Deeply Convicted

A Reflection on the First Reading for November 10th, 2019:
Thirty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

2 MACCABEES

1 It happened also that seven brothers and their mother were arrested and were being compelled by the king, under torture with whips and cords, to partake of unlawful swine's flesh. 2 One of them, acting as their spokesman, said, "What do you intend to ask and learn from us? For we are ready to die rather than transgress the laws of our fathers." 9 And when he was at his last breath, he said, "You accursed wretch, you dismiss us from this present life, but the King of the universe will raise us up to an everlasting renewal of life, because we have died for his laws." 10 After him, the third was the victim of their sport. When it was demanded, he quickly put out his tongue and courageously stretched forth his hands, 11 and said nobly, "I got these from Heaven, and because of his laws I disdain them, and from him I hope to get them back again." 12 As a result the king himself and those with him were astonished at the young man's spirit, for he regarded his sufferings as nothing. 13 When he too had died, they maltreated and tortured the fourth in the same way. 14 And when he was near death, he said, "One cannot but choose to die at the hands of men and to cherish the hope that God gives of being raised again by him. But for you there will be no resurrection to life!"

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Fear can be paralyzing. I should know. It has been my closest companion for most of my life. I have recently become more decisively courageous, though, so this past summer, I decided I would take my kids zip lining. That’s what fun moms do—they take their kids to do fun things. I was well aware of my issue with heights, but I was convinced that since this organization went to great lengths to ensure every safety precaution was taken, there was no need to fear. We arrived, were geared up with all the helmets, knots, and locks, and then sent on our way to navigate the course. I thought it would be wise to start small—to slowly work my way up to the higher platforms. As I was enjoying the very close-to-the-ground but still challenging course, a young gentleman approached me saying, “Excuse me, miss, but this course is only for kids.” Impatiently, and with great embarrassment, my daughter urged me on to the real deal. As I climbed the first tree to the platform, I soon learned, I was in trouble. Clinging to the tree, I began catastrophizing:

“What kind of irresponsible parent sends their kids off on a thin wire, dangling over a 300ft drop?”

“What if someone misplaced a bolt?”

“What if the wire comes loose?”

“What if the kids can’t reach the platform?”

“What if the carabiner opens?”

“What if a giant flying people-eating monster swoops down out of the sky…?”


And then… petrification. My mind went black and I was neither able to move or think.


What does it take to move past situations of paralyzing fear? More specifically, the kind of fear imposed on us by extreme evil like the kind described in this reading from Maccabees? I believe courage is the answer: the kind of purposeful courage that comes from a deep conviction rooted in love. The brothers who were being mercilessly tortured and killed, drew on a collective conviction of their love of God in order to accept their fate and die with dignity (there is nothing dignified, by the way, about clinging to a tree fully drenched in protective equipment in a family-friendly adventure park).


The passion of fear has a good and clear function: to alert us to danger and set us into action to either avert the danger or cope with it. But fear that leads to enslavement within ourselves—strips us of the enjoyment of life as it relates to growing and maintaining our inner peace—is not properly ordered. Being restored to a disposition of courage requires two conditions are met, as far as I can tell. One is a restoration of our identity, and the other is an opportunity to practice acting out of our identity courageously. Both of these conditions were met in the martyrdom of the brothers. They knew who they were, and because they were secure in their knowledge of the love and promises of their God, neither fear nor evil could separate them from Him. ​


​Lori MacDonald

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