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The Climb That Is Letting Go (or the Weighted Balloon)

December 1, 2022 by Lisa Rutledge

Photo by Florian Klauer on Unsplash

This Week’s Readings:

  • Isaiah 2:1–5
  • Psalm 122:1–2, 3–4, 4–5, 6–7, 8–9
  • Romans 13:11–14
  • Matthew 24:37–44

Also Cited

  • Isaiah 55: 8-9
  • Colossians 3:2

As a whole, the readings above offer a lot of hope. They tell me that people from every nation, regardless of their circumstances, are invited to enter God’s kingdom. They remind me that “[my] salvation is nearer now than when [I] first believed” (Rom 13:11, The New American Bible Revised Edition).

Yet even as these readings inspire me, I find them daunting. The first reading tells me that its promises won’t be fulfilled without me first fighting a battle that won’t just be an uphill one. It will be an “upmountain” one. Isaiah envisions the place where God dwells as being on the summit of a mountain because the Jewish people had a long history of meeting God on peaks. These settings seem fitting because Scripture reminds me that God’s ways are not my ways. They are high above [my] own (Isa. 55:8-9). In Paul’s letter to the Colossians, he reminds me to “think about what is above” (3:2).

However, if I take the concept of “climb[ing] the Lord’s mountain” out of the context of the rest of the passage, the words carry connotations of a meeting with God being the result of an achievement on my part (Isa. 2:3, The New American Bible, 2001) It isn’t. Isaiah calls me to make the trip “that [God] may instruct [me] in his ways and [I] may walk in his paths (Isa. 2:3). I have a lot left to learn and to do. The learning and doing will mean letting go in order to transcend “what is on earth” (Col. 3:2). It will mean letting go of the weights of selfishness and self-centeredness. It will mean recognizing that whatever is not God or does not share God’s character is temporary and may act like a weight that holds down the balloon of my soul and keep it from ascending to God. The heavier the weight, the harder it is to get out from under. I can’t just shrug it off. Only Someone above me can lift it, and that Someone is God. But God often doesn’t pry out of my hands what I have a white-knuckle grip on. Instead God waits for me to release to Him the burdens of selfishness that I clutch to myself, though His cross would lift them from me if I let it.

Still, it feels like another kind of burden to lay the burden of selfishness on the cross because it can be hard to recognize selfishness for what it is. It can feel like a weighted blanket I hide under. To come out from under this blanket is to be at my most vulnerable, to be naked, to stand out rather than be camouflaged by the temporary trappings of day-to-day life.

I won’t have forever to act as the Divine reflection on earth that I was born to be — that each of us is born to be. My time on earth may well end when I least expect it to end, on a day that previously seemed as uneventful as the one before it. May I recognize opportunities to act selflessly, to build community, and to make peace while I have these opportunities. This is the prayer that the New Testament reading I cite at the beginning of this post inspires me to offer. Amen.

The Bible. The New American Bible Revised Edition, Kindle edition, Fairbrother, 2011.

Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc. “Sunday July, 2 2023: Readings at Mass.” The New American Bible, 2001. Universalis for Windows, Version 2.179, Universalis Publishing Ltd., 26 Feb. 2023, https://universalis.com/n-app-windows.htm

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Words Fall Short of Expressing Who God Is

November 20, 2022 by Lisa Rutledge

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash

At the start of this week’s post, I think I should confess something: I forgot that with this coming week including Thanksgiving, I wouldn’t be able to follow my usual schedule for drafting posts. I posted last week’s entry and went on to other writing projects, glad that I had published my most recent post earlier in the week than I had the one that came before it. Only just now did I realize that with Thanksgiving coming up, I’m not ahead. I’m behind. So who knows how many mistakes I will leave behind in this post. Who knows how many things I’ll get wrong? I commend this post to God as I begin it, and to anyone reading it, Happy Thanksgiving, if you’re celebrating this week, and thanks, in advance, for your understanding.

November 20th is the last Sunday before Advent this year. Advent will be the time of spiritual and practical preparation for the Christmas season. The Christmas season traditionally begins on Christmas Eve and continues for three weeks after that.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Back to November 20th. It’s the Solemnity of Christ the King. The name of this Sunday got me thinking about what kind of king Christ is. He certainly doesn’t fit some images that come to my mind of earthly kings. He came to earth in a place that was a far cry from a sprawling palace. He did the opposite of keep his distance from all that was and is subject to Him. Instead, he shared his image with us. And bearing the image of God has far more to do with qualities of the spirit, heart, and mind than with the body alone, though he did and does have a human body and knows all the needs and challenges that come with having one. His hands and feet helped him carry out his mission here on Earth and helped to show us how to do the same, so that we could be his hands and feet once his earthly mission was complete.

He’s close to us not just because He became human but because He comes to us appearing like bread and wine and invites us to take his body and blood into our own. Though in Him “all things hold together,” He surrenders Himself to us in this way and in so many other ways through material gifts and the gifts of creation (Col. 1:17). He is not about gaining wealth.

He’s not about dominating others either. His message is that power comes, not in dominance, but in service and in cooperation. He doesn’t force His will on us. He leaves it up to us whether to see with his eyes, and His heart, and to act as His hands and feet. He respects the freedom and dignity of each of us.

He talks about a “kingdom” or a “reign,” depending on which translation of the Bible a person uses, but I can’t think of a verse where he refers to himself directly as a king. I think that’s because He possesses power in ways that human beings struggle to understand and/or to accept. He didn’t come “to be served but to serve,” “to testify to the truth,” and to show us how to live (Mark 10:45; John 18:37). Humans don’t have perfect words to describe His way of living, yet He had only words to describe it, so he used something like “kingdom” (Mark 1:15).

To me, the use of the word “kingdom” or “reign” is about characterizing that God is near and everywhere — above, within, among. And the existence of everything that gives life is thanks to God, even if we can’t always wrap our minds around this reality. To paraphrase Richard Rohr, the “kingdom” or the “reign” of God is about the Person who is the Source of and the relationship between all that’s good. Each of us plays an indispensable role in making that Source and our relationship to Him visible and active.

The Bible. The New American Bible Revised Edition, Kindle edition, Fairbrother, 2011.

Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc. “Sunday July, 2 2023: Readings at Mass.” The New American Bible, 2001. Universalis for Windows, Version 2.179, Universalis Publishing Ltd., 26 Feb. 2023, https://universalis.com/n-app-windows.htm


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The Balancing Act of Life

November 16, 2022 by Lisa Rutledge

Photo by Sean Benesh on Unsplash
  • Malachi 3:19–20a
  • Psalm 98:5–6, 7–8, 9
  • 2 Thessalonians 3:7–12
  • Luke 21:28

This week, I feel prompted to reflect on the readings listed above as a unit and to discuss them generally, for the most part. I sense that focusing on a verse or two in just one of these readings might be to miss their point, to do, in a way, exactly what they are advising us not to do. Nonetheless, I encourage you to go to these passages yourself and see what they say to you.

I think they’re telling us that, yes, everything but God is passing away. But they’re also warning us not to fixate on what passes or on the signs that it’s passing. We can get so focused on the future that we neglect what the present asks of us. If we never consider what the present asks of us, we don’t become who we are in God, and we don’t do what God has given us the ability to do. Such not becoming and not doing would be tragic because to become who we are in God and to do what each of us is uniquely suited to do is the reasons were alive. Such not doing and not becoming means not entering through the “narrow gate” that leads to union with God and with those who have entered that union before us (Matt. 7-14).

There are so many gates that can look like they lead us toward the one the one each of us is called to move toward, when, in fact, they stop our progress toward that ultimate gate. As a result, it can be tempting not to seek the ultimate gate at all, to think somehow that if we don’t engage with the present, for fear of choosing the wrong gate, the gate we seek will come to us. But it won’t — unless we seek it.

The process of seeking the ultimate gate will be a mixed experience. When we travel the thin wire that is using the gifts God has given us without forgetting that those gifts are not the ultimate gate but a means to it, the wire leading toward the ultimate gate will feel able told our weight, even if, to someone else, the wire looks flimsy. On the other hand, when all we can see is the thinness of the wire, or all we can focus on is our desire for a shortcut to the gate, the necessity of crossing the wire will feel more like an impossible trial. Furthermore, when we operate under the illusion that there are shortcuts to and through the gate, we’ll forget what we’ve learned about what the wire looks like and how to navigate it. As a result, we’ll fall off the wire. Acknowledging resistance and desire for shortcuts will help to keep us from falling off.

While each of us can benefit from knowing our weaknesses, we also need not to assume that someone else is surrendering to resistance or seeking shortcuts. We should not use 2 Thessalonians 3:10 to judge others. The verse instructs that anyone who is “unwilling to work should not eat” [italics mine]. Let’s not assume that someone isn’t working because he or she is unwilling. A person may face limits keeping him or her from working, limits only he or she and God can understand and that the rest of us cannot see. Let’s also be open to the work each of us is called to looking different than the work of the next person.

I’d like to wrap up this week’s post by moving from the third to fourth reading — that is, the Gospel reading. I find it significant that the reading mentions natural disasters, wars, and persecutions but the references aren’t presented in a way that points to a specific disaster, war, or persecution. I think this presentation reminds us that nothing is eternal but God and those who are united to God. Everything but God will be created, destroyed, and re-created. This process happens in our lives over and over and again then at the end of our earthly lives. It also happens to any systems we have, whether within our bodies, within systems we create, or within systems recognized by us as patterns in the universe. It happens to cells and to solar systems. It happens on the smallest and grandest scales. It’s not a one-time event. The challenge is trusting God to lead us through this recurring process until trust leads us through the “narrow gate,” and that which is eternal is all that remains (Matt. 7-14).

The Bible. The New American Bible Revised Edition, Kindle edition, Fairbrother, 2011.

Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc. “Sunday July, 2 2023: Readings at Mass.” The New American Bible, 2001. Universalis for Windows, Version 2.179, Universalis Publishing Ltd., 26 Feb. 2023, https://universalis.com/n-app-windows.htm

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The Intimacy of Eternal Life

November 11, 2022 by Lisa Rutledge

Photo by Alexander Grey on Unsplash

Now at the resurrection whose wife will that woman be? For all seven [brothers] had been married to her.” Jesus said to them, “The children of this age marry and remarry; but those who are deemed worthy to attain to the coming age and to the resurrection of the dead neither marry nor are given in marriage. They can no longer die, for they are like angels; and they are the children of God because they are the ones who will rise.

Luke 20: 33-36

I struggle with these verses because they seem to take a view of marriage as existing only for the continuation of humanity. This view of marriage is not very appealing to me. Let’s face it: I’m a romantic. I like the idea of the intimacy of a healthy marriage. I want such intimacy in my life after my time here on earth. So I take comfort in indications from other Scripture passages that if I strive to remain aware of the Divine Presence and strive to let it work in me in this life, I’ll find intimacy in the next one, even if anyone who can no longer die doesn’t need to reproduce. For an extensive discussion of where wedding imagery appears in the Scriptures, search for Bride of Christ on Wikipedia.

The parable in Matthew 25:1-13 implies that Jesus is a bridegroom, and the bridegroom arrives to enter the wedding feast. Anyone who doesn’t lose faith that the bridegroom will come and has prepared for his arrival will join the bridegroom at the feast (Matt. 25:10). Who is the bridegroom marrying? Anyone who has cultivated a relationship with him and is ready to consummate that relationship because anything that used to get in its has been removed. Anyone who enters into that consummation has become the person God created him or her to become. (See Klein.)

Such a person wears no masks, costumes or anything else from his or her mortal life. He or she surrounds him or herself with no defenses and carries no inhibitions because he or she doesn’t need to. There’s nothing to hide or defend against because all has been revealed and all that is not from God has melted away. (See 1 Cor. 3: 15 and Heb. 12:27 and 29.) The guests of honor at the wedding feast no longer know lack of any kind. (See Rev. 21:14) Their deepest desires are fulfilled, so they have no reason to be selfish, no reason not to be fully open to all God is and all God offers, nor are they left with any reason to be less than fully open to each other our and what each other offers.

The reality of eternal life is not merely one of intellectual existence. (Again, see Klein.) I don’t think of it as an eternal staring contest between the bridegroom and all his beloveds either. Instead, I think of it as creativity experienced to its fullest. After earthly life, if we are fully open to creativity at its fullest, who is the bridegroom of Scripture, we find ourselves in union with him and others who are united with Him. It’s a state that doesn’t mean the loss of intimacy but rather the fullness of it—because eternal intimacy isn’t limited by time, space, or anything else. It is intimacy with dimensions beyond our imagination, and it’s unending.

Works consulted

“Bride of Christ.” Wikipedia, The Wikimedia Foundation Inc., 31 Oct. 2022. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bride_of_Christ#:~:text=In%20the%20Gospel%20of%20John,my%20joy%20therefore%20is%20fulfilled.

Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc. “Sunday July, 2 2023: Readings at Mass.” The New American Bible, 2001. Universalis for Windows, Version 2.179, Universalis Publishing Ltd., 26 Feb. 2023, https://universalis.com/n-app-windows.htm

Klein,Terrance. “What does it mean to become a saint?”. America: The Jesuit Review, America Press Inc. 1 November 2022, https://www.americamagazine.org/faith/2022/11/01/homily-all-saints-244057.

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A Story That Challenges and Consoles

November 5, 2022 by Lisa Rutledge

Photo by Giorgio Trovato on Unsplash

But you have mercy on all, because you can do all things;
and you overlook people’s sins that they may repent.
For you love all things that are
and loathe nothing that you have made;
. . . . [y]our imperishable spirit is in all things!

Wisdom 11:23-26 and 12:1

I’m starting with these verses because it would be helpful to me if they were permanently engraved into my mind. If your Bible doesn’t include the book called Wisdom, look it up. It’s an offering of poetically presented but practical advice and encouragement, just like Psalms, Proverbs, and Ecclesiastes are.

These verses are part of the Old Testament readings for October 30, and for good reason, it seems to me. Why? Because the New Testament reading for that day, Luke 19:1-10, tells the story of Zacchaeus and his neighbors. It’s a story that, for me, inspires a lot of questions. It says Zacchaeus was “seeking to see who Jesus was,” not that he wanted to listen to Jesus or talk to Jesus or even see what Jesus looked like. No, he wanted “to see who Jesus was” (Luke 19:3). [italics mine]. This says to me that he was curious about Jesus’ character and identity. Why does he think he can find what he seeks using nothing more than his eyes?

Well, Wisdom 12:1 tells me it’s not just his physical eyes that are at work. More is already going on here than meets the physical eye. That “imperishable spirit that is “in all things” is already at work in him. Maybe he knows it. I imagine he longs for the days when he was a valued and respected member of the community. I imagine he longs for the days when he didn’t see his reflection in a puddle and find looking back at him a man dressed in finery he had obtained by not sharing with his less fortunate neighbors, by extorting his them even, and in doing so, by betraying the call and community he had received as “a descendent of Abraham” (Luke 19:8-9).

I wondered what had caused the behavior that cut him off from his people. I began my quest for possible answers by looking “extort” on m-w.com and found it defined as “to obtain from a person by force, intimidation, or undue or illegal power.” I wonder why he got started down unjust paths. Maybe he was just prone to greed and selfishness. Or maybe as he was growing up, his family barely had enough to survive. Maybe he had felt powerless and as he came of age, greed and selfishness were the shields he put up to protect himself from the fear of repeating the struggles in his past. Maybe Roman authorities were extorting him, requiring him to meet certain quotas to protect himself and to be able to continue protecting and providing for his family. Regardless of why he had become the person he had become, I get the feeling that giving “half of [his] possessions… to the poor and paying back “four times over” anyone he has extorted would cost him more than material goods (Luke 19:8).

If Zacchaeus keeps his promises, he’ll have to face people he has badly hurt — probably not just in ways that affected them in the short term. He may have to face that he has made others suffer in ways that still others once made him suffer. Facing such a reality would reopen old wounds as would giving away the possessions he may have used to help himself feel secure. And these costs don’t take into account that Roman authorities may not appreciate his generosity. Their lack of appreciation could bring another level of hardship — or worse—to him and his family.

Perhaps the Roman authorities would bear appraising if they didn’t allow Zacchaeus to keep his promises of reparation and so they wouldn’t punish him. But I have my doubts. I remember the decisions I’ve read that authorities made during Jesus’s final pilgrimage to Jerusalem. If I had cost like these and the material ones Zacchaeus has promised to pay on my horizon, I have a hard time believing I’d have the faith to follow through. As I write this, however, I pray for that kind of faith. Faith aside, maybe Zacchaeus’ own fear the crowds and what they could accomplish will encourage him to keep his promises. The Lord works in all kinds of ways.

Maybe when Zacchaeus keeps his promises, his neighbors will forgive his unjust behavior toward them. But I bet the forgiveness will take time, and the time between fulfillment of the promise and the forgiveness will be difficult. Who knows what the people have lost as a result of Zacchaeus’ actions that cannot be paid back. Poverty has many ways of taking lives.

I imagine that some of the people in Jericho that day may have hoped Jesus would provide them relief from their poverty — for example, by healing a sick or injured family member so that person could return to contributing to the well-being of the family. And I imagine that while Jesus was in their midst he did work miracles. Yet other Gospel stories suggest not everyone who clambered after Jesus received what they had hoped to. When I consider this likelihood and that Jesus spent part of his time in Jericho having dinner with a person who contributed to the suffering of people who sought Jesus’s help and guidance, the Lord’s invitation to himself is challenging as much as consoling. I empathize with the people who call Zacchaeus out as a sinner.

Then there’s the reason I do find the story consoling. The narrative doesn’t tell me whether Zacchaeus kept his promises. Jesus announces that he’s coming to dinner at the tax collectors house before the promises are fulfilled. Now that’s mercy. That’s “overlook[ing] people’s sins so they may repent [italics mine] (Wis. 11:23). Jesus seems to know that Zacchaeus is going to keep his promises (Luke 19:9). I imagine that Jesus wants to reassure the crowd and Zacchaeus of this. Moving forward in time, I also heard somewhere — where I don’t remember — my apologies if you are the source — that names are mentioned in the Gospels when a person was known in the Christian community at the time the gospel was written. That says something about how things might have turned out for Zacchaeus. But as I go back to experiencing Luke’s story of Zacchaeus as if it currently unfolding, the message I get is this: Jesus knows — and wants to remind us and the extorted crowd — that Zacchaeus, like all the rest of us, needs to know that, no matter what a person has done, God wants his or her company. Zacchaeus needs to know God’s unconditional love before he can give it back to God and share it with the people around him. All of us need the same.

Work cited

The Bible. The New American Bible, Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc., 2001. Universalis for Windows, Version 2.174, Universalis Publishing Ltd.,7 Oct. 2022, https://universalis.com/.

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Who I Am, Meet Who I Want to Be

October 28, 2022 by Lisa Rutledge

Photo by Joeyy Lee on Unsplash

The one who serves God willingly is heard.

Sirach 35:16

Uh oh.

I almost never serve God entirely willingly. Starting to draft this post is a drag. The thought of going back to watching a baking competition is much more pleasant than the thought of having to come up with my own content. Yet I always enjoy having written here, and the thought that someone else might be encouraged by something I’ve written keeps me coming back.

Too often when I’m at church, my mind isn’t there with my body. My mind is either on a hamster wheel of anxiety or wandering in a daydream. I’m most inclined to pray alone, outside, and in my own words—the fewer the better.

Yet I recognize that while some moments of practicing faith can and should be solitary, faith isn’t living if it’s not a group activity as well as an individual one. Liturgies and formal prayers are part of that group activity. The more fully I engage in such group activities, with their ancient, traditional prayers, the more they have the power to put the movements of my heart, mind, and will into perspective and to unite them to the mind, heart, and will of Christ. To the extent that we all experience this transformation into communion, we’re united to each other. This communion spanning time and space and joining God and creation is what liturgy offers, Showing up for it each week is part of my commitment each week to wrestle with getting out of my own head.

Do I think God doesn’t hear my prayers because I struggle with being present in the moment and with choosing to participate in life? No. God doesn’t need me to pray. Prayer is for my benefit and for the benefit of all creation. The more space I have in my mind, my heart, and my will for this benefit, the better I’ll able to receive it and the more good it can do me and the world around me. This is what the verse from Sirach means to me.

But I’m far from being able to fully receive this benefit — and not just because my faith often isn’t as alive as it might appear. I don’t feel as courageous as friends seem to think I am. My default approach to life is not to rock the proverbial boat, not to bring disapproval on myself, and not to disrupt my routines — because disruption triggers anxiety. My default approach is to follow my inclinations. I don’t write this blog because my faith, hope, and love are mature. I write this blog because I want these virtues and others to mature in me.

I constantly fall into the trap of comparing myself to others. I either focus on how my life doesn’t measure up to theirs or how their lives fall short of the ideals I wish we both lived up to. This tendency toward comparison makes me sinful and unwise, and it steals my joy, the very joy God brought me into being to share. And for that reason, the prayer of the tax collector in Luke 18:13 is also my own: “O God, be merciful to me, a sinner.”

Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc. “Sunday July, 2 2023: Readings at Mass.” The New American Bible, 2001. Universalis for Windows, Version 2.179, Universalis Publishing Ltd., 26 Feb. 2023, https://universalis.com/n-app-windows.htm

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Defending Against Discouragement

October 19, 2022 by Lisa Rutledge

Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash

The Old Testament and New Testament readings from this weekend offer reassurance for those times when we face helplessness, hostility, injustice, despair, and discouragement.

In Exodus 17:8-13, Moses, by himself, can’t send the army attacking his people into retreat. He can pray, but even that gets hard to do without stopping. That’s why God works through relationships, so others can support us when the balloons of our faith, which are inflated with persistence, deflate. In Exodus 17:12-13, support takes the form of Aaron and Hur holding up Moses’ arms whenever they grow fatigued from being extended in prayer.

The next time I’m the person whose balloon of faith is deflated, I’ll take comfort in Luke 18:1-8. It tells me that just making a habit of talking to God will open me to closer union with God, to doing God’s will, and to receiving God’s gifts. Even when the balloon of with my faith is no larger than a mustard seed, when my faith is more about being consistent than about growing in love, it has the power to shape me for the better, little by little, like a creek carving a canyon. Even when my faith is far from bottomless and my love far from unselfish, both virtues can sculpt me into my best self. They’ll grow in me — as long as I don’t give up on them.

Work cited

The Bible. The New American Bible Revised Edition, Kindle edition, Fairbrother, 2011.

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A Relatable Healing

October 12, 2022 by Lisa Rutledge

Photo by Marcos Paulo Prado on Unsplash

Last week, I wrestled with what Jesus in Luke said faith was and wasn’t. Picking up where I left off in Luke, this week I see what faith — even faith the size of a mustard seed — looks like in action. I also get glimpses of what having even more faith can do.

In Luke 17:11, I read that Jesus is journeying through Samaria and Galilee on his way to Jerusalem. This man Jesus is totally open to the will of his Father. That’s one way I would define faith — openness to the will of God that, when unobstructed, means union with God. This faith leads Jesus into the less-than-friendly territory of Samaria. Later, it will lead him to suffer and die and return to life, never to die again.

In verse twelve, faith allows him to hear pleas for help — pleas from people his culture has teaches him he needs to stay away from so that they don’t make him unclean and ostracize him, too. Faith leads Jesus to cross geopolitical, cultural, and spiritual borders. Faith leads Jesus to put the needs of others ahead of his own security and convenience.

Faith — perhaps closer to the size of a mustard seed — leads ten ill people to call out to Jesus for help — even if only from a distance, in deference to the human laws they’ve been compelled to obey.

Jesus responds differently than he does in other stories of healing. He doesn’t heal by touch. The passage suggests the people he heals aren’t even healed in his presence. They’re “cleansed” on their way to “show themselves to the priests” (Luke 17:14). This part of the story offers a number of lessons:

  1. God isn’t limited by laws and rules such as the ones first-century people were subject to regarding what we would today call Hansen’s Disease. Yet in this story, God works in the midst of those codes. God still usually works within certain scientific laws, and Divine Goodness can be recognized within any prudent and just regulations we establish today.
  2. Cleansing and healing often don’t happen suddenly but as we are continuing about our business.

After we read about Jesus’ instructions to the group of ten, we learned that one of them “realiz[ed” he had been healed [and] returned, glorifying God in a loud voice, [falling] at the feet of Jesus and [thanking] him” (Luke 17:15-16). When I first heard these verses this week, I interpreted them the way I usually hear other people interpret them. I understood them to say that the whole group realized they were healed, but only one person came back to praise God and thank Jesus.

But now I’m wondering if only one of them even realized he was healed. It would be strange if someone didn’t realize he or she was healed of Hansen’s Disease. However, I find it relatable that someone can experience another kind of healing or another gift and not realize she’s received it for a long time or ever. And I know what it’s like to wait and wait for solution to a problem, only to go on about my business without appreciation or gratitude until I encounter another difficulty that I want smoothed over. So maybe the one who came back was both the only one to realize what he had received and the only one who offered thanks for it in Jesus’ presence.

In response to the man’s gratitude, Jesus wonders out loud where the other nine are (Luke 17:17). That’s a relatable response, too. Who, after helping ten people and being thanked by only one of them wouldn’t wonder where the other nine are? As Jesus wonders this, he points out that the man who returned is a “foreigner” (Luke 17:18). He then tells the man, “Stand up and go; your faith has saved you” (19).

Here’s what this story tells me about what the faith that saves the man isn’t:

  1. It isn’t a particular posture.
  2. It isn’t identifying with a particular group.
  3. It isn’t words.

Faith is a response .of the heart, the mind, and the will that may be expressed by one or more of the above and by what a person does with that faith as she continues on her way. Faith, in the story explored for this post, is expressed with humility, awareness, and gratitude. To encounter these qualities, it’s often necessary to pause in the midst of our busy lives. We are meant to pause, but not to stop traveling permanently. Instead, the pause helps us to be mindful of God as we journey on.

Work cited

The Bible. The New American Bible Revised Edition, Kindle edition, Fairbrother, 2011.

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Faith Goes Beyond Obedience and Certainty

October 6, 2022 by Lisa Rutledge

Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash

“The apostles said to the Lord, “Increase our faith.” The Lord replied, “If you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you would say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you.

Luke 17:5-6

This weekend, when I heard Luke 17:5-10, I found myself imagining the apostles second-guessing their decisions to drop whatever they had been doing and follow Jesus. They’d seen healings and heard a Divine voice, but they were also still seeing so much injustice and suffering. Wasn’t the Messiah supposed to end injustice and bring peace — for all people of goodwill? I imagined the apostles weren’t just seeing suffering. They were feeling it. Maybe the day they made the plea recounted in verse 5, their body aches and dry skin were demanding their attention more than usual. Maybe they missed their families, too. It had been a while since they’d feasted and toasted any newlyweds. I heard their request as being akin to saying to Jesus, “We’re running on empty. We need to refuel, spiritually. And fast. What’s the best way to do that?”

“Who among you would say to your servant who has just come in from plowing or tending sheep in the field, ‘Come here immediately and take your place at table’? Would he not rather say to him, ‘Prepare something for me to eat. Put on your apron and wait on me while I eat and drink. You may eat and drink when I am finished’? Is he grateful to that servant because he did what was commanded? So should it be with you. When you have done all you have been commanded, say, ‘We are unprofitable servants; we have done what we were obliged to do.’”

Luke 17:7-10

The reason I put the apostles’ plea in this context is the rest of the reading. Remember, it doesn’t end with Jesus’ reassurance about the power of a tiny seed of faith. What comes after the well-known images of the mustard seed and the mulberry tree is a parable about an “unprofitable servant” (Luke 17:10). Was this servant disobedient? No. He merely did only what was required of him (17:10). Because he doesn’t exceed the minimum requirements of being a servant, he’s unprofitable. Maybe another way to understand what makes him unprofitable would be to say that he follows the letter of what’s asked of him, but not the spirit. He obeys the master but doesn’t love him the way God loves him. He doesn’t treat the master like a beloved family member. (Of course, a human employer would be called to treat his employee the same way; faith trusts that God does that). Faith also doesn’t expect an immediate reward and is open to rewards taking different forms than expected. In other words, humility, perseverance, generosity, and patience are essential characteristics of faith.

Now, everything I’ve written in this post so far is inspired by my initial reactions while hearing the Gospel reading this weekend. Once I heard the homily, it became apparent that I wasn’t the only one this weekend to use this reading as a reflection—not just on the power of faith, but also on what faith is. The homilist spoke about what faith is, too. He said, “Faith is a gift from God and a response to that gift.” He went on to share three stories. One was about a mother diagnosed with cancer being confident that God would use her diagnosis for some greater purpose and being curious about what that use would look like. Another story was about a nun diagnosed with cancer who surprised the doctor because she didn’t look unhappy about the diagnosis. “Either way, I win,” the priest quoted the nun as saying. “Of course I’ll take the treatment.” If it worked, she’d gone serving God here on earth. And if it didn’t, she had faith that she would come to rest in the fullness of God’s presence. These were the second and third stories the priest told. The first was about St. Maximilian Kolbe, about whose life and martyrdom you can read here.

Only in the case of St. Maximilian Kolbe did the homilist reveal the outcome — at least the earthly one. These stories are reminders that faith doesn’t guarantee an easy journey. It doesn’t mean being certain about how this or that development is going to turn out. It means accepting our crosses, and not only that, according to the parable that makes up the second part of the Gospel reading for this Sunday. Faith means embracing crosses—not in the sense that we have to pretend that we like them—but in the sense that we trust they have meaning, and without knowing what that meaning is, we trust that God doesn’t want us to carry burdens in vain or alone. After all, God sent Jesus to carry our crosses with us and to keep them from destroying our souls. Furthermore, we can be the ones who turn our crosses into ways to serve the common good. We can help others to carry and to find purpose in their crosses.

I, for one, have a lifelong history of not embracing many of the crosses in my life. But I take comfort in the fact that every moment is a new opportunity to practice the faith I wrestled with in this post. Lord, help me. Amen.

Work cited

The Bible. The New American Bible Revised Edition, Kindle edition, Fairbrother, 2011.

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Needs—Both Visible and Invisible

September 28, 2022 by Lisa Rutledge

Photo by Lewis Guapo on Unsplash

A while back, I heard someone say that we don’t have poverty today like that which existed when Jesus walked in the Holy Land. I thought, “That’s not true.” Even if we look only at people in the US and say that life below the poverty line in this country is better than the circumstances the Lazarus of Luke 16:19-31 finds himself in while he lives, there are still too many people who don’t know where their next meal is coming from and can’t afford life-saving treatment or preventative medical care. This is unacceptable. We’re the stewards of God’s gifts, and part of being a steward means taking care of the lives that intersect with ours. In one way or another each of our lives intersects with every other life. Each one is a gift from God.

“Loneliness and the feeling of being unwanted is the most terrible poverty”

St. Teresa of calcutta

One of the wonderful qualities of the parables is that they contain enough details and yet are universal enough to speak to people who receive them in a variety of times, places, and circumstances. The parable in Luke 16:19-31 is no exception.

Yes, it’s important to be on the lookout for the members of the human family who lack the material necessities of life, and to share what we have to meet those needs. That is one of the messages of this parable.

Yet, as I’ve heard and read the story again this week, I’ve found myself zeroing in on certain details I haven’t before. I found myself noticing just how near Lazarus is to the rich man. I’ve also noticed the statement “Dogs even used to come and lick his sores” (Luke 16:21). I suspect this detail would be repulsive to a first-century audience. The possibility of this reaction underscores how unaware human beings can be of each other’s needs — so unaware that a repulsive action from an animal demonstrates greater attention than a nearby human does. Meanwhile, some readers and listeners today might say it’s not surprising the dog showed more care for Lazarus than the rich man did.

But this lack of surprise at human obliviousness and/or callousness doesn’t have to feel so familiar. We can appreciate how God shows love for us through all of creation even as we look for ways to share God’s love with the world around us. We can choose to be conscious and proactive conduits of that love.

And not only by tending to the needs of those who lack material necessities. We can reach out to our brothers and sisters who are reaching out to us for companionship. As St. Teresa of Calcutta said, “Loneliness and the feeling of being unwanted is the most terrible poverty” (qtd. in Brenninkmeyer). We can also respond to our brothers and sisters who turn to us for guidance. As Lisa Brenninkmeyer reminds us, we can strive to be more aware of and to meet the needs of those closest to us.

I’d like to wrap up this post with the prayer she used to close a reflection for September 25th. You can listen to that reflection here. It comes from her collection of daily devotions entitled Be Still, which I’m listening to through the Hallow app.

Dear Lord,
Take the blinders of my eyes so I see the needs around me. Help me to see the interruptions in my day as opportunities to serve. I may never see how significant these little acts of kindness are, but You see. You know. And that is enough. Amen

Lisa Brenninkmeyer

Works cited

The Bible. The New American Bible Revised Edition, Kindle edition, Fairbrother, 2011.

Brenninkmeyer, Lisa. “September 25.” Be Still Devotional, Hallow, 25 Sept. 2022, https://hallow.com/prayers/1008598/. Accessed 28 Sept. 2022

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