Corporal Works of Mercy Fall 2023 Homily Series: Sheltering the Homeless

I bet that at least one copy of the Bible may be found in almost every household in the United States and some other countries too. The Bible may be inscribed with gold lettering onto a leather-like cover, with gold leaf adorning the edge of each page or it may be just a very simply produced book. Whatever the format, it’s an outward display of the reverence with which Christians hold what’s inside—God’s very Word. Scripture has authority over all people, but believers are those who freely acknowledge and submit to its authority and try their best to follow its teachings.

Our Catholic faith tells us that the Bible is the inspired Word of God, and as such, it is a Catholic Christian’s ultimate authority. Because it is inspired truth, we search the Scriptures for all wisdom as it teaches us how to live an obedient life in sync with the example of Jesus himself.

Knowing God gave us the Scriptures, we are called to yield to its authority. The Bible’s authority and inerrancy form part of our Christian doctrine, along with our sacred tradition and the teaching of the magisterium. Scripture is how God speaks to us today and in the absence of the physical Jesus, we try our best to obey His commands through it.

The Gospel today seems to suggest that the parable of the two sons is very handy as a moral tale. However, as it is given, Matthew’s Jesus is not just using the parable as a nice moral tale that parents can employ one day to make their kids feel guilty for not taking out the trash or making their beds. Within the context, the parable is about authority and how one ultimately responds to it.

The distinction between the two brothers turns on action versus word. Jesus and his adversaries agree that only one son does the will of the father, the son who says “no,” but goes nonetheless into the vineyard to work. Actions speak louder than words.

Jesus uses this exchange to expose what the leaders of his day really thought about John. The chief priests’ and elders’ failure to believe and respond to John reveals the truth about where they stood, and thus which brother they actually represent.

Jesus’ authority, in contrast, is affirmed by the integrity of his words and actions, as well as by its outcomes: gathering and restoration, healing and cleansing, release from demonic powers, restored sight, table fellowship with sinners, and preservation of the least ones — all examples of the “fruit” of repentance.

Apparently, “believing” entails making a decision about what kind of power is legitimate, Jesus’ power or that of the Judean leaders. Only Jesus manifests a form of power that requires us to change our minds about the source, nature, and fruit of true power.

This weekend we continue our Fall preaching series … the corporal works of mercy and focus on our fourth theme: sheltering the homeless.

We know that the corporal works of mercy are charitable deeds that provide for the bodily needs of others, and standing at the top of the list of critical bodily needs are food and shelter. The fourth corporal work of mercy is to shelter the homeless, also known as to harbor the harborless.

In the Gospel of Matthew 25, it corresponds to, “I was . . . a stranger and you welcomed me”.

A roof over one’s head provides protection from the elements as well as safety and security.

Shelter comes in a wide variety of forms depending upon the time in history and the geographic location: caves, tents, thatched roof huts, igloos, teepees, log cabins, house boats, apartments, barracks, dormitories, shacks with tin roofs and palaces.

It is a terrible problem to be without adequate housing, and one of the most striking examples is the Holy Family. Mary and Joseph could not find shelter when they went to Bethlehem: There was no room for them in the inn. Accorded no mercy, their substandard shelter was a stable or a cave. When they fled to Egypt, again they were without shelter, and it is presumed that through the tender mercy of Jews of the Diaspora, they were given a place to stay. They eventually settled in Nazareth and enjoyed a permanent home.

There are so many in our world who lack adequate housing: victims of disasters, the poor,

the unemployed, the foreclosed, the disabled, military veterans, abuse victims, the mentally challenged and, today, thousands of refugees.

And we know that there are many charitable groups that serve the homeless, even the homeless here in Summit. It is surely a corporal work of mercy to volunteer or offer donations to these organizations and/or to do the person-to-person work.

Feeding the hungry, giving drink to the thirsty, clothing the naked and sheltering the homeless are all works of mercy. Mercy begins at home. It is as simple as parents providing shelter for their own children to welcoming an aging parent or a sick relative into one’s home. Where is mercy in our life? In our home? In our parish? What can we do better?

Our series today asks us several pointed and fundamental questions:

1. Do we accept the authority of the Scriptures? If so, are we compliant with the command of Jesus to give shelter to the homeless?

2. Or are we like the brother, who in response to the Father’s command says “yes” and then does not follow through – just walks away.

Someone once said that the Word of God is not a book of suggestions, it is deliberative and directive code for life. This week we are all challenged to examine our life to see how we are compliant with the Lord’s call to shelter the homeless.

Saint Joseph is the patron of the homeless. Let us call out to him for his intercession to help us this day.

RSM

Corporal Works of Mercy Fall 2023 Homily Series: Clothing the Naked

The corporal work of mercy, to clothe the naked, seems rather straightforward. One would think that it simply means to give clothes to someone who doesn’t have any. While that certainly is an aspect of this work of mercy, it does not paint the whole picture. Jesus challenges us to be much more active than that.

Both Jesus and the Church ask us to “clothe” the naked and not simply drop off our excess wardrobe at a thrift store or the clothing box in the Memorial Hall parking lot, which surely is good to do. God wants us to be active in our works of mercy and to touch the lives of individual people, each in our own way and in the capacity that we all can.

But of course, the hard question is how? We get one insight as we read the Gospel today – in the familiar story of the landowner and the workers.

We are usually tempted to see the landowner in God-like terms because he is powerful, he hires workers all day long and pays them all equally, and he declares his own goodness and justice. We should remember, however, that at the end of the day, the workers are all as vulnerable and powerless as they were at the beginning of the day, except that, we will see, they have lost their dignity and probably their unity. The injustices are intensified, not overturned. Day laborers constituted a limitless and disposable fuel — bodies to be burned up — that made the ancient economy run.

Today, our world is again full of such bodies, who make our clothes, produce our food, and assemble our electronic gizmos, yet never gain enough traction to be able to join the world of consumers. There is a fascinating book on the topic entitled The Working Poor: Invisible in America by David K. Shipler if you want to read more on this. Today’s parable thus pulls back the curtain on the ways our own world works, as it would have for Jesus’ audience.

It is true that, at one level, the landowner treats the workers with equality. He goes hunting for workers throughout the day, and they keep showing up until the very end. It is the landowner’s dream market. He pays everyone what they had agreed to be paid and, in the case of those hired at the end, even more than they might have expected.

All this apparent justice is, however, cast into question by the landowner’s actions and words from the point the payments begin to be made. He stipulates that those hired last will be paid first. Why? This arrangement serves no evident purpose but to make his gesture of “equality” evident to those who worked all day. If the goal is really to create equality among the workers, the landowner could do so without making a public display. Apparently, he intends to provoke a reaction.

He uses his interaction with first-hired, last-paid workers to declare his own justness and goodness. After all, he is paying those who worked all day just what they had agreed to be paid. He is also only doing what is his right “with what belongs to me.” The implicit message in these words is that it all belongs to him, including the workers, with whom he can do what he pleases.

He addresses one of them as “friend,” … which sounds nice … but we should hear it pronounced with a sneer. In Matthew, “friend” is consistently employed ironically:

· Matthew 22:12, a king uses it to address a man he is about to have bound hand and foot and booted into outer darkness because he had come improperly dressed to the wedding feast.

· Jesus himself calls Judas “friend” as he comes to betray Jesus in Gethsemane (Matthew 26:50).

The landowner’s apparent graciousness and justice are, in fact, viciousness in disguise — a pretty package with a bomb in it. He has been “generous,” but only with some and in a way that means to incite “envy.” We should hope that this is not the way God acts.

I bet over the years, in homilies and reflections, you have only heard the preacher make this landowner into a God-figure. So often, we think that the power figures — whether kings, landowners, or fathers — represent divine authority. Clearly, in this passage and in so many others, we need to dig deeper. The parable teaches us to read our world critically and to look behind the facades – there is usually more, sometimes much more, to the story.

So back to our theme of clothing the naked … it’s a real call for us NOT to be like the landowner, NOT to presume that everything belongs to us, and NOT to use people for our own advantage. Instead, it begs the opposite.

One of the most famous modern-day examples of someone who “clothed” the naked was Mother Teresa of Calcutta. Each morning she would go out into the streets to find men and women too sick to care for themselves. After carrying them back to the hospice, Mother Teresa would bathe, clothe, and feed them. She believed everyone deserves to be treated with great dignity and actively helped the poor in her community for the rest of her life.

Obviously, not all of us are called to minister to the needs of the homeless in Calcutta. That is why Mother Teresa would often say,

Stay where you are. Find your own Calcutta. Find the sick, the suffering, and the lonely right there where you are — in your own homes and in your own families, in your workplaces, and in your schools. … You can find Calcutta all over the world if you have the eyes to see.

Everywhere, wherever you go, you find people who are unwanted, unloved, uncared for, just rejected by society — completely forgotten, completely left alone.

When we search out the “naked” of our local community, and we do have them here in Summit and our surrounding communities, we shouldn’t only be looking for those without clothes. We should also look for those who are rejected, alone, and forgotten. They, too, are “naked,” without friends or family, stripped of all meaningful human relationships.

There are numerous people in our community, and sometimes even in our own family, who are stripped of everything in their lives. They often feel invisible and think that no one cares about them. It is our duty as Christians to comfort, console, and “clothe” them. We may not have to give them actual clothes, but we certainly can give them our love, time, and presence.

What can you do today? What can we do as a parish? This is not Calcutta, but there is surely a need all around us …

RSM

Corporal Works of Mercy Fall 2023 Homily Series: Refreshing the Thirsty

This weekend we continue our Fall preaching series … the corporal works of

mercy and focus on our second theme: giving drink to the thirsty.

As I walk the Stevens campus, or through our downtown or even the streets of

NYC, I am very conscious of the people who carry their water bottles, sometimes

even gallon jugs. It’s symbolic to me of not only how our bodies need water, but

more deeply of how we thirst.

Because our body is 90% water, some suggest that we need to drink 2.5 - 3 liters

of water per day. I am always behind in this goal! Water is restricted only in

patients with chronic kidney disease and congestive heart failures. And you know

that water helps in maintaining the body temperature, required in metabolism,

flushes body wastes, cushions the brain, spinal cord and other sensitive organs,

helps in maintaining the blood pressure and has many more functions. That’s the

physical … but what about the spiritual, for what do you thirst? Surely, we all

have longings and desires.

And while we don’t usually talk about the things we want in terms of “hunger”

and “thirst,” these words really ring true. Isn’t our aim to be satisfied? We hope

our wishes will be fulfilled so we can find wholeness and completion, and we

believe these things will bring satisfaction.

We hunger and thirst for the things we desire. But the question we all must ask

ourselves is, “What do I hunger and thirst for?”

It is a sad truth that we, as Christians, often hunger and thirst for the same things

the world does: stable incomes, praise from friends and neighbors, beauty,

individuality, and so much more. We can be just as obsessed as our non-believing

peers about holiday décor and the latest fashion trends, what show to watch on

Netflix and even how much we weigh. But when do these things ever satisfy?

The thrill of success never lasts. Money comes and goes. Friends disappoint. Life

circumstances cause our body to change in ways we can’t control. And that one

unique experience is never enough. These pursuits can be maddening and futile,

and they certainly don’t keep us satisfied for very long.

We may think we can find wholeness with the things of this world, but clearly, we

can’t. In the midst of the chaos of our everyday lives, many of us have asked

ourselves at one point or another, “What is the point of all this?”

When the object of our desire is found in this world, our anticipated thrill of

satisfaction can quickly turn to disappointment and maybe even despair.

We are reminded that Jesus hears our cries. He knows our desperation, and one

of his many words of encouragement to us is this: “Blessed are those who hunger

and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.”

In his well-known Sermon on the Mount, Jesus gets straight to the heart of the

matter and addresses our soul. For, ultimately, true and lasting satisfaction is a

spiritual issue, not a physical one. If you feel your life is lacking or incomplete, the

answer is not to bolster your income or start a new diet. The answer, rather, is to

reconsider the state, livelihood, and actions of your faith.

For as we pursue the things of God on this earth, not only will we find the true

and everlasting satisfaction that only Christ can provide, but we also will see that

the wishes and desires of this world will slowly fade away.

And while we cannot get all the virtues of our faith complete in a day, we can ascribe to trying

to perfect some of those virtues one at a time over the course of our lives.

Today, the readings speak to us of forgiveness, kindness, mercy and compassion. Can we think

about and commit to work on some of those? Can we work to satisfy those thirsts?

The first reading, while ancient, is contemporary. Jesus ben Sirach wrote this book of wisdom

about 180 B.C. This book, also known as Ecclesiasticus, was a text for the education of wealthy

young men in Jerusalem. Sirach revealed the tensions in the city: the rifts between rich and

poor, between the local populace and their foreign rulers, between male and female. The reality

of the day made many wonder, How does a righteous Jew live in such a culture of tension? We

may ask a similar question today amid the tensions of our time.

Sirach proposed a simple, but radical solution: forgiveness. There was no way around the gossip,

the backstabbing or the slander. Living inevitably led to hurt. So, the person faced two choices,

react to the sin at the level of sin … or forgive. Become part of the problem … or rise above with

the solution. If the believer wished mercy from God, then he should act as the Lord acted.

The sage reminded his reader and reminds us too that life is short; and the believer should

consider the coming end. That should be motivation enough to set aside enmity and seek the

peace that came from forgiveness. Undoubtedly, we thirst for this peace too!

Life isn't perfect but it can be lived in relative peace, only if the living make it so. Yes, forgiveness

is difficult, but not impossible. And the alternative is much worse.

Perhaps each of us can name one person in our life that we can forgive today. And if we’re not

ready to take that big step, then let’s resolve at least to pray for that person.

In this beautiful season may we start every day with a hunger for God’s Word and may we thirst

to put its lessons into action.

RSM