A Love Fully Human and Fully Divine

I always have trouble when Christians say, “Jesus had to die on the cross in order to save us.”  It makes me think: I suspect God could have saved us however He liked.

But He did it this way, so here we are.

Humans are thick about the nature of God.  You’ve just been created out of dust and given domain over the earth, and yet you’re unclear on God meaning what He said when He told you not to eat that one fruit.  Never mind ten plagues, the parting of the Red Sea and the drowning of the Egyptian army — did God really say . . .?

The Godliness of God is hard for us to grasp.

Even harder, judging from the pagan pantheons and our own understandable tendency to despair in the face of so much evil, is believing that God is good.  The gods of myth are fickle and self-serving; they come to our aid when it suits their own cause, not ours.

Thus the Incarnation.  Here comes God in the form of a man, which the mythical gods have done in their way, but this one is different.  This one loves the way that men love when they are very, very good men.

Mostly we humans like to push off thinking too carefully about love, because what we want is for the satisfaction of the present moment’s desire to be counted as “good enough.” But we do know real live goodness when we see it.  We honor the sacrifices of those who have given of themselves for others.  We know deep in our hearts that the very best people, the ones who embody Goodness itself, are those who care entirely about others and don’t consider what it might cost to give, they just give.

We know that.

And we’re not very bright about what God is like, so it is helpful for us to see that when God is a man, He loves the way that the very best men love.

***

There were good men living in the time of Jesus, just like there are good men living now.  Men who were heroic in their willingness to do what others needed them to do, in the mission of love and justice and mercy.  The Samaritan.  St. Joseph.  St. John the Baptist.  No doubt others as well.

Pontius Pilate was given the chance to be a heroic man.  His wife had been warned in a dream concerning Jesus, and passed on that message to her husband: Don’t mess with this guy.  Let him go.  Gentleman, recall that you chose your wife for this purpose. You elected her to be the one person whose advice you value most, so don’t squirm when she gives it.

He could have been a heroic man, sacrificing himself for the sake of love, justice, and mercy.  He knew very well that Jesus was innocent — he said so himself.

Instead he chose to be the coward of cowards.  What is the suffering of one innocent man compared to the danger I face?  And it was danger.  He was facing the end of everything, and so he pushed away the plain truth and talked himself into the crucifixion.

***

I do this all the time.  I push away what I know to be the right thing to do, because I do not want to lose some good I’ve convinced myself is more urgent.

***

The difference between God and us is that He’s God and we aren’t.  He’s all-powerful, our powers are limited.

We are capable of being fully human.  We are capable of being entirely the persons God created each of us to be.  We are capable of choosing heroic sacrifice rather than cowardice.  But we would still only be men.  Limited.

God-made-Man remained fully God even as He took on the fullness of humanity as well.   As man, he could be fully the best sort of man, giving of himself entirely.  But He was still God, and thus His powers were not limited.

***

Think of the best people you know.  Perhaps you have moments when you would gladly sacrifice yourself for someone else.  Perhaps you are a parent who would do anything to take on the suffering of your child so that your child can be spared.  Perhaps you see someone in grave danger, and know that if you could, you would give over even your very life to rescue that person.

Sometimes we get the chance to act on that impulse, but usually we don’t.  No matter how fully your heart is filled with generosity and a willingness to sacrifice, your powers are limited.  You would joyfully give your life to save that starving orphan in the war-torn country, but you can’t. You are limited by distance and other obstacles.   Maybe you can’t even give your life adopting some local orphan, because your means or the local bureaucracy or the other people who already require your help prevent you from being able to rescue that other one.

You and I can give everything we have, but we can’t give it to everyone.

***

We also can’t cause our sacrifices to do exactly what we want done.  My abilities are limited.  I can save some people in some situations, but other problems are beyond my powers.  I lack the mechanism to make the rescue happen.

***

Fully Man, Jesus was the best of men.  He was willing to sacrifice everything for the good of others.

Fully God, the power of His sacrifice is not limited.

He can save everyone, everywhere, everyhow.

He can breathe into dirt and cause humans to live on earth.  He can hang on a cross and cause humans to live in eternity.

He has the willingness and also the ability.

File:Caravaggio flagellation.jpg

Artwork courtesy of Wikimedia [Public Domain].

FYI we have a family custom of unplugging for the Triduum.  Some of us will still be on the machine doing things like taxes and homework, but if you’re looking for me, I finally have a legitimate excuse for being gone.  Happy Easter!

Lent Day 43: Not Doing It

Wednesdays are traditionally the glorious mysteries.  I finally got back to praying the Rosary today after a gaping hiatus caused by a succession illness (it is a physical act, and thus requires one or another physical abilities), chaos, and inertia.

What was on my mind as I prayed was my inability to accomplish certain tasks before me, and thus my reliance on God to take care of them.  This is a good problem, because relying on me is not the wisest course, and in any case the tasks are God’s.

Here is a miracle, to give you an idea of the scope of the whole thing: I made a craft.  Not just any craft; one that required both bright colors and straight lines.  Also, I had to do it with supplies that I didn’t have spares of, which meant everything had to be done exactly right the first time.  No sane person assigns me a job like this.  Just never.

So anyway, I get around to the fourth glorious mystery, the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

Do you know what our Lady did during that mystery?

Nothing.

Just laid there.  Didn’t lift a finger.

God did it.

This seems to be the way it works.  Want me to conceive the Messiah? I can’t do that Lord, but however you want to handle this go ahead.  Out of wine?  Son, could you take care of this please?  So you’re saying the plan is that you’re going to die on that cross–? I’m just gonna stand here, and you figure out what the system is.

It’s not that Mary does nothing.  It’s that she does only the part she can do, and lets God worry about the rest.

 

***

Request: If you have a charism for bringing empty jars to the attention of our Lord, please consider joining the newly-formed Catholic Evangelization and Discipleship Intercessory Prayer Team group on Facebook.  It’s a closed group, but any member can add new members.  If you are in the work of discipleship or evangelization and would like people to pray for your mission, please join and post your requests.  (Also: Introduce yourself and I’ll add you to the pinned post of who’s who at the top.) Thank you!

 

File:Albert Cornelis - Assumption of the Virgin - ES BRHM BPV 009 12.jpg

Artwork courtesy of Wikimedia [Public Domain].

 

Lent Days 31 – 42: Enough Already

There are a few spares in the “forty” days of Lent, which makes up for some of the ones you might have skipped.  Most years Lent doesn’t begin on the first of the month, so it’s not as obvious.

I was aware already of the way that attempting a Lenten penance can show you your weakness when you keep slipping up.  You try to carry out some small laudable act of prayer, fasting, or almsgiving, and even that is too much.  You are smaller than you thought.

More stark: When you stick to the penance but flail miserably at ordinary life.  Not because the penance sunk you — quite the contrary.  Rather, because you just aren’t ever all that good at carrying out ordinary life.

***

Outside of Lent, little lapses hide more easily.  Big lapses are robbed of their sting, clothed in busyness and festivities.   When all your actions are played against the bare purple curtain, the holiness-failures are radically more obvious.

Things I’ve learned:

  • If I have to push, push, push through a bunch of logistical challenges — not problems, mind you, just the challenging side of carrying out some good and desired goal — it wears me down.  I run out of willpower.
  • What I think of as my “ordinary prayer life” requires my ordinary life.  It requires pockets of silence and privacy and extra energy that I normally schedule into a typical day.  Even if the way I “schedule” is to shove a rosary in my pocket and pray it during the silent half of never-the-same kid-errands, the space is there.  When the space isn’t there, I’m sunk.
  • Being more tired than usual means I can’t do as much as I could when I’m less-tired.  You’d think by now I’d know this, but I’m a slow learner.

And the killer: My sins run in packs.  Circumstance A leads to Pressure B which leads to Reaction C which transmorgifies into Capital Sin C which, don’t let the name fool you, engenders I-can’t-believe-I-did-that-and-I-don’t-want-to-quit-either sins D, E, and F.

One of the St. Joseph’s Baltimore Catechisms for children reminds us that “venial sin is worse than the measles.”  Oh yeah.  This is worse than the measles for sure, and the measles are bad.

It’s like I can’t save myself.

 

File: Crucifixion of Jesus, Russian icon by Dionisius, 1500.jpg

Icon of the Crucifixion courtesy of Wikimedia [Public Domain].

Blog News You’d Hate To Miss

As Lent winds up, I’d like to let you know about some changes coming to the blog.

Those of you who’ve been reading me since the very beginning know that I’ve gone through a series of transitions as a writer.  I started out as an anonymous homeschool-blogger, just trying to share my experiences and get some practice writing for an audience.  Over the years I’ve been a contributor to other Catholic blogs, magazines, and books, as well as spearheading some projects of my own.

Variety and change are the name of the game.

With that in mind, and having had a week to reflect after the refreshing and fruitful retreat I took last weekend, now seems like the perfect day to share the changes you may see here.  What to look for in the future:

More Hands-On Experience.  Maybe it’s the coloring book rubbing off on me, maybe it’s all the art I post, but something’s having an effect.  From here on out, this is going to be primarily a craft blog.  I envision the bulk of the projects involving hot glue and day-glo pom poms.

Pom-Pom photo by Mvolz (Own work) [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons.  This is roughly what we’re going for, only with colors that are a little more searing.  These, glued to things.  Everything.

More Pop Culture.  Reader, you know how important evangelization is to me.  And every writer (myself excepted) seems to feel that the secret to evangelization is immersing oneself in the interests of the persons being evangelized.  I’m ready to take that advice.  For religious purposes, therefore, from now on when I’m not crafting, I’ll be keeping you updated on celebrity news, the NFL, and How The Gamecocks are Doing This Season.

We’ll continue talking about the weather, too, but that’s not a big change.

Less Depressing Arguing Stuff.   It took a lot of memes to get this through my head, but listen guys: Opinions on weighty matters are out of here like last year.  Giving a reason for your hope?  Some reasons are more equal than others, you know.  We’re going to focus on inspiring quotes from Anonymous. Where possible, I’ll provide an attribution to St. Francis of Assisi.  He probably said something like that anyway.

Same Great Sacred Art, Updated.  You already know I’m not much of a traditionalist — if it’s true, beautiful, good, and approved by the Church, I can work with it, new or old.  With that in mind, I’ll be sharing a lot more music videos.  Trap Masses, primarily.

As for Caravaggio?  Of course I’d never let that go.  But from now on, it’ll be all the great works of antiquity forward, but re-interpreted in the style of “Family Circus.”

You’re gonna love it.

Look for these great new blog experiences as often as once a year!

Lent Day 30: What Makes Me Happy

Do you know what makes me happy? Getting good writers matched up with venues worthy of their work.

More to follow.

(What doesn’t make me happy? Rain so heavy that when a truck splashes by you can no longer see the road.  At all.  I don’t care for that.)

File:S-Bahn at Hauptbahnhof Berlin.JPG

I just like this picture.  Photo by Martin Falbisoner (Own work) [CC BY-SA 4.0], via Wikimedia Commons.

Lent Days 24 & 26-29: The Size of Solidarity

The highlight of the week for L. and I was doing laundry.  We visited and helped out at one of those places where homeless people can come and take a shower and get their clothes washed.

“We aren’t the only game in town,” the director told me.  There were charts taped to the wall with a catalog of services offered in the area — other shower places, where to find clothes, meals, shelters, everything.

It was good we were not the only ones at this, because the place was small: Two showers, three washers, three dryers.  One small combination waiting-and-laundry area, then the private bathrooms in the back, a storage closet, and that’s about it.  In the space of a morning, perhaps a dozen people came through.

By the end of the morning I was convinced we were exactly the right size.   There were enough people that if you wanted to mind your own business you could, but few enough people that there was time and closeness for conversation if you wanted that.

A lady told me the story about when she was five years old and she wanted to run away, because she was mad at her father for not letting her join the Brownies.  She asked her mother to come along, since she’d need someone to cook.  Her mother agreed. They slipped off early on a Saturday morning, but then out in the yard her mother remembered she had a phone call to make before they left.

“Don’t go back in there! Daddy will be up!  He’ll see us!”

“No, I’m sorry. This is an important phone call.  I have to go back in.”

“Who do you have to call who’s so important it can’t wait?”

“Santa Claus.”

“What?! Santa Claus?”

“That’s right.  I have to tell him not to stop at our house anymore, since you won’t be there.”

“Oh.”

“And the Easter Bunny.  I need to call the Easter Bunny, too.”

Having considered the repercussions, the little girl decided maybe they should stay for now.

If we had more space and more showers and more rooms, it would turn into an assembly line.  There’d be separated stations for each step of the process.  The waiting area would be larger, and washing and drying would be in another room.  Maybe folding in yet another room.  You’d barely get to know anyone.

It’s easy to be friends with a hundred or even five hundred people, but it’s impossible to make friends except one at a time.  You would miss that story.

File:Illustrated front cover from The Queenslander December 15 1937 (7960424470).jpg

 By State Library of Queensland, Australia [No restrictions], via Wikimedia Commons

Lent Day 25: Suscipe

The Annunciation should be a bigger feast than it is.

The chocolate chip cookies at lunch were especially good, but I assure you I say this for theological reasons.  I mean seriously, kids: It’s the Annunciation!  It’s the re-beginning of EVERYTHING.  Sheesh.  Festivate!

Also: St. Ignatius is the man.

More also: We’ve got some mighty good priests in this country.

And that’s all for now, back to the feast.  Have a good one!

 

File:Caravaggio - The Annunciation.JPG

Of course I picked the Caravaggio.  I couldn’t be expected to do anything other, once I learned it existed.  View the image detail, the better to feast upon.  [Public Domain, via Wikimedia.]

Wikipedia, by the way, has a nice article on the word suscipe.

Lent Day 23: Bored and Annoyed Just Right

I knew I hit my penance just right this year when I found myself thinking, “I’m not really liking this. But other than that, it’s not a problem.”

What I’m noticing this year is how important it is not to be afraid of the penance you’ve chosen.  If you fear you are harming yourself, you are going to give up.  If you are confident that what you are doing is not harmful, you have a better chance of talking yourself off the ledge.  It can be helpful, in that regard, to try the thing outside of Lent before you commit to a whole season of it.

For some more thoughts on hitting the sweet spot: What Makes a Good Penance? Three Tips for Mid-Lent Adjustments.

***

Meanwhile, a glimpse at my spiritual life, Lent Edition:

8:00 pm: I am so bored at the prospect of carrying out any of the choice of chores in front of me that what I long to do is go off to a quiet place for some contemplative prayer.

8:10: Well, that was a great two minutes of prayer, but now it appears I’m just thinking about random stuff. Not actually praying.  Try to get mind back to praying.  Praying is great!  Love God!  Talk to God! Listen to God! Be with God!

8:15: Okay, actually I’m falling asleep.  

At which point I turned on a bright light and pulled out the review copy of the extremely wonderfully very good book you can hear about soon.  It’s by Julie Davis and as good as her last book, but in a completely different direction.

File:Jeremias-de-Decker-Jacob-Aertsz-Colom-J-de-Deckers-Gedichten MGG 0570.tif

Artwork: Christ in the Garden, Jeremias de Decker, 1656.  Via Wikimedia [Public Domain].

The disciples’ inability to stay awake is the evidence that they had no  idea what was about to  happen.  When you are expecting trouble, you stay awake.  You sleep when you think everything is fine for now.

Lent Days 21 & 22: St. Joseph Delivers the Goods

St. Patrick may have declined on the green candy, but St. Joseph came through with Krispy Kreme.  He came Monday afternoon, in the guise of our crazy-happy-Catholic friends who stopped by to pick up a child from a homework-date, and held out a dozen hot-doughnuts-now.  Can I help it if the Church in her wisdom made Monday a solemnity?

No I cannot.  If you’re going to observe the fasts, be in on the feasts, too, or you aren’t so much a Christian as a Stoic.

So I was obliged in Christian duty to welcome the doughnuts with delighted gratitude, and you’ll be glad to know I did my Christian duty wholeheartedly.

Would St. Joseph Bring Home Krispy Kreme?

There are of course wrong-headed people in this world who have been deceived into believing Some Other Doughnut is a better doughnut, but that is not the question I mean to address.  All we can do for those people is pray; reason has nothing to do with it.

We can, however, reason out the question of: Was St. Joseph the kind of father who’d bring home the doughtnuts?

[Insert for the word “doughnut” the 1st-century counterpart: Some kind of scrumptious but utterly uneccesary low-budget treat that young Jesus would have jumped up and down when He saw it coming, and the Blessed Mother wouldn’t have minded if she did, thank you Joseph, what’s the occasion?]

I argue that he was.

Mary, being preserved from sin, would have been careful with the money.  When she shopped, she would have had in mind the hours and strain of the work Joseph did to support the family.  She would have looked for ways to make the feasts festive, yes, and she may well have had some small savings from her own work that she used for the odd splurge for the family.  But I don’t imagine the Holy Family was overloaded with junk food.

And that, in turn, would give St. Joseph his opening for bringing home the doughnuts.

He who put in the long hours, and worried about savings, and was well aware he’d need money for lumber to patch the roof next autumn — he was a normal man.  Mostly he’d want to make his wife and child happy by providing the daily necessities; but sometimes he’d want to show up at the house at the end of a long day and pull out the donuts.

 

Krispy Kreme Doughnuts, original, out of the oven and on the conveyor belt about to be glazed.

Photo by Neil T [CC BY-SA 2.0], via Wikimedia Commons.  FYI if you like less-sweet doughnuts, when the “Hot Doughnuts Now” light is on you can request a dozen “Original Glazed” un-glazed and they’ll pull them off the line for you at the point shown in the above photo.  Take them home and top them with whatever you like.

 

Lent Day 20: The Things You Learn About Yourself

 Just woke up the boy. Called through the bedroom door, “You are 6 feet, right?”

Tired boy, awake but not ready to join civilization, “Ymnf.”

“Need to know for your passport application.”

He is. Minus one inch for E (they just went back-to-back last night), and the two littles are a mystery.  We’ll have to measure.

[I am, meanwhile, praying the youngest gets tall enough before our trip to no longer require a booster seat in Switzerland.  One less hassle.  So if that prayer is answered, she may be traveling on an already-outdated passport.  All kids do, one hopes.]

Held my breath and put down “brown” for E’s hair color — I can never decide if it’s dark blonde or light brown.  Put down blonde for myself, which it is, mostly, but with the amused awareness that it’ll no longer be that by the time the new passport expires.  My eye color was debated for years — blue or green? — but at 15 standing in the passport office we all agreed on grey with a yellow circle around the iris pupil, hence the confusion.  Grey they are still.  Also I’ve grown half an inch (taller) since my last passport, I know because last fall when we were measuring kids we measured me too.

Thankfully the State Department knows better than to ask your weight.

Oh, you wanted to talk about Lent? Scott Reeves has you covered, as usual.  Self-examination of the deeper sort.

Passport application from 1922.

Scanned passport application, circa 1922. US passport office (US passport office) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. Click through on the Wikimedia link to see whose it was. Ha!