. The slate is wiped clean. We have a fresh start.
   Truly, it is appropriate to sing songs of praise and gratitude—to move on with great expectations because of the mercy, pardon, and promise of the Lord.
   You know what? Much of the time we don’t do it! We don’t praise God, with free hearts and spirits, delighting in a new start. Perversely, we often have a fatal fascination with our weaknesses, failures, and losses.
   Why are so drawn to look into the mirror of our life—of our limited, flawed life with its history of missed opportunities and poor performances, of nursing of wounds to pride and ego, of lamentations of our many and constant failures, of damages done great and small, of withdrawals and self-defeats?
   Face it! We are all limited and weak creatures. Except for a special grace of God, our lives are imperfect, riddled with exaggerations, evasions, misrepresentations, failures, mistakes, and faults.
   God knows! He knows us, better than we do, and our responsibility for our frequent blindness, indifference, pretense, falsification, and selfishness.
   God forgives! Even so, we often find it hard, if not impossible, to forgive ourselves with our wounded pride.
   God made us to be what we are, human creatures. God is not blind to our failures, but God is merciful.
   What foolish pride it is that we never cease looking at ourselves and our weaknesses and rarely look at and sing the astoundingly generous and undeserved pardon, mercy, and love of God, who repeatedly ransoms, heals, restores, and forgives us.


26 December 2021

God and Me? Me and God?

   O God, you are my God—
       it is you I seek!
   For you my body yearns;
      for you my soul thirsts.

   This verse (Psalm 63:2) is an evocative description of the human condition—a restless thirsting, hungering, searching for meaning, purpose, and fulfillment.
   Please notice, though, that the starting point is God. We’re not journeying through life like an explorer in a wilderness. Life is not a long-term, trying expedition to satisfy our wander/wonder lust. We’re not discoverers stumbling upon, unearthing a great trove of beautiful ideas or artifacts, evidence of some past glory.
   Remember the Baltimore Catechism question, “Why Did God Make You? The answer was, “God made me to know Him, to love Him, and to serve Him in this world, and to be happy with Him for ever in heaven.”
   There, also, the starting point is God, but the focus seems to be more on us than on God—at least in the sense that it gives a short list of our obligations to God, the things that we have to do to achieve being “happy with him for ever in heaven.”
   What do we do when we go to confession? We don’t “confess” (in the sense of proclaim) the mercy and wonder of God’s love and providence, We “confess” in some detail our failings, inadequacies, misdeeds, and sins. Sure, it’s primarily about offending God, but the focus is still mostly on ourselves!
   Is our story more about God and Me or about Me and God? It seems like the main focus is Me.
   To quote again (Psalm 63:9):

   My soul clings fast to you;
       your right hand upholds me.

   My clinging is feeble. God holds me fast.

   St. Therese of the Child Jesus recalled that once a priest told her that her falling asleep during prayer was due to a want of fervor and fidelity and that she should be desolate over it. She had replied, “I am not desolate. I remember that little children are just as pleasing to their parents when they are asleep as when they are awake.”
   Often children think that they somehow earn their parents love and care by their good behavior, although they are loved and cared for long before they’ve matured enough to wrestle with disobedience.
   For St. Therese, clearly the starting point in her life story was God. It was about God and Me, not Me and God! It’s about the wonder of his making of each of us, of the many gifts he has given each of us, about his guiding of each of our lives, about the beauty and marvel of the world in which God has placed each of us to live.
   Okay, we can’t overlook all our blindness, indifference, selfishness, and stupidity over the years. We can’t pretend that all our inappropriate acts never happened, that all our offenses did no harm.
   But, we can’t wallow in their remembrance forever. For God’s sake, why should we be more fascinated with our failings then with God’s continuing mercy, love, forgiveness, and new empowerments. Our life story is not about Me and God, but God and Me.

For your love is better than life;
   my lips shall ever praise you!
I will bless you as long as I live;
   I will lift up my hands, calling on your name.
You indeed are my savior,
   and in the shadow of your wings I shout for joy. (Psalm 63:4-5,8)

  

21 November 2021

Levi Alphaeusson

As Jesus passed on from there, he saw a man named Matthew sitting at the customs post. He said to him, “Follow me.” And he got up and followed him. (Matthew 9:9)
   As he passed by, he saw Levi, son of Alphaeus, sitting at the customs post. He said to him, “Follow me.” And he got up and followed him. (Mark 2:14)
   After this he went out and saw a tax collector named Levi sitting at the customs post. He said to him, “Follow me.” And leaving everything behind, he got up and followed him. (Luke 5:27-28)

   Either he must have been such an important person or his being selected by Jesus must have been so surprising, if not shocking, that this event is mentioned in three of the Gospels.
   Of course one of the Gospels is according to Matthew (Levi’s Christian name), so it’s understandable that he would have alluded to his first encounter with Jesus.
   But the fact that he was working as a tax collector for either the local Jewish ruler (Herod Antipas) who was a Roman collaborator or for the Roman conquerors themselves made him an outcast, if not a traitor, in his own, Jewish community.
   One thing that stands out about the story of Jesus’ calling him was the immediate nature of Levi’s response. No thinking it over, no preliminary visit to learn more about Jesus and his teaching, no submission of a resignation to his boss nor waiting for a replacement.
   The next thing that stands out and is reported in all three Gospels is that Levi organizes a dinner at his house for a lot of his fellow workers and friends—by Jewish standards, sinners all—and Jesus comes!
   The Pharisees, righteous, orthodox Jews, are shocked and horrified that a religious teacher like Jesus should be there.

   Consorting with Gentiles is bad enough, but sitting and dining together with the likes of this group of collaborators, “sinners”, goes beyond the limits of acceptable behavior for the Pharisees.
   Worst of all, Jesus is unapologetic! Referencing what the prophet Hosea (6:6) said about God desiring mercy, not sacrifice, Jesus states that “I did not come to call the righteous but sinners.” (Matthew 9:13)
   Jesus’ behavior was so shocking for the Pharisees, who were the really devout Jews of Jesus’ day, that, to say the least, they were puzzled how such a person could be speaking the words of God.
   And, Levi’s behavior had been equally shocking for all parties concerned. Dropping all things, abandoning his post and position, asking no questions, responding on the spot to Jesus’ two-word summons, “Follow me”, seemed, to say the least, an impulsive and thoughtless act that risked his future if not his life itself.
   When I was young I was deeply inspired by all this to imitate Levi. Now, very much older, more experienced, more cautious about risky and sudden decisions, I hope I still have the capacity to unquestioningly leave everything behind to follow him.
   Looking back on the course of my life, yes, I know that I did once boldly choose to do it, but how dangerously slow and careful I have become.
   I also know that someday I’ll be definitively confronted by that same radical decision, that same challenging demand to leave everything behind, even life itself, to follow him.
   May the old song still be in my heart, “Oh, Lord, I’m ready, indeed I’m ready, Oh, good Lord, I’ll be ready when the great day comes!”


7 November 2021

Insightfully Blind

When you think about it, the story of Bartimaeus’s encounter with Jesus in Mark 10:46-52 is curious. In a way, Bartimaeus already has more than he asks for:

They came to Jericho. And as he was leaving Jericho with his disciples and a sizable crowd, Bartimaeus, a blind man, the son of Timaeus, sat by the roadside begging. On hearing that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to cry out and say, “Jesus, son of David, have pity on me.” And many rebuked him, telling him to be silent. But he kept calling out all the more, “Son of David, have pity on me.” Jesus stopped and said, “Call him.” So they called the blind man, saying to him, “Take courage; get up, he is calling you.” He threw aside his cloak, sprang up, and came to Jesus. Jesus said to him in reply, “What do you want me to do for you?” The blind man replied to him, “Master, I want to see.” Jesus told him, “Go your way; your faith has saved you.” Immediately he received his sight and followed him on the way.

   You might say that he saw before he could see!
   The gospel story is clear. There was no doubt; the man was blind. He had to ask others who it was that was walking down the road that led from the town. But, as soon as he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he saw who it was.
   Never mind superficialities like how he was dressed or walked or talked—no matter. Was he short or tall, thin or fat, light or dark? Bartimaeus couldn’t “see” in the sense that his eyes did not work, but he had something greater—insight!
   He “saw” in the Nazarene a man of God. He “saw” in Jesus one with a divine power. He “saw” in this stranger the possibility of being healed and made new.

   And, what did Jesus recognize in this “blind” supplicant? That unlike so many others who saw him and were blind, this “blind” man had a deeper kind of vision. Jesus called it “faith”.
   Faith isn’t wishful thinking. Faith isn’t a kind of childish fantasy or imagination. Faith isn’t a sort of desperate groping in the dark. Faith is insight. Faith is discernment. Faith is certitude.
   This peculiar way of discernment and insight is not a matter of knowledge but of love and trust!
   Bartimaeus had certitude, no doubt whatsoever, that Jesus could heal him and give him physical vision. He was sure. He knew that Jesus could do it. He saw who Jesus really was.
   Crazy, wasn’t it? The “blind man” begging for vision saw far better than many an other who stood nearby with eyes wide open!
   But there’s more to the story: Bartimaeus’s insight—and Jesus’ gift—had consequences.
   Bartimaeus was now facing a fork in his life’s road: to follow the majority along the popular road that they thought they clearly saw or to take the narrower way that was harder to follow but for which he had insight and could really “see”.
   Jesus is an elusive guide to follow, not in that he is trying to deceive or mislead but in that his way, the right way, the best way, is a narrow path and needs to be traveled with great care and eyes wide open.
   To follow him isn’t a matter going with the flow. It requires not just sight but insight. It requires trust and confidence without reservations. It is a matter of faith.
   May the Lord tell each of us, “Go your way; your faith has saved you.”

24 October 2021

Look Where You’re Going!

Look out! Look ahead! Look back! Look what you did! Look lively! Look what you’re leaving behind! Look what’s in front of you!
   There are so many “looks” in our lives that there’s no possibility of doing all of them, but we to tend to favor one or another direction.
   Getting older, the temptation may be to indulge in a lot of looking back. It can be kind of negative if it’s a matter of bewailing the past. “I used to be able to …” or “I wish I could … again” or “Things used to be so great a long time ago”.
   On the other hand, it can be very positive, when we recall with pleasure, joy, gratitude, and thanksgiving the wonderful experiences or blessings we’ve enjoyed over the course of our lives.
   But, even getting older, we still are challenged to and need to look ahead. How sad it is to fear tomorrow and to do our best to keep our head in the sand.
   If we are living a life of faith, we have great expectations and even an impatient yearning for the future. Alas for us, if we can’t see anything ahead of us and have closed eyes and no hopes for tomorrow.
   Looking back from time to time to celebrate happy events, accomplishments, and achievements is only natural and a source of satisfaction and happiness—but it’s no excuse for not looking ahead.
   If we live, we are in forward motion. It’s shear folly to close our eyes and grit our teeth like one with no future at all. Look around all you want, but no matter what, don’t forget to look ahead!
   If you can’t see anything on your own when you try to look ahead, look for someone who can see to guide you on your way, dog or human!
   And, of course, it goes without saying that asking for help from the One who always knows the way forward ensures making headway in spite of all our limitations.

   Be careful not to confuse looking ahead with knowing what’s ahead. Looking ahead is a matter of hope and discerning our direction—but we don’t actually entirely know what’s ahead of us until we get there.
   Not looking ahead means we’re abandoning responsibility for our own future. We’re not bothering to try to control the course of our lives, we’re simply drifting and passively accepting whatever transpires.
   Each of us is a free agent. We’re free to speculate, imagine, seek, set goals, work to achieve them or just drift through life or allow our course to be set or influenced by others and their decisions.
   We all once lived like this, at least for a while. It’s called infancy or early childhood and was appropriate for a brief period many years ago, but not anymore.
   We’re not a 007, licensed to kill, but we are accredited by God, licensed to live. If we deliberately stunt our growth, if we bind ourselves tightly with behaviors that prevent us from developing, if we pretend that one stage of our lives was the best and only one and cling to it dearly, we are opting for blindness, deafness, immobility, and dying.

   O Lord, you have probed me and you know me; you know when I sit and when I stand; you understand my thoughts from afar.
   My journeys and my rest you scrutinize, with all my ways you are familiar…
   Where can I go from your spirit? From your presence, where I can flee?…
   If I take the winds of the dawn, if I settle at the farthest limits of the sea,
   Even there your hand shall guide me, and your right hand hold me fast.
   (Psalm 139:1-3,7,9-10)

8 August 2021

Snapshot or Motion Picture?

A perfect, crystal clear image of me—whether ordinary photograph or x-ray—can show many things about how I am at the exact moment the image was made. But, a perfect, crystal clear image doesn’t tell anything about trajectory or motion.
   – a snapshot taken outdoors in dim light may have been taken as day is breaking or as night is falling.
   – an x-ray showing a malignancy could indicate an improvement in a previous condition or a worsening depending on the previous picture.
   – what you said or what you wrote might be astoundingly insightful or disappointingly ordinary in comparison with general knowledge of the topic or what you had said or written before.
   It reminds me of the kid’s game, Statues, where, when whoever is It turns his or her back, all the other players try to advance to tag that person, but whenever he or she turns all the others must freeze in their positions. Whoever fails to completely freeze must go back to the starting position again.
   To be living means to be constantly changing, in motion. To be totally and in every way immobile is to be dead.
   If you really want to get to know me better (or I, you), you need more than a snapshot. You need to know where I’m coming from—my origins, my starting point, the roads I’ve traveled, the time and resources I’ve spent to get where I am, something of my adventures and misadventures—and, of course, you need to know where I’m headed or seem to be heading.
   If you want to judge me, it’s harder still precisely because I’m always changing. Our lives involve an endless series of mid-course corrections. I can make a tentative assessment of you—take a snapshot—at any given moment, but final judgement needs the completion of your life.
   There’s no winner till the battle’s over!

   The many snapshots of our lives are helpful, but just one picture tells little—we need points of comparison. The “motion pictures” of our lives are much better—even though they can vary depending on from what angle or point they may be shot.
   It’s impossible to make a final judgement until the film is complete and we’ve seen, understood, and assessed all of it. Also, even in this there are variations. We all may watch the same film, and have very different levels of contentment or discontentment about it.
   The only one capable of absolute judgement is the Knower of all things
   When someone is canonized a saint, it doesn’t mean that the person is adjudged perfect or without failing, faults, or sin. But it does mean that the person has been outstanding in many ways and is being held up for the rest of us as a model to be imitated—but, naturally, not in every detail.
   Role models help us on our life’s way. It gives us courage when we can see the achievements of another just like ourselves—and it also encourages us to see their successes in spite of their failings.
   What a strange world we live in these days, where we are so morbidly fascinated by the failings of others that we focus on them in spite of what clearly were their many successes and achievements.
   What strange judgements we make, denying some evidence, exaggerating other, and totally forgetting the limitations of any and all premature judgements.
   Don’t forget,
   “Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone…” and
   “Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”


27 June 2021

The Martha Complex

“To be or not to be?” For Hamlet, this literally was a life or death question. Is life worth living? Why must I prolong the agony? What have I done to deserve this? What alternatives do I have?
For most of us in this ever busy, bustling world we live in, our question could well be “To do or not to do?” Why do I have to do so much? Why do some others get away with doing much less or so little? What’s this rat-race for anyway?
Usually from earliest childhood we’re used to being judged on performance:
– “Oh, you’re such a good baby! You ate all your dinner.”
– “Oh, what a good girl! Look how nice and neat your room is.”
– “Great job! You really cleaned up the yard.”
– “Hey, man, your home run won the game!”
– “Your thesis was outstanding. You’re going to graduate cum laude.”
– “You’re going to get a good raise this year. Your work was super.”
– “Congratulations! For outstanding service, you’re going to be promoted next month.”
In the U.S., usually when you meet a stranger, after a while a common question is, “What do you do?” Meaning, of course, what is your job?
We have become used to identifying ourselves by what we do. Often it’s our label: farmer, waiter, cop, preacher, painter, aid, teacher, doctor, nurse, and the like.
You can even pass the “do” test with a label like poet, so long as you can point to your poetry, preferably published.
Once upon a time college was associated with training in “liberal arts”; now it’s much more likely to be a matter of job training and preparation.
For better or worse, we live in a world that esteems doing and doers.

O Lord, my heart is not proud
Nor haughty my eyes.
I have not gone after things too great
Nor marvels beyond me.

Truly I have set my soul
In silence and peace.
As a child has rest in its mother’s arms
Even so my soul.

These verses from Psalm 131 are a good antidote to an overdose of “doing”.
Resting is not “doing”—it’s an abstention from doing. It’s just “being”.
“Being” allows basking in silence and in peace. It can be accompanied by joy and gladness. It can be far more contagious than any virus. It is the great liberation from the slavery of “doing”.
Thanks be to God for the state or stage of life when the demands of “doing” abate, when we no longer are being judged by achievements and successes, when we are retired or exempted from the requirements of doing and accomplishing.
It is a great time for “being”, especially if we rarely found much time for it before.
Poor Hamlet, so wrapped in the tragedies of his life, in what he had to do to oppose and reveal them, in the requirements of honor and vengeance, and in his relative inability successfully to “do” all that overwhelmed him, that he seemed to see “being” as no more than “not doing”.
Martha complained of Mary because she wasn’t “doing” enough. Jesus rebuked her, saying that “There is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part and it will not be taken from her.”
If you’ve got to “do”, do like her.


28 February 2021

Trying to Do the Right Thing

confuse  1. to mix up; jumble together; put into disorder  2. to mix up mentally; specifically, a) to bewilder; perplex  b) to embarrass; disconcert: abash  c) to fail to distinguish between; mistake the identity of

The last part of the definition is an important danger signal. It’s about something we often tend to do, and rarely recognize—although lots of folk sayings should warn us:

– separate the wheat from the chaff
– two wrongs don’t make a right
– don’t be misled by appearances
– don’t judge a book by its cover
– action speak louder than words
– all that glitters is not gold
– don’t throw out the baby with the bathwater

When it comes to right and wrong, things can get confusing. We may fail to distinguish between and mistake the identity of what is of God and what is merely human custom.
I learned a little lesson about that a long time ago, when as a young priest I was sent to Puerto Rico to learn to speak Spanish and to understand the challenges of intercultural communication.
There are many differences between North American Catholicism and Latin American Catholicism—different priorities, different popular customs, different cultural values—but the same fundamental faith.
Here’s a very simple example:
When I heard the confessions of children in New York, it was likely that their main sin would be, “I disobeyed” my mother, father, teacher, etc. But I found that in Puerto Rico the main sin of children was more likely to be, “I disrespected” my mother, father, teacher, and the like.

Are they both sins? Is it ever right to disobey or is it always wrong? Is it ever right to disrespect or is it always wrong? Which “sin” appears to be worse? Which is worse? Like many things, the more you think about them, the more confusing they can become.
Take a far more complicated example, a very contentious matter in the United States both politically and religiously, about being “pro-life” or “pro-choice”.
At first it seems simple enough: we should be both! If “pro-life” refers to respecting human life from conception to death, we certainly should try to do that. If “pro-choice” refers to respecting each person’s God-given right to make his or her own free choices, we certainly should try to do that.
But . . .
What to do, if your free choices limit or block mine or someone else’s?
Is it legitimate for me to take the life of another if it’s the only way to defend myself or to defend another or to defend my home, my family, my land, my country?
What about turning the other cheek or Jesus’ praying, as he accepted being crucified, “Father, forgive them, they know not what they do”?
If I’m a doctor, must I do every possible thing to heal and prolong life even though it seems clear that my patient is dying?
Is there such a thing as a “just war”? And if so, when? Who decides? If I’m raped, must I bear the child? If I’m dying and in great pain, may I decide not to be resuscitated?
What about the execution of criminals?
O to have Solomon’s wisdom! But even he sometimes confused things and made mistakes. Hopefully he learned from them!


7 February 2021