Reflection on the Readings for the 21st Sunday of Ordinary Time - Year B
By Fr. Maximilian Buonocore, OSB
Readings:
Joshua 24:1-2a, 15-17, 18b
Ephesians 5:21-32
John 6:60-69
Once a priest [not me] was delivering a homily with much gusto and enthusiasm on the challenges of the Ten Commandments. “Thou shalt not kill!” he boomed as his right hand made a sweeping cut through the air. A fired-up member of the congregation in the front row exclaimed in agreement, “Amen, Father, amen.” “Thou shalt not steal!” the priest fulminated. “Amen!” said another parishioner, responding enthusiastically. “Thou shalt not bear false witness!” The whole congregation started responding, “Amen.” With the tension rising to electric pitch, the preacher then declared with a loud voice, “Thou shalt not commit adultery.” Suddenly the congregation became silent, and, after a few moments a parishioner spoke up, “Now, now, Father,” he said, “you have stopped preaching. Now you’re meddling.”
We don’t like when Jesus gets too close for comfort in his demands on us. We want to be good, but we cringe when he ups the moral bar. In the reading from Ephesians, we hear St. Paul tell us about the high bar that Jesus has set for marriage. Divorce, which was always a universally accepted practice, is now, according to Jesus’ teaching, no longer morally acceptable, making the moral bar for living as a virtuous spouse much higher. In Matthew 5 (Verse 28), Jesus teaches that it is not enough just to refrain from adultery. “I tell you,” he says, “that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart,” again, raising the bar for sexual morality. He also declares that refraining from committing violence against a brother with whom you are angry is not morally virtuous enough. “Anyone who is angry with his brother is liable to judgment (Mathew 5:22). “Everyone who hates his brother is a murderer, and you know that no murderer has eternal life remaining in him.” (1 John 15). Just being obedient to the Law is no longer enough for moral virtue that is sanctifying. Moral virtue that leads to holiness does not come from obeying the Law which one can do by one’s own power. True moral virtue is not so much externally demanding, but internally demanding. Moral virtue that is sanctifying can only come from the power of love - a power deep within which has a supernatural origin. “It is the spirit that gives life, while the flesh is of no avail.” (John 6:63) A person who seeks true and sanctifying virtue seeks to obey this law of love which flows from the spirit and is deeply personal. Although it makes use of our natural powers, its origin is supernatural. In the Gospel reading, we hear Jesus tell us how we are empowered to meet the internally demanding, high moral bar that he has set for us. The challenges that he has set before us require no less than that we eat the flesh, and drink the blood, of the Son of Man - that we daily consume the Bread come down from heaven. The challenges associated with taking up our cross daily and following Christ demand that we follow the Holy One of God into the zone of mystery. Faith is the vehicle for navigating in the zone of mystery. This is hard for many. In today’s Gospel passage, we heard that many of Jesus’ disciples who were listening to him said, “This saying is hard; who can accept it?” [The Greek word in this gospel is skleros which means “not hard to understand but hard to accept.”] The people from old had understood the bread of life and the importance of blood and the symbolism being presented. What was hard to accept was submitting to Jesus and the height to which Jesus was raising the moral bar – the extent to which he was raising moral standards. It wasn’t enough to just obey the law in order to be holy. To be truly holy, one has to descend the ladder of humility and ascend the ladder of charity. He was demanding complete surrender. Surrender and change your life if you want to reach the highest levels of morality. “Do you also want to leave?” he asks us.
On days when the Lord is raising the bar on where he wants me to go in virtue, he asks me the question: “Do you also want to leave?” I can in that moment do as some of Jesus’ disciples did and turn away in my heart - shunning the Bread of Life - and return at that moment to my former way of life - my former way of thinking and attitudes which place me back in my comfort zone, back in the zone of the things that I can easily access and understand; back into the space of self-interest, back in the zone of my need to be right, my need to be in control, my need to cling to justifiable anger at someone else, etc., etc. Or, I can respond as Peter did, saying in my heart, “Master, to whom shall I go? You have the words of eternal life.” Today I said to the Lord, “I didn’t kill my confrere today.” “That is not enough,” he replies. “Well, I have not sought any retributive justice or restorative justice against him.” “That is not enough,” he says to me again. “Well, Lord, I have been gracious toward him and interacting with him as if nothing is wrong.” “That is not enough,” the Lord insists. “Well, Lord, then what is it that you want me to do?” “I want you to seek total reconciliation with him,” is the Lord’s reply to me.” “But, Lord, I cannot do that.” “Then,” the Lord says, “Do you also want to leave?” I am tempted to say yes, but the words of St. Peter come to me: “Lord, to whom shall I go? You have the words of eternal life.” And, even without understanding where his challenge at that moment is taking me, I follow him into the realm of compromising self-interest; the realm of letting go of the need to be in control and the need to be right; I follow him into the realm of letting go of the need to cling even to justifiable anger. I follow him with the vehicle for navigating mystery - the vehicle of faith - and enter into the unknown space of mercy and love. I enter fearlessly into the mysterious space where the Holy One of God dwells, saying, as Peter said, “I have come to believe and am convinced that you are the Holy One of God.” Decisions made in faith involve taking a risk, and we usually take a risk only for the things that we believe are of great value. Further, we believe that the bigger the risk we have to take, the greater the value of the reward that we deserve. This is very true, and there is, at the same time, no greater risk and no greater reward than being in the company of the Holy One of God. But being in the company of the Holy One of God continually brings challenges my way: “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you;” “forgive your brother seventy times seven times;” “take up your cross and follow me.” And this means daily entering the space of mystery and consuming the flesh and blood of the Son of God, daily entering into the Eucharistic space - in the mysterious zone of communion in the Body of Christ; the zone of spirit and life.
Let us, each day, examine how the Lord is raising the bar of moral virtue for us, and, as we grow burdened by the challenges that he places before us, hearing him say, “Do you also want to leave and return to your former way of life?” we will unhesitatingly respond with Peter: “Master, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.”
Once a priest [not me] was delivering a homily with much gusto and enthusiasm on the challenges of the Ten Commandments. “Thou shalt not kill!” he boomed as his right hand made a sweeping cut through the air. A fired-up member of the congregation in the front row exclaimed in agreement, “Amen, Father, amen.” “Thou shalt not steal!” the priest fulminated. “Amen!” said another parishioner, responding enthusiastically. “Thou shalt not bear false witness!” The whole congregation started responding, “Amen.” With the tension rising to electric pitch, the preacher then declared with a loud voice, “Thou shalt not commit adultery.” Suddenly the congregation became silent, and, after a few moments a parishioner spoke up, “Now, now, Father,” he said, “you have stopped preaching. Now you’re meddling.”
We don’t like when Jesus gets too close for comfort in his demands on us. We want to be good, but we cringe when he ups the moral bar. In the reading from Ephesians, we hear St. Paul tell us about the high bar that Jesus has set for marriage. Divorce, which was always a universally accepted practice, is now, according to Jesus’ teaching, no longer morally acceptable, making the moral bar for living as a virtuous spouse much higher. In Matthew 5 (Verse 28), Jesus teaches that it is not enough just to refrain from adultery. “I tell you,” he says, “that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart,” again, raising the bar for sexual morality. He also declares that refraining from committing violence against a brother with whom you are angry is not morally virtuous enough. “Anyone who is angry with his brother is liable to judgment (Mathew 5:22). “Everyone who hates his brother is a murderer, and you know that no murderer has eternal life remaining in him.” (1 John 15). Just being obedient to the Law is no longer enough for moral virtue that is sanctifying. Moral virtue that leads to holiness does not come from obeying the Law which one can do by one’s own power. True moral virtue is not so much externally demanding, but internally demanding. Moral virtue that is sanctifying can only come from the power of love - a power deep within which has a supernatural origin. “It is the spirit that gives life, while the flesh is of no avail.” (John 6:63) A person who seeks true and sanctifying virtue seeks to obey this law of love which flows from the spirit and is deeply personal. Although it makes use of our natural powers, its origin is supernatural. In the Gospel reading, we hear Jesus tell us how we are empowered to meet the internally demanding, high moral bar that he has set for us. The challenges that he has set before us require no less than that we eat the flesh, and drink the blood, of the Son of Man - that we daily consume the Bread come down from heaven. The challenges associated with taking up our cross daily and following Christ demand that we follow the Holy One of God into the zone of mystery. Faith is the vehicle for navigating in the zone of mystery. This is hard for many. In today’s Gospel passage, we heard that many of Jesus’ disciples who were listening to him said, “This saying is hard; who can accept it?” [The Greek word in this gospel is skleros which means “not hard to understand but hard to accept.”] The people from old had understood the bread of life and the importance of blood and the symbolism being presented. What was hard to accept was submitting to Jesus and the height to which Jesus was raising the moral bar – the extent to which he was raising moral standards. It wasn’t enough to just obey the law in order to be holy. To be truly holy, one has to descend the ladder of humility and ascend the ladder of charity. He was demanding complete surrender. Surrender and change your life if you want to reach the highest levels of morality. “Do you also want to leave?” he asks us.
On days when the Lord is raising the bar on where he wants me to go in virtue, he asks me the question: “Do you also want to leave?” I can in that moment do as some of Jesus’ disciples did and turn away in my heart - shunning the Bread of Life - and return at that moment to my former way of life - my former way of thinking and attitudes which place me back in my comfort zone, back in the zone of the things that I can easily access and understand; back into the space of self-interest, back in the zone of my need to be right, my need to be in control, my need to cling to justifiable anger at someone else, etc., etc. Or, I can respond as Peter did, saying in my heart, “Master, to whom shall I go? You have the words of eternal life.” Today I said to the Lord, “I didn’t kill my confrere today.” “That is not enough,” he replies. “Well, I have not sought any retributive justice or restorative justice against him.” “That is not enough,” he says to me again. “Well, Lord, I have been gracious toward him and interacting with him as if nothing is wrong.” “That is not enough,” the Lord insists. “Well, Lord, then what is it that you want me to do?” “I want you to seek total reconciliation with him,” is the Lord’s reply to me.” “But, Lord, I cannot do that.” “Then,” the Lord says, “Do you also want to leave?” I am tempted to say yes, but the words of St. Peter come to me: “Lord, to whom shall I go? You have the words of eternal life.” And, even without understanding where his challenge at that moment is taking me, I follow him into the realm of compromising self-interest; the realm of letting go of the need to be in control and the need to be right; I follow him into the realm of letting go of the need to cling even to justifiable anger. I follow him with the vehicle for navigating mystery - the vehicle of faith - and enter into the unknown space of mercy and love. I enter fearlessly into the mysterious space where the Holy One of God dwells, saying, as Peter said, “I have come to believe and am convinced that you are the Holy One of God.” Decisions made in faith involve taking a risk, and we usually take a risk only for the things that we believe are of great value. Further, we believe that the bigger the risk we have to take, the greater the value of the reward that we deserve. This is very true, and there is, at the same time, no greater risk and no greater reward than being in the company of the Holy One of God. But being in the company of the Holy One of God continually brings challenges my way: “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you;” “forgive your brother seventy times seven times;” “take up your cross and follow me.” And this means daily entering the space of mystery and consuming the flesh and blood of the Son of God, daily entering into the Eucharistic space - in the mysterious zone of communion in the Body of Christ; the zone of spirit and life.
Let us, each day, examine how the Lord is raising the bar of moral virtue for us, and, as we grow burdened by the challenges that he places before us, hearing him say, “Do you also want to leave and return to your former way of life?” we will unhesitatingly respond with Peter: “Master, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.”
