Jesus met his disciples where the jaws of death were reaching out for victims.
At this time of year, we Christians are especially aware of the founding mystery of our lives: the death and resurrection of Jesus. It is a unique moment in the history of salvation. The Gospel story that throws light on it for me comes from Mark 6:45-52: He made his disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to Bethsaida, while he himself sent the crowd away.
After saying goodbye to them, he went into the hills to pray. When evening came the boat was far out on the lake, and he was alone on the land. He could see they were worn out with rowing, for the wind was against them; and about the fourth watch of the night he came toward them, walking on the lake. … they all saw him and were terrified.
But he at once spoke to them, and said, “Courage! It is I! Do not be afraid!” Then he got into the boat with them and the wind dropped. They were utterly and completely dumbfounded, because they had not seen what the miracle of the loaves meant; their minds were closed.”
One of the principal “problems” with the wondrous fact of Jesus’ resurrection is that we are constantly forgetting it. Our “minds are closed” to the real presence of the paschal mystery in our lives and in our times. Perhaps like the women at the tomb on Easter morning, our memories are seared with the stark reality of his dying — in the poor, the despairing, the sick, the lost, ourselves. We too need to be consoled by heavenly voices assuring us of a greater reality: Remember what he told you when he was still in Galilee… And they remembered his words (Lk 24:7-8). To this situation the Church responds compassionately and with wisdom. She offers us the liturgical seasons of Lent and Easter.
We do need to plunge in again. We need to immerse ourselves in the joyous atmosphere that surrounds the baptismal font. This involves drinking deeply of the Scriptures and of the liturgy itself. It includes setting aside time to “just be” with the Lord. It means taking seriously the Holy Father’s urgent call to fast and to repent.
Our baptismal identity is stronger than death. Our hold on it is sometimes as fragile as the latest ripple of discouraging news. Only prayer anchors us firmly in its splendour. To this necessity — the one thing necessary (Lk 10:42) — Madonna House witnesses today. Frankly, to many this seems pure foolishness, a “doing nothing” when “everything” or at least “anything” would be so much more a propos. The Lord’s words Cut off from me you can nothing (Jn 15:5) come to mind. We so often end up doing a lot of nothing. But as for “fruit that will last,” we can only attain this through deep prayer.
Jesus’ Command
Having said all this, however, I am brought back again to that Gospel narrative of Mark. It’s all very well to speak of prayer as the source of real evangelism. But real prayer (the journey inward) as well as truly evangelical action are both a response to the same command of Jesus. He made the disciples get into a boat and go on ahead. Unless we go on ahead into the night, into the dark, murky waters of our hearts and of our times, we shall not meet the risen Christ.
For he is to be encountered not in the dreamy serenity of a sun-drenched beach but in the fourth watch of the night, when the wind is against us and we are worn out with rowing.
If we remember anything about the resurrection, we should recall that it is for the dead. Those who are quite well, thank you, have no need of it, as Paul learned in Athens: At this mention of rising from the dead, some of them burst out laughing (Acts 17:32). If the disciples had disobeyed Jesus and stayed back on shore, they would have had, no doubt, a less trying evening — no wind, no futile sweat and toil, no vision of seeming ghosts. But neither would they have heard the life-giving words of the Divine One: Courage! It is I! Jesus met his disciples where the jaws of death were reaching out for victims.
Meeting the Dead
The “dead” today are as near as the various tombs and chasms in our heart. We must journey there if we wish to know deeply the risen Christ. Jesus is the conqueror of sin and death. He is to be found walking on the waters. They do not hold him under sway of fear. They have no power to suck him into their murderous depths.
Rather, it is Christ who conquers the powers and principalities, parading them in public, behind him in his triumphal procession (Col 2:15). He invites us to journey inward so as to share in his victory. But the “dead” are also in every brother and sister who suffers and is under trial. If Jesus is anywhere today, he is most certainly with them. He who is the Light of the World is always at the leading edge where light pierces the darkness, scattering it with brilliant arrows.
Jesus also invites us there. And we will know with him the price of victory. We will face darkness, high winds, towering waves. We will experience the futility of powerlessness. We will be “utterly and completely dumbfounded, even terrified” at times. The price of a human being’s salvation is not cheap. The alternative — staying behind — will exact another price of an infinitely more terrible kind. Christ will seem utterly absent from our lives and from our world. We Christians will be washed up on the shores of irrelevance, like discarded driftwood nobody wants. These branches are thrown on the fire, and they are burned (Jn 15:6). We will disappear from this moment of history in a thin little wisp of quickly forgotten smoke.
Courage!
One thought that often consoles me is Catherine Doherty’s definition of a courageous person: “a coward moved by grace.” What a perfect description of so many moments in my life! How often have I, heart in throat, stomach in knots, contemplated facing this situation or that? I seemed to be paralyzed with fear and loathing. The situation appeared insurmountable, like the angry waves of a troubled sea.
But somehow, almost robot-like, I walked ahead into the storm. And the Lord has never disappointed me, even if to all appearances my efforts have seemed futile. Courage! It is I! Do not be afraid! Is it the sea about us that calms down at that moment, or is it ourselves?
So let us, with fear and trembling, yet with confident hope, obey the Lord’s command to go on ahead into the night of our hearts at this moment in salvation history. We need not fear. Jesus is on the mountain, interceding for us at the Father’s right hand. And he who is with us always will also be there in the midst of the storm. It is then and there that we shall remember who we are because we shall know who he is.
In other words, when we were baptized, we went into the tomb with him and joined him in death, so that as Christ was raised from the dead by the Father’s glory, we too might live a new life (Rom 6:4).
Christ is risen! Truly he is risen! Alleluia!
Reprinted from Restoration April, 1984
[Image: Harrowing of Hell, St. Mary’s Chapel, Madonna House.]
