Here we are once more. It’s Labor Day weekend, the unofficial end of summer. For many people this weekend also signifies a beginning, the beginning of a new year. While January 1 is the official New Year’s Day, for me, and, perhaps, for many of you, the real New Year begins with the end of summer vacations and a return to school, whether it’s elementary, secondary or college. So, with school in mind, I have a history question for you. My question is this: When did Labor Day become a legal holiday in the U.S.?
The answer may surprise you. It was 1894, some 99 years ago! It was a time when the labor movement was taking root both here and in Europe, a time when a man by the name of Karl Marx was writing about capitalism, and when Pope Leo XXIII was writing about labor and capital. You might ask, what, if anything, do today’s readings for the twenty-third Sunday of Ordinary time, have to do with Labor Day? Just this: Labor Day was created as a celebration of the solidarity of the working class, a holiday for the new community of workers.
Today’s readings speak of another community, one called ekklesia, the gathering of those who are called forth or, in English, “the church.” Therefore, it seems reasonable for the focus for today’s homily to be: How are we called to love within the Christian community, within the community called together under the name of our leader, Jesus the Christ? That’s the question for today: How are we called to love within the Christian community?
Today’s Gospel Reading is taken from the eighteenth chapter of Matthew’s writings, from a section called the “Jesus’ discourse, or sermon, on the church.” His discourse began with a question. (So, you see, my use of questions to begin a homily is not my own idea! It goes back to the greatest of all teachers.) And what was the question? In Matthew’s gospel, it came from the disciples who asked: “Who is the greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven?” Jesus replied by calling a child over to the group and saying those who would be childlike would enter the Kingdom of Heaven.
Then he goes on to talk about those who would lead others astray and how they might as well be thrown into the fires of Gehenna, which was the dump-heap just outside of Jerusalem, where all of the trash was continually burned. But what about the one who was not lead astray, but wandered off on his own? Jesus continued with his story of the ninety-nine sheep who stayed in the flock and the shepherd who went in search of the lost one, the one who wandered away. He spoke of the rejoicing when the lost sheep was found and returned to the community of the flock.
We have two stories about entering the Kingdom of Heaven. First, don’t lead anyone astray. Second, if someone leaves on his own, go in search of him. This brings us to today’s reading, which addresses a third consideration: what responsibility do you have before the sheep wanders away from the flock, before the brother or sister leaves the community?
First of all, you need to talk with him on a one-to-one basis to try to help him see where he’s going wrong, to help him get back on the right track. And if you fail in this, and it looks like the person is still going to leave the community through his own harmful actions, then it’s time to get some help. First, from a few close friends who can help you testify to what is right, to tell it like it is. And if that fails, to get help from the rest of the community-at-large, from the gathering, the ekklesia, from the church. What if all this fails? Then what? Then it’s time to bite the bullet and let him go on his way to self-destruction.
We heard this course of action right from the start, from the time of the prophet Ezekiel, and today’s First Reading. If you do not speak out to dissuade the wicked man from his way, he shall die for his wicked actions, but God will hold you responsible for his death. However, if you warn the wicked man, trying to turn him from his wrongful way, and he refuses to turn from it, he shall die for his own actions, but you shall save yourself.
Here’s a modern-day example of what Ezekiel was talking about. Consider what happens in the case of a friend who drinks too much and wants to drive home. You offer to drive him home or call a cab, like the public service announcements say. Or you even swipe his car keys. On the other hand, what if he has a second set of keys, jumps in the car and crashes into a tree? Most would agree if you didn’t try to warn him and do something to help, you share in the responsibility for the accident. Nevertheless, trying and failing is vastly different from not trying at all.
And so it is with the person who chooses any path of self-destruction. We are called to help him see it is self-destructive, to see this through our own efforts and with the help of others in the community. But, sometimes, we need to follow what is now called “tough love,” and let the person go, to allow the person to assume the self-responsibility for his own actions and their consequences.
Some would hear today’s Gospel Reading and find justification for forcing the wrongdoer out of the community. After all, is that not what is meant by Jesus’ instruction ” … treat him as you would a gentile or a tax collector.” The Jews shunned such people, they were outside the community. However, at the same time, there is a parallel question: How did Jesus, himself, treat sinners and tax collectors? Although they were outside the community, he continued to invite them back into it. The door to his fellowship meals was always open to those who repented, who changed their ways and asked to be forgiven. Yes, forgiveness is the focus for next week’s gospel.
Today’s homily, as I said earlier, is to focus on how we are called to love within the Christian community. How we are to help those who are in danger of leaving the protection of the flock. How we are to provide assistance so they can change their ways. Sometimes, however, we must recognize we also need to engage in “tough love” and allow the other person the freedom to wander away. Even when we are tempted to say, since I’ve done so much for you, I am owed something in return. I am owed to be loved back. You are obligated to love me, to do what I want. But this kind of relationship is not love.
Love remains a gift. It demands nothing in return. However, true love calls forth a response. A response to love in return. A gift from the lover to the beloved encourages a gift from the beloved to the lover. Not because of any obligation or demand, but rather, because the natural response to love, is love.
This weekend is the national celebration of Labor Day, a holiday for the community of workers. Yet, any day can be made into a type of “Labor Day” celebration. Here’s a final question for you: What is a “Labor of Love?” Is it not a gift prepared without any expectation of a return, a work done for its own satisfaction or to please another, the one we love? Perhaps, each of us is called to make every day a “Labor of Love” Day, one in which our actions, our works, our labors are to be gifts for others.
Twenty-third Sunday in Ordinary; September 5, 1993
Ezek 33:7-9; Rom 13:8-10; Mt 18:15-20