Where's Mary?

As we enter into these forty days of Lent which represent the forty days Christ spent in the desert let us stop to ponder this important question asked by a Brother Priest in the Community of St. John.

"Where was Mary during the forty days Christ was in the desert? Was she with him? Was she with Joseph? What was she doing?"


Of course the Gospels tell us nothing of Mary during this time. So, where was Mary, what was she doing? What was she thinking?

As I reflected on this question I wondered especially what she must have been thinking. I cannot imagine wondering about my beloved in the desert for forty days. I thought, Mary must have been beside herself with worry for Jesus' safety and needs.

But then Father's answer came. What was Mary doing? She was adoring God, and in doing so adoring Christ in the desert.

So as we enter into this forty days may our hearts and minds be allured into the desert where He will speak to our hearts. Let us enter into the desert with Mary in adoration of her son. Resting our head on his heart seeking to fully understand the love he has for us, and perhaps most difficultly, letting him love us. This is especially difficult as we become more aware during the season of Lent of our sinfulness, our failures, and our infidelities. May we grow in humility and love as we adore!

Q. Why is my page weird?

A. I have no idea. If anyone has any suggestions let me know!

St. Therese delivers again!

I was reading some of the last conversations of St. Therese tonight and came upon this. Her imagery speaks directly to what I was trying to explain in my last post.

I've always said she's sneaky! It is comforting to find that her thoughts match my own, not to mention humbling.

"For example, if I were to say to myself: I have acquired a certain virtue, and I am certain I can practice it. For then, this would be relying upon my own strength, and when we do this, we run the risk of falling into the abyss. However, I will have the right of doing stupid things up until my death, if I am humble and remain little. Look at little children: they never stop breaking things, tearing things, falling down, and they do this even while loving their parents very, very much. When I fall in this way, it makes me realize my nothingness more, and I say to myself: What would I do and what would I become, if I were to rely on my own strength?"

That's it! Over the past month as I've mulled over why I do things that I know are sinful and as such cause Christ to suffer and questioned why it is that I hurt the one who is Love Himself so willingly. Trying to rely on my own strength I recognize like Therese my limitations. A little child is humble because there is no other choice. It is truly a gift when as an adult one is able to recognize and embrace her utter reliance on Christ and her true identity as a child of God.

Trust and Humility (and a bit of a ramble!)

I've been pondering lately what these two things have to do with one another. If you read my earlier bit on humility you'll know that I'm not talking about being humble in the secular sense, but rather spiritual humility. How does it relate to trust in God if at all? I'd love to hear your thoughts on this!

It seems to me that trust and the accompanying abandonment must go hand in hand with humility. In fact, I think I've decided that they are a necessary prerequisite for it. Here's why.

Humility requires that we recognize our utter dependence on God. Many of the reflections I've been reading lately talk about this dependence reminding us that we exist at the pleasure of the Almighty. God thinks therefore I am. (Put that in your pipe and smoke it Renee Descartes!)

If, even just for a sliver of eternity, God stopped doing so I would cease to exist. Of course it is quite difficult to imagine one's non-existence. Even when considering our own death we are reduced (not that it's a bad thing) to considering our eternal home (smoking or non-smoking?).

See, this is where the connection between trust and humility starts to be revealed. If I didn't trust that God would not "forget" about me I would have to live in constant fear. So there is a basic level of trust there. Even when I feel as if I'm alone, I'm not. God is just hidden, waiting for me to seek him out, and to do so like a little child.

It is this image of the little child like whom we must become to enter the kingdom of heaven that has struck me immensely these past weeks. The child trusts, until someone violates that trust. So I must ask myself, if I lack in trust what is it that God has done that has violated that trust? An odd question to be sure.

Of course since I know that God is Love it does not make sense that he has done anything to violate that trust. In fact I know he has not violated that trust.

Well that leaves me at a loss then, doesn't it? No, not the way I see it. Remember when you were little and you did something that you knew was wrong? Your parents, like our heavenly father, may have shown you only love, but once you'd done wrong, perhaps by disobeying them, you lacked trust. You knew that you were in trouble, that you'd be punished. What you didn't know is that that punishment (in God's terms, justice) also would be accompanied by mercy. My paternal grandmother always told me, "No matter what you do, Grandma loves you." This is how it is with God. No matter what.

But, I digress.

It seems to me then that this lack of trust comes from two sources. Primarily as noted above from my incapacity to fully recognize (or is it an inability to accept) the generous mercy of God. Secondarily (though perhaps really primarily) from my humanity -- I'm thinking original sin here, concupicense (why can't I spell tonight?).

So, I must become then like that little child, but I have the advantage because of the gift of faith I know that God is merciful. How? I have experienced it.

Thus, failure to trust in this way perhaps is a reflection of my lack of humility. That is, perhaps I lack the humility to admit that I not only desire, but that I truly need the mercy of God. Without it I am without hope. But this issue of trust is not limited to this.

Trust also requires that we recognize the limitations of our free will. We are free to love God or not. Free to accept or reject grace. Free to beg the mercy of God or perish in an icy vacuum -- void of Love. But on a more basic level there are somethings that we simply must turn over.

Trust requires that when the world is too much with us that we do not try to hold on so tightly that we strangle our own souls by our prideful grip as we try to manage our lives. This is where the humility comes in to play again.

If I trusted, truly trusted, I would have the humility to embrace my utter dependence on Christ, not just give lip service to it.

How easy is it for us to say we trust in God's mercy and love? That we trust he will redeem us and welcome us into heaven? Heaven seems far away, a dream at times in this valley of tears, this shadowland. It is in the now that trust is the most difficult. And by now I mean right now, today, this hour, this week.

If I lack trust about the little things then my trust in the big thing seems shallow, or even a total farce. It seems odd that I have that bigger trust, but that this more basic trust is lacking. It is lacking not in an obvious way though. It's more subtle. As I've mentioned before I tend to neglect my prayer life not when things are going well, but the very opposite. The tougher (read busier & more overwhelming) things get, the more quickly my prayer life falls away. I have too much to handle to pray. I make foolish decisions, hurt those I love, push them away.

There's the problem, I have too much to handle. I should know better. Yes, I have free will and the gift of reason which I must employ, but I am not the one who should be trying to handle everything. It seems as if I don't trust that God can handle it, I have to keep a hold of things. How foolish.

Perhaps though this is my gift from God. He knows me intimately and in this knowledge gives me this capacity for the greater trust as a lesson in humility. It is embarrassing to admit that one can't trust in the most basic way. How many people do you know who have this weird self-reliant attitude when things get overwhelmingly busy? Most I know cling to the foot of the cross on Good Friday, not on Easter morning.

It has taken me nearly a decade to see this connection between trust and humility. I suspect it will take me at least another decade to begin to fully understand the implications of the connection. And of course, a few dozen more to learn from it. By then hopefully my understanding will be directly illuminated by the Light of eternity and not its reflection in the glass.

I have learned to trust a great deal over the past ten years or so. My Oblature is a concrete sign of this. But it is not enough. Ironically I have to trust and open myself more to the requisite grace and mercy of Christ to continue to grow in trust.

What do I know for sure? I cannot grow in humility until I grow in trust. For today at least the glass is not so dark. I must become like a little child who knows that he cannot do everything for himself. Like the child I have no option but to trust. It is only in this trust that my love for Christ can grow.

Jesus told St. Faustina, "Tell aching mankind to snuggle close to My merciful Heart, and I will fill it with peace" (1074). Today let us trust, let us snuggle close, let us be humble like little children. Amen.