One of the things I like about Mark’s gospel — which some of us have been reading during Advent — and what I like about it is that many of the people featured are either a bit bonkers or something of a letdown.
Well, there’s humanity right there in a nutshell.
If you still believe that you are the normal one then I’m sorry to disabuse you of that notion. Really. We’re all a bit cranky, egotistical, judgemental, eccentric, grumpy, obsessed with the wrong things, inattentive to the right things, snobbish, arrogant or generally potty! And that’s okay.
I’m not suggesting all of us are all of these things, but all of us are a mix of some of them. What we aren’t is normal. The good news is that God loves us just as we are, utterly and completely. The bad news is that we can’t encounter that love fully while we’re still pretending we’re better than others. The devotional life we aspire to is one where we accept our individual peculiarities. And when we do that, it’s a wee bit easier to accept everybody else’s weirdness.
When St Paul wrote that ‘all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God’, as he does in Romans 3, he doesn’t mean we’ve all done some naughty things that we should feel embarrassed about (that goes without saying). No, it goes much deeper than that, and means coming to terms with our own self-righteousness that makes us believe we’re better than others. It’s pretending you’re the normal one when others aren’t that’s the real sin.
The good news is that Jesus Christ is a great leveller. So when we stop getting all hoity-toity about other people, and start embracing and learning to understand our own peculiarities then we can more fully discover that scandalous love of God that takes us as we are. That’s what grace means.
The process of faith, of deepening our spirituality, begins with the phrase ‘know thyself.’ Not as you’d like to think of yourself, but the you you really are. That’s what humility is. Being able to recognise and admit to yourself: I’m a bit fearful at times. Or I feel a bit inadequate compared to others, so I behave oddly or speak harshly about them to make myself feel better. I struggle to recognise that I’m not actually better than others, because… well, just look at them… but also because pointing the finger is so much easier than the work of self-examination. I feel insecure. I’m shy. I don’t have very much patience with other people. I need to be admired or have opportunities to show off, in order to feel better about myself. I’d rather avoid people who are different from me because I can’t be bothered learning to understand their culture, their values, their customs because I worry it’ll take something away from me. (It won’t). I can’t cope with the speed that society is changing. I so dislike change that I’ll do what I can to control other people or situations I find myself in.
The great thing about the salvation that Jesus offers is that, while we’re undertaking the business of discovering and accepting our own particular peculiarities, we have absolutely no need to feel rubbish about ourselves. We’re loved by God just as we are. Jesus simply wants to lead us into a deeper loving union with God.
So while we’re letting go of our pretences about ourselves (which can feel scary, and sometimes be challenging) we can also let go of our hang-ups. Because God will hold onto us, and support us, when we allow the Holy Spirit to work in us and form us into new people.
That isn’t a process that happens overnight. It’s a lifetime’s work, rooted in a practice of daily prayer and devotions that invites Christ to lead us into wholeness.
I think Mary, the mother of Jesus, only a girl really, understood this. She seemed so tuned into God’s wavelength and had sufficient self-insight to attend to the work of God in her life, and the extraordinary announcement of the baby she was about to have.
How can you be sure that God accepts the weird and peculiar you that you are? Because he took on the weirdness of humanity in this little Christ child we celebrate today. God loves us in all our diversity and peculiarity and wrong-headedness and self-delusion — loves us enough to think — yeah, I’ll have a bit of that. I’ll enter right into that whole experience so they’ll know I’m totally with them. That I’m alongside them in all they’re going through. That if they’ll listen to me they’ll understand they could become so much fulfilled than they are, experience a much richer interior life, and they’ll know that I take them as they are because I’ve been there, done that and I’ve got the scars to prove it.
For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given:
and the government shall be upon his shoulder:
and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.
— Isaiah 9:6
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