“DO NOT BE AFRAID”

“I was born a twin of fear,” wrote the English philosopher Thomas Hobbes (1588–1679). In saying this, he recalled that he had been born prematurely because his mother had been frightened by the news of the arrival of the Spanish Armada off the English coast in 1588. But what is fear? It is not merely a negative emotion; it is the feeling that accompanies us from the very first day we come into this world until the very last. And what gives rise to it? Death. In a word, we are afraid of death. That is why we are selfish, self-centered, competitive, and cynical in our attitudes. Everything, in this context, has a utilitarian purpose, and therefore everything is always geared toward our own survival—and perhaps even that of others (though, if we are honest, we give others only crumbs). Hobbes said that the foundation of society is not the love that unites, but the terror of a violent death that is always possible. Hence that typical aggression that reveals how every man is a wolf to his neighbor (homo homini lupus). It follows that human life is reduced to a war of all against all (bellum omnium contra omnes). But fear manifests itself not only as a blazing fire but also in a colder way, namely as calculating logic. Is it not out of fear of losing their lives that people are driven to use reason to find peace, even if it involves many compromises? Is it not in an attempt to escape chaos that people accept a pact and surrender their rights to an absolute power (the State, with its laws)? Is it not to escape the unknown that people take refuge in a religion, which, like a sort of painkiller, soothes anxieties and anguish? And so what is the meaning of the invitation Jesus addresses to us today when he says, “Do not be afraid” (Mt 10:28)? We know that he too went through it (think only of Gethsemane). But it was precisely there that he transformed it into a self-surrender to the Father and a free entrusting to his will, thus transfiguring natural resistance into trusting surrender. But to help us reach this point as well, he has invited us to look at two images: the birds of the sky and the lilies of the field (cf. Mt 6:25–34). What does this mean? What does it mean? Simple: these two images are an invitation to live in the present, thereby freeing ourselves from the burden of the future. The birds and the lilies are in an eternal present; they do not feel the erosion of time, and they experience a loving Father who cares for them and nourishes them, even clothing them in beauty. It is therefore necessary to live the present intensely, as the plant and animal kingdoms teach us. This is how fear can gradually be overcome.

Commentary by d. Sandro Carotta, osb
Abbazia di Praglia (Italia)