Summer Essays 2024

We were all of us born of a mother. Most of us were loved, though of course there are exceptions by mothers who did not have much experience of love themselves. There is no one on earth who has not been loved wholly and unchangingly by God. Absolutely no exceptions, from birth to death: we are loved, whether we feel it, accept it, or understand how this could be. We did not choose to be born, yet we exist because Love chooses us to be, even if we deny that there is any source for our life other than the fact that we were born of our mothers. Here we are, and our lives are the fuller or the opposite depending upon our reception of, and response to, love, not only that of God, but of our mothers in general and of Mary the mother of Jesus in particular.

When it comes to mother’s love and Mother Mary’s love, the more we reflect on our experiences, the more we are likely to trust in the love that was and still is provided for us and presently supports us. Rather than look within and expect to find warm feelings as the signs of love, we will find real love in the very many choices that were and are made on our behalf. We can think of how our mothers put up with all the inconveniences and hardships of pregnancy and our infancy, realizing that such behavior was real love, though not always accompanied by pleasant feelings. And we can believe that Mary, witnessing all that was done to her son and that she suffered in compassion, accepted it with her son as love for us. We have been loved, and it reverberates into the present as we reflect on some of our experiences.

No matter what judgments we might make about how much or little we experienced love from infancy to the present, we believe either consciously or without thinking about it, that we have been loved. The more we accept this, the more natural it is to care about others. The converse is also true, as can be observed in those who, unaware of being valued for who they are, treat others as having no inherent worth. No matter how much we are loved, those who do not effectively accept it are often deeply hurting and angry people who project their pain and wrath onto others.

Accompanied with simple honesty, we will find in reflecting about many ordinary contemporary interactions, that they were or are expressions of care and concern, and some of them manifestations of sincere love. Not only are we loved, but we love, and in similar common yet grace-filled ways.

The manner of calling people by their names differs widely according to societal and cultural norms that are passed on through generations, sometimes without any written rules or descriptions of proper usages. For example, most people have names for their parents, ranging from “mother and father” through a variety of informal designations like “mom and dad,” to using the proper given names that are also their legal names. Although the choice of names used might represent the degree of closeness of child to parent, the name is not nearly as important as the physical, spiritual, and emotional content of the relationship that is being expressed through the words at that time.

We can likely recall using an informal name for a friend when we were asking for a favor which we expected to be readily given, and using a name when informing the same friend of an important decision we made that might or might not be welcomed. Even if the same name is used in both situations, the way of saying them is recognizably different according to the feelings that accompany whatever is said. We are so used to this manner of relating that we probably do not think about it.

So, too, we might seldom reflect on the way we use or do not use names for God. For some of us, using names when relating with God is at times more self-conscious than spontaneous. We do not see or have physical contact with God in our interactions as we do with one another, although we often come to prayer just as we do with everyone else, carrying our present concerns, attitudes, and feelings as well as our faith and love.

We may at times avoid using a name for God because we sense no need of it, or perhaps because we are uncomfortable with deciding upon a name lest it be somehow inappropriate. Rather than ignoring our slight confusion about names, we can ask, just as we might do when wondering what name to use in addressing a new friend. The “right” name for God at any time will be the one that seems to us an honest expression of our relationship as we perceive it. We might say “God, but it could be “Love, or any of the names we have read or heard about or simply created, that seem good to us at that moment. We can be sure that whatever name we choose, or no name, is acceptable to God, because we are making an act of trust that transcends words, and that is what really matters. This is not that different from how we relate with anyone else whose care for us is beyond doubt.

The real meaning of the names we use for one another and for God come from the inclinations of our hearts.

The contexts in which we could imagine using “heartfelt” are most likely all positive, for we do not normally hear of heartfelt mistrust, anger, or dislike. However, we might not think that feelings such as grief and compassion, could be heartfelt, for they involve suffering. Some reflection on our lived experience will almost always broaden our ideas of whatever is truly good.

The cartoon character Charlie Brown would often say “Good grief” when he suffered a loss or disappointment of some kind. Like many truths that only become known after we ponder them a bit, we might have learned that grief, in all its many painful manifestations, is heartfelt in the positive sense of the word. Grief is always about love, primarily of persons, but also of ideas and ideals, of pets and possessions, as well as other personal losses. The losses are real, but love is not taken from us. On the contrary, in grieving, we continue to love, and it is both heartfelt and good. We learn through such experiences that love does not come to an end with loss, nor are we diminished as persons.

Most of us feel distress when we become aware of others’ suffering from pain or sorrow. This compassionate concern of ours might be slight or intense, depending upon how closely we identify with or care about others and the causes of their distress. Sometimes we can help through our actions or our presence, at other times we cannot engage with them directly, though we can pray for them. No matter how we respond, love is involved, even when we decide not to take any specific action. Because love really is our greatest capability, and most clearly expresses our purpose in life, compassion is as heartfelt an experience as are all the other more pleasant ways we express our care for others.

While it is possible to say prayers with little awareness of what we are doing, or to pray in our own words but with divided attention, not all heartfelt prayer is that in which we have feelings that we would consider positive. Love is not a feeling, but a choice. Sometimes we pray when we are upset or are seeking help for ourselves or others, and it is surely heartfelt in the sense that we firmly believe in the love of God whom we address with our concerns at those times. We might not receive immediate answers that alter the circumstances that concern us, but our act of trust is a movement of love, and God’s response is always loving presence with us so that we are the better for our prayer, never worse off.

All that we think, say, and do that corresponds with our heart’s orientation to whatever is good can rightly be called heartfelt.

We might say “Sure!” when responding positively to a request for help. We might want assurance about some specific matter and ask, “Are you sure?” And we emphasize a statement by saying, for example, “We sure had a good time.” In conversational language, “sure” is usually more than a synonym for a more formal word because it expresses our personal investment in what we say through voice and gesture. For this reason, spoken words of assurance are often more effective in communicating our intention than are those that are written.

We all have unique ways of interacting with God that change as we grow in the relationship, just as happens with our friends, family, and all our other personal connections with others. We develop these patterns of communication mutually, thorough our various conversations, shared activities, and other experiences of relating. Just as we might sometimes seek assurances from others that we are being understood and that we understand them correctly, we might sometimes wonder if our manner of praying is well received or whether we are adequately perceiving whatever God communicates to us. We would like to be sure.

If we ask someone we see for reassurance about the manner of our interactions, it is not only their words that meet with our sense of truthfulness, but also how they express themselves non-verbally, which is verified by resonance with our feelings. When we ask God, we usually do not hear audible words and we do not see gestures and have eye-contact that would give us the surety we seek. Rather, any words or ideas that come to us are in our minds, and they bear their authority in the match they make with our beliefs. Instead of visual confirmation, we receive an interior sense of peace, which is sometimes strongly felt, but usually very gentle yet quite real.

Although each of us relates with God according to our unique personality, we can still share with one another some aspects of our experiences of praying. Some of us tend to be very colloquial in the words we use, and others are content with language that is more formal. For example, some might literally tell God that they want to be “sure” that their manner of praying is acceptable, and others might express the same concern by saying that they want to be “certain” about their prayer. The one thing that is sure and certain about these, and all other words and expressions we might ever use, is that they are wholly acceptable to God when our hearts verify them as truly ours.

God responds to all our concerns about the acceptableness of the thoughts and words that come from our hearts with the equivalent of “Sure!”

For many, summer is a time to think for swimming, whether in a pool, lake, stream, or the ocean. Fish are continually swimming in their surrounding element, and by extension, sometimes we might say of ourselves that we are swimming in paperwork, or that a wealthy person is swimming in cash. We exaggerate to express our sense of being immersed in something. Conversely, it is not an exaggeration to believe that we are swimming in grace, immersed in God.

If we go swimming, it is our choice to go into the water. We certainly do not make the water; it is already there. We can see it and touch it, and perhaps smell it, taste it, and sometimes hear its movement as well. With the all-pervasive presence of God in which we live, our choices are not the same as with swimming in water. We are already in God, but we can choose to look and listen, even taste, touch and smell the love that surrounds us, for God is in all people, things, and events. Our choice is not about whether to enter this ocean of grace but about whether to accept that we are in it, and to swim in it.

We might enjoy a visit to the ocean. We could look at the expanse of water and note that we are pleased with what we see. We might accept it consciously as a gift and grace, for any least movement of appreciation for what we see, smell, hear, taste or touch is itself an implicit contact with the immense love that it is there for us at that moment. The same is true for all the many and varied experiences of beauty in nature that we can recall having had. We can also choose more conscious openness to the reality of God creating not just a scene in general but intending it specifically for us at this moment as those who can perceive it, appreciate it, and even give thanks for it. When some people watch a sunset, the words come to mind, “Thank you God.” Others say the same thing when they get up in the morning, believing that being alive is truly a gift.

If we go swimming, we must continue breathing air. We are not fish, who can extract the oxygen they need directly from the water in which they live. When we choose to accept that we are swimming in the love of God, we do not need the equivalent of flotation gear or breathing apparatus, no matter how far or deep we go, but we do need to swim. We do this by exercising our faith, our trust that God is all good and loves us as we are. Whether we are beginners or long-time practitioners, it is always God who invites, encourages, and enables us to swim.

Summer is a good time to go swimming in grace.

The board game, Monopoly, uses the word in its primary meaning, for the winner is the one who controls almost all the property. Although most of us occasionally read about a business monopoly, we are more accustomed to the derivative, “monopolize.” We might say that someone monopolizes the conversation, or that some group has monopolized all the best seats. But is it possible for anyone to monopolize another person’s love?

Some may expect that they should be the sole recipient of another’s love, and some may believe that they supply all the love that their chosen one could possibly want or need. Such monopolizing might work in board game entertainment, but in life, love is unquantifiable and knows no limits. To try monopolizing love in any human relationship would be as futile as attempting to monopolize air.

No one would ever imagine monopolizing all God’s love or attention, and yet our love, which some might try to monopolize, is a sharing in God’s infinite love. Our love comes from the source where there is always more, though we can become so exhausted that we might think we have no more love to give. However, it is our energy that is limited, not love. We cannot maintain constant activity, and although love is shown in deeds, it is not the deeds themselves but our decisions that, in union with God’s love, do not cease being love, even when we are asleep or have no power for conscious activity of mind or body. 

Since we cannot monopolize anyone’s love, might God monopolize our love? The First Commandment states that we are to love God with all our hearts, minds, and souls, which seems quite comprehensive. And we know from daily experience that to love God is to love all whom God loves, for God’s love envelopes all of us. Our love is oriented towards embracing all that God loves; not only all persons, but all of creation. From this perspective, God’s love in us includes not only the vastness of the universe, but whatever else exists, even invisible realties that are unknown to us.

However, we know ourselves well enough to recognize that in our lived experience, we are often greatly distracted from our primary calling to love. We must admit that we do not come close to the ideal of loving like God. Here is where the reality of God’s love impacts us at the deepest level: each of is loved as we are right now. The consequence of letting that reality into our minds and hearts is exactly how God’s love opens our minds and hearts to love more like God. God’s love in us expands continually if we are willing, especially if we ask for the gift.

We are not God. But we are loved, and our calling is to love.

Although most people in our times accept that the brightest object in the sky before sunrise is the planet Venus, we can easily imagine that in ages before telescopes, any bright object in the heavens might have been thought of as a star. The brilliant point of light was called the Morning Star because it was the sure sign that the sun would soon rise, bringing light and warmth to a darkened world. We are consoled by anticipating whatever will enlighten us, especially in those times when we are disturbed or anxious. We welcome any indication that relief is on the way. 

Our anticipation is even greater when we perceive a sign, a Morning Star, that a person will soon be arriving who has the ability and fitness to help us with our specific concerns. The best situation is when the sign we receive is also a person, someone who assures us of both the imminent arrival and the complete expertise of the one who will come to our aid. Sometimes a friend or family member or even a stranger can bring great reassurance to us in a time of crisis with the simple words that the appropriate helper is on the way. For a sick child at school, the most welcome words are those of whoever can say that a parent will soon be there. We often help one another when we offer to contact the person who can best address someone’s specific need. We do not likely think of one another as morning stars, but the consequences of our helpful actions are all good.

Many Christians find a natural affinity with the symbolism of the Morning Star in the person of Mary, the mother of Jesus. Not only was she a sign of his coming during her pregnancy, but by her being mother, is a reassurance that her son shares fully in our frail humanness, having complete experience of what we need, as well as the capacity and the desire to help us. Any present image, thought, or consideration of Mary as mother of Christ announces that the God who creates us also loves us, and without taking away our freedom to choose, is present to us within our human form, not outside or beyond us.

Jesus is occasionally called the “Day Star,” as the one who is anticipated by the “Morning Star,” and is even more radically life-giving than is the sun. In his person, we have the help we need to do what we cannot do on our own, including our attempts at meeting the apparently impossible challenge of loving those who are opposed to our best interests. The inspiration for behaving according to our ideals rather than our ideas comes to us from Christ who loves us as we are in the present, enabling us to act in ways that transcend the thoughts and feelings that are contrary to those of our hearts.

The Morning Star proclaims the coming of the Son to us.

When taken simply as a word, “squeeze” is rather peculiar in appearance and in sound. Aside from “breeze,” it is an unlikely candidate for use in poetry, as “sneeze” rhymes, but is not usually the subject of carefully crafted lines that might lift one’s spirits. We can be pleased by the thought of freshly squeezed orange juice, and at a deeper level, appreciate the touch of someone gently squeezing our hand. Context is very important for the words we use not only in speaking but also with those we use in our minds to understand our own experiences.

What a difference there is in needing to squeeze into a crowded public conveyance such as a bus or subway train and squeezing in to a modestly narrow space on a seat between two dear friends. Close contact with strangers is not high on the list of desirables for most people, but with people who are already close emotionally, it is usually more than acceptable. Even the difference between a strong, firm handshake of greeting conveys a different message than a gentle squeeze of a hand that communicates affection. We are always gentle with someone’s hand when giving reassurance, thereby communicating better than with many words our caring presence.

Through memory and reflection, you might recall a “squeeze” experience with God: I moment of closeness something like that of being seated between dear friends or having someone very caringly apply gentle pressure on your hand, arm, or shoulder. If we refrain from analyzing or censoring our recollections and look within ourselves for occasions when we felt the loving, supporting, creative, and understanding presence of God, memories might come forth that are worth recalling. For God does indeed act this way with us, who imperfect as we are, even manage to treat one another with sensitivity and care.

God did not just happen to meet us and then decide that he liked us, but chooses to create us and loves us completely, yet manifests affection for us gently so as not to overwhelm us. If mutual love is to develop, both persons must feel free to respond and not be forced. God wants us to discover that we might wish to love in return so that we will fully appreciate the relationship that is available to us. Some friendly squeezes then, should not be too surprising. There are benefits for us in looking at past experiences that we might recognize as God coming close and not pushing. We can find in them signs of our worth in the eyes of the only one who really knows us in all our thoughts and actions and in our values and even in our failures to live accordingly.

A suggestion: squeeze in a moment of thankfulness for the closeness of God.

If the water coming from a faucet is too hot, we turn it down. When the temperature in an oven is not hot enough, we turn it up. From our perspective, heat is something we want to control, whether it is to have water hot enough for washing or hotter still for cooking. However, we are perhaps more aware now than ever before of a different perspective with such things as the weather, which we cannot modify. When the outside air temperature becomes life-threateningly hot, we say that it is too hot, but we cannot turn it down.

If we focus only on our natural desire to control, whether it be with the weather or the behavior of others, frustration and deeper distress are the consequences. When we shift awareness to our beliefs about the reality of our place in creation, the circumstances that negatively affect us do not usually change, but the inner dimensions of our suffering, whether grievous or merely that of slight inconvenience, are transformed for the better. It is a mysterious process, sometimes only slightly perceptible, but as real as all the situations we encounter in life.

Some of us find it helpful to put a stop to our feelings of anger and frustration by deciding to accept the realities we cannot change. We do this by consciously recalling, in the words of our private inner language, our belief about how those things over which we do not have control, do not control us. Our essential freedom is that of deciding how we will respond, whether through acceptance when that seems appropriate, resistance when that seems correct, or seeking help from others, including God when that occurs to us as right. In prayer that is sincerely open, the most gracious assistance we receive is often discovering that letting go of our strained efforts at control is truly better than acting as though we were responsible for running the universe.

No two of us have the same exact experience, for even if we might think that common-sense beliefs are the same for all, we each have unique backgrounds that modify every level of the understandings we accept as guides for our decision-making. Yet however incompletely we communicate the practical consequences of our beliefs, we bless one another through our sharing some of what we learn when we reflect upon our experiences.

We are sometimes surprised at ourselves when rather than finding it depressing, we become more solidly founded as persons when we accept all of reality. It includes suffering, but neither it nor even death can take away the love that makes all of life valuable now and endlessly.

Within a framework of competitors, “no contest” can express someone’s opinion about unequal skill levels, or it could describe the conclusion of a competition that resulted in an overwhelming disparity of performance. However, we might find it helpful to look at our habitual attitude about life, and consciously reflect on the specific meaning of “no contest” that we employ.

We very likely reject the dark notion that we can never win, and that no matter what we do, it will all end with death. That is, we positively affirm that our lives are not a contest to see who wins, but an ongoing gift, and that victory over death is an option always available for us and for everyone else.

Contests usually end with a winner and a loser. Although a winner may suffer during a contest, that is no concern if there is not the suffering of defeat. For us who insist that life itself is not a contest, we understand and accept that suffering is included, but we do not discount it as of no concern as we focus on the ultimate success that is offered to us. Rather, we appreciate that how we deal with our suffering, and that of others, is a primary context in which we exercise our God-like capability of love.

When we are faced with personal experiences of loss, illness, or other setbacks, we accept that it is no contest between ourselves and someone else, and that we are not in a situation where we might win or lose. Instead, we do what we can to continue living in a manner that is in accord with our values, including that of caring for the valuable gift of life we have been given. Therefore, instead of using all our energies to somehow prevail as if in a contest, we rely on a far deeper truth: we are loved into being and have a purpose that cannot be frustrated by anything that happens to us, not even those less-than-good situations that we might have set in motion ourselves. We do not have to strive to win this ever-present love, for we are being at every moment created by it. All we need to do is accept it.

In our care for others in their suffering, we provide a human face for God through our words and deeds, and especially by our presence. Caring presence is not just one among many possible kindnesses but is the expression of love that most closely embodies God’s love.

No contest. 

Most of us have learned from painful experiences that making assumptions about the motives of others is not only hurtful to relationships but usually wrong, embarrassingly so. It is easy to think that if we behave in a specific way, anyone else who does the same would act with the same intention as we do. Only through dialog with another person do we learn how wrong we can sometimes be. Yet, we also need to trust our ability to understand not just what people say, but also their intentions. We do this best by not letting comparisons with our own ways of doing things prejudice our judgment. Rather, we keep learning to include the information that our feelings provide for us and not just the thoughts and ideas that can so easily lead to false assumptions.

If we look back at any of those awkward situations when we assumed that someone meant one thing, only to learn that it was not true, we might recall that we had only referred to our own similar behavior and did not pay sufficient attention to those tones of voice and bodily gestures of the other person that ordinarily give us good access to knowing their intentions. We have gifts of perception that, when we exercise them, enable us to comprehend others’ ways of thinking and acting that are neither better nor worse than ours, but often different. Allowing our interior senses to provide information for making decisions is something that we can choose to develop, just as becoming a good listener takes conscious effort over time before our efforts become habitual.

An assumption is something that is done, as would be having made a judgement based more on opinion or only on our own experience. When we assume something, it is an act in the present over which we exercise control. For example, we can decide to assume, or take on, a responsibility of some kind. We do this after reflection and based on our understanding not only of relevant facts, but also our careful observation of the internal movements of the spirit that affirm or do not support the action we have in mind. This manner of assuming is a model to follow whenever we are about to reach a conclusion about the intentions of another person. It only takes a moment to acknowledge the information present in our minds and in our hearts rather than immediately making an assumption that only reflects our limited experience.

For those who have heard of the Assumption of Mary, the mother of Jesus, it becomes easy to understand if we assume that Jesus truly loved his mother and that she alone believed in his status as Son of God even before his Resurrection from the dead. No wonder, then, that he brought her to be directly with him in eternity, without her going through death and burial to await being raised later as will be true for us.

If someone treats us to dinner, it is a treat for us when we accept it as such. But if we take it for granted, the treat is only in the mind and heart of the person who provides the dinner. When a pet is given a snack after performing well, the treat is offered more as a reward than a purely gratuitous gift. However, there are no “police” to make sure that the word “treat” must be kept to one narrow meaning. One of our human qualities is the delight we sometimes take in using words in different contexts that add connotations or implications that are not found in their dictionary entries.

If we wish, we can playfully consider the concept of treats as applied to inspirations, graces, and other interior experiences and thereby enjoy fully those that are given to us. If we had a limited concept of God as being very serious and deliberative in every situation, this exercise would not reveal much to us, whereas in accepting the idea that God’s infinite love includes what we understand as playfulness offers us a wide range of potential consolations. After all, how else could we, created in God’s image and likeness, have the capacity for using words in ways that do not follow normal usage but are both understood and amusing for the hearers and for us?

Some of the graced ideas that appear in our minds contain simple truths that cause us to smile. For example, we might find ourselves frowning over some small frustration, but wind up amused at the thought of how ugly our faces look with so little real cause. If we reflect a bit, we might recall a similar kind of thought that gave us a perspective on something that we at first took as hurtful, but which enabled us to move quickly to a moment of joy in the realization that all we had to do was move on, that there was no reason to continue thinking negatively. The essence of these graces, which are small movements within that originate in God’s love for us, is in the experience of being unexpectedly delivered from a potentially troubled, negative mindset.

The perspective of treats, regarding all kinds of subtle and surprising inspirations, is that they are not rewards for good behavior, but gifts that are entirely gratuitous. That is why the sudden twisting of an interior word from a negative meaning to a positive one elicits a smile, even if only internally. Joy is the infallible sign of the presence of God, who is quite adept at playing with words to our benefit. We do this with one another, changing a word like “bad” from being a criticism to a complement, simply by how we change our intonation and facial expressions.

Since we delight is such wordplay, we do well not to miss the humorous treats that God offers to us.