Years ago, the Chicago Tribune ran a story about a teenager named Bill Martin. It told about Bill's desire to become a professional tennis star. It said: "He's carried on a love affair with the game since, as an eight-year-old beginner, he would stroke shots eight hours a day at River Forest Tennis Club." Martin said that as a seventh and eighth grader he became a stranger and an outcast with the other kids his age. His rigorous schedule didn't allow him any time with them. It still keeps him a very lonely person. Bill concluded, saying, 'The loneliness—it's just part of the sacrifice." It's this kind of dedication that Paul talks about in today's reading.
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How dedicated to Christ and his work are we? "Alas for those who never sing, but die with their music within them." Oliver Wendell Holmes
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As a Jew, Paul could be proud of many things: born as a member of the chosen people and circumcised; as a Pharisee, secure in the strict observance of the Law... Yet all these had proven to be not advantages but obstacles to encountering Christ: instead, they had made him a persecutor of Christ; the Law had made him a prisoner of the Law rather than a servant of God. And now he is happy that, by the grace of God, he has discovered the foolishness of the cross. God has found him; Christ has become his riches, and all the rest doesn’t matter.
Quite often we misplace things. Not just anything but things that we need to use, things that have some kind of sentimental value to us, and things that might not belong to us even. As much as we are careful to keep those things, there are times when out of carelessness or forgetfulness, or distraction that we misplace those things. And when we realize that they are missing, we embark on a frantic search for those things. A good example would be the keys or the wallet.
When those kinds of things are lost, we will feel the anxiety that our security is at risk. In the gospel, Jesus told a parable of a search - a search for a lost sheep and a search for a lost coin. We may think that the parable may not make much sense as we would measure the worth of one sheep over ninety-nine sheep and one coin over nine coins.
But Jesus wants to point out to us that that is how God feels when one of His children is lost. God feels the urgency of an immediate all-out search. But the search can only take place when we are willing to be sent out for the search. But if we don't feel that anxiety or urgency, then nothing will be found.
Yet we must also remember that when we get lost in the jungle of life, we would also wish that someone would care enough to come and look for us and give us back some hope. Let us feel the anxiety and urgency of those who are lost in life. In looking for them and helping them, we will also find our way to God.
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Let us Pray: Lord our God, we know that Jesus came for everybody, yet he wanted to find back the very one given up by people: the tax collector, the sinner, the prodigal. Do not allow us in our zeal for what is right and good to lose sight of this one person who was written off by people, yet who merited the special concern of your Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.
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Saint Bertilla: Feast Day November 5 (Bartylla)
Sometime in the mid-seventh century, St. Bertilla entered a convent in France. Bertilla’s eighth-century biographer presented her as a model of perfect obedience for nuns and monks. He fashioned the story of her impeccable conduct to encourage them to conform eagerly to their rule of life. But he heaped so much praise on Bertilla’s virtuous behavior that she seemed to be more angelic than human. He did not succeed, however, in concealing completely the real Bertilla:
Once, when a troubled sister spoke angry words to her, Bertilla called down divine judgment upon her. Although the fault was forgiven, Bertilla worried about her curse. Then the sister died unexpectedly, choked by asthma. Not having heard the signal for the funeral, Bertilla asked the reason for the resounding chorus of psalms. When she learned of the sister’s death, she trembled fearfully. She hurried to the place where the little body lay lifeless and with great faith laid her hand on the dead nun’s breast. Bertilla ordered her receding soul through Jesus Christ, the Son of God, not to leave, but before she spoke with him, to forgive her anger against her. And God permitted the spirit that had left the body to return to the corpse. To the amazement of all, the revived cadaver drew breath. Looking at the servant of God, she said: “What have you done, sister? Why did you retrieve me from the way of light?”
“I beg you sister,” said Bertilla humbly, “to give me words of forgiveness, for once I cursed you when you had a troubled spirit.”
“May God forgive you,” said the nun. “I harbor no resentment in my heart against you now and I love you. Please entreat God for me and permit me to go in peace and don’t hold me back. For I am ready for the bright road and now I cannot start without your permission.”
“Go then in the peace of Christ,” said Bertilla, “and pray for me, sweet sister.”
Nestled among Bertilla’s virtues was a problem—anger so strong that it could cause her to damn a sister. Her unpredictable behavior endeared the saint to her charges, but also made them wary. They loved her, writes the biographer cryptically, “when she was angry and feared when she laughed.” As the saint aged she apparently overcame her flaw of anger, as her reputation for humility and gentleness spread widely. She died around the year 700.
Bertilla’s story has a special interest for Christians who are fascinated with near-death experiences. The nun she called back from death spoke of “the way of light” and of “the bright road.” So this ancient account seems to corroborate the testimony of many twentieth-century witnesses who say they “died” and traveled along a pathway to the Light.
