Homily for 4th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Homily for the
4th Sunday
in Ordinary Time
On Jan. 30 I celebrated the Eucharist and preached at an assisted living home without a written text. In order to post something here, once again I resort to a 24-year-old homily based mostly on 1 Corinthians.

Feb. 1, 1987
1 Cor 1: 26-31
Matt 5: 1-12
Holy Cross, Fairfield, Conn.

“God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong” (1 Cor 1:27).

When you studied the American Revolution in school, you probably had to make some kind of list called the advantages and disadvantages of each side—all the reasons why the British Empire should have whipped those upstart, ungrateful, silly Americans; all the reasons why those few, brave, and determined Americans hoped they might be able to defeat the mightiest nation on earth.

We all know that the underdog Americans pulled a surprise upset—much more dramatic and stunning than anything the Mets did last October—and they beat the British.

The last battle of the Revolutionary War was the siege of Yorktown, where Washington and his combined American and French army and the French navy trapped the best British army in America. As the British marched out to surrender, they had a choice of what music their band would play. They chose a little tune called “The World Turned Upside Down.”

Indeed, the British world had been turned upside down. The British professional army and navy had been beaten by a bunch of farmers. The King of Great Britain and his nobility—the sorts of people to whom St. Paul alludes when he speaks of the “influential,” the “well-born,” “those who were something” (1 Cor 1:26,28)—king and nobles had been undone by a pack of lawyers, merchants, and craftsmen.

History, sports, and ordinary life are full of conflicts, contests, and contrasts. They are full of examples of the unexpected, of the underdog becoming top dog, of worlds being turned upside down.

God’s relationship with mankind turns worlds upside down. St. Paul and Jesus both proclaim to us that the world we live in, the world we know, the world we accept, is upside down, is false, deceptive, unreal.

God has made Christ Jesus our wisdom, our justice, our holiness, our redemption, Paul says (1 Cor 1:30). Think of it! A man born in a stable, a man who never went to school, a working man in a conquered country, a man whose best friends were fishermen, farmers, and prostitutes, a man who died as a common criminal, a religious and political outlaw—this man is our wisdom, our justice, our holiness, our redemption! That’s what St. Paul is reminding us of. Ridiculous! But true.

Or listen to Jesus: “Blessed—happy—are those who hunger and thirst for holiness, for they shall be satisfied. Blessed are those who are persecuted for holiness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Matt 5:6,10).

If you’ve ever been hungry, you know it’s no blessing. You know that thirst doesn’t make you happy. You know that persecution is outrageous, insufferable, frustrating. Why, then, does Jesus speak of a blessing? For the sake of holiness, of justice, of seeking God’s will, of being made holy by God’s grace.

Wait a minute! I should be tormented and persecuted and stomped down and reviled because I believe in Jesus, because I want whatever God wants? And that’s a blessing? That’ll make me happy? Ridiculous! But true.

St. Paul and Jesus are contrasting their attitudes to the world’s. They’re turning our world upside down. But think for a minute. Think of the values of the world, and think of what they mean.

Men of power and influence bring us insider trading and the Commission and the Iran-contra thing.

Athletes making hundreds of thousands of dollars a year are busted for drug abuse, sexual assault, and assaulting police officers.

Hollywood superstars divorce and remarry more often than you can get a straight answer out of a politician.

The wealthiest nation in the world faces crises in education, housing, agriculture, and industry, and it kills 1½ million babies every year.

Our lust for national security threatens to destroy us all in firestorm and radiation.

We shouldn’t be shocked, then, when Jesus tells us that the poor in spirit—that little phrase “in spirit” is crucial”—the meek, the peacemakers are happy. They’ve set their hearts on God, on eternity, on values that don’t corrupt us. To feel the torment of a crazy world’s opinion of Christian values isn’t a blessing—of course not. But to have true values, ideals, and goals is a blessing. Thus blessed, we can handle the world’s opinion and even its mockery and persecution. Our supposed weakness and foolishness shame the wise and powerful of the world because Christ Jesus does satisfy, does fill us. He does bring peace and contentment that weapons, money, and power do not and cannot bring.

For it’s not power or wealth or glamor or megatons that win the souls of mankind. It’s those values that Jesus teaches: mercy, peace, gentleness. Jesus lives these virtues, and we’re attracted to him. He tells us that God forgives our sins, and he forgives—forgives not just all of us in general, but his own executioners, Peter who denied him, Judas whom he called “friend” to the last. Jesus welcomes ordinary people and children, hurting people and frightened people. He’s at home with them, he loves them, and he wins their hearts. This is the weakness that shames the powerful, the foolishness that shames the wise, the lowliness that shames the noble.

God has forgiven our sins, has made himself weak, has come down to us. He has given us his own holiness. “Let him who would boast, boast in the Lord” (1 Cor 1:31). If men of power and worldly wisdom don’t like us and our values, that doesn’t destroy our inner peace, doesn’t take away God’s love. We shall be satisfied only when our sole hunger is for the holiness of God.

May God bless you and fill you.