How the West Was Won - Homily for the 22nd Sunday in OT (A, 2020)

Today’s homily comes with a warning label: it will be a little more heady than usual. I hope you find it edifying and timely. 

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You, as an American, having come from our mostly Judeo-Christian background, and Greek and Roman ideals of government and thought at that—you think differently and value different things than, say, a person living in Iran or Russia or China. To some degree, you are a product of and part of Western Civilization and are different than Eastern Civilizations. As such, you have been taught and naturally tend to collaborate, to cooperate, to compromise. You are more apt to pluralism and to tolerance and, as a fruit of that, to enjoy a public square that is open to the discussion of varying ideas and even opposite opinions—although, this part of our Western civilization is quickly closing. 

Indeed, in that public square, our Western civilization sometimes encounters ideologies that are totally opposed to that civilization—for example: anarchists who oppose foundational building blocks of civilization that are called laws or Marxists who oppose another societal building block which we call personal liberty. Yes, in the public square, we sometimes encounter ideologies that are impossible to compromise with. 

And we are faced with a very difficult question: what do we do then? This is the question our culture at large is facing, whether it knows it or not. 

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Before the Second World War, in the European Theater, Western Civilization was confronted with Adolf Hitler. (As an aside: in our 21^st century, the name, Hitler, and the label “fascist” are thrown around rather indiscriminately and have, in many ways, become empty caricatures of their very real evils and the novelty of that evil at that time). But in the late 1930s, the British Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain, thought he could talk some sense into Hitler. Chamberlain had no idea of what we know today. Indeed, when he had met with Hitler in September, 1938, Chamberlain believed that Hitler could be appeased. He thought that Hitler didn’t really actually believe those bad things he said about Europe. He didn’t really want to conquer the Anglo world. Hitler, like the Marxists and communists, Chamberlain thought, simply wanted economic betterment. And so, he thought their so-called evils could be avoided by negotiation and compromise. This is what Chamberlain did and he came home to England, celebrating the Munich Agreement, literally telling the British people, even, to “go home and get a nice quiet sleep.” One year later, Germany would invade Poland and, a few months after that, Chamberlain’s own Britain. 

This same dynamic is occurring today. 

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In an effort to understand better this dynamic, I sought an objective, outsider’s perspective. I believe I found such an objective look in an interview given by Ayaan Hirsi Ali. Ali is a woman of the East, a Somalian immigrant to the United States, and has had endured the scourge of political Islam. After coming to the US, she has become a fellow at Harvard’s Kennedy School. During an interview with a Stanford think tank, she made the following observation about us in the West. She notes: 

        

[T]hose to whom freedom came late [like the Polish after the fall of the Soviet Union]—those are the ones who are willing to fight…. For them, it is not some vague story in history, they still know what it was like to be … behind that Iron Curtain. To have no freedom. They know what a totalitarian ideology is. They recognize it and they are willing to fight for the core principles of freedom.… Northern Europeans, to some degree Americans, who have been free for so long, they don’t know what freedom is anymore, they are the ones who are… wringing their hands and thinking… “what is western civilization? Is it white supremicism?” And if our elites… cannot tell the difference between white nationalism and western civilization… then we are in big trouble. 

The interviewer quoted a speech by one of our Presidents during his visit in Poland. That President said: 

The fundamental question of our time is whether the West has the will to survive. Do we have the confidence in our values to defend them at any cost? … Do we have the desire and the courage to preserve our civilization in the face of those who would subvert and destroy it?” 

The interviewer then asked Ali: “Is that the fundamental question?” 

“Yes,” she said, whether we have the will to survive, “that is the fundamental question.” 

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The error in our current day, then, is to think that, after WWII, we would never have to go to fight for our civilization again. 

CS Lewis, in his book, “That Hideous Strength,” outlined how, in the years after World War Two, the populace would become duped and even welcoming of such evils and would fail to fight against them. He notes with special and truly incredible foresight the following steps. He notes, first, that there will exist a comfort culture that enjoys a false sense of security; then there is a loss of journalistic inquiry and integrity; this will be accompanied by the use of celebrities as a means of persuasion and to cover for ignorance; there would be a doing away with the police force; and there would arise a tribalism of Left and Right political movements; and then, finally, a loss of the plot itself. Sound familiar? He wrote that nearly eighty years ago. 

The last step, the “loss of the plot”—what does this mean? It means to forget the real sources of evil and how we are all of us—left and right, American citizen and immigrant, black and white, Catholic and Protestant, West and East even—we are all in a raging battle against Satan himself. 

Precisely because we have been conditioned to collaboration and cooperation and tolerance, our Western sensibilities often balk against such a fine point and we wonder whether intolerance is ever a holy—or even approved—action. 

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Indeed, that’s the heart of Peter’s argument with Jesus. Peter, in his rebuke, voiced a very Western thought, that somehow evil could be conquered without the Cross. To this, Jesus responds in what is quite possibly his harshest and most intolerant rebuke: “Get behind me, Satan.” 

Now, Jesus loves Peter. Thoroughly loves him. He gives Peter the keys to the kingdom. But Jesus says what he does to alert Peter about the gravity of the situation. And the gravity is that Peter’s ideology is totally incompatible with Jesus. In other words: there is no compromise, Peter. The Cross is it. If you do not have The Cross as your foundation of life and as your focus and priority and meaning for everything you do—if rather comfort and appeasement is your thing, then you are playing for the other team. And so: “Get behind me, Satan.” 

Paul, in a little softer language says, “I urge you… do not conform yourselves to this age, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind…” 

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Such a transformation embraces the Cross of seeking the Truth and the facts and which demands such, and not echo-chamber narratives from your preferred sources of information. 

Such a transformation carries the Cross of calling our leaders—especially our leaders who claim themselves to be Catholic—to condemn without qualification riotous Marxists and Anarchists and those who undermine the dignity of this land’s laws and her people—including the unborn, the elderly, and the poor. 

Such a transformation would not be content with the phrase “systemic racism” and would even question its validity and its usefulness. It would carry the Cross of investigating the motives that drive anger and would remind the culture to seek real solutions to black-on-black crime, drug culture, absentee fathers, and the destruction of the family. 

True transformation is not content with virtue signaling, but with the real carrying of the Cross even unto the point of unpopularity in our Western World. Virtue signaling is simply appeasement to the mob. Carrying the Cross, however, means to stand in such a way as to voice intolerance of evil and therefore face the ugly titles that come with it, even though we love the West and are standing up for her and fighting the evils that threaten to destroy her. 

Yes, to be a Christian means to have somewhere in our souls Jesus’ own words. And while those words are always “love your neighbor” and “do good to your enemies,” sometimes those words are also “Get behind me, Satan.” They shock our Western sensibilities. But nevertheless we are to have them and say them when we are tempted from within and as a society from without. 

That is the Cross. This is the power of God and the wisdom of God and the victory over evil. And the one who claims the victory brooks no compromise. 

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

The Exception - Homily for the 20th Sunday in OT (A, 2020)

A favor. A pulling aside of the velvet rope. Entry into a place where you would typically have no business entering. Being given an… exception. 

I was in the sacristy at Saint Peter’s Basilica in Rome. Two of my brother priests and I were on a kind of pilgrimage, offering Holy Masses throughout the city and the country, really, and at various significant places: the altar at Saint Catherine of Siena’s house; the Portiuncula in Assisi; Padre Pio’s parish in San Giovanni Rotundo. And on this day we were at Saint Peter’s. And we had made a request of a friend of ours—requested a favor, really—to be able to offer Holy Mass where I would typically have no business entering: at the very tomb of Saint Peter.

My brother and his wife were with me and I remember us passing a security guard and then the velvet rope and then the stairwell downward into the crypt. An exception had been given to us. And, because of that exception, that favor, I got to offer Holy Mass in one of the most beautiful and memorable places on earth. 

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At the heart of the readings today is this reality of the exception. The favor. 

Exceptions and favors are wonderful—unless we presume them. At that point, we lose the sense of the greatness of the exception.

So, for example, when we approach Jesus in prayer, we simply presume that He is going to give us what we ask. While this is good (we should have great confidence in our Lord), the temptation is that we turn Him into our slave—like a candy machine that gives so long as we have paid—instead of remembering that He is also our Master. He doesn't have to do what we ask.

We can also lose the reality of a favor when we think there was no plan at all.

So, for example, it is easy to believe that Jesus is purely reactionary. What I mean is: we think that He only responds to our prayers and that He really doesn’t have a proactive plan. But Jesus is and indeed calls Himself “the Way”; He says He comes to fulfill the Father’s plan.

When we lose that sense that God actually has a plan and that Jesus doesn't have to answer in the way we want and that, when He does, He is extending mercy-- when we lose that, it is easy to lose the sense of gratitude that comes with knowing an exception was given to us.

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Here we can discuss the odd reaction Jesus gives to the Canaanite woman. 

She has asked Him to help her daughter who is possessed by a demon. And the odd thing is that Jesus says nothing. Why? Why is He being rude—or so it seems? 

At the heart of the Father’s plan is the salvation of His Chosen People, the Israelites, the Jews. This is the mission that Jesus is given: “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” In other words, “I wasn’t sent to help that woman. It’s outside the Father’s plan. The Father's plan is to save the Children of Israel first. That's the order of things. So, I’m neither her master nor her slave." Hence, silence. 

Despite this, the woman draws closer and says, “Lord, help me.” 

In a word, the woman understands, by Jesus’ silence, that her request is outside the bounds. She is literally asking for an exception. 

To this, Jesus responds in a way that seems even more rude: “It is not right to take the food of the children and throw it to the dogs.” Did He just call her a dog? 

Here, a little history serves us well. 

At this time, there were two kinds of people in the world: Jews and Gentiles. Jews were the Chosen People and the Gentiles were seen as everyone else. The Jews were the Children of God, the Chosen, the Light—and the Gentiles were not (or so it seemed). As a result, there was a condescension: some of the Jews looked upon the Gentiles as dogs. The Canaanite woman is not a Jew; she's a Gentile.

So, when Jesus says “… and throw it to the dogs,” it appears as though He is continuing the Jews’ way of thinking. 

He’s not. 

On the one hand, He is alerting the woman that she is correct: she is asking for an exception and, for Him to grant it would be seen in the eyes of those around them (there was a group of Jews there)—it would be seen in their eyes as wasting food on dogs. “You are correct, Woman. You are asking for an exception.” 

But on the other hand, Jesus is also alerting the onlookers that, yes, to reach out to her would scandalize them: “I understand that you look upon her like a dog.” 

Why does He alert them like this? Because He is going to make the exception. 

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In the first reading, you heard from Isaiah. And in the prophecy it says that “foreigners... [will] join themselves to the Lord”—foreigners were Gentiles—and that “I [the Lord] will bring them to my holy mountain… for my house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples.” 

In the prophecy, Isaiah is saying that God has a plan for the Gentiles. And this plan, in the time of Jesus, had been forgotten. 

For example, in the Holy Temple in Jerusalem, there were several gathering areas for prayer, like extended courtyards. The outer courtyard of the Temple, for example, was in Jesus’ day famous for gatherings of money changers and their tables and the selling of animals for sacrifice. When Jesus enters into the Temple, you recall that he makes a whip of cords and drives out all of the money changers and flips over their tables while saying: my house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples. 

Do you know what that outer courtyard was called? It was called the Court of the Gentiles. 

It was the part of the Temple that was made especially for the Gentiles. 

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 And so, when Jesus says what He does to the woman, He is alerting her to the very real fact that, if He does this healing for her, it will mean more than just a healing of her daughter. It will mean involving her in a greater plan than herself: she will become a reminder to the Jewish people about God’s plan for the Gentiles; the healing will become the beginning of the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy; it will inaugurate the restoration of God’s plan for the Gentiles; and it will involve her in a greater conflict. This isn’t just about healing her daughter. 

To this, she responds with great respect for Jesus, with deference to the Jewish people, and with self-deprecation: “… even the dogs eat the scraps that fall from their master’s table.”

 It is the feminine complement to the centurion’s “Lord, I am not worthy….” 

And her reward is not only the healing of her daughter and the praise of the master, but even the reception of the archetypal name given to Mary, “O woman.” 

The exception is granted. And it becomes the rule.

Indeed, the Church that Jesus Himself established on this earth is called Catholic—meaning "universal"—precisely because She is a Mother who embraces all Jews and Gentiles, "all peoples," in all places, and in all times. 

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So…. What does this mean for us? 

Unless you were born of Jewish parents, you are Gentiles. You are able to enter the Father’s House because that exception has been granted to you. As Paul, the “apostle to the Gentiles,” says in the second reading today: “… you once disobeyed God but have now received mercy because of their disobedience”— 

Who is he talking about there? The Chosen People, the Israelites. Because they had rejected Jesus, the Gentiles were invited in. 

You are here because God wants you, He has chosen you, but it started out as the exception. 

And why does God allow this exception? 

So that “by virtue of the mercy shown to you, they too may receive mercy.” 

In other words, when we—when that woman—realize the great generosity of God; when we realize that He didn’t have to extend His gifts and His call (which are “irrevocable”); when we realize that the velvet rope has been pulled back and we are granted access into places that we have had no right to claim as our own nor to enter on our own accord—the Holiest of Holies being communion with the very Son of God, Jesus Christ, in the Eucharist— 

When we, like that woman, see that this was an exception and not something that should be presumed, we start approaching the Father’s House and these Sacred Mysteries and even heaven itself with a greater humility, a greater appreciation of the generosity, and thus with a greater joy at having been so called. It will necessarily lead to a proclamation to others about Him who has been so good to me. 

I am here today, about to receive Jesus and His many gifts, because He has made the exception for me. Because He wanted me. 

Sit with that for a while and I promise you will be changed. 

In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.