Monday, August 21, 2017

Sermon to the Priory School Faculty on the First Day of the Academic Year

When I read this passage from the old testament, I can’t help reading it as a prophecy of the upcoming school year:

He allowed them to fall into the power of their enemies round about
whom they were no longer able to withstand.
Whatever they undertook, the LORD turned into disaster for them,
as in his warning he had sworn he would do,
till they were in great distress.

            We live in a community, a culture, a country that seems to be in a state of crisis.  We live in a tumultuous age. An age of great distress. And our students will bring this burden with them when they arrive.  Like the young man in today’s gospel, they come to us asking, “What good must I do?  What do I still lack?”
            The answer is easy enough: Obey the commandments. Sell what you have.  Give to the poor.  Follow Christ.  “But when the young man heard this statement, he went away sad,
for he had many possessions.”
            It’s going to take more than just teaching to save these kids.  They need more than answers.  It will have to be our job to make this place a sanctuary for them.  A refuge.  A place of joy.  A place of peace.
            But we can’t give what we don’t have.
            Or maybe we can.
            Isn’t that, after all, what the priest does at every mass, in every confession—gives what he himself does not have?
I remember asking my father once when I was very young whether it was really necessary to love one’s sister (even loving one’s enemy seemed more reasonable at the time).  My father, of course, insisted that it was.  And I recall explaining to him at length that this would be very dificult—even impossible—given the current circumstances, and that perhaps we should consider giving her up for adoption.  My father said to me, “Jason, you may find this hard to believe, but some day, you will discover that you do love your sister.  And when that day comes, you will actually want to be nice to her.  In the meantime, however…fake it.”
            At the time, this sounded like awfully cold advice, but if we are to put into action what Christ demands of us in the gospels—if we really are to love our neighbor as we love our own selves—then there are going to be times when we don’t feel very predisposed to that emotion.  Because let’s face it, some people are very very difficult to love, and even God can seem awfully distant at times.  But if you think about it, those times when we must force ourselves to “fake” this love for our neighbor are often the most sincere instances of love, because those are the times when we can give love without hope of recompense.  And if the wise ones are right, then the curious result of all this feigned affection is that an unfeigned affection begins to grow out of it.
            So here’s what we need if we are going to be what our students need: unhesitating apologies and preemptive forgiveness…and if all that doesn’t work, FAKE IT.

*August 21 was the day of the eclipse.

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