CROSSING THE THRESHOLD OF OURSELVES

 

CROSSING THE THRESHOLD OF OURSELVES

How quickly we have forgotten the lessons of lockdown. Planes no longer flew and we could hear the song of the bird. It was a war without weapons but with the soldiers on duty day and night spending themselves for the casualties with the same intensity and risk. Those closest to us became precious for we never knew; would they be next? Would I? Travel became a brief walk to the shops and entry there was spaced out as we kept our distance, measured in meters.

That year seemed like a long time and when it ended, we rejoiced to ‘get back’ to normal. But had we changed? Did we learn something?  Author Monica Furlong introduces us to an account of a prisoner of war camp, called The Cage. The men are in each other’s presence day and night with little to do. It was an unusual opportunity for them to get to know one another. But were they willing to do so? They prepared their isolation.

Opening ourselves to one another, she says, ‘is hopelessly entangled with feelings of danger. We dream of love and yearn for relief from isolation but run away when the moment arrives. What is it that is so dangerous about loving? I think we sense it asks of us something exceedingly painful. Sooner or later it demands a going out from ourselves, a vulnerability to other people, a carelessness about guarding our psychic boundaries.’

Furlong quotes Michael Quoist who says religion is all about ‘crossing the threshold of ourselves’. It not only means opening the door to the stranger but also dropping the defences we carry with us. How firmly we hold on to ourselves and do not allow another approach. When that ‘other’ is God, we are doubly afraid. Letting God approach fills us with terror. What might it mean?

And yet in our hearts, we sense it is the only true path to freedom. There are two sayings in the gospels which are really only one: ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart’ and ‘love your neighbour as yourself.’ Opening my door to the stranger is opening my door to God. John, in one of his letters, tells us we cannot go straight to God. We go through other people. ‘How can you say you love God, whom you have never seen, while you ignore your neighbour whom you see every day?’

‘How can you molest a stranger or oppress him? You lived as a stranger yourself in Egypt.’ (Exodus). Self, the other and God. We are all entangled - not hopelessly – but in a life-giving way.

29 Oct 2023                Sunday 30A        Exod 22:20-26        Thess 1:5-10        Mt 22:34-40