In my younger days I taught sixth grade. One day, as we waited for dismissal, my students took up the topic of whether I was a better language arts teacher or math teacher. I thought I knew the answer: language arts. My students wrote essays each week, did plays, read multiple books, and generally achieved much in language arts. In contrast, I worried about my ability to teach math. I was never a good math student myself. I had to work hard to present the basic concepts.
My students thought the opposite. I’ve never forgotten what one of them said, “Mrs. Ortwein, we do a lot in reading and English, but I’m never sure I have it quite right. But you make math wonderful for me. You make each step simple. For the first time in my life I understand math!”
I had never thought of it like that. Like most everyone else, I try to cover up my vulnerabilities. I see them as weaknesses. Like the Pharisees in today’s Gospel, I want to cover them up. Unlike St. Paul, I do not wear them as a badge of honor.
Today’s readings contrast two ways of handling vulnerability. In the Gospel, Jesus comments on what he notices about the scribes and Pharisees. They hide their vulnerability by focusing on minor matters of the law, like tithing herbs, so no one notices their neglect of more significant matters—justice, mercy, and fidelity. They make a big deal about how dishes are washed, but neglect “the inside of the cup” of their own “plunder and self-indulgence.” As Jesus says in a famous line, they “strain at a gnat and swallow a camel.”
St. Paul takes a very different tact. He names his vulnerability. Our first readings for the next two weeks are from 1 Thessalonians. Paul, Timothy, and Silas traveled from modern day Turkey to Europe (Macedonia) around 50 AD. They began their evangelism work in Philippi, where they were met by resistance and violence. Then they came to Thessalonica, where they stayed at most a few months. Once a Christian colony was planted, they moved on to Beroea, Athens, and Corinth. Paul writes this letter a few months later from Corinth.
In this section of the letter Paul presents his vulnerability almost as a badge of honor. He describes how he had to go to God to have courage to preach to them after his bad experiences in Philippi. He says his preaching in Thessalonica was done “with much struggle.” Since he mentions that it was “not from delusion or impure motives, nor did it work through deception,” it is reasonable to imagine those accusations had been hurled at him. In fact, Paul noted he was not trying to please men in what he said, but to please God—an indication that men were not always pleased. Nor did the three missionaries claim special privilege as apostles. They chose instead to act as a caring mother. Paul’s conclusion then gets at the very core of vulnerability: “we were determined to share with you not only the Gospel of God, but our very selves as well, so dearly beloved had you become to us.”
Just like my math vulnerability made me a better math teacher, Paul’s vulnerability made him an effective evangelist. We know he never forgot how he had persecuted the earliest Christians. He preached Christ crucified because he realized that he had been saved by Christ. His vulnerability as a recipient of God’s goodness through the cross drew people close to him.
The Pharisees’ pride kept them from being effective religious leaders, just as my pride limited my ability to fully teach language arts. Their failure to be vulnerable even blinded them from seeing their own clear, major violations of the law.
If they had seen them, they could have been converted as Paul was. After all, he had once been a Pharisee.
I believe all of this is very relevant to us today. Our Catholic Church is in a vulnerable position. Surveys show that in the US only about one in four Catholics attend mass regularly on Sunday. Some estimates by popular authors suggest that perhaps as few as 5% live lives of disciples—fully committed to living the values and habits Jesus taught in the Gospels. As Pope John Paul II said, “We no longer live in Christendom.” Similar statistics are also true in Europe.
What are we to do? Jesus told us. Vatican II told us. Every pope since Vatican II told us: EVANGELIZE. Live with such joy in our relationship with Jesus that people notice and say, “I want to live life like that.”
We don’t do it. Why?
I believe it is because we don’t let ourselves be vulnerable—like Paul. We don’t admit to ourselves, to God, or to each other that we don’t know how to share our faith . We are embarrassed to talk about our special moments with God. We are afraid people will think we are trying to be holy or something. We are afraid we will fail.
That has been true for me. Too true! For myself, today, I will take a lesson from when I taught math: my vulnerability just might make me a better representative of the Gospel.
Prayer:
Lord, today help me to admit my vulnerability, at least to You. Paul was vulnerable, but it didn’t stop him. Jesus was vulnerable, and He turned it into our salvation. Lord, You know where I am in my faith, hope, and love. Take me to the next step, beginning today. I am at least willing to be vulnerable with You. See the inside of my cup. As today’s psalm, Psalm 139 says, “you have probed me and you know me.” Help me now to be vulnerable enough to let you work in me as you worked in Paul.
Amen
