Day 16 - My Ways Are Not Your Ways

‘At noon darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon. And at three o'clock Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which is translated, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Some of the bystanders who heard it said, “Look, he is calling Elijah.” One of them ran, soaked a sponge with wine, put it on a reed, and gave it to him to drink, saying, “Wait, let us see if Elijah comes to take him down.” Jesus gave a loud cry and breathed his last. The veil of the sanctuary was torn in two from top to bottom. When the centurion who stood facing him saw how he breathed his last he said, “Truly this man was the Son of God!”’ Mark 15:33-39

‘“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the LORD.’ Have you ever read these words in Isaiah 55 and thought somewhat ironically, ‘no kidding!’

I know I have. Okay, I admit it. I have a bit of a smart aleck streak which 50+ years and a wide variety of experiences haven’t quite been able to knock out of me.

God is still working on me…

But seriously, the humor of “Oh, God!” and “Bruce Almighty” aside, could you imagine watching your servant Job suffer and not lift a hand in assistance? How could God remain silent during the barbarity of so much of human history?

How could we?!

How could He have sacrificed His only Son on a cross?

Especially for the likes of us who would stand by for . . .

Legalized slavery and the transportation of people under conditions not fit for cattle?

Human torture and sacrifice?

Racial and religious genocide?

Child abuse and neglect of every sort imaginable and then some?

Endless cycles of war, oppression and poverty?

Hatred and refusal to forgive leading to more violence?

The Third Reich, Stalin, Rwanda, the murder of over a 1/3 of a generation of American unborn through abortion?

No, His ways aren’t like our ways.

Thanks be to Him!

Teach me oh Lord to follow Your Way!

Waiting for God

Samuel Beckett wrote a book called Waiting for Godot. It’s one of the many modern ‘classic’s I’ve yet to read. I wonder if I ever will read it. As a general rule I don’t like modern classics because their very modernity seems to be at odds with the true definition of a classic and the former wins out over the latter. I happen to prefer classic classics—classics which have stood the test of time. And yet, since we can see, ‘waiting for God’ in the title of Beckett’s book, I am intrigued by the potential connection.*

I know I am waiting for God. I’ve been waiting for Him for a very long time—not as long as some, but longer than others: fifty-something years if you must know. When I hit fifty I went through an aging crisis, the first and only time in my life getting older ever bothered me. Looking back I see now it was because I’d lost my way. If one has both eyes on God, then being fifteen or fifty is pretty much the same. Both ages can be a moment from His presence or thirty years.

Most of us don’t like waiting. That was the theme of our pastor’s homily last night. And yet he rightly reminded us about all the benefits God can draw from our waiting experiences: the savoring of anticipation, building of character, and growth in patience, to name but a few. So much good can come from waiting on God, doing things according to His Will, in His Time. If we but wait, when the harvest comes in, how wonderful is the feast! Many of us in America just experienced that as we sat down to our groaning tables Thanksgiving Day . . . and got up an hour or so later, groaning ourselves, from having feasted on His Bounty.

That’s fine for us, but what about those who are still waiting? Still hungry?

And of course that’s just the tip of the iceberg, as we all know. There are many, many other things—issues if you will—still unresolved, which seem to be on-hold, waiting: the poor, immigrants, the unborn, the lost, minorities, the lonely, homeless, the elderly, abused children, the dying, victims of crime, our planet, etc. The list goes on. Who or what are they waiting for? Does God hear their cry? Do we?

I don’t have answers, only questions and observations. I work for a church which pours Charity, not to mention hundreds of thousands of dollars every year, into the surrounding community and yet in recent years has had to install security lights, cameras (which have been repeatedly stolen) and locks everywhere for the protection of those who give so generously.

In our parish, we have those who bring food, clothing and emergency transportation to desperate people at all hours of the day and night, and have done so for years now. These veteran helpers are true Sons of St. Francis of Assisi and their stories are fascinating. In spite of many instances of personal danger, flagrant abuse, and hostility, they remain devoted and untiring ministers to those in need.

Our St. Vincent DePaul hotline receives threatening calls when the disgruntled ‘poor’ feel the service provided isn’t sufficient or prompt enough. “I think Channel XVZ needs to hear your church is doing false advertising! You say you’re there to help us but no one called me back tonight!”

Police vehicles camp in our parish parking lot every evening we have a function. I see them with gratitude but also with more than a trace of sadness, that their presence is necessary.

God we are waiting. We are still waiting. Advent is a time of waiting. We are your children, Lord, and we still await Your Coming.

Lord, come to our assistance. Make haste to help us!



*However, if you read the linked NY Times review of the play, you will learn that Beckett doesn't expect God to ever come to save mankind. Poor man!