Thomas à Kempis’s Twelfth Chapter of Book One of The Imitation of Christ is given the title, “Of the Utility of Adversity” (1,12).  Unsurprisingly for those who have read this  work even only to this point, it focuses on humility as a way to grow in holiness, that is, to become closer to God.

Today’s Gospel (Mk 6:1-6) finds Jesus back in His hometown of Nazareth, teaching in its synagogue. The folks who know Him best marvel at the wisdom of His words and the works He has done (apparently news of His healing power and exorcisms got back to them).  It is clear that they did not see this coming from this man who had grown up there and lived in their midst for over two decades.  He must have been quite unremarkable (read: humble) in His work and His manner in those years before His public ministry.

But why take “offense at him” (also rendered “scandalized” meaning that He was an obstacle to them — I’m reminded of 1 Cor 1:23)?  It seems to me that they were envious of Him — they all came from the same place yet Jesus is blessed with wisdom and power and renown.  Jesus, in turn, once again shows humility.  Per Kempis’s lesson, Jesus accepted this “wrong opinion,” even though He “[did] and intend[ed] well,” with only a brief rebuke of His hearers.  Any temptation to vainglory was kept from Jesus by the attitude of the townsfolk.

That Jesus “suffer[ed] contradictions” should be no surprise to anyone familiar with the Bible.  It is easy to imagine Jesus’ mother sitting with the crowd in the synagogue, listening in rapt attention to her Son, then being heartbroken at the people’s attitude toward Him.  But she would not be surprised.  I’m quite confident that she reflected, as she often did (see Lk 2:51), on the words of Simeon at her Son’s presentation in the temple: “Behold, this child is destined for the fall and rise of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be contradicted” (Lk 2:34).

So, if Jesus, the Son of God, the Third Person of the Trinity, the sinless One, can accept being contradicted, scorned, and rejected in His desire to usher in the Kingdom of God, should we, with all of our sins and faults, expect any less an attitude toward us when we spread the Word (“where did you get all this?” they will say) and endeavor to live holy lives?

Remember the word I spoke to you, “No slave is greater than his master.” If they persecuted me, they will also persecute you. If they kept my word, they will also keep yours. (Jn 15:20 — it is worth reading the whole section vv. 18-27)

Let us stay humble and trust in the Master.

Christ in the House of His Parents (1849-50) by John Everett Millais

Kempis precedes these words by speaking of the ease in which we are discouraged by even small adversities and thus look everywhere but the Lord for help (1,11).  While he is focusing more on the battle against the flesh (concupiscence and sin), we can easily apply the good advice found in the headline to all adversities we encounter.

What must have been the discouragement of the two persons we encounter in today’s Gospel (Mk 5:21-43), then, with their great trials?  The first, Jairus, sees his young daughter’s declining health and must wonder why the Lord would soon take his beloved child in the flower of youth.  The second, the woman with hemorrhages, had exhausted her resources, and undoubtedly her patience, in seeking help from doctors for a cure.  Both were desperate and did not count the cost of getting to Jesus.  Both fought massive crowds to get to Him.  Jairus might have been concerned about receiving grief from other religious leaders who we know, in many cases, looked at Jesus with doubt or even contempt.  The woman, likely widely known to be in a permanent “unclean” state, as the womanly period ritually rendered one, fought the crowds, regardless.  Both strove valiantly in their battle with fear, dread, sorrow, and pain, with strong faith, to seek the Lord’s help.

Let us learn well from these two souls!  We are to have no fear approaching the Lord in our desperation, regardless of our past battles, regardless of what other’s think.  Going to Jesus in our trials, whether physical or spiritual, in complete faith that He will answer our prayers in the way that is best for our immortal souls, is what He desires.  Always remember these words from Christ:

Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest. (Mt 11:28)

True rest, that is, true peace of mind and heart, come only when embracing the Lord in all things.

Christ Healing a bleeding woman, as depicted in the Catacombs of Marcellinus and Peter.

Wouldn’t it be so much easier to live a good life if it weren’t for our most troubling defects and the temptations that inevitably come?  Well, our fallen nature militates against doing what is truly good (see Rom 7:15-19 and the CCC on concupiscence).  What Kempis is telling us (1,11) is that when God allows enticements in our lives we are to look at these not with contempt but as an opportunity to trust in the Lord that His “grace is sufficient for you” (2 Cor 12:9).  Think of it as exercise on the spiritual level: just as we lift weights to strengthen our muscles, so we encounter weighty spiritual challenges to strengthen our faith.

Today’s first reading (2 Sm 15:13-14, 30; 16:5-13) gives us just one of the consequences of David’s grievous sins surrounding the whole Bathsheba affair: his own son turns against him.  So this certain character, Shimei, associated with David’s predecessor Saul, comes out with insults against David.  The king is surrounded by his whole retinue, who wish to kill the man.  So Shimei is either extraordinarily brave, crazy, or sent by God.  David sees in this antagonist the latter: a messenger from the Lord, as we see in the headline.  David views this entire embarrassing episode as punishment from God, an opportunity to do penance, and maybe even gain favor by his own humility and humiliation.

David’s approach to all of  this provides an extraordinary lesson for us.  How difficult is it for us to receive rebuke, in any way but particularly in a public manner, even when we are in the wrong?  God works through our humble acceptance of correction and even humiliation to repair for the damage we’ve done.  But accepting it well not only helps make up for our wrongdoing, it enhances our ability to avoid such bad actions in the future.

Consider what St. Teresa of Avila said about this:

I never heard anything bad said of me which I did not clearly realize fell short of the truth. If I had not sometimes – often, indeed – offended God in the ways they referred to, I had done so in many others, and I felt they had treated me far too indulgently in saying nothing about these. (Way of Perfection, 15 taken from spiritualdirection.com).

In our fallen state, this sentiment goes against every fiber of our being.  But, with grace, nothing is impossible for us (see Lk 1:37).

Kempis is not shy about recommending mortification as a way to grow closer to God, as he does again here (1,11).  The more our minds are cluttered with worldly affairs, the less room there is in our lives for the Lord.

The prophetess Anna, in the episode of the Presentation of Jesus in the Temple (Lk 2:22-40), exemplifies this way of being.  Having been widowed early, it may well have been sixty years or more of her living in the way described in the headline.  For her piety, she likely got not much more than some grief from others, maybe a bit of sympathy for her early loss (and, it seems, no children), and probably more than her share of curious looks and murmurs for the eccentric old lady.

It seems that she became dead to herself upon her husband’s death, relishing divine things only from that point forward.  Could she have imagined such a reward, though?!  Seeing her Savior and His parents!  Being memorialized for all time in Sacred Scripture!  Who knows, maybe she, like Simeon, was given some insight into her one day seeing the Christ.  And what does she do immediately upon this glorious occasion?  Evangelize!  The result of her encounter with the Word Made Flesh was that she “gave thanks to God and spoke about the child to all who were awaiting the redemption of Jerusalem” (v. 38).

This is a model for us.  Exceeding joy and thanksgiving and a burning desire to share the Good News when encountering God.  Unlike Anna, we can have this intimate experience daily at Mass, where Jesus comes to us in Word and Sacrament, preparing us for an eternal dwelling place with Him and all the angels and saints.

I am reminded of Pope St. John Paul II’s final words on his deathbed: “Let me go to the house of the Father.”  These words, and today’s reading and reflection, invoke Psalm 27:

One thing I ask of the LORD;

this I seek:

To dwell in the LORD’s house

all the days of my life,

To gaze on the LORD’s beauty,

to visit his temple. (v. 4)

Finally, this evokes one of my favorite St. Louis Jesuits songs: This Alone.

The Prophetess Anna (1639) by Rembrandt

Good advice from Kempis (1,11).  When temptation first rears its head is when it needs to be distracted or stopped.  To paraphrase a saying that has stuck with me: entertaining a temptation is not a sin; problems arise, though, when the temptation entertains you.  We are very good at justifying all sorts of bad behavior (“I can allow myself one little vice,” “Who is it harming, anyway?,” “God loves me not matter what,” “I’m only human,” and so on).

We should be as lucky as David to have a friend like Nathan, who confronts us in our grievous errors without hesitation for the good of our immortal souls (2 Sm 12:1-7a, 10-17).  We have no indication one way or the other of David’s conscience after his dastardly deeds of the previous chapter.  No matter, that conscience comes in the form of a prophet whom we first encounter five chapters earlier when the Davidic covenant is revealed.  Nathan will be a part of David’s court for the rest of the king’s life.

It is to David’s credit that, upon Nathan’s condemnation of David’s actions, the latter speaks not one word of anger (being the king, he could have done anything he wanted to Nathan) or complaint, but, rather, he simply utters the words in the headline (in this simple, heartfelt, utterance we are reminded of the humble sinner in Jesus’ Parable of the Pharisee and Tax Collector — see Lk 18:13).  Further, when Nathan informs David of the dire consequences of his actions, all indications are that he accepts them then and there and in the future.  He is a true model or repentance (there are many penitential psalms attributed to David, the most famous being Psalm 51 — worth reading … every day).

Through the grace of God, Nathan is sent to David to stop any possibility that David would continue in his wicked ways, thus breaking off a potential evil habit before it could take root.  Nevertheless, David will be reminded for the rest of his life of his grave sins (“I will bring evil upon you out of your own house” — v. 11; just read the rest of 2 Samuel to see how this manifests itself), and it would redound to his dynasty well after he left the world (“the sword shall never depart from your house” — v. 10; just read the rest of the Old Testament to see how this manifests itself).

This is why we are not to despise fraternal correction, but accept it humbly.  We are also called to give fraternal correction, gently, and with love.  We are to be like God, “who “wills everyone to be saved and to come to knowledge of the truth” (1 Tim 2:4), including ourselves.

One final, separate note: why must the innocent child of David and Bathsheba’s illicit union die?  This is a disturbing consequence that God willed, is it not?  You can find many attempted explanations, but I found this article particularly interesting in its struggle to come to grips with this consequence.

David and Nathan (c. 1797) by Angelika Kauffmann

The next chapter of The Imitation of Christ (1,11) is dedicated to spiritual progress and what hinders it.  We will have a chance to dive in in the next several posts as this is a particularly outstanding chapter filled with quotable and thought-provoking lines.

David certainly was a passionate man, as we see even from his early life and heroic deeds (just one example: witness his boldness as a boy in offering to take on Goliath — 1 Sm 17:32-37).  In the famous episode recounted in today’s first reading (2 Sm 11-1-4a, 5-10a, 13-17), David is found shirking his duty to go out on campaign, idly passes his time, spies a beautiful (married) woman and decides he must have her (he too is married), finds out that she has become pregnant with his child, then, ultimately, has her husband killed.

If there ever was a case where someone shirking his duty to his charges (by not campaigning) and to his God (by not praying and acting uprightly), it’s King David.  Consider the great favors given to him: kingship over a united empire, triumph over enemies, and a covenant from God assuring an everlasting dynasty of anointed divine sonship (see 2 Sam 7).  Yet, seemingly taking it all for granted, in his sloth, his eye wanders, he commits adultery, which then leads to murder.  Sin is multiplied upon sin.

What is the old saying?  “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop” (see Prov 16:27).  Would David not have done better doing his duty, or at least staying focused on the Lord and all the good He had done for him?  David knew the commandments but in short order broke three of them (at least): coveting, adultery, and murder.  His flaunting of duty and devotion, due to his “passions and lusts,” as Kempis says, leads to contempt from God (“in the sight of the LORD what David had done was evil” — v. 27) and man (we’ll get to that tomorrow).

Now, for most persons (thank God!), our passions and lusts will not lead to this sort of unthinkable behavior.  But is it not the case that so little progress, and sometimes regress, in the spiritual life, is due to idleness leading to distraction and/or habitual sin?  Would we not be better off saying a quick prayer (or a very long one, as temptation warrants), reading the Bible or some other wholesome work (Kempis’s mention of the saints should lead us to their biographies), spending time before the Blessed Sacrament, or doing charitable works (for the Martha’s out there — see Lk 10:38-42)?

Let us learn from David’s sinful behavior today and his reaction when confronted with it tomorrow.

Bathsheba Bathing, painting from
the Book of Hours, Louis XII

Kempis continues to tell us about the dangers that come with speaking too much, here getting into the causes of it: settling for bad habits and caring little for the spiritual life (1,10).

Is it not often the case that someone unjustly (see CCC 2477 ff.) speaking ill of another “in confidence” has his diatribe broadcast far and wide with it eventually getting back to the object of the vitriol?   This is a very practical case of something hidden coming to light (inspired by today’s Gospel — Mk 4:21-25). This may be the best thing to happen to the person who decided to “vent his spleen” since he has the opportunity to make amends and hopefully learn his lesson through repentance and reparation.

But what about all those times when confidence isn’t broken or evil thoughts are left only to fester inside ourselves?  Studies show this is not good for one’s mental, and even physical, health.  Worse, this is devastating to one’s spiritual well-being.  Retaining this bad habit of judging others’ hearts (see Mt 7:1) impedes, or even harms, one’s spiritual advancement.  And if we take this disposition to our graves, the Lord, knowing our hearts, will judge us on it, so it will come to light in front of the Light of the World (see Jn 8:12) when we meet the Lord at death and later for all to see on the last day (see CCC 1039).  So, “nothing is secret except to come to light,” eventually.

There is one class of persons to whom we can make this sin known with the assurance that it will never be spread: the priest in Confession.  Bring this and all failings to him as often as necessary to receive guidance and grace to overcome these difficulties that are all too easy to fall prey to.  It is better to pay now rather than later.

Let us pray that we learn to look on every person as God looks on them: with love.

Kempis’s words (1,10) come as a response to those who seek comfort in their troubles first from one another.  Again, he recommends silence (“watch and pray”) as the better course.

Today’s Gospel gives us the famous Parable of the Sower and its explanation to the Twelve Apostles (Mk 4:1-20).  Jesus often taught in parables.  On this occasion He does so to a large crowd.  Jesus tells of the sower who scatters seed indiscriminately, some on a path, some on rocky ground, some in thorns, and some on rich soil.  Birds quickly ate up the first, the sun wilted the growth of the second, the thorns choked the third, but fruitful were the last seeds.

The quote in the headline is Jesus’ explanation of what happens to the persons He is describing in the third scenario.  They hear the word, alright, but what initially appeals to them in God’s word gets choked off and takes a back seat to all sorts of worldly concerns; the Word is not applied.

Looking for “outward consolation” can certainly be a hindrance to embracing the Word of God, can it not?  We commiserate, looking to unburden ourselves, looking for sympathy, maybe even casting aspersions on others in doing so.  Kempis’s advice — to seek first consolation from the Lord through prayer and contemplation — is much preferred.  Search the Scriptures.  Search your conscience.  What is causing this trouble?  What remedy to apply and what example to follow do we find in the Bible and the saints?

This is not to say, of course, that a trusted friend or a spiritual director cannot be consulted, if needed.  But it is best first to take one’s concerns to prayer and, generally (unless an extreme emergency), to pray on it before seeking outside help, and even then not to broadcast these issues widely.

We can all relate to the prudence of “sleeping on it.”  Just make sure to add “reading on it” and “praying on it” as well.

Sowing the Seeds (Greek Catholic Cathedral of Hajdúdorog, Hungary) (late 18th c.)
by unknown (most probably Mihály Mankovics)

Chapter Ten of Book One of Imitation (1,10) regards “Of Avoiding Useless Words,” which encourages silence habitually and edifying, or at worst, indifferent, speech, if necessary.  (Proverbs is loaded with sayings on the tongue — see here).

In today’s very brief Gospel reading (Mk 3:31-35), Jesus’ mother and other relatives come to the very popular preacher’s house in hopes of meeting with Him, only to find a large crowd filling the place (and, I suspect, spilled out to the surrounding area).  When the crowd gives Him word of His family’s arrival, He responds with the words in the headline.

Some try to convince us that Jesus is somehow being dismissive of His mother with these words.  Nothing could be further from the truth!  Mary is the exemplar of following the will of God to the letter, saying fiat! in her every thought, word, and deed all the days of her life.  Jesus implores His followers to imitate that pattern.  As Kempis advises, we are to “watch and pray” constantly that we may bear fruit for the Lord.  This reminds us of Jesus’ admonition during his agony in the garden:

Watch and pray that you may not undergo the test. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. (Mt 26:41)

For many of us, the spirit is indeed willing.  But, how often do we think, like St. Paul,

What I do, I do not understand. For I do not do what I want [i.e., the good], but I do what I hate. (Rom 7:15)

We wish that we could just will away our sinful habits at the snap of our fingers.  It is then that we come to realize our own weakness and our need for the free gift of grace.  Improvement requires constant prayer, the sacraments (the ordinary means of grace), and perseverance.  It has been said, and we can relate, that grace does not necessarily make virtuous living easy, but it does make it possible.

We are called to bear fruit by seeking the will of God and following it.  May we do so in abundance for our sake and for the sake of all whom we encounter.

Kempis writes this (1,9) in the context of speaking of our opinions, which we hold dear, and how it is often for the best to defer to others whose views are more trustworthy.

Many of the scribes and Pharisees of Jesus’ day, who tormented Him so with their constant accusations, attempted traps, and conniving, thought they had it all figured out.  They were the smart ones, the learned ones.  They had studied, debated, and taught the Scriptures.  They were the Lord’s special envoys, those closest to Him.  They deserved the respect of the Jewish faithful.

So, when someone comes along who questions their hearts and threatens their status they quickly go from suspicion, to vile accusations (like the ones in the headline from today’s Gospel — Mk 3:22-30) and, in short order, to conspiring to kill Jesus.  Were some open to Jesus’ words and moved by Jesus’ miracles?  Yes.  But we don’t hear of many (Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea were two such men).  They needed to listen more attentively and speak less frequently.  In short, they needed humility.  Unfortunately, when they received a dose from Jesus, it seems that few learned their lessons.

What about us?  We love our own opinions.  We often think we have it all figured out.  What can he say to enlighten me?  What can she say that would be worth my while?  Well, a little humility is in order for us as well.  You, like I, have likely been surprised many times by persons who, at first blush, we felt had nothing to contribute to our knowledge or perspective only to find deep insight from those who have different backgrounds, experiences, and perspectives than we do.  When we are willing to not just hear, but listen, we grow.  And maybe we just might hear God speaking to us through our interlocutors.

Let us remember the old adage: the good Lord gave us two ears and one mouth for a reason.