A homily for the 22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time, 2018
In memory of the late playwright Neil Simon, let’s start with a scene from the TV version of “The Odd Couple.”
Neat-freak Felix is trying – once again – to get sloppy Oscar to get his act together.
Felix says this; Oscar says no. Felix tries a different argument; Oscar, uhn-huh.
Finally, Felix says, “Oscar, this is for your own good!” And Oscar replies, “Every time something was for my own good … none of it was for my own good!”
Sound familiar?
From the time we hit the Terrible Twos, our answer to so many requests – or orders – is No.
No. No way. Unh-huh. Not gonna do it.
Even when we find ourselves in a situation like Jesus’ parable of the two sons whose father asked them to go out in the fields to work, we often do as the son who said yes but never got off the couch.
Most of the time, it’s not laziness. We just have other priorities.
Or, at least, think we do.
Let’s put today’s Scriptures into context with a little background.
For the Israelites, their spiritual leaders also were their civic leaders. Their kings, their prophets spoke on behalf of God, and the laws they enforced upon the tribes came from God.
Many of those laws had to do with the people and their relationship to God: prayer, sacrifice, service. Those laws reinforced Israel’s role as God’s chosen people, a people set apart, a people in covenant with God. Some laws – circumcision, bans on tattoos – specifically marked Israelites, made them stand out among all people.
Even today, our Jewish sisters and brothers abide by those laws as their part in maintaining that covenant with the Almighty. Some, quite strictly.
Other laws, though, were practical. As a nomadic people living in the desert, the Israelites needed guidance to stay healthy and mobile.
We hear from the Book of Deuteronomy today, emphasizing the value of those laws, and reminding the people that laws are a gift from God. In Deuteronomy, many laws are listed, catalog-style.
But even more so, the Book of Leviticus gets into the nitty-gritty. And indeed, it gets pretty gritty.
Stay away from foods such as pork and shellfish. Do not mark your body with tattoos.
While walking, stay hydrated. Avoid donkey dust on the path; wash your hands and feet before eating.
The laws about hygiene and about intimacy between spouses are the nittiest and the grittiest.
Here’s the thing, though: At this point in their immature relationship with God, the Israelites were in a version of their own Terrible Twos. God laid down wise, practical laws, but there wasn’t a lot of backstory, not a lot of reasons associated with them.
God as parent was relying on “Because I said so.” And because God made it clear what the punishment would be for disobedience, his Chosen Ones did as they were told.
And that worked for a couple dozen centuries.
But as any parent knows, after the Terrible Twos of No, No Way, Not Gonna come the Toddling Threes of Why.
Don’t get a tattoo. Why?
Don’t eat pork chops. Why?
Wash your hands before eating. Why?
The asking of Why is a clear sign of a maturing mind and a maturing relationship. One that we see through the ministry and preaching of Christ.
At first blush, a nonstop barrage of Why questions can sound like a nonstop challenge to authority, sort of No No No on steroids.
But it’s not. Properly answered, a Why question leads to someone’s fully embracing the concept, the precept, the law.
Don’t eat pork chops. You could get trichinosis.
Don’t eat shrimp. You may be allergic.
Wash your hands before eating. There are germs in all that dirt.
Wow. Yes. That all makes sense.
A person who asks Why, and then buys into the rightful concept underlying a regulation, is well on the way to developing spiritual intelligence, emotional intelligence, and a strong conscience pointed to the North Star that is God’s wisdom.
A person who asks Why isn’t a Doubting Thomas; that’s a person who wants a deeper, more mature relationship with God and all of God’s plans.
In many, many places, the Catechism of the Catholic Church pleads with us to elevate our consciences beyond blind obedience.
From citations 1787, 1788 and 1790:
[A believer] must always seriously seek what is right and good and discern the will of God expressed in divine law. To this purpose, [this believer] strives to interpret the data of experience and the signs of the times assisted by the virtue of prudence, by the advice of competent people, and by the help of the Holy Spirit and his gifts. A human being must always obey the certain judgment of his [or her] conscience.
This is the relationship with God that Jesus wants us to have. Mature. Discerning. Obeying because we buy in, because we want to, because we see the greater good and not because we’re afraid of a divine spanking.
Jesus says in today’s Gospel:
“Well did Isaiah prophesy about you hypocrites, as it is written:
This people honors me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me; in vain do they worship me, teaching as doctrines human precepts.
You disregard God’s commandment but cling to human tradition.”
The Pharisees had been following the precepts for so long under the Because I Said So policy for so long, they could not feel, perhaps not even find the spirit of the law.
You could argue that they were more like robots or trained seals than people in relationship with their Creator.
We’re not robots.
When Jesus says:
“From within people, from their hearts, come evil thoughts, unchastity, theft, murder, adultery, greed, malice, deceit, licentiousness, envy, blasphemy, arrogance, folly. All these evils come from within and they defile.”
What he’s saying is, these people do not have well-formed consciences, consciences that embrace and internalize the wisdom of the law of love, and thus they’re out of relationship with our Triune God.
What Jesus is saying is, to truly obey the law, we must go where the needy are, those in physical need and those in spiritual need, and be with them. Tend to their needs.
Share the good news with them, even when the events of the day make it difficult for them to have faith. Or for us, even.
We must share a meal with them, dirty hands and all. Share a feast of earthly bread and wine. Share the feast of bread and wine made divine.
It indeed will be for our own good. All of our good.
