Homily
for the
22d
Sunday of Ordinary Time
I'm on vacation, and the local pastor in Columbia, Md., didn't call upon me for assistance. Here's a really old homily.
September
3, 1989
Luke
14: 1, 7-14
Holy
Cross, Fairfield, Conn.
Many
of us read Ann Landers, Abby, and best of all, Miss Manners in the
newspapers. So many fascinating
questions about proper etiquette, especially at weddings! A surface reading of Luke 14 might give the
impression that Jesus is playing Miss Manners.
It’s hardly true; try to imagine her writing: “Gentle reader, when you have a reception,
invite beggars and the crippled, the lame and the blind . . . and you will be
repaid in the resurrection of the just” (Luke 7:13-14).
Luke 14 isn’t about etiquette but about something even more important, the kingdom of God, the banquet of eternal life.
There
is, nonetheless, a certain practicality to Jesus’ advice about welcoming
beggars and the handicapped: not
practical in the sense that we should literally go down to skid row and find
them before our next wedding reception or birthday party, but practical in the
sense that Jesus is commanding us to practice love of neighbor.
As
you know, the Church has in recent years been speaking more and more about
social issues such as the arms race, world hunger, the economy, capital
punishment, the minimum wage. The Church
does more than talk about such issues.
Our concern for human society is rooted in the teaching and example of
Jesus; it’s rooted in the dignity of every human being, created in the image
and likeness of God. Throughout the
history of the Church, we find Christians performing the corporal works of
mercy: feeding the hungry, clothing the
naked, sheltering the homeless, schooling the ignorant, tending the sick,
mediating quarrels. We still do those
things through refugee assistance, famine relief, orphanages, leprosariums and
AIDS hospices, shelters for the homeless and for runaways, health clinics, soup
kitchens, low-income housing and nursing homes, schools of every kind; we do
these things here in the United States and especially in the Third World, where
there’s more poverty and misery than most of us can possibly imagine.
Jesus
isn’t actually telling us to open our family meals to the folks we meet at the
bus station. But he is telling us to
open our hearts and our wallets to the poor, the handicapped, the refugee, the
immigrant – through the public policies that we advocate, through Church
agencies, perhaps through our volunteer time.
In
all of us there’s a tendency to blame beggars and the handicapped, the homeless
and the jobless for their problems, a tendency to tell them they should work
just like we do if they want to make it.
But
what Jesus is saying here is something of a parable, a parable of the
kingdom. His Father is giving a
reception, the banquet of eternal life, and he’s invited “beggars and the
crippled, the lame and the blind” who can’t repay him. He’s invited us – us undeserving
sinners. Our sins, obviously, are of our
own making. Imagine if God told us,
“Heal yourself, and then you’ll be worthy of being my child, of entering my
home, and of dining with me.”
Fortunately
for us, he’s a God of grace, a God who forgives and heals, a God who takes the
first step toward us, a God who loves us so much that he gave us his only Son
to be our friend, our guide, and our Savior, without waiting for us to deserve
it.
Jesus
asks us to try to love one another as he has loved us.
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