It’s sometimes useful to feel useless.
We live in a world where being called useless is perhaps one of the worst insults. I think I would rather be called smelly, fat, or maybe even dumb before useless. And for no small reason: we take pride in getting things done, maximizing our productivity, and working efficiently
But while the world rewards us based on usefulness, God does not.
This truth was recently brought home for me. During this Easter Octave, I got so sick I was barely able to get out of bed and into the chapel. After a “productive” Lent of extra prayers, fasts, and almsdeeds, I was now totally “useless.” When the community prayed the Divine Office, I could only silently follow along while my brothers chanted for me. And when we had meditation, the best I could do was sit in the chapel and hope Jesus would accept my mere presence when no interior prayer was really possible.
Yet during such times, the Father is teaching us a very dear lesson. He is too good of a Father to let us go on thinking that it is by our own striving and accomplishments that we are holy or have value. Then, if perchance one day we fail to be so useful, we will feel that we have lost God’s love.
Rather, our holiness comes from the simple fact that God has chosen to dwell in us “while we were yet sinners” (Rom 5:8). We live in that day of which Jesus spoke: “In that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you” (John. 14:20). We become holy, for no other reason than the quite inexplicable fact that God has loved us first—before we have done anything.
This is a hard truth to accept because we are accustomed to thinking the only things that have value are those for which we have worked. Yet it is also a beautiful truth. It means good works are not the price of God’s love.
The challenge, then, is to be okay with being a beggar. And even to be useless at times. Being useless teaches us that we need not pay for God’s love and his presence in our souls. We then grow accustomed to accepting something we don’t deserve and are better able to rejoice in receiving God’s free gift.
Jesus, help me to know your love is not measured by the standard of my fickle usefulness. It is not me, but You in me which makes me holy.
Republished with gracious permission from Dominicana (May 2024).
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The featured image was generated with AI ∙ May 15, 2024 at 9:05 AM.
Although not exactly the same, your essay reminded me of the Medieval tale which has been retold by Anatole France as “The Juggler of Notre Dame”. It also brought to me a sense of humility and thankfulness.
This is the best piece of writing and reflection I’ve read in months. It’s short and to the point and very beautiful. Thank you, Br Gerard Rosario.
This mostly comes from America’s Puritan work ethic. Which is not necessarily bad as long as we keep in mind the words of St. Augustine “our work is temporary, our rest is eternal”
How is it simply the love of God for us that makes us holy, as then, everyone is holy, for everyone is loved by God and to some extent filled with God, as His creatures. What does this say about saints who have lived holy lives? What made them holy except the combination of God’s grace AND their activity? Does their work not count towards this holiness achieved? What does this mean in light of the statement of God who says, “Be ye holy, as I am holy.” If it has nothing to do with us then why that command? Also, another thought is that if there is no work on our part which causes us to grow in holiness, then why any prayers or other effort at all on our part? Why go to church, or why pray, or why give alms if it really doesnt matter in regard to our holiness?