The Sacred Dynamic of Frank Conversation

Last Sunday’s Gospel reading was the familiar story of Martha and Mary (Luke 10:38-42).  As the reading began, I wasn’t expecting to hear anything new.  I know this one; I know the words of Jesus; I know the lesson.

But I was blessed to be surprised.  I was surprised by the words of Martha.  Not because she sounded distressed, or frustrated, or annoyed with her sister.  I wasn’t surprised by her resentment or even her logic. 

I was surprised by how bold she was with Jesus, how frank, how confident.

Thinking back over the Gospels, there were many people who were quite deferential toward Jesus.  They spoke and acted with fitting respect for the masterful teacher and wonder-worker he was.  But there were others who were surprisingly informal with Jesus.  Perfect strangers approached him – they asked him for things, they touched him, they laid their heaviest burdens on him.  Indeed, many who approached Jesus did not just ask; they commanded!  Remember Jairus:  “My daughter is at the point of death.  Come and lay your hands on her” (Mk. 5:23) or Bartimaeus of Jericho:  “Let me see again” (Mk. 10:51).

Martha’s command was just as direct:  “Tell her to help me.”

Certainly the presence of Jesus made people take notice.  There was charisma, authority, even power over the natural world.  But apparently he was not intimidating.  There was something about his presence that drew people close, unmasking them and inviting frank conversation and bold requests.

Now of course, when we are frank and bold with Jesus, he may be frank and bold with us.   Martha may not have liked Jesus’ gentle rebuke.  But John’s Gospel tells us that Jesus loved her (Jn. 11:5), and she certainly knew that.   There was no need for Martha to hide her heart from Jesus.  The honesty, the unmasking, is what allowed Jesus to penetrate that heart, to love it and transform it.  This is the power of honest prayer, the sacred dynamic of frank conversation.

The Good and The Bad at the Table of the Lord

On Sunday’s celebration of Corpus Christi, I was struck by a line in the Lauda Sion sequence recited at Mass:  “Bad and good the feast are sharing.”

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how God seems to have a preference for imperfect people.  Read a few pages of Scripture and you discover a murderer was the greatest prophet of the Old Testament (Moses), and one who was at least complicit in murder was the greatest missionary of the New Testament (Paul).  King David was an adulterer but also a man after God’s own heart.  Peter betrayed his best friend and his Lord but in the eyes of that same Lord, he was a Rock.

Bad and good this feast are sharing – this Eucharistic feast, this feast of life, feast of divine love that seeps in and around us.  If we had to be “good” before we could come to the feast, what would be the point?  It is this feast that heals the bad in all of us. 

When it comes to human beings, God prefers transformation to perfection.  This is what his friendship and his table are all about.

“Very bread, good shepherd, tend us,
Jesus, of your love befriend us,
You refresh us, you defend us,
Your eternal goodness send us
In the land of life to see.”

— Lauda Sion Sequence, Corpus Christi

The Table by Julie Delton.  Originally published on the cover of The Christian Century magazine and published here with permission.  Click on the image for more of Julie's artwork (www.juliedelton.weebly.com).

Walk the Walk

“Whoever says, ‘I abide in him,’ ought to walk just as he walked.”

-- 1 Jn. 2:6

Rembrandt's Head of Christ (1648)

One Hour Retreat for Holy Week

Last year as Holy Week approached, I recommended reading all of Mark’s Gospel in one sitting as a one-hour reflection.  If you have not had a chance to do so, you may wish to do that this year.  Try to forget everything you think you know about Jesus, sit in a quiet place, and listen to him.  You will encounter a raw, passionate preacher and miracle-worker, one who has an urgent message for you.

If you have already read Mark, this year I recommend Jesus’ Farewell Discourse in John’s Gospel (Jn. 14-16).  In last week’s blog post, we reflected on Jesus washing the feet of his disciples, an event that is only narrated in John’s Gospel.  Also exclusive to John is the lengthy discourse that follows.  In this farewell address, Jesus speaks his final words of comfort, his final declaration of unity with the Father, and his final commands to his friends before he lays down his life for them. 

You have read or heard these words before.  They are beautiful, haunting, mystical, profound and personal.  Are you a disciple of Jesus?  Then he is speaking to you.

Sometime in the coming week, sit down with your Bible in a quiet place, or click here to read the text online.  Or click here to print a copy of the text; you can then write your own thoughts and responses to Jesus on the paper.

After class this past week, one of my students commented that John 14-16 should be required reading for every Christian, every few months.  Indeed, we need this personal and profound reminder from Jesus, that if we do not love one another as he has loved us, if we do not lay down our lives for one another in small ways and large, then Jesus will not be present in this world.  With the privilege of being Jesus’ friend (15:15) comes the joyful and challenging responsibility of sharing that friendship with others (15:13).  This is when he truly abides in us, and we in him (15:10).

Reflection questions for John 14-16:

What kinds of things would you say to your loved ones if you knew you were dying?

How do you think the disciples felt when Jesus told them he was leaving, and how does Jesus comfort them?

What is the relationship between Jesus and the Father, and what is their relationship with believers?

How will the Holy Spirit work in our lives in Jesus’ absence?

What is the new commandment of Jesus?  How does Jesus love?  How must we love?

What does Jesus say that especially strikes you as you prayerfully read this text?  What is he speaking to your heart?  How do you respond to him?

Christ's Entry into Jerusalem, Hippolyte Flandrin

If You Can't Wash Their Feet, How Will You Die for Them?

The first chapter of John’s Gospel introduces Jesus as the logos (Greek for “the Word”).  A word communicates something; Jesus is what God wants to say to the world.  In fact, New Testament scholar Francis Moloney loosely translates John 1:18 as:  “He [Jesus] has told God’s story.”

As the divine logos, not only Jesus’ words but everything he does express something to us about God.  Jesus is not just a messenger of God’s words; he is God’s self-expression.

John is the only Gospel that tells the story of Jesus washing the feet of the disciples at the Last Supper.  In this unique story, the divine logos speaks loudly.  John does not narrate the details of the meal or what we now call the "institution of the Eucharist."  Instead, he tells a simple story about Jesus with a basin of water and a towel, doing something we never expected.  He washes the dirty feet of his friends.

Peter is appalled, remember?  But Jesus is patient.  He says to Peter, “What I am doing, you will not understand now.  But you will understand later.”  When he is finished, he asks his friends, “Do you know what I have done for you?  I have given you a model to follow.”  And of course we know from the other words and actions of Jesus, all expressions of the Father, that this is not only something we should do for our friends, but for anyone in need, and for our enemies too.

The footwashing is startling, and Jesus’ command to imitate his humble deed asks a lot of us.  But it is nothing compared to the Cross.  Ultimately, this is where Jesus goes.  This is where he says to us again, “What I am doing, you will not understand now.  But you will understand later.”  This is where he asks us for the last time, “Do you know what I have done for you?  I have given you a model to follow.”  This is where we hear the echo of John’s testimony about Jesus:  “He loved his own in the world and he loved them to the end” (13:1).

Now imagine your friends, and those who need you, and your enemies – those who have hurt you or failed you, those in your life who are most difficult to love, respect or care for.  Now imagine that you take up a towel and a basin of water.  Imagine that you kneel down and carefully wash their feet, and gently dry them.  You might not want to do it at first, although you know God has done it for you so many times.  But if you can’t wash the feet of every person in your life, how will you go to the Cross, how will you lay down your life for them, how will you love your own to the end?

Jesus has told God’s story.  And now we are his logos, his Word, his self-expression in the world.  We have been given a model to follow.  Will we do it?

To meditate further on the text of John 13, click here.

Ford Madox Brown, Jesus Washing Peter's Feet, 1856