Bishop Anthony B. Taylor delivered this homily Feb. 23.
All last week I was in El Salvador with Catholic Relief Services, the official humanitarian agency of the Catholics of the United States, for which we take up a collection each year — this year it will be on March 29-30.
Also when there is some extraordinary disaster, like this year’s typhoon in the Philippines, we take up an additional collection.
On this trip we inspected the good work you and I are helping to accomplish in El Salvador, and we also used our role as a VIP delegation, including four bishops, to gain access to business leaders and governmental officials with a view to building bridges between them and those working with at-risk youth and other vulnerable populations in this very polarized society.
A society plagued with gang violence, extremely high unemployment, extreme income disparity between the rich and the poor and a very painful history that includes the assassination of those whom the powers-that-be didn’t like, including Archbishop Romero, three nuns and one lay volunteer from the United States, six Jesuits and their two housekeepers, plus 75,000 people who died in the civil war, mostly killed by their own military.
In this context it remains very tempting to point fingers today, assign blame and even demonize the other today, which does absolutely no good. After all, many people who disagree with each other honestly see things differently and may just have different blind spots than each other, or different personal histories that color their perceptions. What looks like malice may really just be fear. Part of my role last week was to build bridges in El Salvador.
And you know, there are ways in which our society resembles that of El Salvador. We are wealthier and have a less tragic history, but our society is polarized too, our levels of income disparity are increasing, we have horrible gang violence, unacceptable levels of unemployment and a state legislature held hostage by a small handful of representatives who apparently see things very differently from the vast majority of those whom they are supposed to serve.
In today’s Gospel Jesus reminds us that when the sun comes up, it shines on everyone equally. When it rains, the rain falls everywhere in the area, without distinction. When the wind blows, everyone feels the same breeze, and when a storm hits, everyone is exposed to the danger. Good people don’t get better weather than bad people. Good farmers don’t get more rain than bad farmers.
Jesus makes two points. One is that God’s love is like the sun — he loves everyone equally and that means 100 percent. He loves bad people just as much as he loves good people. He loves you just as much as he loves Pope Francis! We don’t have to do anything to earn his love — it’s already there. And there’s not anything we can do to lose his love either, because love is his very nature. He loves because of who he is and not just because of us. Just as the sun shines on everyone equally and the rain falls on everyone equally, so also God loves everyone equally, 100 percent.
Jesus’ second point is that if we are to become like God, then our love must be like his. Regardless of what we think about someone else’s behavior, our opinion must not get in the way of our love. We must love because of who we are and not just because of them. Sometimes we must condemn the greed we see around us like Jesus did, and like Pope Francis does when he criticizes economic decisions that serve the interests of the powerful while doing great harm to the poor.
Sometimes we must cry out against injustice like Jesus did, and like Archbishop Romero did. Sometimes we must confront bad deeds, but we are never free to condemn the sinner. Indeed we oppose the sin because we love the sinner, because we know from personal experience of our own sins how much harm the sin does to the sinner himself. God loves the sinner as much as he loves me. Like Pope Francis said when asked about homosexuals: Who am I to condemn someone whom God loves? We condemn the sin but never stop loving the sinner.
This business of loving people you do not like is very tricky, even in small matters. For instance, you and I rub shoulders every day with people we just don’t like. And Jesus challenges us to love these aggravating people as God loves them, meaning 100 percent! And you know, the Church is a microcosm of the world, a gathering of people who may otherwise have nothing special in common beyond our belief in Jesus. Indeed, I once heard a speaker say — and only half in jest —“the Church is the place where the person you least want to spend time with is always there. A place to learn to live with ambiguity.” And I might add, a place to learn to love.
The sun shines its warm rays on everyone and we are called to do the same. God grant that our warmth extend to all, and in particular, that we learn how to love those we like the least!
