Homily: 24th Sunday in Ordinary Timne - Year B

Readings: Is 50:5-9a; Ps 116; Ja 2:14-18; Mk 8-27-35

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“Who do you say that I am?”

An interesting question Jesus asks the apostles. Only Peter answers, but he gets it right, doesn’t he? With a little nudging from the Holy Spirit.

“You are the Christ” [Mk 8:29], he responds. That’s right --  You’re the Messiah, the one who will set us free. Of course, Peter’s understanding is very different from that of Jesus. This becomes apparent just a few moments later when Peter gets it wrong. He gets it so wrong that Jesus calls him a Satan. I guess that’s about as wrong as you can get.

Poor Peter. He’s beginning to understand who Jesus is. We see this in Matthew’s Gospel where this same scene is described. Here Peter answers Jesus by saying,

“You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” [Mt 16:16]

For Peter, Jesus is the promised one, the king who will reign over Israel and bring freedom to His people. But Peter’s idea of a king and freedom are human concepts. And there’s the irony. Peter’s beginning to understand, but for all the wrong reasons. In truth, he hasn’t a clue…at least not yet.

Peter and the others never dreamed that the words of Isaiah, words we just heard proclaimed here, could apply to the Messiah, and still less to Jesus:

"I made no resistance, neither did I turn away. I offered my back to those who struck me, my cheeks to those who tore at my beard; I did not cover my face against insult and spittle." [Is 50:6]

Isaiah’s Suffering Servant isn’t the Messiah they envisioned, nor is He the God they worship. It was a slow, painful process for the disciples to change their thinking, something that wasn’t fully realized until after the resurrection, until Pentecost.

And brothers and sisters, we, too, must sometimes go through the same process. That’s one of the more interesting aspects of this exchange between Jesus and Peter: It’s still going on today. Jesus still asks us who do we say He is…and just like Peter, far too many, don’t have a clue.

Many so-called Christians stopped believing in Jesus’ divinity long ago. I mean, really, how can any educated person today believe that this itinerant 1^st century Jewish preacher was actually God? A powerful teacher, perhaps…a man of strong character…a wise philosopher…all of these things…but the Son of God?

Others will say, okay, maybe he was a prophet…Or a great moral leader…Or a revolutionary hero…Or simply a good man who, like many other good men, died before his time…Or perhaps he was simply a fool…Yes, indeed, these answers, and others like them, are all out there.

But for most of us, for us Christians, at least when things are going well in our lives, Jesus’ question is easy to answer: He’s the Messiah, the Son of the living God.

When you saw your newborn child or grandchild for the first time…Thank you, Lord; Oh, yes, Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the living God.

When a loved one is cured of that life-threatening disease…Thank you, Lord…Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the living God.

When an adult child returns to the Faith. Thank you, Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the living God.

Oh, we know the answer when things are going well, in the midst of success and happiness and the good things of life.

But then, there are other days, aren’t there? Days when that question nags and challenges — even taunts us for a response: But who do you say that I am? When others ask about Jesus, what do you say to them?

“I don’t know!”, we want to cry. “I wish I knew. I wish I could say for certain…”

So often, that question comes to us, not from one of the good places, with nice landscaping, and good food, and valet parking, and room service. 

Sometimes it comes from the deserts of our lives, from the dark woods choked with thorns and brambles. Then it just doesn’t sound very pleasant, does it? No, it sounds sharp, so sharp it can wound. Yes, God’s question, “Who do you say that I am?” comes just as often from places of uncertainty, from places of pain and conflict.

And that’s when we want to scream an answer: “I thought I knew who you were, but not today, not after this…” Not when we’re lost in those wilderness places, places where the border between hope and folly, between life and death, between trust and despair – places where those distinctions are so blurred the words become almost meaningless to us.

A few weeks ago, I conducted a committal service for a family at the National Cemetery in Bushnell. The husband and father, seemingly in wonderful health, had died suddenly of a heart attack while he and his wife were visiting their children. One moment he was laughing and playing with the grandchildren and the next moment he was gone. They were devastated – all of them – and each struggled to answer Jesus’ question: But who do you say that I am? And do you know something? So did I.

For it was one of those days when the answer we want to give, the witness we want to be, the words we long to say – the healing words, the comforting words, the reconciling words, the words of faith and hope – stick deep in the back of our throats, or remain stubbornly silent, too elusive, too fragile, too uncertain to be spoken aloud.

And yet that question, “Who do you say that I am?” continues to echo down through the ages from the hills of Galilee. It lingers in the air of a refugee camp in the Sudan. It shouts from a hospital bed in Leesburg, or a half-way house in the Bronx or nursing home in Palm Beach. It calls to us from a tunnel in Gaza, from an empty kibbutz in Israel, from a burned-out village in Nigeria, or a soup kitchen in Wildwood. From a neighborhood across the globe to one just around the corner and down the street.

Who do you say that I am?

The question arises when good men and women die, when families grieve, when hearts are broken when trust is betrayed. When it’s not a beautiful day in The Villages, who do we say Christ is? Is He still the Messiah, the son of the living God?

After Jesus asked that question, he turned to the crowd and told them:

“Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me.  For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and that of the gospel will save it” [Mk 8:34-35].

For that grieving family standing at the graveside, for the woman just diagnosed with cancer, for the man who unexpectedly loses his job…these words of Jesus are hard words to hear. For so many, isn’t life itself burden enough?

But in truth, only the cross can bear the full weight of human suffering. Only the cross contains the promise that death is not the final word. Only the cross offers real hope in the midst of the world’s despair. Just watch the news, folks, and see the chaos and hatred. 

Do we accept and believe this truth even when our world is crumbling and the path ahead seems so uncertain? Not if our lives reflect a double standard. How can we be Christians and yet have the same values as the rest of society? We can’t.

Sisters and brothers, we are surrounded by a Godless culture, a culture of death. As Jesus prayed to the Father:

I gave them your word, and the world hated them, because they do not belong to the world any more than I belong to the world [Jn 17:14].

Do we belong to the world, or do we belong to Jesus Christ?

How can we be Christians if our primary concerns are with material plenty, professional success, great careers for our children and grandchildren? Oh, it’s a full-time job just "saving" our lives, just locking in our security, isn’t it?.

But then Jesus tells us that to be really free, we must let it go, stop clinging. He tells us to give and not to grab, to share and not to hoard, to choose life at every stage, from conception until natural death. To see others as brothers and sisters, not as rivals and competitors. He tells us to love others, to reach out to them, not to guard against them.

Who do you say that I am?  he asks us, every day.

In the end, though, the question doesn’t call for an answer in words; no, it demands a decision; it demands action. Words are easy, aren’t they? Recall what James told us in our 2^nd reading.

"Go in peace…Oh, and if you have no bread, well, don’t worry, God will provide.”

"Sorry, I can't help you now, I’m on my way to Mass."

"Oh, yes, I can imagine how difficult it must be to be homeless. I'll pray for you."

No, Jesus doesn’t want just words; He wants a decision, a decision to pick up our cross, to help others carry theirs, and to follow Him together…for He’s the only one who knows the way…the way home.

God love you.

St. Paul on His World and Our World

A lot of people today have been writing a lot of words telling us what’s wrong with our world. Some of them have got it right, some only half-right, and others are completely wrong. Of course, assigning a writer to one of these three categories is based entirely on how closely his thought and beliefs mesh with my own...OK, and with the teachings of the Church. But I read them all, whether or not I agree with them. 

This evening, as I was mulling over some of the things I had read recently, I suddenly remembered St. Paul and his remarkable letter to the Romans. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve read Romans, but I turn to it frequently because it’s so rich in spiritual truths. But it’s also rich in truths about our world and it’s problems. When you read Romans you discover that human nature hasn’t really changed in 2,000 years. The problems of today’s world, although they are packaged differently, are also remarkable similar to those faced by St. Paul and his contemporaries.  

I suggest you read the the following passage from the first chapter of Romans. With these words Paul describes with remarkable clarity the world of the Roman Empire in the first century, while prophetically describing the world we face today, along with its many evils. Perhaps I’ll delve into these verses at some point, but I’m pretty sure you will see the connections between Paul’s words and our world.

The wrath of God is indeed being revealed from heaven against every impiety and wickedness of those who suppress the truth by their wickedness. For what can be known about God is evident to them, because God made it evident to them. Ever since the creation of the world, his invisible attributes of eternal power and divinity have been able to be understood and perceived in what he has made. As a result, they have no excuse; for although they knew God they did not accord him glory as God or give him thanks. Instead, they became vain in their reasoning, and their senseless minds were darkened. While claiming to be wise, they became fools and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for likenesses of an image of mortal man or of birds or of four-legged animals or of snakes. Therefore, God handed them over to impurity through the lusts of their hearts for the mutual degradation of their bodies. They exchanged the truth of God for a lie and revered and worshiped the creature rather than the Creator, who is blessed for ever! Amen.

Therefore, God handed them over to degrading passions. Their females exchanged natural relations for unnatural, and the males likewise gave up natural relations with females and burned with lust for one another. Males did shameful things with males and thus received in their own persons the due penalty for their perversity. And since they did not see fit to acknowledge God, God handed them over to their undiscerning mind to do what is improper. They are filled with every form of wickedness, evil, greed, and malice; full of envy, murder, rivalry, treachery, and spite. They are gossips and scandalmongers and they hate God. They are insolent, haughty, boastful, ingenious in their wickedness, and rebellious toward their parents. They are senseless, faithless, heartless, ruthless. Although they know the just decree of God that all who practice such things deserve death, they not only do them but give approval to those who practice them [Rom 1:18-32].

That's quite a collection of evils, isn't it? These, and many others, are the sins that nailed our Lord Jesus to the Cross on that first Good Friday -- sins of the past, the present, and the future.

Many people today, sadly, even many Christians, don't like to hear St. Paul's words because they have succumbed to the spirit of the age, which, by the way, is a spirit of evil. Others recognize the truth in what St. Paul tells us, but to openly proclaim and live a life that contradicts the world's evils demands more courage than they can muster up. So they keep quiet and ignore it all. Paul, however. is not calling us to fight evil with another evil. He's telling us to despise the sin, all the while loving and encouraging and praying for the sinner. Believe me, it isn't easy, but we don't do it alone.

 

Homily Video: 15th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year A)

Yesterday our IT folks gave me the video file of the homily I preached last Saturday evening at our parish's 6 p.m. Vigil Mass. I posted the text of the homily a few days ago here. Now you get to watch the video, assuming this is something you just can't wait to do.

Anyway, I've embedded the video below. My homily addresses the Parable of the Sower as it is related in Matthew's Gospel (Mt 13:1-23)...

Homily: 15 Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year A)

Readings: Is 55:10-11 • Ps 65 • Rom 8:18-23 • Mt 13:1-23

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Immersed in the Gospel, and supported by our faith, we hear the parables of Jesus and we understand...or, at least, we try to understand.

But that's not always the case, is it? Our receptivity, how open we are to receive God's Word, can vary like the seasons.

Sometimes it pierces the soul to the very marrow, and we experience deep conversion of heart.

But then, perhaps too often, it barely seems to scratch the surface, because we're just not ready for it...at least not yet.

And sometimes, we actively resist it. We reject God's Word because it says things we simply don't want to hear. Yes, it's then that we're much more open to the word of the world...which is strange since the world just offers us one empty promise after another: 

A diamond is forever.

It's the real thing. 

Have it your way.

Just do it.

You're in good hands.

Yes, following the world's advice, we're promised that everything will go well...until we come face to face with eternity. Unlike the word of the world, the Word of God both commands and demands.

Not long ago I came across the website of a consulting group that focuses on helping Christian churches fill the pews. The site includes a teasing little blurb with all kinds of interesting suggestions:

Does your church have sufficient parking?

What's the quality of the music?

Is it a friendly, hospitable church?

...and on and on...although make no mistake, these are all good things.

But after reading the consultants' list of suggestions, I noticed something was missing.

There was little or nothing about proclaiming and living God's Word. The only thing that came close was an admonition to "avoid polarization in your preaching." I'm not sure what that means. Maybe it's just another way of saying, "Don't worry, be happy."

But there was nothing about the grace-giving sacramental life...

Nothing about serving God's people beyond the boundaries of the property...

Nothing about being the "salt of the earth" or "the light of the world."

Imagine how these consultants would have responded to Jesus and the parable of the sower.

Jesus, you've just got to be more focused. See this huge crowd? That Word of yours will turn off most of them.

We've heard you.

"Eat my Body...drink my Blood" [Jn 6:53]

"Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you." [Mt 5:44]

"When you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing."  [Mt 6:3]

Those words will just drive most of them away. And that's no way to fill the parking lot or the collection basket.

You'll be lucky to end up with a handful of followers.

You just don't understand the dynamics of church growth.

Of course, Jesus didn't have that kind of expert help, the kind available to us today. And so what did He do? 

He gathered the huge crowd, got into the boat, and sat down like teacher and judge, and told His disciples how to spread the Word...  

He told them a parable about a farmer who isn't very careful at all about the sowing of seed: he just throws it all over the place. Although some actually falls on fertile soil, most of it seems to be wasted.

But that's exactly what Jesus has done since He began His public ministry. Unsparing in His generosity, He teaches, He forgives, He heals, He reaches out to all who come to Him, even to those who don't. He has a special love for public sinners, for the poor, for society's misfits and rejects - not the sort who give large contributions.

Jesus, you see, is the Word, the Incarnate Word of God, and so He teaches, and heals, and forgives through His Word and His Work.

He calls for more than simple obedience to the law. He calls for conversion, a change of heart and mind in his hearers. But too many resist His appeal because their hearts are as hard as the rocky ground on which some of that seed fell...or as tangled and suffocating as the briars that choked God's Word before it could grow.

Why? Jesus says they lack understanding. What is this understanding? Brothers and sisters, it's an act of faith, a response to Jesus' call. For their hearts to be opened, they must respond. Without it, they'll just be like so many Christians today who seem to welcome the Gospel but then crumble once they're tested, once they're actually called to live it. Only this understanding, this act of faith, frees us from the allure of the word of the world.

Jesus isn't surprised by their lack of faith. They're the same hardened hearts with which Isaiah had to contend when He spread the seed of God's word.

And Jesus promises us that God is not defeated because, like the farmer, He's a bit of a gambler.

When the farmer bets everything he has...and the outcome isn't guaranteed...well, he’s gambling big time. The higher the stakes, the harder he works. Not just to control the weeds, but to control the every single variable he can. He does so to control the risks.

Consider the extreme and improbable risks that God takes by planting his Word in our hostile world. What are the chances the Word of God will take root and yield a good harvest?

Just try talking love or compassion to a terrorist...or forgiveness to the family of a murder victim.

What about the notion of truth in the midst of a heated political campaign?

How about the command, "Sell what you have and give  to the poor"? [Mt 19:21]  Have you ever seen it in a brochure pushing real estate or financial planning?

How often do the words "praise" and "gratitude" play on the minds of those busily adjusting the parameters of their spreadsheets?

And does the scientist ever realize she's bowing in reverence to the Creator of the universe whenever she leans over the microscope to study the wonders of cellular regeneration?

What are the chances?

You and I might think the chances of the Word of God germinating in a fallen world are mighty slim. But, as it turns out, God is a gambler of the most reckless sort. As the poetry of Isaiah reveals, the Word of God swiftly runs upon the earth and doesn't return to the heavens void!

Day after day, in the face of incredible odds, Jesus hurls out the seed of the Word like a gambler throwing dice. It appears reckless...but faith takes root. Isaiah was confident. Jesus claimed it was a sure thing. God's Word yields its harvest.

In arid hearts that thirst for God, the understanding, the seeds of faith...will take root, "and yield a hundred or sixty or thirty fold" [Mt 13:8]

How's that for a reckless, over-the-top response?

No, God doesn't hesitate. But what about us? What about you and me? What's our response to His Word?

You see, God expects us, His disciples, to join Him in this work of sowing. But too often we're so wrapped up in ourselves, in our needs and wants, we don't realize the impact we can have. Too often we fall into the trap of thinking we must do big things to get God's attention, when exactly the opposite is true.

Indeed, each time you open your Bible, or take time to pray together, or carry God's love to another, or gather together at Mass, or feed the hungry, or visit the sick or imprisoned, more seeds are scattered, more risks are taken!

You see, it's these seemingly little things that plant the seed of God's Word in the world.

Yesterday morning I read a journal article by a psychiatrist who's been studying the growing plague of suicide in our nation, particularly among the young. He concluded the article with these words:

"A few years ago, a man in his thirties took his own life by jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge (as more than 1,500 other people have done since the bridge was built). After his death, his psychiatrist went with the medical examiner to the man's apartment where they found his diary. The last entry, written just hours before he died, said, "I'm going to walk to the bridge. If one person smiles at me on the way, I will not jump." [First Things]

I wonder how many Christians, people like you and me, he encountered on that short walk.

Brothers and sisters, sometimes one tiny spot of fertile soil awaits the arrival of a single life-giving seed.

Praised be Jesus Christ, now and forever.