He began to teach them that the Son of Man must suffer greatly and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and rise after three days. Mark 8:33
My niece, Samantha, is going to college in Africa, far from her comfortable home and life in the US. Her e-mails are a remarkable journal of discovery and appreciation of the new culture as well discoveries about her own life at home. Education is so prized and sought after that she described classrooms jammed full with eager students filling every chair, standing around the walls, crowding the doorways and hanging in windows, just to hear the lecture.
When she met a young man on the street and he learned where she went to school, he said how much he would love to attend, but “it’s only for the rich kids.” Samantha, whose college tuition is a patchwork resulting from grants, loans and long hours of waitressing back home wanted to protest that she wasn’t rich. She writes, “My first instinct was to say, ‘We’re just poor college students like you.’ But I can’t. I can’t say that all.”
There is a discomfort for any of us in realizing that what we think of as a moderate or modest lifestyle is for most of the world lavish beyond imagining. That discomfort is at the heart of today’s readings because it is at the heart of Jesus’ teachings.
In the first reading from James, we are told not to “show partiality” to one with gold rings and fine clothes and not to ignore “the poor person with shabby clothes.” Of course we wouldn’t, we can assure ourselves, but our culture is completely structured to honor the wealthy and ignore the poor, just as it was in Jesus’ time.
In Mark’s gospel today, Jesus and his disciples are traveling between villages and he asks them who they believe he is. “You are the Christ,” Peter acknowledges. But as soon as Jesus begins to describe what it means to be Christ – rejection, suffering and death – Peter tries to discourage Jesus from talking about it.
I always want to avoid the most uncomfortable situations, from conflict to rejection. But if I am really a follower of Christ, I have to do more than just offer lip service. It’s not enough to say I am a follower of Jesus as Peter does. I have to live it and accept all that it means.
I have to be more aware of the agony of people around the world, in Darfur, in the Middle East and in my own country. I have to grapple with the fact that Mary, an older woman I know who lives on the tiniest of incomes, is in pain because Congress cut her physical therapy, while giving me a tax refund I don’t need. Not only did I not protest this cut, my “busy” life meant I barely followed it in the news.
James writes, “Did not God choose those who are poor in the world to be rich in faith and heirs of the Kingdom…?” Catholic social teaching has long promoted a “preferential option for the poor” but like the disciples in today’s gospel, it’s too easy for me to say, “Wait a minute, Jesus, you’re scaring us with this kind of talk. What is all this suffering and rejection? Can’t you just talk to us about love and sharing?”
But if Jesus takes his place alongside the poor, it will involve suffering and rejection, and deaths of various kinds. That is the invitation he extends to me, to all of us, as his followers. “Go deeper into my love. Stand next to me in this life. Help me love and protect those who are most helpless.”
Dear Jesus, I’m not very courageous in many ways. I prefer to duck my head when it comes to standing up for the poor. I fear somehow getting swept into that rejection. Help me to understand I am not alone in this. Help me to trust that my life will be free-er and that my heart will be more able to love, if only I let go of my insecurities. Show me the way, your way, and guide my life in your path.
Maureen McCann Waldron
The most important part of my life is my family – Jim my husband of 47 years and our two children. Our daughter Katy, a banker here in Omaha, and her husband John, have three wonderful children: Charlotte, Daniel and Elizabeth Grace. Our son Jack and his wife, Ellie, have added to our joy with their sons, Peter and Joseph.
I think family life is an incredible way to find God, even in (or maybe I should say, especially in) the most frustrating or mundane moments.
I am a native of the East Coast after graduating in 1971 from Archbishop John Carroll High School in suburban Philadelphia. I graduated from Creighton University in 1975 with a degree in Journalism and spent most of the next 20 years in corporate public relations in Omaha. I returned to Creighton in the 1990s and completed a master’s degree in Christian Spirituality in 1998.
As our children were growing up, my favorite times were always family dinners at home when the four of us would talk about our days. But now that our kids are gone from home, my husband and I have rediscovered how nice it is to have a quiet dinner together. I also have a special place in my heart for family vacations when the kids were little and four of us were away from home together. It’s a joy to be with my growing family.
Writing a Daily Reflection is always a graced moment, because only with God’s help could I ever write one. I know my own life is hectic, disjointed and imperfect and I know most of us have lives like that. I usually write from that point of view and I always seem to find some sentence, some word in the readings that speaks right to me, in all of my imperfection. I hope that whatever I write is in some way supportive of others.
It’s an incredibly humbling experience to hear from someone who was touched by something I wrote. Whether the note is from someone across campus or across the world, it makes me realize how connected we are all in our longing to grow closer to God.
