Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time
I had just been newly ordained. I was twenty-eight. I had a meeting scheduled with my religious superior for a new assignment. It was a bright sunny day in Bangalore, India. It was morning peak hour traffic as I set out on my brand-new Hero Honda Splendor – a popular motor bike in those days. Midway through my commute, I saw a man lying face down on the road, with his rag picking bag still on his back. Rag pickers pick up recycling materials from public trash bins to make a living. It is a huge industry in India. Everything inside me told me to stop and help this man as the rest of world drove by. After all, I was a priest. I cannot explain to you or even to myself, why I did not stop. It was so uncharacteristic of me. After twelve years of seminary training, after having said Mass that very morning, despite carrying a desire to change the world, I did not stop when it mattered. It is thirty-two years since that day. It haunts me even today. I wish I could go back and make it right. I cannot.
My terrible experience came to me as I read the scripture readings to prepare today’s homily. In my three points I would like to reflect on the meaning of authentic faith.
Authentic Faith
I would like to begin with today’s first reading from Isaiah. Let me provide the context for the reading. God’s people were puzzled because they were fasting and fulfilling all the other religious obligations, but God did not seem to answer them. They asked God, “Why do we fast, but you do not see it? afflict ourselves, but you take no note?” (Is 58:3). God’s response was poignant. Did they really expect God to notice their fasting when they selfishly carried out their own pursuit and drove their laborers to despair? Did they really expect God to notice their pious practices while they ignored the hungry, the homeless, and the naked? (Is 58:3-4).
It is interesting that God does not ask them to pray more, to fast more, to cover themselves in sackcloth and ashes, or offer extravagant sacrifices so that God might be pleased. In fact, God would say, “What do I care for the multitude of your sacrifices?” (Is 1:11). Rather, God says, “Share your bread with the hungry, shelter the oppressed and the homeless; clothe the naked when you see them, and do not turn your back on your own. (Is 58:7).
If there is anything all of scripture teaches us, it is that authentic faith is seen in how we treat people. It is not that prayer, rituals, and worship are not important. But the authenticity of our religiosity is seen in how we treat people, particularly the poor. And this is not a call to put a little extra in the collection basket or increase charitable giving. Rather, it is a call for conversion, for transformation of society into a just and peaceful place for human flourishing.
In other words, God’s answer to the question, “Why do we fast and you do not see?” was that fasting and all our religious obligations are hypocritical if it does not lead to a true social morality that ensures peace and prosperity for all.
Salt and Light
Today’s gospel reading takes us from authentic faith to authentic witness. Jesus says, “You are the salt of the earth” and “You are the light of the world.” How do we define authentic witness? Jesus defines it as, “That they may see your good deeds and glorify your heavenly Father” (Mt 5:16).
The salt and light similes come right after the Beatitudes, which we heard in last Sunday’s gospel. The life that gives glory to God, is a life lived in poverty of spirit. A life that gives glory to God is a life that mourns with empathy for suffering people. You give glory to God by being meek, by hungering and thirsting for righteousness, by being merciful, by being clean of heart, by being peacemakers.
Jesus is the personification of the Beatitudes. He is the example of authentic faith and authentic witness. He is often seen praying and fasting. But his prayer and fasting led him to the streets, to the marginalized, to those on the peripheries, to the poor, the lame, the lepers, the prostitutes, sinners and tax-collectors. By doing so, he also laid bare the hypocrisy of the religious leaders as he shielded the woman caught in adultery. He exposed their self-righteousness as he sat and ate with sinners. He exposed false piety as he overturned the tables of the money changers in the temple. He multiplied food when he saw hungry listeners. He transformed faith and society by teaching that the entire Law is covered by deep love of God and genuine love of neighbor.
In this way, Jesus became the salt of the earth and the light of the world. His good deeds gave glory to God. And now he says to us, “You are the salt of the earth.” “You are the light of the world.”\
Let Your Light Shine
So then, we ask, how can we be the salt of the earth? How can we be the light of the world? The answer today is the same that God gave to the people then: “Share your bread with the hungry, shelter the oppressed and the homeless; clothe the naked when you see them, and do not turn your back on your own. Then your light can break forth like the dawn (Is 58:7-8a). And again, “If you remove from your midst oppression, false accusation and malicious speech; if you bestow your bread on the hungry and satisfy the afflicted; then light shall rise for you in the darkness, and the gloom shall become for you like midday.” (Is 58:9-10).
In this context, I want to draw your attention to the most recent letter from Archbishop Casey, which is included in this weekend’s bulletin. He says “These are increasingly divisive and disturbing times for our country and our world. Those who live on the margins of society are frightened. In particular, our immigrant brothers and sisters find themselves challenged and face an uncertain future. All of humanity possesses a dignity given to us as God’s creation. Each of us, no matter our race, language, or creed has been created in God’s image and likeness. Only with this conviction of our sacred and shared dignity as God’s sons and daughters can we hope to boldly proclaim the possibility of peace amidst the uproar of these distressing times.”
The Archbishop’s words today are like Isaiah’s words then. What we do with them is our choice. Know this, though, at stake is the authenticity of our faith.
We are here to celebrate Mass. I am the same priest, who after celebrating the Eucharist, left the poor on the street. May this not happen to us. If our celebration must be an authentic celebration of our faith, like Jesus, it must lead us to the streets, to the poor, the vulnerable, the hungry, the naked, and those in our midst looking for a home. “Then,” as Isaiah says, “light shall rise for you in the darkness, and the gloom shall become for you like midday.”
- Fr. Satish Joseph