I should warn you that I'm going to say "crazy" things. As the young people say, "It is what it is." It is good to tell people to follow the commandments. If it weren't good to follow the commandments, God would not give them to us. Still, we can easily imagine or we have seen laws become ends in themselves. Our Lord's opponents had made the Law an end in itself. A person who doesn't try to follow the commandments may not be malicious, but he is certainly blind. Sin blinds us, and we know this. Yet we are blinded in two ways: First, we cannot see God in His goodness; and second, we can only see ourselves.
And yet, in the end, there's little profit in keeping the Law as an end. "All these I have kept since I was a boy," said the rich young man. There is no ladder to God. This is why it says, "It does not depend on him who strives, or him who runs, but upon God's mercy."
I don't like to spend too much time talking about the "state of grace," though I suppose we should, especially in regard to the reception of Holy Communion. The reason we should not dwell on it though is that an ark full of strivers and runners gets to believing that if they are not conscious of a mortal sin, they are the good. The truth is that we have received all that we are that is good. Suppose grave matters are not strange or theoretical to us. If Holy Communion is a prize for the pious, the balance of us will ask, "Why can't I just be better?" or say, "I can't believe I did that!" The saints will be these far-off heroes and archetypes we will never reach. We will marvel, but never imagine that we will be like them. If we have enough "common" faith, we may prudently arrange that Christ's mercy in the sacraments is never far. Still, we'll end our lives simply common.
To use an analogy, however, take the legend Roberto Clemente. Most lovers of baseball know him as one of the greatest players and greatest hitters who ever lived. A baseball "saint," to be sure. The lesson is this: Go back far enough, and young Roberto was a kid with a bat and a glove, who loved the game. He was great because he forgot himself, and played for the sheer love of the game. There was a certain striving, sure. But no one would say that the practice and working out was the love. Rather, the effort makes the love fruitful. You cannot be great until you can see greatness, until it seems possible.
But it's God's love, not our own. We cannot leave the place of striving until we are small. My worst failing, and my greatest victory are nothing compared to the love of God. I can offer my mite, because it is as nothing; it is not the labor of my hands, but the fruit of His cultivation.
I have become aware that I am His, and He is mine. No matter the seeming distance between us, His love is now the ground of my existence. Not in my head, but in my heart, where what I believe and do is decided.
Not long ago, I thought that my tendency toward sin was an alien presence, that warred against my mind. In a certain sense, this is true. Everyone who knows the commandments and breaks them is at war with themselves. But what is this alien presence, truly? It is that part of myself which does not mystically know that he is loved. I may have intellectually believed it, confessed, and taught it for a long time. But the mystic-knowing sees Christ sitting right next to me. He's not a concept or idea anymore. He's right here. I know in this mystic-knowing that I don't want to begin again; I don't want to be a beast he must make alive again. He's my friend, and he always was.
This is why the saints have whole loving conversations with him, and the smallest lapses will be deep regrets that nevertheless last only a moment. They're not crazy; they're in love. They're not chasing Him; they've been caught. The rest of it is to stop hiding parts of themselves from their Lover and Healer.
Don't get married, unless you have to. To be naked and unashamed before another sinner is just about the craziest thing in earthly terms you can do. We rightly warn people that another person cannot fill any of us. But what a crazy thing, to be so vulnerable that we're tempted to let them try it! It seems to me we got the analogy backward: Looking for someone with whom we can be completely safe, writing songs, poems, and stories about it for thousands of years, and the truth is, the Lover of all is more trustworthy than all noble lovers who ever loved!
I never liked, "Of course he isn't safe. But he's good". Wherever that came from. It seems like it glorifies sheer terror of God. What we mean is, "I'm no longer in control, and that's fine." We cannot hold on to fear. We must trust, or we remain bound. We cannot grudgingly surrender; we do, or we do not.
And yet, in the end, there's little profit in keeping the Law as an end. "All these I have kept since I was a boy," said the rich young man. There is no ladder to God. This is why it says, "It does not depend on him who strives, or him who runs, but upon God's mercy."
I don't like to spend too much time talking about the "state of grace," though I suppose we should, especially in regard to the reception of Holy Communion. The reason we should not dwell on it though is that an ark full of strivers and runners gets to believing that if they are not conscious of a mortal sin, they are the good. The truth is that we have received all that we are that is good. Suppose grave matters are not strange or theoretical to us. If Holy Communion is a prize for the pious, the balance of us will ask, "Why can't I just be better?" or say, "I can't believe I did that!" The saints will be these far-off heroes and archetypes we will never reach. We will marvel, but never imagine that we will be like them. If we have enough "common" faith, we may prudently arrange that Christ's mercy in the sacraments is never far. Still, we'll end our lives simply common.
To use an analogy, however, take the legend Roberto Clemente. Most lovers of baseball know him as one of the greatest players and greatest hitters who ever lived. A baseball "saint," to be sure. The lesson is this: Go back far enough, and young Roberto was a kid with a bat and a glove, who loved the game. He was great because he forgot himself, and played for the sheer love of the game. There was a certain striving, sure. But no one would say that the practice and working out was the love. Rather, the effort makes the love fruitful. You cannot be great until you can see greatness, until it seems possible.
But it's God's love, not our own. We cannot leave the place of striving until we are small. My worst failing, and my greatest victory are nothing compared to the love of God. I can offer my mite, because it is as nothing; it is not the labor of my hands, but the fruit of His cultivation.
I have become aware that I am His, and He is mine. No matter the seeming distance between us, His love is now the ground of my existence. Not in my head, but in my heart, where what I believe and do is decided.
Not long ago, I thought that my tendency toward sin was an alien presence, that warred against my mind. In a certain sense, this is true. Everyone who knows the commandments and breaks them is at war with themselves. But what is this alien presence, truly? It is that part of myself which does not mystically know that he is loved. I may have intellectually believed it, confessed, and taught it for a long time. But the mystic-knowing sees Christ sitting right next to me. He's not a concept or idea anymore. He's right here. I know in this mystic-knowing that I don't want to begin again; I don't want to be a beast he must make alive again. He's my friend, and he always was.
This is why the saints have whole loving conversations with him, and the smallest lapses will be deep regrets that nevertheless last only a moment. They're not crazy; they're in love. They're not chasing Him; they've been caught. The rest of it is to stop hiding parts of themselves from their Lover and Healer.
Don't get married, unless you have to. To be naked and unashamed before another sinner is just about the craziest thing in earthly terms you can do. We rightly warn people that another person cannot fill any of us. But what a crazy thing, to be so vulnerable that we're tempted to let them try it! It seems to me we got the analogy backward: Looking for someone with whom we can be completely safe, writing songs, poems, and stories about it for thousands of years, and the truth is, the Lover of all is more trustworthy than all noble lovers who ever loved!
I never liked, "Of course he isn't safe. But he's good". Wherever that came from. It seems like it glorifies sheer terror of God. What we mean is, "I'm no longer in control, and that's fine." We cannot hold on to fear. We must trust, or we remain bound. We cannot grudgingly surrender; we do, or we do not.
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