In the face of the unexpected, tragic events of life, we often experience fear, a lack of understanding, confusion, a loss of a sense of direction and a feeling of isolation from those around us. The Gospel of this 25th Sunday of the year draws us into an experience like this in the life of Jesus and his disciples.

Jesus moves away from the crowds bringing his disciples with him on a journey through Galilee to Capernaum, to take time alone with them, to prepare them for the mission he will entrust to them. There is a sense of urgency in the text. Time is running out for Jesus and what he has to tell the disciples is difficult and will no doubt be very disturbing for them. Jesus says he himself “will be delivered into the hands of men, they will put him to death” Imagine how overwhelming and frightening that statement by Jesus was for the disciples. Jesus goes on to say, “three days after he has been put to death he will rise again”.

Their response is a very human one, the disciples were lost for words. They didn’t understand what Jesus said and even more surprising, they were afraid to ask him anything. It appears nothing of this message made sense to them. One wonders, what if anything, ran through their minds on hearing all of this. Did they even recall that Jesus had already told them about his impending death on a previous occasion, Mk 8:31. Had they blotted it out of their memory?

We know this kind of experience in our own lives, we fail to grasp the reality of a particularly painful situation, we may even blot it out, or like the disciples are afraid to ask the questions which might clarify things for us or maybe demand something from us. We are not told how Jesus felt but we can imagine he felt very much alone.

Jesus remains faithful, he stays with them and leads them towards a house in Capernaum, which tradition tells us was possibly Peter’s family home. This would have been a more intimate space, more conducive to opening up their understanding of what true discipleship meant. On their way to this place the disciples were arguing among themselves about which of them was the greatest. When they reached the house where they were staying, Jesus asked them what they had been speaking about along the way. Again, they remained silent. Jesus may well have heard what they had been discussing.

However, he didn’t challenge them but respected their silence and being a teacher par excellence, he used this opportunity to teach them the true meaning of greatness. Jesus taught them not with a thousand words but rather with a simple gesture, one, I imagine they wouldn’t forget too easily. He brought a child among them, honouring the child’s human dignity with an embrace, Jesus goes way beyond this when he tells the disciples; ‘Anyone who welcomes one of these little children in my name, welcomes me, and anyone who welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.’ The child is among the community of the disciples and Jesus makes clear to them; greatness is found not in power but in humble service; service to the most vulnerable, the outsider, those without a voice. Jesus embraces all, welcomes all. Those who profess to follow him are called to do likewise.

Part of the beauty of this text is watching the depth of the relationship Jesus had with his disciples; a relationship that is open and honest, compassionate, sensitive, gentle and challenging, with a deep underlying trust in those whom he has called to preach the liberating Word of God.

The key to understanding how Jesus faced the challenges in his own life was his utter trust in God, his Father. The response to the psalm wonderfully proclaims that confidence and that trust. In the face of adversity and of crisis in our own lives can we today, like the psalmist, proclaim with sincerity and with faith: The Lord upholds my life. Jesus said ‘Anyone who welcomes one of these little children in my name, welcomes me, and anyone who welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me’.

Caitríona Gorman, OP