Good news is bad news

Twenty-fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time (C)

Gospel of Luke 16: 1-13

The good news today is bad news.

For about five seasons I was a faithful follower of “Mad Men.” Though the scripts were well-written, it took only a single episode for me to realize that there was not a single redeeming character in the story. No one ever learned from their mistakes and each character kept making the same mistake over and over. But sin is fascinating to watch. Each week each character sank deeper and deeper into a bottomless pit of moral indifference. And so, after five seasons I just lost interest. In the end I became bored by characters whose concerns were all totally self-centered.

Today’s Gospel features two unredeemed characters. The rich man master is not admirable. He thrives in a system of injustice that preys on poor people. He is a businessman in a world in which the custom is to exact 100% interest on the cost of goods he sells. This system was quite common in Jesus’ time.

The steward is not admirable. We are told in the beginning that he squanders the rich man’s property. The steward, however, is clever. He knows that as a result of having been caught he will lose his job and have to fend for himself. So he goes to his master’s debtors and rewrites their debts effectively slashing the 100% interest from what they owe the master. Of course, this further harms the master because he makes no profit. He will receive the return of the debt owed to him but he will make no profit.

The master applauds the steward’s cleverness. He commends him for his prudence. But the English word prudence does not express the meaning of the word well. The Greek word is phronimos, an adverb describing practical action aimed at accomplishing some particular end. The steward knows how to look out for himself.

Is Jesus suggesting we admire the steward? I think not. The children of this world, he says, are more prudent in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light. In Luke’s Gospel ‘world’ is the world of evil. ‘Light’ is that world begun by Jesus. Trustworthiness, Jesus says, is the great virtue. The steward is not trustworthy with the dishonest wealth of the master. So who would trust the steward with true wealth?

True wealth is not found in the business dealings of the master. It’s not found in our own worldly business dealings. Neither is it found in our malicious or devious dealings with one another at any level. No. True wealth does not exist in our manipulative business dealings or in our manipulative personal relationships. If we are not trustworthy with the belongings of another – and perhaps ‘belongings’ refers to a person’s integrity, joy, sorrow, talent, etc. – then who will give us what rightly belongs to us?

Jesus then gets very direct. We can’t serve both God and mammon, that is, we can’t serve both God and money or material wealth. Christians cannot serve false wealth.

In a way, you could say that Luke sticks it to us today. In the Gospel for the feast of St. Matthew, Jesus chides the Pharisees when he selects Matthew as one of his followers by saying, “Go and learn the meaning of the words, I desire mercy, not sacrifice. I did not come to call the righteous but sinners.”

The master in today’s Gospel is a righteous man by virtue of his wealth. The steward is a sinner. But unlike Matthew, the sinner who responded to the call of Jesus, neither the master nor the steward are capable of recognizing their sinfulness. Each is righteous by virtue of his own self-interest.

Pope Francis has reiterated over and over during the short term of his papacy the importance of mercy, and the importance of being concerned with the needs of others.

So today’s Gospel is bad news for us if we think we are superior to anyone else because we have the money, or because we have the privileged position, or the good looks, or because we are holier, or smarter, or a better athlete or whatever. In the beautiful interview Pope Francis gave this past week, he was asked who he is. I am a sinner, was his reply. As he reflected further he completed the response, “I am a sinner, but I trust in the infinite mercy and patience of our Lord Jesus Christ, and I accept in a spirit of penance.”

Are you and I masters, stewards, or sinners?

 

 

Hand or mouth?

Distributing the Eucharist nowadays is not a simple matter. In the U.S at least one can choose to receive the host in the hand or on the tongue. Growing up we were never allowed to receive the Eucharist except on the tongue. It was only a couple of years after I was ordained that reception in the hand became an option and it quickly became the norm. For those of us who received our first communions in the late 40s and earlier or until the early 70s, it was a relief to receive in the hand.

Our training for our first communion in 1948 included numerous fear tactics. The hosts we used at that time were fairly tiny wafers of considerable softness. We were instructed, under pains of some terrible disaster that could befall us, not to chew the host and God help you if you touched it. I remember getting the host stuck on the roof of my mouth - more than once - and waiting to be struck dead when I finally had to loosen it with a finger after it became a curled up ball still stuck on the roof of my mouth. The penalty for touching the host under any circumstance was truly frightening, but we never learned what the penalty was. At times I thought it to be a mortal sin and I think one passionate and merciless sister or other taught us that. 

During my first year in the seminary, a priest on the staff who offered our Mass regularly was notorious for picking up a host with his thumb and index finger and then putting it into our mouths in such a way as to slide his thumb on our tongues. Thus, each successive communicant was greeted with a saliva-filled thumb facing oneself holding up an already wet host.

I have told our seminarians about him when I ask them to please - if you are going to receive communion on the tongue - make sure your tongue is extended sufficiently so that the priest does not have to pry open your lips to get the host in your mouth.

For many of us in the early 70s it was a relief to be able to receive communion in the hand. For one thing it seemed to us much more like a gift being received and accepted than like the action of a parent trying to put baby food into an infant's mouth. That being said it remains an option and many do indeed choose to receive on the tongue. I don't personally find that acceptable when I am on the receiving end but that doesn't happen often as I am usually the celebrant.

A religious woman I know once argued with me when she became aware that many of our seminarians choose to receive on the tongue. "You can't let them do that," she screamed. "Don't let them do that." Well, they can do that and I do let them do that if they choose to. I do not know the piety for making such a choice but it is indeed an option to receive in the hand. It is not mandatory.

What is interesting to me is how we make dogma of things that change more quickly than a flash of lightning. How one receives the host is of less importance than that one does indeed receive it. In the hand or on the tongue - Jesus is a gift in many different styles.

'Evil is DEPRAVED of meaning'

Joe, a former seminarian, is not a perfect speller. But he writes an occasional blog (The New Orthodoxy) with great thought and reflection and recently his topic was evil. Evil, he wrote is 'depraved' of meaning. Knowing Joe fairly well, I think he meant to say 'deprived' but what he published was more clever and perhaps closer to the truth. Evil is indeed depraved of meaning.

Depraved evil is all over the new film "The Butler." I have not been so disturbed by a film in a long time. The film relates a part of history that I lived through but wasn't always aware of individual events. I only read about most of them in the newspaper. "The Butler" reminds me why Jewish people constantly remind the world about the Holocaust. If I forget my American history and the evil that was racial discrimination in my youth, then I will live it again. In fact, there are indeed instances in which it continues to live like a monster that keeps reshaping itself into something more horrifying with each new incarnation.

The juxtaposed scenes of the butler's training for a job in the White House with those of his son's training as a freedom rider in the early 60s frightened me and made me squirm in my seat. All this was going on while I was safely attending the small Catholic liberal arts college from which I graduated. It was all mostly unreal to me and the subject of television news programs.

The saddest scene for me was the one in which the butler and his wife are invited to attend a state dinner instead of his participating as a butler. It reminded me of another dinner, one I attended as a 23 year-old seminarian, a dinner planned and carried out by the priests who staffed the college seminary I attended in rural Kentucky in 1965. The priest in charge of the kitchen decided that we seminarians would prepare dinner for our cooks in their honor. It went off fairly well except that many of the staff seemed embarrassed by the honor and one older woman who cooked for us could not eat the rich food we prepared. She had never been fed so well before.

The film reminds me also that neither history nor our lives are ever as simple as we later determine. This man served eight presidents. He watched as his father was murdered by a man who raped his mother. He lived through the civil rights era trying to keep his own children safe. He lived through the assassinations of three political figures during the 1960s as well as the Vietnam war in which his second son was killed. After all of this and the personal difficulties of his marriage, he sees the election of the first African American as president of the United States. This event is as much a statement that the butler's life has not been lived in vain as it is an historical event. The butler's life has been one of integrity and dignity. Moreover, an era in American history has officially ended even if there are still battles to fight.

Where is God in all of this? A visible crucifix on the wall of the bedroom of the butler and his wife signifies God's constant presence in the suffering of these men and women. Evil is indeed depraved of meaning. Evil cannot overcome the inherent goodness and integrity of men and women.

Living the grace of God

Recently photos of Popes John Paul II, Benedict XVI, and Francis appeared in the diocesan press with the following captions - under Pope John Paul II was the quote "This is what we believe." The caption summarizes to a great extent the direction of that pope's reign. Under Pope Benedict's photo was the quote "This is why we believe it." Again, to a great extent, the quote summarizes the direction of Benedict's papacy. Under Pope Francis' photo was the caption, "Now go do it."

If you have even a smattering familiarity with the homilies and talks given by Pope Francis, you will recognize the emphasis he gives in reminding Christians to actively live their faith. To love God, we must love our neighbor. To love our neighbor, we must love God. "To live" and "to love" are active verbs.

In the Old Testament Book of Joshua, the leader Joshua gathers the Israelites together as they are about to enter the Promised Land and reminds them of all that God has done for them. Yes, he says, you needed to extend yourselves and make your sacrifices and utilize your strengths, but none of that could have made any difference had they not cooperated with God's grace.

The Gospel of Matthew recounts the admonitions of Jesus to the Pharisees over their stubbornness regarding marriage and divorce. What Jesus emphasizes most is that living a life of fidelity to spouse or to celibacy is not possible without cooperating in God's grace.

No matter what our situation in life is, we will not find meaning or purpose or satisfaction if we do not give up our own agendas and cooperate with God's grace. This is especially true of young men who have their eyes on the priesthood or religious life. It is likewise true for women interested in religious life. Am I open to the grace of God or have I already decided what God has in mind for me?

We know what we believe. We may even know why we believe it. The hardest part is living it. Living it means cooperating with the grace of God as God reveals his grace to us.

Vanity of vanities

The Gospel of Luke proscribes the accumulation of wealth and possessions exemplified by the rich man who decides to tear down his silo and build a newer, bigger one in order to hold on to them. After 71 years I too wonder what I will do with all my possessions. But I can't touch my most prized possessions because most of them are attitudes, opinions and prejudices I've accumulated in that time. It is indeed difficult to give up such things without a sense of disorientation.

Where will I keep my anger, for example, if I have to give it up? See? I only thought about moving it to a safer place. Why not just give it up altogether? But how does one do that?

There are still people I hate and despise, people I think less of than myself. But perhaps that is a ruse. Perhaps it is myself I hate and despise. That would take some serious work rooting that weed out of my garden. Perhaps I am too lazy to even consider it. Do I come by it naturally? Did it get nurtured by repeated bad examples of others in my life?

There is a scene in the film "42," the biopic about Jackie Robinson, in which a young boy is taken by his father to his first professional baseball game. When Jackie Robinson appears at bat, scores of fans begin name calling (yes, the "n" word) and cursing Robinson to get off the plate. The boy looks around at his father and other fans and he too joins in the chorus using the "n" word. The boy simply mimicked what he saw his elders doing. What was his father's possession has become his own.

Jesus calls the rich man a fool for thinking he could hold on to his possessions. He would be called to his death that very night. I am in the process of ridding myself of material possessions. But what about the internal ones? Will I have to wait until I am called to death to rid myself of them?

 

Summer of surprises

Wheatland, Wyoming, is a center of ranching and farming about 75 miles north of Cheyenne and boasts the largest privately owned irrigation system in the U.S. At least that's what the town's web site claims. There are 3,500 people here and I am substituting for the pastor of St. Patrick Parish for two weeks while he is on Air Force reserve duty. St. Patrick's boasts a congregation of 200 families and many of them drive up to 25 or 30 miles to get to Sunday Mass. There is a mission parish at Chugwater, about 25 miles to the south. Only a dozen families make up its rolls. Several of them have keys to the church and I had to wait for them to arrive to get into the building. This is the summer and some are away. Our census this Sunday showed five people attended the service.

Chugwater has a very old building identified as Wyoming's oldest soda fountain. There is an annual chili cook-off held in June. I'm hoping to try both - a great shake and a bowl of chili. The temperature here is in the 90s and it is, of course, very dry. Surprisingly I am now hearing thunder as heavy clouds roll through but the area is not expecting rain. There is a drought going on and I heard one of the young lectors say last Sunday that she had only been able to bail eight bails of hay so far while last year she and her had bailed at least 100 by this time.

The work in the parish is minimal as there is a deacon who is actually in charge right now. As a result, these two weeks may be more of a retreat. That would be another surprise of the summer. I traveled to my usual place of retreat at Gloucester, Mass., at the end of May. But on the first full day of retreat I lost my balance while walking toward the beach and fell face first on rocks. I gashed my head above my left eye requiring stitches but also bruised my chest and left arm and broke the small finger on my left hand. My retreat was spent in the ER and going to an orthopedist. I have more time now for prayer and reflection than I did them.

The accident has changed all my summer plans. One of the good things about the forced slowing down is that I am paying closer attention to my reading, specifically the homilies and addresses of Pope Francis. He is very different from both Pope John Paul II and Pope Benedict XVI. Francis is the seventh pope who has passed through in my lifetime and I see the continuous progression in each. John Paul and Benedict were the intellectuals who gave substance to our faith but Francis is the pastor who is showing us how to be faithful. I emphasize "showing" as opposed to "teaching." I hope our seminarians are able to see how Francis is showing us how to use what John Paul and Benedict taught.

Lastly, I am elated that he has brought John XXIII forward for canonization. For my generation particularly Pope John XXIII was the refreshment that revealed to us that living our faith is the most important expectation of Christians, not just talking about it.

 

Listening at Eastern Point

Almost annually since 1988 I have been making my eight-day retreat at the Jesuit retreat house at Eastern Point near Gloucester, Mass. This year I hoped for lots of silence and time to listen to God. The second night I went for a walk down a path that separates a large pond from the cove that drinks from the ocean. Nor'easters last February spilled good-size rocks onto the path. At first I proceeded thinking I would locate the path. Almost immediately I lost my balance, fell forward, gashed my head above my right eye, came down hard with my left arm, broke the small finger of my left hand, bruised my hand and later discovered large bruises on my chest. That was five nights ago.

I spent four hours in the ER at the local hospital. The doctor that night was an Irish doctor who served me well even after I whooped loudly when she pulled my finger back into place. She also sewed five stitches in the gash. Today an orthopedist at a sports medicine clinic half an hour away put a cast on the hand after removing the splint and wrap that held It together from that night in the ER.

On Sunday the stitches are to be removed and I will hopefully be returning to Indianapolis. Eastern Point maintains the wildness and harsh beauty that has been here for ages. Each year I look for the pair of swans on the pond. One year momma swan swam right up to me on the shore to show off her seven babies (cygnets). Two chatty women walking by with a leashless dog were confronted by an angry momma swan when the dog took after it. I was betting on the swan.

This year the swans are gone. Two years ago a coyote reportedly got papa swan and last summer there was only momma swan. Now she has gone. Nor'easters have caused the ocean to intrude into the pond so frequently that it is no longer a fresh water pond. Retreat directors have explained that in recent years a couple of folks have had to be rescued from the ocean after being swept off the large rocks that line the coast. Apparently they either did not understand tides or know the power of water or didn't care.

I always enjoyed Eastern Point because it seemed to represent a harmony between God and nature. We humans were invited to enjoy it but also to respect it. Even my limited injuries suggest to me that perhaps I too have been taking it for granted. Genesis 1:28 reports God's command that human beings fill the earth and "subdue" it. Does that not mean we must get to know it, respect it, and learn from it?