If God asked you for any one thing in the world, what would you ask for? Most people of faith know the story of Solomon: God asks him this question, and Solomon prudently responds that, because his kingship has been thrust upon him and he is not confident in his ability to rule, he desires most of all an understanding heart. He asks for the virtue of wisdom, which God proudly gives to him because it is a proper gift. Not only was the gift itself something admirable, but Solomon desired it for admirable purposes - to serve his people as best he could. Through Solomon, we are given a phenomenal answer should God ever ask us the same thing. But what would we actually answer?

Every moment in our lives is motivated by a desire. Maybe we’re hungry, so we have a desire to eat. Maybe we need to make sure we have a place to live, so we have a desire to make enough money for a home. Maybe we are lost in our search for meaning in our life, so we desire to pray or have a relationship with God. So if God, who is all-powerful, approaches you and offers to grant you anything you ask of Him, which desire of yours is most intense at the moment? Perhaps at different points in your life, you would ask for different things. But this should give us pause: if we are fundamentally human and God desires obedience from all of us equally, shouldn’t there be one answer that is most appropriate for all of us? Did Solomon get this right when he asked specifically for wisdom? We should first try to understand exactly what it is that Solomon asked for, and why we would entertain the thought of asking for anything else. Wisdom is not intelligence; it focuses on how to act and respond in the way that God would, rather than what seems most “rational” in the moment. Throughout his public ministry, Jesus behaves in certain ways that seem irrational to us at the time, but in the context of hindsight, was the best possible behavior for everyone involved.

We live in a world where most information known to humans, the very thing that indicates to others that we are “intelligent”, is readily available to us. This has made many people incredibly informed on current affairs and history, but has unfortunately also stripped many people of the humility that is the foundation of wisdom. Remember, Solomon asks God for wisdom because he didn’t know how to be a king; if he saw himself as intelligent enough, he would have asked for something else, like more money or more power. When we think about what our answer to the question would be, an answer might pop into our heads, but we must first ask ourselves before answering: Why do I desire this? Is this something I could attain for myself or is this something that can only be given to me perfectly by God? When we do this, we find that humility enables us to receive the greatest gifts.

Our greatest desire as human beings, whether we recognize it or not, is to be as close as possible to God. The reason why this is our Telos (or ultimate end goal) is because God is our creator, and He instilled in each one of us part of His divine image and likeness at the moment of our creation. Now, our goal is to find the perfection of that divine image and likeness and participate in it fully so that we can perfect ourselves. Our desire for closeness with God manifests itself in different ways: this is why we pray, why we follow religion, and why we build churches and temples. These churches and temples are not meant for us; rather, they are built so that God can have a proper place to come and meet us here on earth.

In the Old Testament, Solomon is characterized as an insignificant figure who is thrust into the position of his father, the great king David. He is insecure about his ability to live up to the reputation of his father, but this insecurity serves him well when God asks Solomon for anything he wishes and Solomon asks for wisdom so that he may rule his people properly. This is a monumental moment in Scripture. Through Solomon, God indicates to us what we must strive for in our earthly lives - to seek wisdom and understanding. Through this great gift that God gave to Solomon upon his request, Solomon built up the first temple in Judaism. Before the building of the temple, the Israelites recognized the presence of God in the Ark of the Covenant, but the location of this most holy throne moved from place to place. Solomon’s wisdom enabled God to have a permanent resting place with His people. If we are to model ourselves after Solomon and seek wisdom that is indicative of our likeness to God above all things, how do we enable our wisdom to allow us to establish a permanent resting place for God here on earth now that the Temple is gone?

In Christ, the entirety of God’s relationship with His people was transformed. In his sacrifice on the cross, Christ gave himself entirely to us. In the Eucharist, we participate in that same sacrifice, and actually allow Christ to enter into us by the reception of the Blessed Sacrament. If we are fervently seeking after wisdom, we will come to understand something vital about what God wants from us: through the reception of the Eucharist, WE become the permanent resting place for God on earth. Our actions, behaviors, motives, and work must reflect that. The Temple fell into disarray and corruption because of carelessness and was destroyed. More than anything, we should acknowledge our deepest desire to be close to God, and allow ourselves to be faithful resting places of His presence on earth, so that others can access Him through us. 

Catholicism is the fullest expression of what Christ wanted to establish on earth, from the intellectual rationality of our theology to our charitable outreach. There is truly a home for every person on earth within the Church because God values us in our differences, our preferences, and our talents. That being said, because we are humans, we tend to find the niche within the Church that works best for us and stick to our comfort zone. The richness and diversity of the Church is actually very helpful - we get to hear from people from all walks of life and make adjustments to our behavior as they are necessary. We were meant to live in a community so that we can learn from each other and build each other up. For example, to have a deep understanding of theology is wonderful, but it goes wasted without expressing that through charity. Charitable outreach and mission work is necessary, but we must understand the teachings of the Church that are the foundation of such actions.

The one thing we should not try to do is expect the Church to conform to the individual; the entire purpose of the Church, and Christianity in its entirety, is for us to humble ourselves before God and conform to what He expects of us. This can only be done through adhering to the faith of the Church that Christ established. But what we think is limiting to us in our ability to make the Church look how we want it to is actually a way in which we can reflect on what God actually wants from us. The most loyal followers of Christ, those who followed him through his public ministry, approached him and asked him how to pray. Jesus’ response is the prayer that should be a part of our daily life. In the Lord’s Prayer, there is a very important phrase that we must keep in mind if we want to build up the Church of Christ: “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven.” This was the same message that God instilled within the heart of King Solomon a thousand years before the life of Christ: God resides here on earth with us through His chosen people. Today, that is the Church. We simply cannot express that what God has established on earth is insignificant or malleable compared to what He has established in Heaven. Because God established the Church on earth through both the person of Christ and through those chosen by Christ to build it up, we should acknowledge that it is through the Church that God indicates to us how to introduce His kingdom and do His will here on Earth.

Jesus was often challenged by the Pharisees for his supposed earthly uncleanliness, laws that they hypocritically instituted to distance the heavenly from the earthly. In reality, God desires that the heavenly and earthly unite under His Will because they all constitute His own creation. We see the same problems in the Church today. The institution of the Church is not perfect because it is run by imperfect people. This can be frustrating at times, especially when we want it to look like how we personally think God wants it to look like. But in the imperfections of the Church’s human custodians, there is a sense of peace that it is all according to how God wills it. We should find solace in the words of Pope Pius IX, who speaks of himself as a weak man. His words give us insight into the mind of Solomon in this passage from the first book of Kings, and gives us hope when we encounter those like the Pharisees in the Gospel: “Time and again, so as to demonstrate what His power can accomplish, He employs weak instruments to rule His Church; in this way, all men may increasingly realize that it is God Himself who governs and protects the Church with his wonderful providence.”

Our communities can be fragile at times. The very nature of having relationships with other people requires every individual involved to sacrifice things for the sake of others. Whether it is in a personal relationship, a household, a local community, or a unified country, we will encounter these issues; the question is, how much are we willing to do for another person in order to foster peace and relationship-building? There is no question that our lives would be better if we all came to the table equally willing to do whatever we could for the sake of others, but this is understandably difficult to work towards when there are fundamental disagreements and independent motives. Still, there is a reason it works when we do it - God designed it to be this way. 

Previously, we’ve read in this second book of Kings that Solomon had given in to the ways of the pagans and that he would be punished for his sins. However, since he was David’s son and David was faithful to God, He would not directly punish Solomon; instead, He would punish Solomon’s descendants by allowing his kingdom to be divided. In this specific passage, we hear this warning manifested - Jeroboam was permitted to divide Solomon’s kingdom led by his son Rehoboam through the sign of the prophet Ahijah, who tore a cloak into twelve pieces and gave Jeroboam ten. The kingdom of Israel would divide itself between 12 tribes, with one still in the possession of Solomon’s descendants and another to protect the city of Jerusalem. There are two things that we should take away from this story. First, Solomon was not punished, but his descendants were. We should understand this as a warning from God to us: our actions have lasting consequences, even when we are not the ones to experience those consequences. Our virtuous acts and our vicious acts carry on and will be remembered by those who come after us.

The other thing we should take away from this story is the image of the cloak. Something that is meant to protect its wearer is rendered useless by being torn apart. You could perhaps sew it back together, but the scars of the past will always be visible. We still use this imagery today, when we refer to the fabric of our society and its potential to be torn. We have no control over the actions of others, so if someone were to tear at this fabric, we would be forced to accept the situation. But we should also remind ourselves of someone like St. Martin of Tours, who tore his own cloak in order to share the warmth and protection of it to someone else in need. Tearing at the fabric destroys the garment as a whole, but we are then called to make use of what is left for the sake of others. It doesn’t matter what our communities look like now, because we can’t change the scars of the past; but how can we work with the current situation to serve each other?

Everybody needs guidance. We come into this world with very few natural abilities, and the ones that matter are always in the context of our relationships with others. Being capable of participating in a society successfully means having to learn how to participate over time. There are plenty of people in our lives who serve as those who teach us how to be human, whether that be our parents, our school teachers, our mentors, or even our friends; in fact, we probably serve in this same role to others. When teaching or training someone in anything, there is a minimum amount of obedience expected towards the teacher from the student. If you truly want to grow as a person and get better at something, it requires setting aside your ego for a moment and listening precisely to what others have to tell you.

What happens when a student chooses not to be obedient? The answer is simple - they do not learn. However, it is their choice not to learn, and little can be done to change that. There are a couple of reasons for disobedience: perhaps the student simply does not desire to learn, maybe they do not appreciate their specific teacher and would succeed with another, or maybe the teacher is not good enough at teaching the student. There are always solutions to these problems. However, the one disastrous thing that a teacher can do in this situation is to force the student to be obedient. This is a common thing we see throughout human history - certain groups don’t want to act in accordance with another group, so they are therefore forced to act in the desired way. This is usually the catalyst for wars, tribal conflicts, and generational resentment. For example, Jeroboam does not want his newly conquered subjects to travel to Jerusalem to offer sacrifices at the Temple, so he forces those Jews under his control to offer sacrifices to idols he created and called the God of Israel. We are told explicitly by the writer of this passage that, because of this, his house was cut off and destroyed from the earth.

So what do we do when we need others to be obedient in order to act as proper members of human communities? We simply act according to the Truth. If anyone insists on acting in lies, deceptions, or falsehoods, the consequences to their decisions will certainly teach them this lesson, either directly to them or to those who witness their choices. Time and again, we have been proven that being obedient to those who care for us produces good fruit. It has also been proven that manipulating obedience with improper intentions produces negative consequences. If we are unsure about our own obedience, the answer to confusion is praying to God and trusting those who care for us. When we were trained to be participants of society, our consciences were formed - these are the moments when we look back on our formation and put our consciences to work.

Every so often in life, we come to a moment in which we are forced to choose between staying the safe course, or taking a risk for a possibly greater life trajectory. These are frightening, but exciting, moments because they build up our life stories, they lead us to the moments that make life worth living, and they possibly allow us to encounter the people who matter most in our lives. If we instead choose to play it safe and not jump at these risks, we may feel secure about the decision, but there will always be a question of “what if”. We also experience the same inner turmoil before undertaking a sacrifice for a greater good. In this situation, though, the fundamental question that arises and puts doubt in choosing sacrifice is, “would the good that results from this sacrifice outweigh the goods of avoiding the sacrifice?”

In two biblical scenes, we encounter two stories that exemplify the doubt and anxiety of sacrificing something. In this passage from the first book of Kings, a widow from Zarephath gives what little food she has to the prophet Elijah. In the Gospel, a widow gives merely a few coins to the temple, but they constitute her whole livelihood. If we were to place ourselves in the situation of these two women, that doubt and anxiety would be at the forefront of our minds at this moment. I only have a bit of flour and oil for myself, but this prophet is asking for it. I only have two small coins, but what can I give besides this as an offering to God in the Temple?  In both situations, the widows put aside the question of doubt, “what good will result from this sacrifice?”, and made the decision to go through with the sacrifice. 

It is appropriate that the story of the widow in the Temple occurs right before Jesus’ passion; he also experienced the moment of doubt and anxiety before his own sacrifice. He offered his life while being tempted by Satan in the garden, who showed him all the sins of the world and the evils that would exist even after his death. Jesus must have genuinely and intently asked himself that question, “what good will result from this sacrifice?”, especially after seeing the rejection and the sins of those of us who live with the awareness of his offering. But he still went through with it, and we should, too. It’s not a true sacrifice unless we know it will hurt, but choose to do it anyway because of its inherent goodness. Don’t let poor results lie to you, and don’t let the pain of sacrifice lie to you. Give what you can, and then some, and you will be emulating the very thing that Christ did for us. 

In the Hebrew language, the word for bread, lechem, is often used for food, in general. It is common throughout the Scriptures to hear of bread as a synonym for food, something that nourishes, satisfies, and energizes. Food is a wonderful metaphor for God in the spiritual life; it is through God that we are nourished, satisfied, and energized. But when we look at our history in contact with God, especially in the Scriptures, God is not merely a symbolic or metaphorical presence. He is a real and active presence, and that has not changed, even today. Although we may not see God in the form of a man with a long white beard who lives in the clouds, we encounter Him physically in the appearance of the one thing that has nourished, satisfied, and energized humans throughout history: bread.

If we were to forget about Catholic doctrine on the Eucharist for a second, this might sound a bit strange. Why in the world would an omnipotent and omniscient God present Himself to us in something as uninteresting, simple, and small as bread? When we look at Scripture, though, God prepared us for receiving Him in this way even in the Old Testament. We hear in this passage from the first book of Kings that Elijah has given up hope in himself and has lost all energy to continue on his mission from God. Because of this, an angel gives him cake (bread, food, lechem) and water so that he may be reenergized for his journey. If Elijah had not received this food, he would not have been prepared for his mission. It also seems to satisfy his hopelessness.

In the famous passage from the Gospel of John, Jesus spoke of Himself as the Bread of Life. In the same way that food animates us and gives us energy to go about our days, Christ is the everlasting food that gives us energy to go about our mission to do his work. It is only through this everlasting food that we can have the energy that is needed for the work we must do. In the same way that Elijah needed earthly food to continue and to complete his earthly journey, it is only through this heavenly food (the body of Christ, the bread of life) that we can continue on our journey to Heaven.

It is natural for the human heart to desire familiarity with God. In Psalm 27, the Psalmist speaks on behalf of so many of us who only wish that we could see the face of the Lord so that we may know that He exists and that we share an intimate relationship with Him. It’s interesting that the Psalmist would compose such a song, given that he would have been familiar with the stories of his people, especially that of Moses who needed to shield his own face by merely looking at God walk by and that of Elijah who covered his face when God passed by. To look at the face of God directly caused automatic death. But to us who establish relationships with other humans, eye contact and a familiarity of us facing towards the other is necessary to foster an understanding of the other. Why can’t it be the same with God?

The most basic reason why someone would reject the existence of God is because we cannot see Him in the same way that we would see others to recognize their existence. For those who do not believe in God, they should be asked what it would take to acknowledge that He exists. The answer would almost certainly be something along the lines of a sign of His majesty and greatness, of Him coming down from the clouds, of Him speaking to us clearly and powerfully as we are made to believe He communicates. God is much more grand than we could put into words, and because of this, many people assume that this is how He communicates His presence. But in that same story of Elijah who needs to cover his face because God is about to pass by, we learn how God communicates His presence to us. There is a strong and driving wind with the power to split mountains. This is not God. There is an earthquake. This is not God. There is a fire. This is not God. What motivates Elijah to leave his cave because he knows that God is present is a still, small voice. This is a more proper translation of the Hebrew than what is translated in the reading (“a tiny, whispering sound”) because stillness implies complete silence; Elijah did not audibly hear anything. Small implies that it was barely noticeable when he heard it in his heart. Voice implies that it was not merely noise, but something being communicated to him.

We want to see the face of God, and in His perfect goodness, God granted us the ability to do so in the person of Christ. But we did not recognize Christ’s identity as God because of his face; we identify his divinity through his words and the way he communicates to us, because he is the Word Incarnate. If God is communicating to us today, He does so in the same way he did to Elijah. He does so in the same way he did through Christ during his public ministry. In a still, small voice that can only be discerned if we quiet the interior of our hearts from all distractions. The wind, the earthquake, and the fire all precipitate the coming of God. But God Himself can only be heard through an active choice on our part to be willing to listen. Listening to the voice of God within us is how we are able to see His face and recognize His presence.

When we reflect on fatherhood, we think of the men in our lives who have given up so much of their own lives so that we may thrive and flourish. For a father in particular, this must be a choice freely made. Whereas a mother has a particular physical and biological bond with her child, a father gives life and is expected to be there when their child is ready to become a member of society. As many have unfortunately experienced, this does not always happen; in order to be a parent and to occupy this vocation, we are required to leave everything from our old lives behind for no other reason than for another human being to be showered with love, attention, and affection, with no expectation for anything in return. To turn your life completely over for the sake of another and to not look back at what is being left behind isn’t easy; however, it is the only expression of true love.

Every single one of us has made mistakes in our lives that have caused irrevocable damage, both to ourselves and to those around us. Hardly anyone would reject the opportunity to go back and relive their lives in order to avoid making these same mistakes again, but instead, we should see our mistakes in a different context; they are remnants, sometimes even scars, of our pasts. What is done is done, and because the consequence of our sins outlasts the guilt of our sins if we seek sincere contrition, we should accept that our world looks different because of those mistakes. However, every single one of us is also called to new life in Christ. All of the theology, catechism, religion classes, and Mass attendance in the world cannot instill a personal relationship with Jesus Christ in your heart; only a conversion of the heart, freely chosen, can move us to seek after Christ when he calls. If we are burned by our pasts, stung by our upbringings, or stagnant from our relationships when we are called, the choice to follow Christ becomes so much more difficult. We have two options: we leave our nets at the shore as the Apostles did, or we return to our old lives dejected as the rich young man did when Christ told him to leave all behind. This interior struggle is part of the human experience; Elisha also felt this way when he was called to be the successor of Elijah as prophet. Even Elisha’s first response to this calling was to ask Elijah to at least say goodbye to his parents. Elijah set no expectation on Elisha to abandon his family, but Elisha still follows once he has ensured that his family has been provided for, symbolically through the destruction of his own livelihood - his oxen and his plowing equipment. 

Your livelihood must conform to your calling to follow Christ. If not, there may not be a need to abandon such things, but when Christ calls you to leave everything behind, you must be ready to do so. Being too invested in the material nature of our livelihoods puts us at risk of not being able to give them up when we must. When you chose to have a personal relationship with Christ and follow him, you said “yes”. This “yes” was an affirmation of love; if you say “yes, but…” or provide stipulations to your relationship with Christ, your initial yes loses its power. As Christ instructs us, let your yes mean yes and your no mean no. Christ does not ask us to abandon our loved ones to follow him; rather, he asks us to focus on him so that when we are called to follow a new path, whether that is a new job, becoming a parent, finding your vocation, or surrendering your life out of love for Christ and his Church, we will be ready to lay down what we have spent our lives collecting and leaving the things that belonged to our old selves behind.

The Christian life can be described as a constant battle between giving in to your sins and serving God through Christ. Christianity is unrecognizable without the struggle against sin, The goodness of the Saints is unappreciated without recognizing the influence of Satan, and a life lived for God is more deeply understood when comparing it to a life of evil. The evil that surrounds us also helps us to know what we could potentially fall into if we reject God. But the dichotomy between the goodness of God and the evil of sin is often caricatured to a point that we misunderstand how evil lurks in the shadows waiting for us to fall away from God. True evil is the free choice to completely expel the presence of God from one’s life. What remains is an existence that is incredibly lonely and incredibly fruitless.

We have in our mind certain figures in history who we might think embody our concept of evil. We even find figures like these in Scripture. These are individuals who committed atrocities simply out of selfishness, and frequently choosing this life caused selfishness to completely swallow their entire identity. Human evil, especially the most vicious, is a reflection of that first act of man found in Scripture. But absolute evil was not found in the choice of Adam and Eve, but rather the serpent, who urged the first humans to act for themselves rather than according to God. At its core, evil is not perfected in the vicious behavior of tyrants and abusers; it is actually perfected in those who urge and entice others into abandoning goodness, holiness, and selflessness. It is this calm and unemotional evil that manifests sin most effectively. Coercion and attractive temptation is the modus operandi of Satan himself, but because we conflate this type of evil with figures like Satan and the serpent in the garden, we might falsely assume that it is less commonly found in humans. This is not true. The best example of this type of evil flourishing in Scripture is in the wicked figure of Jezebel, who was most effective by urging others to sin. In the figure of Jezebel, there is a lesson for us: any rational person is capable of being just as evil, coercive, and tempting as the serpent.

However, Jezebel is only one element of human capacity. Conversely, we have great and holy figures who completely deny the temptation of evil, like Elijah who warns those who have fallen under the influence of Jezebel. More importantly, though, we also have figures like Ahab, the evil king and husband of Jezebel who listened to her urging and became a wicked man; in fact, this passage declares that no one acted more evil in the sight of the Lord than Ahab. Still, Ahab listened to Elijah, acknowledged his wickedness, and repented. Despite all of his evil, God spared him simply because he came back to the Lord at the urging of Elijah. We should strive to act like Elijah, but we also have tremendous hope if our pasts are more like Ahab’s. We must avoid the capacity for us to become like Jezebel; Satan and the forces of evil will only resort to terror and persecution if nothing else works to overcome your soul. When the seduction of sin no longer works on you, you will be persecuted. In these moments, listen to the words of Christ. Love your enemy. Appreciate them, as they will give you a deeper understanding of your goodness. Above all, pray for their conversion.