In no uncertain terms, Our Lord tells us that “to whom much is given, much will be
expected.” I am aware, though certainly not to the degree that I should be, of the incredible blessings I have received in my life. I could never sufficiently thank God for my vocation, my family, my health, His continued care for me, the list goes on. Therefore, I should also expect Jesus to ask a lot of me, and I shouldn’t hesitate to do anything He might ask. Indeed, there are a great many things I am always willing to do: I try to work hard to discharge my office, I am committed to celibacy for the sake of the Kingdom, I’ll get out of bed at all hours of the night to go to bring the sacraments to my spiritual children, you name it. But if there’s one thing that always gives me pause, it is being asked to look like a fool for Christ.
 
 Perhaps it’s the teacher in me, but I always enjoy being able to demonstrate the reasonableness of the Faith, and how it fits together as a unified whole. So when God asks us to lay aside the reasonable, the obvious, and the desire to seem intelligent in the eyes of others, I struggle. It’s one thing to walk about in public wearing clerics and praying the rosary, but it is another thing entirely to stop in the middle of a public place and pray with and for someone who is suffering. Every chance we have to risk looking foolish for the sake of the Gospel is a beautiful, but difficult, opportunity to grow in trust in
God’s Providence.
 
Today’s first reading and Gospel both give us an inside look at that thought process in the lives of true disciples, even as they struggle. Elisha tells a man who brings him a few loaves to feed them to a hundred people, and that man objects because it is readily
apparent that it’s not enough food for them. Elisha tells him to do it anyway. Philip and Andrew raise their objections to Jesus that there is simply no way they can provide enough food for the crowd gathered to hear Jesus, but He gently pushes them to trust God and do so anyway. I have no difficulty imagining the tension and fear of looking stupid they must have felt as they set out to do a job that was impossible on its face. And yet, when all was said and done, there were leftovers, a sign of God’s abundance to His people.
 
I’ve always enjoyed meditating on how God takes the seemingly minor offerings of His followers and turns them into something greater than we could imagine. But for those of us who struggle to live as disciples in the public square, it is worthwhile to reflect on another part of their offering: their pride. The apostles don’t just offer a few loaves and fish. They also sacrifice their pride and their control over how people see them. To trust that our fidelity to Jesus is more important than how the world sees us is a sacrifice, and what’s more, it’s a sacrifice that fewer and fewer are willing to make.
 
Very little explanation is needed as to where the Church, in following Jesus, is out of step with the world. Throw a dart at a catechism and you’re likely to hit something that will be immediately unpopular with political interest groups all over the spectrum. Where we stand on marriage, life issues, the death penalty, and a host of other issues is
controversial in the twenty-first century. The easy (and common) thing to do is to simply demand that the Church “get with the times” and start thinking as the world does. But Jesus’ witness in the Gospel today asks us to do something much more difficult: be a sign of contradiction. Ask yourself if you’re willing to be seen as weird for the sake of Jesus. Maybe the answer is “no”, but you’d like to be. Ask God for the grace of trust in His Divine
Providence. It may take time, but God responds to our generosity with even more generosity. A humble heart, asking for help in being even more faithful, will always be looked upon favorably by Our Lord.
 
Prayers always,
Fr. McC