The sun, moon and stars are always on the move.  We don’t generally observe this because (especially in the West) we’re too busy, always on the go.  Working radio telescopes, like the one at Jodrell Bank, are usually moving too, however imperceptibly, as they track distant celestial bodies.

Jesus, once he had begun his public ministry, was always on the move.  St Mark’s Gospel in particular, has an almost breathless quality to it as, in its opening chapters, we see Jesus pack so much into a specimen day.  Despite the constant demands, the unpromising circumstances (“The Son of man has nowhere to lay his head”), and the relentless confrontations with his enemies, there is nevertheless a pervading sense in the Gospels of Jesus’ inner focus at all times on the will of his Heavenly Father.

During the online Diocesan Confirmation session for our young people last night, reference was made to the Church’s teaching that Christ, who was both God yet perfect man, had both a human and a divine will.  How these two natures aligned within the unity of his Person, no-one can say.  The theologians call it the hypostatic union.  But that is to delineate the mystery rather than explain it.  

As an analogy though, within the unity of his unique being, maybe we could say that Christ’s human will was always perfectly in tune with his divine will as Son of the Father – like a radio telescope constantly, effortlessly tracking a heavenly body.  Or, to put it the other way round, like an astronaut in space keeping at all times in perfect contact and communication with base control.

How?  That is his secret.  But it is our task, however inadequately, to attempt to emulate.

MICHAEL KIRKHAM