Have you ever flown a plane? I’m not asking whether you have ever been a passenger on a plane; that would be quite a daft question as over the last couple of decades air travel has become almost as common as any other means of travel. Have you ever piloted a plane? I have. Flying has been one of my many interests and hobbies for years and – as a man determined to chase my dreams – I flew a glider and a light aircraft. Not at the same time, mind you. Unfortunately, with my salary, even gliding was out of the question, so the only viable way was a flight simulator on a computer. It’s a far more serious business than you might think. So, I can reliably tell you from my real-life experience and the simulator that flying a plane isn’t as easy as it seems. Modern airliners are complicated flying machines that require specific procedures done in a particular order. Pilots must engage various systems to take off, to fly and to land safely. If you’re wondering where I’m going with that (excuse the pun), the keyword here is engagement.
In today’s gospel reading Jesus cast some light on his mission, widely misunderstood by his contemporaries as testified by the two of his followers who on their escape route to Emmaus complained that with Jesus’ death their hopes had died too (Luke 24:13-27). The main misconception about Jesus was the expectation that he would lead a political uprising against the Roman Empire and subsequently restore the independent Kingdom of Israel. So, every time Jesus talked about himself being handed over to the authorities and killed his followers were confused. They tended to deal with that confusion simply by dropping it off their radar and chasing their dreams regardless of Jesus’ pronouncements. In other words, they never really engaged with Jesus’ thinking. If this sounds familiar it’s because we follow the same route; we pick up what we like in the faith and skip the challenging bits. The central idea of today’s gospel reading is among those favourite ‘skippables’: ‘unless a wheat grain falls on the ground and dies, it remains only a single grain; but if it dies, it yields a rich harvest.’ For those who struggled to get this agricultural metaphor, Jesus added a layman’s explanation: ‘Anyone who loves his life loses it; anyone who hates his life in this world will keep it for the eternal life.’ For those who still don’t get it here’s my explanation: unless you sacrifice your life, it’s lived in vain. Nothing’s better to cheer us up, right? Please, don’t disengage yet.
This notion of dying for oneself, for making one’s life a sacrifice isn’t appealing for various reasons. We are evolutionarily hard-wired to protect ourselves at all cost. Consequently, we are inclined to put our needs ahead of everyone else’s; last year’s stockpiling exemplified it. When we do give up some of our liberties or needs to accommodate others usually – deep down – it’s of a transactional nature; in other words, what’s in it for me? It all sounds like a rather gloomy description of human nature but please do remember I’m talking about our instinctive, subconscious position. Of course, on top of that comes the layer of consciousness that makes us something much more than sentient beings driven mainly by instincts. We are complicated biological machines that use various systems and procedures for everyday operations and functions. It’s a bit like an aeroplane’s raw power, generated by its engines, being tamed by various systems to control and channel it for the purpose of flying. The laws of nature are not defied but harnessed. Similarly, instead of suppressing our nature and instincts (good luck if you try), we are supposed to take control of them and use their immense power for good. To enable us to do that we are equipped with three systems: reason, will and ability to love. All three must be engaged if we want to live life well. It applies to every aspect of it, including religious faith.
I mentioned earlier that the idea of making life a sacrifice isn’t appealing; well, it’s not completely true. It’s actually surprisingly common when someone else’s life is considered; people expect us to make sacrifices to accommodate their needs. That’s fair enough because life in society is basically transactional. That’s why those mental three control systems must be engaged in a specific order. The first one is the reason: the ability to discern, quantify, qualify and so on; in short, to ascribe value to things. This system uses acquired knowledge, experience, ethical and moral rules and so on. Effectively we discern whether something is good or bad and how good or bad it is. The outcome of this process feeds another system, the will: the ability to make decisions. Generally speaking, we are tuned to go for good and to avoid bad things. So, the better discernment provided by reason the greater a chance to make the right decision. At this stage, the reason must remain engaged because making decisions requires weighing up possible outcomes. And here’s the moment when the third system should be engaged: the ability to love. This is the system able to overdrive our natural instincts, channel their enormous power and use it for the greater good; in other words, make a sacrifice.
It all sounds a bit technical on one hand and psychological on the other; not very spiritual. There’s quite a common misconception that religious faith doesn’t need rational thinking; worryingly, there’s a trend that religious faith should reject or even replace rational thinking. I think it’s attractive to some people because, in practical terms, it removes the need to make up one’s mind and consequently any decision. It effectively transfers one’s responsibility to ‘god’. Such an attitude is dangerous in at least two ways. Firstly, it creates fanatics unable to love others. Secondly, it creates the opportunity for crashing down when things go wrong. Mature religious faith must engage reason, will and the ability to love.
In today’s gospel reading, Jesus talked about his imminent sacrifice. It wasn’t an easy choice as it’s clear from his words: ‘What shall I say: Father, save me from this hour?’ But it was shortly followed by his declaration: ‘But it was for this very reason that I have come to this hour.’ Jesus’ sacrifice was his well-considered decision, not an impulse. In fact, making the right choices is the main thread that weaves throughout the entire Bible. It always appeals to human reason to recognise what is good and to follow it, as exemplified in today’s gospel: ‘If a man serves me, he must follow me.’
Image by Gerhard G. from Pixabay