Tags
apostles, Come follow me, Jesus, Luke, Mount of Beatitudes, prompt, Sea of Galilee, St. Andrew, The Sophia Center for Spirituality
Today is the feast of St. Andrew, chronicled in the gospel of Luke as one of “The Twelve” – those first named people to hear the call of Christ to follow him. When I read that text from Luke 4, I often wish for more. It’s rather difficult to think of fishermen, schooled in their trade and living what was probably a stable, familiar life, putting down their nets at that very short and rather cryptic directive (“Come, follow me!”) with a willingness to do whatever it took to respond. Wasn’t there more conversation? Didn’t they ask about where Jesus came from and where they were going? About what his “offer” meant? At least some of them had families. Were they being asked to abandon those loved ones? For what?
Today when I read the lines and had the same curiosity, I was flung back in spirit to the Mount of the Beatitudes, one of my favorite places visited on my trip to Israel in 2015. From that most beautiful, peaceful, holy hill I saw at a bit of a distance the Sea of Galilee, spread out like a welcoming blanket over the land below. There was even a boat with one or two tiny dots of what were probably fishermen occupying the small craft. How I wished to be one of those people, taken back in time to the moment when Jesus first appeared on the scene. Something stirred in me, akin perhaps to the feelings of those first responders, that made my heart say “YES” without thought of consequence or even of meaning. Holy places can have that effect sometimes. I find, however, that the response must be made on a daily basis – and sometimes even moment to moment. I suspect that Andrew and the others with him came to know that truth, but it seemed that the deal was sealed at that first encounter.
We all come to God in our own time, in our own way, with God’s own impetus or prompt. We may be born into a tradition, as I was, or have an experience that is so overwhelming as to leave us wanting more, but always – if we are to persevere – the fires have to be stoked on a regular basis.
We are here in New Hampshire with just such a purpose. It is well begun. The 18 of us, sitting in a circle last night, began a search together for a new certainty of that fire of love that will surely help us to pass on something of the spark that holds us on the path to a deepening sense of the presence of God in and among us.
The circle awaits. May God be praised by our willingness!
While I’m not certain that the adage “Seeing is believing” came as a conclusion from the story of Thomas, the Apostle who was missing when Jesus appeared in the Upper Room on Easter evening, it certainly applies in that case. It’s difficult to believe what we have not seen with our own eyes (our physical selves) and thereby experienced as true. How is it that we come to believe what we cannot comprehend with our “ordinary minds?” Moreover, what is it that so stirs a person to envision the possibility of something that has never been done – and then to carry the process forward until that possibility becomes a reality? It seems that great inventors must not only be gifted with vision but with steadfast perseverance. And then there is the willingness of those who come after that visionary soul to continue the work. I think here of scientists and medical advancement and immediately my favorite example in a different but related sphere comes to mind. I’m fond of saying, “Kitty Hawk to the moon in 66 years” as the miracle of flight astounds me each time I feel the take-off moment from inside a plane.
The word “trust” keeps floating to the surface of my thoughts and experience these days. I think of how often we exercise trust in another person or group or organization without naming it or even recognizing that we are allowing it to function. We get in a car and trust that other drivers will obey the rules of the road and that we will be able to do the same. We get on a plane and trust that it will not fall out of the sky even though it is extremely heavy and is resting on nothing solid (like a road). We travel to a new city and trust others to take us to places that we could not find ourselves.
On days when I don’t feel especially far along on the path toward God, I often think of the apostles for comfort. They sometimes appeared rather dense – not unwilling but just not able to grasp what Jesus was saying. Of course, I also feel sympathy for Jesus who must’ve been frustrated at those moments. One of the clearest examples of such a situation appears in this morning’s gospel (JN 14:7-14) and I always feel bad for Jesus when I read it. He is speaking to Philip about the fact that anyone who knows him (Jesus) also knows the Father (God). Philip says, “Master, show us the Father and that will be enough for us.” In the response of Jesus I hear not only frustration but fatigue and disappointment that he hasn’t been able to make his point about who he is and the mission he has been given. Then comes the question that I hear not only as spoken to Philip but sometimes also to me. Jesus says, “Have I been with you for so long a time and still you do not know me?”
If we were matching names of apostles with defining qualities, Peter might be the easiest: Peter – impetuous. Maybe John would be beloved. That’s about as far as I would be willing to go except when I think of Thomas who is sometimes dismissed in the upper room for what we call “doubting” or faithlessness. I tend to say rather that he is concrete or logical. I usually smile in recognition when I read his question in John’s gospel (JN 14:1-6) to Jesus who says, “Where I am going you know the way.” Jesus is talking about many rooms in his Father’s house (and this isn’t even close to the post-resurrection time) so Thomas is (reasonably, I think) taking him literally so he asks, “Master, we do not know where you are going; how can we know the way?” My smile comes from the fact that I probably would have reacted with the same question. By now I am clearly in the mindset that it’s impossible to interpret everything logically – especially when you’re in the company of Jesus! So now I’m much more open to surprise, intuition, etc. but I still appreciate logical thought.
