A few weeks ago Adam was talking about the disconcerting way Jesus appeared to the disciples, had a conversation, and then disappeared again. He did it several times. At first glance, it seems arbitrary, but if you look at it closely in the original texts, it becomes clear that Jesus only merges into the background of ordinary life, when someone has recognized Him. And once he has been affirmed by this person (be it Thomas with “My Saviour and my God” or the disciples walking to Emmaus, for whom the breaking of bread at supper is the Eureka moment), Jesus behaves as though his work is done at this point, and we are told that what happens is that the Holy Spirit takes over. Jesus says it himself - “The words I have given you are spirit and they are life”.
Like Christ Jesus, the Holy Spirit has been present since the beginning of time, as a benediction on the waters of Creation, or as the divine breath breathed on the disciples, gathered in an upper room; locked, for fear of the Jews. The fluidity of his appearances is well known, but as St Peter's letters indicate, it is the same spirit all the same, inspiring many in different ways, through particular gifts.
This flexibility, the almost unpredictable nature of the inspiration which is given to us, creates a difficulty for those who expect life to be all a matter of set patterns and rules. The Holy Spirit has no time for ticking boxes. The very distinguished but also very maverick theologian Yves Congar remarked at the end of the great Council Vatican 2 that there was no sign in all its wonderful works of a theology of the Holy Spirit. The spirit blows where it listeth, and few theologians can keep pace. Some of the best illustrations of the Spirit at work can be found in the conversations of Jesus with people he met and instructed, as reported in the Gospels. The longer the reported interview, the more twists and turns in the unfolding of the argument; I'm thinking of the conversations with Nicodemus, or the woman of Samaria at the well. It becomes a well of salvation in Jesus' expert hands.
So inspiration is not inconsistent with itself, but it is extremely changeable, and liable to turn down apparent side tracks in order to come at a subject from a new perspective. Inspiration can come at any moment of the day, often when we are not really prepared to listen: not carefully, anyway. If I am looking for inspiration, as I have been, preparing this morning's talk, I find that early in the morning, after a good sleep has rested my mind and before the preoccupations of everyday problems come flooding back, there's a window of opportunity for inspiration to arrive, in the usual unexpected camouflage, an apparently random thought or phrase which suddenly acquires meaning and depth: help to resolve today's conundrums or yesterday's disasters.
And often inspiration comes from people I know and admire: not celebrities in the public eye, but dear ones who are selfless in their friendships, dutiful in their worship, real in their appreciations and enthusiasms. Some of them have passed on, but their memory continues to give inspiration never the less. This is surely a sign of a life which was worth living, which still has value, and which can inspire us to be prepared to give up our lives ourselves, if extreme circumstances demand even that sacrifice.
Inspiration has a lot to answer for – and a lot to give. Alleluia !
Gavin May 2024
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