Many of us remember, I’m sure, the story of Sisyphus in
Greek mythology. Sisyphus was the King of Corinth, a shrewd and clever
fellow, who offended the gods so egregiously that he was consigned to
spend eternity in Hades, pushing a huge boulder up a great hillside. And
each time Sisyphus would succeed in getting the boulder within inches of
the summit, the slope of the hill was such that the stone would roll
back and fall to the bottom, and he would have to start all over again.
Forever.
The ancient myth speaks to the futility of human
endeavors and the ultimate meaninglessness of life. There is only
effort, endless effort. And success is endlessly elusive.
Standing over and against such cynicism is the
Christian gospel of hope that views life as a purposeful mission, a
journey to glory. But gospel hope is more than shallow optimism. Far
more. Gospel hope is rooted in the Easter mystery we are celebrating
during these fifty days, the mystery that took Jesus to the very
pinnacle of glory but only through the dark valley of death.
Gospel hope is powerfully pictured in the new heavens
and new earth of today’s reading from the Book of Revelation: the new
Jerusalem, the heavenly city where God delights to dwell among mere
mortals like us, and where God wipes away the tears from every eye, and
allows no more death or mourning, crying out or pain. A glorious picture
of hope that is, to be sure.
But, my friends, what about this city? What about
Seattle or Sammamish, Bellevue or Burien? It’s hard not to think,
for instance, of the recent KOMO-TV documentary about the “dying of
Seattle” that raised a such waves of controversy and recriminations.
What about these cities of ours that seem so far removed from the
heavenly Jerusalem? Is there any connection between our cities –
this city - and the City of God?
The gospel makes it clear that there is a vital link
between what we do here in the earthly city and the City of God and that
we are making that link in every hungry mouth we feed, every homeless
person we shelter, every prisoner we rehabilitate, every defenseless
life we champion, every refugee we welcome, every injustice we refuse to
tolerate. When we do these things out of love and in the name of Jesus
Christ, we are building a bridge between the two cities, putting in
place the building blocks of the City of God. And we are also turning
the story of Sisyphus – pointless labor leading nowhere – on its head
because, in the Christian gospel there is no giant boulder endlessly
rolling back on itself. There are steep hills to be climbed, for sure,
sometimes exceedingly steep (think of the hill called Calvary), but the
boulders we push are really building blocks, and the building blocks are
love.
"I give you a new commandment," we heard Jesus say in
today’s gospel. "Love one another as I have loved you. This is how all
will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another."
It would be hard to find in all the gospels words more important than
those words of Jesus, or a challenge greater for us as his followers. We
are to love, and by our love, people will not only come to know that we
are his disciples – we will also be laying the foundations, raising the
walls, building stone by stone the dwelling places of the City of God.
But we have a long ways to go, don’t we! We are
daily surrounded with painful reminders of just how far. The homeless
and hungry, the victims of random violence, the elderly with no
security, the addicted, the sick without proper health care, abused
children and oppressed minorities, the untreated mentally ill – all
these people, sisters and brothers every one of them – are like the
mythical Sisyphus: endlessly pushing great boulders that keep falling
back on them.
My friends, our call – and it’s a holy call -
is to be at their side: to lend our hands, our hearts, our time, our
treasure, our voice, to help turn their burdens, their boulders into
building blocks for the heavenly city.
And this holy calling takes us right in the footsteps of Jesus who was
not content merely to preach the coming of the Reign of God; no, he
actually brought it about by his compassionate ministry to people on the
margins: the poor, the downtrodden, the neglected or, as someone has put
it, ‘the least, the last, and the lost.’
Last week, Pope Francis gave an address to the clergy
of Rome in which he challenged them over and over again to “listen to
the city.” I like that expression. Listening to the city, he told them,
means seeking out those whom the city is inclined to avoid, or ignore,
or leave behind - seeking them out and accompanying them.
My friends in Christ, we can’t build the City of God
unless we listen to the city, and we can’t listen to the city unless we
are willing to embrace the city with all its pain, its chaos, its
brokenness. That’s a tall order. A Sisyphean task, for sure, but the
outcome is assured and it’s anything but hopeless…!
In just a moment, now, a wonderful group of people who
have been on a very intentional journey of faith for a long time, will
stand with us to profess their faith and they will then be confirmed in
that faith and receive the Eucharist for the first time. How good it is
to welcome them, and what a joy it is to have them join us! Together,
hand in hand, may be do our part to build the heavenly city which God
insists on building with human hands!
Father Michael G. Ryan
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