"Seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you" (Mt 7:7).

I don’t know about you, but this passage about the effectiveness of prayer usually leaves me uncomfortable. When I knock, the door is not always opened to me, and when I ask, I don’t always receive.

While I was preaching on this passage recently, however, a vivid image came to me: there I was knocking repeatedly on a door, but no one was answering. It turns out that I was knocking on the wrong door!

When I knock on the door of material wealth, or power, for example, expecting that behind such a door I will find ultimate satisfaction, then no wonder that the door never opens.

Then there are surely times when I seek desperately but do not find what I am looking for. But these are undoubtedly the times when I am seeking in the wrong place! It’s a tale as old as the story of Adam and Eve, and which keeps repeating itself through the ages: we race around, looking for meaning in our lives in such things as possessions, power, and prestige. But in the end, we are still left feeling incomplete, with that inner hollowness still there, unfilled.

Looking in the wrong place and knocking on the wrong door end up leaving us frustrated and disappointed in God who does not answer our prayers.

“Why doesn’t God open the door? I have been knocking on it for years!” Well, it’s always a good idea to be sure that I am knocking on the right door and not on one that leads nowhere. Once I'm sure that I've got the right door, then I'm faced with the mystery of unanswered prayer. Saint Paul writes about this problem when he reminds his readers that when our prayers are not answered, one reason may be because we do not ask properly, or do not ask for the right things.

But that's a topic for another post or two.

I have found these two images, of seeking in the wrong place and knocking on the wrong door, helpful in approaching that complex question of why God does not seem to answer our prayers.

Tree of Life and Crucifixion

CRITERIA FOR SUCCESS

 

This past weekend was taken up with the celebration of Br. Bruno's solemn vows celebration, so my weekly blog post got postponed.  A week ago I attended our now biennial St. Benedict's Prep Hall of Fame dinner. So with your permission I am re-posting something from November 2011 related to the Hall of Fame.

A DIFFERENT CELEBRATION
Thursday evening I attended the Saint Benedict’s Prep Hall of Fame dinner. We honored athletes from all various decades, from the 1950s to the 1990s.

At these school events I’m one of the lucky ones for whom the evening is not simply one of nostalgia, not a matter of suddenly jumping back over a chasm of twenty or forty years to revisit some golden bygone days of ghostly schoolboy glories. For me these banquets are not homecomings at all -- I’m already home after all --rather they’re celebrations of community and continuity.

On Thursday night as I moved around the huge banquet room saying hello to people I hadn’t seen in decades, I was gliding back and forth along a single unbroken strand extending back in time, along which the years and the people flow together to form one single plot, one story from my days as a freshman in 1956 through my returning to teach in 1969, the closing and re-opening of the school in the early 1970’s right up until 2011. I experienced a feeling of wholeness, a sense of being carried along by the dynamic life of a beautiful community.

We also have an annual banquet at which we honor people who have contributed in various ways to our school, while the Hall of Fame Dinner, which happens only every few years, is pretty much restricted to athletes. The printed program of the latter always includes a list of the impressive athletic accomplishments of each inductee to show why the committee chose them to be honored.

THE ONE CRITERION

But later on as I flipped through the biographies in this year’s Hall of Fame program I wondered what God sees when looking at my life. What are God’s criteria for success? I already knew the answer, of course, so last night I started perusing an old copy of Ernesto Cardenale’s Vida en el Amor (1970) (translated into English in 1972 as “To Live Is to Love.” ), looking for a good way of expressing the criteria needed to get into God's Hall of Fame. After just a minute or two I found the following few sentences that seemed a pretty good summary of the criteria that are important to God [my translation]:

Man was created for love, only to love his creator. And whatever time he does not spend in this love is wasted time.

Love is the single law that governs the universe. That law that moves the sun and the other stars, as Dante says, because it is the law of cohesion uniting all things. The material out of which the universe is made is love.”

I sensed this love present in the vast banquet room as I shared stories and jokes with dozens of people. Love was the single thread "uniting all things:" God’s divine love uniting teammates, athletes and coaches, and also uniting the years and the experiences of my life, the triumphs and the trials (mine and those of my brothers and sisters), helping make sense of everything.

I came away as I always do after one of those dinners, thankful to be part of a monastery and a school community that has provided the possibility for this much love to pour itself out on the earth among so many varied people. “Thy kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven.”

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A HINT FROM HEROD

Herod Antipas

Herod the tetrarch heard about all that was happening,

and he was greatly perplexed because some were saying,

“John has been raised from the dead”;

others were saying, “Elijah has appeared”;

still others, “One of the ancient prophets has arisen.”

But Herod said, “John I beheaded.

Who then is this about whom I hear such things?”

And he kept trying to see him. (Luke 9:7-9)

The passage above was the gospel at mass this past Thursday. The celebrant, Fr. Edwin, pointed out in his homily the last sentence: “Herod kept trying to see Jesus.”

That little sentence is really worth reflecting on. This evil, pagan king is trying to see Jesus. The verb “trying” is in the imperfect tense in Greek, implying a repeated or continuous action in the past; this was not just a one time feeling for Herod. The verb has a few different meanings, another possible one is “desiring.”

And what about me? Could I honestly say that I myself keep "trying to see Jesus?” How badly do I “want to see Jesus?”

My faith tells me that God is constantly seeking me, pursuing me, inviting me to a relationship of intimacy with Him. But, do I do the same thing toward the Lord? Do I truly seek a close, intimate relationship with Jesus, or am I satisfied with saying routine prayers, and celebrating sacraments that give me grace? Although I may well be doing these things, but meanwhile the Lord keeps wanting to draw closer and closer to me in quiet meditation, in prayerful meditation on scripture, on self-sacrificing love of my brothers and sisters,

I can manage to keep God at a safe distance by doing lots of good works, and by reciting lots of prayers. But this is not the path that the Lord invites me to travel. He wants something a lot closer, a lot deeper: a relationship of love.

Back to the tetrarch Herod, who keeps trying to see Jesus. It seems a little odd to take this awful character as a model for my Christian life, but in his own way he is on to something. Maybe his example can shame me into seeking a deeper relationship with Jesus, and to keep seeking, to keep wanting to be closer to Him.

MATTHEW KEEPS LEAVING HIS POST

 

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Today the Church in invites us to celebrate the faith of Saint Matthew. You know the story of how he was converted from a sinner to a disciple in the blink of an eye:

As Jesus passed by,

he saw a man named Matthew sitting at the customs post.

He said to him, "Follow me."

And he got up and followed him. (Mt 9:9)

Matthew's response is an extreme example of someone following the invitation that Jesus extends to each one of us:

“If anyone comes to me without hating his father and mother,

wife and children, brothers and sisters, and even his own life,
he cannot be my disciple.
Whoever does not carry his own cross and come after me
cannot be my disciple.....
anyone of you who does not renounce all his possessions
cannot be my disciple.” (Lk 14:26, 27, 33)

The last verse interesting, especially the verb that's translated here as "renounce." In Greek, the word apotassomai means "to say farewell, to take leave of." In an earlier chapter of Luke, Jesus invites a man to follow him, and the fellow responds, "Let me go first and say good-bye to (apotassomai) my father." But in the above passage, the word is used in the extended sense of "to part with possessions."

This morning I asked myself, "What are the things that I need to say good-bye to in order to follow Jesus?" Each of us has his or her unique list, obviously, that may include worrying, trying to control other people, being preoccupied about material goods or money, and so on. The verb apotassomai  gave me pause: "unless you say good-bye to whatever you have..."  Okay, so let's say that I decide to give up my habit of trying to control everything, so that I can follow Christ. Let's say, further, that my resolution works and that I find myself walking across the wilderness with Jesus as a faithful follower. Then, I imagined the following scene this morning: As I'm following Jesus, I glance behind me and I see a little cloud of dust on the horizon, but I don't think anything of it. Ten minutes later, though, I look again and the cloud has gotten much bigger, and much closer. Clearly it's being caused by something travelling across the dusty wilderness -- something that's following us. I begin to wonder what it could be. The next time I look over my shoulder, I can make out what it is that's following us: it's my need to control all the people around me! The very thing that I left behind in order to walk with Jesus. The very thing that I "said goodbye to" not so long ago.

The problem is twofold: First, that although I had said good-bye to the habit, the habit hadn't said goodbye to me, and second, that I thought I was doing this all on my own, like spiritual a do-it-yourself project. Both of these are bad mistakes. Think of this image: You say goodbye to someone who you've come to realize is a bad influence on you; you leave them with a sigh of relief, not intending to see them ever again. But shortly thereafter, this person comes ringing your doorbell or starts texting you, clearly thinking that they're still part of your life. How frustrating! And you thought you were rid of this problem person! It seems that "saying goodbye" is not always enough to finish the job of separating from that other.

So, I've "said goodbye" to some practice or habit that could hold me back from following Jesus more closely. I think of Matthew having to constantly give up his former life as a tax-collector. My "conversion" project is not as dramatic as Matthews's was. But I bet that he was a lot like me in this: one goodbye wasn't enough: I need to keep repeating the same goodbye every day, I need to be converted not just once but constantly.


Clearly this can get frustrating and tiring -- which is why Jesus tells me to keep walking close to him: After all, this isn't my project as much as it is His.

I pray on the feast of St. Matthew for the gift of humility so that I can keep admitting that I depend on the Lord's help to keep converting every day of my life. I hope that I'll be able to accept his help and hear his words,"Do not be afraid. I am with you!"

YOUR EMPTY SPACE

I’m still re-reading Richard Rohr’s book, “The Divine Dance”. The following two excerpts are out of a much wider context form the book, but I trust that they may still challenge you as they have challenged me. I offer them as food for your own reflection -- in other words, I'll let the Holy Spirit and you do the work this week.

You must guard and protect your inner space. This is precisely what Yahweh says to Israel, “I shall come to meet you.” But most have not been taught the practice or the patience to stand guard over this seemingly empty space where your inner witnessing presence, your quiet inner Knower, dwells. You must learn to trust this Knower. The Spirit is doing the knowing and loving in you, with you, and for you. This is at the heart of a contemplative, and truly Christian epistemology. 112

You yourself are a traveling ark of the covenant; you hold and guard the space where the Presence shows itself. But the Presence, the force field, is already held with in you. It only needs allowing and appreciate it. 113

EMPTY YOUR POCKETS!

The gospel for today, Saturday, tells of the confrontation between Jesus and some Pharisees who were condemning his disciples for breaking the Sabbath by picking heads of grain and rubbing them in their hands. 

Over the past weeks we have been running into these Pharisees and their scrupulous observance of externals. And we have seen how Jesus condemns their way of observing tiny externals while not practicing love of neighbor, kindness, generosity, forgiveness, and other virtues that are called for in the Law. 

These Pharisees are intent on working the system, on knowing how to manage God, and keep God at bay.

I once heard someone describe a religious fellow by saying, “He thinks he has God in his pocket!” That description seems to fit the Pharisees who keep coming after Jesus for not observing all the external practices of Judaism (including the man-made ones).

These days, when you go through the security check at the airport, the TSA agents make you take everything out of your pockets. 

“Empty your pockets, please! Nothing in your pockets!“ 

It may be helpful to check my spiritual pockets now and then to make sure that I haven’t put God in there anywhere. If I have obeyed all the Commandments and avoided serious sin and gotten to the sacraments, I may start relaxing and becoming self-satisfied. In other words, I may find that I have inadvertently slipped God into my pocket.

Jesus is always inviting his followers into a personal relationship with his Heavenly Father, not just a transactional agreement with some heavenly accountant who is up there somewhere keeping score.

In the first reading of mass this morning (1 Cor. 4:7), Paul asks his readers, “What do you possess that you have not received?” 

In Greek, this last word “received” is defined as “to receive or accept an object or benefit for which the initiative rests with the giver.” This sounds like a much better basis for religion than the idea of keeping score and racking up points with a Score-keeper God in heaven.

“What do you possess that you have not received as a pure gift, a grace from your loving Father?” The image of having something “in my pocket“ conveys the idea that I am in control of whatever that object may be. How silly, then, is the idea of trying to put God in my pocket, when it is God who has given me everything — including my pocket!

Just yesterday I came across this quotation in Richard Rohr’s book, The Divine Dance: “To accept that you are accepted, is ironically, experienced in the first moment as a loss of power.” P. 109 

When I finally accept the truth that God accepts and loves me just as I am, I am letting go of power and becoming vulnerable to God’s love. 

Let’s pray today that each of us will be able to allow God to take over our lives. No more God-in-my-pocket!

Everyone empty your pockets, please!

HUGGING JESUS?

It's 7:10 this past Thursday morning. 

I've finished Morning Prayer and breakfast and am on my way to my third floor room in the monastery. To get to the elevator I have to pass through the lobby of the school (the school building is connected to the monastery on each of the four floors).

Students are already coming through the front door into the lobby. I notice a little seventh grader sitting alone on a bench, so I stop and ask him what’s up. He explains that he's stuck in the lobby because he doesn't have his identification tag. It's up in room 30, his homeroom, but he has no way of getting to it. Without his ID he can't get past the lobby, will be counted as late and may miss his first period class. Being in something of a hurry, I just say to him “Well, you’ll figure something out. Don’t worry!“ 

Then I hustle off and get on the elevator. As I'm riding up to the third floor, my conscience starts to bother me: the elevator is going to let me off on the third floor right by room 30 anyway, and I have a key.

So as I get off the elevator, I decide to go to room 30 and see if I can find this kid‘s ID somehow. I let myself into the room with no real hope of finding the missing tag, but within a few seconds I see it lying on the teacher’s desk!

I scoop it up and head for the lobby, happy that I'll be saving this kid a ton of trouble. 

I walk into the lobby where he is still sitting, and I hold up the ID card so he can see it from across the room. The look of surprise and joy on his face makes my day, and it's only 7:10 in the morning.

When I hand him his card, he seems at a loss for words. He shakes my hand and mumbles “Thank you.” I turn to hurry toward the elevator and my monastery room. 

“Father Al!” I turn around to see him trotting after me. I look down at him (his eyes are at the level of my chest). But before I can ask him what he wants, he says to me, “Can I give you a hug?” 

Mind you, I don’t know this kid at all, and this is the first time that I have ever spoken to him. 

So we trade a quick hug, and go our separate ways.

That little seventh grader's request, “Can I give you a hug?“ has stayed with me. He had been stuck for words, so he solved his problem by asking if he could hug me. How cool is that!

This little encounter has made me think about gratitude. Particularly about being grateful to God for all the things he does for me every day. I often write down in my prayer journal things that I am thankful for, so it’s not as if I'm totally unaware of God's constant gifts.

But then, yesterday I suddenly wondered if I have ever asked God, “Can I give you a hug?”

I’m sure that the Lord would love a hug, but the problem is, how can I hug Jesus?

Actually there are tons of good answers to this question, all of them based on this saying: “Whatsoever you do to one of the least of my brothers, you do to me.” Jesus is very clear about identifying with the poor, the weak, the sick and so on. 

So, when I ask Jesus if I can hug him, he says “Absolutely! Please! You can find me anywhere, and hug me by your kindness, your generosity, your understanding or just by listening to me when I need someone to talk to."

So, this seventh grader's question was itself a gift from God, a reminder that, if God is hugging me all the time, I better be sure to be hugging back!