Category Archives: spirituality

Morning Thoughts: Counting Drops

Massimo Stanzione, “Pieta”, (1621-25)

For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

—1 Corinthians 13:12

Nothing.

Some days all we can do is count raindrops. There seems to be little else on the horizon.

“For we walk by faith, not by sight.” (2 Cor. 5:7)

On days such as these, a friend, a family member, a neighbor—perhaps even a stranger—may ask us if anything is wrong.

The answer is short and straightforward: “No, nothing at all.”

Yet, it is precisely that.

“Nothing” is precisely the problem:

The abyss of faith.

It’s hard.

It’s hard to journey in darkness.

It’s hard to swim in a bottomless sea without attempting every once in a while to touch bottom.

It’s also hard not to wonder if there’s something dangerous swimming just below.

But we must resist temptation, no matter its shape or size.

We must keep our eyes on the Island of Hope, with its very distinct Tree of Life, firmly planted, and reaching far above the horizon.

Instead of looking backwards or beneath, we must look to Christ lifted high up upon the Cross.

———

We too must ascend. We too must rise above knowledge, “forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead…” (Phil. 3:13)

And we must never despair. Never.

And why would we? God’s drops of love are everywhere.

Start to count them. Start to count this very day. Count the drops dripping from Christ’s open wounds. His crucified presence abounds; there are so many instances of Christ being put to the test—of Christ being nailed to the Cross—right in front of us, each and every day.

The Crucified Christ we personally discover within our immediate presence, literally within arm’s reach, just may be that same friend, family member, neighbor, or stranger who asked us just a little while ago if anything was wrong.

———

Count your blessings on the outstretched fingers of the Lord.

Order your days according to the Stations of His Cross.

For without the Passion there is no Resurrection.

That’s part and parcel of The Promise:

God became man, so that man may dwell eternally with God.

His promise is everything.

Our doubt is nothing.

And the space in between, the space between His promise and our doubt, is filled with the very real stuff we call “life”— “the nuts and bolts” of daily existence, the building blocks of the Body of Christ—the Kingdom of God.

We just have to continue to walk, in faith, one step at a time. Knowing that we never walk alone.

Christ is always with us. He shares our total existence—in all things but sin—and even that, He got to know well. For the Guiltless One took upon Himself our sins and those of the whole world.

Jesus not only hung upon the Cross, He was yanked on all the while He was up there—the weight of a fallen world ceaselessly pulling down on His spotless hands and feet.

“For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin…” (2 Cor. 5:21)

———

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Jesus held back not a drop. He gave it all. And we in return are offered everything:

Sons and daughters of God. Co-heirs of the Kingdom.

How can we ever repay such a gift?

That’s the point. We can’t.

It’s grace. Pure grace.

Unwarranted mercy, non-merited compassion and forgiveness, unearned love.

———

Grace-filled moments such as these, when we realize just how small we truly are, bring us astonishingly close to the Creator of all—wonderfully close to Him Whom nothing can be compared.

They fill us with hope, the hope of what is to come, the hope of what Christ Himself promises.

In the meantime, let us keep counting raindrops. They too shall soon cease to fall. For one day, even faith will no longer be needed, for we shall see God “face to face.”

Beloved, we are God’s children now; what we shall be has not yet been revealed. We do know that when it is revealed we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is.

—1 John 3:2

—Howard Hain

26th Sunday C: Social Justice: What is It?

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To listen to today’s homily, please select the audio file below:

The last two Sunday’s our first reading has been from the Prophet Amos. Today’s reading from Amos is linked to the story that Jesus tells in Luke’s gospel. He speaks of a rich man living very comfortably, living luxuriously, who can’t see the poor beggar, Lazarus, outside his door. God judges him severely.

Having these two readings together, we can understand why some people in Jesus’ time thought he was a prophet. Jesus’ message about the poor was like that of the prophets. We can see also how important social justice is in the gospel. We can’t have religion without justice. Religion without justice is an affront to God who wishes all his children be justly cared for and loved.

Let’s take a look, first, at Amos, the prophet. Amos was ordinary sheepbreeder, he bred sheep in northern Israel about 700 years before Christ. In his time Israel was very prosperous and so were the countries around her, Syria, Phoenicia, Egypt, but their prosperity came at a price. They had everything they wanted–at least, the elite of those societies had everything they wanted. More often than not, though, their prosperity came at the expense of the poor.

In our readings these last two Sunday’s you hear Amos’ severe indictment, not only of the people of Israel, but of her neighbors as well. They’re trampling on the needy. He fiercely attacks those who are well off and don’t see the poor of the land.

“…lying upon beds of ivory, stretched comfortably on their couches,” eating the best food, drinking the best wines, not caring at all about those who are falling apart around them.

Amos was an ordinary sheep herder, but he knew what was going on, and he wasn’t afraid to say what he saw. He calls out everyone, kings, rulers, political people, priests, religious leaders, business people, anyone who’s cashing in on the needy and the poor of the land.

The Lord won’t forget what you have done, he tells them.

God won’t forget what you have done. Notice, the prophet doesn’t appeal to economics and say it’s not good economics to neglect the poor and have a society of “have’s and have nots.” No. The prophet doesn’t appeal to politics and say a fractured society isn’t good for a community; it’s going to lead to violence, riots, internal instability. No. The prophet doesn’t appeal to human good feeling and say that being good to the poor will help you feel better about yourself. No.

A prophet like Amos sees the world through God’s eyes and God’s values. That’s who the prophet is: one who sees the world through God’s eyes and God’s values. “Your kingdom come. Your will be done.” The goods of this world are not just for some people, for the few. This world is God’s world, and it’s meant for the good of all. That’s what the prophets say. That’s what the saints say, saints like Mother Theresa say the same thing. They see the world through God’s eyes and God’s values. That’s what social justice means, it’s justice for all.

That’s what Jesus says in his parable today. Notice, Jesus doesn’t say much about the rich man who’s dressed well and eats well. He doesn’t tell anything about the house he lived in, or his status in society or the way he got his money, or his wealthy friends, or where he spends his vacations. No. In fact, he doesn’t even tell us his name.

The only name Jesus offers in the parable is the poor man’s name, Lazarus, who has the same name as the man Jesus raised from the dead. How different too that is from our society, which knows the names of all the rich and famous and forgets the names of the poor.

We need to listen to prophets and saints. We need to listen to the teaching of Jesus in the gospel. We need to see things right. We need to see this world as God sees it.

And we need to act justly in our world, justly to all.

Morning Thoughts: I Have a Dream

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Mary Cassatt, “Mother and Two Children”, (1906)

Let us put it all away.

Put away all the toys.

All the distractions.

Let us dream.

Let us dream of peace. Perfect peace. This very day.

I want every human being to love truth. To dwell in beauty. To live in wonder of God’s creation.

To think.

To stop.

To ascend.

To rise above the facts. To float above the circumstances. To kiss God on the cheek.

To laugh.

To cry.

To smile at a child.

To shake hands with a friend. To hug an enemy.

To hope. To believe. To pray.

To give great thanks. To humbly offer praise.

To graciously receive. To generously give.

To be alive.

To not be afraid.

———

I want every human being to ask: Why isn’t it always this way?

———

Perhaps though most of all, I want us to be honest.

Honest about our desire to love. Our desire to be kind.

With no embarrassment, with no shame.

Freed from all worry that people will think it strange.

—Howard Hain

Sunday Vespers: Head of an Old Fisherman

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“Marble Head of an Old Fisherman” 1st-2nd century A.D. Period: Imperial. Culture: Roman. Medium: Marble

I’ve seen your face before.

We’ve spent time together before today.

You are so beautifully broken.

Made of marble, yet fragile as clay.

The years have chiseled deep.

The salt air has sanded away.

I hope one day to look just like you.

Yes, I know, it’s a lofty goal.

The calm countenance of a wise, humble, seasoned priest.

O, yes you are!

I see right though that meager disguise.

A fisherman, a priest; they’re practically one and the same.

Saint Peter, Saint James, Saint John…

The Fisher-King kept those three extra close.

Plus, your hat gives it away.

Chipped or not, I know it’s really a halo.

“Come, follow me…and I will make you fishers of men.”

—Matthew 4:19

—Howard Hain

http://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/252536

Friday Thoughts: Completion

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Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ on behalf of his body, which is the church…

—Colossians 1:24

One more day. A few more hours. A couple more minutes.

The joy of wrapping things up. Of finishing strong. Competing well. Seeing things through.

The anticipation of rest. Of a good meal. The best. Of the company of those you love, of those who know you best.

How can there be another round? How can I possibly do one more day?

Questions we ask when we are truly spent.

———

To be in Christ’s Passion is to think that there can’t possibly be more. That this, this very moment, has to be the end.

But Christ continues. So does His Passion.

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”

—2 Corinthians 12:9

———

He’s sweating blood in the garden. He’s scourged at the pillar. He’s crowned with sharp thorns.

He carries His cross. He’s stripped. He’s nailed.

He hangs for hours, for all passing by to see.

———

But He hangs not alone.

A powerful woman, a tender-hearted disciple, a handful of faithful women, a couple of good law-abiding men, a few soldiers doing their duty, an evolving circle of “innocent” bystanders, and of course, a hoard of mockers. They are all on hand.

Yes, the mockers, they are there for sure. But they don’t stay the entire time. Their shame shows them the door.

The evil spirits, on the other hand, they stay till the end. Taunting. Challenging. Hating Christ’s inevitable victory over death:

“Come off that cross, you coward! Fight like a man!”

———

There are times when laughs and cries sound very much the same. When the heart bursts forth from the valley of death.

“Is he laughing?”

“Is he crying?”

“Has he gone insane?”

Or has he finally finished taking upon Himself all the blame?

———

“It is finished.”

And He bowed His head and gave up His spirit.

—John 19:30

———

And that was just the beginning.

Almost like the first week of school.

Now all of Jesus’ younger siblings get to follow His rule:

Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith,

who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, scorning its shame

and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.

—Hebrews 12:2

“And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age.”

—Matthew 28:20

—Howard Hain

Morning Thoughts: The Promise of a New Day

Friday Thoughts: On the Cutting Edge of Boredom

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Vincent van Gogh, “The Stone Bench in the Garden of Saint-Paul Hospital” (1889)

There is so much “excitement” in the world.

Politics. Sports. Entertainment.

Even in the simple act of kids going back to school there is so much hoopla.

We can’t just do things simply. Everything has to be planned, announced, delved into, broadcast into something “grand”, “life-changing”, “utterly profound.”

But the more we need to insist that something is the case, the less in reality it usually is. For excitement, like authority, is something that by its very nature announces itself—and it decreases in direct proportion to the need to have it proclaimed.

In other words, just because we make “a big deal” about everything doesn’t mean it is. In fact, it is normally quite the opposite.

———

I remember when a child’s birthday party was composed of eight or ten kids sitting around a kitchen table, wearing silly pointy hats, and eating a Duncan Hines cake made the day before by a stay-home mom.

Even catechism lessons seemed a whole lot more straight forward, and effective. For me they took place around that same kitchen table, with those same neighborhood friends, and were taught by that same mom who baked the birthday cake. Now, catechists are expected to act like game-show hosts. And preachers? We’ll they’re expected to be downright celebrities.

Well, there is an answer to all this triviality: The Bench. Whether it’s in the park, in front of your house, or even under one of those little bus-stop canopies on the side of the road.

Sit. Listen. Do nothing. Especially when you are tempted by “boredom”. For that’s exactly what boredom is, a temptation. A temptation to deny the existence of God. For if we are conscious of God’s presence we can never be bored. Every nook and cranny of every “meaningless” daily act and encounter has profound, truly profound significance, if we are conscious of God’s omnipresence and His perfect will.

Sit there peacefully, resting quietly on the cutting edge of boredom. You never know how much good God might do through you: what poor widow you may accompany, what orphan you might help find a home, what angel you may entertain, what authentic prayer you might offer up—now that God and not self-image is in control.

———

Truth flips things on their head. I think it is Saint Bernard who says something along these lines: If we really think about how radical a call the Christian life is, as compared to the way the rest of the world lives, we realize it’s almost the equivalent of us walking down the street on our hands.

If it isn’t Saint Bernard that I’m paraphrasing, well then it is one of God’s other saints, and that is all that matters. For in God’s Kingdom the only credit that is given comes from and returns to God, and God alone. All wisdom is His.

And there it is, there is the crux of it: We have become obsessed with being “original”, with being “special”, with being “one-of-a-kind”—which of course we all are, tremendously so in fact—that is until we stop and think about it, or even worse, try to achieve it through our own means.

Trying to be “original” is the end of all originality. Wanting to be “special” is the death of a truly special purpose.

Pure existence on the other hand can only result in true originality—and it is always special, no matter what Tom, Dick, or Harry it is taking place within.

———

When a human being is existing as God wills, the result is dynamic, truly exciting. And God never wills for us to believe and act as if we are God and He is not.

Put to death once and for all the need to self-promote, to self-proclaim, to self-worship.

Sit on a bench instead. Be still. Exist. You just may be surprised how cool you really are.

—Howard Hain

Morning Thoughts: Take Five

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Jesus departed to the mountain to pray, and he spent the night in prayer to God.

—Luke 6:12

The Tuesday after Labor Day.

On your mark, get set, go!

The whole world is off and running, once again.

Take a few minutes this morning.

A few more minutes before you go.

Spend them with the Lord.

Let us truly spend them together:

Our Father,

Who art in heaven,

hallowed by Thy name;

Thy kingdom come,

Thy will be done

on earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day

our daily bread,

and forgive us our trespasses,

as we forgive those

who trespass against us;

and lead us not into temptation,

but deliver us from evil.

Amen.

Let us begin correctly.

In faith. With hope. Immersed in love.

Truly grateful. Truly humble. Sincerely serving.

For the kingdom, the power, and the glory are truly God’s, now and for ever.

And he came down with them and stood on a stretch of level ground.

Everyone in the crowd sought to touch him because power came forth from him and healed them all.

—Luke 6:17, 19

—Howard Hain

Friday Thoughts: Young Mother Sewing

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Mary Cassatt Young Mother Sewing 1900 Met

Mary Cassatt, “Young Mother Sewing”, 1900 (The Met)

A living faith works. It is always active, especially when we are docile to the Spirit.

When we walk by faith we see, we hear, we speak what God intends, especially when we are blind to the cares and anxieties of the world.

Small children are wonderfully active, superbly passive, and at times they seem completely blind, fantastically blind. They are alive. They see. They hear. They speak. They watch. They feel.

Mother Church calls all of us home, even when she is silent. She is always at work. She watches us even when her eyes are busy with the business of the day.

She sews. We just need to obey. To trust. To allow ourselves the freedom to lay across her lap.

In the short description upon the little museum card hanging beneath the painting shown above, God has planted great instruction. The work is by American impressionist Mary Cassatt.

According to the card, about the year 1890 “Cassatt redirected her art toward women caring for children and children alone—themes that reflected her affection for her nieces and nephews and the prevailing cultural interest in child rearing.” And then, after informing us that for this particular painting Cassatt “enlisted two unrelated models to enact the roles of mother and child”, the card completes its little catechesis by blessing us with a precious little anecdote and quote:

Louisine Havemeyer, who purchased it in 1901, remarked on its truthfulness: “Look at that little child that has just thrown herself against her mother’s knee, regardless of the result and oblivious to the fact that she could disturb ‘her mamma.’ And she is quite right, she does not disturb her mother. Mamma simply draws back a bit and continues to sew.”

God are we blessed. So blessed to have such a mother. All of us. Maybe give her a call today. Better yet, perhaps even stop by. She’d love that. She’d love to see your face. You’re always on her mind and in her heart. She lives in the closest church you can find, any building that truly houses her Son.

If she seems a little occupied with the “cooking and cleaning”, with all “the business of life”, don’t let that stop you or cut your visit short. No, throw yourself against your “mother’s knee regardless of the result and oblivious to the fact” that you could disturb your “mamma.”

It most certainly does not.

“Mamma simply draws back a bit and continues to sew.”

—Howard Hain

http://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/10425

Morning Thoughts: Discernment, Day by Day

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Newburyport Meadows Martin Johnson Heade ca. 1876-81

Martin Johnson Heade, “Newburyport Meadows”, (ca. 1876-81) (The Met)

Come now, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we shall go into such and such a town, spend a year there doing business, and make a profit”—you have no idea what your life will be like tomorrow. You are a puff of smoke that appears briefly and then disappears.

—James 4:13-14

Our cross is daily

And so are our decisions

Step by step we carry

Step by step we decide

Our cross may change…its shape, its size

Our decisions, like shadows, mirror the cross

Lengthening, stretching, thinning out—seemingly to even disappear—only to return—heavier, shorter, more compact—practically on top of us

It all depends on the angle and the path of the sun

———

The Sun of Justice

The Son of God

He walked day-by-day

He was conscious of the hour

He knew when His hour was near

He knew when it was time to slip away

He knew

To heal a stranger

To correct a disciple

To teach the crowds

To challenge a scribe

When to stand still

When to be silent

When to turn the other cheek

When to forgive those who hunted Him down

Christ knew the hour of His sorrowful Passion

Christ Jesus knew how to embrace the Word of the Cross

———

The Son of God knew His Father was trustworthy

He knew how to die

He knew how to live

He knew how to love

Day-by-day

Hour-by-hour

Minute-by-minute

Moment-by-moment

Jesus carried His Cross

He made decisions

Only concerned with fulfilling His Father’s will

Walk like Him

Walk with Him

Carry the cross you discover each new day

Give thanks for the blessings that come in the shape of a couple of crisscrossed beams

Make decisions accordingly

Planning to do more is to presume

—to presume to know what cross you’ll need to carry a few moments from now—

Doing any less is to put the cross gently laid upon your shoulder down

But for you who fear my name, the sun of justice

will arise with healing in its wings;

And you will go out leaping like calves from the stall…

—Malachi 3:20

—Howard Hain

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The Victor's Place

Some homilies, scattered thoughts, images from the Passionists: : whatever the days bring. Follow me on Twitter @vhoagland.

Category Archives: spirituality

Morning Thoughts: Counting Drops

Morning Thoughts: I Have a Dream

Sunday Vespers: Head of an Old Fisherman

Friday Thoughts: Completion

Morning Thoughts: The Promise of a New Day

Friday Thoughts: On the Cutting Edge of Boredom

Morning Thoughts: Take Five

Friday Thoughts: Young Mother Sewing

Morning Thoughts: Discernment, Day by Day

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