The Twenty-first
Sunday in Ordinary Time (C)
Dear brothers and sisters,
A few moments ago, we prayed “that, amid
the uncertainties of this world, our hearts may be fixed on that place where true
gladness is found.”[1] Of
all the things we experience in this world, only one will remain: love. And
love is brought to fulfillment in that place where true gladness is found,
which we call heaven, “the ultimate end and fulfillment of the deepest human
longings, the state of supreme, definitive happiness.”[2]
We often want to know where heaven
is, but the better question to consider is what heaven is. Christians
know that the word heaven
does not indicate
a place above the stars but something far more daring and sublime: it indicates
Christ himself, the divine Person who welcomes humanity fully and forever, the
One in whom God and man are inseparably united forever. Man’s being in God,
this is Heaven. And we draw close to Heaven, indeed, we enter Heaven to the
extent that we draw close to Jesus and enter into communion with him.[3]
To put it another way, “Heaven does not
belong to the geography of space, but to the geography of the heart.”[4]
This is why we speak of heaven as “the blessed community of all who are perfectly
incorporated into Christ.”[5]
But how are we incorporated into Christ? We shall return to this in a moment.
One thousand nine hundred and forty years ago
today/yesterday, Mount Vesuvius erupted and buried the people of Pompeii under
more than fifteen feet of volcanic ash. In the early afternoon of August 24, 79,
Pliny the Younger tells us that “a cloud with an odd appearance” was seen in
the sky and just a short time later
…it appeared sometimes bright and sometimes dark
and spotted, according as it was either more or less impregnated with earth and
cinders… The ash already falling became hotter and thicker as the ships
approached the coast and it was soon superseded by pumice and blackened burnt
stones shattered by the fire. Suddenly the sea shallowed where the shore was
obstructed and choked by debris from the mountain.[6]
The terror was so great that some people thought
“the last eternal night had fallen on the world.”[7]
By the time the eruption was over about 8:00 a.m. on August 25th, thousands of
people perished in Pompeii alone.
Today, throngs of tourists amble about the
uncovered streets of Pompeii. They marvel at the intricacy of the mosaics and
frescoes, they laugh at the brothel, and stare in wonder at preserved loaves of
bread, but they give little – if any – thought to what went through the hearts
and minds of the Pompeiians as they watched their inescapable doom come down
upon them. Where were their hearts set? Upon the uncertainties of this world,
or on that place where true gladness is found? Where are our own hearts set?
Today, we hear the Lord Jesus say to us, “Strive
to enter through the narrow gate, for many, I tell you, will attempt to enter
but will not be strong enough” (Luke 13:24). When he calls himself the narrow
gate, the Savior is not excluding people from salvation, as some of his
followers seek to do. Rather,
everyone may enter life, but the door is "narrow"
for all. We are not privileged. The passage to eternal life is open to all, but
it is "narrow" because it is demanding: it requires commitment,
self-denial and the mortification of one's selfishness.
Once again, as on recent Sundays, the Gospel
invites us to think about the future which awaits us and for which we must
prepare during our earthly pilgrimage.
Salvation, which Jesus brought with his death
and Resurrection, is universal. He is the One Redeemer and invites everyone to
the banquet of immortal life; but on one and the same condition: that of
striving to follow and imitate him, taking up one's cross as he did, and
devoting one's life to serving the brethren. This condition for entering
heavenly life is consequently one and universal.[8]
The way to enter into this gate – the gate of
Christ – is through the waters of Baptism, the Sacrament by which “we become
members of Christ, are incorporated into the Church and [are] made sharers in
her mission.”[9] Because
we are incorporated into Christ through the waters of Baptism we also receive
the promise of eternal life with God if “we know the Lamb without spot on which
[we] feed.”[10] We
know that
the faithful Christian who has ‘kept the seal’
[of Baptism] until the end, remaining faithful to the demands of his [or her]
Baptism, will be able to depart this life ‘marked with the sign of faith,’ with
[the] baptismal faith, in expectation of the blessed vision of God”[11]
– with the expectation of heaven, with the
expectation of true gladness.
But what does Jesus mean he speaks about being
strong enough to enter through the narrow gate? He speaks about maintaining a
friendship with him that is so deep, so relational, so strong, that the carrying
of his Cross becomes not a burden, but a joy. Those who are strong enough to
enter through the narrow gate do not fall away from the life of discipleship,
they do not abandon the Lord when difficulties, doubts, or demands come their
way. Rather, they cling to him all the more fervently. Indeed, “true
friendship with Jesus is expressed in the way of life: it is expressed with
goodness of heart, with humility, meekness and mercy, love for justice and
truth, a sincere and honest commitment to peace and reconciliation.”[12]
In short, the true friends of Jesus look like Jesus, sound like Jesus, and act
like Jesus.
It is necessary to remember that elsewhere Jesus
says quite clearly, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to
the Father except through me” (John 14:6). Here, again, the Lord is not being
exclusionary, but is inviting everyone to enter into his friendship, to take up
his Cross, and follow after him. There simply is no other way to salvation, no
other way to eternal happiness, no other way to heaven, than him.
Gathered as we are around this altar of the
Lord, in a few moments we will partake of his Body and Blood; we will dine with
him at the re-presentation of his Last Supper. Do we know the Lamb without spot
on which we feed? Have we come here with our hearts set on this passing world,
or on that place where true gladness is found? Because we do not want to hear
him say to us, “Depart from me, all you evildoers,” let us strive to see him
more clearly, to love him more dearly, and to follow him more nearly, and in so
doing become his true friends. Then, with our hearts set on him, we can face the
difficulties, doubts, and demands of life with joyful confidence in the power
of his love. Amen.
[1] Roman Missal, Collect for the
Twenty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time.
[2] Catechism of the Catholic
Church, 1024.
[3] Pope Benedict XVI, Homily, 24 May
2009.
[4] Ibid., Homily, 25 December
2007.
[5] Catechism of the Catholic
Church, 1026.
[6] Pliny the Younger, Letter LXV, To
Tacitus.
[7] Ibid., Letter LXVI, To Cornelius
Tacitus.
[8] Pope Benedict XVI, Angelus Address,
26 August 2007.
[9] Catechism of the Catholic
Church, 1213.
[10] Saint Augustine of Hippo, Sermon
308A.6.
[11] Catechism of the Catholic
Church, 1274.
[12] Pope Benedict XVI, Angelus Address,
26 August 2007.
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