The One You Seek Is Near
25th Sunday of the Year
As I sat with today’s First Reading from the book of the prophet Isaiah and sensed the beginnings of an idea that could develop into a homily, I held my breath as I glanced up at the chapter number at the top of the page, as if I were watching a ball fly down the baseline waiting to see whether it lands fair or foul. Isaiah is typically divided into three sections, and what I wanted to say about this passage would probably only work if it came from the middle of those three. As it turns out, today’s reading is from Chapter 55, which falls right on the line, and thankfully for me, on the right side of the line. Chapters 40-55, we are pretty sure, were not written by the prophet himself but by one of his disciples, who we call ‘Deutero’ or ‘Second’ Isaiah, who continued in his master’s spirit. The prophet’s message shifts from First Isaiah to Second because the First preached before the Babylonian Exile and the Second preached during it: while Israel was held captive in a land not their own.
Why that difference matters is that, if the words we heard the prophet speak today to God’s chosen people were said while they were in Judah, for them to “Seek the Lord” all they would need to do was go to the Temple in Jerusalem, to the place where his glory dwells; but now, strangers in a strange land with no Temple, how could the prophet say “Seek the Lord while he may be found, call him while he is near”? Israel experienced the Exile as a time of estrangement, not merely from the land of their ancestors, but from their God. What Isaiah announces is that the Lord is near to them, though from him they feel themselves far.
I usually like to bury the ‘reason’ for my homily a bit deeper, or to save it for closer to the end, but today I want to come right out with it. I don’t know all of you, but I do know a fair number; and I know that some of you, though you come to Mass regularly, every Sunday even, are not Catholic. And while I do not know the particular reasons for why that is, I would imagine that at least for some, your hesitation could be stated simply: like Israel in exile, you feel far from God.
You may have heard of the French philosopher Simone Weil, who in the early 20th century found herself moving through political ideologies before finally making her way to Catholicism, though without ever crossing the threshold of baptism herself. She had issues with the Church—not with the essentials, but with the institution and structure—but, more fundamentally, what kept her from ever being baptized was that she never felt Christ commanding her to pursue it. God seemed to be standing on the other side of the baptismal font, but she never saw him stretch out his hand toward her. Perhaps something of Simone Weil’s reluctance can be felt in you. You may be waiting for something in your life to line up, for some suffering you are experiencing to be past, or for some struggle or shortcoming in you to be overcome before revisiting the God or Church question again. I think it is common enough, for Weil and for us all, to see God holding out until we are ready; but this is exactly the opposite of the God announced by the prophet Isaiah. Isaiah says the time to seek the Lord is now, not later: while he may be found, while he is near.
I would imagine that, if you tucked yourself into this Cathedral every Sunday and watched all those Catholics around you reciting prayers whose words you didn’t know, singing songs whose melodies you’ve never heard, in a thousand ways evidencing a relationship with God you’ve never had, you might very easily conclude you have missed the boat: the ship has sailed, and you are left standing on the docks, bag in hand, destined to be a casual onlooker upon a life that was never meant for you. I have always been a Catholic myself, but I can imagine this might be your experience, for even as a Catholic, it has also been mine. And I would bet, to a one, those Catholics who seem to have it all figured out likewise feel themselves, at least sometimes, stranded and forgotten. One of the greatest spiritual consolations in my life was the realization that the desire for God is already the fruit of the presence of God within. Inasmuch as you want God, you already have God; for the movement of our soul toward God is the result of his initiative, his free gift of grace already received. This is the logic of Isaiah’s preaching in exile: that the Lord is near, though he may seem far.
We often focus on the jealousy of the servants in the parable in today’s Gospel, but what should we think about the landowner, who stands to represent God? God is not content with sending out workers once, or twice, or only at the start of the day; rather, that his field needs to be tilled and cultivated seems ever on his mind, even sending more laborers out in the evening to finish what must be done. At every moment, before we do anything ourselves, God reaches out his hand to us and invites us to join him in the boat.
What I would like to propose is this: if becoming part of the Catholic Church appeals to you in any way, then become part of the “Order of Christian Initiation” this fall. Joining the program does not mean you have resolutely determined to become Catholic. It means only that you are willing to ask the questions and have the kinds of conversations that may lead you closer to one day taking God’s hand and stepping off the dock. Our purpose is not merely to teach you things, but to give you a space in which your reservations, doubts, and fears can be expressed and received in love. What I believe you will find is that your feeling of being far from God is not all that different from anyone else’s; and at the same time, you will discover that the most fruitful way of working through our difficulties is together, with each other as the Church, as we as pilgrims set out on one common journey to our God.
After she died, her sisters in Carmel wanted to destroy the diaries of St. Therese of Lisieux, for in them she admitted to being tempted toward the worst thoughts of atheism. Therese was a mystic and has since been made a Doctor of the Church; yet even that did not expel the darkness that obscured her vision of God. Catholicism is not a religion of the perfect, by the perfect, and for the perfect; the Catholic Church is for the imperfect, for us to put up with our imperfections, in the faith and hope that God leads us, through his Church, to the perfection of eternal life: to that place where God will no longer need to be sought and found, but will be all in all.
Homily preached September 24, 2023 at the Cathedral of Mary Our Queen