A Good Messenger

The Great Wave Off Kanagawa, Katsushika Hokusai

          The Japanese tell a story of an old man who lived in a beautiful home on top of a mountain.  Each day he took a walk in his garden and looked out at the sea below.  One day he noticed that the water was acting strangely – it appeared dark; it moved against the wind and drew away from the shore.  The old man knew exactly what that meant, and he knew that he had to warn his neighbors in the village along the shore.  He quickly grabbed a torch and set fire to his house.  When the villagers saw the flames, some said “Let’s climb the mountain to save our friend,” while others said, “He’s gone mad!  Why else would he set his house on fire?  Let him be.”  Well, the villagers who climbed the mountain to save their neighbor were themselves saved.  Those who remained in the village below perished in the tsunami that struck the shore.  That old man was a good messenger.  Today’s readings are teaching us how to be good messengers, too.

          In our first reading, Amos reveals himself as a reluctant prophet. He was perfectly happy living his life as a shepherd and dresser of sycamores (I’ll explain what that is after Mass), but when God’s call came, Amos left his happy life to take up the much more difficult life as God’s messenger.   In our Gospel passage, Jesus sends the apostles out two-by-two to bring his message to the people – to preach repentance, drive out demons and heal the sick.  These readings remind us of the waters of baptism when each one of us was commissioned as a prophet, as God’s messenger, and they teach us what it takes to be a good messenger:  We have to know the message; we have to live the message; and we have to love our neighbor.

  

        I think we can all agree that a good messenger has to know the message.  “When the apostles went out to preach, they did not create a message; they brought a message.  They didn’t tell people what they believed and what they considered probable; they told people what Jesus had told them.”[1]  So it’s our duty as messengers to understand Jesus’ message.  How many of us can say that we can explain our faith comfortably to our children, to our colleagues at work, or to a member of another faith?  We have to know and understand what Jesus said in order to deliver his message.  We need to immerse ourselves in scripture and Church teachings; we need to plunge head-first into faith formation programs; we need to ask questions; and we need to plumb the depths of every resource available to us to find the answers (like what a dresser of sycamores is).    

But knowing the Christian message is much more than simply understanding the words.  To know the Christian message, we have to know Jesus.  Jesus is God’s Word made flesh.  God’s Word isn’t relegated to dusty pages sitting on a shelf.  It’s alive and incarnate in the person of Jesus Christ.  “It is the encounter with and dwelling with Jesus that creates disciples.  The apostles are able to represent Jesus because they know him and have lived with him.”[2]  We need to know him, too.  To know Jesus’ message, we have to develop a deep, personal relationship with him.  We need to speak openly and honestly with Jesus in prayer, casting our burdens before him and thanking him for saving our souls.  We need to fill ourselves with his divine love through the gift of the Eucharist.  We need to live as he lived.

Jesus’ message is meant to be lived.  It’s not a message sealed in a bottle that bobs aimlessly with the ebbs and flows of life.  It’s a tidal wave of faith, hope and love intended to flood the hearts of every person.  It’s a no-frills, take action kind of life.  In our Gospel “we see that the mark of the Christian disciple was to be utter simplicity, complete trust, and generosity.”[3]  It’s a great way to live because it’s a joy-filled life.  As Pope Francis Tweeted last year, “I cannot imagine a Christian who does not know how to smile.”[4]  We have every reason to smile.  And smiles are infectious.  So the best way to deliver Jesus’ message is to live that message – to live a joyful life anchored in faith, hope and love.  “It is not by proselytizing that the Church grows, but by attraction.”[5]  Good messengers live Jesus’ message in such a way that it’s irresistible.

Finally, a good messenger has to love his neighbor.  Saint Thomas Aquinas tells us that “to love is to will the good of another.”[6]  That’s why when we have a good thing, we want to share it with our loved ones.  The Christian message is such a good thing that it flows right through us; love compels us to share it.  But love also requires that we honor human dignity by respecting each person’s God-given free will.  “Speaking the truth by no means guarantees acceptance, for the truth will be uncomfortable for some.”[7]  We can’t force Christ’s message on anyone.  Even the most compelling messenger, Jesus himself, was rejected.  But he loves us all the same.  So “when we bring the Gospel it must be with a spirit of humility.”[8]  It must be with a spirit of love.  A good messenger loves his neighbor, even when he’s rejected by him.

          That old Japanese man was a good messenger.  He read the message of the sea and he understood it.  He lived that message by taking immediate action to share it with his neighbors, whom he loved to the point of self-sacrifice.  His message was received by some and rejected by others, but he was still a good messenger.   We’re all called by God to be good messengers.  Are we?

Readings:  Amos 7: 12-15; Psalm 85; Ephesians 1: 3-14; Mark 6: 7-13

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[1] William Barclay, The New Daily Study Bible:  Gospel of Mark (Louisville, Westminster John Knox Press, 2001) at 166.

[2] John W. Martens, “Where Do You Live?” America, vol. 213, no. 1 (July 6-13, 2015) at 45.

[3] Barclay at 166.

[4] Pope Francis, Twitter, January 30, 2014.

[5] Pope Francis, Evangelii Gaudium (Vatican City, Libreria Editrice Vaticana, Nov. 24, 2013) at 14.

[6] St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, I-II, 26.4, corp. art.

[7] Donald E. Gowan, “Amos,” The New Interpreter’s Bible (Nashville, Abingdon Press, 1996) at 412.

[8] Martens at 27.

Horror-scope

The Scream, by Edvard Munch

                For as long as I’ve been reading newspapers, I’ve checked my horoscope every day.  I don’t know anything about astrology – I won’t tell you that you’re behaving a certain way because you’re a Leo or a Pisces, and I won’t warn you not to marry a certain person because your signs are incompatible.  I don’t even believe that the stars under which we’re born can predict anything.  But I kind of like the idea of getting a short forecast of my future at the beginning of each day, whether accurate or not.  I just like reading my horoscope . . . well, until today.

                Here’s the horoscope that greeted me this morning:

Sagittarius (Nov. 22 – Dec. 21).  You’ll serve, you’ll entertain, you’ll comfort.  You can’t help but wonder when your turn will come – not today, so don’t hold your breath.

What in the world kind of horoscope is that?  It reminds of a line from Shrek the Musical when Shrek’s parents are sending him away at age seven:  “It’s a big, bright beautiful world, with happiness all around.  It’s peaches and cream and every dream comes true . . . but not for you.”[1]  There isn’t even a glimmer of hope in that horoscope – not even an inkling as to when my turn will come.  I immediately called my sister (a fellow Sagittarius), and we commiserated in our best Eeyore voices:  “Not today.”

                Complaints aside (for now), I admit that this horoscope gave me a good laugh.  I actually laughed out loud when I read it, and I had to share it right away.  It made me laugh because it’s so real.  I’ll bet most of us, whether Sagittarians or not, spend a good part of our days serving, entertaining and comforting, occasionally wondering when our turn will come.  That’s basically how life goes.  We were created to love God by loving our neighbor; and loving our neighbor involves a whole lot of serving, entertaining and comforting.  Just think of the corporal works of mercy:  Feed the hungry; give drink to the thirsty; clothe the naked; shelter the homeless; visit the sick; visit the imprisoned; bury the dead.

                So the secret to a happy life is to find joy and fulfillment in serving, entertaining and comforting.  Sure, serving, entertaining and comforting can be exhausting; and for that reason, we all need to be served, entertained and comforted as well.  But when we use our God-given talents to serve, entertain and comfort our neighbor, we’re fulfilling our God-given purpose.  That should make us very happy.  I’ve never met a parent who enjoys changing diapers and cleaning up vomit.  But I’ve also never met a parent who, looking back on his or her life, didn’t find tremendous joy, satisfaction and fulfillment in being a mother or father.  Happiness is a choice – so we can wallow in self-pity as we serve, entertain and comfort, or we can find great joy in the opportunity to fulfill our God-given purpose by helping others.

 

                Now back to my horoscope.  I didn’t think much about that horoscope until I sat down to write this post.  It made me laugh again because it’s so real.  How did I spend my day?  I served, I entertained and I comforted.  And I was very happy.  I wonder if tomorrow’s horoscope can top that.

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[1] “Big, Bright, Beautiful World,” Shrek the Musical, music by Jeanine Tesori, lyrics by David Lindsay-Abaire.

Dependent Independence

Old Glory at the Washington Monument
Michael A. Meyer (1985)

          Last night, as I was perusing the musings of fellow Tweeps, I came across a 2011 CBS News survey tweeted by CARA, a social science research center affiliated with my alma mater, Georgetown University. The survey asked American adults: “Do you happen to fly the American flag on special days like the Fourth of July or Flag Day?” To my surprise, the results suggest a connection between religious affiliation and flying the flag. Of those responding “yes,” 71% were Catholic, 66% were Mainline Protestant (whatever that means), 64% were Evangelical Christians (apparently they’re not Mainline Protestants), 61% were other religions, and 55% expressed no religious affiliation. The connection escaped me, so I moved on to other tweets. But by the dawn’s early light, it hit me. The connection between religious affiliation and flying the flag stems from the fact that the United States is founded on dependent independence.

          “So Mike,” you ask, “what’s dependent independence?” Well, in establishing the Thirteen Colonies as independent states by severing ties with the British crown, the Founding Fathers didn’t expect that we would or could go it alone. There’s a reason why the Declaration of Independence invokes God four times:

• Declaring that the “Laws of Nature and Nature’s God” entitle us to assume our separate and equal station among the powers of the earth;
• Establishing the self-evident truths “that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness;”
• “[A]ppealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions;” and
• Firmly relying “on the protection of divine Providence.”

The Founding Fathers realized that our independence would always be dependent on God.

          Generally speaking, the Founding Fathers were educated men steeped in the classics. As such, they would have been well-versed in the sciences, philosophy and theology. They would have been familiar with Plato’s argument that humans can attain transcendent reality by using our reason to detach ourselves from the material world and to develop our ability to focus on transcendent “forms.” The Founding Fathers also would have known how Saint Augustine tempered that philosophical mouthful by arguing that while we can attain unity with transcendent reality (i.e., God), we cannot attain unity with God alone – we need God’s help. The key for Saint Augustine is humilitas – humility. “Augustine recognized, through his own experience, that it wasn’t what he did that brought him to union with God, but rather, it was what God was doing in his life.”[1] Union with transcendent reality, with self-evident truth, with God, comes from self-emptying, from the admission of need, from a declaration of dependence.

          So what’s the link between religious affiliation and flying the flag? Well, those with religious beliefs generally accept that that we’re created by a transcendent God, which means that all that we have and all that we need is provided to us by our Creator. In short, we humbly accept that we can’t go it alone; we need God. We need God for food; we need God for shelter; and yes, we even need God for “Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” So when we fly the flag, we humbly acknowledge that our independence is a gift from God and that we cannot achieve or maintain that independence without “the protection of divine Providence.” By flying the flag we acknowledge, as the Founding Fathers did, that the only independence worth fighting for is dependent independence.

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[1] Anthony Ciorra, The History of Christian Spirituality (Now You Know Media, 2012) at disk 1, track 26.