Friday of the Third Week of Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 321

With many such parables
he spoke the word to them as they were able to understand it.
Without parables he did not speak to them,
but to his own disciples he explained everything in private.

A fellow asked me recently, "How can we 'glorify God?'" The expression made no sense to him. Can one brighten the light of the sun? I used a homely example: with a hand mirror we can direct sunlight in any direction, and also back toward the sun. With our praise of God we glorify God. He was not satisfied. 

Catholics must live in a pluralistic, multivalent society that speaks a language stripped of subtleties, even as they practice a faith which is anchored by symbols, parables, and supernatural definitions. We often suppose we understand something because we've heard the expression in Church, and yet cannot begin to explain it in other words. When the four-syllable word consubstantial was reinserted in the Nicene Creed, people complained they didn't know what the word meant, although they had never asked about the four syllables of "...one in being with the Father.'  

In my Bible study group, I noticed the jailer in the Acts of the Apostles who asked Saint Paul, "What must I do to be saved?" In my experience as a hospital chaplain, no one ever asked that question. Some old fellows said they were satisfied with their lives. I asked a few in hospice care to "Say hello to my folks!" and they seemed to know what I meant. 

So I asked the Bible group what the jailer meant by the word saved.  "We go to heaven." was the best offering. But what is heaven; how do we imagine it today, given our appreciation of time, history, and politics. Though they often describe restless ghosts who haunt the earth, writers and the entertainment industry show little interest in heaven. It must be a place with no drama, and no stories to tell. 

The Lord's parable about weeds and wheat flew right over the heads of most of his listeners, as they still do today. No matter how pointed they are, they don't get parables. "Sure it's unfortunate what happened to the rich man," they might have said, "but what does the story of Lazarus and Dives have to do with me?" 

In fact, religious questions often have an anxious subtext which points to the jailer's question, "Sirs, what must I do to be saved?" Perhaps he was asking, "Will I be herded like everyone else into the oblivion of eternal emptiness?"

Some people ask, "Will everyone be saved?" Jesus replied, "Strive to enter through the narrow gate."
"But," they persist, "will everyone be saved?"
 "What is it you really want to know? Are you asking what is the minimum standard for your personal salvation? Are you asking about your children who attend no church and have not had your grandchildren baptized? Are you asking if you'll be saved and they will not be? Where is your question coming from? 
Are you suggesting that God's standards are unfair? That He asks too much?
Perhaps he should not have made us in the first place, if his standards are so demanding." 

The saints show us how to walk in faith without asking unanswerable questions. They show us that faith in God means that many of our neighbors, acquaintances, and family will be seriously uncomfortable with us; and that we will not be able to conform to their standards. Fidelity means we're not amused by their entertainment, and their jokes are not funny.  We cannot participate in their gossip nor agree with their politics. 

But we have a responsibility to God and a duty to others to live and demonstrate the challenge of the Gospel. Like Saint Paul, we are prophets who bless what is good in the world, and shun what is below human dignity. But we see where many are blind; and we hear what many cannot hear. Even the silent death of a beggar shouts at us.