More than two decades after leaving school I inadvertently crossed paths with a former classmate. I hadn’t given him much thought over the passing years, remembering him only as someone who was often the target of ridicule.
As we spoke I soon became aware of the depth of the suffering that he had endured – of the verbal jibes, the physical harassment and emotional persecution that had defined his six years of high school.
I remember leaving that encounter with a feeling of sadness for this man, but also with a sense of relief that I had not been one of the perpetrators of such sustained bullying. It was a self-righteous attitude that was soon rectified.As I pondered this man’s torment I recalled the words of those justifying themselves in the parable in Matthew’s Gospel (25:31 – 46): “Lord, when did I see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister to you?”
And then I was struck by the memory of standing idly by as a frightened young schoolboy was tormented, and the words echoed in my head, “Truly I say to you, as you did it not to one of the least of these, you did it not to me”.
It was a revelation that should have been life changing, and for a while it was. I began to understand the scriptural wisdom that what I have done is equally important as what I have failed to do.
Inaction, I realised, was also a choice. But such is human nature, or at least mine, that it didn’t take long for the truth of this insight to fade.
However, the recent focus on Mary MacKillop evoked memories of my epiphany. “Never see a need without doing something about it,” she said.
It reminded me how often I choose to do nothing in a world that is full of need. Because every time I make a choice I am, in actual fact, prioritising what is most important to me – as much by what I choose as by what I do not.
Each time I decide to exercise my gift of free will to satisfy my own desires I am turning my focus inward and, in essence, blinding myself to the needs of others.
This in itself does not necessarily imply wrongdoing, but I believe it can help me gauge where I stand on my journey to be more like Christ.
It will determine every decision I make, from how I relate to others to how I spend my time, energy and money.
Am I being moulded by my own interests and indulgences? or am I able to move beyond these and be moulded by the selflessness of Jesus?
It is a question that we should all be asking ourselves. But perhaps the most honest way to answer it may be to have a closer look, not at what we do, but at what we fail to do.