Recently, in Sunday’s second reading, we read the letter of St. James. This letter has many interesting threads – more and less known. While praying today with this letter, my attention was drawn to a fragment which was given the title “Unreliability of human plans” (Jas 4: 13-17):
Come now, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we shall go into such and such a town, spend a year there doing business, and make a profit”— you have no idea what your life will be like tomorrow. You are a puff of smoke that appears briefly and then disappears. Instead you should say, “If the Lord wills it, we shall live to do this or that.” But now you are boasting in your arrogance. All such boasting is evil. So for one who knows the right thing to do and does not do it, it is a sin.
After 2020, we cannot pass by these words indifferently. In the pandemic, many of us lost loved ones, jobs, and money, but it seems to me that every single one of us has lost our plans. It turned out that in the 21st century we cannot predict everything, we cannot deal with everything. Probably for a short time, but still, we’ve learned a little bit of humility towards the unknown future.
Yesterday I found out that my uncle from my extended family died after a very short illness lasting only 3 months. In one moment, not only his plans, but also his family, friends, co-workers’ plans proved to be unreliable… Nobody is ever ready for death. It is hard not to reflect on the fragility of life at this point.
In Spanish, the phrase “hasta mañana” (until tomorrow) is often used with the addition of “si Dios quiere” (if God wills it). I like this saying very much, because it makes me realise that although I have a million plans for tomorrow, next month and in half a year, which I always don’t have enough time for, ultimately life is not in my hands and the only thing I can do is trust in the One who has it in his hands entirely. He sees the big picture, so I can focus on being here and now.
On Sunday, I was returning from my last holiday trip, remembering many amazing moments of the last two months, but also thinking with curiosity about the upcoming school year, which promises to be fascinating for many reasons. However, I did not expect that inspiring experiences would await me on the regular S8 route between Wrocław and Warsaw. The sky in front of me was covered with soft round clouds, from behind which from time to time a timid sun peeked out and nothing foreshadowed a great downpour that hit the car window in an instant. I looked in the rear view mirror and saw an image like from a dark movie – a wall of rain and darkness. I had the impression that I was on a thin line connecting two worlds.
Today in the church we remember Nathanael, so we read this amazing Gospel passage, in which there are so many interesting moments: “Can anything good come from Nazareth”, “Come and see”, “Here is a true Israelite. There is no deception in him.”, “You will see greater things than this”… Each of them is suitable for a separate inspiration for prayer and reflection. Today I stopped at the words: “I saw you under the fig tree”. I am not the first or the last to wonder what actually happened underneath that tree and how much it must have mattered to Nathanael as he immediately recognises that Jesus is the Son of God. I think that the version shown in
Today’s Gospel about the workers of the last hour reminds me of my personal pilgrimage experience from 3 years ago. Today I wanted to share with you what I discovered then:
We are celebrating the Ignatian year – a commemoration of 500 years since the conversion of St. Ignacy Loyola. It turns out, however, that in Spanish this anniversary sounds a bit different, because it’s the 500th anniversary of “the wound” of St. Ignatius. It has been 5 centuries since the founder of the Jesuits was wounded by a cannonball during the defence of Pamplona. This was, indeed, the beginning of his conversion, because reading the lives of the saints during the convalescence pushed him into giving his life completely to Jesus, but nevertheless this “wound” matters. Sometimes you has to travel 2,500 km to discover such a simple truth.
At the end of our life we will arrive
I came across the Global Catholic Climate Movement (now Laudato Si ‘Movement) a long time ago, around 2011, when my Kenyan friend Allen founded the movement operating in Africa (CYNESA). It aims to involve young Catholics in ecological activities. Since then, a lot has changed in the consciousness of the world (including the ecclesiastical one), and above all, Pope Francis wrote the encyclical Laudato Si ‘, which should lead us through the ways of properly understood ecology.
Two and a half years ago, during one of my formation meetings, I heard something wise that accompanies me until today. One simple rule: love and laugh. It captivated me and convinced me that when someone approaches life with deadly seriousness, something is wrong. Although many tears have been on my way lately, love and smiles still play the main role.
Time flies quickly on vacation, especially if you have lots of great meetings with great people planned. For the last 3 weeks, I have received, not even a sea, but a whole ocean of goodness, support and love, for which I am very grateful. Among them, I cannot fail to mention the messages from two of my former students from Gdynia, who made me very happy remembering religion lessons, which in my eyes seemed to be a complete disaster, and yet they brought someone to God. It is amazing how imperfect tools are used by the One who Himself is the Most Perfect!
“In this new experience of the world being so small, triste post iterum certainly plays its part, the sadness after the journey that we experience when we return home after an intense long journey. (…) Then, having put our suitcases in the hall, we ask: Is that all there is? Is that what it is? So that was it? ” (Olga Tokarczuk – Nobel Prize winner, “The tender Narrator”)
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