Rest

Dear brothers and sisters, good afternoon!

Jesus’s attitude that we observe in the Gospel of today’s liturgy (Mk 6:30-34) helps us to grasp two important aspects of life. The first is rest. To the Apostles returning from the labours of the mission who enthusiastically begin to relate everything they had done, Jesus tenderly directs this invitation to the Apostles: “Come away by yourselves to a lonely place, and rest a while” (v. 31). An invitation to rest.

In so doing, Jesus gives us a valuable teaching. Even though he rejoices on seeing his disciples’ happiness due to the wonders of their preaching, he does not spend time giving them compliments or asking questions. Rather, he is concerned about their physical and interior tiredness. And why does he do this? Because he wants to make them aware of a danger that is always lurking there for us too: the danger to be caught up in the frenzy of doing things, to fall into the trap of activism where what is most important are the results that we obtain and the feeling of being absolute protagonists. How many times this happens in the Church: we are busy, we run around, we think that everything depends on us and, in the end, we risk neglecting Jesus and we always make ourselves the centre. This is why He invites His disciples to rest a bit with Him on their own. It is not only physical rest, but also rest for the heart. For it is not enough to “unplug” ourselves, we need to truly rest. And how do we do this? To do so, we must return to the heart of things: to stop, to remain in silence, to pray so as not to go from the frenzy of work to the frenzy of times of relaxation. Jesus did not neglect the needs of the crowd, but each day, before anything else, he would withdraw in prayer, in silence, in intimacy with the Father. His tender invitation – rest a while – should accompany us. Let us beware, brothers and sisters, of efficiency, let us put a halt to the frantic running around dictated by our agendas. Let us learn how to take a break, to turn off the mobile phone, to contemplate nature, to regenerate ourselves in dialogue with God.

Nonetheless, the Gospel tells us that Jesus and his disciples could not rest as they had wished. The people find them and flock to them from all sides. At which point, he is moved with compassion. This is the second aspect: compassion, which is God’s style. God’s style is to draw near, compassion and tenderness. How many times we find this phrase in the Gospel, in the Bible: “He had compassion on them”. Touched, Jesus dedicates himself to the people and begins to teach again (cf. vv. 33-34). This seems to be a contradiction, but in reality, it is not. In fact, only a heart that does not allow itself to be taken over by hastiness is capable of being moved; that is, of not allowing itself to be caught up in itself and by things to do, and is aware of others, of their wounds, their needs. Compassion is born from contemplation. If we learn to truly rest, we become capable of true compassion; if we cultivate a contemplative outlook, we will carry out our activities without that rapacious attitude of those who want to possess and consume everything; if we stay in touch with the Lord and do not anesthetise the deepest part of ourselves, the things to do will not have the power to cause us to get winded or devour us. We need – listen to this – we need an “ecology of the heart”, that is made up of rest, contemplation and compassion. Let us take advantage of the summer time for this! It will help us quite a bit.

And now, let us pray to the Madonna, who cultivated silence, prayer and contemplation and who is always moved with tender compassion for us, her children.

18.07.21

Dear brothers and sisters, happy Sunday!

The Gospel of today's liturgy (Mk 6:30-34) tells us that the apostles gather around Jesus after returning from their mission. They tell Him what they have accomplished. He then says to them, “Come away by yourselves to a deserted place and rest a while.” (v. 31). However, the people understand where they are headed and, when they get off the boat, Jesus finds the crowd waiting for Him. He feels compassion for them, and He begins to teach (cf. v. 34).

So, on the one hand, there is an invitation to rest, and on the other, Jesus’ compassion for the crowd. It is very beautiful to stop in order to meditate on Jesus’ compassion. These may seem like two incompatible things, while they actually go together: resting and being compassionate. Let us look more closely.

Jesus is concerned about the disciples’ tiredness. Perhaps He is aware of a danger that can also concern our lives and our apostolate. This danger can threaten us when, for instance, our enthusiasm in carrying out our mission or our work, as well as the roles and tasks entrusted to us, make us fall victims to a kind of activism which is overly concerned with things to do and with results, and this is a bad thing. We become overly preoccupied with the things to be done, overly preoccupied with results. It then happens that we become agitated and lose sight of what is essential. We risk exhausting our energies and falling into bodily and spiritual fatigue. This is an important warning for our life and for our society which is often held prisoner by haste, but also for the Church and pastoral service: brothers and sisters, let us beware of the dictatorship of doing! And this can also happen out of necessity, within our families, for example when the father has to be away for work to earn a living, thus having to sacrifice the time he could have spent with the family. Often, parents leave early in the morning when the children are still sleeping and return late in the evening when they are already in bed. And this is a social injustice. In families, fathers and mothers should have time to share with their children, to let love grow within their family and in order not to fall into the dictatorship of doing. Let us think about what we can do to help people who are forced to live in this way.

At the same time, the rest proposed by Jesus is not an escape from the world, a retreat into a merely personal well-being. On the contrary, when He is confronted with the bewildered people, He feels compassion. And so, from the Gospel, we learn that these two realities—resting and being compassionate—are linked: only if we learn how to rest can we have compassion. Indeed, it is only possible to have a compassionate gaze, which knows how to respond to the needs of others, if our heart is not consumed by the anxiety of doing, if we know how to stop and how to receive the Grace of God, in the silence of adoration.

Therefore, dear brothers and sisters, we can ask ourselves: am I able to stop during my days? Am I capable of taking a moment to be with myself and with the Lord, or am I always in a hurry, in a constant hurry for the things to do? Can we find some kind of an "inner desert" amidst the noise and activities of each day?

May the Holy Virgin help us to "rest in the Spirit" even in the midst of all daily activities, and to be available to and compassionate towards others.

21.07.24