The Power of Blessing

The 3rd Sunday of Lent
Today’s Readings: Ex 3: 1-8, 13-15; Ps 103; 1 Cor 10: 1-6, 10-12; Lk 13: 1-9

When I was a kid, my grandfather got me interested in coin collecting. He was a professional numismatist. One of the favorite parts of my collection was proof sets. These are coins that are specially made for collectors. They are flawless and have a mirror finish. If you’ve ever seen a proof set, you know how beautiful the coins are—like jewels.

Unless you’re a collector yourself, you probably never gave a thought to how a bunch of silver ore from some dusty mine eventually becomes a magnificent proof coin. The short version of the story is that the ore is smelted under extreme heat and then refined to take out the impurities. The metal is then cooled and molded into bullion—plain bricks or bars. The next step is to heat the silver again and force it through rollers with terrific pressure, like a giant pasta machine, to turn it into sheets or rolls of a uniform thickness.

The mint then runs the sheet stock through punching machines to create the round blanks, or planchets, that become the coins. These are heated once again to anneal them. Then they’re washed, dried, milled to put the edge on, and finally stamped with great pressure with dies.

I guess you could say that the beautiful, shiny coin has been through quite a bit of battering and a really rough ordeal to become so perfect.

Many things of great beauty undergo a similar process—including us human beings. Everybody knows that it’s our losses and sufferings and mistakes and persistence that mold us into good and holy and beautiful people.

Our Lenten journey is all about remembering this and voluntarily putting ourselves through the spiritual smelting or annealing or stamping process so we, too, eventually, will be flawless proof coin specimens in God’s holy kingdom.

So far this Lent, we’ve talked about rediscovering our sense of gratitude to God and our belief in Christ’s lordship. Last week, we focused on how to retreat into the sanctuary of our heart in solitude as a way to reenergize ourselves and discover our divinely-inspired mission to serve God and neighbor.

Today, I’d like to speak about beginning to live out our mission—whatever it may be—with the power of blessing.

In a famous passage, St. James speaks about the human tongue. He writes:

But no one can tame the tongue; it is a restless evil and full of deadly poison. With it we bless our Lord and Father; and with it we curse men, who have been made in the likeness of God; from the same mouth come both blessing and cursing (Jas 3: 9-10). How would you like the same pipe in your house to bring you fresh drinking water and also take away the waste when you flush the toilet?

Cursing is destructive. It causes a lot of harm and creates deep spiritual injuries. Cursing ridicules, demeans and rejects people. It limits their potential. It makes people doubt their worth. It often makes a person seek revenge. You might say that cursing begets more cursing. That’s why cursing is the exact opposite of the love that God wants.

Blessing, on the other hand, helps people find inner strength and empowerment. It encourages them to achieve their fullest potential. It draws out a person’s understanding that they’re precious and beloved. And blessing, too, begets more blessing.

We have the power to choose which path we will take. And it will define our legacy.

I have to caution you, though. This blessing/cursing business isn’t always as black-and-white as you might think.

Sure, some things are obvious. It’s bad to tell people that they’re worthless. It’s bad to wish people death or tragedy. It’s bad to believe somebody deserves hell and wish they go there. Very bad.

But it is also bad when you’re quick to use God or church as a brickbat.

I can’t count how many religious-looking people I’ve met through the years who believe that they are God’s anointed truth-teachers. They hold up the bible or the catechism, and in their zealotry and fanaticism they wind up cursing, rather than blessing… pushing people away from God and church, rather than drawing them in.

It’s easy to be smug and point out other people’s sins and moral failings—it’s always other people’s, isn’t it? But I’ll tell you something: that approach will probably alienate them and drive them away. And which one of them do you think will have to answer to God causing a soul to be lost?

Our Lord models holy patience for us. He didn’t condemn the woman at the well for all her boyfriends and live-in lovers; he simply told her to sin no more. He didn’t rake Matthew over the coals for betraying his people or cheating folks on their tax revenues; in fact, he brought him into his inner circle and made him an apostle! Read through the gospels. They are filled with examples of the Lord’s patience and use of blessing instead of cursing.

We can bless people when we pray for them or sacrifice for them, but the real power of blessing comes when we interact with them face to face. Smile sincerely. Tell them, “God bless you!”—and not just when they sneeze. A gentle touch on the arm. Words of encouragement and hope, like: “I know you’re in a tough spot, but I’m here for you if you ever want to talk. God bless you.”

I like to kid sometimes that as a priest, I’m still in the advertising business—but I have a better product to sell! You might think of a blessing as selling someone on the idea that God is there for them, no matter what. What would someone have to do to convince you of that? Very simply, that’s what you need to do!

During this week’s leg of the Lenten journey, try your loving skills at building people up and giving them God’s blessing. Pray for this beautiful gift. In the words of today’s psalm:

Bless the Lord, O my soul; / and all my being, bless his holy name.
Bless the Lord, O my soul, / and forget not all his benefits.