THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE BEING ANGRY

A SERMON FOR THE SUNDAY WITHIN THE OCTAVE OF CORPUS CHRISTI

We learn from a very early age not to get Dad mad.  When he comes home from work, he’d better not find our toys scattered all over the floor, or our drinks spilled on his favorite chair; he’d better get a good report from Mom that we haven’t been causing her agita.  We learn to do this for one simple reason: we fear the consequences if he isn’t happy with us.  A good father knows how to follow the advice of Teddy Roosevelt—to walk softly and carry a big stick.  He is kind, even gentle when appropriate, but behind all his usual congeniality there’s another kind of love—the tough love that translates into anger—and that his children want to avoid at all cost.  There’s a reason behind this, of course, and it’s all done to train his children to become obedient, loving and responsible members of the family.  Meanwhile, we learn one of life’s most important lessons—that our actions have consequences, and that when we’re good we’re rewarded, and when we’re naughty we’re punished.

A father should instill, therefore, a certain amount of fear in his children.  If he does it right, their fear will be born out of respect for his laws and paternal love for us.  If he’s a bad father, they will fear him all the more, although then it’s most likely the fear of punishment that’s the most influential cause.  Fathers who mete out disproportionate and even violent punishment based on their mood, their lack of control, their drinking habits or whatever, instill the kind of fear that constitutes abuse, sometimes physical, always mental.   This type of fear is not a good fear.  It’s totally different from the virtuous fear we have of a good father.  A good father we fear to upset because we love him, we respect him, we know we deserve the punishments he gives us, and that it is we who are at fault because we have put him in a position where the only thing left for him to do is to punish us.

Our Father in heaven is no different in this respect from any good father here in this world.  He is always loving, and provides us with all the good things we need, from the air we breathe to the loving family we live with, from our good health to a good breakfast.  All good things come from above, from our loving Father in heaven.  Sometimes he might take away certain things from us, not as a punishment so much as to teach us a lesson.  We may lose a job, for example, and be reduced to temporary poverty so that we can learn the value of prioritizing the necessities of life, distinguishing them from the luxuries we can do without, losing some of our attachment to the value of material things.  Or maybe we become sick so that we can be reminded of our mortality and that we need to do more to make sure we save our souls.  When these deprivations occur, we should not curse our Father for taking them away.  We should thank him for the opportunity our new reduced state provides, and we should continue to thank him for all the other good things we still have.  The important thing to realize is that these deprivations are not necessarily “punishments.”  But there will come a time when God the Father really does come home again, to judge the quick and the dead, and his justice will be that of a terrible swift sword.  We always hope for his mercy, of course, but we must fear his justice.  Because if we haven’t behaved sufficiently well, he will punish us.  He’ll punish us with the biggest stick you’ve ever seen.

Our fear should not be put off until Judgment Day.  It should be applied, here and now, to every thought, word and deed we ever have.  We should be afraid, very afraid, and not so much on the punishment we surely deserve, but rather that we might possibly offend God at any given moment.  All our choices, all our decisions in life, everything should be based on the awful possibility that we might offend this loving Father who has been the source of everything good in our life.  We should fear offending him not just because we fear the loss of heaven and the pains of hell, as we say in the Act of Contrition, but because our Father is infinitely good and deserving of all our love.  In the Sacrament of Confirmation, one of the gifts of the Holy Ghost we receive is “Fear of the Lord.”  This fear is a good and healthy fear based on our love of God, knowing that any real punishment we might receive from God is one we would deserve.  He doesn’t get angry for no reason.

Today’s Gospel is a parable.  It tells the story of a man who made a great supper.  Let’s get right to the point here, and explain that this man who makes the supper is our Father in heaven.  And the great supper he makes is the Mass.  The Last Supper of his Son on earth was the first of these “great suppers”, and yes, it was and still is a “great” supper, because it is the greatest gift that God ever gave us.  It is the gift of salvation, the gift of the Mass.  Salvation comes from the Mass, because the Mass is the re-enactment of his Son’s Sacrifice of Calvary, the shedding of his Precious Blood for our sins, the re-opening of the gates of Paradise to us unworthy sinners.  That Precious Blood we receive in Communion is the Blood of the new and everlasting covenant between God the Father and us his children, not merely a symbol, but the Real Presence of his Son’s Body and Blood, his own quintessential divinity.  What greater gift could there ever be?

God the Father asks very little from us with respect to the Mass.  He invites us to attend it.  Just once a week.  And he invites us to partake in this Supper by eating the food he gives us, by receiving Holy Communion, at least once a year.  Even this we have a hard time with.  Like naughty children who can’t be bothered to clean up our toys, by doing a few little chores around the house, we find excuses to neglect our Father’s wishes.  We hardly ever bother going to Confession, we never go to Communion, and many Catholics don’t even bother going to Mass.  And believe me, God is ticked!  The last sentence of today’s Gospel tells us how ticked he is: “For I say unto you, that none of these men which were bidden, shall taste of my supper.”  This supper, this communion with God, is everlasting.  It will continue beyond our life on earth, when our communion with God will last forever.  So if we wish to taste of this everlasting communion, we must obey his invitation here on earth, and stop trying to think of excuses why we should not go to Mass, not receive Communion.  How can we even think of doing this?  We’re doing nothing less than throwing God’s greatest gift of all back in his face.  If that’s what we’re doing, then we should be very afraid for our eternal salvation. “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.”

Ending on a positive note, let’s remember the words of St. John the Evangelist, who takes us past this beginning of wisdom to what lies beyond.  For fear, he reminds us, is an imperfection, and that “perfect love casteth out fear.”  So if you don’t want to fear God and his final judgment, then all you have to do is learn how to love perfectly.  And if you love me, our Lord told us, you’ll keep my commandments.  Obey the laws of God, don’t offend him by sinning, and you’ll never have anything to fear.  Perfection may be beyond our grasp, but God will see our efforts and be merciful even if we don’t always succeed.  Love God, and fear not!