Overview:

Wednesday of the Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

A Reflection for Wednesday of the Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

“When the sabbath came he began to teach in the synagogue,
and many who heard him were astonished. 
They said, ‘Where did this man get all this? 
What kind of wisdom has been given him? 
What mighty deeds are wrought by his hands!” (Mk 6:2)

Find today’s readings here.

When we read the Gospels, who do we imagine ourselves to be?

Are we the disciples—the intimate companions of Christ who still struggle to understand him? Or the passersby, the minor characters who sometimes experience the fullest conversion of all after only a moment in his presence? Or those who persecute him, the ones who doubt him as the Son of God and neglect, or even oppose his ministry? Or do we imagine ourselves in the position of Christ himself?

Of course, we find ourselves in each of these roles at different times. One of the great features of the Christian faith is its deep relational character: We come to know and worship God through our interactions with other people. Our faith is further revealed through the texture of human interaction that fills the Gospels.

In today’s passage, we see a dynamic that is likely all too familiar in our own lives. Those who are closest to Jesus—the ones who grew up with him, who knew him when he was just another kid from the neighborhood—fail to see who he truly is. Paradoxically, Jesus’ message resonates more easily with complete strangers than his fellow Nazarenes.

I recognize this tendency in myself. At times, I am loath to listen to those closest to me, the very people I should probably listen to, and trust, the most. I’m reminded of times when I was a kid: on my best behavior during the school day or when visiting a friend’s house, just to become excessively cranky the second I climbed into my mom’s minivan. God forbid she earnestly ask how my day was; you would’ve thought she was shipping me off to a military academy, judging from my reaction.

So when Jesus says, “A prophet is not without honor except in his native place and among his own kin and in his own house” (Mark 6:4), I feel for all the mothers (prophets) who have dealt with difficult tween boys on the drive home from school. 

You could replace “prophet” with any of the many different roles we claim to value in the abstract but fail to honor in practice: parent, sibling, spouse, friend. Such treatment is often least noticed, and most damaging, when it is directed toward those closest to us.

Part of this is understandable: We let our guard down with those closest to us. We stop performing kindness or respect because we assume it is already understood. And there is something good about that. We don’t want our relationships to be built on pretense, and being able to be authentic, even when ugly, in the presence of others is part of real intimacy. (I’ve been binge-watching “Mad Men” recently, and watching Don Draper unravel as he drifts through life without ever truly being known by anyone really drives this point home.)

Still, there is a difference between authenticity and carelessness. We must balance a need to let our guards down with an effort to show respect to those who mean the most to us. 

As Christians, we rightfully think often about resisting our negative instincts toward strangers. Today, Jesus reminds us that we must also confront our negative tendencies towards those closest to us. Holiness begins on the car ride home.

Edward Desciak is an O'Hare Fellow at America Media.