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The message of Jesus’ parable may remind us of the petition from the Lord’s Prayer: “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” Yet, it’s different in that its teaching is more like: “We forgive those who trespass against us as you forgive our trespasses.” That we forgive those who have wronged us presupposes God’s forgiveness of our wrongdoing. If we don’t forgive as God has forgiven us, its consequence in the parable would be something like this: “Give us our trespasses as we give those who trespass against us.”
The topic of forgiveness is such a challenging one. Not because we have no information about the virtue of forgiveness but because we are often not yet ready to forgive those who hurt us emotionally. The situation becomes much more complicated when those who have harmed me don’t even ask for forgiveness and I, for example, may feel the most urgent need to forgive in order to set myself from that painful event and to move on with my life. This need echoes what Nelson Mandela once said, “As I walked out the door toward the gate that would lead to my freedom, I knew if I didn't leave my bitterness and hatred behind, I'd still be in prison.” Pain that originates from a hurtful relationship is deep whether it be physically, emotionally, or spiritually. It can be expressed in three forms of emotions: rage, resentment, and retaliation. Rage is a type of emotion fueled by anger based on a narrative one creates in reaction to one’s hurtful experience with the other. We can, without justification, be angry if someone harms us. Rage is born when we add reasons and stories as to why that person has done it. It’s like “He looks down on me. He has no respect for me. Such a horrible person.” We write a story about him and become enraged. Resentment is an ongoing grudge against the wrongdoer and one’s fixation on being a victim. Its favorite line is “How could you? How dare you?” Both rage and resentment bear fruit of retaliation, to attack back with a higher interest rate. It goes beyond the law of tit for tat. These three emotional siblings can help us see whether we actually forgive those who hurt us. Think of someone who needs your forgiveness and watch if any of the three arises. You might physically feel your gut wrenched and your belly muscle contracted. Forgiveness thus requires a significant amount of time just to process what has happened. Forgiveness doesn’t happen instantly and easily as if it magically absolves once and for all but is a painful series of skillful actions and reflections. Even after forgiveness eventually begins to take place, it can still leave a healed scar which may ache at times. Yet, forgiveness is a necessary condition for one’s freedom. It’s never an optional one. Then this matter of forgiving others is not so much about them but about my dealings with the wounded part of myself. This hurt side of me needs healing. The king in the parable has financial damage that is approximately worth $3.5 billion in our time. As he forgives his servant out of compassion, his rage, resentment, and retaliation which may be worth $3.5 billion is no longer with him. Yet, the king’s rage returns with resentment towards the servant who shows no mercy to the one who owes about $5 and retaliates against him. This parable is quite peculiar for at least one reason. How is it even possible that the servant could embezzle $3.5 billion from the king? While we should keep in mind the parable is only an analogy and a fiction, it’s a bit too far from reality. Can we think of anyone who we can profiteer a million if not a billion? Granted this excessive amount is metaphorical, then is there anyone whom we can take advantage of emotionally? Who could that be? Realistically speaking, no one but us. We owe ourselves $3.5 billion or perhaps more. We are forgiven more than 3.5 million times in our lives by those around us for small or big shortcomings and mistakes that may have caused hurt. Yet, our ignorance of it might keep us brutally judgmental of ourselves and attack ourselves when we owe ourselves $5 or over 5 forgivable errors we make. Let’s reinterpret the parable that the one who owed the servant a hundred denarii is no one but himself. While the king forgives him of his debts of 10,000 talents and spares him from being sold to his family and taking over all his possessions, he throws himself into prison. Not only is he harsh to himself but is delusionally unwise and foolish. This practice of self-forgiveness, which is not to be confused with self-indulgence, is a spiritual one. It needs to be done in a contemplative way as one meditates. During this time of silence in the forgiving and loving presence of God, we can examine our unskillful actions and thoughts. We can face some of the unhealed wounds and delve deeper into them only to realize and accept our hurt and disappointment despite our skillful and kind actions toward others. Whenever we encounter this hurt or our urge to never forgive but to cling to rage, resentment, and retaliation, we let go of it seven times, seventy-seven times, seven hundred seven times, and as we need, reforming ourselves to act wisely, skillfully, and compassionately. The root cause of hurting one another may be nothing but a manifestation of the unhealed scar in ourselves, retaliating, resenting, and enraging. We must start practicing the act of forgiveness within ourselves, with ourselves. Note: My reflection on today’s gospel lesson may sound more like a rule this time. It can be quite dry and uninteresting. I ponder on how a church community can keep itself spiritually healthy and accountable and resolve its issues among members.
The key context of today’s gospel lesson can be found in the very first sentence of Jesus’ saying: “If another member of the church sins…” The key phrase of this key context is “member of the church.” My reason for defining those as the key context and key phrase is that this teaching is only applied to and expected of Jesus’ followers. Please recall the followers are to take up their cross and follow Jesus. These followers are the members of the church. (Perhaps there’s one practical implication from Jesus’ saying where he says, “...go and point out the fault when the two of you are alone.” This is a great tip for relationship troubles. No triangulation. No dragging a third person into a tension between two. Deal with each other directly without involving others.) To be a member of Christ’s body is to be on the way to Jesus. To follow him is to follow where he’s headed. Where does he arrive then? As he takes up his own cross, he undergoes the crucifixion and realizes the resurrection. This resurrection is the final destination of Jesus’ way. Everyone is welcome to this path but not all do. It takes great effort to place oneself in God’s presence and constantly comprehend one’s sources of suffering, stresses, issues, and problems that are in the way of true joy and happiness. This is what taking up one’s cross looks like in our time. This is what the crucifixion looks like. This spiritual, mental, and physical process of the crucifixion leads one to transformation, transfiguration, and transcendence of the resurrection. This process or journey to the way of Jesus, however, does not magically change our personalities. We may be able to be more aware of our shortcomings and unskillful actions as we face the sources of suffering and practice God’s inner presence in us. Eventually, we will become much more skillful and wiser in becoming a better version of ourselves. For those on the way of Jesus, a close-minded attitude is in and of itself unwise and unskillful. It lacks openness to oneself and others that one can err and be wrong about many things. The cause of close-mindedness or stubbornness is perfection which is a type of delusion. Jesus doesn’t call us to be an idealogue but a follower. A deeper cause of this delusion is due to the lack of candidly and faithfully placing oneself in God’s presence, being naked before God. As much as there’s great freedom one experiences in God’s presence, a similar sense of freedom arises when one accepts the very fact that “I can be wrong.” It opens a gate of grace and growth. Quite surprisingly, today’s gospel lesson is like a litmus test to check if one is still on the path when there's tension between followers in the church. It’s not about whether members are perfectly behaving. If that’s the case, then they are followers of the rules to be perfect. Rather, this acceptance of imperfection exposes how one can trust others’ judgment and how much one can be vulnerable. Jesus means what he says, “...where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.” He doesn’t say, “Where two or three are gathered in my name, there’s a conflict.” If no resolution is to come out between two followers, Jesus instructs they are to be considered a Gentile or a tax collector. Does this mean they are kicked out of their community? Excommunication? Not really. But they’re starting from the beginning to get back on track. Do over. Begin again with experiencing and practicing the presence of God in themselves as well as comprehending their unskillful actions and root causes. As long as they do over, they are back on. They are once again interconnected to the body of Christ through their reconnection with God’s presence in them and hopefully renewed interaction with their fellow followers. By the time Jesus sets his mind to go to Jerusalem, he has been in much trouble with the local religious authorities. He has stirred up enough scandals anyway. (e.g. breaking the Sabbath observance, criticizing the hypocrisy of religious authorities, performing miracles, teaching and living the kingdom of God, etc.) One doesn’t have to be gifted with psychic power to know there would be a trap set for him. It is then no surprise what kind of ending Jesus would eventually face in Jerusalem. That is, a religio-political persecution leading to death.
Most importantly, Jesus knows all these. He isn’t at all being prophetic about his death but realistic. His friends, the disciples, on the other hand, aren’t ready to hear what Jesus has to say. They cannot yet face the consequence of Jesus’ life committed to the kingdom of God that he would face suffering and they might as well face their suffering for being closely associated with him. They signed up for a better future, not for suffering. Their unreadiness seems to be highlighted when Jesus c instructs them how to be his followers, how to live out the kingdom of God in their lives: “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” Let’s acknowledge that his instruction on how to be his follower isn’t appealing but discouraging. Far from a “Buy 1, Get 1 FREE” sales promotion. One cannot follow him like following a GPS navigation system. There’s a prerequisite, which is to take up one’s cross. One has to take up one’s own cross to follow Jesus. What does this taking up the cross look like? In Jesus’ time, the cross has a significant meaning of public humiliation and death sentence. For us, it’s something one sees on the altar or the top of a church building or still a popular necklace pendant. It’s a decoration in our time. Yet, underneath that societal symbol, it entails a reality of suffering one undergoes. This issue of suffering is the common cross Jesus invites his friends and all of us to carry. Imagine you’re walking on the Camino de Santiago, the way of St. James in northwestern Spain. Your backpack is heavy, and your shoulders are sore. You’re tired and hungry, starting to question why you had decided to do this, uttering “It’s all because of that Paul Yoon who gave me this silly idea! I thought I was going to be better, happier, and holier!” You’ve always been a worrier. You’ve always been afraid of making mistakes, and have always tried to control everything in your life. But you’ve also been unhappy. You felt like you were always living in fear, and you never felt like you were truly free. This was your reason to walk the Camino de Santiago in search of peace and freedom (though you still want to blame Paul because you’re exhausted). Paul told you about how the Camino could help people to let go of their baggage and start over. As you walk, you begin to think about all the things you are carrying with you. You have your backpack full of clothes and supplies, but you also have a lot of emotional baggage. You’re carrying the weight of fears, regrets, and doubts. You suddenly realize that you’ve been carrying this baggage for a long time, and it is time to let go. You stop walking and sit down on a rock. You open your backpack and take out everything you’ve been carrying. You hold each item in your hand for a moment, and then you let it fall to the ground. You watch as the wind blows the items away. You feel a sense of release and unbinding. You stand up and start walking again. You’re lighter now, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Now, we don’t have to go to Spain to follow Jesus. We already have our own cross and have been carrying it all along. It’s just that we don’t want to face it and acknowledge it. The essence of the pilgrimage or the way of the cross is to comprehend your suffering, issues, problems, and emotional and spiritual baggage. Without comprehension, there’s no way out. This process of comprehending what we suffer from and how we create suffering and stress is a tough one and it may add to the suffering we’re dealing with. This is why we cannot just face our suffering without first experiencing the presence of God in our hearts. We need a refuge or a spiritual gas station for spiritual fuels to move on. Jesus has been consistent in his teaching. The kingdom of God or the presence of God within you comes first, and then he invites his friends to take up their cross and follow him. There’s a cure but for one to be persuaded that one needs it, one must first comprehend what’s gone wrong. That cure eventually sets one free of the cross. We look at two kinds of the cross in a church. One is the cross with Jesus hung on, and the other is the cross without Jesus. The former type can be a reminder for us to comprehend our own suffering, issues, problems, and stresses. The latter type is the version of us freed from the cross of suffering. That sacred glimpse of the resurrection. One of many reasons why stereotypes cannot become helpful information is that they fixate on a generic idea or image of all that they amount to. Not all Asians are good at mathematics (though your living example from that population at St. Agnes’ is quite good at it). Sloths are not really lazy but very slow due to their extremely low metabolic rate since slow doesn’t mean lazy.
The issue with stereotypes is one’s tendency to fixate on something that one believes to be true. This issue is not merely limited to stereotypes. It can develop into stubbornness or narrow-mindedness. It closes off any open communication or possibility for growth and doesn’t invite any changes. A business will not be successful if it simply does things in the way it always has been without adapting itself to changing market needs. Dogmatism doesn’t help people feel free but regulates and imprisons what ought to be believed and followed. The problem is with fixation. In the lesson this morning, we see both Jesus and his friends in a state of fixation. Jesus’ friends are fixated on the idea that the Canaanite (gentile) woman should not ask for help from Jews or shout after them. Also, considering cultural biases and limitations towards women, we can guess that it’s not moderate for women to shout in public. So the friends ask Jesus to send her away. Quite surprisingly Jesus isn’t too different from them. (But don’t be too quick to be disappointed in him.) Jesus is also fixated on the belief that he is “sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” His saying, whether it is intentional to expose the general attitude of the Israelites against Gentiles as a shock pedagogy, gets worse when he says, “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” If he heals the daughter of the gentile woman who is not part of the lost sheepfold, he becomes an unfair parent who wastes children’s food on dogs. He is not called to be an unfair and irresponsible feeder. The Canaanite woman, however, breaks free of Jesus and his friends’ cultural and religious fixation. She doesn’t restrain herself on their terms. How she does it is rather satirical, mischievous, and so wise while setting her focus solely on her daughter’s healing in desperation. She dares to become a dog. There’s no sign of her feelings being hurt or offended or insulted. No resentment to Jesus. She’s not fixated on her self-image or how she should be treated. she’s truly free to become what’s needed for her to heal her daughter. This in turn means she’s free to become an undesirable one according to the customs and traditions of her time. Nothing can get in her way. Her skillful becoming creates in the wall of Jesus’ fixation a gap or a crack through which the Spirit of freedom and change penetrates. As she is willing to become a dog in his analogy, he is invited to become an unfair feeder. He still has a choice to remain a fair feeder but is persuaded to break free from his fixation. He too becomes what’s conventionally conceived to be not desired. So he says, “Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.” If I may add a comment to his saying, it would be, “Great is your faith to help me expand and get out of my fixated view on whom I am sent and called to do God’s work!” Perhaps today’s story from the gospel isn’t just about how the Canaanite woman’s faith heals her demon-tormented daughter. It may also be about how her skillful becoming of who she’s called to be at the needs of those in need opens Jesus and his friends’ fixated hearts so that they’re no longer led by a god created in their own image but by the living presence of the Spirit. It almost looks like Jesus is prepared to become an unfair feeder in the following story of feeding the four thousand after today’s lesson (12:29-39). You can see the domino effect that is caused by the Canaanite woman’s faith that grounds her in the presence of God and helps Jesus reconsider his calling which is not just for his fellow Jews but for all. The Canaanite woman’s skillful becoming sounds like St. Paul who once said, “To the Jews I became like a Jew, to win the Jews. To those under the law, I became like one under the law (though I myself am not under the law), so as to win those under the law. To those not having the law I became like one not having the law. To the weak I became weak, to win the weak. I have become all things to all people so that by all possible means I might save some.” (1 Cor. 9:20-22) This freedom to become like water is rooted in one’s experience of God’s indwelling presence which vanishes our sense of being thrown into the world and fills the empty space or void with the Breath of God. The question to reflect on this morning would be to ask ourselves, “How fixated or free are we from who we become for the service of others in love?” Two prominent figures from the Hebrew Bible show up and talk with Jesus in the lesson this morning. Moses represents the Law, and Elijah the prophet. Jesus’ encounter with them is to symbolize the new role of Jesus that he not only integrates both the Law and the prophetic tradition but suggests a new way of living. This somewhat magical appearance of Moses and Elijah tends to draw the most attention in the story of Jesus’ transfiguration.
This time, however, I would like us to pay attention to the context of Jesus’ transfiguration. What was he doing before he was transfigured? What was he doing before Moses and Elijah showed up? What is the context? (We ask these questions not to investigate what happened but to be transfigured like Jesus. Information that connects to other information is knowledge, yet this knowledge is useless if it doesn’t change us. When it does, then it is transfigured to wisdom.) Jesus “...went up on the mountain to pray. And while he was praying…” It’s the context of prayer that his face changes and his clothes become dazzling white. Moses and Elijah appear in the place of prayer. During his prayer, Peter, John, and James hear the voice from the cloud. We do not know what exactly Jesus goes up on the mountain to pray about but we do know that he worships in spirit and truth. He prays through his breath with unforgetting ardency in the Breath of Unforgetting in the Spirit of truth (τὸ Πνεῦμα τῆς ἀληθείας). This act of prayer requires aloneness. In this aloneness, we might feel lonely or experience our minds filled with unfiltered thoughts and feelings. Often when these thoughts are filtered, anxiety around uncertainty may tend to dominate. This is when our breath becomes an anchor so that we are NOT helplessly lost in unregulated thoughts and feelings. We unforgetfully keep this breath in mind as we remind ourselves that the very source of our breath comes from the breath of God. The only way for us to be transfigured is when the light of the Spirit shines upon us. This light shines from within. The inner light doesn’t come from outside. Yet one cannot see it unless one goes beyond the cluttered mind. This going beyond is like listening to the voice from the cloud. As the inner light of God cuts through the dark, the voice speaks through the cloud. Jesus then is declared as God’s chosen in his prayer through his breath with unforgetting ardency in the Breath of Unforgetting. We are also to hear we are God’s chosen. This chosenness is not the modern doctrine of “You are so special, and you can do everything you want.” Quite the opposite. It’s about knowing we cannot do everything we want and we aren’t more special than others. Rather, this chosenness is our recognition and realization that I freely accept to become God’s choice to be beneficial to others and the world. I want to leave you with the following poem by Jennifer Welwood as a way to reflect on the Transfiguration. So, you can in aloneness discover the inner light dwelling in you and hear the voice from the cloud that you are God’s choice for God’s will or goodwill in this world. “Unconditional” by Jennifer Welwood Willing to experience aloneness, I discover connection everywhere; Turning to face my fear, I meet the warrior who lives within; Opening to my loss, I gain the embrace of the universe; Surrendering into emptiness, I find fullness without end. Each condition I flee from pursues me, Each condition I welcome transforms me And becomes itself transformed Into its radiant jewel-like essence. I bow to the one who has made it so, Who has crafted this Master Game; To play it is purest delight; To honor its form – true devotion. We see two types of fear in today’s lesson. The first one is the disciples’ fear of a ghostly figure. In psychiatry, there’s a specific term for this when it presents serious symptoms of panic attacks, lack of sleep, and shortness of breath. It’s called phasmophobia. It’s broadly related to anxiety disorder and its causes may be genetics or past trauma. It’s hard to believe the disciples suffer from phasmophobia since their fear is understandable. Who would’ve thought they would see Jesus walking on the sea and approaching their boat?
The other type of fear is that of drowning. Of course, there’s also a name for this specific fear. It’s thalassophobia. Let’s not be confused with aquaphobia (fear of water) or hydrophobia (extreme fear of water as a clinical symptom of human rabies). Again, it’s hard to believe Peter suffers from thalassophobia, and probably not aquaphobia. But who knows Peter might be scared of water in general because he knows too much about what a storm can do. No matter how courageous we are, we all have some kind of fear. For example, if one has a fear of insects, lantern flies that we so commonly see nowadays aren’t too pleasant to be around. Their black spots on the wing tips might remind us of fungus that damage crops. Recognizing fear happens all the time even if we don’t want to feel it, what matters then is how to manage our minds when fear arises. The worst kind of fear which is also the common fear all living creatures share would be death. The disciples are terrified when they misperceive Jesus as a ghost who would harm their lives. Peter doesn’t merely seek out help but cries out, “Save me.” One interesting factor between these two fear-triggered happenings is that neither the disciples nor Peter can see Jesus when their minds are blinded by fear. Fear obscures what is and displays what if. When our minds are caught up in the realm of what-ifs, we restlessly wander around from one thought to another. In the basic training of chaplaincy, there are certain rules to keep in mind. I call them basic, but basic doesn’t mean easy to follow. Rather, it is much easier to be disregarded. One of these fundamental rules is that fear or anxiety is not to be explored but contained. The idea is similar to how the CDC tries to contain the coronavirus from spreading. Contain fear. Don't expand it. If explored, it spreads. Jesus becomes that container for the disciples and Peter. His voice cuts through the fog of a fear-mongering ghost and brings the disciples back to reality. His hand reaches out to Peter who is stuck in a life-threatening mucilage of fear. The contact between their hands reconnects Peter with reality. Reality is made of what is, and anything outside is what if. How frequently we experience fear varies individually. When you do, what do you do? Is there anyone who can help you back to reality? If so, you’re blessed and that person is a blessing to you. But if you’re alone and fear smears in, what do you do? As Christians, we pray. We may pray that God takes away fear immediately but that’s more of a drug that one needs to take the edge off. Another way of praying is to sit in silence and face that fear. In that storm of fear, hear the voice of Jesus, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.” Memorize this saying of Jesus and use it as your meditation formula or mantra. (i.e. the 5th century Saint John Cassian’s mantra was “Oh God come to my aid; Oh Lord make haste to help me.”) Repeat those words intentionally and internally to your heart. Root it in the very depth of your belly so that it becomes your center. Let it ring and linger. The above is one of the ways to cultivate the peace that the resurrected Christ shares. And we don’t just do this for our sake. We desire our presence of peace to be available to those in fear. But we cannot just have that desire to support others. We ourselves must experience that peace in our bodies and minds and practice it. Once it becomes our habit or a part of the rule of life, we don’t need to look for those in fear. Whoever we meet would sense peace in our presence. We become that voice and hand of Jesus that stretches out. Be that voice. Be that hand. Be the presence of Christ. This morning we heard the five parables of Jesus. If I summarize them, the kingdom of heaven is like 1) a mustard seed that is the smallest of all the seeds, 2) yeast mixed in with flour, 3) a treasure hidden in a field, 4) a merchant in search of a fine pearl, and lastly 5) a fish net to sort out the good and the bad among all kinds of fish. I wonder if Jesus was in such a hurry that he felt so compelled to throw all five parables at once to the crowd. It’s one riddle after another. There might be two responses to Jesus’ pack of riddles. One might feel overwhelmed when the parables are considered something that one has to understand and get it right. The other response might show a reluctant or indifferent attitude because of its lack of relevance with unspoken questions of “Who cares?” or “Why and how does it matter to me?”
But let’s remember the goal of Jesus telling the parables. It’s not meant to be a riddle or a puzzle to be solved. It’s his means to convey his message in a brief story that evokes imagination in the mind of his audience. It’s supposed to make his teaching easier, not harder or more confusing so that the crowd can comprehend and apply it to themselves. In this reflection, I wholeheartedly share the same pedagogical and spiritual desire for the goodwill that Jesus shows to the crowd in the lesson. I would like all of us to be able to encounter the kingdom of heaven that Jesus so desires all to experience. Let’s remember this is the good news, not the riddle, of Jesus after all. As a reminder, the good news that Jesus himself shares in St. Matthew’s version is “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.” (Matthew 3:2, 4:17 NABRE) If I may elucidate this, to repent is to look within, not without, because the kingdom of heaven is in you. Here, the term “heaven” (or literally “the heavens”) is usually considered as a substitute for “God” as you see our Jewish friends would spell it as “G-d.” The word “kingdom” sounds quite feudal which doesn’t reflect our time at all. I would suggest that it may be easier to think of it as God’s full influence (like influencers in social media) rather than God’s governance or ruling over people. For anything or anyone to affect us, however, we first have to notice its presence. In this sense, that the kingdom of heaven is at hand presupposes that one discovers the presence of God, not outwardly, but inwardly first. This internal turn is the first step and perhaps the hardest one to take because it sounds 1) too easy and also 2) too difficult. 1) First, it’s too easy that we don’t need to look elsewhere, which is why it’s easy to dismiss it. Jesus is not bringing something from outside or from the heavens but invites one to look inside. This may be too boring and even disappointing for people who expect much more from Jesus. But again, don’t look further. We’re reminded of the scene at Jesus’ ascension in the Book of Acts: “While he [Jesus] was going and they were gazing up toward heaven, suddenly two men in white robes stood by them. They said, ‘Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.’” That heaven is in you. 2) At the same time, this act of turning one’s eyes into the heart might be not only extremely difficult but also undesirable for various reasons. The mind is always occupied with feelings and thoughts that are mostly reactive to the situations one is experiencing. It might not be so pleasant to look in, so it’s better to look away, ignore, or gloss over. For example, we hear and see younger generations being consumed with social media by which they connect with their smartphones. Before we take a judgmental attitude, this behavior reflects how challenging it is to look inside our hearts. The world has become much more dangerous. Earnings don’t catch up with the increasing rate of living costs. No bright future waits for college graduates but student loan bills. In this context, one’s heart is filled with anxiety, and who wants to face it? For those two reasons, the kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, the smallest of all, yeast mixed in with flour, and a treasure hidden in a field. Too easy to dismiss because it’s too close. Too hard to see through because the mind is cluttered with thoughts and feelings. Despite all these reasons, nevertheless, Jesus calls us to be like a merchant in search of a fine pearl. The first reason for the presence of God disguised in ordinariness can be reinterpreted as God’s grace penetrating the depth of the heart, availing itself here and now, anytime and anywhere. The second reason for the challenge to face the unstable state of the mind can be managed by attuning our breathing with the Breath of God. Our breathing in and out becomes the whole body breathing, connecting all cells, tissues, organs, and blood vessels, which expands the presence of God fully in our body. Thus, Jesus says, “Therefore every scribe who has been trained for the kingdom of heaven is like the master of a household who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old.” |
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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