Tuesday of the Seventeenth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 402

The Son of Man will send his angels,
and they will collect out of his Kingdom
all who cause others to sin and all evildoers.
They will throw them into the fiery furnace,
where there will be wailing and grinding of teeth.
Then the righteous will shine like the sun
in the Kingdom of their Father.
Whoever has ears ought to hear."

A religious theme park in Kentucky purports to be a replica of Noah's ark. I've not seen it but I understand it's interesting, entertaining, and expensive. They've built an enormous boat-that-never-sees-water so far from the parking lot that passers-by have to pay the fare, or rent an airplane, if they would see without paying. 

A predictable response appears in a nearby billboard lambasting Christians for their hope and expectation of eternal, everlasting, unquenchable fire for sinners. They are reminded that their God is responsible for the death of billions of people and untold suffering of all creatures. The mockers love scripture passages like today's gospel. And we have to admit that it strikes fear in us. That's what it's intended to do. 

And yet the same mockers don't hesitate to vilify known sinners. They routinely accuse politicians and entertainers of the most horrible motives when they are caught with their pants down. They love the sins -- especially fornication and adultery -- and hate sinners. And everyone agrees the Nazis were really bad people and should not enjoy any kind of eternal reward for their savagery. 

Preachers and catechists sometimes use passages like today's to persuade people they should go to church and should ante into the collection. When their exciting, entertaining religious performances fail to reap a generous harvest of souls and cash, they resort to threats of hellfire. But Catholic preachers are also vilified; James Joyce vividly describes the Jesuit rants of his highschool years in his autobiographical Portrait of a Young Man as an Artist. 

Several years ago, I ask one of our elderly friars about that. Father Mark had crisscrossed the country by train while preaching parish missions. He said fire and brimstone was not our Franciscan tradition, There were, however, maudlin and prolonged descriptions of Jesus's bloody sacrifice. They attempted to shame the sinner into remorse and, perhaps, repentance. 

So what do we make of these Gospel threats? Certainly, there is savage evil in this world which cries for reparation, atonement, and justice. As the Lord said when he discovered the death of Abel, "Your brother’s blood cries out to me from the ground!" Human cruelty is sometimes described as beastial, and then the same speaker will admit beasts don't behave like that. They kill but they don't usually torture their prey for entertainment or sexual satisfaction.  

That horror seems reserved for human beings, and is typical of us. It should be described as human rather than animal. Because we enjoy free will, only humans are capable of sin. We use our fabulous imagination to create ever more savage means of murder. The world's oldest profession is not prostitution but the manufacture and marketing of weapons to efficiently kill more and more people. Most cities in the United States -- if not all -- eagerly welcome gun shows every weekend of the year. The toll of innocent children, spurned lovers, and suicidal white men is not yet complete. And, your brother's blood still cries to heaven for revenge."

Our apocalyptic imagination also feeds on the promise of an atonement that is equally savage. It should be complete. It should "wipe away every tear." 

Despite the rants of the secular world, the Church does not eagerly await the punishment of sinners. They are our children. We must keep practicing the faith. We must keep our doors open and we must remember the sacrificial death of Jesus. We must "do this in memory of me," for if we fail, the world and all human life will descend into utter futility and ever-worsening horror. His death and resurrection will mean nothing. 

We cannot stop calling sinners and warning them of the consequences of their sin. We cannot stop atoning daily for our own sins; for anyone -- regardless of their real or reputed virtue  -- who denies their guilt betrays the truth about themselves. The Lord himself, though innocent as I am not, became guilty for me. He stood by me and would not deny his kinship with me, nor was he ashamed to call me his brother. And he suffered the consequences that should have come for me. 

And so we pray daily for ourselves and the world, that God might forgive us because his Son Jesus Christ has. And we pray that the mercy we did not show to him, will nonetheless be shown to us. In his name.