Follow me

In this killing that some call senseless we are brought to our senses.  Here we find out who we most truly are, because here is the One who is what we are called to be.  The derelict cries, "Come, follow me."  Follow him there?  We recoil.  We close our ears.  We hurry on to Easter.  But we will not know what to do with Easter's light if we shun the friendship of the darkness that is wisdom's way to light. - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon


These words could seem accusing: " . . . here is the One who is what we are called to be."  I find I have two natural responses that grip me.

On the one hand, I protest: I know I'm supposed to be that, but I'm so much less than that.  But these words are not offered in accusation, to lead us to despair.  They are meant to remind us that we are called beyond ourselves, but that we can be transformed into the image of Christ in the world by the work of the Holy Spirit only to the degree that we are willing to embrace this destination.  In the cross we see agony, while Christ sees perfect love.

At the same time, I run.  I do what I can to self-fulfill the first part of Jesus' prayer, "Let this cup pass from me," without the humble acceptance of the second part, "Not my will, but Thine be done."  Yes, this is the natural response.  After all, there is no wisdom in embracing pain for pain's own sake.  Yet we often seek to avoid even pain that we know in our heart is ours to bear.

Contrast mere masochism, though, against the pain we bear for the sake of true, selfless love.  Not perverse codependency.  Not delusional obsession.  Rather, the real giving of myself for the sake of another's needs.

That's different from any mere "martyr complex," yet goes way beyond sharing the leftovers of our life.  I've got to be willing to walk through the darkness for the sake of the light that can only be found on the other side of it.