MICHSHOLS

To come after the Magister entails a need to craft a listening heart marked by the demand to be radical because, as Pope Benedict XVI reminds us, we were made for greatness and not to be deceived by comfort sought or offered. Hence, as we consider discipleship, we need not be reminded that truth and roses have thorns (Veritas et rosae habent spinas).  

This reminds me of a passage that at first sight proves baffling: “And if your eye causes you to stumble, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to enter life with one eye than to have two eyes and be thrown into the fire of hell” (Mt. 18,9). 

Being snared by the eye is a familiar story because just as “Death and destruction are never satisfied, neither are human eyes” (Prov. 27,20). Thus, we are warned: “The eye is the lamp of the body: if your eyes are healthy, your whole body will be full of light. But if your eyes are unhealthy, your whole body will be full of darkness. If the light within you is darkness, how great is that darkness?”(Mt.6,22-23). 

This passage evokes a wider insight, surpassing the gouging of one’s eyes. The Hebrew ‘michshol’, translated as ‘to stumble’, offers some insights. 

In Jewish law, it is forbidden to put a ‘michshol’ in front of a blind man’s path (Lev 19,14). This can be extended to mean that one should not be a ‘michshol’ for others (lead others to do wrong). 

In Ezekiel, ‘michshol’ has an ethical underlining: “Son of man, these men have set up idols in their hearts and put wicked stumbling blocks before their faces”(Ezek. 14,3). 

In Isaiah, God is a ‘michshol’ for those who betray His trust: “He will be a holy place; for both Israel and Judah he will be a stone that causes people to stumble and a rock that makes them fall ” (Isa. 8,14). 

All three examples specify a negative aspect that blinds our hearts to what God intends by ‘emeth’ (firmness, faithfulness, truth) and ‘hesed’ (loving-kindness, mercy, unfailing love). This comprehension is reinforced in Matthew, who associates ‘michshol’ with someone who scandalises: someone who causes “the little ones – those who believe in me – to stumble”(Mt. 18,6).

Concerning discipleship, rethinking my michshols, how do they prevent me from following the Magister by creating uncertainty within my heart? This ambiguity hinders my formation of conscience because our goal is love from a pure heart and a good conscience and a sincere faith (1Tim. 1,5). Prayerful silence provides a realistic and enriching environment to comprehend this observation

Admitting my michshols is not easy unless one intends to take seriously the Magister’s observation: ‘Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your eye?’ (Mt. 7.3-5) 

It’s easy to ignore my michshols: to project my weaknesses and sins onto others and to hypocritically assume that I can heal others by not recognising my michshols. 

  Admittance proves more realistic but tougher to realise because truthfulness is increasingly subjugated to personal likes and dislikes. Caged by subjectivity implies that the formation of conscience proves harder because evangelical values are subjected to personal justifications that undermine our self-understanding and identity as disciples. 

My conversion (Metanoia) thus implies an on-going search to expose my heart to God: to focus on the Magister as my way, truth, and life (Jn. 14,6). This is a liminal experience underlined by the opportune time to honestly recognise my michshols without the fear of condemnation (Jn. 3,17).

The silence that accompanies our liturgy offers us a space in time to tackle our blunders as a learning experience to greater insights clarified in intimate prayer. But carefulness accompanies because ‘our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt’ (William Shakespeare, Measure for Measure, 1.4.85).

Martin