Sunday, September 16, 2018

Take My Kidney, Pope!! (24th Sunday, Year B)

To listen to this homily, click here.

One of the great theologians of our time is a man named Scott Hahn, who converted to Catholicism after serving as a Presbyterian pastor and professor. Most of you probably know his name and I think the parish has given some of his books as our Christmas and Easter gift. Anyway, in one of his talks he tells the anecdote of Pope John Paul II needing a kidney transplant. There was much concern throughout the Roman Catholic world, knowing that without a donor the Pope would soon die. People spontaneously gathered outside the Pope’s apartment in St. Peter’s Square screaming and waving their hands. The Pope heard all the noise and poked his head out the window. The crowd went nuts and started chanting, ”Take my kidney, Pope, take my kidney!" Well, the Pope didn't know what to do, so an idea popped into his head. He asked everyone to quiet down and he told them he was going to throw down a feather.  Whoever the feather landed on, that would be a sign from the Holy Spirit, that they were meant to be the donor. The Pope then dropped the feather off his balcony and you know what he heard? "Take my kidney, Pope," (trying to blow it away), Take my kidney (trying to blow it away)."

The past two Sundays we have reflected on the wonderful and practical letter of St. James. His words are just as relevant now as they were then as he urges us to care for the afflicted and show no favorites. In other words, don't treat someone differently because they can do something for you. This leads into James’ message for today: if our faith is only words and doesn't have actions to back it up, it is empty and dead. Put another way: we demonstrate our true beliefs and character by how we act. It’s easy to say, “Take my kidney, Pope!” but it is a whole other thing to go through with it. 

Along the same lines, there is a story about Charles Blondin, who was a famous acrobat from France in the 1800’s. He was like the early version of the Flying Wallendas or Evel Knievel with his sensational tricks. Once Blondin gathered a crowd at Niagara Falls. He asked them if they thought he could walk a tightrope stretched across the Falls. The crowd cheered their approval. Then he asked if they believed he could do it blindfolded. Once again a booming cheer. Finally he asked if they believed he could do it pushing a wheelbarrow. The crowd went wild with excitement. Blondin then approached a man cheering loudest. "Do you really believe I can do it?" "Of course," the man said. "Then," said Blondin, "Will you get in the wheelbarrow?”
Take these stories and consider them in relation to your friendship with Jesus Christ and His Bride, the Catholic Church. I think most of us would profess loudly and confidently that we believe Jesus is God. In fact we will do exactly that after the homily as we say the Creed together. We believe he can do anything. Still, aren’t we a little, or even a lot, reluctant to get into that wheelbarrow. It's one thing to believe, to profess with our words; it's a whole other thing to put it all on the line, whether that be our body, soul, future, finances, reputation, or whatever else. The wheelbarrow represents the Church. I admit that wheelbarrow looks pretty rusty and beat up right now after some of the shameful scandals and poor leadership exposed by the Grand Jury report in Pennsylvania. With all that, I am grateful we have people brave enough to get into the wheelbarrow and let Jesus lead them. Those who keep coming to Mass, who keep praying to God in their hearts, who keep ministering to others in his Name, even when the world calls for us let go of our faith and our Church. It’s in these dark and painful moments of crisis where we learn what it means to live our faith beyond words. Is it more than mere talk? For some priests and bishops, it was not. As we see in James, true faith involves care of the afflicted and avoiding sexual sins, greed, deceit, envy and arrogance. 

True faith also means we trust Jesus and don't go after illusions. In today's Gospel Jesus places the cross at the center of what it means to follow him. Peter takes Jesus aside and arrogantly tries to correct him. Peter wants a messiah, a savior, but not a suffering servant like the one Isaiah describes in today's first reading. He wants a powerful, conquering king with worldly power and glory. Jesus minces no words. "Get behind me, Satan." Jesus knows how Satan works. He can orchestrate huge evils like the Nazi concentration camps, ethnic cleansing, abortion, and yes, the clergy abuse scandal. The devil can also work through basically good people - like St. Peter. He does it by getting us to turn away from the cross. It’s natural to want to run away from any suffering or pain. But we should never forget that through our baptism, we are given grace and strength to think and act not only naturally but also supernaturally. We don’t have to go looking for suffering, but when it inevitably finds us, we must remember that Jesus and his cross give it meaning and purpose.   


We are fortunate enough to have the words of St. James words for two more Sundays. I think of them like a challenging treat, like a delicious ice cream that punches you in the face. For today we see that true faith requires not just words but also actions. Living our faith means taking a risk - getting into the wheelbarrow. Or to put it in Jesus’ words, taking up our cross and following him. True faith means accepting the irony that "Whoever loses his life for my sake and the sake of the gospel will save it."