Tag: Kathryn Mulderink

What is faith? How big is faith? How big is it supposed to be?

How big is a mustard seed? Is tiny faith enough to do big things? Why would we ever want to move a mountain?

These are the questions my 7-year-old self asked when I first heard the words of this Gospel:

“If you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move.”

Will it? I can’t even seem to say to my children, “Move from here to there,” and they will move…

Well, faith is not a thing that we can hold or measure. And it is not simply an idea that we carry in our heads, where we say we believe all things. Faith is a RELATIONSHIP. Tiny relationships with powerful Persons can indeed move mountains.

Faith is my personal relationship with the reality of God. Relationships are built on deep trust – in this case, deep, unshakeable trust in the power and goodness of a loving God. This relationship, this essential connection with the One Who IS, the One Who IS LOVE, is a sharing in the very power of God.

But it doesn’t stop there. Because if my faith is authentic and selfless, if my connection with the reality and power of God is what it should be, it transforms my attitudes and creates a new vision in which I live and think and act. If my whole self is turned toward the healing and empowering Presence of God, if my faith seeks salvation and justification from God alone in Christ, then I also allow Jesus to act in me and through me AS HE WILLS, because I trust that He knows best, He gives all we need, He makes all things new! As Erasmus Leiva-Merikakis says, “It means the deep and joyful reception of the mustard seed of His life into the earth of our being, where it may grow into a fruitful Tree of Life.” (Leiva-Merikakis, E. Fire of Mercy, Heart of the Word: Meditations on the Gospel according to Saint Matthew, (Vol. 2, p. 587). San Francisco: Ignatius Press.).

On our own, we can do nothing. But with faith in God, “Nothing will be impossible for you.”

On our own, we are on our own. But with deep faith in God, we can be made new and filled with Life.

Let’s pray that the Spirit will breathe into us this kind of true, humble, loving faith, which will allow us to be transformed and enable us to do great and beautiful things for God.

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Today we hear Jesus’ explanation of the parable that was read at Mass on Saturday (Matt 24-30).

The Son of Man sows the good seed that is the “children of the Kingdom” (that’s us) in the field that is the world. Meanwhile, his enemy (and ours) sows his own seed, “the children of the Evil One,” in amongst the good seed. Why does the enemy do this anyway? Because the devil hates God but cannot attack God, he uses every possible means to wound God by attacking what God loves most: His Incarnate Son, and the members of His Body, the Church.

Does the enemy do this in broad daylight? No! The enemy always works in the dark, “while everyone was asleep.” This begs the question of whether the enemy would be ABLE to sow his wicked seeds IF THE CHURCH WERE AWAKE and ever vigilant! We can’t say. But we know that God allows the good and the bad to grow together, to give the good seed ample time to establish solid roots and adequate strength. And we can expand this parable to suggest that weeds and wheat can actually change one another somehow – wheat can be infected and become weedy, and weeds can absorb the light and life of wheat and be transformed. No one is definitively in one category or the other until “the end of the age”; until then, we must guard against absorbing the weed-ness around us and hope that every weed will ultimately be changed into wheat. We pray that with enough time, and nourishment, and the quiet miracle of grace that makes repentance and conversion possible, the weeds sown by the enemy to destroy the harvest will be transformed.

There is a cosmic battle going on, and we are part of it! This is no myth: God is real and Satan is real and we are really part of a battle being waged beyond our eyesight. St. Paul tells us to “put on the armor of God” because we are struggling “with the evil spirits in the heavens” (Eph. 6:11-13). But we do not say that there are two equal kingdoms in this battle – the devil is not equal to God. We do not say that the devil creates his own kingdom – he can create nothing. But the enemy works to vitiate God’s kingdom by fouling up what is good, true, and beautiful. He works furiously to spoil God’s work, but he is still God’s creature, only able to sneak around in the dark confusion doing what God allows for a greater good.

In the parable, the master shows no panic when the servants report the weeds. It’s almost as if he expected the enemy would sow them, and he planted the wheat anyway. This is the risk Love takes: knowing the hostility of the enemy and the fragile freedom of our will, God plants us into the Kingdom anyway. We must work to transform the weeds into wheat!

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I was on the edge of my Kindergarten seat, hoping to be called by the teacher to run the weekly errand of taking the attendance sheet to the Principal’s Office (which was practically next to our classroom). Why was this desirable? I think it was because only the reliable kids were entrusted with this task – the ones who would be certain to do just what they were given to do without childish dilly-dallying. The Friday that I was called, I was elated and couldn’t wait to get home to tell my mom.

Have you ever been chosen from a crowd to participate in the task of the moment in a particular way?

In today’s Gospel, Jesus chooses twelve men from among those who followed him as disciples. A disciple, or pupil/student, chooses which teacher to follow; an apostle is chosen by the teacher for a specific task. This reading from Matthew is the first time the word “apostle” is used in the Gospel, and these twelve specific men are identified. We can see them as very real people (identified by name), flesh and blood and fallenness (among them are a tax collector and a betrayer), men with family trees (they are brothers and sons), a band of men who knew each other and their idiosyncrasies. Men who had to respond to a special personal call of Jesus, and who were then sent to bear Jesus himself into the world.

This call comes in three parts: Jesus “summons” them to himself, he instructs them and gives them “authority over unclean spirits…and to cure every disease and every illness”, and he sends them out. His first sentence to his would-be followers (after his baptism in the Jordan) is: “Come, and see.” His final words on earth (just before his Ascension into Heaven) is: “Go and make disciples.” First, come and be with him; then, go out to others.

This is the nature of every call or vocation: we are called to Christ (in baptism and in successive “calls” through our lives), we are given a share in his own authority and power (through study and prayer and the sacraments), and we are sent forth for others. The gifts that we are given are not for ourselves only; they are given to us so that we can use them in service to others. In fact, like the Twelve Apostles and countless saints after them, we are called to pour ourselves out completely to fulfill this call – all twelve of them were martyred for remaining faithful to this call of Christ!

My five-year-old self only wanted to be called to do something special; there was not even an understanding of service to others. A Christian call is much deeper than this, demanding a commitment of our whole self to the cause of Christ, for God’s glory, our own good, and the good of others!

What is God calling you to today?

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“Stop judging, that you may not be judged. For as you judge, so will you be judged, and the measure with which you measure will be measured out to you.”

 Sometimes, this verse is misunderstood to mean that we cannot judge actions as right or wrong, and so to mean we must tolerate serious wrongdoing because “it’s none of my business.” And if we judge others we will be severely judged. But elsewhere, Jesus tells us to “judge with right judgment” (John 7:24). So, we CAN judge, but we shouldn’t?

 Sometimes, this is (more correctly) understood to mean that we can judge actions but not people. We should not condone sin, but we cannot condemn a sinner. This is certainly true, but where is love in this interpretation? Refusal to judge must be filled with genuine love for the other, and a desire for their good. A “parable” from Erasmus Leiva-Merikakis in his wonderful reflection on the Gospel of Matthew entitled Fire of Mercy, Heart of the Word (Ignatius Press) invites us to a subtler reflection on how we might apply these words to our lives:

 A beggar comes to my door asking for water to quench his thirst. I will not turn him away, because I fear some neighbor might observe my disdain. At the same time I do not consider the beggar worthy of touching with his lips more than the smallest tin cup in the house, which I quickly fill and brusquely hand him, so carelessly that half the cup spills. The cup is so small and mean, in fact, that I tell him to keep it. In reality, I don’t want to waste my time in such company.

 Much time—a whole lifetime—passes, and I find myself in the presence of Christ the King and Judge. I anxiously await my reward: I have always revered God, kept the commandments, observed the Lenten fasts, and celebrated the Church’s feasts with due solemnity. The King hands me back my tin cup, which I had long forgotten and certainly did not expect to see again in this eschatological setting. Seeing the look of dismay on my face, and with an infinite kindness in his voice that almost has the pleading tone of a beggar in it, Christ says to me: ‘I’m sorry, friend. Even I, the King, have no other cup to give you.’

Taking on ourselves the role of judge closes us up against all that the Lord wants to give us! It is not simply a fear of judgment that should align us with these words of Christ, but the awful truth that the capacity of our own hearts for love and forgiveness and God is constricted when we ignore them! To become “perfect as the heavenly Father is perfect,” we must share his loving and forgiving view of all of creation, particularly those we find difficult.

How can we see others through the lens of genuine love today?

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We’ve all heard the axioms about giving: Be generous. It’s better to give than receive. Do not let the right hand know what the left is doing. We must give of our time, talent, and treasure. 

And we do! We give gifts to others to celebrate special events. We donate to good causes. We buy the little trinkets or subscriptions or chocolate for our neighbor’s fundraiser. We contribute to our parish and diocese.

But HOW do we give? Do we give immediately and generously? Do we sacrifice our own time to do good to another? Do we give of our talents even without repayment or recognition? Do we give from our surplus only? Do we give only after we have secured our own retirement, or our own wants, or our own savings account? These are not bad things to do, but today’s readings make a point: TRUE GIVING is an act of love for another, and an act of trust that God will take care of us.

“A little with righteousness is better than abundance with wickedness,” Raphael tells Tobit and Tobiah. Would you leave your dinner to get cold while you did something for someone else? Giving up their dinner in order to bury the dead brought down the blessing of healing on Sarah. In the Gospel, the widow who gave from what she actually needed had given more than those who gave only from their excess. It was her complete trust in the Lord’s providence for her that allowed her to give what others might have held onto as “necessary” or even “prudent.” And she did it in secret: no one saw this but Jesus. This is in contrast to the Scribes Jesus warns about: those who give publicly for public recognition, those who make a show of their praying or doing or giving so that others will praise them for their “goodness.” It is not WHAT they give, but HOW they give it that makes the difference.

Essentially, if we give so that others will see our generosity, we make ourselves the recipient of our own “gift”! We are really doing it for our own benefit, and not only for the benefit of others, or for the Lord. But as today’s Communion Antiphon reminds us, “Whoever loses his life for My sake will find it in eternity” (Mt 10:39). We are called to “lay down our lives,” trusting in the Lord, by giving all we have and all we are in service and in praise to God.

Today, let’s sit with the Lord and look at our giving to make sure it aligns with His glorious invitation to us: to offer our time, talent, and treasure for the good of others, without mixing in the need for recognition and without putting ourselves ahead of our gift.

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