2006

Ah, even Jesus gave pop quizzes.  In today’s gospel he poses two rather interesting questions to his disciples. First he asked, “Who do people say that I am?” After they offered a few short answers, he then asked, “But who do you say that I am?” Many people have told you who they think Jesus is, but who do you say Jesus is? Our personal answer to that question makes all the difference in the way we approach both Jesus and life.

 

Peter spoke up and said, “You are the Christ.”  To a good number of us, his answer comes as no surprise because we attached an aura of divinity to that title. We call Jesus the Christ because he is the son of God.  But for Peter, Christ was simply a title announcing that Jesus was God’s anointed one; it did not connote any notion of divinity. To the contrary, the disciples still viewed Jesus in earthly terms, seeing him as one who would liberate them from the oppression of the Romans.  Peter anticipated a royal kingdom, much like John and James did when they asked if they could sit one on either side of Jesus when he comes into his glory.

 

Jesus didn’t disagree with Peter but he warned the disciples not to tell anyone about him. He knew that they still didn’t understand his role as the Christ, so he proceeded to tell them that contrary to their expectations, he had to suffer greatly.  What he said scandalized Peter who then tried to rebuke him. Peter meant well, never expecting to be rebuked himself in very strong terms. “Get behind me, Satan! You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do.”  Jesus had a mission to complete and he wasn’t about to let anyone, including Peter, talk him out of it.

 

Jesus could say the same about most of us since few of us think as God does, which is why we fail to fully appreciate what Jesus is asking us to do as his disciples.  

Instead of telling Peter how to think as God does, Jesus hits him and the crowd broadside with the command, “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me.”  That doesn’t sound too enticing, does it? Taking up the cross is some thing few of us care to do, but if we are to experience our own resurrection, Jesus is telling us we must first share in his passion and death. He isn’t offering us an easy way out, but keep in mind, he isn’t asking us to do anything that he hasn’t done first.

 

In a nutshell, picking up our cross means having to make some difficult decisions at times, moral decisions that can be counter-cultural and unpopular amongst our peers. To deny ourselves means that never again will I choose what I want over what God wants of me.  In effect, if we truly follow Jesus as his disciples, listening to him, we will be saved.  There is a name for that kind of surrender; it’s called faith. 

 

Whether we follow Christ or not by picking up our cross, life is difficult but life won’t be as difficult if we accept his advice and be one with him.  That is the paradox of this gospel. In our suffering, we can and will find life and true freedom.  If we were to think like God does, we could see that the cross is the path to happiness.

 

The greatest act of faith that we can make is to say to God, “I don’t know the reason for the cross you sent me, but I will pick it up and carry it anyway, simply because your son, Jesus, said that I should.” Almost anyone can carry a cross if he or she can see the reason for it. But it takes people of great love and faith to carry a cross when they can’t see the reason for it.

 

A rabbi offers this insight for doing just that. He had to make a long journey so he set out with his donkey, an oil lamp and his bible.  The first night, he tried to stay at an inn, but there was no room. He didn’t get angry. Instead, he said, “God knows best, he always has his reasons.” And so he camped under the stars. He tried to light his lamp but the wind kept blowing out the flame. After many attempts, he finally said, “God knows best, he always has his reasons.”

 

Around midnight, he woke up with a start and discovered that a thief had stolen his donkey. Again he said, “God knows best, he always has his reasons.” 

 

The next day the rabbi discovered that during the night a band of barbarians had attacked the village, killing everyone. Had he stayed at the inn, he would have been killed. He also learned that the barbarians came to the stream looking for travelers. He realized that had they seen him reading his bible by his lamp or heard his donkey bray, they would have killed him.  That night when the rabbi knelt to say his prayers, he said, “Lord, you know best; you always have your reasons.”

 

That story teaches us an important lesson; we should look upon everything, even our moments of suffering, with eyes of faith.  As the rabbi said, “God knows best; he always has his reasons.” Taking up the cross may not make sense or be appealing to us at times but God has his reasons.

 

Because they are an integral part of life, we cannot avoid suffering and sorrow, but we can turn them into something that will draw us closer to God instead of driving us farther away. Just as a coin has two sides, we will discover that the reverse side of every cross contains a blessing far greater than the cross itself.  That is the good news Jesus wishes to share with us today.  Have we the faith to believe him?

Unbeknown to my parents, I had a stroke at birth that caused my hearing loss. For the first few years my mother knew something was amiss but not until I was three did she realize I had trouble hearing. With the help of a speech therapist, I learned to talk when I was four years old. The joke in the family was it took me so long to learn to talk but I still have yet to learn when to be quiet.

 

A few years later my parents took me to Lourdes, hoping for a miracle. What they hoped for didn’t happen but at least God gave me enough hearing to survive in the hearing world. As some of you know, without my hearing aids, I do live in a world of silence, so I can well imagine how the deaf man felt when he heard sound for the first time.

 

This miracle stands apart from most of the miracle incidents in the gospels. Taking the deaf man aside and putting his finger in the man’s ears, Jesus groaned and said to him, “Ephphatha!” which in his native language meant, “Be opened!” And as we heard, the man’s ears were opened. Now he could hear and speak plainly.

 

Those who witnessed what happened were astonished.  Even though Jesus told them to keep quiet, they wouldn’t. “He has done all things well. He makes the deaf hear and the mute speak.”  Who could blame them for proclaiming this miracle to anyone that would listen? Would you keep quiet if I no longer needed my hearing aids?

 

They undoubtedly heard Jesus but were they listening? That reminds me of an incident between Dennis the Menace and Margaret that appeared years ago. In the first panel, Dennis is walking with his dog, Ruff, and Margaret who is jabbering away. Her prattle continues but clearly Dennis has her tuned out. In the next scene, Margaret is pelting Dennis with her doll saying, “Dennis Mitchell! You aren’t listening to me!”  The final panel has Dennis replying, “Margaret, I’m listening to you; it’s just that I’m not paying any attention!”

 

Actually, I would take issue with Dennis on that. There is a difference between hearing and listening. The latter requires attentiveness while the former does not. Dennis was hearing Margaret, but he certainly wasn’t listening to her. 

 

How readily are we listening to Jesus? You heard the gospel but are you open to his message? While I don’t think anyone here is literally deaf, a fair number of Christians act as though they are spiritually deaf. They hear what Jesus has to say all right but for any number of reasons they aren’t really listening to him.

 

Too bad we won’t listen and heed his message. Imagine what a better place the world would be today if all peoples listened to the good news of salvation. For one thing, sin and evil wouldn’t prevail and we wouldn’t be in the midst of a war five years after the tragedy of nine-eleven.

 

Two years before that fateful day, the world mourned the passing of two women who made a difference in the lives of many because they did listen to God. They heard the cry of the poor and responded generously with open arms and voices. Have we forgotten the example of Mother Teresa and Princess Diana? They reached out to the downtrodden, the sick, the homeless, and the dying. They touched the hearts of many by what they did and by what they said, daring others to follow their example.

 

What opened their hearts was the suffering they witnessed. The world is a better place today because these two women listened and dared to make a difference. I cannot help but wonder if the tragedy of nine eleven would have been averted if the seeds of envy that drove some extremists to act as they did would have withered had more Christians followed James’ advice and shown no partiality toward others as Mother Teresa and Princess Diana did.  Alas, we are paying the price for not being listening well to what Jesus has to say.

 

How easily we hear only what we want to hear and no more: just enough to confirm our prejudices and preconceptions before we stop listening altogether. Selective hearing seems to be a common trait, as many parents and their children well know. Yet such limited hearing does not make this a better world for anyone in the end.

 

How closed minded are we to God and to others? If there is any line to be remembered from today’s readings, I would say it is, “Be opened!”  We become isolated from one another when we refuse to listen and speak out, as God would have us do. After all, aren’t most conflicts –between individuals, groups and nations—caused by people not open to what could bring about peace? Thinking back to some of my recent confrontations, I blame myself for not being open- minded to what the other person was trying to say.

 

In the midst of the noise that surrounds us, Jesus wants us to be open to God’s presence when we are overwhelmed by disappointment, jealousy, rejection, envy and anger to see the possibilities we have before us and to realize the joy of bringing God’s peace and forgiveness into our lives and the lives of others. But for that to happen, we must be willing to truly listen to what Jesus keeps trying to say to us about building up the kingdom of God and to see that we too can be healers.  So, my friends, “Be open!” As Mother Teresa said, “We are all pencils in the hand of God.”

A Christian and a Jew were talking about the ways of their respective religions. “You people,” said the Jew, “have been taking things from us for thousands of years. For instnace, the Ten Commandments.” “Well, yes,” admitted the other, “We took them from you all right, but you can’t say that we’ve kept them!”

 

At least that Christian was being honest. We don’t always keep them, which is why we begin the Mass asking for God’s forgiveness. In today’s readings, we are told to carefully observe God’s decrees. We shouldn’t add to them, as the Pharisees did, nor subtract from them as some of us tend to, so that we don’t lose sight of what really matters to God.

 

And what really matters? James gives us a concise answer when he wrote, “Religion that is pure and undefiled before God and the Father is this: to care for orphans and widows in their affliction and to keep oneself unstained by the world.” In biblical times, orphans and widows depended on others for their survival. Our response then and now to the less fortunate says much about our relationship with God.

 

What does James mean by keeping ourselves unstained from the world? For starters, we must be honest about the reality of sin in our lives, a subject few of us care to dwell on. Let’s not kid ourselves. Sin is the very reason why our religion even exists. Jesus came into the world to save us from our sins, dying on the cross so that we could be forgiven. CS Lewis once said, “Christianity tells people to repent and promises them forgiveness. It therefore has nothing (as far as I know) to say to people who do not know they have done anything to repent of and who do not feel that they need any forgiveness.”

 

In today’s gospel, Jesus confronts one such group. They criticized others for things like not washing hands before eating and improper care of utensils, yet the Pharisees had a way of ignoring their own faults. Jesus provides them with an  examination of conscience as he points out that what defiles a person comes from within, evil thoughts, the lack of chastity, theft, murder, adultery, greed, malice, deceit, licentiousness, envy, blasphemy, arrogance, and folly.

 

In short, Jesus calls a spade a spade. We don’t care to hear what he has to say about sin, so we often fudge a bit. For example, cohabitating has become an acceptable lifestyle. Our laws say that abortions are legal, but neither choice is morally right and like any sin, anything morally wrong has the potential to really harm us and others.

 

In giving the Ten Commandments to the Israelites, Moses urged them to “observe them carefully, for thus will you give evidence of your wisdom and intelligence to the nations.”

 

To paraphrase James, we should humbly welcome what God has given us and act accordingly.  He is warning us that if all we do is listen, we are deceiving ourselves.  God’s commandments are really meant to serve as blueprints for living life wisely and well, not burden us.  When done, that brings us freedom. Not freedom in the sense of doing what we please at the expense of others, but freedom from what can and will harm us emotionally, spiritually, or physically.

 

God is urging us to set the example for the world around us instead of allowing the world to stain us with its profane examples. Like the Pharisees, some of us can easily lose sight of what matters and be more concerned, for example, with how our rituals are performed than the tragedy of abortion, domestic violence, world hunger and homelessness.  Our catechism points out, “…man has in his heart a law inscribed by God. His dignity lies in observing this law, and by it he will be judged.”  That is why I hear Jesus challenging us to be honest with ourselves. 

 

Years ago, I ran across a poem entitled, The Devil’s Beatitudes, which warns that all that is needed for evil to succeed is for good people to do nothing.

 

“Blessed are those who are too tired, busy, or disorganized to meet with fellow Christians on Sundays each week. Their hearts are not in it.

“Blessed are those who enjoy noticing the mannerisms of clergy and choir, their hearts are not in it.

“Blessed are those Christians who wait to be asked and expect to be thanked, I can use them.

“Blessed are the touchy. With a bit of luck they may even stop going to church. They are my missionaries.

“Blessed are those who claim to love God at the same time as hating other people, they are mine forever.

“Blessed are the trouble makers. They shall be called my children.

“Blessed are those who have no time to pray. They are easy prey for me.

“Blessed are you when you read this and think it is about other people and not about yourself. I’ve got you!” 

 

A pebble underfoot can quickly spoil the pleasure of walking around in sandals, painfully distracting one’s attention from the beauty of a beach scene. The same can be said for a word in the midst of a paragraph. In this instance, the word is “subordinate,” mentioned several times in Paul’s letter to the Ephesians. In the older translation of the New American Bible, the word had been “submissive,” which turned many people off. Angered by such chauvinist language, many listeners missed the point that Paul was making regarding commitment.  Along with Joshua and Jesus, he is challenging us to examine the depth of our commitments.

 

The husband, Paul points out, is to commit himself just as totally to his wife as Christ committed himself to the Church. You and I know how far Jesus went for the Church and for us; ideally, every husband should do the same for his wife.  Spouses cannot form a true marriage if they are jealously guarding their own rights. Each person has to sacrifice something, give up some of their personal prerogatives.

 

Years ago I read about a husband who did just that. His name was Bill Havens, a member of the US canoe team for the 1924 Olympics. As the time for the games neared, Bill found himself faced with a choice. His wife was expecting their first child. Should he go to Paris for the games or stay home? She insisted that he go; after all, he had been working hard at this for years. After much soul searching, Bill decided to stay home so that he could be at her bedside when their first child was born. Being committed to his wife, Bill knew he had to put his life long dream aside.

 

The temptation we often face is keep our commitments half heartedly instead of totally. By our actions or lack of actions, we declare what we are really committed to. Joshua knew what his commitment was. He also knew that many who had followed him through the exodus to the Promised Land were not so certain. They were now attracted to the new gods of their neighbors. “If it does not please you to serve the Lord, decide today whom you will serve. As for me and my household, we will serve the Lord.”

 

Joshua could ask the same question of us. Whom do we serve? Our presence suggests that we desire to serve the Lord but how deep is that commitment? Is your presence here at Mass your top priority on any given weekend? Or is your decision to be here or not easily influenced by other things? Are there other gods such as sports that keep you from honoring your commitment to live the Catholic faith?

 

As I look around each time I preside at Mass, I am mindful of those who are absent for any number of reasons even though they haven’t moved off island. How committed they are to the Eucharist? Could it be that they don’t really understand or value this special gift? Perhaps they are absent for the same reason that prompted many of the disciples to leave. “This sort of talk is hard to endure. How can anyone take it seriously?”

 

Many of the teachings of our Catholic faith are difficult to accept yet they are, I believe, ultimately intended to bring us to a deeper awareness of God. The more committed we are to learning about our faith, the more readily we can see the wisdom of what is asked of us.

 

Like the disciples who left his ranks then, many Catholics do so today, living their faith selectively, ignoring what isn’t so convenient. We tend to call that approach to our faith, cafeteria Catholicism. I wonder at what point Jesus may want to ask them, “Do you also want to leave?”

 

I can easily imagine what Bill Havens, the would-be Olympian, would have said. By the way, there is a sequel to his story that illustrates the impact our commitments can have on those around us.

 

In 1952, twenty eight years after passing up his chance to participate in the Olympics, Bill received a cablegram from Helsinki, Finland. It read, “Dad, I won. I’m bringing home the gold medal you lost waiting for me to be born.” Yes, Bill’s generous commitment to his wife inspired his son, Frank, to pursue his father’s dream. This is a point I suspect many parents don’t think about often enough.

 

How readily spouses live out their commitments to one another and to God by living their faith is carefully observed by their children, who in turn will often use their example as a model for honoring their own commitments in life. When we commit ourselves to God or to another person, that decision impacts us and the world around us.

 

It was clear that Jesus was not the kind of messiah that many people were expecting or chose to accept. As the gospel relates, some of his disciples returned home disappointed. These are hard sayings, who can accept them? Can we? Do we?

 

The bottom line is this; Jesus is asking us to make a decision which defines our relationship to him and to each other.  When faced with the question of remaining committed to our faith, hopefully we can put ourselves in Peter’s sandals who asked, “Master, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and are convinced that you are the holy one of God.”

The last time I preached on these readings, I was on a cruise ship bound for Alaska. As you can well imagine, most of the passengers on board were looking forward to a week of superb foods and fine wines. Thus, the opening passage from Wisdom provided a very fitting backdrop for our trip, “Come, eat of my food and drink the wine I have mixed!”

 

Even Paul and Jesus speak of feasting. Continuing on what he said last week in which he calls on Christians to live in a manner worthy of those who have been called by Christ, Paul now makes the point that to live a good life in the name of Christ, we must try to understand the will of the Lord.

 

Trying to understand the will of Jesus Christ doesn’t come easy, certainly not, when it comes to what he is telling us in today’s gospel.  Jesus startled a fair number of people when he said, “I am the living bread that came down from heaven; whoever eats this bread will live forever.”  Notice that he didn’t make this claim casually. Nor was he speaking of symbols or metaphors. In fact, unlike any other point made elsewhere in the four gospels, Jesus was so emphatic that he reiterates his message in this brief passage four more times. In no uncertain terms, he is telling anyone who is listening, “If you eat my flesh, you will live forever.”

 

Many who first heard Jesus were understandably offended. “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” Had they been there, today’s generation would likely have said, “How gross!”  How his words have been understood and dealt with over time has generated numerous debates, prompting in part the Protestant reformation by those who chose to refrain from such worship because they could not comprehend how one could literally eat the flesh of the Son of Man.

 

Even within our own Church, a fair number of Catholics have a difficult time literally accepting what Jesus is saying here. The claim is made that up to 2/3 of surveyed Catholics don’t believe that Jesus is really present in the Eucharist. Perhaps that is why so many don’t see the beauty of this gift we have before us. Unlike with most non Catholics, this isn’t a matter of conscious dissent on their part. It is a profound ignorance of what the Eucharist really is; a sad outcome of the generic approach to religious education used in the past.

 

Have that many Catholics lost sight of the most central truth of our faith? Namely, that Jesus Christ literally gives himself to us in this sacrament? Notice that Jesus isn’t content to just send a message about himself whenever we celebrate the Mass. He didn’t tell us that the bread and wine would merely represent him. He actually gives himself to us in the Eucharist.  Can you believe that? Do you believe that?

 

We call this belief in the Eucharist the real presence. We don’t take communion simply to remind us of Jesus. Rather, we take communion to become one with Jesus. As the saying goes, we become what we eat. By eating his flesh, we enter into an intimate union with Jesus Christ.

 

Let me tell you about one of my heroes and his belief in the Real Presence of Jesus, Archbishop Oscar Romero of San Salvador. When he became bishop in 1977, he was a quiet and unassuming priest. As archbishop, he fought against government sponsored injustice in his country.  When soldiers occupied a church once, he risked his life to retrieve and protect the Blessed Sacrament. On March 24, 1980, while celebrating Mass, he was shot at the moment he elevated the host during the consecration. Like Jesus, he became a martyr for the truth and a prophet of justice.  This man truly appreciated this priceless gift from Jesus Christ.

 

For us to better appreciate what Jesus is offering us here, let’s step back a bit and ponder just what a sacrament is. Many people think of the sacraments as mere human inventions, or some form of Christianized magic, or just empty works. To correct these misunderstandings, the Catechism provides a concise two part definition of a sacrament. First, they are words and actions accessible to our human nature. They aren’t abstract notions or empty words. They are signs—water, oil, wine and bread— that are concrete and material in nature that we can feel and touch. Second, “By the action of Christ and the Holy Spirit, they make present efficaciously the grace that they signify.”

 

Because the sacraments are the work of Jesus and not simply human creations, they enable us to partake in his divine nature. If you are wondering how material things could impart spiritual power, keep in mind that God became man in the person of Jesus and did so to become one with us.

 

Although he is by virtue of his divine nature limitless in what he can do, Jesus made a choice to accept the limitations of a human body. He did this so that he could be present to us in time and space as a man living in first century Palestine. At the end of his life he underwent a process which enabled him to break through the barriers of time and space. For this reason, he is able to offer us his body even though we live twenty centuries and thousands of miles apart from him. If we so desire, Jesus gives us the opportunity to connect with him on the deepest possible level.  For those who believe, he is the living bread come down from heaven. If we eat his flesh and drink his blood, we will have his life within us, the only life which endures forever.

 

Now, if that isn’t food for thought, I don’t know what is. As for me, I believe every word Jesus said. Do you?