If you had asked me 30 years ago what I’d be doing today, I would’ve told you that I’d be President of the United States. Politics was my passion and my lifelong dream up to that point. But over time, I realized that I’m not cut out for politics. I don’t have the stomach for it, and that realization led to one of the most anxious and depressing times of my life. Politics was my goal, my purpose, a calling that gave meaning to my life. Then it was gone, and I found myself untethered, adrift, and confronted by those vexing questions that haunt human existence: Why am I here? What’s my purpose? What does God have planned for me? I struggled with those questions for a couple of years, but, in my restlessness, I also discovered a valuable skill: I learned to pay attention to God’s movements in my life. I learned to listen to him, which sounds a lot like the message from today’s readings.
The story of Abraham and Isaac is undoubtedly a story about “heroic fidelity to God’s will.”[1] Heroic, yes, faithful, sure, but let’s face it, it’s bizarre and hardly the model of parental responsibility. The same God “that had said, ‘Your wife Sarah shall bear you a son, and you shall name him Isaac,’ also said, ‘Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering.’”[2] As outrageous as God’s edict seems, what strikes me most about this text is Abraham’s silence. He never protests or complains. He never begs God to rescind that dreadful mandate, like we’d expect any good parent to do. Why not? Well, I think he’s silent because he’s listening. He’s waiting for God’s next instruction.
Why do I think that? Two reasons: First, the lawyer in me can’t help but point out the loophole: God never tells Abraham to kill his son; he tells Abraham to offer Isaac as a holocaust. I think Abraham understands that, so he’s listening for God to invoke the loophole. I base my second reason on a line from the middle of the story that we don’t hear in this morning’s passage. Isaac asks Abraham where the sheep is for the sacrifice, and Abraham answers, “God will provide the sheep for the burnt offering” (Gen. 22:8). Abraham trusts that God will provide a sheep in Isaac’s place.
Why is Abraham so trusting of God? Well, he’s spent a good part of his life listening to God, and things worked out pretty well for him. The God who commands has filled Abraham’s life with blessings, so Abraham understands that God has his best interests at heart. Abraham has learned to trust God,[3] and his demeanor shows it. Any parent told to offer up her child as a sacrifice would be utterly distraught at the mere suggestion. Yet, Abraham displays a calm, quiet confidence that can only be explained by unflinching faith that God will keep his promises and that God will provide. He developed that faith by listening.
Our reading from Genesis teaches us that listening to God helps us learn to trust God and leads us to the blessings that God promises. Scripture assures us that God always delivers on his promises, and our Psalmist and Saint Paul unabashedly testify to the all-conquering power of God’s love for us that stops at nothing. But sometimes it’s hard to understand what God’s doing and why. We humans like clarity and certainty. We’re hard-wired to try to make sense of the world, to find meaning in it,[4] and when we can’t, we get anxious and even depressed. Fortunately for us, God has filled creation with meaning. We find that meaning in Jesus Christ.
Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life. In Jesus, we find the meaning of life and our meaning in life. That’s why God tells us to listen to him in our Gospel. Jesus tells us that we’re meant to be reconciled with God, and he shows us how. Jesus tells us that we’re meant to love God and our neighbor, and he shows us how. Jesus tells us that we’re meant to take up our crosses and follow him so we, too, can be transfigured in divine glory, and he shows us how. Listening to Jesus doesn’t spare us from suffering here on earth—there’s no Easter Sunday without a Good Friday—but it does help us find meaning in our lives, meaning “that is profound, and ultimate, and stable no matter what may happen.”[5]
I think we can agree that it’s hard to make sense of a global pandemic and the unprecedented isolation that comes with it. We’re cut off from the very people and activities that give meaning to our lives, and we’re suffering for it. A survey last May shows that 28 percent of adults are experiencing anxiety, while 24 percent are showing signs of depression.[6] We’re facing a mental health crisis that has reached our parish, as well. So, first and foremost, let me say that if you’re suffering from anxiety or depression, please seek professional help. Then, remember that Christianity has something to offer, too—Jesus Christ.
God sent his beloved Son as a balm to soothe the anguish of anxiety and a light to shine through the darkness of depression. It’s easy to think of Jesus only in terms of his heavenly glory, but God is really present on the cross, too,[7] where Jesus’ transfigured glory is joined eternally to human suffering. Listening to Jesus joins our suffering to his; it reveals God’s comforting presence among us; and it anchors us to the eternal glory that awaits us.
We need to listen to him, and, believe it or not, this second Lent during a pandemic offers unique opportunities to do so. Our isolation, though difficult, gives us time and space to slow down and listen for God’s still, small voice. The Lenten disciplines of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving help us empty ourselves of self so we can be filled with the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. Jesus speaks to each of us all the time in Scripture, prayer, the Sacraments, and every corner of creation. If we listen to him, we will find meaning in our lives and the calming, trustworthy assurance that God keeps his promises, even in a global pandemic.
That’s what happened with me. Once I let go of the political career I knew I’d never have, I became open to new possibilities. I reflected on Scripture; I read great books; and I took long walks along quiet, wooded trails, rosary in hand, just to listen for whatever God might say. The more I listened, the more I realized that the same God-given qualities that I thought were leading me into politics would be useful in ministry, too. After a lot of listening, I heard God’s call to the diaconate, and what a blessing it’s been—most of the time. Listening to Jesus has worked out pretty well for me, too. It brings me great joy, helps me bear my crosses, and leads me to the good that only God can bring out of every evil. Most importantly, listening to Jesus helps me find meaning in my life that’s profound and ultimate and stable. So trust me when I say, “Listen to him.”
[1] Jeffrey Cole, ed., The Didache Bible (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2014), 27n.
[2] Barbara Brown Taylor, When God Is Silent (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, Inc., 1998), 60-61.
[3] Terence E. Fretheim, “The Book of Genesis,” in The New Interpreter’s Bible, vol. 1, General and Old Testament Articles, Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, ed. Bruce C. Birch et al. (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1994), 495.
[4] Eric Klinger, “The Search for Meaning in Evolutionary Goal-Theory Perspective and Its Clinical Implications,” in The Human Quest for Meaning, ed. Paul T. P. Wong (New York: Routledge, 2012), 31.
[5] Charles Hefling, Why Doctrines, 2nd ed. (Chestnut Hill, MA: The Lonergan Institute, 2000), 20.
[6] National Center for Health Statistics, Early Release of Selected Mental Health Estimates Based on Data from the January-June 2019 National Health Interview Survey, May 2020, https://www.cdc.gov/nchs/data/nhis/earlyrelease/ERmentalhealth-508.pdf.
[7] Pheme Perkins, “The Gospel of Mark,” in The New Interpreter’s Bible, vol. 8, New Testament Articles, Matthew, Mark, ed. Marion L. Soards et al. (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1994), 632.
Yes, Hineni, invites us to listen and to see. All of creation contains some sacrament. (Grace from God)
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