REACHIING BEYOND MY GRASP

 

REACHIING BEYOND MY GRASP

I am by the sea. Each day I look out over the ocean seemingly stretching forever into the distance. I know that India and Australia are out there somewhere but all I can see is endless sea. Right in front of me the waves break against the shore and the water is thrown back. ‘Thus far shall you come, and no farther, and here shall your proud waves be stopped' (Job 38:11).

In the ancient world, the sea was seen as hostile, unpredictable, the home of monsters and part of the ‘good news’ in the book of Revelations (21:1) is ‘there was no more sea’. Many who love the sea, John Bradburne for instance, don’t find that ‘good news’, but the writer is referring to the ancient symbolism. Evil is conquered.

For me, as I stand by the sea, I see this vast expanse of ocean which, we now know, covers 64% of the planet. It stretches my vision and leads me to think of the almost immeasurable past which predates human evolution which itself took 200 000 years. What a speck each one of us is; no more than a grain of sand on the sea shore!

And yet each of us is known and loved. We are planted on this earth, itself a speck in the universe, and given the power to grow. Plants and animals grow but they lack the one quality we have; the power to choose. History tells us the woeful story of our bad choices. But it also tells us how many men and women have stretched out to reach beyond their grasp. There is an ache, a restlessness, in each of us. We know at the end of the day, ‘we are merely servants; we do what we can.’  But we feel it is far from enough.

God knows this and he reaches out to nourish us. Jesus tells the Jews, ‘I am the bread of life’. They have no idea what he means. But we do. The Lord comes, not to make choices for us, but to nourish us to make the right choices – all the time and in everything. This demands great attention, like the attention of an athlete in the Paris Olympics focused on a perfect performance. That is the wonderful thing about our life: we can be creators, all the time, co-creators with God who calls us to share in his unfinished work. Henri Nouwen spent his last years in a l’Arche community for people with mental disabilities. He was invited to give a lecture to a distinguished audience in New York and told the community he would be away for some days. Bill, one of the inmates said, ‘I will come with you.’ Taken aback, Henri book another ticket for him. Bill sat beside him on the podium and when the lecture was about to begin, he stood up and said, ‘we are doing this together.’ He then sat down. Everyone cheered. They understood.

As I look out at the vast sea and sense my littleness, I can sing Alleluia because my little loaves and fishes can go a long way.

4 August 2024  Sunday 18B                 Ex 16:2…15                 Ep 4:17…24                 Mk 9: 2-10