Jesus comes day after day to his native place, the Church, that is, his body; to us, the temples in which he is pleased to dwell. But how do we respond to this familiarity?
They said, “Where did this man get all this?
What kind of wisdom has been given him?
What mighty deeds are wrought by his hands!
These words spoken in the synagogue could be spoken sincerely, but given the context it seems the were spoken sarcastically. Yet how much better our own words in response to our regular experience of the wisdom and power of Jesus? Is it not the case that we all too often merely pay it lip service? We know Jesus, and in a certain sense we just want to preserve the relationship with him that we already know and understand. But unfortunately, compared to the truth of who he is, our understanding of him is always incomplete. If we insist that he fit the mold of our expectations it won't be long before we reject him when he wants to teach us something new or move in and new and powerful way. It won't be long before our lip service becomes sarcastic incredulity.
Is he not the carpenter, the son of Mary,
and the brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon?
And are not his sisters here with us?”
We might say, 'Is this not Jesus, the same one about whom we read in the Scriptures every day, whom we receive in the Sacraments, to whom we pray? Because we know the limits of his power. We look around us at our fellow disciples in the pews and do not see much wisdom or sanctity in them or, for that matter, in ourselves. How could this Jesus suddenly suggest that he has more to offer?' We might well "take offense at him."
Yet Jesus comes to his native place in spite of the lukewarm reception we give him, in spite of the fact that "[h]ard of face and obstinate of heart are they to whom I am sending you." He wouldn't bother if he didn't believe that we could choose to look past the surface, to refuse to accept our own understanding of Jesus as the limit of our relationship with him. To begin with, we must repent of the hardness of heart that treats Jesus with casual familiarity. Our every day with him is a miracle.
As the eyes of a maid
are on the hands of her mistress,
So are our eyes on the LORD, our God,
till he have pity on us.
It is a normal and often unremarked aspect of our fallen nature that we tend to tend to let our religion devolve into routine and our relationship with Jesus into mere repetition and ritual. There is insufficient awareness and attention to the moment, to the here and now of each day where he is always doing something new. This may seem harmless until we realize that it is this very attitude effectively shields us from the the possibility of deeper conversion. With this attitude we look to idols in the here and now, expecting them to speak, while ignoring what Jesus is trying to say, living as though it is he who is the voiceless idol and not those other things which so enchant us. We pay the honor of attention and awareness to so many things, but where in this hierarchy does Jesus fit for us?
We must come to terms with our weakness if we want to get beyond it. Our limits, even the inadequate ways that we tend to relate to God, are not his limits, and do not limit his power to relate to us in a new way. Our own weakness can become a new avenue for him to come to us. It is not by our own strength that we achieve this breakthrough, but by allowing Jesus to be our sufficiency in our weakness.
for when I am weak, then I am strong.
The next time the Lord comes to his native place let us be aware that without his help we will almost certainly remain half-hearted and lukewarm. Let us look in the moment to him in the hope of that help. We may be surprised by just how powerfully his strength can transform us.
As the LORD spoke to me, the spirit entered into me
and set me on my feet,
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