Twenty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time, August 25, 2024
(click here to listen to or read today’s scriptures)
The gift of following
Many of Jesus’ disciples returned to their former way of life and no longer accompanied him.
In 1978 I read this and wondered, “Is this what I’m coming to?” Rev. Moon called his followers to become his disciples and follow him for the rest of their lives. But I had just hitchhiked away from Rev. Moon’s seminary in Barrytown, New York and was not coming back. My reasons were personal, non-theological, and inadequate. But I stayed gone.
Now almost fifty years later I don’t ask that old question anymore, but I do wonder how much damage this betrayal did, my forsaking the one who called himself the Third Adam who followed in Jesus’ footsteps, demanding the same allegiance from those who followed him … I do wonder about how this might have seared my conscience. And I realize the wondering will not cease until God and I talk about it together, for as long as it takes.
Your words, Lord, are Spirit and truth; you have the words of everlasting life.
And those words for me must come in moments of fear, moments of pain, moments when I can’t turn away to anything sweet or seductive, especially to my own words that sound good but only for a little while.
For years I have prayed the Lord’s Prayer aloud in the morning before and as I get up for the morning. But lately I don’t keep my mind on the words for more than a phrase or two. I try switching my mantra-like prayers around, from the Jesus Prayer to the Doxology to the Rosary to the Glory-Be, and back to the Our Father.
I love all the words. I love the God who gave us these words to accompany our ascent as we climb our life-ladders, one step at a time. I am sure my ladder is on the right wall. But still my mind flits and flies away.
And I see other searings, like a deep selfishness that prevents open-hearted giving. I hang onto pennies in all the wrong ways. Margaret often rescues me from this scrooginess, and I am so grateful. But in the silences of my own solitude, I do not give myself freely away to the One who made me, to the One who will take me home. Consequently I become anxious and worry about the car, or about our health, or our money, or how we spend our time together, or how we spend our time with others. And in this jungle of anxiety I can’t even see which weed to cut next to clear the path.
This is not the final frame of the moving picture which began on November 17, 1949. The jungle sounds do not haunt me most of the time. But I am tired of their rhythms and their echoes, even when they’re far away.
In How to Stop Worrying and Start Living, Dale Carnegie wrote how he learned to build “day-tight” compartments to contain his troubles and keep them from drowning him, just as a ship prevents flooding with waterproof compartments.
Jesus said today has enough trouble of its own. Do not worry about tomorrow. I know this is true, and I know it takes practice. Lots of wrong notes along the way.
Jesus didn’t say we couldn’t practice.
Henri Nouwen said we cannot make headway against our worries from the outside in. Of course he is right:
I know how great a temptation it is in times of anguish and agony to look away from our painful center and expect peace and a sense of inner wholeness to come from some external source. But I am increasingly convinced that, at times of anguish and agony, we have to choose a contained life where we can be in the presence of people who hold us safe and bring us in touch with the unconditional affective love of God. Do not get involved in experiences of living that will lead to dissipation. What is so important is to have a deep sense of inner safety, of being held by a love that is in no way using you, manipulating you, or “needing” you.
In the troubles and worries:
- Do not look away from my pain. Avoid experiences that lead to dissipation (where I scatter myself to the winds and still have to come back afterward to the same old room).
- Instead find and live a contained life with people who hold me safe and bring both of us into touch with the unconditional love of God, a Love that is in no way using me, manipulating me or “needing” me.
Many are the troubles of the just one, but out of them all the Lord delivers me – he watches over all those bones, and not one of them shall be broken.
(Joshua 24, Psalm 34, Ephesians 5, John 6)
(posted at www.davesandel.net)
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