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Day 28 Knowledge of Jesus Christ – Christ became poor

Day 28 – Christ became poor

A Reading from the Second Letter of Saint Paul to the Corinthians:

For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that by his poverty you might become rich. (2 Cor 8:9)

From Pope Francis’s Message for Lent 2014:

[Christ] does not reveal himself cloaked in worldly power and wealth but rather in weakness and poverty: “though He was rich, yet for your sake he became poor …”. Christ, the eternal Son of God, one with the Father in power and glory, chose to be poor; he came amongst us and drew near to each of us; he set aside his glory and emptied himself so that he could be like us in all things (cf. Phil 2:7; Heb 4:15). God’s becoming man is a great mystery! But the reason for all this is his love, a love which is grace, generosity, a desire to draw near, a love which does not hesitate to offer itself in sacrifice for the beloved. Charity, love, is sharing with the one we love in all things. Love makes us similar, it creates equality, it breaks down walls and eliminates distances. God did this with us. Indeed, Jesus “worked with human hands, thought with a human mind, acted by human choice and loved with a human heart. Born of the Virgin Mary, he truly became one of us, like us in all things except sin.” (Gaudium et Spes #22).

By making himself poor, Jesus did not seek poverty for its own sake but, as Saint Paul says “that by his poverty you might become rich“. This is no mere play on words or a catch phrase. Rather, it sums up God’s logic, the logic of love, the logic of the incarnation and the cross. God did not let our salvation drop down from heaven, like someone who gives alms from their abundance out of a sense of altruism and piety. Christ’s love is different! When Jesus stepped into the waters of the Jordan and was baptized by John the Baptist, he did so not because he was in need of repentance, or conversion; he did it to be among people who need forgiveness, among us sinners, and to take upon himself the burden of our sins. In this way he chose to comfort us, to save us, to free us from our misery. It is striking that the Apostle states that we were set free, not by Christ’s riches but by his poverty. Yet Saint Paul is well aware of the “the unsearchable riches of Christ” (Eph 3:8), that he is “heir of all things” (Heb 1:2).

So what is this poverty by which Christ frees us and enriches us? It is his way of loving us, his way of being our neighbour, just as the Good Samaritan was neighbour to the man left half dead by the side of the road (cf. Lk 10:25ff ). What gives us true freedom, true salvation and true happiness is the compassion, tenderness and solidarity of his love. Christ’s poverty which enriches us is his taking flesh and bearing our weaknesses and sins as an expression of God’s infinite mercy to us. Christ’s poverty is the greatest treasure of all: Jesus’ wealth is that of his boundless confidence in God the Father, his constant trust, his desire always and only to do the Father’s will and give glory to him. Jesus is rich in the same way as a child who feels loved and who loves its parents, without doubting their love and tenderness for an instant. Jesus’ wealth lies in his being the Son; his unique relationship with the Father is the sovereign prerogative of this Messiah who is poor. When Jesus asks us to take up his “yoke which is easy”, he asks us to be enriched by his “poverty which is rich” and his “richness which is poor”, to share his filial and fraternal Spirit, to become sons and daughters in the Son, brothers and sisters in the firstborn brother (cf. Rom 8:29).

It has been said that the only real regret lies in not being a saint (L. Bloy); we could also say that there is only one real kind of poverty: not living as children of God and brothers and sisters of Christ…

Reflection:

Jesus came to share His wealth with us. Pope Francis explains the wealth of Jesus: “Jesus’ wealth is that of his boundless confidence in God the Father, his constant trust…” and he further clarifies: “Jesus’ wealth lies in his being the Son; his unique relationship with the Father…” To share this wealth with us, Jesus became poor. He accepted human love in place of divine love: the love of Joseph and the love of Mary. He accepted human parents and human helplessness instead of His divine Father and His divine power. But because He could not actually lose His divine Father or His Father’s divine power, He actually filled the poverty of human love from human parents with divine love. Now we too, who are poor, can experience the wealth of Christ, because we can call His Father “our Father” and we can learn about His Fatherhood from our human fathers and mothers and we can receive glimpses of divine love through our experiences of impoverished human love. And so our human experience has been radically transformed because Jesus has entered fully into it and blessed all of it as the way to receive His wealth—His boundless confidence in the Father and the richness of the Father’s love. “Jesus is rich in the same way as a child who feels loved and who loves its parents, without doubting their love and tenderness for an instant.” And in opening Mary’s womb for us to share His experience, He opens the door for us to share in that richness.

Prayers:

Litany of the Powerlessness of Jesus

Litany of Christ Living in the Womb of Mary

Prayer of St Thomas Aquinas before Holy Communion

Prayer of Entrustment to the Womb of Mary

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.

Day 24 – Knowledge of Mary

Day 24 – Mary and the Church

A Reading from the Holy Gospel according to John:

[S]tanding by the cross of Jesus were his mother, and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus saw his mother, and the disciple whom he loved standing near, he said to his mother, “Woman, behold, your son!” Then he said to the disciple, “Behold, your mother!” And from that hour the disciple took her to his own home. After this Jesus, knowing that all was now finished, said (to fulfil the Scripture), “I thirst.” (John 19:25-28)

From Pope Francis’s Apostolic Exhortation The Joy of the Gospel (Evangelii Gaudium #285-286):

On the cross, when Jesus endured in his own flesh the dramatic encounter of the sin of the world and God’s mercy, he could feel at his feet the consoling presence of his mother and his friend. At that crucial moment, before fully accomplishing the work which his Father had entrusted to him, Jesus said to Mary: “Woman, here is your son”. Then he said to his beloved friend: “Here is your mother” (Jn 19:26-27). These words of the dying Jesus are not chiefly the expression of his devotion and concern for his mother; rather, they are a revelatory formula which manifests the mystery of a special saving mission. Jesus left us his mother to be our mother. Only after doing so did Jesus know that “all was now finished”(Jn 19:28). 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, and our people read in this maternal image all the mysteries of the Gospel. The Lord did not want to leave the Church without this icon of womanhood. Mary, who brought him into the world with great faith, also accompanies “the rest of her offspring, those who keep the commandments of God and bear testimony to Jesus” (Rev 12:17). The close connection between Mary, the Church and each member of the faithful, based on the fact that each in his or her own way brings forth Christ, has been beautifully expressed by Blessed Isaac of Stella: “In the inspired Scriptures, what is said in a universal sense of the virgin mother, the Church, is understood in an individual sense of the Virgin Mary… In a way, every Christian is also believed to be a bride of God’s word, a mother of Christ, his daughter and sister, at once virginal and fruitful… Christ dwelt for nine months in the tabernacle of Mary’s womb. He dwells until the end of the ages in the tabernacle of the Church’s faith. He will dwell forever in the knowledge and love of each faithful soul”. (Isaac of Stella, Sermo 51: PL 194, 1863, 1865.)

Mary was able to turn a stable into a home for Jesus, with poor swaddling clothes and an abundance of love. She is the handmaid of the Father who sings his praises. She is the friend who is ever concerned that wine not be lacking in our lives. She is the woman whose heart was pierced by a sword and who understands all our pain…. As she did with Juan Diego, Mary offers [us] maternal comfort and love, and whispers in [our] ear: “Let your heart not be troubled… Am I not here, who am your Mother?” (Nican Mopohua, 118-119.)

Reflection:

After Jesus gave us His Mother to be our Mother, the Gospel says that He knew all was finished. Mary is able to turn the stable of our hearts into a home for Jesus, no matter how poor we feel we are. He knew that we needed a Mother to make the journey of Christian faith. In Mary we have a Mother and in the Church we have Mother. As Blessed Isaac of Stella taught us, what we can say about Mary, we can say about the Church. In one of the Church’s sacramentals of healing, the priest prays for the one who “ad Ecclesiae sinum recurrit,” (seeks refuge in the womb of the Church). The womb of Mary is the womb of the Church and that is the place of true liberation and healing. Through Marian consecration we come to see our relationship with the Church as being in the womb of our Mother and we discover the consolation and transformation that come from being so rooted in grace and surrounded by prayer.

Prayer:

Litany of the Holy Spirit or Veni Sancte Spiritus

Rosary (or at least one decade) followed by the Litany of Loreto

Prayer of Entrustment to the Womb of Mary

Emptying Ourselves Day 2 – Original sin poisons our thinking

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

So if there is any encouragement in Christ, any incentive of love, any participation in the Spirit, any affection and sympathy, complete my joy by being of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind. Do nothing from selfishness or conceit, but in humility count others better than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others. Have this mind among yourselves, which was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form he humbled himself and became obedient unto death, even death on a cross. (Phil 2:1-8)

From Pope Benedict XVI’s homily for the Immaculate Conception, December 8, 2005:

Dear brothers and sisters, if we sincerely reflect about ourselves and our history, we have to say that with this narrative [in Gen 3:1-7] is described not only the history of the beginning but the history of all times, and that we all carry within us a drop of the poison of that way of thinking, illustrated by the images in the Book of Genesis.

We call this drop of poison “original sin”. Precisely on the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, we have a lurking suspicion that a person who does not sin must really be basically boring and that something is missing from his life:  the dramatic dimension of being autonomous; that the freedom to say no, to descend into the shadows of sin and to want to do things on one’s own is part of being truly human; that only then can we make the most of all the vastness and depth of our being men and women, of being truly ourselves; that we should put this freedom to the test, even in opposition to God, in order to become, in reality, fully ourselves.

In a word, we think that evil is basically good, we think that we need it, at least a little, in order to experience the fullness of being. We think that Mephistopheles – the tempter – is right when he says he is the power “that always wants evil and always does good” (J.W. von Goethe, Faust I, 3). We think that a little bargaining with evil, keeping for oneself a little freedom against God, is basically a good thing, perhaps even necessary.

If we look, however, at the world that surrounds us we can see that this is not so; in other words, that evil is always poisonous, does not uplift human beings but degrades and humiliates them. It does not make them any the greater, purer or wealthier, but harms and belittles them.

Reflection:

Do I ever think that if I am “too good” life will be boring? Do I think that goodness is boring? Do I try to leave a little room for evil in my life, maybe on the weekend or just on Friday night or on vacation or after everyone has gone to bed? Am I only good when my spouse is nearby or an authority figure? Do I gloss over my sinfulness and justify it, even in the Confessional, with a phrase like, “Boys will be boys,” or “You gotta have a little fun!” Can I hear God calling me to a deeper conversion, to shut down these outlets and pursue goodness more whole-heartedly?

No one lived a more exciting life than Jesus and Mary, starting from when Jesus was conceived in the womb of Mary at the Annunciation and then she carried Him to her cousin Elizabeth. When we are willing to live in such a constant dependent relationship with Mary by being in her womb, life becomes more exciting, full and rich.

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

Good Friday – A story of weakness

The story of mankind is a story about weakness. In the beginning man was weak. Satan tried to help man hide his weakness. First he convinced man he didn't have to be weak, “You can fix your weakness–just eat the fruit.” That didn't work! Now man was twice as weak, also feeling ashamed. “That's alright,” Satan continues to tempt, “just hide yourself. If no one sees your weakness there's nothing to be ashamed of and the shame will go away.” That still didn't work as God kept calling out, “Adam, where are you?” Soon after, man tried a third tactic–destroy the weakness. Cain killed Abel. That seemed more effective, except that feeling wouldn't go away and that voice kept following us saying, “Where is your brother?”

Satan wants us to hide our weakness–by fixing it, running away, or destroying it.

Ever since then we have been trying to hide our weakness. The Passion narrative we just heard repeats the old story about the many ways that we hide our weakness.

What are some of the ways?
Peter used boasting, “I will never leave you !”
And pride, “you won't wash my feet.”
Peter used a sword but everyone knows a bully is really just insecure, weak.
Then Peter resorted to lies, “I do not know the man.”

What do you use to cover up your weakness?

Some of them ran away. Some slept. We can become perfectionists and control freaks about things that don't matter–just to stay away from our weakness in things that do matter. Do you point out other people's weaknesses to take the attention off your own (like I'm doing right now!)? Do you create a big hysteria about nothing so people won't see what you feel is really wrong–that you are weak? Judas tried to make more money–you can cover up everything if you have enough money. Sometimes we are willing to admit we are weak…just as long as we have a chance to earn forgiveness first and distract people with our strength (so that we don't appear to be so we weak).

What's wrong with covering up my weakness? What else would I do with my weakness? Trust? But then that serpentine voice returns, saying “Be careful! You can't trust people too much. They let you down. You can't trust in obedience–you have to be realistic you know?? You can't trust your parents or your superiors or your brothers or sisters. They've already proven they will let you down. If you trust you just get hurt. Take the offensive instead. The best defense is a good offense. And you certainly can't trust God–He is Almighty. He doesn't understand weakness. He will reject your weakness.”

God responds to weakness with love

But Jesus pleads “I thirst!” He is so weak.

The Passion of Christ is God's response to our weakness. He embraces it by loving it, sharing it, supporting it–all the way to the end.

Weakness is not the ugly, horrible thing that needs to be hidden. Rather, the ugly horrible thing is the lack of trust that prevents our weakness from being loved. That's the ugly thing. Judas was not ugly so much for his betrayal but for his suicide. He chose to destroy his weakness rather than to let Jesus love it.

Trust means “to let Jesus love our weakness.”
Faith means “we believe He always will.”

Sometimes we think that everything depends on how well we love Him. But we fail to love Him so often. We fail to carry out our duty, we fail to love our neighbor. And when we try to love Him and we fail we just want it to go away. Sometimes we even just want God to go away so that we don't have to face our failure, our weakness.

Maybe there is a little feeling of relief after the Passion. We think, “Finally He's dead! That voice will finally stop calling out, “Where are you? Where is your brother?” Now I can just forget it. I can just cover up my shame with the latest trendiest animal skins and walk out of Paradise and forget the whole thing. I'll just make my way on my own. It was all a bit too idealistic anyway.”

And Jesus lets us walk away.

But as long as we eventually stop running, He will come to find us, showing up behind our locked doors and showing us He doesn't hate our weakness. He never did. “Peace be with you!” And He shows His wounds. He knows what it's like to be weak. He loves our weakness. He just wanted us to trust Him. To say to Him, “I'm sorry. I'm weak. I need your help.”

The path of Peter can become our path as well. Peter covered his weakness with lies when he was next to a charcoal fire. That charcoal fire appears again on the shore of Tiberius and Peter again has the opportunity to cover his weakness. But instead he chooses to be honest–not boasting, not proud, not lying. When Jesus asks, “Do you love me with a divine love (agape), Peter?” Peter responds humbly, “Lord you know everything. You know I love you with only a human (weak, imperfect) love.” Jesus accepts this and tells Peter, “'Amen, amen, I say to you, when you were younger, you used to dress yourself and go where you wanted; but when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go.' He said this signifying by what kind of death he would glorify God. And when he had said this, he said to him, 'Follow me.'” In other words, “You will become weaker and weaker, but you will let me be your strength. That will glorify me and it will perfect your love.”

God doesn't despise our weakness. He loves us and He loves our weakness. We don't need to cover it up. We just need to trust. To take the hand He reaches out to us and let Him pick us up again. He won't let us down. We can trust Him.
There is no weakness that He will not share.
There is no weakness that His strength will not support.
There is no weakness that He will not mercifully embrace.

Will we take the risk of trusting Him again? With all our hearts? Trusting Him enough
to expose our weakness, not hide it,
to give it to Him, not destroy it,
to let Him heal us, not just try to fix ourselves?

Jesus held on to our weakness all the way to the end. “It is finished.” He shows us that He identifies with our ultimate weakness, death, and He breathes His last. But it's not the end. If we choose to trust Him and let Him hold us, our weaknesses will be shining with glory.

Homily given at St Emma Benedictine monastery Good Friday 2014