(Jn 6:60-69)
In my private lessons in music school, it was a bad sign when my professor Chien Kwan Lin got up out of his chair. It was even worse when he walked to the piano.
The first sign meant that you had messed up, the second that you had messed up and were out of tune. Both involved a word of correction, a hard truth.
Chien Kwan was and is a fantastic professor, mentor and even father-figure. None of us wanted to disappoint him. Being perfectionists, none of us wanted to make mistakes or need correction, either. We hated receiving “hard sayings,” but each of them was necessary and lovingly delivered as he slowly shaped us into pros.
Those memories come to mind when reflecting on our Gospel reading this Sunday. To set the scene: immediately prior to this passage, Jesus reveals the truth about the Eucharist to the synagogue in Capernaum. His flesh is true food and his blood is true drink. Unless we eat of it, we have no life in us.
Often, insulated by centuries of belief in the Eucharist, we forget the shocking impact of those words. Of course, we think, he means a sacrament. The disciples, however, do not have that luxury. They receive the full brunt of the words, unmediated. As such, they have doubts and need to grow in understanding. Thus, we begin with, “This is a hard saying. Who can accept it?” Like music students, the disciples grumble when the Lord draws them outside their comfort zone. Moreover, when Jesus calls them out on their murmuring (never a good sign in the Bible or life) and doubles down, many walk away. Peter speaks for the faithful remnant, thanks be to God.
In addition to his teachings on the Eucharist, Jesus has many other hard sayings, and by necessary extension, so does our Catholic faith. The truths of our faith and call to conversion hit differently for everyone at different times in our lives. What may be a hard saying for me might not be for you. Yet, a common thread is the persistent wish to erase those sayings, or to walk away with the crowds in response. What is the true Christian response?
To start, we ought to realize: If we are who we claim to be (fallen, unique, individual creatures in the image and likeness of God and needing a savior from sin) and our faith is what it claims to be (a living relationship with the savior who heals us), then it should stand to reason that the faith will have a hard saying or two, a moment of correction and challenge, for all of us. All of us are out of tune with reality to a degree. All of us will need conversion by Christ, the master teacher, to bring us into harmony, albeit in different ways.
G.K. Chesterton put it another way: “We do not really want a religion that is right where we are right. What we want is a religion that is right where we are wrong.”
Yet, so often, we Catholics are put off when our faith presents a disagreeable teaching. If only we could see that our faith should make us uncomfortable, that those moments of challenge are a sign of its truth. Those teachings with which we disagree are precisely the points where God most wants to expand our hearts. If the faith only consisted in platitudes we consider comfortable, one might suspect it is not of God’s making but of ours. After all, who wants a doctor, coach or music teacher who tells you that you’re fine, even when you’re not?
This Gospel passage spurs us to take stock: Where does the faith make me most uncomfortable? What teaching would I change, if given the choice? Then, with Peter’s faith, we confess, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life” and ask the Lord to reveal to us where we need conversion in response to those hard sayings. After all, if we heed the hard sayings of Christ the master teacher, he’ll shape us, lesson by lesson, correction by correction, to join the music of the heavens for all eternity.
Fr. Miserendino is chaplain at the University of Mary Washington in Fredericksburg.
When faith makes us uncomfortable
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(Jn 6:60-69)
In my private lessons in music school, it was a bad sign when my professor Chien Kwan Lin got up out of his chair. It was even worse when he walked to the piano.
The first sign meant that you had messed up, the second that you had messed up and were out of tune. Both involved a word of correction, a hard truth.
Chien Kwan was and is a fantastic professor, mentor and even father-figure. None of us wanted to disappoint him. Being perfectionists, none of us wanted to make mistakes or need correction, either. We hated receiving “hard sayings,” but each of them was necessary and lovingly delivered as he slowly shaped us into pros.
Those memories come to mind when reflecting on our Gospel reading this Sunday. To set the scene: immediately prior to this passage, Jesus reveals the truth about the Eucharist to the synagogue in Capernaum. His flesh is true food and his blood is true drink. Unless we eat of it, we have no life in us.
Often, insulated by centuries of belief in the Eucharist, we forget the shocking impact of those words. Of course, we think, he means a sacrament. The disciples, however, do not have that luxury. They receive the full brunt of the words, unmediated. As such, they have doubts and need to grow in understanding. Thus, we begin with, “This is a hard saying. Who can accept it?” Like music students, the disciples grumble when the Lord draws them outside their comfort zone. Moreover, when Jesus calls them out on their murmuring (never a good sign in the Bible or life) and doubles down, many walk away. Peter speaks for the faithful remnant, thanks be to God.
In addition to his teachings on the Eucharist, Jesus has many other hard sayings, and by necessary extension, so does our Catholic faith. The truths of our faith and call to conversion hit differently for everyone at different times in our lives. What may be a hard saying for me might not be for you. Yet, a common thread is the persistent wish to erase those sayings, or to walk away with the crowds in response. What is the true Christian response?
To start, we ought to realize: If we are who we claim to be (fallen, unique, individual creatures in the image and likeness of God and needing a savior from sin) and our faith is what it claims to be (a living relationship with the savior who heals us), then it should stand to reason that the faith will have a hard saying or two, a moment of correction and challenge, for all of us. All of us are out of tune with reality to a degree. All of us will need conversion by Christ, the master teacher, to bring us into harmony, albeit in different ways.
G.K. Chesterton put it another way: “We do not really want a religion that is right where we are right. What we want is a religion that is right where we are wrong.”
Yet, so often, we Catholics are put off when our faith presents a disagreeable teaching. If only we could see that our faith should make us uncomfortable, that those moments of challenge are a sign of its truth. Those teachings with which we disagree are precisely the points where God most wants to expand our hearts. If the faith only consisted in platitudes we consider comfortable, one might suspect it is not of God’s making but of ours. After all, who wants a doctor, coach or music teacher who tells you that you’re fine, even when you’re not?
This Gospel passage spurs us to take stock: Where does the faith make me most uncomfortable? What teaching would I change, if given the choice? Then, with Peter’s faith, we confess, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life” and ask the Lord to reveal to us where we need conversion in response to those hard sayings. After all, if we heed the hard sayings of Christ the master teacher, he’ll shape us, lesson by lesson, correction by correction, to join the music of the heavens for all eternity.
Fr. Miserendino is chaplain at the University of Mary Washington in Fredericksburg.
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