Sometimes, the Holy Spirit speaks in sweet whispers, sometimes through the words or actions of other people. Sometimes, in the stillness of a sunset or in the beauty of a soaring falcon.

Or, in work. Sometimes, for me at least, the Holy Spirit speaks to me in extra work. Today, I am frantically writing my Gospel reflections that are due to the Diocesan blog. The blog asks that the writers submit their reflections 3-4 months in advance so that they can be translated into Spanish as well. This is great!

However, it’s less great when I am rushing, don’t pay attention to the calendar on the USCCB website which I use to find out what Gospels I’m reflecting on. Sometimes, when I’m switching from the calendar view to the day view, the calendar bounces back to my current month, rather than staying ahead. And sometimes, like today, I completely disregard the gigantic letters telling me that this calendar is for August instead of January.

So, now I have a lovely reflection for August 21, 2023. Yes, that date has passed. Thankfully, God’s words are eternal so rather than wait 3 years for the cycle of readings to come back around, I’ll just share it here.

I know that this is a moment of humbleness and appreciation for the inspiration the Holy Spirit gives me for these reflections. And while I’m not complaining, maybe He could clue me into the plan before I get a full blown reflection written and nearly submitted. Maybe, but let’s be honest, clearly His ways are not my ways. And also clearly, His ways will always be the best ways.

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“Teacher, what good must I do to gain eternal life?” Wouldn’t it be so nice there was some kind of checklist we could utilize to get into heaven? That’s essentially what this young man is asking for. What can I do in exchange for heaven? As if heaven was a car (or in his case, I guess camel?) to be purchased in exchange for a specific amount of money. 

Jesus, in His pastoral way of teaching, engages in conversation with this young man. He offers a broad answer to the man’s specific question. When the man insists further, wanting to know the bottom line so he can check that box and move on with certainty, Jesus lays it all on the line for him. 

Heaven isn’t a prize to be won or an achievement to be earned. Heaven, salvation, is a free gift of God’s love and goodness. Heaven is something we receive. 

Think about a football player who wants to make a winning touchdown catch. If he’s holding a water bottle, extra cleats, a sweat band, and a marker for autographs while waving to the crowd, he’s never going to catch anything. He has to have his hands completely empty, and his whole mind and body are focused on that single catch. 

Eternity with God isn’t something we can earn. We will never be good enough, deserving enough, or great enough. This sounds disheartening, but I find St. Térèse of Lisieux’s elevator metaphor to be so perfect for when the reality of our unworthiness is on display. Térèse said, 

“I, too, would like to find an elevator to lift me up to Jesus, for I am too little to climb the rough stairway of perfection….The elevator which must raise me to the heavens is Your arms, O Jesus! For that I do not need to grow; on the contrary, I must necessarily remain small, become smaller. O my God, You have surpassed what I expected, and I want to sing Your mercies.’”

Jesus’ greatest desire is for all of us to be in Heaven with the Father. We come to heaven, not by our own merits, but by His. We have to receive them with open hands, unencumbered by pride, selfishness, vainglory, or greed for the prizes of this world. When we lift those empty hands, as Térèse says, we will be raised up in the arms of Jesus Himself, to go to the Father who loves us dearly.