The Meaning of the Joyful Mystery, and Rebirth – from Shortcomings

(Mt 13:24–43)

 

    The metaphor that follows the opening parable seeks to emphasise that the presence of ‘evil’ in the world is not to be attributed to a lack of vitality in the Seed, nor to the divine Work.

 

Jesus overturns the hasty cliché of apostolic morality:

‘Do you want us to go and gather them up? But He declares: No, for in gathering up the weeds you might uproot the wheat with them. Let both grow together until the harvest’ (vv. 28–30).

 

In his commentary on the Tao Te Ching xxxvi, Master Wang Pi writes: ‘By conforming to the nature of creatures, the best way to avoid future difficulties is to induce them to run spontaneously to their ruin, without subjecting them to punishment’.

Virtues are intertwined with errors, weaknesses and inconsistencies, but from the earliest times in the communities some believers found it difficult to live alongside the different mindsets of their brothers and sisters in Faith – a situation which nevertheless allowed life to flourish.

And it was found that time was the best remedy for the weeds to wither away of their own accord: in the long run, they did not even prove to be weeds; indeed, quite the opposite was often the case.

The parable of the wheat and the tares is meant to help us avoid falling into exclusivism – not for ideological reasons, but for vital ones.

The rough hands of some disciples would uproot the whole tangle of roots intertwined with the earth and with one another.

Premature sorting would ruin everything good in the present, and the future itself.

 

The observance of the laws of purity had ensured the separation of Judaism from other cultures.

Thus, some converts to Christ the Messiah did not wish to renounce their identifying marks.

Others, such as Paul, taught that impurity should indeed be pursued, but the sinner must be tolerated.

The internal debate raised awareness: in real life, a mixture of things persists – some in harmony with, and [at least at first glance] contrary to, the Word of God.

On the surface, there is a sort of ambitious enemy slumbering within each of us and even within the churches, who at times may seem intent on making us lose sight of the very raison d’être of faith.

Faced with the ambiguity of good and evil – or rather, of ideas about good and evil – some rush to resolve the matter immediately.

They claim to be able to eradicate impropriety once and for all on the basis of opinions, doctrinal and moral preconceptions – which, however, do not look at people and events [except in the usual (rigid) way] .

The Lord’s teaching is a call.

It is not immediately apparent to grasp the multifaceted significance of these preparatory energies, which, from their magma and discord, will give rise to the unexpected harmonies of God’s unforeseeable future.

New opportunities also spring from personal or institutional mediocrity. Indeed, a paradoxical condition of growth and prosperity for the Church, ‘perfect’ insofar as it recognises itself on the Path of conversion to Christ: ‘semper conformanda’.

 

The uniformity of fundamentalists or purists would desire an external, immediate and decisive justice (in eloquent forms), but only God is able to fathom the depths of events.

Some cling to the certainties of convention, but such patterns immediately stifle the imbalances of chaos that might have borne fruit precisely through those providential novelties: novelties that supplant the stale, reworking and adapting the unexpected [thus resolving the real problems and inspiring dreams of quite different aims – another destiny].

To avoid stifling life in the illusion of ‘non-negotiable’ behaviours and procedures [mostly cultural and religious certainties that are later abandoned], communities must not shut themselves away behind suffocating barriers.

They would be unbearable: their mission is to learn dialogue with differences and to coexist with disparate oppositions, so that life may be enriched through diverse relationships and the concrete exchange of personal gifts, in varied and even discordant contexts.

Such is the added value that opens up the New Life, whilst the myth of infallibility remains confined to sects.

Indeed, it is not uncommon for precisely that side of ourselves which we do not want, which we reject, which we would like to exclude or correct – and which is misjudged by others – to have already revealed itself, or to reveal itself over time, as the best part of us, both from the point of view of the exceptional fulfilment of the personality and of the missionary Call by Name.

 

Every believer is both ‘ally’ and unfaithful at the same time, but in this friction lie the new sparks [including those of fruitful disappointment] and our fulfilment – traversing the paradoxes of fallibility. As well as uncharted cultural paths, even economic, political and social ones.

The Tao (LVIII) says: ‘When the government meddles in everything, the people are fragmented [!]. Fortune arises from misfortune, misfortune hides within fortune. Who knows its height? He who does not correct. Correction turns into falsehood, good turns into a harbinger of misfortune, and every day the people’s bewilderment grows deeper and more enduring. For this reason, the Holy One is square but does not cut, is uncorrupted but does not wound, is upright but does not flaunt, is luminous but does not dazzle’.

 

As in the Church, those who face life in the Spirit and wish for their journey to flourish must learn to respect hardships and allow contradictions to coexist within themselves.

To embrace the opposing sides and their own diverse images – which dwell within. And without comment, in a more unhurried manner, with clear perception.

Rejecting, labelling and repressing what we imagine to be ‘flaws’... precludes us from the other horizon – the one that becomes an Ally.

It is the unexpected perspective, which recovers and puts things right; generating knowledge, a full life and rich, unpredictable, awe-inspiring relationships.

This is where Happiness springs forth – when it is not disturbed at the source.

Anxieties, prejudices, reproaches, conventional opinions, expectations, unnatural resolutions, fears, false attitudes of the conformist self (and so on) do not foster growth.

External preconceptions confine and torment us in fideistic, historical, moralistic or performance-based digressions; ultimately confining each of us to a sense of inferiority compared to the models.

Judgements, paradigms, clichéd epithets, intellectual concepts and attitudes all lock us into neuroses, conflicts, anxieties and vicious circles that distort the possibilities of personal discovery – severing the sense of Mystery and the gaze from Elsewhere.

The world of God outside and within us does not thrive on comparisons and judgements of guilt, which hold us back – but (dwelling on ‘shortcomings’) on a Goal that does not wait.

Excessive energy, an indomitable tendency, which surpasses all devout one-sidedness.

 

 

To internalise and live the message:

 

Do you dwell on ‘shortcomings’, or look Elsewhere?

 

 

The Church is an imperceptible Beginning, not an extraordinary end

(Mt 13:31–35)

 

    Jesus helps people to discover the things of God and of man in everyday life.

The Master teaches that the extraordinary nature of the eternal world is hidden in ordinary things: life itself is a transparency of the Mystery.

He reveals the Kingdom that is becoming present, describing precisely the essential characteristics of the community of disciples – and using here the simple comparisons of the ‘mustard seed’ and the ‘yeast’.

That is to say: the authentic Church is within everyone’s reach, everywhere – yet small; unobtrusive, and yet intimately dynamic.

Within it we experience a contrast between beginnings and ends: we experience the Kingdom ‘within’ each person who welcomes the character of a humble Word-event, yet one that activates transformative and hospitable capacities.

 

The first point of comparison linked to people’s lives [the seed] refers to the story of a very small grain: a concrete, everyday occurrence that goes largely unnoticed.

Around the Sea of Galilee, mustard bushes can reach a maximum height of 3 metres, no more.

This is not the growth of majestic cedars of Lebanon – rather, an ordinary little tree in a home garden (v.32), yet capable of offering a little refreshment to the birds that take refuge there.

It points to a Presence that makes little fuss: entirely ordinary, mingled amongst aubergines, courgettes and cucumbers…

Nothing grand, yet hospitable to those suffering the intense heat of those places.

In short, the communities the Lord dreams of will have nothing magnificent or outwardly impressive, yet they will be able to offer shelter and rest.

 

The strength of the ‘mustard seed’ is intimate, yet tenacious: it will grow – even if only a little.

In other words, the authentic Church need not resemble a majestic ocean liner.

Perhaps it will be more like a little boat: nothing special – yet it will be able to inspire hope for life.

It will do so through the discreet witness of loving evangelisers, who continue to proclaim and work, radiating light and captivating people.

Anyone approaching the thresholds of the churches – the reference is to those who are distant and non-believers – must feel at ease, as if at home.

Even the ‘wanderers’ will have every right to take their place there and build their nest [in that very Common Home], even if they then decide to take flight again as soon as they have made use of it.

 

The next comparison – that of ‘leaven’ (v. 33) – emphasises care for the life goals of other brothers and sisters, in relation to the Community of believers.

In this way, it is called to be a sign of the Father’s care for all his children.

Yeast is not useful in itself, but to the dough.

In the same way, the Church must not serve itself; it must not be concerned with its own celebration or development (material, proselytising, and so on).

Every Fraternity in Christ is a function solely of people’s lives, wherever and however they find themselves – just as they are.

 

 

To internalise and live out the message:

 

Which seed did you overlook because of its smallness, and which later proved essential for your growth and the needs of others too?

 

 

(Parables: Narratives for transformation)

 

The mystery of shared blindness. Lost? Ready for transformation

 

(Mt 13:34-35)

 

    St Paul expresses the meaning of the ‘mystery of blindness’ that confronts him on his journey with the famous phrase ‘thorn in the side’: wherever he went, enemies were already waiting; and unexpected disagreements.

So it is for us too: calamitous events, catastrophes, emergencies, the disintegration of old, reassuring certainties – all external and murky; until recently regarded as permanent.

Perhaps, in the course of our lives, we have already realised that misunderstandings have been the best ways to reawaken us and introduce the energies of renewed Life.

These are the resources or situations we might never have imagined as allies of our own and others’ fulfilment.

Erich Fromm says:

‘To live means to be born at every moment. Death occurs when one ceases to be born. Birth is therefore not an act; it is an uninterrupted process. The purpose of life is to be born fully, but the tragedy is that most of us die before we are truly born’ .

Indeed, amidst the turmoil or absurd disagreements [that compel us to regenerate], the most neglected inner virtues sometimes emerge.

New energies – seeking space – and external forces. Both malleable; unusual, unimaginable, unorthodox.

But they find the solutions, the true way out of our problems; the path to a future that is not merely a reorganisation of the previous situation, or of how we imagined ‘things ought to have been and done’.

With one cycle concluded, we begin a new phase; perhaps with greater integrity and candour – more luminous and natural, humanising, close to the ‘divine’.

 

Authentic and engaging contact with our deepest states of being is keenly generated precisely by these detachments.

They lead us into a dynamic dialogue with the eternal reserves of transmuting forces that dwell within us, and belong to us all the more.

A primordial experience that goes straight to the heart.

Within us, this path ‘draws out’ the creative, fluid, unprecedented option.

In this way, the Lord conveys and opens up his proposal by means of ‘images’.

An arrow of Mystery that goes beyond the fragments of consciousness, culture, procedures, and the commonplace.

Towards a knowledge of oneself and the world that transcends that of history and current events; towards an active awareness of other realities.

Until the very turmoil and chaos guide the soul and compel it towards a new beginning, a different perspective (entirely shifted), an unprecedented understanding of ourselves and the world.

Well then, the transformation of the universe cannot be the result of intellectual or authoritarian teaching; rather, of a narrative exploration – one that does not distance people from themselves.

And Jesus knows this.

 

 

Completeness, duality:

 

From the fascinating proposal of Faith to the toil of religious (and moralistic) withdrawal

(Mt 13:36–43)

 

The parable of the Sower as historically narrated by Jesus (vv. 3–8) and that of the weeds (vv. 24–30) denote the total positivity of his Message.

The Lord proclaimed a new world; above all, a different Heaven, tolerant and benevolent.

The principle of our life as the saved is not what we do for God, but rather what He (Generous and Patient) creates for us.

Just like a condescending and long-suffering Parent, who ceaselessly offers new opportunities for life.

The Master intended to shift the criterion of a pious life: from personal effort to allowing oneself to be saved, yielding one’s own perspective.

Redemption has its roots in His providential initiative, in His gratuitous generosity, in His serene calm.

All conditions that allow each person a process of interactions, assimilations and reworkings: a long period of growth.

But the reflection that followed immediately – just a few decades after the Lord’s death – began to be influenced by the dominant cultural cliché surrounding it, and unfortunately to undermine both its character and its transparency.

The Son proclaimed only the Father’s long-suffering: Subject, Reason and Driving Force of our capacity to undertake every path of blossoming.

In subsequent reflection, the original parables become allegories, overflowing with symbols of a defined moralistic meaning – all in all, banal.

In this way, we find them tinged with impersonal considerations regarding the quality of the soil, or even of the Seed!

The latter – no longer identified with His Word, but rather with a certain zealous type of disciple [of little substance or purpose: those who would always feel surrounded by adversaries].

This ill-fated shift bears witness to the difficulty in understanding the astonishing call of the Son of God, right from the earliest communities.

The Lord intended to suggest to all a path of Faith, precisely to supplant the anxiety-inducing yoke of the religious model – which, conversely, persisted as an attractive archetype of the criteria for discernment.

A heavy yoke, albeit a common one, which did not spring from Love; precisely because it presupposed meanness, inadequacy, and shame everywhere – even in spiritual life [stunted, perpetually precarious, stingy, always insufficient].

We are familiar with such situations.

Instead, even verses 18–23 contain Good News rather than a judgement: in our field both good grain and weeds spring up spontaneously, but this is not a curse in itself; on the contrary (v. 23c).

It must nevertheless be admitted that the metaphor in verses 37–43 transforms the original parable (verses 24–30) into a moral allegory.

 

The protagonist of the passage [from v.18 and v.36] is no longer God and his generous act, who spares no expense in scattering his seed, but rather the type of soil – or here the new ‘good seed’: the apostle himself – who would become the true ‘subject’ of the spiritual journey.

In this way, one enters the minefield of devotions: it seems that it is the woman and the man—those who actually receive the Word—who must focus on themselves and identify their own faults.

Furthermore – having finally gained awareness, clear understanding, natural ability and even familiarity – they must strive to ‘improve’ according to models, on pain of exclusion from the very ranks of the ‘best’.

[All this leads ordinary people to a depersonalisation of the very nature of the Call, and to a mad expenditure of energy].

The ethical idea – in fact – erases trust. It does not value the driving dynamism of ordinary existence. It always finds before it imperfections and tangles to be unravelled.

It is these, and the thoughts, that obstruct the path. Conversely, to fulfil and complete oneself, such burdens should be placed in the background, cast behind; flown over as one moves forward.

The danger of such an approach is that it will end up piling distinction upon distinction, obsessing people with the idea of an invincible sin. And it will affect the fundamental traits of the personalities of those who take the legalistic path seriously.

Such a disembodied ethic cages the most sensitive – who, unfortunately, gradually exchange their self-awareness for the guilt-tripping of [artificial] myths of perfection.

 

Except for the indifferent and the opportunists, ‘religion’ taken at face value has always been synonymous with imprisonment.

Indeed, even today it paradoxically makes the judgement that we are still ‘bad seeds’ the central focus of our journey! The opinion of others and the external world.

In addition, there is the torment of still feeling under the shadow of a perpetual ‘sin’: transgression and guilt that the fundamental choice for God was intended to exorcise.

Indeed, superficial judgement is unaware of the diverse and perfectly normal energies of the human being – all malleable and potentially preparatory, to be perceived in their entirety, embraced, and invested in.

Every prejudice, even a sacred one, in reality overlooks the multifaceted nature of the person, and ultimately transforms into that deadly principle of self and others, which, in its proclamations, would never wish to be.

Because of extrinsic or hidden efforts, every external paradigm ends up losing sight of the Way of God’s Newness, its relevance, and the true Vocation – perhaps mistaking them for a burden.

 

The metaphor (vv. 37–43) is precisely the result of the interpretation of early assemblies still under the influence of the ancient ideal of ‘sterilisation’ and external, formal, apparent ‘coherence’ – ethical rather than relational.

As already mentioned above, even verses 18–23 contain Good News rather than a judgement: in our field, both good grain and weeds spring up spontaneously, but this is not a curse in itself; on the contrary (v. 23c).

It must nevertheless be admitted that the metaphor in verses 37–43 transforms the original parable (verses 24–30) into a moral allegory.

Through symbolic elements, the various figurative expressions take up Jesus’ original narrative, seeking to interpret it according to the common codes of traditional rabbinic preaching.

As with the teachers of Israel, here too the immediate aim is to shake the listeners, in order to emphasise the personal, communal and spiritual importance of decisive choices – in the present day.

Yet in this passage we get the impression that the editors have been carried away by the banal idea of immediate and decisive justice.

Yet haste is always unwelcome in the things of God... [apart from the fact that time is often the remedy that causes useless branches, or many parasitic elements, to wither away of their own accord].

In the House (v.36), that is, in the Church, a debate arises first and foremost over the explanation of why Jesus does not impose a preventive pruning of the wheat field.

In this way, unfortunately opening the door to that ‘purism’ which the Son of God abhorred as harmful.

This, although the evangelist’s attempt to stem defections was understandable – carefully sifting through every attempt to adapt to cultural frameworks and situations.

But by yielding to considerations of effectiveness and context, the central point of the original narrative of the Son of Man – and He Himself – is as it were broken down into schematic elements.

A case study perhaps easier to digest, yet entirely independent of the meaning of the main narrative (vv.18-23).

Finally, with the risk of identifying the Will of God with that of a Church of the elect and the blameless. A community almost situated upstream of any process of growth.

 

In the face of uncertainty, specific clarifications are attempted here – according to which, however, the passage, the result of redaction, debate and subsequent reflection, risks overturning the very meaning of Jesus’ parable.

Indeed, among his people of brothers and in society, the Master did not intend to dismiss out of hand the fruitful meaning of the ineffable and mysterious dynamics of ‘intermingling’: realities of this world in their own right.

Such was the essential, universalist Proclamation of the young Rabbi; in defiance of ancient purist clichés, or spineless fads.

Legalistic religiosity was selective, elitist, conformist; intent on maintaining social hierarchies.

In this way, it formed a tightly woven cultural cloak, and assessed in an abstract, pre-emptive manner what should be considered good or evil for all.

Yet the idea of a cold perfection [devoid of life] did not allow the preparatory energies of concrete existence to shape the future and generate the very Newness of the Spirit.

Yet (as the passage from Matthew bears witness) immediately after Christ’s death, the conviction of purity and the mindset of distinctions began to creep in once more and take hold.

This was because, externally, the small communities had to confront (head-on) social hierarchies, the religious landscape, moralistic conformism, and the prevailing paradigms of mainstream culture.

In some cases, this situation led to a lack of humanity.

Historically speaking – in the second and third generations of believers, the acceptance of Jesus as Lord of one’s life was perhaps in danger of becoming more binding and identity-defining than a driving force for personal uniqueness – a catalyst for Freedom.

 

Christ’s encounter with the believer changes everything in their life, certainly – but not on the basis of a pre-established hierarchy of values, procedures and pre-written judgements.

In reality, one becomes attentive to perceiving the eccentricity of one’s brothers and sisters because one has experienced the Father’s blessing embrace upon one’s own ‘flaws’.

Not out of a sense of emotional paternalism, but because it is not uncommon for the resources that resolve real problems and bring about God’s Redemption to spring from the whirlwind of precious contradictions and inner needs we harbour within.

It is precisely these that make us less one-sided, more flexible and complete. Exceptional, alive; capable of trusting in the inner world rather than the outer one.

And thus capable of transformation.

On the other hand, exclusivism – where established morality takes the lion’s share, hand in hand with appearances – has never allowed living Faith to flourish, nor the world.

We see it: to help the world grow and be reborn from the global crisis, every individual [including institutions] is called upon to reinvent themselves outside any pre-established and recognised framework.

And today, perhaps precisely starting from what, in customary thinking, was considered nothing more than a flaw, or an annoying dissonance; incompleteness, limitation… and so on.

Suddenly and quite clearly, imbalances and fluctuations make a difference even in terms of quality.

They become opportunities not to be missed: an extra gear; a wellspring of power, a drive to activate the unprecedented, and to open up.

Herein lies a fundamental difference between common religiosity and the life of Faith.

The nature of Duality makes us healthier and more perfect – and God is not prejudiced.

Indeed, in the Father’s eyes, it is precisely these unrepeatable uncertainties (not those dictated by protocol) that make each of his children special and unique.

 

In short, we grow, we are enriched and we fulfil our personal vocation only by bringing boundaries into play, integrating them and transforming them – not by denying them.