Feast of Andrew the Apostle (Retreat Homily)

November 30, 2010

Contemplating characters like Andrew about whom we know little helps us to identify something in our story with theirs. It causes me to wonder about the ways the Twelve related to one another and to the larger community. Some see our vocational call as personal and sometimes private, and few times do we recognize the communal dimension of our call. In the Gospel today, we see blood brothers called to discipleship. Andrew and Peter are the first, then there is James and John, and what about Thomas? He is a twin. Of whom? We don't know. The Syriac tradition represents Thomas as Didymas, the twin brother of the Lord - though many fantastical are embellishments made in Acta Thomae. Vocational calls are not made in isolation.

One could probably imagine some sort of sibling rivalry or a power imbalance among those of the closest companions of Jesus. What feelings could arise from fraternal or existing relationships? For instance, Andrew is the one who first encounters Jesus, introduces his brother to him, is there when James and John are brought on board, and is relegated to at least a rank of fourth most important. He may not feel he received the favor of Jesus like his brother did. And then of course we remember John and James famous power play to be the favored ones who sit closest to Jesus when the kingdom fully comes about. I'm sure other undocumented tensions occurred often among the Twelve. I'm sure it wasn't all peace and love.

I paused to ask myself, "Would I be happy if one of my brothers (or today, one of my sisters) was called to ministry with me?" Of course I would. Would I be just as happy if Christ called him to a greater role than he assigned me? Today, I would say 'yes,' but it has taken me many years to come to that point. A time not too far in the past, my internal responses from my family history would have kicked in and I would have been spending one of my retreats looking at my unworthiness and fragile self-esteem. I would have wondered what I had done wrong and asked myself what about me was not good enough or will I ever measure up. The chaos of my family system would have emerged mightily to the surface. All that is unresolved with my siblings would rush up in anxiety and I would be consumed with too many competing and complicated emotions simultaneously. I would be too flummoxed to pray, except to ask for a savior who would liberate me from myself. I would spend much time gazing at my insufficiencies and weaknesses rather than focusing upon the one who called me into ministry.

We each have particular family dynamics that shape the way we see ourselves and the ways others see us. Families teach us many healthy behaviors and also debilitating and paralyzing ones, like enabling, co-dependencies, incorrectly expressing anger or unhealthily dealing with conflict. One's birth order in a family may dictate a particular role in the family system. An only child or one who is adopted brings it own dynamics. Our families teach us how to socialize and what to expect of ourselves. We relate to our siblings primarily through our parents, with whom we have many unresolved issues. Our call to discipleship is dual as well. We relate primarily to Christ, and through him we relate to our brothers and sisters who carry their own sets of chaos and promise. It can make for a messy situation.

It seems that whenever possible, we are to reconcile our family situations first if we are to be effective reconcilers for the people of God. From our families, we develop patterns of speech and action that indicate whether we are open or closed to reconciliation. For instance, if I passive-aggressively turn a cold shoulder to someone who offends me, I may inadvertently give Christ the cold shoulder in prayer when he wants to reveal something to me that I am unable to hear. If I'm angry with a friend's behavior, I can get angry with Christ. Does my language shut down prayer by using such words as 'no,' 'not,' 'but,' 'can't' or 'won't,' or does it build up by using connecting words like 'yes' and 'and?' The language that we use to communicate with others is the language that we use to speak with God. And it defines our openness to growth in grace.

During our first evening, I mentioned that I witnessed God's miracles during my tertianship experience in Australia. On the long retreat. I recalled with Christ many memories, some happy ones, others painful, of my life. He opened them up for me again. We've done it many times before, but this time he was able to reveal to me where he was present for my sake and he gave me insights into what he saw in those significant events. He wanted me to be patient with him and with the pain so I could come to accept his insight. Of course I dragged my feet though I knew I had to enter into that pain once more - this time more deeply. He was able to transform my feelings about myself, and about the re-membered events, and about the way I experienced the characters in those memories. It was really a miracle for me to let Christ so deep into that painful area so that these areas are no longer the weights in my unconsciousness. It was a miracle for those areas to become liberated from my imprisoning interpretations of them. I look at those memories with immense wonder now and I sit back and gasp. My unconsciousness now has a freedom that I savor.

A profound healing for me was to forgive my parents. Though they have done their best, I have held many things against them because I wanted them to choose better for themselves and for us children. I have finally forgiven them. Because of that, I can learn to love them in new ways. And I now have hope and promise for reconciling hurtful memories with my siblings. Christ will bring me there, I'm sure. I'm already seeing that I can care for them more delicately. And I like that. I do want the best for them and for us.

Because of this movement within myself, I can learn to love the church better. I can be more patient with those who hold different viewpoints than I do. I can uphold them as brothers and sisters called by Christ in the same way Christ called me. We will have our disagreements and I can now honor their life experiences. And I want to do what Andrew did - he brought others to Christ. He left his minor concerns aside and pointed others to Christ. He realized they are saying, "Sir, we would like to see Jesus." Only Jesus can take care of the chaos in our lives. We can't solve the core of it. He can heal us, bring us insights, and liberate us - if we allow ourselves to become open for his deep immersion into our souls. He aches for our redemption.

I'll close with a quote from Dietrich Bonhoeffer because it sums up Christ's deep yearning. It reads, "A prison cell, in which one waits, hopes... and is completely dependent on the fact that the door of freedom has to be opened from the outside, is not a bad picture of Advent."

Turn this retreat over to Christ. Let him enter your feelings and experiences, so, in his mercy, he can unlock your souls to a glorious new freedom.