by f. Luis Casasús, General Superior of the Idente Missionaries,
New York, February 10, 2019. Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time.
Book of Isaiah 6,1-2a.3-8; 1 Corinthians 15,1-11; Saint Luke 5,1-11.
* Prayer, no matter how you define it, always involves a loving encounter between God and you in which you become aware of who you are and who your neighbor is.
* These encounters have as a consequence a new mission, a new form of seeing and treating others.
* And the most puzzling thing is that all this usually happens when we least expect it and in the most unexpected way.
1. Today’s encounters with God.
The prophet Isaiah says today that his encounter experience was concrete and historical: In the year of King Uzziah’s death I saw the Lord God…, What a wretched state I am in! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips…
Similarly, Saint Paul declares: After that he appeared to James, then to all the apostles. Last of all, as to one born abnormally, he appeared to me.
Finally, faced with that overwhelming presence of God in the person of Jesus, Simon blurts out: Leave me, Lord; I am a sinful man.
This is a universal pattern. Job cries out: I have heard of You by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees You. Therefore, I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes (Job 42: 5-6).
The experience of God reveals to me my hidden weaknesses. They are brought to light and I am inclined to shy away from that light. This illustrates the meaning of mystical Abhorrence of myself and of God. This is not a temptation, but a painful purification: my good deeds are not enough, my love is not yet Christ’s love. Your presence demands something from me. And I am not ready for this, not yet.
This self-knowledge is only possible in an encounter with God and it calls for humility, not discouragement, because He is sending me the message: Do not be afraid. I am going to walk with you. I am going to give you a new light to see all the events in your life. And this is what we call Inspiration, a deep form of union with the Most Holy Trinity.
But this is not only a matter of knowledge, this purification gives me the strength to own up my true self. This is what we hear from St Paul in the Second Reading: For I am the least of the apostles and am not really fit to be called an apostle… We are really transformed: Saul becomes Paul (Acts 13:9), Simon becomes Peter (Mt 16:18). This transformation is the work of the Holy Spirit: …but what I am now, I am through the grace of God, and the grace which was given to me has not been wasted. Indeed, I have worked harder than all the others; not I, but the grace of God which is with me.
Peter’s spontaneous reaction was to say: Leave me, Lord, I am a sinful man. And Jesus totally ignores it. He does not say: Oh no, you are not… because he was. He simply ignores it; that would be something they could work on together later.
The necessary changes in my moral life will only be possible when I will realize that all my thoughts, desires, words, deeds and omissions affect my neighbors, for the better or for the worse. And the other element of this awakening is to see every human being as the most valuable treasure entrusted to me by God.
The Greek young man Damon once asked the Delphic oracle: Who has the greatest treasure on earth? Where can it be found? The god’s answer was: You have possessed it for a long time. You will find it before your door. He hurries home and finds his friend Pythias standing there. My dear friend, he says, the greatest treasure is here. Come in a hurry. Half of it belongs to you! They dig everywhere deep into the night. No treasure appears. Finally, Damon throws down his shovel and exclaims: What an idiot am I! He embraces Pythias and says: You are the greatest treasure. Could I want more?
2. Consequently, God sends us forth as fishers of men. When we discover who our neighbor really is, we change our behavior radically. While walking at Balmoral, Queen Victoria of England got caught in the rain. Calling at a cottage, she was grudgingly offered a worn-out umbrella. She went on her way and the next day a personal assistant in a splendid coach returned the umbrella. As the personal assistant left, he heard the owner say: If I had known who she was, she could have had my best umbrella.
For example, when Jesus met blind Bartimaeus, the crowd think the poor man should be quiet. We probably would have too, the same way we interrupt those whose disturb or contradict us and avoid the troublesome ones. But Jesus does not see people like that: He see us all as the children of our Father in heaven. Even more, He asks the crowd to participate with him in a new way of seeing and treating others. Call him here, says Jesus. Bring him to me, that he might be healed of his blindness and that you might be healed of yours as well.
Peter had witnessed how Jesus healed his mother-in-law and many who were sick. But observation is not sufficient. He was not yet ready to be more than a disciple of Jesus. He saw the miracles, but was not converted from within, because it was not his personal conversion. Now, though he trembles, he is willing to put out into the deep. We are to take risks and Peter was invited to do just that. He was asked to go beyond discipleship, to be an apostle in the proclamation of the kingdom, knowing that it would not be his strength but the power of God. From that experience, he knew the Holy Spirit would work through him.
Authentic listening to God in prayer is similar to authentic listening to another person. If we stop, take a moment to focus and be aware of the other person and be truly open to them, we are well on our way to listening to what they have to say. In true listening we receive not only information, but an invitation to share sorrows and joys, projects and dreams. God calls us many times throughout our life trying to free us in order to love and be more available to others. Usually, He does not explain the details, but simply wants our wholehearted yes, because little do we know what are blessings on the other side of our obedience. The world says, seeing is believing. God says, believing is seeing.
Perhaps the following story might seem childish, but I think it sends the message we are talking about:
A man walked into a store and he found Christ behind the counter. He asked: What do you sell here? Christ replied: You name it. The man said: I want food for all, good health for kids, that there be peace between us, and abortion to cease. Gently Jesus answered: Friend, I do not sell finished products here, only seeds. You must plant them and water them. I will do the rest.
Am I missing God’s calls? He calls us when we are in pain, in happiness, in solitude, or with hundreds of people. God calls us many times a day, and oftentimes we miss those calls because we ignore them, intentionally or unintentionally. Sometimes we are just deaf to the call, but other times we try to ignore it.
Saint Peter teaches us today that there are two virtues we need to set us free from our deafness. The first is honesty. As long as we go on denying and rationalizing, we can never really hear. The second is humility. As long as we are arrogant and proud, we can never really accept who we really are and the pathetic situation we got ourselves in. Why did Peter call himself a sinful man, were it not for the fact that he was too presumptuous in his knowledge? Indeed, he came to the realization that human knowledge alone cannot grasp the mystery of life: For God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength (1 Cor 1:25).
God calls us to follow him today just as certainly as Jesus called Peter, James, John or Paul. His call to us is more than an invitation. His call throughout history is one of command; sometimes subtle and gentle and sometimes violent.
Let us dedicate our efforts to be aware of His concerns, His affliction. The answer to this state of prayer is a new level of filial consciousness that is more in tune with God’s ever-abiding love: we are heirs; we are entrusted with an always new mission. St Francis of Assisi heard the voice of God when the Lord spoke to him in a wooden crucifix. St Francis heard the words of Jesus: Francis, you see that my house is falling down; go and repair it for me. And Francis answered simply: Willingly, Lord. As usual, it was an emergency.
3. He calls us when we are up and when we are down. Then he carries us. God often calls us when we are running errands, doing the mundane chores of life, when we are in the midst of our daily routine. When we least expect it, we are required for a new mission.
Perhaps we are already truly working for Him and for His people. Yet, in spite of so much energy and time invested into it, we experience only opposition, failure, disappointment and frustration…and He calls us for a new mission…or to change the way we carry out our usual old mission: Throw the nets again!
Another times, God calls us when we are in the midst of our academic, professional, artistic, emotional, worldly successes.
He also calls us when we are tired and worn out and feeling not at all qualified. He calls us then, and he tells us not to fear. And then he fills the nets of our lives with more than enough fish to remind us that he will give us more than we need if we just trust in him and follow his calling. It might not be easy to follow Jesus. It might not be where we saw ourselves going. We might not be confident in our skills or our call all the time. But it is much harder to walk without hearing that call.
He calls us when we are sinners. And there is more: He wants our help in building the Kingdom. Matthew was collecting taxes for the Romans, the hated occupying power. Many people would have looked upon Matthew as a traitor to his own people. But Jesus calls him, not just to repent, but to become an apostle. Jesus does not wait until we are perfect to call us to a mission.
God calls us when we are in asleep. Jesus called Peter when he fell asleep in the garden of Gethsemane and Paul was called on the way to Damascus as he was asleep internally. When we are awakened to this call, we would realize our own call to profess our priestly nature.
God always bless our efforts to respond. Sometimes it is the blessing of holding the hand of a sick person. and sometimes it is the blessing of entering into another’s sadness and grief. Those blessings are indeed as great as a fisherman’s boat overflowing with fish. Most of times we only recognize some blessings in hindsight. They are graces, privileges, sometimes bathed in tears… but they are always there.
The Ecclesiastes says: Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might (9:10). Why should God show me his will for the future if I am not doing the will of God in the present?
We are conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware, and are providentially wrapped for us by God in what others may consider a small thing.
Please, enjoy the testimony of a former taxi driver:
The Cab Ride I’ll Never Forget. One time I arrived in the middle of the night for a pick up at a building that was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window. This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself. So I walked to the door and knocked. “Just a minute,” answered a frail, elderly voice. After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 80’s stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie. By her side was a small suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets.
“Would you carry my bag out to the car?” she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness. “Oh, you’re such a good boy,” she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, then asked, “Could you drive through downtown?” “It’s not the shortest way,” I answered quickly. “Oh, I don’t mind,” she said. “I’m in no hurry. I’m on my way to a hospice.” I looked in the rear view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. “I don’t have any family left,” she continued. “The doctor says I don’t have very long.” I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.
For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. Sometimes she’d ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing. As the orange sunrise light would start to show at the horizon, she suddenly said, “I’m tired. Let’s go now.” We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico. Two nurses came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her. I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair. “How much do I owe you?” she asked, reaching into her purse. “Nothing,” I said. “You have to make a living,” she answered. “There are other passengers.” Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly. “You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,” she said. “Thank you.” I squeezed her hand, then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.
I did not pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly, lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away? On a quick review, I don’t think that I have done anything more important in my life.
