On the way out of church this morning, one fellow said, "I've got to get home, Father: it's time to put three beers in the fridge..."
Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time A
Having recently
moved into a small Irish town,
a
man pays his first visit to the local pub.
He
orders three beers, sits quietly at a table,
and
drinks all three on his own.
The
next evening, he repeats the routine.
Before
very long the whole town is whispering
about
the Man-Who-Orders-Three-Beers.
Finally,
the bartender broaches the subject:
“I
don’t mean to pry, but a lot of us are wondering
why
you always order three beers.”
“’Tis
odd, isn’t it?” the man replies.
“You
see, I have two brothers:
one
moved to the States, the other to Australia.
We
promised each other
that we’d always order two extra beers
to
maintain the family bond.”
Well,
the locals are quite pleased with that answer,
and
quickly embrace the newcomer as one of their own.
Then,
one winter day, the man comes in…
…and
orders only two beers.
The
bartender pours them with a heavy heart.
Word
spreads through the town like wildfire,
and
soon everyone is offering prayers
for
the departed soul of one of the man’s brothers.
Once
again, it’s up to the bartender to break the silence:
“All
of us around here are so very sorry for your loss,
and
want to offer our condolences on your brother’s death.
You
know, now ordering just two beers and all…”
Smiling,
the man replies,
It’s
just that I myself have decided to give up drinking for Lent.”
With
Ash Wednesday now clearly in sight,
it’s
that time again when so many Catholics are considering,
“What
should I give up for Lent?”
I’ve
been pondering that very thought myself.
Some
people will give up candy or dessert;
others,
an hour of TV or Internet;
still
others, coffee, soda, or alcohol.
Among
other things, as I’ve done several Lents in the past,
I’ll
probably give up using the snooze bar on my alarm clock.
and
you’ll understand how much of a sacrifice this is for me...)
This
habit of giving something up
is
a form of the traditional spiritual practice of fasting:
willfully
going without something good or even something necessary
for
a certain period of time.
We
all know (even if we fail to heed the principle)
that
we must give up bad things…
…and
not merely for a limited season of 40 days.
To
turn from our sinful ways is the very definition of conversion;
being
a follower of Jesus demands it.
Chocolate,
sitcoms, cocktails, sleep:
these
things are not bad,
especially
when they’re not used improperly or to excess.
So
why choose to go without them?
It’s
much the same idea as lies behind
the
Church’s long-standing discipline of priestly celibacy.
Are
Roman Catholic priests expected to be celibate
because
marriage and sex and family are so very bad?
Of
course not!
These
things are actually very, very good—even holy—
when
exercised in line with God’s plan;
But
the priest makes this sacrifice because the priesthood calls him
to another sort of intimacy and a different kind of fatherhood
to another sort of intimacy and a different kind of fatherhood
for
the sake of not just a single household,
but
the benefit of the entire Church.
Living
our faith challenges us
to
sometimes give up good things,
even
necessary and very good things,
to
give evidence that there’s something—
that there's Someone—even better!
that there's Someone—even better!
This
Sunday’s gospel reading is only 10 verses long,
but
in them we find Jesus using the verb “to worry” six times—
and
four of them, he’s telling us, “Don’t
worry!”
Jesus
is trying to drive anxiety out like a demon from our souls.
We oughtn’t
give an uneasy thought to tomorrow,
since
today’s trouble is enough for today.
Now,
Jesus is not encouraging his followers
to
be imprudent or impractical.
His
words are not about neglecting
to
take appropriate care of ourselves or one another;
they’re
about trusting God above all else.
Jesus
is asking,
“Do
you really think that the One who created you out of love
will
then leave you—in the face of every struggle—
to
your own devices?”
God,
who provides us with the greater necessities—
the
breath of life, the forgiveness of sins,
the
promise of eternal salvation—
will
not fail to provide us with the lesser ones—
such
as food and drink and clothing.
One
of the most powerful experiences of love any of us will ever have
is
a mother’s love:
a
love which is—by and large—lavish and without limit.
But
even should a mother
be
without tender love for the child of her womb,
the
Lord will never forget us.
You
see, what God wants for his children
is
that we be free of all needless fear and anxiety—
that
we avoid becoming slaves to our lesser needs.
How
often the sentiments of the human heart
are
bestowed upon money (or the things that money can buy)
with
the same intensity
that
should be reserved for God alone. (cf. E. Leiva-Merikakis)
God
did not free his people from slavery in Egypt
only
to have them become slaves again
by
bowing down to a golden calf in the desert.
And
God does not free you or me from our slavery to sin
only
to have us become slaves again
to
the works of our hands or other creatures—
including
ourselves and our selfish desires.
How
quickly we fall into the trap
of
serving someone or something other than God:
our
self-image or our spouse, our two-year-old or our teenager,
our
business or our boss, our house or our car,
our
social status or our stock portfolio, our own ego. (cf. M. Schumacher)
So
many good things…but not one of them
on
which we can depend in any absolute way.
Jesus
makes it clear:
for
those who are his disciples,
there
is no room for any idols, any false gods.
We
can serve only one master—
and
which one, we must decide.
Where
do you find your personal security?
In
what does your troubled soul attempt to find its rest?
Is
it in your heavenly Father?
Or in something more earthly?
Or in something more earthly?
Spend
some time trying to answer that question,
and
it just might help you to figure out
what
you ought to give up this Lent.
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