What follows
is cast as a homily for August 8, 2004,
the Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time,
Year C. It is the Sunday the church begins
reading the later chapters of Hebrews (chapters
1 through 10 of Hebrews were read last October
and November). It is the Sunday that comes
between Transfiguration (the previous Friday)
and Assumption (next Sunday). It is also
the Sunday between the anniversary dates
of the atomic bombing of Hiroshima (August
6, 1945) and Nagasaki (August 9, 1945).
A mystagogical preaching this Sunday would
keep all that and more in mind.
Gabe Huck
When we say this morning, as we do every
Sunday, that we believe in one, holy, catholic,
and apostolic church, what does the "holy" mean?
Where is the holiness of the church? What
and when is the holiness of the church? Or
maybe it is not a question of where, of what,
of when, but of who: Who is the holiness of
the church?
Sometimes we pray a shorter form of the creed
and we say: We believe in the holy catholic
church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness
of sins, the resurrection of the body, and
the life everlasting. Again, the "holy"
catholic church, but this time it comes right
before "the communion of saints." Perhaps
if "holy" is a "who" question,
then "the communion of saints" is
part of the answer. Where is the holiness
of the church, what and when is the holiness
of the church? Who is the holiness of the
church?
Every Sunday when that creed is finished
and we have prepared the table, we gather
around it to lift up our hearts and give God
thanks and praise. And the words of that praise
always get around eventually to the "who" of
our "holy." Sunday after Sunday
these words are spoken in our assembly. Sometimes
we are listening, sometimes they sail by.
But listen now to several ways that our different
eucharistic prayers talk about this "who" of
the "holy." If we want to know
what the "communion of saints" means,
listen well. Here is the first example:
Make us worthy
to share eternal life with Mary, the virgin
Mother of God,
with the apostles and with all the saints
who have done your will throughout the ages.
May we praise you in union with them, and
give you glory.
Don't let such words wash harmlessly
over us. Listen because in reality these words
are the word of our whole assembly. We say: "The
saints who have done your will throughout
the ages." Throughout the ages! That's
with whom we'll praise you, God, and
give you glory.
Another of the prayers at our table puts
it this way:
May [Christ]
make us an everlasting gift to you
and enable
us to share in the inheritance of your saints,
with Mary,
the virgin mother of God;
with the
apostles, the martyrs, Saints N and N, and
all your saints,
on whose
constant intercession we rely for help.
Listen:
"Enable us to share in the inheritance
of your saints." Are we sure that's
what we want? Don't be too quick to
make it all sugar and sweetness.
And another of our eucharistic prayers has
us say:
Help us
to work together for the coming of your kingdom,
until at
last we stand in your presence to share the
life of the saints,
in the company
of the Virgin Mary and the apostles
and of our
departed brothers and sisters
whom we
commend to your mercy.
Listen to that: work together, we work together
for God's kingdom come, for then we'll
be standing with Mary and the saints.
Until 1970, the eucharistic prayer we used
every Sunday was full of the actual names
of saints. Some will remember lists like this
one: Peter and Paul, Andrew, James, John,
Thomas, James, Philip, Bartholomew, Matthew,
Simon and June, Linus, Cletus, Clement, Sixtus,
Cornelius, Cyprian, Lawrence, Chrysogonus,
John and Paul, Cosmas and Damian. Good list
except for three things: first, only Jews
and Romans and Greeks made the list; second,
nobody from the last eighteen centuries; third,
no women. Not very "catholic." But
fortunately that same eucharistic prayer has
yet another list: John the Baptist, Stephen,
Matthias, Barnabas, Ignatius, Alexander, Marcellinus,
Peter, Felicity, Perpetua, Agatha, Lucy, Agnes,
Cecilia, Anastasia. At least we name a few
women and a few Africans.
And here is a last example from our eucharistic
prayers:
You have
gathered us here around the table of your
Son,
in fellowship
with the Virgin Mary, Mother of God, and all
the saints.
In that
new world where the fullness of your peace
will be revealed,
gather people
of every race, language, and way of life
to share
in the one eternal banquet with Jesus Christ
the Lord.
Here the emphasis is right here at the table
that is surrounded by saints past and by us
and so may it be until the new world is revealed
where peace will overflow and God will gather - who?
People of every race, every language, every
way of life! But how could that be? Every
race? Fine. Every language? Of course. But "every
way of life"? Think about it: Why would
God let people of "every way of life" into
our cozy communion? Sounds risky, but maybe
we don't yet get just where the holiness
comes from.
We never, never, never gather at our table
then without words to remind us of this communion,
this community, this commonwealth of the holy
ones. It is an amazing juxtaposing of the
past times when these ancestors of ours lived,
with the present time when we pray to carry
on, and with the future when we'll all
go marching in together.
Next Sunday will be August 15, a day when
in some places and times people celebrated
summer's harvest: the juicy berries
and cherries and leafy plants, the vegetables
just getting ripe on the vines or underground,
the fruit taking shape on the apple trees,
the grains ripe or nearly ripe in the fields.
Catholics came to mark this time of earth's
bounty with the feast of the harvesting home
of Mary, the feast sometimes called the Assumption
and sometimes called the Dormition or the "falling
asleep" of the Mother of God. Mary,
it has seemed to Christians, is the best harvest
earth has to offer, the saint we always call
by name in our eucharistic prayers. Later
in the fall, on November 1, when most harvests
are complete, we celebrate the whole company
of the saints. But in the middle of hot August
we bring into our home the fruits of the early
harvest, grapes and sweet corn and apples
and tomatoes and basil and thyme and juicy
watermelon. Whether we dwell on concrete or
wide-open fields, the fruit of the earth and
the work of human hands is what we await and
savor. Mother Mary, Mother Earth. One reflects
the other. There's a bond there that
is expressed in a prayer for Assumption Day:
God, harvest
of mercy, our hearts exult in you.
In the abundance
of this August,
we see the
mothering of Mary.
Let us know
her in fragrant herbs, in grains and grasses,
in fruit
trees and vines,
in all that
grows wild and all that is cultivated.
The eyes
of all who hunger look to you
and at this
table you provide.
Open now
our hands to share your abundance
until the
day when hunger and thirst are no more.
Within this communion of saints, this harvest
into which we too shall be gathered, call
to mind now today's second reading and
see what wonder it proclaims like the start
of a mighty litany. We heard about Abraham:
"By faith, Abraham obeyed when he was
called to go out . . . not knowing where he
was to go. . . . By faith he sojourned in
the promised land as in a foreign country
. . . By faith he received power to generate,
even though he was past the normal age . .
. By faith Abraham, when put to the test,
offered up Isaac" (Hebrews 11:8, 9,
11, 17).
If we look up that remarkable eleventh chapter
of Hebrews, we find that the author begins
even before Abraham: "By faith Abel
offered to God a sacrifice greater than Cain's
. . . By faith Enoch was taken up so that
he should not see death . . . By faith Noah
. . . built an ark for the salvation of his
household" (11:4, 5, 7). And after Abraham
we hear about the faith of Isaac, Jacob, Joseph,
Moses, the people fleeing Egypt, and Rahab
the prostitute. The writer says: "I
have not time to tell of Gideon, Barak, Samson,
Jephthah, of David and Samuel and the prophets,
who by faith conquered kingdoms, did what
was righteous, obtained the promises; they
closed the mouths of lions, put out raging
fires, escaped the devouring sword; out of
weakness they were made powerful … They
were stoned, sawed in two, put to death at
sword's point; they went about in skins
of sheep or goats, needy, afflicted, tormented.
. . . They wandered about in deserts and on
mountains, and in caves and in crevices in
the earth" (11:32, 33, 34, 37, 38).
So it seems that these
holy ones named around the table are more
the rag-tag dregs-of-society, and not some
respectable, well-ordered choir. Their number
probably includes convicts and some who are
homeless. Also the occupied, the abused, the
spat upon, the welfare folks, the refugees,
the demented, the child-like, the child. And
we must add some other names to that litany
of God's holy ones. Last Friday marked
fifty-nine years since the atomic bomb was
used by the United States on a city full of
civilians, Hiroshima. And fifty-nine years
ago tomorrow, Nagasaki. Hundreds of thousands
died. The safety of the little ones, the weak
ones, always shaky in war time, was violated
on a vast scale. Years ago our American bishops
called on all American Catholics to do penance
for these deeds, but the call was a feeble
whisper, unheard. Perhaps, many savage wars
later, we are nearly ready to hear that summons.
When we think then of
the holy ones, the holy innocent children
especially, we cannot forget the dead of Hiroshima
and Nagasaki. The scripture only knew about
things like stoned to death, sawed in two,
killed by the sword. Such simple times! But
listen to what the scripture says today:
"God is not ashamed to be called their
God, and has prepared a city for them" (Hebrews
11:16). O what a beautiful city that is and
will be! No wonder when we praise God around
this table we always ask, always, always,
to be counted in their number.
Copyright © Gabe
Huck. Used by permission.
Originally
written for Celebration, the worship
and preaching resource of the National Catholic
Reporter (visit their Web site at www.celebrationpublications.org). |