My husband and I are waging war this year on the ground ivy that has taken up residence along our back fence and is slowly strangling everything else that might grow there, including the grass. However, even in war there are miracles to be found. The invaders blessed us for a very short time with these bright blooms, calling a temporary ceasefire.
Hello down there! God in His infinite creativity brought forth wonders like this. Hikes through the woods often call to my mind visions of Tolkien’s Middle Earth. While out plumbing the depths of nature’s brilliance, it’s sometimes more shocking not to find elves and hobbits along the path.
Catholics walk a fine line in our daily lives, in constant tension. We are acutely aware of the weight of our sins and the price they incurred in the death of God’s only begotten Son on the cross. We also live in perpetual hope and jubilation at the knowledge of God’s divine love and mercy. How easy it is to err on either side of that line.
In my own circle, many of the best, holiest people I know seem to labor under the delusion that their personal sins are insurmountable. I am frequently inspired by the goodness and righteous zeal of the people in my family and community. Yet, they talk about themselves as if they are worthless and utterly undeserving of forgiveness. Even after running to confession, many Catholics go through life speaking and acting as if they cannot possibly hope to merit God’s mercy. With the exception of Mary, we are all undeserving. However, in my experience, God doesn’t give us things because we deserve them. I’m still trying to figure out how to be someone who deserves the amazing man I married and the sweet little girl we created together. As far as I can tell, I’m not even close. Happily, in addition to being perfectly just, God is also perfectly merciful. After confession on one divine mercy Sunday I was reduced nearly to tears at the realization of this ultimate love and compassion He has for us. He is the perfect forgiver. Though I have done wretched and regrettable things in my life, none of them are greater than His flawless mercy for each and every one of us.
Of course, not everyone will be saved. Society has dumbed down many of the Church’s teachings to the point that Christ is often treated as a supernatural wingman; someone to pal around with every Sunday and who will always get you out of a tight spot. Though it may occasionally be comforting to assume that we’re all generally good people who are all in God’s good graces, the reality is that this line of thinking is itself sinful. God is not a lucky charm or a genie in a bottle. To bounce through life presuming on God’s forgiveness is to forget the horror, pain and enormity of Christ’s sacrifice on the cross. His agony and death gifted us a path to salvation, but we are still called to actively choose that path.
Only the sincerely repentant sinner can hope to achieve salvation and therefore, the sincerely repentant sinner should hope for salvation. To aim any lower than sainthood is to deny oneself the full benefit and blessing of God’s ultimate gift for us, sent to us through His Son.
Every year I am newly amazed that the yellow blooms are the first to flower, as if announcing the coming of warm yellow days to come while chill spring rain still spatters our windows. Sunny daffodils smile at baby girl and I as we take our walks through the neighborhood, bundled up against the icy wind. Even huddled against the cold, these outings are still a blessing as we witness God’s creative work in real time.
This may be my least popular opinion to date. My husband recently showed me the movie, Ben Hur during a lenten date night. I highly recommend this Christ-adjacent film to anyone looking for an epic religious watch. Among the things I love about this movie, it has a 6 minute overture. This 1959 classic was created in a time when films were an experience rather than an easy way to kill a couple hours on the couch. They were made to draw you in, take you on a journey and teach you something along the way. No wonder the overture was 6 minutes. In order to fully embark on such an adventure one must first settle into the proper frame of mind and put aside all other cares for a while.
Sadly, even my husband and I didn’t sit through the entire overture. Our excuse was that after putting baby to bed it was already late and Ben Hur is not a short movie. Everyone can come up with a similarly valid excuse to fast forward to the opening scene. We are a society of people totally incapable of sitting still and entering into an experience for just 6 minutes. Even in the theater, the overture has been replaced by mind numbing previews. There is a need for constant entertainment at the push of a button which has infected every corner of our society. It’s practically unthinkable to go for a drive without switching on the radio or a preferred podcast. To simply sit with our own thoughts even for a few minutes is outright nightmarish.
We desperately need the overture in our lives. In addition to being a marker of inspired storytelling, it was also a luxury of a slower, simpler time. Going to the movies was a fun outing and a much needed break after a long week of hard work. Now people hide from the world and from work to binge shows on their computer. They need not even leave the comfort of their own bed. This once communal pastime has been entirely flipped on its head.
Additionally, this inability to endure 6 short minutes of rousing orchestral music at the beginning of a film highlights a much deeper issue among people today. If we can’t do this, how on earth are we ever going to be able to sit in silent, rapt attention before God? I am a firm believer in the power of prayer, especially fervent prayer before the Blessed Sacrament. We fill every waking minute with noise, tuning into any voice we can find for fear of a silence which might allow us to hear the one voice that matters most. Over the din of life how can we possibly hear God when He speaks to us?
Warmth is creeping into the world and causing color to crackle into life like electricity. God’s blessings spark into existence with the tiniest periwinkle blooms.
Blessed in the Midwest 