Twenty-Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time

You may have heard the story about the abbess of a rural monastery who was dying. All the nuns were gathered. One gave the abbess some milk from their dairy farm with plenty of Hennessy brandy in it, to ease her pain. The abbess took a sip and perked up. One of the nuns asked for the abbess’s dying words. The abbess took a really big drink, smiled and said,” Don’t ever sell that cow.” It's amazing what you can find in monasteries.

The word of God from Isaiah takes us to the 6th century before Jesus. The Hebrews will be freed from Babylonia so they can begin rebuilding Jerusalem. The author challenges the Hebrews to seek God in their everyday lives, to call upon God. And then the author speaks of the complete otherness of God: God’s ways and thoughts are not ours. The author may prompt us to ask: When we hear the word “God,” what do we think of? The bible gives us many splendid images. A walking companion in Genesis, a God who shares his wisdom, a God as tender as a mother in Isaiah. “Can a mother forget her child? And even if she should, I will never forget you.”

In the New Testament, the image of God in the parables of the good shepherd and the prodigal son are balanced with the image in the parable of the last judgment.  Yes, there are many splendid biblical images—yet all fail to capture fully the inexhaustible reality of God who loves us unconditionally.

Paul in his letter to the Christian community at Philippi in Greece speaks about his fondness for this community. Here he writes from prison in Turkey. Paul's life hangs in the balance.  He doesn’t know whether he’ll be executed or freed.  He’s torn between wanting to die so he can be with Jesus Christ, and wanting to live so he can continue ministering to the communities he founded. In the end, Paul is confident that he will be set free and he urges the Philippians to live a life worthy of their calling. Paul challenges us to do the same.

In the Gospel according to Matthew, Jesus speaks about workers in a vineyard. Some are hired at the beginning of the day while others are hired at the end.  Yet all receive the same day’s wage. We might complain this isn’t fair. Shouldn’t those who worked 12 hours be paid more than those who worked only one hour? From a human point of view, it’s not fair. But the parable is not about fairness. It’s about generosity: God’s generosity to us. Jesus challenges us to be generous, especially with our time and talent and yes, our treasure if we can.

I've been reflecting these last few weeks on the spirituality of holy men and women whose lives and writings can help nourish us spiritually, and lift us out of our routine into a deeper life with God. Today I highlight Blessed John Henry Newman, the influential 19th century priest, popular preacher, writer and theologian whose writings introduced the spirit of the Second Vatican Council a century later.

Newman spent the first half of his life as an Anglican (aka Episcopalian in the U.S.) and the second as a Catholic. Born in London, he entered Oxford University at age fifteen, and eventually served as vicar of the university church for seventeen years. He published eight volumes of sermons, a classic in Christian spirituality.

The high point of Newman's Anglican career was his influential role in the Oxford movement, an intellectual effort to return to the sources of our faith--the bible, the sacraments, belief statements, authority in the Church and the apostolic succession of bishops.

Newman's research eventually convinced him that Rome was the home of the true Church. In 1845, Newman was received into the Catholic Church. Two years later he was ordained a Catholic priest. Returning to England, Newman founded Oratory houses in Birmingham and London and then served as rector of the Catholic University of Ireland, which inspired his landmark book “The Idea of a University.”

Newman wrote 40 books and 21,000 letters that survive. Most famous are his “Apologia Pro Vita Sua” (A Defense of His Life), his spiritual autobiography, and his classic “Essay on The Development of Christian Doctrine,” describing the continuity between what was revealed and believed in first century Christianity and what is believed now.

The fullness of revelation, for Newman, resides in the person of Jesus Christ. Belief statements try to capture, but never fully, the inexhaustible reality of the God-man. Hence, Christianity must develop just as we grow. We change yet we're the same person. So too with Christianity. And there must be an authority on the truth or falsity of these developments.

Newman also was a supporter of Christian unity at a time when Christianity was divided and religious bigotry commonplace. In particular, he was a pioneer in emphasizing the active role of the laity in the Church: the “Spirit dwells in the Church and in the hearts of the faithful as in a temple.” 

Newman's writings reflect the spirit of the Second Vatican Council (1962-65). The Church is always reform-able, holy yet made of sinners. Revelation is a person, Jesus Christ. In other words, God reveals himself to us in Jesus and we describe this revelation in belief statements, e. g. the Nicene creed. Word and sacrament mutually reinforce one another. The Eucharist is “the summit toward which the activity of the Church is directed” and “the font from which all her power flows.”

In special recognition for Newman’s dedicated work, Pope Leo XIII made him a Cardinal Deacon in 1879. Newman died in 1890. His epitaph read, “Ex umbris et imaginibus in veritatem.” (Out of shadows and images into truth).

In relation to today’s word of God, I highlight two awesome prayers by Newman: the first about purpose in life.

“God has created me to do Him some definite service. He has committed some work to me which He has not committed to another. I have my mission. I may never know it in this life, but...I shall do His work....Therefore, I will trust Him, whatever, wherever I am. I can never be thrown away. If I am in sickness, my sickness may serve Him, in perplexity, my perplexity may serve Him...God knows what He is about. He may take away my friends. He may throw me among strangers. He may make me feel desolate, make my spirits sink, hide my future from me. Still, He knows what He is about.”

The second prayer holds one of my favorite images of God: light. Newman’s poem “The Pillar of the Cloud,” written while he recovered from severe illness, was made a hymn. Here is a very recognizable verse of Newman’s poem:

“Lead, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom,
Lead Thou me on!
The night is dark, and I am far from home,
Lead Thou me on!
Keep Thou my feet;
I do not ask to see
the distant scene;
one step enough for me....
So long Your power hath blest me, sure it still will lead me on.”

May all of us find purpose in life and may the light of Jesus Christ lead us on...into our heavenly dwelling place.