Twenty-Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time B
I remember watching the premier
a couple of years ago after the Super Bowl
and thinking, “This is going to be pretty good!”
In case you haven’t watched it, the premise is that the boss—
and we’re talking about the CEOs of restaurant chains,
major resort hotels, manufacturing companies,
cruise lines, even the mayor of Cincinnati—
all these executives go undercover,
leaving their cushy corporate offices and disguising themselves
to work on the gritty front lines of their industries.
to work on the gritty front lines of their industries.
In
that very first episode,
the
president of
a waste management business
a waste management business
gets
himself “hired”
by his own company
at the ground level:
at the ground level:
picking
up garbage,
sorting through recyclables,
even
cleaning porta-potties.
(I
suspect there are
quite a few people
quite a few people
who’d
like to see their boss
clean a porta-pottie!)
He’s
not much good
at all this, however,
at all this, however,
and
finds himself getting fired
for the first time in his life.
The
idea, of course, is that these bosses,
by
getting their own hands dirty,
will
understand their company’s operations and employees
a
whole lot better because of this experience…
…not
to mention, by their misadventures,
get
you to tune in week after week.
If
you think about it,
the
gospel could easily be renamed, Undercover
God.
We
profess in our Creed that Jesus Christ is the Son of God,
that
he is “consubstantial with the Father”:
Jesus
is of the same stuff as God.
And
we also profess
that
Jesus is “incarnate of the Virgin Mary”:
he’s
of the same stuff as his human mother,
the same stuff as us.
We
believe that almighty God
has come undercover as an ordinary man
to
experience everything that we do—even death.
Jesus
is trying to prepare his Apostles for this.
We’ve
just heard him predict for a second time
that
he will be betrayed, will suffer, and will die.
But
notice how dense those Twelve seem to be.
True:
Jesus hadn’t yet completely blown his cover;
they
didn’t yet recognize his divinity.
have the benefit of Easter,
didn’t
yet know
what “to rise on third day” really meant.
Nevertheless,
isn’t it a bit alarming
that the Lord’s inner circle—
when they hear
when they hear
of his impending Passion—
can
only think about
who’s most important among them?
They
appear consumed
by the jealousy and selfish ambition
of
which St. James warns—
and
which still cause
such scandal and division to this day
when
they’re found in the Church.
But
maybe things
are not as they would first seem.
Maybe—
given
Jesus’ repeated talk of dying—
the
Apostles are just doing
the logical, practical thing
and
trying to figure out
who should be in charge when he’s gone.
That
would certainly help to explain not only their behavior,
but
Jesus’ response.
Jesus
wants to be sure the Twelve understand
why
he—though innocent—will be beset by the wicked.
They
won’t have all the pieces until later, after his resurrection,
but
he wants them to eventually grasp
that
God really, truly came as man.
And
so Jesus tells them that whoever aspires to first place
must
be willing to take the last—
must
do just as he did, and be an “undercover boss.”
As
someone once insightfully put it,
“Jesus
took the last place so utterly
that
no one has ever been able
to get it away from him.” (cf. H. Huvelin)
To
drive his point home, Jesus pulls a child into the circle.
I
cringe every time I read or hear this gospel passage,
because
the child is referred to not as “him” or “her but “it.”
Our
world is dehumanized enough;
must
we refer to children in the same manner
as
we would our possessions or our pets—
things
to dispose of as we please?
But
that’s what’s in the original Greek…
…because
that was the place of children in society.
Legally,
a young child was considered on par with a slave.
They
were the first to suffer in the community
when
it was struck by war, famine, or disease.
While
we look at that child in Jesus’ arms
as
a symbol of perfect innocence and utter humility,
the
Apostles likely saw a symbol of complete powerlessness.
And
yet, if we’re honest with ourselves…so it remains today:
almost
eight million children die each year
before
their fifth birthday due to poverty;
one
hundred and fifteen thousand children
die
before birth every day because of abortion.
For
Jesus to embrace that little child
should
capture our attention just as much
as
if we discovered our boss
picking up our trash at the curb.
Jesus
presents those of us
who would follow him
with
the challenge to serve
the very least in our midst:
those
without power or status;
the
unwanted and neglected,
the abused and ignored;
the
outcast, the sick, the sinner.
Such
are the ones
with whom Jesus most identifies—
not
the popular
nor the wealthy nor the strong.
Born
in a borrowed manger,
dying on a criminal’s cross:
thus
did Jesus take the last place;
thus
did God go undercover.
Are
we willing to seek and to serve him there?
Because
that, my friends,
is where we’re sure to find him:
Whoever receives one child
such as this in my name, receives me;
and whoever receives me, receives not me but the One who sent me.
We will soon receive God “undercover” in the Eucharist:
the Savior of the world under the appearance of bread and wine.
May his hidden presence in this Sacrament
open our eyes to recognize the Lord
when he’s hidden in our neighbor.
the Savior of the world under the appearance of bread and wine.
May his hidden presence in this Sacrament
open our eyes to recognize the Lord
when he’s hidden in our neighbor.
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