On Smelling Like the Sheep: Homily for the Feast of Christ the King

 

26 November 2023

Ez 34:11-12; 15-17

Ps 23

1 Cor 15:20-26, 28

Mt 25: 31-46

 

We are now entering the season of Handel's "Messiah." It will be performed well and it will be performed poorly many times during the coming weeks.  Boston Baroque, a group I've heard perform Messiah many times over the past 30 years,

will perform it magnificently.  The libretto of Messiah, arranged by Charles Jennens, is taken entirely from scripture. It includes verses from the second reading.

 

"Since by man came death" is sung a capella in a somber key.  And then the chorus and orchestra explode with joy as they proclaim, "By man came also the resurrection of the dead."  The man by whom came death was Adam who would not submit to God's will in obedience. The man by whom came the resurrection of the dead was Jesus, like us in all things but sin,  whose obedience to the Father's will was perfect. 

 

Jesus is the good shepherd who leads the flock to restful waters, and guides it in right paths.  He is King of the universe for as long as the universe continues to exist and will remain King when the universe as it is known ceases to exist.  Jesus reigns above all things for all time and beyond the eventual end of time.  Jesus is the shepherd-king who judges the world and all its peoples. 

 

The Feast of Christ the King is a fairly new one in the history of the Church. It was promulgated by Pope Pius XI  only in 1925.  Originally celebrated on the last Sunday in October, it was moved to the last Sunday of the Church year in 1969.

Next Sunday, with images of shepherd and king echoing in our memories we will observe the First Sunday of Advent and begin a new liturgical year.  We will be

advised to remain watchful and alert.  The  images in today's readings  are those of comfort and judgment, of punishment and reward. They are worth considering closely.

 

Unfortunately, we hear only disconnected verses from the 34th Chapter of Ezekiel. The entire chapter should be read by all politicians, leaders, teachers,

and anyone else in a position of authority.  Most particularly it should be read by priests and clergy. The second verse gives the context: The Lord said:  “Ah, you shepherds of Israel, who have been tending yourselves! Is it not the flock that the shepherds ought to tend?"

 

One of Pope Francis' most famous early remarks was, Priests should be ‘shepherds living with the smell of the sheep.’  That smell only sticks when a priest, a physician, a senator, a governor, or a president remains down with the sheep rather than being insulated by layers of others to do the dirty work.  In this context, the words, "but the sleek and the strong I will destroy" make sense.  The sleek and the strong are the rulers, the "alpha sheep" who, upon attaining power, destroy or waste what they don't want. 

 

Later in the same chapter of Ezekiel we hear the harsh condemnation

of shepherds and leaders who take care only of themselves. "Is it not enough for you to graze on choice grazing ground, . . .  must you also trample with your feet

what is left from your grazing? . . .Must my flock graze on what your feet have trampled?"  After reading Ezekiel one can see the roots of Jesus' words in the Gospel.

 

The image in the Gospel is that of the shepherd-king, who must now cull his flock.  The determining factors between punishment and reward,

are the two great and inseparable commandments:

 

Love of God

Love of Neighbor.

 

When did I see you hungry, thirsty, tired, stranded, broke, sorrowing, ill? 

Fill in your own words.  Rework this gospel to fit today.

 

When we allow ourselves to smell like the sheep for whom we are caring, when we are down and dirty rather than appearing in the kind of white construction helmet beloved of presidents, helmets that are useful only for photo ops, we will be counted among the righteous. We will be counted among those who, to paraphrase St. Francis of Assisi, preached the gospel without necessarily using words. And we will take our place with great joy at the King's right.

 

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Photos taken on a particularly magnificent Saturday afternoon in July 2014 in Lyon, France, a most beautiful city.  The Jesuit community was a very short walk to Old City.  Lyon is an ancient city and was the see for St. Irenaeus as bishop  

One of the many many outdoor cafes scattered throughout the city

The Church of St. Georges is in the foreground.  All Masses are Tidentine Rite.  The church at the top of the hill is the Basilica of Notre Dame de Fourviere.  Our community was just 50 yards from the end of the bridge on the right of the photo.

An outdoor market

A small cafe just across the street from the door to our community.

Fr. Jack, SJ, MD

Right Fear of the Lord: Homily for the 33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time

Prv 31:10-13, 19-20, 30-31

Ps 128 1-5

1 Thes 5:1-6

Mt 25:14-30

 

Today’s readings can be summarized in one word: fear, specifically fear of the Lord. The word fear appears in the first reading, the psalm, and the gospel. Anxiety about the future appears in the second reading.   Fear of one's master is prominent in the Gospel while the psalm associates the words fear and Lord twice. Thus there is a need to consider what fear of the Lord is and, perhaps more critically, what fear of the Lord is not.

 

Generating fear in another has been used and abused throughout the millennia.

It is still used by everything from frustrated parents trying to get an eight year-old to behave to national governments forcing the ideology du jour on a population. Fear of the Lord, however, has nothing to do with gut-churning, hand-trembling, sweat-inducing terror. Fear of the Lord is closer to love and awe than it is to the emotions and physical signs we generally associate with the word fear.

 

Protestant theologian Karl Barth makes an important distinction between anxiety-driven fear and what he calls ‘right fear of the Lord.’  He explains, “When the right fear of the Lord takes possession of our hearts we are both lost in amazement and struck by awe even terror.  For we discover that God, since the beginning of time, has not hated or threatened us but has loved  and chosen us . . . Right fear of the Lord springs from the discovery that God gave His Beloved Son for us.”  

 

Right fear of the Lord is a complicated mix of emotions which threaten to overwhelm us when we finally realize that despite being sinners that despite being unworthy, God loved us and continues to love us. As per Barth, we know fear of the Lord when we realize that we are sinners who God loved so greatly

that He sent His only Son to redeem us.  Right fear of the Lord is not driven by anxiety nor does it cause anxiety. Right fear of the Lord is driven by the kind of gratitude that appears again and again in the psalms.  Right fear of the Lord is akin to the fear of disappointing those who love us BECAUSE they love us.  

 

Throughout our lives we have feared disappointing parents, friends, spouses, children, mentors, and others.  We fear letting others down because of our own sin, our own carelessness, or our own lack of love. When we do not know that kind of fear or concern we are moving toward becoming self-absorbed sociopaths.

 

Jesuit theologian Xavier Leon-Dufour writes, “Reverential fear, which shows itself in adoration, is different in that it is the normal reaction of the believer standing before the Divine. . . it draws one toward deeper faith.”  The gospel parable is about that deeper faith.

 

It is important to recall that a parable is a mixture of narrative, allusion, metaphor, simile and, especially in this parable, hyperbole.  The hyperbole is emphasized by the use of the 'talent' which frequently passes without any explanation from the pulpit. 

 

For most of my youth I assumed a talent was exactly that: a talent.  The ability to play the piano, make a hook shot, or whistle on key, perhaps the rarest talent of the three.  Even when I realized that a talent had something to do with money I had no idea  what it was worth.  Ditto for the value of a denarius.

 

The denarius was a Roman coin that was the equivalent of a day's wages. It is mentioned only in the Gospels and once in Revelation.  The talent, on the other hand, was a form of Jewish currency.  References to talents appear in several places in the Old Testament.  However, the talent is mentioned only in Matthew's Gospel; a gospel written for a Jewish-Christian community whose members alone would understand the reference.  Converting the denarius and talent into modern currency slams home the point of this gospel and faith.

 

At a minimum wage of $7.55/hour, a denarius would be worth $60.40 for an eight-hour day.  A talent was worth between 6,000 and 10,000 denarii.  Using a midpoint of 8,000 denarii the servant who received one talent was given $483,000.00!  The servant given five talents received $2,416,000.00.  And the servant who receive two talents got almost a cool million.  The hyperbole used to describe the seeds of faith we are given and how we nurture it, is obvious.

 

We do not and cannot possibly purchase faith.  We do not have to earn it.  It is given to us freely, in great measure, and overflowing.  Others can and must at times guide us in our faith and teach us how to nurture it--the most important role of parents and teachers--but no one can do the work of nurturing that faith for us.

 

Those who, like the first two servants, nurture their faith so that it increases, those who live their lives in accord with that faith, will be rewarded and share in the Master's joy.  Those who, like the servant given one talent, bury their faith, ignoring it, or pulling it out only in times of difficulty or stress, or perhaps for a few days at Christmas, will eventually lose even that.   

 

All three servants knew fear of their Master. All three servants knew fear of the Lord.  For the first two fear of the Lord was the awe and reverence, that Barth described as “right fear of the Lord.”  Their faith, symbolized by the talents, grew as they awaited the master's return.  Their reward was great when he did return. 

 

The third servant knew only anxiety-driven fear of the Lord.  He knew only timidity, a lack of confidence in the Lord, and unwillingness to trust the Lord. When the Master returned he lost even what he had and was thrown into darkness.  We have the same choice as those servants.Thus the psalm that accompanies the readings.

 

"Blessed are you who fear the LORD,

who walk in his ways!

For you shall eat the fruit of your handiwork;

blessed shall you be, and favored."

 

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Water is one of the most pleasing things to photograph under almost any circumstances.  Thus the attached shots are united only by involving water and they span the globe from Australia to Slovenia, not leaving out the U.S. 

 

The lighthouse at the entrance to  Cohassett Harbor  Used a very long lens

Rowers on the Ljubljanica River in Ljubljana, Slovenia

Surfers heading for the waves on Thanksgiving Day several years ago.  Taken in Swampscott, MA.

The red sailboat moored in Boston Bay in Port Lincoln, South Australia. 

 

Fr. Jack, SJ, MD

My Heart is not Proud_Homily for the 31st Sunday in Ordinary Time

 

Mal 1:14b-2:2b, 8-10

Ps 131

1 Thes 2:7b-9, 13

Mt 23:1-12

 

Time is passing quickly.  Three weeks from today we will celebrate the Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe. It is the last Sunday of Ordinary Time before the calendar flips to a new liturgical year on the First Sunday of Advent. 

 

But last night time passed a little more slowly with annual do-over between 1:00 and 2:00 AM as the clocks were set back.  For many the earlier onset of darkness that begins this afternoon makes time seem to pass very slowly.  As will the cold, snow, and wind.  Welcome to New England.

 

The first reading comes from Malachi one of the Minor Prophets, a designation that does not indicate lack of importance. The twelve books making up the minor prophets are very short compared with books such as Isaiah, from which we will hear a great deal during Advent.    

 

These twelve short books are contained on one scroll whereas the other prophets were long enough to fill an entire scroll.  Malachi was composed 500 years before Jesus’ birth.  In its introduction to the book the Jewish Study Bible notes that the temple had been rebuilt only recently allowing the resumption of sacrificial worship.  Something like the U.S. government allowing churches to reopen after covid.  But all was not entirely well. 

 

The reading today criticizes both improper temple sacrifice on the part of the people as well as improper behavior of priests who are reminded that they are the Lord’s messengers who are expected to perform their duties as the Lord expects rather than being the equivalent of lone rangers, adapting their role and preaching to what society wants to hear no matter how contrary to God’s law. 

 

“O LORD, my heart is not proud,
nor are my eyes haughty;
I busy not myself with great things,

nor with things too sublime for me.”

 

The psalmist begins his plea with a confession of humility, denying that his heart is proud or, in another translation, that his heart is not lifted too high. Nor is his gaze. 

 

Pride may be the most deadly of the seven deadly sins.  It is the driver of many other sins.  In Vermont’s Charterhouse of the Transfiguration  the penitential rite is worded differently from the Roman rite.  Same sentiments of contrition but one hears an important reminder, “I confess to God and to you . . .that I have sinned exceedingly through pride. “ 

 

Pride is not invariably dangerous.  There are some whose ‘humility’ and professed self-abasement is a form of pride meant to seek further accolades and reassurance of one’s value. Taking pride in one’s work is a virtue that moves the artist, the worker, the teacher, and all other professions to doing more than the bare minimum.  But pride can quickly degenerate into haughtiness or vainglory.  At the best of times pride is akin to walking tightrope without a net an appropriate degree can become overweening very easily. 

 

In his commentary on the responsorial psalm Jesuit Father Dick Clifford writes, “raising one’s eyes is a sign of pride as one surveys the world as if one owned it.”  It is looking down one’s nose at another whom one considers an inferior. Pride at its worst.  Becoming occupied with things beyond one’s capacity, training, or ability is an act of arrogance. 

 

Fr. Clifford notes that the psalm is modern—though we don’t hear that part— in its encouragement to surrender to a higher power and to urge others to do the same.  It tells us that peace descends like the dewfall, quietly and imperceptibly, once we accept our dependence on God’s grace.

 

Echoing the reading from Malachi and the psalm, Jesus warns against abuses of power of the type that demands others do as one says while excusing oneself from the same command.  Thus, it was amusing to see photos of the Washington elite partying without masks during the height of covid while most of the rest of us had to be content with a beer and reruns of Gilligan’s Island.  Apparently banquets were permitted the elite but the Eucharistic banquet was off limits to those who were once referred to as a “basket of deplorables.”  

 

Jesus warns against the pride that degenerates into the haughtiness and arrogance that burdens others while driving public actions performed only so that they can be seen.  Does a president really need to be seen spending a total of 12 minutes on a UAW picket line?

 

The warning at the end of the gospel repeats a theme that recurs in the gospels. “Whoever exalts himself will be humbled; but whoever humbles himself will be exalted.”

 

Thus we say with the psalmist

“O Israel, hope in the LORD,
both now and forever.”

 

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Clocks go back tonight.  Lots of people getting cranky about it.  The photos below reflect a bout of insomnia in Ljubljana.  Woke at 4 AM in the early spring.  Knew sleep was going to be impossible.   So I grabbed a camera with only one lens and wandered Ljubljana for a few hours.  Streets were deserted (and very safe).  It turned out to be a memorable morning.  And the walking was enough to get me back to sleep for a few hours.

 

Blue bottle left on table over night

An empty street in the center of town

Stairs to an underground area.  There is no subway in LJ.

Along the Ljubljanica River.  Later in the day it would be bustlilng .

It was early March.  Great light.

Fr Jack, SJ, MD

Requiem Aeternam: Homily for All Soul's Day

 

Wisdom 3:1-9

1 Cor 15:51-57

Jn 11:17-27

 

"People don't want to let go. . . . They think it's supposed to last forever"

 

"But it happens anyway . . . . it doesn't matter what you do, you can't stop it."

 

"This living . . . . this life . . . . it doesn't last forever"

 

"It was never supposed to last forever." 

 

These lines come from the poignant final scene of "The Shadow Box,"  Michael Cristofer's 1977 Pulitzer Prize winning play that was later made into a TV movie starring Valerie Harper, Christopher Plummer, and Joann Woodward. It was directed by Paul Newman. 

 

"The Shadow Box" reminds us of the limits of life.  It places in sharp relief the shock when we realize that our lives are finite. and it shows the agonizing realization when it hits us that our lives, and the lives of those we love, must end.

 

Set in a hospice the play explores the final days for three characters and their loved ones.  It does not ignore the strains on relationships when it becomes obvious that death is inevitable. It acknowledges the pain when we realize 

"it doesn't last forever."  It captures the difficult moment when it becomes apparent that "It was never supposed to last forever."

 

Being with someone at the moment of death is to experience awe in the truest sense of the term.  The last blip on the monitor.  The moment when all movement ceases.  A sigh as the final breath escapes the body.  Suddenly a life is over.  Everything has ended.  Everything has changed. 

 

We heard in Paul’s letter " . . . in an instant, in the blink of an eye."  We all die in a smallest flicker of time.  Even though the illness that led to death may have been prolonged, though death may have been held off for months with medical technology, the movement from life to eternal life takes place in an instant.  At that moment we are thrown into the tasks of grieving and  mourning.  We are forced to begin adapting to an absence in our lives. 

 

We don't want to let go. 

We never want to let go.

We do believe it is going to last forever.

But it doesn't. 

It never will. 

 

We rage against the knowledge that we have carried around for most of our lives that  "It was never supposed to last forever." 

 

The Church commemorates All Soul's Day  on November 2, but we experience and commemorate private All Soul's Days throughout the year.  We observe a private All Soul's Day when we see the anniversary of death approaching and try to steel ourselves against it.  It is a private All Soul’s day when we contemplate another Thanksgiving or Christmas without the one whom we love, It is a private All Souls’ Day when suddenly recall something

of the relationship that no one else would know. And the pain comes back.

 

"The soul's of the just are in the hands of God and no torment shall touch them."

 

The beginning of the reading from Wisdom is a source of consolation, though it may take months to feel it.  The souls of the just are in the hands of God.  The souls of those whom we loved have something more than we could ever imagine.  Those whom we mourn have returned to the hands of God.  We will never know the how, the what, or the where of the eternal life that was won for us through Jesus' sacrifice.  We can never know eternal life until we ourselves have died.  For now, we can only know through faith that the souls of those whom we loved and who loved us, are held now and for eternity in the hands of God.

 

That knowledge does not in any way relieve us of the pains or the tasks of grieving, but it may at least dull the very sharpest edges of grief.  Both of Paul’s questions in the second reading drip with sarcasm.

 

"Death where is thy victory?"

"O death, where is thy sting?"

 

One can almost hear Paul sneering.  Death's victory was snatched away

through Jesus' passion, death, resurrection, and ascension. Hell's sting was neutered by the Body and Blood of Christ.  We know this through faith as did Martha in the gospel.

 

Imagine the scene. Lazarus' sisters, friends, and other family,  are gathered at the new tomb.  Their hearts are heavy with grief as they shed tears of sorrow. 

Some were confused.  Others were angry, doubting God's goodness.

 

"Lord, if you had been here . . . ."

 

"Your brother will rise."

 

"I know he will rise . . . on the last day."

 

And then Jesus utters the most consoling words imaginable: "I am the Resurrection and the Life; he who believes in me, even if he dies, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die."

 

Then we hear Martha's profound act of faith: "You are the Christ, the Son of God . . . . "

 

Today we commemorate the souls of the dead: family, friends, and those who have no one to pray for them.  It is a day to visit a grave and place candles or flowers.  It is a day to attend Mass.  It is be a day to sit quietly alone, perhaps while saying a rosary, and recall, grieve, and pray for those who have died.

 

Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine,

et lux perpetua luceat eis.

Requiescant in pace.

 

Eternal rest grant unto them O Lord,

and let perpetual light shine upon them.

May their souls and the souls of the faithful departed

rest in peace.

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One of the Stations of the Cross in Loyola, Spain

The grave of a Kenyan Jesuit who was a very close friend.  He never made it to forty.

A monastery graveyard 

Fr. Jack, SJ, MD