To live is to think
Vivere est Cogitare – Cicero
Many claim Abraham as their father in faith or as their prophet without necessarily intending to embrace his non-conformism, rooted in his willingness to obey; discipleship endeavours to follow Abraham’s footsteps.
Hence, the need to consider the Johanine insight when speaking of discipleship - “He must increase; I must decrease” (Jn. 3,30), which takes on a new nuance since it reminds me to be different, not by what I say or do but by what I become.
This becoming is addressed by my willingness to think: to integrate values and choices that reflect my decision to follow the Magister as a disciple. This resolve integrates the readiness not to be afraid as a response to him who gave his life for many (Mt. 20,28).
Camouflaged in spiritual jargon, the Johanine affirmation is promoted and asserted: practising it highlights the cost of discipleship in tangible ways and manners. Non-conformism is, therefore, not a question of wearing a particular garb or emblem, which can prove a theatrical finale or a presumed commitment.
Instead, what is proposed is the need to be different by embracing the Magister’s ‘Kenosis’ self-emptying, “who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death – even death on a cross!” (Phil. 2,6-8)
No one wants to die: ‘Kenosis’ demands it. No one wants to be lesser: ‘Minorem’ exigencies it. We might preach them or even pretend to practice them without necessarily thinking critically concerning their significance.
Claiming one or the other doesn’t suffice if our way of thinking and living confirms a ‘Majorem’ status, which unfortunately undermines our identity when “in our relationships with one another, we lack the same mindset as Christ Jesus” (Phil. 2,5).
It should, therefore, not surprise us that discipleship demands an intellectual honesty, which permits us Abraham’s freedom to wander beyond the known and the desired and embrace unknown horizons as we deepen our coming after the Magister unafraid to explore our fragility as a ‘kairos’ (the opportune time) to deepen our discipleship.
Abraham was seventy-five years old when first called to leave his homeland (Gen. 12,4): the fragility of old age accompanied him.
Our fragility entails a roadmap reminiscent of Abraham’s own experience, which is refreshed by a renewed novelty no longer limited by ‘Kronos’ (consuming time), but addressed by the novelty of ‘Kairos’ (the opportune time) to experience newness.
The disciple experiences this in ‘Metanoia’ - a radical rethinking of life, enriched by gained insights as we follow the Magister beyond a limited self-understanding preoccupied with being more rather than less so that we can savour freedom because where the Lord’s Spirit is, there is freedom (Gal.5,1)
Moving forward, the disciple will eventually reach Mount Moriah, where we experience the nakedness of the Crucified and thus, undressed, we experience the empty tomb, which turns out to be the cradle first encountered at Bethlehem: a lived-out faithfulness that embraces the past and imbues the future envisioned in the Incarnation.
In this liminal emptiness, ‘Agape’ (committed love) is the bigger mystery within our heart, which, when accommodated, moulds our hearts (Edith Stein, The Science of the Cross).
“A heart to love, and in that heart, courage to make’s love known” (William Shakespeare, Macbeth, II.3). Rather than an attempt to rationalise our uncalled for violence and irresponsibility, this quote should serve us to question our motives and repentance: its validity subjected to a critical analysis that intends to enhance God’s presence.
Martin
Comments
Post a Comment