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My
anecdotal survey of gripes and complaints suggests to me that
there’s nothing more annoying to Catholics than when a parish has
regulations pertaining to the reception of the sacraments and its
pastor upholds those regulations.
·
If
you think nobody complains when parents are required to attend a
pre-Jordan program prior to a child’s
baptism, it’s time to think again.
·
If
you think nobody complains when a parish requires that a child be
enrolled in the parochial school or a parish religious education
program prior to receiving the Sacraments of Penance and Holy
Communion for the first time, it’s time to think again.
·
If
you think young people don’t gripe and complain when they discover
they are required to complete service hours as part of their
preparation for receiving the Sacrament of Confirmation, especially
in dioceses where the sacrament is received during the teenage
years, it’s time to think again.
·
And,
if you think nobody complains about engaged couples being required
to attend Pre-Cana, it’s time to rethink that proposition. But,
that one is a piece of cake compared to engaged couples who are
living together before marriage being required to live separately
until after the wedding. And, tough as that one might be, that’s
another piece of cake compared to what the parents—especially the
bride’s mother—have to say when they weigh in on the subject!
While those regulations provoke grumbling and complaints and
sometimes generate no small amount of animosity, most Catholics
generally understand that there are “rules.” And, like those rules
or not, most Catholics are willing to accept them, even if
grudgingly so.
However, when a pastor demands that reticent parishioners fulfill
those requirements and similar to Mount St. Helens in the State of
Washington which laid dormant all of those centuries, the lava of
resentment and anger oftentimes simmers away somewhere just beneath
the surface.
Bad as that may be, should someone who has grudgingly fulfilled
those requirements discover that this pastor dispensed another
parishioner with any regulation for the reception of any sacrament
and for whatever reason good or bad, the resulting volcanic
explosion will be felt for miles around the parish. The fiery
lava will wind its destructive path through telephone and internet
lines as well as gossip networks. And, the cloud of ash will
waft above the parish causing darkness and spreading all sorts of
filth, sometimes for years (and, yes, even decades) to come.
What we oftentimes don’t think about is how that reaction—revealing
our frustration and anger—teaches us something very important about
ourselves and our spiritual lives.
And what might that be?
It’s
an economic principle.
We
expect to be compensated and rewarded for doing what’s required,
especially when we don’t
want to do it.
We believe that justice mandates being duly compensated and
rewarded based upon individual merit, that is, the amount of effort
we have to or, more importantly for this discussion, we are being
required to put into something. It’s a lesson that’s drilled into
us from the day we were first brought home from the hospital’s
nursery as well as from the first day we spent in school. Who of us
hasn’t been told by our parents to do things we’d
rather not do, expecting that we will be rewarded for doing those
things?
Who
of us hasn’t seen students go into a tizzy when a student who has
failed every test in a class receives an “A” for the course? And,
as a former principal, let me assure you, their parents go into the
exact same tizzy!
We
believe this economic principle also applies to our spiritual
lives. We expect God to compensate and reward each of us, each
according to one’s merits. Imagine the shock many of us may
experience when, upon St. Peter’s opening the pearly gates to admit
us to our heavenly reward, we survey the scene and, much to our
utter shock and dismay, we see all of those people we had previously
considered “sinners” now blissfully enjoying their heavenly reward.
Incapable of controlling our tongues, we might even blurt out
exactly what’s
on our minds and
ask
St. Peter: “What in the hell are these people doing here?”
Will we be angry with God and, like Job, demand that God explain
Himself to us?
The realization that we project our economic principle onto God
teaches us how we oftentimes assume that we know so much better than
God does, even though we may not be willing to admit—except in the
privacy of our thoughts—that we think this way. But, the prophet
Isaiah reminded us in today’s
first reading,
“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways,
says the Lord.” In fact, our shock and dismay at others whom we
judge to be undeserving in receiving more than we deem they
deserve—perhaps culminating in anger with God—reveals not love of
God and neighbor, but our attempts to control God by playing the
game of “following the rules” so that, in the end, God “owes” us.
It’s similar to mothers and fathers who believe their children owe
them their love and devotion because of all that they’ve done for
their children throughout the years. It’s also similar to those who
think of religious practices as if they provide an insurance
policy. “As long as I fulfill the rules,” these people think, “God
owes me a healthy and happy life on earth as it will be in heaven.”
The premium paid are those religious practices one might not
otherwise have performed.
Boy,
if as Jesus taught this lesson to the Pharisees, are these
people going to be in for a very big surprise!
Why?
Love, especially God’s
love—as
it is measured in compassion, mercy, and forgiveness—isn’t something
“owed.” No, love is a freely given gift.
Like many teachings from scripture, this particular teaching is not
easy to implement in our lives because it challenges us to our core,
implying that many of our religious practices—intended to
demonstrate our merit—are fraudulent. They are not performed
out of love of either God or neighbor; no, they are performed to
merit something for ourselves.
The usual translation of the closing verses of today’s Gospel
reminds us of this evil. The landlord asks: “Are you envious
because I am generous?” A more slavishly literal translation of
that question would be: “Is your eye evil because I am good?”
The laborer’s
eye
is “evil”—it
is “diseased”—because
this eye does not see “what is” but only what the laborer wants it
to see. This disease is a form of spiritual blindness because it
fills the person with envy, until this individual gets exactly what
he or she wants. It’s as if we appreciate God’s compassion, mercy,
and forgiveness as long as God is compassionate, merciful, and
forgiving with us. We don’t much appreciate it when our evil eye
sees that God is compassionate, merciful, and forgiving of all of
those others whom we judge unworthy.
Our challenge today, then, is to work very carefully at not using
our evil eye to begrudge God for showing His compassion, mercy, and
forgiveness toward others and, then, to complain about how God has
short-changed us, envious of what others may have received. As
the prophet Isaiah noted:
As
high as the heavens are above the earth, so high are my ways above
your ways and my thoughts above your thoughts.
Let us learn that spiritual growth is predicated upon demonstrating
love of God and neighbor. In this way, then, even though our ways may
not yet perfectly be God’s ways, our religious practices will not be
for the purpose of
“meriting”
anything but will bear fruit in our selfless acts of compassion,
mercy, and forgiveness toward those we’d otherwise characterize as
undeserving of God’s compassion, mercy, and forgiveness.
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HOMILY
