Jesus' name pierces hearts

http://usccb.org/bible/readings/090919.cfm
Colossians 1:24-2:3
Luke 6:6-11

Why does the mention of Jesus’ name torment so many people? Today’s readings quickly reveal the core consequence of that torment, but it takes a few more minutes of reflection to discover the danger that Jesus brings to the moments where his name surfaces in public.

The latest public disturbance I encountered where I heard from several non-believing friends that were upset over the flagrant use of Jesus’ name was at a funeral. Yes, a funeral. In a Catholic Church of all places. I’m not sure what the reluctantly polite, though uncomfortable crowd, expected to hear in a Catholic Church. At a funeral.

I didn’t realize how many non-Catholics, and ultimately non-Christians were present at the horrible affair. The death of a 32 year old man, a dear boy in my few personal long ago memories of him, caused the gathering. Rather, the need to honor him, round up the neighborhood and the grief-addled friends and family, and bury the poor soul, was the cause.

The priest was the problem. He kept at it. “Jesus.” He said his name over and over. Relentlessly. Pointedly. Like he was taking aim at the crowd. He knew the ilk of the people present. Not surly, visibly reverent even, and obedient at the rules to stand, sit, and be helpful to move aside for the small number of communicants who walked up for the Eucharist. Yet, the name of Jesus flew like purposeful arrows into their brains. 

Maybe it was just me, I thought. Then after the service a few complained to me. “Yeah,” I responded once. “Those damn Catholics sound just like Christians don’t they?” I joked. It was kind of funny, but the two folks I spoke with had a different sense of humor.

I mentioned to Father Ron Raab — the one who tortured those present with blatant supposition that Jesus was at the other end of the killed man, holding him with open arms — that his precise arrows must’ve pierced many an unsuspecting heart that morning. I congratulated him on his obvious success at doing his job. I was thinking that the horror he kept announcing, that Jesus is our necessary redeemer, took courage and practiced delivery. He was thinking about the family suffering so miserably, and the friends whose tears were dropping throughout the service. 

I won’t quote his words exactly, but he said with matter-of-fact duty that primary on his mind was careful ministry. While people mourned openly, not a one of them wanting to be there, ruined in the deepest way, he wanted earnestly to help them over this blatantly awful experience.

That’s why he’s the priest, I said out loud. I too didn’t want to be there. He ran into the fire, thoughtless of the heat and the choking smoke. He exemplified Paul’s words in prison as he wrote to the Colossians. 

“I am filling up what is lacking in the affliction of Christ on behalf of his body, which is the Church, of which I am a minister in accordance with God’s stewardship given to me to bring to completion for you the word of God …”

Father Ron joined the folks in their sorrow. I struggled with the perceived danger of Jesus’ name. He visibly cried with them. I worried that unprepared people were not recognizing the knowledge of the mastery of God, “Christ, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge.”  We both have our place in the crowd, surely. There were plenty of people in attendance like me. Thank God there was the one present like him.

That’s where the danger of who Jesus is will be revealed. That’s what takes a few more minutes of reflection to see. It’s not just Jesus’ name that is dangerous. It’s who Jesus is that’s dangerous. It’s those who have been redeemed that are ones who bring the disturbing truth to the fore. 

In fact, the name of Jesus only pierces hearts if someone deigns to say his name out loud. The opportunities to do that come in those worst moments of necessary attribution. “Thank God that Jesus has conquered death.” How can a believer not say that out loud when grief cannot find an answer? 

In the gospel reading from Luke today the further consequence of Jesus’ role as redeemer — divinity entering the human domain — also tortures the angry non-believer. Jesus heals. He corrects and repairs the tripped-up universe. Only a purely irrational being would be angry to imagine that Jesus received a helpless man, run over in his prime, into his arms. They’re not to be chastised if they can’t imagine it is true. They’re only irrational if they’re shown that it is true. That’s why we who do believe are not different from anyone else. We couldn’t imagine it either. We needed someone with a withered hand to be cured by this Jesus in order to believe. That’s when we came to believe.

The reality of Jesus is what’s really going on here. That’s what’s behind the tortured soul. We believe Jesus not only received this dead man, but that he has made him whole. The man did not deserve to be healed. His death was likely his own responsibility, due to all kinds of reasons, but God still receives him. The anger of those who are upset that Jesus will get credit here, holding onto a destroyed and killed man and reviving him into eternal life, centers on what they believe is a lie. We’re crazy to believe Jesus is real. We’re living a supposition without evidence.

We Christians, though, have our evidence. Luke 6:6-11 checks off one of the thousand required boxes that our evidentiary requirements insist upon. Witnesses, corroboration, and holiness. That’s the documented sort of evidence that convinced us.

We individually have ticked off, and continue to chart further evidence, about Jesus the Redeemer. Our personal charts appear imaginary to the skeptical, but we too were skeptical at one time. We understand the danger of Jesus. He gives us hope, and then terrible things still happen. Then, we see the evidence of his kingship, his brotherly love, and his blatant interference in addressing everything about life and death.

“Jesus has Charlie in his arms,” we tell our friends and family. We know it is true. We name the lovely boy who after just becoming a man is tragically killed. “Have no fear, Jesus has got this,” we tell the family.

It’s dangerous to be so sure, so confident, and so vocal. Of course the people are upset at us.