Today’s readings got me
thinking about something I know absolutely nothing about from
personal experience – the world of long-distance races and
marathons!
I see Jeremiah, the
long-suffering, persecuted prophet, as a marathon runner, although
hardly a willing one. He tried his best to stay on the sidelines,
pleading youth and inexperience, but God would have none of it. “I
will be with you,” God had said, and that was that. So, Jeremiah
found himself in the race, a reluctant runner, at best. And his
worst fears proved true. His fearless proclamation of God’s
word brought him nothing but grief. In today’s reading we find him
at the near dead end of his run – at the bottom of a deep cistern,
of all places! Such is the fate of prophets. Such was the course of
Jeremiah’s marathon.
In the Gospel
reading Jesus was on his own prophetic marathon when he declared
that the Word of God was like a fire burning within him, waiting to
blaze forth on the earth - the fire of judgment, fire that separates
precious metals from base.
Jesus’ words are
anything but comforting, I’m sure you would agree. “I have come to
cast fire on the earth! …Do you think I have come to establish peace
on the earth? I assure you the contrary is true. I have come
for division.” Those words might make us wonder a little about
Jesus. Have the pain and intensity of his own personal marathon
caused him to lose perspective? Where now is the gentle Jesus, the
one whose yoke is easy and whose burden is light, the Jesus who
welcomed little children, who healed the sick and forgave sinners?
Where now is Jesus the loving shepherd?
Somehow these harsh
sayings don’t sound much like Jesus, the one we call the Prince of
Peace. How do lighting a fire on the earth and stirring up conflict
and division go together with “Blessed are the Peacemakers?”
The answer lies in
what we mean by peace. Peace may not be what we think. Peace is
never the product of passivity: it’s not just ‘holding one’s peace,’
as the saying has it – avoiding conflict at all costs. That can lead
a counterfeit peace and it actually comes closer to cowardice. And
peace is no friend of cowardice. No, true peace is almost always
born of painstaking efforts, struggle, and great suffering. True
peace may be gentle, but it’s strong, calm but it’s courageous.
My model peacemaker
will always be our former archbishop, Raymond Hunthausen, whose died
four years ago and whose remains rest over there in the Cathedral
crypt. Archbishop Hunthausen preached – and lived – the gospel of
peace, but it wasn’t a “feel good gospel” to tickle the ears and
gain admirers. No, after he signed up for the marathon that was his
ministry as Archbishop of Seattle, he found out that, for him as for
Jesus, the gospel of peace meant lighting fires and even creating
divisions.
And so, he dared -
in this region whose economy is fed and fueled by lucrative military
contracts and whose waters are home to the Trident nuclear submarine
– he dared to stand up and call us to examine our complicity in what
he called “the immoral arms race.” And because he was aware that
more or less one-half of the entire Federal budget was directed in
one way or another to fueling the arms race by building weapons of
mass-destruction, his conscience prompted him to withhold one-half
of his income tax as a protest. He paid a price for his courageous
position, of course, but it was a price he was willing to pay.
My friends, that was
our former archbishop. He knew that Jesus came to set the earth on
fire and he knew that baptism was more than a heartwarming ritual
marking the joy of new life: that it was also initiation -
initiation into the great marathon of passion, death and
resurrection. Ours is no different.
I know these are
anything but lighthearted thoughts for a summer weekend, but there
is an “up” side to it all as today’s second reading from the Letter
to the Hebrews reminded us. That reading, which happens to be
emblazoned on the inside of our great bronze doors, is meant to
quicken our heartbeats and give us energy for this great marathon
we’ve entered, for we are not running the race alone – we are in the
greatest company possible. We are! From the sidelines we are being
cheered on by a great “cloud of witnesses,” to use that wonderful
image from Hebrews. All the “greats” from the Old Testament are
there (read chapter 11 of the Letter to the Hebrews for the entire
litany of them). And all the “greats” of the last two-thousand years
of Christian history are there, too: saints beyond number, declared
and undeclared, apostles and martyrs and prophets, our childhood
heroes and our patron saints, our parents, grandparents, family
members, and beloved friends. They are all there. They are not
plaster statues on pedestals or photographs in a family album.
No, they are full of life, joy, and enthusiasm. Full of God!
And there they are cheering us on toward the finish line.
So, my friends,
while the marathon we’ve entered may be difficult and demanding, no
marathon ever had a better cheering section. And, thanks to God’s
grace, no runners ever had a better chance of winning the prize!
Father Michael G. Ryan
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