Sunday Reflection | Without Me, You Can Do Nothing

One of the most formidable leaders of all time was Alexander the Great. He was one of those lucky people who seemed to have opportunities tossed at him from birth. He had a personal tutor up until he was sixteen, a fairly famous teacher at the time, named Aristotle. But Alexander’s passion lay not in the theories of philosophy but in the very practical matters of wielding military might. By the time he was thirty years old, Alexander had rewritten the map of the ancient world, conquering and creating an empire that stretched from Greece all the way to India. He did this, not because of any superior technology, but because of superior leadership. He knew how to inspire his soldiers and how to deploy their strengths to maximum advantage, often in ways that were unexpected.

It is said that in one particular battle Alexander and his troops had made an ocean crossing, and as they came ashore, they saw in formation, waiting for them, soldiers of the Persian empire, which was the dominant geopolitical power at the time. Alexander’s men looked to him to give the command. What were they going to do? Alexander turned to his assistants and said, “Burn our boats. Have the men set fire to all the boats.” “What? But how will we get back to Greece?” “We will either sail back in the boats of the Persians, or we’ll die here on the shore. Burn our boats.”

Now, that seems a little unhinged, perhaps, but it also reveals an insight into human nature. Those guys would have fought differently if they knew that they had the option to retreat. If they thought that if things got too tough they could always pull back, they might hesitate to take the sort of risks that win battles. If they were able to leave their options open, they wouldn’t give 100%. In the heat of battle, pressed by fear and pain, their minds and hearts would start gravitating toward the boats. But if it’s life or death, all or nothing, people find themselves capable of more than they could have anticipated. And if they have a leader who is willing to put his life on the line right alongside theirs, they can rise to the occasion.

It turns out that they wouldn’t need those Persian boats anyway; they won their battle and just kept on moving east. It’s no coincidence that Alexander won that battle and so many more, ultimately conquering more territory than even the Roman Empire at its height centuries later. All this, largely because this leader understood the human heart: when we leave our options wide open, we are divided within ourselves, and we’re feeble. But when something happens that directs all our energies onto one thing, there is no limit to what can be accomplished.

Each of the seasons of our Church’s year are designed to accomplish something different within us. One of the graces particular to the Easter season is that it brings before our eyes each Sunday the historical reality of the bodily Resurrection of Jesus. And this reminds us: either the Resurrection of Jesus in His real human body is the truth or it’s a lie. If it’s a lie, none of us should be Catholic. If it’s the truth, it means that Jesus’ teachings are all true, including His claim to be God. If this is so, He has an absolute claim on our lives in a way that no other person or thing possibly can. It means that, if we accept the Resurrection and Christ’s teachings, we freely forsake all other options. Jesus says, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” Last weekend, we heard St. Peter preaching to the elders of the people after the Resurrection, telling them clearly, “There is no other name but that of Jesus given under heaven by which we must be saved. There is no salvation in anyone else.”

Such statements aren’t always easy for people to hear these days, when the ambient cultural mood prizes nothing more highly than absolute individual autonomy, keeping your options perpetually open, not tying yourself down to anything. Loose connections, light affiliations. People are scared by commitment, and yet it is only according to the measure of our commitment that we’ll have any lasting impact. The paradox that stands at the center of human existence is that the freedom that God gave to us finds its fulfillment only when we give it over to Him in becoming a fully committed disciple, when we burn the boats of our own self-reliance, and cast ourselves totally upon Christ, ready to follow His lead with no turning back.

It is in this spirit of total commitment that Jesus speaks to us today, saying “Without me, you can do nothing.” God wants us to bear fruit, abundant fruit, to make a real impact during the time that is given to us, but we’re only going to be able to do that if we make Christ our sole option.

How might our lives look if we really took to heart these words, “Without me, you can do nothing?” Well, we’d be in conversation with Christ all day. From the moment we wake up, offering Him the day that lies ahead. All throughout work, asking for the grace we need to work well, to be kind, to choose rightly. At home, in times of recreation, in times of suffering, on good days and bad days alike. If prayer were the first thing we turned to, rather than the last, we would find more of the peace we’re looking for. And we would be stronger. And indeed, more truly ourselves because we wouldn’t be divided inside.

As we continue these final weeks of Easter, the season of the Resurrection, let us open our hearts to receive the grace God wishes to give us - to embrace the truth of the bodily Resurrection of Jesus in His real human body, and on this basis, to lay aside any other option than Jesus, to burn every boat, leaving us standing there full equipped with everything we need: Christ alone. Without Him, we can do nothing. With Him, all things are possible.