On the Power of Jesus' Questions: Calling us to Transcendence

[[Dear Sister Laurel, I liked your post on Jesus's two questions to Peter and his disciples from Sunday. It was the first time I ever heard anyone speak about one question, "Who do others say that I am?" as representing the world, and the other, "And you, who do YOU say that I am?" representing the Kingdom or being freed from "the world" and moving toward the Kingdom. I think you are right that the world tells us what to think and buy, value and reject, though I never saw it this way before. I have two questions. First, do all questions have this kind of power or did only Jesus' questions?  Second, why does Jesus tell his disciples to say nothing to anyone about who he is?]]

Thanks for your comments and questions! While I believe Jesus' questions might have had a peculiar kind of power, I believe that was because they were motivated by love and sought to bring the best (i.e., the truest) out of every person. Also, I believe that it was because Jesus was absolutely trustworthy (i.e., he challenged people but they were completely safe with him too) that his questions could work as powerfully as they did. He asked questions like, "Do you want to be well?", "What would you have me do?" "Do you love (Agape) me?" "Why are you anxious (or terrified)?" "What did you go out to the desert to see?" "What are you looking for?" and, of course, the two we heard on Sunday and many others besides. Each one of these confronts us with ourselves, each uncovers the deeply held beliefs and biases, and often too, the deeply hidden parts or dimensions of ourselves and asks us to trust Jesus with them. 

When I hear these kinds of questions that were so typical of Jesus in the Gospels, it is clear these are no mere requests for information or a kind of polite "How are you doing?" with no real desire to hear (much less nurture!) the truth. Instead, I hear a call to vulnerability, self-knowledge, and faith (trust) in the face of our deepest needs and desires. This is the way we grow, the way we are called beyond ourselves, first with confrontation (You are sick, you are looking to me for something, you are frightened, you betrayed me and I think there is something deeper and truer within you, etc.) and then, with a call to transcendence and the invitation to place ourselves in Jesus' hands so that that change might be achieved. And even in Jesus' absence these kinds of questions still have great power. They can still confront us with who we are and what we hold as true and sometimes incontrovertible, and they can stir us to imagine something other and even something greater, not only in ourselves but in others and in the whole of God's creation. 

If we can allow ourselves to "live the questions," (Rilke) we will also begin to see where we are really profoundly dissatisfied with the answers we were formerly at least superficially comfortable with, or where potentialities and opportunities lay deeply hidden within us, covered by layers of "What others have told us" or much of "what we have become convinced of."  Questions of the sort Jesus seemed to specialize in are like psychological or existential dynamite. They can explode the hardened worldly accretions of years of hopelessness and futility or complacency and unearth the fires of Life burning at the core of our Being that make us alive, creative, hopeful, and courageous. Of course, the one who asks the questions is also critical in this entire process, but I think there is no doubt that the questions themselves can work in us and produce powerful results.

Why did Jesus tell his disciples not to tell anyone about him (or about who he was)? I think there are several reasons. 

• First, when Peter gave his answer, "You are the Messiah" Jesus had already become persona non grata to the Jewish and Roman leaders. They were out to get him and Jesus needed to maintain a low profile, not have his disciples touting him as the Jewish Messiah! 
• Secondly, while Jesus did not eschew the title Messiah, he knew it needed to be redefined in terms of suffering if God's love and mercy were to be fully and exhaustively revealed. A God who chose to become God-With-Us to the extent Jesus' Abba did this was literally inconceivable as was a crucified Messiah. One needed to meet this God face to face and, in Christ, allow him to confront, change, and grow one's heart. Second or third-hand reports would not do it! This was true of the disciples as well as those whom they might meet.
• Thirdly, those who met Jesus needed to see (discern) and say (claim) for themselves who it was they were meeting. This was imperative for those who would truly follow Jesus, particularly since they would be following him to his crucifixion --- and potentially to their own passion and death as well. Only those who answered from their own hearts what they truly knew in that profoundly biblical sense of "knowing," would be able to muster the courage one's discipleship to this man would necessitate. 

As you imply in your comments, an encounter with Jesus and his questions led his hearers to a new kind of freedom. It is this freedom we see in the book of Acts when Peter and the other disciples start proclaiming the crucified and risen Christ to their fellow Jews --- those responsible for Jesus' trial and crucifixion --- the kind of freedom associated with what the New Testament calls parrhesia, a remarkable boldness of speech (and associated living) that is wholly transparent to others. One says what is on one's mind and does so completely, without fear or rhetorical tricks or veiling. One is made free to be oneself and to say precisely what one believes so that others might also be brought to the same kind of freedom in Christ.

"Beyond Imagining:"Broadcasting the Seed of God's Word

Sunday's liturgy was very powerful, and made even more so by the fact that parishioners could come up to the church after the ZOOM service and safely receive Eucharist for the first time in Four months! (I asked them to honk as they went past my street or hermitage on their way home from receiving!! Some did!!) 

For me personally the readings were incredibly moving, especially since they combined some of my favorite texts and images all on the same day. I was able to lector for the reading from Isaiah 55: God's Word will not return to him void, but then came Paul writing to the Romans about adoption in Christ and how it is God causes all things to work for good in those that love him (that is, in those who allow him to be God for and with them!); I immediately thought of a quote I have used here and used just recently with some new friends, [[ Not everything that happens is the will of God, but inevitably, of all that happens, nothing happens outside the will of God! (Dietrich Bonhoeffer). And then finally, the parable of the soils (sometimes less accurately, I think, called the parable of the seeds)! Our homilist did a terrific job and really did break this word open powerfully and effectively which added to the abundance God showered on us all --- the seeds God broadcast. And so, after today's liturgy, I was left excited --- so much seed, so many possibilities for prayer, reflection, study, and writing! So much goodness and such abundant promise of LIFE! I tried to describe my experience in an email and here is what I wrote:

[[For me the readings were amazing. Every one of them full of promise and assurance. I am usually able to hear a word in the readings, but today it was like God was shaking me and saying, “Do you hear? Do you hear what is possible? Can you really believe this? Please believe this!!” Every reading was full and calling to me --- not without shadows and the inevitability of struggle, but even so --- promise was the last word in every case. I came away feeling bewildered by all of it, overwhelmed and off-balance by it --- by the abundance of it.  It was as though I said I was a bit thirsty and God came with buckets of cold water and let me drink, poured some of them over me, left some next to me so I could drink more later when ever I needed, and then, for good measure, opened the heavens in rain showers just to be sure I actually got the point! And all of this still done gently, emphatically, exuberantly, with God laughing and delighted (“he” does this so seriously!), but gently, care-fully.]]

It is always a surprise to me how powerful and gentle God is at once in any encounter. In this particular experience what was astounding was how serious and also how playful God was, how emphatic and care-full, how commanding but also how vulnerable to me -- as expressed in his earnest appeal and plea that I would believe as deeply as possible what I was being shown. My Director uses the phrase, "Beyond imagining" to describe this God and what he has done in and with her life. This powerful generosity, this love which creates  (or promises to create!) life beyond imagining, is what I experienced yesterday and what Jesus was trying to describe when he referred to the harvest being 100 or 60 or even 30-fold. It's what he was saying in Isaiah's imagery of the word watering the earth and never returning to (him) void or empty; it is what Paul was speaking of when he affirmed that God can bring good out of anything at all if only we allow him to be God --- that is, if only we love him. God, and all he chooses to be for us and make of us, is beyond imagining even as he inspires and fructifies that same imagining. Thanks be to God. 

Feast of the Conversion of St Paul

Tomorrow is the feast of the Conversion of St Paul, and my own feastday as well. We know Paul's story well. A good Jew, indeed, a scholar of the Law who saw the early Church as a distortion and danger to orthodoxy, one who understood that a crucified person was godless and shameful and could in no way be a faithful Jew or prophet, much less God's anointed one, persecuted the Church in the name of orthodoxy and for the glory of God. In sincere faithfulness to the covenant Paul hounded men, women and children, many of whom were his own neighbors. He sent them to prison and thence to their deaths. He, at least technically And according to Luke's version of things), colluded in the stoning of Stephen and sought to wipe Christians from the face of the earth.

While on a campaign to Damascus to root out and destroy more "apostates" Paul had a dramatic vision and heard someone call out to him, "Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?" Paul inquired who this voice was and was told, "I am Jesus whom you persecuteth." In that moment everything Paul knew, believed, and practiced, was turned upside down. God had vindicated the One whom Paul knew to be godless acording to the Law. He was alive rather than eternally dead, risen through the power of God as the Christians had claimed. For Paul nothing would ever be the same again. So it is with conversions.


Perhaps it is a matter of faulty perception on my part, and if so, I apologize, but it seems to me that conversion is not something most Catholics regard as pertinent to their lives. Conversion is something non-Catholics do when they become Catholics (or vice versa!). It is a onetime event that those "born into the faith" don't (it is thought) need to worry about! Those "born Catholic" may think in terms of "growing in their faith" or "becoming a better Catholic" (and there is certainly nothing wrong with thinking this way!) but "conversion" seems to be a word that is simply little-used for these processes. Somehow (perhaps because of the story of Paul!) conversion is too dramatic and messy a process it seems. It disrupts and is marked by difficult and abrupt discontinuities and conflicts or tensions. It demands a spiritual praxis which sets one apart from the norm, a prayer life which is central, engagement with the Word of God which is profound and more extensive than usual -- not minimal or nominal, and a faith life which does not tolerate compartmentalization. Growth, becoming, etc, are safer words --- demanding, yes, but somehow less total and more socially acceptable than references to "conversion."

In monastic life, and especially in Benedictine monastic life the primary vow is to conversion of life. This vow includes those ordinarily made in religious life, the vows of poverty and chastity. One commits oneself to continually allow God to remake one into the image of Christ (and into one's truest self). There is a sense that such conversion is a gradual and lifelong process of growth and maturation, yes, but there is also an openness to conversion as dramatic and all-consuming. Here conversion is something which does not allow the monastic to divide their lives into sacred and profane or to compartmentalize them into the spiritual and the non-spiritual. Here the Word of God is expected and allowed to convict, challenge, transform, and empower. Here the Spirit of God is accepted as the spirit which moves within us enlivening, edifying, consolidating, and purifying --- the Spirit which humanizes and sanctifies us into the covenant reality we are most truly. It is a pattern which should be true of every Christian.

Paul's initial conversion experience was dramatic by any standards, but drama aside, it did for Paul what encounter and engagement with the Word of God is meant to do to any of us. It caused him to see his entire world and life in terms of the risen and Crucified Christ. It put law completely at the service of love and made compassion the way to accomplish justice. It made human weakness the counterpart of divine strength, mercy and forgiveness the way God's will is accomplished, and in every other way turned the values of this world on their head. May each of us open ourselves to the kind of conversion of life we celebrate today.