Homily: 6th Sunday of Ordinary Time – Cycle B
One of the most indispensible parts, it seems, of any
intimate relationship is touch. Parents
touch their children regularly in order to show them their care and
affection. A husband and wife will hug
and kiss each other when they are coming and going or when they get up in the
morning or go to bed at night, and various other times in between. Children who are best friends will walk side
by side each other with an arm around the other’s shoulder (“they’re ‘joined at
the hip’” is the common expression).
Grown men, sometimes less comfortable with more sensitive expressions of
intimacy, will often slap their friends on the shoulder as a sign of camaraderie. And for young couples, holding hands is often
the first expression of a growing affection.
From the opposite standpoint, turning away from touch is often an
indicator that intimacy has been broken or damaged, such as when a husband or a
wife gives their spouse the “cold shoulder.”
As a matter of fact, in the Catholic Church we know this
very well. We ritualize the intimacy of
human touch in the sacraments, most poignantly in the sacrament of the
Anointing of the Sick. February 11, the
feast of Our Lady of Lourdes, is designated in the Church as the “World Day for
the Sick,” in which we remind ourselves of the special place that care for the
sick and dying holds in the life of the Church.
And in the Church’s sacrament for the sick, which is meant to be a
spiritual strengthening for “one who has begun to be in danger of death due to
sickness or old age,” human touch plays a prominent role, in the laying on of
hands and the anointing with oil. And so
again we see that, for humans, touch is important.
In the first reading today, we heard the instructions given
to Moses and Aaron regarding how to handle a person afflicted with leprosy
inside of the community. The ancient Hebrews, like any closely knit community,
were deeply concerned with maintaining the health of their community. And so, whenever someone in the community
became afflicted with an exteriorly visible sickness—such as the sores that
appear on the skin when one is afflicted with leprosy—this person was obligated
to separate him/her self from the community so as to avoid spreading the
disease (because they didn’t understand how this person became afflicted with
it and, thus, how it might be spread to another). Thus, the segregation of lepers was intended
to ensure that the rest of the community was kept safe from a similar affliction
through contact with them. As a result,
the physical suffering of the leprous person was compounded by an emotional
suffering as he or she was literally cut off from all human touch, and, thus,
intimacy, for fear of making others sick.
At the risk of stating the obvious, this coronavirus
pandemic has created a crisis of human touch for all of us. It began with the hyper-cautious efforts to
keep people distanced from each other so as to prevent the spread. For many of us, this has been the worst of it:
limiting our access to family and friends and to the handshakes, hugs, and kisses
that come with any visit to them. For a
good number of us, it has also meant painful isolation when either we ourselves
contracted the virus or one of our close loved ones did. If we had to be hospitalized, that pain became
even worse as we might see only one or two people a day and each of them would
be covered, head to toe, in protective gear to ensure that, in trying to help,
they would not “touch” us. Perhaps it
even meant that we could not say goodbye to a loved one who died as a result of
the sickness. This last one is probably the
most painful of all. /// Today, more than any other time in recent history, we
have come face to face with the experience of the lepers described for us in the
Scriptures and so this reading, more than in years past, ought to stir in us
feelings of sympathy.
In today’s reading from the Gospel of Mark, we find a leper
who was so moved by faith in Christ’s power to heal him that he completely
disregarded the rules regarding the segregation of lepers and approached Jesus
in order to beg him for healing. Jesus
knew well the purity laws and what he would have to go through if he touched
this man. (Just think of the reports of
what health care workers had to go through if they came into direct contact
with coronavirus patient.) He also knew
that he would not have to touch this man in order to heal him of his
leprosy. He knew that a simple word
would affect the cure. Yet, he saw more
than a physical ailment in this man. He
saw the emotional suffering of shame and humiliation that comes from being cut
off from one’s community and he knew that more than just a word was needed to
make him whole again. Thus, the Gospel
tells us that Jesus was “moved with pity” and that he first touched the man
before he pronounced his words of healing.
No, it wasn’t the touch that healed the man of his leprosy: Christ’s
word alone was sufficient. It was the
touch, however, that made him feel human: connected again with the community
that was his life.
Of course, it’s easy to see modern day examples of leprosy
in our own society even beyond the obvious one of those afflicted with the coronavirus. We simply need to look around at those who
have been marginalized and pushed “outside the camp” of our daily living so as
not to defile our efforts to live a “pure” life. Perhaps even some of you have felt
marginalized. It also would be easy to
remind ourselves of our duty to respond to these individuals as Jesus did by
reaching out to them, touching them, helping them to find healing, and inviting
them to join the community once again. And
this is good. What is not so easy for us
is to look inwardly, at ourselves, in order to discover the spiritual leprosy
of sin that afflicts each of us.
St. Bede, in commenting on this passage, has said: “This
man prostrated himself on the ground, as a sign of humility and shame, to teach
each of us to be ashamed of the stains of his [or her own] life. But shame should not prevent us from
confessing: the leper showed his
wound and begged for healing.” St. Terese of Lisieux has said that shame for
our sins should never prevent us from reaching out to Jesus. In fact, she has said, our increasing
awareness of and shame for our sins should make us reach out all the more desperately
to him, because the more that we acknowledge our sinfulness—that is, the more that
we openly show our wounds to Jesus—the more attractive
we are to him, to his mercy, and thus he is more moved to touch us and to heal
us.
My brothers and sisters, the key to living the Christian
life is not just in reaching out to the marginalized in our society: the
modern-day lepers with “outward” afflictions, which we must do. Rather, the key is being able first to recognize
our own afflictions, our own leprosy, and having the courage—or rather the
faith—to throw ourselves down before God, before Jesus, and beg for his mercy.
As his Body, the Church, Jesus wants us to be his hands in
this world, bringing his healing touch to those who need it. He wants his hands to be clean, however. And so, as we seek to extend Christ’s
ministry of mercy to those around us, let us acknowledge also our need for
healing and thus seek out the sacrament of reconciliation (especially during Lent,
which begins this week), so that we might truly be open to share each other’s
burdens.
And
finally, my brothers and sisters, let us give thanks, as we do here today, for
Christ’s saving mercy, so that we may go forth from this place making known the
good things he has done for us.
Given
in Spanish at Saint Paul parish: Marion, IN – February 14, 2021
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