The text:
One of my Scripture professors in
seminary always says, “If you aren't ticking someone off, you
probably aren't doing the right thing.” Though we may chuckle at
this seemingly simple phrase, something about it rings true.
In our reading from Second
Corinthians, Paul relates the many hardships he has endured for the
sake of the Gospel. He was beaten, whipped, imprisoned, and
shipwrecked. His life was threatened by foreigners, and it was
threatened by his own people. It seemed everywhere he went, he faced
opposition or outright persecution. This leads me to ask: what does
it mean to be persecuted or to suffer for the sake of the Gospel in
our modern times? And how, in the face of this, do we give witness
to our faith and hope that is Jesus Christ?
While some more well-known topics may
come to mind, such as Christians kidnapped and imprisoned in Syria,
or the possibility of governments infringing on religious liberty,
let us focus on a few examples that come a bit closer to home.
When the Edmundites first came to
Selma in 1937, they had only a car and less than $100. The two
priests did not know Southern or black culture. They did not know
the political and racial tensions that were so prevalent. And those
tensions showed their teeth. In the 1950s, our brothers woke up one
more to signs posted on various Edmundite properties, bearing the
ominous message, “The KKK is looking at you.” As the Civil
Rights Movement progressed, Fr. Maurice Ouellet came to be known as a
man so committed to the African-Americans of Selma and sharing the
Catholic faith with them, that he would eventually be on the Klan's
list of people they most wanted dead. And just a few years ago, Fr.
Michael Jacques fought alongside city officials to shutdown a
nightclub where shootings and murders were consistently plaguing
their New Orleans neighborhood. When the club was finally closed,
the owner's lawyer begrudgingly claimed it was something that would
“make the priest happy.”
“If you aren't ticking someone off,
you probably aren't doing the right thing.” This is not to say
that we should go out of our way to annoy people—to drive our
family members crazy, to badger our neighbors. But it serves to
remind us of how being a disciple of Jesus, living as he lived, and
loving as he loved, will inevitably stir up the pot a bit.
St. Paul concludes today's reading by
saying that he will only boast of one thing: that which shows his
weakness. This is odd. Why would anyone, never mind the greatest of
all missionaries, choose to proclaim those things that reveal one's
weakness? For it is in our weakness, our frailty, our suffering,
that God's strength reaches its fullness. It is not our possessions
that save us. It is not the money or power we gather that will save
us. It is Christ alone, taking on frail human flesh, who saves us;
Christ alone, hanging broken on a tree, who is our strength.
As we celebrate this Eucharist, let us
ask ourselves how we can better make Christ our heart's treasure, so
that we may have the strength and courage to bring his love to all we
meet this day.
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Last Fall a good friend asked me what I most looked forward to in my future ministry. My response was, "Preaching. The Edmundite charism, as defined in our constitutions, is to work for the glory of God and the salvation of neighbor through preaching. It is such a unique opportunity to speak to peoples' hearts about the faith, hope, and love we share in Christ." But the real challenge is to live our lives in ways that reflect what we proclaim, less end up blowing a whole bunch of rhetorical hot air.
My question for myself and for all who read this blog: are we giving such witness to the life, death, and resurrection of Christ that it is causing a stir in the lives of those around us and in our own?
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