Weekly Homily
“Jesus said to his disciples, ‘Who do you say that I am?’ Simon Peter answered, ‘You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.’” (Matthew 16:15-16)
“SOUL-SURFING” – August 24, 2008
Twenty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time
(Matthew 16:13-20)
Fr. Robert deLeon, CSC
The vase of long-stalked sunflowers before the altar in our chapel at St. Joseph Center demanded some attention. Over the course of several days, some of the once perky blooms had folded up and turned downward. Adding more water to the vase and cutting afresh the 3-foot stems of the brown-centered flora with bright yellow coronas, I did all I knew to revive them. But the droopy got droopier as healthy blooms continued stretching skyward in glory. Finally, having waited a few more days, I consigned the wilted blooms to the trash, there seeming nothing more to do. What had happened, I wondered? Why did some thrive and others not?
Web surfing didn’t provide any resuscitation protocols for the nearly deceased sunflowers, but I did learn something amazing about these plants. “Sunflowers exhibit heliotropism. At sunrise, the faces of sunflowers are turned towards the east. Over the course of the day, they move to track the sun from east to west, while at night they return to an eastward orientation.” (From Wikipedia)
Indeed, as I further considered the vase of sunflowers before the altar, it was at once obvious that the hearty survivors were those whose faces remained upright, inhaling as much of the sun as possible. Those blooms that had wilted and eventually died had, for some reason, turned away from the sun. So simple, it seemed. Sunflowers live or die depending on their ability to track the sun. And so it is with us.
In the gospel passage we hear today, Jesus, in conversation with his disciples, puts to them the most important question they’ll ever be asked. “Jesus said to his disciples, ‘Who do you say that I am?’ Simon Peter answered, ‘You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.’” (Matthew 16:15-16) And, indeed, while the other disciples hesitated a bit, considering how to answer, Peter boldly proclaimed recognition of Jesus as God’s own son. And we know what happened to Peter! First of the disciples because he correctly answered the question, he became the foundation stone for the infant church and, in the end, suffered a martyr’s death as a final proclamation of faith.
And we, 21st century Christians, are called to no less! Daily are we challenged to proclaim Jesus as Son of God. Daily are we challenged to give courageous voice to our faith. Daily are we challenged to suffer rejection as we choose values that contradict popular culture. It can be a slow martyrdom, for sure.
Last month, as young people the world over gathered in Sydney, Australia for World Youth Day 2008, the life of a young man was held up as someone who lived vibrantly, believed passionately and died just a bit each day to the cultural expectations of his times. Meet Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati.
Born in Turin, Italy, in 1901, Frassati was “a vibrant outdoorsman who combined a deep love for Christ, a desire to serve the needy, and a mission to imbue society and politics with Christian ideals. His father, an agnostic, was influential in Italian politics, serving a term as senator, and later was Italy's ambassador to Germany.
“Pier Giorgio developed a deep spiritual life which he never hesitated to share with his friends. In 1918 he joined the St. Vincent de Paul Society and dedicated much of his spare time to serving the sick and the needy. Although the Frassati family was well-to-do, the father was frugal and never gave his two children much spending money. What little he did have, however, Pier Giorgio gave to help the poor, even using his train fare for charity and then running home to be on time for meals in a house where punctuality and frugality were the law. When asked by friends why he often rode third class on the trains he would reply with a smile, ‘Because there is not a fourth class.’
“When a poor mother with a boy in tow came begging to the Frassati home, Pier Giorgio answered the door, and seeing the boy's shoeless feet gave him his own shoes. At graduation, given the choice by his father of money or a car, he chose the money and gave it to the poor. He obtained a room for a poor old woman evicted from her tenement, provided a bed for a consumptive invalid and supported three children of a sick and grieving widow. He kept a small ledger containing detailed accounts of his transactions, and while he lay on his deathbed, he gave instructions to his sister, asking her to see to the needs of families who depended on his charity. He even took the time, with a near-paralyzed hand, to write a note to a friend in the St. Vincent de Paul Society with instructions regarding their weekly Friday visits. Only God knew of these charities; he never mentioned them to others.
“In late June 1925, Pier Giorgio was afflicted by an acute attack of polio which doctors later speculated he caught from the poor and sick whom he tended. Neglecting his own health, his illness was too advanced for anyone to treat when doctors discovered how weak he was. Pier Giorgio died on July 4, 1925, at the age of 24.
“His family [was] surprised to find the streets of [Turin] lined with thousands of mourners as the [funeral] cortege passed by. Those who mourned his death most were the poor and needy whom he had served so unselfishly; many of these, in turn, were surprised to learn that the saintly young man came from such an influential family. It was these poor people who petitioned to begin the cause for canonization. The process was opened in 1932 and he was beatified on May 20, 1990.” (Domenico Bettenelli, Jr.)
Indeed, as I considered the vase of sunflowers before the altar, it was at once obvious that the hearty survivors were those whose faces remained upright, inhaling as much of the sun as possible. Those blooms that had wilted and eventually died had, for some reason, turned away from the sun. So simple, it seemed. Sunflowers live or die depending on their ability to track the sun. So it was for Pier Giorgio Frassati. So will it be for us.