At the Masses last
week, day after day we heard the prophet Amos denouncing Israel for her sins. Those Old
Testament readings prompted me to give a slightly tongue-in-cheek homily on
Thursday.
I told the congregation that
I knew just how to get moved if I ever got tired of being pastor at Christ the
Redeemer (not that it could ever happen!).
I said if I wanted a change, I could make it happen in just three weeks.
The first Sunday I would
preach a very tough homily on contraception. On the second I would preach an
uncompromising homily on same-sex marriage and the homosexual lifestyle. By the
second week I’d probably be run off the property—either by angry Catholics or
the human rights police— but if not, I’d preach a third homily about a
collection of other Church teachings on private morality or social justice.
That homily made one sincere
parishioner ask me “well, why aren’t
you preaching those bold homilies?”
I explained that I was exaggerating
a bit, and that I do actually speak about tough topics from time to time. But I
added that the main reason I don’t give fire and brimstone homilies is simply
that I preach in front of a congregation that includes many children. Sometimes
I wish we had a Liturgy of the Word for all those under 16, giving priests the
freedom to speak plainly and boldly about certain topics.
The first reading today
presents the prophetic call of Ezekiel, who doesn’t have the luxury of making
any excuses. He isn’t given any choice in the matter. God doesn’t seem
concerned about the results of Ezekiel’s preaching. All God wants is for Israel
to hear His word. The rest is up to the people, not the prophet.
You and I are in the same
boat in the modern world. We’re pretty sure how our friends and neighbours—and even
our children—are going to react when God sends us to speak His word to them.
But it’s not really our problem: the end result, the free response of others to
the Christian message, is God’s concern.
The same thing comes across
in today’s Gospel. Jesus is also a prophet, and like many of the Old Testament
prophets, he will be rejected and killed. Even the residents of Nazareth, who
know him and his family, take offense at him.
The message of these two
readings is simple enough. Don’t think you can be an authentic witness to
Christ without causing offense. It’s neither possible nor required.
In last week’s I mentioned
the Canadian bishops’ statement lamenting the legalization of marijuana. During the homily a young man whom I know and
like gave me a look that could kill straight across the church. And, to his
credit, after Mass he told me what he thought.
Now I hasten to add that the interaction
hardly made me feel like Ezekiel or Amos or Jesus. But I still have to say I preferred hearing “great
homily Monsignor” to the conversation I had with the young man.
The point is, it doesn’t
matter. Watering down or avoiding the truth in order to avoid negative
reactions is not what God wants us to do—whether we are pastors, called by
ordination to preach, or lay Christians, anointed to the prophetic office
through baptism and strengthened for it by confirmation.
When I explained to the
parishioner last week that my preaching is restrained by the presence of
youngsters, I added a second reason—that Catholics expect the Sunday homily never
runs longer than ten minutes. You can’t even warm up in ten minutes if you want
to preach a convincing sermon on contraception or other complex moral topics.
But if I’m really honest with
myself, a lack of courage does have something to do with it. I’m afraid of the
reaction from some, or unwilling to face the rejection that goes with a prophet’s
job.
So perhaps we could both work
towards more prophetic homilies in the parish. I could learn to be more like
St. Paul, content with weaknesses, insults and persecution. And we could all pray
for open hearts ready to hear without offense the prophetic message of Jesus.
Whether we’re fearful
speakers or rebellious listeners, God’s power and grace are sufficient to overcome
our weakness.
No comments:
Post a Comment