Twenty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time, cycle C

Luke 13:22-30

When I was reading today's gospel, I remembered a novel I read many years ago. It was called “Damn Yankees.” It was made into a movie and a broadway musical, both of which were great in their own right. But the book has a little darkness in it. Basically, the hero is a middle-aged fan of the Washington Senators who longs for them to win a pennant. He sells his soul in exchange for becoming an unbeatable baseball player. He did build in an escape clause, though, and when he tries to take advantage of it, the devil sends a beautiful woman to seduce him – but she fails. It turns out that her beauty is the result of her own bargain with the devil. To punish her, the devil removes her beauty and of course she is still damned. I don't remember what the hero had on the devil, but he apparently had one demand he can make. He offers to make the devil release the woman from her bargain. She instead asks that her beauty be restored. If you saw the movie or the musical, it didn't end like that; but I remember the book and how it ended and it deeply disturbed me.

I think Jesus is talking about something like this today. Someone asks him if only a few will be saved. That would seem to be an easy question to answer: yes or no. But Jesus gives a little sermon, beginning with “strive to enter through the narrow gate”. Many will try to enter but not be able to. And when they plead with the owner to open up, he will say he does not know them.

Hell, our church teaches, is a reality. There are a lot of people who have convinced themselves that there is no hell and they give some very good arguments. They say, how could a merciful God send any of his children into an eternity of punishment? Is God some kind of sadist? Where's the mercy? And our image of hell comes from scripture as well; Jesus tells the story of the rich man and Lazarus and we hear about fire. And he implies fire in a few other places. But actually, most of the time Jesus uses different analogies for hell. He talks about Gehenna, which everyone who heard him knew referred to a place where everyone threw their garbage. He often talks about being locked out of a party – remember the five foolish virgins, or the king who threw someone out of a banquet because he wasn't wearing a wedding garment? And of course, the gospel we've just heard makes no mention of fire, just being excluded, kicked out.

And it all starts with “strive to enter through the narrow gate”. What on earth is Jesus talking about? In Jesus' time larger cities had walls around them. Of course you could get in through the main gates if someone opened them. But many cities had passage ways about as wide as a person moving sideways. You could squeeze through but you couldn't take anything with you. If you were an enemy, you would not be able to bring weapons in with you; and if you were an army, it wouldn't matter if you had to enter the city one person at a time without weapons. So in order to get in you had to leave everything behind. If you wanted to bring in stuff you had to have someone open the main entrance.

That's kind of what hell is all about. God says, “Come on in, my child. But you have to leave all that stuff outside.” What stuff is that? It has to do with the so called seven deadly sins – pride, covetousness, lust, anger, gluttony, envy and sloth. Now those aren't the sins as such; they are the roots of the sins, or the baggage, that we will have to let go of if we are to squeeze through the narrow gate.

We read about some of those saints who wore hair shirts, or rolled in thorn bushes or fasted for weeks on end, and we are usually repulsed by this. But they had a point. They were working on detachment, trying to separate themselves from the baggage that might keep them from entering through the narrow gate. Saint Francis saw this; he gave up his inheritance, even the clothes on his back to follow Christ. And we see that in so many other saints. And that is why we say martyrs go straight to heaven; they willingly give everything up, their very lives, for the sake of Christ.

CS Lewis envisioned an afterlife in which people found themselves living in a small house in a featureless plain. They had everything they needed. Eventually some would get restless, and get on a bus that took them to the end of the line, where they could climb a steep mountain on the top of which was a cross – just a big, dark cross. They could also enter a cave where they heard music and laughter. Needless to say most went down there. Only a few began the climb to the top of the mountain, which implied leaving everything behind.

Most of us mistakenly think of God as a great king who demands justice rather than a merciful father who wants us to give us everything. But God's justice has been taken care of by Jesus. Our only problem is the baggage we can't let go of.

The story from Damn Yankees made a real impression on me because I couldn't conceive of a person who would prefer physical beauty in this world to eternal happiness in the next. But I was pretty young then. Since then I've met a lot of people who would have an extremely difficult time letting go of their baggage. I know a lady who went into a profound depression when her cat died. I've met a man who almost divorced his wife because she threw out his favorite easy chair. And these all sound ridiculous, I know. But what is your baggage?

The Church has a wonderful tool to help us identify our baggage and do something about it. It's called Confession, the Sacrament of Reconciliation. When we honestly review our lives, we can see where we don't quite hit the mark, and we can work back from there and identify the “deadly sin” at the root of our problem. Maybe it's pride; maybe it's sloth or laziness; maybe it's gluttony of some sort. By asking us to review our lives every now and then, the Church tries to help us identify those things to which we are so attached that they pose a danger to our soul. We can always be forgiven, but if we know why we commit a certain sin over and over again, we can begin to work on the root. If we are gluttons – for pleasure, food, drink – whatever – we can fast. If we are lazy, we can get up every morning and accomplish everything on our list; if we are envious of our neighbor, we can find a way to rejoice in his good fortune.

Strive to enter through the narrow gate; leave your baggage outside. It is a lot easier now than it will be in the next life.

Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time, cycle C

Luke 12:49-53

When we think we know somebody, we really know an image of that person. Sometimes it's pretty accurate, and other times it's very wrong. I think we've all had the experience of being betrayed by someone we thought was a friend, or discovering that someone we knew had a dark side. This can and often does happen in a marriage, when a spouse discovers that her mate is not the person she thought she married. Sometimes it turns out that the person reveals a hidden side and sometimes it's something good. I remember when I was young I was walking down Main street with my favorite uncle, who stopped, reached in his pocket and gave some change to a homeless person. In those days, of course, a handful of change could get you something to eat. I saw my uncle through new eyes – saw that he was compassionate and generous. I remember another time when I was about eight years old and a friend and I together had a collection of little toy cars and trucks. We used to keep them all together and take turns bringing them home. One day I discovered that my friend had moved, and taken the box with him. Being eight, I didn't have any idea of how to find out where he had moved or how to get in touch with him. But until he gives me my cars and trucks back, I'll always think of him as a thief.

We have an image of Jesus as well, and it's not the real Jesus. Most of us want to form a relationship with him and that is a life-long process. But he reveals himself to his friends gradually. And probably most of us are content to know Jesus as someone who is gentle and kind and loving, and wants us to spend eternal life with him. That of course is true; the scriptures tell us that. But today we hear another Jesus – who wants to bring fire to the earth, who says that one of the consequences of his mission, of God becoming man, is that those relationships which mean so much to us, even those organic relationships of members of families, will be disrupted; there will be times when our relationship with Jesus will change love, not to indifference, but even to hate. Jesus in the gospel we've just heard, is showing us a different side; he's showing us that he is eager for the painful transformation of the world and the human suffering that will be an inevitable consequence of that transformation.

Jesus wants us to obey the commandments. That's the bare minimum. He really wants us to follow the beatitudes; that's the Kingdom of Heaven that Jesus came to initiate on this earth. But we don't all reach that point at the same time, and when we enter the Kingdom of heaven, when we become peacemakers, when we mourn the wars and abortions and human suffering caused by greed and selfishness enough to do something about it; when we ourselves decide to get off the train and live lives not enslaved to consumerism … you get the idea. When we decide to become what Jesus calls us to become, we are going to meet opposition, even from those we love the most. There is data to show that one of the biggest causes of marital discord is when one spouse is trying to grow spiritually and the other is not. And we know that even among Catholic families the day one's son or daughter announces that he or she has a religious vocation is not always welcomed, and sometimes vigorously opposed. And we find that in our parish family as well; people who are not very invested in their parish family sometimes make unkind remarks about people who are more invested. “Who does he think he is? Holier than thou?”

Maybe a corollary of what Jesus is saying is that if we aren't getting a little flack from friends and loved ones about our religion, about our attempts to live gospel-inspired lives, then we are probably not doing it right. If we are serious about our relationship with Jesus, we will experience pain. Jesus said, “If any man come to me, and not hate his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brothers, and sisters, yes, and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple.” Jesus, of course does not mean that we should hate in the modern sense; but he is saying unequivocally that we have to put him above even our own lives if we truly want to be a disciple. If today were not a Sunday we would be celebrating the feast of Saint Maximillian Kolbe, who truly lived this gospel. When you read his life story, you can see how he burned himself out for the sake of the gospel, publishing newspapers, founding two monasteries, one in Poland and one in Japan; building up a movement called “Knights of the Immaculata” which still continues to draw men to lives of greater devotion; and Kolbe of course gave up his very life in Auschwitz so that another man, a father and husband, would be allowed to live.

Most of us aren't called to do what he did; but perhaps most of us could do more. In the gospel Jesus longs for that moment when fire is brought to the earth, when the division he brings will be realized; when those of us sitting on the fence will have to make a real choice. I think a Christian should want what Jesus wants as well. We know our world is not the way it should be. Our world is sadly out of balance and you don't have to go beyond the first page of the paper to see that. Today's gospel invites us to join with Jesus in doing something about what's wrong – not merely complaining about it. Maximilian Kolbe and literally every other saint longed for the fire, longed for the division that would accompany the realization of the kingdom of Heaven. And in the hearts of each of us who have been baptized, there is a little of this longing as well. Through prayer and fasting and giving of ourselves we can fan the flames so that we also long for the kingdom, and more importantly, do something about it. Jesus also said “everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or fields for my sake will receive a hundred times as much and will inherit eternal life.” That's the other side; when we put him first, there is no limit to what we can accomplish.

Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, cycle C

Luke 12:32-48

It was about seventy-five years after the birth of Jesus, 40 years after his death. The Jewish temple had been destroyed, and Christians throughout the empire were being persecuted. Persecution didn't just mean being put to death; it also appeared in the form of making Christians live on the margins. They were excluded from the synagogues; they couldn't hold office in the Roman empire, which employed people in all kinds of jobs; and in many parts of the empire they could not own land or establish a business. People who had actually known Jesus had mostly died, and even those who had heard the apostles preach were getting old. Jesus had promised that he would come again, and the people who had heard him expected that to happen in their own lifetimes. It didn't seem as though this promise was coming true. In the face of this, many people had given up and gone back to their old ways – some to Judaism, some to Roman paganism.

It was about that time, as far as we can tell, that someone put together the Gospel of Luke. It's probable that the writer had Mark's gospel in front of him, because we can see much of Mark in Luke. And its probable that the author had collections of stories by and about Jesus, passed by word of mouth and then written down. And Luke set out to write the story of Jesus, keeping in mind the people who he would be writing for – the poor, the marginalized, the discouraged, the persecuted. You will notice, if you read Luke's gospel, how his audience is always on his mind, and our gospel today is a good example.

It is a warning and a promise. Jesus assures them that they haven't been forgotten; that better times will come. He tells the story of the vigilant servants, who are doing what they are expected to do, but end up being waited upon by the master himself. Then Jesus gives his apostles a warning; if you assume the Master has been delayed or is not coming at all, and live as as if this is what you believe, there will be a day of reckoning. And Jesus adds one other thought; those who knew what the master wanted will be punished much more than those who did not.

What do we make of this? How does it apply to us? I think there is a hint in the second reading when we remember our father in faith, Abraham. God had made many promises to Abraham, and many had been fulfilled. He had wealth beyond measure. He had been promised descendents as numerous as the stars in the sky, and he had finally been given a son with Sarah, his legitimate wife. And then God demanded that Abraham sacrifice his son. Sometimes people can't understand how any father could sacrifice a child, let alone Abraham who had literally walked with God. I don't even think Abraham understood this. But Abraham had faith. His faith was based on the fact that God had kept his promises so far. Abraham had allowed Sarah to be taken into a king's harem because he knew that if he were dead, the promise couldn't be fulfilled; God cursed the king's land and Sarah was returned to Abraham. Then the two of them decided that if Sarah was barren, maybe Abraham could have a child with Sarah's slave. And he did, but God caused Sarah to demand that she and her child be separated from Abraham. And finally after they had decided to get out of God's way, the miracle happened; Sarah became pregant and delivered Isaac. In view of his own experience, Abraham expected nothing but good from this God who had promised to spare the city of Sodom from destruction if even a handful of good people could be found.

And that is Jesus' point as well. Look back and see that God has always kept his promises. Even when people put barriers in God's way, he still was faithful; that was the whole story of the exiles when the Jews were cast out of their land by other nations. The prophets reassured the people, the story isn't over; you brought this on yourself by being unfaithful, but God will find a way to keep his promise. And he did; he brought the Jews back to their land.

The gospel writer is recalling for the people something Jesus said, and a parable he told. Just because things haven't happened as you expected them to doesn't mean we give up on God; we know he will keep his promises, so don't give up, keep working to bring about His kingdom; keep living expectantly, as if God is right around the corner, as if Jesus will be coming again tomorrow.

I'm depressed about our country. I'm concerned about both presidential candidates. I don't think either of them can begin to address the problems our country faces, both internal and external. I suspect we will muddle through for the next few years whatever happens, and then it won't concern me any more. But my children and grandchildren will have to live in this world which seems to be getting worse every day. It's refreshing to think back to those early Christians who looked at their own future and wondered what would become of them and their children? And from our vantage point 2000 years later, we can see that God did keep his promises; he did grow the Church; he did bring about the conversion of the Roman empire; he did raise up great popes and bishops and saints who continued to preach the message of the apostles; and yes, there were ups and downs, setbacks and advances; but on the whole you can see by looking back that God kept his promises and keeps his promises, and our job is to trust God to make everything work out in the best way possible. And our job is to keep on building the kingdom of God in our families, our workplaces, and in our Church community And then when our Lord comes again, we will not be found wanting.

Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, cycle C

Luke 12:13-21

Among Jews, even today, the rabbi, who has been educated in Jewish law, is often the one turned to to decide the proper course of action. This is especially true of the Orthodox sects. In such communities the people turn to the rabbi for decisions about marriage, divorce, what constitutes observing the sabbath – and indeed, questions about inheritance. It was true in Jesus' time as well, so the man in the crowd was simply doing what people did and asking the teacher who was passing through the town to be an arbiter. Jesus refuses to get involved, indirectly accuses the man of greed, and goes on to tell a parable about a rich man. When you read Jesus' words, what do you think of the rich man? He doesn't seem to be a bad guy, right? In fact, he is a farmer, and probably worked hard to get his harvest in. And he even seems prudent, building new barns to keep what he has rightly earned safe. But Jesus calls him a fool. If his life had not been demanded of him then and there, would he still be a fool? What if he lived to a ripe old age and gradually worked through his wealth, leaving something for the kids but enjoying a life of relative leisure? Surely we, who struggle to do exactly the same thing, would think he was pretty smart. He had grain, we have 401K's and savings accounts. We would like to look forward to a day when we can live off of what we have earned without worrying.

Does Jesus have something against wealth? Probably not. If you remember the story of the rich man and Lazarus, you will remember that Lazarus is sitting in the bosom of Abraham, presumably in heaven. Abraham was very wealthy. Even in this story Jesus tells, it isn't the fact that the rich man has stored up treasures for himself, but the fact that he had not become rich in what mattered to God. , b God calls the rich man a fool – I think it's the only place in scripture where God says something like that. And the word “fool” is a translation of the hebrew word “raka” which refers to someone who overlooks the obvious. That word can also be translated as “godless”, because to the Hebrews the most obvious thing in the world was that God existed and cared for them.

So how is the rich man a fool? And would he still be a fool if he and his family were spared the consequences of a famine or a war because he had been prudent? These are all questions that come to my mind when I read this story, and I'm not happy with the answers that I come up with. But maybe it's something like this.

The gospel passage begins with a man asking Jesus to judge between him and his brother over an inheritance. But neither person has a right to the inheritance other than perhaps a legal right. Neither worked for it, neither owned it before I presume, the father of the brothers died. Likewise, the rich man did not really earn his abundant harvest. He might have put in a lot of work, but the real blessing came because of good weather, plentiful rain, no locusts – in short, he was lucky – or as we who are Christians know, there are no coincidences. His abundant harvest was really due to God. So the first way he is a fool is he fails to recognize this; he fails to see his role as a steward of God's good things, rather than someone who owns them.

Second, there are many references in the Old Testament to what you did with a surplus. God wanted you to be blessed with food, clothing and shelter, but he also wanted you to help your neighbor out of your surplus. Just as you were to recognize the real origin of your goods in God, so you were to be a steward of those gifts. To one of Jesus' listeners, they would have been horrified to hear of someone who already had barns full of good things to tear them down and build bigger ones. That was a scandal, something only a corrupt person like Herod might do. As president Obama said a long time ago, “sooner or later you've made enough money.” When we think of the very wealthy of our own time, we can tolerate and even admire them if they are using their wealth to help their fellow man in some way. We can even tolerate them using their wealth to create jobs and produce more wealth. But it's hard to tolerate someone who uses his wealth to build marble mansions or line his toilet seats with mink. In a way, that's what is going on here.

But perhaps the worst way the man is a fool is that his whole mind is focused on his wealth and on himself, on his comfort. He has degraded his humanity; he is not seeking what is important, union with God, but is chasing things which in the long run are worthless. He is living much like someone who does not believe in God; like someone whose moral code is governed by what he can get away with. Living as though there is no God is the very definition of a fool.

This parable of Jesus makes me uncomfortable. I worked hard all my life and saved money; my wife and I did without so that when we were old and gray we wouldn't be a burden on our children. We've tried at the same time to keep our eyes on the supernatural dimension; we've tried to live in a way that we hope pleases God, recognizes that this is his world, realizes that we are stewards of our good things, not owners. We've tried to give away part of our wealth every year. And we are through the grace of God, doing alright financially. But I just hope that Jesus will not say to me, You fool! You stored up treasure for yourself and never became rich in what matters to God.

Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, cycle C

 Luke 7:36 – 8:3

During my career as a physician who specialized in cancer, many of my patients prayed very hard to be rid of their cancers. It never seemed as though prayer did anything; I saw people who didn't believe in God beat the disease and people who were about as religious as you could get die of cancer. And if your experience is like mine, you have to admit that there are times when your prayers don't seem to have been answered; and when they are answered the way you had hoped, you can usually find another explanation. And yet today's first reading and our gospel seem to encourage us to keep asking until we get what we want, and they also sort of promise that if we ask long enough and hard enough we will get what we pray for.

But when we see prayer as the means by which we get God to do something for us, I think we've missed the point.

The apostles weren't different from us. They weren't new to prayer; they probably prayed a great deal, both in the synagogue on Saturdays and privately. And they didn't see their prayers being answered either – at least the way they wanted them to be. And down through the ages we've heard the same old cliches – God always answers our prayer, but sometimes the answer in “no”. Or God didn 't answer my prayer because he knows that if he did it wouldn't be good for me.” Or, God didn't answer my prayer because I am a sinner, or I didn't say the prayer right, or I didn't pray hard enough. Back in the shrine to Mary you will sometimes find little leaflets telling you how to say the prayer to Saint Jude. If you say it nine times a day for nine days, you will get what you pray for. And there are a lot of those kinds of things floating around. If only you prayed in the right way …. If only you could discover the secret of prayer. And so Jesus' apostles ask “Lord, teach us to pray”. Because as far as they could tell, Jesus always got his prayers answered.

Jesus gives us the secret today in the gospel. First, he gives us an example of how to pray. You start out by praising God, by sincerely expressing that you want what God wants; you want his kingdom to come on earth, as it is in heaven. After this, you pray for your needs – not your wants, your needs. Your daily bread. Then you admit to God that you are a sinner in need of forgiveness, and you recognize that to be forgiven, you have to forgive. It's a rule. You can't be forgiven if you haven't forgiven. And finally you acknowledge your weakness and need for God's protection --- lead us not into temptation, deliver us from evil.

The second point Jesus makes is that we have to persist. Abraham persisted, and God answered his prayer. The man who persisted in banging on the door of his neighbor had his prayer answered. But I know people who have prayed continuously and not had their prayer answered. So what is going on here? What does it mean to persist in prayer, what is Jesus telling us? I don't think persistence means that we keep saying the same prayer over and over. I think we can learn something from Abraham. He knew God as a friend, and he knew that God had a weak spot, if you can call it that – God loved the innocent. And Abraham presumed upon his friendship with God to beg God to spare the whole city even for a handful of innocent people. Abraham's prayer was not a plea for himself, but for something God would want as well – sparing the innocent and giving the wicked another chance.

The man who persuaded his neighbor to get up and give him what he asked for knew something about his neighbor; he was a friend; and ultimately would respond to a friend's request. Persistence in prayer means not that we bother God to the point of Him giving up, but we demonstrate to God that we really believe in his power and his love for us, and we in turn trust that he will answer our prayer.

The third point Jesus makes has to do with the bread and stone, the fish and the scorpion. An earthly father would never give his child a stone when he asked for bread – of course not. But if the child asked for a stone, to eat or a scorpion, a human father would not answer those requests either. But a child who was refused these things could still trust in the goodness and care of his father, who would still be giving him good gifts. Jesus is not saying “sometimes the answer is no” but rather, trust God to answer your prayer in the way that is best for you. That's kind of where we started from – may your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.

In the example Jesus gives us, you notice that there is no “I”. The “Our Father” is a prayer of a community. And it follows that if we want our prayers to be answered, we need a community to pray with us. And it would be even better if it were a community of individuals who were aware of the gifts God has given each of them for the building up of the church. Those are called “charisms”. I don't know why God did it that way, but he works through us in our community. The Holy Spirit still gives gifts of wisdom and knowledge and leadership and music and intercessory prayer and even healing and prophecy. Saint Paul tells us that. But we don't know which ones we have unless we work to discern them – and after discerning them, step forward to use them. The Church is the Body of Christ; we are an organism made up of many parts. When we pray in Christ as a Body, won't God answer our prayers?

There was a time when Christianity was threatened by Islam, and the pope called for everyone to pray the rosary. The Turks were turned back, miraculously. All the Church prayed.

I know that my prayers have been answered, sometimes in ways that I expected, but sometimes in ways that were better than I expected. And you can't tell when God answered your prayers or how he answered them unless you are looking back at your life.

Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, cycle C

Luke 10:25-37

A wife remarked to her husband that the next door neighbor, who was moving, had returned the barbecue grill he had borrowed eight months ago. The husband replied, “Oh, no! I just paid thirty dollars for that at their garage sale! How's that for a neighbor!

We just heard the parable of the Good Samaritan. I think it is interesting that Jesus specifies that a priest and a levite pass by the individual who was robbed and beaten. I don't think Jesus had it in for priests or levites. He was trying to make a point. If you were to ask the priest why he did this, he would have a very good reason: he was on his way to Jerusalem to offer sacrifice, and even to touch a person who might possibly be dead would make him unclean and unable to offer the sacrifice. For the priest, aiding the stranger would interfere with his very important mission. The same is true of the Levite. Levites were members of the tribe of Levi, an hereditary priesthood separate from the priesthood of the temple. In the time of Jesus they played a special role politically and religiously. In the temple they guarded the sacred vessels and provided music for the services. The other Israelites were obliged to provide the Levites with a tithe of food and goods, since the Levites had not been given a hereditary land. Levites were responsible for distributing the surplus contributions made to the Temple. This went to the poor, the widows and the orphans. Our Levite may have been carrying some of this money or going to Jerusalem to do what he was assigned to do. In any event, he had a mission that for him was more important than stopping to see what was going on with the man who was robbed and beaten.

The Samaritan also had a mission; he was a businessman and was on his way to close a deal, or buy some goods to bring back to Samaria to sell. But only the Samaritan attended to the needs of the stranger.

When you think about it, a lot of Jesus' stories have the same point. The parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus shows a rich man who as far as we can tell, really didn't do anything horrible; he ate well and dressed well, but nothing in Jesus' story suggests that he was any worse a sinner than you or I. But he never even noticed poor Lazarus who was sitting on the front steps, and for this reason Jesus says he is condemned.

And when Jesus talks about the sheep and the goats, the only thing that separates the two groups is that one group has fed the hungry, given drink to the thirsty, and so forth, while the other did not. Neither group knew that the “least of the brethren” was Jesus Christ.

Jesus himself demonstrates this as he goes about his ministry. He is approached by the temple official who begs him to come and heal his daughter who is on the point of death. As Jesus is going to the daughter, he feels his power going out of him to heal the woman who touched the tassel of his cloak. Jesus stops and engages her in a dialogue and compliments her on her faith. He is fully attentive to her needs at the time she needs him.

I imagine that if you were to ask Jesus the bare minimum of what was expected of a Christian, it would not be a prayer life, or the ability to answer questions about theology or morality. These of course are good and wonderful things. It might not even be about how generous you are, how much you give to the missions or to your church. Generosity is of course wonderful and we couldn't get along without it. But what Jesus seems to expect of one of his followers is to be aware of the people that come into his life, see what they need, and fulfill that need as best as they can. I spoke to some elderly institutionalized people not long ago about this issue, and pointed out that even they could make a positive difference in the lives of those who come into contact with them. A thank you, a compliment, maybe a smile – we all know that even these little gestures can make our whole day. When someone tells me that she appreciated something I did, I can snack on that compliment for the rest of the day.

Not all of us are called to attend the wounds of the stranger who has been beaten and robbed. Not everyone has the means to help someone in poverty or someone living on the street. But we all have something we can give that can make another person more “whole”.

The basic thing Jesus expects of us is to make connections with other people that go toward overcoming the essential loneliness we all have. This connection we make with each other is no small thing. Jesus said, “where two or three are gathered together in my name, there I am”. When we reach out to each other, even if it is only a smile in a grocery store or a deserved compliment or a “thank you” something of God enters into the relationship.

Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, cycle C

Luke 10:1-12; 17-20

I'm sure some of you were Boy Scouts. I was a member of that organization till the end of my first year in high school. Even though we could have gone on longer, we decided it was no longer cool so we dropped out. Nowadays the Scouts seem to be seething with controversy; they've been accused of being anti-gay, racist, sexist because they won't admit girls, and just plain old fashioned. But in my childhood they were mostly good.

The motto of the scouts was “Be Prepared”. And we were. I had a backpack which contained my scout manual, which was a handy reference to almost anything you could think of. It showed you how to build an emergency shelter in a snowstorm, or build a birch bark canoe if you needed to cross a river. You could trap small animals if you needed to eat, and weave a fishing line out of whatever was handy. You could identify edible plants as well as ones which were poisonous. I really felt prepared. I also had a boy scout knife. In addition to the blade, it had a can opener, a bottle opener, a file, a set of scissors, and a fork. I think there was a compass in the handle as well. And I had a boy scout hatchet and a kitchen kit that folded into a neat package. It contained a dish that could be a plate or a frying pan, a collapsible cup, and a lid. I had a canteen with a cloth lining that when you soaked in the water to keep it cool. I had a one-person pup tent and a sleeping bag, and of course I had a water-proof metal container which held about fifty matches which you could strike on your shoe or a rock. I was ready for anything. I can remember going on hikes with my scout troop, all of us carrying our backpacks.

Last week Jesus refused to accept the excuses of potential disciples who wanted to follow him, but first wanted to tend to family obligations. Today Jesus picks seventy disciples and sends them out. You can almost hear them: “Jesus, what should we wear? What should we bring? When we come to a town, where will we stay? Should we take a change of clothes? And when we get there, what do you want us to tell them?”

And you heard Jesus' answer. He tells them not to be prepared. He tells them to rely on God, in a way, who will show himself in the generous people they meet. He tells them not to waste time with the people who won't accept them. And the message is very simple: The kingdom of God is at hand for you.

For Jesus, there is urgency in the mission on which he sends his disciples. It can't wait for them to put together a boy scout back pack. Every minute delayed means another soul lost. Jesus can't wait for his disciples to memorize a few more prayers, read a few more books, become more skilled in answering questions.

But he doesn't leave them totally without resources. He gives them three things:

First, he gives them power – the power to heal, the power to drive out demons. He does this not because he wants to start a health care business, but because these will be the signs to reinforce the message.

Second he gives each one of them a companion. Evangelizing by yourself is difficult and painful. Evangelizing with someone else is enjoyable. The Mormons and Jehovah's witnesses take this to heart. They always send out missionaries together. In addition to the fact that it is psychologically a lot easier to talk about our faith when we are accompanied by someone who believes what we do, having a companion is a good way to keep ourselves true to the message. When one of us forgets something the other can remember. And where we might think of one fervent soul as a religious fanatic, two are more believable; they seem more rooted in reality.

The third thing he gives them is the knowledge that they are part of a much larger movement. Seventy-two doesn't seem like much, but if we had seventy two members of the choir, or Food for the Soul, or seventy-two men and women who were committed to the pro-life cause enough to help picket the abortion clinic, we would be pretty happy. And the work would be easier, because of the strength that exists in numbers.

You and I are given power. We don't always use it, but when we bring our Christianity into the work place, we always have an impact, hopefully for the better. When we show each other mercy by forgiving, by encouraging, by bringing Christ's presence to others, we can bring about great changes, we can show that the kingdom is at hand. You and I are given gifts precisely for this purpose, and we should always be ready to use them. What is your gift? Do you use it?

We are given companions on the journey. We should participate in some sort of small group that reinforces our faith. Sometimes it's the family, sometimes it's a good friend or two. But we should have someone that we can and do talk to about our faith journey. Consider the ancient practice of spiritual direction, discuss your progress in holiness with someone who can help guide you. Consider joining a faith sharing group like the bible study group which is about to start. There are many ways you can find a companion for your journey.

And we are given a larger purpose. This Church community is your seventy two disciples, all commissioned by Jesus to go out and show people that the kingdom of God is at hand. We should have this in mind when we go out into the world. We represent the people of God, but more specifically, the community of Saint Mary's.

So you don't have to have a boy scout backpack in order to be an evangelist. Jesus told the seventy two in effect, no excuses, no temporizing – get out and win souls. That's the message he gives us as well.