Twenty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time
As strong as hate appears, love is stronger. As final as death is, love resurrects life. As horrific as suffering seems, love conquers, for love gives the definitive meaning to our lives. Those without love - empty, shattered, and broken - suffer despair for they have nothing to live for. They are void and vapid trying to escape reality. They have nothing of value, meaning, or purpose in their lives. They, as Henry Thoreau envisions, “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.” Lack of fulfilling work, empty entertainments, misplaced values, empty goals, and destructive morals plague individuals. The values we esteem, those that create pleasures, powers, and possessions, and the accolades, status, and position we desire drain us of purpose. Desperate, we lack inspiration, motivation, and creativity.
Instead of accepting the reality, anything of value demands sacrifice, the masses live mediocrity. They embrace slavery, living lives of little value. Settling for the mundane, they cringe at the pains of life. They recoil at the sacrifices needed to break free from mediocrity. They deny reality. Tensions exist. Suffering exists, so does death and evil. True struggles take place between good and evil, life and death, happiness and desperation. Instead of fighting for a life worth living, many despair only to find themselves desperate for meaning yet void of motivation to obtain it.
Jesus, a man of mighty deeds, gathered crowds about Him. He offered hope to those possessed. He gave sight to the blind, walk to lame, cleansing to the lepers, even life to the dead. People flocked to hear him preach. They wanted to see his miracles, be freed from their sins, healed of their infirmities, and find inspiration to break free from their desperation. Story after story, Matthews Gospel gives hope. Light shines into the darkness of our human condition. The curse of desperation is lifted.
Then suddenly without warning, He declares,
I “must go to Jerusalem and suffer many things from the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised” (Matt 16:21).
Shock fills the apostles. Terrorized, they knew human cruelty. They saw, smelt, and suffered the pains of hell come alive in their streets and cities. The Romans perfected new ways to inflict terror upon the people they ruled. Commit a crime, you will endure the wrath of the Romans: decapitation, slaughtering the innocent, scourging human bodies, and worst of all crucifying, even with nails, anyone who rebels. Knowing the brutality of the Romans, the Jews displayed their own cruelty. They would stone men and women, crushing their bodies with rocks leaving the bodies at the feet of others (Saul).
Such graphic displays horrify creating living nightmares. Jesus foretells his crucifixion. He reveals explicitly his death. He too will be whipped mercilessly, be crowned with thorns, carry his cross up Golgotha Hill, be nailed to this beam, and die asphyxiated, his heart bursting. Too graphic to watch, the apostles fled, leaving John and Mary along with Magdalene to partake of this horror.
King David experienced this and foretold the sufferings of the Messiah,
Dogs are round about me; a company of evildoers encircle me; they have pierced my hands and feet— I can count all my bones— they stare and gloat over me; they divide my garments among them, and for my clothing they cast lots (Ps 22:16–18).
Isaiah divined this too,
He was despised and rejected by men; a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not (Is 53:3).
Yet, why suffer such brutality and cruelty. Why watch the terrors of the night, the arrows that fly by day, the pestilence stalking in the dark, and the plague at the noon day (Ps 91:5-6). Simply put, “By his wounds, we are healed (Is 53:5).
Suffering out of love heals. It is the only remedy that removes the curse. As the Catechism comments on St. Paul and his passage, “For as by one man’s disobedience many were made sinners, so by one man’s obedience many will be made righteous (Rom 5:19), it states:
Despite his anguish as he faced death, he accepted it in an act of complete and free submission to his Father’s will. The obedience of Jesus has transformed the curse of death into a blessing (Catholic Church, Catechism of the Catholic Church, # 1009).
Completely contradictory to our ways, the cross of Christ breaks the curse we suffer and frees us to live and love without fear. No longer desperate, doing the will of God, which at times is irrational appearing absurd, inspires us to heal our woundedness but also be healers of others and their wounds. Doing God’s will, despite the sacrifices demanded, cures the incurable wounds of our hearts (Jer 30:12).
The curse of Satan causes suffering. Yet, the love of Christ cancels the curse. Jesus changes the curse into a blessing, evil into goodness, death into victory. The contradiction of Christ stupefies us. In his sufferings, our hearts are healed. No longer stoney, hardened hearts, desperate for love, they become hearts of flesh (Ez 11:19; 36:26; Jer 31:33). Or better yet, as the Letter to the Hebrews explains,
I will put my laws into their minds, and write them on their hearts, and I will be their God, and they shall be my people (Heb 8:10).
Taking up his cross, that is to embrace his death in all its cruelty and finality, denigrates Christ’s dignity and beauty. Yet, his crucifixion, the ultimate absurdity, creates the definitive contradiction: Life comes from death. Love comes from hate. Healing comes from suffering. The curse that came from Adam’s sin the source of our desperation, now becomes the source of our redemption. We are healed in Christ. The death, sin, and suffering we endure change. We are no longer tied to desperation. No longer does weakness overcome us producing our misery. We trust Jesus. He changes our hearts. We become like Him. We too cast out demons, heal the sick, give sight to the blind, walk to lame, life to the dead. We, transformed in heart, have his power to touch hearts, too.
Jesus’ decisive intervention takes what is fallen, placing it all upon the cross. Then He transforms all of creation, restoring it beyond its original beauty. St. John the Evangelist who witnessed his death tells us: “He is the expiation for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the sins of the whole world” (1 Jn 2:2; Rom 8:21). In Jesus, the incurable wounds of our heart that cause the deepest desperation become the incredible display of God’s restoring grace.
Peter, a desperate man struggling to find meaning, fishes all night catching nothing. Yet, when he encounters Jesus, he catches such a multitude of fish his boats begin sinking. He, a man of faith, walks on the water only to despair and sink into the depths. He cries out. He, a man who saw the transfiguration, denies Jesus three times. Yet, after his personal transformation at Pentecost, he finally understands Jesus.
He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed. (1 Pe 2:24).
His love suffers our sins, and, in his suffering, He heals our wounds. No longer strangled by our fears of sufferings, Divine Love empowers us to embrace our sufferings knowing that united with Christ, our wounds are healed. Not only are our wounds healed, but as St. John Paul explains:
In the Cross of Christ not only is the Redemption accomplished through suffering, but also human suffering itself has been redeemed. Christ, - without any fault of his own - took on himself "the total evil of sin" (John Paul II Salvific Doloris, # 19).
By his cross, our strength is restored. Our fears fill us with courage for we have the heart of Christ within. St Teresa of the Holy Cross, a contemporary of John Paul II, raised Jewish who became an atheist, then converted and became a Carmelite nun, reveals to us the power of love displayed upon the cross.
By doing what God demands of us with total surrender of our innermost being, we cause the divine life to become our inner life. Entering into ourselves, we find God in our own selves (St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross).
Love conquers desperation because it defines why we suffer. Instead of shear, senseless pain, love gives meaning and purpose. Love transcends the suffering knowing that when we do suffer with Christ, our suffering has a new purpose. We become one with Jesus. We become another Christ doing what Jesus requires: “If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me” (Lk 9:23).