Joy in our nothingness

I remember as a child feeling anxious and afraid to reveal to my parents when I had been disobedient or had not received an acceptable grade on an exam or school project. I hated the idea of disappointing them and did not want to suffer the consequences of my poor choices or lack of preparation. At the same time, I couldn't wait to share my successes and accomplishments. It seems I couldn't get enough of their praise and approval.

Sometimes it's that way with God, too. 

We probably don't go so far as to stand before Him strutting our feathers, exclaiming, "Look at me God, I pray every morning, make it to daily Mass and give to the poor, aren't You pleased? Don't You love me for how good I am?" Yet, it is much easier to think that He blesses us for the good that we do (and He does!) than to believe that He continues to love us, and desires us most, when we fall.

We tend to overlook how infinitely merciful and loving He is. Of course, it is right to continue to strive toward perfection, to make good use of the gifts - the talents, the charisms - that God has so generously given us. We know not to squander these gifts, but to use them for His greater glory. To be good and faithful servants by serving others and so forth. And to always be grateful.

But sometimes we forget.

And sometimes we fall.

We fall often. At least I know I do. (I have the bruises to prove it.) And it's so easy to become downright discouraged. We feel anxious and afraid to admit that we have failed. We try to hide or mask our failure by making excuses or rationalizations. But He knows us better. He constantly beckons us to come forward, to strip ourselves of all pretenses, to stand naked, vulnerable and small, like little children, before Him. In offering Him our weakness, we soon realize that that is what attracts Him to us more than anything.


He is our Father who runs out to meet the repentant soul when we have absolutely nothing left.

He is the Heavenly Hound who chases us up hill and down, along shadowy paths and wide highways, ever calling us to turn back, to travel a different path, the narrow path, the right path.

He is the Good Shepherd who leaves the flock to rescue that one lost, rebellious sheep.

 In her autobiography, and often reiterated in her personal letters, Saint Therese of Lisieux - the great saint of the 'little way', and Doctor of the Church -  writes that "we are to accept our weakness and rejoice in our failings, because through them, we will know the power and the goodness and mercy of God."

And to Saint Faustina, Christ says, "My secretary, write that I am more generous toward sinners than toward the just. It was for their sake that I came down from heaven; it was for their sake that My Blood was spilled. Let them not fear to approach Me; they are most in need of My mercy." (The Diary of Saint Faustina, 1275)

 To practice the 'little way' to  holiness means more than "doing small things with great love" as Blessed Mother Teresa wisely instructs us. Yes, it certainly includes offering our everyday, menial tasks to Him for the salvation of others or for our own. It's more than showing kindness and mercy toward others, no matter how insignificant it may seem.

The little way also means stripping ourselves of all that we are and have and hold dear. To realize and to accept joyfully that we are nothing! It is our utter weakness that draws Him toward us - more than our goodness, our virtues. After all, we cannot achieve goodness or virtue without Him! 

Even when we are miserable, entirely spent, and have nothing left to offer, when we find prayer difficult, when God seems very far away; He does not abandon us. He - Mercy and Love - makes up for what is lacking in us.

"When the time comes and we cannot pray, it is very simple - let Jesus pray in us to the Father in the silence of our hearts. If we cannot speak, He will speak. If we cannot pray, He will pray. So let us give Him our inability and our nothingness." - Blessed Teresa of Calcutta -- from her book Love: A Fruit Always in Season

Not only is He loving and merciful -- He is Love and Mercy.

He begs us to allow Him to shower us, to bathe us in His deep ocean of Mercy. The Mercy, promised, in the days of old, to Abraham and to the generations to come.

Upon greeting her cousin Elizabeth, Our dearest, Blessed Mother recites the breathtakingly beautiful prayer, the Magnificat, in praise of our heavenly Father:

My soul magnifies the Lord
And my spirit rejoices in God my Savior;
Because he has regarded the lowliness of his handmaid;
For behold, henceforth all generations shall call me blessed;
Because he who is mighty has done great things for me,
and holy is his name;
And his mercy is from generation to generation
on those who fear him.
He has shown might with his arm,
He has scattered the proud in the conceit of their heart.
He has put down the mighty from their thrones,
and has exalted the lowly.
He has filled the hungry with good things,
and the rich he has sent away empty.
He has given help to Israel, his servant, mindful of his mercy
Even as he spoke to our fathers, to Abraham and to his posterity forever. 

(Luke 1:46-55)

Our Lady reminds us of the exquisite relationship between humility and holiness. He exalts the lowly and sends the rich away empty. 

And His Mercy is infinite - from generation to generation.

Do not be anxious or afraid, jump in!

Our Lady of the Visitation, pray for us.

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