October 2008 Sanchez Commentaries & Sample Homilies

TWENTY–SEVENTH SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME October 5, 2008Caring for God’s VinePatricia Datchuck Sánchez

Isa 5:1-7Phil 4:6-9Matt 21:33-42

Recently, a friend who was about to leave for an extended vacation asked me to take care of her Bonsai plant while she was away. A cascading Japanese maple, her plant was as old as her oldest child, and she called it “her pride and joy.” Along with her plant, she brought her special small scissors for trimming, her watering can and a list of instructions regarding how much water, sunlight, feeding and pruning the plant would need. At first I tried to argue that my thumbs were anything but green: Just carrying a plant over the threshold into my home is tantamount to a death sentence. But my friend would not be deterred and she left her precious plant in my care.

Needless to say, the ensuing weeks were fraught with worry. In an effort to protect and preserve my friend’s plant, I fretted over every fallen leaf and was quick to moisten its moss-covered soil when it dried. With regret at having taken on such a responsibility for an object so loved by my friend, I found myself counting the days until her return and hoping that she wouldn’t be too disappointed or upset when she came to take her “baby” home.

This experience, though pale in comparison, might help to deepen our appreciation for the theme that underlies and weaves together today’s first reading and Gospel. Ostensibly, each reading centers on the care of a vineyard owner or tenants for the vines and vineyard that have been entrusted to their care. In truth, the message concerns the very special care of God for a precious possession: God’s own people of both the Old and the New Testaments. The people who are God’s special possession have been likened to a vineyard that was provided with every necessity. They have been endowed with every opportunity for becoming who they are intended to be — individual and collective images of God who reflect the goodness of God in the world.

Without holding back anything, God provided all that would be needed for the Israel of old and the new Israel to grow and to flourish so as to harvest in the world the good fruits of peace, justice and mutual love and service. Those so blessed were to respond to God by caring for one another and all others with a generosity that was worthy of their Creator. This mutual care can be described as a stewardship that must be exercised in fidelity and generosity until Jesus comes again for the final harvest of humankind.

In keeping with the challenge of today’s readings, each of us is to care conscientiously and even anxiously for that portion of God’s great vineyard that depends on us for survival. That “primary vineyard” may be family, relatives, neighbors and friends for whose needs we are responsible. More precious than any bonsai tree or other

material possession, the family is comprised of relationships that are in need of continuous tending. This vineyard of relationships is the place where we learn who God is, who we are and how unique each of us is in God’s good eyes. Here we learn that we are precious or not, loved or not; here we learn whether or not we shall know freedom, dignity and success. Family is the vineyard upon which all other vineyards of the earth will depend for sustained growth and survival.

As family members venture forth into all those other vineyards of the earth, some will discover that too many have been reduced to killing fields. In those vineyards gone fallow, there is death and no life because rights and freedoms have been strangled by tyrannical governments, by war, ethnic cleansing, famine, disease or poverty. In those vineyards, there is no fruit, but only the rotting decay of hopelessness. These sterile spaces salted by human sin have names; they are Darfur, Timor, Tibet, Myanmar, Congo, Ethiopia. Each of these names represents branches that have been wrenched from the vine, branches that are shriveling up. These branches are our brothers and sisters whose suffering should touch us all, compelling us to reach out to help.

What do the sacred texts tell us to do about these unholy places, these salted fields where life is no more? What does God’s word, if we take it to heart, compel us to do and to be? For an answer, we turn to Paul, who told the Philippians to keep uppermost in their minds what is true, honorable, just, pure and gracious. These are the qualities and virtues that will guide our stewardship of God’s vine. Thinking on these things, as Paul advises, will inspire all our loving and being for one another so that when the Lord of the harvest returns, he may find that good fruit has grown from the vine he first planted among us.

Isa 5:1-7Vines and vineyards figure quite prominently in both testaments as a graphic

means of expressing the relationship between God and humankind. Gail Ramshaw suggests that these images are striking (Treasures Old and New: Images in the Lectionary, Fortress Press, Minneapolis: 2002). Even though grain and bread are the necessary staples for existence, grapes provide the added joy of communal life. That Israel is not God’s field of grain but God’s vineyard suggests the extraordinary goodness of the people’s life with God. How significant that the God to whom we pray for daily bread has also been revealed as a vine. As branches on that vine, we draw not only the daily sustenance we need for survival but the continuous spiritual fulfillment we need to flower and bear fruit.

Fully aware of the significance of the vine for his eighth-century B.C.E. contemporaries, Isaiah of Jerusalem used that image to appeal for their repentance and return to God. Calling God his friend, Isaiah sounds like a best man defending the honor of a husband who has been wronged by an unfaithful wife. Isaiah’s appeal has often been called a “love song,” and many scholars are of the opinion that the prophet actually sang his message, thus intensifying its poignancy.

Although his love ballad begins very positively, citing all the care and love his friend has lavished on the vineyard, it quickly devolves into a harsh indictment. Similar to the parable that Nathan told to David (2 Sam 12:1-10), Isaiah’s song draws listeners in and secures their attention before delivering its harsh message.

Isaiah’s song was sung against the backdrop of a political crisis for the people of Israel and Judah. After king Uzziah’s death circa 742 B.C.E. (the same year that Isaiah

was called to be God’s prophet, Isa 6:1), Assyria’s plans for world domination were already being set in motion. With their oppressors looming on the horizon, the leaders of Israel and Judah were desperately searching for ways to shore up their defenses against invasion and occupation. But rather than advising the leaders seek out political coalitions with other nations (Syria, Egypt, Philistia), Isaiah called for greater fidelity to the one coalition that would truly preserve and protect his people — their covenant with God.

The people of God were in a covenant with the One whose doting love had provided for their every need (grain) and even for their pleasure (grapes), and they were to allow that love to shape and guide their lives. But when the divine vineyard owner came to take stock of their responses to what could only be described as generous efforts, what was to be found? To answer this question, the prophet drew on three powerful paronomasias. God looked for justice (mishpat) but found only bloodshed (mispah), for righteousness (sedakah) but was disappointed with outcry (se’agah). God had planted choice grapes (soreq) but in return all that was produced by a faithless people was wild or, more literally, sour and stinking, rotten grapes (sorek).

As Isaiah’s love song is sung today in our hearing, let us take heed of his words, remember the love of God for us and resolve to respond to that love in all truthfulness.

Phil 4:6-9Technician George Fuechiel coined the computer science acronym GIGO, short

for “Garbage in, Garbage out.” It refers to the direct relationship between data that is introduced into the computer and that which is produced by it. If erroneous data goes in, errors are produced; if the date is accurate, the results will be likewise. So it is with life. Integrity and goodness are to be learned from without and cultivated within, in order for these same qualities to be expressed in daily living. But if one consumes and is consumed by a steady diet of that which is unwholesome and unholy, the resulting spirituality will be distorted and unhealthy.

Like Jesus, Paul knew that whatever we human beings allow to take hold of our minds will eventually find expression in our words and actions. To that end, Paul called believers to think about good things and to maintain a prayerful relationship with God. In this way, it will be God, and not the pollution of a culture gone to extremes in every direction, who will guard the hearts and minds of the faithful. With God as the guardian of mind and heart, the believer will be possessed of a peace that, as Paul says, “surpasses all understanding” (v. 7).

Paul’s love for the Philippian believers is palpable in his letter to them. It is also easy to see his concern that the church he had established in Philippi should flourish. Fred B. Craddock describes the church at Philippi as “strategic for the whole Christian mission” (Philippians, Westminster John Knox Press, Louisville, Ky.: 1985). The city of Phillipi was located on the Egnatian Way, nine miles from the port of Neopolis, and witnessed daily the traffic of culture and commerce between East and West.

In Paul’s day, Philippi was a thriving Roman colony and home to a large number of retired soldiers. Proud of their Roman citizenship and official language of Latin, some in Philippi were decidedly anti-Semitic, and it was there that Paul first personally experienced the hefty weight of the empire. Along with Silas, Paul was charged with civil disobedience and was beaten and imprisoned. In a letter to the Thessalonians (1 Thess 2:2), Paul called his treatment at the hands of the Romans in Philippi “shameful.”

Despite the risk such visits incurred, Paul made at least two other trips to Philippi (Acts 20:1-6), so determined was he to foster the growth and fruitfulness of the vine that God had planted and he had tended. Paul’s words continue to tend the vine of the church.

Matt 21:33-42This parable was addressed to the chief priests and elders of the people and

delivered a sad commentary on the quality of their leadership. As stewards of the vineyard of Israel, they were to tend the vine by keeping the people alert to God’s word. By good example, they were to edify and encourage, but their leadership was wanting. As a result, the people were ill-disposed to recognize, and failed to welcome, the prophets God sent to them. Their treatment of God’s servants is well attested in the scriptures and is alluded to here.

Scholars agree that the first group of servants, mentioned in the parable represented the eighth-century B.C.E. classical prophets, e.g., Isaiah, Micah, Amos, Hosea, etc., and the second wave of servants mentioned were the later sixth-century B.C.E. prophets (Ezekiel, Jeremiah, etc.). After both groups were rejected, the vineyard owner sent his son, obviously a reference to Jesus. This part of the parable reveals the layers of development that accrued to Jesus’ teachings as they were handed on by the church. After the death and resurrection of Jesus, the parable was expanded to include the rejection of God’s Son as well as the manner of his death. Careful readers will realize that Matthew has amended his Marcan source (Mark 12:1-12) considerably. Of particular significance is the reference to the son being seized, thrown out of the vineyard and killed. Mark has: “They seized him and killed him and threw him out of the vineyard.” Matthew has chosen to include the reference to Jesus being led out of Jerusalem to Golgotha (outside the city walls), where he died for our sins.

Matthew (or the Matthean church) has also added the reference to the vineyard owner leaving his vineyard to other tenants who will give him the produce at the proper time. This addition reflects the conflict and eventual rift between the church and the synagogue of the 80s, as well as the fact that the church’s complexion was becoming increasingly gentile. As it expanded beyond Jerusalem and Judah, the care of God’s vineyard would be entrusted to other tenants, the disciples of Jesus, who would become its recognized stewards.

In the final verses of the Gospel, this point is reaffirmed as the Matthean Jesus throws open the doors of the kingdom to welcome anyone (regardless of ethnicity or religious heritage) who will welcome the son of the vineyard owner and take his words to heart.

Carl L. Schenck (The Abingdon Preaching Annual, David N. Mosser, ed., Abingdon Press, Nashville, Tenn.: 2004) advises against allowing any hint of anti-Semitism to creep into our interpretation or application of this parable. We are all religious leaders, insists Schenck. We are all to be mindful of Jesus’ warning, to cherish the vineyard of God and to be grateful for the privilege of serving in it until the son of the vineyard owner makes a return visit. Each of us has our own personal vineyards to tend. Our care for them will prepare us for tending the greater vineyard of all of humankind.

Sample Homily for October 5, 200827th Sunday in Ordinary Time

“Inside Our Dark Core”Fr. James Smith

Paul moves his people from anxiety to peace by way of the virtues. Centuries later, Dante wrote his epic to do the same for himself.

He begins the story at midpoint in his life. We would say that he had a mid-life crisis, when many people feel lost, when the success and achievement of the first half of life no longer satisfy, when the things that used to work no longer work, when the meaning of life has become blurred.

But that is a blessing, because we learn more from failure than from success. When we succeed, we have no reason to change the wonderful way we are living. But when we fail, we are enlightened to the fact that we have limits, that there are other, greater powers at work, that we are not the center of things.

When Dante and we and addicts hit bottom, we can begin the ascent; we can be enlightened. But slowly. When Dante looked up and saw a great light, he rushed toward it. He was beaten back by three beasts, three vices. Just when he thought he was lost, a guide came along. This means that we cannot save ourselves. We got lost precisely by following our own self. Saviors are always outsiders.

His guide, Virgil, surprises Dante by telling him that he must proceed toward heaven by descending the circles of hell. That is, he must confront evil at its source instead of trying to achieve a merely partial goodness. As he descends, and sees the horrible suffering of various sinners, he feels sorry for them, but Virgil dissuades him by insisting that real demons must be exorcised, not coddled.

When they finally reach the pit of hell, Dante is surprised once again. He expects to see a powerful evil force breathing flames. But Satan is waist-deep in a frozen lake, futilely flapping his once-glorious angel wings. Evil Satan has three heads, lampooning the Holy Trinity, and all six eyes emit a steady flow of tears. Dante discovers that evil is not orgiastic — evil is just plain sad.

That is worth a pause for our consideration. Individual sins can be seductive, but real evil is dull. On the surface, sins may look glamorous, but deep down, evil is ugly, faceless. Evil is actually nothing in itself. It is merely a perversion of goodness, like the rot of an apple. Evil has no power of its own, merely the exhaust fumes of goodness.

Having reached the source and depth of evil, Dante experiences an amazing turnaround. He gets away from the devil and out of hell by grabbing hold of Satan and climbing his hairy flanks. That is not only picturesque, it is a picture of truth. We cannot get out of the grasp of evil until we recognize it for what it is, rub our nose in it, grasp it, claim it as a real part of our self. Only when we squeeze evil into a contained core are we able to cut the cancer from our healthy body.

I hesitate to summarize Dante’s opus any more for fear it might discourage you from reading perhaps the greatest poem ever penned. I will only say that it tells us we must accept the evil in us, even the worst, even that which is uncontrollable in us. We must understand that the inner circle of our being is a veritable hell. That is where our demons weep in sad futility. But we can live with that. Because inside that dark core of our being shines absolute goodness: God.

TWENTY–EIGHTH SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME October 12, 2008Stop, Think, ListenPatricia Datchuck Sánchez

Isa 25:6-10Phi 4:12-14, 19-20Matt 22:1-14

Last Sunday, we listened as Paul told the Philippians to “Think on these things.” “These things” referred to all that is true, honorable, just, pure, lovely, gracious, excellent and worthy of praise. Paul understood that those things which occupy our minds also direct and inspire our words and works. By keeping these good things foremost in mind and heart, believers will become more attuned to the invitations and overtures of God as these reveal themselves among us.

At times, these invitations are quite overt and readily recognizable, as in today’s first reading and the Gospel. Both texts feature a banquet hosted by God; invitations have been extended, and it devolves upon those invited to avail themselves of the opportunity or not. Similar invitations are extended to each of us on a regular basis. Weekly liturgical celebrations in our home parishes and congregations reach out and invite us to come together to celebrate the blessings of God. Rich fare is available to all; free for the taking is the bounteous feast of word and bread and fellowship. Anyone who hungers can be fed here, and the feasting table will never be empty. As long as there are those who hunger for God, God will be there to satisfy all.

But we are free to accept these invitations and to avail ourselves of these weekly banquets, or not. Our responsiveness will depend on how sensitive we are to recognizing the movements of God; our sensitivity will be proportionate to the quality of our thoughts and ideas. Think on these things, advises Paul. Then your hungers will be genuine; your values will be true; your priorities will be duly aligned and you shall recognize God’s invitations to you.

God also extends more subtle invitations to feast on the divine blessings. A nearby park invites contemplation on the good things God has created to add color, joy and beauty to our lives. A glance out the window at the sky, a moment of listening to the birds, a pause to take in a sunrise or a sunset — all these creations are overtures of God, inviting us to feed our eyes, our ears, our souls on all that is good and beautiful.

Human attempts at cooperation with the divine creative power can also be opportunities for thinking on good things and feasting on the rich and varied banquets of God. Good music, art and literature draw us near to the One who has enabled the artist to hear with special ears and see with discerning eyes and so to cooperate with the Creator in bringing forth beauty. Think on these things, feast on these and thank God.

Unfortunately, some among us have become preoccupied with other things; our busyness takes us elsewhere. Like those in today’s Gospel who placed their means of livelihood (farm, business) above the call of the king, some of us too quickly find excuses for ignoring or refusing the invitations of God. Our concerns for wealth; our cares and worries, both genuine and needless; our careers; the needless baggage we lug around …

all of these often distract us and, as a result, we are not aware as we should be to the overtures of God.

For this reason, and with good wisdom, the church keeps us mindful of what is important. The liturgy calls us aside each week, calls us to pause a while and extricate ourselves from the burdens of daily life so as to simply be in God’s presence. These are gifts we refuse at our own peril. Lest our refusals or our excuses make us dull to the overtures of God, let us be resolved to listen, to hear and to come to the feasts that are willingly lavished on any who will respond to God’s invitations.

Isa 25:6-10Psychiatrist Viktor Frankl spent three years at Auschwitz and other camps during

the Nazi regime. He shared some of those experiences in a book that has become a classic text for psychotherapists, Man’s Search For Meaning (Simon and Schuster, New York: 1959). In his book, Frankl told of the starvation he and the other prisoners experienced, fed as they were on only a few ounces of bread and some watery soup each day. In their hunger, the conversation of the prisoners often turned to food. “One fellow would ask another working next to him in the ditch what his favorite dishes were. They would exchange recipes and plan the menu for the day when they would have a reunion — the day in a distant future when they would be liberated and returned home. It was natural,” wrote Frankl, “that the desire for food was the major primitive instinct around which mental life centered.”

This primitive, instinctive desire for food can also translate to the spiritual life. As is reflected in today’s first reading, food, and plenty of it, was a recognized expression of the generous love of God for Israel. Meals such as this one are frequent in both testaments, and those described in the Hebrew scriptures (Exod 16:6-26; Ps 23) prepared for those that would be hosted by Jesus in the Christian scriptures, such as the feast of loaves and fishes, the suppers shared with sinners, and ultimately the eucharistic meal.

Part of what scholars believe to be a literary unit (Chapters 24-27) within the greater work of Isaiah of Jerusalem (Chapters 1-39), this pericope represents a beacon of hope amid what is largely a series of judgments delivered against the nations and the unfaithful among the Israelites. Because God is merciful and generous as well as just, there will be a great feast for all peoples. Unparalleled in extravagance, the feast will also mark an end to suffering and a new beginning. As Christopher R. Seitz has explained, the web or the veil referred to in verse 7 symbolizes the vast destruction God has visited (through Assyria, Syria, Babylon, Egypt, etc.) on the people but is about to remove (Isaiah 1-39, Westminster John Knox Press, Louisville, Ky.: 1993). Although some have maintained that the web or veil represents spiritual blindness or hardheartedness, Seitz holds that it represents the concrete desolation that results from war. But God shall not allow such conditions to overshadow the people any longer. God will remove the web of death and, with it, the reproach that has reduced the people to tears and sorrow. In the age to come, death will be replaced by life, sorrow with joy and alienation with joyous reconciliation.

When Jesus came among us to reveal the saving plan of God at work in him, he frequently used metaphor (parables) as well as the reality of the shared meal to convey his message. Each week as we gather in Jesus’ name, our praying finds its answer in the context of a sacred meal at which he is both host and food for all.

Phil 4:12-14, 19-20While we cannot know Paul’s lifestyle before he met the risen Christ on the

Damascus road, we do know, by his own affirmation, that his encounter with Christ gave him a new perspective on life. For that reason, it mattered little to him whether he had an abundance or very little. In hunger and in satiety, in good times and in bad, he was Christ’s and Christ was his, and all else paled into insignificance by comparison. Spiritual writers of the past often referred to Paul’s state of mind as one of detachment. This writer prefers to think in terms of attachment. Paul was so given to Jesus Christ and so attached to the message and ministry of the Gospel that he saw all other things in terms of that essential relationship. If only we could be so attached to Christ that we would not do or say or decide anything unless we first filtered it through that attachment.

Evidently, the Philippians had attained some level of success in their spiritual attachment to Jesus, and Paul loved and praised them for it. He was also willing to accept personal help from them, which was quite contrary to his custom. As Fred B. Craddock has affirmed, the Philippians were Paul’s partners (Philippians, Westminster John Knox Press, Louisville, Ky.: 1985). In the Gospel (1:5), in prison and court defense (1:7), in conflict and suffering (1:30) — and, unlike all the other churches, in financial support of his work they shared repeatedly. Paul held them in his heart (1:7), he yearned for them with the affection of Christ (1:8), he loved and longed for those friends whom he called his “joy” and his “crown” (4:1).

In verses 15-18, which have been omitted here, Paul referred to the help they had sent to him through Epaphroditus as “a fragrant aroma, an acceptable sacrifice pleasing to God.” Paul believed that in helping him, the Philippians were assisting in the work of salvation to which God had appointed him; hence, their help was tantamount to a sacrifice to God. Paul’s insight encourages contemporary believers to support those who go forth to all those far and difficult places where the Gospel must also be preached. Helping them honors God, says Paul.

Paul’s insight into the passing value of material things should also inspire each of us to reassess our attachments and line them up behind the one attachment that will endure beyond the grave, our union with God in Jesus Christ and in the Spirit.

Matt 22:1-14If you have ever prepared an elaborate dinner for several guests only to have

many of them excuse themselves at the last minute or not show up at all, then you can summon something of the sentiment that the Matthean Jesus wished to stir in his listeners. In contrast to the joyous ambience evoked by the Isaian promise of a great feast (first reading), this Gospel pericope is fraught with conflict and an air of divisiveness. It is as if Jesus were saying, “Here I am standing before you, God’s very own personally signed invitation to the kingdom — and yet you are too busy to notice or too unwilling to care.”

Again, as with last Sunday, this parable was addressed to the chief priests and elders who because of their special role as leaders in the community were well prepared by centuries of tradition to recognize the invitation of God being extended in Jesus. These should have recognized the signals of the prophets (servants who were dispatched in two waves) and assisted the people in understanding their message. But assistance from their

leadership was not always forthcoming, and as a result, only some accepted Jesus as the way into the kingdom. Others did not. Consequently, other guests, not necessarily those who would have made society’s A-list, were invited to fill the banquet hall of the kingdom. Those who refused to honor their invitations experienced the consequences of their own choices.

Certain details in the parable reveal its layers of development as the message made its way through the generations of believers. At its initial level, during the ministry of Jesus, the parable responded to objections that Jesus associated with sinners; the parable warns the self-righteous that sinners will find a place at that great banquet table whereas those who refuse the food Jesus has to offer might not.

At the level of the post-Easter church, the parable offered commentary on the destruction of Jerusalem. The razing of Judah’s capital city took place about 10 to 15 years before the Matthean Gospel appeared in written form, and the event is less than subtly referenced in verse 7. In that light the enraged king who sent troops to destroy and burn the city was Titus, the Roman general who in the year 70 left Jerusalem in ruins. Unfortunately, some have interpreted this tragedy as the result of the Jewish rejection of Jesus, but it was probably the intent of the early church simply to include that historical moment in its commentary on the story of our salvation.

A second parable (vv.11-14), attached to the first, concludes the Gospel with a warning against undue presumptuousness. Although all are welcome at the great banquet of the kingdom, merely showing up is not sufficient. Proper attire (wedding garment) consists of living one’s faith in responsiveness to God’s promptings. Perhaps the man without the wedding garment could be compared to the foolish maidens who stood outside crying, “Lord, Lord!” (Matt 25:11) in an effort to gain entrance to the wedding feast. In both cases, a lack of preparation, or the absence of a faith lived out daily in responsiveness to God, resulted in a harsh judgment. As we hear this Gospel today, let us be warned; let us be wise.

Sample Homily for October 12, 200828th Sunday in Ordinary Time“Getting Liturgy Right”Fr. James Smith

The king had a banquet for his son. Mass is our banquet for God’s Son. But -- “Are modern people even capable of worship?”

That painful question came not from a cynic, but from Romano Guardini, a lover of the liturgy and one of our great spiritual writers. It is obviously a rhetorical question, since everyone has to worship, well or badly. But everyone knows that church worship these days, both Catholic and Protestant, is inadequate. Our relationship with God is surely more profound and more personal and more meaningful than the average service.

Whose fault is that? Partly the professional liturgists, who tend to get caught up in ancient, arcane rituals or modern, squishy theories. But mostly, Guardini insists, the fault is buried deep within three traits of modern humankind: lack of contemplation, lack of community and lack of body/soul integration. A word on each.

Lack of contemplation. Contemplation may be described as a long, loving look at the real. The real tree, the real person, the real God. You don’t have to understand the tree or analyze the person or pray to

God. Just look at the real until the real becomes part of you, and you become real.

The poet Rimbaud says: It is not that I think, but that something is thinking in me. Contemplation is absorbing the other like a sponge. We have to be schooled in silence; we must shut up and know that is better to hear “I love you” than to say “I love you.” We will not get liturgy right until our chattering prayer is muffled in the cloak of quiet contemplation.

Lack of community. The most obvious sign of our descent from community to individuality is in the titles of our magazines. We went from Life to People to Us to Self. Next might be Me Me Me. That is not all bad — we have to take care of ourselves — but we become less than ourselves when we deny our imbededness in the larger community. We admit our groupiness by taking group pictures, but what face do we automatically look for in that picture? We must learn to balance our being: All of us are because of you, and you are because of all of us. Neither is first, neither is better; both are essential. Humankind is like a humongous intertwining web: If it is touched at any point, the whole thing trembles. We will never get liturgy right until we all vibrate together.

Lack of body/soul integration. Or simply lack of simplicity, lack of integrity, lack of wholeness. We imagine that we are composed of two different things: body and spirit. We have to reimagine our whole self. Imagine a body without a spirit: That is a corpse. Imagine a spirit without a body: That is a ghost. Neither one is who we are. We are a single, simple, undivided being. That makes life exciting, joyful, celebrative. Only human beings are blessed with both the pleasure of bodily sensation, and the joy of knowing we deserve it.

Because God is spirit, we are prone to distrust our bodies when we worship. But to denigrate the body is like burning the house for the insurance. Ancient Heraclitus said that the senses are bad only to those who have barbarian souls. Our souls have been civilized by Christ; our bodies have been sanctified by Christ. Our whole being, body and spirit, is bound for glory. We will not get liturgy right until we feel ourselves to be the unified body and soul of Christ praying to the Father.

TWENTY- NINTH SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIMEOctober 19, 2008Piety and PoliticsPatricia Datchuck Sánchez

Isa 45:1, 4-61 Thess 1:1-5Matt 22:15-21

Ancient Israel was conceived as a theocratic nation, centered on God and devoted to a relationship with God that permeated every aspect of its existence. Witnesses throughout the Hebrew scriptures attest to the belief that Israel traced its origins to the call of God and understood that all subsequent events in its long history could be interpreted as turning on their responsiveness to that call.

For that reason, it followed logically that the Israelites regarded the conquest of Judah, the destruction of Jerusalem and the resulting exile not merely as a political calamity but as the consequence of a piety that God had found wanting. It followed also that the people in exile were led to see the hand of God at work in Cyrus’ rise to power, in his triumph over Babylonia and in his policy of allowing the exiles in Babylon to return to their homelands. In today’s first reading, Deutero-Isaiah shares this theocentric politics with his contemporaries by calling Cyrus, who was a non-Jew and a pagan, God’s “anointed.” Like his fellow Jews, the prophet believed that God was so invested in Israel’s history as to be able to direct any person or event that would best move forward the divine plan of salvation.

Unlike ancient Israel, contemporary nations adhere to a policy that deliberately distinguishes piety from politics. Contemporary believers tend to think of God and the things of God as extraneous to the workings of government. Most of us adhere to the political and legal doctrine known as “the separation of church and state,” a phrase first used by Thomas Jefferson in an 1802 letter to the Danbury Baptists. Even though a nation pledges to exist “under God,” great effort is made to foster the dichotomy between religion and politics so as to preserve the freedom and independence of each.

Despite these efforts, believers do not live their lives dichotomously. Rather, authentic faith demands to be brought along so it can speak its redeeming grace to every venue of the human condition. As people of faith, we cannot leave our beliefs at the door; on the contrary, these beliefs will enable us to make better decisions in political matters as well as in religions spheres.

With great enthusiasm, the Alleluia verse for today’s liturgy encourages believers to “Shine like lights in the world as you hold onto the word of life.” In other words, bring your piety into the world; let the truth of God’s word inform every human arena, including that of politics. This Jesus did, and this was the challenge he set before his disciples. When he was confronted on the issue of the lawfulness (the law here being the Torah) of paying taxes to secular authorities, Jesus responded wisely. Rather than set himself over and against empire, or separate himself completely from any sector of humankind in need of his redemptive power, Jesus acknowledged the existence of empire and encouraged good citizenship.

Give to Caesar the tribute that is Caesar’s, Jesus advised. Give to God what is God’s. These words of the Matthean Jesus strike the balance between piety and politics. It is as if Jesus were saying: Bring your best self, including your faith, prayerfulness and spirituality with you whenever you go and make that place and the people you encounter there all the better for having known you.

As I write these lines, the United States is mourning the loss of someone who bridged the gap between piety and politics by being his best self in both venues. Tim Russert, Washington Bureau chief for “NBC News” and moderator of “Meet the Press,” died suddenly at his job on June 13 and was buried on June 18. During the days after his death, friends and family, colleagues and competitors have attested to his influence on their lives. Regardless of their political or religious affiliations, all had high praise for this honest man. Christians and Jews, professed believers and agnostics were united in their opinion that this good man had made a remarkable impact on them. All, without exception, cited not only Russert’s political acumen and honesty but especially his faith, which, to all who knew him, was the obvious driving force in his life.

Russert was exemplary in his ability to discern the ways of God in his life. He understood how to give to Caesar and to God. He knew what it meant to be both pious and political without being false to either commitment. Today, Deutero-Isaiah, Paul, and the Matthean Jesus encourage us to pray that someone may emerge in the upcoming election who can, by word and example, lead us to do likewise.

Isa 45:1, 4-6An anonymous observation included in A Treasury of Quips, Quotes and

Anecdotes (Anthony Castle, ed., Twenty-Third Publications, Mystic, Conn.: 1998) concerns the Great Wall of China. Considered a wonder of the world, the wall is an immense structure. When it was finally completed, it seemed an excellent security system, but within only a few years, the wall was breached three times by an enemy. These breaches did not occur when someone broke through or scaled the wall, but when they bribed the gatekeepers. It was the human element that failed. What collapsed was character.

The fall of Israel and Judah can be attributed to a similar weakness of character, as can the downfalls of those several empires that took turns holding sway over what we now call the Holy Land. With the rise to power of each empire came the inevitable corruption that eventually led to its demise. At the time Deutero-Isaiah addressed the political and spiritual situations of his contemporaries, the Babylonian empire was being overtaken by Cyrus the Persian, circa 538 B.C.E. As a consequence of Cyrus’ victory, because of the benevolence with which he regarded the peoples conquered by Babylon, all exiles were liberated and allowed to return to their respective homelands.

Like his prophetic colleagues, Deutero-Isaiah interpreted the history of his people in terms of their relationship with God. For that reason, he regarded their exile as the deserved consequences of Israel’s failure to keep the faith, and he attributed their return home to God’s good forgiveness. Paul D. Hanson counsels against dismissing the prophet’s worldview as naïve (Isaiah 40-66, Westminster John Knox Press, Louisville, Ky.: 1995). Convinced that God is the Lord of all that exists, Deutero-Isaiah scanned the world stage in a process of discernment that combined deep faith with critical-historical knowledge. He recognized that their repentance had opened the hearts of his people to God’s mercy, and inquired whether there was evidence in world events of the one whom God would use as the agent of Judah’s restoration. His pondering led him to identify Cyrus as the one who would act on God’s behalf.

Never mind that Cyrus had loyalties to the god Marduk and did not even know, let alone worship, the God of the Israelites. Here he is called “messiah” by the prophet; that is, God’s “anointed.” In that capacity, Cyrus acted salvifically on behalf of the Israelites. Cyrus’ own perception of his role was not unlike that of Deutero-Isaiah. On a cylinder, Cyrus inscribed this description of his commission:

“Marduk … turned back his anger and had mercy on them. He looked through all the countries for a righteous ruler willing to lead … then he [Marduk] pronounced the name of Cyrus to become ruler of the world … he did always endeavor to treat according to justice those whom Marduk has made him conquer …” (Ancient Near Eastern Texts Relating to the Old Testament, J.B. Pritchard, ed., Princeton University Press, Princeton, N.J.: 1969).

We do not know if Deutero-Isaiah knew of Cyrus’ cylinder. What we do know is that the prophet was convinced God’s saving plan knows no boundaries or limitations. Anyone, anywhere, at any time can be instrumental in serving God’s purposes. To discern those purposes, believers must bring faith to their worldview.

1 Thess 1:1-5When Paul, in retrospect, surveyed the events that shaped his world and his faith,

he probably identified the death of Stephen and the ensuing persecution in Jerusalem not merely as human action but also as a divine catalyst for growth. Once the persecution intensified in Judah’s capital city, the disciples began to carry the good news into Samaria and then on to the rest of the then-known world. After his conversion on the Damascus road, Paul became one of the most traveled and prolific of those early missionaries. He carried the message of salvation to Greeks, Jews and Romans, and when he could not be personally present, he wrote letters to foster the faith of his converts to Christ.

Earliest among the surviving letters of Paul is one that he sent to the church in Thessalonica. At the time Paul wrote, about the year 51, Thessalonica was controlled by the politics of the Roman Empire, although culturally it remained a Greek city. Capital of the province of Macedonia and the seat of Roman government in that area, Thessalonica was also a port city on the Egnatian Way, and so a melting pot of commerce and cultures. Along with Silvanus and Timothy, Paul established a viable Christian community that was addressed as “church” (v. 1) by these three disciples in their letter.

In the ensuing verses, the church of the Thessalonians is further described in terms of their faith, love and hope (v. 3). Beverly Roberts Gaventa draws our attention to the manner in which each of these virtues is referenced (First and Second Thessalonians, Westminster John Knox Press, Louisville, Ky.: 1998).

An awkward expression in English, “work of faith,” as rendered in Greek, means “the work that expresses faith” or “the work that flows from faith.” “Labor of love” may refer to any number of actions performed for another out of deep affection. These labors can include anything from serving another at table to weeding the garden to doing the laundry, to acting as caretaker for the sick or elderly, to listening carefully as another speaks, to the gift of one’s very life. Paul could speak this way of the Thessalonians, says Gaventa (op. cit.), because their life represented an embodiment of Christian love. Paul and friends would later encourage them (and us) to love one another (3:11-13; 4:9-12) and conduct themselves in a manner consistent with that love (4:1-8; 5:15-22).

In the third description of their virtue, Paul referred to the Thessalonians’ “endurance in hope.” More than cheery optimism is called for here. By qualifying this virtue with the term “of our Lord Jesus Christ,” Paul alluded for the first time to the believers’ hope in the return of the risen, glorious Jesus. Anticipation of Jesus’ Second Coming and of all the joys that will be precipitated by his appearance continues to inspire all Paul’s readers to a worthy faith, a generous love and a joyful hope that will work together to create a community worthy of welcoming the Christ.

Matt 22:15-21Had this account of Jesus’ conflict with the Pharisees not been shortened, readers

would be further enlightened by one telling sentence. In verse 22, which concludes the

narrative, the Matthean evangelist tells us that Jesus amazed his listeners and “leaving him, they went away.” Mary J. Scifres suggests that Jesus’ being left alone constitutes a lesson in discipleship (The Abingdon Preaching Annual, Abingdon Press, Nashville, Tenn.: 2004). Such is the experience of those who know the truth and dare to speak it to others. Because his truth came from God, Jesus had no choice but to reveal it, despite the consequences. “How else,” asks Scifres, can we give that which belongs to God back to God but to share it with God’s people — even if it means standing alone when all is said and done?”

This controversy over the tribute due to Caesar and to God was one of a series of heated exchanges between Jesus and those who attempted to best him in debate. At issue here was the burden of the taxes levied on its subjects by the Roman Empire. These taxes were several: (1) income tax: equivalent to 1 percent of one’s income; (2) ground tax: a 10th of all grain and a fifth of all oil and wine were to be paid in coin or in kind to Rome; (3) poll tax: a denarius or day’s wage was exacted from all men ages 14-16 and all women ages 12-65. Those who questioned Jesus about the legality of paying taxes to Caesar were asked to produce the coin of the realm. Inscribed on the coin would have been the image of Tiberius Caesar, whose power was indeed formidable. But Jesus’ answer to his questioners puts Caesar’s power into perspective. While the coin may rightly belong to the emperor, and Jesus acknowledged that tribute in coinage was expected, all else that a person is or has or does belongs to God. Therefore Caesar’s role and the importance of empire fade into insignificance before the indebtedness in which sinners stand before God.

Tertullian suggested that just as the coin with Caesar’s image acknowledged his proper ownership, human beings, who are God’s coin, bearing God’s image, belong completely to God. This belonging makes a far greater demand than a few coins, however difficult these may be to surrender.

For many in the United States this year, surrendering taxes to Caesar lost a little of its sting with the issuance of the so-called stimulus checks. These checks, intended to boost the economy by easing the burden of rising fuel costs, etc., offer both a challenge and an opportunity. We who are God’s coin, created in God’s image, might share these checks with the needy as a way of reflecting the goodness and generosity of God. As always, the choice is our own: Whose image shall we reflect? In whose currency shall we trade?

Sample Homily for October 19, 200829th Sunday in Ordinary Time“The Thread of Gratitude”Fr. James Smith

Paul keeps thanking God. Gratitude is a second-stage virtue. We don’t usually intend to be

grateful the way we intend to be brave or generous. Instead, we rejoice in finding a parking place — and then give thanks. Gratitude is an echo of joy, an extension of happiness, a response to goodness.

In a sense, gratitude is an automatic reaction, a spontaneous response to an undeserved kindness. But if that is so, then why are we not grateful all the time? Why do we have to work at being grateful?

There are many reasons for our ingratitude. One is that we may not want the offered gift. Who would want that smashed worm eagerly extended by a 1-year-old? But then, what meanness of heart not to make a show of gratitude for that innocent intention.

We may not be grateful because gifts make us indebted to the giver. An older generation would respond, “Much obliged.” Many of us now simply don’t want to be beholden to anyone. We would rather do without than owe.

We may not be grateful because every gift is a connection between the giver and the receiver. That is why different gifts are appropriate to different relationships; an engagement ring commits one to a marriage relationship, for example, but we do not give personal gifts to mere acquaintances. Every gift, every offer, every kindness, every attention is a large or small connective thread to another person. An act of gratitude is an acceptance of that connection, an affirmation of that relationship, as intimate or distant as it may be — from a friendly smile to intimate sex. People offer themselves with their gift, and we respond or not.

We may not be grateful because we think someone owes us. After all, a gift is something unearned. But if we are entitled, then there is no call to be grateful. We need not be grateful for a paycheck or a diploma or a car; we earned them. They are due to us.

That is why gratitude is so difficult for modern Americans. The average American sees himself as a completely autonomous individual. She sees herself as entitled to good health, a nice job, a happy family, a rich and powerful nation to maintain and defend her entitlements.

The average American believes that he can take care of himself, is not in need of charity, can choose or reject any relationship that is or is not useful. If you are self-made and self-contained, what is there to be grateful for? And to whom?

That is a silly caricature, of course. No one is autonomous. We get life from parents, jobs from industry, food and clothes from stores, happiness from human experiences and love from someone else. We are far from in control: We cannot make it rain, contain a recession, stop a war or cure a cold. We are intricately, intimately connected to every part and person of the universe. The only question is whether we choose to acknowledge and affirm that relationship.

That is why being grateful is like believing in providence. God makes all things happen: The sun rises, the seasons change, the market goes up, your ship comes in. All that would probably have happened without your thinking of God. But why live in a mechanical, matter-of-fact world when you can believe that a personal God is right there in the middle of everything that happens? How different life feels if you believe that a personal God is showering you with all these gifts as a personal favor! Gratitude is a warm, heartfelt response to every gift in life — and everything, finally, is a gift.

THIRTIETH SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIMEOctober 26, 2008Passing Love AroundPatricia Datchuck Sánchez

Exod 22:20-261Thess 1:5-10

Matt 22:34-40

For many, today’s Gospel is a heady one. Lawyers and priests, scribes and orthodox observers of the Torah (Pharisees and Sadducees) had gathered around Jesus for a legal discussion. Their question about the greatest law was a favorite one in legal circles; parsing the prescriptions of the law was a pastime that enabled legal minds to parry and thrust, and if they were successful in the argument, to win the adulation of their peers. Discerning that one law from which all the others logically could be derived was a challenge they readily put to Jesus.

Jesus’ answer is familiar to all of us. Love God totally and love your neighbor as yourself. He was not content to allow their discussion to remain on the heady level of intellect or spiritual speculation. Jesus, through many other words and works, would translate his dual law into a proactive caring for all others. This sort of caring and love, Jesus would insist, is truly illustrative of the authenticity of one’s love for God.

In anticipation of today’s Matthean Gospel, the pericope from Exodus that constitutes today’s first reading spells out very clearly the quality of love demanded of God’s own. Because our ancestors in the faith had been bound to a loving God in a relationship called covenant, they were also bound to become more accurate reflections of their loving God in the world. Their status as a loved and chosen people, created in God’s image, made demands upon them that could not be fulfilled by an occasional charitable act, regardless of how generous it was. On the contrary, being God’s own meant living according to the demands of biblical justice. Fidelity to the covenant must be expressed in love for God, for all God’s people and for God’s gift of the universe. The Exodus author and Jesus, throughout his ministry, both affirm that this love is very practical. It addresses the needs of others. Their needs offer opportunities for saying “I love you” to God and also give us a chance to live that love with a genuineness that makes a difference in other people’s lives.

Love is, as theologian Emil Brunner once said, “Justice passed around” (Justice and the Social Order, Harper and Brothers, New York: 1945). No one may be overlooked in the passing around of this love that is justice. Besides citing the needs of widows, orphans and the poor as people to whom love and justice are owed, the Exodus author makes specific mention of aliens, or foreigners.

With immigration being a volatile issue at this time in the United States and many other nations of the world, it continues to be necessary to bring the word of God — the love and the justice of God — to bear on this aspect of the human condition. How serendipitous that the word of God is ever present to light our way and to inspire our attitudes.

What does that word of God say to us about the foreigners among us today? “Do not molest or oppress them. I will hear their cry. I will hear them, says the Lord, for I am compassionate.” Taking his cue from the scriptures, the late, great Walter J. Burghardt suggested that believers are to follow the example of God as represented in this reading (Justice: A Global Adventure, Orbis Books, Maryknoll, N.Y.: 2004). This would include seeing immigrants with the eyes of God, who created each and every one of them. Though we can sometimes be dim or misshapen reflections of God, we are also precious in God’s eyes — all of us, including the immigrant.

Burghardt further insisted that we need not agree with the immigrant, praise the legal immigrant’s initiative or applaud the undocumented alien’s illegal border crossing. What I may not do in biblical and Christian justice is turn my back on them, legislate against their children or refuse them medical care or sanctuary. Justice demands that I reach out to the stranger in trouble, the despised, the bedeviled, the lonely, the unloved, the immigrant. Biblical justice means hospitality and caring and, when necessary, protection and defense of their rights.

Near the end of his Gospel, the Matthean Jesus will make it clear that he proudly wears the disguise of the strangers and the poor in our midst. We, for our part, are called to recognize and tend to these precious ones as Jesus would. As Burghardt has reminded us, our “welcome to them may very well be the prelude to God’s grace,” for them and for us.

Exod 22:20-26Israel was not the only nation with legislation intended to protect the poor and

disadvantaged. Other cultures in the ancient Near Eastern world had passed similar laws. However, as is noted in A Theological Introduction to the Old Testament, the frequency of these laws in the Old Testament and the intensity with which they are presented bears witness to their significance for both God and Israel (Bruce C. Birch, Walter Brueggmann, Terence E. Fretheim, David L. Petersen, Abingdon Press, Nashville, Tenn.: 2005). These laws are fundamentally grounded in God’s own action on behalf of the Israelites enslaved in Egypt (v. 21; Deut 10:17-19). Caring for the needy was regarded as a theological matter for Israel; these commands were not handed down from any civil court. Rather, caring for others was the only fitting response to a God who had set the example for care and love.

Those singled out for love and care in this pericope were the most vulnerable in the ancient world. Strangers lacked the protection of tribe or clan. Widows and orphans were defenseless without a husband or father to protect them and speak out on their behalf. Those who were forced to borrow in order to survive were fair prey to the unscrupulous. As Brevard S. Childs has explained (The Book of Exodus, The Westminster Press, Philadelphia: 1974), the vicious nature of moneylending is more than clear from other references to this practice (Lev 25:35-37; Deut 23:20-21; 1 Sam 22:2; 2 Kgs 4:1; Ps 109:11). Rashi, the preeminent French biblical commentator from the Middle Ages, once noted that the Hebrew root of “interest” is nsk, which means “to bite.” It resembles, said Rashi, “the bite of a snake which inflicts a small wound in a person’s foot which he does not feel at first, but all at once, it swells and distends the whole body up to the top of the head. So it is with interest.” Rashi’s analogy could readily be applied to all forms of social injustice. Besides inflicting a fatal wound on those who are its victims, injustice perpetrated on the poor and helpless also affects the rest of society. Like a festering wound, wrongs that go unanswered will surely rot away the very fiber of a culture that tolerates such evil. If measures are not taken on behalf of God’s least ones for God’s sake and for theirs, perhaps the desire to survive might move humankind toward a more humane treatment of those who are so much in need of our care.

1 Thess 1:5-10

Although the word “catechist” is not spoken in this excerpt from Paul’s first pastoral letter, it is clear that the apostle was charging his readers with the ministry of catechesis. From the Greek katechein, catechesis means “to echo the teaching” or “to resound.” Just as a tuning fork, when struck, will cause another fork of the same frequency to sound, so should the faith in the heart of a believer resound, or echo the teaching of the Good News in the hearts of others. It was Paul’s expressed hope that the process of catechesis begun in Thessalonica would go forth to all of Macedonia, to Achaia and to every other place where believers would venture.

To his credit, Paul could sincerely claim to have begun echoing the Good News by preaching in Thessalonica. Along with Silvanus (also called Silas) and Timothy, Paul braved rejection and even hostility in order to introduce the Greeks and Jews in that Greek city to Christ. Because of the genuine quality of his ministry, Paul could honestly invite his readers to imitate him (v. 6). While this invitation may sound strange to contemporary readers of Paul for whom imitation smacks of disingenuousness or unoriginal play-acting, it was not so for Paul’s earliest readers.

In Paul’s day, a wide variety of teachers invited others to make their personal example the guide for their lives. Benjamin Fiore insists that if Paul had not invited such imitation, he may have appeared to his contemporaries as a person who knew himself unfit as a teacher (“The Function of Personal Example in the Socratic and Pastoral Epistles,” Analecta Biblica, 105. Biblical Institute Press, Rome: 1986).

Imitating him, the Thessalonians were to live in such a manner as to induce others to imitate their good efforts at living the Gospel. Beverly Roberts Gaventa, referencing Rudolf Bultmann, suggests that even the way in which that early Christian community received the Gospel (with joy from the Holy Spirit, v. 5) has itself become a proclamation (First and Second Thessalonians, Westminster John Knox Press, Louisville, Ky.: 1998). Just as Jesus the proclaimer became the proclaimed, the imitators here become the imitated, the evangelized become the evangelists. So it continues through the generations of believers. But not all have been worthy of imitation. Recall Jesus’ warning to his disciples regarding the teachers of the Law and the Pharisees: “Do as they say but not as they do” (Matt 23:2-3). Some of the contemporary leaders in the church could evoke similar warnings. Together, the words of Jesus and of Paul invite each of us to consider the witness we offer to others and whether we should be held out as a good example for imitation, or as a bad example from whose mistakes others should learn. Matt 22:34-40

As referenced previously in this commentary, theologian Emil Brunner once said, “Justice is love passed around.” This challenging truth invites believers to consider where such justice and love are learned. Besides the home, where all good growth should begin, justice and love are probably best learned at liturgy. There, in the context of Word and Bread, sinners learn God’s justice and God’s love. Each week, the praying assembly gathers to celebrate these gifts, to be nurtured by them and to make them their own. Then, as the assembly goes forth from liturgy into the life that is lived outside the sanctuary, all are charged to go forth to love and serve God and one another. In other words, all are challenged to pass around the love that is justice.

From the manner in which he exercised his ministry, we can deduce that Jesus understood the love due to God and to neighbor in terms of justice. Biblical justice, or

fidelity to the demands of a relationship, was the principle that governed all his words and works. His relationship with God as a Son to a Father motivated Jesus to look upon and love all others as his brothers and sisters. Our relationship with Jesus challenges us to follow his lead in loving and caring for one another.

Other teachers prior to Jesus had paired the command to love God and to love one’s neighbor, but his command was unique in that he put these two laws on the same level and defined them as mutually interdependent. Earlier in the Gospel, the Matthean Jesus made it clear that without this interdependent loving and caring, authentic liturgy is not possible (Matt 5:23-24). Leave your gift at the altar, the Matthean Jesus specified, and only when there is peace and reconciliation between you and your brothers and sisters, should you return. Only then will liturgy be true and not a lie.

To maintain the practical aspect of passing around the love that is justice, Douglas R.A. Hare reminds us that the primary component of biblical love is not affection but commitment (Matthew, Westminster John Knox Press, Louisville, Ky.: 1993). Warm feelings may well up within us when we consider the mutual love we share with God, but warm feelings must be supported by a deliberate and daily commitment to our neighbor. This will require that each of us finds our own very practical way of living out Jesus’ dual commandments. In her book You Learn by Living (Westminster John Knox Press, Louisville, Ky.: 1983), Eleanor Roosevelt offered her voice and her practical approach to loving others: “Approach each new person you meet in a spirit of adventure.” Try to discover what he/she is thinking and feeling; to understand as far as you can their background, the soil in which their roots have grown, the customs and beliefs and ideas that have shaped their thinking. If you care enough to make the effort, you can establish an understanding relationship with people who are entirely outside your own orbit.” This Jesus did by becoming one of us. We who profess to love and believe in him are called to do likewise.

Sample Homily for October 26, 200830th Sunday in Ordinary Time“Love Connections”Fr. James Smith

We cannot define love, but we know it when we see it. So, instead of wasting time arriving at a definition, just think of someone you love. You know how it feels, what it is, what it demands, what it does to you.

Now think about loving God. That is harder because God is not just one of the many people we love, not even the most important one or the one who demands our whole heart. Still, God is not just the sum total of all other love. God is a person, in a way, so we must love God personally, on purpose, even if we do it through love of others.

The command to love God is not actually a command to do something; it is a command to be something. It is the expression of who we are. We are love-creatures, creatures created by God to love God. That is our whole essence, our purpose, our goal. Everything outside of that is useless. We spend a whole lifetime getting our various loves in order so that when we die, we can love God with our whole being.

The command to love our neighbor is also more than a command to do something — to treat them justly or loyally. Just as we were created with a propensity to love God, so we are created with a disposition to

love everyone. You know what love is in this case, also. To love someone is more than to wish them well, to do them good. All those actions are merely later expressions of a prior attitude toward them. First you love them, then you do the right thing.

Science tells us that every human being originated from a single loving couple in Africa. That means that humankind is not just a category; humanity is not just a nice idea: It is a physical fact. All of us are indeed bonded together by flesh and blood. We interact as parts of one large family.

And there is an even greater bond: the attachment of each one of us with Christ. It is also physical, but once removed. When each of us was born, we took on a specific quantity of human flesh. But Jesus is divine, so he is capable of supporting an infinite amount of flesh. So when he was born, he assumed all human flesh, became connected with every human person. We are bound to him and to each other.

To emphasize how real this unity is, Paul compared it to a physical body in which each member is organically connected with the whole while having a personal function.

Let’s try a more modern image. Picture yourself as a computer. Now imagine that every one of the 6 billion people on earth is connected to you. But your monitor lights up only when you make a connection with someone. Now. When was the last time you thought of anyone in Australia or Asia? Billions of people reside in the blackness of your monitor.

Millions of Europeans have not been encouraged by our kind thoughts. Millions of Latinos have not been inspired by our prayers. Millions of Africans have not been fed with our alms. Even most of America is dark on our screens, except for a relative here or there. Most of the world does not exist for us because we do not love it.

The life of the world is lessened by our lovelessness. But that is not all. That dark monitor is an EKG. Those billions of disconnections weaken our heart, decrease the flow of love inside us. Remember, love is not just something we do out there — it is what we are in here.