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Free of Charge, No Cost: Homily for 3 August, 18th Sunday, Cycle A
By Fr. Dennis | August 3, 2008
Readings for the 18th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle A.
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Honeysuckle. It was the sweet smell of honeysuckle drifting lazily on the wind every evening that she would miss most about that grand old garden, with its rambling rows of wildflowers, its mighty oak trees, colorful dogwoods and fragrant magnolias, as well as pear and fig and citron trees that bore fruit all year round. And the brook that ran through the middle of the garden, always cool and fresh, with a sweet taste, as if the water had just fallen from the sky as rain that very morning.
And at the end of the day, she would walk on the grassy hillside, hand in hand with her husband, and sit under the willow. There they would picnic, with fresh berries and bananas and melons and hundreds of other things besides which we don’t even know of. They ate well and delighted in rich fare. There was always plenty, and some to spare. And she’d catch just a hint of the honeysuckle that was growing by the river, and lean against her husband with a happy, satisfied smile on her face.
But she wasn’t thinking of any of those things that one afternoon when it occurred to her that she deserved more. When asked about it later, she wasn’t sure whether she had done it herself, or whether she had let herself be talked into it by a magical talking garden snake who whispered the subtle suggestion that God was holding out on her. That there was something God was not letting her in on. That there was more to see, more to taste, and more to know, and that God was keeping her from it.
So instead of being grateful for all the goodness of the garden, she took matters into her own hands, and with her own hands, she took what she thought God was not willing to give her. She would live to regret her impulsiveness, as would her husband and all their children. And even though the rest of her life was hardship, once in a while, in the spring, she would notice a hint of honeysuckle on the air and remember that wonderful garden, and what her foolishness had cost.
It was the same way in the desert. The people of God, led by the hand of God, brought up out of the land of Egypt, the land of slavery, through the waters of the Red Sea into freedom, had inherited our first parents’ mistrust of God. Only a short time into their journey and they began complain.
At evening the quail would fly low overhead, and all they had to do was throw up a net to catch enough to feed their families. Water flowed from the rock, water that sustained their lives and their flocks. And in the mornings, God gave them manna in the desert. The bread that came down from heaven and scattered across the desert floor. They did nothing to earn it. It was all a gift from God. Free of charge, without cost.
Yet they were not satisfied. They believed that God was holding something back from them. That there was something they were entitled to that they were not being given.
And through the generations, all the children of Adam and Eve have felt the effects of that first, most basic human failing. We do not believe that God will give us what we need. We do not believe that God will take care of us. We do not believe that God keeps his promises. Like a pebble in a pond, the waves of that first failure spread across the ocean of humanity, and we wonder whether God is holding something back, or insist that he has not delivered what he promised, or that we are entitled to more from him than we are getting.
But listen to the words of the prophet Isaiah:
All you who are thirsty,
come to the water!
You who have no money,
come, receive grain and eat;
Come, without paying and without cost,
drink wine and milk!
Why spend your money for what is not bread;
your wages for what fails to satisfy?
Heed me, and you shall eat well,
you shall delight in rich fare.
Come to me heedfully,
listen, that you may have life.
I will renew with you the everlasting covenant,
the benefits assured to David.
(Isaiah 55:1-3)
This is the promise God makes to his people in the words of the prophet Isaiah. Though they have broken their covenant with him again and again, God promises a restoration. He promises grain without cost, and wine and milk. In the language of Isaiah, this is the language of richness and generosity. The image of plenty to eat and drink is the image of a banquet, which God promises to provide free of charge, without cost.
And when Jesus goes to the deserted place to pray, and some 5000 men with wives and children follow him there, after he gives health to the sick, hearing to the deaf, and sight to the blind, he gives food for the hungry. From almost nothing, just a few loaves and fish, he satisfies their hungry hearts with more than they can eat, more than they could hope for, and certainly more than they could pay for. Free of charge, without cost. Nothing they did earned them their meal. Nothing except the love Jesus had for them, which didn’t come from them but from God who had made them.
Today we heard Matthew’s version of the story (Matt 14:13-21), but in John’s version (John 6), Jesus goes on to tell the crowd: “I am the bread of life come down from heaven, and whoever eats this bread will live forever” (John 6:51). And in John’s version of the story, his explanation confused and angered many. “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” Thousands of them who had followed Jesus left that very day.
But hear his words again. “I am the bread of life come down from heaven, and whoever eats this bread will live forever.” Jesus, who gives us bread to eat which is his very flesh, who commands us to take and eat saying “Do this in memory of me,” offers us a share in his heavenly banquet. This very sacrifice of the mass is the foretaste and promise of the supper, the supper to which we are happy to be called, which we are not worthy to receive, but which is offered to us nonetheless. Free of charge, without cost.
God gave our first parents, Adam and Eve, everything they needed, and they wanted more, and took it. God gave his chosen people freedom, and gave them manna in the desert, the bread that comes down from heaven, and the people complained and wanted more. Jesus fed the crowds with bread, and they did not understand the sign and the promise he was making.
Jesus makes us a promise, for sure, and sometimes it’s hard to believe it’s true. But Paul reminds us that
“…neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor present things, nor future things, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Rom 8:38-39)
We may suffer at times from things we cannot control, but this does not separate us from Christ. In fact, it draws us closer to him, for we join with him in his sufferings, we endure with him what he endured for our sakes, and we become closer to him through our sharing in his sacrifice.
We know the promise of God, made to us again and again. We know that what we thought was being held back from us on that tree in the garden is offered up for us on the cross at Calvary. Offered up for us on this very altar. It is the body and blood of Jesus himself. It is his heavenly banquet. Free of charge, without cost. Happy are we who are called to his supper.
Topics: Homilies |
August 3rd, 2008 at 1:14 pm
Amen, Fr. Dennis. Amen!
August 7th, 2008 at 1:52 pm
Fr Dennis, I’m waitin’ to hear how you’re going to tie the Feast of the Assumption & Elvis together