4th Sunday of Easter, A April 30, 2023
Fr. Alexander Albert St. John the Evangelist, Jeanerette
“Do you know what I love about no longer being a Christian? I can do whatever I want!” I saw that in an online forum for ex-Christians to support each other after leaving. What I find interesting about that claim is what isn’t said directly. This appeal to freedom is built on a deeper belief that that kind of freedom is what will make you happy.
You know what, that online commentor probably experienced Christianity as a religion of restrictions, shame, and fear. To them, Jesus has only ever been invoked to control their behavior or restrict their freedom. Jesus was only ever the person who wanted to send them to hell for not doing as he says, for not being what he wants them to be.
That sounds awful, doesn’t it? I’d leave that religion too. Fortunately, that is not the Catholic faith. That is not who Jesus really is. Because I know that, I’m actually a little hopeful for the one who wrote that comment. After a while of what seems like happiness in doing whatever they want without guilt, they’ll notice they aren’t as happy as they think. It might take years or even decades, but eventually they’ll find themselves full of shame and misery even though they haven’t been a Christian in a long time. They’ll find that that supposed freedom wasn’t so freeing after all. Finally, there’s a chance – I pray it does happen – that they’ll finally be ready to see Jesus for who he really is and the Church for who she really is.
But that long journey began with a kind of brutal honesty… even though they turned out to be wrong…they were at least honest with themselves about what they perceived to be the truth. This is quite frankly better than being the miserable “Christian” who really thinks Jesus low-key hates them and resentfully goes through the motions… the bound up “believer” who is too afraid to reject what makes them miserable, but also too afraid to look any closer at who Jesus is for fear of only becoming more miserable, more constricted by the truth.
With that in mind, what do you really feel when you hear Jesus say, “I came so that they might have life and have it more abundantly?” What do you really think about that claim? I’ll go first. Honestly, sometimes when I hear that claim, there is a part of my mind that immediately thinks “yeah, right.” Sometimes there’s a knot in my gut when I hear it. Part of me wonders if God actually wants me to be miserable.
Does it shock you to hear a priest say that? Does it make you worry about me? Then allow me to put that in context. I’m also indescribably glad that I was born and raised Catholic. I rejoice, sometimes to the point of tears, at the fact that I am a priest. All the time, I look at the tabernacle or the host with joy, happy that I have the incomparable privilege to not only receive the Eucharist, to not only know Jesus, but to also make Jesus present in my very hands… that my words have that kind of power. They do… I know they do.
But I would be lying if I denied that first part… if I pretended I wasn’t sometimes tempted to agree with people who find Catholicism burdensome. This is not the life I would have chosen for myself and it is hard in ways I didn’t expect. But it is the life to which I was called and it is in fact more abundant than anything I tried to create for myself.
The thing is that if I didn’t honestly admit to that first part, if I didn’t go through the terrible pain and difficulty of facing that first part, I wouldn’t have that abundance either. There is an inflection point in the life of any mature believer – often many more than one – where we must go through the trial of reconciling what we claim to believe with what we actually experience… where we must reconcile our God-given desire for freedom and happiness with the God-given call placed on our lives.
Pope Francis, citing a recent document produced by the world’s bishops, tells us that “vocation is ‘the interplay between divine choice and human freedom’ a dynamic and exciting relationship between God and the human heart.” As St. Peter puts it in the second reading, we must be “patient when [we] suffer for doing what is good, this is a grace before God. For to this [we] have been called.”
This is the same Peter who, standing before a crowd of Jews – of lifelong believers – takes the very truth they claimed to believe and uses it to expose the fact that their own misery and hypocrisy not only prevented them from really living their faith, but actually led them to outright murder the one who came to fulfill their faith and their lives.
That challenge brings us this line: they were “cut to the heart.” Our hearts long for freedom. They long for happiness. In our fallenness, however, our hearts so often fail to recognize what truly satisfies. This is why the Shepherd comes, why he calls to us. That’s what “vocation” means – a call. That call is not slavery. The sheep “follow [the shepherd] because” he calls them by name and “they recognize his voice,” not because he beats them into submission. Yes, that call often leads through suffering, but it does not lead to misery. Rather, it leads to joy.
In order for that to happen we need to actually hear his voice. Not the voice of the world offering mere pleasure. Not the voice of our traumas and fears that we can’t trust Jesus. Not the voice of the evil one who shames us with sin, claiming we’re never enough. Not the voice of the media saying who they think Jesus is. His voice.
How do we do that? I’ll offer what works for me, what gets me beyond that fear that God wants me to be miserable, what helps me recognize that my vocation – that his call is not contrary to my freedom after all. Honest prayer, continuous searching, and authentic friendship.
Admit to God what you really think and feel in prayer. Yes, you need your discipline and memorized prayer, but you also need to be honest with him. He knows, but telling him lets him in. Some of my angriest, most bitter times in prayer led directly to moments of great peace and encouragement.
Keep looking for the truth. We don’t know Jesus as well as we think. Keep going back to Church teaching and Scripture. Even if you aren’t learning anything new, time spent meditating on those truths yields greater faith, stronger hope, deeper love. I can’t count the number of times I’ve come across a teaching and said “I already knew that, but man I kinda forgot it and really needed to hear it right now.”
Authentic friendship. There are many kinds of friendships, but authentic ones are built on virtue – a common love of what is good, a mutual desire to make each other better. Spiritual direction and therapy can fit into this, but also much more. Sometimes it was fun together, sometimes it was awkward vulnerability, sometimes it was even in stupid fights, but many of the moments I’ve heard the voice of the shepherd were those I spent with friends – brothers and sisters in Christ.
The Lord is my Shepherd. He is your shepherd. He came that we might have abundant life, but we can only receive that if we’re willing to follow him. Through fear, through pain, through errors and confusion, he still calls to you. Are you listening for his voice? Or do you, like so many, think that if you just ignore it long enough, maybe… maybe then you’ll be happy?