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Been here all along..
How many times have you heard today’s Gospel of the landowner who went out to hire laborers for his vineyard? Sometimes the homily focuses on a contrast between God’s generosity and our sense of fairness. Sometimes the theme is ‘it’s never too late’. Both are good insights about the parable. At some level we can all relate to the workers that were there at the crack of dawn and worked all day. It is not just that expectations were raised when they heard that those who had just arrived, had not borne the heat of the day, and received the usual wage for the whole day. But when they realized there was no bonus, I think they wondered if all they did and endured had meaning. There is a lot to ponder.
And that is exactly the purpose of each of Jesus’ parables. They are meant to draw us into the scene, to associate with one of the characters. So… what character might you play in the scene? Are you part of the early morning, up-and-at-’em crew? The 9 am crew? The noon crew? Or maybe the end of the day crew?
And what about the end-of-the-day crew? Day labor was a common way to earn a living wage in 1st century Israel. Depending on the circumstances, it might be the difference between food for the family or not on that particular day. Imagine if that were your situation. You’ve been there all day. No one has hired you and suddenly at day’s end you’re hired. And more than that, you receive a full day’s wage. After a day of anxiety, suddenly there is an unexpected blessing. I hope they paused and gave thanks to God for the fortune and blessing – especially at so late an hour.
ANd what about you? You’re here at Mass. After my six years here, I recognize lots of you as regulars. I know names and faces. I even know your regular pews. You take your faith life seriously. You’ve been coming to Mass all your life. You’ve sacrificed, followed the rules, and served the parish. The same attributes can translate to your place of work, your career, your family of origin.
After the Navy I joined a company that was 1-2 years from startup. It had grown to be a multimillion dollar consulting firm. While most of the work was in the DoD-sector, I was part of a commercial technology group that was growing fast and was very profitable. About six years later a senior executive was hired. Three months later the company was bought in a private equity deal. It was the payday we’d worked for…and the rumors about the new guy swept the company. Rumors had it that he did really well. You can imagine the reaction. He had not borne “the day’s burden and the heat.” A strange combination to be rewarded, “but”… at the same time. All that we did and endured, was it just “business” or did it have meaning?
Imagine you are one of five adult children. You live near your aging parents and are the only one who supports and cares for them. Your siblings live far away, have exciting lives, travel abroad and always promise to help “next time.” And next time never seems to come. Then as the parent’s health begins to seriously fail and the end is near, they all arrive. Your parents are so excited to see them and all the parental attention is focused on them. You love your siblings but you feel shunted aside. All that you did and endured, did it have meaning?
We are like the early worker, the parent, the dutiful child, the parishioner who say they have borne “the day’s burden and the heat.” All of the roles we fulfill in life have the potential to place us right there with the beginning-of-the-day crew.
The readings today ask us to focus on our life outside and inside the Church. The parable is a call to answer, for yourself, the question whether all you’ve done and endured had meaning. It is a question for work, home, family, and your life of faith.
The senior executive made a windfall. But he did not have the shared experience of building the company. He did not enjoy the belonging and fellowship of the team. He went on to another company. So did we, our team went and started a new company and had the great reward of the new endeavor.
The siblings were there at the end and were able to say “goodby”. But they weren’t there for all the intimate moments when parents shared stories of growing up, family, dating, and their life before kids. You heard their dreams and joys. Priceless and filled with all the meaning in the world.
What about faith and Church? Underneath the “started at dawn” workers’ complaint is a question we rarely ask: was being in the vineyard all day really a disadvantage?” Do we believe that spending a lifetime knowing Christ, receiving the Eucharist, experiencing forgiveness, belonging to his people, and having the hope of eternal life was somehow the harder deal? That’s when we need to remind ourselves that it has all been a grace and a privilege to receive: unearned, undeserved, but freely given. It is replete with meaning.
Maybe then we begin to understand what it means to work in the vineyard. The years we have spent following Christ were never wages we earned. They were themselves a gift. The Eucharists we have received, the sins forgiven, the prayers answered, and even the prayers we are still waiting to have answered, the people who have accompanied us in faith, the hope that has carried us through difficult days: all of that, that was the vineyard. It comprises the vineyard.
So when the five-o’clock worker finally arrives, perhaps our response should not be, “Why does he get what I get?” Perhaps it should be, “Thank God he finally made it into the vineyard. And thank God I have been here all along.”
Image credit: Red Vineyards at Arles | Vincent Van Gogh, 1888 | PD from wikiart.org
Intent and Reception
This coming Sunday is the 25th Sunday in Ordinary Time. One of the things to appreciate about the gospels and their content within is to remember that Sacred Scripture is the Word of God, committed to writing under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, using the powers and abilities of people.
“These divinely revealed realities which are contained and presented in sacred Scripture have been committed to writing under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit… they have God as their author…” (Dei Verbum, 11)
“…In composing the sacred books God chose men and while employed by Him they made use of their powers and abilities, so that with Him acting in them and through them, they, as true authors, consigned to writing everything and only those things which He wanted.” (Dei Verbum, 11)
As such, the content of Sacred Scripture will naturally have “levels” of not only author’s intent, but of human reception.
At its initial or basic level, the parable defended Jesus’ missionary methodology of reaching out to extend the blessings of the kingdom to tax collectors and sinners. Whereas his contemporaries believed these to be pariahs with no claim to salvation, Jesus’ words and works indicated that sinners were not only on equal footing with the righteous but were in fact the ones to whom God manifested special love and mercies.
At a second level, the parable, as remembered and preserved by the Matthean community, put forth the message that even gentiles who came “late” to the good news of salvation would enjoy the same benefits and those who were first to hear it viz., the Jews.
At another level, there is meaning based on the sequence of stories/parables/pericopes the evangelist (in this case Matthew) has constructed. This parable is framed by a doublet saying of Jesus concerning the reversal of fortunes (19:30: “But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first;” 20:16: “Thus the last will be first and the first will be last”). As such, the parable offered a lesson in discipleship. Christians are not to concern themselves with recompense for their service in the cause of the kingdom; nor are believers to presume to mete out what others deserve for the services they have rendered. Human standards of fairness have no place in the reign of God. All are abundantly rewarded by God whose only standard is a generous, merciful, forgiving love. If God were fair, in a strictly human sense, I wonder how many of us would enjoy the fullness of the kingdom.
Something else to ponder…
The German theologian, Fr. Karl Rahner has an interesting insight. He suggested that the daily wage or denarius which the owner of the vineyard gave to each hired worker is actually the gift from God of our very selves.
“Our own selves, just as we are: with our life, with our temperament, with our destiny, with our surroundings, with our time, with our heredity, with our family… These things cannot be negotiated or calculated. Whenever we complain about others with whom God has dealt differently, we are really refusing to accept our own selves from the hands of God.
This then becomes our life’s work, to accept the denarius whom we are as God’s generous gift, mysteriously and gradually revealed. This gift is made more precious by the knowledge that when we accept it, God gives himself with his gift. (The Great Church Year, Crossroad Publishing Co. New York: 1994)
Image credit: Laborers in the Vineyard, icon | Public Domain | found on Flickr Fr. Ted
What if?
Note: this homily is for the parish elementary school Mass using Is 46:6 and Matthew 6:25-33
There are two words that have more power than you imagine. These two words can make you nervous, keep you awake at night, and turn a perfectly good day into a day filled with worry. The two words are: “What if?”
What if my friend is mad at me? What if nobody wants to sit with me? What if I don’t get invited? What if I make a mistake and everybody laughs? What if I get in trouble? What if someone in my family gets sick? What if something bad happens? What if…?
Have you ever noticed how quickly one “what if?” can turn into another? “What if this happens? And then what if THAT happens? And then what if THIS happens?” Pretty soon, we are worrying about something that hasn’t even happened. And that is what Jesus is talking about in today’s Gospel when He says: “Do not worry about your life.”
Now, Jesus does not mean that you should never care about anything. He doesn’t mean, “Don’t worry about doing your homework” or “Don’t worry about studying for the test.” Jesus isn’t telling us not to be responsible; Jesus is talking about something different. He is talking about all those things we cannot control: all those “what ifs” that can fill our minds and make us afraid.
Jesus says: Look around you. Look at the birds. They are busy little creatures, building nests, looking for food and taking care of their young. Jesus reminds us the God the Father in heaven knows what they need.
Then Jesus says: Look at the flowers. They don’t spend their day worrying: “What if I’m not the prettiest flower?” or “What if that flower over there is taller than I am?” or “What if nobody notices me?” They simply grow where God has planted them.
And then Jesus asks us a very important question: “Are not you more important than they?” In other words: “If God knows about the birds and the flowers, don’t you think God knows about you?”
Remember the words of the first reading from the prophet Isaiah: “I will carry you.” I love those words. God doesn’t say: “I’ll carry you as long as everything goes perfectly” or “I’ll carry you until you make a mistake” or “…until you have a really bad day.” God simply says: “I will carry you.” Now and “even when you are old and grey”
This is God’s promise: “I have been with you from the beginning. I am with you today. And when you are old and your hair is gray, I will still be with you.”
And that is God’s answer to our “what ifs.” What if tomorrow is difficult? God will be there.
What if I make a mistake? God will be there.
What if my friend lets me down? God will be there.
What if something happens that makes me sad or afraid? God will be there.
Jesus never promises that nothing difficult will happen. He promises that whatever happens, you will not face it alone.”
So the next time those two little words, “what if”, show up, remember today’s Gospel. Do what you can do today. Be kind, responsible, helpful and loving; and let God take care of tomorrow.
So when ‘What if?’ comes into your mind, answer it with three other words: ‘God is here.’”
Amen.
Image credit: Created with Dalle-3 based on the text of the homily. Downloaded 9-15-2026
The Complaints
This coming Sunday is the 25th Sunday in Ordinary Time. The workday is over and wages have been distributed. Not surprisingly, the workers in the vineyard who worked the whole day are less than pleased. Brian Stoffregen describes the three complaints of the first hired:
(1) They assumed they would receive more. The desire for more is usually considered greed, which undoubtedly led them to desire more than they had been promised, but I don’t think their real complaint was as much about the money as the other two listed below.
(2) You have made them equal to us. They assumed a hierarchy based on time worked, which should have been indicated by a difference in wages paid. They make a distinction between “us” and “them” and that “we” are better than “they.” “We” deserve more than “they.” Such a distinction is usually unhealthy for communities of faith.
(3) We have borne the burden of the day and the heat. They do not see their invitation to work (and wages earned) as a sign of grace, but as a burden to be borne. When living the Christian life is seen as a burden, the right perspective is elusive.
Robert Smith (Matthew, Augsburg Commentary) has this wonderful summary: “It is simply a fact that people regularly understand and appreciate God’s strange calculus of grace as applied to themselves but fear and resent seeing it applied to others.” [p. 236] In a similar way, the parable of the unforgiving servant (18:23-35) suggested a great appreciation for God forgiving all of my sins; but a desire that God (and I) should punish all those who had sinned against me.
R.T. France (The Gospel of Matthew, NICNT [748-50]) writes:
“The story is as clear as it is unexpected. Whereas we take it for granted that harder work deserves a greater payment, this employer operates on a less conventional basis. The reader instinctively sympathizes with the aggrieved workers in vv. 11–12: it doesn’t seem fair. The retort of the landowner is of course technically correct: no one has been cheated; the agreement has been scrupulously observed. Why then do we still feel that there is something wrong? Because we cannot detach ourselves from the ruling convention that rewards should be commensurate with the services rendered. When one man is “rewarded” far in excess of what has been earned while another receives only the bare sum agreed, we detect unfair discrimination.”
“But the kingdom of heaven does not operate on the basis of commercial convention. God rules by grace, not by desert. The “rewards” which this gospel has so persistently spoken of (see on 5:3–10, 11–12; 6:1–6, 16–18, 19–21; 10:41–42; 19:27–29) are not earned, nor are they proportionate to human effort. The God who lavishly clothes the flowers and feeds the birds (6:26–29) delights to give his servants far more than they could ever deserve from him. It is that principle, rather than the disappointment of the whole-day laborers, which is the main focus of the parable, but their very natural disappointment and sense of unfairness helps the readers to re-examine how far their reactions are still governed by human ideals of deserving rather than by the uncalculating generosity of the kingdom of heaven. In the kingdom in which the first are last and the last first there is no room for envious comparisons.”
Image credit: Laborers in the Vineyard, icon | Public Domain | found on Flickr Fr. Ted
Caught in the Midst of Assumptions
This coming Sunday is the 25th Sunday in Ordinary Time. The work day is over and now it is time to distribute the wages for all the workers. It is interesting that it is the “manager” or “steward” (epitropos), not the owner, who calls the workers and gives them their pay/reward (misthos). They are the ones who dispense what the owner considers right and just. They are also the ones who take the flak from those who disagree. I think we can all relate to being the one thrust into the middle of something not necessarily of our own making.
The whole problem at the end of the parable is the landowner’s doing. Not because he paid them all the same, but because he paid the last first. This all could have been avoided by paying the first at the beginning so they are not around to see what the last ones are paid. But then this is a parable and Jesus’ intent is likely to let the disciples see what happens when Mt 19:30 is acted out: “But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first.” What happens is the first hired witness the last one’s getting paid, which resulted in the first hires to think that they would get more (v. 10).
The word for “think” (nomizo) does not refer so much to a rational process (as logizomai), but “to assume,” “to presume,” “to suppose,” based on what one expects to happen or what is “customary” or the “rule” (which are meanings for the root nomos). Usually such assumptions are wrong as in its other uses in Mt: 5:17; 10:34.
Image credit: Laborers in the Vineyard, icon | Public Domain | found on Flickr Fr. Ted
The Laborers
This coming Sunday is the 25th Sunday in Ordinary Time. The landowner has “hired” (misthoomai) the workers (ergates), which implies an offer to pay (misthos) them for their work. In contrast, Mt 21:28 has a father telling his son, “Go and work (ergazomai) in the vineyard today,” which may not involve payment for work done. An agreement (symphoneo) is reached between the landowner and the first workers. “I will give you what is just.” (Mt 20:4)
A denarius for one day’s work does not indicate a generous landowner. It was the minimum wage a family in poverty could exist on. This agreement speaks against interpreting this parable primarily as an illustration of God’s generosity. The wages aren’t that great. The workers have barely enough to live on. They remain in poverty, but their needs for this day will be met. Thus it may be better to translate agathos in v. 15 as “good” than as “generous”. It was good for the landowner to give the workers a minimum wage that was enough to live on for the day. It was not a generous wage.
In contrast to the first hired workers where an agreement was made about their wages. The other hired workers are told (v. 4): “I will give you what is just (dikaios which can also be translated, “right” “fair” or “proper”). This parable raises questions like: “What is right?” “What is just?” “What is fair?” God’s answers are not always the same as ours – and we may not always like God’s answers.
Image credit: Laborers in the Vineyard, icon | Public Domain | found on Flickr Fr. Ted
Our Lady of Sorrows
The readings today are from the Memorial of Our Lady of Sorrows which commemorates the Virgin Mary’s suffering during the crucifixion and death of Jesus. Its origins trace back to the 11th–12th centuries, with the Servite Order (founded in 1233) playing a key role in spreading devotion to her sorrows. Celebration of the feast became widespread in the 15th-century, especially in Northern Europe. It spread to Southern Europe and in 1727, Pope Benedict XIII extended it to the entire Latin Church. Today it is celebrated the day after the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross. The devotion centers on Mary’s seven sorrows:
- The Prophecy of Simeon (Luke 2:34–35): when Mary and Joseph presented Jesus at the Temple, Simeon foretold that a sword would pierce her soul.
- The Flight into Egypt (Matthew 2:13–15): Mary and Joseph fled to escape King Herod’s massacre of infants.
- The Loss of the Child Jesus in the Temple (Luke 2:41–50: Mary and Joseph searched for Jesus for three days before finding him teaching in the Temple.
- Meeting Jesus on the Way to Calvary: Mary encountered Jesus carrying the cross, witnessing his suffering.
- Standing at the Foot of the Cross (John 19:25–27): Mary endured the crucifixion of Jesus, witnessing his death.
- The Taking Down of Jesus from the Cross: Mary received the lifeless body of Jesus after his death.
- The Burial of Jesus (John 19:40–42): Mary laid Jesus in the tomb, symbolizing her final sorrow.
“Son though he was, he learned obedience from what he suffered.” (Heb 5:8) Sometimes one’s faithful “yes” to God becomes part of the cross carried by someone who loves me. Jesus’ suffering is not incidental to Jesus’ obedience. To be clear, this does not mean Jesus began disobedient and gradually learned to behave. “Learned obedience” means that the eternal Son lived human obedience experientially, all the way through suffering and death. His obedience was tested and brought to completion in what he endured. Likewise, “made perfect” doesn’t mean morally defective and then improved; the Greek teleiōtheis carries the sense of being brought to completion, accomplishing fully the vocation before him.
And Jesus’ obedience becomes Mary’s sorrow. At the Annunciation, Mary herself says: “May it be done to me according to your word.” (Lk 1:38) Obedience begins the story, but eventually Jesus’ obedience becomes something Mary herself must suffer.
Jesus’ fidelity to the Father has brought him to the Cross. Mary has not done anything wrong. She isn’t suffering because she resisted God’s will. She is suffering, in part, precisely because the Son she loves has obeyed the Father’s will. There is something profoundly human in that. Sometimes doing what God asks of us causes pain. Not only for us, but for people who love us.
A young person answers a vocation to priesthood or religious life, and parents genuinely support the vocation while simultaneously grieving the life they had imagined for their child and the grandchildren they hoped to hold. Someone in the military accepts a deployment because duty requires it; spouse and children bear part of the cost. Someone decides that integrity requires leaving a lucrative but morally compromised position; the entire family absorbs the financial consequences. Someone tells a difficult truth because conscience will no longer permit silence, and a friendship changes.
Obedience has a radius. Our decisions before God rarely affect only ourselves.
We celebrated the Our Lady of Sorrows because she does not let her sorrows obstruct Jesus’ obedience. Mary’s sorrows arise because she loves someone whose life belongs ultimately to God rather than to her.
From the beginning, with the child Jesus lost in the Jerusalem Temple, Mary begins to discover something every Christian parent eventually has to discover in a different way: the child entrusted to me does not ultimately belong to me. Love must eventually allow the beloved to answer God’s call. Even when that answer costs us something.
At the foot of the Cross on Calvary, Mary stands as witness. She doesn’t rescue Jesus from his vocation. She doesn’t demand that he abandon what brought him there. She doesn’t make his suffering about her suffering. She stands.
Sometimes faithfulness means doing. Sometimes faithfulness means enduring. And sometimes love’s most difficult obedience is simply standing beside someone while they obey God in a way we would never have chosen for them. Sometimes love says: “I would not have chosen this for you. I wish I could take it away. But if this is where faithfulness leads you, I will stand beside you.” That is Mary beneath the Cross.
And this is where our two readings converge. Jesus’ obedience says: “I will do the Father’s will, though it costs me.” Mary’s presence says: “I will remain with you, though your obedience costs me.” Neither abandons the other. Neither abandons God.
Our Lady of Sorrows teaches us another kind of obedience. We don’t have to understand everything, pretend it doesn’t hurt or even know how the story will end. Sometimes love simply asks us to do what Mary did. Stand beside the person we love while both of us remain faithful to God.
Image credit: Dossale d’altare con Cristo in Pietà e Santi | Francesco Bini, 1377 | Museo nazionale di San Matteo | PD-US
The Parable of Workers in the Vineyard
This coming Sunday is the 25th Sunday in Ordinary Time. This is a well-known parable in which a landowner goes out to the village to find day laborers. He goes out several times to engage more workers. The parable never says he needed more production, in fact, the landowner’s initial intention is never stated. Nonetheless, more and more workers are added to the labor force. One might hear an echo of Matthew 9:37 – “The harvest is abundant but the laborers are few.”
1 “The kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out at dawn to hire laborers for his vineyard. 2 After agreeing with them for the usual daily wage, he sent them into his vineyard. 3 Going out about nine o‘clock, he saw others standing idle in the marketplace, 4 and he said to them, ‘You too go into my vineyard, and I will give you what is just.’ 5 So they went off. (And) he went out again around noon, and around three o‘clock, and did likewise. 6 Going out about five o‘clock, he found others standing around, and said to them, ‘Why do you stand here idle all day?’ 7 They answered, ‘Because no one has hired us.’ He said to them, ‘You too go into my vineyard.’ 8 When it was evening the owner of the vineyard said to his foreman, ‘Summon the laborers and give them their pay, beginning with the last and ending with the first.’ 9 When those who had started about five o‘clock came, each received the usual daily wage. 10 So when the first came, they thought that they would receive more, but each of them also got the usual wage. 11 And on receiving it they grumbled against the landowner, 12 saying, ‘These last ones worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us, who bore the day’s burden and the heat.’ 13 He said to one of them in reply, ‘My friend, I am not cheating you. Did you not agree with me for the usual daily wage? 14 Take what is yours and go. What if I wish to give this last one the same as you? 15 (Or) am I not free to do as I wish with my own money? Are you envious because I am generous?’ 16 Thus, the last will be first, and the first will be last.”
The parable begins in the familiar world in which day laborers are hired at sunup and are paid at the end of the day, in accordance with Torah regulation and Jewish practice (Lev 19:13; Deut 24:14–15). A denarius was a normal day’s pay for manual laborers hired by the day (cf. Tob 5:15; Ber. Rab. 61), but was barely enough to maintain a family at the subsistence level.
The first-century listener of the parable would begin to immediately notice there are things askew in the telling. Instead of sending his manager, the wealthy landowner himself goes to the market to hire laborers (cf. v. 8). The landowner goes repeatedly, even at “five o’clock” (lit. the “eleventh hour”). We are not told why the landowner is in need of so many workers. No explanation is given as to why those standing idle had not been hired on earlier recruitment visits. We are not told why the last hired workers were idle or why they were not seen standing in the market place earlier in the day. While we may try and fill in the gaps: it was harvest time; they were lazy; they were “hiding,” (note that in v. 6 he “finds” these last workers rather than “sees” them as in v. 3); such embellishments can be fun and fanciful, but they are saying more than the text indicates.
The first group of workers is hired on the basis of an oral contract for the “usual daily wage”; the later groups are promised “what is just,” thus raising, but not answering, the question of what is “just” (dikaios). Although the first group has a “contract” and the second can only trust in the master’s sense of justice, in reality both groups depend on the trustworthiness of the landowner. In the closing scene in which all are paid the same, the middle groups are ignored in order to focus on “first” and “last.”
Image credit: Laborers in the Vineyard, icon | Public Domain | found on Flickr Fr. Ted
The Holy Cross – History and Reflection
The Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, celebrated every year on 14 September, recalls three events: (1) the finding of the True Cross by Saint Helena, (2) the dedication of churches built by Emperor Constantine on the site of the Holy Sepulchre and Mount Calvary, and (3) the restoration of the True Cross to Jerusalem in AD 629 by the Byzantine emperor Heraclius, after it had fallen into the hands of the Persians in the AD 614 conquest of Jerusalem.
The feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross originated in the Church in Jerusalem. From the middle of the fourth century it was celebrated on 13 September, the anniversary of the dedication of the basilica erected on Golgotha under Constantine. According to the account written by a fourth-century pilgrim named Egeria, a relic of our Lord’s Cross had been found on that date a few years earlier. The “exaltation” or “raising up” of the Cross took place on the second day of the octave of the dedication, hence the date of celebration of September 14.
Emperor Constantine appointed his mother Helena the mission to locate the relics of the Christian tradition which she undertook in AD 326–28. According to Eusebius of Caesarea, who records the details of her pilgrimage to Palestine and other eastern provinces, and Socrates Scholasticus, she was responsible for the construction or beautification of the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem, and the Church of Eleona on the Mount of Olives; sites of Christ’s birth and ascension, respectively.
After the 70 AD destruction of Jerusalem by the Roman armies, in 130 AD Emperor Hadrian built a temple to Venus over the supposed site of Jesus’ tomb near Calvary. According to Eusebius, “[t]here was a temple of Venus on the spot. This the queen (Helena) had destroyed.” According to tradition, Helena ordered the temple torn down and, according to the legend that arose at the end of the 4th century, chose a site to begin excavating, which led to the recovery of three different crosses. Around AD 327, Bishop Macarius of Jerusalem ordered the excavations in order to ascertain the location of Calvary as well as that of the Holy Sepulchre. It was in the course of these excavations that the wood of the cross was recovered.
According to the legend, Helena sought solid proof as to which of the three crosses was the Cross of Christ. Helena had a woman who was near death brought from the city. When the woman touched the first and second crosses, her condition did not change, but when she touched the third and final cross she suddenly recovered, and Helena declared the cross with which the woman had been touched to be the True Cross. On the site of discovery, Constantine ordered the building of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Subequently, pieces of the True Cross relic were distributed across the empire and by the turn of the 5th century were venerated as far away as Italy.
In the Roman liturgy the preface of the Mass reminds us that since the tree of Paradise was the place of mankind’s fall, God has wanted the Cross to be the new tree that would save us: “.. so that where death arose, life might again spring forth.” Jesus reminds all of us, ‘And when I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw everyone to myself.’ (Jn 12:32).
Reflection on the Feast by Pope Francis
The cross is a gibbet of death. Yet today we celebrate the exaltation of the cross of Christ, for on its wood Jesus took upon himself all our sin and the evil of our world, and vanquished them by his love. That is why we celebrate today’s Feast. The word of God that we have just heard tells us how, by contrasting serpents that bite with a serpent that saves. Let us reflect on these two images.
First, serpents that bite. These serpents attacked the people who had fallen once more into the sin of speaking against God. Such speaking against God was more than simply grumbling and complaining; on a deeper level, it was a sign that in their hearts the Israelites had lost their trust in him and his promises. As God’s people were making their way through the desert towards the promised land, they grew weary and could no longer endure the journey (cf. Num 21:4). They grew discouraged; they lost hope, and, at a certain point, they even seemed to forget the Lord’s promise. They lacked even the strength to believe that the Lord himself was guiding them towards a land of plenty.
It is no coincidence that, once the people no longer trusted in God, they were bitten by deadly serpents. We are reminded of the first serpent mentioned in the Bible, in the Book of Genesis: the tempter, who poisoned the hearts of Adam and Eve and made them doubt God. The devil, in the form of a serpent, tricked them and sowed seeds of distrust in them, convincing them that God is not good, and is even envious of their freedom and happiness. Now, in the desert, serpents reappear, this time as “fiery serpents” (v. 6). In other words, original sin returns: the Israelites doubt God; they do not trust him; they complain and they rebel against the one who gave them life, and so they meet their death. That is where distrustful hearts end up!
Dear brothers and sisters, this first part of the narrative asks us to examine closely those moments in our own personal and community lives when our trust in the Lord and one another has failed. How often have we grown dry, disheartened and impatient in our own personal deserts, and lost sight of our journey’s goal! Here too, in this vast country, there is a desert. For all its great natural beauty, it can also remind us of the weariness and aridity that we at times bear in our hearts. Moments of fatigue and trial, when we no longer have the strength to look up towards God. Situations in our lives when, as individuals, as Church and as a society, we can be bitten by the serpent of distrust, poisoned by disillusionment and despair, pessimism and resignation, and caught up only with ourselves, lacking all enthusiasm.
Yet this land has experienced other kinds of painful “bites” in its history. I think of the fiery serpents of violence, atheistic persecution and all those troubled times when people’s freedom was threatened and their dignity offended. We do well to keep alive the memory of those sufferings and not forget certain grim moments; otherwise, we can consider them water under the bridge and think that now, once and for all, we are on the right road. No. Peace is never achieved once and for all; like integral development, social justice and the harmonious coexistence of different ethnic groups and religious traditions, it must be achieved anew each day. Commitment is demanded on the part of all if Kazakhstan is to keep growing in “fraternity, dialogue and understanding… building bridges of solidarity and cooperation with other peoples, nations and cultures”. Yet even before that, we need to renew our faith in the Lord: to look upwards, to look to him and to learn from his universal and crucified love.
And so we come to the second image: the serpent that saves. As the people are dying from the fiery serpents, God hears Moses’ prayer of intercession and tells him: “Make a fiery serpent and put it on a pole. If anyone is bitten and looks at it, he shall live” (Num 21:8). And indeed, “if anyone was bitten by a serpent, he looked at the bronze serpent and lived” (v. 9). Yet, we might ask: Why did God not simply destroy those poisonous serpents instead of giving these detailed instructions to Moses? God’s way of acting reveals to us his way of dealing with evil, sin and distrust on the part of humanity. Then, as now, in the great spiritual battle that continues throughout history, God does not destroy the vile and worthless things that men and women choose to pursue. Poisonous serpents do not disappear; they are always there, lying in wait, ever ready to bite. What has changed then, what does God do?
Jesus tells us in the Gospel: “As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life” (Jn 3:14-15). This is the decisive shift: the serpent that saves has now come among us. Jesus, lifted up on the pole of the cross, does not allow the poisonous serpents that attack us to cause our death. Confronting our misery, God gives us a new horizon: if we keep our gaze fixed on Jesus, the sting of evil can no longer prevail over us, for on the cross he took upon himself the venom of sin and death, and crushed their destructive power. That was the Father’s response to the spread of evil in the world: he gave us Jesus, who drew near to us in a way we could never have imagined. “For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin” (2 Cor 5:21). Such is the infinite grandeur of divine mercy: Jesus “became sin” for our sake. Jesus, we could say, on the cross “became a serpent”, so that by gazing upon him we might resist the poisonous bites of the evil serpents that assail us.
Brothers and sisters, this is the path, the path to our salvation, our rebirth and our resurrection: to behold the crucified Jesus. From the heights of the cross, we can view our life and the history of our peoples in a new way. For from the cross of Christ we learn love, not hatred; compassion, not indifference; forgiveness, not vengeance. The outstretched arms of Jesus are the embrace of tender love with which God wishes to embrace us. They show us the fraternal love that we are called to have for one another and for everyone. They show us the way, the Christian way. It is not the way of imposition and force, of power and status; it never brandishes the cross of Christ against our brothers and sisters for whom he gave his life! Jesus’ way, the way of salvation is different: it is the way of a humble gratuitous and universal love, with no “ifs”, “ands” or “buts”
Yes, for on the wood of the cross Christ removed the venom from the serpent of evil. Being a Christian, then, means living without venom: not biting one another, not complaining, blaming and backbiting, not disseminating evil, not polluting the earth with the sin and distrust that comes from the evil one. Brothers and sisters, we have been reborn from the pierced side of the crucified Jesus. May we be free of the poison of death (cf. Wis 1:14), and pray that by God’s grace we can become ever more fully Christian: joyful witnesses of new life, love and peace.
Image credit: Finding of the True Cross, by Agnolo Gaddi (1350-96). Basilica di Santa Croce, Florence, Italy | Public Domain
About Blessings and Radical Grace
This coming Sunday is the 25th Sunday in Ordinary Time. This is the second post of the day. Both posts are about some element of the Kingdom of Heaven. While the earlier post tried to make the point that the “household of God” will not be the same as the households of our own times and cultures. This posts looks at the way we view blessings in our life – or rather what we assume are blessings which can be confused with human success.
Between the two chapters, Jesus begins to address the assumptions about what constitutes God’s blessings. Where “wealth” was seen as an external sign of God’s blessings, Jesus now holds up something different in the telling of the encounter with the rich man (Mt 19:16-26). Long (Matthew, Westminster Bible Companion) writes concerning the rich man story, which also applies to our text: “… we must realize that, when the young man encounters Jesus, two very different worlds collide: this world, with all its prevailing customs and values, and the radical new way of life called for in the kingdom of heaven.” [p. 220]
This radical life comes at a price. Peter understands that and so he asks, “what about us who have already given up everything,” Jesus points to the life within the kingdom and then concludes that the called-for reversal will also be evident in the order of blessing on entering the kingdom: “But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first.” (Mt 19:30)
While the context for the kingdom in Mt 19 is seen “when the Son of Man is seated on his throne of glory,” But it is not just at the end of days. Matthew also grounds the radical reversal of all cultural understandings in the here-and-now. In a time (then and now) when wealth is seen as a measure of blessing, most commentators note the importance of Mt 19:16-30 – the encounter with the Rich Man. In short, when Jesus tells him “If you wish to be perfect, go, sell what you have and give to (the) poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.” The rich man goes away sad.
As that encounter ends, Mt 20:1 begins with the word “for” (gar) which implies a connection to what goes on before. It denotes a reason. Perhaps we could even say that it introduces an answer to the question: Why will many who are first be last and the last first (see 19:30; 20:16)? It may be as simple as the idea of being “paid,” not by what one does – either by doing good deeds or keeping the commandments or working in the vineyard – but by the graciousness of God/landowner.
Both the story of the young man and the parable of the employer picture the triumph of grace. The young man is a fine specimen who “has it all”: youth, money, morality, a sense that there is still something more, an interest in eternal things. Matthew resists the temptation to make the disciples (and his own church) look better by painting the man in dark colors. He was a good, sincere, wealthy young man, and every church would be glad to “get” him. What did he lack? He anticipated being given one more commandment, one final achievement, and then his quest would be fulfilled. Not just the young man, but also the reader is surprised when he is told that he lacks all, that his salvation is impossible. At one level, the story communicates that salvation is not any kind of achievement, that on human terms entering the kingdom is not merely hard, but impossible. It is only when this “no” to all human claims is heard that the “yes” of God can be heard: But for God all things are possible. Binding this pronouncement to the call to discipleship keeps it from being cheap grace.
The rich young man is a picture of the rejection of grace by one who prefers to justify himself. The parable of the landowner and the laborers is a picture of the resentment of grace toward others by those who have worked long and hard themselves.
Image credit: Laborers in the Vineyard, icon | Public Domain | found on Flickr Fr. Ted
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