Evangelize

This is what kept me going…And look how far I have reached.

One of the main tools the enemy of our souls uses against us is discouragement.

We can be tempted to get overly focused on all that is going wrong, everything that needs to be done, or how we have failed.

If we allow our thoughts to dwell on the negative, that, in turn, can lead us to want to quit or give up. It can cause us to lose hope.

When we are discouraged, motivation drains out of us, and we can feel overwhelmed and paralyzed. Instead of thriving, we plod along, just trying to get through each and every day.

But Jesus wants to give us hope. Romans 5:5 says: “Hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.”

With hope, we know things can be different. We get new life and energy to do the things that God is calling us to do.

The Significant Progress

Many years ago, I had an experience that has become a parable for me whenever I get discouraged.

Some of my friends and I decided to climb Bishop’s Cap, a nearby peak in the mountain range of the New Mexico desert where we live.

We drove to the base of the steep hill and started our hike. It took us about an hour to get to the top.

The rocks were loose, and not having a clear path made the climbing tricky and slippery. When we got to the top, we enjoyed the beautiful panoramic view while eating the picnic lunch we had packed. It was glorious.

Soon, it was time to descend. My legs were already achy and tired, and as we started the steep climb down, I could see our vehicle parked way off in the distance.

It seemed so far away. Down and down we went, often sliding precariously as the rocks shifted beneath our feet. I was exhausted, and it seemed like the truck never got any closer.

At that point, I stopped and looked behind me for the first time since we had started our descent. I was shocked to see how far we had come! We had made such significant progress.

Seeing how much ground we had already covered encouraged me and gave me a new perspective. Suddenly, the truck didn’t seem so distant, and I found new energy and motivation.

In seemingly no time at all, we reached our vehicle and headed home.

Right Focus 

I see that hike as a parable for the spiritual life. Sometimes, we only focus on how far we have to go, how badly we are doing, our many sins, the things we repeatedly bring to Confession, and our lack of progress. But every once in a while, it can be so helpful to look back and say: “Wow! Look how far I have come! I am still running the race, still plodding along, still persevering.”

And if we keep taking those steps each day with the Lord, we will arrive at our destination with His help and grace.

The enemy wants us to get mired down by discouragement; the Lord Jesus wants to give us hope.

Let’s open our hearts to the gift of hope and let the Holy Spirit give us His perspective, always remembering this truth in Philippians 1:6: “I am confident of this, that the one who began a good work among you will bring it to completion by the day of Jesus Christ.”

What would you say if God asked you this question today?

At the dawn of time, God made a universe, created a garden, and crafted two humans. He was directly responsible for everything in their lives, living in close unity with them. Then, they make one seemingly minor decision, and He notices it immediately.

He drops everything to ask where they are hiding. We’re all used to this story. Most Catholics grew up hearing it along with the ABCs. But if you stop to think about it, it is a fantastical tale.

God is omniscient and all-powerful, yet the free will He gave to Adam and Eve let them hide from Him. What exactly did Adam and Eve’s choice do to let them disappear so thoroughly? What happened to God’s original plan for humanity?

Answered on Your Behalf 

God wants us to be independent. He wants us to have total free will, or He never would have made the Tree of Knowledge an option. However, breaking the promise to God by eating off the tree only reduces freedom.

The problem is not Adam and Eve’s new independence from God but their new dependency on sin. They did not become ‘little gods’ as they were falsely promised.

They did not learn the nature of evil but became blind to it instead. Because of this deep divide that the Fall hacked between humanity and God, God had to ask His own children: “Where are you?”

Our first parents hid humanity from His love. We couldn’t answer, so He found a way to answer the question for us without compromising our free will.

He became a human, and when God asked: “Where are you?”, the Son of Man replied: “We’re over here.” Jesus answered the question that Adam could not.

Jesus explicitly told us that no one can go to the Father except through Him. This isn’t to bar us out or block off other paths to Heaven. Humanity is trapped in a cave-in, and Christ is the only one who can lead us to freedom. There is no other path.

The Incarnation is the answer to ‘Where are you?’.

The Best Paradox

When the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, He learned to love as a human loves. Humans love strangely; we can never stop fearing loss on this earth, yet we love all the more fiercely because of that.

Christ gave us human love as well as Divine love. He can empathize with our pain because He went through it. He can understand our motives because He has seen firsthand how clouded the world makes the human mind. But because He is divine, His love will never be corrupted by pettiness, jealousy, unreasonable anger, or any of the other blemishes that love has in the enemy’s camp.

Jesus is the perfect blend of the head and the heart. He is not a demi-god; He is God and Man at once. He is the best kind of paradox.

Jesus came to find us when we hid. Every day, we need to fight to find Him too, and we cannot afford to let the lines of communication go down.

As children, right and wrong are clear. We don’t need a ‘why’ to understand that lying, theft, or cruelty are wrong—it is simply understood. But as we age in a broken world, we grow numb. Evil roots itself in the human spirit.

We need to be aware of one poisonous idea; the mentality that humans are evil, worthless, and beyond hope is simply a tempting lie from the devil. The blame is not all on us. We have been given evil as our birthright, like an ancient inherited curse.

We are under constant attack by the enemy and his temptations, and it is our duty to fight. 

Often, it’s tempting to not ‘bother’ God with anything but thank-yous and requests. Yes, these are important prayers! Thank Him and ask Him for everything you need. But also, talk to Him in the in-betweens, not only when you’re incredibly euphoric or horribly scared.

Talk to the Lord of the Universe while you wait for the bus. Tell Him little and irrelevant things. When you are having a crisis, it will not be so hard to reach out to Him and answer His question of ‘Where are you?’.

Remember what you are made for. Know that He loves you. Never forget that you were created for a life that is high and holy—we are all born to be Saints. Don’t give in to the values of a broken world. Reach for what is best, and God will reach back to you. 

Not knowing the purpose of life? Ain’t you good at anything? Andy Watts shares his story of finding his real purpose and where he really belongs. 

I grew up in an atheist household, and my dad was an alcoholic. Coming from a poor and broken background, I struggled to find happiness. I wasn’t the smartest kid at school and was kicked out of classes several times.

At an early age, I began drinking and got involved with the wrong circle of friends, which led me to drugs. Everything I did was to suppress what was going on in my life—to put a facade to the world. I thought this was normal, but I began to struggle with suicidal thoughts. 

What changed my life was the invitation I got from our school chaplain for a school retreat held in a beautiful Benedictine Monastery called Ampleforth Abbey. I didn’t feel like going, but I did, and in the early hours of that morning, I was surrounded by a bunch of men dressed in black gowns.

I felt awkward, but it was the first time in my life I experienced silence. It was then that I began to question my heart about life and all the suicidal thoughts in my mind. I said in my heart: “Jesus, if you are real, either change my life, or I will take my life.”

I had already planned to take my life as soon as the retreat ended. Nothing spectacular happened as I thought, nor was there a shift in my heart or mindset, but I found this silence that deeply penetrated me. 

That day, when I reached home after the retreat, I found that my dad had stopped drinking alcohol. I was taken aback and thought it might just be a coincidence.

Back in school, I just switched back to living my old lifestyle, and there was a girl in my class who was an easy target. So that evening, when I was with my friends in the Rugby field, this particular girl passed by, and we thought it would be a smart idea to chase her with a flame thrower made with a lighter and deodorant in hand.

Learning the Hard Way

The following day, the Headteacher called me, and for some reason, only I was kicked out of school. That same night, on my way to the shop, I saw the girl across the street and felt angry about what had happened to me.

I thought I got kicked out of the school because she snitched on me. I crossed the road to take revenge on her when suddenly I was hit by a car. I remember seeing my foot trapped under the wheel before I blacked out. On waking up, I saw someone was holding me, and it was this girl whose life I wanted to make a living hell.

How can she hold me at this moment? She could have easily left me on the roadside; after all, I had chased her through the field. As I looked up at her, I thought: “I am loved, and nothing that I can do in my life will ever take away that love.”

This was a pinnacle moment when I found real happiness in knowing and feeling that I was loved. From that day, nothing much changed, but I got this feeling that I was loved and my life was worth living. I was still suffering from my internal thoughts. 

Fortunately, I was accepted back into the school because my High School chaplain hadn’t given up on me. She welcomed me and led me into a relationship with Christ. It wasn’t about reading books but rather an encounter with Jesus Himself and about Him showing me the plan He had for my life.

Further, she took me on a trip to Africa where I met young people like myself who were facing struggles, and yet they desired for life and carried a joy in their hearts.

When I turned 18, my chaplain encouraged me to take a year out in a Catholic Retreat Centre in the north of England, and here, I experienced God moving in my life. 

The Right Turn

God began to speak to me through people and revealed Himself to me in the Eucharist. I moved to Northern Ireland, where I learned about Catholicism. I attended an all boys school there and I happened to tell the lads about my experience as a teenager.

That was a turning point. Sharing my encounters with Christ led to changing the lives of people, and I found the purpose of my life.

I began to serve by leading young people to Christ, and many of them had to deal with their internal battles and yet could find wholeness in Christ.

Fulfilling His plan for my life, I found joy, and it is this joy that helps me stand before youngsters and tell them about Jesus. 

One day, I asked my dad what led to his alcohol addiction and why there was so much pain and hurt in him.

He told me that as a young man, he once had an argument with his mom, and like any teenager who freaks out, he stormed-upstairs and slammed the door, shouting at his mom that he wished she was dead, forgetting that the very next day she had to undergo a surgery at the hospital.

The next day, his mom passed away on the operating table. For the rest of his life, he blamed himself for killing his mom, and that brokenness led to alcoholism. I understood then that things get passed down the line in a family, and unfortunately, those struggles passed down from my father and my mother to me.

After the Unbound session, I was in bed that night, and memories came flooding back. Jesus made me realize that I didn’t take my life that day because Jesus wanted my life. He wants me to live for Him, and I know this through my work in youth ministry.  

Be Grateful

Today, young people from different walks of life are in search of happiness because they feel broken inside. It has been an honor to stand before them and explain that every day is a blessing. Jesus is the only one who can bring real and lasting happiness and fulfillment to our lives. 

Once, when I was before Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament, I felt overwhelmed with the revelation that there was a door that was closed halfway, and Jesus smashed open that door. Everything that I’d learned and experienced was from my heart and not from my mind anymore. Now I live from my heart that Jesus healed. Truly, He saved my life. 

*Unbound, founded by Lay Catholics, is an international non-profit ministry that focuses on the marginalized and vulnerable.

Program Article – Jesus My Savior (https://share.shalomworld.org/672d956e4c79482a538cc099/episode/How)

I have been reading, with both profit and delight, Thomas Joseph White’s latest book: The Incarnate Lord: A Thomistic Study in Christology.

Father White, one of the brightest of a new generation of Thomas interpreters, explores a range of topics in this text—the relationship between Jesus’ human and divine natures, whether the Lord experienced the beatific vision, the theological significance of Christ’s cry of anguish on the cross, His descent into Hell, etc.—but for the purposes of this article, I want to focus on a theme of particular significance in the theological and catechetical context today.

Father White argues that the classical tradition of Christology, with its roots in the texts of the Gospels and the Epistles of Paul, understood Jesus ontologically, that is to say, in terms of His fundamental being or existential identity; whereas modern and contemporary Christology tends to understand Jesus psychologically or relationally.

And though this distinction seems, prima facie, rather arcane, it has tremendous significance for our preaching, teaching, and evangelizing. 

In the famous scene at Caesarea-Philippi, Jesus turns to His Apostles and asks: “Who do people say that I am?” He doesn’t ask what people are saying about His preaching or His miracle-working or His impact on the culture; He asks who they say He is.

Saint John’s Gospel commences with a magnificent assertion regarding, not the teaching of the Lord, but rather His being: “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God…and the Word was made flesh and dwelled among us.”

In his letter to the Philippians, Saint Paul writes: “Though He was in the form of God, Jesus did not deem equality with God a thing to be grasped at,” implying thereby an ontological identity between Jesus and the God of Israel. 

Following these prompts—and there are many others in the New Testament—the great theological tradition continued to speculate about the ontology of the Founder.

Councils from Nicea to Chalcedon formulated ever more precise articulations of the being, nature, and person of Jesus, and the most significant theologians of the early centuries—Origen, Irenaeus, Gregory of Nyssa, Maximus the Confessor, Augustine, etc.—tirelessly speculated about these same matters.

This preoccupation with the being of Jesus signals, by the way, a major point of demarcation between Christianity and the other great religions of the world.

Buddhists are massively interested in the teaching of the Buddha, but they are more or less indifferent to the ontology of the Buddha; no self-respecting Muslim worries about the existential make-up of Muhammad; and no Jew is preoccupied with the ‘being’ of Moses or Abraham.

Father White points out that the time-honored practice of ontological speculation regarding Jesus comes to a kind of climax with the meticulously nuanced teaching of Saint Thomas Aquinas in the High Middle Ages. 

However, commencing in the eighteenth century with the thought of Friedrich Schleiermacher, Christology took a decisive turn. Attempting to make the claims of the Christian faith more intelligible to a modern audience, Schleiermacher explained the Incarnation in terms of Jesus’ relationship to and awareness of God.

Here is a particularly clear articulation of his position: “The Redeemer, then, is like all men in virtue of the identity of human nature, but distinguished from them all by the constant potency of His God-consciousness, which was a veritable existence of God in Him.”

Armies of theologians—both Protestant and Catholic—have raced down the Schleiermacher Autobahn these past two hundred years, adopting a ‘consciousness Christology’ rather than an ‘ontological Christology.’ I can testify that my theological training in the seventies and eighties of the last century was very much conditioned by this approach.

Father White strenuously insists that this change represents a severe declension in Christian theology, and I think he’s right.

The abandonment of an ontological approach has myriad negative consequences, but I will focus on just a few.

First, it effectively turns Jesus into a type of super-Saint, different perhaps in degree from other holy people, but not in kind. Hence, on this reading, it is not the least bit clear why Jesus is of any greater significance than other religious figures and founders.

If He is a Saint, even a great one, well people can argue so is Confucius, so is the Buddha, so are the Sufi mystics and Hindu sages, and so in their own way are Socrates, Walt Whitman, and Albert Schweitzer.

If Jesus mediates the divine to you, well and good, but why should you feel any particular obligation to propose Him to someone else, who is perhaps more moved by a saintly person from another religious tradition?

Indeed, if ‘God-consciousness’ is the issue, who are we to say that Jesus’ was any wider or deeper than Saint Francis’ or Mother Teresa’s? In a word, the motivation for real evangelization more or less dissipates when one navigates the Schleiermacher highway.

More fundamentally, when the stress is placed on Jesus’ human consciousness of God, the spiritual weight falls overwhelmingly on the side of immanence. What I mean is our quest for God, our search for the divine, and our growth in spiritual awareness become paramount, rather than what God has uniquely accomplished and established.

When the Church says that Jesus is God, She means that the divine life, through the graceful intervention of God, has become available to the world in an utterly unique manner.

She furthermore means that She herself—in Her preaching, Her formal teaching, in Her sacraments, and in Her Saints—is the privileged vehicle through which this life now flows into human hearts and into the culture.

It is easy enough to see that the transition from an ontological Christology to a consciousness Christology has conduced toward all manner of relativism, subjectivism, indifferentism, and the attenuation of evangelical zeal. 

One of my constant themes when I was professor and rector at Mundelein Seminary was that ideas have consequences.

I realize that much of what Father White discusses in his book can seem hopelessly abstract, but he is in fact putting his finger on a shift that has had a huge impact on the life of the post-conciliar Church.

Are you joyful or glum? Do you find it exciting, or are you just going through the motions?

“God so loved the world that He gave His only-begotten Son” is the key to and, indeed, the very heart of the Gospel.  The Gospel message is not a slogan or a brand label that distinguishes Christianity from other religions; it is not an idea or a doctrine; it is not a self-help theory to attain happiness.

Rather, it is about a person, Jesus himself, whom the Father has given to us so that we might have eternal life. Jesus becomes the source of our joy, the feeling in the soul that comes from the experience of being accompanied and loved every moment of our journey towards our eternal destiny. 

God the Father has always looked upon us with love; it’s as though He can’t help Himself because, as the evangelist proclaims in his First Letter: “God is love” (1 John 4:8).  And, for the sake of love, He came among us in the flesh of His only begotten Son.

In Jesus, He went in search of us when we were lost following the rebellion against God in the Garden (cf. Genesis 3). In Jesus, He came to raise us when we fell. In Jesus, He weeps with us when we experience crushing loss and heals our wounds. In Jesus, we are never lost; we are always loved.  

Boundless Love

If hearing about God’s love for you does not expand your heart and make you appreciate the immensity of God’s love for you, one may ask what is going on?! Maybe we prefer a glum, dour Christianity about rules and regulations with its inherent rewards and punishments.

Maybe we’re just sad because, to put it bluntly, we’re just self-absorbed even though we profess to be disciples of Jesus. If that’s the case, we then need to hit the pause button and really listen to the Good News, on a daily basis.  God loves you so much that He gave His entire life for you. If that doesn’t make you joyful, what more can God do to convince you?

In turn, since you are made in the image of God, who is Love, this surely means we are most human when we love.  That is the key to understanding your life, which is no longer about you, but about God, who is self-giving generosity. 

It is awesome to witness elderly couples who love each other so much that they give their lives to each other ‘until death do we part.’  They get it! In the end, it’s not how productive we were or how much wealth we generated, or how successful we were; rather, the only thing that really matters is the love that we were able to give and receive.  That is God’s stuff!

Q – I am discerning my vocation. Some of my friends tell me that if I don’t choose what God has designed for me, I’ll suffer, and might even lose my salvation. Is that true?

A – We have only one life to live, and it is indeed important to live it according to the plan that God has written on our hearts. But how can we know what that plan is, and what happens if we ‘miss the boat’?

We often make discernment far harder than it is. God often wants us to know His will even more than we want to know it! But we have to look at the signposts that God has placed in our life.

First, ‘What are your holy desires?’ What desires has God placed on your heart – and why are you motivated to desire those things?

For example, if someone has a desire to be a doctor so that they can help the sick, performing daily a powerful work of mercy, then this desire is likely from God.

By contrast, if someone has a desire to become a doctor so they can be rich and buy a Ferrari, then that desire is likely not from God.

What desires do you have, and are you motivated by these things by a desire to use your life for His glory and the service of our brothers and sisters? Please note that this is only one aspect of discernment.

Sometimes, God gives desires that He will not intend to fulfill for reasons we cannot yet see. Perhaps we will meet someone along the way who will impact our lives; maybe we will have experiences that will form and shape us, even if we are not able to achieve all of our desires.

But what if we have conflicting desires? What if a man wants both priesthood and marriage, for example? In that case, follow the supernatural desire over the natural desire.

Every healthy person has a desire for marriage, but some people have a supernatural desire to give it up and consecrate themselves for Christ.

Every natural person desires a comfortable life, while some people also feel called to give that up and live a life of more radical simplicity, such as a missionary life.

If you feel the supernatural vocation to an objectively higher and holier way of life, a life of more self-sacrifice for God, then follow that – because supernatural desires, if they follow from pure motivations (the glory of God and the salvation of souls), almost always have a supernatural origin.

Second, ‘What are your gifts and talents?’ We must look objectively at what God has already given us to discern where He wants us to go. For example, the young man who desires to be a professional athlete but struggles even to make his high school team might want to consider that perhaps God has a different plan.

In contrast, if someone is particularly adept at math, this might be a sign that God has called them to a career as a scientist, engineer, or professor. Although it is laudable to try to overcome our weaknesses so that we can ‘achieve our dreams’, it’s also true that God usually equips us with the specific gifts we need to fulfill His mission.

Third, ‘What outside confirmation have you received?’ A man who feels that God is calling him to marry Sally should make sure that Sally agrees! A person who has discerned that God wants him to take a certain job will be sure it’s God’s will if the company hires him! So, what do we do if doors close on something we think is God’s will?

It is perfectly all right to give God an ultimatum. One could say: “I will try this one or two more times, but if the doors keep closing, I will know this is not Your will, O Lord.”

Finally, ‘Do you have peace?’ Do you have peace when you think about a certain course of action? Peace is usually a good sign that God is in the midst of it!

So, if we have gone through all four steps, then we can be confident that we are following God’s will the best we know how. God will bless our efforts to discover our vocation – He doesn’t want to hide it from us!

The challenge is that we almost never know our vocation until we’ve made the commitment – I could not know for certain that God was calling me to the priesthood until the day of my ordination, just as a married couple cannot be absolutely sure that they’ve found the right spouse until they stand at the altar with them. 

So, without certitude, we make our best discernment and trust that God will bless what we best discern to be His will.

It is only if we completely neglect to do any discernment that we may be unhappy in our vocation. Or, perhaps, if we make a choice out of a poor motivation (such as a man who marries a woman because he got her pregnant, or a man who enters seminary to avoid dealing with a personal issue), then we will also find ourselves unhappy.

But if we truly and freely discern, with authentic freedom of heart, without undue pressure or predetermined conclusions, then we will find happiness in His plan. Granted, every vocation is the Cross–there will be suffering even if we are in the proper vocation.

But we will be granted special graces to bear the Cross if we are in the vocation we have discerned to be God’s call. Even if we entered into a vocation without discernment, we can still be saved, although we may have many more crosses and difficulties.

In summary, do your best to discern, and trust that, even without absolute certitude, you can find God’s will as best as possible – and He will bless your efforts with abundant grace. 

It was my last bouquet for her…

Each week, when I visit my local supermarket, I stop by the floral shop and grab a bouquet of roses to place in my shopping cart. It may seem like an unnecessary indulgence, but for me, it is a necessity. It is my effort to bring a bit of beauty into the home I share with my sister.

The colors vary—sometimes, I am in the mood for a calming peach; other times, I am longing for the drama of ruby red. The vibrancy of the colors fills my heart with joy—a joy that I want to share with my only sibling.

The Bouquet

When I purchase my weekly bouquet, it reminds me of a time when I used to accompany my mother to the garden she kept in the backyard of our apartment building. As she tended to the flowers, I would mimic her, pretending to water the tiny shoots that had sprouted up seemingly overnight. Each spring, the garden would be filled with a carpet of pansies, which I would pick and lovingly present to my mother. Whenever I handed her the flowers, I felt as if I was bestowing on her a beloved treasure. She was my queen, and I loved giving her my prized possessions. Looking back, I cannot imagine loving my mother more than I did during those moments of grace.

My beloved mother left this earth years ago after losing a valiant battle against cancer. Yet, even in her diminished physical state, she retained a regal beauty that could not be denied. I live with the hope that I will be reunited one day with her in Heaven, where transcendent beauty reigns supreme. Flowers accompanied her at her funeral Mass. It was the last bouquet I would present to her, and I felt in that instant that I had given her all I had—just as I had felt as a preschooler so many years ago.

Abiding in Love

Flowers have come to represent for me the loveliness of God’s creation. He did not have to create so many different kinds of flowers, yet He did it to share His goodness with His beloved children. 

The sight of flowers in the spring and summer symbolizes new life. With a new season comes rebirth, which can fill our hearts with hope. There is always hope in the Lord—to comfort us, to rescue us, and to give us a fresh start. Nothing can stop His abiding love for us. It is as dependable and steady as the sun rising above the horizon each day.

But in beauty, we meet God face-to-face—a glorious experience which can bring us closer to Him. Given the fact that our bond with the Lord is our most important relationship, beauty becomes an essential part of living in concert with Him.

So, consider allowing beauty to bloom in your life—whether that means purchasing flowers on your shopping trip, painting a landscape, or snapping a photo of a sunset. As beauty shines forth, so will the immeasurable love of your heavenly Father. 

This is the best paradigm of master-slave dynamics the world has ever seen…

In the early ‘60s, an emerging blue-rock band, The Rolling Stones, let loose a misogynistic song, Under My Thumb, that illustrates a certain social dynamic. We hear:

Under my thumb
The girl who once had me down
Under my thumb
The girl who once pushed me around …

It’s down to me, yes it is
The way she does just what she’s told,
Down to me, the change has come
She’s under my thumb,
Ah, ah, say it’s alright.

As offensive as these lyrics are, they contain a paradigm of the dominant consciousness of a society of how people relate to each other in the political, economic, and social domains. 19th-century German philosopher Friedrich Hegel explained this dynamic with his notion of the master-slave dialectic, which said that one’s sense of self-worth is directed towards someone who is perceived as unequal to oneself.

Like The Rolling Stones, Hegel is talking about very dark social relationships in which the ego seeks to be in control, to dominate others to obtain one’s needs and to obtain privilege and status. So, the world is divided into insiders and outsiders— those at the top and those at the bottom. Or, as Bruce Springsteen once sang: “Down here, it’s just winners and losers, and Don’t get caught on the wrong side of that line” (Atlantic City from Nebraska).

For those who are on the winning side, they want to keep things the way they are because the status quo works to their advantage. So, the master-slave dialectic seems to work at all levels.

Along God’s Way

Now, even before Hegel et al., the authors of the Old Testament were concerned about this problem because their central story was the Exodus Experience, which was a movement from oppression to liberation in which God identifies with the oppressed and resists the oppressor.

God, working through Moses, brings the people out of servitude and guides them to the Promised Land—a state of justice and human flourishing. In doing so, God overcomes the master-slave dialectic, which is the central work of the God of Israel.

Now, fast-forward 1200 years to Yeshua, Jesus of Nazareth, around 33 A.D., who appears in the hills of Galilee. On the lips of this young man who spoke as one having authority was the message that the Kingdom of God was at hand. That is, God’s way of ordering things is coming about, and this Kingdom is perfectly personified in Jesus.

What God has in mind in how we organize ourselves radically differs from the master-slave dialectic. What does Jesus have in mind when he proclaims and lives in the Kingdom of God?

The best source is the Sermon of the Mount in Matthew’s Gospel, chapters 5-7. In the Kingdom, we wouldn’t be hungry and thirsty for domination, but we would hunger and thirst for righteousness. Rather than clawing for the highest position, we should embrace mercy, tenderness, and compassion. Not stuck in the dreadful lex talionis: “An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth” ethic, but if someone slaps you on the right cheek, show him the other.

If someone takes your outer garment, give him your shirt as well. And love not just your neighbor but your enemy as well. With that background in mind, Jesus will put into action His teachings in a very strange episode during the Passover Meal by washing the feet of his disciples (cf. John 13:1-20). Jesus will radically overturn the master-slave dynamic by becoming the slave, the servant.

At the Last Supper, He takes off His outer garment and puts a towel around His waist in the posture of a slave. Then He proceeds to do something that is so low that only the lowest slave would be expected to do. He begins to wash their feet.

Peter was so shocked that he protested and said to Him, “You will never wash my feet.” Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no share with Me.”(John 13:8)

How To Be Kingdom People?

Just as the Israelites passed through the Red Sea, the Washing of the Feet is a radical new beginning: Peter, do you want to be a member of the Kingdom of God that I proclaim? Do you want to participate in this new way of being? If so, you must pass through the waters of washing the feet of others and see yourself humbly serving them.

The movement of the Exodus Experience to the Washing of the Feet leads us to the Eucharist. Knowing how challenging it will be to become Kingdom people, Jesus chose to be always with us. We hear in Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians:
“On the night when He was betrayed, took a loaf of bread, and when He had given thanks, He broke it and said, ‘This is My body that is for you. Do this in remembrance of Me.’ In the same way, He took the cup also, after supper, saying, ‘This cup is the new covenant in My blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of Me.’”(1 Corinthians 11:23-25)

This is the climax of Jesus’ public ministry, which will express the fullness of the Kingdom of God. What does Jesus do when He sums up what His life and ministry are all about?  He gives himself away!  “This is My body”—for a first-century Jew, that meant this is me; this is my person.  “This is My blood”—everything I am is poured out for you.

The Washing of the Feet is where the master becomes the slave. It challenges us to make our lives one of self-giving generosity as a template for all our relationships. Giving away His body and blood is our initiation into the dynamics of the Kingdom of God, which is why the Eucharist is the ‘fount and summit’ of our worship and life. How can we contrive to undermine the dynamics of the master-slave dialectic and give ourselves away?

The Gospel for Easter Sunday is from Saint John’s account of Easter morning (John 20:1–9). We are told that Mary Magdalene arrives at the tomb very early in the morning while it is still dark. She has come to anoint the body of the Lord, which had been buried in haste because of the onset of the Passover. She spies the great stone rolled back and assumes that the body has been stolen. So she runs immediately to Simon Peter and the other disciples: “They have taken the Lord from the tomb, and we don’t know where they put him.” She doesn’t yet believe in the Resurrection, for she is operating still within a conventional framework.

So the two disciples, Peter and John, make a mad dash toward the tomb, the younger John outpacing the older Peter. What an odd detail, by the way—so peculiar in fact, that it led the novelist Graham Greene to accept the historicity of the account. Upon coming to the open tomb, John looks in and sees ‘the burial cloths.’ Then Peter arrives and spies the same clothes, as well as the cloth that had covered his head ‘rolled up in a separate place.’ Have you ever wondered why there is such an emphasis on the burial cloths? The most obvious reason is that their presence is peculiar. If the body had been stolen, why would the thieves have bothered taking the elaborately wound cloths off, and why in the world would they have taken the time and effort to fold the head cloth up so carefully?

But might they also be mentioned so prominently because they were treasured by the early Church? And might at least the principal cloth exist to this day? I’m speaking, of course, of the famous Shroud of Turin, which for centuries has been reverenced as a relic of the Crucifixion. I had a chance to see the shroud in 2010, when I was a visiting scholar in Rome and the cloth was exposed briefly for public display. It is remarkably long—long enough indeed to have covered a body front and back. On it can be seen, plainly enough, rust-colored markings that suggest the frontal and dorsal sides of a man about thirty years of age. Marks of violence can be seen on him, wounds from whipping and, quite clearly, from crucifixion—great gashes in the wrists and feet, as well as a gaping wound in the side of the torso.

However, the most remarkable feature of the shroud was revealed only in 1898, when it was photographed for the first time. When the photographer, a man named Secondo Pia, developed the film, he noticed that the negative of the photo revealed an exquisitely detailed depiction of the man of the shroud, anatomically exact to a degree that no artist could have produced. So, what we see of the shroud, he concluded, is itself a kind of photographic negative. And when scientists pored over the detailed version, what they saw took their breath away. Not only was the anatomy perfectly correct, but the details of the wounds were telling, corresponding to the very sort of scourges that ancient Romans used. The ‘crown’ of thorns was more of a cap, and the wound in the side gave evidence of both blood and pericardial fluid: the blood and water that Saint John spoke of. Furthermore, traces of coins, bearing the inscription of Pontius Pilate, could be seen covering the eyelids. Also, seeds and pollen from the Middle East were found within the strands of the fabric.

How was the image formed? Here, the scientists were truly stumped, for absolutely no trace of paint or pigment could be found, and the marks did not work their way down into the fabric but colored only the very surface of the shroud. The closest they could come to naming it accurately was to refer to it as a ‘scorch,’ something caused by an intense burst of radiation—which would furthermore explain the photographic negative quality of the image.

What in nature would produce such a phenomenon? Nothing that we know. Does it indicate the fact of the Resurrection, when in a great burst of light and energy, the body of Jesus was brought back to life? The extraordinary and mysterious Shroud of Turin speaks to us a great Easter truth—namely, that at the heart of Christianity stands, not a myth or a legend or a symbol, but a fact, the bodily Resurrection of Jesus from the dead. It was this historical truth that sent the first Christians careering around the world to announce the ‘Gospel,’ which means ‘good news.’ They were not trading in philosophical abstractions or spiritual musings; rather, they were grabbing their interlocutors by the shoulders and telling them that something had happened.

When Saint John entered the tomb and saw the burial cloths, he ‘saw and believed.’ There was something about those wrappings that convinced him. I wonder whether the same thing is true today in our hyper-skeptical age. We, too, can see the cloth in which Jesus’ body was wrapped, and we understand it far more thoroughly than Saint John ever could have. Does it cause us to ‘see and believe?’

ARTICLE originally published at wordonfire.org. Reprinted with permission.

Once you reach a certain age, you start seeing the real beauty embedded within.

As a young girl of nine, I was captivated by an embroidered image of the Last Supper that hung in my grandfather’s home. Amidst the scene of disciples engaged in lively conversation, my eyes were drawn to Jesus. In His gaze, I felt an inexplicable connection, a sense that He was speaking directly to me. Despite my limited understanding of the event’s significance, I knew instinctively that Jesus was calling me to something profound. I had not yet received any formal religious instruction, but His presence in that image ignited a spark within me as if He were inviting me to join Him at His table to share in the intimacy of His love.

Through the Sacraments of the Church, I have since come to understand the full meaning of the Last Supper as a testament to Jesus’ sacrifice and a source of grace. But it was that initial encounter, that silent exchange of glances across the centuries, that first opened my heart to the transformative power of His love. A seed was planted that day.

In the annals of the sacred history, the Last Supper stands as a pivotal event that forever etched itself into the tapestry of our faith. It was a profound gathering where Jesus shared a final meal with His beloved disciples on the eve of His crucifixion. This sacred occasion holds immense significance not only for the faithful but also for each of us as individuals, evoking not only a commemoration of Jesus’ sacrifice but also an invitation to a personal encounter with Him.

The Lean of Love

Among the interactions that took place during this sacred event, one detail stands out for me—the affectionate gesture of the disciple John leaning into Jesus. A simple yet meaningful act that speaks volumes about the deep bond shared between Jesus and His beloved disciples.

In John 13:23-25, the Gospel provides a unique insight into this moment. It describes how John, known as ‘the disciple whom Jesus loved,’ was seated next to Jesus at the low table during the Last Supper. As the disciples reclined to dine, John leaned back against Jesus, a gesture that symbolized familiarity, trust, and friendship in the cultural context of the time. This physical closeness allowed John to speak to Jesus privately and seek His guidance, showcasing the intimacy and trust that existed between them. This scene captured my heart—it conveyed a sense of closeness as if John had sought to share in Jesus’ Passion by drawing near Him. The act of leaning against Jesus illustrates the deep bond and affection that characterized their relationship, emphasizing John’s unique position as a beloved disciple. By entering ourselves into that same narrative, we too can encounter that same friendship.

Windows to the Divine

In the realm of sacred art, holy icons such as the depiction of the Last Supper serve as more than mere images—they act as windows to the spiritual dominion, offering a visual representation of the divine. When we approach these icons with a contemplative and receptive attitude, we open ourselves to a deeper awareness of God’s presence and allow the image to elicit a powerful response from our hearts.

Personally, as I reflect on the Last Supper, I realize that it has been an invitation into a close friendship with Jesus. In moments of quiet contemplation before this sacred image, I have felt drawn to lean on Him with familiarity, seeking His guidance and solace for the questions that weigh on my heart. And in those silent moments deep within, Jesus answers me. This sacred visual representation has served as a portal to a deeper connection with Christ, inviting me to share in His love and grace.

As a Catholic convert, I have come to understand the deeper spiritual significance of the Last Supper and its connection to the sacrament of the Eucharist. In this transformative moment of communion, when Jesus instituted the Eucharist, where bread and wine are transformed into His body and blood, I unite myself with Jesus, acknowledging the spiritual significance of the Last Supper and embracing its transformative power in my life.

This powerful sacrament allows us to partake in a mystical union with Christ, nourishing our souls and strengthening our relationship with Him. If we truly understand this, then we simply cannot deny that Jesus is present in the Eucharist. The anticipation of the Heavenly banquet, as alluded to by Jesus Himself, instills in me a sense of hope and perseverance, sustaining me in times of trial. As I partake in the Eucharist, I anticipate the day when we will share in the eternal feast with Christ in Heaven, anchoring our faith in the promise of divine and eternal communion.

Q – I have a very solid prayer life, but I struggle with fasting. Is fasting really necessary for spiritual life? Do we have to fast outside of Lent? How can I be better at it?

A—Fasting has been essential to spiritual life since the beginning of the Church. Sacrifice makes our love for God concrete and tangible—’inscribing’ our love into our flesh, so to speak. A mature Christian who loves God will want to offer something to Him, and fasting is a beautiful way to deny ourselves out of love. So, yes, every Christian should practice some form of fasting or mortification daily!

Furthermore, fasting strengthens our will, making it easier to make virtuous choices. Many of our temptations feature the battle between our flesh and our will. We know that it would be gluttony to have the third piece of chocolate cake, but our flesh desires pleasure. So, fasting—giving up something that we are allowed to have—strengthens our will over our flesh. When I give up a chocolate bar or arise earlier in the morning or take a cold shower, my will becomes stronger, making it easier for me to resist sinful temptations.

Finally, fasting creates space for God to work in our lives. Hunger reminds us of our true hunger for the Lord. Turning off music in the car opens us to His still, small voice in silence. Fasting connects us with the economically disadvantaged, many of whom struggle for enough food. The money saved through fasting can be donated to help meet their needs.

So how do we fast? There are many ways to fast. The most obvious is to give up a certain amount of food. Some choose to skip entire meals, while others restrict themselves to one helping. We can also fast by eating foods that we don’t like. We can fast from other things as well—abstaining from listening to music in the car or browsing Facebook are a few examples. I know a young man who slept on the floor during Lent; others take cold showers or wake earlier, avoiding the snooze button. Anything causing discomfort can be a fast.

When beginning to fast, guidance from a spiritual director or parish priest is helpful. We do not want to fast in a way that hurts our health physically or mentally. I tried to fast from all music once, but since music is how I relax and how God often speaks to me, I soon became quite grumpy and unpleasant without music, so I had to find a different penance! In other words, while our penances should cost us something, they should not harm us.

One other danger to watch out for is spiritual pride. Sometimes, we ‘boast’ about our penances (even in our minds) thinking we’re better than others. Fasting isn’t about trying to ‘earn’ God’s love or ‘prove’ how much we care for Him. Instead, We fast to generously offer ourselves as an expression of love, a response to the love we’ve already received. Even if we can’t fast as often as we desire—whether due to weakness, illness, or daily life circumstances—we need not worry. God’s love for us remains constant and is a gift we can gratefully accept! The most meaningful sacrifices are often the ones God places in our daily lives: our inconveniences, sufferings, labors, and challenges. Offering these to Him can be the truest form of fasting.

In conclusion, I encourage all Christians to incorporate some form of fasting, mortification, or sacrifice into their daily lives, offering themselves to the Lord and making their love for Him incarnate!