Twenty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle C)

Good News – Bad News

Isaiah 66:18-21; Hebrews 12:5-7; 11-13; Luke 13:22-30 

As I was preparing for my homily, I recalled a story I once heard about a priest who was greeting his parishioners one evening after the 5:00 mass. He noticed a man approaching him whom he didn't recognize. As the man drew closer, the priest noticed the man’s slow gait, his eyes cast to the ground . . . his shoulders slumped as if he carried the world upon them. The priest, sensing that the man was troubled, asked if there was a problem and if there was any way he could be of assistance. The man’s eyes, brimming with tears, made contact with those of the priest. “Well Father,” the man said, “I have some good news and some bad news. Let me share with you the bad news first. I’ve just come from the doctor and he informed me that I only have an hour to live.” As you might imagine, the priest put his arm around the man to console him and expressed his sorrow for his fate. “Oh I’m so sorry” said the priest. “What horrible news! But you mentioned that you also had some good news?” “Yes,” the man said. “After sitting through your homily tonight, that hour seemed like an ETERNITY!” . . . Hopefully you won’t have the same reaction after I finish my homily this morning.

“Good news” . . . “Bad news.” That’s seems to be the dichotomy we’re presented with as we contrast our first reading and our Gospel. In the first reading, Isaiah presents us with an epic scene. People once scattered in exile are being brought back together from all corners of the world. People from every nation; foreigners and immigrants. And it is God who is bringing them together and they are given a sign of His glory. Jerusalem once devastated; once rendered to ruin and ashes is restored and rebuilt. What was once thought impossible is accomplished by God. And they who were witnesses to what God had done bring the good news of what they had seen; they bring God’s fame and glory to others. And the new converts all come processing into Jerusalem to God’s holy mountain to worship in the great Temple—the slaves and the free; the warriors and the weak; the wealthy and the slaves, “on horses and in chariots, in carts, upon mules and dromedaries.” “The new Jerusalem will include people from all nations.” God’s covenant; God’s promise to love, protect, and save is not just for a few but for all.

As we come processing today in our own ways to God’s holy place, we, too, come from all walks of life – from diverse ethnicities, backgrounds, and educations. Many of us come from all corners of our country and some from outside our country. As we gather to worship, we bring all those things that make us one—our one faith and our love for the Lord and the Eucharist.

We also bring those things which make us different—our opposing views on such matters as birth control, divorce and remarriage, and homosexuality; our conflicting ideologies and even our differences in beliefs. And we bring our personal conflicts—“disagreements among family members, troubled marriages, challenges in our jobs, unhappiness and personal battles with depression, despair and self-destructive habits. Even our children carry with them fears of their own, moving beyond fears of the dark and of monsters under the bed,” to fears of bullying and not measuring-up, of parents who argue and homes that are filled with tension. Yet we continue to come to this holy place, to the new Jerusalem, to offer worship to God, who has extended His salvation to all of us.

But the tone of our readings significantly takes a downward plunge when we hear the Gospel. Once

again, we’re taken back by the bad mood that Jesus has seemed to be over the past few weeks.

“Lord, will only a few people be saved?” Why ask such a question? Why? Was his question one straight from Trivial Pursuit, one that is just something that would be interesting to know. Perhaps it was meant as a subtle criticism of Jesus, “Lord, exactly how many do you really think are going to take serious your message and expectations?” Maybe he thought that heaven was “small” with a few insiders and lots of outsiders, and he didn’t want to be left on the outside looking in. Or perhaps, like all of us, he was worried about the strife and the conflict, and he wanted to make sure that he was on the right track; that he was doing the right things. Possibly, he wanted a checklist of things to do to get to heaven—“Do these things; all of these things and don’t leave any out, and you’ll get to heaven.”

We don’t know what his motivation was. But what we do know is that he didn’t get the answer that he was looking for. If he was expecting a precise answer—a tenth of you, 50% of you—he had to be disappointed with Jesus’ answer. As sincere as he might have been, and whatever his motives were, Jesus sounds downright stern, and his answer is almost in the form of a rebuke. Jesus makes it personal and tells him that salvation requires effort—strenuous, intensive, and maybe even painful effort. That it will be like squeezing through a narrow door and the door won’t always remain open. And that there is urgency and we should never get overconfident, because he may be surprised who gets in and who doesn’t.

And for those who claim a special relationship with Jesus, those who ate and drank with him? Well, Jesus had only one thing to say to them and it’s an admonishment: “I do not know where you are from.”

“Lord, will only a few people be saved?” It’s a question to which we are all seeking an answer. The answer we hope to hear from Jesus is: “No, not just a few of you; but all of you. You Catholics who go to Mass every weekend and receive the sacraments. You who strive to live good lives. You decent people, who do your best; you who get involved, serve others, and share what you can afford. You!” But it’s not the answer we receive . . . is it? Salvation is not as simple as having membership in the Catholic Church. We don’t work our way to or earn our entrance through the door to heaven by some kind of spiritual workout routine—human capability and effort are just not enough.

“Lord, will only a few people be saved?” It’s so hard for us to understand this mystery of salvation, a salvation that is not limited by law, ritual, or our own expectations on who will be saved and who won’t.

We all seek assurance of our place in the next world. And we all want to be the insiders, but Jesus seems to be cautioning us about how misguided our expectations can be. All roads do not lead to heaven—only one road, one path, through one narrow gate. And that gate is him. If this sounds like a dire warning that Jesus is issuing, it is. We can’t be complacent and think that our eternities are secure. We can’t be smug and think that we’re living the lives of disciples that guarantee us an “in” position. It’s not enough that we listen to his Word proclaimed and receive his body and blood without being changed. And like those in Isaiah’s vision who were chosen to bring the message of what they had seen to others, we too are chosen to witness to what we have heard and received to others—those in our families, our friends and others in this parish who were once here with us on Sundays and are no longer. To bring them the good news and bring them back.

“Lord, will only a few people be saved?” Perhaps Jesus’ response to the disciple in today’s Gospel was really meant to say, “You know what, that’s none of your business and it’s not even the right question. The real question you should be concerned with is, “Lord, will I be saved?” And my response to that is, “What are you doing this day to make that happen?”

Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle C)

Setting the World on Fire

Jeremiah 38:4-6, 8-10; Hebrews 12:1-4; Luke 12:49-53 

The Revised Standard Version, or RSV, is recognized by biblical scholars as the most accurate, the most precise, English translation of the Bible from the original Hebrew and Greek. In 1982, Reader's Digest published an edition of the RSV that was billed as a “condensed edition” of the text. It was designed for the sporadic bible reader or for one who might be intimidated by its length. The typical edition of the RSV averages at 1096 pages; the Reader’s Digest edition, 799 – a difference of 297 pages. That’s a heck of a lot of editing! In fact, in the Reader’s Digest version, 55% of the Old Testament and 25% of the New Testament were cut. To be honest, I’ve never seen it, but I think it’s a safe bet that today’s Gospel is probably one of the passages that has been edited out. “I have come to set the earth on fire and how I wish it were already blazing! . . . Do you think I have come to establish peace on earth? No, I tell you, but rather division.” A Gospel very difficult to hear. And from my perspective, one that is very difficult to preach.

So, strengthened by the confidence that Fr. Marc has in me to explain the deepest mysteries of our faith and the greatest perplexities of the Gospel, let’s look at this morning’s difficult passage.

And let’s begin by setting our minds at ease. Jesus was NOT an arsonist. He had no scorched earth policy. He did not want to destroy the earth by fire. But he surely did want to “fire us up” with enthusiasm for his Gospel, to “ignite” our zeal for the spread of his Gospel and the salvation of our brothers and sisters in the human community. He wanted to spread a fire of love and concern for the poor in our world. He was something of a firebrand for justice and he surely wanted his followers to be enthusiasts for justice too. He may have also thought of the faith that was his gift to us as something like a bed of embers that required fanning from time to time, fanning that raised the flame of faith to a higher intensity in prayer.

I think that this morning’s Gospel should cause all of us to reflect on the fire-like enthusiasm Jesus had for the spread of the Gospel and to consider where that enthusiasm is in each of our lives and in our world. Indeed, the words of Jesus today challenge us all to think about the degree of intensity of our own personal enthusiasm for the cause of Christianity in our world, for the spread of the word and way of life that Christ brought to our world. He chose to establish a Church for the vehicle of his mission. What is your enthusiasm for the Church today? What is mine? And, I think it’s fair to ask, what is our Church’s enthusiasm for the cause of Christ? This may sound strange, but we have to wonder if maybe we’re getting too comfortable, too detached from the urgent problems of hunger, poverty, and human need that were real concerns to the heart of Christ.

How fired-up are you and the Church today to continue the work Jesus began – preaching the good news to the poor, healing the sick, saving sinners, sanctifying all? Is the fire going out in Catholic education, Catholic health care, Catholic social services? Are there seats on governing boards of Catholic hospitals, schools, colleges, and service agencies waiting to be filled by people with your skills and resources, if only you were sufficiently enthusiastic to want to serve in this capacity? Are volunteer service opportunities failing to attract Catholic hands and hearts because Catholic ears no longer hear Jesus saying, “I have come to set the world on fire?”

Where is that fire today? Where are the Catholics who want to be priests for the parishes, nuns and brothers for the schools, nurses for Catholic hospitals and assisted living communities, trained professionals for the Catholic social service agencies. Has the “American Dream” of getting ahead, and the quest for personal wealth and status displaced Jesus’ dream of the Kingdom of God, where the first is the one who serves?

This theme seems to be a passion of Pope Francis. Listen to these six statements that he has made, at different times and in different circumstances, just in the short five months that he has been our pope:

• “True wealth is the love of God, shared with one’s brothers, that love that comes from God and makes us share among ourselves, and makes us help one another. He who experiences this . . . receives peace of heart.” 
• “In the history of the Church there have been two classes of Christians: Christians of words – those “Lord, Lord, Lord” – and Christians of action, in truth.” 
• “We need to avoid (becoming) a church that is wrapped up in its own world: when a church becomes like this, it grows sick.” 
• “Jesus teaches us another way: Go out. Go out and share your testimony, go out and interact with your brothers, go out and share, go out and ask. Become the Word in body as well as spirit.”
• “We cannot be part-time Christians. We should seek to live our faith at every moment of every day.” 
• “Are we ready to be Christians full-time, showing our commitment by word and deed?” 

Fortunately, we can see that the fire of which Jesus speaks in today’s Gospel is ablaze at St. Therese in people like the twenty-nine teenagers and adults who responded to the need of the children in Dunlow, West Virginia, and sacrificed a week of their summer vacation witnessing to the Gospel by constructing a library for the elementary school there.

We see it in the outreach of our parish to those in need in Roxbury through our support of our monthly food collections that support Roxbury Social Services, in the holiday meals we provide at Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter, as well as our Christmas Giving Tree and Easter Baskets.

It’s seen in the nutritious breakfasts that the children in our sister parish of St. Cecelia in Kenya are able to benefit from because of our financial support.

It’s seen in each and every item placed in our Baskets of Hope that help those in need in Haiti and parishes and Church-sponsored institutions right here in New Jersey.

But, as I’ve told my students hundreds of times, Christianity isn’t just something we do on Sunday morning. Christianity is a way of life. And so Jesus’ words today force us to internalize and take stock on whether our response to the fire which he wants to set upon the earth is an incessant blaze or a flash in the pan.

Beyond being challenging, Jesus’ sharp and startling words shake us out of our easy chairs and force us to reexamine our own personal response to who Jesus is, what Jesus said, and how Jesus lived. His words are difficult. Not so much difficult to understand, but difficult because the demands they make on us are only too clear.

He went on to say, “Do you think I have come to establish peace on earth? No, I tell you, but rather division.” Jesus was in many ways an idealist, but he also was a realist. He was well aware that his ministry would bring discord. If we go back to the beginning, to the second chapter of the Gospel of Luke, we find the wise old man Simeon prophesying to Mary, when she brought the infant Jesus into the Temple, “Behold, this child is destined for the fall and rise of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be contradicted.”

Jesus was and still is a sign of contradiction. He is the Prince of Peace, yet nonetheless, his teachings were, are, and probably always will be a source of division. That shouldn’t scandalize us. Neither should it prevent us from standing up and speaking out for all things Catholic, while dedicating our time, talent, and treasure to the advancement of our Catholic faith and our Catholic institutions. We simply cannot permit the fire to go out!

This is our faith! This is our Church, ignited by the flame of Jesus Christ, the Light of the World!

Fired up?
Or merely lukewarm?