Community is worth fighting for: homily for the 26th Sunday of Ordinary Time

Homily for the 26th Sunday of Ordinary Time (A)

The preaching of St. Paul, Boroea, Greece

When I get near the end of my time in Rapid City every summer—or this year, fall—I feel a little nostalgic.  It helps me to imagine how St. Paul would have felt throughout his ministry, founding communities and then having to move on.  He invested himself completely into each one; he made friends; he faced opposition, persecution, and disease; sometimes he owed his survival to the care he received from the Christians in each place.  And because it was much harder for Paul to travel by foot and ship across the Mediterranean than it is for me to book an airline ticket across the Atlantic, I find the yearning and love expressed in his letters particularly poignant.  This is especially the case in his letter to the Philippians.  

Not all of Paul’s letters are as warm as the one to the Philippians.  (The Philippians, just so we’re clear, were residents of the city of Philippi in northern Greece, not to be confused with Filipinos who come from islands in the Pacific.)  In some letters—to the Corinthians, for example—Paul is in battle mode, trying to straighten out bad behavior.  He wrote his letter to the Romans before he arrived in Rome, so it’s sort of an introduction and also a fundraising appeal.  But Paul knows the Philippians well; he describes them as his partners for the Gospel from the first day.  His letter to them was written from prison, probably in Rome.  Contemplating the quarantine that awaits me on my own return to Rome, this is also something I can relate to.  But despite these circumstances, Paul’s letter to the Philippians overflows with joy and peace.  It’s obvious that his affection for the little church in Philippi is a comfort to him even in imprisonment.  He writes, “I am confident… that the one who began a good work in you will continue to complete it until the day of Christ Jesus.”  Paul knows that we can never just tread water in the life of discipleship.  We must always keep striving.  So the letter is an exhortation to continue to grow in Christ, but its tone is more that of encouragement than a call to repent.  

Now you are probably used to being told not to take certain parts of the Bible literally.  Today, however, I’m going to tell you to do the opposite.  Read St. Paul’s words to the Philippians, and take them as if they were addressed to you, as if the letter began, “to all the holy ones of Christ Jesus who are in Rapid City.”  And take these words literally: “If there is any encouragement in Christ, any solace in love, any participation in the Spirit, any compassion and mercy, complete my joy by being of the same mind, with the same love, united in heart, thinking one thing.  Do nothing out of selfishness or out of vainglory; rather, humbly regard others as more important than yourselves, each looking out not for his own interests, but also for those of others.  Have in you the same attitude that is also in Christ Jesus.”

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Fresh insights in sacramental theology

My summer reading this year included Fr. José Granados’s excellent book Introduction to Sacramental Theology: Signs of Christ in the Flesh, which Catholic University of America Press has recently made available in English. (The Spanish original Tratado General de los Sacramentos came out in 2016.)

Like the Church Fathers, Granados emphasizes the rootedness of the sacraments in the Incarnation of Jesus. This means giving due importance–too often lacking in theology–to the human body, which is the locus for all of our relationships.

The sacraments tell us that the message of Jesus is always rooted in the concrete relations that we form in our flesh.

José Granados, Introduction to Sacramental Theology, xiv

The book’s preface eloquently identifies the fundamental desire to which the sacraments respond, our need for the presence of Jesus:

“We have his parables, we lack the sight of him; we have his commandments, we lack his voice; we have the strength of his commission, we lack the touch of his arms. Without the second, the first loses its foundations: doctrine that is clear but abstract; morality that is superior but utopian; mission that is great but irrelevant.” (xiii-xiv)

The sacraments provide what is missing.

This leads to surprising conclusions about the need for a sacramental basis for today’s evangelization. A fairly common error is to think that responding to the needs of the modern world means conforming to the modern world; really, it means offering what contemporary life lacks.

“In fact, the great evil that afflicts the postmodern subject is his isolation in the cell of subjectivity. What remains is a weak individual who moves to the tune of his most intense feeling, with no relations to sustain him and with no path to bring him to his destination. We will not cure this sickness by proposing that he encounter God in the depths of his soul. For his real problem is the lack of relational environments that would enable him to understand his true identity, which is always discovered and forged in an encounter and a communion.” (383)