13 Oct 2019
28th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C
Allergies have been especially bad this year. For myself, I’ve been dealing with that for
about 24 weeks now. And it’s been kind
of miserable; it’s like I became a captive to these allergies. But then the doctor suggested I do a few
things, and it’s incredibly better. I
still have a cough in the mornings, and I have to keep up my regime of “nasal
care,” but it’s working.
And that’s maybe similar to what we see in the Scriptures
today. We have two cases of leprosy; one
is Naaman and the other is an unnamed Samaritan. And they’re more or less “captive” to their
condition. It sounds like Naaman was a
pretty successful military leader—in spite of his leprosy. However, it sounds like the unnamed Samaritan
was pretty much captive to his leprosy.
Now, both of them desired to be free of their illness, so
they went in search of healing. Naaman
was sent to the “man of God,” the Prophet Elisha. And the other leper called out to Jesus when
he saw him pass by. And, in doing that,
both of those men received some very clear instructions. It was like getting a prescription from the
doctor. Naaman was told to “go and wash
seven times in the Jordan” river [2 Kgs 5:10], and the other leper was directed
to “go show yourself to the priests” [Lk 17:14].
So, the two men did “what the doctor ordered,” and they were
healed. And not only that: they were
freed. They were no longer captive to
the disease of leprosy that had them in its grips. They were free to enter society again—because
lepers had to stay away as outcasts.
They were free to worship again—because they were then no longer ritually
unclean. They were free to love and be
loved in return. They’d been healed and
set free. They could be whom God
intended them to be when he made them “in the beginning.”
In short, we have a little snapshot of how redemption and
salvation work. In the beginning, God
created everything and called it “good.”
But then Evil came in made a mess of things; and we became captive to
sin and death, and everything else that holds us down. And so God sent the Law and the Prophets and,
finally, his Son Jesus to provide the remedy for sickness; to “save” us. And those who seek this saving love of God—and
follow his “prescription”—are freed; they’re redeemed. And, even if sin and death (and allergies) are
still around, we’re nonetheless not “captive” to them anymore.
This is what defines us as “people of God,” as “people of
faith.” It’s our central message as the
Church: that there is salvation, there is hope...through God and his ways.
Some people look at the Church and think, “Oh, that’s so
oppressive. All those rules and laws;
all that judgment. Where’s all the love
they preach about?!” But what they may
not realize is how oppressed they themselves are—living without God, without
the Law and the Prophets, without the commandments and prescriptions of God and
his Church to raise them up.
Now, that’s not to say the Church doesn’t get off track every
now and again; it certainly does—after all, we’re not God. We’re affected by evil, by the ways of sin
and death. But that doesn’t negate the
fact that the Church is the community of the redeemed, the community of those
who’ve been touched by the saving love of God.
Our own woundedness and brokenness doesn’t invalidate the Gospel
message, the message of salvation and how salvation works. In fact, our own brokenness—and how we’ve
each been touched by God’s saving love—is what makes the Gospel message
legitimate.
We follow God’s commandments not because we’re oppressed, or
because we’re miserable slaves. We
follow God’s commandments because we know they work. We hang on to them, we use them, and we’re
free. We follow the teachings of the
Apostles, too. And we do it because
we’ve experienced the truth, the goodness, and the freedom that comes from
living according to those teachings and Christ’s.
Maybe some of us have been touched by the voice of Evil that
whispers: “You’re not good enough. You
have nothing to contribute. You are
worthless.” And you let that sit inside
you for years, decades; you become a “leper.”
But then, one day, you hear the story of how someone just like you
encountered acceptance for the first time.
And it was acceptance offered by someone who was a firm believer in
God’s commandment to “love your neighbor as yourself.” And, at that moment, you knew firsthand what
salvation felt like. You were freed from
being captive to others’ lies about yourself that, long ago, you’d accepted as
true.
And then, you, now a redeemed person, are excited to get on
with living a new life in freedom. And
it feels great, except...you have a nagging disdain in your heart for those who
hurt you in the past. And you can’t let
it go. You just can’t let it go. And so, you find yourself still captive to
sin and death. Only, now it’s your own
unforgiveness that keeps you captive.
You’re captive to yourself.
And—importantly—you don’t want to be.
So you call out to Jesus for help, and he brings to mind
immediately that prayer he put inside us: “Forgive us our trespasses, as we
forgive those who trespass against us.” And
then you remember his commandment: “Love your enemy, and pray for those who
persecute you” [Mt 5:44]. And you let
the law of God, and the teachings of Christ and his Apostles, be your ticket to
freedom.
Laws aren’t meant to make us slaves. They’re not there to oppress us. They’re meant to free us. They’re like on ramps to the highway of
salvation. There’s no other way to get
on the highway. And so, we pray for
those who are captive to the lie that God’s laws are oppressive and
stifling. We pray for those who are
captive to...whatever, but who don’t realize it.
And that realization is key.
A few weeks ago we talked about sin, and how increased awareness of sin
is an essential part of the “New Evangelization.” Jesus “came to call sinners,” so if people
are unaware of their sins, they don’t really have any use for Jesus—at least,
not for what Jesus came to do.
This week, though, the focus isn’t so much the sins that we
do. Instead, it’s how we are each touched
by sin (and death and evil)—but not by our doing. Naaman and the other leper hadn’t done
anything wrong. They’d simply been
“captured” by this disease, leprosy.
And—importantly—they knew. Of
course, that’s a disease which is pretty easy to see. But what about the evil, and sin, and death
that’s touched us that is not so easy to see; “bad things that happen to good
people,” and that we’re not entirely aware of?
We already mentioned those lies that others tell us about
ourselves that we believe. Those can be
very insidious. What about those of us
who feel alone or cast out? Those who
feel abandoned? It’s not uncommon among
youth; it’s not uncommon among the elderly and the homebound. What about those of us who are touched by
envy—a grasping envy which cannot share in others’ happiness and
blessings? What about those of us who
are slaves to what others think? That’s
a pretty common “ailment” among people.
The realization of our own woundedness is key, because that’s
what we lay before the Lord and ask him to make better. Jesus can’t “save” us if we don’t know what’s
wrong, or if we don’t bring it to him.
It’s like going to the doctor.
The doctor can’t help you if you don’t tell him or her what’s
wrong. The doctor can’t do anything if
you yourself don’t know that something’s wrong.
So, realizing our own woundedness, our own brokenness is an essential
part of the “New Evanglization;” it’s an essential part of being touched by the
healing, saving love of God.
In another couple of months (already!) we’ll be celebrating
Christmas. And it’s a joyful thing we
celebrate, most of all because: “The people who walked in darkness have seen a
great light; Upon those who lived in a land of gloom a light has shone” [Isaiah
9:1-2]. We celebrate the coming of the
light into our own personal darkness, the coming of the One who has the keys to
set us free. But it’s a joyful thing
only if we realize that we’re captive to a certain “gloom”, and that what he
has is exactly what we need. Among other
things, that’s what it makes a deeply joyful holiday.
“Sleigh bells rings, are you listenin’?” Jesus is coming to town, but it isn’t sleigh
bells that are ringing, it’s the keys of heaven that are ringing. He’s the one who has them, Jesus, who has
been “sent to bring good news to the afflicted, to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim liberty to captives, and release to the prisoners” [Isaiah 61:1].
The story of salvation is ours. Each of us is a part of its message of joy
and hope. Each of us has been created
good in the eyes of God. Each of us has
been touched by Evil in some way, and we can’t seem to shake sin and
death. And each of us has heard the
“good news” of the saving love of God in Christ. We’ve heard and, hopefully, we’ve experienced
it. The question is: Do we know it? Do we believe it?
There’s so much talk today about declining numbers of people
going to Mass, the priest shortage, and the increase of anxiety and despair in
the world. It’s no coincidence that this
is all happening as the world increasingly pushes God to the side—like never
before in human history.
Our culture pushes the truth of our own woundedness, and the
truth of God’s redeeming love for us, aside.
(And the enemy isn’t the culture, the enemy is the Enemy who distorts
the culture). And when that happens—when
we’re pulled apart from God—what’s left then, but to despair, to worry about the
shortness of life (which apparently ends when you die—not). What’s left but to stop worshipping God, to
stop turning to God whose very existence is apparently nothing but a fairytale
(not). What’s left then but for men to
stop giving themselves to Christ in the priesthood? After all, what’s the point if you’ve never
known the gracious and saving love of Jesus?
Why commit yourself to him? Why spend
your life sharing him with others?
And so, this is important.
The message of salvation is important; this message of hope and
joy. Each of us has been created good in
the eyes of God. Each of us has been
touched by Evil in some way, and we can’t seem to shake sin and death. And each of us has heard the “good news” of
the saving love of God in Christ. We’ve
heard and, hopefully, we’ve experienced it.
The question is: Do we know it?
Do we believe it?
As members of a redeemed people, do we know we have been
redeemed, that salvation is ours? Not
just once on the Cross, but every day?
God help us to hear the words of Saint Paul today: “Remember
Jesus Christ, raised from the dead.” If
we want to be raised up, if we want to be healed and made whole—not only at the
end of time, but even now, today, and every day—we want to follow the doctor’s
orders. We want to remember Jesus Christ
and all he said, did, and taught. We
want to remember him and his Apostolic Church, with whom he shares those
all-important keys of heaven.
“Remember Jesus Christ, raised from the dead,” Saint Paul
says. Salvation is ours in Christ Jesus,
today and every day. May God heal any
doubts we have about that, and bring us joy, thankfulness, and abundant life.
