Lack of self-confidence and poor self-esteem appear to be the twin scourges of modernity. Could it be that we have conflated self-worth with achievement? If you are unable to do anything, you are useless and you might as well not live. Fused into our notion of a person is the important criterion of utility. The prized individuality we seek, which we think ultimately defines us, has been hijacked, in a manner of speaking, by a need to prove or make a name for ourselves. Is it a wonder that the old and aged are apprehensive when they have outlived their usefulness? Here again, we encounter an amnesia that we are a reflexion of who God is—ours is an unmerited “imago Dei”. The image of God, not what we are capable of, is the basis for our unique individuality.
Self-worth or self-esteem are funny concepts to grapple with. Present practice is not to admonish children or employees in full view of others because we recognise that public dressing down can affect one’s future performance—akin to PTSD. There was a time when parents would pinched their children for fidgeting during Mass. Today some parents allow their children the full expression of their enthusiasm believing that unfettered freedom essential to the full flowering of their creativity and talents. This is not a criticism of parenting style but an acknowledgement that a modicum of self-confidence is needed for a person to flourish.
What is ironical is that self-esteem does not seem to be in short supply when we consider how, for a select few, the confessional is the place to proclaim and declare their sanctity. “I have not committed any sins and in fact I have been good. I do not know what sins to confess”. This is not pride and not even a lack of humility but more an expression of the loss of the true sense of self before God.
What is the difference between our “distorted” sense of “self-confidence” and these great prophets and saints’ self-abnegation? We may miss the subtle difference in our rush to embrace the mission entrusted to us by God because we are to task-focused or task-oriented. There is a mechanical or programmed quality to the way we conceive of our vocation. The notion that “there is a job to be done” fits into our pragmatic, productive and performance psyche. Contrast our calculative and control criteria with the 2nd Reading of last Sunday. Paul spoke of love. What was central to the vocation of the Prophets like Jeremiah and Isaiah, the Apostles like Peter and Paul was not their credentials, capability or competence. At the heart of their ministry was not duty but devotion indicating that everything we do must be marked by love.
Here we are not speaking of the love we are accustomed to hearing from popular music or watching romantic movies. Instead, it was love that occasioned Isaiah’s declaration of self-contempt. However, this unworthiness is less about Isaiah’s self-estimation but more a profound realisation that in God’s holiness he gasped in shame at his own poverty. So, “I am a man of unclean lips” was not self-denigration but instead, it pointed to God who should be his everything and to himself, the remorse that he has not love God enough. When our heart is bursting with love for God, we will never stand before Him feeling worthy and that is not an indication of the lack of self-esteem. Rather, it is a liberating recognition how much more one ought to love God.
Vocation in an era delineated by self-definition, meaning that one’s status or stature is established through self-manufacture, the mission of God is going to be conflated with one’s personality. Mission and personality are not mutually exclusive, in the sense that Jeremiah the prophet was shy and St Jerome was belligerent and yet one spoke and the other translated God’s word. What is damaging is when personality takes precedence over the mission. This can be noticed in the liturgy where many instances of “saying the black and doing the red” feel inadequate. For example, the introductory greeting “The grace of the Lord Jesus, the love of God and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you” sounds rather formulaic and therefore not personal enough. After this scriptural salutation, the celebrant injects a personal hello with a “Good morning” and the congregation responds with a “Good morning, Father”.
Jeremiah, Isaiah, Peter, Paul and countless saints made a name for themselves by putting God’s will first. Their singular passion flowed from their intimate relationship with God. No doubt they had a mission to accomplish and they set their hearts on it but it was always “Zeal for your house will consume me”. For them, the mission was not a task because it flowed from the love for God.
Thus, the criteria of success or achievement or competences are not measures of our love for God. It is not how much we can do that proves our love for God. Instead, an inability to sense our unworthiness could be a sign that we may have accepted performance indices as the keys to the success of our mission. Where is the love? Think of the older brother in the parable of the Prodigal Son. He did a lot for the father but it was out of resentful duty.
St Ignatius makes the connexion between love and action by asking these relevant questions.
What have I done for Christ?
What am I doing for Christ?
What will I do for Christ?
These questions may fall into the category of “doing” more than they express our love for Christ. But they are not mere questions from the perspective of “utility” or “achievement”. Rather, given that we love Jesus, then what will we do for Him, mindful that we are at the same time, unworthy. Take the example of Peter. In fishing, he was a man over-confident in his experience. In eagerness, he falters as he steps into the raging seas. In bravado, he overstated his courage to follow Jesus. In defence, he overstepped his mandate by cutting off Malthus’ ear. In Peter’s life, we begin to appreciate that mission is not just a task or burden laid on our shoulders, although in reality, it always feel like that. Instead mission is love as witnessed by Peter’s impulsive leap into the water half-dressed in order to get to the Lord whom he had come to love and would ultimately lay down his life for. It was a realisation that his desires and actions could never exhaust the love for God that he cried his own unworthiness: Leave me Lord, for I am a sinful man.
Staying on the theme of mission and merit has been good for it allows us to appreciate what should animate our vocation. The pandemic has removed the burden of duty or obligation and instead it has allowed for a possibility that our obligation flows into devotion or love. For now, in this Diocese, there remains no obligation to attend Mass. Devotion or love is why we come to Church and not duty or obligation. May this devotion lead us into a deeper passion for Jesus our Lord which allows for a fuller embrace of our vocation—to be the best of who we can be for Him, for His Church, for our country and for humanity.
