Reflecting on Matthew 4:12-23, I Corinthians 1:1-3
What would it be like to just leave it all behind? Say, for example, that you and your brother were in your father’s fishing boat, mending the nets, and the Rabbi came close to your boat and called you each by your name? What would it be like to just jump off the boat and go with him?
Or what if you were a tax collector for the Romans, counting two for them and one for you, and the Rabbi passed by your booth? What would it be like to just walk away, with the chips still on the table?
Or what if you were in the middle of an argument with your kid, and you were right and she was wrong, and this was finally your chance to wipe that smirk off her face, and instead the Rabbi looked straight into your heart, and you just stopped, and held your tongue, and actually listened―actually heard her and put yourself into her world and her place of powerlessness?
Or what if somebody liked to talk about his candidates and his take on immigration reform, and instead of feeling your heart rate go up and your face getting red, instead of saying I’m for Obama! or I’m for Palin!, the Rabbi entered the room, and you saw and felt the fears and frustrations of your friend, and you walked away from the argument and walked into an actual, real friendship based on real listening and real hearing?
What if the Rabbi was walking toward you right now, calling your name? My guess is that, if you’re reading this, he already has.
In what ways do you feel yourself bending to the will of the Rabbi?
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I have come to light a fire on the earth; how I wish it were already burning (Lk.12:49).