Twenty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time
Sometimes,
in writing a homily, an idea just pops into your head by the inspiration of the
Holy Spirit, and He makes a theme known.
As I read over the readings for today on this past Monday, in
preparation for writing the homily, there were so many things that I could
preach on: from the first reading I saw the theme of the wisdom of God as
opposed to the wisdom of the world; from the second reading I saw the theme of
the fraternity of Christianity which excludes no one, not even, from St. Paul’s
times, slaves who were considered property; from the Gospel I saw them theme of
the cost of discipleship and whether one is strong enough to follow Jesus. So I was wondering in which direction
the Holy Spirit wanted me to go.
Then, on
Wednesday, as I was driving in my car, I was listening to my iTunes, and I just
felt drawn to listen to songs from an album called “How Great Thou Art: Gospel
Favorites Live from the Grand Ole Opry.”
And I was driving a song came on which focused my attention for this
week. And that song was “The Old
Rugged Cross.” To me it became
clear that the Holy Spirit wanted me to preach about the cross.
We don’t
often think of the cross as beautiful.
It was the worst punishment that the Romans had devised to torture
prisoners and foreigners. It was
so harsh that it was only applied to those who were not citizens of Rome. And yet, Jesus says today, “‘Whoever
does not carry his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple.’” Whoever does not carry his own
ignominious symbol of defeat, cannot be a follower of Jesus. That’s not the sort of thing you do to
gain a large following. No one
wants to daydream about hanging, naked as the day you were born, in front of
soldiers who are jeering at you, while your arms and legs are attached to the
cross by nails. No one wants to
aim for being suspended on a rough piece of wood, the weight of your own body
causing your lungs to slowly fill with fluid until you can no longer even
breath. And yet, as Christians,
that is what we are called to do.
In the
song, “The Old Rugged Cross,” the second half of the refrain goes, “I will
cling to the old rugged cross and exchange it someday for a crown.” It so easy to try to forget the cross
part, and go straight for the crown.
Who doesn’t want to share in glory?!? Who doesn’t want the reward?!? And yet, the only way to do that is through the old, rugged
cross. St. Rose of Lima, the first
canonized saint of the Americas, whose memorial we celebrated on 23 August
adeptly related an experience of the Lord, who said to her, “‘Let all men know
that grace comes after tribulation.
Let them know that without the burden of afflictions it is impossible to
reach the height of grace…This is the only true stairway to paradise, and without
the cross they can find no road to climb to heaven.’” If we wish to go to heaven, then we must not only know the
cross, but embrace and cling to it.
It may seem harsh, but it was the only way that our Master showed us,
who only gained the resurrection after his crucifixion.
It’s
also very easy to give the cross lip service. We’ve become so used to it that we think we can utter
beautiful platitudes about carrying our cross. But when the cross comes into our lives, do we cling to it,
embrace it? Some crosses are
big. I think of the families in
our parish who have miscarried, or who have lost a child shortly after
birth. What a cross. Those families have certainly
experienced the dying of Jesus in their lives, and, as much as they have united
it to Jesus, will also experience the resurrection of Jesus. Some crosses are small. I think of those who talk about
co-workers who get on their nerves; family members who always seem to be in
trouble or looking for help; drivers who cut you off; the plans that fell
through; the professor with whom you don’t see eye to eye; and the list goes
on. Those are also crosses, and
more often than not I don’t think we embrace them. We tend not to thank God for annoying co-workers, bad
drivers, ruined plans. And yet, that
is the cross the Lord is presenting to us to carry. That is what we should embrace. St. Thérèse of Lisieux is a perfect example of this. There were a few sisters in her convent
who annoyed her to no end (I’m sure Sr. Dorothy and Sr. Liz have never
experienced this): one with the sounds she made during prayer; another with her
attitude. What did she do? She willed to love them and smile to
them. There was food that was
prepared that she could not stand, but she smiled every time it was placed in
front of her, because she saw in it the cross that the Lord had given her. And, she smiled so much at that cross,
that while she was dying with Tuberculosis, the sisters made some especially
for her, thinking that it was her favorite!
To
embrace the cross seems foolish.
St. Paul himself says, “but we proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling
block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, but to those who are called, Jews
and Greeks alike, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. For the foolishness of God is wiser
than human wisdom.” Isn’t that what
our first reading is all about: the wisdom of God? God gave us His counsel, His
wisdom, in Jesus, who teaches us to take up our cross and follow Him, so that
we who share in Jesus’ suffering and death might also share in His
resurrection. May our words and
our very lives be the second half of that refrain from “The Old Rugged Cross”:
“I will cling to the old rugged cross, and exchange it someday for a crown.”
