The Twenty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle B)

GETTING ALL A’S BUT FLUNKING LIFE

Deuteronomy 4:1-2, 6-8; James 1:17-18, 2B-22, 27; Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23 

Isn’t it funny how one thing can be considered bad news for some, but good news for others? So, for those of you under the age of eighteen, I have some bad news for you – School starts this week. For those of you who are parents, I have some good news for you – School starts this week! And for those of you who are teachers, I’ll let you decide whether or not that’s bad news or good news. As you know, I loved teaching. But I do have to admit to you that when it came to the month of August, I literally refused to look at a calendar, because I didn’t want to be reminded of how few days were left before early mornings, lesson plans, faculty meetings and grade books. Oh the power of the grade book! I recently heard a story about a little boy who wasn’t getting good marks. One day, he snuck behind his teacher at her desk and caught a glimpse of the failing test grade she was entering for him. The boy tapped the teacher on the shoulder and said, "I don't want to scare you, but my daddy says if I don't get better grades, somebody is going to get a spanking!"

In today’s Gospel, Jesus, the Divine Teacher, gives the Pharisees a glimpse at his grade book. But before we look at the grades the Pharisees received, we need to go back and consider what lesson it was that the Pharisees were being graded on. For that we need to go back a few thousand years in the history of Israel to consider an unprecedented moment in human history. 

We go back to when God chose a ragtag band of wandering Semites to be a Chosen People, his Chosen People. God entered into a special relationship of love with these people. God entered into a Covenant with Israel, saying, “I will be your God and you will be my people.” And to preserve that unique relationship of love, God gave the Chosen People the Commandments – rules for living that would preserve that relationship. The author of Deuteronomy captures the excitement when God, the Creator of the Universe, broke into human history. He calls the people of Israel a “great nation,” “a wise and discerning people" (Deut 4:6), for what other nation has a god so close to it as Israel is to Yahweh? What nation has statutes and decrees as just as the law God gave the people of Israel?

But the Law, the Commandents, were not given as an end to themselves. They were always intended as a means to an end. They were intended as a means for preserving this incredible love relationship which God had established.

Now come forward to the time of Jesus and the Pharisees we meet in today’s gospel.

In one of his books, the Catholic novelist Walter Percy has a character who says about another person, “He got all A’s, but flunked life!” That is essentially what Jesus, the Divine Teacher, is saying to the Pharisees, “You got all A’s at keeping the Commandments, as you understand them, but you flunked life.” The Pharisees, and many others at the time of Jesus, were focused on a complex set of rules for following the Law, but in some important ways had neglected the heart of the Covenant. They had lost their focus on what was the essence of the Covenant – a loving relationship with God and with all creation. Someone said the Pharisees had moved religion from the sanctuary into the kitchen – and that is what their questioning reveals. They have the Lord of Life, the Lord of the Dance, sitting in front of them, and they wanted to talk about the rules for washing hands! A poet says about the Pharisees, “they were so busy scrubbing ‘useless pots the whole day long’ that they completely ‘lost the dance and song.’”

But there is something unsettling about this scene with the Pharisees. It is easy for us to nod and agree that, Yes, the Pharisees got it wrong. They deserved bad grades. But what nags at my conscience is that we know the lesson here is not limited to the Pharisees. The Pharisees were, after all, at the time of Jesus, respected religious people. Like us, they were not thought of as bad people.

And so, we feel compelled to ask ourselves, “What grades would the Divine Teacher give us?” Do we in some way get all A’s but flunk life? Do we in our families, in our friendships, at work, in our church, focus narrowly on a strict observance of a multitude of rules, but fail to seek out and celebrate truly loving relationships? Have we become so scrupulous in the blind observance of the letter of the Law that we neglect the spirit of love on which and for which the law was written. It’s so easy to rattle off a list of commandments by rote. It’s so easy to follow rules to the “T” and expect other to do likewise. It’s so easy to point fingers, cast judgements and disdainfully shake our heads at those that don’t. It’s so much more challenging, not to look the other way, but rather to see beyond and treat those we deem as rule-breakers, miscreants, and sinners with love, compassion, tolerance and mercy. Do we at times move our religious focus from the sanctuary to the kitchen? The earliest Christians called the mass an “agape” – a love feast. Is it still a celebration of God’s love for us, our love for God, my love for you, your love for me, or has it degenerated to mere ritual and routine? Are we consumed with who is worthy and welcome to gather around our table or whose hands are considered unclean because of the sins we perceive they’re guilty of? If so, then our religious experience may be more pharisaic than Christian. We may be more preoccupied with scrubbing “useless pots all day long” and completely miss “the dance and the song.”

But there is one very reassuring thought in all of this: we are being taught daily by a most unusual teacher. Not the Teacher of the Year or even the century. But the Teacher of All Time and Eternity. Like the many good teachers so many of us have known, this teacher will never give up on us. This teacher is eternally patient, eternally loving. This teacher doesn’t want us to fail. He’s the teacher who tirelessly and relentlessly goes over the lesson again and again until we get it right. He’s the teacher who always makes himself available for extra help. He’s the teacher who enters our failing marks in his grade book, not with red ink, but with red pencil that can be erased and changed if we ultimately learn the lessons he has taught. Our Divine Teacher, Jesus Christ, has shown us convincingly, through his death on the cross, that he will make the ultimate sacrifice so that we too may share in that loving relationship with God, promised to our ancestors in faith so long ago. We rejoice now in that knowledge and celebrate it in our Eucharist.

Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle B)

WHAT KIND OF MESSIAH ARE YOU LOOKING FOR? 

Exodus 16: 2-4, 12-15; Ephesians 4: 17, 20-24; John 6: 24-35

Did you ever feel misunderstood? Did you ever feel that people don’t see the real you? Ever feel that people just don’t get you? Are you ever upset because you feel used, that people are only interested in what they can get out of you? If so, you’re in good company. I think most of us have felt that way at one time in our life or other. Some of us might feel that this is the story of our lives, a persistent pattern, an ongoing reality. If so, you’re in even better company than you realized, because I think that’s the Jesus we meet in today’s gospel.

Today’s Gospel is Part II of a five part series from John’s Gospel called the “Bread of Life Discourse.” Mark’s Gospel, which is the shortest of the four Gospels, is interrupted and supplemented with this important episode and inserted into the Cycle B readings. In it, the miracle of the multiplication of the loaves and fish, which we heard last Sunday, takes just nine verses to relate and some forty-two verses to explain. The feeding of the 5,000 is a gentle but central introduction of a succession of Gospel readings that take us through one of the most difficult, confusing, counter-intuitive chapters in all the gospels. John 6 is a rhetorical back and forth between Jesus and the crowd and the disciples about his identity, God's mission, and our response. In the coming weeks, Jesus will tell the people they must eat his flesh, and, when they object and ask him to clarify or soften his hyperbolic message, they ultimately reject him. 

Last week, if you recall, Jesus took five barley loaves and two fish and multiplied them to feed a crowd of five thousand hungry people. To them, this miracle is the greatest thing since sliced bread and it convinces them that Jesus must be the Messiah. Their attempt to carry Jesus off and crown him king, results in him literally running away because he will not have it. Why? After all, isn’t Jesus the Messiah? Didn’t he want the people to recognize this and believe in him. Yes, but on his terms and not theirs. For them, the Messiah would be a new King David, who would not only free them from Roman oppression and bring down their enemies, but lead Israel into an era of prosperity. He would be one who would take care of, not only their political needs, but their physical needs as well. But that wasn’t the type of Messiah that Jesus came to be. The kingdom Jesus came to rule over wasn’t the Kingdom of Israel, but the Kingdom of God. He came, not so much to nourish them physically, but spiritually.

It’s there that today’s Gospel picks up. As is often the case in John, Jesus turns the physical into the spiritual. They want bread—like the bread Moses provided in the wilderness, but Jesus had another kind of bread in mind. He told the people that they searched and found him, not so much because they witnessed a miracle, but because they had their bellies filled. They had temporal needs met, which at that moment are important to them. And Jesus uses this as an opportunity not to rebuke them, but to challenge them to go deeper. 

More than likely, many of us find ourselves in a similar situation. Maybe we’re here at Mass because we’re dealing with some major issue in our lives. Someone is sick, someone has died, someone is unemployed. And we’re fearful or angry or afraid. And it’s a good thing to come and bring that to Jesus. But Jesus tells the people and us that it wasn’t Moses who gave the people bread, it was God. Now God would offer them bread, just a different kind of bread—the bread of life. That promise leads to another request: show us this bread. Jesus answers: “I am the bread of life.” Just as food is essential for our physical safety and well-being, he is essential for our eternal safety and well-being. 

The thing is, the people did get it at least part right. They recognize at least part of Jesus' identity. He is a king. He admits his kingship when he stands before Pilate. Jesus is meant to rule. So the people have it partly correct. They don’t, however, see the whole picture. Jesus is meant to rule, but not for just a few years - and he doesn't belong to only one group. That's why Jesus withdraws from them - not that they are wrong, but they have too narrow a view of who he is.

So it is down to our day. A New York Times' columnist named Ross Douthat has written a book entitled, "Bad Religion - How We Became a Nation of Heretics." He argues that we Americans, by and large, still want Jesus to have some place in our lives, but that, like the people of his day, we want to limit him. That's the definition of heresy - not some new idea about Jesus, but a limited idea. "Heretics" emphasize one aspect of Jesus in a way that leaves everything else out.

Some, for instance, want a Jesus who simply affirms them as they are. It is “feel good religion,” one that justifies our actions and a Jesus that accepts us as we are, no matter what we do, rather than challenging us to become something more and better. In "Bad Religion" Ross Douthat also analyzes the "prosperity gospel" of Joel Osteen, the recycled Gnosticism of the DaVinci Code and the dangers of blending religion and nationalism - making a kind of "American Jesus." 

The question before us this Sunday is: Who is Jesus? Is he merely king or guru or business partner? Is he some small part of my life - or is he as necessary to me as food and drink. Jesus says that he is the “Bread of Life, the “Cup of Eternal Salvation?” He is the food that gives eternal life. He is the food that encourages and comforts the guilty sinner. He is the Wonder Bread that enables us to carry the heavy loads that life can put on our shoulders. He is the food that will strengthen us to face anything that comes our way. With Jesus, the Bread of Life, there is nothing more that we need. This is bread that God gives to us as a gift. This is the bread that is not only good for the here and now but also for eternity. This bread will change you. This bread will strengthen you for the journey ahead. This bread gives eternal life. This bread gives hope in the face of trouble, confusion and death.

Today Jesus reveals something about who he is, his true self. He comforts us in our troubles, but he doesn't say he will affirm us no matter what we do. He helps us have a better life, but he doesn't guarantee financial success. He teaches the purpose of life, but he doesn't give secret knowledge to make us superior to others. He is meant to rule our lives and our world, but he does not allow us to use him for personal political ends. What he tells us is this: "I am the Bread of Life." If we come to him, we will never hunger and thirst for anything else. He is the Bread of Life. That is Jesus' identity. Take him or leave him.