One of the joys in life is getting to amuse and play with babies: making odd faces at them and seeing how they react, mimicking their noises, and playing peek-a-boo are all great fun. I’ve even been known to do so in church; whenever a baby is looking at me, I’ll sometimes play a game where I’ll let my face delight at seeing them, look away from them, and then turn back to them and pretend I’m seeing them again for the first time, letting my face regain its bright smile and delighted expression again . . . Before repeating the process. Many babies love this little game, cooing and giggling as we “rediscover” each other.
There’s a slightly sad side to this game. The reason it “works” is because babies don’t understand the world yet. When you look away and “rediscover” them, they may well have forgotten you in the intervening 1.2 seconds. When Mommy leaves the room, there’s a genuine anguish in the baby’s mind, because the baby doesn’t know that Mommy’s coming back. “She’s not in my field of vision, and that means she’s gone and never coming back! Waaaaa!”
Of course, as babies get older, their brains develop and they realize that just because Mommy went to the bathroom for a minute, that doesn’t mean she’s disappeared forever. But it takes a while to develop that realization and tamp down that fear.
And, in some ways, it’s a fear that never goes away. When my wife drives to go to the store, there’s a non-zero chance that something terrible could happen and she won’t return. When I send my son off to school, it’s not outside the realm of possibility that it’s the last time I’ll see him. This shouldn’t be a crippling fear (although for some it is, and I pray for them). And this doesn’t mean we shouldn’t do everything in our power to keep our cars, roads, and schools safe. But it’s a realization that, yes, sometimes the worst happens, and people we love — and who we think love us — leave and don’t return. It’s a sliver of doubt that shadows every interaction and attachment we have.
Except one.
Today’s first reading from Isaiah looks at the relationship between God and humanity. It’s attributed to God (“Thus says the LORD”), and it uses a bit of rhetorical flourish to make its point: “But Zion said, ‘The LORD has forsaken me; my Lord has forgotten me.’ Can a mother forget her infant, be without tenderness for the child of her womb? Even should she forget, I will never forget you.”
Unpack that. It reads like it’s going to go one way: “In the way that a mother loves her child, I love you.” But no! It goes beyond that. Even if you can recall or envision a situation where a mother goes against the God-granted flow of the universe and fails to love her child, God’s love goes beyond that. One of the most pure, revered loves we can envision in the Earthly realm — motherhood — is blown away by God’s unending love for us.
We have to do everything in our power to ensure we understand and internalize this unending love. And it’s not just a love that extends for our entire lives (although it does) but beyond, from when God created the world to — if we accept and work toward it — beyond our deaths unto eternity.
Now, this isn’t a standard “God loves you” reflection. You’ve probably read and heard those countless times.
But take a moment to reflect why the “God loves you” sentiment is such a common reflection or observation.
Sadly, I think — for some — it’s a way to erroneously deflect larger questions or concerns. “Do I need to strive to be the best person I can be?” “Nope! God loves me as I am; it’ll all work out fine.” “Do I need to feed that hungry person or tend to my sick neighbor as Christ instructed us?” “Nah; God loves them . . . That’s more than enough.” Of course, that’s all baloney.
But another reason I think it’s such a common reflection is because — like infants who can’t grasp that Mommy still exists — we forget it. Or we don’t really believe it. Or we fail to internalize that — unlike every other relationship — our relationship with God is not fleeting, or subject to the whims of fate, or in danger of ending. Any such danger that exists is solely at our feet. And regardless of how we screw up, God is waiting for us to recognize it and come back to Him, no matter how long it takes.
It’s vital we know and realize that because — if we don’t — our inclination is to fill the void left by the absence of the Lord with . . . well, anything else.
How many people watch sporting events on Sunday instead of going to Church, hoping for a few hours’ diversion at the expense of eternity? How many people forsake a relationship with God in pursuit of unsatisfying carnal relationships, as if a fleeting chemical cocktail produced by our brains can match the Divine Love? How many people give in to despair, or gluttony, or lust for power, or any of a thousand pursuits, to fill the void left by denying God’s love?
In Mere Christianity, author C.S. Lewis has one of my favorite arguments for the existence of God: “Creatures are not born with desires unless satisfaction for those desires exists. A baby feels hunger: well, there is such a thing as food. A duckling wants to swim: well, there is such a thing as water . . . If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world. If none of my earthly pleasures satisfy it, that does not prove that the universe is a fraud. Probably earthly pleasures were never meant to satisfy it, but only to arouse it, to suggest the real thing.”
If you don’t understand God’s love — if you don’t understand, accept, internalize, and strive to live up to it — you’re in danger of falling to other temptations.
And if you’re not there in your appreciation of that divine love, that’s okay! In the same way that babies need to learn — slowly, with experience and patience — that Mommy isn’t going away, so too do we need to exercise those mental and spiritual “muscles” that keep us aware of that holy love.
If you struggle with this (or even if you don’t), my suggestion for today is to think back to a moment when you felt most calm . . . most at peace. Maybe it was a quiet day when you woke up early and saw a particularly moving sunrise. Maybe it was a tranquil moment with your children. Maybe it was at the exact moment when you had the wherewithal to solve a difficult problem.
See what aspect of God’s love you can derive of that moment. Nature. The warmth of the sun’s rays. The love of family. The gift of your intellect and ingenuity. If possible, see if you can recreate or remind yourself tangibly of that moment: Go outside, peruse a family album, or look at the artifact or achievement of your effort. Look for God’s love in that moment.
Then step back, and look for other aspects of those moments around you, and recognize the presence of God’s love in your life. Recognize that it’s natural not to feel that level of love all the time; human perceptions can’t endure the endlessness of that divine love in your life, in the same way that not every day of married life can reach the celebration and exuberance of a wedding day. (And if you feel that your own actions have kept you from fully appreciating or accepting God’s love, there’s always the Sacrament of Reconciliation to heal that road, quite possibly along with other opportunities provided by your local parish.)
The First Letter of John notes, “[E]veryone who loves is begotten by God and knows God. Whoever is without love does not know God, for God is love.” (1 John 4:8) The Book of Genesis begins: “In the beginning, when God created the heavens and the earth . . .” That means God — and His love — existed before the beginning of the world as we know it. It’s a big idea, but it’s a powerful one. And — like infants — we may not fully understand or realize what that means. But don’t let that lack of understanding lead you down dark paths. In a similar way to how we play “peek-a-boo” to grow babies’ minds, we can grow our hearts by striving to understand and act on God’s love.
Today’s readings: Is 49:8-15; Ps 145:8-9,13CD-14,17-18; Jn 5:17-30
