This past week I was helping my sister and brother in law weed out blackberry bramble behind their house. I had scratches all over my arms – those blackberry thorns are something else. I was thinking of them when I read about St. Paul’s thorn in the flesh this week.
What was the “thorn in the flesh” that he spoke of?
Some have speculated that it was some kind of temptation, particularly of an immodest nature. However, the fathers of the church were more likely to see it as some kind of physical ailment, such as a speech impediment, poor eyesight, or other kind of sickness. Others speculated that the thorn might have been of a spiritual nature, literally some kind of demonic attack that he had to face. In the end it is hard to know, and I don’t think it really matters what the thorn was, as much as it matters what St. Paul did about it, and how he teaches us to handle thorns as Christian men and women.
Because we all face thorns in life: maybe they are physical weaknesses or illnesses, maybe moral temptations and struggles, maybe conflicted and dysfunctional social dynamics. Not a one of us is spared of weakness, in one form or another, in one chapter of life or another. Life, in many ways, is made up of chapters of greater and lesser strength and weakness. Even a given day can be made up of moments of strength and weakness. And how much our perspective on ourselves and on the world around us can change depending upon which moment we are living through:
When we are strong, we are inclined toward confidence.
When we are weak, we are inclined to lose confidence.
When we are strong, we are inclined to be optimistic.
When we are weak, we are inclined to be pessimistic.
When we are strong, we are inclined to be engaged and loyal.
When we are weak, we are inclined to separate ourselves and rebel.
Think for a moment about your experience: the exact same relationship or experience can be changed from a blessing to a curse depending on whether you are coming from a place of strength or weakness. Strength seems to be like the sun, bringing light to every experience, whereas weakness like a dark night that harbors every sort of misery.
And so if God wants to draw the best from us, would it not seem logical that he should lead us from strength to strength, helping us to avoid weakness because of how it opens the door for evil and temptation in life? If he wants us to be in heaven with him, why would he not pave the path to get there with strong and smooth stones, rather than making us bushwhack through a bramble?
I imagine that this was a question on the lips of St. Paul, as he struggled with the thorns of his life – and it is a question that all of us confront, and sometimes many times in one day. Why the weakness, why the struggle? What is the purpose?
Fortunately for all of us, St. Paul received an answer directly from Jesus in his prayer, and he has handed on the answer that he received to us. Jesus told him “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.”
“Power is made perfect in weakness.” What does that mean?
What would make power perfect? I think we know this without a doubt, for we know that God, being all powerful, is also all loving. What makes his power perfect is that it is the manifestation of his love. Without love, power is evil. With love, power is sacred. And what fills power with love? Weakness.
Think about that for a moment in your life. I think about my life. The times when I have had more power – how easy it was for that power to change my perspective and make me less inclined to be compassionate, considerate, thoughtful. It was easy to walk all over people – many times without even noticing. To be oblivious to the way that my actions were affecting others.
And then I think of times when I have been weak, battling through the thorns. And how in that weakness the true humanity of others, how we are all so intimately connected to each other and our actions can have such powerful affects, became much more apparent to me. In weakness, the work of grace in the world and my reliance upon God's grace also became much clearer – and the ways that God’s grace was being obstructed by myself and others. In a moment of weakness, haven't you found yourself saying things like “When I am strong again I want to remember what this feels like, what it feels like to be on the other end, what it feels like to be weak.”
Think for a moment:
Who better to feed the hungry, than one who has been hungry?
Who better to visit those in prison, than one who was in prison?
Who better to provide shelter, than one who has been homeless?
Who better to welcome the stranger, than one who has been a foreigner?
Who better to rule a country, than one who has been a slave?
Who better to go to war, than one who has been shot at?
Who better to forgive sins, than one whose sins have been forgiven?
Who better to bring salvation and new life to all people, than one who because of sin has been condemned and killed?
Power is made perfect in weakness, for through weakness God’s grace fills power with love. Christ reveals this way of perfection through his own weakness on the cross, in the flesh, today in the form of simple bread and wine. Through his vulnerability among us in the Eucharist he perfects his strength within us to serve our Heavenly Father and brothers and sisters.
In the Gospel just proclaimed we hear about Jesus’ visit to his home town. His old friends and relatives could not see how an all-powerful God could be manifest in such a lowly way. They could not accept that the king of the universe would be crowned, not with the smooth, hard, glittering ring of gold, but with a tangled braid of thorns. They couldn’t believe that the holiest face to every walk this earth would be gentle enough to be pierced by a crown of thorns, and his Most Sacred Heart open enough to be pierced by a lance.
We are also members of Jesus’ family. This is his home. He comes to visit you and I today in this Eucharist. Does he visit a rebellious people, like those to whom Ezekiel was sent: a proud people he described as “hard of face and obstinate of heart?” Are we a people who frown upon weakness? A people who resent weakness? A people who are afraid of weakness? Or is this a people who, with St. Paul and all the saints, have learned to follow Christ through the brambles of life, knowing that through the thorns he is perfecting his power within us?
If we have, our lives should show something that is the exact opposite of the world around us: when we are weak, we should be at our best. When we are weak, we should be most confident, most hopeful, most full of faith and drawn together in love for one another. When we are weak we should be most at peace. That’s what an authentic Christian community looks like: it doesn’t just survive weakness: it thrives in it. As St. Paul tells us today: when I am weak, I am strong. A crown of thorns is an honor for those who follow Christ. For power is made perfect in weakness.
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