Fr Mark Schultz

Dear Friend,

One of the weirdest things in the gospels, I think, is how often Jesus tells folks “not to make him known.” We hear in our Office Gospel today about just such an instance. Usually, people are really bad at following Jesus’ instructions in this regard—they wind up telling lots of folks about what Jesus has done for them, and this sometimes brings more followers and it sometimes brings harsh opposition from religious authorities who’d much rather Jesus go about his business in some more respectable and less wonderful way. On this side of the Great Commission (“Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you.” Matt xxiix.19-20a), and from the perspective of one overwhelmed with incredible joy and gratitude at being healed, made whole, restored (and let’s admit it, that’s precisely who we are, we who are being healed in the hospital of the Church), it just seems odd and maybe even a little inconsistent that Jesus didn’t want to be made known.

There are reasons for Jesus' reluctance, though, and our Office Gospel suggests a few them, but I’d like to focus in on just one. We’re told that Jesus is precisely the sort of person who “will not wrangle or cry aloud, nor will anyone hear his voice in the streets.” There are a couple things this suggests, but perhaps the evocative and important one to consider is this: in your life and mine, Jesus’ voice will not be the loudest voice in the room.

That’s not to say that sometimes Jesus voice won’t be loud and clear in our lives at times! But it is to say a couple important things at least:

1—Jesus will not be competing for your attention.

Amidst the myriad distractions of life, Jesus will not take his place among them as if he were just another one of them.

Amidst the ideologies, programs, philosophies, religions, political platforms, pundits, policies, beliefs and commitments both sane and silly competing for your attention in the marketplace of ideas, you will not find Jesus among them as if he were just another (ostensibly better) alternative.

If you’re looking for a distraction, belief in Jesus and initiation into Christ’s Body, the Church, is a staggeringly poor option. To believe in Jesus is to engage more fully, more wholly, in and with life and its living by receiving as one’s own the life of the One who is Life. There’s no room here for distraction or diversion…and there’s nothing particularly good or illuminating that will come of seeing the Church, the life of discipleship, the life of prayer, as just more (ostensibly edifying) stuff we can be doing with our time. The God who gives all wants all of us, not just our free time, not just the parts of us or the versions of us we’re willing to offer at any given moment. All.

And the voice of the Word is not like any other voice. How could it be otherwise? In what way would we require the voice that mysteriously commanded light TO BE to compete for our attention or affiliation like some pandering politician of whatever stripe or allegiance? In what way ought the Word convince us of anything, particularly if being convinced means that from the get-go we mistake the Word’s message with a mere intellectual proposition that requires argumentation and reasonable assent rather than a call to faith; a call to right relationship with God, humanity, and all of creation (including ourselves); a call to walk the Way which is none other than the fullness of the person of Jesus Christ, not some idea like any other?

2—If we want to hear Jesus’ voice, we need to learn to listen. Prayer is certainly our friend here—we must ourselves be quiet if we’re to hear the still small voice. But also important is paying attention to the sorts of voices to whom Jesus paid attention, with which Jesus’ own voice very intentionally identifies—quiet voices, marginalized voices, those who have lost their voice, those whose voices have been stolen from them, those whose experience of oppression has silenced them. We must also enter that silence—in solidarity, in faith, in hope, in love—if we’re to hear the voice of Jesus, if we’re to discover ourselves as the sorts of people who don’t merely talk about Jesus, but a people in and through whom the voice of Jesus speaks.

Friend, Our Lord desires to make himself known in you. He’s not going to attempt to convince you that it’s a good idea. He’s not going to stand in the marketplace or go on CNN or Fox or Oprah and debate with you or others; he’s not going to wrangle or negotiate or bargain or quibble with you. He’s going to stand with the outcast, he’s going to speak from the margins—your own and the world’s—he’s going to thrust out to you his nail-pierced hands and whisper to you, gently, gently, “I love you. I love you. I love you. Take my hand. I love you. Receive my life. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

I pray, dear Friend, that we may hear and listen to that quiet, that gentle, that startling, that insistent, that powerful, that beautiful voice today!

Under the Mercy,
Fr Mark+