Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time
As you can imagine, before being ordained as a priest or deacon a person must get a certain amount of structured education. That’s one of the main responsibilities of seminaries and diocesan diaconate programs. In other words, there is a certain amount of “stuff” that the Church feels we must know in order to fulfill our ministerial duties in the best way possible. And this “knowledge” spans many areas --- theology, philosophy, Church history, Scripture, Sacraments… Some people in formation love these sorts of things and others would like to be able to leapfrog over some of these requirements. But in either case, one kneels before the bishop “knowing” a lot more than he did before he began the whole process.
This can be both a blessing and a curse. In one sense, it’s important to have all this stuff in our heads. It helps us preach. It helps us teach. It helps us say the right things at weddings and funerals and in the confessional and at a person’s bedside. But the “curse” of having had a lot of formal education in the faith is that we can sometimes get all caught up in our heads over these sorts of matters. In other words, “faith” can start to become just an assortment of statements or explanations or arguments.
Faith, in these circumstances, becomes just “thinking the right stuff”. The challenge is to allow our intellectual knowledge to move our hearts to act in love.
“. . . so that your faith might rest not on human wisdom but on the power of God.”
So says Paul to the people of Corinth. He starts this particular passage by telling them (essentially) that he knows that they haven’t accepted the faith because of his words, that is, because of some sort of clever or persuasive argument. Rather, he knows that the biggest difference he made in their hearts and minds was through his actions --- what he calls a “demonstration of Spirit and power”. Put simply --- words weren’t the difference. Actions were. The “power of God” was made visible through the good he was able to do (whatever those things were). In Paul, they sort of “saw” what “faith” looked like (not just “heard” what it was supposed to be).
Which are we? Are we people who mostly “talk” about our faith, or do we actually demonstrate the “power” of it? Of course, the power of a faithful life doesn’t really look like power at all. It looks like what we heard from Isaiah in today’s First Reading --- feeding the hungry, sheltering the oppressed and the homeless, and clothing the naked.
Not only is this the only sort of power God seems to care about --- the power of love --- it is also the only real evidence that we have any sort of authentic faith at all. We can say the right things, we can hold the right thoughts, but if those things don’t manifest themselves in the choices we make --- our faith is really just an illusion.
These are pretty hard things to hear. It’s easier to believe that we just need to give our assent to the things the Church teaches and we are being faithful. It’s a lot harder to accept the challenge from God (or shall I say “command”) to give of ourselves in the complete, selfless way he asks --- by being radically merciful, and wastefully generous, and relentlessly forgiving and sincerely humble, and unstoppably kind.
And these are not little, insignificant, ordinary things. They are powerful things. Life-changing things. God-things. And the difference they can make in the lives of others and in the transformation of the world should not be underestimated. In fact, this is precisely how we become . . .Salt. The kind of people who make every situation a little better, a little more hopeful, a little more beautiful, a little more uplifting. Is that really who we are? Or do we sometimes tear others down? Or make them feel less than they are? Or fill them with cynicism and hopelessness?
Living out our faith is how we become light. The kind of people who brighten the lives of others. And bring warmth to their hearts and souls. And provide light to dispel whatever darkness they might be experiencing, whatever darkness is making it difficult for them to be the person God created them to be? Is that who we are? Or do we sometimes make people stay in the shadows? Or make someone’s world a little colder? Or make others feel that they aren’t as loved by God as us?
Each of our lives says something, whether we want it to or not. And what we “say” with our lives comes out most clearly by what we actually do in our lives, how we actually treat people. And it doesn’t matter if we believe all the right things, or say all the right prayers. What please God is the person who lets God’s grace transform their actions into life-giving, powerful instruments of God --- the kinds of things that make us salt and light, the kinds of things that help make the world the beautiful, hopeful place God wants it to be.
So let’s not get all caught up in our heads. Rather, let’s use what we believe to shape what really matters --- the choices we make.
For as Paul reminds us --- that’s where our faith should truly rest.


