In today’s gospel, we have the longer ending of Mark, which tells of three post-resurrection appearances, first to Mary Magdalene, then to two disciples on their way to the country (Emmaus?), and finally to the apostles, after which the Risen Christ commissions them to proclaim the Gospel to every creature. And in the first reading, we hear the story of the Jewish elders and officials struggling to hush Peter and John, who somehow suddenly became emboldened, eloquent preachers and were now performing miracles in Jesus’ name. We have quite a bit going on here: appearances of the Risen Christ, disbelief/hardness of heart, a universal proclamation command, ordinary folk suddenly becoming capable of extraordinary feats, and of course, politics. The plan to quell the new movement that Jesus began had been mysteriously foiled, and now the movement enters a new phase marked by an inexplicable invigoration and an other-worldly confidence in those he left behind.
Now, more than two thousand years later, we as preachers are continuing the proclamation mission that Jesus commanded. I wonder: When was the last time you felt, like Peter and John, that it was impossible for you to not speak about what you have seen and heard? Perhaps it’s been a while. Powerful spiritual experiences are few and far between. We cannot conjure them up; they are completely gratuitous gifts from God. We do retain in our hearts and minds some of the residual effects of these consolations, but never with the same intensity as the original experience. And there is much now that can get in the way, situations in our world that are confusing and heartbreaking and just plain evil. What is a preacher to do?
There are some practices that we can incorporate in our daily discipline, in addition to our practice of the four pillars of study, prayer, ministry, and community, that would put us in a favorable disposition for receiving the grace that we need to continue the preaching with vigor and confidence during these tough times.
First is rest. This seems to have become a forgotten virtue. The still, small voice of God cannot compete with all the noise and busyness that can too easily fill our lives.[1] Being overworked may feel normal, and even justified, but it is not conducive to theophanies.
Second is to develop a capacity for stillness and silence. Commit to daily centering prayer or some other form of meditation that is non-discursive. This opens us up to the somatic dimensions of our faith, and is a powerful corrective to an overly rationalized appropriation. Engage the liberating power of “Be still, and know that I am God.”
Third is to come to the well. We cannot give what we don’t have. If we are not spiritually nourished and healthy ourselves, it shows in our preaching and in all our relationships. As one wise and holy Sister always tells me, follow the consolation. Our tradition has unbelievable treasures in this regard that would allow us to cultivate the mystical aspect of our faith.
Fourth is to remember that we are only participants in this great mystery. Our contribution is vital and is also limited. As Ken Untener pointed out, “We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs.” We can take pleasure in doing what we are able to do with the grace that has been given to us.
And last but not least is to cultivate gratitude. If we think about everything that comes and works together in order to allow us to preach – the church, our teachers, religious communities, friends, families; our great traditions; the resources at our disposal; our body, mind, heart; the air we breath, the food we eat, the water we drink, and all of the grandeur of nature – we attune ourselves to the truly awesome providence of God.
Good and loving God, we thank you for the graces you bestow upon us to preach, as the first disciples did, the gospel of the Risen Christ in all we do and are. We humbly ask you to give us strength and clarity during these difficult times to always be about your mission of love. In Jesus’ name we ask. Amen. Alleluia!
Recommended Reading: Walter Bruegemann’s
Sabbath As Resistance: Saying No the Culture of Now.