Homilies

Jesus presented us with a parable, at the end of which, he cautions, “You also must be prepared, for at an hour you do not expect, the Son of Man will come.” This prompts me to share the story of a spider who lived in a cornfield. It had built a comfortable nest and had constructed an elaborate web among the cornstalks. The spider became fat and happy dining on all the insects trapped in its web. One day the spider snagged a tiny bug in its web. As the spider was about to feast on its little victim, the bug spoke up: “If you let me go, I will tell you something that will save your life.” The spider stopped and listened. “You had better leave this cornfield. Harvest time is here.” The spider scoffed. “What is this harvest time you talk about? I think it’s something you just made up.” “Oh, its true. The farmer of this field will soon come to collect the corn. All the stalks will be cut off and the corn will be gathered. You will be crushed by a giant machine if you stay here.” The spider sneered, “That’s preposterous. Harvest time and giant machines to cut down the corn? Prove it!” The little bug insisted, “Look at the corn. Look at how it has been planted in neat rows. That proves this field was designed by someone who is very wise.” The spider laughed. “That’s silly. This field has grown up on its own. That’s the way corn grows.” “Oh, no!” the bug argued. “The field was planted by its owner and at harvest time he will come and gather up the corn.” The spider said, “Ridiculous! I have lived here since the corn was a foot high and no one has ever disturbed me. Nothing ever changes in this field. I’ll be here forever.” Just as the spider was about to dine on the little bug, a rumble broke the morning stillness. The rumble grew louder and louder. Soon a thick cloud of dust surrounded the spider. The stunned spider gulped, “Oh, oh.” Might we be saying that when we are about to take our last breath? No matter how fat and happy we are, our cornfield will one day be harvested. The challenge of faith as these readings point out is to understand our cornfield with the wisdom of the little bug who sees beyond its immediate surroundings to realize an order and connection of the various elements of life to the giver of life, namely God. The sad fact, however, is that we live our lives with the complacency of the spider: we live for the moment; we are satisfied with meeting our immediate needs. We fail to see beyond “our own row of corn.” This life God has given us is fragile and fleeting. If we have truly embraced the spirit of the gospel, we are always conscious of the brevity of this life and live our days in joyful anticipation of the life to come. “Gird your loins and light your lamps and be like servants who await their master’s return from a wedding, ready to open immediately when he comes and knocks. Blessed are those servants whom the master finds vigilant on his arrival.” Last week, we heard a brief passage from the Book of Ecclesiastes, the only time that book is ever quoted on any Sunday. Too bad the editors of the lectionary didn’t think to quote from its third chapter. “There is an appointed time for everything, and a time for every affair under the heavens. A time to be born and a time to die.” God knows every moment but because God has given us free will, God can’t decide those moments. Before we were conceived, God knew the moment of our birth and of our death. Unless we take matters into our hands and commit suicide, we would not know the moment of our last breath, but are we ready to encounter God when that moment comes? For some, death comes with a warning, for example, a terminal illness, but for a good number of people, death comes unexpectedly as it did for the victims of recent mass shootings. They woke up that morning never imagining that they would not see the sun set that day. Hopefully they were ready like vigilant servants to greet the Son of Man that day. In the early days of the Church, many believed that Jesus would literally return in their lifetime but as the first disciples began to die, it became apparent that Jesus was speaking of meeting his believers when they died, provided their faith in him as the Son of Man had not waivered. Jesus commends the watchful servants, that is, those who are prepared for his return by prayer and faithfully fulfilling their duties. His return is a moment of joy for he invites them to participate in a great banquet. As the passage from Hebrews points out, faith motivates people to live the way shown by God. Abraham ventured forth not knowing where God was leading him. By faith he sojourned in the Promised Land and he had descendants “as numerous as the stars in the sky.” Likewise, faith and hope point us toward the fullness of life in God’s kingdom. One 90-year-old aunt said to her niece, “If I don’t see you here on earth again, I will see you in heaven.” That is faith and as the years go by, whenever heaven or the God who calls us home to dwell there seem like illusions, may that faith become more solid for you for faith is the assurance of things hoped for, and evidence of things not seen.

It is no secret that we live in a materialistic culture. For some people, the pursuit of wealth and possessions has become their religion. Many scripture passages including those we just heard have wise things to say about money and possessions, advising us that we shouldn’t make them into a god. Since life is fragile, these readings caution that we need to sort out what really matters before it is too late, mindful that our greatest need is God. The marquee outside a church once warned those passing by, “Don’t wait for the hearse to take you to church.” Many who are preoccupied with worldly pursuits find little time for God in their daily lives and will often ignore that advice. Someday a hearse may bring them to church one last time but as the late evangelist Billy Graham once said, “You will never see a hearse pulling a U-Haul trailer.” When a very wealthy man in town died, a local news reporter asked the rich man’s pastor, “How much did he leave?” The pastor replied, “He left it all!”In ancient Egypt, the pharaohs thought they could take it with them. King Tut had quite a hoard buried with him, which I viewed in Cairo years ago. Imagine God saying to you, “You fool, this night your life will be demanded of you; and the things you have prepared, to whom will they belong?” They certainly won’t belong to you once you take your last breath. Greed, one of the seven deadly sins, has always been a temptation for many people, blinding them from what really matters. In the past few decades two of the fastest growing industries in our country have been home security systems and self-storage units. What does that say about our culture? How might Jesus adapt this parable if he told his gospel parable to us today? Greed can take on the form of accumulating anything unnecessary, blinding us from appreciating what really matters in life. Jesus cautions “Take care to guard against all greed, for though one may be rich, one’s life does not consist of possessions.” Because we tend to buy more than we need or can even use, clutter has taken over our lives, duping us into a sense of false security. Growing up as an army brat, I never lived in one place more than three years until I became a pastor. Now that I have been in one place so long, I have become like that rich man. I don’t have barns full of grains but I have other goods as a consequence of being a packrat. If clutter is taking over your life, if your many possessions possess you, you need a touch of “Kondo magic.” Marie Kondo is a Japanese expert in the science of — no kidding — tidying up. She has written four best-selling books, including The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up. Her name has become a verb among her millions of fans around the world: “I Kondo-ed everything” means you have purged your house and home of every non-essential thing cluttering up your life. Marie Kondo’s approach to keeping and disposing of possessions center on three principles: First, she advises that you pick up each item you own and ask yourself if that thing “sparks joy.” It takes time and thoughtfulness, but asking that question of every possession can be liberating. If done correctly, you find yourself living happier with less. Second, Ms. Kondo points out that the hardest things to get rid of are the things that make you feel guilty. An example: that expensive dress you bought five years ago and wore only once because it made you feel dumpy, or the ugly but expensive knickknack given to you by a close relative or friend. Let it go — to some charity or local thrift shop like Good Cheer that can see that it’s put to good use. And, third, Ms. Kondo writes, “If you’re having a hard time getting rid of something, thank the item for the role it has already played in your life.” For example, say, Thank you for giving me joy when I bought you or Thank you for teaching me what doesn’t suit me. Then you’re free to let it go. It may all sound ridiculous, but her charming insane tips can bring great peace of mind. You approach what you own as the means to joy and not joy in themselves; in new ways, you realize how blessed you have been in what you have. Marie Kondo’s quirky approach to de-cluttering, like the parable of the rich man’s barns, challenges us to look at all the “stuff” we possess and to realize the real valuables in our lives. Often something’s true worth has nothing to do with its monetary value or the momentary pleasure it gives us. Its value is in the memories it preserves, in the time it saves us for more important and joyful pursuits, in its enabling us to experience the selfless and affirming love of God in the good we are able to do for family and friends. Jesus calls us to take inventory of our lives and the things that “clutter” them and refocus our attention on the things of God: compassion, love, mercy, forgiveness, and consolation. Certainly we will likely have possessions as long as we live and we will leave them behind as well as the people we know and the wisdom we have accumulated, but notice that Jesus tells us throughout the Gospel of Luke of the dangers of wealth for our eternal life. The proper use of our goods, for ourselves and for others, indicates that we must have the right orientation, namely generosity towards others and toward God. It is only when we are rich toward God that we can say to our souls: “Relax, all is in order.”

St. Benedict, best known as the founder of monasticism, was riding horseback one day from one monastery to the next. He passed a beggar, who snarled, “If I had a horse, I could pray too!” St. Benedict smiled and replied, “Friend, if you can pray the Lord’s Prayer without getting distracted, I will give you this horse.” The beggar jumped right in, “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name…does the saddle come with it?” 

Isn’t that what we often have in mind when we say this awesome prayer? What’s in it for me? Yet there is so much more to this well known prayer than we give credence to.

As we just heard, when Jesus had finished praying, one of his disciples said, “Lord, teach us to pray just as John taught his disciples.” Jesus then teaches them what has become the most widely said prayer by Christians ever since.

The Lord’s Prayer has always been at the very heart of Christian prayer. Notice that Luke’s version of this prayer is more concise than the one we commonly say that is found in Matthew’s gospel, but it maintains much the same reverence for God’s holiness and offers petitions for establishing God’s kingdom, our daily needs, and the forgiveness of our sins, as well as our forgiveness of others and the ability to withstand the trials of evil.

The Catechism of the Catholic Church outlines five different forms of prayer: prayer of blessing and adoration, prayer of petition, prayer of thanksgiving, prayer of praise, and prayer of intercession. When you stop to consider its richness, instead of hurrying through it, as we often do, you can notice all five forms of prayer are included in the Lord’s Prayer. Still, how much thought do you give to what you are saying?

Notice as you say this prayer that you cannot pray the Lord’s Prayer, and ever once say “I.” You cannot pray the Lord’s Prayer and ever once say, “My.” Nor can you pray the Lord’s Prayer, and not pray for another; for when you ask for daily bread, you must include your brother. For others are included in each and every plea: from the beginning to the end, it does not once say “Me.”

That beautiful prayer does contain some troublesome lines. One is, “they will be done.” They are perhaps the most dangerous words we can say. Have you ever given much thought to what that line really means? What if we were to pray, “Thy justice come,” “Thy peace come,” “Thy mercy come,” “Thy politics come,” “Thy economics come”? In fact, we are praying exactly for all of them and more.

We are praying and hoping for God’s kingdom to become a reality: a kingdom that knows neither border nor enemy; a kingdom that exalts humility and compassion over celebrity and wealth; a kingdom that treasures the poor and the sick; a kingdom that is ruled by love of God, where compassion is the measure of all things. In such a kingdom, there would not be refugees fleeing to find a better life for themselves only to then be treated as common criminals. Compassion would compel us to find more humane ways to treat them.

Whenever we say this prayer, we are promising to be conspirators with God in creating his kingdom here and now. So often we envision God’s kingdom as only being in heaven, but his kingdom is to be experienced in our lifetime in this place here and now as well and it can be if we did our part. It’s hard to keep religion personal and private if that is our prayer. We would be justified in skipping this part of the Lord’s Prayer, being very uneasy at that point. Of course, if we ignore that line, then we have only ourselves to blame for the morass our world is in.

The kingdom God envisions doesn’t quite mesh with the kingdom many of us are building. But keep in mind that it’s not our prayer. It’s Jesus’ prayer; the one he taught us to say by heart and to mean what we say. It is Jesus who puts all our loyalties, all our hopes, all our loves on the table, makes us look at them, then makes us pray those dangerous words, “thy kingdom come, they will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”

Thy will be done, not ours, in our homes, in our offices, in our work places, in our classrooms. We pray that God’s will be done in every moment of our lives as it will be done in heaven. When you stop to think about its message, this prayer is not so much asking God to do what we want but reminding ourselves of what God is asking us to do. Are we willing to make God’s will a reality in our lives?

Prayer worthy of God’s attention seeks the grace to be ready and willing to make God’s will a reality through acts of forgiveness, charity, and justice. Forgiveness brings to mind another troublesome line for many. Oftentimes as a penance, I suggest that penitents say the Lord’s Prayer thoughtfully and then ask themselves two questions. We make the plea, “forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us,” yet how often are we willing to practice the art of forgiveness? I invite them to ponder, “Who do I still need to forgive and whose forgiveness do I need for what I have said or done or failed to do?” I then suggest that if any names come to mind to then ask God for the grace to forgive that person or to give that person the grace to forgive them. To quote St Thomas More, “O God, give us the grace to work for the things we pray for.” 

 

Last Thursday our country with much fanfare once again celebrated its independence. As most of us learned in history, the Continental Congress gathered in Philadelphia on July 4, 1776 to sign the Declaration of Independence, a document that eloquently expressed the deepest convictions of a young aspiring nation.

Back in high school, one teacher had my class memorize its opening lines. “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 are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. That to secure these rights, governments are instituted, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed.”

For 243 years, possessing such rights have been the American dream and for most of her residents, that dream has been fulfilled. Working together in good times and in bad, the people of this nation have survived wars, scandals, and depressions, seeing their country grow even stronger.

Unfortunately, the dream of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness was not realized by everyone. Prejudice and bigotry have always colored our nation’s history. When Thomas Jefferson wrote “all men,” he wasn’t being inclusive. The notion that a slave would have any such rights was unthinkable to many colonists back then. Such attitudes eventually precipitated a civil war that nearly destroyed our nation. The Civil War should serve as a sobering reminder that no nation dare take its nationhood for granted no matter how long it has existed.

Consider ancient Rome, the greatest empire in the western world when Jesus sent forth his disciples to preach the Good News. It lasted much longer than 243 years. Despite its wealth and dominance in ancient times, Rome eventually fell, because its citizens lost sight of what really mattered.

In his classic study of ancient Rome, Edward Gibbons gave five reasons why this happened. 1. The significant increase in divorce, which as we know today by our own experience, destroys many homes. 2. An increase in taxes to fund a bigger military than was needed and to build arenas for the sake of entertaining the general public. 3. The craze for pleasure, especially brutal sports. The movie,Gladiators, which came out in 2000, showed how the crowds delighted in witnessing the needless slaughter of men. 4. Increased military spending even though Rome’s real enemy was not foreign. 5. Last but not least, the decline in religion in Roman society and in the home even though by then Rome was a Christian nation. I find Gibbon’s diagnosis haunting for he seems to be describing the American scene today.

Inherent in our pursuit of happiness is a deeply rooted yearning for peace. Jesus senses that need and often spoke of giving us his gift of peace. In the gospel he instructed the disciples to begin their ministry on that note, “Peace to this household. If a peaceful person lives there, your peace will rest on him.” What does it take for us to find this peace?

The simplest answer would be placing God first in our lives. That advice is implicit in our nation’s motto, “In God we trust.” The peace we yearn for cannot be achieved through self-centered pursuits that result in broken homes or shattered lives, uncontrolled addictions that destroy a person’s dignity, or overindulgence of any kind at the expense of caring for those struggling to survive.  When we place God first, we will discover the emptiness of our worldly notions for pursuing happiness and learn that true happiness and God go hand in hand.

Like the 72 in today’s gospel Jesus appoints every disciple of every time and place, and that includes you and me, to go before him to bring peace into the lives of others. Wherever we go and whatever we do, we have the responsibility and the ability to proclaim the presence of Christ in our midst.

We herald God’s kingdom and conquer evil when we make moral and Christian decisions in our homes, at work and in our daily lives. Be a herald of the gospel that says, “Treat one another with fairness and respect as you also wish to be treated.” Would you, for example, care to be treated in the same way that families fleeing the insurrection in Central America are being treated along our borders?

We are heralds of God’s kingdom and conquerors of evil when we strive to treat each one, especially those in the family, with respect and love. It is easy to fall into habit of speaking ill of one another but such negativity destroys relationships and lives instead of bringing about peace.

We have been called to be heralds of God’s kingdom in our nation as well. When we go forth from here, we can continue the work of the seventy-two to be messengers of God’s reign of peace, compassion and reconciliation.

A country’s greatness is seen in the way it treats its poorest members, not just those who are destitute but also those who are totally dependent and vulnerable from the unborn to those afflicted by dementia and other disabling illnesses to those who are incarcerated or homeless. By actively reaching out to the less fortunate who seek as we do to enjoy life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, we bring a new way of life to our land. Only then can we hope that the American dream will never fade.

In the gospel, we witness a perplexing exchange between Jesus and several would-be disciples. Each person gave an excuse for not following Jesus then and there. To one, Jesus replied, “Let the dead bury the dead.” To another he said, “No one who sets a hand to the plow and looks to what was left behind is fit for the kingdom of God.”

Obviously, Jesus doesn’t want us to neglect our families or leave our dead unburied. His strong Jewish formation would have impressed a better sense of values on him. So what gives? Scripture scholars tell us that Jesus’ comments are deliberate exaggerations used to drive home a point. This tool of good rhetoric is known as hyperbole and Jesus was masterful at using them to get his point across, in this case, the urgency of making real the Kingdom of God here and now. We mustn’t delay in making that happen.

To us modern day listeners, such language may still seem confusing but simply put, half-hearted disciples don’t bring about the Kingdom of God. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a Lutheran theologian, noted in his book, The Cost of Discipleship, “When Christ calls a person, he bids him to come and die.” In this book, he demonstrated that following Jesus is costly and discipleship, lived fully, would indeed cost him his life.

Bonhoeffer’s own religious convictions led him to stand up to the tyranny of Nazi Germany. Implicated in a failed plot to assassinate Adolf Hitler, he was sent to a concentration camp in Bavaria. The ultimate cost of discipleship was demanded of him; on April 9, 1945, he was hanged. Dietrich Bonhoeffer died for the Christian beliefs that formed his life; he was a martyr who never counted the cost.

While discipleship might force some people to decide between life or death, few of us will be asked to pay that ultimate price, but we are still expected to live in a certain way. Being Christian calls us to the fullness of discipleship, so like Bonhoeffer, we cannot count the cost.

The readings today demonstrate the cost of discipleship. Elijah left his parents. Potential disciples of Jesus were told that they too would have to leave family responsibilities behind. In a society based on kinship ties, family or tribal responsibilities are most important. Only for grave reason did one set them aside. Thus Luke is conveying the message that commitment to serving God should supersede all other valid commitments in our lives.

Obviously, not every call to follow Jesus requires leaving one’s family. For many people, it is precisely within the family that discipleship best expresses itself. Parents are expected to commit themselves wholeheartedly to their children, and adult children often find themselves in similar situations with their aging parents.  The message being conveyed is that regardless of our call in life, discipleship requires an unselfish commitment to Christ.

As our life journey continues, our commitments and our relationships change. But one thing is certain; our Christian commitment must be total. True disciples must be willing to forego their possessions, make any sacrifice, and persevere in their response to Christ. Bonhoeffer considered anything less than whole-hearted commitment to Christ to be “cheap grace.” Through baptism, God calls us to be disciples, that is, to live lives of holiness. What has been your response?  

Christian commitment is an action of the heart, not the head. We might give of our financial resources, time, and expertise, but if we do so only as an act of the head, then we will have reservations and constantly be counting the cost. However, if our actions are of the heart, then our commitment will be complete and we will experience the fullness of discipleship. If every Christian were willing to actually become fully committed disciples, the impact on society would be staggering.

In his letter, Paul provides us with some direction for living out our discipleship. He urged the early Christians, “…stand firm and do not submit again to the yoke of slavery.” Later he added, “…serve one another through love.” The whole law, he notes, is summed up in one statement, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”Love doesn’t mean never having to say you are sorry. Love means that we stop “biting and devouring one another.” Love means that we make peace in our families, at our workplaces, in our country and in our world. Love means that we live lives that are “guided by the Spirit.” Admittedly, this isn’t always easy but then Jesus never claimed that being a true disciple of his would be.

This week our nation celebrates its freedom. Unfortunately in the minds of many, freedom means doing whatever you want. If everyone did that, the outcome would be chaos, not freedom. Freedom is not giving in to every urge or impulse we experience. Instead, freedom means being free to do whatever you should to resist temptations and build the Kingdom of God.

In today’s gospel, Jesus demands a clear, unambiguous and total commitment from those who want to be his disciples. There can be no excuses like “but first…”  “in a minute,” or “on second thought.” To be fit for the kingdom, we must keep our eyes on Jesus and our ultimate destiny, eternal life. Authentic discipleship calls us to always be involved in the hard work of making the reign of God reality, regardless of the cost to us.