Fr. Rick Spicer

The opening reading from the First Book of Kings sets the mood for our readings this Sunday. A grumpy looking man showed up at a paint store, wearing a baggy T-shirt. Clearly he was not having a good day. From the top of his disheveled hair to the soles of his sneakers, he was splattered with paint. Standing in line to buy more paint, he looked pretty dejected. His T-shirt proclaimed his mood quite well. It read, “Life’s a bitch and then you die.”

My apologies if the punch line offended you yet I suspect a fair number of us can relate to the aspiring painter’s feelings. Like Elijah, who was quite discouraged, some of us may have cried out in much the same way, “This is enough, O Lord! Take my life for I am no better than my fathers.”

Elijah had good reason to be downcast. Things weren’t working out quite the way the prophet expected, nor did he feel life had been fair to him. Queen Jezebel threw him out of town for preaching against then killing her pagan prophets. He was now hiding in caves, wondering where to go next. Hungry and dejected, death seemed like a good option. He was exhausted, and shall we say, at the end of his rope.

Some of us have been there. We have had days when things didn’t go as planned. Hurt feelings led to broken relationships. Accidents or illnesses happen. Sometimes Murphy’s Law hits home and nothing seems to go right. When these misfortunes aren’t so minor or if too many happen at once, we also may feel that life isn’t fair and, like Elijah, we want to crawl off somewhere and die.

Notice that God didn’t accommodate Elijah’s plea. Instead of allowing him to die, God sent an angel to feed him, thus assuring him that he would be sustained on his journey.

His story is really our story. Elijah is a portrait of those who have reached rock bottom, of those who are hurting, feeling burnt out, let down, or discouraged. The story of this beaten down and frightened prophet is a reminder that however defeated we may feel, God is there to sustain us in our most trying and difficult times, giving us faith for our journey.

As I said, the discouraged painter wore a baggy T-shirt. If he could, I imagine God would add another line to this man’s litany, “Life is a blessing.”

When we focus on the spilled paint, lost opportunities, hurt feelings or broken relationships, we could easily overlook the fact that life is also God’s gift to us. If we would do as Elijah did and cry out to God in prayer when the chips are down, we give God the opportunity to sustain us on our life journey just as Elijah was.

God sent Jesus to sustain us on our faith journey. In today’s gospel, Jesus tells us, “I am the living bread that came down from heaven; whoever eats this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give is my flesh for the life of the world.”

We confess that the bread Jesus speaks of is present to us in the Eucharist, a gift we find hard to fully comprehend. Jesus offers himself as sustenance for a deeper and fuller spiritual life. A fitting question we ought to ponder is, “What does the Eucharist really mean to me?”

Numerous polls reveal that many Catholics see the Eucharist only as a symbol, not the real presence of Christ. Is the consecrated host, when offered to you as the “body of Christ,” only a piece of bread to you or really Jesus himself?

Our Church is clear in its conviction. The Eucharist is not a symbol. At communion, what is being offered isn’t bread, despite its taste and appearance. Based on what he said at the Last Supper, Jesus is as truly present to us as he was when he walked the streets of Jerusalem. The real presence of Jesus cannot be explained in a rational way yet in faith, we believe that in the Eucharist we receive both Jesus’ humanity and divinity. Our belief in the Real Presence is contingent on believing in his divinity.

There is no substitute for faith. Faith is what sustained Elijah on his journey. Faith is what kept Paul going. Faith is what brings us together today. Faith gives us food for our journey. As our faith deepens through prayer, our yearning for and appreciation of the Eucharist also deepens.

From its beginnings the Church has celebrated the Eucharist as a reminder that the resurrection did not happen only on Easter morning. The resurrection happens when we allow God to enter our lives to destroy the evil and depression that saps us of the will to live. Jesus continues to feed us with himself to give us new life. Since there is room for one more line on that baggy T-shirt, Jesus could add, “then you rise!”

The next time things aren’t going right, listen to Paul. He provides wise advice on how to treat those with whom we share our lives. Instead of being bitter or angry, be kind, compassionate, and forgiving. Then whisper a short prayer for those who could also be having a rough day so that they may also come to believe that even when the chips are down, life is a blessing and you will rise!  

We just heard John’s version of the loaves and fish that is repeated in all four gospels. The miracle of Jesus feeding so many with so little is a sign that in the days to come God would fill God’s people with much needed sustenance. As today’s psalm notes, “The hand of the Lord feeds us; he answers all our needs.”

Jesus certainly answered the needs of the hungry crowd that day. In John’s gospel, unlike the others, this event took place near the Jewish feast of Passover. The Last Supper, the basis of our liturgy, is linked to the Passover, but John doesn’t mention this incident in his gospel. This timing is significant since the Passover is the sacred meal of the Jews celebrating their freedom from slavery in Egypt and the Lord’s continual protection as they journeyed to the promised land of milk and honey.

Jesus was providing the crowd and us with a prelude to another Passover meal, namely himself. The Last Supper would be the first opportunity for the people of God to eat the body and blood of the Lord. John was speaking here of more than barley loaves and fish being multiplied. By the time he wrote his gospel, the young church had a deeper grasp of the miracle that took place on that hillside. With this sign, Jesus performs a prophetic action. Those who eat this bread will live in the house of the Lord forever.

Recall that when the Israelites crossed the desert, they complained of being hungry. God heard their grumbling and provided them with much needed sustenance known as “manna.” What this manna was is uncertain. What is known is that God took care of them and made certain they were fed. Moses told the people not to gather more than they needed and that the left over manna need not be saved.

In contrast, Jesus told the apostles to gather up the left over fragments so that nothing would be wasted. Notice that whatever hosts are not consumed during the Mass are saved in the tabernacle for what has been consecrated remains the body and blood of Christ to be later shared with those who could not be there to eat it, namely the sick.

When we receive communion, we are present at the Last Supper. We enter into an intimate union with God, who sent his son to provide us with food for our spiritual journey that nourishes our spiritual lives. His body and blood keeps us strong to better resist the devil and give us the strength to proclaim his kingdom.  We are blessed when receiving communion, knowing that the hand of the Lord is feeding us.

Just as Jesus had compassion for the multitude, it was compassion that brought him to earth in the first place. Compassion prompts him to be present to us here and now as we gather to celebrate the Eucharist, the meal in which he nourishes our spiritual hunger.

The Eucharist isn’t meant to be a personal individualistic encounter, a solitary supper, or your private party with Jesus. Its function is to form a community, which is one reason why we call this Holy Communion. We are a body of believers in Christ, willing to act in response to what he asks of us. The Eucharist is meant to move us from this gathering to the world out there to build the kingdom of God.

As Catholics, we don’t need science to tell us something is miraculous in order to believe it. In a miracle, the laws of physics are suspended or upended. If out of nothing God can create all that is, who are we to limit what God can do? Hence, with faith we believe that this sustenance we receive is not bread and wine. It is the Son of God, his body, blood, soul and divinity.

The devil is well aware of the power embedded in the Eucharist and is intent on discouraging us from believing in the potential of this sacrament to transform us into carrying on the mission of Jesus Christ in bringing about his kingdom. His strategy is simple and subtle, tempting us to give into self-centered, comfort seeking attitudes. When we do, we can be easily persuaded to forego attending Mass and dismissing the value of the Eucharist in our lives.

The devil can also persuade us to be uncaring about others. Hunger continues to be a very real problem even for some on this island who often hide in the woods rather than stand on street corners panhandling. They rely on caring people to feed them. How often do you care to bring something from your pantry to drop into one of our 3 P’s bins to help Good Cheer in its mission to feed the less fortunate?

In his letter, Paul urges us to live in a manner worthy of the call we have received. The food of the Eucharist isn’t changed into you. You are changed into Christ. You don’t become a clone of Jesus; rather Jesus reshapes you to love as Jesus loved.

We are challenged by the Eucharist to be caring toward others. Generosity should have a central place in the life of every Christian, and we get many opportunities in our everyday dealings with one another to practice it; not just giving things but also and more importantly giving of ourselves, our time, our energy, our talent and our love.

Joy is one fruit of generosity. You rarely meet a generous person who is sad and you will never meet a happy miser.

The readings bring to mind an advertising lingo, “Hallmark, when you care enough to send the very best.” God did care enough to send the very best. The Lord promised Jeremiah that he would send his son. This happened centuries later when Jesus came and cared enough to do his very best so that by dying on the cross, he redeemed us.

Twice Mark mentions Jesus’ compassion in this pithy gospel passage. Caring about his disciples, he suggests that they retreat to an out of the way place but before they could, the crowds mobbed them. “People were coming and going in great numbers, and they had no opportunity even to eat.” Jesus cared for the crowd as well. “Moved with pity for them, he began to teach them many things.”

The hallmark of being a Christian is obeying the greatest commandment, which is to love the Lord your God and your neighbor as yourself. We fail to do that at times when our prejudices blind us from caring about others.  Jesus’ concern brings to mind the tale of care-collector.

In the plaza of a certain village, collectors gathered, making a living collecting things other people discarded. The collectors discovered that once you had enough of certain discarded items, they become valuable again. The people in the village believed that if something was for sale, it must be worth buying. There were collectors of every kind, selling pots and pans, stamps and books, golf clubs and hats, along with comics and trading cards. The village had a sizeable collection of collectors.

One day an old man wandered into town and asked where the collector’s plaza was located. He carried a large sack that didn’t seem to burden him. When he found the plaza, he settled himself in a corner. The other collectors eagerly inquired about what was in his sack. He told them there was nothing in it but his lunch and jacket.

“You don’t have a collection of any kind?” they asked. “Aren’t you a collector?” “Oh, yes,” he said, “I’m a collector, but what I collect doesn’t fit in a sack. I collect people’s cares.”

The idea seemed rather odd to those listening so they asked for an explanation. “Well, you see, I learned that what everybody has too much of and always try to get rid of are cares, trials, burdens, sorrows, difficult times…all kinds of things that weigh them down and make life burdensome. So I offer to collect these cares from them and they feel better. Isn’t that simple?”

Some of the collectors who heard this thought this was silly but they left him alone since he didn’t seem to harm anyone. Soon, someone asked him how he collected cares and he replied, “Well, there is probably something in your life that is bothering you right now…some care that you have. Just tell me about it and I will add it to my collection.” “But how will that help me? Can you make the problem go away just because I tell you about it?” the inquirer asked. “No,” the care collector replied, “but you will feel better about it.”

So that person told the old man what was bothering him. When he finished, the care-collector nodded a few times and then put his hands together as if to scoop up something heavy and pretended to put it in his sack. “There, I have put it away. How do you feel?” he asked. The person who had shared his story said, “Why, I do feel better. It really worked. I think I can handle my problems better now!”

Word spread and soon others were lined up to give their cares to the care-collector. His spot became the most popular one in the plaza. Then one day he left town. Many cried when they heard that he was gone. In talking to one another, they observed that the old man really cared. “Who could possibly take his place?” they asked one another. Then someone piped up, “We can! Collecting cares still works! You can do it for me and I can do it for you! He showed us how!”

Everyone of us has felt pity at times: seeing the debris of a car wreck on the shoulder of the freeway, hearing about a friend’s illness, or seeing the devastation caused by forest fires or flooding. Whenever tragedy strikes, we reach out to others because we care. We have a hint as to how God cares about us when we care about others. All of us are capable of caring. The need to care is there but at times it’s overlooked. Think, for example, of how some people are the victims of racial prejudice or homelessness. When we care, we are living the gospel.

Jesus, our care-collector, wants to collect our cares, whatever they may be. We create this opportunity when we seek an out of the way place to pray or take time to celebrate the sacrament of reconciliation. Our desert place could be anywhere we can get in touch with our God…a bedroom, our car while waiting for the ferry, a supermarket checkout line, a doctor’s waiting room… any place where we can tune out the world’s noise and turn to the Lord within us.

Any place we can sit still and listen to the Lord and find within ourselves the strength to carry on knowing that the Lord fully cares for us. In those moments, we can quietly see for ourselves the many ways we can see that the hallmark of a good Christian is being a caring disciple.

In his last Sunday sermon before being assassinated in 1968, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., preached these words at Washington National Cathedral: “Cowardice asks the question, Is it safe? Expediency asks the question, Is it politic? And Vanitycomes along and asks the question, Is it popular? But Conscience asks the question, Is it right? And there comes a time when one must take a position that is neither safe, nor politic, nor popular, but he must do it because conscience tells him it is right.”

Dr. King was speaking of the prophet’s moment: that point when the prophet proclaims the truth of God’s justice and peace, knowing fully well the cost that will be exacted for proclaiming the truth and denouncing evil. Amos, whom we encountered in our first reading, was one such prophet.

In his times, there were many professional prophets who would prophesy for a fee.  But Amos wasn’t one of them. He was an arborist, selected by God to deliver his word and truth to the people of Bethel, which he did. They were facing destruction unless they changed their lives. Amaziah, their priest, ordered Amos to leave the country but Amos replied, “The Lord said to me, ‘Go, prophesy to my people Israel.’ ” This ordinary man became the vehicle of God’s truth.

Amos’ concern was focused on the message God had given him, not whether people would be impressed with him. We see the same scenario in the gospel. Jesus sends out his disciples to preach repentance. He groomed twelve ordinary men to do as Amos did. There was nothing extraordinary about them, whom Jesus commissioned to expel demons, heal the sick, and preach the good news. As with Amos, the word of God worked through them. And as with Amos, Jesus knew that they would encounter rejection. He told them, “Whatever place does not listen to you, leave there and shake the dust off your feet in testimony against them.”

Amos had been telling the people of Israel that they needed to repent and return to the basics of their religion, follow the commandments and give up their self-indulgent idolatries. He knew that what they were doing wasn’t right. You would think with God’s authority and power behind him, everyone would listen and obey, but his message was not comfortable, so they rejected it and sent Amos packing.

Eight centuries later, Jesus sent out his disciples, knowing that they too would encounter resistance to his message of repentance. Simply put, fallen human nature doesn’t like to be pushed outside of its comfort zone. Thus many chose not to listen to the disciples, rejecting their call to repentance and the opportunity to have their unclean spirits driven out.

Today, the Church is asking us to reflect on how well we listen to God’s prophets who endeavor to convey his words. Are we selective listeners, picking and choosing according to what fits our comfort zone? Or are we true followers of Christ, willing to love and obey him even when it means being willing to “hear what God proclaims; for he proclaims peace”?

Think of your heart as the house Jesus mentions here. If we welcome God’s message, his grace will come and stay there, bringing us peace, wisdom, and salvation. But if we don’t, God’s word will shake the dust from its feet and move on. St. Augustine used to say, “Beware of the grace that passes by, never to return again.”

Granted, listening to God can be disconcerting but God loves us too much to let us vegetate in our comfort zone. God knows that if we do, we will never truly seek the kingdom of heaven. Through the words of prophets, past and present, God seeks to lead us further along the path of spiritual maturity, further up the mountain of Christian wisdom, courage and holiness. For that reason, God is inviting us to be good listeners, listening to the whole message being shared instead of reacting to a line or two that generates discomfort and resistance. We have a duty to listen and allow God’s word to find a place in our hearts.

We have all failed to listen to God at times, failed to trust in God’s wisdom and goodness. That is why we have sinned, giving into our selfish tendencies and letting our fears override our faith. Today, Jesus invites us to renew our trust in him, make a fresh start as we venture out of this pandemic, making a point to come to Mass, to reaffirm our commitment to listen to him and follow where he leads, so he can fill our lives more fully with his grace.

In accepting his invitation, we need to take two steps. First we have to sincerely ask the Lord to forgive us for the times we haven’t listened and rejected his wisdom.  Nothing hurts God more than when we listen to the seductive voice of temptation more attentively than the loving voice of our Lord. God makes that easy by offering us the sacrament of reconciliation. Secondly, choose friends who will help you hear God’s voice, rather than lead you astray.

In our time and place there are prophets living among us who give their lives for their witness to God’s reconciliation, peace and justice. Dr. King wasn’t alone. God has called on many to speak quietly and fearlessly. At some time, we will face our own “prophetic moment.” Whenever you hear God’s prophetic voice, the truth, allow your conscience to embrace it with the courage of God’s wisdom to know what is right.