Homily
for the
Sixteenth Sunday
of the Year
Cycle C
Reverend Kyle L. Doustou
July 17, 2016
This
past Thursday I spent the entire morning and the better part of the afternoon running
around like a chicken with my head cut off. I got up very early to offer Mass
and say my prayers, but then I was off like lightening…cleaning and packing
like a mad man, making phone calls, tying up all kinds of loose ends in the
parish before I leave, etc. But by 2:00 in the afternoon, the heat and humidity
was finally getting to me, and I decided that it was time for a quick break. So
I poured myself a big glass of iced tea, put on my headphones with my Gregorian
chant station playing on Pandora, and sat in a big comfy chair outside the
rectory on the patio. I was only going to stay out there long enough to have a
drink, but the sun was so warm, the music so soothing, the tea so refreshing,
that within minutes I was asleep. Despite the fact that I had a million things
running through my head, and despite the fact that I still had so much to do, I
was powerless at this moment. The beauty and comfort of a warm summer day
enslaved me and lulled me into rest against my will. I woke up after about 20
minutes or so and found myself completely at peace. No more restless energy and
no more anxiousness…I felt as though the only moment in my life that mattered
was the present one. And so I decided to sit for a bit longer and to simply bask
in the ordinary beauty of a perfect County day. There was a mourning dove in
the area cooing away, the laughter of children off in the distance, the smell
of fresh cut grass, the buzzing of bees around Father Labrie’s little flower
garden…so many good things, so many simple things, so many things that I would
have missed if I didn’t take the opportunity to rest.
For
people like me, rest is so often just a necessary evil. We sleep and rest as
little as possible, usually only so that we have the energy to do the real work of life. We like being busy…we like
doing things…we like getting things done. We’re a lot like Martha in our Gospel
today; we seem to thrive on stress – even though it can be a burden on us –
because stress produces tangible results. When we work, work, work, we get a
feeling of great satisfaction because we accomplish much, and this gives us a
sense of worth and value. It’s not as if this were a bad thing – a good work
ethic, a desire and drive to be active, is a necessary part of our physical,
emotional, and spiritual health. But our Lord asks us today to reflect on the
importance of what He calls “the better part” of our physical, emotional, and
spiritual health: a lack of activity, a good rest.
We
have to admit that, in reading Scripture, we see that work cannot constitute
the fullness of our purpose on earth or even, more importantly, our
relationship with God. We don’t work for the sake of working more…we work
precisely so that we can eventually work less. That’s why our Lord tells us in
St. Matthew’s Gospel, “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I
will give you rest.” (Mt. 11:28.) And this is why we say of the dead, “Eternal
rest grant unto them, O Lord.” As evening draws near every day, and as the
evening of our life draws near, we are reminded that eventually our work and
activity must cease so that God’s work and activity in us can begin. The
beautiful, but hidden work of God’s grace in our souls is so often hindered
because we won’t stop long enough for Him to replenish us. Just as too much or
inordinate physical work can become a burden to our bodies, too much or
inordinate spiritual work can become deadly to our souls. Until we learn to
regularly and often quiet the unrest and activity of our souls and allow
ourselves to rest and be passive in the presence of God, there will be little holiness
us.
People
come to me often asking how they might begin to attain this passivity of
spirit, this rest in the Lord, in a more genuine and authentic way. In our loud
and flashy world, it’s difficult to calm our souls down long enough for the
Lord to work in us. There are steps we can take, like cultivating silence,
unplugging devices, trimming down our calendars, etc., but there is one supreme
way in which we can learn, like Mary, to rest happily at the feet of the Lord…and
that is by, paradoxically, actively entering into the Mystery of the Sacred
Liturgy in a radically passive way.
Our
Lord designated one day of the week for complete rest…the Sabbath. Prior to His
death and resurrection, the Sabbath finished the week…but now it begins the
week. We come to church on the day of rest to enter into what should be the
most restful experience of our week: the liturgy. The word “liturgy” comes from
the Greek word leitourgia – which itself
is derived from two words: laos, “the
people”, and ergas, “a work.” Some
scholars have mistranslated the word liturgy to mean, “the work of the people,”
but this is not at all true to the historical use of the word or to its current
theological use. In the ancient Greek world, leitourgia – liturgy, was
used as a word to describe an act of public service. A senator was engaged in leitourgia when going about his daily
duties; a wealthy benefactor was engaged in leitourgia
when constructing a temple or public building. Leitourgia – liturgy is
work that is done for the sake of the people. Thus the Church quickly adopted
the word liturgy to describe its
worship in order to emphasize that what happens at the altar is solely and
completely the work of Christ Himself…a work offered to the Father on our
behalf. At every Mass, Christ is the One Who is acting. He is like our “senator”,
our “benefactor”…the One Who is working, the One Who is celebrating, the One
Who is offering Himself – and us – to the Father as a perfect Sacrifice that
brings life and redemption to the world. The Mystery of the Liturgy, then, is
the Mystery of God’s work for us in,
with, and through Jesus Christ. And the key to more actively participating in
the Sacred Liturgy is not becoming more involved, or doing more things, or
singing more loudly, or shaking more hands, or distributing Communion, or
reading, or altar serving, or taking the collection, but rather – paradoxically
and mysteriously – to becoming more and more passive. Our primary and really
our only worth-while work in the sacred liturgy is to pour ourselves out onto
the altar with Christ, to sacrifice all that we have, to make of ourselves
nothing so that Christ can raise us to everything. The Liturgy, with all of its
smells and bells and sounds and candles and vestments, is designed to take the
burden off our minds so that we can let go and get lost in it. The beauty of
the liturgy is designed to make us, in a sense, powerless…just as I was
powerless as I slipped off to sleep in the warm summer sun, the liturgy helps
to strip from us all the power and control we so desperately love so that we
can be lulled into God’s rest.
As
I slept ever-so-peacefully in the garden chair this past Thursday, there was
something being accomplished in me with which I had nothing to do. All I had to
do was put myself in the chair and nature did the rest. The same thing is true
with God in our spiritual lives. Work and pray hard, certainly, but then come
to Mass, plop yourself down in the pew, and allow the beauty of God’s liturgy –
His work done for you – to take you captive. Empty all your distractions,
worries, presuppositions, concerns, etc. onto the altar of sacrifice, and then
slip off into the rest that Christ promises. When you awake, you will be at
peace, and like Mary, it will not be taken from you.
