By MARIA SERMERSHEIM
MEDITATIONE IGNIS
Ezekiel is beautiful.
And tragic and heart-wrenching, and so true.
The prophets embody God’s message to the people; and in this case, Ezekiel loses his wife and is commanded not to mourn her as a sign that God is going to destroy the Temple, and Israel had better not mourn because they’d made the Temple an idol — the delight of their eyes, the desire of their souls — which should be God.
It always comes back to idolatry. We love ourselves, others and our own plans above God. And it’s easy to slip into loving the gifts more than the Giver. When we have good desires and great blessings, we can slide into a subtle and subversive substitution. We can confuse the good things we hope to do for Christ with God’s will; but as St. Alphonsus of Liguori says, “The man who follows his own will independently of God’s is guilty of a kind of idolatry.”
I’ve always been aware of the fact that I am drowning in blessings. I’m drowning in the goodness of friends, classes and the beautiful sky and – and I’m drowning myself. Because if I truly have my eyes fixed on Christ, I should be walking on this sea of blessings straight toward the Lord. I shouldn’t be trampling them underfoot by any means, but using them as the cushion for my feet and the waves that propel me forward, not the air I breathe.
The good things God gives us are not God.
The Israelites took the beautiful Temple God gave them and warped it. This was where they should have remembered Him and worshipped Him; but instead, they forgot Him. They could see the Temple, feel the Temple, and it was magnificent … and they lost sight of God. So no; they can’t cry when he tears it down and sacks its treasury, and their pride and joy is rubble. Because He’s making room for love of Him, and love of our idols leads to sin.
There’s a beautiful poem by the German poet Eichendorff, and it roughly translates as follows:
“Thou art he who gently breaks about our heads what we build, so that we can see the sky — therefore I have no complaint.”
I have built many plans, wed many hopes, esteemed many Temples. And — I hate saying this because I know He’ll do it — but I hope the good Lord tears them out of my heart.
Because I’ve seen many beautiful buildings and ceilings, but I’ve never seen one that beats the sky. That’s God’s personal painting for me, each and every day. Those colors, that particular corner in the clouds that I alone am gazing upon, that’s for me. And I ask myself, how would I paint that? Look how much it’s changing; look how much God loves me. Do I love Him? More than the gorgeous sunrise, more than my dear friends? I hope to God that I do. Because there is only one harbor of my heart (Ps 16).
This year, we’re all losing a lot of opportunities. For my part, I’m losing good dining hall food, a full semester of in-person classes, study abroad in Rome; but honestly, who cares?
They’re not God.
I invite you to look with me at this year with fresh eyes. Think of God taking Ezekiel’s wife and saying, “Don’t shed a tear.” Think of Him tearing down the beautiful Temple where Israel was supposed to worship Him and saying, “Suck it up.” He’s not saying, “Suck it up because it wasn’t that great anyway.” It was great. He’s saying, to Ezekiel, to Israel, to all of us:
“Do not mourn. I am greater. And I am here.”
Forget your idols and seek the Lord single-heartedly.