How delightful these days to enter Loyola for weekday Mass and often find the entryway filled with sneakers -- a Covid-in-the-rearview-mirror sign of hope as the Jesuit high school retreat groups with all their energy and Frisbee throwing and earnest searching are welcomed to the House once again. Helping to clean up the Ignatian Room a bit over the weekend, I found a stray reflection sheet from last week's session: "Third Decision: I Will Seek to Turn My Will Over to God" its impressive title. Begin with a list of behaviors you know are definitely not God's will (fourteen suggested items followed!), then do everything you can to stop such things-- lots of advice here. The worksheet ended with the consolation that it takes constant vigilance and much practice to change behavior. Pray for the grace and courage and fortitude and commitment to the struggle, and seek out the help of others -- then, with a cleansed spiritual palate, you can hear more clearly what God is calling you to. (Missing from the worksheet instructions -- that this is a lifelong struggle. Sorry, guys.)
In today's very strident Gospel passage (Semitic hyberbole, yes, but still pretty darn uncomfortable reading), Jesus is setting out a worksheet of his own. Work diligently and ardently, with all the fervor you can muster, to rid yourself of any sentiment, any lifestance, any attraction or obsession that would dam up the love and grace that our God is continually showering upon us, he admonishes. (The first reading from James, with its image of 'fattened hearts,' living in luxury and pleasure with arteries blocked, is a potent Lectionary pairing today.) The Suscipe, the Prayer of Saint Ignatius, uses more graceful language than our Gospel, but it is equal in its courageous plea. Take our hopes, dreams, plans, schemes, thoughts, tears, joys, liberties, even mind and memories (in this age of Alzheimer's, the scariest part of that prayer for me) -- take it all away to leave the distilled love and grace of our Beloved.
On an endnote... Did you notice the small chestnut of Good News embedded in the first part of the Gospel? -- a kind of 'anti-hyberbole.' Jesus reminds us that even the smallest acts of kindness, given by our imperfect and still fattened and 'encrusted' selves, can work to bring about the Kingdom. Let's add that mandate to our worksheets today even as we begin some spring house cleaning.
What will we shed? What will we magnify? Good questions as we begin to prepare for the Lenten journey that begins next week.