23 Sept 2018
25th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year B
It was a place of great intercultural mixing, a place where
differing religions touched each other.
And it was a place of testing for a people of faith. Now, we could be talking about our 21st
Century world, or we could be talking about ancient Alexandria, Egypt, where the
Book of Wisdom was written.
The Jews there were constantly being pulled in this direction
or that direction: ‘Think this;’ ‘Believe that.’ But the Book of Wisdom was written as a
reminder for them to be true to their faith and to their God—even
as they lived within a mix of cultures. And
this situation is exactly what we deal with today.
We’re followers of Jesus Christ, members of his Catholic Church,
and every day we’re influenced by ideas and beliefs
which may or may not be Catholic or even
Christian. Every day we have choices to make. Every time you listen to the news, every time
you go to a blog, every time you read the newspaper someone is trying to sell a
certain point-of-view. And the question is: What I am going to do with
all that? Who am I going to listen to,
who should I question? And, as we know, it’s
very easy to get caught up in all that, and lose our way.
Now, in the letter of James, he suggests that what’s behind
all the cultural divisions and arguments in (and in the Church) are our
“passions.” He’s saying that sometimes
we humans can feel so strongly about something—to the point
that it affects our physical being and happiness—our passion can be strong that we actually stop listening to
others; that we stop interacting with
other people.
For example, we can look at the immigration issue today. We know both sides of the argument. But, as we also know, people can be very
passionate about their view to the point that communication breaks down. And then you just have people shouting at
each other. And that’s not helpful. It some respects, passion has to be dialed down a little bit because, in reality,
immigration is a complex issue.
There are undeniable problems with families being
separated. But there are also real problems
with drug dealers and human traffickers coming into the country. There are also those people in the mix trying
to seek legitimate refuge. And our own
government does have a right and a
responsibility to oversee its borders and to do what it feels is best for its
people.
On this issue, the Church stands on both sides. Drug dealers and human traffickers should be
dealt with and kept out; men, women, and children seeking to come in should be treated
humanely and compassionately; and the country (per the social justice teaching
of the Church) has that right and responsibility to protect and exercise its
sovereignty. The Church has a pretty
“dispassionate” approach to this, and so it can see both sides. But this approach to the question of
immigration gets lost because passions run high, and people are divided.
Even right here in Mass, our passions—our beliefs
and philosophies—can divide us. You know, whenever there’s a parishioner
survey, there are generally a lot of critiques about the music
at Mass. We hear that: People love the
organ; people hate the organ. People want exciting,
vibrant music; people want calm, inspiring music.
People want new, modern music; people want traditional
hymns. No matter what you do, you
can’t win.
And these divisions are rooted in our passions (which aren’t necessarily bad)...our
passions, our beliefs and convictions about: who God
is, what Mass is about, what the Church is, and what kind of relationship faith
and culture should have. And all these
beliefs and convictions are shaped not only by what our faith tells us, but also by a whole society of
competing philosophies about life and faith; competing ideas about happiness
and fulfillment.
But the fact that we have all these ideas
and beliefs floating around is not the problem. You know, part of being
“Catholic” is that we’re interested in the wider “whole”—the entire Tradition
of the Church would collapse if we weren’t open to other ideas in the pursuit
of the truth of things.
The problem isn’t that there are a lot of ideas out
there. The problem is in taking on ideas and beliefs without first asking: “Is this really Christian? Is this
really Catholic?” It’s very easy to become so passionate and convinced about
an idea we have that we block out the bigger picture. It’s easy to be
carried away from the anchor of faith
and to go worshipping other gods, particularly the god which is our own sense
of rightness.
And—no surprise—we see this among the early disciples.
Jesus tried to tell them about his passion and death; but they wouldn’t
listen. They knew how the Messiah was supposed to be—and his being
put to death wasn’t part of the Messianic vision of things. And so, they
didn’t ask Jesus anymore questions. There
was a breakdown in their communion with Jesus because of their own sense of rightness—they knew what
was right (they thought).
And so, we’re not all that different from those Jews in
Alexandria, Egypt, way back when. We’re
not that different from those first disciples who honestly tried to listen to
Jesus. We’re in pretty much the same
boat.
And while we sit and ponder how to be a Catholic Christian in
the world today, Jesus plops himself down right in front of us and says, “I Am
the Way, and the Truth, and the Life. I Am.”
And that’s nice, but, you know, in our society today Jesus isn’t
all that relevant. Even among people of
faith, Jesus can so easily become “what I want him to be.” As a priest, it happens that I ask (or tell)
Jesus to help me do what “I’m doing.”
Jesus is easily overlooked.
And, in that, he’s like that child he put in front of the disciples—a
child who had no legal standing, who didn’t have much value in the eyes of the
world at that time. Jesus puts himself
in front of us and says, “Here. Do you
want a compass to find your way through life?
Here, take me—‘worthless’ that I am.”
And where does Jesus take us but to himself and…to his Church
that he’s been building since forever.
Ah, the Church—another “worthless and irrelevant” thing today. Jesus asks us to commit ourselves to a
raggedy child, impoverished, unimportant, weak, and outcast. He asks us to commit ourselves...to him—and
to somehow find truth and happiness in that.
That’s a pretty screwed up idea—according to many people we
might hear today. I mean, why “throw
life away” for him (or for anybody else)?
Of course, that’s not what Jesus asks.
We don’t have to stop listening to others. We don’t have to stop experiencing the wealth
of cultures in our world. Jesus simply
asks that we not let his voice get choked off in the midst of life around us;
that we not let his light get shoved under a bushel basket.
The world is a wonderful place with wonderful cultures, even
in the midst of terrible problems. But above
it all is Jesus, our Guiding Light, our “star of wonder, star of night, star
with royal beauty bright.” Above it all
is our God, who asks us to passionate about him,
to look up to see where we’re going;
to know what’s good, beautiful, and true in our world.
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