Often when I’m reflecting on the daily readings, I spend time trying to put myself in the mindset of what’s being addressed. What if I were there, listening to these words? What if I tried to see things from the point of view of one of the other characters? Or how can I make a connection between the words of Sacred Scripture and my own life, by finding a parallel or drawing a connection?
That last tack is one that spoke to me as I thought about today’s readings. Today’s readings talk about the dangers facing believers. The reading from the Acts of the Apostles details Paul’s view: “I know that after my departure savage wolves will come among you, and they will not spare the flock. And from your own group, men will come forward perverting the truth to draw the disciples away after them. So be vigilant . . .”
The selection from the Gospel of John has Jesus’ prayer to the Father: “When I was with them I protected them in your name that you gave me, and I guarded them, and none of them was lost except the son of destruction, in order that the Scripture might be fulfilled. . . . I gave them your word, and the world hated them, because they do not belong to the world any more than I belong to the world.”
And those words led me to think about . . . driving. Which may be an unintuitive leap, but it makes sense with the way my brain works.
A recent installment of the comic strip XKCD shows a figure standing outside a car, saying: “Time to accelerate this giant machine up to terrifying speeds and steer it using my hands, which I am allowed to do because I took a 20-minute test in high school!” The caption/punchline states, “Driving freaks me out.” I’ve had thoughts similar to this comic for years. When it comes to driving, I’m a late bloomer (at least as far as American culture goes); I didn’t start until I was in my late 20s, a decade-plus after my friends and peers had began.
As a result of the relative newness of my driving, I like to think I take it more seriously than those who learned when they were teenagers. I have a subconscious rhythm as I drive: check my view, quick check my odometer, check my view, quick check my rear view, check my view, quick check my dashboard . . . As a result, I tend to be very aware of my surroundings. And, yes, driving is — at a fundamental level — pretty scary. People do stupid things (especially in recent years, as cell phones have become commonplace). Road hazards are everywhere. Weather affects the situation. Driving is quite probably the most dangerous thing I regularly do, and the result of significant error will be damage, harm, and possibly even death.
And yet, I drive. And I drive not quaking in fear, but aware of the dangers. I drive in the world, though I know the dangers, because the rewards for doing so — freedom, happiness, advancement of self and family — are significantly greater than not driving.
There’s an undercurrent of fear in today’s readings. But it’s not fear of the sort where you go, “Oh, no! I’d better hide in a closet.” It’s a fear borne out of the realization that the stakes are high and the danger is real. Paul’s conclusion isn’t, “Well, savage wolves will come among you, so lash out and quake in fear.” No; his recommendation is “be vigilant.” Jesus notes the danger that awaits his believers. But he explicitly says, “I do not ask that you take them out of the world [my emphasis] but that you keep them from the Evil One. They do not belong to the world any more than I belong to the world.”
In other words, Jesus acknowledges the danger, but he explicitly asks the Father to leave us in that danger (by not taking them out of the world). . . so that we may better do the will of the Father and fulfill the teachings of Christ.
One of the most powerful, mature realizations when it comes to romantic love is realizing that — to truly exist — there must be an element of danger and risk. Your beloved may fall out of love with you. Some calamity may befall your beloved. You may succumb to accident or injury and no longer be able to be the loving partner you were in the past. There are a thousand ways that a loving relationship can be imperiled, and one or both of you will be heartbroken. This doesn’t mean the answer is to not love, but to love with all your heart, knowing and understanding the risks, and doing what you can to mitigate them with forethought and deliberate living.
Many of the same feelings arise with my love as a parent. If tamping down some of the fear I feel for my son as I send him into the world — with its myriad dangers and ways for a young life to go wrong — meant I would love him less, then I realize I just need to live with the fear.
And, yes, the love one must feel to truly follow Christ means having some fear of your own. What if someone attacks me for my beliefs? What if a loved one grows distant because of my faith? What if someday I don’t feel the same fervor I once felt?
Again, the answer is not to be taken out of this world, nor to quake in fear, nor to decline the call in your heart. Rather, the answer is, “Be vigilant.” Trust in God. Pray. Know that Jesus himself prayed for his believers to be kept from the Evil One. Be honest with yourself and those you trust on a similar spiritual journey. Find solace in the Sacraments — Reconciliation and Holy Communion — to repair and rejuvenate your connection with the Almighty. And, perhaps, recognize and understand that there is a risk in this road we live, but the risk was foretold by Jesus millennia ago, and his wisdom has stood firm for a hundred generations of Catholics.
If you are undergoing a trial from someone who doesn’t understand or appreciate your faith, consider praying for them . . . earnestly and positively. If the light of Christ is not in their lives, they already struggle with a darkness they may not even realize they have. If you have struggles in your own heart, pray for the strength to overcome it, as I pray for you, and remember that Jesus — in his infinite wisdom — prayed for his believers to remain here, in this world, to overcome these challenges and serve the light.
If there are no significant dangers in your life, rejoice! Pray a prayer of thanksgiving. Enjoy the journey. But — as ever — be vigilant . . . and maybe check your blindspot again, just to be safe.
Today’s readings: Acts 20:28-38; Ps 68:29-30,33-35A,35BC-36AB; Jn 17:11B-19
