I'm leaving for my annual retreat this afternoon. I'll be spending the week with the Trappist monks at the Abbey of the Genesee. Thanks for your prayers...and for understanding why I won't be posting a homily next Sunday!
Listening to the news on public radio early Tuesday morning,
Thirty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time B
Listening to the news on public radio early Tuesday morning,
I heard a story coming out of the northern Italian city of Cesena.
It
started as the dream of one man
to
bring his favorite American rock band to play in his hometown.
He
knew that if he was going to get their attention,
then
he would need to pull off something big…
…and
that’s just what he did.
It
took him and a small team a little over a year to do it,
but
in late July Fabio Zaffagnini
assembled
1,000 rock-and-roll musicians on a soccer field
to
play one song together: “Learn to Fly” by the Foo Fighters.
Out
on that field were drummers, guitarists,
bassists, and vocalists from all over Italy.
bassists, and vocalists from all over Italy.
The
oldest was a 65-year-old blues man;
the
youngest, a 9-year-old drummer.
They
were there for a single purpose,
and—after
a few rehearsals, lead by a great conductor—
they
played together perfectly in sync.
I
looked up the video online later that morning.
Even
if you don’t like loud rock music,
anyone
who hears it would have to admit it’s pretty amazing.
But
not only did these 1,000 people make an incredible sound;
as
soon as I saw their faces, I thought:
I want to be there! I want to part of this!
They
were all so clearly present to the moment,
so
focused on a common goal, so visibly joyful,
that
it was downright infectious—even on my computer screen.
You
should know that Fabio’s plan worked.
Just
one day after he posted the video online,
the
Foo Fighters had seen it—and promised to come to Cesena.
Last
Tuesday night, they made good on their promise.
I’ve
watched that video and listened to that song
again
and again these last several days.
And
the more I’ve learned about the project,
the
more I’ve realized how much all those folks were invested in it.
When
people heard Fabio’s plan, they could easily have said,
“Well,
if you just give a little, and I just give a little,
maybe
eventually we’ll have enough to make something happen.”
That,
of course, is the perfect recipe for a broken dream.
Instead,
what actually happened
is
that everyone who got involved gave it
their all—
and
that made all the difference.
Who
would have guessed
that
that field full of rock-and-roll musicians
could
be such a magnificent image
of
what the Church is supposed to be?
In
the gospel passage we’ve just heard,
Jesus
isn’t so much concerned
about
the money the poor widow contributed.
Now,
that’s not to say it didn’t matter to him at all;
elsewhere
in the gospels we find Jesus has plenty to say about money,
and
himself makes sure to pay the temple tax (Mt 17:24-27).
But
what’s at issue here isn’t that she put two coins in the coffer;
it’s
that she placed her whole life in God’s hands.
Being
the Son of God,
Jesus
could see what we often cannot—
what’s
going on beneath the surface.
He
knew she was all in.
Like
the widow of Zarephath,
this
woman could give all she had
because
she knew it had come from God to begin with—
and
that God would likewise continue to provide
anything
and everything she might need.
It’s
not a question of how generously she contributed;
it’s
a question of her faith—of how much she trusts the Lord.
This
is Stewardship Sunday,
and
it’s often a time for giving the “sermon on the amount.”
The
focus is generally on how much we’re giving—
meaning,
how much money.
But
I’d like you to ask yourself a different, deeper question.
What’s
my level of commitment to this whole Church thing?
How
much of my time and talent,
how
much of my energy and attention,
how
much room in my head and room in heart
am
I willing to set aside exclusively for God and the things of God?
Can
I truthfully say that I’m all in?
Now
just imagine a parish where people approach their faith
the
way those Italian musicians approached that one performance.
It
would be absolutely amazing!
It’d
be a community where people were so present to the moment,
so
focused on a common goal, so visibly joyful,
that
it’d be infectious.
It’d
make other folks say, “I want to be there! I want to be part of this!”
My
friends, let’s not just imagine it.
We
can make it real.
The
Letter to the Hebrews reminds us
that
Christ is not a priest
entering
an earthly sanctuary again and again—
as
did those in the temple of old—
to
offer an animal’s blood.
No—Christ’s
once-for-all sacrifice is perfect
because
it’s his own innocent blood that’s shed.
He’s
all in.
Christ
gives 100%—and he gives it for you and me.
Let's, then, make sure we're all in for him.
Let's, then, make sure we're all in for him.
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