God too is angry...

I began my sermon by reading Archbishop Miller's bold and fatherly letter to us. You can see it here. 

Dear brothers and sisters,

I really have no idea what to say to you this morning. Each of you will have your own reaction to last week’s horrifying news about the extent of abuse and cover-up in parts of our beloved Catholic Church.

For some, that adjective “beloved” may not even fit any more.

So all I can really do today—I will speak about this tragedy again next week—is tell you about my experience.

The Pennsylvania grand jury report came out while I was in the U.S.  But I was in a monastery, shielded from TV and newspapers, and even from much conversation. As a result, it was the Word of God that shaped my thoughts about these awful revelations.

And what I thought about wasn’t so much my reaction as God’s reaction.

Last week, the monks were already reading each morning from the Prophet Zechariah. He spoke God’s prophetic word to Israel 2500 years ago - but what we heard on Thursday morning could have been written yesterday.

The passage (Zech. 11:4 - 12:8) is God’s judgement on bad shepherds, on those who do not feel for their flock. (Let’s remember that our English word pastor, applied to both bishops and priests, is the Latin word for shepherd.)

Zechariah’s prophecy even contains words we later hear in the Gospel of Matthew “So I took thirty pieces of silver and threw them into the treasure in the house of the Lord.”  Could there be a more damning judgment than to associate the unfeeling and uncaring shepherd with the traitor Judas?

The reading was long and painful. It culminates with these words:

 “Woe betide the worthless shepherd who abandons the sheep!

May a sword fall on his arm and on his right eye!
May his arm be all shrivelled,

and his right eye be totally blind.  

Are we angry? Not so angry as God is.

No one listening to Zechariah could possibly have missed the point, but the monastic liturgy carried on relentlessly; a homily from St. Gregory the Great followed the scripture reading.

The homily begins by pointing to the Good Shepherd, who is Christ himself, who lays down his life for his sheep and who feeds them with his body and blood, as we heard in today’s Gospel. But then St. Gregory, who was Pope in times as turbulent as our own, turns to bad shepherds—whom he calls hirelings, the mercenaries who abandon the flock when the wolf approaches.

It was stunning to hear this line: “He flees because he has seen danger and wants to keep silence – because in fact he has hidden himself under a veil of it.”

A veil of silence! More than fourteen centuries ago.

The indictment continues: “… his concern is with mere outward appearance and creature comfort; not for him to fret about his flock, their discomfort and their inward suffering.”

Are we deeply wounded? No more than the good shepherds, the good bishops who, like St. Gregory, who stood their ground against evil regardless of the cost.

Using ancient words to address these revelations may seem out of touch to some. Yet I believe that the Word of God—and especially the Old Testament stories of repeated infidelity—is the best lens through which to view this crisis in the life of the Church and in our lives.

And St. Gregory reminds us that bad shepherds are only part of the story. He says “there is another wolf which every day, without ceasing, tears, not at our bodies, but at our minds. It is the evil spirit. All unbeknownst, he stalks the tail end of the faithful, seeking out dead souls. So likewise the wolf scatters the flock when the devil harries with his temptations the ranks of the faithful.”

We can’t allow the evil one to use scandal to destroy our relationship with Christ, the Good Shepherd.

I was moved by the reaction of one woman after the Protestant superstar pastor Bill Hybels was accused of abusing a woman. After attending church with her 8-year-old son, she said “I never had a personal relationship with any of those pastors, but I have a personal relationship with God.”

Angry and wounded though we are, we must look to our own personal relationship with Jesus, asking right here at Mass for spiritual food, the living bread, that will sustain us in a difficult journey of Church reform and personal renewal.

Let me end on a personal note. Although I was away all week, I’ve already heard from some of you. One phone message touched me deeply, and I’d like to share it with you:

“I’m away on holidays, and I just want to tell you—especially in light of everything that happened in Pennsylvania and everything—that I’m worried about the Church.   I’m going to be coming to you when I get back about how I can help more to get our youth involved.  I’m not disillusioned at all but I’m disappointed in a lot of stuff that happened and I want to be part of the solution. If you could help guide me on how to be a better steward, I really want to be that positive influence.”

God is not finished with us, or with his Church.