Thursday of the Nineteenth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 416​

Son of man, you live in the midst of a rebellious house; they have eyes to see but do not see, and ears to hear but do not hear, for they are a rebellious house.

Older Catholics of my generation were formed by a fairly rigid sacramental tradition. We learned to examine our conscience based on the Ten Commandments. Each command was explicated with certain well-defined sins. These definitions supported parental, civil and ecclesial authorities. They frowned upon anything remotely sexual and did not hesitate to suspect passing thoughts or impulses as reprehensible. Accidental oversights or illness were no excuse for "mortal sins" like eating meat on Friday or missing Mass on Sunday. It was a good system for children, based on the threat of punishment and promise of reward; but few Catholics received much religious formation beyond the eighth grade. Once the maturing teens and young adults realized there were few rewards for good behavior and threats were idle, many shed the old guidelines like discarded clothes.

Where do we go from here?

As adults we realize it's not so easy to apply simple moral standards in a complex society. As voting citizens we make difficult choices, often between lesser evils. Opting out is not an option. As consumers we wonder if we must "Buy American," or should we choose the better price. Do we prefer the school where our children will meet minority groups or the schools with better paid, more qualified teachers? As parents do we hover over our children or let them fly on their own, learning from their mistakes and failures?

As adults we realize the "individual" is a myth, only a half-truth. The boundaries between persons are not clear; every personal decision affects other people. Every moral decision has consequences and some of them are unfortunate. We must often apologize for doing the right thing. We must often say, "I made the best choice with the information I had."

Today's gospel describes a scandalous situation. A powerful man has abused his power, violently mistreating an inferior and assuming he could get away with it. Sound familiar? He is punished mostly because he has already been publicly humiliated. But his throttling a fellow servant, we can suppose, was standard behavior for him. Like the CEOs whose sexual aggressions are now exposed, everyone knew what was going on behind the sovereign's back -- if he wasn't actually aware of it. When enough people were upset about the behavior and the unrest threatened to overturn the entire kingdom, the authority had to step in and execute a vengeful justice.

The steward violated common human decency for reasons apparent only to his troubled mind. He operated in an isolated world of his personal resentments, greed and stupidity. He had lost the ability to receive mercy and could not offer it to others. He had become a monster, a subspecies of humanity incapable of compassion -- despite his abilities, education and standing in society. Given the firestorm he had set in motion there was nothing to be done but to hand him over to the torturers until he should pay back the whole debt. Perhaps that public retribution would stabilize the ruler's tottering kingdom.

The moral of Jesus' parable is not hard to grasp. The story demonstrates the principle he has already taught us, one we recite many times a day, "Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us."

By custom and habit, we examine our conscience and consider the mercy we have received. It should not take very much reflection to discover the continual, superabundant goodness of God in which we live and move and have our being  As I sit here on a sheltered porch on a morning in August I feel a gentle, cooling breeze on my ankles. It's lovely. One more blessing from God. 

Should we not have pity on our fellow servants, as God has pity on us?