Be Open

Twenty-third Sunday of Ordinary Time

In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus tells us to let our light shine so that people may see what we do and give glory to God. But this week, in the Gospel of Mark (7:31-37), as Jesus heals a man who is deaf and unable to speak, not only does he take him aside to do it in private, he orders the man and his companions to keep it under their hats.

This little mashup of the synoptic Gospels thus presents us with the following Christological contradiction:

“No one lights a lamp to put it under a bushel basket. But don’t tell anyone what I just did.” [Exits out back door.]

I can understand, to a certain extent. For any number of reasons, he didn’t want the attention. But at the same time, I suspect that his doing it on the downlow gave his beneficiaries a certain amount of restless heartburn.

Let me explain what I mean with a real-life example:

At the beginning of each new school year, the school division in which I work has an Opening Day Mass and professional development gathering for our 2000+ staff members. We typically bring in distinguished speakers for the event, and in 2017, we had booked our high-profile keynote presenter months in advance. However, without warning that spring, education spending in the province was slashed by millions, and our school division was suddenly forced to make devastating staffing and programming decisions. In light of those awful circumstances, it was determined that we simply could not justify the expenses associated with bringing in an external presenter, so with great regret and sadness, we broke the contract and explained our reasons for doing so. In a spirit of immeasurable unselfishness and with a servant’s heart, that speaker responded by coming to us anyway… and she did it for free.

But she insisted on us not telling anyone. She didn’t want the attention, and she knew that her sacrifice would not go unnoticed by God. As it turned out, the message and ministry that she provided at our event that day was exactly what our reeling, devastated staff needed. But we had been sternly ordered not to divulge that she had waived her fee. We could thank her for coming, but we were not allowed to tell others of her generosity.

It was one of the most difficult secrets we had ever been asked to keep. Few people knew about it, but those of us who did never forgot it, and we made it our mission to bring her back again one day. That day was last week. And we decided that after seven years, the statute of limitations had run out on the secret we had been asked to keep. As we introduced her, we told our staff about her selfless gesture in 2017, and she received a standing ovation before she even spoke a word.  Tears flowed – hers and ours – and there was a collective exhale from those of us who had finally been allowed to thank her properly, and an inhale of pure Spirit on the part of some 2000 people who had just been profoundly touched by her no-longer-secret act of faithful servant leadership.

Show me a person devoted to their vocation, and I’ll show you someone who has done a ton of stuff without fanfare, and sometimes even tries to do it without being noticed. We’ve all done it from time to time, and often it’s because we don’t want or need the attention. And that’s fair. One of the hallmarks of a disciple really should be humility, anyway. And we also know that our Father in heaven, who sees everything that is done in secret, will reward us. But if another hallmark of Christian discipleship is relationship, then this little ‘doing things in secret’ thing can actually put a stick in the spokes.

I get it, sometimes we just want to fly under the radar. But when we do, it denies others the opportunity to show their appreciation. If we turn it into a one-way street, it deprives others of a chance for reciprocity, even if all they can give back is gratitude. We say, “I don’t need to be thanked,” and that may well be true… but what if someone needs to thank us? What if we touched them so deeply that they want others to know just how blessed they’ve been by our ministry?

Personally… as uncomfortable as it can be for us… I think we owe them that.

If we are true to our vocation and discipleship, no matter how hard we try to cover it up, the light that shines from us will burn the bushel basket to cinders sooner or later. And so it should. Not for our own glory, but for God’s and for the sake of relationship with the people we serve. In Jesus’ case, the more he told people not to tell them, the more zealously they proclaimed it. In our speaker’s case, it took seven years, but people found out about what she did. And in both cases, the gratitude flowed. And the relationship grew. And God was glorified.

Jesus said to the man, “Ephphatha… be opened.” Perhaps that should go for us, too. Our inclination may still be to keep a profile so low it’s nearly underground… but once in awhile, may we be open to the idea of letting someone thank us for our ministry. And let God be glorified in that.

By Darcie Lich