Saturday, June 29, 2024

It Was An Amazing Pass But . . . Homily for the 13th Sunday in Ordinary Time

 

Wis 1:13-15, 2:23-24

Ps 30:2,4,5,6,11-13,

2 Cor 8:7,9, 11-13

Mk 5:21-43

One of the spectacular choruses in Handel's Messiah is a study in contrasts.  In the superb recording by Boston Baroque it begins with a short minor chord on the organ after which the chorus sings a cappella: "Since by man came death." twice.  Then the organ and orchestra explode with joy as the chorus proclaims: "By man came also the resurrection of the dead" three times.  Then another somber chord leads into another a cappella passage:  "For as in Adam all die"  twice.  That is followed by another explosion of fortissimo rejoicing as organ, orchestra and chorus proclaim:  "Even so in Christ shall all be made alive" four times.  The same sort of contrast is apparent in today's readings. 

The first reading began with "God did not make death, nor does he rejoice in the destruction of the living." 

God is not a sadistic puppeteer who induces personal tragedy in random fashion.

Nor is God a benign magician who guides a desperation pass into the arms of a receiver in the end-zone, this includes the Doug Flutie to Gerry Phalen bomb with zero seconds remaining when BC beat Miami on November 23, 1984.  Both ends of the continuum represent a faith that is fit only for three year-olds.  God created the world for mankind.  God created us in His own image to be imperishable.  We promptly rejected the gifts of that creation for the hubris of being self-determining and destructive.  Thus death entered the world.  And so it remains: hubris, sin, and death.  But then we see hope in today's long Gospel reading.

It would be easy to spend most of a semester on this particular Gospel passage. 

Faith, death, ritual impurity, the significance of a 12 year-old girl and a 12 year flow of blood.  Sociology, medicine, theology, philosophy and more, all wrapped up in one reading.

The gospel includes what is sometimes called a "Markan Sandwich" a term I’d never heard until theology school.  A Markan sandwich begins with a narrative that is interrupted by a different self-contained narrative followed by the conclusion of the first narrative.  The themes uniting both narratives today are faith and the most dire forms of ritual impurity: blood and death.

The woman was excluded from full-participation in the land of the living by her chronic state of ritual impurity.  That state was due to what today is called dysfunctional uterine bleeding.  Uterine cancer?  Fibroids?  I have no clue.  She was continuously bleeding and was also infertile, something that was seen as a great curse.  Merely being touched by her, intentionally or accidentally, would transmit that ritual impurity requiring purification of the one touched. 

In the second narrative Jesus risked ritual impurity by touching the dead body of a 12 year-old girl. 

Of course today we are much too sophisticated to believe in ritual impurity.  We are too modern to believe that the mere touch of another individual could defile or contaminate us.  And, if you believe that there is this bridge in a place called Brooklyn. . . .

Suggest that animals have their place and it does not approach that of humans, and one may be accused of being a "speciesist," whatever that might mean.   God forbid one should state that male to female transsexual athletes do not belong competing against women.  One could be sent to reeducation camp somewhere in California.  We still believe in ritual impurity.  We call it by other names but we are still attuned to it. 

"Since by man came death, by man came also the resurrection of the dead." We heard this reiterated in the Alleluia verse:  "Our Savior Jesus Christ destroyed death and brought life to light through the Gospel."

He offers that life to all of us through faith, the faith of the woman who had heard about Jesus and was sufficiently daring to mingle with a crowd to whom she could impart her impurity.  She risked being beaten or stoned for touching others—rather like walking into a room without a mask during covid—but took the risk to touch Jesus' clothing so that she might be healed. 

Jesus offers life to us through the faith of the little girl's father who was willing to endure the crowd's ridicule to seek help for his daughter.

Jesus' miracles did not generate faith where there was none.  The miracles were driven by the faith of the petitioners. Jesus offers us the same healing in the sacraments of the Church: He offers healing in the baptism that cleanses us from original sin and begins our journey into full communion with the Church.

He offers healing in the sacrament of confession that removes the stain of the sins we choose to commit.

He offers healing in the sacrament of the Eucharist in which we receive His True Body and Blood.

In light of these great gifts we can only sing with the psalmist:

"Hear O Lord, and have pity on me;

O Lord, be my helper.

You changed my mourning into dancing:

O Lord, my God, forever will I give you thanks."

_________________________________________________

 

Photos are from June 2014.  They were taken on a trip to the French Alps with the Jesuit community from Lyon, France.   It was great not speaking French.  I was able to skip the seminars and wander with the camera.  Absolutely great. 

We went to Villaret, the birthplace of St. Peter Faber, one of the first Jesuits and the first Jesuit priest as he was already ordained when the Society was approved in 1540



The Jesuits community walking in silence toward the chapel built over Faber's birthplace.

The chapel.  It is as tiny as it looks.  I remain outside in the doorway.  Novices were perched on the windowsills.

The view of a meadow.

Taken on 21 June the annual Fête de la Musique.  Two band were in front of the church competing while playing songs alternately.  The only one I remember was 'Under the Sea' which functioned as an ear worm during Mass. 

A cyclist.  One of the few times I successfully panned a figure in action.

The owner was refreshing himself in a nearby fountain.  Love the lines of a bicycle.

Several types of wine on a reflective surface.



Fr. Jack, SJ, MD

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