Baxter has favorites. First on the list is salmon. He goes crazy when I unwrap the package and get the filet ready for the grill. He can hardly contain himself. His nose is in the air trying to get a full whiff of the delicacy. Then he starts begging and crying. Even before it is cooked and served, he is craving a piece. He won't let the delight out of his sight. He sits and stares while I am heating the grill and marinating the portion. Then when it is ready to be served, he swerves around my legs turning on the charm to have me hand over a generous morsel. He always wins.
We all have our favorites. Whether it is particular foods we love, or clothes we like to wear, or people we enjoy being with, or activities we like to engage in, we are attracted to these favorites, and no substitute quite fills the bill as well. They bring joy to our lives. They brighten a dark day and bring comfort to a difficult situation. They help us relax. Nothing can substitute for them. Others might try to convince us to go for something different, but if we do, we often go back to the tried and true. Once we have found a favorite, it's not easy to give it up for another alternative. Our favorites become part of what makes us who we are.
God has favorites too. Not food or clothes or hobbies, but a special part of His creation—people. We humans stand out from all the other works of God's hand as made in His image and saved in His grace for a special place in God's Kingdom. But when God picks favorites, it works a little differently than we might expect. You see, God picks every person as His favorite. No one is loved more than another in God's eyes. We are each loved fully and totally for who we are in His sight. No one is better or worse in deserving God's love, because no one can earn this love. It is free and unconditional. Our closest way to get a handle on this love is to think of loving parents. No matter what their children do or whatever happens to them, good parents love their children still. They may not like what they did. They may object to their life style or company, but there is no abandoning one's children, no disconnecting from the relationship created at conception, no condemning who they are, even if their behavior is judged wrong.
God is the Father of every human being. So we are all His favorites. There are no comparisons here. God can't love some one or some group more than another, any more than parents can love one of their children more than the rest of them. But God's love is a challenge to His children. We are called to treat each other as God treats us. This is a tall order for us who pick favorites by excluding what we don't like. How can we include everyone with respect and good will as part of our family? We can't do it on our own devices. We are too selfish, fearful and insecure. But with God's grace, we can have a taste of loving as God loves us--freely and unconditionally, where everyone is a favorite and no one is excluded.
I bet when God looks at the whole expanse of humanity He has created or will create, He gets excited to take all of us into His life. Baxter's excitement pales in the face of God's on this point. What a wonderful God is ours!
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Thursday, May 9, 2013
EASY TRANSITIONS
One of the characteristics that has endeared me to Baxter is his adaptability. He has been through five moves in his twelve years with me. Knowing cats' love for routine and familiar space, I was always a little anxious each time I introduced Baxter to a new home. Would he feel safe and secure again so that his eating, sleeping, grooming and bathroom habits that I came to count on would continue? Each move I worried that I would end up with a "troubled" cat--one who would stop eating (Fat chance!); would groom excessively and harm himself; would "mark" his new turf; would become hidden and aggressive when sought after. Baxter never came close to any of these neurotic symptoms. He might hide under the bed for a day or two when he first was introduced to his new digs, but after that, he was back to his old self, exploring the new terrain and staking out his favorite sleeping spots. With each change, Baxter found and made a new home.
Now I helped him in these transitions. I made sure that he knew I was sharing the new space as I had done the old. I would talk to him, pet him, play with him and give him a little extra attention at first. I tried to notice what he preferred--where he wanted me to place his food bowl, his litter box, and his scratch pad with the cat nip--and I tried to accommodate these preferences. Baxter and I helped each other make a home for ourselves.
That's a secret to all sorts of transitions we need to make in life. We have to make changes from time to time. It is the nature of being alive. But we can help each other through these changes if we are just sensitive to what the other person might need. In that regard, we aren't that different from other living creatures.
We need to feel safe. We need to know that we will be cared for in the new setting. We need time and space to adjust, but we need to avoid self-destructive behaviors in adjusting. We need some touchstones of the familiar in our new digs, especially people who stay with us throughout our lives. But there is something different about us human beings from the other creatures of this earth. We need to know that God goes with us and is as present, powerful and loving in this new setting as He was in the previous circumstances of our lives. In that sense, God is the home we take with us no matter how strange the new situation might be for us. Our Catholic Eucharist reflects this truth because its basic ritual is the same throughout the world, even if the language and style may vary.
The Book of Ruth reads, "Wherever you go, I will go, wherever you lodge, I will lodge". This is God's promise to us whenever we face some major transitions in our lives. The familiar, the reassuring, the comforting presence is just a prayer away. The helping hand of a fellow believer should be just an ask away. And with these two pieces in our luggage, we can find a home again when our world changes.
Now I helped him in these transitions. I made sure that he knew I was sharing the new space as I had done the old. I would talk to him, pet him, play with him and give him a little extra attention at first. I tried to notice what he preferred--where he wanted me to place his food bowl, his litter box, and his scratch pad with the cat nip--and I tried to accommodate these preferences. Baxter and I helped each other make a home for ourselves.
That's a secret to all sorts of transitions we need to make in life. We have to make changes from time to time. It is the nature of being alive. But we can help each other through these changes if we are just sensitive to what the other person might need. In that regard, we aren't that different from other living creatures.
We need to feel safe. We need to know that we will be cared for in the new setting. We need time and space to adjust, but we need to avoid self-destructive behaviors in adjusting. We need some touchstones of the familiar in our new digs, especially people who stay with us throughout our lives. But there is something different about us human beings from the other creatures of this earth. We need to know that God goes with us and is as present, powerful and loving in this new setting as He was in the previous circumstances of our lives. In that sense, God is the home we take with us no matter how strange the new situation might be for us. Our Catholic Eucharist reflects this truth because its basic ritual is the same throughout the world, even if the language and style may vary.
The Book of Ruth reads, "Wherever you go, I will go, wherever you lodge, I will lodge". This is God's promise to us whenever we face some major transitions in our lives. The familiar, the reassuring, the comforting presence is just a prayer away. The helping hand of a fellow believer should be just an ask away. And with these two pieces in our luggage, we can find a home again when our world changes.
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
CAT AND MOUSE
Because Baxter is a house cat, he never has the pleasure of being on the hunt. I can see his stalking and prowling instincts at work sometimes, but toy rodents and birds only go so far in keeping these active and alert. Maybe that is why he makes up his own cat and mouse game trying to capture me in his scheme. Here's how it works.
Baxter's automatic feeder revolves with a new meal at 4:30 every afternoon. I keep the food supply replenished and reset the timer in the feeder to be sure this happens. I have often witnessed the mechanism work to deliver the 1/4 cup of kibble to its eager client. Yet, if I am not present for a particular feeding, Baxter starts to play tricks with me when I come home. He tries to deceive me into offering another meal. He begins with his mournful look followed by his piercing cries of hunger. One would think he hadn't had food in days, when, in fact, it was an hour ago. Then he rubs up against me and the feeder to charm me into an unplanned portion. Sometimes his act is so good, I begin to doubt myself. I open the lid to check the number of empty and full compartments. Sure enough, the feeder is as efficient as clockwork, but Baxter is trying to trick me into another meal, one that is unplanned, undeserved, and certainly unneeded. Instead of hunting for his food, Baxter's domesticated instincts now drive him into tricking for more treats. He pretends the scheduled meal never happened and feigns hunger pains and neglect, hoping this masquerade will get him more than he needs.
We can play the same game with each other and with God. We make ourselves out to be neglected and abused, thinking that others will feel sorry for us and give us what we want. We play the "poor victim" card, trying to trump any other needs and concerns with our own. We want attention, and we do whatever it takes to get it. We play ourselves off against others, so that our interests and demands are heard above theirs and dominate the agenda. After all, how can anything be more important than my needs and concerns. Otherwise, no one loves me or cares about me. Like Baxter, we can play this part well.
But God is up to our tricks, and He won't play along. He doesn't feed self pity or the deception to get it. To God, everyone is precious and deserves respect, but no one is the center of the universe. God lives and acts from the center as our Creator and Redeemer. We are here to serve God by serving each other's real and genuine needs. This may not always please or satisfy them, but it will help to keep them well spiritually and personally. Refusing to be tricked or manipulated into satisfying our own or others' selfish egos allows God to use us for genuine service in His name. The areas of real poverty in body and spirit need fed by us, not the overindulgence of our pride seeking arrogant recognition. Feeding such instincts only leads to spiritual heart attack and eventual death.
Cat and mouse games are for feral creatures and unevangelized humans. Disciples don't play games with each other, but they serve each other as Other Christ's, fed together at the one table of the Lord and sent to invite others to that feast.
Baxter's automatic feeder revolves with a new meal at 4:30 every afternoon. I keep the food supply replenished and reset the timer in the feeder to be sure this happens. I have often witnessed the mechanism work to deliver the 1/4 cup of kibble to its eager client. Yet, if I am not present for a particular feeding, Baxter starts to play tricks with me when I come home. He tries to deceive me into offering another meal. He begins with his mournful look followed by his piercing cries of hunger. One would think he hadn't had food in days, when, in fact, it was an hour ago. Then he rubs up against me and the feeder to charm me into an unplanned portion. Sometimes his act is so good, I begin to doubt myself. I open the lid to check the number of empty and full compartments. Sure enough, the feeder is as efficient as clockwork, but Baxter is trying to trick me into another meal, one that is unplanned, undeserved, and certainly unneeded. Instead of hunting for his food, Baxter's domesticated instincts now drive him into tricking for more treats. He pretends the scheduled meal never happened and feigns hunger pains and neglect, hoping this masquerade will get him more than he needs.
We can play the same game with each other and with God. We make ourselves out to be neglected and abused, thinking that others will feel sorry for us and give us what we want. We play the "poor victim" card, trying to trump any other needs and concerns with our own. We want attention, and we do whatever it takes to get it. We play ourselves off against others, so that our interests and demands are heard above theirs and dominate the agenda. After all, how can anything be more important than my needs and concerns. Otherwise, no one loves me or cares about me. Like Baxter, we can play this part well.
But God is up to our tricks, and He won't play along. He doesn't feed self pity or the deception to get it. To God, everyone is precious and deserves respect, but no one is the center of the universe. God lives and acts from the center as our Creator and Redeemer. We are here to serve God by serving each other's real and genuine needs. This may not always please or satisfy them, but it will help to keep them well spiritually and personally. Refusing to be tricked or manipulated into satisfying our own or others' selfish egos allows God to use us for genuine service in His name. The areas of real poverty in body and spirit need fed by us, not the overindulgence of our pride seeking arrogant recognition. Feeding such instincts only leads to spiritual heart attack and eventual death.
Cat and mouse games are for feral creatures and unevangelized humans. Disciples don't play games with each other, but they serve each other as Other Christ's, fed together at the one table of the Lord and sent to invite others to that feast.
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
THE GNAT OF GRACE
The other day Baxter was lying on my lap in a trance as I scratched behind his ear. (He loves me to scratch that spot!). Suddenly, he perks up, sits up straight with eyes wide open, and he is following something. At first, I can't see it. Baxter is bobbing up and down, back and forth, and I can't figure out what is exciting him. He ignores me and is totally occupied by whatever he sees moving around him. Nothing I do gets his attention back. He is riveted to the flying phantom that ruined his entranced pleasure. Once hooked, he was not to be deterred until he captured the elusive object.
It was a tiny gnat! I finally caught sight of the bugger and invited it to its final fly-by. Once gone, Baxter settled back to his lap of luxury with another session of behind the ear massage therapy. O, what a life!!!
The Risen Lord is sometimes like that gnat. He comes to us unexpectedly, seemingly out of nowhere, and we can't figure out what He is at first. We are lost in whatever entrances us at the time, and we don't see the tiny movement of a different kind of being. Unlike cats, our sensors are often so absorbed with the present situation that we can't acknowledge anything outside our current interest or concern. We need to develop a sixth sense fostered by our faith--a sense of the mysterious in the midst of the ordinary, a sense for the transcendent among the mundane, a sense for the holy in the little things, as Saint Theresa, the Little Flower, urged. The transformation of resurrected life comes from within, from the midst of things, from noticing another dimension to life almost hidden within the pleasures, problems, people and events of daily life. Its hints are often as elusive as a gnat, and its energy and persistence are like this tiny nuisance. It is the power of grace breaking through the numbness of our souls to bother us, to wake us up, to get us moving to God's urgings in our lives. But unlike a gnat, we can't just swat this pesky divine invader away. He is always there, and He won't go away or die. He rose from the dead to be with us until the end of the age.
So look again. He's there. He won't let us alone. If the grave couldn't contain Him, our indifference certainly can't. He doesn't sting or bite. He just wakes us up to something bigger and better, deeper and stronger than ourselves. We are moved "by the Love which turns the sun and the other stars" as Dante described it. It is flying unseen and silent all around us. Wake up and rise up with it.
It was a tiny gnat! I finally caught sight of the bugger and invited it to its final fly-by. Once gone, Baxter settled back to his lap of luxury with another session of behind the ear massage therapy. O, what a life!!!
The Risen Lord is sometimes like that gnat. He comes to us unexpectedly, seemingly out of nowhere, and we can't figure out what He is at first. We are lost in whatever entrances us at the time, and we don't see the tiny movement of a different kind of being. Unlike cats, our sensors are often so absorbed with the present situation that we can't acknowledge anything outside our current interest or concern. We need to develop a sixth sense fostered by our faith--a sense of the mysterious in the midst of the ordinary, a sense for the transcendent among the mundane, a sense for the holy in the little things, as Saint Theresa, the Little Flower, urged. The transformation of resurrected life comes from within, from the midst of things, from noticing another dimension to life almost hidden within the pleasures, problems, people and events of daily life. Its hints are often as elusive as a gnat, and its energy and persistence are like this tiny nuisance. It is the power of grace breaking through the numbness of our souls to bother us, to wake us up, to get us moving to God's urgings in our lives. But unlike a gnat, we can't just swat this pesky divine invader away. He is always there, and He won't go away or die. He rose from the dead to be with us until the end of the age.
So look again. He's there. He won't let us alone. If the grave couldn't contain Him, our indifference certainly can't. He doesn't sting or bite. He just wakes us up to something bigger and better, deeper and stronger than ourselves. We are moved "by the Love which turns the sun and the other stars" as Dante described it. It is flying unseen and silent all around us. Wake up and rise up with it.
Thursday, April 18, 2013
SHEDDING SEASON
We are into the shedding season now. Baxter is getting rid of those extra layers of hair as summer approaches. Needless to say, that means that there is a lot of extra cleaning at this time of the year. Pet him and your hand collects a coating of hair. Brush him and the instrument is loaded with excess hair loosened with every stroke. Sometimes Baxter can just be moving from one spot to another, and if the sun is shining brightly, I can see the floating tufts of hair follow him as he goes. Thankfully, the shredding season lasts only a couple of weeks, so it is all manageable. There is no way around it, so I just accept it as part of cat care, and buy some extra lint rollers to avoid looking like a feline cousin.
This is shedding season for us as well. We are shedding the heavy, bulking coats of winter for shorts and sandals. We are leaving behind the salt and snow shovels for mulch and garden tools. We are abandoning the indoors with their TV and computers, for the patio tables and lawn furniture of the back yard. Nature affects the way we go about our lives, shedding the protections from winter for the lighter, freer style of warm summer days and evenings.
Easter calls us to shed some other coats as well. Look to the first disciples for examples. They had to let go of some of their ideas about God and His ways. No one expected the resurrection of Jesus as the first followers encountered it. They were looking for a Messiah who would free them from the Roman yoke and make them proud and prosperous again. They were set free, but from more than military and political subjugation. They were set free from their sin and from the fear of the powers of evil. They felt like they had more of life's blessings, so they needed less of its material possessions and shared what they had more generously. Their pride grew, but it was not in what they had done. They came to witness to what God had done in Jesus for them and for everyone who would accept Him. They had to shed those ideas that covered up how God really was the Lord of Life, and they had to travel more lightly with a deeper commitment to the power of God's grace to change others and the world. Shedding their image of an avenging, mean-spirited God allowed them to be free of their fears, generous with their lives, and hopeful that God's ways would prevail, even if they didn't know how at the time.
Easter changed everything for the first disciples, and it can do so for us. But we have to shed our cold, wintry hearts; our stubborn, closed minds; and our selfish, greedy attitudes. In this way, our lighter spirits will allow the power of divine love to heal us and bring us peace. Baxter's lighter coat leaves tufts of hair around the house, but our lighter spirits leave a reordered world where we can all find hope and confidence in God again. If we put up with a little shedding of our egos, we will feel more comfortable in the warmth of divine love.
This is shedding season for us as well. We are shedding the heavy, bulking coats of winter for shorts and sandals. We are leaving behind the salt and snow shovels for mulch and garden tools. We are abandoning the indoors with their TV and computers, for the patio tables and lawn furniture of the back yard. Nature affects the way we go about our lives, shedding the protections from winter for the lighter, freer style of warm summer days and evenings.
Easter calls us to shed some other coats as well. Look to the first disciples for examples. They had to let go of some of their ideas about God and His ways. No one expected the resurrection of Jesus as the first followers encountered it. They were looking for a Messiah who would free them from the Roman yoke and make them proud and prosperous again. They were set free, but from more than military and political subjugation. They were set free from their sin and from the fear of the powers of evil. They felt like they had more of life's blessings, so they needed less of its material possessions and shared what they had more generously. Their pride grew, but it was not in what they had done. They came to witness to what God had done in Jesus for them and for everyone who would accept Him. They had to shed those ideas that covered up how God really was the Lord of Life, and they had to travel more lightly with a deeper commitment to the power of God's grace to change others and the world. Shedding their image of an avenging, mean-spirited God allowed them to be free of their fears, generous with their lives, and hopeful that God's ways would prevail, even if they didn't know how at the time.
Easter changed everything for the first disciples, and it can do so for us. But we have to shed our cold, wintry hearts; our stubborn, closed minds; and our selfish, greedy attitudes. In this way, our lighter spirits will allow the power of divine love to heal us and bring us peace. Baxter's lighter coat leaves tufts of hair around the house, but our lighter spirits leave a reordered world where we can all find hope and confidence in God again. If we put up with a little shedding of our egos, we will feel more comfortable in the warmth of divine love.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
PURRFECT PEACE
Perhaps nothing is as distinctive about a cat than its purr. It's an automatic response to contentment and pleasure in the species. Baxter purrs at the drop of a hat. Scratch his neck or chin or back, and he purrs. Turn on the faucet for a drink, and he purrs. Offer him a treat, and he purrs. He sometimes purrs for no apparent reason. He just rolls over on the floor and purrs, or sits looking out the window purring. I guess Baxter is a happy cat.
And his happiness is contagious. When I pet Baxter and he begins to purr, it is therapy for any stress, frustration or upset I might be feeling. Hearing that soothing sound and feeling the quiet vibration through his body communicate a peace and contentment that I can't resist. No matter how bad the day might have been, it seems to be calmed by that distinctive tone and rhythm. It says that a better condition is only a scratch away. It puts the troubles of the day into a different perspective. Hearing that sound and feeling that tickle says there's a better time ahead, another chance at getting it right. Forget what is past, and enjoy the little pleasures of the present moment. Tomorrow, we can begin again, fresh and hopeful.
The risen Lord wants to have a similar effect on us. He says time and again in His resurrection appearances, “Peace.” Despite our fears, despite our pain and disappointments, despite the marks of past hurts, despite the threats we face and the worries they create, “Peace.” This word of resurrected life is not a casual greeting like “Hello.” It's an invitation to come and sit for a while. Listen to the sound of God speaking to us. Feel the deep sense of peace that comes with knowing that the worst has happened, and we didn't just survive it. We were transformed by it. We have become a people of God's very own Spirit. We are claimed by the divine life in baptism and that mark can never be erased. It vibrates in our souls when our conscience guides our thoughts and deeds, when our instinct is to do the generous thing and not the self-serving one, when we find a reason to begin each day with hope that good things still await us. We feel it when we forgive another, when we have compassion for the poor and suffering, when we find the courage to stand up to wrongdoing and injustice. We hear the Lord's peace when we listen in silence to our own hearts, and they are full of a presence that overwhelms us. Like the purr of a cat, the peace of the Risen One is contagious. It gets inside us and changes our outlook, disposition and actions. It is new life.
And his happiness is contagious. When I pet Baxter and he begins to purr, it is therapy for any stress, frustration or upset I might be feeling. Hearing that soothing sound and feeling the quiet vibration through his body communicate a peace and contentment that I can't resist. No matter how bad the day might have been, it seems to be calmed by that distinctive tone and rhythm. It says that a better condition is only a scratch away. It puts the troubles of the day into a different perspective. Hearing that sound and feeling that tickle says there's a better time ahead, another chance at getting it right. Forget what is past, and enjoy the little pleasures of the present moment. Tomorrow, we can begin again, fresh and hopeful.
The risen Lord wants to have a similar effect on us. He says time and again in His resurrection appearances, “Peace.” Despite our fears, despite our pain and disappointments, despite the marks of past hurts, despite the threats we face and the worries they create, “Peace.” This word of resurrected life is not a casual greeting like “Hello.” It's an invitation to come and sit for a while. Listen to the sound of God speaking to us. Feel the deep sense of peace that comes with knowing that the worst has happened, and we didn't just survive it. We were transformed by it. We have become a people of God's very own Spirit. We are claimed by the divine life in baptism and that mark can never be erased. It vibrates in our souls when our conscience guides our thoughts and deeds, when our instinct is to do the generous thing and not the self-serving one, when we find a reason to begin each day with hope that good things still await us. We feel it when we forgive another, when we have compassion for the poor and suffering, when we find the courage to stand up to wrongdoing and injustice. We hear the Lord's peace when we listen in silence to our own hearts, and they are full of a presence that overwhelms us. Like the purr of a cat, the peace of the Risen One is contagious. It gets inside us and changes our outlook, disposition and actions. It is new life.
Thursday, April 4, 2013
A SURPRISING POSSIBILITY
I have mentioned before that Baxter is a creature of habit. He likes routine and the familiar, yet, every once in a while, Baxter surprises me. He starts something new. Recently, he began to lie on a table I use when I want to eat dinner in front of the television. He never bothered with it before, but now it has become one of his favorite spots. Sometimes he surprises me with his eating preferences. Usually, Baxter is a strict kibble cat food muncher with some salmon, chicken or tuna thrown in occasionally for a special treat. But then, out of the blue, he will beg for some vegetable I’m eating. Asparagus and cabbage seem to tickle his fancy, and sometimes a bit of carrot. I guess variety is the spice of life, so Baxter wants a dash of something different from time to time to season his diet.
God works with us that way as well. He has a set routine that He usually follows. Sunday Mass, the ten commandments and teachings of the Church, the practice of the works of mercy, and the cultivation of the virtues are the hallmarks of our ongoing Christian formation. Yet, from time to time God throws a surprise into the mix. He gives us something new to chew on from our faith perspective. Maybe it’s an unexpected blessing like a job promotion, a windfall of wealth, a cure for a chronic health condition or a reconciliation of a longstanding hurt or misunderstanding. On the contrary, maybe the surprise is bad news--the loss of a job, a life-threatening diagnosis, a break in a life-long friendship or the end of a marriage. We can’t predict what lies ahead for us in life, and when it comes our way, we have to be ready and willing to incorporate the event into our faith. That might call for some adjustments in the way we see God and in the way we see ourselves.
With God, we may welcome the positive things as signs of His goodness to us, the good people. But when it comes to the hardships, then we ask, “Why me?” We don’t deserve such affronts to our happiness. After all, we go to church and live correctly. Where is our reward? With ourselves, we may begin to doubt our goodness and the significance of our lives. What did I do to deserve this hardship? I don’t know if I can handle this condition. What can I do to make it better or even get rid of the burden?
The death and resurrection came as a surprise to the first disciples. While Jesus tried to tell them that things would fall apart in Jerusalem, they didn’t want to hear it. While He gave them clues to the new life that would be won by His suffering and death, they couldn’t conceive of what He meant. Good Friday to Easter Sunday was a roller coaster ride for the disciples. Dashed to the lowest point they had known in their discipleship and raised to the splendor of an unimaginable victory over sin and death, they had to be disoriented and confused by the events they witnessed. Nothing was routine here. The worst and the best had happened within three days. Now what do they do?
They had to change their ideas about God and themselves. They had to see life’s pain, suffering and loss not as God’s punishment but as the dark side of God’s abiding presence, supporting and sustaining them. They had to see themselves not as the victims of life, but as partners with God in overcoming the powers of darkness. They had to change their way of living the faith. No longer could they be simply observant believers. They had to become apostles of the new way, the Way Who is Jesus become the Christ to save us. They received the very Spirit of God through the transformation of Easter. Now, they had to learn to live by that Spirit, so that they could share it in all they said and did.
Baxter surprises me from time to time. We all surprise each other occasionally. But God’s surprise at Easter is the greatest of all. Don’t miss it or reject it. Embrace it, and it will eventually change your life.
God works with us that way as well. He has a set routine that He usually follows. Sunday Mass, the ten commandments and teachings of the Church, the practice of the works of mercy, and the cultivation of the virtues are the hallmarks of our ongoing Christian formation. Yet, from time to time God throws a surprise into the mix. He gives us something new to chew on from our faith perspective. Maybe it’s an unexpected blessing like a job promotion, a windfall of wealth, a cure for a chronic health condition or a reconciliation of a longstanding hurt or misunderstanding. On the contrary, maybe the surprise is bad news--the loss of a job, a life-threatening diagnosis, a break in a life-long friendship or the end of a marriage. We can’t predict what lies ahead for us in life, and when it comes our way, we have to be ready and willing to incorporate the event into our faith. That might call for some adjustments in the way we see God and in the way we see ourselves.
With God, we may welcome the positive things as signs of His goodness to us, the good people. But when it comes to the hardships, then we ask, “Why me?” We don’t deserve such affronts to our happiness. After all, we go to church and live correctly. Where is our reward? With ourselves, we may begin to doubt our goodness and the significance of our lives. What did I do to deserve this hardship? I don’t know if I can handle this condition. What can I do to make it better or even get rid of the burden?
The death and resurrection came as a surprise to the first disciples. While Jesus tried to tell them that things would fall apart in Jerusalem, they didn’t want to hear it. While He gave them clues to the new life that would be won by His suffering and death, they couldn’t conceive of what He meant. Good Friday to Easter Sunday was a roller coaster ride for the disciples. Dashed to the lowest point they had known in their discipleship and raised to the splendor of an unimaginable victory over sin and death, they had to be disoriented and confused by the events they witnessed. Nothing was routine here. The worst and the best had happened within three days. Now what do they do?
They had to change their ideas about God and themselves. They had to see life’s pain, suffering and loss not as God’s punishment but as the dark side of God’s abiding presence, supporting and sustaining them. They had to see themselves not as the victims of life, but as partners with God in overcoming the powers of darkness. They had to change their way of living the faith. No longer could they be simply observant believers. They had to become apostles of the new way, the Way Who is Jesus become the Christ to save us. They received the very Spirit of God through the transformation of Easter. Now, they had to learn to live by that Spirit, so that they could share it in all they said and did.
Baxter surprises me from time to time. We all surprise each other occasionally. But God’s surprise at Easter is the greatest of all. Don’t miss it or reject it. Embrace it, and it will eventually change your life.
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