THE 24TH SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME – A – SEPTEMBER 17, 2017

A reading from the Book of Sirach 27:30-28:7
A reading from Saint Paul’s Letter to the Romans 14:7-9
A reading from the holy Gospel according to Matthew 18:21-35

 

Dear Reader,

Before you read this reflection, I would encourage you take in this Sunday’s readings, sit under them, if you will, and consider how they impact you.  Emotions may well surface, even feelings of resentment.  This will be especially true if you are burdened with unresolved issues of hurt, broken relationships, or betrayal.  Take ten or fifteen minutes to process your emotions rather than simply denying them.

Now, may I ask how you felt as you pondered.  What emotions surged as you heard Sirach denounce the vengeful spirit, and heard him say that wrath and anger are hateful things?  Did you resent the Gospel’s proclamation that we need to forgive even huge debts if we are to expect forgiveness from the Lord for our debts?

As I write this, our nation is staggering in the aftermath of the violence in Charlottesville.  Once again White Supremacists, Neo-Nazis, and the KKK demonstrated, under the umbrella of retaining a statue of Robert E. Lee, for values that others saw as being against the core Constitutional belief that all people are created equal.  An angry young man drove a car into the counter-demonstrators and killed a young woman and injured several others.  The young man is alleged to hold Hitler as a hero and what he did in the death camps as right thing.  Now put forgiveness into the mix.

Certainly justice needs to be brought to bear against those who perpetrated the terror.  The call to forgive is not a call to ignore evil.  But if we hear the readings, we must recognize that there is no wiggle room for us to escape the implications put down before us by Sirach and Jesus.  Those who believe in this God and who claim to be disciples of the Lord Jesus must be about mercy and forgiveness.  To be otherwise is to court disaster, the disaster that is God’s final displeasure, the horror of final separation from Christ.

We celebrate our faith in worship as we assemble with those who believe as we do and with us are baptized into the same Christ.  But we live that faith in the world.  Our decisions and actions there are to be affected by faith.  This Sunday’s first reading and the Gospel speak to us about forgiveness.  It is quite possible to hear the readings and nod and not realize the implications for us in our daily lives.

To move in the direction that will awaken in us the sense of challenge that might prompt us to ask, “ Who can do this?” we have to think of someone who has offended us.  You have to think of someone who has offended you.  That comes way before you start thinking about seeking your own forgiveness.  The readings seem to say that you will not appreciate the latter until you have forgiven someone who has offended you.  The bigger the offense you forgive, the more you will be grateful for the forgiveness that comes to you.

It must be 20 years ago that I read the story in People magazine.  Strange where you can find a challenge to grow in your faith response and to be reminded that conversion is a life-long process.  A man was convicted and sent to prison for murdering a young woman.  The woman’s parents were committed Christians who tried to live their faith each day.  One Sunday they heard a sermon about forgiveness.  Their pastor told them that Jesus commands his disciples to forgive those who sin against them.  After church that Sunday, they went home.  As they sat at their kitchen table, the wife asked her husband if he thought what they had heard that morning had implications for them.  He suggested that they pray about it.

Not long afterwards, they concluded that if they were going to continue being Christians they had to forgive the man who had killed their daughter.  Their first step was to journey to the prison and meet with the killer.  Over a period of time they came to know the man and his story.  They told him that it was a matter of faith for them to forgive him for what he had done.  The day came when they could tell him that they had indeed forgiven him and come to love him, even as he had, by that time, told them how sorry he was for what he had done and that he loved them, too.

When the time came for the man to be paroled, the parents invited him to come and live with them until he felt secure enough to live on his own and go forward with his life.  That is what happened.  The article in the magazine told of the man’s successes, his marriage, his children, his work, and his on-going relationship with the couple that have become like parents to him.

There is another important aspect to the challenge in these readings that is not in evidence in the story.  Forgive your neighbor’s injustice; then when you pray, your own sins will be forgiven.  Could anyone nourish anger against another and expect healing from the Lord?  It takes a degree of courage, but for these readings to have their full impact, we have to dare to be vulnerable to them.  By that I mean we have to face the reality of sin in our won lives.  What sin have I committed?  Of what are you guilty that has offended your neighbor?  Have you ever done anything that had major negative consequences for another?  Was your conscience pricked to the point that you wondered if you could ever be forgiven?  There is no need for specifics here.  Each one has to look into the secrets and sorrows that burden the heart.

Peter’s question to Jesus about how many times he had to forgive his neighbor, even seven times, brought him a stunning answer.  Peter thought forgiving seven times would be magnanimous on his part.  Who could expect more?  He heard Jesus tell him that when Peter had forgiven seven times, he had only just begun on the path of forgiving.  There is no end to the demands to forgive because God never stops forgiving.

The parable Jesus told begins with the Lord’s forgiving in the tale of the king whose servant owed him a huge amount and who had no way to clear the debt.  Putting him in debtor’s prison was an option.  But when the servant pled for mercy and patience, the king forgave the debt.  If we put ourselves in the position of the servant, that is, if we allow ourselves to know our own sinfulness and to ask forgiveness, it is a comfort to know that it is always forthcoming.  Apparently there is nothing that God loves to do more than to forgive.  God is not like the person who might say, “I’ll forgive, but I will never forget what you have done.”  Nor is he like the other one who would say, “I’ll forgive, but God help you the next time it happens.”  God’s forgiveness wipes the slate clean.  That’s what God’s love compels God to do.

The sad part of the parable comes when the servant of whom much was forgiven throttles and puts into prison a fellow servant who owed him a very small amount, a servant who also had no means at hand to clear the debt.  The forgiven servant had lost all perspective as will we if, when we brood over someone who has offended us, we forget that we have been forgiven and refuse to extend that forgiveness to another.  But have you ever noticed how our own sins never have the magnitude of those of others that offend us.  Our own sins are much easier to understand than those that are committed by another.

There is an implied caution in the Gospel parable.  A case can be made that unless we forgive we will not be forgiven.  Look where the first servant winds up – handed over to the torturers until he should pay back the whole debt.  Many years ago, there was a popular bumper sticker that read: Christians aren’t different; they’re just forgiven.  We are challenged by these readings to always remember that we are forgiven and therefore we must love much.

We come together to celebrate Eucharist.  We come as a forgiven people who extend forgiveness.  Sometimes that forgiveness is extended even to someone who has not sought it, someone who is not even aware of the pain s/he has caused you and doesn’t care.  Jesus said from the cross, Father, forgive them.  They do not know what they are doing.  Forgive and you will know the freedom that forgiving brings.

As Christians, we ought to be known as a people who rejoice in forgiveness.  That does not mean that we take sin and its significance lightly; but we refuse to dwell there.  We would rather be prompted to deeds of love because we have been forgiven.  There was a time when the Third Form of the Rite of Reconciliation could be celebrated.  We have individual confession and absolution.  We have group preparation followed by individual confession and absolution.  The Third Form has communal penance and absolution.  The people of God come together mindful of their sinfulness, avow their sorrow for their sins, and experience absolution as a community of faith.  The use of that form has been greatly restricted and can be used only in times of great emergency, as in a time of disaster.

Any time I was privileged to be part of such a celebration the emotional impact was incredible.  I never saw anyone take the matter lightly.  Tears frequently washed down the faces of the penitents.  Unfortunately some thought that made confession and absolution too easy.  Perhaps.  But I think I witnessed many hearts being changed by the abundance of God’s love experienced in those celebrations.

Do we need to be convinced again that God rejoice in forgiving?  When we believe that we then can be Eucharistic People.  Remember, the word Eucharist means Thanksgiving.  And Alleluia will be our song.

Sincerely,

Didymus

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TWENTY-THIRD SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME – C – September 10, 2017

A reading from the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel 33:7-9
A reading from St. Paul’s Letter to the Romans 13:8-10
A reading from the holy Gospel according to Matthew 18:15-20

Dear Reader,

There are two ways of approaching the Liturgy.  Some come as individuals, focused on self, and expecting a Jesus and me experience.  That is fine for as far as it goes.  But others come, understanding they are individuals who are part of a community, and that community called to be church.  Whichever is your conviction will determine how you hear the proclamation of the Word and how you celebrate Eucharist.  My hope is that you think of Sunday worship not as an either or, but as a both-and encounter directed by the Spirit.

We sit beneath the Word.  The proclamation challenges and confronts the individual heart.  It challenges and confronts the Assembly, the body that is the church.  This Sunday the Prophet Ezekiel preaches because God commands it.  There are dire consequences if he does not.  The call is always to conversion, be it the call to the House of Israel or to the wicked one, as we hear in today’s first reading.  Israel in exile and captivity needs to be renewed in fidelity to God’s Law and must be weaned from the pagan practices that have weakened them and resulted in Israel’s downfall and Jerusalem’s destruction.

The conversion will happen one person at a time.  God holds the Prophet responsible for the proclamation and the hearer for the response to the challenge to return to God’s ways or not.

Conversion is a lifelong process both for the individual and for the church.  When the faithful gather at the Table of the Word it is to listen, to be challenged, and to be transformed by the proclamation.  Ask yourself: What effect does the Spirit prompt in my heart as I hear the Word?  What effect does the Spirit prompt in the community of which I am a part?  I might be used to standing behind defenses, masked and clad in armor that deflects the message and shields my heart lest the Word penetrate.

Most of us gather regularly with the same community of individuals, all coming from the same neighborhood and class of society and with our accepted ways of acting.  We have causes that we support in common.

We can be insular in the comfort of our pew.  Have you ever been unnerved when, upon your arrival, someone with whom you are unfamiliar is in your place?  Granted you were a few minutes later than when you usually arrive.  It can take until after the preparation of the gifts to relax, take a couple of deep breaths, swallow three times and let go of the resentment.

Some like the older hymns that the choir sings and appreciate that the readings are proclaimed well and the sermon is comforting.  A friend told me she shared such observations with a pew mate.  She was surprised by the response.  The friend asked if that was what was supposed to happen during the Liturgy of the Word?  She said she had heard the experience might be more confrontational and spur one on to continuing conversion.  My friend said she gasped, recognized the truth,  and was embarrassed.

The readings this week give me pause.  It is one thing to think of other people who could benefit from the lesson.  What unsettles me is the question that pierces through a chink in my armor and enters my consciousness: Could Ezekiel be speaking to me?  If the Prophet were speaking to me, what response would be expected?  A fortiori, could the prophet be speaking to this parish community?  If that were true, how should the community respond?  What would I and we have to die to in order to rise to the life that Jesus would have us live?

At first there was something in what I heard that appealed to the judgmental in me.  These readings would seem to call for that ability.  I will have to know who the wicked are before I can warn them for the Lord.  Knowing their wickedness and confronting it, as difficult as that might be, will be better than my silence warranting my being responsible for their receiving God’s wrath.

I like the Gospel’s approach even better.  If I recognize that someone sinned against me, at least the process of confrontation could begin between just the two of us.  That’s what Jesus said.  If the conversation did not bring about reform, then I could garner support for my cause from a few of my friends.  If that didn’t work, I would have to put the matter before the whole parish.  There would be some consolation if the offender failed to listen to the whole parish because then the sinner could be shunned.  There would be satisfaction in that, in knowing that I was right and the other was wrong.  Treat him as you would a Gentile or a tax collector, Jesus said.

No sooner was I satisfied with my interpretation of the message than I began to feel uneasy.  Was that the Spirit moving in me?  To shun means to avoid deliberately and habitually.  That is what the community did to Hester Prynne in The Scarlet Letter.  After all, there are some faith communities that endorse shunning.  Something gnaws at me.  Why do I think that the church should not do that?  It is one thing for an individual to decide that s/he wants to leave the community, but excommunication is quite another matter.

To be honest, I winced at the stories about certain political figures during the last campaign who were being denied Eucharist for stands they took on certain issues, freedom of choice regarding abortion.  But other politicians whose stands seemed to be in opposition to the church’s social Gospel and our consequent responsibility to care for the poor and the refugees suffered no such denial.  That struck me as odd.  Besides, I am convinced that it is not the minister’s right to make that determination.  That decision is the prerogative of the one presenting him/herself in the Communion Procession.

Treat him as you would a Gentile or a tax collector.  I thought about the example set by Jesus’ own table fellowship practice.  One of the accusations made against him in the case for his crucifixion was: This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.  Among those sinners were tax collectors.  The judgers knew that Jesus shared his table with prostitutes, tax collectors, and other people of questionable repute.  He was known to converse with lepers and Gentiles.  How can I reconcile Jesus’ attitude with shunning?  Would Jesus statement about Gentiles and tax collectors warrant my shunning one deemed by me or the community with me to be a sinner?  Then I remembered that Jesus’ own first attitude toward Gentiles had to change.  His mission and message, once thought to be only for the lost sheep of the house of Israel expanded to include Gentiles when the Canaanite woman reminded him that even the dogs eat from the crumbs that fall from the master’s table.  And I shouldn’t forget that Matthew was a tax collector.

So what impact should these readings have on me?  How should my attitude and behavior be affected?  Certainly the desired response is not to be blind or indifferent to evils being perpetrated.  The Church’s social Gospel, the universal call for justice and peace, attests to that.  So does the Church’s proclamation supporting primacy of place for the poor, a fundamental option for the poor, attest.

In the face of social evils it is not enough for me to shrug my shoulders, convinced, as I am that I would never do such things, and conclude that such evils will always go on.  Do I really agree with some of those televangelists who say if the poor would just work harder they wouldn’t be poor any longer, thus absolving the wealthy of responsibility for them?  Then there is the judgment that poverty is a sign of God’s disfavor and is a punishment for the poor’s sins – theirs or their parents’.

This is where my on-going conversion comes into play.  The judgment scene at the end of Matthew’s Gospel ought to root out any indifference in me, that is unless I won’t mind being banished with the goats that failed to recognize Jesus and did not respond to his needs in the poor, the hungry, the homeless and the naked.  Ah, but that is for a discussion of another Sunday’s Liturgy of the Word.

My call is to live the Gospel that for Paul is summed up in this injunction: Owe nothing to anyone except to love one another.  The commandments tell me all the things I should not do to my sisters and brothers.  Such deeds ought not be part of my life.  But not doing is not enough.  What I must do is love.  That means to love in imitation of the way Jesus loved.  That means to forgive, too.  I must love even those I deem unlovable, and those who hate or have betrayed me.  It will be amazing what I will find out in the process.

What I recognize as my call as an individual translates into a call for the community with which I gather.  After all, we will move together from around the Table of the Word where we received the call to conversion, to the Table of the Eucharist where the Spirit will accomplish the transformation of the Bread and Wine and of us.  Love demands the proclamation: All are welcome here.  Those who approach to celebrate Eucharist and to receive worthily must accept forgiveness in their own lives in order that, having eaten and drunk, they may be sent to proclaim that forgiveness and hope to all they meet.

Love does no evil to the neighbor; hence, love is the fulfillment of the law.  That is what Paul said.  That is what we must believe and put into practice.

Sincerely,

Didymus

TWENTY-SECOND SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME – A – September 03, 2017

A reading from the Book of the Prophet Jeremiah 20:7-9
A reading from St. Paul’s Letter to the Romans 12:1-2
A reading from the holy Gospel according to Matthew 16:21-27

Dear Reader,

How you hear the words will determine the shade of meaning.  You duped me, O Lord, and I let myself be duped.  The dictionary says that a dupe is one who is easily deceived or cheated; in other words, a fool.  So, to be duped is to be made a fool of.  Was Jeremiah raging with fist raised to the heavens when he spoke these words?  Was he broken hearted, with tears streaming down his face as he whispered them?  Was there a wry smile, accompanied by a wagging head that left Jeremiah telling God that God had really pulled a clever one on the lad when God tapped him to be a prophet?  It is all in how you hear the words as they are proclaimed.  Regardless of how you hear them, the truth remains that for Jeremiah the die has been cast.  Jeremiah is in love with God and God’s people come what may.  And he can’t be quiet about it.

Jeremiah’s feelings may mirror Peter’s in the Gospel.  Think of last Sunday’s reading.  Peter proclaimed for the other disciples that they were convinced that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the living God.  Jesus is the Messiah of God, the anointed one God has sent into the world.  Think of the praise that Jesus lavished on Peter for his insight: Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah…. And so I say to you, you are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it.  How do you reconcile such generous praise with the dressing down that the Rock receives a few short verses later?  Get behind me, Satan!  You are an obstacle to me!

What has happened?  It seems Peter has a lot to learn and some assumptions of which he must be disabused.  For Peter the word Messiah had rich meaning that included power and prestige in the here and now.  Peter assumed that Jesus as Messiah would set up a powerful kingdom, a rich kingdom, and would drive away the oppressors who made life for the Jews miserable.  Peter could hardly wait, because when that happened and the rewards started pouring in, who would be there in a position of favor to bask in the luxury?  You guess it.  Peter.

But those dreams and expectations are dashed in today’s Gospel as Jesus begins to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer greatly…and be killed and on the third day be raised.  What about that might and that glory?  What about sharing the throne with a position of power for Peter?  After all, Jesus had just said that Peter was foundational to the kingdom that Jesus was bringing.

There is a word in the text whose force we might miss.  Peter took Jesus aside and began to rebuke him.  To rebuke is to give a complete dressing down to.  The word is harsh and severe in meaning.  Maybe a fist was shaken in Jesus’ face.  The words must have hissed from Peter’s lips, with panic just beneath the surface.  The panic is born of peter’s fear that he has been duped by Jesus whose first words to him had never ceased ringing in Peter’s ears: Come after me and I will make you fishers of humankind.  That would be a power position, wouldn’t it?

When Jesus tells Peter to get behind me, Satan, he is not banishing Peter, excommunicating him as it were.  Rather, Jesus calls Peter a tempter, the way Satan argued with God in the Book of Job.  The order to get behind me is telling Peter to walk in Jesus’ footsteps and learn from what he observes over Jesus’ shoulder.  From that vantage point, he will learn that Jesus is not a warrior Messiah.  Jesus is a servant Messiah.  This Messiah will associate with all the wrong people – the poor, the blind, the lame, the lepers – all those whose condition gives evidence of their being sinners and out of favor with God.  That was the commonly accepted assumption of the times.  Worse than that, this Messiah sees as an essential part of his vocation suffering and death. Peter will be the witness as the worst that people can inflict on people is inflicted on Jesus.  Rejection.  Crucifixion.  Death.  Nothing worse can be imagined.  And how could Peter comprehend what being raised on the third day meant?

What tone of voice do you imagine that Jesus used in the final discourse of this Gospel reading?  We probably would like to hear the gentle Jesus reassuring Peter and the other disciples.  But could it be that Jesus used a stern voice with a hint of anger in it to shock the audience into hearing the new basic condition for discipleship?  Those who wish to come after me must deny themselves, take up their crosses, and follow me.  In other words, if one seeks discipleship for the good things that will follow, the prosperity, power, and position that will follow, that one is following the wrong Christ.  The trappings of glory do not belong here.  It is a servant church whose foundation is Rock (Peter).

You duped me, O Lord, and I let myself be duped!  Jeremiah’s words are now on Peter’s lips.  What was true for Jeremiah is also true for Peter.  Peter may have been duped, but there is no turning back.  Life without Jesus would be no life at all.  He may still have a lot to learn, even the basic meaning of discipleship, but the truth emerging is that for Peter to live is Christ and to die is gain, as Paul will say when facing his own death.  Or, as Paul declares in today’s second reading, I urge you brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice.

People can come to Christ from various motives and begin to walk with him on The Way.  But that walking takes time.  The walking is formational.  Inevitably that walking necessitates the denial of self and the giving up of presuppositions.  That walking must be in Jesus’ footsteps resulting in lessons learned from watching over his shoulder and then doing what Jesus does.  Those who aspire to discipleship must accept vulnerability.  Jesus’ values are not the world’s values.  Again, hear Paul: Do not conform yourselves to this age, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that you may discern what is the will of God.

With Jesus it is not about power, but service – serving the poorest of the poor, and giving them primacy of place.  See Pope Francis kneeling and washing the feet of the young jail inmates.  Discipleship entails gathering at the Table to give thanks to God – the word Eucharist means thanksgiving.  Proclaim that all are welcome to gather.  Around the Table dying and rising happen as the Assembly breaks the Bread and shares the Cup and is transformed into the Body of Christ in order to be sent to be broken and distributed until all the poor have been fed.  Being vulnerable in service might entail dying, too.  It did for Jesus.  It will for all those who follow him.

Don’t miss the promise.  For the Son of Man will come with his angels in his Father’s glory, and then he will repay all according to their conduct.  I think of St. Ignatius of Antioch who pled with his people not to try to dissuade him from the martyrdom, the lion’s jaws that awaited him.  He urged them to let him be ground like what in the lions’ jaws, an allusion to the flour from which the Eucharistic bread would be kneaded.  For Ignatius, the death of martyrdom was not defeat but victory in Christ.  So must it be for all who follow Christ.  We may not be cast to the lions, but we may be humiliated in our service.  Sometimes I wonder if that isn’t how it is supposed to be.  Sometimes I wonder if that isn’t the lesson to be learned and taken to heart by all those who let themselves be duped by the message.

Sincerely,

Didymus