Four Questions

Here is a meme that St. Ignatius of Loyola started. In his Spiritual Exercises, St. Ignatius wrote that four questions must be asked of any leader that one chooses to follow. The same is true of Jesus Christ.

1. Who is Jesus for me?
He is “the way, the truth, and the life”, the source of love, peace, and energy.

When Jesus went into the region of Caesarea Philippi he asked his disciples, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” They replied, “Some say John the Baptist, others Elijah, still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.” He said to them, “But who do you say that I am?” Simon Peter said in reply, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” Jesus said to him in reply, “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah. For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my heavenly Father. And so I say to you, you are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it. I will give you the keys to the kingdom of heaven. Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven; and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.” Then he strictly ordered his disciples to tell no one that he was the Messiah. (Matthew 16:13-20)

2. What is Jesus’ cause?
To die for me so that I may be reconciled, redeemed, and liberated—to live as His brother as an adopted son of God!

From that time on, Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer greatly from the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed and on the third day be raised. Then Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him, “God forbid, Lord! No such thing shall ever happen to you.” He turned and said to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan! You are an obstacle to me. You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do.” (Matthew 16:21-23)

3. Jesus’ expectations of me?
To not hold on to the gifts of the Father, but to share and reflect His love, peace, and energy to all, with joy and gratitude through all the success and failure, happiness and sorrow in my life.

Then Jesus said to his disciples, “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. What profit would there be for one to gain the whole world and forfeit his life? Or what can one give in exchange for his life? For the Son of Man will come with his angels in his Father’s glory, and then he will repay everyone according to his conduct. Amen, I say to you, there are some standing here who will not taste death until they see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom.” (Matthew 16:24-28)

4. What can I expect?
To be with Him (that’s all I want, or at least hope to want).

After six days Jesus took Peter, James, and John his brother, and led them up a high mountain by themselves. And he was transfigured before them; his face shone like the sun and his clothes became white as light. And behold, Moses and Elijah appeared to them, conversing with him. Then Peter said to Jesus in reply, “Lord, it is good that we are here. If you wish, I will make three tents here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” While he was still speaking, behold, a bright cloud cast a shadow over them, then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him.” When the disciples heard this, they fell prostrate and were very much afraid. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Rise, and do not be afraid.” And when the disciples raised their eyes, they saw no one else but Jesus alone. (Matthew 17:1-8)

I tag anyone interested. Write your own answers and/or quote scripture.

The Shadow of Death

[image: 'The Shadow of Death' by William Holman Hunt]
The Shadow of Death, by William Holman Hunt, 1873

Lent ends with the Easter Triduum—Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter. The whole life of Jesus leads to the Cross. This painting reminds me of that in a poignant and real personal way that only art can sometimes do.

Some items to take note in this painting (See a larger image):

The woman is implied to be Mary, his mother. She has caught a glimpse of the shadow on the wall and paused her search within the chest. Is she contemplating the foreshadowing of her son’s crucifixion? Is she remembering what Simeon said to her and Joseph when they presented her baby in the temple?

The fine linen in the lower left draws the eye up to Mary’s hand on the chest. Are those the gifts of the Magi inside? She knew the prophecy that her son would be king, and she is looking at the gifts for a king, but the juxaposition of the shadow of death and suffering—is she recalling the servant songs in Isaiah? Is she recalling the words of her Magnificat?

The Christmas Star, not a Star of David, is above the pillar between the windows, a reminder of his name Emmanuel, “God with us.”

See how the window creates a nimbus or halo effect around his head.

The pomegranates on the right side, just below the window. Pomegranates are often depicted in images of Jesus and Mary.

Next to the pomegranate is the scroll with Isaiah’s prophecy. It is also an allusion of Christ as the Word of God.

I wonder if the tree in the window is an olive, fig, or pomegranate tree?

Are the spindles in the window an allusion to the pillars in the Temple in Jerusalem?

In the lower right-hand corner, at the foot of the sawhorse lies a scarlet fillet that is part of Christ’s head-gear. Foreshadowing the crown of thorns?

The reeds and cane in the corner on the left.

Within the shadow on the wall, the loop around his neck alludes to images of the brazen serpent that Moses held up to heal the Israelites.

The curls of wood shavings appear as a snake with its head being crushed under his right foot, victory over sin and death.

The Headlights

The long desert road stretched endlessly to the horizon, following the contour of the gently, low rolling hills, merging into the infinite of nothingness. The evening sun was no longer hot enough to create heat waves that would shimmer over the blacktop of the road, creating vanishing mirages of water puddles in the middle of nowhere. The old beat up silver Ford van I was driving continued to speed off into the dusk.
My friend was sitting in the passenger seat next to me. He was wearing blue jeans, a white t-shirt and sandals. He looked relaxed with his right arm leaning out the side window as the cool evening wind gently tossed about his long, brown, curly hair. Once at a roadside stop, I had asked my friend if he would drive, but he said no, not yet. I wasn’t ready for him to drive. I was tried of driving. I wasn’t sure where we were going, or even how to get there. I thought I knew the way at one point in my life, but events proved me wrong. Somehow I knew that he knew the way.
When we would come upon a crossroad or fork in the road, I would pause and look in his direction, then he would say go this way, or point that way. He never forced his directions. He always waited for me to turn to him.
Evening turned into night and small talk turned into comfortable silence as the sun disappeared over the horizon, pulling behind it across the sky a black blanket covered with billions of brilliant, tiny points of light. Darkness enveloped the desert. Only the headlights of the van pierced the darkness for a short distance ahead. The miles rolled on.
In the stillness of the dark, over the soft hum of the engine, my friend turned to me and broke the silence. He asked, “Do you trust me?”
I instantly nodded in agreement. In the next instant, it occurred to me that maybe he could not see my nod in the soft, warm glow of the dashboard lights. I quickly followed with a simple, “Yes.”
“Do you really trust me?”
“Yes, I do.”
He paused for the briefest of moments. “Are you sure? Do you trust me with your whole heart?”
I could not see his eyes directly, but I knew he was looking at me. A little agitated that he repeated his question for a third time, I replied, “Yes. I’m pretty sure that I do.” I hesitated for moment, “Why do you ask?”
“I would like you to do something,” my friend replied, “but you’ll have to trust me completely. No half measures.”
A small pit of anxiety rose in my stomach and began slowly spreading its poison through out my body. It was robbing me of peace I had found along this journey. Yes, I think I trusted him completely. I had never trusted a friend like him before. He had never really let me down. I wonder what he wants me to do? I stared at the road passing below the headlights for the moment, trying to push the anxiety away. I finally replied, “Okay.”
He said, “I want you to turn the headlights off.”
Did I hear that right?! How would I see where I was going? We would drive right off the road and get suck in the sand and dirt. We could even crash into a rock or something. I don’t know. This is pretty far out there on the trust factor.
I asked, “Did I hear you right? The headlights…off?”
“Yes,” he calmly answered. “I want you to turn the headlights off.”
“While I’m driving?”
“Yes.”
There had to be a good reason for this. “Why?”
“Just because,” he said.
“Mmm?”
“Just because I asked you to,” my friend repeated as matter of factly.
“But how will I see where to go?” I asked, hoping the sudden sense of doubt didn’t show in my voice.
“I will tell you where to go.”
Oh man! What am I getting myself into here? I asked another question, “How will you see where I need to go?”
My friend calmly repeated, “Do you trust me?”
I was taken aback by the request. All I could do was sit there in stunned silence and drive. I stared down at the headlights on the road, the miles rolling by. The desert was dark. No other lights were around except for the stars and the headlights of the van. How would he see? How would I see? This is scary. I searched my heart for any cracks in my trust. I found myself standing at the bottom of the Grand Canyon. Do I really trust my friend?
Sensing my emotions, my friend said, “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
After a couple miles of silence, I looked at my friend. I could see his silhouette in the dashboard lights. He was calm and relaxed, at peace in the night.
As I reached for the headlight switch, I said, “Okay. I don’t understand, but I do trust you.”
Darkness enveloped us.
I could see nothing except the pin pricks of starlight in the sky and the rough silhouette of the desert horizon off in the distance. The soft hum of the engine faded into the stillness and quiet, into the darkness of unknowing.
Somehow, I knew all would be well.

Go

By grace of God, I am what I am. (1 Corinthians 15:10)

Reflection. These words of St. Paul seem to be filled with pride and presumption but they are really the fruit of humility for humility is truth.

Humility does not deny one’s value or achievements but gives all credit for them to God.

Prayer. God of goodness, what would I be without You? Be near me that I may not abuse Your gifts. Let me always show my gratitude for them by leading a Christian life.

— Today’s reading from Minute Meditations for Each Day

This “minute meditation” includes a wonderful, little definition for humility—to give credit for all our gifts to God. It also points one way, maybe the most important way, of showing our gratitude to God for all His gifts, that is, to live a Christian life.

My school has been doing Lenten devotions after school. Each week is a different theme. This week is Lecto Divina and I have had the honor of leading them. Yesterday’s reading was about the cleansing of the ten lepers. In Lecto Divina, the idea is to read a short passage of scripture and let a word or phrase catch your attention. Lecto Divina is not scripture study. It is a form of prayerful meditation where you literally try to let go and let God lead you to something. The hard part for somebody like me is not to analyze the passage, but to let if flow over me, to float on God’s Word and to “be still” and listen.

I once read that a passage of scripture you read in Lecto Divina can be liken to being in a dark room. There are many doors in this room, but God wants you to walk through a particular one at this particular moment in your life. So, how do you find your door? As you read the words from scripture, it is like following your way along the walls of this dark room, feeling for the edges of the door. When your attention becomes focused on a word or phrase, you have found your door. Now, you have to find the doorknob. Slowly, or quickly, depending on how God wants to gift you, you dwell on your word or phrase and the doorknob is discovered. It may take deeper probing and letting go, but eventually the door will open, and you step through to something meant for you to learn.

(Note: Not every session of Lecto Divina will yield results. You have to let go and trust God that on some days, He will feed you the sweet fruit of consolation. It is up to God, not you. Don’t force anything. Persevere.)

In yesterday’s passage, I got caught on the phrase, “Stand up and go”. The one leper had came back to give thanks. I want to give thanks too. I want to be with Jesus, and I suspect the leper did too. But Jesus is saying, “Go.” Go where?

The world says that I am free when I do what I want, not what God wants. This of course leads to sin, which in reality restricts my freedom and binds me to my disordered desires and attachments. When I turn back to God, my sins are forgiven and I am now free. My desires become a little more ordered and my attachments are loosened. True freedom lies in God, not myself. So, at this point time, I hear the word “go” and know that I am free.

But there is also a deeper implication in this simple directive of “go.” How many times in the Gospels did Jesus forgive someone and then tell them to go, as in “go and sin no more”? He is telling me I am free in Him. He is also saying “do not be afraid,” go confidently into the world because He will always be with me. If I am in Him, He is in me.

So, go…

Love and do as you will. — St. Augustine