The Unauthorized Homily

By Bill Dunn

A commentary on the Scripture readings from the Sunday Lectionary

(Scripture readings for Sunday, September 24th: Wisdom 2:12, 17-20; James 3:16-4:3; Mark 9:30-37)

DISCIPLES WERE FAR FROM PERFECT

Living the so-called “good Christian life” is very daunting. The list of demanding biblical instructions is seemingly endless. We are commanded to love our enemies, forgive the unforgivable, pray for those who persecute us, obey our political leaders (ugh, this is a REALLY hard one), turn the other cheek, store up treasure in Heaven rather than here on earth, not worry about material needs, and on and on and on. 

The common theme in all of these difficult instructions is that we are to deny ourselves—forget about being prideful and self-centered—and focus instead on loving God and loving our fellow man.

Talk about a tough task! This behavior is so hard (no, let’s use the correct word: IMPOSSIBLE), it can be very discouraging. Why try to live a good Christian life if we’re guaranteed to fall short of the mark?

This week’s gospel reading offers us some hope. Not the hope that we can somehow achieve perfection in our daily Christian lives, but the hope that comes from realizing that even the most revered saints were sometimes just as boneheaded as we are.

Jesus’ twelve disciples were given the awesome duty of being the founding fathers of our faith. It was their responsibility to write the gospels and spread the Good News. Jesus spent three years training them to be the founders of the Church. He taught them day and night, revealing the true will of God so they could in turn teach the rest of the world.

So you would think these guys were pretty special. You would think that Jesus picked twelve very holy men for this momentous job. You would think these guys were such paragons of righteousness and virtue that if Jesus mentioned just one time that selfishness is bad, they would never again have another prideful thought. Well, if you thought that, you’re wrong!

In this week’s gospel reading, Jesus and the disciples traveled through Galilee to Capernaum. When they arrived, Jesus asked them, “What were you arguing about on the way?” The Bible says, “They remained silent.” (Have you ever done that with your kids? You catch them doing something they ought not, and you casually ask, “What are you doing?” and they just stare at you as if the only language they understand is an obscure dialect of Swahili.)

The disciples responded to Jesus’ question with a deer-in-the-headlights gaze. It’s not that they did not understand the question. They understood all too well. The Bible explains, “They had been discussing among themselves on the way who was the greatest.”

Don’t you just love it? These guys were as shallow and superficial as, well, as I am! I take great comfort in that fact.

At that point in time, the disciples had been with Jesus for many, many months. They had heard his sermons, over and over again, about being humble, about dying to self and living for God, about the need to remove pride from their lives. And yet they got into an argument, within earshot of Jesus, about which of them was the greatest. What a hoot! That would be like the Sisters of Poverty arguing about which one has the largest investment portfolio. It would be like a group of celibate priests arguing about which one gets the most chicks. It would be like politicians arguing about who takes the most bribes (oh wait, they do that already, but they don’t call them “bribes,” they use the phrase “campaign contributions”).

Throughout Scripture—from Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; to Moses, David, and Solomon; right up through the New Testament saints, John and Paul and Andrew and James and my favorite, Fred Flintstone, er, I mean, St. Peter—the heroes of the faith are portrayed as weak and sinful and, well, simply human. Only God is perfect.

This helps us put things into perspective. This helps us understand how we can live the “good Christian life” on daily basis. The goal is not perfection—that is impossible. The goal is to do the best we can as often as we can, knowing that we are certain to fail along the way.

When we realize that we will fail, no matter how good we are and no matter how hard we try, then we can better understand our innate sinfulness, a condition we inherited from our original ancestors, Adam and Eve. When we accept that we are by nature sinful, then we know beyond a doubt that we are in desperate need of a savior.

When we know that we can’t do it on our own, we throw ourselves on the mercy of the Lord, which is the precise message of the Gospel: we don’t save ourselves, God saves us. The only way this wonderful message could resonate around the world for 20 centuries were if God chose a rag-tag band of flawed goofballs to spread the news. He did just that, and as a result, we, another rag-tag band of flawed goofballs, are able to identify with the message and be saved.

©2006