Homilies & Thoughts

People struggle with the line in today’s Gospel about hating father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, and even our own life. Without that, Jesus says, we cannot be his disciples. And he does use the word for hate. This is not a translation issue. He uses the proper term.

But I think the key lies in that phrase, “hate his own life.” If we take “hate” in its ordinary sense, then his commandment to “love your neighbor as yourself” becomes incoherent. If I hate myself, then I get to hate my neighbor. That undermines the point of what he is saying.

I read a story about our patron saint the other day, Saint Alphonsus. There was a religious sister whom everyone thought was holy. When she died, Saint Alphonsus received a vision of her and saw that she was in hell. And so he asked, “How could this be?”

Through the grace of that vision, he was shown her history. Yes, she did many of the things that make one look holy. She spent time in prayer and engaged in service. She did all the things one would expect, and so everyone thought she was a very holy woman.

Our lives are determined by our choices. The same situation can turn out very differently simply because of how we choose to respond.

Notice what happens in the Gospel. Both groups, the sheep and the goats, were placed in the same situations. They encountered the hungry, the stranger, the imprisoned—people in need. But one group chose to respond in charity. They didn’t recognize that Christ was present. They were just as surprised by the outcome as the goats were. Yet they chose to act in charity, and it changed everything. The other group did not. So one goes off to the reward of life, and the other to punishment. The difference lies in the choices they made.

We all know that certain saints are patrons of particular professions or situations. If you lose your keys, you pray to Saint Anthony of Padua. He helps us find lost things. We may have other saints we turn to as well, whose patronage comes to us through tradition or an official decree. But some of the things our saints are patrons of may surprise us.

According to tradition, Saint Lawrence was martyred on a large iron grill. His torturers placed it over a fire and laid him upon it. At some point, the story goes, Lawrence said, “I think you can turn me over. I’m done on this side.” So, of course, the Church makes him the patron saint of chefs.

Our translator here writes, “They were observing him carefully.” But the word used here really means that they were observing him with suspicion. They watched closely to see whether he would make a mistake or do something wrong.

It is important that we hear it that way because, fundamentally, this Gospel contrasts two different gazes. There is the gaze of the crowd, which is one of suspicion. And then there is the gaze of Christ, which seems to be the gaze of a father looking at his son. That is, in a sense, how he speaks of this man with dropsy: who of you would not rescue your child if he fell into a pit, even on the Sabbath? Christ looks at him like a son. And these ways of gazing affect the outcome.

We are to love God and love our neighbor. Yet we use this word love in so many different ways. If we are to understand what the Lord commands, then we have to understand what real love looks like. And our truest teacher is God himself. So let us look at how God loves.

He created us in paradise and gave us a single command. We broke it. Yet even when he cast us out of that earthly paradise, he did not abandon our first parents. He gave them a promise: he would restore us and raise us up.

The Lord criticizes the crowds because they know how to read the signs in the weather, but they do not understand the moment in which they are standing. God himself, the Messiah they claim to have longed for, is now in their midst, and they do not recognize him. Their minds are consumed by natural things that matter to them. Whether it will rain or be hot determines how their day will go, how their crops will fare, and how their animals will be. These are the things that occupy their attention.

The Lord says he has come to set the earth on fire. He has come to bring about change in the world through the fire of the Holy Spirit, who should be remaking the world. As Christians, we should have some influence on the world, bringing about the changes Christ asks of us.

And yet, in day-to-day life, it often seems that the world has more influence on us. Think about your own speech throughout the day. Are you more likely to quote a politician, a commentator on the news, someone from the secular world, or Christ himself?

Sometimes we hear this phrase in secular law: “Ignorance of the law is no excuse.” If you break a law, you can still be punished for it, even if you didn’t know it was illegal. That’s a common principle because otherwise anyone could claim ignorance. And proving what somebody knows is truly challenging for us. So we have to have that rule.

But you’ll notice that God deals with us differently. In today’s Gospel, ignorance is, to a degree, an excuse. The servant who knows his master’s will and does not do it is beaten severely. The one who does not know his master’s will, but still does something deserving of a severe beating, is beaten only lightly. Now, both are punished. Neither gets away without consequences. But the punishment is not the same, because God takes account of what the servant knew.

Notice that these servants are both active and passive. They passively sit and wait. They’re not out in the streets looking for their master to come back. They sit at home and wait. But they’re also active because they are ready. They’re dressed, and their lamps are lit. That detail is important because it tells us what the spiritual life should look like. It has both an active and a passive component.

The Pharisees went to entrap Jesus. They disagreed with him, but they did not come to listen. They were not trying to understand what he had to say. They were not even looking for an honest conversation about their disagreement. They had already decided he was wrong. Now they wanted a reason to silence him, a reason to kill him.

And that decision closed them off to the very thing they needed to hear. The Lord gave them an answer worth thinking about, an answer that could have changed their relationship to the systems of power in their world. But they could not receive it. Their minds and hearts were closed because they had come only to trap him.

“There’s nothing concealed that will not be revealed.”

I remember a lesson they taught us in seminary as they prepared us for life as priests: while you have a right to a private life, you do not have a right to a secret life. As people with a public role, we have to remember that distinction. Not everything about our lives needs to be known by everyone, but we cannot build a secret, alternative life.