A reflection for the 30th Sunday in Ordinary time, year C. The readings are Sirach 35:15-17, 20-22; Psalm 34 ; 2 Timothy 4:6-8, 16-18 and Luke 18:9-14.
“Lord, Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner.” That’s the Jesus Prayer, perhaps you know it: “Lord, Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinful one.” I don’t like that prayer. I don’t. I don’t like to think of myself as a sinner: a sinful one. Who does?
I was just reading the little introduction to today’s readings in the Living With Christ missal, written by Bernadette Gasslein, and she says that when the new translation of the Mass was coming out, one of the parts people objected to the most was “through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault.” It’s true, eh? Now most of us who are used to the Mass in other languages were already used to “mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa”, but those who only knew the Mass in English were not happy about that one. Because who wants to think of themselves as a sinner? That’s why people don’t go to Confession. And then, after “my most grievous fault” what do we do? “Lord, have mercy on me.” I don’t like that. “Have mercy!” It makes me think of an evil king that’s going to take my head off for no reason – like the Queen of Hearts in Alice in Wonderland, “off with her head!” – and I have to beg for my life: “have mercy on me, please!” I don’t like that because I don’t think God is an evil king that’s going to take my head off for no reason. And I don’t think I have to beg for my life.
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My homily for the 24th Sunday, year C. The readings are Exodus 32:7-11, 13-14, Psalm: 51 (I will get up and go to my Father); 1 Timothy 1:12-17 and Luke 15:1-32
Let’s review: If it was up to God, everyone would be saved. But it’s not entirely up to God. Jesus Christ opens the door; we have to go through the door; He’s not going to reach out and grab you and pull you through. Although sometimes He comes pretty close. ‘Cause that’s what you do when you love something and you lose it.
I don’t really get the whole sheep thing. Seriously, if I had 100 sheep and I lost one, I’m not going to leave the other 99 to go find this one sheep. It’s not worth the risk of losing other sheep – unless that one sheep is really valuable. Have you ever lost a pet? Our dog Max has gotten out of our yard a few times and when it happens, we stop everything – everyone goes out – we go searching until you find the dog. What if it wasn’t a pet, but your child? I was once a camp counselor and we took the kids to Canada’s Wonderland. One of the kids was 6 years old and he was in my group and I lost him. I have never been so worried, so afraid, so desperate. Thankfully we found him, he was fine – he was lost for about 20 minutes. Those were the longest 20 minutes of my life. And it wasn’t even my kid. What if it had been my own child? I don’t wish that on anyone. And that’s how God searches for us. There’s a beautiful 19th century poem by Francis Thompson called the Hound of Heaven that says that God hunts us like a blood hound. We run away, but he chases us like a hound dog. He searches until He finds us. Like a lover seeks his beloved. Like a woman who loses one of her 10 precious silver coins. Yes. Sometimes Jesus opens the door and reaches in to grab us and pull us through.
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September 14 is the Feast of the Triumph or Exaltation of the Cross. For the last two days we’ve been looking at why we exalt the cross, an instrument of death. We saw that Jesus died to destroy death for ever, so we don’t have to be under the power of death anymore. Sin leads to death. And because disobedience to God is sin, it also leads to death. It was Adam and Eve’s disobedience that led to death.
Now listen to something St. Paul says in his letter to the Philippians, which was the second reading yesterday: “He humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death – even death on a cross.” (Phil 2:8). It was because of Adam’s disobedience that sin entered into the world. St. Paul also says that, in the same way that Adam’s disobedience made us sinners, Jesus’ obedience makes us righteous (Rom 5:19).
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September 14 is the Feast of the Triumph of the Cross. Last time we looked at why we honour the Cross: Because it reminds us that Jesus died to save us.
And this is where I have a problem. Why do we need to be saved by Jesus’ death? I remember growing up learning that we are made clean, that we are redeemed by Christ’s blood, that Jesus’ death forgives all our sins. St. Peter says that we are ransomed by the blood of Christ (1 Peter 1:18-19). But why? Why couldn’t God save us by just having one big party instead? Why death?
I’m sorry to say that we don’t have the full answer to that. It’s a Mystery. There are Mysteries to our faith — not mysteries that we have to solve, like a murder mystery — but capital “M” Mysteries because they are so awesome that there is no way to explain them. But that doesn’t mean that, “Oh, it’s a mystery and we’ll never figure it out, so let’s forget it.” No, we need to keep praying and trying to understand them. We need to dwell in their presence, because maybe we won’t understand them intellectually, but I can guarantee you that when we dwell in the presence of these Mysteries, they will transform us. And that’s what we’re trying to do here: to grow in the presence of this Mystery of the Cross.
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deacon pedro 