Do you ever feel
weighed down, pressed upon, under pressure, stressed? When St. Paul talks about our afflictions in
the 2nd reading, that’s what he’s talking about; in fact, the
literal meaning of the Greek word he uses is ‘being squashed and squeezed,’
like a piece of concrete undergoing a stress test. Squeezing is a technique that civil engineers
use to test a piece of concrete before they use it to build something
substantial. If there are any tiny
cracks in the concrete that are invisible under normal circumstances but could
cause the building to come crashing down, under pressure they become plainly
visible to the naked eye. It’s not safe
to build with concrete unless it’s first been afflicted.
Affliction
does the same to us. When the squashing
hits us, cracks of saints and sinners become painfully visible. But, unlike concrete that might be discarded,
our master builder will never discard us.
Those cracks exist to be filled with God’s love, the love that Paul
tells us “has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been
given to us.”
Those cracks
often consist of taking one true aspect of God and letting that become the
whole picture. Let me give an example: maybe
we’re blessed with a keen sense of God as active in our lives, but our crack is
to take that too far, making God into a micro-manager or a helicopter parent,
so if we feel afflicted we’re left sure that God did this: God made me ill, God
take away my job, God isolated me; God afflicted me. That’s a crack that will be healed.
God
doesn’t afflict us. Affliction is the
death throes of a world passing away, it’s not God’s wrath. We feel it keenly perhaps because there’s a
lot that needs to pass away. We do feel
afflicted, because there are forces impeding us for living that love-based
communion of persons here on earth.
Death, disaster, prejudice, exploitation, dehumanization… we could give
a litany of the forces that afflict.
They’re passing away.
Or maybe
our crack is to fix on this separation God has from the world of pain and
sorrow, maybe we do rest assured of the goodness of God, that God has no truck
with evil but we take that to the point of saying that God is so removed from
evil that He must be distant from me in my time of affliction: God is absent
from this.
That’s a
crack that will be healed: God is never absent.
The Spirit is always in our hearts, being poured through us, praying for
us with deep sighs, too deep for words.
Jesus is united with us in every affliction, Jesus who knows betrayal,
Jesus who knows pain, Jesus who knows abandonment… Jesus who knows exaltation,
Jesus who knows glory. Spirit and Son: these
aren’t two redundant modes in which God might be present to us in our
suffering, these are two people, the Son and the Spirit, in loving relationship
with each other and with the Father, present to us in unique ways and longing
to draw us into that loving relationship.
That’s
what Jesus is talking to his disciples about in today’s gospel. God was present in our midst, fully human, and
so he died; fully divine, and so he rose and conquered death. Before the disciples had seen that shocking
victory, there was so much he couldn’t teach them. So we have been given the Spirit, who
glorifies the Son by continually making him present to us. The Spirit comes to us to bear witness to the
Son who did not carry out his own will, but his Father’s.
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