Friday of the Second Week of Advent

Indiana trees in a snow storm
by the Interstate

If you would hearken to my commandments,
your prosperity would be like a river,
and your vindication like the waves of the sea;
Your descendants would be like the sand,
and those born of your stock like its grains,
Their name never cut off
or blotted out from my presence.

Practicing Catholics and Christians often look at people who are diving into self-destruction and wonder why? Why don’t they just straighten up and fly right? Yes, it’s always hard to start a job but once you get underway the work has its own momentum and you carry it through. The same is true of marriage and parenting and most other human activities. You just die to yourself and do it. And when the going gets tough – as it will – you die a little deeper, turn to God and let Him help you.

The Hebrew prophets seem to have this attitude to the max. “If you would hearken to my commandments….” What’s so hard about that? Just do it!

Perhaps the problem is this: I think I know what God wants of me and I’m pretty sure I can’t do it. Surrender to God might mean I have to go into a rough neighborhood and hand out all my possessions as Bernard of Quintavalle did at Saint Francis’ suggestion. (He never regretted it.) Or I will have to go off to Russia or Africa and preach to hostile strangers. (Some people do!) But if I can’t see myself doing those prodigious acts, then I need not “hearken” to God’s commands at all.

There’s vanity in that. True, some people are called to do astonishing and even inexplicable acts of courage. But I’m not one of them. I’m sorry to report this but God doesn’t seem to think I am capable of charitable works on an epic scale. The Lord is only asking me to do what I do -- well. Or, at least -- better.

Recently I volunteered to wet mop the friars' dining room twice a week. It was a job that needed doing. I soon realized it included dusting the windowsills, wiping down the counters and sanitizing the adjoining bathroom. To do the job the way it should be done I move all the tables, chairs and plants to one side of the room, and then dust mop the floor before applying the wet mop. The oaken chairs can be moved only one at a time. They scrape too loudly on the floor when I drag them two at a time. And then, of course, move everything again and twice-mop the other side of the room. Finally, the tables must be turned on the stone floor tiles until their uneven legs match the uneven floor. Otherwise the wobble through our meals and drive everyone nuts. 

The easy part is wet mopping the floor. But every part of the chore is easy and every part is important, none more important than the other. I can do this -- for the friars, for the Love of God, for the sake of doing a job well, and taking both pride and pleasure in it. 

To live a spiritual life I can pay a little more attention to people around me. I can turn down the toilet seat, or turn it up, as the occasion requires. I can put these dishes in the dishwasher or take them out and put them away. I can listen without offering my own opinion. I can slow down, relax and do fewer things but do them well. I can remember for whom I am doing these things – my loved ones, my company, my nation and my God. I can find God not only in the things around me, but also in the little things I do well.