Homily for 25 Aug 2019

25 Aug 2019

21^st Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C

Last week we talked about motivation, and what inspires us to do what we do.  And we saw that having a “vision” is important.  Jesus had a vision; it was of “the joy that lay before him”—that’s what motivated him to endure the cross.  The Saints all have their own visions, too, that motivate them, that compel them to live in a particular way.  The “vision” helps give us that “fire” that Jesus talks about; the fire of intentional, purposeful, meaningful life in God.

But the Letter to the Hebrews follows up this week with a critical concept with respect to “the vision;” and that is “discipline.”  The vision can be exciting to think about.  But there’s the discipline that comes with attaining the vision and living the vision.  In fact, discipline itself is part of the vision.

When the runner decides to run a marathon, he or she has to prepare for it.  The runner has to be disciplined enough to eat right, to train properly, and to run the race not wildly but with self-control and a good pace.  When someone wants to be a successful business leader, he or she has to be disciplined enough to study good business practices, and to practice good business practices.  The business leader has to be disciplined enough to be a good role model for his or her employees.

For someone to be a good priest, he has to be disciplined enough to care more about what’s right and just, than what’s popular.  He has to have enough discipline to pray on his own, without someone reminding him to pray.  He has to practice the discipline of self-control, the discipline of charity, the discipline of being both loving and encouraging, as well as corrective and...corrective.  I figured out there’s a reason why we call the priest “father.”

And, lastly, when the Christian is determined to live the Christian vision of things, he or she has to be disciplined in all the things necessary to attain that vision.  It’s why those basics of Christian living are preached on over and over again: forgiveness, mercy, patience, honesty, self-control, charity, faith, hope, self-giving, neighborliness, and so on, and so on.  If we aspire to live a good Catholic Christian life, then discipline is an unavoidable part of the deal; it’s an inescapable part of the vision.

Jesus says as much when tells the people, “Strive to enter through the narrow gate.”   And you think of a narrow gate, and immediately we think of something that constricts us; something that squeezes and makes us feel uncomfortable.  But that’s what discipline feels like.  It feels constricting on our personal freedom, it squeezes us and makes us let go of some things we want to hang on to, it makes us suck in the gut or feel the pangs of adjusting our diet.  Discipline does that. 

If you’ve ever striven to do anything, you know that it takes a certain stick-to-itiveness—especially when the going gets rough.  But...you stay with it, you endure the sweat and the irritations; you power through the setbacks and the moments of wanting to give up.  And then...you begin to see it.  You begin to see your goal taking shape.  And it makes all the discipline it took to get there worth it.  Sometimes we call it “the thrill of victory.”  But it’s only a thrill if you’ve fought to get there; if you’ve gone through the narrow gate of discipline.

Now, that’s a very positive way to talk about “discipline”.  But there are also plenty of negative attachments to it as well, where “discipline” becomes “punishment.”  And then we can talk about: detention, losing privileges (car, telephone, and so on), dragging out a mop and bucket to do some cleaning.  Maybe for adults it would be the punishment of being publicly rebuked, the punishment of fines or jail time, the punishment of being shunned by others.

It’s interesting, though, in that these negative punishments have (or should have) the same purpose as the discipline of an athlete.  Discipline, generally speaking, is supposed to be instructive; it’s supposed to give guidance.  When the Letter to the Hebrews uses the word “discipline”, it means some “instruction that trains someone to reach full development (maturity).”  It’s some form of instruction that trains a person to reach his or her full potential.  And this is why, the Letter says, to “not disdain the discipline of the Lord or lose heart when reproved by him.”

If we feel that the Lord is somehow disciplining us, that’s not a reason to be worried or to think God does not love us.  It’s just the opposite.  When someone comes to the confessional with their sins, I will sometimes remind that person that one way God cares for us is by his bringing our faults to our attention.  When I was in college taking organ lessons, every single lesson the professor would point out my mistakes.  But she did that so I could hear what she was hearing, so I could be a better musician.  She did it because she cared.  And the same is with God.

The Lord brings attention to our faults as a matter of discipline, as a matter of being trained in the ways of God, in the ways of good living.  And that is a loving thing to do.  Of course, God also lifts our spirits when we’re doing things well, when we’re learning and growing.  That’s all part of a living a life of discipline.

I always get a little nervous when I hear somebody preaching only the old fire-and-brimstone way of God...because God isn’t all that.  And I get just as nervous when I hear somebody preaching about God only as though he were a big teddy bear with nothing but sugar and honey to share...because God isn’t all that either.  

Now, Jesus certainly preached the fire-and-brimstone.  We heard it in the gospel today: “And there will be wailing and grinding of teeth when you see [all these other people] in the kingdom of God—and you yourselves cast out.”  Jesus also preached the teddy bear when he calls God the Father “Abba,” that is “papa.”  God is both.  God is tender and unconditionally loving; God also disciplines and teaches through discipline.  God is both.  And, in fact, God’s brand of discipline and God’s love go hand-in-hand.

And so, the Letter to the Hebrews is right: when we’re disciplined the Lord, it’s actually a cause to give thanks.  It means God cares enough to steer us in the right direction.  It means God sees the potential in us, and he wants us to live the fullest vision of life we can. 

“Strive to enter though the narrow gate,” Jesus says.  Discipline is like the narrow gate.  Jesus himself is the gate; God is our primary “disciplinarian,” our primary teacher.  But there’s that verb, “strive;” “strive to enter through the narrow gate.”  In other words, have the vision of good Catholic living; have it, own it, love it, and deliberately seek the discipline it takes to see that vision come true.  “Strive” for the vision.

If you want to have more prayer time in your life, then strive to ensure it happens.  Put something on your nightstand to remind you pray before you go to bed.  Put the mealtime prayer up on your refrigerator as a reminder to pray.  Deliberately choose to do that.

If you want to get over that voice in your head that just ruminates about this person or that person, then strive to get over it.  When you come into church, light a candle for that person and pray for their good.  Do it once, do it twice, do it until you genuinely stop ruminating, and you get on with life. 

If you want to be more disciplined by the Lord, then strive to be open to whatever tools he’s using to mold and shape you.  In the Prophet Isaiah and in the Gospel, it was other people—the “nations”—and God’s acceptance of them that challenged people’s hearts to be like God’s.  The happenings of life around us can serve God’s purposes.  “God, help me to be disciplined by the challenges I face today.”  “Strive to enter through the narrow gate.”

It’s important to have a vision of intentional, purposeful, meaningful life in God.  Have the vision, love the vision, live the vision—with discipline, the loving discipline that comes from Jesus, the Narrow Gate himself.

Homily for 18 Aug 2019

18 Aug 2019

20^th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C

A basic message we get from Scripture today is: Keep going, persevere in faith, live with a fire in your spirit.  In a way, it’s the voice of the “cloud of witnesses,” who are like the fans alongside a race course, cheering the runners on.  “Keep going!  Persevere in faith!  Live with a fire in your spirit!”  And that can certainly be helpful to hear.  But, at the same time, it can be kind of annoying to hear...if we lose sight of the end goal, if we forget why we started to run the race in the first place. 

The question “why” really jumps out from a reading of the Scriptures today.  Why do we do...anything?  What motivates the runner to run a marathon?  What motivates politicians to take the positions they do, and do that in the manner they do?  What motivates the baker to bake a pie for the county fair?  What motivates the Christian to be a Christian, to be a Catholic?  Why do we do...anything that we do? 

I imagine if we each thought about it, we’d come up with a whole bunch of answers, depending on what it is we’re talking about.  But I also imagine there’d be some common themes.  What motivates us?  Maybe the idea of: fulfillment, satisfaction, or personal well-being; being a good neighbor, a good citizen, looking out for what’s good, right, and just; doing things for the betterment of others, out of love for others, out of love for God, love of country, love of a particular way of life; the experience of being alive; the experience of being part of something.

If the purpose behind what we’re doing is something we’re drawn to, well, we’ll probably persevere until we reach our goal.  We’ll probably keep going, and live “with a fire in our spirit” just naturally.  When we consider Jesus and what compelled him to do what he did, we know he stayed the course because...he had a clear vision of where he was going.  The Letter to the Hebrews says: “For the sake of the joy that lay before him he endured the cross....”

For the sake of the joy that lay before him....  Jesus had “joy” in his sights; specifically, the joy of being with the Father again.  That was his goal; that was his vision.  And that’s what kept him going.  Even when others opposed him, and persecuted him, and put him to death, he powered through.  The vision, the “joy that lay before him” is what put the fire in his belly to persevere, to live well and truly while on earth.

And we see the same with all the Saints. Saint Francis and Saint Clare had a vision of total dependence on the providence of God, total abandonment to his good will.  And they didn’t let anything stand in between them and that vision.  Saint Gianna Molla had a vision of respect for life.  And when she was pregnant, and was encouraged to have an abortion, she said no.  She lived the vision of life—even at the expense of her own.

Saint Pope Pius X had the vision of beautiful liturgy (him and many others), where Mass would be truly a meeting between the living God and his faithful people.  And he did everything in his power to support that vision.  St. Catherine of Siena had a vision where the Church would have its act together.  And so, she didn’t hesitate to call the bishops and the pope on the carpet for not having it together.  The Saints all had (and have) a vision before them; a vision that has something to do with the Kingdom of God.  And, what’s most important is that they don’t lose sight of the vision.  That’s the “crown,” that’s the “prize:” attaining the vision.

And this idea of “the vision” is fundamental to us and our life.  Why go to Mass?  Why be merciful?  Why stand up for something?  Why give my time?  Why give my money?  Why do...anything?  That question “why” is all-important because it makes us consider what it is that we’re living for; that is, “the vision.” 

When people ask me why I became a priest, it wasn’t because I wanted to go to finance meetings.  It wasn’t because I wanted to know more about boilers and building codes.  And it certainly wasn’t because I wanted to be responsible—legally and canonically—for everything that happens in a parish and school.  I became a priest because I had a vision of a life devoted to God and his ways.  Pure and simple.

It’s also the basic vision the Church has of its priests; that they will assist the people of God in their devotion to him and his ways.  Interestingly, though, that vision—it seems—is often put on the back burner.  Other, “more pressing” things easily overtake that vision.  And then, pretty soon, you don’t have anybody in the parish being a spiritual “head;” an administrative head, yes, a financial and organization head, yes.  But, a spiritual head?  Not as much, or not as strongly.

I sometimes wonder if the trickle of priestly vocations we have is due, at least in part, to an impoverished vision of what we’re about—either as a Church or as priests (or both).  If there’s one vocation that could really be fostered today is the vocation of prophet.  Among other things, the prophet is someone who keeps others on track; they remind others of the vision, of what it is they’re living for. 

There’s a big difference between the time in which the Scriptures were written, and our 21^st Century world.  For the past six- or seven-hundred years, Christianity has really taken a beating.  And, in the last one hundred fifty years or so, the basic idea of the religious or spiritual sense—the idea that there is God or “the gods”—has also been pummeled. 

When the Letter to the Hebrews was written, God was a given, faith in Jesus was a given (for believers).  That letter (or, at least, the portion we heard today) was meant to encourage.  It was meant to encourage people who already had the vision; who were invested in the vision.  But, today, the Letter to the Hebrews lacks some context and relevance, because it depends on the hearer already having a commitment to the vision.  If the vision isn’t there, the letter doesn’t mean anything.

But that’s where we find ourselves today.  Now, certainly, there are pockets of people who are very definitely committed to the vision of God and his ways.  And there are pockets of people who, at least, have an inkling of the vision; who have not written off God and faith as useless.  But those people—us—live within a sea of doubt and non-faith. 

So often, the centuries before the Renaissance are called the “Dark Ages”—as opposed to the “Enlightenment.”  The “Dark Ages,” some say, is that time in human history when people were intellectually “dark,” when they were “dim-witted,” when they were...stupid; when they were fooled into believing in God and faith.  The “Enlightenment,” they say, is when people stopped believing, and started using their brains; when they became “enlightened.”

Today, however, from the standpoint of faith, there are many who think that right now we’re living in an honest to goodness “dark age.”  Human reason is good, science is great.  But without faith, without God, we’re just lost in the dark.  And that darkness can be consuming, sometimes, to people who have the Light within them, who have a vision of a something else impressed upon them by God their Creator.

And those are the ones—we are the ones—who have the challenge of staying true to the vision, even as the “cross of darkness and ignorance of God” is all around us. 

Now, you might say, “Father, I don’t have the vision.  My faith is kind of dry.  I’m not really sure why I come to Mass, other than out of habit.  I don’t know that I’m moving toward... anything.”  And, to that, I would say: Let’s talk.  It’s too individual of a question to really address in a homily.  So, I would say, let’s sit and talk.

If you notice, I haven’t really tried to lay out “the vision” in this homily.  And that’s because each of us is motivated by different things, by different visions.  From a Catholic standpoint, those visions all connect to the one Kingdom of God.  But there are many ways to approach God and faith; different ways to appreciate what God has in store for us.

Some of us are motivated by a vision of excellent worship.  And that’s what we dedicate ourselves to—for love of God.  Some of us are motivated by a vision of harmony and cooperation among God’s people—or people in general.  And so we dedicate ourselves to that vision—for love of God.  Some of us are motivated by the vision of just contemplating God and his beauty and truth, like Mary sitting at the feet of Jesus.  And so, we embrace prayer—intense prayer, as our purpose in life—for love of God.

The Kingdom of God is like a many-faceted jewel.  You can come at it from different directions, with different vantage points, but it’s one and the same Kingdom.  And the visions we have of God and Christian living and what lies beyond are also many-faceted.  The important thing is to have the vision—even if it’s a little foggy to start.  Have the vision, love the vision, be intrigued and motivated by the vision, and go deep—no matter the cost.

That’s the “fire” Jesus refers to; the fire of intentional, purposeful, meaningful life in God.  Have the vision, love the vision, live the vision—no matter the cost, no matter what.