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As I sat down for lunch yesterday, I turned the television on only to hear about a fanatical lunatic who tried to drive a Jeep Cherokee SUV into a terminal at Glasgow International Airport, one of Scotland’s largest airports. As the reporters interviewed witnesses who detailed how passengers in the vehicle tried to pour gasoline onto the flames as security officers wrestled these people to the ground, I recalled the chilling story of brainwashing in False Memory, written by Dean Koontz. In that novel, a man—the incarnation of evil—seduces people into giving up their power of free will and living as one of his disciples. As a cloud of darkness descends upon and envelops the hearts of the man’s disciples and eventually extinguishes the goodness present in their hearts, the man then commands his disciples to perform heinous acts, including murder and suicide. False Memory rings a familiar note. But False Memory isn’t about the Jonestown cult (officially named the “People’s Temple”), founded in 1955 by Indianapolis preacher James Warren Jones, who had no formal theological training and brainwashed his disciples into living in concentration camp-like conditions. On November 18, 1978, fearing the People’s Temple would be destroyed, Jones convinced his disciples to preserve their church by making the ultimate sacrifice. Evidence suggest that Jones have his disciples a deadly concoction of purple Kool-Aid mixed with cyanide, sedatives, and tranquilizers. In the end, 912 women, men, and children took their lives. Jones apparently shot himself in the head. Nor is False Memory about David Koresh and his disciples, known as the “Branch Davidians.” No one knows for sure whether Koresh was a manipulative psychopath who exploited an opportunity or was just a religious fanatic whose delusions were suddenly exposed on the world’s stage when Koresh’s paranoia about the Federal government seemed to be coming true. On February 28, 1993, a convoy of AFT agents drove out to the desert-like grounds of Mount Carmel Center in Waco, Texas, to serve warrants and to seize any illegal guns, ammunition, hand grenades, and explosive devices. A Blackhawk helicopter from the Texas Air National Guard hovered above, along with two others belonging to the ATF. For Koresh, it was biblical. The Babylonians—the agents of Satan—were mounting an attack upon Mount Carmel Center. False Memory differs from these two events, not simply because False Memory is a fictional account and both Jonestown and Waco are non-fictional. False Memory also differs because its reader is caught up in suspense, left wondering how—and if—the evil spawned by the man who is the incarnation of evil will ever be defeated. Both Jones and Koresh were defeated. When we hear non-fictional reports of fanatical lunatics driving gasoline laden SUVs into airport terminals or attempting to explode Mercedes Benz’s that have been transformed into VBIEDs (vehicle-borne improvised explosive devices), we too may find ourselves wondering how—and if—such evil will ever be defeated. Not only at lunch yesterday but also at times since the tragic events of 9/11, I have found myself wondering—and some of you have talked with me about how you have also been wondering—what kind of world we live in as well as the kind of world our children and grandchildren will be inheriting. There are also young couples I know who have expressed to me the fear of having children precisely for that reason. A quick survey of recent events reveals that evil certainly has plenty of disciples alive and at work in our world. Perhaps most notably, there are the terrorists. These are not “men of God.” What they are engaged in is not by any sane definition a “holy war.” No, what the terrorists have done is to surrender their power of free will to the power of evil. What they are doing isn’t good by any stretch of the imagination. No, they are perpetrating evil—the primeval force of Chaos—throughout the world. Then, just last Monday, professional wrestler Chris Benoit strangled his wife and smothered his 7-year-old son. Oddly, Benoit placed bibles at their sides, before hanging himself from a pulley in his weight room. Authorities found prescription anabolic steroids among other legal prescriptions in the home. Steroid abuse has been linked to depression, paranoia, and aggressive behavior or angry outbursts now known as “ ’roid rage.” Drugs gradually weaken the power of free will and, eventually, those who live for drugs perpetrate evil acts. If you need evidence of this fact, just look at our nation’s prisons which are populated by people—young and old, male and female alike—who at some point in their lives—and, likely, when they were youngsters—have surrendered their power of free will to the power of evil, most beginning their journey to enslavement by dabbling in drugs and alcohol. What they did wasn’t good. No, they committed evil and heinous acts—the primeval force of Chaos—among family members, friends, and fellow citizens. And, that’s not to forget, shall I say, “close to home.” We also forsake our power of will when we allow the power of evil to shape our decisions. It may happen in small, “venial” matters. But, as we learn that we can get away with “the small stuff,” we gradually perpetrate evil in big, “mortal” matters. Years ago, I read an interesting article entitled “A Wink isn’t Always a Wink.” The author argued the point that in the workplace males can mean many things when they wink at female co-workers. The male knows what he means, but the female must interpret what her male co-worker intends. How many adulterous affairs began with a wink? As little kids, it’s quite likely that we all told a “white” lie or two. But, we learned that as we got away with that lie, we could lie about bigger and less trivial matters. Lying to one’s boss and co-workers is bad enough. Yet, lying frequently breeds more lies. Lying to one’s spouse, children, friends, and neighbors or on one’s income tax form and the like betray the character of an insidious liar. No doubt about it. Evil surrounds us. We hear of it daily in news reports. And, we participate in evil. Sadly, the story hasn’t come to its desired conclusion. Like the reader of False Memory, we find ourselves living in a time of suspense, wondering how—and if—the evils spawned by wicked people—and ourselves, too—who have forsaken the power of free will ever will be defeated. This week, we will celebrate Independence Day. Quite likely, many of us will enjoy gathering for picnics, concerts, and fireworks displays. While all of those are good things and we should enjoy them, these events might deflect us from considering what today’s scriptures direct our attention to, namely, “freedom” and what that means. Our nation’s founding documents state that our Creator has endowed us with certain inalienable rights, namely, life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Perhaps when we hear of these ideals, we think about our freedom to practice religion, our freedom to speak what’s on our mind, and our freedom to associate with whomever we please and whenever we please. Or, even to forsake our power of will to the power of evil! A priest of the Diocese of Nashville, Tennessee, Fr. Edward Steiner, has written that our civic freedoms protect us “from” something, namely, from oppression and any restriction upon our inalienable rights. We are freed from anything that would hinder pursuing what we desire to the degree that we are able to and that we do so within the context of the law. But, this concept of freedom differs from how scripture describes freedom. Fr. Steiner argues:
In the Scriptures,
we are not offered a freedom from something. We are offered a
freedom for something. Our freedom is to make the choice to live
life for ourselves or for God. In the end, this is the only “free
choice” that matters: the choice for self or the choice for God.
(italics added) I believe Fr. Steiner has put his finger upon something important. Freedom from something—to be free from oppression, to be free from restrictions, to be free from terror, even to be free from obedience to God’s law—directs our attention backward, for example, worrying about what we’ve left behind and whether we now are truly free. Consider the Jews in the Desert of Sin. Freed from slavery in Egypt, they worried and continuously had to look back over their shoulders to see if the Egyptians were hunting them down. The Jews also worried about where their next meal and drink of water would come from because, looking back, they had plenty of both when there were slaves in Egypt. Looking back can be fatal, spiritually speaking. As we confront difficulties, we are oftentimes tempted to look back—to where we have come from—and then we find ourselves wondering, “Why did I ever do this? I had it so much better when….” Frustrations in marriages, in raising children to young adulthood, in families, at work, and with life in general are inevitable. After all, we live in an imperfect world. But, when those frustrations do arise, looking backwards—to where we have come from—tempts us to look at where we are right now with jaundiced eyes. Looking about, we consider what was, not what could be. We begin to feel hopeless rather than hopeful. Then we dupe ourselves into believing we can click the heels of our shoes together three times and, presto, we’ll be back in Kansas with Toto and Auntie ’Em. Adulterous affairs, drug abuse, and a host of all sorts of other evils emerge and then consume our lives (and the lives of others as well) because we freely will to look backwards to slavery in Egypt, look with a jaundiced eye at the present, and believe there’s no way out of the web we weaved because our aim was to deceive. In contrast, freedom for something—to do what love of God commands—directs our attention forward. Jesus certainly was tempted to look back to the good times in Nazareth—to where he came from—rather than to look forward to the consummation of his life and ministry in Jerusalem. But, rather than succumb to that temptation, Jesus knew what God had called him to be. Jesus was filled with hope; he didn’t despair. No, Jesus pressed forward to Jerusalem. Along the way and knowing fully well the probable consequences that would result from doing God’s will, Jesus taught his disciples: “No one who sets a hand to a plow and looks to what was left behind is fit for the Kingdom of God.” Discipleship requires leaving our past behind and committing ourselves to conform to what love of God requires. There is no time for kissing Mom and Dad goodbye, as Elisha found out. “Let the dead bury the dead,” Jesus told one who wanted to be a disciple but first wanted to bury his father, as the fourth commandment would require. And, St. Paul reminded the Galatians, “live by the Spirit, don’t gratify the desires of the flesh.” Our freedom, Jesus teaches, is discovered not in the security of past and what we know—slavery in Egypt and frustration in our current circumstances—but in taking the risk to allow God to guide us into the unknown but hoped-for future—the Promised Land. Love of God makes this possible because only it can change how we live. Only love of God has the power to enrich our lives with family, neighbors, and even our enemies. Only love of God has the power to transform our houses into homes. Only love of God makes what otherwise would be work an expression of a personal vocation. Only love of God can redeem us. Our freedom—our true freedom—is not freedom from but freedom for. It’s the freedom to deny ourselves and, through love of God, to participate actively in building the Kingdom of God in this world which forces the power of evil to loosen its grip on the world. In this way, we don’t look with a jaundiced eye on our present circumstances and seek security in the past and what we know. No, we freely will—with the help of God’s grace—to follow Jesus as we make the same choice that Jesus made when he turned his back on Nazareth and journeyed toward Jerusalem. Watching the fall of France during the first year of World War II, W. Somerset Maugham noted, “Those who value security above freedom will lose their freedom and having lost their freedom, they will lose their security, too.” Our true freedom is found in love of God—because we then need not live in fear—and in this is found our true security—because our security is to rest in God. As St. Augustine notes, “Our hearts are restless until they rest in Thee, O God.”
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HOMILY
