21st Sunday in Ordinary Time
August 23, 2015
10 AM Liturgy
J.A. Loftus
This homily comes to you today thanks to two of our own
parishioners. (If you insist I can give you their names privately so
you can express your own gratitude to them, or not!) However, as
the usual disclaimer says: all opinions expressed here today are
mine alone and I take full responsibility for them.
Today’s gospel concludes our reading of the sixth chapter of
St. John’s gospel, frequently called the Great Discourse on the
Eucharist. I’m sure some of you will be relieved to hear that. In
fact, one parishioner came up to me after last Sunday’s liturgy and
said: “I don’t like these texts. When will it be over?”
I assured her of two things: first that she was most likely not
alone in her sentiments, and second that it would be over next
week. But I did ask her why she didn’t like “these texts” (and she
was referring mostly to John’s sixth chapter). She thought they
were brutally literal about flesh and blood, and, at the same time,
theologically opaque to her at least.
I think our parishioner was mostly right on both counts. The
gospels of late have been theologically quite dense and complex—
albeit beautiful. And they have been almost brutally literal. St.
John had his own reasons for writing that way. Some reasons were
patently theological (remember the theology was just beginning to
form as John was writing), and some reasons were historical
(remember the “church” as we know it was also just beginning to
take some shape as an independent entity distinct from the
Judaism of the time). There were axes to be ground to be sure.
You will be relieved to know that I am not going to grind any
more axes today. Also just last week, I was led, by yet another
parishioner, to a fresh approach. He told me that Roger Haight had
a new book out that he thought I would enjoy. He was right. Roger
is always provocative and fresh. His newest entry, called
Spirituality Seeking Theology, is no disappointment on either score.
Roger’s main thrust is that the lived spirituality, the actual
experiences of Easter faith of those early followers of Jesus, is what
provides the matrix out of which later theologies grew. The
experiences of those earliest followers shapes faith much more
than doctrines and creeds and codes of conduct. Experience needs
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to be taken much more seriously, perhaps, than creeds and
complex theologies. They all have a place, but praxis trumps
theory every time. (My apologies to Roger for grossly oversimplifying his book.)
So what was the actual experience of the disciples presented
at the end of John’s account today? John tells us, “Many of the
disciples returned to their former way of life and no longer
accompanied him.” They agreed whole-heartedly with our first
parishioner: “I don’t like this text. When will he stop?” They were
disillusioned and frightened—as they had been many times before
probably.
There are lots of other “texts” and sayings of Jesus that I don’t
like either. How about forgiving seventy-times-seven? How about
giving not just the shirt off your back to the beggar but your new
coat as well? How about losing your life in order to save it? How
about walking the extra mile with the soldier from the occupying
army who tells you to carry his weapons for him? The list could go
on. Supply your own favorites.
I don’t like any of these texts. So I honor them in theory; I
domesticate them with intellectual sophistry; but I don’t live by
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any of them most of the time. They, too, are too brutally literal and
occasionally dangerous. I remain a mostly polite Christian.
But that still does bother me. So like the other disciples in
today’s story, I remain in my “former way of life” and don’t always
accompany him. But like many of them, I do return occasionally at
least and feel better about myself and about the project of God’s
kingdom.
A few good people do remain in Jesus’ company. But they’re
not too thrilled about it either. Peter’s reply today is initially no
great confession of faith. Jesus asks those few who remain, “Do you
also want to leave?” And Peter, sounding somewhat sad and
exasperated to me, responds, “Master, to whom shall we go?”
You don’t suppose the disappointment and walking away
temporarily are actually part and parcel of the dynamic of faith, do
you? That seems to be part of everyone’s lived experience of Easter
faith. In the midst of disappointment and doubt, in the midst of
knowing and not-knowing, of doing and not-doing, of following and
not-following, there comes the profession of genuine faith: “You
have the words of eternal life.” “We are convinced you are the Holy
One of God.” To whom shall we go?
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People of faith are haunted by and hunted by a Life bigger
than life, a love stronger than death, a peace more permanent than
world can create by itself. Actions do speak louder than words, or
thoughts. Just keep following him with your feet. That’s real faith.
That may be all that’s really important. Follow me, he says!
Let me repeat my gratitude to our two associate homilists
today. Peace!
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