Homily for the 13th Sunday in Ordinary Time, A

“Brothers and sisters: Are you unaware that we who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death?” (Romans 6:3)

I have Mass on Sunday, June 28th at St. Isidore @ 9:30/11:30 am

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Transcript

A reading from the Holy Gospel according to Matthew. 

Jesus said to his apostles, "Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever does not take up his cross and follow after me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds his life will lose it, And whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. Whoever receives you, receives me. And whoever receives me, receives the one who sent me. Whoever receives a prophet because he is a prophet, will receive a prophet's reward. And whoever receives a righteous man because he is a righteous man, will receive a righteous man's reward."

"And whoever gives only a cup of cold water to one of these little ones to drink, because the little one is a disciple, a man I say to you, he will surely not lose his reward."

The Gospel of the Lord. 

At the beginning of chapter 10 in Matthew's Gospel, Jesus called the twelve and sent them out to do the same things that Jesus had been doing, "cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons." In these final verses of chapter 10, we discover that disciples imitate their master, not just in what they will say and do, but in all they will experience in the mission field. Jesus has experienced rejection and opposition, and now the disciples, too, will find their family relationships disrupted. Jesus is forming a new family bond based on love and a common commitment rather than blood kinship. 

Jesus makes himself vulnerable, pouring out his life and love without counting the cost. We are called to do the same. "Whoever does not take up his cross and follow after me is not worthy of me." This is the first time the cross is mentioned in Matthew's Gospel. Only in taking up our cross can we begin to comprehend the way of Jesus. Whoever finds their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life for my sake will find it. G.K. Chesterton reminds all of us who might hesitate at this invitation. "Christianity has died many times and risen again, for it had a God who knew the way out of the grave."

Of course, we already know this. "Brothers and sisters, are you unaware that we who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death?" What happened to Christ in his dying and rising happens to us ritually in baptism. We probably don't make this connection, since most of us were baptized with water poured over our head. But Paul is thinking of the early church practice of baptism by immersion or submersion. We baptize by immersion at the Easter vigil. 

In entering the waters of baptism, the font is first of all a tomb. We die in the water, and going under the water are buried with Christ. And then the font becomes a womb. Coming up out of the water, we are literally born again. We put on new clothes, a white garment, to signify this new life that we now live. As Paul says in Galatians 2, verse 20, "It is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me."

Jesus seems to be making that same point when he declares, "Whoever receives you, receives me." We become the body of Christ in the world. Everything breathes of the presence of the divine in all our encounters. The story in the Book of Kings about the Shunammite woman and Elisha seems on the surface to be a story about a woman's thoughtfulness. In welcoming the stranger, however, both are blessed. The Shunammite woman welcomed the prophet and provided for his needs. She, in turn, welcomed the child that she had longed for. The act of welcoming is generative. 

I love to tell this story that happened to me 44 years ago this weekend. I set out on a pilgrimage of sorts. I wanted to understand this gospel injunction about being welcomed as a stranger. Catholics have great love for their priests, so I didn't want to travel as a priest. That would have been easy. I wanted to travel as a stranger, a pilgrim, and be welcomed along the way. I was camping in New England. The last week of June in 1982 was cold and rainy. There was even snow one night. There was hardly anyone else in the campground. 

I was in Maine at Acadia National Park on Friday, and the weather began to clear. As I wrote in my prayer journal that morning, I heard a very clear message. I was to welcome the stranger. This didn't really make sense to me. I was the one who was traveling as a stranger, but I thought, well, why not give it a try? 

So I set out to look for a victim. I met John and Pius, who were from Switzerland. They were spending an entire month traveling the United States, and they didn't have much camping gear. I invited them for dinner on Friday. They showed up again on Saturday morning for breakfast and again Saturday evening for dinner. 

The next day, I drove to St. Joseph Catholic Church in Ellsworth, Maine. There was a notice at the park that they were hosting a pancake breakfast on Sunday morning before Mass. After breakfast, I went into the church and sat down in an empty pew. I was greeted by a young couple with two small children in the pew behind me. After Mass, that same couple invited me to their home for breakfast. I hesitated. They knew nothing about me, and I knew nothing about them, but here was the answer to my prayer, and I almost said no. 

Every day after that, I was welcomed by someone along the way. I'm always surprised by the hidden presence of God in all of our encounters, even the most mundane. In the words of Matthew 25, "I was hungry, and you gave me food. I was thirsty, and you gave me a cup of cold water. I was a stranger, and you welcomed me. Truly, I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me."