These words concluded a homily on the Solemnity of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of God (January 1, 2021). While readily agreeing with the message, I began searching for the reason.

Definitions are generally subjective points of personal experience. Accordingly, I will leave it to you if dictionary digging is your thing. Internet surfing produced two essentially similar essays comparing humanity with divinity. Both define divinity as seeking to distribute and humanity as seeking only to gather. Further searching did not produce an original source for this concept. Two quick Biblical examples of giving & receiving are Manna in the desert and the multiplication of fishes and loaves. Realizing the issue was still limited to definitions, I wanted to see more.

How many times in life you are looking for a misplaced item and find other “lost” objects. For Advent I read the Book of Isaiah. In mediating on another topic, I recalled seeing a passage that might provide insight but could not recall the chapter or verse. Lacking progress on “humanity is never enough”, I began reading Isaiah at chapter 51. Well look at what I found- Chapter 55:2 says “why do you spend money for that which is not bread, and labour for that which doth not satisfy you? Hearken diligently to me, and eat that which is good, and your soul shall be delighted in fatness”. To paraphrase, a life that excludes God is never fulfilled.

When you hear of morality (more often  immorality) you think of someone else’s behavior or life style. Actually morality is an integral part of the many decisions we make each day. Too often our decision or action is taken without considering its morality; its goodness or sinfulness. Yes, sin and evil are part of our world whether you acknowledge it or not. Part Three of the Catechism, entitled LIFE IN CHRIST, begins with a reminder to recognize our dignity in sharing God’s own nature. It cautions Christians not to return to sinful ways. The way of Christ leads to life; a contrary way leads to destruction. Moral decisions are important for our salvation. Through the inner voice of conscience, we are obliged  to follow  the moral law, which urges us to do good and avoid what is evil.

The morality of human acts depends on (1) the object chosen, (2) the end in view or the intention; (3) the circumstances of the action. The object chosen morally specifies the act of willing accordingly as reason recognizes and judges it good or evil. An evil action cannot be justified by reference to a good intention. A morally good act requires the three sources to be in harmony- the goodness of its object, of its end, and of its circumstances together.

You plan to buy new sneakers for an exercise class. Stop a second and  evaluate the purchase by looking at the three sources of morality: the shoes (object/action), healthy exercise (intention), any restriction on your freedom to chose (circumstances). In examining a particular model you notice the shoe was imported from a country which vigorously suppresses religious liberty and actively persecutes Christians and other faiths.  It is hard to see how using a product created in a system that abuses people and their rights can be a good thing, so the purchase must be judged to be wrong. Although you have the good intention to exercise, the choice is still wrong. The circumstances is the final consideration and the one were we too often rationalize away morality- this is only one pair out of millions exported; or whatever excuse. There are alternative manufactures and other ways to exercise without falling into rationalization of a poor choice.

Okay one purchase may not seem a big thing, but likely, we have a consistent pattern of easy choices. This compiling of poor choices would fly in the face of Church teaching on global Social Justice.

Free Will is God’s special gift. Salvation depends on using it wisely.

I met John two yeas ago when I moved to the farm. We were members of the only Catholic Church in the area.

He can only be described as a powerful magnet that drew everyone to him when he entered a room. There was a drastic contrast between his brawny structure and gentle eyes. He was an 80-year old Marine who spoke with the pride of a recruit fresh out of boot camp. He respected the military and anyone who ever served- even a dog-face like me. He told fascinating stories of construction projects he supervised around the world. Once I asked his friend if these stories were true. The man said he has heard them for twenty years and the details never change. For this reason he accepted them as factual.

It is three days since John’s passing and I am thinking about the people we encounter in a lifetime. Most are nameless faces in a crowd. Some include an introduction but nothing more. Others are co-workers who we never truly know. The list narrows to acquaintances, family and finally a few friends if we are lucky. 

The tragedy is when someone extends friendship and we do not recognize the offer. My relationship with John is one of missed opportunities on my part. Once John invited me over on a Friday afternoon for a Wild Turkey on his screened porch. I declined thinking I was too busy to drive the 20 miles to kick back and laugh at Life. A couple times I participated in his monthly penny-ante poker sessions. Although he invited me back several times, I seemed to have other priorities. John loved dogs and wanted me to bring  my Cocker Spaniel around that he could see it. Whiskey Willie resists leaving the farm and loading him in the truck is a project. This was my excuse for not sharing the dog with John. For the past six months, health issues have kept John from attending church regularly. On Christmas morning I was talking to an Eucharistic Minister who was on his way to give Communion to John. I commented that I needed to stop and see him, but instead of driving two blocks to John’s home, I headed toward the farm. John was found dead on New Year’s Eve.

John, I apologize for my blindness.

When many of my generation were living in Canada, I was part of a literary club in Southeast Asia. It has been fifty years and time has eroded the reasons for our club. It could have been the scarcity of books, the economics of a soldier’s pay, or our attention to other matters. Regardless, we had our own way of sharing reading material. Someone would get his hands on a book. After consuming the first 50 pages or so, he would tear off the section and pass it to the next reader. The first section and subsequent sections would continue through the group of readers. I chuckle in recalling the pointed discussions that occurred when a less motivated reader got in the middle of the chain. Even through you had little control over the subject or author, it did not matter much.

This is how I found Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird. To this day an idea from the novel sticks with me. That is, you don’t really know a person until you actually see them. How many people do we work and even live with that we truly do not know simply because we do not take the time to see them.

While I do not know if this is true, I have no reason it doubt it. When a person blind from birth gains sight, the individual must learn to see. Witnessing a dog run behind a chair is perceived as the dog disappearing rather than an object blocking the view of the dog. Frankly, I am not consulting snopes.com to disprove this. The idea conveniently illustrates our need to learn to see others.

When we judge based on appearance, we are looking at the stratum corneum, or dead skin cells, on the surface of the person’s body. Below this thin layer we are all the same. Physically, emotionally, spiritually- we are like the facets of a diamond. The slightest movement or change in light displays a new and different quality of the human gem.

When I returned from overseas, I was dismayed at both the criticism and ignorance about Vietnam. The upheaval bothered me to the extent that I cut my leave short and reported to my next duty station. Through the years the hostility of others unknowingly became my hostility. Last Christmas a gentleman helped me to finally see this. On Christmas eve I was sitting alone in church meditating on Christ’s birth. Unexpectedly, a veteran sat down beside me and began talking about his experience in Vietnam. I responded by saying that I don’t talk about it. Not discouraged, he offered some insight that I had not previously considered. The encounter was, and remains, a special Christmas experience.

The Focolare Movement stresses that we love everyone we meet as Jesus loves us and we work for unity among all people. Lord, cure my blindness.

My friend, an engineer, was frugal throughout his career. Looking forward to an active retirement he invested his money wisely. As a result he owns a mountain top that is populated with unknown acres of virgin hardwoods. Timber of this quality is prized for use in luxury homes and yachts. This friend owns a building filled with duplicate hand and commercial power tools for working wood and metal. A hardware store inventory of nuts, bolts, screws and fasteners does not compare to his stock. He has investment accounts, retirement funds, savings plans and Social Security. My friend gained his material wealth through honest, hard work. His home is in the foothills with a breathtaking view of the valley and its small town miles below. His only neighbor’s home is not visible from his.

Besides isolation from his neighbor, my friend is completely cut off from the world. Within months of his retirement, he was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease. The mind that once analyzed problems, reduced the solution to shop drawings, and then produced the product can no longer read, write, or converse. He survives though a devoted wife who comforts and attempts to easy his fears.

His wife requested that I visit my friend. Uneasy what the visit might be like, I reluctantly drove 700 miles to see him. As I had expected, he did not know me. After a couple hours I excused myself, got in my truck and drove for hours through the mountains into the night attempting to escape the reality of this disease. I have witnessed Dementia but never Alzheimer’s.

Prayer is an important component of my daily life. Every morning I thank God for the many blessings He has given me and ask that I be a better steward of His precious gifts. Steering through the mountains, I wondered what it would be like to lose the ability to express gratitude- to lose my link to God. I prayed that God would show compassion for any of my friend’s shortcomings since he is not capable to ask himself. Surely, He will.