How to Awaken the Sleeping Jesus: A Meditation on Prayer (Mark 4:35-41)

(“… A violent squall came up and waves were breaking over the boat, so that it was already filling up. Jesus was in the stern, asleep on a cushion. They woke him and and said to him, ‘Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?”…  Mark 4:35 -41).

***

We’ve all been terrified like the disciples.
And sometimes when we cry out to Jesus,
it seems like he’s asleep on a cushion…
But our cry always awakens him.

We might consider Christ’s response
to our prayers in one of three ways.
Think of it like a stoplight:
green, yellow, and red.

Sometimes when we ask Jesus for help,
he comes right away,
much like the disciples’ request.
“Calm the storm, Lord!”
And he does. Peace is immediate.

Other times, Christ’s response takes time.
The answer comes –
seemingly at the last minute – but it comes.
We might say the light was yellow.
These times are meant
to strengthen our faith;
looking back, God provided,
just not as quickly as we wanted.

But did we trust him while we waited?

Sometimes we pray
and it seems like we get no answer;
the light is red.
But instead of believing that Jesus simply says “no,” what if red means,
“I have something better planned for you?
Will you trust me
and open your heart to another path?”

Jesus always answers our prayers.
Sometimes the light is green –
the answer is an immediate “yes.”
Other times, the light is yellow –
Jesus will answer us,
but first he takes the opportunity
to strengthen our faith and trust in him.

And other times the light is red –
he wants to direct us on a different path;
what we prayed for simply wasn’t what’s best for us.

Either way, we must always trust
that prayer awakens Jesus from his slumber;
he will never ignore our cry for help. 
But will we accept the way
he chooses to answer?

Take Up Your Cross…But First, Change Your Attitude (Luke 9.22-25)

(Jesus said to his disciples: “The Son of Man must suffer greatly and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes,
and be killed and on the third day be raised.”

Then he said to all, “If anyone wishes to come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it. What profit is there for one to gain the whole world yet lose or forfeit himself?” Luke 9: 22-25)

A daily homily given on Thursday, February 15, 2018:

Today’s Gospel reminds me of an elderly woman I once knew. An accident earlier in her life confined her to a wheelchair. I always felt so bad for her, that she had limited mobility – she couldn’t do even basic life tasks on her own.

But one day she said to me, “You know, many people look at me with pity; they see a wheelchair as a burden… But I see it as a blessing.

It helps me do everything – get around, see people, and be myself. Without my wheelchair, my life would be so dull.

***

Her positive attitude didn’t remove her paralysis, but it did free her from the heaviness of feeling bitter or sorry for herself. Self-pity simply gets us nowhere.

Think about Jesus as he carried his own cross. It was incredibly heavy, but he knew that it would lead to his resurrection. Having the right attitude was essential, even for the Son of God.

Where is the Spirit prompting me to change my attitude or perspective on life?

***

For all of us, the right mindset can make any cross easier to carry.

Ash Wednesday and the Winter Olympics: Choosing a Path to Glory (Matthew 6: 1-18)

Given on Ash Wednesday, 2018:

Last Friday, people around the globe tuned in as the 2018 Winter Olympics began. Some of the greatest athletes the world has ever known walked across the Olympic stage to the tune of their national anthems as they carried their flags with pride.

For years, they’ve all dreamed of glory. And for a select few, they shall find it. Those countless hours of training, highly specialized diets, and nights without sleep will be for something: a golden medal fastened around their neck with ribbon.

These athletes remind us that competition is written into the human spirit. We all desire glory, but these are the ones who’ve trained for it.

Yet in a few weeks, these games will conclude and all will return home. The world will move on, as few will remember these athletes’ records, their successes, or their failures. Few will remember their names.

These athletes and the records they hold will fade into the annals of history.

***

And herein lies the wisdom of Ash Wednesday.

That ugly black smudge of ash smeared onto our foreheads reminds us that time is passing, that history will swallow all of us up, that death – my death – is coming, and I know neither the day nor the hour.

And not only me; everything and everyone around me is returning to dust:

… the trees that line this campus…this chapel we are praying in…the people I have loved… these clothes I’m wearing…my books…my favorite coffee mug… these hands that wrote this homily… even those prestigious gold medals earned at the Olympics.

Everything and everyone is returning to dust.

What, then, does this mean? Should we seek earthly glory while we can, like so many who’ve gone before us? Or is there an even wiser path to take?

***

Saint Paul tells us, “these athletes train for a perishable crown; but we for an imperishable one.” As Christians, we are challenged to train for the greatest crown of them all: the crown of eternal life.

And Jesus tells us exactly how to win it: pray, fast, do penance.

When we pray, we strengthen our relationship with our Father in heaven, the God who created us out of love, the one who knit us in our mother’s womb.

And simultaneously, we grow in communion with our brothers and sisters around the world who are reaching out to the same God, striving for the same glory.

When we fast, we remind ourselves that our deepest hunger is neither for bread nor for gold, but for God.

And when we perform acts of penance, we’re reminded of our weakness, the truth that we need Christ’s attention, we need his healing touch.

***

Christianity is the most demanding path of them all, for the only way up is down; if we are to rise with Jesus, then first we must die with him. And that begins by walking the path of humility, self-denial, and love.

And it continues by admitting that we are dust, and to dust we shall return.

But thanks be to God that is not the end of our story. The day will come when we shall be called by name out of the ash, and walking together across that heavenly stage, we shall proclaim the words of Saint Paul:

“I have competed well; I have finished the race. I have kept the faith…All that awaits me now is the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the just judge, will award to me … and to all who have longed for his appearance.”

May we compete well – and encourage one another along the way, because Christianity is not a zero-sum game; everyone wins.