18th Sunday of Ordinary Time Homily

In the fall of 1998, I was on retreat during my discernment for the Diaconate — when a group of the already ordained deacons began talking about Don Sutton — he had just been inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame. The name didn’t strike me as someone who had been repeatedly mentioned by sports announcers. So I got curious — who was this guy and what landed him this high honor.

For an extraordinary pitcher he performed few extraordinary feats. He never pitched a no-hitter. Though a veteran of twenty-one seasons, in only one did he win more than twenty games. Yet on June 21, 1986, Don Sutton rubbed pitching elbows with the true legends of baseball by becoming the thirtieth pitcher to win 300 games.

His analysis of his success is worth noting.

“A grinder and a mechanic,” is what he called himself.

He said, “I never considered myself flamboyant or exceptional. But, all my life I’ve found a way to get the job done.”

And get it done he did.  

Through two decades — and four trades — he consistently did what pitchers are supposed to do — win games. With tunnel-vision — he spent twenty-one seasons redefining greatness. He’s been called the ‘family sedan’ of baseball’s men of the mound. The connotation is accurate. 

He certainly never boasted the Ferrari speed of a Roger Clemens — nor the Mercedes sparkle of a Sandy Koufax — but after they and their types were parked in museums or garages — Don Sutton was still there.

He reminds us of a quality that is a common denominator in any form of greatness — reliability. It’s the bread and butter characteristic of achievement. It’s the shared ingredient behind retirement watches, Hall of Fame awards, and golden anniversaries. It is the quality that produces — not momentary heroics — but monumental lives.

The Bible has it’s share of family sedans.

Consistent and predictable — these saints were spurred by a gut-level conviction that they had been called by no one less than God himself. As a result, their work wasn’t affected by moods, cloudy days, or rocky terrain. Their performance didn’t rise and fall with roller-coaster irregularity. They weren’t addicted to accolades or applause — nor deterred by grumpy bosses or empty wallets. Rather than strive to be spectacular — they aspired to be accountable and dependable. And since their loyalty was not determined by their comfort — they were just as faithful in dark prisons as they were in spotlighted pulpits.

Reliable servants. Liable means responsible. Re means over and over again.

The faith of Moses and the Israelites caused them to pull up stakes in the middle of the night and leave Egypt - and everything they knew behind.

In the Letter to the Hebrews, the writer shows the landscape of reliability through the lens of Abraham’s trust in and hope for outcomes against perilous odds. By faith Abraham is said to have sojourned in foreign lands, generated life in his old age and then submitted to strange commands about giving up his only heir.

To be like them — our faith must be renewed and deepened daily.

The final line of our gospel is directly applicable to our daily paschal mystery living: “Much will be required of the person trusted with much, and still more will be demanded of the person and trusted with more.” 

We've been trusted with much: furthering Jesus’ mission of bringing the good news of salvation to all his disciples. But we've been trusted with even more: we are not simply servants — because of our baptism and being plunged into the passion, death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus Christ we become members of the body of Christ. 

We are to be the presence of the master himself, continuing his gracious mystery on behalf of others. Our faithfulness is measured by more than just doing God's will; it is measured by our being the presence of the risen Christ for all those we meet.

Faithfulness is consecration in overalls.

It is the steady acceptance and performance of the common duty and immediate task without any reference to personal preferences — because it is there to be done and so is a manifestation of the will of God.

Faithfulness means continuing quietly with the job we have been given — in the situation where we have been placed — not yielding to the restless desire for change. It means tending the lamp quietly for God without wondering how much longer it has got to go on. Steady, unsensational driving — taking good care of the car. A lot of the road to heaven — like a lot of the roads through Chatham — have to be taken at 30-mile-per-hour.

If our life is really part of the apparatus of the Spirit, that is the sort of life it must be. We have got to be the sort of cat who can be left alone with the canary — the sort of dog who follows, hungry and thirsty — but with tail up — to the very end of the day. We have got to be the sort of friend who refuses no test and no trouble — loyal, persevering — not at the mercy of emotional ups and downs — or getting tired when things are tiresome.

In the interior life of prayer — faithfulness points steadily to God and His purposes — away from self and its preoccupations.

In our daily living of dying to ourselves for the sake of others — we become more perfectly that presence of the very master for whom we are vigilant. In a sense, our vigilance is less about looking for someone and more about being someone. 

Our vigilance is for our own faithfulness.

If we are preoccupied by possessions, schedules, work, sports, entertainment, etc., our hearts are already filled with exhaustible, insecure, and corrupt matters. 

The challenge of the gospel is to redirect our hearts to what is our true treasure, Jesus, and then be faithful disciples. 

Though I have only been a part of this Parish family for two years — from where I’m standing — I recognize several contemporary saints of reliability. And I know from experience — that there are many others I have not yet gained experience of.

And, so… I can’t resist the chance to say two things:

First — Thank you!

Thank you senior saints for a generation of prayer and forest clearing. Thank you parents and teachers for the countless lessons delivered with tenderness. Thank you advocates for life — for your bravery to stand up for the rights of the unborn, the elderly, and the infirmed. Thank you members of St. Vincent dePaul, Knights of Columbus, and other charitable organizations for helping those who have trouble making ends meet.

Thank you Father Sullivan — for your preaching of the Word. You may think we aren’t listening — but we are. And your stubborn sowing of God’s seed is bearing fruit you may never see this side of the great harvest.

Thank you — all of you who practice on Monday what you hear on Sunday. 

Thank you for being family sedans of faith. You can be called on cold mornings and you’ll deliver the goods. You can be sent over rough terrain and you’ll make it on time. You can go miles without the pampering of a good polish or the luxury of a tune-up — and you never complain.

Thank you! From the bottom of my heart…. 

I did say 2 things. What’s the second? 

Your fidelity is not pointless. Your hope will not be frustrated. Keep pitching. Your hall of fame award is just around the corner.