Catholicism, holiness and spirituality

It's all about connecting

As I read today's Gospel reading I had this flash of memory from when I was a young boy, singing with everyone else at Sunday Mass 'Whatsoever You Do'. Remember that song – 'whatsoever you do to the least of my brothers, that you do unto me'? It was sung slowly and solemnly; it was almost sad.

Well, I had four brothers, but I knew the song wasn't really talking about them. It was about Jesus telling people that whatever they did to those in need, they did to him. I didn't really get it though. You see, we never really reached out and helped those in need; at least, not that I can remember. Part of that, I think, was due to our German-American farming community – people just didn't ask for help like that. It seems like we all just sucked it up, put on our stoic faces, and plodded on.

When I got married, my in-laws' tradition didn't do much to contribute to the 'whatsoever you do' idea. For them, faith saved, not works. The whole focus was on finding that faith; serving others got all tangled up with the whole 'faith vs. works' thing that it seemed so prevalent in the Pentecostal movement those days.

But still, this Gospel reading from Matthew always seemed to speak to me when I heard it, even if I didn't translate it into action:

Then the virtuous will say to him in reply, “Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you; or thirsty and give you drink? When did we see you a stranger and make you welcome; naked and clothe you; sick or in prison and go to see you?” And the King will answer, “I tell you solemnly, in so far as you did this to one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did it to me.”

We had a neighbor two doors down in Tulsa – Mayme. She was widowed, without children, and probably in her late seventies, but spunky and as independent as she could be. That independence was evaporating, slowly at first and then rapidly. I remember offering to mow her lawn whenever I mowed mine, because I could see she was having a tough time. She offered to pay me, but I assured her it was no problem. More than keeping the lawn mowed, I think she just enjoyed the attention and conversation.

Over the next few years Mayme became more frail, and my wife and I became her good friends. She no longer drove, so we helped her with shopping. I did small repairs on her house, and my wife helped her out in the house. Mayme was really saddened when PJ died – her beloved Cocker Spaniel. About the same time as her health took a turn for the worse, we shared with her that we were expecting our first child. That was a very bright spot in her life; our joy was reflected through her smiles. I remember opening the front door for her for one of the baby showers, and remarking how good she looked – all dressed up, and with make-up on! Soon after that, Mayme entered a nursing home – on a temporary basis, she assured us.

The day after Nicholas was born, Mayme died alone at the nursing home. She had no family or friends in town, the closest relatives were hundreds of miles away. It was quite a mix of emotions – the birth of our son and the death of a good friend all at once.

Looking back at that now, I think I can see what Jesus was getting at – 'whatever you do to the least of these, you do to me'. The smiles, laughter, struggles, pain and hope that we shared with Mayme on a literal, physical level are one thing, but there's more to it that that. Those experiences – real live, interactive human experiences – helped us get in touch with, get closer to, the source of life in us both. And that source of life is Jesus. Serving others, being in solidarity with those in need, is a way to nurture our relationship with Jesus.

You don't nurture that relationship by giving money to the poor, by voting for change, or lobbying for this or that. Those can all be good things that God calls us to do, but there's more. Connecting with and serving people in need is, I think, what Jesus is calling us to do through this Gospel story. As we do that and make those connections, we get to know Jesus.

Talents and distance

What is it in our lives that keeps us from getting closer to God? What's in that space between us and God? There are all sorts of theological answers, I suppose, but theology is not the answer here. The answer lies within each of us – is it fear, or is it laziness? Is it our self-loathing, or is it mistrust? Maybe it is doubt and cynicism born from the failures of the past. Or maybe we're just tired of making the effort. I think that distance is unique to each of us, and it relates directly to today's Gospel reading.

Today's Gospel is the one that motivates Type A's and disheartens Type B's. It's great to hear it when you feel good about your walk with God, and it can be depressing when you're feeling down. It's the one about the master who leaves, giving each of his three servants some money – talents. Two of the servants do things to increase the amount of money they can give back to the master, while the third is afraid of losing it and simply hides it until the master's return. When the master returns he rewards the two who increased his money, and punished the one who hid the money.

So what's the lesson here? If we don't do something with our talents then God will punish us? What happened to God's unconditional love? I think the lesson is different.

The third servant was afraid of what would happen if he lost the money, and that fear is what kept him distant from the master. Fear is what was in that distance between him and God. That distance is both a result of our separation from God and and an obstacle that keeps us from living our lives in ways that bring us closer to God. And the more we are distant from God, the worse it feels. What is going to tip that balance?

Faith, grace, something that we can recognize and know that God is with us - something small like that can be the grain of sand that tips the balance, that turns us from the downward spiral to an upward one. When those moments come, we need to take a small step outside our comfort zone, and turn them into something positive. As we do that, I think we will get to know God better and whatever keeps us distant will disappear.