Wednesday Witness: How Do I Love Me?

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways…

The 19th-century poet Elizabeth Barrett Browning asked the question above in her Sonnet 43. This morning, I ask a different question: How do I love ME?

I am currently reading the book Happy Are You Poor by Father Thomas Dubay, SM. It is a hard, convicting read about taking seriously the Gospel’s words regarding wealth, poverty, possessions, and sharing with those in need. What has struck me hardest thus far is Father Dubay’s insistence on the actual words of Jesus—currently, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself” (Matthew 22:39, cf. Leviticus 19:18).

How do I love myself? Among other ways:

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Wednesday Witness: The Father’s Heart … In Us

Last Saturday I was blessed to go to the Men’s Lenten Event at St. Michael Catholic Church, with our former associate Father Nathan LaLiberte presenting. Father Nathan celebrated Mass before the event, and his homily left a mark on my heart for ministering to those in need.

The gospel was the familiar Parable of the Prodigal Son (or the Forgiving Father). He opened by noting that this powerful and thought-provoking story only appears in St. Luke’s gospel. Why did a Gentile include this story when the Jewish evangelists did not? Father suggested a Jewish audience, like many rules-based Christians today, would struggle to accept the superabundant mercy of the father in the story.

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Wednesday Witness: Borders and Boundaries

A few years ago, I worked for the Church of Saint Andrew in Elk River. The parish had a strong charism of service to those in need and a growing Hispanic community. I was able to get to know a few immigrant families through the Faith Formation and sacrament programs, as well as the parish’s Hispanic liaison. The experience gave my valuable perspective on the conditions that might cause someone to uproot their family and cross our southern border (whether legally or illegally) in search of a better life.

Saint Andrew also had an annual mission trip to Mexico. Invariably, the parishioners who traveled and served in the barrios south of the border came back with one overriding impression: Poverty there is often a deeper, darker thing than poverty here at home.

As a result of these encounters, I often found myself asking: What would I be willing to do to protect and provide for my family?

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Wednesday Witness: Digging Deeper the Right Way

Awhile back, Facebook served up to me an ad for sarcastic coffee mugs, including one that read “No One Cares. Work Harder.” I recognized it right away as that strain of humor that laments how soft we have become, how prone we are to excuses and taking the easy way out of tough situations—but it didn’t seem funny. 

See, I tend to think I need to handle whatever comes my way in order to measure up. I don’t want to fail or let anyone down, and I struggle to say no or ask for help. Reading that mug felt like the world’s weight settling on my shoulders: I’ll never be caught up. I’ll never retire. I’ll never rest.

Doing good work well is a virtue, but when our efforts become a relentless slog to do more, something changes. An old friend tells me that BUSY means Burdened Under Satan’s Yoke—because, as you’ll recall, Jesus says to take up His yoke, and we will find rest.

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Wednesday Witness: Belong, Believe, Behave

Over the past week or so, I’ve found myself reflecting on a homily delivered by Father Richards some years ago. I have written about it before; the gist of the message was this:

  • People in a group or community often insist that those who want to join behave properly and believe correctly in order to belong (Behave, Believe, Belong).
  • People on the margins, however, need a place to belong, where they can come to believe, and learn to behave (Belong, Believe, Behave).

Belong, Believe, Behave is the natural order of things. From the moment we are born into a family, we need secure attachments to our parents to form healthy, ordered relationships and learn to navigate the world. But once we find our place in the world, we often lose sight of the fact that we ever weren’t a part of it.

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