Snow and Mercy

I need to talk about the snow for a moment. There are many things on this Earth, many natural things, that I experience no end of enjoyment whenever I have the opportunity to partake of their sights, sounds, or smells. But with everything else out there, I have always found snow to be the most calming, peaceful, and beautiful. At a time when the world seems to be in its darkest depths, filled with death in the failing plants, the already fallen leaves, the brown grass, lacking light in the short days, cold with the most chill winds, secluded and lonely as people remain hidden in their heated houses, as hopeless and despairing as the world can ever become.... Then, the snow starts to drift down from the sky, pure and white and beautiful, covering up the flaws in the world with its forgiving blanket, giving grace to the wind as the flakes dance in the air, adding light as every beam shines brightly off the unscathed surface covering the ground, bringing company as people emerge from their houses to enjoy all the delights that snow can bring from simple looking to snow angels, snowmen, and sledding. And with the snow, the world is no longer hopeless, despairing, and lonely. It's a place filled with love, with grace, with forgiveness. I never could have explained this before I became Catholic, but I've felt it all my life, and still feel it now. I've always viewed the snow as something not only beautiful but hopeful, and, when needed, forgiving. Now I simply know how to say it; I know what it means to have grace that falls down and covers my flaws, my sins, erases them to offer a new start every time.

Your Best Effort

I recently had occassion to be reminded of the story of the lady who gave her last alm, and in doing so gave more than all the rich who gave only a small percent of what they had. Throughout the course of the conversation, something was pointed out - something that, really, should have been obvious to a theology major, had I ever bothered to think about it - that passage can mean more than money.

The point is that the woman refered to gave all that she had to God, not just that she gave Him money. It might not be our calling to put every last cent we make into a collection basket, but that doesn't mean there aren't many other ways in which we can give Him everything. Nothing we do in God's name should be done half-heartedly. However it is that we are serving God, in our vocation, at Mass, in the love we give the people around us and the services we do for them - if we don't put our best effort into those services, we are not giving all we have to God. We're only giving half, or a quarter, or whatever percentage of our efforts we bother to put to use at that moment in time. If we look at our neighbor and say, "I'll do only this much for you," we're a rich man giving only a portion of what we have in abundance. But when we can look at our neighbor, or look to whatever service it is we're performing, and say, "Here is everything I can give to you or do for you," we're like the poor woman who out of love gave all she could. However little that service might be, it's always a great service because we gave the most and best we had, and worth much more in God's eyes than the larger services we put no care or effort into.

Why Attend Mass

One of the biggest complains I used to receive from non-Catholics involved the requirement to go to Mass.  Why, after all, should be be forced to attend a church and follow someone else's rituals when we can just as easily fall on our knees in our living room and worship God for a while?  Does He not hear us either way?  Do we have to prove our love for Him by showing up, to either Him or others?

For someone already Catholic the answer is easy.  Jesus is there in the Body and Blood.  So profound and yet so simple.

I don't expect anyone who does not believe in the Real Presence to accept that as a valid reason without raising another larger set of questions, but perhaps there is an answer that ties is to it yet would make sense, something else so simple that we might have trouble remembering it ourselves.

The answer?  The love of God.  His for us, and ours for Him.  The love between the Bridegroom and His bride.  Even I know that when someone is dating, they do not choose to stay in their living room every evening professing love for each other in such a mundane location.  There are movies and dances and dinners in fancy restaurants, places specifically set aside to be in the presence of the beloved.  Someone who is in love desires more than anything to spend time with the beloved, and sets aside specific times and proper places in which to spend this time.  Who would approach the beloved only to say, "Hey, I want to spend time with you, but my living room is good enough.  I don't need to go anywhere special to prove it to you."  It may not be necessary to prove that love; but because you have that love, you want to go out and show it.

The chance to go spend time with God is never so much a demand as an invitation.  An invitation to spend time with the one we love, with one who loves us.  An invitation for us to take time out of our busy schedules for our own good and rest in a place that has been specifically set aside to build our relationship with Him.  He is asking us on a weekly date, and we should joyfully go to meet Him, eager to bask in His love for us and return our own.

For those of us who are Catholic, how much more important that we can receive the greatest gift possible - the Eucharist - whenever we show up, hearts prepared to receive His gift.  God is inviting us to somewhere special to spend an hour with Him, talking with Him, listing to Him, loving each other; why would we turn down the amazing gift He is offering us, and ever proclaim our living room "good enough?'