A recording of today's gospel and reflection can be accessed here.
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Today’s gospel (John 10: 22-30) takes place at the time of
the Feast of Dedication, a solemnity marking the reconsecration of the Temple under
Judas Maccabeus after its desecration. In this scene, He whose body is the
Temple of Temples clashes with the children of Israel who question Him once
more about whether He is the Christ. His reply disappoints them for He says He
has already told them by word and by work. Then, returning to the theme of
being a shepherd, He acclaims His Lordship over His sheep, His sheep’s recognition
of Him, and His Father’s relationship to the flock. Lastly, He declares the
mystery of mysteries that He and the Father are one.
On one level this scene is a clash of words and a dialogue
of the deaf, at least on one side. Yet, it is important to remember something
as we listen in to its beginnings: the first question about whether He is the
Christ is a question in bad faith. Jesus, who sits and eats with sinners, who
greets the woman at the well, and who speaks to Nicodemus in the night, follows
in this scene the opposite strategy. At least, while He speaks and speaks
abundantly, He does not enter a dialogue. Some today turn dialogue into a
theological virtue; Jesus, who is the way, the truth, and the life, chooses
here a totally contrary route. Is then Jesus the causer of the division?
Diplomats and peace brokers would tell us, yes, Jesus
clearly here perpetuates division. Here, they would say, Jesus shows us His
limits and His negativity. Here, they might conclude, Jesus shows us perhaps His
death wish to become a martyr. Better to bring in the professional negotiators,
the ones who know the honeyed words of concord and how to avoid division. Maybe
Jesus can yet be saved from the cross – such a messy death. Or at least He
could be stopped from urging His disciples to follow His example and do
violence to themselves – remember His words about cutting off hands and
plucking out eyes? For as all wise people know, those who do violence to
themselves should probably be in an institution.
On another tack of course, as the Prime Minister of Israel
recently told the world’s press, Unfortunately and unhappily, Jesus Christ
has no advantage over Genghis Khan … if you are strong enough, ruthless enough,
powerful enough, evil will overcome good. Next time you meet any followers
of Genghis Khan, do be sure to admit this to them. If Jesus wanted peace, He
ought really to have come with His armies, and conquered all comers, crushing
them, and adding it to His CV as He manifested Himself to the pinnacle of His
career as the Messiah. There speaks the wisdom of this world, and the wisdom of
Jesus’ interlocutors in today’s gospel.
Here we are reminded again that all truths are paradoxical.
God is Three and One; Mary is Mother and Virgin; the Eucharist is Sacrifice and
Sacrament. And the truth that we must respect the consciences of others – as Jesus
respected the consciences of His interlocutors – is paradoxically balanced by
the truth that while erroneous consciences cannot be forced, they must be
called out, if not in words, then in deeds. They must be called out firstly by being
confronted by a contrary example. We cannot simulate concord; concord can only
be crafted out of the bones of truth. Then erroneous consciences must be called
out not by accusation – only Jesus may do that – but by simple witness, even
perhaps the witness of silence. It may not be opportune to speak or to act but
it is never opportune to dissimulate, not concerning the truths of salvation.
When asked why he wrote his first book Under Satan’s Sun, a modern
rehearsal of the life of a priest like St John Vianney, French Catholic
novelist Georges Bernanos replied: I wanted to bear witness before I died. He wanted to speak truth into the immoral and
nihilistic chaos of interwar France, following his master Jesus who speaks
truth into the chaos of first-century Jerusalem, who speaks truth into the
chaos of every one of us in our hearts. Let’s not let our consciences be deceived
about how fragile our settlement with Him really is; how we need the living occupation
of the Prince of Peace in our hearts for He came to make His home with us. Then
and only then can we belong to the flock that He holds so that nobody may snatch
it from Him, least of all the diplomats and the peacemakers.
How can this defensive negativity of Jesus do any good,
wonders the wisdom of the world? You may well ask. How can the cross do any
good? How could being born into obscurity do any good? How could choosing
illiterate amateurs over professional scripture scholars do any good? How could
allowing Himself to be delivered into the hands of His enemies do any good? How
can the Prince of Peace stake a claim on peace by becoming the victim of the
very violence He came to prevent? The answer to all these questions is simple
and is found just two chapters later in St John’s gospel when Jesus
communicates a message to the Greek gentiles who come to question Him:
Unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies,
it abides alone; but if it dies, it brings forth much fruit.
To which thought St Paul adds the following corollary:
God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise;
God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong.
If it is foolish, we can rest assured that the foolishness
of God is greater than the wisdom of men.
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