Feb. 14, 2010: 6th Sunday Ordinary (C)
I had an interesting challenge this week that I want to share with you. If your teenager asked you, "Mom, I don't believe in Jesus. That means I don't have to go to the church, right?" Would you still take him to church? I tried it when I was a teenager, and I always seemed to end up in the car whether I liked it or not. But it's not just for teenagers; people in their 20's, 30's, and 40's ask this question as well. I often ask myself, how could I have answered myself back when I was a teenager when I had that doubt? So that was my challenge this week. How do I explain in a compelling way Jesus to a young person who is doubting? 
How do I introduce to a young man Jesus who is so real to me? Right before I was heading over to visit this young man, I asked myself, "What should I take with me? Catechism? Bible?" In the end I decided to take a couple of DVDs instead. Young people of this generation are visually oriented and are convinced by what they see on a screen. At their house we sat down on the couch, and I popped in the DVD. It was a comfortable and beautiful house. A large TV screen began to show a calm morning in the city of Calcutta, India. The streets were already littered with cars and bustling with activity. On the streets some kids were rummaging through a pile of trash, and a man was taking a bath right on the sidewalk with his clothes on. A 2 year old child was squatting on the sidewalk, picking up and putting into his mouth morsels of steamed rice that spilled out of a bag. Already I could see on the face of the teenager that his Western sensitivities were stretched. Our own children seldom rummage through trash or take shower in the public, let alone sleep on the side walk with only a cardboard box as a mattress. 
The next scene showed two Indian sisters in blue-white striped saris arriving with a metal stretcher. They loaded an elderly man who seemed to be on the verge of dying. He was dangerously thin, showing his rib cage. The sisters loaded him up on a rickety truck turned into an ambulance and brought him to the House of Dying run by the Missionaries of Charity. Inside the building, Mother Teresa was making her morning rounds visiting all the residents, often touching their heads with a big smile. Then as she looked away to another direction, Mother Teresa sighed, "Big suffering." You could see on her face her great desire to alleviate pain and suffering of all the people brought there. I then looked toward the young man sitting on the couch and said, "I wonder how these sisters do it. If our TV allowed us to smell what they smell, especially with the dying, we probably would not be in the same room. I wonder what inspired these sisters to give up so much to do what they are doing now? You and I can simply donate a check to her cause, still sitting comfortably in this sofa. But I wonder if we could give all this up, all the comforts and all our securities, and yet experience the same joy and zeal as Mother Teresa and her sisters." I told him, "They don't get paid for what they are doing. They don't get thank you for what they are doing. They don't have comfortable living quarters when doing their work. So why are they doing this?
The next scene showed two Indian sisters in blue-white striped saris arriving with a metal stretcher. They loaded an elderly man who seemed to be on the verge of dying. He was dangerously thin, showing his rib cage. The sisters loaded him up on a rickety truck turned into an ambulance and brought him to the House of Dying run by the Missionaries of Charity. Inside the building, Mother Teresa was making her morning rounds visiting all the residents, often touching their heads with a big smile. Then as she looked away to another direction, Mother Teresa sighed, "Big suffering." You could see on her face her great desire to alleviate pain and suffering of all the people brought there. I then looked toward the young man sitting on the couch and said, "I wonder how these sisters do it. If our TV allowed us to smell what they smell, especially with the dying, we probably would not be in the same room. I wonder what inspired these sisters to give up so much to do what they are doing now? You and I can simply donate a check to her cause, still sitting comfortably in this sofa. But I wonder if we could give all this up, all the comforts and all our securities, and yet experience the same joy and zeal as Mother Teresa and her sisters." I told him, "They don't get paid for what they are doing. They don't get thank you for what they are doing. They don't have comfortable living quarters when doing their work. So why are they doing this? The answer lies in the gospel for today, the Beatitudes. "Blessed are you who are poor, for the kingdom of God is yours. Blessed are you who are now hungry, for you will be satisfied. Blessed are you who are now weeping, for you will laugh. Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude and insult you, and denounce your name as evil on account of the Son of Man. Rejoice and leap for joy on that day! 
Behold, your reward will be great in heaven. But woe to you who have received your consolation. Woe to you who are filled now, for you will be hungry. Woe to you who laugh now, for you will grieve and weep." I notice that at funerals, the deceased can be well dressed lying down in a fancy, expensive casket with beautiful flower arrangements. On the other hand, those who do not have money arrive cremated with barely any flowers. But that's not where I notice the difference. The difference lies on how families and friends grieve over the person's absence. They grieve as if the light that shone brightly is now extinguished. And inevitably as I interview families to find out more about the deceased, I hear the familiar clue that leads to why that person was so loved. I hear things like, "My mom loved Jesus and Blessed Mother. She prayed so much for us. She was always thinking about us, never about herself. She was truly Jesus to us." A family may be financially poor, but rich in love for each other because mom and dad loved Jesus, and they love each other and their children like Jesus does. Another family may be rich financially with all sorts of resources for leisure, yet dirt poor in love because everyone is on their own islands by material distractions and Jesus is considered irrelevant.
Behold, your reward will be great in heaven. But woe to you who have received your consolation. Woe to you who are filled now, for you will be hungry. Woe to you who laugh now, for you will grieve and weep." I notice that at funerals, the deceased can be well dressed lying down in a fancy, expensive casket with beautiful flower arrangements. On the other hand, those who do not have money arrive cremated with barely any flowers. But that's not where I notice the difference. The difference lies on how families and friends grieve over the person's absence. They grieve as if the light that shone brightly is now extinguished. And inevitably as I interview families to find out more about the deceased, I hear the familiar clue that leads to why that person was so loved. I hear things like, "My mom loved Jesus and Blessed Mother. She prayed so much for us. She was always thinking about us, never about herself. She was truly Jesus to us." A family may be financially poor, but rich in love for each other because mom and dad loved Jesus, and they love each other and their children like Jesus does. Another family may be rich financially with all sorts of resources for leisure, yet dirt poor in love because everyone is on their own islands by material distractions and Jesus is considered irrelevant. 
As I sat there with that young teenager watching a video on Mother Teresa, I wanted him to know that Jesus was truly a living God whom we can approach so readily. I wanted him to know that those Mother Teresa sisters had true joy and happiness because they loved Jesus. Despite the poverty, harsh living conditions, and suffering they endured, these sisters received one true wealth that death cannot rob of them--Jesus who loved them. I have been a priest for a very short time now, but I have seen the true poverty of Western world that Mother Teresa spoke of; she said often, "There is Calcutta everywhere in the world if we have eyes to see it." I have seen families suffer because a mom or a dad was unfaithful to their wedding vows. I have seen families deeply torn apart because one of their children turned to alcohol or drugs. I have seen elderly parents suffer neglect and loneliness because their children seldom visit them. Yes, there are Calcuttas right here among our parish families, where there are deep poverties of love. Bring Jesus to your Calcuttas, as those Mother Teresa sisters did in India. Bring Jesus to your marriage so poverty of love in your family can once again be filled with joy and happiness. 
