Tuesday of the Twenty-seventh Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 462

O LORD, you have probed me and you know me;
you know when I sit and when I stand;
you understand my thoughts from afar.
My journeys and my rest you scrutinize,
with all my ways you are familiar.


The psalmist of the 139th psalm, reputed to be King David himself, displays a wonderful confidence in God's presence. He, or she, is profoundly aware of God's ever-observant eye, but suffers no lack of privacy, no sense of invasion. The author fairly  bathes in God's luxurious gaze despite the memory of personal sins and awareness of personal failings. 
He has sinned; the whole world knows David's sins against Bathsheba, Uriah and God. But he knows that God's mercy is infinitely deeper than his crimes. This psalmist knows love. 
Saint Paul demonstrated that same confidence despite his experience on the road to Damascus. The Lord's glance, like that which smote the Egyptians in the Red Sea, had knocked "Saul" to the ground. He had suddenly discovered that his efforts to wipe out the Christian gospel, which he had planned with every confidence, were absolutely not what God wanted. 
But he did not eat his heart out with chagrin, humiliation or shame. He did not rail against himself, "How could I be so stupid?" He had witnessed the horrific murder of Stephen in the street by a mob intoxicated with their religious assurance, and approved it! but he didn't punish himself for that. 
In his letter to the Corinthians he fairly shouted at them, "Stop judging me! I do not even judge myself! "The one who judges me is the Lord." 
If you ask yourself, "How deep is my faith?" you might look at Saint Paul's standard. He has placed his self-esteem entirely in God's hands. When you and I ask, "Am I loved?" or "Am I worthy?" Saint Paul has dismissed the questions for he believes and acts upon God's love. 
There is very little space between his faith and his action. He moves like a dancer, fluidly with a partner. 
Nor should we dismiss the example of Saint Paul with the excuse that "He is a saint and I am not." That misses the point. The Lord gives everyone a measure of the Holy Spirit and that spirit, like water in the desert, can enliven anyone. Just as water lilies and cacti flourish with water, so can you and I flourish with God's spirit. 
Very often, the Spirit simply doesn't have time for our hesitations, second guesses, and fearfulness. The Spirit says jump and we don't even ask, "How high?" We just do it -- like a parent protecting her child or a friend assisting a friend. There is no restraint. 
Even if we are mistaken sometimes, as Martha seems to be in today's gospel, the Lord does not rebuke. His repeated calling to her I read as a gentle, good-humored, "Martha, Martha, Come back to your self." He is not angry. Mary and Martha are both acting their parts: Mary, to sit and listen; Martha, to prepare a meal. They love what they do but Martha, in the heat of the moment, has forgotten herself. 
She seems to speak impetuously again when Jesus arrives four days late for Lazarus' funeral. But he will never abrade his friend; he only goes with her to the cemetery to reward her patience.
Saint Paul is so confident of the Lord's favor that he can invite us to do as he does. "Be imitators of me as I am of Christ."
That's what Christians always say to our friends and family, "Do as I do!" We can say this because the Spirit of Jesus impels us.