Tag Archives: hope

Good Friday – trust that we are loved in our weakness

Listen to the actual homily:

Transcript:

“At the foot of the cross, at the supreme hour of the new creation, Christ led us to Mary. He brought us to her because he did not want us to journey without a mother” (Pope Francis, Evangelii Gaudium #285)

Why do we need a mother?

She is the one who teaches us to trust that we are loved in our weakness. To trust in love even when we are weak. This is the wealth that Jesus wants us to have. To trust that we are loved in our weakness. This is the wealth that exposes the bankruptcy of Satan’s lies. It is the currency of heaven. It is the power that can topple the kingdom of darkness and it transfers us to the kingdom of light: unwavering trust that we are loved in the midst of our weakness.

Saint Paul told us that Christ became poor that we might become rich (2 Cor 8:9). Pope Francis explained that the richness Christ gives us, the wealth that He shares with us is “His boundless confidence in God the Father, his constant trust…”. He said, “Jesus is rich in the same way as a child who feels love and who loves its parents, without doubting their love and tenderness for an instant.” (Pope Francis Message for Lent 2014)

Jesus waged war on the Enemy
In the hands of one who trusts like that, weakness becomes a weapon. The weapon of weakness defeats the power of Satan. It is the story of the Gospel. From the beginning of his public ministry when Jesus faced off with Satan by charging out into the desert, which was Satan’s own backyard, he wielded the weapons of human weakness: Hunger, helplessness, powerlessness…and despite Satan’s temptations, He did not grasp at divine power to save Himself, but He simply remained human, weak and TRUSTING. He used the wealth of His boundless trust in God the Father to buy us back from our slavery. And in so doing He brought that wealth to us. He brought us trust that we are still loved when we are hungry, when we are helpless, when we are powerless. He taught us to make our weakness a weapon against Satan by remaining weak but also trusting in divine love, rather than grasping at worldly power. Satan departed from him for a time, but we read today about the final face off…

In the Passion of Jesus, He wields again the weapons of weakness and He shares with us the wealth of his trust, His boundless confidence in the Father’s love. In His human weakness, He experiences betrayal, abandonment, helplessness, defenselessness. He is interrogated, ridiculed, labeled, bullied, beaten, stripped naked, drugged, immobilized, crushed and crucified. His heart swelled, His lungs collapsed, His hands were nailed, His tender skull pierced with thorns.

His weakness is so extreme we could say He is reduced to the state of a child, even an infant. He has no defenses, no worldly power. Like Frodo in the Lord of the Rings, He has lost all His friends with their swords and shields. He has only His Mother, His faithful Samwise who loves Him as He carries His burden. She is no earthly soldier, she is only armed with compassion and love. And she will never leave His side. She helps him to keep trusting that He is loved in His weakness. She is an abiding sign of the Father’s tenderness. We need those tangible human signs.

All the while, Jesus is spreading His wealth to the weak and the poor. As He touches our weakness, He holds out His trust and He points our hearts to the Father’s love. We are still loved. He looks on us with love. He gives us His Mother’s Heart and her compassion and love. We only have to let go of our defenses: our violence and passive aggression, our complaining, the tombs of fear that we hide in, our achievements and trophies, domination and manipulation, threats and cursing, greed and gluttony, our rivalries and comparisons, arrogance, pride, vanity, cynicism, sarcasm and hopelessness, our lusts and empty entertainments that dull our hearts as we escape into fantasies. We use all these to cover up weakness, but they only form a cyst around it. Our weakness never goes away. For some who hide it their whole lives, it only reappears at the end when in debilitating disease and death we have no other defenses left. The only way out is to trust enough to expose it, and to discover we are still loved in it.

In His Passion Jesus fervently pursues us. By embracing our weakness He seeks out and finds the lost sheep in us, a little sheep that is lost and frightened behind all our defenses. And He shares His treasure with us — boundless confidence in the Father’s love.

He even enters into our deepest agony, our most anguished cries, “My God, my God why have you abandoned me??” He gives us permission to cry out like this. The weak, hurting child in us needs to cry out, because the very fact of crying out is itself an act of hope. This cry is not an expression of despair but is filled with trust in God the Father. If he had no trust that He would be heard, He would never have cried out. Satan wields fear and pride to convince us to keep our cries to ourselves, but Jesus teaches us to cry out like a little child and to discover that our Father DOES hear us…and He still loves us. Later in the same psalm 22 he affirms

“… Give him praise … For he has never despised nor scorned the poverty of the poor.
From him he has not hidden his face, but he heard him whenever he cried.”
Jesus affirms our urge to cry out. It is an act of trust that we are loved in the midst of our weakness.

The victory of vulnerability

Finally, in the end, Jesus wins the victory of vulnerability. Vulnerability is another word for opening our hearts in trust when we feel so weak. In His last breath, Jesus shows us the victory of vulnerability. He dealt the final blow to Satan by embracing our greatest weakness—death. Even in death He trusted, “Into your hands, Father, I commend my spirit” and He declared victory, “It is finished…”. Like Frodo, He carried the burden of our weakness all the way into the pits of evil without ever letting go of trust in His Father’s love.

Now it is our turn to learn this trust, to collect the wealth Christ has left us, to learn the weapons of weakness and the victory of vulnerability. For this, He gave us His Mother. He says to us, “Behold your mother.” And we are invited to take her into the deepest center of our lives and learn trust from her.

That’s how it began with His disciples. After the crucifixion she taught them to hope. The Gospel tells us, “The sabbath was about to begin…” After the darkest night and the deep silence of the death of God, a light appeared in the windows of Jerusalem. First one and then another. In each household, the mother of the household lit a candle and prayed, “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has sanctified us through Your commandment and commanded us to kindle the Sabbath candles.” Even from the devastating weakness of darkness, death, silence and night, Mary lit the Sabbath candles and led her new little son John in prayer, teaching him to trust that he was loved in the midst of his weakness. The sky was still dark and Jesus was still in the tomb, but our Mother taught her little son to hope that love is stronger than death and goodness is stronger than hate and that he is still loved in the helplessness of Good Friday. She passed on to him and she passes on to us the wealth that Christ brought us—to trust that we are loved in the depths of our weakness.

Emptying ourselves Day 12 – The great hope: love redeems us

Day 12 – The great hope: Love redeems us

A Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul to the Romans:

We know that in everything God works for good with those who love him, who are called according to his purpose. … Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? As it is written, “For your sake we are being killed all the day long; we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.” No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Rom 8:28;35-39)

From Pope Benedict XVI’s encyclical Saved in Hope (Spe Salvi):

Francis Bacon and those who followed in the intellectual current of modernity that he inspired were wrong to believe that man would be redeemed through science. Such an expectation asks too much of science; this kind of hope is deceptive. Science can contribute greatly to making the world and mankind more human. Yet it can also destroy mankind and the world unless it is steered by forces that lie outside it. On the other hand, we must also acknowledge that modern Christianity, faced with the successes of science in progressively structuring the world, has to a large extent restricted its attention to the individual and his salvation. In so doing it has limited the horizon of its hope and has failed to recognize sufficiently the greatness of its task—even if it has continued to achieve great things in the formation of man and in care for the weak and the suffering.

It is not science that redeems man: man is redeemed by love. This applies even in terms of this present world. When someone has the experience of a great love in his life, this is a moment of “redemption” which gives a new meaning to his life. But soon he will also realize that the love bestowed upon him cannot by itself resolve the question of his life. It is a love that remains fragile. It can be destroyed by death. The human being needs unconditional love. He needs the certainty which makes him say: “neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Rom 8:38-39). If this absolute love exists, with its absolute certainty, then—only then—is man “redeemed”, whatever should happen to him in his particular circumstances. This is what it means to say: Jesus Christ has “redeemed” us. Through him we have become certain of God, a God who is not a remote “first cause” of the world, because his only-begotten Son has become man and of him everyone can say: “I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me” (Gal 2:20).

In this sense it is true that anyone who does not know God, even though he may entertain all kinds of hopes, is ultimately without hope, without the great hope that sustains the whole of life (cf. Eph 2:12). Man’s great, true hope which holds firm in spite of all disappointments can only be God—God who has loved us and who continues to love us “to the end,” until all “is accomplished” (cf. Jn 13:1 and 19:30). Whoever is moved by love begins to perceive what “life” really is.

Reflection:

Do I ask too much of science? Do I place too much hope in medicine and technology? Have I experienced a moment of redemption through a great love in my life? Have I experienced also the fragility of this love? Do I believe in an absolute love that is not threatened by death, namely the love of God revealed in Christ Jesus?

I can learn the unconditional love of God revealed in Jesus Christ by being pressed up against Him as His twin in the womb of Mary. As much as I face uncertainties in life, I do not face them alone. As much as I struggle with suffering and groan for redemption, I know that I am only going through preparation for birth and Christ is with me and goes before me as the first-born. No baby is stillborn from the womb of Mary.

Prayers:

Veni Sancte Spiritus

Ave Maris Stella or Sub Tuum Praesidium

Litany of Penance or Radiating Christ

Prayer of Entrustment to the Womb of Mary

Emptying ourselves Day 9 – Hope in suffering

Day 9 – Hope in suffering

From Pope Benedict XVI’s encyclical Spe Salvi #39:

To suffer with the other and for others; to suffer for the sake of truth and justice; to suffer out of love and in order to become a person who truly loves—these are fundamental elements of humanity, and to abandon them would destroy man himself. Yet once again the question arises: are we capable of this? Is the other important enough to warrant my becoming, on his account, a person who suffers? Does truth matter to me enough to make suffering worthwhile? Is the promise of love so great that it justifies the gift of myself? In the history of humanity, it was the Christian faith that had the particular merit of bringing forth within man a new and deeper capacity for these kinds of suffering that are decisive for his humanity. The Christian faith has shown us that truth, justice and love are not simply ideals, but enormously weighty realities. It has shown us that God —Truth and Love in person— desired to suffer for us and with us. Bernard of Clairvaux coined the marvellous expression: Impassibilis est Deus, sed non incompassibilis—God cannot suffer, but he can suffer with. Man is worth so much to God that he himself became man in order to suffer with man in an utterly real way—in flesh and blood—as is revealed to us in the account of Jesus’s Passion. Hence in all human suffering we are joined by one who experiences and carries that suffering with us; hence con-solatio is present in all suffering, the consolation of God’s compassionate love—and so the star of hope rises. Certainly, in our many different sufferings and trials we always need the lesser and greater hopes too—a kind visit, the healing of internal and external wounds, a favourable resolution of a crisis, and so on. In our lesser trials these kinds of hope may even be sufficient. But in truly great trials, where I must make a definitive decision to place the truth before my own welfare, career and possessions, I need the certitude of that true, great hope of which we have spoken here. For this too we need witnesses—martyrs—who have given themselves totally, so as to show us the way— day after day. We need them if we are to prefer goodness to comfort, even in the little choices we face each day—knowing that this is how we live life to the full. Let us say it once again: the capacity to suffer for the sake of the truth is the measure of humanity. Yet this capacity to suffer depends on the type and extent of the hope that we bear within us and build upon. The saints were able to make the great journey of human existence in the way that Christ had done before them, because they were brimming with great hope.

Reflection:

In our humanity, apart from God, solitude becomes like a tomb for us where there are dead and dying things. But as Christ enters into our solitude it becomes like a womb for us, where we are little and loved and there is life and growth. In this way, every suffering, every threat, every difficulty becomes only a reminder that I am in the womb of Mary, with Jesus. As things become more intense and the pressure increases, it is only because I am growing and drawing closer to birth, which is a victorious emergence into Eternal Life.

Do I have the certitude of the great hope that will not fail—Jesus Christ? Do I find strength in that hope even to suffer for the sake of truth and for the sake of others? Let us reflect on the little hopes and the great hope in our lives and then make an act of hope:

O my God, relying on Your almighty power and infinite mercy and promises, I hope to obtain pardon of my sins, the help of Your grace and life everlasting, through the merits of Jesus Christ, my Lord and Redeemer. Amen.

Prayers:

Veni Sancte Spiritus

Ave Maris Stella or Sub Tuum Praesidium

Litany of Penance or Radiating Christ

Prayer of Entrustment to the Womb of Mary