Monday 9 April 2012

The Cup Motif in the Gospel of Mark:Implications for Discipleship

“I bless thee in that thou hast deemed me worthy…
that I might take a portion among the martyrs
in the cup of thy Christ.”St. Polycarp

            When Vatican II permitted a return to this ancient way of sharing in the Eucharistic Sacrifice, it seems to me the Church provided us with a very powerful symbol to interpret and better understand our call to discipleship.  To consider communion from the cup just as “something extra” is to underestimate its significance and its potential.  I have found in ministry that to explain the significance of receiving communion from the cup can be a very important means for better understanding our mission. To reflect on the theme of the cup, I will be using the Gospel of Mark. 

The theme of discipleship, by which Mark presents Jesus’ followers in both a positive and negative light, constitutes an important narrative line in his story.  I will look at certain aspects of discipleship as they appear in Mark’s gospel, beginning with the Gethsemane scene (14:36) in which Jesus prays to the Father asking him if it be possible to “take this cup away.”  I will then explore the meaning of the cup which Jesus offers to James and John in chapter 10:38-39 and the cup which Jesus shares with the apostles at the Last Supper (14:23).

            Through the image of the “cup” as talked about in each of these passages, we can come to a better understanding of discipleship and a deeper appreciation of the meaning of “sharing the cup” at our Eucharistic celebrations today.  Finally, I will suggest what some of the implications of this sharing of the cup might be for ministry today, in light of the cup motif in Mark’s gospel theology.

The Cup in the Gethsemane Scene: Mark 14:36

For a proper understanding of the Gethsemane scene and the reference to the cup mentioned during Jesus’ prayer, it will be necessary to cast our whole discussion within the broader context of the mission of the Son of Man and with the disciples’ failure to understand that mission.

            The Gethsemane scene in Mark presents us, on the one hand, with Jesus as he struggles to face “the hour” and, on the other, with the disciples sleeping off on the sidelines, once again not catching the full significance of what was going on in that crucial moment in the mission of Jesus as the “Son of Man.”

            This is the most frequent of the three titles which Mark uses in his gospel story to refer to Jesus and is Jesus’ characteristic self-designation.  Significantly, it is used on several occasions when referring to the passion: 8:31; 9:31; 10:33.45; 14:21.41.

            The intense drama which we are invited to witness and share in this Gethsemane episode, has already gotten underway when Peter made his “confession” of the Messiahship of Jesus at Caesarea Philippi (8:29).  Mark tells us quickly, however, that Peter’s understanding of Messiahship was not the same as that held by Jesus.  Jesus lets Peter know that his confession is indeed incomplete when he makes what is known as his first passion prediction and refers to the suffering that the “Son of Man” must endure (8:31).  By using this title “Son of Man” here, Mark attempts to emphasize another essential aspect of Messiahship often not grasped when using the titles of “Son of God” and the “Christ”.  The idea of a suffering Messiah was just too much for Peter and he rejects the notion, which in turn prompts Jesus to accuse him of playing the role of Satan (8:33)!  Jesus’ second (9:31-32) and third (10:33-34) passion predictions also speak of the suffering the Son of Man must endure and these equally met with incomprehension and fear on the part of the disciples.[1]  The messianic mission of Jesus was not to be fulfilled in the way most people then expected that it would be.  The way Jesus was to follow, was the way of Calvary, and it was only after his death on the Cross, that Mark has a Gentile Centurion recognize Jesus as the “Son of God”.  Now the title could be appropriately applied to Jesus with no danger of being misunderstood.

            After the Last Supper and as the “hour” of his betrayal and handing over to the powers of darkness approached, Jesus retired with his disciples to Gethsemane and withdrew with three of them to pray.  In this scene, Jesus is seen as struggling with his fate, praying to the Father and asking him to let the hour pass and to remove the cup.  The “hour” is the time which reveals the full identity of his kingship.  His prayer at first aims at the elimination of suffering from his messianic ministry, that very suffering which was at the heart of his passion predictions and which was clearly implied with the use of the “Son of Man” title.  The request for the passing of the hour and the removal of the cup has every indication of a desire to bypass the cross.  In his moment of dread, Jesus would avoid the passion, provided it accorded with God’s will, for he adds, “yet not what I will, but what you will” (14:36).  He was struggling with the fulfillment of God’s will, of completing his mission of pouring out his life for all peoples.[2]

            R. S. Barbour suggests in his article on “Gethsemane in the Tradition of the Passion,” that what Jesus was up against at this moment of his prayer in the Garden was the confrontation of the total failure of his mission.  In the face of death and the breakdown of discipleship, he was at least momentarily questioning the whole purpose and effectiveness of his ministry.  He was face to face with the mystery of evil and with its operation in his life and in the world.  At this supreme moment of his life he was aware that his very suffering and death for humanity would entail the dissolution of the little community of believers that alone had remained faithful.  He was very much alone!  Now he had only to rely on the bedrock of God’s fidelity, and so he prays to the Father from the depths of his being, “Abba!”[3]

            David M. Stanley, S.J. also casts the prayer of Jesus in relation to the disciples and recalls the theme of the loving shepherd filled with pity and concern for his own.  Just before going to the Garden, Jesus had forewarned his disciples that their faith in him would be shaken: “I will strike the shepherd and the sheep will be dispersed” (14:27).  He interrupts his prayer to return three times to see if the disciples are still together and safe.  He finds them asleep, symbolic of their incomprehension of the real character of Jesus’ vocation as the Son of Man.

            As Jesus prays, he is seen as moving from the plea to have the hour of suffering pass him by and from an attitude of revulsion toward the cup, through the realization of the necessity of his redemptive death to win strength for his disciples in their testing, to a dynamic and voluntary acceptance of God’s will as he assumes the initiative in going forward to meet his captors.[4]

            Even though not explicitly stated in Mark’s gospel, the clear implication is that Jesus symbolically “drank the cup” in the end.  In other words, he did assume his messianic mission in the way of the Son of Man, in accepting his chosen fate of suffering and death as a consequence of his mission.  Through his lament and prayer in Gethsemane, Jesus came to terms with his identity as a crucified messiah.

            Jesus thus came through the test victorious and was later vindicated by God.  In “drinking the cup”, Jesus renews his commitment to the will of God, in showing his tenacious dedication to his mission of compassion and service to the point of death (10:45).  Now he could say to his disciples: “Rouse yourselves and come along.  See!  My betrayer is near” (14:42).

The Cup in Mark 10:38-39

Jesus’ prayer and struggle in the Garden which culminated in his acceptance of the Father’s will and of his “drinking of the cup” of suffering and death, contrasts sharply with the disciples who have slept peacefully on the sidelines.  As Jesus grappled with the full significance of the “hour” which was upon him, the disciples continue in their lack of understanding.  This brings into focus once again in Mark’s gospel the whole issue of discipleship failure, which is one of the themes he develops.  I would like to take a brief look at this issue now in light of the “cup motif”, this time as mentioned in chapter 10:38-39.

            As Jesus progressed toward Jerusalem (8:22-10:52), he taught his disciples by three passion predictions that he would suffer and die and then rise from the dead, after three days.  Each prediction concluded with an instruction on the true meaning of discipleship: 8:34-38; 9:35-50; and 10:42-45.  In them, Jesus clearly stated that he was the Son of Man who was to suffer, be rejected and killed.  To profess Jesus as Son of Man was to recognize that his way was the way of service and of giving life for others: “For the Son of Man also came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many” (10:45).

            But each instance of Jesus’ predictions of suffering and death was met by resistance or by attitudes of crass arrogance and ambition.  The disciples were spiritually blind, unable to grasp the identity of Jesus and the impact of his mission.  No where is this clearer perhaps than after the third prediction, when James and John got into a wrangle over positions of power and authority in the kingdom of heaven!  Their whole question was an indication that they had missed the point again and were not grasping the true meaning of discipleship.  This became clear with Jesus’ question which he proposed to them: “Can you drink the cup I shall drink or be baptized in the same bath of pain as I? (10:38)?  When they replied “we can”, Jesus responded: “From the cup I drink of you shall drink; the bath I am immersed in you shall share” (10:39).  The complete significance of what Jesus was asking of the disciples becomes clear for the reader of Mark’s gospel, when we see Jesus himself trembling and hesitant in the Garden, asking that “this cup” pass from him (14:26).  In the light of the unfolding of the Passion drama, obviously the disciples’ expression of willingness to share the cup of Jesus was not understood in the same terms Jesus was explaining it.  Jesus warned the disciples of the need to be constantly on the watch.  “Stay awake!  You do not know when the appointed time will come” (13:33).[5]

            This misunderstanding of the true meaning of discipleship came to a head in the events following the Last Supper.  Werner Kelber talks about this discipleship failure as expressed through the drama of the Gethsemane scene.  He mentions that just as Jesus pronounces three times in plain terms what to expect from associating with and following after him, on each of the three occasions the disciples only hear what they wanted to hear.  And three times at Gethsemane Jesus gives his chosen disciples a chance to endorse the model of a suffering messiah, but each time they let the occasion slip by them and evaded “drinking the cup” which Jesus would eventually drink.  Their blindness amounted to and their temptation consisted in the failure to come to terms with the passion Christology.

            Kelber also points out that when Jesus comes back to find the disciples sleeping, Jesus reverts to addressing Peter by the name “Simon” (14:37) for the first time since Jesus gave Simon his new name (3:16).  He thus was indicating that Peter had failed in his understanding of what it meant to follow Jesus.  This misunderstanding about Jesus’ mission and identity which runs through Mark’s gospel story, culminates in the flight of the disciples and the denial of Peter after the arrest.[6]
           
            The passion, then, is both the ultimate revelation of Jesus’ identity and the ultimate test for the disciples.  Mark discloses for the reader the “good news” that for every follower of Jesus it is the experience of suffering that guarantees the genuine nature of discipleship, just as for Jesus, the total giving of his life on behalf of others as an act of loving service, was the full expression of his ministry and identity as the son of Man.

The Cup at the Passover Meal (14:23-24)

Between the two references of the “cup” which we have looked at so far, we have the account of the Last Supper of Jesus with his disciples.  During this farewell meal, the cup is present in a very special way.  In the context of the passion narrative, Mark seems to want to use this scene as an interpretation of Jesus’ entire mission and that of the disciples’ stake in it.

            In the Last Supper, Jesus interprets the meaning of the bread.  First, in the spirit of the Feeding Stories in Mark, he blesses and breaks it, and then gives it to his disciples, identifying it this time as his body.  He is clearly saying that the broken loaf of bread is his body (his person) broken and given for them in his death.

            But Jesus spends little time in Mark in elaborating over the bread.  Rather he moves swiftly into the distribution of the cup and in its interpretation.  It is well to remember that the Greek word “potērion”, cup, was “a vessel for drinking, made of clay or metal, wide-mouthed and not at all deep”.  It was offered, according to mealtime use, by the head of the family to each diner.  To drink from the filled cup symbolized a communion among the guests.[7]  At the Passover Meal, three cups were passed around, the last of which was the “cup of blessing” used for the final thanksgiving prayer.  It was this cup which Jesus would interpret in a new light and which was later considered as the cup of the Eucharist, or “the Lord’s Cup”.  After the required blessing, the head of the family would lift the cup of blessing a hand’s breadth above the table, and with his eyes fixed on the cup would say on behalf of all the prayer of thanksgiving.  Jesus then gave a new interpretation to the cup he would share with his disciples.  This interpretation refers not so much to the cup, as to its contents, the wine.  Along with the figure of the red “blood of grapes” (cf. Gen. 49:11), the cup and its contents, symbolize Jesus’ saving Blood, the instrument by which the new covenant was to be struck through his death and resurrection (14:24).  Thus the sacrificial nature of Jesus’ redemptive death stands unequivocally revealed by this symbolic usage.  The cup of blessing concluded the meal, just as the breaking of bread had opened it.[8]  The interpretative sayings of Jesus emerge then as directly related to the passion events.  “Body and Blood” are now the two components of the Christ who gave himself in death, establishing a new covenant between God and his people.

            We know from our studies of the Old Testament that blood played a very important role in the establishing of the covenant between God and Israel.  Blood meant life.  And the blood of the sacrificial bulls spilt half on the altar and the other half on the people, was what sealed the covenant (cf. Exodus 24:8).  It became the life-bond between God and his people.  Jesus is now telling us when he offers us the cup to share in it, that it is his Blood which will seal with us a New Covenant.  By drinking of the cup (14:23b), his community fully shared in the destiny of Jesus.

            For one who has read Mark’s gospel through, we can’t help but recall Jesus’ invitation to James and John to “drink of the cup” of which he would drink.  I mention this again, because we must not forget the full significance for the disciples in sharing and drinking of the cup of Blood.  This activity united the believer with the fate of Jesus and it evoked the anticipation of the coming of the Son of Man.

            But the intimate act of eating and sharing the cup was to be marred by Jesus’ subsequent betrayal to death.  Mark refers within the supper scene to Judas’ betrayal, thus indicating to all of us that betrayal is a possibility for anyone who enters into discipleship.  All of us who sit at the holy meal must ask ourselves, “Am I myself a betrayal of Jesus?”[9]

            Jesus ends the supper scene with a final passion and resurrection prediction, stating that he would not drink again of the fruit of the vine until the banquet of the kingdom (14:25).  And so, Mark ends with a note of hope.  Jesus’ death would be a redemptive act, drawing together broken humanity and making a covenant with all peoples.  His death would not end in defeat, but would result in the coming of the kingdom, where he would once again drink wine triumphantly.


Sharing the Eucharistic Cup: Implications for Discipleship

In his book, David Stanley states that Mark was probably writing for a community either confronted with the prospect of suffering and persecution, or which was actually undergoing some terrible trial.  By his teaching and his own suffering, Jesus seeks to comfort them and to hearten those who were called to share in the Passion of their Lord.[10]  Just as Jesus is rejected and killed, so too will the community that lives in his name undergo hardships.  Mark makes a direction connection between the mission of Jesus and the cross.  The Passion of Jesus becomes not only the story of his fate, but of the community’s own struggle with death.

            We indeed are called to take up the mission of Christ; but no disciple is ready to proclaim the gospel until he has walked the road to Jerusalem and has come to grips with the reality of the cup.  The invitation to drink from the cup is an invitation to assume the full dimensions of authentic discipleship.  When Jesus offers this cup to his disciples at the Last Supper, he was offering them a cup of suffering, which Jesus himself would drink in the Garden.  To become a true disciple means to share in that cup of suffering.

            In the light of these reflections on Mark’s theology of discipleship and its relation to the cup motif, I will now turn to look at our present-day Eucharistic celebration, especially in regard “communion from the cup.”

            When offered this cup in the Eucharist, we are making some very strong commitments.  It should not be taken lightly.  Our “amen” can easily come off like the quick “we can” of James and John when the Lord asked them if they could share his cup?  We say “amen”, often without realizing the deep implications of that “so be it!”  We cannot disassociate the cup from its inner content; namely, from the Blood of Christ.  The Cup of Blood in the Eucharistic context symbolizes the violent death of Jesus, a life “poured out” in loving service.  In offering that cup to us, we are confronted with his sacrifice for each of us and we are invited to enter into and to participate actively in the movement of his self-offering.  It is an open invitation to share with him the cross of his destiny.  We need to ask ourselves if we are willing to take on the sufferings of Christ’s living body today.[11]

            Those of us who preside at the Eucharist and offer the cup, must also ask if we can stand worthily as individuals who can indeed sum up the sufferings of Christ’s living body today and offer them to God?  Are we in enough solidarity with the suffering of the people to act as their representative in this way?  As a Good Shepherd in imitation of Christ, do I know my sheep?  Do I hear the cry of the blood in their lives?  Am I aware of the many cries which rise from our strife-torn world?  Do I hear the cries of desolation of the victims of violence and of abuse, of the victims of war, of those mired in poverty, of the neglected, the outcast and those marginalized by the indifference of governments and communities, the cries of those oppressed under dictatorships, the cries of those excluded due to their color or creed, to their political beliefs, or to their sexual orientation?  Do I hold in the cup of suffering at the Eucharistic banquet their blood of suffering?[12]

            Am I a compassionate pilgrim walking with those who are in need whether material, physical, psychological, or spiritual?  It doesn’t matter where we live or with whom we minister, what matters is that we listen to the cry of the blood in our world and that we gather those cries together in the cup of suffering we offer at the Eucharist. And we bring to the Eucharist our own sufferings and hardships, imposed by the world around us, or as a consequence of our own apostolic commitments.  We gather into the cup those moments of misunderstanding, of condemnation, of rejection which are the consequences of our Gospel stance in the face of injustice, or prejudices, and racism. 

            As we share the Cup in the Eucharist, we are saying that we will continue to share the sufferings of our brothers and sisters.  We say that we accept our call to walk compassionately with all those who suffer and that we are willing to take those sufferings upon ourselves, whatever the cost may be, as Christ took ours’ upon himself.  Our presence among the poor, the emarginated and the suffering, speaks to them of the loving, compassionate God who has not abandoned them, but who walks along with them, sharing their sorrows and opening up a way to a better life.

            To walk with those who suffer is also to be willing to “go the way of Jerusalem”.  It is easy to say, but often very difficult when faced with the realities that such a commitment implies.  For to walk with those who suffer is often to “share their destiny.”  It is often to come into conflict with the powers of darkness which crush their lives and which generate this culture of death.  The forces of life come into open struggle with the forces on the dark side, and this leads us to the cross.  We become caught up in the Paschal Mystery, as that day-to-day struggle between the forces of life and the forces of death.  To walk compassionately often means to shed our blood: the blood of misinterpretation of our mission, of harassment, of threats, marginalization, arrests, torture, perhaps even death.  The martyrdom of hundreds of lay women and men and of religious around the world each year in the name of the Gospel, is a stark witness of this life and death struggle.

            When Jesus invites us to “share his lot” in offering us the “cup of suffering”, our “amen” should not be taken too lightly, lest we drink it to our condemnation (I Cor. 11:27).  It implies our baptism in suffering and death.  It involves facing all the risks and insecurities the disciples must have felt when they were faced with the unpleasant prospect of “going up to Jerusalem”!

            The celebration of the Eucharist is a privileged moment for better understanding and celebrating discipleship.  In it we renew our commitment to “taking up the chalice of salvation and calling upon the name of the Lord” (Psalm 16).
Taking up the chalice, we say our yes to Christ:  A “yes” to our mission of creating bonds in a world in pieces; a “yes” to defending and promoting life in the midst of a culture of death; a “yes” to our will to conquer hatred with love; a “yes” to the difficult pilgrimage which “sharing the cup” calls us to.  United with Christ in the daily offering of our blood to do God’s will in the untiring service of others, we will be “living chalices” filled with hope and made generous in love, pouring out our lives for many, in the struggle against the suffering of the world.  We thus share in the redemptive suffering of Christ.

            The blessing Cup we offer at the Eucharistic Table is not only a Cup of Suffering.  The Cup of Suffering becomes a Cup of Hope, as the blood of the suffering of this world is mingled with and becomes the Blood of Christ.  We know that the powers of darkness have been overcome and that suffering and death do not have the last word.  Life awaits us after suffering and death and a new creation is being born.  In the Eucharist we celebrate Christ’s victory, which is now our victory.  We share a cup meant to be drunk finally in the kingdom of God.  It is both a Cup of suffering and a Cup of hope.  The cup shared is what gives life to the body of Christ today.  It gives us the very breath, the very life of God as we continue Christ’s mission of building up his Reign of fellowship and justice.
                                 
Drinking from the Cup      

To drink from the Chalice as we gather around the Eucharistic Table is an important symbol and a special moment and is to drink from the wellspring of our Precious Blood Spirituality.  As we raise the Cup of Blessing, the Cup of Suffering and the Cup of Hope, we do so in thanksgiving to the Lord who has taken our history up into the Paschal Mystery.  Our history, with its struggles and with its failures, its sorrows and its joys, become Salvation History. As we drink from the Cup our lives are filled with God’s love and we are strengthened for our mission of offering the Cup of Redemption, the Cup of love and of hope to quench the thirst and to satisfy the hunger of our fellow sojourners.

Each time we celebrate the Eucharist we are also called into “baptism.”  Baptism is a word taken from the trade of cloth dying.  To change the color of a garment it was placed in the boiling dye.  To see whether the color had yet “taken,” the cloth had to be lifted out, inspected, then dipped again into the mixture.  The word the Greeks used for repeatedly dipping the cloth into the dye was “baptism.”  Thus in the daily celebration of the Eucharist we are dipped again and again. We are washed in His Blood, until we are “whitened in the Blood of the Lamb!” (Revelations 7:14)

So, each time we gather around the Eucharistic Table we dip our lives once again into the mixture, into the STORY OF CHRIST, and we need to continue to do so repeatedly “until the color takes” in our lives.   We not only gather to HEAR the story, but to BE IMMERSED IN THE STORY.  The community, bonded in Covenant, IS now the on-going LOVE STORY of God.  It is the ritual of our passing over into God.  Thus we celebrate ritually our participation in the Paschal Mystery.
                                                                                                   

Sealed in the Blood: The Cup
On proclaiming our obedience to the Word of God, we too are sprinkled with the blood, the consecrated Blood of Jesus which we receive when partaking of the Cup.  But it is  Blood consumed AFTER we have given our consent to what we have heard proclaimed in the Liturgy of the Word.  This time the covenant will be sealed in the Blood of Jesus Himself.  It is a Blood poured out in sacrifice for us.  It is Blood which symbolizes the entire way of life he lived as well as for what He died.  In a way, the life Jesus lived was a constant “death”, a “generous giving of Himself despite the cost, so that other might have life in abundance. 

As we drink the blood we take it within ourselves.  We drink the story into ourselves.  We drink ourselves into that Story.  And so, just as with the covenant at Mt.Sinai, we thereby commit ourselves to one another in the noble and collaborative task of creating on earth a community that embodies the justice of the gospel.  We place our lives into the context of that Great Story of Christ’s life, of His passion, and of His death and resurrection.

We pass-over into God when we consciously agree to become a community fashioned after the lifestyle and the vision of Jesus Christ, a vision of universal communion forged  in love and compassion.

            The Eucharistic Cup becomes an important sign for us today.  St. John Crysostomus wrote:  "We stain the doors of our Temple (our lives) with the Blood of the Lamb, in such a way that His Blood shines on the lips of the faithful" (Office of Readings, Good Friday).  We need to recover this sign so filled with meaning and commitment for ourselves and for all God’s People. 

Barry Fischer, C.PP.S.

A prayer:                   “HIDDEN TREASURE”
            Make peace with pain.
            Its coming, stealthy or sudden,
            is certain as winter’s sunset.
            A chosen companion on our lifetime journey,
            entrusted with blessed task to do.

            Make friends with pain.
            Embrace its searing scalpel touch
            waiting to mine a cross of gold
            buried deep within and waiting
            your choice of fuller, richer life.

(by Sr. Maria Corona Crumback, I.H.M., in Ashes to Easter, by Robert Fr. Morneau, A Crossword Book, 1996, p. 85-86)




General Reference Works

Donald Senior, The Passion of Jesus in the Gospel of Mark.  Michael Glazier, Inc., Wilmington, Delaware, 1984.

Frank J. Matera, Passion Narratives and Gospel Theologies.  Paulist Press, New York, 1986.

Robert J. Schreiter, C.PP.S., In Water and in Blood: A Spirituality of Solidarity and Hope. Messenger Press, Carthagena, Ohio, 1994.

Joyce Rupp, The Cup of our Life.  Ave Maria Press, Notre Dame, Indiana, 1997.

Henri J.M. Nouwen, Can You Drink the Cup?  Ave Maria Press, Notre Dame, Indiana, 1996.



[1] Werner H. Kelber, The Passion in Mark. Fortress, Philadelphia, 1976, p. 50.
[2]Ibid., pp. 43-45
[3]R. S. Barbour, “Gethsemane in the Tradition of the Passion,” New Testament Series 16. University Press, Cambridge, 1969/1979, pp. 231-251.
[4] David M. Stanley, S.J., Jesus in Gethsemane. Paulist Press, N.Y., 1980, pp. 126-154
[5] L. Goppelt’s article on “poterion” in Theological Dictionary of the New Testament, pp. 148-158.
[6]Werner H. Kelber, The Passion in Mark.Fortress, Philadelphia, 1976, pp. 41-60.
[7] Xavier Léon-Dufour, The Dictionary of the New Testament. Harper and Row, San Francisco, 1980, p. 153.
[8] L. Goppelt, “The Cup at the Lord’s Supper”, Theological Dictionary of the New Testament, pp. 154-155.
[9]Vernon K. Robbin, “Last Meal: Preparation, Betrayal, and Absence (Mark 14:12-25)” in The Passion in Mark, ed. by Werner H. Kelber.  Fortress.Philadelphia, 1976, pp 21-60.
[10] David M. Stanley, S.J., Jesus in Gethsemane. Paulist Press, New York, 1980, pp. 126-154.
[11] Raymond Moloney, S.J., “The Eucharistic Cup”, The Clergy Review, Vol. LXXI, no. 6, June, 1986, pp. 212-215.
[12] Robert J. Schreiter, C.PP.S., In Water and in Blood: A Spirituality of Solidarity and Hope, chapter 6, “The Cup of Suffering and the Cup of Blessing, pp. 56-65.

Reconciliation: Befriending our Wounds- Discovering our mission

Introduction


Today one cannot speak about mission in the Church without speaking about reconciliation.  It is a theme we have heard much about in our Congregation in recent years, thanks to the books of Fr. Bob Schreiter and to the ministry and reflections of the team at the Center of Reconciliation in Chicago.  We have been greatly enriched by these reflections.
            Our call to holiness certainly speaks to us of the need for reconciliation.  Our relationship with God, with ourselves, with others, and with creation is filled with fissures and breakpoints. To experience the forgiveness of God is at the heart of Christian holiness.
In our fractured and bleeding word the blood of Abel cries to heaven in a deafening roar.  In the midst of it all, we hear the voice of the Resurrected Lord, who greets us with a wish: “I leave you my peace, my peace I give you!”  It is the homage of Christ whose Risen Body still bears the signs of the wounds of the crucifixion, as a remembrance of the price he paid to win us peace and reconciliation.
Once again today with St. Gaspar we sit before the cross and contemplate the mystery of our redemption.  I invite you to read the text of Isaiah the prophet:

“See, my servant shall prosper, he shall be raised high and greatly exalted.
Even as many were amazed at him-- so marred was his look beyond that of             man, and his appearance beyond that of mortals--
So shall he startle many nations, because of him kings shall stand speechless;
For those who have not been told shall see, those who have not heard shall ponder it.

            Who would believe what we have heard?
To whom has the arm of the LORD been revealed?
He grew up like a sapling before him, like a shoot from the parched earth;
There was in him no stately bearing to make us look at him,
nor appearance that would attract us to him.
He was spurned and avoided by men, a man of suffering, accustomed to      infirmity, one of those from whom men hide their faces, spurned, and we held    him in no esteem.

Yet it was our infirmities that he bore, our sufferings that he endured,
while we thought of him as stricken, as one smitten by God and afflicted.
But he was pierced for our offenses, crushed for our sins,
Upon him was the chastisement that makes us whole,
by his stripes we were healed.

We had all gone astray like sheep, each following his own way;
But the LORD laid upon him the guilt of us all.
                                                                                                            Isaiah 52:13-53:6

Jesus carried our sins in his own body on the cross so that we could die to sin and live in holiness; by his wounds we have been healed.
                                    1 Peter 2:24

Wounds


All of us know what wounds are.  We can hurt people and we are hurt by others: insults, silence, a physical attack, the betrayal of a friend, etc.  We are born into a sinful world and before you know it we are contaminated by the air we breathe and soon, all too soon, learn the ways of evil, of deceit, of sin.  (The Story of the little girl at the farmhouse in Ñancuan: “Mommy said to tell you she isn’t home!”)  We can grow accustomed to living in shadows and sometimes even feel more comfortable living in the darkness!
All of us bear wounds and scars of many kinds…some go back as far as our early family life.  Wounds inflicted in family often accompany and haunt us for a lifetime.  We might call these wounds received in our families as our “wounds of origin,” or primary wounds.”These wounds have a profound influence on the way we act, on our attitudes, on our whole way of being. 

Primary Wounds

Often, perhaps most of the time we are not even aware that we are wounding the very ones we love the most!  I’d like to play through a few scenarios of possible ways in which we may have been wounded or wound in the family…so as to help us to identify our own wounds and to thus discover where we are in need of healing.

n  The attitude of the mother and father before/during/at childbirth:  excitement, acceptance, indifference, even rejection.  “You were a mistake!”“You were never in our plans!”
n  Where we fit in the lineup of brothers and sisters:
Oldest:  responsibilities, demands
Youngest or only Child:  the darling, the spoiled one, can’t do wrong
Middle:  often overlooked, forgotten
n  Comparisons:  “Why aren’t you like your older sister, or your older brother?”
n  The presence or absence of one or the other parent in the home.   Image of father and image of mother.  Separations, divorce (in USA today, 50% are from one parent families).Feelings of worthlessness and guilt.
n  Climate in the house:  One of peace, dialogue, communion or one of conflict, fights, arguments.  Breed insecurity and fear.
n  Exercise of Authority: “Shut up!  I make the decisions, what do you know?”
n  Alcoholism or chemical dependency in the homes: Adult Children of Alcoholics.
n  Abuse:  Verbal, Physical, or Sexual.
n  Commentaries:  Dad: “Priests never work!” (I have become a “workaholic”)
n  Attitudes toward sex:  was it talked about openly, naturally or hushed up, or limited to “adult conversation”, or “dirty jokes”.  The impression of being something ugly, sinful and evil.  Instead of seeing our sexuality as an expression of our yearning for oneness and for communion!

All this and in many more ways, we could have been wounded and we can still wound those we most love!  All of us carry such wounds in one degree or another.
We need to recognize those wounds…and in all this reclaim them as ours!  God loves us and holds us in the Palm of her hand!
My personal story

I used to ask myself:  Why didn’t I have a normal home life?  Why couldn’t I enjoy summer vacations with my mom and dad like everyone seemed to do?  Why did my parents split up?  These questions used to haunt me, always leaving a sort of bitter taste in my mouth.  I was flooded with sad memories which tormented me.

One day in a retreat, our preacher invited us to re-read our lives and to discover it as Salvation History!(Tell my story…and how I discovered that God was always with me.) 
By discovering God’s loving presence interwoven in the fabric of my sad home life, I could now embrace that story…my story…and discover it as my Story of Salvation:  my Love Story between God and me.   I still remember.  The scars of those wounds are still there.  But I now remember in a different way!   I know that God does not send suffering and yet that suffering is deeply drenched in the presence of God and in the possibility of splendor!
I have put my story into the larger story of Christ’s Passion, Death, and Resurrection!  In other words, the wound I bear is no longer a source of anguish for me.  There is peace and in that connection with Jesus, a new strength, new discoveries. By His wounds, I am healed!

            And so I can now pray: “Lord, for ALL that has been, THANKS; to all that will be, YES!”


Wounds in our Religious Family

As we go through life we also experience other kinds of wounds.  Just as we may have been wounded in our family of origin, we are often wounded in our religious family…and we inflict wounds on others as well.  We might reflect on this today.  Have we been wounded in community?  Have we been hurt by a snide remark?  Has the trust and confidences between brothers in community been betrayed?  Do we sometimes feel unappreciated?  Do we feel rejected or belittled at times because of our positions on politics, theology, pastoral approaches, or sexual orientation?  Pastors who don’t take into account their assistants, treating them as glorified altar boys.  A new person coming in and undoing the pastoral work of years of the previous pastor, etc.        
Recognizing/Identifying our Wounds

The reflections I am making here are not meant to drive us into depression, let alone invite us to lick our wounds, or to wallow in them.  That does no one any good.  Our wounds are an obstacle many times to our happiness and to our capacity to love ourselves and others, if they remain unconscious or denied.  Unacknowledged wounds block the process of our growth, as we can get wrapped up in defense mechanisms, in order to resist the pain that facing those wounds might imply, or the shame those wounds might cause us.  Nevertheless, we can learn to deal with this brokenness so as to break their often destructive hold over us.

Let us turn once again to the Gospel to shed light on our situation at hand.  We turn to the Gospel of John 20:19-29:

“On the evening of that first day of the week, when the doors were locked, where the disciples were, for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood in their midst and said to them, "Peace be with you."  When he had said this, he showed them his hands and his side. The disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord.

(Jesus) said to them again, "Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you."
And when he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, "Receive the holy Spirit.
Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them, and whose sins you retain are retained."

Thomas, called Didymus, one of the Twelve, was not with them when Jesus came.
So the other disciples said to him, "We have seen the Lord." But he said to them,
"Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my finger into the nail marks
and put my hand into his side, I will not believe."

Now a week later his disciples were again inside and Thomas was with them.
Jesus came, although the doors were locked, and stood in their midst and said, "Peace be with you."  Then he said to Thomas, "Put your finger here and see my hands, and bring your hand and put it into my side, and do not be unbelieving, but believe."

Thomas answered and said to him, "My Lord and my God"!
Jesus said to him, "Have you come to believe because you have seen me?
Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed."

This Appearance Story of the Gospel to recognize our wounds, but to see them in a different light.  Jesus appeared to Thomas and showed him his wounds.  They had not disappeared, they had not gone away…but they were transformed!  And He invited Thomas to TOUCH those wounds, to place his hand in them…to recognize them and to believe!
Sometimes it is too late to mend relationships…death has often removed the players from the scenario.  But it is never too late to mend our own hearts and to come to some inner reconciliation.  (Humpty Dumpty).
            What I am saying is this:  old wounds, hurts, heartaches, memories, destructive behavior, do not have to break us apart forever!  We can surrender them…we can let them go!  They can be healed!  We must pit the strength of Christ against the worst that can happen to us!
“By his wounds we are healed!”  The wounds of Jesus remain but are transformed.  And they become the center of light, of healing, and of comfort for Thomas… and for us!  We are also invited to see and to touch and to enter into the wounds of Jesus, wounds which lead us to the very heart of God.
We need to know that we are connected with a God who experiences with us each grief and each wound.  We need to be bonded with God who has had nails in his hands and a spear in his heart!  His wounds link him back to his own death, but point ahead to life and hope as well.
With our hands within that open heart, the wounds we carry need not become infected wounds!!  People are usually afraid to touch wounds, either for fear of hurting the wounded person or for fear of contagion.  Jesus, however, invites others to touch his wounds.  His wounds have become redemptive.  They heal!Our small sufferings are connected to the great story of God’s suffering in Jesus Christ, between our little life and the great life of God with us.  Jesus lifts our pain and connects it with the pain of all humanity, a pain he took upon himself and transformed.
            Christ’s blood stands as an everlasting sign that our pain and suffering will never be in vain.  Our life story is part of God’s ongoing redemptive work in the world.  It is our life in the Paschal Mystery!
There is no Resurrection without Calvary.  There wasn’t for Christ and there isn’t for those who follow in His footsteps!  There is both pain and peace in the fellowship of pilgrims who have followed Christ to his Passion. I am sure that you can show your scars and battle wounds as well.  The more one enters into the journey of compassion and solidarity, the more we enter into the vulnerability of Jesus, who opened His arms on the Cross, exposing his heart to the soldier’s lance.
As we grew up and as we have lived life in community and in mission it all hasn’t been easy!  We have each had your share of pain, of misunderstanding, of frustration, of illness, of failure, and of betrayal.  To live as Christ lived and to love as Christ loved, remains quite a challenge for all of us.  To live a life of compassionate pilgrimage is to journey into the wounded lives of others, welcoming them into our life, taking upon our shoulders their crosses and suffering, entering into their passion so as to be a sign of God’s love for them.

Befriending our Wounds/Shadows

We better make friends with our wounds, or as some authors would call it, “our shadows.”  Because our Lord tells us in Matthew’s Gospel that the weeds and the wheat will grow up together and won’t be completely weeded out/separated until harvest time!  (cf.Matthew 13:24-30)
            So we need to come to terms with our wounds and our shadow side, whether they be wounds inflicted for whatever reason, whether in family, in society, or even in religious community.  Because if we don’t own up to our wounds and accept them deep down, we will end up projecting them onto someone else and they will influence negatively the way we relate to one another.  If we love the wound, if we learn to embrace it and forgive it, then it will forgive us.  If we hate it and attack it and live in complete denial, it will end up attacking us indirectly and come back and get us through the back door.
“A long, long time ago, there were two holy men traveling together through the countryside.  They came upon a beautiful young woman sitting and sobbing by the side of a stream.  Concerned, one of the monks asked her what was wrong. “I need to cross the river but I can’t swim and I am afraid of drowning,” she explained.  Without hesitation, the monk picked up the woman, carrying her to the other side of the stream, where he gently put her down.  She thanked him profusely.
“As the monks walked away, the second monk turned to the first, demanding, “How could you do such a thing?  We have taken vows of poverty and chastity.  It is forbidden even to talk to a woman, let alone touch one.” 
“The first monk listened and succinctly replied, “When I came to the other side of the river, I put her down.  Why are you still carrying her?
That story raises this question for us today: What are you carrying around that you should have put down and left behind long ago?  An incredible number of people go through their entire lives carrying feelings of regret, guilt, anger, disappointment, rage, and even hate.  Unwittingly they practice an emotional masochism that continues to haunt and hurt them.  By not letting go, they remain trapped inside prisons of their own construction.  Today, resolve to be like the monk who put the beautiful woman down and moved on with his life.  Don’t carry your emotional baggage any longer.  Let it go!
The Scriptures remind us that while on our life’s journey, we are radically broken, even till the end!   Sometimes our faults and shortcomings embitter us.  We become frustrated that in spite of all our best efforts at improvement we fail again and again.  And we can get many negative feelings about ourselves.  In my younger years I was a very "explosive" character.  I would let things simmer, get under my skin, all the while smiling, but woe to anyone near me the day the volcano exploded!  As was the case with the eruption of Vesuvius, not many people would survive in the flow of my wrath!  After these "eruptions of rage" during which the valley was left scattered with corpses, I would feel very bad and down.  My own self-image would plummet.  Finally one day I remembered the words of St. Gaspar, who many times would recommend to his Missionaries to "rest in the open heart of the Crucified" and to go contemplate "the great Book of the Cross" and to discover there the wisdom of God.  I did that.  For many minutes I would sit there with head bowed, ashamed, angry at myself and feeling rejected by God for my temper tantrum and accompanying lack of charity toward my brothers and sisters.  And then I would contemplate in silence the Crucified one and recall the image of the suffering servant:  "It was our infirmities that he bore, our sufferings that he endured, … he was pierced for our offenses, crushed for our sins; upon him was the chastisement that makes us whole, by his stripes we were healed" (Isaiah 53, 4-5).  As I meditated and rested in the opened side of the Crucified One, I left the Precious Blood which He shed heal my wounds.  I found solace and peace and renewed strength to keep on struggling to improve.  Over the years, I have returned many times to "the foot of the Cross"!My frustration pencil!
If we don’t embrace those wounds and place them into the wounds of the Redeemer, then we will be dominated by the great demons of fear, guilt, and anger.  These negative forces dominate the lives of those who haven’t face their shadow!  The shadow, however, is only dangerous to the degree that we are out of touch with it.  We need to make friends with the shadow and bring it out of the darkness and into the light of the Resurrected Christ!

The Wound becomes our Gift! (=Sacred Wounds)

When I was Rector of our St. Gaspar’s School in Santiago de Chile, we elaborated an Educational Project which had the student in the center of our concern.  It emphasized the need to reach out and to help those students who were having difficulties either in their studies or in disciplinary areas.  This concern became in a sense the leit motif of my period as rector of the school.  It began a real revolution and cost me much blood, sweat, and tears as we sought to put the downtrodden, the difficult student, the slow learner, and the person of the student in the center of our activity.  One day a good friend and collaborator of mine, Ivan, asked me, “Pepe, why is this sucha passion in you?”  I struggled to answer.  I had never thought of it that way before.  I gave some intellectual responses…but he insisted…but “Why?  There has to be some deeper reason.”  And after some soul searching and scrutinizing my memories, it suddenly became very clear!  In a moment of my childhood, when I was struggling with the separation of my parents and the abandonment of my Mother, one of my school teachers, a religious Sister, stood by me…teaching me recipes to cook for Dad, checking in on me from time to time at home.  She was more than a teacher to me…She was a friend!  That made a deep and lasting impression on me and carved into my flesh a passion for those who are struggling with similar situations!
We share in the Passion and peace of Christ whenever we break bread together and share the cup.  Christ shows us his hands and his side and in that simple act shows reminds us of mission in the world.  It is to bring life to the world through the mystery of self-giving. Our mission in the world as followers of Christ, is to be so fully alive that others are enlivened by us. 
It is important to experience God’s unconditional love for us.  We need to take it in, to let His love free us.  Once I have kissed my woundedness and have been healed by God’s love, I can then reach out to others to be agent’s of God’s love: in our woundedness, we discover MISSION.
            Or in the terminology I have been using during these days: “In the cry of our blood (=our woundedness, our pain) we discover the call of the Blood, that is, our call to mission!
            In this light we can better understand that phrase of St. Paul in second letter to the Corinthians:  “Therefore that I might not become too elated, a thorn in the flesh was given to me, an angel of Satan, to beat me, to keep me from being too elated.  Three times I begged the Lord about this, that it might leave me but he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness." I will rather boast most gladly of my weaknesses, in order that the power of Christ may dwell with me.  Therefore, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and constraints, for the sake of Christ; for when I am weak, then I am strong.” (12:7-10)
            Bishop ChristophMunzihirva, SJ of the Diocese of Bukaviuin, East Zaire was shot and killed by Rwandan soldiers in October of 2001, once said: “There are things that can be seen only with eyes that have cried.” This reminds me of a text from the Letter to the Hebrews 2:14-18: “It is precisely because one has been submitted to trial and because one has personally suffered, that he is capable of coming to the aid of those who are subjected to trial.”
            If we ourselves have experienced in our own lives the compassion of Christ: his forgiveness of our sins, his patience with us in our weakness and cowardice; if he has become our fellow traveler, our co-worker, our friend and our brother, then we will want to act like Christ towards those who suffer and towards other sinners.
            There are many people who are rejected, judged, condemned, who live in fear of being discovered, accused.  They often hide behind masks because they are afraid to let their true selves be discovered, because they have believed the lies which make them doubt their worth and dignity and also God’s love for them.
            The one who has embraced his/her woundedness and has accepted God’s gift of love, has been set free and is sent to be “wounded sojourners” to continue God’s work of redemption.  We are called to become “compassionate pilgrims.”  Compassion (=to suffer with) comes from deep within ourselves, from deep within own our woundedness, where we have encountered God’s love.  The wounded one, who has been healed, now becomes “a wounded healer.”  What we have received freely, we freely and joyfully share with others!
Robert D. Lupton, in Theirs Is the Kingdom, writes:  “I have seen God take the broken, deformed things of this world, bless them with new life and sanctify them for his special purpose.  From a broken tree, God provides shade in the summer.  From a deeply scarred youth, he forms a person of unusual compassion and understanding, a model of hope to the disheartened of the inner city.  From the twisted personality of a counselor, he shapes a healer of emotional pain and uses a rebellious nature for creative purposes.
“I am reassured to know that the straightness of my grain is not a precondition of usefulness to God.  And I am humbled to see that out of the twistedness of my wounds, he designs for me a special place of service.” (p. 13)


We pray:

Lord Jesus, give us the grace to be true to our vocation of reconciliation.  Only through you can we overcome our fears in dealing with the brokenness of our lives and that of others.  Send your Spirit into our hearts, transforming them by your love, so that we may join you in being healers of a broken world. (Robert Morneau, Reconciliation, p.67)