IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI
Daniel Berrigan once said: Before you get serious about Jesus, think carefully about how good you are going to look on wood!

That’s a needed caution because Jesus warned us that if we follow him, pain will flow into our lives and we will join him on the cross.

What exactly does that mean? Is pain laid on a disciple as some kind of test? Does Jesus need his followers to feel the pains he experienced? Does God want the followers of Jesus to undergo pain to help pay the price of sin? Why does accepting to carry the cross with Jesus bring pain into our lives?

It’s interesting to note that the great mystic John of the Cross uses this, the inflow of pain into our lives, as a major criterion for discerning whether or not we are authentically following Jesus. For John, you know you are following Jesus when pain begins to flow into your life. Why? Does God lay special pain on those who take Christ seriously?

No. God doesn’t apportion special pain on those who take Christ seriously. The pain that flows into our lives if we take Christ seriously doesn’t come from God. It flows into us because of a deeper openness, a deeper sensitivity, and a new depth on our part. The algebra works this way: By authentically opening ourselves up to Christ we cease being overly self-protective, become more vulnerable and more sensitive, so that life, all of it, can flow into us more freely and more deeply.

And part of what now flows into us is pain: the pain of others, the pain of mother earth, the pain of our own inadequacy and lack of altruism, and the pain caused by the effect of sin everywhere. This pain will now enter us more deeply and we will feel it in a way we never did before because previously we protected ourselves against it through insensitivity and self-focus.

Happily, this has a flip side: Just as pain will now flow into our lives more freely and more deeply, so too will meaning and happiness. Once we stop protecting ourselves through self-absorption, both pain and happiness can now flow more freely and more deeply into our hearts and we can begin to breathe out of a deeper part of ourselves.

Freud once commented that sometimes things can be best understood by examining their opposites. That’s partially the case here. The opposite of someone who opens herself to pain, who opens herself to the pain of the cross, is a person who is callous and insensitive (in slang, someone “who is thick as a plank.”) Such a person won’t feel a lot of pain – but won’t feel much of anything else either.

A number of implications flow from this.

First, God doesn’t lay pain on us when we become followers of Jesus and immerse ourselves more deeply in the mystery of Christ and the cross. The pain that ensues is intrinsic to the cross and is felt simply because we have now ceased protecting ourselves and are letting life, all of it, flow into us more freely and more deeply. Happily, the pain is more than offset by the new meaning and happiness that are now also felt.

Second, experiencing the pain that flows intrinsically from discipleship and the cross is, as John of the Cross wisely puts it, one of the major criteria that separates the real Gospel from the Prosperity Gospel. When the pain of the cross flows into our lives, we know that we are not feather-bedding our own self-interest in the name of the Gospel.

Third, it’s worth it to be sensitive! Freud once said that neurosis (unhealthy anxiety) is the disease of the normal person. What he didn’t say, but might have, is that the antithesis of anxiety (healthy and unhealthy) is brute insensitivity, to be thick as a plank and thus protected from pain – but also protected from deeper meaning, love, intimacy and community.

If you are a sensitive person (perhaps even an over-sensitive one, prone to depression and anxiety of all sorts) take consolation in that your very struggle indicates that you are not a calloused insensitive person, not a moral boor.

Finally, one of the implications of this is that heaven isn’t the same for everyone. Just as pain can be shallow or deep, so too can meaning and happiness. To the degree that we open our hearts to depth, to that same degree deep meaning and happiness can flow into us. A closed heart makes for shallow meaning. A heart partially open makes for some deep meaning, but not full meaning. Whereas the heart that is fully open makes for the deepest meaning.

There are different depths to meaning and happiness here on earth and, I suspect, that will be true too in the next life. So, the invitation from Jesus is to accept the pain that comes from the wood of the cross rather than being thick as a plank!

(Oblate Father Ron Rolheiser is a theologian, teacher and award-winning author. He can be contacted through his website www.ronrolheiser.com.)

FAITH ALIVE
By D.D. Emmons
Jan. 1 is the solemnity of Mary, Mother of God, the final day of the Christmas octave.

In the fifth century, a heresy led by Nestorius, patriarch of Constantinople (r. 428-431) claimed that Jesus was actually two persons: one human and one divine – that his divinity was instilled on him after he was born. Thus, they reasoned incorrectly that Mary was the mother of Jesus but not the mother of God. Their rationale contradicted ancient Christian beliefs as well as proclamations and canons issued at earlier church councils.

At the Ecumenical Council of Nicea in 325, the church fathers had clearly determined that Jesus was consubstantial with the Father and, therefore, Mary was the Mother of God.

In response to the heretical message of Nestorius, another ecumenical council was held in 431 at Ephesus, Turkey. Led by St. Cyril (r. 412-444), bishop of Alexandria, Egypt, Mary was defended as Theotokos, God-bearer, and that Jesus was one person with a divine and human nature; Mary was the Mother of God. Nestorianism was condemned by the council and Nestorians excommunicated.

The people of Ephesus, joyful over the council decision, went through the streets chanting, “Mary, Mother of God,” which would become words prayed during the rosary devotion.

Some 1,500 years after the council, Pope Pius XI (r. 1922-1939) would claim: “If the Son of the Blessed Virgin Mary is God, assuredly she who bore him is rightly and deservedly to be called the Mother of God.”

(D.D. Emmons writes from Pennsylvania.)

REFLECTIONS ON LIFE
By Melvin Arrington
Have you ever noticed on social media the use of the phrase “I love you more?” Although this seems to be a fairly recent phenomenon, its usage is becoming more and more prevalent in written communication. For example, a daughter writes to her mother, “I love you,” and the mother, instead of responding, “I love you, too,” says, “I love you more.” Does this mean “more than you love me?” Or maybe “more than you’ll ever know?” Or perhaps “more than anyone else could ever love you?” On the surface it looks rather silly, almost like a game. But true love is not a game. It’s what our lives should be about.

I have two daughters, both of whom I cherish. The intensity of my affection is the same for each of them. There is no quantifiable difference in how much I care for each one. The only distinction I can make is one of duration rather than intensity; that is, I have loved the older one longer but not any more than the younger one.

God, on the other hand, has loved all of us the same length of time, despite differences in our ages, because He has known each of us from all eternity: “He chose us in Him, before the foundation of the world, to be holy and without blemish before Him. In love He destined us for adoption to Himself through Jesus Christ.” (Ephesians 1:4-5a) Psalm 139 expresses this even more vividly in the beautiful image of God as the First Knitter: “You formed my inmost being; You knit me in my mother’s womb. I praise You, because I am wonderfully made; wonderful are Your works! My very self You know.” (vv. 13-14) In short, God loves each of us more than we love Him and more than we will ever know, and more than anyone else could ever love us.

Throughout Scripture God is seeking to bring us back into the deep, personal, committed love relationship He intended for us to have with Him from the beginning, a relationship that has been damaged, and in some cases, broken because of our willful disobedience. In Genesis chapter 3, Adam sins and then tries to hide, but God goes looking for him and calls out to him. One of Christ’s seven sayings on the Cross, “I thirst,” (John 19:28) means, in addition to physical thirst, His thirst for souls. He longs for us, even when we turn our backs on Him. In Revelation, we see the Lord continuing to pursue us: “I stand at the door and knock.” (3:20) All we have to do is open the door and invite Him into our hearts and our lives.

We are like the little sheep that wandered off and was lost in Luke chapter 15. Jesus told this parable to make a point, but He also meant it in the sense that He would really and truly leave the ninety-nine and go in search of the one that was lost because every soul is precious to Him.

True love is self-sacrificing, and no one has sacrificed more on our behalf than Our Lord: “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” (John 15:13) Look how much Jesus loves us. When He went to the cross for us, to pay to sin debt that we couldn’t pay, He surrendered everything He had: His clothes – “They divided His garments by casting lots” (Matt. 27:35); His mother – “Behold, your mother” (John 19:27); His life – “It is finished” (John 19:30); His very spirit – “Father, into Your hands I commend My spirit.” (Luke 23:46) All of this, not to mention that He gave up the glory of the heavenly kingdom to become one of us, born in a filthy stable because there was no room for Him in the inn: “And the Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us.” (John 14:1a)

That’s what He did for us. That’s how much He loved us, and yet we complain about having to abstain from meat for a few days during Lent! Heaven help us! Along the same lines, St. John of the Cross once said: “Whenever anything disagreeable or displeasing happens to you, remember Christ crucified and be silent.” I’m ashamed to admit how often I have to remind myself of that saying.

How can we let Jesus know that we really love Him during the Christmas season? Obviously, we can do it by giving generously to worthy charitable causes and by performing the corporal works of mercy. Also, we can be more patient with others, practice kindness, and let others see all of the other fruits of the Spirit in our lives. But what else can we do? Two specific things come to mind: spend more time in prayer and make frequent visits to our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament. He is waiting there for us.

So, when we tell the Lord we love Him and try to prove it by the way we treat others and by how much time we spend with Him in prayer, Scripture reading, and adoration, His reply might very well be, “I love you more,” because He truly does. Merry Christmas!

(Melvin Arrington is a Professor Emeritus of Modern Languages for the University of Mississippi and a member of St. John Oxford.)

ON ORDINARY TIMES
By Lucia A. Silecchia
It happens all year – the requests for donations for all manner of charitable causes.

Pleas come in the mail from children’s hospitals, medical researchers, religious communities and educational institutions seeking funds to further their missions.

Television ads, set to melancholy music, beg for contributions to end world hunger and save abandoned animals.

Celebrities lend their names to fundraising campaigns and telethons for the causes they embrace and the issues they champion.

Emails pour in from every charitable organization, seeking resources to expand – or to survive. In the week of “Giving Tuesday,” the promises of matching contributions and competitive giving takes on an energy all its own.

At nearly every Mass, second collections seem to be taken up to aid victims of natural disasters, support those in need at home and abroad, and fund education and welfare activities of all kinds.

It can, at times, seem overwhelming. Whether we write checks, enter our credit card number on a website, respond to a solicitation call, or drop some folded bills in a collection basket, the array of needs we are invited to meet seems endless – and, many times, impersonal. Often, convincing potential donors of the enormity of a problem, the depths of the despair and the vastness of the need can seem to be the most effective way to jolt them into a response. In this, though, it can become too easy to forget the individuals on whose behalf the help is sought. It can also become too easy to do nothing when it seems like any individual response is too small for problems so big.

I have noticed, however, that this seems to change at Christmastime. Certainly, the end of the year spurs fresh large-scale outreach to those who may want to take advantage of charitable tax deductions while time remains. Yet, it is at Christmastime that requests for help become more personal.

There are Christmas trees in the vestibules of so many churches, inviting parishioners to purchase a gift for a child in need. This is not an anonymous request for funding, but a specific invitation to buy a Lego set for a 5-year-old girl and a book for a 2-year-old boy.

There are sign-up sheets to bake casseroles for parish families in need. Again, this is not a faceless fundraiser to solve world hunger, but a specific recipe to prepare a simple meal for a neighbor.
In a season celebrating the birth of a child, crisis pregnancy centers seek infant clothing and cribs, and donors respond as they recall an infant in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.

Local shelters continue to seek monetary contributions, but they also solicit the warmth and care of volunteers who will serve hot food at holiday dinners for those who have no place to call home. Christmas concerts at nursing homes bring young singers into the life of those who need the gift of cheer and joy more than they may any other gift.

Families are encouraged to adopt families in need and offered the chance to purchase the essentials for a holiday meal. Food drives in schools, supermarkets and neighborhood associations invite shoppers to purchase extra grocery items for neighbors when they are shopping, with love, for their own families
These small gestures do not solve the big problems of the world. In practical terms, they inefficiently ignore the economies of scale that drive larger campaigns.

Yet, in a deeply profound way, love is not efficient. It is best served in the intimate doses that are personal opportunities for sisters and brothers in Christ to see each other, to respond to each other’s needs, to learn the aches of each other’s’ hearts, and to believe that simple, small acts done with love make a difference.

Soon, in our Christmas songs we will sing of a Child with “no crib for a bed” and “a Child, a Child [who] shivers in the cold.” Soon after that, when January comes, giving can too easily become more impersonal again. But, perhaps the inefficient, personal love we are invited to share at Christmas will linger behind and be a new way of giving in ordinary times.

(Lucia A. Silecchia is Professor of Law and Associate Dean for Faculty Research at the Catholic University of America’s Columbus School of Law.)