Category: Scripture reflections

Parable of the Talents (2)

Somtimes we do not recognize things such a suffering and family problems as talents that God is giving us to make use of.

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Sr. Dorcee, belovedLeave a comment

Continuing from Gift of Faith:
(Part 1 was posted yesterday . . .)

If certain situations make you feel tense, it means that your talent is hidden within them, as if a diamond were buried beneath the ashes.  What do you do with it?  How do you make use of it?  Everything is meant to serve towards your sanctification.  In this sense, everything is grace.  Suffering, which overwhelms you or other unfavourable circumstances, is a whole mess of talents.  We, however, are often like blind people or like children who understand very little.  It is only when we stand before God that everything will be made clear to us.  Then we will see the ocean of talents in which we have been immersed.
     There are two kinds of talents: those that are less precious and those that are more precious.  If you are successful, if something comes out right for you–this is certainly a talent.  If however, nothings turns out right–this is a more precious talent.  Failures are the priceless treasures given to you in your life. Just like the master in the Gospel who returned from his travels and demanded an account from his servants, God will someday ask you, how did you make use of your personal failures, which He gave you as an opportunity, as a talent.  Sometimes there are many failures in your life–do you make use of them?

     The parable of the talents is an evangelical call to conversion.  You have to start looking at your life differently; you must look at it with the eyes of faith.  Then you will see God’s endless giving of grace; you will see your whole life as a multitude of hidden chances for continual inner transformation.  You will come to know that everything is grace.  It seems that God, granting you difficult graces, is forcing His gifts into your hands, but you resist and do not want to accept them. Yet, difficult graces are the most valuable talents of your life. Sometimes there are many of them because God wants you to have enough talents to make use of.

To be continued . . .

Parable of the Talents (1)

Sr. Dorcee, beloved1 Comment

I am rereading Fr. Dajczer’s book, The Gift of Faith–which I cannot recommend highly enough.  When I first read his take on the parable of the talents it caused a major paradigm shift in my thinking, so I thought I would share him with you over the next few days.  He prefaces his comments on the parable with a discussion of the nature of faith: faith is the ability to see everything with God’s eyes–“Every moment of our lives is permeated with the Presence that loves and bestows.  To live in faith means to be able to see this loving and constantly bestowing Presence.” 

So, on to the parable of the talents:

God waits for us to look with the eyes of faith at all the experiences we live through, especially the difficult ones.  In the parable of the talents, Jesus warns us not to close ourselves off from coming to know Him through faith and not to be slothful in using all things which God is continuously giving us. . . . A talent is a gift and material, but at the same time an opportunity.  Christ , in giving you a talent, trusts you and waits for you to take proper advantage of it.  If He has given you certain abilities, then He is not indifferent as to what you do with them.  And if, however, you did not receive these abilities–this is also a talent.  A talent is not only receiving something, but it is also lacking something.
     In the light of faith, the good health you have is a talent, but bad health is also a talent.  Jesus in each case asks the question.  What are you doing with this talent?  You can equally waste good health, and even more so, you can waste the lack of health.  …
     It is a talent, for example, if you are unable to pray; yet you consider this a misfortune.  It is important what you do with this inability to pray.  Maybe you have buried this talent and you say to yourself: well, I will not pray.  But you can gain so much from it.  The inability to pray should intensify your hunger for God, and thereby it can become a means contributing to your sanctification.
     The same thing applies when you have problems at home, when the family is quarreling, this also is your talent and an opportunity given to you by God.  What can you do with it?  If you break down, and are discouraged, then you bury it in the ground.  It is not possible for a person of faith not to see the deeper meaning of his own experiences.  The very search of the deeper understanding of personal experiences is to profit from the talent.  If you experience fear, for example, you fear suffering or death–this is also an opportunity offered to you. . . .

To be continued . . .

When you feel like you have nothing left to give . . .

Like the poor widow, Jesus is more pleased when we give from our poverty than when we give from our abundance.

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Sr. Dorcee, beloved2 Comments

Widow's MiteIn my position as superior of our community, there are many days when I feel like I don’t have anything to give my sisters–not that I don’t want to–I just feel very poor.  I also feel that way pretty much all the time in prayer these days.  I have always experienced great encouragement from the story of the widow’s mite.  Some words on this topic from Andre Louf, abbot emeritus of the Cistercian monastery of Mont-des-Cats, France:

Jesus was elated over the poor widow who offered two copper coins.  She gave from her poverty and in so doing offered up everything she had to live on (Mk 12:42-44).  The others had also given money, a lot of it even, but “from their surplus wealth” . . . Jesus, however, preferred the two miserable coins of the widow to these substantial gifts even though the coins were of no significance in the sum total of the collection.    Why did he rate this gift more highly?  Jesus’ answer was very simple: “She, from her poverty, put in everything she had, all she had to live on.”  Does this mean the others should have been more generous?  Should they have given larger sums?  Of course not.  They were naturally free to do this and a higher contribution would certainly have been appreciated.  But that was not what was important to Jesus; the issue was not so much one of quantity.  Even if the rich were to give more, they would still only be giving from their abundance.  For them it would always remain immensely difficult to give from their poverty.  It is the same for us: whatever we may give of all the things that belong to us–our money, our time, our magnanimity, our health, our thousand good qualities–even if we put all this at Jesus’ disposal, still we are only giving from our abundance.  And it will always remain hard and even painful for us to give from our poverty.  To give everything to Jesus always means to give from our poverty and that is not an easy thing to do.  But it is precisely this gift that Jesus expects from us all . . . To give from our poverty means, first of all, to know that we are poor, that we have discovered in ourselves the wound for which (for that matter) no one is responsible but which for ever makes us utterly poor indeed, poor to a degree we would not dare to admit to ourselves. . . [The widow] accepts the fact that she just wants to give what she has because Jesus looked at her and accepted her as she was.  Happy are they who dare to give from their poverty: in the eyes of Jesus they have given everything they had.   (from Mercy in Weakness)

While it was still dark . . .

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A piece I wrote a couple of years ago on Easter morning (to call myself to more hope):

“Now on the first day of the week Mary Magdalene came to the tomb early, while it was still dark . . . “ (Jn 20:1)

While it was still dark she came. She did not wait at home. She did not wait for Him or for others to come to her. And she expected to find what? Surely the stone still blocking her from Him. And yet she came. In the darkness. In her grief. She sought Him out even if only to lean upon that stone that separated Him from her. In the darkness, in her grief she came.

And what did she find? The stone rolled away—but He was not there. He was not there. “I sought him, but found him not. I called him, but he gave no answer” (Song of Songs 5:6b). “Where have they laid him? They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him” (Jn 20:13b).

Her sorrow is now greater, yet she does not return home. She stands there weeping. And seeking. While it was still dark.

And no one else can solace her. Not angels. Not gardeners . . . She still seeks Him. While it is still dark. And that seeking, that longing of her soul, that anguish at His absence is the latch Christ uses to open her heart when He says her name: “Mary.” While it was still dark.

So go to Him. While it is still dark. While you are still weeping. Even when you cannot find Him. Stand there weeping and seeking Him. And listen for your name. Even now He is saying it.

While it is still dark.