Homily for Sunday Ordinary Time 4 A

We are the disciples on the mountain, listening to every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord. The very first word that comes out of Jesus’ mouth is “blessed.” Words create realities. The pronouncement of blessing actually conveys the blessing. 

I have Mass on Sunday, February 1, at St. Isidore @ 7:30/9:30 am

frjoedailey@gmail.com

Transcript

a reading from the Holy Gospel according to Matthew. 

When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain, and after he had sat down, his disciples came to him. He began to teach them, saying, Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the land. Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be satisfied. Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy. Blessed are the clean of heart, for they will see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. Blessed are they who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when they insult you and persecute you and utter every kind of evil against you falsely because of me. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward will be great in heaven. 

The Gospel of the Lord. 

When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain and sat down. His disciples came to him, and he began to teach them. Matthew portrays Jesus as the new Moses. Moses went up the mountain to receive the law. Jesus goes up the mountain, and obviously he turns around and sits down and speaks. The original Greek, though, quotes a Hebrew figure of speech, which our translation omits. "He opened his mouth and taught them." 

Do you see what Matthew is telling us? They could see his face. When Moses went up the mountain, he could not see God face to face. Moses said to the people in Deuteronomy 4, verse 12, "When the Lord spoke out of the fire, you heard the sound of words, but saw no shape. There was only a voice." But here they are seeing the face, and the face is speaking to them, not from above in some distant hidden place, but as a teacher at their level. In Luke's gospel, this sermon is delivered on the plain. God is meeting us in the midst of our lives. 

Pastor Paul Dazet agrees. The Beatitudes, he writes, are a public declaration that dignity has not been lost, even when the world feels like it is unraveling. Jesus does not tell people to stop grieving or to be more positive. He blesses their grief. He treats mourning as a faithful response to a violent and broken world. The Beatitudes do not fix what is broken. They locate God in the middle of it. 

Amy Jill Levine, the Jewish New Testament scholar, reminds us that Jesus is speaking to the disciples. We know from Matthew chapter 10 that there are at least 12 disciples, but at this point in the gospel, Jesus has only called four disciples, Peter and Andrew, James and John. 

Let's stay with this picture. The crowd is obviously listening, But Jesus is speaking to insiders who have already given up much to follow him. They will be salt for the earth. 

If I were starting a movement, I'd want a grand opening. I would invite influencers who can make a difference. But according to Paul, "God chose the lowly and despised of the world, those who count for nothing." Like Paul, the prophet Zephaniah had to deal with the disappointment that only a handful of Israelites actually listened to him. Only this "poor, lowly remnant" dared take refuge in Yahweh. The Hebrew word for this remnant is "anawim." Anawim can be used to describe those who are poor or are oppressed, those who are humble or have been humiliated, and who look to God for help. We could call the poor in spirit the Anuim. 

Let's imagine that the four disciples are the Anawim, the remnant. 

Last Sunday, the Archdiocese of Paris launched a major church wide council in response to an unprecedented situation, the church in Paris is experiencing a surge in adult and youth conversions. We are seeing a similar increase in parts of the United States. One pastor in Paris said that they usually had about 15 young adult baptisms, but last year there were 23, And this year, they have 50 catechumens out of 800 people who come to Mass on Sundays. 

Some ask their parents and discover or realize that they were baptized as babies but never catechized. And because of this, there's also a significant increase in candidates for confirmation and Eucharist. Several reasons were given, but what stuck out for me was that many of these catechumens and candidates talked about how important their grandparents were to them. Those grandparents are the Anawim, the remnant. The only power they have is the power of love and faithfulness. 

Last Monday was the feast of St. Timothy, a young bishop in the early church. We read from Paul's letter to Timothy, I recall your sincere faith that first lived in your grandmother Lois and in your mother Eunice, and that I am confident lives also in you. From that seed of faith, God continues to bring forth fruit. 

The scripture repeats this story over and over again. When all hope seems lost, by God's grace, there's a new beginning. It always starts small, a remnant, but we can boast in what the Lord can do. 

In the Archdiocese of Detroit, we once numbered about 1.7 million Catholics. Now we are about 800,000, of which 150,000 of us go to church every Sunday. We are the remnant, the Anawim. 

We are the disciples on the mountain, listening to every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord. And the very first word that comes out of Jesus' mouth is blessed. Words create realities. The pronouncement of blessing actually conveys the blessing. 

In the next chapter of this sermon, Jesus teaches his followers to pray, Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Those who follow Jesus can begin to live by this rule here and now. The Sermon on the Mount is a summons to live in the present in the way that will make sense in God's promised future. It may seem upside down, but we're called to believe with great daring that it is in fact the right way up.