This morning’s Gospel reading is Matthew 4:12–23:

When Jesus heard that John had been arrested, he withdrew to Galilee. He left Nazareth and went to live in Capernaum by the sea, in the region of Zebulun and Naphtali, that what had been said through Isaiah the prophet might be fulfilled: Land of Zebulun and land of Naphtali, the way to the sea, beyond the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles, the people who sit in darkness have seen a great light, on those dwelling in a land overshadowed by death light has arisen. From that time on, Jesus began to preach and say, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.”

As he was walking by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon who is called Peter, and his brother Andrew, casting a net into the sea; they were fishermen. He said to them, “Come after me, and I will make you fishers of men.” At once they left their nets and followed him. He walked along from there and saw two other brothers, James, the son of Zebedee, and his brother John. They were in a boat, with their father Zebedee, mending their nets. He called them, and immediately they left their boat and their father and followed him. He went around all of Galilee, teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the gospel of the kingdom, and curing every disease and illness among the people.

You can’t say you weren’t warned.

How often have we heard that about our choices in life? Sometimes, our choices turn out badly through no fault of our own, but at other times we knew — or should have known — the consequences. Eating 38,000 donuts, for instance, probably will make you unhealthy, as I learned the hard way … but in truth knew all along.

By the way, 38,000 donuts is probably a conservative estimate.

We all make plenty of such choices in our lives that end up going awry. Trial and error sometimes teaches us better than education, or so we tell ourselves when we either eschew or ignore that education. I got my degree from the School of Hard Knocks is just another way of saying that we cling to our own wills despite having been advised to choose differently, whether that relates to diet, money, friends, careers, or other choices we must all make in our lives.

In today’s Gospel reading, we not only come to this same decision process, but also the forgiveness built into it. Matthew paraphrases our first reading from the prophet Isaiah, who predicted that the Messiah would come from the “anguish” and “distress” in Zebulun and Naphtali. And what would happen at that time?

The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; upon those who dwelt in the land of gloom a light has shone.

Having just come from Advent, one clear reference to a “great light” is the Star of Bethlehem, which heralded the arrival of the Messiah. In Isaiah, the Messiah Himself is the great light that dispels the anguish and gloom. In either sense, the light comes from The Word of the Lord, which finally and fully illumines our path to salvation.

And then what?

I mean, not to be too flippant, but I also saw that eating my glorious 38,000 donuts was not the path to health. That particular path had all sorts of illumination on it. Plenty of us know that education will advance our prosperity, as will following a biblical model of family life, exercising proper stewardship towards one’s resources, not coveting our neighbor’s spouses, and so on. Yet we all fall short, engage in sinful behaviors, and reject the path of wisdom. Can we actually say we weren’t warned about the consequences of our sinful, self-indulgent, and unhealthy choices?

Even in the times in which Jesus preached the Gospel, the people understood the consequences of sin and poor choices. Jesus ministered specifically to people who understood and yet ignored those to live in sin. Matthew himself was a reviled tax collector, essentially a collaborationist and a thief who had plagued God’s people until his conversion by Christ. He knew full well the consequences of those choices when he made them.

And yet, Christ came so that Matthew could repent of those choices and convert. Repent, Jesus preached, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand. Jesus shined a great light over our spiritual darkness and exile, not to force everyone into submission but to offer everyone a real choice between the Light and the Darkness. The Light is His Word: we can no longer ever claim that we haven’t been warned. The Light exposes our sinfulness and renders our willfulness bare.

However, it also offers us a crucial and ongoing path to repentance and conversion — if we choose it. Jesus sacrificed Himself once and for all time and conquered death on our behalf, and at least in our material world, death is the ultimate darkness. Even while we stumble and fall backwards toward that darkness, the Light is ever before us, beckoning us to choose Him rather than darkness. That choice has to be ours, or it is meaningless, as the Lord wants us to come to Him in love as His adopted sons and daughters rather than servants or slaves.

Why is it so hard to make that choice? We are too addicted to the “donuts” of our lives — our pretenses of authority, our desire to best others, our avarice, and even our inertia. We want to have what we want now, regardless of the consequences, even when we know exactly what those consequences are. In short, we are all Adam and Eve, who want to usurp the Lord rather than live within His love. Even with Jesus offering complete forgiveness for our rebelliousness, we want to rebel, and we fight against the Light.

To embrace the Light, we must leave that rebellious nature behind. We have to accept the lordship of Jesus and live our lives for Him, while loving our neighbors and making the responsible choices that respond to His will rather than our own.

That path is not easy — and in fact, it’s so impossibly hard that Jesus promises to meet us along the way and provide His grace to get us home. The more sinful baggage we can cast aside from our concupiscence, our addictions, and our willfulness, the easier that path becomes.

The front-page image is the pulpit of St. Andrew’s Church in Antwerp, Belgium. Sculpture by Jan-Baptist van Hool and Jan-Frans van Geel. Photo by Ad Meskins (cropped to fit), via Wikimedia Commons.

“Sunday Reflection” is a regular feature, looking at the specific readings used in today’s Mass in Catholic parishes around the world. The reflection represents only my own point of view, intended to help prepare myself for the Lord’s day and perhaps spark a meaningful discussion. Previous Sunday Reflections from the main page can be found here.