A Homily for the Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time
Readings: 1 Samuel 26:2, 7-9, 12-13, 22-23 1 Corinthians 15:45-49 Luke 6:27-38
Have you ever been truly terrified? So frightened that you were unable to flee, even to move?
It was a regular occurrence for me in my 20s. I would awaken in what I thought was the middle of the night and find a black figure, entirely composed of shadow, standing at the foot of my bed.
I would try desperately to call out, but I was unable to speak. The sinister shadow would approach me. I tried to draw back, but I was unable to move. None of my muscles would respond. The figure would bring its face close to mine for what seemed like an eternity, as though feeding upon my terror.
Sometimes I was able to move, and then I found myself grappling with the intruder, whose size and strength parallelled my own. Even wrestling, I was stuck to the sinister shadow in fear. Could no one hear me, come to my aid? I never knew what would finally compel the figure to depart.
What is called sleep paralysis is common enough in young adults. Muscles relax when we sleep, so when a part of our brain thinks it is awake, it will find the body unresponsive, as though frozen.
At some point, I mentioned this recurring dream to my spiritual director, and he had a very helpful suggestion, drawn from the work of the famous psychoanalyst Carl Jung. The next time I found myself grappling with this figure made of shadows, I should grasp its dark face and pull, as though I were removing a mask.
I cannot say how much time passed before I did just that. Staring back at me was the blond-haired, blue-eyed face of another seminarian named Joe. He smiled at me and departed. “What does this mean?” I asked my spiritual director.
“Who is Joe to you?”
“That’s just it. Nobody really. I hardly know him.”
“What do you know about him?”
“That he’s the exact opposite of me. He makes everyone laugh, and he’s always laughing himself. He may be the most easygoing guy I’ve ever met.”
Spiritual directors tend to speak in the calmest of tones, and this response was no different. “He’s you. At least, he’s a side of you, an underdeveloped part of you that you want to embrace. Jung would say he’s the anima to your animus. Give yourself the freedom—at least try—to relax and be more easygoing. Your deeper self wants to be like Joe.”
The dreams ended.
Enemies take center stage in this Sunday’s readings. David is given the opportunity to kill King Saul, who is seeking his life, but he will not slay “the Lord’s anointed.” And in the Gospel, we read:
Jesus said to his disciples:
“To you who hear I say,
love your enemies, do good to those who hate you,
bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you” (Lk 6:27-28).
Enemies stand front and center in our cultural moment as well. We seem to be surrounded by foes, those who would do great harm to us and to our country. Political discourse between concerned citizens has given way to personal rancor between forsworn foes. Only our own side is to be trusted. The other side is evil incarnate, void of any good will or intention.
What does the Gospel say to us in our unique moment? How can the Savior deliver us from the foes who assail us?
He will do so, as he once did for me in spiritual direction, by delivering us from ourselves.
We think that the enemy stands over and against us, but the enemy lies within ourselves. We think that we know strangers, that we have weighed them and found them wanting, but much of what we know extends no further than our own selves. So much of what we find in those who are different from us is our own self, our prejudices and projections, our fears and failures.
The Lord is not asking us to turn scoundrels into saints. Sin and evil do exist outside us, and we rightly resist the same. But Christ does direct our attention to our own sinfulness.
Stop judging and you will not be judged.
Stop condemning and you will not be condemned.
Forgive and you will be forgiven (Lk 6:37).
Yes, evil must be resisted, but our Lord says that the battle must begin within ourselves. We cannot see the world from the Savior’s eyes, only from our own sinful sights. And if we are not redeemed from our own sinfulness, we will see evil everywhere.
Some terrors are self-inflicted. They arise from deep within us. If we are not healed there, we will contribute to the world’s sorrow by creating enemies, which is a way of being your own worst enemy. The next time your foe stands before your mind’s eyes, tug at the face. There may be a lot of you hidden beneath that mask.
