Tag Archives: God

Stench of the Cross

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by Howard Hain

 

Rembrandt Begger Seated on a Bank (1630)

Rembrandt, “Beggar Seated on a Bank”, (1630)

 

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For we are to God the sweet aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing…

—2 Corinthians 2:15

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We see so many images of Christ Crucified. Museums and churches are full of them. And they should be. It is the greatest paradox ever told.

And to go along with the abundance of visual representations, there are of course also many artworks in written form depicting the Passion of Jesus Christ. Shelf after shelf can be filled with books containing the seemingly endless repertoire of poems, plays, and musical compositions based on the subject.

But none can capture the stench of death.

Smell moves us like no other sense.

It is so powerful. So quick. So nauseating.

Think of that the next time you’re riding the subway on your way to a museum. Think of that when a homeless man enters your subway car. Think of that when you’re tempted to switch trains at the next stop due to the stench.

Breathe deep instead.

Think of the stench. Think of that poor man—that poor sorrowful man dying right in front of you. The stench of rotting flesh. The stench of death.

No artwork that you’re on your way to see will bring Jesus and His Cross more to life.

Take a deep breath, and pray. You’re on holy ground.

Pray for yourself. Pray for the man. Pray for all those on board. Pray for the entire world.

Pray that that particular stench, that stench of death, right then and there, brings life.

That it brings life to hardened hearts.

That it brings life to senses numbed to the utter poverty of human suffering—suffering that manifests itself in oh so many ways.

That it brings life to what the world says can’t and shouldn’t be redeemed.

And give that gentleman a few bucks.

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The Metropolitan Museum of Art recommends an entrance fee of twenty-five dollars. Do you know how much consolation that poor suffering Christ riding right next to you would receive if you gave him that much?

Do you know how cheap a price that is to pay to be able to get so close to a living breathing masterpiece of sacrificial life?

Dig in deep. Dig into your pockets. Dig deep into the reserves of your heart.

You will be amazed how such a prayer, such an act of compassion, such a “living faith”, will transform the stench of death into the aroma of life.

Breathe deep. Pick up your cross. Die daily.

Get over yourself.

What a breath of fresh air!

Now that’s truly an entrance fee.

And it’s worth every drop.

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Then Mary took about a pint of pure nard, an expensive perfume; she poured it on Jesus’ feet and wiped his feet with her hair. And the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.

—John 12:3

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Howard Hain is a contemplative layman, husband, and father. He blogs at http://www.howardhain.com

Follow Howard on Twitter @HowardDHain   http://www.twitter.com/HowardDHain

If you enjoyed this post, please consider “liking” it, adding a comment, or passing it along via the social-media links below. Your support is greatly appreciated. Step by step. All for God’s glory.

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Friday Thoughts: Pure Faith

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by Howard Hain

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“God won’t let His power flow through someone who demands clarity.”

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20170929_064112

“The Crucified One” (H. Hain, 2006)

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Faith. Pure Faith.

 

 

Howard Hain is a contemplative layman, husband, and father. He blogs at http://www.howardhain.com

Follow Howard on Twitter @HowardDHain   http://www.twitter.com/HowardDHain

If you enjoyed this post, please consider “liking” it, adding a comment, or passing it along via the social-media links below. Your support is greatly appreciated. Step by step. All for God’s glory.

Morning Thoughts: Other People

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by Howard Hain

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Other people. That’s when things get complicated.

Being patient, forgiving, meek, honest, prudent, wise…when it comes to our own wellbeing is hard enough…but when it comes to dealing with the world’s offenses against those we love—especially those put into our care—things can really get out of hand.

For living a life of integrity and peace, of “turning the other cheek”, seems somewhat possible when it’s my cheek, but to ask me to act the same when it comes to witnessing an injustice against my mother, my wife, or my daughter, then it’s a whole other ballgame.

The lamb becomes a lion. I want justice. Now. A roaring lion. Game on. And it is no longer about defense. No, a full-frontal offensive attack is launched. Crush the opponent. Leave no opportunity for the “hyena” to not fully understand: “Not on my watch, you vile creature—you don’t stand a chance—and now you’ll pay tenfold.”

This is all figure of speech, of course. But internally, this hypothetical dialogue is somewhat close.

But then there comes the question of action itself.

What do we actually do?

What should we actually do?

Each situation of course has its own set of circumstances.

But Truth and Wisdom apply to every situation and circumstance.

And that hits upon what is perhaps the biggest affront the world inflicts upon those placed in our care: The lie that Truth, Morality, Virtue, Justice, and Goodness are relevant to time and place, to culture and historical period.

Truth is Truth. Moral Virtue is Moral Virtue. Justice is Justice. And offenses against Eternal Truths are offenses against Eternal Truths, whether you live in Poland, the United States, Russia, China, Saudi Arabia, or Zimbabwe.

And yes, I am fully aware that the above statement makes the assumption that there are Eternal Truths. There are. Period. God’s Love and His demand for Human Dignity are real. God’s reality insists upon it.

Perhaps then this is the best first step in truly defending our families: To know the Truth. To stand in the Truth. To anchor ourselves in and to the Truth.

Day by day. Hour by hour. One Eucharistic encounter at a time.

Here then is such a nugget* that might help us navigate the turbulent waters of this new day:

“The rash man has no integrity; but the just man, because of his faith, shall live.”

—Habakkuk 2:4

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* nug·get
/ˈnəɡət/
noun
a small lump of gold or other precious metal found ready-formed in the earth.

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Friday Thoughts: A Common Question

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by Howard Hain

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Does it make any sense to ask “why” but not want to know why?

It depends on how we see an answer. For there is one answer that applies to each and every question, that fully satisfies each and every query—one certainty that fully answers all wonderings.

All other answers—true although they may be—are subordinate to this one primary and exhaustive answer.

And this one answer has many expressions, but only one meaning. It has several names, but only one significance. It has billions of manifestations, but only one divine presence.

The answer is “I AM”…

The answer is “Truth”…

The answer is “Pure Existence”…

And on and on….

But let us express it one additional way: “The Perfect Will of God”.

If we believe this—if we believe in God we must believe this—then we have no questions to ask. Unless of course we ask for a different reason—a reason other than wanting an answer. And what may that reason be?

To experience God.

To “know” He is real.

To feel He cares.

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For does an infant question his mother’s love?

Does he wonder if she will offer her breast?

Does he ask any questions at all?

No. He cries.

He prays with utter faith to a power beyond his capacity to wonder why.

For the newborn “knows” why.

The infant “knows” he is loved.

Yet he cries.

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And we do too. We cry “why” to a God who knows our every need and has preordained our every righteous desire.

We pray like infants—like newborn children—when we ask our all-knowing and all-caring God a question we instinctively “know” is already forever answered.

We pray when we cry out loud in the direction of Him whom we believe exists—no matter the form of the cry.

For prayer is active believing. Asking is simply a common language.

Either way, the translation is the same.

———

“Why Lord?” (I believe in You)

“Why God?” (I trust in You)

“Why, Lord, why? (I love You)

———

And God always answers.

He always nurses.

More faith…more hope…more love.

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Morning Thoughts: Beyond

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by Howard Hain

 

F. Hain Untitled ~2014

F. Hain, “Untitled”, ~2014

 

Beyond “Yes”

Beyond “Amen”

Beyond “I love You”

You are beyond

Beyond prayer

Beyond is my prayer

It looks a lot like sitting still

Like not thinking

Not remembering

Not planning

Not wanting

It looks a lot like pure existence

A lot like being free

Infinitely free

 

You, Lord, are the Lord of Freedom, if only we’d accept Your declaration—if only we’d love the person we most imprison with jealousy and petty dislikes.

Free us Lord from ourselves, from our most secret possession, from our deeply hidden pride.

Grant us, Lord of Infinite Freedom, the grace to fly upward, and inward, all toward You.

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Friday Thoughts: Can’t Be Afraid

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by Howard Hain

 

No matter what it is. All good options are on the table. All goodness is on the table. For God sets a banquet before us, a great breakfast. Liberty first. We must be free. Drink deep of letting go of the past, repentance is not an aftertaste. Repentance sets the table. A table held in place by belief. Upon which God’s goodness gives life. It is always about life. More of it. More letting go, less picking up the scraps. Of course, if scraps are all we have, by all means let us be grateful. But I have a sneaky suspicion there’s a whole lot more—if only we’d tell “fear” to take a hike—and then take our proper place at the table.

So much goodness is in store.

 

 

 

Friday Thoughts: The Laugh’s On Us

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by Howard Hain

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No matter what I’m going through I feel the urge to laugh when I speak to a brother in Christ—and now I know why—true fellowship reminds us that God laughs at our trifling fears.

 

Rembrandt Self Portrait

Rembrandt, “Self-Portrait”, (1668)

 

Morning Thoughts: The Substance Of Prayer

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by Howard Hain

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How do we know if our prayer is answered?

When we no longer remember what we requested. When we discoverer inexplicable peace and experience inexplicable joy—even though we ride a hot, crowded, slow-moving subway car and have no idea if the specific circumstances surrounding our lives have changed in the least.

We know God is real, His will is perfect, and He never abandons us. We know we don’t need to understand. We know that somehow the peace and joy within us are actually related to our lack of understanding. We trust. We believe. We know “faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” *

We know we’ve been blessed.

We know our faith has increased.

We know God has answered our prayer.

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* Hebrews 11:1

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Friday Thoughts: The Height Of Stars

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by Howard Hain

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My constant companion.

My acting partner, my motivational coach.

Sometimes I forget you’re there.

Such lack of gratitude, such empty graciousness.

But you remind me, lest I forget.

There you are once again.

Right beside me.

Center stage.

All the world to see.

Hard to imagine you any other way.

My constant companion.

My antagonist. My adversary.

Middle of the night, just you and me.

Another standoff. Another scene.

Good or bad, there’s always drama.

One day we’ll part ways I suppose.

But for today, this hour, you continue to goad.

Pestering and probing.

A reaction, any, is what you want.

Like a needle in my hay stack

Pricking my limbs.

Especially my heart.

Weakness.

That’s who you are.

You play your role.

Upstaging the stronger, more noble parts of man.

Clever, cunning, looking for the upper hand.

Curtain up or curtain down.

You’re a character for sure.

Smile or frown.

Jester or clown.

Your disguise is basically the same.

Some sort of wise man, a plot all your own.

But you, Sir Weakness, you are important.

Like tragedy.

Like divine comedy.

You give good measure.

You give the chorus something to say.

And despite your best intentions.

You help establish strength.

You remind people the height of stars.

Without you, my dear Weakness, no hero could ever be.

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Morning Thoughts: Up and Away

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by Howard Hain

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“In the same way, everyone of you who does not renounce all his possessions cannot be my disciple.”

—Luke 14:33

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Butterflies fly.

They sail beautifully and somewhat clumsily at the same time.

It’s as if even their own weight is almost too much to carry.

Hard to imagine them bringing anything else along for the ride.

Paper-thin wings—watercolored and air-dried—the rain keeps them tucked away, hidden, out of sight.

Even little drops of morning dew keep them from flight.

But the hour will come.

Just wait and see.

Still. Quiet. Like an upright leaf.

They position their wings just right.

The sun to burn away all unwanted drops.

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Have you dew-covered wings?

Does the dew of life weigh you down?

Do you want what’s unwanted to be burned away?

Have you tried pointing your wings toward the sun?

Or do you really not want to float above?

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“You, my brothers and sisters, were called to be free.”

—Galatians 5:13

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