Steps to Discipleship

Questions are not necessarily welcome. Locked behind barred doors for fear of others (John 20,19), it’s dangerous stepping outside, because “ if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be s wept off to ” (J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring ). We readily limit the significance of the cross to an emblem to consolidate a religious or cultural identity, not as indicative of my search for truth, which can be merely subjective, conditioned by an inability to question: does this suffice for a Christian?  Laying the old life behind in the mists, we venture into the light. This adventure intends to explore the Magister’s assertion: “ I am the way and the truth and the life ” (John 14,6). No, the cross is not an excuse to enhance our misery because “ misery acquaints a man with strange bed-fellows ” (William Shakespeare, The Tempest II.2 ). The cross’s significance highlights our baptism because, as pointed out by Saint Augustine, all those who belong to Jesus Ch...

  Contemplation is not an excuse for laziness because a life centred on prayer motivates us to do more, as Mother Teresa and others demonstrate.  We are accountable for our actions, even for those we do our best to ignore. Rather than fear, this warning intends to awaken us from our inertia, which is balanced by a criterion: ‘ Ora et Labora ’ (Prayer and Work). Origen points out that praying ceaselessly merges prayer with work ( Treatise on Prayer ). This is verified by the Prayer of the Heart , which insists that we become prayer so that work becomes its visible sign. Unless our actions are imbued with a listening heart, our doings mirror our subjectivity, not our willingness to witness the Magister.  Focused on who we are in God's eyes, we are aware that our attitude can either enrich or impoverish our prayer and doings. This is clearly emphasised by Paul’s insistence: “ Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing y...

  Contemplation is usually associated with monks and cloistered nuns: a lifestyle focused on prayer.  But how does it relate to us, soaked in a hive of activity?  Undoubtedly, contemplation not only underlines but also furnishes meaning to our lives.  To keep my mind in my heart marks the beginning  of contemplation - an insight associated with the Prayer of the Heart . What underlines this acumen is an awareness that the ‘ contemplatio ’ relates to a “ locked garden, a spring enclosed, a fountain sealed ” unlocked by love (Song of Songs 4,9.12; 5,1-2).  Rather than being distracted by our doings, unwilling to comprehend the Magister’s words, we need, as St. Jean Marie Vianney suggest, to close our eyes and mouth as we open our hearts in a dialogue focused on love: to seek in God our wholeness as we recognise our imperfections.  To comprehend this insight we need to listen: to sit at the Magister’s feet and let his voice enlighten us. So doing, we real...

  Focusing on Shabbat’s stillness, the cross becomes a sanctuary in time. Challenging our trustworthiness, it expresses a lived-out ' silentium'  underlined by the Magister’s reassuring presence: ‘ Come to me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest ’ (Matthew 11,26).  Living our Agape – our committed love - hurts because, enkindled by the warmth of Christ’s presence, we mirror his ' self-emptying ’ (Kenosis) by being loyal to our baptismal promises.  Enkindled, we seek our restfulness in the Father through His Son, which offers us an equilibrium underlined by serenity strengthened by the Holy Spirit.   Unafraid, we plunge into the darkness of troubled hearts that lack the Magister’s restfulness, witnessing God’s ‘ loving-kindness ’ (Hesed), which initiates an adventure best defined by St. Ignatius as ‘ Contemplatio ad amorem ’.  Adventures can prove misleading when mistaken for escapades: hence, the need to identify with the Magister ...

  The insistence on “ babbling like pagans ” (Matthew 6,7) tempts us: it is freely embraced when God’s graciousness no longer suffices, and the cross is belittled.  Sometimes, we yearn for His gifts, rather than His presence, taking comfort in our presumptions! To understand our craving, which might take time, we need to place the cross as the key to sustaining our integrity.  The cross is God’s therapy, enabling us to encounter our fears and frustrations. It recalls us to its silence and how this experience contributes to the formation of our conscience (Catechism num. 1783-1785).  This silence sustains a dialogue of love: ignoring it reflects an attempt to hide our hearts from God: frustrated, because, as Jeremiah warns, “ You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. ” (29,13). Restless, ignoring prayerful dialogue, this endeavour is unrealistic.  Prayer exposes our hearts to God: recognising deceptions while discerning what underlies our...

Self-righteousness confirms ignorance: the inability to “ Know Thyself ”: excluded, discipleship is illusory because it fails to deliver results.  Focusing on this wisdom - knowing yourself , its deeper meaning -allows us to marvel at discipleship’s true significance: the Magister’s gaze, which provides us with a renewed self-understanding illuminating our choices,  unlocking our heart to a love that informs our conscience.  Abraham’s listening faith addresses this path: courageously, we embark on an adventure,  revealing the Divine’s  silence encountered in prayerful dialogue, which is preparatory to sustaining our deepening search for intimacy with the Magister.  Neither the risks nor the fears involved should be minimised. We should not confuse our desires with a fanciful imposed deception concerning discipleship: the initial accompanying emotions should be recognised for what they are; a passage pointing to deeper insights. We should, therefore, not be ...

Peacefulness, the sort of peace that pertains to the eye of the storm, is fictitious because, beyond the apparent quietness, the storm rages on.   Life is like that: as long as we direct its course, all appears normal. But as the storms of life penetrate our quietness, awakened from our slumber, we cry out: “ My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? ” (Psalm 22,1; Matthew 27.46; Mark 15,34).  This cry accompanies us in our adventurous decision to follow the Magister who points out that, “ a disciple is not above his teacher ” (Matthew 10,24). Forgetful, we create our own paths or pretend to do so and yet, he reminds us: “ I am the way and the truth and the life ” (John 14,6).   Encountering the raging waves, beyond the eye of the storm, the illusions of fidelity are swept away when we realise that our love is self-centred. We associate sin with what we do and not with what we become: hardened, calloused hearts; hardly able to hear, our eyes are sealed (Matthew 1...

The cost of discipleship is not determined by an imposed comprehension because the illusion of being what one is not limits clear-mindedness: an identity crisis that highlights the decline of some religious institutions now reduced to evoking traditions they once represented, but which are now mere memories used to justify themselves.  What is being questioned is not discipleship, but the unwillingness to live it: a discernment accompanies, namely, that desiring something does not necessarily imply that we are willing to pay the price of acquiring it.   We mistakenly think that we are called to enjoy ourselves by imposing our intentions, ignoring set objectives. To understand these objectives, the Magister remains the measure of our choices and, consequently, our actions. Responding to Jesus challenges our intention to answer wholeheartedly, which integrates personal insights and experiences now renewed by our willingness to respond. Hence, we are called to become somethi...

Deepening our discipleship, a realisation takes hold: the need to be diverse without being detached from others, especially the afflicted and those ignored.  What guides this undressing is the Magister’s ‘ self-emptying ’ through his Incarnation and obedience to his Father (Philippians 2,7). Surpassing the romanticised idealisation, its implementation proves adventurous.  This undressing articulates the desire to follow the Magister without ignoring what hinders me from doing so; it is neither forced nor imposed.  Desiring it can be delusional when I fail to discern the need to implement it; compromised when reduced to mere words lacking commitment to repentance and the fear of being unmasked.  What is intended is not others’ conversion, but my own. Ignoring it explains the encountered inconsistencies. Sustaining them degrades the Good News to mere ideological affirmations, unable to communicate God’s love, which requires a desired experienced self-emptying sustained...

Walking is a  downplayed  image, but it dominates the Gospels as the Magister crisscrossed the Galilee, Samaria, Judea, and beyond.  It defines discipleship as we follow Jesus through choices that edify our shared path, now enriching a fellowship centred on the breaking of bread and the sharing of the ‘ one cup of salvation ’ (Psalm 116,13).  Exploring t his insight allows us to experience ‘ self-emptying ’ because “ Is not the cup of thanksgiving for which we give thanks a participation in the blood of Christ? And is not the bread that we break a participation in the body of Christ? ” (1Corinthians 10,16)  As Aquinas indicates, this sharing not only displays but generates commitment, because nothing matters but the Magister: “ Non nisi te, Domine ” (Nothing if not you, Lord).  Musing, faithfulness highlights this intended fellowship:  it sharpens awareness of the Kingdom’s mysterious workings within our hearts.  Within this context, Balthasa...

A challenging question keeps reappearing: ‘ Do you love me more than these others? ’ (John 21,15). To answer this question honestly, we have to share Peter’s dilemma and experience the significance of the Cross ourselves.  Some resolve this dilemma by perceiving discipleship as gnostic: an exclusive elitism for the few. This understanding is dishonest because it contradicts the Magister’s understanding: “ I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance ” (Mark 2,17; Matthew 9,10-13; Luke5,32).   Self-righteousness confirms ignorance: the inability to “ know thyself ”. Excluding this wisdom,which includes repentance, discipleship is illusory. A lived-out mirage, disappointing since it fails to deliver results.   Focusing our attention on the deeper meaning of repentance allows us to marvel at love’s true significance: God's commitment to each one of us. What this tells us is that the disciple is a person  addressed by the Magister’s loving g...

Discipleship, in the sense of ‘ coming after ’ the Magister, cannot be imposed because it is rooted in a free response inspired by faithfulness: the willingness to live it.  What highlights our faithfulness is preciousness, because it highlights a search that distinguishes what is really important from what is not:   “ Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant looking for fine pearls. When he found one of great value, he went away and sold everything he had and bought it ” (Matthew 13,45-46). Within this framework, discipleship concerns a voice quietly inviting a personal response, which evolves into a prayerful dialogue accentuated by intimacy, highlighting its preciousness.  Awareness accompanies, because “ the course of true love never did run smooth ” (William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream , I, 2).  Clear-mindedness deepens our response to avoid pitfalls: envy dressed up as a concern or imposed racism to justify the blue-eyed boys, sometimes o...

 Caught up in our routines and aspirations, like fish convinced that their bowl is an ocean, we are confined by our shadows unable to confront our fears. Not experiencing the light of the Resurrection, we can only dream of having done so.  Sometimes, like the prodigal son (Luke 15,11-32), we need to experience what it means to reach rock bottom before we can understand, because Golgotha precedes the empty tomb: Mary Magdalene’s love defines the difference (John 20,1-18). Ignoring this love, some think they are immune and persist in their delusions. Despite hearing his voice, they fail to recognise their ‘ Rabboni ’: fear constrains them; bolted doors highlight their anxious apprehensions (John 20,19).   This anxiety is a repeated experience that needs exploring if one intends discipleship. Ignoring it is more common but dreams can become nightmares once the sun awakens from its sleepiness. Some pretend otherwise: like whirling dogs trying to catch their tails, they i...

Eastertide  concerns brokenness, which characterises the story of the Samaritan woman (John 4,1-26): it asks us to consider that “ the Lord is close to the broken-hearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit ” (Psalm 34,18). This realisation permits us to live our conversion because, quoting Saint Augustine, “ In my deepest wound I saw your glory and it dazzled me ”.    Lent allowed us to consider the emptiness that accompanies those seeking fulfilment in empty relationships – she had multiple relationships (John 4,16-18) and satisfaction in the wrong places: in the possibility of not having to come to the well.  ‘ Comfort sought? ’ Partly, because she came to the well alone and at noon, avoiding others either due to shame or rejection: an outcast in her community (John 4,6-7)?  Not ignoring her, we are similar: at times, we are shamed by our attitudes or choices, other times we are ostracised for no apparent reason. These experiences can break or make us, ...

Preaching Christ does not necessarily entail living Him: human words, independently of their good intentions, can never fill this void.  Our words are often a barrier to ‘ hearing ’ (Deuteronomy 6,4) God and our hearts: deafening, they neither enhance us nor grace those who hear them.  Hence,  Paul’s advice: “ Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what helps build others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen “ (Ephesians 4,29).  Focused on ourselves, we silence consciences by superfluous words, intended to hide our shortcomings. Roaming in circles, we ignore the cross and its power: “ when I am lifted from the earth, I will draw all people to myself ” (John 12,32).  Undermin ing its power, we are stuck, unable to reconcile our affirmations with our choices. We overlook that although pure and blameless, “ God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God ” ...

     Following the sorrowful mother this Friday, we realise that our steps matter: our need to adapt them in a harmonious procession. Failing, disharmony distances us from others.  Repentance expresses our search for harmony. It integrates an intimate ' I-Thou ' relationship lived out within the us of the faith community. It is, thus, unfortunate when we emphasise the message and ignore the Messenger because disharmony results.  Rather than an ethical understanding, the heart's conversion is focused on intimacy with Christ through others. The result is a heart enlightened by His presence as the foundation stone when we speak of faith's transmission in terms of words and deeds ( Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2472).    Our attitude towards others is integral to our witnessing. This raises a question: ' Is meekness of heart something sought and practised ' (Matthew 11,29)? If so, then Pope John XXIII's intuition proves helpful: to see everything, over...

Like Stephen Daedalus (James Joyce, Ulysses ), we take refuge in big fearful words: big words that speak of generosity, peace, or justice and make us so unhappy as we realise that presumption underlines them. Hence, “ the goal of our instruction is love from a pure heart and a good conscience and a sincere faith ” (1 Timothy 1,5). Challenging, because it reminds us of the need to listen to our hearts.  Listening is a learning experience that isn’t easy to realise, and yet, it enlightens what we mean by prayer. Superfluous words hinder the Spirit’s stirrings within our hearts and mute conscience’s challenging gaze, sealing its irrelevancy as our babbling muffles our hearts’ joyfulness.  Words prove hollow unless they reflect a ‘ renewed ’ heart focused on the Magister through repentance. Lacking this renewal, a void intervenes and suffocates our joyfulness. Emptiness! And yet, joyfulness signs our path as indicated by the Magister: “ I have told you this so that my joy may be i...

 Claiming discipleship, we need to constantly measure our claim: the ratio of our willingness to embrace ‘ committed love ’ (Agape) and implement it as a fundamental value within our lives. Its integration enhances our self-understanding as we meet the Magister through our choices.  So doing, we need to consider our environment, be it physical, emotional or spiritual, because it either enhances or else hinders our coming after the Magister. What dominates many of us is – and this brings into perspective Huxley’s insight ( Brave New World )  – a cosmic order focused on the ‘ me, myself and I ’ now subjected to an irresistible invasive technology that doesn’t necessarily enrich us.  Some suggest that we are but an extension of this mechanism: an affirmation that underlines Orwell’s opus (George Orwell, Nineteen Eighty-Four ). The automation of the human person sustains a misreading: a fading dignity confounding our self-understanding.  Social media upholds this mi...

As Seneca observes,  the language of truth is simple  (Veritatis simplex oratio est), and yet, it is not easy to communicate the truth unless one intends it. Truth can be intuitive, but when ignored or downplayed, it judges, sometimes accusing: nowhere is this more apparent than when fakeness defines our discipleship.  Coming after Christ teaches us that ‘ Veritas et rosae habent spinas ’ – truth and roses have thorns : it entails a need to craft a listening radical heart because, as Pope Benedict XVI reminds us, we were made for greatness, not to be deceived by comfort sought or offered.   This reminds me of a passage that initially 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 ” (Matthew 18,9).  Being snared by the eye is a familiar story because just as “ Death and destruction are never satisfied, neither a...

A desired intimacy, focused on the Magister as the source of our love, enriches friendship: if wanting, it is best to enclose your heart in silence until enlightened by love, rather than by desire.  The hurt we cause those we love pains our heart when our silence is interpreted as abandonment or worse, betrayal.   Friendship encourages growth and independence, rather than decline and dependence.  While affirming that love has no limits, it must not be forgotten that the course of true love is stony:  one example concerns the friendship between David and Jonathan (1 Samuel 18,1-2 Samuel 21,13). Saint Jerome points out that a friendship that can cease has never been real: a wounding experience that perpetuates untruthfulness and thus conditions the possibility of friendship.  Stumped, we harden our hearts: we incarcerate ourselves in darkness, because true friendship matters. Sometimes, we have to let go because some are meant to be part of our journey, not t...

Aloneness increasingly characterises our society as mental health issues impact us silently. Despite the invasive social media, isolation is reinforced. Love at first sight! Manipulating one night stands. Emptiness! ‘ L’Éstranger ’ enlightens: strangers roaming in a meaningless silence.  Debussy’s observation: ‘ music is the silence between the notes ’ helps me appreciate my search for togetherness: some call it solidarity, because we are not born for ourselves only.  Exploring the silence uniting us: a streaming fellowship. Sacred steps!  Working through my emptiness: the empty tomb is the modus operandi addressing my choices. Magdalene enlightens bolted doors (John 20,11-18). Outstripping my fears, imposed confinements are surpassed: “ God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control ” (2 Timothy 1,7). Gratefulness!  It challenges me to become fragile for the sake of others. Weakness is not envisaged. Instead, a replacing willingness to follo...

The year’s yearnings accompany, sometimes devouring, leaving us breathless. We need rest! Similar to the Shabbat, Lent offers us a space in time to be real by resting from what we do, which often summarises our self-understanding.  Lent can help us to understand the patterns that underpin much of our doing. And as we understand, like Saint Mary of Egypt, encountering the Cross, we discover our freedom.  Most of us are neither cold nor hot: “ I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! So because you are lukewarm – neither hot nor cold – I am about to spit you out of my mouth ” (Revelation 3,15). The price we pay for being lukewarm is that we become indifferent, ignoring ourselves. Fear dominates! Like the Laodiceans, to whom the passage is addressed, we fail to make a difference in the world by being a light (Matthew 5,14), because we have lost our saltiness (Matthew 5,13), replacing it with feeling snug, soothing in our unhea...

There was a time, not so distant, when philosophy was discouraged and theology was excluded from our university. Some insisted that an education enlightened by the Classics is wasteful! Not thinking critically is advantageous to  ‘ Big Brother ’ seeking to impress us with a fallacious salvific presence. This is part of our story: we cannot ignore its impact, but this does not mean that we have learned from it. The Classics offer insights unavailable to those unlucky enough to ignore them. For example, ‘ hubris ’ (hybris) speaks of a personality undermined by excessive overconfidence. Hubris proves a frequent theme in Greek mythology, often portrayed as a hero’s fatal flaw that leads to disaster. ‘ Icarus ’ is one example. Attempting to escape from Crete, his father, ‘ Daedalus ’, made him wings made of feathers and wax. Despite being warned by his father, Icarus flew too close to the sun: his waxed wings melted and tumbling into the sea, he drowned.  Self-importance undermines...

I find myself roaming in one of these trendy shopping centres replacing our village squares, where individuals were once conscious of being part of a greater whole. People rush dreamily here and there, preoccupied with themselves but little else besides. Limnos emerges: the dream island where Hypnos had his cave, poppies decorating its entrance. Watered by Lethe, the river of forgetfulness, day and night are indistinguishable. His brother Thanatos (Death) watches on as their parents, Nyx (Night) and Erebus (Darkness), extend their shadowy presence.  Emporiums, carols trumpet, but the king is ignored as images of Christmas Father replace him. Solitary, moving statues, lacking dialogue, ignore each other because the latter presumes an existing relationship, surpassing one-night stands. Every relationship aspiring to intimacy is contemplative, which exhibits a willingness to listen. This envisaged silentium is expressive of ‘ committed love ’ (Agape), which, having surpassed the fear ...

Nothing should be presumed: neither that our hearts are immune from envy nor that talking of faith is necessarily indicative of faithfulness. Sometimes, envy permeates the heart even if concealed in a mirage intended to convince others that we mean well: “ Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves ” (Matthew 7,15). Unfortunately, neither clerics nor religious are immune.  Envy is dangerous if ignored, more so when denied. A Spanish proverb affirms, “ Envy bites but never eats, that is why it always insists ”. Its insistence is a recipe for restlessness: the lack of peace within the heart, indicative of the Magister’s absence.  It contradicts discipleship because ‘ committed love ’ (Agape) “ is patient, love is kind: it does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud ”(1 Corinthians 13,4). It is, therefore, futile that we tolerate it, since “ envy makes the bones rot ” (Proverb 14,30). Thus, Moses did not rebuke Eldad and M...

Liturgically speaking, we have entered the ‘ Ordinary Time ’: some thirty weeks intended as preparatory to celebrating those special moments known as Advent and Lent. I usually begin this time with a five-day silent retreat focused on listening to God’s word, intended to recharge my batteries through intimate dialogue.  One accompanying fundamental insight into our liturgy is that each season provides me with something special: a discernment of who I am in God’s eyes. A question accompanies: “ Am I ready to deepen this sagacity? ” Answering this question, I realise that sometimes I lack the necessary attention to appreciate, let alone live, these insights. Silence helps me to order my priorities: not to let tiredness overwhelm me or think that somehow I am better than others, no longer in need of redemption. Being less (Minorem) is a key to this self-understanding.  Comforted by silence, I reconsider the significance of being less: a bridge that unifies, rather than a pier lea...

How often have I heard the Gospel proclaim, “ Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me ”(Matthew 16,24)! Three questions accompany this affirmation: (i). “ What does ‘deny myself’ imply ”? (ii). “ What does the reference to the cross mean ”? (iii). “ Why are these qualities specified as conditions to discipleship ”? These questions increasingly preoccupy me because, approaching the fortieth anniversary of my ordination, like a good accountant, I need to add up my ‘ numbers ’ and discover the results: numbers do not lie. Wisdom demands self-criticism because “ the unexamined life is not worth living ” (Plato, Apology, 38a5-6). Thinking, examining my life, another Gospel passage draws my attention: “ Make every effort to enter through the narrow door, because many, I tell you, will try to enter and will not be able to ” (Luke 13,24). The narrow door identifies with the cross because, as noted, it specifies the willingness to follow the Ma...

Nothing stands in the way, but we must not presume that the mere imposition of our will edifies our self-understanding of discipleship: being blind doesn’t mean I can see. Discipleship is an invitation to embrace the Magister’s ‘ self-emptying ’ (Kenosis), which necessarily involves a deeper understanding of the cross as a gateway to deeper insights. Ignoring or attempting to replace it merely muddles things, especially if conceit accompanies us. Ignoring the cross, tradition’s triviality highlights our presumptions and consolidates childishness by downplaying childlikeness. In Nietzsche’s footsteps, often misunderstood and misused, childlikeness identifies with self-transformation guided by the principle that we relate not to what lies deep within us, but beyond us.  Childishness not only accompanies us; sometimes, it defines us. The need to self-overcoming, integral to being childlike, is, therefore, necessary. It is, thus, no wonder that Paul invites us to distinguish between th...