Fr. Frank Majka, SJ – The Bridge

Reaching Out to the Leper

In the first chapter of Mark’s gospel, Jesus cures a leper. Most manuscripts read that Jesus was motivated by pity, but other versions say he was moved by anger.

It’s easy to see how Jesus could feel pity for the man who was suffering. But Jesus could also have felt angry about the situation the man was in. The leper was defined in every aspect of his life by his disease and other people thought of him only in terms of his sickness. Forced to live away from his community and compelled to declare publicly that he was unclean, he was feared and shunned by everyone who encountered him. He can’t be blamed if he’d lost any sense of self-regard, not because of what he’d done done, but because of what he’d had no control over.

But Jesus knew that God did not regard him that way. So even before Jesus undertook to cure his leprosy, Jesus reached out and touched the man. That touch, extended in God’s name to one of God’s suffering children, was surely a sign of warmth and acceptance towards the man. Whether Jesus was acting out of pity or anger, there’s no doubt that his action must have deeply affected the man. To be touched even before he’d been cured was something he likely would never have expected.

This story of Jesus and the leper forces us to ask who are the people we exclude and are afraid to “touch” t or let get too close. It also challenges us to face the possibility that God may see them differently.

Little Stuff

I had a conversation with someone recently about what we should talk to God about when we pray. He was of the opinion that we should talk about what he called “the big stuff” — the really important things — and not bother God about smaller concerns.

I told him I respected his not wanting to bother God with a lot of “details,” but reminded him that Jesus never restricted prayer only to matters of great significance. On the contrary, there’s no list of acceptable or unacceptable things to talk to God about, and there’s no limit to the number of times we can bring things up.

As a matter of fact, though we commonly say, “The devil is in the details,” the details of our lives also the places where we can find God. God cares about us; according to Jesus, God has counted the hairs on our heads. Surely he’s interested in those things that concern us, even if we may think they are too small.

Mark’s “Strong Man” Jesus

Each gospel writer has his own way of presenting the work of Jesus. At the beginning of his gospel, Mark makes it clear that Jesus had come to overthrow the power and rule of Satan. The demons Jesus expels from a possessed man, in fact, ask Jesus directly, “Have you come to destroy us?” and Jesus basically tells them to shut up and leave. For Mark, Jesus is the “strong man” committed to pillaging and destroying the house of Satan.

Maybe you think of your faith as a pretty tame affair: praying and worshiping, leading a good life, treating other people with respect, and reaching out to those in need. But have you ever thought that when you do these things, you are actually participating in Jesus’ campaign to overthrow what opposes God’s reign?

When we do good, loving things and refuse to support what is wrong, we are participating in Jesus’ mission to transform the world — especially our little piece of that world — into God’s kingdom.

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?