by Fr. Gerry Pierse, C.Ss.R.

Scripture: Mark 9:30-37

The chubby Fr. Browne was the unlikely detective who solved the mysteries in many of G.K. Chesterton's stories. One such story was about a much loved and wealthy philanthropist. He was very popular because of his unfailing good humor and generosity. When people felt depressed they went to him and would come away feeling better. It was always assumed that he was one of the world's greatest optimists. His death then came as a shock - there must have been foul play. There were a number of suspects. But Fr. Browne surprised everyone when he announced the verdict. The man had committed suicide.

At first people would not believe it. How could such a happy man commit suicide? But soon it emerged that he was not a happy man at all. He tried to make others laugh to cover up the pain and loneliness inside himself. He was a deeply depressed and pessimistic man but tried to show that he was strong by his apparent humor. He got sucked into the role of being the funny man at an early age and did not have the courage to set himself free from it lest others would be disappointed in him. From playing a role he had become the role.

Again and again I hear people talk about being strong, praying for the grace to be strong. A group of nursing students facing ward duties, examinations, board exams and the struggle to go abroad, ask for strength. What they need is weakness! A wife in a marriage threatening difficulty prays for strength to face what is ahead but what she really needs is weakness. It takes great strength - the right kind of strength - to be weak. Many of us are like the amateur swimmer, who either out of fear or out of a desire to show off, exercises immense and exhausting energy in keeping head and shoulders above water. The smarter and more confident one rests effortlessly into the water letting the nose surface for breath from time to time. So too we need great strength to let go of all into the loving presence of God which supports us like water supports a swimmer.

The power of this world is the power of empire, of coercion. Can I put enough physical, economic or social pressure on this person or situation to make things go my way? This is seen in the bully in the school yard, in the authoritarian parent in the home, in the pressure from Rome that church people who do something new often suffer; in the boardrooms of corporations and in the negotiations between nations.

In today's Gospel Jesus knows that the disciples are arguing about who is greatest amongst them. Who has the most power? Jesus takes the power paradigm and puts it standing on its head. "He took a little child, set him in front of them, put his arms around him and said to them, "anyone who welcomes one of these little children in my name, welcomes me." The model of greatness in the kingdom of God is the powerless child. The child has no degrees, wealth, achievements - which we seek to make us "somebody" great, but which, in fact, make us rivals, competing and jealous of one another. We are constantly seeking things that divide us. But if we can accept the poverty, loneliness and insecurity that is within each of us, we will find ample ground for unity. When we are afraid - seeking power and strength and control - we cannot listen to each other. But when we really listen we will find what we all have in common - a frightened child within. Children have a fantastic capacity to communicate even without a common language and to forget and make-up quickly after a hurt. They have as yet no wealth, power, prestige, role, image that they have to defend or have become enslaved to.

Much of our traditional prayer is a sort of tour de force, on God - either trying to push him to do our will or to get him on our side to accomplish what we desire. To meditate, on the other hand, is to be weak and powerless, in the secure confidence of God's care and love for us. It gives us the joy of accepting our own weakness and of not having to pretend to be people other then who we actually are.