Rooting out evil.

Homily: 29^th Sunday of Ordinary Time – Cycle C

          One of the things that I find very curious about our culture is the paradoxical fascination that we have with violence.  Daily we are bombarded with images of real violence and the suffering that it causes in the news, on social media, and, for some of us, even in our own neighborhoods.  Yet, we continue to fill our senses with “make believe” violence in movies, television, and video games as if we were somehow fascinated with it.  Thus, the paradox is that real violence ought to cause us anguish and so it wouldn’t make sense that even fake violence would be entertaining.  But just one look at the summer movie blockbusters, the latest hit TV shows, and the most popular video games is all it takes to realize that our culture does, indeed, find fake violence strangely entertaining.

          Of course, this is not limited to our modern culture.  One can look back throughout the history of civilization and see that in every age there was some form of “make believe” violence that was used as entertainment; and that some cultures even came to thrive on real violence instead.  Even our Bible is rife with images of violence, particularly in the Old Testament.  Just look at our first reading today.  It details how Joshua led the Israelite army against the Amalekites and how he “mowed down Amalek and his people with the edge of the sword.”  He destroyed not just Amalek’s army, but his entire people, too.  And we read this here in Mass today as if this kind of violence is something that we are supposed to feel good about because the Israelites, God’s people, killed every person from another nation who threatened them.  Doesn’t that seem odd?  I don’t know, maybe since we’ve been so overwhelmed with images of violence, both real and fake, perhaps we’ve “switched off” our sensitivity to it, but for me an image of such violence, seemingly approved by God, doesn’t sit very well.  Perhaps some of you are like me.

          One of the things that I often find myself doing is reading the Bible too literally, as if it is scientific history.  You know, most of the stories that are included in the bible were first handed down orally, that is, solely by word of mouth.  Now you and I both know that the concrete facts of a history will often change and mutate as it is told over and over again and so the likelihood that the historical stories that are preserved for us in the Bible depict for us the exact sequence of historical events is pretty low.  Does that make them any less true?  Of course not.  But it does force us to take a deeper look at how we read and interpret these stories.

          An allegory is a story, poem, or picture which can be interpreted to reveal a hidden meaning, typically a moral or political one.  In other words, it’s a literary tool that is used to express something in a way that helps communicate it in a way that just stating the facts wouldn’t be able to express.  When we read today’s first reading literally, we might conclude that God’s chosen people are superior to others and therefore that whenever others threaten the well-being of God’s chosen people, that every man, woman, and child among them should be killed.  When we read it allegorically, however, we can find a much more profound meaning that is consistent with our understanding of God as loving, merciful, and just.

          You see, allegorically speaking, this is not just a battle between two nations where the nation that is favored by God destroys the other.  No, it is a battle between Good, represented by the Israelites who were set apart for a special relationship with God, and Evil, represented by the Amalekites who were considered a force that could turn the Israelites away from their relationship with God.  Therefore, the battle is not a physical one, but a spiritual one, nonetheless represented in physical terms so that we can understand it.

          With this hermeneutic, that is, with this “lens” for interpreting the story, we see that this is not a story about God’s people conquering other nations so as to reign over them (it can’t be, because we already know that Jesus himself said that his kingdom was not of this world), but rather that it is story about rooting out evil from our midst so as not to be overcome by it.  “In those days, Amalek [that is, an evil influence] came and waged war against Israel [that is, someone part of God’s people].  Moses [who here represents the conscience of the Israelite people], therefore, said to Joshua [who represents the mind and heart of the Israelites] … go out and engage Amalek in battle.  I will be standing on top of the hill with the staff of God in my hand [that is, I’ll be in constant prayer while you engage this battle so that the power of God will be with us].”

          Has anyone here ever battled against sin?  Doesn’t that battle (if we engage it) always take this form?  Sin (that is, an evil influence) comes to tempt us.  Our conscience says “whoa, this is bad; you better fight this!”  And our mind and heart says… what?  “Forget you conscience, this looks fun!”  Well, I guess that happens sometimes.  But usually it says “Ok, you’re right, we need to fight this.”  And so you engage in the battle against sin.

          If you win the particular battle do you say, “Ok, that was enough, I beat that temptation”?  Probably more often than not we do.  Then, what happens next?  Well the temptation comes back again, only stronger the second time right?  And so we quickly learn that we can’t just win battles against individual temptations, but we have to root out the source of the evil influence so as to prevent all temptations from coming.  This, my brothers and sisters, is the allegorical meaning of “Joshua mowed down Amalek and his people [the temptation and the root of the temptations] with the edge of the sword.”  Is it starting to become clear yet?

          Now that we’re getting good at this, look at the part that Moses plays in the victory over sin.  There’s a direct connection, right?  “As long as Moses kept his hands raised up, Israel had the better of the fight, but when he let his hands rest, Amalek had the better of the fight.”  Moses was the intercessor to God on behalf of the Israelites, and so what else can this mean except that as long as Moses had his hands raised in prayer, calling down God’s power on Joshua and his men, they had the better of the fight; but when he became tired and his hands drooped, Amalek and his troops started to gain advantage.  Prayer, then, is critical in our fight against evil.  If we are fervent and consistent in our prayer, we will overcome evil in our lives and root out its influence on us.  If we become slack, evil will begin to overtake us and possibly destroy us.

          Ah, but Moses had help, right?  No, it wasn’t Moses alone, but Moses with the help of the community: his brother Aaron and their companion Hur.  With their help he was able to keep his hands raised in prayer long enough for Joshua and his men to win the battle.  So, too, do we need the help of our brothers and sisters to overcome and completely eliminate any evil influence in our lives and so we should ask for it frequently.

          You know, one of the things that is happening in our society is that we are giving up our imaginations in favor of stimulation.  With imagination we strive to interpret stories and events in our lives in order to find what meaning it has for us.  Our culture, however, is training us absorb stimulation, instead.  When all we’re doing is receiving stimulation, there’s nothing more for us to do.  It’s either there or it isn’t; and if it isn’t, we’re trained to seek more.  When we engage our imagination, however, we begin to see events in our lives in allegorical terms.  In other words, we begin to see the events of our lives through an interpretive lens that adds meaning and depth to what we experience.

          And so, what does this mean?  Well it means that we begin to see our struggle with sin in terms of a greater spiritual battle: the dramatic “Good vs. Evil” that is constantly being waged throughout the universe, instead of the “self-help” exercise to which society wants to reduce it.  And I’m not talking just about the big things, I’m talking about the little things: the gossip, the jealousy, the judgmentalism with which we find ourselves battling daily.  It is not enough to win a battle on any given day; rather, we must engage the war to root out its sources in our lives.

          To do so, we must pray and pray constantly.  Just as Joshua could not defeat Amalek without Moses’ prayer, neither can we hope to root sin out of our lives without the help of God’s grace in prayer.  When we feel too weak to pray, we must not give up; but rather we must ask the help of our friends, our community of faith, for together we can win the war.  My brothers and sisters, we must not be afraid to take up this battle, for God will not fail to help us; because the victory… yes the victory is already ours in Jesus Christ.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – October 20^th, 2019

The least are all the more necessary

Homily: 3^rd Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle C

These past two weeks, I was in Central America—El Salvador and Guatemala, to be precise—for a pilgrimage with other priests, deacons, and religious from around the country visiting the sites of the Central American martyrs.  These are persons like Saint Oscar Romero, a bishop in El Salvador, and the newly beatified Blessed Stanley Rother, who was a priest from Oklahoma who went to serve in Guatemala. My anticipation when making this trip was that I’d be inspired be these holy priests and others who gave their lives for their people.  From that standpoint (in case you wanted to ask), the trip was great.

In between those visits, our group was inundated (literally, flooded!) with information about the civil violence in El Salvador and Guatemala in the 70’s and 80’s, in which individual witnesses to the violence perpetrated against innocent persons (in some cases, whole villages!) was recounted.  From this standpoint, the trip was horrible (and I mean by that, horrifying). I hope to be able to recount something of what I heard to you all in the next weeks, but now I’ll just say that that the stories of government sponsored atrocities against innocent people were sickening, saddening, and depressing.

Consoling through all of these stories was meeting some of the men and women who lived through these terrible times (which, by the way, haven’t completely ended) and who nonetheless have found a reason for hope in their Catholic faith.  I encountered in the Maryknoll missionaries who worked with these people during these terrible times what it really means when the Church says that she has a “preferential option for the poor”, as they risked their lives to serve the needs and defend the rights of people who had very little resources to defend themselves.  Finally, I discovered in myself an experience not unlike that which the people experienced in our first reading in today’s Mass.

There, the priest Ezra presents the newly recovered scroll of the Law of Moses, which had been lost to whole generations of Israelites as they were in exile in Babylon.  Now, back in Jerusalem and tasked with rebuilding the city and, specifically, the Temple, the Israelites need some inspiration. Thus, Ezra calls the people together to read to them from the Torah (probably the book of Deuteronomy).  As he does, the people weep.  Scholars say that they wept both for joy and sorrow. Joy, because this word of God is filled with wisdom: wisdom that they had never heard in their lives and which they are now happy to receive (wisdom being such an sought after gift to the peoples of those times).  Sorrow, because they remembered the sins of their ancestors that caused them to be taken into exile and because they recognized the sins under which they, themselves, had been living.

As I went through this pilgrimage, I, too, experienced joy and sorrow.  Joy, as the truth of the Gospel that “brings glad tidings to the poor” pierced my heart: wounding me with its beauty.  Sorrow, as I recognized the sins of generations past that have assaulted that beauty (and continue to do so today) as well as my own sins of ignorance, indifference, and inaction.  As we heard story after story of injustices perpetrated against the poor my sadness grew.  Then, I had a realization: I realized that there would be no happy ending to this pilgrimage.  In other words, there would be no end to this story in which all of these negative scenes would be wrapped up into some positive conclusion, and this increased my sorrow.

Early this past week, however, I found words of consolation: words that helped me to see that there can be a “happy ending”.  In the Office of Readings for the feast of Saint Vincent, Deacon and Martyr, these words of Saint Augustine were provided for reflection: “Against Christ’s army the world arrays a twofold battleline.  It offers temptation to lead us astray; it strikes terror into us to break our spirit.  Hence if our personal pleasures do not hold us captive, and if we are not frightened by brutality, then the world is overcome.”  I think that Saint Augustine nailed it right on the head: What holds me back from acting on behalf of the poor except my fear of becoming poor myself or of what others might do to me if I do?  Thus, if I can overcome my captivity to personal pleasures (and, thus, risk becoming poor) and if I can overcome my fear of reprisals (verbal and/or physical), then I can act with full freedom and release the full power of the Gospel and, thus, do something to bring about the “happy ending” for which I am looking.

Looking at today’s Gospel reading, we see that this is precisely the example that our Lord Jesus has given to us.  There, he comes into the synagogue at Nazareth and solemnly declares that he is the one to fulfill the prophesies of Isaiah of the one who would come to liberate God’s people and inaugurate the kingdom of God.  In doing so, he turned his back on personal pleasures and turned his life towards that of being a poor, itinerant preacher; and he overcame every fear of reprisal: reprisals that, ultimately, would lead to his death.

His death (an unjust death, by the way, driven by the fear of the religious elite) led to his resurrection and the chance for every person to find reconciliation with God and eternal life with him.  Our work, as Christians—that is, followers of Christ—is to continue Christ’s work of proclaiming this Good News by helping people break free from their captivity to their personal pleasures and to overcome their fear of the brutality that the world can inflict upon them; and, thus, work to bring forth God’s kingdom: a kingdom in which the poor hear glad tidings, liberty is proclaimed to captives, sight is restored to the blind, and the oppressed are set free.  Friends, if this is not our aim in life, then we are shirking the responsibilities given to us.

Saint Paul, in our second reading, makes this point even more clear.  There he says that, as members of Christ’s Body, we are all one; and that no member of the body, regardless of how important it may seem, is any more important than any other.  In fact, he says, those members of the body that seem to be least important are “all the more necessary” and are “surrounded with greater honor”.  Thus, the question comes to us: Do the poor have an honored place among us?  Or do we keep them at “arm’s length" so as not to make us too uncomfortable?  Do we allow them to show us what a just kingdom might look like?  Or do we condescend and try to instruct them, instead?

Friends, there are members of Christ’s Body, the Church, all over the world, right here in Lafayette, and, probably, right here in our church, who are suffering right now.  Are we suffering with them?  Some of us, yes.  Many of us, however, no.  Probably most of us, not enough.  And so, if these words cut to your heart, good.  Be sober about this reality and examine your conscience.  Ask God to show you the ways that you might better work to bring forth God’s kingdom of justice and to grow in solidarity with the poor and marginalized in our society.  Then risk becoming poor yourself and the reprisals of those who benefit from keeping the poor in their poverty by working to realize the ideals of justice and solidarity with which God has inspired you.  In this way you will truly suffer with the members who are suffering and be honored with those members who are honored.

Yes, friends, be sober about this reality, but try not to be sad: because the victory over sin and injustice has already been won in Jesus.  Rejoice, therefore, for in Christ we have overcome the world; and justice for every person—from conception to natural death, each created in the supreme dignity of the image of God—can be realized when we allow God’s Spirit to work in and through us.  Yes, rejoice and give thanks today for Christ’s victory; and then choose to make the fruits of Christ’s victory—that is, the fullness of God’s kingdom—present among us.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – January 26^th & 27^th, 2019

A Prayer of Repentance

Friends,

I, like all of you, have been appalled at the violent and senseless attack that occurred in Las Vegas on Sunday.  I can't imagine the fear and the horror that was experienced by those attending that concert and, for those who will survive, the traumatic memories that will scar their minds and hearts for many years to come.

I suppose that I was surprised, however, that one of my first thoughts after first hearing about this attack was "So what?  People are being shot and killed in the streets of Chicago every day!"  I quickly looked up to see where this tragedy in Las Vegas ranked aside the violence that happened in Chicago that same weekend.  4 persons killed (killed!) and 29 injured by gun violence in Chicago alone last weekend.  Over 470 people have been murdered in Chicago since January 1, 2017.  No national headlines, though, because (sadly) this has become normal in Chicago.

Because our hearts can't handle daily grieving of the sort demanded by the daily losses being suffered in Chicago (and many other cities), it takes violence of grand proportion to get our attention.  This is an emotional defense mechanism that allows us to get on with our lives, which is normal; and so I'm not blaming anyone (myself included) for not reacting to these daily tragedies.  The contrast in our reactions, however, should give us pause to ask ourselves whether we are insulating our hearts from being overwhelmed or intentionally ignoring an uncomfortable truth, one that demands something of us.  If I had to guess, I'd say that we all began in the former, but have found ourselves in the latter.

Friends, what happened in Las Vegas was not an isolated incident.  I have no data to prove a direct connection to any other influences that the shooter may have had, of course, but I know that this violent act was not isolated from the thousands of other violent acts (of lesser proportion) that are perpetrated day-in and day-out in cities and towns throughout our country and our world.  This, because all violence is a result of unrepented sin in our lives.  When we tolerate even small sin in our own lives, we give sin a place to extend its roots and be nourished, which then allows it to spring forth in thousands of violent ways each and every day; and sometimes in incomprehensibly grand ways, like it did in Las Vegas this past Sunday.

So what do we do?  Well, I hope that you can already see the (decidedly uncomfortable) answer: we must each cry out to our Lord Jesus for mercy and then work to purge sin from our own lives and help those closest to us to do the same.  Perhaps we can begin by praying this prayer of repentance today (see below) and making a commitment to seriously examining our lives so as to purge sin completely from them.  Then, I'd suggest getting to know your neighbors (the persons who, literally, live on either side of you), if you don't know them already.  No one goes on a violent rampage because their neighbors were "too kind" to him/her.  We are our brothers' keepers.  Let's make sure that we are fulfilling this important responsibility.

May the Precious Blood of Jesus wash over us and cleanse us, so that we might enter the life that his shed Blood won for us: the life of light, happiness, and peace with him eternally in heaven.

Prayer of Repentance

LORD, WHO ARE WE AS A PEOPLE, having been given blessings in portions as no other nation before us?  What has become of us, Father?  We have spoiled your spacious skies with buildings and cities breathing with sin.  The amber waves of grain are no longer viewed as our blessing but as our due.  The awe and reverence due You when we gaze upon the purple mountains and their majesty is no longer held; rather, how much pleasure they can give us.  Father, we have spurned You.  We’ve blamed our problems on those who promote darkness, but You have revealed yourself to us through Your Son.  Now our eyes have been opened by Him.  Our lack of holiness, our not being light has allowed darkness to prevail.  Indeed, our sins which we wrongly view as small have allowed those in darkness to commit great sins without shame.  We now realize that it is because of our failings as Christians.  Father, Samuel told your people, “It is true you have committed all this evil, still you must not turn from the Lord, but worship Him with your whole heart. For the sake of His own great name, the Lord will not abandon his own people.”  Father, we come before You with our whole hearts and ask You to grant us the pardon won for us by your Son.

Jesus, we do not deserve to even be heard, yet we know Your passion merits that we are.  Lord Jesus, we call You as You have called us.  Please, intercede before God to forgive us, to heal us, to heal our families, and to heal our nation.

Father, grant Your Son’s intentions and hear His pleas for us. We know you are justly irritated with us but we beg and plead for forgiveness through our repentance from our hearts.  We realize our nation is headed toward disaster by so many signs You have given us.  Holy, Holy, Holy God, grant Your Son His requests that we may again be your people, not a nation above God but one nation humbled and under God.  Amen.

Adapted from the “Prayer to Heal America” by A Friend of Medjugorje

Entertaining Angels

Homily: 16^th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle C

          Writer, editor and social reformer Dorothy Day was born on November 8, 1897, in New York City. She was the third of five children born to her parents, Grace and John.  Her father worked as a journalist.  Because of this, the family moved to California when Dorothy was six years old.  Later, however, they would live in Chicago.

          A bright student, Day was accepted to the University of Illinois. She was enrolled there from 1914 to 1916, but she abandoned her studies to move to New York City. There, she became involved with a literary and liberal crowd in the city's Greenwich Village neighborhood. She worked as a journalist, writing for several socialist and progressive publications in the 1910s and '20s.  Socially and politically active, Day was arrested several times for her involvement in protests.  In 1917 she went on a hunger strike after being jailed for protesting in front of the White House as part of an effort to secure the right to vote for women.

          In her personal life, Day experienced turmoil. After a couple of failed relationships, one of which led to her procuring an abortion, she entered a common-law marriage with Forster Batterham, a biologist and an anarchist.  They gave birth to a daughter named Tamar Teresa, but Day’s choice to have the child baptized at a Catholic church caused her anarchist husband to leave her.  It was this decision, however, that started her on the path to her spiritual awakening; and, in late 1927, she converted to Catholicism.

          In 1932, Day met Peter Maurin, a French immigrant and former Christian Brother. The following year, they founded The Catholic Worker, a newspaper that promoted Catholic teachings and examined societal issues. The publication became very successful and spawned the Catholic Worker Movement, which followed its religious principles to tackle issues of social justice. As part of the movement’s belief in radical hospitality, Day helped establish special homes to help those in need. Peter Maurin’s influence is evident here as he often quoted Hebrews chapter thirteen, verse two, which says: “Do not neglect hospitality, for through it some have unknowingly entertained angels.”

          Day would go on to do many more things in her life, but through it all her insistence on radical conformity to the Gospel, not just in words, but in concrete action, was a constant.  Thus, her cause for canonization has been accepted by the Vatican and she has received the title “Servant of God”.

          Hospitality was an important value among the people of the Ancient Near East and in our Scripture readings today we see the truth of what the author to the Letter to the Hebrews was talking about.  In the reading from the book of Genesis it describes how the Lord appeared to Abraham as three men on a journey.  They appeared at the hot part of the day, when the day’s journey would be most difficult.  Upon seeing them, Abraham jumps to action: not just offering them some relief from the heat of the day, but rather insisting with them that they allow him to show them this act of hospitality.  He did not know them, and his first reaction wasn’t suspicion, but rather generous hospitality.  As it turns out, he was entertaining angels: true messengers of the Lord who then gave him good news; that his wife, Sarah, whom all thought was barren due to her old age, would give birth to a son within a year.

          In our Gospel reading, we read that Jesus, upon entering a village, was welcomed by Martha.  It doesn’t say that Martha was the first to offer him hospitality, but I suppose that we might assume as much since the rules of etiquette require that we accept the first offer we are given.  There, much like Abraham did for the Lord’s messengers, Martha busied herself with preparing food and refreshments for Jesus and his disciples.  Thinking it rude that her sister Mary was not as occupied with trying to serve their guests, she asks Jesus to reproach her so that she might be embarrassed and begin to help with the serving.  Jesus, however, reminds Martha that, while serving is a good thing, it is not as important as recognizing who it is that is in your midst: for when you do, you may just find that you’ve been entertaining angels (or, in this case, the Son of God) and that those angels may be ready to bring you good news.

          My brothers and sisters, as I reflect on the high-profile acts of violence that have been happening, most recently the horrific attack on innocent life that happened in Nice, France, last Thursday, I am convinced that one of the root causes of this violence is a loss of this value of hospitality.  This is because to be radically hospitable one has to acknowledge the inherent dignity and value of every person, regardless of whether or not they are known to you.  When we look at others with suspicion, instead of rushing to serve them, like Abraham and Martha did, and like Dorothy Day did, that sets us up to believe that it’s “us versus them”; and if it’s “us versus them” then their lives automatically become less valuable to us; which then makes it possible to harm them for our advantage, instead of to serve them for theirs.

          Friends, if we want to see a real change in this world, then we must start right here in our own families and in our community, changing the prevailing mentality from “us versus them” to “us for them”.  We must begin, however, where Martha’s sister Mary did—sitting at the feet of Jesus listening to him speak—because he will be our solid rock supporting us as we serve and the angel whose face we will see in the faces of those whom we serve.  Therefore, let us make it our task this week to open our hearts a little more to Jesus by giving him more time in prayer and our lives to him by practicing greater hospitality to all whom we meet.  Because in doing so, we may find that we, too, “unknowingly entertained angels”.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – July 17^th, 2016

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"Entertaining Angels" is a good film on the life of Dorothy Day.

See a trailer here.

The return of the imagination...

          It was one of those weeks when I didn't feel like I had adequate time to prepare for this homily.  I had an idea of what I wanted to preach about but wasn't sure that it was the right direction to go.  Then this video by Fr. Robert Barron popped up and confirmed for me that I needed to preach on this topic.  Enjoy!

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Homily: 29^th Sunday of Ordinary Time – Cycle C

          One of the things that I find very curious about our culture is what I am calling the paradoxical fascination that we have with violence.  Daily we are bombarded with images of real violence and the suffering that it causes in the news, on social media, and, for some of us, even in our own neighborhoods.  Yet, we continue to fill our senses with “make believe” violence in movies, television, and video games as if we were somehow fascinated with it.  Thus, the paradox is that real violence ought to cause us anguish and so it wouldn’t make sense that even fake violence would be entertaining.  But just one look at the summer movie blockbusters, the latest hit TV shows, and the most popular video games is all it takes to realize that our culture does, indeed, find fake violence strangely entertaining.

          Of course, this is not limited to our modern culture.  One can look back throughout the history of civilization and see that in every age there was some form of “make believe” violence that was used as entertainment; and that some cultures even came to thrive on real violence instead.  Even our Bible is rife with images of violence, particularly in the Old Testament.  Just look at our first reading today.  It details how Joshua led the Israelite army against the Amalekites and how he “mowed down Amalek and his people with the edge of the sword.”  He destroyed not just Amalek’s army, but his entire people, too.  And we read this here in Mass today as if this kind of violence is something that we are supposed to feel good about because the Israelites, God’s people, killed every person from another nation who threatened them.  Doesn’t that seem odd?  I don’t know, maybe since we’ve been so overwhelmed with images of violence, both real and fake, perhaps we’ve “switched off” our sensitivity to it, but for me an image of such violence, seemingly approved by God, doesn’t sit very well.  Perhaps some of you are like me.

          One of the things that I find myself often doing is reading the Bible too literally, as if it is scientific history.  You know, most of the stories that are included in the bible were first handed down orally, that is, solely by word of mouth.  Now you and I both know that the concrete facts of a history will often change and mutate as it is told over and over again and so the likelihood that the historical stories that are preserved for us in the Bible depict for us the exact sequence of historical events is pretty low.  Does that make them any less true?  Of course not.  But it does force us to take a deeper look at how we read and interpret these stories.

          An allegory is a story, poem, or picture which can be interpreted to reveal a hidden meaning, typically a moral or political one.  In other words, it’s a literary tool that is used to express something in a way that helps communicate it in a way that just stating the facts wouldn’t be able to express.  When we read today’s first reading literally, we might conclude that God’s chosen people are superior to others and therefore that whenever others threaten the well-being of God’s chosen people, that every man, woman, and child among them should be killed.  When we read it allegorically, however, we can find a much more profound meaning that is consistent with our understanding of God as loving, merciful, and just.

          You see, allegorically speaking, this is not just a battle between two nations where the nation that is favored by God destroys the other.  No, it is a battle between Good, represented by the Israelites who were set apart for a special relationship with God, and Evil, represented by the Amalekites who were considered a force that could turn the Israelites away from their relationship with God.  Therefore, the battle is not a physical one, but a spiritual one, nonetheless represented in physical terms so that we can understand it.

          With this hermeneutic, that is, with this “lens” for interpreting the story, we see that this is not a story about God’s people conquering other nations so as to reign over them (it can’t be, because we already know that Jesus himself said that his kingdom was not of this world), but rather that it is story about rooting out evil from our midst so as not to be overcome by it.  “In those days, Amalek [that is, an evil influence] came and waged war against Israel [that is, someone part of God’s people].  Moses [who here represents the conscience of the Israelite people], therefore, said to Joshua [who represents the mind and heart of the Israelites] … go out and engage Amalek in battle.  I will be standing on top of the hill with the staff of God in my hand [that is, I’ll be in constant prayer while you engage this battle so that the power of God will be with us].”

          Has anyone here ever battled against sin?  Doesn’t that battle (if we engage it) always take this form?  Sin (that is, an evil influence) comes to tempt us.  Our conscience says “whoa, this is bad; you better fight this!”  And our mind and heart says… what?  “Forget you conscience, this looks fun!”  Well, I guess that happens sometimes.  But usually it says “Ok, you’re right, we need to fight this.”  And so you engage in the battle against sin.

          If you win the particular battle do you say, “Ok, that was enough, I beat that temptation”?  Probably more often than not we do.  Then, what happens next?  Well the temptation comes back again, only stronger the second time right?  And so we quickly learn that we can’t just win battles against individual temptations, but we have to root out the source of the evil influence so as to prevent all temptations from coming.  This, my brothers and sisters, is the allegorical meaning of “Joshua mowed down Amalek and his people [the temptation and the root of the temptations] with the edge of the sword.”  Is it starting to become clear yet?

          Now that we’re getting good at this, look at the part that Moses plays in the victory over sin.  There’s a direct connection, right?  “As long as Moses kept his hands raised up, Israel had the better of the fight, but when he let his hands rest, Amalek had the better of the fight.”  Moses was the intercessor to God on behalf of the Israelites, and so what else can this mean except that as long as Moses had his hands raised in prayer, calling down God’s power on Joshua and his men, they had the better of the fight; but when he became tired and his hands drooped, Amalek and his troops started to gain advantage.  Prayer, then, is critical in our fight against evil.  If we are fervent and consistent in our prayer, we will overcome evil in our lives and root out its influence on us.  If we become slack, evil will begin to overtake us and possibly destroy us.

          Ah, but Moses had help, right?  No, it wasn’t Moses alone, but Moses with the help of the community: his brother Aaron and their companion Hur.  With their help he was able to keep his hands raised in prayer long enough for Joshua and his men to win the battle.  So, too, do we need the help of our brothers and sisters to overcome and completely eliminate any evil influence in our lives and so we should ask for it frequently.

          You know, one of the things that is happening in our society is that we are giving up our imaginations in favor of stimulation.  With imagination we strive to interpret stories and events in our lives in order to find what meaning it has for us.  Our culture, however, is training us absorb stimulation, instead.  When all we’re doing is receiving stimulation, there’s nothing more for us to do.  It’s either there or it isn’t; and if it isn’t, we’re trained to seek more.  When we engage our imagination, however, we begin to see events in our lives in allegorical terms.  In other words, we begin to see the events of our lives through an interpretive lens that adds meaning and depth to what we experience.

          And so, what does this mean?  Well it means that we begin to see our struggle with sin in terms of a greater spiritual battle: the dramatic “Good vs. Evil” that is constantly being waged throughout the universe instead of the “self-help” exercise that society wants to reduce it to.  And I’m not just talking about the big things, I’m talking about the little things: the gossip, the jealousy, the judgmentalism that we find ourselves battling with daily.  It is not enough to win a battle on any given day; rather we must engage the war to root out its sources in our lives.

          To do so, we must pray and pray constantly.  Just as Joshua could not defeat Amalek without Moses’ prayer, neither can we hope to root sin out of our lives without the help of God’s grace in prayer.  When we feel too weak to pray, we must not give up, but rather we must ask the help of our friends, our community of faith, for together we can win the war.  My brothers and sisters, we must not be afraid to take up this battle for God will not fail to help us; because the victory… yes the victory is already ours in Jesus Christ.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – October 19^th & 20^th, 2013