Homily for 6th Sunday of Ordinary Time

Homily for the
6th Sunday of Ordinary Time

Feb. 14, 2021
1 Cor 10: 31—11: 1
Blessed Sacrament, New Rochelle, N.Y.

“Do everything for the glory of God” (1 Cor 10: 31).

Many years ago, the Baltimore Catechism taught those of us of a certain age that God made us to know, love, and serve him in this world and to be happy with him forever in the next world.  “To know, love, and serve him” is to “do everything for the glory of God.”  Verbally, that simplifies things, doesn’t it?

The saints said the same.  St. Irenaeus wrote that the glory of God is a human being fully alive, i.e., alive in Christ.  St. Ignatius of Loyola’s motto was “Ad maiorem Dei gloriam” (For the greater glory of God), which the Jesuits retain.  St. John Bosco concluded many a letter with “for the glory of God and the salvation of souls.”  The salvation of souls—of whole persons, we’d say today in theological terms—is God’s glory.

Simple, but not so easy in our everyday lives.  In St. Paul’s context, for example, the discussion was about the morality of eating meat or drinking wine that had been offered as a sacrifice in a pagan temple, to Athena, for example, and then sold in one of the public markets or used at some gathering of friends.  Did that meat or wine become unclean and unfit for Christian consumption?

St. Paul’s answer is multi-layered.  1st, he states that there’s only one God, and all Christians know and worship him.  Therefore the so-called gods of the Greeks are not gods; in fact, they’re nothing.  Whatever’s offered to them is offered to nothing.  There’s nothing sacred—or tainted—about that meat or wine (8:4-6).

2d, he asserts, therefore, that Christians may freely eat and drink what they buy in the public markets or some host sets before them (10:25), provided only that they give glory to God for it.  All of creation belongs to him (10:26).  Grace before meals!

3d, he goes on:  “Avoid giving offense” (10:32).  I.e., if someone’s conscience is more tender than yours, don’t offend him by eating that meat or drinking that wine.  Freely choose to abstain from it as an act of charity toward your more sensitive brother (10:28-29; cf. 8:7-12).

So Paul draws the conclusion that he “tries to please everyone in every way” (10:33), meaning his Christian brothers and sisters.  He respects their sensitivities regarding food associated with the temples.  He’s afraid that if he doesn’t do so, they may transgress their own consciences by eating what they believe they shouldn’t, because Paul does it.  By way of comparison, those like me who are beyond the age of mandatory fasting should be careful around younger Catholics lest we lead them to violate the principle of Lenten fasting (on one of the 2 days when it is mandated).

Paul winds up this section of the letter with a startling directive:  “Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ” (11:1).  That’s rather bold!  Who of us would dare to proclaim, “Be like me because I’m so virtuous”?

Paul’s statement is quite different that of Prof. Henry Higgins in My Fair Lady following the unexplained disappearance of his protegée Eliza Doolittle.  During a dialog with his friend Col. Pickering, he exclaims:

Pickering, why can’t a woman be more like a man?

Men are so honest, so thoroughly square;

Eternally noble, historically fair; ...

Why can’t a woman be like that?

Why does ev’ryone do what the others do?

Can’t a woman learn to use her head?

Why do they do everything their mothers do?

Why don’t they grow up like their fathers instead?

Why can’t a woman take after a man? . . . .

As the dialog about the 2 men’s friendship continues, Higgins asks, “Why can’t a woman be like us?”  Then he turns to his housekeeper and asks her,

. . . .

Why can’t a woman be more like a man?

If I were a woman who’d been to a ball,

Been hailed as a princess by one and by all;

Would I start weeping like a bathtub overflowing?

And carry on as if my home were in a tree?

Would I run off and never tell me where I’m going?

Why can’t a woman be like me?[1]

Prof. Higgins’s idea of a model has progressed, if you’d call it that, from men in general, to fathers, to himself and Pickering as buddies, finally to just himself.

Why is St. Paul worthier of imitation than Henry Higgins?  Aside from the professor’s egotism, of course, we know that Paul—despite his faults—was sincerely trying to imitate Christ and gave Christ credit for having rescued him from his sins.  The debate about sacrificial meat induces him to forgo meat entirely (8:13)—an act of self-denial, of Christ-like self-emptying.

So Paul presents himself as a model for imitation.  What people see in him that’s Christ-like, they ought to imitate.  Thereby Paul challenges us to look to him, to the virtues evident in his letters and his missionary activity, and to make those virtues and that activity part of our own lives as disciples of Jesus, to the extent that’s feasible.  He also challenges us to be models ourselves who are worthy of imitation.  Within our families, do we model Christian behavior in our words and actions, whether we’re dealing with spouses, parents, children, siblings, or other relations?  At school or work, on the street and in a store, others observe our words and actions; do they see someone they might recognize as a follower of Jesus?  While many an athlete has said something like, “I’m a ballplayer, not a role model,” we can’t say that.  As Christians we are role models of what it means to be a good, virtuous person.  If we always keep that in mind, we’ll “do everything for the glory of God.”

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      [1] My Fair Lady, Act II, scene 4 (pp. 113-116).