22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time (A) – September 3, 2023

St. Paul – Lyons, KS

Jeremiah 20:7-9; Psalm 63:2-6, 8-9; Romans 12:1-2; Matthew 16:21-27

Franz: The Standard of Faith

As we’ve been talking for several weeks, the issue being presented to us in this section of Matthew’s Gospel is the issue of faith. “Ok, we’ve heard about this Jesus guy. Just like we’ve heard about Julius Caesar, and Genghis Khan, and Abraham Lincoln. Cool. But with Jesus there is a different response that’s being asked. The question is: Can I, do I, will I place my faith in him, trust him, entrust my life to him?” This is the question.

Again, the proposal being made is that what Jesus is looking for is for us to entrust our life to him, because he’s the only one that responds to the human condition—and if he responds to the human condition, then its worth everything, even risking our life (remember Peter’s confession last week: it is a confession that would literally put your life on the line. To say, “Jesus is Lord,” is to say the Caesar is not, nothing else is Lord.) This is why the measure of formation as a Christian—it’s not, “Do I know the answers to quizzes?” The measure of Christian formation is a heroic witness to the faith, that the faith has transformed and changed everything in our life. So martyrdom (being a martyr, sure, but that word in Greek just means “witness”—so being a heroic witness)—martyrdom is the standard for Christian formation. Am I ready to bear heroic witness to Christ, to my faith? Are you with me?

So a really powerful example of this is a man by the name of Franz Jägerstätter. I’ve told you about him before. Franz was an Austrian farmer in the 1930’s and 40’s. Growing up, he was a little unruly; the first person in his village to own a motorcycle, things like that.

He never went to Catholic school growing up, never went to college—but after he got married, he started going to daily Mass, receiving the Eucharist frequently. He was the sexton at his parish, so he took care of the cemetery and helped with burials—did it for free, just wanted to practice the corporal and spiritual works of mercy. But even though he was growing in his faith, he wasn’t extreme in his piety—just a salt of the earth, hard working farmer. He and his wife were raising three daughters on their farm. So nothing crazy, just a good Catholic husband, father, and farmer. 

But it was 1930’s and 1940’s Austria. And again, like we talked last week, I know you’re all very good historians—but for some people that aren’t—1940’s Austria was like being between a rock and a hard place. In 1938, Nazi Germany annexed Austria, incorporating it into the German Reich. They invaded Poland in 1939, Soviet Russia in 1941. And the sad thing is that, because of the propaganda going around, many Germans and Austrians believed that Germany was doing a lot of good. For instance, many Catholics thought it was good because Germany promised to wipe out Bolshevism—a form of communism, socialism in Soviet Russia. So think about that: plenty of Catholics were on board with this because they were ready to wipe out communism and socialism—and were turning a blind eye to everything else.

Well, not Franz. Like many people of the time, he was drafted into the German army, conscripted to serve as a Nazi soldier. And he refused—he refused to swear an oath to Hitler. While many people knelt when Hitler made his entrance into Vienna, and while Catholic Churches were forced to fly the swastika flag—Franz wouldn’t go along with it. Why? Because of his faith. His faith would not allow him to go along with it. He wouldn’t “kneel” to Hitler.

So when he refused military service, he was arrested, charged with sedition. And during his imprisonment and trial, the Nazi’s kept offering him a way out: sign an oath to Hitler, “bend your knee” to him and you can go free. Even minutes before his scheduled execution! “Sign this and you’re free.” But he calmly and decisively replied with one phrase, “I am free.” Franz Jägerstätter, who would not bow his head to Hitler, bowed his head to God—and the guillotine took care of the rest.

What’s the point? This man was offered a chance to save his life—but he knew that his life, his true life was with Christ. And even in chains, even at the point of execution he knew, “I am free. I am alive. Because my life is not in their hands, but in Christ’s.”

When we hear a story like this, the heroic witness of a man like this—I think there are two reactions: one is to say, “Yeah, that’s awesome for him. But that’s sort of ‘pie in the sky,’ nice for some people. But it’s a bit extreme, doesn’t really relate to my life.” Or we say, “He’s got it right.” And yet, I think if most of us are honest, we fall more into that first answer: we’re not in a world war, we’re in Kansas, on and on. So we think it’s different for us. But no, it’s not. Remember the man from China: it’s probably more difficult, far worse for us. And so we just want to ask two simple questions: 1) What is the core of the problem for us? As 21st century Americans, what is the core problem for us? And 2) What is the path forward?

Peter’s Confession Pt. 2

In the Gospel we have today, it’s the second half of the account we heard last week: Peter’s revolutionary confession of faith in Jesus. But what happens immediately after Peter’s confession is this: Jesus immediately starts talking about his passion and death…which is clearly not what Peter had in mind. And how can you blame him! So Peter says, “God forbid, Lord! No such thing shall ever happen to you.” And Jesus goes after him, “Get behind me, Satan!…You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do.” Peter’s thoughts aren’t just wrong, Jesus labels them as satanic. And why? Not because Jesus doesn’t appreciate Peter’s care and concern, but because Peter is thinking, he’s seeing things not as God sees them, but as humans do.

This is the core of the problem for Peter, and it’s the core of the problem for us too. So timeout: can we be real for a second? Can we be real honest with each other? How do most of us evaluate our situation in life? How do most of us see the world? Fill in the blank, “I know that things are good in my life when________ .” Many of us evaluate our life, our children’s lives, our family’s life through the lens of…the American Dream. Life is good if I have a good job, if I make X number of dollars. Life is good if the Chiefs win the Super Bowl. Life is good if I get a good house, a nice car. Life is good if my retirement is looking good. And on the flip side: life is bad if I don’t make enough money, if the Chiefs lose, if I don’t have a good enough house or car. Do you see that? We have this narrative, this idea in our head that a “good life” is the American Dream. And I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the American Dream is not a core tenant of following Christ. It’s not. I know there has been a lot of confusion about this for decades now, that achieving the middle class American lifestyle is a sign of God’s blessing—but it’s not. It’s nice. But it has nothing to do with Christ—and actually may not always be helpful. And to think that it is, and to fight tooth and nail for it—that’s us thinking not as God does, but as human being do. This is the core problem: we don’t see clearly; we easily begin to see things not as God does but as humans do, as Americans do. Again, think of Franz’s story: many people in Austria were going along with Germany, turning a blind eye to the Nazi regime. Why? Because they promised to destroy Soviet Communism—they saw things as humans do.

What’s the Response?

So what’s the invitation, the solution? Paul gives us the solution in our second reading. Paul says, “Do not conform yourselves to this age but be transformed by the renewal of your mind.” Step one: we need to begin to see things not as the world teaches us, but as God teaches us, as the Church teaches us. We need to stop conforming ourselves and our thinking and the way we see things to this age, and instead, to experience a transformation by renewing our minds, renewing the way we think and see. This is step number one! I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: if you spend all day listening to cable news, scrolling through Facebook and Instagram and TikTok, watching football and all of those commercials for 12 hours every Sunday—well, the way that you see the world is going to be very, very predictable. “World’s going to hell in a hand basket! Government keeps running it into the ground. We need a new president. And I need to get a better interest rate on my house, save by switching today, and get a new truck. Go Chiefs!”

The question of faith, the question we’ve been diving into the past three weeks—it’s never a question of having faith or not having faith (as if “faith” only has to do with church). The choice is always “faith in one thing” or “faith in another thing.” You place your faith in something! You place your faith in what you think will save you from the human condition, give you happiness, and fulfillment, and joy. So Jesus’ invitation, the way Paul phrases it: we need to stop conforming ourselves to the way the world thinks and sees, and be transformed by thinking and seeing as God does. Faith is not something we “lose”; we don’t “lose our faith.” People we know who have fallen away from the faith—faith isn’t something we lose. What happens is we stop shaping our lives by faith in Christ, and instead shape it by our faith in something else.

Deny, Take Up, Follow

And that’s why Jesus’ invitation is quite simple. Jesus tells us, “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me.” That’s it. Simple as that. What comes to mind when you hear “deny yourself”? Because this is the key. In Lent we hear, “Well, I gave up chocolate for Lent. I gave up coffee. I’m denying myself.” And don’t get me wrong, that’s a beautiful thing for Jesus. But that’s not quite what the word means, in Greek. When Jesus says, “deny yourself” it means something like “complete disownment.” The example would be selling a car: there is that decisive moment when you sign the title of your car over to the other person, and once you do that your car belongs to you no mas. You no longer have any rights to it! This is what Jesus invites us to do, step one: sign the title of your life over to him, surrender ownership of your life to him. What’s the image we have been using? Get in the wheelbarrow, entrust your life totally to him.

This is so challenging for us because it goes against the core tenants of the American culture we are so immersed in. The core tenant of the American Dream: you can do whatever you set your mind to, you can have anything you set your mind to, and you can make yourself happy—you can have everything. In “religious” language we would say, “You can save yourself. You don’t need Jesus to save you. You can do it yourself.” And this is precisely Jesus’ warning: don’t think like that, don’t see the world that way. Why? “Because whoever wants to save his life will lose it.” So what should we do instead? “Deny your life, sign over the title of your life to him. Why? “Because whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.”

I think the two questions that we all need to sit with and ponder, the two questions you need to think about and pray with—think about your job, your family, your priorities; look at your calendar; look at your credit card bills; look at your screen time and what you watch all day; look at your current debts, and why you have those debts—look at your life, your real life, and then ask: “What profit would there be for me to gain the whole world but forfeit my life? What can I give in exchange for my life?”

Franz Jägerstätter is such an inspiration because yes, in an extreme situation he was willing to face literal martyrdom—but his heroic witness shows us that the groundwork for that, the foundation for that was a faith lived in his daily life, a faith that shaped every day of his life, every part of his life. Franz didn’t see the world the way so many others did! He was transformed by the renewal of his mind, by putting on the mind of Christ—and by entrusting his life entirely to Christ. He chose not to save his life, but literally to lose it for the sake of Christ. That’s the standard of faith to which we should aspire. And that’s the faith we can live when, like Franz, we center everything on Christ, present here in the Eucharist.