Lord, you speak personally to all men by what happens to them from moment to moment.[1]

Now let us turn to a second way in which God's calls can come to us. I mean the events of life. The Hebrew word davar has two meanings: word and event. Reasonably so, since the encounter with the Word of God, if authentic, is truly an event. Every event likewise is a word, and the light shed by Scripture often enables us to discern what God is telling us or calling us to through particular events.

Everything that happens to us is in some way or other a call from God—to grow, to change, to see things differently, and to undergo conversion.[2]

While many circumstances of our lives are not direct products of God's will, Scripture invites us to believe that God is present in everything and can bring what is good for us out of even the most difficult situations. The saints testify with total unanimity to this confidence in divine providence. But to bring goodness from everything, God seeks our cooperation. Whatever happens, even if it is the consequence of error or sin, can be received and understood as a call from God.

This truth is fundamental, but it should not lead us to attempt to interpret events in a superficially "spiritual" way reflecting fundamentalism or fatalism. Often we do not know the meaning of what happens. The calls God sends us through events must emerge gradually and be discerned with prudence, without imposing interpretations on them. Meanwhile, the essential thing is to welcome events and live them out with faith, even if we don't understand them.

Another danger to avoid is a scrupulous attitude, pressuring us to find the meaning of everything lest we violate God's will. This is a fear rooted in a psychological need for security that separates us from the simplicity and freedom of God's children.

Yes, there are subtleties and complexities here, but they should not obscure the fundamental point. Listening for God's calls makes it possible for us to live every situation positively and opens a pathway to freedom in every situation, even the most seemingly hopeless.[3]

HAPPY EVENTS, CALLS TO GRATITUDE AND GIVING

Everything that happens contains a call from God. The big and little happinesses of life are first and foremost calls to thanksgiving, and the happiness will be even greater if we respond. It is a joyful thing to receive a gift but even more joyful to give thanks for it.

Giving thanks is beautiful because it is just, because it deepens our relationship with the giver, and also because it expands one's heart, making it receptive to still more graces. St. Therese of Lisieux understood this, as a bit of advice recorded by her sister Celine makes clear:

What most attracts God's grace is recognition, because if we thank him for a blessing, he is touched and he hastens to offer us ten other graces, and if we thank him with the same exuberance, what an incalculable multiplication of graces would ensue! I have seen this, try it and you will see! My gratitude is without limits for what he has given me, and I express it in a thousand ways.[4]

God's gifts are also invitations to have confidence, to welcome life, to share, to make what we are given fruitful for others, and to accept responsibility. They summon us to give ourselves and exhibit the same generosity that we have been shown.

SORROWFUL EVENTS, CALLS TO GROW

Sorrowful events also contain calls, though with a different content. They can be invitations to faith, to hope, to patience, to courage, to acts of forgiveness, to acceptance of our limits . . . the list is endless. But there is always some particular point, and it does not necessarily become clear to us all at once.

When someone is in a difficult situation, the most important thing to do, and the most liberating, is not to resolve the situation—something often beyond the person's capacity—but to understand and follow the call present in the situation. It is not always readily discernible at first, but it will be revealed little by little to one who consents to the situation and sincerely asks what God wants of us.

When the Gospel says that Jesus is the way,[5] it speaks beautiful words of hope. There are no circumstances in which the living presence of Jesus, hidden though it may be, cannot guide us, remove the obstacles blocking us, give us the strength to move ahead each day. Psalm 16 says: "You will show me the path to life, abounding joy in your presence, the delights at your right hand forever."

But the Lord's assistance is no magic wand—an intervention that makes everything go better without our active cooperation. God acts for us, but never without us—never without inviting our intellects to see things in a new light and giving us freedom to choose as we ought. Every divine intervention in one's life comes with a call to conversion. "I created you without you," the Lord said to St. Catherine of Siena, "but I will not save you without you."

ASKING THE RIGHT QUESTIONS

We have many questions in troubled times: "How can I go on?" "How long will this last?" "Why is this happening to me?" "Who's to blame?" "Is it normal for this to happen?" These questions are fair enough, and sometimes answering them can even help us solve our problems.

But often there are no answers. One can spend a lifetime, for instance, trying to assign responsibility for a situation without succeeding. Instead of being bent on getting answers, one needs the courage to leave certain legitimate questions unanswered—something always painful—and adopt a different perspective: "At the end of the day, what does God want from me in all this?"[6]

Since we crave to understand everything, this calls for a kind of conversion. But it is worth the effort, for sooner or later there will be a response. Someone who sincerely seeks God's will can count on knowing it in the end. "He would sooner make stones speak than not manifest his will to his children who search it confidently," said Jean-Jacques Olier, founder of the Sulpicians.[7]

In the course of spiritual direction, I have often observed that people in difficult situations who come to terms with their inability to understand everything and begin to ask what God wants of them here and now receive enlightenment little by little. Perhaps an act of confidence is made, or forgiveness is accepted, or there is a renewed effort to pray. Relief and release are the result, and a pathway to the future opens up.

I remember something that happened several years ago. When I preach a retreat, people often come to see me for private conversations. This time a young woman told me: "Father, everything in my life is going wrong. It's a disaster!" Humanly speaking, she was not exaggerating. I listened to her attentively, for someone in pain must be truly listened to and his or her sorrow must be understood. Her fiancé had left her, she was out of work, she had family difficulties, a bad relationship with her father, etc. As I listened, I said to myself: "My God, how can I possibly help her?" But as she spoke, at least one thing became clear: first of all, she had to forgive her father. The Lord would have to take care of the rest. God's call was clear: "Forgive your father." We prayed together for a moment, she confessed her sins, and now she had the courage to decide to forgive and leave the rest to God.

The young woman left peaceful and content. She understood what she needed to do, she had become an agent in her life again, and she felt confidence in God and in herself. She might have said: "Everything is going well in my life!"

If people know what they must do today and commit themselves to doing it and leave tomorrow to God's providence, all is well. What more can anyone do? Take the step that needs taking today. Take another step tomorrow. Every day will have its own steps to take.

Things don't always happen so simply, of course, yet I find it deeply moving to observe God's graces of light and reconciliation at work in those who sincerely seek his help and guidance. Time and again I have seen change occurring in someone with whom I was speaking. First: "I have a problem and I've come to you for a solution." But the Holy Spirit takes a hand, and then: "What is God asking of me in all this?" Or: "Where are the most faith, hope, and love to be found?" These are questions that have answers—if not at least for today. And that is enough.

In problematic circumstances, progress lies in hearing the calls that are being addressed to us. "Shema Israel, Listen, Israel!" One must pass from "What do I want from life?" to "What does life want from me?" Or, sometimes from "What do I expect from those around me?" to "What do those around me expect of me?" Whatever words are used, this conversion is always necessary and always fruitful. The Gospel very often invites us to make this change of perspective.

Whatever you wish that men would do to you, do so to them; for this is the law and the prophets (Mt 7:12).

TRUE AND FALSE RESPONSES

The answer to the question "What call is the situation addressing to me?" does not exist before the situation exists. It is not a ready-made response or a kind of psychological projection. It is similar to grace; it is like a gift. It comes in the opening of the heart and the beginning of prayer. Often one finds it in the encounter with the Word of God, and often it has the unexpected newness that is the mark of the Spirit. It gives peace and liberates.

Often one's pre-existing responses have little to do with God's true call. They reflect one's habitual way of thinking, the coping strategies one has grown accustomed to. At first they may seem very spiritual and edifying. But they are not the will of God. To hear the true call of the Spirit, one must know one's self and listen to others who often see things more clearly. Then we generally detect pretty quickly what comes from God and what comes from the "flesh," as Paul calls it—which might also be called the wounded psyche.

It may be one's habit to blame oneself for life's problems. Or to blame others. Or to think one must be heroic in a way that God doesn't ask. A person may have a fear of weakness, believing that he or she must always be strong. Some of us are in denial; some are always taking flight. These are paths that lead to rigidity, worry, and tension.

The responses that come from the Spirit are different. They are in harmony with the Word of God; they have the flavor of evangelical sweetness, of humility and peace, a note of simplicity and realism. They are also characterized by freshness and newness, and give rise to confidence. Although it sometimes takes courage to accept them, they are not restrictive in nature, not imposed from the outside, but are part of an interior dynamism that respects freedom. They lead us out of our repetitious scenarios and produce true changes. They produce a renewal in our lives that can only come from God.

The grace that St. Therese of Lisieux received at Christmas in 1886 is a powerful example.[8] She was fourteen then, and she could not have taken up her vocation to Carmel without it. Sometimes she speaks of it as a grace of conversion and sometimes a grace of healing.

At the time, Therese had an immense love of Jesus and a very authentic spiritual life, along with a great deal of emotional immaturity. She was hypersensitive, shed tears for no reason, exaggerated her need for the attention and approval of her family. After Midnight Mass it was time for the traditional opening of presents. Therese had gone upstairs to take off her hat. Her father, Mr. Martin, sleepy and no doubt tired of treating his youngest daughter as a child, expressed his weariness: "Well, fortunately it is the last year!" Everybody expected that Therese, hearing those words, would react as usual and burst into tears, ruining the occasion for the family.

But now the future saint perceived God's call: Leave the limitations of childhood, get the better of your feelings, come downstairs, as cheerful as if you'd heard nothing. She made up her mind to do that, and received a great healing: "I found again the strength of soul that I had lost at the age of four and a half." Now she could start on her giant's course toward sainthood, as she called it.

As with Therese, so with us: welcoming the calls of grace, even in small things, bears much fruit.

EVERY CALL IS A CALL TO BELIEVE, TO HOPE, AND TO LOVE

As we have seen, what God calls people to can be very different, depending on the unique paths he intends for them. They can be calls to patience, pardon, a concrete commitment to service, prayer, self-acceptance, abandonment to God's will, humility, an act of tenderness, the welcoming of a joyful event, and much else.

But, despite the vast diversity, the calls we receive are always in the end invitations to believe, hope, or love. These three "theological virtues" are a fundamental driving force of the spiritual life.

The order in which they are revealed to us is important. The first of God's calls in any situation—and especially in difficult ones—is a call to faith: to believe that God is present, is faithful, holds all things in his hand, and has not forgotten us. This most profound and radical call of our Father God is a call to confidence. Next comes thecall to hope, to expect his help and not just help from ourselves, to place our trust in him and not in human striving.

On this basis of faith and hope, we then are open to God's calls to love, a truer, purer love of God, of neighbor, of oneself.

Faith and hope are the foundations of charity. And it is love in the end that will remain. "If I. .. do not have love, I am nothing" St. Paul says.[9] Contemplation will take the place of faith, hoping will be fulfilled in having. But nothing else will replace love. The experience of loving God and neighbor in the kingdom of heaven will be more ardent and pure than the experience of loving them now, but its substance will not change.

Every trial, no matter what it may be—a health problem, a professional setback, a spiritual crisis, hard times in a relationship, or anything else—is a test of faith. Do you believe that God is present in this experience? Do you still believe in his love and his promises? Do you believe in his fidelity, his strength, in the fact that he makes everything come together for your good?

Every trial is also a test of hope. For whose salvation are you looking—only your own? Do you expect it to come about from something you do? From other human means? Or essentially from God? In what or whom do you place your trust? Your money, your street smarts, your advanced degree, your virtues, some person or institution? Or have you placed your trust only in God, and his infinite mercy?

Often, finally, trials are tests of love. This is especially true in relationships, notably including the conflict that couples experience. Is your love genuine? Is it disinterested? Does it have staying power? This apparent generosity of yours—is it real or is it only a disguised bargain (giving only as much as you get in return)?

We should not fear the trials in life. They are necessary and beneficial, provided we recognize in them the calls that God is sending us. This is how we grow. Trials hold out to us the gift of an increase in faith, confidence, and love. Recall Peter's wonderful words about faith:

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! By his great mercy we have been born anew to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and to an inheritance which is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who by God's power are guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you rejoice, though now for a little while you may have to suffer various trials, so that the genuineness of your faith, more precious than gold which though perishable is tested by fire, may redound to praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ (1 Pet 1: 3-7).

The apostle James even goes so far as to tell us:

"Consider it all joy, my brothers, when you encounter various trials" (Jas 1:2).

THE THREE AXES OF LOVE

Now let us consider calls to love and the different forms they can take.

When Jesus was asked which was the greatest commandment, he replied:

You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the greatest and the first commandment. The second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. The whole law and the prophets depend on these two commandments (Mt 22:37-40).

Love travels along two paths that are inseparable in the end: love of God and love of neighbor. But as this text suggests, there is another aspect of charity—love of one's self. ("You shall love your neighbor as yourself") This self-love is good and necessary, not egoism that refers everything to "me," but the grace to live in peace with one's self, consent to be what one is, with one's talents and limitations.

Love of God, love of neighbor, and love of self grow together and sustain one another as they grow. If one is absent or neglected, the other two suffer. Like the legs of a tripod, all three are needed in order to stand and each leans on the others. As there are six possible relationships among three entities, so there are six here.

1. Love for other people is supported by love of God. Without the strength we draw from it, patience, forgiveness, and mercy would be difficult. The capacity to love would diminish unless constantly renewed through prayer and sacraments in him who is love's source. Love is often stifled by discouragement or despair, and only healthy hope in God gives the courage needed to persevere in love.

2. Love toward others is also supported by love of self. If I do not accept myself as I am, it will eventually be reflected in resentment and conflict. Many conflicts with others are projections of conflicts with ourselves: I refuse to put up with the failings of others because I do not accept my own. If I am not at peace with myself, I make others pay for my unhappiness.

3. Love of God needs love of neighbor. If I close my heart to others and am hardened by narrow judgments, accusations, or grudges, I cannot experience the tenderness and bounty of God and grow in love of him. "For the measure you give will be the measure you get back" (Lk 6:38). So, for example, refusing to forgive someone can totally deaden one's spiritual life.

4. Love of neighbor also supports love of self. Those who close themselves off from love of others close themselves off from what is best about themselves.

They lose opportunities to be reconciled with themselves, an experience that often is mediated by others. If one is unbending and hard toward others, one's own misery will shortly be disclosed, whereas one's forgetfulness of self in order to love others leads to self-discovery. By the grace she received in the Christmas incident described above, St. Therese of the Child Jesus says: "I felt charity enter my heart, the need to forget myself in order to please, and since then I was happy!"[10]

5. Love of God also requires love of self. Not to accept myself as I am means not recognizing God's love for me. In loving me after all, God is not loving some ideal being, the person I "ought to be" or "would like to be." He takes me just as I am, and I cannot fully welcome this love without accepting myself. Pride, perfectionism, and fear of rejection are among the obstacles to that.

6. Finally, love of self is built up by love of God. Those who close themselves to God will sooner or later come to hate themselves. For the tenderness of the Father and his welcoming regard are the surest path to self-acceptance, whereas rejecting God leads to self-hatred. People today have great difficulty loving themselves—the proliferation of pop psychological books on personal development and the acquisition of self-esteem are symptoms of that. Google "self-esteem" and the result is 1.4 million pages in French alone!

My message isn't "Back to the Middle Ages," but I'm convinced that people several centuries ago didn't find it as hard to love themselves as we do now. Those people of earlier times knew perfectly well that they were creatures of God—sinners, certainly, but worthy of love and redemption; capable of great mistakes, but eligible for salvation. The rejection of God over the last three centuries was accompanied by the illusion that guilt would be eliminated in this way and human beings would finally be free and happy. But those who thought like that forgot something: without God, humankind must carry on its own the weight of distress, misery, and failings of all kinds. If there is no God, there is no pardon or mercy. Whoever makes a botch of his life has no way of being forgiven. Not even an army of therapists can teach us to absolve ourselves. Self-esteem must be based on the certitude that, whatever happens, I am loved and I can love. And only God can guarantee that.

The core of one's personality, the ground of that intimate security everyone needs, resides upon the dual certainty of being loved and being able to love. Both are necessary. Knowing that one is loved unconditionally is not enough by itself; one needs also to know that one can love and make a disinterested gift of self—that one can be fruitful and give life. Only God can guarantee this double certainty: only he loves us with an entirely unconditional love and only he assures us that, despite our limits, his grace can create in our hearts a true aptitude for loving, for being able to receive and being eager to give.

Love of God, love of neighbor, and love of self develop together, but at any given time we may find it necessary to emphasize one more than the others. Sometimes it may be intensifying love of God by praying more, trusting him more, being more open to his will, listening more carefully to his word. Sometimes it will be loving one's neighbor—practicing patience (according to St. Catherine of Siena, "the model of charity"), extending forgiveness, serving others, helping the poor, and so on. And sometimes the priority has to be self- love: consenting to one's fragility and frailty, accepting oneself, ceasing to blame oneself. We must be attentive to the Spirit's calls and discern his priorities at each particular point in our lives.

ATTITUDES THAT MAKE US RECEPTIVE TO CALLING

But how do we discern God's calls? What form should faith, hope, and love take for me here and now? It is not always easy to say, and no one-size-fits-all formula suits everyone. But certain attitudes do shed light on the vast majority of the cases and help guide our decisions. It is not a matter of cultivating some refined technique of discernment, but living in the state of interior receptivity about which I shall speak later. Six related attitudes are indispensable, to this end.

1. The first is the attitude of prayer. "Ask and you shall receive, knock and it shall be opened unto you."[11] "Pray at all times in the Spirit, with all prayer and supplication. To that end keep alert with all perseverance, making supplication for all the saints."[12] Beyond being faithful to one's set times of prayer, one needs a great desire to live for God and to love him in all things—to be in his presence as much as possible in all circumstances of life in order to be in dialogue with him. Brother Lawrence of the Resurrection, a lay brother at the Carmelite monastery in Paris in the seventeenth century, wrote as follows:

The most holy practice, the most ordinary and necessary for spiritual life in the presence of God, is to be pleased with and accustomed to divine company, to speak humbly and converse with him at all times, during each moment, without rules or measurement of time, especially in times of temptation, pain, spiritual dryness, and even moments of infidelity or sin. It is necessary to apply ourselves continuously and indifferently to this, so that all of our actions become a sort of little interview with God, not as a studied effort, but coming from the purity and simplicity of the heart.[13]

2. A second fundamental attitude that we should have is the attitude of faith, with its two inseparable aspects: confidence and obedience to the truth. Total confidence in God means abandoning ourselves entirely to his care like little children, even in the worst storms (think of the calming of the tempest in the Gospel account).[14] At the same time, we must have a great desire to welcome the truth and submit to it, according St. Peter's beautiful prescription: "Having purified your souls by your obedience to the truth for a sincere love of the brethren, love one another earnestly from the heart" (1 Pt 1:22). St. Therese used to say: "I have never looked for anything but the truth."[15] Sincerity—always being truthful with oneself, with others, and with God—is a powerful engine of spiritual progress. This can be seen, for example, in the life of Etty Hillesum. Although her moral and emotional lives were not too well defined at the start, this young woman had an authentic devotion to God and manifested admirable kindness toward others; as her journal shows, she craved and clung to the truth.[16]

One of the most authentic expressions of the desire for truth is humility, the ability to recognize one's errors, to allow oneself to be educated by others and by life, to escape the trap of always having to be right and getting to have the last word, which does so much harm to relationships and often gets in the way of truth.

Walking in faith also means consenting to a kind of obscurity, learning to live with questions we cannot answer. This clashes with our need for security and with the illusion that security lies in intellectual mastery of situations. But that is a mistake. We cannot understand everything, and recognizing our limits and placing our trust in God is the true road to security and peace.

I have often encountered people who've experienced painful emotional ruptures and have difficulty forgiving and getting on with their lives. They remain mired in their suffering, determined to understand everything that happened, to know why the other person thought as he or she did, to comprehend why they were "dumped." Sometimes our condition for turning the page is that everything be made clear to use—and that can't happen. Then the only way to move ahead is by abandoning ourselves to God and his wisdom in showing us what he wishes to show when he wishes to show it. This letting-go is hard, but healthy.

3. Third comes living in the present moment. God doesn't always send long-term solutions in response to our needs but often only little boosts, "just for today."[17]That is enough for us to go on, provided we have confidence in God.

On this subject I greatly admire a passage from St. John of the Cross' poem The Obscure Night

On that glad night,

In secret, for no one saw me,

Nor did I look at anything,

With no other light or guide

This guided me

More surely than the light of noon

Than the one that burned in my heart.[18]

Following the small flame of faith, hope, and love that burns in the heart, the soul feels as secure as if it walked in broad daylight. Let us follow the indications arising from the humble acts of faith, hope, and love the Holy Spirit inspires us to make daily. We cannot go wrong in believing, hoping, and loving. God speaks today for today. We can't know what we will be called to do five or ten years from now. Knowing what we should do today is enough.

Someone with this attitude possesses flexibility and detachment. It is not good to want always to be in charge of one's life and to be rigid in scheduling as a result. To be sure, it's desirable to have an organized life and an orderly agenda, but only while remaining open to the unexpected. If we are too locked into our plans, we are in danger of missing God's calls.

During a retreat for priests at Medjugorje, the witness of a Spirit-filled sister struck me. Sister Elvira was foundress of a splendid facility for helping young drug addicts. She told us something we priests needed to hear: "I am always ready to do, in the next five minutes, just the opposite of what I had planned!"

4. Another indispensable attitude is that of consent to the situation in which we find ourselves, especially consent to suffering. This is not just passivity in putting up with whatever happens, and much less is it the active pursuit of suffering. Relieve the suffering that can be relieved! Do not make a deity of suffering for its own sake. It is love that saves, not suffering.

Yet some suffering and struggle are part of every life. They must be borne with patience, in faith and hope, with the strength that one finds in Christ. Paul tells his disciple Timothy: "Share in suffering for the Gospel in the power of God" (2 Tim 1:8). St. Peter urges us not to consider times of trial something foreign: "But rejoice in so far as you share Christ's sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed" (1 Pet 4:13).

I do not wish to say a great deal about something I've discussed elsewhere,[19] but a few remarks may be in order here. Accepting suffering is always difficult, but it simplifies life, while the refusal to suffer complicates life enormously. In that case we are endlessly required to devise wearying, complex schemes for avoiding sorrow. Otherwise it feeds rancor, spurs rebellion, and leads to charges and countercharges that poison our hearts. It is not uncommon for people to turn simple situations into maddeningly complicated ones, just by refusing to suffer.

Christianity is often accused of being soft on suffering. But who is more suffering's friend in the end—the man who accepts difficulties with robust faith or the one who spends his time moaning and groaning about the predictable problems of living?

The radical refusal of suffering pervading Western culture today has perverse effects. Those who suffer are encouraged to consider themselves sick people or victims. But this is ruinous for social relations. Christian writings about the redemptive value of suffering sometimes overdid that theme, but the present denial that suffering can have any positive meaning does far more harm.

Often suffering is treated as if it were a disease. To help and accompany someone who is grieving is one thing: to consider such an individual as being in an abnormal state and in need of psychological counseling is quite different. We appear desperate to heal everything. An ad in a Christian magazine read: "Cure your family wounds!" I don't doubt the good intentions of the organizers of a retreat for people who had been hurt by family troubles. But the slogan surprised me. Family life is not a sickness. Are we soon to see ads headed "Get over living"? The only way to get over life is to die! Behind an obsession with healing may be a refusal to live life as it is.

"Victimization" also is in these days. Since suffering is unacceptable, it must be unjust. So anyone who suffers must be a victim. This way of thinking fuels infantile demands and unrealistic reparations.

But I repeat: All the suffering that can be removed should be removed. The Gospel tells us to feed the hungry and clothe the naked. At the same time, though, we need to accept as much suffering as human and spiritual progress require. Suffering accepted liberates the psyche from the slough of egoism, reorienting it to spiritual vitality and self- giving. This suffering opens us to the mystery of God: "Many are the afflictions of the righteous; but the Lord delivers him out of them all" (Ps 34:19).

Consenting to suffering also brings peace—the peace that enables one to hear God's calls.

5. Another attitude necessary for discerning God's calls is willingness to be accompanied. No one is self-sufficient. As St. John of the Cross remarks, God wills that we need one another: "God is extremely pleased that people are governed and directed by other people similar to themselves."[20] How good it is to know that one can turn to someone else and speak candidly about what one is experiencing, in the confidence that this is a way of receiving God's light!

Merely to put into words what is happening is itself beneficial because it fosters objectivity and clarity. But especially beneficial is the humility involved in recognizing that one cannot understand the deepest reality of one's life entirely unaided and the confidence God wants us to have in the individual and ecclesial sources of this understanding.

The sixth basic attitude is a pervasive spirit of thanksgiving. Because of its importance it deserves to be discussed at greater length.

REMAINING IN A STATE OF THANKSGIVING

"Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you" (1 Thess 5:18). St. Paul's exhortation to the Thessalonians repeats a theme often heard in the psalms: "I will bless the Lord at all times; praise shall be always in my mouth" (Ps 34:2). Thanksgiving is not just one form of prayer to be practiced now and then. It should be a fundamental attitude of heart, a disposition of life, a way of orienting one's entire life.

But it is not so easy. The scandal of evil, suffered by oneself or a loved one—these things undermine an attitude of praise. I recall something I heard said years ago by a young Jewish and Catholic philosopher, Fabrice Hadjadj, during a "literary cafe" in Paris. The question was this: "After Auschwitz, is it still possible to praise and bless the Lord?" He answered:

If after the horrors of the Nazis, we, the believers, ceased to love God and bless him, that would simply mean that Hitler had won. Everyone is free to react as he sees proper, but as far as I am concerned, I do not want to leave the victory to Hitler, so therefore I want to continue to bless God all the length of my life, whatever happens!

Praise expresses the confidence that love is stronger than hate, light stronger than darkness, and the end of history will not be the triumph of evil but the victory of the good. Jesus said to the medieval mystic Julian of Norwich: "Sin is inevitable, but all will end up well!"[21] Evil is nothingness—the absence of being—at its heart. Goodness alone has eternal value.

THE SANCTIFICATION OF THE NAME

This call to bless the name of God in all circumstances is unquestionably the most important and difficult one, but it is also the most beautiful. It ennobles the human race and enables us most fully to realize our dignity and our freedom. Someone faced with a disaster that could lead him to believe God had forgotten his promises and life was meaningless, who can nevertheless exclaim, "Blessed be the name of the Lord!" is making the greatest act of freedom and love conceivable. Suddenly he has transcended the egoism and narrowness of human mediocrity.

This is the vocation of Israel: Kiddoush ha Shem, the sanctification of the name of God. It is why the Adversary of God has so often assaulted it. The horrors of World War II can be endlessly deplored, but they do not take away the moving grandeur of that multitude of pious Jews from all over Central Europe who went to the ovens of death reciting the Shema Israel. Here was a multitudinous echo of the voice of Job, who, rather than cursing God, cried out: "The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord!" (Job 1:21). We Christians should adopt this vocation of Israel each day as we pray, "Hallowed be thy name!" It is our privilege and our duty to bless the name of God all the days of our lives. At the end of her life, Therese of Lisieux said: "This word of Job: 'Even if God kills me, I will still hope in him!' delighted me since my childhood."[22]

When the Heavenly Father's children respond to this call to bless the name of God, they raise an impregnable rampart against the forces of evil. Psalm 8 expresses this beautifully:

O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is thy name in all the earth! Thou whose glory above the heavens is chanted by the mouth of babes and infants, thou hast founded a bulwark because of thy foes, to still the enemy and the avenger (Ps 8:1-2).

The greatest act of charity one can do for others is to encourage them to live in faith and hope. To praise God is a veritable food for the soul.

My soul is feasted as with marrow and fat, and my mouth praises thee with joyful lips, when I think of thee upon my bed, and meditate on thee in the watches of the night (Ps 63:5-6).

Here is a powerful way to grow in humility—to renounce claiming merit for ourselves and acknowledge that everything good and beautiful in life comes from the generosity of God's love. As Father Raniero Cantalamessa, preacher of the pontifical household, says, "Praise immolates and destroys man's pride; he who praises God makes a sacrifice of something that is all-pleasing to God: mankind's self-praise. The extraordinary purifying power of prayer resides in this. Humility is hidden in praise."

VINDICATION OR GRATITUDE?

Praising and thanking God also helps people give up victimhood and accept responsibility. This tendency to see oneself as a victim is very common today.

Self-anointed victims spend their time complaining, asserting, and demanding. Since they have no confidence in God, they regard difficulty or suffering as somebody's mistake, if not an outright injustice. Their ideal is a life of endless gratification, with no sorrows or struggles. When put to the test, they look for someone to blame, someone to pay for the suffering. All else failing, they blame the government for what troubles them: as if the state should or even could guarantee everyone a painless existence!

One consequence of this is the emergence of a litigious society. Yes, people do sometimes have a right to seek reparations in court. But today it is common for someone who suffers something at the hands of someone else—even a member of the family—to haul the guilty party before a judge instead of confidently and responsibly facing the difficult situation, forgiving the wrong, and shouldering his burdens for himself. In the long run, this way of acting undermines life in society, by spreading the poison of mistrust.

Praise and gratitude are the great remedies for the mentality of victimhood. Instead of complaining or seeking vindication, we are led to the acceptance of life as it comes to us, even with its weight of suffering and difficulties. We come to understand that the challenge before us is not to change our lives but to change our attitude toward life, from caution and accusation to acceptance and confidence. We learn to welcome life with faith as a gift, even though it is different from what we expected. We discover that real life is far more beautiful and rich than the life of our daydreams.

This is a fundamental spiritual principle, found in the Gospel. Jesus speaks these mysterious words:

I tell you, that to everyone who has will more be given; but from him who has not, even what he has will be taken away (Lk 19:26).

In this way he proclaims one of the most important laws of life. Someone filled with resentment and unhappiness, bitter that life is not as it should be, will be deeply disillusioned. On the other hand, people who are glad for what they have received, and thank God for what befalls them will receive still more, until finally being overwhelmed by God's generosity.

I often meet people constantly at war with life. They are never satisfied and, whatever happens, feel that things should be other than they are. Their lives are spent waging futile crusades.

At the root of this way of thinking lies unconscious anger, a kind of spite. Such feelings can energize people for a while, so that they appear to be champions of generosity and justice. But in the end it doesn't work, for in the long term fruitfulness comes only from love. People who suffer in this way may need psychological help, and the practice of gratitude and praise is sure to be beneficial. When gratitude is the most fundamental disposition of one's heart, one is able to repeat Mary's words and mean them.

My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has regarded the low estate of his handmaiden. For behold, henceforth all generations will call me blessed (Lk 1:46-48).

Let us ask the Virgin of the Magnificat to help us acquire this attitude as our own.

I believe that someone able to live in a permanent state of thanksgiving will very quickly become a saint. Here is the most powerful spiritual attitude for purifying the heart and opening it to divine action. Evil has no hold on a heart filled with thanksgiving.

To sum up then: Just as mistrust and the desire for revenge close us to God's calls and gifts, so do gratitude and confidence allow us to discern and welcome them. The highest expression of this gratitude is the celebration of the Eucharist, the fullest act of thanksgiving, in which the Church joins in the thanksgiving of Christ who blessed his Father for the abundance of his love and goodness. As Pope John Paul II said, the Eucharist is given to us "so that our life, like that of Mary, may be entirely a magnificat." [23]

Notes

[1] L'abandon a la providence divine,formerly attributed to Jean-Pierre de Caussade (DDB, 2005), 137.

[2] This is true of everyone, not just believers. Life is a school for us all; a difficult and demanding school, but one full of wisdom. Some let themselves be educated with confidence and docility, and make rapid progress. Others rebel. Here is the mystery of human free will.

[3] A good definition of freedom is: the capacity to live each situation positively, not being enclosed or crushed, but of finding the way of belief and a more authentic life. This is the glorious freedom of the children of God that Christ acquired for us by his death and resurrection.

[4] Sister Genivieve of the Holy Face, Advice and Memoirs (Cerf).

[5] "I am the way, the truth, and the light" (Jn 14:6).

[6] It is good to remember a fundamental point: It is not knowledge that saves but faith. What saves (helps us advance and grow in a positive, fruitful manner) is not being able to explain everything or completely grasping the complexity of every situation or parceling out responsibility. It is finding the right attitude, the one to which God invites us. Faith lies in welcoming situations with confidence and submitting our conduct to the will of the Holy Spirit.

[7] Cited in B. Pitaud and G. Chaillot, Jean-Jacques Olier, Spiritual Doctor (Cerf), 243.

[8] St. Therese of Lisieux,Complete Works, Manuscript A 45 r (Cerf), 142.

[9] 1 Cor 13:2.

[10] St. Therese of Lisieux,Complete Works (Cerf), 143.

[11] Lk 11:9.

[12] Eph 6:18.

[13] Conrad De Meester, O.C.D., Brother Lawrence of the Resurrection.

Writings and Interviews on the Practice and Presence of God (Cerf, 1991).

[14] Mk 4:35-40.

[15] St. Therese of Lisieux, Last Interviews, 30 September.

[16] Etty Hillesum, An Overturned Life (Seuil, 1985).

[17] St. Therese of Lisieux, Poetry 5, Complete Works (Cerf/DDB), 645.

[18] Taken from the translation of Kieran Kavanaugh, OCD, and Otilio Rodriguez, OCD, inThe Collected Works of St. John of the Cross, revised edition (1991).

[19] In my work Interior Freedom (Scepter Publishers, Inc., 2007).

[20] John of the Cross,The Ascent of Mt. Carmel, book 3, chapter 22.

[21] Julian of Norwich, A Book of Showings (Cerf, 1992), 105.

[22] At the same time she specifies something that is reassuring: "It took a long time to achieve this degree of abandonment." Last Interviews, July 7.

[23] Ecclesia de Eucharistia, no. 50.

From Called to Life, by Jacques Philippe (Scepter Publishers)