We cannot fail to wonder why the Lord Jesus whom we know as the Prince of Peace would make deeply disturbing and very perplexing statements as the ones in today’s gospel: “I have come to bring fire upon the earth, and how I wish it were already blazing! Do you think that I have come to establish peace on the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division.” How do you square being a Prince of Peace with an agent of division? Jeremiah—His Old Testament type—was targeted and thrown to the bottom of a cistern for making similar statements and prophesying doom to Israel.
We are like Israel of old. We don’t want anyone telling us that we or our kids aren’t that great. We don’t want to hear that some of our ideas aren’t in tune with reality. And if someone dares tell it like it is, he’s marked a “hater,” and has one or two of those modern phobias. Someone shared me how she got into trouble for what she said at a dinner party where everyone was having fun discussions about their kids, the just concluded PGA tournament, the Olympics, the lies of politicians, the newly discovered blue pill for guys and contraceptive pills. The tone of the conversation is fun, pleasant, and enjoyable. And then, she breaks the “peaceful and fun” atmosphere by saying: “I was at Mass last Sunday and the priest was speaking about the evils of contraception, and…” Everyone around the table freezes. People begin to look at each other, wondering: “Didn’t she get the memo?” She has broken the cardinal rule of conversation.
You know the rule: Never talk about religion on the dinner table. You just don’t. It makes people uncomfortable. It causes arguments. We’re better off sticking with things that are less controversial. We want things to be nice, pleasant, and cordial. Conflict? Just avoid it. In fact, she set the place on fire, awakening the divisions in ideology—political and religious. That’s the fire, my friends, that Jesus brings. It rages fiercely when uncomfortable truths are told.
Within our faith community, too, several priests got the memo and apply the same rule at the pulpit: No controversy; stick to what will make people feel good and want to return next Sunday. They have enough worries at home—the impending divorce, custody battles, bills, insurance, the weight they have to lose, kids’ sports activities, the next vacation, mounting interests on their credit cards, Dow Jones, S&P, gas prices, terrorism, etc., etc. So, when they come to Church, spare them of the challenges of Church doctrine, evangelization, discipleship; rather, give motivational talks to make them forget their problems (for a while). Make them laugh to quell their sorrows. Tell them about God’s mercy, not sin and judgment; and that Jesus only wants them to “love.”
Does the Jesus of today’s gospel sound that way? I got into trouble with a parishioner a few years back, because I’d preached that Catholics who missed Mass on Assumption have mortal sin in their soul and would need to go to confession before they receive the Eucharist. Right after Mass, this guy confronted me like an attack dog: “I totally disagree with you. Where is it in the Bible that if you miss Mass on Assumption, you have committed a mortal sin?” Something clear to me was that my homily thrust a red-hot coal right inside his heart and conscience. He needed to be humble, confess his sin, and be freed.
Jesus knew very well that not everyone would accept His teachings. He knew that the portrait of God He was painting was much different from the way many understood God; the kingdom about which He spoke was the exact opposite of that for which the Jews hoped. But that didn’t stop Him, nor would the divisions, ideologies, and opinions of today’s society stop the Church from declaring the truth. Intentional disciples of Christ inherit through baptism the dignity and duty of carrying the prophetic message and being Christ’s ambassadors who proclaim the kingdom in truth, even should they be called troublemakers.
Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo