Open or Closed

You might remember that in May our diocese ordained five men to the priesthood, and within the last few weeks, those new priests all have begun their parish assignments. They are doing so in parishes different from the ones they are from. Some people find this strange; they think it makes better sense to have a new priest begin his ministry in his home parish, where he already is known and has a base of support. But in reality, the opposite is true: it is usually much better for a priest, especially a new priest, to serve in a community where he is not well known.

We see the reason why in today’s Gospel. Jesus goes to his native place, his hometown, where the people have heard that he has become famous for his preaching and miracles. When he preaches in their synagogue, however, rather than be impressed with him, they become contemptuous. We are told “they took offense at him,” either because they don’t see the practicality of his preaching mission, or perhaps because they think he’s become too high and mighty. They know his background, the members of his extended family. Just who does he think he is, pretending to be a man of God?

The irony, of course, is that the people of his hometown *don’t* know who Jesus really is. Their very familiarity with him is an obstacle to seeing his true identity, which comes not from his earthly family from his heavenly Father. Because they prejudge Jesus, they are not able to hear in his voice the voice of God speaking to them, and so they are closed off from seeing his power. We are told Jesus only worked a few miracles among them because their faith was so greatly lacking.

Christ in the Synagogue at Nazareth (1658) by Gerbrand van de Eeckhout

This Gospel should prompt within us a certain cautiousness about our own openness to hearing God’s voice and how that openness relates to our faith. Most of us think, “I’d be glad to hear what God has to say, if only I knew!” That’s surely true when what he has to say is pleasing to us, but what about when it isn’t? When the Lord wants to speak something more challenging to us – forgiving that person that we don’t want to, or turning away from that sin that we like and have become accustomed to, or trusting him in a way that seems scary – it’s then that we might be tempted to think, “No, God couldn’t possibly be speaking to me in that way.” We end up thwarting the voice of God, and thus limiting what he can do with us, precisely because we think we know better. 

I find this often happens in relation to how we listen to the Church. As Catholics, we believe that the Church is not just the collection of believers; it is the community of faith, the Mystical Body of Christ guided by the Holy Spirit, in and through whom God really does speak to us. The question is whether we are always open to believing that. When our pope or our bishop teaches on a topic that we don’t want to hear about, we might be tempted to think: “That’s just the man talking, not God!” Or when the pastor preaches a challenging sermon, we might be tempted to say, “Oh Father, it’s so nice that you actually believe that, but that’s just not very realistic to how life really is.” Or if a friend or fellow parishioner invites us to reform our life, and embrace what the Church teaches rather than the culture, we might tempted to respond, “No, I just don’t think God would ask me to do that.” In all of those situations, and more, we have the choice either to open ourselves to what the power of God can do simply via our faith in him, or else to close ourselves off by believing that we know better.

I remember a particular encounter that I had shortly after I was ordained with a man who had fallen on rocky times. He was having trouble seeing God’s will for his life, and frankly, was doubting that God really cared much about him at all. I gave him some counsel that I knew would be difficult for him to hear but which was in accord with Church teaching and what I knew God wanted him to hear. A few months later he came back to me, and he said, “Father, thank you so much. You know, I didn’t believe you at first – I thought, ‘What does this young priest know about it?’ But then I did what you said, and you were exactly right.” God worked a miracle for that man, precisely because he was humble enough not to close himself to what was difficult to hear.

Friends, may we always have that same openness – to hear what we need to, even when it is hard. Like the people of Jesus’s hometown, foolishness and hardheartedness can be obstacles of our own making that prevent us from hearing how the Lord speaks to us. The truth is that he often does so in surprising ways, through unexpected voices, and even in that which may be difficult to hear. But if we trust in him, if as members of the Mystical Body of Christ we humbly open ourselves to what he is saying and not close ourselves in on our own presumptions, we can be sure that he will make his power known to us. Perhaps he may even do that which is miraculous – “What mighty deeds are wrought by his hands!”