Homilies
Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
August 13, 2006
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What’s the Meaning?
Today’s readings for the Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time exhort us to live a life of adventure, nourished by the Bread of Life.
In the first reading, we come across the prophet Elijah who is fleeing for his life. He’s running from the wicked Queen Jezebel who has just vowed to have him executed. She is rather upset about the fact that Elijah has just killed her 150 so–called prophets. Well, he didn’t just kill them. He first made complete fools of them and their gods, and then, with the support of the mob, he single–handedly executed each evil prophet in the name of the true God.
But after such excellent work Elijah gets cold feet and runs from the wicked queen. Deep in the wilderness, exhausted, and praying that he might die, he passes out under a tree.
But God is not about to bring Elijah’s adventure to an end. Instead of letting him die, God sends an angel to nourish Elijah back to health. “Get up and eat,” says the angel, “otherwise the journey will be too much for you.”
Now the food from heaven given to Elijah is packed with nourishment. Thus, with the one meal alone he is able to journey for 40 days straight to Mount Sinai for his special meeting with God.
In the Gospel today, we learn about a food from heaven by which all of us can now be nourished. Jesus says that he is the new bread of life that has come down from heaven. And, making an allusion to the heavenly food given to Moses and Elijah, Jesus says those who eat of this new bread will not die but live forever. Then, almost incredibly, he adds: “The bread that I will give for the world is my flesh.”
It’s almost no wonder that the Jews were murmuring about Jesus. Who can believe that we are to eat his flesh?!
But Jesus commands: “Do not murmur.” You murmur because you have not “heard from the Father and learned.” You have rejected the truth, and thus you are not experiencing eternal life.
Those who hold to the truth and seek their nourishment from the new bread will not die but will continue to be “drawn by the Father” in their journey to Jesus.
The Epistle for today gives us a sort of litmus test to know if we ourselves are being “drawn by the Father.” “Live in love,” says Saint Paul in the Epistle. Make your journey an imitation of Christ. Love as he loved. Make your life a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.
To live in love, Saint Paul says, we must throw off our old evil nature and our former way of life, which is rotten through and through, full of lust and deception. (Eph. 4:22)
We must put away all bitterness and anger and slander. We must not murmur, like the Jews were murmuring.
Instead, we must be kind to one another. We must be tender–hearted. We must forgive one another—just as God, in Christ, has forgiven us.
What’s the Message?
At first glance, the message of today’s readings is simple. It is an instruction on the Eucharist. Just as God fed the Jews during the Exodus with manna from heaven, he now feeds us with the Eucharist. The Eucharist is the Bread of Life.
But within this message, there is a deeper message about the journey itself. It goes something like this: if you don’t find yourself in need of the nourishing Bread, you’re not on a real journey. You’re going nowhere. You’re living a life similar to the murmuring Jews who have opted for the stagnant and predictable life of complaining and killing rather than the adventure of loving and creating.
Their noble forefathers of the Exodus chose adventure. They went on a true journey through the desert and therefore found themselves totally dependent on the bread from heaven in order to make it through each day.
But the murmuring Jews opt for something else: a stagnant life of inaction. They choose bitterness over love. So–called security and predictability over making themselves vulnerable to all the unpredictable consequences of love.
Here Jesus is, standing before them, offering them a life of adventure, inviting them to throw off their old evil nature and take on the exciting and unpredictable life of kindness, tenderness, and forgiveness. Further, he is offering them the exact sort of nourishment they will need for such a journey: himself.
While the invitation of Jesus is rejected here, others accept it.
Take Saint Francis, for example. One day after hearing the invitation in a sermon, he decides to give away all he owns—even the very clothes he is wearing—and imitate Jesus’ way of love. From this day forward, the life of Francis is one long and intense adventure story, of which people still sing.
This is one of the common things we find in the lives of the saints: adventure. Be it Saint Francis, the Jesuit missionaries, or the cloistered monks, their lives are always packed with adventure.
Another thing the saints have in common is their love of the Eucharist. Each is happy to admit his dependency on the Eucharist. It is their daily sustenance. They depend on this miraculous food to keep going. They hear the angel speaking to them as well: “Get up and eat, otherwise the journey will be too much for you.”
We need to ask ourselves if we have this kind of dependence on the Eucharist. If not, perhaps we are not living an adventure of love. Perhaps we have chosen the apparently safe and static position of the murmuring Jews.
If we do not have a hunger for the Eucharist, it is almost sure that we’re not on a real adventure. At best, we are coasting. At worst, we are in stagnant water, “rotting through and through.”
Another sure sign of rejecting the adventurous impulses of the Holy Spirit is murmuring. The command of Jesus applies to us as well: “Do not murmur.”
Saint Paul tells us to put away all bitterness, anger, and slander, but do we persist? We know in our hearts if we are prone to murmur. If so, we must change. Even if it means making ourselves vulnerable, we must change. Jesus demands that we change. We must be kind to one another. We must be tender–hearted. We must forgive one another—just as God, in Christ, has forgiven us.
What’s the Response?
The first response is to today’s readings is a serious examination of conscience, remembering the truth of the Psalm: “O Lord, you have searched me and known me. You know when I sit and when I stand, you discern my very thoughts.” (Ps. 139:2) (How foolish we act sometimes, thinking that not even God is aware of our evil motives.)
Next, together with committing to receive the sacrament of Confession and Eucharist more often, we can commit to not complain or murmur for a week straight. If we find ourselves being bitter, or angry, or slanderous, we can punish ourselves in someway, perhaps no hot shower. Cold water to remind us of our cold heart.
Positively, we can commit to singing praises to God. And we can start with the Psalmist in today’s Mass:
I will bless the Lord at all times;
his praise shall continually be in my mouth.
My soul makes its boast in the Lord;
let the humble hear and be glad.
O magnify the Lord with me,
and let us exalt his name together.
I sought the Lord, and he answered me,
and delivered me from all my fears.
O taste and see that the Lord is good;
happy the man who takes refuge in him.
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.
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Contribution by Brother Anthony Myers
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