Fifth Sunday Lent C Jn 8:1-11

Fifth Sunday Lent C 2007 12:15 Story: A younger priest had read the very popular book, I’m Okay, You’re Okay. On this particular weekend he decided to use the book as a source for his homily. And so he did. After Mass, he met a visiting priest in the sacristy. With cheerful enthusiasm he asked the visitor, “What did you think of my homily?” (Big mistake). The visiting priest said he thought the younger priest had done an admirable job (read one and a half stars). Then the visitor said, “While you were preaching, I couldn’t help imagining Jesus hanging on the cross, saying to his mother Mary and beloved disciple John, ‘If I’m okay and you’re okay, what am I doing up here?’” Still the idea of I’m ok, you’re ok is a valid one. It doesn’t mean that you bypass others’ faults and failures or treat them as non existent. But it does mean that you focus on the strengths and worth of others more than on their weaknesses and frailties. This is the exact opposite of what the religious leaders did in our gospel story. What motivated the religious leaders to want to fulfill the law by stoning the woman caught in adultery? Because she broke the law? The image of crushing another human being’s head is so gross, so ghastly that it can be kept in your imagination only for a split second. Were the religious leaders really that dedicated to the law, to the strict observance of the letter of the law? Or had the religious leaders made an idol out of the law, just as the Romans worshipped the statue of Jupiter? Were the religious leaders enslaved to every jot and title of the letter of the law as they were enslaved under the crushing heel of the Roman Empire? And like the Roman Empire, did the Law enslave the religious leaders and all the Hebrew people while giving the appearance of freedom? Were the religious leaders and the people like an eagle that can be held back from the swooping freedom of the highest, bluest skies as firmly with the string of trivial faultfinding as with the cable of serious true or false accusations of sin? Then Jesus comes along and tosses the comfortable, tidy legalistic world of the religious leaders upside down like a cataclysmic hurricane attacking a skyscraper. Jesus simply says with words as tender as a mother’s to a toddler, “Go and sin no more.” In this gospel story, no word about an act of contrition, no firm purpose of amendment, no avoiding the near occasions of sin. But it is as clear as brand new Plexiglas that repentance is always a condition for forgiveness. Jesus is always doing things like that. He told the story of the father who didn’t even let his prodigal son finish his act of contrition, but instantly forgave him. Jesus told this story of the Prodigal son not only to reveal the infinite forgiveness of God, but to launch a frontal attack against the self-righteous legalistic religion of the religious leaders. For example, the father, an elderly and dignified man of means, was forbidden by law to run. But Jesus says the father rushed down the hill. Thus breaking the law. The law demanded that the father of a prodigal son should excommunicate that son from the family or at least treat that son as a slave. But Jesus says the father had sandals and a ring and the finest robe placed on his son and threw a gala party for his return. Thus breaking the law. The law demanded that a son who refused to join his father at the banquet should be immediately put to death. But Jesus says the father pleaded with his elderly son to join him in the partying. Thus breaking the law. What is Jesus saying through this story of the prodigal son? Jesus is saying it is not the law and the observance of the law, not the prim and proper, prissy posturing that are the be all and end all of your relationship with God anymore than a gorgeous wedding gown makes the perfect bride. With this story of the prodigal, Jesus undermined the religious leaders’ legalistic, self-righteous commitment to the letter of the law. Rather through this story of the Prodigal son, Jesus is saying that it is love and forgiveness, all-inclusive invitations and acceptance, partying and laughter that are the qualities that highlight your relationship with God just as the father celebrated his son’s return probably with a zest bordering on an orgy of repentance and forgiveness. As in all his parables, Jesus is revealing God who is Father. What is Jesus revealing about God in this story of the prodigal son? By telling this story of the father who broke the laws, Jesus is indicating that God’s boundless forgiveness cannot be confined by human-made rules and regulations. Does this mean that sins can be forgiven without the Sacrament of Penance? That’s exactly what it means. Does this mean we throw out the Sacrament of Penance? Absolutely not. The Sacrament of Penance is necessary to externalize the admission of your sins; to hear yourself expressing sorrow for your sins;. to provide a sacred external sign guaranteeing the grace of forgiveness. The story of the prodigal means that God forgives you in many, many different ways; that God’s forgiveness falls on you like a snowstorm. Recall, the words of the Prophet Isaiah: “Though your sins be as scarlet they shall become white as snow.” Think of the parable of the owner of the harvest who spread the entire daily wage to the 11th hour workers as breezily as he scattered the seeds that produced the harvest, gathered with the sweat of the all-day workers. Or the parable of the Samaritan who poured healing balm into the wounds of a traveling stranger who turned out to be a hated enemy, a Jew, and then without counting the cost, picked up the entire tab for all of the hotel accommodations. What is Jesus revealing in these stories? Jesus is revealing to you that our God is a God of infinite abundance, a God of endless surprises, a God of unending forgiveness. Ironically, back here on Earth, in the midst of this explosive profusion of boundless, loving forgiveness, the New Mexico Legislature voted to restore Pluto to the status of a planet – at least when passing over New Mexico. Talk about prioritizing! Yet this is the culture in which you are to live the abundance, the surprises, the forgiveness of God. This is the world in which you are to live the values of your faith. The elder son who is usually dismissed as incidental to Jesus’ story of the prodigal, actually plays a prominent role in this story. The elder son represents the self-righteousness of the religious leaders of Jesus’ day as well as those who are self-righteous and judgmental here and now in our church today. We’re now almost through the Lenten season. If you have been trying to do something extra for Lent, you might be tempted to feel a bit self-righteous. Robert Wicks in his book, Availability: The Problem and the Gift, warns, “When the space for God is filled with self-righteousness, we lose touch with our true selves You wound one another with your dehumanizing power plays, your obsessive need to always be right, to appear more virtuous than others, with your enslaving pride of self-righteousness. But Eugene Kennedy in his book, The Choice to be Human, consoles you with his words, “The way for the passage of the thundering and self-righteous seekers of power over people is no wider than a strand of hair.” Flannery O’Connor’s short story, “Everything That Rises Must Converge,” is an in-depth portrait of self-righteousness that must face its own sinfulness. And I would add that the last thing the self-righteous want to do is face up to, never mind admit, their sinfulness. The self-righteous would much rather crucify those who confront them. It happened two thousand years ago, it happens today, at least verbally. Scott Peck in his book, People of the Lie, states with merciless clarity, “The evil in this world is committed by the spiritual fat cats, the Pharisees of our own day, the self-righteous who think they are without sin because they are unwilling to admit any sin.” There is a humorous ditty that goes to the core of this meditation like an archer habitually hitting the bull’s eye: To live above with saints we love, Oh! That will be a glory! To live below with saints we know, Well, that's a different story! Self-righteousness is difficult to deal with because it disguises itself as virtue as easily as a chameleon changes colors. Who appears more virtuous than the self-righteous? The event of the adulterous woman and the parable of the prodigal son are challenging you to be ruthlessly honest to yourself about yourself. HUMOR An annoyingly self-righteous man went to the doctor for a check-up. He said, “I feel terrible. Please examine me and tell me what’s wrong with me.” “Let’s begin with a few questions,” said the doctor, “Do you drink much?” “Alcohol?” said the man. “I’m a teetotaler. Never touched a drop in my whole life.” “How about smoking?” asked the doctor. “Never,” replied the man. “Tobacco is bad, and I have strong principles against it.” “Well, uh.” asked the doctor, “do you have a good sex life?” “Oh, no,” said the man. “Sex is sin..” The doctor paused, looked at the man hard, and asked, “Well, do you have pains in your head?” “Yes,” said the man. “I have terrible, terrible pains in my head.” “O.K.,” said the doctor. “That’s your trouble. Your halo is on too tight!! THOUGHT Use Lent to be honest to yourself about yourself.

OSCAR ROMERO and my life story

I’ve just finished reading yet another bio on Archbishop Romero. Then there was a piece on him in America magazine. I realized that in these past 27 years (he was assassinated in 1980 – seems like yesterday), he has become my favorite hero. Talk about opposites attracting !! Oscar (I feel fuzzier when I call him by his first name –he probably would have asked me to) was a man of magnificent courage and humble cunning, speaking out, bravely yet suavely, against strident, unabashed social injustices, pleading prayerfully and incessantly for peace, begging like a broken record on behalf of the poor. I don’t have this kind of the compassionate grandeur of courage. There are times when, in preparing my weekend homily, I wonder if people will take something I say out of context and blast me for browbeating a ‘captive audience.’ It has happened so I’m delivered from the psychobabble curse of paranoia. Some of my lack of courage is due to my impatience. Joyce Rupp, whose writings I admire greatly, in her book, Fresh Bread and Other Gifts of Spiritual Nourishment, wrote, “People of courage recognize and live with their ‘unfinishedness’.” I’m a type A. For example, I don’t go for instant gratification because it takes too long. Anyway back to homily preparation. I realize with, I hope, the guidance of the Holy Spirit, that I must speak out for peace and peacemaking. It sort of smacks of the priestly thing to do. How can I do this without referencing warfare? And where is the war? Of course, in IRAQ. Or as our esteemed President constantly calls it, EEErack. (No wonder people around the world hate us). So I use Iraq as an example. I don’t berate anyone that I know of. I don’t condemn the present Administration for getting us into this Halloween-masked excuse for furthering USA imperialism under the ever present, hypocritical banner of NATIONAL SECURITY. I don’t attack that little Napoleon who has taken over the body of our well-meaning (with a wild stretch of the bounty of benefit of the doubt) but a stupidly arrogant, sneaky puppeteer – our own VP. I talk about peace as found in the gospel stories. I quote Jesus, the Prince of Peace (although there are those who are convinced that Prince of Peace is not as powerful and demanding or as sacred as his other title, Christ the King – oh, for a good course in symbols !!). After which, filled or almost filled with satisfaction I smilingly greet the people who bother to greet me after Mass, and there are those who complain, “You’re preaching politics, Father,” I say something like I thought I was preaching gospel peace. I thought I was trying to make a connection between the gospel and where you live. I thought I was following the inspiration of our American bishops in their booklet, Fulfilled in Your Hearing. “In a homily the preacher does not so much attempt to explain the scriptures as to interpret the human situation through the scriptures.” (Another Episcopal bromide gone the way of the Beatitudes). “You used statistics about the number killed and wounded, Father.” I say something like I always believed that concrete examples helped the people to understand better (not to mention giving a little spice to an otherwise riotously dull performance). I usually try to end my homilies with a humorous story to balance the cunning heaviness of the aforementioned homily. One time I told a humorous story about a lawyer. The people laughed heartily. After Mass a gentlemen – and he was indeed a gentleman – approached and told me that while he appreciated my humor (not really mine since I steal the stuff right and left) but didn’t I realize that I was denigrating the entire lawyer culture? (Like denigration is needed). I asked him if he was a lawyer. He said no. (Selfless to be sure). I told him I had run the story past a lawyer friend and she howled. I also mentioned that a humorous story has only one punch line and if we pull the details out of the story, we could always find something to take umbrage at. And that for it to be humorous someone or some group has to bear the brunt of the part of the story that brings out the laughter. He was polite, did not stalk off, but I had the intuition that he wasn’t the happiest camper in our parish village. All hail to our newest idol: Political Correctness !! Sometimes I go back to my rooms (luxurious contrasted with what the people in El Salvador live in) and meditate on Oscar (I feel fuzzier when I call him by his first name –he probably would have asked me to). Sometimes I even pray to him even though he still hasn’t been canonized (I often wonder what kind of a greeting Oscar gave JPII when he finally arrived in heaven). And that’s another opposite attracting: Oscar will be canonized one day as soon as Vatican officials in all their nervous expertise recognize that Oscar wasn’t a remuddling Communist like the ones who crushed the people of Poland. After all, the Vatican tends to move with the impetuosity of a glacier. (“Rome wasn’t built in a day” etc.). As soon as the Vatican stamp of approval catches up with the sense of the faithful who honor Oscar as a warrior orator saint and a meticulously unhurried martyr. As soon as Vatican officialdom agrees that Oscar died for the faith (that question being the formal stumbling block: did he really die for the faith or only for social justice and peace?). and was not just indulging in what could be considered being politically incorrect. Ah, to have the luxury of spending one’s pampered priesthood in giggle fits of hairsplitting. Anyway the opposite is that I’ll never, never be canonized probably for trying to be too politically correct.

S