Twenty-fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 132

This saying is trustworthy and deserves full acceptance:
Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners. 
Of these I am the foremost. 
But for that reason I was mercifully treated,
so that in me, as the foremost,
Christ Jesus might display all his patience as an example
for those who would come to believe in him for everlasting life. 


Somewhere during the early days of the 20th century, artists became fascinated with themselves. If you would read the poetry of W.B. Yeats, James Joyce, Hart Crane or Sylvia Plath, for instance, you will have to read a biography of the poet. You must know something of their times and their politics, their family of origin, their sexual orientation and their love affairs. Going further back in history, it helps one's appreciation to know something of the life of Wordsworth, Keats or Shelley. 

Earlier poets -- Alexander Pope, John Milton, Edmund Spencer -- didn't require that attention. William Shakespeare revealed so little about himself some scholars argue he never existed!  But the Romantic poets and their heirs require a public fascinated with their private lives. 

As odd as that self-absorption might seem, it lends itself to our Christian spirituality. The preacher who shares nothing of himself, who teaches principles and tells metaphorical stories about people he may have known, will not be as effective as the one who gives personal testimony. He or she must give a witness of what God has done. 

Of Jesus, we know very little. The Son of God cannot invite probes into his inner life. Despite the efforts of some novelists, our human minds are too weak and too prone to sin to fathom the mystery of God. 

Saint Paul, however, opens his heart to us in his letters and epistles. He can say with utter conviction "Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners." His conviction persuades because we know his story. He made no secret of this past. He wasn't even ashamed of it. As a young man with solid philosophical and religious training he felt commissioned by God and by Jewish elders to suppress the Christian religion. The latter had given him letters of recommendation. The barbaric killing of Steven may have been more than he intended, but it didn't dissuade him from his mission. 

MSF Picnic 2013

His abrupt conversion came only after a personal epiphany, when the Lord spoke to him and demanded an explanation of his behavior, "Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?" 

One of the great failures of our Church today, it seems to me, is the reluctance of people to share their own story. I meet aging Veterans in the VA hospital who were raised Catholic and yet cannot speak of their parents' faith. They tell me, "My parents made me go to Church." but neither parent spoke of their own faith struggle. 

In some cases, perhaps, there was no struggle. The parents never saw the conflict between their church attendance and their personal behavior. They punished with a heavy hand, drank excessively and smoked. They resisted integration with African-American and Native American people. Their children were scandalized by their behavior and the Church has suffered for it. 

In many cases parents still send their children to church and to religious instruction. Priests and catechists scratch our heads over that. What good can we do for the children in the face of such cynicism? One Veteran told me he had to choose between his non-practicing father and the teacher who said his father would go to hell. He chose to go with his father. Who can blame his loyalty? 

As witnesses of the gospel, our lives have to make sense. Our stories speak of cycles of faith, sin and forgiveness. We hoped, felt discouraged and learned to hope again. We loved, betrayed, were betrayed, and were reconciled. When I introduce myself to the Veterans, especially in the psych wards, I speak freely of my depression, shock treatment, medications and counseling. I attest to God's patience with me as he leads me through this sometimes bitter valley. 

MSF Picnic 2013

And I celebrate with everyone who joins me in prayer. Today's three gospel parables conclude with, "Rejoice with me." No one's life is perfect. We are all lost, confused, betrayed, cruel and stupid on occasion; and yet the Lord claims us for his own. 

We must tell the stories of our lost sheep, lost coins and lost children. And then we must rejoice. No family is perfect, no household is trouble free, but no one can live without celebrating the wonderful things God has done for us.