We have ample opportunity to listen to wise words; yet we seem to go our own way – thinking that we know better. Wisdom has been with us since creation; yet we ignore her when we need her most.
Wisdom has much to offer: Straight words, prudence, knowledge and discretion, instruction that is more valuable than gold, silver, or jewels. Wisdom loves those who seek her. Wisdom is strength, righteousness and justice. Wisdom calls out to those who have ears to hear . . .
And now my children, listen to me: happy are those who keep my ways. Hear instruction and be wise, and do not neglect it. Happy is the one who listens to me, watching daily at my gates, waiting beside my doors. For whoever finds me finds life and obtains favor from the Lord; but those who miss me injure themselves; and all who hate me love death.
In today’s Gospel (John 6:30-35) the people ask Jesus to give them a sign so that they may believe. I am astounded . . . and yet, do I not do they same? The people in today’s reading walk with Jesus, they shake the same dust from their clothes that also powders Jesus’ feet and face, they experience miracles at Jesus’ hands . . . and yet they ask for a sign that they might believe.
Wisdom offers her ample generosity . . . yet we ask for more. Or worse still, we decide that we know better.
Wisdom has been with God since the creation. She has dwelt with God from the beginning and she will be with God through the infinity of God’s time and through the enormity of God’s space. Why do we ask for a sign . . . when the sign lives within us? Why do we ask for wisdom . . . when wisdom has dwelt with us from our inception?
Adapted from a reflection written on May 10, 2011.
We have spent time over the last two weeks reflecting on how one might rely on Wisdom when confronted with the conflict between good and evil, the shadowy line between willingness and willfulness. Today we are given a manual with which to navigate the difficulties of life. This manual describes Wisdom, the Supreme Guide.
On the way of wisdom I direct you, I lead you on straightforward paths.
Hold fast to instruction, never let her go; keep her, for she is your life.
With closest custody, guard your heart, for in it are the sources of life.
Put away from you dishonest talk, deceitful speech put far from you.
Let your eyes look straight ahead and your glance be directly forward.
Survey the path at your feet, and let all your ways be sure.
Turn neither to the right nor to left, keep your foot from evil.
When we find ourselves hiding information from others, when we dart sideways glances at one another, when we enter into relationships by holding ourselves away from any true commitment, when God is at the end of the list of friends whose advice we seek, we can turn again to this manual for living. We can take these verses into our hearts.
To my words, be attentive, to my sayings incline your ear; let them not slip out of your sight, keep them within your heart; for they are life to those who find them, to one’s whole being they are health.
Adapted from a reflection written on July 25, 2009.
In the first chapter of Proverbs we find many references to knowledge as the source of wisdom and of how fools turn away from knowledge. The last verses even describe God as one who mocks the foolish. In truth we know that we mock ourselves, we mock our creation as a Child of God, we mock the very image of God when we turn away from knowledge and understanding.
For as Isaiah reminds us (55:11), God’s word does not return empty. My word shall not return to me void, but shall do my will. Jesus shows us this in his every act and word.
I am thinking about the hope that we hold and enact each time we step into our work day, each time we discipline ourselves, each time we enact the word we hear each morning on our rising from our creator.
In Proverbs 1 we see: words of intelligence, just and honest, knowledge and discretion, hearing and learning, wisdom and instruction . . . this is God’s Word to us.
In Proverbs 1:13 and 15 . . . All kinds of precious wealth shall we gain, we shall fill our houses with booty . . . My child, walk not in the way with them . . .
In verses 20 to 33 Wisdom warns us of the danger of rejecting her works. As we read these words we are reminded of the Gospels where we see Jesus, God’s Wisdom, rejected so many times because he did not conform to the culture of the corrupt hierarchy, because he called the comfortable to make room for the poor, because he turned the contemporary society on its head. He still turns us on our own heads today. Each time we feel uncomfortable we know that we are called to take a look at ourselves, to listen to Wisdom, to live patiently and hopefully, to follow the Way Christ shows us. We are called to be Christ to others. We are called to express God’s Word to others to the best of our potential. We are called to share and enact the hope God has planted in us.
And so we pray . . .
Dearest Lord, when you send us your wisdom, also send us your infinite patience for we humans are impatient. When you extend your hand, we wish to take it. Make your hand visible to us for we humans have eyes but we do not see. When you call to us, make our hearts open to your voice for we humans have ears but do not hear. When you send us Your Holy Spirit, also send the courage and fortitude that we will need to enact your Word each day. For we humans love you dearly and wish to do your will. We wish to send your Word back to you rather than allow it to return to you empty. We ask all of this in Jesus’ name. Amen.
Adapted from a reflection written on November 29, 2007.
This book of wisdom is full of wonderful, universal sayings that last though the ages; and Chapter 22 is no exception. As we near the end of another year, we often spend time thinking about our relationships, from our most intimate to our most casual. Yesterday we considered how and why we forge and maintain relationships. Today we continue that introspection and we examine the friendships and the value-structure we build.
When we interact with others . . .
Do we take the time, do we practice diligence in reviewing what we say before we say it? Can we look at ourselves through the filter of today’s reading which describes both the foolish and the true friend to place ourselves somewhere along this continuum? Do we find ourselves among those who let friendship come and go like dry leaves before a wind or like small stones lying on an open height [that] will not remain when the wind blows? Or can we say that we work at being a true and constant friend, demanding much of ourselves as we struggle to walk that fine line between openness to reconciliation and refusal to enable abuse?
Fools and friends. We are surrounded by all kinds of people and we are engulfed in all sorts of circumstances. We ourselves are sometimes the fool, sometimes the friend. As we move through a global pandemic, we likely have images of fools and friends who both encourage and infuriate us. Foolishness and friendship at times blur into one another. At other times they are starkly different. When our vision is clouded by too much input and too little truth, we have a true, authentic, and constant Friend. Let us resolve to always look for reconciliation where there are rifts. Let us draw healthy boundaries that discourage abuse. Let us walk in the way shown to us by Jesus. Let us leave behind the habits of a fool and take up the mantle of a true friend.
And let us pray . . .
God creator, when you formed us out of the universe, you had in mind that we would look to you for wisdom and that we would commit to the work of befriending not only the faithful who walk with you but those who linger on the margins as well. Teach us to move away from the tempting life of doing nothing in order that we avoid error. Guard us from the impulsive life of speaking and acting before we think. Grant us the strength to risk even a bit of ourselves just as you have risked all you have in your relationship with us. Move us out of any spiritual sluggishness, and energize us with your Spirit. For our part, we will put aside our willingness to suffer fools lightly or to behave as fools ourselves. We will observe the careful lines between these worlds of fools and friends as we remain open to the reconciliation you ask all of us to seek. As we prepare to enter into a new season and a new cycle of our lives, we pledge this in Jesus’ name. Amen.
First written on December 28, 2010; re-written and posted today as a Favorite.
This chapter opens with some marvelous images of those who are lazy: The sluggard is like a stone in the mud; everyone hisses at his disgrace. The sluggard is like a lump of dung; whoever touches him wipes his hand. Images of people I have known through my life move before me in a motion picture of stories I had forgotten. They are awakened today as I read about unruly children, a hussy, fools – teaching a fool is like gluing a broken pot, or like disturbing a man in the depths of sleep. Still further on we are admonished to steer clear of brutes and stupid men, people with timid resolve.
Then we arrive at a wonderful didactic piece on friendship in which we are asked to remember that a contemptuous insult, a confidence broken, or a treacherous attack will drive away any friend. And before flames burst forth an oven smokes; so does abuse come before bloodshed. A final warning about the importance of friendship closes this song: From him who brings harm to his friend all will stand aloof who hear of it. But this anthem to friendship seems to me to hinge upon verse 21: Should you draw a sword against a friend, fear not, you can be reconciled.
Finally we read a simple prayer: Who will set a guard over my mouth and upon my lips an effective seal, that I may not fall through them, that my tongue might not destroy me? This last verse of Sirach 22 is an effective morning prayer that any one of us might want to intone as we rise. Who among us has not regretted words that were said in haste or without having undergone serious thought before leaving our lips?
As we consider Fools and Friends,we remind ourselves that the links we create with others and the manner in which we interact with others tell the world about our relationship with God. We pause in our reflection to consider our relationships with others, including God. We take some time over the next twenty-four hours to discover something old and something new about ourselves. We consider what kind of fool we have been, what sort of friendship we nurture, and how much room we make for God in the bonds we forge in life.
To investigate how and why others forge relationships, go to the Blogroll in the column to the right on this blog and choose a link. As we explore, we have the opportunity to discern something new and something old about ourselves; we are offered the opportunity to define the fools and friends in our lives, and what they have to tell us about ourselves. Tomorrow, Part II of Fool or Friend.
This reflection was written upon the death of a friend’s father and is shared today as a Favorite.
Much of life is lived in a confusion of fear and thanksgiving and we find a jumble of these emotions in Psalms 7 though 18. Looking at just the New American Bible titles of these poems gives us a series of jubilant prayers mixed with sorrow-filled ones. It is in this way that these poems bring us a faultless reflection of life.
The fusion of worlds present in the human made in the image of God is a dichotomy which we can either unite our id, ego and superego . . . or it can split us into child and adult separated by a chasm of fear. Fear of what? Fear of suffering. Fear of humiliation. Fear of loss. Fear of abandonment. Fear of loneliness. Fear of knowing that we err. Fear of rejection. Fear of death. And when I think of this litany of pain, I realize that each of these woes is accompanied by a restorative. Joy in celebration. Joy in exaltation. Joy in gain. Joy in companionship. Joy in intimacy. Joy in knowing that we are doing the right thing. Joy in perfect, trust-filled union with another. Joy in life. Our fear-filled humanity struggles with our covenant-honoring divinity.
Psalm 8 brings us dichotomous images announced in the title: Divine Majesty and Human Dignity. We find more in the psalm: earth and heaven, babes and foes, enemy and avenger. The verses that tell all that we really need to know: What are humans that you [God] are mindful of them, mere mortals that you care for them? Yet you have made them little less than a god, crowned them with glory and honor. You have given them rule over the works of your hands, put all things at their feet . . . O Lord, our Lord, how awesome is your name through all the earth!
What a wonderful God we have who loves us to the extent that he creates us, visits with us, loves and comforts us, feeds, houses and clothes us, heals and tends to us, listens to us, blesses us . . . always . . . with constancy . . . with fidelity . . . with dignity . . . with patience . . . through eternity.
We often feel closer in death to the ones we love than we did when these dear ones were yet in this life. These loved ones speak to us constantly now that the physical distances of this world no longer separate us. They bring us the very real presence of the next world with their constant visitation. We cannot see them because of the limiting time and space of this globe but still their existence is real.
We are human. We are divine. And we feel the constant struggle of reconciling these two worlds of self. A human death brings us up short because we are forced to consider if we believe that we are created as gift. We pause to think again about the Resurrection, the forgiveness of sin, life everlasting. We cannot help but reflect on how we have treated this departed one: with the dignity deserved no matter the situation? With the witness of divine majesty? Did we salute the gift of this person while they were still in this life? Did we honor this person while still with us as well as we will honor them in death?
The ones we love who have died linger among us. We love that much. They still laugh when we laugh, cry when we cry. We cannot see them with the eyes of this world, or hear them with these ears. But they are here with us nonetheless. As we are with them. They hold us close. They have not disappeared. Their presence is still felt . . . and it will be . . . forever and ever. Amen.
We have reflected on a number of occasions in our Noontimejourney that it is important to retreat from time to time in order to recoup energy and reorient ourselves. We have looked at the many times the Gospel writers tell us that Jesus goes off, retreats, takes the apostles aside, steps back, is in the temple, prays . . . speaks with God. Yesterday we recalled the simplicity of God’s plan and numbered four steps we might take that bring us to a more intimate and more immediate sense of God in our daily lives. Today we hear about the importance of liturgy and of taking Sabbath time for Sabbath Rest – a time when even God sits back to survey the work of creation . . . and to declare it all good.
The writer of Hebrews calls us back to Psalm 95 to ask: If today you hear God’s voice, harden not your hearts. We might better hear this voice of God if we have a soft and open heart that we prepare by exercising it liturgically. We are reminded of a recent article telling us that scientists have discovered how our brains are wired for liturgy http://ncronline.org/news/faith-parish/our-brains-are-wired-liturgy and so now on a quiet Sunday afternoon . . .
Let us imagine how different our lives might be if on one day of the week the world might stand down from conflict long enough to reflect on our origins and purpose.
Let us imagine how different our lives might be if on one day of the week the world might stand down from greed long enough to give thanks for all we have.
Let us imagine how different our lives might be if on one day of the week the world might put aside jealousy and envy long enough to realize that all that we have we are meant to share.
Let us imagine how different our lives might be if on one day of the week the world might put aside old hatreds and feuds long enough to see that the place to take these burdens is to God alone.
Even God rests . . . so why do we fill every minute of every day with activity? Why do we put off going aside with Jesus to pray a little while? Why do we neglect liturgy so that our brains languish and wither from lack of proper sustenance?
Commentary tells us about Micah 5:4: “This passage, expressing confidence inJudah’sability to deliver itself fromAssyria, is in contrast with the preceding messianic oracle, which ascribes deliverance to the Lord and his agent. Some believe that here the prophet is quoting the words of the defiant men of Judah. The shepherds and men of royal rank are one and the same: warriors capable of routing Assyria”. (Senior 1144)
If this is the case, we might take this opportunity to reflect today on the importance of doing God’s will rather than our own. Easily said, possibly done . . . and done only when we give ourselves over in humility.
Last evening I again had a conversation with a friend about the simplicity of God’s plan: Step 1 – We acknowledge our complete dependence on God. Step 2 – We establish regular communication times with God. Step 3 – We listen. Step 4 – We do what God asks of us.
We know the un-fussiness of this kind of relationship with God when we hear about it in the words of others who always have words of wisdom when cataclysm strikes.
We know the cleanness of this kind of relationship with God when we see it in the actions of others who roll easily into serenity when thrown against an obstacle.
We know the clarity of this kind of relationship with God when we begin to fold ourselves into God’s plan rather than our own.
We know the peace of this kind of relationship with God when we put aside all else to spend our regularly appointed time with God.
There are no short cuts. There is no bravura. There are no quick answers. There is no magic bullet. There are no secrets. There is no club, no group, no party, no onewho satisfies, protects and sustains as does our simple relationship with God.
Micah calls us to this today when he throws our words back at us: I can do anything. I can tough this out. I can go it alone. I can gather my sympathetic friends. I can get away with this. I do not have time for prayer right now. I will think about God later, just now I have my hands full.
Our hands are full because we do not take this fullness to God. Our time is clipped and things are urgent because we believe that we must raise up an army of royal shepherds against the invasion of our plans.
When we believe that our confidence comes from ourselves and not from God, we can make a sure prediction – as does Micah regarding Judah. All of our plans and all of our desires will be abolished as surely as the craven images and sacred poles we read about today. When we come to the end of a road and there is no apparent way to go, it is time to take the confidence in self that we have so carefully nurtured, place it in God’s hands, listen, and then act as directed.
Senior, Donald, ed. THE CATHOLIC STUDY BIBLE. New York, Oxford University Press, 1990.1144. Print.
Written on March 20, 2010 and posted today as a Favorite.
In the first chapter of Luke we witness a series of encounters: the immaculate as she encounters the one who is in the presence of God, two cousins carrying new life, two cousins as yet unborn, and the quiet drama of God’s word coming to live among God’s people. All encounters are holy. Would that we might see them so.
We plan to meet friends for lunch. We arrange our lives to gather for an important occasion. We enter dates on calendars and electronic schedulers. We commit to union with others. All encounters are holy. Would that we might make them so.
We are surprised when we meet a friend from days lived long past. We chance upon a relative we have not seen since a funeral years ago. We find ourselves waiting in queue with a former colleague we have not thought of in the years since we shared a workplace. All encounters are holy. Would that we might make them so.
We bump into strangers in our daily interactions. We exchange currency and salutations with people we barely perceive. We pump gas and load purchases next to people we may never see again. We rent vacation apartments and share cups and plates with hundreds whom we will never meet. We travel in airplanes, trains, buses and taxis and brush against thousands or even millions. All encounters are holy. Would that we might make them so.
We might imagine a life in which we anticipate joy as we meet new people and encounter new ways of thinking. We might picture a life in which conflicts are expressed openly with respect rather than obliquely with silent aggression. We might read Luke 1 and see a girl who steps into danger, fully knowing and fully accepting the challenge that lies before her . . . saying with full and open heart, My soul magnifies the Lord.
All encounters are holy. Would that we might see them so.
Prophet and Redeemer meet before the world is aware of their existence.
Two women clasp one another as they kiss cheeks.
A harbinger arrives, announcing good news that we often choose to disbelieve.
God comes to earth to walk among his people.
Trust in God. Hope with God. Love for God.
Believing that the impossible might be made possible.
All of these encounters are revealed to us today.
All of these options stand before the people we read about today.
All of these possibilities lie beneath the encounters presented to us today.
Let us imagine a life in which each time we look up, we greet the other with warm trust, exuberant hope, and authentic love. Let us picture a world in which we greet and listen to one another with genuine respect. Let us see ourselves stepping forward honestly with hand extended in faithful friendship. Let us imagine the possibilities that lie beneath our encounters, and let us pray . . .
All encounters are holy. Would that we might believe them so.