Son of God, Madman, or Something Worse

Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time

            Sometimes we can come across Scriptural passages that are difficult to understand.  I think today is one of those passages.  This account of Jesus doesn’t seem to jive with the mental picture most of us have of Jesus.  This is why, when we read the Scriptures, we should always have some sort of guide with us, whether it’s a book, a website, or a person.

            Because it looks today like Jesus is being mean at best, and at worst, racist!  Why won’t Jesus heal the woman’s daughter who is tormented by a demon?  Is it just because she is Canaanite?  Didn’t Jesus come to free captives, especially those who were entrapped by the Devil?  Our first reading from the Book of Isaiah seems to say that anyone who tries to follow God will be welcomed, and the sacrifices they make will be acceptable to him. 

One way to approach this passage is to take the Thomas Jefferson approach.  He was a Deist, that is, he believed in God, but not a personal God.  He believed God just set the world in motion and is now letting it run its course, without any personal involvement.  So, when he came to any miracles (a very personal involvement by God to suspend the laws of nature), he just eliminated them from the Bible.  It made his life much easier.  But, such a view, of course, treats the Scriptures as just another old piece of literature, and not as Divinely Inspired.  Treating the Scriptures as if we can pick and choose which parts we like makes us the masters of God’s revelation, rather than the recipients.

So, if we’re going to be recipients of what God is telling us, how do we deal with this passage?  How do we deal with, “‘It is not right to take the food of the children and throw it to the dogs’”?  Well, let’s start by actually looking at the whole passage.  Yes, the woman is a Canaanite.  This means she is a pagan.  She does not believe in the true God, but worships many false gods.  She is not part of the Chosen People, Israel.  She also truly has a daughter who is possessed by a demon.  This is not very surprising, because when we deal with false gods, we’re often times dealing with demons.  That’s still true today.  When we mess around with astrology, tarot cards, Ouija boards, and false gods, we’re opening ourselves up to demonic activity.

But look at what Jesus says.  He doesn’t actually say no.  When the disciples want Jesus to send her away, He replies that he was sent “‘only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.’”  She continues to plead for help.  The Lord has what sounds like a very cutting line, “‘It is not right to take the food of the children and throw it to the dogs.’”  Things sound pretty bad.  But then the woman pleads still more, “‘Please, Lord, for even the dogs eat the scraps that fall from the table of their masters.’”  And then Jesus seems to do a 180: “‘O woman, great is your faith!  Let it be done for you as you wish.’”  Jesus wasn’t trying to put her down, or deny her daughter freedom from the Evil One.  Instead, He was searching out her faith.  He was trying to see if she was just coming to Him because he had done some pretty amazing things, like any other wonder worker, or if she truly had faith that He was Lord.

Of course, we should ask ourselves: who do I believe Jesus is?  Spoiler alert: Jesus will ask his disciples the same question next Sunday.  But we should start soul searching now.  Do we have faith in Jesus?  Or is Jesus just another wonder worker in our life?  Is He one of many gurus?  Who do we go to more for guidance in our life decisions: Jesus, our horoscope, our yoga instructor, or any other false gods we set up in our life? 

It’s probably not news when I tell you that, in the United States, only 25-30% of baptized Catholics attend Mass on a regular basis.  I know you’ve experienced that in our own parish.  I’m personally happy so many of you are here today.  I’m not happy because it means that we’ll make our budget for our weekly collection (though I hope that happens and it does make my life easier).  I’m not happy because our numbers may be getting better than the national average.  I’m happy that you’re here today because it means you have an opportunity to encounter Jesus in the Word of God and in His Body and Blood, and that encounter will help strengthen your faith.  Why do Catholics feel attending Mass each Sunday is optional?  There are a lot of reasons: an unpopular priest; music not to their taste; boring homilies.  But at the heart of them stands the reason that Jesus is just one among many.  The conviction that Jesus is Lord is absent from their lives.  Jesus is more like Santa Claus: if we’ve been good, He gives us what we want.  If not, we go to Hell.  We want good things, so we come to Mass, to extort the blessings of God in a religious quid pro quo.  But if Jesus is not Lord, then it is a waste of time to come to Mass.  Only if Jesus is God–the way we figure out how to live–does coming back each Sunday make sense.

C.S. Lewis puts it this way in his book, Mere Christianity:

A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher.  He would either be a lunatic–on the level with the man who says he is a poached egg–or else he would be the Devil of Hell.  You must make your choice.  Either this man was, and is, the Son of God, or else a madman or something worse.  You can shut him up for a fool, you can spit at him and kill him as a demon, or you can fall at his feet and call him Lord and God, but let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about his being a great human teacher.

Maybe, right now, you’re thinking that Jesus is just one great moral teacher, like Confucius, Buddha, Socrates, or Gandhi.  Right now, Jesus is searching out your faith.  And the good news is that Jesus wants to help you have faith that He is Lord.  By coming here, you at least have the chance to affirm that Jesus is Lord, and you want to form your life around Him.  By coming here today you can make your own the prayer of the father who came to Jesus: “‘I do believe; help my unbelief!’”  And if you have faith, not just because you’ve been a good boy or girl, Jesus wants to heal you, to strengthen you, to bless you, and to stand with you, even in life’s difficulties.  Let us proclaim, with our hearts and our lips and our lives, that Jesus is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

Get Out of the Boat!!

Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

            This is one of those Gospel passages we’ve heard a lot in our life if we’ve been going to church every Sunday.  We probably heard it as children as our parents read the Bible to us or told us Bible stories.  Perhaps it’s so familiar to us that we don’t even really think about it any more, or go deeper.  But the point of repetition is so that we don’t just stay at the surface level, especially when it comes to the Scriptures and the Liturgy.  When we’ve heard a story over and over again, we’re not supposed to think: that’s boring!  We’re supposed to think: I know what the main story is, now what more is there to this that I haven’t found?

            I’d like to propose that St. Peter, who is often the “bad guy” in this story for his lack of faith, be reconsidered.  Certainly, we cannot change Jesus’ words that do mourn Peter’s lack of faith as he is sinking amid the waves.  But, where, we can ask, were the other eleven apostles?  St. Peter was at least bold enough to start out on the waters at Jesus’ command.  The others, at least from the text, never even considered going to Jesus, but just stayed in the boat as the wind and waves crashed around them.

            If anything, we should applaud the fact that St. Peter was willing, at his own suggestion, to walk on water like Jesus.  It was Peter who said that if that specter on the horizon was Jesus, to command him to walk on water.  St. Peter showed a deep faith at first, trusting that Jesus, His Master, and His Lord, would not let him sink.  Instead, we tend to focus on that one line, “‘O you of little faith, why did you doubt?’”

            But where was the faith of the eleven other apostles?  Where were their bold acts of rushing towards Jesus?  But, lest self-righteous indignation start to creep in, whether at the lack of faith of St. Peter or the lack of faith of the other eleven, we then have to turn back to ourselves and consider: where are our bold acts?  When was the last time we rushed to the Lord?

            Besides maybe breaking local speed laws to get to church on time, when was the last time we rushed to see Jesus?  When was the last time we went out on the waters, though the wind was strong and the waves were around us, to be close to Jesus?  For the ancient people, especially the Jews, water was a sign of life, but it was also a sign of chaos and death and destruction.  At the beginning, God has to order the waters of chaos.  Water is what kills the evil generation in the days of Noah.  Water just as likely killed as give life.  And yet, Jesus is out there, with no fear of the chaos, and, in fact, standing over it, with the waters of chaos under the dominion of His feet.  And it is over those waters of chaos that Peter goes out to Jesus.

            We are sometimes afraid to go to meet Jesus because of the chaos that surrounds our life.  Our fear to run to Jesus is related to whether or not we know Jesus.  St. Peter loved Jesus, and was willing to do anything for Him, because Peter had spent months and years following Him.  How much time do we spend with Jesus?  Do we know how to recognize His presence?

            In our first reading, the ways that Elijah does not experience God are classical ways that God reveals Himself, what we call a theophany.  In the Old Testament, God frequently reveals Himself in a strong wind, in an earthquake, in a fire.  But this time, with Elijah, God only reveals Himself in the silence.  And this presence of God is so powerful that Elijah has to hide his face in his cloak. 

            God still reveals Himself in many ways: in the poor; in those who mourn; in a beautiful Mass; in a stunning sunset; and the list goes on and on.  But God often reveals Himself in silence.  And we are not a society that likes silence.  I certainly include myself in that last statement.  I love to have my iTunes playing on my phone, or the radio on in my car, or the TV on, even if just for background noise.  It takes effort for me to have silence, even though I try to get at least a good 45 minutes per day of silent prayer with God.  Silence is difficult sometimes.  Sometimes silence is scary, because in the silence, we can actually hear God speak.  And if we are afraid of what God will say, it’s easier to flood our world with noise.  I try to provide some silence here in Mass: purposeful silence, not just waiting for the next thing to start.  But we need more than what we can get in the Mass.  We need time to be alone with God.  We need time to encounter God in a real way.  One easy way is by spending time with Jesus in adoration of the Blessed Sacrament every Tuesday evening form 5:45-7 p.m.  Jesus is there.  All we have to do is come by and visit. 

Another great way to be alone with God is through a retreat.  In our diocese we are trying to reinvigorate the Cursillo retreat, a time where we get to know God and know ourselves better, and have a personal encounter with God.  We all need a personal encounter with God.  We all need to have a time in our life that we can say that we met Jesus.  If not, our faith will grow weaker, and we will not be convincing witnesses to Jesus.  You cannot give what you don’t have.  If we don’t have Jesus, we cannot give Him to others.  Whether it’s Cursillo, or any other Catholic retreat, we need to encounter Jesus.  Only then will we have the courage to get out of the boat like Peter and rush to Jesus.  I know we’re all busy.  But this is important.  In the coming years, it looks more and more like our faith will be tested in public.  If we don’t have a personal encounter with Jesus, we will deny Him by our words and deeds.  If you knew your eternal salvation depended on a time with Jesus, would you take it?  Because our eternal salvation does rely on personally knowing Jesus, not just knowing about Him.  Retreats are perfect times to encounter Jesus.  Our times of Adoration on Tuesday nights are perfect times to encounter Jesus.  May our faith be strong enough to jump out of the apparent safety of the boat of our lives and rush to Jesus, even walking on water to get to Him, knowing that He will not let us drown.

300 Acres of Pizza

Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

            Probably a Chipotle barbacoa burrito and a root beer with two slices of lemon.  Or maybe a well-marbled porterhouse steak with a nice glass of red wine (you don’t have to card me, I am of age).  Those are probably my favorite meals.  On a very joyous day in the life of the church, like a holyday or the day of a patron saint, that would be a good meal.

            Every person has his or her own favorite meal.  Maybe it’s a meal cooked by mom.  Maybe it’s fast food.  Maybe it’s whatever is left over in the fridge.  Sometimes it’s just one food.  Maybe it’s more like a top ten…or twenty.  Lots of people like pizza.  According to one website, Americans consumed 3 billion pizzas last year.  That’s billion with a b.  That’s 300 acres, or 57 square miles of pizza.  That’s a lot of eating. 

            There was a lot of eating today in the Gospel passage we heard.  The people ate until they were satisfied, and there were 5,000 men, “not counting women and children.”  They didn’t have pizza.  They didn’t have steak.  They certainly didn’t have a barbacoa burrito.  Loaves and fish were on the menu that day, and that’s what the people ate.  That’s what Jesus fed them.

            Now some people will say that the miracle that happened there is that Jesus got all the people to share with each other, because they felt bad that they had something hidden in their tunics, and all the disciples had were five loaves and two fish.  And certainly, especially in some families, or with college students, sharing is a minor miracle.  But that eisegesis, that reading our modern presuppositions into the Scripture, does not gel with the point that St. Matthew is trying to get across: Jesus fed the people.  Jesus’ concern for them led Him to supply their needs.  We heard in the psalm response: “The hand of the Lord feeds us; he answers all our needs.”  These people were fed by the hand of the Lord.  God the Father took care of His children. 

            Have you ever seen a child try to cook dinner for itself?  It’s a mess!!  The measurements are never right, they can’t use the oven or the stove, and there are spices and liquids all over the place.  I once tried to make zucchini bread for my mom when she was gone and I was being watched by a baby sitter.  Don’t ask me why, but my baby sitter let me.  I thought that all we needed was shredded zucchini, flour, eggs, and milk.  So I mixed them together in a bread pan and stuck it in the oven at 350 degrees for 20 minutes with my baby sitter’s help (don’t worry, I have come a long way since then in cooking).  When it came out, I stuck a toothpick in it, because that’s what you do when you’re done cooking bread.  I had no idea what it was supposed to do, but I had seen my mother do it countless times, so I did it, too.  And then I cut a piece for myself.  It was gooey on the inside, and it tasted nothing like my mother’s zucchini bread.  None of you are probably surprised.

            When we try to feed ourselves, by ourselves, we ruin it, and we end up hungry.  When we are convinced we have everything under control and we know how to do it best by ourselves (like a child), very little turns out right.  We don’t know how to get the good stuff, and we tend to choose the bad stuff given the choice.  The child in the checkout lane never chooses something healthy.  He or she almost always goes for the candy.  We cannot feed ourselves. 

            But Jesus does not leave us to our own devices to starve.  He loves us too much to do that.  His heart is moved with pity for us, because we cannot provide what we need for ourselves.  Oh sure, we can provide work for ourselves (though even those talents that get us a job come from God), and we can make a living, and provide food and drink and a house and healthcare: the basic necessities of life, if we’re diligent, hardworking, and lucky.  But when we die, and we all will, what then?  We don’t know how to bake salvation.  We’ve tried.  It’s ended badly. 

            Jesus offers us salvation.  He feeds us with the finest wheat.  We do not feed ourselves.  When we try, we’re like the Israelites in the desert who tried to get more manna than we needed, only to see it rot.  We’re like the people from the first reading who spend our money on what is not bread and our wages for what fails to satisfy.  If you want to eat, says the Lord through the Prophet Isaiah, come to me.  You will be satisfied.

           

In Israel, in the city of Tabgha, there is a church called the Church of the Multiplication of the Loaves and Fish.  And in the floor in front of  the main altar, there is a famous mosaic.  The mosaic is a picture of a basket with two fish and four loaves.  No, they didn’t count incorrectly.  The fifth loaf is on the altar.  We take what we can do: provide the basics.  We give God the bread.  That bread is made up of many grains of wheat crushed and ground to a fine flour.  That’s our life.  We’re not meant only to give God the hosts.  We’re supposed to unite our lives—the parts that are joyful and the parts of us that have been crushed—with the bread.  And in offering that little bit to God, we receive back what we could have never created on our own: the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ.  God is so good to us.  He doesn’t let us starve.  He satisfies us with the bread from heaven.  Mere men (both men and women) eat the bread of angels, the panis angelicus.  “The hand of the Lord feeds us; he answers all our needs.”