Fred Flinstone, Solomon, and the Syrophoenician woman

Remember Fred Flinstone? When faced with making an important choice, one that he clearly didn't want to do, Fred had a little devil figure that appeared above his shoulder giving him all the "right" answers, the answers he wanted to hear!

Even when my experience of God tells me differently and I clearly should know better, my little floating devilish figurine tempts me to follow strange gods, blurring my eyes and tormenting me with whispers of false comfort. I know I'm in good company, as even Solomon the wise king turned his heart away from the Lord in his old age.

By contrast, however, I can turn to Gospel examples of believers who turned to Jesus in time of crisis, not out of desperation, but out of complete and genuine trust, like the woman with a hemorrhage in Luke's Gospel (8:48) who sought simply to touch Jesus' garment trusting--KNOWING--that even that was enough for her needs. Or the Syrophoenician woman in Mark's gospel (7:25-30) who humbly begged for healing for her daughter, by falling down at Jesus' feet. I've mentioned her before here.

When faced with a choice, what is truly my heart's desire?

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Here's a video of one of the songs from "The Painter," a 1992 album by John Michael Talbot and his brother Terry: "Create in me a clean heart"

create in me
a clean heart o God
let me be like you in all my ways

give me your strength
teach me your song
shelter me in the shadow of your wings

for we are your righteousness
if we've died to ourselves
and live through your death

then we shall be born
again to be blessed in your love

Saintliness

80,000 pilgrims filled St. Peter's Square on

October 21, 2012, for the canonizations

Seven new saints this week. How wonderful is that! 

I have always loved the stories of the saints. As a young child, it is no wonder that I especially loved reading about the ones that messed up in their lives—yet still came to have lives holy enough to be declared official saints.

A few years ago in her wonderful blog, Creo en Dios!, my friend and spiritual director Susan Stabile quoted author Ron Rolheiser and his unusual definition of saintliness:

 “Gratitude is the ultimate virtue—even more so than love. What makes someone a saint is gratefulness. Because love is only real when it’s fueled by gratitude. If it’s fueled by resentment or duty, its’ going to cause resentment or be manipulative. If someone asks, ‘Who’s the most saintly person you know?’ I would say the most grateful person. Gratitude becomes the fuel for everything. It’s not just coincidental that the word eucharist means ‘gratitude’.”

I know—and understand this to be true–with my head, and I do believe it with my whole heart. But there are days when my body hurts, and it feels so draining that my mind can’t think straight. Gratitude feels very distant.

And it’s not that I don’t WANT to be grateful. But all my energy becomes focused on ascertaining how to feel better, how to control the pain. It’s all I think about. It consumes me. I can’t even begin to tell you how else I am feeling—or if there is anything else that I feel.

It is days like this when I find great comfort in the story of the Greek woman, the Syrophoenician, who heard about Jesus and simply “came and fell at his feet” [Mark 7:25].

When I don’t know what I feel. When I can’t think what words to pray. All I really need to do is fall at Jesus’ feet, as I am, and beg him with my presence. This is more than enough prayer.