Rest a while

The departure lounge at a transport hub—be it an airport, a bus, or a train station—is a place of mixed emotions.

A person(s) is leaving. Persons have come to say goodbye however they are staying.

Each goodbye is particular and indeed peculiar to everyone.

I can only name emotions that I have personally experienced; for others, the emotions may well be quite different.

As the one going, I feel a mixture of sadness at leaving those who are important and special, anticipation for what lies ahead, and no doubt a certain anxiety—where I had known friends as immediate contact and support, I might well be on my own.

As the one staying, I experience an equal mix of emotions.

There is pleasure for the one leaving—perhaps stepping out for the first time to a new place of learning or job opportunity, and there is also sadness that the one leaving will leave a hole—and it is to that hole I must return to and be reminded of with regularity.

The regular aroma of a particular scent or aftershave is no longer there!

The irrepressible laugh or chuckle of the other is no longer heard.

Toward the end of the Gospel of John, I find one of the most intimate moments in the entire Gospel. Jesus, newly risen from the dead, is standing on the shore of the lake,

“Early in the morning, Jesus stood on the shore, but the disciples did not realise it was Jesus.

He called to them, “Friends, have you any fish?”

“No,” they answered.

He said, “Throw your net on the right side of the boat, and you will find some.”

When they did, they could not haul the net in because of the large number of fish. (Jn. 21:4 – 6).

It is that early morning call, piercing the approaching light, “Friends!”

On the feast of the Ascension, I suggest that before we run headlong into any theological discourse on the role of proclaiming the Good News (Mk. 15:15), we take a moment to reflect on the very real experience of friends saying goodbye.

These persons are as we are with all the mix of emotions that make us human.

Remember, too, one of those persons Jesus needs say goodbye to is his mother.

 

“As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love. ‘This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. (Jn 15:9 – 17)

How can you be commanded to love? Surely love must be a free response, not an obligation. You can be commanded to obey, but how can you be commanded to love? How could Jesus say, “This is my commandment, that you love one another?”

Meister Eckhart (1260 -1328) threw a clear light on this conundrum. He said, “When I am thirsty, the drink commands me; when I am hungry, the food commands me. And God does the same [when he commands me to love].”

In other words, the command to love is not a command that is laid on us from the outside; rather, it is an inner command, an inner urgency placed in our very being by God – like hunger and thirst; or, you might say, like the urgency that an oak tree has to develop as an oak tree. It is not something alien, it is totally our own, and yet it is totally from God.

Jesus’ command to love contains a critical subordinate clause, “as I have loved you!” What was unique in the way Jesus loved?

No one was excluded: prostitutes, sinners, tax collectors all found a place of welcome at the table. Those with a physical and/or psychological ailment were touched. Those possessed in some way were touched as they were possessed.

Where Jesus stretches us beyond our natural instincts and beyond all self-delusion is in his command to love our enemies, to be warm to those who are cold to us, to be kind to those who are cruel to us, to do good to those who hate us, to excuse those who hurt us, to forgive those who won’t forgive us, and to ultimately love and forgive those who are trying to kill us.

That command, love and forgive your enemies, more than any creedal formula or other moral issue, is the litmus-test for Christian discipleship. We can ardently believe in and defend every item in the creed and fight passionately for justice in all its dimensions, but the real test of whether we are followers of Jesus is the capacity or non-capacity to forgive an enemy, to remain warm and loving towards someone who is not warm and loving to us.

For many, unfortunately, the law to love has become the love of laws!

Jesus said, “I am the true vine, and my Father is the vine-grower. He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Every branch that bears fruit he prunes to make it bear more fruit ( Jn 15: 1 -2)

Having lived surrounded by a vineyard for seven years, I have some understanding of the rhythm of the vine.

When the vine is most beautiful, it is most vulnerable!

Having produced its summer crop of fruit and with a cool change in the autumn climes, the luxuriant green leaves begin to change colour.

The vines change to a multi-coloured vista of reds, browns, burnt orange, and yellow.

The nuisance is that this change in colour says spectacularly, “I am dying.”

Death is so beautifully colourful!

 

The sharp blade of the pruning shears hurries this death.

And what is cut is determined by another!

The reality that I have borne plentiful fruit this season does not mean I will spared from the pruning shear!

The vine gains nurture and nourishment from the soil, filling its berries to ripeness and fullness, only to be cut once. It then spends time colouring itself in the warmth of autumn hues, only to be cut again.

And quite possibly thrown away.

It is just not fair.

Sheep and shepherds feature as a strong metaphor in our Readings for this Sunday.

I recall a time when I was studying in the US and was present at a Sunday Mass in the Diocese of Trenton, NJ.

As luck would have it, the Gospel of the day was the gospel we proclaim today (John 10: 1 – 10).

The homilist was a Scripture scholar from the diocesan seminary. It is a homily I have never forgotten. He began his homily with these words:

“There’s was a practice among shepherds in Israel that existed at the time of Jesus and is still in use, in parts today, that needs to be understood in order to appreciate what Jesus says about himself as the Good Shepherd.

“Sometimes very early on in the life of a lamb, if a shepherd sensed that this particular lamb is going to be a congenital stray and forever be drifting away from the flock, he deliberately breaks its leg so that he, the shepherd has to carry the lamb until its leg is healed.

“By that time, the lamb becomes so attached to the shepherd that it never strays again!”

I have no means of verifying the validity of the shepherd’s practice, however it got me reflecting; maybe there is a deliberately “broken bit” in me that is my conduit into a relationship/attachment with Jesus.

When I reflect on the Gospel stories, I notice the broken people come to Jesus ‘in their brokenness’, and leave healed.

I, through my silly theology, have desperately tried to hide away this “broken bit” to present an acceptable and pleasing face to Jesus.

Will I let Jesus carry me until I am healed?

Today is the World Day of Prayer for Vocations.

For many, this day of prayer encourages prayer for more people to enter religious life and/or priesthood.

“If we pray more and with greater earnestness more will ‘enter’”.

Vocations has never been a numbers game, rather it is a question of attentive listening.

One of the facts that people seem to dismiss from the equation is quite simply, “There are fewer persons to hear the call!”

The average number of people per New Zealand household is 2.7 people, which has remained unchanged since 2006.

I invite you to enlarge the possibility of those for whom we pray.

Let us pray for a listening ear and a generous heart for women and men throughout our world, attentive to the vocational call of the Good Shepherd – a call to the single life, to a life lived in the commitment of married love, to a life lived through the vocation of religious life, to a life lived through the vocation of the ministerial priesthood.

Each of these vocations is of equal value.

One is not more efficacious than the other.

Let each of us hear again the foundational call of Christian women and men through the baptismal grace that names us daughters and sons of God.

Also, have you seen a shepherd work a flock without dogs? Dogs are pretty much essential to a shepherd’s work. It might be advantageous this Vocations Week to pray for sheepdogs as earnestly as we pray for shepherds.