After Julian of Norwich encountered Jesus in her near-death experience, she wrote down what happened and continued to reflect on the revelations of Christ’s love that she received. Then she wrote about these “showings.” That got me thinking: what if I considered my encounters with Jesus on my eight-day retreat in the same way?
Most profound was the moment I was in the boat after Jesus rescued me from drowning. In a gospel contemplation of the story of Jesus walking on water, I stepped out of the boat and a few minutes later plunged into the sea. After my rescue, both of us were sopping wet. Jesus was hugging me as tears rolled down his cheeks. He said, “I thought I’d lost you.”
As I reflected on that moment, what stood out for me most, and I will write about this later, is the depth of his love for me. But what didn’t make sense was how Jesus could think he lost me. As God, he would know that I was never lost to him—not geographically, eschatologically, or relationally for “in God, we live and move and have our being” and there is nowhere I can go that God is not there. I’m not God, and even I know this is an irrational fear.
There was the insight. Jesus, in his humanity, was capable of irrational fear.
Jesus could and can feel all the heights and depths of emotion we feel despite being rooted and grounded in God. It could explain why he cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
The thought that Jesus’ love for me (and everyone) is so intense that it includes the irrational fear of losing us teaches me two things. I learn that irrational fears are not immediately cast out by rational thought or deep faith. So we can let ourselves off the hook. We aren’t doing anything wrong or need to judge ourselves as immature when we have these fears. They are a part of being human.
The apostle John wrote, “Perfect love casts out fear” and I think the “casting out” is a process. When in the grip of debilitating fear, if we don’t panic, as James Finley says, we will see glimpses of Light and be found by grace.
As I sit with the reality that Jesus had irrational fears, I realize he too must have experienced childhood trauma. Setting aside the argument about whether his mother Mary was sinless or not, Jesus could have been deeply wounded by others he trusted who didn’t/couldn’t understand him. How could he not be traumatized by the flight to Egypt or the massacre of the innocents? As I recall, in Scattered Minds, Gabor Maté writes that when the Jews were persecuted in Hungary, his mother called the doctor because Gabor wouldn’t stop crying to nurse. The doctor told her this was happening to many other nursing babies as well. They felt the trauma in their little bodies. Jesus would have too. Like all of us, he must have been emotionally scarred by life circumstances and/or the cruelty of others.
I am so grateful for the humanity of Jesus. I’m grateful that he knows what it’s like to feel pain and be gripped by fear. I’m grateful that his promise to be with me always is filled with his passion and compassionate presence.
The Word became flesh and blood,
and moved into the neighbourhood.
–John 1:14 (MSG)
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In Finley’s podcasts on Julian, he reminds us that “showings” are not limited to near-death experiences (and I would add, or eight-day retreats). They can come in ordinary moments given to us by grace. “Notice what you notice,” Father Elton Fernandes, SJ would say when I was praying the Ignatian Exercises Retreat in Daily Life, “and return to them.” What is God, who knows every detail of your life, inviting you to feel and know?
What love mischief are you and God doing for the world?
Let me know, and I will include it in an upcoming post.
Credits and References:
Jesus on the cross from Pixabay Creative Commons
Photo of me (bottom right) with my family at Niagara Falls before my youngest brother was born.
“Sitting in silence” by Alice Popkorn. Used with permission.
An Everyday Pilgrim 
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