Sunday, September 4, 2022

Ya' Never Know: Homily for the 23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time

Wis 9:13-18b

Ps 90:3-6; 12-17

Phmn 9-10, 12-17

Lk 14:25-33

 

A few years ago I giggled while reading a newspaper story in which the headline trumpeted the scientist Richard Hawking's declaration: "God not necessary to create the universe."  I giggled because  of the corollary that came immediately to mind: "Richard Hawking not necessary to explain God."  It called to mind an old graffiti joke. “God is dead.  Nietzsche”  And written below . . . . “Nietzsche is dead.  God”

 

Humans are fallible unknowing creatures who struggle to make sense out of the world. They struggle to make sense of the world if they are brilliant scientists like Hawking.  They struggle to make sense of the world if they are illiterate.  They ask the same questions though the wording is different. Any answers are always tentative  and always in need of revision unless they are flat-out wrong.

 

The first verse from Wisdom is key to understanding the dilemma of being human. “Who can know God’s counsel or who can conceive what the Lord intends?”  That verse should be inscribed over the entrance to every church, theology school, and seminary in the world.  It should be inscribed on our hearts.

Perhaps recalling that question would temper some of the theological-scriptural-sociological-psychological arrogance of preachers and theologians. It might tamp down the smug certainties of fundamentalists and militant atheists alike. 

 

Who can know God’s counsel? 

Who can know what God intends? 

No one.

 

That doesn’t mean humans don’t pretend to know God’s counsel. It doesn't mean they won't offer a strong opinion on what the Lord intends, sometimes giving the impression that they were God's hired consultants.  

 

 

“Scarce do we guess the things on earth, and what is within our grasp we find with difficulty.” That is a concise history of science. It is summary of all medical advances since Hippocrates, and a synopsis of world history from before it was written down. 

 

Men on the moon . . . 

But traffic on 128, I-93, or Storrow Drive remain a nightmare.

 

Heart transplants are routine . . . 

the common cold remains an incurable scourge. 

 

Seedless watermelons that lack flavor as well as seeds

but hunger afflicts much of the world.

 

All of those accomplishments achieved with great difficulty.  

 

Our only choice is to accept our mortality, to admit our fallibility and our status as flawed beings. Our only choice is to recall that we are sinners, but sinners who are loved by God, whose counsel or intent we can never know.  When we recall this we can only marvel at the insight of the psalmist: 

“For a thousand years in your sight 

are as yesterday, . . . 

or a watch in the night. . .”

 

We do not know God’s counsel.  We do not know what the Lord intends.  It can never be otherwise.  Jesus’ parable reflects the first reading and illustrates the difficulty of being human and fallible. Who does construct a tower without calculating the cost?  The same people as those responsible for the Big Dig. 

Who marches into—or withdraws from— battle without calculating the strength of his troops or the cost of his actions?  Only a fool and the occasional president.  

 

But Jesus is not simply addressing the need to plan ahead.  He is warning us of the cost of commitment.

 

The cost of the commitments to someone who chooses to follow Jesus is high.

It is high in ways that are unique to each individual.  The cost of following Jesus 

is high in ways that reflect our individual life stories, our individual vocations, and our unique talents.

 

Jesus reminds us frequently that the cost of following Him is going to be high.  

Perhaps higher than we calculated. It may also be easier than expected. Because we cannot know God’s counsel or what He intends, we can only say yes to following Jesus on the grounds of faith, the kind of faith that the Letter to the Hebrews defines eloquently as: “. . . the realization of what is hoped for 

and evidence of things not seen.”

 

And then we pray with the psalmist: 

 

"Fill us at daybreak with your kindness,

that we may shout for joy and gladness all our days.

And may the gracious care of the LORD our God be ours;

prosper the work of our hands for us!

Prosper the work of our hands!"


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Just back from my annual eight-day retreat.  It was a good one enhanced by the fact this is the 25th Anniversary of entering the Society of Jesus back in 1997.  


The photos below were taken several years ago in a European monastery at which I did some work.  






+ Fr. Jack, SJ, MD

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