By Benedictine Father Dale Launderville
What does it mean for me in my day-to-day life to be holy? God says in Leviticus 19:2: “You shall be holy as I the Lord your God am holy.” But then in 1 Samuel 2:2: “There is no one holy like the Lord.”
celebrated his golden jubilee as a vowed monk of Saint John’s Abbey on July 11 this year. He is a professor of Old Testament theology at the Saint John’s School of Theology and Seminary in Collegeville.
There seems to be a tension between the promise of Leviticus 19:2 and the claim of 1 Samuel 2:2. If imitating God is not something I can do simply by willpower, then it seems that my part in this divine human relationship is to allow God to work in me and through me. The traditional ways of coming before God in contemplative prayer such as adoration of the Blessed Sacrament and recitation of the rosary certainly have their place. But do these practices prepare me to let go of all the ways that I typically try to secure myself? Or do they contribute to my building up a sizable “bank account” of good works? Is recitation of the Psalms effective in moving me to hand on what I do not need to others? Will the praying of the Psalms help me to become known as “one who is gracious and lends” (Psalms 112:5; cf. Genesis 33:5, 11).
The way of imitating God’s graciousness ideally leads to building up relationships with others. But this way of assisting others may well carry within it the expectation that those I assist will be ready to assist me when I stand in need. Such an expectation of repayment does not measure up to the challenge that Jesus poses to us when he says in the last judgment: “For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me, ill and you cared for me, in prison and you visited me” (Matthew 25:35-36).
How many times do we find ourselves passing by the needy, justifying our actions by lack of time or presuming that the poor ones have only themselves to blame for their predicament?
Our pious practices can foster self-deception if we are not vigilant over our motivations. Do I sit before the Blessed Sacrament for 15 minutes each day to petition God to transform my self-securing competitiveness? Or do I carry out this important form of prayer as a way of measuring how much I am doing to invite God into my life? The call of the poor for assistance can get me back on the way of relating honestly with God. For me to dismiss the cry of the poor starkly points out how the exhortation of the Letter of James is for me: “[If] one of you says to [the needy ones]: Go in peace, keep warm, and eat well, but do not give them the necessities of the body, what good is it?” (James 2:16). We are embodied beings who are called to accept our limitations and to cry out to God for assistance. This day-to-day way of dying and rising with Christ is a participation in the holiness of God.
If we practice the corporal works of mercy, we will be allowing God to work in and through us. These concrete actions, if carried out in humble self-forgetfulness, will speak louder than words. Perhaps we can set out on this way of holiness only if we beg God to be with us and sustain us. The genuineness of such efforts of humble self-forgetfulness will be checked by ways we look on the faces of others. In the give-and-take of communal life, God speaks to us, challenges us and carries us forward. On this pathway of love, we hope at some point to be drawn by the “inexpressible delight of love” as St. Benedict says in the Prologue to his rule.
Spend some time journaling, reflecting on or discussing these questions.
“You shall be holy as I the Lord your God am holy.” (Leviticus 19:2) What does holiness look like in the ordinary routines of your life? Consider how your daily choices — how you speak, spend, serve and pray — either open you to God’s work or reinforce your own sense of control.
“For I was hungry and you gave me food…” (Matthew 25:35) When you encounter someone in need, what thoughts or hesitations arise in you? Explore whether your acts of mercy are shaped by genuine self-forgetfulness or by subtle expectations of recognition or reciprocity.
Father Launderville references multiple Scriptures in this column. Spend some time looking up these passages on your own.