Today I am going to start a series of videos called “Falling in Love with Jesus.” This past weekend I was on a silent retreat at Bellarmine in Barrington, Illinois. While we were there, I continually felt that God wanted me to show every person I know and meet how much he loves them. My children were foremost in my mind. On Saturday, we went around praying the Stations of the Cross. The first one was very moving and provocative. “Jesus is condemned to death. An innocent man is about to be killed, and the laws of the land will not protect him. A crowd has gathered – not to protest, but to cheer.”
In California, a few days ago, a couple of officers were ambushed in their patrol car. Someone shot them multiple times. Protestors blocked the hospital entrance, preventing them from getting in while shouting, “We hope they die.” We should have been outraged.
A young child was shot in his yard by his neighbor. His father held him while he was dying, desperate for help. The man who shot the child had just eaten dinner with the family the night before. We should have been outraged.
A man raped a young woman. She took out a restraining order. He returned to the scene of the crime and abused her in front of her children. We should have been outraged.
Two thousand years ago, a man died on the cross who was completely innocent. He died with his arms outstretched in love for us. As he took his last breaths, he looked down on those who had orchestrated his death and said, “Forgive them, they know not what they do.”
Each moment of every day, we hurt that man even further. We say we will stop doing things that cause Him pain, but we do it again. He looks at us with love, and He says, I thirst for you. I desire you so much that I want you to spend eternity with me in heaven. Then we turn our back and continue to do things that bring some small temporal pleasure now and drive the nails deeper in His wounds. We should be outraged.
The Gospel for today paints the scene that is all too common. Standing at the foot of the cross is Mary, His mother. When so many others have run away, she is there. While people continue walking around as if nothing is happening, she fixes her eyes on Jesus. While men gamble for earthly possessions, He gifts her to the beloved disciple. We are the beloved disciples.
As a society, we seem to have forgotten the kind of love that God has shown us. Today on the Feast of Our Lady of Sorrows, we see how real love looks. She unconditionally follows Him. She stands with Him even when the sorrow pierces her soul. She takes us as her children under her wing to be there for us as well.
As Catholics, we are serious about the biblical mandate that “all generations will call her blessed.” We see Mary as the best example of discipleship available, and as the preeminent example of love for God. At the cross, we love expressed as fully as humanity can manifest it—the love of her Son for His mother, and the love of the mother for the Son. Then in the act of holy grace, her Son brings us into that love as family. Behold your mother, behold your children.
During this time of unprecedented political discord, the United States Catholic Conference of Bishops has started a Civilize It movement, which reminds us that dignity exists beyond the debate. It’s a call to remember that God made every person in His image. Whatever you do for the least of these, you do for Him. We should be trying to see Jesus in every person we encounter. One human family.
As a father, I can’t help but think of my children when I hear about people like George Floyd and Jacob Blake. We see here two men who have died. We often focus on who they were or the circumstances of their death, that we never stop to think of the life lost. Some point to what they did or who they were. This one had a criminal record, and this one hurt people. I’m sure some of that is true. Someone’s child died. A brother, a dad, a friend. In an instance, an image of God has been snuffed out.
We do not have to agree with the people and what they stood for, or even how they acted. What I do know is this if it were my biological brother or sister or child, I’d be mourning. I’d be praying for their soul, hoping for their salvation, and missing their presence.
That’s why you and I need to be standing at the foot of the cross like Mary—keeping our eyes on Jesus with the hope that there will be a resurrection. Our lifelong goal should be to keep looking for every part of His body, every person. Because there is a feast coming, a banquet, a wedding reception, and we don’t want any of our family missing. Black, white, brown, red, yellow, or any shade in between. Saint or sinner. Authority figure or brigand. Good or bad. No adjective can remove love.
It means allowing ourselves, and our wants to be crucified on the cross and looking down instead with the eyes of God on His children. My girls can rest in knowing this; I will always love them, regardless of what they do. I may disagree with what they did, and I will speak out when I don’t, but I will always cherish their life and their value. Because brothers and sisters, love is a choice. It’s standing at the foot of the cross for every single person, no matter how much it hurts or pains us to do so.
Choosing to love means looking at someone whose actions and words bring out the worst in us and saying, “God, help me to see who you created them to be. Please help me to see that spark you created in them. The one that you loved so much that you made them anyway, even if they would break your heart. Work through me give them the same grace that you gave me. Help me love them as you love me, enough to look past my sins and die for me.”
That’s what it means to burn with desire for Jesus. That even the smallest glimmer of life, the slightest reflection of your lover, that exists in every person is so precious that you yearn to bring them to Him.
A reflection on the readings for the memorial of Our Lady of Sorrows: September 15, 2020