EXCERPT from VOYAGE


Paradox: The Name of the Game


   The deeper I submerge myself into this phenomenon called Christianity, the more I encounter paradox. Biblical writers often make statements and tell stories that seem self-contradictory or absurd. Then a bunch of people claim to unravel some part of the riddle found in these words and have the audacity to believe it means something infinitely important. According to them, the apparent contradictions and absurdities express viable truth. Whether or not this is fully the case, at least these riddles are potential mediums through which truth reaches into human experience. Paradox.

   As a participant in the cycle of the Church year, I notice that paradox shows up frequently in the liturgy of major feast days. Take the old man, Simeon, for example, a key player in the Presentation of Jesus at the Temple celebrated just after each New Year.  God gives Simeon a close connection with his Holy Spirit, who lets him know that he will not die before he has seen the Lord’s Messiah. St. Simeon waits and waits, hanging on.

   One morning, the Spirit propels him to go to the Temple in Jerusalem. At the same time, parents are bringing their infants to present them to the Lord. Simeon makes a beeline for a particular family, namely that of Joseph and Mary, and takes the tiny Jesus into his arms.

   “Here he is at last!” declares Simeon, “The consolation of Israel and salvation to the Gentiles.” What a huge order for a small package! Simeon is not only making a prediction, but also stating present reality. St. Augustine of Canterbury expresses it well, “The ancient Simeon bore in his arms the new-born Christ, and all the while, Christ ruled and upheld the old man.”  He holds what is a very little child on the outside, but on the inside of that child are held Simeon and by proxy, Jews, Gentiles, and all of creation. This marvel marks the ultimate paradox of Christianity. Through the Incarnation, the Son of God empties himself so that he may sustain all things.


   While musing on Jesus' presentation at the Temple and all that led up to that day, St. Ambrose in one of his sermons observes that God does not leave any gender, class, or human condition out of the possibility of being in the middle of life-giving paradox. Perhaps that is why St. Luke in the opening chapters of his Gospel takes pains to include an extraordinary mix of people and creatures who are present for the events surrounding Christ's birth.
A sterile woman bears;
an archangel announces;
a young virgin conceives;
an unborn child leaps for joy;
a doubting mute declares;
a carpenter sees visions;
a king is born in a cave;
a beast gives up her manger;
heavenly hosts sing;
sheep and herders are the first to know;
an anchorite widow prophesies;
and an old man finds what he’s been looking for.
   A part of me wants genuine Christianity to be orderly. I want the Lord to allow only the most consistent of its practitioners to be in charge of its ministry and for the rest of the followers to have most of their ducks in a row. Presumably then I would have an easier time of becoming a better Christian myself. After a few decades of fruitlessly hoping for this kind of Christianity and being perennially disappointed, I suspect it is time to let go. If I am to discover the true existence that I seek, I really do not have a choice. To anyone, and through anyone, whether I like it or not, God can show truth that leads to the redemptive Way.

   “Go ahead, Lynette,” Simon and all the cloud of St. Luke’s witnesses whisper, “plunge into the paradox.”
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