Conscience: Gut or Cricket?

Sunday after the Ascension

Leroy Jethro Gibbs

    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  While, in my opinion, the TV show “NCIS” is not as good as it was when Mark Harmon’s character Leroy Jethro Gibbs led the team of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service, it still was one of my favorite shows to watch.  Gibbs, as most call him, is known primarily for two things: his rules and his gut.  But in this case, the gut doesn’t refer to the paunch or beer belly, but to his instinct, his intuition when it comes to cases and finding the suspect who did the crime.  
    When most people use the word conscience, what they really mean is intuition, instinct, or gut.  It’s a feeling, a sense for what to do.  But this can all too easily change into desire or want, having its base in our will and our passions, rather than in anything objective.  Or some may think of it like Jiminy Cricket from the Disney animated classic, “Pinocchio.”  And perhaps this gets closer to the truth, as conscience is meant to have a connection to something outside of ourselves.
    The Catechism of the Catholic Church, in paragraph 1776, states:
 

Deep within his conscience man discovers a law which he has not laid upon himself but which he must obey.  Its voice, ever calling him to love and to do what is good and to avoid evil, sounds in his heart at the right moment….For man has in his heart a law inscribed by God.

This text is actually taken verbatim from the Vatican II document, Gaudium et spes, n. 16.  It addresses both the reality of being something interior, like intuition, instinct, or a gut, but also something exterior, like the fictional conscience of Pinocchio.  While some would make conscience a law unto itself, and cite church teaching that we must follow our consciences, and even an erring conscience binds, conscience is rather our understanding of the objective moral law, given to us by God, applied to the particular situation in which we will find, we are finding, or we have found ourselves.

St. John Henry Newman

    And this voice that speaks to us from within is really the Holy Spirit, who gives testimony to Christ and His teachings within our soul.  St. John Henry Newman describes conscience this way: “[Conscience] is a messenger of him, who, both in nature and in grace, speaks to us behind a veil, and teaches and rules us by his representatives.  Conscience is the aboriginal Vicar of Christ.”  By our conscience, Christ continues to speak to us each day through the Holy Spirit who helps us to know right from wrong, and how to choose the good and avoid the bad.  The Holy Spirit gives us the power to be prudent and loving, as St. Peter instructed us in the epistle, so that “in all things God may be honored through Jesus Christ, our Lord.”  
    Christ teaches us in the Gospel that the Holy Spirit will give testimony to Christ.  Practically, this means that the Holy Spirit will never encourage us to do that which Christ would condemn or teach as wrong.  Again, modern man wants to make the conscience a law unto itself, that is, something which is untethered to any profession of faith or church teaching.  But the Holy Spirit always testifies to Christ, and so they can never contradict.  The Holy Spirit will never encourage us to do evil things, even with the best of intentions.  The Holy Spirit will never contradict what He has said earlier in a privileged and infallible way.  Right now there are some (perhaps even many) in Germany who want to rewrite the Church’s teaching on the reservation of the Sacrament of Holy Orders to men, or the Church’s teaching on the proper use and meaning of sexuality.  They use the word (wrongly, I would suggest) synodality to promote merely human and political evaluations of what we call wrong and right.  And perhaps some even appeal to conscience.
    And while they may have voices within them telling them that trying to change Church teaching is right, I can assure you that those voices are the voices of a holy spirit, but of a fallen one.  Because the Church has, always and everywhere taught, and this was confirmed as a matter of faith by Pope St. John Paul II, that the Sacrament of Holy Orders is reserved to men: not because of a greater holiness of men or because of a cowardice of rejecting sinful patriarchy, but because Christ willed it this way for His Church, and it is, after all, His Church, His Mystical Body, not ours.  Sacred Scripture, affirmed in both Old and New Testaments, and affirmed by doctors of the church and pontiffs, teaches clearly that marital relations are meant only for a man and woman within the context of a loving marriage and as an expression of true love and the full gift of self in an act that could, under the right circumstances, conceive a child; and that marriage is for life, and he who divorces his wife and marries another commits adultery.  The Holy Spirit cannot teach us anything different without undermining everything of what came before and leaving all teachings open to shifting mentalities and proclivities of human activity.  
    We often don’t naturally remember what Christ told us, because those teachings call us to reject our fallen passions and intellect, and live in a way that does not always come most easily to us.  But our conscience, the voice of the Holy Spirit in our hearts, tells us what God has affirmed as true, which will not change, even if the rest of the world declared it to be changed.  
    Our duty is to form ourselves to be able to distinguish the voice of the Holy Spirit from the voice of other spirits or even simply our human so-called wisdom.  We do this through reading the Scriptures, reading the Catechism, and studying our faith through sounds guides like the saints.  The more we do that, the more we will recognize that even when we want to do something wrong, we know that we should not.  If we try, we can hear that voice, and if we hear that voice, we can follow it, even when it means true challenge to what comes most easily to us.
    Our conscience does come to us from within, like Gibbs’s gut.  But it also references that which is outside of us, the inerrant and unchanging teachings of Christ through the Scriptures and through the Church.  May the Holy Spirit strengthen us to readily hear His voice and follow what He teaches us, that is, what Christ tells us.  Who with the Father and the same Holy Spirit is God for ever and ever.  Amen.  

Truth: Proposition and Person

Fourth Sunday after Easter
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  Math is not my thing.  Math is good, but it’s not something I focus on or am drawn to in my life.  There were many days in high school that I wondered whether I would ever use what I learned in Algebra I, Geometry, or Algebra II later in life.  But today, at even if just in this homily, it seems like math is once again useful.
    The math that came to mind when reading over the Gospel was the Transitive Property of Equality.  This law states that if A is equal to B, and B is equal to C, then A is equal to C.  What does that have to do with the Gospel?  Well, our Lord states that when the Spirit of truth comes, He will teach us all truth.  But the Christ Himself also says, “‘I am the way, and the truth, and the life.’”  So the Spirit of truth will lead us to truth, but Christ is truth, so the Spirit will lead us to Christ.
    Pope Francis, may he rest in peace, emphasized this point in his weekly audience in May 2013, when he said:
 

Jesus himself told his disciples: the Holy Spirit “will guide you into all the truth”, since he himself is “the Spirit of Truth”.  We are living in an age in which people are rather sceptical [sic] of truth.  Benedict xvi [sic] has frequently spoken of relativism, that is, of the tendency to consider nothing definitive….And yet Jesus is exactly this: the Truth that, in the fullness of time, “became flesh”, and came to dwell among us so that we might know it.  The truth is not grasped as a thing, the truth is encountered.  It is not a possession, it is an encounter with a Person.

We often think of truths like we think of mathematical laws: propositions that explain reality.  But truth cannot be limited to propositions, but desires to be encountered in the Divine Person of our Lord.
    We can try to limit truth to mere propositions.  We might say: you must believe this fact; or you must live in that way.  But for Catholics, these propositions do not exist simply as Platonic ideas in a far away heaven.  For Catholics, our beliefs and our morality reveal to us who Christ is, which is important because Christ reveals who we can be to us.  Gaudium et spes, the Pastoral Constitution of the Church in the Modern World from the Second Vatican Council puts it this way: “The truth is that only in the mystery of the incarnate Word does the mystery of man take on light….Christ, the final Adam, by the revelation of the mystery of the Father and His love, fully reveals man to man himself and makes his supreme calling clear.”

    And the Church Fathers from the earliest times recognized this revelation of who God desires us to be so clearly.  At the end of this month, we will celebrate in this church, with our Orthodox brothers and sisters in Genesee County, the 1700th anniversary of the First Ecumenical Council of Nicaea.  At this first ecumenical council in the life of the Church, the 318 bishops affirmed that Christ is consubstantial with the Father (‘𝜊𝜇𝜊𝜊𝜐𝜎𝜄𝜊𝜍 is the Greek term; we say consubstantialem in Latin), rather than what the heretic Arius taught, which was that Christ was an exalted part of God’s creation, but merely a created being.  But the fathers recognized that if Christ was not co-equal God, then He could not save us.  As St. Athanasius said, “God became man so that man might become God.”     So Christ reveals to us, in this proposition of truth, that we are those saved by God Incarnate.  We encounter the mystery of God-made-man, which allows us to understand that we are worth saving, that God would come to us and take on our human nature so that our human nature could be united to God.  While there are propositions that are true, we can more easily reject cold axioms.  But if Truth is a Person, then our connection to that axiom becomes a relationship with a brother, an opportunity to love and be loved and become the fullest version of ourselves, revealed by the one who created us.
    And Truth in flesh calls us to go deeper than merely the recitation of facts or axioms.  This becomes clearer when you think about your spouse or your best friend.  I could tell you that my best friend has brown hair, is six-foot-something tall, is muscular, works for the State Police, is married with children, likes to joke around and poke fun at me for mediocre homilies.  You might know those facts, but if you haven’t met Anthony, you wouldn’t fully appreciate who he is and how he is.  I could list all the facts in the world, but the encounter with him gives a reality that stating facts never could.  The same is truth for our faith: we could give all the facts about our Lord, but until you encounter Him, you cannot truly love Him, and only in encountering Him can that love blossom so that it gives us the fullness of joy that God desires for us.

    Yes, the Holy Spirit, the gift of the Father and the Son to the Church, leads us to understand propositions and axioms of how God made the world and how we are to live in it to find happiness.  But the Holy Spirit leads us to so much more than that!  The Holy Spirit leads us to encounter the Truth that surpasses propositions, because the Truth is not an “it” but a “He,” a Person that loves us, has shown us how to be truly happy, and that desires our love in return, Jesus Christ, who with the Father and the Holy Spirit is God for ever and ever.  

Voices

Fourth Sunday of Easter
    Chris Young, a country singer, has a song called “Voices,” in which he talks about the voices he hears in his mind.  But it’s not a sign of being crazy.  He sings about the voice of, “My dad saying working that job, / but don’t work your life away. / And mama telling me to drop some cash / in the offering plate on Sunday.”  Those are the voices that guide him in his life to help him make good decisions.

    Jesus today refers to Himself as the Good Shepherd, and says that His sheep follow Him because they recognize His voice, and He calls us each by name.  But it begs the question: do we listen to the voice of the Good Shepherd, or do we listen to other voices?  Do we recognize the voice of the Good Shepherd in our hearts, or is another calling for us who does not know our name?
    We often refer to the voice of God in our heart as the conscience.  The Catechism of the Catholic Church, in paragraph 1776 (quoting the Vatican II document Gaudium et spes) states:
 

Deep within his conscience man discovers a law which he has not laid upon himself but which he must obey.  Its voice, ever calling him to love and to do what is good and to avoid evil, sounds in his heart at the right moment.  […In his conscience] he is alone with God whose voice echoes in his depths.

Our conscience is the voice of the Good Shepherd.  But too often, we now refer to our conscience as what we simply want to do, which may bear no relationship to what God tells us.  It is not a law unto itself, but the law given to humanity by God, to help a person know how to follow God in each particular circumstance.
    In order to hear the voice of the Good Shepherd in our hearts, we have to know what that voice sounds like.  How do we familiarize ourselves with His voice, to make sure that it’s not merely our own?  We read the Scriptures; we learn what the Church, the Body of Christ, teaches, since Christ cannot teach one thing through the Church, and yet tell us to do something different in our hearts. 
    Part of recognizing the voice of the Good Shepherd is recognizing that He calls us by our name.  In the Gospel of John, on Easter Sunday, Mary Magdalene goes to the tomb but does not see Christ, but just the empty tomb.  Later that day, after telling the other disciples her experience, she returns to the tomb and sees a man, whom she presumes is the gardener, but it is really the risen Christ.  It is not until Christ calls her name that she recognizes Him as the same Jesus she saw die on the cross.  I think about the times when I was younger and in a crowd of family and/or friends.  If I was trying to get my mom’s attention, I might try saying “mom” a few times, but if that didn’t work (because there were lots of moms there), it always worked when I called out “Sue.”  She heard my voice and she heard her name and responded.  Jesus has that personal connection to us, and calls us by name.  Another example is that in the last moments of a pope’s life, if they are examining the pope to see if he is still alive, they will use his baptismal name, knowing that the name he was called by his parents would beckon him if he is still alive.
    Another important aspect of the voice of the Good Shepherd and calling us by name is that He doesn’t call us by our failures.  The thieves and mercenaries who want to steal the sheep and lead them away to bad pastures remind us of the wrong that we’ve done in order to keep us in that pain and hurt.  Jesus will identify our sins, when we have not chosen to follow God, but He doesn’t identify us with our failures, but still calls us by name, even as He calls us to repent.
    When it comes to our conscience, the voice of the Good Shepherd, we are not deciding what is right and what is wrong.  We have no power to call good: bad; or bad: good.  What our conscience helps us to do is to take what God has shown us is good or bad, and apply it to this particular situation in which we find ourselves.  If we find our conscience telling us to do something that God has forbidden, then we have not formed our conscience well; we have not accustomed ourselves to the voice of the Good Shepherd, but decided to wander off to other fields and listen to other voices rather than God’s voice.  As I said earlier, God will never contradict Himself.  So if we think something is right which the Bible or the Church says is wrong; or if we think something is wrong that the Bible or the Church says is right, we need to go back and evaluate to whose voice we have been listening. 
    If we are living a Christ-centered life, then we will hear voices every day of our lives.  No, not crazy voices, but the voice of God, helping us to choose the good and avoid the bad in all the circumstances of our life, which we call the conscience.  If we are following the voice of thieves and robbers, then we will miss the gate to eternal life which is Christ.  But if we follow the voice of the Good Shepherd, even if we have to pass through the valley of the shadow of death with Him, we know that we will make it through the sheep gate and “dwell in the house of the Lord for years to come.”

Running on Empty

Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion

While all generalities fall short in describing the reality of the world, we can say with decent accuracy, that there are two types of people in this world: those who fill up for gas when they’re around half a tank, and those who try to get that needle as close to E as possible before getting gas.  Being the cautious guy that I am, I usually try to fill up my Malibu when I have about half of a tank left.  But, when it comes to our life in Christ, we should mimic those who, more often than not, are running on empty.

There are so many messages that God wants to communicate to us as we enter Holy Week this year.  There are so many themes that I could preach on as we begin our pilgrimage from the triumphant entry, into which we entered at the beginning of Mass, to the Last Supper, which we enter into on Holy Thursday evening, to Calvary, in which we participate on Good Friday at the Celebration of the Lord’s Passion, to the empty tomb, proclaimed to the world at Easter.  But today, I want us to examine how God emptied Himself.

St. Paul uses that exact phrase, “emptied himself,” in our second reading today.  In this beautiful hymn which focuses on the divine kenosis, which is a Greek word which means “emptying,” St. Paul reminds us that, “Christ Jesus, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God something to be grasped.  Rather, he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave,…[and] humbled himself, becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.”  Jesus, the full revelation of the God the Father, runs on empty as He saves the world.  He leaves nothing in the tank, but abandons Himself fully to the will of God.  And in this emptying, in this kenosis, God the Father exalts Jesus and glorifies Him.  

If we were to read the chapters of the Gospels that cover the time of the triumphant entry into Jerusalem through the crucifixion, we would not find Jesus holding anything back.  He accepts the praise of the people, who acclaim Him as the Messiah; He cleanses the temple; he fights back every verbal tussle with the scribes, Pharisees, and Sadducees; He washes His apostles’ feet as He calls them to serve; He gives His very Body and Blood for His Apostles at the Last Supper; He gives so much of His strength that He begins to sweat blood in the Garden of Gethsemane; He takes the mockery and cruelty of the trials before the chief priest and Pontius Pilate; He gives His last breath on the cross, and even the blood and water that filled His sacred Body are shed for our salvation.  And this is why God exalts Jesus: because He holds nothing back for the good of His people.  And this is why God will exalt us: if we hold nothing back from God.

This is one of the many paradoxes of Christianity.  It is only by giving ourselves away that we can gain what is most lasting.  It is only by emptying ourselves that we can truly be full.  Vatican II, in the Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World, entitled Gaudium et spes, says it this way: “…man, who is the only creature on earth which God willed for itself, cannot fully find himself except through a sincere gift of himself.”

In this life we can be scared of losing; we can be afraid of having nothing left, of running out of gas.  When we do it for God, however, we do not lose anything, but gain everything.  This week I invite you to participate in Jesus’ kenosis, His emptying.  After a long, hard day of work on Thursday, give God even the fatigue by participating in the Mass of the Last Supper; empty yourself, maybe even of some of your paid time off, by participating in the Celebration of the Lord’s Passion; empty yourself even of the time that you would normally sleep and participate in the new life of the Resurrection, the new life that will be given to the newly baptized at the Easter Vigil.  The Sacred Three Days, the Sacred Triduum, is our participation in Jesus’ kenosis, so that we can understand and live in our lives the paradoxical truth of Christianity that we learn from Christ: it is only by emptying ourselves that we can truly be full; it is only by giving ourselves away to God that we can find who we are truly meant to be.

Why Advent?

First Sunday of Advent

            As I prepared this homily for the First Sunday in Advent, a question arose in my mind: why do we even have advent?  Christmas songs began on some radio stations on All Saints Day, November 1.  Christmas decorations went up in most stores at about the same time.  So why take this time, this season of hope, this season of penance?  Is it just an excuse for the clergy to swap vestments from green to violet, with rose stuck in on the third Sunday just for good measure?  Why bring out a wreath with four candles to mark the passing of time?  We have iPhones and Droids which have much more sexy apps to countdown to Christmas.  Why Advent?

            Advent is lost to the extent that it’s misunderstood.  It loses its force and its power when we don’t know why we do what we do.  And to understand in order that we might believe, perhaps we need to take a look at Advent again, to capture its beauty and its power.

            Advent comes from the Latin word adveniens and means “a coming.”  What we celebrate in Advent is not just any coming, any expectation for any person, but the expectation for the Person who reveals man to his very self, as Gaudium et spes, 22, from the Second Vatican Council says.  We are awaiting Jesus.  Because we are only 23 days away from the celebration of Jesus’ birth, that naturally leads us to feel like we are preparing for Christmas.  But St. Bernard of Clairvaux reminds us that Advent is really a celebration, an expectation, of three comings of Christ: the first coming at Bethlehem which we celebrate at Christmas; the second coming of Christ at the end of time, which our readings focus on today; and the thid coming of Jesus: the desire of Christ to come into our hearts daily and make a home there, so that Christ might be born in us.

            To help us prepare for the first coming, the celebration of Jesus’ birth at Bethlehem, we use symbols: some in the home, some at Church.  In the Church we use an advent wreath with four candles, traditionally 3 violet and 1 rose, to give us a visual reminder of how close we are.  And candles are fitting because they remind us of Jesus who is the light of the world.  The closer we get to celebrating the birth of Jesus, the more light there is, even as the days get shorter around us and darkness increases.  Even the traditional colors of the candles are dark, and yet the third rose candle reminds us that our wait is almost over, that we are more than halfway to the joyful celebration of our knowledge that “the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us.”  In your homes you might have an advent wreath as well.  Others will use a calendar where you open little panels that reveal a fuller picture of the Nativity, sometimes with recommended passages from Scripture, other times with little chocolates.  However as we draw closer to celebrating the birth of Jesus, we are meant to be more and more excited as the day of celebration draws near.

            The second coming is the main focus of the first two weeks of advent, when we still hear readings of how Jesus will come in glory to establish the fullness of His kingdom, where Christ is King of the Universe and all others are subject to Him.  That is why advent takes on a penitential tone, because all of us are in need of further conversion.  Some of us may be more ready than others for Jesus’ second coming, but we take on penances to atone for our sins that have placed ourselves or another on a throne, rather than Jesus.  Whether Jesus comes on December 21, or tomorrow, or whenever, Advent reminds us to stay awake and be ready for the bridegroom to return.  For at the moment we least expect, He will come.  We light our candles in imitation of the wise virgins who kept enough oil in their lamps to be ready to welcome the Bridegroom with their flames burning brightly.

            The third coming of Jesus—His desire to enter into our hearts—is something that we can grow in every day of the year, not just at this time.  But we take this special time to redouble our efforts to make straight the pathways of our God.  We take this time to level the mountains and fill in the valleys that make an obstacle for Jesus to come to us.  Just as we clean our house to welcome family and friends over for Christmas celebrations, so we should be daily striving to clean our hearts and souls to welcome the Trinity into us.  Maybe we take time each day to slowly read over the meditation from the Little Blue Book, or Magnificat, and spend the time and energy it takes to develop a deep, strong relationship with the Lord; maybe we attend sung Evening Prayer on Friday evenings at 6:30 p.m. at St. Thomas to stretch our usual forms of prayer; maybe we join a Bible study, or a faith-sharing group; maybe we celebration the Sacrament of Reconciliation on the usual days or with the greater Lansing area on December 16 at 2 p.m. at St. Thomas; whatever we do, the key is that we are trying to make more time for Jesus so that He is comfortable in our hearts, rather than a stranger.  And, we pray for those who have been away from the Lord, away from His Church, inviting them to join us again in this holy place, because Christ wants to enter their hearts as well, and He often uses His disciples to extend that invitation.

            If we treat this time no differently than any other; if we figure that we’ve been preparing for the parties, the eggnog, the gift giving, and the hype of the secular celebration of Christmas since November 1, then I can assure you that you won’t be ready when Christ comes: for the celebration of the first coming at Christmas; for the celebration of the second coming at the end of time; and for the daily desire of Christ to come into your heart.  But, if amidst the hustle and bustle of the secular season, you take time to spend with the Lord in prayer, getting to know Him better and letting the symbols touch your heart and soul, then I can also assure you that you will know the joy of the angels as they sang “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to people of good will,” as we celebrate the first coming; you will know the joy of the elect as Christ comes a second time as the eternal King of Glory, with everything subjected to His reign; and you will know the joy of the abiding presence of God as He comes into your heart and makes His home there, truly making you a temple of the Holy Spirit, and the dwelling place of God.

How Can I Be More like Jesus?

Twenty-sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time

            How can I be more like Jesus?  It’s a pretty straightforward question, and one that hopefully we are asking ourselves at least each week, if not every day.  How can I be more like Jesus?  When we talk about becoming more like Christ, we are talking about acting more like Christ in the way we respond to others.  To paraphrase St. Paul from our second reading, we are talking about having the same attitude that Christ Jesus had.

            The sacred authors present two main virtues that we can work on, with the necessary help of God’s grace, that will make us more like Christ: humility and obedience.  Humility is a tough word.  Many of us tend to think of humility as denying gifts that we have, or at least playing them down.  But this is not the humility of Jesus, and it is not truly humility.  Humility is the recognition of the truth before God.  Of course, before God we have to admit our total poverty.  By that I mean that everything we have is a gift from God, and if it weren’t for God, we would have nothing, not even existence.  But we also stand before the Father as beloved sons and daughters in the Son of God.  We are the only creation on earth that God willed for its own sake as the Vatican II document Gaudium et spes states.  No plants, no animals, not even pets, exist in such a way. 

            But what we see in Jesus is that humility is the gift of the entire self to the Father and trusting in Him to return that back in full.  In Greek the word is kenosis, or self-emptying.  We see it in Jesus as the one who, “though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God something to be grasped.  Rather, he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, coming in human likeness…becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.”  Jesus does not deny that He is divine.  In fact, He asserts it all throughout Scripture, which is why Jesus was condemned for blasphemy.  But he does not cling to His divinity.  He gives all that He is to the Father, who does not abandon Him to the power of death, but “greatly [exalts] him and [bestows] on him the name above every name.” 

            In the Gospel passage today, Jesus extols the virtue of obedience.  Obedience is a virtue that many consider a vice today.  We want control.  We want to be independent.  We want to be self-governing.  We want to be our own masters and have no one over us.  Perhaps we even come close (though we would never admit it) to the words that Milton puts on Satan’s lips: “Better to reign in Hell, than to serve in Heaven,” so keen are we to be in charge.  But Christ sets before us obedience as virtue.  He doesn’t eliminate our ability to freely choose, but puts forward that the right thing to do is to use that freedom to obey our Father, who calls us to work in His vineyard.  Even if we don’t respond positively at first, like the first son, who at first is disobedient, we can still use our free will to choose obedience.  And Jesus tells us that obedience is one of the ways that we prepare ourselves for heaven, where this is no democracy, no voting on which values to promote or which goods to pursue, but where we are all subjects of God who is King of Kings and Lord of Lords.  In fact, if we are being humble, then part of pouring ourselves out to the Father is even pouring out our free will so that it can be used by the Father for good.  Obedience is almost a corollary of humility.

            How do we see humility and obedience in action?  We see kenosis in a unique way in marriage, though everyone is called to self-emptying.  We see kenosis in the love that a man pours out on his wife, that the wife freely receives, and that the wife pours out on her husband, and that he fully receives.  We see kenosis in the many sacrifices that a married couple makes for each other: from something as simple as putting the toilet seat down, to the great sacrifice of giving up one’s physical life in order to protect the spouse, and many ways in-between those two extremes.  We see kenosis in the many ways that a man and woman have to give up their own preferences, their own desires, for the good of the couple, who are no longer two, but one flesh.  We see it in the many sacrifices parents make for their children, the fruit of that one-flesh union.    And even outside of marriage in the many ways that people sacrifice to help family members, friends, neighbors, and sometimes even strangers.  And while we might be afraid to pour ourselves out for another, we see that Jesus, who poured our even His very life for His spouse, the Church, lost nothing of who He is, but gained everything because of the great trust He had in His Father.

            Obedience in a Catholic context is often associated with priests and religious because priests make a promise of obedience to the bishop, and religious make vows of obedience to their superiors.  But often, obedience has the connotation of a tyrant lording it over another.  In my experience of obedience, that is farthest from the truth.  Obedience is communicating between the superior and the inferior.  I tell the bishop what I believe to be important: what gifts God has given me, where I would like to serve, what responsibilities I would enjoy having.  He listens to those and takes them to heart.  And then he decides, for example, where I am assigned, based upon his understanding of the needs of the parish and the diocese.  And in trust and filial love, I respond with the free and full assent of my will.  That obedience gave me that great blessing of being sent here to serve.  That relationship between a priest and his bishop is also meant to inform the relationship between each layperson and God, and the legitimate authorities that God has established in His Church.  Communication is part of obedience; it is part of kenosis, the self-emptying, from which obedience comes.  But once the time to give our own thoughts has passed, it means freely choosing the will of God over our own wills, using our freedom to obey.  And in that obedience, we find true happiness, because God has created us for obedience.

            It is difficult to be like Christ.  It is difficult, at times, to be humble, to pour ourselves out totally to the Father, abandoning ourselves entirely to His will.  It is difficult, at times, to be obedient, to use our God-given freedom to freely subject ourselves to the will of God.  Our temptation, the result of original sin, is always to cling for dear life to our own will and our own good.  But what we see in Christ is that true happiness and glorification are the fruits of true humility and obedience.  And the more we become like Christ, humble and obedient, the more God sees in us the image of His Beloved Son.  Pour yourself out to God; you will not be lacking anything but will instead gain everything.  Freely choose to serve God; your freedom will not be limited, but will instead flower into the freedom to choose what is good and right.