2005

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.

A bishop in the south of London came out of the cathedral one day and saw a small boy playing in the gutter. He asked the lad what he was doing with the mud. “I’m making a cathedral,” he replied. “Well,” the bishop said, “if you have a cathedral, you must have a bishop.”

“Nah,” said the boy, “I ain’t got enough muck to make a bishop.” Sadly, several years ago, the news media had plenty of muck on hand due to the poor judgement of some bishops in dealing with clergy misconduct across the country. There remains a need for healing in our Church.

Christ doesn’t use muck to make bishops nor does the Church as we witnessed last Monday when two of my brother priests were ordained to serve as bishops for the Church of Western Washington during a liturgy that filled Saint James’ Cathedral with much joy. As Matthew told us in the gospel, Jesus summoned his disciples to carry on his mission so that peoples everywhere would hear the good news that God loves them unconditionally.

Notice that he didn’t choose saints. To the contrary, Jesus chose a pretty ordinary lot of sinners, hardly qualified to be evangelists. Peter publicly denied him on the eve of his crucifixion. Matthew was a despicable tax collector, James and John greedily sought places of honor, Thomas was full of doubts, Judas betrayed him for 30 pieces of silver, and in the end, they all abandoned him. Yet, in spite of what they did or failed to do, Jesus loved them unconditionally.

That is also the underlying message in the first reading as evidenced by the line, “I bore you up on eagle’s wings.” What is the meaning behind this image? Scientists in the Sinai observed that eagles taught their young to fly by nudging them out of the nest. The young eaglet would drop, but until it learned to fly, the mother eagle would swoop down under her young with wings spread out so that the baby bird could land on her back. This process would be repeated until at last the eaglet mastered the art of flying. By using an image that the Israelites could relate to, the author of Exodus conveys the message that God passionately loves them and in the face of whatever hardships and trials they would experience, God would be there for them.

That insight prompted me to carefully read the verses in the song, On Eagle’s Wings, by Michael Joncas. “You who dwell in the shelter of the Lord, who abide in his shadow for life, say to the Lord, my refuge, my rock in whom I trust.” Is this a true reflection of where you are today? Do you see the Lord as your refuge, as one who can be trusted? Or do you feel betrayed because some of those to whom the Lord entrusted his mission violated the promises they made?

One friend, still angry over how some bishops condoned the sexual misconduct of their priests, was not so certain she could remain Catholic. Judging by recent headlines, she isn’t alone in her feelings that no solution offered by the bishops would be adequate enough to restore the trust that has been lost. Perhaps you know someone who has left the Church because of the scandal, but leaving the Church is hardly the solution. Certainly not if we trust that God has and will continue to provide all that we need to experience salvation.

What has happened since the scandal broke in Boston three years ago became a wake up call for all of us, especially for our bishops and us priests. One American theologian observed that the crisis created by this scandal is ultimately about fidelity. How faithful are we to the gospel of  Christ?

The mission Jesus entrusted to the 12 apostles and to those who followed in their footsteps is an awesome one, to say the least. That mission is to proclaim and live the message of repentance and forgiveness. As history points out, some bishops, priests, and theologians fell short of carrying out their mission by dissenting from certain Church teachings and values such as its moral standards regarding sexuality. You could say that the devil seduced them into tolerating what in the sight of God is sin. Sooner or later, sin, that is, any action displeasing to God, is bound to result in harm as well as deep hurt.

God didn’t make us to simply obey a bunch of rules yet they were given to us for good reason, to spare us from the hurt caused by sin. To successfully deal with the many moral decisions that must be made, we need to have and use a well-thought out conscience. That is developed through prayer and an ongoing study of our faith and its principles, which provide us with a certain measure of guidance and direction. If it is to spare us from the consequences of sin, a well thought out conscience must be solidly grounded in the wisdom of our Judeo-Christian ethics, not simply on the emotions of the present moment or the values promoted by our secular society. Jesus, we heard, was moved with pity at the sight of the
crowds because they were troubled and abandoned, like sheep without a shepherd. The scene is no different for us today. We stand in need of shepherds ourselves, because wandering off on our own will not bring us any closer to God. If we want to remain close to God, we must deepen our faith, rather than abandon it. As the song, On Eagle’s Wings, points out, by placing our trust in the Lord, God will hold us in the palms of his hands.

A farmer was the proud owner of a very beautiful horse. One day he rode the horse into town and tied the animal to the hitching post in front of the general store. Two thieves, passing through, spied the handsome horse and decided to steal it. They also decided on a clever strategy to carry out their plan. One of them untied the horse and rode swiftly away. The other remained by the post. When the farmer emerged from the store and saw that his horse was gone, he was about to shout for help when the conspirator walked up to him. In a sad, low tone he said, “Sir, I am your horse. Years ago I sinned and for my sins I was punished. I was changed into a horse. Today my sentence is over, and I can be released if you will be so kind.” The farmer was dumfounded, yet touched by the story. So he sent the man away wishing him well in his new life.

Several weeks later the farmer went to a fair in a neighboring town. Great was his surprise to see his own horse for sale there. After gazing long at the animal to make sure that his eyes did not deceive him, he walked over and whispered in the horse’s ear, “So … you’ve sinned again!” Being human, we sin repeatedly. Fortunately, we don’t turn into a horse when that happens but our humanity is diminished when we do. And to restore our lost humanity and transform ourselves into the fully human person God wants us to be, we are called to repentance.

The Gospel writers tell us that the haughty righteous Pharisees criticized Jesus for many things, including, as we just heard in today’s Gospel, associating with sinners. In their opinion, God has no tolerance for sinners. After all, a sinner is one who consciously opposes God either by living an immoral life or by following a dishonest or disreputable occupation. This definition would, of course, include the tax collectors and prostitutes who were shunned by the Pharisees and even by the “ordinary people,” but not by Jesus who chooses to dine with them.

In response to the Pharisees’ criticism of his actions, Jesus responds, “Those who are well do not need a physician, but the sick do. Go and learn the meaning of the words, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ I did not come to call the righteous but sinners.”

Which group do we tend to place ourselves in? Do you see yourself as a righteous devout Christian or as a sinner in need of forgiveness? The truth is, everyone sins. John points this out in his letter, “If we say we have no sin in us, we are deceiving ourselves.” To follow Christ, we must first admit that we are sinners constantly in need of his divine mercy. In return, he challenges us to look at our ways and our priorities. Jesus, we are told, desires mercy, not sacrifice. How odd, you might think. After all, isn’t sacrifice a sign of love? Not necessarily. Think of the workaholic father who spends countless hours, working overtime to provide his family with what he thinks they want yet is too busy to spend any time with his children. His son would certainly feel more loved if his father spent time playing with him instead. In effect, our readings today challenge us to become more and more God-centered, which can be a formidable task for those of us with busy routines. How God-centered can we claim to be if we won’t even commit ourselves to attending Mass every weekend? And for those of us who do come to Mass, how God-centered can we claim to be if unlike Jesus, we refuse to truly forgive someone who has offended us?

We may sacrifice our time to come and pray, but are we extending mercy to those in need of our mercy?

Fr. Ray Carey, a priest whom I know in Portland, Oregon, relates this remarkable example of mercy. One day, a doctor came to treat a nun who was dying of cancer with a powerful new drug. In a moment of distraction, he injected her with a dose that was much too potent. He immediately realized his fatal mistake. Seeing the horrified expression on his face, the nun knew what happened. She grabbed the doctor and said, “I absolve you for what you’ve done. You must continue your work and not be crushed by guilt.” Then she turned to her friends and said, “I forbid you to bring a case against this doctor or the hospital.” Two hours later, she died.

Real forgiveness is hard for us to comprehend. We tend to think forgiveness means denying that sin exists. “Don’t worry. It was nothing. Forget it.” Some people even talk of unconditionally accepting others but that love vanishes when they are personally offended and they lash out, determined to get even instead. How often have you heard someone say, “I am very forgiving and accepting but what so and so did is unforgivable.”

Jesus did more than simply talk about mercy. He did outrageous things like eating with sinners to demonstrate mercy. He wanted people to see mercy in action. Ultimately he would do for us what the nun ill with cancer did for the young doctor. Dying on the cross, Jesus absolved us from our sins and even from our guilt. Not by saying, “Don’t worry, you didn’t mean it. It was nothing.” No, our sins are quite real, but by his example Jesus wants to make us conduits of his divine mercy. So, learn the meaning of the words, “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.” What better way can we prove that we are indeed following him?