Sunday, August 28, 2022

Homily for 22d Sunday of Ordinary Time

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).

The Marriage Feast (Paolo Veronese)

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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