Sunday, September 16, 2018

Mission Possible - Homily for the 24th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year B



          Mission Impossible!  The wildly popular television and movie series follows the exploits of the IMF – the Impossible Missions Force – a small team of secret agents who engage in covert missions against dictators, evil organizations and crime lords.  Interestingly, the IMF’s so-called impossible missions always succeed.  They always turn out to be . . . possible . . . in no small part because of the skill and determination of the IMF agents who are willing to risk life and limb against all odds for the success of the mission.  Jesus calls us to follow him on a Christian mission.  Our readings tell us what we need to do to make his seemingly impossible mission . . . possible. 
    
          In our Gospel reading, Jesus asks his disciples the magic question: “Who do you say that I am?”  Peter correctly answers that Jesus is the Christ, the Messiah, but he’s quickly smacked down when he challenges Jesus’s teaching that the Messiah must suffer, be rejected and killed, and rise on the third day.  “Clearly, Peter attaches significance to the title ‘Messiah’ that excludes suffering.”[1]  That’s not surprising because in Jesus’ time, there were many theories about what the coming of the Messiah would mean.  “Most of them have to do with glory and triumph for the Messiah himself and for all those who follow him.  None of these meanings have to do with rejection, suffering, death, and resurrection.”[2]  But Jesus was clear, he spoke openly that the mission of the Messiah is the mission of the Suffering Servant that we hear about in our first reading and our psalm: it’s the mission of the cross.

          The Christian mission is nothing short of a rescue mission.  “Enemy-occupied territory – that is what the world is.  Christianity is the story of how the rightful king has landed . . . and is calling us all to take part in a great campaign of sabotage.”  Think of it this way: the world is turned upside down by sin, and Jesus came to turn it right-side up.  But the forces of evil don’t understand or accept that Jesus has won; he already conquered sin and death through his own life, death and resurrection.  The forces of evil have lost the war, but they continue to incite battles.  That’s where we come in.  Jesus calls us to fight these battles with him with the full disclosure that ‘[t]he Lord’s rescue mission is a strange one.  Anyone who wishes to be saved must risk the hostility, punishment and humiliation that our rescuer first experienced.”[3]  Our mission, if we choose to accept it, is to deny ourselves, take up our cross, and follow Jesus. 

          What does that mean?  Well, Saint James, in our second reading, makes clear that our faith demands action.  “Faith that is alive needs to demonstrate itself in action – that is the type of faith that saves.”[4]  What kind of action are we talking about?  We have to follow Jesus in word and in deed.  Jesus’ “words were enfleshed in his actions and in his very person.  He forgave sins not only by words of forgiveness but by eating with sinners.  He announced the healing mercy of God by touching lepers. . . .  He challenged preconceived social roles by talking with and loving Samaritans, tax collectors, prostitutes.”[5]  When we follow Jesus, we set our faith in action against evil, not through violence and force, but through love and invitation.  Love conquers all, and the forces of evil can’t tolerate it, so they fight back.  That’s why we suffer when we follow Jesus; that’s why Good Friday precedes Easter Sunday; that’s why the Christian mission includes the cross. 

Let’s face it, when confronted with the possibility of suffering, most of us react just like Peter.  We tuck tail and run.  Who wants to suffer?  Well, God doesn’t want us to suffer either, so we have to remember that God wouldn’t allow suffering to continue if he couldn’t make a greater good come out of it.  The world is full of suffering, and living the Christian mission isn’t easy, especially these days it seems.  We face illness, anxiety, and depression; poverty, violence and war; scandal, silence, and inaction.  The world is strewn with crosses to bear.  If we ignore those crosses, if we avoid the suffering that necessarily accompanies the Christian mission, we reject God’s invitation to make a greater good come out of that suffering through us.  We embrace the Jesus of the miracles but deny the Jesus of the cross.[6]  We think “not as God does, but as human beings do.” (Mark 8: 33) The Christian mission is all or nothing.  It’s the miracles, the healing, the love, and the suffering.  Jesus’ question to Peter – “Who do you say that I am?” – isn’t an opportunity to define Jesus or to shape him into the kind of Messiah we want him to be.  It’s an invitation to contemplate who he really is so we can freely choose to take up our cross and follow him, suffering and all.  

We are God’s secret agents in this world.  Our mission, if we choose to accept it, is to dedicate our skill and determination, to risk life and limb against all odds, in a great campaign of sabotage against the forces of evil.  We undertake this mission at great risk, but where there’s great risk, there’s even greater reward.  If we’re caught or killed, the Lord will acknowledge our actions; he will free our soul from death, our eyes from tears, and our feet from stumbling.  “We will walk before the Lord in the land of the living.”  (Psalm 116: 8-9) Yes, the Christian Mission is difficult, but when we take up our crosses and follow Jesus, we make that seemingly impossible mission, not just possible, but guaranteed.  If it hasn’t already done so, this homily will self-destruct in 5 seconds. 



[1] Pheme Perkins, “The Gospel of Mark,” in The New Interpreter’s Bible, vol. VIII (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1994), 624.
[2] John Shea, The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers, Year B: Eating with the Bridegroom (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 2005), 226.
[3] Michael Simone, “Take Up Your Cross,” America, September 3, 2018, 76.
[4] Patrick J. Hartin, “The Letter of James,” in New Collegeville Bible Commentary: New Testament, ed. Daniel Durkin (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 2009), 776.
[5] Mary Catherine Hilkert, Naming Grace: Preaching and the Sacramental Imagination (New York: The Continuum Publishing Company, 1997), 54.
[6] Perkins, 626.

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