Readings: Malachi 1:14B-2:2B, 8-10; 1 Thessalonians 2:7B-9, 13; Matthew 23:1-12
In the 1930’s a theater critic is purported to have said:
“Theaters are the new Church of the Masses—
where people sit huddled in the dark
listening to people in the light
tell them what it is to be human.”
To be in a position to tell people what it is to be human
is to be invested with immense—
indeed, almost god-like—power,
power that can be easily abused.
And in recent weeks, we have been confronted
with an unending stream of news stories
of cases of sexual abuse and harassment
by powerful men in the entertainment industry.
Each day seems to bring new allegations,
showing that such behavior is not rare but pervasive.
We Catholics have lived for at least the past fifteen years
with the depressingly frequent experience
of being smacked in the face by the failures of our clergy,
particularly the repeated revelations
of sexual abuse of children and young people
by priests, deacons, and religious.
Most recently, the Netflix documentary series The Keepers
has chronicled in horrifying detail
the widespread abuse of girls by a priest
who work as a counselor in the late 60s and early 70s
at Keough High School here in Baltimore.
Even if, as the Archdiocese claims,
The Keepers is somewhat misleading
in its portrayal of the Archdiocese’s response
to the allegations of abuse,
nobody seriously questions the truth
of the allegations themselves
or the way in which
the religious authority of the priesthood
was used to enable horrific acts of abuse.
It is a powerful thing to be in the position
of telling people what it means to be human,
whether it is done in a church or in a theater,
and the exercise of such power is seductive and intoxicating.
And make no mistake: these cases of abuse,
whether by priests or producers or political pundits,
are about power, not sexual desire.
They are about the thrill of having someone totally in your control,
the titillation found in bending someone’s will to your own,
the ancient human delusion
that one exercises God-like power over others
because one has the authority
to declare the meaning of human existence.
And the fact that the meaning of human existence
proclaimed by the Church is true
doesn’t make the abuse of power by the clergy better;
in fact, it makes it worse.
It becomes not only a violation of human dignity,
but a perversion of the truth of God.
The seduction of religious or quasi-religious power
is not, of course, anything new.
Jesus identifies it in the religious leaders of his own day:
“They preach, but they do not practice….
They love places of honor at banquets,
seats of honor in synagogues,
greetings in the marketplace.”
These things might seem comparatively minor
compared to violent acts of abuse,
but they grow from the same poisoned root.
In Jesus’ day, as in ours,
the power to proclaim the meaning of human existence
is quickly and easily twisted
into a tool for domination.
But what does Jesus say?
“The greatest among you must be your servant.
Whoever exalts himself will be humbled;
but whoever humbles himself will be exalted.”
And Jesus doesn’t just speak this truth, he lives it;
he lives it to the point of death, death on a cross.
And in that life, in that death,
not only the meaning of human existence,
but the true power of God is revealed.
In our quest for god-like power,
we not only mistake ourselves for God
but we also mistake the nature of God’s power.
God’s power, as revealed in the cross,
is not a power over others
that allows God to control and manipulate
in order to enhance and increase his own sense of power.
Rather God’s power is one that constantly pours itself out
in creating, in healing, in forgiving,
in giving itself to be shared in.
We truthfully proclaim the meaning of human existence
when we exercise power in this way,
the way that Jesus reveals
in his life, death, and resurrection.
Writing to the Thessalonians,
Paul gives us a picture of such a proclamation:
“We were gentle among you,
as a nursing mother cares for her children….
Working night and day in order not to burden any of you,
we proclaimed to you the gospel of God.”
Paul uses the image of the nursing mother
who shares her own bodily substance with her child
to speak of the nature of true religious authority.
How different this is from those exercises
of religious or quasi-religious power
that find their end in self-gratification
through control and manipulation.
Those of us who are clergy ought to look to Jesus and Paul
to teach us how to proclaim the good news.
We cannot let the abuses of power
by those who are called to proclaim
the meaning of human existence
cause us to cease our proclamation.
Because the world still needs the good news of God,
and there are plenty of peddlers of other gospels
waiting to step into the breech should we fall silent.
We must find a way to proclaim that good news
as Jesus did, as Paul did,
not only with our lips, but in our lives,
so that those who receive it may find, as Paul says,
“not a human word but… the word of God,
which is now at work in you who believe.”
When I was ordained a deacon,
Archbishop Keeler
placed the book of Gospels in my hands,
saying, “Receive the Gospel of Christ
whose herald you have become.
Believe what you read,
teach what you believe,
and practice what you teach.”
This is an awesome charge.
To fulfill it, I need you to hold me accountable
to exercising the kind of authority
that does not exalt itself,
that does not seek its own advantage,
but seeks only to build up the body of Christ
here in this place.
I also need you to pray for me,
to pray for all bishops, priests, and deacons,
that we may have the power to be gentle,
the power to proclaim what it means to be human
by seeking no glory except the glory of the cross.
