August 2010 Sánchez Sunday Commentaries & Sample Homilies (C)
EIGHTEENTH SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME
August 1, 2010
Possessed by God
Patricia Datchuck Sánchez
Eccl 1:2; 2:21-23
Col 3:1-5m, 9-11
Luke 12:13-21
When Norwegian playwright Henrick Ibsen (1828-1906) was a young child, his family enjoyed a comfortable way of life financed by his father’s great success in the timber shipping industry. Within a few years, however, his family’s financial fortunes were dramatically changed and they found themselves in dire need. His mother turned to religion for solace, while his father sank into a lingering depression. Ibsen’s sense of loss and insecurity was given voice through the characters of his plays; his themes dealt with financial difficulty and the moral conflicts that arise in such circumstances. Ibsen’s famous evaluation of wealth has been quoted countless times and continues to ring true: “Money may be the husk of many things, but not the kernel. It brings you food but not appetite; medicine but not health; acquaintances but not friends; servants but not faithfulness; days of joy but not peace and happiness” (quoted in The Forbes Scrapbook of Thoughts on the Business of Life, Forbes, Inc., New York: 1968).
Ibsen’s words echo the thoughts expressed by the ancient philosopher and author of Ecclesiastes, Qoheleth (first reading). They are also like the wisdom of the Lucan Jesus, who aptly summed up the worth of wealth for human beings: “One’s life does not consist of possessions” (Gospel). Qoheleth had grown weary of the futility of a life spent accumulating more things. He asked: In the end, what does it all amount to? His commentary on the human condition remains timeless in a world that continues to listen for the “ka-ching of the cash register as if it is a lovely symphony. Granted, money in our bank accounts makes us feel good and helps us to hold at bay the wolves of worry. By the same token, lack of money often tests us to the limit. Even the best of us can get weighed down with the frustration of dealing with difficult economic times.
But it is precisely during those times of financial stress that we most clearly discover the value we place on wealth. If we depend on money to heavily for our well-being, peace of mind and spiritual equilibrium, then we need a shift in focus. To that end, the scriptural authors continually redirect our spiritual energies and physical efforts toward the alternative existence suggested — and exemplified — in both the Jewish and Christian testaments.
Choosing to live an alternate lifestyle is at the essence of what it means to be a faith community or church. Members of the ekklesia, the church, have been literally “called out” of the world (in Greek ekklesia is related to kaleo, “to call”) in order to live free of its dictates and to belong fully, at every moment, to God and to one another. In this alternative community, every human need is attended by the care of others, and money becomes only one tool among many for serving others, rather than an end in itself.
In order to cultivate a way of life that does not measure happiness by possessions, Jesus advised his followers to become “rich in what matters to God” (Luke 12:21). These riches, explains theologian and scripture scholar Luke Timothy Johnson, will belong only to those who are willing to “learn Jesus” (Living Jesus: Learning the Heart of the Gospel, HarperCollins, New York: 2000).
“Learning Jesus,” says Johnson, begins with trusting that Jesus is raised from the dead and now lives as powerful Lord, and that he is available to us in the Spirit. We are also to trust that the means by which Jesus has chosen to communicate with us are reliable, that the portrayals of him by his early witnesses and the authors of the Christian scriptures are also authentically faith-filled. We who would learn Jesus are to trust that the encounter with him in word and bread is not fantasy, nor is it purely symbolic. Rather, the Eucharist, like the Gospel, constitutes a sacred experience during which Jesus and his disciples cultivate their relationship. That is how we find the grace to sustain the alternative way of life we call church.
Learning Jesus does not mean that we will no longer know need or hunger or hard times. On the contrary, belonging to the One who suffered for us will necessarily entail our own suffering. Johnson calls this suffering a stretching of the self in order to reach a higher place. It is an element of growth in the Spirit that allows us to lean on Jesus rather than any material or worldly base of security.
“Life”, as Jesus said, “does not consist of possessions” — unless, of course, that possession is Jesus Christ.
Eccl 1:2; 2:21-23
Saadi, a 12th-century Sufi poet from Shiraz in Persia, grew up in poverty, but his spirit was not bound by his abject state. Rather, his detachment from material things enabled his soul to soar to heights that cannot be attained by those who let their possessions hold them back. In his book Gulistan (“The Rose Garden”), Saadi wrote: “If of thy mortal goods thou art bereft, and from thy slender store two loaves alone are left, sell one, and with the dole buy hyacinths to feed your soul.” Instead of worrying about a full belly or a roof over his head or the security of money in the bank, Saadi chose to feed his inner self, his spirit, which would enable him to withstand whatever economic or physical struggles he encountered.
Although his attitude is quite different from Saadi’s, the philosopher-poet known as Qoheleth had similarly learned that there is no lasting fulfillment in the acquisition of material wealth. In the end, all earthly goods are but vanity — hebel, or “breath” or “vapor” — which, like a sigh once it has been sighed, is gone forever.
Qoheleth had carefully observed and evaluated the world in which he lived, and he realized that the things most human beings valued did not survive beyond the grave. Because he lived at a time when his Jewish tradition had yet to acknowledge an afterlife, the end of life here on earth was regarded as having a formidable finality. To make his point, Qoheleth cited people who labor all their lives to make a place for themselves in this world. Yet in the end, someone else will live in their homes and eat the fruit of their fields and enjoy the shade and fruits of the trees they planted. Frustrated by what he perceived to be an injustice, Qoheleth subtitled his verbal portrait of futility “vanity of vanities.”
Yet the ancient philosopher did not give himself over to despair. Rather, he sought to find meaning, however transitory, in the joys and blessings of this world. These pleasures, explained Dianne Bergant, are to be experienced in the very act of living, in eating, in drinking and in the work itself, rather than in the wealth that we may hope will result from our labors (“Reading Guide,” The Catholic Study Bible, Oxford University Press, New York: 1990). These pleasures have come from God, and they merit one’s full enjoyment, here and now.
If Qoheleth were to apply his perceptive wisdom to contemporary culture, he would probably be as critical as he was of his own day. He would not disparage hard work or ambitiousness or the success that accrues to good workers. But he would weigh in heavily against a society that judges human worth in terms of productivity rather than by the quality of one’s character. In the end, it is not what we produce that will travel across death’s threshold; the personal qualities and character we have cultivated are what will endure.
Col 3:1-5m, 9-11
The city of Agra in India is universally known for its beautiful Taj Mahal, which is visited by thousands of tourists every year. Agra is also home to many mosques. An old inscription on one of these holy places might surprise the modern visitor with its ecumenical sentiment. It reads: “Jesus on whom be peace has said, ‘The world is merely a bridge; you are to pass over it and not build your dwellings on it.’ ”
This is one of many sayings quoted by the followers of Islam who admire Jesus’ detachment from the things of this world as well as his absolute attachment to God. In today’s second reading, the ancient author of Colossians called his readers to have a similar detachment from earthly things and from the old self, so they can put on the new self — which is life in Christ Jesus.
Unlike the author of Ecclesiastes, who struggled to make the best of his earthly life, believing that all ended in death, the author of Colossians understood that death was a passage to fuller life. Because of Jesus and the gift of his saving death and resurrection, sinners are invited to die with Christ in order to live a life that is hidden with Christ in God for all eternity. That life is anticipated here and now when believers begin to live solely for God and die to all that works against goodness and holiness.
In baptism, as the ancient author has insisted, the faithful have been raised with Christ. It follows, then, that every human effort, whether it be moral, social, intellectual or psychological, should reflect the reality of the experience of resurrection. Solidarity with Christ begins in baptism, like a seed newly planted, but it is the daily and deliberate conversion to Christ that causes the seed to grow; this continuing conversion is to express itself through words and works that bring to life the values and challenges of the Gospels.
As with every sacred text, once we truly understand what the Spirit inspired the author to write, and once we appreciate how the message was intended to impact the author’s contemporaries, we are to allow the Spirit, the author and the message speak to our hears so it may shape and inspire our own response to Christ.
Perhaps we might ask ourselves if we perceive this world as a bridge, or as a treasured possession on which we have built lasting dwellings and in which we have sunken deep and immovable roots. Perhaps we have come to rely too heavily on our own resources and investments, which are limited at best, rather than on the ever-renewable resources of God and grace. Perhaps our priorities need an adjustment so we do not lose sight of what we might carry with us beyond the bridge. In today’s Gospel, the Lucan Jesus will remind us of what is portable and what is not.
Luke 12:13-21
Judging from the request that prompted Jesus’ parable about the rich man, his contemporaries had yet to grasp the message he came to preach among them. A man wanted Jesus to act as an arbiter to settle a dispute over property. His attitude, as N.T. Wright has explained, was typical of his fellow Jews for whom their land (inheritance) was a vital possession to which they clung as if to their own identity (Luke For Everyone, Westminster John Knox Press, Louisville, Ky.: 2004).
But Jesus had come with a message that challenged such possessiveness. He didn’t advise people to tighten up their defenses or secure their borders. Rather, he invited his contemporaries to understand that God longed to offer saving grace and new life to people of every race and nation. Jesus urged his listeners not to cling to their land and their material possessions, but to cling to God and prefer divine dominion over any earthly power or domain. This will require us to put earthly possessions at the disposal of the God who gave them, so that we may tend to the needs of others.
To illustrate the futility of clinging to possessions for security, Jesus shared the parable about the rich man whose wealth would not accompany him through the passage of death. This uniquely Lucan parable reprises the insights of Qoheleth, who understood that the material universe was as transient as a wisp of air; and the author of Colossians, who advised readers to focus not on the things of earth but on what is above with God and Christ forever. When the evangelist recounted Jesus’ message for his community of the 80s, he was affirming the urgency of the kingdom of God, the parameters and riches of which were not geographical or material in nature, but spiritual and everlasting.
As contemporary believers consider the truth being taught here, we may need to rid ourselves of the notion that “this could never happen to me.” With that idea in the back of our minds, many of us continue to live unperturbed by the fact that we will not be here forever. We continue to invest ourselves and our fortunes in projects that have no lasting significance. We tend to think that there will be time somewhere in the distant future when we can make the adjustments that will to merit our welcome into eternity. To the rich man who had such an attitude, and to those of us who share it, the Lucan Jesus says, “You fool!”
In the Jewish scriptures, “fool” was the name given to one who failed to take God into account in every aspect of his life. For the fool who compartmentalizes her life and adapts her moral principles accordingly, death will be a rude awakening. As Jesus’ parable is repeated in our hearing today, we are challenged once again to choose whether we will spend our energies building storehouses for our possessions or allow ourselves to be possessed by the love of God and share what we have and who we are with others.
Sample Homily for Aug 1, 2010
18th Sunday in Ordinary Time
“What Makes Reality?”
Fr. James Smith
“All things are vanity,” says Qoheleth. That is his overriding view of reality. But there are many views of reality. For instance, I think most of us live in a virtual reality, a picture of things that fits our lives as middle-class Americans. Our society imagines reality the way we like it: as the home of the free and the land of the brave.
And within every society, each segment has its own image of reality. Business reduces all things to the bottom line; politics tries to make the best of impossible situations; science orchestrates the continuous dance between matter and energy; psychology analyzes the ultimate depth of human behavior; advertising believes that image is everything.