(1 Tm 3:14-16; Ps 111:1-2, 3-4, 5-6; Lk 7:31-35)
There’s an old joke that goes something like this: Bobby and his grandfather were walking their donkey back to their village. Along the way, they meet a merchant who scolds them: “It’s such a waste to walk with that donkey without someone riding him!” So the grandfather boosts Bobby onto the donkey, and they walk a while further, until they encounter an elderly fisherman who scolds Bobby: “I can’t believe you’re allowing this poor old man to walk while you’re riding in comfort, even though you’re young and are full of energy!” So Bobby hops off and encourages his grandfather to get on the donkey, which he does. They walk a while later, and a young mother scolds the grandfather: “Honestly! How can you – an able-bodied man – ride leisurely while this young boy has to exhaust himself by walking!” So the grandfather helps Bobby upon the saddle, and they both ride for a while, until they encounter a nobleman who says, “I can’t believe how cruel you are to that tiny animal by piling upon him like that!” As the sun was setting, Bobby and his grandfather made it back to the village; it was many hours later than they were expecting, because Bobby’s grandfather was slowed down by carrying the donkey the rest of the way.
I was reminded of this story as I considered today’s readings. In the selection from the Gospel of Luke (itself mirrored in a slightly different form in Matthew 11:16-19), we see Jesus calling out folks in a form that’s very similar: “For John the Baptist came neither eating food nor drinking wine,
and you said, ‘He is possessed by a demon.’ The Son of Man came eating and drinking and you said, ‘Look, he is a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners.'” In other words, to the sinful onlookers, John the Baptist acted too “pious,” while Jesus acted “too” down to earth.
If you’re Catholic, it’s all but assured that others are going to look for reasons to tear you down. If you’re seen as overly pious, you’ll be accused of being holier-than-thou. If you’re more down to earth, you’ll be called a glutton or drunkard (like in Jesus’ explanation) or else be accused of trying too hard to fit in the secular world. If you speak a lot about your faith, you’ll be accused of rubbing it in people’s faces. If you keep your beliefs to yourself, you’ll be accused of hiding your faith. If you live a perfect life, you’ll be called a goody two-shoes; if you falter or struggle with anything, you’ll be accused of being a hypocrite or unworthy to be called a Christian. If you try to extol the similarities you have with our Protestant brothers and sisters, you’ll get pushback from those who cling to incorrect or incomplete beliefs about Catholics. If you correctly try to point out the ways that the church founded by Christ differs from Protestant practices, you’ll be called divisive.
Fortunately, Jesus shows that this is nothing new. Many alive during Christ’s ministry didn’t want someone – whether it was John the Baptist or Jesus – to show them the error of their ways, because they didn’t want to repent of their sinful lives. They would latch onto any excuse for why they didn’t have to listen to them. Similarly, those who are determined to find fault with you as a person of faith will do so, regardless of how you adhere to the faith.
Fortunately, we know how we’re supposed to act, whatever anyone else says. To quote from today’s selection of the First Letter to Timothy, we already know how to behave in the household of God, which is the Church of the living God, the pillar and foundation of truth. Our faith and beliefs – built upon the love of Christ and the guidance of the Spirit – compel us to do the Father’s will on Earth, no matter what others say, do, or believe.
We all walk along the path laid for us by God. We’ll all falter at some point, given our inherently sinful natures, but the Lord welcomes us back with forgiveness each time we stray. We’ll all face the scornful remarks of those who would seek to meddle in our lives . . . but we know what is true. The Lord gave us the Church to guide and console us, and the Bible to educate and nourish us, and the Catechism to remind and instruct us; he also gave each of us an intellect and conscience to illuminate the road when an immediate path isn’t obvious. If you know you’re doing the Father’s will, ignore those who would seek to meddle in your affairs . . . and do so knowing that those who would question you are no better than those who would question Jesus or John the Baptist, two thousand years ago.
