Twenty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time B
A
teacher saw one of her pupils
entering
the classroom with very, very dirty hands.
She
stopped him and said,
“My
goodness, Johnny!
Please
go and wash your hands!
What
would you say if I came into the room
with
my hands looking like that?”
Smiling
the boy replied,
“Well,
I think I’d be too polite to mention it…”
Have
you ever noticed that Jesus
has
a real knack for doing all the wrong things?
He certainly
knows the law
is to do no work on the Sabbath…
…but
he keeps curing the lame on Saturdays
and
telling them to carry their beds home (Jn 5).
Jesus
knows that hanging around
with
tax collectors and public sinners
makes
a person unclean
for community worship…
…but
he just keeps on having supper in their homes (Mt 9).
And
Jesus knows the practice of never eating
without
first ceremonially cleansing one’s hands…
…but
his disciples dine without washing up anyway (Mk 7).
It
seems like Jesus is always intentionally shocking his neighbors,
always
going against the grain.
Did
he have no regard
for
the revered customs of his human ancestors?
Why
would the Son of God be born a Jew
if
he only intended to challenge and overthrow
the
traditions of the religion? (cf. R. Knox)
What
Jesus observed in the Jewish people of his day
was
not a failing unique to that time or culture,
but
one which is common to the entire human race:
the
tendency to be too concerned about appearances.
Today,
we may not have the quite same hang-up
about
ritual purification as back then.
(Although—I’d
suggest—our constant use of hand sanitizers
might
come pretty close.)
But
in our consumer culture,
we
do worry quite a lot about how things look.
As
parents, no doubt, know from back-to-school shopping,
we
want to make sure our clothes have the right label.
We
want to make sure
that our hair is done like that movie star,
listening
to the right kinds of music,
using
the right cell phone, driving the right car.
Otherwise:
What will people think?
What will
people say?
We
can fall into the same pitfall
in our religious practices.
It
may not be that we want to
flaunt
our religiosity for others to see—
although
spiritual pride is a real possibility—
but
that practicing our faith
becomes a well-worn routine:
little
more than a habit,
even though a good one.
(I
think, for example,
of the Catholics I’ve met over the years
who
almost never get to Mass,
but
always, always, always
give up sweets for Lent.)
We
can observe the tradition
without
stopping to give much thought to its meaning—
without
letting it penetrate to the heart—
and
end up just going through the motions
Jesus
didn’t have a problem with observing religious traditions.
We know
that from a young age
he
went up to the temple to worship with Mary and Joseph.
We know
that ee participated in synagogue services on the Sabbath.
We
know that, even just hours before he died,
he
made provision to eat
a
sacred meal—the Passover supper—with his disciples.
Jesus
understood the vital place of ritual and custom
in shaping
one’s faith, in nurturing one’s faith,
and
in passing on one’s faith to the next generation.
(I
dare say he’d recommend that our age
become
more traditional, not less.)
But
while what can be observed on the outside has its place,
it’s
not nearly as important as what’s going on within.
That
stinging word—hypocrite—
one
who wears a mask; one who isn’t what he seems.
Jesus—I
believe—keeps bucking convention
to
wake us up to the crux of true religion:
that
our words and our actions match up
with
what’s really happening in our hearts.
It’s
quite right for us to be concerned
about
someone else’s opinion of us…
…just
as long as that someone else is God.
So
keep on washing your hands—
before
sitting down for dinner,
before
heading back to school,
before
coming here to Mass—
just
as your elders taught you.
But
make an even greater effort—with God’s grace—
to purify
your soul of all that would defile it.
Cleanliness
is, indeed, next to godliness
if
what it clean is your heart.
No comments:
Post a Comment