Author: WebDept ParishAdmin

I recently read an essay by Simone Weil about the relationship between academic study and our love of God. She wrote the essay in the early 20th century to encourage eighth graders in their studies. Weil promotes the concept of attention in her essay. Namely, that both academic studies and prayer require our attention. While we are tempted, and indeed rewarded, for measuring academic success by grades or other external factors, Weil argues that the quality of attention matters more, both in academics and in our relationship with God. 

Today’s Gospel brings to mind this idea of how we give our attention and how we measure the fruitfulness of that attention. Jesus has just fed the 5000 by multiplying the loaves and fishes. After working this miracle, his disciples retreat across the sea to Capernaum and encounter Jesus walking on the water three or four miles from shore (Jn 6:19).

While we can’t tell from Scripture, the crowds might have witnessed this scene since they knew where to find Jesus even though they knew that he did not initially leave the shore with the disciples (Jn 6:22). The crowd followed Jesus to Capernaum.

John tells us that these people were “seeking Jesus” (Jn. 6:24). They were giving Jesus their attention. But much like our efforts today, the crowd’s efforts were flawed. Jesus told the crowds that they were seeking him “not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves” (Jn 6:27). Jesus admonishes the crowds not to labor for the food which perishes, but for the food which endures to eternal life.   

The crowd is so relatable. They seek Jesus, but for a reward or a particular result. How often do we do this too? We pray for the resolution of a crisis. We pray for our families. We even pray for sports games and parking spots! But how often do we pray simply to sit at his feet and give Jesus our attention? 

In Weil’s essay, she reminds us that when we focus our attention on grasping truth, we “acquire a greater aptitude for grasping it, even if the effort produces no visible fruit.” Prayer is a lot like this. Whenever we turn our attention to God, we grow in relationship with him. When we simply give God our attention, what we find is that his attention is fixed squarely on us. So let’s figuratively follow Jesus across the sea to Capernaum today. But let’s follow him there to give him our attention and to spend time simply being in prayer with our Lord.

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I must admit that I am tired of storms. I’m worn out trying to find my life story—my Covid pandemic life story—reflected in the apostles’ experience of storms at sea. 

I’m exhausted trying to outsmart an invisible enemy. 

I’m finished for a while with helping people make sense of what has been senseless suffering in their lives for these past two years.

The global consequences of the pandemic are so overwhelming I want to just sit down and cry. I long for the former days that seem in misty memory to have been more carefree and happy.

So the words that attracted my attention in the Gospel reading in today’s liturgy were these: “the boat immediately arrived at the shore to which they were heading.”

The apostles wanted to take Jesus into their boat. They were prepared to take charge and figure out the next best thing to do. Oh, how much of my life I’ve spent doing precisely this. These past two years that have been not only pandemic-riddled but also have been years of great loss on different levels have finally worn me out. I certainly don’t know the next move and I’ve finally acknowledged that I certainly don’t have what it requires to take the situation in hand and plot a way forward.

If you feel this way, just a little, trust in the Lord who brought the boat immediately to the shore to which they were heading. Sometimes we get taken to places in our lives that we would never have gone on our own, places that we would never have chosen, that we still don’t entirely comprehend. Somehow through it all we are taken by God to a shore where we are safe, yet we don’t know how we got there, where we are to go, or how we are to get there. We simply realize that God himself did it for us because he loves us poor storm-weary children.

It is a place of trust and of magnificent wonder: God is taking us somewhere, and he is doing it on his own, surprising us with his power, surrounding us with his love. “Do not be afraid,” he says. “It is I.”

I want to finish this reflection with three lines that perfectly express my prayer in these days. They are from a poem by Marie Noël (The Hours: Prime) found in the book Born from the Gaze of God: The Tibhirine Journal of a Martyr Monk (1993-1996).

Father, carry my soul in its carefreeness
To where you want, and let it sleep in your hand
Without asking the meaning and the goal of the road.

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