Homilies

Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
July 9, 2006

Contrary to the wishes of many, the Messiah did not come into the world in a show of power but rather in one of weakness. From his birth in a cold stable to his death on a bloody cross, our Savior acted in a way that is totally counterintuitive to what we would expect from the King of Glory. Even today, Jesus does not appear to be a powerful force in the world. Just as he appeared to be losing the battle while hanging from the Cross, so he appears to be losing today under the appearance of bread and wine. Why is this? Isn’t he Christ the King? Isn’t he all–powerful? Shouldn’t he be fixing things?

The readings for today’s Mass for the Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time give us an important clue to better understand this paradox of an almighty God acting from a position of weakness.

In the first reading, we find that God is enlisting a man to help him with an important task. The chosen people are grievously rebelling, and God is not at all pleased. The very people to whom God has given his special attention are now worshiping false gods and demonic powers. Hence, God sends Ezekiel who is to act as his mouthpiece—warning Israel that they must mend their ways or suffer the consequences.

God and Ezekiel, however, both know that the nation of Israel is “impudent and stubborn” and that they will “refuse to hear for they are a rebellious house.” But this is not the main point. The main point is this: “they shall know that there has been a prophet among them.”

Yes, they shall indeed know because the words which Ezekiel will speak will have the power of God in them. There will be a force to these words unlike any other words which are spoken. And for Israel, this force will resonate in the core of their being.

In earlier times, God chose to combine his message to his chosen ones with a bit of thunder and lightning, but at this point in history, he merely sends a message. Why is this? Simply put, it’s because Israel now knows more than they used to. God is therefore treating them with more respect. He is treating them as adults and not children. He is respecting their fundamental free will. Once God has given them the grace to know what choice he would like them to make, the next move is theirs. They will need to make a decision: to conform to God’s will and become truly free or to choose to remain enslaved to Satan.

In today’s Epistle, we find Saint Paul the Apostle acting from a position of weakness as well. In fact, God ensures that he is made weak by allowing Satan to torment him. Saint Paul begs God to be left in peace, but God tells him that this weakness is a good thing. “Power,” God says to Saint Paul, “is made perfect in weakness.”

Saint Paul’s huge success in converting the nations to Christ had little or nothing to do with Saint Paul and everything to do with the power of the words spoken. When Paul spoke, people converted to Christianity, for it was God (in the speech of Saint Paul) who was touching the soul of each individual.

“My grace,” God says, “is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.” But God’s power is not power as the world understands it (and thirsts for it). It’s not material power. It’s not might makes right. No, God’s power is the power of love. In love, God gently invites us to return to him and live a life of righteousness.

Sadly we don’t necessarily respond to this invitation. We see an horrific example of this in today’s Gospel for the Mass. As Jesus is preaching the truth in the synagogue of his own hometown, his invitation is willfully rejected.

Here are the series of events:

1. Those of the synagogue recognize that what Jesus is saying is true:

Astounded at his teaching they first respond: “Where did this man get all this? What is this wisdom that has been given to him? What deeds of power are being done by his hands!”

2. Then pride immediately kicks in:

Not willing to submit their will to the truth, they conjure up evidence to weaken the authority of Jesus: “Is not this the carpenter… And they took offense.” How could a lowly carpenter presume to tell them what they ought to be doing with their lives?

3. Hence they reject the truth.

Even Jesus is amazed at their disbelief. But before he leaves, he informs them that they are indeed aware that he is a prophet. Others will listen, but those of his own hometown are willfully rejecting his invitation to righteousness.

Even now Jesus is inviting us to choose a life of true righteousness. From his position of weakness—from the little host and the precious blood—he beckons us to join him in living a life of true freedom, conformed to the will of our Father in Heaven.

When all is said and done, Jesus’ way of weakness does indeed turn out to be all–powerful, for it pierces through the lies which the world is seducing us to believe. It pierces through all the defenses that we ourselves have set up. And once it has pierced through to the core of our being, it never stops resonating. It’s always there, reminding us that we won’t be fully human until we truly accept the invitation. This is good news; we know what we need to do to find happiness.

The bad news is, however, we don’t often do what we know we ought to do. We fail to live the truth. Like the listeners in the synagogue, we reject Christ. We reject the Truth, foolishly hoping that we might continue to live the lie.

Need we convincing that we are falling short in receiving Christ? Perhaps a brief comparison of ourselves to others in the reception of the Eucharist will be sufficient. Today is the feast day of Saint Veronica Giuliani (1660-1727). Let’s compare our own experience to hers. Here is what was found in her diary:

While I was about to go to Holy Communion, I seemed to be thrown wide open like a door flung open to welcome a close friend and then shut tight after his entry. So my heart was alone with him—alone with God. It seems impossible to relate all the effects, feelings, leaping delight, and festivity my soul experienced… Love makes the heart leap and dance. Love makes it exult and be festive. Love makes it sing and be silent as it pleases. Love grants it rest and enables it to act. Love possesses it and gives it everything. Love takes it over completely and dwells in it…

How might we come to receive Jesus more like Saint Veronica and less like the hypocrites in the synagogue? First we must face the devil in us and beg for God’s mercy.

A good place to begin would be with the Psalmist in today’s Mass:

To you I lift up my eyes,
O you who are enthroned in the heavens!
As the eyes of servants
look to the hand of their master.
As the eyes of a maid
to the hand of her mistress,
so our eyes look to the Lord our God,
until he has mercy upon us.
Have mercy upon us, O Lord, have mercy upon us,
for we have had more than enough of contempt.
Our soul has had more than its fill of the scorn
of those who are at ease,
of the contempt of the proud.
Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit
As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end.
Amen.

Homilies

Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time July 9, 2006

Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
July 9, 2006