We blessed throats after Masses today (on this feast of St. Blaise) so that everyone could yell really loud at the TV during the SuperBowl. Enjoy the game!
Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time C
In a
previous parish assignment,
I became very good friends
I became very good friends
with
one of the local Protestant pastors.
Several
years after I moved out of that town,
he
was dismissed by his congregation.
He
hadn’t mishandled funds.
He
wasn’t involved in any scandalous behavior.
I’m
not aware that his preaching ever strayed into heresy.
He’s
so kind and discrete,
he’s
never shared with me their specific grievances;
I
sense that’s because he wouldn’t ever say anything
that
might paint his former parishioners in a bad light.
They
were, you see, his own people:
it
was the church he grew up in
and
where he had worshiped with his young family
before
he entered the ministry.
I
have discussed with him
(and
with other non-Catholic clergy I know)
the
differences in protocol and procedure
for
the hiring and firing of pastors.
Here
in the Catholic Church,
you’re
assigned by the Bishop, who has the sole say in the matter;
but
in most Protestant denominations,
a
pastor serves at the good pleasure of his flock.
Both
arrangements have their inherent dangers.
For
the Catholic priest, there’s the danger of complacency:
no
need to unnecessarily challenge yourself when your job’s so secure.
For
the Protestant minister, there’s the danger of compromise:
no
need to unnecessarily challenge the congregation
since
your job’s on the line.
(Of
course, the real problem
would
be to see it merely as a job in the first place.)
The
nineteenth century
Danish
philosopher and theologian,
Søren Kierkegaard,
noted
that many of the great minds of his generation
had
devoted themselves
to making people’s lives easier
by
inventing labor-saving tools and machines.
Kierkegaard
would say
that he, rather, dedicated
himself
to making people’s lives more difficult:
he
would become a preacher.
There
are plenty of times
when
I struggle to be that kind of “difficult” preacher:
struggle
against both complacency and compromise;
struggle
when I see folks on the wrong path,
and
know I should be shaking things up a bit;
struggle
to say the hard things
that
I believe you really need to hear,
but
which I fear you really don’t want to hear.
Now,
unlike my Protestant friends,
I
don’t much have to worry about losing my job.
I
do, however, worry about
the
Church’s tarnished credibility these days.
When
the news is still full of allegations and cover-up,
it’s
little wonder people would question:
By what authority do you say
such a thing?
Just who do you think you
are to tell us what to do?
And
I worry about turning people off or driving them away,
since
I may not get another chance to reel them in for Christ.
I’ve
been startled on more than one occasion
by
what little things seem to cause such major offence.
And—in
my weakness—I worry about being a hypocrite.
And—in
my pride—
I
worry about whether or not people like me.
I
worry…but I know it’s not a very credible witness
who
withholds the whole truth.
And
I know it’s false charity to keep my mouth shut
when
I could be encouraging you to grow and change,
or warning you about hazards to your immortal souls.
or warning you about hazards to your immortal souls.
When
Jesus called the hometown crowd to task—
pointing
out their lack of faith and narrow-mindedness—
we’re
told the people in the synagogue were “filled with fury.”
Is
it possible that a little fury now and then
might
do us all some good?
It
would certainly show that people are listening
and
taking the message to heart.
It
would show that people care enough
to
get passionate about what they’ve heard.
It
would show that the one in the pulpit
found
the courage to preach the truth,
even
though its not popular or “politically correct.”
It’s
not for nothing, I guess, that when calling Jeremiah,
the
Lord promises to make his prophet
“a
pillar of iron and a wall of brass.”
If
the faithful of Nazareth were ready to hurl Jesus off a cliff,
then
all who dare to speak in his name—and do so authentically—
ought
to brace themselves for some hostility now and then.
And
yet how often that’s the very thing we’re trying hard to avoid!
As
a bishop was once heard to lament:
“Wherever
Jesus went, there was revolution;
wherever
I go, they throw tea parties.”
So—you
may be wondering—
is
this a warning shot for some serious hellfire-and-brimstone
the
next few Sundays?
Not
exactly.
But
it is a call for some serious prayer.
Pray
for those of us entrusted with the task of preaching,
that
when we’re tempted to say what’s acceptable
or
what will get us accepted,
we
may remain steadfast and true to our calling.
And
pray for a genuine attentiveness and openness
for
yourself and for all who gather here,
that
Christ’s gospel may pose a real and constant challenge to us.
We’ll
know, my friends, that these prayers have been answered
when
the preaching makes all of our lives more difficult.
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