Friday, February 9, 2018

Water, Stones, and Clay

            The word “confidence” has been swirling around my mind the last few days.  Do we really trust God?  Do we really, consciously, rely upon him?  I think we would all say “yes.”  It was quite frequent, when I was working as a window clerk for the Postal Service, upon greeting a person who had professed belief in God, that the person would respond something to the effect, “I’m doing fine because I’m on this side of the earth and not six feet under.”  We have “confidence” because we are alive or in relative good health, but that is not actually confidence.  We think we do trust and rely upon God to keep us out of hell.  I think that is the main thing we are concerned about.  We don’t mind if we don’t live as saints here.  We do what we think is necessary to attain salvation, and God will “clean” us up in Purgatory—if the person even gives thought to this.  Mostly, if we think about it, most of our “confidence” lies in us.  It is what I think, what I believe.
            There are also those who work to “elevate” themselves, to make themselves ascend, attempting to make themselves saints or, alternatively, place confidence in the good works they are doing.  These words keep coming to mind, “…Many, I tell you, will attempt to enter but will not be strong enough.”[1]  It is absolutely necessary to do good works because, without good works, God is not working through us.  Good works is the evidence that God is doing a good work.  However, we cannot place confidence in the works that we do.  God also utilizes non-believers, and they will also do good things.  It is for this reason that St. Paul tells us, “Work out your salvation with fear and trembling, in order that we might not fall into the trap of thinking we are earning something, elevating ourselves, because of the works themselves.[2]  Archbishop John MacEvilly explains: “Because, as their salvation does not depend on themselves but principally on God’s grace, they should tremble, lest God, in punishment of their sins, would withhold his grace and leave them to their ruin.  In this verse is contained a proof of the admissibility of grace.  He says, ‘that it is God that worketh,’ because the grace of God is the principal cause in the production of good works, although human liberty also has its share, and it is usual in Scriptures to ascribe an effect to the principal cause, although subordinate causes also may concur in its production.  That human liberty is not here denied is clear from the exhortation of the Apostle in the preceding verse, for why work out their salvation with fear and trembling if in the work they had no free agency?”[3]
            Archbishop Luis Martinez, as I have alluded to a previous article, explains: “The spiritual life is indubitably a continual ascent, since perfection consists in union with God and God stands above all creation.  To arrive at God, we must ascend, but the paradox that I emphasize lies in this: that the secret of ascending is to descend.  St. Augustine, in his inimitable style, thus explains this paradox: ‘Consider, O brethren, this great marvel.  God is on high: reach up to Him, and He flees from you; lower yourself before Him, and He comes down to you’ (St. Augustine (354-430; Bishop of Hippo), Sermo 2, de Ascensione).  St. John of the Cross picturesquely teaches the same in the title page of his book The Ascent of Mount Carmel, from which I take only these lines: ‘In order to come to be all, desire in all things to be nothing’ (St. John of the Cross (1542-1591; Spanish Carmelite mystic, and reformer of the Carmelite Order), Ascent of Mount Carmel, Bk. 1, ch. 13, line 11).”[4]
            We are like a person at the beach.  The water is so beautiful, and the sound of the waters is so calming.  They beckon us to enter.  Standing on the shore, we can say that we have confidence in the water, but we do not.  We can wade out into the water to a point up to our chest, and say we have confidence in the water; however, we do not.  In order to gain confidence in the water, we must enter those waters to a point where the water comes above our mouth and nose.  If we have confidence in the water, the water will support us, keeping us aloft.  However, that which supports us will also kill us if we have no confidence in it or if we become weary.  We can say we won’t get weary, but the truth is: We will become weary, and we will die.
            God doesn’t tell us to pray always just to throw his “weight” around, having us to do something just for the sake of ordering us about.  Our very existence depends upon God.  He has us pray because we must constantly be aware that he is the cause of us being alive, that we rely upon him continuously.  It is something that we know; however, we do not live as that is what we believe.  We think, “God knows that I know that; therefore, I’m good to go.”  This is the beginning stage of becoming weary.  We know it, but we do not believe it, rely upon it, to the point where we depend upon it, crying out because we cannot stop ourselves from becoming weary and need someone to support us.  Without me you can do nothing.[5]  Sin is nothing. 
            Commenting upon John 1:3, St. Augustine teaches: “Give good heed to what follows, brethren, ‘All things were made by Him, and without Him was nothing made,’ so as not to imagine that ‘nothing’ is something.  For many, wrongly understanding ‘without Him was nothing made,’ are [inclined] to fancy that ‘nothing’ is something.  Sin, indeed, was not made by Him; and it is plain that sin is nothing, and men become nothing when they sin.”[6]  Sin is outside of God; therefore, all we can do without God is sin.  In order to do something or be something, we need God.  In order to keep this in remembrance, we need to pray.  Prayer reminds us that we are nothing without God.  Jesus prayed not only to give us an example; he prayed also because, as man, he needed to.  If he did not have a need to pray, he would not have been man; he would have only been divine.  I love how Archbishop Martinez puts it: “We think, perhaps, that transformation in Jesus is something that we can achieve with God’s help.  But no.  Simply having God’s help is not sufficient.  God alone can accomplish it, and the only help that we can give Him is to allow Him a free hand, not to impede Him.”[7]
            We are like rocks—with minds.  Rocks cannot float unless they are placed upon something that does float.  Because we are like rocks, this applies to us.  We have to make ourselves available to God, the sculptor.  I’m going to speak on this later, but I think it’s necessary to say here: Because of the pride within us, we are hardhearted, we are selfish, self-loving.  If we do not think we are, then we are not making ourselves available to God.  We are thinking that we have some ability; we just need help from God.  When we do not make ourselves available, we are taking away our life support.  We can make ourselves available one day, and not the next day, allowing the hardness to “calcify.”  Most often, pride hinders our realization that we are hardened or becoming hardened.  Hence, it is necessary that we pray.  When we stop praying, it is because we are becoming weary and beginning to harden, not availing ourselves to God.
            We avail ourselves to God for the purpose that he may use his hammer and chisel to form us.  This entails suffering.  We must avail ourselves to suffering at all times, without complaint.  We must become willing sufferers, having confidence that God is molding us, shaping us.  Hear the words that we read God spoke to St. Catherine of Siena: "A different reward is received by the soul who perceives only My will, which, as has been said, wishes nothing else but your good; so that everything which I give or permit to happen to you (emphasis added), I give so that you may arrive at the end for which I created you.”[8]  He goes on to tell her: “Wherefore, in order to arrive at purity, you must entreat Me to do three things: to grant you to be united to Me by the affection of love, retaining in your memory the benefits you have received from Me; and with the eye of your intellect to see the affection of My love, with which I love you inestimably; and in the will of others to discern My will only, and not their evil will, for I am their Judge, not you, and, in doing this, you will arrive at all perfection.”[9] 
            Desolation is part of this suffering that we must endure when we avail ourselves to God.  Remarking upon desolations, Archbishop Martinez teaches us: “Another advantage of spiritual dryness is that it produces a deep and true humility in us.  When we hear a sermon on humility, or read a spiritual treatise, or meditate seriously, we come to the conclusion that we are very miserable beings.  But this conviction is no more than theoretical. When we are told that there are torrid regions in Africa, and that the temperature is oppressive, and that traveling is difficult and painful in those desert areas, we form some idea of those torrid climates.  But what a difference there is in hearing about all this and in going there and suffering from the heat and feeling all its effects in our body!  The same thing occurs with humility.  To be given theoretical knowledge of our misery is quite different from feeling it, coming in contact with it, and knowing it by experience.  And in desolations, we feel our helplessness and misery in such a way that when we have thus perceived it, we never forget it…  [D]esolation shows us truly that we are incapable of having a good thought or a pious affection…  Furthermore, with desolation come struggles and temptations; and the worst feelings well up in our heart.  At such a time, the soul thinks, ‘My life has been a deception. I thought I had achieved some virtue; I thought I knew how to pray.  But I have accomplished nothing.  All is a deception.  For me, all is lost.’  Is not this to realize our miserable condition?  What a difference between describing it and feeling it!  In this way, desolations exercise us in the life of faith; they detach us from the spiritual gifts of God, and they produce in us a deep understanding of ourselves, a great fund of humility.  Are not these great advantages enough for us to come to an appreciation of desolation?  How could we ever obtain them by means of consolations in that pleasant and easy life we dreamed of?  So, let us be reconciled to trials, for they are a most important factor in the spiritual life: they have their beauty, they are fruitful, and they possess incomparable advantages.”[10]
            As I alluded to earlier: It is a very difficult thing for us to avail ourselves to God because of the pride within us.  Pride fights back, demanding to be respected, demanding to be somebody, demanding to defend ourselves.  We were formed from dirt.  We cannot keep ourselves alive.  Dirt is dirt.  Dirt cannot make itself fertile.  It must depend upon an outside force.  Therefore, whenever someone’s evil will cause us suffering, we must see it as God desiring it to be done to us, as part of his hammer and chisel, in order to shape us into the likeness of his Son, in order to make us “fertile,” just as he did King David.  Consider the words of the king when he was fleeing his son, Absalom, and Shimei was cursing him and throwing rocks at him: “Let him alone, and let him curse; for the Lord has bidden him.  It may be that the Lord will look upon my affliction, and that the Lord will repay me with good for this cursing of me today.”[11]  Keep, also, the words of Joseph close to our hearts, the words he spoke to his brothers: “As for you, you meant evil against me; but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive, as they are today.”[12]  Also, we have the example of our Lord: He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth.  By oppression and judgment, he was taken away; and, as for his generation, who considered that he was cut off out of the land of the living, stricken for the transgression of my people?  And they made his grave with the wicked and with a rich man in his death, although he had done no violence, and there was no deceit in his mouth. Yet it was the will of the Lord to bruise him; he has put him to grief... [13]  In the Acts of the Apostles, we have Philip also quoting these words: In his humiliation, justice was denied him.[14]  Although justice was denied our Lord on this earth, nevertheless, justice was not denied him by the Father and he was rewarded, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive.  The misadventures which occur to us is not for our benefit only, but also for the benefit of others.  Hear the words of the author to the Hebrews: In the days when he was in the flesh, he offered prayers and supplications with loud cries and tears to the one who was able to save him from death, and he was heard because of his reverence. Son though he was, he learned obedience from what he suffered; and when he was made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him…[15]  Holy Scripture tells us that Jesus’ prayers were answered—his prayers were answered although he still underwent his Passion and Crucifixion.  He learned obedience from what he suffered and … was made perfect.
            Not only are we like rocks with minds, we are also like clay with minds.  This is because we were formed from the dirt of the ground and God breathed life in us.  With our minds, we are to understand how utterly dependent we are upon God and see all the gifts he has given to us—who are dirt.  As I mentioned previously, dirt can do nothing of its own; it is entirely dependent upon an outside force.  For us, that outside force is God, our Creator and Redeemer.  We are to see this and be thankful.  To not be thankful is to believe that, one, it was owed to us or, two, we accomplished it ourselves.  “Woe to him who strives with his Maker, an earthen vessel with the potter!  Does the clay say to him who fashions it, ‘What are you making?’”[16]
            Then the word of the Lord came to me (Jeremiah): “O house of Israel, can I not do with you as this potter has done? says the Lord.  Behold, like the clay in the potter’s hand so are you in my hand, O house of Israel.  If at any time I declare concerning a nation or a kingdom that I will pluck up and break down and destroy it and if that nation concerning which I have spoken turns from its evil, I will repent of the evil that I intended to do to it.  And, if at any time I declare concerning a nation or a kingdom that I will build and plant it and if it does evil in my sight, not listening to my voice, then I will repent of the good which I had intended to do to it.”[17]  These words are to keep us from being presumptuous.  This tells us that we can lose our salvation.  This tells us fatal—double—predestination is error.
            Let us first realize the fact that pride is in us, and may that realization cause fear in us.  It is that pride that will cause us to become weary or to lose confidence in God.  We cannot be prideful and humble.  Pride will allow us to think that we are humble in order to exalt itself.  Humility is no pride.  One is either prideful at all times or is humble at all times.  We cannot make ourselves humble because humility is something and we can only do nothing without God.  Dirt cannot eliminate the stones in it; an outside force must eliminate the stones.  Because we are prideful, we cannot eliminate pride by our own strength; we must look to an outside force to eliminate pride in us: God.  However, we must pray that he does it, ask that he does it.  We cannot eliminate the pride within us; we can only sin of our own strength.
            With misspent toil, [man] forms a futile god from the same clay—this man who was made of earth a short time before and after a little while goes to the earth from which he was taken, when he is required to return the soul that was lent him.  But he is not concerned that he is destined to die or that his life is brief, but he competes with workers in gold and silver, and imitates workers in copper; and he counts it his glory that he molds counterfeit gods.  His heart is ashes, his hope is cheaper than dirt, and his life is of less worth than clay, because he failed to know the one who formed him and inspired him with an active soul and breathed into him a living spirit.  But he considered our existence an idle game, and life a festival held for profit, for he says one must get money however one can, even by base means.[18]  The futile god that man makes is himself or a “god”.  Because of the Fall, man desires to dictate what is right and what is wrong.  He thinks he is a self-made man, that he is in control.  This is why he demands respect for himself.  This is why he looks down upon others.  This is why he believes he is wise. 
            The word that came to Jeremiah from the Lord: “Arise, and go down to the potter’s house, and there I will let you hear my words.”  So, I went down to the potter’s house, and there he was working at his wheel.  And the vessel he was making of clay was spoiled in the potter’s hand, and he reworked it into another vessel, as it seemed good to the potter to do.  Then the word of the Lord came to me: “O house of Israel, can I not do with you as this potter has done? says the Lord.  Behold, like the clay in the potter’s hand, so are you in my hand, O house of Israel.  If at any time I declare concerning a nation or a kingdom that I will pluck up and break down and destroy it and if that nation concerning which I have spoken turns from its evil, I will repent of the evil that I intended to do to it.  And, if at any time I declare concerning a nation or a kingdom that I will build and plant it and if it does evil in my sight, not listening to my voice, then I will repent of the good which I had intended to do to it.  Now, therefore, say to the men of Judah and the inhabitants of Jerusalem: ‘Thus says the Lord, Behold, I am shaping evil against you and devising a plan against you.  Return, everyone from his evil way, and amend your ways and your doings.’  “But they say, ‘That is in vain! We will follow our own plans, and will every one act according to the stubbornness of his evil heart’.”[19]
            God creates us for specific purposes.  Nonetheless, as the passage above tells us, we are able to change what is destined for us.  He raised up Israel for good; however, when Israel turned away, God sent them into exile.  God raised up Assyria to punish Israel.  Nevertheless, when Neneveh repented, they were spared.  Later, when they returned to their evil ways, they were destroyed.  It is God’s will that all men should be saved (1 Ti 2:4); however, we can change our destiny.  We must want what God wants; we must desire to be like him.  We cannot desire God of our own strength.  He must make us to desire him, either directly or indirectly—through others.
            You will say to me then, “Why does he still find fault? For who can resist his will?” But who are you, a man, to answer back to God?  Will what is molded say to its molder, “Why have you made me thus?” Has the potter no right over the clay, to make out of the same lump one vessel for beauty and another for menial use?[20]  For when a potter kneads the soft earth and laboriously molds each vessel for our service, he fashions out of the same clay both the vessels that serve clean uses and those for contrary uses, making all in like manner; but which shall be the use of each of these the worker in clay decides.[21]
            Love and suffering go hand-in-hand.  I recall the times my wife and I had to be separated because of my overseas tours.  How I longed for her.  This is a type of suffering.  This is a type of suffering we should have for God.  It could be asked, “Why would we long for God when he is within us?”  Because of the sin within us, we cannot see him “face-to-face.”  That closeness is with us; therefore, we long for this to be the case.  This is not something that we can conjure up within ourselves.  We have this “suffering” when we detest those things in us that are contrary to God.  We must be asking God to allow this “suffering” in us in order that we may desire to be, and become, more and more into his likeness. 
            Confidence, like faith, will grow at times and, seemingly, diminish at times.  This must be the case.  It keeps us crying out to God.  There needs to be consolations and desolations.  If this was not so, there would be no desolations, no sufferings.  It is the desolations and sufferings that will perfect our love of God.  It is these which will strengthen our trust.  I say “seemingly” because, in actuality, God is causing our confidence to increase.  Archbishop Luis Martinez writes: “No matter how close or perfect or intimate may be [the] union of God with the soul, it is not yet the consummated union of eternity; and everything that is lacking in this union on earth and that prevents it from attaining the perfection that the union in Heaven possesses necessarily becomes sorrow that is mysteriously mixed with joy.  This sorrow is something sweet and bitter at the same time, nevertheless a sorrow of a special kind that surpasses in intensity all other sorrows.  It is the more intense by how much more it is pure, by how much more it is spiritual, and by how much more it is profound.  Love is insatiable.  It is satisfied only with the infinite, satisfied only when it is possessed in that most perfect manner that is proper to Heaven.  Everything else serves but to excite desire and to convert it into a martyrdom.  In the degree that anyone possesses God, he desires Him more; and the more intimate the union, the more terrible is the martyrdom of desire.”[22] 
            However, on the negative side: as in the case of faith, confidence can erode.  If we are not looking at desolations and sufferings with the eyes of faith, both faith and confidence will diminish, and can diminish to the point of loss of salvation.  The archbishop goes on to say: “Beloved, the fact that Jesus accomplished the supreme manifestation of love on the blessed Cross should be sufficient for the souls who love Him to make them perceive the imperious necessity of suffering for Him, of giving themselves over to sorrow, of being overwhelmed with grief, and of being ground like wheat and pressed like grapes in the winepress in order to be converted into the food and drink of love, into a living Eucharist for the best Beloved. … It is the nature of love to transform those who love, to the point of uniting them one to another in a certain manner.  The words ‘to have but one heart and one soul’ are not mere hyperbole; they express a mystery of unity that all love achieves, since it causes those who love one another to have the same thoughts and the same affections, so that their joys and their sorrows are shared in common. … The divine fruit of union is, therefore, transformation, the effecting of unity.  Jesus lives in us, and we in Him.  All that belongs to Him is ours, and all that belongs to us is His; His joys are our joys, and His sorrows are our sorrows.  Our acts become divine, and Jesus renews in us the mysteries of His life.  Among all the things that Jesus communicates to us and shares with us when we are transformed in Him, the foremost are His sorrows, His Sacrifice; for His sorrows are most dear to Him, and Sacrifice was the supreme act of His life.  Avid of suffering, since His sufferings give glory to the Father and since they are the fountain of life for souls, Jesus did not remain content with the sufferings of His mortal life, but He wishes to continue them until the end of time in the Eucharist and in souls.   To the blessed souls who become one through love and are transformed in Him, He shares His divine sufferings, His intimate sorrows, in order that He may continue suffering in them, as His insatiable desires demand, and in order that those souls might have divine sufferings whereby they may in due measure be glorifiers of the Father and redeemers of souls.  And here we touch upon the supreme secret of sorrow, a glimpse of which demands that we forsake the earth and plunge our spirit into the bosom of God.”[23]
            When we endure desolations and sufferings with an eye of faith, we will have confidence and will not become weary.  It is then that the “waters,” the Holy Spirit will do all the work and keep us afloat.  It is just as in the beautiful poem “Footprints in the Sand.”  The man was suffering; and, during the suffering, he only saw one set of footprints in the sand.  The Lord said, “It was during those times that I carried you.”  Although the Lord carried him, he still suffered because suffering is necessary.  It was not that the helped him; he was carrying him, yet allowed him to feel the suffering.
            I will conclude with the words of St. Paul: That I might not become too elated, a thorn in the flesh was given to me, an angel of Satan, to beat me, to keep me from being too elated.  Three times I begged the Lord about this, that it might leave me, but he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.”  I will rather boast most gladly of my weaknesses, in order that the power of Christ may dwell with me. Therefore, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and constraints, for the sake of Christ; for when I am weak, then I am strong.[24]








[1] New American Bible, Revised Edition., (Washington, DC: The United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, 2011), Lk 13:24.
[2] New American Bible, Revised Edition., (Washington, DC: The United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, 2011), Php 2:12.
[3] John MacEvilly, An Exposition of the Epistles of St. Paul and of the Catholic Epistles, (Dublin; New York: M. H. Gill & Son; Benziger Brothers, 1898), 2:13–14
[4] Martinez, Archbishop Luis M.; Worshipping a Hidden God (pp. 3-4). Sophia Institute Press. Kindle Edition.
[5] New American Bible, Revised Edition., (Washington, DC: The United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, 2011), Jn 15:5.
[6] Augustine of Hippo, St. Augustin: Homilies on the Gospel of John, Homilies on the First Epistle of John, Soliloquies, 1888, 7, 11.
[7] Martinez, Archbishop Luis M.; Worshipping a Hidden God (p. 166). Sophia Institute Press. Kindle Edition.
[8] Catherine of Siena, Saint. The Dialogue of Saint Catherine of Siena (Kindle Locations 2495-2497). Kindle Edition.
[9] Ibid., (Kindle Locations 2498-2501).
[10] Martinez, Archbishop Luis M.. Worshipping a Hidden God (pp. 157-159). Sophia Institute Press. Kindle Edition
[11] Catholic Biblical Association (Great Britain), The Holy Bible: Revised Standard Version, Catholic Edition, (New York: National Council of Churches of Christ in the USA, 1994), 2 Sa 16:11–12.
[12] Ibid., Ge 50:20.
[13] Ibid., Is 53:7–10.
[14] Ibid., Ac 8:33.
[15] New American Bible, Revised Edition., (Washington, DC: The United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, 2011), Heb 5:7–9.
[16] Catholic Biblical Association (Great Britain), The Holy Bible: Revised Standard Version, Catholic Edition, (New York: National Council of Churches of Christ in the USA, 1994, Is 45:9.
[17] Ibid., Je 18:5–10.
[18] Ibid., Wis 15:8–12.
[19] Ibid., Je 18:1–12.
[20] Ibid., Ro 9:19–21.
[21] Ibid., Wis 15:7.
[22] Martinez, Archbishop Luis M., Worshipping a Hidden God (p. 76). Sophia Institute Press. Kindle Edition.
[23] Ibid., pp. 78-81
[24] New American Bible, Revised Edition., (Washington, DC: The United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, 2011), 2 Co 12:7–10.

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