Memorial for Blessed Michael McGivney, priest and founder of the Knights of Columbus

 

Lectionary: 418

The word of the LORD came to me: Son of man, what is the meaning of this proverb that you recite in the land of Israel:

"Fathers have eaten green grapes, thus their children's teeth are on edge"?

It's not an unusual story: some children of really awful parents grow up to be solid, dependable citizens; and some exemplary parents raise slackers with little promise of maturity and no intention of giving back. We might think the fruit doesn't fall very far from the tree, but sometimes we wonder whose child is that? 

The religion of Israel, reflecting the simpler days of the desert sojourn and the judges, believed that children inherited the guilt of their criminal parents even if they lived exemplary lives. The guilt was enshrined in the hostile attitudes of rural neighbors, and was proven by whatever bad luck befell them. Even if some of that bad luck was due to the neighbors who shunned them.

However, when David and Solomon built Jerusalem into an international city with a large population and connections to foreign capitals, individuals could choose their friends and acquaintances and ignore their ancestral enemies. They needn't depend upon their families; they could make their own connections; and might not even know their neighbors. This is the advantage of urban development; and, largely, the reason for it. Ambitious persons might build their own fortunes within the new and ever-evolving opportunities of the city. If some characters were shady, you dealt with them anyway. The old religion had to adjust to new ways of thinking and the children's teeth were no longer set on edge if their fathers had eaten green grapes.

Ezekiel, a man of two cities, Jerusalem and Babylon, understood that. Although he believed with all his heart and soul in YHWH, the God of the desert and wilderness, the God of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, and David, he didn't buy the old superstitions. Nor did they fit his personal experience of a merciful God.  

Today, as we survive ever-evolving changes and some catastrophes, we must retain our fidelity to an ancient religion with its memories of prehistoric times. Many old attitudes -- formed less by the gospel than by former ways of thinking -- are challenged as the world's population moves to cities. Fewer people can say their grandparents lived on a farm, raised their own chickens, and followed horse-drawn plows. The old homestead is gone; and grandparents have retired to Florida or Arizona. Uncles and aunts also live in distant parts. 

In the city, Roman Catholic parishes may define their geographical boundaries but mobilized parishioners attend the church that fits their tastes and style. They choose the message and vote for their pastors with their feet and their finances. 

In this brave new world, bishops assume the role of prophets as they oppose abortion, euthanasia, and gay marriage. They suspect random social experiments created by a society which has no memory of the past or aspiration for the future. Not every new idea is a good one. Exciting is not a Christian value. 

We remember life in the Sinai desert, Jerusalem, the Roman Empire, medieval Europe, and the rural countryside; and we worship the same LORD who spoke to our ancestors. We love the Father of Jesus of Nazareth. We honor Mary, the Mother of God; and invoke the companionship of the saints and martyrs. 

So long as we remember who we are with the prophetic courage of Ezekiel, we are not lost.