20120321

Reconciliation


Imagine being able to tell someone the worst things you’ve ever done in your life, the dirtiest little secrets that you couldn’t imagine telling anyone else about. No human person could let it slide completely. We strive for unconditional love (and some are able to come inspiringly close to achieving it completely), but there is no human being alive whose perception of us would not be at least slightly altered by such an airing of our dirty laundry. As such, we tend to put up barriers between ourselves and others. Despite what some might say, this is at times a wise course of action. Jesus taught us not to “give what is holy to dogs, or throw your pearls before swine, lest they trample them underfoot, and turn and tear you to pieces” (Matthew 7:6). I think it’s completely possible for us to throw our own dignity to the assorted dogs and swine of the world. Personal stories and unflattering details about our past need not be worn on our sleeves, because such information can be exploited by negative people.

That said, it is wholly unhealthy to barricade ourselves from the world. Humans thrive on social contact with each other, even seemingly insignificant social contact. How, then, are we to address the problem of these dirty little secrets, the sins of our past that sometimes seem to stick in our minds and hearts, gumming up the emotional works? We may shudder at the thought of sharing them with others, and so they remain locked in the confines of our own person.

For those who believe in God, there is a solution to this problem: God forgives us. God, the One to Whom we ought to be most sorry for any of our sins (because sins against other people are sins against precious aspects of His creation), holds nothing against us. Living on earth as Jesus of Nazareth, God died for us on the cross in order to forgive our sins. In a perfect world, we could fully turn to God after committing a sin and, if filled only with humble repentance, accept His unconditional love and forgiveness.

But as fragile and imperfect human beings, this task is exceedingly difficult. No, it’s actually impossible. We cannot fathom God. We cannot fully empathize with His unconditional love, because we cannot fully practice it ourselves. Accordingly, we cannot express repentance directly to Him and feel fully forgiven without retaining some shred of doubt, some question in the back of our mind.

As Catholics, we are graced with a special gift, the Sacrament of Reconciliation. Sacraments are physical signs of God’s presence in our lives, shown through specific interactions and objects. I like to think of them as portals through which God breaks into our lives more directly than anywhere else.

In Reconciliation, we have the opportunity to face another human being, a priest empowered by the grace of God, and in so doing face Christ himself, listening to us pour our hearts out, share everything we’re afraid to tell another, everything that shames us and brings us down. In Reconciliation, we plumb the depths of our shame, hit the rock bottom of our souls, scoop out all of the clutter, and let the light shine all the way in. It doesn't feel good at first, because we have to be ready to spit it all out. Sin doesn't taste as sweet on the way out. But once we let it go, we're emptied of our evil--and ready to let love take its place.

Reconciliation gives us the chance to tell God we’re sorry, and realize (through the personal presence of the priest) that God is a personal being, a personal being Who loves us unconditionally. He wants to make us better. Reconciliation is not about punishment for our sins. It is about abandoning them in the face of God’s amazing love and listening to how we can improve ourselves for the future. This is also why I believe that face-to-face Reconciliation, while it is singularly difficult for me to bring myself to take part in it, is also the most rewarding and grace-filled experience of the Sacrament that I have found.

I have heard about an experience of this Sacrament in a past era which involved an angry priest yelling at a penitent for his sins. Although I do not doubt the power of the Sacrament even in such a strange and uncomfortable situation (regardless of how the penitent felt afterward, which was probably not very good!), I cannot thank God enough for bringing our Church to its modern understanding and practice of the Sacrament. The priest is not there to judge us as God’s inquisitor, but to love us as God’s representative, and to call us to “sin no more” by offering a penance that will bring us closer to God and begin the process of improvement.

What a gift we have as Catholics—the chance to feel, through the physical presence of a fellow human being, the personal and unconditional love of the living God! The ultimate feeling that comes with Reconciliation is freedom, the blessed kind of freedom that is based in living a totally true life. When we confess our sins, there is not a trace of falsehood left within us. We have left nothing inside to be hidden from the world. Jesus was right:



Peacefully,


Joezilla

20120314

Life's Classroom

One of the greatest things about life is that it offers quiet, whispered lessons every day. It takes a lot of willingness, a bit of inner peace, and a dash of grace to hear these lessons, but I know from experience that they're there for the taking. I offer today as a wonderful example.
I was blessed with a wonderful combination this morning: beautiful weather, crackling enthusiasm, and a large chunk of free time. Accordingly, I was able to spend a few minutes raking dead grass in the yard—and, I must add, enjoying the nature! All this would have been great, but God topped it all off with some wonderful inspirations. These are those little lessons I'm talking about. I hope you enjoy them, as well.





First, I realized as I raked that happiness comes with habits. Let me be clear here. We can all have a happy moment (for instance, winning the Lottery) or a happy experience (like a dinner with old friends). This is happiness as a feeling. True happiness, what I like to call deep happiness, is more of a trait that we can nurture or neglect, much like a muscle or a skill. Happiness must be exercised. Inner peace must be a goal. This starts with physical relaxation (not sitting in an easy chair, but striving for relaxed and unhurried motion in daily life--eliminating unnecessary tension in the body), but it also requires other work, both inside and out. Gratitude must be clung to like a lifesaver, because that is precisely what it is. G.K. Chesterton wisely observed that "Thanks are the highest form of thought." Acts of service should make visible the love we have for those in our lives. Of course, there's much more, but what I realized today was that happiness, like all good things (and some really bad ones!) requires habitual action.

The second lesson was about excess—and, if I may be bold, the nature of God. I was struck by the vibrant brightness of the day out there. The sky was not just blue, it was an insanely deep, bright, fall-into-it-if-you-stare-at-it-too-long kind of blue. The evergreens weren't just green, they were a glowing, smiling, healthy, look-at-me sort of green. The birds were boisterously chirping in some great treetop debate that somehow involved the whole neighborhood. The whole of nature seemed so happy. I was filled with inner peace.


But that's the strange part--this scene was anything but peaceful on the outside. My eyes were buffeted with light and color, my ears were filled with wind and cheep-cheeps. But it soothed my spirit. Why? Well, I think it's because our God is not one of moderation. Moderation is an earthly concept, and a blessed one--it frees us from the captivity of our humanity, allowing us to set our sights on something higher than our animal impulses and desires. Moderation is one of our greatest defenses against evil. But once this life is over, moderation, I think, will be a thing of the past. If Heaven is placement in a divine family typified by perfect Love, who needs to be moderate there? I think Heaven will be excess, in the best sense of the word--God's love filling each member of the Kingdom to a degree that is now unfathomable to our mortal minds. For now, all we can do is marvel at the blue skies He sends us.



The final insight came from a quick climb of a tree. Ascending about 25 feet into the air, I was treated to an unusual perspective on the surrounding neighborhood. Seeing the trees, houses, and particularly the street from such an unusual angle flipped a switch in the back of my mind, and reminded me just how amazing everything really looks. The smooth curves of the road, expertly planned by some engineer decades ago, jumped out at me in a way I never appreciated while driving them. The houses, too, looked novel and fascinating from this unorthodox altitude.


Although I soon lost sight of this valuable perspective-shift, I remembered it while driving later in the day--and that strange elevated view of the road came back to my mind; suddenly, I was no longer just driving back from school, but instead driving on a strange and fascinating trip to a wonderful destination. That physical shift in perspective reminded me to appreciate all experience as unique. I'm indebted again to G.K. Chesterton, who said that "Every instant of conscious life is an unimaginable marvel." How true, indeed!


See what a little sunshine can do? =)


Happily,


Joezilla