Weekly Homily
“When the days for Jesus’ being taken up were fulfilled, he resolutely determined to journey to Jerusalem.” (Luke 9:51)
“SOUL-SURFING” – June 27, 2010
Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Luke 9:51-62
Fr. Robert deLeon, CSC
While journeys can be excitingly joyous affairs, they can also be dangerous. As one embarks for passage to a desired destination, the route may likely hold anxious and possibly perilous challenges for the adventurous traveler. Indeed, travel must be undertaken with the utmost care. Consider the following news clip that appeared several years ago:
“Barbara Walters did a story on gender roles in Kabul, Afghanistan, several years before the Afghan conflict. She noted that women customarily walked 5 paces behind their husbands. She recently returned to Kabul and observed that women still walk behind their husbands. From Ms. Walters’ vantage point, despite the overthrow of the oppressive Taliban regime, the women now seem to walk even further back behind their husbands and are happy to maintain the old custom. Ms. Walters approached one of the Afghani women and asked, ‘Why do you now seem happy with the old custom that you once tried so desperately to change?’ The woman looked Ms. Walters straight in the eyes and without hesitation, said ‘Land mines.’" (Original source unknown)
Yes, travel can be a dangerous venture as one delicately negotiates a roadway concealing land mines, be they real or proverbial. But what makes the journey worth the price is the desired goal. As one gingerly steps over and around the explosives along the way, one eye remains fixed on the prize, the destination that makes it all worthwhile. It’s the lesson Jesus offers us today.
The very first sentence of the gospel passage sets an ominous tone. “When the days for Jesus’ being taken up were fulfilled, he resolutely determined to journey to Jerusalem.” (Luke 9:51) I can picture Jesus setting his jaw in determination at the prospect of the difficult journey that will, in fact, have lethal results. But it is a journey that must be made because the final destination (heaven) is worth the price of the trip (death). Indeed, it’s the journey each of us must make in our following of Jesus. Try as we might, we just can’t get to heaven without first dying. It’s the only route. And so we pray that, like Jesus, we can set our own jaws in hope-filled determination as we focus more on the glorious destination than on the dread journey.
But that journey we’ll one day make to the heavenly Jerusalem may be far off – and it’s definitely a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Meanwhile, there are numerous other non-lethal but definitely perilous journeys we must make on this earth. And most of them do not involve actual physical travel. I’m thinking of the challenge of negotiating human relationships – another sort of dangerous passage for sure. And there are land mines all along the roadway! It’s likely we’ve all stepped on a few already and bear the psychic bruises that testify to a poorly chosen word, an incredulous facial expression, a dismissive gesture.
Surely that’s why we so often go out of our way to avoid anything that may lead to a land mine explosion. We tread gently as we approach one another, measuring words, masking expressions, obscuring gestures. And often it’s the truth that suffers, a hard truth that needs to be spoken, a truth that may lead both speaker and hearer into a deeper, life-giving relationship. But the land mines! How they scare us off! And so we don’t speak the words most needing to be spoken, the words most needing to be heard. Avoidance is simpler, safer. Consider a poet’s take on this most common of human dysfunctions:
“The elephant in the room that isn't there – / He's hard to walk around. He's big and grey. / My Mummy says it's not polite to stare. / He never moves. He can't fit in a chair, / Just standing there. He's always in the way, / The elephant in the room that isn't there. / Sometimes, at night, I send a little prayer / For God to shoo him out so I can play. / My Mummy says it's not polite to stare / And if I do, she ruffles up my hair / And asks me what I learned in school today. / The elephant in the room that isn't there / Has squashed us all apart. It isn't fair, / But if I ask about him what they say / Is: 'Mummy says it's not polite to stare.' / The grown-ups are pretending not to care – / We never ask how long he wants to stay. / Dear elephant in the room who isn't there, / My Mummy says it's not polite to stare.” (Original Source unknown)
Indeed, the phrase “the elephant in the room” has become common parlance for the studied avoidance of a topic that is on everyone’s mind but too seemingly dangerous to broach. And over time, much more energy is expended – wasted, surely – in talking around the topic than in dealing directly with it in a sensitive, compassionate way.
The gospel passage we hear today begins with the assertion that the journey from earth to heaven will be difficult. “When the days for Jesus’ being taken up were fulfilled, he resolutely determined to journey to Jerusalem.” (Luke 9:51) And we’ll all get to make the same journey for sure! But all those smaller journeys before the great departure – what of them? What of the opportunities for deepening human relationships that may well bring to earth something of heaven’s joy were we courageous enough to speak the truth? While avoidance is the easier way to meet the challenge and, sadly, the route more often taken, doesn’t Jesus this day encourage us to “take the road less traveled,” the road that, though fraught with land mines, will bring us nearer heaven?
Had Barbara Walters’ interview with that Afghani woman continued, we might have learned that fear of land mines had not at all deterred her from her daily travels. Continuing to follow her husband at a distance, she was confident that either the journey would be safe for both of them or, worst case scenario, he’d go to heaven first. Now isn’t that exactly what Jesus has done for us?