Attempting to grasp the Ungraspable

In today’s first reading, 2 Sam 24: 2, 9-17, David attempts to measure God’s power by counting the people of all of the tribes of Israel. How often do we, like David, try to grasp the ungraspable, try to measure God’s presence, God’s power and blessing in our lives, using finite realities-- our realities, human statistics.  We look at how much we have accomplished in a given day, how much our children have accomplished, how rich  or productive we are. Churches look at how many baptisms, confirmations, marriages, converts they secured.  Bishops counts their seminarians. Religious communities count how many postulants and novices they have. We may even count how many prayers we say each day.  When we measure our successes and use them as a means to measure God’s work, God’s presence, God’s blessings, we, like David, are attempting to reduce God and everything about God to finite realities.  God is beyond  human comprehension. Finiteness cannot measure that which is infinite.

If God were responding to my questions about this Scripture passage, His explanation might sound something like:   “Dorothy Ann, I am always more than any human being knows.  You are right, it is insulting to try to grasp the Divine. I am more, infinitely more, than human intelligence can fathom. My ways are not your ways. My thoughts are not your thoughts. Your accomplishments, your measurements of success and blessing are nought before me.   Love cannot be measured. Nor can faith or hope, or reconciliation and forgiveness. Mystery is mystery and unfathomable.”

Let us bow down in worship and let God be God!

The mystery of life of identical twins

Yesterday I celebrated the birthday of my identical twin and I.  Unfortunately—or for my twin Doris fortunately—my twin died of a freak accident at age 2 ½.   I reflected on the fact that a fertilized egg split into two human beings: two persons who looked very much alike—I am told it was difficult to tell us apart and relatives who view pictures of us as toddlers and think they know who is who will say: “You were skinnier than Doris.” Perhaps because I only weighed 2 ½ lbs when I was born and she 3. That I survived birth was not expected and yet in the mystery of life I am here and Doris is in eternity.  I reflected on the mystery of our lives. Before we were born, according to the psalms, our days here on earth were numbered. Hers a mere 2 ½ years. Mine? I have celebrated 70 birthdays without her physically with me. The pain of that separation, at times, is still felt—more so as I grow older, for some reason, though spiritually we are very intimate with one another.  The mystery of life: both of us have been created for a reason, a mission that no one else can accomplish in our stead. And both of us, though we looked so much alike that persons had a hard time figuring out who was who, would have been called to develop unique personalities, discover our unique talents and interests in life and follow God’s will that, also, would have been separate from each other. What a mystery! And what a gift to be an identical twin, even though physically apart for most of our lives.  In her spirit self, Doris is always with me!