Spiritus Sanctus

Tuesday of Week 8 in Ordinary Time (Year I)
Ecclesiasticus 35:2-15 | Psalm 49(50):5-8,14,23 | Mark 10:28-31

At that time Peter began to tell Jesus, ‘What about us? We have left everything and followed you.’ (Mark 10:28)

To put this in context, Jesus had just claimed that “it’s impossible for man to save himself, but with God, everything is possible.” (Mark 10:27)

It must have been a very disturbed Peter who made this outburst, as would any loyal subordinate in this day and age who followed his CEO through thick and thin, only to discover that their latest startup on which they’d bet their fortunes was doomed to failure.

Sometimes, in the dead of night, when I find myself sitting at my computer for hours on end, having an idea for the next day’s blog but not the right words to go with it, I too wonder if all this is worth it. Surely my time could be better spent on my money-making projects – at least, I’ve had others tell me this repeatedly.

But then I soldier on, compelled by something yet unseen, and console myself with the thought that I couldn’t be productive in my work at this hour anyway. Every time I’ve ever written code in the dead of night, it turned out to be confused and full of bugs in the harsh light of the next day.

And so, just before Lent begins, I’ll keep doing what I’ve done for the last 10 months: Leave everything secular behind for a few hours, and follows Jesus through scripture wherever He chooses to lead me.

Amen.

Monday of Week 8 in Ordinary Time (Year I)
Ecclesiasticus 17:20-28 | Psalm 31(32):1-2,5-7 | Mark 10:17-27

Jesus was setting out on a journey when a man ran up, knelt before him and put this question to him, ‘Good master, what must I do to inherit eternal life?’ Jesus said to him, ‘Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone.’ (Mark 10:17-18)

Previously, every time I read this passage, I got the impression that Jesus was rebuking the man, “How dare you call me good! No one is good but God alone, you hear me? NO ONE!”

But then, of course, Jesus had never denied His own Godhood in scripture. He only forbade those who knew (including the demons He cast out) from telling others before the time had arrived to meet His Passion.

So now I read this passage in a different light:

Why do you call me “good”? Are you just being polite? Or do you see something in Me that inspires you? Perhaps your subconscious is telling you something that your waking mind can’t fathom; that I am indeed your God. Come, follow My way, help others while on your own journey, and you shall have eternal life.

And it reminded me of a young woman I saw on the bus to church yesterday morning, standing in the center section of the bus when the driver stopped for an inordinate amount of time. It took me a while to notice that he was struggling alongside a foreign maid to push a heavy-set old woman in a wheelchair up the rear entry ramp.

And then I noticed that the young woman had also stepped forward to help pull the wheelchair up from inside the bus, while precariously holding on to a large laptop case in one hand, and a backpack slung on her opposite shoulder. Clearly, it was difficult for her to render assistance without dropping one or both of her possessions, yet she grimly continued pulling on the wheelchair with her free hand, until it finally rolled up the ramp.

It took me that long to realize that I could’ve dumped my own heavy backpack on my seat and moved to help.

A few stops later, I saw her alight at a Christian church along the way.

I’d like to think that if I’d complimented her, she would’ve replied, ‘Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone.’

And in the meantime, I’ll need to work on my reaction time to any “call to goodness”.

Lord, make me a means of Your goodness. Imbue me with the fire of the Holy Spirit, the eagerness to help others in their difficulties, without hesitation borne of personal comfort. Amen.

8th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year A)
Isaiah 49:14-15 | Psalm 61(62):2-3,6-9 | Matthew 6:24-34

Zion was saying, ‘The Lord has abandoned me,
the Lord has forgotten me.’ (Isaiah 49:14)

The above passage reminded me of a discussion I had with my old friend on the subject of helicopters. I’d learned that main rotor of some helicopters is secured to the aircraft by a single huge retaining nut, like this one:

If this nut fails, or otherwise “abandons” the main body, the rotor blades will continue their upward trajectory for a while, but we in the helicopter immediately plunge down to earth, calling out to our Lord and Saviour all the way.

It’s no wonder, then, that aviation folks call this the Jesus nut.

✞ ✞ ✞ ✞ ✞

Our choir had an interesting if all-too-brief recollection session yesterday. Besides learning about the distinction between a disciple and a volunteer, I finally have a name for all this blogging I’ve been doing over the last 10 months: Lectio Divina, or at least a primitive version thereof.

A stray thought struck me, as Fr. Cornelius led us through an abbreviated version of LD: I think I’m addicted to this. I think I’m nuts about Jesus!

I honestly don’t think I can stop this daily “Jesus chase” of my own volition. Every day, on the bus or train ride home, I instinctively flip to the next day’s scripture, read through it, and ponder it all the way home, while watching the people around me with peripheral interest. Sometimes, their antics light the flame of an idea within me.

Or perhaps the day’s activities strike inspiration over dinner, or in the shower, or dropping a load in the ceramic throne, or while watching the nightly news.

Regardless, within those last few hours of each day, some thought about the Word of God will inevitably flash through my brain, and form the basis of the next day’s “journal” entry.

If Jesus were a young woman, I’d probably be accused of being creepy at minimum, and potentially be arrested for stalking. At least I know He’ll never forget me (Isaiah 49:15).

And like St. Paul, I won’t bother passing judgement on my own worthiness (1 Corinthians 4:3), since I know it’ll come sooner rather than later.

But (please excuse the censored swearing) G-dd–nit I want to be with Jesus!

Is that weird?

Amen.

Saturday of Week 7 in Ordinary Time (Year I)
Ecclesiasticus 17:1-13 | Psalm 102(103):13-18 | Mark 10:13-16

“I tell you solemnly, anyone who does not welcome the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.”  (Mark 10:15)

This entry will be short, as I have to wake up early to make it to our choir retreat. It’s way too early for me to be running around on a Saturday morning, but I have a good feeling about this, and I’m trying to welcome the prospect of faith renewal like a little child.

Or, in the almost-words of Major Lloyd Williams:

Retreat, heck! I just got here!

Amen.