Listen To What Jesus Says

Let us use our imagination and listen to what Jesus might say to us.

    Jesus said, “Stop judging, that you may not be judged. For as you judge, so will you be judged.”[1]  Let us not point to the devil walking at that man’s side — we may be walking alongside a mirror.

    The Franciscan Rule says, “… and let them be moderate, showing all mildness to all men … One way the brothers can conduct themselves among the unbelievers spiritually is to avoid quarrels and disputes and to be subject to every living human creature for God’s sake.” That is something we could ponder with profit — “to be subject to every living human creature for God’s sake.”

   When we hear something Jesus said we are prone to say, “That is good. I like that. It reminds me of so-and-so, he is just like that.”  Stop right there and think. Who is Jesus talking to? Is He talking to so-and-so? Not right this minute He isn’t. So-and-so isn’t here right now. No one is here right this minute but me. So, who is Jesus talking to; which brings me again to the point I am trying to make. We don’t really listen to what Jesus is saying. We are impolite. We only listen from the outside of our heads. We don’t listen from inside where our minds and hearts are attuned to the little voice of conscience trying to make itself heard. “Lord, make me an instrument of your peace,” the little voice quavers; but is drowned out by the strident words that pour forth from our mouths.

     Take the parable of the Good Samaritan. We immediately think, “I am not like that. I would stop and help the injured man. I am a Franciscan.

    I want to advance in spiritual perfection, don’t I? All right then, if I do, then let me read those words of Jesus again, carefully. I am not really trying to advance in spirituality unless I look right down underneath and see Jesus standing there pointing a finger at me. He says, “Don’t go applying my words to anyone else, “I’m talking to you.”

    So, I sit down and think about my prejudices. I think about how some of them are built-in prejudices, born in me. I remember away back when I was in the second or third grade, and I and a few school chums went skipping gaily along the sidewalk chanting, “Smarty, smarty, thought you had a party. No one came but a red headed darkie.” Did anyone say, “Stop that? That isn’t nice. That isn’t Christian.” No one did. No one thought of it, how could they; they all thought the same way.

   The prejudices that were born in us don’t have to stay in us. Most of us say glibly, “I don't have prejudices. I don’t have a thing against blacks, yellows, reds, Jews, or what have you. I treat everyone alike. Of course, that doesn’t mean I want to live next door to one of them. Ah! Right there we stumble and get snagged on our own words. Look at Jesus’ words again. See Him there, still pointing His finger at us. See His eyes boring right down into our innermost selves.

    “Ask yourself,” Christ challenges. “Would you live next door to one of them? And after you have truthfully answered that one, let me ask you another. By what right and by what exertion on your part did you come up with the personal achievement of being born white instead of black? By what failure or fault on their part did they bring themselves to be born black or brown instead of white? By the world's standards, they have three strikes against them at the outset simply because their skin is dark. By what right do you consider yourself superior because you were born rich, or highly intelligent, or endowed with a glorious singing voice, or a great talent for drawing, painting, writing, or a genius at figures and a whiz in the business world? Maybe you are a great athlete, or possess a beautiful face or body, or born male, or female. And then again maybe you were born into a good Christian family instead of a bastard child of a prostitute mother and a thieving father? It’s not under what circumstances you came screaming and kicking into the world that counts. The important thing is what you do with what you received from our Father, mentally, physically, and spiritually that tells the story.”

     Jesus pauses for breath, (my thoughts) “Remember,” He continues firmly, “there are a lot of morons in my everlasting Kingdom. There are many who would be called dummies by some of you — St. Margaret Mary wasn’t too bright. There are a lot of former prostitutes, thieves and bad guys in My Heaven. Think of Matthew, my apostle and evangelist, and Mary Magdalene, Dismas, Augustine, and many more. Oh, and don't forget one first class playboy, Francis of Assisi. St. Augustine was not only a bad guy at one time but he was black and probably a victim of discrimination. If I spoke to you in the lingo of my day on earth I would say to you, “Amen, Amen, I say unto you, many a man who is black on the outside is whiter inside than many a white man who is a whitewashed wall on the outside but splotchy and muddy and worm infested inside.”

    Jesus stops and toes at the ground under His feet and I think of the time He bends over and starts to write in the dust. Then says, “Whoever has ears ought to hear”[2] He goes on. “Do you have ears to hear? I hope so because I am talking to you.  Why don’t you listen to what I am saying to you?  This man over here is black outside, but he is a child of God. He is my child. You are white and you are a child of God. You are my child. That makes you brothers. When you sing in church, ‘With God as our Father, brothers all are we, let me live with my brother, in peace and harmony,’ stop just mouthing words. They are empty words unless you put them into practice. Start right now and work on this. It isn't easy.”

    “Who ever told you that being my disciple was easy?  When you stumble and make a boo-boo, and you will, you poor, weak little thing. Keep trying, hang in there, and don't give up. Judas gave up. He needn’t have gone the way he did. I would have forgiven him. Don’t you mind too much, I will understand. It takes a lot of doing.”

    “That reminds me,” Jesus’ eyes begin to dance; “I’ve heard some of you say something about someone who has wronged you. You say, ‘I forgive him, but …’ Tell me, what you mean by ‘but?’” He shakes His head, “You people,” He says wonderingly, “it’s a good thing I love you.”  

    Oh, yes Jesus, we love you too. Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. What a comfort it is to repeat your name. Teach us to be polite to you and to be polite to each other. Teach us to really see you hanging on the cross between two thieves. Help us to understand what that really means. Help us to really see the hordes gazing maliciously up at you. Help us to hear the thud of the blows they rain on your body and listen tothem scream “Save yourself if you are the Son of God, come down from the cross!”[3]