Memorial of Saint Ignatius of Antioch, Bishop and Martyr
A couple of summers ago, I traveled to France with some colleagues from the University of Dayton on a pilgrimage that took us to places that deeply shaped the founders of the Society of Mary or Marianists, who founded UD. Along the way, we spent the better part of one day at the Palace of Versailles.
I had never been there before and was blown away by its size, all of the art within it, the gold everywhere . . . and the selfie sticks. As we passed from one to another room among the king’s apartments, it was really challenging to see the room because there were scores of selfie sticks up in the air. It also really tough to move about the room because people didn’t want to give up their selfie spot until they got the right look of themselves in “the king’s bedroom.”
To say that we focus on the outside—on our appearance, on projecting images of ourselves that we think others will find appealing, on how others perceive us—is something of an understatement these days. We desperately want others to see us as we want to be seen.
If today’s story from Luke is a guide, it would appear as though Jesus is not very impressed with our fixation on the outside. He certainly evinces no interest in how he appears to the Pharisees as he sits down for a meal without having properly cleaned his hands. His “outside” is offensive to the Pharisees, and he couldn’t care less.
Jesus responds to the Pharisees’ surprise (offense, perhaps) that he has failed to present his outside properly by pointing out the greed and wickedness he knows to be on their insides. And if they thought they could hide their wickedness and greed from him, he lets them know that the one who made their outside knows their inside too. God knows, he tells them, what they seek to hide.
Although they surely deserve such a sermon, as do we, Jesus does not go that way. He doesn’t lecture them on how superficial they are or on why they should turn their attention away from questions of outer purity and consider instead their own inner debauchery.
Instead, he tells them to give alms. Give alms, he says, and “everything will be clean for you.” Their insides and their outsides, perhaps. Or, maybe it isn’t about insides or outsides or what is clean. Give alms. Give alms. And all will be well.
How about we all put down our “selfie sticks”—or whatever it is in our lives that keeps us focused on us, on how we appear to others, and how others appear to us—and give. Just give. Give to the poor, give to the suffering, give to the stranger in need. Just give. And see what is made clean.
- Sue Trollinger