“Accept Christ and Your Troubles Begin: Opting for Tribulation Rather Than Rocky Soil”
Homily for the Annual White Mass
Feast of St. Luke, Evangelist
October 18, 2024; Mater Dolorosa Church
Introduction
Twelve years ago the then-Archbishop, and now Archbishop Emeritus, of Seattle, J. Peter Sartain, published a book that is a collection of his letters to his priests during the years that he was entrusted with the pastoral governance of that Archdiocese. One of those letters is entitled, “Gracefully Dealing with Alexander the Coppersmith.” He speaks about this curious personage that St. Paul mentions in his Second Letter to Timothy, which we just heard proclaimed for the first reading in our Mass this evening.
Learning from the Bad Actors
We don’t know much about this bad actor, as this is the only explicit mention of him in the Bible. But we can perhaps infer some things about him. One Biblicist notes that St. Paul uses a particular Greek word to express the idea “did me a great deal of harm.” The verb, endeiknumi, literally means to “display,” and was the word used for an informer, as in, displaying information about an individual to the Roman authorities. This would expose one to extreme danger, and so, as the theory goes, it could be that Alexander was a renegade Christian who spread false information against St. Paul to the Roman authorities, seeking to bring him to ruin in a most dishonorable way.[1]
We all have such Alexanders in our lives, who, as Archbishop Sartain puts it, “are the ones whose hot-headed complaints, unjust judgments, anonymous letters, petty gossip, or unyielding hostility smarts to the core because it is aimed deliberately and squarely at us.” The point, though, is what we learn from all this. It could be that such an Alexander is coming from a place of hurt in his or her own personal life, especially early on in life. Perhaps it can be that God is teaching me a lesson on how to act prudently and justly, or how to act patiently, or how to return good for evil.[2] In other words, a golden opportunity that God gives the Christian to work out his or her salvation and so make progress on the way to holiness. Isn’t this, after all, what we say our faith in Christ is supposed to be all about?
What the good Archbishop says about Alexander the Coppersmith, however, can be applied all of those whom St. Paul lists here, a veritable hall of shame on the one hand and honor roll on the other. And we can learn from both sides of the ledger. Not to go into all of them, but St. Paul begins by speaking about Demas. Here again there is not much to go on to understand who this character is, but there are pieces that we can put together to get an idea. As the same Biblicist I mentioned a moment ago, William Barclay, explains, this name is mentioned two other times in the New Testament: in St. Paul’s letter to Philemon, where he is listed among those whom Paul calls his fellow laborers (Phlm 24); and in Colossians, where he is mentioned without any comment at all. And so, Barclay theorizes that Demas began as a zealous follower of Christ without counting the cost, but that over time, when he met with unpopularity, persecution, the need for sacrifice, and loneliness, he gave up because he did not have the spiritual stamina to withstand it. His supposed conversion was more of an emotional response on his part. As Barclay puts it so well:
There is a kind of evangelism which proclaims: ‘accept Christ and you will have rest and peace and joy.’ There is a sense, the deepest of all senses, in which that is profoundly and blessedly true. But it is also true that when we accept Christ our troubles begin. Up to this time we have lived in conformity with the world and its standards. Because of that[,] life was easy, because we followed the line of least resistance and went with the crowd. Once a man accepts Christ, he accepts an entirely new set of standards and is committed to an entirely new kind of life at his work, in his personal relationships, in his pleasures, and there are bound to be collisions.[3]
It is “when we accept Christ [that] our troubles begin.” Barclay wrote those words fifty years ago; how much more so is the case today! According to his theory of Demas, Demas exemplifies the rocky soil in the parable of the sower sowing seed which lands on different types of soil – that is, “the one who hears the word and receives it at once with joy. But he has no root and lasts only for a time. When some tribulation or persecution comes because of the word, he immediately falls away “ (Mt 13:20-21). That is, he was “enamored of the present world,” and so deserted St. Paul, as a soldier deserting his commanding officer in the face of a fierce battle.
Learning from the Honor Roll
While this type of soil is always to be found at any time in history and in any culture, there seems to be a super-abundance of its presence in our own time. Perhaps your own profession, that of the medical arts, is one place more than any other where this pressure makes itself felt with particular intensity. But, while we have plenty of examples of this type of soil in the Scriptures all the way down to our own time, we also, happily, have a generous supply of counter-examples, including, especially, another one named in St. Paul’s list, this one on the honor roll side of the ledger, whose feast day we celebrate today and is your patron saint: St. Luke the Evangelist.
In addition to his Gospel, St. Luke also wrote the Acts of the Apostles, some passages of which are written in the first-person plural. The clear implication here is that Luke was describing occasions in which he was personally present, accompanying Paul in his many missionary journeys. This includes chapter 27, where he describes Paul setting out under arrest for Rome. We can, then, deduce from this that Luke was a loyal companion all the way to the end. In his letter to the Colossians, Paul also describes Luke as “the beloved physician.” We can infer even more from this. We know that St. Paul suffered ailments. He spoke of the thorn in his side (2 Cor 12:7), and of the brand marks of Jesus that he bore in his flesh (Gal 6:17). This is the stigmata, the Greek word used to refer to the brand that animals received to indicate to which master they belonged. Whether St. Paul is speaking literally or metaphorically – that is, whether of the phenomenon of the physical wounds of Jesus that some mystics have borne, or of the physical wounds he suffered for the sake of Christ such as floggings and stoning – we do not know, but either way it involved physical suffering and so the need for medical attention. And then, at the end of his letter to the Galatians, he also mentions that he is writing the letter in his own large handwriting (Gal 6:11), indicating a problem with his eyesight. You are the physicians, so you can speculate: macular degeneration, cataracts, perhaps even diabetes.
The point is, Paul suffered physical ailments, and Luke was there at his side to give him aid, comfort in suffering, and healing. Luke, then, is a man who used his talents generously and with kindness, all for the sake of the proclamation of the Gospel.[4] Here he stands in stark contrast to Demas, for in that very passage where St. Paul refers to Demas as a fellow laborer in his Letter to Philemon, immediately after he mentions Luke as well. So there you have it: they were both co-workers with Paul, and one went the worldly way when it became inconvenient, while the other stayed loyal to the end, using his talents for the sake of the Gospel no matter the cost, even to the point of paying the ultimate cost and shedding his blood for Christ.
Participating in the Work of Christ for His People
The choice for us is clear. But to explore this more deeply, let us take note of the common belief that St. Luke was one of those seventy-two disciples whom Jesus sent ahead of him in pairs to proclaim the Kingdom and prepare the way for his coming, and of what that means for us. The sending of these disciples is clearly inspired by the seventy elders whom the Lord selected to assist Moses in his task of governing the people. We actually heard the account of this story three Sundays ago: the seventy in the camp who were prophesying, and the two outside the camp, Eldad and Medad, who were also prophesying but not with the group. Not only does the number parallel the New Testament account (the ancient manuscripts in this passage for Luke’s Gospel variously refer to seventy disciples and seventy-two), but the main point is that these disciples assisted in the work of the prophet.
All of these teachings that come to us from our liturgy today – the readings, the biblical background to the readings, and the feast day we celebrate – all converge perfectly on your vocation, for all that you are called to be and to do as medical professionals. In a very real way, albeit not within a church sanctuary, you participate in the work of Christ for his people, bringing about healing of body and soul. You understand that your calling in life is to contribute to the healing of the whole person, not simply alleviating physical suffering in the quickest, easiest and most efficient way possible. Let alone in a way that will maximize profit!
To be such a Christ-like healer will come with a price. But while your rocky-soil peers may live with the comfort and that the world has to offer, you have one thing, the most important thing, that no rocky-soiler, foot-pather, or thorn-busher can ever have: peace of conscience. This is the gift given to the good-soilers! And even more: you also understand that your calling goes beyond this world. We work out our salvation in the social context where we utilize our gifts for the glory of God and for making known His Son Jesus Christ, especially through our actions.
Conclusion
The comforts and conveniences of the world might be nice, but when the price is forsaking eternal life, is that really worth it? Why sacrifice eternity to avoid danger for a fleeting moment? Thank you for all the sacrifices you make to provide true health care to the suffering, health care that respects their dignity and God’s law, that makes this world more authentically human, imbued with the love of God, and so a closer image on ear of His Kingdom in heaven. Which is to say, thank you for living your vocation in a way that gives us a most important reminder that we all need to hear and see frequently: the high returns on the investment of suffering for the sake of Christ in this world are literally out of this world!
[1] William Barclay, The Daily Study Bible Series Revised Edition: The Letters to Timothy, Titus, and Philemon (Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1977) p. 219.
[2] J. Peter Sartain, Strengthen Your Brothers, Letters of Encouragement from an Archbishop to His Priests (Collegeville, Minnesota: Liturgical Press, 2012) pp. 69-70.
[3] Barclay, p. 213.
[4] Cf. Barclay, pp. 215-216.