The Idea of a Dispute Makes Some Folks Tremble
Twenty-fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time, September 13, 2015
Readings: Isaiah 50:4-9; Psalm 116; James 2:14-18; Mark 8:27-35
What we have heard today from Mark Gospel, chapter 8, is the first of
seven Sunday Gospel readings about the journey of Jesus and his disciples
from the north of Galilee to Jerusalem. On the road, Jesus reveals his
identity; we call this study Christology. He also speaks of what it means to
follow him; we call this discipleship.
We hear the question of Jesus, Who do you say that I am? We are
invited to explore the heart of Christianity. And everyone has an answer, so
we hear a wide variety of contemporary opinions. The changing currents
and circumstances of our own lives and the life of the church suggest that we
must continue to answer the question of Jesus in all of the different seasons
of our lives. We do not answer the questions in a vacuum, for we are
members of the Church, of the Body of Christ. Our life in the church begins
not with our initiative, but with God who creates, calls, redeems, sustains
and sanctifies. We participate and we believe, but it is God who initiates; it
is God who calls.
The breath of God’s spirit assembles the church. Sometimes we may
think we know better, or we may have made different choices about who
else has or might have been called, but it is clear that God calls. Sometimes
it is clear that God has a sense of humor, or that God appreciates the
prophet’s vision even when that vision provokes tumult and unrest. It is this
prophetic vision of the Church, I think, that inspires our greatest artists and
holiest members.
Consider The Disputation of the Sacrament, La Disputa in Italian, a
painting by Raphael, the Italian Renaissance artist. Painted between 1509
and 1510, it is in the private papal library of the Apostolic Palace in the
Vatican.
Raphael’s scene includes both heaven and earth. Christ is above,
surrounded by Mary, John the Baptist and other biblical figures, including
Adam, Moses and Jacob. The Father sits above Jesus, reigning over the
golden light of heaven. Below is the hovering Holy Spirit, and lower yet is
the altar on which sits a monstrance, within which is a consecrated host. On
either side of the altar are theologians debating the doctrine of
transubstantiation. They include Popes Julius II and Sixtus IV, the
Dominican friar Savonarola, and Dante who wears a laurel wreath to
symbolize his great stature as a writer. Also there is Raphael’s mentor, the
famous renaissance architect Bramante.1
1
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Disputation_of_the_Holy_Sacrament
2
Raphael’s vision is of a disputatious church, a church in conflict, a
church that would soon suffer the divisive effects of the Reformation. But
note that it is still the church, not a loose collective of disputatious souls, but
the one Church of Christ gathered around the table; the church above and the
church below, the right and the left, the orthodox and the challengers, the
correct and the mistaken, the ignorant and the learned, the holy and the
sinful. All still there. Together. At one table. One loaf. One cup. One
Body. One Church.
The idea of a dispute makes some folks tremble. They don’t read
much history, I guess, or study many famous paintings in the Vatican
collection. Dispute is part of our genetic make-up as Catholics, sometimes
for ill, but often for good. Here is when dispute is not good: when we decree
that there are winners and losers, the in-crowd and the dispossessed, the
orthodox and the banished. When our disputes diminish the Church by even
one member, they cease to be holy.
We live in an especially intolerant age in which some think that those
who understand differently somehow lose their rights, even (and
dangerously) their right to the sacraments.
The church’s long tradition of lived faithfulness teaches us about
living holistically even in the midst of a conflicted church and in a troubled
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age. The Church’s endurance, its stability, teaches us about the holiness of
place. Our tradition of obedience teaches us about a broader, longer vision
that thinks not just of this afternoon or this particular crisis, or an individual
desire, but of building the Reign of God one year, one life, one epoch at a
time. The continuing call to conversion teaches us that we will be people in
process, on pilgrimage, until we see the face of God, when the One who is
perfect brings us to share that divine perfection.
Our vision is not yet complete, but years of prayer, together with the
bump and grind of living and working together, promise an enriched view
that moves from crib to cross to empty tomb to glory.
We who revere God must wait for mercy; we will find joy and God’s
favor (Sirach 2:7, 10). Because the Savior is near, we must seek to dismiss
anxiety, and give thanks in all circumstances. “Then God’s own peace,
which is beyond all understanding, will stand guard over your hearts and
minds in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:4, 6, 9).
We who live la disputa in today’s Church must remain grateful to
those who have gone before us, guiding us, modeling for us a Church that
lives hopefully, even in imperfection, quickened by the promise of
perfection we celebrate at the eucharistic table.
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