Spirit of Mission: All Things New

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Something quietly profound happened to me recently: Something inside me — my mind, heart, attitudes, even my point of view — changed radically. This followed my being hospitalized with double pneumonia last June. I got wonderful treatment and, after a week’s stay, I recovered.

It was then that I felt different, not just healthier and more rested, but centered and awake. More grounded. More focused. Peaceful.

I had an urge to go to confession, not out of guilt or duty, but because I didn’t want to carry baggage around any longer. I wrote to people from whom I was estranged, offering to meet, to listen and, if necessary, to apologize. Temptations lost their hold even as I became acutely aware of my faults and insensitivities. The desire to pray increased.

The presence of God became overwhelming: in the trees, birds, stars, seashore, cities and on mountaintops. God’s Real Presence in the Eucharist was mind-blowing. Like Moses before the Burning Bush, the ground on which I stood was holy.

I recalled Greek Orthodox liturgies with their exquisite chanting and sublime celebration of divine mysteries. After they make the Sign of the Cross, some Orthodox bend to touch the floor in a “small metanoia.” A full prostration is a “great metanoia.”

Metanoia is translated into English as “repentance,” which, to most of us, sounds like regret for our sins. Weak sauce indeed. A more dynamic iteration is a total change of heart and mind, causing one to see the world and faith and life and God differently. It’s a whole new way of thinking, being and relating. It is Jesus announcing, “Repent (Metanoia!), for the reign of God is at hand!” (Matthew 4:17)

It is God’s commandments written on one’s heart (Jeremiah 31:33). For me, it was a fulfillment of Revelation 21:5, “Behold, I make all things new.”

For the first time in my 77 years, I truly understood St. Paul’s admonition to “be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and pleasing and perfect” (Romans 12:2).

In the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector praying in the Temple, Jesus taught that while religion is transactional, true faith is transformative. The Pharisee recited a litany of his pious acts. The tax collector, however, cried out in his sinfulness for God’s mercy. Dying to himself, the tax collector went away justified. Full of himself, the Pharisee walked away untransformed, thus unredeemed.

Transactional religion teaches that if we say certain prayers or observe certain practices, God will reward us. Transactional religion tries to change God; transformative faith changes us.

All my life, religion meant outer practices, such as retreats, prayers, fasting, Lenten sacrifices and the Mass. These fed my soul — for a time. The feeling of holiness or blessing would eventually fade. Now I feel refreshed and renewed from within, as from the spring of “living water” Jesus promised the Samaritan woman (John 4:14).

These practices had been preparing me for eventual metanoia, like an athlete who trains for years ahead of a pinnacle championship. In the past, I prayed during crises for God to give me strength. Now, I pray from weakness, trusting God to be my strength.

Although religious practices may prepare us for metanoia, they cannot produce it. We surrender; God does the rest. The Way of the Cross leads through life and death to resurrection. “We cannot think our way into transformation,” Franciscan Father Richard Rohr says. “We must live ourselves into it — often weeping our way through it.”

Lent is a time of repentance, prayer, mindfulness and detachment as we enter into the profound mystery of Jesus’ sacrificial death. We give things up. We do without. We share with the poor. The Way of the Cross is real. The dying to self is real. This time, it’s my turn.

And so, with Christ, I set my face resolutely toward Jerusalem. After all, as disciples we are called to pick up our cross and follow.

Featured image: A young woman receives ashes during Ash Wednesday at Sacred Heart Church in Prescott, Arizona, as the season of Lent begins. (OSV News/Bob Roller/U.S.)

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About the author

Joseph Veneroso, M.M.

Father Joseph R. Veneroso is the former publisher and editor of Maryknoll magazine. He served in mission to Korea and now lives at the Maryknoll Center in Ossining, New York, and also ministers to a Korean Catholic parish community in New York City. His is the author of two books of poetry, Honoring the Void and God in Unexpected Places, a collection of columns from Maryknoll magazine titled Good New for Today, and Mirrors of Grace: The Spirit and Spiritualities of the Maryknoll Fathers and Brothers.