Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year A
Awfully Quiet
Rev. James Wickersham

One of the toughest questions people ask is this: If God loves us, why does he seem so quiet and distant? Why doesn't he stop people from walking away from him? Why doesn't he stop suffering? Why doesn't he stop families from being divided? Why doesn't he stop children and grandchildren from drifting away from the faith?

Jeremiah knew something about those questions. The people around him wanted him to fail. The responsorial psalm says, "I have become an outcast to my brothers, a stranger to my mother's children." These are not enemies. These are family members.

Many people know exactly what that feels like. You love the Lord. You come to Mass. You pray. Yet there are people you love who no longer believe, no longer practice, or no longer care. Sometimes they mock the faith or simply ignore it. Either way, it hurts.

There was a period in my own life when I had drifted away from the faith. My mother continued going to Mass. She could not make my decision for me. She could not force me to come back. Years later, when I began returning to the Church, one of the things that weighed on my conscience was that I had let her go to Mass by herself.

Why didn't God just force me to come back? The answer is that God does not force himself on anyone. He desires our love, but love must be freely given. It cannot be forced or taken.

God respects our freedom enough to let us reject him and ignore him. He even respects our freedom enough to let us wound one another.

That is why sin and suffering exists. That is why people walk away. But this is not the whole story.

St. Paul tells us today that through one man, Adam, sin entered the world. Sin is real. Sin spreads. One person's sin often becomes another person's wound. We see it in families, communities, and nations.

But Paul does not stop there because he knows grace is greater. Sin does not get the final word. Death does not get the final word. The Cross does not get the final word. Christ does.

Sometimes people ask, "Where is God? Why doesn't he do something?" Sometimes all we get, it seems, is crickets. Calvary on the day of crucifixion was awfully quiet too.

The disciples thought everything was lost. The religious leaders thought they had won. The crowds walked away. There was no voice from heaven. No army of angels. No visible victory. Yet God was accomplishing the salvation of the world.

Whenever we think God is doing nothing, we should remember that Calvary was awfully quiet too. I think we see this with the good thief.

Matthew tells us that the thieves crucified with Jesus mocked him. The tradition of the Church has often understood that one of those thieves eventually changed. As the hours passed, he watched Jesus. He listened to him. He heard him forgive his executioners. Slowly he came to see what others could not.

Everyone else saw a defeated, crucified, and dying man. The good thief came to see Jesus as king reigning from the cross. Then the good thief professes his new faith: "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom."

Jesus did not take him down from the cross, remove his suffering, or give him health, wealth, or a second chance at life. Instead, Jesus gave him the greatest gift: "Today you will be with me in Paradise."

The good thief could not undo his past. He could not go back and live differently. All he could do was turn toward Jesus. And that was enough.

Boy we all have regrets and deep wounds from sin. We all have people we love who are far from God. And we all carry a lot of crosses we would rather not carry.

The good thief had only a few hours left of life, but Christ was not finished with him.

So do not give up on your son. Do not give up on your daughter. Do not give up on your spouse. Do not give up on yourself. Remember, Christ was winning a soul while hanging on the cross. Calvary was awfully quiet. But Christ was still at work, and he still is today.