18 Oct 2015
29th Sunday in Ordinary
Time, Year B
Whenever we come to worship God, we usually sing songs of
gratitude or praise to God. You know, we
sing words like: “Here in this place new light is streaming, now is the
darkness vanished away;” or “The God of all grace has blessed us this day, all
of creation joins us in praise;” or “Sing a new song unto the Lord, let your
song be sung from mountains high, singing alleluia!”
And these are songs of a free people; a people who’ve seen
the difference between a life without Christ
and a life with Christ. They’re songs of people who aren’t captive
anymore, but are free in spirit. Christ
has unlocked their “prison door” and they’ve gone through the door and into
freedom: out to begin living life in a new way.
They’ve begun to live God’s vision of a “new humanity.”
The question is, though: Are we these people (not necessarily here at St Bernadette, but as a
Church as a whole)? We hear today that: “The
Son of Man did not come to be served but to serve and to give his life as a
ransom for many”—a ransom from all the things we can be a slave to, without
even knowing it. Do we know ourselves as
a free people or not?
When I was in college, there was a young woman (probably in
her early 20s) who had told the class she was Catholic (I think we were each
describing who we were). And she seemed
pretty normal and was a good presence in the classroom; you know, kind and
helpful; she always wore a crucifix on her necklace. And then there was another young lady there
who was just the opposite: she had a foul mouth, was confrontational and
overbearing, and didn’t believe in a God of any sort.
By the end of the semester, we had two foul-mouthed girls in the class, who were rude and couldn’t
care less about other people. And we had
one less Catholic—she was a captive, and did what was popular rather than what was right. She was in prison again, and she didn’t even know it.
Of course, that’s the struggle of so many youth today—to be a
free person in Christ, or to be a slave to popular opinion. It’s a rather tragic thing, I think, to see a
young man or woman in church with a face that says: “I would rather be anywhere
else than here.” An expressionless face,
a stoic and unmovable face that says (even if they don’t know it): “I am a
captive.” And it’s sad to see someone
who is unable to sing the songs of
Christian freedom; who sings the words on the page but maybe doesn’t feel them
in his or her heart.
And that’s not just a struggle for youth today; it’s also a
challenge for many adults. The old idea
of “keeping up with Joneses” keeps a lot of people captive. “My neighbor has a new car, and all I have is
my old Buick with 120,000 miles on it and a few scratches and dents.” Or “my friend Joe over here can run a
marathon, but I can’t even run around the block because of my knee
problems.” It’s easy to be held captive
to images of what we think we should
be like.
And then we come to Mass and sing, “Lord, let your mercy be
on us, as we place our trust in you.” But do we?
Are we really so free and able to “place our trust in” God and be at
peace about life? Or are our hearts and
minds held captive and bothered by other things? My guess is that’s a question we each have to
answer for ourselves.
But to help with that we’re reminded again today that: “The
Son of Man did not come to be served but to serve and to give his life as a
ransom for many.” He came so that we might “have life and have it
more abundantly.” Yes, Jesus is Lord, but
he doesn’t lord it over us. And as much
as Jesus is the divine Authority, he’s not interested in a display of power,
but in an understated show of mercy and companionship.
He never says: “I am the Son of God: the Ruler of the world.” Instead, he’s the much weaker “Son of Man,” who
invites people to follow him, and never forces them. His disciples follow him because they want to, not because they have to.
And they follow him because they know he’s “set them free” from their
captivity to popular opinion, or the latest gadget, or the idea that they have
to change themselves in order to be lovable.
The disciples of Christ are freed from that and just follow him with
trust, hope, and love.
And they follow him, the Son of Man, into something new—into
a new way of living, into a new way of being
human. The Son of Man reveals to us
a “new humanity,” as Pope Benedict XVI calls.
And the freedom that Christ summons us into in this “new humanity” is a
life of: kindness; a life of trust and fidelity in one another; a life of hope
and truth; a life of greatness and inner radiance; a life of happiness and
peace, a life of service (that is, love) for God, others, and ourselves; a life
of commitment and self-offering; a life of always looking forward and upward; a
life that treasures the ancient and the old, and reveres and nurtures the new.
The Son of Man came to “ransom us” from our old selves, and
to open the way to a “new humanity.” Of
course, that “new humanity” comes with a price.
Christ has already paid the price on the Cross. But the price continues to be paid every time
we try to live the fact that Christ has freed us.
For many of our youth, the price of living as free person in
Christ is the fear of what others will say.
What are others going to think if I’m actually happy that there’s at least one person in life that loves me
unconditionally? What are others going
to think if I say, “I can’t go out tonight because I just really need to spend
some time with my family.” The Cross
happens again every time they put their love of God ahead of their concerns
about what others think.
Sometimes, though, it’s easier to be held captive to others
than to be free with Christ. Adults know
that, too. At the office, or out in the
field, sometimes it’s easier to just “go with the flow” than to stir things up
by bringing Christian values into a situation.
Sometimes it’s easier to be a captive to others’ values than our own . .
. because we don’t want the pain of the Cross, the pain of sometimes doing what’s
right and just even though it’s going to be hard.
But the beauty of choosing to be a free person with Christ,
and embracing the occasional pain that comes with it, is that God’s vision of
the “new humanity” comes to be a reality in us.
In the 2nd Century, St Irenaeus saw very clearly that “the
glory of God is humanity fully alive, and the life of humanity is the vision of
God.” The flowers in the field, the
birds in the sky give glory to God because they are what they’re made to be. And the glory of God, the radiance of God is
within us when we are what we’re made
to be: and we’re made to be free.
And that’s not only God’s vision, but it’s ours as well. James and John asked if they could sit with
Christ “in glory.” They didn’t ask if
they could share in his troubles and his miseries, but in his “glory.” And we’re just like that. We want “glory,” happiness, peace; we want
life to be good and fulfilling. We know we’re made to be free.
So why remain captive to all those things in life which stop
us from becoming part of God’s “new humanity?”
Why remain captive to others’ opinions of us? Why remain captive to the social ideas that
our human worth comes from our appearance, or the kind of house we have, or
whatever? Why remain captive to all that when the Son of Man came to ransom
us from that and to show us a better
way, a happier and more glorious way?
Christ shows us a “new humanity,” a new way to live
life. And he frees us from everything
that holds us back. All that’s left is
to take the first step: the first steps from captivity to freedom in God.
No comments:
Post a Comment