Where Does Your Heart Rest?
Idolatry has been on my mind of late—specifically, my own practice of it.
I should probably clarify that statement. To be sure, I am not burning incense to Zeus, nor have I adorned the rectory with statues of Baal or Astarte or any other deity belonging to the various pantheons of ancient religions. (Admittedly, there are a handful of Spider-Man figurines scattered about the place, but I have not taken to bowing down to them regularly—or at all, in fact.) Yet, while I think I can safely say I am not guilty of overt idolatry, I am all too aware that all too often my heart does not belong entirely to the one true God. Other concerns or preoccupations nudge the Lord out of the central place he ought to hold in my heart. And I become especially aware of what could thus be called “covert idolatry” when I engage in prayer.
The Catechism of the Catholic Church elegantly expresses how the experience of prayer can serve as a gauge of our heart’s dedication to God: “When we begin to pray, a thousand labors or cares thought to be urgent vie for priority; once again, it is the moment of truth for the heart: what is its real love?” (2732). I readily admit that when I sit down to offer an hour of the Liturgy of the Hours, for example, it is not long before I find myself fretting about a meeting scheduled for later in the day, or a homily that needs preparing, or perhaps even a bulletin article that needs composing! Meanwhile, there in the midst of the words and the movement of the prayer of the Church, the Lord is present to enrich me, if I could but make myself present to him in turn and allow him truly to be the center of my heart. Happily, at least sometimes I do catch myself as my mind veers away, and I recognize the master gently and calmly summoning me back to the only one who deserves to be ruler of my heart, as only he can give rest to it.
More than once in the Scriptures, God is described as “jealous” (e.g., Ex 20:5, 34:14). On the one hand, this descriptor might seem a bit odd: after all, God is supremely perfect, and thus, we might wonder what could arouse jealousy in him. We mere mortals usually get jealous when we see something we lack but we want; we sense that obtaining this object will somehow enhance the quality of our lives. As supremely blessed in himself, God cannot fall prey to this type of jealousy. Rather, God is jealous on our behalf and for our sake, not for his. God knows that when we chase after idols, we are the ones who are diminished; we fall prey to anxiety, worry, fear, and fretfulness as we try to satisfy the demands of modern-day deities such as the pursuit of pleasure, success, accomplishment, financial well-being, and a whole host of others. And meanwhile, the Lord invites us to recognize he alone can give us that peace and satisfaction for which we long, and thus that he alone deserves the central place in our hearts.
As we enter into these final two weeks of Lent, we ask the Lord to continue the purifying work he has already begun in us. We ask him to reveal to us our own idols, not as an exercise of self-castigation, but as an opportunity to find that healing and fullness of life which only he can provide.
