Giving Up Ourselves

We are to give of ourselves.  We are to pour ourselves out for our neighbor.  Out of love for our neighbor, we are to die to ourselves so our neighbor can more fully live.  We are reminded of how we are called to such death and rebirth through how Jesus lived, died and rose from the dead for us.  In emulating and following Jesus, we are to model such love for each other.  I have seen a dear friend live out this love, throughout the whole time I have known him, and especially over the past year.  

Yesterday I visited this dear friend.  Years ago he asked me to address him as "Uncle," so here in this blog post I'll call him "Uncle."  Uncle is much older than I am.  He's the father of two friends of mine who were in college with me; I've known them for over twenty years.  Since we've been good friends for so long, years ago they introduced me to their father, who is Uncle.  
About nine months ago Uncle had a stroke.  He has been slowly recovering from this stroke: he cannot speak; he can move much less than he used to move.  He has been recuperating in long-term care facilities.  I have been struck by his tenacity and his determination.  Although he has faced significant challenges as he tries to regain his functioning, he has not been deterred.  

He has not given up.  He has kept trying to get better.  Although his body is broken, still he gives of himself.  

Jesus' body was broken for us.  Jesus gave of Himself for our sakes.  

Today we celebrate the Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ.  Today we especially honor how Jesus gave up His body and His blood for us.   

When Jesus celebrated the Last Supper with His disciples, He broke the bread and gave it to His disciples, telling them, "This is My Body, given for you."  With the cup of wine, He told them, "This is My Blood, poured out for you."  As He gave them the bread and the cup, He instructed His disciples, "Do this in memory of me."*  Thus we celebrate the Eucharist when we celebrate Mass.  

Jesus has told us to do as he has done.  Give yourself up for your neighbor.  

Uncle is still giving of himself for the sake of his children and grandchildren.  By facing physical pain and incapacitation with resolve and fortitude, he is showing his children and his grandchildren how to respond courageously to formidable challenges.  In how he stays his course as he bravely grapples with his physical challenges, he is continuing to teach his children and his grandchildren about persistence, a labor of love to be honored today on Father's Day, and everyday.  

Uncle is embracing the duty God has placed before him.  Yesterday when I saw Uncle, I read to him an excerpt from "The Sacrament of the Present Moment" by Jean-Pierre de Caussade, which I felt he would find inspiring.  In it, de Caussade asks us, 

Is not a picture painted on a canvas by the application of one stroke of the brush at a time?  Similarly the cruel chisel destroys a stone with each cut.  But what the stone suffers by repeated blows is no less the shape the mason is making of it.  And should a poor stone be asked, "What is happening to you?" it might reply, "Don't ask me.  All I know is that for my part there is nothing for me to know or do, only to remain steady under the hand of my Master and to love Him and suffer Him to work out my destiny.  It is for Him to know how to achieve this.  I know neither what is best and most perfect, and I suffer each cut of the chisel as though it were the best thing for me, even though, to tell the truth, each one is my idea of ruin, destruction and defacement.  But, ignoring all this, I rest contented with the present moment.  Thinking only of my duty to it, I submit to the work of this skillful Master without caring to know what it is."  

God calls us to the duty of the present moment.  God seeks to shape us through means we would not have chosen on our own.  God speaks to us in ways we don't expect.  

I think of Father Bruno, one of the Camaldolese monks I met at the hermitage in Big Sur, and how he found encouragement in his monastic vocation in a way some might see as unlikely, as described in the book "Adam: God's Beloved" by Henri Nouwen.  Once Father Bruno had stopped serving as prior, or head, of the monastic community in Big Sur, he took a sabbatical to help him to transition from holding authority to once again being a regular monk.  During his three months away from the hermitage, Father Bruno stayed at one of the L'Arche homes for disabled people founded by Jean Vanier.  While caring for a young intellectually disabled man named Adam at a L'Arche home, Father Bruno related how this disabled man, who essentially could not speak, was helping him to be a better monk.  Father Bruno explained that he had known that he "had to become empty for God, gradually letting go of thoughts, emotions, feelings and passions" that prevent deep communion with God.  Father Bruno described how silent Adam was helping him to delve into deeper solitude and thus deeper communion with God.  

We find encouragement in our relationship with God through people we don't expect, and through circumstances we don't expect.  God speaks to us both through pleasure and through pain, both of which can help us to welcome God into our hearts.  

When we encounter hardship, it might not seem like a blessing to us.  In the moment, all we see and feel is our own misery.  Yet we can come to realize that by pouring ourselves out for our neighbor, we can help our neighbor more fully live.  If we embrace our suffering, we are well-positioned to love our neighbor.  If we consciously embrace our afflictions so that others can live better, we can witness our pain being transformed into a sacrifice of love.  A sacrifice lovingly given can bear beautiful fruit, which can be seen in how others come to love better through the example provided to them.  

Once we see that our suffering can become an occasion for us to better love our neighbor, we come to see that God allows us to encounter adversity for our own good.  And of course God allows us pleasure for our comfort.  And so we can come to see God in all things.  We can come to welcome ordeals once we see that God is working all for our good, if we just love Him.**  

Realizing that God works all for the good of those who love Him, we come to thank God always.***  Seeing that God is always loving us, since God is love,**** we come to ever more open our hearts to God.  Welcoming God as love, we welcome whatever God sends to us.  Out of love, we welcome God into our hearts.  Amen.  

* Matthew 26:26-28; Mark 14:22-24; Luke 22:19-20; 
1 Corinthians 11:23-25 

** Romans 8:28 

*** 1 Thessalonians 5:18 

**** 1 John 4:8,16 

Belonging To Others

When we see how alike we are, we love each other.  We love each other when we remember that we belong to each other.  

As we see that we need others to forgive us, we forgive others.  We forgive others because we want to be forgiven.  As Jesus instructed us, if we forgive others their failings, God our Heavenly Father will forgive us.  Yet, as Jesus added, if you do not forgive others, your Heavenly Father will not forgive you.*  We are forgiven to the extent we forgive.  We determine our destinies in how forgiving we are of others, and so our fates and the fates of others are tied up in each others' hearts.  

We forgive each other because we realize we belong to each other.  We forgive one another because we do not want to try to separate ourselves from each other.  We forgive each other because we do not want to live under the illusion that we are apart from each other.  The reality is that we are a part of each other.  

Being part of one another, we see we must love one another.  Seeing we are intertwined with each other, we know we must forgive each other not only to love others, but also to love ourselves.  

Realizing we need to be forgiven too, we are realizing we need to be loved.  Forgiving each other, and thus loving each other, we love ourselves.  

I have seen these truths lived out amongst the homeless people here in Redwood City.  Although they have their disagreements, they forgive one another because they love one another.  

Recently I was in a parking lot with a couple of homeless people I know, who here I'll call "Kimberly" and "Benny."  Kimberly and Benny were arguing.  Although they were not yelling at each other, they clearly were not pleased with each other.  Even though I had already started driving away, I stopped.  I pleaded with them, "One thing."  They both stopped what they were doing and were totally intent on what I was about to say.  I implored them, "Please love one another."  

Kimberly immediately replied, "Anywhere other than Redwood City, it wouldn't be this hard."  

Having made my plea, I resumed driving away.  Often it's after the moment has passed that I think of what I would have said at the time.  

Had I thought of it at the time, I would have said to Kimberly, "Sister, stop making excuses.  You and I have the same bad habit: we need to stop making excuses."  

By coming up with excuses, we seek to absolve ourselves of responsibility.  As the French priest Jean-Pierre de Caussade noted, our duty to God rests in the present moment.  To embrace the present moment, we need to be accountable for our actions in the present moment.  We must admit where we have gone wrong and how we can improve.  I struggle with this call to accept what I have done and how I can better behave.  Typically I start to explain.  I begin supplying the context for my actions.  Often people need not know what else was going on when I did what I did. Rather, we can be silent and simply focus on what we are called to do in that moment, namely, examine our own actions and how we can conduct ourselves better next time.  

To help me better prepare for another opportunity to take responsibility for my own actions, I am encouraged by my sister Kimberly.  She reminds me that I am not the only one challenged by the need to acknowledge the shortcomings in our own behavior.  

I see this and other similarities between Kimberly and myself, since I know we are more alike than many people think.  I look past the differences between her and me, so she can help me to grow.  Someone once told me, "Kimberly does meth."  Were I to dismiss Kimberly because supposedly she is addicted to methamphetamines, I would lose the insights I gain about myself through her.  Welcoming her into my heart, I allow her to teach me about myself.  Seeing the commonalities between her and me, I realize that she and I are alike in important ways.  
The Dutch priest Henri Nouwen noted this truth, that we share more similarities than we initially think, during his time living with mentally disabled persons at one of the homes in the L'Arche movement founded by Jean Vanier.  Nouwen realized that living with mentally disabled persons brought him closer to his own vulnerabilities.  He explained that 

While at first it seemed quite obvious who was handicapped and who was not, living together day in and out made the boundaries less clear. . . . And when I had the courage to look deeper, to face my emotional neediness, my inability to pray, my impatience and restlessness, my many anxieties and fears, the word 'handicap' started to have a whole new meaning.  The fact that my handicaps were less visible . . . didn't make them less real.  

At first it may seem very clear who is the one with the problems.  We can easily conclude, "That drug addict is not like me."  We can quickly misapprehend ourselves and others, and mistakenly declare, "That person is messed up; I am fine."  Sooner or later we realize we share some of the same frailties that societally despised persons exhibit.  I have been told that Kimberly suffers from depression, and that she takes meth to cope with the depression she feels.  I suffer from depression if my blood sugar level drops too low, and so I cope with depression by consuming sugar.  Kimberly is addicted to meth, and I am addicted to sugar.  I deliberately use that word: if I do not get enough sugar, my mood not only plummets, but my perceptions become severely distorted.  Since the only chemical recourse I have to alleviate my depression is sugar, I am literally addicted to sugar.  While Kimberly has chosen a less healthy, less socially acceptable, and more disruptive way to cope with her depression, nevertheless the fact remains that she and I suffer from the same problem, that of depression.  

When we glance at someone, we may dismiss that person.  If we only get a glimpse of someone, we may think we have nothing in common with that person.  At first it may seem quite obvious who is disabled and who is not.  Initially it might seem apparent who is the one with problems and who is the one without problems.  Once we get to know people, and once we see how others are like us, it might become less clear who is who.  

Kimberly lives in a tent pitched behind some bushes.  I live in a Catholic Worker House.  Kimberly suffers from depression, and so do I.  Just because I cope with my mental disability in a more socially acceptable way, in a less unhealthy manner, and less disruptively than Kimberly deals with hers doesn't mean she and I don't share a mental disability.  Just because my mental disability is less evident than Kimberly's doesn't negate the fact that she and I suffer from the same condition.  

Kimberly and I share a common hardship.  Having seen that we both have the same deficiency, we are empowered to love one another.  In the past, it could have seemed only like a curse; now through the light of love, it is a blessing since it enables us to understand each other better and thus to love one another.  When we see why our neighbor acts the way she acts, we come to have compassion on her.  Realizing that we share much which is important, we come not only to respect our neighbor, but truly to love our neighbor.  We see that in loving our neighbor, we are loving ourselves.  We see that God calls us to love our neighbor as ourselves** since we belong to each other.  We see that to have peace, we must remember that we belong to each other, as Saint Teresa of Calcutta implicitly urged.  

It seems that those who are homeless here in Redwood City have realized these truths.  Weeks after Kimberly and Benny exchanged sharp words in that parking lot, I crossed paths with Benny.  As we were talking, I mentioned Kimberly.  He asked me, if I were to see her, to tell her that he had her bicycle.  I told him I would convey that message to her if I saw her.  

Then my tear ducts opened.  I added, "That's why I love you all so much, all of you who are homeless here in Redwood City.  Even if you're angry with each other, you still help each other."  
Benny, who already had been speaking in a low tone of voice, lowered his voice even further.  He replied softly, "Yeah... we look out for each other."  

We look past our differences because we know are similar.  We forgive when we realize how similar we are.  When we see our faults in others, we are led to forgive them, for both their sakes as well as ours.  We forgive because our hearts are tied up with each other.  

We forgive because we love.  We love because we belong to each other.  We love because we belong to God.  We are a part of each other because God made us to love Him and one another.  In forgiving, and thus in loving, we embrace not only each other, but also the truth that we belong to each other and to God, and thus become who God has always intended us to be.  

* Matthew 6:14-15; Mark 11:25-26 
** Matthew 22:39; Mark 12:31; Luke 10:27; Leviticus 19:18; Romans 13:9; Galatians 5:14