Today’s readings: Isaiah 8, 23 – 9,3; 1 Corinthians 1, 10-13.17; Matthew 4, 12-23.
One of Christianity’s basic features as a religion is the incarnation, the Word become flesh. But this feature is not limited to the birth of Jesus, God made man. The Word continues to become flesh in time and in the concreteness of people who receive the Word.
“People are the words with which God tells His story.” This happened at the time of Jesus. It continues to happen even today, if we open our eyes to see it happen.
The story from Matthew of the calling of the first disciples seems oversimplified in the way it is presented. How could it have happened so simply, an immediate, almost automatic response to a call?
There was a simple command of Jesus and the immediate response of the four men. But there is also the attractiveness of Jesus, which cannot be undervalued even today.
It was the beginning of an unending story. Jesus, “hearing that John had been arrested, went back to Galilee”. It was from Galilee that the adventure of Jesus with his inner circle of disciples took off.
It marks the time and space wherein the mystery of Jesus’ life was to come true. It also says that this mysterious encounter with God takes shape in the lives of common people.
In Isaiah today we read the so-called fulfilment quotation: “The people that walked in darkness has seen a great light.” Darkness here can stand for the suffering that many go through, that brings great loneliness and isolation into our life. As John O’Donohue writes, our life becomes haunted, our belonging breaks. When darkness takes over, we yearn for release and healing.
The calling of the first disciples actually has to be read as the beginning of something new. The word ‘repent’ in the Gospel indicates the need for conversion, for a change in mentality and in attitude. It’s not just, as we normally make it to mean, going to confession. It’s the change of direction we often need to engage in at different points in life.
In the case of the first dsiciples it translates as, “they left their nets at once and followed him”, or, in the case of James and John who were with their father, as, “they left the boat and their father”. The boat and the father in life mean one’s past, which for many can be haunting.
The ‘immediacy’ of their response is not to be understood in terms of instant decision. Immediacy here stands for the inner freedom required, which is different from any other freedom we might dream of.
Inner freedom is real freedom. As O’Donohue writes, “on the outside a person may seem contented and free, but their inner landscape may be a secret prison”.
Fyodor Dostoyevsky’s legend of the Grand Inquisitor in The Brothers Karamazov is a haunting reflection on the idea of freedom. The Cardinal Inquisitor suggests that Jesus made a fatal mistake in overestimating humans, because people are not capable of freedom.
But here we are today with the Gospel account of how, with ‘immediacy’, these four men left behind whatever gave them security in life and were able to risk with Jesus. When we speak of inner freedom, it’s also about risk. You risk because you trust, not because you know for sure.
Many times we suffocate the inner voice of freedom in us, and thus settle for false shelters. William Stafford’s poem ‘Ask Me’, says a lot on this: “Some time when the river is ice, ask me mistakes I have made. Ask me whether what I have done is my life. Others have come in their slow way into my thought, and some have tried to help or to hurt; ask me what difference their strongest love or hate has made.”
Today’s Gospel account is about the difference God’s calling can make in life. God’s estimate of us is never overdone. It’s a calling of love, a love that heals rather than judges, a love that liberates rather than burdens. God not only cares. He values us because he believes in us and trusts us.