Thursday in the 23rd Week of Ordinary Time, September 9, 2021

Luke 6:27-38

Jesus said to his disciples: “To you who hear I say, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. To the person who strikes you on one cheek, offer the other one as well, and from the person who takes your cloak, do not withhold even your tunic. Give to everyone who asks of you, and from the one who takes what is yours do not demand it back. Do to others as you would have them do to you. For if you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? Even sinners love those who love them. And if you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? Even sinners do the same. If you lend money to those from whom you expect repayment, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, and get back the same amount. But rather, love your enemies and do good to them, and lend expecting nothing back; then your reward will be great and you will be children of the Most High, for he himself is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked. Be merciful, just as also your Father is merciful.  Stop judging and you will not be judged. Stop condemning and you will not be condemned. Forgive and you will be forgiven. Give and gifts will be given to you; a good measure, packed together, shaken down, and overflowing, will be poured into your lap. For the measure with which you measure will in return be measured out to you.”

Early in the morning of Wednesday, September 12, 2001, I got up from a sleepless night and unlocked the church where I was assigned, St. Leo’s in Fairfax City.  Although nearly an hour before the first Mass of the day was scheduled to start, a crowd had already formed in the parking lot, waiting to be let in.  The church filled quickly after the doors were opened.  By the time Mass began, people were standing because no space remained in the pews for them to sit, and everyone was crammed together.  The crowd sat or knelt in silence.  This was to be the first parish Mass after the Al Qaeda terrorist attacks had killed thousands of U.S. citizens and rocked the nation.  The Pentagon was just a few miles up Route 50 from the church and many of our parishioners were working there at the time of the attack on it.  The evening before I had asked the pastor if he wanted to switch Masses since I felt certain the people would want to hear his words, but he told me to go ahead.  After I put on my vestments, I thought to look at the readings for the Mass — something I normally did well-beforehand, but which I had forgotten to do in the horror and rush of the preceding day.  When I saw the Gospel reading, which is the one for today’s Mass, I thought I must have looked at the wrong day in the lectionary.  How could I possibly read, under the circumstances, about loving one’s enemy?  It seemed cruel to do so.  And then, I knew, I would have to preach on these words to people who had lost friends and colleagues as well as suffered the shock of the attack.

At the prescribed time, near six in the morning, I processed to the altar and kissed it, noting the overflow crowd as I did so.  People were standing outside the church by now because no room was left for them inside.  I chose to use the prayers from the “Mass in Time of War and Civil Disturbance” in the Missal, since it was a day in ordinary time, but I could not choose a different option for the readings.  After I read the Gospel, I kissed it and waited for the people to seat themselves again.  I still did not know what to say.  Love for our murderous enemies?  I tried to talk about how Jesus loved with his whole heart even the people who were nailing him to the Cross, and how he prayed, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do.”  I also talked about how love of enemies did not mean there could not be a pursuing of justice.  The men who crucified the Lord Jesus were forgiven by him, but that did not let them off the hook for their evil actions.  They were still subject to justice.  “Forgiveness” means I will not avenge myself against you, taking the law into my own hands.  “Justice” means that an authority established for maintaining the law hands down the consequences of the sinner’s offense.  In the present case, I tried to say that after an investigation has revealed the perpetrators of these attacks, our government may decide on a course of action to punish them, and this would be the upholding of justice.

And then Mass continued.  The silence of the people was broken only at the proper times by their fervent responses to the prayers.  After Holy Communion, I offered the final prayer, and I tried to think of something else to say to people that would help them.  I did not try to fool myself into thinking that my homily had done any good.  But after the final blessing, I asked everyone to pick up the hymnals in the pews and turn to a specific page.  Then we all sang good and loud, all the verses to “America the Beautiful”.  It was the loudest and most emotional singing I have ever heard in a Catholic Church.  Then, after we finished the hymn, I returned to the sacristy and people slowly drifted away to work or home.

We are a few days short now of the twentieth anniversary of the attacks. We pray for our nation, and for the conversion of our society, which has gotten unmoored from the principles on which our nation was founded.  We pray, too, for the conversion of terrorists as well as for the whole world.  And we pray for justice for all who have been harmed by the wicked people in our world.