Splagchnizomai

Homily for the Eleventh Sunday of Ordinary Time, Year A
Jesus has clearly never been to the United States. At least not in person, while he was on earth. Because if he had been to the United States, at least the United States of today, he would have realized that we do not need shepherds – or, more precisely, we do not want shepherds. We Americans really don’t like to be compared to sheep, either, but that’s a whole different conversation. For now, suffice it to say that we don’t want anything like a shepherd to prod us around. We’re independent – remember that Declaration of Independence? – we thrive on freedom, we want to make our own schedule, to do our own things, without some guy with a wooden staff pushing us in a certain, predetermined direction. We Americans are our own bosses, and we like it that way. Why on earth would we want a shepherd, or an apostle, or a harvest-worker to lead us somewhere we might not want to go to? Clearly, Jesus doesn’t get our situation.

One of the greatest words in any language is used by Matthew at the beginning of today’s gospel. In our translation, it says that Jesus had pity on the people. But the Greek word is much more interesting than “pity.” The original word is splagchnizomai – it’s such a great word, much better than “pity.” Splagchnizomai comes from the Greek word for entrails, the vital inner organs of a person—the stomach, heart, lungs, spleen, liver, and kidneys. To say that Jesus had pity on the people – that he felt splagchnizomai – is really to say that he had a feeling deep in his gut, the deepest of all human emotions, that kind of feeling that is physical as much as intellectual. Jesus felt so deeply connected to these people, and he felt so deeply disturbed by where they were being led, that he had to do something.

Because, you see, the people of Jesus’ time weren’t too different from us Americans. They had a certain level of religious affiliation, but they still wanted to do their own thing, to be their own leaders, to make decisions on their own. As Matthew says, they were “troubled and abandoned,” people who valued independence and freedom but didn’t know what to do with it. Jesus’ reaction, his splagchnizomai, the lurching feeling deep in his gut, compelled him to do something – to call and send disciples who would spread his message of compassion, forgiveness, and healing. These twelve shepherds – the laborers for the harvest – were regular, ordinary people who had an extraordinary message to preach: the kingdom of heaven is at hand. Don’t look at us, they said, but look at Jesus, and in him, you will find both direction and meaning for your lives. Independence and freedom are great, but without meaning, they’re just words on paper. Don’t you want meaning in your life? Jesus’ heart is breaking out of love for you because you can’t find this meaning, his gut is tied up in knots of compassion and pity because he wants to give you the greatest gift imaginable: purpose, in the kingdom of heaven. Go to him, listen to him, receive from him. He is the true shepherd not just because he will push you in a certain direction but because he will die for you. Go to Jesus! His inmost being is aching to give your life purpose. And then, once you have heard about the kingdom of heaven, go back into the world of independence and freedom and bring people along with you. For “Without cost you have received; without cost you are to give.”