The Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle A)

BLESSED and HAPPY

Zephaniah 2:3, 3: 23-13; 1 Corinthians 1: 26-31; Matthew 5: 1-12a 

I think it’s a safe assumption on my part that we all love Jesus. We wouldn’t be here this morning if we didn’t. But as I was reflecting on today’s Gospel this past week, an unsettling question came to mind: If we lived in first-century Israel, would we like him? Let me explain the reason for this question. Most of us tend to prefer people who are predictable. We like the person we know we can count on for a well-timed joke. We like the person who will show up when they commit to something. We tend to prefer people we can read; either they tell us outright what they’re thinking or their facial expressions do. We like it when people say what they mean and mean what they say. We tend to prefer people who are logical and draw understandable conclusions. Basically, we like people we can easily peg.

Jesus was not one of those people. He wasn’t predictable. He wasn’t easy to read. He wasn’t always logical, at least not by the norms of his culture. He was enigmatic. Everything about him was a puzzle. His birth to a virgin, his hometown, and most certainly his teachings were all confounding and defied conventional wisdom.

Matthew’s anthology of Jesus’ teachings, collectively known as the Sermon on the Mount, begins with the Beatitudes, a litany pronouncing blessings upon what are apparently the lowliest of people. Jesus climbs a mountain and below him, in the crowd, where the world sees weakness, he sees strength. Where the world sees poverty, he sees wealth. Where the world sees deprivation, he sees power. Here Jesus shows himself to be not only enigmatic but also counter-cultural. He was then. And he is now. Although Jesus presents the Beatitudes as blessings, we often perceive what he proposes as curses. Let’s listen to him again about happiness, about the way to heaven, about the way to holiness:

• Whereas the world says you have to be rich to be happy, Jesus says “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for they will inherit the kingdom of heaven.”
• Whereas the world says, you’re happy when you don’t have a concern in the world, Jesus says “Blessed are those” who are so concerned with others that “they mourn” over the others’ miseries, “for they will be comforted” by him eternally.
• Whereas the world says, “You have to be strong and powerful to be happy,” Jesus says “Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.”
• Whereas the world says, “To be happy, you’ve got to be a sex god,’” that “Happy are those who indulge themselves with pleasure.” Jesus says “Happy are the pure of heart for they shall see God.”
• Whereas the world says, “You’re happy when you accept yourself as you are,” Jesus says, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for holiness and grace, for they will be filled.”
• Whereas the world says, “You’re happy when you don’t start a fight, but you finish it.” Jesus says “Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy” and “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.”
• Whereas the world says, “You’re happy when you don’t make waves, you go with the flow, and everyone embraces you as nice,” Jesus says, “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake” and “blessed are you when people revile you, persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account,” “for your reward will be great in heaven.”

So what was the message to the disciples, and what is the message for all of us here today? Jesus is telling us that the very values that we hold so dear, prosperity, security, happiness, and everything we strive so hard to achieve for ourselves and our children are practically worthless when it comes to considering the values of the Kingdom of God. Jesus lays it on the line. He says to us, “It comes down to this: Do we trust the world to bring you happiness or do you trust God? And if it’s the world, how’s that going for you?”

Jesus proposes a different way to happiness – the way of the Beatitudes. It’s a way where we replace greed with simplicity, indifference with compassion, self-promotion with humility, ego and satisfaction with the status quo with a craving for holiness, the need always to be right with tolerance, the lust for pleasure with purity, the quest for power with justice, and our craving for acceptance and affirmation at all cost with fortitude. 

Why does Jesus say that the poor in spirit, those that mourn, the meek, those that hunger and thirst for righteousness, the forgiving, the peacemakers and the persecuted are happy and blessed? Because they have allowed God to be close. There are no obstacles between them and God. On him, they are totally dependent. His words are their joy. His values are their treasure. His promises are their hope. His example is their guide. 

We’re told that St. Francis of Assisi got completely undressed in the middle of his town square. He gave all his possessions back to his father and then he was ready to begin. We need to do the same. We need to be naked, to strip ourselves of all that comes between us and our God. For it is only when we rid ourselves of that which is an illusion and is fleeting that we can possess that which is real and eternal. 

In the end, Jesus doesn’t merely speak the Beatitudes. He lives the Beatitudes. He is the Beatitudes. Looking at him you will see what it means to be poor in spirit, gentle and merciful, to mourn, to care for what is right, to be pure in heart, to make peace, to be persecuted. This is why he has the right to say, “Come, follow me!” He doesn’t say, “Do what I say”. He says, “Come, follow me!”

We’re called, too, not just to hear the Beatitudes, not just to live the Beatitudes, but to be the Beatitudes. The Beatitudes describe both the face of Christ and the face of a Christian, the face of one striving, with God’s help, to become a saint. St. John Paul II called it the Magna Carta of Christianity and said that the way of the Beatitudes is the way to happiness, holiness and heaven. 

Let’s pray for that. Through this Eucharist, may Christ Jesus our Lord help us to have that hunger, have that thirst, have that desire for holiness, for living the Beatitudes, so that one day we will indeed be satisfied FOREVER. 

Hmmm. Maybe had I lived in first-century Israel, I would have liked Jesus after all.

The Solemnity of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the Mother of God

PONDERED IN HER HEART

Numbers 6: 22-27; Galatians 4: 4-7; Luke 2: 16-21 

Did you ever see the movie, “The Natural?” It’s one of my favorites. The 1984 film stars Robert Redford as Roy Hobbs, a baseball prodigy, a “natural,” whose career is sidetracked when he’s shot by a woman whose motivation remains mysterious. Most of the story concerns itself with his attempts to, not only return to baseball later in life, but to become the best player the game has ever known when he plays for the fictional New York Knights with his legendary bat, “Wonderboy.” When I saw it when it was first released (at what used to be called Cinema 10), I remember remaining in my seat as they ran the credits, thinking to myself: “What a great movie! It had everything you could want from a sports story: greed, sex, betrayal, and a whole lotta baseball. But what the heck did it mean?” I realized there was a deeper meaning to the story that I just wasn’t getting, and I sat there long after the other movie-goers left the theater trying to figure it out. But for a long time, its meaning remained a mystery to me. When it was released on home video, I bought a copy and watched it several more times, still groping to figure out what the movie was really trying to say. Finally I got it! And I decided it was a perfect movie to show to my junior morality class at Bergen Catholic. After I did, I explained to them that Roy Hobbs was a symbol of Everyman and that the movie was a metaphor for man’s struggle with good and evil. I pointed out how the director used light and dark to help get this across, that the movie’s title didn’t just speak about Roy’s natural abilities, but the natural state of man, and that the dramatic conclusion of the movie was meant to convey the ultimate triumph of grace against sin, good vs evil. When I finished, I asked my class for their reaction. They stared back at me in silence. Were they as moved as I at the movie? Had I just given the lesson of my life and they sat there speechless in rapt awe? Finally, one of my students raised his hand. He was the smartest student in the class and I was anxious to hear what his insight might be. I said, “So what do you think, Chris?” Chris responded, “Deac . . . It’s a movie about baseball!” I looked around to the other members of the class, and they nodded their head in affirmation. – It was just a movie about baseball. Well, thank goodness, the bell rang signaling the end of class or my students would have seen a grown man cry. They didn’t get it. They didn’t see what I saw. This was far more than just a movie about baseball.

My struggle to find the meaning behind the movie “The Natural” is what Mary did with all the experiences of her life. In today’s Gospel, we hear that Mary reflected in her heart the story of all the shepherds had seen and heard. The thing is, she did more than that. Sometimes our English translation of Scripture does a poor job at getting across the precise meaning of the original Greek. And today’s passage is one such example. More on the mark than reflected, the meaning of the original Greek text is better translated pondered. To ponder is “to consider, to weigh, to hold in balance.” It means to think about something carefully in your head - to weigh it in your mind. It implies a serious process of mental activity – a careful consideration of all the factors involved. But for Mary, it doesn’t stop there. She ponders it in her heart. And so, there’s an important emotional and spiritual overlay to this process. To ponder in our heart is to try to feel it out as well as to think it out: to discern what its meaning is, and to allow it to change our life. I don't think that Mary pondered the great mysteries of faith.  I think she pondered in her heart the events of her life and tried to discover the presence of God in them,  We need to do the same.

We get the sense in Luke’s Gospel that this sort of internalization was the pattern of Mary’s life. Three times within the first two chapters of Luke’s Gospel we’re told that Mary does this. In addition to what we heard this morning, we’re told that she pondered the angel Gabriel’s words to her, “Hail Mary, full of grace! The Lord is with you” and what such a greeting might mean. We’re also told that twelve years later, after searching for Jesus for three days and finding him in the Temple sitting amidst the teachers, listing to them and asking them questions, Mary and Joseph returned home to Nazareth where she “treasured all these things in her heart.” Luke should know. Catholic tradition tells us that after he was converted by St. Paul, he traveled to Israel to “investigate everything accurately anew,” and that this quest brought him to Mary herself and that he based the Infancy Narrative of his Gospel on that interview. And I’m sure it’s not a stretch of the imagination that there were thirty-three years worth of words and memories that Mary took to heart, pondered, discerned, and sought to discovered the hand of God in, even the death of her Son on the cross. 

I’m wondering this weekend, this New Year’s weekend, what memories of 2016 are you and I are keeping, storing, holding in our hearts? Was 2016 a good year or a hard year? a happy year or a sad year? A healthy year or a year of sickness? Was it a year of gain or a year of loss? A year of pain or a year of peace? Did the year seem to fly by or did it creep at a snail’s pace?

My physical heart has only four chambers but my soul’s heart has many more than four. With what memories has last year filled the chambers of my heart? Am I keeping some hurtful memories alongside some happier ones? Am I holding on to some resentments and grudges or have I filled some chambers with forgiveness, with peace-finally-made?

Is there a chamber in my heart now empty because I’ve lost someone or a relationship ended? Have I locked up that empty place - or left it open, waiting for it to be filled with consolation and healing, with fresh affection?

In the past year did my heart expand to accommodate everything that came my way, peace and pain alike? Did my heart enlarge to welcome God’s grace in my joys and his gentle touch upon my grief?

In 2016 did I turn to the Jesus living in my heart: to lean on his strength in my weakness, to depend on his counsel in my doubt, to seek his wisdom in my confusion, to reach for his companionship in my loneliness?

Mary would come, eventually, to keep in her heart not only joyful recollections of Jesus’ birth but also the painful memories of his suffering and death. And so it is with us, too. Our hearts are the storehouses of all that has shaped us to be the persons we have become, and our hearts are the Lord’s dwelling place where he wants to forgive our sins, heal our wounds, calm our fears and give us the peace that comes only from his heart, from his hand.

And so, on this Solemnity of Mary, the Mother of God, as we’re presented with the example our Blessed Mother, let’s not make this New Year’s Weekend just an experience of Auld Lang Syne. Let’s not just reflect on the events of the past year, Let’s PONDER them . . . ponder them in our heart.  Let’s connect the dots, see their deeper meanings, and realize the presence of God in it all. For sure, the year ahead will find its own share of blessings and sorrows filling our hearts. But let’s pray that we come to the end of 2017 through His grace, in His peace, and held in His strong arms. Happy New Year.