January 23, 2005: Light and Brick

The Third Sunday in Ordinary Time



St. Paul appeals to us today not to be divided: I urge you, brothers and sisters, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you agree in what you say, and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be united in the same mind and in the same purpose. After all, we’re all children of God—brothers and sisters in the Lord. Doesn’t that mean that we’re supposed to be with God and with each other—at least when it comes to what we believe and how we live?

Ha! Why then does it seem that life is often one conflict after another? Why are people always opposing each another, always fighting and bitter and angry? Even in our own families with the people we love the most in the whole world! Even in our own churches.

It’s almost as if some of us who hear this plea from St. Paul are asking the Robert De Niro question: “Are you talking to me?”

Jesus tells us to repent of our disunity, our division, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand. God doesn’t want this kind of evil in our life. According to the Scriptures, this is the stuff that makes God angry.

So we’re angry—and God’s angry. But God’s anger, His wrath, is very different from man’s.

Human anger typically flares up from something inside ourselves. It’s self-driven. If we don’t watch out, it can escalate into explosions of temper and violence. We get ticked off because we feel we’ve been overlooked, neglected, or cheated. This is the anger of man. It is not, however, the anger of God.

God doesn’t get angry because He doesn’t get His way. He gets angry because disobedience always results in self-destruction. What kind of father sits by and watches his child hurt himself?

The Lord often tries to get our attention with His light. When we’re self-absorbed in our frustration or rage, it’s as though we’re sitting in the dark. But listen to the words of the Gospel: The people who sit in darkness have seen a great light. On those dwelling in a land overshadowed by death, light has arisen.

“Christ the Light” is what we chant at the beautiful Easter Vigil ceremony. Turning to Jesus can dispel the darkness and the hurt.

But if you’re really, really angry, it’s entirely possible that you wouldn’t even see God’s light if He walked right up to you and shined it in your eye.

So then, my friends, God has to resort to more drastic measures to save you from yourself.

About ten years ago, a young and rather successful businessman named Josh was driving down a Chicago neighborhood street. He was driving a sleek, black, 16-cylinder Jaguar XKE that was only two months old.

He watched for kids darting out from between parked cars—as kids are prone to do in the city streets. So Josh slowed down when he saw a pair of legs between two cars. As his car passed the opening where the legs were, a brick sailed out and—boom!—smashed into the Jag’s shiny side door.

Screech! He slammed on the brakes, threw it into reverse, and the tires spun madly as the Jaguar lurched back to the spot where the brick was thrown. Josh jumped out of the car, grabbed the kid and slammed him up against a parked car. He got right in the kid’s face, “What was that all about? Who do you think you are?” Getting angrier by the second, Josh screamed even more as he throttled the kid, “That’s my new Jag! That brick is going to cost you plenty. Why did you throw it?”

“Please . . . please, mister, I’m sorry,” pleaded the kid. “I didn’t know what else to do. I threw the brick because no one else would stop.”

Tears were streaming down the boy’s face and dripping off his chin as he pointed around the parked car. “It’s my brother, mister,” he cried. “He fell out of his wheelchair and I can’t lift him up.” Sobbing, the boy asked the businessman, “Please, would you help me get him back into his wheelchair? He’s too heavy for me. He needs to be sitting in his chair.”

Well… Josh was stunned to the bone. He tried desperately to swallow the lump in his throat. He helped the boy stand the wheelchair back upright, and the two of them lifted his brother back into the chair.

It was a long, long walk back to the sleek, shiny, black 16-cyclinder Jaguar XKE—a long and slow walk. Now, Josh never did fix the side door of that car. It reminded him not to go through life so fast or so cock-sure of everything that someone has to throw a brick at him to get his attention.

It’s kind of funny to picture the Lord with a light in one hand and a brick in the other. But He loves us so much, that He’s prepared to do just about anything to save us from ourselves.

Have a look at how you’re living your life these days. Then repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand. Don’t make Him use the brick.

Amen.



Today’s Readings:
Isaiah 8, 23 – 9, 3
Psalm 27
1 Corinthians 1, 10–17
Matthew 4, 12–23