It All Boils Down to אהבה Ahavah

We know each of us has a guardian angel. But how often do we ask for his help? The first time I realized my guardian angel was my best hope was when I was scheduled to teach three workshops at a Christian writing conference several hours away by car. I woke up with a horrible migraine and cried as I wondered how I would manage the drive. I did not want to be unprofessional and cancel at the last minute. I cried because there is an element of shame in being chronically ill—I suffer from migraine headaches that can debilitate me for nearly half the days in a month—and I did not want to admit how weak I was. So, I prayed to my angel to bring me safely there and back. I still don’t know how I made the long drive. I put on my Rosary CD, and then listened to the Gospel of John, thinking how beautiful it would be to have Jesus upon my heart if I were to die. Not that I wanted to die. My children were still young. My husband would miss me. And I was loving my writing life even more since we had converted to Catholicism. I wanted everybody to have what I had—Jesus! And boom! The revelation hit me—my guardian angel isn’t here just to protect me from bodily harm but to make sure I get to Heaven. Heaven! That’s the goal. God loves us so much He appoints an angel from the moment of our conception to guard and protect us from all dangers, and to guide us to our eternal home. This awareness, which I’ve had since I was a small child, still astounds me. As a child, I had complete trust in God’s protection. But the problem of suffering, so present in my life, was difficult to reconcile with belief in an omnipotent God. So, at age twelve I lost my faith, and ended my invocations to my guardian angel. But, without my knowledge, my angel was still guiding me. I am very thankful to my angel for protecting me from death during my twenties because had I died then, my intellect so clouded by sin, I might have rejected God’s mercy and gone to Hell. It is by the grace of God, and the patience and long-suffering of my guardian angel, that I’ve been able to hear His promptings and return to God, and when my plans derail, to pray “not my will but Thine”. I am also returning to that childhood state of complete trust and surrender. If I am anxious about anything, I ask my angel to take care of the situation. I call upon the guardian angels of my children when I’m at the brink of losing my patience. I also call upon the angels of the people to whom I want to be a faithful witness. What a comfort it is to draw upon heavenly assistance. Guardian angels carry our prayers and offerings to the throne of God; they come to the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass with us, and if we are unable to attend, as it was for many during the pandemic, we can ask our angel to go in our place to praise and adore our blessed Lord. These heavenly creatures are a gift to us. Let us always remember they are watching over us and want us to reach Heaven! Cultivate a relationship with your angel. They are God’s gift to each of us. Dear angel! Ever at my side. How loving must thou be To leave thy home in Heaven to guard a guilty wretch like me. ~ Fr. Frederick William Faber (AD 1814-1863)

All of us have cried countless tears throughout our lives. But did you know that God has collected every one of them? Why do we cry? We cry because we are sad or fed up. We cry because we are hurt and lonely. We cry because we have been betrayed or disillusioned. We cry because we have regret, we wonder why, how, where, what. We cry because... well, sometimes we don't even know why we are crying! If you have ever cared for a baby, you know the stress of trying to figure out why the child is crying, especially after you have fed them, changed them, put them down for a nap! Sometimes they just want to be held. Similarly, sometimes we too want to be held in the embrace of God, but are conscious of our sinfulness that seems to distance us from Him. From Eyes to God’s Heart The Scriptures tell us even Jesus cried: “And Jesus wept” (John 11:35)—the shortest verse in the Gospel—opens a window into the heart of Jesus. In Luke 19:41-44 we learn that Jesus “shed tears over” Jerusalem because its inhabitants did not “know the time of (their) visitation.” In the Book of Revelation John “wept bitterly” because there was nobody fit to open the scroll and read it (Revelation 5:4). This awareness of the human condition can limit our ability to grasp the fulness of life which God continually offers each of us. Revelation 21:4 reminds us that “God will wipe away every tear”, yet Psalm 80:5 says that the Lord “has fed them with the bread of tears and made them to drink tears in large measure.” So, which is it? Does God want to dry our tears and console us, or does He want to make us cry? Jesus cried because there is power in tears. There is solidarity in tears. Because He loves each person so much that He can’t bear the blindness that prevents us from accepting the opportunities God gives us to be close to Him, to be loved by Him, and to experience His great mercy. Jesus was overcome with compassion when he saw Martha and Mary suffering the loss of their brother Lazarus. But His tears also may have been a response to the deep wound of sin which causes death. Death has consumed God’s creation since the time of Adam and Eve. Yes, Jesus wept…for Lazarus and for his sisters. Yet during this painful experience Jesus performs one of His greatest miracles: “Come forth!” He says, and His good friend Lazarus walks out of the tomb. Love always has the final word. Another beautiful Scripture which speaks of tears and offers an image I cherish is found in Psalm 56:9: “My wanderings you have noted; are my tears not stored in Your flask.” It is humbling and consoling to think that the Lord collects our tears. They are precious to the Father; they can be an offering to our merciful God. Wordless Prayers Tears can heal the heart and cleanse the soul and bring us closer to God. In her great masterpiece, The Dialogue, Saint Catherine of Siena devoted an entire chapter to the spiritual significance of tears. For her, tears express “an exquisite, profound sensitivity, a capacity for being moved and for tenderness.” In his book, Discerning Hearts, Dr. Anthony Lilles says that Saint Catherine “Presents those holy affections as the only proper response to the great love revealed in Christ crucified. These tears move us away from sin and into the very heart of God.” Recall the woman who anointed Jesus's feet with the precious nard, washed them with her tears, and dried them with her hair. Her pain is real, but so is her experience of being infinitely loved. Our tears remind us that we need God and others to walk with us along the pilgrim way. Life situations may cause us to cry, but sometimes those tears can water the seeds of our future happiness. Charles Dickens reminded us that “we should never be ashamed of our tears for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts.” At times, tears are the only bridge for us to reach God, to pass from death to life, from crucifixion to Resurrection. When Jesus encountered Mary Magdalene on that day of Resurrection, He asked, "Woman, why are you weeping?" But He soon transformed her tears into an explosion of Paschal joy as he mandated her to be the first messenger of the Resurrection. As we continue our pilgrim journey, struggling at times to understand the folly of the Cross, may we weep for those things which make Jesus weep—war, sicknesses, poverty, injustice, terrorism, violence, hatred, anything which makes little of our brothers and sisters. We weep with them; we weep for them. And when tears rush over us at the most unexpected moments, may we rest in the peace of knowing that our God catches each one with gentleness and care. He knows every tear and He knows what caused it. He collects them and mixes them with the divine tears of His Son. One day, united with Christ, our tears will be tears of joy!

Q – Jesus tells us that we need to “become like little children” to enter the Kingdom of Heaven, but St. Paul tells us that we should be mature Christians (Ephesians 4). Which is it? A – It is both! But let us examine what Jesus and St. Paul mean, for the virtues of children and of mature believers are different yet complementary. First, what are the positive characteristics of children? They are innocent and pure, they are joyful, and they love wholeheartedly. The mother of a seven-year-old boy named Christopher told me of the time she was telling her son the story of St. John Vianney. St. John Vianney was so holy that the devil once appeared to him and told him that if there were three men as holy as he on the earth, the devil’s kingdom would be destroyed. Upon hearing that story, Christopher started to cry. When his mother asked him what was wrong, Christopher said, “I am sad that there has only been one person that holy on earth. I want to be the second!” This child-like wholehearted love is what Jesus calls us to imitate. Children often laugh because they don’t take themselves too seriously. They can be silly because they are not self-conscious and proud. Jesus wants us to live with that same abandon! Frequently, a young child will give me a big hug – even if I have never met them before! In their innocence and purity, they can love others unconditionally. This is how we are called to behave. Children don’t judge others by their clothes or looks; they see only a potential friend. Jesus calls us to be childlike. But we must distinguish between being childlike and being childish, which means displaying the selfishness, ignorance, and fickleness that also characterize children. St. Paul tells us we should not be children in the faith, but mature men and women in Christ. What does it mean to be mature in Christ? A mature believer has persevered through difficulties, walks in deep intimacy with Christ, and possesses wisdom. I teach at a Catholic school called Cardinal Kung Academy, named after Cardinal Ignatius Kung. Cardinal Kung was a Chinese bishop who had been arrested by the ruling Communist party in 1955 and imprisoned for over 30 years, many of which were in solitary confinement. After years of imprisonment and torture, the authorities brought him to a packed stadium in Beijing where he was expected to deny the Faith. Instead, he stood up in front of tens of thousands and declared, “Long live Christ the King!” With great affection the people responded, “Long live Bishop Kung!” This infuriated the authorities, who increased their torture of the bishop, but he never abandoned the Faith. Here is a disciple who persevered through intense suffering, forging spiritual maturity in the harsh crucible of trials and tribulations. After he escaped to the US in 1986, he testified that it was his daily, intimate prayer with Jesus Christ that allowed him to stand firm in faith. Through it all, he came out without any bitterness or anger, but overflowing with wisdom. So, to follow Christ is to have the beautiful virtues of children –singlehearted, unconditional love; bubbling joy and wonder; innocence and purity – and the tried-and-true perseverance, wisdom, and daily intimacy with the Lord that characterize those who are mature in faith. May we follow Christ living a faith of childlike maturity!

I asked the Lord, “Why, why this cross in our lives?” And He gave me an incredible answer! Like Simon of Cyrene, it is the vocation of every Christian to carry the Cross of Christ. This is why Saint John Marie Vianney said, “Everything is a reminder of the Cross. We ourselves are made in the shape of the Cross.” There is a great deal to unpack in that seemingly simple but profound teaching. The sufferings we experience allow us to partake in the suffering of Christ. Without the willingness to embrace suffering for the sake of Christ, we cannot fulfill our Christian mission on earth. Christianity is the only religion that recognizes the salvific aspects of suffering and teaches that suffering can help us attain eternal salvation—if we join it to Christ’s own suffering. Venerable Fulton Sheen said that unless there is a cross in our lives, there never will be a resurrection.  Jesus himself tells us what is required to be His disciple, “If any man would come after Me, let him deny himself, take up his cross and follow Me” (Matthew 16:24). Again, Jesus says in Matthew 10:38, “He who does not take his cross and follow Me, is not worthy of Me.” Jesus died on the Cross to save the world. After His death, He ascended into Heaven but left the Cross in the world. He knew that anyone who wants to join Him in Heaven will go there by way of the Cross. Saint John Vianney also reminds us that “The Cross is the ladder to Heaven.”  Our willingness to embrace the Cross allows us to climb that heavenly ladder.  There are plenty of ways to destruction, but there is only one way to Heaven—the way of the Cross. Depths of My Heart In 2016, while I was studying for my Masters, my mother began to show signs of weakness. The doctors suggested a biopsy. During Holy Week, we received the report that my mother had cancer. My family was devastated by the news. That evening, I sat in my room and stared at a statue of Jesus carrying His Cross. Slowly, tears flowed from my eyes as I complained to Jesus: for the last two years I almost never missed Holy Mass, I prayed rosaries every day and I gave a lot of time working for the kingdom of God (I was quite active in Jesus Youth at the time). My pious mother was very devoted to Mother Mary. So I asked Jesus from the depths of my heart, “Why, why this cross in our lives?” That Holy Week, I went through a great agony. As I sat in my room gazing at the statue, a thought entered my mind. Jesus is alone carrying His cross. After a while, I heard a voice in my heart saying, “Josin can you help Me carry My Cross?” I realized what Jesus was calling me to do and my vocation became clear. I was to help carry the Cross of Jesus, like Simon of Cyrene. Around that time, I made a visit to one of my mentors in Jesus Youth and shared with him the pain I was undergoing since my mother’s cancer diagnosis. After hearing my troubles, he gave me but one piece of advice: “Josin, in praying for your present situation, you will find one of two answers: either God will heal your mother completely, or else He has no plan to heal this illness but is giving this illness as a cross to bear. But if that is the case, He will also give you and your family the grace and strength to bear it.” I soon came to understand that God was answering my prayers in the second way. But he gave me the grace and strength to carry His cross; and not only for me, but to my whole family. As time passed, I began to realize that this cross of cancer was purifying our family. It increased our faith. It transformed my father into a man of prayer. It helped and guided me to choose the religious life. It helped my sister to grow closer to Jesus. This cross eventually helped my mother to go peacefully to the heavenly Jerusalem. The Letter of James (1:12) says “Blessed is the man who endures trial, for when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life which God has promised to those who love Him.” By June of 2018, my mother’s illness had taken a turn for the worse. She was under tremendous pain, but surprisingly, she remained joyful. She said to my father one day, “Enough of all this treatment. After all, I am going to heaven.” A few days later, she woke from a dream and said to my father “I saw a dream”. But before she could elaborate, Celine Thomas departed from the world, completing her earthly pilgrimage. Over the course of two years, through 30 chemotherapies and two major surgeries, she carried her cross faithfully without relief from her pain. I am now certain that she is looking upon the glory of Christ, face to face. The Secret Can we imagine our Lord telling us, “I have many friends at My table, but very few at My Cross?” During Jesus’ crucifixion Mary Magdalene stood courageously before the Cross. She sought to be with Christ in His suffering.  And because of this, three days later, it was she who first saw the glory of the Risen Lord. This encounter transformed her sorrow into joy and made her the Apostle to the Apostles. The great Carmelite mystic Saint John of the Cross says, “Whoever does not seek the Cross of Christ does not seek the glory of Christ.” The glory of Christ is hidden in His Passion. This is the wonderful secret of the Cross! Saint Peter reminds us, “Rejoice in so far as you share Christ’s sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when His glory is revealed” (1 Peter 4:13). Like Saint Mary Magdalene, if we stand at the foot of the Cross with a willingness to suffer with Him, we too will encounter the risen Lord, and He will turn our messes into messages, our tests into testimonies, and our trials into triumphs. Lord Jesus, I give myself wholly to you through the hands of Mother Mary. Give me the strength to carry my cross after You, all the days of my life. Amen.

Have You Been Formed in Christ? By virtue of our baptism we are called to be missionary disciples. The risen Christ commissioned His followers to carry out His mission: “Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit” (Matthew 28:19). To do that, we need to be empowered, formed in Christ. What does that mean? A good place to start is John 15: “I am the true vine, and my Father is the vine grower. He takes away every branch in me that does not bear fruit, and everyone that does He prunes so that it bears more fruit” (John 15:1-2). To be transformed, we need to be pruned by prayer and suffering. While prayer is necessary to participate in the divine life, it is suffering that can break down boundaries separating us from God. At certain points in life—such as during profound loss, rejection or failure—we lose control. Sooner or later, we all find ourselves in a place of pain. At these moments, the Lord is with you in your pain. He has suffered it all and He loves and sustains you in being, every moment of your existence. Collapsing into His arms, uniting yourself with Him, you can do the impossible. If you have been betrayed, rejected or harmed, you will be able to forgive through His grace. Forgiveness is such a key component for transformation. When we do not forgive, we stay stuck in the painful experience. Our relationships with God, others and ourselves are stifled. When you allow Christ to take over, forgiveness happens and the pain is released. It almost happens in spite of you. It happens when you say “Yes” to God’s will, just as our Blessed Mother did at the Annunciation: “I am the handmaid of the Lord. Let it be done according to Your Word” (Luke 1:38). Have You Fallen in Love With Jesus? Ironically, for some Catholics, this invitation seems strange. Many Catholics have a hard time even saying the name Jesus, let alone saying “I love Jesus” because it seems so Protestant or evangelical. You are made in the image and likeness of God. He is love, so you are made to love and be loved by God. As a beloved child of God, how can you be afraid of God, whom Jesus invites us to call Abba or Daddy? That is why Jesus says further along in John 15, “I no longer call you slaves, I call you friends.” This is the friendship model of genuine religion. As Saint Catherine of Genoa said, “My deepest me is God.” A thousand years prior to Saint Catherine, Saint Athanasius, who did so much to fight against Arianism and contribute to the Nicene Creed, said “The Son of God became Man so that man could become God.” To participate in this reality is transformation. That is why Christian ministry re-grafts the true self into the experience of the Triune God. That is why suffering is not the worst thing that can happen to you, because it seems it is the most effective way to die to the false self. The cross leads to resurrection. That is the Paschal Mystery, which we are called to live every day. What happens to Christ Jesus is meant to happen to us, because we are members of His mystical body, the Church. Saint Ignatius of Antioch put the necessity of suffering in this way: As the Body of Christ, the Church, we are meant to go through the same process of transformation that is brought about by suffering. The important thing is to find God in the midst of your afflictions. Once you can find God in all things, you become indestructible because God is working in and through you.

There is, to be sure, a stress within the Biblical tradition that God is radically other: “Truly, you are a God who hides Himself, O God of Israel, the Saviour” (Isaiah 45:15) and “No one shall see [God] and live” (Exodus 33:20). This speaks to the fact that the one who creates the entire universe from nothing cannot be, Himself, an item within the universe, one being alongside of others. At the same time, the scriptures also attest to God’s omnipresence: “Your wisdom reaches mightily from one end of the earth to the other, and she orders all things well” (Wisdom 8:1) and “Where can I go from Your spirit? Or where can I flee from Your presence? If I ascend to heaven, You are there; ... If I take the wings of the morning and settle at the farthest limits of the sea, even there Your hand shall lead me, and Your right hand shall hold me fast” (Psalm 139:7-12). This speaks to the fact that God sustains the universe in existence from moment to moment, the way a singer sustains a song. What is perhaps the defining feature of the spirituality associated with Saint Ignatius of Loyola—“finding God in all things”—flows from this second great biblical emphasis. Despite His transcendence, God should not be thought of as distant in any conventional sense of the term, certainly not in the Deist manner. Rather, as Thomas Aquinas taught, God is in all things, “by essence, presence and power.” Mind you, since God is endowed with intellect, will and freedom He is never dumbly present, but always personally and intentionally present, offering something of Himself to us. Therefore, the search for God can commence right here, right now, with whatever is at hand. One of the questions in the old Baltimore Catechism was “Where is God?” The correct answer was “everywhere.” Once that truth sinks in our lives irrevocably change, for now every person, every event, every sorrow, every encounter becomes an opportunity for communion with God. The 17th century Jesuit spiritual master, Jean-Pierre de Caussade, expressed the same idea when he said everything that happens to us is, directly or indirectly, the will of God. Once again, it is impossible to accept the truth of that statement and remain the same person you were before. This already graced quality of “all things” functions as the starting-point for Ignatius’ spirituality. Ignatius had been very much on my mind while I was in Europe filming a documentary on his life and teachings for my “Pivotal Players” series. On the long flight from Los Angeles to Rome, I had occasion to enact the principle I just described. Ever since I was kid, I loved maps and so when I find myself on a lengthy plane voyage, I spend a good deal of time with the flight map, which tracks the location of the plane, vis-à-vis landmarks on the ground. I read and watched some videos the first part of the flight and then I slept most of the time we were over the Atlantic, but when I woke I began studying the map with great interest. We were passing just north of Ireland and I could clearly see the indications for Dublin, where my mother’s father was born, and for Waterford, where my father’s grandfather was born. I commenced to think about these men— neither of whom I had ever met—who bore the Catholic faith that eventually came to my mother and father and finally to me, as a sheer grace. As the plane continued its journey across the English Channel, northern France came into view on the map and I saw the great name “Paris.” A slew of memories flooded my mind: my simple room at the Redemptorist House on the Boulevard du Montparnasse, Notre Dame, where I used to give tours to English-speaking visitors; the Institut Catholique where I did my doctoral studies; all of my Parisian friends, teachers and colleagues who accompanied me across those three years; the beauty of Paris on a rainy day. All of it, I knew, was a grace, a sheer gift. Next, I saw we were approaching the Alps so I opened the window screen and looked down on the snow-capped mountains gleaming in the sun. How could I not appreciate this view, which untold generations of humans would not have even imagined possible, as a splendid gift? In a word, the simple study of a flight map toward the end of a tedious journey became a rather marvelous occasion of grace. I wonder whether we would find this sort of experience less anomalous if we mused on the fact that God positively wants to share His life with us, wants to communicate with us. Perhaps the problem is that we stubbornly think of God in the Deist manner and relegate Him to a place of irrelevant transcendence. Then the spiritual burden is on us, to find some way to climb the holy mountain or sufficiently impress a demanding moral overlord. What if we accepted the deeply Biblical notion that God is always already busily and passionately searching for us, always already endeavoring to find ways to grace us with His love? What if we blithely accepted the truth that God can be found, as Ignatius taught, in all things?