Twentieth Sunday After Pentecost
Quietness of mind is a priceless blessing. And so we ask for it in today's Collect. Quietness of mind -- serenity, tranquility, or inward security-- is the fruit of the pardon and peace that only God can bestow. According to the Collect, it comes together with a cleansing of the soul from sin; for quietness of mind cannot cohabit with sin. Sin causes anguish, fear, restlessness, and insecurity. Once sin has been washed away, the soul begins to experience quietness of mind.
Collect
Grant, we beseech Thee, O Lord,
to Thy faithful people pardon and peace,
that they may be cleansed from all their sins,
and serve Thee with a quiet mind.
Translation by the Marquess of Bute, 1879
O Lord! we beseech Thee bestow upon Thy faithful people pardon,
and of Thy forgiveness, peace:
that they may be cleansed of all their offences,
and likewise serve Thee with quiet minds.
Translation by J.D.C., 1852
Epistle: Ephesians 5:15-21
See therefore, brethren, how you walk circumspectly: not as unwise, But as wise: redeeming the time, because the days are evil. Wherefore, become not unwise: but understanding what is the will of God. And be not drunk with wine, wherein is luxury: but be ye filled with the Holy Spirit, Speaking to yourselves in psalms and hymns and spiritual canticles, singing and making melody in your hearts to the Lord: Giving thanks always for all things, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, to God and the Father: Being subject one to another, in the fear of Christ.
In the Epistle, Saint Paul, tells us to walk circumspectly, or cautiously, watching where we place our feet. We cannot walk circumspectly if we are always rushing about, from one thing to another. The frenzied pace foisted upon us by the secular culture must be resisted calmly by a peaceful pace, one marked by Benedictine gravitas, and by a tranquil assessment of the things that surround us. Thus are we given grace to "redeem the time", that is to make a difference in the culture that surrounds us, by giving an example of peace in turmoil, of serenity in anguish, of purity in licentiousness, of quietness in the infernal din that alienates so many from themselves and from God's perfect will for them.
Nolite inebriari vino, says the Apostle, sed implemini Spiritu Sancto. Is this not Saint Ambrose's inspiration, in the hymn for Monday Lauds?
Christusque nobis sit cibus,
potusque noster sit fides;
laeti bibamus sobriam
ebrietatem Spiritus.
And Christ to us for food shall be,
from Him our drink that welleth free,
the Spirit's wine, that maketh whole,
and mocking not, exalts the soul.
The "sober drunkenness" of the Holy Ghost gives rise to singing. But, here again, Christians do not sing as the world, intoxicated by passing pleasures, sings. The melody that rises from the heart of the Church is not of this world. It is the sound of heaven while we are yet on earth. And so, "psalms and hymns and spiritual canticles" find a very pure expression in the Church's plainchant. Plainchant is the song of those who have drunken deeply of the Holy Spirit. It is also one of the chief means given us by the Church to acquire the quiet mind for which we pray in the Collect.
Holy Gospel: John 4:46-53
He came again therefore into Cana of Galilee, where he made the water wine. And there was a certain ruler, whose son was sick at Capharnaum. He having heard that Jesus was come from Judea into Galilee, sent to him and prayed him to come down and heal his son: for he was at the point of death. Jesus therefore said to him: Unless you see signs and wonders, you believe not. The ruler saith to him: Lord, come down before that my son die. Jesus saith to him: Go thy way. Thy son liveth. The man believed the word which Jesus said to him and went his way. And as he was going down, his servants met him: and they brought word, saying, that his son lived. He asked therefore of them the hour wherein he grew better. And they said to him: Yesterday at the seventh hour, the fever left him. The father therefore knew that it was at the same hour that Jesus said to him: Thy son liveth. And himself believed, and his whole house.
Driven to Jesus Out of Desperation
The noble ruler of the Gospel is driven to Jesus out of desperation. His son is sick with a life-threatening fever. He comes to Jesus for his son's sake, being ready in his child's last critical hours to do whatever may save him. Jesus knows that the ruler has come to him, not out of faith, but as a last recourse. In His Heart, Our Lord decides to give the man not only his son's life, but also the gift of faith. "Go thy way, thy son liveth."
Thy Son Liveth
The ruler, clinging to the word of Jesus, sets out for his home. This is the real beginning of his journey in faith. Every step marks the growth of faith in his heart. His obedience to the word of Jesus brings about an increase of faith. And, lest he become discouraged along the way, he is met by his servants bearing news of his son's miraculous recovery at the very hour when Jesus said to him, "Thy son liveth."
The ruler, accompanied by his retinue, continues the journey home where, undoubtedly his son came out to meet him. Thus did the whole household come to believe, with him, in Jesus.
When Jesus Speaks A Word
It sometimes happens that we are driven to Jesus out of desperation. The circumstances and changes of life call us to change, and yet fear holds us back. Insecurity threatens us from all sides. And so we go to Jesus, worn down by suffering and ready to receive His word, if only it might save us. Jesus speaks His word. Ours it is to cling to or to reject. If we cling to it, we will begin to walk with it, perhaps in the very direction of what we fear most.
And then, while we are yet walking by faith, Our Lord sends us bearers of good news. Heartened by their testimony, we complete the journey with a lighter step and with the first stirrings of thanksgiving in the heart.
A Monastic Vocation Story
I have seen this very drama play itself out in the discernment of a monastic vocation. Am I called to the cloister or not? Will it be for me the place of death or the place of life? Should I not remain where I am, in spite of the inward restlessness that tells me that I am called to something more? And then, there comes a moment of capitulation to Jesus. He sees that I have come to him, not out of faith, but of sheer weariness after sleepless nights and ghostly struggles. What does He give me? A word. Mine it is to obey His word by taking the next step, or to turn away from Him, like the rich young man who refused to journey in the insecurity of faith.
If I set out, there will be bearers of glad tidings to meet me along the way. If I refuse to walk in faith, clinging to the word of Jesus as I put one foot in front of the other, I risk never finding the home He has prepared for my soul.