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“Jesus said, ‘Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes, and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets! They devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers.’” (Mark 12:38-40)
“SOUL-SURFING” – November 8, 2009
Thirty-second Sunday in Ordinary Time
Mark 12:38-44
Fr. Robert deLeon, CSC
Altamont Orchards provided the still warm cider donuts. Lauri, my sister, provided the piping coffee while Shane, my 12-year old nephew, provided the morning’s entertainment. Though he usually preferred to take refuge at the computer rather than engage in adult conversation, this morning he remained at the kitchen table, less for our company, more for the scrumptious donuts. Munching away as Lauri and I discussed topics of little apparent interest to him (healthcare reform, swine flu, economic recovery), he never even looked up from the donut in his hand until Lauri re-focused conversation on something more immediate, asking me, “So, what’s been happening at the hospital since we saw you last Saturday?” With that, Shane’s attachment to his donut weakened as he raised eyes and interest. Having spent time as a newborn in our neonatal ICU and years later in our pediatric unit with kidney trouble, he could connect with the hospital stories I weekly offered at his mom’s kitchen table.
Now, I’m quick to add that when my sister and nephew ask me about hospital happenings, I’m very selective with what I share. Of course, I never mention patient names and rarely relate events I think might upset or trouble them. Usually I share a humorous dialogue with a patient or staff member. On this particular Saturday morning, though, Shane seemed eager to contribute to the conversation. Before I could even think of an incident to share, he jumped right in. Donut crumbs falling from his chin, eyes widened as he spoke. “Yep, I know your hospital a little too well. Remember, I had surgery there for twisted intentions when I was a baby.”
Lauri and I choked on mouthfuls of coffee at the verbal gaffe. Confused at our laughter, she asked him to repeat what he’d just said, and he did. “I had surgery for twisted intentions.” Then he got it! Donut chunks flew from his mouth as a wave of his arm overturned a glass of milk on the table. When the hilarity subsided, he corrected himself with the assumed dignity of an office-seeking politician. “Please excuse me. I misspoke. I meant to say I had surgery as a baby for twisted intestines.” Then the three of us got hysterical all over again.
Twisted intentions: it’s the very theme Jesus addresses in the gospel passage we hear today as he offers his followers a critique of the leaders of his day while commending to their emulation the generosity of the poor widow. “Jesus said, ‘Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes, and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets! They devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers.’” (Mark 12:38-40)
Were the scribes evil men? I don’t believe so. Did they purposely mislead people? I don’t think so. Did they succumb to twisted intentions? The certainly did! They fell prey to the addictive effects of wielding power, proving the later oft-quoted words of British historian Lord Acton (1834-1902), “Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely.” While Jesus points to the moral corruption of the civil and religious leaders of his own day, in our time we need only pick up any newspaper or tune in to any TV news program to find the very same problem. Indeed, “twisted intentions” is a disease endemic to the human condition; holding even the smallest iota of power renders one susceptible to this lethal condition.
Ironically, on the very morning that my nephew Shane mistook his intestines for his intentions, I observed the simplest tableau at a hospital bedside that bespoke the purity of heart that Jesus commends in today’s gospel passage. While warning his followers away from the power-wielding scribes, Jesus turns their attention to the poor widow who so trustingly deposits her life’s security in the treasury. I saw such an act of trust in our surgical ICU, a badly injured trucker entrusting his life into the hands of a very young nurse.
Before I came to know him as Ethan the nurse, I knew him as Ethan the bass guitarist, member of the music group that provided sometimes ear-splitting accompaniment at the Sunday evening youth Mass I weekly celebrated. A high schooler back then, I was a bit stunned several years later to discover him working nights in our ICU as a patient care assistant. “Gaining experience, paying bills,” he explained to me. Then, in what seemed a flash, Ethan had finished nursing school, passed his state boards and had become a licensed RN. While I surely felt old, mostly I felt proud. Here was a kid I’d weekly preached to about making a positive difference in the world. And now I got to see him actually doing it.
It was about sunrise that morning when I passed an ICU cubicle and spied Ethan at a bedside. Unseen at the doorway, I was just about to toss a “Good morning” into the room when I heard other words hoarsely uttered by the broken body in the bed. “Please don’t let me die,” I heard the broken man say to Ethan. I watched as my former bass guitarist very deliberately leaned in close, took the man’s hand in both of his and quietly replied, “I won’t.”
The snapshot of that moment remains vivid in my memory: a scared, broken man reaching heavenward with a desperate plea best addressed to God, “Please don’t let me die.” A young man, his nurse, hand meeting hand, eyes locking in trust, speaks as God’s earthly agent, “I won’t.” Such a simple tableau of compassion -- so rare in a world fraught with twisted intentions.