One of our society's greatest ills is a mortal fear of being weak, or vulnerable, or dependent on others. It goes against everything we are told is good for us: yet God tells St Paul "My grace is enough for you: my power is at its best in weakness." Our weakness, our woundedness, should not be a cause for fear or despair but for joy: in weakness God makes us into images of Jesus Christ suffering on the Cross, and allows us to have a share in His saving work. When we suffer, we should make it an offering for the salvation of souls, and allow God to do His work in us and through us.
The longest stretch of time I spent unemployed after graduation was three months: for a whole host of reasons I’d quit my job at a London children’s hospital and was looking to find a job closer to home in Southampton. Over the course of that three months I had quite a few interviews. No matter what job I was interviewing for, whether it was at a Law firm, or in the NHS, at least one interviewer asked the clichéd question to end all clichéd questions: so, what do you think is your biggest weakness?
Now, I don’t know anyone who answers that question honestly - everyone I’ve ever met comes up with some way or another to humblebrag and suggest they’re a terrible workaholic. They’ll say, I care too much, I work to hard, I get too passionate about my work - anything to avoid describing an actual weakness.
If our western culture suffers from anything today, it is an obsession with independence and self-reliance which breeds a mortal fear of weakness: we don’t want to be weak and we certainly don’t want to seem to be weak. So we project the opposite. We fill our social media with pictures that show only the good parts of our life, we avoid asking for help until we’re in a real mess. Part, I think, of what drives support for assisted suicide is the absolutely mortifying thought that one day we might be so weak that we rely entirely on the care of others to manage our pain and provide for our needs. People dread the loss of their strength, their vitality, and their independence so much that they would rather kill themselves than live with that loss and accept weakness.
This poison even affects the church - there are well known protestant pastors who preach what they call the ‘prosperity gospel’ - that God wants us to live a good life in the here and now, to have perfect health, and wealth, and social respect all the time. These are the pastors who brag about the big house and the private jets that God has provided for them.
St Paul answers us, in our fear of weakness, in today’s second reading:
to stop me from getting too proud I was given a thorn in the flesh, an angel of Satan to beat me and stop me from getting too proud!
St Paul, given so many gifts by the Lord, given an extraordinary mission from Him directly, needs a reminder of his weakness. When he asks that it be taken away, God replies “My grace is enough for you: my power is at its best in weakness.” My power is at its best in weakness.
St Paul was given several weaknesses – what he calls here the “angel of Satan” sent to beat him, as well as all the persecutions and material difficulties of his life, and even the Stigmata, the wounds of Christ; he says in his letter to the Galatians “I carry the wounds of Jesus branded on my body.” (Gal 6:17)
What does it mean, that God’s power is best in weakness?
When we are strong, when we are healthy, wealthy, and well respected, it is easy for the ego to get in God’s way: what do I need God for if I already have everything I could want? Weakness is different. Weakness empties out our ego and reminds us that everything is God’s gift and His gift alone: our talents come from Him and can be taken by Him, our health is his gift which can be easily withdrawn, our prosperity too (as much as we have to work for it) owes so much to God’s providence.
When we are strong our egos get in God’s way but when we are weak, and all our pretensions are stripped away, He can more perfectly come to live in us and we in Him because we have nothing left but what He offers – Faith, Hope, and Love. In weakness, we allow God to be strong, to act and move in us and make us what we are supposed to be. We are not meant for riches or fame or for any other good thing this world has to offer: we were made to be images of Jesus Christ, suffering on the Cross for the sake of the world. In weakness, God shapes us into that perfect image.
One of the most powerful things I’ve heard in a homily from another priest is this: “until you’re really trapped, you don’t realise how much you need a Saviour.” Perhaps this is why religious faith is strongest among those who are at rock bottom – recovering alcoholics and drug addicts, prisoners, those who are very sick. In today’s Gospel, Jesus is rejected – the people of His town refuse to believe in Him and as a result, for their lack of faith, St Mark says “He could work no miracle there.” Yet, even in the midst of such unbelief which stops Him from doing His great works among them, Jesus is still able to do one thing, “He cured a few sick people by laying His hands on them.”
Sickness is one of those graced times, when God allows us to suffer, so that He can remake us in the image of Christ, if we will let Him. We see this in so many of the saints, but one stands out above all the others as a perfect image: Saint Gemma Galgani. St Gemma suffered with sicknesses throughout her short life, which caused her many sufferings and disappointments which she offered up in union with the sufferings of Jesus, an offering for His Sacred Heart. In June 1899, aged just 21, she was given the Stigmata, the wounds of Jesus. Just four years later, at the age of 25 she was diagnosed with yet another illness; tuberculosis. It would be her last, and on Holy Saturday 1903 she died, the priest said
with a smile which remained upon her lips, so that I could not convince myself that she was really dead.
The message to take away from today is this: do not be afraid of sickness, or any other kind of hardship, and don’t see it as a punishment from God either. Instead, see it as a gift – when we are suffering (especially from sickness) we are being made into images of Jesus Christ on the Cross, and just like Jesus Christ on the Cross our suffering can be for the benefit of others. We may not receive the stigmata of Jesus, but in a spiritual sense we can carry His wounds and offer our sufferings for the salvation of others.
When we are strong, when we rely on ourselves, we get in the way and Jesus can work no miracle in us – when we allow ourselves to be weak, when we embrace our weakness without fear or despair, He can work in us the greatest miracle of all: the miracle of the Cross, the miracle of salvation.
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