Thursday of the Sixteenth Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 398

But blessed are your eyes, because they see,
and your ears, because they hear.
Amen, I say to you, many prophets and righteous people
longed to see what you see but did not see it,
and to hear what you hear but did not hear it.

In September I will have the rare (for me) privilege of officially witnessing the rite of marriage. I have not, in my 48 years of priesthood, presided over many weddings, and I look forward to this one. 

In my homily, I want to speak of that mystery which Jesus reveals to his disciples, a mystery vast, complex, beautiful, fascinating, and frightening.

Every human being suspects the truth about marriage, but only those with blessed eyes and ears can see or hear it. The mystery is given to the Church to announce to the whole world; or at least, to those willing to hear it. 

A Catholic knows certain obvious things about marriage. Of course it's monogamous, exclusively faithful, life-long, and eager to conceive children! Nothing else makes sense! Aren't we made for that? Isn't that precisely what every healthy person wants? But those obvious qualities are not obvious to many, nor even apparent. The mystery has not been revealed to them; they have eyes but do not see and ears that do not hear. 

I will remind the couple and the wedding guests that marriage is a public event. While there is much that is private in marriage, and should be private, the vows are nonetheless public. They are declared before God, the Church, the government, and the public; and by the vows one adds new depth to all those relationships. 

Marriage is not easy, nor is it meant to be. Nothing in human life is easy. Even our walking on two legs and holding our heads upright is difficult. It takes enormous courage to enter the sacrament and more courage to remain in it through its unexpected challenges and unforeseen consequences.

That courage is divine; it is God's gift to married couples. We understand God's courage because we have contemplated the Holy Trinity. The Father has surrendered everything -- all the majesty, power, truth, and beauty of Godhead -- to the Son. That is, to that which is Other, for the Father and the Son are not the same. Like a husband and wife, they reflect and complement one another but they are not the same. When the Father loves the Son and the Son loves the Father, they have only an assurance of their mutual love. It is given but it is neither automatic nor guaranteed. The cross shows us how difficult it is. 

As God the Father surrenders all divinity to the Son, a married man surrenders his life to his wife; and she, to her husband. And both must hope and pray that they will remain faithful to their vows and worthy of one another's surrender. 

Like the disciples who asked Jesus, "Why do you preach to them in parables?" we wonder why marriage must be like this. Isn't there some easier, more pleasant, more agreeable way to manage our sexual impulses? But, like Jesus who could neither turn stones into bread nor leap off the parapet of the temple, a married couple cannot turn away from one another. They are bound by the love of God. 

In today's first reading we heard how the Hebrews trembled as they beheld God's ominous, dark cloud over the mountain, and as they saw bolts of lightning and heard peals of thunder. But they were not allowed to flee from the presence of God. Like marriage, the LORD is fascinating, beautiful, delightful, and terrifying; and we keep coming back. We cannot tear ourselves away. Our covenant with God, so necessary and beautiful, binds us together.