THROUGH NEEDLES AND CAMELS

Tantalizing! Frustrating! Exasperating! My efforts to thread a strand of wool through the eye of a needle. Many a kindly, pitying person would volunteer, "Why bother? Why waste your time? Let me do it for you."

Why can't people understand my major concern is not that I need a threaded needle. It means so much to me that I, with my poor vision, should prove to myself that I am still able to thread a needle. It may take time. Who cares? I don't! Believe me, the accomplishment, if ever, makes it worthwhile.

I'm rather like the infant who insists on being allowed to climb into a chair rather than have some well-meaning adult lift him up there. So far I haven't reverted to screaming if I don't get my own way! Truth is, it takes all my will-power not to do so! I quietly submit with inwardly fuming gratitude. Poor me! I've been denied my moment of triumph! The ecstasy of threading that needle -all by myself.

My ambitions are modest. They have to do with what was once possible and might still be. They include the striving to extend my capabilities. Others go further than this. At the 2012 Olympics they will seek to break records. But no one will aim to run a one-minute mile! That would be fantastic, unreal -as futile as chasing after a streak of lightning!

And yet it seems Jesus was being wantonly absurd when He compared the prospects of a rich man entering the Kingdom of Heaven to those of a camel passing through the eye of a needle. In other words, by using such an example He made it clear there was no way such a person could work his way through the Pearly Gates. Jesus was forcing His disciples, and now you and me, to ask what must be done to guarantee entry. Or is heaven the 'pie in the sky' that will never be eaten? The tantalizing, impossible dream?

Who's to blame the disciples for being astonished when they heard this and asked, "Who can be saved, then?" And that's the point! Jesus is enabling us to make a quantum leap into the supernatural ...way beyond the normal capacities that flow from within our human nature.

"Jesus gazed at them, 'By human resources,' He told them, 'this is impossible; for God everything is possible,'"

(Matt. 19. 25-6).

Jesus calls us, empowers us to live heroic lives with Christ-like compassion, which generously forgives those who have wronged us. He enables ordinary people like you and me to be willing to endure appalling torture, even suffering martyrdom, rather than deny and betray our commitment to Him.

'Gift, Favour, Privilege, Grace.' All these words describe the wonder of wonders that God should long for us to be willing to receive Him into our lives, and for us to allow ourselves to be drawn into His life, as His beloved children. All this is prompted by love that is merciful, "It is proof of God's own love for us that Christ died for us while we were still sinners," (Rom. 5. 8).

This isn't about our achievements, or our deserts. It's about God's choosing to enter into a sublime relationship with us that not one of us could ever have dreamed of, aspired to or attained, no matter how hard we worked for it.

This is godswaymyway, and I am at my greatest if I allow it to happen.

Peter O.P.

In a fortnight Isidore will reflect on "False Impressions."

GIVING A HAND

"Someone give me a hand, please!" We've all made that appeal when we couldn't manage by ourselves. Perhaps we were a bit shaky on our feet and needed a supporting hand. That's true for me. Although I can still say Mass I now need other steadier people to distribute Holy Communion for me. Their helping hand is not only of practical assistance, enabling me to continue celebrating Mass; it also creates a bond between us. That's true whenever we ask for help or respond to someone else's appeal for assistance.

Perhaps, it comes as a surprise that, Jesus should cry out, "Someone give me a hand, please!" Surely He can't need any help from us! After all, He is Almighty God and can do all that He wants to do, without our assistance. And yet, throughout the ages He cries, "Someone give me a hand, please!"

Now that He's ascended to heaven He needs other people to continue His work, here on earth. Otherwise it won't get done. Almighty God has made himself dependent upon us, His creatures. He needs people to continue to express the love, care and compassion He showed while here on earth. It is to the glory of God that He makes so many of His creatures His fellow-workers. Together with Him we share in developing and perfecting His creation.

"And that's precisely what you do," I told a doctor friend. "As a doctor you continue and share in the work of Christ, the Good Physician. In the past, while here on earth, He performed miracles to cure people; now He uses your professional skills. Now He works through your healing hands. What is more, as you restore people's health you foreshadow the Coming of the Kingdom, when we will all be renewed in Christ. Then we will enjoy the fullness of life in our risen Lord." My doctor friend was glorious in being a co-healer with the Good Physician.

This insight came as an exciting revelation to my doctor friend. Building on his enthusiastic response, I explained that Christ, the healer, identified with the doctor, or nurse, in their caring for the sick. And as they continued the work of the Good Physician they could identify with Him. Not only priests should be called, "Other Christs," but so, too, all those through whom He continues to work. In you the sick meet Christ, the compassionate healer.

The same is true with all of us as we show love and concern for people in any kind of need -the lonely, who welcome company, the depressed who yearn for reassurance, the imprisoned who have made themselves into social rejects. As we come to them they meet the compassionate Christ, working in and through us. For each of us "Other Christs" I paraphrase the words of Pope St. Leo the Great, "Oh, Christian, realize -and remember -your dignity!"

As I turned these thoughts over in my mind I recalled St. Matthew's Gospel, ch. 25. There Jesus identifies, not with the giver, but the receiver -with those in any kind of need, "Truly, I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these, who are members of my family, you did it to me." They, too, are "Other Christs." This time it is Christ who is appealing to us for help. Through them He begs us, "Give me a hand, please!"

As we come to their assistance we meet Christ, who has identified with them. That should change our whole attitude to those whom we may find repulsive. Like the crucified Christ, they, too, may be despised and rejected. And it is remarkable how often carers say that they receive so much from responding to the needs of others. In giving we do, indeed, receive.

As I pulled these disparate reflections together I realized that there's a wonderful dialogue between Christ identifying with the giver and Christ identifying with the receiver -the doctor or carer on the one hand; the patient on the other. Christ identifies with each. Each meets Christ in the other. To each of them Leo the Great would say, "Oh, Christian, remember your own dignity; Oh, Christian, remember each other's dignity!"

Isidore O.P.

In a fortnight Fr. Peter will reflect on: "Tomorow will bring...?"

FAT CAT, HEAVENLY CAT, FELINE BEATITUDE!

The apple of her eye, the jewel in her crown...such was the celestial cat to my long-deceased aunt. It was 'Truffles' who always had the cream from the top of the milk bottle. Aunt had the skimming! Truffles would only eat first grade salmon; aunt had to be content with making the most of third grade. She relished this kind of sacrificial love for her adorable cat. Truffles deigned to accept this as being no more than fitting. Both sides of this engagement agreed that nothing but the best was good enough for this most superior of cats. And Truffles, like most self-respecting, well organized cats, spent most of its life sleeping.

Truffles possessed the smug virtue of one who had never had the need to steal the cream; the complacency of the wealthy who can survive without having to resort to the knavery of robbing a bank. But here I pause to reflect on the white-collared fat-cats who in recent times have engaged in massive financial swindles!

Truffles had the sense to know when enough was enough and the serenity (or laziness) not to go along with the adage that stolen fruit is always sweetest. In fact, Truffles was the embodiment of contentment. Having either been spayed or neutered this sleek, serene creature did not have to wrestle with temptations of the flesh, with all its longings and frustrations. In the case of Truffles, "what had never been enjoyed was never missed."

Feline beatitude, indeed! The attainment of heaven ---here on earth? You think so? I feel certain most high-spirited cats would disagree. For them bliss was to be found in pouncing on a mouse; entertainment in toying with its captive, enjoyment was to be found in a meal that had been earned. And what of the exquisite triumph in winning in the conflict of the mating game. What to compare with the ecstasy of screeching cats clawing and wrestling in the moonlight while the spouse-to-be relished the idea of being worth fighting for!

Truffles enjoyed the limited beatitude described in the Book of Revelation, "All tears would be wiped from the eyes; no more death, and no more mourning or sadness or pain," (cf. ch. 21). Comfortable and trouble-free...the life of Truffles. Is this all self-respecting cats are meant for? And, for that matter, is that all we self-respecting human beings aspire to, all we need forus to be satisfied and contented? Sadly, I find, there are those who would gladly settle for this -the tranquillity of inertia!

Most of us want to get more out of life and to put more into life. There's something splendid in acquiring skills and in using them creatively for the benefit of others; something so rewarding in building up and sustaining deep friendships; something noble in overcoming adversity. There's something inspiring in accepting God's call to live as befits His children, and, by His grace, not making too bad a job of it.

We human beings are at our best when we strive for that fulfilment and perfection that is beyond our grasp. Achieving an awareness of God is so wonderful, even though inevitably, so inadequate. This is how it is, "Now we see only reflections in a mirror, mere riddles, but then we shall be seeing face to face. Now I can know only imperfectly; but then I shall know just as fully as I am known," (1 Cor. 13.12). This is the spice of Christian life. Here there is hope, striving, anticipation and expectation...dreams that come true as in, "I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride dressed for her husband. Then I heard a loud voice call from the throne, 'Look, here God lives among human beings. He will make His home amongst them; they will be His people, and He will be their God, God-with-them,'" (Rev. 21).

I reach God mywaygodsway, by weighing up 'Fat Cat, Truffles, of the Grade 1 Salmon' and finding it wanting -wanting in the appetite for the feline thrills it was made for, pitiful in being satisfied with far too little. I am reaching God by going for more than whatever perfection lies within the grasp of my natural capacity. I reach God by grasping for all that He has on offer..His very self. "We are already God's children, what we shall be in the future has not yet been revealed. We are well aware that when He appears we shall see Him as He really is," (1 Jn. 3.20).

Peter O.P.

"Give me a hand please!" In a fortnight Isidore will suggest how that appeal can help us to meet God.

TAKING THE LONG VIEW

I've a good friend who's doing scientific research. She's part of a team trying to find a cure for a particular form of cancer. Hour after hour, day after day, month after month, year after year she pours over a microscope. She and her colleagues study the way cancer cells react to various chemicals. Meticulously they record their findings. There are other such dedicated teams of scientists all round the world.

Hopefully, one day they will find a cure. But that may take years. My friend and her many colleagues recognize they may never see the success of their research. They may never gain any credit for all their dedicated hard work. And yet she and they press on, fortified by the hope, the conviction, that one day all their efforts will have proved worthwhile. They will have helped to save lives.

Such a researcher must be a very special kind of person. It means not expecting instant success and personal glory -though that would be marvellous if it came! Most likely my friend and her colleagues will have built on other people's efforts. Probable other people will come along later and build on their labours. For such dedicated people eventual success, rather than personal glory, is what really matters.

That means being prepared to take the long view, while realising the importance of concentrating on the here and now of focusing on particular cells. Such researchers must live in the present while living a life of hope and perseverance, despite set-backs and false trails. They must accept that they are part of a team in which rivalries and jealousies would undermine their work.

St. Paul puts this approach beautifully when he reproves the Corinthians for rival personality cults of particular preachers,

"I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth. So neither the one who plants, or the one who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth. The one who plants and the one who waters have a common purpose...For we are God's servants, working together,"

(1 Cor. 3. 5-9).

My researcher has shown me the importance of not looking for instance results. I must not even expect to see any success for all my efforts. That, indeed, is the lot of the researcher and preacher. Instead, our hope must be on things unseen. We build on other people's labours, and others will come after us to develop our work and perhaps take credit for the eventual success. None of us is likely to achieve anything of lasting value if we are loners, seeking instant success and glory.

Such acclaim ultimately depends upon God and is due to God. He gives the scientist the personal skill and temperament to develop techniques to conduct fruitful research. He's with the preacher in preparing and delivering a sermon. He touches the minds and hearts of those who hear it. He gives both of us the patience to cope with setbacks and the lack of immediate success.

For all of us, in whatever we achieve, the ultimate glory must be given to God. With the Psalmist I exclaim, "Not to us, but unto your name belongs the glory," (Ps. 115). With Paul I must be convinced that, "we are God's servants, working together" -working together with each other as a team; all of us teaming up together with God. That kind of teamwork must be essential to my meeting God.

And with my scientist friend I must be prepared for God to work in His own good time and way. If we are not to give up in frustration and despair we must be convinced that what we are doing is in itself worthwhile, even though we may never see the results of our labours. Without laboratory researchers no wonder drugs would ever be discovered to cure the patient. And without the preacher the Good News would not be heard and believed.

My researcher friend has shown me the importance of being prepared to take the long view, without becoming discouraged, even when I never seem to achieve anything worthwhile. If I'm to meet God I must learn to place all that I am and do in His hands and leave the outcome to Him. That means leaving Him the freedom to act in His own way and in His own good time. According to St. Peter God's way of measuring time, is certainly very different from ours, "With the Lord one day is like a thousand, and a thousand years are like one day!" (2 Peter3. 8). My researcher friend has taught me the importance of waiting for things as yet unseen -the greatest being meeting God Himself in His eternal kingdom. He's worth working for; He's worth waiting for!

Isidore O.P.

In a fortnight's time Fr. Peter will reflect on meeting God through

'A Fat Cat, Feline Beatitude, A Heavenly Cat'

OUT OF JURASSIC PARK

'Out of Jurassic Park' -a journey from the raw, the primitive, the simple into a very different kind of world -one which is more sophisticated, more efficient because it's more technological. And now I'm asking myself if this is progress. I've reached that cranky stage in my life when I'm pining for the good old days when I was easily satisfied with what I had. By modern standards that was not very much!

Time was when all that was needed for writing was pencils or steel nibs, bottles of ink, sheets of paper, and, lastly, blotting paper. Then came that break-through moment that was to impact every scribe and scribbler...the appearance of the Biro ball pen. At first this was taboo at school; now it's the normal tool for writing.

Those of us who still prefer the fountain pen are now frustrated because it seems nowhere sells blotting paper. So often my enquiries meet with, 'What is it?' 'Never heard of it!' How the world's moved on, and I've stayed still...still in Jurassic Park!

My introduction to a typewriter came when I had to 'fill in' for a sick priest. In his presbytery was a splendid, massive, solid object. Its proud owner boasted it was nearly thirty years old and still served him well. Mechanically there was nothing mysterious about it...simply a combination of levers and springs. I was comfortable with it. I could understand it. I could fix most of its ailments with the aid of rubber bands, bent paper clips and springs salvaged from broken toys. Finally, an occasional squirt of '3-in-1' oil. I felt in control.

Was it progress or weakness that I fell for the advantages of a word-processor? This, I persuaded myself, would greatly assist me, the dabbling journalist. With this, at the touch of a few keys, I could shift around paragraphs and re-arrange sentences. No longer would I have to erase or replace...over and over again. This level of progress was deeply satisfying for me. I looked for no more.

I long resisted all blandishments to 'go computer.' Was this out of fear of a new technology or a smug humility, that, unlike my twin, Isidore, I could manage without this expensive 'toy'?

Hurricane 'Ivan' changed all this. This mega-storm destroyed my home -the presbytery -my clothing, my books and my word-processor....my everything.

I could either return to the days of pen and paper, but, sadly, no blotting paper, or enter a world I had shunned -that of the computer. Forget about the word-processor. By that time it was pretty well obsolete. Circumstances dragged me into the laptop culture. I must concede I'm most grateful for what I can accomplish with it. Still, I'm not comfortable with it. I don't understand what is going on inside it. I can't repair it when it falters. I'm utterly dependent on it functioning properly....at all times. It's moody, capricious. It refuses to oblige. I'm furious and frustrated when texts suddenly and totally disappear from before my very eyes, without my doing a single thing to send them on their way.

Ever since I became computer-wise I've been driven to anguished prayer. Baffled, inadequate, I'm humbled that my dependence on my computer has made me increasingly and utterly dependent upon God, in a way I'd never foreseen. In His name I bless, absolve and pray for my computer.

Just to create an interlude of spiritual serenity I've considered banishing my computer, sending into exile, for the coming Lent. I feel this self-denial might purify my soul of attachment to such modern gadgetry! But Isidore, my twin -a wise old bird (which I am not) -and something of a computer nerd (also which I am not), urges me to forget such strange and quirky spirituality. He argues there would be something wrong with a spirituality which impeded my preaching work.

Indeed, I shudder at the very thought of ever having to return to pen, ink and paper. I quake at the prospect of being deprived of Google Search and so having to find appropriate reference books in libraries. I recoil from the task of scouring through them for the information I need. So much hacking and grafting has gone into the composition of this blog...It's the same for every blog that the two of us write for this series.

Dear Lord, don't let it be yourwaymyway that I should have to return to Jurassic Park!

I'm now so disenchanted with it!

Peter O.P.

In a fortnight Isidore will reflect on meeting God by 'Taking the Long View.'

MAKING AN OMELETTE

I've never claimed to be much of a cook, especially in comparison with some of the superb chefs in my community. But I do have a go with some simple dishes for myself. With the shortage of vocations I couldn't risk cooking for my community and poisoning the lot of them! Nor would they be prepared to take that chance.

Occasionally I cook a simple omelette for myself. Though I was pleased enough, I didn't consider one of my efforts a work of genius. Once cooked, I started to ease it from the frying pan onto a plate. So far so good. But then I was completely thrown off balance. One of the Cordon Bleu chefs in our community happened to pass by and see my omelette. To my amazement he congratulated me! I wasn't used to such praise for my culinary excursions -especially from him.

Such unexpected acclaim from such a discerning cook caught me completely off guard. In my confusion I grabbed a bottle of washing up liquid and squirted it into the frying pan. Unfortunately I hadn't yet removed the omelette!

What to do? I certainly wasn't going to throw away such a highly praised and, therefore, prized dish. Anyway you have probably heard of my great reluctance to throw away anything. I will go to great lengths to salvage what others would throw away -even a soapy omelette. But not me! So I did the most obvious thing -stuck the omelette under the tap to remove the washing up liquid. Then I re-heated my 'dish of the day' and, surprisingly enjoyed a tasty meal True, it did have an unusual, distinctive flavour. But none the worse for that -nor was I. And I didn't foam at the mouth or blow bubbles!

Of course my community thought I was completely mad. Possibly they had a point. But I would argue that great discoveries have been made -even in the kitchen -by accidentally throwing together unlikely ingredients. That's my defense and I'm sticking to it -with the warning not to try combining washing up liquid with omelettes or any other food. Your digestive system may not be as tough as mine.

How on earth can I find a way of meeting God in the crazy way I reacted to unexpected praise? As I see it, my problem lies in the way I coped with praise. If I'd been sensible -which I wasn't -I would have expressed my gratitude for a bit of friendly encouragement. Hopefully that would lead me to be even more ambitious with my cooking. That could even have given me the confidence to offer to cook for the whole community. Whether or not they would have accepted is another matter. If I'd welcomed praise graciously I might have blossomed as a chef. There's no knowing what heights I might have attained!

My eldest brother has the best approach to commenting on my efforts -not in cooking, but in water colour painting. He's a highly gifted artist, while I'm very much an also-ran. When we went out painting he would look at my mediocre efforts -that's the truth, not false humility. He would then ask me if I wanted to know what he really thought. Hesitantly I would say, "Yeeers." First he would find something good to say about my picture. Then he would show me how it could be improved. Hopefully I've listened to his advice. Encouragement, then suggested improvements. That's what I needed. And that's what he gave me. The same is true when Peter and I work together on our blog postings.

Giving and receiving praise is difficult. Empty flattery is insincere and useless. That would never spur me on to improve. I need the teacher's classic report comment, "could do better" -and be shown how. But totally devastating criticism can be worse than useless. It can dampen down, if not extinguish, the flame of enthusiasm, the self confidence to try again.

The virtue of humility doesn't mean refusing to accept praise and denying that we've done something well -when we've produced a little gem of modest worth. It would have been a lie to have insisted that I had cooked a bad omelette. And to do so would have been ungracious to the person who had been kind enough to praise my efforts. That would have meant denying the truth and making a virtue out of lying. That can't be right! And it wouldn't have been conceited for me to have drawn quiet satisfaction from doing something well -like cooking a tasty omelette. That again is a matter of truth.

Perhaps the best and most honest way for me to handle praise is for me to thank God for making whatever I achieve possible -even cooking a decent omelette. So my way of meeting God is for me to recognize any success I may have, while echoing the words of the Psalmist,

"Not to us, O Lord, but to your name give glory," (Ps. 115. 1).

At the same time I must heed His instructions. With His help I certainly could do better.

Isidore O.P.

In a fortnight Peter's 'Meeting God' reflection will be entitled, 'Out of Jurassic Park'

A FAMILY TABLEAU

There is no choice. There is no other way. At this season of the year the only way I can reach God is through the birth of His Son, Jesus.

Whenever I've been writing for this blog at the back of my mind have been the opening words of the Letter to the Hebrews,

"At many moments in the past and by various means, God spoke to our ancestors through the prophets,"

(Hebrews 1. 1)

Over the past years I have come to recognise many and varied prophetic moments when God has been speaking to me -many of them fanciful and bizarre. These have been moments of grace, full of insight. I have attempted to respond to what God has been saying to me.

The Letter to the Hebrews continues,

"In our time, the final days, he spoke to us in the person of His Son."

I have celebrated many a memorable Christmas when I've felt close to God -those of my childhood, those in large communities during the years of my Dominican formation as a priest, those as pastor of several parishes. Each in different ways has quickened and inspired my spirit. I cherish them all. On a few occasions there has been a Christmas of sad bewilderment when I've mourned the death of a member of my family. Such a variety of ways in which God has been speaking to me at Christmas. It has been up to me to discern how He expects me to reach Him this year.

What, then, stands out for me as something that I would want to share with you?

I think of the time I was making the rounds of the General Hospital in Grenada during the Christmas season. The lights in the maternity ward were subdued. There, in a corner, sat a father and mother silently gazing at their newly born son, lying in a hospital crib. It was a spectacle of love, awe and thanksgiving. I approached with diffidence, not wanting to disturb the magic of the moment. Behold, this family tableau was one of the most moving experience of my life.

Here I saw the beauty of Bethlehem -Joseph and Mary speechless as they looked down upon Jesus, lying in the manger. How great must have been their love, wonder, thanksgiving. Jesus was, literally, an adorable child.

And then I made my presence known to the father and mother -dear friends of mine. My arms encircling them in a loving embrace. Words of congratulation mingled with joyful laughter. And then I gently kissed the brow of their baby boy. Even now, as I write this posting, I tremble with emotion.

My thoughts return to Bethlehem. How would I have responded if I had been there on that Holy Night? Just as I did in the maternity ward, with hugs and kisses, laughter and congratulations. And of course I would have kissed the brow of the baby Jesus.

What a wonderful way to reach God...My way -letting my impulses to love gush forth upon the Tableau of my friends' family -holy in its own right -and, in so doing, reach out to the Tableau of the Holy Family -there in my heart, though not physically, present to me.

Peter O.P.

Peter and Isidore wish our readers Every Blessing

for

Christmastide and the New Year

In a fortnight's time Isidore will reflect on meeting God as he made an omelette.