|
Several
years ago, I was griping to a fellow Augustinian about someone at
work who blamed me for something I really didn’t believe was my fault.
The fellow listened very attentively and, after I finished the complete,
entire, and unexpurgated rendition of my side of the story, he looked at
me and said, “Be a sponge.”
Incredulous, I
asked, “What do you mean, ‘be a sponge’?”
He said, “The only living creature in the entire ocean that doesn’t get
attacked by any other living creature…is a sponge.” “So,” he
reiterated with a wry smile and a wink, “be a sponge.”
I didn’t
particularly like this advice at first.
“Who’d ever want
to be a sponge in the shark-infested ocean of life I swim in?”
I asked myself. “That’s the stupidest @#$$!# thing I’ve ever heard.”
Later on, as I
conjured up the image of a sponge and played around with it in my mind,
I considered what distinguishes this species of sea creature we
human beings call a “sponge” from all other species of sea creature. The sole
distinguishing property is its ability to absorb an awful lot of liquid, in fact, quite a bit more than
the weight of a sponge. In addition, when all of that liquid is released from the
sponge simply by squeezing it, the sponge returns to normal and isn’t
noticeably any worse for the wear.
“So,” I
concluded, “Maybe being a sponge isn’t all that bad of an idea. It’s
never attacked, it absorbs everything, and isn’t any worse for the
wear.”
Sounds sort of
good, doesn’t it?
Today we
celebrate the Solemnity of Christ the King. This is the King whose
throne was the Cross and whose crown was woven of thorns. This is the
King, as we heard in today’s gospel, who absorbed taunts,
jeering, and even nails. But, most importantly, this is the King who
absorbed the sins of others so that, as St. Paul wrote to the
Colossians, “we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.”
The gospel
passage we have just heard directs our attention to this King’s
execution upon the Cross and all he absorbed during his last hour
or so of life. The reviling comments and jeers are bad enough,
revealing the hearts of sinful people who think they really are holy people and
really doing what is good. As bad as all of that is, it pales in
comparison to the way the soldier’s play with their gruesome tools of
execution. These are sinful people who probably would say,
“He’s broken the law. We’re only doing our job.” There are also other passages in the gospels—those
laying the foundation for and leading up to this very moment—which direct our attention to Jesus as he
absorbed frustrations, anger, yearnings, worries,
agonies, pains, and suffering of many people. He absorbed all of this not for the sake
of saints, but for sinners. The gospel tells us that it was in these moments,
when Jesus absorbed the effects of sin in other people’s lives, that Jesus moaned, experienced sadness, and even cried.
Because Jesus
took scripture seriously, we have a King
who absorbed an awful lot that he didn’t have to absorb. He loved God and sinful neighbor as much
as he loved himself. And, in this way, Jesus fulfilled the greatest of
the commandments and established, through his own example, the pathway
those who would wish to follow in his footsteps must walk.
So, we must
absorb an awful lot if we are going to accord love of God and sinful neighbor
higher priority in our lives than love of self. It’s easier said than
done, however.
We’ll try hard to
do a good job. But, we’ll have to absorb the lack of appreciation or
the complaints from those who expected us to do more for them or a better job.
Some people will
pour out their hearts to us as tears emanating from their hearts
flow from their eyes. We must absorb their hurt and pain.
Some people will
share stories with us we’ve heard at least one hundred thousand times
(or so it seems). Yes, we
must absorb the story once again but also take delight in it as if we’re
hearing this story for the first time.
People will be
angry with us, justifiably so or not so justifiably. We must absorb
all of that anger, too.
After absorbing
these and so many other things, we might feel like we’re so sopped and
waterlogged that we’ll drown because love of God and sinful neighbor has
required us to absorb so much. The effects of sin are as great in our
own day as they were in Jesus’ day.
It’s the
distinctive nature of a sponge to absorb and it is what will make us
distinctive, too, as disciples. “Be a sponge,” Jesus’ example teaches
us.
Isn’t
it more so the case, however, that we accord higher priority to love of
self and less priority to love of God and neighbor (forget the sinful
neighbor) and that we stubbornly refuse to absorb the effects that sin
has had in the lives of other people? And then, as we become
increasingly stubborn, don’t our hearts become rigid, hard, and
inflexible just like any sponge does when it is deprived of the water
that gives it life?
Is that the
point?
Could it be true
that what gives us life―and life “in abundance,” as the gospel calls
it―are not all of the fantastic toys and gizmos that provide hours of
bliss-filled distraction. Instead, what gives life to Jesus’
disciples is what love of God and sinful
neighbor require them to absorb?
Could it be true
that the desire to acquire more and more of all of those fantastic toys
and gizmos actually deprives us of what is truly life giving and renders us
incapable of absorbing what others have to give us―namely, all of those boring,
burdensome, and unpalatable consequences of their sinfulness―because we
are too self-absorbed?
Could it be true
that those fantastic toys and gizmos
actually harden our hearts to love of God and
sinful neighbor and our stubbornness makes it impossible for God’s grace to bring about
healing and reconciliation?
I think so.
If we are to
absorb all that is sent our way, we will need patience, just as Jesus needed
patience when he accepted all of those sneers, jeers, and nails during
his last hour of life. If that wasn’t enough to test Jesus’
patience, the one criminal hanging beside Jesus reviled and mocked him saying, “Are
you not the Christ? Save yourself and us.” Because Jesus
remained patient and absorbed everything sinful people sent his way, God’s grace
brought about healing and reconciliation.
As we are patient
with those how get on our nerves, those whose personal style or
personalities bother us, those who are very demanding, possess
outrageous and bigoted opinions,
or an agenda that differs from ours, as we are patient with whose who
are filled with rage or simply are in pain and suffering and want us to
feel their pain and suffering, as patiently absorb all that comes our
way, God’s grace brings about healing and reconciliation.
“He is the image
of the invisible God….making peace by the blood of his cross…,” St. Paul
wrote to the Colossians. This King―whose throne is the Cross and whose
crown is made of thorns―calls his disciples to be the image of the
invisible God by absorbing whatever sinful people send their way for
the sake of the healing and reconciliation of all those who God loves,
especially sinful people. |
HOMILY
