Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/070112.cfm

Friars John Mauer and David Lenz

God did not make death,
nor does he rejoice in the destruction of the living.
For he fashioned all things that they might have being;
and the creatures of the world are wholesome,
and there is not a destructive drug among them
nor any domain of the netherworld on earth,
for justice is undying.
For God formed man to be imperishable;
the image of his own nature he made him.

The healing of the aged woman and the little girl demonstrates Jesus’ compassion for women; but today’s first reading from the Book of Wisdom directs our attention beyond the plight of women. God’s compassion, appearing in the person of Jesus, reaches out to all creatures, “for justice is undying.”

Saint Paul invites his Corinthian disciples to take part in that superabundant, overflowing compassion when he writes, “may you excel in this gracious act also.” Specifically he is asking them to send famine-relief money to Jerusalem, but he wants them to understand how their generosity fits the grand scheme of things.

In our own time, we have heard the demand for compassion; it comes to us in the language of rights. Soon after World War II, African-Americans found their voices and demanded “civil rights.” Because they had made significant contributions to the war effort, former warriors demanded full membership in the American experiment. Empowered by the new television media, they won a hearing in churches throughout the nation.

The civil rights movement spread as Native Americans, women and gays also found their voices and demanded an end to violence and equal opportunities. Finally, unborn children, people with disabilities, the environment and animals – wild and domesticated -- found champions in the burgeoning rights movement.

Meanwhile, those of us who are comfortably ensconced in the middle class wonder if our compassion can, should or must extend that far. Feeling beleaguered, we wonder who will be the next to demand their share of the pie.

Some idealists – let’s call them “bleeding heart liberals” -- believe there is plenty to go around. Everyone can enjoy first class medical care, three weeks of annual vacation, ample food, fashionable clothes, universal education, equal opportunity, early retirement and so forth. A chicken in every pot, four cars in every garage, and a power boat in the nearest lake: what can be wrong with that?

But the crashing sounds coming from the European Union and the Great Recession on Main Street tell us otherwise. The party’s over. If we’re all to live on this planet comfortably, we will have fewer comforts than we were taught to expect.

Our Planet Earth demonstrates God’s superabundant generosity, but the Earth cannot tolerate exploitation. There may be enough to go around; but there will never be as much as everyone wants.

Which bring us back to the gospel: recalling the heroic, superabundant generosity of Jesus, we must notice the price he paid for his liberality. In the end his enemies caught up with him precisely because he was generous to women, the sick, the hungry, orphaned and homeless. Although he was a respected rabbi, he neglected his own class and assisted the needy. But the empire must strike back against his kind of freedom. For his thanks, Jesus could expect nothing more than a cross on which to die and a grave in which to lie.

Many will say, “Whoa, that’s too much. I cannot and will not share what I have taken for myself. I earned what I have; let them earn it too.” But what that means is, “I have taken what I want; let them take it from me, if they can.” It is, in effect, a declaration of war.