In Defense of Rules
3rd Sunday of the Year
How many people enjoy rules? There’s a common idea, which I think is a misconception, that people dislike rules. For some, perhaps for everyone, college embodies the epitome of rulelessness: no one to tell you to go to bed, to get off the PlayStation, to do your chores, to not spoil your supper with junk food. However, I personally like rules, and I’d venture to guess that you do as well. Would athletes perform their sport without an agreed-upon rulebook? Would musicians create anything beautiful without the rules of music theory? Would scientists accomplish anything without the rules of physics? People don’t like rules because they perceive them as suppressing individual freedom; yet, it’s precisely because of rules that a person can be free and exercise their freedom in a uniquely individual manner.
Here’s an example. If you should ever find yourself in a social situation in which you need to make polite conversation with someone who appreciates classical music, don’t ask them which of Beethoven’s nine symphonies is their favorite. Instead, pick one of Beethoven’s nine symphonies and ask them about their preferred recording. There are numerous recordings of each symphony and even renowned conductors have offered diverse interpretations of the same piece. Your music enthusiast is likely to have a preference. This raises an important question: Why do we need multiple recordings of each symphony? Do the notes on the page ever change? No, but the constant nature of the notes—the rules—allows each conductor to express the piece uniquely. Beethoven’s 9th Symphony can evoke a range of emotions, from a thrilling display of ecstatic joy to a somber elegy, depending on the conductor’s decisions.
My point is this: When understood correctly, rules serve as the boundaries within which freedom is properly exercised. If this concept seems strange to you, it appears that the people of Israel also required guidance to grasp its significance. In the first reading from the book of Nehemiah, we read that Ezra the priest read the entire law aloud to the people. As a result, they bowed down and prostrated themselves before the LORD, their faces to the ground. However, Ezra had to instruct them to rise and wipe away their tears. He said, “‘Do not be sad, and do not weep’—for all the people were weeping as they heard the words of the law.” Ezra encouraged them to rejoice in the Lord and in the law he had given them. The law establishes the parameters within which the people’s relationship with God is defined, enabling them to exercise their freedom and flourish. The law is a cause of rejoicing.
Saint Paul employs a similar analogy to describe the Church as Jesus’ Body. Just as a body is governed by rules, each part of the body has its own set of regulations. These rules ensure that each part functions optimally without overstepping its boundaries. As members of Jesus’ Body, we are not meant to exceed our designated roles within the Church, just as my knee is not supposed to bend beyond its natural range. Initially, these rules may seem restrictive, but it is precisely by limiting our actions to what is appropriate for us that they enable us to perform our duties exceptionally well. A knee, capable of incredible feats like kicking a game-winning 50-yard field goal, can achieve its full potential by being the best knee it can be, nothing more.
If you’ve been following me for the past few weeks, you might be able to track a developing theme in my homilies. Baptism is a transformative event that brings about a change in our being, leading to a corresponding change in our actions. Christ reveals who the specific individual that the baptized person is destined to become. Now, the law serves as a framework that defines our potential as individuals, enabling us to exercise our freedom to the fullest extent and with maximum human fulfillment. Consequently, by the law we become the person God created us to be. However, unlike the law read by Ezra to Israel, our law is not a written list of prescriptions. Instead, it is the Holy Spirit, who dwells within us, that defines our range of motion as members of Jesus’ Body. Jesus proclaimed in the synagogue at Nazareth, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me because he has anointed me…” Since we have been baptized into Jesus’ Body, the Holy Spirit also rests upon us, and we have been sealed the gift of his presence and power.
The Holy Spirit delineates the limits of our freedom. He says, “This is too much,” or “That is not enough.” Our choice to do what falls outside the Spirit’s parameters might be our own free action; but it cannot be said to be the freest choice we could make. Acting outside the Spirit’s bounds is to act outside of ourselves, to play a part other than the one for which we were created; and such action is not the embrace of freedom but rather the rejection of it. For it is to say to “The Spirit of Truth” and to “the truth [that] will set you free” (Jn. 14:7; 8:32), “I don’t need you. I’ve declared the limits of my freedom, and I’ve declared that my freedom is unbounded.” Today’s Gospel passage ends prematurely, before we hear that “all in the synagogue were filled with wrath” at Jesus’ words and they “rose up and put him out of the city, and led him to the brow of the hill on which their city was built, that they might throw him down headlong” (Lk. 4:28-29). Freedom outside the Holy Spirit always ends in a rejection of Christ.
I generally try to avoid saying things that remind you that you are young, because I hated being reminded of that myself and, to the extent that youth is relatively still on my side, I still do. But I will say that the appreciation of rules comes with age and maturity. When we are young, rules are the barricades that block the full exercise of our potentiality; as we grow, we begin to see rules in another light. I can only ask you to take me at my word. Yet perhaps I might invite you to pay attention to the rules that you do value, those moral standards by which your life is guided. What would your life be without the imperatives that you ought to be honest with your friends, that you should be faithful to the person you’re seeing, that an injustice done is a justice owed? Then let me ask: What could your life be if you added some more rules, the Lord’s rules? That it is better to be humble than to be proud, better to empathize than to be self-absorbed, better to receive than to take, better to work for justice than to let others suffer, better to show mercy than to exert force, better to carry a clean heart than putrid one, better to promote peace rather than violence, and that it is better to suffer for righteousness and be persecuted for Christ than to give him up in favor of a comfortable life defined by the wiles of our own so-called ‘freedom.’ What would the world be—what would your life be—if you limited your freedom to the parameters set down by the Holy Spirit? All I know is that our world and our lives would be far more beautiful than they are now—and I would like to live in a more beautiful world. I’d venture to guess you would too.
Given January 26, 2025 at Mount St. Mary’s University