Pause and give thanks

Homily for September 4, 2016 (23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time, C)
Wisdom 9:13-18b; Psalm 90; Philemon 9-10, 12-17; Luke 14:25-33

Many years ago, when I was Pastor at Our Lady Gate of Heaven Parish here in Chicago, I would celebrate an occasional weekday Mass at Immaculate Conception Parish located a few miles away.  One of the regulars at the morning Mass was a man named Joe, and on occasion he would invite me out to breakfast at a nearby restaurant.  It was one of those simple family places that one can find all over the city, the kind with huge portions, a waitress who calls everyone “hon,” Formica-topped tables and vinyl-covered booths and chairs. 

          Joe was a retired steelworker.  By the mid 1990’s steel production in South Chicago and Gary was a faint echo of an era when they rivaled Pittsburgh.  Still, Joe remained rightly proud of the work that he and his fellow steelworkers had done to build this nation and our economy and serve as part of the “Arsenal of Democracy” in World War II.  In a more somber tone, he also recalled surviving the Republic Steel Strike of 1937. 

          The strike had been called when the workers had voted to unionize.  Republic Steel management, who had called for the police, refused to recognize the union or negotiate a contract. They also accused the union of being the tool of Communists and other radicals.  On Memorial Day in 1937 striking workers, along with their families, community members and union sympathizers, tried to establish a picket line at the entrance of the mill on Chicago’s Southeast Side.  When the demonstrators met 150 Chicago police officers in a field before they could make their way to the plant, a confrontation was all but inevitable.

After a brief standoff, some rocks and bricks were thrown; and the police responded with clubs, tear gas and live ammunition.  10 protesters were killed and another 90 people were injured.  As he choked up and his eyes welled with tears, Joe recalled that some of the dead were his friends. The strike collapsed, and a subsequent congressional investigation found that the police had used excessive force.   Despite this setback and tragedy, the union was later recognized and got its contract.

          This weekend we celebrate Labor Day, and amid our travels, cookouts and days at the beach it would be good for us to pause and give thanks:  first to God for blessing us with the chance to share in God’s creative power through the privilege of work, and then for the many courageous people like Joe and his union brothers and sisters who in the past century fought for the rights of workers to have decent wages, benefits and working conditions, as well as Social Security, a minimum wage, family and medical leave, health insurance, workplace safety, etc.

As our current economy and the Republic Steel strike remind us, however, we can’t take these things for granted.  Justice for workers—in factories, fields, offices and classrooms here and around the world—has always come at a price, and at times it has been paid in blood.  This Labor Day we remember and give thanks for those who have paid that price.

In our reading from the Gospel of Luke, Jesus challenges us to consider the cost of discipleship and our willingness to work for, with and in him.  It’s not cheap.  It demands a reordering of our relationships and a willingness to let go of what is dearest to us and pick up the cross.   

In his letter to Philemon, Paul urges him to look at Onesimus  (whose name means “useful”) no longer as a piece of property whom he had the right to literally brand with the letter “F” for fugitivus  (fugitive) but rather as a brother in Christ.  Writing in the voice of King Solomon the author of the Book of Wisdom challenges us to consider our relationship with our Creator who, in the face of our mortality and limited understanding, blesses us with the gifts of knowledge and wisdom.

  Today in Rome, Pope Francis will declare Mother Teresa of Calcutta a saint.  She inspired many through her compassionate service to the poor and her dedication the dignity of human life, regardless of age or condition—all in the midst of a profound spiritual darkness that lasted 50 years.  That was her cost and her cross, and she was more than willing to accept them as a follower of Christ.  May we be ready to accept ours. +