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ROBERT DALY - Email - Profile 

Sermon 14th Sunday in Ordinary Time, July 8, 2007

Chapel Kontakt der Kontinenten, Soesterberg, The Netherlands

Isaiah 66:10–14C

            Resp. Psalm from Psalm 66

Galatians 6:14–18

            Alleluia Verse from Colossians 3:15:A, 16A

Luke 10:1-12, 17-20

 

“Jesus said: ‘I have seen Satan fall like lightning from the sky’.” (Luke 10:18)

Serendipitously, in the Gospel of today’s Mass, in Luke, chapter 10, verse 18, we hear the source of the title of one of René’s most recent books. . . . What do we make of that? I can’t claim to read Rene’s mind. I can only try to say—and that by way of what I hope will be a homily and not just a lecture—what these striking words of Jesus suggest to me.

The context in the Gospel of Luke: The seventy-two disciples have just returned from their first missionary journey, and, in the flushed excitement of first success, report to Jesus, exultingly, triumphantly: “Lord, even the demons are subject to us because of your names.” To Which Jesus replies: “I have seen Satan fall like lightning from the sky.”  

What does this mean?

Stepping back, and looking at it from the perspective of my life-long study of the meaning of Christian Sacrifice, it reminds me of a statement made by my own great theological mentor, Edward Kilmartin, and made in practically the same words by René Girard. [Now, I admit that I can’t tell you precisely where René says this, so, quite possibly, it’s more something that I hear him saying.] The statement goes: “the Christ-event has done away with sacrifice in the history-of-religions sense of the word.

In other words, with the coming of Christ, specifically when the kingdom of God is effectively preached the way Christ meant it to be preached, something radically new takes place. Sacrifice, in its old, traditional sense, just doesn’t work any more. Or, in Girardian language, the scapegoat mechanism gets unveiled and loses its effectiveness. That points to what the Christ-event changes us from, What does it change us to?

 I’m struggling now to turn this lecture into a homily, so, bear with me a bit more.

Of the many meanings that sacrifice has—and almost any use of the word  involves several of these meanings, all overlapping and intermingling with each other, there is one special, specifically and uniquely Christian meaning. Skipping over lots of exposition, in order to get past the lecture and into the homily, this special Christian meaning of sacrifice, unveiled to us in the Christ-event, can be summarized as follows;  

Authentic Christian sacrifice begins with the self-gift/self-offering of the Father in the sending of the Son. It continues in what we can metaphorically call a second “moment” in the totally free, totally loving, self-offering “response” of the Son, in his humanity, and in the Holy Spirit, to the Father and for us. This now begins to be Christian sacrifice when we, in a kind of third “moment,” in the power of the very same Spirit that was in Jesus, begin to enter into that profoundly interpersonal relationship of Father, Son, and Spirit that is the very life of God. In other words, authentic Christian sacrifice is the ultimate, joyously fulfilling perfection of loving interpersonal being.  

Put that was, it sounds forbiddingly abstruse. Forgive me! I’m a theologian. I can’t help myself.

But actually, it’s something very practical, very down-to-earth, and something that you all already know, and know by personal experience. If that were not so, you wouldn’t even be here. One little story will show what I mean.

It’s the story of a man. But it could be the story of a woman; change the sex and some insignificant details and the point is the same. This man is young, strong, and bright. He’s in confident control of his own life and of the things and of the people in his life. Everything and everyone around him is to be used, as he wills and for his own pleasure. But then one day, he notices that this woman, whom he is stringing along in a self-serving relationship, is really in love with him. She is offering herself to him totally, holding nothing back. Because he’s smart, he knows he is now faced with a decision. He can continue to string her along, maybe letting all the world think that they are in a nice, mutually self-giving relationship, enjoying it for what is there, but ready to break it off whenever it suits him. Or, he can begin to return that love, begin to give himself in return. If he does, he knows that he is making himself vulnerable, just as she is. If he does, he knows he is saying goodbye to his former gods of power, control, and me-first self-indulgence. He is putting himself in position to become a victim.

But if he does choose to begin to return love, he senses that he is entering into something that is also gloriously fulfilling. It is the something that lies behind all the love stories one encounters in novels, film and TV, even the mindless situation comedies. It is the kind of happiness and personal fulfillment that, up to now, he thought existed only in the minds of foolish, unrealistic dreamers. But precisely that is what is now, actually, being offered to him.

People across all nations, cultures, and religions are constantly being faced with this kind of choice. When they say yes to genuine, self-giving love, the Christian theologian will say that they are accepting the invitation to begin to share in the perfection of the interpersonal love of Father, Son and Spirit. The Girardian will say that they are beginning to dismantle the scapegoat mechanism. But however it is described, whenever people really say yes to love, then, indeed, Satan is falling like lightning from the sky.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

 

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