Handcuffed? - Sunday's reading reflection

The Gospel reading we have today from Matthew begins with what seems to be a bit of theological throat-clearing, but actually leads us into the heart of God’s mysterious, self-emptying love for us. We read in Matthew that John protests that he should not be one to baptize Jesus, “I am not worthy to untie the thongs of his sandals,” he says, “you should be baptizing me.” And it is true. Even more, we might rightly wonder why the sinless Jesus even needs to receive John’s baptism, a baptism of repentance.  “What does Jesus have to repent for?” we rightly ask. Matthew’s answer (and our Church’s as well) is that Jesus has nothing to repent for, nothing to wash away. So why be baptized at all then? And why by John?

In order to answer this question the great theologians of the Church remind us of what we call the whole of the paschal mystery, that is, they remind us that Jesus’ Incarnation, life, death and resurrection are of one piece, one whole movement of the divine mystery into the fragility and finitude of humanity so that we might be joined fully to God’s divinity. These theologians point out that Jesus’ baptism is a particular part of this whole, a kind of double submission, another example of the creator of the universe emptying himself to take the form of a servant, that is, our human form. The first of the two submissions is Jesus’ submission to John, the one who was sent to prepare his way. And the second submission is his acceptance of not just our human flesh (as in the Incarnation), but of our very neediness, our existential thirst for repentance and forgiveness and acceptance. In this way, these theologians read the baptism as another sign of God being Emmanuel, with us fully and completely – this time fully with us even in our need for conversion. As a part of the whole paschal mystery then, the baptism that we hear in the Gospel today is another way that the creator of the universe says to us: “To be with you I give everything. I give all to you, all my divinity, everything. Nothing will keep you from me.”

The question we are faced with today, then, as we stand in the doorway between the season of the Incarnation and the Ordinary season of Jesus’ active ministry, is the same question we are always faced with: will we accept the self-Gift of such a humble God? 

When I am honest, my own answer is both yes and no. The excitement, the yes, comes because accepting God really means accepting that the words spoken to Jesus today are spoken to us: we are God’s beloved children, with whom He is well pleased. This is who we are at root, beloved children.

The reluctance, the no, might come from anyplace beyond that doorway. We might hesitate in the doorway of acceptance because we know who we’ve been in the past, we know those gifts and flaws. But the future? We don’t know that version of ourselves yet. Or we might hesitate because we don’t know whether the gifts we’ve been given during the holidays/holy days will carry over into the rest of our lives. Or we might hesitate because we’re not sure we can trust the voice that calls us beloved, not yet. Or we might trust that voice, but still be afraid because we know where such love leads, to the cross. 

Whatever it is that handcuffs our hearts, it’s okay. Not okay to stay constrained, but okay to bring our hesitation to a God who gives up all, over and over again, to be who God is: Emmanuel, fully with us, even with us in our existential thirst, our neediness. God asks us – and never tires of asking – to accept His self gift: “Accept me, accept me, accept me.” But he does not force us. Our is not a God who will force us to be beloved.

And this for one reason: because God knows what it is to be fragile and finite. Because ours is the kind of God willing to be baptized into our very neediness. It’s because of this that we can trust Him not to break us, bruised reeds that we are. 

It’s because He is with us this fully that we can trust Him not to push us out the door of Christmas season too quickly, but instead to give us today to stand on the threshold and look out into the world of ordinary time. It’s because we are the sons and daughters of this kind of God that, this Sunday, it’s okay for us to be both ready and not ready, divided, both in and out; to stand in the doorway that leads to the rest of our lives and feel both the fear and the excitement of walking in the ordinary world with a such a God.

(Adapted from Paddy Gilger, S.J.)

Misery meets compassion - Tomorrow's reading reflection

Do you seek the Lord Jesus with expectant faith? No one who sought Jesus out was refused his help. Even the untouchables and the outcasts of Jewish society found help in him. Unlike the people of Jesus' time who fled at the sight of a leper, Jesus touched the leper who approached him and he made him whole and clean. Why was this so remarkable? Lepers were outcasts of society. They were driven from their homes and communities and left to fend for themselves. Their physical condition was terrible as they slowly lost the use of their limbs and withered away. They were not only shunned but regarded as "already dead" even by their relatives. The Jewish law forbade anyone from touching or approaching a leper, lest ritual defilement occur.

This leper did something quite remarkable. He approached Jesus confidently and humbly, expecting that Jesus could and would heal him. Normally a leper would be stoned or at least warded off if he tried to come near a rabbi. Jesus not only grants the man his request, but he demonstrates the personal love, compassion, and tenderness of God in his physical touch. The medical knowledge of his day would have regarded such contact as grave risk for incurring infection. Jesus met the man's misery with compassion and tender kindness. He communicated the love and mercy of God in a sign that spoke more eloquently than words. He touched the man and made him clean – not only physically but spiritually as well.

How do you approach those who are difficult to love, or who are shunned by others because they are deformed or have some physical or mental weakness? Do you show them kindness and offer them mercy and help as Jesus did? The Lord is always ready to show us his mercy and to free us from whatever makes us unclean, unapproachable, or unloving towards others.

(Adapted from Don Schwager)

Life's ups and downs - Tomorrow's reading reflection

Voyagers: Life can be viewed as journey (Pilgrim’s progress; Exodus; Odyssey), or still better as voyage (because driven by forces more powerful than ourselves, like wind and wave.) We sail upon a rippling surface of events, feeling the joy of movement, being alive and going somewhere. When things go well, we feel the contentment of those experienced sailors, the apostles on their way home across the quiet lake of Galilee.

Staying afloat: A gale blew up, changing their mood. Danger and fear of drowning. Our own life-voyage has its share of storms too, anxieties, problems and pressures of various kinds. How often a sudden turn of events can rob us of inner peace. Are we on a charted course, or just drifting along without any determined direction? Many find it hard enough to stay afloat, pressurized by the bewilderingly changing times, ill-at-ease in their relationships with others, discontented and insecure in themselves. That’s exactly what the frightened apostles in the storm mean for us today: we are those sailors, tossing about in the waves.

Finding remedies: Many prescriptions are suggested, to ease the upsets of our voyage. Like different brands of medication for sea-sickness! A long quiet rest, a change of occupation, psychiatric help or counselling, a course of Yoga or Transcendental Meditation, Contemplative or Charismatic Prayer. Doubtless, every remedy has its own advantages, but what better support can be found in times of stress than an understanding friend? Today’s gospel suggests that our first and most constant recourse should be to none other than, Christ himself.

A hidden presence: God is present where we least expect him, although it is a hidden, unseen presence, not always easy to discover. It takes faith nearer than the door.” So the apostles were amazed to see Christ coming to them in the middle of the storm, for (at that stage) they were men of little faith. Elijah, that lonely refugee, faithful to his God despite cruel persecution by Jezebel, discovered the mysterious presence of God in the still, small voice of his own soul. Standing at the mouth of a cave, on the slopes of the holy mountain, he got strength and comfort from the Living God. Where God is, there is peace. But his presence is everywhere, for those who learn to discern it.

Safely into harbor: We do not expect to be immune from the hardships and problems faced by all the other voyagers through this life. Indeed, Christ himself shared fully in all of these anxieties, being tested as we are. If the Church be seen as a boat (in which there are no idle passengers, but all are needed to row!), then we have as destination the safe harbor of eternal life. With the compass of faith, and Christ himself as unseen captain of the ship, that harbor will surely be reached. In the meantime, though tossed about by circumstances, he tells us: “Courage! Do not be afraid, men of little faith!’"

(Adapated from ACP)

Calming fears - Tomorrow's reading reflection

Do you ever feel tested or let down by the Lord? Right after Jesus performed the miracle of the multiplication of the loaves and fishes, he left his disciples by themselves so he could go away and pray alone for a while.  It was at Jesus' initiative that the disciples set sail across the lake, only to find themselves in a life-threatening storm. Although they were experienced fishermen, they feared for their lives. The Lake of Galilee was known for its sudden storms which sank many boats because of its fierce winds which swept down from the nearby mountains. The disciples must have called out for their Master to come and rescue them.  Although Jesus was not with them in the boat, he, nonetheless watched for them in earnest prayer. When he perceived their trouble and heard their cries, he came out to them walking on the troubled waters.  The disciples were terrified rather than joyful when they saw Jesus' presence on the water.  They couldn't believe it was really him until he spoke words of assurance:  "Dont give in to fear or panic, but take courage and be calm, because I am here for you and ready to help you in your need."  Jesus not only calmed their fears, but the threatening waves and storm as well.

Does the Lord seem distant when trials and difficulties come your way?  The Lord nevers leaves us alone, but keeps constant watch over us at all times, especially when we are tempted and feel weak or helpless.  Do you look to the Lord to give you his strength and help when you are in need?  Jesus assures us that we do not have to give into fear or discouragement if we put our trust in Him and remember his great love for us.  He will see us through any trial that comes our way. When calamities and trials threaten to overwhelm you, do you respond with faith and hope in God's loving care and presence with you?

(Adapted from Don Schwager)

In the beginning was self-giving - Tomorrow's reading reflection

“. . . for God is love.”

Every time I read this passage – and others like it – I have to keep reminding myself that the word we have translated “love” doesn’t exactly mean affection or liking, at least in the ordinary sense in which we use those terms. It is better translated as “self-giving”. “For God is self-giving” is how verse 8 should perhaps read. More than affection, self-giving means caring deeply about someone. How deeply? Enough, in this case, for God to send God’s Son “into the world so we may have life . . .” Jesus came bringing – and giving – not just any life, but amazingly, God’s life – the ultimate in self-giving. And not just God’s life in the person, Jesus, but God’s life as a gift to human beings, a gift by which we can live.

For many of us it is too much to believe. We can accept that we’re supposed to be holy. But to live with God’s own holiness. Too much!

Adam and Eve, in the creation story, aspired to immortality. That’s what being “like Gods” meant (as the snake told Eve would happen if she ate). Their reaching for what was God’s alone to give is what constitutes the fall. Eternal life is gift – pure gift – gift we are invited to accept, but cannot snatch (Phil 2:6), just as we are invited to the royal banquet (Luke 14:15–24) – an invitation we can accept or reject but cannot demand. 

That self-giving of God underlies everything else in the Bible and in Christianity. The late Andrew Greeley, in his book The Sinai Myth, stressed, for example, that the Ten Commandments were not rules by which the Hebrews would earn God’s favor, but instead were a description of how a people sharing God’s life would appropriately behave. After all, if you’re sharing God’s life you can’t go around lying, cheating, stealing, coveting, and so forth. But the rules don’t come first. It’s God’s self-giving that comes first. 

It’s sobering to reflect that the exalted, inspiring rhetoric of this first letter of John was composed in a situation of dissension and conflict. The Johannine community had splintered into factions fighting one another. The author stresses what ought to have been obvious (to us as much as to them). Dissension is not of God. Do we encounter similar divisions today? Are we paying attention? This is not to suggest that differences are unimportant or that all views are equally valid. But it is to stress that what is primary is God’s self-giving love and the life of God that Christ has given us. Once we lose sight of that, then splintering and factions take over. 

The author of 1 John, in a few verses preceding today’s reading, stresses that we are to manifest that love – that self-giving – not “in word or speech but in deed and in truth”. (1 Jn 3:18). We’re past Christmas and into “Ordinary” time. Deed and truth should be the “ordinary” feature of our “ordinary” lives.

(Adapted from Robert P. Heaney)