#mixed mess

(for someone who needs to hear this again)

Genealogy is interesting. Kind of. If it’s yours.

Somebody else’s genealogy? Not that interesting. Unless you know something about the people listed in it.

Today’s Gospel is the genealogy of Jesus. At first glance, it’s little more than a list of who was the father or mother of someone. Mostly names you’ve never seen before.

But if you start looking more closely at the people on the list, a picture emerges. But it’s not one that we would necessarily expect.

The list includes kings and priests, farmers and warriors. But it also includes murderers and adulterers, prostitutes and thieves. C.S. Lewis called it a bloodline with “both honor enough to raise the head of the poorest beggar, and shame enough to bow the shoulders of the proudest emperor.”

God is calling you to do something. God put you here for a reason. If you’re still drawing a breath, there is something that God is calling you to do.

And God will give you everything you need to do what He’s calling you to do, if you let Him.

If you’re holding back, because you don’t think you’ve got what it takes. If you’re thinking, “I could never do that” – because of how you were raised, or the problems in your family, or your ethnicity, or where you’re from – take a look at the family tree of Jesus.

It’s a mixed mess. One that God intentionally chose to be the gene pool of His only Son.

God intentionally chose it. Not just to fulfill the prophecies about where the Messiah would come from.

But to give you and me the most personal example possible (His own Son) of what really matters. For Jesus to show us, with His life, that living fully in God’s will for our lives (think Garden of Gethsemane) is the only thing that really matters.

That no background or baggage can keep you from fulfilling God’s will for your life, if you give yourself fully to God.

(for someone who needs to hear this again)

Genealogy is interesting. Kind of. If it’s yours.

Somebody else’s genealogy? Not that interesting. Unless you know something about the people listed in it.

Today’s Gospel is the genealogy of Jesus. At first glance, it’s little more than a list of who was the father or mother of someone. Mostly names you’ve never seen before.

But if you start looking more closely at the people on the list, a picture emerges. But it’s not one that we would necessarily expect.

The list includes kings and priests, farmers and warriors. But it also includes murderers and adulterers, prostitutes and thieves. C.S. Lewis called it a bloodline with “both honor enough to raise the head of the poorest beggar, and shame enough to bow the shoulders of the proudest emperor.”

God is calling you to do something. God put you here for a reason. If you’re still drawing a breath, there is something that God is calling you to do.

And God will give you everything you need to do what He’s calling you to do, if you let Him.

If you’re holding back, because you don’t think you’ve got what it takes. If you’re thinking, “I could never do that” – because of how you were raised, or the problems in your family, or your ethnicity, or where you’re from – take a look at the family tree of Jesus.

It’s a mixed mess. One that God intentionally chose to be the gene pool of His only Son.

God intentionally chose it. Not just to fulfill the prophecies about where the Messiah would come from.

But to give you and me the most personal example possible (His own Son) of what really matters. For Jesus to show us, with His life, that living fully in God’s will for our lives (think Garden of Gethsemane) is the only thing that really matters.

That no background or baggage can keep you from fulfilling God’s will for your life, if you give yourself fully to God.

(for M., who needs to hear this again)

Doing things for the right reasons.

It’s one of the constant themes in the Gospels. Jesus comes back to it time after time.

But even if we know nothing about the Gospels. Instinctively, there’s something in us that just knows that heart of every good thing, every important thing? Is doing it for the right reason.

It sound great. You and I should always do the right thing. For the right reason.

But what if you’re not? What if you’re not doing it for the right reasons?

What if – like most of us – you’re kind of a mixed mess, when it comes to reasons?

Sure, there are some good things in there. Things like love and compassion. Humility and gratitude. Faith and a desire to glorify God.

But that’s not all that in there. A lot of the time, there are other things mixed into our reasons.

 Things like need and insecurity. Fear and vanity. Doubt and a desire to distract ourselves from things we don’t like about us.

For those of us who aren’t 100%, 100% of the time (that would be all of us), what do we do about the good things, the important things?

Do we hold off on doing the right thing? Waiting until we’re having one of our “perfect” moments, so we can do them for the right reasons?

I don’t know about you, but for me? That’s going to be a long wait.

This is why I really need to hear what Jesus is saying in today’s Gospel. When He talks about when we’re not doing it for the right reasons. In the context of belief, Jesus puts it this way, “even if you do not believe me, believe the works.”

In other words, if we can’t do the right thing for the right reason, it’s okay to be less than perfect. It’s okay to do it for mixed motives. If that’s the best we can do right now, that shouldn’t keep us from doing the right thing.

If the best we can do right now is just show up, for reasons that aren’t really clear. At least not to us. That’s okay. God can work with that.

Why? Because God knows us better than we do. God knows that even just doing the right thing, even just showing up, will change us. Will help us want to do the right thing for the right reason.

To become someone who does the right things for the right reasons starts with doing the right things. Even when we don’t have the right reasons.

When you do, be honest with yourself. Think about it. Keep praying. And keep showing up.

A lot of Apostles share names.

There are two with the name of James. Two Simons, even two Judas’s. But there’s only one Nathanael.

That’s plenty. And the Gospel from Monday shows us why.

The first time Nathanael and Jesus see each other, everything clicks into place. Jesus says to him, “here is someone in whom there is no deceit.” And Nathanael’s response? “You are the Son of God.”

Unlike every other Apostle, Nathanael immediately knows exactly who Jesus is. Like flipping a switch. How is that even possible?

It’s simple, actually. And it’s a ringing indictment of you and me, and every other person for whom it isn’t like flipping a switch. Because of what it tells us about Nathanael. Which is?

In the words of C.S. Lewis, “It takes holiness to detect holiness.”

That’s why Nathanael immediately knows exactly who Jesus is. Because that’s how holy he is.

Jesus reached out to Nathanael once. And Nathanael got it.

That’s why one Nathanael is plenty. That’s why you and I need the rest of the Apostles.

Because the rest of the Apostles? They’re a mixed mess. One of them over-promises and under-performs. Two of them are all about recognition and being first. One of them is a revolutionary. Another one has doubts. You get the idea.

The part I love? How Jesus treats the rest of the Apostles. The mixed mess. The ones who aren’t already holy. The not-Nathanael’s.

When they don’t get it immediately? Watch what Jesus does. Jesus doesn’t give up on them.

Time after time. Jesus tells them, and shows them, exactly who He is. And for years, none of it really clicks for them.

But Jesus doesn’t hold them to the Nathanael standard.

Jesus reaches out to them. And keeps reaching out to them. Until they get it.

It shows us that there’s a place in the heart of Jesus for each one of them.

And it’s a sign of hope. For all of us.

Because it shows us that there’s a place in the heart of Jesus for each one of us.

For you and me, and all of the other not-Nathanael’s.

Even if we’re not already holy.

Every age has its mistakes.

One of the big mistakes of our age? Black and white thinking. The false assumption that something, or someone, has to be either all one thing or all the other. As if there were only two, mutually exclusive options. And nothing else was even possible.

Sometimes it’s easy to spot. Like in toxic workplaces. And toxic families.

Either you’re either on the good list. And can do no wrong. Or you’re on the bad list. And can do no right.

What’s harder to spot is when you and I internalize that false assumption. And assume that we can only be one thing or the other.

One of the common ways this plays out in our thinking? With doubt. The notion that if we have any questions, any doubt at all, then we can’t believe in something. And therefore, must totally reject it.

The idea that we could love something, or someone, and still have doubts?

We don’t know what to do with that. We can say the words. But the idea? It is so foreign to us, that it just doesn’t stick.

Which is why we struggle to understand Mary Magdalene’s actions in today’s Gospel. She sees Jesus, she talks to Jesus, but she doesn’t recognize Jesus. Not at first.

This makes no sense to us. How could someone who loves Jesus not recognize Jesus?

If you’ve ever wanted to see how bizarre speculation about stuff in the Bible can get, today’s Gospel is an absolute goldmine. And it’s all because of our black and white thinking.

If you’re not locked into black and white thinking, the truth of the matter is actually pretty simple. And something that we all do, but don’t admit to ourselves that we do.

Mary Magdalene loved and doubted.

The truth is, Mary is just like us. We might like to pretend that we’re all one thing and not the other. But none of us really are that way. All of us are a mixed bag.

This was common knowledge in the early centuries of the Church. Speaking about Mary Magdalene, Pope Gregory the Great put it this way,

“Because she loved and doubted, she saw Him and did not recognize Him. Her doubt prevented her from knowing Him, and her love revealed Him to her.”

Nowhere does it say that Jesus removed all of Mary Magdalene’s doubts. Or that she had perfect faith. Mary Magdalene loved and doubted.

You want to know why, in the end, Mary Magdalene was able to recognize Jesus?

Because she didn’t let her doubts run away with her. She didn’t fall for the nonsense that one drop of doubt somehow cancels an ocean of love.

Mary Magdalene kept on loving, even though she doubted. And in the end, it was that love, in the face of doubt, that carried her to Jesus.

Mary Magdalene’s lesson for us is something that you and I cannot hear enough in this age of black and white thinking.

You can love and doubt.

God won’t love you any less.

It’s okay to doubt. But don’t let it keep you from loving God.

When people ask me about my spiritual life, usually it’s because there’s something missing in their own spiritual life. And they want to do something about it. That’s great!

But I think there’s this unspoken assumption that someone in Holy Orders has it all together. Or knows the secret to it all. Or has no difficulty staying focused on God. Or something like that.

I wish.

A lot of graces come with Ordination. So far, a magically easy spiritual life does not appear to be one of them.

If I’m honest, my own spiritual life is more like a soccer ball. In that when I start to roll off the field, God kicks me back into play.

It’s kind of like the Apostles’ response to the risen Christ. Even with Jesus right in front of them. Showing them His wounds. They’re still struggling with their faith.

They’re rejoicing and doubting at the same time. Just like us.

After all they’ve been through. With Jesus right there. This should all be so easy for them. But somehow they’re still a mixed mess of joy and doubt. Just like us.

The best part? How Jesus responds.

Jesus doesn’t give up on them. Instead, He holds them even closer.

Just like He does, for each one of us.