A while ago, I mentioned a new book about Jesus himself stating he is divine. Today’s readings give us an explicit example. The prophet Isaiah states that when God comes, amongst other things, the ears of the deaf will be unblocked and the tongues of the dumb will sing. Jesus in our gospel is deliberately fulfilling this prophecy, and so deliberately telling all that he is God and the kingdom of God has arrived.
Pope Benedict XVI saw in this gospel a beautiful encapsulation of the passage of conversion. The fact that it is set in pagan territory means the man is likely an unbeliever. This unbelief means he does not know God: he doesn’t know God’s word. He therefore is unable to communicate with God: he cannot hear; he cannot speak.
However, he is brought to his encounter with Christ through the faith of his friends. But the moment of encounter is private: Jesus takes him away from the crowd. God speaks to the heart of the person in the moment of conversion. And this encounter touches the whole person. As we have noted over the last few weeks, meeting God is incredibly intimate. God meets us exactly where we hurt. He comes as saviour: turns our weakness into a doorway to glory. And Jesus embraces the whole of the man, draws him into the relationship that Jesus has with the Father. And finally Jesus groans: Jesus is taking on the man’s suffering himself. He enters into the darkness. Our God is a God of compassion, suffering with us.
I say finally, but what I actually want to look at today is the last bit of the story. The bit where Jesus tells the man not to tell anyone. Something which the man ignores. I think this too is a pointer to our conversion. It is also something that we probably know in other parts of our life, but perhaps we forget to apply it to the spiritual. That is: the need to protect the flickering flame of faith. To guard the moment of conversion, allow it to take root, give it a proper time and space before we expose it to the world. This perhaps is the place of patience, or at least an aspect of it, in the spiritual life.
Perhaps Jesus advises the man to keep quiet because the spiritual life is a fragile thing at the beginning. Like any real progress in any area of life, what is needed after the breakthrough is consolidation. Just because I understand something now doesn’t mean I can explain it tomorrow. Just because I got inspiration today doesn’t mean it will be there tomorrow. Just because exercise or prayer was easy and fun today doesn’t mean it will be so tomorrow. Like anything, I must put in the time to make it a habit before any real lasting progress is made.
I see this a lot when it comes to spiritual testimony. Someone experiences a real conversion, and wants to share it. The conversion story is exciting so people want to hear. The person then gets invited to share it more and more. The story then gets familiar both to the audience and to the person. A separation occurs – someone’s life gets reduced to entertainment, even to themselves. The person gets drained, and everyone tires of the tale, and any spiritual effect wears off. Why does this happen?
I think it happens because the pattern of the person’s conversion gets reversed. Conversion is always a turning away from myself and a turning towards God and my neighbour. The problem with talking about my conversion is that it turns the focus back on me. Instead of focussing on prayer and on my neighbour, I focus increasingly on myself. Instead of those around me focussing on prayer and on their neighbours, they get caught up in me. And so, it distracts from the real work of conversion. My life and this life of my audience then tend to undermine the pattern of the story, robbing it of vitality.
Personal testimony is obviously very important in evangelisation. It is very important in the New Testament. We need to hear from people like us to be able to imagine such things. However, we should heed Jesus’s advice and realise how fragile such moments are. It is more important to become a lasting witness through a holy life than to talk a lot about one moment.
Again, I don’t mean this as a discouragement. I think we should heed Jesus’s warning on such moments. We should understand the depth of the gift, but also understand that perhaps the gift needs longer than we expect to be received. Again, I don’t mean that we should become timid. But perhaps the initial fire should be precisely prayer and service. The love of God taking root in a life, so that the conversion can take root. The seed planted needs time to grow.
Perhaps we might pray not only that we know that pattern of conversion in our lives, but also that we take seriously just our fragile it can be, and how precious is such a gift. May we have the wisdom to know when to consolidate and when to step out.
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