Lin Wilder's Blog, page 3
May 17, 2025
A Lost Lamb and The Good Shepherd
Rescued by the Shepherd: A Life-Changing Encounter in the WoodsA Lost Lamb and The Good ShepherdI wrote the following piece almost ten years ago. When it suddenly popped up mid-last week, I read it, and the memories of that hike flooded back. I decided its content contains essential lessons for this past Sunday’s Feast of the Good Shepherd:
The lone lamb suddenly appeared in the brush and then raced into the high desert running as fast as she could, both dogs close to her heels. Startled and worried, I began to holler for the dogs to return, for I thought the huge herd of sheep must still be up in the mountains where the dogs and I hike several times per week.
When we first moved to northern Nevada, we were warned about the perils of chasing sheep or cattle; our dogs could justifiably be shot in this open pasture country of the High Sierras. After finally corralling the dogs, I descended as rapidly as possible. But relaxed when I saw the shepherd driving the truck back up to his former campsite to retrieve his tiny RV and trailer it to the herds’ new destination.
He stopped only because I was standing in the middle of the dirt road and he could not drive around me, the road is too narrow.
Attempt at conversationReluctantly, he rolled down the window of his truck.
These shepherds are usually from Peru or Ecuador and speak very little English, so I knew to use short phrases and gestures about the lost sheep, pointing to the Border Collie standing in the back of the truck. I told him about the lamb, where I had seen her, that she’d led my dogs away from the grasses of the stream and asked that he and his dog please find her.
“She has a baby” was all he said to my increasingly desperate attempts to persuade him to rescue her.
Finally, I gave up and nodded. “You’re going to leave them there.“
But I couldn’t stop thinking of that lamb, alone with a baby, up there, surrounded by predators. How could she survive the night? Amidst hungry coyotes, bears, and mountain lions looking for food to feed their young? Before turning into our driveway, I glanced across our dirt street and saw a neighbor with his young children working in their yard. I’ve seen some chickens around their place, maybe….
I hurried over with both panting dogs behind me and said, “Hi there! Can I talk to you?”
“Sure, what’s up?”
Although we’d never met, my neighbor was friendly. He listened intently as I explained my fear for this new sheep mom and her baby up in the mountain. Then he grinned at his little girl and boy, who stood quietly listening.
“Come on, let’s go find them!”
He waved at me the next day as I walked by his house with the dogs. Pointing to the lamb and her baby, enclosed in fencing, he shouted,
“We found them!”
Sheep are known to be fearful.I have been told they can die of fright; their need to be part of the herd is deep and powerful. And yet this female chose isolation in dangerous territory over abandoning her baby. Moreover, she successfully diverted the attention of my dogs to lure them away from her baby. This was not the image I had ever been taught about sheep: courageous, defenseless, but willing to fight to risk her life for that of her baby.
In those mostly silent thirty years of His life with Mary, Jesus must have known shepherds and come to understand their obligations. Likely, Jesus witnessed their actions and saw firsthand the choices that had to be made for the sake of the entire herd. Our Lord understands that the notion of a peaceful, meek shepherd is a fiction. These men must be prepared to fight off fearsome predators. And yet they had no standing in Israeli society. Consider David’s response to Saul when the King doubted his strength and courage. The boy was, after all, a ‘mere shepherd’.
Thy servant kept his father’s herds at pasture and often a lion or bear came and snatched a lamb from the midst of it; and I went out after him and struck him, and took the animal from his mouth.
How great must Jesus’ love for shepherds be?
Infinite because it was to the shepherds that the miracle of Jesus’ birth was revealed. Celestial music was unheard by rulers, religious people, and influential people in the land. Still, the shepherds heard it and were directed to the cave to worship the infant Lord of the Universe.
Indeed,Suppose one of you had a hundred sheep and lost one. Wouldn’t you leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the lost one until you found it? When found, you can be sure you would put it across your shoulders, rejoicing, and when you got home, call in your friends and neighbors, saying, ‘Celebrate with me! I’ve found my lost sheep!’
Our Lord must also have appreciated the practicalities of the lone man entrusted with the lives of eight hundred or two thousand sheep. Jesus was well aware that the shepherd had no choice. He must leave behind the female who stays with her brand-new baby lamb. His words on this Feast of the Good Shepherd are worthy of wonder…of awe. They offer us profound consolation despite our fears, our illness, our doubts:
My sheep hear my voice; I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish. No one can take them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all, and no one can take them out of the Father’s hand…
Christ, the Good Shepherd, does what he knows is impossible for us. Christ leaves his flock to search for the one who has strayed. Grace saved the new mother who stayed to protect her infant.
And it is Grace that saves you.
And me.
Be not afraid, I am with you until the end of time.
Jesus The Good Shepherd, Jesus and lambs.The post A Lost Lamb and The Good Shepherd appeared first on Lin Weeks Wilder.
May 10, 2025
The God-Hero and Our Battles
The God-Hero and our battles
On shoulders men bore me there, then fixed me on hill;
fiends enough fastened me. Then saw I mankind’s Lord
come with great courage when he would mount on me.
Then dared I not against the Lord’s word
bend or break, when I saw earth’s
fields shake. All fiends
I could have felled, but I stood fast.
The young hero stripped himself–he, God Almighty–
strong and stout-minded. He mounted high gallows,
bold before many, when he would loose mankind.
I shook when that Man clasped me...
The Resurrection stained glass window hangs high in the Co-Cathedral of the Sacred Heart bell tower, facing downtown Houston. Although I wrote about the poem and the window years ago, the God-Hero and our battles have occupied my psyche during this third week of Easter. This astounding depiction of the Resurrected Jesus hovers over the fourth-largest city in the country, blessing and calling to its citizens.
“Come to Me, I Am Who Am!”
Photo credit: https://fmgdesign.com/uds-portfolio/co-cathedral-of-the-sacred-heart-houston-texas.
Why can’t I get the ancient poem and image of the Resurrected Jesus out of my head?
For two reasons.
That anonymous Anglo-Saxon poet who wrote in the ninth century speaks to our twenty-first-century hearts. He belonged to a warring culture, much like ours in that respect. But vastly different because he knew who the heroes were. Warriors were the heroes in his culture of sudden death, pillaging, and unjust rulers. And so his Jesus is no powerless, oppressed man.
No!
The young hero stripped himself–he, God Almighty–
strong and stout-minded. He mounted high gallows,
bold before many, when he would loose mankind.
Jesus is a warrior, come to fight to the death for my soul.
And for yours.
The poet wrote about a dream in which he was the ‘person’ of the tree upon which Jesus was crucified. He meditates on his privilege of being chosen from the beginning of time.
Hear while I tell about the best of dreams
Which came to me the middle of one night
While humankind were sleeping in their beds.
It was as though I saw a wondrous tree
Towering in the sky suffused with light,
Brightest of beams; and all that beacon was
Covered with gold. The corners of the earth
Gleamed with fair jewels, just as there were five
Upon the cross-beam. Many bands of angels,
Fair throughout all eternity, looked on.
No felon’s gallows that, but holy spirits,
Mankind, and all this marvellous creation,
Gazed on the glorious tree of victory.
And I with sins was stained, wounded with guilt.
I saw the tree of glory brightly shine
In gorgeous clothing, all bedecked with gold
…a rood I was raised up; and I held high
The noble King, the Lord of heaven above.
I dared not stoop. They pierced me with dark nails;
The scars can still be clearly seen on me,
The open wounds of malice. yet might I
Not harm them. They reviled us both together.
I was made wet all over with the blood
Which poured out from his side, after He had Sent forth His spirit. And I underwent
Full many a dire experience on that hill.
I saw the God of hosts stretched grimly out.
Darkness covered the Ruler’s corpse with clouds
His shining beauty; shadows passed across,
Black in the darkness. All creation wept,
Gazing at the window, we can feel the Glory of this Resurrected Jesus: the Word, who became flesh and lived among us so that he could die.
Daily, we prepare for combat.
In the second hour in Gethsemane, all sins from all times, past, present and future,
present themselves before Jesus, and He loads upon Himself all these sins to give complete
Glory to the Father. So, Jesus Christ Expiated, Prayed, and felt all our moods in His Heart
without ever ceasing to Pray.
The Twenty-Four Hours of the Passion of Christ
The second reason I ponder the God-Hero and our battles is this. We Benedictine Oblates began rereading The Rule of Benedict on Tuesday. We spent last week meditating on St. Benedict’s magnificent Prologue. Saint Benedict explicitly lists the battles we must gird ourselves for when we decide to follow Christ.
L I S T E N carefully, my child, to your master’s precepts, and incline the ear of your heart (Prov. 4:20). Receive willingly and carry out effectively your loving father’s advice, that by the labor of obedience you may return to Him from whom you had departed by the sloth of disobedience.
To you, therefore, my words are now addressed, whoever you may be, who are renouncing your own will to do battle under the Lord Christ, the true King, and are taking up the strong, bright weapons of obedience.
…the Lord is waiting every day for us to respond by our deeds to His holy admonitions. And the days of this life are lengthened and a truce granted us for this very reason, that we may amend our evil ways. As the Apostle says, “Do you not know that God’s patience is inviting you to repent” (Rom. 2:4)? For the merciful Lord tells us, “I desire not the death of the sinner, but that the sinner should be converted and live” (Ezech. 33:11).
…And so we are going to establish a school for the service of the Lord…For as we advance in the religious life and in faith, our hearts expand and we run the way of God’s commandments with unspeakable sweetness of love. Thus, never departing from His school,…we may by patience share in the sufferings of Christ (1 Peter 4:13) and deserve to have a share also in His kingdom.
.
Obedience.
Obedience: that lightning rod of a word underlies everything.
Maybe it’s easier for former atheists like me to grasp the need for ongoing conversion: Conversion as in repentance-rethinking. Especially so for those of us whose faith did not just become lukewarm, but we who decided that it was all a myth: the Bible, theology, God. We know what living without God means; we’ve nearly drowned in godlessness.
As a brand-new Benedictine Oblate, I remember being fascinated by the word stability. Axiomatic of Benedictine spirituality it is a promise we make when we make our oblation. The word connotes stasis…an inner permanence despite external turbulence. We vow to stay put, regardless of what happens in our marriage, body, or family.
To many in this change-loving culture of ours, this concept of permanence, of a changeless inner core, evokes constraint, regulation-lack of freedom, even that word we see everywhere: slavery. But I’ve learned that it is when I am most uncomfortable, even frightened, that if I stick there, accept the anxiety of all of it…that the view from the other side is breath-taking.
Only if, I look through His Spirit…desiring only His Will.
O Lord, Master of my life, grant that I may not be infected with the spirit of slothfulness and inquisitiveness, with the spirit of ambition and vain talking. Lord and King, grant me the grace of being aware of my sins and not thinking of the evil of others.
Saint Ephrem of Syria
The post The God-Hero and Our Battles appeared first on Lin Weeks Wilder.
May 3, 2025
Why Are We commanded to Love?
Why are we commanded to love?
“Christ did not love humanity, He never said He loved humanity; He loved men. Neither He nor anyone else can love humanity; it is like loving a gigantic centipede.”)[2] Why do we need Christ and his difficult command to love? Because we are fallen. (This stance was nicely summed up by Rúben Gallo who wrote: “Human beings, regardless of gender, race, social class, or nationality, are invariably selfish, cruel, and corrupt.”[3] Gallo’s statement is the truth of the liberal-humanist motto: “All humans, independently of their sex, race, religion and wealth, share the same rights to freedom and dignity.” This fallenness is why Raffaele Nogaro, bishop emeritus of Caserta, is right to claim that Christ’s words on the cross “Father, why have you abandoned me?” are “L’affermazione del fallimento di ogni vita cosciente e responsabile” [an affirmation of the failure of every conscious and responsible life].) Are we not utopian here?
We know this. After all. We read and hear it from Jesus, over and over again. “Love one another…love your enemies…love one another as I have loved you.” And yet, until reading this piece, I’d not considered the particularity of the command. Or the inherent violence of Christ’s words. By that, I mean the distortion made by those of us who force Christianity into religious categories by correlating it with all others, like Buddhism. It isn’t difficult to proclaim a love for humanity. We hear and see that generic love expressed by humanists/activists proclaiming a vast variety of causes, ranging from climate change to population control.
Loving the person who lives next door, with her constant barking dogs, the unwashed parishioner sitting next to us on the pew or the boss who fired us, is vastly different.
I know nothing about love.
Love desires personality; therefore love desires division. It is the instinct of Christianity to be glad that God has broken the universe into little pieces…. This is the intellectual abyss between Buddhism and Christianity; that for the Buddhist or Theosophist personality is the fall of man, for the Christian it is the purpose of God, the whole point of his cosmic idea. The worldsoul of the Theosophists asks man to love it only in order that man may throw himself into it. But the divine centre of Christianity actually threw man out of it in order that he might love it…. All modern philosophies are chains which connect and fetter; Christianity is a sword which separates and sets free. No other philosophy makes God actually rejoice in the separation of the universe into living souls.[6]
Not long after my conversion, I sat in the empty church, staring at the crucifix. The priest approached to ask if I was okay. I replied, “I know nothing about love,” with tears in my eyes. More than two decades have passed since that conversation, and I now understand “why are we commanded to love?’ at every level of my being.
Because love is what he is. ‘He must increase, I must decrease.”
I mean, of course, the love Jesus commands of us. Not the coffee I love, my husband, or my dog, but the person put in front of me. The one who cuts in front of me in line or traffic. Or the politician proclaiming evil while professing her love of Catholicism. There can be no exclusions.
My online friend Janet Klasson recently wrote a post about our baptismal anointing. It’s an anointing renewed on the second Sunday of Easter, the Feast of Divine Mercy. Janet writes:
What does that mean?
‘The baptized have become “living stones” to be “built into a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood.” (2 Pet 2:5) By Baptism they share in the priesthood of Christ, in his prophetic and royal mission. They are “a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, that [they] may declare the wonderful deeds of him who called [them] out of darkness into his marvelous light (2 Pet 2:9).” Baptism gives a share in the common priesthood of all believers.’ (Catechism of the Catholic Church, #1268)
Moreover, I was amazed to find in this passage the exact words I had felt the Lord speak to my heart the day before: “I have called you out of darkness into my own wonderful light.”
We baptized are kings, prophets, and priests?
Really?
The Lord Jesus, the divine Teacher and Model of all perfection, preached holiness of life to each and everyone of His disciples of every condition. He Himself stands as the author and consumator of this holiness of life: “Be you therefore perfect, even as your heavenly Father is perfect”.(216)(2*) Indeed He sent the Holy Spirit upon all men that He might move them inwardly to love God with their whole heart and their whole soul, with all their mind and all their strength(217) and that they might love each other as Christ loves them.(218) The followers of Christ are called by God, not because of their works, but according to His own purpose and grace. They are justified in the Lord Jesus, because in the baptism of faith they truly become sons of God and sharers in the divine nature. In this way they are really made holy. Then too, by God’s gift, they must hold on to and complete in their lives this holiness they have received. They are warned by the Apostle to live “as becomes saints”,(219) and to put on “as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved a heart of mercy, kindness, humility, meekness, patience”,(220) and to possess the fruit of the Spirit in holiness.(221) Since truly we all offend in many things (222) we all need God’s mercies continually and we all must daily pray: “Forgive us our debts”(223)(3*)
But how do we do this?
We who sin with almost every thought?
And whose faith flickers with the merest breeze?
We grasp for Jesus, accept our poverty and our nothingness, and have confidence, not in ourselves but in Jesus, who waits for us to ask and beg for mercy.
A new pope?
“C’est la confiance et rien que la confiance qui doit nous conduire à l’Amour”….
“It is confidence and nothing but confidence that must lead us to Love”. The specific contribution that Therese offers us as a saint and a Doctor of the Church is not analytical, along the lines, for example, of Saint Thomas Aquinas. Her contribution is more synthetic, for her genius consists in leading us to what is central, essential and indispensable. By her words and her personal experience she shows that, while it is true that all the Church’s teachings and rules have their importance, their value, their clarity, some are more urgent and more foundational for the Christian life. That is where Therese directed her eyes and her heart.
50. As theologians, moralists and spiritual writers, as pastors and as believers, wherever we find ourselves, we need constantly to appropriate this insight of Therese and to draw from it consequences both theoretical and practical, doctrinal and pastoral, personal and communal. We need boldness and interior freedom to do so.
C’est la Confiance
Like wildfire, the opinions escalate: these characteristics are critical for the next pope.
“Listen to me!”
“Here is the man we need!”
But the next Holy Father requires only one attribute: faith in the Holy Name of Jesus. Hence, desiring his will, eschewing the world and all its empty promises.
The post Why Are We commanded to Love? appeared first on Lin Weeks Wilder.
April 26, 2025
Arsonist of the Heart
Arsonist of the heartis the last line of a poem by theologian-poet John Shea about the road to Emmaus. Shea’s reflection on the liturgical Gospel reading for Wednesday compels more than a cursory read of the too-familiar Gospel passage about Jesus’ disciples who have decided to get out of town: the road to Emmaus. What happened to Jesus, their Rabboni, Messiah, was more devastating than our sanitized twenty-first-century minds can conceive of. And so they do what we all do when things get too awful: we run from Jesus.
The poet Shea compresses whole volumes of theology and a profound understanding of our sick, weak, and faithless human heart:
At one time or another, we take that road
“On the road that escapes Jerusalem
and winds along the ridge to Emmaus
two disillusioned youths
drag home their crucified dream.
“They had smelled messiah in the air
and rose to the scarred and ancient hope
only to mourn what might have been.
And now a sudden stranger falls upon their loss
with excited words about mustard seeds
and surprises hidden at the heart of death
and that evil must be kissed upon the lips
and that every scream is redeemed for it echoes
in the ear of God and do you not understand
what died upon the cross was fear.
“They protested their right to despair but he said,
‘My Father’s laughter fills the silence of the tomb.’
Because they did not understand, they offered him food.
And in the breaking of the bread
they knew the impostor for who he was –
the arsonist of the heart.”
–The Hour of the Unexpected from Ron Rolheise
That road that escapes Jerusalem. The poet’s phrases sear:
carrying our crucified dreams;
we must kiss evil on the lips.
When we need salvation most, we seek escape from him. We surely do not practice John Shea’s declaration, “what died on the cross was fear, “even us believing Christians. And so, our ancient enemy uses the vast array of resources to fuel that fear. Unfortunately, many of us inhale the “terror on all sides” with each breaking news day.
Can we imagine the reaction of the disciples when he appeared three days after they watched that horrifying spectacle of his capture, torture, and crucifixion? Each had professed their undying fidelity to the Lord at the last supper. But once the soldiers came and Jesus commanded them to put their swords away, they watched helplessly.
And ran.
The eleven were hiding, terrified of being discovered by the Jewish authorities, when Jesus appeared through the locked door.
Imagine their shame when seeing this resurrected Jesus?
But their Lord’s first words were of peace: Shalom.
Witnesses of these thingsThe disciples of Jesus recounted what had taken place along the way,
and how they had come to recognize him in the breaking of bread.
While they were still speaking about this,
he stood in their midst and said to them,
“Peace be with you.”
But they were startled and terrified
and thought that they were seeing a ghost.
Then he said to them, “Why are you troubled?
And why do questions arise in your hearts?
Look at my hands and my feet, that it is I myself.
Touch me and see, because a ghost does not have flesh and bones
as you can see I have.”
And as he said this,
he showed them his hands and his feet.
While they were still incredulous for joy and were amazed,
he asked them, “Have you anything here to eat?”
They gave him a piece of baked fish;
he took it and ate it in front of them.
He said to them,
“These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you,
that everything written about me in the law of Moses
and in the prophets and psalms must be fulfilled.”
Then he opened their minds to understand the Scriptures.
And he said to them,
“Thus it is written that the Christ would suffer
and rise from the dead on the third day
and that repentance, for the forgiveness of sins,
would be preached in his name
to all the nations, beginning from Jerusalem.
You are witnesses of these things.”
Pope Francis’ death has galvanized hundreds, maybe thousands, of articles, interviews, podcasts, and videos. National Catholic Register was one of the few I read in its entirety. Monsignor Roger Landry’s allusion to El Jesuita‘s quote from Pope Francis leaped off the page, “For me,” he said, “feeling oneself a sinner is one of the most beautiful things that can happen, if it leads to its ultimate consequences. … When a person becomes conscious that he is a sinner and is saved by Jesus … he discovers the greatest thing in life, that there is someone who loves him profoundly, who gave his life for him.”
He lamented that many Catholics have sadly not had this fundamental Christian experience: “There are people who believe the right things, who have received catechesis and accepted the Christian faith in some way, but who do not have the experience of having been saved … and who therefore lack the experience of who they are. I believe that only we great sinners have this grace.”
The book is not easy to find. Only after a lengthy online search did I locate it because of the title change. This is an eminently readable and surprisingly practical “conversation” between Rabbi Sergio Rubin and the Argentinian Cardinal Jorge Bergoglio.
When asked about the Catholic obsession with bloody death, the soon-to-be Pope Francis remarked on the modern narrow use of the word, martyr.
We should clarify something: to speak of martyrs means speaking of people who bore witness until the end, until their death. To say that “my life is a martyrdom” should mean “my life is testimony.” But nowadays, the idea has become associated with the gruesome. Nevertheless, for some witnesses, the word becomes synonymous during their final stretch of life with giving one’s life to faith. The term, if you’ll forgive me the expression, has been belittled. Christian life is bearing witness with cheerfulness, as Jesus did. Saint Thérèse of Lisieux said that a sad saint is a holy sadness.
Pope Francis: Conversations with Jorge Bergoglio: His Life in His Own Words .
It’s a lengthy interview replete with pithy maxims the Holy Father has learned over the years, like “travel with patience.” By reaching the limit,” he adds, “by confronting the limit, patience is forged. Sometimes life forces us not to ‘make,’ but to ‘suffer,’ enduring—from the Greek ypomeno—our own limitations as well as the limitations of others. Traveling with patience,” he explains, “is knowing that what matures is time. Traveling with patience is allowing time to rule and shape our lives…To travel in patience means accepting that life is a continuous learning experience.”
They knew the imposterfor who he was: the arsonist of the heart.
And this “everything” that is the risen Christ opens our life to hope. He is alive, he still wants to renew our life today. To him, conqueror of sin and death, we want to say:
“Lord, on this feast day we ask you for this gift: that we too may be made new, so as to experience this eternal newness. Cleanse us, O God, from the sad dust of habit, tiredness and indifference; give us the joy of waking every morning with wonder, with eyes ready to see the new colours of this morning, unique and unlike any other. […] Everything is new, Lord, and nothing is the same, nothing is old” (A. Zarri, Quasi una preghiera).
Sisters, brothers, in the wonder of the Easter faith, carrying in our hearts every expectation of peace and liberation, we can say: with You, O Lord, everything is new. With you, everything begins again.
Pope Francis Easter Message 2025
The post Arsonist of the Heart appeared first on Lin Weeks Wilder.
April 19, 2025
Holy Saturday: Silence and Triumph
Holy Saturday: silence and triumph
Over six weeks ago, we began what felt like an endurance test of penances: a Great Fast, intense prayer, spiritual reading, and almsgiving. The strangeness of time, the suddenness with which it’s over, startles. It makes us pause in wonder and awe at today’s silence: Holy Saturday.
After their one Lenten meal, monastics nightly practice the great silence. After the last prayer, the monks retire and speak no word until awakening to the next new day. Their rest is more than practical. Father Steve Grunow writes: “But deeper than this, the great silence is not just a time of rest, of passivity, but the time where, while human labor ceases, God remains active and working, though unseen and most often unheard, speaking in the stillness with the eloquence of his Eternal Word. The monks rest, knowing that God in the great silence abides.”
Just so, our churches are silent. Mass has been prohibited since Good Friday, the tabernacles emptied of our precious Lord and we faithful ponder the incomprehensibility of Jesus’ descent into hell.
Did not our century mark the start of one long Holy Saturday, the day God was absent, when even the hearts of the disciples were plunged into an icy chasm that grows wider and wider, and thus, filled with shame and anguish, they set out to go home, dark-spirited and annihilated in their desperation they head for Emmaus, without realizing that he whom they believed to be dead is in their midst? God is dead and we killed him: are we really aware that this phrase is taken almost literally from Christian tradition and that often in our viae crucis we have made something similar resound without realizing the tremendous gravity of what we said? We killed him, by enclosing him in the stale shell of routine thinking…
…only through the failure of Holy Friday, only through the silence of death of Holy Saturday, were the disciples able to be led to an understanding of all that Jesus truly was and all that his message truly meant. God had to die for them so that he could truly live in them. The image they had formed of God, within which they had tried to hold him down, had to be destroyed so that through the rubble of the ruined house they might see the sky, him himself who remains, always, the infinitely greater. We need the silence of God to experience again the abyss of his greatness and the chasm of our nothingness which would grow wider and wider without him…
And so we wonder at the strangeness of these last forty days:
” Six weeks contains many hours- 1008 of them: did I use that time as well as possible?”
“Were the fruits of the fasting more than merely looser clothing?”
“Did I do enough?”
Although I know I can never do enough, and that all successful penances are due to grace, I ask anyway.
When pondering this Holy Saturday, of where Jesus went and what he was doing, our ignorance is vast. The future Pope Benedict, Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, declares, “But even if Holy Saturday has drawn deeply near to us in that way…a question remains unresolved – that of knowing what is really meant by the mysterious phrase that Jesus “descended into hell”. Let’s be clear about it: no one is really capable of explaining it…”
Moreover, it is impossible for citizens of the 21st century to comprehend the extent of the degradation, indignity and complete extinction of a person through ancient Roman crucifixion. Father John Riccardo explains:
“Crucifixion as a means of execution in the Roman Empire had as its express purpose the elimination of victims from consideration as members of the human race. It cannot be said too strongly: that was its function. It was meant to indicate to all who might be toying with subversive ideas that crucified persons were not of the same species as either the executioners or the spectators and were therefore not only expendable but also deserving of ritualized extermination.
“Therefore, the mocking and jeering that accompanied crucifixion were not only allowed, they were part of the spectacle and were programmed into it. In a sense, crucifixion was a form of entertainment. Everyone understood that the specific role of the passersby was to exacerbate the dehumanization and degradation of the person who had been thus designated to be a spectacle. Crucifixion was cleverly designed—we might say diabolically designed—to be an almost theatrical enactment of the sadistic and inhumane impulses that lie within human beings.
“Victims of crucifixion lived on their crosses for periods varying from three or four hours to three or four days…
“Death could not devour our Lord unless He possessed a body, neither could hell swallow Him up unless He bore our flesh; and so He came in search of a chariot in which to ride to the underworld. This chariot was the body which He received from the Virgin; in it He invaded death’s fortress, broke open its strong-room and scattered all its treasure!”
And He did all of this for us.
Triumph of the cross
Surrealist Salvidor Dali’s magnificent Christ of St. John of the Cross was created after the artist’s return to the Catholicism of his youth. Dali discovered the writings of Saint John of the Cross along with a sketched image the saint saw in a vision. Saint John of the Cross’ pencilled drawing showed the crucified Christ from above, from the perspective of God the Father.
The greatest sinner may now be saved; the blackest sin may now be blotted out; the clenched fist may now be opened; the unforgivable may now be forgiven. While they were most certain that they knew what they were doing, He seizes upon the only possible palliation of their crime and ignorance—“they know not what they do.” If they did know what they were doing as they fastened Love to a tree, and still went on doing it, they would never be saved. They would be damned.
It is only because fists are clenched in ignorance that they may yet be opened into folded hands; it is only because tongues blaspheme in ignorance that they may yet speak in prayer. It is not their conscious wisdom that saves them; it is their unconscious ignorance.
The Cries of Jesus from the Cross
Saint John of the Cross’ image inspired Dali to create his cosmic Christ. Instead of the saint’s image of the excruciatingly ruined body of Christ, Dali’s painting expresses the Lord of Creation and his triumph over death. Dali’s absence of nails, the perfected body of Christ magnificently reveals the Triumph of the Cross: He has conquered death for all of humanity and his creation.
What better way to break the silence?
Samuel Barber’s Agnus Dei.
The post Holy Saturday: Silence and Triumph appeared first on Lin Weeks Wilder.
April 13, 2025
Faces of the Human Heart
Faces of the human heartThis image magnifies two faces of the human heart in Lucas Cranach’s painting, Christ and the Adulteress, found in Bishop Erik Varden’s piece, 5 Sunday of Lent. Front and center we see one face with a terrible, smug smile and a large sharp rock at the ready in his right hand. His eagerness to hurl it into soft flesh leaps off the painting. This face personifies libido dominandi: that chilling phrase of Saint Augustine’s:
This lust for domination, as what drives life—or more accurately from Augustine’s view, destroys it—is motivated by service to the self and want to control everything: control what is good, control what is “fact” or “true”, control how others behave, control who receives laurels and praise, and so forth. This lust for domination runs counter to the ethic of service of others (love of others). The libido dominandi is tied to the incurvatus in se (inward curve to the self) for the lust for domination is all about the self: The self’s want for domination of the world and all in it.
Contrast that terrible face with the taller white-haired one on the right. His is a face that radiates restraint, self-control and freedom from judgement. In fact, his right arm and palm are raised, mutely signalling, “Wait!”
When we gaze at Cranach’s entire painting below, we may miss these faces of the human heart. Our gaze is rightly drawn to Jesus and the woman–noting that Jesus securely holds her right forearm, while one of her accusers grasps her left.
The readings of these last days of Lent reveal the awful face of lust. So much worse in those claiming to be godly. Like the elders whose lies about the righteous, innocent Susanna are sickeningly persuasive. And our anonymous woman found in the very act of adultery.
Bishop Erik Varden,
Oh, how we love situations like these, when we’re confident we’re on the side of right! How we love to invoke high principles in aid of our self-righteousness! High principles are indispensable for the construction of a just society, of course; but they do not on their own guarantee justice. They call for just execution. Even sublime standards can be instrumentalised, and infested, by human wickedness or spite.
5 Sunday of Lent
in his piece, Stone Ready, suggests we use Cranach’s painting in our consciousness examen
I am struck by this man, lustfully ready with a hatful of stones to throw at the woman denounced, with a sharp-edged one set in his right hand. He is clearly more than happy to be the first to step forward; he will not have been among the first to go away (8.9). The stupidity of judgemental vengefulness, the deformity wrought by this passion, is written on his features, which stand out in contrast to those of the venerable white-bearded elder at his left elbow whose hand is raised in a gesture of caution. Is there a trace of such violence in my heart?
Stone Read
It’s Palm Sunday and He rides into Jerusalem amidst lavish, unrestrained, almost unanimous exaltation.
Slowly-on the colt of a donkey.
So many details here, in this story.
Why a colt?
So that a fully grown adult male on the colt prefigures the excruciating burden He will soon carry?
To assure that these faces, now adoring, soon to turn vicious as they scream, “Crucify Him!”, to the ones who know His innocence, perhaps even sense that “Something greater than Solomon is here” but who lack the courage to defy the mob and confess the Truth that stands before them can see clearly this face…these eyes?
The story is familiar in the telling, isn’t it?
Maybe too familiar. It’s a very long Mass and the only one where we parishioners participate in proclaiming the Gospel.
Our part?
To mock, along with Peter, to deny and most terribly, shout,
“Crucify him!””
Why do we do this each year?
Maybe to look at our sin through the eyes of God?
Looking at our sin through the eyes of God
Has the shock worn off?
…even if, by now, the shock wears thin perhaps because we emphasize the divinity of Christ over his humanity, there should be enough sorrow for us to wonder if there is anyway we could ease such horrific and prolonged agony.
As a matter of fact there is; and this is the main reason why the Church keeps turning Palm Sunday into a day marked by distinct peculiarities.
Intentionally she contrasts the triumphant cheers and hosannas of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem with the shouts of “crucify him, crucify him” uttered, perhaps, by the very same people.
This contrast is the story of our life: the modest acclamation of Jesus as our divine Master here in church might be followed by an embarrassing mixture of selfishness, broken promises, lackluster performance during the week.
The contrast, perhaps, is not that clear and striking to us. We see ourselves as decent people, as Catholics in good standing. Indeed we are good people.
The Church, though, would like us to see reality with the eyes of God, at least on this day, Palm Sunday.
In the eyes of God sin is sin, is sin.
From the biggest to the slightest, any sin is an affront to His majesty and a self-inflicted wound undermining the soul slowly, even imperceptibly, or quite aggressively with a frontal, mortal attack.
Any sin, big and small alike, has also uncontrollable, horrific consequences affecting even the most innocent of children.
Therefore, the traces of shock still lingering after today’s reading of the Passion narrative should suffice to help us resolve, with distinct decisiveness, to do two things.
To look at any sin with God’s eyes, counting on His grace to resist even the fiercest temptations.
And to keep the eyes and the ears of our heart wide open before the pain that we witness all around ourselves; it is the pain which the Body of Christ endures around the clock.
We should not forget that a part of it is, for sure, the result of our sins, and we should ask the Lord to tell us what we are expected to do to alleviate it.
If, with the help of the Holy Spirit, we can work hard and with a good inner disposition on these two fronts we will live a profitable Holy Week and we will increase our hope in the share of glory that Jesus, our Lord, has reserved for each one of us.
Seeing Reality With the Eyes of God
The post Faces of the Human Heart appeared first on Lin Weeks Wilder.
April 5, 2025
Hell: Is It Real?
Hell: Is it real?
Of all the theological errors commonly held today, the most popular is surely the denial of the doctrine of hell. Even among the more devout, such as those who go to daily Mass, the teaching that God would send or consign anyone to hell is routinely dismissed. If it exists at all, for many, it is largely empty, except perhaps for a few serial killers or genocidal maniacs like Hitler. But for the vast majority—Catholic, non-Catholic, and atheist—hell is a very remote possibility. Never mind that Jesus taught just the opposite, say that “few” are on the narrow road of Salvation and that “many” prefer the darkness (Jn 3:19) and are on the wide road that leads to hell (see Mt 7:13; Lk 13:24).
Never mind that twenty-one of Jesus’s thirty-eight parables feature scenes of judgment where some are saved and others are lost. There are sheep and goats, wheat and tares, those on the right, those on the left, wise virgins and foolish virgins,and so forth. Indeed, most of the teachings on hell come right from the mouth of Jesus. But for most people, none of this matters…
In the past, imagining your own God and worshiping it was called idolatry. Today, most people think they have a perfect right to imagine a god of their own, the “god within” who almost always happens to agree with them. This refashioned “god”is a benign sort of fellow or power who isn’t too worked up about the things said by the God of Scripture or the God described by the Church. Hence, at best, God is trivialized and His revealed word is set aside. At worst, God is wholly replaced by another self-fabricated god. In addition, we have underestimated the seriousness of sin and what it does to harden our hearts against the True God, His kingdom, and its realities and virtues.
The Hell There Is: An Exploration of an Often-Rejected Doctrine of the Church
Logically, a belief in heaven necessitates a corresponding belief in hell. But that is apparently not the case. For increasing numbers of us believers, the notion even of purgatory- does not conform to their notion of a loving God. Despite our weekly recitation of the Apostle’s Creed.
Curious, isn’t it?
A 2021 Pew Research study surveyed more than 6,000 Americans on their views of the afterlife. While over 90 percent of Catholics believe in heaven, less than 60 percent think there’s a place for the damned.
Why?
Russ Douthat, in an interesting piece called, A Case For Hell writes:
Dismissing a Catholic priest’s account
But the more important factor in hell’s eclipse, perhaps, is a peculiar paradox of modernity. As our lives have grown longer and more comfortable, our sense of outrage at human suffering — its scope, and its apparent randomness — has grown sharper as well. The argument that a good deity couldn’t have made a world so rife with cruelty is a staple of atheist polemic, and every natural disaster inspires a round of soul-searching over how to reconcile God’s omnipotence with human anguish.
of hearing himself judged and sentenced to hell by Jesus, however, is trickier than that of the medieval Saints Teresa of Avila, John Bosco, and the three Fatima children from 100 years ago. In 1985, Father Frances Schier miraculously survived mortal injuries from a car accident. The priest recounts his illumination of conscience and subsequent condemnation in a piece titled “God’s Merciful Judgment.” In his testimony, he writes,
I was saved from physical and spiritual death for two reasons. The first reason is: hell exists; and secondly, and just as important is the fact that: priests are liable to hell also! In this age, a lot of people tend to dismiss the fact that God is all- just. They think, and wrongly so, that God is love and that He wouldn’t punish anyone for eternity. This is a fallacy! We are, all of us, liable to keeping God’s Commandments and making use of the Sacrament of Reconciliation to have our sins forgiven. If we think we don’t sin, then maybe we had better do more complete examination of conscience. One of the truths that I learned in my experience is the fact that God doesn’t send anyone to Heaven or Hell, we choose that, we make that decision; He merely honors and confirms our choice.
The Conversion of Father Steven Schier
In his riveting testimony, Father Schier writes of the devastating effects of modern psychiatry and psychology on the human soul.
Devastating?
Isn’t that a colossal overstatement? Not if we briefly scan the over 200 psychiatric diagnoses that includes “impulse disorder, caffeine disorder, morbid jealousy, partner relational problem, and oppositional defiant disorder.” Peeling back the labels reveals that a lack of self-control is being treated as a mental rather than a moral health problem. The decline at the confessionals relates directly to our culture of victimhood. “It’s not my fault that I steal, overeat, overspend, or am promiscuous.” So, of course, I don’t need confession.
Father Schier also blames his fellow priests who shy away from preaching about the “four last things” because they fear negative reactions from his parishioners.
It’s the fifth Sunday in Lent
One of the greatest omissions in parish life the past twenty-five or twenty-six years, is the fact that priests have not mentioned or directed in their homilies the subjects of “hell” and “eternal damnation.” If this is the fact, and it is, then the idea of a parishioner feeling or coming to terms with the fact that they should go to confession is totally missing. We have not wanted to upset parishioners! We especially do not want to upset wealthy parishioners who write large checks to the parish and are “good givers.” Consequently, what has been addressed in sermons has been peace, love, and joy;…
The Conversion of Father Schier
It’s the fifth Sunday in Lent so past week, a friend asked how my Lent is going. And I’m still thinking of her question because I don’t know. Certainly, I’ve worked at penances, more so than in previous Lents. The fasts have been arduous at times. Like my overwhelming pile of spiritual reading. However, I feel no sense of accomplishment; it’s more like, “It needs to be hard!”
But it’s never enough. I can always do more, and that won’t be enough either.
Ever. Alone, I must keep repeating, I can do nothing…am nothing.
We’re entering into the pulse
I always associated Lent with a melancholic focus on penance.
Listening to the Church’s Lenten prayers this year, I’ve had to reconsider. On Ash Wednesday, we prayed that “as we take up battle against spiritual evils, we may be armed with weapons of self-restraint.” The first Sunday of Lent, we prayed: “Grant, almighty God, through the yearly observances of holy Lent, that we may grow in understanding of the riches hidden in Christ.”
Last Sunday’s collect expanded on this theme: “Nourish us inwardly by your word, that, with spiritual sight made pure, we may rejoice to behold your glory.” When we put these together, we get a different picture of Lent. Penance is not our goal or even our focus—it is our “weapon.” We embrace the “observances of holy Lent” in order that, with “understanding” and “spiritual sight made pure,” “we may rejoice to behold [Christ’s] glory.”
In these prayers, the Church teaches us the proper order of penance, purity of heart, and vision. Penance is a tool for gaining purity of heart; temporary abstinence from lower goods lets us hold higher ones more closely. Purity of heart, in its turn, disposes us to the vision of God. Seeing Jesus is the purpose of Lent—penance is not.
‘ Of Lent, ‘ said Father John Paul Mary as he celebrated EWTN’s daily television Mass on Saturday, April 5. “The pulse,” he mused,”is the way the doctor checks to see that we’re alive. Indeed, we see the opposition to Jesus growing and will continue as we head into Passiontide.” Segueing into the parable of the prodigal son, Father John Paul revealed that he is one of the over 1000 “Missionaries of Mercy” commissioned by Pope Francis during the Extraordinary Jubilee of Mercy in 2016. That commission was to end with the new year of 2017, but Pope Francis extended it indefinitely.
Last week, Pope Francis wrote a message to the Missionaries of Mercy:
“Through your service,” he said, “you bear witness to the paternal face of God, infinitely great in love, who calls everyone to conversion and constantly renews us with His forgiveness.” Pope Francis said Jesus opens the path in every sinner’s heart to walk with the Church toward reconciliation.“Conversion and forgiveness are the two caresses with which the Lord wipes every tear from our eyes,” he said. “They are the hands with which the Church embraces us sinners; they are the feet on which we walk in our earthly pilgrimage.”
The Pope encouraged Missionaries of Mercy to be “attentive in listening, ready in welcoming, and steadfast in accompanying those who desire to renew their lives and return to the Lord.” God’s mercy, he added, changes our hearts and can reach us in every situation, since we can always trust in God. “I wholeheartedly bless your apostolate, asking Mary Immaculate to watch over you as Mother of Mercy,” he concluded. “Please, do not forget to pray for me.”
Looking straight at you and me, Father John Paul Mary asked in his Saturday morning homily, “Has it been more than a few months since your last confession? Ten Years? Twenty?
Fifty?
Seventy?
When the father sees his prodigal son in the distance, he doesn’t wait on the porch, he runs to meet his son.
“He runs!”
Then the scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman
who had been caught in adultery
and made her stand in the middle.
They said to him,
“Teacher, this woman was caught
in the very act of committing adultery.
Now in the law, Moses commanded us to stone such women.
So what do you say?”
They said this to test him,
so that they could have some charge to bring against him.
Jesus bent down and began to write on the ground with his finger.
But when they continued asking him,
he straightened up and said to them,
“Let the one among you who is without sin
be the first to throw a stone at her.”
Again he bent down and wrote on the ground.
And in response, they went away one by one,
beginning with the elders.
So he was left alone with the woman before him.
Then Jesus straightened up and said to her,
“Woman, where are they?
Has no one condemned you?”
She replied, “No one, sir.”
Then Jesus said, “Neither do I condemn you.
Go, and from now on do not sin any more.”
The post Hell: Is It Real? appeared first on Lin Weeks Wilder.
March 29, 2025
It’s Not About Sin
It’s not about sin“The prodigal son gospel reading is the perfect ‘laetare‘ for the fourth Sunday in Lent…laetare means joyous…we are happy because we’re now halfway through Lent,” the new Pastor, Fr. Jose Alberto Vasquez at St. Patrick’s Church in Arroyo Grande, California, claimed.
Then he exclaimed that reconciliation is not about sin but forgiveness. Several times, he made that statement that sounded more like a declaration. I am still thinking about his words uttered last night during the Vigil Mass. Particularly that statement about sin.
I should know this. I should know that I go to confession for forgiveness…of course, why else do we go?
And yet, the sequence of the words in Fr. Jose’s homily feel new.
Because we focus on our failures, imperfections,the depressingly persistent disappointments of ourselves. His entire homily was about reconciliation-confession. How to prepare, what to say, what to expect and how to feel once we leave the confessional. In my almost twenty years in this faith, I have never heard a priest discuss this subject, never mind offer a five-step template for it. But this man did, using himself and the Prodigal Son as models.
For many of us, the anticipation, worry and anxiety about going to confession consume far more time and energy than does the actual act itself. And for good reason, stated Fr. Beto. One of the priests in the seminary where he studied did what no priest should ever do. When the young seminarian began to list his sins, rather than merely listening, the confessor asked for explanations.
“How could you do that?”
“How many times did you think that?”
“Why did you do that?”
The result for the young priest was a vow: “I will never ask questions, make judgments, ask questions…I will do what I have been ordained to do, provide absolution…no more and no less.” His “5 steps to confession” are those of the Prodigal Son.
The fact of our sinful nature is not in dispute: state the wrong, simply and clearly.”I have sinned against God and you, I no longer deserve to be called your son.”Prepare by deciding the answers to these questions. “What do I want to say?” “What are the things I need to say?” “The things that are disturbing my peace?”Feel sorrow.Be willing to do penance. “I no longer deserve to be your son.”Resolve never to commit the sin again.Most of all, consider the response of the betrayed father. “Kill the fatted calf!! My son who was dead now lives.!”
We need this Gospel passage.
But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. And the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’b]”>[bBut the father said to his servants,‘Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet. And bring the fattened calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate. For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.’ And they began to celebrate.
Almost ten years have passed since I wrote about Father Beto’s homily but his remarks are apt for this Laetare Sunday in 2025.
Why?
Many reasons, but primarily two. Countless others share a similar story about unfair, even cruel, treatment by a priest. Most likely, other seminarians did. And made different choices from Father Beto’s. Perhaps became angry, resentful, left the seminary, and/or Catholicism. However, he chose to use his humiliation uniquely.
No matter how many times I read and ponder this Gospel passage, its message never fails to penetrate my heart and mind. This is true because I keep thinking I can finally reach a place where I can get above it all: the sins that occur so consistently in my thoughts and actions. With sufficient penances, I can get clean. But my efforts are so inadequate as to be comical, if salvation could be considered amusing, that is.
Depending on the moment, day or week, I’m one or the other–the older or the younger son, so this parable brings me to tears just like it does Father Mike Schmitz:
So, just when it reaches the point where our self-disgust rears up to overpower, this Gospel passage appears. And the liturgical colors become festive if only for this one Sunday.
Pope Francis declares that during the sacrament of confession, “The Lord removes the ashes from the ember of the soul, cleanses those inner stains that prevent us from trusting in God, from embracing our brothers, from loving ourselves. He forgives everything.” Once cleansed, we can hear the saints impart their secrets to us.
A saint is not, as some may believe, a perfect person. Rather, a saint is a sinner who has stopped trying to heal himself, and who has stopped expecting other people or life to heal him. Instead, a saint is someone who each day repents and turns himself over completely to God, regardless of what yesterday was like and what tomorrow will be. So many people wonder what the key to happiness in life is. Some believe that it is wealth, health, success, etc. The saints teach us, primarily by their life and witness, that the key to happiness is repentance…
Repentance: Embracing Jesus
The post It’s Not About Sin appeared first on Lin Weeks Wilder.
March 22, 2025
Forbidden Fruit and Its Consequences
Sarah Leading Hagar to Abraham- Mathis Stom
Forbidden fruit and its consequencesThis painting, Sarah Leading Abraham to Hagar by seventeenth century painter Matthias Stom hangs in the Gimaldegalerie in Berlin. Even a quick look at the figures portrayed by the artist conveys something unseemly, even odious. All too evident is the purpose of the intrusion of the elderly woman ushering the very young girl into Abraham’s bedchambers.
I learned of this painting in a most intriguing meditation by Dominican priest, Fr. Anthony Giambrone called Forbidden Fruit and the Fruit of Faith.
Abraham’s bare aged and sunken chest perversely contrasts with the youth and innocence of young Hagar. Instead of a salacious male appetite, Abraham’s reaction approaches revulsion.
So does ours; what we see is unnatural.
Abraham’s exhausted countenance and Hagar’s nervous anxiety portend the forbidden nature of what Sarah is commanding. And quite clearly, she is in command.
What is happening here?We know don’t we? It is apparent that the wrinkled, aged woman is ‘gifting’ her husband with her servant, young, and ostensibly fertile. She is far too old to produce an heir for her husband’s tribe therefore she brings him her servant Hagar to lie with him.
In Sarah’s culture, this was common practice. Barren women routinely urged their husbands to lie with a servant to produce an heir for the tribe. But Sarah and Abraham have been chosen and belong to Another.
If culturally acceptable, why use the term “Forbidden fruit?”
Remember the promise to Abraham and Sarah in Genesis made by the “three visitors”?
Like Eve, Sarah didn’t trust the Lord.
* The LORD appeared to Abraham by the oak of Mamre, as he sat in the entrance of his tent, while the day was growing hot.
Looking up, he saw three men standing near him. When he saw them, he ran from the entrance of the tent to greet them; and bowing to the ground,
he said: “Sir,* if it please you, do not go on past your servant.
Let some water be brought, that you may bathe your feet, and then rest under the tree.
Now that you have come to your servant, let me bring you a little food, that you may refresh yourselves; and afterward you may go on your way.” “Very well,” they replied, “do as you have said.”
Abraham hurried into the tent to Sarah and said, “Quick, three measures* of bran flour! Knead it and make bread.”
He ran to the herd, picked out a tender, choice calf, and gave it to a servant, who quickly prepared it.
Then he got some curds* and milk, as well as the calf that had been prepared, and set these before them, waiting on them under the tree while they ate.
“Where is your wife Sarah?” they asked him. “There in the tent,” he replied.
One of them* said, “I will return to you about this time next year, and Sarah will then have a son.” Sarah was listening at the entrance of the tent, just behind him.b
Now Abraham and Sarah were old, advanced in years, and Sarah had stopped having her menstrual periods.c
So Sarah laughed* to herself and said, “Now that I am worn out and my husband is old, am I still to have sexual pleasure?”
But the LORD said to Abraham: “Why did Sarah laugh and say, ‘Will I really bear a child, old as I am?’
Is anything too marvelous for the LORD to do? At the appointed time, about this time next year, I will return to you, and Sarah will have a son.”d
Sarah lied, saying, “I did not laugh,” because she was afraid. But he said, “Yes, you did.”
Sarah did not believe what seemed impossible. In fact, she laughed…then lied! Of course the promise sounded absurd. Our sympathies align with Sarah because we think like men not God. Father Giambrone’s writes that although the couple is performing an act which is socially and culturally acceptable, there is more required here than convention.
“Radical belief in God’s radical promise” is required. The very respectable aged couple is making a grave mistake. One with far reaching consequences throughout the ages. In the Hebrew, author Giambrone writes that Abram is said literally to “listen to the voice” of Sarah. A phrase that appeared only one other place in the Hebrew Bible. In Eden, when Adam “listened to the voice” of Eve. Abraham, like Adam, knows that what he is about to do is offensive to his God.
But he does it anyway. He “obeyed Sarah.” Abraham, Sarah and Abraham were just and righteous people, yet they surrendered to sin. What chance do we have in a world where where forbidden fruits are vaulted as rights and are swallowed up in the business of sin?
Indeed.
It’s the third Sunday of LentAnd it’s getting hard. Sure there are fruits of the fasting, looser clothes for one but Lent’s not even half over and it feels like an endurance test.This third Sunday of Lent’s a good time to ask ourselves how we’re doing on this forty-day journey aimed at a closer relationship with the Lord. And ponder the reason for the fasting. For too easily we can fall into traps like pride at our fasting or generosity. And forget that our aim is to follow Christ: his serene acceptance of mockery, rejection, slander, injustice, brutality and a long suffering death. A list that stops us in our tracks, does it not?
The recently released film, The Last Supper, portrays those two last days of Jesus’ life through the lens of Saint Peter. We hear his voice from the beginning, “I was a fisherman.”
Our view, then, is as a watcher of Jesus., like they are. We love him, follow him, listen to him but have no idea what he’s doing or why. The actors playing Peter, Judas and Caiaphas are superb. And so is their sparse dialogue. It plunges us into Peter’s mind while he puzzles about Jesus’ increasingly erratic behavior. And worries about Judas’ visible despair that he won’t discuss. And then valiantly fights to defend his beloved Jesus-eager to fight to his death. Then his total incomprehension at Jesus’ command to stop.
“Do nothing while they arrest and immobilize me, while they jeer, beat and invent reasons to crucify me.”
“Just watch.”
Peter’s panicked shouts, “No, I do not know him!” lodge in our throats.
Indeed, he did not know him, he was-is- Other: Holy, Holy, Holy.
Then later, the doubling of his grief and guilt at finding Judas hanging at the end of a rope. “I failed you too, Judas.”
We feel connected with Peter in a new way after watching this film. With all of these people placed in the life of Jesus, people just like us, faced at times, with impossible choices. But who slowly assimilate “Radical belief in God’s radical promise.”
“…He must increase; I must decrease.”
John 3:30
The post Forbidden Fruit and Its Consequences appeared first on Lin Weeks Wilder.
March 15, 2025
Libido Domanandi and The Transfiguration of Christ
Mount Tabor. Israel. January 27, 2020: Interior of the Transfiguration Church on Mount Tabor in IsraelLibido Domanandi and The Transfiguration of ChristLast Sunday, the first Sunday in Lent, the liturgical churches advised us to accompany Jesus’s forty day desert fast and temptations. This Sunday’s seemingly abrupt switch to the Transfiguration of Jesus may be puzzling. But as I ponder the reason for the Transfiguration of Jesus on the second Sunday of Lent, I think we’re meant to see the preciousness of each human soul–of our own and the politicians we dislike:
Saint Augustine’s lust for domination
Of all visible creatures only man is “able to know and love his creator”.219 He is “the only creature on earth that God has willed for himself”,220 and he alone is called to share, by knowledge and love, in God’s own life. It was for this end that he was created, and this is the fundamental reason for his dignity:
What made you establish man in so great a dignity? Certainly the incalculable love by which you have looked on your creature in yourself! You are taken with love for her; for by love indeed you created her, by love you have given her a being capable of tasting your eternal Good.221
357 Being in the image of God the human individual possesses the dignity of a person, who is not just something, but someone. He is capable of self-knowledge, of self-possession and of freely giving himself and entering into communion with other persons. and he is called by grace to a covenant with his Creator, to offer him a response of faith and love that no other creature can give in his stead.
358 God created everything for man,222 but man in turn was created to serve and love God and to offer all creation back to him:
What is it that is about to be created, that enjoys such honour? It is man that great and wonderful living creature, more precious in the eyes of God than all other creatures! For him the heavens and the earth, the sea and all the rest of creation exist. God attached so much importance to his salvation that he did not spare his own Son for the sake of man. Nor does he ever cease to work, trying every possible means, until he has raised man up to himself and made him sit at his right hand.223
Catechism of the Catholic Church
Libido domanandi’s the Latin term for the lust for domination. As we think or speak this phrase, it sends chills down the spine. For ancient Romans, it was an “untypical vice,” characteristic of aggressive states like Assyria, Babylon and Macedonia. But Saint Augustne’s City of God, describes the violent history, then the succession of Roman conquerers in the Roman Empire. Thus considering the city of the world as characterized by libido domanandi. It’s the sine qua non of disordered relationships emanating from sin.
This lust for domination, as what drives life—or more accurately from Augustine’s view, destroys it—is motivated by service to the self and want to control everything: control what is good, control what is “fact” or “true”, control how others behave, control who receives laurels and praise, and so forth. This lust for domination runs counter to the ethic of service of others (love of others). The libido dominandi is tied to the incurvatus in se (inward curve to the self) for the lust for domination is all about the self: The self’s want for domination of the world and all in it.
But just a moment’s consideration propels the phrase into the twenty-first-century, into the hearts and minds of Christians and secularists alike.
What is it when we pass on the latest juicy news about a politician or neighbor but the lust to dominate conversation or another’s attention? The phrase places gossip in another realm entirely.
These forty daysof fasting inevitably slow us down. Our energy is different since the routine of eating becomes something else entirely. Not routine at all. Things like gardening, shopping and ‘normal’ activities are tiring on an empty stomach. While we know the end is a glorious one, on this tenth day of Lent, we feel as if we’re slogging through.
All of which causes me to consider Pope Francis’ Lenten message. Written before he was hospitialized, Pope Francis writes of our journey as pilgrims of hope. One that we take together. A journey we make in hope.
For the first point of journey, he suggests mediating on where we are in this life. Are we on a journey or standing still? Are we seeking ways to escape habits of sin that are beneath us?
Our journey, writes the Pope is synodal: we make it together. “Let us ask ourselves in the presence of the Lord whether, as bishops, priests, consecrated persons and laity in the service of the Kingdom of God, we cooperate with others. Whether we show ourselves welcoming, with concrete gestures, to those both near and far. Whether we make others feel a part of the community or keep them at a distance. [4] This, then, is a second call to conversion: a summons to synodality.”
We journey together in hope. Awed and in childlike trust that His Transfiguration will one day be our own, that the fruits of our prayers, penances and fasting will transform us away from libido domanandi to transfiguration. “What is it that is about to be created, that enjoys such honour? It is man that great and wonderful living creature, more precious in the eyes of God than all other creatures! For him the heavens and the earth, the sea and all the rest of creation exist. God attached so much importance to his salvation that he did not spare his own Son for the sake of man. Nor does he ever cease to work, trying every possible means, until he has raised man up to himself and made him sit at his right hand.223”
“Hope, O my soul, hope. You know neither the day nor the hour. Watch carefully, for everything passes quickly, even though your impatience makes doubtful what is certain, and turns a very short time into a long one” ( The Exclamations of the Soul to God, 15:3). [9]
May the Virgin Mary, Mother of Hope, intercede for us and accompany us on our Lenten journey.
Pope Francis Lenten Message 2025
The post Libido Domanandi and The Transfiguration of Christ appeared first on Lin Weeks Wilder.
