Today’s readings: Acts 14, 11-27; Apocalypse 21, 1-5; John 13, 31-35.
Very often today we feel lost as to where our identity as Christian believers stands. We readily acknowledge that we live in a pluralist society and culture, we believe in the values of dialogue and tolerance, we struggle to be politically correct not to offend in any way the sensibility of others. As correct as all this might be, it may also blur the vision of what we stand for.
Identity can’t be compartmentalised. We haven’t got several identities. Paul and Barnabas in the first reading give account of how God had opened the door of faith to the pagans. That door remains open. But we can’t stand for ever on the doorstep. We need to take decisions and make choices. While in Acts, pagans went in through that door, in John’s gospel it gave Judas the freedom to leave.
Thomas Merton claimed that “there is in all things a hidden wholeness”. There is even in each and every one of us a hidden wholeness waiting to come out. But many a time, out of fear, anxiety, cowardice, or opportunism, we keep hiding that wholeness and our true identities. We end up living divided lives. Who are we and what is our vision for today’s and tomorrow’s world?
This is what probably Judas represents in today’s gospel, that aspect of us which can resist even the powerful presence of the risen Lord and keep us prisoners of our thoughts and plans. Judas represents all that blocks us from becoming whole, denying our inner darkness.
Parker Palmer, in his book A Hidden Wholeness, says that perfection means embracing brokenness as an integral part of life. How can we embrace brokenness and remain visionaries?
It is not at all easy to look around and share the Apocalyptic vision of a new Heaven and a new Earth. Adversity always blurs our vision and makes it difficult to see God’s project in the world as it is. But what gives sustenance to the whole architecture of God’s project is the new commandment of love.
What today’s readings hammer in is that the entire mission of evangelisation on the part of the Church is meant to sustain the belief that the old city can be transformed into a new one, that God can make things new.
The Church exists not exclusively in function of the new Jerusalem in eschatology but in function also of a new Earth where Jesus’ resurrection can be tangible. This new Earth envisioned by St John is left in our hands, it is our commitment.
So when we speak of the new commandment of love, that love has to turn global, it has to be concern for others, for the entire creation, for the dignity of all. It is mainly the love that can transform our cities and touch the hearts of people on all levels, whether political, economical, social or cultural.
We all need to be in touch with our inner selves. But we all need also to be in touch with the needs of others. Jesus’ commandment of love, that love which becomes the sign of recognition of who we are, goes beyond the sphere of interiority. We cannot preach new things and at the same time remain nailed to old frames of mind that deny us the very possibility of believing that things can change.
The fact that Jesus says that it is from this love that “everyone will know that you are my disciples” puts all responsibility for the credibility of his word on our shoulders. The vision of the new city stands or falls with how far faith and love sustain each other and become tangible in our lives.
Where the concern for a new world of justice and love is in question, where even our commitment as believers is concerned, if we become historically sterile, then we would simply be rendering God’s project as mere illusion.