INTRODUCTION
The title of my homily for this 21st Sunday in
Ordinary Time, Year C, is, “Doors.”
Reading today’s readings - and obviously today’s gospel -
the theme of doors should hit us.
My homily will have 2 parts - here and hereafter - doors
here and doors hereafter - especially THE DOOR -
or the Pearly Gates.
PART ONE: DOORS
HERE
We spend our lives opening and closing doors - going in
and out over thresholds and through door ways.
And we’ve all experienced doors that were locked and we didn’t have a key and
nobody opened up for us - when we rang the bell or knocked on the door - or
screamed from the sidewalk or front lawn.
Doors.
In a given lifetime - we’ve entered many different
classrooms, homes, churches, stores, states, countries, relationships.
They all have doors, pause, the need for keys, knobs,
passports, passwords….
We’ve heard the word, “Welcome!”
We’ve heard the word, “Closed” - sometimes with a “Sorry”
before it.
We’ve all been in situations - when we said to ourselves
or others, “Let’s get out of here” and we headed for the door.
We’ve all been in situations - hospital beds, meetings,
get togethers - when we’re screaming within - as we’re looking at the door, “When is this going to end.”
We’ve all wanted to make the team, get the job, continue
the relationship, and we’ve been shown the door.
Tears on our face and a torn heart - rejections - are human experiences.
Bummer.
HORROR STORIES
We know history.
Blacks, Italians, Irish, Latinos, Gay, Handicapped, Catholics,
Muslims need not apply.
We’ve seen bullies in the playgrounds of our youth. We’ve
had teachers and coaches whom we thought were unfair and played favorites.
We might have been right; we might have been wrong.
Either way - at
the time - it hurt - it pushed our, “It’s not fair!” button.
We all have our stories and our anecdotes and we’ve told
them a hundred times. Some are razor
blade experiences; some are popcorn experiences. Whichever, whatever, serious
or soft, they hit and hurt us and cut us at the time.
As a kid in Brooklyn I was on the Bay Ridge Robins - a
P.A.L. [Police Athletic League] baseball team - and one season, I got in to
play - for only one out. The coach played his younger brother every
game - except that last inning of the last game of the season. I’m still
holding onto that one - and mention it from time to time.
At the time it hurt - but the benefit was that I see
every kid and every player on the sidelines - ever since - not just the kids on
the field - and the court - but the substitutes who never seem to get into the
game. I love coaches who shorten the bench - play the subs - and give every kid
a chance.
I’ve also learned that I don’t know the score or the
whole story and not everyone sees life or the game as I do - or the other does.
Different strokes for different coaches - and teachers - shop stewards and
bosses.
As sort of as a contradiction, there was a time there - when
I ended up being a manager for our baseball team in the seminary. I remember keeping our pitcher - Bill Tuohy -
in for the entire game - till it was - 0 to 0 in the 10th inning. We
lost. Maybe Bill ran out of energy. Moreover, Bill ended up hurting his arm -
thanks to my mis-management.
That moment also comes back to me when I see Buck Showalter
take out a pitcher who is being shelled or the pinch hitter is a leftie and the
pitcher on the mound is a righty. I also like it when Buck Showalter in home
games keeps a starting pitcher in for one out or one hit in the next inning, so
he can go out and remove him and that pitcher can get a home field ovation.
So that’s part one of my thoughts about doors. Acceptance
and rejection, open and closed doors, welcome and “Get lost!” are part of life.
I learned that we need to learn about people at the door
- and try to be a welcoming person - to look them in the eye - and to step back
and let folks in before me.
There are two kinds of people: those who build us up and
make us feel part of the game - part of the scene - and we have something to
offer and there are those who don’t even notice us - or make us feel so, so
small.
As priest I have heard horror stories - so I ask the
question: “As priest am I responsible for the whole Catholic Church?” My answer
at one time there was “Yes” - now it’s “No.” But now the question is: “As a human being, am
I responsible for the whole human race?” Answer: “Yes. To make each person
welcome - noticed - respected - acknowledged - and treated with dignity.”
PART TWO: DOOR
TO THE HEREAFTER
Those are everyday doors.
The door we worry and wonder about is the door to eternal life.
But both are interconnected - the here is also about the
hereafter.
Did you notice and hear the words from today’s first
reading from Isaiah 66: 18-21?
Once more here it is - the whole first reading:
Thus says the LORD:
I know their works and their thoughts,
and I come to gather nations of every language;
they shall come and see my glory.
I will set a sign among them;
from them I will send fugitives to the nations:
to Tarshish, Put and Lud,
Mosoch, Tubal and Javan,
to the distant coastlands
that have never heard of my fame,
or seen my glory;
and they shall proclaim my glory
among the nations.
They shall bring all your brothers and sisters from all the nations
as an offering to the LORD,
on horses and in chariots, in carts,
upon mules and dromedaries,
to Jerusalem, my holy mountain,
says the LORD,
just as the Israelites bring their offering
to the house of the LORD in clean vessels.
Some of these I will take as priests and Levites, says the LORD.
The Word of the Lord.
Then we sang the Psalm Refrain “Go out to all the world and tell the good news.
As the New Orleans song and Negro Spiritual goes, “When
the saints come marching in, I want to be in their number.”
Jesus often talks about coming to the door - the entrance
into eternity.
For instance today’s gospel.
In today’s gospel from Luke Jesus tells us to enter
through the narrow gate.
Who wants to be standing outside and the door is locked?
I sense that we don’t worry about hell like we used to
worry about hell - but we still worry.
Salvation - redemption - making it - is a big time human
worry for every person.
There are enough horror stories around about going to
hell.
Dante’s Inferno is still on the book shelves.
There are enough imaginary stories and jokes about people
getting to heaven only to discover they are last and all kinds of other persons
are first or ahead of them.
I won’t mind being last. It will mean I made it.
There is the image of the Pearly Gate. There is the image
of St. Peter testing us with questions at that front door and gate.
We’re dealing here with Salvation, Redemption, Heaven,
Making it.
We don’t want to die and stand outside and be like the
person Jesus talks about in today’s gospel. We don’t want to be screaming,
“Lord, open the door for us.”
We don’t want to hear Jesus say, “I do not know where you
are from.”
Woo. We don’t want
to standing there wailing and grinding our teeth and seeing all these others
getting into heaven - and we’re on the outside.
CONCLUSION
Pope Francis has been talking about all this since he’s
become pope.
He told the Church to open up our doors - especially to
those who have felt it shut in their face - or they don’t like what’s happened
inside its doors - abuse, phonyism, put downs, what have you, and who have you?
Last Christmas I asked a relative, “How was Mass this
morning?” and he said he doesn’t go any more.
“Ooops,” I said, “What happened?”
He said, “I was sick and tired of Sunday after Sunday -
sermon after sermons - of hearing gays being bashed and blasted.”
I wonder if his
church was designated as one of the 10,000 churches that are “Doors of Mercy”.
I wonder if they sing in his church, “All are welcome.
All are welcome in this place.”
I don’t know about you, but I want to hear that song when
I’m heading for the doors of heaven. That’s what I hear Jesus singing and
saying. That’s what I hear - especially in the Gospel of Luke - especially Luke
15.
I was praying once and got to thinking about dying and going
to heaven. And a voice - a voice of God said,
“What happens if you don’t make it? What happens if you have too
merciful image of God - that I’m not like what you think I’m like.”
I paused and then said, “Well, God - then, the hell with you. I’ll go find the God
your Son Jesus told me about in Luke 15.”
I put my hand to my mouth and went, “Ooops!”
Then I took my hand away from my mouth and said, “ No,
I’ll find the God I’ve met in your Son Jesus, O Lord.”
NOTES
Picture on top by Ray K. Metzker, Venice, 1960
