Friday of the Thirtieth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 483

...I have great sorrow and constant anguish in my heart.
For I could wish that I myself were accursed and cut off from Christ
for the sake of my own people,
my kindred according to the flesh.

Saint Paul spoke honestly of his sorrow and anguish that his own Jewish people had not embraced the Way of Jesus. He certainly remembered his own history of violent resistance to the Gospel, but he saw the truth of the Gospel so clearly that he desperately wanted his own people to see it as well. He knew the Son of Mary had fulfilled the ancient promise to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; and it was so important that the whole world should come to know it as well. 

His anguish is so intense that he must write extensively about it in the ninth and tenth chapters of his Epistle to the Romans. But, twenty centuries later, it remains a challenge for Christians everywhere. How do we understand our debt to the Jews? How do we understand their mission in the world? 

The Apostle's sorrow and anguish, however, are only the beginning of a long and more complex history of divisiveness, anguish, and sorrow, because it must include our deep disappointment in ourselves. Despite the Lord's prayer during his last supper -- "that all might be one" -- we are not one. And our mission to the Jews is severely compromised by that scandal. If they are believe in Jesus Christ, which flavor should they choose? 

Today we are witnessing a resurgence of Catholic enthusiasm. After the apparent setbacks of the Second Vatican Council, when thousands of career religious -- that is, priests, sisters, brothers, and bishops -- left the ministry (and often, the Church); skepticism about the Eucharist increased, and Sunday attendance plummeted; we are now seeing a return of Catholic enthusiasm. The numbers may be small , but the Spirit is good; and that's important. 

But with enthusiasm comes militarism, an undeserved sense of superiority and unlicensed authority. I have heard that militarism in my own preaching. I have sometimes spoken disparagingly of what I understand about Protestant prayer and worship. It's easy to mock the continual fracturing of Christian denominations. But our response should be sorrow; divisiveness can only be a dreadful disappointment to everyone who looks to the Gospel for salvation. 

Catholics should never adopt an attitude of superiority about Protestant churches, prayer, or practice. The scriptures confront us: 
    "We have sinned like our ancestors; we have done wrong and are guilty." (Psalm 106:6) 

Without the spirit and practice of penance -- as in the Sacrament of Reconciliation -- Catholic churchgoing is not visibly different from any variety of Christian attendance. "You go to church on Sunday morning, and return home again; what's the difference?"

We should feel with Saint Paul, great sorrow and constant anguish in our hearts. For we could wish that we were accursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of our kindred according to the flesh.

Obviously, being "cut off" would not help; although some, like Simone Weil, choose that manner of protest. Rather, we ask God what responsibility do we have for the separation? And what does true obedience demand of us?

Whenever anyone leaves the Body of Christ, they take a part of the Truth with them. That must be a matter of intense grief. Perhaps the Lord is purifying his Church, and we might feel relief when they depart; but we should also experience Paul's sorrow and anguish. 

Nor can we expect a sudden return. The Old Testament as we have it, is deeply aware of the tragic dispersal of God's people throughout the world. Both Testaments long for a reunification of God's people: Jews and Christians, Protestants and Catholics, and all the separated brethren. 

There can be only one Body of Christ.

I mean that each of you is saying, “I belong to Paul,” or “I belong to Apollos,” or “I belong to Cephas,” or “I belong to Christ.” 

Is Christ divided? (1Cor 1:13)