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Today’s gospel story
presents a contrast of two feasts, Herod’s feast—which
precedes and today’s gospel only alludes to—and
Jesus’ feast—which
is the actual subject of today’s gospel story.
The first feast—which
might be called “the feast of this kingdom”—is
Herod’s feast. It was a “hot ticket,” a feast for the few who slavered
at the idea of receiving an invitation to attend and would be quite
“willing to kill for” (something that unfortunately for John the Baptist
was literally true). This feast featured a gathering of the hoi
polloi at the King's palace and a sumptuous banquet. And, as the
scene unfolded at this feast, it was replete with every type of
intrigue, sort of like one of those “who killed the chef” mystery
dinners. There was pride, arrogance, conniving, scheming, and murder.
The second feast—which
might be called “the feast of God’s kingdom”—was
a picnic that took place somewhere out in the middle of nowhere. This
feast, hosted by Jesus and something less than a hot ticket, was one for
the many to attend. All they had to do was to show up. There was no
intrigue and very little food—perhaps
this feast was boring in comparison to Herod’s feast—but
this second feast is replete with a challenge to every disciple
concerning what one must do when “there’s nothing in it for me.” You
know, the “Honey, let’s go to the opera (or ballet)” challenge. Or, the
“Honey, let’s watch this afternoon’s baseball game” challenge. And the
“Mom and Dad, can we go to Saturday night’s rock concert at the
Spectrum?” challenge.
While Herod’s feast
promised to satisfy every physical desire for a very limited number of
special guests whose self-esteem hinged upon being invited to the
palace, Jesus’ picnic satisfied every spiritual need for anyone who was
willing to go the extra mile and out into the middle of nowhere.
The contrast between
these two feasts—the
feast of the earthly kingdom and the feast of the eternal kingdom—teaches
about discipleship what it requires, especially when “there’s nothing in
it for me.” And, if we are to follow in Jesus’ footsteps, this story
conveys an important teaching about our lives and the challenges we face
each day. But, in this story, Jesus doesn’t tell his disciples what to
do and how to do it. Instead, Jesus models for his disciples the way of
life required of those who seek to follow in his footsteps.
First, remember John
the Baptist—Jesus’
cousin, friend, and mentor—had
just been beheaded because of the pride, arrogance, conniving, and
scheming at Herod’s feast. Then, also recall that Jesus went out to
this deserted place to be alone, to reflect, and to grieve his loss.
Second, in the middle
of this unwanted hub-hub, not only do Jesus’ disciples show up and
intrude upon him like unwanted guests. In addition, thousands of other
people show up. Poor Jesus. All that he wanted was a little peace and
quiet, time for reflection and prayer, a bit of space to pull himself
together so that he could figure out a direction for himself.
Third, it doesn’t take
all that long before Jesus’ disciples start making demands of him. And,
as they do, Jesus tells his disciples that they are fully capable of
providing for the crowd’s needs themselves. But, the disciples protest,
claiming that they’re incapable of providing for so large of a crowd.
The point of these
three situations is to portray the daily challenges Jesus had to deal
with as he modeled for his disciples what following him requires. For
example, how often have you found yourself wanting to be alone, desiring
to get away from your commitments, and to have no responsibilities or
obligations whatsoever. Then, just when you carve out a little bit of
space for yourself, you suddenly yourself besieged—from
all sides—by
all sorts of people badgering you to satisfy their every want—while
you know full well they can provide for themselves?
Does that sound
familiar?
Perhaps—like
Jesus who had just suffered the loss of his cousin, friend, and mentor—you’ve
lost a spouse. Now that the funeral has passed and all of the people
have left for their homes and to return to the normalcy of their daily
lives, you find yourself alone, reflecting upon your loss, the pain,
grief, and sudden loneliness thrust upon you. Perhaps, too, you even
feel a little more than sorry for yourself. But, someone suddenly
intrudes upon your private space and asks you to do something you know
fully well they can do for themselves.
Or, perhaps, you’re a
parent who has spent all day, every day this week, working very hard to
provide for everything that your spouse and family members need and
everything they want as well. Now, here you are at the end of a
particularly hard week, totally exhausted, and hoping for just a few
minutes of peace and quiet. All of a sudden, however, your
daughter begs you to run a last-minute errand and to help her with her
science project, the very science project you had told your daughter to
finish more than one week ago.
Then, perhaps, maybe
you’re be a teenager. You’ve meticulously completed every chore that
your parents have asked you to complete. And, here it is the very night
before the big party that you’ve been planning to attend for several
weeks and your parents inform you that something unexpected has come up
and they have to attend a work-related function tomorrow evening. They
want you to baby sit your younger sibling. But, you know full well that
your parents—if
they really wanted to—could
get someone else to baby sit. But, instead, they’re ruining your plans.
Or, you may be an
elementary school student. After a long day at school, you’ve made
plans to meet with your friends and you’re really looking forward to
going out and playing with them before dinner. But, suddenly, your mom
asks you to stay home and watch things because she has several
last-minute errands to run. You know full well, however, that your mom
could run her errands tomorrow and not intrude upon your fun.
In each of these
circumstances—just
like Jesus in today’s gospel—people
intrude into our lives and our plans each and every day. It doesn't
matter how old we are or what our state in life is. These
intrusions present choices. Many are pretty simple and straight-forward
choices. But, we must not neglect these simple and straight-forward
choices because they have a cumulative effect in terms of defining our
character as a disciple. In these many simple instances, we can choose
to give ourselves and our interests first priority, to do our own thing,
and to rationalize away the demands that others may place upon us. Or,
we can choose to give others and their interests first priority by being
responsive to their needs.
Of course, this does
not mean that we allow ourselves to be treated like “doormats.” It does
mean, however, that our choices over time will provide ample evidence
about how deeply the biblical two-fold law of love has taken root in our
character. When we are confronted with one of these choices, we can
say, “I just can’t do it,” really meaning “I won’t do it.” Or, we can
recall Jesus’ words to his disciples at the Last Supper, “do this in
memory of me,” as we make a conscious decision to discipline ourselves
and to mold our character according to love of God and love of neighbor.
It is the power of
divine love—so
deeply in
Jesus’ character and in his disciples, too, but they refused to believe
it—that
moved Jesus beyond concern and preoccupation with himself, his grief,
his loss, and his need “to pull himself together” following the tragic
murder of John the Baptist. Because the power of divine love was so
deeply rooted in his character, even when there was so little to give at
that point in his life, Jesus was able to host a picnic feast that
nourished thousands of people.
As Jesus’ disciples,
this picnic is about being extravagant (in Latin, extra-vagere)
with others, especially when we believe “there's nothing in it for me.”
This means that we must press a little bit further, push a little bit
harder, and go the extra mile by giving to others from the meager little
bit of time, energy, and talent that we possess. Remember: there were
just a few fish and only a couple of loaves. The people were
hungry at the day’s end. However, because love of God and neighbor
defined Jesus’ character, he was capable of providing for all of them
and more.
“Do this,” Jesus tells
his disciples, “in memory of me.” Be extravagant especially when
“there's nothing in it for me.”
In today’s gospel
story, Jesus models how disciples transform their daily lives into a
“Eucharist.” That is, through love of God and neighbor, Jesus’
disciples today can selflessly offer a picnic feast out in the middle of
the nowhere of daily life and provide others what they need without
counting the personal cost. Jesus’ disciples don’t wait to demonstrate
love of God and neighbor in the big moments at royal feasts when
everybody’s gaze is fixed upon them. No, because love of God and
neighbor is so firmly and deeply rooted in their character, Jesus’
disciples “do this” in many small and unnoticed ways so that peoples’
needs are abundantly provided for and more than is necessary.
In today’s epistle,
St. Paul boasts, “Nothing can separate us from the love of God.” The
contrast between Herod’s feast of this kingdom and Jesus’ feast of God’s
kingdom qualifies St. Paul’s use of the word “nothing,” reminding Jesus’
disciples in every generation that the one who stuffs himself at Herod’s
lavish banquet of selfish delight has very little love of God and
neighbor rooted in his character. |
HOMILY
