deacon's corner

Within every caterpillar lies a butterfly, a creature whose beauty far surpasses the life that dies so that it may endow the earth with a singular moment of wonder and awe. Bertrand Russell wrote that an honest philosophy could not reasonably deny that “no fire, no heroism, no intensity of thought and feeling can preserve an individual life beyond the grave. All the labors of the ages, all the devotion, all the inspiration, all the noonday brightness of human genius are destined to extinction in the vast death of the solar system.” Obviously, he failed to see the butterfly within, the soul which is the image of God; like a man who has the gift of sight but chooses to be blinded so he can avoid the inevitable truth that comes with the light of day.

When the apostles heard that James and John had requested places of honor beside Jesus in his glory they became indignant but Jesus said to them “You know that those who are recognized as rulers over the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones make their authority over them felt. But it shall not be so among you. Rather, whoever wishes to be great among you will be your servant; whoever wishes to be first among you will be the slave of all. For the Son of Man did not come to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many” [Mk 10:42-45].

John Kirvan wrote in Silent Hope “…it is God all the way to God. God doesn’t stand waiting for us till we reach the heights. God is no less present to us beginners on the first day of our journey than he is to those whose journey has brought them to the soul’s highest possibilities.”

One of the most memorable and often quoted lines from the movie Forrest Gump is “My momma always said ‘Life is like a box of chocolates … you never know what you’re going to get.’” There is truth within this metaphor that goes beyond the fact that we cannot foresee what lies ahead in life. There is much more that lies beyond our poor abilities to sense, to feel, to see, and to understand. What lies within the soul is forever hidden from human eyes, but God sees, God knows, and He loves you anyway.

I cannot recall the first time I heard God’s voice, just as no one ever remembers the moment of their birth. At birth, the cognitive abilities that will increase as we age are primitive, sufficient only to support life. Yet, within moments, we are capable of reacting to external stimuli; we recognize a loving embrace, we hear a soothing voice and we smile. Instinctively we know love even though we have no true understanding of its meaning. Comprehension and understanding are beyond the newness of our minds, beyond our capacity to know. It is a mystery, a truth so big it cannot be exhausted in the knowing.

During a recent interview, Pope Francis said “Without an abiding relationship with God, it is difficult to live an authentic and consistent Christian life.” This statement calls us to consider two important thoughts, one profoundly theological and the other deeply personal.

If you wish to hear God’s voice, you must listen with all your heart, mind, and soul. This calls for us to take the first step by preparing ourselves to hear His voice by entering a place of silence, solitude, and stillness. For each of us that place will be different and at times difficult to reach.

In Psalm 46, the Lord says “Be still and know that I am God.” It is important to note that God doesn’t tell us to “be silent” but quite emphatically commands us to “be still” and there is an enormous difference. ‘Silence’ is defined as the forbearance from speech or noise, the absence of sound or noise while ‘Stillness’ is described as a state of tranquility or an instance of being quiet or calm, the absence of sound or noise, or the absence of motion or disturbance.

We have been created by a silent all-knowing God, an unknowable Creator who loves us beyond all knowing. For us to be in an intimate relationship with Him we must be still, we must be silent, most of all we must have love, for as St. Paul says “If I speak in human and angelic tongues but do not have love, I am a resounding gong or a clashing cymbal” [1 Cor 13:1].

At a recent prayer service two people rose to speak of their personal journey of faith. The first said that there came a moment in his youth, upon hearing church bells one day, when he realized that his faith and his life were one. His faith was his life and his life was his faith, there was no separation or distinction between the two.  From this statement we should consider the depth and limits of our own faith. Do we live every moment of our lives with faith, in faith, and for our faith? Do we truly live what we believe? Do we live as we believe and believe as we live? As we go about our daily lives, doing ordinary and, at times, extraordinary things, is our faith front and center, out there for everyone to see?