Two summers ago, I bought an old-fashioned push lawnmower, and it’s generated a lot of comments from my neighbors. One said to me, “Good for you! That’s so friendly to the environment!” Upon hearing the gently whirring of the blades as I mowed, a dog walker said nostalgically, “Ah, the sounds of summer.” A jogger passing by commented, “Boy! You really get a good workout using that!” And my friends across the street said it was nice that they could enjoy drinks on their patio while I mowed, instead of being drowned out by a noisy gas engine. I’ve noticed, however, that none of my neighbors have purchased a push-mower of their own. When it comes to my lawnmower, it seems I’m often admired, but never imitated.
The same could be said about the saints. They too are often admired, but not imitated. Consider Jean Vanier. He’s widely admired around the world for his ministry with persons with disabilities, and was personally honored by Pope John Paul II. When interviewed on TV, he was told that many people referred to him as a saint. He didn’t care for that. He said that sometimes people label other people saints because they don’t want to try to be saints themselves. They think it’s too hard, or only for a special, heroic few.
The truth, however, is that God calls every one of us to be a saint; there’s a “universal call to holiness.” But sometimes we can find this confusing. My ten year-old son recently asked me, “Dad, are there any saints who aren’t priests or nuns? He’s got a point. The roster of the saints includes lots of priests and nuns, bishops and popes, martyrs and missionaries, virgins, and some devout kings and queens. We can get the impression that sainthood isn’t for “ordinary” people like us.
Sure, there are a few exceptions. St. Juliana was a Russian wife and mother during Russia’s Time of Troubles in the sixteenth century. She endured famines, plagues, invasions, and widespread crime. He husband was often away from home, and she lost eight of her thirteen children. Yet throughout it all, she continued to pray, to love, to care for the poor. She was made a saint not long after her death to remind people in panic and despair that holiness can be achieved in home and family, not just in a monastery.
As a wife and mother, St. Juliana might be understood as an “ordinary” person. However, the circumstances of her life were anything but ordinary. That can give us the impression that ordinary people in ordinary circumstances- most of us, I expect- can’t hope to be saints. But that’s not the case, and that’s one reason we celebrate the Solemnity of All Saints. Today we remember all the ordinary people, who lived in ordinary circumstances, who are saints in heaven. The routine ins-and-outs of their daily lives were the “raw material” of their holiness. We may not know their names, but they’re the saints most of us are called to imitate.
But how do we go about doing that? A local pastor was showing me his church, which has a large wooden carving of a windblown St. Peter, straining to haul a net into his fishing boat. He said, “I hate pictures of saints that are just standing there doing nothing.” He’s got a point: saints are “doers.” For us to be saints, we need to be doers. But what, specifically, are we to do? Well, that depends on our circumstances. But there are characteristics common to every saint. England’s Cardinal Hume wrote that there are three qualities in holy people. First, they’ve discovered God’s love and in turn they love others, especially the needy and neglected. Second, they trust in God and his providence. And third, they’re kind, joyful, hopeful, positive people.
Surely all of us can be like that, even if our lives today are very far from that ideal. We might think that there’s no way we could ever be saints. But remember: saints aren’t born; they’re made. And some of those God made into saints had a long way to go when they started!
Consider St. Monica and St. Augustine, who were mother and son. A saintly family! You might think, “That’s nice, but it certainly doesn’t describe my family.” But one time, St. Monica was an alcoholic. She had a verbally abusive, non-Christian husband who cheated on her. Augustine abandoned his faith as a teenager, defiantly embraced another religion, came home from college with a live-in girlfriend, fathered a child out of wedlock with her, and then later sneaked out of the country in order to get away from Mom.
For his part, St. Augustine suffered from depression at times; he spent many years adrift as he sought meaning and purpose in life; he wasted time and money on silly and immoral entertainment; and he struggled with a sexual compulsion that filled him with shame.
All this describes a dysfunctional family, not a saintly family. But that’s not the entire story. Augustine eventually returned to his Christian roots and became a great bishop; Monica’s pagan husband changed his ways and became a Christian as well; and Monica recovered from alcoholism and died in the company of her loving and attentive son.
Their story should give real hope those who struggle with real problems: Hope that now matter how bad things may seem, there’s always the possibility for healing, conversion, reconciliation, growth, and freedom. And their story should remind us that true holiness is possible for everyone, regardless of our starting point. There’s no such thing as a hopeless sinner, because every sinner can hope to become a saint. Or to put it another way: Every saint has a past; every sinner has a future.
What does the future hold for us? Only God can answer that. But what does God want for us? We know that answer for certain. More than anything, God wants us to be saints.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Friday, October 23, 2009
Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time
A young priest, on his day off, felt really put out when he had to meet with a man who had dropped by the church, looking for help. “I’m off-duty,” he grumbled, “and it’s almost dinner time!” When he arrived at the office, the visitor introduced himself only as “Jim.” His clothes were shabby and he smelled terrible. It was pretty obvious he’d been living on the streets.
As Jim began talking, the young priest knew full well what was coming: Jim was going to ask for money. As he listened for what seemed to be an eternity, the priest sighed, fidgeted, rocked on his heels, and jingled the loose change in his pocket. When the housekeeper paged him and said he had a phone call, he curtly excused himself and left the room.
When he returned, Jim was gone. The priest felt guilty that his attitude had driven Jim away. He dashed outside, but Jim was nowhere to be seen. So he hopped in his car and began to search the neighborhood. When he spotted Jim, he ran up and said, “I’m sorry I had to leave. Please come back so we can finish our conversation!” But Jim just shrugged and muttered, “You’re just like everyone else. Nobody wants to listen.”
In today’s gospel, nobody wanted to listen to Bartimaeus, either. As we heard, a large crowd was following Jesus while Bartimaeus was begging at the side of the road. When he heard that Jesus was passing by, he cried for help. But the crowd was put out by this and told him to be quiet. They didn’t want to hear him. And they didn’t want Jesus to hear either.
Jesus did ultimately hear Bartimaeus- because Bartimaeus kept yelling and yelling. But what about us? The Lord hears the cry of the poor! But do we? There are several reasons why we might not.
First of all, we’re often not told of the poor’s cries by the media. The other night, Jay Leno and a guest were taking about the “Balloon Boy” story. The guest suggested that we put all the one and a half million homeless kids in our country into a giant balloon so they can get a tiny fraction of the media attention the “Balloon Boy” did. She has a point. Right now tens of millions of people are starving in famine-stricken East Africa. But we don’t hear much about that. We hear instead about the “Balloon Boy.”
Another reason we might not hear the poor’s cries is that we don’t want to hear them, like the crowds in our gospel story. For them, Bartimaeus was a distraction, a nuisance. Maybe he made them feel uncomfortable, ashamed, or guilty. Perhaps he stank or looked shabby like Jim, and they were “grossed out.” Maybe they just couldn’t be bothered; Bartimaeus’ needs were an inconvenience.
Aren’t we tempted to feel the same way? The homeless person approaches our car at the stoplight, and we stare straight ahead while we grip our steering wheel. Appeals come in the mail with pictures of starving children with wide eyes and bloated bellies, and we automatically toss them along with the catalogs. We don’t want to be bothered. We become jaded and indifferent.
We also might not think the cries of the poor are worth listening to. Perhaps we see it as whining, instead of crying. Surveys reveal that a majority of Americans believe that most people who are poor have only themselves to blame to their poverty. In other words, they’ve brought it upon themselves because they’re lazy or sinful. They’ve made their bed, we think, and now they have to sleep in it.
The truth is, however, that we have a responsibility, not only to try to hear the cries of the poor, but to answer them when we do. Jesus shows us this in how he responded to Bartimaeus. He stopped. He listened. He cared. He healed. We should do likewise; Jesus expects us to. Upon seeing a little girl begging with her mother on a street corner, a business man complained to God, “Why don’t you do something about this?” “I did,” replied God. “I made you.”
Of course, the government can and should do what it can. That’s part of its function and responsibility. But that doesn’t relieve us of our responsibility. Jesus never told Caesar to help those in need. He has, however, told us.
But what can we do? To begin with, we can pray. We can pray for global justice and a fair distribution of the world’s resources. We can pray for the needy individuals we might pass by in our cars or on the sidewalk as we make our way to work- people with faces and names. And we can prayerfully examine our lifestyles, our financial priorities, and our stewardship of God’s blessings, that we might live more simply so others may simply live.
We can give of our time and talent to food pantries, refugee assistance centers, crisis pregnancy programs, soup kitchens, and homeless shelters. We can mentor, tutor, repair houses, or become a foster or adoptive parent. To the best of our ability, we can give our financial support to the annual Archbishop’s Appeal, Catholic Charities, and other worthy institutions. We can support our parish’s participation in SOME- So Others Might Eat, and we can make regular contributions to our parish food distribution initiative. We can always be sure to treat the beggar with courtesy and respect. In addition, we can vote. We should weigh our society’s responsibility to care for its poorest members every time we enter a ballot box- whether the election be for president, or the city council.
Our world is filled with needy people like Bartimaeus- people in need crying out for help. Some we’ll meet on our doorsteps; others are halfway around the world. Can we hear them? Will we listen? How will we respond? With indifference and impatience? Or like Jesus- with compassion and love.
As Jim began talking, the young priest knew full well what was coming: Jim was going to ask for money. As he listened for what seemed to be an eternity, the priest sighed, fidgeted, rocked on his heels, and jingled the loose change in his pocket. When the housekeeper paged him and said he had a phone call, he curtly excused himself and left the room.
When he returned, Jim was gone. The priest felt guilty that his attitude had driven Jim away. He dashed outside, but Jim was nowhere to be seen. So he hopped in his car and began to search the neighborhood. When he spotted Jim, he ran up and said, “I’m sorry I had to leave. Please come back so we can finish our conversation!” But Jim just shrugged and muttered, “You’re just like everyone else. Nobody wants to listen.”
In today’s gospel, nobody wanted to listen to Bartimaeus, either. As we heard, a large crowd was following Jesus while Bartimaeus was begging at the side of the road. When he heard that Jesus was passing by, he cried for help. But the crowd was put out by this and told him to be quiet. They didn’t want to hear him. And they didn’t want Jesus to hear either.
Jesus did ultimately hear Bartimaeus- because Bartimaeus kept yelling and yelling. But what about us? The Lord hears the cry of the poor! But do we? There are several reasons why we might not.
First of all, we’re often not told of the poor’s cries by the media. The other night, Jay Leno and a guest were taking about the “Balloon Boy” story. The guest suggested that we put all the one and a half million homeless kids in our country into a giant balloon so they can get a tiny fraction of the media attention the “Balloon Boy” did. She has a point. Right now tens of millions of people are starving in famine-stricken East Africa. But we don’t hear much about that. We hear instead about the “Balloon Boy.”
Another reason we might not hear the poor’s cries is that we don’t want to hear them, like the crowds in our gospel story. For them, Bartimaeus was a distraction, a nuisance. Maybe he made them feel uncomfortable, ashamed, or guilty. Perhaps he stank or looked shabby like Jim, and they were “grossed out.” Maybe they just couldn’t be bothered; Bartimaeus’ needs were an inconvenience.
Aren’t we tempted to feel the same way? The homeless person approaches our car at the stoplight, and we stare straight ahead while we grip our steering wheel. Appeals come in the mail with pictures of starving children with wide eyes and bloated bellies, and we automatically toss them along with the catalogs. We don’t want to be bothered. We become jaded and indifferent.
We also might not think the cries of the poor are worth listening to. Perhaps we see it as whining, instead of crying. Surveys reveal that a majority of Americans believe that most people who are poor have only themselves to blame to their poverty. In other words, they’ve brought it upon themselves because they’re lazy or sinful. They’ve made their bed, we think, and now they have to sleep in it.
The truth is, however, that we have a responsibility, not only to try to hear the cries of the poor, but to answer them when we do. Jesus shows us this in how he responded to Bartimaeus. He stopped. He listened. He cared. He healed. We should do likewise; Jesus expects us to. Upon seeing a little girl begging with her mother on a street corner, a business man complained to God, “Why don’t you do something about this?” “I did,” replied God. “I made you.”
Of course, the government can and should do what it can. That’s part of its function and responsibility. But that doesn’t relieve us of our responsibility. Jesus never told Caesar to help those in need. He has, however, told us.
But what can we do? To begin with, we can pray. We can pray for global justice and a fair distribution of the world’s resources. We can pray for the needy individuals we might pass by in our cars or on the sidewalk as we make our way to work- people with faces and names. And we can prayerfully examine our lifestyles, our financial priorities, and our stewardship of God’s blessings, that we might live more simply so others may simply live.
We can give of our time and talent to food pantries, refugee assistance centers, crisis pregnancy programs, soup kitchens, and homeless shelters. We can mentor, tutor, repair houses, or become a foster or adoptive parent. To the best of our ability, we can give our financial support to the annual Archbishop’s Appeal, Catholic Charities, and other worthy institutions. We can support our parish’s participation in SOME- So Others Might Eat, and we can make regular contributions to our parish food distribution initiative. We can always be sure to treat the beggar with courtesy and respect. In addition, we can vote. We should weigh our society’s responsibility to care for its poorest members every time we enter a ballot box- whether the election be for president, or the city council.
Our world is filled with needy people like Bartimaeus- people in need crying out for help. Some we’ll meet on our doorsteps; others are halfway around the world. Can we hear them? Will we listen? How will we respond? With indifference and impatience? Or like Jesus- with compassion and love.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Twenty-Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Back in 2006, when I last preached on these Biblical readings, the economy was in much better shape than it is today. In my homily on that particular Sunday, I spoke about the dangers that the consumerism and materialism of our culture pose to our spiritual lives. My opening illustration featured a wealthy woman with an expensive art collection who lamented that she had become a slave to her many priceless possessions, because they required so much care from her. I noted the contrast between two articles on the same page of a national magazine: one spoke of hunger in Afghanistan, the other about wealthy patrons at posh Miami hotel ordering $24 plates of steak tartare for their dogs. And I joking referred to a cartoon from the New Yorker magazine in which a pompous, well-dressed businessman proclaims: “I figure if I don’t have that third martini, then the terrorists win.”
How times have changed, haven’t they? There’s no way I could preach that same homily today. The financial bubble has burst. $66 trillion in wealth has been wiped out. Homes are being foreclosed; loans are being defaulted; retail sales forecasts are weak. Unemployment is nearing 10%. Families are pulling their children out of Catholic schools. People are scared.
How did all this happen? Who is to blame? What has led us into this “Great Recession?” It’s easy to point fingers at bankers, government regulators, mortgage brokers, credit card companies, and corporate CEO’s. We can shake our heads at the easy credit, adjustable rates, excessive risk-taking, and exotic investment instruments that have created mountains of “toxic assets.” But the bottom line is that the current economic mess, more than anything else, is a result of old-fashioned human greed. Pure and simple. And for the greater part of this decade, there has been a lot of greed to go around.
One doesn’t have to be rich to be greedy. And one certainly doesn’t have to be rich to feel the effects of the recent downtown. In fact, it’s the people who aren’t rich who typically get hurt the most. Folks without golden parachutes. Those who are growing anxious as their unemployment benefits run out. Who fear being hurt or getting sick because they’ve lost their insurance. Who swallow their pride and make that first visit to a neighborhood food bank. There’s certainly a lot of that these days. Earlier this week the pastor of Assumption parish in Anacostia shared with me that the number of people coming to his church for food, clothing, and help with expenses has gone up four-fold over the past year. As always, it’s the people at the bottom who get hurt the most.
It would be ridiculous, even crass of me to preach today about materialism and consumerism and its effect on our relationship with God. But I can still preach about greed. Greed can afflict us in good times and bad, in both bear and bull markets. You can be greedy with an empty wallet or a vault of cash. Greed is an attitude. In boom years it can make us grasping; in bust years it can make us tightfisted. Underlying it all is selfishness. And selfishness is the opposite of love.
That’s why we need to hear Jesus’ parable of the rich young man in 2009, as much as we may have needed to hear it in 2006. Sure, Jesus did say that it’s harder for the rich to enter God’s kingdom than it is for a camel to pass through a needle’s eye. And there are certainly fewer rich people these days hoping, as G.K. Chesterton once joked, for bigger needles and smaller camels!
But that rich young man’s problem wasn’t necessarily that he was simply rich. He was rich and greedy; his riches were more important than his relationship with God; he cared more for his riches than for those who might be helped if he gave them away.
When it comes to stewardship of our possessions, however many or as few as they may be- God invites us to be generous and grateful, not greedy. You might say that God invites us to be like him. God is giving. He gives us life, love and grace. He gives us the beauty of nature, the bounty of the earth, the companionship of friends, gifts, talents, the truth of his Word in Scripture, the companionship and guidance of the Church. He gives us lessons and tests so we can grow. Jesus gave us his mother as our mother. Jesus gives us himself in the Eucharist. God gives us his Holy Spirit in Baptism and Confirmation. He gives us hope for an eternal home.
What would things be like if God weren’t giving? What would things be like if God were greedy? We can only imagine the answers to those questions. But we don’t have to imagine what things are like when human beings are greedy. We’re paying the price for that- no pun intended- every day.
So what should we do? To begin with, we can try to change our ways. And lots of people are already doing that. Ostentation is “out;” simplicity and frugality are “in.” Savings are “up;” luxury purchases are “down.” “Staycations” have replaced vacations. Credit cards are making way for debit cards. Layaways are back.
All of this is good- we should all try to live within our means. But more important than changing our habits, is that we change our fundamental attitude. So that generosity- not greed- becomes second nature.
When a Hindu man was once asked, “What is a Christian?” Mother Teresa was touched by his answer. “A Christian,” he said, “is giving.” That’s something to think about. These days, we may not have as much to give as we used to. We may not have much of anything to give at all! But what matters is not the amount in our bank accounts. As Christians, what matters most is the amount of love in our hearts.
How times have changed, haven’t they? There’s no way I could preach that same homily today. The financial bubble has burst. $66 trillion in wealth has been wiped out. Homes are being foreclosed; loans are being defaulted; retail sales forecasts are weak. Unemployment is nearing 10%. Families are pulling their children out of Catholic schools. People are scared.
How did all this happen? Who is to blame? What has led us into this “Great Recession?” It’s easy to point fingers at bankers, government regulators, mortgage brokers, credit card companies, and corporate CEO’s. We can shake our heads at the easy credit, adjustable rates, excessive risk-taking, and exotic investment instruments that have created mountains of “toxic assets.” But the bottom line is that the current economic mess, more than anything else, is a result of old-fashioned human greed. Pure and simple. And for the greater part of this decade, there has been a lot of greed to go around.
One doesn’t have to be rich to be greedy. And one certainly doesn’t have to be rich to feel the effects of the recent downtown. In fact, it’s the people who aren’t rich who typically get hurt the most. Folks without golden parachutes. Those who are growing anxious as their unemployment benefits run out. Who fear being hurt or getting sick because they’ve lost their insurance. Who swallow their pride and make that first visit to a neighborhood food bank. There’s certainly a lot of that these days. Earlier this week the pastor of Assumption parish in Anacostia shared with me that the number of people coming to his church for food, clothing, and help with expenses has gone up four-fold over the past year. As always, it’s the people at the bottom who get hurt the most.
It would be ridiculous, even crass of me to preach today about materialism and consumerism and its effect on our relationship with God. But I can still preach about greed. Greed can afflict us in good times and bad, in both bear and bull markets. You can be greedy with an empty wallet or a vault of cash. Greed is an attitude. In boom years it can make us grasping; in bust years it can make us tightfisted. Underlying it all is selfishness. And selfishness is the opposite of love.
That’s why we need to hear Jesus’ parable of the rich young man in 2009, as much as we may have needed to hear it in 2006. Sure, Jesus did say that it’s harder for the rich to enter God’s kingdom than it is for a camel to pass through a needle’s eye. And there are certainly fewer rich people these days hoping, as G.K. Chesterton once joked, for bigger needles and smaller camels!
But that rich young man’s problem wasn’t necessarily that he was simply rich. He was rich and greedy; his riches were more important than his relationship with God; he cared more for his riches than for those who might be helped if he gave them away.
When it comes to stewardship of our possessions, however many or as few as they may be- God invites us to be generous and grateful, not greedy. You might say that God invites us to be like him. God is giving. He gives us life, love and grace. He gives us the beauty of nature, the bounty of the earth, the companionship of friends, gifts, talents, the truth of his Word in Scripture, the companionship and guidance of the Church. He gives us lessons and tests so we can grow. Jesus gave us his mother as our mother. Jesus gives us himself in the Eucharist. God gives us his Holy Spirit in Baptism and Confirmation. He gives us hope for an eternal home.
What would things be like if God weren’t giving? What would things be like if God were greedy? We can only imagine the answers to those questions. But we don’t have to imagine what things are like when human beings are greedy. We’re paying the price for that- no pun intended- every day.
So what should we do? To begin with, we can try to change our ways. And lots of people are already doing that. Ostentation is “out;” simplicity and frugality are “in.” Savings are “up;” luxury purchases are “down.” “Staycations” have replaced vacations. Credit cards are making way for debit cards. Layaways are back.
All of this is good- we should all try to live within our means. But more important than changing our habits, is that we change our fundamental attitude. So that generosity- not greed- becomes second nature.
When a Hindu man was once asked, “What is a Christian?” Mother Teresa was touched by his answer. “A Christian,” he said, “is giving.” That’s something to think about. These days, we may not have as much to give as we used to. We may not have much of anything to give at all! But what matters is not the amount in our bank accounts. As Christians, what matters most is the amount of love in our hearts.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Twenty-Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time
Did you catch the movie, Marley and Me, which came out last year? If you did, you’ll remember that it’s about an especially naughty dog named Marley. But even more than that, it’s about John and Jenny, the husband and wife who own Marley. At one point, they go through a rough patch- fighting about kids, careers, choices they’ve made, and of course the dog. Things get pretty bad, and John shares what’s been happening with a friend. The friend, who’s a self-absorbed playboy, asks John when he’s going to leave Jenny, as if that were the obvious thing to do. But John wouldn’t even consider doing that. He’s committed, no matter what. And because of his commitment, he and Jenny are able to work through their problems and move beyond them to happier days ahead.
Years later, John bumps into his old friend and shows him photos of Jenny and their kids. “You did well, man,” says his friend, but there’s a hint of sadness in his voice and on his face. He seems to regret the emptiness in his life because of his failing to commit like John did.
The message here is that marriage takes commitment. And that’s exactly what Jesus says to us in today’s gospel, isn’t it? Marriage is forever! For better, for worse; for richer, for poorer; in sickness and in health. Two become one flesh! What God has joined together, no human being must separate.
But not everyone sees things that way these days, do they? Some argue that marriage is an outdated institution that we just don’t need in our “post-modern” world. Evolutionary biologists say that monogamy is unnatural, and that we’re not “wired” to be faithful to one person for life. For proof, they say, just look at the divorce rate!
Sometimes divorce is necessary. Most of the time, however, it’s not. Two-thirds of divorces today come from “low-conflict” relationships. The couple drifts apart, things get boring, routine replaces romance, life gets stressful, spouses disappoint each other. Things don’t turn out the way they hoped or expected.
None of this should surprise us, however, because we’re all broken people. Every one of us is wounded in some way. We have immaturities, insecurities, and fears. We’re selfish and we’re sinners. Since be bring all of our messiness to our relationships, there’s no such thing as a perfect marriage, because no person is perfect.
That’s why marriages typically go through what we might call a “period of disillusionment.” It’s also why commitment is so essential. At a wedding, promises are made that nothing is going to be a “deal breaker.” Spouses commit themselves to each other- before God and before the Church- to stick together through thick and thin. Marriage is a permanent bond.
Of course, marriage is about love. But commitment is a main ingredient of love. That doesn’t sound exciting or romantic, but that’s the honest truth. When some people say they “married for love,” they mean they made a mistake when they were “head over heels.” When the feeling was gone, the “love” was gone. But to really “marry for love” is to stay commited, with or without “lovin’ feelings.”
Think of it this way: We’ll never believe that we’re truly loved by another if we think they have their fingers crossed behind their backs, are looking for greener pastures, waiting for a better offer, or have one foot out the door. Fair weather lovers are not really lovers at all. It goes without saying that others will never really believe that we love them without our commitment.
That’s why Jesus said what he said. That’s why God made things the way he did. As Jesus explained, marriage for life was part of God’s design “from the beginning.” It’s only because we’re “hard of heart” that things don’t work out.
Sure, marriage commitment is hard. Nobody said it wouldn’t be. But Jesus has shown us the way. Consider this: in the Sacrament of Holy Matrimony, it’s the bride and groom who are the ministers of the sacrament, not the priest or deacon. But that ministry doesn’t end at the altar. After the wedding, husbands and wives continue to minister to each other, by presenting Christ to each other. And you can’t present Christ to your spouse if you aren’t totally committed to him or her the way Christ is committed to us. Jesus never turns his back from us. Jesus never gives up on us. Jesus never stops loving us. That’s why he ended up on a cross.
Love requires commitment. At the same time, commitment helps us learn to love. Commitment is more than just sticking together, come what may. It also involves working on loving each other more and more. None of us are able to love perfectly, this side of heaven. But we can always learn to love more than we’re able to love today. That’s one reason why God brings husbands and wives together: so he can teach them lessons in love, and so they can help each other become holy. Some of those lessons can be hard. God’s love can be “tough love.” But it’s the only love worthy of the name.
Marriage can indeed be hard at times. But God doesn’t set us up to fail. Because with God, every marriage can be a great marriage. That’s what God wants for every marriage! Even for those that may seem to be dead. Remember: Jesus’ commitment lead to a cross. But that cross led to resurrection and new life. The same can happen with marriages. Commitmment can involve crosses. That same commitment can also lead to new life. It happened with John and Jenny in Marley and Me. It happens with real couples too. “Forever” doesn’t have to be a death sentence! For Christians, forever is eternity.
And Christian marriages can taste that eternity even now. Through commitment. Through love. It’s like that line from Les Miserables: “To love another person is to see the face of God.”
Years later, John bumps into his old friend and shows him photos of Jenny and their kids. “You did well, man,” says his friend, but there’s a hint of sadness in his voice and on his face. He seems to regret the emptiness in his life because of his failing to commit like John did.
The message here is that marriage takes commitment. And that’s exactly what Jesus says to us in today’s gospel, isn’t it? Marriage is forever! For better, for worse; for richer, for poorer; in sickness and in health. Two become one flesh! What God has joined together, no human being must separate.
But not everyone sees things that way these days, do they? Some argue that marriage is an outdated institution that we just don’t need in our “post-modern” world. Evolutionary biologists say that monogamy is unnatural, and that we’re not “wired” to be faithful to one person for life. For proof, they say, just look at the divorce rate!
Sometimes divorce is necessary. Most of the time, however, it’s not. Two-thirds of divorces today come from “low-conflict” relationships. The couple drifts apart, things get boring, routine replaces romance, life gets stressful, spouses disappoint each other. Things don’t turn out the way they hoped or expected.
None of this should surprise us, however, because we’re all broken people. Every one of us is wounded in some way. We have immaturities, insecurities, and fears. We’re selfish and we’re sinners. Since be bring all of our messiness to our relationships, there’s no such thing as a perfect marriage, because no person is perfect.
That’s why marriages typically go through what we might call a “period of disillusionment.” It’s also why commitment is so essential. At a wedding, promises are made that nothing is going to be a “deal breaker.” Spouses commit themselves to each other- before God and before the Church- to stick together through thick and thin. Marriage is a permanent bond.
Of course, marriage is about love. But commitment is a main ingredient of love. That doesn’t sound exciting or romantic, but that’s the honest truth. When some people say they “married for love,” they mean they made a mistake when they were “head over heels.” When the feeling was gone, the “love” was gone. But to really “marry for love” is to stay commited, with or without “lovin’ feelings.”
Think of it this way: We’ll never believe that we’re truly loved by another if we think they have their fingers crossed behind their backs, are looking for greener pastures, waiting for a better offer, or have one foot out the door. Fair weather lovers are not really lovers at all. It goes without saying that others will never really believe that we love them without our commitment.
That’s why Jesus said what he said. That’s why God made things the way he did. As Jesus explained, marriage for life was part of God’s design “from the beginning.” It’s only because we’re “hard of heart” that things don’t work out.
Sure, marriage commitment is hard. Nobody said it wouldn’t be. But Jesus has shown us the way. Consider this: in the Sacrament of Holy Matrimony, it’s the bride and groom who are the ministers of the sacrament, not the priest or deacon. But that ministry doesn’t end at the altar. After the wedding, husbands and wives continue to minister to each other, by presenting Christ to each other. And you can’t present Christ to your spouse if you aren’t totally committed to him or her the way Christ is committed to us. Jesus never turns his back from us. Jesus never gives up on us. Jesus never stops loving us. That’s why he ended up on a cross.
Love requires commitment. At the same time, commitment helps us learn to love. Commitment is more than just sticking together, come what may. It also involves working on loving each other more and more. None of us are able to love perfectly, this side of heaven. But we can always learn to love more than we’re able to love today. That’s one reason why God brings husbands and wives together: so he can teach them lessons in love, and so they can help each other become holy. Some of those lessons can be hard. God’s love can be “tough love.” But it’s the only love worthy of the name.
Marriage can indeed be hard at times. But God doesn’t set us up to fail. Because with God, every marriage can be a great marriage. That’s what God wants for every marriage! Even for those that may seem to be dead. Remember: Jesus’ commitment lead to a cross. But that cross led to resurrection and new life. The same can happen with marriages. Commitmment can involve crosses. That same commitment can also lead to new life. It happened with John and Jenny in Marley and Me. It happens with real couples too. “Forever” doesn’t have to be a death sentence! For Christians, forever is eternity.
And Christian marriages can taste that eternity even now. Through commitment. Through love. It’s like that line from Les Miserables: “To love another person is to see the face of God.”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)