“If you know me, then you will also know my
Father.
From now on you do know him and have seen him.”
Philip said to Jesus,
“Master, show us the Father, and that will be enough for us.”
Jesus said to him, “Have I been with you for so long a time
and you still do not know me, Philip?
Whoever has seen me has seen the Father.
From now on you do know him and have seen him.”
Philip said to Jesus,
“Master, show us the Father, and that will be enough for us.”
Jesus said to him, “Have I been with you for so long a time
and you still do not know me, Philip?
Whoever has seen me has seen the Father.
Once he enters
the Cenacle with his disciples the hostile conflicts of John’s Gospel end. Jesus
still challenges his disciples and his tone may sound disappointed and
frustrated as he teaches them, but his affection for them is palpable. He wants
them – and us – to know who he is.
Isn’t that what
everyone wants, to be known, recognized and appreciated by loved ones? Our loneliest
moments are those when we realize, “They don’t know what I am feeling.” The feeling
may be of gladness or sadness, fear or desire. It doesn’t matter what the
feeling is; it wants attention and no one sees, knows or acknowledges it. Sometimes it’s enough to say, “I feel this
way.” More often, I wish someone other than myself understood.
This is Jesus’ desire
as he approaches Calvary. This is God’s desire in Jesus among us. God wants us
to know him, and he especially wants us to see, know, understand and appreciate
how intensely he loves us. He will reveal his Son to us in the beauty and the intensity
of Calvary so that we see it with
blinding sight.
It is a
staggering reality. In John’s gospel, when the temple guards see it they fall to the ground. Even Jesus must
collapse in Gethsemane
under its weight.
By the Eucharist Jesus
invites us to see his love for us. It is more than we can comprehend or fathom,
but perhaps we apprehend its overwhelming
mystery. It’s as if we have been led blindfolded to the rim of the Grand Canyon
where the blind is removed and we are finally allowed to see – and we fall back in reflexive amazement. The
body cannot bear the shock of God’s intensity. Our knees collapse as we genuflect in his presence. We are speechless
and grateful.
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I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.
Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.
I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.
You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.