Sunday, July 24, 2022

Well THAT took a lot of chutzpah: Homily for the 17th Sunday in Ordinary Time


Gen 18:20-32

Ps 137

Col 2:12-14

Luke 11:1-13


Importune and importunate are words that generally appear in Sunday crossword puzzles, biblical commentaries, and the kind of speech that the Cartwright boys on the Ponderosa would call high faluttin’.  

 

Importune is not used often in conversation but, in this case, importune is the ideal word to describe the driving force behind both the first reading and the Gospel. The verb to importune means: to beset with insistent or repeated requests, to annoy, to ask for urgently or repeatedly.  The adjective importunate means troublesomely urgent or persistent in requesting or entreating.  Some days it seems as if the sole function of a three year-old is to importune.  Can I have a cookie? Can I go outside? Can I go to school with my sister? Can I, can I, can I . . . . ? Every parent on earth has either given in at least once just to stop the persistent requests for a Happy Meal or has said in frustration: "Because!!!  That’s why!" despite having sworn never ever to say that. 

 

The picture of human nature in the first reading is fascinating.  The dialogue between Abraham and God suggests an aggressive poker hand:  Raise.  Call.  

Raise.  Call.  Abraham raises. God calls.  Abraham raises again.  God calls. Abraham goes all in.  God folds. 

 

In the commentary on this passage The Jewish Study Bible notes “Recognizing the sovereignty of God and his own subordinate status, Abraham speaks with great deference and scrupulously avoids chutzpah.”  I’m not so sure that Abraham avoids chutzpah.  Challenging God six times  so as to reduce the critical number of innocent men needed to save the city down from fifty to ten 

seems almost paradigmatic of chutzpah.  But perhaps not.  I’ll leave the fine points of defining chutzpah to the Yiddish experts.  

 

The action in the Gospel is something of a contrast to the negotiations in Genesis.  

 

In his commentary on this Gospel, Luke Timothy Johnson notes that “Luke understands God’s way of giving as exceeding that between friends.”  While our dialogue with God is conducted, for the most part, within the confines of human vocabulary and concepts, it does not—or should not—necessarily follow the conventions of typical human-to-human social interaction or conversation.  

Importune, importunate, and chutzpah really have no place when one considers prayer.  Can there ever be too much prayer?  Can one ever annoy God with prayer?  

These are questions that could send a group of theologians into a tizzy of speculation and pondering if not outright hostility toward each other,

particularly if they’ve had a few drinks first.  The simple answer is, NO.  No dissertations or monographs needed. There can never be too much prayer.  

No one can weary God with prayer.  Luke’s Gospel narrative is, like Abraham’s dialogue with God, very human.  

 

It would require no effort to act out this scene for a movie or on a stage.  The narrative is rich with human detail ranging from the locked door and the comfort of being snugly in bed—who can’t identify with that?—to the desperation of the one who is importuning his neighbor.  Please.  I must offer my guest something.  

Just a few loaves of bread.  Please.

 

The message is simple:  persistence pays off.  If a friend can be moved to respond through another’s importuning how much more will God respond to the prayer of His people?  How will He respond when we knock, when we ask, when we search?  What should we expect?

 

We should expect what we need.  Not always exactly what we ask for but what we need.  

 

Johnson introduces a fascinating point in his discussion of Luke’s of Luke’s version of the Our Father, a stripped down one compared with Matthew’s.  Luke’s and Matthew’s versions of the prayer share one phrase:  Give us this day our daily bread.  

 

The word epiousios is not found anywhere in Greek literature.  The translation depends on the shaky grounds of etymology and context.  There four options 

in the rarified world of Biblical translation:

 

Supernatural bread  That translation is described as the least likely, 

Daily bread which is the usual translation, 

Future bread, which suggests that we want to be certain of a steady supply. 

and finally give us our necessary bread.    This fourth makes a lot of sense.   

Do we have the faith to trust that God will grant us what is necessary or what we need?  

 

Is there a better request with which to importune God than give us what we need?  

 

The only possible response to that gift is to say with the psalmist:

 

I will give thanks to you, O Lord,

   with all my heart

For you have heard the words

   of my mouth . . .

When I called you answered me

   you built up strength within me. 

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Street photography is a fascinating area.  It can also be intrusive.  Many people are very sensitive about being photographed today, more so than in the past.  They can become downright aggressive if they think a photographer is capturing a shot of their child.  I don't shoot photos of people often and shots of this type even less so.  I never ever ever shoot selfies.  Ever.  Part of the reason is that 'selfie' is one of the ugliest words invented in decades..  These two were taken in Ljubljana.  The difference in the overall appearance each man speaks volumes.  How is he feeling?  What is going through his mind?  Both are alone but in different emotional worlds.  



  + Fr. Jack, SJ, MD

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