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The first African-American Protestant bishop to earn a doctorate in Old Testament studies, Dr. Willis King, once told the following story on himself to demonstrate how Jesus taught with authority: Following graduation, I moved back home with my parents. I had decided that I wanted to purchase a car, but I didn’t have any money. So, my father offered to co-sign the automobile loan. I declined his offer saying, “I can take care of myself now that I have a college degree.” So I went to the bank and met with the Loan Officer. He asked: “Tell me, Dr. King, what do you have for collateral? If you’re going to get a loan, you’ve got to have something of equal value.” I proudly announced to the Loan Office, “I have my degree!” To which the he replied, “A college degree is useless as collateral.” Crestfallen, I turned to leave the bank and found my father was standing there. He offered to co-sign the note. But, feeling despondent, I said: “You can’t read or write. All you can do is make an ‘X’.”
From behind me, the Loan Officer tugged on my arm. He said: “Son,
your father might not be able to read or write. I don’t know. What
I do know is that he can make an ‘X’. Remember, that ‘X’ got him
the loan from this bank for you to go to college. It’s the same ‘X’
that got you through and out of college. And, if you’re going to
get a loan for the car you want, that ‘X’ is what’s going to get you
a loan.” “He teaches with authority,” the people said about Jesus and the way he taught. Of course, the contrast drawn in today’s gospel is to those who teach without authority. In Jesus’ day, the authority to teach God’s word—to teach the Torah—came from carefully studying not only the Torah but also all of the rabbinical commentaries written about its various passages. So, when someone would stand up and speak during the Sabbath service about the meaning of a particular scripture passage, that individual demonstrated authority by quoting revered Torah scholars and their learned commentaries. Never would that individual dare to say “I think” or “I believe.” Rather, that person would say, “There is a teaching which states…” or “another teacher has written….” Then, as this individually would successfully lay out all of those scholarly and learned opinions, discuss the important elements highlighted by those opinions, and defended a particular interpretation of the law, the chief priests and elders would interrogate and challenge this person. If this individual’s interpretation withstood this intense scrutiny, the people attending the Sabbath service would accord authority to this individual—they would call him “Teacher”—because of this person’s vast knowledge of and expertise in the matters relating to the Torah. And so it was one Sabbath day. Jesus stood up in the Temple and spoke about the meaning of a particular passage from scripture. But, instead of saying, “There is an opinion which states…” or “a great scholar has noted…,” Jesus stunned the congregation when he said, “What I say to you is….” Imagine how thunderstruck the people were! No one ever taught in the Temple on one’s own authority. The scene in the Temple is reminiscent of Bishop Willis King’s experience in the bank. Armed with a freshly-minted doctorate, Willis King had authority and was now going to take charge of his life. “My illiterate old man isn’t going to sign an ‘X’ for me. I have a doctorate!” This was Dr. King’s attitude. But, the Loan Officer—who certainly possessed no doctorate—did possess authority. Speaking simple and straightforward words from his heart, the words of the Loan Officer cut right through Dr. Willis King’s pride and arrogance. My first year in the seminary, the director of seminarians gave a speech—actually, it was more of a diatribe, to be honest—just prior to the beginning of Lent. He started off by reading the letter from the Cardinal announcing the upcoming season of Lent. The director then detailed the particular laws concerning fast and abstinence. He warned all of us to be especially careful when we’d be eating in the university cafeteria because we’d be causing scandal if non-seminarians were to see us violating those laws. The lay students might then, in turn, use our scandal to justify not having to follow those laws themselves. “This is part of being a priest,” he said, “whether you like it or not. People will expect you to follow the law.” On the very first Friday of Lent, when I happened to be standing in line at the cafeteria, the director of seminarians was standing behind me. As we approached the counter, I saw that we had two choices for an entrée: stuffed chicken breast or tempura-battered jumbo shrimp. “Well, that’s not an awfully painful choice,” I snickered to myself as I ordered the shrimp. “Hopefully, the rest of Lent will be the same. No pain here!” The director of seminarians also ordered the shrimp. After we seated ourselves at table, one of the priest-professors who possessed two earned doctorates, one in Theology and one in Psychology, took the chair next to me and directly across the table from the director of seminarians. The director and the priest-professor weren’t known to be the “best of buddies,” mostly because the priest-professor was a bit of an intelligent eccentric who could argue his way around anything, in turn, frustrating anyone who ever dared to engage him in debate. Before sitting down, the priest-professor went to get a beverage. As I scanned the contents of his tray, my eyes instinctively widened, my jaw grew slack, and my lungs instinctively took in a very deep breath when I noticed that the priest-professor had ordered a stuffed chicken breast! I immediately adverted my glance away from the tray and deflected it across the table toward the director of seminarians. The nonverbal language on his face indicated that he was not a happy camper, so to speak, having himself also noticed the stuffed chicken breast on the priest-professor’s plate. Nothing occurred as we ate. It was a pretty normal meal, even with the undercurrent of knowledge that something uncomfortable would soon reveal itself, raising my blood pressure. That event didn’t come, however, until the following Sunday evening when we had our weekly community meeting with the director. It wasn’t long before he launched into another diatribe. He went on and on for nearly ten minutes about the Lenten regulations regarding fasting and abstinence. After I had enough of his tirade, I said to the director of seminarians, “Look, I know that I have followed the laws and, I suspect, most of us here have also followed the laws. If you have a problem with someone or a group you know has violated those laws, why not bring the matter up to them in private. Stop wasting our time on something that doesn’t pertain to all of us?” You might imagine that the director wasn’t a charter member of “The Jacobs Fan Club.” “As you all know,” the director said looking directly at me, “I spoke about this very thing at our last meeting. I discussed how important it would be that you make every effort to avoid giving scandal by following the Church’s laws of fast and abstinence.” The drama reached its crescendo, I thought, when the director said as he turned to the priest-professor, “Last Friday at dinner you ate the stuffed chicken breast. Why?” That wasn’t the moment of high drama, however. With a wry smile on his lips and glimmer in his eyes, the priest-professor responded, “Because I like shrimp.” You can only imagine how the rest of that meeting went! The point of my telling this story is to suggest how easy it is for any of us to fall into the trap of pride and arrogance, to compromise our commitments, or even to shirk our responsibilities. Why? We want to reduce holiness to the simplistic matter of following laws under the illusion that we can then exert some degree of control over our “destiny.” Perhaps we may even lord our superiority by pointing out how some university degree or external law supports our position and, furthermore, because it doesn’t support another person’s position, that individual deserves to be embarrassed or humiliated. But, today’s Gospel reminds us that someone will come along—maybe it will be a Loan Officer, a parent or grandparent, a spouse, a brother or sister, a boss, or even an in-law—someone we consider beneath us and our dignity or who perhaps we hold in contempt and disdain. The simple and straightforward words this person speaks from the heart will strip us buck naked in public and expose our true motives. Then, we’ll be seen by all for the frauds we really are. For exposing the truth, we oftentimes react to these individuals by becoming angry with them and making them into enemies. Yet, they are speaking the truth and, in reality, we should be grateful. After all, as Moses told the Hebrew people in today’s first reading:
And
the Lord said to me, “This was well said. I will raise up for them
a prophet like you from among their kind, and will put my words into
his mouth; he shall tell them all that I command him. Whoever will
not listen to my words which he speaks in my name, I myself will
make him answer for it. The Jewish religious leaders weren’t interested in the Torah but in maintaining their position of honor. Willis King wasn’t a loving son but was interested in demonstrating his superiority. And, the director of seminarians wasn’t interested in teaching about the spiritual meaning of Lent but in exercising his power over others. When Jesus stunned the congregation with his teaching, the people asked, “What does this mean?” Instead of thanking God for manifesting His presence in the truth of Jesus’ teaching and the miracle he effected, the people asked what it meant. The problem with their question is they already knew what his teaching meant and didn’t much like it. The people knew they would have to change. In this regard, the Jewish religious leaders would have to love the Torah more than they loved themselves. Willis King would have to love his father more than he loved himself. And the director of seminarians would have to love the people he was called to serve rather than lord his position of power over them. That is the message Jesus wants us to hear. The truth of his simple and straightforward words cut through and challenge all of the deceptive and self-justifying ways we live our lives so that we will be changed by turning away from sin. But, that’s not the end of the story. Jesus is also challenging us to change so that, in turn, we will teach the people around us with the authority of truth. In simple and straightforward words coming from our hearts, we teach as Jesus did when we say: “What I say to you is this…human sexuality is a gift from God to be used appropriately within the Sacrament of Marriage and this view of human sexuality is being abused and exploited in our culture.” In simple and straightforward words coming from our hearts, we teach as Jesus did when we say: “What I say to you is this…children, honor your parents; parents, love your children more than your careers; spouses, be faithful to one another, no matter what; and, everyone, provide genuine assistance that will help the poor to leave poverty behind.” In simple and straightforward words coming from our hearts, we teach as Jesus did when we say: “What I say to you is this: the wanton disregard of life—from conception to natural death—in our culture will lead not only to the destruction of what being human is all about but is also breeding a culture of death that will consume you.” In simple and straightforward words coming from our hearts, we teach as Jesus did when we say: “What I say to you is this: stop abusing employees through clever accounting schemes, unfair labor practices, or fleecing their pension plans.” Moses told the Hebrew people that speaking the truth is a matter of life and death. When we do speak the truth it may feel as if we may die from the attacks that are sure to be mounted against us. The lesson that history teaches is simple: People simply don’t want to hear the truth and will reject its messenger. Yet, today’s scripture instructs us that not speaking the truth that God has entrusted to us will lead to death, for example, the death of a marriage, of a family, of a friendship, and ultimately, of a society. Why? A house built on the sand of deceit cannot stand for long. There are so many people today who use sophisticated words and arguments which confuse anyone who listens to the point that they’re not sure what the truth is or what it requires of them. All of that rhetoric is intended to introduce skepticism and, ultimately, to destroy faith in the existence of objective truth. According to David Kinnaman in his new book, You Lost Me: Why Young Christians are Leaving the Church ... and Rethinking Faith, this generation’s “twenty-somethings” have succumbed to these forces and have turned their backs on the institutional church. Don’t listen to these voices because they don’t teach with the authority of truth. Only Jesus Christ teaches with the authority of truth. By listening to the simple and straightforward words that come from his heart, Jesus Christ “cuts to the chase.” When we listen his words and allow them to change us, we will proclaim what is right and challenge what is wrong. And, when we do, those around will ask: “What does this mean? This person teaches with authority not like all of those others.”
A brief
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HOMILY
