Tenison Woods and MacKillop Centre News: The storm

They woke him and said to him, ‘Master, do you not care? We are going down!’ And he woke up and rebuked the wind and said to the sea, ‘Quiet now! Be calm!’ And the wind dropped, and all was calm again. Then he said to them, ‘Why are you so frightened? How is it that you have no faith?’ They were filled with awe and said to one another, ‘Who can this be? Even the wind and the sea obey him.’

Mark 4:39 - 41

Our daughter returned home some months ago, part of the process of decision-making. While we were, and are, genuinely sorry about the breakdown of her relationship, we are again privileged to be a part of her daily life.

The tempest that can be our lives throws up challenges that can make or break us, wound us or save us. And our worst enemy is fear itself, the antithesis of faith. When it is our children in peril, our greatest hope is that they will have sufficient strength, the capacity to believe, in themselves, to know the presence of a family and God who love them and who stand by them.

But this is, after all, what we as parents aspire to. We ought have faith in our children in the way we have taught them.

One of the richest, allegorical texts of Mark’s Gospel (4:35 – 41) is the story in which Jesus’ calms the storm. It has been understood as a picture of the confusion of the early church. Jesus’ questions his disciples, ‘Why are you so frightened? How is it that you have no faith?’ The disciples had failed to recognise Jesus’ presence, thinking him ‘asleep’. It is no surprise, that at the heart of this story, there is a story about who I am. It is no trouble being a person of faith when the going is good, but when my life is thrown into turmoil I struggle to see God walking with me. Notionally I know he is there, but in my anxiety doubt grows. Mark clearly tells us that his presence is constant and real, we need but call on his name.

And while this story still has an application to the life of the church today (clerical abuse, women and married priests, left-wing radical theologies, right-wing ‘traditionalists’, etc.) it is applies equally to letting our children go, to make their own decisions, to be independent, and trusting them to do right. They will experience life in a turbulent world, have enormous ups and downs, but in the end, we trust that they will know that you are there to love and support them. And, it’s our job. For the duration of our lives. And as we live in Christian hope for life eternal, it’s forever.

We have now returned to Ordinary Time. Isn’t it time too that you returned to join this cycle?

Peter Douglas

HEAD OF SCHOOL SERVICES, NORTH

JUST A NOTE

From this week’s blog I have decided to help prepare for the Sunday coming, rather than reflect on the Sunday past! We’ve missed Mark’s parable of the mustard seed this week!

EMBITTERED MORALIZING – AN OCCUPATIONAL HAZARD FOR GOOD, FAITHFUL PERSONS

by Ron Rolheiser

In a masterful book on grace, Piet Fransen suggests that we can test how well we understand grace by gauging our reaction to this story:

Imagine a man who during his whole life is entirely careless about God and morality. He’s selfish, ignores the commandments, ignores all things religious, and is basically consumed with pursuing his own pleasure – wine, sex, and song. Then, just hours before his death, he repents of his irresponsibility, makes a sincere confession, receives the sacraments of the church, and dies inside that conversion.

What’s our spontaneous reaction to that story? Isn’t it wonderful that he received the grace of conversion before he died? Or, more likely: The lucky beggar! He got away with it! He got to have all that pleasure and still gets to go to heaven!

If we felt the latter emotion, even for a moment, we have never deeply understood the concept of grace. Rather, like the older brother of the prodigal son, we are still seeing life away from God’s house as fuller than life inside God’s house, are still doing the right things mostly out of bitter duty, and are secretly envying the amoral. But, if this is true, we must be gentle with ourselves. This is an occupational hazard for good, faithful persons.

Jesus, himself, expresses this in the parable of the vineyard workers. This parable was addressed to Peter in answer to a question. Peter, on behalf of the other disciples, had just asked Jesus what reward they were going to receive for their fidelity to him. Jesus answers by telling him the story of very rich and generous landowner who goes out one morning and hires workers to work in his vineyard. He hires some early in the morning, promises them a good wage, keeps hiring others as the day progresses, each new group having to work fewer hours than the group before them, and ends the day by hiring a group of workers just one hour before work is to end. Then he tells his foreman to pay everyone a full day’s wage. But this leaves the workers who toiled the whole day somewhat bitter. “This isn’t fair!” they protest. “We worked the whole day and bore the heat of the sun and this last group worked just one hour. It’s unfair that we all receive the same wage!” The generous landowner, obviously representing God, is gentle in his response: “Friend, didn’t you agree to this wage? And isn’t a good wage? Are you envious and angry because I’m generous?”

Remember to whom those words are being addressed: Jesus is addressing Peter … and, in effect, through this parable, is addressing all good people who are morally and religiously bearing the heat of the day. And Jesus is assuring us that we will be rewarded richly for doing this. But, as the parable makes clear, there’s a catch: Simply put, we will be rewarded with heaven and it will be wonderful; but, and this is the catch, we can have everything and enjoy nothing because we are watching what everyone else is getting!

I sometimes try to highlight this point rather graphically when I give retreats to priests and religious. I have them consider this scenario: Imagine you live out your life in fidelity to the your vow of celibacy, metaphorically and otherwise bearing the heat of the day and, when you get to heaven, the first person you meet there is Hugh Hefner, the founder of Playboy. In shock you protest to God: “How did he get in here? It’s not fair, given the life he lived and the life that I was asked to live!” And God, the over-generous landowner, gently replies: “Friend, didn’t you agree to a life of celibacy, and isn’t heaven a wonderful place? Are you envious and angry because I’m generous?” And, how different this reaction to that of a true saint who, upon meeting someone like this in heaven, would, like the father of the prodigal son, rush over in joy, embrace the person, and say: “I’m overwhelmed with joy that you made it!”

Thomas Halik, a Czech writer, suggests that one of the reasons why so many people in the world reject the churches is that they see us as “embittered moralizers”, older brothers of the prodigal son, doing our religious and moral duties, but bitterly, and criticizing those who don’t live like us out of hidden envy. Nietzsche made a similar accusation more than a hundred years ago.

Sadly, there’s more than a little truth in that accusation. Too often, we are embittered moralizers, secretly envying the amoral and criticizing our world out of bitterness. But that’s an occupational hazard for the good and the faithful. Peter and first apostles struggled with it. Why should we be immune?

We needn’t be immune, but we do need to be honest in admitting that, despite our real goodness and fidelity, this indicates that we are still far from being full saints.