IC, I:20; 25th
Sunday of Year A
“Seek the Lord while he
may be found; call Him while He is near.”
This bit of advice from the
Old Testament conceals a truth that is not so very pleasant to the ear–namely,
that there is a season when one may not find the Lord, that there will
come a time when He may be distant. It is not, of course, that at times the
omnipresent God actually abstracts Himself from His creatures: were He to that,
they would cease to exist altogether. It is rather that sometimes God withdraws
Himself from us by a feeling of abandonment and helplessness; by a want of
consolation, or an apparent deafness to our express needs. This unwelcome
experience can range from a feeling of disappointment to deep anguish. No
matter what the reason may be for allowing this on God’s part, He surely
permits it only for some good cause. He may–as an example–use it to teach a
lesson of becoming utterly dependant upon Him; or, He may send it as a
punishment for our sins; and sometimes He may use it to create a feeling of
spiritual darkness that will, in the end, form a necessary passageway to a
higher place in the spiritual life.
The problem of where and how
to find God in the modern world has often been made more difficult for us. The
reason for that is manifold. For one thing, we are more and more living at a
distance from nature. When this happens, we no longer can look at the moon, the
stars, and the trees and being to wonder about them and to connect them to
their Creator. Instead we find about ourselves concrete, steel and artifacts
produced by man. And so, thoughts to God are often short-circuited by our
surroundings and we seldom, if ever, raise them naturally to our Creator.
Another reason for the difficulty in finding God for us is the intentional and
concerted effort underway to eliminate the mere mention of God in public life;
such is the hue and cry over the proposed elimination of His Name in an amended
form of the Pledge of Allegiance.
But one more thing that makes
us increasingly insensitive to the presence of God is the absence or the rare
occurrence of silence in our lives. We have become well accustomed to a steady
stream of sound stimulating our hearing–sound from radio, TV and telephone; the
noise of cars, the buzzing of machines, the hum of the electronic devises that
appear at every turn in our homes. What can it mean for the spiritual life if
one has no opportunity for recollection of his thoughts about his Maker, the
state of his soul, or of his final destiny? “Seek the Lord while he may be
found; call Him while He is near.” This is becoming more and more difficult.
Some have become so used to the everlasting stream of sound that they have even
developed a fear and dread of the quiet. More and more are now taking
tranquilizing drugs to help them adjust to the world of ever-agitating sensory
stimulation. The result is that we are often stressed even by ordinary labors
that we may once have been borne rather well. And so, we feel the need to get
away and to escape from it all. But
then, are terrified at the prospect of that! This is certainly not a happy,
healthy state for the humanity psyche.
The Imitation of Christ
directs us to make time for recollection and for prayer, especially that kind
of prayer that moves the heart to devotion. Here is a quote:
“If
you avoid unnecessary talk and aimless visits [to others], listening to news
and gossip, you will find plenty of suitable time to spend in meditation on
holy things. The greatest Saints used to avoid the company of men whenever they
were able, and chose rather to serve God in solitude.”
Thomas a Kempis
in this connection even quotes a secular writer of antiquity, Seneca: “As often
as I have been among men, I have returned home a lesser man.” If we are
resolved to be religious people, we need to reserve for ourselves a time when
we can withdraw from the company of others and the busyness of ordinary
affairs. Our consciences would be so much purer if we could keep distant–at
least for some minutes every day–from worldly affairs, from the noises of life,
and from the press of daily life. Entering into the monastery of one’s own
soul, almost everyone can find some moments there–even in early morning or late
at night–to commune with God in silence. Jesus said to shut the door and pray
to God in secret. The psalmist says to “commune with your own hearts on your
beds, and be silent” (Ps 4:4). When you think that even those who are in
monasteries because they have desired to escape the contamination of the world
and to find God–that even they have their individual cells so as to have
an even greater solitude for God, then ?is it not all
the more imperative that we who are Christians living in an ever more hostile
environment to the Christian way of life should find it obligatory to pull away
at times and retreat from all the godlessness?
Of course, it’s not a simple
thing to be still, especially at will. It requires disciple and practice. But
we must admit also that neither is it all fun to indulge the senses. There is
so much emptiness, dissipation, weariness–not to mention sadness and guilt–over
plunging in vain things like useless shopping, idle conversations, constant TV
viewing, and, of course, out-and-out sin doing. And
so, again the Imitation:
“If
it pleases you to hear the news of the world, you must always suffer disquiet
of heart as a result. Leave empty matters to the empty-headed, and give your
attention to those things that God commands you. Lift up your eyes to God on
high and beg forgiveness for your sins and neglectfulness.”
Just to get a grasp on how
alien we have become to a religious mind, give a second thought to these select
sentences from our readings today. “My thoughts are not your thoughts [says the
Lord]. As high as the heavens are above earth, so high are my ways above your
ways and my thoughts above your thoughts.” And