Division: 26th Sunday of the Year
Homily for the 26th Sunday of the Year
Everywhere we look, anywhere we go,
we encounter differences.
Different cultures.
Different opinions.
Different religions.
In general, differences don’t bother us too much
until they come walking through our front door
and we’re forced to deal with them
For example:
Someone from another religion marries into your family.
The part-time minister at the factory where you work
invites you to join a Bible study on Wednesday mornings
in the break room.
The daughter in whom you invested 12 years of Catholic education
announces that she no longer believes in God.
Differences. Some are easier to accept than others.
This is especially true when it comes to matters of the heart.
When it comes to matters of the heart and soul,
simple differences can quickly turn into sharp divisions.
It even shows up in the gospel.
Today’s reading from the Gospel of Mark is a prime example:
“Lord, that man over there is not of our company,
tell him to quit using your name.
He’s not applied for use of the trademark.
He’s a stranger.
We question his credentials.”
Differences.
Some are hard to swallow.
Move from the gospel book to the history book
and you’ll see the tragic story of all the wars
fought in the name of religion.
Different religions.
Move from the history book to the nightly news
and you’ll hear stories about religious division
alive and lethal in our own day.
But don’t stop there.
Don’t stop with the bad news.
Go on to the good news…
the good news found in the words of Jesus who reminds us today that
differences are not the same as division.
Differences exist,
divisions are made.
Like most sins,
it feels good to make division,
to draw a line and bask in the pride
that convinces you
that you’ve staked your claim
on the right side of the divide.
But drawing a line is serious business.
In post 9/11 America,
we’re tragically aware of what happens
when lines are drawn in hatred and fear.
We recently commemorated the fifth anniversary of that terrible day.
I’m sure you watched some programs
and read some articles about on it.
The most striking article that I read
was written by Peggy Noonan.
The title of her article was, “I Just Called to Say I Love You.”1
Her words moved me.
They focused, not on the images from that day,
but the sounds.
She writes:
“I think about the phone calls and messages left on answering machines, all the last things said to whoever was home and picked up the phone. They awe me, those messages.”
Thirty-one-year-old Melissa Harrington,
a California-based trade consultant
attending a meeting in the Towers
called her father to say she loved him.
Minutes later she left a message on the answering machine
as her new husband slept in their San Francisco home,
“Sean, it’s me. I just wanted to let you know that I loved you.”
Captain Walter Hynes of the New York Fire Department dialed home
and left this message:
“I don’t know if we’ll make it out.
I want you to know that I love you and I love the kids.”
Something terrible had happened.
Time was short, life was reduced to its essentials.
Noonan reminds us that
there is no record of anyone calling to say,
“I never liked you,” or “You hurt my feelings.
Amazingly, or not, there is no record of anyone damning the terrorists
or saying, “I hate them.”
Differences are a reality in our world.
Divisions are a choice.
But so is love.
And love is of God.
Everywhere we look, anywhere we go,
we encounter differences.
Different cultures.
Different opinions.
Different religions.
In general, differences don’t bother us too much
until they come walking through our front door
and we’re forced to deal with them
For example:
Someone from another religion marries into your family.
The part-time minister at the factory where you work
invites you to join a Bible study on Wednesday mornings
in the break room.
The daughter in whom you invested 12 years of Catholic education
announces that she no longer believes in God.
Differences. Some are easier to accept than others.
This is especially true when it comes to matters of the heart.
When it comes to matters of the heart and soul,
simple differences can quickly turn into sharp divisions.
It even shows up in the gospel.
Today’s reading from the Gospel of Mark is a prime example:
“Lord, that man over there is not of our company,
tell him to quit using your name.
He’s not applied for use of the trademark.
He’s a stranger.
We question his credentials.”
Differences.
Some are hard to swallow.
Move from the gospel book to the history book
and you’ll see the tragic story of all the wars
fought in the name of religion.
Different religions.
Move from the history book to the nightly news
and you’ll hear stories about religious division
alive and lethal in our own day.
But don’t stop there.
Don’t stop with the bad news.
Go on to the good news…
the good news found in the words of Jesus who reminds us today that
differences are not the same as division.
Differences exist,
divisions are made.
Like most sins,
it feels good to make division,
to draw a line and bask in the pride
that convinces you
that you’ve staked your claim
on the right side of the divide.
But drawing a line is serious business.
In post 9/11 America,
we’re tragically aware of what happens
when lines are drawn in hatred and fear.
We recently commemorated the fifth anniversary of that terrible day.
I’m sure you watched some programs
and read some articles about on it.
The most striking article that I read
was written by Peggy Noonan.
The title of her article was, “I Just Called to Say I Love You.”1
Her words moved me.
They focused, not on the images from that day,
but the sounds.
She writes:
“I think about the phone calls and messages left on answering machines, all the last things said to whoever was home and picked up the phone. They awe me, those messages.”
Thirty-one-year-old Melissa Harrington,
a California-based trade consultant
attending a meeting in the Towers
called her father to say she loved him.
Minutes later she left a message on the answering machine
as her new husband slept in their San Francisco home,
“Sean, it’s me. I just wanted to let you know that I loved you.”
Captain Walter Hynes of the New York Fire Department dialed home
and left this message:
“I don’t know if we’ll make it out.
I want you to know that I love you and I love the kids.”
Something terrible had happened.
Time was short, life was reduced to its essentials.
Noonan reminds us that
there is no record of anyone calling to say,
“I never liked you,” or “You hurt my feelings.
Amazingly, or not, there is no record of anyone damning the terrorists
or saying, “I hate them.”
Differences are a reality in our world.
Divisions are a choice.
But so is love.
And love is of God.
posted by BlueCollarPreacher at 7:06 PM
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