“But Deliver Us from Evil”

The following is the tenth of twelve monthly reflections about the phrases of the “Lord’s Prayer” and what they tell us about family life.

            As some of you may know, my son Nicholas has had some health issues in his young life.  My wife Stephanie and I have supported each other as best we can, but I would be lying if I did not admit it has been hard at times.  We are now to the point where we are working through most things pretty well, but as I reflect on the last year and a half in terms of what has been the hardest, I find myself thinking back to the first few days after he was born.  He came to us as our other two sons had, but something was markedly different this time.  Instead of the usual pace of doctors, nurses, and hospital staff, it was as if everything was in hyper drive for days on end.  The tests, doctors, and interruptions were abundant, and the unknowns loomed like an unwelcome visitor lodged with us in that hospital room.  Never before had I experienced such a strange combination of simultaneous joy and worry.  My wife performed admirably, doing all she could as a mother to maintain a sense of normalcy amidst the chaos.  I remember, at one point, it all becoming too much for me.  I needed to leave the room for a while and collect myself, and I will never forget the moments that transpired next.

            The grace of being in a Catholic hospital was not lost on me, and I decided to go to the chapel to pray in front of the Blessed Sacrament.  I could not remember another time where I felt so overwhelmed without any clear direction of what to do next.  It was not so much that something was “wrong” with my son as I knew we would love him no matter his abilities or limitations.  Instead, I was incredibly frustrated that I did not know how to help him.  He was upstairs suffering, and I could do nothing to take it away.  That cut me to the core as a father.  The feeling of powerlessness washed over me in waves, and tears dripped down my face in a steady rhythm onto the chapel floor.  I prayed hard that day from a place of desperate need, pleading to God to deliver us from that dreadful uncertainty.

            Now, I would not go so far as to say my son’s ailments and our dealing with them were some kind of evil.  However, as I thought about our phase from the Lord’s Prayer this month, I wanted to consider our disposition when we truly ask God’s deliverance from evil, and the theme and feeling of utter powerlessness kept recurring to me.  The ordeal with Nicholas was an experience where I could most readily identify with that feeling.

            For some, evil still manifests itself in a very tangible way, such as in cases of demonic possession.  For most of us, evil occurs more subtly but still can leave us at a loss for words and actions.  What do we do in the face of acts or events we can barely fathom?  The attacks of September 11 come to mind as an event where so many of the world felt the confusion, sadness, and disbelief that accompanies such evil.  There are many other examples for us, sometimes very personal, sometimes in the midst of our families and those we love.  We live in a world where evil is real yet often ignored or denied.  The callous taking of life, the violations of human dignity, the estrangement within important relationships, and our sinful failures in the face of temptation are all too common.  We may find ourselves at a loss, not knowing what to do.

            This is the moment where the Lord’s Prayer becomes instructive.  When we do not know what our next step should be, prayer is always a good answer.  Even or especially from our desperate need, we must pray.  The irony is that these times can be the hardest moments to pray because of how God’s love can feel very distant.  Perseverance is key to this effort, and the memorized prayers that we perhaps derided as boring in our youthful immaturity may become the only words we can muster.  We must pray even if the words feel empty for a period of time.  Indeed, many great saints of heaven experienced the same.

            Evil’s intrusion into our lives presents us with a fundamental choice.  We can either give ourselves to hope or to despair.  The reason that we pray is because we are a people of hope.  We hope in something more, in God’s love despite our trials, in God’s power over all evil, and ultimately, in the resurrection to eternal life.  We pray for deliverance from evil to the Father who is the only one who has power to accomplish it.  We know by faith that our prayers will not go unanswered.

“And Lead Us Not Into Temptation”

The following is the ninth of twelve monthly reflections about the phrases of the “Lord’s Prayer” and what they tell us about family life.

            As with most typical offices with a reception area, the office where I work has a container of mints at our front desk.  These candies, of course, connote hospitality to those who visit us or give guests a chance to freshen their breath when coming to us for a meeting.  The problem with these mints is that they are borderline addictive.  They are not the run of the mill, hardened peppermint circles that have a shelf life rivaling an army MRE meal.  No, these are soft, buttery, sweet mints that practically melt in your mouth the moment they touch your tongue and leave you seriously wondering what everyone would think if you ate one, two, or ten more.  While the mints are there to welcome guests, they also serve a second purpose: tempting all who work near them.  It is a real challenge to get through the day, walking back and forth near the candy dish and each time to continue towards my destination without putting a mint in my pocket.  Even with the knowledge that too many mints leads to things like cavities and tight pants, I have a hard time turning away.  That is the difficulty of temptation.  We often sense the result of a particular action will not end well for us, but the lure of the temporary gratification sometimes proves too great for our willpower.

            In one of the most instructive stories in the gospels, Jesus experienced temptation in the desert.  Satan tempts him with promises of food, proof of God’s favor, and earthly power, but Jesus is able to take the long view.  He knows that all that the devil offers is fleeting, that he would be hungry again, that testing God is a sign of a weakened faith, and that human allegiance is fickle.  We can learn a great deal from Jesus in this story.  Though we thankfully would not expect Satan to visit us in person and tempt us, we all experience the glamour of evil.  Like Jesus, we need to see past the immediate actions and consequences during temptation and consider the long-term implications.

            How do we prepare for temptation, which sometimes comes upon us unexpectedly?  The best answer I have found is that we must pay attention to our habits, no matter how small.  The little daily decisions of our life lead to virtue or vice depending on their orientation.  My behavior towards my office mints will say something about my ability to turn away when other, more significant food choices come my way.  Of course, there are much more serious things in life than overeating office mints.

Think of adultery for example.  This is something that has the potential to damage a marriage and family beyond repair.  How do I prevent such a tragedy in my own life?  It is not about waiting for an opportunity of adultery to present itself and then hoping I am strong enough to withstand it.  Instead, it is about the little ways that I control my habits that would leave me in a much better place to resist temptation should it ever occur.  The websites and movies I avoid, the jokes from which I refrain, the ways I pay attention to my eyes and words when interacting with a woman—all these contribute to the building of good habits that leave me better positioned in the face of temptation.  Of course, I do not do these things perfectly, and a collection of bad habits leads to vice.  Therefore, timely contrition and confession is another good habit that leads to greater virtue.

            One final curious thing about our phrase of the Lord’s Prayer today is the idea of requesting that God not lead us into moments of temptation.  Considering Jesus “was led by the Spirit into the desert to be tempted by the devil,” (Mt. 4:1) we may wonder what God is planning in all this.  It seems to me that God at times allows us to endure temptation for a greater purpose.  Jesus, after all, spent his time in the wilderness before embarking on his public ministry that would eventually demand his life.  Preparation for such a task is essential.  Thus, perhaps God’s permitting us to endure moments of temptation is a way of helping us to build good habits so that when the times of intense temptation arise, we are equipped and ready to handle them.  While it would never be God’s desire that we should fall into sin, we must remember that this is exactly Satan’s desire for us.  Building our will, self-control, awareness, and good habits through lesser temptations gives us a fighting chance when we really feel the strain of a difficult moral decision.  We must strive to be like Jesus in this respect, withstanding temptation and staying true to our vocational mission.  No opportunity is too small to contribute to this good effort, even if it is the bowl of mints at the office!

“As We Forgive Those Who Trespass Against Us”

The following is the eighth of twelve monthly reflections about the phrases of the “Lord’s Prayer” and what they tell us about family life.

            When my wife and I moved into our house a few years ago, we had some fixing up to do to get the house in order, especially before our first child Benjamin was to arrive in a few short weeks.  If you ask my wife about my those days, she would tell you that my promises did not quite match my execution because the bathroom remodel that was supposed to be complete before the baby came had stretched until it was time for his baptism!  Thankfully, that meant more help from by brothers and father who were visiting, and things got moving.  My older brother actually helps run a construction company, so he came with some ideas.  But as brothers two years apart and used to squabbling growing up, we did not exactly see eye to eye on everything.  Mostly, I took umbrage with how he suggested doing things, and I let him know that in no uncertain terms.  All of a sudden, he and I, two fully grown men, were arguing loudly in the driveway until our father had to step in to calm the situation.  I remember thinking later that it was odd that we were still acting like teenagers, having not forgiven each other for slights and offenses long past.  Clearly, we had some work to do.

           Granting forgiveness is one of the hardest but most essential things we do as human beings.  Since sin is so often a part of our existence, the need for frequent forgiveness is real.  It is the salve for the wounds we inflict upon each other.  To forgive another who has truly wronged us can be very challenging.  To do so, we almost feel as if we are surrendering, letting the other person win, or somehow excusing his or her actions.  The reality is that forgiveness is good for both people, allowing both to move forward.  It is often the person who was wronged who stands to suffer the most the longer the forgiveness is withheld.  The angst and bitterness envelop all thoughts towards the offender, and we risk becoming fixated on little else than revenge or payback in our interactions with the person.

            Last month, I shared an image of the crucifixion that I find meaningful when seeking forgiveness, and I would like to return to the same scene on Calvary for inspiration in granting forgiveness.  Luke’s account of Christ’s passion includes the scene where Jesus cries out from the cross, “Father, forgive them, they know not what they do.”  This is in the middle of his intense suffering, amidst jeers and humiliation.  Yet, he is true to the Father’s vision.  As Jesus clings to life, he does not forget his purpose in death, the forgiveness of all sins.

            Whenever I struggle to forgive, I find myself considering this scene, reflecting upon how much God has forgiven me for my offenses.  Jesus’ words have echoed through the millennia, “Father, forgive them…”  If Christ can forgive our darkest moments, perhaps we will find the courage and capacity to grant that grace to another.

            My brother and I apologized that day in the driveway and exchanged the forgiveness required.  It had not been a short or uneventful trip for him to come to Indiana in the first place, so I felt even more foolish about the whole thing since he was there to help.  In the end, we made some real progress that weekend.  Oh, and the bathroom started looking nice, too.

“Forgive us our Trespasses”

The following is the seventh of twelve monthly reflections about the phrases of the "Lord's Prayer" and what they tell us about family life.

            I remember the details of the day clearly even now.  My father was verbally reprimanding me for some behavior of mine involving fighting with my siblings.  Feeling that he had repeatedly and unfairly targeted me, I was fed up and decided to say so.  Out of a burning anger from deep within me, I tried to think of something to say that would hurt my father so much that he would feel as badly as I did.  Suddenly, I blurted out, “I hate you!  I wish I would have never been born!”

            Somewhat to my surprise, it seemed to work.  My dad looked genuinely wounded, and I felt a brief moment of satisfaction about the whole encounter.  But when he began to speak, my triumph turned to regret.  My father began to explain to me how wrong I was, how much he was trying to love me.  He talked about some very difficult moments of his childhood, things I had never heard before or could have imagined in my own life.  It became clear to me that one of his driving desires as a father was to ensure that my siblings and I did not have to endure some of what he did.  I felt very small, petty, and regretful of what I had said.  I eventually sought forgiveness, and to my father’s credit, he gave it freely.

            As we think about the need for forgiveness in our own families, it is clear to me that we have the ability to hurt those we love the most.  We know their faults, sensitive points, and even past failings.  Sadly, we sometimes exploit this knowledge in moments of conflict to inflict deep pain.  For the health of our relationships, it is essential that regular seeking and granting of forgiveness take place.  It can be hard to swallow our pride, admit our mistakes, and say we are sorry.  The cost of not doing so, however, is much higher.

            Of course, all of the ways that we harm others through sinfulness also damages our relationship with God, and this is the most important relationship we have.  Thankfully, God also has an inexhaustible supply of grace and mercy.  There is not the hesitation or conditions applied to the forgiveness we receive from God, but the fact remains that we must continue seeking it as often as needed.  We should not presume God’s forgiveness as an excuse not to change our ways, but we must also not make the mistake of not trusting and asking for God’s mercy, even after repeated or extreme failures.  In many ways, this is when we need forgiveness the most.

            For those of us who are Catholic, we have the wonderful gift of sacramental confession in times such as these.  Here, we actively live this month’s phrase of the Lord’s Prayer as we ask God, through the ministry of the priest, to forgive our sins, and we truly receive what we need.  I hope that, especially if it has been a long time or fear has kept readers away, this article would serve as encouragement to go and find the forgiveness that is waiting in the sacrament.

            To that purpose, I would like to share with a personal reflection of an image that has helped me in times that sin has particularly weighed me down.  It is the image of the soldier piercing Jesus’ side at the end of the crucifixion.  Blood and water, representing Christ’s total self-sacrifice, flow from his side.  I have sometimes imagined that, as I sin, I am the soldier piercing my savior and the Body of Christ with what I have done.  Let me return to that momentarily.  There have been moments when I have been too embarrassed, ashamed, or nervous to sit face-to-face with a priest as I confessed my sins.  Thus, I have sometimes opted to kneel behind the screen and admit to things for which I firmly regret and am terribly sorry.  The moment of great relief comes when, having said my sins and heard the priest’s counsel, I hear him speak the healing words of absolution.  It is during those words that I have sometimes found myself looking up to the heavens and imagining that I still hold the lance in my hands.  The blood and water of our wounded savior washes over me, and instead of condemning me, washes me pure once more.

The liberation and overwhelming gratitude we can find in the sacrament of confession is unlike any other human experience.  It allows us to move past the wrongs we have committed toward our loved ones, the human family, and God.  May we have the courage to continue to ask forgiveness of our trespasses so that we can live in freedom from sin and on the way to a life of holiness.

“Give Us This Day, Our Daily Bread”

The following is the sixth of twelve monthly reflections about the phrases of the “Lord’s Prayer” and what they tell us about family life.

            The summer after my first year of college, I traveled to Denver, Colorado to participate in a summer of service at a homeless shelter there called Samaritan House.  During my first several days, we were still determining what my responsibilities would be when the chaplain made an important suggestion to me.  “Go and eat lunch with the residents.  Just eat with them, and listen to their stories.”  It turned out to be the source of my most memorable moments during my time there, and it gave me new perspective on people’s struggles, longings, and fears.  More significant than the bread we ate together was the true longing for daily bread these people experienced each day as they sought a better life.

Sometimes, I would be so overwhelmed with the weight of people’s lives and stories that I would have to go to the chapel right after lunch to process what I had heard.  I had prayed the Lord’s Prayer my whole life, always requesting my “daily bread” but not often pausing to consider what that was or what I was taking for granted.  I had too seldom pondered that my parents still faithfully married to each other, my house intact and in good working order, my next meal never a question, my freedom to worship God, and a host of other graced realities were gifts from God and not something that everyone had.  I soon came to realize that calling this daily bread really was not enough; rather, it was more like a daily buffet of choice and bountiful blessings.

            Of course, it sometimes takes encountering someone who lacks what we have or losing something ourselves before we understand just how much of our daily bread was provided.  We also get distracted at times about what our essential daily bread is.  Instead of closeness to God, peace in our homes, or deep and meaningful relationships, we may focus on things like our houses not always being spotless or our promotions and raises do not coming as readily as we had hoped.  We sometimes fail to take in the songbirds in the morning light or the gentle touch of a loving hand, the unbridled laughter of a child at play or the constant prayers from a loved one during a tying time.  These, among many other things, are the ways in which God showers us with manna from heaven.

            All this now prompts me to take a bit more time as I ask the Lord for my daily bread in prayer, knowing that God already knows all that I will need that day.  For a young man serving the homeless for the first time, my daily bread became the stories the people shared with me over lunch.  Whatever we find ourselves seeking from God, it is always essential to remember that it is bread for the journey to sustain us on our way toward the eternal feast of heaven.

"Thy Will Be Done, on Earth as it is in Heaven"

The following is the fifth of twelve monthly reflections about the phrases of the “Lord’s Prayer” and what they tell us about family life.

           

            One of the more famous stories of St. Francis of Assisi is his vision of Christ at the ruins of the San Damiano church.  The building, falling into disrepair, was hardly reflective of the reverence and attention due a sacred space.  While deep in prayer, Francis saw a vision of Jesus instructing him to “rebuild my church.”  At first, Francis took this literally to mean restoring the church on site, but over time, he realized that Jesus meant the broader, universal Church.  Francis, ready to submit fully to God’s will, did so and allowed this rebuilding to be accomplished through his life and witness.

            I once had the privileged opportunity to visit San Damiano and the rest of Assisi.  It was at a time in my life when I was very seriously discerning God’s will for me.  It was first a challenge to know God’s will since I, unlike Francis, did not have any visions of Christ with instructions!  Even if I managed to discover God’s will, I wondered if I would have the courage to follow it.

             This twofold challenge is part of every person’s life.  God’s will does not always come to us clearly, and once it becomes evident, we can find ourselves looking for different answers.  For instance, we celebrate now in the Easter season, when all of Jesus’ suffering, pain, and death make more sense in light of the Resurrection.  Yet it was not so long ago when we sat with Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane as he wondered and prayed aloud to his Father if this was indeed the best way.  We watched in agony with Mary and the beloved disciple as Jesus breathed his last, and we felt the defeat, albeit temporary, of death as the remnant of Christ’s followers laid his body in a tomb.  God’s will felt very hard to follow in these moments.  We, too, each have our own Calvary where we question the wisdom of God’s will and our decision to follow it.

            To believe is to trust, and even when the answers to God’s will take more than three days to come if they come at all, we take on the humble perspective that God is in control.  It behooves us to relinquish our need to control or even oppose.  This was the mistake of Lucifer and the other fallen angels.  They championed their own power and authority over that of God, and the results of this were nothing short of disastrous.  Instead, we follow Christ, who humbly submitted to the point of humiliation and death but who then was raised up to eternal life and glory.

            What is getting in the way of discovering God’s will in our lives, relationships, and families?  I sometimes find I get myself so wrapped up in my daily responsibilities, to-do lists, and calendar appointments that I have not made time for prayer or contemplation.  Other days I am so ensnared in an emotional conflict with a loved one that I neglect to even seek God in the process.  Whatever the reasons, we would do well to set them aside and focus on finding God’s will.  Only then will our lives have the purpose we so desperately seek.

            Perhaps we have found God’s will but are having difficulty following it for a particular reason.  The sacrifice could seem too great or the consequences overly drastic.  It makes me wonder about the opportunities I have missed because of my delays in this regard.  One of the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit is courage, and it aids us in moments like these when the cost seems too high.  In reality, the cost of not following God’s will is much higher as we risk languishing without direction for years, a lifetime, or eternity.  God’s will is a gift that illuminates the way, and our cooperation, coupled with divine grace, produces results beyond our vision or understanding.

            I was able to spend an entire day in Assisi during my trip, and I prayed a daylong rosary at each of the city’s holy sites, including San Damiano.  My final decade was partway up a mountain, overlooking the city and the lush, green valley beyond.  It was up there that I realized not all of the answers would come that day, but I had enough to press on to tomorrow.  And if my brief hike up that path supplied such a fresh and peace-filled perspective, imagine what the view from heaven must provide.

“Thy Kingdom Come”

The following is the fourth of twelve monthly reflections about the phrases of the “Lord’s Prayer” and what they tell us about family life.

While my wife and I do not have teenagers yet, I lived through my own teenage years and witnessed those of three siblings.  It is a time marked with angst, potential, self-consciousness, change, and sometimes rebellion.  Perhaps readers will recall hearing some version of the phrase “You’re not the boss of me!” shouted by their teenage selves or by their children at some moment of familial discord.  There is a distinct discovery by teenagers (and sometimes their parents) that free will is not just a theological principle but also a life reality.  Once the rebellion against all authority has calmed a bit, children eventually develop to the point of choosing the manner in which they will live their lives.  And while making up our own personal rules for life has grown in popularity within our culture, the wisdom of our faith teaches us that submitting to the proper authority will bring us peace in our suffering, hope for our future, and life beyond our death.  As we pray the Lord’s prayer, the phrase “thy kingdom come” does beg the question, “Who is our King?”

            I sometimes wonder if, by the way we live our lives, that we do not really mean “my kingdom come.”  It is easy to become preoccupied with the square footage of our houses or property, our advancing careers and titles, the amount in our retirement funds, our social status among friends of what parties we attend or trips we have taken, our children’s status on the sports team, and whatever other temporal thing clamors for our attention.  I am not suggesting that any of these things is inherently evil, of course, but when we become preoccupied with them to the point of neglecting our faith and relationship with God, a reprioritization is in order.  If we find ourselves in this state of caring too much about earthly things in bringing about the kingdom, we are not alone.  The scriptures brim with instructive examples of people, the disciples included, thinking God’s kingdom is about one thing when it is almost completely otherwise.

The Lenten readings help us with some good examples.  Satan woefully miscalculates when he takes Jesus to see all the kingdoms of the world, promising allegiance of all if Jesus will simply worship him.  Christ refuses, knowing that worldly allegiances are temporary, especially when coerced.  He instead desires to respect our free will and calls us to himself through works of peace, justice, and charity.  Next, we have the telling dialogue between Pontius Pilate and Jesus in John 18.  Pilate, a representative and follower of worldly authority, questions Jesus about kingship, asking Christ, “Are you the King of the Jews?”  Jesus eventually tells him, “My kingdom does not belong to this world.  If my kingdom did belong to this world, my attendants [would] be fighting to keep me from being handed over…”  Jesus again corrects a false notion of authority and asserts that God’s Kingdom is different from all others.

There are additional examples, but the most telling is the crucifixion scene that hangs in our churches around the world.  Our King is not lifted up on a throne of precious metal but of rough wood.  His hands and head are not adorned with jewels and a crown of gold but with nails and a ring of thorns.  He receives not cries of praise and adulation but of mockery and curses.  He is not given a place of honor but one of shame among criminals.  Yet, despite all these examples of humiliation, our King accomplishes by his actions that which no other authority could: the salvation of the entire world.

As we meditate on God’s Kingdom this Lent, we put aside our worldly notions of power, grandeur, and authority.  Instead, we reflect on what it means to be Christian and follow Christ all the way to Calvary, knowing where that journey eventually leads.  From the world’s perspective, our Lenten practices of self-denial seem foolish.  What could we hope to accomplish through fervent prayer, willful fasting, and sacrificial almsgiving?  We ourselves sometimes do not even see the fruits of our efforts right away, but then again, we are simply following the lead of the Master.