The 7th Sunday in Ordinary Time
February 23, 2014
Click here to listen to this
homily (mp3 file)
Catholic preachers don’t normally give titles to homilies and post them on a
reader board but, if I were to name this one, I’d call it “Journey to the Center
of the Faith.” There are lots of ways to sum up our faith, of course, but
few better than the words from the Sermon on the Mount in today’s gospel: “You
have heard the commandment, ‘An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. But I say
to you, offer no resistance to evil. When a person strikes you on the right
cheek, turn and offer him the other….You have heard the commandment, ‘You shall
love your neighbor but hate your enemy,’ but I say to you, love your enemies,
pray for your persecutors….”
Those words of Jesus are a journey to the center of
our faith. And they are not just words: they are commandments. In the Sermon on
the Mount, Matthew presents Jesus as the new Moses, the new Lawgiver. His
commandments seem lofty and idealistic – so much so that we might wonder if
Jesus was a bit naïve, out-of-touch with life’s harsh and brutal realities. And
it could seem so -- until we remember that Jesus became a lightning rod for
human cruelty at its worst yet refused to strike back. Jesus ended his life on a
cross with words of forgiveness on his lips: “Father, forgive them, for they
know not what they do.”
There’s a part of us that stands in utter amazement
at this, but there’s another part that says, ‘Jesus was divine. I’m only human.’
But we don’t get off that easily. Divinity for Jesus was not a shortcut around
his humanity. That would make a mockery of the Incarnation. No, Jesus, who was
“tempted like us in all things,” must himself have struggled to get beyond the
urge to strike back. And you and I? Rather than struggle with it, we
often find ways to justify it because if we took Jesus at his word, did what he
did, wouldn’t we become doormats, and wouldn’t human society dissolve into
anarchy?
I wonder if thoughts like these came to
mind a week or two ago when Governor Inslee announced a moratorium on the death
penalty. I wouldn’t be surprised if they did, because fully 63% of the people of
this state – undoubtedly many of them Catholic –favor the death penalty, and
only 25% oppose it. And even though the governor’s reasons for the moratorium
fall short of the Church’s reasons for strongly opposing the death penalty, we
should nonetheless welcome the opportunity he has provided to engage in serious
conversation on the most serious issue.
And as Christians, we have a head start
on the conversation. We do. We have the teaching of Jesus, some of which we
heard in today’s gospel. And we have more: we have Jesus’ own personal and
unconditional embrace of non-violence, Jesus who, when he became the target of
human cruelty, did not seek revenge or retaliation but willingly accepted death,
opening his arms on the cross –- as if to say, this is the only way to break the
endless cycle of retaliation and revenge.
And I admit all this can seem naïve and
out-of-touch, but Jesus says that it is God’s way and for that reason he tells
us that it must be our way, too. “You must be perfect”, he says, “as your
heavenly Father is perfect.”
My friends, Jesus calls us to do nothing less than
what God does in the face of evil: confront it, not with more evil, but with
good, with love –- God who makes the sun shine on the just and the unjust alike,
God who shows kindness and compassion to people no matter who, God who lavishes
mercy and kindness on those who are in evil’s grip, as Jesus makes so clear.
Think of the woman caught in adultery, or of the sinful woman who crashed the
dinner party and washed his feet with her tears. Think of Zacchaeus, the crooked
tax collector. Think of all the time Jesus spent in the company of sinners, even
dining with them.
Let me share with you an experience I had a couple
years ago that awakened me to this foundational Christian teaching, an
experience all the more powerful because it involved a non-Christian, a Muslim
doctor by the name of Izzeldin Abuelaish, a remarkable prophet of peace who
shared his story one night over at Town Hall. His three daughters and a niece
were tragically and senselessly killed one night by Israeli shells that should
never have been fired but which directly hit his home in Gaza. His response to
that tragedy that stripped him of the very dearest people in his life is set
forth in an extraordinary book entitled “I Shall Not Hate.” Instead of
calling for revenge or retaliation, he calls for dialogue -- for Palestinians
and Israelis to talk to each other. And he expresses the hope that his daughters
will be (in his words) “the last sacrifice on the road to peace between
Palestinians and Israelis.” A remarkable story, I’m sure you’ll agree, and a
more powerful homily on today’s gospel than I could ever give.
Another powerful homily on this gospel was the life
and teaching of Dr. Martin Luther King who once said that, “The ultimate
weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral, begetting the very thing
it seeks to destroy. Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding
deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars.”
My friends, we live in a night all too devoid of
stars, but it doesn’t have to be this way. When He opened his arms on the cross
and willingly accepted death, Jesus showed us the path to peace and
reconciliation, and every time we offer this Sacrifice in his memory and receive
into our own bodies His Body that was broken for us, Jesus not only shows us the
path to peace and reconciliation, he takes us there.
Father Michael G. Ryan
