From Fear to Love – Br. Luke Ditewig
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When I entered seminary, I was confident that I would become a hospital chaplain. In college, I had a very positive experience in a small hospital chaplaincy internship, and I thought this was the path for me. So my whole first year of seminary I eagerly looked forward to the summer for a full-fledged internship. I thought this would be a little step up from what I had done in college.
Instead it was a huge leap and huge disappointment. Not long into the program, I found I didn’t like it at all. I had an excellent teacher in a wonderful department and hospital. They weren’t the problem. I just didn’t fit. This wasn’t my path. It was the opposite of what I expected, a 180. My dream shattered. I was sad and confused. Why had I been so excited? Did I not hear correctly? Did I make a huge mistake? Should I return to seminary in the fall? If not, what in the world should I do next?
It took me several weeks to finally share those feelings with my fellow interns and teacher. I delayed so long because I was afraid. I feared revealing my not-so-calm-and-tidy inner life, my confusion, grief and crisis. I was afraid they might not take it seriously, afraid they might not listen and afraid to assert my stuff amid that of others. I was afraid to be vulnerable.
That fear feels like yesterday. Not just because it’s a clear memory, but because I’m still afraid! Today I’m in a much different place, but I have the same troubles. I’m still often trapped by fear. I still second-guess. I still delay acting, and I still distort the issues because I’m afraid. Perhaps you know what this is like.
Easter was six weeks ago. Shouldn’t I be confident in the Resurrection by now? The first disciples were far from confident. Their dream of Jesus had shattered. Seeing him alive was not an immediate fix. They often didn’t recognize him. Near the empty tomb, Mary thought Jesus was the gardener. On the road to Emmaus, two followers had a long talk with Jesus thinking he was a stranger. While fishing, others didn’t see that it was Jesus speaking to them on the beach. The frightened followers locked the doors when they gathered. Why were we so excited? Did we not hear correctly? Did we make a huge mistake? What in the world should we do now?
When Jesus appears, the disciples are terrified. Jesus says: “Peace be with you.”1 He says this over and over to reassure them. These resurrection scenes echo Holy Week as Jesus keeps reassuring his frightened followers. Our Gospel lesson today comes from the last great conversation on Maundy Thursday. Jesus speaks to his followers, frightened to be in Jerusalem where death threats loom heavily.
“As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love. Love one another as I have loved you. You are my friends.”2 Abide can mean to remain, to stick with. Jesus says: the Father has stuck with me. I’ll stick with you. We’re in this together. So love each other. Be friends.
Jesus both reassures and instructs how to love and how to be friends. It’s Maundy Thursday. Jesus just went around washing their feet. He, the teacher, acted like a slave doing the most demeaning work. Then he says: Follow my example. Even more disturbing, Jesus says: I’m not your master; I’m your friend. You all be friends. Love one another by washing each other’s feet.
Slaves washed feet, not peers, let alone friends. But Jesus invites us to wash each other’s feet. If I let you near my feet, you could learn things I don’t want known or I’m embarrassed about. Feet show who has shouldered a lot of burdens and who has had a pampered life. Feet are dirty and stink. Jesus says wash each other’s feet?!
What might this look like beyond literal foot washing? What might it be like to share what’s messy and usually hidden? That’s a frightening question! Perhaps it’s more frightening and risky than literally washing each other’s feet. Because if you really knew me, you couldn’t possibly love me. If you love me, it’s only in part because you don’t fully know me.
That summer I served in the hospital felt like a 180 as I found I didn’t want to be a chaplain. The other turnaround, the other 180, is I risked sharing my crisis with my fellow interns. I risked showing them my feet. To my surprise and relief, they listened. They loved me. They were Jesus to me. Through them, Jesus knelt down, washed my feet and said: “I both know you and love you. I’ll stick with you to the end. I’m your friend.”
What do you fear today? Perhaps it’s about your life or that of someone else. I often don’t even know what I fear. I’m just aware I’m afraid. Jesus won’t leave us alone in our fear. He loves us too much! Jesus is here with you and me, and so are all of his friends. So risk being loved. Show your feet. Risk being a friend. Wash feet tenderly.
As we do this, amazing stuff happens. Obstacles don’t disappear, but much good comes in sharing life as friends. As we brothers say in our Rule of Life, friendship is “a means of grace” and its demands “further our conversion.”3 Live by doing 180s at least daily, turning, converting from being hidden to being seen, from fear to love.
Jesus says: Peace. I love you so very much. I’ll stick with you. Love one another. Be friends. Listen. Wash. Love.
3 SSJE Rule of Life: “The Graces of Friendship”
Thank you for your words of wisdom, and for being willing to be vulnerable. This is a hard thing for me given an upbringing that focused on the bootstrap theory of life and the illusion of complete self-sufficiency. Part of that self-sufficiency, I was told, was to not be afraid of anything, or if I was, not to tell anyone about it, especially as a man. The same principle applied to desire, the need for help sometimes, or the need for community. I was told not to ask for any of that. So, it is always a gift to me to receive words that are in keeping with God’s view of creation in general and especially God’s human creation (“and God saw that it is very good”) in the midst of so much, both internal and external, that would try to work against being whole.
A radiant homily, Br. Luke. Your speaking always goes straight to my heart, as it seems to come straight from yours. Thank you for daring to be vulnerable so that we may have the courage to bare our dirty feet and wash our friends’ grubby ones, and see Jesus in the interaction.
Thank you for the insight of friendship as grace. Today a dear friend faces breast surgery and we all are surrounded by fear. Is this our fate as we age? How do we walk this path with our friends, strangers and ourselves? Grace on the form of friendship and love can guide us, through Jesus own example.
Thank you Brother Luke! This is very pertinent to what my congregation faces right now.
Thank you Br. Luke,
You have just let a lot of fresh air into my life that was really needed.
Margaret.
Br. Luke, thank you for articulating so clearly the morass of thoughts/feelings that often cloud my mind. On my best days, when I am “intentionally aware,” I can see that my very strong tendency to procraste is almost always tied to my fear. Vulnerability is not my strong suit! (I erased this comment three or four times and re-wrote it before clicking “Submit!”) Your thoughts help motivate me to be more “intentionally aware” of the availabilty of a 180, and, with God’s help, maybe even the will and courage to take the risks and make one more often!
Wow, that hit the nail on the head.
I have so much fear of not being the person people think I am I can’t tell you.
Years of being shamed that have become old tapes, showing up although not as often or as harshly felt.
What does God want me to do still is heavy on my heart.
Sometimes I think it’s that I am looking for something big when being a servant is all that is expected of me.
Your sermon helps me make sense out of my need to change and be open to the tasks Jesus needs me for and rejoice in those opportunities.
By the way. . . You are an excellent writer and I enjoy all your offerings. You have a gift and the ability to bless others by sharing the way of Jesus in this way
Thank you
I know how you feel. I think we sometimes go into areas of life thinking that is God’s plan when in reality that is our plan. Then God lets us see our mistake and we have to take the time to correct it.
Br. Luke, I loved this homily. I have read it a second time. I can relate to feelings of indecision, sometimes wanting to hide our dirty feet, not knowing how others will take it. I thank God for giving me courage and the ability to trust and believe. “Open my eyes that I may see
Visions of truth Thou hast for me…”
Thanks and blessings on you.
I love being loved, by all my friends and eventually by my so-called enemies. The latter sometimes turn out to be my most loving friends. Why? Because they have never before experienced the powerful and wondrous nature of being loved without a contract.
Our Lord gives us examples of His love if we just open our eyes: the world around us, our friends, people in need, little babies, sunrises and sunsets, … I could go on for hours, but I think you get the picture. God loves us ALL. including of course you and me.
Bob
Several weeks ago, my wife and I were team members at a Cursillo. As part of the Cursillo, my wife and I were ask to give the Marriage Rollo. I had to look at our 44 years of marriage and relate to the other members of the team and the candidates things done and thing left undo as a husband and as a father. I had fears as to what others would think. In the end, what I did was good because I opened myself up and exposed myself and my sins of the past to others which was a release of my fears and I found forgiveness from God, others and myself.
Thank you. Br. Luke. I can really relate to this. It is in many people’s natures to be afraid of being known. As someone who has always been an intensely private person, I can appreciate what a challenge it can be to allow oneself to be embraced by love and community. How hard it can be to be a shining light, and not hide under a basket. Personally I’ve always found the shelter of the bushel basket quite roomy and secure – it is a challenge.