Fruits

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law.

Galatians 5:22-23

 

How can the world recognize a Christian? By the words they quote? The symbols they wear? The laws they uphold? No. Not even by their virtues, per se, but by their fruits, 

You will know them by their fruits. (Matthew 7:16)

In a time when the Church calls us to the New Evangelization, it seems like we ought to start with the fruits our lives bear. If we aren't producing good fruit, no amount of speechifying, apologetics or (saints preserve us) argumentation will attract people to Christ.

And the scriptures give us a clue by listing the fruits of some one in union with the Holy Spirit. What what we to make of that? How shall each of us judge ourselves? Perhaps a good examination of conscience might start with examining my life for signs of:

• Love
• Joy
• Peace
• Patience
• Kindness
• Goodness
• Faithfulness
• Gentleness
• Self-control

I stumble right out the gate on that second one if not the first. In the next few posts, I think I'll examine those one by one.

Emptiness

 Last week I found a little book I had forgotten, shoved back on my bookshelf behind heavier things. It was The Reed of God, one once dear to my heart. I've been reading it every night and so it is again.

She begins with emptiness, the necessity if we are to be filled with Christ, We must be empty; we must be filled; and then—only then—and can we be the hands, the feet, and the beating heart that carries Christ where He wishes to go.

She speaks of three kinds of emptiness. The reed is the delicate emptiness through which the music of God can flow. The chalice is the solid emptiness in which sacrifice, necessary, and needed, can occur. A next is a soft emptiness in which life can be nurtured. We are, she says, all called to our own specific emptiness in order to be what He wishes.

My first image of God was of as the hub of the wheel that is my life. In that vision, a world of people, things, issues, worries, activity flowed in a chaotic circle held in place and given meaning by that hub.  She suggests a different image, one in which we enter into the emptiness at the center, by freeing our minds and souls of the chatter and the noise. It is harder than it sounds. I'm reminded of a mantra He gave me long ago: Listen; don't talk.

Advent is a good time to let the quiet seep in.

An Open Letter to the Church in the Face of Abuse Scandals

To: Cardinal Daniel N. DiNardo and bishops collectively as the USCCB

Denying sin is self-deception.

If we say, “We are without sin,” we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we acknowledge our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive our sins and cleanse us from every wrongdoing. If we say, “We have not sinned," we make him a liar, and his word is not in us. (1John: 1:8-10)

This passage slapped me in the face this morning during morning prayer, when struggling, as I have been lately with faith in the governance of my church. Please note I do not struggle with faith in the mystical body, real presence, or the Nicene creed. I certainly do not struggle with faith in our all loving and merciful God. I only struggle with, well, you. 

I write in the face of scandals, plural. In spite of revelation after revelation of crime and cover-up, I, like many of the faithful who sit in your pews, have very little evidence of any real change. Neither slick statements written by image experts and lawyers nor half-baked apologies from the bishops sitting on their thrones at the altar have shown any real repentence. Real repentence requires acknowledgement of guilt.

Our church no longer requires public penance. Perhaps we should. For clergy who abuse children or adults over who they have authority, public penance consists of facing the police and the courts and—pray God—admission of guilt.

You however—every one of you who have in any way covered up, brushed aside, hidden, or mismanaged cases of abuse—have yet to face adequate consequences. The financial consquences will be paid by the faithful, not by you. Bring them on! Personally, i think that if we're forced to sell every asset we have and go back to meeting in homes and public places, so be it. Perhaps the energy of the early church may come back.

Sins so public require public penance. Everyone of you who has abused church power in this way should strip off your robes and badges of office, go down on your knees in front of your cathedrals—and maybe the churches of every parish in your diocese—and beg God's forgiveness and ours.

My faith tells me I have to forgive. I'm working on that. It also teaches me that if you wish to have God's forgiveness you have to admit the sin. Pleased do,

Carol Roddy

Vines

I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.         John 15:5

In many ways, this is the quintessential Easter text. Life for those of us connected to the vine.  The abiding part is fairly easy. It is a warm fuzzy sort of text. God's life is in me!

Remembering that last bit, however, is the tough part. We can do what? Nothing. All our work means nothing unless we do it with Him. A good marriage? Not without God at the center. Our efforts at spiritual life? Nada. Prayer? Don't even go there.


Most mornings I wake up with a prayer and remember the day belongs to God. Most. Not all. Evenings are another story. By about mid-afternoon (if not before) I'm running on my own power...which means running on empty. If it is a good day, I circle back around and tap in before I got to bed.

In this effort, as in all things, I need His help because I can do nothing.

Life in the Midst of Winter

 Christ will be exalted in my body,whether by life or by death. For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.
                                        Philippians 1:20-21

That is one of the few bits of scripture I know by heart in both English and Latin. Why then do I forget it so often?

I have wandered into yet another patch in which prayer has become one more thing to check of my list of tasks, and Mass one of the obligations I faithfully carry out.  When this happens I become a creature of the religion and the law, as Paul viewed it. Only life in Christ gives Lauds meaning. Only life in Christ gives the Mass its power and glory. I walk with a person, not a set of rules and I forget that at my peril.