Handing over your life to Christ - radically living out the vow of Obedience
I posted the following text on this blog 2 years ago in relation to the 3rd Sunday of Easter, Year C of the liturgical calendar (we are in Year A at the moment). It is a reflection I wrote in relation to one of my favourite Gospel passages: John 21 - Peter + other apostles going fishing, Jesus appearing to them and the events that followed. It came to mind because its theme of handing over control to Christ has become more and more pertinent for me in recent months with a change of community lined up for me this summer. I will write more about this at a later date. For now I will just say that I don't actually know which of 2 possible communities I will be going to yet. I have to trust that in handing over total control of my life to Christ through the medium of my Superiors within my congregation (vow of Obedience) I will end up where God wants me to be. Of that I am sure, though never in my life have I felt myself living out that abandonment and handing over of self as radically as I am at present. And it feels liberating.
My life as a Brother has followed fairly predictable tracks much of the time since I joined in 1990 (various stages of training, teaching + ministry). But now, more than ever before, I feel as if I am leaving comfort zones behind. Having navigated inland waters, always within sight of land and known ports of call, it's now time to set out on open ocean water and see where the wind of God's spirit blows me. The name for our Archdiocesan parish programme here on Merseyside - "Leaving Safe Harbours" (involving reorganising and redynamising parish life within new structures) could very appropriately be applied to my own life. Over the years, I've had various specialisms in my ministry (a real jack-of-all-trades) and have been blessed with the opportunity to develop certains skills. But as yet, the special set of circumstances I/we find ourselves in mean that I have no idea which ministry/ministries my Superiors will be asking me to fulfil next year.
This encourages me in my prayer to make mine the words of Mary at the Annunciation (Luke 1) "I am the servant of the Lord. Let what you say be done to me".
Bro. James - April 2007
John 21
This particular Gospel passage is one of my favourites. I've always been very fond of Peter's story and in particular this part, the culmination of the Gospel story and the prelude to his mission as an apostle or messenger of Jesus. In that sense it is also a pivotal moment in his life and in hindsight, the life of the Church. Jesus carries out a wonderful act of mercy that brings inner healing to Peter and sends him to "Feed my lambs" and "Follow me" (the healing coming through the threefold question "Do you love me?" in response to Peter's threefold denial of Jesus in the Temple).
But let's start at the beginning. Jesus has already appeared to the disciples in the upper room, but they are probably still reeling from the joyous shock of that event and the subsequent spiritual gifts bestowed upon them. We hear Peter say to a group of disciples who were with him, "I'm going fishing". I love this blunt statement of his. Notice also how it's Peter who takes the lead and the others follow. When in doubt, go back to what you are familiar with. Ok, the followers probably needed some more food to eat, but an activity like fishing would give them the chance to just have a break, do something manual that doesn't need too much reflection and just take stock.... take a deep breath before facing the daunting task of carrying on Jesus' mission.
However, what should have been a simple night-time fishing outing took on a whole unexpected importance for them, starting from the fact that they caught nothing. The Sea of Galilee, probably teeming with fish, a group of experienced fishermen and yet no joy. I can just imagine Peter's frustration. The one thing he's meant to be good at and he can't even do that anymore! How's he going to cope as a preacher and father-figure for his fellow followers of Christ? Notice that when the man on the shore calls to them we are not told that Peter calls back to him, only that "they" answered. Peter was probably scowling away to himself at the other end of the boat mending a net, perhaps, and probably a little embarrassed and annoyed at this "friend" on the shore and his nosey question.
But, when the man says, "Throw the net out to starboard and you'll find something," what is it that makes Peter (albeit perhaps reluctantly) do what the man says? Even though the later words of John, "It is the Lord!", suggest that at this stage Peter hasn't recognised the man as Jesus, is there something in the way the man speaks that reminds him of his master? I tend to think that Peter was being taught a lesson in humility. He, the experienced fisherman somehow found it in himself to follow the advice of a stranger (though thinking perhaps "If he's a fisherman, he certainly isn't from round here!") in the one area of life where he normally felt totally in control: fishing. He was being asked to hand over that control in an act of faith, and boy, was that faith repaid in fish! (An act of faith followed by another in John's recognition of Jesus: "It is the Lord!").
This handing over of control, handing over the reins of his life to another finds an echo in Jesus' subsequent words to Peter in relation to the way his life will develop: " 'Somebody else will put a belt round you and take you where you would rather not go'... the kind of death by which Peter would give glory to God." Not exactly reassuring words. What follows is much more so: "Follow me." As if to say, "Follow me and everything will be alright."
I find that I myself am being encouraged to hand over total control of my life to Jesus, not just as a one off (I did that already when taking my vows as a Brother), but day after day after day. That's the tough part. I don't know if it's getting easier, but I am certainly more and more conscious of doing so, which can only be a good thing. Life's hardships can teach us valuable lessons in this respect, lessons in humility. Such hardships could overwhelm, but if you place yourself in God's hands, totally, you can indeed never fall any lower. On the contrary, he will lift you back up onto your feet and nudge you back on your way.
Lord, into your hands I commend my spirit.
:-)
My life as a Brother has followed fairly predictable tracks much of the time since I joined in 1990 (various stages of training, teaching + ministry). But now, more than ever before, I feel as if I am leaving comfort zones behind. Having navigated inland waters, always within sight of land and known ports of call, it's now time to set out on open ocean water and see where the wind of God's spirit blows me. The name for our Archdiocesan parish programme here on Merseyside - "Leaving Safe Harbours" (involving reorganising and redynamising parish life within new structures) could very appropriately be applied to my own life. Over the years, I've had various specialisms in my ministry (a real jack-of-all-trades) and have been blessed with the opportunity to develop certains skills. But as yet, the special set of circumstances I/we find ourselves in mean that I have no idea which ministry/ministries my Superiors will be asking me to fulfil next year.
This encourages me in my prayer to make mine the words of Mary at the Annunciation (Luke 1) "I am the servant of the Lord. Let what you say be done to me".
********************************
Bro. James - April 2007
John 21
This particular Gospel passage is one of my favourites. I've always been very fond of Peter's story and in particular this part, the culmination of the Gospel story and the prelude to his mission as an apostle or messenger of Jesus. In that sense it is also a pivotal moment in his life and in hindsight, the life of the Church. Jesus carries out a wonderful act of mercy that brings inner healing to Peter and sends him to "Feed my lambs" and "Follow me" (the healing coming through the threefold question "Do you love me?" in response to Peter's threefold denial of Jesus in the Temple).
But let's start at the beginning. Jesus has already appeared to the disciples in the upper room, but they are probably still reeling from the joyous shock of that event and the subsequent spiritual gifts bestowed upon them. We hear Peter say to a group of disciples who were with him, "I'm going fishing". I love this blunt statement of his. Notice also how it's Peter who takes the lead and the others follow. When in doubt, go back to what you are familiar with. Ok, the followers probably needed some more food to eat, but an activity like fishing would give them the chance to just have a break, do something manual that doesn't need too much reflection and just take stock.... take a deep breath before facing the daunting task of carrying on Jesus' mission.
However, what should have been a simple night-time fishing outing took on a whole unexpected importance for them, starting from the fact that they caught nothing. The Sea of Galilee, probably teeming with fish, a group of experienced fishermen and yet no joy. I can just imagine Peter's frustration. The one thing he's meant to be good at and he can't even do that anymore! How's he going to cope as a preacher and father-figure for his fellow followers of Christ? Notice that when the man on the shore calls to them we are not told that Peter calls back to him, only that "they" answered. Peter was probably scowling away to himself at the other end of the boat mending a net, perhaps, and probably a little embarrassed and annoyed at this "friend" on the shore and his nosey question.
But, when the man says, "Throw the net out to starboard and you'll find something," what is it that makes Peter (albeit perhaps reluctantly) do what the man says? Even though the later words of John, "It is the Lord!", suggest that at this stage Peter hasn't recognised the man as Jesus, is there something in the way the man speaks that reminds him of his master? I tend to think that Peter was being taught a lesson in humility. He, the experienced fisherman somehow found it in himself to follow the advice of a stranger (though thinking perhaps "If he's a fisherman, he certainly isn't from round here!") in the one area of life where he normally felt totally in control: fishing. He was being asked to hand over that control in an act of faith, and boy, was that faith repaid in fish! (An act of faith followed by another in John's recognition of Jesus: "It is the Lord!").
This handing over of control, handing over the reins of his life to another finds an echo in Jesus' subsequent words to Peter in relation to the way his life will develop: " 'Somebody else will put a belt round you and take you where you would rather not go'... the kind of death by which Peter would give glory to God." Not exactly reassuring words. What follows is much more so: "Follow me." As if to say, "Follow me and everything will be alright."
I find that I myself am being encouraged to hand over total control of my life to Jesus, not just as a one off (I did that already when taking my vows as a Brother), but day after day after day. That's the tough part. I don't know if it's getting easier, but I am certainly more and more conscious of doing so, which can only be a good thing. Life's hardships can teach us valuable lessons in this respect, lessons in humility. Such hardships could overwhelm, but if you place yourself in God's hands, totally, you can indeed never fall any lower. On the contrary, he will lift you back up onto your feet and nudge you back on your way.
Lord, into your hands I commend my spirit.
:-)
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Comments
The big radical thing was to defy the world and do what God told you to. The litle radical thing is to confirm that decision every day. Doing what the boss (as opposed to the Boss) says is just like being a married man! ;-)
Someone once said to me that having become a Brother "you've made it, your life is sorted". This got me thinking and I had to tell him that no, one may think that, but just as a marriage has to be worked at each day until there is such a meeting of souls that you are truly as one (and even then things can go wrong), with religious life and the priesthood as soon as you start to box off your life, get comfortable, get into a routine... then the rot can start to set in. And one day you might wake up and think... why am I here? Where's the passion, the idealism I once had? Where's my vocation?
One of my heroes is a 93 year-old French Jesuit, Gustave Martelet (Vat 11 expert, theologian, scientist, specialist in theology of creation) who I had the pleasure to work with in Paris during my studies and who I call still in to see whenever passing through Paris. He has such a sense of wonderment and enthusiasm for the world he lives in and for people... still feels he has things to learn, that he hasn't got things "sussed". Is still writing, finishing off his "Summa". A few years back after 3 years work on it (following 2 books on Teilhard de Chardin) he felt he had to go back and start again and re-think his whole approach to theology and so went back to Augustine, the Church Fathers, etc... He's convinced that God will keep him alive as long as it takes to finish the book, and so he's not worried about taking his time to get things right. Hopes to have it published by the summer.
That openness, humility, willingness to learn form others, enthusiasm, total trust in God... that's what I aspire to and it's not automatic. Has to really be worked at (in my case at least).
It's not so much the not knowing where I'm going to be sent that's important (2 communities rather than 2 congregations - I'm not leaving the De La Mennais Brothers!), it's the fact that I am more conscious than ever before of the radical freedom that comes from handing your life over to someone else and that at the moment I am living that out (I hope) more than ever before. It is the first time that a community move for me has been decided like this. Liverpool has been my base in community (apart from the 5 years in France) since I came as a Uni. student to live with the Brothers in '87. And also, because I have so many ties here (friends, colleagues, etc...), far more than when I left home at 18 (couldn't wait to leave and travel 250 miles up north), it feels like more of an emotional rupture too.
To sum it all up, for me the first step on the journey is just as radical as the last one and all those in between. Each step is a step for Christ and (God willing) in his footsteps. From the outside, people see the first one is the biggest. And really I suppose they are right. But for myself, in the hidden secret of my relationship with God, it's a different story. And for some, like John of the Cross, the nearer you get to total union with God, the harder it actually gets to keep moving, especially when all around is darkness.
Hope this makes sense.