Dai­ly Reflec­tion
August 11, 2019

Sunday of the Nine­teenth week in Ordi­nary Time
Lectionary: 117
Rev. Andy Alexan­der, SJ

Your peo­ple await­ed the sal­va­tion of the just. Wis­dom 18

May your kind­ness, O LORD, be upon us
 who have put our hope in you. Psalm 33

Faith is the real­iza­tion of what is hoped for
and evi­dence of things not seen. Hebrews 11

“Do not be afraid any longer, lit­tle flock,
for your Father is pleased to give you the king­dom. …
Much will be required of the per­son entrust­ed with much,
and still more will be demand­ed of the per­son entrust­ed with more.” Luke 13

On my retreat this sum­mer, I found that my prayer - rela­tion­ship with Jesus - came to a sim­ple and fair­ly “new” place. I just had read a piece which asked - asked me per­son­al­ly - “To whom do you belong?” and “Do I believe what I say I believe?” I found myself chew­ing these ques­tions and return­ing to the sim­ple - graced - real­iza­tion that, if I real­ly belong to the Lord (in whom I am bap­tized and whose ser­vant I desire to be) and if I real­ly believe what I say I believe (that I have noth­ing to fear because Jesus has over­come the pow­er of sin and death) then I should be a much more joy­ful, trust­ing and coura­geous person.

Jesus is lay­ing it out for us today. We real­ly have noth­ing to fear. Of course, that con­fronts the fact that we live with a lot of fears. We live, too often, in a self-pro­tec­tive mode, as though we can “con­trol” how safe and secure we are. Jesus is invit­ing us to live more freely because our life is in his hands and because we are going to enjoy eter­nal life in his king­dom for­ev­er and ever.

I’ve found myself, since that retreat, ask­ing for the grace to live with dai­ly trust, to walk with deeply joy in my heart - even in the midst of chal­leng­ing things - and to ask myself more often if I’m being coura­geous enough in tak­ing risks to love more com­plete­ly, to wit­ness my faith by the ways I am self-sac­ri­fic­ing in my care, and to open my heart to bet­ter hear the cry of the poor, so I might be a bet­ter advo­cate for those with­out a voice. Ask­ing for the grace alone give me more courage to find steps in these direc­tions in the here and now of each day.

I’m not always suc­cess­ful, and I am by no means a mod­el of a per­son in sol­i­dar­i­ty with the poor. But, desir­ing makes a dif­fer­ence. I believe it is also a step in the direc­tion of “being ready,” as Jesus describes it. Not out of fear. Not with anx­i­ety. Being in bet­ter com­mu­nion with Jesus each day, remem­ber­ing that I belong to him, and to him alone, frees me from all the mes­sages of the cul­ture around me. It frees me from so des­per­ate­ly try­ing to live in both worlds, to give myself to com­pan­ion­ship with the Lord, in half mea­sures. And, most of all, the antic­i­pa­tion Jesus talks about tastes more like long­ing - a desire to be with the one who loves me so uncon­di­tion­al­ly and completely.

May you find me eager for your com­ing, Lord, ful­ly engaged in being one with you, here and now, where your peo­ple most need this sim­ple dis­ci­ple to be.

Rev. Andy Alexan­der, SJ

Co-founder of Creighton’s Online Min­istries, Retired 2025

I was born and raised in Oma­ha, 8 blocks from where I now work.  My par­ents were very involved in the Jesuit parish here and were out­stand­ing exam­ples of a com­mit­ment to ser­vice for my sis­ter and me as we were grow­ing up.  I entered the Jesuits in 1966, and was ordained in 1979.

I love giv­ing the Spir­i­tu­al Exer­cis­es of Ignatius, in any adap­ta­tion.  One of my great­est priv­i­leges was to serve as pas­tor at Gesu Parish in Mil­wau­kee for 8 years before com­ing here.  The com­mu­ni­ty there taught me about church, and the rela­tion­ship between the wor­ship which says who we are and the min­istry to which it sends us.

One of the priv­i­leges of being back in Oma­ha was help­ing my moth­er care for my father, the last four and a half years of his life.  Both of my par­ents have died and are enjoy­ing the embrace of the Lord which they taught me about all of their lives.

When I write these reflec­tions, I try to imag­ine the peo­ple who will be read­ing them.  I try to imag­ine what ways I might be in sol­i­dar­i­ty with peo­ple strug­gling in any way.   Then I read the read­ings.  Then I ask, “what is the good news that we need to hear?”  Some­thing usu­al­ly just comes, to me.

It is tremen­dous­ly con­sol­ing to receive mail from peo­ple around the world, sim­ply express­ing grat­i­tude for a reflec­tion.  Most of the time, it is enough to know, from the num­bers, that peo­ple are find­ing this site to be a help­ful spir­i­tu­al support.