Fr. Rick Spicer

What an about face! Six weeks ago we heard Jesus saying in the eleventh chapter of Matthew’s gospel, “Come to me, all you who are weary and find life burdensome, and I will refresh you.” When we are feeling very much alone, this invitation is sweet music to our ears. Others may criticize us, judge us or misunderstand us but Jesus sends the message that we are always welcomed in his midst.

He comes across as one who intimately cares. No wonder, the Canaanite woman came seeking help for her emotionally troubled daughter and yet, at first, Jesus ignored her. The silent treatment makes some sense; after all, the Jews and the Canaanites were enemies. In spite of his snub, the woman persists with her plea, “Help me, Lord!” Now, instead of silence, Jesus puts her down. “It is not right to take the food of the children and throw it to the dogs.” How could the same Jesus, who once said, “Come to me,” have the shameless audacity to liken this woman to a dog? Whatever his motive may have been, this is not the music I imagine she wanted to hear.

Keep in mind that to Jesus and the disciples she was an outsider who would not be expected to understand his role as Messiah. After all, Jesus was there to bring the good news to the people of Israel. No wonder he ignored her at first. Not that he intended to be exclusive but he could reasonably presume that only the Jews would understand and value his presence as Messiah.

Perhaps the Gentiles couldn’t possibly understand what he had to offer yet she did. Unlike most Jews, she recognized him as the Messiah, calling him, “son of David.” Still, Jesus defends his rebuff, saying, “I wasn’t sent for you; I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” But the Canaanite woman was not about to be ignored. Persisting in her plea for help, she is quick with a fitting response after Jesus insults her. “Please, Lord, even the dogs eat the scraps that fall from their master’s tables.” To this, Jesus does an about face. “ O Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.”

To me, the real scandal of this gospel passage is not the language that Jesus used but the faith of this outsider. Her example of great faith leads me to wonder, “What about us? We are privileged to receive the Eucharist, which is offered every time the Mass is celebrated, yet would Jesus pay us the same compliment, “Great is your faith!” He didn’t say that to the disciples. In fact, he at times rebuked them for having little faith.

The Canaanite woman’s behavior is a reminder that our faith isn’t a given to be taken for granted. What we say and do in our own faith struggle with God can really make a difference not just in our lives but in the lives of others as well. When a guest at a wedding I once witnessed observed that fewer people around here go to church as compared to his hometown in Wisconsin, I told him that the Pacific Northwest was regrettably the most unchurched region of the country. His observation left me wondering, “Have the unchurched led many Catholics to become indifferent about their faith and their relationship with God? Has the Eucharist lost its meaning for many Catholics such that they see nothing wrong with missing Mass anymore? Ideally, it should be the other way around, that the persistent faith of the Christian community would be drawing the unchurched to God.

Sixty years ago, Eli Wiesel was one of the fortunate few to walk out of Dachau, a notorious concentration camp. He spent his life speaking of his experiences. Once in Detroit, he spoke on the subject, “After Auschwitz, Can We Still Believe?” Thin and fragile, Wiesel stood at the podium telling one story after another of the horror and despair of Dachau. Finally the stories ceased. His eyes dropped. There was no sound in the auditorium for what seemed like an agonizing eternity. Then he repeated the question, “After Auschwitz, can we still believe?” He shook his head slowly, “No, no,” he said, “But we must!”

Concerning whether or not to have faith, there is no choice. There was none for the Canaanite woman, none for Eli Wiesel, there is none for you and me. The message of this beautiful mother is “Choose to believe anyway!” You may not feel you are allowed to have faith, but have it anyway. You may not feel God loves you, believe that he does anyway. You may not think you are included but include yourself anyway. After all, even the dogs get the scraps that fall from the master’s table.

Isaiah says that a deep joy is to be expected by those who sustain themselves in prayer. They are the ones whom God calls to the holy mountain. This determined, tenacious, and pushy pagan woman saw in Jesus the very thing her daughter so desperately needed. Her persistence ought to embarrass those of us who are baptized but find ourselves too busy to pray.

I imagine she was hurt, yet she refused to be sent away empty-handed. “Woman, you have great faith!” Jesus told her. Could he say the same thing about us?

The multiplication of the loaves is the only miracle we find in all four gospels. Matthew tells us that, longing for the presence, healing and wisdom of Jesus, the crowds followed him for some distance to a deserted place, where they focused their attention on him, forgetting about their practical and physical needs. Having compassion for them, Jesus healed their sick and most incredibly, with five loaves and two fish, he fed them. They might have gotten their fill had they eaten elsewhere but here they experienced that which makes a meal truly satisfying, the experience of love.

This miracle becomes our miracle story every time we gather to celebrate the Mass. In the Eucharist, God fulfills the promise given in Isaiah of feeding us. “Why spend your money for what is not bread; your wages for what fails to satisfy? Heed me, and you shall eat well, you shall delight in rich fare.” For those who believe in the Real Presence of Jesus Christ in the Eucharist, this indeed can be a satisfying meal despite how few calories one takes in.

But some protest, “This piece of bread, this sip of wine does nothing to me!” If the miracle of the Eucharist has little meaning for you then perhaps you are too focused on something that can’t love you in return. Some of us are so busy with our pursuit of worldly goals and goods that we cannot or do not notice the one being who always has and always will love us unconditionally, namely Jesus Christ. Indulging in the pursuit of happiness is a natural human need, but keep in mind that anything earthly brings only fleeting moments of pleasure.

If the Eucharist leaves you feeling unsatisfied, then I would venture to say something is missing from your life; your awareness that God loves you. But how could that be? Paul begins his letter with a profound question, “What will separate us from the love of Christ?” He tells us that nothing will separate us from the love of Christ. Certainly not anguish, distress, persecution, famine, or nakedness for Paul remains convinced that nothing, not even angels or the future or any one else, not even death will be able to separate us from the love of God.

What a tremendous promise! There is no prison in the world strong enough to keep out God’s love. There is no tragedy in life so great that God’s love can not bring something good of it. There is no trial so shattering that God’s love cannot use it to make us into better persons. That isn’t to say, however, that we couldn’t find ourselves separated from the love of God though our own choice as one woman did.

Deborah sat alone in her apartment on 64th Street. Her apartment building in desperate need of repair from years of neglect was located in an old section of town. She sat motionless, gazing at her Christmas tree, or what was supposed to be her tree. She had found it two years ago abandoned in an alley. The tree was artificial, faded and broken in many places. The ornaments consisted of a few strands of tinsel, a string of colored lights, and a little plastic angel. Deborah got up, made herself a cup of tea and  sat down to play a game of solitaire.

Solitaire was her hobby. She would play for hours, some times forgetting to eat. The cards were bent and faded from many years of use. After a couple of hours of playing, she stood up, yawned, and took another look at her tree. She studied it closely. Funny, she thought, as she eyed the angel. It seems to be smiling. The way the light reflected made it glow, filling the room with human warmth.

The angel’s arms were outstretched as if they wanted to hug Deborah. She sat back down and listened to the outside noises. She then heard faint footsteps, gradually getting louder. She then heard Christmas carols being sung. She saw a handful of change on the table and thought about giving it to the kids. She got up to get the change, then stopped herself, thinking, “If I don’t make any noise, they’ll go away…” She never finished her  thought. A loud crash echoed through the room. Somehow, the angel had fallen off the tree and was now shattered. The angel’s look was now different. The angel was frowning now.

God would be frowning if we weren’t feeling his love. And if we don’t feel God’s love, we have only ourselves to blame. The choice is ours to walk with our God or ignore his love and open arms.

Today’s gospel was especially cherished by the early Church who saw Jesus feeding of the multitudes as the forerunner to the sacrament of the Eucharist. We, too, can perform wonders in our own time and place by imitating those four decisive “Eucharistic” verbs of Jesus: take, bless, break, and give. Namely, taking from what we have, blessing it by offering it to others in God’s spirit of love, breaking it from our own needs and interests for the sake of others, and giving it with joy-filled gratitude to the God who has blessed us with so much.

Christ calls on us to become Eucharistic people, to become the Eucharist we have received for others in our generosity, compassion, and our work for justice and reconciliation. Simply put, the miracle of the Eucharist comes alive for us when we make real the love of God in our simplest acts of kindness, generosity and understanding toward others.

Gregory, a budding research scientist in the fifth grade, was conducting an experiment on a grasshopper for his science project. He put the grasshopper on a table, leaned down until his face was inches from the insect, and screamed, “Jump!” The grasshopper leapt into the air.

Gregory then carefully removed one of the insect’s legs. He then leaned down and again screamed, “Jump!” The grasshopper responded as before.

Gregory repeated the process four more times, each time removing one of the grasshopper’s legs. Each time, the grasshopper leapt into the air, although each leap was less impressive than the one before.

Finally, Gregory removed the grasshopper’s last leg, leaned down and again screamed, “Jump!” The grasshopper did not move. Satisfied, the would-be scientist opened his journal and entered the results of his experiment. He wrote, “When all legs have been removed, the grasshopper became deaf.”

Gregory’s analysis is not so different from our own inability to understand why our own world, our families, even our own lives are not all that we would like them to be. We too can be deaf to the message that Jesus is trying to get across, one that if we were to hear it, could make a real difference in the world we live in.

Consider this parable, for example. We tend to think of the seeds as God’s word and the soils as the different attitudes people have toward receiving God’s word. Jesus astutely observes that our responses to his message can range from outright rejection to lukewarm interest to great enthusiasm. We can rightly assume that he is speaking of selfishness, despair, or materialism as those rocks, thorns, or weeds that prevent God’s word from taking root in our hearts.

Cautioning the disciples that people hear but do not always understand, Jesus then quotes from Isaiah to illustrate that unless you are ready to listen, you won’t get the message. Modern psychology has long observed that we only hear what we are ready to take in. If our minds are not open to what is being said, we simply won’t hear the message even if we have perfect hearing.

Jesus is quite observant of human nature. He notes that God’s word will become more present to those who make the time and space for God in their lives through prayer, much like the person who works out frequently will become more physically fit. On the other hand, those who do not cultivate any awareness of God in their daily lives are apt to lose what little perception of God’s love they already have.

Like Gregory, we sometimes fail to grasp the obvious. We fail to understand that love and justice are values that we must plant and nourish if our world is to become a better place and that these values must be sustained and cared for much like any plant seedling. Too many of us spend hours and hours on the job, then wonder why our families have become strangers to us. We carry our biases and prejudices like badges of honor yet wonder why violence strangles our world. We justify ignoring the cries of the poor around us, but don’t understand why nothing is being done for them. In short, we are deaf to hearing the challenge of this parable: let the word of God take root in our hearts so that we in turn become the sowers of the harvest of justice, peace and reconciliation that Christ calls us to become.

Whether we know it or not, we are all sowers of seed. By our attitudes, our beliefs, and our actions we can sow seeds of encouragement, joy, love and reconciliation. Every good word we offer, every kindness we extend, and every good thing we give is seed sown with the potential to make our world a better place.

This is why Jesus calls on us to proclaim the good news in every situation and relationship we find ourselves in. The mission isn’t all that overwhelming. We sow the seeds of God’s love and justice every time we do something so simple as saying, “Thank you,” to someone who has helped us, like the cashier in the check out line. We sow the seeds of God’s love every time we stop what we are doing to extend a helping hand to someone in need. We sow the seeds of God’s love anytime we welcome the stranger in our midst, like the new comer to our liturgy. We sow the seeds of God’s love each time we send a card to a friend who is ill.

We sow the seeds of God’s love whenever we invite the kid next door to play with us. We sow the seeds of God’s love anytime we stop to let the pedestrian cross the street safely. We sow the seeds of God’s love each time we think to smile. Conversely, in our selfishness, we could sow seeds of discontent, anger, discouragement, violence, abuse, and injustice. The bottom line is that Jesus is urging us to hear his message and realize that for better or worse what we say and do does make a difference in this world.

The lesson of this parable for us is clear: concentrate on hearing Jesus’ word and making it known to others. What you do or say may seem insignificant at the moment yet God will bring about the harvest in ways that we cannot imagine.

“We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights; that among these rights are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” With that bold claim, some men in Philadelphia on July 4, 1776, expressed why they sought to establish a new nation on our shores. To secure these rights, they noted, governments are instituted, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed.

On that day, America became a unique country. Unlike other nations that are shaped by race, religion, language, ethnicity, or geography, America is shaped by a multitude of peoples from all corners of the world, drawn to a common allegiance to its principles, as expressed in the Declaration of Independence and spelled out in its Constitution. As Americans, we bind ourselves to one another through the Constitution in order to “establish justice, provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessing of liberty for ourselves and our prosperity.”

A new order emerged that day, untested elsewhere until then, tested often since, yet still viable today. Film maker, Ken Burns, who has chronicled some of our country’s greatest heroes and achievements, once commented,
“Unlike every other country, which sees itself as an end unto itself, we see ourselves as evolving. We’re not satisfied. We’re not willing to rest on our laurels. We think we can get better. We think we’ve got someplace to go.”

Jesus proclaimed a new order as well when he said, “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves. For my yoke is easy and my burden light.” If this claim makes little sense to you, then place yourselves in the sandals of the ancient Jews who first heard those words and you would appreciate what Jesus is saying. They were burdened with countless, and in some cases, capricious regulations that had been legislated by the Pharisees, whom Jesus calls the wise and the learned for their interpretation of the Mosaic law. For example, their understanding of keeping holy the Sabbath literally allowed for no unnecessary work, and that even included swatting flies!

Rather than be saddled with the burdensome yoke of the law as interpreted by the Pharisees and Scribes, Jesus offers his yoke of faithful loving obedience to the will of the Father. If we would accept his yoke as he did, that is, the way to express our love for God, Jesus assures us that we  would find rest. That makes sense when you see that his yoke is aimed at preventing sin in our lives and as we know from personal experience, the consequences of sin are heavy burdens that many of us carry through life.

Jesus invites us to believe that like him, we can be holy simply by following his example of prayer and taking on his yoke of love. As Paul observes, it is the spirit, not worldly pleasures, that ultimately gives us life.

Coming meekly on the scene as Zechariah had foretold, Jesus calls on his followers to be dependent on God, the Father, much like children are dependent on their parents. Because our society values independence so much, many of us like to think that we can succeed on our own. Unlike a child who doesn’t hesitate to ask for help, we tend to do things on our own. Such pride can drive us further from one another, and distance us from God. We do not have to face life’s problems alone. Jesus is willing to walk beside us and help us as we travel through life.

Still, you might wonder, how can the yoke of Jesus be easy and his burden light? Seeing the best in people, loving one’s enemies, turning the other cheek, going the extra mile, forgiving someone 70 times 7 times, doing good to someone who would harm us, and sharing what we have with the less fortunate are all easier said than done. Yet, if we compare the Christian lifestyle to others, then we can see the point Jesus is making. Would you rather live with a “dog eat dog” approach to life? Do you see that as being easier than working together for the common good?

Living with a clear moral vision and abiding by ethical
standards as one finds in the teachings of Christ is not easy but it is easier than living in a spiritual vacuum where everything is relative and values shift expediently. It may not be easy to carry his yoke with love as one’s guiding force in life but can we pretend that living with prejudice and hatred is easier?

The readings in recent weeks have challenged us to embrace our Christian faith as a total way of life, that is, to follow Jesus by living according to his principles of love, without compromise or double standard.

Deep down we all yearn for peace. Not only the peace that comes with the absence of war, but peace within our personal lives as well. True peace, that which only God can give us, grows in the hearts of believers through the power of the Spirit. That peace can be found when we follow Jesus’ example of prayer and love.

When the signers of the Declaration of Independence declared liberty from a bondage that had deprived the colonists of the respect due all peoples, they still acknowledged our country’s dependence on God as the source of the truths they upheld and the freedoms they sought. As disciples of Jesus, we should bind ourselves through our faith to remind others that the principles upon which this nation was founded, life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, call on every one to respect all life from the unborn to the elderly. For the peace we seek cannot be ours unless we take on his yoke of humble, joyful service to one another.

The yoke of our lord is easy and his burden is light yet how often have we found ourselves burdened instead by the choice to sin? Humbly we seek forgiveness from our loving God, from whom all our blessings flow.

Lord Jesus, meek and humble savior, Lord have mercy. Christ Jesus, God’s love made flesh, Christ have mercy. Lord Jesus, protector of the lowly and the burdened, Lord have mercy.

Perhaps the most well known line ever spoken by Franklin Roosevelt comes to mind as I reflect on this gospel passage. “We have nothing to fear but fear itself.” Jesus tells us to fear no one, yet who among us isn’t afraid of something? We fear everything imaginable from spiders to thunderstorms and some of these fears stop us from enjoying the fullness of life.

To address that reality in her class, one fourth-grade teacher handed out sheets of paper to her students and asked them to write down all of their ‘I can’ts,’ namely, those things they believed they could not do but wanted to do. I can’t kick the soccer ball very far. I can’t get Debbie to like me. I can’t do long division with more than three numerals. Even the teacher made a list. I can’t get Dan’s mother to come to a conference. I can’t get my son to put gas in the car. I can’t get my spouse to use words instead of fists when he is upset. I can’t get along with my neighbor.

They wrote for ten minutes. Then the teacher instructed everyone to fold their sheets in half, and solemnly place their ‘I can’t’ lists in the empty shoebox on her desk. After adding her list, the teacher taped the lid on the box, and with her students in tow, marched out of the room, down the hall and out to the playground, carrying the box.

They marched to the furthest corner of the playground. There each student took turns digging the hole in which they were going to bury their ‘I can’ts.’ When done the box full of ‘I can’ts’ was placed in the freshly dug grave.  The teacher then delivered this eulogy.

“Friends, we are gathered here today to honor the memory of I can’t. While he was here with us, he touched the lives of everyone, some more than others. We have provided I can’t with a final resting-place. He is survived by his brothers and sisters, I Can, I Will, and I’m going to Right Away. They are not as well known as their famous brother and are certainly not as strong and powerful. Perhaps someday with our help, they will make an even bigger mark on the world. May I Can’t rest in peace and may everyone present pick up their lives and move forward in his absence. Amen.”

They returned to their classroom where a reception was held for I Can’t complete with cookies, popcorn and juice. As part of the celebration, the teacher unveiled a tombstone on which was written, ‘I Can’t’ May he rest in peace. The paper tombstone hung in the room for the rest of the year. On those rare occasions whenever someone said, “I can’t,” the teacher simply pointed to the tombstone. The student would then remember that I Can’t had been laid to rest and try again to solve the problem.

Most of us yearn to do what is right and good for the sake of others but for any number of reasons, we often hesitate. Fear may prompt us to say up front, I can’t do that. I can’t give that. I can’t be like Mother Teresa. I can’t be a saint. I can’t forgive. I can’t talk about my faith. Three times Jesus tells us not to be afraid of anyone or anything except God. Like the fourth graders, we need to bury our own I can’t excuses and do what we can, each in our own way, to bring the light of Christ into the lives of those around us.

Had I let my personal litany of I can’ts prevail, I would not be standing here. I will never forget first midterm exam in the seminary. Despite hours of study, my mind went blank. I left the room, wondering if I was cut out to be a priest. My family would not have blamed me for leaving the seminary after that first year but I chose to hang in there. If God knew me so well as to know the hairs on my head, then I could trust God would be with me through thick and thin.

Like the fathers in our midst who act out of love and concern for their children, God the Father endeavors to protect us. His safety is better realized when we seek to be holy and true. Only those who deliberately choose to deny God will have any reason to fear God in the end.

The dominant theme of the readings is that Christ will free us from our fears. The remedy he offers us is found in trusting God, believing in providence and in his Father’s love for us. The real root of all fears is finding oneself alone, like that continuous fear of the child of being abandoned. Jesus points out that we are worth more than many sparrows so be assured that God seeks to be with you every step of your life
journey.

To better realize God’s saving presence in our lives, we must think I can, not I can’t. I can love. I can forgive. I can pray. I can serve. I can honor. I can believe. I can resist the temptation to sin. I can share the good news of Jesus Christ. Like any loving parent, God isn’t asking the impossible of us. Instead, God desires to give us the grace to believe that life is worth living.

Any experienced mountaineer will tell you that scaling a peak is too dangerous to try alone. Likewise, scaling the peak of life is too dangerous to try alone. When we walk with God every step of the way, recognizing Jesus as the team leader who provides us with good direction, we will reach the heavenly peak someday. Otherwise, we could end up in the abyss of the Gehenna along with others who said, “I can’t” to God’s invitation to walk with his son every step of the way.