A homily for the Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, July 4, 2021
Ez 2:2-5, 2 Cor 12:7-10, Mk 6:1-6
In the fall of 1976, as the Jesus Movement — or “Jesus Freak” movement — was winding down, my then-girlfriend and I attended an outdoor concert in New York City. As we exited onto Central Park South in the twilight, she squeezed my arm and said, “I think that man is going to mug us,” motioning to someone shuffling toward me on the left.
For reasons I still don’t completely understand, I pried loose from her and strode briskly toward the suspicious person, reaching into my jacket pocket for the program from the show.
Wild-eyed and staring him in the face, waving the paper, I enthusiastically and energetically said, “Do you know Jesus? Jesus is your personal Lord and Savior! I have a tract right here that…”
He took off like a shot, and I rejoined my friend unmolested.
I’d never before — and I’ve never since — spoken of Jesus that way, and I did ask the Lord’s forgiveness many times for having weaponized his name.
In fact, I’m generally hard-pressed to inject the Son of God into a conversation.
And I find that’s true for many of us.
Talking about the Carpenter is mostly frowned upon at workplaces, except in the break room.
The God of “In God We Trust” is referred to as the civic God, a generic reference to a Higher Power, a Divine Wisdom, an invisible source of life and all good gifts.
“God bless you” after a sneeze — often shortened to “Bless you” — is a reflex action with a hint of caring for the person with the tickled nose.
Yes, very often we hold back on talking about our relationship with our gracious and loving God to avoid imposing, or appearing to impose, our beliefs on someone else.
But aren’t our beliefs worth sharing? Isn’t the story of Salvation worth passing along to someone who might need it?
Didn’t our baptism anoint us priest and prophet?
Aha.
Like Jesus, like the prophets of the First Covenant, we prophets are not always welcome in our hometowns. At least, not in our roles as prophets.
So we don’t evangelize out of concern that we might proselytize. But we should (evangelize, that is; never proselytize).
Let’s kick around the notion of “prophet” for a second or two. Understanding our prophetic duty may make the task a little easier.
As we recall from the annual proclamation of The Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ, Pontius Pilate demands that Jesus prophesy for him. Pilate was expecting some sort of soothsaying or interpretation of dreams like the one his wife had.
And for 2,000 years since, many of us have equated “prophet” with “fortuneteller” or “oracle.”
A prophet, though, is someone who sees and understands with exceptional clarity, owing to a deep relationship with God. A prophet can spot what’s wrong with society and knows how it can be fixed, how society can embrace holiness and God’s peace.
That sounds like us.
Is it any wonder, then, that someone — Jesus, us — who tells a room or town square full of people that they’re just plain wrong is going to get chased away with torches and pitchforks? People absolutely loathe being corrected, especially if what they’re doing or saying or believing is the way they’ve always done it or said it or believed it. The way their parents and grandparents and every ancestor who was listed in their Ancestry DNA test results ever did it or said it or believed it.
Nobody said it would be easy, especially not Jesus.
Prophets spot what’s wrong with society, point out the better way — The Way of Love proclaimed by the Christ — and then call people to action.
So now people have two reasons to dislike prophets: Prophets tell them they’re wrong, and then they tell them to do something about it. Get up. Get off the couch. There are changes to be made. Improvements to be hammered out. Steps to climb to elevate society. There’s hard work waiting to be done.
Is it any wonder, then, that so many of us don’t mention Jesus in casual conversation? We know that any mention of Emmanuel will lead to a more serious chat and then to action.
And the sofa is so comfortable.
Nonetheless, we Christians are called and empowered by our Triune God to find and root out systemic evils. With well-formed consciences shaped by the Spirit, we know evils when we see them as long as we’re looking for them. Phobias and -isms. Shunning of The Other. Inequalities in wealth, rights and dignity as children of God.
Every sort of injustice.
As prophets, we spot ’em. As brothers and sisters in Christ, we fix ’em.
And then, if anyone asks us why we’re saying and doing what we’re saying and doing, then that’s a great time to talk about Jesus. Because then, it won’t seem awkward.
