Who Do You Serve?
Father Anthony Giambrone, O.P. wrote a Magnificat essay about Peter’s shadow, which just so happened to heal those thronging about him after Jesus’ death and resurrection. Our monthly guide through the more whimsical elements of the Bible acknowledges folklore motifs in the Good Book, but reminds us not to conflate the Bible itself with folklore, writing, “It is important to unlearn the assumptions of our disenchanted world if we hope to approach a story like Acts 5: 12–16 correctly.”
In other words, let us not forget that the world is one of objects and actions, that meaning attaches to all we encounter. (I’ll come back to this.)
According to Father Giambrone (and I should certainly not be surprised by this), ancient societies attributed power to shadows, whether the length of one’s shadow indicated health issues, or losing one’s shadow meant certain death, or that the shadows of particular trees conferred either benefits or detriments.
The essay caught my attention because it circles me back to Camille Paglia and Jordan Peterson and the things of heaven and earth that Horatio and mercenary scientists dismiss as nonsense. They are anything but, for without the stories that attach to things, life has no meaning. Jesus is just a man who walked the earth a little more than 2,000 years ago if we look only for “objective” or “physical” evidence of His story and then file it away with other quaint notions or probable happenings from the past. Meaning informed and directed the lives of individuals before any of them could write down and leave behind evidence of their existence, and meaning continues to inform and direct our lives, whether we recognize it or not. So, the question becomes: what or Who infuses my being, my encounters with the world around me, with meaning?
“Attentiveness is the natural prayer of the soul.” —Malabranche
Until a few minutes ago, I could not have told you who Nicolas Malebranche was, even though I’m sure I’ve looked him up in the past. Somewhere along the line, I came across this sentence of his and wrote it in a commonplace book, then eventually copied it to Evernote. It has resurfaced, but before I proceed, I should, perhaps, provide a clue about the author’s identity. According to Wikipedia, Malebranche was a French Oratorian priest and rationalist philosopher of the seventeenth century who tried to synthesize the theology of Saint Augustine with the thoughts of René Descartes in order to demonstrate the role of God in every aspect of the world. Interesting, and it certainly fits with the quote.
How often do we pay attention to attentiveness—especially these days, when seemingly every moment is spoken for? What happens when we can’t give the important aspects of life the consideration they deserve? Do we rush past the the flower growing through a crack in the sidewalk and never even catch a glimpse of God? Do we cut down the nearly dead tree that threatens the backyard fence and split it into firewood before taking the time to appreciate the beautiful patterns that are no longer hidden within a protective coating of bark? Do we get so wrapped up in what we think is important that we fail to even notice the sweet, innocent, funny, and perfectly insightful words of a four-year-old who has gotten a little mixed up in trying to explain something?
What did Father Giambrone write again? “It is important to unlearn the assumptions of our disenchanted world.” The social engineers of our disenchanted world do everything in their power to dull our attentiveness. They want us asleep; entertained to death; pumped so full of fear, we can’t think straight; or uncertain about what’s as clear as day. They want to undermine our confidence in God, or obscure Him so thoroughly that we never even guess at His existence. Why? Could it be because those who are loyal to God will serve no other masters?
