Recognition and Hospitality
Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Scripture Readings
What keeps us from opening our hearts to others? It’s fear, isn’t it? But fear of what, after all? Fear of being hurt? Fear of looking foolish? Fear of doing or saying the wrong thing? Fear of being taken advantage of? At times, our fear could come from any or all of these. In fact, if we were to boil these down and distill them into their common cause, I think we’d find that all of them arose from a fear of not living up to expectations—our own, or others’ expectations of us. Our own expectations are based on an idealized self-image that we’ve adopted and nurtured over years. And the first place those expectations get planted is in our own homes. It was planted and molded by our caregivers, our families—native or adopted. It was pruned and constricted by rules and regulations, laws and threats of punishment from everyone in authority over us all the way up to God himself. Sometimes it seems as though the safest way to live is not to open ourselves to others at all.
Then comes Jesus to tell us that that’s no way to live at all. As a matter of fact, that’s not really living. He refused to live that way, and he called us to follow him, to take him as our model, and to learn to open up, to let others in, and even to go and reach out to others. That, my friends, is what today’s readings are all about.
The gospel reading begins with a bold and shocking statement: loving our families more than Jesus makes us unworthy disciples. What’s this “love” he’s talking about? Surely, he didn’t mean not to love them, after all, there’s even a commandment of the Law that says to “honor your father and your mother.” What he means by loving them more is to allow their expectations to control your life. Jesus preaches a radical kind of freedom—the freedom to respond only to the voice and guidance of the Holy Spirit within you.
Saint Paul, in the Second Reading from his letter to the Romans, expands on this same theme. He writes “[Christ] died to sin once and for all;… consequently, you too must think of yourselves as dead to sin and living for God in Christ Jesus.” What does Paul mean by “sin”? For him, sin refers to the inability of us humans to live up to full obedience to the law. Once again, Paul is pointing out our inability to live up to external expectations even—and especially—when we attribute those expectations to God.
What’s the answer, then? The answer is to let go of the illusion that there is some kind of ideal “you” that you are expected to achieve. It means putting to death that unreasonable set of ideals you’ve been striving to achieve. When Jesus says “whoever does not take up his cross and follow me is not worthy of me.” That cross Jesus speaks of is not our pains and annoyances, troubles and difficulties. No. The cross is the instrument of execution. It means accepting that our self-image, which we cling to so fiercely, has been put to death. Doesn’t he say, in the very next breath, “Whoever finds his life—his self—will lose it and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it?” In other words, the way out, the way to God, is through putting to death our self-will.
That’s what the whole second reading is about. “Are you not aware that we who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We’ve already died. Our selfish self-interest has been put to death. Past tense. All those expectations we think we need to live up to are dead, and our futile attempts to continue to live up to them are a waste of time and energy, “Just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might live in newness of life.” “Newness of life” means a different life, not a modification of the old one.
This new life that we have—whether or not we’re prepared to accept it—is a life of radical freedom from fear. Freedom from the fear of not living up to any expectations other than the expectation that we fulfill our mission, and that is to love the Lord our God with our whole mind and heart and soul and strength, and our neighbor as ourselves. That means sharing with them the life and love that we ourselves have received. That is the good news, and recognizing the grace and freedom we have received is our repentance—our metanoia—our change of mind and heart.
What that means for us is the message of the second half of today’s gospel. Dying to our selfish self-interest and our need to live up to everybody’s expectations gives us the fruits of radical freedom. The first fruit is that of discernment. That means the ability to recognize the presence and power of God that permeates our world and takes flesh even today in his disciples—the holy men and women—who live among us. Without our newness of life, we fail to recognize those who come to us bearing God’s love. Without that recognition, the second fruit of our newness of life gets neglected. That fruit is hospitality—the ability and willingness to give of ourselves with open hearts to others. See how the Shunammite woman recognized the Prophet Elisha and provided for him out of the pure goodness of her heart? Recognition leads to hospitality. And see how in the gospel Jesus tells us that if we recognize a disciple and offer them a cold cup of water—not just something we grabbed from the tap—it has great value.
So, there it is. As followers of Jesus, baptized into his death and resurrection, we have put to death our struggles to live up to others’ expectations and the fears that go with it. We’re free to open our hearts to others and to recognize in them the holy men and women who they are. And as disciples with open hearts, we cannot but provide for them, in whatever small or great way we are able. No hospitality, no kindness, however small, is without immense value. The love that we share, after all, is not ours alone because, as Saint Paul said, “It is no longer I who live but Christ who lives in me.”
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