In a very thoughtful column for our Sept. 10 issue of The Catholic Commentator, Bishop (Michael G.) Duca urged us to change our goal of “getting back to normal” after a year and a half of a pandemic and then Hurricane Ida, to following Jesus’ command to “love one another.” He quoted St. Paul, “If one part of the body suffers, the whole body suffers.” In other words, we have to remember that it is not just about us. We are here to care for our brothers and sisters in our wider community, even across state lines. When possible, we all should become “first responders” in some way.
Jesus was practical. When asked for a summary of the Law of Moses, he replied, “Love God with your whole mind, your whole heart and your whole strength. And love your neighbor as yourself.” Yes, we have to take care of ourselves but for a double purpose. The second purpose is so that we can take care of our neighbor. And we have to love our neighbor with the same measure as we love ourselves, and sometimes more. One commentator interprets Jesus as meaning that we think of ourselves too often but to that same extent we should think of others. That thinking of others more than of ourselves becomes sacrificial love as demonstrated by Jesus on the cross, by St. Paul in his own life and teachings, by so many missionaries and martyrs and not least by parents.
St. Paul was a wonderful example. Having been converted miraculously by Jesus himself, St. Paul, a pharisee not used to hard labor, taught himself the trade of a tentmaker. He didn’t want to depend for money on those he wished to convert, lest they become suspicious of his motives and not readily understand the Jesus-love he preached. How much he lived his own message can be seen in his advice to the Philippians: “Let each of you look not to your own interests but to the interests of others” (Phil 2:4). They repaid him with a generous donation to the poor in Jerusalem whom he had promised the leaders there, St. Peter, St. James and St. John, to help.
Throughout his ministry Jesus preached unselfish love and gave his disciples examples of it. In St. John’s account of the Last Supper, he records how Jesus wrapped a towel around his waist and, as a servant would do in a Jewish household, he washed his disciples’ feet telling them that they should take this as an example and serve others. He healed the sick and sent his disciples out on missionary journeys to do the same. Children did not count for much in Jesus’ society but he emphasized their importance: “See that you do not despise one of these little ones. For I tell you that their angels in heaven see the face of my father in heaven” (Mt 18:10).
We recently celebrated the feast of the Exaltation of the Cross. To fulfill the mission given him by his father God, Jesus had to die. Otherwise, he could not rise from the dead, and after appearing to many of his disciples ascend into heaven as proof of God’s intention to keep us with him even after our own deaths. Jesus had promised his disciples at the Last Supper, “Where I am, there you also will be.” Eleven of his 12 apostles died martyrs.
But why the cross? The Roman orator Cicero called it an instrument of “unsurpassable punishment.” It was reserved for those who were not citizens of Rome as a warning against rebellion anywhere in the Roman Empire. Pilate, the Roman procurator in Jerusalem, knew Jesus was innocent of that charge, yet he feared an uprising by a mob stirred up by some leaders of the Jewish high court and handed Jesus over to them to be crucified. God, however, often turns human sin into life-giving grace. Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI wrote that Jesus’ cross became “a symbol par excellence of the love that overcomes hatred and violence and generates immortal life.”
The great Russian novelist Dostoevsky called love “a harsh and dreadful thing” because of the sacrifices it sometimes demands. Down through centuries after Christ so many martyrs have imitated the sacrifice of Jesus with their own deaths that resulted from their preaching and living his message. This is particularly true in Catholic communities today in Africa. Because of their bravery, the cross has become a symbol of freedom and victory over death rather than of fear and defeat.
Jesus definitely called us all to practice his kind of love, sacrificial love: “He who does not take up his cross daily and follow me cannot be my disciple.” That does not seem like a good place to start if we are trying to win converts to Catholicism. Yet, like so often in our Catholic faith, we find Jesus’ spirituality paradoxical. When I was a campus chaplain at LSU, one of the easiest things I had to do was recruit students to come with me to the Society of St. Vincent de Paul homeless shelter for men on Plank Road in Baton Rouge. Once a week we would meet at the student center and cook a meal for about 15 to 25 men and the dozen or so of us. Then we would bring the food to the shelter and have supper with the men. It was important for the students to pray and share the meal with the homeless and learn their stories. This actually was a happy experience for them and us.
No one is happy all the time. No one escapes this life without some challenging moments. But, as with Jesus, God our merciful father has a reason for allowing us to suffer some pain during our lives. This is explained beautifully by an author named August Turak in his book “Brother John” about an unusually selfless monk he met at Mepkin Abbey, a Trappist Monastery in South Carolina. Turak was on retreat, feeling just plain empty, not happy at all. But he learned this, observing Brother John: “We’re all put here for the exact same reason: to be transformed from selfish people to selfless people. We may do that as a doctor or lawyer or parent or teacher or whatever. But we all have the same purpose. The paradox is we think we want self-indulgence but we’re actually happiest when we’re sacrificing, when we’re giving ourselves away for something worth giving ourselves away to. We’re all looking for a mission that’s bigger than ourselves.”
Thanks to Christopher News Notes for the story, and I will close with another one liner from the same pamphlet: “Every unselfish act of love whispers God’s name.” – Bob Goff
Father Carville is a retired priest in the Diocese of Baton Rouge and writes on current topics for The Catholic Commentator. He can be reached at johnny [email protected].