In order to have pleasure in everything
Desire to have pleasure in nothing.
In order to arrive at possessing everything
Desire to possess nothing.
In order to arrive at being everything
Desire to be nothing.
In order to arrive at knowing everything
Desire to know nothing.
In order to arrive at the wherein thou hast no pleasure
Thou must go by a way in which thou hast no pleasure.
In order to arrive at that which thou knowest not
Thou must go by a way that thou knowest not.
In order to arrive at that which thou possessest not
Thou must go by a way that thou possessest not.
In order to arrive at that which thou art not
Thou must go through that which thou art not.
- St. John of the Cross (quoted by Thomas Merton in The Ascent to Truth)
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For His Glory,
Isaac
Monday, May 18, 2009
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Homily on Mark 8:34 - Take up your cross
For my online class this semester (called Patristic Exegesis) we had an assignment to write a homily on something in the Bible. I wanted to write on more than just a verse, but the verse just happened to be enough to write on.
I wanted to share it with you, whoever you are.
----
“Deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow me” (Mk 8:34b, NAB). Christ presents a threefold command. This command is spoken not to just a select few, not to only those whom he has selected as his followers, not to solely Peter, James, and John. Jesus the Christ speaks to all those who are willing to listen, everyone who may be in the crowd that day, the rich, the poor, the passerby, the disciple, the chosen, the children, the busy, the traveler. The commonality is the willingness to listen to Jesus, to ascent to his call, for it was Jesus who “summoned the crowd” (8:34a). Even before saying “follow me”, Christ asks them to follow him into the crowd, to be receptive. “Join the people gathered,” Christ says, “and hear what it is I have to say. You too; you too are included in those I wish to speak. My message is not for only the twelve who I call disciples, but for the lost sheep of Israel” (Mt 15:24).
Upon gathering up all those open to his word, Christ says “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me” (Mk 8:34b). All those gathered, the disciples and non-disciples alike, are made equal. Whoever has ears are invited to listen to Christ’s words, and whoever wishes to come after Christ are invited to act up on them (cf. Mk 4:9). Those in the crowd are not forced into submission, their freedom is never hindered, but instead Jesus invites those gathered, and us today, to reflect. “What is it that you truly wish?,” Christ asks. “What do you really desire?”
And so let us think. Are our wishes grand enough for God? Are we going to find happiness in abundance of corn and new wine (cf. Ps 4:8)? Shall we build up our riches here in the earthly kingdom or for the heavenly kingdom (cf. Lk 12:33)? Those gathered are asked to reflect on whether they wish to come after Christ, who they know to have fed four thousand with seven loaves, cured the blind man at Bethsaida, healed a deaf man in Decapolis, fed another five thousand with five loaves and two fishes, healed demoniacs, people with deformities, lepers, and drove out demons throughout all of Galilee. The crowd knows Christ as a healer, among other titles, but they don’t know Christ the Risen Lord. We have that benefit. Yet we who do know the Risen Christ are asked the same question, the question that echoes for all ages. Do we wish to come after Christ? Do we wish to go where he goes? We, who in faith know of our ultimate end with God, hear the words of Christ differently, for we know and believe that he has the words of eternal life (cf. Jn 6:68). Christ invites us to receive those words. But moreover Christ invites us to desire those words and to follow those words back to the speaker, back to himself.
Once our desires are set correctly and we wish to come after Christ the threefold command takes on a new meaning. Simply wishing to come after Christ is the beginning of our faith, but not the final destination. Let us examine what it is this threefold command asks.
Christ demands those who wish to come after him to “deny himself”. After our ascent to Christ, after placing coming after Christ as our ultimate wish – for failure to have this as our most important desire means that we are not actually desiring coming after Christ – after freely wishing to come after Christ we are called to deny ourselves. Who are you? Who are we? By choosing to come after Christ we can call ourselves Christians, our identity becomes more closely bound to Christ. So this is not that part which should be denied.
We must deny our SELVES. We must put ourselves aside for something bigger. Abraham, when asked by God to sacrifice Isaac, denied himself. He denied his identity, which was so closely tied up with his offspring and God’s own promise to make his descendents more numerous than all the stars. John the Baptist denied himself. While he had all the makings of an important figure, instead of cultivating the attention, he points to Jesus. Paul, in his call to conversion from Christ, is asked the same. He is asked to go against everything he has worked for, to fight for the other side.
These three deny their identity in faith; they deny their selves in response to God’s call. But it wasn’t easy. Abraham struggled the entire journey to the sacrifice site. Paul and John the Baptist were both imprisoned, while Paul and beaten to the point of physical deformation. And so our wish to come after Jesus likewise will often lead to struggle and sufferings. Letting go of self leaves us open and vulnerable, our hands not tied to ourselves anymore, like Jonah thrown overboard into the sea. With no identity, with no self to cling onto, we can drift away into emptiness, into loneliness, into meaninglessness. But we have a God who “so loved the world that he gave his only son” (Jn 3:16). Our God throws us a life preserver, wood in the form of a cross, and the imperative to take it up. In this ocean of selflessness taking up our cross is the only way, the cross our only hope. The struggle that ensues from denying our selves is our cross. Yet it is not the Cross of Christ. By taking up our cross, we do participate in Christ’s taking up of his Cross, but our crosses are not as large as the cross of Christ. Christ calls us to take up OUR cross, never someone else’s.
“Take up your cross,” Christ says. He speaks this to those who do not know about the Resurrection. For them, the exhortation to “take up your cross” cannot be meant to connect their lives to the crucifixion, as it has not yet happened. So what is the cross, then? The pain that comes from denying ourselves can help us identify our cross. Abraham was told to sacrifice his son, and so his cross was losing his son Isaac and his identity. He had to walk with this, struggle with this. Paul carried the cross of his old identity, the pain from murdering followers of Christ, those, who, like Stephen, had already desired to come after Christ, denied themselves, taken up their cross, and followed Christ. The cross is a cross of love, a cross of continual self-denial, a cross that calls us to obedient unto death of self, even death on a cross (cf. Phil 2:8).
If we were only to wish to come after Christ, to deny ourselves, and to take up our cross, we would be like the seed which falls among thorns, growing but choked, life leading to only death (cf Mk 4:7). But we are called to follow Christ. For the crowd, following Christ could be taken literally. Leaving everything behind to physically follow Jesus would be feasible: denying the whole identity of self and all of its ties, taking up the cross of self-LESS-ness and following the Man and his teachings.
Let us not believe this is the only way to follow him. Now we face a different reality. We believe and follow the same Christ, but we know we follow a Savior who knows his way out of the tomb. Following Christ will lead us to new life. The struggles will come, the pain will come. “But I consider that the sufferings of this present time are as nothing compared with the glory to be revealed for us” (Rom 8:18).
Mark the Evangelist recapitulates this message in the next verse: “whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and that of the gospel will save it”. So Christ calls us to follow him by denying our selves. Let us enter into the struggle of following Christ, listening to his words, imitating his actions and conforming ourselves to he “who takes away the sins of the world” (Jn 1:29b). Let us join our voices with John the Baptist’s, praying that Christ increase, and we decrease (cf. Jn 3:30). And let us join in the Baptizer’s willingness to deny himself amidst claims of importance and greatness, his resoluteness in taking up his cross by preaching a difficult message, and his faithfulness in following Jesus. May we who struggle to carry our crosses trust in him who strengthens us; may we continue to follow Christ, “for from him and through him and for him are all things. To him be glory forever. Amen” (cf. Phil 4:13; Rom 11:36).
----
For His Glory,
Isaac
I wanted to share it with you, whoever you are.
----
“Deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow me” (Mk 8:34b, NAB). Christ presents a threefold command. This command is spoken not to just a select few, not to only those whom he has selected as his followers, not to solely Peter, James, and John. Jesus the Christ speaks to all those who are willing to listen, everyone who may be in the crowd that day, the rich, the poor, the passerby, the disciple, the chosen, the children, the busy, the traveler. The commonality is the willingness to listen to Jesus, to ascent to his call, for it was Jesus who “summoned the crowd” (8:34a). Even before saying “follow me”, Christ asks them to follow him into the crowd, to be receptive. “Join the people gathered,” Christ says, “and hear what it is I have to say. You too; you too are included in those I wish to speak. My message is not for only the twelve who I call disciples, but for the lost sheep of Israel” (Mt 15:24).
Upon gathering up all those open to his word, Christ says “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me” (Mk 8:34b). All those gathered, the disciples and non-disciples alike, are made equal. Whoever has ears are invited to listen to Christ’s words, and whoever wishes to come after Christ are invited to act up on them (cf. Mk 4:9). Those in the crowd are not forced into submission, their freedom is never hindered, but instead Jesus invites those gathered, and us today, to reflect. “What is it that you truly wish?,” Christ asks. “What do you really desire?”
And so let us think. Are our wishes grand enough for God? Are we going to find happiness in abundance of corn and new wine (cf. Ps 4:8)? Shall we build up our riches here in the earthly kingdom or for the heavenly kingdom (cf. Lk 12:33)? Those gathered are asked to reflect on whether they wish to come after Christ, who they know to have fed four thousand with seven loaves, cured the blind man at Bethsaida, healed a deaf man in Decapolis, fed another five thousand with five loaves and two fishes, healed demoniacs, people with deformities, lepers, and drove out demons throughout all of Galilee. The crowd knows Christ as a healer, among other titles, but they don’t know Christ the Risen Lord. We have that benefit. Yet we who do know the Risen Christ are asked the same question, the question that echoes for all ages. Do we wish to come after Christ? Do we wish to go where he goes? We, who in faith know of our ultimate end with God, hear the words of Christ differently, for we know and believe that he has the words of eternal life (cf. Jn 6:68). Christ invites us to receive those words. But moreover Christ invites us to desire those words and to follow those words back to the speaker, back to himself.
Once our desires are set correctly and we wish to come after Christ the threefold command takes on a new meaning. Simply wishing to come after Christ is the beginning of our faith, but not the final destination. Let us examine what it is this threefold command asks.
Christ demands those who wish to come after him to “deny himself”. After our ascent to Christ, after placing coming after Christ as our ultimate wish – for failure to have this as our most important desire means that we are not actually desiring coming after Christ – after freely wishing to come after Christ we are called to deny ourselves. Who are you? Who are we? By choosing to come after Christ we can call ourselves Christians, our identity becomes more closely bound to Christ. So this is not that part which should be denied.
We must deny our SELVES. We must put ourselves aside for something bigger. Abraham, when asked by God to sacrifice Isaac, denied himself. He denied his identity, which was so closely tied up with his offspring and God’s own promise to make his descendents more numerous than all the stars. John the Baptist denied himself. While he had all the makings of an important figure, instead of cultivating the attention, he points to Jesus. Paul, in his call to conversion from Christ, is asked the same. He is asked to go against everything he has worked for, to fight for the other side.
These three deny their identity in faith; they deny their selves in response to God’s call. But it wasn’t easy. Abraham struggled the entire journey to the sacrifice site. Paul and John the Baptist were both imprisoned, while Paul and beaten to the point of physical deformation. And so our wish to come after Jesus likewise will often lead to struggle and sufferings. Letting go of self leaves us open and vulnerable, our hands not tied to ourselves anymore, like Jonah thrown overboard into the sea. With no identity, with no self to cling onto, we can drift away into emptiness, into loneliness, into meaninglessness. But we have a God who “so loved the world that he gave his only son” (Jn 3:16). Our God throws us a life preserver, wood in the form of a cross, and the imperative to take it up. In this ocean of selflessness taking up our cross is the only way, the cross our only hope. The struggle that ensues from denying our selves is our cross. Yet it is not the Cross of Christ. By taking up our cross, we do participate in Christ’s taking up of his Cross, but our crosses are not as large as the cross of Christ. Christ calls us to take up OUR cross, never someone else’s.
“Take up your cross,” Christ says. He speaks this to those who do not know about the Resurrection. For them, the exhortation to “take up your cross” cannot be meant to connect their lives to the crucifixion, as it has not yet happened. So what is the cross, then? The pain that comes from denying ourselves can help us identify our cross. Abraham was told to sacrifice his son, and so his cross was losing his son Isaac and his identity. He had to walk with this, struggle with this. Paul carried the cross of his old identity, the pain from murdering followers of Christ, those, who, like Stephen, had already desired to come after Christ, denied themselves, taken up their cross, and followed Christ. The cross is a cross of love, a cross of continual self-denial, a cross that calls us to obedient unto death of self, even death on a cross (cf. Phil 2:8).
If we were only to wish to come after Christ, to deny ourselves, and to take up our cross, we would be like the seed which falls among thorns, growing but choked, life leading to only death (cf Mk 4:7). But we are called to follow Christ. For the crowd, following Christ could be taken literally. Leaving everything behind to physically follow Jesus would be feasible: denying the whole identity of self and all of its ties, taking up the cross of self-LESS-ness and following the Man and his teachings.
Let us not believe this is the only way to follow him. Now we face a different reality. We believe and follow the same Christ, but we know we follow a Savior who knows his way out of the tomb. Following Christ will lead us to new life. The struggles will come, the pain will come. “But I consider that the sufferings of this present time are as nothing compared with the glory to be revealed for us” (Rom 8:18).
Mark the Evangelist recapitulates this message in the next verse: “whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and that of the gospel will save it”. So Christ calls us to follow him by denying our selves. Let us enter into the struggle of following Christ, listening to his words, imitating his actions and conforming ourselves to he “who takes away the sins of the world” (Jn 1:29b). Let us join our voices with John the Baptist’s, praying that Christ increase, and we decrease (cf. Jn 3:30). And let us join in the Baptizer’s willingness to deny himself amidst claims of importance and greatness, his resoluteness in taking up his cross by preaching a difficult message, and his faithfulness in following Jesus. May we who struggle to carry our crosses trust in him who strengthens us; may we continue to follow Christ, “for from him and through him and for him are all things. To him be glory forever. Amen” (cf. Phil 4:13; Rom 11:36).
----
For His Glory,
Isaac
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Both And
One of the columns in the Catholic Herald (the weekly newspaper serving the Archdiocese of Milwaukee) that I enjoy reading is the one by Fr. Ron Rolheiser. They're all really good. I thought I'd share one of his latest ones called There's a Season for Everything.
I like it because it embodies the "Both And" approach that is essential for our Catholic faith. We uphold both celibacy and marriage, both Scripture and Tradition, both feeding the poor and spiritual progress. Check it out.
For His Glory,
Isaac
I like it because it embodies the "Both And" approach that is essential for our Catholic faith. We uphold both celibacy and marriage, both Scripture and Tradition, both feeding the poor and spiritual progress. Check it out.
For His Glory,
Isaac
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