topleft05.jpg (18208 bytes)HOMILY
 Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time (C)
20 June 04


 

In our consumer-driven society, today perhaps more than at any time in history, people fret and even worry not only about what other people think about them but also what other people have to say about them.

To put this into a bit of perspective, there was an item in the news just this past week.  Can you guess what young women covet most for a graduation gift this year?  No, it’s not a new automobile.  No, it’s not a trip to an exotic land.  Believe it or not, it’s breast implants!  It’s bad enough that young women graduating from high school and college want implants but, worse yet, parents are giving breast implants to their daughters for graduation gifts.

Don’t so many people today allow stress to consume them if they don’t possess the perfect body, the perfect hair, the perfectly pearly, straight, white teeth, the perfect wardrobe, the perfect automobile or even, the perfect zip code?  So many people sincerely believe these and other such highly-prized possessions are what make other people take notice and talk positively about them.  And, because others think well and have positive things to say, people allow material things like these to inflate their sense of self-esteem.

Isn’t it equally true, however, that when people whose self-esteem hinges upon material things don’t have these possessions and because of that other people don’t take notice and talk positively about them, these people feel that they’re not “good enough” and their feelings of inferiority and failure only seem to increase?

So, to avoid these negative feelings, people today are spending bundles of cash in a consumer-driven, frenzied effort to perfect the image of the person they want to project to the world.  All of this, of course, is driven by the vain hope that others will accept them and, through such social acceptance, increase their self-esteem.

All of this is premised, of course, on the false assumption that self-esteem comes not from within a person but from outside of a person.  That is, one’s sense of self-esteem is not attributable to what other people think and have to say because the very nature of self-esteem is that sense of personal worth and personal dignity that comes from the “self”―from one’s authentic inner core―what oftentimes is referred to as “character.”  Self-esteem doesn’t come from outside of oneself.  People who feel inferior have a spiritual problem because they have forgotten that we human beings need to be accepted by others for who we are not for what we possess.

Many years ago, the mother of a student I was teaching at the time scheduled an appointment to visit with me.  Her son was a very bright but equally lazy student.  He was interested in expending only the minimal amount of effort necessary to complete his homework.  This student’s mother was exceedingly angry with me because on the previous day I had said to her son that his essay was woefully inadequate.  The student’s mother agreed that the essay was woefully inadequate.  But, she was exceedingly angry because in telling her son how woefully inadequate his essay truly was, as a consequence I had “destroyed his self-esteem.”

Without thinking, I wagged my head to and fro and began to chuckle under my breath, which had the unfortunate effect of serving only to increase the woman’s ire.

“What are you laughing at?” she snapped.

“Well, if you think about it for just a moment,” I said, “if someone other than your son can destroy his self-esteem simply by stating the truth, then your son really doesn’t have any self-esteem in the first place.  Maybe that’s the real problem.  Your son doesn’t have the self-esteem it takes to translate his considerable ability into homework assignments of which he can be justifiably proud.  He knows he didn’t write a quality essay.  So, how is your son ever going to survive in the real world if he can’t handle some honest feedback about the true quality his work?”

I wish I could say my logic led to a good conclusion.  Unfortunately, it didn’t.

Later that day, the principal called me into his office and told me how much I had upset this poor woman.  The principal said I could have been more sensitive to her feelings about her son as well as her fear about the potential negative effect the grade he received on the essay would have upon his overall grade.  The principal also suggested that I call or write and apologize to the student’s mother for having hurt her feelings.

Obstinate cuss that I am, I told the principal that I wouldn’t apologize.  “That would only reinforce her need to have her son feel good,” I said.  “Let’s face it.  He shouldn’t feel good; he should feel ashamed and embarrassed.  I want him to learn to be proud of himself and his achievements not because he puts forth minimal effort and gets rewarded for it but because he puts forth his best efforts no matter what the outcome.  Furthermore, I didn’t destroy his self-esteem.  Self-esteem comes from within.  In fact, by trying to get people like us to pander to what she perceives her son’s needs are, she’s only re-enforcing her son’s lack of self-esteem.  That’s fraud.”

The story ended there.  That’s the last I ever heard about it.

I suspect the principal agreed with me not because he never did follow up on his suggestion that I apologize but because he later spoke at a PTA meeting about the nature of true self-esteem.  And, to this day, if in fact she does remember me, I suspect the student’s mother doesn’t think about or speak well of me.  As for her son, he continued to write truly woeful essays and, if in fact he does remember me, I suspect he doesn’t think about or speak well of me either.  Historians will probably record that I am the person who not only destroyed this student’s self-esteem but also made him hate writing for his entire life.

Even if this student’s mother did have a point about the need for teachers like me to be more nurturing and supportive of her son (which I think is bunk), she was dead wrong about my having destroyed his self-esteem.  Self-esteem is not something we acquire from other people.  No, self-esteem evidences itself in the words and behavior of people who care more about what virtue, honor, principle, and dignity require than they care about what other people may think or have to say.  For this reason alone, placing too much importance upon what other people think and say evidences a genuine lack of self-esteem.

In today’s gospel, Jesus asks his disciples the question, “Who do they say I am?” and it might seem that Jesus is teetering on the verge of building his self-esteem upon the shallow foundation of public opinion.  However, after listening to his disciples report the latest public opinion polls, Jesus didn’t stop there to re-evaluate his self-worth.  Instead, he pressed his disciples a much more personal and specific question, “Who do you say I am?”  It’s as if Jesus is saying, “Okay, guys, now that I’ve heard you relate what everyone else is saying about me, what do you have to say about me?”

What others have to say is one thing, Jesus seems to be implying, but public opinion pales when compared to what each individual disciple has to say.  Why?  Because Jesus values what his friends say and so he asks his disciples to tell them truth of their personal experience.  “Who do you say I am?” requires each disciple to make a statement that cannot be attributed to any other person.  And, if that statement is uttered truthfully, the disciple will have to stand on it when the time of the test comes.

Jesus is asking each of his disciples to make the sort of statement that we human beings don’t like to ask not only of others but also ourselves.  “Who do you say I am?” means being honest, fessing up, and leaving no stone unturned.  What is said may be as surprising as it is brutal, comforting as it is challenging.  But, it is the truth and, as such, these responses provide the solid foundation upon which true self-esteem is built.

And so, it is good to ask ourselves as well as other people, especially those who we care about, “Who do you say I am?”

On this Father’s Day, many of us respond by saying, “Dad.”  Today is the day we consider and reconsider what our experience has taught us and what we really mean when we utter the word “Dad.”

What does it mean to call someone “Dad”?

Hopefully, when we call someone “Dad,” we’re speaking about a man who never complains about the heavy workload or all of the sacrifices he makes for his wife and family.  Dad’s don’t say brusquely, “Look at all I’ve done for you.”  No, real Dads just labor and toil away each day and get the job done.  They seem to be grateful just to have the opportunity to be able to provide for what their wives and children need.  This makes a real Dad content because in providing for the needs of others, he knows that he’s really needed.  They might work themselves to the bone to give their wives everything they want but real Dads are extremely careful not to give their children everything they want.

Hopefully, when we call someone “Dad,” we’re also speaking about a father who enjoys listening to his children describe their experiences, wonderments, and aspirations.  If a child pursues his or her own interests, this man doesn’t say, “You’ve broken my heart.”  No, he swallows his hopes and aspirations because listening to a child express one’s convictions is more important than telling a child what to do.  Real Dads ask: “How did you come to that conclusion?  Are you sure about this?”  And when a child says, “Yes, I’ve thought about it and for these reasons I believe this is what I need to do,” these selfless men say “I understand completely, and I think that’s great.”

Hopefully, when we call someone “Dad,” we’re speaking about a man who always seems to be one step ahead, one answer ahead, and one experience ahead of his children even though children believe they are smarter than their Dads.  But, rather than saying to his children, “Here’s what you have to do” or “Here’s the answer” as if this man is the font of all knowledge, a real Dad poses a question to his child which requires thinking about and searching for the truth.  And, when a child does his homework and, at just the right moment, unveils the truth, a real Dad relishes the moment and chuckles to himself saying, “Hey, my kid’s really wise.”

In the movie, Titanic, you may recall the scene when the actor portraying real-life philanthropist Benjamin Guggenheim refused a life jacket and declared instead that he and his manservant were “dressed in our best and are prepared to go down like gentlemen.”  The statement struck many of the movie’s viewers as going a bit overboard. (Pardon the pun.)  Who ever would refuse a life jacket and dress up in one’s best clothes to face death?

In this post-9/11 world, Guggenheim's unruffled act of self-sacrifice is no longer a quaint anachronism of some by-gone past, especially for those children lucky enough to experience a real Dad.

This “man of steel” isn’t Superman.  He is, however, a man who possesses a backbone and who doesn’t let others’ opinions interfere with his principles, even if “everyone else’s parents say it’s okay.”  He’s not polished, prettified, rippling, flaxen, and glued to the bathroom mirror with better manicures and pedicures and bigger walk-in closets than their wives.  Neither is he foul-mouthed, flatulent, drooling, flaccid, and glued all day to the living room television, a beer-guzzling slob who provides as much intellectual nourishment for others as does a three-day-old Domino’s pizza.  Nor is he “Murphy Brown’s son” as the essayist Terrence O. Moore has labeled these wimps and barbarians who try in vain to pose as real Dads.

No, real “Dads” are easy to spot.  They’re Dad’s like New York City's firefighters and cops.  They’re Dad’s like the heroes of Flight 93.  Their Dad’s like our nation’s soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan.  Or, if they aren’t firefighters and cops, soldiers, or heroes, they’re regular guys who go to work and come home every day.  They’re all real “Dads” because these men possess convictions and who view themselves as servants of God, of the nation, and of their spouse, children, and friends.

Because of this, real Dads don’t care all that much or worry about what other people think and have to say about them.  What stresses them (or, better yet, what possesses them), is what justice requires.  And, because of this much-valued and much-cherished possession, real Dads like these men teach their children what true self-esteem consists of.

The ability to write clever thank-you notes, to select fine wines or to present an amiable appearance at the dinner table is less important to real Dads than is the ability to demonstrate upright character, including things like keeping one's word, standing by one's principles, practicing restraint, shunning publicity, and—like Benjamin Guggenheim—greeting tragedy and death stoically.  Only real Dads inspire their children to reach beyond their seemingly insatiable desire for creature comforts and countless material possessions and to accept the disciplines imposed by lofty ideals, because only real Dads possess the character enabling them to teach their children where the source of true self-esteem is to be found…from within themselves.

But, real Dads are human, too.

We know from first-hand experience that they don’t belong to a “saints-only” club but that doesn’t mean that real Dads never cease yearning to become saints.  Knowing that the word “sacrifice” means “to make holy” not “to be holy,” real Dads don’t shrink back from trying to make themselves holy, first, by denying themselves in order to do God’s will and, second, by sacrificing themselves for others, none more so than their wives and children.  No one appreciates this quality of character more than a real Mom.

On this Father’s Day, we’re asked, “Who do you say I am?”  When we respond, “Dad,” the word coming from our lips is a testimony to the man who has taught us something about God our Eternal Father.  As these men don’t complain about all they do for us, listen patiently to our wonderments, lives, and aspirations, and always seem to one step ahead so that they can assist us to grow in grace and wisdom, we have captured a glimpse of God and his eternal love for us.

In this Eucharist—in which give thanks for the sacrifice which Jesus made us—we recall and give thanks today for the sacrifice our Dads have made for us.  Like Jesus, our Dads have poured out their body and blood that we might recognize and be transformed by what is our greatest and only possession of any real worth, the true self-esteem that comes from within when we offer ourselves in sacrifice—when we make ourselves holy—like Jesus and our Dads­—for the good of others.

 

 

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