In my recent research into athazagoraphobia (the fear that you are forgetting something or someone, as well as the fear of being forgotten), I happened to come across the term anatidaephobia. Anatadaephobia is supposedly the fear that somewhere, somehow a duck is watching you. Is this a real fear or not? The term was coined in a cartoon by Gary Larsen, so some people say that it is a joke. But of course that’s easy for you to say since you don’t have ducks watching you day and night.
The bigger joke is that these days, of course, you can add any Latin or Greek-sounding word as a prefix to “phobia” and thereby pathologize nearly any kind of fear. For instance, I came across someone who suggested that there might be such a thing as egochristicolaphobia - the fear of being associated with the word “Christian.” And also this: nesciophobia - the fear of not knowing what you are really afraid of. With this slightly ridiculous term, I think we may actually be getting somewhere.
This morning’s passage from the Gospel according to St. Matthew may have left you scratching your head, as it often does me. There is much in this passage that leaves me uncomfortable, and when I get to the end of it, I don’t like the idea of Jesus denying anyone before the Father in heaven; and I find myself resenting it when I hear Jesus say, “I have not come to bring peace, but a sword,” then listing the various types of conflicts that he may bring about. Where, I ask myself, is there is good news to be found in this passage? And then I think of nesciophobia, the fear of not knowing what you are really afraid of, and I think maybe somehow this made-up term might help us find the point of this passage (or at least a point of it), and might even help us find some good news in this passage.
Because what we heard today comes from Jesus’ missionary instructions to his disciples. He’s telling them, among other things, what it’s going to be like when they go out into the world like sheep into the midst of wolves. And the part of those instructions that we just heard is the part that describes, as the heading in my study Bible put it, “Whom to Fear.” In fact, the passage doesn’t deal only with fear, it also deals with death, as you could hear when Jesus said, “Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body….”
If I were to place a heading at the top of these paragraphs, I think my heading might be: “Fear and death.” And in the notes I might point out that here, Jesus helps his disciples get over their nesciophobia - their fear of not knowing what they’re really afraid of. I’ll tell you what you’re afraid of, says Jesus, and what you should be afraid of, too!
Fear and death are related, of course, because most people are afraid of death, since it represents the great unknown, and what we can’t know frightens us immensely. Modern culture is so afraid of death that we have treated it as though it is unnatural and to be avoided at any cost. But death is both natural and unavoidable. Which is not to say that being afraid of death is odd or unusual - it’s just to point out the obvious, which is often obscured in our culture.
But fear is not restricted to the fear of death, not by any means. Fear grips our lives in so many ways: we’re afraid of failure, and some of us are afraid of success; we’re afraid for the health of our planet; and we are afraid for our safety; we’re afraid for the future of our children, and for our own happiness; we’re afraid of relationships we are in, and sometimes of relationships we are not in; we’re afraid of the darkness we can identify in our selves when we are honest, or of the emptiness we may find there, too; we’re afraid of being alone, and we’re afraid to ask for help from another; just to name a few possibilities. Fear is all around us. If this passage of Mathew’s Gospel is primarily about fear and death, then we should examine closely what Jesus has to say about these two things.
As much as I hate to hear Jesus talk of bringing a sword instead of peace, I swoon when I hear him mention the sparrows. “Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. And even the hairs of your head are all counted. So do not be afraid: you are of more value than many sparrows.” Do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows. This ought to be a prayer that we can repeat to ourselves over and over again. Do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows. The way Jesus puts this - about the sparrows falling to the ground - makes it clear that he is talking about death, but I think we can apply this teaching to any fear that happens to possess us. In fact, I’m counting on it!
Despite the impossibility of it, God knows the number of hairs on your head, each and every one of them is counted. God also knows what frightens you, and God loves you and sees you; you are not out of his sight, you are not far from his hand, just as even the sparrows are not out of his sight or far from his hand. And nothing happens to any of the sparrows that goes unnoticed by God - not even their deaths, insignificant though they may seem to us. Therefore, do not be afraid; do not be afraid; do not be afraid; for you are of more value than many sparrows.
If that’s fear, then what about death? Well, Jesus ends his discussion of fear and death by saying this, “Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it. This paradoxical saying is one of the most confusing of Jesus’ teachings, but also one of his most pervasive.
Later in Matthew’s Gospel (16:25) we’ll hear Jesus repeat this teaching: “Those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.” Matthew may have been borrowing from St. Mark, who reports Jesus saying nearly the same thing (8:35): “For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.” St. Luke repeats Matthew 16:25 verbatim, in chapter 9, verse 24 of his Gospel. And again in Luke 17:33 we hear Jesus say, “Those who try to make their life secure will lose it, but those who lose their life will keep it.” And in St. John’s Gospel (12:25) we hear a slightly more dramatic, and a bit worrying, version of this teaching: “Those who love their life will lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.” This specific pattern of language that Jesus uses over and over, and the concept he is conveying are difficult for us to parse. We can’t quite make sense of it, and we can’t figure out how this paradox can possibly work, and because it’s about life and death we can’t quite let go of it either, we can’t dismiss it too easily. But it seems important to try to wrestle with what Jesus could possibly mean.
It’s possible that it’s easier to hear what Jesus means when we hear it as a chorus from all four gospels. Over and over again Jesus says this: What you think you want will only get you what you don’t want (which is death); but what you think you don’t want will get you what you want (which is life). Now, you and I have been conditioned to make no sense of this statement, because we have been targeted and urged all our lived by marketers and advertisers to consider what we want, then go out and buy it. And we have been conditioned to believe that following this pattern will make us happy and good.
To put it another way, we are told: You are not as happy as you could be because you don’t have what you want yet, but if you buy what you want you will be happy! Let’s contrast that to what Jesus said: What you think you want will only get you what you don’t want (which is death), but what you think you don’t want will get you what you want (which is life). You can see why it’s hard for us to compute. There is nothing for us to buy, for one thing. We have been told by powerful forces that following our desires and getting what we want (sometimes with free two-day shipping) will make us happy. And in fact, powerful forces have always been deeply skeptical of Jesus’ teaching since even before there were advertisers and marketers. There is a selflessness required at the heart of this teaching, which is not strictly speaking about self-denial, but is more about turning toward the other as an organizational principle of our lives. And the prospect of thinking about ourselves less and others more makes us afraid!
Our old friend fear rears its head again! You see… we didn’t even know what we were really afraid of! We thought there was death, and a bunch of other stuff to be afraid of, but now we see that it’s also the prospect of living our lives less selfishly and more oriented toward others… yup, we’re afraid of that, too.
Now, here’s what we have to see to make sense of all this: that fear is the antithesis of faith, and death is the antithesis of life. Jesus is showing us how often we are headed for fear and death, but that through him, by him, with him, and in him, we can be headed toward faith and life, instead.
Think of yourself standing on the shore of the ocean of life. In the distance are the Island of Fear & Death and the Island of Faith & Life. You can see how powerfully the current seems to draw most vessels to the Island of Fear & Death.
But a Captain stands on the shore who tells you that he can get you to the Island of Faith & Life in his boat, but it requires you to take up the cross and follow him, in order to get there.
“What does it mean,” you ask him, “to take up the cross?”
He replies, “It means that you live your life more for others than for yourself, that you put aside selfishness, and you try to give more than you take.”
“Oh, who can do that?” you ask. “It’s too hard! After all, I’m not as happy as I could be because I don’t have what I want yet, but if I buy what I want I will be happy!”
The Captain points to where a group of people are picking up their packages before boarding the boats that will be carried to the Island of Fear & Death on the power of nothing but the currents. He looks at you kindly, and asks you, “Is that what you want? Do you really believe that satisfying your own wants will make you happier, or the world better? Can you see that it’s the current of fear that carries all those boats so swiftly to the Island of Fear & Death? Do you really want to be carried to your life’s destination by fear? What are you afraid of?”
“Oh,” you reply, “I’m afraid that I don’t know what I’m really afraid of - and I don’t really want to find out!”
Says the Captain to you, “Step into my boat, my child, and try this, and see how it goes: just repeat after me and say, ‘Do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows. Do not be afraid, you are of more value than many sparrows.’”
And you do as he asks you, and you realize that you are praying, and that’s OK. And as you repeat the prayer, you look and see that although you have not yet left the shore, the Island of Fear & Death is somehow already much further away from you than it was only moments ago, and you feel relief and hope, and you see that the Captain is smiling, that he is good.
And the Captain asks you if you would like to go with him to the Island of Faith & Life. But you can see that the currents still flow powerfully toward Fear & Death, even though they are farther from you now than they were. “How is it possible?” you ask, “to overcome such strong currents?”
And the Captain hands you an oar in the shape of a cross, and he points to a third island, which you had hardly even noticed, and he tells you that it is the Island of Others, and he tells you to row with him toward the Island of Others. But before you start rowing, you ask him, “Who are they, and what do they need?”
“Who knows?” he says, “until we get there.”
And as you take your cross-shaped oar from him, you notice that his hands are bloodied, so you repeat your prayer, over and over, and you put your cross-shaped oar in the water, and you wonder how you will ever get to the Island of Faith & Life if you are rowing in the direction of the Island of Others. But you trust this Captain, and he seems good to you. And you start rowing toward the Island of Others. And before long you can see that the closer you get to the Others, the closer you get to the Island of Faith & Life.
And there are sparrows chirping on the gunwhales of the boat, and they seem to be talking with Captain, who seems to be talking with them, and who seems to know and care for each and every one of them. And somehow, you believe that it will be possible to row for the Others, and still reach the Island of Faith & Life. And you think about a time that you were so afraid that you didn’t even know what you were really afraid of. And now that time seems long ago, since if even the sparrows are safe on. This boat, surely you will be too.
And now, even as you row toward Others, guided by this Captain, who is rowing right beside you, and in fact, seems to be doing most of the work, you can’t remember what you were ever afraid of. And you feel good.
And you are able to forget yourself for a while, as you row toward the Others, as you sense this Captain has also forgotten himself as he heads toward them.
And you believe that despite the strong currents of fear, which you can see are still carrying boats to that other Island, which now seems very far away, indeed; you become confident that with this Captain at your side you will be able to reach the Island of Faith & Life. And you are right. And you find tat you are no longer afraid of not knowing what you were really afraid of, because now, with him, there is nothing to fear.
Preached by Fr. Sean Mullen
25 June 2023
Saint Mark’s, Locust Street, Philadelphia
