Thirty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time

I noticed today’s first and third readings did not warm your hearts.  And no wonder.  The prophet Malachi promises you that when the Day of Judgment comes, sinners will burn up like stumps left in the field after reaping.  Luke predicts a desolation that is frightening: wars and quakes, famine and plague, persecution and betrayal, days of distress and grapes of wrath.  A prudent preacher might focus on a simpler sentence of St. Paul in the second reading: “If anyone will not work, let him not eat.”

Why this somber word today?  Because the Liturgy of the Word is not a helter-skelter, haphazard selection of readings.  The liturgy ritualizes the story of our salvation.  We began the story on the First Sunday of Advent.  We shall end it next Sunday with the close of the Year of Mercy and the Feast of Christ the King.  Throughout this church year we have re-presented in symbol and story God’s wonderful works, have tried to relive them, make them a reality in our own lives.

In our country, we need to start building bridges and bringing people together.  We need to reach out to those who are hurting.  Now is the time to build unity and heal communities, through our love for our neighbors and our care for those in need.  We need to be people of peace, people of compassion.  Love, not hate.  Mercy, not revenge.  These are the tools to rebuild our nation and renew the American dream.  We are not liberals or conservatives.  Before everything else, we are children of God.

And so in this Stewardship Month of November, it’s important to remember we are not entitled to keep or consume everything we can produce or purchase.  It is through the things of earth that a woman or man becomes human or inhuman.  And so it is frightening that at least a billion human persons fall asleep hungry each night and frightening that the rich get richer and the poor get poorer.  This means that as a Christian, I can never be completely comfortable as long as one brother or sister cries in vain for bread or justice or love.

As a Christian, I must tear from my lips those horrible half-truths, “Charity begins at home,” “Let the shiftless shift for themselves,” “They are only getting what they deserve,” “Give them an inch and they will take a mile,” “Why should I give to others what has cost me sweat and blood and tears to achieve?”  Ultimately, all things are God’s: not only divine grace but the world’s energy, the fish of the sea and the birds of the air, earth and water, my life.  My stewardship of time, talent, and treasure.  I am a steward.  I manage what is God’s.

What especially does God ask of the Christian steward today?  The immediate answer is… money.  The mission of this parish based in good liturgy is outreach to the poor and to advocate for those who are unable to do so on their own.  Your pledge of treasure will facilitate change but money alone cannot guarantee it.  The money I ask and the money you give is ultimately to touch persons in need.  I simply suggest facets of understanding that may spark your own reflections.

First, I must relearn the value of each person.  I must sense my solidarity with all that is human.  I must learn to listen.  It means I must hear not words but a human person.  I must understand their history.  I must accept my own brokenness.  I am a wounded healer.

What do we do now while waiting for Christ to come again?  Look for him in our gathering together at Mass as stewardship parishioners.  Look for him on the faces of our dear ones.  But look for him especially where he told us to look: in the hungry and thirsty, the stranger and the naked, the sick and the imprisoned. 

Paul A. Magnano

Pastor