This is my homily for Sunday, the 28th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle A. The readings for Sunday are here. I had recently written that the parables for the past few Sundays can be perilous for a preacher, because of what I view as Matthew's polemical intent toward Jews with whom his community probably was in conflict. I tried to steer well clear of the polemics and attempted instead to "accentuate the positive" to be found in this parable. Here is the text of the homily:
The temperature that night in Chicago was brutally cold, with single-digit or even negative temperatures, the kind of night in which nobody would choose to leave their warm homes if they didn’t have to. Or - unless they were football fans, because the Chicago Bears were playing a night game at home that evening. Even in the extreme temperatures, the Bears fans didn’t desert their team: they sat there in the cold and the wind, bundled up in multiple layers of coats, hats, scarves, gloves, mittens and blankets. I was no dummy: I stayed home and watched the game on television.
During the
telecast, when the camera panned across some of those bundled-up fans in the
stands, John Madden, who was broadcasting the game that evening, and who is
nothing if not a man of the people, praised those fans on national television –
he said something along the lines of, “Look at those Bears fans! I love Chicago fans – those are real football
fans. They’re not going to let the cold
weather stop them from rooting for the Bears.”
Then the camera panned the stadium’s luxury skyboxes. The skyboxes presumably are well heated,
because nobody in the skyboxes had a jacket on. They were dressed for indoors, in their stylish
sweaters and designer jeans and what-not.
And there must have been
television sets in the skyboxes, because when the occupants of the skyboxes
realized that they were being shown on television, many of them waved through
the skybox windows to the camera. And
Madden, bless his heart, boo’d them on national TV. He said, “Booo! Booo!
Those aren’t real fans!” I love that about John Madden.
The fact is,
the world is divided into people who sit in the bleachers and people who have
access to the luxury suites. People who
sit in the bleachers buy their overpriced hot dogs and beer from vendors. People who watch the game from a skybox have
a well-stocked fridge and a sumptuous buffet and help themselves to as much as they
want to eat or drink. Oh, and at some
point during the game, the dessert cart shows up. People in the bleachers get scorched by the sun
and soaked by the rain or frostbitten by the cold. But every skybox
is snug and dry and perfectly temperature controlled. People in the bleachers have to put up with
drunks, loudmouths and all manner of obnoxious strangers around them. People in the skyboxes put up only with people
like themselves: the select and fortunate people who are with them.
We can be
certain that the guests whom the king first invited to his son’s wedding feast
in today’s/tonight’s parable were the skybox types, not the riffraff from the
bleachers or the grandstand. The
invitees would have been those who were likely to be in a king’s social circle:
the courtiers and flatterers and hangers-on; the wealthy and powerful and beautiful and the connected.
So when the
king was snubbed by his so-called friends, and sent his servants out into the
streets and main roads to invite whomever they found, chances are that mostly
they found riffraff. The bleacher types. Regular, poor people with their
normal, poor people lives and problems. And that’s how we should imagine ourselves in
this parable: as the riffraff. We’re the
ones who were invited second to the feast. In those days, kings didn’t consort with the riffraff,
period. The idea that a member of the
riffraff like us would ever get a glimpse inside the king’s palace would have
been unimaginable. That we could actually
be inside the king’s great hall, with a servant coming by to refill our wine
glass, and us welcome to help ourselves to food from the tables that would have
been piled high with the choicest fare – none of us would have had any
conception that we would ever get within a mile of that sort of a scene, any more
than most of us ever will even be allowed onto the staircase that leads to the
luxury suites at Wrigley or Guaranteed Rate Field.
We couldn’t
imagine such a thing – and yet it’s happened.
It’s happened to us. Our king, God, has sent his servants to fetch
us, and has opened the mighty gates of his palace to us, and has rolled out the
welcome mat for us. By rights, our place
is outside the gates, far outside, but he wants us to come in, where he can be
our gracious host and tend to our every need.
And if we are being rational about all this, we should have zero
expectation that this amazing bit of luck is anything that we deserve, or that
we’ve earned, or to which we have a right.
Because it isn’t, and we haven’t, and we don’t. If we’re invited inside the palace, it’s
sheer kindness, sheer generosity, on the part of our King.
In fact, it’s
sheer love on his part. Our King is
good, and he has all these good things, and rather than horde them to himself
like earthly kings do, he wants to share them with us. He wants to share his grace, and his joy, and
his peace with us. He wants to heal all
our wounds and fill us with juicy, rich food and pure, choice wines. He wants to share new life in his Son with us.
By rights,
we should count ourselves lucky indeed to be invited to such a feast. We should fully appreciate what good fortune
has been visited upon us.
But it’s an
interesting thing about human nature that we can’t sustain our attitude of
gratitude for very long. The fact is,
most of us aren’t very good at it, and we reach the point of gratitude
exhaustion after a while. And ingrates
that we are, we begin to take for granted the very great and undeserved gifts
we’ve been given. Sometimes we even
start to complain and become demanding. “Oh
no, not the Chardonnay again! I wanted Sauvignon
Blanc!” “I
think the roasted lamb is a little under-seasoned tonight.” It’s easy to lose sight that, by all that is right,
we shouldn’t be there at all, and we should consider ourselves extremely
fortunate to be able to eat and drink at the king’s board.
Most of us, I
believe, were baptized when we were infants, so early in our lives that we didn’t
understand at the time what was happening to us, and we have no memory now of that great event in our
lives. And while it’s a blessing that
the graces of the sacrament were made available to us so early in our lives, it’s
also a shame, in a way, that we have so little appreciation of the wonderful
gift we’ve been given in baptism.
Because on that day of baptism, everything changed for us, for the
better. On the day of our baptism, the gates
were opened to us, the welcome mat was rolled out, and we were ushered into the
king’s hall. And he has been feeding us
ever since.
Once in a
while, it’s good to be reminded of all this.
Because whatever is good in our lives, is not because of us, it’s
because of God. We’ve been plucked from the grandstand and invited
into the skybox. Once we’ve become accustomed
to skybox living, it’s easy to start to think that we deserve to be in a skybox,
and that it’s normal for everyone to watch the game that way. God knows the truth, though: that what is
normal and just is for us to be out shivering in the subzero temperatures. God has invited us into the skybox – into his
home. Now is as good time as any to
offer thanks for that good fortune.
Jim, good thoughts that we don't "deserve" grace and the heavenly banquet, that it is a free gift of God.
ReplyDeleteI have to admit that these Matthew Gospels aren't my favorite, with their talk of vicious vine-dressers and the landlord's retaliation (last week), and this week the horrible invitees and the king's vengeance. I've been told a time or two that I think too literally, and of course I realize that these are parables. But still I don't like them.
Our priest last night took it a different direction, saying that our enjoyment of a party depends more on who we are with than what the menu is.
The description of the eschatological banquet in the first reading is one of my favorites. It is a good introduction to the wedding feast of the Son, the celebration of God’s marriage with his people.
ReplyDeleteThe invitation to the feast is to everyone.
However those who are well off, farmers and businessmen, are often preoccupied with their own lives and projects. They may be self-sufficient or they may think of themselves as already so blessed by God that they can past up this particular invitation
They may be unappreciative of the people whom God sends to invite them because they are from the lower class rather than the well do.
Some who show up may be so preoccupied with themselves that they do not fully recognize what is going on.
The Responsory “I shall live in the house of the Lord all the days of my life.” highlights the need for constant attentiveness and gratitude to God in good times and bad.
The Epistle urges us to learn to live in both abundance and in humble circumstances. whether we are well fed or hungry. I was reminded of the opening chapter of the first edition of Merton’s Seeds of Contemplation that describes every moment of life, whether hot or cold, sunny or rainy, as a seed from God that can mature into a life of contemplation.
I have always preferred the OT reading from Isaiah for this day:
ReplyDeleteOn this mountain the LORD of hosts
will provide for all peoples
a feast of rich food and choice wines,
juicy, rich food and pure, choice wines.
On this mountain he will destroy
the veil that veils all peoples,
the web that is woven over all nations;
he will destroy death forever.
The Lord GOD will wipe away
the tears from every face;
the reproach of his people he will remove
from the whole earth;
I found it especially meaningful today, as a promise that the insanity at the head of our nation will subside in God's good time, and someday people will understand we are brothers.
Not fond of sports metaphors in sermons, but I like your overall message, Jim. I don't expect to be in Heaven's Skybox, but I will be glad to wave to you from the Cheap Seats, assuming I'm even that lucky.
Jean - yes, I also love that passage.
DeleteIf anyone is interested, here is a contemporary setting of that passage, by Gerard Chiusano, a Catholic composer I've admired for years. This performance is by a parish church choir (possibly Chiusano's own parish choir), so it's the work of amateurs, but it's pretty good. It's also one of those Zoom performances which are starting to proliferate, since church choirs can't actually come together and make music these days.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B6TZjgNxhrw
... and now my eyes are actually tearing up a little bit, because the next item that came up on Youtube for me was this setting, also virtually performed and magnitudes more polished than the "On This Mountain" setting I linked to above, of "How Can I Keep From Singing". Makes me realize how much I miss making music. This pandemic really sucks.
Music seems to mean a lot to some people, and I know those in choirs and music programs miss singing with their friends. I hope you get your hymns back soon and that the sound is all the more joyful for the absence.
DeleteThe bishop popped in, unheralded, to say the noon Mass today, which was live-streamed right into my TV set. His homily was a fairly conventional reading of the Matthew.
ReplyDeleteWhen I saw him I thought maybe he came roaring down Military Trail after hearing about our 8 a.m. Mass. I certainly heard about it. Shortly after 9 my computer went crazy with reports of what the celebrant, one of the parochial vicars, had said. In short, he announced that everybody staying at home out of fear of the coronavirus was rejecting God's invitation to the banquet and acting on fear alone, and that doctors and science wouldn't save us, only Jesus can do that. And the people who weren't there were going to end up in Hell because of their fear. Of course, he was preaching to the choir; the sinners he was shaming were... at home.
So I churchsplained that I had already noticed the priest has a bit of snake-handler in him, and they bury a couple of those every year in eastern Kentucky. I assured folks that his fundamentalist theology was deplorable from a Catholic perspective and his people skills were even worse.
(If I claw my way into heaven it will be because I have used my God-given ability not to take religious idiots seriously to help people who are read to quit to continue to suffer within the loving arms of Mother Church.)
Ugh. The diocese-wide release from the Sunday obligation ended in September, just about the time the outdoor Masses had to be brought inside because it's cold. The release was not renewed.
DeleteNot really sure why the diocese declined to reissue the excuse from the Sunday obligation. Our regional infection rate is up to 5.3 percent--schools are supposed to close if the rate is over 5 percent.
The governor's emergency orders about closures--which never applied to churches--have been ruled unconstitutional by the state Supreme Court. That seems to have precipitated an "it's all over; everybody back to normal!" free-for-all. Hence the notion around here to get your ass back in the pew.
Our priest is encouraging people to go to the weekday Masses if they feel Sundays are too crowded, though how that fulfills the Sunday obligation, I do not know.
The men's club is planning to resume takeout fish frys. Raber says they will have to soldier on without him. He did lector duty at his friend's funeral yesterday. People were masked, and there was no lunch at the church, but the church was crowded. There were considerable numbers of non-Catholics at the Mass, and pews were especially crowded in their section.
In normal times our parish would do an entrance procession from the back with the weekend Masses; 3 or 4 servers carrying candles and a crucifix, followed by 3 EMHCs, 2 lectors, a deacon, and the priest last. Now it is a simple entrance from the sacristy, no servers, just the priest and deacon. One lector for all three readings, and one EMHC on standby sitting in the front pew in case they need to send someone to the overflow area (rarely). We are allowed 75% capacity, I don't know how they figure that. We are still dispensed from the obligation, but most of the time fill the number of seats that are allowed.
DeleteIt used to be, maybe still is, that a person who had to work on Sunday could fulfill their oblation on a weekday with permission of their confessor. Of course I have said before that I feel that adults ought to be able to discern their duty for themselves without being "obliged".
I didn't realize that the obligation was being reimposed, besides in Wisconsin, where re-imposition was followed by a surge that turned Wisconsin into the new Florida. Nothing has been said about anything as dumb as that here. But I told my pastor he wouldn't see me until October, and yesterday (at a funeral) I told him the see-me date is probably in March or April now. I don't care who says differently. Dr. Fauci and I are on the same page.
Delete"Ugh. The diocese-wide release from the Sunday obligation ended in September, just about the time the outdoor Masses had to be brought inside because it's cold. The release was not renewed.
Delete"Not really sure why the diocese declined to reissue the excuse from the Sunday obligation. Our regional infection rate is up to 5.3 percent--schools are supposed to close if the rate is over 5 percent."
I don't claim to understand all the circumstances where you live, but - I don't get that decision, either. The number of cases are increasing in most states, I believe. Here in Illinois, our number of cases is increasing, our positivity rate is increasing, and the number of coronavirus deaths is increasing. Our numbers of ICU beds available and ventilators available also are declining mildly. None of this is catastrophic so far, but we're not moving in the right direction. I am guessing it's a combination of schools being back in session and the weather getting chillier so people congregating less outside.
Churches are under severe financial pressure. Churches around here are furloughing (ours hasn't so far, thank the Lord). I think it would be difficult to say that factor doesn't go into a decision regarding whether or not to loosen the restrictions. Bishops and pastors have some loyalty to their employees, and rightly so. But they need to balance the continued employment of their employees against the well-being of the people they serve.
And if any of this is financially driven, I'm a little skeptical that reinstating the obligation is going to fix the finances. People were staying away in droves for many years prior to the pandemic. Catholics' rate of mass attendance was no better, and in some cases worse, than Evangelicals and Protestants. Now, because of the pandemic, people of all faiths have fallen out of the habit of going to church on Sunday. I don't believe the old habits are going to snap back into place because of a church leader's decree.
I am disgusted that Good/Bad Catholic lines are being drawn in the middle of a public health crisis. I'm already beyond the pale, but these things bother Raber, who is yanked one way by the pressure he feels to be a Good Catholic and the other way by his wife who is panicky about second hand exposure. It's a drag to have to renegotiate Mass and other parish activities every damn week.
DeleteBTW, I don't don't think "wailing and grinding of teeth" is any kind of substitute for the immortal "weeping and gnashing of teeth."
ReplyDeleteTom, I agree. "Weeping and gnashing of teeth" is in the King James Version - the translation which is the source for most of the biblical allusions which have passed into wider English usage.
DeleteRecently I had a reason to look at 2 Timothy 4:2, I don't remember why. The Revised Standard Version, the lineal descendant of the King James Version, renders the first part of that verse, "preach the word; be urgent in season and out of season". That phrase "in season and out of season", also found in the King James Version, is another of those memorable phrases which has a certain currency beyond religious circles. But the Revised New American Bible we American Catholics use renders that passage, "proclaim the word; be persistent whether it is convenient or inconvenient". From the point of view of poetry - a phrase that strikes the ear and sticks in the mind - "convenient or inconvenient" is simply not as good as "in season and out of season". I'd also argue that the two alternatives don't mean the same thing; the mandate to preach "out of season", as I understand it, means to preach the truth even when it is likely to fall on unreceptive ears - onto rocky soil. "Inconvenient" on the other hand, seems to refer to the preacher's personal schedule, regardless of the receptivity or lack thereof of the listeners. But here we start to get into questions of translation; it may be that "convenient or inconvenient" is a more accurate translation, even if worse as English prose.
The King James usage is similar to the Douay Rheims, and the Confraternity version (which was derived from the Douay Rheims). This was in use prior to VII, so I remember some of it. The Gospel was read in Latin, then in English, at the Sunday Masses. Some of the language does flow better in the older version. My favorite Bible for personal reading is still my St. Joseph's student version that I was given in 7th grade, it is the Confraternity version.
DeleteI have mentioned before that my mom grew up Baptist. When she joined the Catholics she didn't lose her "mom sayings" from the KJV, which were also "grandma sayings" that she got from her mom. Such as; "...sit not in the seat of the scornful", to kids being sarcastic. Or "Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof", advice to worry-worts. Or, "Do you well to be angry?", to kids in a pout over trivial stuff.
DeleteKatherine I love those little nuggets. One of my idiosyncratic, out-of-step-with-reality views is that the Catholic Church leadership in the US would be well-advised to simply cooperate with Anglicans and utilize some flavor of the Standard Version, i.e. the modernized KJV, rather than reinvent the wheel; not entirely sure our reinvention is an improvement.
DeleteMy mother used to say "sufficient unto the day" when she poured her first drink.
Delete