Homily for Sunday, 30 October 2022– Thirty-First Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C

Readings of the day: Wisdom 11:2-12:2; Psalm 45:1-2, 8-9, 10-11, 13, 14; 2 Thessalonians 1:11-2:2; Luke 19:1-10

It is humbling, really, and even more so than ever with our science and technology for observing our universe, to look out into the heavens and realize how small we are. Here we are, on a nondescript planet that orbits an average star, the sun, in a galaxy (the Milky Way) that is dwarfed by many more spectacular galaxies, in a universe with an estimated diameter of 93 billion light years.

Yet, when Pope Benedict XVI was installed as Bishop of Rome in April 2005, in his homily at the Mass as he received the archbishop’s pallium, the garment of lamb’s wool around an archbishop’s neck with three crosses in front and three in the back that symbolizes his unity with Jesus, the Lamb of God, and the fisherman’s ring that marks the pope out as a successor of Peter, he said this: “Each of us is the result of a thought of God. Each of us is willed, each of us is loved, each of us is necessary. There is nothing more beautiful than to be surprised by the Gospel, by the encounter with Christ.”

The week before Pope Benedict gave this homily, he addressed the cardinals who were about to choose him, Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, as the successor to Pope John Paul II. Cardinal Ratzinger warned of “a dictatorship of relativism that does not recognize anything as definitive and whose ultimate goal consists solely of one’s own ego and desires.”

Let me say that I think we are invited to hold both these statements as true, as jarring as they are when we hear them together, from the same person, Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger-Pope Benedict XVI. We cannot deny the pervasiveness of sin, individual and in the structures of our societies, politics, economies of the world.

A few days ago I tuned into a panel discussion on CBC’s The National about the possible causes of the current global economic crisis. The panelists acknowledged Russia’s war against Ukraine as a factor in the world’s economic problems. But then one of the panelists used a word I do not recall hearing before then, “Greedflation”: Price inflation driven at least in part by the greed of elites and large corporations for profits, which ends up (as economic problems tend to do) disproportionately affecting the (already) poorest and most socially disadvantaged.

Our world has struggled to respond to Russia’s unjust attack on Ukraine, its slaughter of innocent Ukrainian civilians and damage to Ukraine’s cities and essential infrastructure, and government and even religious officials’ attempts to justify the war. Much of public discourse, aided by the worst of social media, has been reduced to ideological polarization, peddling of conspiracy theories, and a kind of anti-intellectualism or general anti-authoritarianism.

Sin in our world is easy to find with very little effort. The “dictatorship of relativism” is a constant danger; the ethics of moral decisions becoming judged ultimately relative to “what is most beneficial for me,” with less to no regard for a common or universal good, any definitive direction or meaning of human life, which we Christians might call heaven. As St. Augustine of Hippo once prayed, “O God, our hearts are restless until they rest in you.”

But sin, or this “dictatorship of relativism,” is not the original state of the human person, from the moment of creation or the moment each of us came to exist. Our original state, and indeed the original state of our entire 93-billion-light-year-wide universe, is one of having been blessed, loved, intended, willed by our God. Many theologians, including yours truly, have in recent years shied away from terms like “original sin,” because sin is not original or essential to our human nature. Our having been thought, willed, loved, deemed necessary, and blessed by God are original to our human nature as God has created us. Sin is a corruption of this original blessed, willed, loved state of the human person and creation.

There is no truth, to my knowledge, that is proclaimed more consistently in our Scriptures than this: “God blessed them… God saw everything that he had made and, indeed, it was very good,” the Book of Genesis proclaims at the end of its first creation account. And we hear this same proclamation, this same truth across our readings today. The Book of Wisdom was among the last Old Testament books to be written. It was written in a time when, if one wanted to find sin, corruption, relativism, decadence in Israel, one would find it easily. One foreign nation after another (the Greeks and then the Romans, during the time in which Wisdom was written) had ruled Israel, sometimes with brutality. And Israel’s home-grown elites were often no better: The regime of King Herod and his successors hoarded the wealth of the nation and became corrupt and brutal. There were the Pharisees and their scribes, and the temple priests. There were zealots who sought to respond to violence and corruption with more violence and more corruption.

Yet, amid all this social corruption and decadence, the Book of Wisdom says this of God: “Lord, you love all things that exist… How would anything have endured if you had not willed it? … You spare all things, O Lord, you who love the living.” Wisdom does not deny sin in the world by proclaiming this foundational truth of God’s love of all creation; on the contrary. The author of Wisdom knows all too well the corruption of sin in our world, but proclaims that God corrects “little by little those who trespass… so that they may be freed from wickedness.”

The author of Wisdom proclaims how little we really are in this great universe God has created: “The whole world before you, O Lord, is like a speck that tips the scales.” Still, sisters and brothers, Wisdom proclaims to us today nothing other than the mercy and love of God by which we and our whole universe was created and continues to exist. As Dr. Denis Lamoureux here at St. Joseph’s College would say, this is the foundational truth of creation, which God “ordains and sustains”: “Lord, you love all things that exist.” We are “like a speck,” but one that “tips the scales”: “Each of us is willed, each of us is loved, each of us is necessary” beyond measure in God’s eyes.

This love, this blessing to us, our existence and sustenance and that of all creation leaves us with one response worthy of us before the merciful love by which we are “ordained and sustained,” by which, as the beginning of our Eucharistic Prayer proclaims, “we live and move and have our being.” Our Psalm speaks of our due response to this merciful, creative, and sustaining love of God: “All your works shall give thanks to you, O Lord, and your faithful shall bless you. They shall speak of the glory of your kingdom, and tell of your power.”

The second letter to the Thessalonians is a prayer for each of us, that the creative and sustaining love of God may work in our world through each of us: May “the name of our Lord Jesus Christ…be glorified in you, and you in him.”

But perhaps few Bible passages speak as well to God’s merciful, creative and sustaining love for us, for all God has created, than our Gospel story today of the tax collector Zacchaeus’ encounter with Jesus. Zacchaeus, even without his sinful past as a factor, is literally and figuratively “short in stature.” He is, as the Book of Wisdom says, “like a speck,” but a speck that will tip the scales, somebody dearly beloved in the eyes of God.

So what does Zacchaeus do? He climbs a sycamore tree when he realizes Jesus is about to pass by him in Jericho. All who see this (we can admit) ridiculous scene of the rich little tax collector, probably with his tunic caught high in a sycamore tree, begin “to grumble…: [Jesus] has gone to be the guest of one who is a sinner.”

Yet these grumblers miss the point. Jesus has offered to be a guest at Zacchaeus’ house: “Zacchaeus, hurry down, for I must stay at your house today.” Indeed, Jesus has made this offer to all of us, an offer of pure mercy and love: “I will come and dwell in this house today, the house of the earth, the universe, and everything I have created in it. And by coming and dwelling in your house in human flesh, sisters and brothers, I will redeem it and wipe away your sin forever. I will come ‘to seek out and to save the lost.’”

If there is ever an act that shows God’s love for us and all he has created, every speck, this is it! Yes, there is sin in our world, acts of human ego-seeking, violence and injustice, greed and war. But this, nowhere else, is the house God in his Son Jesus has come to dwell and redeem. “Each of us is the result of a thought of God. Each of us is willed, each of us is loved, each of us is necessary.” And Jesus asks us to hurry to this celebration, because Jesus “must stay at [our] house today.”

Homily for Tuesday, 18 November 2014– Ferial

Tuesday of the 33rd week in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: Revelation 3:1-6, 14-22; Psalm 15:2-3a, 3bc-4ab, 5; Luke 19:1-10

How many of us have heard how important it is to be mindful of the company we keep? If we associate with people with bad reputations, we may ourselves be judged as disreputable or, worse, we might acquire the bad habits of disreputable people with whom we associate.

Apparently Jesus never got this memo. Here, in today’s Gospel reading, Jesus invites himself to the home of Zacchaeus, a tax collector. Immediately the crowds begin “to grumble, saying, ‘He has gone to stay at the house of a sinner.’”

Luke’s Gospel goes into great detail to describe the ridiculousness of this encounter between Zacchaeus and Jesus. Zacchaeus is “short in stature,” and so he climbs “a sycamore tree” in a loose-fitting tunic “in order to see Jesus.” Imagine this scene! And then, implausibly, Zacchaeus offers to “give half [his] possessions… to the poor” and to pay back what he has stolen as a tax collector. But the crowds do not complain about how ridiculous all this makes Zacchaeus appear. No, they complain about Jesus’ going to eat at the house of this “sinner.”

Now, will anybody here complain that Jesus has gone to eat at the house of sinners? After all, Jesus has come here, to be with us in this house; a house of sinners, each and every one of us, for this feast; this Eucharistic celebration. I think we would be hard-pressed to hear anyone here complain about Jesus joining us here and now; joining us to eat in this house of sinners; making it a house of God. But so he has.

Jesus does not seem to understand the rule about minding one’s company. He associates with sinners; with Zacchaeus; with us. If we examine our hearts; our consciences, we will find that we have probably all sinned. Even more than damaging our relationships with God and one another, sin makes us look ridiculous; about as ridiculous as a little man climbing a sycamore tree in a loose-fitting tunic!

But we are fortunate that Jesus is bold enough to keep company like us; to live among us as human, to die, to rise, and to return in glory for us, all redeemed sinners.

Jesus recognizes the dignity behind the ridiculous Zacchaeus; that “this man, too, is a son of Abraham.” Behind our ridiculousness; our sin, Jesus recognizes that we, too, are daughters and sons “of Abraham”; daughters and sons of God; created and loved by God, even when we are up a sycamore tree (figuratively) in a loose-fitting tunic! Jesus is here now to clothe us with God’s love and mercy, “to seek and to save what was lost”; to bring “salvation…to this house.”

We are fortunate that Jesus keeps company like us; that Jesus is here to eat with us; in fact to give himself as food for our celebration in this house of redeemed sinners.

Homily for Tuesday, 19 November 2013– Ferial

Tuesday of the 33rd week in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: 2 Maccabees 6:18-31; Psalm 3:2-3, 4-5, 6-7; Luke 19:1-10

Who among us has ever admired another person for her or his courage? Has this person’s courage shone forth particularly in a time of crisis; a time during which other people were anything but courageous; a time during which some abandoned what they knew to be right and true, or tried to play the role of the hero?

Today’s readings present us with dramatic examples of courage in times of crisis: that of Eleazar in the Second Book of Maccabees, and that of Zacchaeus in our Gospel reading from Luke.

The aged and “noble” Eleazar is more explicitly an exemplar of courage than is Zacchaeus; our first reading commemorates him as “a model of courage… not only for the young but for the whole nation.” He submits to torture and death instead of abandoning the Jewish faith in the face of the tyranny of the occupying Greek forces of Antiochus IV. Antiochus called himself “Epiphanes,” or the manifestation of the divine itself! But Eleazar knew who the true God is and acted, lived, and died for this truth. This is true courage.

Zacchaeus also knows God; he boldly identifies God in Jesus Christ. This, too, is true courage. Zacchaeus is not afraid to stand out from the crowds who have prejudged him as a traitor and a sinner, and Jesus as one who “has gone to stay at the house of a sinner.”

Zacchaeus is not a hero, but one who is guilty as the people have charged him: a sinner; a tax collector. Then, he repents dramatically of his sin, again drawing the ridicule of the crowds upon himself. This is not heroism tinged with any measure of pride, but Zacchaeus’ repentance is an example to us of true courage.

Whether or not we are faced with crisis, or the unlikely event of having to give our lives for our faith, or called to everyday simple acts of acknowledging our God and acting in a God-like manner befitting our own human dignity, or to serve especially those most in need, or to repent of our sin, we are all called as Christians to courage.

We are not called to be heroes. By his cross and resurrection, Christ has already redeemed the world. Our calling is simply to co-operate with Christ in our own redemption and salvation. Our calling as Christians is to exercise the gift of the Holy Spirit that we receive in baptism and confirmation; the gift that enables us to know God and to discern and to act in God’s ways. This is true courage.

Homily for Sunday, 3 November 2013

31st Sunday in Ordinary Time

Homily for the University of St. Michael's College Campus Ministry Mass, Toronto, ON, Canada 

Readings of the day: Wisdom 11:22-12:2; Psalm 145:1-2, 8-9, 10-11, 13, 14; 2 Thessalonians 1:11-2:2; Luke 19:1-10

Has anyone here ever been afraid of appearing utterly ridiculous before other people?

As students, I am sure, having been a student here at St. Michael’s College myself (at the Faculty of Theology), that most if not all of you have been afraid of doing poorly on an exam or an assignment, of bumbling through a presentation or saying something foolish in class. Many of you painstakingly prepare for your assignments, presentations, and exams to avoid appearing inept before your fellow students and instructors.

But, if from time to time you have failed or spoken or acted foolishly in public, or even just been afraid of doing so, you are in good company.

School yearbooks often have sections reserved to “most embarrassing moments, faculty follies,” and so forth… Outside of school, reality television, funny home videos, and news and sports “blooper” reels generate great amusement (not to mention revenue) from incidents of people making themselves look ridiculous.

Today’s Gospel reading invites us to join in viewing the latest episode of “Israel’s Most Ridiculous People.” Meet Zacchaeus; Age: about twenty-five; Palestinian Jew; Hometown: Jericho; Profession: city’s chief tax collector.

Zacchaeus is wealthy but is profoundly disliked by the people of Jericho. In an exclusive interview with “Israel’s Most Ridiculous People,” a rabbi of Jericho explains: “Many tax collectors earn their wealth fraudulently. Worse yet, they charge commission on the taxes they collect for the occupying Romans. Tax collectors, especially that Zacchaeus, are traitors to the Jewish people!”

Zacchaeus could easily have made himself scarce because of his small stature. One wonders whether he has anything to lose… “Israel’s Most Ridiculous People” caught up with Zacchaeus, who had climbed Jericho’s tallest sycamore tree.

Great crowds have gathered around the tree in stunned silence at the sight of Zacchaeus climbing the tree in his tunic. Some have begun to gesture toward the sycamore and jeer:

“Oh my goodness! Look at that fool! It’s the tax collector!”

“How ridiculous can you get, Zacchaeus? We already despise you for collaborating with the Romans and lining your own pockets, you thief and traitor! Now you are climbing a tall tree with nothing on under that tunic!”

It appears we have our weekly candidate for Israel’s Most Ridiculous. Let us find out how our audience voted after these messages…

  

We return to “Israel’s Most Ridiculous People,” at the scene of Jericho’s tallest sycamore. Paradoxically, Zacchaeus has helped our show to reach a new low from the top of this tree. This just in, though: A man many are claiming to be the Son of God, Jesus of Nazareth, has taken “Israel’s Most Ridiculous People” completely off script by calling from the crowd to Zacchaeus: “Hurry and come down, for I must stay at your house today.”

Is Jesus serious? Does he not know who this Zacchaeus is? Meanwhile, derisive chants have continued from the crowd:

“Ha! Jesus is going to eat with a sinner who also has no qualms about getting his tunic wrapped around sycamore branches.”

“Cut Jesus some slack. Besides, he’s new to Jericho. He hasn’t had time to figure out whom not to associate with. But what is Zacchaeus doing, promising to give back to those of us he has defrauded, and then some? I cannot trust him. Oh, and Jesus just promised him salvation as a ‘Son of Abraham.’ Who does this fool Jesus think he is?”

Meanwhile, after our audience’s voting, we have surprise co-winners this week on Israel’s Most Ridiculous People: Zacchaeus of Jericho and Jesus of Nazareth! Please join us next week for more laughs at the expense of “Israel’s Most Ridiculous People!”

… Now if only there had been reality television in first-century Israel. But there is something more authentically real than any “reality” show or blooper reel making fun of people who act in ridiculous ways.

Zacchaeus and Jesus would both have made themselves appear utterly ridiculous in this scene from first-century Jericho in Luke’s Gospel (although Luke tells the story with tongue-in-cheek). This scene, while perhaps not calling us to appear ridiculous, does invite us to make ourselves vulnerable.

Zacchaeus’ vulnerability to the point of ridiculousness is how Jesus recognizes him as an authentic “Son of Abraham,” and what leads to Zacchaeus’ salvation.

None of us enjoys when we fail or make ourselves appear ridiculous in front of other people. And yet let us take up our invitation from today’s Gospel reading to make ourselves vulnerable before God and one another as Zacchaeus did.

Let us laugh at our own sometimes blooper-worthy moments. Let us ask one another and God for forgiveness for the times we have sinned. Let us open ourselves to peace with God and with one another, especially with those we find foolish or otherwise hardest to love.

By this kind of vulnerability and authenticity, our true selves, bloopers, sins, and all, are revealed to God. As fearlessly vulnerable and authentic daughters and sons of Abraham; daughters and sons of God: This is how God wills us to appear before him. Then God will do the most ridiculous thing of all: just as with Zacchaeus, God will save us!