A pilgrim's reflection: unpicking our scribe logic

 "It is through the prince of devils that he casts out devils." (Mark 3: 22)

In today's gospel we see the gulf between the wisdom of men and the wisdom of Christ. The scribes came down from Jerusalem to see for themselves what Jesus was doing, and instantly, and no doubt confidently, declared him possessed by the devil. Well, They must know, the people might have said. That's the end of that. Someone in the crowd or a disciple reports this to Jesus and, perhaps to the scribes' amazement, he calls them to him. What follows in this gospel scene is something that happens in our lives - or at least should happen - every day: Jesus dismantles their logic to replace it with his wisdom. After all, we resemble the scribes rather more than we would like to admit. 

Scribes' logic infiltrates its way into our thinking every day, if we are not careful. It lurks in every all-too-human calculation that we blunder into: about God, about others or about ourselves. When it is well below our consciousness, it probably comes from our existing wounds and hurts, the kinds of things that shape our lives often without our realising it. When, however, our hearts are too attached to something or someone, then, our "scribes' logic" can become even more self serving and complicated, reaching out to justify our behaviour to ourselves: resentment against someone, fear or human respect, some ambition we hardly admit. It is all part and parcel of being a fallen human being in need of redemption and cure; it marks the lives of the saints, as well as the lives of great sinners. In every thought and action that does not belong to God, we unwittingly build a house of cards that aims to prove us right, just like the scribes justifying their hostility to Jesus by claiming he had a devil. 

This is precisely where they need Jesus to unpick their scribes' thinking and to cure the damage. In this gospel scene, Jesus easily knocks down their tottering logic: why, he asks in essence, would Satan banish the chaos he had established? But curing the wounds that led to this poor logic is trickier. In the case of the scribes in fact, Jesus resorts to a warning about sinning against the Holy Spirit. We can read into this his judgment on them that they should have known better; that they were in fact ignoring their excellent knowledge of the Law and Prophets which pointed firmly towards Jesus as the Messiah. God forbid we should hear such a reproach from Jesus - you should have known better - but sometimes don't we need to?

How does Jesus cure us of our scribe's logic? Well, he loves us all individually and treats us as individuals too. The cure will always be tailor-made, just for us! This is one of the reasons we have to read the gospels every day: to open our own hearts and minds to his healing touch so grace can illuminate the circumstances known to God and us alone. That is the formation the Father offers us in the joys and sorrows of every day. By saying our fiat to such joys and sorrows, by saying yes and thank you with Mary our Mother, we are allowing the Blessed Trinity to reshape us, to heal us; ultimately to make us more in the image of Jesus. 

Jesus, destroy the scribe's logic in my heart, and replace it with the wisdom of your love to make my heart like yours.

A pilgrim's reflection: God's nickname and God's dream name for us

 "He named them Boanerges, which is the Sons of Thunder" (Mark 3: 17)

Today's gospel contains something we do not often talk about - something which Chesterton says the Lord often kept carefully hidden: His mirth, his sense of fun. Some medieval theologians used to say that Jesus never laughed because it was impossible to surprise Him, but I wonder if this is a mistake about why we laugh. After all, if we laugh while we tickle our children's tummies, it is not because we are surprised. If we cannot keep a smile off our face, it is not because we did not know the old joke a friend just told. Surely we smile and laugh for pleasure as much as surprise, and if we know two things about Jesus, the first is that he did not stint on His pleasures when they were available (that was why His disciples feasted with the bridegroom!). The second is that He was also a perfect aesthete and spent many nights in prayer, fasting and keeping sleepless vigils like an Old Testament prophet when the occasion arose. But I digress. Today's gospel, as I say, is full of His mirth, as St Mark records not only the names of the Apostles but also the nicknames he gave to Simon and to James and John. And the difference between these names says something beautiful to me about how Jesus regards us. 

James and John he nicknames the Sons of Thunder. He gave them this name when they suggested calling down fire and brimstone on a village where Jesus had been poorly received. Jesus' response was instantly to poke fun at what seems like an allusion to Elijah battling the impious prophets of Baal. They had not yet learned Jesus' new commandment. Still, it is a significant moment. Jesus, who often reproaches his disciples - could you not watch one hour with me? - now gently teases. James and John's problem is simple: they do not know how ridiculous they are being. They lack self knowledge. They thought they were cutting fine figures as assistants to the Messiah. They were in fact well behind the game plan. Were they indignant, I wonder, when they heard the name? Did they mind Jesus poking fun? 

What nickname does Jesus have to poke fun at me? What weakness in me would that nickname signify? What fault lies just outside my awareness and needs to be brought into my knowledge?When God allows us to endure some humiliation, is He not then offering us a chance to learn that, as young people say these days, we are not all that? Jesus, teach me your nickname for me, and help me to know myself, that I might fall ever more in love with you.

Yet on this latter point, the nickname alone does not suffice. On the other side of the coin of His mirth is Jesus' earnestness. Peter's name is not a joke, although given his record later on Simon might often have wondered if it was. From a personal point of view, Simon's nickname Peter - the Rock - was actually what in COLW language we call 'God's dream' for Simon the Fisherman. And, in so far as Simon Peter here represents any ordinary disciple of Jesus (which in other ways he was not!), it seems to me that this name - God's dream name for us -  is not so much about bringing us to knowledge of who we currently are. Rather it is about bringing us to knowledge of who He calls us to be. 

How then do we live up to this dream name that Jesus has for us? Surely, we live up to it by returning love for love received, as we read in Chapter 5 of the Book of Life on vocation. Whatever our own special vocation is, the general Christian vocation is always shaped by the reciprocation of love for the eternal love God has shown to us - the love that He serves us daily, as He served wine at Cana. 

So, Jesus, teach me not only your nickname for me, so that I might know myself better; teach me also your dream name for me, so that I might become what you intend me to become. And Mary, teach me to say yes to the nickname and the dream name that Jesus has for me every moment of my life.

A pilgrim's reflection: wine, "woman" and song

 "They have no wine" (John 2:3)

I have been thinking since the weekend about Sunday's gospel on the wedding feast of Cana. It is one of the few times we hear of Our Lady being present in the adult life of Jesus, and certainly the most dialogue that we get from her. And what dialogue! 

What does she mean when she turns to Jesus and says, They have no wine"? The plain meaning is that the wedding guests had drunk the feast dry of course. Yet Our Lord's reply, however, suggests another level of meaning, understood by both of them: Woman, why turn to me? My hour has not yet come. Woman, as we know, is a little like the French expression 'Madame'; it is a title of honour. But what about My hour has not yet come? Clearly, He is not talking about the wine, as she appeared to be. But when we read the next verse, we understand that she knew perfectly what He meant: The mother said to the servants, "Do whatever He tells you." Mary and Jesus move thereby between different levels of meaning in their own conversation. It is in fact a moment of intimate exchange for them and insight for us. This is what happens when a saint's heart (Mary's) is so deeply fused to God's will (her Son's) that the communion between them tells its own tale.

We owe this gospel anecdote to the observant St John who was present at the wedding feast. Marvellously, he was close enough to hear this dialogue, or one of the interlocutors repeated it to him later on. Many years ago someone of my acquaintance used to say mischievously that this scene was all about wine, women and song! Let me see, however, if I can remember why. 

Wine - because its meaning in this scene is both about our physical and spiritual needs. The wedding hosts physically lacked wine, and Mary was kind enough to notice their embarrassment. What then is the spiritual meaning of wine? We can only grasp that when we note the meaning of Jesus' 'hour': the appointed hour of His sufferings, the hour he remarks upon on the night of Holy Thursday, the hour of darkness but also the hour of redemption. If what the wedding guests lack is what Jesus can obtain in His hour, then the spiritual meaning of the wine is grace and salvation; its meaning is the work of love and the fruit of love, for God so loved the world.... 

The COLW prayer after Holy Communion turns this fusion of wine and eternal love into an act of love returned: 

May COLW be a little grapevine in your pure hands to quench the thirst of Jesus

In this image Mary helps us return the eternal love (shown to us by God) into a love that returns to God. It is symbolized in this prayer by the fruit of the vine which itself will be taken by Jesus at the Last Supper to become the sacramental sign of His precious blood. 

Woman - because grace, salvation and love - as well as the wine! - are secured when Mary tells the servants at the feast: Do whatever He tells you.  I wonder if these are about the only words Mary ever addresses to any servant of Christ. As we would say these days: Just do it! Or to put it another way: fiat - let it be so.  When we utter the summary of the COLW charism Mary teach us always to say yes to the Lord we are in effect saying: Mary, take us always to Cana to serve the Lord. To which she no doubt replies: Do whatever He tells you. If you have not done so already, do read Sioster Catherine's essay on Mary in the Carmelite tradition via this link.

Song - admittedly there is no song explicitly  mentioned in this gospel. The only recorded time in the gospel that Jesus sang is on Holy Thursday when He and the disciplines walked from the Upper Room to Gesthemane. And yet I can only imagine this scene being full of song. It's a Jewish wedding after all! But not only that. Song is one of the age old human expressions of celebration: it is a sign of deep joy. It is also - and let's be plain about this - one of the notable signs that people have been drinking. Nobody who hears singing late at night in the street would think that the singers had just been downing lemonade or Earl Grey tea. Is it irreverent to think of Jesus facilitating a boozy wedding feast? No doubt some would think it is. Yet Providence could easily have arranged for it to be the food, not the wine, that failed in Cana, and Jesus could have rustled up a magnificent feast, as He does later in the gospel. 

Here again, however, we should reflect on the spiritual meaning of this beautiful episode. Jesus provides the wine - the love, the grace, the salvation - and we can only imagine the rousing choruses that broke out when that excellent wine was shared around. The wine - the love, the grace, the salvation - produces its effects in the hearts of the guests, and filled now with joy, the guests could only have responded accordingly. In the Gregorian chant setting of the Communion verse of this day - which uses the steward's words to the bridegroom: You have kept the best wine till now -  the music leaps around when the steward speaks, as if he too is already showing the inebriating effects of the excellent wine. Is this not because - as Josef Pieper so excellently observed (echoing the Fathers of the Church) - only the lover sings? 

The conclusion, therefore, is simple. If we wish, like the disciples, to be taken to the eternal banquet, we had best look like we have a taste for wine (love and salvation), "woman" (Mary's obedience) and song (the return of love for love received). Indeed, we should indulge as frequently as we can!

PS The acquaintance who inspired this reflection lost his way very badly; I can only surmise it was because he did not follow his own advice about wine, woman and song. Please pray for Ben. 

...a pilgrim's prayer journal...

"And at once they left their nets and followed him"

Mark 1:14-20

However, that wasn't the end of their days or nights of fishing.  They didn't leave those boats and hang up their nets on a hook to grow dry, cracked and useless.  Many other times in the Gospels, Peter and Andrew, James and John, were to be found out on the water fishing, sometimes even with Jesus in the boat with them.  It seems that many a night especially, they were out on the water, waiting for their nets to fill with fish.  The fishers of men contiued to be fishers of fish, at least while Jesus was still with them in person, before His ascension.  They had grown up fishing, it was what they knew and the sea would have been dep in their hearts.

When Jesus says to us today, "The times has come ... repent and believe the Good News ... follow me..." He is unlikely to be asking us to shake everything up, walk out of the house and abandon all our responsibilities.  Neither is He asking us to chenge who we are deep within.  Whatever we have grown up with, our deepest desires, interests, talents and passions - all make us who we are.  Just as the sons of Zebedee were sons of a fisherman, seafarers through and through, Jesus knows our hearts and what makes us who we are.

For those brand new disciples, the first of the twelve, Jesus offered an invitation to become His followers.  John the baptist had just been arrested and his followers were scattering or were joining Jesus instead.  These new young men were being invited to live in the Divine Will, to open their hearts to a new way of thinking, living and being - they were being invited into the Kingdom of Heaven, which Jesus told them was 'close at hand'.  They would change within, grow and learn the lessons of their lives over the next three years. 

Think of how someone like John, the young disciple, so beloved of the Lord, had grown in courage and deep understanding of the Kingdom Jesus preached about.  Think of how Jesus built on John's naturally loving heart and turned him into the Apostle of Love.

Yet the fishermen would remain findamentally the same.  They'd still be fishermen.  After the resurrection they'd still be eating fish with Jesus at the water's edge, at home on the sand, happy on the water, calmed by the cooling sea breeze.  Their association with Jesus didn't make them rich, powerful or immune from the oppressive Roman laws. Nor did they develop skills that transformed their earthly existence a great deal on a human level.  Indeed, by the time of the resurrecton they were on the run from the law.

When Jesus says, 'don't be afraid' to step out and say our 'yes' to the Divine Will, He means it.  When Jesus asks us, everyday, 'Follow me', He is offering us an invitation to go on a journey within of a lifetime!  He won't be asking us to bend outselves into a different mould or to try to be an inauthentic version of ourselves.  He loves us as we are and only wants us to become more and more us through His healing, transformative love.  However, we will still need to put the bins out.  Our daily reality is still with us but this can also be transformed when we know that we can do all the little duties with great love and that what we're doing is His will fo us today.

Let's leave our nets and follow Him today, trusting that, over time we will grow more into the men and women we are to become, as the disciples did, even through the seemingly unremarkable details of our days.

A Pilgrim's Reflection: endless epiphanies

We have been taking a break from blogging over Christmas but are now back in harness for the coming term!

"You are my Son, the Beloved; my favour rests on you" (Luke 3: 21)

Today's feast of the Baptism of the Lord seems like a surprise after Thursday's feast of the Epiphany. Two days ago, Jesus was a babe in arms. Now, he is a full grown adult on the cusp of beginning his public ministry. We know all moments in time are equally present to the Eternal God, but it seems like the same law applies to Jesus' life: every moment merges into every other, as each mystery of His earthly life manifests something deeper about the Son and the Father who sent Him to us. 

Indeed, the word epiphany actually means 'manifestation'.  Today's epiphany in the gospel - the descent of the Holy Spirit on Jesus in the physical form of a dove, and the voice from heaven declaring him to be the Beloved Son - follows, therefore, from the epiphany of the Infant King to the Gentile Magi on Thursday. This explains for me the urge many feel to keep their decorations up and to want the Christmas season to last until Candlemas; not for everything to end today - as it officially does - but to carry on, manifesting ever deeper mysteries about the Saviour who appeared to men at Christmas.

In truth, however, there is no need for those manifestations to end even with Candlemas. Our calling in grace is to become daily more like the image of the Son; this is because the Father wants to find in us nothing but the likeness of the Son who is the life of the soul. In other words, if we hear our call, if we can say our daily fiat with Mary and Joseph, if we can offer our thanks to the Lord and rejoice in His love with every moment, then our likeness to Christ can be the occasion of other epiphanies for those who do not know Him. The Epiphany thereby becomes only the first in a chain of endless epiphanies which we can take part in simply by opening ourselves - through docibilitas or 'teachability' - to the lessons of the first epiphany. 

Of course, sometimes Jesus and his followers appear to the world as fools or scoundrels; and we must be ready to say our fiat then as well. But whether we manifest our Lord's joy to the world or His sorrow, as long as we are growing in our likeness to Him, the Father will be able to declare us his beloved children.