Fr. Frank Majka, SJ – The Bridge

Love First

I grew up thinking I had to repent of my sins and wrongdoings in order for God to love and forgive me. To me it was logical to think that repentance came first and forgiveness after that. First A, then B.

But I’ve come to think that it’s truer to think it’s just the opposite — that the forgiveness comes first, and that is what makes repentance and a new start possible.

The story of Jesus and Zacchaeus in Luke’s gospel certainly points that way. Everyone in Jericho knew that Zacchaeus was a sinner who had gotten rich collecting taxes from his own people on behalf of the despised Romans. So, when Jesus declared that he would go to Zacchaeus’ house to eat with him and stay with him, everyone was shocked and scandalized. Zacchaeus had certainly done nothing to deserve such an honor. Furthermore, he hadn’t repented or said he would make up for all the bad things he had done. But Jesus was going to his house. Why?

Jesus must have realized that only if he expressed love and friendship for Zacchaeus first, while he was still a sinner, would he have the courage to amend his life, repair the damage he had done, and become a better person. First B, then A. First comes the love, then the repentance. Just the opposite of what I’d learned so many years ago.

Now I think we are more likely to change for the better if we realize that God loves us even before we change. For if we believe that God loves and forgives us before we “deserve” it, then the purpose of life must not be to earn God’s love but to embrace the fact that we already have it and, thus, can be good not out of fear but gratitude.

We might even surprise ourselves and others at how much good there is in us, just as Zacchaeus must have been surprised at the love and generosity that came pouring out of him — all locked up until Jesus called it forth through his love for this tax collector who hadn’t first said he was sorry.

Pharisee and Publican

In Luke’s gospel Jesus tells the story of the Pharisee and the publican (i.e, tax collector, sinner) who went up to the Temple to pray. The text tells us that the Pharisee went off and prayed “by himself.” But scholars say that the phrase could be just as well translated to say that the Pharisee went off and prayed “to himself.” That would certainly fit since the Pharisee’s prayer was centered on himself and his good deeds, his words giving the impression that he considered himself and God as almost on an equal footing. Apparently he thought he didn’t have to pray for forgiveness or mercy.

The publican, on the other hand, knew these things were exactly what he needed, so he kept asking God for them. His prayer was simple, direct, and addressed to a forgiving, merciful God. And Jesus said that he went home with his prayer answered, while the Pharisee went home no closer to God than when he had entered the Temple.

What is our disposition when we come to God? Do we come full of satisfaction at our accomplishments? Does our prayer sound like a testimonial speech delivered by us in praise of ourselves? Or do we come to our God in prayer aware that we, like the publican, have not acted as we should and that only God’s mercy can get us out of the holes we have dug for ourselves and others?

Maybe the Pharisee enjoyed his prayer of self-congratulation, but the prayer of the publican had more truth in it. And, as Jesus said, truth will make us free. It is the key that opens us up to receive God’s mercy and to live as forgiven, and forgiving, people.

Penguins Out for Halloween

Increase our Faith

The disciples’ request to Jesus was simple: Increase our faith. Presumably, Jesus could have answered them “Yes” or “No” and that would have been that. Instead, Jesus said that even a little faith can do a lot, which seemingly didn’t speak to what they were asking. But maybe he wanted them to think more about their request.

Haven’t we been in the position of the disciples? Surely most of us have prayed for more faith and probably still do. But Jesus might ask us, “Why do you want more faith? What will that do for you?” These are fair questions, and I wonder if, on some level, we think that having more faith means having an easier faith, one which we won’t have to examine or question.

Though we might be reluctant to examine or question our faith, most of us have to do it; and most spiritual writers agree that questioning our beliefs is normally a sign of spiritual health, even if it may provoke some anxiety in us. After all, we can’t expect that the faith we had as children or teenagers will be adequate as we face the increasingly more difficult and complicated challenges of adulthood. Though examining our faith can be unsettling, as we grow and mature in every other aspect of our lives, shouldn’t we grow and mature in our faith, too?

So by all means let’s ask Jesus to increase our faith. Only let’s not do it out of a fear of taking a critical look at our beliefs, but as a way to help them develop into a more mature adult faith.

Fathers and Sons, Brothers and Sisters

In the parable of the prodigal son (often referred to as the parable of the forgiving father) Jesus teaches us that God takes back sinners, and that includes us, no matter what they have done or how far they have strayed.

But in the parable, the older brother, who had been faithful to his father, wasn’t forgiving or welcoming at all. On the contrary, not only was he angry at his brother for leaving his father and him, he told his father it was wrong to be so forgiving towards the younger brother, whom he called ‘this son of yours.’ But the father explained that mercy had to be shown to ‘this brother of yours’ because he had been lost, was dead and had come back to life.

Trying to get the older brother to see beyond his brother’s walking out on the family, the father tried to get him to accept that, despite the younger son’s disloyalty, he would always be a son to his father — and a brother to the older son — and had to be forgiven, welcomed and have his homecoming celebrated.

If we believe that God created one human race, one human family, then even if some people think or act in ways that indicate that they want nothing to do with being part of that family, they don’t stop being our brothers or sisters, and we can’t hate them or cut them out of our hearts, concerns or prayers. We have to try, hard as it may be, to follow the example of the father (who stands for God), keeping a door open for those who have left and being willing to welcome them if and when, through God’s grace, they decide to come back.