Fr. Frank Majka, SJ – The Bridge

Vocations Between the Lines

The gospels sometimes leave out details. For instance, in the first chapter of Mark’s gospel, the story of Jesus’ calling the first disciples is about as bare bones as one could imagine: Jesus sees four fishermen; he calls them; they follow him (two leave their father as well).

One suspects there had to be more to it than that, and we are free to imagine what Mark left out. For example, it seems likely that these four knew about Jesus either from other people’s reports or their own experiences of seeing him heal or hearing him preach, so when he called them they had some notion of what he was calling them to. It’s also reasonable to believe that James’ and John’s leaving their father entailed a goodbye and perhaps an apology for leaving him two men short in his boat.

Of course, sometimes we do make quick decisions, like a man or woman who meets someone and decides right away this person is the one they want to marry. But I think that most important decisions, especially about vocational calls, take some time.

How has vocation happened for you? Did your call to follow Jesus come to you suddenly or gradually? Is it still getting clearer as to what your calling involves? Each of us has a unique vocation story. What’s yours?

Calls and Changes

Sometimes vocational calls come by hearing a word of command (“Follow me!”). Sometimes they come as a response to one’s curiosity (“Where do you live? . . . Come and see.”) Sometimes they come as promises, as in Christ’s call to Peter (“You’ll be catching men”) or Nathaniel (“You’ll see great things”) or the disciples at the last supper (“You’ll do greater things than I”). They vary from person to person.

I’ve also found that what people feel called to sometimes changes, so that what sustains them is different from what originally drew them. For example, I wanted to be in a religious order that lived a common life, but I regarded being a Jesuit teacher as my basic vocation. Now Jesuit community life is more fundamental to me than teaching. In order of importance, the two have changed places.

What drew you to your vocation? Has it changed over time?

Looking and Finding

“Everything we knew brought us there, but nothing could prepare us for what we found.” So might the wise men have said when they reflected back on their journey to Bethlehem.

They knew they would find a king because their knowledge of the heavens told them that when a king was born, a star would appear, and all they had to do was follow that star. But they thought kings were found only in palaces seated on thrones. They didn’t expect to find one in a common dwelling sitting on his mother’s lap with no servants or courtiers in attendance.

We can relate to their experience if we have set out to find Christ in churches or the beauties of nature or when good things happen to us, but find him also in unexpected places and circumstances. Mother Teresa said she found Christ “in the dreadful disguise of the poor,” parents of disabled or mentally challenged children may find him in their child’s smile or spontaneous display of love, and homeless people, ignored by all those who pass them by, may find him when others treat them with respect.

St. Paul wrote that we should seek the Lord; but, like the wise men, when we find him it may come as a surprise. Have you found yourself looking for Christ lately? If you’ve found him, was he what or where you expected?

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January 10, 2012; 50 degrees —- Isn’t there supposed to be some white stuff on the ground?

Naming God

In the Old Testament, God revealed his name to Moses: “I-Am-Who-Am”. It was a sacred, mysterious name and the practice grew up of never pronouncing it aloud. God’s name and the way it was treated suggested the distance between him and us.

But in the New Testament, God reveals himself in Jesus in a human way, and Jesus’ name is far from mysterious. “Joshua” (the original version of ”Jesus”) was a common name, thus suggesting not mystery and distance but closeness and familiarity.

I think many of us default to being formal when relating with Jesus or the Father; we may think that it’s bad manners to be too casual with them since they are so high above us. But isn’t that the point of Jesus’ name being so common, namely, that it’s an attempt to show he wants us to relate to him as we would a partner, dear friend, or companion? And didn’t Jesus himself tell his disciples to call the Father “papa” when they prayed?

If we believe all this is so, then our relationship with Jesus and his Father may become much warmer and more natural than we had imagined proper or possible.

The Two Weeks of Christmas

If you say, “Merry Christmas!” to someone after December 25, you’ll probably get a puzzled look, for in our society, once the 25th has come and gone, Christmas is over. But for centuries, Christmas Day was really the beginning of a two-week period of celebration that went on until January 6 — two weeks when the events and meaning of Christmas could sink in and be celebrated.

What if this year we tried spending two weeks soaking in the reality and meaning of Christmas? What might we think about? If we cared to, we might spend two weeks thinking about all the changes that happened with the coming of Christ: a virgin became a mother, angels spoke to ordinary people, a dark winter sky suddenly filled with light and the sound of singing, practical-minded shepherds testified to amazing things they’d heard and seen, learned men set out from distant lands to follow a star, and, sadly, a small-minded tyrant became jealous and afraid of a little baby. And how has the coming of Christ changed us? Are we different because he was born?

No, Christmas isn’t over. It’s just begun. And we don’t need to pay attention to our overly busy culture’s telling us that it’s time to move on after a day. Christmas has too much for us to think and pray about for it to be over in 24 hours. Let’s take our time with it so that it can take its time with us.