“God will forgive you if you forgive others. Forgiving those who cause offense or injury is often exceedingly difficult. And yet, forgiveness is one of the most beautiful and important teachings of Jesus Christ. It is central to the gospel because, without it, you can’t go to heaven.”— Patrick Madrid, p.21
Clare recalled these new beginnings in later years. That she and her sisters had survived the painful trials of the foundation was not nearly as surprising to her as it was to Francis. “When the blessed Francis saw, however, that although we were physically weak and frail, we did not shirk deprivation, poverty, hard work, trial or the shame or contempt of the world—rather we considered them as great delights, as he had frequently examined us according to the example of the saints and his brothers—he greatly rejoiced in the Lord” (Testament, 27-29). Taking each word of this recollection on its merits, we must imagine that the early years of life in San Damiano were a continual struggle at levels material, social, and spiritual.
“I worry some of you still have not really met Jesus—one to one—you and Jesus alone. We may spend time in the chapel—but have you seen with the eyes of your soul how He looks at you with love? Do you really know the living Jesus—not from books but from being with Him in your heart? Have you heard the loving words He speaks to you? Ask for the grace; He is longing to give it. Until you can hear Jesus in the silence of your own heart, you will not be able to hear Him saying ‘I Thirst’ in the hearts of the poor. Never give up this daily intimate contact with Jesus as the real living person—not just the idea.” — Saint Mother Teresa, p.129-30
Clare offers two extraordinarily important lessons. The first is obvious. It is the recognition of how important women—and this woman in particular—are to the Franciscan story. The second is more subtle. It is the lesson that Clare’s importance stems from the fact that she was the recipient of a powerful charism of her own—a gift bestowed by the Spirit of the Lord and given to her in a fullness and forcefulness that was hers alone. That charism, matched with the equally full and forceful charism of Francis, created something akin to nuclear fission. It unleashed a mighty power of example and of hope for people who wanted to live the authentic Christian message. Too often we suppose that our study and imitation of these great saints is a sure path to our own beatitude. Her story shows us that what matters is not the effort to “draw down” from the spiritual wealth of others whom we admire as though only a supplicant’s sharing of another’s gift can make us good. What she shows us is that we need only have the courage to unlock what is within us, to spend our days powered by the graced anointing that we already possess.
“For it was while Eve was yet a virgin that the ensnaring word had crept into her ear which was to build the edifice of death. Into a virgin’s soul, in like manner, must be introduced that Word of God which was to raise the fabric of life; so that what had been reduced to ruin by this sex might by the selfsame sex be recovered to salvation. As Eve believed the serpent, so Mary believed the angel. The delinquency which the one occasioned by believing, the other effaced by believing.”— Tertullian, p.44
“So many people ask to be listened to and to be understood. The Gospel of mercy requires generous and joyful servants, people who love freely without expecting anything in return. ‘Peace be with you!’ (John 20:21) is the greeting of Jesus to his disciples; this same peace awaits men and women of our own day.… It is a peace that does not divide but unites; it is a peace that does not abandon us but makes us feel listened to and loved; it is a peace that persists even in pain and enables hope to blossom. This peace, as on the day of Easter, is born ever anew by the forgiveness of God which calms our anxious hearts.” —Pope Francis
The story of Thomas in the Upper Room is a clear example of Jesus meeting us in those wounded places in our lives and wordlessly offering us whatever we need to move beyond the hurt into a place of healing, trust, and peace. He doesn’t scold Thomas for needing proof; he doesn’t condemn him for a lack of faith. He holds out his hands and gives Thomas what he needs. We each have our own struggles with faith, with trust, with love, whether in our relationships with others, our connection to a church community, our responsibilities at home, at work, in school. As we place our needs before God’s loving mercy, we open ourselves to receive whatever gesture of peace he offers us. Mercy is the sign of God’s ongoing presence in the world. Few people have made this more clear and compelling than Pope Francis. And it’s not just about realizing that God is merciful to us. It’s realizing that we are now called, compelled, even commanded to be merciful to all those people we meet.
In his preaching on mercy, Pope Francis often emphasizes the importance of listening compassionately to people who are wounded, struggling, searching for God’s love. So often we want to rush in to fix other people’s lives. The next time you feel this urge, take a step back and first simply listen to and love the person before you. God’s peace passes all our human understanding. And often it lies beyond our limited human words.
“We must beg God constantly in our prayers to uphold us by His hand; we should keep ever in our minds the truth that if He leaves us, most certainly we shall fall at once into the abyss, for we must never be so foolish as to trust in ourselves. After this I think the greatest safeguard is to be very careful and to watch how we advance in virtue; we must notice whether we are making progress or falling back in it, especially as regards the love of our neighbor, the desire to be thought the least of all and how we perform our ordinary, everyday duties. If we attend to this and beg Our Lord to enlighten us, we shall at once perceive our gain or loss.”— St. Teresa of Avila, p.98-9
Since Christ is resurrected, we can look with new eyes and a new heart at every event of our lives, even the most negative ones. Moments of darkness, of failure and even sin can be transformed and announce the beginning of a new path. When we have reached the lowest point of our misery and our weakness, the Risen Christ gives us the strength to rise again. If we entrust ourselves to him, his grace saves us! The Lord, Crucified and Risen, is the full revelation of mercy, present and working throughout history.”—Pope Francis
The tricky thing about Easter is that while our faith and often our minds tell us that now life is all alleluias and rainbows, the reality is that sometimes we’re still caught in some dark places. We might not be quite feeling the joy of resurrection. In today’s Gospel, Peter, James, John and the other disciples are going back to their fishing boats. We get the sense that they’ve given up on this life of proclaiming the Good News. They’re discouraged, they’re confused. They’ve seen the Risen Christ in the upper room but then he vanished again. It turns out the fishing isn’t all that great either. But they listened to the stranger on the beach telling them to try the other side of the boat. And Peter remembered the very beginning of his time with Jesus, when the novice told the experienced fisherman how to catch fish. He recognized the voice, the call, the inspiration. And, once again, his life was about to change. Pope Francis reminds us that at the heart of it all—our joys, our sorrows, our trials, our challenges, our heartaches—God’s presence is as simple and profound as a fire, a simple meal, a new way of seeing reality. The death and resurrection of Jesus reminds us that God knows it’s never easy. The Risen Christ bore the wounds of the cross as a sign of that. Remember that he’s with us every step of the way, loving us, nudging us forward, showing us a new way to see.
“We may have become careless in being faithful to our spiritual commitments such as attendance at daily Mass, our daily time of prayer, spiritual reading, and so on. Or we may have become careless in valuing the gifts God gives us, or in rejecting or dallying with temptation. Or we may have begun to allow distractions, entertainments, and engagement in worldly activities to deaden our hunger for God . . . Dryness experienced as a result of negligence, lukewarmness, and infidelity—and whatever stage of the downward spiral it may have led to—have only one solution: repentance. This dryness is self-induced; the solution to it is to return to fidelity in our spiritual practices.”— Ralph Martin, p.166
“We need to overcome the fear of joy; we need to think of the many times that we are not joyful because we are afraid. In my homeland there is a saying that goes like this: when someone gets burned by boiling milk, he cries when he sees the cow. The disciples, who were burned by the drama of the cross, said: no, let’s stop here! He is in heaven, that’s excellent, he is risen, but may he not come back again because we can’t handle it!” —Pope Francis
On the surface, we might be tempted to scoff at the pope’s claim that we’re afraid of joy. But how often have we become so used to crisis and dread in our lives that we can’t relax and enjoy a moment of peace, a time of no stress? How often do we manufacture a crisis just because we know how to solve a problem or fix something that’s broken? Easter joy takes some getting used to. We love the rigors and the austerities of Lent. We’re not as familiar or comfortable with the joy of Easter. One reason for this is that the kind of joy Jesus brings comes from living fully in the present. We are so much better at looking back to past pain or dreading the uncertainty of the future. Living in the present, the eternal now, requires both gratitude and grace.