Novice Reflections
To follow Jesus is to undertake a journey of faith, a , exacting, trying, tremendous journey. All of us are called to this, and religious and priests in a particularly undivided way. I want to point out an aspect of three of Our Lord’s resurrection appearances which illustrate the dynamics of a vocation – of undertaking this journey – in a rather remarkable way. But I want to approach it from what might appear at first as a peculiar angle, that is, through the lens of literary device. The Gospels are no less historically true because they display aspects of a very good drama; rather, we should expect that if they are what they claim to be, they would reveal the best drama of all time: that of the rescue and redemption of our race, all the more dramatic because it actually happened.
Long ago Aristotle pointed out in his Poetics that the two devices by which good drama unfolds are reversal and recognition. We see this in any good movie or book. At a certain point in the unfolding action the plot takes a turn we did not anticipate (reversal) or someone is revealed to be someone we, or the characters within the story, didn’t expect (recognition). These moments are always gripping. An example of reversal is the scene at the beginning of the movie Braveheart when William Wallace almost single-handedly avenges the murder of his wife by leading a rebellion against the occupying English soldiers; alternatively, the revealing of Darth Vader as Luke Skywalker’s father in The Empire Strikes Back is a well-known moment of recognition.
It seems to me that every person’s vocation involves a progressive recognition which involves many reversals. Namely, to discern a vocation is to recognize more and more clearly the face of Jesus graciously bidding us to a particular place and task while realizing that answering the call to this task will involve many reversals we did not anticipate. We see this vividly in at least three of the resurrection appearances.
In St. John’s gospel, Mary Magdalen stays behind to weep at the tomb of Jesus after the other women, with whom she had come to anoint the body, had gone home bereft. Her piety and love for Our Lord in the midst of a desperate situation was met by Jesus’ appearance to her in the humble garb of a gardener. An exquisite moment it is when, after asking this would-be gardener where Jesus’ body is, in the midst of her desperate grief the Lord simply says, “Mary,” and is recognized in a flash by a (we can easily deduce) transformed and ecstatic Magdalen, who immediately cries out “Rabbouni!” and flies to embrace him. The man she thought was dead was already in her midst, gently calling her to recognize the reality of His resurrection, the reality of his current call upon her life though a moment before she was in the depths of anguish.
In St. Luke’s absorbing narrative of the two men on the road to Emmaus, Jesus reveals himself not by gently speaking the name of the other, but in “the breaking of the bread.” Like Mary Magdalen, these two men (one of whom an early tradition says was Luke himself) were confused and disappointed over the seemingly frustrated plan for the redemption of Israel. Luke writes, “While they were talking and discussing together, Jesus himself drew near and went with them, but their eyes were kept from recognizing him.” To see the drama of the event as it unfolds is to marvel! Jesus first feigns ignorance of his own crucifixion in order to engage them in dialogue. They lament to him over the loss of the one they thought was to be the vindicator of Israel. Jesus rebukes them and unfolds the Scriptures to them at which point, we are told later, their “hearts were burning.” The Lord almost leaves (!) to go onto another town but the two invite him to come for dinner. When Jesus breaks the bread “their eyes were opened and they recognized him; and he vanished out of their sight.” Beaming with joy and excitement, they return to Jerusalem to share their experience. Why did Jesus hide himself for so long then almost depart? Why did he rebuke them when they were honestly searching? Apparently he wanted these two men to feel the loneliness and desperation of a world without Him and their own inability to discover the deepest truths apart from his grace, so that upon His revealing they could give themselves to him all the more. Such a reversal can only be described as the best kind of drama, culminating in a recognition of Jesus’ face as the Eucharist is broken at their home. In a quite marvelous way, the episode is a comfort to any of us: in the midst of our strivings, the Lord is with us, waiting and watching for the right moment to show us the depth of His love, to reveal His face to us, especially in the Eucharist.
Finally, St. John relates his famous account of the appearance of Jesus at the Sea of Tiberias. The disciples, led by Peter, had gone out fishing and after laboring all night had caught nothing. They too had not fully digested the meaning of the Lord’s resurrection, for Peter was still desiring to continue in the trade at which he had labored for his whole life. As day breaks a mysterious man from the shore cries out to them to cast their nets on the other side. After they do and pull in a tremendous catch, Peter fails to recognize the man on shore in a similar way that the two on the road failed to recognize Christ already in their midst. It is John, whom tradition says is a figure of the Church’s contemplative dimension, who declares, “It is the Lord,” at which point the ever-zealous Peter girds himself and leaps into the water to swim towards his Master.
We all enjoy good stories. And, Aristotle would point out to us, good stories depend upon exciting plot twists and surprising revelations of characters. The reason we feel this excitement at reversal and recognition, I would propose, is because God has inscribed into the human heart the knowledge that we ourselves are part of a drama; but our theatre is the world, the characters are our friends, family, and neighbors and the playwright is the Author of Life Himself. This Author has given his characters a remarkable role in playing out of the divine drama called human history. In that drama, the plot development is the story of ancient man – the Fall of Adam and the striving of Israel; the climactic scene is the appearance within the narrative, in hidden and human form, of the Author Himself; the tremendous reversal takes place the third day after Calvary when He rises from the dead; and the recognition, we might just say, lies in all human history since, beginning with the disciples and apostles coming to recognize him amidst their pains (like Mary), their searchings (like the two on the road), and their human plans and circumstances (like Peter). It is for us, then, to continue the drama: to listen carefully so we can hear the Lord gently calling our name as we grieve at the tomb of our frustrated earthly plans; to greet him in our neighbor and be especially attentive in the breaking of the bread; to see him working through our ordinary human circumstances as he calls us to complete and total commitment; to utter ardently with David the words of the twenty-seventh psalm: “Thou hast said, ‘Seek ye my face.’ My heart says to thee, ‘Thy face, Lord, do I seek.’ Hide not thy face from me.”
Thy Face, Lord, Do I Seek
Br. Peter Junípero Hannah
Friday, May 11, 2007
“We can hope at last to find our true and lasting identities.”
