Perhaps there's a deep grief inside us that we don't want to be "here" anymore. We wonder where our enthusiasm has gone. In fact we wish we were divine instead of human! Always committed, buoyed up by enthusiastic love. There must be something wrong with us that we feel this way. What can we do about it? Should we be remaining faithful?
Perhaps we're faced with two pathways in our life, and are paralyzed by the question: "What do I really want?" It can be good to see a counselor, who will ask us 1) What is the wisest thing to do here? 2) What would I most like to do here? and 3) What do I have to do here? We have to carefully weigh the first two. But often life-giving decisions hinge on how honestly we answer the last question: What do I HAVE to do here? What is my Truest Self, my self united with God, telling me that I need to do in order to have life?
We can remember St. Peter, totally confused by Jesus, Who has just said "unless you eat the flesh of the son of man and drink his blood, you can have no life in you." Jesus' audience is shocked; many walk away, deciding to no longer follow him because his words are intolerable. Jesus turns to his twelve closest disciples and asks them " Do you also want to leave?"
Peter responds for all of them:
"Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life."
Fr. Ronald Rolheiser ( in his book "Sacred Fire") interprets Peter's situation like this:
"Peter has just heard Jesus say something that he cannot understand, and what he does understand he cannot accept. Jesus' words do not sound like life; they sound like death. ....Peter is asked: 'Do you want to walk away like the others?'
"....This is his answer to Jesus: 'Yes, I would like to walk away! Except that I know better! What I have just heard, I don't get - and what I get, I don't like! Except I know, deep down, that I am better off not getting it with you than getting it some other place.'"
One man, faced with Peter's words, quipped to Fr. Rolheiser "That sounds like my marriage!" When others laughed, he continued "That's exactly the point: anyone who has ever been in a commitment for a long time, be it a marriage, in a religious vocation, or some service to the community knows that there are days and seasons when your commitment looks like death and you'd like to walk away....except, except, you are smart enough to know that, long range, this commitment is bringing you life!"
God's Presence in us, deeper than out thoughts, our feelings, our fragile sense of commitment, sometimes compels us to keep going - because what we are doing is the path to life - to our growth as faithful disciples. Faith is deeper than what we think or what we feel; faith is what we choose to do, to continue to do, when we know we have to because God is asking it of us, God Who knows us inside and out.
When we know we have to do something in order to honor our own integrity and what God asks of us, - what can sustain us? Keep us going? When we feel so fragile, and wish we were divine instead of human?
This story, recounted by Hugh Brady in his book "A Spirituality of Being Human," (New Idea Press: A Buffalo Heritage Imprint) can be a signpost for us:
"A priest I know enjoys telling a story about his three year old niece's greeting when he arrived for the Christmas holidays. 'I want to show you something,' the little girl exclaimed as she grabbed his hand. 'What is it?' he asked. She pointed to the exquisite porcelain figure of Jesus in the manger. 'Look! It's breakable!'"
Hugh Brady asks the question "Is Jesus 'breakable?' Could Jesus, the Incarnation of the Divine, be so human that he too could break? My own understanding that Jesus was 'breakable' was a very important step in my spiritual journey....Accepting Jesus' humanness was like being given permission to be human...."
If we look at the Scripture story again, perhaps we see a Jesus who is close to breaking. He has just revealed a deep truth about himself to his followers - the Eucharist, that he is the Bread of Life, the Cup of Salvation - and a whole group of them are so angry and upset that they leave him for good. Abandon him! How broken his heart must have been when he turns to his friends and asks them " Will you leave me too?" Perhaps his commitment to his ministry, his calling, has never felt more like death. What will he do if the Twelve also decide to leave?
We can think of Peter taking a huge step into the confusing unknown of further commitment when he decides to stay with Jesus. But undoubtedly Peter's words also buoy Jesus up, giving him courage to continue to stay with his commitment to them! This is the Jesus who later weeps when he knows he is facing an agonizing death, who tells his Father in the garden "If it be possible, take this cup from me, but not my will but Your Will be done." Jesus knew in the end that only by continuing his faithful commitment through death that he would bring new life to all of us. How deep and faithful Jesus' love for us is!
When we know we need to, and, deep down, want to, continue the way we are on, we can be human and reveal our breakableness to the human and breakable Jesus. We can open our hearts to Jesus and be available to him, deep down, no matter how uncomfortable, ashamed, or embarrassed we may be. We can be open down past our thoughts, down past our feelings, down past our actions and failings and waffling, down past our psychological sense of ourselves. We can wait, allowing ourselves to be seen, understood, accepted, and loved by the One Who did not disdain to take on our humanness. We can sense - in a way we can't express - that Jesus is telling us "Let me love you. Get yourself out of the way and LET ME LOVE YOU!"
Because that's what Jesus always wants to do for us - love us. When we sit quietly with him, perhaps picturing our head on his shoulder, he will always give us the strength and courage we need. When life as we know it leaves us in famine, he is our Living Bread and Saving Cup. When we are angry with ourselves and feeling weak, he reminds us that we only drain and hobble ourselves when we refuse to love ourselves, and when we refuse to open our hearts to be filled with his love for us.
How often have you watched a toddler learning how to walk? How often he takes a few steps and then falls down? Perhaps your loved toddler cries for a few minutes. But then she struggles to get up and take a few steps more. Life, blooming inside her, compels her to get up from her falls and keep going and growing. He isn't ashamed he fell; he just gets up to try again, sometimes with our encouragement. And Mom or Dad, Grandma or Grandpa, is always there to wipe the tears away and put the little one on his feet to try again. Maybe laugh a little - because toddlers learning to walk are very comical to watch!
Falling, being confused, not knowing how to continue, crying, wanting to give up - it's all part of being human. So is the graceful continuing on, knowing that faith, hope, and love don't reside in our thoughts or our feelings but in our actions. When the hardest thing and the right thing are the same, when we're broken or ready to break, our breakable Jesus picks us up, hugs us, and helps us stumble along till our footsteps get steadier. Maybe he laughs a little. After all, he has the long view, the big picture, and maybe there is a comical side to all our protestations.
But we're his toddlers in the faith, after all. His to nurture, pick up, and love all over again. Every time we fall - or we're about to- he helps us to continue to walk the walk of faith, until we reach the end of our journey and come home.