When we were in grade school, we probably heard the
phrase: “God is love.” For those of us who have heard this throughout our
lives, it may be easy to gloss over—but for someone who wonders about the
goodness of God, this is quite the statement. “God is love”—He is good, goodness straight
through.
But let us peel this back a little. When we say that God
is love, we mean more than just God loves you. We are also talking about who
God is. Love, by definition, is relational; it requires at least two persons
(else it is not truly the self-sacrificial love that Jesus reveals love to be
on the Cross). So, already, we know something about God: there must be at least
two Persons. And this is true: there is the Father and the Son. And they love
each other. The Son, for example, when He is dying on the Cross, dies not only
for love of us, but also for love of His Father. And the Father, who is the
inspiration for the father in the Prodigal Son story, receives His Son, Jesus,
with great love.
And, together, their love is so perfect, so good, so
eternal, and so divine that their love is God and a third person: the Holy
Spirit. Together, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are God: three persons, and
yet one—the Holy Trinity. In common language, we would say that God is, in His
very essence, family; community. And not “He is like a family”—no, God is the
inspiration and the source for every family. We are the image—He is the source.
Everything about our faith redounds to this, that God so
loved the world that He sent His only Son. And for what purpose? So that we may
be in communion with Him. Yes, not only can we say that “God is love” and that “God
loves me,” but also that God wants to be in communion with us—He wants us to be
brought into one with Him. This is what Jesus prays on the night before He
dies: “Father… may they all be one; even as you, Father, are in me, and I
in you, that they also may be in us…”
(Jn 17:21) Or, easlier, when Jesus promised the Holy Spirit, He said: “In that day [that is,
Pentecost] you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you”
(Jn 14:20). That’s pretty awesome. Indeed,
we are made for this.
* * *
When God created us, going all the way back to Genesis,
He said: “Let us make man in our image” (Gen 1:26). Notice the pronouns there.
They are plural. (A nod to the Trinity). But notice, too, how we are made: we
are made in the image of God. And who is God again? Love—a communion of persons
whose life is love. In other words, at the heart of every one of us is the
image of the Trinity—indeed, we are made for love and community. Hence, God
immediately thereafter says: “It is not good for man to be alone” (Gen 2:18).
This isn’t just a statement about how a man needs a women
else the man will starve (haha!). It’s not simply a statement about marriage.
No, it’s a statement about who we are: that is, it is not good for us to be
isolated; we are made for communion and when we isolate ourselves, it is not
good. And why is it not good? Because our hearts are most alive and are truly
discovering the goodness of God when we love and experience love. Selfishness
breeds a sadness in our heart—an isolation that doesn’t allow itself to be
loved or believe that it can be loved.
In our world, the enemy is working overtime to isolate
and divide us. There is the stereotypical scene at the restaurant as the people
in the booth aren’t talking to each other, but texting on their phones.
Choosing to be on our phones is a choice to be alone. In some ways, it’s
easier. We don’t have to be creative and come up with conversation or use our
imagination to discover the person next to us. Yes, it’s so easy to just be
alone.
Our social structures are not helping much, either. So many
of us live in subdivisions and the houses are close by and it gives the
illusion that we live in a community. But, honestly, so many people do not
actually know their neighbors. Have you had them over for dinner? Or they you?
I give communion to the sick and I can tell you they are all throughout our
subdivisions and yet very few people know that the sick and elderly are there
and that they are suffering. Alone.
And we don’t mean to be—it’s just that, either from our
youthful days or in college, we got caught up in the me-project: “I’ve got a
paper to write… I have to study for my test…” And then it is about me getting
into a good school; and then me getting a good job; and then me getting a good
place to live—I don’t have time to get married. People are actually saying
this. I don’t have time for a family. And that’s true when life is isolated in
the confines of self. Phone calls to parents—much less letter-writing-- is all
but dead.
These trends translate into religion as well. It’s all
about “me and Jesus” or “I am spiritual but not religious.” Neither of these
statements embraces community (community which is a hallmark of religion); it simply embraces the self. And that’s a shame, because I know of so many
young couples that are overwhelmed by having a kid or two and they feel as
though they are going it alone and re-inventing the wheel, when in reality all
they need to do is seek the wisdom of some of the couples here in this
community. But few do that. And for whatever reason. Sometimes, people don’t
want to inconvenience others. Maybe it’s easier to go it alone…
And let’s be frank: the enemy tries to drive a wedge in
communities. Must I mention politics? Yes, politics are important. But I had a
funeral some time ago where the parent had died and a couple of the kids were
alienated from their parent because of their differing ideas in the political
realm. Thankfully, just days before the parent passed, they reconciled. But the
kids expressed deep regret—regret that something so passing and oftentimes so
juvenile as politics got in the way of one of the most meaningful of
relationships: that of a parent and a child. Yes, dear friends, we often get
divided by who’s on the left and who’s on the right and we forget that there is
an up and a down—up is where there is communion and heaven and the saints and
love; down is isolation and regret and hell.
You see: community is really hard. It takes work. And the
fact of the matter is: people can be annoying. Priests can be annoying. I can
be annoying. It takes practice and messing up and struggle and love to bite one’s
own tongue and to listen and to not react, but to love. This is why we need
community, else we live in echo chambers where, if our positions are threatened
in any way, we don’t have the patience to be charitable and courteous. And to
grow.
* * *
God is love. And it is not enough to simply note and
fight against the isolating trends in our culture. We must also teach how to
care for our community. This requires teaching our children not only about
rights but also responsibilities.
I hear of so many people who talk about how their grown
child lives in their basement, focuses on the electronics, and is a bear to get
them to make a contribution to the family and the home. Something must be done
to help curb this epidemic. I offer this humble solution—which is not mine, but
which I have gleaned from my conversations with all of you. Here’s how it goes:
Say you have a little son, Johnny, and he’s eight. At
eight, he adores his dad and loves whatever he loves.
Ok, so, “Johnny, do you see mom
there making dinner?”
“Yeah, dad.”
“Mom’s great isn’t she?”
“Yeah dad!”
“You love her, right?”
“Of course, dad.”
“Ok, if you love her, then go
help her. Because if you love, you help.”
And suddenly little Johnny is connecting the dots: that
if we love, we must respond. We cannot sit idly by and let mom do everything.
Love requires a response. Great lesson. And eight year olds understand this.
Later, when Johnny is twelve, a new conversation is had:
“Johnny,
you’re becoming a young man, so I’m sure you’ve noticed something.”
“What’s
that, dad?”
“Well, every week, mom and me do
the same things over and over: take out the trash, fold the laundry, set the
table, and so on. You’ve notice that, right?”
“Well, now that you
point it out, yeah.”
“And know you love us, but you’re
smart and you’re becoming a young man, so I don’t have to tell you what to do—I
mean, I have to tell your sister to always help mom, but you: you’re becoming a
young man, right?”
At twelve, young boys don’t want to be treated like
babies (sometimes they do if they are hurting), but most of the time, they want
to be seen as one of the big boys.
“Ok, so I don’t have to always
point out what has to be done. You can see it and do it without me even having
to tell you, right?”
“Absolutely,
dad.”
“Ok, I’m
relying on you. So, from that list that you know of, what will you do?”
Johnny is starting to learn initiative. He wants to be a
young man, a contributor, a leader. So, ok, let’s give him the reigns and tell
him that he has them: “I’m relying on you.”
Finally, when Johnny is fifteen or so and he’s going by “John,”
another conversation can be had—something from The Lion King:
“John, you’re becoming a man and
I want to have an adult conversation with you. I’m getting old and some day
this will all be yours—you’ll have a house of your own and family to take care
of. And I won’t be around to tell you to love mom or to remember your list, but
you are going to have to look around you and see what needs to be done and to
do it. So, I want you to look around our home. You’ll notice that I’ve done
work on it and made some improvements. Tell me: what do you think? What needs
to be done around here?—something I may not have thought of.
And he starts to think about it. And you walk him
through. And help him as he struggles to begin to contribute to the home and to
the family—as he struggles to love. In other words, we are teaching him
ownership, how to own and feel responsible for his community.
And this is precisely where he should be learning this.
Too often, our kids are sent off to college and they have no idea not only how
to take care of themselves (mom always took care of everything!), but they have
no idea how to contribute to the community. Thus begins the me-project.
* * *
Of course, I’m not talking about some fictional dad and
his son. I’m talking about me and you. I’m that dad and you are my spiritual
children. And I want us to grow in response, in initiative, and in ownership.
Response: I know you love the parish. And we have things
to do around here. There is a parish picnic coming up. If you love, then help
out. And, I know, some of you are saying, “I’m old, I’ve put in my time.” Ok,
first: thank you for helping out so much. But we don’t retire from the
community, we don’t retire from love. Teenagers in the basement say “I’m too
old to be helping mom with dinner tonight.”
Initiative: I know you know the many things that go on at
this parish beyond Sunday. Which ones are you going to do? Monsignor doesn’t
have to personally invite you every time in order to do something, right? I
mean, we are adults here, right? And we aren’t focused solely on the me-project—so
we do have time, right? Take initiative.
Ownership: look out over the parish, and not only the
parish, but the Cottleville area. What needs to be done? Again, I know there
are many sick and elderly people in our subdivisions. We have to own that. When
we own something, we feel responsible for it. We need to feel responsible that
there are people out there who are alone and isolated and going to die alone
and isolated. We have to own that. What else needs to be done? What can we do
better?
Because it is not good for man to be alone. Because we
are made in the image of God. God who is love. God who is Holy Trinity,
community, family, unity. This is our faith. This is the faith of the Church.
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