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27th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C October 6, 2013
Church of Saint Ignatius Loyola
Joseph M. O’Keefe, S.J.
I am a big fan of Pope Francis and I listen carefully to what he says. Friday, in Assisi,
he called on the clergy to resist giving “interminable and boring homilies where no
one understands anything.” I won’t be interminable and I’ll try not to be boring. So,
here goes…
If you are anything like me, you really enjoy people like Mark Twain, H.L. Mencken,
and Dorothy Parker. What do they have in common? They are smart, sharp, and
witty. I have to confess: I enjoy wisecracks, zingers, and the clever retort.
Otherwise, I don’t know if I could have survived over 37 years of hanging out in
Jesuit rec rooms and dining rooms. The other day, I came across a web publication
entitled The Cynic’s Dictionary. Let me share some of the entries:
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CONSULTANT A jobless person who shows executives how to work.
LAWYER A professional advocate hired to bend the law on behalf of a paying
client; for this reason, considered the most suitable background for entry
into politics.
MIRROR A truthful reflector shunned by vampires, hypocrites and aging
beauty queens.
OBITUARY A final summation of our lives that, for most of us, occupies about
three inches of space in what will shortly become liner for your neighbor's
parakeet.
Cynicism can be engaging, no doubt about it. Cynicism can also reveal things as they
really are, because it unmasks inauthenticity and hypocrisy. And, sadly, in our
contemporary culture, cynics have lots of material to work with. The government
shutdown has provided plenty for Colbert, Stewart and the late-night comedians.
On Wednesday, Jay Leno quipped: “And because of the shutdown, even the
Smithsonian Institute is closed. And as a result, tourists who come to Washington
and want to see historical relics... they're now being sent to John McCain's office.”
Cynicism can be funny and fun. But cynicism can also be dangerous, because it can
poison the soul; cynicism can steal away the gift of faith that God has so generously
given to each of us. The scriptures today invite each of us, people of faith, to ask
ourselves this question, “Why do you continue to believe, when it would be so easy
settle comfortably into life of cynicism?”
Think about life’s tragedies. It’s not easy to be a believer when we feel that God has
fallen asleep or gone on an extended vacation in the face of human suffering. Like
Habbakuk, we lament, “How long, O Lord I cry for help, but you do not listen!” Take
a moment and consider: When have you cried out for help and God seems to have
turned a deaf ear? Have you, like Habakkuk, argued with God over His ways, which
sometimes appear unfathomable, if not unjust. And yet, here you are, at least six
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hundred of you. And no one forced you to be here. At one time, in an earlier era of a
very Catholic Boston, you went to church because that’s just what you did, it was
simply expected. But those days are long gone; there is no social stigma to deal
with. Mark Chaves, a sociologist of religion at Duke University, remarked that in
studying religion among Americans in the last decade, the most remarkable feature
was the sharp increase in the number of “nones; n-o-n-e-s, not n-u-n-s; nones, as in
no faith. Ask yourself, why am I not a “none; n-o-n-e?” Are the six hundred of you
here because you couldn’t think of anything better to do on a Sunday morning? In a
world where innocent people still suffer for no reason, in a church that all too often
has been riven by hypocrisy, in a society that fosters cynicism and sarcasm, why are
you here? When it is easy to doubt the very existence of God, why are you here? I
recommend that you answer that question with a few more questions:
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Where have I felt God’s presence?
What experiences, even and especially the most simple and ordinary
experiences, have given me a glimpse of God? The smile of a child? The hug of a
friend? The vivid autumn hues of the maple tree?
When have I felt a sense of peacefulness and purpose in my life?
How have I been able to overcome great obstacles or tragedies with a strength
that did not seem to be my own?
When have I been moved to tears because of an outpouring of compassion for
another?
When have I experienced community with other people who, like myself, are
seeking the face of God?
These, my friends, are the mustard seeds that God has already planted within you;
these are gifts from God. Faith, you see, is one of those gifts that you cannot give
yourself. But you can dispose yourself in such a way that God will make the tiniest
seed grow into the mightiest tree; the mustard seed into the mulberry.
On November 24, the Feast of Christ the King, the Catholic community will conclude
the Year of Faith, which began last October with the 50th anniversary of the opening
of the Second Vatican Council. In the intervening days, let’s pray for…
…a faith that is childlike, but not naïve;
…a faith that savors the smallest and simplest things;
…a faith that sees light even in the midst of darkness;
…a faith that gives hope even in a world that breeds distrust and cynicism.
In these waning days of the Year of Faith, let us heed the words of Saint Paul to his
friend Timothy: Let us stir into flame the gift of God that each of us has received. Let
us guard this rich trust with the help of the Holy Spirit that already dwells within us.
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