God is Kind, and Asks the Same of Us (16.A)

“This is our time to be kind, to be calm, and to be safe.”

Kind, calm, and safe. We find Dr. Bonnie Henry’s catchphrase on T-shirts, posters, and coffee mugs.

Her wise words help us reflect on some key messages in our readings today. Because, for one thing, the readings tell us important things about God himself. Although he rebukes insolence, although he has the power to act whenever he chooses, God judges “with mildness.”

The first reading tells us that even though God is “sovereign in strength,” he governs us “with forbearance.” God is calm and serene in judging his people.

The psalm says that God is not only merciful but gracious. We often think of him as merciful, which indeed he is, but gracious not so much. But what a wonderful way of looking at the Lord—isn’t it a great compliment to say that someone is ‘gracious’?

The second reading says that the Spirit helps us, that the Spirit intercedes for us—what could be more gracious than that?

All in all, these readings paint a lovely portrait of a loving God. Then the Gospel adds another dimension, the patience of God. He may rebuke insolence and show his strength to those who doubt his power, but God is patient. Patient enough to let the weeds grow alongside the wheat. Patient enough to let his kingdom grow slowly from a small seed.

The third little parable really strikes home for me, even if it’s not as obvious as the first two. I’ve tried lately to bake some bread. But even the so-called shortcut recipes require patient mixing. Without enough kneading, the results are uneven and less than successful, although I never made bread I didn’t manage to eat!

Thus today’s Gospel gives us good reasons to stay calm in our relations with our kind and generous God—to rejoice that we are safe in God’s hands and to ask for his help in every situation.

But the Word of God today takes us even one step further. God is teaching us by example. If he will tolerate the weeds among the wheat, should we rush to isolate or exclude sinners? Many times, the Gospels tell us not to judge; today we’re reminded of that but also asked to put up with the weedy people in the Church, our parish, and even in other aspects of our lives.

The first reading states this simply: The righteous must be kind. The Book of Wisdom says that this is something God has taught us by example: “Through such works you have taught your people that the righteous must be kind.”

It’s interesting that the term “self-righteous” is almost more of an insult than unrighteous. The righteous person who is not kind is self-righteous. And haven’t we met those folks from time to time in church? They can do a lot of harm within the family of faith.

I don’t know about you, but my patience is running a bit thin these days. The pandemic has lasted far longer than I expected, and the fact that no end’s in sight is very discouraging. It’s easy for me to get cranky or judgmental.

So the timing of today’s readings couldn’t be better. This is a time to be kind, to be calm, and to be safe. Kind with others, as God is kind to us, patient with others, as God is patient with us.

That’s a formula that should bring calm to our hearts, and keep us safe in God’s love at this difficult time. He's even more reliable than the amazing Dr. Henry.

Parents, Teacher, Priests, Evangelizers: We Sow, but God Grants the Growth (15.A)

The delightful Danish comedian and musician Victor Borge decided to buy a chicken farm.

“But you don’t know anything about breeding chickens,” a friend argued.

“No,” Borge replied in his usual deadpan way. “But the chickens do.”

I’m not funny like Victor Borge, but I’m with him when it comes to any kind of farming or gardening. In fact, someone once accused me of having a black thumb.

So, whenever Jesus starts talking about vines or plants or ploughing, I can get a little lost. But today’s parable is simple and straightforward; even someone with a black thumb can understand what’s happening.

The seeds fail to produce for three reasons: they get gobbled up by birds, they’re planted in thin soil, or they’re choked by weeds.

Or, rooted in good soil, they produce an abundant crop. 

That’s what’s happening with the seeds. But what’s really happening? What’s the point of the parable?

Jesus usually allows his stories to speak for themselves. With the parable of the sower and the seed, however, he spells out the meaning. Today we had the choice of a longer and a shorter Gospel. I chose the shorter, because I didn’t want my homily to compete with the that one Jesus gives in the longer text!

Actually, my big reason was that sometimes we tune out words that are too familiar. So instead of reading the longer Gospel, I thought I would read you a passage from a New Testament paraphrase called The Message.

Here’s how it presents the thought of Jesus:

“When anyone hears news of the kingdom and doesn’t take it in, it just remains on the surface, and so the Evil One comes along and plucks it right out of that person’s heart. This is the seed the farmer scatters on the road.

“The seed cast in the gravel—this is the person who hears and instantly responds with enthusiasm. But there is no soil of character, and so when the emotions wear off and some difficulty arrives, there is nothing to show for it.

“The seed cast in the weeds is the person who hears the [good news of the kingdom], but weeds of worry and illusions about getting more and wanting everything under the sun strangle what was heard, and nothing comes of it.

“The seed cast on good earth is the person who hears and takes in the Good News, and then produces a harvest beyond his wildest dreams.”

A bit easier to figure out what the parable means, don’t you think?

But there’s still more to this story. Notice, for one thing, that there’s no criticism of the sower. Jesus doesn’t point out that he or she should be more careful, less wasteful with the seeds.

If you’re spreading handfuls of seed from a sack you’re carrying, you don’t have a whole lot of control where it lands. It’s not really the sower’s fault if some spills on the path and some lands where there’s more gravel than earth.

We naturally take this parable as a warning to ourselves, not to let the seed of faith be snatched away from us or choked by our worries and ambition. Fair enough.

But I’ve never forgotten a homily that pointed out how the parable is also a consolation to those who sow the Gospel with disappointing results. At the top of that list, of course, are parents.

I wouldn’t know how to research the subject, but I am pretty sure there’s never been a time in history when so many children of faithful and devout Catholics have stopped going to Church.

Yes, it’s hard when you invite someone to Alpha and they quit coming after four weeks, but it’s a whole lot harder when you’ve shared your faith with a child for eighteen years and he or she rejects it outright.

Today's first reading, Psalm and Gospel all remind us of the same thing: our job is to sow, not to make the seed sprout. St. Paul explains this very simply to the Corinthians “I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth.”

So discouraged faith study leaders, parish priests, teachers and parents all need to remember who’s in charge.  Pope Paul said, “The Holy Spirit is the principal agent of evangelization: … it is He who … causes the word of salvation to be accepted and understood.”

That doesn’t get us off the hook when it comes to preaching and teaching and reaching people effectively. But if we have done our best and taken our mission seriously, the rest is up to God.

 

We don’t give up inviting friends to Alpha or Discovery because our first efforts weren’t fruitful. And we don’t give up witnessing to adult children because they’re not coming to church.

The important thing is to keep on sowing. Like Victor Borge with his chickens, we don’t know what makes the seeds sprout. But God does.

Don't Let the Yoke Become a Burden (14.A)

I get annoyed when someone knocks priestly celibacy by saying an unmarried man can’t know anything much about marriage. That’s silly. A priest may not know marriage from the inside out, but he knows countless marriages from the outside in.

So even though I don’t preach often about marriage, I feel capable enough when I do.

But I’m not so sure of myself when it comes to preaching about suffering. I’ve suffered very little in my life so when I speak to others about their suffering, I tread very carefully.

A dear friend encountered great suffering this week, suffering of a kind that I’ll never face. I hope to see her in a day or two, so I was wondering what to say.

Of course, I knew enough to consider the good option of saying nothing. Sometimes there just nothing we can say to help. Just being there may be the only thing possible.

But what if she comes to Mass today or tomorrow? What would I want to say to her about the Gospel we’ve just heard?

I would want, somehow, to explain that these words of Jesus are not hollow—that they’re not meant to invite pious feelings in pious people. If they don’t contain some deep power to help and to heal, they’ll do her more harm than good.

At a time of deep pain, how can we respond to this invitation to come to Jesus with our weariness and our heavy problems?  In particular, how can his yoke lighten our burdens? That sounds like adding even more weight on our shoulders, already bearing the burden of our sorrow or distress.

Can you see the danger I see here? It wouldn’t be hard for me to make things worse for someone who is suffering, by suggesting that they need only put on the Lord’s yoke and carry on. Follow the formula, and all will be well.

If we're not careful, we can make the yoke seem like another burden. Small wonder I’m careful when I speak about suffering or to the suffering.

But despite these challenges, we can—and sometimes we must—get to the heart of what Jesus is saying here. So let’s try.

The first thing to notice is the unusual location of our Lord’s call to come to him for rest. Without any explanation or context, these words follow immediately after his passionate prayer to the Father. One minute, he is talking to God, the next he is taking to us, particularly those of us in pain or distress.

One scholar says today’s Gospel passage takes us into the soul of Jesus. We see the depth of his relationship to his Father expressed in words of gratitude. And then we are invited to the same unity with the Father through the Son.

We find rest for our souls not in the temporary relief of our pain, but in leaving it behind as we become one with Jesus in love—moving into an intimacy where our pain is his pain.

I said when I began that being there is sometimes all we can for a friend who is really suffering. When Jesus offers to ‘be there’ with us, it takes the ministry of compassion to a whole new level. Unlike any human friend, he knows exactly what we’re going through, and exactly how the Lord of heaven and earth will heal and console.

I don’t know exactly what my friend is going through, and I don’t know exactly how the Lord will heal and console her.  Maybe that’s why Jesus speaks about a yoke—clearly a two-person yoke that brings us right beside him as we plough on despite our burdens.

Maybe Jesus is just asking us to get close enough to hear him speak loving words of hope and encouragement that can bring our souls the rest they need.

The powerful image above is by Christian artist Maria Lang.  You can see her work and read her reflections here.