Showing posts with label migrants. Show all posts
Showing posts with label migrants. Show all posts

Sunday, September 29, 2019

An Inconvenient Truth


Homily: 26th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle C
“An Inconvenient Truth” is the title of a 2006 documentary of former United States Vice President Al Gore’s efforts to raise awareness about “global warming” and to promote efforts to help combat it.  The title of the film used Mr. Gore’s own words, who called global warming an “inconvenient truth”.  “Inconvenient” since efforts to combat it demand that we all choose to give up many of our modern conveniences; or, at least, to modify them so as to minimize their “carbon footprint”: a generic term indicating the impact that a certain thing or process has on global warming.
This week there were “Climate Change” summits in both the US and Canada.  “Climate Change” has replaced “Global Warming” as the word that is being used to describe the impact that our modern world is having on our global environment.  It’s a broader term, indicating that excessive “change” (not just “warming”) is something with which we should be concerned and so work to combat it.  The change of term does not change the inconvenience of the truth, however, and so activists continue to work to raise awareness and to promote both large-scale and small-scale change in society so as to combat it.
Unfortunately, in my humble opinion, alarmism has seemingly taken over what ought to be a very valuable discussion: that is, how we all ought to work together to make changes in our own lifestyles that can slow the rate of change and, thus, truly care for our environment.  “Governments must fix this”, is not the answer here; rather, every-day Joes, like you and me, need to make decisions every day about trips we take, products we purchase, and energy we consume if we wish to make a difference.  Take that “mindfulness” to a global scale and, all of a sudden, we could find ourselves feeling much less alarmed about our effects on the environment. ///
Today in our Scripture readings, we are presented with another “inconvenient truth”.  This one is the truth about the responsibility of the rich to the poor.  Perhaps the majority of us here wouldn’t consider ourselves “rich”; and, when considered on the income spectrum of those living in the United States, we’d probably be correct.  When considered on a global spectrum, however, that certainly changes.  Income that would be considered at or below the “poverty level” here in the United States would still place a person well into the upper levels of income in other, less-developed nations.  Regardless, however, even if we don’t consider ourselves “rich”, it is also likely that we are not “poor”, either; and so, we should take heed of the inconvenient truth presented by our Scriptures today.
The parable of the rich man and poor Lazarus is probably quite familiar to us, and so I’d like to spend a little time going through what the prophet Amos is criticizing in the first reading.  I’m not sure we understand the excesses he is describing there and so let’s take a closer look.  Amos’ dire prophecy stems from the habit of indulgence at feasts in which the wealthy regularly engaged.  He speaks of the couches on which they reclined to eat, which were luxuriously appointed with inlaid ivory and whose comfort invited them to spend long hours at meals.  He then speaks of the meat on which they daily dine.  Yet, at the time, a diet of meat was almost unknown.  Animals were peoples’ livelihood.  They were means of transportation or of carrying out work.  They produced wool and milk and other products useful for life.  Only occasionally, then, were they slaughtered for a meal; and, usually, (if not exclusively) in conjunction with some religious sacrifice.  Therefore, that the rich are dining on calves and lambs—the very animals most often used in sacrifice—is another sign of their extravagance.  They anoint themselves with costly fragranced oils and, instead of drinking wine out of cups (something which would promote some level of restraint), they drank it out of bowls (all the better to gulp the wine, instead of sip).  Old Testament prophets aren’t usually given to exaggeration, but even if it were so, in this case, we could still picture the extravagance with which the rich splurge with their wealth.
Like the parable from the Gospel, however, it is not so much the extravagance of the rich that the prophet condemns; rather, it is the indifference paid to their poor brethren that is the core of the prophet’s judgment.  For Amos, and at a time when the tribes of Israel were split between the north and the south, it was the indifference of those who lived in Judah—and Jerusalem, specifically—to the plight of their kinsman of the northern tribes who were suffering from an unraveling of their society, in which poverty was widespread.  It is their indifference that will bring condemnation upon them and they—that is, the wealthy of Judah—who will suffer the disgrace of exile first.  This reversal of fortunes because of the indifference of the rich to the poor is best described in Jesus’ parable when, as the rich man, now suffering torment in the afterlife, asks Abraham to send Lazarus to help ease his suffering and hears this reply: “My child, remember that you received what was good during your lifetime while Lazarus likewise received what was bad; but now he is comforted here, whereas you are tormented.”  Lazarus was a kinsman to the rich man and his indifference to his kinsman led him to eternal suffering.
This is the “inconvenient truth” that the Scriptures present to us today: that we, who enjoy what is good during our lifetime will be judged for how we treated those who received what was bad in theirs.  Do we treat them as kinsmen—that is, brothers and sisters who have a claim on our compassion and help?  Or do we treat them with indifference: enjoying the good in our lifetime without much concern for the bad that they are receiving?  The Scriptures make it clear that we must treat them as our brothers and sisters if we expect to inherit the eternal life of happiness that Jesus has won for us.
Many of us, of course, do what we can to help the materially poor around us.  And this is good!  This weekend, however, as the Church celebrates the World Day for Migrants and Refugees, I’d like to highlight that this “inconvenient truth” also demands that we remove all indifference to migrants and refugees who seek help from us to have a better life.  Help, first and foremost, to achieve better living conditions in their native place, then, secondly, help to be received with generosity here if they are no longer able to remain there.  To do either, however, we will have to give up some of our own comforts (that’s why the truth is called “inconvenient”), but to do so is to fulfill the will of God, who loves the poor and hears them when they cry out to him in need.
My brothers and sisters, as Saint Paul once wrote, “There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, man nor woman, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”  Therefore, let us renew our commitment to this “inconvenient truth” that is presented to us today and seek to root out all indifference to our less-fortunate brothers and sisters and so help them.  Just as we, who are poor beggars before God, have been welcomed to this banquet of God’s love and mercy, let us show our thanksgiving by opening our lives to those around us who are suffering and, thus, prepare ourselves and those around us for the eternal life of comfort and consolation that God has prepared for us.
Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – September 28th & 29th, 2019

Sunday, October 28, 2018

Being Bartimeus and Jesus


Homily: 30th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle B
Friends, in our first reading today, the prophet Jeremiah talks about the Israelite exiles returning from their dispersion to Jerusalem—God's holy city.  His message from the Lord contains beautiful language that, for the exiled Israelite, would have been the best news that he/she had heard in a very long time.  Here Jeremiah takes on roles beyond that of prophet: the role of “angel”, or “God’s messenger”, as well as “evangelist”, that is, someone who brings “good news”.  The message is beautiful because it names the anawim, that is, the poor ones, who might not otherwise be included in a large traveling group—the blind, the lame, mothers with children, etc.—and declares that they, too, will be included in this return to Jerusalem.  Still further, the news declares that this will be a triumphant return: in which the roads by which they will return will be smooth—in order to make the travel easier—and that there will be abundant water along the way, so that no one loses strength.  Those Israelites would have heard in this message the contrast to the other great return from exile—the Exodus from Egypt—in which their ancient forefathers traveled over rough roads and were often without water on their journey to the land which God had promised them.  This contrast would have increased their joy at this good news.
As I reflected on this passage, images of the migrant caravan making its way from Honduras, through Mexico, and towards the United States came to mind.  Please allow me to say, up front, that I am not equating this caravan of migrants and the ancient Israelites.  There are obvious differences: the migrants are leaving their homeland, not returning to it, and, as far as I have heard, this isn’t a migration foretold by God.  Nonetheless, there are similarities: those in the caravan are fleeing what, for them, feels like a desperate situation in their homeland; thus, the news of a caravan going to a land in which they have hope for a better future for themselves and their families inspired them to begin the journey.  The images of women with children and other seemingly weak persons taking part in this caravan also resonate with me as I reflect on this passage.  Now, I don’t claim to know what the right thing to do will be when they arrive at our border, but I hope that we will hear their hopes and respond gracefully.
Going back to the scriptures: in the Gospel we see Jesus enacting a fulfillment of this prophecy from Jeremiah.  If you’ve been following along over the past few weeks, Jesus has been on his way to Jerusalem: his final trip to Jerusalem.  Over the past few years, he had been teaching and quite a large group of disciples had begun to follow him.  On this last trip to Jerusalem, going up for the great feast of Passover, this large group of disciples were following him: giving us an image of the exiled Israelites being led back to God’s holy city.  Leaving Jericho (itself a city of symbolism: as it was the city at the lowest point—geographically—on the journey to Jerusalem from which one truly began his/her “ascent” to God in Jerusalem), the blind man Bartimeus calls out to Jesus and asks for “mercy”.  He uses the messianic term—”Son of David”—to address Jesus, thus also indicating that Jesus is doing something bigger than just “going up for the feast”.  Jesus stops, calls the man to him and grants him his desire to see.  Although Jesus dismisses the man to his own way, Bartimeus begins to follow Jesus to Jerusalem: the blind now joining in this “return from exile”.  While this, in itself, is an important connection to make, I think that there is more for us to take away this Sunday.
One image that came to mind while I was reflecting on this Gospel passage was the “running scene” in the film Forrest Gump.  Forrest is in middle age and has accomplished amazing things in his life.  He’s lost his mom and some close friends and in a moment of reflection, he decides to get up and start running.  Although he didn’t intend to go far at first, as he reached each “boundary” (the street, the town, the county, the state), he just decided to keep running.  He ran to the Pacific Ocean and then turned around and ran to the Atlantic Ocean.  Then, he turned around and ran back to the Pacific Ocean: all, by his own account, “for no particular reason”.  Soon the media finds out that this guy is running coast to coast continuously and people start to take interest.  People are intrigued and think that he must be some sort of “spiritual or political guru” to do something so radical and yet to be so quiet about it and so begin to follow him.  They think that he must be going somewhere and want to follow him there.  Ultimately, however, Forrest wasn’t going anywhere: he “just felt like running”.  And so, when he stopped feeling that way, he stopped running and went home: leaving his “followers”, stunned and speechless, in the middle of a desert highway.
I thought of this because of the contrast to Jesus in the Gospel.  There, Jesus is going somewhere: he’s leading people to the fulfillment of the promise; he’s leading people to Jerusalem, where he will be crucified.  Those who are following him, are following him to the cross.  The healing of the blind man Bartimeus shows us that Jesus came “to make all things new”; and his leading people to Jerusalem where he will be crucified shows us that it is through the cross that he will accomplish it.  Still more, the healing of Bartimeus and his subsequent following of Jesus shows us that Jesus desires that no one be left behind: if only they would cry out to him for mercy and respond to him when he calls.  For us who have been called and responded, it is a reminder that Jesus is not leading us to nowhere, but rather from our exile to the “new Jerusalem”: which is eternal life in God’s heavenly kingdom.
My brothers and sisters, one thing we should take from these readings today is this: that we are both Bartimeus and Jesus.  Bartimeus because we all have spiritual (and perhaps physical) blindnesses that only Jesus can heal; and that we have to cry out to him, asking for his mercy.  Jesus because he chooses to work through us so that others might come to experience his mercy, too.  We, therefore, must both cry out to him for his mercy and call out to the blind who are on the side of the road to come to him.  To put it, perhaps, more distinctly: here in the Mass we are Bartimeus; then, at the end of Mass, we are sent out to be Jesus.
Friends, here we are: in exile in this world!  But God knows that he made us to be with him in the eternal holy city that he has prepared for us.  We are following Jesus, who desires to lead all who willingly come to him into that eternal city and his death, resurrection from the dead, and ascension into heaven is our proof that he isn’t leading us to nowhere, but to that place to which, deep within us, we desperately long to return.  Let us, therefore, cry out to him today for his mercy (and for mercy on all those torn by violence in this world!) and receive from him—from this altar—what we most desire: union with him.  Then, armed with this euangelium—this good news—let us go back into the world to proclaim it with our lives.
Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – October 28th, 2018