Thursday of week 1 in Ordinary Time
(Saint Antony, Abbot)
Hebrews 3:7-14 | Psalm 94(95):6-11 | Mark 1:40-45
‘Mind you say nothing to anyone, but go and show yourself to the priest, and make the offering for your healing prescribed by Moses as evidence of your recovery.’
Mark 1:44
We can be quite certain that Jesus knew what the leper he’d just cured would do. It’s a foregone conclusion that anyone who’s had a life-changing experience will blab about it, despite any instructions to the contrary.
So why don’t we blab about Jesus?
Could it be that we just haven’t experienced the joy of knowing Him in our lives, because we’ve steeped ourselves in worldly cares and pleasures as mature adults are expected to do, instead of opening our hearts and minds to Him like children?
Some years ago, I had the pleasure of asking a garrulous young boy a very simple question: What are you thankful for?
Out poured a torrent of things…
from the rain in which he’d taken respite from the heat (not particularly thankful for the concerned mother who yanked him out prematurely with a stern scolding),
to the dog who’d licked him silly (but initially frightened him with its loud bark),
to the extra sweets from the doctor’s office he’d sneaked in his pockets when his mom wasn’t looking.
Ask an adult the same question, and you’d probably get only a suspicious glare, or a carefully-considered response, or “nothing, really”. (You know that to be true, even with yourself.)
Share the child’s responses with an adult, and you’d typically get “aiyoh, sure get sick one, what’s the mother doing hah?!?!” We’d see them as typical childish nonsense, completely undignified for a grown person, if not a clear case for Child Protective Service to take up with the hapless parent.
So when it comes to sharing God with others, it’s no wonder we’re terribly unconvincing. The joy that His love elicits is not a calculated test of our erudition and biblical knowledge, but an unrestrained childlike lightness that comes straight from the heart. Bearing witness by the joyful way we live Christian lives is far more convincing than chapter-and-verse from the Good Book, complete with admonitions and exhortations.
I’m reminded somehow of Lewis Carroll’s famous nonsense poem Jabberwocky. It’s not meant to make any sense, just the reverse: Trying to analyze it to death just destroys the beauty of it all. Best to just go with the flow and appreciate the emotions it conjures up.
So, brothers and sisters, whenever we’re moved to blab about the Good News, let’s not hold back, yeah?
Lord, enflame us with Your love. Amen.