July 3, 2011 - Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Reading 1 - Zec 9:9-10
Thus says the LORD: Rejoice heartily, O daughter Zion, shout for joy, O daughter Jerusalem! See, your king shall come to you; a just savior is he, meek, and riding on an ass, on a colt, the foal of an ass. He shall banish the chariot from Ephraim, and the horse from Jerusalem; the warrior’s bow shall be banished, and he shall proclaim peace to the nations. His dominion shall be from sea to sea, and from the River to the ends of the earth.
Responsorial Psalm - Ps 145:1-2, 8-9, 10-11, 13-14
R. (cf. 1) I will praise your name for ever, my king and my God.
I will extol you, O my God and King, and I will bless your name forever and ever.
Every day will I bless you, and I will praise your name forever and ever.
R. I will praise your name for ever, my king and my God.
The LORD is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and of great kindness.
The LORD is good to all and compassionate toward all his works.
R. I will praise your name for ever, my king and my God.
Let all your works give you thanks, O LORD, and let your faithful ones bless you.
Let them discourse of the glory of your kingdom and speak of your might.
R. I will praise your name for ever, my king and my God.
The LORD is faithful in all his words and holy in all his works.
The LORD lifts up all who are falling and raises up all who are bowed down.
R. I will praise your name for ever, my king and my God.
Reading II - Rom 8:9, 11-13
Brothers and sisters: You are not in the flesh; on the contrary, you are in the spirit, if only the Spirit of God dwells in you. Whoever does not have the Spirit of Christ does not belong to him.
If the Spirit of the one who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, the one who raised Christ from the dead will give life to your mortal bodies also, through his Spirit that dwells in you. Consequently, brothers and sisters, we are not debtors to the flesh, to live according to the flesh. For if you live according to the flesh, you will die, but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live.
Gospel - Mt 11:25-30
At that time Jesus exclaimed: “I give praise to you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, for although you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned you have revealed them to little ones. Yes, Father, such has been your gracious will. All things have been handed over to me by my Father. No one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son wishes to reveal him. Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.”
Reflection
What does it mean to live “in the flesh,” and why is it so problematic? We are, after all, physical embodied beings with muscles and bones and arteries. Surely Paul is not suggesting that it would be possible to live as disembodied spirits, liberated from our physical selves, is he? Wouldn’t that require us dying? He’s not arguing that we should all liberate ourselves from the finitudes of physical existence by ending our biological lives, right? Besides, Jesus promises us, and we profess belief in, the Resurrection of the Body on the Last Day, i.e. even though we die to this mortal life, we will eventually be resurrected in some bodily form. So what exactly is Paul talking about here, and what does it look like to live not “in the flesh” but “in the spirit”?
One of the quickest ways to divide a room of Biblical scholars is to ask them what, precisely, Paul sought to convey in using the Greek word sarx, universally translated in English as “flesh,” in his Letter to the Romans. Some have asserted that Paul wished to describe only those physical urges of the human person that lead towards sins we tend to categorize as of the physical body, e.g. lust and gluttony. Others have advocated a more expansive reading of this term, “flesh” that incorporates proclivities towards non-physical types of sin, e.g. pride and envy. Perhaps the best way to understand this concept of flesh is as all those tendencies congenital to us as human beings that can lead us to sin.
Many of the major philosophies, theologies, and political theories of human history can trace their initial point of departure back to a fundamental disagreement over the essential nature of the human being. Metaphysics is the name of the discipline that studies the true nature of things in the universe, and philosophical anthropology is the sub-discipline that focuses exclusively on what-it-is-to-be human. (Theological anthropology is an adjacent branch that explores the nature of the human person vis-à-vis the nature of God, thus the testimony of Genesis that human beings are formed in the image and likeness of a loving, reasoning, creating God is the starting point of Judeo-Christian anthropology.)
If one takes as premises that (1) we are created in the image and likeness of the God who made us, and (2) that this God is a benevolent, loving, just, merciful sort of being, then we, too, ought to possess those qualities. And yet, even a cursory examination of human history reveals that, in addition to our capacity for those qualities of love and mercy, humans behave in a matter wholly at odds with those characteristics. Ineluctably, all of us make decisions that could be classified as selfish, mean, and vindictive. So if we’re made in the image and likeness of an unfailingly and unqualifiedly good God, where does our sin come from?
From “the flesh,” as Paul tells us. The flesh here referring to those tendencies that come naturally with being a finite creature. The theological term concupiscence refers to the natural, inordinate urges of the human person. We are, after all, animals—rational animals, but animals nonetheless. Evolutionary biology has programmed us to want to eat voraciously so as to store calories for leaner times, and it has hardwired us to reproduce so as to continue our species. Such intrinsic tendencies are not, of themselves, sinful, but they can lead to sin when we allow ourselves to become, as Paul describes, “slaves to the flesh.” It’s quite natural—indeed, inevitable—to be physically, sexually attracted to other human persons, but it is problematic to allow ourselves to be consumed by these desires, e.g. if our primary motivation in pursuing relationships with others is not mutual well-being, but the desire to gratify our sexual appetite.
It is not hard to understand why Paul would use so dramatic an analogy as “slavery” to describe those whose daily preoccupation is the satiation of such longings. Be it a chemical addiction, a sexual obsession, or any other sort of attempt to satisfy a potent urge, the experience can lead one to feelings of being powerless and unable to take control of one’s decisions—to feel enslaved.
The intensity of such desires varies from person to person, but it is the exceptionless experience of the human condition to discover within us a constant tension, an irresolvable conflict between what a particular appetite impels us to do, and what our rationally-informed will directs us toward. To be human—to be beings OF the flesh—is to struggle ceaselessly with our desires. What Paul warns us about is becoming beings IN the flesh, whereby we concede to these urges, rather than aligning our behavior with what God wills for us, i.e. what is actually in our best interest. So why would God imbue us with this perpetual internal struggle, and how on earth are we supposed to come out victorious?
It might be posited that fulfillment in any dimension of human life is meaningful only if it required some degree of effort. The reason we extol Olympic athletes or applaud virtuous violinists is the fact that we recognize how immense must have been their sacrifice and perseverance. Put simply, the reason we admire achievement is that it IS hard. It’s not easy to master an instrument or run a marathon. Such accomplishments are worth pursuing precisely they demand so indescribable a commitment to discipline and immeasurable an investment of energy. The same could be said of the moral life, of living an authentically human existence. The reason it is so fulfilling is precisely that it IS so hard, that it DOES require so much effort. Virtue is worth attaining BECAUSE it’s a struggle, not in spite of the fact.
But the key to success in this undertaking is an honest acknowledgment of our deficiencies and need for God’s help. Pride—the belief that we can accomplish this feat on our own, that we do no need anyone else’s assistance—is a non-starter. If we are of the mindset that we are equipped already with the tools to conquer our inherent human imperfections, then we have doomed ourselves to inevitable failure. Only when we concede, before God and the community, that we can’t do it ourselves, can we begin to make progress. Once we do, we open ourselves up to living “in the Spirit.”
The Greek word here translated as spirit is pneuma, and it literally means “breath or wind.” It is shorthand for “that which is of God,” and it calls to mind God’s infusing the clay of Eden with his life-giving breath. It is this same pneuma of God that Jesus breathes upon his disciples, endowing them with the Holy Spirit, empowering them to carry out their mission of bringing the Gospel to all peoples. Put another way, the spirit here referenced is God’s grace. God’s freely given, wholly transforming spirit that permits us to transcend our human finitude and overcome our limitations. Thus, to live “in the spirit” as Paul articulates, is to live in such a way as to candidly acknowledge our inability to do it alone, and to open ourselves intentionally to receiving God’s assistance. St. Augustine describes the human experience, the internal conflict referenced above, as such: “Our hearts are restless until they find their rest in you, O God.” This restlessness, this existential agitation, that afflicts us as we go about our day can be abrogated only by accepting the balm of God’s grace. And while our initial step to “live in the spirit” is to be a receptacle of God’s unmerited and sanctifying grace, our newfound peace will not result in a perpetual passivity. Rather, this infusion necessarily will compel us toward action, to live lives of love and community, a way-of-being that constitutes human flourishing.
To summarize: Paul is reminding his listeners that all of us struggle with the natural, unavoidable tendencies of the human condition, and he exhorts us not to allow ourselves to become consumed by them. Rather, we are encouraged to accept God’s offer grace, and thus to flourish. The consoling part is, we’re all in this together, and that is the point of Church. That’s why at Mass, before we even get to the readings or the Eucharist, we pause to acknowledge to God and to the rest of our sisters and brothers, that we are sinners. (The Kyrie, or “Lord have mercy” is one expression, and the Confiteor is still more explicit: “I confess to Almighty God, and to you my brothers and sisters…”) Perhaps the next time you are at Mass, during the Penitential Rite, look around and notice everyone confessing his/her inadequacies together, and recognize that each of us is acknowledging the need for God’s grace. Indeed, if we are willing, God will often use us to be that grace to one another.
Questions for Reflection
1) What sorts of tendencies do you think of as innate to the human condition and predisposing us to sin? Are they mostly of a physical nature, or can you think of some spiritual ones as well?
2) Have you ever felt as though you were, at a particular moment or in one area of your life, enslaved by a flaw or consumed by a struggle? Do you feel as though you were able to surmount it? If so, how? If not, what is left to be done?
3) Have you ever explicitly invited God’s grace into your life? Did you experience any result? What do you think it would feel like to live “in the spirit” rather than “in the flesh”?
