“Love,” by Ukrainian artist Alexander Milov

Dietrich Bonhoeffer was a German Lutheran pastor in Nazi Germany. He preached non-violent Christian discipleship and resistance, encouraging Christians in the virtue of loving one’s enemies. He was arrested after getting caught helping Jews escape Germany, and he was executed in a concentration camp. Bonhoeffer wrote in his book The Cost of Discipleship: “We are approaching an age of widespread persecution. Our adversaries seek to root out the Christian Church because they cannot live side by side with us. So what shall we do? We shall pray. It will be a prayer of earnest love for those who stand around and gaze at us with eyes aflame with hatred, and who have perhaps already raised their hands to kill us.” A few weeks ago, I made reference to Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., who said, “Somehow we must be able to stand up against our most bitter opponents and say: ‘We shall match your capacity to inflict suffering by our capacity to endure suffering… Do to us what you will, and we will still love you.”

We talked about the difficulty of being God’s prophetic people, of living and speaking God’s love, his light, into the darkness and sin of our world, and suffering for it, if necessary. In our readings this week, we get specific instructions, and core principles, of what this looks like in Christian life. The model, of course, is Christ, our Lord, who on the cross showed us that divine power is perfectly expressed in what our world sees as weakness, but in reality uses the tools of the enemy—sin, suffering, and death (which the enemy introduced into humanity as the consequence of the Fall)—and turn them into the tools of Christian virtue—mercy, joy, and love.

Our Gospel reading is the continuation of Jesus’ Sermon on the Plain in the Gospel of Luke. “Jesus said to his disciples: ‘To you who hear, I say, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.’” Perhaps there’s someone who cost you a job; maybe destroyed your marriage; someone who hurt or killed a friend or family member; someone who assaulted or violated you or a loved one; someone who never stops gossiping, or is a constant drain on your nerves? The one who always causes problems in your family, or at work, or in your neighborhood? Someone who broke your heart, someone who seems to look for ways to cause you problems. Maybe the person who drove slowly in front of you or didn’t use their blinkers. Maybe there’s a politician or someone in the church; anyone from the person who you ignore to the person who fills you with rage, all of them, Jesus tells us, we must love them, do good to them, bless them, and pray for them. That’s what it is to deny ourselves, pick up our cross daily, and to follow Him. It’s the example He gave from the cross, as He prayed to the Father for the forgiveness of those who hated and crucified Him.

The logic of Jesus’ instructions here is the same “Logic of the Kingdom” evident in the Beatitudes. It is not the self, not victory, not retaliation, not pleasure, not earthly power or riches, that makes one happy. It is agape love, self-giving, generous, appreciative, caring love that is the only thing that truly makes us happy. Because we are made in the image of God, and it is the divine love exchanged within the Holy Trinity that truly makes us happy. That is what we are made for. That is the love of the Kingdom of God. That is the love that Christ embraced in allowing himself to be brutally and tortuously crucified, because he knew that by it, humanity would be freed from slavery to sin, and have the invitation to the divine life of grace.  

The key to the Christian life, to imitating Christ, and the saints, is the difference between reacting naturally, and responding supernaturally. We all have our habitual way of dealing with people and events when they affect us negatively. And if we don’t think about it, we give our natural reaction. The problem is that our nature is fallen and inclined to sin, to selfishness and pride, to fear and impatience. So that’s the nature of our natural reaction—often self-oriented and sinful. But we are rational human beings, we can choose how we respond. And we are Christians infused with divine grace, so we can do better, and are called to do better, than the reflex of our fallen nature. We are called to be supernatural in a natural world; to draw our response from supernatural grace, rather than our natural inclination.

“For if you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? Even sinners love those who love them. And if you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? Even sinners do the same. If you lend money to those from whom you expect repayment, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners…” So Jesus here is saying that to confine ourselves to what makes sense even on the natural level, is not to make a supernatural, transcendent choice. If we’re going to receive what we give, then it’s merely an even exchange; it is not virtuously generous and self-sacrificing.

Jesus teaches us, “But rather, love your enemies and do good to them, and lend expecting nothing back; then your reward will be great and you will be children of the Most High, for he himself is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked.” Good thing for us, too, isn’t it? As St. Paul says in his letter to the Romans (5:8), “But God proves his love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us.” God, in Christ, showed us what kind of forgiving, generous love He has for us, even while we rail against Him. That is the kind of forgiving, generous love we as Christians are called to have and to show to others. “Be merciful, as your heavenly father is merciful,” Jesus tells us.

How do we live faith? We make a sacrifice that won’t be justly repaid in this world, but relies on our faith that it might be repaid in the kingdom, in heaven. That’s where we are to put up our treasure. And we can’t just rely on our natural goodness, however developed that might or might not be. We rely on the grace from God, the divine love of Christ within us, by which we are made children of the Most High. And it’s going to take that grace, isn’t it, to love the one who did the worst imaginable sin against you or your family? To pray for the forgiveness and salvation of the worst person in your life.

Saint Vincent de Paul was well known for practicing “the pause.”  This is also a modern piece of wisdom you can practice, especially when you’re already stressed out and someone’s about to make you lose your… serenity. But Saint Vincent de Paul was known for having a short moment before he would respond to someone. And he said, in that moment, that pause, he would pray, that his response would be holy, would be beneficial for the salvation of himself and for those he was speaking with. That little pause of prayer, of inviting God’s grace into that moment, is an example of learning to go beyond having a natural, reflexive reaction, to reaching up to having a supernatural, chosen response. Practice the pause.

“Stop judging and you will not be judged.” That’s a popular one today, isn’t it? In recent times, it’s been the battle cry of relativists, those who oppose an objective belief in right and wrong moral acts, and Christians taking a moral stand on a social moral issue. Jesus’ words are true, of course. We don’t judge people. Or at least we shouldn’t. I have found it very useful to apply what’s called “Hanlon’s Razor,” which says, “Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity.” In other words, be charitable in your assumptions of someone else’s reasons for acting a certain way: “Don’t assume someone did something to be mean if they reasonably just might have done it out of a lack of awareness.”

So we don’t judge people as evil. But we can and should judge actions as sinful. For example, abortion is a sin. That doesn’t mean we call someone who just had an abortion a hell-bound murderer. It means we love and pray for them, because it’s quite possible they might be suffering, or soon suffer, horrible regret for what we know is sinful, and they did out of ignorance, or fear, or pressure. That kind of patience and compassion is how we would want God to minister to us, and so that is how we minister to others. We certainly don’t help people experience the love of God when we confirm stereotypes of Christians as condemning people and presuming to know their disposition in God’s view. And yet that is quite different than those who pray and offer support outside of an abortion clinic, and are accused by customers and staff for aggressively imposing their religion or harassing customers, if this isn’t really the case. 

In our first reading, David as a young man, gives us an example of our gospel lesson. King Saul (Israel’s first king, whose later death would lead to the accession of his successor, David) was an incompetent, jealous, and insecure king who hated the young David because David was more popular. Our reading says Saul went out with three thousand men against David. Three thousand men!? That’s a lot of hatred in Saul’s heart. When David and his friend found Saul and his army asleep, his friend offered to kill Saul on the spot. But David wouldn’t let him, and instead simply stole Saul’s spear and water jug from near his head, to later show Saul that David had been given the chance to react to Saul’s hatred by David’s own act of hatred—to kill Saul—but David instead chose mercy, and hopefully Saul himself would respond with mercy. Which he later did.

In the next verse after our reading—the last verse of the chapter, it says, “Then Saul said to David: ‘Blessed are you, my son David! You shall certainly succeed in whatever you undertake.’ David went his way, and Saul returned to his place.“

If David had killed Saul, Saul would have died with that hatred in his heart. David gave him the opportunity to convert to forgiveness, and reconcile their relationship. And doing so, David might have saved Saul’s soul. That’s a real display of love for one’s enemies, and hope for their salvation.

Our fallen human nature tends to think predominantly in physical terms. We’ve seen images of Jesus all muscled out like he’s on steroids… Rambo Jesus. That’s a depiction of Jesus’ power, interpreted through an all-too-human lens. Jesus, physically, was fit. He was a carpenter, he labored with his physical body. And of course the real strength of Jesus was beyond powerful. But not because of his muscles. Rather, because of his virtue, his meekness, his humility, his willingness to serve and to suffer for others. “Super Buff Jesus” completely misses the point of Jesus’ true message of divine power, a power that even the tiny Mother Teresa could manifest. 

Likewise, our fallen human nature often looks to solve problems at the physical level, even when the problems are not essentially physical problems. Very often, our problems are spiritual problems. The most important problems of our world are never going to be solved by legislation, by resolutions, by summits, by international councils. The most important problems of our world are spiritual problems… Satan, evil, and sin. And so our most important tools for combatting these spiritual problems—our most important weapons against our real spiritual enemies—are not guns, walls, and resolutions, but prayers, Masses, and saints. As Boenhoffer said, “So what shall we do? We shall pray. It will be a prayer of earnest love for those who stand around and gaze at us with eyes aflame with hatred.” As Dr. MLK, Jr., said, “Do to us what you will, and we will still love you.” The weapons of prayer, humility, and trust in divine love are far more powerful than any military force. And it is only these that are effective against the true enemy of world peace. To quote Alfred Lord Tennyson, “More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of.”

I recently uploaded the recording and transcript of an incredible lecture by Dr. Peter Kreeft on how we might successfully wage the culture war to save our world. I highly recommend it! We cannot fight and win this battle at the level of our fallen humanity, with the weapons of human warfare. We can only successfully fight and win this battle—this war—with the weapons of Christ: sanctity, virtue, prayer, and divine mercy.

Paul in our second reading speaks about the image we provide. We first have the image of Adam—natural humanity, which was then by Adam distorted and corrupted by sin, and our actions and fallen nature reflect that. But we are called to reflect the New Adam, the spiritual man, not by nature, but by choice and faith, to resemble Christ, by the grace within us, and our response to it—our life of grace. “Just as we have borne the image of the earthly one, we shall also bear the image of the heavenly one.” So let us make the effort to heal from our old sinful habits of the flesh and instead cultivate new spiritual habits of grace, that we might give witness to the beautiful life that all humanity is called to: life in union with Our Lord Jesus Christ: the divine life of mercy, joy, and love.

Lady Wisdom and Lady Folly

Over the last few weeks, we’ve been talking about the call to be God’s prophetic people.

What does a prophet do? A prophet is (a man, a woman, a group) called by God to speak and to live divine truth, in season and out of season (when it’s popular and when it’s not), to provide an interpretation of reality (past, present, and future) through God’s message of mercy and hope, or correction and repentance. A prophet is not one who predicts the future, but one whose message can have a predictive aspect, because he speaks truth, and truth is beyond time. He reminds the world of what is true: that if we act in harmony with God’s truth of reality, we will receive the blessings of our choices; and if we act in conflict with God’s truth of reality, we will be subject to the curses of our choices. To use a great quote from a recent article (The “Wayward Daughters,” written by Haley Stewart) talking about female main characters in different books (Julia from Brideshead Revisited and Kristin from Kristin Lavransdatter, two wonderful books, very popular in Catholic circles), who suffered as the consequences of their bad choices, the author says, “The years of misery they suffer are not punishment inflicted by a parent or by God—the consequences of sin itself are what tortures them. They are punished by their sin, not for their sin.”

Our first reading is from the words of the prophet Jeremiah. We heard his call to prophetic ministry two weekends ago. God had told him, “…Tell them all that I command you… for it is I this day who have made you… a pillar of iron, a wall of brass …They will fight against you but not prevail over you.” We also remember the context of Jeremiah’s ministry: Israel was being tempted to rely on their military strength and their political alliances, and they weren’t in the practice of calling on God.

Now we read today’s reading from Jeremiah, “Cursed is the one who trusts in human beings, who seeks his strength in flesh, whose heart turns away from the LORD.” So Jeremiah is reminding Israel of their call to be faithful to God, that God is their strength, their salvation, and the prediction that if they believe that other people, other nations, will be their salvation, they will end up in misery, and the curse of death or slavery.

“He is like a barren bush in the desert that enjoys no change of season, but stands in a lava waste, a salt and empty earth.” That’s a pretty desolate, lifeless, hopeless image. That, no doubt, was Jeremiah’s point. The crucial issue is not Israel’s working together with neighboring nations; the problem was Israel trusted in them, and had turned their hearts away from God. Once you turn away your heart from God, the source of life, you become like a shrub in the dry wilderness: not bearing any good (spiritual) fruit. But then on the other hand, “Blessed is the one who trusts in the LORD, whose hope is the LORD. He is like a tree, planted beside the waters, that stretches out its roots to the stream: it fears not the heat when it comes; its leaves stay green; in the year of drought it shows no distress, but still bears fruit.” What is Jeremiah’s prophecy? If Israel remains faithful to the covenant with God, they will endure the time of difficulty and receive the blessings of their faithfulness, bearing good fruit. That doesn’t mean they won’t suffer, but that they will not end in suffering, and even in their suffering, they have the certain hope in God’s eventual vindication… which is a very different kind of suffering than one experienced as hopeless and meaningless.

What does it mean to remain faithful to the covenant with God? It’s more than just to believe that God will save them. It’s to live each day according to the truth of the Scriptures, the law, the commandments and worship that defines what it means to be God’s people.

I know I don’t usually reference the psalm, but today it’s Psalm 1, which sets the tone for the whole book of the psalms. And like much of the Old Testament, and even the New Testament, it establishes the “two ways,” the way of wisdom, and the way of folly; the way of blessings, and the way of curses; the way of life, and the way of death. The psalm says, “Blessed the man who follows not the counsel of the wicked, nor walks in the way of sinners, nor sits in the company of the insolent, but delights in the law of the LORD and meditates on his law day and night.” So if you hang out with good, wise people, you learn from them goodness and wisdom. If you hang out with foolish, wicked people, you become like them.

That doesn’t mean we don’t hang out with our friends (or even strangers) who are on the wrong path. We do want to be friends with them; we want to walk with them, accompany them, support them, and ideally, to help them avoid things that will hurt them and lead them to greater happiness. But we don’t want to encourage or approve of their sins: we want to be the good, wise, holy friend in their life, who doesn’t judge them, but who gives them good counsel. We want to be the prophetic witness in their lives. And then we also need to have other people in our life for our own well-being, who are more good and wise than us. We need to pray the scriptures frequently, and even more frequently the more we’re with people who present bad influences to us. We need the word of God in our heart and on our lips, and the wisdom of how and when to share it in love, sometimes in tough love.

Sometimes people say to me, “My spiritual life is so dry. It’s hard to pray. I don’t feel God’s presence. I feel spiritually fruitless.” A good response to that might be, “How much time each day do you invest in praying with the Scriptures?” If the answer is, “I don’t; I’m too busy,” then the problem is a malnourished faith. The Scriptures are the living waters that our soul should be drinking from, and refreshing itself. It is the flesh and blood of the Word of God that gives life. The Scriptures are Christ. As St. Jerome said, “Ignorance of the Scriptures is ignorance of Christ.” We can’t expect to have spiritual life if our spirit hasn’t been nourished in weeks or months or more. And I don’t mean just to read the Scriptures, or even read a lot of scripture, but to read it deeply. The Psalm says, “…and meditates on his law day and night.” It is to gnaw on it, chew on it, listen to it, wrestle with it, squeeze all you can out of it, reconcile yourself with it, and live it. As I said before, lectio divina is a wonderful way of really interacting deeply with the Scriptures.

Our Gospel from Luke is what is often called “The Sermon on the plain,” compared to Matthew’s Gospel which has “The Sermon on the mount.” Even within the sources I used for preparation, they disagreed whether this was two accounts of the same event, or if this was two different events. On the one hand, the scripture says that Jesus went up the mountain to pray, and then came down to, in Greek, “a flat place,” which could mean a relatively flat part of the terrain, but still an elevated place. On the other hand, Jesus, like many public speakers, may have given the same or similar message a number of times to different audiences, and so this in Luke might be a different occasion than in Matthew. Since the Holy Spirit doesn’t make it clear, it’s not an important question. What’s important is what the Gospels say, and even how they compare. For one, Matthew speaks in the third person, “Blessed are they who…” and Luke speaks in the second person, “Blessed are you who…” Matthew only has blessings, he doesn’t include curses. But the blessings, like here in Luke, are not what you would expect. And while Matthew has 8 blessings, Luke has 4 blessings and 4 curses. And lastly (of the ones we’re going to mention), Luke’s are stated more simply. Matthew says, “Blessed are the poor in spirit,” while Luke simply says, “Blessed are you who are poor.” In both cases, Jesus is being presented as a new law-giver, a new David, and new Moses.

A lot of people don’t like Luke’s version, because in its simplicity, it’s kind of harsh. Sure, blessed are the poor in spirit, we can all strive to be “poor in spirit.” But in Luke, it’s simply “Blessed are you who are poor,” and then he says, “But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation.” Wow. Ok. “Blessed are you who are now hungry, for you will be satisfied.” That’s comforting. “Woe to you who are filled now, for you will be hungry.” How does that big breakfast sound now? “Woe to you who laugh now, for you will grieve and weep. Woe to you when all speak well of you, for their ancestors treated the false prophets in this way.” So we also need to understand what Jesus meant, and what situation Luke was addressing his Gospel to.

Jesus was speaking to Jews who knew the Old Testament, and in the covenant-making, law-giving ceremonies, the blessings and curses depended on whether you followed the terms of the covenant. If you did, you received the blessings of lots of children, lots of livestock, lots of wealth and happiness. If you didn’t, you got the curses, the opposite of all that. And that, the blessings and curses, were received here in this life.

In the new covenant, Jesus orients us toward the next life, toward heaven. And the way to heaven… is through the paradox of the cross. Jesus was the perfect, most blessed man, and on the cross he endured the most egregious suffering for sin, although, not for his own sin, but ours. And then he resurrected. His hour of glory, his time on the cross when he poured out his love for us, was the way to the resurrection and eternal glory. “No cross, no crown.” You have to go through the tension of Good Friday to get to the release of Easter Sunday. And we follow him. “Blessed are you who are poor in this world. The kingdom of God is yours” in heaven. “Blessed are you who are now hungry, for you will be satisfied” fully in heaven. “Blessed are you who are now weeping, for you will laugh” in heaven. But woe to you who do not follow Christ in this world, in his suffering and sacrifice. Woe to you who rely on your wealth, for they make you feel self-sufficient and not in need of God’s mercy. And so you have received the consolation of your riches, in this world. Woe to you who are filled and sated and gluttonous in this world, which deafens your ears to the cry of the poor. At judgment, they will have plenty, and you will be hungry. Woe to you who laugh now, woe to you when all speak well of you, because you are of this world and like this world. When the shallow images of this world pass away, and you did not weep for your sins, and you did not endure hardship for the sake of the gospel, you will grieve and weep.

In the Beatitudes, the law of the Christian Covenant, the blessings are curse-like (in the view of this present world), because it is through the curse and suffering of the cross that we receive the blessing and happiness of resurrection glory. Jesus on the cross is the intersection of this world and the next world, judgment, heaven and hell. If we suffer like him and for him, and for the vulnerable members of his mystical body, then we will enter the kingdom of God. But if we have lived according to the immorality of this world, the pleasure and sins of this world, did what was popular, and complacently avoided the suffering that would come from being a heroic and prophetic witness to the gospel, then we will be locked out of the kingdom of God.

It’s not that laughing is sinful: laughing is joyful, and we are called to joy. It’s not that being rich is sinful: we are called to be blessed with abundance from living virtuously, and with prudent stewardship. But our laughing must frequently give way to suffering with those who are suffering, and working with compassion to minister to them in their suffering, and ultimately to help them out of their suffering, if possible. Now, there indeed might be some limited fulfillment in this life: those who suffer now may be vindicated, even in this world (e.g., Nelson Mandela freed from prison, and Jews freed from their concentration camps). Those who are poor do often get out of their poverty. The Israelites in slavery were eventually freed, in the course of history. But even that is a limited fulfillment of the deliverance to the perfect freedom, the perfect abundance, in heaven. 

It’s not that being rich is a sin, Jesus in his ministry had rich people among his disciples. But having wealth presents some real challenges in the spiritual life. For one, having wealth provides the temptation to lean on one’s wealth to solve their problems, and not having to suffer and trust in God’s mercy (that was Israel’s problem in Jeremiah’s time). Also, having wealth tends to siphon our attention toward itself and away from more important priorities in our life (hence the evangelical counsel of poverty, or simplicity of life: the freedom from the trappings of material wealth, to focus on spiritual matters). And there is an increased temptation toward being uncompassionate toward the poor (“I deserve this, I worked hard, I sacrificed, I invested, I deserve this, that is fair” instead of “love your neighbor as yourself,” not in a compulsory socialist or communist way, but in a voluntarily generous way). It’s a self-centeredness rather than other-centeredness. Jesus was spiritually rich, yet he became poor to share his richness with us, and lift us up out of our spiritual poverty. (J. K. Rowling, the author of the Harry Potter series, is the only modern billionaire who lost her billionaire-status because of how much she has donated to others). So again, it’s not that it’s wrong to be rich; it’s dangerous to be rich. There’s a lot more that can go wrong with our spiritual life. If you want the best chance for salvation, the only thing that really matters, then it’s better (blessed) to be poor than to be rich. It’s better to be weeping than to be happy. It’s better to be hungry than to be satisfied. It’s better to have an all-encompassing desire for the fullness of heaven than to be satisfied in this life, and think less about heaven. 

One of the major characteristics of Luke’s gospel is the reversal of expectations, very much like this “Sermon on the Plain,” and also very much like the Canticle of Mary, the Magnificat: “…He has thrown down the rulers from their thrones but lifted up the lowly. The hungry he has filled with good things; the rich he has sent away empty…” Luke’s target audience were affluent gentile Christians, who frequently had difficulty escaping the trappings of their affluence to identify with the poor, to minister generously and humbly to the poor and suffering. And so for the sake of their salvation, Luke highlights this aspect of Jesus’ ministry. 

An interesting linguistic point is that Jesus’ main word in these blessings, in the Greek, is not really “blessed,” eulogēmenos, but rather makarios: “happy.” And this parallels Psalm 1. The usual word for blessing in Hebrew is barak. But in the psalm, it is ashar, “happy.” Following God’s law (the Beatitudes, the moral teaching of the New Testament, and of the Church) is the path to happiness. It isn’t necessarily the path to pleasure, and indeed might bring about quite a lot of suffering (like crucifixion), but we are made for happiness (ultimately, the happiness of heaven), and suffering is often the way to happiness. That requires discipline, which involves one of my recently-acquired favorite quotes, “Discipline is choosing what you want most over what you want now.” If what we want most is eternal happiness, then we have to choose now those things that advance us toward that, and choose against those things which are inconsistent with it, such as many of the ways we pursue a shadow of happiness through immoral pleasures. Sin never really brings happiness, because the little bit of happiness from sin always carries with it a greater unhappiness. And sin, of course is addictive. So we get hooked on that little bit of apparent happiness, and end up getting buried under the burden of the greater unhappiness that comes with it. 

The second reading doesn’t usually relate to the other readings, but today, in a way it does. St. Paul says to the Corinthians, “How can some among you say there is no resurrection of the dead? If the dead are not raised, neither has Christ been raised, and if Christ has not been raised, your faith is vain; you are still in your sins.” The crucifixion and the resurrection are the key to the beatitudes. They are the key to unlock the paradox of human suffering. We unite ourselves to Christ who suffered and died and rose again. But if he didn’t rise again,  we’re locked in the paradox of endless meaningless suffering and sin. Our upward possibilities are blocked off without hope.

But Paul (who was given his personal encounter with the post-ascension risen Christ) knows first-hand that Christ most certainly is alive, he did rise from the dead, because Paul met him. Paul clearly affirms for us: “But now Christ has been raised from the dead.” We are free, we are saved, we can outlive our suffering, sometimes in this life, but definitively in heaven, where you who are poor are blessed with the kingdom of heaven; where you who are now hungry will be satisfied; where you who are weeping will laugh; where you are hated and denounced (for your prophetic witness) on account of the Son of Man can rejoice and leap for joy, for your reward will be great in heaven.

I asked God for strength, that I might achieve.
I was made weak, that I might learn humbly to obey.

I asked for health, that I might do great things.
I was given infirmity, that I might do better things

I asked for riches, that I might be happy.
I was given poverty, that I might be wise.

I asked for power, that I might have the praise of men.
I was given weakness, that I might feel the need of God.

I asked for all things that I might enjoy life.
I was given life, that I might enjoy all things.

I got nothing I asked for – but everything I had hoped for.
Almost despite myself, my unspoken words were answered.
I am, among men, most richly blessed.

(attributed to an unknown Confederate soldier)

Last week, in the first reading, we heard the call from God to the prophet Jeremiah. The last two weeks in the gospel we heard Jesus speak about his call to be the Messiah. This week, we hear of two other calls. In our first reading, the call from God to the prophet Isaiah; and in the Gospel, the call to Simon, who Jesus will later give the new name, Peter. So in this weekend’s readings in particular, and here in the beginning of the season of Ordinary Time in general, we’re getting a sense of vocation (being called) and mission (being sent). It applies not just to men called to priesthood or those called to religious orders. It applies to all humanity. Every person conceived in the womb has their own unique call from God to their own unique life, with their own unique personality and gifts. Not one human soul is extra and unimportant. Not one. Every soul, every day, is here for a reason, even if we struggle to see, or understand it, or believe it.

In our gospel and in our first reading, we have two accounts of God calling someone to ministry. What’s important in the parallel between Isaiah and Peter is not that they experience the same steps—but that they experienced the same steps that we often experience when we have a divine encounter.

Just FYI, for those who are available, a few weeks ago we began offering a holy hour of Eucharistic Adoration at noon every Friday, a wonderful opportunity for divine encounter. No prayers, no readings, no homilies. Just you gazing with love at the Lord, and the Lord gazing with love at you. It’s certainly helped me in the last few weeks. So if you’re available at noon on Friday’s, the day of the Lord gave himself to us for our salvation, I encourage you to plan to come here for the divine encounter in Eucharistic Adoration.

So the encounter. The first step is always God making the first move. He’s always reaching out to us, and sometimes we pick up on it (even we think we’re making the choice to do something good, like our choice to go to God, it’s really us finally responding to his grace). So God gave Isaiah this mystic encounter in which he saw the divine throne room, and the worship of God by the heavenly host. “I saw the Lord seated on a high and lofty throne, with the train of his garment filling the temple. Seraphim were stationed above. They cried one to the other, ‘Holy, holy, holy is the LORD of hosts! All the earth is filled with his glory!’ At the sound of that cry, the frame of the door shook and the house was filled with smoke.” The image is of a king high above any earthly king, wearing not just an impressively regal garment, but so impressive it filled the temple. The Seraphim (or Seraphs) are the highest rank of angels, those closest to God. “Seraph” means “burning one” and in Hebrew, the “-im” ending is plural. So the Seraphim are the angels most intensely burning with God’s love, being the closest to his glory. They are so filled with awe at God’s majesty and burning love that they ceaselessly sing out, “Holy, holy, holy is the LORD of hosts!” (The Hebrew language lacks comparison and superlative modifiers, so the word is repeated to achieve this effect. “Holy, holy, holy” equals “holy, holier, holiest!”) We join our singing to theirs at every Mass, hopefully out of awe, and not just out of routine. The choir of angels sang with such vigor that the temple shook. And the house, the temple, was filled with smoke, which can be said to be the incense used in the Temple, and in the Mass, which is used to signify something consecrated as holy, such as the offerings on the altar, the Paschal candle, or a body before burial. Incense, as described in the Book of Revelation, also signifies the rising prayer of the saints. So Isaiah sees all this glory.

Simon Peter’s encounter was not a mystic vision of heaven, but this strange carpenter getting into Simon’s fishing boat, and telling him how to catch fish, which was not how you catch fish. You catch fish at night, near the shore, not during the day, out in the deep.

On a human level, this is a test for Simon. Simon and Andrew run a fishing business. Zebedee and his sons James and John are co-workers in this business. They’re professionals, who know what they’re doing. Jesus, on the other hand, is a tekton, a carpenter, a builder. And as a general rule, fishermen do not like carpenters telling them how to fish. These fishermen have done everything they knew to do, they fished all night, it’s now morning, they’re tired, they’re frustrated from having caught nothing, and then this carpenter comes along and says, “Well, hey, did you try the deep water? Go out into the deep water and try and put your nets down and see what happens.” It’s a real test. Yet Simon tells Jesus, “Master, we have worked hard all night and have caught nothing, but at your command I will lower the nets.”

But Jesus had this big crowd following him. Simon, and his brother Andrew, and their co-workers James and his brother John, heard what Jesus was preaching. So when Jesus told Simon to go out to the deep and cast their net, he obeyed. And after not having caught anything all night, they filled two boats to almost sinking. Simon recognized that Jesus had performed this miracle, and that only God could have summoned such a quantity of fish to where there should not have been any. So Simon recognizes that Jesus is not just a strange carpenter, but the God of Israel.

On a deeper level, the ancient Church Fathers saw a spiritual significance in the fact that Christ teaches from the boat of Simon Peter. It’s Peter’s Boat—the “bark of Peter” (“bark” is an old word for a boat). They saw in this the mystery of the ministry of Jesus through the successor of Peter in the life of the Church. The “Bark of Peter” is an ancient nickname of the Church. The successor of Peter (the Vicar of Christ) would teach the world from the Bark of Peter, and he would navigate the Church through the sometimes stormy waters of the ages. (Read St. John Bosco’s prophetic vision of the Bark of Peter anchored safely between the two columns, protecting it against the attacks of its enemies!) That’s part of the tradition for calling the main area of a Catholic church where the pews are the “nave.” According to Wikipedia, “The term nave is from navis, the Latin word for ship, an early Christian symbol of the Church as a whole, with a possible connection to the “ship of St. Peter” or the Ark of Noah. The term may also have been suggested by the keel shape of the vaulting of a church. In many Scandinavian and Baltic countries a model ship is commonly found hanging in the nave of a church…“

Ok, second step. In the presence of the glory of God, the creator of the universe, the savior of Israel, the God of all majesty, wisdom, and holy glory, Isaiah and Simon become self-conscious of their unworthiness, their sinfulness, their imperfection. That’s the second step: humility, contrition, repentance. Isaiah says, “Woe is me, I am doomed! For I am a man of unclean lips, living among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts!” The lips speak what is in the heart, and so he weeps for the uncleanness of his heart, and the unclean hearts of the people of Israel. He is filled with fear because no sinner can behold God face to face. Simon Peter says, “Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.” We don’t know what sinfulness Simon is guilty of, but in its place, we can put whatever sinfulness we might be guilty of, whatever we’re ashamed of, if we were to come into an encounter with God who can read and reveal the thoughts of our hearts. This repentance should be our second step. Often we think of the Church, and we are faced with the sorry state of our moral life. Often our way of dealing with this tension is then to stay away from Church (like Adam and Eve recognizing their shame, and hiding from God in the garden of Eden). But our response should be humble contrition and confession. It’s our choice how to respond to the tension, to the disconnect between God’s holiness and our sinfulness: we can choose to turn toward God in repentance, or away from God preferring our comfortable sins. Isaiah and Peter are afraid, not because they love their sins more than God, but because they become super-aware of their sin in God’s presence.

The third step is God’s mercy. Isaiah says, “Then one of the seraphim flew to me, holding an ember that he had taken with tongs from the altar. He touched my mouth with it, and said, ‘See, now that this has touched your lips, your wickedness is removed, your sin purged.’” Now it should be clear that we’re not talking about an actual piece of charcoal. We are speaking in figures of spiritual/mystical realities. So the fire of God’s love, and of the Seraphim, is spiritual fire. And this coal is a figure of cleansing, purifying fire of the altar of prayer; and he takes it and places it on Isaiah’s lips and says “your sins are forgiven.” In a way, this burning ember is like a prefigurement of the Eucharist, which when it is taken from the holy altar and touches our lips, it removes our wickedness and purges our sin (that applies to venial sin—not mortal sin, by which we cut ourselves off from God’s grace; for that we are obligated to go to the particular sacrament given to us by God to reconcile ourselves with Him after committing mortal/deadly sin). But for the venial sins we commit every day, our frequent failures to follow the promptings of our conscience and God’s will, the grace and healing of the Mass give us this mercy. Receiving the Eucharist is a share in the burning love of the Sacred Heart of our Lord. As for Simon, Jesus simply said to Simon, “Do not be afraid.” He doesn’t say, no, it’s ok, your sins aren’t a big deal, you’re basically a good person. Jesus accepts Simons’ confession, and moves him through it.

God is not repelled by our sinfulness. His response is not disgust, but compassion. A parent who sees that his child is wounded is not disgusted and wrathful toward his child, but reaches out in tenderness and love, to give, within his power, comfort and healing. When we sin, we become tangled in that sin. God wants us to be free. But the way to free us from sin is not just to dismiss our sin, but to train us not to choose sin. And being trained, getting disciplined, is not fun, as the author of the Letter to the Hebrews confirms (Heb 12:11). This disciplining can feel like God being wrathful against us, when it is really our pulling away from God’s love trying to heal us. God’s wrath is really God’s love, as experienced through sin. God only loves. But when we’re on the discipline-end of that love, God doesn’t mind using tough love, if that’s what he knows will ultimately help us… even if He knows we’ll be angry at Him for a while. 

And lastly the fourth step: commission, vocation. “Jesus said to Simon, ‘Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching men.’ When they brought their boats to the shore, they left everything and followed him.” When we read other gospel accounts of this event, like Matthew’s, where Jesus just says “Follow me,” and we wonder why they just get up and go, here Luke gives a much fuller version of the encounter. It makes more sense after reading Luke’s gospel why these first disciples left everything and followed him. Jesus gave them reason to believe in him. Then he called them. And over time, he will teach them, form them, and ultimately, send them, to continue his ministry and lead the church.

As Brant Pitre points out, an interesting aspect of the Lord choosing fishermen to be the core of his disciples, is that professional fishermen would need to have cultivated certain virtues in their character that would be essential in their future ministry. First, the need to be observant. They need to pay attention to their surroundings, to conditions, to weather, to patterns. Second, the need to be patient. Fishing involves long times of nothing happening, at least by appearances. Fishermen can’t just pull up their equipment and move every time they get impatient. Third, the need to be persistent. Sometimes, you’re going to fish all night and not catch anything. Sometimes, there might be a rough season. But a fisherman needs to keep at it, keep learning, keep applying what he knows, and not give up. And finally, the need to rely on God. There’s a lot about being a fisherman that’s just out of the fisherman’s control. Weather, storms, safety, the fish biting, the nets not breaking, the market being good, there’s just a lot that the fisherman needs, that only trust in God will provide. 

In the Gospel of Matthew (remember, we’re in Luke), Jesus will compare this image of Peter’s great catch of fish to the Kingdom of Heaven: “Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a net which was thrown into the sea and gathered fish of every kind; when it was full, men drew it ashore and sat down and sorted the good into vessels but threw away the bad. So it will be at the close of the age. The angels will come out and separate the evil from the righteous, and throw them into the furnace of fire; there men will weep and gnash their teeth” (Matt. 13:47-50). In this image, Jesus affirms that many fish of different kinds, good and bad, are caught in the “net” of Peter’s boat, the Church. And, as Jesus reaffirms in another image, that of the wheat and the tares, the good and the bad will remain together in the church until the end of the age. 

Fr. Cantalamessa, the preacher of the papal household, makes the point that people might find this image a little insulting. No one likes to be fished for. Ordinarily, the fisherman is after his own good, not that of the fish. But in the Gospel, we find the opposite: the fisherman who serves the fish. Being “fished for” is not a disgrace, but for salvation. Imagine, he says, that you have survived a shipwreck, and you are floating in the sea, hoping to be rescued. Along comes a rescue helicopter, and fishes you out of the sea, saving you from death. You’re not insulted, you’re filled with inexpressible gratitude! 

And he also makes the point that this is not to put those who are in the role of fishermen in a superior position to those who are in the role of fish. Because every fisherman, every priest, religious, and faithful, are themselves also fish, who the Lord fished for many times before bringing them in. 

Isaiah said, “Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, ‘Whom shall I send?  Who will go for us?’ ‘Here I am,’ I said; ‘send me!’” Isaiah, too, was not told that his sins were no big deal, but rather he was humble, confessed his sinfulness, and God’s response was to forgive his sins. And in both cases, of Simon Peter, and Isaiah, and in our case, the forgiveness of our sins is not just for our salvation, but for our mission, our being trained in the way of holiness, that we might respond to the invitation to be sent out. The dismissal of the Mass in English is, “The Mass is ended, go in peace.” But in Latin, the dismissal is, “Ite! Missa est!” “Ite” is the command to “Go!” And “Missa est” is the statement, “it is sent,” meaning the liturgy, the congregation, is sent out, to carry the grace of God’s love into the world.

(1) God comes to us in his glory. (2) We see our sinfulness and we humbly repent. (3) We receive God’s forgiveness. And (4) we are sent to minister to others. I read recently that spreading the gospel is just one beggar sharing with another beggar where to find bread. We can see in Isaiah’s response that having been healed and freed from sin, he shows an eagerness to share the good news, to invite others into God’s mercy. Let us take ownership of our mission to share the good news in our ministry to others—in our words, our actions, our life—for the glory of God, and the salvation of souls.

The Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King, Jr. wrote a letter now famously called, “Letter from a Birmingham Jail” (which I highly recommend). In the letter he responds to different criticisms he received from various local Christian ministers about the resistance demonstrations he orchestrated.

To the criticism that he is from Atlanta, Georgia, and has no business as an outsider protesting in Birmingham, Alabama, he confirms that first, as president of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, which has ties all over the South, including Birmingham, he was invited to come by the black community there. And second, he says we can no longer think in terms of isolated communities, since all of society is interconnected, and that “injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” Therefore even as a so-called outsider, he has a vested interest and right to stand against injustice, even in Birmingham.

To the second criticism, that he should be promoting negotiation instead of sit-ins and marches, he responds that yes, he absolutely agrees. But those invited to dialogue have failed to negotiate in good faith, either refusing to come to the table, or consistently failing to carry through on their agreements, and those suffering injustice have concluded that negotiation has sufficiently failed.

And third, he responds to criticism that his activity is extremist. And to that, he responds that he is standing between two opposing responses within the suffering black community: on the one hand, the “do nothings” of those so used to things as they are that they’ve lost their hope for change, or those who have enjoyed a bit of prosperity and have not advocated on behalf of those they left behind, and on the other hand, those who have given up on the current social and political system and are angry and ready for violence. He says, “I have tried to stand between these two forces, saying that we need emulate neither the ‘do nothingism’ of the complacent nor the hatred and despair of the black nationalist. For there is the more excellent way of love and nonviolent protest… So I have not said to my people: ‘Get rid of your discontent.’ Rather, I have tried to say that this normal and healthy discontent can be channeled into the creative outlet of nonviolent direct action.” King was a Christian leader, a prophetic voice in a time of tension, hope, and suffering. Like many prophets, he was not always well-received, especially by those comfortable with the injustice of the status quo. Like many prophets, he was killed for trying to change it.

In our gospel reading, we get the second half of the story of Jesus going to the synagogue in Nazareth. Last week we heard him read from the scroll of Isaiah of the anointing and ministry of the Messiah. Then Jesus follows this by telling them, “Today this Scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing.” Today we see their response.

At first, it was a positive response. “All spoke highly of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth.” Then it kind of begins to fall apart. “They also asked, ‘Isn’t this the son of Joseph?’” In other words, some of the crowd’s response was, “He’s claiming to be the Messiah?? Hmm. I doubt it, he’s just the kid of that carpenter Joseph. That’s all he is.”

Jesus picks up on their disbelief. “He said to them, ‘surely you will quote me this proverb, “Physician, cure yourself,” and say, “Do here in your native place the things that we heard were done in Capernaum.” Amen, I say to you, no prophet is accepted in his own native place.’” In other words, Jesus presses on their lack of faith. They will tell him, “You healed strangers in Capernaum, so now heal your own flesh and blood here in your home town. And then we’ll believe you’re more than just a carpenter’s son.”

Jesus instead replies with two well-known Old Testament references. We recently had the story of the Widow of Zarephath (1 Kings 17:8-16), a poor pagan woman gathering sticks at the city gates to prepare her last meal, when the prophet Elijah gave her the miracle of the flour and oil that didn’t run out for a year, until the famine was over. And we’ll hear later this year the story of Naaman (2 Kings 5:1-14), a pagan general in the army of one of Israel’s neighbors, who was cured of leprosy by the prophet Elisha.

Jesus is saying to his audience in Nazareth that in those times, Israel was wicked and faithless, and so God didn’t work His miracles for his people Israel, but instead sent his prophets to work miracles for the pagan nations. And now, he says to his audience, the promised Messiah is here among you, and you also are wicked and faithless, and so the working of miracles is withheld from you, and extended to strangers who actually have the faith you lack. And so yeah, the people got rather angry with Jesus at that point.

When we see Jesus get angry like this, and offends people, we need to remember that Jesus is the living love of God. He loved the stubborn people of Nazareth with divine love, but they frustrated him because they were not open to receive the love that God wants to give them. Jesus destabilized the routine of the status quo. He was introducing a new thing that was different and better than the world as they’ve known it. But they preferred the way it’s always been done, and they resisted Jesus’ desire to open them up to God’s healing grace and forgiveness. They were too stuck to turn away from the sin and corruption of the status quo.

Several scripture commentators remark that here at the beginning of his earthly ministry, Jesus says to the people, “Surely you will quote me this proverb, ‘Physician, cure yourself.'” And at the end of his earthly ministry, as Jesus is dying on the cross, the people say to Jesus, “(If you are the) Son of God, save yourself!“

At the end of today’s gospel reading, it says, “They rose up, drove him out of the town, and led him to the brow of the hill on which their town had been built, to hurl him down headlong. But Jesus passed through the midst of them and went away.” Saint Ambrose (the teacher of St. Augustine), provides his explanation: “Understand that [Jesus] was not forced to suffer the passion of his body. He was not taken by the Jews but given by himself. Indeed, he is taken when he wants to be. He glides away when he wants to. He is hung when he wants to be. He is not held when he does not wish it. Here he goes up to the summit of the hill to be thrown down. But, behold, the minds of the furious men were suddenly changed or confused. He descended through their midst, for the hour of his passion had not yet come. He passes through the midst of them.“

The kind of rejection that Jesus receives for his prophetic mission as the Messiah, first here in Nazareth, and then all throughout his ministry, is foreshadowed first by the Old Testament prophet Jeremiah. And our first reading is the calling of Jeremiah. “The word of the LORD came to me, saying: Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I dedicated you.”

A bit off topic, but that’s a very important scripture verse for pro-life advocacy. God creates a person in the womb, with His plan for that person, that person’s unique set of gifts, and with His intimate love for that person. And if we are to be God’s people, we must protect the life of that person, as our brother or sister, a child of God like ourselves, with infinite dignity, and a right to live out their days until God calls them from this life to Himself.

“But gird your loins; stand up and tell them all that I command you… for I have made you… a pillar of iron, a wall of brass… against Judah’s kings and princes, against its priests and people. They will fight against you but not prevail over you, for I am with you to deliver you, says the LORD.” Jeremiah’s ministry as prophet was one of hardships, of opposition, and suffering. He was called to chastise a people who were not going to listen to him, but punish him for trying to correct their corruption and sin. He was called to bring them back to faith in God and the blessings of the covenant, but they would reject him. But he remained faithful, and God brought him consolations.

Fr. Tony Kadavil describes this call to Jeremiah by showing how God makes four assertions: “I formed you” (as a potter forms clay), “I knew you” (referring to the intimate relationship between God and Jeremiah), “I dedicated you” (consecrating Jeremiah to do God’s work), and “I appointed you” (to a mission as His prophet to Israel). At the start of Jeremiah’s ministry, God warns the young prophet not to be intimidated by those to whom he prophesies. “They will fight against you,” God warns, “but will not prevail over you, for I am with you to deliver you.” During his lifetime, Jeremiah was considered a total failure, but in later times he has been recognized as one of Israel’s greatest prophets.

Dr. John Bergsma draws a good number of connections between the life of the prophet Jeremiah, and the life of Jesus, much which also fits the description of Isaiah’s mysterious Suffering Servant (e.g, Isa 52:13-53:12):

1. chosen from the womb (Jer 1:5; Lk 1:31);
2. destined for rejection and conflict with their people (Jer 1:18-19; Lk 2:34-35),
3. called to celibacy (Jer 16:1-4; Mt 19:10-12),
4. likened to a sacrificial lamb (Jer 11:19; Jn 1:29,36),
5. betrayed by those closest to him (Jer 12:6; Jn 13:18,38 etc.)
6. preached against the Temple and predicted its destruction (Jer 26:2-6; Mk 11:15-19, 13:1-2)
7. opposed and persecuted by the chief priests for doing so (Jer 20:1-3; 26:7-9; Mk 11:18)
8. condemned to death for doing so (Jer 26:8-9; Mk 14:57-58)
9. tried by a vacillating, partly sympathetic, yet weak-willed civil magistrate (Jer 37:16-38:28; Jn 18:28–19:16)
10. cast into a pit and raised up from it again (Jer 37:6-13; Jn 19:40–20:18).

This call to be “a pillar of iron, a wall of brass” does not mean that we can become hardened and callous in our mission. That’s what makes it even more difficult: Even though we will be attacked with (and ourselves accused of) injustice, our vocation is to continue to love, to appeal, to earnestly desire the conversion and salvation of those who oppose us.

Again, from Dr. Bergsma:

The reality of sin in human society means that the quest to be like God, to do the good, to attain holiness, will inevitably lead to conflict with others who are not on that quest.  Our Lord taught us so in his most famous sermon:

Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.  Blessed are you when men revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account.  Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for so men persecuted the prophets who were before you. (Matt 5:10-12)

That is usually the life of a prophet. Like the opposition experienced by Jesus. And like the opposition that Jesus promised would be experienced by his prophetic people who deny themselves, pick up their crosses, and follow him—People who weep when the world applauds. People who give generously when the world hordes. People who lay down their lives for truth, when the world kills for power and pleasure.

Why would we do that? What is it that marks the people of God as different than the world?

“Faith, hope, and love, and the greatest of these is love.”

In the second readings of the last few weeks, St. Paul has been teaching about the essence of Christian community, how it is a body, which needs all its members to work together in love, to care for one another, and generously share their gifts. In this beautiful chapter today, Paul teaches the community how each member (and how the community) is to know they’re using their gifts in the right way. We can have wonderful talents, we can have wealth, intellect, faith, generosity. But if our gifts (our charismata, as Paul says in the Greek) are not put at the service of love poured out for God and one another, it’s all for nothing.

The Corinthian community was being torn apart by their boasting of their gifts (tongues, prophecy, knowledge, faith, etc.), and here Paul puts them all rightly at the service of the one gift that gives them meaning, and without which they are wasted. But worse still, if they become a source of pride and rivalry, what a sinful betrayal of God’s gifts!

“If I speak in human and angelic tongues, but do not have love, I am a resounding gong or a clashing cymbal. And if I have the gift of prophecy, and comprehend all mysteries and all knowledge; if I have all faith so as to move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give away everything I own, and if I hand my body over so that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.”

Paul then describes love. Like the Beatitudes that Our Lord gives us in the Sermon on the Mount, Paul’s description of love is really an image of Christ, a portrait in words.

“Love is patient, love is kind. It is not jealous, it is not pompous, it is not inflated, it is not rude, it does not seek its own interests, it is not quick-tempered, it does not brood over injury, it does not rejoice over wrongdoing but rejoices with the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails.”

Of course, this is a very popular and trendy reading for weddings, because it uses the word “love” over and over, and is a beautiful poem. But (hopefully) more importantly, it inspires couples to apply these attributes to their own love for one another; building up their dependence on grace to purify their wavering, imperfect, human love into enduring, perfect, divine love.

From a homily on this reading by Father Raniero Cantalamessa, O.F.M. Cap., the Preacher to the Papal Household:

Paul’s message is quite relevant today. The entertainment and advertising worlds seem bent on inculcating in young people that love is reducible to “eros” and that “eros” is reducible to sex. Life is presented as a continual idol in a world where everything is beautiful, young, and healthy… But this is a colossal lie that generates unrealistic expectations, which, once they are not met, provoke frustration…

In the love between a husband and wife “eros” prevails at the beginning, attraction, reciprocal desire, the conquering of the other, and so a certain egoism. If this love does not make an effort to enrich itself along the way with a new dimension, one of gratuity, of reciprocal tenderness, of a capacity to forget oneself for the other, and to project itself into children, we all know how it will end.

Because Paul’s description is an image of Christ, it should also be an image of every Christian who follows him. Because in the end, it is only generous divine love accepted into our hearts and poured out into our lives that matters.

“If there are prophecies, they will be brought to nothing; if tongues, they will cease; if knowledge, it will be brought to nothing. For we know partially and we prophesy  partially, but when the perfect comes, the partial will pass away. When I was a child, I used to talk as a child, think as a child, reason as a child; when I became a man, I put aside childish things. At present we see indistinctly, as in a mirror, but then face to face.
At present I know partially; then I shall know fully, as I am fully known.”

In the end, there will be no prophesies: all will be revealed. There will be no tongues: we will understand one another without difficulty. When we enter into God’s presence, we will see the triviality of worldly concerns. As God knows us in perfect light and truth, our partial light and truth will be perfected in Him, and we will behold Him (and one another, and ourselves, as we really are) in His perfect light and truth.

Christ loved his enemies and persecutors, and so must we. Christ loved sinners and the poor, and so must we. Because of his love, Christ suffered rejection, ridicule, injustice, and even death, and so must we.

Rev. Dr. King, in his last Christmas sermon (1967) before his assassination, puts this all in terms of his ministry against the racial tension, injustice, and violence of his time. It is an incredible call to how Christians must respond, to truly be a witness to the image of Christ, the living love of God, in our lives.

“I’ve seen too much hate to want to hate, myself, and every time I see it, I say to myself, hate is too great a burden to bear. Somehow we must be able to stand up against our most bitter opponents and say: ‘We shall match your capacity to inflict suffering by our capacity to endure suffering. We will meet your physical force with soul force. Do to us what you will, and we will still love you. We cannot in all good conscience obey your unjust laws and abide by the unjust system, because non-cooperation with evil is as much a moral obligation as is cooperation with good, so throw us in jail and we will still love you. Bomb our homes and threaten our children, and, as difficult as it is, we will still love you. Send your hooded perpetrators of violence into our communities at the midnight hour and drag us out on some wayside road and leave us half-dead as you beat us, and we will still love you. Send your propaganda agents around the country and make it appear that we are not fit, culturally and otherwise, for integration, but we’ll still love you. But be assured that we’ll wear you down by our capacity to suffer, and one day we will win our freedom. We will not only win freedom for ourselves; we will appeal to your heart and conscience so that we will win you in the process, and our victory will be a double victory.'”