The Time God Spoke to Me Through the Transfiguration

I was 26, in my second year of volunteer life, and not feeling very secure about my life. I had just received a letter from a priest-relative telling me I should get back to normal life and settle down and stop living off other people (we fund-raise our own salaries) and give up adventure for reality. I was upset and shaken and started questioning everything. It didn’t help that team life was hard at that time, and our ministry seemed haphazard and not very obviously fruitful. In other words, we didn’t know what the heck we were doing.

“Perhaps I should go back to college and study some more? Maybe get a more ‘normal’ job? What am I doing? Does this life really make sense? Is this how everyone sees me? How do I really know what God wants?”

I happened to be a on a personal retreat when all this soul-searching was happening, but in spite of the appropriateness of the setting, I wasn’t really feeling like praying about it. But God had something to say, and He wanted to make sure I heard it, so He sent some... wait for it… religious sisters.

Yup, although I was technically on a two day personal silent retreat at a retreat center, some sisters who were also on retreat, and were staying in the room next to mine, came up to me the first night. “Mass is at 6 am. We’ll knock on your door at 5.45 am.”

“ Really Sisters? 5.45 am?!!! I didn’t ask you to! DO I have a choice about this? This is my personal retreat and if I want to sleep in, I’m going to sleep in!”

Er, no, that’s not what I said. What I said was, “Oh, okay, thank you so much. Sisters.” While gnashing my teeth of course. Talk about holy dispositions to retreats! (This was some years before my commitment to daily Mass began.)

Anyway so the next morning, they faithfully woke me up, and I walked with them to the Mass. It turned out to be the Feast of the Transfiguration. You know, when Jesus took Peter, James and John up the mountain, and then they got to see him shining in all his glory (like a laundry detergent commercial, only better), and Moses and Elijah appeared and then Peter is so freaked out that he just says the first thing that come in his head- “It’s so cool that we’re here! Let’s make some tents and hang out!” The cluelessness of the apostles is always such a relief to me. And then there’s a Trinity get-together and the Father gives Jesus a shout-out.

So as I was sleepily (and somewhat grumpily) reviewing the Transfiguration in my mind as Mass began, I was trying to remember the point of the story. You know, each event or story in the Bible has SOME applicable lesson or moral or point. But I just couldn’t remember.

Then the Bishop spoke, slowly and authoritatively. “As we all know, the Transfiguration is all about the Father confirming Jesus in the mission He had already given Him. All of us here have already received our mission. The Father is confirming us too in the task He has given us. We have to move forward in faithfulness to what He has already asked us to do.”

That was one of the clearest messages I have ever received from the Lord. I took it to heart, prayed about my priest-relative’s letter, and responded in detail with quotes from Church documents about the validity and need for the work I was doing. He responded accepting my answers and saying he would pray for me. I continued as a volunteer, and saw great fruit borne from that seemingly fruitless time.

Showing up for Mass, reading the bible, going on retreat – all these have often been ways the Lord has continued to speak to me in spite of my own bad attitude and bare minimum approach. Six years later I’m grateful I didn’t run away when I faced opposition or criticism, and that the Lord in His mercy spoke to me even when I was not super-interested in seeking His guidance.

God gives each one of us sufficient grace ever to know His holy will, and to do it fully. -St. Ignatius of Loyola

The World Needs Saints

I am not the only person who wants to change the world. I know many, many people trying to change it in many different ways. Enough of us see that it is broken, and we want to fix it. Or at least use a Band-aid. Or do SOMETHING.

The institutional Catholic Church is the same. At the parish level, at the diocesan level, in every group, we are all trying to do SOMETHING. We start programmes, talk series, outreaches, pick a theme for each year, plan fundraisers, start schools and orphanages, have conferences and synods and meetings and conventions.

These are often good and necessary. They are methods we use, means to an end, channels of grace. 

But too often the programme becomes the end in itself. We have meetings after meetings, our year is filled with activities, our parish is known as active and lively, and still the world is not changing. People are still furious with each other, programmes collapse as resentment and bitterness reign, or the show goes on but relationships are strained, and those who were won over by an ideal find themselves disillusioned by the reality of ugly human sin in the most 'active' of Church members.

The organization I work with does not have ONE programme. People are often confused when they ask us what we do, and we say "Share Jesus and serve the poor." They want a silver bullet, a foolproof method that will give our service value or effectiveness. I used to feel the same temptation, to put my trust in a programme. A great programme, a useful, effective programme that would change lives.

But this is what our leaders tell us over and over. Be a saint. Deny Jesus nothing. Go love people. Build relationships. Allow the Holy Spirit to lead you. Do what He tells you. Don't be afraid.

Do not be afraid to set your sights higher, to allow yourself to be loved and liberated by God. Do not be afraid to let yourself be guided by the Holy Spirit. Holiness does not make you less human, since it is an encounter between your weakness and the power of God’s grace. For in the words of León Bloy, when all is said and done, “the only great tragedy in life, is not to become a saint”. 
Pope Francis, Gaudate et Exsultate

And now I've realized not enough people in the Church are saying that, or living that. We set our sights too low, we ask for too little, and then wonder why everything is the same.

Because finally programmes don't change people. The best programme cannot truly change hearts. 

Saints make saints. People who know and love God fully and walk with Him daily are the only ones who can effect true change. Because you can't give what you don't have. Programmes, retreats, conventions, outreaches, and even movements are not only insufficient, but even counter-productive, if they are not being run by saints and disciples. When we see programmes or parishes or communities run by people who gossip, who are cold to certain people, who are quick to judge and condemn, who are defensive or resistant to feedback, who are more caught up with righteous anger than love for those who are ignorant or lost or different, who are harsh or rude or just indifferent, the programme loses all its fire.

The reverse is true too- saints enliven anything that is done just by their presence. Suddenly the retreat works, the programme works, the lay community works... because of the saints who are bringing life to it.

Our witness matters. Only lives shining with the Christ-light can bring the true Light into the world, into the messiness and ugliness of human hearts and relationships, which is where we need it the most.

When I look back at my life, even more than books or theology or talks or retreats I attended, the biggest influences were certain PEOPLE, saints who loved with all their hearts. Saints are ultimately Lovers. 'In the end, it is Christ who loves in us, for “holiness is nothing other than charity lived to the full”.' Pope Benedict XVI

Is your group, community, parish or circle made up of people trying to be saints, or trying to achieve things, or push agendas, or focusing on ideas over people? What about you? 

Read: Gaudete et Exsultate, Pope Francis'new exhortation on the call to holiness in today's world.

How to Love When I’d Rather Yell

“STOP pushing the desk, Khushi! How many times have I told you the SAME thing! Sit up straight and don’t lean against the table!” The plump, untidy little six year old gave me a shame-faced grin as she did every single time I corrected her which was probably every other minute of the thirty minutes I sat with her.

A couple of months ago I started teaching remedial reading to a few struggling students from different classes in the school we’ve partnered with before. Emmaus has two main focuses in what we do- sharing Jesus and serving the poor. As I ended three months of volunteer training in December, and was preparing for a new year, I felt the Lord calling me to live a little more closely to the poor, and serve them in a more practical and regular way. When we did a Story Club last year in the same school, we noticed that there were many, many children who struggled with even the most basic reading. I have a background of teaching, know something of phonics, and I LOVE reading, so it seemed like the right way to serve.

So four days a week, my team mate Sandra and I would head to the school and sit in the library with the kids. How exciting to give these children skills that could transform their school experience, their education, and probably their future careers! If you can’t even read English, what chance have you got? But if you can, how many more doors are opened, how much more confident you are likely to be!

We didn’t want to just teach them to read though. We wanted to show each of these children the love of Christ, to acknowledge their value and dignity as irreplaceable, unique, unrepeatable children of God. We wanted to be kind to them, to be a loving presence in their lives.

But then they came along, and they pushed the table into me every two minutes, rocked the bench until it fell over, interrupted and called out answers when it wasn’t their turn, pushed each other, complained about each other, lost their pencils, and erasers, and made the same mistakes again and again and again. And I would find my voice rising and sharpening as I corrected them again and again and again.

This is not who I wanted to be! I have had enough of sharp, irritated teachers, and I can’t stand it when I see teachers yelling at kids all the time. Angry and irritable teachers sure aren’t going to change the world, let alone show kids that they are loved.

But what was the solution?

I realized I needed to keep a stricter watch on myself. Just because I could get away with being impatient and angry, and using my sharp tongue as a weapon, didn’t mean it was okay for me to do so. But I had a new chance every day to be different. I didn’t beat myself up every time I spoke more sharply than I needed to, but stopped myself as soon as I noticed it, and tried to soften my voice and my attitude.

And instead of just trying to eradicate my own negative behaviour, I replaced it with something good. Instead of just trying to control their thoughtless or naughty behaviour, I started to affirm them every time they did something right.

When they finally sounded out a word correctly after struggling with it and doing it wrong many times, I spoke a delighted, “Good job!”and high-fived them. I gave them sweets at the end of class for good behaviour, and affirmed the ones who were participating or even trying. I learnt to stop acting as if they were ‘bad kids’, or in some way opponents, grudging every word of praise (which is strangely easy to do), and instead took every opportunity to encourage them. I read them story books occasionally, and found things to laugh at with them.

It’s only been two months with these particular kids, but I already love them. I see what God sees in them, as they give their shy little smiles, as I surprise a laugh out of them, as they pass the library when I’m with the older kids and give me a little wave from outside.

I’m pretty sure many of these kids have difficult home lives, either because of poverty or because of the common evils of alcoholic parents, broken marriages, harsh discipline methods, or just a lack of affection or consistent and kind discipline.

But when they come to reading class every day, they know they are loved, even when Susanna Miss sometimes loses her cool. And day by day, I hope the Lord is turning me into a slightly more accurate representative of HIS kind, patient, consistent love.

Here's a poem my mother wrote which she shares with teachers when she does teachers' training and formation sessions:

 A Teacher's Dream by Jackie D

Based on Matthew 25: 31-46 

I had a dream the other night,
(Or should I say, ‘nightmare’?)
There was a King upon his throne
With visage just and fair.

Above and all around him bowed
Angels, with wings unfurled;
And standing in a crowd with me,
The teachers of the world.

The King stepped down
And searched each one
With steady, measured gaze.
This one he sent to his right hand
That one, the other way.

And finally, when all had moved
Either to right or left,
He turned to those at his right hand
And said, ‘Welcome, you blessed!’

“For when I walked into your class
Ill-clad and shivering,
Your eyes were blind to faded shirt,
Your smile made me a king!

And, you, I never will forget,
For when I lost my notes,
You sat with me and patiently
Dictated while I wrote.

The day I failed to pass the test
And squirmed with fear and shame,
You hid my marks from curious eyes
And helped me try again.”

The King went on, his grateful eyes
Embraced each one with joy
Till, to my wond’ring eyes he seemed
Not man, but little boy!

When he was done, he turned
And walked to where the others stood.
His gaze grew stern, his voice grew hard
As he said, “Off with you!”

“Each time I failed to make the grade
You poked at me in fun,
And when you caught me copying,
You looked as if you’d won!

A hundred times you made me write,
‘I am a dirty cheat’ 
 You didn’t know, that with each line
The good within me ceased!

I know that you had work to do
And troubles, hard to bear,
I gave them so your heart would learn
To feel my children's’ care.

If you had only seen your sin
And put aside your pride,
I would have helped you; you’d be saved
 And many more beside!”

So, gathering the ‘Blessed ones’
He took them to himself
While all the rest, with blank despair
Stood gazing after them.

The scene was printed, sharp and clear,
Upon my waking mind.
One question loomed:
‘Was I with Him, …Or was I left behind?’