Another Catholic Blog

It seems like it’s been forever and a day since I last posted on my blog. The fact that a few people have commented on my absence has encouraged me to get back at it. I promise that I’ll soon have a post on an article I read in New York’s Archdiocesan paper by George Weigel. Even the men we admire the most sometimes get it wrong. In the meantime, here’s a brilliant editorial by a fellow Newfoundlander who got it right. I’m not sure if he’s Catholic and I’ve never heard him spoken of as a man of either Christian devotion or piety (though he may be). He is unquestionably a man and voice of reason:

Rex Murphy: Bluster masquerading as reason

Posted: March 20, 2010, 8:00 AM by NP Editor

If we are to have an adjudication on the Pontiff’s complicity or innocence in the matter of cover-ups or evasion by the Catholic Church in the sexual-abuse scandals that have rocked it, I’m not sure I’d go to Christopher Hitchens to get it. On this matter, he is, in a manner of speaking, an interested party. The man who “did in” Mother Teresa has made anti-religious rage a great theme of his career. This week’s Hitchens column  — headlined “The Great Catholic Cover-Up” in Thursday’s edition of the National Post — is a case in point.

The author of God is Not Great is one of the most militant, abrasive secularists of our time, perhaps only second in renown to the increasingly tedious and tendentious Richard Dawkins. Militant secularism is a peculiar phenomenon. It prides itself above all on reason, but reason in a very shrunken capacity — a kind of blustering, blistering, angry half-logic that perpetually targets the anachronistic straw-man conception of God as a big, bearded White Guy in the sky.

This is the kind of stuff that gives caricature a bad name. It may be that the very simply devout, in the very simplest of times, held such an obviously incomplete understanding of the concept of the Christian God. But to ascribe so fatuous and infantile an understanding of the Deity to the majority of adult believers is not so much a misrepresentation as a kind of wish fulfillment. It is the kind of puppet-image God that Richard Dawkins imagines crowds the cramped minds of those dolts (as he sees them) who don’t agree with Richard Dawkins.

The mischaracterization is adolescent in tone and substance, something of a Dawkins’ speciality. There is something fatally supercilious and egotistic in the scorn of the professional atheist/agnostic, as in Dawkins’ sneering description of those who order their lives in conformity with belief, faith — Christian or otherwise. “Faith is the great cop-out, the great excuse to evade the need to think and evaluate evidence. Faith is belief in spite of, even perhaps because of, the lack of evidence.” Well, that’s, by Dawkins’ standard, a fair reading of say, Pascal, or Chesterton, Bernard Lonergan, or John Paul II. By his self-satisfied reading they were all cowards, not brave enough for “real” thought, intellectual and moral shirkers. He, of course, is a moral tower, a veritable G.I. Joe of fearless inquiry.

The same dismissive scorn showed up in Hitchens’ piece, particularly in the coda to his loose pseudo-arguments about Pope Benedict’s “responsibility” over the alleged cover-up of sexual abuse in Germany: “Ratzinger himself may be banal, but his whole career has the stench of evil — a clinging and systematic evil that is beyond the power of exorcism to dispel.”

“Stench of evil,” you’ll admit, is a nice touch, even if it violates his long-time confrere Martin Amis’ anathamization of clichés. The phrase is almost as old as the evil it describes. In fact, it is precisely the kind of overstretched and melodramatic phrasing mostly to be found, in early and more primitive times, issuing from the mouths of those very fundamentalist “religionists” Hitchens has made it is his specialty to denigrate.

Pope Benedict may be many things, but banal is hardly one of them. Even the obsessionally anti-Catholic will have noted — if they’ve paid any serious attention at all — that his mind is subtle, exercised, scholarly and profound. Now, what one-word adjective can claim all those qualities I’m not sure of, but I know that “banal” is not it.

As for this “stench of evil,” why does Hitchens choose to tell us it’s beyond “the power of exorcism to dispel”?

I presume the affected belief in exorcism is a display of tormented irony, but I still hold it curious that Hitchens — who would throw exorcism together with the Sacraments, the Mass, and the power of prayer into the bucket of outdated idiocies — calls “exorcism” into service for his rhetoric. It may be that what he strains so mightily and vociferously against has, still, some forbidden and irresistible allure for him.

The major part of “The Great Catholic Cover-Up” is animus persuading itself it is logic, and bile lathered on for the amusement of Catholic or anti-Catholic bystanders. And the piece’s chief function, at least for me, is as yet one more instalment of the remorseless insult-hurling at Catholics in particular and Christians in general that the class of professional agnostics and atheists is so pleased to make its standard fare.

There’s a touch of uncouth high-schoolism in all this, that callow bravery of the 15-year-old knocking daddy and mommy’s most sensitive beliefs. But while a little coarseness and some impudence is, in a sense, almost proper and certainly unsurprising in 15-year-olds. It’s a little more than tiresome, and certainly a hell of a lot (if that conception may be allowed here) less than brave coming out of the mouths or flowing from the digital pens of the pack of adult reason-worshipping evangelists who make such a good business out of harsh and mean assessments of their differently-believing, more pacific brothers on this good earth.

But by all means, read Mr. Hitchens’ column. And then send a donation for the peace of his soul to Mother Teresa’s Missionaries of Charity.

Read more: http://network.nationalpost.com/NP/blogs/fullcomment/archive/2010/03/20/rex-murphy-bluster-masquerading-as-reason.aspx#ixzz0jRNaUhUY

As we begin Holy Week may each and every one of you enter into the solemnity of the Pascal Mystery. May we hold each other up in our prayers.

‘If you don’t have love in your heart you should say nothing’ - Paraphrased from a speech from Michael Coren (given in the context of pro-life advocacy)

I’m currently reading a book by Ernesto Cardenal entitled “Love: a Glimpse of Eternity”. Yes, Cardenal is a prominent liberation theologian and no, I wouldn’t ordinarily have much of an interest in his work. However, Thomas Merton wrote the introduction and one would expect anything which Merton endorses to be interesting if not worthwhile. And who doesn’t love love, anyway?

I’m still trying to wrap my head around the foundational premise and thesis of the book: “Love is“. As Merton summarizes:

With the depth of conviction Cardenal speaks again and again of that which simply is. Love is. All else is not, because in the same measure in which things partake of being, they partake of love. All that is not love, is not. All that which is, has its being and its action in love.

Merton continues by contrasting the moralist’s view of love with that of the mystic. Whereas the moralist would see love as one of several virtues, Merton opines that love is all: “The virtues are manifestations of a love that is alive and hale. And the vices are symptoms of an enfeebled love, a love that refuses to be what it is in its essence.”

This deconstruction of virtue and vice leads to a parallel dichotomous reconstruction, but one containing a marked positive slant.  All is either love or love’s contradiction, but even the contradictions are love - but in disguise:

Actually there is nothing else but love. But this love may live in contradiction with itself. It may at one and the same time be love and hate, love and greed, love and fear, love and envy, love and lust. It is destined, however, to be simply love, without any self-contradictory admixture. And love cannot fulfill its true destiny if we merely try to suppress our hatred, our fear, our greed, our jealousies, our lusts. These evil forces receive their strength solely from love. To supress them is to suppress love. On the contrary, these evil drives ought to be made fully conscious of themselves as love in disguise, and if this is the case, they will not be able to divert the potency of love to the service of that which is not love.

If you have trouble deciphering the language of relativism, Merton is essentially saying the following : “All is love, except that which is not love, which is still love, but in disguise. So even though it’s an evil force we must not suppress it for though it’s a contradiction to love it is in fact destined to be love and therefore it is love (though as as mentioned, in disguise). So it’s at once both not yet simply love and, in fact, love!” It all seems circular and metaphysical to the point of being unintelligible and absurd. It’s certainly absurd.

But there’s a conclusion amidst the relativistic nonsense which has value if salvaged from the verbal morass of ideology.   I’ve commented before that the true mark of love is passion. As the love of the Father and the Son begets the fire of the Holy Spirit, so holy and true love creates fire within our hearts. This ardent love which propels us is what I would describe as passion. If directed to good, to God, it creates a refiners fire, purifying and strengthening love. Perfecting love. Yet if it is either overtly directed away from God or simply disregarded, neglected and permitted to burn freely it acts in contradiction to love. Though its source is love it can turn against its creator.

So while Merton states that there is nothing else but love, I would interpret this as suggesting that love is the root of all and that love is the object toward which all our passions are directed. Everything we do either is done in love and for love or to abandon or destroy love. Therefore, our actions are not love itself but the passions that shape the love we hold and share. Unfortunately, there are sadly too many examples where Christians forget that love is the greatest of all considerations and become enslaved to the rigidity of ideology and the law. It is not the orthodox pursuer of truth but the hypocrite who, like the pharisee, places the law above love. As St. Paul tells us in Galatians 5:15, “if you are led by the Spirit, you are not subject to the law.” As Jesus came not to abolish the law of Moses but to fulfill it, we must strive to fulfill the law by acting not in slavery to the law but under the spirit and in the love of God and neighbor. Therefore, the root of relationship with Christ is not adherence to the law through obedience but fulfillment of the law through love. For the Christian love is the answer and must be in all that we do and say.

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I’ve wanted to write a blog on the following passage for a long time. Please send me your thoughts by commenting below or email me if your thoughts are personal:

“The truth is that wherever a man lies with a woman, there, whether they like it or not, a transcendental relation is set up between them which must be eternally enjoyed or eternally endured.” - C. S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters

I think the Pope has been reading my blog! Or not Merry Christmas and a happy new year to you and your loved ones!

Some commentators point out that the shepherds, the simple souls, were the first to come to Jesus in the manger and to encounter the Redeemer of the world. The wise men from the East, representing those with social standing and fame, arrived much later. The commentators go on to say: this is quite natural. The shepherds lived nearby. They only needed to “come over” (cf. Lk 2:15), as we do when we go to visit our neighbours. The wise men, however, lived far away. They had to undertake a long and arduous journey in order to arrive in Bethlehem. And they needed guidance and direction. Today too there are simple and lowly souls who live very close to the Lord. They are, so to speak, his neighbours and they can easily go to see him. But most of us in the world today live far from Jesus Christ, the incarnate God who came to dwell amongst us. We live our lives by philosophies, amid worldly affairs and occupations that totally absorb us and are a great distance from the manger. In all kinds of ways, God has to prod us and reach out to us again and again, so that we can manage to escape from the muddle of our thoughts and activities and discover the way that leads to him. But a path exists for all of us. The Lord provides everyone with tailor-made signals. He calls each one of us, so that we too can say: “Come on, ‘let us go over’ to Bethlehem to the God who has come to meet us. Yes indeed, God has set out towards us. Left to ourselves we could not reach him. The path is too much for our strength. But God has come down. He comes towards us. He has travelled the longer part of the journey. Now he invites us: come and see how much I love you. Come and see that I am here. Transeamus usque Bethlehem, the Latin Bible says. Let us go there! Let us surpass ourselves! Let us journey towards God in all sorts of ways: along our interior path towards him, but also along very concrete paths the Liturgy of the Church, the service of our neighbour, in whom Christ awaits us. - Pope Benedict XVI’s 2009 Christmas Homily

I had a feeling that some people would know precisely what I’m getting at here while others would be lost… I know there’s an interesting mixture of terms, but I think it’s the description of the emotive that some struggle to grasp. Let me know if you understand what I’m getting at. I’ve received a bunch of emails on this, but I’d like to get some comments in the comment section, please!

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Life can be tough when you’re an idealist driven by passion, especially when you hold an unrelenting commitment to rationality. The soul within you pines for purity while your mind reminds you that we’re all stained by original sin. Internally you are fed by hope and trust, but the outsiders inevitably inadvertently winnows your sustenance, claiming that you are uncompromising, that you are searching for something that does not exist. But the rational idealist does know compromise. What others may not see is that it must be negotiated between the head and the heart:

“I should like balls infinitely better,” said Caroline Bingley, “if they were carried on in a different manner … It would surely be much more rational if conversation instead of dancing made the order of the day.”

“Much more rational, I dare say,” replied her brother, “but it would not be near so much like a Ball.” We are told that the lady was silenced: yet it could be maintained that Jane Austen has not allowed Bingley to put forward the full strength of his position. He ought to have replied with a distinguo. In one sense, conversation is more rational, for conversation may exercise the reason alone, dancing does not. But there is nothing irrational in exercising other powers than our reason. On certain occasions and for certain purposes the real irrationality is with those who will not do so. The man who would try to break a horse or write a poem or beget a child by pure syllogizing would be an irrational man; though at the same time syllogizing is in itself a more rational activity than the activities demanded by these achievements. It is rational not to reason, or not to limit oneself to reason, in the wrong place; and the more rational a man is the better he knows this. - C.S. Lewis, “Priestesses in the Church”

The reasoning idealist finds compromise challenging but attainable precisely because he knows that the incomprehensibility of passion and love can’t be grasped through reason. However, if his mind were to actively pursue this necessary compromise his idealist heart would shout of betrayal. Compromise without contradiction can only be attained when the rationality of the mind assents to the passionate pleading of the heart.

We had a most unexpected visitor at a Christmas party I attended this evening. The pictures are my nieces, my nephew, my sister and Santa!

Kids can say and do the funniest things. These are my nieces and my nephew. When my sister told me this story in the car I CRACKED up! I had to share it… Notice how when I say the “Jesus Christ” line I blush…

I was responding to a post on Facebook today and I saw a comment on my friend Rachel’s page: “I pray that you find the deepest desire of your heart. And I pray that you respect me as I am found by mine.” Seemingly sharp in its context but brilliant in its idiom. The statements reflects the two manners in which we perceive God’s will: when our prayerful pursuit of His will allows us to perceive the path and when God pursues us by intimating His plan. God revealed His will in both of these manners to St. Benedict Joseph Labre. Because this saint received a seemingly bizarre call which required an apparently absurd response, the manner is which God conveyed His will was accordingly pronounced. For this reason the life of Benedict Joseph continues to be of relevance to the modern Christian who seeks to do God’s will as he journeys through life.

The life of Benedict Joseph is certainly peculiar. As a young man he felt what he believed to be a sure call, not only to monastic life but to the austere and rigid community of La Trappe. Despite his sincere attempts to gain admittance, La Trappe never accepted Benedict Joseph and neither was he able to find permanent admittance in any other community. Confused, he accepted his fate and adopted the life of a vagabond beggar. Going without money and shelter, he continuously travelled from one pious site in Europe to another. A perpetual pilgrim, Benedict Joseph eventually died alone outside a small Church in Rome. His path was unique, but there is no indication that Benedict Joseph ever felt that he had failed to follow the divine will. The Church confirmed the holiness of Benedict Joseph Labre by beatifying him in 1860 and then elevating him to sainthood in 1881.

Pursuing the Will of God

As mentioned, what is most intriguing about the life of Benedict Joseph Labre is not only the peculiarity of his vocation but also the manner in which he identified, sought and fulfilled God’s will. Benedict Joseph’s genuinely held the belief that God was calling him to monastic life was and he diligently pursued this path. As Antonio Maria Coltraro relates in “The Life of Venerable Servant of God, Benedict Joseph Labre”:

“he had from a boy the inspiration of God to live a very austere life, as he himself declared to his parents and to his confessors, but he did not know in what manner, in what religious order or solitude. Being grown up, he made two attempts to enter La Trappe, but was obliged to give up the thought of it, understanding from his parents and from the Bishop of Boulogne, that this was not the will of God. He then tried La Chartreuse, but was rejected, for these fathers knew, and said to him clearly, that God did not will him to be one of them. No one remained to him but the very rigid cloister of the Cistercian Fathers at Sept Fontaines. He goes with great eagerness; he enters, satisfied, believing that he has at length ascertained the will of God; but Almighty God begins to afflict him in such a manner with continual illness and interior trials, that these religious men tell him openly, that God wills him in another state and not amongst them, though they knew him to be a youth of great perfection.” (p. 44-45)

It retrospectively assessing the life of Benedict Joseph one might be inclined to speculate that he misperceived his monastic calling. However, there is no evidence of an occasion where he honestly perceived God’s will to differ from own. Further, Benedict Joseph was faithful and prayerful and pursued the deepest longing of his heart. In such circumstances, is it correct to conclude that because he was not permitted to remain in any monastery God had not desired for him to seek admittance?

That God does not ultimately grant a prayerfully derived longing of the heart does not mean that its pursuit did not reflect His will. As God directed Abraham to sacrifice Issac in the desert but then prevented the execution, the life of Benedict Joseph is just another illustration that in following God’s will we must distinguish between our actions and the result of our actions. Following Gods will does not guarantee temporal results. The saint passionately pursues the deepest longings of his heart. When our discernment is genuine and our efforts are honest then we do God’s will even though the fruits may be hidden:

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going.
I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain where it will end.
Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so.
But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you.
And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing.
I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.
And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it.
Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death.
I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone. - Thomas Merton, “Thoughts in Solitude”

When God does not fully reveal his plan to us we may stray from His perfect will. Being human and sinful, we undoubtedly will encounter circumstances in which the temptation to pursue a path of our own choosing overpowers our spiritual intentions. Finding ourselves on a different path than God would have preferred for us to be on we may wonder whether we are doing God’s will. In fact, if we stand looking at the shadows of the past we are not doing his will. We can not grasp the shadows of the past but we can hold God in the present:

“The present is very precious; these are the days of salvation; now is the acceptable time. How sad that you do not spend the time in which you might purchase everlasting life in a better way. The time will come when you will want just one day, just one hour in which to make amends, and do you know whether you will obtain it?” Thomas De Kempis, “Imitation of Christ”

…

But God said to him, “You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you.” – Luke 12:20 NRSV

Understanding and accepting that God’s will always operates in the present is essential to growing in relationship with Jesus and accomplishing His will. Guilt and regret may be an element often found within Catholics, but it ought not to be more than a passing sentiment. Yes, from fault must flow contrition and repentance. However, once we receive forgiveness, we must accept this generous gift and acknowledge that God makes us anew. Similarly, having chosen a path which God did not intend for us to traverse may lead us to recognize our mistake but it is imperative that we firmly resolve to direct each future step according to His desires.

Benedict Joseph Labre undoubtedly understood that God only asked of him that of which he was capable. Benedict Joseph prayed and discerned and then followed the path he perceived. Like Benedict Joseph, God does not ask us to perceive the imperceptible. God asks us to follow Benedict Joseph’s example of prayer, hope and trust and than act upon the fruits of our prayer. If we do this - what God asks of us – we fulfill His will.

God’s pursuit of our hearts

To be continued…

I’m almost done a long post on God’s will. I hope to put half of it up tomorrow and the rest, which I need to tweak, in a few days. In the meantime this cracked me up and I wanted to share it:

Spanish love Songs

This article is a continuation of God’s Answer to Prayer - Part I. If you haven’t read the first part of the article, please do so! Also, you may get more from this entry if you first spend a minute or two reading and reflecting upon Luke 5:1-11 and then read it. Trust me. Go pick it up. Please. Right now…

While God’s response to our prayers often resembles a cross there are occasions when He answers our prayers exactly as we have presented them. Like Rudy, who was accepted into Notre Dame and eventually fulfilled his dream of playing football for the university, sometimes we manage to ask for the right things. If our prayers relate to our vocation - the deepest desires God has placed within our hearts - we ought not to be surprised when God (eventually) grants our petitions.

Yet sometimes we are not only surprised by God’s response but also afraid. In Luke 5 we see Peter and his companions fishing all night but with no success. In the morning Jesus asks them to cast out their nets. Peter expresses his skepticism but obeys Jesus’ request. Peter is alarmed – “astonished” – that they bring in such a great number of fish that the fill two boats to the point of sinking! As Pope Benedict recounts Peter’s reaction in Jesus of Nazareth:

“He falls at Jesus’ feet in a posture of adoration and says: ‘Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord’ (Lk 5:8). In what has just happened, Peter recognizes the power of God himself working through Jesus’ words, and this direct encounter with the living God in Jesus shakes him to the core of his being. In the light of this presence, and under its power, man realizes how pitifully small he is. He cannot bear the awe-inspiring grandeur of God - it is too enormous for him. Even in terms of all the different religions, this text is one of the most powerful illustrations of what happens when man finds himself suddenly and directly in the proximity of God. At that point, he can only be alarmed at himself and beg to be freed from the overwhelming power of his presence. The inner realization of the proximity of God himself in Jesus suddenly breaks in upon Peter and finds expression in the title that he now uses for Jesus, ‘Kyrios’ (Lord). It is the designation for God that was used in the Old Testament as a substitute for the unutterable divine name given from the burning bush. Whereas before putting out from shore, Peter called Jesus epistata, which means ‘master’, ‘teacher’, ‘rabbi’, he now recognizes him as the Kyrios.”

Like Peter, all of us toil to follow God’s will and envisage what its fulfillment will resemble. However, God’s response is always more generous. In receiving precisely what we have sought, but in abundance, we are forced us to recognize that God is not only omnipotent but also proximate. We confront the reality that the All Powerful has heard the plea of a pitiful servant and granted a greater gift than our heart’s desire: “Who am I, O Lord GOD, and what is my house, that you have brought me thus far? And yet this was a small thing in your eyes, O Lord GOD (2 Samuel 18-19 NRSV)

And we are afraid.

Yet Peter’s statement to Jesus – “Depart from me” – is not the end of His relationship with Christ but merely the beginning. Jesus does not go, instead calming Peter’s fears: “Do not be afraid; henceforth you will be catching men” (Luke 5:10)

In John 6 we again see God’s abundance and the astonishment of man. We first read of Jesus’ feeding of five thousand with a mere five loaves and two fish and then His promise of the Eucharist to his disciples. All were initially amazed but “[a]fter this many of his disciples drew back and no longer went about with him” (John 6:66 – NRSV) Now Jesus asks Peter if he truly wishes to depart from him:

So Jesus asked the twelve, “Do you also wish to go away?” Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and know that you are the Holy One of God.” (John 6:67-69 - NRSV)

All of us, as we kneel after receiving the Eucharist, spend time in silent reflection or lie in bed at night, express to God our deepest desires and our hearts greatest yearnings. We express disappointment when our prayers seem to go unanswered but we believe that He hears them and wants to give us gifts beyond measure. Yet at some point we may see the beginning of Jesus’ answer, the first fish in the abundant catch or the first glance of a lifetime of love. Then is not the time to withdraw. This is when the work begins. Jesus’ gifts must be brought in; they must embraced and accepted into our lives. And we will be afraid. And Jesus will whisper a lover’s response: “Do not be afraid.”

This week I downloaded and listened to a podcast of Monday’s Openline on EWTN with John Martignoni. I was genuinely moved by a caller who asked for the host’s interpretation of Matthew 7:7-8:

7 “Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you. 8 For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened. - NRSV

This particular caller seemed almost despondent as he expressed doubt that this passage had in any way proved accurate in his life. In his prayers he never asked for fame or fortune. He believed that all those things which he had requested were reasonable and spiritually desirable. He asked for gainful employment. He asked for opportunity. And he remained faithful in prayer and waiting. Yet after years of perceived silence and disappointment he was unsure he could accept Jesus’ words in this passage any longer. He was close to closing a door on prayer.

The caller’s experience is not unique. The scars of sadness, doubt and despair mark the prayer journey of all who seek to follow Christ. The man who claims that all his prayers have been answered as he would have liked surely stands alone. There’s a beautiful scene in the movie Rudy which confronts the reality that God’s response to our prayers is not always evident. Desperate to pursue his dream of playing football for Notre Dame but unable to meet the institution’s academic standards, Rudy Ruettiger had enrolled in Holy Cross Junior College. Under the guidance of Father Cavanaugh, the retired president of Notre Dame University, Rudy worked his way through college and his spiritual struggles but found himself stifled in successive attempts to transfer into Notre Dame. As Rudy prays in a church and awaits a decision on his final permissible transfer application, Father Cavanaugh approaches him:

Father Cavanaugh: You did a hell of a job, kid, chasing down your dream.
Rudy: I don’t care what kind of job I did. If it doesn’t produce any results, it doesn’t mean anything.
Father C: I think you’ll discover that it will.
Rudy: Maybe I haven’t prayed enough.
Father C: I’m sure that’s not the problem. Praying is something we do in our time. The answers come in God’s time.
Rudy: Have I done everything I possible can? Can you help me?
Father C: Son, in 35 years of religious studies, I’ve come up with only two, hard incontrovertible facts - there is a God, and I’m not Him.

Both Father Cavanaugh in counseling Rudy and John Martignoni in responding to his caller realized that God’s promises regarding prayer must be placed in their proper context. The verses immediately following Matthew 7:7-8 explain the true nature of what God’s assures us:

9 Is there anyone among you who, if your child asks for bread, will give a stone? 10 Or if the child asks for a fish, will give a snake? 11 If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good things to those who ask him!

Prayer does not always produce the temporal results we expect but it is always heard and answered. This pseudo-paradox is only understood by realizing that God’s response is to provide the spiritual “good gifts” which His children need. None of us are God and we are often unaware of what can most benefit our soul. Our Father in heaven, seeing the entire picture, often responds with a cross. By placing a burden on our shoulders God presents us with the opportunity to prove our love. Whether we reject it or carry it says much of whether we desire our pleasure or relationship with God.

Continued in Part II HERE