Sixth Sunday after Pentecost

SIXTH SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST
(Proper 7, Year A)
June 22, 2008
Ss. Peter & Paul – Fr. Phillip Ayers

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In a “Peanuts” cartoon, Charlie Brown is asking Lucy why life is so hard and full of adversity. She replies that adversity is good for you because it builds character. Charlie Brown then wants to know what we need character for, to which Lucy answers: to cope with adversity.
In today’s Gospel Jesus talks tough with his disciples about what lies ahead for them as they prepare to take over his work in the world. They are informed that they cannot expect special treatment—a bullet-proof vest that will deflect the evil around them—since “a disciple is not above his teacher,” and Jesus himself was continually under attack as he went about doing the Father’s will.
Yet there are assurances here that such a life of service is possible, and that the fruits of faithfulness will be more than worth the inevitable losses and suffering that are required along Jesus’ way.
Finding our true life really does mean losing the superficial trappings of what we originally thought was our treasure. It is only by the way of sacrifice for what truly maters that we discover the Kingdom—and our own true worth.
A seasoned monk expressed this, concerning the “easy way” some try to take: “If you see a young man climbing up to the heavens by his own will, catch him by the foot and throw him down to the earth; it is not good for him.”

These apostles were not going to have it easy. According to a variety of traditional sources:
James, the son of Zebedee, was beheaded in Jerusalem, the first of the Apostles to die, during the Easter season in about A.D. 44.
Matthew was slain by the sword in a city in Ethiopia.
Mark was dragged through the streets of Alexandria until he expired.
Luke was hanged on an olive tree in Greece.
James the Less was thrown from a pinnacle or wing of the temple.
Philip was hanged up against a pillar in Phrygia.
Bartholomew was flayed alive.
Andrew was scourged, then tied to a cross in the shape of an “X” where he preached to the people for two days before dying.
Jude was shot to death with arrows.
Thomas was run through the body with a lance.
Simon Zelotes was crucified.
Peter was crucified upside down.
Matthias was stoned and beheaded.
John was exiled to the penal island of Patmos and later became the only Apostle to die a natural death.
“Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth” was a wake-up call to any who thought that respect and success were handily won in a world that would also kill their Master.
So then—how to live, when all of our days are numbered. How can we survive assaults of paralyzing fear and doubt that assail us in our perilous journey?

Jesus reminds his disciples that their true value is inestimable—because we all belong to the Father, and no one can destroy our souls, which are held in love by God.
Yet we are called to testify to the divisive truth of Gospel fire. The sword of Jesus’’ revelation cuts our lives into past and future. Now we are his. We are challenged, while we live, to overcome fear and adversity and envision ourselves as present members of his Dominion.
It may not seem to be true, as we struggle with divisions in families, communities, churches, nations of the world. The sword raises its ugly spectre, even as we seek to live as people of the Word, as people of peace—sheep among wolves. But Jesus’ teaching calls us to a logic that exceeds that of the world. It is an understanding that dwells at the heart of infinite paradox: we are God’s people, even in death. And our true life lies beyond the darkness that so many prefer to live in in this increasingly fractious world.
Cynthia Bourgeault writes in her book Mystical Hope (Cowley Press, 2001): “We have to get beyond linear, discursive thinking in order to access the realm of inspired visionary knowing where Christianity finally becomes fully congruent with its own highest truth, and its mystical treasures can be received into an awakened heart.” And it requires a soul-deep acceptance of Jesus’ assurances in this Gospel passage, even when they don’t seem to “compute” in our traditional ways of thinking.
If we lose our life, what is left? Jesus seems to be saying: the glowing kernel from which it was originally generated; the essence of what you have received from me, as a gift from the Father; the beginning of the New Life you were created for, which we will share eternally.

That’s something well worth dying for.
Mark Nepo in The Book of Awakening (Conari Press, 2000) tells this story: An aging Hindu master grew tired of his apprentice complaining, and so, one morning, sent him for some salt. When the apprentice returned, the master instructed the unhappy young man to put a handful of salt in a glass of water and then to drink it.
“How does it taste?” the master asked.
“Bitter,” spit out the apprentice.
The master chuckled and then asked the young man to take the same handful of salt and put it in the lake. The two walked in silence to the nearby shore, and once the apprentice swirled his handful of salt into the water, the old man said, “Now drink from the lake.”
As the water dripped down the young man’s chin, the master asked, “Now how does it taste?”
“Fresh,” remarked the apprentice.
“Do you taste the salt?” asked the master.
“No,” said the young man.
At this, the master sat beside this serious young man who so reminded him of himself, and took his hands, offering, “The pain of life is pure salt; no more, no less. The amount of pain in life remains the same, exactly the same. But the amount of bitterness we taste depends on the container we put the pain in. So when you are in pain, the only thing you can do is to enlarge your sense of things. Stop being a glass. Become a lake.”

As Bishop Michael Ramsey reminds us: “Live near to God, rejoicing in God’s providential care and you will be every hour and every minute in the presence of God who cares for the lilies and clothes the grass, and cares infinitely for you.”
[Consulted Isabel Anders via Synthesis]
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This is the blessing used at the conclusion of the Mass:
Let us go forth,
In the wisdom of our all-seeing Father,
In the patience of our all-loving brother,
In the truth of the all-knowing Spirit,
In the learning of the Apostles,
In the gracious guidance of the angels,
In the patience of the saints,
In the self-control of the martyrs.
Such is the path of all servants of Christ,
The path from death to eternal life.
(Celtic prayer in Synthesis, June 16, 2002)