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.