Tag: Discernment

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

The Mass of the Roman Rite

As a young priest studying Canon Law in Rome during the first three sessions of Vatican Council II, I had two different memories related to the implementation of the revised liturgy of the Mass there.
   One was of a conversation with the pious layman who was the sacristan of the chapel where we lived: “Father”, he said to me, “the Mass in Italian is very nice, but . . . ” hesitatingly he continued. “since Our Lord spoke in Latin at the Last Supper, is it a good idea for us to change?”
   The other was of the local newspaper: “For the second time,” it boasted, “Rome has changed to the vernacular for the Mass.” It referred to the fact that for the first few centuries, prayers in Rome were still in Greek before they began to be celebrated in the then local spoken language, Latin.
   A lesson of these two little stories is that Vatican II was not the first major time that the Roman liturgy was changed and updated.
   A landmark work of scholarship about the liturgy was the publication in 1948 of Missarum Sollemnia, a history of the development of the Roman Mass by Fr. Joseph A. Jungmann, S.J.. (A translation from the original German to English was published two years later under the title of The Mass of the Roman Rite; Its Origins and Development.)
   In this masterwork, Father Jungmann traced the changes and development of the Mass through the centuries, explaining the factors and logic behind the continual changes in the prayers and the rite itself.
   With the polarization in the Church today between those favoring the “Tridentine Mass’’—i.e. the rite used before the Vatican II liturgical reforms—and those using the revised rite promulgated by St. Pope Paul VI, one might think this was the first time in history that there was a major change!
   It wasn’t the first, and it won’t be the last!

   I was ordained in 1958; Pope Pius XII was still in office and the Mass was still in Latin. I celebrated Mass in Latin every day for the next six years or so, until the changes to the vernacular began to be made.
   (I needed no missal for the unchanging prayers of the Mass; I knew them by heart.)
   Personally, I have no issues about the language of the Mass—I’m certainly used to celebrating in Latin, English, or Spanish. I miss some of the beautiful Latin chants and hymns we used to use more frequently—and we still can use them, of course.
   There have been some changes in the words of the prayers and a greater variety of them. I think that’s a good thing. Some gestures, postures, and vesture have changed as well, usually because their raison d’etre no longer exists.
   It seems that some of the conflict and taking of sides about the rite of the Mass is really about Vatican II itself, accepting or rejecting its teachings. It’s really an issue of change and development.
   Of course we all have fond memories of past practices, customs, and favorite things, but “time marches on” and change happens, for better or for worse. Not every change is positive growth; some changes are destructive. Clearly discernment is vital.
   As a priest, I lived, studied, and worked in Rome 1962-1965. I was on the staff of Vatican II for the second and third of its four sessions. It was a wonderful, exciting, unforgettable time.
   There was no great polarization at Vatican II. The Council was not sharply nor bitterly divided. It was a time of great grace and inspiration. It was a profoundly spiritual experience. It really was an aggiornamento.


17 October 2021

Shekinah

It’s not a biblical word as such, although it does describe some things in the Bible. It’s an English transliteration of a Hebrew word that refers to the divine presence and particularly associated with a manifestation of the divine presence. For example:
   – the pillar of cloud by day and of fire by night that led the Israelites through the desert towards the Promised Land.
   – the experiences of Moses (and later Ezekiel) on the mountain of God.
   – the manifestation of the presence of God that clouded the great Temple of Solomon during its consecration ceremony.
   – the vision Ezekiel had of the glory of God leaving the Temple and Jerusalem itself because of the faithlessness of so many of its people.
   The word also could be used in reference to other kinds of manifestations of the divine presence. For example,
   – the glory of God, sung by the angels, at the birth of the Messiah in Bethlehem. (Luke 2:8-14)
   – the prayer of Simeon, the righteous and devout, who took the infant Jesus into his arms in the Temple and blessed God that he lived to see “a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and glory for your people Israel.” (Luke 2:32)
   – Jesus’ teaching about prayer: “For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.” (Matthew 18:20)
   There are myriad ways for a manifestation of the divine presence in our lives, and rarely are they very dramatic and unmistakable. Most often they escape our attention and are unnoticed.
   Remember what St. Paul said to the Athenian intellectuals on the Areopagus about the one God, quoting from their literature: “For ‘In him we live and move and have our being,’ as even some of your poets have said, ‘For we too are his offspring.’” (Acts 17:28)

   “In him we live and move and have our being” means that we are radically inseparable from God, whether we know it or realize it or not.
   Every time we awaken to a new day is a gift, every good new thought and insight is an inspiration, every act of patient endurance is an empowerment.
   Do you really think that of yourself alone you’re so healthy, so smart, so strong, so attractive, so successful, so effective?
   Are you frustrated that you pray and sacrifice and that God seems indifferent and doesn’t respond?
   In many ways, we’re all like the tired and disillusioned disciples on the road to Emmaus. They were so caught up in themselves and their disappointments that, although the Lord was walking with them, they were blind to his presence.
   We’re really good at complaining and asking God why did this happen? why have you done this? why don’t you listen to me?
   The manifestations of the presence of God could be crashes of thunder, flashes of lightning, torrents of rain, earthquakes, and other such things—but usually this is more our imagination than God’s action.
   You exist! You were born! You still live! You know things! You’ve been to places! You have friends and people who love you!
   You, me, we are not alone. Our lives are not a series of random, meaningless advances and setbacks. We’re not wandering aimlessly in a wilderness. We’re travelers en route. We have a destiny and destination.
   Maybe you’ve recognized a manifestation of God in your life and maybe you haven’t.
   Just because you don’t recognize God walking with you doesn’t mean you’re walking alone.


3 October 2021

God Doesn’t Shout

Chapter 19 of the 1st book of Kings tells of Elijah’s encounter with God on the mountain:

There was a strong and violent wind rending the mountains and crushing rocks before the Lord—but the Lord was not in the wind; after the wind, an earthquake—but the Lord was not in the earthquake; after the earthquake, fire—but the Lord was not in the fire; after the fire, a light silent sound.

   When Elijah heard the light silent sound he knew he was in the presence of God.
   We may yearn to know the will of God, to know what God expects of us. We may yearn to hear his voice.
   The Bible tells of us of the experience of others, of how they perceived the will of God, of how they heard his voice.
   The lives of the saints are similar. We learn how they came to discern God’s will, how they heard God’s call.
   We may cry out in the depths of our hearts, “Lord, why did you allow this to happen? Lord, where are you leading me? Lord, what do you want of me?
   Can it be that God ignores our plea? that God doesn’t hear our cry? that God is indifferent to our plight?
   No!
   God always answers—and God often answers in ways we do not expect.
   If you’re expecting dramatic divine intervention in your life like the experience of St. Paul the Apostle on the road to Damascus, you may be waiting in vain. In fact, you may be missing or completely misunderstanding God’s way of communication. God may be speaking, but it is you who do not hear!
   When the people heard the crash of thunder and the flashes of lighting they “knew” that God was speaking to Moses.
   But Moses—and Elijah—knew better.

   Three special ways God speaks to us are through the created universe, the teachings of Jesus, and in the depths of our hearts.
   The problem is not that God is not talking to us. The problem lies with us, that we are often deaf, dumb, and stupid—we don’t see, hear, sense, feel, taste, discern, understand, or comprehend.
   Elijah in the depth of depression and despair, went into the desert to die—and yet he was summoned to stand before God on the mountain and hear his voice. At least he was not so far gone that he misconstrued the violence of nature as the voice of God. He listened for the light silent sound!
   The sonnet of Elizabeth Barrett Browning, “How do I love thee?”, could also be a reflection about “How do I hear thee?”:

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.


12 September 2021

What the Lord Requires of You

   You have been told, O mortal, what is good,
     and what the Lord requires of you:   Only to do justice and to love goodness,
     and to walk humbly with your God.
(Micah 6:8)

   To know what the Lord require of us is a never-ending quest through the entire course of our lives.
   Traditionally, as a child, we may have been taught that part of the answer was to obey the commandments and laws of God and of the Church. In practice, it also usually included to do what our parents, family, clan, friends, fellow believers, fellow citizens, and others who influence our lives told us was right and proper.
   In the previous verses Micah posed the question with some examples of the traditional answers of his time:

   With what shall I come before the Lord,
     and bow before God most high?
   Shall I come before him with burnt offerings,
     with calves a year old?
      Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams,
     with myriad streams of oil?
   Shall I give my firstborn for my crime,
     the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?
(Micah 6:6-7)

   He used some extreme examples of types of sacrifices that were considered possible requirements of God.
   We do something similar ourselves in raising our children, when we give them long lists of does and don’ts, sometimes in great detail.
   No wonder that we tend to think first of guilt and sinfulness when the question of what the Lord require of us comes up.
   Look at our traditions and rituals. What an emphasis we give to the negative, to sacrifice, atonement, mortification, and giving up pleasurable things when we think about how we stand with God and what he requires of us.

   Jesus taught us to address God in prayer as a father, as a loving parent, not as supreme being, master of the universe, or an all-powerful and demanding judge and ruler.
   Hopefully we may have been blessed by having a loving parent and so have some positive appreciation of this image of God. And, even if we had a parent limited in his or her ability to love and care for us, we probably yearned for and imagined a better.
   With good parents, we have only to reach out to be embraced, consoled, understood, accepted, and loved. We never doubt their limits to respond compassionately and forgive our offenses. We even reluctantly understand the fairness of some of the restrictions or punishments they placed upon us.
   We’re not fundamentally afraid of a good parent, nor totally concealing our behavior. We instinctively trust them to be merciful and forgiving.
   Micah might not have had precisely this kind of image and understanding of God, but he certainly would have understood it.
   As a prophet and teacher he was accentuating the positive, encouraging focusing on the underlying nature of the Lord, and trying to liberate those who heard his word from being over whelmed by their failings and need for punishment and atonement.
   It’s strange, isn’t it, that, even though probably we all more or less always knew this, in practice we still often tend to act as though God is to be feared and judge ourselves more harshly than we may deserve.
   It’s almost a kind of egoism, that we can be so unforgiving of our limitations and so imagining of deserved punishment for them.
   Remember, what Jesus requires of us is to “Love one another as I have loved you!”


5 September 2021

The Fairest One of All

   Come, let us sing to the Lord and shout with joy to the Rock who saves us.
   Let us approach him with praise and thanksgiving and sing joyful songs to the Lord.

   Is this a good description of how we relate to God? Singing? Joyful? Praising? Thanking?
   Alas, more often than not it’s something like,
   “Let us cringe before the Lord and beg forgiveness from the One who judges us. Let us hide from him in fear and trembling, with sorrow for our failures, overwhelmed by our guilt.”

   I will bless your name for ever. I will bless you day after day and praise your name for ever.
   The Lord is great highly to be praised, his greatness cannot be measured….

   The Lord is kind and full of compassion, slow to anger, abounding in love.
   How good is the Lord to all, compassionate to all his creatures.

   Why are we so masochistic? Why do we tend to be so self-destructive? Why do we seem to find pleasure in self-denial, self-accusation, shame, and the like?
   Why, when we have a choice of what path to take, do we choose the way to the garbage dump over the flower garden?
   We need to learn to stop looking at and evaluating ourselves first and foremost. We have to learn to stop imitating the evil queen in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, who asks, “Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?”
   Why don’t we learn to look first at God and see wonder, beauty, and goodness instead giving a priority to a morbid fascination with our own limitations, failings, and weaknesses?

   Why is that we scurry to find new concealment when the stone that covers and weighs down our lives is removed?

   Great are the works of the Lord: to be pondered by all who love them.
   Majestic and glorious his work, his justice stands firm for ever.
   He makes us remember his wonders. The Lord is compassion and love.

   Excessive preoccupation with our own ignorance, weaknesses, and failures is a dead end street. Our Maker knows each of us better than we can know ourselves. We are imperfect, but, even so, we are loved.
   The child who is scared, hurt, crying, or overwhelmed, sometimes reaches up with arms outstretched to be picked up and held tight in an embrace of security and love.

   “Amen, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven.”

   Let’s not think of the “Last Judgement” as a court room scene. God is not to be imagined as the All Powerful seated on a throne above. There is no prosecutor pointing the finger to each and every one of our failings nor any human jury to tender a unanimous verdict of guilty.
   We need to learn to imitate the helplessness of the little child who knows no other recourse then to reach up. We need to reach out with complete trust to the One who is the very source of love itself.

   Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.


11 July 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

Figuring Things Out

There are an awful lot of things that we can’t figure out, that just don’t make sense to us, and that we don’t really understand no matter how hard we try.
   As a matter of fact, we live our lives constantly surrounded by things we can’t figure out—and, oddly enough, that doesn’t seem to bother us at all.
   Just because we don’t know exactly how a cell phone works doesn’t stop us from using it all the time. On the other hand, it may be able to do more things than we realize, but if we have no desire to do those things we’re not bothered in the least because we don’t understand them.
   How many of us can really explain how a plane flies? Even though we may not know exactly how, it doesn’t stop us from taking flights. But, we do presume and trust that the pilot understands a lot more about it than we do.
   It’s like going to the doctor. When we’re sick or don’t feel well, we trust that the doctor will know better or find out what’s wrong and do something to help us. We don’t have to know precisely how it works, to benefit from a vaccination.
   Whether you’re going to an obstetrician or a local midwife, it involves an act of confidence and trust in the knowledge and decisions of the other.
   The hardest things to figure out aren’t matters of science, technology, mechanics, or biology. The hardest things to figure out are other people!
   How often we’re baffled by their decisions, reactions, and behavior. How often we think or even say, “I just can’t figure him/her out!”
   Because we often can’t figure the other persons out, we can unknowingly misunderstand them, misjudge them, or react to them inappropriately.
   And, it’s not just strangers. It could be your mother, father, wife, husband, child, sister, brother, neighbor, friend, colleague, counselor, minister, entertainer, or boss.

   When it comes to our faith and religious practices, there’s also a lot of things we can’t figure out, that just don’t make sense to us, and that we don’t really understand.
   As a matter of fact, we live our religious lives constantly surrounded by things that we can’t figure out—and oddly enough, that also doesn’t seem to bother us at all.
   Just because we don’t know enough history, philosophy, and theology to explain the origin, change, and development in religious matters, it doesn’t usually bother us in the least or stop us from practicing our religion or living lives of faith.
   When we join with others in religious observances, we may not be able to explain everything, but we do presume and trust that our religious leaders (be they priest, minister, rabbi, imam, or swami) understand a lot more about them than we do.
   In religious matters, as in many things, although we may not have all the answers we do trust and have confidence in our religious leaders and fellow believers.
   Of course, religious leaders, like all leaders, like all people, are less than perfect, don’t know everything, and can’t explain everything, even though we may trust them.
   We may be baffled by their decisions, reactions, and behavior. We may think or even say, “I just can’t figure him/her out!”
   If this is the way things are with other people, how much more it must be with God (the maker, the creator, the supreme being, the source of all life and love).
   We can’t figure God out, and so God can be unknowingly misunderstood, misjudged, or reacted to inappropriately also!
   Especially with God, it’s really not about figuring things out—it’s all about trust and love.


13 June 2021

Don’t Stunt Your Growth

That was a warning I remember hearing from time to time when I was a kid to discourage certain behaviors, whether it involved eating, drinking, smoking, or something else.
   The presumption was that growth was a good thing and it was foolish to impede it.
   I have some friends (of modest height) whose children are much taller than they are, probably because the parents grew up in another country with a less healthy childhood diet. But they’re glad to see their kids growing taller and stronger than they are.
   Intellectual development is similar to the physical. Often children with better and more extensive schooling than their parents have better opportunities for the future.
   Generally mothers and fathers are not jealous of their children’s achievements and successes but proud of them. Of course, it’s because they consider their children’s growth and development as a good thing.
   However, in some matters, it’s just the opposite. If the children’s religious beliefs and practices change as they grow and develop, often the parents are distressed.
   Sometimes it may seem to the parents that their children are ignoring or abandoning vital elements in their religious life. Perhaps they are—or perhaps they’re simply outgrowing certain ethnic or cultural customs and practices.
   For example, is it so bad if a young person is keenly concerned about working for justice and peace but not so worried about missing a Mass on Sunday or praying the rosary?
   Growth, growing, involves change—not necessarily an abandonment of what we once were but a development, a maturation.
   St. Paul wrote, “When I was a child, I used to talk as a child, think as a child, reason as a child; when I became a man, I put aside childish things.” (1 Cor 13:11)

   Why sometimes are we so threatened by putting aside and outgrowing things from an earlier stage of our lives? Why sometimes do we defend and cling too long to past ways and thinking?
   Not every change in advocating and reasoning is necessarily an improvement or a positive development, but denying their validity and refusing to consider them isn’t necessarily an improvement or a positive development either.
   There was another warning I remember hearing from time to time when I was a kid: Don’t talk about politics or religion.
   Probably, this was because of the lived experience of those warning us about how delicate and personal these matters were.
   Right now, especially in the U.S., there is a painful polarization and division in both these areas—and the solution is not to be silent and do nothing.
   If in either of these areas we’re talking, thinking, or reasoning “as a child”—i.e. clinging too much to earlier ideas—we need to put aside childish things.
   It’s a don’t throw out the baby with the bathwater situation. The best course of action is not necessarily to cling to and defend every past thing or practice, but to discern what is good and perennial from the limited understandings and decisions of a particular group or time.
   Our roots are more important than the details of a branch. Our fundamental values merit our defense, but not necessarily every decision, plan, program, ruling, or behavior once inspired by them.
   The child and the adult are fundamentally the same person—but in the process of growing necessarily many things change.


6 June 2021