Armand Nigro SJ
Jesus suggested that we spend an hour together. It was an exciting offer, so I began preparing several days in advance: I reviewed my seminary course on Christology and re-read a recently published book on process theology, as well as leafing through another book on liberation theology. I did not want to raise suspicion that I had forgotten some of it. I also re-read all four Gospels in case Jesus mentioned something from the past that is recorded there. One can never know.
I also cleaned my cell (which I do every day anyway), as Jesus specifically requested that our meeting take place there and not in the chapel or at some neutral location.
When Jesus entered, I fell to my knees and began to kiss his hands, but he lifted me up and said, “Can’t we just sit here together for a while?”
I was completely taken aback and didn’t know how to start the conversation. Jesus read my thoughts and prompted me. “Relax! I just want to be here with you and enjoy the view from your window. The river and the horizon in the background are especially beautiful today.”
I couldn't believe my ears. If I, a person who is incredibly busy, cannot afford to waste time like this, how much more busy must he be! And I had so many important things to accomplish during this hour. I truly wanted to make the most of this opportunity. But Jesus just sat there quietly, with his hand resting on my shoulder.
“Lord,” I ventured to break the silence, “what is your position on the Christological dispute regarding to what extent you were aware of your divinity and your future life before your death and resurrection?” “What does that have to do with the fact that we are here enjoying this beautiful view together?” Jesus asked me.
Another silence. I felt embarrassed. I reached for the book on process theology and remarked, “This book contains really important material on the development of consciousness and…” “What does that have to do with our time together?” Jesus interrupted me. “Do you like the clouds and the roaring river as created by my Father?”
Again silence.
I opened the book on liberation theology. “How can we authentically proclaim your Gospel, Lord, to people who are slaves under oppressive economic and social structures?” “You have yet to forgive the brother just a few doors down the hall, and you haven’t allowed me to eradicate your anger and your unjust judgment of him, am I right?” Jesus replied. “That is not an answer to my question, Lord.” “Your question has nothing to do with the precious time we are spending together that you are wasting.”
Silence.
“Are you satisfied with the resolutions of the Second Vatican Council and their consequences, Lord?” “How do you see them?” Jesus countered. “Of course positively… some new ideas and changes are indeed good, but I believe some liberals have gone too far, and others on the right wing of conservatives are hindering development and their thinking is not in line with the Church’s direction.” “You are utterly impossible,” Jesus laughed. “Can you not enjoy just a few minutes of friendly sitting with me without wanting to extract some new perspectives for your boring… or pardon, excellent… lectures?”
“Lord, you are putting me in a difficult position. I learned to meditate thirty-four years ago in the novitiate. And since then I have only been studying and studying. So I’m not exactly a beginner in all this. Do you understand?” “I admit you are not a beginner… you are just a bit clumsy… and foolish. But I still love you.”
That helped, but not for long.
Again silence. My gaze fell on the shelf that I had forgotten to dust, on a letter I needed to respond to, and I remembered that I had to prepare for the next lecture. I was getting increasingly distracted. “Lord, would you like a glass of juice or something? I’ll go get it for you, I’ll be back in a minute.” “And what would I do for that minute while you are gone? Above all, I wish to simply sit here with you.”
Silence.
“Do you love me?” Jesus suddenly asked. “Lord, you know everything. You know that I love you.” “It warmed my heart when Peter answered me like that,” Jesus nodded. “But what about you, do you mean it for real?” “Of course, one hundred percent,” I defended myself, “but honestly… you are not making it easy for me.” “You are complicating everything,” Jesus argued. “I want to spend an hour with you here, to share my presence with you and assure you of my love. You don’t have to entertain me at all while we are together. Just be here with me, do you understand?”
Again silence.
“Who do you think I am?” Jesus asked after a moment and lightly tapped me on the shoulder.
“Lord, I completely agree with our leading theologians who say that… yes, that you are the eschatological manifestation of the essence of our being; that you are the incarnate Word of God; that you are our ultimate charism and the perfect revelation of the trinitarian, christological, soteriological, antithetical, and ecclesial mysteries of our life.”
It took a long while for Jesus to exclaim: “What?” then he burst out laughing, threw his head back, and pulled me into a strong hug. “You are utterly impossible! But I still love you.”
Jesus was leaving, but he laughed all the way down the long corridor. Honestly, it didn’t seem to me that there was anything particularly funny about it. For several minutes, I watched him through the window and felt completely taken aback, but then I returned to the important matters on my desk, where a lot of work awaited me.
And then I felt how I missed him…
When I asked one of my friends why he considers it so important to regularly insert moments of silence into the flow of his work-filled life, he replied: I do not insert them; I simply give them priority over everything else. First, I allocate time for silence and prayer within my possibilities. Silence is a part of my daily life just as meal times, which also need their time. Silence and stillness provide me with inner harmony and help me prioritize between things and phenomena. Everything I feel needs to be done is not really that important. Much more important is what God wants to do with me. I do not seek solitude or silence for its own sake. After all, I am never alone. I simply release time for someone who is waiting for me.
From the Swedish magazine KARMEL
translated by Dagmar Chvojková
