Jesus calls us to rhyme our lives with his, just as the New Covenant rhymes with the Old.
In past years, the WWJD (“What Would Jesus Do?”) phrase has become popular in some circles. It’s well intended and, to be sure, sometimes we are indeed to do what Jesus would do. So, for instance, when somebody sins against us, we must forgive them as Jesus would. When somebody is hurting, we must comfort them as Jesus would. When somebody is hungry, we must feed them as Jesus would.
But we must also remember that we are not Jesus. We are his disciples. We are to be like Jesus. We cannot be Jesus, and, therefore, we cannot always do what Jesus does.
We cannot, for example, multiply loaves and fishes, as a general rule. Nor can we raise people from the dead on a regular basis (though both things have been done from time to time by saints as miraculous signs). I think it would be great if God gave me the power to walk on water as a sign to my fellow Seattleites that he is real and Jesus is his Son. The spectacle of my hefty frame trotting along on Lake Washington next to the floating bridges would certainly be something that could contribute to the evangelization of this least-churched city in the least-churched state in the nation. But I find that God does not support my efforts to do what Jesus did in this particular circumstance.
Why? Because I am not Jesus. I am his disciple. My life is to rhyme with his, not be identical with and indistinguishable from his. He makes us his creatures in his image and likeness, not as robotic copies. He wants to have his cake and eat it by making creatures who are distinct from him with lives and wills of their own, yet are joined to him in the bond of love so that we retain our freedom and independent identities while sharing completely in his divine life.
This is one of the reasons Mary is so important. For there is one thing Jesus, God though he is, cannot do: He cannot show us what a disciple of Jesus looks like. Only a disciple of Jesus can do that.
Mary is Jesus’ greatest disciple. She shows us not what Jesus would do, but what a disciple of Jesus would do. Her life is not identical to Jesus’ life, but, rather, rhymes with Jesus’ life. Jesus calls us to follow him; Mary shows us what following him looks like.
The other saints do the same thing for us, particularly as they show us the sheer catholicity of what it means to follow Jesus. The saints are one in Christ, yet the sheer variety of their responses to God’s call forever puts to death that the Church is a monolith.
There are saints who have said Yes to Jesus by becoming poor men (like Francis), and there are saints who have said Yes to Jesus while remaining wealthy (like Joseph of Arimathea). There are saints who took up arms (like Joan of Arc) and saints who refused to take up arms (like Martin of Tours). There are saints who sought Jesus via family life (like Gianna Molla) and saints who sought Jesus via celibacy (like Jean Vianney).
There are saints who are the picture of psychological health and common sense (like Teresa of Avila) and saints who suffer from mental illness (like Benedict Joseph Labre). There are saints who undertook epic adventures (like Paul) and saints who lived quiet, obscure lives (like Thérèse of Lisieux). Some worked spectacular miracles by the grace of God (like Padre Pio). Others were bureaucrats who worked no miracles and pushed paper (like Robert Bellarmine).
But all of them, in their own ways, rhymed their lives with Jesus in pursuit of heaven. Of which, more next time.
Mark Shea blogs at NCRegister.com.
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Mark - I can see what you’re trying to say, but I think you may have sunk in over your head on that walk across Lake Washington. Like a frustrated poet, you’re trying so hard to make the words rhyme that you start sacrificing sense. I think your point is that WWJD is not ‘what would I do if I were Jesus’, it’s ‘what would Jesus do if He were faced with the circumstances I am facing and the limitations that restrict me’. If He were restricted by my limitations, He would not be able to miraculously feed the masses. But He might still take a minute from his busy day to talk to the old woman begging on the street, find out why she has been reduced to begging, and help her find her way to real help, as opposed to simply slipping her a dollar. He would not raise the dead, but he might take part in the local blood drive, or support other initiatives that help keep the living living. He would not be able to walk on water, but He might witness boldly to His limited imperfect faith even if it would drive some people away and make others think He’s a whack-job.
But please, Mark, think very carefully before invoking the famous old “there’s one thing that even God can’t do”. As far as my addled memory recalls from confirmation class, the only thing God can’t do is to make us love Him. But show us what a disciple looks like? Piece o’ manna.
Keep us thinking!
I think it would be good to expand on the role of the Blessed Virgin Mary beyond the usual “first disciple” meme.
Certainly, Mary is a “disciple” of Her Son, but she is hardly like “one of us.” As the Council of Ephesus declared, she is the “Mother of God.”
As Pope Pius IX declared in 1854, she was “preserved from all stain of original sin” (CCC 491). And in 1950, Pope Pius XII proclaimed the dogma of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary. And the prayer of the Miraculous Medal says: “O Mary, conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to thee, and for those who do not have recourse to thee, especially the enemies of the Church and those recommended to thee. Amen.”
Yes, the Virgin Mary is still a creature, subject to finitude, but she is hardly like the rest of human creation. She received special privileges from God, which the rest of us have not.
“Limitation” isn’t the problem here. (Although it has to be considered.) What Mark is talking about is the magic of individual personality and individual free will to make different but equally good choices.
Look, if Jesus had wanted to teach other kids his own age (and it had been part of the plan to start preaching that early), he wouldn’t have juggled like St. John Bosco, because he wasn’t the same guy with the same likes and dislikes and hobbies as St. John Bosco. It doesn’t mean juggling is wrong or right; it means that Jesus probably liked whittling and storytelling a lot better, because he was into the carpentry thing that his fosterdad taught him, and because His personality was, you know, being the Word and Making things.
But it wasn’t unlike Jesus; certainly the good Lord juggles the entire universe, with all the planets and stars and galaxies and galaxy clusters in their gravity-well courses. It was just not what Jesus Himself would have done, because God made people all in His likeness but all different from Himself. Different is fun and Creative.
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