The Two Rabbits

You find yourself in a vast wilderness of meadow and forest. Two rabbits frolic before you. Suddenly, you realize that you are hungry, starving actually. You grab a rock and set your sights on the first rabbit, which is plump and slow. It almost seems to wander into your grasp as it ambles through the grass. You quickly dispatch the unsuspecting critter and prepare a fire. Your mouth waters as you catch a scent of the roasting hare. As you begin to feast on your prize, an overwhelming sense of contentment washes over you. This is perhaps the best meal that you've ever eaten. However, your satisfaction lasts only for a few moments. Soon you're left with a stale aftertaste. Eager to experience the euphoria of that first bite, you take a second, then a third, and a fourth. Soon you're shoveling bite after bite into your mouth as your senses gyrate between overwhelming pleasure and cruel emptiness. Despite this see saw of experience, you don't stop but rather continue to consume the meat at a more vigorous pace. Teeth gnash bone, fat, and cartilage. Your teeth crack as you swallow bony splinters between gulps of your own blood. Yet you continue to consume all the more. Eventually, you feel a sharp pain in your stomach. Like a lightning bolt illuminating a dark horizon, you are shocked by the realization that you have made a horrible mistake. You must find help, or surely you will die an agonizing and lonely death. 

Let's rewind and return to the meadow. Perhaps you're aware of the pitfalls of eating the plump rabbit and knowing the awful fate of those who consume its flesh, you decide to go after the other hare. With vigor and conviction, you pick up a stone and take off after the second rabbit. However, this animal is much more agile than the first. Every attempt to subdue this lively creature ends with the rabbit just outside of your grasp. As if on cue, the plump rabbit gingerly hops across your path. Despite your ravenous hunger and fatigue, the fate of those who eat the fat rabbit is fresh in your mind. You turn from these grotesque and terrifying images and set your sights on the second rabbit. All that you can see is a small, puffy white tail darting about far in the distance. Exhaustion replaces fatigue as you decide to rest for a while. After all, a few moments of rest will help you to summon the energy to hunt this vigorous creature. As you begin to sit down on the ground, your body is pulled to the soft grass. With heavy limbs and ragged breath, you settle into the warm grass and consider the prospect of chasing the second rabbit. Daunted by the prospect of pursuing such robust prey, you decide to rest a while longer. Evening begins to fade into twilight as your hunger wanes to starvation. In what seems to be a miracle, the second rabbit reappears just a few yards away. You grasp a stone and ready yourself to cast it. The stone is heavy in your hand. As you consider the weight of the stone something brushes up against your leg, the first rabbit, plump and begging to be eaten. You look up to reacquire your initial target but now the second rabbit is out of your range. Overcome with exhaustion, you fall to the ground. Perhaps a few more minutes of rest will give you the strength that you need to renew your pursuit of the second rabbit. A return of strength is what you expected, but a profound weariness overtakes you. The second rabbit disappears in the thick meadow as the last light fades. The second rabbit slowly plods to its burrow as your breaths become shallower and further apart. Fear and loneliness overtake you as your vision fades into the blackness of the empty wilderness.

Back to the meadow. Recognizing the fate of those who eat the first rabbit and the fact that if you don't eat you will die, you firmly resolve to capture the second rabbit. However, this rabbit is lean and agile, darting from brush to bramble, seeming to escape every attempt at capture. You spend hours chasing after your prize but after nearly an entire day, your stone makes its mark and the second rabbit is delivered into your grasp. As you prepare a fire you are filled with a sense of accomplishment and joy. You begin to eat the rabbit and are amazed at the tenderness and flavor of the meat. Surprise sets in as you realize that this meal is unlike any that you've ever eaten. You savor every last bite as you look with satisfaction upon the struggle, the great adventure that you underwent to procure this meal. Sustained, you extinguish the fire and begin to make your way back to civilization. Despite a long journey, you find that you are not tired. Days pass to weeks, months, then years. Yet, the contentment of the second rabbit remains. The feeling of gratification flourishes and grows stronger. The burgeoning joy of this simple meal grows as contentment give way to ecstasy. "But, as it is written: That eye hath not seen, nor ear heard: neither hath it entered into the heart of man, what things God hath prepared for them that love him" (1).

We pursue three possible states in life: sin, lukewarmness, or communion with God. The promise of life lived in relationship with God is happiness on earth and eternal joy in heaven. Holy Mother Church clearly proclaims that our purpose in life is to "know, love, and serve God"(2). Our primary goal during this short time on earth is to develop a relationship with God. This relationship is designed to be free and filled with joy. "God, infinitely perfect and blessed in himself, in a plan of sheer goodness freely created man to make him share in his own blessed life" (3). This life is a free gift from a loving God and is designed to bring us to the fulfillment of all our desires, complete union with the life of God. Through prayer as well as acts of mercy and sacrifice we can begin to achieve this purpose of ours. Our job in life is to grow in our love for God and to will the good of others out of our love for God. If we are successful at this one task, we are promised a life filled with inner peace and an eternity of joy beyond our wildest imagination. 

How could we possibly pass up this invitation to live how we were meant to live? Every moment of every day the world, the flesh, and the devil wage war against us. The world laughs at us for wasting time in prayer when we should be working, providing security for our family, and building up an admirable reputation for ourselves. The flesh demands that we have another drink when we know that it will lead to drunkenness. Satan and his demons whisper quietly in depths of our soul, convincing us that we are hopeless sinners so why even bother trying to live a more perfect life. In short, we are constantly tempted to sin. 

If the summit of our happiness is life in God, then the lowest depth of our misery is life apart from Him. Sin is "humanity's rejection of God and opposition to him'' (4). We make a statement when we sin; we take a firm stand that we want nothing to do with God. Rather, through sin we boldly proclaim that we are better off without God and we choose our ways over His ways. How could this be though? Take drunkenness, for example: how could I be turning from God if getting drunk brings me pleasure and contentment? If I'm not hurting anyone, then what is the harm in pursuing pleasure? 

It's true, we can enjoy pleasure so long as we do so in an ordered way. Intoxication, for example, is disordered because it removes our ability to reason, and elevates the sensation of pleasure to the extent that we cannot focus on anything else. Like a fly hopelessly attracted toward light, we grasp the comfort and pleasure of sin and tighten our grip more and more. In the moment of sin, especially grave sin, we become incapable of loving God because we have consumed ourselves with the love of something else: the feeling of adrenaline that comes from using drugs, the surge of pleasure that comes with sex, or the numbing comfort brought by drunkenness. Our sins create attachments, which in turn become idols. These false gods demand more and more from us in this life until we are utterly consumed by their commands. The sweet savory flesh of pleasure rots and grows putrid, yet we cannot stop ourselves from consuming it. Satan, the destroyer, continues to whisper to us and to lead us from God into a state of misery on earth. If we die in this state of separation, God allows us to seek after these pleasures in the afterlife. However, instead of comfort, we are given the fruits of our sin: utter nothingness and pain. The great gods that were our pleasures in life take off their masks and we see them for what they are: the monstrous demons who torment us day and night, every second of every day, over and over again for eternity. Utterly alone, we are greeted with reoccurring deaths, each more horrific, more terrifying, and more painful than the last.  

Could there be anything worse than the fate of sin? No, but there is a state on earth that is perhaps more perilous because it fools us into thinking that we are living with God without really seeking Him and avoiding sin without outright rejecting it. Lukewarmness is this state that neither pursues God nor turns fully away from sin. Instead, the lukewarm hover between a state of grace and one of separation, unaware of the peril in which they find themselves. When we sin, there is hope that we can feel the bitter pain of our turning from God and that we can renew our relationship with Him through the sacrament of Reconciliation. However, when we are lukewarm there is no such alarm; we are not great sinners so we think that we are in God's favor, but we are also not pursuing holiness so we are listless and stuck in a state that is neither one of grave sin nor of communion with God. 

Before we can fully understand the danger of lukewarmness, we need to define it. Lukewarmness is "hesitation or negligence in responding to divine love, it can imply a refusal to give oneself over to the prompting of charity" (5). God reveals His sentiment towards lukewarmness in the book of Revelation: "I know thy works, that thou art neither cold nor hot. I would thou wert cold or hot. But because thou art neither cold nor hot, I will begin to vomit thee out of my mouth " (6). Not to choose sin or God is still a choice. It may even be a more dangerous choice than sin because it gives us a false sense of security. Yet, lukewarmness ultimately leads to the same fate as sin: to be separated from God. In this perilous in-between state we fail to notice our hunger for God and the poison of sin as we live lives of restlessness and discontent.

Every day brings with it a choice: will we seek God, turn from Him, or stand still? We can seek God, finding hard-earned happiness in this life and unimaginable fulfillment in the next. We can turn from God, exhausting ourselves in a miserable struggle to fulfill the unquenchable desire of pleasure on earth, condemning ourselves to utter isolation and agony in hell. Finally, we could do nothing, neither progressing nor regressing, bringing an empty restlessness during this life and a starvation that consumes our entire being as we are slowly pulled into hell "where their worm dieth not, and the fire is not extinguished" (7). Which path are you seeking?    

_________________________________________________________________________________

References:

(1) 1 Corinthians 2:9-10.

(2) The Baltimore Catechism, Q.126., obtained via http://www.baltimore-catechism.com/lesson1.htm.

(3)  Catechism of the Catholic Church: With modifications from the Editio Typica. (2003). New York: Doubleday. Paragraph 1.

(4) Catechism of the Catholic Church: With modifications from the Editio Typica. (2003). New York: Doubleday. Paragraph 386. 

(5) Catechism of the Catholic Church: With modifications from the Editio Typica. (2003). New York: Doubleday. Paragraph 2094. 

(6) Revelation 3:15-16. 

(7) Mark 9:48. 

Image:

(1) Two Rabbits by David D. Coninck. Obtained via https://fineartamerica.com/featured/two-rabbits-david-de-coninck.html. 

You are not alone … Peace Be With You

Shortly after Easter, this year, I attended the funeral of the young daughter of friends.  Arriving early before Mass began, I recalled the untimely death of another young person.  Not that long ago, Ryan ended his own life.  Lacking confidence, the least of stature, by far in physical ability and natural athletic talent of three brothers, this short, lanky hurler learned, trained, overcame long odds, and became an all-conference quarterback.  Ryan led a Patriot aerial attack at Parkway South to its first undefeated regular season to the State semifinals which included an upset victory over consecutive State champions, Jefferson City. 

I’d coached Ryan for four years.  As this season ended, I knew I was going to miss looking into Ryan’s determined, spirited eyes beneath his cockeyed helmet and delivering instructions.  He traveled to college.  He grew in size.  He admitted he’d fallen in with the wrong crowd and began using drugs.  He failed several classes eventually dropping out of school. But these were symptoms not the problem.  I assisted him in getting counseling, getting re-enrolled in junior college, and in joining an on-campus Bible study. (He enjoyed our Fellowship of Christian Athletes group while attending South.)  Periodically, Ryan dropped by South and we’d visit over lunch or in the late afternoon following classes. 

However, over the course of two more years, Ryan disconnected from counselors, dropped classes; the drug use and Bible study continued.  Occasionally over lunch, he’d share the shame he felt, falling from where he’d been as an exceptional football player.  We shared stories from scriptures he’d independently study and question.  We’d try to disarm the harsh realities of life wearing his faith away.  Internally, Ryan was at war.  “Where is God?  I don’t get God.  Does He even care?” Ryan questioned among his anxieties. 

Months passed.  I had difficulty reaching him.  Ryan ended his life.  His parents asked that I write and deliver Ryan’s eulogy.  I had plenty to share of Ryan’s goodness and spirit.  But what I wanted Ryan to know was “God does care.  God is with you, always.”  Even so, doubt entered my heart and mind.  I along with family and friends desired something tangible, something we could visualize, grasp.  Our worlds crumbled.  We, too, asked the same questions Ryan asked. 

During this Easter funeral, I along with family and friends, once again, desire something we could see, grasp.  Fr. Stanger offered perspective and imagery during his homily that I wish I had had years earlier.  His references offered profound clarity.  And though I don’t know if they would have made a difference in Ryan’s life at the time, I am confident Ryan knows now!

Fr. Stanger referenced a popular painting composed by William Hunt hanging in St. Paul’s Cathedral in London.  Art historians* think it may be the most traveled work of art in history.  It has influenced cultures for generations.  In darkness, Jesus, having no means to enter, lifts a lantern outside a door without a knob or handle.  We know not the time or the place.  It is implied we are responsible for opening our door to Jesus for he has no way of opening it.  Otherwise, we remain alone leaving Jesus locked out.  This is not an absolute; as Fr. Stanger went on to explain.  Sometimes individuals just can’t or are not able to open the door. 

  Pain and struggles of depression, unworthiness, despair, addiction, sin, shame, arrogance, isolation, alienation, betrayal, mental illness; all make opening the door impossible or nearly so.

On the evening of that first day of the week, even though the disciples had locked the doors of the place where they were for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood before them.  “Peace be with you,” he said.  When he had said this, he showed them his hands and his side.  At the sight of the Lord, the disciples rejoiced.  “Peace be with you,” he said again.  (John 20: 19-21)

After all the turmoil, alienation, suffering, unrest, Jesus offers peace first.  Jesus then encounters Thomas.  Jesus comes to meet Thomas where he is, filled with fear and doubt. Jesus shares his most intimate wounds inviting Thomas to touch and to be touched.  Don’t we all want proof?   Don’t we all want Christ Jesus to walk through our walls to our hearts and minds?

            I picture Ryan huddled shivering against a wall of despair, helpless.  Jesus walks through the barriers of his life.  On bended knee, Jesus, hand outstretched, erases the tears of a fear filled Ryan.  Jesus does and will walk through the hardness of heart and mind even when those in relentless pain cannot open their own.  Ryan’s parents and friends needed to hear this.  I needed to hear this.  Jesus never gives up on us!!!  He went on to forgive his disciples who fled him.  Humbled they received His gift of the Holy Spirit.

Peace be with you!

**  In my research -- William Hunt painted the Light of the World, Jesus carrying the lantern, twice.  The initial painting (1850-53) is small and is displayed in Keble College, Oxford.  While losing sight from glaucoma, Hunt persevered to paint a much larger version, a copy.  Through 1900-1904 with the assistance of another painter, Edward Hughes, William Hunt completed the famous painting displayed at St. Paul’s Cathedral.  This larger painting was exhibited throughout the world over time.  Art historians think it is the most traveled work of art in history.  It has profoundly influenced many generations of viewers.  I am grateful for Fr. Stanger’s reference to it.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Light_of_the_World_(painting) 

https://www.stpauls.co.uk/history-collections/the-collections/collections-highlights/the-light-of-the-world

Into The Light

Dawn doesn’t break in the Missouri woods.  It trickles in.  It hints.  It surprises.

Last year I revealed the secret of a private backpacking retreat I have taken every Good Friday for many years.  In that blog I posted my memories and expectations for that upcoming retreat on the Monday of Holy Week.  (Link to last year’s blog Into The Dark.)  This year, I am already a few weeks beyond my trek and write to you of my insight and experiences as we are in the midst of the Easter Season.

I spent Good Friday night in a hammock on the southern slope of a wooded Missouri hill.  My view faced east so you might imagine that I was awakened by the breaking sun as it exploded over the horizon.  That was not the case.  What I was awakened by were birds.  A beautiful, changing melody that began when the first songbirds caught a glimpse of the warming rays trickling in.  From their high perches they saw the light before I, and announced the impending dawn.

Actually, I was awakened around 2 AM from the sound of grunting and sniffing around my hammock.  The moon was full, which is a given when you camp around Easter, so it was brighter at that moment than it had been when I set up camp in the evening.  The animal stayed just behind me, out of view, so I can’t be certain what it was.  Based on the size and the sound, it was either a deer, or a bear.  My experience tells me it was a doe trying to figure out what I was and giving a warning.  Although unlikely, it would be a lot cooler if it was a bear.  For the purposes of this story, I’ll tell you I was almost eaten in the middle of the night by a bear.

Moving forward a few hours, I continued to listen to chorus after chorus of different birds.  They sang to each other, celebrated the coming warmth, and gave glory to God, each from their own abilities.  It was a noise you’d like to muzzle when heard outside your bedroom window, but here, it was a symphony.  The few, fluffy clouds above me began to shine bright white.  A hilltop situated between the valley in view in the distance to my right, began to turn from gray to full color on its Eastern face.  The tops of the trees above me and all around had their highest tips glow green, and the bright green trickled its way down to lower and lower branches.  Soon the sky was fully lit, the trees glowed colorful and alive to a point just slightly above me, and only the valleys stayed in shadow.  Last, I heard the turkeys.  From their lower roosts they gobbled a song that only a mother turkey could love.  But with absolute gusto and confident gobbles, they announced the coming sun.  The same sun that all around them had already known for the past hour.

Finally, after the day was already here, a few rays trickled through the trees over a nearby hill.  More and more rays fought through the branches, hinting at what was to come.  And then, even though every plant and animal…even the turkeys…knew what was coming, the circle of light still surprised in its fullness.

Jesus has arisen.  Our Savior has come.  Rejoice!

Many spend Lent in preparation.  Through prayer and fasting we internalize much of our work and focus on faithful improvements to ourselves.  The days following Easter are a celebration.  All should be invited to this Easter feast.

Blessings to all who joined the Church at Easter.  If you know someone who still hasn’t completed, or even started, their journey to God, don’t give up on them.  Most people do not experience an awakening of faith like that of St. Paul’s.  The spirit doesn’t often break like the dawn we see in movies.  For many of us, it trickled in.  It hinted.  And finally, it surprised.

Don’t give up on family and friends who may have turned away, or who may not even have started their journey.  Everything is in God’s time, but even if it feels like they are so far away, the time we’ve been awaiting can come and surprise.

Be a beacon for others.  You might not be a glowing treetop that all can see, but perhaps that is what you are called to be.  Many of us are simple glimpses of bright areas.  Even if we seem far in the distance, our simple acts of goodness may be seen by unknown others around us, who need something good to focus on beyond the valley of shadows.  Sometimes there are amazing things growing brighter all around us, but we are the last ones to see them.  Eventually, with God’s grace, the Truth will hit us.  Or Truth will hit the people we are praying for.  When it does, they will gobble in praise, and then the fullness of God’s love will burst forth and glow even brighter.  The hills and trees around will be awarded with the same warmth back at them, that they had been displaying already.  And the birds of the heavens will sing joyous praise for the one who was low, but is now in the light.

Even if you stumble around, grunting, noisily in the darkness, continue to do it with love.  With the gentleness of a doe, continue to pray for and act kindly to those around you.  You may be the only one keeping the bear at bay, who would come to devour a soul.

Happy Easter!

By: Matt Buehrig

Inspired by: Birds and Trees and Bears (and my wife who lets me escape into the woods)

Throwing Stones

Since the fall of man, there has been plenty of examples of folks making bad choices.  Pride, greed, lust, pick your sin. It poisons our decisions and the consequences are grave. If you look in the news, there is plenty of scandal resulting from these bad choices.  Unfortunately, the Catholic Church and even our Holy Infant community are not immune to these headlines.  

I can’t help but notice, that when we see someone fall, there is something inside of us that gets excited.  For some reason, we all seem to love to see someone fail.  A text goes out, or a call is made, “Did you hear about so and so?  Can you believe it?......”  As we organize into our outraged mob, we point to the travesty and judge their actions. I wonder if one of the reasons we secretly enjoy these shortcomings in others, is that it makes us feel a little bit better about ourselves.  The bar is somewhat lowered for us so we can say, “Well at least I don’t do THAT!”

Venting disgust as a group onto one person creates a sense of unity and togetherness.  However, it’s always a false, unstable unity because it’s predicated on the verbal violence of gossip.  The phony community of the group is founded upon a victim.   Don’t you always wonder when you leave the group, if you will be the next person they talk about?

I wonder…is this kind of scapegoating and gossiping good for us? Is this the reaction we should have? Is God on our side as we point out with holy anger the sinfulness of others?  

My mind is drawn to the woman at the well in John chapter 8.  A woman who committed adultery is brought to Jesus by the scribes.  Imagine the length they had to go to in order to catch her in the very act.  There is a deep hunger and need to find a scapegoat, and it’s amazing the lengths we will go to find someone to blame.  A gathering force like a storm begins to swell as they draw into their circle more “blamers”.  They seek immediately a religious sanction and come to the Jesus.  “The law of Moses says we are justified in stoning this woman, what do you say?"  The scapegoat is usually backed up by a sacred violence. God approves of it.  

Notice what Jesus does first.  This is a great guide for all of us on how to handle gossip.  He does nothing.  He does not engage them or answer the question posed.  He bends down and begins to write in the sand.  Sometimes the best thing you can do, is nothing - just refuse to contribute to it.

The church fathers say he was writing into the ground the sins of the people who were holding stones.  Jesus then rises and delivers his famous words, “Let he without sin, be the first to cast a stone.”  

He has taken the outward violence of the group and transforms them to look inward.  What started as shaking a finger in judgement at the woman, now the people are faced with their own shortcomings and dysfunction.  Next time you find yourself being drawn into the dynamic power of a mob, imagine Jesus writing in the ground your worse sin.  All of a sudden, it’s not so easy to throw a stone.

Christ himself was the victim of a scapegoating crowd.  They gathered in force and excitement yelling CRUCIFY HIM! I always feel uncomfortable reciting those words on Good Friday.  Jesus came to show that God does not sanction violence, but rather God stands with the victim.   In that, a new world is born.  A world predicated on compassion, mercy, and non-violence.  

I see someone in the news who embezzled money.  I’m outraged.  But I then ask myself, have I ever made a bad moral choice due to greed?   I hear about cases of sexual abuse and I’m disgusted and demand justice.  But for a moment, if I set my pitchfork and torch down, I hear a voice ask, “Has lust ever corrupted your heart?”

I’m not suggesting that we accept sin, or look the other way.  People should be held accountable for their actions, which happens in a just society, or with our souls at the final judgement. My challenge to all of us is when we hear of something scandalous, and the gossip circle starts to form....STOP.  Don’t join in.  You’ll see the disappointment immediately from the person who is wanting to gossip with you.  Think to yourself - “There, but for the grace of God goes I.”  And finally, look at one of our fallen brothers or sisters and say, “Where are they?  Is there no one left to condemn you?  Then nor do I condemn you.  Go and sin no more.”