The term “influencer” has gained its prominence in our social media-driven culture and there are so many influencers on social media platforms. They’re not traditional celebrities but regular everyday folks with expertise or a passion for a specific niche. If their content is fun, useful, and issue-making, many people will follow their social media channels and they become social media celebrities. Does this create any income? Yes, it does. This is a serious business nowadays. For infants, toddlers, and their parents, Ms. Rachel, for example, would be a YouTube star. Since 2019, she has started creating educational videos for her toddler son who had speech difficulty, knowing that there were not that many useful videos available. She has more than 7 million subscribers and over 1 billion views.
One way or another, we have our influencer and we become one whether that influence is positive or negative. As followers of Jesus, we are definitely influenced by Jesus and his teachings. What about Jesus himself? Who was he influenced by? In today’s gospel, we see one person who would be a significant figure or influence in Jesus’ life. That is his strange and mysterious cousin St. John the Baptizer. He is a hermit living in the wilderness of Judea, eating locusts and wild honey. St. John plays a crucial role in two of Jesus’ life-changing events. The first one is the baptism of Jesus. St. John is the means to affirm and confirm Jesus of God’s inner presence. Jesus’ baptism is both personal and universal. We see his encounter with God’s presence dwelling in him which is expressed metaphorically in the voice coming from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” This is indeed personal but also universal in that we too are to hear the voice from heaven that we are beloved. The second event that St. John has a huge impact on Jesus is his arrest. He is arrested for his uncompromising criticism of Herod Antipas for marrying his brother's ex-wife Herodias. We very much know how he dies. This tragic event prompts Jesus to embrace and own his vocation, continuing St. John's teaching of God's pervasive presence in everyone and everything. Yet, there is a missing puzzle piece that connects these two events where St. John plays a significant role. Jesus’ encounter with the Breath of God in his breath, embodying the experience of God’s indwelling presence is a costly one. It has an economic consequence that he has to “spend” time and “pay” attention to God’s presence. (This insight is from Clare Carlisle in her book, "Spinoza's Religion" on p. 24.) God is freely and omnipresently available but it isn’t free to be cultivated. One has to work on it. Any radical existential change is costly which makes it worth more than anything in this world. The Spirit thus drives Jesus to the wilderness where he faces all the inner voices that provoke his desire for sensual pleasure (turning stones to bread), honor (throwing himself from the top of the temple and angels protecting him), and wealth (bowing to the power that be), and accuse him for not having any of them. (Matthew 4:1-11) When the light of God shines upon our minds, it reveals every single desire we may have. The wilderness is the time and place where Jesus candidly steps back and sees them for what they are. This temptation isn’t really a type of temptation of choosing Satan over God or whether the presence of God is compatible with sensual pleasure, honor, and wealth. The issue is that they distract one from being wholly present in God’s presence by creating anxiety and fear between security that they may seemingly bring and insecurity of lacking them. This place of the wilderness is a fitting image of Lent for us. But before we place ourselves in the wilderness of looking deep in fear and anxiety that distract us from God’s presence, let’s not forget the first and second events of Jesus in which St. John participates: his baptism and calling to share the good news. We remember our baptism and the good news of Jesus. We keep in mind that our baptism awakens and resurrects our sense of God’s inner presence. This light or enlightened sense of the divine presence in our human nature sheds light on our hidden sources of fear and anxiety. You may feel like all alone in this wilderness but be assured that God is ever present. The saints living and dead are with you. Fellow companions are together in this wilderness as they themselves are going through it. May the light of the resurrection continue to expose what’s binding us and lead us to the true good and freedom of the Spirit. The Sunday gospel lesson before Lent begins always ends with the transfiguration story. (Additionally August 6 is observed as the feast of the transfiguration.) Placing this narrative before Ash Wednesday is pedagogically strategic, serving as a reminder of Lent's ultimate destination. Lent, often perceived as a somber liturgical season, is after all oriented towards the resurrection. A more fitting analogy might liken Lent to a red light, Holy Week to a yellow light, and Easter to a green light. The imagery of the transfigured Jesus serves as a preview of the resurrection, helping us keep the green light in focus.
I would like to elaborate on the traffic light analogy. If we consider the green light as a symbol for waiting for Easter or the resurrection of Jesus without contemplating its relevance to our daily lives, it might seem like a mere ritual. Approaching Lent, Holy Week, and Easter in this manner may have little impact on our spiritual growth. What we aspire for is to infuse significance into this green light. We aim to adopt an active stance rather than a passive one. Our intention is not solely to anticipate the risen Christ but to recognize and manifest that resurrection within ourselves. Just as the incarnation prompts us to acknowledge God's presence in our human hearts, the resurrection involves a transformative process of aligning or letting go of ourselves to God’s presence. This process may feel akin to shedding unskillful self-images we've constructed, resembling a form of self-dying. Subsequently, it propels us to dwell in and enact that divine presence in our relationships with others. The manifestation of God's presence through our interactions holds the transformative potential to transfigure all our relationships, even though initially, observable changes may not be apparent. Let's examine Peter's reaction to the vision of the transfigured Jesus engaging with Moses and Elijah in today's gospel lesson. Peter, in his well-intentioned eagerness, unwittingly mirrors the mistakes we might have made in his position. His initial response is one of understandable terror, and he suggests, "Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah" (Mark 9:5). St. Mark notes that Peter is at a loss for words, but his proposal to construct three dwellings sheds light on his and our inclination to assume a passive role. The question arises: why three dwellings? What about Peter's own dwelling? It seems the green light is perceived as reserved for someone else, not an invitation for him to take initiative. The dazzling glorification of Jesus' appearance signifies his embodiment of God's presence, revealing it from the inside out. If we acknowledge Jesus' proclamation of God's kingdom within everyone, as affirmed in the confession of sin on page 1, "We forget that we are your home,'' we must also remember that we too are God's dwelling place, not solely Jesus, Moses, and Elijah. Peter is called to construct his dwelling alongside those of Jesus, Moses, and Elijah, recognizing that the green light extends not only to them but to Peter himself as well as us all. A more fitting response to the vision of transfiguration might be, "Help me manifest God's dwelling within me, illuminating it from the inside out." I leave you all with an excerpt from Rainer Maria Rilke's letter titled "Charged with the Transfiguration of All Things" dated November 26, 1925: “...Little cemeteries that we are, adorned with the flowers of our futile gestures, containing so many corpses that demand that we testify to their souls. All prickly with crosses, all covered with inscriptions, all spaded up and shaken by countless daily burials, we are charged with the transmutation, the resurrection, the transfiguration of all things. For how can we save what is visible if not by using the language of absence, of the invisible?” The enlarged verses (Mark 1:35 and 1:38) of today’s gospel lesson in the printed program are not a mistake. While the gospel story is filled with Jesus’ curing and healing ministry, this mischievous way of emphasizing two verses may help us focus on 1) what would be his daily spiritual practice and remind us of 2) what he is called to do.
1) "In the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed." To me, this verse is a hidden treasure that shows a glimpse of Jesus’ spiritual practice. We can easily imagine that this is not just one occasion that Jesus gets up early in the morning to pray in solitude and quietude. Suppose you’re trying to get up at 5 am without setting an alarm. It would be quite difficult to be up around 5 am unless you’re constantly waking yourself up to check the time. Just as it would be hard for us to do, it would be for Jesus unless it becomes a daily habit. Of course, this comes out of my personal experience which I presume you can resonate with. I can get up at 6 am without my phone next to me. In my case, I can do it because I need to go to work. But on Saturdays, I am not always up at 6 am because there’s no work. This verse's value isn't solely about early rising—it symbolizes how Jesus draws strength, wisdom, and courage to fulfill his calling. Through solitude and prayer, he transitions ordinary time (kronos) into divine moments (kairos), transforming a deserted place into holy ground, akin to Moses encountering the burning bush (Ref. Exodus 3:5, "Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground."). We have no information what kind of prayers Jesus would say but we do know his breath is with him just as no living person stops breathing. My assumption is that he attends and attunes to his breath to focus on God’s presence. This may require him to be in a quiet place and time. The kingdom of God is experienced in deep quietude and concentration. 2) "I may proclaim the message there also; for that is what I came out to do." Jesus doesn’t seem to forget his initial mission given to him. That is to share the good news of God’s kingdom or presence (as you are aware, both kingdom and presence are theologically interchangeable) dwelling in one’s heart. Recall the comments of those who hear his teaching from last Sunday’s gospel lesson: “They were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes.” (Mark 1:22) Jesus’ authority comes from his presence that transmits God’s presence. There’s no better way to convey the good news of God’s presence than to embody it in order to evoke that very presence and existence of God in those who hear him. Jesus brings what he experiences in the early morning time at a deserted place to everyone he encounters. This would be his method of preaching and proclaiming the kingdom of God. No talk can convince minds. Even a salesperson or an advertisement shows the benefits of what they sell. Jesus reveals the presence of God in his own presence. Stories of Jesus’ healing miracles then hint at us what God’s presence can do to people, that is, how God’s presence transforms their lives. Jesus’ role is to bridge people and God by awakening them that God is already within their hearts. He points them inwardly to look deep in their hearts. This contemplative penetration is downwardly vertical that it cuts through the depth of our being. In this vertically downward direction of our concentration in stilling prayer, heaven is no longer found above but resides within our earthly bodies, making “Thy kingdom come and thy will be done on earth as in heaven” a reality. As we ponder on those two verses, we are then left with two questions that can help us examine ourselves. One is “Where is my time and place for solitude and quietude to be restored and rejuvenated in God’s presence?” The other is “How skillfully can I embody God’s presence in my daily interaction with people?” The essence of Jesus' teaching lies in making the presence of God available, accessible, and omnipresent to the inner life of every human being. This concept, distinct from the confession of Jesus as Lord and Savior, is a central theme throughout the gospels. Jesus refers to this divine presence as "the kingdom of God," a term that, although easily misconstrued as political, transcends earthly realms.
This idea becomes particularly poignant in the context of political tensions of the time, where figures like Judas, associated with the Sicarii subgroup of Zealots engaged in anti-Roman activities, could easily misinterpret Jesus' message. Consequently, Jesus faces accusations of political crimes. However, his vision extends beyond the political landscape, urging individuals to live attentively to God's inner presence. His teachings, learned through interactions with diverse groups, emphasize universality and applicability to all, making them ethical guidelines for living a good life rooted in God's presence. The crux of Jesus' message is not about subscribing to a set of beliefs but about fostering a personal, intimate encounter with God's presence. Comparing his teachings with those of the scribes, Jesus offers hope rather than rigid rules. It's not about "what ought to be done" but an acknowledgment of "what is," leading to "what can" be achieved. God’s grace, love, and compassion are accessible, available, and free of charge. Jesus teaches not just what he believes to be true but what he experiences. He then exemplifies how he lives according to what he teaches. If he can do it, all those at the synagogue who hear him can do it too. But are they willing? Admiring his teaching with authority doesn’t guarantee they’ll try it out. Despite the authority in his teaching, not everyone is willing to embrace change. The presence of an unclean spirit in the synagogue symbolizes resistance to Jesus' call for a radical change of heart. (Let’s go beyond common images from horror movies whenever demon-possessed or unclean spirits appear in the gospel stories.) People, inherently averse to change, often resist disruptions to their stability. Neuroscience supports why we don’t like changes. Our brain has evolved to favor the predictable for survival. Change is always unpredictable. Jesus is probably aware of a violent resistance to his teaching. Not everyone can hear and see but only some. So, the unclean spirit cries out, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us?” as a spokesperson for all naysayers to Jesus’ teaching. I think it’s worth noticing that the unclean spirit speaks in a plural term. There’s no single voice speaking but many. Now, listen to our own thoughts and feelings. There isn’t just one but many. Many selves in us are speaking to us. We choose which voice to follow or which self to become in various contexts. In the case of an unclean spirit, it is evident that it is against Jesus’ teaching. This unclean spirit forms a committee of voices that speak languages of resentment, fear, anxiety, hatred, and ignorance. They are threatened that the presence of God would vanish them, and it does. Jesus sternly disapproves of their legitimacy and that they do no benefit to oneself but are unskillful actions that result in harmful consequences. He rebukes them not by reasoning or correcting this collective effort of unskillful voices. His way of cleansing them is too simple: “Be silent, and come out of him!” Silence is the way to the presence of God. It is an act of bringing all our attention to the mind, looking inwardly, and patiently observing what’s on the mind. It’s an act of calming and stilling all different voices, knowing that they come and go. The point is to step outside all these voices or selves that we choose to become. This would be considered metacognition but we want to go deeper than that so that can we encounter the burning bush that is not consumed by the flames, the “I am.” As you engage with this reflection, consider the multitude of thoughts and feelings you experience. Recognizing and detaching from each one is a step towards clearing the mind. Emptying the mind allows God's presence to fill it, influencing how we live our lives and interact with others. In high school, my two favorite classes were art and woodshop. What about you? I cherished these classes because they engaged my hands, fostering imagination and precision. Unlike abstract theories, they were tangible, down-to-earth experiences. Their appeal also lay in the practical wisdom they offered. For instance, my woodshop teacher's advice was simple yet profound: “Measure twice, and cut once.” “Wood moves.”
Recall the gospel that Jesus starts sharing after St. John the Baptist’s arrest. He continues the legacy of St. John. The message is direct and uncomplicated: “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.” His message was direct: “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.” This teaching, not academic, resonated more with my woodshop teacher than my applied mathematics professor. It stemmed from Jesus's first-hand experience “of” the kingdom of God, not a mere bookish understanding “about” it. This morning, let's view Jesus's words as wisdom, not a theoretical exposition. He isn't presenting a theory but inviting us to witness and experience the truth for ourselves. The time is fulfilled. It's time to see for ourselves, here and now. The kingdom of God has come near. God’s presence is closer than we are to ourselves. Repent. Look inward, not outward; turn around and delve within. Believe in the good news. Have a conviction or trust in Jesus that God’s kingdom is truly within you. If Jesus could experience the kingdom of God, so can we. Why would he tell us something that we cannot accomplish? He calls this news “good” which leads us to “God.” It’s supposed to be beneficial to us. It is godlily good for us! It can take us to the source of true happiness. His persistent emphasis on the kingdom of God is consistent throughout his healing and teaching ministry. When his friends ask him how to pray, the first sentence after addressing God is “Thy kingdom come.” Notice it is “Thy kingdom” that is coming, not that we are going there. God’s presence is not a destination we arrive at but is omnipresently available to all living creatures. The trouble we might have with the words of Jesus this morning may come from our inexperience in trying out his instruction ourselves. We might not know why we need to measure twice. We might not get why we cannot cut more than once. We might be clueless about wood expanding and contracting in response to humidity and temperature until we see for ourselves. If Jesus says the presence of God is within us, why don’t we see it? Meister Eckhart would say, “God is at home in us, but we are abroad.” But he gives us a clue, "Nothing in all creation is so like God as stillness.” Thomas Merton would then echo, “In silence, God ceases to be an object and becomes an experience.” To experience God, we need to train the mind. Our minds by default aren’t developed to experience God’s presence. Yet, by abundant grace, we experience a glimpse of that very presence in nature, art, music, or poetry. When the mind is not trained, the quiet can sound so noisy. We might try to be still, but we might sense our body and mind restlessly wandering around. Yet, don’t give up. Be hopeful. The fact we become aware of our state of being distracted evidences our development of the mind that we somehow step outside the mind and can observe its state. The moment we say, “I’m so distracted by this thought and that feeling” is when we’re cultivating skillful attention to the mind. Imagine the scene from Matthew 14:30-33. As Peter walks towards Jesus on the water, he notices a strong wind and becomes distracted by fear of death. He sinks in and loses his attention to Jesus. We may not necessarily encounter a strong wind in a literal sense but do face countless thoughts and feelings. In those circumstances, we’re prone to be distracted and instead be filled with anxiety and fear. It’s easy to criticize those who are attached to their smart devices but they may be distracting themselves from anxiety and fear by not looking at their minds. What about you? How’s the condition of your mind? Something keeps you up at night? Cannot focus on anything? The good news is that there’s a way out of that suffering. The better news is that it’s not far but within. Perhaps the not-so-good news is that you have to work for it and it is worth doing it. The more you practice, the clearer your mind becomes to experience God’s presence which is perceived as calm, still, peaceful, restful, restoring, and pleasant. This presence of God becomes our source of resilience, hope, and courage to carry on. This process then entails a cycle of death and resurrection. Restless thoughts and feelings fade, and the presence of God rises within. Enough said, and let’s get to work on training the mind in Jesus’ woodshop class! |
Paul"...life up your love to that cloud [of unknowing]...let God draw your love up to that cloud...through the help of his grace, to forget every other thing." Archives
January 2025
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