Twenty-first Sunday in Ordinary TimeWhy such difficulty to enter heaven? Jesus says that the way to heaven is narrow, and many are not strong enough to enter. Certainly, the easy answer is that our fallen human nature tends towards things that it should not want. We call this concupiscence. But I think that there’s a larger point that Jesus was making, and it didn’t really occur to me until around midday this/Saturday morning.
For those of you who don’t know, I had been training to run the Crim, and had signed up to do the full 10-mile race. I had never run 10 miles in my life (and this may be the only time I do so). I knew I had to train, and in May asked one of the Powers graduates who ran cross country, Ethan Hamilton, for advice. He suggested that I try to run 5 miles 3-4 times per week, and 7.5 miles once per week. Because of my parish and State Police responsibilities, and especially never knowing when I would be needed for an emergency, I ran around the edge of the parking lot. So you’re aware, the edge of our parking lot is about four-tenths of a mile, so I was running a little bit more than 12 laps for 5 miles, and around 18 laps for 7.5. It was not the most entertaining path to run. I trained pretty well in May, really well in June, and then in July things started to taper off a bit as my resolve wavered, and in the past few weeks, I did not run as much as I should, and I had only done one 7.5 mile run in probably 2 months.
So, I trained, and yesterday morning, I ran the CRIM. I was nervous (I don't know why; it’s only running and I didn’t have a goal for time, I simply wanted to finish and try not to walk any of it). One of our parish families helped me navigate getting to parking and getting around before the race began. And then the race started. My parents had come (they have both run marathons, including Boston) to support me, as well. As I ran the race, there were people lining the streets, cheering everyone on. But what I noticed is that, when I saw parishioners, or when I saw Troops from our Flint Post who were working traffic, I got an extra boost.
I had been warned about the dreaded Bradley Hills, the steep inclines on Bradley Street that occur around miles 5-6. Honestly, and I don’t say this to brag, but they weren’t that bad for me. And part of the reason was a word that I said when running up them (and all the hills): Currahee. I learned the word from watching “Band of Brothers,” an HBO miniseries on Easy Company of the 2nd Battalion of the 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment of the 101st Airborne Division of the Army in World War II. Currahee was the name of a hill they had to run up and down at Camp Toccoa for training. And the word Currahee is a Cherokee word which means, “We stand alone.” That word connected me to the heroes who worked hard to be prepared so that, when they landed behind enemy lines the night of D-Day; when they were surrounded and short of ammo in the snowy forest of Bastogne in the Battle of the Bulge; as they ran up Eagle’s Nest in some of the last holdouts of Nazi Germany; they could conquer any force that came their way. I mention the CRIM because I realized that I was able to accomplish what I did because of others. If I would have tried the CRIM alone, and had no support from parishioners and Troopers, I hope I would have finished, but maybe I would have walked, and maybe it wouldn’t have happened at all.
The most important support in salvation is, of course, Jesus, without whom salvation is impossible. Without Jesus, we can do nothing that will get us to heaven, no matter how many “good deeds” we do. But how often do we try to make it on our own good deeds and best behavior? And how often do we not even live up the weak standards we set for our behavior?
It’s also important to work with each other to get to heaven. Again, without Jesus, no matter how many supporters we have, we can’t get there. But maybe we need to focus more on helping each other get to heaven. It’s the reason the Church exists: as a band of brothers (and sisters) who help each other get to heaven. Coming for Mass is the chance to root each other on, as well as to partner up again with Jesus through worthy reception of Holy Communion. Confession is saying sorry for the ways that we tried to make it on our own, and weren’t successful. But we need each other. It’s not simply me and Jesus. Jesus has a Mystical Body, and that Mystical Body is the Church, where we are assembled to help each other on the way to salvation. That’s my mission as your pastor: to help you get to heaven. I hope your mission as parishioners is to help me get to heaven.
St. Paul compares life to a race. He says in his second letter to St. Timothy: “I have competed well; I have finished the race…From now on the crown of righteousness awaits me.” In the CRIM today I was given strength by the parishioners and Troops who waved and cheered as I passed them by. I was able to finish (my official time was 1:34:58; not bad for a first-timer) my race because of others. Heaven is not necessarily hard because of the moral demands that Jesus makes on each one of us. It’s hard, and many fail to enter, because they try without Jesus, and without their brothers and sisters in the Church. Don’t run alone; you’ll never make it. Run with Jesus; don’t simply focus on yourself; help others get to heaven. It will make the race much easier.
