The Flesh and the Rind - Homily for the 17th Sunday in OT (2020, A)

On a hot summer day like this, I occasionally remember playing soccer over at Soccer Park. And I remember my dad bringing to the field orange slices for me and the fellas. At a break during the hot practice, there was nothing better than a juicy orange. Dad cut them into wedges and I’d bite into the flesh of the orange. It would be sweet, refreshing, and its juices would be dripping everywhere. Of course, I would also take the rind of the orange—that hard, outer skin—and put it between my teeth and my lips and make an orange smiley face. What can I say? I was twelve. 

You may be wondering what oranges have to do with today’s reading. Stick with me through one more story. 

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Recently, I finished a book by C.S. Lewis entitled Perelandra. It has become one of my favorite books. (You know C.S. Lewis from the Narnia series or the Screwtape Letters). In this fairy tale for adults, there’s a scene where two men—a bad man and a good man—start talking about really big questions, existential-crisis questions, like: what happens after death? And what is the purpose of this life? 

These were important questions in Lewis' day. He was writing during a dark time not unlike our times.

During the conversation, the two men come to the agreement that life is like an orange—there you go—and, like the orange, life has two parts: the outermost edge (the rind) which is thin and tough and bitter, like the short, bitter years of earthly life; and then there's the innermost fruit (the flesh) which is thick and is like the many, many years of eternity. 

Do you follow me so far? 

Now, here’s the juicy part (… a-hem). 

The two men debate what the inside of the fruit is like—that is, what is eternity like—once you have gotten through the rind of life. The good man says it is sweet: there is an afterlife and there is a heaven. The bad man says that it is rotten and perhaps even empty: there is nothing after life on earth, just death. And ghosts. And no resurrected flesh. Once you have gotten through the rind: nothing.

Here we arrive at a most important question: which one is the Truth? 

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C.S. Lewis will spend the rest of his book, Perelandra, articulating the answer (and if you read it, note the hint he gives with all of the fruit trees in the book). 

But, for those of you who would like to know the answer now, Jesus tells us in the Gospel: Jesus says, “The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure buried in a field, which a person finds and hides again, and out of joy goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.” 

[Stop there for a moment—commercial break. 

There is something very, very important that you need to know when you read Jesus’ parables: they are NOT firstly about what we must do (like, “what’s the moral of the story?”). I mean, they kind of are. But only because the parables tell us firstly about who Jesus is. That’s important. 

So, for example, the Parable of the Good Samaritan, while it exhorts us to be a good Samaritan, is not firstly about us being called to be good Samaritans. It is firstly about who Jesus is: He is The Good Samaritan. Only when we have understood that can we ourselves do the same. 

End of commercial.]

Ok, so when Jesus talks about the buried treasure in the field and the man who sells everything for it, the first take away is not about what we must do; our first take away needs to be about who Jesus is. And who is Jesus? Jesus is the buried treasure. 

Buried treasure? Yes. After all, what happens after Jesus dies? – He is buried. 

Buried treasure. 

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The question is: is the treasure worth selling everything for? Or, to use the orange analogy: after Jesus passes through the bitter rind of death, is the flesh rotten or is it sweet? 

Thomas the Apostle poses that very problem when he says: “I will not believe until I see the wounds in His hands and place my fingers in His sides.” That is: “I’m not gonna sell anything of my life until I know it’s worth buying.” 

Fair enough, Thomas. 

And you know how the story goes. Jesus, on the next week following His Resurrection from the dead, approaches Thomas. And Thomas places his hands in Jesus’ hands and in His side and declares: “My Lord and my God!” Why the exclamation? Because Jesus was gloriously alive. After the bitter rind of death, the flesh was still sweet. Thomas had found, under the rind of life, the buried treasure. 

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Now we can address Jesus’ moral exhortation to “sell everything” so as to buy the field containing this treasure. 

So, practically, what is Jesus asking us to do here? 

In a word, He is asking you to give your life. And He is saying it is worth giving your life. 

It’s why saints—like Francis Assisi—would literally sell everything to go and pursue Jesus. It’s why many Catholics have freely chosen celibacy and poverty and obedience—in religious life or priesthood, for example. Or in married life: the couple freely chooses children even at the sacrifice of personal aspirations. Riches in this bitter rind are nothing in comparison to the riches in eternity. 

King Solomon didn’t want power or riches or vengeance on his enemies. He knew that, if he obtained all of that stuff, great, but it wouldn’t last beyond the seventy years of this life. In fact, some of the power and riches and vengeance would just make more problems—and thus make the rind all the tougher and bitter. 

Instead, King Solomon asks for wisdom, to know what is true and good and everlasting. He wants the sweetness, the thicker flesh of the fruit. He is willing to give his life for that. 

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And here’s the deal (Truth Bomb ™  alert): You are already selling your life for something. 

You are. With each second, each minute that ticks away, you are spending your life, selling it for something. 

The question is: are you selling it for the bitter rind or for the sweet fruit of eternity? 

What Jesus is telling you is that the time in prayer that you spend will be much more worth the time you waste on your phone. The time you spend in study or adoration will be much more profitable than the time you spend worrying about the news. The treasure you freely give away to others will be much more well spent than the treasure you hoard for yourself. 

The clear imbalance of heaven’s worth as vastly superior to the rind of life is what motivated St. John of the Cross and the Carmelites to have a healthy detachment from the things of this world. It’s what motivated the saints to stand up for the faith and for God and for His Church when mobs throughout human history have spat riotous and profaning volleys through the air. It is this most basic principle that has brought joy to those who were given the blessing—blessing—of being martyred. 

And, brothers and sisters, martyrdom—and I mean not a spiritual one, but an actual physical martyrdom—is now very possible in our lifetimes. 

The only way that you would be ready for that is if you start selling your life for Christ. 

You’re already selling it for something.

It’s just: are you buying the tough, bitter rind of thin years of earthly pleasure or are you buying the forever-abiding and sweet, eternal life which is the buried treasure, Jesus Christ?