Pearls of Great Price

July 27, 2008, 17th Sunday of Ordinary Time
Kings 3:5, 7-12 Romans 8: 28-30 Matthew 13: 44-46

To the churched and unchurched[1]
gathered in a temple not built by human hands[2]

First reading from Kings
3:5, 7-12

The LORD appeared to Solomon in a dream at night. God said, “Ask something of me and I will give it to you.” Solomon answered: “O LORD, my God, you have made me, your servant, king to succeed my father David; but I am a mere youth, not knowing at all how to act. I serve you in the midst of the people whom you have chosen, a people so vast that it cannot be numbered or counted. Give your servant, therefore, an understanding heart to judge your people and to distinguish right from wrong. For who is able to govern this vast people of yours?” The LORD was pleased that Solomon made this request. So God said to him: “Because you have asked for this—not for a long life for yourself, nor for riches, nor for the life of your enemies, but for understanding so that you may know what is right—I do as you requested. I give you a heart so wise and understanding that there has never been anyone like you up to now, and after you there will come no one to equal you.”

Alleluia, alleluia.
A reading from the holy Gospel according to Matthew
13: 44-46
Glory to you, Lord.

Jesus said to his disciples: “The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure buried in a field, which a man finds and hides again, and out of joy goes and sells all that he has and buys that field. Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls, and when he finds a pearl of great price, he goes and sells all that he has and buys it.”

The Gospel of the Lord.
Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

Introduction
Two one-line parables

Here are two parables consisting of one line apiece. In the first, a man was walking through someone’s field and stumbled upon a treasure. [3] Excited over his find he went and sold everything he had to buy the field and ultimately lay hold of the treasure. In the second parable, a merchant, who made his living buying and selling pearls, came upon a prize pearl. He, too, excited by his find, went and sold everything he had to buy the pearl. There is, however, a difference between the two parables: in the one, the man accidentally stumbled upon the hidden treasure, and in the other, the merchant came upon the pearl only after ardently searching for it.
A parable stirs curiosity

A parable is an easy-to-remember one-liner or story. Its humble imagery says more than what at first it seems to say. A parable, therefore, stirs curiosity. We know what a treasure is. But what, we ask, is that treasure which a man stumbled upon in a field and for which he sold all? We know what a pearl is. But what, we ask, is that pearl which a merchant found and for which he sold all?

Is it some enthusiasm which drives us to put all our eggs in one basket and go for it? (Enthusiasm is too energetic a thought for those of us who are weary of all the enthusiasms of the past which have exhausted us, and which we have finally discarded.) Is the gospel treasure or pearl of great price some overriding conviction which dominates our life and commands our time and energy? That, too, sounds a bit exhausting. Is it Paul Tillich’s “Ultimate Concern” which makes life worth living and death worth dying?

All kinds of pearls

There are all kinds of pearls. There are saltwater and freshwater pearls, natural and cultivated pearls, akoya and keshi pearls, black and white pearls, etc. There are all kinds of gospel pearls of great price. Ghandi’s pearl was non-violence. For that he sold everything and bought the pearl. Mother Teresa’s pearl of great price was her pro-life crusade not only for all unborn babies but also for all born adults neglected and dying on the streets of Calcutta. For that she sold everything and bought the pearl. Elie Weisel (noted survivor of the Holocaust and Nobel Prize winner in literature) who has written more than thirty books says he writes about one thing only -- the evil of indifference[4]--nothing else. That is his strange pearl of great price; it is an ominous black pearl. For that he sells everything and buys that priceless but painful pearl.

Not fleshless words but stories

No one-line definitions can do justice to the gospel pearl of great price. Only stories can do it justice. A good story crafted with much flesh and blood can shed more light on the pearl of great price than a thousand disembodied words. For what are stories but words made flesh. Good stories paint pictures, and we humans, who are made of flesh and blood, delight in pictures. Stories stick with us but disembodied words fly away. At the end of the day, story-telling lies at the heart of good religion and preaching.

The pearl a cabby found

Listen to a story told by a cabby. Powerfully enfleshed as it is, it sheds more light on the gospel pearl of great price than a thousand disembodied words. His story doesn’t speak words about the pearl; it paints a picture of the pearl.

Twenty years ago I drove a cab for a living. It was a cowboy’s life for one who didn’t want a boss. What I didn’t realize was that it was also a ministry, a service to others. Because I drove the night shift, my cab became a moving confessional. Passengers climbed in, sat behind me in total anonymity, and told me about their lives. I came upon people whose lives amazed me, ennobled me, made me laugh and weep. But none touched me more than a woman I picked up late one August night.

I was responding to a small call from a small brick duplex in a quiet part of town. I assumed I was being sent to pick up some party people, or someone who just had a fight with a lover, or a worker heading for an early shift at some factory in the industrial part of town. When I arrived at 2:30 a.m., the building was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window.

Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, then drive away. But I had seen too many poor people who depended on a taxi as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door.

This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself. So I walked to the door and knocked. “Just a minute,” answered a frail elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor. After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940 movie. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensil on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

When we got into the cab, she gave me an address, and then asked, “Could you drive through downtown?” “It’s not the shortest way,” I answered quickly. “Oh, I don’t mind,” she answered. “I’m in no hurry. I’m on my way to a hospice.” I looked into the rear mirror. Her eyes were glistening. “I don’t have any family left” she continued. “The doctor says I don’t have very long.”
I quickly reached over and shut off the meter. What route would you like me to take?” I asked. For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had danced as a girl. Sometimes she would ask me to slow down in front of a particular building or corner, and she would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was illuminating the horizon, she suddenly said, “I’m tired. Let’s go now.” We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her. I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

“How much do I owe you?” she asked. “Nothing,” I said. “Oh, you have to make a living,” she answered. “There are other passengers,” I responded. Almost without thinking, I bent down and gave her a big hug. She held on to me tightly. “You gave an old woman a little moment of joy.” She said, “Thank you.” I squeezed her hand, then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me a door shut. It was the sound of a life that was closing.

I didn’t pick up anymore passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if the woman had gotten an angry driver? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?

The cabby ends his story with a bottom line. “As I look back now, I do not think that I have done anything greater or more important in my whole life!”

Those are the words of one who, indeed, has found the gospel pearl of great price. Unlike the pearl merchant, however, the cabby was not ardently seeking the pearl; he stumbled upon it as he was “responding to a small call from a small brick duplex in a quiet part of town.” On second thought, however, in his heart of hearts he was, indeed, ardently seeking the pearl. That’s precisely why he found it! Jesus tells us, “Those who seek [the pearl] shall find [it], and for those who knock the door will be opened.” (Lk 11:10)

Conclusion
The pearl divides us

The pearl of great price divides us into three kinds. There are some of us who, like Ghandi, Mother Teresa, Elie Weisel and the cowboy cabby, seek the pearl and find it.

Then there are some of us who do not find the pearl of great price because we do not seek it, either because we don’t have time or don’t care or don’t need to seek it because we have found a fake pearl which keeps us ambiguously happy.

Finally, there are some of us (maybe many of us) who are seeking the pearl of great price but as yet have not found it. Be encouraged! The cabbie (who was more a cowboy than a saint) at the end of the day found the pearl of great price because down deep in his heart of hearts he was really seeking it. Be encouraged! To those who have not yet found the pearl but are still seeking it the Lord promises, “Those who seek shall find, and for those who knock the door will be opened.” (Lk 11:10)

[1]] By the “the unchurched” is especially meant not those who have left the church but those whom the church has left!

[2] Acts of the Apostles 17:24

[3] In Jesus’ day there were no deposit boxes in banks where people could safeguard their valuables. So they would bury them in some strategic spot out in their field. But the law of the land declared that a treasure belonged to the finder only if he owned the land.

[4] The indifference of the German and Polish people made the Holocaust possible.

Wheat and Weed Side by Side Till Harvest

July 20, 2008, 16th Sunday of Ordinary Time
Wisdom 12: 13, 16-19 Romans 8: 26-27 Matthew 13: 24-30

To the churched and unchurched[1]
gathered in a church not built by human hands[2]

Second reading

Brothers and sisters, the Holy Spirit helps us with our daily problems and in our praying. For we do not even know what we should pray for, nor how to pray as we should; but the Holy Spirit prays for us with such feeling that it cannot be expressed in words. And the Father who knows all hearts knows, of course, what the Spirit is saying as He pleads. (Living Bible translation)

Alleluia, alleluia
A reading from the holy Gospel according to Matthew
Glory to you, Lord

Jesus proposed another parable to the crowds. “The kingdom of heaven may be likened to a farmer who sowed good wheat seed in his field. While everyone was asleep his enemy came and sowed darnel [a poisonous weed] among the wheat, and then went off. When the new wheat sprouted and ripened, the darnel appeared as well. The hired hands approached the farmer and asked, ‘Master, did you not sow good seed in your field? If so, where does the darnel come from?’ He answered, ‘An enemy has done this.’ The hired hands asked, ‘Do you want us to go and weed out the darnel?’ ‘No,’ he replied, `because if you weed out the darnel you might pull out the wheat with it. Let the wheat and weed grow side by side till harvest; then I will say to the harvesters, `First collect the darnel and tie it into bundles for burning. Then gather the wheat into my barn.’”

The Gospel of the Lord
Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

Introduction
Parables of farming

As we are about to pluck our first tomatoes and cucumbers of the season, this is, indeed, the time of the year to be telling parables about farmers and farming. The few farmers left among us, who still put our hands to good Mother Earth, are more turned on by Jesus’ agricultural parables than a supermarket culture which doesn’t have a clue about the food chain.

Darnel – a poisonous weed

This Sunday’s parable is sometimes known as the Parable of the Wheat and Weeds. Sometimes it is known as the Parable of the Wheat and Darnel. The Greek word zizania used in the parable is sometimes translated as “weed.” It is more exactly translated as “darnel.” In the parable Jesus is referring to a weed called darnel which looks exactly like wheat in its young stages. In fact, only an expert can distinguish some kinds of darnel from true wheat. Later on, the differences are remarkable. The darnel has far smaller seeds than wheat. It is claimed that these seeds, when ground to flour, are poisonous, due perhaps to a particular fungus which develops in the seed itself. So “An enemy had done this” takes on more meaning when we understand that the weed in question is the very bad darnel weed.

Parables about patience

Last Sunday Jesus told a parable about a farmer who went out to sow grain in his field, and it fell into the various furrows of the human condition. This Sunday Jesus tells us a parable about another farmer who has sown wheat in his field. As the days go by, he discovers he has a bumper crop of darnel weeds springing up in his field. The hired hands come rushing in exclaiming, “Master, did you not sow good wheat grain in your field? How come there is so much darnel springing up all over?” The master thinks an enemy -- perhaps an angry neighboring farmer -- has done this. The hired hands are impatient and want to rush out and rip up the darnel.

The master, however, is a better farmer than the hired hands. “Be patient,” he tells them. “If you rip up the darnel now, you're going to rip up the wheat as well. Let wheat and weed be side by side till harvest. Then I will tell the harvesters to pull up the darnel, tie it into bundles and burn it. Then they may gather the wheat and put it into my bins.” (Mt. 13:24-30) The parable is about patience.

It reminds us of another of Jesus’ parable: that of the Unfruitful Fig Tree. A farmer has a fig tree growing in his vineyard. He becomes impatient with it because it never produces any figs. So he commands his hired hand to cut it down because it was taking up space that could be used for something else. In this parable, however, it is the hired hand who is a better farmer than the master. “Be patient,” he tells his master. “Let’s give the tree one more chance, and let’s let it be for one more year. In the meantime, I’ll give it special care and plenty of fertilizer. If then we get figs next year, fine; if not, then I’ll cut it down.” (Lk 13:6- 9) That parable, too, is about patience.

An all-pervasive mix

The human condition is an all-pervasive mix of wheat and weed. The mix runs through everything. All human joy is a mix; there's always some shadow that falls upon it, and the greater the joy, the greater the shadow. All human beings are a mix. The saints we canonize aren’t as good, and the sinners we denounce aren’t as bad, as we make them out to be. Our kids, our spouses and we ourselves are a mix of wheat and weeds. Our humility is tinged with pride; our generosity is faintly sprinkled over with self-interest; our so- called God-centered lives subtly point also to ourselves.

Even the church is a mix of wheat and weed -- of saints and sinners. If that lesson of Jesus’ parable had been more firmly imbedded in our hearts and heads, we Catholics would not have suffered so drastically upon the revelation of clergy sex abuse. Catholics, who lose sight of their church’s weedy side, brook no criticism of their “Holy Mother Church.” Since the mix of wheat and weed will always be present in the church right up to the Day of Harvest, the true church of Christ is always an ecclesia reformanda – always a church in need of reform.

Patience –not a shabby word

The mix of wheat and darnel weed will always be present in the human condition right up to the Day of Harvest -- the Day of the Great Clarification -- when finally the field of wheat will be cleared of the darnel. It will finally be ripped up, tied into bundles and cast into fire, and then the golden grains of wheat will be gathered into bins. Until then, however, patience!

Patience is not a shabby word. It comes from the Latin patior which means to suffer. Patience is the power to suffer postponing ripping up the darnel (or cutting down the fruitless fig tree) when the situation on the ground seems to call for that. Patience is the power to suffer the mix of the human condition until the Day of Harvest.

The mix in Tony Snow

Tony Snow, whose religious faith, superb communication skills and work ethic propelled him to prominence in the media world, died in the early morning hours of July 12, 2008, after a long courageous battle with colon cancer.

In May of 2007, the Catholic University of America honored Snow by asking him to give the annual commencement address to the graduates. The address was characteristically blunt and practical, and at times it rose to the level of inspired insight. He told the graduates to “Heed the counsel of your elders, including your parents. I guarantee you, they have made some howling mistakes if, like me, they were in college in the ’70s and ’80s. They probably haven’t owned up to them, but they might now, because they want to protect you. You see, they know that you are leaving the nest. And now that you’re leaving the nest, predators soon will begin to circle.” Then he told the graduates to "Be patient. If somebody tries to give you a hard sell, you know they’re peddling snake oil.” Again he told them to “Be patient. If your gut tells you something’s fishy, trust your gut.”

He told them also to “Think not only of what it means to love but also what it means to be loved. I have a lot of experience with that. Since the news that I have cancer again, I have heard from thousands and thousands of people, and I have been the subject of untold prayers. I’m telling you right now: You’re young [and you feel] bullet-proof and invincible. [But] never underestimate the power of other people’s love and prayer. They have incredible power. It’s as if I’ve been carried on the shoulders of an entire army. And they had made me weightless.”
The manner and the message of Snow’s address showed the mighty mettle of the man.
Tony Snow was a very patient man. He had great powers to suffer the mix of wheat and darnel in his very short life. Nothing proved that more powerfully than the eternal smile that illumined his handsome face through thick and thin.

Conclusion
The mix is over

Divine patience is God’s power to suffer the mix in us. It is God’s power not to love the wheat and not to hate the weed in us, but simply to love us, period! That’s called Amazing Grace.

Human patience is our power to suffer the mix in each other and in human condition in general. Sometimes we can be proactively patient by hoeing around the barren fig tree, fertilizing it and giving it a second chance. Sometimes there is simply nothing we can do but patiently endure the darnel until the Day of Harvest. The Day of Harvest has come for Tony Snow. The darnel of his cancer has been ripped up, tied into bundles and burned. And the golden grain of his goodness has now been gathered into the bins of eternal life.

[1]] By the “the unchurched” is especially meant not those who have left the church but those whom the church has left!

[2] Acts of the Apostles 17:24

Bloom Wherever You Are

“A farmer went out to sow grain in his field.”

July 13, 2008, 15th Sunday of Ordinary Time
Isaiah 55: 10-11 Romans 8: 18-23 Matthew 13: 1-9

To the churched and unchurched[1]
gathered in a church not built by human hands[2]

First reading from Isaiah

Thus says the LORD: Just as from the heavens the rain and snow come down and do not return there till they have watered the earth, making it fertile and fruitful, giving seed to the one who sows and bread to the one who eats, so shall my word be that goes forth from my mouth; my word shall not return to me void, but shall do my will, achieving the end for which I sent it.

Second reading from Romans

Brothers and sisters: I consider that what we suffer now is nothing compared to the glory He will give us later. For all creation is waiting patiently and hopefully for that future day when God will resurrect His children. For on that day thorns and thistles, sin, death, and decay – the things that overcame this world against its will at God’s command – will all disappear, and the world around us will share in the glorious freedom from sin which God’s children enjoy. For we know that even the things of nature, like animals and plants, suffer sickness and death as they await this great event. And even we Christians, although we have the Holy Spirit within us as a foretaste of future glory, also groan to be released from pain and suffering. (Living Bible translation)

Alleluia, alleluia.
A reading from the holy Gospel according to Matthew
Glory to you, Lord.

That same day Jesus left the house and sat by the seaside. Such large crowds gathered around him that he got into a boat and sat down, while the whole crowd stood along the shore. Then He spoke to them at length in parables. “A farmer went out to sow grain in his fields. As he sowed, some seed fell on a footpath, and birds came and ate it up. Some fell on rocky ground, where it had little soil. It sprang up at once because the soil was not deep, and when the sun rose it was scorched, and it withered for lack of roots. Some seed fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked it. But some seed fell on rich soil and produced fruit, a hundred or sixty or thirty-fold. Whoever has ears ought to hear.”

The Gospel of the Lord.
Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

Introduction
Seaside parables

Chapter 13 of Matthew relates that Jesus left the house and went to the sea and there taught the people by means of parables. The chapter lines up five seaside parables of Jesus: the Parable of the Sower (18-23), of the Yeast (33), of the Hidden Treasure, (44), of the Pearl (45-46) and the Parable of the Net (47-50).

The purpose of parables

A parable[3] is a simple, easy-to-remember story told with humble imagery and bearing a single message. It says something more than what at first it seems to be saying. As such, a parable is a kind of riddle. It has a light and dark side, and that stirs curiosity and calls for a response from the listener. "He who has ears to hear, let him hear." (Mt 13:9)

One day the disciples asked Jesus why he always spoke to them in parables, i. e., in hard-to-understand illustrations? (Mt 13:10) Enigmatically He told them that by speaking in parables He divides men into two groups: those who are capable of spiritual insight and would understand what He is saying, and those who are not spiritual and wouldn’t understand. “This is why I speak to them [with no spiritual insight] in parables, so that seeing they do not see and hearing they do not hear and do not understand what I am saying.” (Mt 13:13)

Birth: an unfair sower

The Parable of the Sower is the first of the seaside parables. It is found in all of the Synoptic Gospels. (Mt 13:1-23, Mk 4:1-20, Lk 8:1-15) It is also found in the non-canonical Gospel of Thomas. (Thomas 9) A farmer went out to sow grain in his field. Some of it fell on a footpath, and the birds ate it up. Some fell on rocky ground where it couldn’t sink roots, and it died in the noon-day sun. Some fell among thorns and thistles which grew up and choked it. But some of the grain fell upon rich soil and produced a crop that was thirty, sixty and even a hundred times as much as he had planted. (Mt 13: 1-8)

I never get beyond this point in the parable. I always feel sorry for the poor seed which landed on a footpath or on rocks or on thorns and thistles, while other seed landed on fertile soil. My take on the parable is that birth (that sower of life) is downright unfair! On the one hand, it casts some upon a footpath to be trampled under foot by others, or upon rocky ground to be deprived of physical and psychological nutriments, or among thorns and thistles to be suffocated by the problems of life. On the other hand, birth casts others upon fertile soil, where they produce a rich harvest of their potential. Some of us are luckily born, and some of us are not. Birth is downright unfair!

A lucky dog & an unlucky dog

It’s downright unfair not only for humans but also for animals. My dog Simeon, a yellow lab, was luckily born. His pedigree states that his father’s name is Shadowlake Sun and his mother’s name is Carly. The names of his two grandfathers are Gordie Boy and Casey. I actually consider it a privilege to be his chauffer as he sits in the back of my roomy Toyota Rav.

Across the alley from me, however, was a poor black lab, unluckily born and, indeed, without pedigree. Sometimes he was chained to a car (!) even on a hot summer day. At times, I would stealthily give him cool water to slake his thirst. I even mustered up enough courage to confront the human beings capable of such inhumanness. I thought of stealing him or unchaining him in the dark of night and setting him free to go in search of a more humane society. All the while before me was the thought of my dog Simeon, son of father Shadowlake Sun and of mother Carly, being chauffeured in a roomy Rav. The contrasting thought makes me angrily cry out, “Foul! Foul! Birth is downright unfair!” It is then that I know for sure there is a heaven for dogs, just as there is a heaven for human beings where the downright unfair birth of both is set right.

The second reading today says that all creation groans in labor pains as it awaits the great event which will give all of creation new bodies which can never get sick again and die. (Rm 8:22-23) The Living Bible’s translation of this passage offers great comfort to animal lovers. It reads, “For we know that even the things of nature, like animals and plants, suffer in sickness and death as they await this great event.” (Rm 8:22) Animals and plants, too, await the great day. Animals and plants, too, will reap the same freedom and glory promised to us humans. In the new heaven and new earth (Rev 21:20) we humans will not be all alone or lonely. There will also be animals and plants there with us to help make heaven heavenly!

Our stories

We all have a story behind ourselves. In our story we are all cast randomly as seed into the furrows of life. My story is about my Italian immigrant parents who came to this country in the early part of the last century. Our mother was taken from us at a very early age. That left our father without a helpmate in a foreign land, my sister and I without a mother and our house without a soul.

No Good Samaritans stopped to pour the oil of compassion upon our immigrant family waylaid on the road to Jericho. Perhaps neighbors were conveniently quoting the rule to mind one’s own business. Perhaps they were heeding the strange warning that no good deed goes unpunished. Perhaps they simply did not know what to do with immigrants who didn’t speak English well. Whatever it was I don’t know, but upon such inhospitable terrain my sister and I were randomly cast as seed into the furrows of life.

A story is for telling. It is important to tell our story especially to ourselves. Those who never tell their story, at least to themselves, never really get to know who they are and what makes them tick. And given the right moment and the right reasons, it is also good to tell our story to others. We tell our story not as an excuse for this or that but as an explanation of who we are and what makes us tick. That will help us discern what we should be doing to dig ourselves out of our story, if, indeed, we have been snowbound by it

Telling my story

My story, which often lacked the compassion of good Samaritans, by some sort of reverse psychology makes me compassionate. That black lab chained to a car fills me not only with a raging anger but also with great compassion. Years ago I found a cat dying in the alley. Compassion made me pick her up and nurse her back to health. Now she luxuriates as queen, totally oblivious of her rags to riches story. One late fall day I found a tree lying half-dead in an empty city lot. When the whistle blew for quitting time, city workers threw it off to the side, went home for supper and never returned to plant it. With compassion even for a seedling tree I picked it up and placed it into the bosom of mother earth on the shortest day of the year, Dec. 21, 1997. Now the tree luxuriates as a thriving magnificent silver maple with a huge glorious crown.

Despite my story or perhaps because of it, I never pass by anything lying wounded on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho, be it a black lab, an alley cat or an abandoned tree. I always slam on the breaks of my busyness to stop and pour the oil of compassion. And if, for some reason, I can’t stop, I always pass by feeling, if not guilty, at least very sad. Because of my story, for me the supreme text of all Scripture is that mother of all Jesus’ parables: the Good Samaritan.

Conclusion
Bloom wherever we are

Compassion, by some strange reverse of psychology, sprang up and blossomed out of harsh terrain. At the end of the day, birth, environment and the furrows of life do not explain everything. Into the mix enters an absolutely mysterious element that can knock the wind out of all our predictions and prognostications.

A farmer went out to sow grain in his field. Some seed fell upon rocky ground. So what! Isaiah promises that the desert will rejoice, and flowers will bloom even in the wasteland (Is 35: 1). Some seed fell upon a footpath. So what! Even out of harsh terrain compassion can spring up. Some fell among weeds and thistles. So what! Daffodils and crocus in early spring break through the snowdrifts above them, and show us how to bloom wherever we are.

[1]] By the “the unchurched” is especially meant not those who have left the church but those whom the church has left!

[2] Acts of the Apostles 17:24

[3] The Greek word for parable literally means "to place beside." A parable illuminates a spiritual truth by placing it beside an earthly reality.

Yoke-Mates

July 6, 2008, 14th Sunday of Ordinary Time
Zechariah 9:9-10 Romans 8:9, 11-13 Matthew 11:25-30

To the churched and unchurched[1]
gathered in a church not built by human hands[2]

Second reading

Brothers and sisters: You are not in the flesh; on the contrary, you are in the spirit, if only the Spirit of God dwells in you. Whoever does not have the Spirit of Christ does not belong to him. If the Spirit of the one who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, the one who raised Christ from the dead will give life to your mortal bodies also, through his Spirit that dwells in you. Consequently, brothers and sisters, we are not debtors to the flesh, to live according to the flesh. For if you live according to the flesh, you will die, but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live. (Rom 8:9, 11-13)

Alleluia, alleluia.
A reading from the holy Gospel according to Matthew
Glory to you, Lord.

At that time Jesus exclaimed: “I give praise to you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, for although you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned you have revealed them to little ones. Yes, Father, such has been your gracious will. All things have been handed over to me by my Father. No one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son wishes to reveal Him.”All you who work so hard under a heavy yoke come to me, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble, and you will find rest for yourselves. For my yoke is easy to bear, my burden is light. (Mt 11:25-30)

The Gospel of the Lord.
Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

Introduction
A yoke

Yoke comes from the Latin jungere which means to join. A yoke of oxen are two oxen joined together to pull a heavy load. The yoke itself is a wooden crosspiece bound to the necks of a pair of oxen by a U-shaped piece called the oxbow. It is carefully shaped so that it does not chafe the oxen which have a great reputation for being humble, gentle and patient. The yoke is a wonderful artifact; it enables a very heavy load to be pulled by the combined strength of two oxen.

The yoke of the scribes & Pharisees

Yoke, however, can also have a negative meaning like servitude, bondage, or burden. When the Protestant theologian Paul Tillich was preparing for Confirmation, all in the class had to choose a meaningful text of Scripture. Tillich chose, “Come to me, all you who labor and are heavily burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble, and you will find rest for yourselves. For my yoke is easy to bear, my burden is light. (Mt 11: 25-30) When asked about his choice, he was a bit lost for words, for as a young kid he was fairly happy and free of problems. Later he wrote that those words of the gospel resonate in the hearts of all ages, young and old, for everyone labors, and everyone is heavily burdened one way or the other.

The yoke of religion

Years later Tillich wrote an essay on his Confirmation text, and entitled it, The Yoke of Religion. In it he claimed that the yoke Jesus came to lift from the people’s backs was the onerous religion of His day and culture! (Tillich’s words scandalized pious ears or at least perked them up.) That religion was the creation and accretion of the Scribes and Pharisee, the religious leaders of His day. They turned the Law of Moses into an accretion 613 major laws to be scrupulously observed by the faithful Jew. In the course of time, the rabbis wishing to ritualize God’s presence in the smallest details of daily life added to the 613 major laws a whole constellation of minor laws, rules and regulations, also to be scrupulously observed. All that rested heavily upon people’s backs, and Jesus encouraged them saying, “Come to me all you who are heavily burdened, and I will give you rest [from the 613 plus laws].”


When a dispute arose in the early church about whether Gentile converts to Christianity should be circumcised and forced to obey the 613 plus laws, the nascent church held its first council in Jerusalem (50 A.D.). Peter got up and announced that it is belief in Jesus that saves, not the observance of the Law of Moses. Then he made a very frank admission, “Why place on the backs of Gentile converts a yoke which neither our ancestors nor we ourselves were able to carry?” (Acts 15:10)

A yoke we could not bear

Some of us Catholics recall how heavily burdened we ourselves were right up to the very eve of the opening of the Second Vatican Council, October 11, 1962. We recall our own maze of 613 laws, plus countless rules and regulations. We remember how one piece of meat eaten on a Friday, how one sin hidden in Confession, how one sexual thought entertained with delight, how one gulp of water swallowed before Communion, how one Mass missed of a Sunday morning --- we remember how that all weighted us down in those days as we trod the path to salvation. Then Vatican II dawned upon us and lifted a heavy burden from our backs.

Our yen for yokes

Tillich presents an interesting psychological explanation of the nervous religious bent in us. He says we humans know how limited and finite, how transitory and precarious human life is. We know how dangerous and tragic human life can be. That fills us with anxiety and restlessness which we try to overcome by being religious. So we accept dogmas and religious practices which supposedly will free us from our anxiety and restlessness. Eventually they become yokes for us, and we cast them off.

But no one can live long in the emptiness of skepticism or unbelief, Tillich writes. So we do one of two things. We return to our old yokes and take them up again with a kind of vengeance and fanaticism, and we even seek to impose them upon others. Or we look for a new religious yoke to attach to our oxen necks -- one more to our liking but yoke nevertheless. (That rings a bell for those who have a loved one who has exchanged the “yoke of Christianity” for the yoke of Buddhism or Judaism or Islam.)

Tillich summarizes everything when he writes of “Christian people in Christian Churches toiling and laboring away under innumerable laws which they cannot fulfill, from which they flee, to which they return, or which they replace by other laws." (The Yoke of Religion)

The yoke of Jesus

Jesus did not come to help us carry the burden of religion; He came, instead, to lift it from our backs. All the other burdens of life Jesus does not lift from our backs but comes to help us carry them.

Sooner or later, we are all burdened one way or the other. The human journey is a burden even for the fortunate and blessed. Growing up with all the hits and misses, all the wrong turns and detours it takes before we find ourselves is a heavy burden. Submitting to the ordeal of getting an education in order to survive in a modern and technological age is a heavy burden. Making marriage work and raising kids we can be proud of in a world beset with so many distractions, addictions and temptations is a heavy burden. Saying painful goodbyes to people and places and moving on to the next stage of life is, indeed, a heavy burden. Disappointment, sickness, tragedy is a burden we all confront sooner or late. Jesus does not lift these burdens from our backs but comes to help us carry them.

Conclusion
Yoke-mates

A yoke is a team of two. Faith is the consoling conviction that God and we are yoked together. It is the quiet conviction that in pulling the heavy loads of life we are not alone; God is our yoke-mate. We rarely come to that conviction through a startling revelation from above. It comes mostly from below. It comes especially from the loving people around us who are yoke-mates helping us pull the heavy loads of life. At the end of the day, it is they who help us believe that God also is our yoke-mate.

[1]] By the “the unchurched” is especially meant not those who have left the church but those whom the church has left!

[2] Acts of the Apostles 17:24