A 20 Sun 14 (Mt. 15:21-28)

A 20 Sun 14  (Mt. 15:21-28)

            The story in today’s gospel is about faith and trust in God’s mercy.  The woman in the story is at her wits end.  She has no further means to help her afflicted daughter.  She is in desperate need of divine assistance and courageously begs Jesus for mercy. 

            She is not at all put off by the disciples who would have Jesus make her go away.  Instead, she approaches Jesus with gritty faith and complete trust that he is the one who can and will heal her daughter.  The story ends on a positive note because Jesus fulfills the Canaanite woman’s request.  He does so, however, only after she unravels a dilemma for him.

            Jesus presents the woman with a dilemma when he in effect says to her, what can I do?  My hands are tied.  My ministry is to the lost sheep of Israel.  Fulfilling your request would be like giving the bread of children to dogs under the table.

            And, then he waits.   Jesus does not dismiss the woman, nor does say that he will not fulfill her request.  Rather, he engages her in conversation, and invites her to respond to his dilemma.  Jesus waits for her response, because how she responds will be a measure of her faith. 

            This requirement that Jesus levies on the Canaanite woman is a very different approach than Jesus had taken earlier with the Centurion.  Earlier, the Centurion had asked Jesus to heal his servant—not his daughter, but a mere servant (Mt. 8:5-13).  And like the Canaanite woman, the Centurion also did not belong to the house of Israel.  And yet, when the Centurion asks Jesus to heal his servant, Jesus responds without hesitation, and heals the servant immediately.  Jesus imposes no conditions on the centurion’s request.  But when the Canaanite woman makes her request, Jesus hesitates.  He does not heal her daughter without first asking her to solve his dilemma.

            Such a difference violates an ordinary sense of fairness.  Even so, it seems compatible with what St. Paul says in his letter to the Romans about receiving the mercy of God.  In that letter, Paul reminds us of what God said to Moses: “I will show mercy to whom I will; I will take pity on whom I will.”  From this, Paul concludes that God’s mercy does not depend upon a person's will or exertion, but upon God’s own judgment (Rm. 9:15-16). 

            What then motivates God to show mercy?  Should we say that the woman gets the mercy she wants because she has pluck?  Mercy on those terms could be understood as a reward that one bargains for with courage and determination.  The disciples who were traveling with Jesus at the time displayed this level of understanding.  They asked Jesus to heal the woman so that she would go away and stop bothering them.  They wanted to rid themselves of an irritation through the magic of God’s mercy.  Perhaps a more timid and less determined soul would have come away empty handed. 

            But, Jesus would have none of this reasoning.  Jesus develops a deeper understanding of God’s mercy.  He reminds the disciples that his mission is to the lost sheep of Israel.  This reference indicates that neither his mission nor God’s mercy are subject to whimsy and control.  God’s mercy is not a bargaining chip for the shrewd.  Something much more profound is at stake, namely, the relationship between God and his people.  Jesus aims to show that belonging to the house of Israel is not a birthright.  Rather, it is a matter of faith and trust.  Thus, the mercy of God is likewise a matter of faith as well as trust in the love of God.  

            This is exactly the point that Jesus develops by deliberately engaging the Canaanite woman in conversation.  Despite what some have claimed, Jesus does not use the occasion to call this Gentile woman a dog.  Rather, he takes this opportunity to demonstrate for the disciples that faith and trust are central to God’s mercy.  This is why Jesus presents the woman with a riddle to resolve. 

            And, resolve it she does.  Her response that even dogs eat the crumbs that fall from the table reveals a profound understanding of God’s mercy.  Through her own faith and trust in God, she reveals that love is the true impetus behind the mercy of God.  In other words, you feed dogs because you love them. We cast our cares upon God because God loves us and he generously responds to our faith and trust (1 Pt. 5:7).

             Her response virtually overwhelms Jesus.  He acknowledges her faith with emotion:  “O woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.”  Jesus endorses the way she unravels the dilemma because it demonstrates that the mercy of God stems from a living communion with the God of love (Dulles).  This is what prompts the Psalmist to declare, “As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on the faithful” (Ps. 103:13).

            We can trust God’s compassion and mercy, even though we know that God does not always answer our prayers in the way we want or as fast as we want.  Yet, we can be sure that when we ask, we shall receive.  That is the nature of faith.  We can also be sure that whatever we receive will be for our good.  That is the nature of love. 

Corpus Christi

John 6:51-58

Hunger and thirst are powerful forces.  Either one alone can shape our journey or impede it.  Either one alone can mean the difference between life and death.  This is true on a physical level as much as a spiritual level.  The readings for today contain some rather astonishing claims that speak to a profound spiritual hunger and thirst that we all have.  Moses claims that we need God's word as much as we need food to live.  Paul claims that we are literally bound together as one body when we partake of the one loaf.  Jesus claims that his body and blood are true food and true drink and the very source of eternal life.

Indeed, the gospel readings for the past several weeks show that Jesus recognizes and speaks to our spiritual hunger, and that he longs to nourish our spiritual needs. To demonstrate this point, Jesus often uses dramatic language in revealing the purpose of his life and mission.  He once described himself as the light of the world (Jn 8:12).  Another time, he described himself as the way, the truth and the life (Jn14:6).  Yet another time, Jesus referred to himself as the true vine and his followers as the true branches (Jn 15:1-5).  Those who heard such talk did not think Jesus was speaking literally.  They understood and accepted his language as nothing more than analogy, a comparison, for the sake of revelation.  

When Jesus referred to himself as the bread of life come down from heaven, however, many had a very different response.  In fact, many went away in disbelief when Jesus claimed that, “unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him on the last day” (Jn 6:53-55). Many disciples also found this teaching too difficult, and they “returned to their former way of life and no longer accompanied him” (Jn 6:66).

This is a puzzling response from the very disciples who were also witness to some astonishing miracles by Jesus—feeding the multitude with a few loaves of bread and some fish, raising the dead, driving out demons, curing the lame and disabled.  Thus the difficulty these disciples had with the bread of life teaching was NOT because they misunderstood Jesus’ ability to make good on his claim.  Rather, the disciples had difficulty because they knew that Jesus was no longer speaking allegorically.  They knew he was speaking in a literal sense.  From their perspective, Jesus had crossed the line.

Jesus crossed the line with the promise of eternal life to those who ate his flesh and drank his blood.  Some of the disciples objected to this promise because, in their view, only God is the source of life.  Thus, for Jesus to claim that he too could give eternal life through his own body and blood was tantamount to claiming that he was God.  And that claim, as far as some of the disciples were concerned, was blasphemy. This perceived blasphemy is why many of the disciples objected to his promise and abandoned Jesus.

The Twelve, however, that small band of loyal followers, remained with Jesus.  They remained because they believed that Jesus was the “Holy One of God” (Jn 6:69; cf. Mt 16:21, Mk 8:29, Lk 9:20).  When Jesus asks the Twelve whether they too want to leave, Peter’s response demonstrates the basis of their loyalty: “Master, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life” (Jn 6:67-68). This response gives no indication, however, that the Twelve found the “bread of life” teaching any less radical than those who left.

 

The picture that emerges at the Last Supper, however, is quite different.  When the disciples gather with Jesus for the last time in the Upper Room and hear him declare that the bread and wine are his body and blood, they express no doubt or astonishment over his words and actions.  Nor is there any suggestion that any of them abandoned Jesus at this time.  In fact, Scripture suggests that the only concern of the disciples at this time was the fear of being accused as the betrayer of Jesus.

 

The contrast between the first and last reactions of the disciples to the bread of life teaching reflects a gradual, yet remarkable, transformation in perception and belief.    Their transformation suggests that perceiving Jesus in the Eucharist, as well as perceiving Jesus in others, is a gradual consequence of spiritual nourishment that takes place over time.

The lesson for us is clear.  When Jesus said, “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me will never hunger, and whoever believes in me will never thirst” (Jn6:35), he in fact claims that he can nourish our spirits, that he can give life to our souls.  He claims that he is enough for all.

The difficulty for many today is that we doubt this possibility.  We do not know how to find genuine nourishment.  We look for it in the wrong places.  We spend our spiritual coin for what is not bread; our wages for what fails to satisfy.  Many of us live in spiritual poverty.  We have nothing to eat or drink.  We are not satisfied.

Yet, the Lord Jesus calls us out of our poverty.  He invites all of us to come to his banquet.  All we have to do is bring our hunger and our thirst to him and do as he says.  When we bring what we have to Christ—our needs and ourselves—and unite them to him, Christ becomes the foundation of our lives and he changes us.

 

Our relationship with Jesus then motivates us to imitate what he says and how he acts.  When we put on the mind of Christ, as St. Paul instructs us, we find reason and desire to share our gifts with others in a spirit of love.  We find reason to live the truth in love.  When we take Jesus into our hearts through word and sacrament, we become what he is, and our eternal life begins here and now.

Faith as Trust and Reason

A 5 Easter 14 (Jn 14:1-12)

            In a conversation about faith that Jesus has with his disciples, Jesus talks about faith in terms of both trust and reason.  Jesus makes the point that trust and reason both function as grounds for having faith in him. To demonstrate this point, Jesus first focuses on faith as a matter of trust. 

            Jesus begins with a twofold appeal to the disciples: “Do not let your hearts be troubled. You have faith in God; have faith also in me.”  In appealing first to the hearts of the disciples, Jesus shows that faith is primarily a matter of trust, that is, a matter for the heart rather than the head.  We can take to heart the word of Jesus.  We can rely on him, we can trust him, and therefore, we can have faith in him.

            Jesus does not ask for trust on false pretenses.  For, he makes it clear that he has no intention of abandoning his followers and leaving them to their own devices.  Rather, he goes ahead of them to prepare a place for them, and they know how to follow him.  Such consequences show the disciples that Jesus has their best interests at heart.  This is the nature of trust. 

            We trust someone because our hearts tell us that he or she has our backs.  Whether we have evidence for such trust may not matter all that much.  What seems to matter most is that we are confident that the person knows us, knows what is important to us, and will always act in ways that serve and protect our interests.  The critical aspect of trust is therefore confidence in the person we trust.  Thus, the initial appeal that Jesus makes to his disciples puts faith in him on par with trust in him, and trust is primarily a matter of the heart.

            By explaining faith first in terms of trust, Jesus in effect appeals to an ancient understanding of faith in God.  For the ancient Hebrews, faith in God was a two way street.  God wanted and eagerly sought out a relationship with his people.  They responded and entered that relationship by placing their trust in God.  Faith in God for the ancient Hebrews was an active relationship with God built on a lively belief and trust that He would make good on his promises; that God would indeed do as he said he would.  For this reason, their lives centered on their faith, and their faith shaped the way they lived.  For the ancient Hebrews, faith was a matter of trusting God.        

            But, the disciples Thomas and Phillip are less than convinced. They apparently need more than trust alone as the basis of their faith.  Thomas is the first to express such reservation by admitting no knowledge of where Jesus is going or how to get there. Philip displays a similar need for proof in asking to see the Father as reason enough for faith in Jesus.  These two disciples do not mistrust Jesus.  They simply express a very human need for having good reason when it comes to trust.  And, rather than taking offense, Jesus obliges.  He gives the disciples good reason for trusting him. 

            To show good reason for faith in him, Jesus relies on the second part of his twofold appeal: “You have faith in God; have faith also in me.”  This second part suggests a close union between Jesus and God, his father.  Jesus appeals to the close union between Father and Son as sufficient reason for having faith in him.  In other words, because of this close union, faith in God is the same thing as faith in Jesus.  We need no other proof.  This is the sense in which Jesus claims that faith in him is a matter of reason.

            But, Jesus goes a step further.  Jesus in effect says to the disciples, if you do not believe in me based on my word alone as a matter of trust, if you want proof, then, at least have faith in me because of the works that I do.  See what I have done out of love for you, for others, and for God.  Love proves itself in deeds.  These deeds are reason enough to have faith in Jesus.  Indeed, Jesus claims that “whoever believes in me, will do the works that I do, and will do greater ones than these, because I am going to the Father.”      

            Some of us may be able to trust with our hearts, and some of us are like Thomas and Philip, and trust with our reason.  Jesus understands this and acknowledges that there is more than one way to the Father.  The challenge for all of us, no matter how we arrive at our faith, is what to do with our faith.  In a sense, we are like the ancient Hebrews.  We too see faith as an active relationship with God, but we can be unsure of what that means. 

            The expected result is to live in imitation of Jesus.  His deeds grew out of his love for God and showed his love and care for others, all of whom he viewed as the beloved children of God.  For this reason, Jesus calls us to do the same by loving God with our whole hearts and minds and our neighbors as ourselves.  The encounter between Jesus and his disciples shows that our calling to love is primarily a matter of striving to do our best and trusting God.  Faith really demands no more.        

Living A Holy Life (1 Thes 2:9-13)

Paul’s first letter to the Thessalonians has an interesting and unique characteristic. Every chapter in that first letter ends with some reference to the return of Christ. Paul makes this reference so often to emphasize the need and the possibility for living a holy life.

We often think of holiness in terms of being set apart and dedicated to the service of the Lord. A passage found in Isaiah, however, puts a different light on that understanding: “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts” (6:3). In light of this passage, it would be odd to say that God is set apart in service to himself. In fact, all of Scripture indicates that "holy" is a term that applies to God, to Jesus, to the saints of old, to ordinary persons, and even to God’s creation. That raises a question as to what there is about holiness that can be applied to these different ideas.  In particular, how can we speak of God’s holiness and our own in the same sense?

Such a possibility is not as difficult as it may seem, for God invites us to be holy because he is holy (Lv 11:44, 1 Pt 1:16). Jesus himself said that we should be perfect as our Heavenly Father is perfect (Mt 5:48). Thus, the perfection of God is like the holiness of God.

To say that God is perfect is to say that God is always true to himself. That is, God is always and never anything but God, and all that God does is always and completely consistent with who God is. I AM who I AM, God tells Moses (Ex 3:14). God always tells the truth, always loves, always does good, always creates beauty, always hopes for the best for us, is always joyful and faithful because God is love, God is truth, God is beauty, God is unity, God is good, God is perfect. In human terms, we might say that God is a person of integrity

The same can be said about Jesus. Jesus came to do the father’s will and never deviated from that purpose. He was perfect in his resolve to carry out the Father's will. He prayed to know the Father’s will and he applied his understanding of that will in his life to the best of his ability, even to the point of dying on a cross. Jesus was always true to himself, true to the living God, and true to what God called him to be. In human terms, we would say that Jesus was a person of integrity.   In other words, Jesus lived a holy life.

For this reason, Jesus is our model for what it means to be holy.   Being holy means being true to ourselves as God has fashioned us to be, and true to the living God. This is how the saints of old lived their lives. They listened to and responded to the Word of God. They applied their understanding in their lives as best they could. They allowed the Word of God to transform and motivate how they lived their lives. In a myriad of ways, the saints show us that a holy life is one that expresses God’s love for others and for creation. Like Jesus, they are people of integrity.

This is just what Paul had in mind when he wrote to the Thessalonians.  This same theme is found throughout his letters: “Do not conform yourselves to this age, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and pleasing and perfect” (Rom 12:2). In other words, find out what God wants and do it. Being holy is being and doing what God wants us to be and do. This is what it means to speak of the holiness of God, of Jesus, of the saints, of creation, and of our own holiness. Being true to ourselves and true to God by imitating Jesus in all things is what it means to live a holy life.