Looking Beyond The Mirror

28th Sunday in Ordinary Time (B)

Readings: Wisdom 7:7-11; Psalm 89 (90):12-17; Hebrews 4:12-13; Mark 10:17-30

Picture: By Jason Tadyanehondo on Unsplash

Oh Lord, it's hard to be humble,

When you're perfect in every way.

I can't wait to look in the mirror,

'Cause I get better lookin' each day.

To know me is to love me.

I must be a hell of a man.

Oh Lord, it's hard to be humble,

But I'm doin' the best that I can!

My dear friends, do these words sound familiar? They’re taken from an old country western song, about a man who’s convinced he’s perfect in every way, but who still can’t help feeling as though something is missing. Something important that, despite all his best efforts, remains stubbornly out of his reach. He calls it being humble. And his own frustrated desire for humility is what gives this hilariously funny song an unmistakeable touch of sadness… To have everything we ever wanted to have, to be everything we ever wanted to be, and to still feel as though something important is missing. Isn’t this the experience of that rich man in today’s gospel? For convenience, let’s call him P.

The reading makes it clear that P is rich not just materially, but also morally. He has kept the commandments from his earliest days. And yet, P still feels as though something important is missing. Something he calls eternal life. Which is why he asks Jesus for advice. And this frustrated desire for a fuller life is also why P goes away sad, when he realises that he’s too attached to his possessions to follow the Lord. Despite his best efforts, eternal life remains out of his reach.

But sadness does not have the final word. For although Jesus acknowledges that it is impossible for the rich to enter the kingdom of God, he also says that everything is possible for God. Which prompts us to look at the gospel with fresh eyes. To see beyond P’s weakness and sadness, and to consider the subtle yet powerful workings of God. First, to recognise that P’s own frustrated desire for a fuller life––his sense that something important is missing––is itself a sign of grace. The same grace that the psalmist prays for when she asks God to (m)ake us know the shortness of our life that we may gain wisdom of heart… In P’s restlessness and frustration lie the beginnings of the same gift that, in the first reading, King Solomon says he received from God. A gift given in response to prayer. I prayed, and understanding was given me; I entreated, and the spirit of Wisdom came to me…

Which helps us to see more clearly just where P goes wrong. For in his interaction with Jesus, P focuses too quickly on the demands that the Lord appears to be making on him. Go and sell everything you own and give the money to the poor, and… then come, follow me. This is what Jesus, the alive and active Word-of-God-Made-Flesh, identifies as the one thing that P lacks. But the reading also tells us that, before pointing out what P lacks, Jesus first looked steadily at him and loved him. In this loving and merciful gaze, is found the power that P needs to do what is required of him. But instead of receiving and basking in that gaze, rather than allowing himself to soak up from it as much spiritual strength as he needs, P focuses only on his own efforts, and his own limitations. As a result, he goes away frustrated and sad.

And yet, even if, at this point in his life, P is unable to follow Jesus, isn’t it reasonable to believe that the Lord’s piercing gaze will keep following him? That it will somehow remain imprinted on his heart, haunting his thoughts and dreams. Much like how the sun keeps shining upon us, even when we fail to notice it’s rays. Isn’t it reasonable to expect that there will come a time when the Lord’s gaze will eventually succeed in catching P’s attention? Drawing him more fully into the warmth of God’s loving embrace. And isn’t this what we ourselves prayed for earlier, in the opening prayer, when we asked that the Lord’s grace might at all times go before us and follow after and make us… carry out good works?

And isn’t this something that we sorely need, we who live in a country that takes such pride in its own improbable success against all odds? Yet, amid the perfection of our many notable achievements, isn’t it true that there are those of us who still can’t help feeling as though something important is missing? And despite our often desperate efforts at numbing or distracting ourselves from it––such as by working too hard, or buying stuff we don’t need, or scrolling endlessly on our phones––doesn’t this feeling continue to haunt us? 

Sisters and brothers, even if it truly is hard to be humble, when we’re perfect in every way, how might our good Lord be calling us to stop looking in the mirror long enough to receive and be strengthened by his loving and liberating gaze today?

Between Fantasy & Horror

27th Sunday in Ordinary Time (B)

Readings: Genesis 2:18-24; Psalm 127 (128); Hebrews 2:9-11; Mark 10:2-16

Picture: By Kevin Wright on Unsplash

My dear friends, which is easier to believe, a fairy tale or a horror story? In a fairy tale, a pretty girl kisses an ugly frog, marries a handsome prince, and then lives happily ever after… In a horror story, the same girl marries a handsome prince, but realises he’s an ugly frog, divorces him, and then dies in a tragic car crash… We need both stories to help us deal with reality. The first teaches us to dream, the second to prepare for disappointment. But doesn’t it seem like it’s getting harder these days to believe in fairy tales? Is there even a place for them in our world anymore? This, I believe, is the question our scriptures help us to ponder today.

At first glance, the readings offer us no more than the usual familiar biblical explanation regarding the origin of marriage, and the unlawfulness of divorce. Both of which are rooted in God’s plan. This is why a man… joins himself to his wife… For God has arranged it such that the man sees in the woman that for which he longs: bone of my bones… flesh from my flesh. And what God has united, man must not divide. But if we are honest, doesn’t reality make all this sound more and more like an implausible fairy tale? Don’t the daily challenges and changing aspirations of life in an ultra-modern city like ours, often leave little time or space, desire or energy to devote to a spouse, let alone to bear and bring up children? And when things go wrong in a marriage, as they so often seem to, isn’t it better to let the parties call it quits in as quick and pain-free a way as possible? And how about those who feel left out, because they want to be with someone of the same sex, or because they don’t identify with the gender they were born into, or with any gender at all?

More than simply making the Christian view of marriage seem implausible, don’t experiences like these tend to call into question the relevance of life-long commitments of all kinds, including the priesthood and religious life? Why tie ourselves down unnecessarily, by making promises we struggle to keep? Instead of clinging to such romantic fairy tales, isn’t it more realistic, simply to live and respond to life’s events as they come? The readings help us ponder such concerns, by proposing five movements for our consideration. The first is the movement from isolation to companionship. It is not good that the man should be alone… God’s desire, in bringing the man and woman together, is to open up the possibility of true companionship between different persons of equal dignity. But for this to happen, there needs to be a willingness to submit to a second movement, from mastery to submission, from self-indulgence to self-sacrifice. So the man allows God to make him fall into a deep sleep, and to use one of his ribs to create the woman. And it’s helpful for us to recall that the early Fathers of the Church saw in this process a foreshadowing of the birth of the Church from the side of Christ, as he slept on the Cross. As the second reading reminds us, Christ submitted to death, so as to become the leader who would take us to salvation.

By submitting to the sleep of death, Christ leads us from the kingdom of this world into the kingdom of God. This is the third movement. More than just the companionship of husband and wife, God’s purpose is to gather all of creation into the universal communion of Christ’s Body. Signified so beautifully in the gospel, by how Jesus embraces the little children, as he lays his hands on them, and blesses them. The blessing of communion, in place of the curse of conflict. This is the fourth movement. This is what God intends for our life on this earth. But in order to receive this gift, we all need to undergo a conversion. In the gospel, Jesus calls the Pharisees unteachable, a word that can also be translated as hardness of heart. And Jesus also says that anyone who does not welcome the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it. From the Pharisees’ hardness of heart to the openness of little children. This is the fifth movement.

From isolation to companionship… From self-indulgence to self-sacrifice… From the kingdom of this world to the kingdom of God… From curse to blessing… From hardness to openness of heart… These are the life-giving movements we need to believe in… Which bring to mind these words from the 2003 movie, Secondhand Lions: Sometimes the things that may or may not be true are the things a (person) needs to believe in the most: that people are basically good; that honour, courage, and virtue mean everything; that… money and power mean nothing; that good always triumphs over evil; and… that love... true love never dies…. Doesn't matter if it's true or not… a (person) should believe in those things, because those are the things worth believing in…

Sisters and brothers, how is God offering us the courage to believe ever more deeply, and to invest our lives ever more fully, in the fairy tales of our faith today?