This
time every year, we remember in special way the precious gift of life which God
has given us, as we participate in a march – either in person or in spirit and
prayer – to convince our fellow Americans of the sanctity of all human life,
born and unborn.
And
yet, as precious as this gift is, and as important as it is for us to defend
its sanctity, Jesus does not allude to our earthly life as the treasure
buried in the field or as the pearl of great price (Mt 13:44-46). After all, the person who found the treasure
and the merchant who found the pearl already had life when they discovered
something much, much more valuable, something for which they gave their all to
obtain.
In
this same way, martyrs like St. Agnes, whom we celebrate today, knew that their
lives on earth, as precious as they seemed, are mere dross compared to the gold
that is eternal life with Jesus. Life on
earth is certainly good, but life in the kingdom, life with Jesus, life in
relationship with the one who offers unconditional love, profound joy, and
perpetual peace, is truly priceless.
This
is why Jesus insists that we must be “born again, begotten of water and the
Spirit.”(Jn 3:3-5) This is why Jesus says
that “whoever loses his life will save it.”
(Lk 9:24) This is why the people in the today’s parables eagerly “sell
all that they have” to gain what is worth so much more. This also explains the rich young man’s
reaction to Jesus’ command to give away all his possessions and follow him. (Mk
10:17-22). He goes away not angry at
Jesus’ words. Rather, he is deeply
saddened, for he knows in his heart the great value of what he is turning down,
but he cannot find the courage to pay the price.
The
good news of Jesus is that he not only offers us eternity with him in heaven
when our earthly lives come to an end, but that life in the kingdom is
available to us at this very moment – “the kingdom of God is at hand!” (Mk
1:15) Jesus invites me – as he invites
you and every other human being – to live intimately with him at this very
moment and for all eternity. Oh, and one
more thing: his invitation includes an
RSVP.
For
most of my life, I didn’t get this at all.
Surely, I thanked God that he did not ask me to die a martyr’s
death. I thanked God that my parents
brought me to baptism as a young baby and taught me right from wrong. I thanked God for blessing me with
intelligence, the ability to work hard, and the opportunity to earn a very
comfortable life. I especially thanked
God for a loving family with whom to share this life.
But
I had no relationship with Jesus or with God. I had not returned the RSVP. I saw no need to do so. I believed Jesus had died for me many years
ago and that God had given me tools to succeed, but it was my effort, my belief
in Jesus, my dutiful obedience to God’s commandments and to the Church’s laws,
and my good works and charity that would ultimately result in a favorable
judgment when – presumably many, many years from now – I would be face-to-face
with St. Peter at the pearly gates.
Then,
one day – it was a Tuesday, as I remember – I realized my mistake. I was a baby deacon at the time, only
ordained a few years, driving to my job at IBM in Armonk, but mostly thinking about
a homily I was to give that weekend on Luke 15 – the lost sheep, the lost coin
and the lost son. It seemed an easy
lesson – God will seek us out even if we are silly or stupid enough to wander
away, and there will be great rejoicing when we are found. Not that I felt any personal need for being
found – after all, I was the deacon, wasn’t I?
The
morning tea wasn’t even cold before my ruminations were rudely cast aside. An eerie hush fell over the office as we were
transfixed in horror at the sights unfolding on our computers, for it was
September 11, 2001. Work became
meaningless, and we rushed home to be with our families in our grief. On the drive home, my grief quickly turned to
anger. I was angry at the injustice of
it all, angry that we who were so good, who were so innocent, who worked so
hard, could be subjected to such horror and pain. I was angry with God. I wondered what we could possibly do to
extract justice from such great injustice, to appropriately punish such great evil,
to emphatically demonstrate to the world that these despicable acts could not
be tolerated.
And
then, in a way I had never heard before, God invited me once again, asking me
once more for my long-delayed RSVP. I
found myself as the older son in the parable of the prodigal son, indignantly
standing outside the kingdom, fuming that I deserved more from my father –
certainly much, much more than my wastrel brother received – for “not once have
I disobeyed your commands.” (Lk 15:29) I
saw how little I understood that God had always offered me so much more than I
could have possibly earned or imagined – “everything I have is yours,” he tells
me. (Lk 15:31).
Since
that day, I have tried hard to recognize and to treasure this astounding gift, this
pearl of great price; to live in intimacy with Jesus, giving away my life of
self-reliance, self-righteousness and self-gratification to place all of my
trust in him who made the heavens and the earth.
Every
once in a while – and maybe more often than that – I still find myself slipping
back and trying to take back a bit of my old life. But I am encouraged by the ancient martyrs
like Agnes and today’s martyrs like James Foley and the martyrs of Syria and
Iraq, and most importantly, by Jesus who is constantly at my side, reminding me
of the foolishness of trading away the priceless for the mere trifle of my ego
and pride.
Please
pray for me – as I will always pray for you – that on every day and in every
way, we live in intimacy with Jesus, recognizing the pearl that is worth so much
more than anything we could possibly earn, so much more than even our very
lives.
