Consider this Sunday’s reflection on the gospel lesson as a resource for spiritual exercise, particularly when you face hardships in life.
Think of a boat. This boat is a metaphor for the mind. Jesus and his friends are in this boat. The boat’s path depends on the condition of the sea. It can sail calmly, allowing one to enjoy the breeze and sun. But the sea is not always gentle. The boat can face turbulence when there’s a storm. Jesus and his disciples encounter a great storm. Suddenly, they’re stuck in the boat of “major crises.” The disciples, of course, panic. We panic too when we encounter crises in life. Now, can you recall how you were breathing during tough moments? Did your breathing feel like a great windstorm, with strong waves beating and swamping the boat of your mind, just like the disciples experienced? When filled with strong emotions, the disciples might have even skipped breathing and become out of breath. We can easily relate to the disciples’ experiences because we’ve all been there. We have all experienced a great windstorm not just externally affecting us but internally shaking our breathing. The disciples, though terrified, somehow notice something odd in the boat. Jesus is napping in the midst of chaos. They express frustration to him, “Do you not care that we are perishing?” We might judge them for being upset with Jesus, but I would rather give them credit for noticing Jesus' presence. Most people in crisis are unable to detect a sense of calm or peace, but the disciples are at least aware of that peaceful presence, even if it is yet to be awakened. The peace quietly present in the troubled boat of the mind wakes up and directs the unregulated breath or wind inside the mind, saying, “Peace! Be still!” This peace is the peace of the resurrection, born from the presence of God through death. It reminds us that even in our darkest moments, the presence of divine peace can transform our fear and chaos into calm and trust. The disciples transform their breathing, ceasing the great windstorm and inviting tranquility to the boat of their minds. This morning’s gospel lesson can be seen as a manual or instruction on how to deal with crises in life. While we cannot entirely control external events, we can manage their turbulent impact on our breathing. Here are the steps to take when faced with crises:
We hear two parables of Jesus about the kingdom of God or the presence of God within. We might feel like we understand them but don’t. What we’re certain about is that these parables are simply about the kingdom of God, which is the essential focus and goal of Jesus’ ministry. Let’s recall his own words about parables as narrated in St. Mark’s account:
When he was alone, those who were around him along with the twelve asked him about the parables. And he said to them, “To you has been given the secret of the kingdom of God, but for those outside everything comes in parables, in order that ‘they may indeed look but not perceive, and may indeed hear but not understand; so that they may not turn again and be forgiven.’” (Mark 4:10-12) The function of his parables serves two purposes. 1) Analogous representation: it points to the kingdom of God analogously, so it presupposes a sense of “what it’s like” and “as if.” 2) Sorting mechanisms: it is to sort out mere curious minds from the minds that have decided to follow Jesus. If one understands his parable, one is in. If not, then out. There are “those inside” and “those outside.” The second purpose also gives us an opportunity to discern how we can creatively “get” the parables in today’s gospel. How are you making sense of Jesus’ parables? My take on them is quite straightforward in two ways: 1) Both parables share one crucial element in common: what’s sown is the presence of God within everyone, regardless of whether they’re in or out. 2) In both parables, “those outside” have no idea of the presence of God within but still benefit from “those inside.” In the first parable, it is puzzling to see the sower does not know how the seed sprouts and grows. I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to assume this sower is a farmer or someone with agricultural knowledge. But this peculiar depiction of the sower lacks any knowledge of germination, seedling development, vegetative growth, etc. This naive trait of the sower resembles those who “may indeed look but not perceive and hear but not understand.” Their awareness of what’s sown in their minds is absent and thus not trained enough to see how what’s sown grows in their minds. Despite their ignorance of not paying attention to the depth of God’s presence within, grace remains ever-present and available to all. That the presence of God is radiant in everyone’s hearts, although often unnoticed, is grace itself. In the parables this morning, that grace is neglected by “those outside” as though the air we breathe is unrecognized most of the time. Yet, there’s no grudge here. What’s sown still bears fruit, and the harvest comes no matter what. The tiny mustard seed “…grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.” Grace is still conditionally available through “those inside.” Those inside who have been alert, ardent, mindful of, and trained in the presence of God within cannot help but radiate God’s presence, through which grace shines. In our everyday lives, we as followers of Jesus are to be the presence of peace, tranquility, and equanimity in the midst of anxiety and fear-driven chaos. But there’s more. As we continue to cultivate the presence of God within, we model how looking “inside” keeps us as those inside. Those outside are outside because they look outside, not inside. World peace is not achieved by world organizations or governments but by each person who is able to look inside one’s heart, where God’s presence is full of grace. In today’s gospel lesson, the scribes are puzzled about Jesus and his behaviors. He heals the sick and casts out demons, as we see throughout the gospel accounts. The scribes try to make sense of Jesus and discern the ultimate purpose of his supernatural activities. They then believe that there must be an intentional agent secretly hidden behind these actions to sabotage their work and authority. So, they invoke Beelzebub.
The scribes’ attempt to read Jesus’ mind and true motivation is not something new to us. We do this all the time. We often seek reasons when something doesn’t make sense to us or doesn’t meet our expectations. This tendency can be explained by “teleo-functional reasoning,” where we interpret everything around us in terms of their purpose or function. For instance, imagine I’m singing the Lord’s Prayer out of tune with a flushed face. Your mind might start wondering why this is happening, perhaps speculating that I secretly drank communion wine beforehand, thinking, “I thought he’s more of a beer person. I guess not!” This example illustrates how our minds look for reasons and purposes behind actions or events. The point here is not about whether I was drunk, but rather how our minds tend to seek out the 'why' behind behaviors. The truth is, we have no way of knowing what’s going on until we directly ask or obtain more information. The scribes accuse Jesus of being possessed and controlled by Beelzebub (or the Lord of flies or dung), which traditionally represents one of the seven deadly sins, gluttony. The association with Beelzebub, whether it is meant to be the Lord of flies or dung or Satan or Lucifer or the incarnate gluttony, ironically tells more about the scribes themselves than Jesus. What’s in their minds is expressed and projected onto the person they consider a threat to their authority and status. Instead, his actions seem to be far from gluttony, dung, or flies, but represent temperance, the fertilizer of grace, and the dove. There’s no secret agent behind his actions for the sick, hungry, and hurt. No Beelzebub is behind him, but rather the presence of God within that is gracefully radiating without. People say, “Jesus has gone out of his mind.” They’re right. He really is out of his mind, not in the sense that he has lost touch with reality, but in the sense that he is no longer driven by his own mind but by the presence of God within. He steps out of his mind. He’s able to clearly see what’s going on in his mind without any impulse to identify with one particular feeling or thought. Just like Moses before the burning bush that is not being consumed by the fire, who takes off his sandals, standing on holy ground (Exodus 3:5), Jesus is freely unmasked before God’s presence and carries out that holy ground in his interaction with people. His way to the inner presence of God is through the Breath of God, just as we confess “God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God” in the Nicene Creed. Our attention to our breath leads us to the very source of our breath, the Holy Spirit. This breathing access to the Spirit is available to all, and there’s no greater error than preventing someone from getting in touch with the very source of their breath. Having the Breath of God as his origin of life, Jesus is reborn. He transcends biological boundaries among people, so he proclaims, “Who are my mother and my brothers? Here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.” The will of God is breathed through the Holy Spirit only. Are we breathing the same Breath as Jesus? If so, we are certainly his mothers, sisters, and brothers. I would like to share with you the insight of Fernand Braudel, a French historian, from his book A History of Civilizations, on how a person makes sense of oneself, conditioned by biologically and socioculturally given narratives:
"The stage on which humanity's endless dramas are played out partly determines their storyline and explains their nature. The cast will alter, but the set remains broadly the same." (p. 11) "Far more than the accidents or the historical and social circumstances of a period, it [collective psychology, awareness, mental equipment] derives from the distant past, from ancient beliefs, fears, and anxieties which are almost unconscious—an immense contamination whose germs are lost to memory but transmitted from generation to generation." (p. 22) With this analysis of the historian in mind, we are given a new perspective on the conflict between Jesus and the Pharisees in the lesson this morning. The problem is neither about their theological disagreement on what not to do on the Sabbath nor about who is right or wrong. Rather, there’s a clash of two radically different frameworks or stages where Jesus’ and the Pharisees’ dramas are played out. The Pharisees’ narrative originates from the Law and the Hebrew Bible, where they construct who they are. They understand themselves, others, and the world around them through that particular lens. They see Jesus in that same lens, and to them, he’s clearly wrong. If we shared their perspective, we would agree with them. Jesus, we can easily assume, is probably very familiar with the Pharisees’ grand narrative. After all, he’s one of them socioculturally and religiously. He understands and knows quite well why they think he’s wrong. Yet, he operates in a different narrative. This impacts how he perceives himself and constructs his identity. Throughout the gospel accounts, he engages with people from different religions and social classes, such as the Samaritan woman at the well (John 4:3-50) or the Syrophoenician mother who asks Jesus to heal her daughter despite being called a “puppy” (Mark 7:24-30). What’s remarkable about Jesus is not only that he’s willing to interact with them but also that he’s open-minded to learn and gain new insights from them. What enables him is the change in his grand narrative (or metanarrative) through which he makes sense of himself and the world. This clash of two narratives creates contempt in the minds of the religious authorities. Jesus is a dissenter and a rebel. He doesn’t fit into their grand narrative. The only role he can play for them is that of a scapegoat, taking on the sins or disorders of the system and being released into the wilderness, and he does. This may be one of the reasons for depicting Jesus as the lamb of God (though actually the scapegoat of his time) who “takes away the sin of the world.” Now, let’s turn our eyes to the narrative through which Jesus understands himself, the world, and people, and acts according to prudence and discernment. That grand narrative is the presence of God within. The presence of God is the worldview through which he sees himself, others, and the world. It’s the only good news he would like to share with everyone. This good news, of course, requires a change of heart. No one likes to change, especially if it turns their entire worldview upside down, and it does. So, Jesus says, “The Sabbath was made for humankind, and not humankind for the Sabbath.” According to the Pharisees’ narrative, the Sabbath is the rule and requirement for one to belong and keep their membership. For Jesus, the Sabbath is the sanctified time to acknowledge God (or worship as traditionally described), and the Sabbath is already embodied. In him, the presence of God is sanctified, ceaselessly sanctioned within so that he speaks, lives, acts, and engages with others always in the presence of God. No Sabbath no longer needs to be kept but carried out into the world and to the people. God’s relief to the hungry. God’s healing to the impaired. God’s rest to the exhausted. Following Jesus means living in the narrative he chooses. We have decided to allow this narrative to define who we can skillfully become and shape what we can do skillfully. One practical spiritual exercise is to examine which narrative we are operating on. Is it the one given and handed down to us culturally? Or is it the presence of God within? Another takeaway from today’s lesson is to be curious about how Jesus is able to replace his old narrative with the narrative of God’s inner dwelling. How is he able to put new wine into new wineskins? (You can find the answer every Wednesday at 8:30 pm via Zoom. ;)) How do we know if someone is born from above or of the Spirit? According to Jesus, it hinges on the ability to perceive the kingdom of God. Yet, this response seems insufficient. What does it truly mean to ‘see’ the kingdom of God? How can one achieve such a sight? Jesus’ answer leads us back to our initial inquiry: ‘If one is born from above or of the Spirit.’ Thus, we find ourselves caught in a referential loop.
But this, of course, is not the end of my reflection. There’s a way out. Jesus provides a subtle clue in his dialogue with Nicodemus, reminiscent of the idiom, ‘Like a leaf in the wind.’ So, here’s the saying of Jesus where I think the clue to break the referential loop of God’s kingdom and being born of the Spirit is found: “The wind (pneuma) blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit (pneuma).” (John 3:8) Let’s delve into a re-translation to perceive this saying as a clue. Both the word ‘wind’ in the initial segment of the saying and the word 'Spirit' in the latter part stem from the same Greek term, ‘pneuma.’ ‘Pneuma’ carries at least three meanings: wind, breath, or spirit. It's understandable why nearly all English translations of the Bible opt for ‘wind’ in the first part of the saying, given the verb ‘blow’ used in context. Selecting ‘wind’ over the other two interpretations aligns most coherently with the overall meaning. However, why not consider 'breath'? In Isaiah 40:7, we encounter, “The grass withers, the flower fades, when the breath of the LORD blows upon it; surely the people are grass.” Moreover, in J.R.R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings, there's a poem titled “When the black breath blows.” Let's substitute ‘wind’ with ‘breath’ and explore how it alters our interpretation: The Breath blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Breath. (John 3:8) Nicodemus, addressed as ‘you’ in Jesus’ discourse, lacks understanding of the origin and destination of the breath. Understandably so, as such knowledge often eludes those who haven’t experienced or embraced the kingdom of God within. The breath serves as the pathway to God’s presence—a vital force that both physiologically and spiritually sustains all living beings. Unlike Nicodemus, we comprehend the source and course of God’s breath: it flows in and out of our bodies. This breath transcends mere air; it embodies the energy of the Spirit. Not only does it nurture and uphold our existence, but it also leads us inward toward God's inner sanctum. Imagine that every breath we take is the movement of the breath of God or the Holy Spirit. The breath doesn’t go anywhere but remains within us. We may often forget that we’re even breathing at all, but it’s okay. The breath is ever-forgiving; even if you miss one breath, the next one comes right away. (This insight originates from Thanissaro Bhikkhu, a Theravada monk.) There’s never a single moment when the breath has left us. This is the faithfulness of the breath or God. What we’re left with, then, is to be mindful and alert about how to breathe, how to skillfully allow the breath to govern our mind and body, and how to guide our thoughts and feelings. When the breath of God governs our mental and physical actions, it embodies the essence of living in the kingdom of God—a state of heightened awareness and alignment with divine guidance. Our cultivation of the breath of God in our mind and body is none other than experiencing God in a trinitarian way. Our human mind and body into which God the Son incarnates encounters the presence of God the Father through the Breath of God the Holy Spirit. So my friends in Christ, take a moment to acknowledge the breath of God in your breath. Breathe in and out the grace, compassion, and hope of God who breathes back the peace, which surpasses all understanding, guarding your hearts and your minds in Christ. |
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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