Caught

A homily for the Third Sunday in Ordinary Time, January 21, 2024

Jon 3:1-5, 10, 1 Cor 7:29-31, Mk 1:14-20

In a “Hägar the Horrible” comic strip, the red-bearded Viking’s son, Hamlet, asks Hägar if he has any words to live by. Yes, his father replies, there are three things to always remember.

“Never apologize.”

“Never explain.” 

Then Hägar pauses and leans closer to Hamlet, who asks, “What’s the third?”

“Don’t get caught!”

Or, to put it a bit more seriously, it’s been said — wisely — that the measure of a person’s character is what they do when nobody is looking.

When they won’t get caught.

Being caught misbehaving, being caught breaking the rules of God or humankind usually leads to punishment. No normal person wants to suffer punishment. 

Which is why I don’t take a lot of direct inspiration from today’s reading from the Book of Jonah. 

Jonah crosses the metropolis of Nineveh like every sidewalk prophet on the streets of New York who carries a sandwich board proclaiming The End Is Near. Unlike today’s urbanites who scoff at the street-corner doomsayers, the Ninevites heeded Jonah, cleaned up their acts and staved off God’s wrath for their transgressions.

But first, the Ninevites got caught.

And I believe it was only because the Ninevites and people like them — like us — have been caught in sins that they atone. It’s only because some sorts of people are caught that they apologize, try to undo the damage they did — if possible — and pledge to sin no more … a promise that human frailty often shatters.

Our civil society, in which people are too often uncivil toward each other, relies on some sharp norms: crime and punishment; carrot and stick; harsh penalties intended as deterrents.

Do exactly as we say and we’ll pat you on the head like a Labrador retriever. Good boy! Disobey this law and you’re checking in to The Graybar Hotel. Or worse.

What was that saying about the measure of a person’s character?

Doing the right thing for instant gratification is an immature way of living. Doing the right thing because there are dire consequences for doing the wrong thing is an immature way of living.

We expect 2- and 3-year-olds to defy their parents and caregivers and educators, and we understand that a timeout or a visit to the corner of the room is what they understand. And then they’re all weepy and sorry and they’ll never do whatever they did ever again and (sob!) and (sob!) and (sniffle!) and (catches their breath…).

People ages 13 to 83 shouldn’t live in the world of “No!” and “Why?” anymore. They know better, or at least they should.

So let’s draw an inverse inspiration from Jonah’s “Be good or else” campaign. Instead of dwelling of the Thou Shalt Nots, as clearly defined as they are, let’s look forward, let’s extrapolate, let’s look for the meaning and spirit of the law that underlies the letter.

Let’s find what forges good character. The mission of our Messiah comes to mind.

Jesus brought his Law of Love and his Light of Wisdom for all of us, every woman, man and child who ever lived, who lives today or who will ever live. We have Christ’s Light and Law of Love to give us the spiritual and, yes, emotional maturity to do what is right because it is right. 

Simply because it is right.

To love God and love our neighbors as ourselves, and act accordingly.

It doesn’t get any simpler than that.

As young people prepare for the sacrament of Confirmation, they learn about the seven Gifts of the Holy Spirit: wisdom, understanding, counsel, fortitude, knowledge, piety, and awe of God. The sacrament itself is often viewed as a sign of spiritual growth and maturity, so it’s no wonder that these gifts fortify what we recognize as a person’s good character. 

Love.

Light.

Did I mention Love?

Now, to be clear, even those pilgrims among us known for their exemplary characters will stumble occasionally. Their maturity — imbued with the grace of God — empowers them to get up, dust off, apologize, clean up their mess, and follow their North Star again. 

They’re heading toward something greater than themselves, not fleeing capture, not running away from a jailer or a hangman.

They’re heading toward God’s loving and forgiving arms. As we all should be.