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Joe had done his time. After ten years, he left the prison and
stepped out into the real world, the free world. His cell mate and
buddies on the inside envied Joe, of course, but were happy for
him and wished him well as he went home.
But before long, Joe was back behind bars, not for another
crime but for a “technical violation” of his release—he flunked a
drug test. When he saw Joe again, his old cell mate “gritted” at
him—a sign of disapproval and disappointment in prison-speak.
How could Joe mess up the chance to get out of this place?! To
guys still on the inside, to come back to prison was the worst
crime imaginable. Joe explained what had happened and his
friend uttered a noncommittal grunt. That’s when Joe’s face crumpled in despair. “I was just so
damn lonely out there,” he said with a sigh. “I had a good job; I
was doing fine. But there was no one to talk to. Dude, all I know
is prison; I didn’t know what to say to those people out there.
So, I started hanging out with the old crowd. At least they could
understand where I was coming from. And then one thing led to
another…” The cell mate grunted. Yeah, he understood.
Christ calls us to make places in our society, in our
communities, in our hearts for the Joes in our midst: those souls
struggling to make something of their lives, who are trying to
put the pieces of their broken selves back together despite the
ostracism, rejection and ridicule they encounter.
The Canaanite woman in today’s Gospel is just such a soul: She
was despised by the Jewish community because of her race, ridiculed as a “dog” by the “righteous” who mistakenly found some sense of superiority in her inferiority. Jesus’ compassion
for her and his healing of her daughter breaks down the wall
between Gentile and Jew; the prophet’s vision of a single human
family, bound by what is good and just, begins to be realized
(today’s first reading). May our eyes and spirits be open to see
every man, woman and child as God sees them: as God’s
beloved children, brothers and sisters to one another, all made in
the image of God, all embraced within the heart of God.

Probably the most famous picture of God ever painted was done on
the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel in Rome. Michelangelo did it, and
I’ll bet most of you have seen pictures of it at one time or another. Is
it a picture of God resting on a heavenly throne? No. Does it show
God relaxing on a cloud? No.
The painting shows God in a very painful position. Off to one side
of the ceiling is Adam, just created out of mud. His hand and finger
are reaching weakly toward God.
And God? God is stretching his finger, his arm, his body–God’s
whole being towards Adam.
God stretched totally, in a most uncomfortable and painful way.
Ribs on one side are crunching together. Bones on the other side are
pulling apart. God’s muscles are straining. God’s eyes are intent.
God is stretching and stretching. It is the faith of Michelangelo and the faith of our church, that this
is the permanent posture of God.
God is stretching…God’s whole heart, whole mind, whole will, and
whole love stretching toward all of us, to every sinner.
God is not reaching. Reaching is simple. Effortless. Someone
reaches for a cup of coffee in the morning. God is stretching
This is how the people in the New Testament knew that Jesus was
God. He does what God does. He stretches. When Peter was wet and
drowning, today’s Gospel says, Jesus stretched out his hand
immediately.
Jesus was always stretching out his hands…to the blind, to the deaf,
to the paralyzed, to the sinners, to the poor, to the lepers, to everyone.
Finally, he allowed his out-stretched hands to be nailed to the
cross…to show us that’s how his hands and arms always are…
stretching out in love to us.
In ancient times, if you were a beggar in a crowd, and you were starving and the King and Queen were traveling by and saw you, they would hold out their golden scepter…what joy you would feel. You
would receive a coin for bread.
But in Jesus we see that God stretches out to us not a scepter but
the bruised and battered body of his own son, on a cross.
I close with this. How do we know that we’re the real church?
How do we know if we’re really following Jesus? The answer is
simple. The church is true to itself when, like Jesus… it stretches.
Stretches towards the poor…stretches towards the people with aids…
stretches towards the jobless…stretches towards the depressed and the
sick…stretches towards families in pain. This is the test, to see if
we’re the church and if we’re Christians. There should always be an
element of discomfort, or its not true stretching.
Remember this…Stretching is inconvenient, uncomfortable, costly,
and painful. And yet, we’re never more like God, and never more like
Jesus, as when we’re stretching…Lord help us.

One morning, before Mass starts, you’re sitting quietly in your
bench, and you find yourself praying, “O God, please help the young
couple next door. Their baby is not doing well and they’re back and
forth from the hospital several times a day.
“If you listen attentively, you might well hear God reply: “Why
don’t you do something to help them?
“I’d like to, but I have nothing”.
But you hear God counter: “You have a great recipe for beef tips.
Make a batch and take it over to them some afternoon. They’d welcome
it. You do NOT have nothing”.
During the pastor’s annual parish financial report, you sigh to
yourself, “Tell me about it, Father. Money’s tight all over”.
And, in that quiet, barely audible voice in your heart, you hear
God: “So why don’t you lend a hand?”
“I don’t know anything about church work. I have nothing to
contribute”. But God persists: “You have a talent and love of gardening – get a
group together to clean up the church yard and fix up the landscaping.
You have an hour during the week – volunteer to help in the parish
office. You get along great with kids – give that hour to help a teacher in
the religious education program. You do NOT have nothing”.
Watching the news or reading the newspaper one evening, you can
barely hide your disgust at the state of things.
But there’s that voice: “So what are you going to do about it?”
“Hey, God, I don’t do politics. I have nothing – no interest, no
patience, and no competence in these issues”.
But God admonishes: “You DO have an interest and a stake in
this–for you and your children and your neighbors. This is your
community; this is your country. These matters affect you deeply — and
the world I gave you. You can learn about these issues. You can ask
questions. You can become an informed and an aware voter. You do
NOT have nothing”. When confronted by his disciples with the need to feed the crowds,
Jesus first challenges them to give something from what they have.
With more truth than they realize, the disciples confess, “We have
nothing”. But they manage to scrape together a few pieces of bread and
fish – and with that, Jesus works the miracle. God can take our meager
offerings and transform them into bread. In much the same way, Jesus
challenges us to give of our “nothing” with faith that God can transform
our “scraps” into powerful manifestations of his loving presence in our
midst.
I close,
Let Jesus work the miracles.
Let us not be afraid to give whatever we have