I think the most important thing about going into classical music is that one must love it more than anything else in the world, and to feel that without it his life would be incomplete, so that he must have it at all costs, all expense, for the rest of his life.

(Daniel B. Wood, “The Sweet Sounds of Success,” The Houston Post, Wednesday, October 18, 1989).

What do I love more than anything else in the world?  What do I want more than anything else?  Most of us have mixed desires.  We want this … on the other hand we want that.  But beneath the mixed desires, what is my heart’s desire?  What do I want most of all?

• One day, during a brief stint teaching religion to high school seniors, I made the comment that what makes us happy is not a fancy stereo (this was in olden pre-mp3 days) or cool clothes or a new car.  One seventeen-year-old girl raised her hand and said, not in a smart-alecky tone, but very sincerely and obviously rather puzzled, “But that’s what makes me happy!”  (She has probably lived long enough by now to know better.)

• We know a woman who is addicted to crack cocaine.  What she wants more than anything is crack.  She wants it more than she wants light, heat, and water – so all of her utilities have been turned off now for several months.

• On Answerbag.com the question, “What do you want more than anything else in the world?” brings responses ranging from the superficial to the nearly sublime.  One person replies, “A brand new Colt SAA .45 cal. Buntline Special with a western holster rig.”  Another says, “To be content and know that my actions have affected the world in only positive ways.”

• When God appeared to Solomon in a dream and asked what he desired, Solomon requested an understanding heart, “able to discern between good and evil” (1 Kings 3:9).  God was pleased with Solomon’s request.  If Solomon had gone a bit deeper into his heart, however, he might have gotten in touch with an even more basic love, which for him was expressing itself in the longing for an understanding heart.  This is a desire which has been planted in each of our hearts whether or not we know it.

Out of this desire comes the following prayer by Julian of Norwich:

God, of your goodness give me yourself, for you are sufficient for me.  I cannot properly ask anything less, to be worthy of you.  If I were to ask less, I should always be in want. In you alone do I have all.

• that there are about 118,000 vacancies for registered nurses in the United States;
• that the baby of a pregnant woman has died after his mother was kidnapped and set on fire;
• that soldiers in the army of former Liberian President Charles Taylor, had been known to eat the hearts of enemies they had killed;
• that the world food supply is dwindling.

Then I remember that on Christmas we are going to hear that the angels proclaimed, some 2000 years ago: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace.” We might well wonder what happened.

Standing boldly against the daily news reports is the testimony of some of our wise Christian thinkers and mystics, for example:

Josef Pieper (a 20th century follower of Saint Thomas Aquinas), writes in Happiness and Contemplation.

How splendid is water, a rose, a tree, an apple, a human face—such exclamations can scarcely be spoken without also giving tongue to an assent and affirmation which extends beyond the object praised and touches upon the origin of the universe. Who among us has not suddenly looked into his child’s face, in the midst of the toils and troubles of everyday life, and at that moment “seen” that everything which is good, is loved and lovable, loved by God! Such certainties all mean, at bottom, one and the same thing: that the world is plumb and sound; that everything comes to its appointed goal; that in spite of all appearances, underlying all things is—peace, salvation, gloria; that nothing and no one is lost; that “God holds in his hand the beginning, middle, and end of all that is.” [Plato, Laws, 715e.]

In the 14th century, Julian of Norwich hears the consoling and mysterious words:

Sin is behovely [fitting, useful], but all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.

And surpassing all other testimony is that of our own beloved Scriptures:

We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose. (Romans 8:28)

The Lord will fulfill his purpose for me. (Psalm 138:8)

Which is true?

Is the world an irredeemable mess where sin and sorrow are the ultimate truth?

Or is the promise of peace and goodwill on earth true? Can I believe that God will fulfill the divine purpose for me and that everything comes to its appointed goal?

We read in the gospel that the kingdom of God is among us. But we are also told to pray for the coming of the kingdom of God. We know that Jesus is here with us — and yet we still call out, “Come, Lord Jesus.”

The problem is that we live in the mystery of the already and the not yet; and this is so both in our own personal lives and in the world around us.

Nevertheless, I believe that at times God gives us the grace to glimpse the already through the not yet. We may glimpse it in terms of goodness, like the Cenacle co-founder Saint Therese Couderc — or as love, for example, or beauty, or the perfection of all things.

At the heart of things, all is in God’s hand. Christ has not only come but has died and is risen. God is sovereign; goodness triumphs.

Does this mean that we can ignore the evils we see around us? That we can say, for example, that since God is sovereign and goodness is triumphant, we don’t have to do anything about the state of our planet and our society? That we can concern ourselves with satisfying the ego, and let all else go?

Paul also struggled with this question: “What then are we to say? Should we continue in sin in order that grace may abound?”

He answers his own question: “By no means!” (Romans 6:1)

God’s plan does triumph, but just as we are called to be participants in the divine life, we also have a role in the divine mission. We pray for our own sinful and divided hearts to be purified. We work to end violence, injustice, poverty, homelessness, and pain. But we do not despair, either because of our own weakness and sinfulness or because of the state of the world, for once again, Jesus has come among us, has died and is risen. God has triumphed — in us as well as in creation as a whole.

We claim as our own the vision of Isaiah, who saw that:

The wolf shall dwell with the lamb,
the leopard shall lie down with the kid…
They will not hurt or destroy
on all my holy mountain;
for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord
as the waters cover the sea.
(Isaiah 11:6,9)

EVERYTHING WILL BE OK.

Who had put it there? Did every Times-Union vending box carry this assurance, in startling contrast to the messages found in the paper itself? Or had a hope-filled vandal struck?

Was it pure chance that I was sitting there gazing at this mystifying communication? Or was it a reminder to me of a truth that I was neglecting?

The sign on the newspaper box was one of those small mysteries that have no explanation (mysteries are not puzzles to be solved), but which nudge us into mindfulness.

I thought of the words Julian of Norwich heard from Jesus:

All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.

I thought also of Romans 8:

We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose. (8:28)

Events of our own lives, however, can sometimes make it very hard to believe that all manner of things will be well. Reading the newspaper, watching CNN, or surfing the internet, we may find it even harder. What about the genocide in Darfur, the war in Iraq, or global warming with all its implications? What about the victims of Hurricane Katrina who still reside in tiny FEMA trailers? What about the homeless couple who appeared at our door the other day, eager for work that we could not offer?

Christians live in hope. We are always looking not only at what we see here and now, but toward what is promised. We live in hope of the fulfillment of all things, which in some deep sense is present to us even now through the Resurrection of Jesus. We believe that time is going somewhere, not just in circles. God is leading us beyond where we are now. Our future is good.

So we contemplate the Resurrection, and we cling to hope. We continue to hope beyond all hope. For nothing in our lives is wasted. Goodness, despite all appearances, does prevail.
. . . . . . . . . .

P.S. A friend called after reading the above reflection. She wanted to know if Sister Elizabeth found her sunglasses. So for all who feel as if you have been left hanging, I am happy to report that yes, she did find them right where she left them.

The thought of my affliction and my homelessness
is wormwood and gall!
My soul continually thinks of it
and is bowed down within me.
But this I call to mind,
and therefore I have hope:
The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases,
his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
‘The Lord is my portion,’ says my soul,
‘therefore I will hope in him.’

(Lamentations 3:19-21)

How Shall I Go to God?

It is with our sins that we go to God, for we have nothing else to go with that we can call our own. This is one of the lessons that we are so slow to learn; yet without learning this we cannot take one right step in that which we call a religious life…

Yes; pardon, peace, life, are all of them gifts, Divine gifts, brought down from heaven by the Son of God, presented personally to each needy sinner by the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. They are not to be bought, but received; as [people] receive the sunshine, complete and sure and free… They are not to be claimed on the ground of fitness or goodness, but of need and unworthiness, of poverty and emptiness.

Horatius Bonar (1808-1889), “How Shall I Go to God?”

Mercy

“Oh, Mercy! … Wherever I turn my thoughts, I find nothing but mercy.”

St. Catherine of Siena, Dialogues 30

And in this life mercy and forgiveness are our path and keep leading us on to grace.…
[F]or through the working of grace our fearful failing is transformed into abundant, eternal comfort, and through the working of grace our shameful falling is transformed into high, noble rising, and through the working of grace our sorrowful dying is transformed into holy, blessed life.

Julian of Norwich, Revelations of Divine Love,
translated by Elizabeth Spearing
(London: Penguin, 1998), LT, 50, 48.

Now I find myself quite devoid of virtues, I can even say that I see none in me, and it seems to me that if the Good God called me to give an account of my deeds to him, I would find myself with empty hands, having no other recourse than his great Mercy. And with that I hope, I have confidence, and I abandon myself to his good pleasure with a calmness and a peace which nothing disturbs and which it seems to me that he alone can give.

Saint Thérèse Couderc, Letter to Mother de Larochenégly, August 7, 1867

My Weakness

My own failures are many. My capacity for weakness on days seems undiminished. I am an embarrassment to myself and yet I am loved so wonderfully. There is perhaps one difference that my experiences with God have given me. I no longer weep tears of shame. I cry tears of joy and wonder. I am amazed by God and His power to love me. He makes all things work together for good. I’m not much of a challenge to His genius and creativity.

Graham Cooke, “Making the Most of Failure”

In fact, since our natural and deepest longing is for God, a lot of our lesser longings are actually misplaced. We may think it’s a new computer we want, when actually it is God we are longing for. After all, as St. Augustine says in his Confessions, “You have made us for yourself, and our heart is restless until it comes to rest in you.”

What is more, our own longing is always in the context of God’s longing for us. God loves us before we can even begin to love God and implants in us our desire for God. So the two desires, God’s and ours, are in harmony. During Advent we are reminded of this intersection of two longings: God’s for us, and ours for God. Graciously these two longings meet in the One who is Emmanuel, “God with us.”

“I am the root and the descendant of David,
the bright morning star.”
The Spirit and the bride say, “Come.”
And let everyone who hears say, “Come.”
And let everyone who is thirsty come.
Let anyone who wishes take the water of life as a gift.
The one who testifies to these things says, “Surely I am coming soon.”
Amen.
Come, Lord Jesus!
(Revelation 22:16b-17, 20)

Consider the spirit of the old hymn by Anna L. Coghill (not an American, but an Englishwoman):

Work, for the night is coming,
Work through the morning hours;
Work while the dew is sparkling,
Work ’mid springing flowers…

In the second verse the work continues through noon, and even, in the third verse, “under the sunset skies.” God is never mentioned in this call to ceaseless labor.

The look-busy and keep-busy approach can extend also to the human spirit. I am lax – even perhaps in mortal danger – if I relax for a moment in my interior toil directed toward my virtue and well-being or that of my loved ones. This often translates into constant worry. I must make myself worthy of salvation, lest by negligence I be lost forever. What is more, if I notice that I am not worrying about something, I become anxious that I am not doing enough to satisfy the demanding will of God.

My refrigerator magnet

If I were to promote a refrigerator magnet or button, my choice would be one that proclaims,

What is rest?

But what is rest? Collapsing in front of the television? More than that, surely.

Rest is knowing that if I could make myself worthy of salvation, I wouldn’t need Jesus. But I cannot – and I don’t have to!

At home in God with Jesus, rest is freedom from all that fatigues: from fear, from trying to be God.

Rest is being enfolded in the arms of my heavenly parent, at peace with knowing I am too small to deal with my own mistakes and sins all by myself.

Rest is knowing that, as Julian of Norwich says, “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.” Sin is real, and so is pain, but all shall be well.

Rest is trusting that God is working out the divine purpose in the universe and in my own heart, although it is obvious that neither is finished yet, according to human time. Rest is knowing that the fulfillment of God’s cosmic plan is not up to me, although I do have a role to play in it.

Rest is knowing that there is a time for waiting, and that waiting bears fruit, whether it is waiting for crops, waiting for the birth of a child, or waiting for God’s good pleasure in God’s own time.

So we say, not frantic, not fearful, but in peaceful expectation, “Come, Lord Jesus!”

‘Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.’

(Matthew 11:28-30)