WHAT GOES ROUND COMES ROUND

 

The children were having a great time on the Merry-Go- Round, or Carousel.   Round and round they went, seated on motor bikes  mounted on vividly painted horses with enormous bright eyes,  seated behind the steering wheels of flashy cars, chugging along in railway trains.

Alas, all good things come to an end! Soon their ride came to a halt.    Laughing, and chattering, parents and children  made their way home.

‘What goes round comes round.’ I thought to myself, and then,   ‘But what if these children were to go round and round and round and round, on and on and on and on?  They’d eventually become bored at the sheer monotony of it.   What if this continued - in spite of their boredom,      then their anger, and eventually their fear,  as they realized they were trapped in an experience that had lost its merriment?    What had been great fun would then take on the drudgery,                       the sameness, the awful routine of a treadmill.’

Recently   the theme of my meditations, my prayer life has been,   ‘What goes round comes round.’     You see, as a somewhat retired priest I’ve ended up where I started  - young and inexperienced.    It’s like this. In 1959 I received my first posting as parish priest.      Now in 2013 I find myself assistant priest in the very same parish.        I’ve gone round from one place and come back to the same place.

During these fifty or so years of journeying back to where I started   so many interesting things have happened to me,  such a variety of activities!          Flavoured with joy and sorrow, hope and anguish, success and failure,  self-congratulation as well as self-accusation.

As a backdrop to all of this there has been the constant routine   that has structured my life and shaped my personality…a regularity, a predictability,  within which there has been so much variety,  encountering so many different people, involvement in experiences and  projects,              some weird and wonderful, most  common-place, dull, forgettable.

For me, a priest,  to have celebrated but one Mass in the whole of my life,  to have preached but one sermon,  would have been  momentous, a privilege beyond .        Without boasting I can claim that to have celebrated Mass thousands of times,   and to have preached thousands of sermons.        Don’t imagine for a moment that on every occasion I’ve felt on top of the world         – in a state of sublime ecstasy.         I’d have been  totally exhausted if I’d been through  extreme and intense joy of any kind, emotional or spiritual, for a long time. So I admit, without surprise and without shame,  that over the years there have been times, even seasons, when I felt a dreary weariness at the thought of having  to celebrate yet another public Mass and to preach yet another sermon.

    Similar to my experience as a priest must surely be that of the couple  who have  been happily married for many a year.      They couldn't possibly have survived an  endless honeymoon                   of gazing into each other’s eyes,  embracing, making love with their spouse,                                      day after day, year after year.        They’d have tasted the bitter as well as the sweet,   the worst as well as the better.        Happily, the verdict will be,       ‘What  an immense blessing, a great privilege…but it hasn’t been easy!’

Much of this also applies to lasting the commitments of friendships and to life-long careers that, for the most part are worthwhile, gratifying and fulfilling.      These will have been punctuated with  irritations and frustrations,   or simply feeling fed-up and bored.       With the passing of time what, who, is most delightful to us  can on occasion have lost most of what used to charm us.

I suspect  that these days we find it hard to be fascinated by anything or by anyone for long.  It’s not that anything too bad has to have occurred.      It’s rather that we see that the ‘shelf-life’ of commitments is meant to be short.     Replacement is the order of the day.       When we become disappointed or dissatisfied,  rather than take the trouble to rekindle the fire that has all but gone out,  we tend to look to be fired up by something, someone that is fresh, to stimulate us.

If this occasionally happens to us let us admit it! Let us not feel ashamed!        These ‘off-moments’ are a necessary part of life’s journey, yours and mine.        From these we are to learn that long-term enthusiasm must not be taken for granted.     It does not remain simply because we would like it to.       We must deliberately, explicitly, cherish what we value,   take care of it, refresh it, and even repair it,   so as to recapture our sense of wonder that leads to thanksgiving!

WHAT GOES ROUND COMES ROUND .     Sometimes, somehow, we have to get round to making ourwaygodsway.      And God’s way is that His love endures forever.

 

Peter O.P.

The next posting will be on 20th September

 

 

 

BLACK BEAUTY

What a black-eye!  How on earth did Brother Oculus get such a shiner?  After all, he was a very peaceable person –not the type to provoke a violent argument.  And we Dominicans tend not to settle our differences with fisticuffs.  Heated arguments are about as far as we go.  Had our brother been attacked by an intruder while we were all asleep?
 

Such were the questions which distracted our community’s early morning prayers.  Not surprisingly, we were all bewildered. We could hardly wait to ask Br. Oculus to satisfy our curiosity.  What, had hit him?  Did his puffed, closed eye hurt? A stupid question, since it must have been very painful. Various remedies were suggested, including the application of a piece of raw steak.  Not very practical, since we didn’t have any. I must confess I couldn’t help being fascinated by the beautiful yellow, blue and green of his bruise. As for his ruddy nose, that looked as if something had hit it very hard.
 

Far from giving us a dramatic account of a heroic encounter, Br. Oculus looked rather sheepish and embarrassed by our solicitous questioning. But he had no choice. So, reluctantly, he began to explain his battle wounds. And what a tale he had to tell –one which no fevered imagination could have invented! Eagerly we awaited his explanation. What on earth could have happened to such a gentle, devout brother?  Who could have treated him so brutally?
 

Hesitantly, nervously he explained what had happened.   In his zeal to be an exemplary poor friar he had decided to dispense with electric lights whenever possible.  To achieve this end he’d carefully paced the length of the corridor to the point where the corridor itself took a right-angle turn. And so should he have done! Folly of follies! This was a thrifty brother who wanted to save electricity, especially in a post war time of austerity. Probably unfairly, and in self-justification, we suspected him of feeling superior to his wasteful brethren! But until that night his measured approach to moving around the priory in the dark had worked without mishap.
 

But for some unknown reason on that fateful night Br. Oculus had quickened his pace.  As he increased his speed he lengthened his stride.  That, of course, threw out his calculations.  As our unfortunate brother charged down the corridor he crashed into the solid end-wall, his speed adding to the violence of the impact of soft flesh on a hard brick wall. Speeding motorists can also misjudge distances and end up crashing into something!  No wonder his protesting eye took on such an angry colour!
 

We, his fellow students, were faced with another problem. How should we react to the sorrowful plight of our battered brother?  Obviously with concern and compassion at the injured face and damaged reputation of someone who had made such a mess out of meaning so well.  Sadly, our reactions were more robust and less noble. Our initial, instinctive, sympathy for our wounded, heroic brother collapsed into fits of laughter.
 

I must admit that later I reflected, with shame, that there was a certain smugness in our mirth at the deflation of our austere brother.  Not that he intended to show us up by this peculiar, hidden expression of poverty, which we only discovered through his unfortunate accident.  Perhaps we resented his asceticism as a judgment upon our not showing his kind of austerity.  Maybe we were only too eager to see his mishap as vindicating our use of electric lights.   I don’t know.
 

Certainly, in many a community there are those who studiously go round putting out lights, while others instinctively switch them on.   Each will justify his behaviour, either on the grounds of economy or safety.  Each will give a religious spin to his arguments.  The same is true of those who open windows and those who shut them!
 

What does God, what should I, make of all this?  I suspect the Lord is amused at our petty antics.  Are we all taking ourselves too seriously and allowing things to get out of proportion?   Perhaps those who prefer to walk in darkness should learn to ‘take it light.’   Are we making much ado about nothing?
 

Perhaps we should heed the West Indian saying, ‘Cool it man,’ and be more relaxed with ourselves and each other–especially when there's a heat wave.   I’m sure it would help all of us to meet God if we could learn to see how petty and ridiculous we can be. Especially in community life we need to be able to laugh at ourselves and with each other –even when that results in a black eye. Thank God there’s a certain craziness in Dominican life –otherwise we would all go mad!

 

• Isidore Clarke O.P.  

IT'S GOOD TO BE HERE !

“It’s good to be here!”   That how we feel when we’re enjoying a holiday.  We’re glad to get away from our daily routine. We welcome the break.  The company’s good; so too the scenery, the accommodation and the food.  We enjoy relaxing on a beach, sight-seeing or shinning up a mountain.  At least for a while, we are at ease with ourselves and content with the world. For a time we can put aside our daily cares and relax.

 

That’s how Peter, James and John felt on the Mount of the Transfiguration.   True, this was no holiday break. It was something much, much better.  There, on the Mount, Jesus revealed something of His divine glory. As they relaxed with Him they experienced something of the heavenly joy to which God has called us –the sublime happiness of resting in the Lord.

 

No wonder Peter exclaimed, “Lord, it is good to be here!”  No wonder he wanted to prolong the wonderful experience of the Transfiguration.  We are so like him when we want a holiday never to end, or never to be separated from someone dear to us.  That’s how I feel when my twin brother has to return to the W. Indies, after an all-too brief holiday together.

 

During these musings on the feast of the Transfiguration my mind leapt off at a tangent.   It often does!  What, I wondered, about the times and situations, which are far from idyllic?   Given the choice, we would much prefer to be elsewhere, doing something else.    Instinctively we think, “It’s not good to be here; I wish I were somewhere else, doing something different.”  We’ve all felt like that!

 

I’ve found that if I allow that kind of resentment to persist I will always be miserable.   Far better to come to terms with what can’t be changed and try to make the best of it.   That can even be true when things go wrong, say, if we become ill, or our bosses move us from a job we enjoy to doing to something else, in another place we may not like.  That hurts, and it would be dishonest to deny the pain.  But that happens to all of us.  It’s certainly part of our Dominican vocation to be moved from house to house or country to country, job to job.

 

When things go wrong, have you had some well-intentioned person try to comfort you with the words, “It must be God’s will.”   I have, when I’ve been very ill -and it’s made me furious!   I can’t believe that a loving God could be vindictive and delight in my pain. But I can and do believe that He wants me to turn what in itself is so negative and destructive into something positive and creative.   That was certainly true of Christ’s crucifixion, through which He saved us from the power of sin and death.

 

Only in this sense can I agree that my suffering and pain must be God’s will.   He wants to help me to turn that into an opportunity for growing closer to Him. Almost certainly, only the wisdom of hindsight will enable me to say that it was good for me to be in that chaotic, painful situation.  In the meantime, part of my suffering lies in having to live in a fog of confusion and misunderstanding.  That in itself can be good for me –if it forces me to place my trust in God’s loving care for me, when I can’t understand what’s happening to me.

Hopefully I will have the docility to say, “Thy will be done” –and mean it.  Hopefully, with God’s help, even the most uncomfortable situation can become an opportunity for me to grow closer to God. I must trust that that is where He wants me to serve Him, and that He judges that is best for my eternal salvation. If so, it’s good for me to be there, in that situation –even, or perhaps especially, when I’d rather be somewhere else, doing something different. 

St. Paul reassures us, “We know that all things work together for good^* for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose,” (Rom 8. 28).  God can give us the serenity to identify with the imprisoned Paul, who could write, “I know what it is to have little, and I know what it is to have plenty. In any and all circumstances I have learned the secret of being well-fed and of going hungry, of having plenty and of being in need.  I can do all things through him who strengthens me”  (Philippians 4. 11-13).   Such trust in God can give us the confidence to say, “Lord, it is good to be here” –in whatever situation we find ourselves!

Isidore O.P.     

The next posting will be on 23rd August.

FAMILY PRIDE

 

The male lion - what a magnificent, noble beast!  The ‘King of the Jungle’ -his roar strikes terror into his prey.  What a powerful image of Israel’s fear of its enemies, ‘Their roaring is like a lion, like young lions they roar; they growl and seize their prey, they carry it off, and no one can rescue it,’ (Is. 5. 29). No wonder Amos exclaims, ‘The lion has roared; who will not fear?’ (Amos 3. 8).    Its paws can tear its prey apart; its powerful jaws can readily crush and devour anything it fancies to eat.  Clearly, a lion should be approached with great caution!  Mess about with lions at your peril. The same is true of the devil, as St. Peter warns us, “Discipline yourselves; keep alert.  Like a roaring lion your adversary the devil prowls around, looking for someone to devour,” (1 Peter 5. 8).

 But I have had to modify this terrifying image of the fearsome lion. While searching the internet, I stumbled across a beautiful picture of a male lion with its cub.  I was immediately struck by the tender bond between fearsome father and  vulnerable child.  The normally unapproachable, intimidating male lion could so easily have made a meal of its tiny, defenceless cub. And yet he welcomed it with gentle tenderness. The head of the pride of lions seems to smile with such pride!
 

 As for the tiny cub, I’m amazed at its trust.  It dared to approach the handsome, powerful male lion, to rest its nose tenderly against that of the Lord of the Jungle. That’s something I’d never dare do –even though I’m much bigger than the cub.  And the simple reason for its confidence –the cub dared to recognize him as his ‘father.’  And the father acknowledged the cub as his child.

 

 What a wonderful image of our relationship with God!  The King of the Jungle powerfully expresses the unapproachable, awesome majesty of the Lord of Heaven and Earth. We must never lose sight of that. And yet we dare to draw close to Him, without fear of being destroyed. And the simple reason for our confidence? Almighty God has shared His life with us.   He recognizes and welcomes us as His children.  That gives us the trust to approach the awesome God of Majesty –not the King of the Jungle, but Lord of Heaven and Earth. Because He acknowledges us as His children we dare to call Him ‘Father.’  That gives us the confidence, the trust, the love to presume to approach Almighty God without fear of being destroyed.

The picture of the relationship between the lion and his cub has given me a beautiful insight into a new way of meeting God.  This combines respect for His awesome majestic power, while daring to approach God, who is full of tenderness and love.  The reason for this confidence?  -the bond of love between our heavenly Father, and us, His children.

Isidore O.P

P.S. I would like to thank the photographer -unknown to me -who took the magnificent picture which inspired this posting.  Please send me your name, so that I can publically express my gratitude.

A WOOING HE WOULD GO

 

They don’t make them like that anymore –strict, no-nonsense priests who ‘tell it as it is.’ The one I have in mind would each month remind his country village congregation of eight different ways they could get themselves excommunicated from the Church. (I suspect that few of the present generation have a clue what excommunication is all about!)

No surprise, then, that this gruff cleric would advise priests of recent vintage that there’s no need to tell people about love. ‘They’ve had enough of that already. Tell them about the Last  Judgment!’

All the same, as a host he was a most considerate man. There was a time when the bishop visited his parish. After lavishly dining the Most Reverend Gentleman this pastor suggested it might well be time for him to sleep off his meal. Now, who told the parish cockerel to start crowing at that very moment?!!?

The poor bird did not live long to bewail its folly. “Off with its head,” bellowed our priest to his house-keeper, with all the authority of an eastern potentate.  Problem solved. The bishop slept soundlessly.

You might well conclude there's small chance of a priest’s life becoming boring. Let me tell you about the desperate  love-stricken young man who sent distress signals to this priest I’ve just been describing to you. 'Father, come to my rescue. . I'm going crazy. I'm in despair!'

This was an excellent fellow - handsome, talented, jovial, popular, the heart and soul of any gathering.  He could stand tall in any company, confident in the knowledge that the ladies were leaping fences to grab hold of him. Also he had a flashy car – I vital requirement of ‘him who would a wooing go!'

Already he had made his choice. The time had come when he longed to claim this adorable girl of his dreams as his own, not simply as a ‘steady date’ but as a partner for life.  In many ways, for many days, she had been signaling that she was well-satisfied with him.

And yet, such is ‘the mystery of love,' at the very moment he was about to lay bear his heart to her and plead his cause he’d lost his nerve, lost his voice. His whole being had collapsed into something resembling a wobbling jelly.

Who better, then, to be his advocate than the one man who had never been known to be at a loss for words; the one man who did not know what it was to be timid or shy; who better than this same most intimidating of priests? In the crazy world of sweet romance it was easier for him to ask, beg, this holy terror,  to speak to his lady-love on his behalf than for him to approach her himself.

Wouldn’t most of us think he was out of his mind to ask this rough-spoken priest to do for him the serenading and the wooing? My mind boggles at the thought of what words this crusty priest would have found, what cooing sounds he would have made, to persuade this ‘Princess’ that this young man was just the one for her?

What would his lady-love think of him for being too timid to speak for himself? Wouldn’t she despise him for this? Did he really expect the good Lord to work a miracle that would cause honeyed words to flow from this hard-as-rock ‘reverend?’  And yet, with God all things are possible.  Hadn’t He made honey  flow from the rock for the sake of His people in the desert?

I’m guessing our priest welcomed this outrageous challenge. Anyway, having groomed himself as befitted the occasion he went down on his knees and raised his hands to the heavens. He charmed  this bewildered girl into joyful submission as sweet words flowed from his most-times sour mouth.

And wasn’t she relieved! She had been agonizing about how much longer she would have to wait before her boy-friend ‘popped the question.’ Would she have to propose to him? At that moment she so much admired  her young man's resourcefulness in seeking the assistance of someone who had a ‘gift for words.’

With ecstatic joy she encircled  this proxy-suitor within her arms and placed a juicy kiss upon his cheek. A passer-by might have concluded that, wonder of wonders, this most off-putting of priests had somehow gained himself a wife!

Coward that I am, I’m leaving it to you to tease some spirituality out of this grand saga. I ask myself, ‘What does this say to my approaching the Lord of Lords in prayer? How do I stand in comparison to the ‘wooing ways’ of this priest?’

I dare not think what would have been the outcome if I’d had to assume  the priestly role in this drama?  Mywaygodsway?...No way!!! Please God!!!

Peter Clarke, O.P.

BONING MY KIPPER

“I was too busy boning my kipper to notice what he said!”   That was the imaginative reply, given by one of my fellow Dominican students.  The prior had just asked him to comment on the sermon I’d preached.

Once a year each of us we students had to preach a sermon during the community’s supper.  That was an excruciating experience for us trainee preachers.  We had to compete with the clatter of cutlery and crockery, the squeaks and rattles from the food trolley.  Worse still, we had to imagine that we were preaching to the typical ‘person in the pew,’ not to our Dominican brethren.

Our fellow students went through a different kind of ordeal. They had to listen to the preacher, knowing full well that the prior would randomly select one of them to comment on the sermon.  While eating his supper –perhaps boning his kipper - he had to be thinking of something intelligent to say.  After his comments the prior would then ask one of the priests in the community what he thought of the sermon.  Finally the prior himself would have his say. Three critics had a peck at the poor student preacher!

These refectory sermons were an ordeal for all of us.  The preacher would never expect to have to face such a critical congregation again, which was there to criticise rather than to be inspired.  Never would we have to preach to an imaginary audience.  Hopefully, being thrown in at the deep-end so early in our Dominican life would toughen us up for what would lie ahead.  This training exercise was probably good for us.

Sometimes the lessons we learnt were very painful.  There was the student preacher who memorized his sermon, word for word.  Unfortunately when he opened his mouth his mind went blank, paralysed with fear.  All he could do was silently withdraw, followed by the sympathy of just about everybody!  That must have been a miserable for him!  That taught me never to trust my sermons to memory.  I must always think on my feet and at least have some notes to jog my memory, in case it should ever go blank.

 

As for the community which had to listen to our first sermons –that was quite an ordeal.  I’ve been both preacher and critic, so I know. The meal was spoilt by our not knowing whether we would be asked to comment.  Since each of us had to take his turn in giving a refectory sermon our sympathies lay with the preacher of the moment. We tended to give him encouragement.  But I do suspect that some critics were far too harsh and permanently scarred some budding preachers. I know one who would never dare to preach in front of his brethren, even though the congregation liked his sermons.  I feel sure his critic would have been horrified to learn of the devastating effects his comments had had.

 The ordeal of having to preach my practice sermons against the background noise of a community of forty eating their supper has stood me in good stead.  As a result I’ve not been fazed by a baby crying, nor, in the W. Indies, by a braying donkey, a squealing, grunting pig, a bleating goat or a crowing cock.  But I must admit I had to concede defeat when a tropical rainstorm beat down upon the tin roof of the chapel in which I was preaching. The noise was deafening! I certainly could not compete with that. I was forced to bring my sermon to an abrupt end.  The same was true when a pneumatic drill got to work outside the church.  Perhaps, the Lord, is in His wisdom, had decided to silence me.

This helped to make me realize that I must place my preaching in God’s hands.   I may have to accept that He may want lessons to be drawn from my sermon, which I had not planned.

That can be hard to take.  The poor preacher who couldn’t remember the sermon he’d carefully prepared had to accept the humiliation of having to retire without having uttered a word.   From this his listeners had to learn compassionate understanding.  That could do them more good, and be more necessary, than the message the preacher had planned to give.

And the preacher may become ill and collapse during a sermon.  That’s happened to me.   Although everyone was so good in rushing to my assistance I hated all the fuss.  But perhaps God wanted both the congregation and me to appreciate and respond in a positive way to the vulnerability of us preachers.  For all of us that lesson could have been more valuable than anything I’d planned to say.

Certainly it’s good that I never take my preaching for granted.  Because I’m prone to blackouts I can never presume that I will be able to finish a sermon.  But more general than that, preaching can be a frightening experience.

 There’s a vast difference between giving a lecture and preaching a sermon.   In a sermon the preacher urges a way of life, Christ’s way of life. If he’s honest he will have to admit that he falls short of the behaviour he’s urging upon others.  As he puts himself on the line he lays himself open to the condemnation of not practising what he preaches.  None of this is true of giving a lecture, in which the speaker does not lay his life open to judgement and condemnation.

This sense of inconsistency, if not hypocrisy, a sense of unworthiness can be terrifying, even paralyzing. I’ve known preachers who have had sleepless nights, with upset stomachs, before preaching a difficult sermon.  Another used to be physically sick in the sacristy before his sermons. But I’ve found that in spite of my stage-fright the nerves disappear once I start my sermon. People simply don’t believe me when I say I’m nervous before every sermon.  A bit of anxiety keeps me on my toes and prevents me become complacent or casual in preaching.

My way of coping with my sense of inadequacy is to remind myself that God chose the foolish of this world to confound the self-styled wise. I readily number myself among the foolish!  In fact the people Jesus chose to preach the kingdom were all flawed characters.  If the preacher  needed to wait till  he was a perfect Christian before he dared to open his mouth the Gospel would never be heard.

It’s good for all of us to recognize that we’re not fit to preach the Good News.  Not one of us practises what he preaches.  The only way I can continue is to remind myself that I’m not holding up myself as an example of Christian living.  I’m recommending Christ, His way of life, not mine.  The world needs to hear about Jesus and how to follow Him to the Kingdom of Heaven.  I need to hear the Good News as much as anybody else.

So in every sermon I’m first of all preaching to myself –telling myself how I should be following Christ.  With every sermon I hold a mirror up to my life and see how I distort the image of Christ, which I should reflect.  Hopefully I listen to what I’ve said to the congregation and heed my own words.

So, I meet God through heeding my own sermons, and trying to practice what I preach.  I place the fears, the difficulties, my limitations and failures in God’s hands.  He can turn everything to His purpose and draw goodness from it.  But most importantly, we all meet God through His word, sharing it and doing it.

I bet every teacher and parent feels the same sense of inadequacy as I do in sharing my faith. If so, let’s all remember that God has given us this task.  He is with us as we do His work.  He is Lord of the harvest and has guaranteed a bumper crop, despite all the obstacles that make it difficult for us to hear the Word of God.  That certainly includes the concentration required for boning  a kipper!

 

Isidore O.P.

CALL MY BLUFF

“You wouldn’t dare!” That was my rash challenge as we rounded off an exhilarating week with singing round a camp-fire.   A group of teenagers had come to Spode Conference Centre for a week’s discussions.  These were meant to prepare them for what would lie ahead for them as Christians, after they’d left school and entered the adult world.

As a safety precaution we had a number of buckets of water at the ready.  I was tending the fire when a teasing, pushy, girl threatened to throw a bucket of water over me. I, secure in my priestly status, brashly I replied, “You wouldn’t dare!” Fool that I was! No way did I expect her to rise to such a challenge. Little did I realize I'd just put her reputation in the eyes of her peers on the line.  She had no choice. Here, the chance for unspeakable glory! ... to douse a priest, at his invitation...so to speak!   The next thing I knew I was drenched.

At that moment the world stood still. We were all in a state of amazed shock. What if she had seized the initiative and dared me to retaliate and douse her with a bucket of water? She would have had me cornered. I could not possibly have taken her up. The consequences would have been unthinkable. At that moment I was on trial with the whole circle of young people being my jury and judge.

 God came to my rescue. From my throat He forced a massive roar of indignation and then a fit of hysterical laughter. All joined in, much relieved...and most grateful for this surprise piece of entertainment.

But it certainly provided me with food for thought.... about the danger of issuing challenges and calling people’s bluff.. “Never must I do that again -unless I’m prepared to be taken up on my challenge.” And what of Annie (not her real name)?   What did she learn?  That actions do have consequences?  That there’s no telling with priests...at least with this one?

Now, this got me wondering. Does God call our bluff?    Can we call His bluff and put Him to the test?  How often have we complained, “If God really loved me He wouldn’t let me suffer; He would cure me and my loved ones. After all, we’re good people, who keep His commandments and do more than that for Him. Surely   He owes something to His loyal subjects!" Right?  No.  No. No. Wrong.   Yet how many have abandoned God, because they think He’s deaf to their prayers and that He has deserted them?”

If that’s the way we’re thinking aren’t we testing God’s love for us in the same way that Satan tempted Jesus in the desert?  There the devil challenged Jesus to throw Himself from the pinnacle of the temple.  Was He going to trust His heavenly Father to save Him from falling to His death? To this challenge Jesus replied, ‘It is written, “Do not put the Lord your God to the test.” ’ (Matt. 4. 7).

We cannot, we, must not, put God and His love to the test.  God doesn’t have to prove Himself; He owes us nothing; we can’t put Him in our debt.   All that He does for us is a free gift of His love, not something we deserve.  That’s why Jesus condemned the Pharisee who reminded God of all his good deeds and expected to be duly rewarded for them.  But Jesus praised the publican who threw himself on God’s mercy as He begged His forgiveness.

What about this for a way we often put God to the test?  We reason, “Since  God is all merciful He wouldn’t condemn and punish anyone, especially not a nice guy like me.” Or, “If I’m a sinner, God will always give me time to repent, so why rush to cut short the enjoyment of my sinful ways?” 

  The Book of Ecclesiasticus brings us to our senses with a bucket of cold water, “ Do not say, ‘I sinned, yet what has happened to me?’ - for the Lord is slow to anger.   Do not be so confident of forgiveness that you add sin to sin.    Do not say, ‘His mercy is great,  He will forgive the multitude of my sins’, for both mercy and wrath are with Him, and His anger will rest on sinners.  Do not delay to turn back to the Lord, and do not postpone it from day to day;  for suddenly the wrath of the Lord will come upon you,  and at the time of punishment you will perish.”  (Ecclesiasticus 5. 4-7).   In other words, it’s sheer madness to presume to call God’s bluff.

But isn’t  it a huge temptation to try to bargain with God, arguing that if I do this for God He’s obliged to do that for me? He owes me one. I have serious problems with those people who circulate emails that guarantee instant prosperity or certain salvation if we jump through a number of spiritual hoops.  Often these include a handsome donation to the pastor!  To this the Book of Ecclesiasticus replies in no uncertain terms, “Do not try to bribe the Lord.  He will not accept it.”  (35. 14).

 What about God challenging us, even calling our bluff?  He does that all the time!   -as when Jesus says to each of us, “Follow me.”    Instead of promising us an easy ride He guarantees a rough journey.  He tells us to take up our crosses and follow Him.   We, His followers, must expect opposition, even persecution.   Jesus is challenging us to believe in Him, to trust He knows where He’s going, that the eternal life and happiness He promises are not empty words.   To each of us He says, “Launch out into the deep.”  He invites us to do the seemingly impossible, to walk on the water.  Jesus is calling our bluff, as He says, “Trust me.”   We are calling His bluff, as we expect Him to be faithful to His promises.   We meet God as our “yes” to Him echoes His “yes” to us.

Dare I conclude that Annie with her bucket of water has even prompted me to think of my being baptized with the waters of life? Then God most certainly expressed His “yes” to me as His son. How I rejoice in my lifelong commitment to Him as my heavenly Father!

All, the same I warn you  girls, “Don’t take liberties with me and buckets of water! I’ve aged a lot since the days of Annie and camp fires!”

Isidore O.P.

The next posting will be on 21st June