December 12, 2004: In the Footsteps of the Prophets

The Third Sunday of Advent




St. Teresa of Ávila was an extraordinary woman. She grew up in Spain during the 16th century and was one of ten very outgoing and talented children. Teresa lost her mother when she was just a teenager, and her governess encouraged her in her religion, so Teresa received the habit of the Carmelites. She was blessed with mystical experiences, but these special gifts alienated her religious sisters who were jealous or distrustful of her. In fact, the more Teresa tried to follow the way of perfection in Christ, the more she was vilified and attacked. While she had peace on the inside because she was doing the Lord’s will, on the outside, life was a misery for many long years.

There’s a great story about St. Teresa. One time, she and some companions were making a journey on horseback. The weather was cold, damp and dreadful. As the small party was fording a stream, Teresa’s horse bucked and threw her on her rump in the icy water. Through tears of frustration, she cried out, “Why, Lord?” And Jesus answered her: “Teresa, that’s how I treat my friends.” And Teresa shot back, “No wonder you have so few of them!”

Was Teresa’s experience unique? No way! From the beginning, the prophets and the saints never had it easy.

Moses took his life in his hands when he went before Pharaoh. His own people didn’t appreciate his efforts to free them, but instead hated him for disturbing the comfort and familiarity of their slavery! He put up with their whining and relapses into wickedness for 40 years, and the people finally got his goat so badly that Moses gave into his famous outburst in the wilderness and wasn’t even allowed to step into the Promised Land.

Then there was Elijah who was universally detested. Kings wanted to do him in because he wouldn’t tell them what they wanted to hear. “No,” he said, “I’m not going to lie to you and promise you military victories and God’s blessings on your crops. Hear the truth! You’re sinners, and you’re going to be punished!” You see, he wouldn’t play the politically-correct game of his day, and he suffered for it almost constantly . . . even though his prophecies always proved correct. How do you think Elijah felt? Was he glad to be right—to be on God’s side? In one famous passage in First Kings, Elijah sat down under a tree and prayed to die then and there.

The prophet Jeremiah had similar experiences. I can just picture him shouting up to heaven, “Come on, Lord. Shoot me now!”

And John the Baptist, once again featured in this week’s Gospel, couldn’t help speaking out whenever he saw sin. He also didn’t win many friends and eventually wound up decapitated.

Even Jesus Christ, the Son of God Himself, angered the world. Yes, the people loved His healings, His miracles, His beautiful sermons . . . but not so much that they were willing to accept Him and respond to His call for them to amend their lives. That they couldn’t stand. Christ was murdered to silence Him.

St. Paul—well, we all know what he endured. He suffered condemnation, defamation, physical and emotional abuse, beatings, imprisonment, and finally martyrdom.

Ditto for the apostles, every Pope and bishop of the early church, and thousands upon thousands of bishops, priests, nuns, and holy lay people in every place and age from the time of Christ up until the present day.

It’s even be known to happen in St. Paul’s Parish in Danville, Illinois, when people don’t like particularly irksome parts of God’s truth preached at them or their children!

Why all this turmoil in the Church? I guess because it’s human nature to shoot the messenger bearing news that makes you squirm. But I like to remember the parting advice from one of our seminary professors: “If all the people like you, then you’re not preaching the Gospel!”

According to Tertullian’s famous quote, “The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church”—in other words, the suffering of God’s holy ones is like nourishment meant to feed and pump up the Mystical Body of Christ. . . like water makes the plants grow.

And eventually, the growth will be so lush that it will usher in the Kingdom of God in all its fullness. A few are asked to suffer so that many, many more may be saved. That is how strong God’s love is.

But, oh! What a cost! And it’s taking so long!

Not only are God’s people who are striving to be holy suffering, but so is the world that still seems to be steeped in sin and misery and darkness.

But a ray of hope breaks through like today’s rose vestments in the midst of our purple season. St. James tells us today, “Be patient, brothers and sisters, until the coming of the Lord.” Like the farmer who has to wait patiently for his crop to come in—and hopefully not be lost to floods or drought or disease… like the cook who has to wait patiently for the pot to boil… so we, too, must be patient. “Make your hearts firm, because the coming of the Lord is at hand.”

James goes on to tell us not to complain about one another. How’s that for a bit of humor, especially in the Church today? Don’t complain about each other! Who doesn’t complain about something or someone? It’s unbecoming enough to complain about things in the world—taxes, crime, poverty, spammers, those bums in Washington or Springfield, lawyers, doctors, your favorite football team . . . but to complain about Mother Church? Priests and bishops? The Holy Father? Our brothers and sisters in the Lord Jesus with whom we not only break bread but share the Most Holy Eucharist every week? Oh my. . .

“. . . that you may not be judged,” adds St. James. Yes, we must not forget that when we stand before Our Lord on that dreadful day we will have to account for every word.

“Take as an example of hardship and patience, brothers and sisters, the prophets who spoke in the name of the Lord.”

These men and women—some tough as nails, some reduced to quivering jelly in the end—are our reminders. Jesus told us flat out that to get into heaven, we must go through the narrow gate. It can be an unpleasant, and frequently brutal journey—but we must be filled with great hope that the Lord will help us succeed on our way. It is His desire that we succeed.

So like our illustrious forebears, out of love for God’s people, we must dare to speak the truth fearlessly, no matter how rough the road.

And for those of us on the receiving end, if only we could soften our stony hearts and let some of His love and light flow in . . .





Today’s Readings:

Isaiah 35, 1–6 and 10
Psalm 146
James 5, 7–10 (Key Reading)
Matthew 11, 2–11