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Click here for information on the Knights of Columbus Charity Golf Tournament held on Saturday, June 15, 2024.
When I was studying for the Diaconate one of my Scripture classes was titled, “Difficult Passages in the Bible.” We looked at passages in both the Old and New Testament that were difficult to understand, that seemed contrary to what Jesus taught. Passages that seemed impossible to preach on. Today’s Gospel would have to rank in the top ten of difficult passages. “Do you think that I have come to establish peace on the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division.” It goes on to talk about creating division, in fact it saves the greatest division for last: a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law!
Wait a minute, I thought peace was exactly what Christ came to bring? Peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you. How do we make sense of this inconsistency? While we might have trouble relating this Gospel to our own lives, there are places in the world where it certainly rings true. In China, being a Christian can be very costly. In Syria and Iraq Christianity can literally cost you your life. People in these countries understand that accepting Jesus means you have to accept alienation, persecution and even death itself. We saw a few weeks ago in France, a Christian country, a priest brutally murdered simply because he was a Catholic clergy.
But for most of us, following Jesus does not alienate us from anyone. In fact, political correctness requires us to say nothing controversial, nothing that offends anyone, nothing that will get us, like Jeremiah, dumped in a well, sinking in mud. In our sincere desire to be inclusive, not to offend or embarrass anyone, we have lost a sense of what it means to be followers of Jesus. Certainly Jesus brought to this world a profound sense of inclusiveness: He ate with sinners, accepted the divorced Samaritan woman at the well, the outcast lepers, called a despised tax collector to be his follower. He brought the outsiders of the world into His life, into His heart. And He asks us to do the same. But today’s Gospel is a reminder that inclusiveness does not mean abandonment of our fundamental beliefs or of our loyalty as disciples of Jesus. In the same solid tradition of Jeremiah sinking in the mud at the bottom of the cistern, Jesus reminds us that following him will cost us something. Being a prophet has a price.
The word religion literally refers to that which binds us together, what we believe that is unique to us. Because of that there is actually a sense of exclusiveness in every religion. Orthodox Jews don’t want to be forced to give up their dietary laws; Quakers don’t want to be forced to serve in the military; Fundamentalist Christians don’t want evolution to be taught to their children; Muslims don’t want local law to trump Sharia law in their lives. Adhering to a belief system is what religion is all about.
And what about us Catholic Christians? Why are so many of us afraid to bless ourselves and say grace before a meal in public, whether at McDonald’s or at the DeSoto Club? Why are we embarrassed to go to a club meeting on Ash Wednesday with ashes on our forehead? When the person at the checkout counter greets us with “happy holidays,” why are we afraid to respond, “Merry and Blessed Christmas to you”? Why do we think that Jesus brings a false peace where everyone is politically correct, no one is offended, no one is called to task, no one is told, “That is not what Christians believe or how Christians ought to act”?
And for heaven’s sake, why do we think we have come to hear an easy Gospel, be lulled into a false security, belong to a religion that cost us nothing. The Gospel today calls all of us to a faith that is not cheap, not wimpy, not politically correct. “Jesus said, ‘I have come to set the earth on fire, and how I wish it were already blazing!’”
Wait a minute, I thought peace was exactly what Christ came to bring? Peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you. How do we make sense of this inconsistency? While we might have trouble relating this Gospel to our own lives, there are places in the world where it certainly rings true. In China, being a Christian can be very costly. In Syria and Iraq Christianity can literally cost you your life. People in these countries understand that accepting Jesus means you have to accept alienation, persecution and even death itself. We saw a few weeks ago in France, a Christian country, a priest brutally murdered simply because he was a Catholic clergy.
But for most of us, following Jesus does not alienate us from anyone. In fact, political correctness requires us to say nothing controversial, nothing that offends anyone, nothing that will get us, like Jeremiah, dumped in a well, sinking in mud. In our sincere desire to be inclusive, not to offend or embarrass anyone, we have lost a sense of what it means to be followers of Jesus. Certainly Jesus brought to this world a profound sense of inclusiveness: He ate with sinners, accepted the divorced Samaritan woman at the well, the outcast lepers, called a despised tax collector to be his follower. He brought the outsiders of the world into His life, into His heart. And He asks us to do the same. But today’s Gospel is a reminder that inclusiveness does not mean abandonment of our fundamental beliefs or of our loyalty as disciples of Jesus. In the same solid tradition of Jeremiah sinking in the mud at the bottom of the cistern, Jesus reminds us that following him will cost us something. Being a prophet has a price.
The word religion literally refers to that which binds us together, what we believe that is unique to us. Because of that there is actually a sense of exclusiveness in every religion. Orthodox Jews don’t want to be forced to give up their dietary laws; Quakers don’t want to be forced to serve in the military; Fundamentalist Christians don’t want evolution to be taught to their children; Muslims don’t want local law to trump Sharia law in their lives. Adhering to a belief system is what religion is all about.
And what about us Catholic Christians? Why are so many of us afraid to bless ourselves and say grace before a meal in public, whether at McDonald’s or at the DeSoto Club? Why are we embarrassed to go to a club meeting on Ash Wednesday with ashes on our forehead? When the person at the checkout counter greets us with “happy holidays,” why are we afraid to respond, “Merry and Blessed Christmas to you”? Why do we think that Jesus brings a false peace where everyone is politically correct, no one is offended, no one is called to task, no one is told, “That is not what Christians believe or how Christians ought to act”?
And for heaven’s sake, why do we think we have come to hear an easy Gospel, be lulled into a false security, belong to a religion that cost us nothing. The Gospel today calls all of us to a faith that is not cheap, not wimpy, not politically correct. “Jesus said, ‘I have come to set the earth on fire, and how I wish it were already blazing!’”