In the Wilderness
Imagine searching for guidance on the best way to live life. You have the chance to speak with two advisors. The first lifts your spirits. After listening carefully to you, he explains that you have value, possess unique insights, and have something to say and contribute. He argues that your needs and feelings must come first, that everything will work out, and that what matters most is what you want; your life, experiences, and goals count. He provides valuable advice on working diligently, saving wisely, planning strategically, building steadily, establishing, thriving, loving, and relishing a life well-lived, enriched by the company of family, community, friends, children, and grandchildren. He expresses affection, even nostalgia for the person you are, what your shared humanity represents, and who you will become—then you turn to the second advisor.
His name is Paul.
He is not interested in what you have to say. He can’t hear you; even if he could, he would not listen. Moreover, to make sure that you know, beyond the shadow of any doubt, that nothing of value can ever come from you, as the guest in your home, he ridicules and invalidates your family tree. He explains that you are nothing and have no value as a husband or a father. You are a tool to be used for a purpose until you are broken and eventually set aside, like a used-up oblation. He admits that this goes against your nature because no man is truly capable of hating his own flesh, but that’s his point; he is giving you a dark saying from Psalm 78; he is hitting you with the painful imposition of the words of Genesis, sealed in the content of his teaching of the Cross in 1 Corinthians: it is not your life. There is no such thing as “your” life. It is life, of which human beings are only a small part.
Your plans are not God’s plan. The things that you build—your dynasties and eternity projects—offend God. You want to please others, to be surrounded by friends and family, because you want to please yourself. But this is not love. You will not become anything. You are temporary, taken from dust and returning to dust. Like all men, your days are like grass, and the place where you once lived will not remember you. The only thing that stands is the Torah, which was here before you, does not come from you and will be here after you are long gone. As my student Luke now explains, there is a chance, after the cancellation of the kings and princes of Israel, that this Torah can be found again in the wilderness, in the arms of the Lamb of God, who will be slain for your sake. So, keep your mouth shut and listen to him.
Be honest. Which advice would take? You don’t have to answer today, but, believe me, you will have to answer.
Richard and Fr. Marc discuss Luke 4:1-2 (Episode 490)
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His name is Paul.
He is not interested in what you have to say. He can’t hear you; even if he could, he would not listen. Moreover, to make sure that you know, beyond the shadow of any doubt, that nothing of value can ever come from you, as the guest in your home, he ridicules and invalidates your family tree. He explains that you are nothing and have no value as a husband or a father. You are a tool to be used for a purpose until you are broken and eventually set aside, like a used-up oblation. He admits that this goes against your nature because no man is truly capable of hating his own flesh, but that’s his point; he is giving you a dark saying from Psalm 78; he is hitting you with the painful imposition of the words of Genesis, sealed in the content of his teaching of the Cross in 1 Corinthians: it is not your life. There is no such thing as “your” life. It is life, of which human beings are only a small part.
Your plans are not God’s plan. The things that you build—your dynasties and eternity projects—offend God. You want to please others, to be surrounded by friends and family, because you want to please yourself. But this is not love. You will not become anything. You are temporary, taken from dust and returning to dust. Like all men, your days are like grass, and the place where you once lived will not remember you. The only thing that stands is the Torah, which was here before you, does not come from you and will be here after you are long gone. As my student Luke now explains, there is a chance, after the cancellation of the kings and princes of Israel, that this Torah can be found again in the wilderness, in the arms of the Lamb of God, who will be slain for your sake. So, keep your mouth shut and listen to him.
Be honest. Which advice would take? You don’t have to answer today, but, believe me, you will have to answer.
Richard and Fr. Marc discuss Luke 4:1-2 (Episode 490)