My husband, aware of my depression, encouraged me out of my Black Hole by inviting me to go with him to Mass. Carrying my pillow, I trudged to the 5 PM Mass with him. I did not want to be there. My rebellious emotions were too ticked off at God's current plans for my life - or non-life - for me to want to spend time with Him.
So God proceeded to give me a learning experience. We were not in our home parish. Nevertheless, an usher came up to us before Mass, and invited us to carry up the gifts of bread and wine at the Offertory. My ever-obliging husband Paul cheerfully told him "Yes." As soon as the usher left, I hissed at Paul "Why didn't you tell him 'NO!'" My husband wisely did not reply. I slid lower into my seat, fighting a black, bleak anger.
God murmured "You managed to move around your house today when you wanted to. Can't you move around for Me in My house? Bring up the gifts that also represent your giving your life to Me?"
"Can't You just leave me alone right now?" I muttered back. "I LIKE my Black Hole!"
So God hit me over the head with the Scripture readings. In the first reading, Joshua proclaimed "But as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord." ("Am I currently serving the Lord or am I M.I.A?" I asked myself.) In the second reading, St. Paul proclaimed "Husbands, love your wives as Christ loved the Church." ("Pretty hard for Paul to love ME today," I muttered to myself, stealing a glance at my carefully non-committal helpmate.)
In the Gospel reading, (from John 6) Jesus taught that He is the Bread of Life; His body is real food and his blood is real drink. Many of His followers, upset by his direct language, left him to return to their former ways of life. Jesus looked at his friends, the apostles, and said mournfully "Do you also want to leave?" (At this point I squirmed guiltily.) Peter said "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the Words of Eternal Life."
I recommenced communications with God. "All right, Lord," I said. "I may not be feeling much like a disciple right now, but I know and You know that there IS no other place for me to go. I want to be here, by Your side. Just hang on to me right now, O.K.?"
Then God threw the final teaching at me: the homily. Fr. Peter said very strongly that we should not receive the Real Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist if we were not at peace as far as possible with the people in our lives. So, as he finished preaching, I finally gave in and let go of my pity party. "I'm sorry," I whispered to my husband. When later he took my hand to hold during the "Our Father" and we exchanged a kiss at the Sign of Peace, these love touches meant so much to me because of my earlier alienation and isolation from life.
"Oh Lord I am not worthy to receive You," I murmured as I approached Fr. Peter to receive my Lord. "Say but the Word and my soul will be healed." But I knew He had already begun healing me.
Humanly speaking, for Jesus, as well as for us, life was a learning experience. The one who would become our Master Teacher still needed to be taught. The Great Mystery about Jesus is that he had both Divine and human consciousness and understanding, and no one can know how the Divine and human interacted within him. But Scripture gives us some clues.
Fr. James Martin, S.J. says "Luke notes that as a young man, Jesus 'increased in wisdom.' Why would he have to increase in wisdom if he knew everything? As a youth, Jesus was probably curious... We can imagine him asking questions of Mary and Joseph: 'What's that?' As an adolescent, he would have sought answers to larger questions: 'Why do people die?' As an adult, he would have been interested in the lives of those around him: 'Why must we give so much to Herod?' His teachers in Nazareth would have instructed him in his Jewish faith, including how to read Hebrew. And Joseph would have trained him in the art of being a tekton" (a carpenter, woodworker, stonemason, cartwright, and joiner all rolled into one.)
Fr. Martin continues "Jesus may also have 'progressed,' to use Luke's word, in understanding his vocation... We face a dilemma. Did the Son of God always fully comprehend his unique Purpose? Did he understand it from the day of his birth, or at least from the time he gained self-awareness? One possible approach, based on several passages in the New Testament, is that Jesus may have grown in his understanding of his mission step by step until finally grasping it completely. After all, his first miracle, the Wedding Feast at Cana, seems a reluctant one. When the wine runs out, his mother encourages him to come to the aid of the hosts. But he says to her, rather sharply, 'Woman, what concern is that to you and me? My hour has not yet come."
Mary calmly says to the servants "Do whatever he tells you."
From the moment the angel asked her to be the mother of a child called "Son of the Most High," Mary has had time to meditate on her son's call from God, to treasure her life and his in her heart, and learn from every experience. Perhaps mother and son discussed what his ministry would be on many different occasions as he grew from adolescence to young manhood. Perhaps she realizes, before he does, that the time for his mission to begin is Here - Now - at an ordinary Wedding Feast in Cana. Martin observes, "Perhaps this was the moment that Mary invited him to embrace the path that God had set out for him."
The sinless, human Jesus learned from the people in his life, learned from his experiences, probably even learned slowly, gradually what his ministry in life was to be. At every step, he had to pray, make decisions, make choices, discern where God was inviting and leading him in his daily life, often through the invitations of others.
You and I are sinners. We too need to pray and discern and learn and choose what directions God is inviting us to embrace in our daily lives. Even a simple decision to choose to attend a Sunday Mass at a different church or to answer an usher's invitation to bring up the gifts can lead to a learning experience, to discover that God can ask us to serve Him anywhere and anytime. In my case, I also have learned that Jesus will ask me, over and over in this life, "Do you also want to leave?" And my answer, even out of a deep, dark abyss of self-pity, must always be "No, Lord. I will never leave you. You have the Words of Eternal Life."