10.31.14 - 30th Friday of Ordinary Time - Fear of Skeletons

Dropsy is the affliction of excess fluid buildup in the body – usually in the extremities.  In the extreme cases, a person may be grotesque in appearance – and so people feel uncomfortable in their presence.  Jesus takes this opportunity to present the man to the leading Pharisee and guests – and asks whether it is permissible to heal him on the Sabbath.  The Pharisee, instead of saying anything, is quiet – probably avoiding even making eye contact with the man.

            Jesus has to remind him that the man is someone’s son – he is not a monster – he is loved by his family and friends, and he loves them back.  Most importantly, Jesus loves him because he was created in the image of God.

            GK Chesterton, in one of his famous essays – made a case for the defense of skeletons.  He says people are afraid of skeletons, but they ought not be – each of us has one very close to us – without it, we would be a formless pile of flesh.

            It is not death, that the skeleton reminds us of, but rather indignity and ugliness – we fear this grotesque creatures that lies hidden beneath our skin, hidden beneath our vanity.

            He criticizes those who say that the value and fascination of what we call Nature lie in her beauty.  This he says, is only one of her charms – and almost accidental.  “The highest and most valuable quality in Nature is not her beauty, but her generous and defiant ugliness.  Has the poet, for whom Nature means only roses and lilies ever heard a pig grunting?”  And in a brilliant line, he says: beneath my vanity “the bones of my skull beneath it are laughing forever.”

            Having a good sense of our interior ugliness – both physically and spiritually is a good lesson in humility – perhaps a redeeming quality for those who will don monster masks tonight.  It was vanity and pride which silenced the Pharisee in the presence of the malformed.  If we are humble, we know our ugliness, then no ugliness will scare us – not dropsy or skeletons.  We will even see the face of God in the grotesque.

The Skeleton, by G.K. Chesterton

Chattering finch and water-fly
Are not merrier than I;
Here among the flowers I lie
Laughing everlastingly.
No; I may not tell the best;
Surely, friends, I might have guessed
Death was but the good King's jest,
It was hid so carefully. 

November 11, 2013 - 32nd Monday of Ordinary Time - The cross of forgiveness

Forgiveness is like martyrdom - except that we can forgive as many times as we’ve been offended.  Like martyrdom, when we forgive, we surrender what is good though temporary for what is greater and eternal.  Our ultimate sign of forgiveness is Jesus on the cross where he says: “Father, forgive them for they know not what they are doing.”  And we still enjoy the benefit of that act of forgiveness every time we approach Jesus in the confessional.  The combination of Jesus’ suffering and his forgiving us, gives us insight as to what true forgiveness is and what it feels like.

Many who want to forgive merely want to forget – but that is forgiveness without the cross.  The memory of the offense against us is where forgiveness gains its power – because through forgiveness, charity compels us to not hold this memory against another.  Through forgiveness, we take the memory as our cross – we add it to the cross we are already carrying.  And thus forgiveness does not make us feel better about the injustice against us – rather it increases our suffering.

Forgiveness, then, does not look very attractive – except of course when we are the one who is being forgiven.  But to dish it out seems to be asking too much of us.  But this is exactly what Christ wants us to do – and we discover that while our suffering increases – so does our charity – our love – and so we more willingly carry our cross – not because it is easier, but because love compels us.  While scandal tends to alienate souls from God, charity inspires souls to seek the gates of heaven.  May we always take every opportunity in which we are unjustly treated as a moment of dry martyrdom – an opportunity to show love despite the cost.